Powered by ScribeFire.
Powered by ScribeFire.
Alexander Nevsky Cantata, Op. 78 (1939)
The great Russian film director Sergei Eisenstein marveled at Prokofiev's genius for film music. In the evening he would watch a series of edited takes a few times, note down the number of seconds that certain events lasted, then go off to his studio and return the next day at noon with the score of that scene perfectly attuned to the screen action. To Eisenstein, Prokofiev was capturing the inner rhythm of the film in his music. Indeed, Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky is one of those very rare occasions when a great film is accompanied by a superb score.
Alexander Nevsky is a serious film made late in the 1930s with an overt propaganda purpose: to raise the morale of the Russia populace in the likely event of a war with Germany. Eisenstein wrote a screenplay about a medieval hero, Grand Duke Alexander of Novgorod, who in 1240 (at the age of 20) had defeated a Swedish army in a battle on the River Neva (for which feat he was dubbed "Alexander of the Neva" or "Alexander Nevsky"). Two years later he defeated a large force of invading German knights in a battle on the frozen surface of Lake Chudskoye.
Though the film was motivated purely by the propaganda needs of the Soviet state, it is nonetheless one of the great achievements in the history of film, an astonishing fusion of image, dialogue, sound effects, and music. Hardly any later scene of armies in hand-to-hand combat could exist without the example of Eisenstein's great battle on the ice.
Alexander Nevsky was so urgently needed in 1938 that entire units of the Russia army were drafted to serve as extras, and the climactic battle scenes were shot during a July heat wave on a vast leveled field covered with sodium silicate to give it the appearance of ice. Soon after it was released, to unprecedented acclaim, the film was withdrawn from circulation upon the signing of the German-Soviet pact of 1939. Possibly this fact motivated Prokofiev to salvage his excellent score by turning it into a cantata for concert use. We are fortunate that he did so, for the resulting score is one of the composer's most satisfying works. Every musical cue in the film is substantially rewritten for the cantata to provide greater continuity and a clearer musical shape. Still, the sections of the cantata follow the sequence of events in Eisenstein's film. The music therefore provides a "mind's eye" illustration of the story.
Chorus of Russians:
It happened on the Neva River,
On the Neva, the great water.
There was slaughtered in the evil army,
the evil army of the Swedes.
Oh, how we fought, how we slashed!
Oh, we chopped our boats into kinding.
We did not spare our golden blood
in defense of our great Russia land.
Where the axe passed, there was a street,
where the spear flew, an alley.
We mowed down our Swedish enemies
like feather-grass on dry soil.
We shall not yield up the Russia land.
Whoever invades Russia shall be killed.
Russia has arisen against the foe;
arise for battle, glorious Novgorod!
Crusaders:
A foreigner, I expected my feet to be shod in cymbals.
Suddenly in the spring sunshine the ice of the lake cracks under the heavy armor of the mounted Germans, and most of the invading army sinks to its death in the icy waters. The battle ends with unexpected suddenness; the astonished peasants look out at what little remains of the enemy force, as the orchestra plays a poignant phrase from the fourth movement.
Crusaders:
A foreigner, I expected my feet to be shod in cymbals.
May the arms of the cross-bearers conquer!
Let the enemy perish!
O Magnum Mysterium is a responsorial chant from the Matins of Christmas. A number of composers have reworked the chant into a contemporaneous setting; the settings by Victoria, Gabrieli, Palestrina, Poulenc and Lauridsen are particularly notable. A setting by Peter Maxwell Davies was created for Cirencester Grammar School. The Lauridsen version has also been transcribed for band by H. Robert Reynolds.
Latin textThe Pavane in F-sharp minor, op. 50, is a composition for orchestra and optional chorus by the French composer Gabriel Fauré and dates from 1887. Obtaining its rhythm from the slow processional Spanish court dance of the same name, the Pavane ebbs and flows from a series of harmonic and melodic climaxes, conjuring a cool, somewhat haunting, Belle Époque elegance. The piece is scored for only modest orchestral forces consisting of strings and one pair each of flutes, oboes, clarinets, bassoons, and horns. A typical performance lasts around seven minutes.
When Fauré began work on the Pavane, he envisaged a purely orchestral work to be played at a series of light summer concerts conducted by Jules Danbe. After Fauré opted to dedicate the work to his patron, Countess Élisabeth Greffulhe, he felt compelled to stage a grander affair and thus he added an invisible chorus to accompany the orchestra (with additional allowance for dancers). The choral lyrics were based on some inconsequential verses, à la Verlaine, on the romantic helplessness of man, which had been contributed by the Countess' cousin, Robert de Montesquiou-Fezensac.
The orchestral version was first performed at a Concert Lamoureux under the baton of Charles Lamoureux on November 25, 1888. Three days later, the choral version was premiered at a concert of the Société Nationale de Musique. In 1891, the Countess finally helped Fauré produce the version with both dancers and chorus, in a "choreographic spectacle" designed to grace one of her garden parties in the Bois de Boulogne.
From the outset, the Pavane has enjoyed immense popularity, whether with or without chorus. It entered the standard repertoire of the Ballets Russes in 1917, where it was alternatively billed as Las Mininas or Les Jardins d'Aranjuez. Fauré's example was imitated by his pupils, who went on to write pavanes of their own: Ravel's Pavane pour une infante défunte and Debussy's Passepied from his Suite bergamasque.
Click to see more
So you want to write a fugue?
You've got the urge to write a fugue,
You've got the nerve to write a fugue.
So go ahead and write fugue.
You've got the nerve to write a fugue.
So come along and write a fugue.
Go ahead, write a fugue.
Oh, come along and write a fugue that we can sing.
Go ahead; write a fugue that we can sing.
Write a good fugue, one that we can sing.
And write a good fugue, one that we can sing.
Come along; write a fugue that we can sing.
Write a good fugue, one that we can sing.
Come, write a fugue, come write a fugue for singing.
Come, write a fugue, come along and write a fugue for singing.
Come, write a good fugue.
Give no mind to what we've told you.
Give no heed to what we've told you.
Pay no mind to what we've told you.
Just forget all that we've told you and the theory that you've read.
Pay no mind; give no heed to what we've told you.
Oh, give no mind to what we've said.
For the only way to write one is to plunge right in and write one.
So just forget the rules and write one.
Have a try, have a try, have a try.
Plunge right in, have a try. Try to write one.
Yes, try to write fugue.
Have a try, plunge right in and write one.
Yes, write a fugue that we can sing.
Yes, just forget all that we've told you.
For the only way to write one is to plunge right in and write one.
Yes, plunge right in, have a try.
Oh yes!
Why don't you?
Why don't you write a fugue?
For the only way to write one is to plunge right in and write one.
Just ignore the rules and try.
And the fun of it will get you,
And the joy of it will fetch you,
It's a pleasure that is bound to satisfy, so why don't you try?.
For the only way to write one is to plunge right in.
And the fun of it will get you,
And the joy of it will fetch you.
You'll decide that John Sebastian must have been a very personable guy.
But never be clever for the sake of being clever,
For a canon in inversion is a dangerous diversion.
And a bit of augmentation is a serious temptation,
While a stretto diminution is an obvious solution,
While a stretto, stretto, stretto diminution is a very, very obvious
solution.
So never be clever for the sake of being clever, for the sake of showing
off.
Never be clever for the sake of showing off!
So you want to write a fugue?
But never be clever for the sake of showing off.
You've got the urge to write a fugue. You've got the nerve to write a
fugue.
So go ahead and try to write one, try to write one.
No, never be clever for the sake of being clever.
But do try to write a fugue that we can sing.
Write us a good fugue, one that we can sing.
Oh, come and try.
Oh, why don't you try?
Oh, won't you try and write one we can sing.
So write a fugue that we can sing.
Now, why don't you try to write one?
Yes, come, let's try.
Write us a fugue that we can sing. Now come along.
It's rather awesome, isn't it?
And when you've finished writing it I think you'll find a great joy in it.
(Hope so.)
Well, nothing ventured nothing gained, they say.
But still it is rather hard to start.
Well?
Let us try.
Right now?
Yes. Why not?
Now we're going to write a fugue.
We're going to write a good one.
We're going to write a fugue
right now.
powered by performancing firefox
