Das ist mir Lied by Michael Praetorius
I can't believe we've arrived at our 200th repertoire project! Our first one was on March 25, 2019, almost 17 months ago. That day I sent out the first of the Wednesday Chorales; Monday Madrigals (loosely construed) and Friday Motets (ditto) were soon added to the schedule, and here we are at a double-century. And I'm proud to say that I have not missed a single one over all this time. (A few were tardy.)
What a journey it's been! I know you all vary wildly in the number of these projects you've looked at, studied, listened to and/or sung. But it's my fervent hope that, at least at some point, everyone has gotten some fun, some brightness, some hope, some musical satisfaction, some connection to what we do from the deluge of enthusiastic commentary and musical resources I've been sending out.
I know for a fact that I have learned a lot, have discovered so much great new-to-me repertoire, and have become a better writer over this strange and challenging period. (I've also become a better cook, but that's a whole 'nother story.) And I can assure you that all this repertoire exploration will serve a longer-term purpose as well, for the best of all this repertoire will return in the context of future concerts.
Many thanks to all of you who have participated at whatever level, and for those many, many who have written to me with reactions and opinions and thanks. Every one of these messages has been a precious encouragement as I've strived (along with the amazing and indefatigable Dianna) to do what I can to hold our community together, and even to help it thrive a bit in the midst of adversity.
A special note: I have committed to myself to maintain the thrice-weekly schedule for these projects through the summer. In September, as we re-start our ensembles and begin regular rehearsals, my workload will increase. At that point, I will probably move to a once-per-week schedule, sending out a single work or collection of works which appeals to me and which I think you might enjoy. As these appear, they will be added to the some two-hundred already available on our website.
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And now, for today's project: On such a momentous occasion, it seems appropriate to present a special piece, and I have for you today one of my all-time favorite motets: Michael Praetorius' great setting of Psalm 116, or 'Das ist mir lieb'.
The occasion which prompted this setting of this particular psalm was indeed momentous. In 1616, Burckhard Grossman (1575-1637), a wealthy man of letters with a strong interest in music, narrowly escaped a potentially life-threatening accident. As a means of rendering thanks for his escape, he commissioned sixteen composers who were working in Saxony and Thuringia at the time to provide settings of Psalm 116, itself a passionate outcry of gratitude for deliverance from all manner of trials and troubles.
The list of composers was something of a who's who of early 17th-century German musicians, including Heinrich Schütz, Johann Hermann Schein, Michael Altenburg, Christoph Demantius, Tobias Michael, and of course our old friend M. Praetorius.
The project became deeply personal (and, again, momentous) for Praetorius. When he submitted his composition, he included a note to Grossmann expressing his belief that, as he himself was stricken by a serious illness, he expected not to live much longer, and that his Psalm 116 should be considered his swan-song. And so it proved to be.
Praetorius’ setting is deeply felt, powerful and utterly engaging. Following the psalm, Praetorius conveys in musical terms a deliverance from utter defeat which is recounted several times and at different levels. The essential motion, again originating in the psalm, is from deep pain and sorrow to unlooked-for escape to passionate giving of thanks. Each of these epochs is exquisitely wrought in musical terms, with the music falling to the depths, only to rise insistently and ultimately triumphantly to utter transcendence and celebration.
These effects are aided by certain structural elements. The three parts of the piece each begin with an instrumental prelude, with viols specified as the instrumentation. (Note: On one of the recordings, a cornetto is used as the top voice.) These create a sort of mise en scéne against which the ensuing action plays out. In addition, although the piece looks on the page like a straightforward five-voice work (and Praetorius indicates that it was conceived with that in mind) he provides performance instructions which create several textural possiblities: Instruments alone (the preludes noted above); solo voices alone or with instruments; solo voices on some parts and instrument on others; and the big sound: Tutti voices, alone or with instruments. Underlying all of these would be the basso continuo section, which Praetorius recommends elsewhere should be if possible large and colorful.
The final of the three parts into which Praetorius has divided his setting is the most triumphant of all, concluding with an extended celebratory echo section and a grand, cosmic ‘Hallelujah!’. Here Praetorius deploys an array of the textural possibilities referred to above to great effect.
What a journey! And what a statement of faith and hope by one of the greatest composers (and greatest spirits) of all time. I am attaching herewith the score and a text-translation sheet. An excellent studio recording can be accessed via this YouTube link; and an outstanding live performance is available here.
I can't believe we've arrived at our 200th repertoire project! Our first one was on March 25, 2019, almost 17 months ago. That day I sent out the first of the Wednesday Chorales; Monday Madrigals (loosely construed) and Friday Motets (ditto) were soon added to the schedule, and here we are at a double-century. And I'm proud to say that I have not missed a single one over all this time. (A few were tardy.)
What a journey it's been! I know you all vary wildly in the number of these projects you've looked at, studied, listened to and/or sung. But it's my fervent hope that, at least at some point, everyone has gotten some fun, some brightness, some hope, some musical satisfaction, some connection to what we do from the deluge of enthusiastic commentary and musical resources I've been sending out.
I know for a fact that I have learned a lot, have discovered so much great new-to-me repertoire, and have become a better writer over this strange and challenging period. (I've also become a better cook, but that's a whole 'nother story.) And I can assure you that all this repertoire exploration will serve a longer-term purpose as well, for the best of all this repertoire will return in the context of future concerts.
Many thanks to all of you who have participated at whatever level, and for those many, many who have written to me with reactions and opinions and thanks. Every one of these messages has been a precious encouragement as I've strived (along with the amazing and indefatigable Dianna) to do what I can to hold our community together, and even to help it thrive a bit in the midst of adversity.
A special note: I have committed to myself to maintain the thrice-weekly schedule for these projects through the summer. In September, as we re-start our ensembles and begin regular rehearsals, my workload will increase. At that point, I will probably move to a once-per-week schedule, sending out a single work or collection of works which appeals to me and which I think you might enjoy. As these appear, they will be added to the some two-hundred already available on our website.
-----
And now, for today's project: On such a momentous occasion, it seems appropriate to present a special piece, and I have for you today one of my all-time favorite motets: Michael Praetorius' great setting of Psalm 116, or 'Das ist mir lieb'.
The occasion which prompted this setting of this particular psalm was indeed momentous. In 1616, Burckhard Grossman (1575-1637), a wealthy man of letters with a strong interest in music, narrowly escaped a potentially life-threatening accident. As a means of rendering thanks for his escape, he commissioned sixteen composers who were working in Saxony and Thuringia at the time to provide settings of Psalm 116, itself a passionate outcry of gratitude for deliverance from all manner of trials and troubles.
The list of composers was something of a who's who of early 17th-century German musicians, including Heinrich Schütz, Johann Hermann Schein, Michael Altenburg, Christoph Demantius, Tobias Michael, and of course our old friend M. Praetorius.
The project became deeply personal (and, again, momentous) for Praetorius. When he submitted his composition, he included a note to Grossmann expressing his belief that, as he himself was stricken by a serious illness, he expected not to live much longer, and that his Psalm 116 should be considered his swan-song. And so it proved to be.
Praetorius’ setting is deeply felt, powerful and utterly engaging. Following the psalm, Praetorius conveys in musical terms a deliverance from utter defeat which is recounted several times and at different levels. The essential motion, again originating in the psalm, is from deep pain and sorrow to unlooked-for escape to passionate giving of thanks. Each of these epochs is exquisitely wrought in musical terms, with the music falling to the depths, only to rise insistently and ultimately triumphantly to utter transcendence and celebration.
These effects are aided by certain structural elements. The three parts of the piece each begin with an instrumental prelude, with viols specified as the instrumentation. (Note: On one of the recordings, a cornetto is used as the top voice.) These create a sort of mise en scéne against which the ensuing action plays out. In addition, although the piece looks on the page like a straightforward five-voice work (and Praetorius indicates that it was conceived with that in mind) he provides performance instructions which create several textural possiblities: Instruments alone (the preludes noted above); solo voices alone or with instruments; solo voices on some parts and instrument on others; and the big sound: Tutti voices, alone or with instruments. Underlying all of these would be the basso continuo section, which Praetorius recommends elsewhere should be if possible large and colorful.
The final of the three parts into which Praetorius has divided his setting is the most triumphant of all, concluding with an extended celebratory echo section and a grand, cosmic ‘Hallelujah!’. Here Praetorius deploys an array of the textural possibilities referred to above to great effect.
What a journey! And what a statement of faith and hope by one of the greatest composers (and greatest spirits) of all time. I am attaching herewith the score and a text-translation sheet. An excellent studio recording can be accessed via this YouTube link; and an outstanding live performance is available here.