999 Words

High Fidelity: notes on multiple Messiahs

He that hath ears to hear, let him hear. —Matthew 11:15

Faith is a word with a number of competing definitions.

Most commonly, we use it interchangeably with the word ‘belief,’ to describe our confidence in something intangible. These beliefs, too, can vary in significance.

We’re not certain, for example, of something as inconsequential as the metro arriving when it’s late — which in Montreal is often. We take it on faith.

Increasing on the scale of importance, we can’t be positive that our plane won’t crash. But we have faith that it will land at its intended destination, and so we faithfully climb aboard. We can’t be sure that a romantic partner won’t betray us. We must believe that they’ll be faithful.

Perhaps a more apt synonym for faith might be ‘adherence.’ Audio culture proves instructive in this definition of fidelity. When we say, for instance, that a recording is ‘high-fidelity,’ what we mean is that it adheres faithfully to the original sound.

A pristine 180-gram vinyl spun on a hi-fi sound system may make us believe, if wishfully, that Miles Davis could be right there in the room. It accomplishes this because the record adheres precisely to the veritable timbre of Davis’s trumpet.

Or, we could say that this or that performance of the Messiah adheres more or less to Handel’s score and original libretto and therefore is more or less faithful.

Yannick Nézet-Séguin, Anna-Sophie Neher, and Emily D’Angelo perform Handel’s Messiah at Notre-Dame Basilica. François Goupil for Orchestre Métropolitain.

Likely few if any of us who listen to Miles Davis ever witnessed him play live. And nobody attending performances of the Messiah nowadays saw Handel. But we believe that these recordings and performances adhere to the original — that they are in one way or another faithful.

Three recent holiday season performances in Montreal of Handel’s Messiah espoused various degrees of what we might call fidelity. First, there was the Orchestre Metropolitain’s sober Messiah rendition conducted by Yannick Nézet-Séguin on December 11th at Notre-Dame Basilica. Then, there was the Orchestre Classique de Montréal’s solemn version which Roï Azoulay conducted in the crypt of Saint-Joseph’s Oratory on the 12th. And finally, there was two-time Juno winner Maestro Matthias Maute’s fast and loose iteration with Ensemble Caprice on 22 December at Maison Symphonique.

Each possessed their virtues. But the ultimate conundrum remains: was one Messiah most faithful to Handel’s initial idea? The answer to this riddle depends upon an assortment of factors.

First is the location. Since Handel’s Messiah is a work of Christian theology, it should probably be performed in a church. This rules out Maestro Maute’s version.

Then, the question becomes, in which church should it be performed? Notre-Dame Basilica was constructed in the Baroque style, nearer to Handel’s historical timeframe and aesthetic tradition. But because of its ornamental composition, the massive reverb of a larger auditorium like Notre-Dame’s muddies all of the score’s intricate notes. Plus, the Messiah is technically an oratorio, which logically demands an oratory. So, the crypt at Saint-Joseph’s emerges as the early frontrunner.

The Orchestre Classique de Montréal performs Handel’s Messiah in the crypt of St. Joseph’s Oratory. Brent Calis for the OCM.

The second factor is the performance itself. Although it has been adapted over the centuries for enormous orchestras and choirs, Handel wrote the Messiah for a decidedly modest, chamber-sized ensemble of only nine instruments: two trumpets, two oboes, two violins, viola, basso continuo, and timpani. The Orchestre Metropolitain comprises nearly 40 musicians, whereas the OCM and Ensemble Caprice are less numerous, producing a tighter, more focussed, and more faithful sound.

However, each of the three sections ought also to be performed in their entirety, without interruption. Ensemble Caprice took liberties with the compositional structure, omitting a handful of segments for brevity, and both the EC and the OCM’s audiences applauded after nearly every individual piece. Maestro Nézet-Séguin literally frowns upon ovations between refrains. So, the OM probably remained more faithful to Handel’s original intentions.

Another factor is how closely the performance sticks to the piece’s compositional spirit. Handel’s score was written in only 24 days, which some scholars interpreted as celestial inspiration, and others, including librettist Charles Jennens, regarded as careless haste. Either way, it is a work reflecting exuberant joy, revolving around the famous Hallelujah chorus, perhaps the best-known piece of western music ever written, and should be executed with equivalent boisterous enthusiasm.

Despite Nézet-Séguin’s irrepressible gusto, the Orchestre Metropolitain’s performance topped the running times at over three hours, a long show by any measure. Comparatively, the Ensemble Caprice’s concert sped by in under 80 minutes. The OCM’s rendition, however, moved at a lively and consistent pace and spanned a reasonable two and a half hours.

The Orchestre Metropolitain provided no information about the period of the instruments upon which its members performed. But the OCM was careful to publish a list in its programme notes about the provenance of each stringed instrument, including the age of their bows, and Maestro Maute went so far as to emphasize that Ensemble Caprice featured historically consistent instruments.

Ensemble Caprice performs Handel’s Messiah at Maison Symphonique. Tam Lan Truong for Ensemble Caprice.

Consequently, it’s difficult given the above criteria to judge which Messiah was indeed the best. If we gauge by the venue’s acoustics, the OCM at the oratory doubtless wins. But if we decide through adherence to the score, the OM’s note-for-note reproduction demonstrates superior fidelity. And if we factor in the oratorio’s energetic essence and attention to its epoch, Ensemble Caprice prevails.

Herein lies the metaphor: it seems that the problem is not the idea of Messianism, but the notion that we should adhere to only one. Is a multiplicity of Messiahs possible? As Rabbi Robert N. Levine suggests, could we be them?

The Abrahamic Jews supposed that a divine Messiah would unite their tribes and usher in a new post-sin consciousness. Jewish Christians 2000 years ago believed that Jesus of Nazareth was the guy. A few centuries later, Muslims thought that Jesus was satisfactory, but that Muhammad was the true and ultimate prophet.

If God created us in His image, then we each have the potential — and the responsibility — to be the Messiah we want to see in the world. That requires a higher fidelity.◼︎

Cover image: The vaulted ceiling at Montreal’s Notre-Dame Basilica. Photographed for NicheMTL.

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999 Words

At the Last Trumpet: Handel’s Messiah

The secret things belong unto the Lord our God:
but those things which are revealed belong
to us and to our children for ever,
that we may do all the words of this law

—Deuteronomy 29:29

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all flesh shall see it together:
for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it

—Isaiah 40:5

A new philosophy of the future is needed. I believe it should be curiosity about the Universe – expand humanity to become a multiplanet, then interstellar, species to see what’s out there. This is compatible with existing religions – surely God would want us to see Creation?
—Elon Musk

Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re going to have to serve somebody

—Bob Dylan

What would Jesus do?

This clichéd old question often comes to mind, but more recently in the past few years. It comes to mind on a personal level: What would Jesus do if the dry cleaners shrunk His favourite trousers, or His metro station was closed for a month for COP-15? It comes to mind on a global level: What would Jesus do if He had to live through a pandemic, a world war, climate change, the destruction of Creation, and then try to reach His followers, like the flock that had clearly gone astray, far more interested in watching a little black-and-white ball kicked about, or the taxes of a former US president? And it comes to mind on a more practical level: What would Jesus do to get the word out — y’know, the word of God?

What would Jesus do if Jesus Christ Himself returned as per prophecy and had to let the world know He was back to kick some ass? Surely, He would take to Twitter.

Today, Twitter has achieved an almost prophetic position in digital communication. We assign figures who amass significant Twitter followings nearly messianic status, regardless — in spite of, in some cases — expertise or good intentions. Their follower numbers are equivalent to authority. With impressions visible, we can now account precisely how much they impress us.

In earlier times, other social networks emerged over common interests and various modes of communication. Music is one example. Putting ideas into song is among the most enduringly powerful and universal ways to interact with large-scale audiences. From Pythagoras to the Pied Piper, Beethoven to Boards of Canada to the Wu-Tang Clan, music has always been for the children.

In Georg Friedrich Handel’s day, it was enough to just write Baroque operas. By the mid-1730s, the German composer’s music had garnered a significant and influential European audience. After settling in London in 1712, Handel made an even bigger name for himself churning out compositions at a feverish pace, founding three opera companies, and presenting more than 40 operas in London’s theatres. Handel wrote the score to one of his most beloved oratorios, The Messiah, in a little over three weeks in late August and early September, 1741. It was like a tweet he tossed off in the middle of the night, in that hazy hypnagogic state between degrees of consciousness.

Some people believed that Handel composed the score in a fit of divine inspiration. Others thought that it was a bit rushed and sloppy, and that he probably squeezed it in between jobs like any journeyman of any trade might do, paying little attention to quality or craft. According to historians, the score was riddled with mistakes — ink blots, scratched-out notes, unfinished passages. Was Handel himself a kind of fake messiah for potentially duping his followers into believing in his genius, when it was likely just another gig for some guy in a powdered wig?

The Libretto to The Messiah is largely comprised of Biblical passages and has none of the earmarks of narrative opera: there is no dramatization of the action, and no characters in elaborate costumes. Soloists approach the stage and address the audience directly as if giving a sermon. The choir and a relatively small orchestra accompany these Acts, culminating in the Hallelujah Chorus, perhaps the most recognizable piece of Western music ever written.

Insofar as communication goes, it is impossible to calculate how many impressions Handel’s score has accumulated. If it were a tweet, it went viral and continues to do so every Christmas season around the globe. In Montreal, for instance, The Messiah is performed annually at St. Joseph’s Oratory, under the world’s 20th tallest dome.

The Messiah is a Jewish concept for an anointed leader conferred with Holy powers. Those powers are to reveal God’s Word. The twelve disciples who followed Jesus, His Apostles, believed that Jesus was a strong messianic title contender, and they tried to tell as many people about Him as possible.

Matthew, a tax collector, was one of these Apostles. Matthew was different than the other Apostles. He hung out with unrepentant sinners; he collaborated with the Romans. But he was highly educated, literate, and the first person to write down Jesus’s teachings. Having a scribe on staff meant access to social networks Jesus might not have reached.

Messianic language surrounds no one today more than tech-bro billionaire Elon Musk. His supporters regard Musk as some sort of saviour who will lead Earthlings two hundred eighty characters by two hundred eighty characters towards a mythical Martian future. His detractors view him as a petulant child and false idol subject to base carnal desires and flights of megalomaniacal fancy.

Musk sees himself as a visionary savant with a hair-trigger Twitter finger, hellbent upon success, whatever that means. What success means today is not what it meant to Jesus, or even to Handel, who did not conceive of his works as messianic, but rather as calls to recognize Jesus as the true Messiah, as God’s anointed emissary. Jesus might have turned Twitter upside down, whereas Elon bought it.

No Messiah exists today, and if one did, it would be a bitch competing with Musk for followers.◼︎

@nichemtl

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