By Professor Carol on Dec 03, 2014 03:00 am
Would you be surprised to learn that the Cradle Songis a serious genre within the Western classical tradition? Of course, people around the world sing to babies and need no musical training to do so! They generally pass on the same folk-based tunes their parents sang to them. Consequently, we can assume that the melodies Mary sang to Baby Jesus would be Middle Eastern in terms of pitch content and expressive intonation, and that the rhythms would follow the prose rhythm of Aramaic.
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Francesco Trevisani (1706)
For certain her tunes would have been different from the symmetrical Italianate melodies we sing in our Western lullabies. Still, it’s precisely Western tradition that has shaped our ears when it comes to cradle songs, and not the peasant songs of a Jerusalem hillside.
Cradle songs had a rebirth in the 19th-century as a type of formal art song. They became popular in aristocratic salons and as sheet music in the new music stores catering to the growing middle class. Composers who ordinarily wrote sonatas, concertos, and operas penned lullabies, utilizing both folk texts and newly created poems.
These lullabies reflected a pan European idealized interest in folk genres. Many used the French titleberceuse while those in German were calledWiegenlieder (“rocking songs”). Often they were cast in “compound meter”—a rhythmic pattern made up of groups of three beats. You can see how natural compound rhythm sounds by counting the pattern out loud, several times, slightly emphasizing the underlined number in each grouping.
1 2 3 4 5 6
Can you feel the gentle oscillation? Isn’t that exactly what you want to rock a baby to sleep? What could be more effective to paint the scene of Jesus’ birth?
Of the accomplished composers turning to the diminutive cradle songs, none was greater than Johannes Brahms (1833-1897). And no, I’m not speaking of the “famous” one we sing to the words “Lullaby, and Goodnight.” Little could he have predicted that that one, published as Wiegenlied: Guten Abend, gute Nacht” (Cradle Song: Good Evening, Good Night) in 1868, would become a mainstay of nurseries across the world.
Instead, I’d like to tell you about another of Brahms’ cradle songs. He called it Geistliches Wiegenlied, or Spiritual Lullaby (Two Songs, Op. 91, no. 2). It was written to celebrate a child born to two very special musician friends and published in 1884 as the second of a pair of songs.
The first time I heard Geistliches Wiegenlied, I was a student, hired to accompany a violist in a recital. The scoring for alto voice, viola, and piano struck me as unusual, but I later learned it was typical both of its era and of Brahms’ preference for rich, lower ranges.
At the first rehearsal, the violist plopped the music in front of me, introduced me to the mezzo soprano, and off we went. I was utterly captivated. It’s strange to jump up and down in excitement at a cradle song, but I did.
The beguiling text comes from a German translation of a poem by Lope de Vega. For Germans, accustomed to snowy Christmases, the poet’s image of angels stilling the Palm trees would have evoked a tender response. And yet, the underlying message of the text is restless and prophetic. It foretells Christ’s ministry and death and thus fits well into Advent.
No recording, in my opinion, can match the historic performances of Jessye Norman who often sang this song. (You can download it here.) But you’ll also find other vocalists performing it, whom you may like even better. For violists, it’s a joy to play. Whichever performers you choose, listen several times. Realize that it takes a fine violists and mature singer to find the right level of intensity for this piece. Tender, yet strong. Vibrant, yet humble.
Follow the text when you listen. Think about how the opening section with viola and piano seems to make a complete song. Then, the vocal line enters, ascending luxuriously as if it were pulled from toffee. The middle of the song is more agitated and departs from the undulating meter. But then, the pastoral introduction with its lullaby atmosphere returns.
Be prepared to fall in love. May this cradle song become your newest favorite piece of this Advent season.
Die ihr schwebet Um diese Palmen In Nacht und Wind, Ihr heilgen Engel, Stillet die Wipfel! Es schlummert mein Kind. | All of you who hover Around these palms In the night and the wind, You holy angels, Be still, O ye treetops, For my child is slumbering. |
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Ihr Palmen von Bethlehem Im Windesbrausen, Wie mögt ihr heute So zornig sausen! O rauscht nicht also! Schweiget, neiget Euch leis und lind; Stillet die Wipfel! Es schlummert mein Kind. | You palms from Bethlehem In the howling wind, How is it possible to bluster With such wrath today! O make not such a roar! Be silent, bend yourselves Softly and gently down; Be still, O ye treetops! For my child is slumbering. |
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Der Himmelsknabe Duldet Beschwerde, Ach, wie so müd er ward Vom Leid der Erde. Ach nun im Schlaf ihm Leise gesänftigt Die Qual zerrinnt, Stillet die Wipfel! Es schlummert mein Kind. | This little boy from heaven Is patient through the pain, Oh, how tired he has become From the sorrow of the earth. Look, now in his sleep, Quietly eased, His suffering has softened. Be still, O ye treetops! For my child is slumbering. |
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Grimmige Kälte Sauset hernieder, Womit nur deck ich Des Kindleins Glieder! O all ihr Engel, Die ihr geflügelt Wandelt im Wind, Stillet die Wipfel! Es schlummert mein Kind. | The fierce cold Forces itself through us, What can I use to cover up The little baby’s limbs? O angels, all of you, Ye who, winged, Wander across the wind, Be still, O ye treetops! For my child is slumbering. |
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| Translation by Carol Reynolds |
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