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“A final note is never too long if it is soft enough
Paul Salamunovich
A Beacon of the Chor al Ar t
M ar y B r e de n an d R o b e r t S u m m e r
“A final note is never too long if it is soft enough.”
Mary Breden
Professor of Music and Director of Choral Activities
Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles, CA
[email protected]
Robert Summer
Professor Emeritus of Choral Studies, University of South Florida (Tampa)
and Music Director Emeritus of the Master Chorale of Tampa Bay
[email protected]
42
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
O
n April 3, 2014, eminent choral conductor and
music educator Paul Salamunovich passed away.
Among many notable achievements, Salamunovich
was a Grammy-nominated choral conductor who taught
choral music at Mount St. Mary’s College in Los Angeles,
Loyola Marymount University, and the University of Southern California’s Thornton School of Music. He was music
director emeritus of the Los Angeles Master Chorale and
served for sixty years at St. Charles Borromeo Catholic
Church in North Hollywood, California, as organist and
choir director. Salamunovich was also a singer and assistant
conductor of the famed Roger Wagner Chorale. For his service and contribution to the music of the Catholic Church,
in 1969 he received a Papal Knighthood in the Order of St.
Gregory the Great from Pope Paul VI. In 2005, Salamunovich
was awarded the Robert Shaw Choral Award, the highest
honor given by the American Choral Directors Association
to a choral leader who has made an extraordinary contribution to the art of choral music.
The following tribute article is a special compilation of
material. First is an article by Mary Breden, current director
of choral activities at Loyola Marymount University in Los
Angeles. She studied conducting with Salamunovich and
was for several years his accompanist with choruses at
Mount St. Mary’s, Loyola University, and Loyola Marymount
University. The second portion of this article is a reprint
of an essay by Robert Summer, professor emeritus of
choral studies at the University of South Florida (Tampa)
and past president of Florida ACDA. He uses personal
experiences from Salamunovich workshops, observations
during rehearsals and performances, and a 2010 interview to document Salamunovich’s rehearsal procedures
and performance experiences of Giovanni Pierluigi da
Palestrina’s Sicut cervus. In both articles, quotes from Paul
are set in a different font to differentiate them from the
words of the authors.
Paul Salamunovich
Paul Salamunovich:
Elegance and Artistry
By Mary Breden
Having worked with Paul Salamunovich as a singer, conducting student,
rehearsal accompanist, and colleague
for over forty years, I have discovered
that many aspects of the pedagogy
he developed arose from his personal
musical encounters. Quotations used
here come from observing him in action
during these years and from a series of
interviews I conducted with Paul at his
A Beacon of the Chor al Ar t
home in North Hollywood, California,
in July 2006.
It is no secret that Paul Salamunovich
made an incredible impact on the choral
profession. From his all-consuming passion for the beauty of tone, to his insistence that singers must be actors, to his
shaping of the inevitable phrase, Paul left
his mark on every singer he conducted
no matter who they were or what their
background. His keen ear and expressive soul were a marvel to listeners and
singers alike, who never ceased to be
amazed at the magic he created when
he stepped onto the podium. He put it
very simply: “I merely observe what’s on
the page, and they all think I’m a genius.”
Any singer or choral conductor who
Distinguished Concerts Orchestra
Distinguished Concerts Singers International
PRESENTS
Sunday, November 9, 8:00 pm
I Believe…Remembering the Holocaust
D. McCullough
Z. Zalis
S. Sametz
has attended a workshop or sung in an
All-State Honor Choir conducted by
Paul knows that he preferred a very
specific tone quality, accompanied with
points of precision that helped in attaining that tone. “I have become obsessed
with the development of a tonal palette,
which is the foundation of the sounds I
need to start with in the instrument.”
Amid the many vivid recollections
that Paul had from his childhood in Redondo Beach, California, was one that
revealed a remarkable musical sensitivity,
one that perhaps planted the seed for
many of the techniques he utilized over
the years with his own choirs as well
as with workshop and festival choirs
around the world.
Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center
Donald McCullough, Composer/Conductor
McCullough: In the Shadow of the Holocaust
(NY Premiere)
Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director
and Principal Conductor
Zane Zalis, Visiting Composer
Zalis: I Believe (US Premiere)
Friday, November 21, 7:00 pm
Carmina amoris: Songs of Love
(NY Premiere)
Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage,
Carnegie Hall
Steven Sametz, Composer/Conductor
Featuring Lehigh University Choral Arts
2014 Fall Concert Series
Saturday, November 29, 7:00 pm
With Grace: The Music of
Gwyneth Walker
Alice Tully Hall, Lincoln Center
Nancy Menk, Guest Conductor
Gwyneth Walker, Composer-in-Residence
N. Menk
SoHarmoniums
Elizabeth Núňez, Director
E. Núňez
J. Griffith
Sunday, November 30, 2:00 pm
Messiah... Refreshed!
Avery Fisher Hall, Lincoln Center
Jonathan Griffith, DCINY Artistic Director
and Principal Conductor
Handel: Messiah, Thomas Beecham/Eugene
Goossens’ 1959 Re-orchestration for
Full Symphony Orchestra
Visit DCINY.org to learn more and inquire about future performance opportunities.
250 West 57th St., New York, NY 10107
44
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
(212) 707-8566
@ DCINY
[email protected] www.DCINY.org
When I was eleven years
old, I had an experience
that may have been the
forerunner of what would
come—that my sensitivities to tone and
balance would govern the tonal palette
I demand from choirs. I was playing a
game of sandlot football after school
with my brothers and some friends, and
one day I caught someone’s elbow in
the mouth.
When I got through crying, I decided to go off by myself. There was an oil
field, a few derricks, and lots of storage
oil tanks—enormous round tanks. Being a rather inquisitive little kid, I found
a door open down at the bottom of one
of the tanks. The tank was empty, but
it was filled with leftover tarry residue.
There were some pipes running across
the floor. Balancing myself between
two of the pipes, I discovered my great
black cathedral. The echo was so enormous! It circled and circled; at first, as
any kid would do, I suppose, I yelled
at myself to “Shut up!” It would come
back at me in a huge diminuendo.
After I got bored screaming at myself, I started singing a tone. I remember I used “oo”; Fr. Buechner [Fr. Louis
Buechner, the young priest at St. James
Catholic Church in Redondo Beach,
who was Paul’s first choir director]
had trained us to sing on “oo.” And,
my gosh, it just filled that tank with an
incredible sound! I soon realized that if
I didn’t enter in the center of the pitch,
it was blurred. It took me the longest
time to hit the dead center of the note,
and when I cut, there was a tail end of
a drop of pitch. And that blurred. So I
worked for many, many minutes to hit
the first note dead on and to cut precisely from the center of the pitch; then
I heard this beautiful sound and I said,
“Listen to me sing in here!” Of course
it was the beautiful soprano sound that
I was learning to use singing in the
boys’ choir. Well, I was developing an
even more beautiful sound, because I
began to judge whether I was making
it lovely or not.
After I mastered the quality of the
single pitch, I decided to try two parts.
So I made a jump of a third from the
pitches—entering the center of the
note, releasing from the center of the
note, entering the next one precisely in
tune…And if I didn’t, it wasn’t lovely
to listen to. After many tries in what
seemed like an eternity, I finally got
“I MERELY OBSERVE WHAT’S ON THE
PAGE, AND THEY ALL THINK I’M A
GENIUS.”
first note. Again, it took me the longest
time to cut the first note and enter the
second note dead center a third below.
Then I said, “It’s not balanced. Well
then, sing the first note louder, cut
cleanly, and sing the next one a little
softer.” When I got them balanced, I
listened to two-part harmony. Then I
got more daring. I added the lowest
note of the triad. Once again, I spent a
very long time going through the three
all three notes in tune.
With the perfect blend that I produced by finding the center of the
pitch, I heard my first balanced choir.
So there it was. It was one of the great
moments of my life. It’s almost as if I
took a master’s degree in tone and balance in that oil tank. Oh, and it goes
further. I finally sang “Amen, Amen,
Amen,” forming the descending triad.
I had to have that ending prayer.
Morten Lauridsen and Paul Salamunovich. Paul and the St. Charles Borromeo Choir returned
to Loyola Marymount University in 2005 for the Fortieth Annual Spring Concert. St. Charles
sang Lauridsen’s Lux Aeterna, the only time they performed the work with orchestra. Paul
also conducted the combined LMU and St. Charles choruses in Toward the Unknown Region
of Ralph Vaughan Williams. (Photograph by Glenn Cratty)
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
45
Paul Salamunovich
A Beacon of the Chor al Ar t
When teaching young singers to
understand true intonation by coming
immediately into the center of the pitch,
Paul often demonstrated the difference
between a glissando, a portamento, and
an appoggiatura.
They realize that if the composer of
this music wanted a slide, he could
have written one of those two marks.
Even the youngest singer can achieve
this precision. I tell them, “Now you
are a musician.”
One of my pet things to do when I
want to work on intonation on entrances is to make sure the singers
know the terminology. I say, “Do you
know what a glissando is?” Okay,
you see a descending jagged line.
Do a glissando [shows how to slide
downward]. Do you know what a
portamento is? Usually they don’t. It’s
a little curved line coming from the
lower note to an upper note [slides
up an ascending whole step on “oo”].
Glide into it. Again I have them sing
it. Then I ask, “Now do you know
what an appoggiatura is?” It’s that
little grace note with a line through it.
Sing an appoggiatura [sings/slides descending half step on “oo”].Then sing,
portamento—appoggiatura—neither.
Immediately everyone comes to the
dead center of the pitch. Now the singers know if there is not one of those
marks, they must come dead center.
Paul also enjoyed getting the choir to
“lock in the chord.” He frequently asked
the singers to place a minuscule break
between chords so that there would be
I THINK BASSES TEND TO OVER SING.
THEY LIKE THAT POWER OF THE LOWER
REGISTER. I ALWAYS ASK THE BASSES, “MEN,
WHY ARE YOU ANGRY? SING WITH LOVE.”
IT’S ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS TO SAY
TO THE BASSES.
no chance of sliding, and the subsequent
chord was guaranteed to be in tune
and on time. Particularly effective as the
choir approaches the penultimate chord
of the phrase or the piece, the clarity of
the final chord is riveting.
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an annual summer seminar to
renew worship, music, and the arts for the life of the world
A weeklong summer seminar in New Haven for
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· learn, create, and make connections
· develop a project to deepen and extend ministries in
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june 19–24, 2015
theme for 2015
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· serve as future resources to other leaders or
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46
We live for that dead center arrival
for the pitch, quality, and balance so
that we may achieve the miracle of
overtones. If it can’t happen, I use the
quote “lock the chord.” The singers
have to arrive at that chord precisely
together and not be sliding from one
part to the other. This is that same demonstration I gave in that echoing oil
tank… You have to arrive at the center
of the pitch of the notes at the same
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
More information and application at
ismcongregations.yale.edu
Application deadline is October 15.
time as the other parts, and when you
do, the chord has to be balanced and
the vocal color blended.
In perfecting the clean move between notes and ultimately the precise
intonation, Paul also had the singers use
a similar tiny break between notes, most
often on a leap. In proving this, he asked
that the break between the two notes
initially be a big break, time-wise. Gradually the singers closed the gap until the
break was barely audible, but the move
was clean and the intonation true.
He recalled preparing the Los Angeles Master Chorale on Brahms’s Requiem
for guest conductor Robert Shaw. Paul
was familiar with Shaw’s practice of
insisting that scores be marked with
quarter notes becoming dotted eighths
followed by sixteenth rests to assure
space between the notes and movement from the center of one pitch to
the center of the next.
“[Shaw] came to that first long leap
center of the choral balance sits critically
with the tenors and the altos. When the
altos emulate the sound of the male alto
or countertenor, an indescribable beauty
permeates the choral sound. Finally, the
sopranos sing slightly softer than all of
the lower parts, adding a shimmer rather
than overpowering the balance.
Weston Noble and Paul Salamunovich met conference attendees in the exhibits at the 2007
ACDA National Conference in Miami, Florida.
in the first movement and he yelled
‘64th rest!’ Then the next time when
he had that big jump, he says ‘128th!’
He didn’t know that I had already prepared them with a 256th rest because I
wanted that space between the notes.”
For Paul, the excitement in the music
came when the singers could extend
the note, preceeding the break “for as
long as you can.”
Singers have to be taught how to take
the note to the nth degree before they
release. Don’t lose the energy, and
make sure it is tensioned all the way
to the cutoff. This can be best demonstrated by imagining that you are pulling on a slingshot; when you let that
rock go, it will go far. And when you
energize to the cutoff, you can hear
that something else is going to happen.
Whether working with honor choirs,
the university choruses, the church choir,
or the L.A. Master Chorale, he constantly expected and demanded this musical
exhilaration and excitement—this tension and release. Another first, related
to the famous oil tank experience, was
Paul’s realization at such a young age
of what was needed to balance his
imaginary choir. When he built that
final chord of “Amens,” it became apparent to him that in order to hear the
true triad, it was necessary to sing each
successive note slightly softer than the
preceding one. In similar fashion, as he
worked with live choirs, he came to value the beautiful effect of richness in the
balance derived from the groundwork
provided by the bass section. However,
he used caution when requesting this
heavy foundation.
I think basses tend to over-sing. They
like that power of the lower register. I
always ask the basses, “Men, why are
you angry? Sing with love.” It’s one of
my favorite things to say to the basses.
Then you begin to hear that they will
sing with more of the head voice down
in the lower register. They won’t push
into that ugly chest tone.
Once the bass tone is established, the
tenors sing slightly softer than the basses,
and the altos balance the tenors. The
I remember John Rutter explaining
the English sound at a dinner where
we were sitting together. He said, “An
English sound is like a pyramid standing on its point, with that hooty boy
sound up there. English men cannot
sing heavily. They always sing with that
surprise head voice. And the boys have
that driven ‘oo’ sound. It’s beautiful.”
As he explained, I said, “That’s perfect!
An English choir is a pyramid standing
on its point.” The sound that I want,
however, is the pyramid sitting on its
base. When the basses do not oversing, we begin to hear beautiful overtones. That is the most thrilling thing
in the world. That’s the cherubims and
the seraphims singing in the room. It’s
like cupping your ears and singing in
an echoing hallway or in my oil tank.
Paul recalled that his early mentors—Fr. Louis Buechner at St. James in
Redondo, Richard Keys Biggs at Blessed
Sacrament Catholic Church in Hollywood, and Roger Wagner—were all influenced by the teachings of Fr. William
Finn, longtime conductor of the famous
Paulist Choristers in New York. Fr. Finn
utilized downward scales with a diminuendo while carrying the head voice from
the upper to the lower register, assuring
that the singers do not go into the chest
tone at the bottom of the scale.
Biggs also made use of the downward scales, softly, always on the “oo”
vowel. We were “ooed” to death. He
always told us to “bloom the note.”
He didn’t like to [use the term] crescendo. It was more graceful—like a
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
47
Paul Salamunovich
rose blooming with nothing forced.
Paul often expanded on this tool as
he worked to lighten up a choir’s tone
and improve their intonation if they
were getting bogged down in a heavy
tone. An honor choir (Missouri All State,
1987) sat amazed while rehearsing
Jacob Clemens’s motet Ascendens Christus, for example, as Paul started raising
their pitch by half steps. Before long,
all voices were finally in a vocal place,
perhaps a fifth higher than the written
score, where the only sound they could
produce was a buoyant head tone. Then
as Paul let them return to the original
key, all triumphantly celebrated the
beauty of their lighter, freer tone.
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48
A Beacon of the Chor al Ar t
Fr. Finn never allowed his choristers
to sing above a mezzo forte, believing
that anything louder would be ugly in
quality. As young professional singers,
Paul and the other singers in the Los
Angeles Concert Youth Chorus, later
to become the Roger Wagner Chorale
and ultimately the Los Angeles Master
Chorale, mastered the head voice but
added much more intensity than Finn
ever asked for.
We learned to sing with tremendous intensity in the softer areas,
and our pianissimos were softer than
other choirs so the dynamics were
relative. With Roger, when we sang
a printed fortissimo, we may have
only been at a mezzo forte. But it was
very intense. He always said, “Give
me intensity but with restraint.” [He]
used this constantly with us when he
was so intense about getting the right
tonal quality without being forced. He
didn’t allow his singers to get too loud
or they would lose that sound, so he
said, “Give me more energy so that it
implies being louder without literally
being fortissimo, but a forte with such
energy that it sounds bigger to the
listener than it actually is.”
Paul added a strong sense of acting
to the tonal intensity that he learned
from Wagner. He did not just stop at
the translation of a text or the general
meaning of a lyric but rather the heartfelt depth of emotion behind the words.
Singing is acting. Singing is an
extension of speech. And if you can’t
speak it with expression, don’t hide
behind the notes. Don’t let the notes
do it for you. And when you can use
the notes and the words at the same
time and deliver the message, people
will not stop listening. Make them glad
they came to listen. And in the end
they will say, “Wow, what an experience it was.” That would be beautiful.
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
Young singers were delighted and
immediately became singing actors as
he inspired them with imaginary freckles,
pigtails, and gingham skirts in Copland’s
Stomp Your Foot. The “Dies Irae” in Mozart’s Requiem needed to be sung as if
each singer could “paint an even more
frightening picture than Michelangelo’s
Last Judgement.” Men were urged to
sing with a “big boy crying tone” at the
Te decet hymnus (Lauridsen, Lux Aeterna/
Introitus) or “big boy tears” in George
Mead’s arrangement of Down in the Valley. Demonstrating this ideal of an acting tone, Paul described a performance
by the Loyola University (later Loyola
Marymount University) Men’s Chorus
singing this piece.
I think you’ll find that this is probably a different rendition that you’d hear
from anyone else, because when you
listen, I swear you can hear fifty men
in tears. Toward the end, the voices
can barely speak because of it.They
are just heartbroken.That’s how far you
can go with imagination.
Never did a note or a phrase lack
motion for Paul. His love for the flow
of chant lines influenced so much of
this momentum in the music. He often
delighted in quick-beating the choir into
the phrase, inevitably forcing the singers
to play catch-up.
One of the conducting moves that
I have used all my life is a horizontal
gesture in which I move rapidly from
one beat to the next, basically getting
there before the choir does, and then
all of a sudden I hit resistance. I adopted it from one of the most verbally
uncommunicative conductors I’ve
ever worked for, Alfred Wallenstein.
In the late forties and fifties when we
sang all the major works with the Los
Angeles Philharmonic, he never verbalized, but his stick technique was
poetically powerful and beautiful. He
enough.” He loved to teach and probably taught the music world as much
about commitment and self-respect as
he did about musical truth and artistry.
An acknowledged taskmaster and stickler for detail in any rehearsal, he made
a lifelong impression, one that continues
to influence even after his death. In the
end, though, it was still always about the
music. The elegance of his music has
been and will live on as a beacon of the
ultimate artistry in choral music.
Paul Salamunovich
and Palestrina’s Sicut cervus
Paul Salamunovich at his St. Charles retirement, saying a few words at the end of the Mass
of Celebration of his sixty years as director of music at the North Hollywood parish.
had been a cellist under Toscanini,
and when he showed a down-bow
[gesture], going horizontally across
his body, it was almost like “catch up
with me.” That was where I developed
what I call the quick beat. I use it often.
You can achieve the same sensation
in the swimming pool when you start
to move your hands quickly and all of
a sudden you hit the resistance of the
water. It gives wonderful intensity to
the musical line.
Alfred Wallenstein personified the
artist on the podium. He was not a
verbalizer, but when he conducted,
you could see exactly what he wanted.
He conveyed it with non-verbal communication, better than anyone I had
ever seen before or since.
The influence of chant’s chironomy
also influenced how Paul led the choir
into many of the off-beat entrances
in Duruflé’s Requiem. The downbeat
was no longer a downbeat but rather
the circular rise of the arsis. The voices
gently glide in with great élan. He would
caution, “Sing without grabbing the
note—then it will be in motion.” If the
By Robert Summer
choir hesitated in such an entrance, he
urged them to fall into the phrase: “Your
voice will catch you.” Perhaps the motion he valued most was one he used
constantly as the choir sang a long held
note. Immediately his hand would rise
to eye level and gracefully move horizontally, reminding all of the need and
beautiful result of keeping the note alive.
Whether moving dramatically from one
note to the next, or from one phrase
immediately into another interrupted
only by a quick catch-breath, Paul was a
champion of the life of the phrase.
If there is inner energy and intensity
in the singing, you can feel that the
phrase is going to go on, that you have
something more to sing. And you don’t
lose the attention of the listener or the
performers, for that matter. It’s like saying, “And furthermore, something else
is going to happen.” It’s inevitable, the
next phrase.
Paul’s greatness went far beyond his
music making. He was a most caring and
humble man—so often doubting whether what he did musically was “good
The following is adapted from a
chapter in the book Renaissance Music
for the Choral Conductor: A Practical Guide
©2013. Reprinted by permission of
Scarecrow Press.
Paul Salamunovich was a man who
for most of his life had been connected
to the performance and teaching of
Gregorian Chant and music of the
Renaissance.1 Palestrina’s “Sicut cervus”
became a signature work for him as a
result of his many performanes of the
work with church choirs, all-state choruses, and professional choirs.
Histor ical Per spective
and Str uctur al Analysis
The text of Sicut cervus can be translated as follows: “Like as a hart desireth
the waterbrook, so also my soul doth
long for Thee, O God.” Palestrina’s motet
is based on the words of the tract said in
the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday at the
blessing of the font. Ron Jeffers offers
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
49
Paul Salamunovich
the following description of its place in
the service:
“Sicut cervus” [would have been
sung] during the procession to the
baptismal font, following the Collect
which concludes the twelfth and
final Prophecy: Almighty and eternal
God…increase the desires of thy
people, since none of the faithful
can advance to any virtue without
thy inspiration.2
The motet is divided into three large
sections and displays the classic structure of a sixteenth-century motet. One
melody is associated with the opening
line of the text, and that melody is
imitated in all the other voices. When
the text changes, another melodic idea
A Beacon of the Chor al Ar t
appears, which is in turn imitated by all
voices. The first section stretches from
m. 1 to m. 25, the second (overlapping
the first) includes mm. 23– 44, and the
final one begins at m. 44 with the sopranos singing the words “anima mea.”
Although the divisions of the work are
draped in overlapping phrases, there are
two subsections, one that begins at m.
13 with the basses, and the other beginning at m. 31 when a repeat of the music
first introduced by basses and tenors in
m. 23 is heard again.
The first section opens with a single
voice-part singing a melody that is twenty-six beats long. This is extremely long
when compared to the melodic fragments used in the final section, which are
fourteen beats (“anima mea”) and nine
beats (“ad te Deus”) in length. In the
second section, beginning at m. 23, the
basses and tenors are paired in their imitation, as are the sopranos and altos. But
in the third section, beginning with the
words “anima mea,” the texture thickens,
as not only one melodic idea is imitated,
but another melodic fragment on “ad
te Deus” is sung simultaneously. In this
last section, the distance of the entries
between one melodic fragment and the
next is sometimes only two beats. Looking at the work as a whole, this progression from single voice to paired voices
to full contrapuntal equality is effectively
responsible for the forward motion and
eventual climax.
In this motet, Palestrina never let a
cadence have any sense of finality until
Paul Salamunovich and Pope John Paul II, 1985. The St. Charles Borromeo Choir had the privilege of singing for this future saint in a private
audience in the Vatican’s Clementine Hall.
50
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
the final one. Every linear cadence is
interrupted by voices dropping out or
voices continuing beyond the cadence
note, giving the whole work a seamless
quality. The diluting of the strength of
cadences occurs at measures 12, 22,
31, and 41. This work represents the
epitome in music of what has come to
be known as the High Renaissance style.
Chor al Tone
My foundation of choral
tone is based on how
one would sing chant.
The sound is built upon
the male falsetto—a tone that is away
from the chest voice, a tone that is
buoyant and feels as if it were floating
on a bed of air. I have the men sing in
falsetto a high “D” on the “oo” vowel
and ask the altos to match that sound,
turning the altos into countertenors.
In this way, when the two parts sing
their own part, they sound identical.
This establishes the basic timbre of
the choir. This sound becomes an axle
or anchor around which all the other
parts function. My sound for Renaissance music comes from those altos,
keeping in mind that the alto part was
the highest of the men’s voices at that
time since women were not allowed
to sing in church. Today, the sounds of
sopranos around the world are nationalistic—the English sound is different
from the French, is different from the
singers in Slavic countries, etc. Their
tone is strongly affected by the way
that they speak their language. But
the male alto sound is universal. No
matter where one goes, the male alto
sound is the same.
My ideal tone for chant and Renaissance music should float, be buoyant,
be spiritual, and be simply awesome.
In order to create that sound, the
singer needs to use more breath and
create space in the mouth with the soft
palette raised. Sometimes I’ll imitate
how a British gentleman or English
chorister would say the word “God.”
This English sound has great space in
the mouth as a result of raising the soft
palette and dropping the jaw. I also
have used the analogy of placing a
short pencil, sharpened on both ends,
between the tongue and the roof of the
mouth. This position is guaranteed to
produce a head tone!
For this type of music, I hear a tone
that is away from the chest voice and
built on the use of the head tone for
all of the voices. My aim would be to
achieve the following ideals:
Phr asing the
Renaissance Line
The music of the Renaissance needs
to show restraint of tempo, dynamics,
and expressiveness, but it still needs to
communicate its message. Accents in
chant and in music of the Renaissance
come entirely from word stress. In
rehearsing, I draw attention to the accented word or syllable by preparing
the accent with a slight crescendo and
then backing off at the last minute as if
to say, “Now…only kidding!” Let the
accented syllable or word blossom;
• Sopranos singing lightly
• Altos sounding like countertenors
• Tenors matching the sound of the
altos
• Basses lightening the tone so that
the sound never has the feeling
of “growling”
I tell the sopranos to place the
sound behind their front teeth—“Don’t
let me see your teeth!” When the
basses become too aggressive, I might
say: “Basses, why are you so angry? Be
gentle and sing with love.” I also like
for the singers to shape their mouths as
if they were singing German umlauts.
This makes all the vowels consistent
and helps to avoid the interruption
of the musical line. I never say “no
vibrato,” because I always want a
shimmer to the tone. Instead, I might
say, “Keep the tension in the line from
here to there.” I will urge singers to
put the sound behind the top lip, have
eyes open as large as saucers (it opens
the back of the throat), and drop the
jaw to the floor.
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
51
Paul Salamunovich
treat it or shape it as < >.
At the peak of the phrase, I will ask
the singers to add a short decrescendo
and put above the note the letters “hb,”
meaning hold back. Or, I use the following analogy: A little boy is held up
by his father in order to see over the
crowd. As the father brings him down,
the child says, “Oh no, Daddy, just a
little longer.” To encourage singers to
hold on to the top notes, I might say
to the singers, “How’s the view up
there!” And then, after the stressed syllable, the singer should immediately
crescendo in preparation for the next
accent as if someone were riding a
bicycle up a hill and after reaching the
top, coasts downward to the next spot.
Vocally lift or caress the accented
syllable; don’t strike it. Pull the note,
stretch it, lean on it. The rise of the line
should receive activity or energy like
the arsis in a chant line; and accented
syllables, especially those extending
over several notes, should be activated
for the entire length of the word or
syllable. My singers have heard me
say things like: “Energize the accented
syllable for its full duration,” “lift the
note,” “activate the sound,” and “stir
up the phrase.”
All of these commands are related to
the same message. This activity can be
diagrammed somewhat as if the singer
were performing the phrasing as seen
in Figure 1.
52
A Beacon of the Chor al Ar t
Paul Salamunovich in his home office.The wall of pictures is filled with memorabilia reflecting
his work with Igor Stravinsky, Roger Wagner, Maurice Duruflé, Zubin Mehta, Andy Williams,
and Robert de Niro, among others.
In the opening phrase of “Sicut
cervus,” I ask that the “si” of “sicut” be
sung as if it were an umlaut with lips
forward and the sound placed behind
the upper teeth. Then I guide the singers to let the music lift slightly into
“cervus.” And the “de” of “desiderat”
should be hardly touched so that it
doesn’t interrupt the line. Never let the
music stop. In this first line, everything
goes toward the word “aquarum.”
This is the phraseological accent that
gives direction to the music. One
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
should keep a sense of “yearning”
in the performance of this music that
reflects the meaning of the text. In
order to not destroy the line, I ask the
same umlaut position—rounding the
lips—on “ita” beginning in m. 23,
instead of the commonly heard spread
sound of “ee.” To avoid getting stuck
on the first syllable, which impairs the
forward motion of a line of music, I
will urge the singers to feel as if they
already have been singing before their
entrance. When low in the range, sing-
ers should sing in a sotto voce voice.
The music and line should always
have a sense of forwardness to it, just
as one would strive to do in chant.
There needs to be a tension in the line,
pulling and giving a little, with the
end of one syllable being the beginning of another. And the last syllable
is always the gentlest and softest. In
“Sicut cervus” (and in other works of
this nature), I tell my singers not to rush
the eighth-notes with phrases such as,
“Give them their full length,” “Show
them how much you love them,” and
“Don’t forget the little guy.”
And suspensions are so important
because they not only sound beautiful,
but they often define the cadence and
indicate the end of a section. Locate
all suspensions and make them expressive by not letting the voice that
makes the tension (usually that one
having the tied note) diminish until
the dissonance is heard. For me, suspensions in this music have the same
feeling as when you pinch your skin
until it hurts a little, but when you let
go, it feels so good.
Rehear sal Procedures
First, I would read the text, give
the choir a literal translation, and talk
about its meaning. Then the singers
would be asked to circle all of the
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accented words or syllables in their
own parts. I would try to voice the
choir like an English choir with the
altos sounding like countertenors, the
tenors like the altos, the sopranos on
a “loo,” slightly above a hum, and the
basses in their head voice, away from
a rough chest voice. Sometimes I have
everyone, including men in falsetto,
sing the alto part of “Sicut cervus” from
the beginning, encouraging them to
phrase the line with care, to listen to
one another, and to keep a consistency
of tone. We would rehearse this part
up to m. 25, and then do the same
with the other parts. It might seem as
if singing each part separately takes an
inordinate amount of time, but with
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CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
53
Paul Salamunovich
each part having been written in such
an independent way, it’s the only way
to do it. I believe that in the long run,
it’s much more efficient. Other times,
I might have the sopranos and altos
sing together after establishing the
sound of the choir; then the tenors
and basses together so that they listen
to one another.
Many places demand that the syllable be activated—m. 9 in soprano,
m. 14 in tenor, m. 21 in alto, to mention only a few. After doing this first
section, I’d jump to m. 23 where the
basses and tenors begin a new section
(new text, new melody) and rehearse
it in a similar manner.
For the last section, beginning in
m. 40, I’d ask everyone to sing, in their
own parts and on words, only those
notes that have the words “anima
mea”; everything else should be sung
on “loo.” With the last phrase, “ad te,
Deus,” the principle of having energy
in the beginning of the phrase, as is
done in chant, should be applied here.
In this way, all entries are heard, even
though the counterpoint here is fairly
equal as the climax builds to a stunning finish.
Conducting Gestures
I often conduct music from this period in circles and/or with horizontal
motions of the hand. In my conducting I want to push the line forward
or keep the phrase energized, and
always to show a maximum of breath
preparation. My gesture is connected
to the words of the text. In music of
the Renaissance, any gesture is acceptable that moves the music forward.
Anything metric is deadly! Be aware of
not only entries but lines that rise and
need energy. Direct your conducting
gestures to those moments that need
attention, even for a few seconds. Stay
54
A Beacon of the Chor al Ar t
Paul Salamunovich Rehearsal Portrait
with one vocal section until the next
musical event occurs.
His eyes were often wide open
and his mouth in the position of the
next vowel—a look of amazement or
surprise. He had sometimes said to
choirs, “Sing with your eyes. Let your
eyes sparkle.” The facial expression of
surprise often has an involuntary effect
on raising the soft palette and creating
space in the mouth. All of this encourages the use of head voice, making the
sound more buoyant and lyrical. He
would shake his hands in order to stir
up a phrase or move it forward, and the
shape of his hand for a cue was often in
the shape of the vowel to be sung. He
would often use an upward motion in
order to lift the beginning of a phrase.
He admitted to being an actor and
encouraged the singers to act in order
to reflect the meaning of the music.
His conducting was strongly connected
to his body and to a very expressive
CHORAL JOURNAL Volume 55 Number 3
face. His face would scrunch in seeming
agony when something was too loud or
something rehearsed was not reflected
in the singing. His eyes closed when he
wanted a pianissimo and, sometimes, just
to enjoy the beauty of the sound.
Nothing can capture the dynamic
personality and fervor that Paul Salamunovich brought to making music. He
had to be seen to be believed. There
have been few people as passionate
about music and about getting others
to make beautiful music than he was. As
a person, he was emotionally charged,
passionate about the pursuit of excellence and beauty, yet kind, honest, and
loving. Perhaps this article will serve to
remind those who have worked with
him of specific techniques that he used
and to assist others in exploring effective
approaches to interpreting Renaissance
music, while showing how special this
man was in the way he touched performers and listeners.
His advice to young conductors:
Be honest.
Seek beauty.
Share from your heart.3
NOTES
1
For those interested in fur ther study
on Salamunovich’s approach and
methods of making music, the author
recommends the DVD documentary
Paul Salamunovich: Chant and Beyond
(Hal Leonard Publishing Inc., 2006), in
which Salamunovich works with the
Sam Houston State University Choir
(Allen Hightower, conductor) and his
own choir at St. Charles Borromeo
Church.
2
Ron Jeffers, Translations and Annotations of
Choral Repertoire: Vol. I-Sacred Latin Texts
(Earthsongs press, 1988), 199.
3
Salamunovich, Chant and Beyond.