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Sequentia, from Choralis Constantinus

HENRICUS ISAAC

Born ca. 1450–55 in Flanders or Brabant

Died March 26, 1517 in Florence

Isaac was a prominent member of a group of Franco-Flemish musicians, including Josquin des Prez, Jacob Obrecht, Pierre de La Rue and Alexander Agricola, who achieved international fame in the decades around 1500, influencing the Italian and European Renaissance. Nothing is known of Isaac’s social background and youth, though his general education seems to have been excellent, given that he was a layman and apparently did not attend a university. He was an accomplished composer by the mid-1470’s and by July 1485, Isaac was employed as one of the singers at the baptistry of S Giovanni in Florence, who also served Florence Cathedral and SS Annunziata (the Servite friary).

Isaac was in Florence in the Autumn of 1502 at the Este court of Ferrara, where he hoped to be employed. Josquin des Prez was chosen instead. Isaac stayed in Konstanz, perhaps with interruptions, from early 1505 until at least April 14, 1508, when the cathedral chapter commissioned the Choralis Constantinus from him. By 1514 Isaac was in Innsbruck but in 1515 was allowed to live permanently in Florence while continuing to receive a salary, probably for compositions including parts I and III of the Choralis Constantinus.

The significance of Isaac’s major work, Choralis Constantinus, is defined as the only comprehensive annual cycle of Proporium de Tempore that have survived between those of the Notre Dame composers and William Byrd. This was to be the first major setting of the Propers since Leonin and Perotin's Magnus liber organi in the 12th and 13th centuries and is a monumental work, published in an edition by Ludwig Senfl, Isaac's student. The three books are settings of the proper of the day mass for Sundays and major feast days The complete set of three works contain a total of 47 sequences, several of which are longer than the sum of all the other movements of the offices included within them.

Sequences take place after the Gradual in the Proporium de Tempore, a functional but imprecise term often used to describe the texts of the Proper of the Mass, namely Introit, Gradual, Alleluia, Sequence, Tract, Offertory and Communion. Composers throughout time have taken Sequence melodies and varied them significantly, particularly the Dies Irae from the Requiem mass. Today’s performance of Isaac’s Sequentia is an adaptation for string quartet. Other popular adaptations have been used in works as well-known as Liszt’s Totentanz, Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances and even works in popular culture such as the opening music to Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining, Stephen Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd and also in the musical Rent, Dies irae dies illa Kyrie eleison Yitgadal v'yitkadash is sung. The Sequences of Isaac would be no different from how he used a chant set polyphonically in the other parts of the Mass, perhaps as a cantus firmus in one voice or another, and then moving it from place to place.

The Brahms Cylinders of 1889

In the mid 1990’s, Stanford’s Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics released some groundbreaking information to the public about a genuine recording of Johannes Brahms playing his own works on a wax cylinder from 1889. Or, was it?

Jonathan Berger began work on his Brahms project at Yale, where he was a founding director of the Center for Studies in Music Technology before coming to Stanford. Archivist Richard Warner had set him on a quest to unearth the music in an acetate LP transferred from a wax cylinder recording. One musicologist described it as so noisy that “any musical value heard can be charitably described as the product of a pathological imagination.” Most listeners could not tell that a piano was playing. Various attempts to filter and enhance the recording had yielded nothing of musicological significance. Berger’s challenge was to separate out the noise, then digitally represent the music, staying true to the original.

For Berger, the results of his analysis were surprising. While not perfect or musically pleasing—the fidelity was low and the sound gritty—the excavated performance revealed some surprises about how Brahms interpreted his own music. He improvised.

The reception to the original cylinder and the selected restored version has been met with mixed impressions. When he published his findings, Berger received hate mail. Music restoration is as controversial a pursuit as art restoration. One of the problems with the Brahms recording is that it begins at measure thirteen, a harmonically unsettled moment. Berger had to use his analysis of the available fragment to extrapolate what the entire composition would have sounded like.

More significantly, the spoken text at the start of the cylinder recording has been wrongly attributed as belonging to Brahms. Numerous writers, scholars and amateurs have speculated that Brahms introduces himself with the words "I am Doctor Brahms, Johannes Brahms". However a number of factors raise serious doubts as to who is speaking. The only mention of the recording by someone who was present (in the published memoires of Fellinger's son) states that Brahms was introduced. Considering the time between the announcement and the start of the music it seems improbable that the same person could segue from speech to playing so quickly particularly given the technological limitations.
The denoised excerpt reveals enough of the speech to suggest that the speaker (most likely Wangemann) introduces Brahms as follows:

"...Dezember Achtzehnhundertachtundneunzig. Haus von Herrn Doktor Fellinger, bei mir ist Doktor Brahms, Johannes Brahms".

and is translated to "...December Eighteen Hundred Eighty Nine. House of Mr. Fellinger, with me is Doctor Brahms, Johannes Brahms."

Here is a link to Dr. Berger’s original Bose acetate cylinder, with no restoration to the sound at all:

https://ccrma.stanford.edu/groups/edison/brahms/ex1.wav

And here is a link to one of the restored versions. This version has had many layers of distortion removed. The cylinder itself had layers of debris removed with a fine brush even before years of sensitive denoising techniques were employed to create this particular audio file, however, it does not contain a midi overlay. Some do this to clarify the piano playing by playing along with it in unison to demonstrate the speed and style of playing. This example, in my opinion, is the clearest and most pure restoration.

https://ccrma.stanford.edu/groups/edison/brahms/ex3.wav

Are they genuine?

This was a hotly debated topic 15 years ago. My take on it, in brief, is that the recordings are real, but they are probably not exactly what popular opinion is leaning towards. First of all, Brahms would never have introduced himself, or had himself introduced as “Dr” Brahms, because he never held or used that title. It may indeed be Wangemann introducing the music on the cylinder, but only if it is Brahms.

Considering the actual music played on this cylinder, I don’t find evidence that it is Brahms playing. Shortly prior to this, he had premiered his own Piano Concerto. Playing ( not to mention composing) at that level of proficiency requires a lot of accuracy and consistency. The player on this cylinder deviates very far from the printed music as we know it today – so far a deviation, that it seems too unlikely to be Brahms. The wrong notes, far strays from the meter and rhythm, suggest that either Brahms was devoted to far-reaching improvisation, or simply that someone else was playing.

Making a cylinder in 1889 was a project. While it probably isn’t a rank amateur attempt, and was very likely recorded at the home of Dr. Fellinger, my best estimation is that this is most likely an amateur recording made at the hand of a wealthy friend of Dr. Fellinger, who was pretending to appear like Brahms. If that scenario is true, it would not be as fantastic a discovery as Brahms playing, but would still be collectible as an authentic piece of history for Edison cylinder aficionados.

Präludium, Fuge und Allegro in E-flat major, BWV 998

JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH

Born March 21, 1685 in Eisenach

Died July 28, 1750 in Leipzig

It is so much believed that Johann Sebastian Bach was the pinnacle of the High Baroque, that it is generally accepted that this era in music history ended with his death in 1750. His output of compositions was huge, numbering well over 1000 pieces, and his style and techniques served as models for every future generation of composers. He learned his trade in much the same way as other composers, by voraciously reading, studying, copying and arranging the works of his predecessors and contemporaries. Bach often arranged the work of others to suit his needs, and therefore it is natural that his composition should be arranged for a different group of instruments than originally written. His choral compositions are easily chronicled as they were written for specific occasions. The keyboard works, on the other hand, are not as easily catalogued. His early works, in particular, often survive only in copies made by his students, and therefore few autograph scores are extant. During his Weimar period, Bach often tested the relevance of other instrumental genres for keyboard.

Bach’s Prelude Fugue and Allegro was composed in the mid-to-late 1740’s, based on the watermark analysis, which bears a strong resemblance to several other late compositions, among them the C minor Lute Suite BWV 997. His choice of instrument and the history of its editions, however are not so simple. The work seems to have been conceived as a work for the lute, given its slow-moving bass and relatively thin texture. It is very unlikely that this was composed with a lute in hand given the many awkward and uncomfortable fingerings. Bach specified that the work was composed pour la Luth ò Cèmbal, but while he preferred the lute-like sound of the cembalo, it was most likely meant to imitate the timbre of the lute but composed on an instrument he had full command of.

The setting of the key in E-flat major has shown a surprising evolution since the 1740’s. During the 18^th-19^th century, performance practices gravitated to keeping it on a lute. Playing on what was then an evolving six-string guitar in E-flat was and is still difficult for a short, lesser work. In the 19^th century, modern guitarists began publishing editions in D-major, rendering it accessible to most guitarists of some, but nonetheless high level of proficiency. It was still highly challenging, but nothing that was even close to the original E-flat. The choice of which key to play this piece in the 21^st century depends upon many historical and stylistic preferences of the player. An even more significant factor is what may be called the “Pitch Topography” of the instrument and key of choice. This issue takes into account how any instrument relies on the overtone series or emphasis of certain partials to establish their individual color, in combination with where the notes lay on the physical instrument itself. In this work, the choice of lute versus guitar, and the option of two keys provide the player with four distinct interpretations to present the work in its entirety. There is also a fifth option as a keyboard player, (as used in today’s examples) to play the work in two clefs shown on the extant manuscript for cembalo by the composer.

The first phrase of the opening Prelude is one of the most precarious upbeat statements in today’s guitar literature. Choosing the tempo and dynamics at the start is crucial to the forward motion of the piece, and varies greatly from player to player.

Brisé harmony, measure 2

The Prelude confirms the metric pulse and style brisé which was so popular throughout Europe in the Baroque era. This style featuring elongated, ringing chords is much more technically challenging with the pitch topography of the choice of E-flat major on a modern, 6-string guitar heard in today’s performance.

Fuga melody, measures 1-2

The Fugue of BWV 998 provides an unfaltering show of the theme throughout the movement, with a most perfect construction, singability and beauty. It appears in the obvious statements as well the in the longer lines where it may be less audible, but is unfailingly consistent. The Fugue also serves as its own recapitulation and coda. The concluding Allegro uses a slight staccato technique throughout to bring out a separation of the parts, employing very tiny elements of the Prelude to connect the work as a whole.