It is my Well Beloved's Voice by Thomas Tomkins
I have a song for you today by Thomas Tomkins (1572-1656), he of the powerful setting of 'When David heard that Absalom was slain' which I sent out a few weeks ago. 'It is my well-beloved's voice' is from the same volume, the 'Songs of 3, 4, 5 and 6 Parts', published in 1622.
It's a really wonderful collection, containing everything from light ditties to expansive pieces on absolutely serious themes. Tomkins' only publication of (in the main) secular works, it is in many ways a capstone to the brief-but-intense craze for madrigals which began in England with the publication of 'Musica Transalpina' in 1588 and of 'Italian Madrigals Englished' in 1590.
Today's madrigal is actually based upon the Song of Songs, and thus could be regarded as a sacred piece; but its poetic paraphrase of Old Testament verses (not to mention Tomkins' lively setting) allows it to fit right into the scheme of the 1622 volume--essentially secular, with threads of the sacred.
It is my well-beloved's voice
that soundeth in my ear.
My heart hereat doth much rejoice
to see him draw so near.
See, O see, on yonder mountain-top,
on yon same hill so tall,
how hitherward my love doth hop,
My heart doth skip withal.
I've mentioned before that it's a nice exercise to try to suss out a composer by closely reading a text before listening to his/her setting of the same, and imagining how you might represent and amplify it in music. Using the present poem as an example: How would you suggest the sound of the well-beloved's voice? What would our protagonist's rejoicing sound like? Could you represent her lover somehow as he 'draws so near'? What about the hill, the mountain-top? The hopping, the thrilling skip of the heartbeat?
And then listen to I Fagiolini's wonderful recording of the piece, perhaps with the attached score at hand.
How did you do? Did any of your imaginings match Tomkins' actual music? Did you get the opening with women's voices only? The lover's voice echoing in her ear? The joy motive at 'doth much rejoice'? The cascade of descending lines over the slow ascent of the bass at 'to see him draw so near?
What about the rising lines on 'mountain-top' and 'hill', the octave leap on 'doth hop'? The syncopations on 'my heart doth skip withal'?
Didn't get 'em all? Neither did I! But the goal is not to 'be right'; it's to learn directly from a master. Far from book-learning, it's more like an apprenticeship with Tomkins himself, as we imagine options and possibilities, and he kindly responds, 'But what about this? Have you thought about that? Maybe this will work here. What do you think about that?'
What matters is not 'getting things right'; rather it's making a series of creative leaps and then asking for feedback from a beloved mentor, long gone but still able to inspire and suggest and motivate. What a gift!
I have a song for you today by Thomas Tomkins (1572-1656), he of the powerful setting of 'When David heard that Absalom was slain' which I sent out a few weeks ago. 'It is my well-beloved's voice' is from the same volume, the 'Songs of 3, 4, 5 and 6 Parts', published in 1622.
It's a really wonderful collection, containing everything from light ditties to expansive pieces on absolutely serious themes. Tomkins' only publication of (in the main) secular works, it is in many ways a capstone to the brief-but-intense craze for madrigals which began in England with the publication of 'Musica Transalpina' in 1588 and of 'Italian Madrigals Englished' in 1590.
Today's madrigal is actually based upon the Song of Songs, and thus could be regarded as a sacred piece; but its poetic paraphrase of Old Testament verses (not to mention Tomkins' lively setting) allows it to fit right into the scheme of the 1622 volume--essentially secular, with threads of the sacred.
It is my well-beloved's voice
that soundeth in my ear.
My heart hereat doth much rejoice
to see him draw so near.
See, O see, on yonder mountain-top,
on yon same hill so tall,
how hitherward my love doth hop,
My heart doth skip withal.
I've mentioned before that it's a nice exercise to try to suss out a composer by closely reading a text before listening to his/her setting of the same, and imagining how you might represent and amplify it in music. Using the present poem as an example: How would you suggest the sound of the well-beloved's voice? What would our protagonist's rejoicing sound like? Could you represent her lover somehow as he 'draws so near'? What about the hill, the mountain-top? The hopping, the thrilling skip of the heartbeat?
And then listen to I Fagiolini's wonderful recording of the piece, perhaps with the attached score at hand.
How did you do? Did any of your imaginings match Tomkins' actual music? Did you get the opening with women's voices only? The lover's voice echoing in her ear? The joy motive at 'doth much rejoice'? The cascade of descending lines over the slow ascent of the bass at 'to see him draw so near?
What about the rising lines on 'mountain-top' and 'hill', the octave leap on 'doth hop'? The syncopations on 'my heart doth skip withal'?
Didn't get 'em all? Neither did I! But the goal is not to 'be right'; it's to learn directly from a master. Far from book-learning, it's more like an apprenticeship with Tomkins himself, as we imagine options and possibilities, and he kindly responds, 'But what about this? Have you thought about that? Maybe this will work here. What do you think about that?'
What matters is not 'getting things right'; rather it's making a series of creative leaps and then asking for feedback from a beloved mentor, long gone but still able to inspire and suggest and motivate. What a gift!