Choral singing is by far the most popular public arts activity in America. This was the over-arching conclusion of America’s Performing Art—A Study of Choruses, Choral Singers, and Their Impact, the result of the 2003 survey by Chorus America. The study found that 15.6 percent of U.S. households included one or more adults (23.5 million in total) who had performed publicly with a chorus in the last twelve months. Add children into the mix, and almost one quarter of all U.S. households (28.5 million) have a family member actively singing in a choir.

In a time when the term “suburban sprawl” has become associated with the proliferation of bedroom communities where face-to-face civic interaction has diminished, it is important to recognize the continuing vitality of the two suburban choral societies gathered here today—one celebrating its thirty-fifth anniversary season in the greater Philadelphia area and the other concluding its forty-sixth season of regaling audiences with great music just outside our nation’s capitol.

The tradition of large community choral societies goes back to Handel’s London and the great democratization of music that continued on the Continent into the nineteenth century. As the middle class grew in numbers and self-awareness, gathering around the piano in the parlor or attending a concert in a new public concert hall became one of the main social activities of the era. In 1815, the Handel and Haydn Society in Boston became the first such choral society in America. By 2003, there were twelve thousand professional and amateur choral groups in the United States, in addition to the tens of thousands of church and school choirs of every kind.

We come together for concerts like this one for the prospect of participating directly in great works of art with people from every walk of life—fellow singers and music lovers like you. The music on our program today spans the two centuries of choral societies in the United States. It includes not only the music of Felix Mendelssohn, whose leadership as both a composer and conductor was critical in the growth of choral societies in both Germany and England, but of several living composers who continue to write for large choirs today.

The one exception to this historical span is Thomas Tallis’s iconic Spem in Alium for eight choirs of five parts each. Though rarely performed even in its own time, this work was no doubt intended to be sung by forty singers (one per part), not two hundred and forty! But choral singers are an ambitious lot, and we couldn’t resist this opportunity to sing one of the most fabled choral works of the all time. We hope you’ll be caught up in our enthusiasm as we surround you with our voices to sing these great masterworks of the ages!

Mendelssohn’s Heilig was part of an unfinished German setting of the mass written late in the composer’s life (1846) for the Berlin Singakademie. In broad and simple strokes, it represents a crystallization of Mendelssohn’s mastery of choral sonority.

Charles Stanford was a highly influential composer, conductor, and teacher in late nineteenth-century England. He is known today primarily for his church anthems, settings of the Anglican Magnificat and Nunc Dimitis, and for his important pupils, who included Vaughan Williams, Herbert Howells, and John Ireland. Arise, Shine is a rarely performed anthem for the Christmas season written in 1905. It sets a text from Isaiah (60:1-3) also famously found in Handel’s Messiah. The music combines Stanford’s characteristic robust, soaring style of choral writing with a colorful evocation of darkness. The anthem concludes with an unexpectedly serene statement of the opening text of the Gloria.

Leo Nestor is the Justine Bayard Ward Professor of Music at the Benjamin T. Rome School of Music at the Catholic University of America in Washington and the founding director of the American Repertory Singers. The antiphon Rorate caeli desuper is from his Four Motets on Plainsong Themes and was written in memory of the composer’s father in 1997. Freely composed melody in the style of medieval plainsong is sensitively molded to the inflection of the text. The composer cites the inspiration of Duruflé for his chant-based modal harmonic language, but the presence of his own distinctive voice is unmistakable.

Bruce Neswick is well known to Washington audiences through his time as an organist and choirmaster at the National Cathedral, the St. Albans School for Boys, and the Cathedral School for Girls. This summer he will begin a new position as Director of Music at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York. For I Will Set His Dominion in the Sea, he has conflated verses of two psalms (89 and 132) for a virtuoso anthem for organ and choir. A contemplative pastoral section in the middle balances the rousing energy of the opening and closing songs of praise.

The dramatic story of Saul’s conversion, as recounted in the Book of Acts, has inspired the creativity of artists and composers for centuries. While on the road to Damascus (c. A.D. 36) to annihilate the Christian community there, Saul of Tarsus was blinded by a brilliant light from heaven and heard the voice of Christ saying, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Known as “the conversion of Saul,” since the apostle turned from his murderous deeds and spent the remainder of his life in Christian ministry, this miraculous event has been depicted in the paintings of Caravaggio and Michelangelo and recreated in three notable choral settings by Heinrich Schütz, Egil Hovland, and Z. Randall Stroope.

Heinrich Schütz (1585-1677), a court composer whose music served as a bridge between the Renaissance and J. S. Bach, infused his sacred music with greater drama than previously heard in Germany. Joining the polychoral style he learned from his teacher Gabrieli with the soloistic approach he gleaned from the music of Monteverdi, Schütz produced some of the most dramatic “sacred program music” of his day. The concerto Saul, Saul, was verfolgst du mich (SWV 415), from part three of the Symphoniae sacrae of 1650 is a prime example. Considering its short duration, it is remarkable that Schutz scored the work for such enormous forces: a six-voice ensemble, two large four-part choruses, two violins, and continuo. This vocal and instrumental color is further enhanced by dynamic indications in the score ranging from forte to pianissimo and by the incessant calling of “Saul, Saul, Saul,” in the tenor voices. All of these resources contribute to produce a highly charged musical depiction of Saul’s conversion experience—music that must have seemed well ahead of its time to the composer’s seventeenth-century audience.

Equally dramatic, Saul, by the twentieth-century composer Egil Hovland, is scored for mixed chorus, narrator, and a large pipe organ. Hovland (born 1924), is one of Norway’s most productive contemporary composers, and also, perhaps, the one whose works are most frequently performed. He has embraced a variety of compositional styles and techniques, including Gregorian, Norwegian-Romantic, neo-classical, twelve-tone, aleatoric, and serial. His setting of Saul, composed in 1971, incorporates several of these techniques including the use of random statements of melodic material and short harmonic and melodic passages that include all twelve notes of the chromatic scale.

Most recently, American composer Z. Randall Stroope (born 1953) has set this text in The Conversion of Saull, a work composed for eight-part unaccompanied chorus. Divided into two distinct halves, this unique setting begins with a raucous depiction of death and destruction through the highly accentuated rhythmic treatment and repeated agitation of the text, “Caedite, vexate, ligate vinculis!” (Murder, harass, bind into chains!). A pedal tone gradually emerges in the middle of the piece, symbolizing the “one true light.” This continuum of light brings Saul to his knees, and “commissions” him to a life of “turning hatred into love” and bringing compassion to those around him. The work, which has quickly gained popularity with choirs around the world, was commissioned in 2004 by the Lake Highlands Chorale of Richardson Texas, directed by Lisa Cunningham.

Charles-Marie Widor was born in Lyon, France on February 21, 1944. His early organ studies were with the famous Jacques-Nicolas Lemmens in Brussels. In 1870, at the age of 26, Widor was appointed temporary organist of Saint-Sulpice in Paris, a post he held for 64 years, having never been given the official title of titular! In addition to his post at Saint-Sulpice, Widor became professor of organ at the Conservatoire following the death of César Franck in 1890. In 1896 he became professor of composition.

The famous Cavaillé-Coll organ at Saint-Sulpice was influential on Widor’s composition and the symphonic style of organ playing and composing in France. Widor, along with Louis Vierne, helped define the symphonic school of organ composition that began with the composition of César Franck’s Grande Piéce Symphonique many years earlier. Between the two of them, Vierne and Widor composed 16 symphonies for the organ (Vierne wrote six and Widor wrote ten.) Premiered by the composer during a recital at the Trocadéro on Saturday, 24 August 1878, Widor’s Symphony VI, Op. 42 for organ showcases both the organ and organist and, next to the famous toccata from the fifth symphony, has become one of his more popular organ compositions.

Though Hungarian composer Gyögy Orbán has written nearly one hundred choral works, including nine masses, Passion Music, Christmas Oratorio (both in Hungarian), and many smaller unaccompanied pieces, his music is only recently becoming known in the United States. Born in 1947 in the Romanian province of Transylvania, Orbán immigrated to Hungary in 1979 and is currently Associate Professor of Composition at the Liszt Perenc Academy of Music in Budapest. Orbán’s compositions are grounded in western musical tradition and have been described as neo-romantic. Yet, by employing eastern European influences and intense rhythmic diversity, Orbán’s music creates a unique and exhilarating sound. Agnus Dei, composed in 1995 for two mixed choirs, organ, and trumpet, is an independent work, not part of a larger mass setting. At the outset, two separate SATB choirs respond to each other antiphonally. The trumpet interjects occasional chorale-like phrases and the two choruses eventually merge into one as the main theme is given to the basses. A series of ascending scales leads to the peaceful return of the opening measures, this time presented by both choirs simultaneously.

Mendelssohn’s monumental motet Hora est was written in 1828 when the composer was only nineteen. Preceding Heilig by eighteen years, it is a youthful work of amazing complexity and ingenuity. It was composed for Mendelssohn’s sister Fanny’s birthday and scored for four four-part choirs and organ continuo. Its first performance was given during one of Mendelssohn’s 1829 rehearsals of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion at the Berlin Singakademie. The inspiration for the motet was very likely an identically scored Mass composed in 1783 by Carl Friedrich Christian Fasch, former Director of the Singakademie. The text Mendelssohn chose is from the Catholic Office for Advent and comprises the antiphon Hora est and the responsory Ecce apparebit. The antiphon section summons the faithful from their slumber to behold Christ resplendent in the heavens, while the responsory proclaims that the Lord will appear upon a white cloud with hosts of saints. A dark G-minor tonality for the opening of Hora est is contrasted with the luminous A-major sonority of Ecce apparebit. Deemphasizing the traditional tonic-dominant relationship, Mendelssohn’s major-minor contrast and ascending modulation by step underscore the text’s theme of spiritual awakening and renewal. At the opening of the work, priest-like voices summon the faithful in austere textures that range from unison chant to four-part harmony. Then, in Ecce apparebit, the four choirs enter as independent harmonic entities. Gradually they accumulate and spill over into a piu vivace conclusion in which all sixteen parts combine contrapuntally in a thrilling finish that seems to pay tribute to J. S. Bach.

40-voice motet Spem in Alium by the 16th Century English master Thomas Tallis (1505-1585) has long been an iconic masterwork of the choral repertoire. But its origins remain uncertain. The oldest surviving manuscript of the work is from 1610, a full 35 years after the composer’s death. Even here, the score has been copied out for a special occasion with new English words for the coronation of Henry (son of James I) as Prince of Wales. (His premature death only two years later resulted in another masterpiece of the period, Robert Ramsey’s sublime Sleep, fleshly birth). The original Latin text is found at the bottom of the manuscript. As a result, Spem in Alium’s origins have been ripe for conjecture. Until recently, the prevalent story, as first conjectured by Denis Stevens in 1982^[i] was that Tallis must have been inspired by a 40-voice motet or a recently rediscovered mass by the Italian composer Alessandro Striggio. This would place the composition sometime after Striggio’s visit to London in 1567, and thus during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I.

However, this conjecture is based only on a second hand memoir from 1610, and there is no record that Tallis and Striggio ever met. A 2002 concert series in New York entitled “Mary Triumphant” sought to resurrect the reputation of Queen Mary Tudor (the so-called “Bloody Mary,” daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon, who tried to restore Catholicism during her brief reign, 1553-1558). The notes for a performance of Spem in Alium by the Tallis Scholars as part of this series brought forth strong but still inconclusive evidence that the work was commissioned by a Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, in honor of the 40th birthday of Queen Mary (in 1556, thus perhaps explaining the 40 voices), at which time Mary had also bequeathed to the Howard family the Arundel Palace (also known as Nonsuch). This palace (long since destroyed) was a center for Catholic revivalism and music, and included a famous octagonal room, for which Spem in Alium may have been designed^[ii].

One of the strongest piece of evidence is the original Latin text of the motet itself, which is drawn from the biblical book of Judith and was used as part of the early English celebration of her story. Queen Mary was understood to have closely identified with Judith, a pious widow who saved her homeland from outside invaders and internal traitors.

A roadmap to the music itself:

Spem in Alium begins with the individually staggered entrance of each of the 40 different voices, circling around the room from Choir 1 to Choir 8, over the first 40 bars to the text “I hope in none other that Thee, God of Israel.” In the 40th bar, after all voices have entered and finished their phrase, all 40 voices begin together for the first time, with the text “Praeter in te, Deus Israel” (“have hoped in thee, God of Israel").

After this dramatic “tutti” statement, the voices re-enter in reverse order (from Choir 8 to Choir 1) for the text of penitence “qui iasceris…” (who can show both anger and graciousness), finishing with another resounding “tutti” for the words “et omnia peccata…” (who absolves all the sins of suffering man). It is at this point, if all goes well, that all the choirs stop together for one beat of silence before singing together the words “in tribulatione”.

Then begins the next section of the motet, where instead of adding one voice and one choir at a time, the composer alternates between pairs of choirs, singing antiphonally from the four sides of the room, first for the words “In tribulatione” and then for the titular proclamations of “Domine Deus” (“Lord God”) and “Creator caeli et terrae” (“Creator of heaven and earth”). Then comes (if all goes well!) the second great beat of silence, before all the choirs together intone once the plea for mercy “respice” (“be mindful…”) before completing the text “humilitatem nostrum” (“…of our lowliness”).

Then the third and final silence, this time for two full beats, is followed by the full 40 voice chorus intoning the word “respice” (“be mindful”) and an extended declamation of the full phrase “be mindful of our lowliness” in complex, full counterpoint to the end of the piece.

This work cannot be listened to quite like any other. It is nearly impossible even for trained musicians to pick out individual parts when all 40 parts are going at once. But the way the voices enter one at a time, the way the choirs sing back and forth to each other, and the emphasis given to important words in the text when all voices sing them at the same time – these are elements that the ear can readily grasp. In other words, this is definitely one case where you are encouraged to “let the music wash over you” and not be overwhelmed by the complexity of the counterpoint.

[i] see Denis Stevens, “A songe of fortie partes, made by Mr. Tallys” in Early Music (Volume 10, 1982).
[ii]see George Steel, “The Story of Spem in Alium” in the online classical journal Andante: www.andante.com/article/article.cfm?id=16297