Super flumina Babylonis by Palestrina
When's the last time you listened to Palestrina?
I've been thinking about him. Until recently, I myself had not listened much to the music of the iconic 16th-century composer Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina. Sure, we've done some of his music over the years,
all of it supremely well-crafted, tight as a drum.
But do we think much about him? Do we get excited and delve into his works? Do we go on binges when we listen to Palestrina while consuming a quart of our favorite ice cream? Do we put on headphones and envelop ourselves in the sounds of his music when we need to escape or rejoice or mourn? Do we invite him to climb into our souls?
Maybe we should do these things. I am thinking that Palestrina has gotten a bad rap. He was astoundingly prolific, for one thing, and that can be overwhelming--where do you start? He is held up to us in music classes almost as a god--the 'inventor' of counterpoint, the 'savior' of sacred music. These things can be hard to live down. We almost automatically think of him as a bit of a prig, even before listening to his music.
Even the 'supremely well-crafted' aspect can be a negative. Does this guy ever go out on a limb in the service of some crazy emotion or spiritual crisis he's experiencing?
Or does he just sit on a cloud somewhere and churn out perfect music?
He didn't die young, so we can't get closer to him through tragedy. His was not a starving-in-a-garret kind of life, so we can't reach him by means of pity. And there aren't many spicy anecdotes about him, so we can't relate to him as a Bad Boy of the Renaissance.
All of this mulling has been brought on by a large project upon which I've been working. The big picture: Designing Sonoma Bach's 2021-2022 season, which we've decided to produce come heck or high water. The eight constituent pictures: Conceiving and constructing each of our productions, each with its own theme and story to tell. And among these: Our 'Sacred Realms' concert, featuring the Green Mountain Consort, a cappella, in the Church of St. Seraphim.
I began with the theme 'Book of Hours', with an idea of using two exemplars of this wonderful tradition (both by the Limbourg Brothers) to inspire the selection of pieces for the concert and to provide images illustrating the various scenes in our musical texts.
My initial idea was to develop an eclectic repertoire, drawing from many composers from the late Medieval period into the early Baroque. But something--I actually can't remember what--prompted me to investigate making the concert a so-called 'deep dive': A concert focusing on the works of a single composer.
Because we'd be going ' around the calendar' and evoking multiple scenes in the church year, it would be important for our composer to have produced a comprehensive body of motets and other works from which to choose. It would be helpful for the composer to be well-known, someone whose name might help us to attract an audience. And, since neither the theme nor the church would allow for the performance of secular music, it would be good for our composer to have focused mainly upon sacred music.
Lassus and Palestrina were the obvious choices. I did a lot of looking at and listening to the works of both composers. The point which tipped the scales was the fact that Lassus' works are almost evenly divided into the sacred and secular realms. To explore only Lassus' sacred works would be to exclude an entire side of his character. It wouldn't really be a deep dive. Palestrina, on the other hand, though he did write some madrigals, was the Prince of Sacred Music. And so, drawing a deep breath (through my face mask), I dove into the Palestrinian pool.
I've never looked back. It took some swimming around to get the lay of the land, but along the way I examined and heard a lot of incredible music. As you'll see and hear if you come to one of our March 2022 concerts, I eventually decided to focus upon several around-the-year cycles (introits and offertories), weaving selections from these in with other motets and with the great 'Missa L'Homme Armé' for five voices. I think the program demonstrates Palestrina's considerable abilities to adapt his music to an array of topics and emotions and spiritual themes, and that in several dimensions his range is far wider than he's often given credit for. It's great stuff!
To prove my point, have a look at and a listen to the wonderful motet attached. It's a setting of 'Super flumina Babylonis' ('By the river of Babylon'), and if anyone ever tells you that Palestrina can't render strong emotions in music, spin this track for him or her. It's incredible what the composer is able to do with four voices functioning in a limited range. I've laid the translation right into the score, so you can follow the famous lines as Palestrina weaves '
his harmonic and contrapuntal magic.
The recording is by the Marian Consort, a group with which I've recently become familiar,
and which I recommend to you most heartily.
When's the last time you listened to Palestrina?
I've been thinking about him. Until recently, I myself had not listened much to the music of the iconic 16th-century composer Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina. Sure, we've done some of his music over the years,
all of it supremely well-crafted, tight as a drum.
But do we think much about him? Do we get excited and delve into his works? Do we go on binges when we listen to Palestrina while consuming a quart of our favorite ice cream? Do we put on headphones and envelop ourselves in the sounds of his music when we need to escape or rejoice or mourn? Do we invite him to climb into our souls?
Maybe we should do these things. I am thinking that Palestrina has gotten a bad rap. He was astoundingly prolific, for one thing, and that can be overwhelming--where do you start? He is held up to us in music classes almost as a god--the 'inventor' of counterpoint, the 'savior' of sacred music. These things can be hard to live down. We almost automatically think of him as a bit of a prig, even before listening to his music.
Even the 'supremely well-crafted' aspect can be a negative. Does this guy ever go out on a limb in the service of some crazy emotion or spiritual crisis he's experiencing?
Or does he just sit on a cloud somewhere and churn out perfect music?
He didn't die young, so we can't get closer to him through tragedy. His was not a starving-in-a-garret kind of life, so we can't reach him by means of pity. And there aren't many spicy anecdotes about him, so we can't relate to him as a Bad Boy of the Renaissance.
All of this mulling has been brought on by a large project upon which I've been working. The big picture: Designing Sonoma Bach's 2021-2022 season, which we've decided to produce come heck or high water. The eight constituent pictures: Conceiving and constructing each of our productions, each with its own theme and story to tell. And among these: Our 'Sacred Realms' concert, featuring the Green Mountain Consort, a cappella, in the Church of St. Seraphim.
I began with the theme 'Book of Hours', with an idea of using two exemplars of this wonderful tradition (both by the Limbourg Brothers) to inspire the selection of pieces for the concert and to provide images illustrating the various scenes in our musical texts.
My initial idea was to develop an eclectic repertoire, drawing from many composers from the late Medieval period into the early Baroque. But something--I actually can't remember what--prompted me to investigate making the concert a so-called 'deep dive': A concert focusing on the works of a single composer.
Because we'd be going ' around the calendar' and evoking multiple scenes in the church year, it would be important for our composer to have produced a comprehensive body of motets and other works from which to choose. It would be helpful for the composer to be well-known, someone whose name might help us to attract an audience. And, since neither the theme nor the church would allow for the performance of secular music, it would be good for our composer to have focused mainly upon sacred music.
Lassus and Palestrina were the obvious choices. I did a lot of looking at and listening to the works of both composers. The point which tipped the scales was the fact that Lassus' works are almost evenly divided into the sacred and secular realms. To explore only Lassus' sacred works would be to exclude an entire side of his character. It wouldn't really be a deep dive. Palestrina, on the other hand, though he did write some madrigals, was the Prince of Sacred Music. And so, drawing a deep breath (through my face mask), I dove into the Palestrinian pool.
I've never looked back. It took some swimming around to get the lay of the land, but along the way I examined and heard a lot of incredible music. As you'll see and hear if you come to one of our March 2022 concerts, I eventually decided to focus upon several around-the-year cycles (introits and offertories), weaving selections from these in with other motets and with the great 'Missa L'Homme Armé' for five voices. I think the program demonstrates Palestrina's considerable abilities to adapt his music to an array of topics and emotions and spiritual themes, and that in several dimensions his range is far wider than he's often given credit for. It's great stuff!
To prove my point, have a look at and a listen to the wonderful motet attached. It's a setting of 'Super flumina Babylonis' ('By the river of Babylon'), and if anyone ever tells you that Palestrina can't render strong emotions in music, spin this track for him or her. It's incredible what the composer is able to do with four voices functioning in a limited range. I've laid the translation right into the score, so you can follow the famous lines as Palestrina weaves '
his harmonic and contrapuntal magic.
The recording is by the Marian Consort, a group with which I've recently become familiar,
and which I recommend to you most heartily.