B (12:48)

Thank you.

A (13:15)

This builds to an agonized first climax. You might imagine Boulanger would use the gigantic orchestra she has available to her, but instead she gives this moment just to the violins. I'm Reminded of a kind of anti Mahler's 9th Symphony. Here in the last movement of Mahler 9, the violins play many lines that are like this, but in a profoundly peaceful way, full of acceptance. Boulanger does the exact opposite. The line churns and struggles before landing on music of profound pain and suffering.

B (13:52)

Sam.

A (14:29)

Boulanger now starts to develop this music slightly, taking the initial oscillating idea and again thanks to John Douglas Perkins for pointing this out and expanding it to turn it into something marked and dangerous rather than brooding. This idea, first introduced by the trumpet, will lead us to much faster and more agitated music and the first hints at the large orchestra employed for the piece. This is building to the first true climax in the piece with remarkable intensity for a 22 year old composer. Boulanger takes her initial ideas and puts them the oscillating notes at the beginning, which have now been transformed into that slightly militaristic dotted rhythm, and the jagged arpeggios which are no longer only expressive, but are now a bit desperate. We arrive with a cry of pain to the top of this hill. In just the first two and a half minutes or so of this 25 minute piece, Boulanger has taken us straight into her dark world. The harmonic language is unusual, the orchestration is unusual, and the emotional intensity of the piece is unusual for a French composer as well. This is Boulanger's work through and through. As this violent eruption winds down, the oscillating melody returns and sets the stage for the entry of the chorus and the second section of the piece. Boulanger takes the text of Psalm 130 and translates it to French, but she leaves the Hebrew word for God, Adonai in place, a very interesting choice that lends a different color to the smooth and rounded sound of the French. The tone, as you can imagine, remains dark and brooding, with the choir intoning these from the depths of the abyss. I Yahweh Adonai, hear my prayer.

B (17:27)

Sa.

A (18:06)

Boulanger takes from her grab bag of influences in this music, but as always, makes things her own. The next phrase, where we would expect to hear more Boulanger has the choir express painful sighs while instructing them to keep their mouths closed, as if they are unable to speak openly. This is punctuated by a strong rhythmic motive in the low strings and it's followed by a newly agitated tempo in the next line of the text, which is sung not like a prayer, but as more of a desperate. May your ears be attentive to the sounds of my prayer. J. This sighing motive has started to become prominent in the piece. It finishes this phrase as well, though this time Boulanger assigns it to the whole orchestra. A half step sighing motive is a cliche in music for a reason. It works, and Boulanger makes it an essential part of the text's way of communicating, though by no means the only part. She also, as I said before, writes music that is beseeching and powerfully striving to be heard, only to fall back onto the sighs again. We now hear perhaps the motto of the whole piece and the first true melodic line as well to the text of the first two lines of the Psalm. Boulanger writes a gently flowing and profoundly moving line led by the altos and basses, the two lines in choirs that usually have the least prominent melodic voice, as opposed to the sopranos and tenors. It's a beautiful choice that also emphasizes the subdued and plaintive nature of this music.

B (20:37)

Sam.

A (21:11)

The development of this theme, still on the same text as before, is more passionate, incorporating all parts of the choir as well as much of the orchestra, including an organ. The use of the organ, the text, and the dark nature of this piece has, as I said, led some commentators to describe this piece as more like a requiem. And that's not far from the truth, considering early drafts of this music included texts from the traditional requiem text, like the Kyrie. In the end, we always return back to the oscillating theme, this time over haunting renditions of the word Adonai. This leads us to the coda of this second section. Boulanger returns to the opening lines of the psalm. From the depths of the abyss I cry. The orchestration thins out and we meditate one more time on this moving and evocative text. But the harmonies are not like they were at the beginning of this section. Instead, they are far more modal, bringing a kind of archaic sound to this music. In lesser hands, this might sound incongruent, but Boulanger's integration of the text into the music makes it sound like the prayer that it is just perhaps from another time.

B (23:13)

Ram.

A (23:40)

The section concludes with one more powerful call on the text. May your ears be attentive. And then a kind of listless Adonai. The general feeling one gets from Boulanger's use of the text here is one of desperation and faint hope. It leads us to the third section, which starts off in a much more agitated manner than anything we've heard before. And yet it doesn't fully get moving. Yet. We've moved on now to the second part of the text, where Boulanger once again has the altos and basses lead the lines of if you were to take our sins into account, who could withstand them? Yahweh. To this text, Boulanger writes this kind of waiting music, as if waiting for an answer in the same way the text does. The music keeps threatening to break out. It is extremely ominous, with allusions to those arpeggios from the opening introduction. It seems as if something dramatic is about to happen, but we have no idea where we are going to go next. Boulanger makes a powerful choice by splitting this section of the text in half. This allows her to take on the idea of our sins not being withstood, creating a powerful storm of emotion and intensity that that threatens to overwhelm us in an extraordinary moment. Boulanger puts the fear of God right into the music here, especially when she reverts back to the opening lines of the text. And this leads to a massive climax on the big tune from earlier on in the section. And Boulanger returns again and again to the opening lines of the text, as if the mentioning of our sins spawned this massive outpouring of emotion. Boulanger once again repeats her desperate cry to God. This is the most emotionally powerful moment of the piece so far, and it is in many ways the crisis moment of the piece. Motivically, the music is guided by that oscillating melody that has been a constant presence in the music.

B (27:07)

Ram.

A (27:58)

As this dies down, we return to the archaic modal music which introduces section number four of the piece, the voice of the individual. We hear an alto solo again, the rarer of the two female voices for this kind of music, as she takes on that second section of text from the Psalm. Perhaps this time we can make it to the second part of the text, but only through the voice of the individual. The orchestration here is gorgeous. The music is in a gently flowing three with quietly oscillating harps, syncopations, while the alto is accompanied by a solo cello. Once again, she finds a totally unique and individual color. But Boulanger cannot get to the next lines. We return again to our sins as if ruminating on them. But Boulanger starts to slowly move the tempo forward, and the entire alto section of the choir now joins the soloist in a passionate cry of Yahweh. Adonai. The orchestra now takes over and a powerful momentum builds. Perhaps the breakthrough is coming.

B (29:49)

Ram.

A (30:21)

For the moment. No. The tempo is marked, as animated and very rhythmic as the cellos now Begin. A violent and powerful rhythm that seems to be churning against waves of sound in the rest of the orchestra, the momentum is still growing and grows for nearly a minute of music becoming ever more marked and agitated.

B (30:40)

It. Sam.

A (31:45)

And Boulanger denies the breakthrough we all thought was coming. The next lines which I've been keeping from you Forgiveness is in Yahweh, and so he is revered. But Boulanger continuously refuses to provide that same solace. She is writing this amidst lifelong health problems, the death of her father, and the death of Europe and the world that she knew in the immediate aftermath of World War I. It's no wonder that forgiveness from God was not strongly in her mind. And so the grand climax of this section is yet another repetition of if you were to take our sins into account, who could withstand them? Yahweh. The music resolves into a kind of stasis. The harps play an ostinato while the opening arpeggios return in the solo cello. It's almost as if the music is waiting for those next lines, like it can barely believe that they haven't been able to embrace them. Boulanger has stayed on this text for well over half the piece now, but finally we arrive there with a magical transformation from uneasy and static music to a luminous though ambiguous beauty. The next lines are revealed to us by the Forgiveness is in Yahweh, and so he is revered.

B (33:18)

Sa.

A (34:02)

The mezzo soprano alto, then continues on with the next lines of the My soul places its hope in Yahweh I hope I count on your word more than the night watchmen long for the morning Listen throughout this section to the strange yet absolutely gorgeous harmonies in my Patreon exclusive mini episode this week. I'll try to point out some of those to you using the piano, because it's hard to describe them here, but they really don't sound like anything else. It's like a beautiful combination of Debussy, Berg and Wagner all at once.

B (34:35)

Sa.

A (35:11)

It's also fascinating how Boulanger portrays these words of hope while enveloped in this fog of harmonic ambiguity. As the vocal line rises, Boulanger keeps adding more voices from the orchestra. But far from clearing up the harmonic ambiguity, it actually heightens it. The ostinato continues, and as we head towards the final lines of the psalm, uncertainty reigns. And now Boulanger brings in the choir, returning back to the My soul places its hope in Yahweh text. The choir takes over these mysterious rising lines from the orchestra and from the mezzo, creating a gentle cacophony of overlapping harmonies and colors. As this begins to reach another climax, Boulanger makes a fascinating textual choice. The mezzo calls out, though this is easily covered by the massive sound behind her. The next line of text, Israel places its hope in Yahweh, while the choir depart from the text of the Psalms slightly and say, I believe in you, I believe in Yahweh. This humanization and personalization of the text is not a small decision to make for someone who was as religious as Boulanger. It's not easy to catch, obviously, even less so if you don't speak French. But I think it's a gorgeous and truly personal moment in the piece.

B (36:51)

Sam.

A (37:26)

But just as we approach what could be a breakthrough, we return to that invocation of God, that plea from the beginning of the peace. Always we return to the same relentless sense of pleading and helplessness, though this time Boulanger takes it into another direction as we find ourselves in the cold Hoda of the peace. The text for in Yahweh is mercy and the fullness of redemption. It is he who will deliver Israel from all her iniquities. In Yahweh is mercy. Ah, Yahweh Adonai. Now the mezzo is joined by a solo tenor, and the music starts to acquire more tonal grounding, though it is still chock full of those 1910s tonal ambiguities that composers of that period were experimenting with. With just before the Schoenbergian full breakdown of tonality, Boulanger now begins to move the tempo again as we hear those final lines I just read to you, along with a text from earlier, Israel places its hope in Yahweh. Once again, she starts to bring all of her motives together. The oscillating idea, the arpeggio, the rising plaintive lines. But this time it seems finally as if we might be given the musical redemption promised by the text of the psalm. It all culminates in a stunning moment of the clearest F major. But in a shocking swerve, Boulanger disrupts this gorgeous breakthrough by abruptly returning back to the character, harmony and ideas of the opening of the piece. Not only that, the text from the beginning returns as well. All of that effort was, at least for the moment, for nothing. The initial sentiment remains too strongly imprinted on us.

B (40:21)

Ram.

A (40:47)

Boulanger now uses the text of redemption and forgiveness, but over the harmonies of the opening, creating a stark juxtaposition of the forgiving text and the violence and darkness of the music.

B (41:12)

It.

A (41:48)

I didn't want to give that away to you, because I remember when I first heard this final climactic moment, chills ran down my spine. It's as if the first 24 minutes of the piece led to this moment, this cry of despair, helplessness, beseeching God for deliverance. And as this cry dies down, it also seems to have synthesized the ideas of despair and hope. And for the final moments of the piece, the opening of the text and the end of the text are juxtaposed, one low, one high, as this prayer ends in the ambiguity of the time, what would be next for Lilly, for France, for the world?

B (42:29)

Sam.

A (42:54)

Sa. The final bars of the piece are in one of the darkest keys in B flat minor. B flat was an extremely important note and key for Boulanger. In John Douglas Perkins dissertation about the piece, he cites a fascinating an article by Bonnie Jo Dopp entitled Numerology and Cryptography in the Music of Lily Boulanger, the Hidden Program in Cleriere dans le Ciel. Now that's an article about another piece, but it reveals something about Boulanger that I think is very connected to this ending. Boulanger was apparently obsessed with the number 13, and the number 13 appeared many times in her life and in her music. But more importantly for our purposes here, at the end of the piece, B flat was also a note that meant a lot to Boulanger. As Perkins writes, many of Boulanger's darkest or most sorrowful themes appear with B flat pitches or in B flat minor. DOP states that B flat may represent Lilly or more precisely, Boulanger. BB likely represents a diminished or doomed form of the pitch. B. The fateful tone of Psalm 130 and pour les funeral d' un sola for the funeral of a soldier are both represented with the key signature of BB minor. The dedication of the piece at the top of the score is to the memory of my Papa. But the tone of the piece, the beseeching way she uses the text, and the reliance on BB minor, especially at the end, give me the feeling that Boulanger was writing about much more than her deceased father. It's almost a piece that feels like it was written at the end of the world, in a state that is almost in a dream or a hallucination. At times I find this piece almost unbearably powerful, and it's one of my dreams to perform it on the same program as Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Maybe one day. Thanks so much for listening to the show today. We'll have some more exciting stuff for you in a couple of weeks, so don't miss our next episode. If you like what you heard today, please feel free to rate and review the show on Apple Podcasts. It really helps the show gain more visibility. And please send any questions to stickynotespodcastmail.com and if you'd like to support the podcast monetarily, just head over to patreon.com stickynotespodcast thanks and I'll talk to you again after a while.

B (46:03)

Jesus.