PROGRAM NOTES
Errollyn Wallen (b. 1958)
Photography
The sentiment that there are only two kinds of music in the world—good and the other kind, encapsulates the multifaceted compositions of Errollyn Wallen, who believes “There should be room for everything, everyone—and every kind of expression.” A vocalist, dancer, and composer born in Belize and raised in London, she was educated at the universities of London and Cambridge and was the first black woman to have her work performed at the BBC Proms. Her catalog spans pop to classical. Though trained in modern art music composition, her output is imparted with tradition, which imbues the sound of her music with a sense of recollection.
In an interview with The Arts Desk in 2016, Wallen pondered this phenomenon: “Given the training I had, which was wholly serial – we just didn’t write tonal music – I’m amazed that my music is full of almost old-fashioned things. There are bits of Vaughan Williams in it – how did that happen? In Photography, though, the final movement is a conscious reference to the English pastoral tradition.”
Photography, a four-movement work commissioned by The Orchestra of the Swan in 2006, opens with an energetic spirit that drives the work with a palpable sense of forward motion. The Sinfonia No.14 (BWV 800) by J.S. Bach, her “hero,” provides the melodic material for the second movement. Its tranquility is troubled slightly as the movement closes. This sense of disturbance continues into the third movement where a fantastic array of sonic effects explodes vividly. The fourth and final movement, as Wallen notes, alludes to the pastoral with the effect of hearing the rhythms of a country dance in the distance, becoming more pronounced in the approach.
Henry Purcell (1659-1695)
Incidental Music from “The Gordian Knot Untied”
Henry Purcell lived a short life, dying suddenly at the age of thirty-six, and for the entirety of that time his career ran parallel to a remarkable period of British history. Coming from a family of musicians, he was practically born into service at court. After surviving the 1665 plague, and the Great Fire of London the following year, Purcell found himself in service to the monarch singing as a treble voice in the Chapel Royale, the King’s own private ensemble. This was notable in itself, as the Chapel Royale, having been disbanded under Oliver Cromwell, had just barely been reinstated with the restoration of the monarchy under Charles II the year after Purcell’s birth.
With his career so closely tied to the politics of the nation, Purcell’s output had to adapt and flux with any change of the sovereign. This happened three times during Purcell’s lifetime, and always proved to be a somewhat sticky undertaking. These were tumultuous years when government was a tug of war between Protestant and Catholic, rights and absolutism. After Charles II came his brother, James II. As a convert to Catholicism, James invited many continental European Catholic composers to provide music at court. Purcell made the best of it, however, focusing on his work as organist at Westminster Abbey. When the Glorious Revolution replaced James II with his Protestant daughter and son-in-law, Mary II and William III—and shifted power away from the palace toward Parliament—the Chapel Royal effectively folded (again), and Purcell shifted toward finding work composing for the theater. Therefore, the last few years of his short life were preoccupied with writing incidental music or masques (a genre closely related to opera and preferred in England). In fact, between 1690 and 1695 he would write something like forty theatrical works.
The music that Purcell provided for the staging of The Gordian Knot Untied (dramatist debated/unknown) comes from 1690. Few specifics about the production are known. Presumably, the play centered on the legend of Alexander the Great who, as part of his conquests, faced the task of untying a knot in Gordium. If he could do this, all of Asia would be his. The kicker comes with his realization it would be more efficient to simply slice the rope in half rather than bother with untangling it.
Traditional
English Fiddle Tunes, arr. Dana Lyn
What is the first song you can remember learning? Chances are high that it was some type of folk tune. These songs, passed down through the simple action of participation form a link between us and the past, and frame cultural heritage. The term “folksong” was said to be coined in the 18th century, when ideas influential in the development of linguistics and anthropology were being formed. There was a recognition of group identities, and an exploration into how those particularities are expressed and reinforced through shared recollection. Toward that, music plays a special role, because it helps us remember. As Scott Burnham eloquently put it. “Music is an art form that seems to aspire to the condition of memory…Like our perception of time, music moves toward the future, inviting us to anticipate, while also streaming into the past, inviting us to recollect.”
In our modern societies, pop music has become the folk music of today. But, over the centuries the old music still rings true whether it’s the music of gatherings (hornpipe, Shropshire Rounds, Rusted Gulley,Three-Footed Chestnut, Morpeth Rant), a tune about the simple pleasure of sitting lakeside (Lochanside), or narrative songs about the trials of communicating love (Scarborough Fair). No matter how much time passes everyone loves to hear a story, and dance.
William Walton (1902-1983)
Sonata for String Orchestra
The life of William Walton is a remarkable story of a young man from a very humble background rising to become one of the most esteemed composers in the history of English music. His name is frequently uttered in the same breath with Ralph Vaughan Williams and Benjamin Britten. But it all almost didn’t happen. The turning point in Walton’s life came when he was offered the opportunity to audition for a position as chorister at Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford. However, the night before the departure, the ticket money was lost. Borrowed funds averted the crisis, and made the trip possible, in the end.
Realizing quickly that he wanted to stay in the new echelon of society in which he found himself, he took up composing as a way to make himself less dispensable when the inevitable voice break would happen. Thankfully he had talent to match his ambition, and in the end he was admitted to Christ Church, Oxford, when he was only sixteen years old (though he would ultimately fail exams and leave without a degree). In the domino effect of opportunity, Oxford brought the wealthy and well-connected Sitwell siblings into his life, who would offer him friendship, introductions to high society and free housing for 15 years. A prominent product of this association was one of his most famous works, Façade (1922), set to the poetry of Edith Sitwell, which was his debut to the greater public. It was an avant-garde work involving a megaphone and a curtain, that humorously quoted English sea shanties, among other novelties. From this cheeky beginning, the rest of Walton’s works were more firmly rooted in traditional methods with modernist elements applied. His viola concerto from 1929 premiered with Paul Hindemith as soloist and has become an essential part of the repertory (even if Edward Elgar expressed his disapproval when Walton bumped into him in the restroom). He would also be invited to write coronation anthems for both King George VI, and later Elizabeth II.
When the second World War broke out, Walton enlisted as an ambulance driver (as did Maurice Ravel and Vaughan Williams). But, as Walton recalled for a documentary, “after I’d run it into the ditch several times they said that ‘perhaps you better not drive an ambulance.’” He was reassigned to write music for several morale boosting war films. After the war, Walton returned to working on the score of his second string quartet, which had been shelved due to the conflict. Writing to a friend, he lamented feeling slow getting back into the swing of purely creative work: “I’m in a suicidal struggle with four strings and am making no headway whatsoever. Brick walls, slit trenches…I’m afraid I’ve done film music for too long.” The string quartet would eventually be completed, and in 1971 be re-fashioned as the Sonata for String Orchestra to quickly fulfill a commission from Sir Neville Marriner for his conductorless string orchestra—The Academy of St. Martin in the Fields.
Kathryn J Allwine Bacasmot is a pianist/harpsichordist, musicologist, music and cultural critic, and freelance writer. A graduate of New England Conservatory, she writes program annotations for ensembles nationwide.
