Friday 19 April 2019

Semi-Biblical Heroics

Recently I pulled out Handel's Dettingen Te Deum for a revisit (see previous post).  This experience in turn inspired me to dig up a long-time favourite among Handel's oratorios after a long absence.  

The oratorio genre predates Handel, but it was his genius that raised it to the pre-eminent art form which it remained for well-nigh two centuries after his death.  It can fairly be said that the oratorio form as we know it today was invented by Handel, or at least evolved by him.  It met a pressing need in the life of this first great composer-impresario.  Unlike the vast majority of court or church musicians who filled Europe in his day, Handel composed largely to sell tickets and make money from the public.  When the Church of England hierarchy forbade performances at the opera during Lent, Handel responded by creating a sacred musical drama which required no staging, and which could be sung, played, and enjoyed without any fear of officious religious authorities and their puritanical scruples.

Several key differences separate the oratorios from the operas in Handel's output.  The operas were sung in Italian, the oratorios in English.  The operas tend more towards the florid and ornamental, while the oratorios (although they certainly have their virtuoso pages) included a higher percentage of solemn, dignified, and prayerful music.  The operas were dominated by the solo voices, while the oratorios have (in varying degrees) much more choral contribution.

As soon as Handel's oratorios are mentioned, Messiah springs immediately to mind, but it is not really representative of the genre, to put it mildly.  Masterpiece though it undoubtedly is, Messiah is a musical meditation on the events of the Christmas and Easter story rather than a dramatic depiction of those events.  Messiah is also atypical in using actual texts selected from the Bible, a characteristic it shares only with Israel in Egypt.  

The oratorio Samson, which is my subject today, is a more typical member of the Handelian oratorio family.  The text was provided by Newburgh Hamilton, who adapted it loosely from Milton's dramatic poem, Samson Agonistes and At a Solemn Musick.  This libretto is written in metric verse far better adapted to singing than the epic language of Milton's works.  This oratorio includes named roles for a number of characters, and the chorus alternately presents the viewpoint of the Israelites or the Philistines, and (in one case) both in the same movement, with the choir divided into antiphonal groups.  The libretto takes us through multiple dramatic scenes depicting the events of Samson's final days.  Samson has actually been staged as if it were an opera, which becomes a back-handed compliment to the skill with which Handel translated the operatic form to the concert hall.

It's important to mention that Samson is one of the most richly-orchestrated of Handel's oratorios.  The ensemble includes the expected strings, continuo, oboes, and bassoons (which Handel used to double the soprano and bass lines of his choruses) but also features trumpets, drums, flutes, and horns.

The score also deploys many styles of music with great acumen.  You need only contrast the sober, even solemn choruses of the Israelites with the downright jolly music for the chorus of Philistines to see just how wide Handel's dramatic range became in this composition.  Or, in the role of Samson, compare the dark chromatic tones of Total Eclipse to the bluff and hearty swagger of Go, Baffled Coward, Go.

The distribution of solo voices appears a bit odd to us today, used as we are to the standard vocal quartet of one of each voice type. It's also odd by Handel's standards, working as he was in an era when both castrati and counter-tenors were common; this oratorio was performed by Handel using no counter-tenor or castrato voices at all.

Samson himself is sung by a tenor, an interesting choice when the hero roles in many of Handel's operas were taken by counter-tenor voices. Dalila is a soprano role, but not overly high, and the part has in fact been sung by mezzo-sopranos (Janet Baker for one). Another soprano sings the role of the Virgin who attends her. Micah, a key figure among the Israelites, is an alto. Manoa, the father of Samson, is a bass. The Philistine giant Harapha is also a bass role. Lesser roles include tenor parts for a Philistine man and an "Israelitish man." And right at the end of the work, there is that florid soprano solo for an "Israelitish woman." That odd description, "Israelitish," has always given me a chuckle.

Part of Handel's skill in composing Samson is demonstrated by his development of larger unified sections out of the typical short, independent numbers of the oratorio form.  The score in fact opens with two of these blocks: a multi-movement overture for the orchestra, followed by a celebratory chorus of the Philistines.  After an interspersed aria, the chorus is repeated.  Other large blocks occur in the scene between Samson and Dalila (yes, her name is spelt like that, and always pronounced with the emphasis on the first syllable) and in the festival of the Philistines which rounds out Act 2.  The last major block comes with the funeral rites for Samson at the end.  In each of these cases, a single movement is repeated several times, with contrasting sections or movements interspersed.  In this way, Handel creates solid anchor points for the entire larger structure.

The Dalila scene makes repeated use of a musical number, My Faith and Truth, O Samson, Prove, which is sung first by Dalila.  It is then repeated immediately by another soprano identified as "A Virgin" -- with the sole change that the opening line becomes Her Faith and Truth.  This solo then flows into an extended duet for Dalila and the Virgin.  The original version is then repeated yet again by a Chorus of Virgins.  Dalila next sings a delightful aria, To Fleeting Pleasures Make Your Court, marked by a repeated "Scotch-snap" rhythm in the melodic line which then morphs into rapid triplets.  The women's choir sings Her Faith and Truth which Dalila follows with another Scotch-snap aria, musically identical to her first, but to the words How Charming is Domestic Ease.  The Chorus of Virgins then sings a fifth repetition of Her Faith and Truth -- and now you know why many performances indulge in a substantial amount of cutting in this scene!

In the Philistine celebration, the text provides the repeat.  A Philistine Man (tenor) sings a light-hearted, dancing aria in triple time, To Song and Dance We Give the Day.  This aria is very typical of the music for the Philistines throughout the work -- playful, jovial, and great fun to hear.  The text is then repeated by the full choir to completely different music, over a triadic ostinato bass with horns very much to the fore in the orchestra.  The music then continues into a spectacular antiphonal double-chorus number with trumpets and drums, using this cleverly, carefully arranged text:

Israelites:  Jehovah...                              

                               Philistines: Great Dagon...

 Israelites:  Jehovah rules...                              

                              Philistines:  Great Dagon rules...

Together:  The world in state.

And later:

Israelites:  Jehovah...                              

                              Philistines:  Great Dagon...

Israelites:  Jehovah is...                              

                               Philistines:  Great Dagon is...

Together:  of gods the first and last.

If the Dalila scene suggests that Handel's inspiration might have been going off the boil, this magnificent conclusion to Act 2 shows that no such thing was true.

One of the few really famous excerpts of Samson which is still regularly heard is the aria, Total Eclipse, sung by Samson himself in the first act.  He is, of course, lamenting his blindness.  This slow, anguished tenor aria has formed the dramatic centrepiece of many a song recital.

More powerful, and more energetic too, are the several arias during the confrontation scene between Samson and Harapha.  The culminating number here is a duet, where the two singers match quite different texts to the same musical lines in rapidly alternating phrases.

Even more dramatic is the depiction of the story's violent denouement.  It happens offstage, followed by a messenger's speech narrating the event.  Handel presents the collapse of the temple musically by having a recitative sung by Manoa interrupted by a vigorous Symphony of Horror and Confusion.  After another brief dialogue in recitative, the "symphony" is repeated, more fully scored, to accompany a chorus of the Philistines crying out for help.  The choral singing ends in an unexpected harmonic position with the words We sink, we die -- and the orchestra is left alone to bring the music quietly to a close with a subdued cadence.

The music then proceeds through the funeral rites of Samson, with the most beautiful musical ideas of the entire score to accompany the laments and accolades of the dead hero.  A magnificent Dead March for the orchestra punctuates this scene.  But Handel's last and greatest inspiration comes with the triumphant, resplendent, trumpets-and-drums conclusion of the oratorio: the brilliant soprano aria, Let the Bright Seraphim which flows directly onwards into the blazing final chorus Let Their Celestial Concerts All Unite.  

Perhaps the biggest weakness of Samson for modern audiences is the text, which includes numerous digs and downright insults aimed at women in general, sung in the context of the Dalila scene.  These derive directly from Milton's dramatic poem -- as does that interesting spelling of Dalila's name.  Since these offensive texts mostly occur in the recitative passages, no great violence is done to the music if one simply fast-forwards through those sections -- or, for that matter, through the seemingly endless repetitions of Her Faith and Truth.

Aside from these difficulties, Samson does contain many, many pages of Handel's finest music for choral and solo voices, and makes for very rewarding listening.  I've been in love with this work ever since I had the privilege of singing it as a young man, and I've certainly enjoyed this return visit!

Wednesday 10 April 2019

A Blazing Victory Celebration

Beethoven was a composer with a deservedly massive ego, but he could be more humble when faced with what he considered to be true genius.  Hence, this comment which he made about the music of George Frederick Handel:

"Handel is the unequalled master of all masters.  Go to him, and learn how to create the grandest of effects by the simplest of means."

Few works by Handel illustrate the truth of this statement as gloriously as the majestic, magnificent Dettingen Te Deum.  Composed in 1743 for a service of thanksgiving after a great military victory at Dettingen, this cantata for solo voices, choir, and orchestra does indeed employ the simplest of means to create the grandest of effects.  

When I first heard a recording of this vivid work, the opening pages stood my hair on end.  No other composer in history could mine this vein of celebratory music for public ceremonials so richly as Handel did in this work.

Handel's text is the ancient hymn Te Deum Laudamus ("We Praise Thee, O God"), sung in the English version of the Church of England's prayer book.  The choice of text was, of course, dictated by the occasion for which this piece was composed.

The work is scored for the unusual combination of 3 trumpets (two high and one low), with the standard Baroque orchestra of oboes, bassoons, strings, timpani, and continuo.  A mixed chorus and four soloists are also required.  The solo voices are an alto, a tenor, and high and low bass voices.  Since the solo parts are relatively limited and the chorus does most of the work, it's perfectly feasible to have the solo voices drawn from the chorus.

Since this glorious music was composed in thanksgiving for a military victory, the work opens with martial rhythms played by the low trumpet and bassoons, and beaten out on the timpani, followed by the vivacious opening melody on oboes.  When the timpani return, they are joined first by high trumpet fanfares, and then by the chorus, singing the opening line of the hymn in slow, majestic chords.  Throughout the first movement, quieter sections for strings and voices only alternate like echoes with the resplendent sounds of full chorus with trumpets and drums.

The overall plan of the entire piece continues as it begins, with alternating sections for varying forces.  The grander movements using the trumpets are all set in D major, a requirement of music using the valveless trumpets of the Baroque era.  One of the most awe-inspiring movements comes at the setting of the words To Thee cherubim and seraphim continually do cry.  The trumpets and drums carry the principal melodic sense and structure of the music while the several parts of the choir sing a fast-moving phrase to the words continually do cry for a total of no less than 80 rapid repetitions.

Quieter, more prayerful movements are set for smaller forces (a solo here, a men-only chorus there) with lighter accompaniment such as strings only, or oboe and continuo, and in one memorable moment the orchestra falls silent (very unusual for Handel).  A single trumpet plays a slow fanfare with an obvious family resemblance to the fanfares of The trumpet shall sound in Messiah (which was composed 2 years earlier).  Then the unaccompanied choral voices sing:

We believe that Thou shalt come to be our Judge,
We therefore pray Thee help thy servants 
Whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy precious blood.

When Handel reaches the final verse, he brings the trumpets and drums forward again but eschews a grandiose final gesture in favour of a more flowing, almost prayerful choral movement to the words In Thee, O Lord, have I trusted; let me never be confounded.  Only in the final sustained choral phrase does an underscoring of beating drums recall the militant aspect of the opening.

For the official celebrations of the Dettingen victory, Handel also composed an anthem for similar forces.  Lasting only 15 minutes (versus the nearly 45 minutes of the Te Deum), the Dettingen Anthem shares the ceremonial air of its larger companion, but features a more virtuosic style of writing for both voices and instruments.  Florid violin parts strike a very different note from the frequent chordal writing of the Te Deum.  The text is drawn from Psalms 20 and 21, and opens with a verse also used in the first of Handel's great Coronation Anthems of 1727:  The King shall rejoice in thy strength, O Lord.  Three more sections follow before the anthem concludes with a rapid fugal allegro setting of Alleluia, which couldn't be more different from its distant but famous cousin at the end of Part 2 of Messiah.

Anyone who loves Messiah and wants to explore Handel's great gifts with grand vocal writing should definitely give the Dettingen Te Deum and Dettingen Anthem a closer acquaintance!