PROGRAM NOTES

CODED was curated by Criers Megumi Stohs Lewis and Sarah Darling, and special guest Davóne Tines

ANTONÍN DVOŘÁK (1841-1904) ARR. SARAH DARLING (2017) String Quartet No. 12 in F major, Op. 96 “American” (1893)

One of the most treasured offerings any nation can ever provide to the world is its cultural heritage. A nation that seeks to understand its values, its differences, and its opportunity to share its version of humanity, must speak to the uniqueness of those shared experiences in order to define the cultural fabric of that nation. A measure whereby this can be conceived is through a nation’s musical heritage. The difference, however, in a nation defining its musical heritage versus someone foreign to that nation defining what is, intrinsically, the essence of that is where this program commences with Antonín Dvořák’s String Quartet No. 12 in F Major, Op. 96, the “American” quartet.

It is the summer of 1893, and Dvořák is in Spillville, Iowa, on summer vacation from his position as director of the National Conservatory in New York City, visiting his Czech friend, violinist Josef Jan Kovařík and Kovařík’s family. There Dvořák f inds himself amongst a Czech immigrant community. There are varying estimates on the amount of time it took Dvořák to complete this work—ranging from twelve to fourteen days,— however, it is consistently agreed upon that the sketch was completed in three days. Dvořák inscribed on the last page of the autograph score, “Thank God. I am pleased. It all went so quickly!” The first public performance took place in Boston, 1 January 1894, by the Kneisel Quartet.

This string quartet, arranged by Crier Sarah Darling, opens the program with its first two movements. The third and fourth movements appear later on the program, following the first and second movements of Sorey’s Songs for Death, respectively.

TYSHAWN SOREY (b. 1980) Songs for Death for Bass Baritone and String Orchestra (2024)

World premiere performance of the version for bass-baritone and string orchestra, rewritten for A Far Cry.

The navigation into the aberrant hinterland of Sorey’s Songs for Death invitingly meanders into a harmonic realm, establishing a journey into the weightier discussion of the text. Spirituals, the musical genre birthed out of the bondage and enslavement of African Americans, are songs that inherently capture double meaning. Oftentimes, but not solely, the songs speak to the “troubles of this world,” and the spiritual reward one must look forward to gaining for enduring racial bondage and mistreatment of personhood in their earthly bodies. The three selected spirituals Sorey has chosen to focus on are amongst the more commonly known texts, yet, through soul stirring somber harmonies, compel one to shed their myopic prejudices for a despairing coup d’œil into the terrains of death.

In the composer’s program note, Sorey states:

“...in no way should this song cycle be considered or interpreted as simply a traditional homage or mere ‘arrangements’ of three spirituals. These are not arrangements as such; rather they are re-compositions.”

Sorey’s re-composed “Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?” distinguishes itself from the very beginning, setting up a narrative, like that of a Passion. The lower harmonies at the beginning, intermingled with suspensions falling over the barline, establish the immediacy of anguish imposed by the memory of crucifixion and, as a deeply troubling experience such as this would yield, trembling. Sorey repeats the word—tremble—in two separate moments, invoking a haunting feeling, yet, musically, the beginning of each question, “Were you there when...?” challenges the listener to see the other side of this text, calling the listener, who was not there, to yet reflect on the immensely burdensome experience of losing a loved one.

“Sweet Little Jesus Boy” commences in a harmonically cryptic and lulling 3/4 time, interpolated with 4/4 time asides—reflecting on Jesus’s mistreatment, and how that mistreatment is felt by the enslaved, and those still enduring oppression.

Closing out this grave song cycle with “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” Sorey sets up the music with one of the lowest notes possible on double bass, symbolizing the lowness of the chariot and how deeply ensconced, and profoundly felt, “coming for to carry me home” is. A contrasting fleeting middle section, supported by the text, “If you get there before I do, tell all my friends I am coming too,” speaks to the urgency of leaving a life of oppression. Sorey ends with paraphrased statements of the text, and we are left to wonder where “home” is, as the return of the double bass low C—low C for the chariot, perhaps—carries forth...

TRADITIONAL SET OF SONGS ARR. HENRY THACKER “HARRY” BURLEIGH (1866-1949) ARR. ALEX FORTES (2024)
Were You There When They Crucified My Lord? (Traditional) and Swing Low, Sweet Chariot (Traditional)

Two traditional African American spirituals—“Were You There?” and “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” —arranged by Henry Thacker Burleigh, and further arranged for baritone and strings by Crier Alex Fortes, display Burleigh’s harmonically rich language that draws from the idyll and helped with concertizing the genre. Burleigh, however, always championed the genre as a solemn tribute to the formerly enslaved and oppressed individuals who birthed—and berthed—these double-meaning songs.

In the foreword of Burleigh’s Negro spirituals collection, the following quote regarding spirituals is made:

“The plantation songs known as ‘spirituals’ are the spontaneous outbursts of intense religious fervor, and had their origin chiefly in camp meetings, revivals and other religious exercises. They were never ‘composed,’ but sprang into life, ready made, from the white heat of religious fervor during some protracted meeting in camp or church…and are practically the only music in America which meets the scientific definition of Folk Song…It is a serious misconception of their meaning and value to treat them as ‘minstrel’ songs, or to try to make them funny by a too literal attempt to imitate the manner of the Negro in singing them… Their worth is weakened unless they are done impressively, for through all these songs there breathes a hope, a faith in the ultimate justice and brotherhood of man. The cadences of sorrow invariably turn to joy, and the message is ever manifest that eventually deliverance from all that hinders and oppresses the soul will come, and man—every man—will be free.” [New York, 1917]

When thinking upon central figures with regard to the African American spiritual, it not only yields distinct figures whose life’s work was to take it upon themselves and advocate for the rights of their people through social justice and music, but the manner in which they championed this genre as a lifestyle and inseparable from the essence of American music. Burleigh being one of the choicest advocates for the genre speaks to his ability to connect with Dvořák through the National Conservatory of Music, where Dvořák was the director and Burleigh was studying, cementing one of the most important musical connections in American history. It is through Burleigh’s fervency and advocacy for African American spirituals and traditions that Dvořák and others would come to understand the indispensability of these musical traditions and its originators.

ROBERT MACGIMSEY (1898-1979) ARR. ALEX FORTES (2024) Sweet Little Jesus Boy

The lulling, yet earnest text of the song, Sweet Little Jesus Boy by Robert MacGimsey, has become a staple in the repertory for its meaning and heartfelt sentiment. MacGimsey keeps the musical chords spare, becalming the musical space for the voice to personally and metaphorically recount all that will happen to the child, relating to the difficulties the baby Jesus will endure, and paralleling their own personal oppression that they experienced firsthand.

Words of MacGimsey affixed to the score regarding this song are as follows:

“Sing this song with the simplicity of a lullaby to a child. Never hurry the words. Dwell on the meaningful words here and there according to your own feelings, and maintain no rhythm whatsoever. Bear in mind that this is a meditative song of suppressed emotion, sung by you intimately to the Jesus Child.”

FREDERICK C. TILLIS (1930-2020) ARR. FRANCESCA MCNEELEY Wade in the Water, from Spiritual Fantasy No. 12 (1988) with permission by American Composers Edition (BMI)

Frederick C. Tillis’s Wade in the Water is the second movement from his Spiritual Fantasy No. 12 for String Quartet (1995). It is today premiered as a stand-alone work for string orchestra, as arranged by Crier Francesca McNeeley.

Tillis's inspiration for this movement is the 1901 African American spiritual by the same name. Water, understood as a significant symbol for those escaping to freedom along the Underground Railroad, plays a dual role historically and in this spiritual, as it both aided the masking of scent from the hunting dogs, and served as a symbolic baptism, lustrating their pasts as the enslaved in turn for their manumitted futures.

In the composer’s words about the Spiritual Fantasy, Tillis states:

“The composition of the Spiritual Fantasy for String Quartet pays tribute to the essence of the musical expressions of pathos and triumph over worldly obstacles encountered by a people who found hope and strength through faith in God.”

With a rhythmic vitality coupled with interspersed compound time signatures— 7/4 followed by 6/4 —, Tillis takes the audience on a journey of "wading through the water" firsthand, oscillating between accented lines and monophonic themes that break out in densely harmonic figures, evocative of jazz harmonies. The call and response between the string sections, typically coupled with thematic material and supported by secondary thematic material from different string sections, helps the listener easily identify the theme, yet brings them to the front of their seat with Tillis’s spirited approach. Tillis's use of descriptors like “dense and energetic” and “calm and lively” in the music, while stylizing the piece with rapid alternation of pizzicati and arco passages, rich and dense harmonic chords, and rhythmic variation, speaks to the composer’s aforementioned quote, and how that pathos and triumph are achieved in this compact, solemn, yet, vibrant 5-minute work.

-Isaiah Chapman, 2024

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