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Programme Notes: Sunday 22nd June 2008 8pm R. Vaughan Williams Five Mystical Songs (words by George Herbert) C. V. Stanford Songs of the Sea (words by Henry Newbolt) 1. Drake’s Drum Interval J. Brahms Hungarian Dances Hungarian Dance no. 3 Zigeunerlieder, Op. 103 (words by Hugo Conrat) 1. He, Zigeuner, greife in die Saiten Stephen Foulkes bass Stephen Foulkes is a lay clerk in the choir of Wells Cathedral and formerly sang with Bristol Cathedral Choir for ten years. He is a regular soloist with choirs and choral societies throughout the UK, and last sang with the Cherwell Singers at their concert in Exeter College in March. Luke Bond piano Luke Bond is Organist of Clifton College. Prior to this he held positions as Assistant Director of Music at St Mary’s, Warwick and organ scholarships at Gloucester and Truro Cathedrals. In September he takes up the position of Assistant Organist at Truro Cathedral. James Brown conductor James Brown is Organist of the University Church, Oxford and a lay clerk in the choir of New Collegewith whom he tours to Germany, France, Hungary and Italy later this year. A former organ scholar of Girton College, Cambridge and student at the Conservatoire de Musique, Geneva, he also sings with Collegium Vocale, Ghent (conductor Phillipe Herreweghe). Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) was a late developer, reaching his mid-thirties before attracting serious attention as a composer. His musical style was profoundly influenced by his love of Tudor music and his immensely important work in collecting English folksongs.
The Five Mystical Songs were written shortly after Vaughan Williams studied with Ravel for a brief three months. They are settings of poems by George Herbert (1593-1633). The baritone soloist is prominent in the first three of the songs, with the chorus taking a subsidiary role. In the opening song, the lute and its music are used as a metaphor for the poet’s emotions at Easter. The second song features a simple but moving melody for the baritone soloist, who is joined by the chorus for the third verse. In the third song the choir can be heard intoning the ancient plainsong antiphon, O sacrum convivium. The fourth movement, The Call, is for baritone solo. An accompaniment suggestive of pealing bells introduces the triumphant final song of praise, in which the chorus is heard alone to full effect. Charles Villiers Stanford (1852-1924) was perhaps the most distinguished of Irish composers. His music shows the influence of Brahms and Schumann, but he was generally unresponsive to more modern musical techniques and movements. While he was Professor of Composition at the Royal College of Music the composers Holst and Vaughan Williams were among his students. As a composer Stanford was particularly respected for his choral works, especially his church music, and for his editions of Irish and other traditional songs. Stanford wrote several secular works with a nautical theme, among which is the Songs of the Sea. These songs, based on poems by the poet-laureate, Sir Henry Newbolt, capture something of the patriotic spirit of Edwardian Britain, and the very nostalgic quality of this sentiment. They were not written originally as a group; it was the enthusiasm of the singer Plunket Greene for the first two, Devon, O Devon and Outward Bound, which encouraged Stanford to request further poems from Newbolt. The ‘Old Superb’ followed, and when Plunket Greene requested even more the result was Drake’s Drum and Homeward Bound. The songs Drake’s Drum and Devon, O Devon refer to the life of Sir Francis Drake, and The ‘Old Superb’ refers to Nelson’s chase of the French fleet back and forth across the Atlantic in the lead-up to Trafalgar.
In his Hungarian Dances, Brahms aims at stylizing the spirit and idiom of the national airs in the traditional form of the concert piece. In a way, they are the antithesis of Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsodies, which attempt to translate the colour and texture of a Gypsy band in terms of piano technique. In Liszt’s method, being the more superficial, we naturally find little trace of the Hungarian idiom except in his professedly Hungarian music. Brahms, however, absorbed the Hungarian spirit, and translated it into his own musical vocabulary. Musically, the most interesting example of Hungarian influence on Brahms is the Zigeunerlieder, which are settings of Hungarian folk songs translated into German by his friend Hugo Conrat. In Brahms’s later period of creative output, he is no longer so naively wedded to the folk song melodies, and there are many little traits in his more elaborate songs which show how completely he had adapted the language of the folk song. In the Zigeunerlieder, written around 1887, Brahms captured the spirit of Hungarian folk music without copying it; instead of quoting or writing an imitation of Hungarian music, Brahms steeps himself in Hungarian feeling. That this approach was quite deliberate can be clearly seen in a comparison between the earlier Hungarian Dances and the Zigeunerlieder. Although the former are more overtly Hungarian in character, the latter are more imbued with the true Hungarian spirit. This subtlety could only have been achieved by the mature Brahms, who had spent his whole creative life in contact with Hungarian music and musicians. The Zigeunerlieder are mostly about flirting and love, and rejection and parting; in the singing and accompaniment, one can visualize the colours and the twirling skirts and hear the intricate sounds of energetic violins and cimbaloms. Brahms’s mastery of counterpoint adds to the excitement of many of the eleven songs. Only towards the end does he slow down briefly for some reflections on parting and love.
1. He, Zigeuner, greife in die Saiten Hey, Gypsy, strike up the violin! 2. Hochgetürmte Rimaflut High-flooded river Rima, how murky you are, 3. Wißt ihr, wenn mein Kindchen Do you know when my darling is most beautiful? Do you know when I like my sweetheart best? 4. Lieber Gott, du weißt Dear God, you know how often I’ve regretted Dear God, you know how often, in the still of night, 5. Brauner Bursche führt zum Tanze A sun-tanned lad leads his beautiful blue-eyed lass to the dance. 6. Röslein dreie in der Reihe Three red roses blossom in a row; The finest town in the plain is Kecskemét; 7. Kommt dir manchmal in den Sinn Do you ever recall, my sweetheart, what you solemnly promised me? 8. Horch, der Wind klagt in den Zweigen Listen, the wind sighs sadly in the branches; The night is dark, no star shines; 9. Weit und breit schaut niemand mich an Far and wide no one notices me; No star shines in the dark night, 10. Mond verhüllt sein Angesicht The moon hides her face. 11. Rote Abendwolken ziehn Red evening clouds fly above, Paul Hodges The Cherwell Singers
Review from The Oxford Times 26th June 2008 Cherwell Singers: Du Pre Music Building
By Giles Woodforde
Do you know when I like my sweetheart best?" That's an intriguing question, and it's asked in Zigeunerlieder, a group of Hungarian folk songs assembled by Hugo Conrat, and set by Brahms. Later we are told (with assertive piano accompaniment from the excellent Luke Bond) that "a sun-tanned lad leads his beautiful blue-eyed lass to the dance". The whole cycle shows Brahms letting his hair down, and it well suited the Cherwell Singers' light tone - although the men sounded a spot wary when they assured us: "A lad's allowed to visit his lass." Since last September, the singers have been directed by James Brown (pictured) , who somehow manages to combine the post with the job of organist at the University Church, not to mention singing with New College Choir and Collegium Vocale, Ghent. He plainly invigorates the singers, and his conducting style radiates energy, as well as focusing tightly on the music. The concert began with Five Mystical Songs by Vaughan Williams, and here Brown brought out the lilting, quintessentially English, nature of the music as he led the choir through the testing, quiet soprano entry in Love bade me welcome, and all the way to the final full-blast rendering of O let the world in every corner sing. The English atmosphere was well captured, too, by baritone soloist Stephen Foulkes. While Foulkes does occasionally leave the odd word buried at the bottom of his throat, his voice is very pleasant to listen to, and he expertly phrases his overall musical line. His robust voice was well suited to the third work in the programme, Charles Villiers Stanford's setting of Sir Henry Newbolt's Songs of the Sea. Set for soloist and choir tenors and basses, these songs are tub-thumping stuff, but contrasting passages suggesting a darker melancholy, often to be found in Stanford's music, were also carefully brought out in this satisfyingly rounded performance.
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