Draw on Sweet Night by John Wilbye
I have a fabulous piece for you but, sadly, not much time. I'm already a day late with this, and have miles to go before I sleep (to coin a phrase).
But dang, do I want to share this wonderful madrigal! It's called 'Draw on, sweet night', by the inimitable (I use the word advisedly) John Wilbye. As I've mentioned before, one of the ideas moving about Europe in the 16th- and 17th-centuries was that each artist (in any field) should cultivate his/her own 'manner', a distinctive way of writing or composing or painting which reflected the artist's deepest individual self. Wilbye didn't publish that much music, but what he did publish is very much his own.
Today's madrigal is a case in point. Here's the poem, quite likely by Wilbye himself:Draw on, Sweet Night, best friend unto those cares
That do arise from painful melancholy.
My life so ill through want of comfort fares,
that unto thee I consecrate it wholly.
Sweet Night, draw on! My griefs when they be told
To shades and darkness find some ease from paining,
And while thou all in silence dost enfold,
I then shall have best time for my complaining.
This almost-reveling in sadness, and the desire to share this feeling with the night in a near-erotic fashion, along with the duality of the silent night itself and the not-so-silent protagonist--all these characteristics of the poem are extremely individual, one might say mannerist. Just wait till you hear Wilbye's music!
I did an extensive search to find the right recording, and hit the jackpot. It's by a European group new to me, Ensemble Alerion. They have recorded an entire CD of melancholic music, and of course I immediately ordered it.
Listen to the attached track along with the score, and if you have time, do something of a deep dive into the piece, listening to it several times, and lining up Wilbye's music with his words. Here he has created an absolutely sui generis work of art which follows its own rules and creates a little sound-world like no other. Within the rich six-voice voicing, the composer gives us a variety of textures, melodic shapes and harmonic characters, each one meticulously crafted to fit and to intensify each line of the poem.
What's even more wonderful is that many of Wilbye's works are similarly original. Nothing formulaic here--just deeply-felt musical interpretations of deeply-felt poetry. Wilbye certainly gives the lie to the oft-expressed opinion that the madrigal is a slight form.
Seek him out--you won't regret it.
I have a fabulous piece for you but, sadly, not much time. I'm already a day late with this, and have miles to go before I sleep (to coin a phrase).
But dang, do I want to share this wonderful madrigal! It's called 'Draw on, sweet night', by the inimitable (I use the word advisedly) John Wilbye. As I've mentioned before, one of the ideas moving about Europe in the 16th- and 17th-centuries was that each artist (in any field) should cultivate his/her own 'manner', a distinctive way of writing or composing or painting which reflected the artist's deepest individual self. Wilbye didn't publish that much music, but what he did publish is very much his own.
Today's madrigal is a case in point. Here's the poem, quite likely by Wilbye himself:Draw on, Sweet Night, best friend unto those cares
That do arise from painful melancholy.
My life so ill through want of comfort fares,
that unto thee I consecrate it wholly.
Sweet Night, draw on! My griefs when they be told
To shades and darkness find some ease from paining,
And while thou all in silence dost enfold,
I then shall have best time for my complaining.
This almost-reveling in sadness, and the desire to share this feeling with the night in a near-erotic fashion, along with the duality of the silent night itself and the not-so-silent protagonist--all these characteristics of the poem are extremely individual, one might say mannerist. Just wait till you hear Wilbye's music!
I did an extensive search to find the right recording, and hit the jackpot. It's by a European group new to me, Ensemble Alerion. They have recorded an entire CD of melancholic music, and of course I immediately ordered it.
Listen to the attached track along with the score, and if you have time, do something of a deep dive into the piece, listening to it several times, and lining up Wilbye's music with his words. Here he has created an absolutely sui generis work of art which follows its own rules and creates a little sound-world like no other. Within the rich six-voice voicing, the composer gives us a variety of textures, melodic shapes and harmonic characters, each one meticulously crafted to fit and to intensify each line of the poem.
What's even more wonderful is that many of Wilbye's works are similarly original. Nothing formulaic here--just deeply-felt musical interpretations of deeply-felt poetry. Wilbye certainly gives the lie to the oft-expressed opinion that the madrigal is a slight form.
Seek him out--you won't regret it.