Anton Bruckner (1824–1896)
Psalm 150, WAB 38 (1892)
Scored for: two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four French horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, strings, chorus, and solo soprano
Performance time: 9 minutes
First Grant Park Orchestra performance: August 4, 1984; Thomas Peck, conductor and Sarah Beatty, soprano

Although Anton Bruckner is most often remembered for his monumental symphonies, sacred music dominated much of the composer’s early career. A devout Catholic, Brucker grew up singing at St. Florian’s monastery near Linz, Austria, and later became organist there. After leaving his post and moving to Vienna in the 1860s, Bruckner turned his focus to the symphonic form, largely withdrawing from writing sacred works. His Te Deum(1884) and Psalm 150 (1892) are two notable exceptions. Bruckner was commissioned to write a sacred piece for orchestra and chorus to open a music festival in May 1892. Although he did not complete Psalm 150 in time for the festival, the work premiered in November at the Musikverein in Vienna.

Fittingly, Bruckner turned to the last psalm in the Book of Psalms for his final sacred work. The text entreats every living thing to praise God with music and dance, listing all manner of instruments, from trumpets and harps to organs and cymbals. Bruckner’s Psalm 150 is similar to his Te Deum in its exultant tone and key of C major. The piece opens with a resounding exclamation of “Hallelujah!” in full orchestra and chorus, which recurs before an intricate fugue of intense chromaticism and harrowing octave leaps. The fugue subject recalls that of the finale of his Fifth Symphony, revealing Bruckner’s symphonic thinking even in this relatively short work.

Margaret Allison Bonds (1913–1972)
Credo (1967)
Scored for: two flutes including piccolo, two oboes, three bassoons including contrabassoon, two French horns, two trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, harp, strings, chorus, solo soprano, and solo baritone
Performance time: 23 minutes
First Grant Park Orchestra performance

Margaret Bonds grew up in a relatively affluent Black family on the south side of Chicago. Her mother, a church musician, opened their home to young Black artists, writers, and musicians, including composer Florence Price, who would become Margaret’s teacher. Growing up in this environment, Bonds demonstrated musical talent from a young age, composing her first piece at age five. She went on to study at Northwestern University, where she earned her bachelor’s and master’s degrees. Unfortunately, Bonds faced intense racial prejudice there, as she was barred from using the university’s library, dining hall, and other facilities. She found solace in the work of Harlem Renaissance poet Langston Hughes during this time. She and Hughes later struck up a deep creative partnership and friendship that lasted for over 30 years, spurring her to compose numerous works on themes of social justice.

Bonds wrote Credo at the height of the civil rights movement in the mid-1960s, though the work remained unpublished until 2020. The piano–vocal version premiered in 1967 with Bonds at the piano. The orchestral version, produced shortly after, is dedicated in part to Hughes, who passed away in 1967. Credo sets W. E. B. Du Bois’s influential prose poem of the same name. Just eight years before Du Bois wrote Credo, the US Supreme Court had declared that racial segregation did not violate the US Constitution in Plessy v. Ferguson (1896). This ruling strengthened Jim Crow laws and intensified violence and oppression against Black Americans. In his nine-paragraph manifesto, Du Bois declares that racial equality and justice are ordained by God rather than granted by man. He also condemns war and imperialism, affirms the inherent dignity and worth of Black people, and promotes the pursuit of knowledge for the betterment of society.

Bonds’s cantata—with its powerful melodies, rich harmonic palette, and blend of Western classical and African American musical traditions—captures the conviction and passion of Du Bois’s Credo while exploring its wide emotional range. The first movement, “I Believe in God,” begins with a powerful homophonic choral statement of “I believe in God, who made of one blood all nations that on earth do dwell.” This statement in stark parallel fifths sets the tone of the piece and recurs throughout the cantata. Next, “Especially Do I Believe in the Negro Race” features a lyrical soprano solo inflected with blue notes, which the choir echoes like a call and response. “I Believe in Pride of Race” highlights the tenors and basses in an authoritative march, while a menacing ostinato of percussive strings, timpani, and bassoon tremolo pervades “I Believe in the Devil.” In stark contrast, a subtle reference to the Christmas hymn “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” begins “I Believe in the Prince of Peace,” followed by angelic singing by the upper voices of the choir. “I Believe in Liberty” features an expressive solo for baritone, while the undulating orchestra evokes the movement of a train. Finally, “I Believe in Patience” recalls themes and rhythmic ideas from the previous movements, including a final statement of the opening “I Believe in God” theme, the cyclical nature of the work signifying that the journey toward justice and equality is not a straight line—or far from over.

Johannes Brahms (1833–1897)
Symphony No. 2 in D major, op. 73 (1877)
Scored for: two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, four French horns, two trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, and strings
Performance time: 43 minutes
First Grant Park Orchestra performance: July 21, 1936; Richard Czerwonky, conductor

“I shall never write a symphony!” Johannes Brahms protested in 1870. “You can’t have any idea what it’s like always to hear such a giant marching behind you.” The giant in question was, of course, Ludwig van Beethoven. Like many other 19th-century composers, Brahms (1833–1897) was intimidated by inevitable comparisons with the mighty symphonist to the point of paralysis. After ripping off the proverbial Band-Aid with the completion of his First Symphony in 1876, a great weight was lifted from Brahms’s shoulders, allowing him to complete his Second Symphony in just a few months in 1877.

Whereas the First Symphony strives heroically from darkness to light, the Second is more relaxed, even pastoral. Naturally, this juxtaposition invited comparisons to Beethoven’s Fifth and “Pastoral” Symphonies, also composed in quick succession. However, the rumble of timpani and groan of trombones in Brahms’s Second Symphony indicate that all is not sunshine and rainbows. When an admirer of Brahms questioned this darkness, the composer confessed he was “a severely melancholic person” and that “black wings are constantly flapping above us.”

The cellos and basses open the first movement with a simple four-note motif, D-C#-D-A, over which the horns intone a soft pastoral melody. That unassuming bass motif ends up being the glue that holds the symphony together, as the first three notes are heard numerous times in various guises throughout the symphony. Brahms makes sure to repeat the figure a few times at the beginning to get it in the listener’s ear. The second full theme then recalls Brahms’s famous “Lullaby,” introduced by the cellos and violas and later decorated by the flute, while the more agitated development section reveals a darkness lurking beneath the surface.

The Adagio explores the shadows hinted at in the first movement. Again, it begins with two concurrent themes: a rising line in the bassoons, which moves in contrary motion against a rich cello melody. The horn develops a fragment of the cello melody in a short fugue before the winds introduce a grazioso theme over pizzicato cello. The syncopation of this theme lends the Adagio a sense of forward movement while remaining in the same slow tempo. The three-note motif from the first movement can be heard in the trombones and bassoons, echoed by the tuba and basses. Throughout the movement, Brahms continually builds the tension with greater syncopation, smaller subdivisions of the beat, and an increased rate of harmonic change, before releasing the tension, only to build it up again.

The lighter texture of the Allegretto offers some reprieve thanks to the omission of the trumpets, trombones, tuba, and timpani. The charming serenade in the oboe over pizzicato cello contrasts with two trio sections that are variations on the scherzo theme in double time. The brusque drone of the low strings under the playfully accented staccato strings and winds creates a rustic feel. The finale begins in an excited sotto voce that bubbles with potential energy. The power of the orchestra soon bursts forth, with the trombones finally returning to the texture in the recapitulation, ending in a resplendent D major.

—Katherine Buzard