Symphony of Psalms
Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971)
In 1930, Igor Stravinsky composed the Symphony of Psalms for the 50th anniversary of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, celebrated that year with several commissions for new works. A few years later, the composer wrote of it in his autobiography:
My idea was that my symphony should be a work with great contrapuntal development, and for that it was necessary to increase the media at my disposal. I finally decided on a choral and instrumental ensemble in which the two elements should be on an equal footing, neither of them outweighing the other. In this instance, my point of view as to the mutual relationship of the vocal and instrumental sections coincided with that of the masters of contrapuntal music, who also treated them as equals, and neither reduced the role of the choruses to that of homophonous chant nor the function of the instrumental ensemble to that of an accompaniment.
This work has come to be considered possibly the greatest piece of music from Stravinsky’s “neo-classic” period. The reference to “masters of contrapuntal music” brings to mind Bach and Handel. Stravinsky, however, was striving not merely for an 18th-century flavor but for a universal feeling of ancientness as well. Thus, he asks for children’s voices (as were employed in the Renaissance) to be added to the soprano section if possible, and his instrumentation is unusual. The woodwind and brass sections are full, and he adds a harp and two pianos, but there are instruments conspicuously missing from the orchestra: clarinets, violins, and violas. This leaves the woodwinds with an emphasis on double reeds, and the remaining low string sections (cellos and basses) evoking the feeling of a Baroque basso continuo accompaniment, particularly when coupled with the pianos.
For the symphony’s three movements, Stravinsky chose Psalm verses from the Latin Vulgate that progress from penitence to praise. The first movement is a setting of verses 13 and 14 of Psalm 38. We are immediately struck by the austerity and economy of the musical materials. The chorus chants, the instruments concentrate on repeated patterns and the music reaches a subtle, restrained climax at the end.
The second movement (Psalm 39, verses 1-4) is a double fugue — a piece with two equal themes. The first theme appears in the orchestra, where it remains throughout the movement. The other theme enters later and is restricted to the chorus. Here we begin to feel the real power and sweep of the work, as Stravinsky’s “great contrapuntal development” moves into place.
The final — and longest — movement begins without a pause. Stravinsky, master of the unexpected, begins with a quietly lush, languid setting of the word, “Alleluia,” followed by a truly ritualistic presentation of the opening verses of Psalm 150 (“Laudate Dominum” — Praise the Lord), a text which the movement goes on to apply in its entirety. Rhythmically repeated chords in the horns announce a substantial, driving passage for orchestra alone. The chorus joins in, and the excitement builds to a fever pitch. Briefly, the lush “Alleluia” interrupts, but then the driving momentum resumes with further verses in the chorus and more excitement in the orchestra. Ultimately, the fervor winds down, and Stravinsky sets forth his final section, a reverent apotheosis of the Psalm’s last verses, ending appropriately and devoutly with the reprise: “Alleluia, laudate Dominum.”
Symphony No. 4 in G Major
Gustav Mahler (1860-1911)
The Return to Innocence and to Innocent Faith — that is the topic of the Fourth Symphony of Gustav Mahler. And for the core of the symphony, completed in 1901, Mahler returned to an earlier piece of his music: a song completed in 1892 based on the poem Wir geniessen die himmlischen Freuden (All heavenly joys are ours) from the folkloric collection, Des Knaben Wunderhorn (From the Youth’s Magic Horn). Mahler had once considered placing this song at the very end of his Third Symphony, but the already lengthy work would not stand another movement, so the composer decided to build an entire new symphony around it. Rather than take up the song at the beginning of the Fourth Symphony, however, Mahler placed at the end with everything leading up to it — returning to it, as it were.
The childlike recurring motto for sleigh bells and flute, which opens the first movement, announces the idea of innocence. Both the form of the movement and elements of its ingratiating themes are a return to the Classic Period of music. Thus, the deceptively simple-sounding music of Mozart and Haydn probably also represented innocence to Mahler. He stated that this music “begins as if it didn’t know how to count up to three, but then it suddenly starts to multiply on a grand scale and ends up by calculating in dizzying millions.”
The second movement begins diabolically, as Mahler said,
. . . The gruesome dance of Death, lead by a figure of popular demonology. . . . It is the mistuned fiddle of the skeletal figure of death that is heard at the opening of the movement. . . . Mysterious, intricate, and sinister, the Scherzo will make your hair stand on end, but it will be followed by the Adagio, which puts everything right again and shows that no harm was intended.
Mahler once told his protégé, Bruno Walter, that the serenity and beauty of the third movement Adagio “were caused by his vision of a church sepulcher showing a recumbent stone image of the deceased with his arms crossed in eternal sleep.” According to Mahler, however, this fully developed set of variations (on two themes) “also contains the features of St. Ursula,” one of the saints mentioned in the finale’s song. From time to time, Mahler had reflected on his own time of innocence, associating St. Ursula’s smile with “my mother’s infinitely sad face, as though she were laughing through her tears, for she too, in spite of her immense sufferings, always lovingly resolved and pardoned all things.” Mahler felt that in this movement he had achieved “the most complex mixtures of colors ever produced.” The ending he called “music of the spheres,” containing an “almost religious and Catholic atmosphere.”
Das himmlische Leben (Heavenly Life) was the original title of Mahler’s 1892 song, a child’s vision of heaven filled with good things to eat. As the final movement of his symphony, Mahler called it “the tapering spire of the edifice.”
What I had in mind was extremely hard to achieve; the uniform blue of the sky being much more difficult to render than all its changing and contrasting hues. Well, that’s the general atmosphere of the piece. Occasionally, however, it darkens and becomes phantasmagorical and terrifying . . . one suddenly takes fright; just as on the most beautiful day in a sunlit forest, one can be seized with terror or panic.
Innocence and peace, however, are always restored, and at the end, the symphony comes to rest quietly in the depths of the low harp and contrabasses.
* * *
The translated text runs as follows:
All heavenly joys are ours,
Pleasures of earth we disdain.
No worldly strife
Mars our heavenly life.
We live here in sweetest peace.
We lead an angelic life,
Yet are merry as can be.
We dance and spring,
We jump and sing
While St. Peter in Heaven looks on.
[orchestral interlude]
The lamb we have from St. John.
Herod, the butcher will be.
We lead the meek and innocent
Little lamb to the death.
St. Luke slaughters the oxen
Without any worry or heed.
The wine costs us naught
From our heavenly draught
And the angels bake us our bread.
[orchestral interlude]
Fine vegetables grow
In the garden of Heaven.
Good asparagus, good beans,
Whatever we please.
Whole plates of them wait to be eaten.
Good apples, good pears, good grapes!
The gardeners give what we wish.
And roebucks and hares
Run into our arms
Here in the open streets!
St. Peter he runs
With his net and bait
To fish in the heavenly pond.
St. Martha must cook the catch.
[orchestral interlude]
On earth there is no music
To be compared with ours.
The eleven thousand virgins
Make bold to dance.
And St. Ursula smiles on the scene.
Cecilia, her kith and her kin
Play like a royal band.
And choirs of angels
Lift up our spirits
To the highest of heavenly joys.
(translation by Edward Downes)
Program Notes by Michael Fink and Notes, Inc.
