Molecular Music

Two weeks ago I was fortunate to be in the chorus for the Alabama Symphony Orchestra's presentation of Bach's extraordinary St. Matthew Passion. The effort was intense and satisfying. I had studied the piece in graduate school, and always wanted to experience it for myself.

Bach's genius includes the ability to express the appropriate emotion or mood with minimal musical resources. Frequently the orchestra or singers in the work have the opportunity to tell the story of the Last Supper, the betrayal, the trial, and the crucifixion of Christ using melody, harmony or rhythm that give the listener a picture so vivid that the familiar story comes to life in a new way. The structure of the piece includes the telling of the story from the scripture and the commentary on the story from other texts. In both cases Bach is singularly masterful.

One of the most interesting tools applied to the task by Bach is the distance between two notes. The interval between pitches is the molecular level of a musical organism. When sound begins to move through time, it must be determined whether the composer wishes to sustain a pitch, or change to a different one. It is this decision that determines whether tone becomes melody, and as other musical cells are joined, whether melody is joined by harmony.

The St. Matthew Passion gives a graduate level course in the use of intervals as the molecules from which the musical elements are created. It is an artistic "Periodic Table," guiding the artist to the tools from which the material of the story is realized.

Part One of the passion describes the period of the story from just before the Last Supper to the betrayal in the Garden of Gethsemane. The chorus concludes the drama with Bach's quintessential form of choral music, a chorale tune from the Lutheran Hymn canon, elaborated with choral and orchestral embroidery. And when the final verse foreshadows the cross that is coming in Act Two, the basses of the chorus leap an octave, and are answered by the tenors and altos, who move by a short interval. It is a vivid picture of the cross, with the basses' long leap representing the upright part, and the short leap of the other singers representing the cross-beam.

A similar example comes in Act Two, when the chorus becomes the angry mob who has demanded that Barrabas be freed, and that Jesus be crucified. When Bach depicts their cry of rage, demanding his crucifixion, each part of the chorus sings an impossibly difficult melody built entirely of augmented fourth intervals. This is the interval that is most dissonant, and was even considered demonic in the Dark Ages. It is another vivid portrayal.

My favorite examples of this molecular composition come when the molecule is made up of the fewest particles. In some cases Bach gives us a vivid picture by using an interval of a half-step, in the rhythm of an ornament, or grace-note. In these cases his genius is breath-taking. For example, between the cries of the chorus for Jesus' crucifixion stands one of the most beautiful of solos, the soprano aria "Aus liebe will mein Heiland sterben," or "Out of love is my Savior dying." It is stark and desperate, accompanied only by flute and a pair of oboes. For me, it is Bach's Pieta. And occasionally the solo flute's phrases end with a grace-note, a descending half-step, a sigh that paints darkness and hopelessness over the entire proceeding. It is a dropper-full of color, changing an ocean of liquid. It is Bach's molecular genius.

When the crucifixion is over, and only the women remain to endure the horror of taking care of the body, a wealthy man enters, offering his own new grave as a final rest for the slaughtered Savior. Things could not appear to be more hopeless. And Bach offers another aria, sung by a bass, in which the singer implores, "Make my heart pure, that Jesus might be buried there." It is a heart-stopping sentiment, and a theological enigma. And Bach infuses the melody with an ascending half-step, reversing the hopeless downward direction of the flute's earlier grace-note, and offering a tiny, molecular foreshadowing of hopeful ascent. In the use of the upward motion, Bach renders the crucifixion purposeful.

Shortly, the 135 minutes of Bach's piece come to an end. And the chorus sings the final notes, just as they ended Act One. They sing "We stand at your grave weeping, calling you in our grief: sleep sweetly." The chorus is written in C Minor, and offers one final expression of the darkness of the story. But when it ends, with the entire chorus and orchestra presenting a C Minor chord, Bach offers a final chemical reaction, with a slow grace-note offered by the mournful oboe, an ascending half-step that says (to me), "Good Friday has been excruciating, but return to see how things end after a couple of sunrises."

I can think of other examples of composers with such genius that they can create entire worlds using simple musical structures within monumental compositions. Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms, for example, offers an entire opening choral phrase with a range of a half-step. The Lacrimosa movement of Mozart's Requiem, which he began, then died after fourteen measures, offers a study in the use of a similar "sighing" motive. But surely Bach's passion stands alone as an opportunity to probe the depths of the story using a molecular musical/chemical recipe, rendering a result that offers the dual opportunities of being a better musician and a better person.