Igor Stravinsky Symphony of Psalms Igor Stravinsky was born in Oranienbaum, Russia in 1882 and died in New York City in 1971. He composed this work in 1930 on a commission from Serge Koussevitzky to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and it was first performed by the Brussels Philharmonic Chorus and Orchestra under the direction of Ernest Ansermet the same year. The score calls for mixed chorus, 5 flutes, piccolo, 5 oboes, English horn, 4 bassoons, contrabassoon, 4 horns, 5 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, harp, 2 pianos, and a string section of cellos and basses only. ***** Stravinsky was never one to display conspicuous religiosity, for he was an urbane and worldly man. He was nonetheless a man of strong belief. He had contemplated composing a large work based on the Psalms for some time; when Serge Koussevitzky and the Boston Symphony Orchestra commissioned him to write a piece to celebrate the orchestra’s 50th anniversary in 1930, they left the details up to him. He seized the opportunity to compose a work using the Psalms. The symphony is in three movements played without pause. “It is not a symphony in which I have included Psalms to be sung,” wrote Stravinsky. “On the contrary, it is the singing of the Psalms that I am symphonizing.” Each movement is based on a single Psalm. The first is based on Psalm 38:13-14 (in the Vulgate; 39:12-13 in the King James), the second on Psalm 39:2-4 (40:1-3 in the King James) and the third on Psalm 150. The order of the texts Stravinsky selected reveals the progression of the work’s musical and spiritual argument: “The juxtaposition of the three Psalms is not fortuitous. The prayer of the sinner for divine pity, the recognition of grace received, and the hymns of praise and glory are the basis of an evolutionary plan.” For Stravinsky the sonority of a work was as important as its music or its text. The Symphony of Psalms uses an orchestra of both unusual augmentations (five flutes, five oboes, five trumpets, two pianos) and subtractions (no clarinets, violins, or violas). This unique aggregation of instruments produces a sound- world that is as recognizable as the work’s musical themes. We have all heard an E-minor chord hundreds of times, but the one that opens this symphony has a sound unlike any other. Stravinsky takes something utterly ordinary and by spacing the notes in an unusual way, loading the chord with more Gs than is deemed proper, and applying instrumental color, he makes it extraordinary. This first movement is one long crescendo. The sinewy agitation of the orchestra opposes the tightly-spaced calm of the chorus; the tension between the two builds and builds towards the final, overwhelming release. The second movement is a double fugue. The first fugue comes with the “cool” sound of the wind instruments, and as it unfolds one imagines the spirit of Bach reincarnated in the 20th century to recompose the Musical Offering. Stravinsky called the chorus fugue the “human fugue, the next and higher stage.” As each of these follows its own pattern, Stravinsky refuses to submit to their harmonic implications until the end is reached in a stunning wave of harmonic brilliance. The “Alleluia” of Psalm 150 is where most composers would have released the greatest bombast in their arsenal, but Stravinsky’s is like a sigh; the bombast comes later. The final pages are a ravishing hymn of praise. When he completed the work he wrote in the score: “Composed to the glory of God and dedicated to the Boston Symphony Orchestra on the occasion of its fiftieth anniversary of its existence.” Stravinsky bristled when others suggested that the Symphony of Psalms must be an expression of his own faith. To him the work was really a reflection about the concept of faith. He wrote: “One hopes to worship God with a little art, if one has any.” ***** Franz Joseph Haydn Missa No. 14 in B-flat major, Hob. XXII:14 “Harmoniemesse” Franz Joseph Haydn was born in Rohrau, Austria in 1732 and died in Vienna in 1809. He composed this mass in 1802 on a commission from Prince Nikolaus Esterházy II and led the first performance in Eisenstadt, Hungary (now Austria) the same year. The score calls for soprano, alto, tenor, and bass soloists, chorus, flute, 2 oboes, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 2 horns, 2 trumpets, timpani, organ, and strings. ***** We usually think of Haydn as a composer of secular music, his service to the Esterházy court requiring an unending stream of symphonies, operas, and chamber music. Yet Haydn also composed fourteen masses. Two of these were juvenilia, now lost, but his last six found him returning once again to the Esterházy estates. When Prince Nikolaus Esterházy died and his son Anton took over, the new prince (who had no ear for music) disbanded the court orchestra and freed Haydn to pursue his own interests in Vienna and London. When Prince Anton died, his son (another Nikolaus) reconstituted the orchestra and commissioned Haydn for a very special purpose. The new Prince Nikolaus made a remarkable gift to his wife Maria, the former Princess of Liechtenstein, every year: a newly-composed mass in honor of her name day. As the world’s greatest living composer, Haydn was the natural choice. Thus did Haydn return to Esterháza, no longer a servant but an international superstar of music. The six masses Haydn composed for the new Prince Nikolaus came near the end of his life while he was at the height of his creative powers. Each is remarkable in its own way. The last of the six acquired the nickname “harmoniemesse” from the prominence of its wind parts—“harmonie” being the word for “wind-band.” The Kyrie begins majestically with an orchestral introduction, but in the fifth bar a strong dissonance serves notice that something deep is happening. Likewise with the entrance of the chorus—almost shockingly loud and again above a dissonance. This musical “problem” that Haydn sets for himself finds its “solution”—harmonic certitude—in the movement’s final Kyrie. As the Gloria begins there are no such ambiguities, but its wide-ranging text bring areas of darkness that make the light shine all the brighter. The alto soloist ushers in a slower tempo and harmoniemusik of great beauty; when the faster music returns it brings a double-fugue of stupendous energy. The Credo is as certain as the Kyrie was ambiguous. “Et incarnatus est” (“and was made flesh”) deserves its own, slower tempo; it gets this and a sublime serenity. The harmonic clouds of the crucifixion make the resurrection all the more brilliant. The dramatic juxtaposition of “I expect the resurrection of the dead” with “and the life of the world to come” is simply thrilling. The Sanctus is broad and serious, yet launches a faster and harmonically daring section at “Pleni sunt coeli” (“Heaven and Earth are filled with Thy glory”). The Benedictus is bursting with life and a surprising shift of gears at the “Osanna.” Despite the harmonic intensity of its “miserere” sections the Agnus Dei moves with steadfast inevitability. “Dona nobis pacem” (“grant us peace”) is simply glorious, all the more so for its brief moment of quietude before the end. This mass was Haydn’s last major work—what a heavenly finale. —Mark Rohr

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