The Liturgical Church Music of Kenneth Leighton, Part 1

Guelph, and Agincourt Collegiate Institute, Toronto, Ontario. In addition, he served as organist of St. John's Cathedral, Winnipeg, Manitoba, and St. George's Church, Guelph.
In 2003, Scarecrow Press published his book British Organ Music of the Twentieth Century. Over the last two and a half years he has been writing a monograph on the life and music of Kenneth Leighton, which will probably be finished sometime this year. Dr. Hardwick has written feature articles and numerous reviews of recordings and organ music for The Diapason.

Works of the 1970s

The title of the ten-minute The Second Service
style='font-weight:normal;font-style:normal'>, Op. 62 (1971) is puzzling, for
there is no known first service, unless one counts the Magnificat
style='font-style:normal'> and Nunc Dimittis
style='font-style:normal'> (Collegium Magdalenae Oxoniense) of 1959. If this is
the case, then surely opus 62 should be titled The Second Evening
Service, since it consists only of settings
of the two evening canticles. The title is an enigma, but it is clear that the
work is packed with attractive ideas that are convincingly developed. It is a
staple of cathedral and major churches’ repertories.

The soft, intimate opening for trebles and manuals-only
organ accompaniment is perhaps reminiscent of the beginning of Howells’
famous Magnificat in his Collegium
Regale (1945). Like Howells, Leighton leads
from the single boys’ line at the outset to polyphonic imitation, and the
vocal lines are, like the older man’s, slow, melismatic, and
plainsong-like. Leighton’s organ accompaniment of ostinato figures
involving cluster chords sets an intimate reflective tone that is very
appropriate in an “In memoriam” work.16 A lengthy section that
begins with “For he that is mighty” follows this. Here, the
organ’s accompaniment of short, dancing, staccatissimo motifs stand in
sharp contrast to the choir’s bold, more legato, chordal declamation of
the text. During the development in this section, there are instances of
Leighton’s characteristic writing in octaves for the whole choir, and he
also uses the two-part texture that he liked, with soprano and tenor sections
singing the same an octave apart, and altos and basses the other part in
octaves. A calmer mood is introduced at “He remembering his mercy,”
with the choir singing imitative counterpoint that is lyrical and legato, while
the organ, as a counterbalance, provides faster moving, syncopated, rhythmic
motifs that are frequently repeated before being relinquished. The setting of
“Glory be to the Father” contains strong reminiscences of the music
with which the movement began, music that has not been heard since the start.
Following the choir’s a cappella, hushed, mysterious close on C-sharp
major, the organ has the last word in a series of rich, intense repeated
dissonant chords alternating with C-sharp chords.

Marked Molto lento e sostenuto, the organ’s opening of the Nunc Dimittis
style='font-style:normal'> parallels the atmospheric, mysterious mood of the
start of the Magnificat. Again,
there are ostinato figures in the organ accompaniment, as in bars 10-13,
where the ostinato is in the manuals over a pedal point. (Example 6)

The choir, at first hesitant and somewhat aimless, gradually
begins to gather momentum towards the first of the movement’s two
climaxes, at “To be a light to lighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory
of thy people Israel.” In this passage, there is an increase of energy
and volume, and the voices sound more emphatic, due in part to their pairing
off--sopranos and tenors singing the same music in octaves, and,
simultaneously, altos and basses in octaves. The word “glory”
erupts joyfully in florid lines, followed by the voices coming together with
short repeated tones on an A major chords for “Israel.” (Example 7)
The Gloria Patri is reminiscent of the calm, mystical mood of the setting of
Gloria in the Magnificat, but is
shorter. Astringent harmony pervades the soft closing three-fold
“Amen,” but there is peace at the last when the voices finally
settle on an F major chord, and the organ echoes this tonality in a deep,
low-pitched, enchanting whisper.

The ten-minute Awake My Glory
style='font-weight:normal;font-style:normal'>, Op. 79 (1979), for soprano
soloist, SATB choir, and organ, is Leighton’s longest anthem. St.
Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral, Edinburgh, commissioned the work for a
concert in the Cathedral on October 3, 1979, as part of the institution’s
centenary celebrations.17 Since the composer was a member of the congregation
of St. Mary’s, this must have been a particularly special assignment for
him personally, and he responded with an inspired work that is replete with
felicitous eloquence and deeply moving mysticism. The first performance was
give by the Cathedral Choir under the composer’s direction and
accompanied on the organ by his friend, the cathedral’s organist, Dennis
Townhill.18

Awake My Glory falls
into the multi-section, through-composed form of which Leighton is so fond.
Though the excerpt he set to music from the poem On the Eternity of
the Supreme Being (1750) by Christopher
Smart contains no palpably religious references, one might safely infer that
the poet had God in mind in such phrases as “My fellow subjects of the
eternal King,” and “Confess his Presence and report his
praise.” There is also a spiritual ambiance running through the verse.
However, Smart is mainly concerned with depicting dawn and the awakening of the
animals in the countryside, which he does fluently and with great joy. Leighton
is, as usual, extremely responsive to the text, and writes music that is
appropriately graphic--sometimes quite madrigalian, in fact--and
atmospheric.

The composition opens with a lengthy organ prelude depicting
night. Low-pitched, rhythmically vague shifting chords become increasingly
active and loud. This musical impression of dawn’s initial glimmer ushers
in the first of a series of imitative contrapuntal choral sections that occupy
the first half of the work. In the initial polyphonic choral section, the
voices, like heraldic fanfare trumpeters, sing out the words “Awake my
glory” to a rapid ascending motif whose energetic rhythm and melodic
contour are quite Bachian. The voices and organ grow in emotional intensity,
dynamics, and contrapuntal activity, and finally coalesce in a last ecstatic
chordal presentation of “Awake my glory,” after which the music
gradually subsides and comes to a peaceful close.

The ensuing section, marked Molto allegro e leggiero
style='font-style:normal'>, is based on a languorous lyrical setting of the
words “Soon as the stately, night-exploding bird,” accompanied on
the organ by a very dry, bird-like, twittering that is developed along very
similar lines to the first section. Momentum increases little by little as the
poet declares, “List ye! how nature with ten thousand tongues, Begins the
glad thanksgiving,” and joyous choral melismas ring out on the word
“welcome” in the setting of the phrase “In lively lay, sings
welcome to the dawn.”

Various musical techniques are used to unify this work.
Cohesion is achieved through the use, in each of the major sections, of a
constantly evolving motif in the manuals part of the organ accompaniment. This
may be illustrated in a central section of the work, in which the ground swell
of bird song at the words “welcome to the dawn” is described. A
rhythmic eighth-note ostinato motif is introduced at bar 127 in the organ part.
(Example 8) This figure is repeated, and, with each repetition, is exposed to
variation treatment.

At last, the grand fortississimo apotheosis is reached in an
exuberant cacophony of vocal and organ sound at the words “My fellow
subjects of the eternal King, I gladly join your matins and with you Confess
his Presence and report his praise.” (Example 9) Returning to the opening
words of the anthem at the end also has a unifying effect. The choir sings with
pleasure mixed with overtones of sadness the text with which the work began,
“Awake my glory,” after which the organ, alone, cadences on a
simple C major chord.

Last Masses

Between 1972 and Leighton’s death in 1988, five more
Masses were written: The Sarum Mass, Op.
66 (1972), Mass for Ampleforth,
Op. 67 (1973), Missa Cornelia,
Op. 81 (1979), Missa Sancti Petri
(1987), and Missa Christi (1988).
All, except Mass for Ampleforth,
are English settings, and none is longer than fifteen minutes.

Missa Sancti Petri, for SATB choir, soprano, tenor, and bass soloists,
and organ, is a setting of words from the Church of England’s Anglican
Liturgy Rite B, and requires performers of a high caliber.

The Kyrie Eleison,
probably one of the composer’s most sublime religious pieces, resonates
with the human’s feelings of prayerfulness and utter awe as he requests
Christ’s mercy for his sins. Choral imitation and linear counterpoint
provide a dense eerie texture of complex, sonorous sound, that is constantly
sparking with flashes of transient dissonances, while the organ accompanies
with a foundation of supporting rhythmic motivic interjections and sustained
chords. As well as obeisance and reverential wonder, the mood is also one of
uneasiness, almost of agony, which is injected into the music partly through
the syncopations, including Scotch snap rhythms. The rhythmic freedom, together
with the gently undulating, lyrical vocal lines, is reminiscent of medieval
plainsong, especially the two highly melismatic solo tenor phrases, marked Più
calma, un po’ liberamente, that rise
and fall over sustained organ chords. The movement ends with references to the
melodic idea with which the movement began.

The Gloria in Excelsis Deo is through composed, and divided into clearly marked contrasting
sections. In order to create a sense of homogeneity in this long movement,
Leighton engineers a certain amount of unity by means of repeated bass patterns
in the organ accompaniment that frequently undergo metamorphosis, and are
usually accompaniments for passages of choral imitative counterpoint. For
instance, cohesion is provided in the brilliant, majestic, fortissimo opening
setting of the words “Glory to God on high,” by the organ’s
four-note, conjunct-motion, descending pattern that is never repeated at the
same pitch.

The setting of the next lines of text, beginning with
“We praise thee, we worship thee,” is similar, and equally
sparkling. The vivacious, fanfare-like, and highly ornamented choral melodic
idea is set in imitative contrapuntal style, supported by an organ part that
not only has a repeated, ever-changing descending pedal pattern, but also a
motif that is treated imitatively for the manuals. As the section draws to a
close, the densely textured counterpoint is reduced to a two-part, canon-like,
6/8, lilting stretto, between sopranos and tenors singing simultaneously the
same line in octaves, and the altos and basses singing the other line in
octaves, while the organ articulates bold cluster chords in syncopated duple
meter. The section ends with the voices and organ finally coalescing on a
sustained chord on the last word of “For thy great glory.”

“For thou only art holy” is set as a peaceful
and quiet a cappella two-voice canon for
sopranos. This brief moment of quiet reflection is short-lived, and the final
cataclysmic buildup to the Gloria’s end begins.

The surge to the final climax is inaugurated by the choir,
which sings out happily “Thou only O Christ, with the Holy Ghost art most
high” in imitative counterpoint, over an organ part that is reminiscent
of the accompaniment to the setting of “We praise thee, we worship
thee” earlier in the movement. Over heavy sustained organ cluster chords,
the choral “Amen” is set in complex imitative counterpoint, based
on a motif that opens with reminiscences of the idea with which the Kyrie
Eleison movement started.

There is a return to the swinging, 6/8 melodic idea heard
previously at the opening of the Gloria for the Sanctus section of the third
movement. The start consists of a brilliant choral passage in imitative
polyphonic style, with a flamboyant organ accompaniment. The cut and thrust of
this imitative linear counterpoint continues with a new melodic idea in the
setting of “Glory be to thee, O Lord most high.” While the voices
weave a tapestry of cogently argued counterpoint, the organ has a contrapuntal
part based on an oscillating sixteenth note figure. This energetic hustle and
bustle of choral and organ sound eventually comes to a halt on an extremely
acrid cluster chord, followed by a general pause.

The extreme mental anguish and pain in the setting of the
first part of the Agnus Dei, “O
lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world,” may call to mind the
morbidity of the composer’s Crucifixus Pro Nobis
style='font-style:normal'>, Op. 38 (1961), especially the “Christ in His
Passion” movement of that work. In any case, both the Agnus Dei
style='font-style:normal'> text from this Mass and the “Christ in His Passion”
words of the earlier composition, deal with Christ’s sacrifice on the
cross as the expiation for the Christians’ sins. However, the dissonances
in the Agnus Dei are even more
searingly acrid than in the cantata movement. In particular, one might note the
composer’s use of some of his favorite dissonances: simultaneous seconds,
and augmented fourths and diminished fifths. Anguish and pain felt by Christ on
the cross, and by grieving witnesses of his fate, are expressed in the angular,
awkward vocal lines, notably the ascending major and minor seventh leaps.
Clearly, this expresses gravely troubling feelings about human sin. The anxiety
expressed here perhaps also reflects a facet of the personality of the
composer, for, although usually a very positive kind of person, he suffered
extreme bouts of depression on several occasions during his life, and
throughout his career made excessively high demands of himself as a composer.19
Rejoicing, Leighton reaches the high ground of salvation and confidence in the
final section, “Grant us they peace.” Here, the dissonances of the
tenor solo are disturbing, but there is relative calm in the choral writing,
and, after the voices have finished, the organ’s final three sustained
chords of A-flat major, F major, and D major leave one calm and optimistic.
Leighton’s enduring affection for writing church music, and his
outstanding gifts in the field, are

reflected marvelously in these closing pages of movingly
beautiful, ethereal music.   

In the Three Motets of Serenity 2000), Nine Marian Anthems,and Five Motets in Honour of the Trinity (composed 2000; both still manuscripts), Mawby expresses more overtly than usual a deeply felt nostalgia for the earlier part of his life.31 The quoting of plainsong and composing chant-like melodies suggest his retrospective mood. Another clue is that all these works are a cappella settings of traditional Latin texts, the four-part mixed choir frequently dividing, sometimes into as many as eight parts. The Nine Marian Anthems and Five Motets in Honour of the Trinity  are written for specified days of the Catholic Church's Year, but the Three Motets of Serenity may be performed on any occasion deemed appropriate.

The Three Motets of Serenity are dedicated to the memory of Cardinal John Heenan, Archbishop of Westminster between 1963 and 1975, a period that coincided with most of Mawby's tenure of the Master of the Music position there. For SSAATTBB choir, they are based on three of Mawby's favorite plainsong tunes, which he describes as "superb, evocative and compelling [and] . . . central to the motets."32 In performance they should be treated as serene "musical prayer[s]," should sound unrushed, and display a chant-like meditative quality.33

Organ Music

Mawby had written no organ solos by the age of fifty-five, but Kevin Mayhew had a hunch that there was an as yet untapped vein of talent in that direction in the composer, and offered to publish any that he might care to produce. He had a strong background in organ, having been a fine organist as a boy, and, as was noted earlier, had majored in the instrument at the Royal College of Music. During the years as a church musician he had, on occasions, played for services, and had written many choral works with organ accompaniments. Thus it is not surprising that Mayhew's insight proved correct. What was unexpected was the heavy flow of pieces that poured from Mawby's pen once he started in 1991.

Unique among English organ composers, Mawby has written almost exclusively for church services.34 This may be explained by the role the instrument has played in his life. When he worked for the Roman Catholic Church, he occasionally performed on the organ, but primarily he was a choirmaster, and assistants usually played the instrument. Thus, he tends to see the instrument as a major adjunct to worship, as the provider of accompaniments for vocal music, the creator of "walking music," the furnisher of music to fill awkward silences, and generally supply background music at appropriate mo-ments in services. At the same time, though, he appreciates and values highly the traditional solo repertoire of the instrument. "Organ music," he says, "has a unique power which can move people deeply."35

The scores indicate that he thinks, broadly, in terms of a traditional large, four-manual, Romantic, orchestral instrument, such as the one built between the World Wars by Henry Willis at Westminster Cathedral.36 At least one enclosed division is necessary for the execution of the crescendos and diminuendos that are a part of Mawby's style. There should also be a supply of accessories, in order to realize the occasional terrace dynamics, the gradual orchestral-style piling up of power, and various other dynamic fluctuations within a piece. He quite regularly marks melodies to be soloed, without usually specifying specific stops. The one exception is that he sometimes marks entries of the tuba at climactic moments, a reflection of his lifelong love of the sound of the tuba at Westminster which is sui generis, a rank on thirty inches wind with an agreeable rasp about it, a sort of "edge." In the tradition of early 20th-century English organ composers,37 in loud passages he will sometimes call for a tuba solo in the tenor register in the left hand to roar out within a texture provided by the pedal and right hand. Less frequently, the tuba is given a soprano solo or plays chordal fanfare phrases.

Very prominent in his organ music are verbatim fragments of plainsong melodies or plainsong-like themes and phrases. This reflects his fondness for plainsong that he has felt ever since he sang the ancient chants for the first time at the age of nine.38 His organ works are usually between two to four pages in length, and are for performance by average to good church organists. Homophonic textures are the norm, as is the developing of material in a free, improvisatory manner that usually does not conform to one of the traditional organ forms. His music is almost completely free of the influence of the major organ composers past or present. Thus, there are no preludes and fugues, passacaglias, or sonatas, and hardly any of the other types of pieces favored by organists, such as toccatas, scherzos, intermezzi, and arias. Most of his pieces have been inspired by sacred texts or images, or have been written for situations in church services where organ music is useful, such as processionals, recessionals, and, as noted above, music to fill awkward silences during the service.

The first works, Quiet-Time: Fifteen Interludes for Organ (1991), follow, at least in spirit if not musical details, down the path blazed by his friend, Gregory Murray, in his monumental seven-volume collection of Short Organ Interludes for Liturgical Use (published between 1935 and 1987).39 Mawby's miniatures are untitled except for being numbered, are printed on two staves for an organ with two manuals and pedal, and employ modality, and plainsong or pseudo plainsong mel-odies. One may see an indication of Mawby's future mature organ style in the spirituality of the Quiet-Time interludes, but the pieces occasionally lack the flow and sense of inevitability that surrounds the better pieces that were written later.  Chords frequently fluctuate from four to five and six parts and sometimes more. Dissonances are frequent, quite often being those created by seventh and ninth chords, added seconds, and voice leading that is not always concerned with consonant vertical alignments.

With the trilogy Gregorian Calendar: Thirty Contrasting Pieces for Organ Based on Plainsong Melodies (1993), Gregorian Communion:  Twenty Pieces for Organ Based on Plainsong Melodies (1995), and Gregorian Processionals:  Twenty Pieces for Organ Based on Plainsong Melodies (1996) Mawby supplied a large collection of pieces for the organ in its role as a major adjunct to worship.

Gregorian Calendar comprises works of between two and four pages length for use throughout the liturgical year. Each season has one loud and one soft voluntary, and six shorter pieces for general use are attached at the end of the book. In the Foreword, Mawby says "the chant's rich variety of moods and modes [provided] a generous reference point from which to explore the inherent prayerfulness of the music." Entire Gregorian melodies are used as the basis of some pieces. Others, like the composition based on the All Saints Day plainsong Placare Christe Servulis, are built from one or more Gregorian fragments.

Placare Christe Servulis is developed from the first six tones of the chant. At the outset, the pentatonic plainsong fragment, set in 7/8 time, is enunciated four times, unaccompanied, in the rich soprano register of the tuba, and thereafter reappears periodically throughout the work, each statement being regenerated by some type of transformation. Characteristic of many of Mawby's organ pieces, in Placare Christe Servulis he writes what appears to be a newly-composed melody that is, in fact, derived from the plainsong motif introduced in bar one. Example 8 shows a version of this tune in the right hand part at bars 28-31. Reflecting the unmetered nature of plainsong, the main meter of 7/8, which Mawby usually divided in eighth notes as follows:  3 + 2 + 2 (see bars 32-33), is disturbed by regular changes of time signature, thus disrupting any lengthy impression of metric rhythm. This allows the plainsong style to pervade the piece, and also enervates the forward thrust of the music because it is rhythmically unpredictable. The triads are often larded with seconds and sevenths, less frequently ninths (bar 31), and, occasionally, elevenths (bars 32-33). These added tones create a different acoustical dimension from conventional triadic harmony, a more dissonant accompanimental foundation for his tunes. The off the cuff patchwork of contrasting ideas in Placare Christe Servulis, often heard over pedal points, suggests that the work was originally improvised and then written down.

The methods of Gregorian Calendar continued in Gregorian Communion  and Gregorian Processionals. This may be seen, for instance, in the dreamy improvisational chorale prelude on Adore te devote in Gregorian Communion. Although soloed statements of the opening line of the plainsong are heard near the beginning, and there is a presentation of the second half of the hymn tune near the end, the focus of Mawby's interest is in subtly weaving short phrases of the Gregorian melody into the delicately meandering, dreamy harmonies.  The essence of his use of ancient chants is that he likes one to hear snatches of motifs derived from the original theme, but only rarely quotes them unchanged and entirely. The accompanying left hand and pedal parts of the Adore te devote setting are concordant with the right hand much of the time, but extremely strident cluster chords occasionally result when preeminence is given to the horizontal movement of the parts.

With Hymns for Occasions for Manuals (One Hundred Special Arrangements) and More Hymns for Occasions for Manuals (One Hundred Special Arrangements) (both 1997) Mawby joined the ranks of such 20th-century English composers as Tertius Noble, Edward Bairstow, Eric Thiman, Henry Coleman, Harrison Oxley, Richard Lloyd, and Noel Rawsthorne, all of whom have contributed collections of varied keyboard accompaniments to hymn tunes sung by a church congregation. The above long list of composers suggests that the field was already crowded before Mawby added his arrangements, but some of the earlier collections were hardly usable because they never rose above the mundane and, by the 1990s, others had become old-fashioned.

Furthermore, Mawby's are different from the collections by the men listed above in that he provides more than simply a single varied accompaniment for each hymn. Each starts with an introduction for organ solo that captures the mood of the words and melody of the hymn, and this leads without break into two organ accompaniments for the congregational singing, the first a standard harmonization of the hymn tune, with first ending, marked dal segno, for repeating the same music for more verses, the second ending leading into the last verse, which is a more complex harmonization. Dovetailed into the end of the hymn proper is a concluding flourish of a few bars for the keyboard alone that is often a development of the introduction material. The organist chooses all or part of each arrangement as befits the occasion.

Much of the harmony is conventional four-part hymn style, but the composer is clearly attracted to the tension-creating attributes of dissonance, and he indulges with abandon his liking for this element in the varied accompaniments for the last verses. The end of the setting of  Crimond, shown in Example 9, illustrates the point. Several of the dissonances in this passage are traditional nonharmonic embellishing tones, such as the appoggiatura at bar 42 in the left hand part, and the suspension at bar 44 in the right hand, both of which resolve downwards by step. Dissonant clashes occur between the tonic pedal point and the manual harmony at bars 43-46, and there are numerous mildly dissonant seventh chords that are redolent of the musical theater style of Lloyd Webber.

Some of the touches of chromaticism that ratchet up the element of surprise and excitement in the varied harmonizations for last verses involve seventh chords. See, for instance, the secondary dominant seventh chord at bar 40, the diminished seventh chord at bar 41, and the half diminished seventh chords on the dominant at bars 44, 46, and 50 in Example 9. The major chord on the flattened mediant at bar 49 is a chromatic touch that some may feel is quite exhilarating.

Hymns for Occasions and More Hymns for Occasions are written with a sense of bold confidence and sheer enjoyment, coupled with thrilling, often unexpected delightful harmonic ventures, and they may well revive stale choirs and congregations who have become bored hymn singers.40

Given the above inspired arrangements of hymns, it is something of a disappointment that the composer has chosen to write almost all the twenty or so voluntaries on hymn tunes41 in the improvisational, homophonic, formally free style of the Gregorian trilogy discussed earlier. William Lloyd Webber was particularly fond of the style for some of his pieces based on hymn tunes.42 But he avoided the sameness of Mawby's compositions by sometimes using techniques and forms of the past, such as imitative counterpoint including canon,43 writing alla Bach,44 and casting the music in one of the chorale prelude forms.45 Yet this is not to say that one cannot commend some of the Mawby hymn preludes. Unto Us Is Born a Son (1994) and O Filii et Filiae (1995), for example, are vibrant and alive, and entirely convincing.

Unto Us Is Born a Son is so intensely joyous and melodious, and enriched with warm seventh chords and chromaticisms, that one might not notice the art concealing art, for the preexistent melody is subjected to continuous development, without any sense of it being an intellectual, technical study. The old Christmas tune traditionally associated with this text appears in a multitude of guises. Sometimes it is heard as a soprano melody with or without intervallic or rhythmic modification.  In one ruminative soft passage, there are vague reminiscences of the carol theme showing up fleetingly in a melismatic right-hand solo, accompanied by whole-note chords in the left hand, over a long pedal point. In the growing excitement leading to the closing apotheosis, parts of the Unto Us Is Born a Son melody appear in an inner part over an extended tonic pedal point. At the start of this passage, the first and third phrases of the preexistent melody are stated without break. Then the first two phrases of the hymn tune are presented in a particularly grand and "in the face" manner in augmentation, enunciated in stentorian, raspy tuba chords in the left hand, sandwiched between fortissimo accompanimental right-hand figurations and a pedal point in the feet. The last phrase of the carol tune is never stated in the work.

O Filii et Filiae is unique among the hymn preludes in that it is built around a full, uninterrupted statement of the preexistent melody. Mawby retains the modality and moderate pace of the ancient Easter plainsong tune, but removes the original free rhythms in favor of triple meter. A rhythmic, one-bar motif involving octave leaps in the right hand, over dotted half note left-hand chords, provides the material of the opening prelude, and returns in modified forms in interludes later.  In the first section, this leaping material frames presentations of the first and third lines of O Filii et Filiae in the mixolydian mode on G, followed by a repeat of the third line, now in the mixolydian on C. Next, via an eight-bar dominant pedal point that is ornamented by references to the leaping motif, there is a loud, majestic complete statement of the modal plainsong on C in manual block chords over dotted half notes in the pedals. In the third section, with a growing sense of excitement engendered by syncopations, more dissonance, and a gradual increase in organ volume, the ancient melody is presented a final time, broken into separate phrases and supported by a foundation of material derived from the preludial leaping motif.  The coda is both sublime and breath-taking: above a fortissimo fifteen-bar dominant pedal point, the left hand plays the first two lines of O Filii et Filiae in the tenor register on the solo division tuba stop, accompanied by chords in the right hand on the great manual. Finally, the last phrase of the hymn, marked Adagio, appears in the pedals, under a series of massive, held chromatic manual chords. A thunderous full organ C major chord closes the work.

Compline (1993) is an example of some fifteen pieces composed for the so-called "Reluctant Organist"--someone who can only play simple pedal parts consisting of mainly lower notes (which are easier for beginners to play) under a more difficult keyboard part.46 Such restrictions do not seem to have hampered the composer, for Compline unfolds naturally, with a restrained beauty and calm spiritual tone that is entirely appropriate for Compline, the final service before retiring in the Roman Catholic Church.  Two musical ideas are developed in a series of short alternating sections. The one idea is introduced at the start, and is a solemn, reverent theme in solid quarter and half note chords that are generally dissonant. Noticeably more concordant, the other idea is a faster moving, sinuous, melismatic, widely spaced theme.

The Weekend Organist: Service Music for Manuals (1997) is similar to the Gregorian Calendar, Gregorian Communion, and Gregorian Processionals in that it is a resource volume for church organists. The book comprises eighteen Fanfares, ten Processionals, seven Meditations, and nine Recessionals. The envisaged user is "the busy weekend organist who, while anxious to contribute to a vibrant weekly liturgy, has little time to undertake systematic and concentrated organ practice."47

In the Preface, Mawby suggests that the nine longer Fanfares could be used as an introduction to the hymns on special occasions, or might be played as greetings for an important visitor, or even to mark the arrival of the ordinary procession. They are in the nine most common major keys for hymns:  the first in C major, followed by one piece for each of the major key signatures from one to four sharps and flats.  A large two manual organ that includes a trumpet stop, reed chorus, and enclosed swell seems to be in the composer's mind.  Mawby has a fine grasp of the need, when writing fanfares, for a vibrant sense of dash, staccato articulation, repeated-note rhythms, triadic melodic motifs, and, perhaps in order to keep the audience alert, brief surprising chordal digressions here and there. The harmony is modern-sounding but tonal, with frequent progressions to unexpected chords, and is encrusted with traditional nonharmonic embellishing tones. One does not sense that the composer has labored long and hard on polishing, with the result that there is a pleasant easy flow about the music, which can be magnificent and emotionally stirring.

Mawby says the nine shorter Fanfares should be played as prefaces to the Gospel reading on feast days, but they might introduce hymns at important services.

The Processionals and Recessionals are divided into three categories:  (1) loud two-page works; (2) quiet two-page pieces; and (3) short compositions that are mostly only three systems long.  Mawby envisages them as interchangeable, and may be shortened if necessary.

To some degree, in the Processionals and Recessionals, but especially in the quiet, two-page Meditations, plainsong's contours pervade the melodic material.  The Meditations are also endowed with a contemplative, spiritual mood that is the world of the Roman Catholic Church's High Mass, with its chiming altar bells, smell of incense and candles, and Gregorian chant. Optional cuts, marked by square brackets, are provided in the Meditations, to facilitate the tailoring of the length to suit a particular occasion.

A procession of majestic pseudo plainsong melodies dominates the joyful  voluntary Praise the Lord with Mighty Sounds (1997). Cast in ternary form, a celebratory mood is established immediately in Section A with detached, dense, chordal writing for full organ alternating with skipping plainsong-like interjections. After developing these ideas, a subdued middle section is ushered in with a short lyrical new melody that again suggests the influence of ancient Catholic chant. Initially this tune is soloed in the left hand, accompanied on another manual by detached repeated chords in the right hand, and then it undergoes development, with fragments of the piece's principal melodic material appearing here and there. Section A1 sees a return to the dynamically powerful, dignified ideas of the opening. These are developed briefly, after which, with the organ blazing away at full throttle, there is a closing cadential affirmation of Christ's majesty over his people.

Triptych for Organ (1997), Mawby's only large scale,48 technically difficult work, is for top recitalists. It requires a large Romantic orchestral organ with at least one enclosed division.  In using the term triptych Mawby was likening his three pieces to an altarpiece painting in three hinged-together panels, such as the 1432 Altarpiece by Hubert and Jan van Eyck in St. Bavo Cathedral, Ghent, which he loves.49 The three movements are titled "The Energy and Humanity of Christ," "The Mystery of Communion," and "Christ is Risen, Alleluia!" and are independent programmatic pieces that are related by their Christian theology but nothing more. The work's modality, pseudo chant motifs, free use of successions of different meters, and through-composed, improvisational style are vintage Mawby. Dissonances are much more pervasive and abrasive than usual, notably in the greater than usual use of cluster chords. Despite the religious titles of the movements, the composition is not in cyclic form, but similarities in the main motifs of each of the movements (marked with brackets in Example 10a-c) help to bind the work together thematically.

Marked Allegro feroce, the first movement opens with the principal idea, a five-tone motif, in the pedals (Example 10a). This eventually gives way to subordinate material consisting of a series of syncopated, detached, agitated, repeated-note, sixteenth-note patterns. The opening five-tone motif returns, transformed into a jaunty modal dancing theme, and then is truncated, against a backdrop of savagely dissonant cluster chords. Then a new, less dramatic subordinate melodic idea appears, duplicated at the fourth and sixth below, thus forming parallel first inversion triads. This material returns in various guises throughout the rest of the movement. As the triumphant close approaches, both the principal five-tone motif and the syncopated, sixteenth-note motif are brought together in a series of overlapping entries, against a backdrop of busy, high pitched, sixteenth-note figurations in the right hand. In the breathtaking lead up to the final chord, the first motif is dominant.

The second movement, marked Andante ma un poco rubato, is characterized by a rather static, spiritual atmosphere that Mawby first used in Mass in Honour of Christ the King (1967) and had turned to so effectively a number of times later.50 The structure is a series of smoothly joined sections in which the movement's chief motif (which is similar to the first movement's principal motif) undergoes a series of transformations, against slower moving ethereal-sounding chords. First, it is reiterated like an ostinato in the pedal. Then it turns into a wide-ranging, serpentine, high-pitched, fragmented solo (Example 10b). At the approach to the climax the motif is obsessively repeated, after which it returns to the pedal.

A similar motif to the first movement's principal idea opens the finale, and this is followed by a bridge passage of agitated sixteenth-note figurations that are also reminiscent of the beginning of the composition. Then a secondary idea, a rhythmic, wide-ranging melodic fragment for a solo reed in the style of a pompous heraldic fanfare, is introduced. With deep, highly emotional religious fervor, the composer alternates the movement's principal motif and the solo reed fanfare idea in an extended, wildly ecstatic movement of metamorphosis. Mawby, as if overcome with enthusiasm, and drawing upon his whole arsenal of improvisational effects, seems to lose himself in what is the most extensive display in his organ music of colorful, sonorous, acoustical effects.

After so many pieces of between two to four pages length written principally for church service use, Triptych's larger canvas  is a major departure for Mawby.  Its positive attributes are the fluency of the writing, the vivid pictorialism, and the courageous daring the composer demonstrates in experimenting on a much larger canvas than before. But the composer's improvisatory, through-composed methods, that work well in shorter structures, are put under unbearable stress in here.

The 20th-century English Catholic composers of significant church music are probably Edward Elgar, Edmund Rubbra, Lennox Berkeley, Anthony Milner, and Colin Mawby. Unlike the others in this group, Mawby has concentrated almost entirely on writing liturgical church and organ music. He has a keen appreciation of, and affection for, religious texts, and responds to them creatively and with finesse. This factor, combined with his superlative mastery of the techniques of writing for voices, accounts, at least in part, for his best church works probably being unequaled by other living English Catholic composer. In the organ works, plainsong has perhaps been allowed to be too influential, and preoccupation with loosely evolving, improvisational development of material monopolizes the scores. Salient positive features of his organ compositions are the excellent under-the-fingers style and feeling for what sounds well, and the music's appropriateness for the occasions for which it has been written--its ability to beautify and bring into focus the moods of the various situations that call for organ music in church services.

The conviction, inspiration, sincerity, and warmth of expression in his church and organ music, are expressions of the two paramount galvanizing forces in Mawby’s life:  his love of God, and devotion to the Roman Catholic Church.

Godwin Sadoh is a Nigerian composer, ethnomusicologist, organist and choir director with degrees in piano performance, organ performance, and ethnomusicology. He is currently a doctoral student in organ performance and composition at the Louisiana State University. His recent publications include "Music at the Anglican Youth Fellowship, Ile-Ife, Nigeria: An Intercultural Experience" published in The Hymn, in January 2001, and "A Centennial Epitome of the Organs at the Cathedral Church of Christ, Lagos, Nigeria" published in The Organ, in May 2002.

Historical Background

The history of Nigerian hymn-based compositions consists of several related experiences in which European and American missionary efforts played a major role. The establishment of the Christian church in the 19th century by the missionaries is a turning point of Western musical influence in Nigeria. However, other institutions such as the Christian mission schools, institutions of higher learning, and the modern Nigerian elite also contributed to the development of hymn-based works in the country.1

Through the church, the missionaries introduced hymns to Nigerians, and before long Nigerian congregations became familiar not only with European hymns, chants, and canticles, but with anthems, cantatas, oratorios, and organ works by European composers. Prominent among these works are variations on the Blue Bells of Scotland, George Frideric Handel's Messiah, Joseph Haydn's Creation, John Stainer's Daughter of Jairus, Samuel Coleridge-Taylor's Hiawatha, Felix Mendelssohn's Elijah, and the organ works of Dietrich Buxtehude, Johann Sebastian Bach, John Stanley, Felix Mendelssohn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Max Reger.

In the mission schools, Nigerians were taught to use European notation as well as play harmonium and piano. In fact, it is the introduction of Western musical exegesis that led to the rise of modern Nigerian composers. As Bode Omojola notes, from the advent of the missionaries around 1850 until the end of the 19th century, musical activities among elitist groups and churches in the Western and Eastern parts of Nigeria were mostly European.2

Rev. Robert A. Coker (the first Nigerian to study music abroad to a professional level) is reported to have trained a large number of Nigerian women in the performance of Western classical music between 1880 and 1890. In addition, he organized a number of public concerts known as the Coker concerts, which became the center of social life in Lagos.3 Rev. Coker was the first organist and choirmaster at the Cathedral Church of Christ, Lagos (the present headquarters of the Anglican communion in Nigeria and the seat of the Archbishop). Dr. Thomas Ekundayo Phillips (the second Nigerian musician trained in Europe), who later became the organist and Master of the Music at the Cathedral Church, concentrated on oratorios and organ music for the churches in the southwestern region of Nigeria. A Passacaglia on an African Folksong for organ, Variations on an African Folksong for organ, and Samuel, a cantata for SATB, voice solos and organ accompaniment, are some of the compositions by Ekundayo Phillips.

After the nation gained its independence from Great Britain in 1960, the quest for a national identity was the paramount objective of art and church music composers in Nigeria. Experimental works by pioneering church organists and choirmasters produced compositions neither entirely Nigerian nor entirely Western. These works could be best described as a synthesis of Nigerian and Western musical idioms. The synthesis of the two musical idioms actually began in the church. Fela Sowande, an organist and composer and the foremost representative of the second generation of modern Nigerian composers, employed several folktunes as the basis of his work. Examples of such works are African Suite for string orchestra, and Folk Symphony for orchestra. Among his famous organ works are Oyigiyigi, Obangiji, Joshua Fit the Battle of Jericho, Prayer, K'a Mura, Yoruba Lament, and Sacred Idioms of the Negro.

Hymn-Based Compositions

Sacred Idioms of the Negro is a six-movement work out of which five are based on Yoruba Christian hymns and one on the African-American spiritual "Bury Me Eas' or Wes'." Laudamus Te is based on a Yoruba hymn and it bubbles with rhythmic energy. The composer did not specify the title of the hymn. The thematic material of Supplication is derived from a Yoruba hymn of prayer in which the Yoruba Christian beseeches God to accept the gifts of their hands, so that when it is time to die, the Christian may wake up in Heaven. It is built on a local hymn tune composed by a Yoruba Methodist minister, The Rev. A.T. Ola Olude. The text of the hymn tune may be translated as "The day is gone, darkness draws near, soon every creature will sleep, May God watch us through the dark night, and may we not find ourselves out of the hands of Sleep into the hands of Death while we sleep." Via Dolorosa supplies a classic example of Yoruba melodies in speech rhythm. Here the Yoruba Christian ponders on the first Good Friday, and reminds us of the tragic event of that terrible day, when Christ was crucified on the cross. Bury Me Eas' or Wes' is based on an African-American spiritual, which has the same words for its title according to the composer. See Example 1 for the themes of each movement of Sacred Idioms of the Negro.4

The last movement of the work Jubilate is based on the tune of a Yoruba Christian hymn "Oyigiyigi, ota omi" (The sea pebble is immortal). Jubilate is a song of joy on the organ, the title deriving from Psalm 100, Jubilate Deo omnis terra (O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands). The rhythmic disposition of the work consists of syncopations, constant and variable rhythmic patterns, and an ostinato in the pedal. The texture is homophonic following 19th-century convention, while the harmony is triadic and functional. Its form is expanded ternary with a fanfare as introduction, a contrasting middle section with the principal theme over a pedal ostinato and a recapitulation of the principal section. See Example 2 for the middle section of Jubilate.

Another work based on a preexisting hymn is Sowande's Oh Render Thanks, a hymn anthem for SATB and organ accompaniment. The texts are derived from hymns 552 and 554 of the British Hymnal Companion. Sowande composed an original tune for the combined five verses, which are clearly separated with organ interludes. The first and last verses are in full unison, while the second and fourth verses are in four parts (SATB). Verse three is a duet for double tenor and double bass voices. It is very practicable to engage the congregation in singing this anthem with the choir. I do recall the congregation at my home church, the Cathedral Church of Christ, Lagos, singing verses one and five with the choir since they are in unison. The choir sang verses two, three, and four. This creates an interesting alternatim. The anthem closes with a long Amen in imitative style. Example 3 shows the arrangement of the first verse of the anthem.

Ayo Bankole's Sonata No. 2 in C for piano (The Passion) is another example of hymn-based work. Bankole provided  an excellent structural analysis of the music in the composer's notes to the work. The three-movement composition is a programmatic piece depicting the passion and crucifixion of Christ. The first movement subtitled "And They Sought About for to Kill Him" is in conventional sonata form. The ticking of the seconds, the throbbing of the heart, the stillness of the night, the mischievous searchers and similar sinister concepts are realized by a subtle mixture of polytonality, wholetonality, and pentatonality. The exposition, which begins without an introduction, has two contrasting themes. The first, which is realized over a pedal C, is a rhythmic, pentatonic motive on the notes G-flat, A-flat, and B-flat. The second theme is a melodic setting of the hymn "Jesu, Jesu mo ki o o" (Jesus, Jesus I greet thee) over an implied ostinato. Note that this hymn is based on a pentatonic scale as shown in Example 4.

The development section pursues the searching motive and begins and ends with the passion song "Jesu Kristi, Igi Oro" (Jesus Christ, O painful Cross), by the late Rev. Canon J. J. Ransome-Kuti, one of the pioneering organists and choirmasters in Nigeria. The song vividly describes the agony and suffering of Christ.

The second movement, titled "And He Was Crucified," is in ternary form and begins with a slow, somber, chord progression in the minor key which blossoms into a broad, pentatonic melody suggesting the esoteric and mystical joy of the crucifixion. It depicts the hammering and nailing by the executioners, the sympathizers and the abandonment of Christ's body by his spirit.  The major chord at the end of this movement affirms that Christ's death was a triumphant achievement for the whole world as it guarantees salvation for all believers.

The final movement of this well crafted masterpiece is a rondo, subtitled "The Song of Mary." The few Africanisms in the work as a whole are found in the borrowed themes composed by local choirmasters and the use of pentatonic scale. Western musical elements predominate: 19th-century programmatic features, dynamic markings, polytonality and wholetone scale, form, instrument (piano), and several pianistic devices not found in indigenous Nigerian music.

Joshua Uzoigwe's Nigerian Dances is a collection of four pieces for piano. Dance No. 2 is a derivation of a popular Yoruba Christian hymn called "Ise Oluwa" (The Work of God). The piece is structured in three parts: an introduction, principal theme section with a development portion, and a conclusion. The principal section figures the hymn tune Ise Oluwa in the right hand with a chromatic accompaniment in the left hand. The coda is derived from the first two and last measures of the main tune. See Example 5 for an excerpt of the principal section of Nigerian Dances No. 2.

The last work for discussion is my own O Trinity Most Blessed Light, a hymn anthem for SATB and organ accompaniment. The text is taken from hymn 15 of the British Hymns Ancient and Modern. I arranged the three verses for choir only, however, the congregation may sing along with the choir in verse two which is in unison. The first verse is in strict homophonic four-part texture with accompaniment ad libitum. The first two measures of verse two are arranged for male voices (tenor and bass), while the last two are for female voices in unison with the sopranos singing the descant. The last verse marked Maestoso con mosso is a triumphant and brilliant ending in contrapuntal imitation of all the voices accompanied with full organ. The piece closes with a final Amen. See Example 6 for the arrangement of the second verse of O Trinity Most Blessed Light.

Summary

In conclusion, one may ask why the use of hymn tunes or texts as the basis of new compositions? The answers are not far-fetched. In the first place, 99.9% of the composers and audiences of these works are predominantly Christians. All the aforementioned composers received their early musical training from various churches. Most of them began their musical careers as choristers and later became organists in several denominations in Nigeria. Second, the borrowed hymn tunes and words are familiar to the audiences since they must have sung them during worship. The hymns then become an instrument of attraction to draw interested persons to the concert hall. Third, using hymns in classical music helps to distillate the social stigma of secularization attached to concert music. The sacred texts and tunes enhance the creation of a serene environment similar to worship. Fourth, all the works are suitable for divine services in churches. For instance, church choirs could sing Fela Sowande's Oh Render Thanks and my own O Trinity Most Blessed Light. Ayo Bankole's Passion Sonata is appropriate for prelude or offertory music on Good Friday, while Sowande's Sacred Idioms of the Negro is very suitable for preludes and postludes at divine services. Finally, creating new works from preexisting melodies is a good exercise for artistic stimulus and creativity. It enhances the development of the intuitive and creative imagination of the composers.

<p>Godwin Sadoh is a Nigerian church musician, composer,
pianist, organist/choral conductor and ethnomusicologist. He received his
Doctor of Musical Arts degree in organ performance and composition from
Louisiana State University in May 2004, making him the first African to earn
the DMA degree in organ performance from any institution. His extensive
research on Nigerian church music, organ building, composers, African art
music, and intercultural musicology is published in The Diapason, The Hymn, The
Organ, Composer-USA, Living Music, Africa, Organ Encyclopedia, and Contemporary
Africa Database. His organ and choral works, as well as hymn book, E Korin
S'Oluwa: Fifty Indigenous Church Hymns from Nigeria, are published by Wayne
Leupold Editions. Sadoh's book, The Organ Works of Fela Sowande: Cultural
Perspectives (New York: Zimbel Press, 2005), will be in print in spring 2006.</p>

Fela Sowande's (1905-1987) centenary is being celebrated all around the
world with various types of music festivals in 2005. He was born one hundred
years ago into a musical family in Lagos, Nigeria. Although Sowande belongs to
the second generation of Nigerian composers, he can be regarded as the father
of modern African art music. The first generation of Nigerian composers comprised
mainly church musicians who wrote mostly hymns and choral pieces for worship.
It was Sowande who expanded Nigerian art music from the church arena to public
concert auditorium. He introduced art songs for voice and piano, sacred and
secular choral pieces as well as orchestra works to the repertoire of Nigerian
modern art music.

Sowande is also the father of the 'Nigerian organ school' because he
propelled the musical genre to an unprecedented height through his extensive
compositions and publications for the organ. There has never been any Nigerian
composer who has written such a significant body of organ works as Sowande. His
compositions for organ outnumbered his works for other genres. Today, Sowande
is the most celebrated Nigerian musician of international repute with his
career covering areas of music education, composition, performance, research,
broadcasting, as well as traditional religious practices.

Compositions

Fela Sowande composed for almost all the music media: voices and piano/organ
accompaniment, organ, and orchestra. He wrote three major works for orchestra:
Four Sketches for full orchestra (1953), African
Suite for string orchestra (1955), and the Folk
Symphony for full orchestra (1960). The
three works utilize Western conventional harmony, tonality, form, and
instrumentation. Elements of African traditional music in these pieces are
limited to the use of indigenous folksongs, ostinati, and selected Yoruba
rhythmic patterns. The Folk Symphony
is based on Yoruba melodies from Nigeria, while the African Suite is based on
melodies from both Nigeria and Ghana.

Sowande wrote several choral pieces of which the most popular in Nigeria are
Oh Render Thanks for SATB and organ,
Roll De Ol’ Chariot for SATBB and piano, Wheel,
Oh Wheel 
style='font-style:normal'>for SATB, and The Wedding Song
style='font-style:normal'> for SSA and piano. Oh Render Thanks
style='font-style:normal'>is a hymn anthem whose texts are derived from hymns
552 and 554 of the British Hymnal Companion. Sowande composed an original
melody for the combined five verses, which are clearly separated with organ
interludes. The first and the last verses are in full unison, while the second
and fourth verses are in four-part harmony. Verse three is a duet for double
tenor and double bass voices. Roll De Ol’ Chariot
style='font-style:normal'>and Wheel, Oh Wheel
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  are
both based on African-American spirituals. Wheel, Oh Wheel
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  is
a cappella and characterized by highly syncopated rhythms. The Wedding Song is
written for two sopranos, alto and piano accompaniment. The melody is borrowed
from a popular Yoruba wedding song with syncopated rhythms. The piano part
supplies a dance rhythm accompaniment to the vocal line. Structurally, the song
is divided into two parts. The opening section is a solo by the bride bragging
about the good qualities of the man of her dream. The second section is a
chorus for three vocal parts (SSA) in which the friends of the bride sing a
song of joy, adoration, and encouragement on her wedding day. Sowande's choral
works are generally characterized by vibrant lively tempos.

Sowande composed seventeen major works for organ. These pieces may be
broadly divided into three main categories for functional purposes in the
church: liturgical pieces, preludes and postludes, and concert pieces. Some of
these works could be placed in more than one group due to their stylistic
characteristics. Fantasia in D, Festival March, Plainsong
style='font-style:normal'>, and Choral Preludes on Yoruba Sacred
Melodies are not included in this
classification because the scores were not available to me at the time of
writing this essay.

Liturgical Pieces

There are nine organ works that are suitable for divine services, either for
the offertory, communion or any meditative aspect of worship. The contemplative
elements in these pieces include slow tempo, short duration, and simplicity.
The thematic materials of these works are mainly borrowed indigenous hymn tunes
from Nigeria and African-American spirituals; this aspect makes them more
appropriate for playing within worship.

The pieces are:

1. K'a Mura. London: Chappell, 1945.

2. Pastourelle. London: Chappell, 1952.

3. Yoruba Lament. London: Chappell, 1955.

4. Kyrie. London: Chappell, 1955.

5. K'a Mo Rokoso (unpublished score).

6. Supplication (unpublished score from Sacred Idioms of the Negro
style='font-style:normal'>).

7. Via Dolorosa (unpublished score from Sacred Idioms of the Negro
style='font-style:normal'>).

8. Bury Me Eas' or Wes' (unpublished score from Sacred Idioms of the
Negro).

9. Vesper (unpublished score from Sacred Idioms of the Negro
style='font-style:normal'>).

Preludes and Postludes

Six pieces fall within this category and are generally characterized by
moderate or lively tempos, and are of moderate difficulty. These pieces are
loud, moderate in length, sectional, and are mostly based on sacred themes from
the Yoruba church hymns and folksongs, as well as African-American spirituals.
They include:

1. Yoruba Lament. London: Chappell, 1955.

2. Joshua Fit De Battle of Jericho. London: Chappell, 1955.

3. Obangiji. London: Chappell, 1955.

4. Prayer (Oba A Ba Ke). New York: Ricordi, 1958.

5. Supplication (unpublished score from Sacred Idioms of the Negro
style='font-style:normal'>).

6. Jubilate (unpublished score from Sacred Idioms of the Negro
style='font-style:normal'>).

Concert Pieces

Sowande wrote most of his organ works for concert performances. Ten pieces
are in this category. These pieces are vividly distinct from others because of
the high level of difficulty, and they are virtuosic, showing the technical
ability of the performer. These are large multi-sectional works, loud and
lively. The thematic materials are derived from Nigerian folksongs,
African-American spirituals and also hymn tunes composed by local organists and
choirmasters. Some compositional forms include fugue, three-part form, and
theme and variations. The titles are listed below:

1. Jesu Olugbala. London: Novello, 1955.

2. Kyrie. London: Chappell, 1955.

3. Joshua Fit De Battle of Jericho. London: Chappell, 1955.

4. Obangiji. London: Chappell, 1955.

5. Go Down Moses. London: Chappell, 1955.

6. Oyigiyigi: Introduction, Theme and Variations. New York: Ricordi, 1958.

7. Gloria. New York: Ricordi, 1958.

8. Prayer (Oba A Ba Ke). New York: Ricordi, 1958.

9. Laudamus Te (unpublished score from Sacred Idioms of the Negro
style='font-style:normal'>).

10. Jubilate (unpublished score from Sacred Idioms of the Negro
style='font-style:normal'>). 

Yoruba Culture

Fela Sowande belongs to the Yoruba ethnic group of southwest Nigeria;
therefore, it should not be surprising to see elements of Yoruba music permeate
his compositions. Most of Sowande's works are based on melodies borrowed either
from Yoruba indigenous Christian songs or Yoruba folksongs. Some of the songs
are quoted verbatim, while others are slightly modified or varied. In any case,
his Yoruba audience in Nigeria has always been able to identify and relate to
the borrowed songs during concert performances. Indigenous rhythms featured in
Sowande's music are either ostinati or selected Yoruba rhythmic patterns such
as the popular konkonkolo rhythm (also
known as the West African time line) as exemplified in Laudamus Te
style='font-style:normal'> (from Sacred Idioms of the Negro
style='font-style:normal'> for organ). Most of the melodies employed in
Sowande's music are based on the five-note pentatonic scale commonly found in
Yoruba traditional songs.

The titles given to Sowande's compositions express symbolic and imaginary
ideas. The titles of his music have been influenced by the titles of the Yoruba
folksongs and indigenous hymn tunes employed in creating the music. His
experience in Yoruba folklore and mythology enhanced the shaping of the form
and character of the pieces. For instance, Obangiji, the title of one of his
organ works, is festive music meant to praise God the Almighty. Both the title
of the organ work and the original melody convey the same message--singing the
praise of God. Hence, the title informed the nature and character of the music.
In Via Dolorosa, from Sacred Idioms of the Negro, the composer paints the picture of the suffering and death of Christ
on Good Friday. The piece is based on a Yoruba Christian hymn normally sung on
Good Friday services at Yoruba churches in Nigeria. Sowande captures the
painful death of Christ with the expression mark at the beginning of the piece,
Lento con dolore, and the use of excessive chromatic passages on the manuals
and pedals.

Interculturalism

Three cultural groups played a major role in the life and music of Fela
Sowande: [1] the African/Yoruba cultural heritage from Nigeria, [2] European,
and [3] African-American cultures. Sowande was nurtured and brought up in these
cultures. He began his musical training in Nigeria as a choir boy and organist
apprentice at the Cathedral Church of Christ, Lagos, under the tutelage of
Thomas Ekundayo Phillips, and later went on to Great Britain to study music. He
was more of a university professor, performer and researcher in the United
States of America, where he spent the last thirty years of his life. Moreover,
Sowande was raised in a bicultural environment in Nigeria, where the Yoruba
traditional culture and English cultural values coexisted. Therefore, it should
not be surprising to witness the influence of indigenous African and foreign
cultures on Sowande's music.

It is interesting to observe that Sowande gives bilingual titles to some of
his compositions in English and Yoruba languages. For instance, Prayer (Oba
A Ba Ke) and Oyigiyigi:
Introduction, Theme and Variations on a Yoruba Folk Theme
style='font-style:normal'> for organ are representative of works in this
category. For those pieces based on Yoruba songs, Sowande often writes out the
Yoruba text of the song with its English translation in the composer's notes to
the music. In these compositions, we see the interactions of two major
languages. Another source of interculturalism in Sowande's music is the idea of
borrowing preexisting melodies from Yoruba culture in Nigeria, from Ghanaian
music, and from African-American spirituals. Melodies from Nigeria are present
in all his compositional genres, while a Ghanaian song is incorporated into his
African Suite. African-American
spirituals are employed mainly in his solo art songs, choral pieces and organ
works. Elements of Western classical music are vividly manifest in his choice
of tonality, 19th-century chromaticism, form, and instrumentation.

Nationalism

The wave of nationalism or cultural renaissance in Nigeria began in the mid
1940s and lasted until the independence of the nation from colonial governance
in 1960. This was a period in which the Nigerian elite united to revive the
traditional values and culture of Nigeria over the European imperialism that
was prevalent at the time. Indigenous playwrights, poets, dramatists, theater
artists, sculptors, fine artists, as well as musicians all embarked on a
massive campaign and incorporation of materials from their indigenous culture
into their works.

Hubert Ogunde, popularly known as the father of Nigerian 'Contemporary
Yoruba Theatre' wrote several operas and plays based on Nigerian legends,
myths, politics, socio/cultural life, dances, rituals, festivals, and
traditional musical styles. It is of interest to note that Fela Sowande started
composing major musical works around this period even though he did not return
to Nigeria until the early 1950s. Sowande's contribution to the Nationalist
Movement could be observed in his use of Yoruba traditional songs (either
sacred or secular), rhythms, and the titles given to his music. He was
commissioned by the Nigerian Broadcasting Corporation to compose the Folk
Symphony for the 1960 Independence Day
Anniversary, although it was not accepted for performance. The work was later
premiered by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra at Carnegie Hall in 1962. This
was also the period in which Sowande embarked on intensive research on Nigerian
traditional music as well as Yoruba folklore for the purpose of dissemination
through the radio system, documentation in books and archives for further use,
and as source materials for his compositions. He used the resulting materials
from his field research to enlighten the Nigerian populace about their own
culture that was being aggressively eroded by Western traditions and values.

Music Scholarship

Fela Sowande contributed immensely to the field of music scholarship through
several documented presentations at international conferences and academic
institutions about Yoruba folklore, Odu Ifa (Ifa divination), the theory and
practice of African music in general, music education in Nigeria, modern
African art music and its composers, as well as the Africanization of Black
Studies in the United States of America. For instance, Sowande presented a
paper, "Nigerian Traditional Music," at the University of Ibadan in
1962. In 1963, he presented a lecture titled, "The Teaching of Music in
Nigerian Schools," at the meeting of the Association of Church Musicians
at Methodist Boys' High School, Lagos. On May 5, 1965, Sowande delivered
another lecture, "The Development of a National Tradition of Music,"
at a seminar under the auspices of the Department of Music, University of
Nigeria, Nsukka. Five years after his erudite presentation at Nsukka, Sowande
read a paper titled, "The Role of Music in Traditional African
Society," at an international conference sponsored by UNESCO in Yaounde,
Cameroon, in February 1970. Sowande wrote and published short essays in
Composer, Africa, World of Music, and African American Affairs. Some of his
unpublished manuscripts include Oruko A Mu T'Orun Wa, The Yoruba Talking
Drum, Children of the Gods among the Yorubas, The Mind of a Nation: The Yoruba
Child, Aspects of Nigerian Music, The African Child in Nigeria,
style='font-style:normal'>and Black Folklore
style='font-style:normal'>.

Fela Sowande is highly respected by the entire caucus of art musicians in
Nigeria. Hardly any professionally trained musician from Nigeria can write or
talk about art music from that part of the world without giving due credit and
respect to Sowande, either by quoting from his literary writings or his
compositions. He laid a solid foundation for modern African art music upon
which subsequent generations are now building. Although in the third
generation, Ayo Bankole (1935-1976) deviated from the traditional conventions
and nationalistic campaign of Sowande, he certainly relied on Sowande's works
as a guide to set him on the right track. Bankole uses mostly 20th-century compositional
devices and tonalities such as 12-tone method and atonality in his organ
works. 

In the fourth generation, I came onto the scene of the 'Nigerian organ
school' to turn the clock back to Sowande's model. Before I started composing
for solo organ, I invested a considerable amount of time studying Fela
Sowande's organ works in order to develop my own personal style. All my
published compositions for organ (Wayne Leupold Editions unless noted
otherwise)--Nigerian Suite No. 1 for Organ Solo, Nigerian Suite No. 2 for
Organ Solo, Impressions from an African Moonlight, Twenty-Five Preludes on
Yoruba Church Hymns--as well as
The Misfortune of a Wise Tortoise for Organ and Narrator
style='font-style:normal'>and Jesu Oba for Trumpet and Organ
style='font-style:normal'> (Florida: Wehr's Music House, 2005), were all
influenced by Sowande's organ works.

Sowande's centenary is widely celebrated all around the world, in the United
States of America, the United Kingdom, Australia, and Nigeria. The Grand
Festival took place in June 2005, in Lagos, Nigeria, where Fela Sowande was
born one hundred years ago. The festival featured presentations of scholarly
papers on the life, contributions, and music of the foremost Nigerian composer
as well as performances of his compositions.

Gary Verkade is an influential and sought after interpreter of new music throughout Europe and the United States in addition to his established reputation as an analyst and performer of the traditional literature. His extensive experience with music of past eras has led to the publication of essays and articles on a variety of subjects relating to organ performance, early music performance practice, and composition. An organist, composer, and co-founder of the Essen, Germany-based improvisation ensemble SYNTHESE, he has been a leader in bringing forth serious new music for the organ, commissioning new works and working in a collaborative capacity with several well-known composers. He has a particular interest in performing music for organ and electronics. Verkade’s own compositions range among music for organ, electronics, chamber and improvisation ensembles. As a player of improvised music, he has worked together with dancers, photographers and painters, on projects that bring the arts together in a complementary and fructuous manner. Dr. Verkade has been on the faculty of the Musikögskolan i Piteå, Sweden since 2000 as Professor of Organ. He has recorded with the Innova and Mode labels, most recently Winded, an album of works for organ and electronics, and Luciano Berio’s “Fa-Si” on Berio: The Complete Sequenzas, Alternate Sequenzas & Works for Solo Instruments, a collection of performances by the premier contemporary interpreters of new music.

Motto

The noblest desire, the desire to know, imposes on us the duty to investigate.
--Arnold Schoenberg, Harmonielehre (Vienna, 1922)

Beginnings
Composition is the science of putting together consonance and dissonance in such a way that good counterpoint occurs.
Form consists in the artful variety and combination of such consonance and dissonance, in other words in the observation of the general and special rules of counterpoint, so that according to different usage and natural effect it happens that one composition is good, whereas another is better, pleasing the listener more and making its author famous.
--Christoph Bernhard, Tractatus compositionis augmentatus (Dresden, after 1657)

Yes, I readily admit that the rules are to some extent useless and unnecessary. However one sees how carefully they have been used in building harmony. And therefore the ignoramus should not fancy that it makes no difference and one can compose what his fantasy dictates. Oh, no!
--Andreas Werckmeister, Cribrum Musicum (Quedlinburg, 1700)

In sum: the work must be so rich that one must wonder in the extreme, and would have to be an idiot or an atheist (o, the poor, stubborn hearts), who would not be therefore moved to praise the creator.
--Andreas Werckmeister, Harmonologia Musica (Frankfurt and Leipzig, 1702)

Music is a heavenly-philosophical science, especially grounded in mathematics, which deals with sonority insofar as it produces concurrence and good and artful harmony.
--Johann Gottfried Walther, Praecepta der Musicalischen Composition (1708)

It must be looked into what art in music actually is. In my opinion it is as follows: through the use of harmony to awaken in the minds (Gemütern) of man a variety of emotions and, at the same time, through such orderly and sensible harmony to delight the understanding of connoisseurs.
--Georg Philipp Telemann

My goal has been to remind those who want to study music that they cannot get very far in this inexhaustible science without great effort.
--Georg Philipp Telemann, Letter to Johann Mattheson (1718)

All sciences and arts are bound together into a circle by a linked chain. Whoever understands only his own craft, understands nothing; rather, he is a pedant . . . .
--Johann Mattheson, Der vollkommene Capellmeister (Hamburg, 1739)

Introduction
In the Introduction of the new critical edition of Dieterich Buxtehude’s keyboard music, Christoph Wolff writes: “To a considerable extent, Buxtehude’s position in the history of music has been defined by his extraordinary reputation as an organist and by the widespread and continued popularity of his organ compositions.” Wolff continues to explain that Buxtehude’s reputation is based primarily on the free works, the Praeludia, especially those which are pedaliter. I, on the other hand, wish to spend some time with chorale-based works, in particular the chorale prelude Vater unser im Himmelreich, and I will endeavor to demonstrate that Buxtehude’s reputation as a master of organ music could rest on the chorale-based repertoire equally well. I will take as my starting point an historical perspective. I will attempt to listen to this composition with the ears of Buxtehude; in other words, I will keep in mind Baroque, especially German Baroque musical theory and practice.
Peter Reichert, in his article “Musikalische Rhetorik in den Choralvorspielen von Dietrich Buxtehude,” makes the point that our understanding of the chorale-based works by Buxtehude is colored by how much we do not understand about the musical tradition out of which these works arise. He states: “Our pleasure in listening to this music has become, so to speak, a purely culinary one in that we find delight in the beautiful appearance, the surface of the music . . . To the extent that real understanding of the inner content of this music has disappeared, we have devoted ourselves to the sonority of the music, the outer clothing as it were, taking care of the façade of a deserted building.” All those who believe along with the musicians of the Baroque that music is a discipline from which one can both learn and derive pleasure, must ask, along with me: What is there to hear in this composition? In other words: What is there to learn here, what is present here to enrich my experience?
The answers to these questions are, and to a certain extent can only be, personal. However, there is no doubt that some of what I hope to convey here has relevance to others. I would like to concentrate on two specific aspects of the composition, especially: 1) the harmonic and contrapuntal aspect and 2) the relationship of the music to the text and the chorale. It is clear that a composition based on a particular melody and a particular text concerns itself with both that melody and that text. So therefore the two aspects just mentioned are really one. The composition as a whole, the form and the details, will indeed be Buxtehude’s interpretation of that melody and text, expressed harmonically and contrapuntally, musically, which we, in turn, as players, perform at the organ. In order to adequately and appropriately perform we need to hear our way into music which is so far removed from us in time. The fact that this music may in some sense be familiar to us doesn’t necessarily mean that we automatically know what is going on. Familiarity does not necessarily breed understanding. What is it about familiar music, and what is it about unfamiliar music that is unique, unusual? Is there anything in Buxtehude’s composition which awakens our curiosity, strikes us as unexpected? These are the things from which we can learn. What is unusual about Vater unser im Himmelreich, both in the detail and in the form?
The following notes on Vater unser im Himmelreich do not intend to be exhaustive. I have chosen to consider what I deem to be essential to an understanding of the piece as a performer. Many interesting details regarding counterpoint, the handling of dissonance, rhythmic matters, variety in the composition of diminutions and ornaments, etc. have been consciously omitted.
In order to begin, we must attempt to review some history. For learning how to listen to Buxtehude by coming from today and moving back in time to Buxtehude’s day will not reveal to us the interesting and unusual aspects of his compositions. We must start before Buxtehude and move towards him chronologically.

Style
First, let us look at a simple, four-voiced arrangement of the chorale. The harmonization is taken from the chorale prelude itself, distilled out of the richer composition, reduced to the bare essentials. (Example 1) This is one possible harmonization of the chorale, written in a style reminiscent of the chorales found in Samuel Scheidt’s Görlitzer Tabulaturbuch of 1650, though still simpler, in fact positively boring. Yet, it might be suitable as a simple accompaniment to congregational singing.
Buxtehude’s chorale prelude is much more complicated. For example, it has interludes between the chorale phrases that employ imitation. The second example I would like to present consists of the previous simple setting enriched with interludes. However, these interludes are not given as found in Buxtehude, but are likewise distilled out of what is found there. It is again a simplified version—much simplified, though more complex than the preceding example. The harmony is basically the same, but now employs some passing tones and some suspensions in keeping with the simple style. None of the interesting figures, the daring voice leading, or the liberal dissonances of the original are used. In other words, there is no art here. (Example 2)
Playing and listening to these simplified versions of Buxtehude’s work serves to sensitize our ears to hear the art in Vater unser im Himmelreich and to make clear to us why these pieces are so worthy of study. Let us now turn to the chorale prelude itself.

Phrase One (Example 3)
The first thing to notice is that the piece begins with one single voice, a1. The other voices are heard throughout the rest of measure one, but again in the second measure the a1 is heard alone again. This accents those two notes which, significantly, belong to the word Vater, thus accenting that word. We must remember that anyone listening to works of this type in the Baroque knew the chorales they were based upon, not only the melodies, but also the texts. In fact, in chorales such as Vater unser im Himmelreich, i.e., chorales associated with only one particular melody, I think we can be reasonably sure that the melody was 1) recognizable if not too heavily ornamented and 2) the recognized melody automatically called to mind the associated text. That a single note begins this piece is significant for another reason. The single note, the unison, is the unitas, or “one.” In the Baroque, one was not considered to be a number, but was rather the beginning, the source of all number. The unitas was, of course, God, the Father.
The rest in the manuals and pedal is known as an aposiopesis, or abruptio, signifying the more or less abrupt cessation of a musical thought. This is most clearly seen in the pedal, where the typical cadential motive is missing its final note, namely a d on the first beat of measure 2. The motive and the harmony break off suddenly, leaving the a1 in the soprano to carry all of the weight of what is missing on beat one of measure two. In addition, the pedal, when it reenters, late, on beat two, in measure two, still does not bring the expected d, but rather enters on c-sharp. We hear, not the expected d-minor, but an A-major chord in first inversion, a chord that in the Baroque was considered to be particularly expressive.
The pedal continues with a figure known as passus duriusculus, or “a difficult step,” the chromatic sequence of notes: c-sharp, d, c-natural, B-flat. Shortly after the end of the passus duriusculus the alto voice has a quarter note a, which is tied over to the longer half note a in the following measure. This tying of a shorter note to a longer one goes against the rules of counterpoint and is known as a prolongatio. If one hears this note as occurring too soon and sounding too long, it has the effect of slowing down the music. Coupled with the word “Himmelreich” it could be a reference to the concept of eternity, which lasts a longer time than the imagination can fathom.
This happens just before the climax of the first phrase, the second half of measure four. There we find a parrhesia, “liberty of speech,” “candidness,” also known as licentia, “licence.” Traditional theory tells us that the e1 in the soprano is a dissonant note over a g-minor chord. In fact, however, the e1 is definitely consonant: it is the cantus firmus, which is the measure of all things consonant and dissonant. And, indeed, the A-major chord on beat four of that measure acts as a resolution of the preceding dissonance, the c-sharp (tenor) and e1 (soprano) of which, in turn, conclude the cadence on the first beat of the following measure. Before that happens, the tenor note, d, is repeated, emphasized, a reduplicatio: the repetition of a dissonant note. The entire first phrase, beginning with the emphasis on the word Vater, moves towards this goal: the great tension found in measure four and its resolution in measure five. It is indeed a whole phrase and must be played as such.

Phrase Two (Example 4)
With the upbeat to measure six an interlude or, more properly, a prelude to the second phrase of the chorale begins. It is a short fugal introduction, using strict imitation of a motive directly derived from the second chorale phrase, called a fuga realis, of which there are countless examples in Baroque organ literature. This kind of fugal writing is, in other words, the usual case, the norm. The chorale enters with the upbeat to measure eight. With the movement to g1 in measure eight, the chorale leaps up an entire octave to g2. This figure is the hyperbaton, the ascent of a voice out of its normal range. First and foremost, g1 is the chorale tone, not g2. Second, and as important, the leap up of an octave causes a second figure to occur, that of the longinqua distancia, in traditional counterpoint the forbidden separation of upper voices beyond that of an octave, here: d1–g2. Third, the g2 is found outside the staff of the soprano clef, middle c on the bottom line, very often used at this time. J. S. Bach still used the soprano clef for the notation of the Orgelbüchlein. Whether or not Buxtehude used this form of notation in his original manuscript does not change the fact that composers much before him and after him used those clefs in the notation of polyphonic music in Germany and elsewhere. One way or another Buxtehude knew that g2 was out of the traditional range of the soprano voice, which went from b-flat to e2, the range of the soprano clef without the use of ledger lines above or below the staff.
From the high g2 the line descends through the rest of that measure and the next, a catabasis. The pedal line descends also, from the beginning of measure nine through the end of the phrase, a catabasis spanning exactly the interval of an octave. The soprano descends just over the span of the octave. The tenor descends also, beginning in the middle of measure nine to the middle of measure ten. This explains the ellipsis, the lack of something necessary, found in those measures: the alto voice drops out. It is at this point more important for the alto voice to rest than for the polyphony to continue in four voices. Descending music in four voices is awkward to write. It is much more elegant to do it in three voices—which Buxtehude chooses to do here. He draws attention to this fact by allowing the alto to re-enter in measure ten with a dissonance, a cercar della nota, the entrance of a voice one step below the one that is consonant and meant. The soprano and bass voices, descending together in tenths in measure 9, form the figure of the gradatio. Although not defined identically by many authors, the gradatio is understood here to be the parallel movement between two voices.
The hyperbaton in connection with the longinqua distancia and the catabasis in the pedal are the principal carriers of musical meaning in this phrase. The hyperbaton / longinqua distancia, right at the words du and uns, meaning “you” (God) and “us” (mankind), with the emphasis on the great separation (an eleventh), points out with poignancy the space, both spiritual and physical, separating the Godhead from humankind. After the octave leap up, the soprano must descend. The situation is different in the pedal: there is no musical reason for the pedal to descend the octave a to A here. A different pedal line is certainly conceivable just as there is no necessity dictating that the soprano must leap up to g2. These are choices Buxtehude made, recognizable ones. The octave represents the entire gamut of music (the hyperbaton belongs here also): there are no notes that exist that are not found within its confines. The pedal catabasis begins at the word alle, “all,” a fitting representation of that important word. Or better: it is the word Buxtehude has interpreted as important in this phrase, that and the contrast of du and uns.

Phrase Three (Example 5)
Phrase three of the chorale is also introduced by a fuga realis based on the first part of that phrase. The motive is reworked to form a passus duriusculus, which is used throughout the entire chorale phrase. One observes it, somewhat modified in the alto voice in measure 15 and 16 as well as in the pedal in measure 16. The alto in the first part of measure 17 brings the related figure, like an intensification, of the saltus duriusculus, or difficult leap. Interestingly, the chorale itself, in the soprano, appears as a changed version of the fugal theme, as it takes over the chromaticism of the fuga realis motive with the c-sharp2 in measure 14. This is a polyptoton, a changed repetition of a theme, though compositionally the theme or motive has its origin in the chorale melody. Significantly, the chromaticism occurs just at the point the text speaks of being brothers (Brüder sein)—according to the musical interpretation of this (according to Buxtehude, if you will), evidently a difficult undertaking. However, it could also refer to the difficulty of “dich rufen an,” or in general be understood as a reference to prayer as lamentation.
The chorale melody has an extensio, the extension of a note beyond its expected length, on the word dich, “you,” referring to God, giving that word emphasis. Dich ru-fen an now has the rhythm: half note tied to quarter note–quarter note–eighth note–whole note, a syncopatio, or syncopation. The tenor voice is silent throughout most of the phrase, a very long ellipsis. And when the pedal is silent on the third beat of measure 15, the word dich receives an additional accent through the unusual texture, which is suddenly reduced to only two voices. The ellipsis in the tenor allows Buxtehude to make the three remaining voices as like each other as possible while still retaining the melody/accompaniment texture. The phrase ends with a pathopoeia, another chromatically altered note (f-sharp instead of f-natural).

Phrase Four (Example 6)
The prelude to the fourth chorale phrase is not a fuga realis although it utilizes imitation (each entrance an imitatio). The motive, drawn from the last few notes of the chorale phrase, is thrown from voice to voice: bass (m. 17), alto (m. 18), tenor (m. 19), alto (m. 20), tenor (m. 21), soprano (m. 22). However, the organization of this chorale phrase is the strictest yet. The text, und willst das Beten von uns han (literally: and wants prayer from us), expresses the will of God through the word “want,” which in German comes from the same word as “will.” It is God’s will that we pray to him. God’s will is, of course, a command, the law.
This will, this law of God, is expressed, not atypically for the era, through a fuga imaginaria, a specious, fictitious, or imaginary fugue: here, a canon. There is a strict canon between the pedal, which enters first, with the upbeat to measure 19, and the soprano, on the third beat of measure 20. The last notes of the soprano are ornamented using the motive first heard in measure 17. However, there is also a third voice to the canon hidden in the tenor which is unable to quite finish before the end of the chorale phrase. If the imitative motive is reduced to its principal notes, the three-part canon can be clearly seen. (Example 7)
The attention of the listener is drawn particularly to the strong cadence at the end of this phrase. It is the phrase in which the naming of God, through the use of attributes, comes to an end. The actual petition has yet to come. The b-natural1, tied into measure 22, is not properly resolved. Only through licence, catachresis, the leap first to e1, does the dissonance reach a1. The other voices are silent for a moment, aposiopesis, before the cadence on A follows in four voices.

Phrase Five (Example 8)
The next chorale phrase is introduced again by a fuga realis, though here not immediately recognizable due to the mistakenly printed e1 instead of the g1, which is demanded by the conception of the piece. (This realization I owe to Gerd Zacher.) Such mistakes of a third were often made; one needs only to consult the critical apparatus of any number of publications of Baroque keyboard music. The g1 is a dissonance, in fact a saltus duriusculus (a difficult leap, coming from c-sharp1) and a heterolepsis (a note that could come from another voice as passing tone, i.e., coming from the soprano a1). This phrase deals with the petition of the verse, “grant that the mouth not pray alone, help that it come from the depths of the heart.” It begins in this serious manner, the alto voice leaping up close to and sounding a dissonant g1 against the a1 of the cantus firmus in the soprano.
These measures are ruled by the syncopatio in the pedal (mm. 25–26), the ellipsis in the tenor (mm. 27–29), and the catachresis (m. 28). The syncopatio, with its attendant dissonances, encumbers the phrase somewhat, keeping it from getting underway, perhaps pointing out the difficulty of both the petition and the act of petitioning. The first point of relative rest and first real accent after the melody enters is the downbeat of measure 27, on the word bet’ (pray). The words allein der Mund are set in relief in two ways. First the catachresis occurs in conjunction with the passus duriusculus in the pedal: the licence used in handling the dissonances, a1 in the soprano against B-flat in the pedal resolving to the dissonant chord B-natural, e1, g1 on beat two. Second, the ellipsis in the tenor allows Buxtehude to make the cadence on F in three voices, all of which sound the tone F to the exclusion of all else: a musical picture of allein der Mund, “the mouth alone.”

Phrase Six (Example 9)
The prelude to the last chorale phrase is marked by imitation at the fifth between tenor and bass, the normal case in the fuga realis. The alto voice, however, does not participate in the imitation. It begins in parallel thirds (a gradatio) with the tenor and then goes parallel to the bass voice. It is a voice that helps out in the texture. What better picture could there be for the first word of the phrase: hilf’.
The use of musical-rhetorical figures in the music of the North Germans during the Baroque has been established without a doubt, as well as the use of specific forms and compositional techniques based on the expression of text. Connecting specific contrapuntal devices to expression is certainly not unprecedented in Buxtehude. As one example, in Komm, heiliger Geist, Herre Gott, BuxWV 200, Buxtehude employs no vorimitation at all, except preceding the sixth phrase: zu dem Glauben versammelt hast (gathered to the faith). Here Buxtehude composes a fuga realis, which, though it is the normal, preferred method of contrapuntal composition in general, plays the role of the unusual at this point, the exceptional, because it is the only case of such imitation in the entire chorale prelude, and thus receives expressive significance. Here, the gathering of the voices in the fuga realis, first one voice, then a second voice, then the third, is a musical picture of the gathering of the believers (German: versammeln).
This sixth phrase has the most ornamented melody of the piece and is governed by the hyperbole (descending into the range of a lower voice) in the soprano, the abruptio in alto, tenor and bass, the parrhesia on beat four of measure 33, and the circulatio (circular figure) in the soprano in measure 34. The word geh’ (go) is expressed by fast notes including the fastest of the piece (32nds) which descend into the alto and tenor range of the voice: Herzensgrund, depths of the heart. The entrance of the unprepared dissonant chord on beat four (parrhesia) underscores the difficulty of the entire procedure. The circulatio is an unambiguous depiction of the heart, the center of the circulatory system, described by William Harvey in 1628 in his famous book “On the Motion of the Heart and Blood in Animals,” a book about which Buxtehude must have known. The phrase ends with a pathopoeia: f-sharp instead of f-natural, a tone filled with passion “which cannot fail to move the listener” (Burmeister, 1599).

Cadences
It is important for the interpretation of this work to note the various ways Buxtehude deals with the cadences. The cadence in four voices at the end of phrase one is marked by the soprano and tenor: e1 makes tenor d dissonant, which moves to c-sharp, then d1 (soprano) and d (tenor). At the end of phrase two we find the a-mi cadence in four voices, i.e., a Phrygian cadence on a1—A is treated as E would be in modes 3 and 4—formed between the soprano and the bass. Phrase three ends with a cadence in three voices on d2 (soprano) with f-sharp instead of f-natural (pathopoeia), by which the bass note d is missing during the first moment. At the end of phrase four the soprano and the tenor again make the cadence in four voices, this time on A: tenor b making soprano a1 dissonant, which moves to g-sharp1, then a1 (soprano) and a (tenor). Phrase five ends with a cadence in three voices on F, supplying the third scale degree in the cadence scheme: d, a, and now f of the d-minor triad. Phrase six ends in four voices with a cadence formed again by soprano and tenor using the same basic scheme as the cadence at the end of phrase one, but this time utilizing more ornamentation. Here, as opposed to phrase one, the pedal has the root of the chord from the beginning and, different from phrase one, the alto voice has f-sharp instead of f-natural (pathopoeia). Each cadence is audibly different and the performance of each demands of the player a sensibility that takes this into account.

Coda (Example 10)
The work ends with one of Buxtehude’s characteristic codas: a florid melody line over a pedal point. This coda is, in effect, an ornamentation of the final chord. It has, however, its own expression not unrelated to the chorale text. In my opinion it is not the leap of an octave in the soprano voice at the beginning of measure 35 that symbolizes the rising of prayer to heaven. Nor is it the rising scale passage in the second half of measure 36, for both figures are followed by descents. One needs to see, and to hear, that the passage as a whole rises (anabasis): in the soprano first from d1 to d2, followed by a descent to f-sharp1, followed by another rise to a2, and followed again by a descent to d2. The ascending passages win over the descending passages: it ends higher than it began. This is, in fact, true of all of the voices except for the pedal. Both alto and tenor voices ascend farther than they descend over the space of those three measures. A number of the musical-rhetorical figures found in this chorale prelude are found in the final three measures including the hyperbaton, the longinqua distancia, the parrhesia, and the passus duriusculus. It is a succinct and effective summary of the work. The pedal anchors all, the low note, the one that hasn’t been heard since measure 5 and has been all but forgotten, perhaps the depths of the heart (from which prayer comes), perhaps simply pedal point and tonic note, the longest note of the composition.

Performance
The purpose here is not to go into basic performance techniques of North German Baroque music or Buxtehude in particular. That is a given regarding playing this music at all. Beyond that, the player must understand that proper Baroque playing technique is not enough. The fact must be taken into consideration that at no level of the composition does Buxtehude simply “write music.” Therefore the player cannot “simply play” the music. Compositional decisions were made on the basis of the chorale text, both on the local level of single notes and words, as well as on a more global level of form and compositional techniques. The text is the source of a great number of the musical ideas found here. Therefore performance decisions must be made with an ear towards the audibility of these musical features.
The registration cannot be simply “melody and accompaniment”, i.e., forte – mezzo piano. The melody must be clearly melody, yet the accompaniment must not be relegated to the background. The alto, tenor and bass voices simply have too much to express. The possibilities are otherwise almost endless, given this basic premise of the equality of importance of melody and accompaniment.
Tempo must be flexible. Buxtehude took the words of the text into careful consideration—the soprano is, in a very real sense, a sung musical line. Or better: it is the spoken oration, the declamation and, at the same time, an exegesis of the text. One must be able to linger on the words (= musical ideas) Buxtehude considers important.
Perhaps performance cannot pay attention to every detail found in this piece or any other. There is so much to which to listen in this very short composition that there is a real danger of becoming bogged down with details. And maybe from day to day one’s ear is drawn to different aspects of the composition. However, a performance that takes no notice at all of any of the richness found here is inadequate. Important aspects of the composition, aspects that can only be approached first rationally through knowledge of the text and not purely aesthetically (i.e., aurally), should not be ignored. In fact, performance in the Baroque belongs to the rational ordering of music in general. The pronunciatio, or delivery, is the final part of musica rhetorica. Without an adequate delivery, even the best music will fail to produce an effect in the listener. Without some rational thought, which I would like to call practice, some passages will not be recognized as unusual, there will be no contour, no shape to the composition, because these passages will never be heard. Frescobaldi admonishes: “ . . . one should endeavor in the first place to discover the character of the passages, the tonal effect intended by the composer, and the desired manner of performance . . . ” (italics are mine).
Performance is perspective, a way of listening. Performance is understanding, not interpretation. And yet, performance is individual. I would like to close with a remark by Hans Heinrich Eggebrecht made at the end of “Mythos Bach,” found in his book Geheimnis Bach. I will only substitute, for the word Bach, the word Buxtehude. “Understanding needs perspective, calls for the Ego. In other words, in speaking about Buxtehude, be it ever so scientific, we speak also about ourselves because understanding cannot exist without the Subject, without the Ego, and concerning Buxtehude we are called again and again to find a perspective, while at the same time attempting to find ourselves.”■

This article was first published as a chapter in the book Horizonte des Hörens Gerd Zacher, ed. Matthias Geuting (ISBN 3-89727-322-5, ISBN 978-3-89727-322-1, PFAU-Verlag, 2006), pp. 245–258.

Stephanie Burgoyne obtained her ARCT in piano performance in 1990 from the Royal Conservatory of Toronto. She holds the associateship in organ performance from Western Conservatory (now Conservatory Canada), the A.R.C.C.O. from the Royal Canadian College of Organists, and earned an artist diploma in organ performance from Western University, while at the same time obtaining a Ph.D. in mathematics. 

She has served as organist and minister of music at St. Jude’s Anglican Church, Brantford, Ontario, where she instituted both a semi-annual concert series and an organ recital series. In 2011, she became music director and organist at St. Paul’s United Church in Paris, Ontario, where she also began a concert series. She performs recitals both as a soloist and with William Vandertuin. Burgoyne teaches mathematics at Laurier University.

Although much has been written about Sir Charles Villiers Stanford, it is still difficult to understand why (apart from his church music) so little of his output of over 200 compositions is often performed—in particular, his organ works, which include the Six Occasional Preludes (op. 182), Three Preludes and Fugues (op. 193), Six Short Preludes and Postludes (op. 101, op. 105) and his organ sonatas (opp. 149, 151–153, 159). A review of recordings and writings about his organ music revealed a need to further explore Stanford’s five sonatas for organ. This article presents my own personal experience with them, in the hope of inspiring others to explore these neglected works. 

Charles Stanford (Dublin 1852–London 1924) was born into a musical family. His father, a lawyer in Dublin, was an amateur cellist and a noted bass singer, good enough to be chosen to sing the title role in Mendelssohn’s Elijah at its Irish premiere in 1847. His mother, an accomplished pianist, played the solo parts in concertos at various concerts in Dublin. Stanford’s parents encouraged their son, providing instruction in violin, piano, organ, and composition. Nevertheless, they felt it beneficial that he pursue a university education as well, leading towards a degree in law. Yet Stanford not only pursued music study in Britain but early on started travelling to the Continent every year to further increase his musical knowledge. (It is worth noting, in view of his study in Leipzig and Berlin, that his interest for study in Germany might have originated with his early teachers, three of whom had been students of Ignaz Moscheles, a Bohemian pianist of German parents, who spent a number of years in Britain. Moscheles returned to Germany in 1846, to serve as professor of piano at the Leipzig Conservatory.)

Stanford studied with Karl Reinecke in Leipzig and Friedrich Keil in Berlin. He was appointed professor of composition at the Royal College of Music in London in 1883 and professor of music at Cambridge in 1887. As a teacher, conductor, and composer, he exerted a strong influence over future generations of composers and musicians. His former student Ralph Vaughan Williams is reported to have said that Stanford could adopt the technique of any composer he chose. Stanford is mostly recognized for his choral music, which includes several settings of the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis, and a number of Communion services. He also composed works for solo voice, piano, and organ, as well as orchestral works, including seven symphonies and five Irish rhapsodies.

An examination of Stanford’s organ sonatas reveals that he frequently utilizes many chorale-like phrases. Except for those melodies clearly identified and labeled by Stanford himself, I have decided not to identify any others. 

Sonata No. 1 in F, op. 149

Dated May 1917, it is dedicated to “my old friend Alan Gray” (1855–1935); without subtitle.

I. Allegro molto moderato

The first movement, in common time, opens in F major and is in sonata form. It has some stylistic affinity with the organ sonatas of Josef Rheinberger (1839–1901), who in addition to the usual concluding fugue in most of his organ sonatas would also periodically include a fugal section in the first movement. The principal theme is a two-measure chorale-like phrase in quarter notes; it is restated once, with slight modification (Example 1). Part of this motive is then used for a number of measures, ending with a C-major chord. (The same two-measure theme returns in the final movement, giving this sonata a cyclical structure.)

Stanford then develops this material for thirty-three measures (with the addition of a “trumpet call” on another manual). The exposition section uses very soft dynamics while it serves as a modulating bridge, preparing for the second theme in the tonic minor. The second theme consists of a two-measure fugato subject in sixteenth notes ending in several quarter notes, with the countersubject entering before the subject is complete (Example 2). The opening sixteenth-note portion of the fugato subject continues to appear frequently in different voices, and there is interplay between it and the principal theme, with episodes based on both. Part of the countersubject in augmentation serves as preparation for the recapitulation (in which one can almost hear shades of Stanford’s choral writing). A final restatement of part of the main and secondary themes signals the recapitulation proper, and with the inversion of the “secondary theme” adding further interest, the movement ends very quietly with an octave E-flat. 

II. Tempo di Menuetto

The second movement, in A-flat major, is one of Stanford’s most light-hearted movements for organ. The opening, shown in Example 3, features a dancelike motive in three-quarter time. This motive is stated sequentially twice and is extended by a two-measure eighth-note passage in tenths. Stanford then continues to develop both parts of the subject separately as well as combining them so that the main theme is never far away. The development section utilizes such techniques as inversion, imitation, and modulation. Duplet is changed to triplet motion and added to soprano, alto, and/or pedal parts in turn. After a number of repetitions of the main thematic material, the movement concludes quietly with a restatement of the opening motive. 

III. Allegro maestoso

The third and final movement, in common time and in F minor, is an introduction and fugue (as one finds in many Rheinberger sonatas). The introduction uses the same chorale-like phrase as the first movement. Whereas the first movement starts in F major and ends in F minor, this movement does the reverse (beginning with the bridge passage introducing the fugue subject).

In contrast to the first movement, where the quarter-note chorale-like phrase repeats a number of times without interruption, here each statement alternates with passage runs in triplets and sixteenths (some of which are derived from the countersubject of the first movement’s fugato). After two solo reed additions, the section concludes with a modulation to F major that introduces the key for the fugue subject (which is related to the chorale by using the same three-note opening). The fugue begins with a fairly strict exposition, with a real answer and a “dotted rhythm” countersubject (Example 4). Parts of both themes then are used to create episodes. An imitative passage based on the opening quarter-note motive leads to the fugue’s dotted-rhythm countersubject over a final restatement of the fugue subject in augmentation in the pedal. The recapitulation is prepared for by a repeated appearance of the three-note opening motive and is then established by the chorale-like subject beginning at the final “Maestoso.” After the addition of a solo reed, the sequential three-note chorale subject opening appears a number of times before the movement ends on full organ.

Sonata Eroica No. 2, op. 151

Dated August 1917 and dedicated to “Charles Marie Widor and the great country to which he belongs,” the first and third movements of this sonata refer to two specific battlegrounds where French troops faced very fierce and costly battles during the World War I. Even though Stanford does not quote the French national anthem in its entirety anywhere in the three movements, it does appear in various guises throughout.

I. Allegro moderato

The first movement, in G minor and three-four time, is subtitled “Rheims.” The main theme quotes the hymn O Filii et Filiae, whose text denotes new life and resurrection (Example 5). Stanford may have chosen this tune to relate it to the history of the great cathedral at Rheims, which was burned during World War I. 

The first line presents the main theme in octaves; this theme recurs regularly throughout the movement in various voices. After the first line, Stanford uses sixteenth-note passagework (relating it to some of Widor’s symphonies for organ), which frequently uses the Marseillaise’s melodic rhythms. The themes alternate between extreme agitation (suggesting the hostility of war) and quiet reflection during periods of rest.

Stanford continues to add new material in the middle section, visiting a number of keys (E minor, A-flat major) during development. This section briefly returns to G minor; nevertheless, the movement concludes with a stately reminder of the main theme in G major. 

II. Adagio molto 

The second movement, in E-flat major in common time, presents two distinctly different themes. Might Stanford have intended this as part of a “Requiem Mass” setting (to recall the many deaths on the battlefields)? If so, the first meditative theme might function as the Introit, “Requiem aeternam” (Example 6), while the second theme, with its extensive agitated dotted-rhythm motive depicting the horrific reality of the conflict, might be considered the Sequence, “Dies irae” (Example 7). 

In the loud and boisterous second section, Stanford uses punctuating chords supported by sixteenth notes in the pedal. This is followed immediately by a four-measure imitative polyphonic counterpoint and a restatement of the dotted half-note section, this time in A-flat major. From here on, the chorale tune enters (in part) now and then, prepared for by polyphonic imitation and periodically interrupted by the dotted half-note motive, sometimes in diminution. Toward the end there is a complete mood change through the use of the same four-note motive again. The movement ends as it began.

III. Allegro moderato

The third movement is subtitled “Verdun.” The battle for Verdun was one of the fiercest and costliest battles between the French and German armies during the First World War, and cost an estimated one million lives, without gaining any advantages on either side. This movement quotes the French national anthem melodically and rhythmically more strongly than any of the other movements. It opens with a few loud chords, followed immediately by agitated two-part scale-like passages in sixteenths (Example 8). The chordal sections continue to alternate with fast-moving, sixteenth-note episodes that include parts of the Marseillaise (Example 9). Stanford then develops the themes using modulation, sequence, and imitation. Although this movement contains many quiet sections, it is generally loud, and the sonata ends with the complete first line of the Marseillaise (beginning with a solo trumpet).

Sonata Britannica No. 3 in D Minor, op. 152 

Dated November 1917, it is dedicated to Sir Walter Parratt (English organist and composer, 1841–1924). This sonata contains the most recognizable melodies; the first movement is based on the hymn tune St. Mary and the third movement is built on the tune Hanover. 

I. Allegro non troppo ma con fuoco

The first movement, in D minor, opens with dotted half-note accumulating chords in 12/8 time (Example 10). Even though there are a number of different texts for the St. Mary tune, based on the forte dotted half-note opening section (which repeats in various ways throughout the movement), it is hard to imagine any other text fitting the music except that composed by Cardinal John Henry Newman, the first verse of this hymn beginning with the creedal statement, “Firmly I believe and truly, God is Three and God is One.” Thus Stanford keeps quoting selected phrases of the St. Mary tune in different voices and maintains interest by alternating loud and soft sections using both themes. There is a short section in the key of D major before returning to D minor, and the movement concludes with some wonderfully quiet melodic sections using the St. Mary tune.

II. (Benedictus), Larghetto

The second movement, “Benedictus,” in B-flat major, emerges from an opening melody in common time (Example 11). In the sixth measure, Stanford adds what might be perceived as an interlude (or comment) on this melody (Example 12). This alternating pattern continues until the piu mosso designation in D-flat major where the manual parts make a “hesitating” octave jump before the opening melody continues and the pedal adds to the hesitancy with off-beat eighth notes. Following this, we hear a section characterized by upward chordal octave skips where Stanford asks for reed stops to be added to the ensemble. One can imagine that these bold, ascending chords paint the text “Hosanna in the highest” of the Benedictus (Example 13). There then follows a development utilizing all the previous themes. The movement ends quietly with the opening melody. 

III. Allegro molto e ritmico

The third movement, in 3/4 time and overall in D major, is based on the tune Hanover, and although it is sixteen pages long, presents little in new or innovative ideas. It variously quotes parts of the tune and uses these for further development. There are many short imitative lines, loud emphatic chordal statements, as well as equally short melodic lines with varied accompaniment. The movement ends with a setting of Hanover in its entirety and a repeat of the last line, which adds an energetic close to this sonata.

Sonata Celtica No. 4, op. 153 

Composed 1918–1920, this sonata was dedicated “To my friend Harold Darke” (English organist-composer, 1888–1976). 

I. Allegro molto moderato

The first movement, in C minor and 3/4 time, shows the most Germanic influence of all of Stanford’s compositions; its contrapuntal nature brings to mind the first sonata by Josef Rheinberger (which in turn is related to the style of Bach). This reminds us that no composer lives in isolation or is ignorant of historical models.

After introducing the principal theme (Example 14), Stanford presents a simple melody in various voices, which alternates with the main subject (or parts thereof). This continues until the addition of modified thematic material in an eighth-note pattern leading to another setting of the melody. Following a key change to C major the melody is then enhanced by a running sixteenths pattern in the tenor (Example 15). After reiterating parts of the main theme, Stanford concludes the movement with a number of repeated chords over off-beat pedal notes, reinforcing the C-major ending. In just a few measures Stanford quickly moves from Germanic counterpoint (as in Rheinberger) to an English choral music style. 

II. Tema con variazioni

The second movement, in A-flat major and common time, is a set of variations, sometimes based on melody and other times on harmony. The written-out lower mordent in single notes, which opens the movement, is a motive that appears fairly often (Example 16). At the second variation, there is a time signature change to 6/4 with much use of the imitative lower-mordent motive. In the third variation (in common time), we hear a short reminder of the first movement, with Stanford inverting part of the opening subject (Example 17). This section also features the lower-mordent motive in diminution in the pedal. The movement then returns to material based on excerpts of the original theme at “Tempo della thema” of the fourth variation, which closes the movement quietly.

III. St. Patrick’s Breastplate

The third movement is mostly based on a hymn to the Trinity, a text ascribed to St. Patrick (372–466), translated by Cecil Frances Alexander, set to an ancient Irish hymn melody (St. Patrick) in an arrangement by Stanford. There are also references to the tune Gartan (known to many in North America as “Love came down at Christmas”). The movement begins with forte octaves sounding the first five notes of the hymn, then chordal support ending on a whole-note D-major chord (Example 18). This repeats sequentially a third higher and modifies the opening material, ending in C minor where it introduces the passacaglia unison theme in the pedal (Example 19). The accompaniment to the passacaglia subject appears three times, each time increasing in volume and number of voices. The melody then moves to the soprano, supported by chords and imitative counterpoint, slowly eliminating some voices to a quiet reduction to three-part harmony. Here Stanford introduces the tune Gartan (Example 20).  

Part of this new theme is then developed until the poco piu lento in 6/4 time, when we hear again a reminder of the passacaglia theme. This is accompanied by an accumulative two-note upward chordal leap, emphasizing the beginning of the chorale on the manual, which eventually is supported by rhythmic pedal in octaves. This section gradually becomes softer, utilizing a two-part passage in sixths leading to another passacaglia section, slightly modified (Example 21), which is repeated a number of times with different accompaniment. The following section leads to manuals and pedal imitating and reinforcing each other. After a pedal solo is the final statement of fragments of Gartan and the main theme, which get stronger in preparation for the final entry of the St. Patrick tune. 

Sonata No. 5, op. 159, Quasi una fantasia 

Dated May 1918 with a first printing in 1921, the whole of this sonata is based on Stanford’s own tune Engelberg, written in 1904, when he was in Switzerland. In contrast to the other four, this sonata is not in three distinct movements, but in cyclical form. All three of its sections are based on the same thematic material. 

The first section (Allegro moderato), in A major and common time, opens with the first line of the hymn in octaves (Example 22). It is followed immediately by similar statements using actual note values as well as diminution of the opening three notes of the tune in four parts. This continues with arpeggiated chords in sixteenths (again based on the first three notes) followed by a short chordal section finishing on the dominant. Here Stanford introduces a dotted-rhythm accompaniment (Example 23), which adds to and alternates with previous material until we hear the first line of the hymn as a solo line over triplet accompaniment. It then returns to chordal sections with the solo first line interspersed and modulated until it is stated hymn-like in homophonic style. Stanford then uses parts of the previous thematic material to prepare for the second section.

The second section (Allegretto non troppo mosso), in F# minor, is in 9/8 time and is based on the opening notes of the hymn in diminution (Example 24). A gentle, unison eighth-note passage leads to and serves as the accompaniment for a melody based on the (modified) second line of the hymn on the Swell manual. These different parts continue to interact with each other until the key change to G-flat major, where Stanford returns to the first line of the hymn in 3/4 time. The main subject then continues in the alto-tenor part with a new countersubject in the soprano. When the main theme returns to the soprano, it is undergirded by an eighth-note passage in the pedal before returning to F# minor and 9/8 time. Whereas in the opening section, the (modified) melodic fragment was in the tenor, accompanied by triplet eighths, the roles are here reversed, the melody being in the soprano with triplet eighths in the tenor. A chromatic rise in the soprano is followed by a reiteration of part of the second measure of the hymn-tune and with one last ascending chromatic scale following a descending scale in the pedal, concludes this second section on an A-major dominant-seventh chord.

The third section (Allegro), in 2/4 time and in A major, is a fugal treatment of the last two measures of the hymn tune (Example 25). Although this motive alternates with reminders of other parts of the hymn tune, it returns regularly, either in the tenor or soprano, and it is periodically accompanied by sixteenth-note passages. A modulatory bridge, which features the fugato motive in the pedal, leads to the first complete statement of the hymn melody in quarter notes in A-flat major, supported by staccato pedal eighth notes. After a return to A major, Stanford continues to develop the fugato motive sequentially and imitatively with interludes based on other parts of the tune. This development prepares for the entry of the “Allegro Moderato, ma più largamente” indication of the Engelberg tune in its entirety. The movement concludes after a number of repetitions of the last three notes of the tune, and after a climbing pedal passage, ends gloriously on the complete last line of the hymn, triple forte in A major. 

Some final thoughts

It appears from the foregoing analysis that sonatas one and five treat thematic material differently than do sonatas two through four. In sonata one, Stanford uses the same thematic material throughout the three movements; sonata five comprises one complete movement with three separate sections based on the same theme. Sonatas two through four consist of three separate movements, each with its own theme. In addition, their second movements are derived from a sacred Latin text or from a model from the Middle Ages.