June: Purcell - Hail, Bright Cecilia

[Jared]

Simon just to say that thus far I've been very much enjoying your notes... a thoroughly excellent read! Many thanks.

[Diapason]

Thank you, Jared. Getting there slowly but surely!

[Diapason]

Following on nicely from Jaybee's post about talking trees, the next movement is the alto (or treble) and bass duet, Hark! each tree, where the trees of the forest begin to "talk" and become the violin and flute. This movement takes the form of a Sarabande over a "ground bass", where the continuo section (generally bass viol or similar with lute/harpsichord/organ) repeats the same line over and over for the duration of the piece, and the rest of the music unfolds on top of it. The ground bass is a device that Purcell used regularly, and he truly was a master of the art. We'll be seeing another ground bass at a pivotal moment later, and if you listen to his other Odes, Welcome songs, Anthems, Services, etc., you'll find ground basses popping up again and again. Dido's Lament is probably the most well-known example.

Anyway, back to Hark! each tree. After the continuo introduces the ground in A minor, the violins and flutes engage in a sprightly dialogue (often played "dotted", in keeping with the underlying dance) leading to a similar strategy between bass and alto for the opening line. Purcell pairs the violin with the bass voice, and the purer tones of the flutes with the alto voice, and again I find the effect here works best if the higher part is sung by a countertenor, especially when the voices come together for the intricately weaving lines as "silence breaks". This opening is repeated, giving the singers a chance to embellish the line still further and show their skill, before another extended bit of word-painting and a marvellous dialogue on "to talk".

It's worth noting that the key centre for the ground bass changes here for the first time, moving from A minor to C major, flagging the change of subject matter as the "box and fir" trees begin to talk. At this point, I probably don't even need to point out Purcell's treatment of the word "sprightly", nor the obvious point that the "sprightly violin" is sung by the bass, once again accompanied by the violins! The change of mood for the flute section (sung by alto, accompanied by flutes) is mirrored by another change of key centre (to E minor). Rather than extended melismatic writing, Purcell opts to repeat the word "distinctly" in "distinctly speaks" which, if it's not over-egging the pudding, adds some vocal clarity and, you might say, makes things more distinct!

We move to G major for the repitition of the sprightly violin, but the return to E minor for the flutes sees an increase in intensity as the basses now join in with proceedings rather insistently, almost making it sound like the argument has reached its head, when both alto and bass sing the same words on "distinctly speaks". The violins take off on a sprightly dance, but are repeatedly interrupted by the flutes, until finally coming together just before the next bass entry.

As the basses sing "Twas sympathy" (before being sympathetically joined by the altos) Purcell performs yet another piece of musical brilliance. He returns to the original key of A minor, but this time he turns the ground bass upside-down, so note moves that were formerly "up" are now "down" and vice-versa. It's often easier to see this on the page, and for those who read music I'd encourage a visit to imslp.org, but in any case the effect is ravishing. As the words tell us "with leafy wings they flew" so the music soars, first in the alto, then the bass, then seamlessly blended together. Purcell also seamlessly slips back into the original (non-inverted) ground bass in A minor along the way, and one final playful dialogue between violins and flutes brings the movement to a close.

As you've probably guessed from all the gushing, I love this duet, it's one of my favourite movements of the work, and I think it's a very fine example of what Purcell was all about. On the surface it sounds very pleasant and bounces along easily, but the underlying structure and sheer musical *cleverness* make it even more compelling. The more I look at this music the more I find to admire and enjoy, and while structural intricacies don't always lead to great music, I think Purcell shows his class here.

[jaybee]

Is the Gardiner version's pronunciation of "Tree", historically informed??

Thereee!

[fergus]

Thhe Hark! each tree is a particularly charming section and is definitely rewarded with repeated listening especially with the help of the above illuminating notes. A musical technique that I particularly like from music of this period is that of the ground base. I find that it gives a solid foundation to the music and in this particular piece I think that it really helps the music to move along. Parrott uses a countertenor as the second voice in the duet and couples this voice with recorders and this produces a lovely light texture in the music.

[Diapason]

The next movement is probably the most celebrated of the entire Ode: Tis Nature's Voice. In reports of the first performance, this was flagged as being a particular favourite, but the quote has also caused much confusion. Despite the notes written on the performance score ascribing the performance to a Mr. Pate, the report talks of the air being "sung with incredible graces by Mr. Henry Purcell himself". Did Purcell do the singing (as many have assumed based on this comment) or did Purcell merely write the "incredible graces" (as suggested by Robert King)? The jury is still out.

The movement itself looks very "simple", featuring a solo voice (countertenor or high tenor) alone with the basso continuo. However, you'll be unsurprised to hear that Purcell takes this simple instrumentation and fills the vocal line with an array of impressive effects. The florid setting of the words "moving" and "move" are reasonably obvious at first listen, but more subtle effects come to light on closer inspection. The repetition of the word "mighty" on a rising sequence conjurs up a sense of strength, a mood immediately changed by the ravishing tones of "to court the ear", which in turn is suddenly interrupted by "strike". The change to F minor for "straight we grieve" is very affecting, and this is heightened by a move to increasingly remote keys, until the joyous outburst of "rejoice" brings us back to G major, before finally settling on the purity of C major for "love". The movement ends with the sighing of "charms the ear" and the the vocal dexterity of "captivates the mind", before linking straight into the next chorus.

The air is a tour de force of vocal writing and is, by all accounts, very difficult to sing. While this fact has never stopped me attempting it myself when alone in the house (!) it is indeed hard to find the "perfect" version among the CDs I own. Popular opinion would have it that Charles Daniels does the best job in the Parrott reading, and sure enough Charles Daniels is always brilliant, but once again I find myself craving the countertenor voice. A part of me thinks that Purcell was having some fun setting "Nature's voice" to a falsetto male, but maybe I'm reading too much into it. In any case, it's very low for a countertenor, and the normally-sound James Bowman struggles somewhat in Robert King's recording. I'd be interested to hear what forum members think about this, and who they prefer performing this movement.

[fergus]

Singing Tis Nature’s Voice in the solitude and safety of your own home....is there no end to your talent?! Definitely one for the next Forum meeting that you attend!!

I only have the Parrott version at the moment Simon but I can certainly confirm that it is sung very well indeed on this version. He articulates very well without sounding stiff or academic and he infuses the music with a lovely sense of calmness and also with restrained earnestness and reverence. I think that he does a great job. One can see why indeed you would be keen to sing it because it is a really lovely piece I think. I particularly like the fact that it is a solo accompanied by basso continuo alone.

[Diapason]

After the simple instrumentation of Tis Nature's Voice, the chorus Soul of the World arrives like a blaze of glory. Sopranos and basses kick things off, quickly joined by the altos and tenors singing together in dialogue. The strings double these lines in the same way, with first violins accompanying the sopranos and basses (over a pedal point in the continuo) and second violins and violas accompanying altos and tenors. This stately, almost static opening starts to move as the continuo starts up the scale of B-flat. However, the jarring effect of hearing an unexpected E natural in the bass and the tremolo strings do a fantastic job of illuminating the "jarring seeds of matter".

A marvellous fugal section follows to accompany the scattered atoms, with a very jaunty rhythm, before all four voices once again sing together for "which by thy laws of true proportion join'd". Purcell is not a man to resist the temptation of another fugal section for "made up of various parts", which once again displays the clever technique of inverting the theme in the altos and basses. A long note in the bass brings us to the end of the polyphonic section (a dominant pedal, the musicologists will tell you!) and the movement ends in a slower homophonic section (also over a dominant pedal) as the choir and strings come together one last time for "one perfect harmony".

Standing as (nearly) the centrepiece of the work, I find this chorus particularly effective, and I especially enjoy the contrast between the polyphonic sections and homophonic sections. Putting on my physicist hat, I must admit that the libretto also tickles my fancy. After all, 1692 is a mere 5 years after Newton published the first edition of Principia, dealing with the laws of motion, gravitation, etc., and from what I can tell London was awash with physicists trying to explain natural phenomena at this time. It may seem fanciful to suggest (as Brady does in this section of the poem) that the universe was built according to the rules of harmony, but as people like Niels Bohr began to discover about 200 years later, it's not so far from the truth. But that's another conversation for another day! Meanwhile, I'll continue to enjoy the scattered atoms binding into one perfect harmony.

[Diapason]

The soprano solo and chorus Thou Tun'dst This World takes the form of a minuet, and it begins with an extended, lively duet by the oboes, where all the themes used in the work are introduced. I had thought that maybe the use of oboes here might have something to do with the "tuning" mentioned in the title, but apparently I'm reading too much into it. The internet tells me that the practice of tuning an orchestra to the oboe seems to have started much later. Oh well!

The structure of the work itself is really rather straightforward: the oboes play the melodies, the soprano sings the same melodies, the chorus sings the same melodies accompanied by the oboes, the end. However, there are one or two musical surprises along the way, not least in the strange transition from F to F# at the end of the first line (in "above" when the line is sung by the soprano). As expected by now, Purcell goes to town with the word "move", setting it to a florid line over 4 bars in the first instance, and then 6 bars in the next. Apart from that I haven't much to tell you!

Historically this was a movement I always skipped over, but I think that's because my first recording featured a soprano that wasn't very enjoyable to listen to in this movement. Now I quite enjoy it if the soprano and chorus are up to the task, because I love the "clean" sound of oboes used as the only accompaniment (with continuo of course). It's also nice to have a genuinely simple, dancing movement in the middle of proceedings.

[Diapason]

The next movement, With That Sublime Celestial Lay*, stands at something of a thematic turning-point within the text, where we move from the rarified territory of celestial spheres and the laws of nature to the more practical, earthly considerations of different musical instruments. This contrast is wonderfully represented here: two countertenors singing interweaving, florid, melismatic lines represent the heavenly or celestial, and a lone bass represents the earthly. Without any accompaniment other than the continuo, it's amazing how effectively the bass's answer contrasts the countertenor's question "can any earthly sounds compare?" The dialogue gives the effect of a human conversing with heavenly angels, and this hints at what's to follow in the text, where we're told that "Cecilia oft convers'd with heav'n" in a short but beautiful contrapuntal section featuring all three singers. Another hint at what's to come is the shift to E minor for the bass singing "from heav'n its wondrous notes were given". Once again, there is the sense of the earthly breaking into the heavenly, as we hear a little snippet of the rhythm and feel of Wondrous Machine which is to follow.

Before then, however, we're back in the heavenly realm, as a single countertenor represents the angel whose breath inspired the organ's pipes. I love the call and response with the continuo for "just resemblance", before this section, and the heavenly allusions, are brought to a close. In a change of mood, all 3 singers join for the jaunty rhythms of "Brisk without lightness" followed by the comparitively serious repetitions of the word "grave". It's amazing how quickly Purcell can subtly change the mood to reflect the words, without any change in orchestration or make-up of singers. I've said before that I love the other-worldliness of the countertenor sound, and I think it's used so effectively here that it carries the whole movement. While Purcell may have had much larger than usual forces at his disposal for the work as a whole, in this trio he once again demonstrates his mastery of smaller forces.

*It should be noted that "lay" is an old word for song or tune. Stop sniggering at the back!