Stephen Paulus composed twelve operas and fifty-five orchestral works, but he is perhaps best remembered for his choral works which number well over four hundred, and include such gems as the Pilgrims' Hymn and The Road Home.
In 2012, the Columbus Symphony Chorus commissioned a new work from Paulus in honor of Ron Jenkins's 30th anniversary as chorus director. The commission resulted in a suite for chorus and orchestra—a four-movement paean in praise of music. Each movement is based on a poem by a different author, extolling the power of music and its effect on our souls. Sadly, Of Songs and Singing remained Paulus's last major work: the composer suffered a massive stroke soon after the premiere, and passed away a year later.
Tonight, we're going to hear the last two movements from the suite, starting with a poem by the great Sufi mystic Jalal ad-Din Rumi (1207-73), as translated by Coleman Barks. The music conveys Rumi’s ecstatic feelings at receiving a message from the “universal soul” through the singing of birds—the awe we feel when in the presence of something that is larger than we are.
“If Music Be the Food of Love” is the first line of a famous song from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, quoted here by Henry Heveningham (1651-1700), a minor poet and controversial political figure. In the poet’s mind, the entire being of the beloved is transformed into music—a thought that Paulus rendered with joyful orchestral and vocal sounds, providing a fitting ending to his suite, and to our concert.
Birdsong
Birdsong brings relief
to my longing
I'm just as ecstatic as they are,
but with nothing to say!
Please universal soul,
Practice some song or something through me,
Practice some song or something for me.
Rumi, tr. Coleman Barks
If Music Be the Food of Love
If music be the food of love,
Sing on till I am fill'd with joy,
For then my list'ning soul you move
To pleasures that can never cloy.
Your eyes, your mien, your tongue, declare
That you are music ev'rywhere.
Pleasures invade both eye and ear,
So fierce the transports are, they wound,
And all my senses fested are,
Tho' yet the treat is only sound,
Sure I must perish by your charms,
Unless you save me in your arms.
Henry Heveningham
Notes By Peter Laki