Micrologus; Mostly Madrigals

84-11 MOSTLY MADRIGALS

Probably the most widely recognized musical term from the Renaissance is: madrigal. And yet, within the general concept of a madrigal as a piece normally performed by a group of singers, there is a wealth of different styles and a fascinating array of personal idioms which are unrecognized by many listeners.

The musical roots of the madrigal are found in the frottola repertory fostered by Isabella d'Este in the late 15th century at her court in Mantua. The poetic roots are in the movement to establish the sophisticated Italian of Petrarch as the standard literary language in Italy at the beginning of the 16th century, a cause championed by the Venetian nobleman, scholar, and later Cardinal, Pietro Bembo. (The term "madrigal," by the way, very likely derives from matricale, meaning a work in the mother tongue).

The first confluence of these two artistic streams—the musical and the poetic—occurs in the works of lsabella d'Este's personal composer, Bartolomeo Tromboncino, who as early as 1507 was using Petrarch canzonas and sonnets as a basis for musical setting. Frottolas are normally characterized by strophic form, that is, by having more than one stanza of poetry set to the same music, and further, by having repetitions of text and music within each stanza. The high quality poems of Petrarch, however, did not lend themselves so well to such formulaic treatment, a situation which gave impetus to the true madrigal, as we shall see. But still, Tromboncino's Petrarchan settings transcend the formulaic character of the typical frottola and go some way towards embodying Cardinal Bembo's ideals of piacevolezza and gravita (sweetness and dignity).

Here is Tromboncino's frottola on Petrarch's famous sonnet, "Or che'l ciel e la terra." It is sung by Margaret Philpot with the Consort of Musicke directed by Anthony Rooley.

[MUSIC]

You may have been surprised to hear a solo voice with instruments, but that was the most likely arrangement for frottolas, since the melodic interest was concentrated in the top voice and, indeed, frottolas were normally printed with text only in that top voice. More thoroughly vocal in style was the contemporary French chanson, and it seems probable that the chanson as practiced by such composers as Claudin de Sermisy and Clement Jannequin had an influence on the early madrigal. This is strengthened by the fact that two of the earliest and most important madrigal composers in Italy were Frenchmen: Philippe Verdelot and Jacques Arcadelt. Verdelot was the elder of the two and he was the first to publish a collection describing its contents as madrigals. Arcadelt was to eclipse Verdelot in fame, however. His first book of 4-voice madrigals, published originally in 1538, went through 45 known editions into the middle of the next century, and his madrigal, “Il bianco e dolce cigno,” from that collection ranks as the single most popular piece of music from the Renaissance era. We will listen to it in a moment.

What distinguished the new madrigal from the frottola, besides the chanson-like texture, was the form. The sophisticated poetic imagery of Petrarch and his Renaissance emulators made the composers strive to pay closer attention to the relationship between the words and the music. They could do this in a precise way only if a certain passage of music never had to serve more than one phrase of text. In other words, if composers were to try to depict the meaning of specific words or images by musical means, they could do so only by discarding the multiple stanzas and internal repetitions of the frottola. The only sectional repetition found, as a rule, in the madrigal is a vestige of the petite reprise of the French chanson. where the final phrase of text and music is repeated for emphasis. Here, now, is that most famous of early madrigals, “Il bianco e dolce cigno,” by Jacques Arcadelt, as performed by the Capella Antiqua of Munich under Konrad Ruhland.

[MUSIC]

Again, you may have been surprised by the instruments, but while madrigals were most commonly sung unaccompanied, archival references make it clear that instruments took part occasionally.

In the 1540s and 1550s, the madrigal scene was dominated by two Franco-Flemish composers, Adrian Willaert and Cipriano de Rore. Willaert's madrigals are densely-textured, highly-imitative compositions, much like his sacred works, and yet the accents of the language in his madrigals are always set with great care in the individual voices. Rore takes this attention to the text to even greater extremes. His attempt to capture the nuance of the spoken language leads to an almost a-metrical declamation, at times, as in the opening of the piece we are about to hear. Also, Rore sometimes adds to the effect by having all voices declaim the text simultaneously. complete with rhetorical pauses in the midst of the texture. Musically, he experiments with dissonance, chromaticism, and unusual melodic effects, all to provide a distinctive setting of each individual text. For this, he would later be revered by Monteverdi as a father of the new Baroque style.

From his second book of 4-voice madrigals of 1557, here is Rore's "Crudele acerba,” sung by the Hilliard Ensemble.

[MUSIC]

For all of Rore's fame and importance as a madrigalist during the 16th century, Luca Marenzio is undoubtedly better known today. It was Marenzio who perfected the light-hearted, pastoral style so generally associated with the madrigal.

Here, once again, is the Hilliard Ensemble and Marenzio's "Leggiadre ninfe" (graceful nymphs and loving shepherds, seeming full of joy).

[MUSIC]

Marenzio's style is so familiar to us because it was the most widely admired madrigal style in the rest of Europe, particularly in England where some of Marenzio's works were translated into English for that country's first published collection of madrigals, Musica Transalpina of 1588. Especially akin to the madrigal we have just heard are those in the collection, The Triumphs of Oriana, published by Thomas Morley in 1601. Marenzio's madrigal was from a collection entitled The Triumphs of Dori (I Trionfo di Dori), and concludes with a section "Viva la bella Dori" (Long live the lovely Dori). All twenty-five madrigals in The Triumphs of Oriana conclude with "Long live fair Oriana," a pastoral metaphor for Queen Elizabeth. Like Marenzio's works these madrigals are filled with examples of word-painting. In the piece we are going to hear by Thomas Weelkes, you can get a sense of the technique of word-painting by listening for phrases like "running down a-main,” "two by two,” and "all alone."

"As Vesta was from Latmos hill descending,” sung by the Consort of Musicke under Anthony Rooley:

[MUSIC]

Marenzio's pastoral style was, however, not the only madrigal style of the late 16th century. Some composers. such as the Netherlander Giaches de Wert followed Rore's lead to a serious, highly expressive, declamatory style. Here is the second part of "Valle, che de lamenti miei,” sung by the King's Singers.

[MUSIC]

If Wert was brooding, Carlo Gesualdo was a madman. Gesualdo had murdered his unfaithful wife, and thereafter became increasingly gloomy. This condition of temperament resulted musically in works which startle in their chromaticism, their dissonance, their expressionistic twitching. The 18th century music historian Charles Burney found them "extremely shocking and disgusting." To us, having the benefit of decades of atonality, they are merely extraordinary.

"Mille volte il di io moro" (A thousand times a day I die), by Carlo Gesualdo, sung, once again, by the Consort of Musicke, directed by Anthony Rooley.

[MUSIC]

The final stage of the madrigal was with basso continuo, in the early 17th century. The new baroque style required that everything have a basso continuo. But as composers grew uncomfortable with delivering a personal, dramatic text in five or more voices in the face of the new operatic style, the madrigal gradually disappeared.

Its last great champion was Claudio Monteverdi, not only writing his own works in the form, but editing Arcadelt madrigals three decades into the baroque era.

Here is his "Lasciatemi morire,” from his Sixth Book of Madrigals, performed by an ensemble under the direction of Gustav Leonhardt.

[MUSIC]

You’ve been listening to a program of music entitled, “Mostly Madrigals.”