Thomas Tallis, you magnificent bastard. This piece is actually a canon, called a “six in two.” This means it uses six voices to produce a double canon. This means that the top two voices are playing off each other while the bottom voices are doing their own thing. You can track in the score how the second soprano follows the first soprano’s lead. It’s one of my favorite Tallis pieces – which is saying something, since I carry a serious torch for the guy. I love how it slowly builds to the two-minute mark, plus the interplay of the soprano lines between 2:46 and 2:56. But the most ingenious part of the piece is how it ends on a question, by which I mean the chord doesn’t resolve back to the tonic (or starting chord of the piece); it ends on the fifth. Miserere nostri – Have mercy on us, Lord. It’s a request. That the piece ends without resolution leaves space for that request to be answered. It just brings tears to my eyes every time.
introspective
Salubrious Saturday: “Old Friend,” Alexander
StandardThis song feels like an appropriate one with which to conclude Ukraine Week on The Daily Tune-Up. We will return to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow, but please keep an eye trained on Ukraine. Equally important: if you are fortunate enough to live in a country where you have freedoms of speech and assembly, exercise that right every day. Vote. Organize. Protest. Speak out. Educate yourself. Be an active citizen. We insult those who don’t have these rights when we take them for granted.
—
Mr. Magoo, he took off with Betty,
And I’m on the porch carrying wood.
My heart is confetti.
I’m having a party,
I’m feeling good.
You say you’re comin’ to crush my skull,
To bash in my face, and shatter my frown,
To mingle my blood in with the ground,
All this as the sun was setting down.
Old friend, trying to hunt me down again
Old friend this is your exit, you’re no, no no friend
Who is this man, who’s afraid of death?
Who fears it so that death’s all he brings?
I s’pose he wage war till nothing is left,
With a mouth full of teeth and nothing to sing.
Well he put his hands around my neck,
And I s’pose I let him from natural respect.
As he frothed at the mouth, I twinkled my eye,
And gave him this vision just before I died.
He saw his lines drawn in the sand,
Upon a land of beauty and wind,
And he in the distance dragging a flag pole
Across a desert that never will end.
Old friend, trying to hunt me down again
Old friend this is your exit, you’re no no no friend
Throwback Thursday: “Do Not Cast Me Off,” Maksym Berezovsky
StandardMaksym Berezovky (1745 –1777) was a major Ukrainian composer active around the time of Mozart (1756-1791), and one of the first Ukrainian composers to be recognized throughout Europe. This piece is an a capella choral concerto set to the words of Psalm 71. There is so much going on in this piece – not least of which are the tempo changes throughout that increase the urgency of the words being sung. What gets me even more than that are the moments when the entire comes together in one voice like at 1:05. It really makes you sit up and take notice.
Diplomatic talks in Paris stalled in the face of Western demands Russia pull back its forces, and the Russian foreign minister’s refusal to recognize his Ukrainian counterpart. And, in an interesting demonstration of how divided Ukraine is, thousands of pro-Russia and pro-Ukrainian activists tussled over whose flag would fly atop the administrative headquarters of Donetsk.
Map of the location of Ukraine’s forces from IISS, as of 5 March
—
1 In you, Lord, I have taken refuge;
let me never be put to shame.
2 In your righteousness, rescue me and deliver me;
turn your ear to me and save me.
3 Be my rock of refuge,
to which I can always go;
give the command to save me,
for you are my rock and my fortress.
4 Deliver me, my God, from the hand of the wicked,
from the grasp of those who are evil and cruel.
5 For you have been my hope, Sovereign Lord,
my confidence since my youth.
6 From birth I have relied on you;
you brought me forth from my mother’s womb.
I will ever praise you.
7 I have become a sign to many;
you are my strong refuge.
8 My mouth is filled with your praise,
declaring your splendor all day long.
9 Do not cast me away when I am old;
do not forsake me when my strength is gone.
10 For my enemies speak against me;
those who wait to kill me conspire together.
11 They say, “God has forsaken him;
pursue him and seize him,
for no one will rescue him.”
12 Do not be far from me, my God;
come quickly, God, to help me.
13 May my accusers perish in shame;
may those who want to harm me
be covered with scorn and disgrace.
14 As for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise you more and more.
15 My mouth will tell of your righteous deeds,
of your saving acts all day long—
though I know not how to relate them all.
16 I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, Sovereign Lord;
I will proclaim your righteous deeds, yours alone.
17 Since my youth, God, you have taught me,
and to this day I declare your marvelous deeds.
18 Even when I am old and gray,
do not forsake me, my God,
till I declare your power to the next generation,
your mighty acts to all who are to come.
19 Your righteousness, God, reaches to the heavens,
you who have done great things.
Who is like you, God?
20 Though you have made me see troubles,
many and bitter,
you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth
you will again bring me up.
21 You will increase my honor
and comfort me once more.
22 I will praise you with the harp
for your faithfulness, my God;
I will sing praise to you with the lyre,
Holy One of Israel.
23 My lips will shout for joy
when I sing praise to you—
I whom you have delivered.
24 My tongue will tell of your righteous acts
all day long,
for those who wanted to harm me
have been put to shame and confusion.
Throwback Thursday: “Abendlied,” Josef Rheinberger
StandardHumans are social animals. We wither on the vine without interaction or companionship. And yet, what wounds us more deeply than these same things, without which life is awful? It’s a terrible truism, but a truism nonetheless, and one that I’ve been turning in my mind these past few days, for a variety of reasons. It puts me in mind of a wonderful passage from C.S. Lewis:
“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”
What nourishes will always wound; humans are imperfect. What we need we will always ultimately lose; humans are mortal. It is a far lovelier truism that the nourishment outlasts the wound, and that our mortality does not drain the memories and impressions we gave to others. Let us bide with each other, then, while we are here. Let us be vulnerable.
—
“Bleib bei uns, denn es will Abend werden, und der Tag hat sich geneiget.
Bide with us, for evening shadows darken, and the day will soon be over.”
In memory of Nancy Harris Smith.
Salubrious Saturday: “Unexplainable Stories,” Cloud Cult
StandardCloud Cult is a fantastic band from Minnesota (doncha know). This song has a pretty different vibe than some of their other work – this one is much more down-tempo and a little more synthesizer-y. But I still love the message of the song (“Activate your force fields and just keep going”), and the long brass intro is absolutely gorgeous. This is a good, calm song for a quiet Saturday after a long, long week. I hope you enjoy.
Sacred Sunday: “Officum Defunctorum & Missa Pro Defunctis,” Cristobal de Morales
StandardSome Tune-Up fans might think it a bit of a cop-out to post an entire body of work instead of a song – since this blog is devoted to providing you with the “song of the day” – but I just was incapable of pulling this piece apart. It needs to be heard in its entirety; it’s just that gorgeous. Those of you who are up on your Latin will know that these two bodies of work are funereal – “Officum Defunctorum” means the office of the dead (a cycle of prayers), and “Missa Pro Defunctis” is the mass for the dead. Without knowing the titles and therefore purposes of these pieces, I wouldn’t have guessed they had anything to do with funerals, and that is one of the reasons I love them. The harmonies are the other reason. They are simple, accessible, and exquisite.
Cristobal de Morales is rightly considered one of the giants of the Spanish Renaissance, and really one of the great composers of the Renaissance in general. He was born in Seville, Spain, around 1500 and died in 1553. I cannot possibly overstate the importance of buying the Jordi Savall recording, if you’re inclined to get a copy of this for yourself. It is superlative.
Throwback Thursday: “Symphony No. 5 in D, 3rd movement,” Ralph Vaughan Williams
StandardIf you hear movie soundtracks in this piece (or a bit of Downton Abbey), you’re not hearing things. Vaughan Williams was such a master at capturing undefinable moodiness that he inspired a whole generation of movie and TV score composers. I had once wanted to be among them based solely on his works. There isn’t a sound so lush as a Vaughan Williams string section; I don’t think it’s possible to cram any more instruments or harmonies in there. I particularly love the range of his orchestration at the beginning, from the lowest notes of the double basses to the highest notes of the violins. Combined with the vaguely eastern chord progression, and the solo oboe (a classic Vaughan Williams tell), it makes for a very evocative beginning. Until the strings settle into something a little more standard around 0:50, and we remember, oh right, we’re in England.
This particular symphony is an excellent gateway drug to the rest of his body of work. Vaughan Williams’s most famous pieces are The Lark Ascending and Fantasia by a Theme by Thomas Tallis, but you’d be better served by diving a little deeper. If you like this piece, check out his Norfolk Rhapsody, whose simplicity surely must have inspired Aaron Copland.
Worldly Wednesday: “The Man in the Desert,” Yoko Kanno
StandardSomething wakes up, stirs, and evolves in this piece. It starts so simply but builds to a massive and complicated climax before resolving back to the six-note lilt with which it began. It’s so hopeful throughout. It feels like running your fingers over an angora blanket. (Now is probably a good time to mention that your Yankette has mild synesthesia, which is when the senses get a little jumbled and, in this case, sounds have colors and textures.) The beginning especially sounds like a convergence of Aaron Copland and Steve Reich, both of whom I love. Yoko Kanno is a modern Japanese composer from Sendai, Japan.
She is mostly known for her soundtracks to anime films and video games. This is my favorite piece of hers. I have been looking everywhere for the words. Intrepid readers, if any of you can find them, I would really appreciate it.
Sacred Sunday: “Resonemus Hoc Natali,” Anon.
StandardI am, as you’ve no doubt guessed, a big fan of early music. I love its simplicity, I love its richness, and, to me, it is very centering. Whenever things get overwhelming and I need to create an eye in the storm, I put on this piece. It sounds mysterious, and therefore timeless. Also, because its melody follows the Dorian mode, it is neither happy nor sad – which is what makes it such a good piece to listen to when you need the universe to just quit it for a second. (Quick music theory tutorial! A “mode” is another word for scale, a scale being a succession of eight notes in ascending order of pitch. What makes the Dorian mode cool is that it includes both minor and major tonalities. For example, a D scale is in the Dorian mode.)
“Resonemus Hoc Natali” is a very early example of the use of polyphony – polyphony literally meaning “many sounds,” and in more common terms, the use of harmony. Like many early music pieces, we don’t know who wrote it exactly, but we do know it hails from the old region of France called Aquitaine in the 12th century.
Hey! It’s Aquitaine!
When the words begin to describe the reason behind God taking human form – “that he might bestow aid to the human race, the heavenly assembly is astonished at this” – the rest of the choir falls away, hushed like a gasp, to leave a singer solo to tell the story. Gets me every time.
The final reason I love early music? It’s old. When I listen to this piece, I contemplate the number of men and women over the last nine centuries who have heard it, too, and the joys and sorrows they carried with them as I carry mine. That comforting connection makes me feel immortal.
—
Resonemus hoc natali
cantu quodam speciali,
Deus ortu temporali
de secreto virginali
processit hodie,
cessant argumenta perfidie.
Magnum quidem sacramentum,
mundi factor fit sic mentum,
sumens carnis indumentum,
ut conferat adiumentum,
humano generi,
cetus inde mirantur superi.
Post memorem redit risus,
aperitur paradisus,
et in terris Deus visus,
lapis manus ne precisus,
quem vidit Daniel,
quem venturum predixit Gabriel.
Hic est noster angularis,
spes iustorum salutaris,
hic est noster salutaris,
potens celi, terre, maris,
facture condolens,
quam premebat tirannus insolens.
At this birth let us sing out
with some special song,
God comes forth today in temporal birth
from virginal mystery,
let the disputes
of the faithless cease.
Indeed the mighty maker of the world
thus is made the sacrament of the spirit,
taking on the cloak of flesh
that he might bestow aid
to the human race,
the heavenly assembly is astonished at this.
After mourning, laughter returns,
paradise is opened,
and God is seen upon the earth,
the stone uncut by human hand
which Daniel saw,
whose coming Gabriel foretold.
This is our cornerstone,
the healing hope of the upright,
this is our saving power
over the heavens, earth, and sea,
consoling by his act
those whom the insolent tyrant oppressed.
Worldly Wednesday: “Otche Nash,” Nikolai Kedrov
StandardI learned last night that a friend, fellow international relations scholar, and net benefit to humanity, Alex Petersen, was killed in a Taliban attack at a café in Kabul. I didn’t know Alex very well. We met a few times and were connected by our membership in Young Professionals in Foreign Policy and our mutual friends. I didn’t have to know him well personally to have been awed by him intellectually and professionally. Alex had devoted his life to the study of international relations in all its forms, and threw himself into it with ravenous abandon. That the world could lose someone so young, so accomplished, and so focused on the betterment of humanity is beyond heartbreaking. When I found out about his murder, I heard this piece in my head. It is a Russian Orthodox version of the Lord’s Prayer.
More about Alex Petersen here, courtesy of Josh Rogin.
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