BRUCKNER BICENTENNIAL BLOG / PART 2 OF 4
Sacred Music of Anton Bruckner, Part 2:
A Blog of Personal Reflections:
Sacred Music of Anton Bruckner, Part 2:
A Blog of Personal Reflections:
Motets & Magnificat
by Donald Beagle
Anton Bruckner’s motets, when thoughtfully performed and professionally recorded, are (with a few exceptions) brilliant gems of musical and spiritual expression. Moreover, their sophistication and economy of scale defy stereotypes about Bruckner the composer of symphonic “anacondas.”
Even working within formal constraints as austere (and seemingly limiting) as the plainchant tradition, Bruckner achieved impressively varying musical effects. The Pange lingua in E Phrygian Mode again reaches far back to an antecedent era. Because this motet displays harmonic technique that Bruckner exploits to brilliant effect in the great Mass #2 in E Minor, it seems worth digressing a moment to quote the Wikipedia entry about the “Phrygian” mode: “The early Catholic Church developed a system of eight musical modes that medieval music scholars gave names drawn from the ones used to describe the ancient Greek harmoniai. The name ‘Phrygian’ was applied to the third of these eight church modes, the authentic mode on E, described as the diatonic octave extending from E to the E an octave higher and divided at B, therefore beginning with a semitone-tone-tone-tone pentachord, followed by a semitone-tone-tone tetrachord (Powers 2001).” Bruckner’s penetrating attention to detail is revealed by the subtle “Amen” that ends this Pange lingua, when he could have easily settled for the simpler descending cadence.
From his 19th century perspective, Bruckner was also able to subtly transform painchant tradition by infusing its conventions with novel elements of polyphony. In Afferentur Regi, he achieves this transformation while "applying his erudition with a light touch" as one musicologist describes it.
Afferentur Regi
https://youtu.be/AF2KP_JpkHk
A related cliché one sometimes hears is that Bruckner uses the sheer sound of massed orchestration to hide underlying compositional weaknesses. In a later blog post I may dispute this more directly with regard to the symphonic works. But in the realm of his sacred music, such criticism is easily dismissed. As these works enter the repertoire, some performers are experimenting with further scaling back the motets’ already-spare vocal and instrumental arrangements. What does Bruckner’s music sound like when his “camouflage” of massed orchestration is totally stripped away? In the album “Departure,” trombonist Gerry Pagano dispenses with vocalists altogether, performing the later motet Vexilla Regis as a purely instrumental work. On this level of abstraction, it emerges as a satisfying piece of pure music.
Having heard Gerry Pagano, this seems a good place to note that Bruckner explored the sonority of brass ensembles in sacred music, and composed several works for trombones and other brass instruments without vocal accompaniment. His "Alleluja" (sometimes titled "Prayer and Alleluja") is, to me, the most interesting of these. Structured as an extended fanfare, it seems sufficiently similar to Copland's wonderful "Fanfare for the Common Man," (with many performances of the two works having nearly identical runtimes), that one wonders whether Copland ever studied it Bruckner's much earlier "Alleluja" fanfare is, however, vastly different in its ideological underpinnings. And its sonic impact differs accordingly, being a musical celebration of spirituality transcending the commonplace.
Having heard motets through the reductionist sounds of 8 singers (Os Justi) and 4 singers (Virga Jesse), as well as a purely instrumental version of Vexilla Regis, the following full-scale performance of Ecce sacerdos magnus brings us to the more familiar territory of the most opulent Brucknerian sound: chorus, pipe organ, and brass, in the fitting setting of a cathedral where Bruckner’s pauses reverberate with the echoing aftermaths of exalted and complex sonorities:
But the individuality of these motets does not depend on my carefully choosing performers with idiosyncratic styles or settings. Let’s listen to the same pipe organ and the same choir as they evoke a contrasting experience with Tantum ergo, a motet that presents a more fluid approach to varying melodic lines and contrasting harmonics
We now move from one of his most familiar works to one of the most rarely performed. Asperges me conveys a similar sense of ethereal suspension, as performed here by the Sine Nomine Singers. But the expressive spark in this motet is really not melodic. Tonal lines weave through its very tight 2min. 38sec. length in a novel and angular manner. The harmonics are oblique and often unexpected, perhaps explaining the scarcity of recordings. This interpretation of Asperges me interests me in that it seems to find a special point where Bruckner’s music looks to the past and future simultaneously, as he also does at certain points in the E Minor Mass and in his song Um Mitternacht. Even the “Amen” feels unorthodox, ending this work with an inverted (or rising) cadence. Note: this live recording has a few faint background noises:
Having introduced this hint of drama, we turn to motets that move toward greater emotive range and intensity: Christus factus est and Libera me. Two YouTube versions of Christus factus est are worth special mention because they are sung in the sort of impressive visual settings well-suited to Bruckner’s striking choral style. Unfortunately, both of my favorite videos are marred by slightly sub-par recording environments, such as a few very brief “snips” of interrupted sound in this Easter Service at King's College Cambridge from 2013:
An even more opulent setting is seen in this Mass with Pope Benedict XVI, sung by the Westminster Cathedral Choir on 18 September 2010. Sadly, the spaciousness of the setting was not matched by sufficiently sophisticated recording technology, slightly undermining a brilliantly powerful performance. Bruckner’s phrasings too often sound attenuated and muddled. This video does, however, convey the dramatic force of this brief composition. (The final 90 seconds of the video concludes with an organ solo not identified in the notes, but not to my knowledge a Bruckner composition).
Libera me plays for the same length as many Bruckner motets, but within its five minutes one hears great range of expression, including a resonant fugal interlude. This motet, more than most others, seems to benefit from a larger ensemble—not to conceal any compositional weakness, but to properly articulate the density of its inspirational substance.
For a change of pace, I’ll end this review of motets to include another brief choral work that is rarely performed, Bruckner’s Magnificat. This may be, in my personal view, the most unjustly neglected of Bruckner’s short-form compositions, moving with a melodic sense of serene assurance and fluidity. J. S. Bach composed what I consider the definitive setting of the “long-form” Magnificat. But while Bruckner had obviously studied Bach’s organ and choral works extensively, I feel his approach to this superb short-form Magnificat was more influenced by Mozart’s similar-length setting of the same text in K339. I am always struck by how adeptly and seamlessly Bruckner handles the dynamic interplay of soloists, instrumentalists, and choir.
Anton Bruckner’s motets, when thoughtfully performed and professionally recorded, are (with a few exceptions) brilliant gems of musical and spiritual expression. Moreover, their sophistication and economy of scale defy stereotypes about Bruckner the composer of symphonic “anacondas.”
Most of the thirty-plus motets are under 5 minutes in length, with a few just slightly longer. Yet these 3, 4, and 5-minute works are infused with an expansive sense of timelessness. Some mysteriously echo the antiquity of Palestrina, while others, even more mysteriously, hint at an intuitive anticipation of later composers such as Ligeti.
These exquisite miniatures also defy another cliché, that “Bruckner composed the same symphony nine times over.” Did Bruckner compose the same motet dozens of times? Emphatically no. And in my next post, I will show how his numerous settings of the Mass, while obviously all drawing on the same textual liturgy, display an even greater degree of individuality, diverging in extremis from any formulaic expectation.
For this post, I’ll begin with a selection of motets. The unique expressiveness of each Bruckner motet is informed by the composer’s grasp of their underlying texts. Even to a non-Catholic such as myself, it is clear these works achieve resonance through the composer’s interpretations of the liturgy’s spiritual and historical depths. The subtlety of these interpretations again undermines the dismissive stereotype of Bruckner the “country bumpkin.” Of course, not everyone will enjoy sacred motets, no matter the technical skill and expressive nuances, just as some remain unmoved by Chopin’s Nocturnes. In Os Justi, as performed here by VOCES8, we hear the composer exploring vaulted polyphonies reminiscent of Palestrina:
Os Justi
The following motet looks even further into antiquity, showing influence of early monophonic plainchant. The chant is initially carried by lower-register (“male”) singers. When treble (“female”) harmonics emerge at key points, flowing out of those deeper tonalities, they create textured and contrasting accentuations that subtly recast the chant in an idiom more closely akin to the 19th century (though one would hardly call them “romantic.”) The contrasting tonal patterns between chanting thematic lines and harmonizing chorales then move through modal variations as the motet proceeds.
Salvum fac populuum tuum
Even working within formal constraints as austere (and seemingly limiting) as the plainchant tradition, Bruckner achieved impressively varying musical effects. The Pange lingua in E Phrygian Mode again reaches far back to an antecedent era. Because this motet displays harmonic technique that Bruckner exploits to brilliant effect in the great Mass #2 in E Minor, it seems worth digressing a moment to quote the Wikipedia entry about the “Phrygian” mode: “The early Catholic Church developed a system of eight musical modes that medieval music scholars gave names drawn from the ones used to describe the ancient Greek harmoniai. The name ‘Phrygian’ was applied to the third of these eight church modes, the authentic mode on E, described as the diatonic octave extending from E to the E an octave higher and divided at B, therefore beginning with a semitone-tone-tone-tone pentachord, followed by a semitone-tone-tone tetrachord (Powers 2001).” Bruckner’s penetrating attention to detail is revealed by the subtle “Amen” that ends this Pange lingua, when he could have easily settled for the simpler descending cadence.
Pange lingua in E Phrygian Mode
From his 19th century perspective, Bruckner was also able to subtly transform painchant tradition by infusing its conventions with novel elements of polyphony. In Afferentur Regi, he achieves this transformation while "applying his erudition with a light touch" as one musicologist describes it.
Afferentur Regi
https://youtu.be/AF2KP_JpkHk
A related cliché one sometimes hears is that Bruckner uses the sheer sound of massed orchestration to hide underlying compositional weaknesses. In a later blog post I may dispute this more directly with regard to the symphonic works. But in the realm of his sacred music, such criticism is easily dismissed. As these works enter the repertoire, some performers are experimenting with further scaling back the motets’ already-spare vocal and instrumental arrangements. What does Bruckner’s music sound like when his “camouflage” of massed orchestration is totally stripped away? In the album “Departure,” trombonist Gerry Pagano dispenses with vocalists altogether, performing the later motet Vexilla Regis as a purely instrumental work. On this level of abstraction, it emerges as a satisfying piece of pure music.
Vexilla Regis
Having heard Gerry Pagano, this seems a good place to note that Bruckner explored the sonority of brass ensembles in sacred music, and composed several works for trombones and other brass instruments without vocal accompaniment. His "Alleluja" (sometimes titled "Prayer and Alleluja") is, to me, the most interesting of these. Structured as an extended fanfare, it seems sufficiently similar to Copland's wonderful "Fanfare for the Common Man," (with many performances of the two works having nearly identical runtimes), that one wonders whether Copland ever studied it Bruckner's much earlier "Alleluja" fanfare is, however, vastly different in its ideological underpinnings. And its sonic impact differs accordingly, being a musical celebration of spirituality transcending the commonplace.
Bruckner’s motets are typically sung by choirs ranging in size from 8 to 20 singers or more. But in another reductionist experiment, the singers of VOX AQUARUM perform Virga Jesse as an a capella quartet: 2 women, 2 men; no supporting choir; no pipe organ; no brass. Are Bruckner’s compositional weakness suddenly laid bare? Quite the opposite. We instead hear the intriguing intricacies of Bruckner’s modulations and the originality of his melodic permutations with greater clarity. Each time I hear this video, I feel newly surprised that its runtime is only 3min. 26sec. This points to a distinction between being a miniaturist vs. a minimalist: while a minimalist might build a very lengthy work from very few elements, Bruckner found ways to instill a rich variety of elements into a format of severely limited duration, yet somehow without leaving it feeling rushed or congested.
Virga Jesse
Having heard motets through the reductionist sounds of 8 singers (Os Justi) and 4 singers (Virga Jesse), as well as a purely instrumental version of Vexilla Regis, the following full-scale performance of Ecce sacerdos magnus brings us to the more familiar territory of the most opulent Brucknerian sound: chorus, pipe organ, and brass, in the fitting setting of a cathedral where Bruckner’s pauses reverberate with the echoing aftermaths of exalted and complex sonorities:
Ecce sacerdos magnus
But the individuality of these motets does not depend on my carefully choosing performers with idiosyncratic styles or settings. Let’s listen to the same pipe organ and the same choir as they evoke a contrasting experience with Tantum ergo, a motet that presents a more fluid approach to varying melodic lines and contrasting harmonics
Tantum ergo
And Tantum Ergo happens to be a superb example of the breadth of Bruckner's interpretive range, since he composed at least eight known music settings of this text. (This was hardly unique in the milieu of sacred choral music, of course. Palestrina composed more than 30 settings of the text of the Magnificat, and numerous composers obviously produced multiple settings of the Latin Mass). The version of Tantum Ergo linked above is almost certainly the most frequently performed, but I find it interesting to compare it to the very contrasting versions Bruckner composed earlier and later.
The earliest setting was also possibly the most affecting of the Tantum Ergo series. But as often happens, just as we are lulled into expecting Bruckner to complete his first phrase sequence with understated simplicity, he surprises us with a brief but effective descending cascade that creates a very effective contrast:
Tantum Ergo-- early lyrical setting
https://youtu.be/G0eXZbub7tg
Bruckner returned to this text several times, and in this version, realized perhaps his most reflective and philosophically searching interpretation. There are no compositional gimmicks here; this version seems a model of restrained decorum at first, but holds up very well to repeated listening sessions thanks to the subtleties of its harmonic modulations and nuanced melodic sequencing:
Tantum Ergo -- 41/1
Bruckner’s Ave Maria (WAB 6) is today one of his most oft-performed choral works (he rescored this text on a couple occasions; but this version remains, I think, the most performed and recorded.) Even more than Tantum ergo, its artistry is carried by the sheer beauty of elegant melodic contours, with spare harmonics that give it a weightless atmosphere, as if it defies gravity and levitates to the vaulted ceiling of whatever church or cathedral it may be performed in. This performance was featured on a recording by Schola Cantorum and was nominated for a 2013 Grammy Award:
Ave Maria
We now move from one of his most familiar works to one of the most rarely performed. Asperges me conveys a similar sense of ethereal suspension, as performed here by the Sine Nomine Singers. But the expressive spark in this motet is really not melodic. Tonal lines weave through its very tight 2min. 38sec. length in a novel and angular manner. The harmonics are oblique and often unexpected, perhaps explaining the scarcity of recordings. This interpretation of Asperges me interests me in that it seems to find a special point where Bruckner’s music looks to the past and future simultaneously, as he also does at certain points in the E Minor Mass and in his song Um Mitternacht. Even the “Amen” feels unorthodox, ending this work with an inverted (or rising) cadence. Note: this live recording has a few faint background noises:
Asperges me
A far more oft-performed motet, Locus iste, emerges from silence with serene melodic lines that recall the elegant simplicity of the Ave Maria. But out of this tranquility the composer proceeds to add forceful undertones in lower registers that convey unmistakable elements of dramatic potential—a potential we will hear explored more powerfully in subsequent motets:
Locus iste
Having introduced this hint of drama, we turn to motets that move toward greater emotive range and intensity: Christus factus est and Libera me. Two YouTube versions of Christus factus est are worth special mention because they are sung in the sort of impressive visual settings well-suited to Bruckner’s striking choral style. Unfortunately, both of my favorite videos are marred by slightly sub-par recording environments, such as a few very brief “snips” of interrupted sound in this Easter Service at King's College Cambridge from 2013:
Christus factus est
An even more opulent setting is seen in this Mass with Pope Benedict XVI, sung by the Westminster Cathedral Choir on 18 September 2010. Sadly, the spaciousness of the setting was not matched by sufficiently sophisticated recording technology, slightly undermining a brilliantly powerful performance. Bruckner’s phrasings too often sound attenuated and muddled. This video does, however, convey the dramatic force of this brief composition. (The final 90 seconds of the video concludes with an organ solo not identified in the notes, but not to my knowledge a Bruckner composition).
Libera me plays for the same length as many Bruckner motets, but within its five minutes one hears great range of expression, including a resonant fugal interlude. This motet, more than most others, seems to benefit from a larger ensemble—not to conceal any compositional weakness, but to properly articulate the density of its inspirational substance.
Libera me
For a change of pace, I’ll end this review of motets to include another brief choral work that is rarely performed, Bruckner’s Magnificat. This may be, in my personal view, the most unjustly neglected of Bruckner’s short-form compositions, moving with a melodic sense of serene assurance and fluidity. J. S. Bach composed what I consider the definitive setting of the “long-form” Magnificat. But while Bruckner had obviously studied Bach’s organ and choral works extensively, I feel his approach to this superb short-form Magnificat was more influenced by Mozart’s similar-length setting of the same text in K339. I am always struck by how adeptly and seamlessly Bruckner handles the dynamic interplay of soloists, instrumentalists, and choir.
Magnificat
No comments:
Post a Comment