Hallowed be their names...

Felix Mendelssohn has long been honoured for reviving the great name of Bach in the early Romantic era and it's not surprisingly to find him composing works of his own that are imbued with the spirit of that great Baroque master. 

Felix's Six Organ Sonatas, Op.65, for example, are clear homages to the six Organ Sonatas BWV 625-630 of Johann Sebastian. The Organ Sonata No.6 in D minor is a favourite of mine from the set and opens with a Lutheran chorale, Vater unser im Himmelreich. Though the text of the chorale is by Martin Luther (not that we hear it here, of course!) , it appears that the great reformer didn't write the melody himself, merely choosing instead to fit a pre-existing tune around his words:

Vater unser im Himmelreich,

Der du uns alle heissest gleich

Brüder sein, und dich rufen an

Und willt das Beten von uns han:

Gieb dass nicht bei allein der Mund,

Hilf dass es geh von Herzens Grund.

What Mendelssohn does in the first movement of his D minor Sonata is to write a set of chorale variations, just as J.S. used to do. Listen to how he first presents his theme - simply and in D minor. I'll come to some of Bach's harmonisations later, which will allow you to compare the two composers' takes. You will then hear hear just how "simply and in D minor" Mendelssohn harmonises the hymn here. Five variations follow, each presenting the chorale itself with little modification but varying its context. The gentle first variation sets it against flowing figuration and a bass-line notable for its unpredictably long pedal notes, all in a trio sonata manner in keeping with the tradition of Bach. The more forthright and lilting second variation has a highly mobile, very Bach-like bass-line which drives it on. The central variation (another 'trio sonata') has a gorgeous counter-melody. The fourth variations is flamboyant, with toccata-like flourishes swirling around the grandly-presented hymn, and the final variation brings the section to a brilliant conclusion. It is wonderful music. 

One of the most often made criticisms of Felix's music is that it is harmonically unadventurous - timid, conservative, a bit bland. When we come to some of the Bach harmonisations I suspect you might even be tempted to agree, given that some of those sound far more harmonically daring, surprising, shocking even than Mendelssohn's harmonies in this organ sonata. Still, listen to the way the not quite synchronized parts of the first variation create little harmonic surprises and please listen also to the artful and pervasive use of suspensions in the central variation. This may be conservative harmony but it's subtle and satisfying conservative harmony. 

The next section of Mendelssohn's Organ Sonata No.6 is a fugue. "How very Bachian of him!", you might say. Its theme is also derived from Vater unser im Himmelreich. What do you make of this fugue? Is it as exciting, as vital as a Bach fugue? 

What follows, however, is very different and carries us very much into the composer's own time, being a Romantic song-without-words. The D minor mood lifts and we can relax in the comfort of a particularly warm-sounding D major. Vater unser im Himmelreich is quietly put aside.

I've read that this finale is instead based on the old English hymn, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross (which was my grandmother' favourite hymn, incidentally). I can hear similarities, especially in its second phrase but I remain a bit sceptical about the connection though. For some tastes, this closing section might seem too sweet, too sentimental or perhaps the sort of thing the late Charles Rosen meant when he described Mendelssohn (in The Romantic Generation) as "the inventor of religious kitsch in music", sensuously evoking the atmosphere of a church service. I don't mind a bit of religious kitsch, especially if it sounds as lovely as this movement. 

Are you sitting comfortably? Now please take a listen to Leit uns mit deiner rechten Hand, the closing chorale of J.S.Bach's Cantata BWV 90.  Please listen out in particular for the harmony on the syllable highlighted in red below:

Leit uns mit deiner rechten Hand
Und segne unser Stadt und Land;
Gib uns allzeit dein heilges Wort,

Behüt für's Teufels List und Mord;

Verleih ein selges Stündelein,

Auf dass wir ewig bei dir sein!

Now even though I prepared you for it a bit in advance, that was still quite a harmonic shock, wasn't it? It certainly isn't the sort of thing Felix would have done. Ever. 

Those words above come from a text written by Martin Moller several decades after Martin Luther: Nimm von uns, Herr, du treuer Gott. The words may be different but the melody is exactly the same. The chorale melody of Vater unser im Himmelreich was fitted around several later Lutheran texts written by writers other than Luther himself, not just Moller's. Bach's Cantata BWV 101, Nimm von uns, Herr, du treuer Gott, uses these alternative words  and that same tune. Moller's words are, however, far grimmer - "Take from us, you faithful God,/the heavy punishment and great distress,/which for our countless sins we/deserve to have all too often./Protect us from war and costly times/from plague, fire and great misfortune." 

If you were taken aback by that harmony on "lein" from BVW 90, then just wait until you hear the opening chorus of Cantata BWV 101. I will freely admit that when I first heard the Harnoncourt performance linked to in the preceding paragraph, I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing, thinking that it was one of those rough early "authentic performances" where out-of-tune playing abounded, albeit to an extraordinary degree. It is, of course, no such thing. The "out-of-tune" harmonies in this great and glorious movement are entirely Bach's doing. He was so out of this time in the adventurousness of his harmonies - and surely there can be few works where he was so out of his time and adventurous. Gesualdo and Schoenberg might have gasped at some of the dissonances - and the sheer intensity of dissonance - in several passages (especially those where the chorus enter.) The world of the final movement of Mendelssohn's organ sonata couldn't feel further away. The piled-up dissonances join up with a little, wriggling worm-of-sin type of figure to convey the unpleasant things mentioned in Moller's text. The chorale melody Vater unser im Himmelreich shines through this dark, agonised (yet very enjoyable) fugue. 

The second movement of Cantata 101, the tenor aria Handle nicht nach deinen Rechten - a movement with obbligato violin (or flute) -  uses lots of word-painting, leaping up on Höchster ("highest") and falling) and descending on vergehen ("passing away") for example, but it doesn't use the chorale melody. In that it's the exception, as every one of the other remaining movements does. The two recitatives (No.3 and No.5) ingeniously use the chorale rather as a priest quotes from the Bible as he delivers his sermon - dry recitative punctuating by the chorale phrases. The bass aria Warum will du so zornig sein? (No.4), with its delightful woodwind writing (a movement I prefer to the tenor aria), also uses this "quotation" idea, with the bass quoting the opening line of the chorale and the oboes playing the chorale in the central passage. The beautiful soprano-alto duet Gedenk an Jesu bittern Tod! (No.6), a movement in the old pastoral form of the sicilienne (in 12/8 time), interweaves the the chorale melody with a lovely, expressive melody, exchanging the themes between a solo flute and a solo oboe de caccia.  The cantata ends with a simple chorale harmonisation which offers none of the shocks on its opening movement - or its equivalent in Cantata 90. It ends, you will doubtless notice, on a Picardy third. 

This cantata, suggestively, was among the very first that Mendelssohn got published, thus beginning the great re-awakening of interest in the Bach cantatas (an interest that took a long time to build thereafter). 

Going back to the organ, finally, and to Bach's own organ works based on Vater unser im Himmelreich, there are four chorale preludes to bring you yet more delight. BWV 737, uncollected, is the dourest of the four - and the most old-fashioned, recalling the organ works of the preceding generation of German organ composers. BWV 636, from the Orgelbüchlein, is short, gentle and rather Mendelssohnian! Its harmonisation, however, admits modal elements and has many a passing dissonance. It's a lovely piece. BWV 682, from the Clavier-Übung, Part 3, is on an altogether larger scale piece and even better -  a beautiful heart-easing piece, full of canons, chromatic touches and rhythmic kicks, with an independent-minded bass line. It is one of the great Bach organ pieces. BWV 683, from the Clavier-Übung, Part 3, is much smaller in scale but scarcely less captivating. The 'soprano' sings the chorale in full while scale-based figuration flickers beneath it. Gorgeous!

Hallowed be the name of Bach...and hallowed be the name of Mendelssohn. Amen.

Making Overtures

What this blog obviously needs is a chart countdown. It's been all the rage at Classic FM for years, and BBC Radio 3 has leaped on the bandwagon too now, so...

...here's my countdown of the best (stand-alone) overtures by Mendelssohn. There are seven contenders, and the countdown will follow tradition and work its way from lowest (worst) to highest (best). Exciting, eh?

7. Overture in C for Wind Instruments, Op.24

Written when Felix was around 15 years old, this is his earliest overture and so it's probably not surprising that it lies in bottom place in this survey. It lacks the stamp of Mendelssohn's own personality, borrowing the personality of Mozart (in the slow introduction) and Weber (in the fast main section) instead. That's how young, learning composers develop of course, so Felix isn't to be blamed for writing in their style. It's far from being a dud though. There's a softly-lit slow section to begin with, whose main melody is pleasing and whose warmth of wind sonority brings a nice glow to this listener's stomach. The fast section (in sonata form) isn't quite so enjoyable, though the perky, colourfully-scored second subject is charming.

6. Trumpet Overture in C, Op.101

Written just before the Midsummer Night's Dream overture, this is better than its predecessor. It has a lot going for it, including bags of energy and some imaginative touches of scoring. What it lacks is memorable tunes. The work is unified by the fanfare-like figures first heard at the very beginning of the overture, and the best bits of the overture come with the use of the these figures at the start of the development section (2.42 onwards) and again towards its close (4.56 onwards), where something of the mystery and magic of the Hebrides Overture is glimpsed. The shimmering strings and the modulating harmonies suggest a sea-scape to me - and Felix is at his best when evoking the sea.

5. Ruy Blas, Op.95

A portentous opening on brass presages a few melodramatic passages in this famous overture, evoking a play by Victor Hugo (for which Felix felt no high regard). The vigorous main theme is memorable and fully characteristic of its composer and the more lyrical second subject (introduced over pizzicato strings) is likable, though its sprightly companion is even more engaging. So, as you can see, lots of good tunes this time. The themes are developed with considerable purpose if with no moments of special magic. Because of its lack of such moments, I place this overture in such a low position.

4. The Fair Melusina (Die schöne Melusine), op.32

Ah yes, those opening rippling figures from the clarinets, aren't they lovely? And, if you know your Wagner, they will inevitably remind you of the prelude to Das Rheingold (though Wagner makes something far more extraordinary and majestic of them than our Felix) where they serve a similarly watery purpose. Here they conjure up the beauty of the mermaid-like Melusina. The dotted rhythms in her theme, however, give her something of a domestic quality. A proud, dramatic theme in the minor erupts representing Melusina's soon-to-be husband, the knight Lusignan. The violins follow this with a more lyrical theme (surely a love theme) which is the work's best tune. The development of these themes runs through the expected paths, and the development of the main (Melusina) theme could (I'd have hoped) modulated with a good deal more magic than it does. The predictability of the development section (despite the pleasing way Mendelssohn takes us into the recapitulation) results in the overture being marked down into fourth place.

3. Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage (Meerestille und glückliche Fahrt), Op.27

Goethe's twin poems are set to a two-part overture, the slow section depicting the calm sea - a merchant ship becalmed, so not a good thing in those days! - and the fast section depicting the ship speeding towards its destination. The 'Calm Sea' section is music of extraordinary visionary beauty and results in the overture's high ranking. The stillness and solitariness it evokes are tangible and can be compared to Beethoven's own setting of the poems. The wind-led transition to the breezy allegro is imaginative too. The 'Prosperous Voyage' section is nowhere near as magical as 'Calm Sea', but it's enjoyable enough, with some good themes and some attractive textures. Its weak point is its largely dull development section.

2. A Midsummer Night's Dream, Op.21

This is a close runner-up to my winning overture, as it and the winning overture are two of the composer's greatest and most-loved achievements. Purely personal preference places this in second place, as it's a work whose spell never fails (in a decent performance) to lift my spirits. Its structural proportions are perfect, its themes unforgettable and its scoring immaculate, beginning with four magical wind chords (destined to return at the very end). The fairy music on violins, with occasional pizzicato accompaniment from the violas, is ingenious and magical. Then there's the bold tune for the Athenian royals, which is followed (after a fine transition passage) by a lyrical theme for the lovers, begun by the woodwinds and continued by the strings. Next it's the rude mechanicals, and Bottom braying like an ass. So many fine ideas. The poetic development section concentrates on the fairy theme and takes us deep into magical strangeness, with all manner of unexpected noises. Its wistful close is a final surprise. The recapitulation is straightforward, which just leaves the very beautiful coda. Ah, what a work from such a young man, just 16 years old when he wrote it.

1. The Hebrides (Fingal's Cave), Op.26

It had to be. This is my favourite piece by Mendelssohn, never mind just the overtures. Its poetry surpasses even the Midsummer Night's Dream overture. Again, it's sea music that brings out the finest magic from Felix. The scoring is of such a luminous beauty that, to borrow a phrase Debussy used about Wagner's Parsifal, it seems lit from behind. It's quite remarkable how much mileage the composer gets out of the little six-note melodic motif you hear at the very beginning. It is the essence of his main theme and often accompanies his other themes. The figure inescapably prompts images in the mind of the swell of the sea. The broad and beautiful second subject, begun by cellos, sings out against a lovely shimmer from the high strings, before passing to those very strings. It's heavenly stuff, but there's even more heavenly music to come. The development section is an absolute stunner. The main theme - i.e. that six-note figure - is send through all manner of keys against fanfare-like figures and more shimmering from the strings. The magic, mystery and majesty of the scene are indescribably moving. And then there's the most magical key change of all (at 5.16), as the music slows and the heart is flooded with warmth. A shadow of anxiety then seems to pass over, mingled with awe, and the development section then picks up speed and dances its way to an exciting climax and the wonderful re-entry of the main theme for the recapitulation. This time the recapitulation is not straightforward but rather a re-imagined take on the exposition. The coda is short and brilliant, with a final delightful surprise to finish. What a piece of music!

Beyond the Canon

Johann Pachelbel (1653-1709) has long been seen as a one-hit wonder, with his Canon becoming one of the best-known works of Baroque music. Things appear to be changing with recordings of his other works growing apace, including his choral pieces. 

One such work particularly caught my attention a couple of years ago and could easily see Pachelbel becoming, at the very least, a two-hit wonder. It's his enjoyable setting of Psalm 100, Jauchzet dem Herrn (Make a joyful noise unto the Lord). The scoring is for double chorus (two each of soprano, alto, tenor and bass) and organ. The two choruses are sometimes used antiphonally to achieve the effect of splendour, as composers had been doing since the days of the Gabrielis, a century earlier. The very opening bars show Pachelbel sitting on the pivot, so to speak, between the age of the greatest master of the German early Baroque, Heinrich Schütz, and the greatest master of the German late Baroque, J.S. Bach - albeit, in the work as a whole, dangling his legs more often on Bach's side of the pivot!

At the very start, the altos, tenors and basses of Choir I sing the word 'Jauchzet' in a strictly rhythmic and syllabic pattern (four quavers followed by two crochets), which is very catchy, whilst the sopranos sing a joyful melisma on the first syllable of their second 'jauchzet'. The second choir joins them all in the second bar, adding a greater weight to this delightful expression of joy. When I first heard this I thought it sounded like Bach, and had to rack my poor brains to try and remember which particular piece I had in mind. It's his glorious motet Der Geist hilft unser Schwachheit, BWV226 (The Spirit helps us in our weakness), also for double chorus, specifically its opening bars. Back to the Pachelbel and if the first two bars look forward to Bach then the third and fourth bars, which end with the words "alle Welt" (all the earth), look back to the age of Schütz, with its antiphonal exchanges of short homophonic phrases. Schütz made his own setting of Jauchzet dem Herrn, and you can hear something of its soundworld (what can be called, using a broad brush-stroke, 'Monteverdi madrigals and polychoral Gabrieli meet a German sensibility') in Pachelbel's setting of the words "Erkennet, daß der Herre Gott ist" (Recognize that the Lord is God), 2.05 into the link provided. 

The German mid-Baroque is a fascinating period of music, full of little known but highly talented composers whose style is only a hybrid when heard through ears that are far more familiar with the distinctive styles of a great composer of one age, and quite familiar with the no-less-distinctive style of a great composer of another age (though many listeners might think of Monteverdi and Gabrieli without thinking of their great German contemporary, Schütz). Bach was taught by his brother, a pupil of Pachelbel (a close family friend of the older generations of Bachs), so something of Pachelbel's music certainly must have filtered through to Johann Sebastian. Wonder if he knew Jauchzet dem Herrn?

Incidentally, and going back to Mendelssohn, our Felix also made settings, a century and a half after Pachelbel and two centuries after Schütz, of the same psalm. There's his a cappella Wo028 setting, a simple piece, and the richer, more polyphonic setting that forms the central motet of his Op.69. Both project the spirit of old German chorales in some of their melodies and textures. They are not Mendelssohn's most distinguished choral pieces, but they are quite attractive and characteristic.

As I've linked to a lot of Jauchzet dem Herrns, it would perhaps be no bad thing for me to provide the text of the psalm:

Jauchzet dem Herrn

alle Welt.

Dienet dem Herrn mit Freuden.

Kommt vor sein Angesicht mit Frohlocken.

Erkennet, dass der Herre Gott ist.

Er hat uns gemacht, und nicht wir selbst,

zu seinem Volk

und zu Schafen seiner Weide.

Gehet zu seinen Toren ein mit Danken,

zu seinen Vorhöfen mit Loben.

Danket ihm, lobet seinen Namen,

denn der Herr ist freundlich

und seine Gnade währet ewig

und seine Wahrheit für und für.

Make a joyful noise to the Lord,

all the earth;

serve the Lord with joy.

Come before his visage with rejoicing.

Recognize that the Lord is God:

he made us—and not we ourselves—

to be his people

and to be sheep for his pasture.

Enter through his gates with thanks,

into his courts with praise.

Give him thanks and praise his name,

for the Lord is kind,

and his mercy endures forever,

and his truth for all time.

Rejoice!

Mendelssohn: In Mourning

Felix Mendelssohn's six string quartets are a fascinating set of pieces and I hope to explore each of them at some stage, but I want to start at the very end with his final quartet, the String Quartet No.6 in F minor, Op.80, because I think this fine, passionate work shows a number of things, namely (a) that Felix was a great writer of string quartets, (b) there was no falling-off in quality towards the end of his short life and (c) that Mendelssohn is far from being a lightweight. I also want to start with it because I love it. 

The work has a dark intensity that is certainly unusual in Mendelssohn's output. It was written while the composer was grieving for his sister, Fanny, who died in 1847. Felix was himself to die later the same year. Being the man he was, however, he channelled this grief through the finest workmanship. 

The shuddering tremolos that open the quartet turn the figuration of the first movement's main theme - figuration that will probably remind the listener of the composer's 'fairy scherzos' - into something foreboding, into which the first violin throws a dotted phrase (imitated by the other players) which strikes like a stab to the heart. This piercing phrase is then transformed into a poignant melody, then into a dancing figure. A passionate new theme is introduced which whirls the movement on to the tender second subject, which sings its lyrical phrases over a pulsing accompaniment. The exposition generates another poignant melody as it ends, sunk in grief. This exposition lasts only a little over two minutes but is a superb, eventful span of music.  The development section is just as gripping, revisiting all the material of the main subject group and heightening the drama whilst working the themes through various keys. It builds to a powerful climax that cries out in pain as the recapitulation steals back in ingeniously. The recapitulation contains new melodic offshoots of the main themes as counter-subjects and there is a glorious Schubert-like passage just before the return of the second subject and its companions. The coda is subjected to a fresh onslaught from the stormy material and brings the movement to a fiery close. This is wonderful string quartet writing and deserves to be considered one of the finest movements of Romantic chamber music.

As does the Scherzo. There's no slackening of intensity - or mastery - in this movement either. The main theme is agitated, with syncopations and straining modulations. Grim unison writing adds to the main section's sinister effect. When the theme returns, listen out for the furiously difficult figuration that now accompanies it. There's no light relief afforded by the Trio section either, which is a spectral dance with a sinister bass and a tune that always sounds to me like a melancholy cousin to 'Girls and Boys Come Out to Play'.

The Adagio is a deeply felt piece that prompts the melancholy thought that poor Felix's grief gave us one of his greatest, saddest, most satisfying slow movements. The composer's instinctive lyricism is released and the violin's opening phrase, with its opening sigh across a minor sixth, is unforgettable. Consolatory phrases are tempered by throbs of painful feeling and aching dissonances and the movement's climax is another cry of anguish. 

No easy consolation is offered by the Finale either. That inevitable companion of grief, anger, is present and the movement seems almost to shake with rage at times. The second subject's lyrical dialogue is but a brief respite. The development section initially screws up the tension even tighter but the quivering transition to the recapitulation hints at the possibility of resignation. The fierily-counterpointed recapitulation shows that it's not time yet for resignation though and the quartet storms to its end. 

Unquestionably a masterpiece, this quartet should be one of the best-known works of 19th Century chamber writing. That it isn't is little short of a scandal. Someone should resign over this! If you don't know it, please give it some of your time.