Beethoven and Chestnut
Conductor’s Notes

I’ve admired Cyrus Chestnut for years. In 2021 word reached me about a large-scale choral project of his, planned for a prestigious hall. Canceled due to the pandemic, it had not been rescheduled. Well, I thought: I work with a large chorus. We perform in a grand venue. And we love partnering with fantastic musicians. Maybe this is “meant to be.” I reached out to Cyrus – very shyly, if truth be told – asking if he might be interested in a collaboration. To my delight, he said yes. We talked a bit more, and agreed he would create a new 45-minute composition for The Cecilia Chorus of New York, derived from his existing evening-length work. We would give its world premiere, with Cyrus himself joining us from the keyboard in his first ever experience headlining at Carnegie Hall.

Aware that Cyrus’s idiom draws extensively on gospel, I mentioned that The Cecilia Chorus of New York and its members have historically focused primarily on classical music. At the same time, our mission is to sing from the heart of human experience, about the joys and sorrows that all cultures share. Power in the Blood and Beethoven’s Christ on the Mount of Olives are two of many possible approaches to what can be understood as a universal story.

Cyrus heard my implicit question (is this OK?) and responded immediately, with a warmth and graciousness I’ll remember forever: he was thrilled we loved his music and wanted to make music with him, as he did with us. In a world too much divided, music must be a force that unites. There was a beautiful, genuine meeting of minds and souls. And here we are – together – as Power in the Blood reaches a concert audience for the first time.

The Cecilia Chorus and I have a longstanding practice of reviving neglected masterpieces. Once enormously popular, Beethoven’s Christ on the Mount of Olives hasn’t been much heard lately, and we’ve had our eye on it. It’s hard to imagine a more fitting companion to Power in the Blood. As we’ve rehearsed, we’ve been impressed by how operatic Beethoven’s approach is. His ability to imagine music that vividly conjures place, character, and action is extraordinary, a rare talent he shares with and likely inherits from Handel. The oratorio’s six movements trace a compelling narrative arc. The instrumental introduction is nocturnal and foreboding, its mournful string melody jolted by sharp outbursts on horns and winds. The recitative for the character of Jesus (“Jehovah, du mein Vater”) conveys his vulnerability; the soaring aria (“Meine Seele ist erschüttert”) his earnest personal appeal to the God in whom he has placed his faith.

The Seraph arrives with a radiant shift from C minor to A major; falling musical motifs depict her dramatic descent from above (“Erzittre, Erde”). Her acrobatic aria (“O Heil euch!”), which the chorus partly accompanies, evokes hope, strength, and light – until grievous forces of darkness break out (“Doch weh!”). A duet between Jesus and the Seraph (“So ruhe denn”) heralds resolute acceptance as the climactic scene begins. Soldiers stealthily hunt their prey (“Wir haben ihn gesehen”), swearing “justice.” They capture Jesus with a bone-chilling cry (“Hier ist er”!) as a chorus of disciples voice their fear (“Was soll der Lärm bedeuten”). In this evening’s performance, the disciples, whom Beethoven casts as tenors and basses, are sung by sopranos and altos.

Peter joins Jesus and the Seraph in a sublime trio – a moment of serene contemplation in the eye of a terrible storm – that considers alternative modes of rage and forgiveness. Peter, won over, concludes with a timelessly challenging proposition: love the person who hates you (“Liebt jenen, der euch hasset). Chaos breaks out as the soldiers intrude violently, the youths are panic-stricken, and Jesus is taken. The music shifts instantaneously to a maestoso C major in stately dotted rhythms, a characteristic heroic trope of middle-period Beethoven, as the chorus sings a magnificent hymn of praise.

What an honor it is to present these two works, which have so much in common, side by side. We hope all listeners will enjoy both halves of this unusual program!

©Mark Shapiro 2024