Research Reviews
Dr. Kimberly Dunn Adams
VOLUME 62 | NUMBER 1 | SPRING 2025
NCCO The Choral Scholar
Introduction
April 2025
In recent years, forms of scholarly expression and dissemination have evolved to include formats beyond the written word. The Choral Scholar is responding to this expansion of resources in a pragmatic and inclusive way: by reframing the “Book Reviews” as “Research Reviews.”
This journal will continue publishing reviews of recently published books while expanding the scope to include reviews of resources in more diverse formats, such as documentaries, video lectures, interviews, and podcasts. Our goal is to offer a comprehensive collection of contemporary scholarship in conducting, musicology, literature, music theory, learning psychology, critical theory, and pedagogy.
I am honored to begin work as the Associate Editor of Research Reviews for The Choral Scholar and American Choral Reviews, and I look forward to curating a column that showcases the breadth of modern scholarship. Your engagement in this endeavor is crucial and encouraged. If you would like to submit completed commentary, write a preselected review, or suggest new items for review, please visit https://ncco-usa.org/tcs-submissions or email me directly at Kadams2@wcupa.edu.
Dr. Kimberly Dunn Adams is Director of Choral Activities and Professor of Music at the Wells School of Music at West Chester University of Pennsylvania.
of the open air, of the festive halls and large reception rooms of the communities and of the sumptuous halls of princes.”4 Einstein does not specify any particular musical characteristics, however—like in Ambros’s work, it is still just a descriptive term. In Alfred Dunning’s book Die Staatsmotette, 1480-1555 of 1970, he redefines the term by using it as a genre classification, rather than a descriptive term. For Dunning, the critical identifying feature of a civic motet is its social function: as stated above, it is a work composed specifically for a particular state ceremony in the official language of that state.5 Because of this definition, the primary means of identifying a civic motet is through its text rather than any musical characteristics. Dunning also argues that the function of these pieces is to generate and consolidate power for the court. Far from being a decorative sideshow, this music was “a necessity, an indispensable means for the exercise of power.”6
Dunning argues that this political music “always occurred in the garb of existing musical forms… it took its strength from them, in many cases advanced their development, grew alongside them,”7 and had no musical identity of its own. However, there are certain common musical elements that scholars have discerned within this body of repertoire. While Dunning never defines the civic motet’s musical characteristics, he does mention several compositional elements repeatedly in his analyses, suggesting commonalities. Features such as cantus firmus structure, a tendency toward complex polyphony employing more than four voices, and displays of technical inventiveness occur quite frequently
4 Alfred Einstein, The Italian Madrigal, vol. 1, trans. Alexander H. Krappe, Roger H. Sessions, and Oliver Strunk (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1949), 187.
5 Perkins, “Die Staatsmottete,” 660.
6 Albert Dunning, “Official Court Music: Means and Symbol of Might,” in La musique et le rite sacré et profane, ed. Marc Honegger, Christian Meyer, and Paul Prévost (Strasbourg: Association des publications près les Universités de Strasbourg, 1986): 20.
7 Ibid., 19.
in these works.8 Interestingly, these features are also common in the most elaborate sacred motets of the time generally, and in Adrian Willaert’s musical oeuvre specifically. Martha Feldman takes this link a step further by arguing that Willaert’s Venetian works that contain these characteristics of inventiveness and complexity adhere closely to what she calls “the official state rhetoric” – musical language that is imbued with a sense of depth and scope, meant to convey liturgical solemnity and moral seriousness, but within more secular contexts.9 Willaert’s five civic motets, discussed below, are prime examples of this aesthetic.
What Willaert tells us about Willaert
Adrian Willaert (1490–1562) held the position of maestro di cappella at the Basilica of St. Mark in Venice for the majority of his life. The doge, Andrea Gritti, personally chose Willaert for the post in late 1527 (until 1807, St. Mark’s was not the cathedral of Venice, but instead the personal chapel of the doge), and Willaert stayed until his death in late 1562.10 While at St. Mark’s, Willaert presided over an extensive musical organization, and also built a reputation as a master teacher. His students (who studied with him at various levels of formality) included many of the most prominent musicians of the next generation: Cipriano de Rore, Perissone Cambio, Baldassare Donato, Nicola Vicentino, Girolamo Parabosco, Costanzo Porta, Jacques Buus, and Gioseffo Zarlino.11
Tim Shephard argues that, in addition to cultivating an influential circle of students in
8 Martin Picker, “Albert Dunning. Die Staatsmotette 1480-1555,” review of Die Staatsmotette 1480-1555, by Albert Dunning, Journal of the American Musicological Society 25, no. 2 (Summer 1972): 259.
9 Martha Feldman, City Culture and the Madrigal at Venice (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 82.
10 Giulio Ongaro, “Sixteenth-Century Patronage at St Mark’s, Venice,” Early Music History 8 (1988): 82.
11 Lewis Lockwood, Giulio Ongaro, Michele Fromson, and Jessie Ann Owens, “Willaert, Adrian,” Grove Music Online, Oxford Music Online, Oxford University Press, (http://www.oxfordmusiconline. com/subscriber/article/grove/music/40122).
Venice, Willaert consciously created a public musical persona for himself as an exceptionally academic and learned composer. He emphasized his early education at the University of Paris, and concentrated on canons and other puzzletype compositions, which were often associated with intellectual musicianship.12 These efforts at crafting a persona succeeded—for example, in his student Zarlino’s widely-influential music theory treatise Le istitutioni harmoniche of 1558, Zarlino wrote that
in the manner of a new Pythagoras examining minutely all the possibilities and discovering countless errors, [Willaert] set out to correct them and to restore music to the honor and dignity it once possessed and logically should possess; and he revealed a rational method of composing each musical cantilena in elegant style, and has given a most clear example thereof in his works.13
The self-consciousness of Willaert’s work is further indicated by his adherence to a stylistic division that extended throughout his era, a division that is particularly relevant to a discussion of secular Latin-texted pieces. Martha Feldman argues that a bifurcation of vocal music into public versus private styles, extending across secular and sacred genres, marks the music of sixteenthcentury Venice in particular and Italian-speaking lands more generally. Feldman notes the stylistic differences between high and low subgenres of secular vocal music by Willaert. 14 Having examined the rarefied and subtle techniques of his Musica Nova madrigals (which were originally meant only for private performance) and compared them to the techniques that Willaert
used in his anthologized madrigals (meant for more public consumption), Feldman argues that the composer consciously crafted madrigals in distinct public and private styles. This publicprivate dichotomy is paralleled by an amateurconnoisseur dichotomy as well. Although all notated music was intended for a very small subset of the general population, that subset could be further divided into two groups: those for whom music was essentially entertainment, and those for whom music was an intellectual exploration, a field for esoteric experiments and advanced techniques.
Katelijne Schiltz has created a similar typology for motets, arguing that there were different stylistic ideals for motets composed for public consumption on the one hand, and for the private use of exclusive literary circles on the other. Specifically, motets for private use would often be more musically experimental than their public counterparts. To support this typology, Schiltz draws on evidence both within the motets of Willaert and in the theoretical writings of Willaert’s student, Nicola Vicentino.15 While Willaert’s work spans both sides of this division, an exceptionally large amount of his output falls into the more complex and experimental category, and this is exactly the “official state rhetoric” to which Feldman refers – complex structures and textures meant to convey solemnity and seriousness within a secular context.
Willaert’s constructed reputation as an intellectual composer, when combined with his large body of prominent students and his wide net of noble contacts (including Este, Sforza, and Medici family members,16 explored below), paints a picture of Willaert as a savvy, career-minded musician, a
12 Tim Shephard, “Finding fame: Fashioning Adrian Willaert ca. 1518,” Journal of the Alamire Foundation 4, no. 1 (2012): 25.
13 Gustave Reese, Music in the Renaissance (New York: W.W. Norton, 1959), 374.
14 Feldman, City Culture, 259.
15 Katelijne Schiltz, “Content and context: On public and private motet style in 16th-century Venice,” in Théorie et analyse musicales (1450–1650): Actes du colloque international Louvain-la-Neuve, 23–25 Septembre 1999 (2001): 326.
16 Lockwood et al, “Willaert, Adrian.”
Music, Authorship, and the Book in the First Century of Print, van Orden attempts “not only to problematize the relationship between music books and their authors, but to put bookmaking into confrontation with music making of the time.”
23 She argues that, for the most part, musicians in the sixteenth century were primarily concerned with the practical music-making that made their livings, and for which they wrote their music in the first place: in churches and noble courts. Musicians reinforced patronage bonds and established social ties with new benefactors primarily through performance. During Willaert’s time, as Lydia Goehr writes, musical works and their performances “were geared towards the temper and needs of the persons and institutions who determined the functions. Musicians, who were normally under the latter’s employ, had little control and power of decision regarding matters of instrumentation, form, length, and text. They obeyed the wishes of their employers.” 24 Van Orden further claims that “bookmen conspired to fabricate the truths modern readers regularly take as given: that the person named as the author of a book did indeed write the text it contains, that the book was printed where it says it was, and that one copy is the same as the next.” 25 Scotto and Gardano were two of the first music publishers who would actively reassure readers that they had worked from the composer’s own copy of the music. Despite such claims, only prints with authentic explanatory dedications from the composer can be considered as authorized by that composer, and those were very rare until the late sixteenth century.26
While modern musicologists are drawn to the single-composer folio choirbook as a monumental work of unified provenance (appealing to
23 Kate van Orden, Music, Authorship, and the Book in the First Century of Print (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2014), 9.
24 Lydia Goehr, The Imaginary Museum of Musical Works: An Essay in the Philosophy of Music, revised edition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 178.
25 van Orden, Music, 11.
26 Ibid., 27.
Romantic notions of compositional authority), these kinds of prints were rare, and were often made without any involvement from the composer at all. When the composer was involved, it was usually not as a capitalistic venture for their direct remunerative benefit, but instead to solidify existing patronage bonds or create new ones. In addition, collectors often separated and rebound these single-composer prints into new sets that might contain twenty or more individually printed editions. Thus even contemporary collectors were not attached to the idea of a unified expression of a composer’s output.27
Publishers could acquire music for printing by copying music from previous prints, procuring music directly from a composer, or obtaining new manuscripts from those who had access to new music.28 In 1539 and 1540, Scotto printed a significant amount of music by Willaert as he was focusing his firm’s business increasingly on music, and used his extensive network of business ties to progress in this area; he must have viewed the addition of a successful composer like Willaert to his roster as a way to advance himself as a music publisher. The print collection that contains all five of Willaert’s civic motets, Musica quinque vocum vulgo motecta liber primus, is a collection of five-voice motets by Willaert that was published by Scotto in 1539 and reprinted (also by Scotto) in 1550. Importantly, there is no evidence whatsoever that Willaert participated in or otherwise supervised the printing of this music.29 Therefore, as van Orden argues, while we can certainly draw conclusions about how the compilers of the collection intended them to be used, there is a gap between the source and the composer.
Musica quinque vocum vulgo motecta liber primus was published as a set of five partbooks in oblong
27 Lewis, Antonio Gardano, 123.
28 Ibid., 211.
29 Ibid., passim.
quarto, containing twenty-three Latin-texted works attributed to Willaert. 30 The title page has no dedication, and eight of the twenty-three works had appeared in earlier prints from other publishers (including Moderne, Attaingnant, Formschneider, and Schoeffer), and in earlier manuscripts. 31 The second edition of 1550 does not contain any significant changes to the contents, or even the order, of the first edition; the only differences are a few corrections to the music and text.32
Katelijne Schiltz argues that two criteria were used for the organization of the twenty-three motets in this print: modal considerations, and categories of compositional technique. Regarding the modal considerations, Schiltz does not find any trends in the cleffing or the finals of the motets, which would commonly determine the ordering of a collection. Instead, key signature, which was another common ordering principle at the time, is a significant factor. The first portion of the collection (nos. 1–13) is in cantus mollis, with one flat, and the second portion (nos. 14–23) is in cantus durus, with no flats or sharps in the signature.33
The use of compositional technique as an ordering criterion was less common in prints of the time, but Schiltz argues that this particular collection employs a symmetrical ordering scheme that juxtaposes works with “traditional” compositional techniques (canon and cantus firmus) against ones that used “modern” techniques (chromatic alterations and syllabic declamation following text
accent).34 Schiltz argues that it was Scotto himself who created this dual ordering system, and that he did so as a sort of esoteric intellectual game.35 These publisher practices, and the lack of any dedicatory comment from the composer, point to a collection in which the composer was relatively uninvolved, even though publisher and composer lived in the same city and were acquainted with each other. Because of the partbook format and the modal/stylistic ordering, this publication was likely intended for collectors to perform and study at their leisure.
But since these clues originate with the publisher, rather than the composer, the source does not tell us anything about Willaert’s own intention for the works’ function(s). Just because the source consists entirely of Willaert’s music does not mean that it has any direct connection to Willaert himself. Any investigation of the actual circumstances of composition must be confined to the notes and texts on the page, and must include analysis of the text as well as the music. As we examine Willaert’s civic motets, it is especially important to scrutinize the poetic texts in order to determine context and function.
What Willaert’s civic motets tell us about Willaert
30 Hermann Zenck, Adriani Willaert: Opera Omnia vol. 3: Motetta V vocum, 1539 et 1550 (Rome: American Institute of Musicology, 1950: i.
31 Lewis, Antonio Gardano, 242.
32 Katelijne Schiltz, “Motets in Their Place: Some ‘Crucial’ Findings on Willaert’s Book of Five-Part Motets (Venice, 1539),” trans. Hilary Staples, Tijdschrift van de Koninklijke Vereniging voor Nederlandse Muziekgeschiedenis 54, no. 2 (2004): 99.
33 Ibid., 104.
The five civic motets by Willaert in Scotto’s Musica quinque vocum vulgo motecta liber primus have a varied and sometimes obscure set of originating circumstances, but what binds them is the use of complex musical techniques and Latin texts to communicate seriousness and gravity—the use of “official state rhetoric”—and using that style to flatter powerful patrons in their military and diplomatic ventures.
34 Ibid., 106.
35 Ibid., 112.
Si rore Aonio is the fifth motet in the 1539 Scotto print. The text suggests that the work was written for Pierio Valeriano Bolzani, a humanist writer, poet, and cleric who lived from 1477 to 1558.36
Prima pars
Si rore Aonio fluerent mea plectra, Valeri, Niterer in laudes illa movere tuas, Utque alii heroum cecinere ducumque triumphos
Nostra tibi semper Musa dicata foret
If with the Aonian dew my quills flow, O Valerius,
I was borne to move them in your praises, And as others might sing the triumphs of heroes and commanders
Our Muse will have always been devoted to you.
Secunda pars
At desueta diu revocantem carmina terrent
Et tua me virtus et mea penuries.
Vincor ego immensas cupiens tibi pangere laudes
Teque meos laetos vincere posse modos.
But in recalling verses long disused, they terrify me —
Both your virtue and my shortcomings. I am overcome with desire to compose you immense praises and to be able to overwhelm you with my joyful measures.37
The poem is clearly addressed to “Valeri,” an odd choice as a dedicatee, except that he was a favorite of the Medici family in general, and Pope Leo X (née Giovanni de Medici) in particular—
36 John Platts, A New Universal Biography Vol. 4 (London: Sherwood, Gilbert, and Piper, 1826), 289.
37 This and all following Staatsmotetten translations by Travis Griffin and Jonathan Harvey.
both “Valeri” and his uncle had served as private tutors for the Medicis, including the future pope, specializing in ancient Egyptian, Greek, and Roman subjects.38 Before his position in Venice, Willaert is known to have accompanied the French King Francis I on a trip to meet Pope Leo X, and a connection was likely established at that time.39
Beyond this dedication to “Valeri,” however, nothing is known for certain about the dating or circumstances of the composition. Like all of these civic works, it was probably written as a gift to initiate or solidify a relationship of patronage with a dedicatee. The poetry, most likely by Willaert himself, is written in the first person, from the perspective of the artist composing the verses. The piece is therefore a personal tribute to “Valeri” and may not have been originally meant for a specific performance context at all. Instead, it could be a piece for contemplation, written to flatter the friend of one of Willaert’s powerful patrons.
The piece is divided into a prima and secunda pars. Its structure follows that of the poetry, with primary cadences occurring at the ends of poetic lines, and the main musical division occurring between stanzas of the poem. The prima pars contains two major cadential resting points: the first is at the end of line two of the poem, and the second at the very end. The secunda pars has a single major cadential point, which is only reached at the very end. The work changes mode over its duration: beginning in Dorian, a shift in ranges and the addition of frequent E-flats signals a shift to D Hypophrygian by the end of the secunda pars, with the final cadence occurring on the reciting pitch of G rather than the final of D.
Although the beginning of the piece is strictly imitative, the overall texture is marked by a more flexible motivicity, wherein brief motives are attached to each text phrase and are subtly altered
38 Jane A. Bernstein, Music Printing in Renaissance Venice: The Scotto Press, 1539–1572 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998): 242; Platts, A New Universal Biography, 290.
39 Lockwood et al, “Willaert, Adrian.”
over time. The text is set mostly syllabically. For these two reasons, and the fact that there is no cantus firmus or canon technique at work, Katelijne Schiltz classifies this motet as one of the works in the Scotto print that utilizes modern compositional procedures.40 The mode change also contributes to the idea that this piece is marked by modern techniques.
There is one specific textual moment that is highlighted by a change in the musical texture. The beginning of the third poetic line in the prima pars is set homophonically in four voices, which is unique in the piece. Except for that moment, which marks a structural division, homophony is rare in even just two voices, much less three or four. Interestingly, the meaning of this particular homophonically declaimed text (“utque alii,” “and as others”) is not crucial to the meaning of the poem. One might expect the patron’s name to be a textual focal point, or a word like “laudes” (“praises”). Instead, in this instance, Willaert uses texture to clarify musical form, rather than textual meaning.
Adriacos numero is the seventh motet in the 1539 Scotto collection. It has a clearly discernible origin: a celebration of the visit of Cardinal Ippolito de Medici to Venice in 1532, when he was en route to Hungary as part of a military expedition against the Turks there. 41 Willaert never specifically worked directly for the Medici, but he certainly sought their patronage, and as noted earlier, had occasion to meet them as well. The text refers to the family explicitly:
Prima pars
Adriacos numero si qui comprehendere fluctus
Posse putat saevi cum tumet unda maris, Ille tuas referat laudes et maxima facta Queis modo Pannonius obstupuitque Geta.
40 Schiltz, “Motets in Their Place,” 107. 41 Bernstein, Music Printing, 242.
I count the Adriatic waves, if anyone can who ponders how ferociously the waves of the sea swell, He carries back your praises and greatest deeds to them in the manner that Pannonius also praised Geta.
Secunda pars Nobis dum sacros templis adolebimus ignes,
Subdita Romano dum pia regna patri, Non indictus eris Medices, quo vindice tuta
Vix timet iratos, Itala terra deos.
As long as we will burn sacred fires in our temples, Piety has reigned over the Roman fatherland, You will not be unknown Medici, who in your power Scarcely fear the angry gods, the land of Italy having been protected.
The text, aside from glorifying the Medici as a group, also refers to “Pannonius” and “Geta.” The latter is the Roman emperor Publius Septimius Geta (189–211), who was glorified in the poetry of the fifteenth-century Croatian humanist writer Janus Pannonius (1434–1472). 42 In this way, Willaert glorifies the Medicis by presenting them in comparison to a great Roman imperial family, and he simultaneously self-identifies as a humanist.
Adriacos numero is divided into a prima and a secunda pars, both of which are in the Hypolydian mode. The prima pars is distinguished by its frequent cadences, which adhere to the rhetorical structure of the poem. The only cadence that brings all parts to simultaneous rest, however, is at the very end of the prima pars. The prima
42 Ádám Makkai, In quest of the ‘miracle stag’: the poetry of Hungary (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 1996), 41.
text Vi- vat dux Fran- cis- cus Sfor- ti- a fe- lix solmization mi fa ut fa mi ut sol mi fa re mi natural hexachord E F
is stated in breves on the hard hexachord. Finally, after a single semibreve of rest, the soggetto is stated one last time, in semibreves, on the natural hexachord (see Figure 2).
The cadential and phrase structure of the other voices does not follow this framework at all. Rather, they follow the rhetorical meaning of the longer poetic text, resulting in two simultaneous, overlapping structures. The work is in the Phrygian mode, and the opening establishes two pairs of voices, superius and altus against tenor and bassus, through paired imitation. There is no rhetorical use of homophony, and the texture is marked by continuously evolving motivicity. One textual phrase is emphasized through the presence of only three voices: “cognomen ab hoste” (“taken from the enemy”), potentially to focus attention on those words. It would have made sense for Willaert to highlight the opening two lines of text, specifically praising the Sforza, but interestingly he does not do so. Schiltz categorizes this motet as a piece in the older, more “traditional” compositional style as discussed above, because it
uses a cantus firmus soggetto cavato, a technique drawn from earlier generations of composers.45
Haud aliter is the seventeenth motet in the 1539 Scotto print. It was composed as a celebration of Ferdinand I of Austria’s defeat of the Turks at Vienna in 1529. 46 Although the text does not directly name Ferdinand, the invocation of Wenceslaus is a reference to the Czech territories of the Hapsburg Empire, which were referred to as the St. Wenceslaus territories.47
Haud aliter pugnans fulgebat Caesar in armis,
Ac tu spes patriae bellica tela ferens.
Magna trophaea paras dum tu contendis in hostem, Vincislai paras nomina magna quoque; Nam merito sortitus eras haec nomina laudis
Cum toties victor vincere doctus eras.
By way of war, Caesar shone in arms, And so too are you the hope of the fatherland, bearing weapons of war.
, mm. 111–116
45 Schiltz, “Motets in Their Place,” 108.
46 Bernstein, Music Printing, 242.
47 Zenck, Adriani Willaert: Opera Omnia vol. 3, ii.
Figure 1. Soggetto cavato solmization of “Vivat dux Franciscus Sfortia felix”
Figure 2. Inclite Sfortiadum princeps, quintus
You obtain great trophies when you struggle against the enemy, You also bear the great name of Wenceslaus;
For by merit you obtained these names of praise, As victor, so often you had been taught to conquer.
The motet is in the Ionian mode, and because of the syllabic text setting that follows patterns of accentuation, and a rhetorical moment of homophony on the text “magna trophaea paras” (“great trophies”), Schiltz categorizes this as a “modern” style motet within the 1539 print. 48 Haud aliter is marked by pervasive flexible motivicity, in which small motives, which are attached to specific text phrases, are repeated and varied continuously. The motives are quite short, often attached to only two or three words, rather than an entire poetic line. The piece also contains a large amount of text (and therefore musical) repetition, although because the motives change over time, there are no exact repetitions across the full musical texture. There are frequent and regular cadences, although none of them (save the final one) bring all the voices to rest together. Because of the continuity of the polyphonic texture, and the textual repetition, the overall effect of the piece is a long through-composed work that never rests until the very end.
Immediately following Haud aliter in the Scotto print is Victor io salve, the eighteenth motet in the collection. Like Inclite Sfortiadum princeps, it was composed as a tribute to Francesco II Sforza, the Duke of Milan, commemorating his victory over the French at the Battle of Pavia in 1525.49 The text makes specific reference to the Sforzas, and to the French king Francis I who was defeated there:
Prima pars Victor io, salve, tantum cui fata triumphi Gallorum capto rege dedere decus! Notum erat ipse deos quantum venereris amesque, Nunc de te superum cura favorque patet. (Salve Sfortiarum maxime dux et imperator.)
Hail victor, prosper, so great are you to whom the will of the gods has given honor in triumph over the captive king of the Gauls!
It was known just how much you love and venerate the gods, now the divine powers’ care and favor for you is revealed.
(hail highest duke and commander of the Sforzas.)
Secunda pars Quis curare neget divos mortalia, sanctos Mira ope cum videat reddita regna duci? Nil fortuna malis poterat trux addere tantis, Nil dare plus istis dii potuere bonis. (Salve Sfortiarum maxime dux et imperator.)
Who may deny that holy powers oversee mortality,
Seeing that power has been restored to the duke by a marvelous work?
No random fortune would be able to defeat such evils, and the gods are unable to give more to your profits.
(hail highest duke and commander of the Sforzas.)
48 Schiltz, “Motets in Their Place,” 108.
49 Zenck, Adriani Willaert: Opera Omnia vol. 3, ii.
This motet also uses a soggetto cavato , but a longer one than Inclite Sfortiadum princeps. It is constructed as follows: (Figure 3 shown on next page.)
The soggetto is in the tenor voice in both the prima and secunda pars, and is laid out in a way similar to Inclite Sfortiadum princeps. In the prima pars, after fifteen breves of rest, the soggetto is stated in breves on the hard hexachord. Then, after another fifteen breves of rest, it is stated on the natural hexachord. The note values then diminish, and after fifteen semibreves of rest, the soggetto is stated in semibreves on the hard hexachord (see Figure 4). In the secunda pars, the soggetto structure is identical, except that the hexachords are reversed (to the order natural, hard, natural).
The structure of the other four voices follows the structure of the poetry, rather than the pseudoisorhythmic framework of the tenor. The four remaining voices are also split up into two groups, with the superius and altus functioning as an upper pair, and the quintus and bassus functioning as a separate, lower pair.
Victor io salve is in the same mode as Haud aliter pugnans (Ionian); they appear one after the other within the print, which is ordered modally. Because of the prevalence of long melismas and the use of soggetto cavato technique, Schiltz categorizes this motet as “traditional” style, rather than “modern.”50
The prima pars begins with the two pairs of voices in imitative polyphony before shifting to a more flexible, freer motivic polyphony. The secunda pars begins homophonically, and then splits into paired imitation, before alternating between freer, motivic polyphony and paired imitation for the remainder of the motet.
These five secular Latin-texted works illuminate the patronage ties that Willaert maintained outside of his Venice church position, sustaining connections with wealthy benefactors from the Hapsburg, Sforza, and Medici families in Florence,
50 Schiltz, “Motets in Their Place,” 108.
Figure 3. Soggetto cavato solmization of “Salve Sfortiarum maxime dux et imperator”
Figure 4: Victor io, salve, tenor, mm. 68-75
Choral Reviews
Nathan Reiff, editor
I am the great sun Jussi Chydenius (b. 1972)
SATB with divisi, unaccompanied(c. 5:00)
Text: English (Charles Causley, after a 17thcentury Norman crucifix)
Score available from Oxford University Press
Live performance recording: Hofstra University Chamber Choir, Dr. David Fryling, conductor; April 2012.
Perusal score
Finnish composer Jussi Chydenius has contributed more than a handful of smallscale choral works to the Oxford University Press catalogue since 2010, but he may be best known for his work as the bass vocalist in the wide-ranging a cappella ensemble Rajaton . Given his background in rock, jazz, and popular music, Chydenius’ works show a breadth of stylistic influences that sets them apart. Those encountering only Chidenius’s I am the great sun, an a cappella work published in 2010, may hear more traces of minimalism and medievalism than rock or jazz, though the composer nonetheless weaves these disparate strands together to create a powerful, rhythmically driving work with a declamatory and almost menacing tone.
I am the great sun sets a poem of the same name by the 20th-century Cornish poet Charles Causley. Reportedly, Causley was inspired by text found on a 17th-century crucifix traced to Normandy.
Whatever the genesis of the poem, however, it achieves an insistence through the repeated use of phrases beginning with “I am.” All but one of the 14 lines of the text begin in this way, a seemingly intentional reference to the similar formulation found in both Old and New Testament passages. While the speaker of Causley’s poem may indeed be God, the imagery the poet utilizes throughout evokes a host of different nameless characters—a husband, a wife, a captain, a lover, and many others. In nearly every line, the speaker makes clear that the addressee has failed to live up to certain expectations established by the context. The captain, for instance, says that “you will not obey,” while in another line a captive laments that “you do not free me.”
The parallel structures of the lines of the poem, the disconnected imagery that nonetheless points to a similar frustration on the part of the speaker, and the general brusqueness of the text itself finds an apt setting in Chydenius’ music. Over about five minutes, I am the great sun layers fast-moving, short phrases across all of the voice parts to build a series of crescendos that seem to stop and restart as abruptly as the images of the text itself. The piece has a distinctly modal feel, with multiple sections grounded in F Mixolydian. The abrupt way the tonal center shifts from one passage of
the piece to the next also contributes to its blunt character, as does the way that the voice parts layer their phrases against the written meter on some occasions throughout the piece.
Chydenius’ setting begins with the sopranos singing the first line of text—”I am the great sun, but you do not see me”—in a repetitive, almost introspective way over a drone by the altos and tenors. When the basses join in a few measures later—”I am your husband, but you turn away”— they begin their short phrase an eighth note ahead of the sopranos. Some of the altos and tenors then adopt the soprano and bass texts, respectively, starting each of their phrases with even further metrical displacement from the original. The result is a quick buildup of layered lines that, though quiet, convey a sort of simmering chaos or even anger.
The composer controls this effect well throughout the piece, selecting certain phrases to set homophonically (“I am that God to whom you will not pray,”) across all voices for a more dramatic and direct impact. At other moments Chydenius breaks up the text, asking singers to space out the syllables with rests or to whisper the words in rhythm.
I am the great sun achieves a feeling of continuous ratcheting tension up to the final two lines of text, the only ones to break the “I am” pattern— ”I am your life, but if you will not name me / Seal up your soul with tears, and never blame me.” By the end of the piece, Chydenius tasks the choir with seven-part divisi and sweeping parallel motion that seems to convey relentless frustration or even despair. Rarely do singers have an opportunity to explore music and text channeling the emotions found within I am the great sun. Though these emotions may be difficult to wrestle with, expressing them through works such as this gives us as choral musicians the
opportunity to connect more deeply with the full range of human experience.
— Nathan Reiff
Dr. Nathan Reiff is Director of Choirs at Swarthmore College and an Associate Editor of The Choral Scholar & American Choral Review.
The Big Picture (2017) Judith Weir (b. 1954) SATB divisi, unison chorus, clarinet, percussion, keyboard. 5 movements (c. 17 minutes)
Text: King Henry VIII, Wallace Stevens, Robert Frost, John Boyle O’Reilly, Christina Rossetti
Chester Music
Studio recording: “The Big Picture,” Bristol Choral Society, Hilary Campbell, conductor
Live recording: Harvard University Choir, Edward Jones, conductor, Mar. 2024
Judith Weir is among the most highly esteemed composers in the United Kingdom, with a prolific output of opera, works for orchestra, chamber ensembles, solo instruments, voice, and choir. Commissions by the likes of Simon Rattle, Jessye Norman, the English National Opera, and the English Royal Family, including in her role as Master of the Queen’s/King’s Music from 2014-2024, mark Weir as a composer of the highest stature.
Among Judith Weir’s vast choral output, The Big Picture (2017), scored for SATB chorus, unison chorus, keyboard, clarinet, and percussion, falls
on the more accessible side and is suitable for collegiate choirs as well as community choirs and advanced high school ensembles interested in performing multi-movement works. The variety of musical moods and characters in The Big Picture reflects Judith Weir’s musical personality: at times whimsical and fun and at other times contemplative and emotionally moving. The unison chorus, labeled in the score as “Voices,” is written to be accessible: according to Weir’s performance notes, “their music, it is hoped, can be learned by ear without needing to read the score.” The inclusion of the “Voices” part creates a wonderful opportunity for collaboration between choirs of different performance capabilities.
The work was commissioned for the re-opening of the Aberdeen Art Gallery in Aberdeen, Scotland. In the premiere performance, the performers were placed on three levels of the art gallery, with the solo clarinetist on the top level, the “Voices” and percussion on the middle level, and the SATB choir and the keyboard on the lowest level. This arrangement is by no means necessary, but the music lends itself well to creative placement of performing forces.
Each of the movements is named for a different color, though the themes of the texts themselves are not necessarily about that color. The composer writes that although she does not experience synesthesia, “I realized after long reflection that I had certain clear ideas about certain keys ‘belonging’ to certain colours; and I have explored these personal perceptions in The Big Picture.” The first movement, “Green,” sets a text attributed to King Henry VIII, “Green growth the holly,” which eventually makes the claim that “As the holly groweth green / and never changeth hue, / So I am, ever hath been / Unto my lady true” —ironic, given our knowledge of King Henry VIII’s character. “Green” starts with a bold and wandering line from the solo clarinet, which makes way for a brilliant E Mixolydian entrance
from the keyboard and marimba. The first voices to enter are the “Voices” unison chorus, split into two parts with dovetailing melodies. Finally, the SATB chorus enters with densely voiced chords in a declamatory, rhythmically driving statement of “Green groweth the holly.” As the movement progresses, textures change, the “Voices” and SATB choir overlap. Overall, the movement is exciting and rhythmically driving, with moments of subtle and affective shifts between the Mixolydian and Ionian modes.
The second movement, “Blue,” presents two stanzas from Wallace Stevens’s poem, The Man with the Blue Guitar, which muses on the nature of art and is said to be inspired by Picasso’s The Old Guitarist. The composer draws inspiration both from the painting and the poem, assigning the blues of the painting to the somber key of D minor. The movement is set in 12/8 time, and the “Voices” primarily sing an ostinato figure on the syllable “tung,” imitating the sound of a guitar string being plucked, in unison with the marimba. After an evocative tutti SATB entrance on the text “The blue guitar,” the main text is taken over by the sopranos and altos trading melodies, followed by more homorhythmic declamations from the choir.
In the third movement, “Gold,” the clarinet begins with a wandering melody that continually departs and returns to the pitch D, which the “Voices” are holding on a hum or “ah.” In fragmented melodies, the voices of the SATB chorus enter on words of Robert Frost’s poem “Nature’s first green is gold.” At the word, “gold,” all voices sing notes in a D Major chord superimposed over a G Major chord (G Major 9 in jazz harmony), a chord which Weir describes in her composer’s note as having “a particularly strong, metallic brightness.” First, the chord is sung in a low register, then it slides up an octave. At the same time, the percussionist plays this same chord as a tremolo on the glockenspiel, and the “Voices” are given the instruction: “Bright metal sounds including: extra glockenspiels, toy
glockenspiels, chime bars, wind/metal chimes, small metal objects / money jingled in a tin or bag.” After a fall from the high register and a requisite diminuendo, everyone crescendos again, rebuilding the D/G Major chord structure on the word “Gold” in repetitions of the final line of text, “Nothing gold can stay.”
Perhaps the most poignant movement is the fourth, “Red, White,” a setting of a love poem by the Irish poet and activist John Boyle O’Reilly. Weir writes, “In my mind the richer the red (shading toward purple) the more flats in the key signature,” and therefore sets the movement in D-flat Major. “White, meanwhile, is suggested by an absence of musical tone; the ‘white’ sections of this movement are whispered or hissed.” These two “colors” are immediately superimposed with the percussionist playing a bowed cymbal and the “Voices” whispering text and sustaining unvoiced consonants: “Whiss (as in ‘whisper’), Pash-sh (as in ‘passion’).” Meanwhile, the clarinet plays a lyrical melody in D-flat, which is then answered by the sopranos and altos singing a unison melody doubled by the keyboard. As the movement progresses, the rest of the choir enters on individual words or short phrases, deepening the texture with rich
chords. Finally, the full choir sings the entirety of the poem with lush harmonies.
The final movement, “Colour,” is a whirlwind tour through the colors of the rainbow, guided by Chistina Rossetti’s amusing poem. The instruments provide a rhythmically driving introduction, and the choir enters with a plucky, fragmented C Major statement on the text, “Pink, what is pink, a rose is pink…” Each subsequent section changes keys according to the color depicted in the poem. Throughout this movement, the choir sings intervallic melodies, often in parallel triads or thirds. On the final page of the piece, each voice part is divided and sings a note in a C Major 13 chord, voiced in stacked thirds with the “Voices” speaking for “white.” Each voice part is assigned a different line from the poem, and each singer is instructed the sing their text in individual entries in their own time, building an immense crescendo with a sharp cutoff, bringing the piece to a satisfying conclusion.
—Aaron Peisner
Dr. Aaron Peisner serves as Director of Choral Activities at University of North Carolina Wilmington.
Recording Reviews
Morgan Luttig, editor
A Dream So Bright: Choral
Music of Jake Runestad
True Concord Voices & Orchestra
Eric Holtan, Conductor
Reference Recordings
FR-756
(2024, 57’49”)
Trauma leaves scars on individuals, communities, cultures – and even Earth itself. On A Dream So Bright: Choral Music of Jake Runestad , the True Concord Voices & Orchestra, conducted by Eric Holtan, present two monumental premiere recordings that tell stories of trauma, despair, and the pursuit of redemption. Through Dreams of the Fallen (2013) and Earth Symphony (2022), Runestad offers complementary narratives of recovery: one through the lens of personal wartime trauma, and the other from the perspective of a planet enduring human exploitation. Both pieces are cast in five distinct parts, and both evoke vivid imagery using potent orchestral forces and tremendous variety of color, delivered by True Concord with drama and intensity. By setting these works alongside one another, A Dream So Bright poses the question: When is redemption possible, and for whom?
With texts by acclaimed poet and Iraq War veteran Brian Turner, Dreams of the Fallen explores themes of war, grief, courage, and shame. Premiered on
Veterans Day in 2013, the piece introduces the narrator’s conflict with its opening line: “And I keep telling myself that if I walk far enough / or long enough someday I’ll come out the other side.” Through violence and heartbreak, the work searches for that other side and the redemption it represents. Runestad’s setting employs an unusual distribution of forces by featuring solo piano in a highly expressive role. While the piano often acts as the primary emotive voice, the chorus conveys truth and color, an uncommon balance of responsibility that feels fresh and unexpected. Jeffrey Biegel, who was initially involved in commissioning the work, brings the solo piano part to life with clarity, substance, and sensitivity. The True Concord choir matches his intensity and demonstrates their impressive range, at times delivering fierce brutality while still finding moments for stunning beauty and warmth. With the orchestra’s lively and exacting performance, Holtan brings Runestad’s cinematic score to its full transformative potential.
Runestad conjures vivid imagery throughout Dreams of the Fallen, brought to life by the True Concord performers. Repeated pitches evoke the narrator’s footsteps, a physical manifestation of their ongoing search for peace. In the fourth
intense devastation and radiant beauty. Together, these works challenge us to reckon with the consequences of our actions—whether on the battlefield or the planet—and to consider our capacity for change. We are asked to realize the dream of redemption, knowing that we will one day leave it behind.
— Anthony DiMauro
Anthony DiMauro is a doctoral candidate in Orchestral Conducting at the University of Alabama.
Tapestry of Becoming Choral Arts Initiative
Brandon Elliott, artistic director
SKU: 198500107814 (2024, 52:16)
Tapestry of Becoming is the latest album from the Choral Arts Initiative under the artistic direction of Brandon Elliott. This album showcases contemporary choral compositions by a diverse group of composers, offering listeners a profound exploration of human experience through varied musical styles. The album’s title describes its thematic journey of a tapestry woven from threads of growth, resilience, and belonging that collectively illustrate what it means to “become”.1
Opening the album, Jeffrey Derus’s The House of Belonging features a predominantly homophonic
texture that allows the choir’s intonation and unified resonance to be brought to the forefront. The recurring harmonic progression on the text “this is the bright home” creates an immediate feeling of familiarity for the listener. The Choral Arts Initiative singers demonstrate exceptional balance and clarity throughout this introspective piece, calling listeners to consider their journey toward self-acceptance.
With haunting soprano soloists Valentina BoccaHackwith and Anna Kietzman performing over droning treble voices at the start, Juhi Bansal’s Fear (Becoming the Ocean) creates a striking contrast. The piece effectively employs ascending and descending glissandos alongside oscillating minor seconds to build an atmosphere of uneasiness and intensity that captures the feeling of fear. Elliott’s interpretation of Bansal’s work embodies the trepidation one feels when standing “at the foot of the unknown.”2
Following the purposefully unsettled feeling from the previous piece, Iván Enrique Rodríguez’s work provides a stark harmonic shift. Composed in the style of a traditional hymn, Blessed Be! expresses deep reverence for the earth from the whimsical piano introduction played by collaborative pianist Phillip Matsuura, to the hymn-like choral setting. This accessible piece would be a welcome addition to any choral program.
M.L. Smoker’s poetic text is set masterfully in Dale Trumbore’s Heart Butte, Montana. From the onset, the listener can hear the “unsympathetic wind” described in the poem as the choir changes between “nn” and “oo” sliding between indicated pitches in the score.3 Soloists Genie Hossain and
2 “Fear (Becoming the Ocean).” Juhi Bansal, juhibansal.com/fearbecoming-the-ocean/.
1 “Tapestry of Becoming.” CAI, www.choralartsinitiative.org/ product-page/tapestry-of-becoming.
3 “Heart Butte, Montana.” Graphite Publishing, graphitepublishing. com/product/heart-butte-montana/.
Lorraine Joy Welling deliver the narrative with textual clarity while maintaining awareness of the melodic line, complemented by the choir’s atmospheric backdrop that enhances the storytelling.
The album continues to highlight boundarypushing choral repertoire in Derrick Skye’s four-movement work all becomes the infinite , which blends choral voices with electronics and synthesizer. Electronic bass serves a drone role in the first movement, a seed embraced , with effective text painting in the choral parts. Strong rhythmic drive and crisp diction from the choir characterize a river’s journey , which alternates between unison, homophonic, and interlocking rhythmic passages. Elements of South African traditional music with call-and-response patterns and hand-clapping appear in the third movement a flame ignites , while the final movement culminates in a stunning moment of unity as the choir joins together on the word “transformed.” The multi-movement work ends with an aleatoric passage that leaves the concept of “belonging” open to interpretation by the listener.
Gospel influences shine in Aaron Manswell’s composition Stick With Love, a piece that won the Grand Philharmonic Choir Canada-wide composition competition in 2022. This work features soloists Jordan Smith Reynolds and Anna Caplan and draws on text from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to deliver an inspiring message of love in the face of the world’s darkness. The choir performs with clear intention and stylistic awareness even in audio recording. Similarly compelling momentum characterizes Ayanna Woods’ To Propagate A Home, where instrumental accompaniment and text work together to speak powerfully to resilience and “the transformative power of faith and hard work.” This piece is delivered with conviction by the ensemble and accompanying band of piano, cello, and
percussion. Woods’ powerful modified call-andresponse composition remains accessible for choirs of varying levels of experience.
Kile Smith’s three-movement work Where Flames a Word, set to poems by Paul Celan, brings the album to its conclusion. Dynamic contrasts and precise articulation highlight the first movement, Before your late face , while evocative text painting and dissonant cluster chords heighten the emotional impact of Celan’s dialogue in Conversation in the Mountains . Beginning more tonally and homophonic, the final movement, I know you, you are the deeply bowed, introduces dense harmonic structures that eventually resolve and fade into silence, leaving the listener longing for more.
Tapestry of Becoming demonstrates Choral Arts Initiative’s ability to navigate diverse compositional styles while maintaining technical precision and emotional authenticity. Under Brandon Elliott’s direction, the ensemble invites listeners to delve into the intricate emotions and meaning woven throughout this musical tapestry.4 The album honors traditional choral techniques while boldly exploring new sonic territories. For anyone interested in experiencing the expanding boundaries of what choral music can express in the 21st century, this album offers a thoughtprovoking listen that prompts reflection on one’s place in the world.
— Morgan Luttig University of Alabama
Morgan Luttig serves as Associate Editor for Recording Reviews at The Choral Scholar. Morgan is an Assistant Professor and Director of Choral Activities at the University of Alabama.
4 “Tapestry of Becoming.” CAI, www.choralarts initiative.org/product-page/tapestry-of-becoming.