Fanfare Magazine Issue 47:2 (Nov/Dec 2023)
Allison Eck (Orchestral VII)
Music of the Spirit: An Interview with Barbara Harbach
I was new to the music of Barbara Harbach, and I’m very glad to have had the chance to get to know her work and interview her. Below is a transcript of my exchanges with her via email, in which she elaborated extensively about the musical portraits she paints in the latest album from MSR featuring her work, exquisitely performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra.
First, I’d love to know what inspired you to compose the set of pieces on this album, the seventh installment of the London Philharmonic Orchestra’s recordings of your orchestral works. Why did you want to tell the story of Sacred Sun, an 18-year-old Osage woman who, in 1827, joined 11 other people from her tribe on a perilous journey to Europe? Why is it important to give new life to African American spirituals? And how does Choices and Remembrances – Suite in One Movement tie it all together?
I lived in Missouri for 16 years from 2003 to 2016, and came to love the landscape, and also the Indigenous peoples and their histories, both the triumphs and the tragedies. When I came across the story of Sacred Sun, I knew I had to tell her story through music.
Sacred Sun or Mi-Ho’n-Ga, (1809?–1836?), was an 18-year-old young woman who left her Osage fur-trapping family and friends in Saline County, central Missouri, to travel to France. She was a beautiful woman, and the French embraced her and her fellow Osage travelers. Lauded and treated royally, she stayed in luxury hotels, ate rich and exotic foods, and attended French operas, arriving in fancy carriages. As the French tastes turned to other exoticisms, the Osage people, along with their manager, became destitute. Sacred Sun had twin daughters that were born in Belgium, and she gave one away to a wealthy Belgian woman. The Osage spent the next few years traveling in Europe. Fortunately, when the Marquis de Lafayette, French hero of the American Revolutionary War, heard about Sacred Sun and her Osage companions, he sent them back to America. When she returned to St. Louis in 1830, her tribe had moved to the Oklahoma territory near Fort Gibson.
Following the Sacred Sun celebrates the individual voice and unique culture of Sacred Sun and the Osage people through a narrative musical composition, telling her story and trying to correct possible misunderstandings and commodification of native cultures. Her story is told through a mosaic of music, recognizing her contributions as unique as well as acknowledging her own tribal customs. With this music we hope to raise awareness of the rich cultural contributions of American Indian women to Missouri’s history and culture. The purpose of the music is not to speak for a native culture or tradition, but through music to celebrate the undervalued achievements of native voices.
The music is inspired by the life of Sacred Sun, a unique and daring woman who had experiences and opportunities in Europe beyond her wildest dreams, and then returned to her Osage tribe that were forcibly displaced from Missouri and exiled to Oklahoma. The goal is to recognize Sacred Sun as seen through the empathetic eyes and heart of a composer who lives over 200 years later and admires Sacred Sun’s strength and courage to embark on a journey, which today would be analogous to traveling to a nearby moon or planet.
The first movement, Anticipation—Traveling to St. Louis, expresses the excitement of these courageous men and women on a journey to St. Louis and then on to France; the tragedy of losing the furs that would pay for their trip when their boat capsized; and the determination to restock their furs and continue with their travel plans.
Arrival in France portrays the glitter of Paris, seeing new and wondrous things and places, and experiencing new music such as a waltz and exhilarating dance rhythms.
The third movement, Lullaby for a Lost Child, conveys the deep grief of leaving one of her twins in a strange land and handing her baby over to an unknown fate, by use of restless harmonies and searing melodies.
Looking for a Homeland, the last movement, follows the Osage, one of the first nations forced to travel to Oklahoma. It depicts their conflicting emotions of anger, agitation, and sadness at being forced to leave their homes, grief at leaving the dead and dying along the way, the anxiousness and uncertainty of a new place, the sense of resignation that life as they knew it is gone, and the faint hope of survival as they neared their new home.
While I was inspired to write a piece for orchestra based on another displaced people, African American spirituals, I came up with the word spiritualis, and later found that it has Latin roots, spīrituālis (of breathing, of the spirit), spīritus (breath, breathing), and -ális (meaning “ending”). Spiritualis could also mean a kind of wind instrument, of breathing, spiritual, of the spirit, or wind or air. All these words also fit the meaning of African American spirituals. Another inspiration was the memory of my mother singing spirituals to me as a little girl, and I treasure those memories, as the memories of singing William L. Dawson’s spirituals. During 1899–1900 Dawson worked at the Tuskegee Institute and is well known for his rich textures and the lushness of his sonorities.
Fantasy and Fugue on “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” begins with a dramatic fantasy section that also includes a lyrical rendition of the melody. Solo woodwinds introduce the various sections, and the lively fugue subject is based on this beloved tune. All the instruments participate with countermelodies, imitation, augmentation, and then all join in fortissimo rising to Heaven.
“Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” is an African American spiritual and one of the best-known Christian hymns. Since the spiritual probably came from the oral tradition as a call-and-response style, the date it was written is unknown. The pentatonic melody and the structure allow for improvisation and encourage the performers to lead the audience to a state of ecstasy with powerful imagery, rhetoric, and possibly coded lyrics. The song uses the theme of death to remind us of the glories that await in Heaven after leaving this world of suffering and tragedy. The text refers to the Old Testament account (2 Kings 2) of the Prophet Elijah’s ascent into Heaven by chariot. The performances in the late 19th century by the Hampton Singers and the Fisk Jubilee Singers of Fisk University brought the song to larger audiences. J. B. T. Marsh includes an early version of text and tune in his 1876 publication The Story of the Jubilee Singers, with their Songs. The earliest known recording of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” was made in 1909 by the Fisk Jubilee Singers. In 2002, the U.S. Library of Congress chose “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” as one of 50 recordings to be added to the National Recording Registry. The spiritual was also included in Songs of the Century by the Recording Industry Association of America and the National Endowment for the Arts.
“Give Me Jesus” is also known as ”And I Heard the Mourner Say,” a traditional African American spiritual. The text references Matthew 16:26 and other passages in the Book of Matthew regarding the Judgment Day. In 1845 Reverend Jacob Knapp, a Baptist minister from New York, published the earliest known version of “Give Me Jesus,” followed by publications by the Methodists. The song was popular in the mid-19th century through hymnals and camp meetings. The Fisk Jubilee singers in 1873 published a version that is still popular today. Nineteenth-century songwriters such as Fanny Crosby published versions of the song, “Take the World, but Give Me Jesus.” The song is still being recorded in the 21st century, with singers Vince Gill and Fernando Ortega as well as others. This lyrical setting introduces the melody with horn and woodwinds. A recurring melody between verses reinforces the text, “Give me Jesus.” The interludes use either pizzicato strings or staccato xylophone. Amid key changes, duets occur between horn and trombone, and later bassoon and clarinet. In the last two verses there are ecstatic trumpet flourishes, capturing the improvisatory feel of spirituals.
The lyrics to “Wade in the Water” were first co-published in 1901 in New Jubilee Songs as Sung by the Fisk Jubilee Singers by Frederick J. Work and his brother, John Wesley Work Jr. The Sunset Four Jubilee Singers made the first commercial recording of “Wade in the Water” in 1925. The spiritual is associated with songs of the Underground Railroad. For example, Harriet Tubman used the song “Wade in the Water” to tell slaves who were trying to escape to get off the trail and go into the water; that way the dogs and slavecatchers could not sniff out and follow their trail. Walking through water would not leave a scent that dogs could follow. “Wade in the Water” begins with a pulsing bass and cello, with the upper strings carrying the melody with a slight swing. Following stanzas use the woodwinds with imitation, then brass and winds and strings, followed by a walking bass right before an orchestral outburst. A softer section with muted trumpet carrying the melody precedes a fugue that begins with the strings. The full orchestral joins in for an affirmative:
Didn’t my Lord deliver Daniel well –
Then why not every man?
“Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child” or “Motherless Child” is an African American spiritual dating back to the era of slavery in the United States. The song is an expression of pain and despair depicting the hopelessness of a child torn or sold from his or her parents. The Fisk Jubilee singers gave an early performance in the 1870s, and it was heard frequently during the Civil Rights Movement. It has many versions and has been recorded by many artists such as Paul Robeson and Mahalia Jackson. “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child” begins with the basses and celli playing a descending chromatic line, and then the clarinet and horn join them with the melody. Short dissonant interludes separate the stanzas. Key changes between verses use various instrumentations with counter melodies, imitation, and instrumental comments similar to the call-and-response style. The piece ends quietly almost as if in mourning, “A long, long way from home.”
Fantasy and Fugue on “They Crucified My Lord” is also known as “He Never Said a Mumblin’ Word,” “They Hung Him on a Cross,” “Mumblin’ Word,” “Crucifixion,” and “Easter,” and the hymn name is known as Sufferer. The song recounts the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, telling how he was nailed to the cross, pierced in the side by a spear, hung his head and died, all the while keeping a noble and dignified silence. Like much traditional folk music, the lyrics may vary from version to version, but still convey the same story.
Fantasy and Fugue on “They Crucified My Lord” is an intertwining and intersecting of three spirituals: “They Crucified My Lord;” “There is a Balm in Gilead;” and “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.” The Fantasy begins slowly, heavily, mournfully, with the full orchestra loudly mourning the crucifixion with chords of angry disbelief. Then the brass takes up the melody with imitation, leading into “There is a Balm in Gilead” with countermelodies, followed by a fugue based on the hymn’s melody. “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” is superimposed on “There is a Balm in Gilead.” The fugue is interrupted by another statement of “There is a Balm in Gilead,” and as the fugue continues it leads into the more tension-filled material of the Fantasy, portraying a loud outburst of grief.
“When I Cross That River” is one of my newly composed spirituals, with several sections. It begins with mournful, earthly existence melodies, followed by a lively and joyful rousing section of going to Heaven with full chords, texture, key and meter changes, all with vibrant orchestration. “When I cross that river, what a day that will be!” highlights strings, brass, and woodwind solos, plus full ensembles, all with full lush chords. “When I Cross That River” began life as a chorus from my musical Tom and Sally, based on the relationship between Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings.
We all have many feelings and emotions, the cry of heartbreak, enduring love, humor, pathos, giddiness, allusions to music, literature, art, liquor, and food. Choices and Remembrances—Suite in One Movement is looking back on the choices we made and remembering that some were agonizing choices, and remembering them brings back bitter memories, while other memories trace back to the innocence of childhood, and those choices were often filled with delight and love.
The piece is multi-sectional with eight sections, almost like a musical stream of consciousness:
- The first section is desolate and solemn, with the strings introducing the mournful melody and later developing countermelodies.
- The waltz brings a change of mood, featuring two themes with various solos that are then interrupted by the brass.
- The beginning melody returns briefly and now features the trumpet, piccolo, flute, and horn before juxtaposing playful, happy childhood memories that are now long past. In 6/8 time, melodies and countermelodies careen together, reminiscent of the skipping music enjoyed by children.
- Then comes a choice we made that brings a horrific and dark memory, melancholic and tinged with regret. The slow, contemplative music begins with an ostinato melody for solo violin, then follows imitation, canons, more ostinatos, and ending with tension building in the double bass.
- Relief comes momentarily with a memory of nostalgia, with alternating 2/4 and 4/4 led by the trumpet, horn, and bassoon, crescendoing to a quick climax that disappears and dissolves into the shadows.
- The haunting melody of dark memories returns with much imitation, leading to dissonant chords of regret that breaks the movement’s momentum.
- The waltz returns with a new counterpoint, ending quietly.
- A noble theme of hope is superimposed over a bouncing and rhythmic fugue lined out by the cellos touting various key changes. Although dark memories intrude in the fugue, this last section combines and interweaves all the themes, leading to a parade of melodies that remind us of the immortal lyrics of Paul Anka, sung by Frank Sinatra, “I Did It My Way”:
Regrets, I’ve had a few,
But then again, too few to mention….
As a clarinetist, I couldn’t help but notice the many exposed clarinet moments throughout all three pieces. For instance, I love the opening statement by the clarinet in the second movement of Following the Sacred Sun. What is the clarinet “saying” here, if it can even be put to words?
The clarinet is a very versatile instrument. It can portray many different moods from great sadness and melancholy to a warm, sensuous sound to a perky dance band and jazz style. It is also capable of playing softly or loudly braying and is quite athletic in its ability to play arpeggios and fast sections that viscerally excite the listener. In the second movement of Following the Sacred Sun, the clarinet sets the tone for the array of dances that are to follow.
Your music makes for extremely pleasant listening, even in its more painful, heart-wrenching moments. One example is the third movement of Following the Sacred Sun. I’ve always been drawn to this type of achingly gorgeous music. What compositional techniques do you employ when working with grief or struggle as subject matter? I think it’s possible that some might mistake you as being an exclusively “optimistic” composer—but I suspect that the most-life affirming music often arises from an awareness of despair, too.
Yes, I sometimes write the most cheerful, optimistic music when I am in a dark place, and the reverse is also true, I write melancholy music while I am at one with the universe. It was a bit different writing the third movement of “Following the Sacred Sun.” I kept imagining how a mother might feel if she had to give away a baby that she carried and gave birth to. Her agony and heart break are felt with the wisps of melodies, and reduced orchestration to only one player on violin I, violin II, viola, cello and double bass with the woodwinds accompanied by the triangle. Perhaps the saying is true that you can’t appreciate the highs if you never experience the lows.
Can you tell me about your process of reimagining the spirituals invoked in Spiritualis—Suite for Orchestra? How do you breathe new ideas into them and retain their essence at the same time?
Spirituals are an amazing genre in music! They come out of the deepest and darkest part of the soul, but there is also a joyousness and hope that overcomes the bleak. I truly enjoy adding fugues, counterpoint, imitation, combining various melodies at the same time into one whole, and then letting the instruments interact, interweave, and complement each other. One only has to sing or hear William L. Dawson’s arrangements of spirituals to know the range of emotion and passion that spirituals contain.
On a practical note, how do you decide which instruments should carry the melody in a given composition?
Often, it is the ethos of the piece that determines if the melody should go to the oboe, viola, or trumpet—soulful, triumphant, mournful, or bitter. And sometimes, it’s oops, the bassoon hasn’t done anything yet, got to get some action here.
I’m interested in your use of counterpoint to create beauty in your work. Why do you think counterpoint is so aesthetically appealing? Do you invent melodies with their contrapuntal potential in mind, or do you devise a tune first and then decide whether you can go that route with them?
I love canon, imitation, fugues, augmentation, and diminution. I usually write a melody and it turns into a fugue without much alteration. All these types of contrapuntal composition keep the melody in the listener’s ear, but always a bit differently, so the listener can follow the themes weaving in and out. When I start a piece, I can almost hear Bach say, “When in doubt, write a fugue!”
Choices and Remembrances deals primarily with abstract emotional concepts as opposed to storylines or characters. But I suspect you’re still trying to create a sense of direction, yes? Perhaps the listener becomes the main character in a piece like this?
Choices and Remembrances is a musical stream of consciousness. As we look back on our lives, the memories do not return in a linear fashion from childhood until now, some memories have just occurred, some were in childhood, some were horrendous, and some delightful. You are correct, “Perhaps the listener becomes the main character in the piece.” Music often invokes a memory, and as the music changes, so does the memory.
HARBACH Following the Sacred Sun. Spiritualis. Choices and Remembrances • David Angus, cond; London PO • MSR 1742 (69:30)
Barbara Harbach has been interviewed and reviewed many times in Fanfare history, and for good reason—she is a solidly excellent composer who has helped keep tonal music alive in a way that feels fresh and invigorating. Ken Meltzer called her work “music of substance that falls graciously on the ear” (Fanfare 45:2); Colin Clarke referred to her as a “storyteller in sound” (Fanfare 43:5); and Maria Nockin noted that her music is “accessible to the novice and presents interesting textures and sonorities to the connoisseur” (Fanfare 35:6).
I won’t go into detail on the subject matter of the orchestral works on this 16th volume of MSR’s Harbach recordings, since she herself does so in the interview above—but I will just say that it’s very clear that Harbach engages deeply with the stories she seeks to tell. Her research is exhaustive, and she is cinematic in her sonic depiction of people, places, and events.
The London Philharmonic Orchestra honors the spirit of Harbach’s work throughout the album. In Following the Sacred Sun, the ensemble introduces the story of Sacred Sun with both gusto and majesty. The second movement is thoughtful and determined; the third, anguished and lovely (that movement was my favorite of the whole album, probably because I am naturally pulled in the direction of the bittersweet). In the last movement, the trumpet sits atop the rest of the orchestra for much of the time, and the balance is just right.
The spirituals strewn throughout Spiritualis are inventively orchestrated, and the musicians play them with depth and richness. Choices and Remembrances, the last piece on the album, has a complex emotional texture that is conveyed well by the orchestra.
Overall, this is a very enjoyable new release. I came back to listening to it a few weeks after first consuming it, and the sensation was like that of settling in for a conversation with an old friend.
Allison Eck This article originally appeared in Issue 47:2 (Nov/Dec 2023) of Fanfare Magazine.