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The influence of African-American harmonizing on the 'American' choral works of Frederick Delius

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The influence of African-American harmonizing on the 'American' choral works of Frederick Delius

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THE
INFLUENCE
OF
AFRICAN-‐AMERICAN
HARMONIZING
ON
THE
‘AMERICAN’

CHORAL
WORKS
OF
FREDERICK
DELIUS

By

Stephen
Matthew
Black

___________________________________________________________________________________

A
Dissertation
Presented
to
the

FACULTY
OF
THE
USC
THORNTON
SCHOOL
OF
MUSIC

UNIVERSITY
OF
SOUTHERN
CALIFORNIA

In
Partial
Fulfillment
of
the

Requirements
for
the
Degree

DOCTOR
OF
MUSICAL
ARTS

(CHORAL
MUSIC)

DECEMBER
2015

Copyright
2015

Stephen
Matthew
Black

ii

To
my
mother,
Betty
F.
Black,
who
was
the
first
to
encourage
me
to
cultivate
my

passion
for
music,
and
whose
love
and
sacrifice
continue
to
inspire
me
to
strive
for

excellence
in
my
career
as
a
musician.

iii

Acknowledgments

I
would
like
to
express
my
most
profound
gratitude
to
Dr.
Jo-‐Michael
Scheibe,
who

as
my
advisor
served
as
a
teacher,
advocate,
and
friend.
His
dedication
to
the
choral

arts,
as
well
as
to
his
students,
is
exemplary.
I
wish
to
also
thank
the
other
members

of
my
doctoral
dissertation
committee,
including
Dr.
Cristian
Grases,
and
in

particular
Dr.
Nick
Strimple,
who
offered
valuable
advice
regarding
paths
of

research.
I
am
thankful
to
the
following
individuals
for
their
assistance
in
helping

me
navigate
the
archival
collections
at
their
institutions:
Moira
Fitzgerald,
Beinecke

Rare
Book
&
Manuscript
Library,
Yale
University,
New
Haven,
CT;
Joe
Hursey,

Smithsonian
National
Museum
of
American
History,
Washington,
D.
C.
;
and
Laurie

Lee
Moses,
Center
for
Black
Music
Research,
Columbia
College
Chicago,
Chicago,
IL.

Additionally,
I
would
like
to
thank
the
following
individuals
for
their
responses
to

my
correspondence
regarding
this
project:
Lynn
Abbott,
musicologist,
Samuel

Barbara,
conductor;
Elias
Blumm,
Boosey
&
Hawkes;
James
Newton,
conductor;

Zanaida
Robles,
conductor
and
Tim
Sloan,
Elkin
Music.
Lastly,
I
wish
to
express
my

sincere
and
heartfelt
gratitude
to
my
family
and
friends
who
have
supported
and

encouraged
me
in
this
endeavor.

iv

Table
of
Contents

Dedication

ii

Acknowledgments

iii

List
of
Examples

v

Abstract

vii

Foreword

viii

Introduction

1

Chapter
1:

Frederick
Delius
in
America:
1884-‐1885

14

Chapter
2:

Koanga,
Sea
Drift,
and
Appalachia
–
An
Overview

31

Chapter
3:

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
–
An
Analysis

63

Chapter
4:

Frederick
Delius
and
Duke
Ellington

81

Conclusion

98

Bibliography

104

Appendix
A:

Excerpt
from
Afro-‐American
Folksongs
(1914),
E.
H.
Krehbiel
109

Appendix
B:

Photos
from
the
William
T.
Russo
Collection

111

Appendix
C:

Two
Versions
of
‘Will
You
Be
There,’
Duke
Ellington

113

v

List
of
Examples

Example
1.1.

Melody
line,
‘Poor
Mourner
Got
a
Home
at

18

Last.’

Example
2.1
Koanga,
Act
I,
‘O
Lawd,
I’m
goin’
away,’

34

mm.
86-‐94.

Example
2.2
Koanga,
Act
I,
‘Johnny
say
you
got
to
reap
what
37

you
sow,’
mm.
140-‐146.

Example
2.3
Koanga,
Act
I,
‘D’lilah
was
a
woman
fair,’
mm.
41

358-‐64.

Example
2.4
Koanga,
Act
II,
‘Now
once
in
a
way,’
mm.
1-‐13.
46

Example
2.5
Appalachia,
‘After
night
has
gone
comes
the
49

day,’
mm.
534-‐549.

Example
2.6
Appalachia,
‘Oh
honey,
I
am
going
down
the
53

river
in
the
morning,’
mm.
592-‐601.

Example
2.7
Sea
Drift,
‘O
rising
stars,’
mm.
344-‐69.

58

Example
3.1
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.

65

5-‐8.

Example
3.2
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
66

1-‐4.

Example
3.3
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
68

13-‐16.

Example
3.4
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
69

17-‐21.

Example
3.5
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
70

22-‐25.

Example
3.6
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.

71

26-‐30.

Example
3.7
Ending
No.
3,
from
Barbershop
Ballads
and
72

How
To
Sing
Them,
Spaeth.

Example
3.8
Barbershop
ending,
Tenor
II
lead.

72

vi

Example
3.9
Theme
of
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
No.
73

2,
mm.
1-‐4.

Example
3.10
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
2,
mm.
74

3-‐8.

Example
3.11
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
2,
mm.
76

9-‐14.

Example
3.12
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
2,
mm.
78

21-‐26.

Example
3.13
Ending
No.
46,
Barbershop
Ballads
and
How
79

To
Sing
Them,
Spaeth.

Example
4.1
First
Sacred
Concert,
Duke
Ellington,
‘Will

88

You
Be
There?,’
mm.
1-‐5.

Example
4.2
Third
Sacred
Concert,
Duke
Ellington,
‘Lord’s
90

Prayer,’
mm.
8-‐15.

Example
4.3
Showboat,
Act
I,
‘Ol’
Man
River,’
from
the

94

first
production
(1927),
Kern
and

Hammerstein,
mm.
66-‐74.

vii

Abstract

The
influence
of
late
nineteenth
century
African-‐American
folk
music
on
the
works

of
Frederick
Delius,
while
acknowledged
by
such
prominent
advocates
as
Sir

Thomas
Beecham
and
Percy
Grainger,
has
only
begun
to
be
carefully
studied
in
the

last
twenty
years.

Delius
himself
did
not
have
much
to
say
about
the
matter,
though

he
expressed
affection
for
African-‐American
singing
and
harmonizing
several
times

in
conversation
and
correspondence.
While
scholarly
attention
has
focused
on
the

impact
of
the
repertory
of
African-‐American
sacred
and
secular
tunes
on
Delius’s

music,
the
study
of
extemporaneous
harmonizing
by
African-‐Americans
and
its

influence
has
been
neglected.
When
harmonizing
has
been
discussed,
it
has
been
in

the
context
of
the
performance
of
spirituals.
This
paper
will
argue
that
the

improvised
harmonizing
of
a
wide
variety
of
music
by
late
nineteenth
century

African-‐American
male
quartets
is
an
important
influence
in
Delius’s
choral
music,

and
in
particular
the
‘American’
works.
The
study
will
begin
with
a
review
of
the

latest
scholarship
on
African-‐American
part-‐singing
in
the
late
nineteenth
century.

Delius’s
choral-‐orchestral
works
Appalachia
and
Sea
Drift,
as
well
as
choral
music

from
the
opera
Koanga,
will
be
examined
for
evidence
of
compositional
techniques

that
may
be
linked
to
African-‐American
quartet
harmonizing
practices.
Additionally,

the
a
cappella
choral
miniature
To
Be
Sung
of
a
Summer
Night
on
the
Water
will

undergo
a
careful
measure-‐by-‐measure
analysis.
All
four
works
will
be
compared
to

choral
music
from
the
Sacred
Concerts
of
Duke
Ellington,
which
bears
a
similar

imprint.
Finally,
these
matters
will
be
considered
in
light
of
Delius
as
a
harmonist
in

inspiration,
structure,
and
style.

viii

Foreword

On
the
evening
of
Sunday,
May
22,
2011,
I
attended
a
concert
by
the
Los

Angeles
Master
Chorale
in
Disney
Hall.
The
concert
featured
selections
from
Duke

Ellington’s
Sacred
Concerts,
and
was
conducted
by
Grant
Gershon
and
James

Newton.
I
had
not
heard
this
music
before,
and
I
was
not
familiar
with
the

composition
or
performance
history
of
the
Sacred
Concerts.
Two
measures
into
the

first
a
cappella
selection
on
the
program,
I
sat
bolt
upright
in
my
seat,
and
my
ears

perked.
This
sounds
exactly
like
Delius,
I
thought.
I
continued
to
listen
with

heightened
attention,
and
simultaneously
thought
about
how
this
could
be
so.
I

recognized
immediately
that
it
was
the
harmony
that
caused
this
reaction.
As
an

aficionado
of
Delius’s
music,
and
as
a
conductor
and
singer
who
has
performed
a

handful
of
his
works,
I
came
into
the
concert
already
familiar
with
the
sound
world

of
one
of
England’s
more
curious
musical
products.
I
was
superficially
familiar
with

Delius’s
time
in
Florida,
and
also
vaguely
aware
that
various
musicians
and
scholars

had
written
about
African-‐American
music
and
its
possible
influence
on
Delius.

The
immediate
conclusion
I
arrived
at
was
that
there
must
be
some
musical

ancestor
that
was
an
influence
in
the
harmony
of
both
Delius
and
Ellington.
There

must
be
a
thread
that
links
the
sound
of
these
two
musicians,
who,
while
from

entirely
different
backgrounds,
shared
a
love
for
harmonizing.
It
is
unfortunate
that

Delius
was
not
extensively
questioned
during
his
lifetime
about
the
black
music
he

heard,
given
his
frequently
stated
affection
for
the
black
music
that
he
heard
in

Florida.
Fortunately,
in
the
last
two
decades
a
few
individuals
have
undertaken

serious
study
of
the
implications
of
African-‐American
harmonizing
on
Delius’s

harmonic
language.

At
the
present
time
there
are
three
people
whose
contributions
to
the
study

of
late
nineteenth
century
African-‐American
music
most
impact
any
study
of
this

music’s
influence
on
Frederick
Delius.
The
first
of
these
is
Lynn
Abbott.
His
work

ix

focused
on
researching
primary
source
material
found
in
newspapers
(including

black
publications),
sheet
music
and
other
print
sources.
Mr.
Abbott
sought
to
prove

that
barbershop
quartets
originated
in
the
recreational
music
of
blacks
in
the
latter

half
of
the
nineteenth
century.
For
most
of
the
twentieth
century
it
was
assumed

that
barbershop
quartet
singing
was
solely
derived
from
earlier
nineteenth
century

European
singing
traditions
that
found
their
way
to
the
United
States.
Mr.
Abbott’s

ground
breaking
article
“
‘Play
that
Barber
Shop
Chord’:
A
Case
for
the
African-‐
American
Origin
of
Barbershop
Harmony,”
which
appeared
in
1992,
was
the
first

serious
scholarship
to
challenge
this
assumption.
This
seminal
work
paved
the
way

for
investigation
into
the
legitimacy
of
black
harmonizing.
The
second
is
James
Earl

Henry,
who
has,
through
an
exhaustive
analysis
of
early
jazz
and
barbershop
music,

definitively
linked
the
two
by
their
similar
musical
techniques.
He
classifies
these

various
techniques
in
three
categories,
including
1)
call
and
response,
2)
rhythmic

drive,
or
propulsion,
and
3)
blues
harmony,
or
the
blue
note.
Whereas
Abbott’s
work

focused
on
culling
historical
evidence
to
prove
his
hypothesis,
Henry
undertook

rigorous
analysis
of
the
music
to
both
validate
the
legitimacy
of
quartet
harmonizing

and
to
establish
its
influence
on
future
musical
developments.
Finally,
the
British

musicologist
Vic
Hobson
has
written
extensively
about
quartet
singing
and
the

origins
of
jazz.
He
sought
to
prove
that
the
roots
of
early
New
Orleans
jazz
lay
in

quartet
singing
by
blending
both
the
historical
approach
of
Abbott
and
the
analytical

approach
of
Henry.
The
findings
of
his
research
showed
that
practically
all
of
the

major
African-‐American
musicians
in
New
Orleans
at
the
beginning
of
the
20
th

century
were
singers
in
barbershop
quartets
as
boys
and
young
men.
He
further

sought
to
show
the
link
between
the
common
pastime
of
improvised
singing
in

barbershop
quartets
and
the
collectively
improvised
structure
of
jazz,
which
was

different
from
ragtime
and
its
strong
link
to
printed
music.

The
work
of
these
three
individuals
has
been
invaluable
to
my
research,
as
I

have
sought
to
explore
the
influence
of
African-‐American
harmonizing
on
Delius.
My

investigation
has
taken
some
unexpected
twists
and
turns,
but
I
am
happy
to
say

that
the
rigors
of
research
have
not
dampened
my
love
for
the
music
of
one
of
the

twentieth
century’s
most
idiosyncratic
composers.
I
believe
that
the
information
in

x

this
dissertation
will
be
useful
not
only
to
Delian
scholars,
but
also
those
interested

in
the
history
of
African-‐American
music
and
its
influence
on
other
genres
of
music.

1

Introduction

The
composer
Frederick
Delius
is
not
well
known
to
most
musicians
in

Europe
and
America
today.

Delius
is
often
characterized
as
an
isolated
composer
of

pleasant
(or
insipid,
depending
on
the
viewpoint)
pastoral
sketches
with
an
English

flavor,
and
is
considered
to
have
had
little
impact
on
the
course
of
art
music
in
the

twentieth
century.
Yet
Delius
should
occupy
a
position
of
greater
importance
than

he
does
–
at
least
in
America
–
because
of
the
time
he
spent
as
a
young
man
in

Florida
and
Virginia
in
the
years
1884-‐1885.

Delius
related
to
Eric
Fenby
(1906-‐
1997),
his
amanuensis
late
in
life:

‘In
Florida,
through
sitting
and
gazing
at
Nature,
I
gradually
learnt
the
way
in

which
I
should
eventually
find
myself,
but
it
was
not
until
years
after
I
had

settled
at
Grez
that
I
really
found
myself.

Nobody
could
help
me.

Contemplation,
like
composition,
cannot
be
taught.’
1

These
thoughts,
as
Fenby
relates
them,
are
revealing.
There
is
no
mention
of

England
or
Germany,
though
Delius
grew
up
in
England
and
studied
at
the
Leipzig

Conservatory.

More
than
once
Delius
panned
the
education
he
received
in
Leipzig,

saying
that
the
only
valuable
thing
to
come
out
of
his
time
there
was
meeting
Edvard

Grieg
and
discussing
music
with
other
musicians.
2

He
also
derided
the
notion
of

English
music,
exclaiming
to
Fenby,
“English
music?
Well,
I’ve
never
heard
of
any!”
3

The
anecdote
acknowledges
Florida
as
the
soil
in
which
the
seeds
of
Delius’s

compositional
activity
were
planted,
and
alludes
to
his
artistic
maturity
in
France,

where
his
most
critically
acclaimed
music
was
written.

1

Eric
Fenby,
Delius
As
I
Knew
Him.
London:
Faber
&
Faber,
1981,
164.

2

Ibid.,
168

3

Ibid.,
16,
Mr.
Fenby
additionally
stated
that
he
would
never
forget
the
change
that
came
over
Delius

when,
in
the
course
of
casual
conversation,
he
mentioned
the
two
words
‘English
music.’

2

For
decades
scholars
considered
Delius’s
time
in
Florida
as
little
more
than

the
impetus
for
his
career,
and
made
only
passing
reference
to
the
possibility
of
the

influence
of
African-‐American
music.
Eric
Blom,
musicologist
and
editor
of
the
5
th

edition
of
the
Groves
Dictionary
of
Music
and
Musicians
(1954),
wrote
this
in
1929:

In
America,
as
I
have
lately
heard
from
various
people
who
know,
including

an
eminent
critic
whom
I
found
rather
guardedly
appreciative,
Delius
has,
I

will
not
say
no
vogue,
for
that
he
has
nowhere,
but
scarcely
a
hold
on
the

most
widely
cultivated
musicians.
It
is
chiefly
my
curiosity
as
to
the
causes
of

this
neglect,
and
the
hope
that
I
may
elicit
some
information
on
the
subject,

that
makes
me
write
on
this
composer
in
an
American
journal.
4

Only
once
in
the
article
does
Blom
mention
African-‐American
influence,
and
that
is

to
say
that
the
tune
upon
which
the
variations
in
the
choral
orchestral
work

Appalachia
is
an
old
African-‐American
song.

In
contrast,
Blom
devotes
two
entire

pages
to
a
discussion
of
similarities
between
the
music
of
Delius
and
the
music
of

the
American
composer
Edward
MacDowell
(1860-‐1908).

He
clearly
thought
that

his
comparison
would
strike
a
chord
with
American
readers,
stating,
“A
link

between
the
U.
S.
A.
and
Delius,
and
one
that
should
be
most
gratifying
to
Americans,

is
a
certain
affinity
with
MacDowell
which
his
[Delius’s]
music
in
some
of
its
phases

undoubtedly
shows,
though
I
am
not
aware
that
it
has
ever
been
pointed
out
by
any

critic.”
5

This
general
attitude
towards
Delius’s
stay
in
America,
which
is
ignorant
or

dismissive
of
Delius’s
assimilation
of
elements
of
African-‐American
music,
would

remain
commonplace
until
the
late
twentieth
century,
when
scholars
such
as

William
Randel,
Philip
Jones,
and
others
began
exploring
the
links
between
the

music
of
black
musicians
in
the
nineteenth
century
American
South
and
the
works

of
Delius.

The
unfamiliarity
of
musicians
and
scholars
with
the
influence
of
African-‐
American
music
on
Delius
is
in
part
a
reflection
on
the
obscurity
of
Delius’s
music
in

4

Eric
Blom,
“Delius
and
America.”
The
Musical
Quarterly,
Vol.
15,
No.
3

(Jul.,
1929):
439.

5

Ibid.,
445.

3

general.
Delius
is
one
of
the
most
enigmatic
composers
of
those
associated
with

twentieth
century
English
music.
During
his
career,
Delius
was
insufficiently

‘English’
for
some
critics
and
concertgoers,
even
though
he
was
born
and
raised
in

England.
His
parents
were
German
immigrants,
and
he
lived
almost
all
of
his
adult

life
outside
his
homeland.
Philip
Heseltine
had
this
to
say
about
Delius’s
nationality:

Delius's position in the musical world of today is one of curious isolation; he has
ever held aloof from the great public, and it is scarcely surprising that he is
regarded with a certain bewilderment, as a mysterious, enigmatic, albeit as many
are certainly beginning to realise a very arresting figure. The details of his life are
shrouded in a certain amount of obscurity, which the programme-annotators,
with their inevitable catalogue of the places where he has resided, and nothing
more, have not conspicuously helped to clear away. The somewhat elusive
problem of his nationality has given needless trouble to many, and recently the
superstition that he is really a German was made use of in a particularly
disgraceful manner by intriguing parties, in order to defer a certain public
recognition of his genius that has long been overdue. From the purely musical
point of view, however, nationality is not a factor that counts for anything in the
case of Delius. Indeed, he himself never vaunts his English origin, preferring to
be considered a pure cosmopolitan, 'a good European' as Nietzsche would have
called him.
6

A
more
recent
perspective
is
that
of
Eric
Saylor,
who
writes:

Beginning
in
the
1880s,
many
British
musicians
(initially
led
by
prominent

figures
at
the
Royal
College
of
Music)
began
working
to
professionalize
and

reform
England’s
musical
culture
in
performance,
composition,
teaching,
and

education;
this
movement
(often
referred
to
as
the
“English
Musical

Renaissance”)
had
a
profound
impact
on
almost
every
serious
musician
in

the
nation.
Delius,
however,
was
largely
unconcerned
about
the
state
of

English
musical
life
or
his
place
within
it.
His
own
style
was
more
indebted
to

Grieg
and
Wagner
than
to
any
of
his
British
contemporaries,
and
he
was
far

more
concerned
with
pursuing
his
own
artistic
interests
than
gaining

acceptance
within
the
English
musical
establishment.
7

6

Philip
Heseltine,
“Some
Notes
on
Delius
and
His
Music.”

The
Musical
Times
56,
(Jan
1,
1915):
137.

7

Eric
Saylor,
“Race,
“Realism,”
and
Fate
in
Frederick
Delius’s
Koanga.”
in
Blackness
in
Opera,
André,

Naomi;
Bryan,
Karen
M.
and
Saylor,
Eric,
ed.
Champaign:
University
of
Illinois
Press,
2012,
91.

4

Just
as
Delius’s
music
is
generally
unfamiliar
to
classical
musicians,
his
choral

music
is
largely
unknown
to
choral
conductors
and
singers.
Delius
wrote
few
works

for
a
cappella
choir,
or
chorus
accompanied
by
piano
or
a
small
group
of

instruments.

By
far
the
most
substantial
music
for
chorus
is
that
which
is

accompanied
by
symphony
orchestra,
and
it
is
upon
this
music
that
Delius’s

reputation
as
a
choral
composer
rests.

And
yet
the
logistics
of
performing
such

large
works
limits
the
accessibility
of
his
choral
music
to
performers
and
audiences.

Many
of
these
works
are
massively
scaled,
and
require
substantial
resources,
even

for
large
organizations.
Additionally
the
choral
parts
are
difficult,
demanding

significant
rehearsal
time.
Several
conductors
in
Germany
initially
rejected
Delius’s

largest
work,
the
Mass
of
Life,
on
account
of
the
difficulty
of
the
choral
parts.
8

The

situation
is
exacerbated
by
the
fact
that
in
works
such
as
Appalachia
the
chorus
is

utilized
for
small
segments,
making
them
impractical
for
concert
performance.

Delius’s
selection
of
texts
and
subject
matter
has
also
played
a
role
in
the

unpopularity
of
some
of
his
choral
music.
Even
Delius’s
most
ardent
supporters

vilified
the
Nietzsche-‐inspired
text
of
his
Requiem,
which
features
at
the
outset
a

dogmatic
denunciation
of
organized
religion;
Christianity
and
Islam
in
particular.

The
Requiem
is
an
extreme
example,
but
some
of
the
other
large
works
also
serve
to

some
degree
as
Delian
manifestos,
such
as
the
Mass
of
Life,
his
largest
composition.

These
works
convey
Delius’s
personal
pantheism,
and
by
their
selection
of
texts

elucidate
an
egotistical
code
of
conduct.
His
most
frequently
performed
large

compositions
for
chorus
and
orchestra
avoid
the
posturing
of
the
afore-‐mentioned

works.
Two
of
these
are
often
referred
to
as
Delius’s
‘American’
works.
The
most

familiar
is
Sea
Drift,
regarded
by
many
critics
and
scholars
as
his
finest
composition.

The
text
for
Sea
Drift
is
taken
from
the
poem
Out
of
the
Cradle
Endlessly
Rocking
by

Walt
Whitman,
9

a
poet
that
English
concert
hall
audiences
were
quite
familiar
with.

In
this
poem
there
is
no
denunciation
of
Christianity
or
Nietzschean
proselytizing,

8

Lionel
Carley,
“Hans
Haym:
Delius’s
Prophet
and
Pioneer.”
Music
&
Letters,
Vol.
54,

No.
1

(Jan.,

1973):
14.
Delius
finished
the
Mass
of
Life
in
1905,
but
it
was
not
performed
in
its
entirety
until
1909.

9

The
poem
Out
of
the
Cradle
Endlessly
Rocking
was
first
published
in
1859
and
later
included
in
the

collection
Leaves
of
Grass,
1960.

5

but
rather
frequent
allusions
to
nature
and
nostalgia.
Appalachia,
composed
a

couple
of
years
before
Sea
Drift,
is
the
other
‘American’
work,
and
is
even
more

direct
in
its
association
with
the
United
States,
and
with
African-‐American
music
in

particular.

Frederick
Delius
and
Antonin
Dvořák
(1841-‐1904)
were
two
of
the
first

European
composers
to
realize
the
riches
of
the
African-‐American
music
tradition

and
explore
integrating
them
into
Western
classical
music
idioms.
Both
Delius
and

Dvořák
encountered
this
music
during
their
visits
to
America
in
the
late
nineteenth

century.

The
major
difference
in
their
experience
is
that
Dvořák
was
exposed
to
this

music
as
a
mature
and
established
composer,
whereas
Delius
was
a
novice

composer
when
he
first
heard
African-‐American
music
in
Florida.
In
Dvořák’s
case
it

was
the
relationship
with
his
student
Harry
T.
Burleigh
(1866-‐1949)
at
the
National

Conservatory
of
America
in
New
York
City
that
stimulated
the
interest
in
African-‐
American
music.
10

Burleigh
sang
spirituals
he
had
learned
in
his
youth
for
Dvořák,

who
would
later
call
them
sorrow-‐songs.
This
well-‐documented
relationship

influenced
the
composition
of
several
works
known
as
the
‘American’
works,
i.e.
the

Symphony
No.
9
“From
the
New
World,”
the
American
Suite
(Opus
89)
and
Eight

Humoresques
for
Piano,
all
written
during
Dvořák’s
years
in
America.
Writers
and

reviewers
of
the
time
noted
the
presence
of
African-‐American
material
in
these

works.
A
typical
notice
was
one
that
appeared
by
the
writer
Charles
Dudley
Warner

in
1894:

During
the
past
winter
there
were
performed
from
unpublished
manuscripts

a
symphony
in
New
York
and
Boston,
and
a
quartet
and
a
quintet
in
these

cities
and
in
Hartford,
composed
by
Antonin
Dvořák,
the
Bohemian
genius

who
has
been
sojourning
in
the
United
States,
which
compositions
for
the

first
time
made
use
of
a
distinctively
American
material
for
the
highest

purposes
of
art.
Fortunately
for
his
experiment,
he
found
here
the
Kneisel

club
to
interpret
the
quartet
and
the
quintet
in
the
most
sympathetic
and

artistic
manner.
In
one
sense
the
material
was
not
new.
What
was
new
was

Dvořák’s
use
of
it,
his
recognition
of
its
adaptability
to
the
highest
musical

10

Eileen
Southern,
The
Music
of
Black
Americans,
3
rd

edition.

New
York:
W.
W.
Norton,
1997,
267.

6

purpose.
What
was
called
negro
music,
the
music
of
the
slaves
on
the

Southern
plantations,
especially
of
the
“spirituals,”
which
were
least

tinctured
by
white
association,
has
always
been
a
favorite
with
the
American

public…
11

While
some
details
of
the
African-‐American
music
Dvořák
heard
are
known,

ascertaining
what
black
music
Delius
heard
is
more
difficult.
There
are
no

documents
in
Delius’s
own
hand
that
indicate
the
types
of
African-‐American
vocal
or

instrumental
music
he
heard.
He
apparently
took
many
notes,
and
likely
transcribed

some
of
the
melodies
he
heard,
but
none
of
this
material
has
survived.
12

He
rarely

wrote
essays
or
gave
interviews,
and
it
seems
a
good
percentage
of
his

correspondence
has
been
lost.
13

What
is
known
is
derived
from
the
writings
of

friends
and
advocates
such
as
Sir
Thomas
Beecham
and
the
composer
Philip

Heseltine
(1894-‐1930)
14
.
It
is
probably
safe
to
say
that
Delius
heard
several
types
of

African-‐American
music.
We
know
that
he
heard
solo
songs
accompanied
by
banjo,

as
well
as
spirituals,
on
the
plantation
in
Florida.
Delius
also
heard
groups
of

workers
and
their
families
singing
from
the
far
reaches
of
the
orange
grove
he
was

tasked
to
manage.
They
likely
sang
work
songs,
spirituals,
and
other
plantation

songs.
Delius
seems
to
have
been
most
fascinated
by
the
way
African-‐American

singers
harmonized,
expressing
to
Philip
Heseltine
his
admiration
for
the
manner
in

which
they
improvised
inner
parts
when
they
sang
their
traditional
songs.
15

Delius’s

11

Charles
Dudley
Warner,
“Editor’s
Study.”
Harper’s
New
Monthly
Magazine,
Vol.
88,
Issue
527
(April

1894):
802,
803.

12

Derek
Healey,
The
Influence
of
African-‐American
Music
on
the
Works
of
Frederick
Delius.

Philadelphia:
Delius
Society,
Philadelphia
Branch,
2003,
10.
Healey
mentions
that
Delius
and
Percy

Grainger
had
hoped
to
collaborate
on
a
publication
of
African-‐American
tunes,
based
on
the
material

Delius
gathered
during
his
American
sojourn.

13

Jeff
Diggers,
“Zu
Johnson’s
Buch:
A
Forgotten
Literary
Piece
by
Frederick
Delius.”
The
Delius
Society

Journal,
No.
126
(Autumn
1999),
23.

14

a.k.a.
Peter
Warlock.

15

Philip
Heseltine,
Frederick
Delius.
Westport,
CT:
Greenwood
Press,
1974,
42.

7

comment
to
Heseltine
was
one
of
several
comments
attributed
to
him
in
which
he

praised
the
harmonic
skill
of
African-‐American
singers.
Delius
made
a
similar

observation
to
Fenby,
recounting
that
he
would
smoke
cigars
on
his
verandah
late

into
the
evening
and
listen
to
their
“subtle
improvisations
in
harmony.”
16

Delius

wrote
to
Elgar:

Negroes
are
certainly
the
most
musical
people
in
America.
Sitting
on
my

plantation
in
Florida
on
the
verandah
after
the
evening
meal
I
used
to
listen

to
the
beautiful
singing
in
four-‐part
harmony
of
the
Negroes
in
their
own

quarters
at
the
back
of
the
orange
grove.
It
was
quite
entrancing.
17

It
is
not
surprising
that
Delius
would
be
captivated
most
by
the
exotic

harmonizing
of
African-‐American
singing,
as
harmony
possessed
almost
exclusive

power
to
move
him.
Fenby
said
that
for
Delius,
“the
power
to
stir,
or
be
stirred,
was

always
measured
by
the
harmonic
intensity
of
the
work.”
18

While
there
are
several

instances
of
Delius
mentioning
African-‐American
harmony,
there
is
no

documentation
to
speak
of
regarding
Delius’s
opinions
of
African-‐American
rhythm

and
melody.
It
is
apparent
that
Delius’s
enthusiasm
for
the
black
music
he
heard
in

Florida
(and
later
Virginia)
was
derived
from
the
improvised
harmonies
of
vocal

music,
and
not
from
the
repertoire
of
black
melodies.
Dvořák,
on
the
other
hand,

was
most
fascinated
by
African-‐American
tunes.
Before
the
premiere
of
Symphony

No.
9
in
E
minor,
“From
the
New
World,”
Op.
95,
Dvořák

said:

16

Fenby,
25.

17

Lionel
Carley
and
Robert
Threlfall,
Delius:
A
Life
in
Pictures.
London:
Oxford
University
Press,
1977,

12.
Delius
made
this
observation
about
black
music
and
harmony
more
than
once,
though
this
seems

to
be
the
only
mention
of
four
parts
in
any
of
the
source
material.

This
will
be
recalled
later
when
the

music
of
black
male
quartets
is
discussed.

18

Fenby,
202.

8

…
In
the
negro
melodies
of
America
I
discover
all
that
is
needed
for
a
great

and
noble
school
of
music.
They
are
pathetic,
tender,
passionate,
melancholy,

solemn,
religious,
bold,
merry,
gay,
or
what
you
will.
19

Delius’s
music
has
often
been
criticized
for
its
lack
of
melodic
interest.

William
Randel
echoes
a
common
criticism
of
Delius’s
melodic
writing,
saying,

“melodic
invention
is
poorly
developed
in
the
composer,
who
often
gives
us
vague

shapes
where
we
look
for
strong
outlines.”
20

Delius’s
lack
of
concern
for
melody

went
hand
in
hand
with
his
disdain
for
classical
forms.
He
often
said
that
the
most

important
element
was
“a
sense
of
flow.”
21

The
formal
structure
of
Delius’s
music

has
consequently
been
criticized,
and
some
writers
claim
there
is
no
form
at
all.

Conversely,
the
English
critic
Anthony
Payne
says
that
while
conventional
formal

analysis
does
not
apply
to
Delius’s
music,
a
sense
of
form
can
result
when
the
music

is
studied
in
terms
of
emotional
tension
and
release.
22

Delius’s
predilection
for
harmony
began
at
an
early
age
and
never
waned.
His

sister
Clare
Delius
recounted
in
her
biography
how
Delius
loathed
traditional

lessons
in
piano
playing,
preferring
instead
to
play
by
ear.
She
recalled
in
particular

the
richness
of
Delius’s
harmonic
progressions
in
her
description
of
his

accompanying,
“Fred
would
make
up
the
most
wonderful
accompaniments,
full
of

the
marvelous
harmonies
for
which
years
later
he
was
to
become
so
celebrated.”
23

There
is
a
similar
anecdote
from
his
time
in
Virginia
as
a
young
man,
when
he
would

sit
at
the
piano
and
improvise
extravagant
harmonies
with
his
host.
The

19

Southern,
267.

20

William
Randel,
“Delius
in
America.”
The
Virginia
Magazine
of
History
and
Biography,
Vol.
79,
No.

3
(Jul.,
1971):
447.

21

Fenby,
169.

22

Payne,
13.

23

Clare
Delius,
Frederick
Delius:
Memories
of
My
Brother.
London:
Nicholson
&
Watson,
1935.
52.

9

improvisations
were
such
that
they
“defied
all
rules
of
theory.”
24

Delius’s
wife
Jelka

(an
amateur
musician
and
granddaughter
of
the
Bohemian
composer
Ignaz

Moscheles)
told
Fenby
that
when
she
heard
Frederick
improvise
on
the
piano
he

always
played
chords,
whereas
other
musicians
improvised
on
recognizable

themes.
25

This
manner
of
extemporization
impacted
Delius’s
compositional

methods.
Fenby
relates
that
before
Delius
became
an
invalid
he
always
began

composing
by
sitting
at
the
piano
and
devising
a
progression
of
chords,
playing

around
with
different
chordal
rhythms
and
voicings.
Melody
was
always
an

afterthought,
and
rhythmic
matters
were
wholly
subservient
to
a
sense
of
harmonic

flow.
26

Delius’s
harmonic
palette
is
drawn
from
late
nineteenth
century

romanticism,
yet
his
harmony
has
been
widely
acknowledged
to
have
a
unique
and

idiosyncratic
sound.
As
a
boy
he
liked
Chopin,
and
later
found
inspiration
in
Wagner

and
Grieg.
There
are
obvious
characteristics
of
all
three
composer’s
music
imbued
in

Delius’s
sound
world,
from
omnipresent
chromaticism
to
vague
cadences
to
endless

melody/harmony.
There
are
hints
of
his
mature
harmonic
sound
in
his
earliest

works,
and
they
are
perhaps
most
apparent
in
his
first
extended
work
Florida
Suite.

In
this
suite
for
symphony
orchestra
there
are
frequent
repetitions
of
pairs
of

chords,
or
progressions
in
which
one
chord
proceeds
to
another,
followed
by
a

return
to
the
initial
chord.
Already
there
are
occasional
sliding
harmonies
and

chords
with
an
added
sixth
(later
to
become
a
frequent
occurrence
in
Delius’s

music).
The
majority
of
the
work
is
leisurely
paced,
and
there
are
cadences
here
and

there
that
lack
formal
clarity.
The
influential
English
writer
Christopher
Palmer
was

one
of
the
first
non-‐contemporaries
of
Delius
to
observe
that
the
Florida
Suite
was

influenced
by
African-‐American
music,
and
credits
this
influence
for
the
unique

24

William
Randel,
“Delius
in
America.”
The
Virginia
Magazine
of
History
and
Biography,
Vol.
79,
No.

3

(Jul.,
1971),
360.
Delius’s
host
during
his
stay
in
Danville
was
a
local
music
professor
named
Robert

Phifer,
and
his
wife
Isabelle
was
the
relayer
of
the
anecdote.

25

Fenby,
205.

26

Ibid.,
235.

10

sound
of
the
work.
27

Vic
Hobson
says
that
the
Florida
Suite,
the
opera
Treemonisha

(1910)
by
Scott
Joplin,
and
the
Memphis
Blues
(1912)
by
W.
C.
Handy
all
contain

music
that
points
to
black
quartet
harmony
of
the
time,
noting
that
Joplin
and
Handy

sang
in
quartets
as
boys.
28

There
have
been
sporadic
writings
that
have
noted
the

influence
of
African-‐American
music
in
other
works
of
Delius,
but
they
generally

lack
in
detailed
analysis.
The
single
large-‐scale
exception
to
this
is
Derek
Healey’s

book
The
Influence
of
African-‐American
Music
on
the
Works
of
Frederick
Delius

(2003).

This
work
is
an
important
study,
but
places
primary
emphasis
on
African-‐
American
rhythmic
and
melodic
influences.
Healey
acknowledges
the
influence
of

African-‐American
harmony
and
discusses
in
some
detail
African-‐American

pentatonicism,
but
there
is
relatively
little
discussion
or
analysis
regarding
specific

instances
of
this
influence
in
Delius’s
works.
It
could
well
be
that
Healey
ran
up

against
a
problem
familiar
to
those
who
have
tried
to
understand
African-‐American

harmonizing
in
the
late
nineteenth
century,
namely,
the
lack
of
transcriptions
that

accurately
reflect
the
harmonies
blacks
improvised
as
they
sang.

While
there
is
not
much
analysis
of
African-‐American
influence
in
the
music

of
Delius,
there
are
plenty
of
writings
that
acknowledge
the
unique
sound
of
his

music.
There
is
general
agreement
that
he
was
in
full
command
of
his
musical
syntax

by
the
time
his
most
celebrated
works
appeared.
Heseltine
made
the
observation

that
while
Delius
absorbed
characteristics
of
Grieg
and
Wagner’s
music
into
his
own,

he
was
never
swallowed
up
by
them,
and
developed
a
wholly
individual
sound.
29

Payne,
in
writing
about
the
orchestral
work
Brigg
Fair,
stated:

Brigg
Fair
brings
with
it
complete
stylistic
maturity:
Grieg
and
Wagner
have

disappeared,
and
in
the
introduction
we
have
the
outcome
of
the
nature

music
first
seen
in
some
parts
of
Appalachia:
Delius’s
own
fully
developed

brand
of
impressionism.

This
technique
sounds
completely
unlike
anything

27

Christopher
Palmer,
Delius:
Portrait
of
a
Cosmopolitan.
London:
Gerald
Duckworth
&
Co.,
7.

28

Vic
Hobson.
“Plantation
Song:
Delius,
Barbershop,
and
the
Blues.”
American
Music,
Vol.
31,
No.
3

(Fall
2013):
331.

29

Heseltine,
Frederick
Delius,138

11

in
Debussy,
for
his
conceptions,
by
this
time,
had
become
too
personal
to

allow
of
any
expression
that
recalls
other
composers;
yet,
I
think
Debussy

must
take
much
of
the
credit
for
releasing
this
particular
vein.
30

Payne’s
link
to
Debussy
is
most
revealing.
The
observation
begs
consideration
of

Delius
both
as
a
harmonist
and
as
an
impressionist.
On
the
latter,
there
are
those

who
would
disagree
with
Payne,
noting
that
Delius’s
music
tends
toward
portraying

emotion,
rather
than
creating
a
vignette
of
an
extra-‐musical
event
or
scene.

A

summation
of
this
viewpoint
can
be
seen
in
comments
Philip
Heseltine
made
when

he
writes
concerning
Delius’s
orchestral
poem
Paris:

For Delius, Paris is not merely a city of France, whose collective life is something
to be studied objectively, from a place apart, much as the entomologist studies an
ant's nest; it is rather a corner of his soul. All the riotous gaiety and all the wonder
and passion of these Parisian nights have been felt by the composer even more
intensely than by the throng that surrounds him. In him alone are all these
impressions stamped vividly and definitely enough to become articulate. The
artist who would interpret the atmosphere, the spirit of any place or people, must
necessarily attune himself to such a pitch of sensitiveness to his surroundings that
these become an integral part of himself no less than he a part of them. Thus it is
not in mere externals that the artist seeks his inspiration, but rather within himself,
where all these fleeting things are reflected, and their essential qualities
transmuted by his genius into the material of lasting beauty.
31

Heseltine’s
observation
aligns
with
Delius’s
oft-‐stated
remark
that
the
most

important
aim
for
him
was
to
evoke
emotion,
something
acknowledged
even
by

Payne.
32

It
follows
that
for
Delius
the
process
cannot
be
confused
with
the
aim,
or

goal.
Delius
often
invoked
imagery
when
composing,
especially
when
conceiving

musical
gesture.
Fenby’s
account
of
how
Delius
conceived
certain
details
in
the

choral-‐orchestral
work
Songs
of
Farewell
is
enlightening
in
this
regard.
For
instance,

successive
notes
on
C ♯
C ♮
C ♯
C ♮
were
intended
“to
suggest
the
rolling
of
the
sea”

30

Anthony
Payne,
“Delius’s
stylistic
development.”
Tempo
9
(Winter
1961):
12.

31

Philip
Heseltine,
Some
Notes
on
Delius
and
His
Music.

The
Musical
Times
56,
(Jan
1,
1915):
139.

32

Payne,
12.

12

while
the
whitecaps
of
waves
were
illustrated
with
“tiny
interjections
by
the
flute.”
33

Fenby
also
relates
an
anecdote
in
which
Delius,
before
beginning
to
dictate
a

passage
for
A
Song
of
Summer,
painted
a
picture
for
the
young
assistant,
“I
want
you

to
imagine
that
we
are
sitting
on
the
cliffs
in
the
heather
looking
out
over
the
sea.

The
sustained
chords
in
the
high
strings
suggest
the
clear
sky,
and
the
stillness
and

calmness
of
the
scene…”
34

These
are
the
‘externals’
that
Heseltine
refers
to;
in
all

probability
aids
to
creating
some
sort
of
cogent
form,
or
a
sense
of
tension
and

release,
in
a
formal
structure
that
likely
made
perfect
sense
to
Delius
alone.
Poetic

texts
also
served
this
function.
Delius
remarked
to
Fenby
“I
am
at
my
best
with

words,”
yet
Fenby
observed
that
Delius
always
wanted
to
hear
more
‘orchester’
and

less
of
the
chorus
when
he
heard
his
own
choral-‐orchestral
works.

35

This
apparent

contradiction
only
makes
sense
if
one
considers
that
Delius
viewed
poetic
texts
as
a

suggestive
apparatus,
and
not
as
the
primary
vehicle
for
expressing
emotion.

Heseltine’s
comments
regarding
the
feelings
and
inspiration
Paris
provoked

in
Delius
could
just
as
well
have
been
made
about
Delius’s
experiences
in
Florida.

Thus
we
return
to
Delius’s
comment
made
to
Fenby,
“In
Florida,
through
sitting
and

gazing
at
Nature,
I
gradually
learnt
the
way
in
which
I
should
eventually
find

myself…”
For
the
young
musician
in
America
contemplating
his
future
course
in

music,
nature
included
the
broad
expanse
of
the
St.
John’s
River,
the
vivid
sunsets,

and
the
sounds
of
the
forest.
Later
Delius
combined
these
memories
of
the
orange

grove
with
recollections
of
African-‐American
singing
to
create
a
musical
palette

from
which
he
could
draw
upon
at
will.
Delius
was
thus
able
to
recreate
a
very

personal
sound
world
tinged
with
nostalgia
and
warmth,
devoid
of
links
to

nationality
or
schools
of
composition.
In
the
next
chapters
African-‐American

33

Fenby,
148-‐151.

34

Ibid.,
132.
These
and
other
details
of
Delius’s
working
methods
can
be
found
in
Part
Two
of
Fenby’s

book,
entitled
‘How
He
Worked,’
pp.
131-‐157.
This
chapter
is
the
most
thorough
account
of
how

Delius
composed
in
all
of
the
Delian
literature.

35

Ibid.,
145,
Fenby
additionally
noted
that
Delius
was
prone
to
setting
words
with
little
consideration

for
proper
textual
stress.

13

harmonizing
will
be
discussed,
and
the
possibility
of
its
influence
on
Delius’s
sound

world
will
be
explored.

14

Chapter
1

Frederick
Delius
in
America:
1884-‐1885

Frederick
Delius’s
stay
in
Florida,
which
began
in
the
spring
of
1884
when
he

was
22,
followed
several
years
of
tension
with
his
father
Julius
Delius.
To
the

chagrin
of
the
father,
the
son
favored
musical
pursuits
and
hedonistic
pleasures
over

furthering
the
family’s
business
interests
in
the
wool
trade.
Delius
had
taken
private

piano
and
violin
lessons
from
an
early
age,
encouraged
by
his
father.

These
lessons

were
part
of
grooming
the
young
boy
for
social
interaction
in
the
prosperous

merchant
class
of
time.
In
keeping
with
this,
the
elder
Delius
fostered
an

atmosphere
of
leisurely
entertainment
for
guests
at
the
family
home
in
Bradford,

Yorkshire.

Consequently,
young
Fritz
was
witness
to
a
parade
of
prominent
visitors,

including
the
violinist
Joseph
Joachim.
1

Occasionally
he
would
even
perform
on
the

violin
with
some
of
these
visitors.
The
musical
activity
served
to
stir
Delius’s

interest
in
music
not
just
as
a
leisurely
pursuit,
but
also
as
a
potential
career.

This

ran
counter
to
his
father’s
aspirations
for
him,
and
the
conflict
did
not
reach
a

resolution
until
Delius’s
return
to
Europe
after
his
first
and
longest
stay
in
America.

A
primary
source
for
information
about
Delius’s
childhood
is
a
biography

written
by
his
sister
Clare.

She
writes
in
some
detail
of
the
musical
activity
in
the

house,
and
recounts
that
as
a
young
boy
he
put
on
a
minstrel
show
for
his
friends.
2

Delius
was
perhaps
inspired
to
undertake
the
show
after
seeing
travelling
minstrel

acts
come
through
Bradford.
3

These
variety
show
acts
by
black
entertainer
troupes

had
become
popular
in
England
after
several
decades
of
existence
in
the
United

States,
and
were
perhaps
Delius’s
first
exposure
to
African-‐American
music.
The

1

Tasmin
Little,
“Delius
and
his
Violin
Concerto:
A
Performer’s
Viewpoint.”
The
Delius
Society
Journal

No.
91
(Autumn
1986):
22.
Delius’s
baptismal
name
was
Fritz,
and
this
is
what
his
family
called
him.

He
did
not
change
his
name
to
Frederick
until
he
was
40
years
old.

2

Delius,
45.

3

Philip
Jones,
“Delius
and
America:
A
New
Perspective.”
The
Musical
Times,
Vol.
125,
No.
1702

(Dec.,

1984):
702.
The
Christy
Minstrels
performed
frequently
in
Bradford
in
the
1860’s
and
70’s.

15

shows
given
by
the
troupes
were
usually
substantial
affairs,
lasting
for
well
over
an

hour.

The
troupes
varied
in
size,
but
usually
consisted
of
versatile
instrumentalists

who
played
guitars,
banjos,
and
mandolins,
as
well
as
singers
who
could
sing

ballads,
comic
songs,
spirituals,
and
light
operatic
airs.
4

Some
of
the
larger
troupes

would
feature
big
bands,
consisting
of
clarinets,
saxophones,
and
brass
instruments,

along
with
some
percussion.
The
first
international
African-‐American
star

performers
came
from
the
minstrelsy
tradition,
including
Ma
Rainey,
one
of
the
first

professional
blues
singers,
and
James
Bland,
composer
of
the
state
song
of
Virginia,

Carry
Me
Back
to
Old
Virginny.
5

Delius
never
mentioned
seeing
these
minstrel

shows,
nor
did
he
mention
seeing
the
Fisk
Jubilee
Singers
when
they
performed
in

Bradford.
6

Yet
it
is
reasonable
to
speculate
that
he
might
have
had
some
exposure
to

African-‐American
music
as
a
youth
in
Bradford,
largely
on
account
of
the
visits
of

these
ensembles.

The
culmination
of
tension
between
Delius
and
his
father
resulted
in
an

extended
stay
in
Solana
Grove,
near
Jacksonville,
Florida.
Julius
Delius,
in
a
last-‐ditch

effort
to
sway
his
demoralized
son,
charged
him
with
overseeing
the
operations
of

an
orange
grove
on
the
banks
of
the
St.
John’s
River,
about
thirty-‐five
miles

southeast
of
Jacksonville.
Frederick
brought
his
violin,
and
at
some
point
early
in
his

stay
met
Thomas
Ward,
an
organist
who
had
come
to
Jacksonville
from
Brooklyn,

New
York.
7

Ward
helped
Delius
acquire
a
piano
and
gave
him
lessons
in

counterpoint,
presumably
at
Delius’s
cottage
on
the
St.
John’s
River.
8

There
are
no

4

Southern,
236.

5

Ibid.,
238.

6

Jones,
701.

Philip
Jones
mentions
that
the
Fisk
Jubilee
Singers
performed
in
Bradford
several
times

between
the
years
1873-‐1878.
The
Singers
were
one
of
the
first
African-‐American
touring
groups
to

break
free
of
the
minstrelsy
performance
tradition.

7

Ward
suffered
from
consumption,
and
Jacksonville
was
a
popular
destination
at
the
time
for
those

who
had
tuberculosis.

8

Fenby,
168.
Delius
later
said
that
Ward’s
lessons
were
the
most
valuable
instruction
he
had

received,
surpassing
in
usefulness
even
the
harmony
and
counterpoint
classes
he
took
at
the
Leipzig

Conservatory.

16

other
accounts
of
Delius
interacting
with
anyone
else
in
the
immediate
area
except

for
the
workers
at
the
grove.
The
foreman
at
the
grove
was
Albert
Anderson,
who

lived
with
his
wife
Eliza
and
sister-‐in-‐law
Julia
in
the
pine
forest
nearby.
9

Both

Anderson
and
his
wife
performed
music
at
the
request
of
Delius.
Albert,
who
was
a

banjo
and
harmonica
player,
performed
mostly
secular
music,
while
his
wife
sang

spirituals
a
cappella.
Apparently
Delius
was
most
interested
in
hearing
Albert,
which

is
perhaps
not
surprising
given
his
life-‐long
aversion
to
religion.
10

In
addition
to
his

own
workers
Delius
heard
music
from
the
neighboring
groves
and
plantations.

During
the
day
black
workers
in
the
South
sang
field
hollers
and
other
work
songs,

and
in
the
evening
there
was
recreational
music
and
dancing,
often
accompanied
by

banjo
and
fiddle.
11

Delius
most
likely
heard
this
music,
and
he
perhaps
also
heard

riverboat
work
songs
from
steamboats
on
the
St.
John’s
River,
which
was
an

important
waterway
for
commercial
riverboats
and
passenger
ferries,
as
well
as

Florida’s
first
major
tourist
attraction.
He
might
also
have
heard
music
performed

by
black
musicians
for
the
entertainment
of
guests
on
the
leisure
boats.
As

Reconstruction
passed
into
the
Gilded
Age
leisure
trips
on
steamboats
became

popular,
and
the
entertainment
on
the
boats
resembled
the
shows
put
on
by

African-‐Americans
in
the
larger
urban
hotels
of
the
South.

Delius’s
time
in
Florida
occurred
roughly
in
the
middle
of
a
period
of
African-‐
American
music
that
began
at
the
start
of
Reconstruction
and
ended
sometime
in

the
first
decade
of
the
twentieth
century.
The
conclusion
of
this
period
roughly

coincides
with
the
advent
of
recorded
music
and
the
ensuing
explosion
in

commercial
music.

The
continued
prevalence
of
minstrelsy
and
the
emergence
of

professional
black
musicians,
college
jubilee
choirs,
and
ragtime
characterize
this

period.
While
Delius
may
have
on
occasion
heard
professional
African-‐American

musicians
perform,
there
is
no
doubt
that
what
he
primarily
heard
was
vocal
folk

9

John
White,
“Delius
in
America.”
The
Delius
Society
Journal
No.
141
(Spring
2007):
26.

10

Derek
Healey,
The
Influence
of
African-‐American
Music
on
the
Works
of
Frederick
Delius.

Philadelphia:
Delius
Society,
Philadelphia
Branch,
2003,
1.

11

Southern,
167.

17

music.
Much
of
this
music
is
characterized
by
use
of
limited
note-‐sets,
largely
a

result
of
the
frequent
use
of
pentatonicism.
Performers
of
these
folk
melodies

improvised
vocal
ornaments
and
used
different
vocal
timbres,
in
keeping
with
the

mood
of
the
songs.
These
characteristics
evolved
and
eventually
made
their
way

into
the
early
blues
of
the
twentieth
century.
Derek
Healey
convincingly
shows
that

both
the
performance
practice
of
these
melodies
and
their
structure
are
markedly

different
from
the
melodic
characteristics
of
Western
European
music.
12

Pentatonicism
is
an
important
element
of
African-‐American
music
of
the
late

nineteenth
century,
regardless
of
genre.
Walter
Goldstein,
in
a
paper
that
he

delivered
to
the
1917
conference
of
the
Music
Teachers
National
Association,

described
the
singing
of
pentatonic
melodies
at
a
church
service
he
heard
in
the

south:

I
was
struck
with
some
of
the
same
amazement
expressed
by
this
observer,

at
a
strange
performance
I
heard
at
the
Gretna
colored
Baptist
church
two

Sundays
ago,
where
I
attended
a
biweekly
sacrament
service.
For
an
hour

and
ten
minutes
the
preacher
chanted
an
incoherent
biblical
narrative,

accompanied
incessantly
by
the
responses
of
the
congregation
in
pentatonic

wailings
in
unison
and
in
harmony,
and
a
constant
beating
of
time
with
the

feet.
13

Black
singers
of
the
time
made
use
of
the
common
Anglo-‐Saxon
pentatonic
scale,
but

in
addition
a
variant
of
this
scale
is
found
in
some
African-‐American
tunes,
which

consists
of
scale
degree
one,
flat
third,
scale
degrees
four
and
five,
and
a
flat
seventh.

The
Anglo-‐Saxon
pentatonic
scale
can
be
super-‐imposed
on
the
major
scale,
while

the
‘African-‐American’
scale
can
be
super-‐imposed
on
the
natural
minor
scale.
An

example
of
a
common
African-‐American
tune
based
on
the
‘major’
pentatonic
scale

12

Healey,
30.

13

Walter
Goldstein,
1918,
The
Natural
Harmonic
and
Rhythmic
Sense
of
the
Negro.
In
Studies
in

Musical
Education:
History
and
Aesthetics.
Papers
and
Proceedings
of
the
Music
Teachers
National

Association
(MTNA)
at
its
39
th

Annual
Meeting,
New
Orleans,
December
27-‐29,
1917.
Hartford,
CT:

MTNA,
32.

18

is
‘Swing
low,
sweet
chariot.’

An
example
of
a
tune
based
on
the
‘minor’
pentatonic

scale
is
‘Poor
mourner
got
a
home
at
last’
(Example
1).

Example
1.1

Melody
line,
‘Poor
Mourner
Got
a
Home
at
Last.’

There
were
also
songs
that
were
only
partially
in
the
pentatonic
mode,
but

because
they
contain
leading
tones
at
one
or
two
cadences,
or
exhibit
other

deviations,
cannot
strictly
be
classified
as
such.

This
is
demonstrated
by
a
chart

Derek
Healey
devised,
based
on
a
chart
by
Henry
Edward
Krehbiel
(1854-‐1923),

who
was
a
prominent
musicologist
and
critic
in
New
York
City
at
the
turn
of
the

century.
14

In
the
original
chart
Krehbiel
sought
to
classify
African-‐American
songs

according
to
mode,
and
he
drew
these
songs
from
five
late
nineteenth
and
early

twentieth
century
sources
(see
Appendix
A).

Out
of
a
total
of
527
songs,
Krehbiel

classified
111
as
pentatonic.

Additionally,
there
were
songs
in
three
modes
that

Krehbiel
classified
as
1)
major
without
seventh,
2)
major
without
fourth,
and
3)

minor
without
sixth.

Healey
notes
that
these
hexatonic
scales
could
indeed
be

thought
of
as
half-‐pentatonic,
since
in
each
case
one
of
the
leading
tones
of
the
major

or
minor
scale
is
omitted.

The
number
of
songs
that
belongs
to
one
of
these
three

categories
is
157.

It
follows,
then,
that
nearly
half
the
songs
found
in
Krehbiel’s

sources
can
be
considered
as
some
form
of
pentatonic.

Delius
wrote
about
the
delight
he
took
in
sitting
on
the
verandah
in
the

evening
and
listening
to
African-‐American
singing
drift
through
the
air.
It
was

different
from
anything
he
had
heard
growing
up
in
England.

Delius’s
recollection

14

Healey,
5.

&
b
b
b
b
4
4
V oice
. ˙ œ
œ
œ
3
Mm
w
.
˙ œ
œ
œ
3
Mm
J
œ . œ
œ
œ
œ œ
3
oh my Lawd!
. ˙ œ
œ
œ
3
Mm
&
b
b
b
b
. ˙
œ
poor
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
mour ner's got a home at
˙
œ
œ
last! Oh! -
Refrain - Pour mourner got a home at last
[Composer]

19

comes
from
a
forward
he
wrote
in
1928
for
the
book
Der
Weisse
Neger,
the
German

edition
of
James
Weldon
Johnson’s
book
The
Autobiography
of
an
Ex-‐Colored
Man.
15

I
would
sit
out
on
my
verandah
in
the
darkness
of
evening,
and
would
hear

from
afar
the
singing
of
the
Negroes.
It
seemed
to
harmonize
wonderfully

with
the
glorious
natural
surroundings.
Before
me
stretched
the
immense

breadth
of
the
St.
Johns
River
and
around
me
the
primæval
forest
with
its

indescribably
strange stirrings of buzzing insects, of frogs and nocturnal birds.

Although I had grown up with classical music, a whole new world now opened
up to me. I felt this Negro music to be something utterly new. It was natural
and at the same time deeply felt. For me the Negroes were far more musical
than any other people I had until then encountered. Their music emerged as
unaffected and instinctive, the expression of the soul of a people that had
undergone much suffering. It was almost always sorrowful, almost always
religious, and yet always imbued with personal experience and human
warmth.
16

Delius’s
forward
to
Der
Weisse
Neger
is
significant
for
its
description
of
a
deeply

engaging
type
of
music
and
performance,
as
well
as
the
influence
of
its
exotic
sound

upon
him.
It
is
also
noteworthy
because
it
establishes
a
connection
to
James
Weldon

Johnson,
a
young
boy
who
lived
in
Jacksonville
at
the
time
of
Delius’s
stay
in
Florida,

and
who
would
later
become
an
important
figure
of
the
Harlem
Renaissance.
17

Though
there
is
no
evidence
the
two
ever
met,
Johnson’s
essays
and
recollections

about
the
music
he
heard
African-‐Americans
perform
–
particularly
in
Jacksonville
–

are
relevant
in
attempting
to
understand
what
Delius
might
have
heard.

15

Donald
C.
Goellnicht,
“Passing
As
Autobiography:
James
Weldon
Johnson’s
The
Autobiography
of
an

Ex-‐Colored
Man.”
African
American
Review,
Vol.
30,
No.
1
(Spring,
1996):
17.
This
work
has
been

found
not
to
be
an
autobiography,
but
rather
a
‘fictional
autobiography.’

Originally
published

anonymously
in
1912,
it
was
re-‐issued
by
Alfred
A.
Knopf
in
1927.

The
main
character
in
the
book
is

based
on
a
friend
of
Johnson’s.
The
German
edition,
for
which
Delius
provided
the
forward,
is
dated

April
20,
1928.

16

Jeff
Diggers,
“Zu
Johnson’s
Buch:
A
Forgotten
Literary
Piece
by
Frederick
Delius.”
The
Delius
Society

Journal,
No.
126
(Autumn
1999):
26.

17

Johnson’s
most
famous
composition
is
the
African-‐American
national
anthem
Lift
Ev’ry
Voice
and

Sing.

20

When
Delius
arrived
in
Solana
Grove
in
the
spring
of
1884,
he
would
have

had
the
opportunity
to
hear
African-‐American
musicians
sing
several
kinds
of
music,

both
at
the
plantation
and
during
his
visits
to
Jacksonville.
One
such
type
of
music

was
the
spiritual,
performed
both
in
churches
and
by
emerging
groups
of
jubilee

singers
at
black
colleges.
The
music
in
the
churches
was
probably
very
close
to
what

Johnson
described
in
The
Autobiography
of
an
Ex-‐Colored
Man.
He
wrote
in
some

detail
about
how
hymns
and
spiritual
songs
were
performed
by
the
leader
and

congregation:

Committing
to
memory
the
leading
lines
of
all
the
Negro
spiritual
songs
is
no

easy
task,
for
they
run
up
into
the
hundreds.
But
the
accomplished
leader

must
know
them
all,
because
the
congregation
sings
only
the
refrains
and

repeats;
every
ear
in
the
church
is
fixed
upon
him.
And
if
he
becomes
mixed

in
his
lines
or
forgets
them,
the
responsibility
falls
directly
on
his
shoulders.

For
example,
most
of
the
these
hymns
are
constructed
to
be
sung
in
the

following
manner:

Leader-‐

“Swing
low,
sweet
chariot.”

Congregation-‐

“Coming
for
to
carry
me
home.”

Leader-‐

“Swing
low,
sweet
chariot.”

Congregation-‐
“Coming
for
to
carry
me
home.”

Leader-‐

“I
look
over
yonder,
what
do
I
see?”

Congregation-‐

“Coming
for
to
carry
me
home.”

Leader-‐

“Two
little
angels
coming
after
me.”

Congregation-‐

“Coming
for
to
carry
me
home.”

The
solitary
and
plaintive
voice
of
the
leader
is
answered
by
a
sound
like
the

roll
of
the
sea,
producing
a
most
curious
effect.
18

Johnson
also
described
the
singing
of
harmony:

Generally,
the
parts
taken
up
by
the
congregation
are
sung
in
a
three-‐part

harmony,
the
women
singing
the
soprano
and
a
transposed
tenor,
the
men

with
high
voices
singing
the
melody,
and
those
with
low
voices,
a
thundering

bass.
In
a
few
of
these
songs,
however,
the
leading
part
is
sung
in
unison
by

the
whole
congregation,
down
to
the
last
line,
which
is
harmonized.
The

18

James
Weldon
Johnson,
The
Autobiography
of
an
Ex-‐Colored
Man,
Boston:
Sherman,
French,
&
Co.,

1912,
122.

21

effect
of
this
is
intensely
thrilling.
Such
a
hymn
is
“Go
down
Moses.”
It
stirs

the
heart
like
a
trumpet
call.
19

This
is
similar
to
a
description
of
singing
in
harmony
that
Walter
Goldstein
made
in

a
presentation
to
the
Music
Teachers
National
Conference
in
1917:

A
few
weeks
ago
I
was
invited
to
visit
the
Miro
Public
School
for
colored

children,
to
hear
some
part
singing
which
the
supervisor
assured
me
was

entirely
untaught.
The
demonstration
was
interesting
and
I
am
sure
would

have
been
more
so
but
for
the
presence
of
visitors.
The
boys
and
girls
sang

some
of
the
songs
of
their
own
race,
their
jubilees
as
they
call
them,
as
well
as

others
from
the
common
repertoire
of
the
public
schools.
In
each
case
the

song
started
in
unison.
After
a
few
lines
the
older
boys
bassed
the
melody,
at

first
crudely
imitating
the
melody
in
octave,
but
soon
singing
a
real
ground

part.
As
the
performers
warmed
to
their
task,
a
second
was
added
to
the

melody,
mostly
in
thirds
and
sixths,
and
at
times
it
seemed
to
me
the

harmony
was
in
four
real
parts,
well
balanced
and
harmonically
interesting.
I

should
like
to
tell
you
of
other
features
of
the
ensemble,
the
strumming

quality
of
the
ground
bass,
or
of
the
wailing
portamento
that
gave
a
sad
and

serious
color
to
the
sentiment
of
the
words,
for
instance,
but
that
would
be

going
afield.
20

It
is
clear
from
these
descriptions
that
improvised
harmonizing
was
an
essential

part
of
the
performance
of
spirituals
and
other
songs.
Yet
this
type
of
harmonizing,

made
by
untrained
amateurs,
was
not
the
type
of
harmony
one
encountered
when

hearing
the
most
famous
college
jubilee
singers,
such
as
the
Fisk
Jubilee
Singers
or

the
Hampton
Institute
Quartette.
One
of
the
issues
in
determining
with
any
degree

of
accuracy
how
plantation
songs
or
spirituals
were
originally
harmonized
is
that

the
various
university
touring
choirs
and
quartets
of
the
time
generally
sang

versions
of
these
songs
that
followed
the
rules
of
diatonic
harmony.
The

musicologist
Vic
Hobson,
in
discussing
the
activities
of
the
African-‐American
and

prominent
Nashville
musician
John
Wesley
Work
III
(1901-‐1967),
says:

According
to
Work
III,
the
original
Fisk
Jubilee
Singers
were
schooled
in
their

19

Johnson,
123.

20

Goldstein,
30-‐31.

22

singing
by
George
L.
White.
Work
III
claimed
that
White
“decided
on
a
style
of

singing
the
spiritual
which
eliminated
every
element
that
detracted
from
the

pure
emotion
of
the
song.
Harmony
was
diatonic
and
limited
very
largely
to

the
primary
triads
and
the
dominant
seventh.”
21

This
‘diatonicization’
of
spirituals
and
other
songs
extended
to
published
collections

as
well.

Some
publishers
chose
to
notate
these
tunes
without
harmonizations,

because
those
who
transcribed
the
tunes
found
the
original
harmony
too
difficult
to

analyze
and
notate.
22

According
to
Philip
Heseltine,
Thomas
Ward
(Delius’s
music

teacher
in
Florida)
could
not
analyze
the
harmonies
of
these
songs
by
conventional

methods.
Heseltine
additionally
described
the
harmony
as
“not
that
of
the
hymn-‐
book
-‐
with
which
such
negro
melodies
as
have
been
published
are
almost

invariably
associated
-‐
but
something
far
more
rich
and
strange
which
aroused
the

enthusiasm
of
Delius.”
23

An
important
(and
until
recently
largely
unknown)
source
of
African-‐
American
harmonizing
was
in
the
singing
of
male
quartets,
which
were
fixtures
in

Jacksonville
and
other
urban
centers
of
the
south
in
the
late
nineteenth
century.
The

singers
in
these
ensembles
sang
spirituals,
glees,
worker
songs,
ballads,
comic
songs,

parodies,
and
others.

All
of
these
genres
of
songs
could
be
performed
in
any
number

of
styles
and
arrangements,
but
the
most
pervasive
arrangement
of
all
was
the
male

quartet
singing
in
close
harmony.

This
type
of
harmonizing
was
quite
different

from
the
harmonizing
of
large
groups
in
a
church
setting.
Spirituals
performed
in

church
relied
on
a
leader,
and
alternated
between
unison
singing
and
part-‐singing
in

a
manner
that
was
more
horizontally
conceived.
The
harmony
of
male
quartets
was

21

Hobson,
“Plantation
Song:
Delius,
Barbershop,
and
the
Blues,”
317-‐318.
George
L.
White
was
a

Caucasian
missionary,
and
Fisk
University’s
treasurer
and
music
director.

He
was
the
founder
of
the

Fisk
Jubilee
Singers.

22

Hobson,
“Plantation
Song:
Delius,
Barbershop,
and
the
Blues,”
317.

23

Philip
Heseltine.
Frederick
Delius.
Westport,
CT:
Greenwood
Press,
1974,
42.

23

more
intricate
and
vertically
conceived;
the
primary
musical
interest
was
to
be

found
in
chordal
sonority.

There
were
a
number
of
famous
male
touring
quartets
in
the
latter
half
of
the

century,
including
the
Lew
Male
Quartet
of
New
England,
and
the
Golden
Gate

Quartet
of
Baltimore.
The
Georgia
Minstrels,
run
by
an
African-‐American
named

Charles
Hicks,
began
performing
in
1865,
and
recruited
ex-‐slaves
who
performed

extemporaneously
in
barber
shops
and
other
black
social
gathering
places.
24

However,
the
most
common
quartets
were
made
up
of
local
musicians
who
were

often
not
musically
trained.

These
itinerant
musicians
could
be
found
in
every

African-‐American
community,
often
in
the
local
barbershops.

Eileen
Southern,
in

her
authoritative
history
The
Music
of
Black
Americans,
wrote:

The
barber
and
his
shop
played
an
important
part
in
the
musical
life
of
early

black
rural
and
small-‐town
communities.

Owned
and
operated
by
black
men,

open
from
early
morn
until
late
at
night,
barbershops
provided
congenial

meeting
places
where
the
musically
inclined
could
discourse
on
music
or

practice
in
a
back
room
without
interruption.

It
was
no
accident
that
many
of

the
early
musicians
were
barbers,
some
of
whom
became
famous
–
such
as

Richard
Milburn,
the
guitarist-‐whistler;
Sam
Lucas,
the
minstrel
king;
and

Buddy
Bolden,
the
famous
trumpeter
of
New
Orleans.

Barbers
could
not

leave
their
shops
during
the
day,
yet
there
were
periods
when
no
patrons

came
in
and
time
hung
heavy
on
their
hands.

If
they
had
musical
skills,
there

was
unlimited
time
to
practice
and
develop
those
skills,
and
many
musicians

frequently
received
their
first
lessons
in
the
community
barbershop.
25

Lynn
Abbott,
in
his
pioneering
article
making
the
case
for
the
African-‐American

origin
of
barbershop
quartets,
says
that
male
black
quartet
singing
throughout
the

country
was
pervasive:

24

Ibid.,
37.
This
group
later
became
the
Callender’s
Georgia
minstrels,
the
most
famous
African-‐
American
minstrel
quartet
ever.

25

Southern,
260.

24

Famous
vaudevillian
Billy
McLain
recalled
that
when
he
was
in
Kansas
City

during
the
late
1880s,
“about
every
four
dark
faces
you
met
was
a
quartet.”

His
recollection
was
echoed
by
such
authoritative
spokesmen
as
James

Weldon
Johnson
and
Lawrence
C.
Jones,
founder
of
the
well-‐known
Piney

Woods
School,
who
both
flatly
stated,
in
print,
that
“Any
four
colored
boys

are
a
quartet.”
This
is
frank
testimony
to
the
pervasiveness
of
quartet
singing

during
the
1890s
and
early
1900s.
For
the
male
population,
at
least
,
it
was

nothing
less
than
the
black
national
past
time.
26

Gage
Averill
cites
Abbott
when
he
observed
that,
as
far
as
he
could
tell,
the
earliest

reference
to
“barbershop”
quartet
harmony
was
in
1900,
in
a
review
found
in
the

African-‐American
newspaper
The
Indianapolis
Freeman.
The
reviewer
wrote:

It
doesn’t
take
much
of
an
effort
of
memory
to
recall
the
time
when
all

quartettes
sang
their
own
self-‐made
harmonies.
With
their
oft-‐recurring

‘minors,’
diminished
sevenths
and
other
embellishments,
this
barber
shop

harmony,
although
pleasing
to
the
average
ear,
and
not
altogether

displeasing
to
the
cultivated
ear,
is
nothing
more
or
less
than
a
musical

slang.
27

Averill
continued
by
saying
that
the
earliest
reference
to
white
barbershop
quartet

singing
did
not
occur
until
1910,
when
the
vaudeville
hit
Play
That
Barbershop

Chord
became
popular.
28

Jacksonville,
as
one
of
the
leading
commercial
and
industrial
cities
in
the

south
at
the
end
of
the
nineteenth
century,
was
a
center
of
quartet
singing.
In
the

1880
U.
S.
census
Jacksonville
officially
replaced
Pensacola
as
Florida’s
largest
city,

with
a
reported
population
of
7,650.
In
the
following
decade
Jacksonville
would

become
the
state’s
primary
resort
destination.
29

Sigmund
Spaeth
(1885-‐1965),
in

the
second
edition
of
his
book
Barbershop
Ballads
and
How
To
Sing
Them,
said:

26

Abbott,
290.

27

Ibid.,
308.

28

Averill,
39.

29

Peter
Smith,
2006,
Ashley
Street
Blues:
Racial
Uplift
and
the
Commodification
of
Vernacular

Performance
in
LaVilla,
FL.
PhD
dissertation,
Florida
State
University.
Ann
Arbor:
ProQuest/UMI

(Publication
No.
AAT
3216542.):
20-‐21.
Mr.
Smith
states
that
in
the
winter
season
of
1884-‐85
–

coinciding
with
the
time
of
Delius’s
stay
in
Solana
Grove
–
Jacksonville
received
over
60,000
visitors.

25

Why
such
impromptu
singing
should
be
associated
with
the
barbershop
is

still
a
mystery
to
many
people,
even
though
they
may
recognize
the
type
of

harmony
thus
described,
and
particularly
the
“barber
shop
chords”
which

consistently
appear
at
the
close,
when
the
lead
usually
holds
the
final
note

while
the
other
voices
move
around
it.
Whether
this
type
of
harmonizing

actually
originated
in
barbershops
is
open
to
question.
But
this
much
is

certain,
that
many
of
the
southern
barbers
were
and
still
are
Negroes,
and
it

is
only
natural
that
they
should
have
formed
quartets
and
sung
together
in

their
leisure
time.
Jacksonville,
Florida,
definitely
claims
the
honor
of
having

sponsored
the
first
barbershop
quartets,
and
possibly
the
claim
is
justified.
30

Spaeth
offered
a
little
more
clarity
in
his
book
They
Still
Sing
of
Love
(1929),
saying:

A
better
explanation
comes
from
Jacksonville,
Florida,
where
the
barber-‐
shops
were
all
originally
manned
by
colored
barbers,
with
each
shop

naturally
developing
its
own
quartet.
These
negro
singers
harmonized
by

ear,
and
they
took
more
delight
in
the
discovery
of
a
new
chord
than
a
whole

day’s
tips
could
produce.
It
was
through
experimentation
and
the
tentative

expression
of
common
instincts
that
the
modern
art
was
developed.
31

If
Jacksonville
was
not
the
birthplace
of
African-‐American
quartet

harmonizing,
it
was
at
least
an
important
center.
Many
of
the
hotels
in
Jacksonville

featured
resident
black
male
quartets
as
part
of
their
entertainment.
Peter
Smith

describes
Jacksonville
in
the
decades
between
1880
and
1910
as
a
hub
of
African-‐
American
musical
and
theatrical
activity,
and
specifically
documents
the

performance
history
in
LaVilla,
a
large
African-‐American
neighborhood.
In
1887

Jacksonville
annexed
several
suburbs,
including
LaVilla,
the
most
important
center

for
black
music
and
theater
in
Jacksonville.

James
Weldon
Johnson
(who
grew
up
in

LaVilla)
and
his
brother
both
sang
in
quartets
as
young
boys,
and
Johnson
wrote

30

Sigmund
Spaeth,
Barbershop
Ballads
and
How
To
Sing
Them.
2
nd

ed.
New
York:
Prentice
Hall,
1940,

1.
Spaeth
did
not
mention
a
possible
African-‐American
origin
for
barbershop
singing
in
the
original

1925
edition
of
the
book.
By
that
time
barbershop
singing
was
a
white
male
endeavor,
as
evoked
in

the
famous
image
of
barbershop
singing
by
Norman
Rockwell
in
1936.

31

Abbott,
294.

26

that
all
the
Florida
resort
hotels
had
at
least
two
resident
African-‐American
male

quartets.
32

Barbara
Webb
expounds
upon
the
important
place
of
quartet
singing
in
the

musical
life
of
both
rural
and
city-‐dwelling
African-‐Americans
in
her
examination
of

two
plantation
shows
from
the
1890s.

The
shows,
South
Before
the
War
(c.
1892)

and
Black
America
(c.
1895),
were
typical
of
theatrical
entertainment
of
the
time

featuring
black
performers,
as
they
created
pastoral
scenes
of
plantation
life,
purged

of
any
overt
depiction
of
hardship
and
suffering.
In
their
efforts
to
lend
an
air
of

authenticity,
musical
numbers
were
included
in
the
shows,
and
these
selections

required
a
casting
of
three
to
four
male
quartets.
33

Webb
says
that
members
of
the

audiences
most
likely
recognized
the
professional
quartets
as
representative
of
the

kinds
of
quartet
music
they
would
have
heard
in
various
social
gathering
places

such
as
living
rooms
and
barbershops.
She
further
states,
“Perhaps
some
would

have
also
recognized
the
historical
roots
of
the
form
and
even
viewed
quartet

singing
as
appropriate
to
the
show’s
antebellum
setting.”
34

Another
example
of
a

male
quartet
used
in
a
dramatic
work
to
depict
rural
life
is
the
song
“We
Will
Rest

Awhile”
in
the
opera
Treemonisha
by
Scott
Joplin.
This
number
is
sung
in
close

harmony
by
actors
portraying
black
field
workers,
and
exhibits
many
of
the

harmonic
characteristics
of
the
time,
including
chromatic
voice
leading
and
typical

barbershop
chord
progressions.
Edward
Berlin
states
that
the
song
gives

Treemonisha
validity
as
confirmation
of
“black,
rural
musical
practices
of
the
1870s-‐

32

James
Weldon
Johnson,
In
the
preface
to
The
Book
of
American
Negro
Spirituals.
New
York:
Viking

Press,
1925,
35-‐36.

33

Barbara
Webb,
“Plantation
Performance
of
the
1890’s.”
Theater
Journal,
Vol.
56,
No.
1
(March

2004):
66.

34

Ibid.,
68.

27

1890s.”
35

This
is
especially
pertinent
to
Delius,
who
spent
much
more
time
at
the

orange
grove
than
he
did
in
Jacksonville.
36

The
improvisation
of
harmony
was
an
important
part
of
quartet
singing.
It
is

impossible
to
imagine
what
this
improvised
harmony
really
sounded
like,
because

the
music
the
quartets
sang
was
never
written
down.
Indeed,
any
effort
to
notate

these
harmonies
was
met
with
quick
discouragement,
because
the
harmony
was
so

difficult
to
discern.
James
Weldon
Johnson
wrote
about
the
African-‐American

barbershop
and
its
central
role
in
the
development
of
male
quartets
and
close

harmony.
37

His
discussion
of
the
idle
time
spent
harmonizing
is
particularly
colorful:

In
the
days
when
such
a
thing
as
a
white
barber
was
unknown
in
the
South,

every
barber
shop
had
its
quartet,
and
the
men
spent
their
leisure
time

playing
on
the
guitar
–
not
banjo,
mind
you
–
and
‘harmonizing’.
I
have

witnessed
some
of
these
explorations
in
the
field
of
harmony
and
the
scenes

of
hilarity
and
back-‐slapping
when
a
new
and
peculiarly
rich
chord
was

discovered.
There
would
be
demands
for
repetition,
and
cries
of
“Hold
it!

Hold
it!”
until
firmly
mastered.
And
well
it
was,
for
some
of
the
chords
were

so
new
and
strange
for
voices
that
…
they
would
never
have
been
found
again

except
for
the
celerity
with
which
they
were
recaptured.
38

The
fleshing
out
of
a
chord,
called
‘cracking
the
chord’
was
a
common
occurrence
in

black
close-‐harmony
singing
in
the
latter
half
of
the
nineteenth
century.
39

Lynn

Abbott
says:

35

Edward
Berlin,
King
of
Ragtime:
Scott
Joplin
and
His
Era.
New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
1994,

204.
Berlin
supports
his
claim
by
noting
that
Treemonisha
is
a
loosely
auto-‐biographical
work.

36

When
Delius
made
his
single
specific
remark
about
four-‐part
singing
to
Elgar
he
referenced

hearing
it
from
his
verandah.

37

Johnson
stated
that
the
famed
“barbershop
chord”
was
born
through
the
improvisation
of
close

harmony
in
the
black
barbershops.

38

Diggers,
27.

39

Gage
Averill,
Four
Parts,
No
Waiting:
A
Social
History
of
American
Barbershop
Harmony.
New
York:

Oxford
University
Press,
2003,
45.

28

At
the
heart
of
this
all-‐absorbing
quartet
activity
was
a
spontaneous
and

highly
infectious
approach
to
harmonizing,
or
‘cracking
up
a
chord.’
Ballads

and
sentimental
tunes
were
most
susceptible
to
it,
but
no
song,
religious
or

secular,
traditional
or
Tin
Pan
Alley,
was
immune.
The
basic
idea
was
to

improvise,
linger
on,
and
bask
in
the
immediate
warmth
of
hair-‐raisingly

unusual
close-‐harmony
chords.
40

This
sense
of
harmonizing
through
improvisation
must
have
appealed
to
Delius,

who
delighted
in
improvising
harmony
at
the
keyboard.
By
the
time
Delius
arrived

in
Florida
he
was
an
accomplished
violinist,
but
he
was
never
to
develop
more
than

a
rudimentary
technique
at
the
keyboard.
Delius’s
wife
Jelka
spoke
of
his
keyboard

abilities
to
Eric
Fenby,
and
acknowledged
that
while
he
was
a
bad
pianist,
his

improvisations
were
“as
impressive
as
the
more
florid
outpourings
of
the

accomplished
technician,
and
to
her
ears
it
was
certainly
more
musical.”
41

After
leaving
Florida
Delius
spent
the
equivalent
of
an
academic
year
in

Danville,
Virginia
in
1885-‐1886.

While
there
he
was
an
active
teacher
and

performer.

Once
again
he
was
taken
with
African-‐American
singing,
this
time
in
the

large
tobacco
stemmeries
in
town.
42

Danville
was
a
leading
processor
of
tobacco,

and
the
large
warehouses
could
hold
several
hundred
workers
at
a
time.
The

management
encouraged
singing
by
the
workers,
convinced
that
productivity

increased
when
work
was
accompanied
by
corporate
singing.

There
is
an
account
of

singing
by
black
workers
in
a
tobacco
factory
in
Richmond,
Virginia
that
appeared
in

the
Harper’s
New
Monthly
Magazine
of
September
1874:

We
were
visiting
a
tobacco
factory,
where
we
saw
a
hundred
or
more
men,

women,
and
children
manipulating
tobacco,
apparently
in
constrained
and

gloomy
silence…
The
superintendent
raised
his
finger,
and
there
was
a
quiet

rustle
of
attention
throughout
the
large
hall.
Another
signal,
and
there
was
a

burst
of
music
swelling
so
harmoniously
from
sweetness
to
grandeur
that
the

hearers
thrilled
with
emotion
that
nothing
could
express
but
tears.
The

40

Lynn
Abbott.
“
‘Play
that
Barber
Shop
Chord’:
A
Case
for
the
African-‐American
Origin
of
Barbershop

Harmony.”
American
Music
Vol.
10,
No.
3
(Autumn,
1992):
290.

41

Fenby,
206.

42

Randel,
361.

29

theme
was
changed
from
solemn
to
sentimental,
from
grave
to
gay,
and
the

singing
was
continued
for
half
an
hour
without
palling
or
losing
any
of
its

impressiveness.
We
had
enjoyed
several
years
of
familiarity
with
the
choicest

vocal
and
instrumental
music
of
Europe,
and
have
since
had
opportunities
of

appreciating
the
best
native
and
exotic
talent
our
own
country
affords,
yet

can
sincerely
say
we
have
never
heard
any
thing
more
profoundly
and

exquisitely
emotional
than
the
minstrelsy
of
that
gloomy
Richmond
factory.
43

In
Gage
Averill’s
book
Four
Parts,
No
Waiting:
A
Social
History
of
American

Barbershop
Quartet
there
is
an
anecdote
by
a
Ms.
Frederika
Bremer,
who
said
while

visiting
Virginia
in
1851:
“I
first
heard
the
slaves,
about
a
hundred
in
number,

singing
at
their
work
in
large
rooms;
they
sang
quartettes…
in
such
perfect

harmony,
and
with
such
exquisite
feeling,
that
it
was
difficult
to
believe
them
self-‐
taught.”
44

There
is
at
present
no
known
documentation
of
other
African-‐American

music
that
Delius
heard
while
in
Danville,
although
it
is
unlikely
that
the
music

emanating
from
those
massive
brick
structures
was
the
only
black
music
he

encountered.
In
any
case,
it
is
clear
that
the
music
he
encountered
over
a
longer

time
in
Florida
had
a
greater
impact.
Delius
wrote
several
works
that
came
out
of
his

Florida
experience,
including
the
Florida
Suite
for
orchestra
and
the
opera
Koanga.

There
is
no
music
in
Delius’s
oeuvre
directly
connected
to
his
time
in
Virginia.

Of
the
two
principal
characteristics
of
African-‐American
music
that
appear
to

have
found
their
way
into
Delius’s
music;
in
particular
the
‘American’
vocal
music,

one
is
derived
from
performance
practice,
and
the
other
is
an
inherent

characteristic
of
the
repertoire.
The
performance
practice
element
consists
of
the

improvisation
of
close
harmonies
by
black
quartet
singers
of
the
time.
These
chord

progressions
were
often
unlike
anything
that
could
be
found
in
music
derived
from

standard
European
models
of
harmony.
The
characteristic
derived
from
the
body
of

repertoire
is
the
pentatonicism
of
many
of
the
melodies.
These
two
elements
have

historically
been
tightly
bound
in
quartet
singing.
Vic
Hobson
has
written
that
male

43

Porte
Crayon,
“Our
Negro
Schools.”
Harper’s
New
Monthly
Magazine,
Volume
49,
Issue
292

(September
1874):
462.

44

Averill,
31.

30

quartet
singers,
as
well
as
early
jazz
musicians,
may
have
favored
pentatonic

melodies
for
the
ease
with
which
they
could
be
harmonized.

Melodies
that
contain
the
leading
note
cannot
be
harmonized
using

fundamental
barbershop
cadences.
This
is
because
in
endings
–
where
only

two
or
three
voices
change
their
note
–
either
the
bass
or
the
lead
voice
stays

on
the
tonic.
In
European
harmony,
the
perfect
cadence
functions
by
applying

chromatic
tension
to
the
tonic
as
the
leading
note
(a
semitone
below
the

tonic)
ascends
to
the
tonic;
therefore,
in
barbershop
harmony
a
perfect

cadence
can
only
result
if
all
the
voices
leave
the
tonic.
45

Pentatonic
melodies
can
easily
accommodate
common
features
of
barbershop

harmony,
including
chromatic
voice
leading
–
a
result
of
the
extensive
use
of

borrowed
chords
and
seventh
chords,
thirds
in
parallel
motion,
and
the
prevalence

of
plagal
cadences.
These
features
are
also
prominent
in
Delius’s
music.
In
the
next

three
chapters
examples
will
be
seen
of
the
interplay
between
pentatonic
melody

and
elements
of
barbershop
harmony
in
the
choral
music
of
Delius,
as
well
as
of
the

music
of
African-‐Americans
in
the
twentieth
century
such
as
Duke
Ellington.
While
it

is
impossible
to
determine
the
influence
of
African-‐American
music
on
Delius’s

choral
music
solely
by
guessing
about
what
he
may
have
heard,
conjecture
informed

by
examination
of
the
score
and
comparison
to
other
music
descended
from
quartet

singing
can
lead
to
enlightenment.

45

Vic
Hobson.
“Plantation
Song:
Delius,
Barbershop,
and
the
Blues.”
American
Music,
Vol.
31,
No.
3

(Fall
2013):
328.

31

Chapter
2

Koanga,
Appalachia,
and
Sea
Drift

An
Overview

The
first
substantial
vocal
work
by
Delius
to
exhibit
significant
African-‐
American
influence
was
the
opera
Koanga,
the
first
opera
in
the
western
canon
to
be

based
on
African-‐American
themes.
This
opera
was
the
third
of
Delius’s
operas,
and

was
written
over
ten
years
after
Delius
left
Florida.
In
the
intervening
years
Delius

had
studied
at
the
Leipzig
Conservatory,
had
traveled
throughout
Europe,
and
had

spent
several
years
living
and
composing
in
Paris.
His
music
had
begun
to
be

performed
regularly
in
Germany,
but
had
yet
to
garner
a
wide
audience
in
England.

Shortly
after
the
completion
of
Koanga
in
1897,
Delius
settled
with
his
wife
Jelka
in

Grez-‐sur-‐Loing,
a
small
village
outside
of
Paris,
where
he
resided
for
the
rest
of
his

life.

The
libretto
is
loosely
based
on
The
Grandissimes:
A
Story
of
Creole
Life
by

George
Washington
Cable
(1844-‐1925).

This
novel,
published
in
1880,
depicted

issues
of
class
and
race
in
New
Orleans
and
features
both
white
and
black

characters.
Charles
F.
Keary
(1848-‐1917),
the
librettist
for
the
opera,
kept
some
of

the
basic
ideas
of
the
novel,
but
changed
the
details
of
the
storyline
and
names
of

some
of
the
characters,
including
the
name
of
the
main
character,
which
was

changed
from
Bras
Coupé
to
Koanga.
Peter
Franklin,
in
commenting
on
the
high

Victorian
language
of
the
libretto,
says:

The
opera
could
be
described
as
a
powerful
realization
of
an
extraordinary

scenario,
but
with
a
dreadful
libretto.
Douglas
Craig
and
Andrew
Page
tried

to
rewrite
it
in
1974,
so
painfully
did
the
original
resound
a
vision
of

Africans,
and
particularly
African
slaves,
that
would
have
been
encountered

in
Victorian
drawing
rooms
in
ways
that
now
properly
embarrass
us.
1

1

Peter
Franklin.
Reclaiming
Late
Romantic
Music:
Singing
Devils
and
Distant
Sounds.
Berkeley:

University
of
California
Press,
2014,
46.

32

In
the
opera
the
character
Koanga
is
an
African
voodoo
prince
who
is
captured
and

sent
to
work
as
a
slave
on
a
plantation
in
the
American
South.
He
falls
in
love
with
a

mulatto
maid
on
the
plantation
named
Palmyra
,
but
various
entanglements

between
the
slave
owners
and
the
workers
on
the
plantation
conspire
to
prevent

Palmyra
and
Koanga
from
consummating
their
love.
At
end
of
the
opera
Koanga
is

executed,
and
Palmyra
kills
herself.

Many
of
the
choruses
and
dances
in
Koanga
are
influenced
by
African-‐
American
music,
and
the
choruses
in
particular
offer
valuable
insight
as
to
what

Delius
took
away
from
his
Florida
years.
Outside
of
these
numbers,
the
music
has
a

decidedly
Wagnerian
flow
to
it.
There
are
long
passages
of
arioso
writing,
and

substantial
sections
where
the
chromaticism
is
unrelenting.
Indeed,
the
European

high
art
flavor
of
the
music
for
Koanga
and
Palmyra
can
be
a
bit
disconcerting,
for
it

is
cast
in
the
same
style
as
the
music
sung
by
the
white
slave
owners.
Anthony
Payne

is
surely
describing
this
narrative
music
in
his
claim
that
there
is
a
noticeable

stylistic
advance
in
the
composition
of
Koanga
compared
to
earlier
works.
2

Payne

notes
the
increasing
complexity
and
richness
of
the
harmony
to
support
his
claim,

though
he
also
says
that
Delius
has
not
yet
shed
the
conventionality
of
his
melodic

sequences.
The
music
for
the
dances
and
choruses,
on
the
other
hand,
seem
to
be

reminiscences
of
experiences
in
Florida.
Robert
Threlfall
cites
a
manuscript
entitled

Neger
Lieder
/
Negro
Songs
in
asserting
that
some
of
the
material
in
the
choruses

and
dances
is
based
on
literal
transcriptions
of
songs
Delius
heard
during
his
stay
at

Solana
Grove.
The
notebook,
lost
for
many
years
and
only
rediscovered
in
the
last

decade
of
the
20th
century,
contains
drafts
of
two
songs
for
baritone
soloist
and

male
chorus
with
a
small
orchestral
accompaniment.
In
addition,
there
are

annotations
and
notes
relating
to
other
musical
material,
some
of
which
appears
in

Koanga.
3

In
the
margin
of
one
of
the
manuscript
pages
there
is
a
notation

2

Payne,
7.

3

Robert
Threlfall.
“An
Early
Manuscript
Reappears.”
The
Delius
Society
Journal
No.
130
(Autumn

2001):
19.

33

‘1884/1885’
(the
time
Delius
lived
at
Solana
Grove).
This
is
marked
next
to
musical

material
jotted
down
for
banjos,
material
that
corresponds
with
the
banjo
music
at

the
beginning
of
the
second
act.
Even
though
the
opera
was
completed
over
ten

years
after
Delius
had
left
Florida,
this
marking
confirms
the
opera
as
a
valuable

compendium
of
Delius’s
choral
practices
based
on
the
music
he
heard
in
Solana

Grove.
Threlfall,
commenting
on
the
notebook,
states:

The importance, then, of this resurfaced early manuscript resides in its clear
confirmation of the seed of Delius’s serious compositional activity being planted
in1884-5 at Solana Grove… This thread was to be overlaid in later years by
influences from Scandinavia and from Nietzsche, with a consequent loss of the
singular warmth only found in those early American works.
4

Most
of
the
choral
material
in
the
three-‐act
opera
appears
in
the
first
two

acts.
The
chorus
is
indicated
in
the
score
as
Negro
men
and
women,
and
sings

mostly
work
songs
or
music
accompanying
the
singing
of
the
soloists.
The
first

chorus
is
a
work
song,
sung
by
all
the
slaves
as
they
wake
to
a
day
of
work.
This

appears
at
the
beginning
of
Act
I,
before
the
narrative
is
underway.
The
most
tuneful

part
of
the
chorus
is
a
pentatonic
melody
sung
in
a
fortissimo
unison
by
the
women

and
men,
and
begins
“O
Lawd
I’m
goin’
away
and
I
won’t
be
back
‘til
fall”
(Example

2.1,
soprano
part).
Full
orchestra
accompanies
the
chorus,
and
while
there
are

inflections
of
pentatonicism
the
scoring
exhibits
considerable
chromatic
harmony.

No
one
has
yet
identified
this
tune
as
an
African-‐American
melody,
but
the

pentatonic
contour
strongly
suggests
an
African-‐American
origin.
The
material

preceding
this
tune
is
less
melodic
and
more
harmonically
ambiguous,
but
it
is

nevertheless
noteworthy
for
the
divisi
of
the
choral
parts.
While
the
women
are

divided
into
soprano
and
alto
parts,
the
men
are
divided
into
two
tenor
and
two

bass
parts.
This
choral
scoring
became
a
prominent
feature
of
Delius’s
choral

writing
in
the
‘American’
choral
works,
and
is
perhaps
a
reflection
of
male
quartet

singing.

4

Threlfall,
21.

34

The
reprise
of
the
tune
“O
Lawd
I’m
goin’
away”
is
scored
in
parts,
and
the

dynamic
indication
is
piano,
the
opposite
of
the
original
unison
statement.
Delius’s

intent
was
to
evoke
an
image
of
the
slaves
in
the
fields,
singing
as
they
worked.
As
in

the
outset
of
the
chorus,
the
divisi
is
soprano,
alto,
and
male
quartet.
(Example
2.1)

Example
2.1
Koanga,
Act
I,
‘O
Lawd,
I’m
goin’
away,’
mm.
82-‐95.

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35

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36

The
writing
for
the
tenors
and
basses
in
the
reprise
more
clearly
reflects
a
style
of

singing
associated
with
barbershop
quartets.
There
is
no
part
in
particular
that
is

melodically
arresting;
the
interest
is
in
the
progression
and
ring
of
the
chords.

There
are
multiple
instances
of
chromatic
part-‐writing
and
seventh
chords.
In

particular,
the
presence
of
consecutive
dominant
seventh
chords
is
indicative
of

‘barbershop’
style
as
codified
by
Spaeth
(m.
88).
In
quartet
harmony
these
dominant

seventh
chords
almost
always
appear
as
part
of
a
harmonic
progression
based
on
a

circle
of
fifths
pattern.
Vic
Hobson
states
that
in
barbershop
harmony
dominant

seventh
chords
“...
are
so
fundamental
to
barbershop
singing
that
the
‘barbershop

seventh’
has
been
described
as
the
‘meat
n’
taters
chord.’
“
5

Also
noteworthy
are
the

non-‐resolution
of
several
leading
tones
in
individual
parts,
most
conspicuous
in
the

tenor
II
part
(m.
88).
This
is
another
characteristic
of
barbershop
music,
and
is
also

an
element
of
pentatonic
melody.
(It
is
no
accident
that
many
of
the
most
popular

barbershop
tunes
are
pentatonic.)
Finally,
all
the
pitches
of
these
chords
are

contained
in
the
quartet
texture,
though
they
are
doubled
in
the
soprano
and
alto

parts.
Within
the
quartet
texture
the
harmony
is
complete,
adding
to
the
close

harmony
sound
of
the
male
voices.

The
following
chorus,
“John
say
you
got
to
reap
what
you
sow,”
is
sung
only

by
tenors
and
basses,
and
again
divided
in
four
parts.
This
is
the
first
music
for

TTBB
voices
in
the
opera
that
does
not
appear
in
conjunction
with
the
women
of
the

chorus
or
the
soloists,
and
again
there
are
the
requisite
dominant
seventh
sonorities

(Example
2.2).

5

Vic
Hobson,
“Plantation
Song:
Delius,
Barbershop,
and
the
Blues.”
American
Music,

Vol.
31,
No.
3
(Fall
2013):
323.

37

Example
2.2
Koanga,
Act
I,
‘John
say
you
got
to
reap
what
you
sow,’
mm.
140-‐153.

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38

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39

The
next
chorus,
“D’lilah
was
a
woman
fair,”
is
a
contrast
on
many
levels
to

what
has
appeared
in
the
opera
to
this
point
(Example
2.3).

Palmyra
and
Koanga

have
been
introduced,
and
the
plantation
owner
Don
José
Martinez
convinces

Palmyra
to
use
her
powers
of
seduction
to
persuade
Koanga
to
work.
(Koanga
to

this
point
in
the
opera
has
refused
to
work,
and
threats
of
torture
by
the
foreman

Simon
Perez
have
not
succeeded.)
While
Palmyra,
Koanga,
Martinez,
and
Perez
sing,

the
chorus
recounts
a
biblical
story
about
Samson
and
Delilah.
The
story
is
meant
to

serve
as
commentary
on
the
budding
relationship
between
Koanga
and
Palmyra.

Here
the
chorus
is
divided
into
a
four-‐part
soprano,
alto,
tenor,
and
bass

arrangement.
The
choral
writing
serves
as
accompaniment
to
the
solo
quartet,
and

the
harmonic
texture
is
less
dense.
There
are
several
elements
that
seem
to
suggest

spiritual
singing
in
churches
at
the
time,
as
opposed
to
the
type
of
singing
associated

with
quartets.
One
is
the
lack
of
consecutive
closed
harmony
dominant
seventh

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40

chords.
In
fact,
there
are
few
seventh
chords
to
be
found
in
this
passage.
Another

element
is
the
manner
in
which
the
chorus
begins.
The
tenors
lead
the
chorus
with
a

short
repeated
note
pattern
consisting
of
only
two
different
pitches.
This
pattern
is

echoed
consecutively
at
different
intervals
one
part
at
a
time
until
all
the
parts
have

entered.
At
the
climax
of
the
music
(m.
359),
there
are
open
fourth
and
fifth

intervals
in
parallel
motion.
Perhaps
Delius
was
referencing
a
type
of
improvised

singing
by
black
congregations
of
the
time,
as
alluded
to
by
Walter
Goldstein
in
his

description
of
the
rhythmic
chanting
at
the
Gretna
Baptist
Church.
6

The
texture

Delius
employed
would
certainly
be
fitting,
given
the
biblical
nature
of
the
text
the

workers
are
singing.
In
any
case
the
more
evenly
distributed
SATB
texture,
the

relative
lack
of
close
harmony,
and
the
absence
of
consecutive
dominant
seventh

chords
make
this
music
distinct
from
the
prior
choral
music,
which
is
thick
with

TTBB
close
harmony
sonorities.

6

This
is
discussed
in
the
first
chapter.

41

Example
2.3
Koanga,
Act
I,
‘D’lilah
was
a
woman
fair,’
mm.
345-‐60.

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44

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45

At
the
beginning
of
Act
II
is
an
a
cappella
song
with
a
pentatonic
melody
sung

by
a
chorus
of
workers
behind
the
curtain,
‘Now
once
in
a
way’
(Example
2.4).
After

an
orchestral
interlude
featuring
the
banjos
and
punctuated
by
occasional
choral

interjections,
the
curtain
rises
and
the
chorus
–
now
on-‐stage
–
appears
and
sings
a

continuation
of
the
song.
One
can
easily
imagine
this
tune
as
a
typical
minstrel

number
of
the
age.
While
at
times
the
tenors
and
basses
split
into
four-‐part
divisi,

the
overall
texture
is
a
more
classically
oriented
SATB
structure.
Consequently,
the

vocal
sound
does
not
have
the
same
ring
as
the
earlier
music
for
chorus.

Nevertheless,
some
of
the
same
part-‐writing
techniques
found
in
the
earlier
TTBB

sections
are
to
be
seen
here,
in
particular
the
chromatically
descending
lines
and

consecutive
dominant
seventh
chords.
Robert
Threlfall
has
shown
that
this
music
is

almost
certainly
a
harmonization
of
an
actual
African-‐American
folksong,
based
on

his
discovery
of
the
melody
in
Negro
Songs.
7

7

Threlfall,
20.

46

Example
2.4
Koanga,
Act
II,
‘Now
once
in
a
way,’
mm.
1-‐13.

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47

In
1902,
a
few
years
after
the
premiere
of
Koanga,
the
premiere
performance

of
Appalachia
was
given.
The
full
title
of
the
work
as
given
by
Delius
is
Appalachia:

Variations
on
an
Old
Slave
Song.
Philip
Heseltine,
in
one
of
the
first
penetrating

observations
written
about
Appalachia,
says
that
the
work
“is
the
first
example
of

the
peculiar
style
of
musical
landscape
painting
that
is
so
entirely
Delius’s
own.”
8

The
success
of
this
symphonic
work
launched
Delius
on
an
international
career,
and

was
responsible
for
his
acquaintance
with
several
musical
luminaries
of
the
time.

One
of
these
was
the
young
conductor
Sir
Thomas
Beecham,
who
would
go
on
to

become
one
of
Great
Britain’s
most
lauded
conductors
as
well
as
Delius’s
most

prominent
advocate.
Appalachia
was
premiered
by
Hans
Haym
in
Elberfeld,

Germany
on
October
15,
1904,
and
was
written
during
a
span
of
years
Eric
Fenby

considered
to
be
transformative
(1900-‐1905).
In
addition
to
Appalachia,
Sea
Drift

and
A
Mass
of
Life
were
composed
during
this
period.
This
triptych
of

symphonic/choral
works
marked
the
arrival
of
Delius
as
a
mature
composer,
who

after
years
of
laboring
to
find
his
voice
was
able
to
state,
“It
was
a
long,
long
time

before
I
understood
exactly
what
I
wanted
to
say,
and
then
it
came
to
me
all
at

once.”
9

The
major
choral
music
in
Appalachia
doesn’t
appear
until
the
last
five

minutes
of
the
approximately
thirty-‐five
minute
work,
though
there
are
brief

moments
of
textless
singing
by
the
chorus
prior.
10

The
choral
music
is
the
first
vocal

statement
of
the
theme,
a
tune
that
Delius
first
encountered
in
Florida
and
later

heard
again
in
Danville.
11

The
two
most
prominent
features
of
the
melody
are
the

pentatonic
structure
and
the
sequences
of
repeated
notes.
Derek
Healey
has

commented
on
the
large
number
of
African-‐American
tunes
that
contain
repeated

8

Philip
Heseltine,
“Some
Notes
on
Delius
and
His
Music,”
7.

9

Fenby,
194.

10

Textless
singing,
usually
on
[ɑ] or [ə],
is
common
to
all
of
Delius’s
‘American’
choral
works,
and
in

some
cases
seems
to
evoke
an
atmosphere
of
distant
singing,
perhaps
a
reminiscence
of
far-‐off

singing
heard
from
Delius’s
verandah.

11

Randel,
361.

48

notes,
and
cites
the
variation
melody
in
Appalachia
as
an
example.
12

Delius’s
choral

harmonization
of
the
theme
demonstrates
his
expanded
capacity
as
a
composer

(Example
2.5).
The
music
foreshadows
the
ease
of
chromatic
part-‐writing
exhibited

in
Sea
Drift
and
also
references
techniques
derived
from
African-‐American
music
as

seen
in
Koanga.
The
harmonization
puts
the
chorus
front
and
center
in
a
way
that

was
not
demonstrated
in
Koanga,
where
it
was
relegated
to
a
background
role.

12

Healey,
28.
This
feature,
incidentally,
bolsters
the
case
that
the
first
chorus
in
Act
II
of
Koanga,

‘Now
once
in
a
way’
is
indeed
an
African-‐American
tune,
as
that
chorus
has
eleven
pairs
of
repeated

notes
in
eight
measures.

49

Example
2.5
Appalachia,
‘After
night
has
gone
comes
the
day,’
mm.
534-‐549.

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50

The
chorus
begins
in
a
standard
SATB
format.
In
the
second
and
fourth
full

measures
barbershop
harmony
is
exhibited
in
the
lower
three
parts,
while
the

51

soprano
voice
sustains
a
single
pitch.
This
continuation
of
harmonic
motion
during
a

sustained
note
at
the
end
of
a
phrase
is
a
hallmark
of
barbershop
style.
In
the
second

full
measure
this
is
marked
by
chromatically
descending
parallel
minor
thirds.
In
the

fourth
full
measure
the
same
falling
motion
can
be
seen,
though
in
this
instance
the

interval
is
a
major
third.
Delius
masks
the
motion
in
this
instance
by
introducing

divisi
in
the
tenor
part,
thereby
increasing
harmonic
tension
by
means
of

chromaticism.
As
the
theme
continues
the
texture
thickens
to
six
parts,
and
the

chromaticism
is
further
heightened
through
the
use
of
falling
vocal
lines
over
a
C

pedal
point.
In
the
seventh
full
measure
of
the
theme,
Delius
embarks
upon
a

progression
that
masks
the
conclusion
of
the
theme,
and
is
the
impetus
for
the

extended
coda.
This
progression
is
launched
by
a
string
of
dominant
seventh
chords

over
a
circle
of
fifths
progression.
On
the
second
beat
of
the
seventh
full
measure

there
is
a
dominant
seventh
chord
built
on
A,
though
it
is
masked
by
the
F
natural

passing
tone
in
the
alto
voice.
This
proceeds
to
a
D
dominant
seventh
chord,

followed
by
a
plagal
chord
with
a
blue
note.
The
resulting
progression
is
a
standard

barbershop
ending,
though
in
this
case
it
is
a
deceptive
cadence
that
launches
a

string
of
dominant
seventh
chords
over
a
circle
of
fifths
progression.
The
string
of

chords
is
built
on
the
pitches
E,
A,
D
and
G.
Again,
the
progression
is
masked
through

the
use
of
chromatic
passing
tones.
It
is
further
masked
by
the
bass
line,
which
holds

the
E
pitch
for
two
counts
while
another
part
provides
the
root
note
of
the
seventh

chord
by
moving
to
the
pitch
A
on
the
second
beat.
The
coda
continues
over
a
falling

bass
chromatic
line,
with
complex
harmonies
to
match.
This
falling
motion
was
one

of
the
defining
elements
of
Delius’s
compositional
style
and
harmonic
syntax
in
the

mature
works.
The
coda
concludes
with
another
plagal
cadence,
again
with
an
A
flat

blue
note.
This
time
it
resolves
in
typical
barbershop
fashion
with
the
baritone
voice

a
fifth
above
the
bass,
a
standard
procedure
in
barbershop
harmony.
Thus
the
theme

concludes
in
four-‐part
harmony,
the
same
way
it
began.

This
chorus,
perhaps
more
than
any
other
chorus
in
Delius’s
choral

orchestral
works,
demonstrates
the
synthesis
of
barbershop
style
with
his
own

voice
leading
idiosyncrasies.
Eric
Fenby
and
others
have
criticized
the
occasional

awkwardness
of
Delius’s
part-‐writing,
however,
this
perceived
awkwardness
may

52

be
in
part
a
result
of
Delius’s
desire
to
recreate
a
sound
similar
to
what
he
heard
in

Florida
and
Virginia.
An
African-‐American
critic
who
wrote
under
the
pseudonym

‘Tom
the
Tattler’
pilloried
barbershop
harmony
in
a
column
in
the
Indianapolis

Freeman
on
December
8,
1900,
calling
it
“musical
slang”
and
saying
that
it
“violates

–
at
times
ruthlessly
–
the
exacting
rules
and
properties
of
music.”
13

A
frequent

criticism
of
Delius’s
music,
similarly,
is
that
he
shows
a
blatant
disregard
at
times
for

the
rules
of
European
voice
leading.

After
an
orchestral
interlude
that
concludes
with
a
statement
of
the
theme
in

a
minor
key,
played
by
the
winds,
a
bass
soloist
introduces
a
new
chorus
(Example

2.6).
The
melody
of
this
chorus
is
completely
unrelated
to
the
theme
except
that
it
is

also
a
pentatonic
African-‐American
song.
There
are
also
sections
of
repeated
notes,

though
not
as
many
as
in
the
theme.
Robert
Threlfall
noted
the
similarity
of
the

baritone
solo
entrance
to
the
practice
of
‘basing’
a
melody
as
described
by
the

editors
of
Slave
Songs
of
the
United
States
(Allen,
Ware
and
Garrison,
1867).
14

In
this

case,
the
soloist
sings
for
three
bars,
and
is
answered
by
a
male
chorus,
which
sings

in
close
harmony
for
two
more
measures.
This
is
followed
by
the
sopranos,
altos
and

tenors
singing
in
close
harmony.
The
music’s
character
bears
more
similarity
to
the

choral
music
in
Koanga
than
to
the
preceding
chorus,
with
its
more
carefully

wrought
chromatic
texture.
Even
so,
the
seventh
full
bar
of
music
shows
a
handling

of
consecutive
dominant
seventh
chords
that
displays
a
level
of
craftsmanship
not

seen
in
Koanga.
The
first
two
beats
are
a
dominant
seventh
chord
built
on
B
flat,
and

the
third
and
fourth
beats
are
a
dominant
seventh
chord
built
on
E
flat.
Both
chords

are
not
fully
spelled
out
until
the
second
and
fourth
beats,
and
are
masked
by
the

pitches
of
the
tune.
In
the
first
instance
the
C
pitch
of
the
tune
is
a
suspended
note

from
the
previous
measure.
In
the
second
instance,
the
presence
of
the
F
pitch

serves
to
obscure
the
seventh
chord.
The
F
allows
Delius
to
construct
a
progression

of
inverted
triads
in
closed
position
in
the
treble
voices,
built
on
the
pitches
D
flat,
E

13

Abbott,
308.
This
column
also
contains
the
earliest
use
of
the
word
‘barbershop’
to
reference
an

American
musical
style.

14

Threlfall,
20.

53

flat
and
G,
and
following
the
contour
of
the
top
voice.
The
craftsmanship
evident
in

these
bars
shows
Delius
blending
African-‐American
sonorities
with
his
own
style
of

chromaticism.

Example
2.6
Appalachia,
‘Oh
honey,
I
am
going
down
the
river,’
mm.
592-‐601.

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54

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55

If
Appalachia
marks
the
point
at
which
African-‐American
sonorities
were

fully
synthesized
into
Delius’s
broader
harmonic
language
and
compositional

technique,
then
Sea
Drift
(1903)
marks
the
point
at
which
these
sonorities
were
so

subsumed
as
to
become
almost
indiscernible.
The
more
obvious
references
to

African-‐American
vocal
music
in
the
barbershop
style,
such
as
strings
of
dominant

seventh
chords
and
close
harmony
textures,
are
rarely
found.
When
they
are

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56

present,
they
are
masked
to
such
a
degree
that
they
are
rendered
practically

inaudible.
Instead,
the
constantly
descending
chromatic
lines,
occasional
blue
notes,

melodic
fragments
in
pentatonic
contours,
and
chords
with
an
added
sixth
merely

suggest
an
African-‐American
influence.
All
of
these
features
are
distributed
evenly

between
the
chorus
and
orchestra
and
occur
in
small
doses,
adding
to
the
muted

quality
of
such
influences.
The
use
of
baritone
soloist
and
chorus
does
dovetail

neatly
with
the
pattern
Delius
first
established
in
his
Negro
Songs
sketches
and

continued
in
Appalachia,
and
is
cited
by
Robert
Threlfall
as
an
influence
of
African-‐
American
call
and
response
singing.
15

By
the
time
Sea
Drift
was
composed
Delius
had
reached
compositional

maturity
as
an
intuitive
composer
unconstrained
by
the
conventions
of
form,
and

fully
trusted
his
musical
instincts.
His
intuitive
sense
of
flow
was
shaped
by
many

influences
that
were
subconsciously
melded
into
his
sound.
Delius
spoke
to
Fenby
of

the
ease
with
which
Sea
Drift
was
composed,
saying,
“…
the
shape
of
it
was
taken
out

of
my
hands,
so
to
speak,
and
bred
effortlessly
of
the
nature
and
sequence
of
my

particular
musical
ideas,
and
the
nature
and
sequence
of
the
particular
poetical

ideas
of
Whitman
that
appealed
to
me.”
16

Whereas
the
choruses
in
Koanga
and

Appalachia
were
colored
by
the
power
of
recollection
and
nostalgia,
the
choral

material
in
Sea
Drift
was
shaped
by
the
emotional
underpinnings
of
the
text.

Yet
while
the
chorus
plays
a
prominent
role
in
the
twenty-‐six
minute
work,
it
never

supersedes
the
orchestra
in
importance.
Delius
always
stated
that
the
narrative
was

to
be
found
in
the
orchestra.
He
told
Eric
Fenby
that
he
felt
this
was
so
not
only
in

his
own
works
but
those
of
Wagner
as
well.
17

For
Delius
the
emotive
content
of
the

text
was
more
important
than
any
narrative.
Philip
Heseltine,
in
program
notes
for

the
1929
Delius
Festival,
wrote:

15

Threlfall,
21.

16

Fenby,
36.

17

Fenby,
205.

57

Delius
has
always
been
moved,
in
the
selection
of
his
texts,
by
the

underlining
emotion
of
a
poem
as
a
whole,
rather
than
by
any
narrative,

dramatic,
or
verbal
felicities
it
may
possess…
For
Delius,
as
for
Schubert
and

all
the
great
composers
of
the
past,
music
in
song
is
all-‐sufficing,
and
the

words
of
a
poem
are
but
the
frame-‐work
upon
which
the
musician
may

weave
a
pattern
that
shall
enshrine
its
dominant
emotion.
18

The
text,
chosen
by
Delius’s
wife
Jelka,
is
taken
from
the
poem
Sea
Drift
by

Walt
Whitman
(excerpted
from
the
Leaves
of
Grass).
It
tells
of
a
boy
who
observes

two
mating
seabirds
that
are
parted.
The
entirety
of
the
poem
speaks
to
love
lost,
set

against
a
constant
musical
background
of
sea
swells
and
murmurs.
The
way
Delius

sets
the
text
in
the
choral
material
of
Sea
Drift
is
generally
typical
of
his
handling
of

choral
texture
in
the
large
choral-‐orchestral
works.
While
Delius
was
not
the
most

graceful
facilitator
of
proper
syllabic
stress,
he
was
nevertheless
particular
in
the

crafting
of
vocal
texture.
This
can
be
illustrated
by
an
anecdote
Delius
related
to

Fenby
about
the
rehearsals
leading
to
the
premiere
performance
of
Sea
Drift
in

Germany.
Apparently
a
young
fellow
associated
with
the
chorus
felt
that
he
could

improve
upon
the
part
writing
of
the
new
work.
He
smoothed
out
the
voice
leading

so
that
there
were
far
fewer
awkward
leaps
in
the
vocal
parts,
yet
he
preserved
the

exact
harmonies.
When
Delius
heard
these
revisions
in
rehearsal,
he
demanded
that

his
original
scoring
be
restored.
Apparently
the
chastened
fellow
heard
the
error
of

his
ways
in
the
performance,
and
acknowledged
that
the
choral
color
had
been

greatly
compromised
by
his
revisions.
19

No
doubt
what
the
fellow
was
responding

to
were
the
idiosyncrasies
of
Delius’s
part
writing,
evident
as
far
back
as
Koanga.

Even
though
barbershop
harmonies
are
not
readily
evident
in
Sea
Drift,
the
license

Delius
took
in
part-‐writing
as
a
result
of
re-‐creating
African-‐American
color
in
the

earlier
works
remained
with
him.

There
is
one
section
of
music
in
which
the
chorus
is
more
to
the
foreground,

and
it
is
the
baritone
solo
and
chorus
“O
rising
stars”
(Example
2.7).

18

Heseltine
“The
Songs
of
Delius.”
Program
notes
from
the
1929
Delius
Festival
given
by
Sir
Thomas

Beecham
in
London;
republished
in
the
Delius
Society
Journal
94
(Autumn
1987),
46-‐7.

19

Fenby,
204.

58

Example
2.7
Sea
Drift,
‘O
rising
stars,’
mm.
344-‐69.

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59

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60

The
theme
in
this
section
appears
earlier
in
the
work
in
the
same
key
of
E
(this

chorus
begins
with
the
words,
“Shine,
shine,
shine…”).
Whereas
the
earlier
chorus

was
accompanied
by
full
orchestra,
“O
rising
star’
is
largely
unaccompanied,
except

for
the
appearance
of
bassoon
and
double
bass
at
the
very
end.
The
chorus
is
in
two

sections,
and
can
be
divided
using
the
entrance
of
the
baritone
soloist
as
a

demarcation
point.
The
first
cadence
is
masked
to
a
degree
by
the
descent
of
the

bass
part.
If
one
were
to
divide
the
chorus
based
on
the
descent
of
the
bass
line,
the

demarcation
point
would
occur
three
bars
after
the
entrance
of
the
baritone
soloist,

where
the
bass
line
descends
to
a
low
E.
The
second
section
concludes
by
also

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61

coming
to
rest
on
a
low
E,
though
this
is
achieved
by
the
return
of
instruments.
The

chorus
cadences
and
comes
to
rest
on
a
second
inversion
tonic
triad
while
the

instruments
play
F
sharp
and
E.
The
development
of
this
section
is
derived
from
the

chromatic
harmonization
of
a
motive
that
appears
consistently
in
the
top
voice.
This

four-‐note
figure
consists
of
a
rising
perfect
fifth,
followed
by
a
descending
perfect

fourth
and
a
descending
major
second.
The
varied
harmonies
begin
at
the
baritone

soloist
entrance,
after
the
theme
–
which
begins
with
these
three
intervals
–
has

been
completely
stated
in
the
first
seven
and
a
half
bars.
The
chromatic
harmony
in

this
section
suggests
there
is
little
African-‐American
influence.
There
are
hardly
any

parallel
motion
thirds
or
sixths,
and
no
dominant
seventh
chords
over
a
circle
of

fifths
progression.
An
additional
facet
of
the
music
that
supports
this
conclusion
is

the
even
distribution
of
the
vocal
parts,
as
opposed
to
a
texture
containing
closed

TTBB
harmonies
or
a
male-‐voice
heavy
sound.

“O
rising
stars”
is
a
structural
microcosm
of
Sea
Drift.
The
entire
work
flows

in
a
quasi-‐Wagnerian
manner,
and
Delius’s
preference
for
repeating
couplets
of

chords,
omnipresent
and
crudely
handled
in
such
early
works
as
the
Florida
Suite,
is

finessed
by
dexterous
treatment
of
chordal
voicing
and
the
use
of
‘substitution’

chords
(different
chords
used
to
harmonize
the
same
melodic
motive)
20
.
One
can

reference
fragments
and
motives
that
point
to
African-‐American
influence,
but
there

is
little
substantial
material
in
Sea
Drift
that
can
be
traced
to
the
music
Delius
likely

heard
in
Florida
and
Virginia.
Healey
comes
to
the
same
conclusion
in
his
discussion

of
the
work,
though
he
came
to
his
verdict
primarily
through
rhythmic
and
melodic

analysis.
Indeed,
the
text
of
Sea
Drift
begins
with
the
words,
“Once
Paumanok…”

which
was
one
of
several
Native
American
names
for
Long
Island,
New
York
(quite
a

distance
from
Florida
or
Virginia!).
21

Koanga,
Appalachia,
and
Sea
Drift
are
all
works
with
an
explicit
‘American’

genesis.
Of
these
three,
Koanga
and
Appalachia
are
the
compositions
most
obviously

20

While
the
use
of
‘substitution’chords
is
a
hallmark
of
barbershop
technique,
it
is
uncertain
that
this

was
an
aspect
of
African-‐American
influence
on
Delius’s
music.

21

http://www.richmondhillhistory.org/indians.html
Accessed
July
30,
2015.

62

influenced
by
African-‐American
music,
and
they
contain
melodies
of
confirmed

African-‐American
origin.
Sea
Drift,
on
the
other
hand,
contains
no
known
melodies

of
African-‐American
origin,
and
African-‐American
influences,
while
present,
seem

more
often
than
not
to
be
a
result
of
a
subconscious
undercurrent
of
Delius’s

compositional
process.

So
far,
various
elements
of
African-‐American
influence
have
been
pointed
to

and
analyzed
on
a
superficial
level.
There
is
remaining
a
choral
work
that
contains
a

great
amount
of
material
that
seems
to
be
derived
from
African-‐American
music,

and
that
is
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs:
To
Be
Sung
of
a
Summer
Night
on
the

Water.
The
title
does
not
suggest
an
‘American’
connection,
and
since
the
work
is

textless,
no
clue
can
be
derived
from
lyrics.
Yet
this
a
cappella
miniature,
composed

after
the
other
three
works,
exhibits
a
blend
of
the
nostalgic,
reminiscent
mood
of

Appalachia
with
the
ease
of
craft
and
flow
in
Sea
Drift.
In
the
next
chapter,
a
more

thorough
analysis
of
the
musical
material
in
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
will

show
the
influence
of
African-‐American
quartet
harmonizing.
This
will
serve
to

illuminate
the
way
by
which
the
choral
music
in
Koanga,
Appalachia
and
Sea
Drift

can
be
examined
in
the
future.

63

Chapter
3

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs

An
Analysis

Delius’s
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs:
To
Be
Sung
of
a
Summer
Night
on
the

Water
for
mixed
chorus,
date
from
the
spring
of
1917.
By
this
time
he
had
lived
in

Grez,
on
the
Loing
River,
for
almost
twenty
years.
Paul
Spicer,
the
British
conductor,

describes
the
mood
of
these
pieces:

The
mood
engendered
is
that
of
someone
lying
in
a
small
boat,
letting
it
drift

where
it
will
while
he
looks
upwards
in
a
wistful
referee.
The
picture

painting
is
impressionistic
and
suggestive
to
the
imagination.
Delius
paints

his
picture
purely
in
music
as
there
are
no
words
and,
rather
like
the

advantage
of
radio
over
television,
this
increases
the
songs’
power
of

suggestion.
The
two
songs
are
very
different
from
each
other
but
share

common
cause
in
their
underlying
tenderness
and
reflective
nature.
1

A
photograph
of
the
Australian
composer
Percy
Grainger
in
a
rowboat
on
the
Loing

River
accompanies
the
article
from
which
this
quote
is
taken.
2

Perhaps
this
was

included
to
suggest
that
when
Delius
composed
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
he

was
thinking
of
this
river,
which
flowed
by
the
back
of
the
garden
at
the
Delius

home.
With
some
perspective,
it
is
just
as
easy
to
imagine
the
music
evoking
the
St.

John’s
River
in
Florida
and
the
distant
music
of
African-‐Americans
that
Delius
heard

from
the
house
there.
There
are
certainly
many
features
in
both
partsongs
that
give

validity
to
this
notion.
The
immediate
visual
tip-‐off
in
the
score
is
the
arrangement

of
the
men’s
voices
in
a
TTBB
layout.
The
soprano
and
alto
parts
are
not
similarly

1

Paul
Spicer,
“The
‘Summer
Pieces’
Two
Unaccompanied
Partsongs:
A
Conductor’s
Perspective.”
The

Delius
Society
Journal
No.
140
(Autumn
2006):
61.

2

Grainger,
one
of
Delius’s
bohemian
friends,
visited
him
in
Grez
several
times.

64

divided.
While
the
men’s
voices
are
not
always
divided
in
four
parts,
frequently
they

are.
When
this
occurs
the
sound
is
laden
with
chords
containing
close
harmony

sonorities.
In
the
second
partsong,
there
is
a
tenor
solo
in
addition
to
the
TTBB

texture,
adding
to
the
richness
of
the
male
voice
sound.

A
clue
for
the
phrase
analysis
of
these
short
partsongs
can
be
found
in
Eric

Fenby’s
comments
regarding
the
conception
of
the
opening
of
the
second
movement

of
Delius’s
Songs
of
Farewell.
3

Delius,
in
thinking
about
how
to
begin
the
movement,

came
up
with
three
chords,
C
major,
B
flat
major,
and
A
major.
Out
of
these
chords

he
was
able
to
construct
the
first
twenty-‐one
measures,
over
half
the
movement
(the

movement
is
thirty-‐nine
measures
long).
The
first
of
the
Two
Unaccompanied
Part

Songs
is
thirty
measures,
and
is
based
on
D
minor
for
the
first
eight
measures,
A

minor
for
the
next
eight
measures,
followed
by
the
concluding
material
based
on
D

minor.
In
the
first
eight
measures
the
melody
is
laid
out
in
the
soprano
part.
In
the

second
eight
measures
the
melody
begins
in
the
soprano
part,
then
moves
down
to

the
alto
part
in
the
second
measure
of
the
phrase,
after
which
it
is
traded
back
and

forth
between
the
alto
and
tenor
I
parts
for
the
duration.
In
the
next
eight
measures

the
melody
is
repeated
in
D
minor,
but
is
passed
around
various
parts
over
a

chromatically
falling
bass
line.
The
bass
line
descends
to
F
in
measure
twenty-‐five,

and
rises
to
B
flat
two
measures
later,
where
it
stays
while
the
upper
parts
resolve

to
the
concluding
B
flat
major
sonority.

There
are
several
features
of
the
music
that
suggest
the
harmonic
influence

of
quartet
singing,
of
which
the
afore-‐mentioned
TTBB
texture
is
but
one.
In
the
first

eight
measures
there
are
seven
dominant
seventh
chords.
Four
of
them
appear
over

a
circle
of
fifths
progression
at
the
end
of
the
phrase,
in
mm.
6-‐8
(Example
3.1).
The

progression
is
continuous
except
for
a
passing
half-‐diminished
chord
on
the

downbeat
of
m.
7
that
is
created
by
the
motion
of
parallel
sixths
in
the
lowest
parts.

3

Fenby,
148.

65

Example
3.1

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
5-‐8.

Of
the
remaining
three
chords
two
resolve
in
a
circle
of
fifths
progression,
though

this
is
obscured
by
the
use
of
inversions,
and
the
resolution
is
not
to
another

dominant
seventh
chord.
The
resolution
of
the
second
dominant
seventh
chord
(m.

4
second
beat
to
downbeat
of
m.
5,
see
Example
3.1
for
m.
5)
nevertheless
shares
an

important
feature
with
the
usual
resolution
of
a
dominant
seventh
chord
to
another

dominant
seventh
chord
(Example
3.2).

66

Example
3.2

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
1-‐4.

This
feature
is
the
use
of
a
device
in
quartet
singing
called
a
‘minor.’
The
term

‘minor’
is
historically
a
rather
loosely
applied
term
that
refers
to
flattening
a
pitch
or

changing
an
interval
from
major
to
minor.
The
chord
in
the
fourth
measure
is

spelled
A,
C ♯,
E,
G
and
this
resolves
to
a
minor
seventh
chord
(D,
F,
A,
C).
In
a

dominant
seventh
chord
progression
over
a
circle
of
fifths
the
first
chord
would

resolve
to
a
chord
spelled
D,
F ♯,
A,
C.
The
C ♯
from
the
previous
dominant
seventh

67

chord
is
flattened
to
C ♮,
creating a
“minor.’
Delius
retains
this
technique,
but
rather

than
proceeding
to
a
dominant
seventh
chord
he
flattens
the
third
of
the
seventh

chord
in
addition
to
the
seventh.
The
very
first
dominant
seventh
chord
(m.
2

downbeat)
shares
only
the
feature
of
resolving
to
a
chord
following
a
circle
of
fifths

progression.
The
last
of
the
dominant
seventh
chords
to
be
considered
(m.
6,
fourth

beat,
see
Example
3.1)
is
an
incidental
product
of
parallel
sixths
in
the
lowest
parts.

The
sound
of
the
dominant
seventh
sonority
is
a
pervasive
sound
in
the
first
phrase,

even
though
the
voice
leading
is
more
sophisticated
when
compared
to
the
excerpts

discussed
from
Koanga
or
Appalachia.
This
sound
is
enriched
by
the
frequent
use
of

parallel
thirds
and
sixths
over
a
chromatically
descending
bass
line.
(It
may
be

recalled
that
in
the
a
cappella
portion
of
Sea
Drift
the
chromatically
falling
bass
line

is
a
prominent
feature,
but
strings
of
parallel
thirds
and
sixths
are
scarce.)
The
last

chord
of
the
string
of
dominant
seventh
chords
ending
the
phrase
is
voiced

completely
in
the
male
parts,
with
the
baritone
a
fifth
above
the
bass,
in
barbershop

style.
This
sets
up
a
deceptive
cadence
that
is
heightened
in
intensity
by
the
voice

leading
Delius
employs
in
the
men’s
quartet
texture.
The
complete
spelling
of
the
F

dominant
seventh
chord
in
m.
8
resolves
not
to
a
chord
built
on
D,
but
rather
to
an
A

minor
triad,
spelled
completely
in
the
men’s
voices
in
closed
position.

In
the
second
phrase
in
mm.
14-‐16
there
is
a
barbershop
device
called
a

‘swipe,’
and
this
appears
in
the
tenor
II
and
baritone
parts
(Example
3.3).

68

Example
3.3

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm
13-‐16.

A
swipe
is
created
when
voices
move
in
parallel
motion
while
one
part
remains
on
a

single
pitch.
The
most
common
of
these
typically
involve
voices
that
rise
and
then

fall
chromatically
in
parallel
motion.
This
type
of
motion
can
also
be
seen
in
many

barbershop
endings.
In
mm.
14-‐16
the
bass
remains
on
G
while
the
tenor
II
part

rises
from
B
to
C ♯
and
then
proceeds
downward
by
semitone
back
to
a
B.
Likewise

the
baritone
rises
from
D
to
E,
and
then
falls
chromatically
back
to
D.
The
fact
that

Delius
placed
this
swipe
in
the
three
lowest
men’s
parts
rather
than
spreading
it

among
other
parts
highlights
its
‘barbershop’
quality.

The
second
phrase
ends
in
m.
16
with
a
dominant
seventh
chord
on
A,
again

voiced
entirely
in
the
men’s
quartet
texture
on
the
fourth
beat.
This
resolves
in
a

circle
of
fifths
progression
to
a
chord
built
on
D.
Once
again,
Delius
complicates
the

motion,
placing
a
minor
seventh
chord
on
the
downbeat
of
m.
17.
(Example
3.4).

69

Example
3.4

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
17-‐21.

Delius
also
enriches
the
sound
by
expanding
the
dominant
seventh
chord
to
include

a
ninth.
In
codified
barbershop
harmony
there
are
dominant
ninth
chords
and

added
ninth
chords,
which
means
that
in
a
quartet
texture
a
pitch
must
be
left
out
to

achieve
a
chord
with
an
added
ninth.
This
is
usually
the
fifth,
though
at
times
the

tonic
can
be
eliminated.
Delius
does
indeed
leave
out
the
fifth
in
the
TTBB
texture,

but
he
is
able
to
supply
the
missing
pitch
in
the
contralto
part.

In
the
third
large
section
there
are
several
instances
of
voice
leading
which

lend
themselves
to
possible
revision.
An
example
is
in
measures
20-‐22.
The
tenor
II

part
could
easily
trade
with
the
baritone
part
for
the
duration
of
m.
21,
with
both

parts
returning
back
to
their
written
parts
in
m.
22
(see
Example
3.5
for
m.
22).

70

Example
3.5

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
22-‐25.

This
would
eliminate
awkward
leaps
in
the
tenor
II
part,
including
a
tritone
from
m.

21
to
22.
It
would
also
allow
the
baritone
to
remain
on
the
same
pitch
in
mm.
20-‐21,

and
again
in
mm.
21-‐22.
While
it
is
tempting
to
consider
such
revisions,
one
should

take
into
advisement
the
anecdote
mentioned
in
Chapter
2
regarding
the
fellow
who

attempted
revisions
in
the
choral
parts
of
Sea
Drift,
only
to
be
rebuked
by
Delius.

The
final
three
measures
are
illustrative
of
how
Delius
takes
a
barbershop

progression
and
shapes
it
to
create
his
unique
sound
(Example
3.6).

71

Example
3.6

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
1,
mm.
26-‐30

Delius
obscures
this
progression
with
two
2-‐1
suspensions
in
the
soprano
voice
(C

to
B♭),
as
well
as
an
added
sixth
in
the
final
chord,
anticipated
by
a
lower
neighbor

F ♯.
Additionally,
the
progression
is
drawn
out
over
three
bars,
as
opposed
to
a

more
compact
use
of
beats.
The
baritone
voice
helps
to
ground
the
final
chord
by

coming
to
rest
a
fifth
above
the
bass,
as
would
be
expected
in
barbershop
harmony.

The
added
sixth
on
the
final
chord
(referred
to
in
barbershop
harmony
as
a
sixth

chord)
is
a
touch
of
Delian
warmth,
heightened
by
the
2-‐1
suspension
in
the
top

voice.

The
ending
in
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
No.
1
is
a
combination
of
two

barbershop
endings
that
are
part
of
a
chart
of
ten
‘simple’
endings
in
Sigmund

72

Spaeth’s
Barbershop
Ballads
and
How
To
Sing
Them.
4

Spaeth’s
ending
No.
3
consists

of
the
third
and
fifth
of
the
final
triad
rising,
then
falling
a
semi-‐tone
(Example
3.7).

In
ending
No.
10
the
third
and
fifth
of
the
triad
fall
a
semi-‐tone.

Example
3.7

Ending
No.
3,
from
Barbershop
Ballads
and
How
To
Sing
Them,
Spaeth.

In
the
partsong
the
moving
pitches
are
in
the
baritone
and
contralto
parts.
Example

3.8
demonstrates
the
last
six
bars
condensed
into
a
stylistically
correct
barbershop

quartet
ending.
The
combined
ending
is
in
the
last
two
measures
(Example
3.8).

Example
3.8

Barbershop
ending,
Tenor
II
lead

It
is
tempting
to
think
of
the
E ♮ as
part
of
a
Lydian
sonority,
especially
if
one
is

familiar
with
prominent
occurrences
of
this
sonority
in
other
Delius
works.
An

example
is
the
final
concluding
orchestral
portion
of
the
fifth
and
final
movement
of

4

Sigmund
Spaeth,
Barbershop
Ballads
and
How
To
Sing
Them.
2
nd

ed.
New
York:
Prentice
Hall,
1940,

14.
Ending
Nos.
3,
10.

V
V
?
?
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
Tenor 1
Tenor 2
Bass 1
Bass 2
˙
˙
w
˙
˙ b
w
w
w
w
w
[Title]
[Composer]
V
?
b
b
b
b
4
4
4
4
Tenor
Bass
˙
˙ n
˙ ˙
˙ ˙ b
˙ ˙
w
w
w
w
˙
œ
œ #
w
˙
œ b
œ n
w
w
w
w
w
Delius Two Part Songs #1 Barbershop Ending

73

the
Requiem.
The
final
twenty
bars
of
the
fifth
and
last
movement
are
entirely
in
D

major,
except
that
there
is
not
a
G ♮ to
be
found
anywhere.
Instead,
there
are
copious

instances
of
G ♯scattered
throughout
the
airy
and
ethereal
orchestration.
However,

in
the
case
of
the
partsong,
the
E ♮ only
occurs
for
a
beat,
and
is
much
better

understood
in
the
context
of
a
barbershop
ending.

The
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
No.
2
is
quicker
and
brighter
than
the

slow
and
reflective
No.
1.
The
theme
of
the
first
partsong
meanders,
while
the
theme

of
the
second
has
a
whistling
quality.
The
tune
is
sung
throughout
by
the
tenor

soloist,
and
has
a
strongly
pentatonic
contour
(Example
3.9).
5

Example
3.9

Theme
of
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
No.
2,
mm.
1-‐4.

The
four
bar
theme
is
followed
at
every
occurrence
by
an
ending
that
facilitates
the

harmonic
motion
to
the
next
key.
For
the
first
four
measures
of
the
opening
seven

bar
phrase
the
tune
is
accompanied
by
parallel
motion
and
repeated
pairs
of
chords,

all
built
over
a
D
pedal
point
in
the
bass
voice.
The
last
three
bars
of
the
phrase
(mm.

5-‐7)
feature
a
complex
progression
of
chords
(Example
3.10).

5

Derek
Healey
has
included
this
theme
along
with
the
Appalachia
theme
in
his
catalogue
of
Delian

melodies
influenced
by
African-‐American
tunes,
because
of
the
use
of
repeated
notes.

V 4
4
Tenor œ
œ
.
œ
œ
œ #
œ œ
œ
œ
œ
Luh luh lah luh luh luh lah,
F
œ
œ
.
œ
œ
œ #
œ œ
luh lah luh luh luh lah,
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
lah lah, lah lah,
f
p
V T
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
lah hah hah, lah hah hah,
f p
! !
V T
!
Theme of Two Unaccompanied Part Songs No. 2 Delius
[Composer]
V 4
4
Tenor œ
œ
.
œ
œ
œ #
œ œ
œ
œ
œ
Luh luh lah luh luh luh lah,
F
œ
œ
.
œ
œ
œ #
œ œ
luh lah luh luh luh lah,
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
lah lah, lah lah,
f
p
V T
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
lah hah hah, lah hah hah,
f p
! !
V T
!
Theme of Two Unaccompanied Part Songs No. 2 Delius
[Composer]

74

Example
3.10

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
No.
2,
mm.
3-‐8.

;,.
s.
v mp
"
if"
c.
v mp
" r-
Sol 0
v
lah __ lah,
T.
II
B.
II
J
"
..., mp
l
"
..., mp'
t
:
:
-
mp
mp'
!:
c i ;•
J J
:
.;,.. ..,.
"'·
....
f
fl
c.
'lJ
f
"
f..,.
Solo
tJ
ah
"
f
IV
f
:.{
Jl
:
,-
:
'
f
:.{
II
!
n
-
-
'
'
1-1
1_,,
I J..-....1
PP
'mp
pp
'
PP
mp--=
PP
-v...--
'
r- r• -v- r•
'
--
..---.
'
lah __ lah,
la- ha- hah, la- ha-hah, la - ha - hah
--
'
t-. -
t-. '
pp
'
mp
PP
'
PP
mp
PP
. -. . .
PP
mp
PP
. .
pp'
r
mp r PP
I I I I .J I
tl
,. ..
,.
•
, ,
J J
#'
'
ra 1er sower
'
tl l
p
'
l
'
p _;•
.
- '
mv .. ...
,. b,4
.. ..
luh luh la ha ha ha lah
'
n ..:-
....
'
p
--
p
'
'
--
'
p
p
---.J
"J.
I I
,.,........
,
-
M-
---.1
W. R· 29&9
;,.
s.
v mp
"
if"
c.
v mp
" r-
Sol 0
v
lah __ lah,
T.
II
B.
II
J
"
..., mp
l
"
..., mp'
t
:
:
-
mp
mp'
!:
c i ;•
J J
:
.;,.. ..,.
"'·
....
f
fl
c.
'lJ
f
"
f..,.
Solo
tJ
ah
"
f
IV
f
:.{
Jl
:
,-
:
'
f
:.{
II
!
n
-
-
'
'
1-1
1_,,
I J..-....1
PP
'mp
pp
'
PP
mp--=
PP
-v...--
'
r- r• -v- r•
'
--
..---.
'
lah __ lah,
la- ha- hah, la- ha-hah, la - ha - hah
--
'
t-. -
t-. '
pp
'
mp
PP
'
PP
mp
PP
. -. . .
PP
mp
PP
. .
pp'
r
mp r PP
I I I I .J I
tl
,. ..
,.
•
, ,
J J
#'
'
ra 1er sower
'
tl l
p
'
l
'
p _;•
.
- '
mv .. ...
,. b,4
.. ..
luh luh la ha ha ha lah
'
n ..:-
....
'
p
--
p
'
'
--
'
p
p
---.J
"J.
I I
,.,........
,
-
M-
---.1
W. R· 29&9

75

On
the
first
two
beats
of
m.
5
there
is
a
dominant
seventh
chord
built
on
D,
spelled

out
entirely
in
the
men’s
quartet
texture.
One
would
expect
that
in
typical

barbershop
style
this
dominant
seventh
chord
would
resolve
to
a
chord
built
on
G.

And
indeed,
on
the
downbeat
of
m.
6
a
G
major
triad
is
present,
though
it
is
not
in

the
quartet
texture.
Instead,
it
is
in
the
upper
voices.
The
tenor
solo
G
serves
as
the

root,
and
the
chord
is
stacked
in
the
contralto
and
soprano
divisi,
in
a
four-‐voice

closed
position.
Meanwhile,
the
male
quartet
voices
have
proceeded
to
a
C
major

triad
on
the
downbeat
of
m.
6,
with
the
open
fifth
in
the
bottom
two
voices.
One

could
think
of
this
as
an
added
ninth
chord,
yet
since
the
tenor
comes
to
rest
on
a
G

in
the
measure
after
the
quartet
texture
sings
a
D
dominant
seventh
chord,
it
is

better
thought
of
as
a
barbershop
resolution
from
D
to
G.
The
forte
dynamic
and
the

G
major
triad
in
the
upper
voices
strengthen
the
tenor
soloist’s
arrival
on
G.
The
C

major
sonority
in
the
male
quartet
simply
adds
a
layer
of
complexity
and
richness
to

the
sound.
In
m.
7
there
is
another
dominant
seventh
chord
built
on
A,
again
entirely

contained
in
the
quartet
texture.
However
this
resolves
to
a
minor
seventh
built
on

G.
The
driver
of
this
progression
is
the
tenor
solo
voice,
which
has,
in
the
course
of

the
three
bar
ending
following
the
theme,
moved
from
the
forte
G
to
an
F ♯
and
then

E,
before
commencing
the
theme
in
G
minor
(on
the
pitch
D,
a
major
second
below

E).

Beginning
in
m.
8
and
continuing
for
the
next
eleven
measures
the
sliding

chromatic
harmonies
that
typified
the
entirety
of
the
first
partsong
are
prevalent.

The
first
four
bars
of
this
section
are
marked
considerably
slower
than
the
opening

seven
bars.
The
slightly
varied
theme
is
in
G
minor,
and
is
cut
short
one
measure
by

a
C
dominant
seventh
chord
in
second
inversion,
again
contained
entirely
in
the

quartet
texture.
The
dominant
seventh
chord
in
m.
11
resolves
as
expected
(and
in

clearer
fashion
than
the
one
in
m.
5)
to
F
major
in
m.
12
(Example
3.11).

76

Example
3.11

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
No.
2,
mm.
9-‐14.

s
c
!iol 0
B.
II
{
8
,;,.
.
-v
"
-
.....
*
..,
luh Ia - ha-hnh,
--
"
..--r--
f4'ir-
v
..-r--.
fiJ
-
.
:
1\
-
I
'
.... ---..
-
'
-
J
'
p
f
p
-
' j,;;-. ;;:--..,
_,_
'
In - ha - hnh, Ia - ha- bah, hah,
..
' '
'
J
p
'
-
I
'
f
-"I
p
'
-
'
' f
p·
.f .r:F.ri
p
,_ __...
I.
I
v
,. v ..
- 1.1.....1
,_
t.J. h J
J I.J -
•
r-
.
I
I
r
r .
T I
,;,.
J
' '
.; J .L ..h I ===---
s.
v
p r
----
--1
II
•
'
'
' c. .
v
p
11 ml' .... ---.... --;;- -.......
.
-• .. .--...;,
'
·-
-
Solo
jV
luhluh la ha ha_ hah __ tuh Ia ha ha_ hah, luh luh Ia ha ha_ ha
II
---
.--..
'
'
.. -
IV
p
.l.. II
'
-
'
. .....
-----
v
p
;·{
II
.... ---:-1;- ..
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:
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' '
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-,
:
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-
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);,
Tempo I
,..-, J I J r"r::
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-=
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JR. J
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:.{
II
W. R. 2959

77

Measures
12-‐15
proceed
in
the
original
tempo,
and
the
harmonic
motion
is
at
its

most
complex.
The
sliding
harmonies
are
thickly
scored,
with
multiple
divisi
in
both

the
male
and
treble
voices.
Measures
16-‐18
are
in
A
major,
which
sets
up
a
return
to

the
theme
in
the
original
key.
The
return
to
the
original
key
is
preceded
by
a

dominant
seventh
chord
in
third
inversion
on
the
fourth
beat
of
m.
18.
This
is

spelled
out
in
the
male
voices,
though
in
this
instance
the
A
pitch
in
the
tenor
solo

completes
the
chord.

The
concluding
fifteen
measures
of
the
piece
are
entirely
in
the
key
of
D,
and

the
harmonic
motion
is
slowed
considerably,
as
evidenced
by
the
movement
of
the

bass
line
between
D
and
A.
The
harmonization
of
the
first
two
measures
of
this

section
(mm.
19-‐20)
is
different
from
the
opening
two
measures
of
the
piece,
but
the

next
two
measures
are
almost
exactly
identical
to
mm.
3-‐4.
In
fact,
the
only

differences
are
the
dynamic
markings
and
the
durations
of
the
bass
and
baritone

pitches
in
m.
21,
compared
to
m.
3.

The
barbershop
minors
in
the
concluding

portion
of
the
second
partsong
are
notable,
particularly
the
movement
back
and

forth
between
C ♯
and
C ♮ (Example
3.12).
This
is
most
noticeable
in
mm.
24-‐25.
The

lowest
note
of
the
chords
in
both
measures
is
A.
The
C ♯
in
m.
24
is
prominent,
and

suggests
an
application
as
a
leading
tone.
However,
in
the
next
measure
the
bass

does
not
move
to
D,
even
though
the
theme
begins
again
in
the
key
of
D
major.
The

bass
voice
remains
on
A,
and
the
chord
above
is
a
diminished
seventh
chord,
with
a

C ♮ in
the
tenor
II
part.
The
piece
concludes
on
a
simple
four
note
D
major
chord,

reminiscent
of
the
ending
of
the
first
chorus
in
Appalachia.
Both
the
ending
of
the

‘After
the
night
has
gone
comes
the
day’
in
Appalachia
and
the
ending
of
this

partsong
are
voiced
exactly
the
same,
from
bottom
to
top.
In
both
cases,
the
final

chords
follow
music
with
a
dense
chromatic
texture
featuring
sliding
harmonies,
as

well
as
liberal
use
of
divisi.
They
are
arrived
at
by
a
gradual
diminishing
of
vocal

texture
and
a
relaxation
of
harmonic
tension.

78

Example
3.12

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
No.
2,
mm.
21-‐26.

I.
c.
Solo
;·{
II
:.{
II
••
c.
Sol
T.
II
B
II
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79

The
harmonic
intensity
of
the
second
partsong,
which
exists
in
counterbalance
to
a

sprightly
tune
that
could
be
harmonized
by
a
single
chord,
is
heightened
by
the

tempo
and
the
presence
of
the
upper
voices.
In
the
first
partsong
the
upper
voices

are
essential
to
complete
the
chord
spellings
throughout.
However,
in
the
second

partsong
one
could
eliminate
the
upper
voices
for
sections
at
a
time,
as
many
of
the

chord
spellings
are
complete
within
the
solo
voice
and
quartet
texture.
The
upper

voices
serve
as
a
thickening
agent
in
the
middle
section,
and
add
a
light
sheen
to
the

male
quartet
sound
in
the
bookend
D
major
sections.

Both
partsongs
owe
their
harmonic
development
almost
entirely
to

chromatic
sliding
harmonies.
This
can
be
seen
in
barbershop
music
most
clearly
in

some
of
the
more
elaborate
endings
Spaeth
suggests.
A
prominent
feature
of
these

endings
is
the
rise
of
two
or
more
voices
by
a
third,
followed
by
chromatically

descending
motion
back
to
the
departure
note.
This
motion
can
occur
over
almost

any
rhythm,
whereas
Spaeth’s
simple
endings
occur
over
just
two
half
notes
in
a
bar.

Below
is
an
example
of
a
more
elaborate
ending
(Example
3.13)
6
.
The
second

partsong
in
particular
exhibits
this
type
of
intervallic
horizontal
motion,
with

multiple
instances
of
voices
that
fall
chromatically
only
to
rise
again
by
a
third
and

repeat
the
falling
motion.

Example
3.13

Ending
No.
46,
Barbershop
Ballads
and
How
To
Sing
Them.
Spaeth.

6

Spaeth,
16.
Ending
No.
46.

V
V
?
?
#
#
#
#
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
Tenor 1
Tenor 2
Bass 1
Bass 2
œ
œ
œ # œ n
œ œ #
œ
œ
œ
œ n
œ œ b
œ
œ œ b
œ
w
w
w
w
[Title]
[Composer]

80

In
summary,
both
partsongs
exhibit
influences
of
barbershop
quartet
style
in

abundance.
These
influences,
as
codified
by
Spaeth,
include
the
use
of
strings
of

dominant
seventh
chords
over
a
circle
of
fifths
progression,
barbershop
minors,

pentatonic
melody,
barbershop
endings,
male
quartet
texture,
chromatically
sliding

harmonies,
and
swipes.
The
premise
that
African-‐American
harmonizing
influenced

Delius’s
‘American’
choral
music
rests
in
part
on
the
theory
that
the
harmonic

procedures
described
in
Sigmund
Spaeth’s
Barberhop
Ballads
and
How
To
Sing
Them

represent
a
reasonably
accurate
idea
of
how
black
quartets
harmonized
during
the

time
Delius
was
in
Florida.
This
is
a
bit
problematic,
as
the
first
edition
of
Spaeth’s

book
was
published
forty
years
after
Delius
lived
in
Florida.
However,
Vic
Hobson,

Gage
Averill,
James
Earl
Henry,
and
others
have
presented
a
convincing
body
of

evidence
that
African-‐American
quartet
harmonizing
was
also
a
major
influence
on

early
jazz
and
blues.
If
one
accepts
the
theory
that
jazz
and
blues
harmony
can
be

traced
to
black
quartet
harmonizing,
it
follows
that
some
similarities
should
be

found
between
Delius’s
‘American’
choral
music
and
choral
music
influenced
by
jazz.

In
the
next
chapter,
a
cappella
choral
music
of
Duke
Ellington
will
be
examined
for

links
to
quartet
harmonizing,
and
the
techniques
of
assimilation
by
Delius
and

Ellington
will
be
compared.

81

Chapter
4

Frederick
Delius
and
Duke
Ellington

The
year
1932
saw
two
important
events
in
the
emerging
career
of
Duke

Ellington,
and
both
involve
Frederick
Delius.

The
first
was
an
essay
entitled
“Black

Beauty”
by
R.
D.
Darrell
(1903-‐1988),
who
was
then
in
the
early
stages
of
a

distinguished
career
as
a
critic
of
music
recordings.
The
article
originally
appeared

in
the
June
1932
issue
of
the
magazine
disques
(a
periodical
primarily
devoted
to

recordings
of
new
classical
music),
and
is
widely
considered
to
be
the
first
in-‐depth

analysis
of
Ellington’s
music.
1

The
article
is
reprinted
in
The
Duke
Ellington
Reader,

along
with
a
brief
introductory
essay
by
the
editor
Mark
Tucker.

Mr.
Tucker
asserts

that
the
article
has
remained
one
of
the
most
important
studies
because
of
its

penetrating
insights,
along
with
the
author’s
foretelling
of
Ellington’s
distinguished

career.
2

Several
times
in
Darrell’s
article
Ellington
and
Delius
are
linked.

The
author

begins
by
writing
about
music
that
is
outsized
in
its
proportions
and
grandiose
–

even
bellicose
–
in
its
rhetoric.

Darrell
specifically
cites
Bruckner
and
Mahler
in
this

discussion,
and
contrasts
their
“dramatic
peaks”
with
the
personal
revelation
he

found
in
the
“pure
serenity
and
understatement”
of
Delius
and
the
budding
artist

Ellington.

Later
in
the
article
Darrell
explains
that
Ellington’s
music
was
not
like
the

jazz
he
was
accustomed
to,
saying:

It
had
nothing
of
the
sprightly
gusto
of
Gershwin
or
Kern,
nothing
of
the

polite
polish
of
the
Whiteman
school,
nothing
of
the
raucous
exuberance
of

the
Negro
jazz
I
had
known.

Nor
was
it
in
the
heavily
worked
‘spiritual’

tradition,
except
in
that
it
sounded
an
equal
depth
of
poignance.
For
all
its

fluidity
and
rhapsodic
freedom
it
was
no
improvisation,
tossed
off
by
a
group

of
talented
virtuosi
who
would
never
be
able
to
play
it
twice
in
the
same
way.

It
bore
the
indelible
stamp
of
one
mind,
resourcefully
inventive,
yet
primarily

occupied
not
with
the
projection
of
effects
or
syncopated
rhythms,
but
the

concern
of
great
music
–
tapping
the
inner
world
of
feeling
and
experience,

1

James
L.
Collier,
Duke
Ellington.
New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
1987,
99.

2

Mark
Tucker,
ed.,
The
Duke
Ellington
Reader.
New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
1993,
57.

82

‘realizing
a
temperament
without
describing
it,
with
the
mobility
of
the
soul,

with
the
swiftness
of
consecutive
moments
…
seizing
the
human
heart
with

that
intensity
which
is
independent
of
the
‘idea.’
3

One
can
read
this
with
the
knowledge
of
various
characterizations
of
the
music
of

Delius
and
immediately
notice
similarities.
Darrell’s
description
of
poignancy
and

rhapsodic
freedom
in
Ellington’s
music,
and
a
focus
on
emotion
and
feeling
without

the
outer
trappings
of
pictorial
description,
is
similar
to
descriptions
of
Delius’s

music
by
Heseltine,
Payne
and
others.

Darrell
also
says
that,
while
Ellington’s
music

comes
from
a
place
of
improvisation,
it
is
composed
music.
Aaron
Copland

underscored
this
idea
when
he
wrote:

…
[T]he
master
of
them
all
is
still
Duke
Ellington.
The
others,
by
comparison,

are
hardly
more
than
composer-‐arrangers.
Ellington
is
a
composer,
by
which

I
mean,
he
comes
nearer
to
knowing
how
to
make
a
piece
hang
together
than

the
others.
4

Darrell
doesn’t
make
an
explicit
comparison
between
Ellington
and
Delius
until
the

final
paragraph
of
the
essay,
when
he
writes
of
Ellington:

I
feel
it
no
blasphemy
to
say
of
him
as
[George]
Dyson
says
of
the
composer

[Frederick
Delius]
whom
I
revere
above
all
others
of
the
last
century:
‘He

does
not
distil
his
thought
into
a
single
line,
nor
into
a
striking
passage.
He
is

concerned
primarily
with
texture,
just
as
Bach
was.
It
is
sustained

atmosphere
he
seeks,
and
texture
is
his
approach
to
it
…
So
homogeneous
he

is
that
it
is
sometimes
hard
to
tell
where
folk
song
ends
and
Delius
begins.’
5

The
other
important
event
in
the
early
trajectory
of
Ellington’s
career
was
a

guest
appearance,
along
with
his
orchestra,
in
a
class
lecture
given
by
Percy

3

Robert
D.
Darrell,
“Black
Beauty”
(1932)
in
The
Duke
Ellington
Reader,
Mark
Tucker
ed.
New
York:

Oxford
University
Press,
1993,
58-‐9.

4

Aaron
Copland.
“Sources
and
Records.”
Modern
Music
(Jan.
Feb.
1938):
110.

5

Darrell,
64.

83

Grainger
at
New
York
University
on
October
25,
1932.
Mr.
Grainger
was
in
the
midst

of
a
year
appointment
as
professor
of
music
at
NYU,
in
which
capacity
he
held
a

series
of
lectures
entitled
‘A
General
Study
of
the
Manifold
Nature
of
Music.’
The

circumstances
that
led
to
the
appearance
of
Ellington
and
his
orchestra
in
a
class

lecture
(and
not
in
a
concert
for
a
wider
university
audience)
are
not
clear.

Laura

Rexroth,
in
her
essay
on
the
meeting
of
these
two
musicians,
cites
various
sources
in

support
of
the
hypothesis
that
Ellington’s
manager
Irving
Mills
set
up
the
visit
as

one
of
many
endeavors
he
undertook
to
promote
Ellington
as
a
serious
composer.
6

Grainger
was
a
proponent
of
jazz,
and
he
was
also
a
good
friend
and
admirer
of

Delius.

The
week
prior
Grainger,
in
preparation
for
Ellington’s
visit,
played
for
the

class
recordings
of
Delius’s
The
Walk
to
the
Paradise
Garden
(from
Romeo
and
Juliet)

and
Ellington’s
Creole
Love
Call
and
Creole
Rhapsody.

He
compared
the
evocation
of

moods
in
the
music
of
Delius
and
Ellington,
and
discussed
the
latter’s
use
of

“rapturous
moods,
sustained
melodiousness,
imitation
of
human
voice
by

instruments,
polyphonic
texture,
rhapsodic
improvisation
by
individual
players
of

the
orchestra.”
7

Grainger
also
quoted
from
the
Darrell
article
that
had
appeared
just

a
few
months
prior,
and
went
on
to
state
that
he
was
in
agreement
with
the
author’s

efforts
to
link
Delius
and
Ellington.
During
Ellington’s
visit
the
next
week,
Grainger

underscored
the
prior
week’s
points
regarding
rapturous
mood
in
both
composer’s

music,
and
stated
further
that
he
believed
there
was
a
substantial
harmonic

similarity
between
the
two.

Ellington
eventually
became
an
admirer
of
Delius’s
music,
though
he

maintained
that
Delius
or
any
other
classical
composer
he
appreciated
did
not

influence
him.
When
Ellington
heard
Grainger’s
comments
noting
the
harmonic

6

Laura
Rexroth,
“Black,
Brown,
and
‘Blue-‐eyed’
English.”
in
Wind
Band
Activity
in
and
Around
New

York
ca.
1830-‐1950,
Cipolla,
Frank
J.
and
Hunsberger,
Donald,
ed.
Van
Nuys,
CA:
Alfred
Music

Publishing,
2007,
76.

7

Rexroth,
83.

84

resemblance
between
the
two
he
reportedly
said
that
he’d
“have
to
find
out
about

this
Delius.”
8

Another
telling
of
the
same
story
says
that:

This
puzzled
Ellington
greatly
because
he
had
never
heard
Delius’s
name,
let

alone
his
music.
Not
being
a
man
of
narrow
culture,
the
band
leader
bought

all
the
available
records
of
Delius
and
had
many
of
the
English
Columbia

records
by
Beecham
imported.
He
listened
to
them
all
with
intense
interest.

Although
this
made
him
a
lifelong
lover
of
the
music
of
Delius,
it
did
not

convince
him
of
any
similarity
such
as
Grainger
had
suggested.
9

Less
than
a
year
after
his
guest
appearance
at
NYU,
Ellington
and
his
swing
band

toured
in
England,
brought
over
by
the
English
bandleader
Jack
Hylton
in

association
with
Mills.
This
was
Ellington’s
first
concertizing
foray
outside
the

United
States,
and
was
in
response
to
the
intense
interest
he
aroused
in
Europe.
The

British
jazz
violinist
Dick
De
Pauw
was
a
member
of
Hylton’s
band,
and
stated
in
an

interview:

The
Duke
has
developed
an
intense
regard
for
the
works
of
Delius
and
has

taken
back
to
America
a
whole
bundle
of
scores
to
study.
If
ever
he
gets
time

to
absorb
them
it
will
be
intensely
interesting
to
hear
the
reaction
of
one
of

the
world’s
most
refined
musicians.
10

There
were
others
who,
upon
reading
about
the
comparisons
Grainger
made

between
Delius
and
Ellington,
agreed.
The
British
writer
John
Cheatle,
as
part
of
the

press
coverage
of
Ellington’s
first
visit
to
England,
concurred
with
Grainger’s

assessment
that
there
were
similarities
in
the
chords
and
harmonic
progressions
of

the
two
composers.
11

Yet
Ellington’s
comments
in
response
to
these
comparisons
–

8

Wilder
Hobson,
“Introducing
Duke
Ellington”
(1933)
in
The
Duke
Ellington
Reader,
Mark
Tucker
ed.

New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
1993,
95.

9

John
Bird,
Percy
Grainger.
Sydney:
Currency
Press,
1998,
204.

10

James
L.
Collier,
Duke
Ellington.
New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
1987,
148.

11

Barry
Ulanov,
Duke
Ellington.
1946.
Reprint,
New
York:
Da
Capo
Press,
1975,
144.

85

especially
those
made
in
the
aftermath
of
the
Grainger
lecture
–
are
important
to

consider.
They
show
that
any
perceived
similarities
were
not
a
result
of
intentional

assimilation
or
imitation,
for
Ellington
didn’t
become
familiar
with
Delius’s
music

until
after
he
had
toured
England
for
the
first
time.

Throughout
his
life
Ellington
downplayed
the
influence
of
European
classical

traditions
on
his
music.
Rather,
Ellington
described
his
music
as
‘racial’
music,

saying
“…
The
characteristic
melancholy
music
of
my
race
has
been
forged
from
the

whiteheat
of
our
sorrows,
and
from
our
gropings
after
something
tangible
in
the

primitiveness
of
our
lives
in
the
early
days
of
our
American
occupation.”
12

Many
of

Ellington’s
works
sought
to
portray
various
aspects
of
the
African-‐American

experience,
including
the
works
Grainger
chose
to
discuss
in
his
lecture.
While
never

an
overt
crusader,
Ellington
subtly
advanced
the
civil
rights
movement
with

compositions
like
his
most
extended
work
Black,
Brown
and
Beige
and
especially
his

stage
work
My
People.
He
was
conscious
enough
of
the
heritage
of
his
music
that
he

waved
the
banner
for
African-‐American
musical
achievement
during
his
European

tours,
and
yet
for
many
years
refused
to
appear
in
concert
in
the
South.

Ellington’s
music,
which
he
called
‘American’
music
instead
of
jazz,
was

nevertheless
rooted
in
the
jazz
that
emerged
from
New
Orleans
in
the
first
decades

of
the
twentieth
century.
The
origins
of
jazz
have
been
hotly
debated,
but
until

recently
barbershop
quartet
singing
was
not
considered
to
be
a
major
factor.
Vic

Hobson
changed
that
with
his
carefully
researched
conclusion
that
barbershop

quartet
singing
influenced
the
collective
improvisation
of
early
jazz,
as
well
as
its

harmonic
language.
He
observed
that
early
commentators
noted
the
differences
in

harmony
between
ragtime
and
jazz,
and
he
further
noted
that
this
jazz
was

polyphonically
oriented,
as
opposed
to
ragtime.
13

Hobson
theorized
that
many
of
the

early
jazz
instrumentalists
carried
over
what
they
learned
when
they
improvised

their
individual
vocal
lines
in
quartets
and
utilized
these
skills
in
their
playing.

12

Ibid.,
144.

13

Vic
Hobson,
Creating
Jazz
Counterpoint:
New
Orleans,
Barbershop
Harmony,
and
the
Blues.
Jackson:

University
Press
of
Mississippi,
2014,
18.
Hobson
states
that
this
polyphony
has
been
referred
to
by

writers
as
‘jazz
counterpoint.’

86

Finally,
Hobson
discovered
that
all
of
the
major
New
Orleans
jazz
pioneers
sang
in

quartets
as
boys,
including
Louis
Armstrong,
Jelly
Roll
Morton,
the
clarinetist
Johnny

Dodds,
the
trumpeter
Lee
Collins,
and
Buddy
Bolden.
He
shares
an
amusing

anecdote
from
Jelly
Roll
Morton:

Those
days
I
belonged
to
a
quartet.
And
we,
of
course,
we
specialized
in

spirituals
for
the
purpose
of
finding
somebody
that
was
dead.
And
could
sing

‘em
too,
I’m
telling
you.
The
minute
we’d
walk
in
–
of
course,
we’d
have
our

correct
invitation
–
and
that
would
be
right
to
the
kitchen
where
all
the
food

was.
14

New
Orleans
jazz,
as
well
as
blues
harmony,
eventually
spread
northward,
finding

its
apotheosis
in
the
nightlife
and
dance
halls
of
New
York
City.
It
was
from
this

scene
that
Duke
Ellington
would
emerge
in
the
1920s,
going
on
to
become
a

renowned
bandleader,
composer
and
arranger.

A
substantial
portion
of
Ellington’s
choral
music
can
be
found
in
the
three

Sacred
Concerts,
written
late
in
his
life.
The
choral
material
within
these
three
works

draws
upon
the
richness
of
his
musical
experience
for
its
variety
of
expression
and

sentiment.
The
Sacred
Concerts
cannot
be
considered
choral
works,
even
though

they
are
usually
performed
by
choral
organizations.
Rather,
they
are
extended
jazz

suites
in
which
the
chorus
only
rarely
comes
to
the
foreground.

The
early
performance
history
of
the
Sacred
Concerts
is
a
convoluted
one.

Ellington
constantly
revised
the
parts
from
one
performance
to
the
next.

Complicating
things
even
further,
many
of
the
parts
are
in
the
hands
of
private

estates,
and
unavailable
for
public
viewing.
There
are
various
arrangements
of

material
from
the
Sacred
Concerts
both
for
sale
and
for
rental,
and
they
vary
greatly

in
their
arrangement
and
inclusion
of
numbers.
Fortunately,
there
is
an
invaluable

resource
at
the
Smithsonian
National
Museum
of
American
History,
and
that
is
the

William
T.
Russo
Collection.
Mr.
Russo
was
a
well-‐known
jazz
composer
and

arranger,
and
founded
the
music
department
of
Columbia
College
Chicago.
His
band,

14

Hobson,
Creating
Jazz
Counterpoint,
New
Orleans,
Barbershop
Harmony,
and
the
Blues,
57.

87

The
Chicago
Jazz
Ensemble,
was
the
first
band
other
than
Ellington’s
to
perform

music
from
the
Sacred
Concerts.
15

For
this
1967
performance
Ellington
gave
Russo

scores
and
parts
to
the
first
Sacred
Concert,
and
was
closely
involved
in
the

rehearsal
process.
(see
Appendix
B.)

16

Much
of
the
material
from
this
collaboration

is
now
in
the
William
T.
Russo
Collection
at
the
National
Museum
of
American

History.
17

The
first
Sacred
Concert
(1965)
was
commissioned
by
Grace
Cathedral
in
San

Francisco
as
part
of
a
series
of
cultural
events
to
celebrate
its
opening.
A
significant

portion
was
borrowed
from
earlier
works;
four
of
the
ten
movements
were

borrowed
from
My
People
(1963),
and
another
(‘Come
Sunday’)
was
taken
from

Black,
Brown
and
Beige
(1943).
Most
of
the
choral
material
was
conceived
for
unison

singing
or
rhythmic
speaking.
There
is
some
choral
material
that
comes
from
the

tradition
of
back-‐up
singing,
that
is,
one
singer
on
a
part.
There
is
only
one
truly

choral
movement
in
the
first
Sacred
Concert,
and
that
is
‘Will
You
Be
There.’
This

movement
was
borrowed
from
My
People,
and
was
performed
by
one
singer
on
a

part
in
the
original
stage
show.
There
are
two
versions
of
the
same
music
in
the

Russo
Collection.
One
is
the
familiar
transcription
from
the
first
official
RCA
Victor

recording
by
Randall
Keith
Horton,
and
the
other
is
a
handwritten
slight
variant.

(see
Appendix
C.)

‘Will
You
Be
There’
exhibits
similarities
both
to
conventions
of
barbershop

singing
and
to
harmonic
characteristics
of
Delius’s
‘American’
choral
works.
The

most
prominent
harmonic
features
of
the
opening
phrase
are
its
chordal
text
setting

and
the
chromatic
harmony.
The
movement
is
a
cappella,
and
is
laden
throughout

with
downward
sliding
harmony,
similar
to
that
often
seen
in
Delius’s
music

(Example
4.1).

15

Jeffrey
Sultanof,
“Jazz
Repertory”
in
The
Oxford
Companion
to
Jazz,
Bill
Kirchner,
ed.
New
York:

Oxford
University
Press,
2000,
518.

16

Accessed
April
11,
2015
http://www.downbeat.com/?sect=news&subsect=news_detail&nid=31

17

The
loosely
organized
collection
also
contains
arrangements
and
parts
for
the
other
two
Sacred

Concerts.
This
music
is
from
later
programs
that
Russo
performed,
independent
of
any
collaboration

with
Ellington.

88

Example
4.1

First
Sacred
Concert,
Duke
Ellington,
‘Will
You
Be
There?,’
mm.
1-‐5.

Besides
the
harmony,
the
other
prominent
feature
of
the
music
derived
from

barbershop
style
is
the
use
of
echo
singing.
One
might
also
consider
this
as
a
form
of

call
and
response.
The
echo
in
barbershop
style
is
likely
related
to
call
and
response

singing
in
black
hymns
and
gospel
music.
The
short
piece
ends
with
a
sixth
chord,
a

chord
that
Delius
also
concludes
several
of
his
compositions
with,
including

the
first
of
the
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs
as
well
as
Sea
Drift
(though
in
Sea

Drift
the
sixth
moves
to
the
fifth,
creating
a
tonic
triad.)

The
most
concentrated
collection
of
choral
music
to
be
found
in
the
Sacred

Concerts
consists
of
several
settings
of
‘The
Lord’s
Prayer,’
intended
for
the
third

Sacred
Concert
(1973),
as
part
of
the
movement
‘Every
Man
Prays
in
His
Own

Language.’
18

There
are
two
settings
for
SATB
a
cappella
chorus,
and
their
major

difference,
considered
from
a
practical
viewpoint,
is
that
one
setting
contains
divisi

and
one
does
not.
The
Russo
collection
additionally
contains
a
manuscript
of
music

18

Thomas
Lloyd,
“The
Revival
Of
An
Early
‘Crossover’
Masterwork:
Duke
Ellington’s
Sacred

Concerts.”
The
Choral
Journal,
Vol.
49
Issue
11
(May
2009):
24.
The
third
Sacred
Concert
was
written

to
be
performed
in
Westminster
Abbey,
with
its
extremely
reverberant
acoustic.
No
doubt
this
was
a

factor
in
the
overall
slow
tempi
of
the
movements.
Many
commentators
have
noted
the
pacing
of
the

movements,
and
connected
it
to
Ellington’s
preoccupation
with
his
own
mortality.

89

for
strings
entitled
‘The
Lord’s
Prayer.’
At
the
end
of
the
manuscript
is
a
choral

‘Amen,’
but
this
is
the
only
vocal
music
in
an
otherwise
instrumental
number.
19

The
divisi
version
of
‘Our
Father’
is
the
most
chromatic
of
all
the
choral
music

in
the
Sacred
Concerts.
The
usage
of
sliding
chromatic
harmonies
in
‘Will
You
Be

There’
is
extended
in
this
piece,
amplified
by
frequent
divisi
in
the
soprano,
tenor

and
bass
parts.
The
vocal
lines
generally
follow
the
direction
of
the
chromatically

descending
bass
part,
which
continuously
slides
downward
only
to
rise
up
and

descend
again.
The
ambiguous
yet
arresting
nature
of
the
harmony
results
in
a
lack

of
formal
cadences.
Ellington
comes
the
closest
to
a
formal
cadence
in
mm.
8-‐11

(Example
4.2).
These
four
measures
are
built
on
a
circle
of
fifths
progression
in
the

bass
line
(B♭,
E♭,
A♭,
D♭,
G♭),
which
is
a
break
in
the
otherwise
constant
chromatic

motion
of
the
bass
part.

19

The
number
of
string
chords
and
the
number
of
syllables
in
the
traditional
‘Our
Father,
which
art
in

heaven’
text
perfectly
align,
from
the
beginning
to
the
‘Amen.’

90

Example
4.2
Third
Sacred
Concert,
Duke
Ellington,
‘Lord’s
Prayer,’
mm.
8-‐15.

(Transcribed
from
an
unattributed
choral
score,
collection
415,
box
24,
folder
2
/

William
T.
Russo
Collection,
Smithsonian
National
Museum
of
American
History)

There
are
seventh
chords
in
mm.
8-‐11,
as
well
as
chords
that
are
suggestive
of

seventh
chords
but
otherwise
difficult
to
classify.
In
these
four
measures
Ellington

uses
a
technique
that
is
similar
in
effect
to
the
use
of
barbershop
minors,
though
it
is

highly
individualized.
On
the
last
beat
of
m.
8
a
G ♮
appears,
which
serves
as
a

chromatic
passing
tone
to
a
V
dominant
seventh
chord.
While
the
G
is
flatted
on
the

downbeat
of
the
next
bar,
the
actual
dominant
seventh
chord
doesn’t
appear
until

the
second
beat,
and
even
then
it
is
only
implied,
as
the
fifth
of
the
chord
(E♭) is
left

out.
This
is
the
only
dominant
seventh
sonority
in
the
entire
circle
of
fifths

progression.
Ellington
fills
out
the
passage
with
other
chords
tinged
with
touches
of

chromaticism
and
suggestive
of
seventh
chord
harmonies.

&
&
V
?
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
4
Soprano
Alto
Tenor
Bass
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ n
earth as it is in
œ œ œ
œ œ
œ œ œ
œ
œ
earth as it is in
œ œ œ
œ œ
˙
˙
˙
˙
hea ven,
˙ ˙
˙ ˙
hea ven,
˙
˙
œ b œ œ
œ œ
3
Give us this day our
œ œ œ
œ œ
3
œ œ
œ n
œ b œ
3
Give us this day our
œ œ œ
œ œ
3
œ œ
œ œ
‰
œ
œ œ
œ
3
dai ly bread and for
œ œ
œ œ
‰ œ
œ
3
œ œ
œ n œ
‰
œ
œ
3
dai ly bread and for
œ œ
œ
J
œ
‰ Œ
3
-
-
-
-
-
-
&
&
V
?
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
b
S
A
T
B
œ
œ
˙
˙
œ
œ
give us our
œ ˙
œ
œ ˙
œ
give us our
!
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ Ó
3
tres pass es
œ œ
œ
Ó
3
œ œ
œ
‰
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
3
tres pass es as we for
Ó ‰
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
!
!
œ
œ
˙
˙
œ
œ
give those who
œ
œ
˙
˙
œ
œ
Ó Œ œ
œ
and
Ó Œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
3
tres pass a gainst us
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
œ
3
- -
- - - - -
Ellington divisi Lord's Prayer mm 8-15
[Composer]

91

Ellington,
like
Delius,
was
a
harmonist,
and
like
Delius
he
generally
conceived

music
as
piano
chords.
20

He
often
led
band
rehearsals
from
the
keyboard,

improvising
chords
as
part
of
the
collective
creating
process.
Ellington’s
chord

constructions
were
highly
individual
and
daring,
but
he
always
composed
with
his

top-‐notch
players
in
mind,
knowing
they
could
play
just
about
anything
he
created.

The
strong
similarity
to
some
of
Delius’s
‘American’
music
can
be
seen
in
the
falling

chromatic
lines
and
the
concurrent
rich
vocabulary
of
seventh
chords,
augmented

and
diminished
sonorities,
and
other
chords
that
are
more
challenging
to
classify.

Ellington’s
singular
place
in
the
history
of
jazz
is
a
product
of
genius
blended

with
an
acute
awareness
of
his
racial
heritage.
He
had
little
formal
training,
though

he
was
naturally
inquisitive
all
his
life.
Will
Marion
Cook
(1869-‐1944),
a
composer

and
violinist
who
studied
with
Dvořák
at
the
National
Conservatory
of
Music,
was

one
of
two
people
Ellington
considered
a
musical
mentor.
Ellington
recalled
how

Cook
would
typically
answer
when
he
would
ask
him
a
question
about
composition:

‘You
know
you
should
go
to
the
conservatory,’
he
would
answer,
‘but
since

you
won’t,
I’ll
tell
you.
First
you
find
the
logical
way,
and
when
you
find
it,

avoid
it,
and
let
your
inner
self
break
through
and
guide
you.
Don’t
try
to
be

anybody
else
but
yourself.’
21

Ellington’s
other
mentor
was
the
composer/arranger
Will
Vodery
(1885-‐1951).
Like

Cook,
Vodery
was
a
well-‐connected
and
admired
figure
of
the
musical
theater
scene

in
New
York
City,
regarded
especially
for
his
advocacy
of
young
black
musicians.
22

Ellington
credited
Vodery,
who
was
classically
trained
and
had
a
discriminating
ear,

with
teaching
him
almost
everything
he
knew
about
orchestration,
and
a
great
deal

about
harmony
as
well.
Barry
Ulanov,
in
his
biography
on
Ellington,
said:

20

Wilder
Hobson,
“Introducing
Duke
Ellington”
(1933)
in
The
Duke
Ellington
Reader,
Mark
Tucker
ed.

New
York:
Oxford
University
Press,
1993,
97.

21

Edward
Kennedy
Ellington,
Music
is
My
Mistress.
New
York:
Doubleday,
1973,
97.

22

Southern,
348

92

From
Vodery,
as
he
says
himself,
he
drew
his
chromatic
convictions,
his
use

of
the
tones
ordinarily
extraneous
to
the
diatonic
scale,
with
the
consequent

alteration
of
the
harmonic
character
of
his
music,
its
broadening,
the

deepening
of
his
resources.
23

Vodery
was
also
known
for
his
ability
to
imbue
orchestrations
with
an
authentic

sense
of
African-‐American
rhythmic
quality.
The
composer
and
bandleader
Noble

Sissle
(1889-‐1975)
credited
Vodery
with,
“…
solving
the
problem
of
getting
theater

orchestras
to
play
with
African-‐American
rhythmic
inflections.”
24

Vodery
was
a
versatile
musician
who
wore
many
hats
in
his
career,
which

included
a
twenty-‐year
stint
as
an
arranger
for
Ziegfeld
Follies.
One
of
his
more

outstanding
achievements
was
his
work
as
an
arranger
on
the
first
production
of
the

Kern
and
Hammerstein
musical
Showboat
(1927).
The
musical
is
based
on
a
novel

by
Edna
Ferber
of
the
same
name,
and
contains
a
depiction
of
black
workers
set
in
a

time
frame
between
1887
and
1927.
For
the
production
Vodery
was
in
charge
of

organizing
a
black
chorus,
which
he
named
the
‘Will
Vodery’s
Jubilee
Singers.’
25

He

rehearsed
the
ensemble
of
forty-‐four
singers,
and
arranged
their
numbers.
One
of

the
most
famous
songs
of
the
musical
is
‘Ol’
Man
River,’
later
to
be
associated
with

Paul
Robeson
but
sung
at
the
first
performance
by
Jules
Bledsoe.
Embedded
within

the
song
is
music
for
a
TTBB
chorus,
which
sings
a
harmonized
version
of
the

pentatonic
melody
(Example
4.3).
The
harmonization
is
not
particularly
chromatic

and
does
not
contain
extraordinary
chords,
but
elements
of
barbershop
singing
can

be
seen,
particularly
in
the
plagal
cadence
(often
used
with
pentatonic
melodies),

the
barbershop
ending,
and
the
way
in
which
diminished
and
seventh
chords
are

used.
Vodery’s
orchestral
accompaniment
for
the
male
quartet
texture
is
slightly

more
chromatic,
featuring
passing
semitones
and
blue
notes.
‘Ol’
Man
River’
occurs

23

Ulanov,
195.

24

Mark
Tucker,
“In
Search
of
Will
Vodery.”
Black
Music
Research
Journal
Vol.
16,
Issue
1:
125.

25

Scott
McMillin,
“Paul
Robeson,
Will
Vodery’s
‘Jubilee
Singers,’
and
the
Earliest
Script
of
the
Kern-‐
Hammerstein
Showboat.”
Theatre
Survey
Vol.
41,
no.
2
(November
2000),
64.
The
musical
contains

chorus
numbers
for
both
black
and
white
choruses.

93

in
the
first
scene,
which
takes
place
in
the
year
1887
(approximately
three
years

after
Delius’s
sojourn
in
Florida).
While
the
music
throughout
the
show
is
of
a

consistent
style,
there
are
nods
to
historical
accuracy
in
the
different
decades

depicted
in
the
script.
‘Ol
Man
River’
is
arranged
in
a
style
intended
to
evoke
the

singing
of
workers
in
the
South
in
the
late
nineteenth
century,
while
the
Charleston

version
of
‘Why
Do
I
Love
You?’
in
Act
II
is
representative
of
the
music
of
1927,
the

year
of
that
particular
scene.

94

Example
4.3

Showboat,
Act
I,
‘Ol’
Man
River,’
from
the
first
production
(1927),
Kern

and
Hammerstein,
mm.
66-‐74.

95

Several
numbers
from
Showboat
became
hits
in
their
own
right,
including

‘Can’t
Help
Lovin’
Dat
Man,’
‘Ol’
Man
River,’
and
‘Make
Believe.’
Many
artists

recorded
‘Ol’
Man
River’,
including
The
Revelers,
a
famous
male
quintet
in
the

96

1920’s
and
30’s.
26

The
Revelers’
1928
RCA
Victor
recording
of
‘Ol
Man
River’
is
sung

throughout
in
close
harmony,
and
many
of
the
typical
barbershop
chords
and

techniques
can
be
heard.
The
harmony
is
considerably
more
complex
and
chromatic

than
Vodery’s
arrangement,
and
there
are
frequent
swoops
and
glides
(a
common

feature
in
the
Revelers’
singing
style).
The
dialect
is
so
convincing
that
one
would

think
the
singers
were
African-‐American,
but
in
fact
the
Revelers
were
a
white

quintet
(a
male
vocal
quartet
and
piano
accompanist).
Eric
Fenby
related
an

anecdote
in
his
book
on
Delius
regarding
this
recording.
After
dinner
one
evening,

Delius,
his
wife
Jelka
and
Fenby
listened
to
a
radio
broadcast
of
Beecham
conducting

Brigg
Fair.
Delius,
after
highly
praising
Beecham’s
performance,
decided
to
listen
to

something
entirely
different:

‘…
Now
let’s
clear
the
air
and
play
that
record
of
the
Revellers
–
“Ol’
Man

River.”
This
and
other
such
records
gave
him
great
pleasure,
for
the
singing

was
reminiscent
of
the
way
his
negroes
used
to
sing
out
in
Florida,
when
as
a

young
orange-‐planter
he
had
often
sat
up
far
into
the
night,
smoking
cigar

after
cigar,
and
listening
to
their
subtle
improvisations
in
harmony.
“They

showed
a
truly
wonderful
sense
of
musicianship
and
harmonic
resource
in

the
instinctive
way
in
which
they
treated
a
melody,”
he
added,
“and,
hearing

their
singing
in
such
romantic
surroundings,
it
was
then
and
there
that
I
first

felt
the
urge
to
express
myself
in
music.’
27

When
considered
alongside
Delius’s
remark
to
Elgar
about
hearing
black
workers

singing
in
four-‐part
harmony,
this
anecdote
is
significant,
for
it
directly
connects

Delius
to
African-‐American
close
harmony
male
quartet
singing.
The
sound
of
this

sonority,
which
Delius
likely
heard
often,
seemingly
left
an
indelible
mark
on
the

young,
impressionable
musician,
as
it
also
did
on
the
Johnson
brothers
of

Jacksonville
and
the
jazz
pioneers
of
New
Orleans.
James
Weldon
Johnson
and
John

Rosamond
Johnson
moved
on
from
Jacksonville
to
New
York
City,
where
they

circulated
within
the
elite
African-‐American
musical
community
of
the
Harlem

Renaissance.
Louis
Armstrong
and
Jelly
Roll
Morton,
who
sang
in
quartets
as
young

26

RCA
Victor
LSP-‐3582
(1966).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zQONO9_O_k
accessed
July
28,

2015

27

Fenby,
25.

97

boys
in
New
Orleans,
also
spent
time
in
New
York
City.
These
individuals
were
part

of
an
African-‐American
musical
community
that
included
Will
Marion
Cook,
Eubie

Blake,
Buddy
Gilmore
and
Will
Vodery.
Vodery
became
a
mentor
to
Duke
Ellington,

and
thus
passed
a
rich
African-‐American
musical
tradition
on
to
the
young

bandleader.
Duke
Ellington
became
one
of
the
greatest
jazz
composers
of
the

twentieth
century,
always
ready
to
promote
his
‘American’
and
‘racial’
music.
All
of

these
African-‐American
musicians
were
affected
by
the
earlier
widespread
pastime

of
close
harmony
singing
among
black
men.
And
yet
Delius,
after
his
New
World

experience,
developed
into
an
idiosyncratic
composer
associated
with
the
English

school
of
composers
of
the
early
twentieth
century,
with
only
a
passing
mention

made
of
his
time
in
Florida
and
Virginia
and
his
experience
with
African-‐American

music
there.

98

Conclusion

Desert
Island
Discs
is
a
long-‐running
program
on
BBC
Radio
that
has
been

featuring
interviews
of
well-‐known
British
personalities
since
1942.
One
of
the

curiosities
of
the
program
is
a
segment
called
‘Desert
Island
Discs,’
in
which
the

guest
is
asked
what
eight
recordings
he/she
would
take
if
they
were
to
be
cast
away

on
a
desert
island.
A
book
was
written
by
the
show’s
creator,
Roy
Plomley,
in

collaboration
with
Derek
Drescher,
which
compiled
guest’s
selections
from
1942
to

1982.
1

Over
the
forty-‐year
span
seventy-‐one
interviewees
chose
a
recording
of
a

work
by
Delius,
including
the
tenor
Peter
Pears,
the
cellist
Julian
Lloyd
Webber,

actor
and
director
Nigel
Patrick,
actor
and
comedian
Peter
Sellers,
and
the
politician

Lord
William
Boothby.
The
top
five
pieces
selected
were:
The
Walk
to
the
Paradise

Garden,
On
Hearing
the
First
Cuckoo
in
Spring,
‘Serenade’
from
Hassan,
La
Calinda

from
Koanga,
and
Brigg
Fair.
In
fact,
only
two
out
of
the
seventy-‐one
people
chose
a

choral
work;
one
of
the
choral
selections
was
Part
I
of
A
Mass
of
Life,
and
the
other

was
the
afore-‐mentioned
excerpt
from
Koanga.

The
survey
highlights
a
facet
of
Delius’s
reputation,
and
that
is
his

characterization
as
a
composer
of
orchestral
miniatures,
often
with
a
decidedly

‘English’
sound.
This
phenomenon
is
not
confined
to
England,
as
evidenced
by
Duke

Ellington’s
selection
of
In
A
Summer
Garden
as
one
of
his
favorite
Delius
works.

2

The

body
of
scholarship
up
to
the
present
time
reflects
this
aspect
of
Delius’s
enduring

reputation.
Most
of
the
Delian
research
has
focused
on
the
instrumental
works,
and

when
the
songs
and
choral
works
have
been
examined,
the
analysis
and

commentary
has
often
been
limited
to
instrumental
aspects
of
the
works.
An

example
of
this
is
the
article
cited
in
the
introduction
by
Vic
Hobson,
“Plantation

Song:
Delius,
Barbershop,
and
the
Blues.”
Hobson
chose
to
use
Delius’s
early
work

The
Florida
Suite
to
illustrate
his
thesis
that
one
could
study
Delius’s
music
and
find

accurate
depictions
of
black
barbershop
harmonizing,
in
the
absence
of

1

Bill
Thompson,
“Desert
Island
Discs.”
The
Delius
Society
Journal
No.
146
(Autumn
2009):
95.

2

Tucker,
ed.
The
Duke
Ellington
Reader,
268-‐69.

99

transcriptions
that
notated
this
improvised
music.
However,
since
there
is
vocal

music
that
contains
more
pertinent
material
for
such
a
theory
(as
in
the
music
the

workers
sing
in
Koanga),
it
would
seem
that
an
approach
that
investigates
Delius’s

vocal
writing
would
yield
more
applicable
insight.

The
issues
related
to
studying
African-‐American
influence
in
Delius’s
music

are
many,
and
are
complex
and
intertwined.
A
general
issue
is
the
lack
of
knowledge

or
unfamiliarity
with
African-‐American
music
by
those
trained
in
the
European

conservatory
model
of
music
education.
Many
of
those
who
have
researched
the

influence
of
African-‐American
music
on
the
music
of
classical
composers
have
come

from
this
background,
creating
the
potential
for
misinformed
scholarship.
Another

factor
is
the
cross-‐pollination
of
performance
traditions
within
the
black
musical

community.
Gage
Averill
expressed
this
eloquently
when
he
said:

Most
important,
no
form
of
harmony,
close
or
otherwise,
was
hermetically

sealed
off
from
the
others.
Harmonized
spirituals,
plantation
ballads,

sentimental
parlor
songs
(“hearth-‐and-‐home”
songs),
comic
ditties,
work

songs,
glees,
and
novelty
songs
such
as
the
impersonations
of
animal
and

industrial
sounds
were
all
available
to
–
and
popular
with
–
the
range
of

quartet
formations.
Even
the
Fisk
Jubilee
Singers
were
not
entirely
immune

to
the
attractions
of
the
popular
minstrel
repertory.
Throughout
the

nineteenth
century,
therefore,
close
harmony
was
already
a
seasoned

traveler
between
popular
culture
contexts
and
home
and
recreational

settings,
and
what
would
become
known
as
barbershop
harmony

incorporated
repertory
from
minstrelsy,
parlor
songs,
spirituals,
and
early

Tin
Pan
Alley
and
ragtime
songs.
3

Minstrelsy
seems
to
have
been
the
most
common
agent
for
transmitting
multiple

strains
of
vocal
performance
traditions
in
the
latter
part
of
the
nineteenth
century.

What
Averill
says
about
the
nineteenth
century
applies
to
the
early
twentieth

century
as
well,
particularly
with
the
advent
of
recorded
music.
Indeed,
one
of
the

secondary
themes
in
Showboat
is
that
of
black
musicians
teaching
the
white
people

their
music,
or
seeing
their
songs
being
appropriated
by
whites.
Yet
it
remains
true

3

Averill,
47-‐48.

100

that
the
‘cracking’
of
chords
that
quartets
engaged
in
was
unique
phenomenon

among
black
musicians,
as
proven
by
Lynn
Abbott
and
Vic
Hobson.

Other
issues
that
factor
in
the
difficulty
of
researching
African-‐American

music
of
the
late
nineteenth
century
include
a
rejection
of
black
quartet
singing
by
a

segment
of
the
black
intelligentsia
of
the
time,
racism,
and
a
bias
favoring
rhythm
as

the
most
developed
and
unique
aspect
of
African-‐American
music.
African-‐American

writers
and
scholars
such
as
William
DuBois
and
Alain
Locke
argued
for
the

cultivation
of
idioms
of
music
that
would
fit
into
a
narrative
of
upward
mobility
for

blacks.
4

They
promoted
the
singing
of
concertized
spirituals,
and
felt
that
the
music

of
most
social
quartets
was
at
best
unseemly
and
at
worst
degenerate.
This
low

opinion
extended
to
the
lyrics
as
well
as
the
music.
The
touring
‘jubilee’
ensembles

such
as
the
Fisk
University
Jubilee
Singers
exemplified
the
ideal
of
concertized

music
that
could
be
used
to
lift
black
music
up
and
make
it
worthy
of
being

considered
as
a
respectable
art
form.
In
Europe,
the
concertized
spiritual
was
the

most
admired
form
of
black
music
until
after
World
War
I,
when
jazz
took
hold.

After
the
war,
many
in
Europe
saw
the
United
States
as
the
standard
for
a
modern

society,
and
likewise
saw
jazz
as
the
form
of
music
that
most
epitomized
this

vitality.
5

Even
though
the
performance
of
concert
spirituals
receded
to
the

background,
it
did
not
lose
its
cachet.
Perhaps
this
reputation
is
led
Philip
Jones
to

write
in
1984
that
the
spiritual
was
the
primary
source
of
African-‐American

influence
in
Delius’s
music.
6

Immediately
before
his
statement
Jones
quotes
Delius’s

comment
to
Elgar
about
hearing
four-‐part
harmony
from
his
verandah,
and

subsequently
says
that
this
is
typical
of
the
black
spiritual.
What
almost
nobody

knew
until
recently
was
the
prevalence,
even
dominance,
of
improvised
close

harmony
sung
socially
by
African-‐American
quartets
as
they
went
about
their
daily

lives.

4

Webb,
68-‐69.

5

Peter
J.
Burkholder,
“Music
of
the
Americas
and
Historical
Narratives.”
American
Music
27
[4]

(2009):
416.

6

Philip
Jones,
“Delius
and
America:
A
New
Perspective.”
The
Musical
Times,
Vol.
125,
No.
1702

(Dec.,

1984):
701-‐702.
Reprint,
The
Delius
Society
Journal
No.
90
(Summer,
1986):
10.

101

Racism
has
been
a
constant
factor
in
the
promotion
or
repression
of
African-‐
American
music.
The
manifestation
of
this
in
regards
to
black
harmonizing
was
that

by
the
second
decade
of
the
twentieth
century
white
singers
had
appropriated

barbershop
singing.
For
decades
the
Barbershop
Harmony
Society
excluded
blacks

from
membership,
and
it
has
not
been
until
the
last
twenty
years
that
the
African-‐
American
origins
of
barbershop
singing
have
been
recognized.
Related
to
the
bias

against
African-‐harmonizing
was
the
propping
up
of
rhythm
as
the
most
unique
and

most
‘African’
element
of
the
music
blacks
made.
For
many
years
jazz
was
music
for

dancing,
and
before
that
rhythms
perhaps
derived
from
West
Indian
music
were

danced
to
in
New
Orleans.
7

This
helped
to
feed
the
notion
of
‘hot’
rhythm
as
being

exclusive
to
African-‐American
music.
Walter
Goldstein,
in
the
same
essay
cited
in

the
introduction,
wrote:

We
sometimes
speak
of
Chopin
and
Schumann
as
“refined
rhythmists.”
They

were
the
first
to
delve
into
the
subtleties
of
metrics,
thus
giving
the
cue
to
a

host
of
moderns
and
ultramoderns
whose
experiments
in
rhythm
have

greatly
enriched
the
art.
But
the
rhythmic
achievements
of
these
super-‐
trained
and
super-‐cultivated
moderns
are
the
work
of
children,
if
we
are
to

believe
the
following
interesting
report
of
an
observer
commenting
upon
the

performance
of
the
Dahoman
musicians
at
the
World’s
Fair.
He
says,
“The

players
showed
the
most
remarkable
rhythmic
sense
and
skill
that
ever
came

under
my
notice.
Berlioz
in
his
supremest
effort
with
his
army
of
drummers

produced
nothing
to
compare
in
artistic
interest
with
the
harmonious

drumming
of
these
savages.
The
fundamental
effect
was
a
combination
of

double
and
triple
time,
the
former
kept
by
the
singers,
the
latter
by
the

drummers,
but
it
is
impossible
to
convey
the
idea
of
the
wealth
of
detail

achieved
by
the
drummers
by
means
of
exchange
of
the
rhythms,

syncopation
of
both
simultaneously,
and
dynamic
devices.
8

Goldstein
prefaced
this
by
saying,
“If
the
Negro’s
harmony,
per
se,
is
uninteresting,

the
same
can
by
no
means
be
said
of
his
rhythm.”
9

This
attitude
was
common,
and

7

Lawrence
Gushee,
“The
Nineteenth-‐Century
Origins
of
Jazz.”
Black
Music
Research
Journal
Vol.
22,

Supplement:
Best
of
Black
Music
Research
Journal
(2002):
154-‐55.

8

Goldstein,
31-‐32.

9

Goldstein,
31

102

helped
to
suppress
any
serious
consideration
of
the
merits
of
idiomatic
African-‐
American
harmonizing.

It
is
regrettable
that
Delius’s
illustrious
and
erudite
acquaintances
would

hear
his
remarks
about
African-‐American
harmonizing
and
consider
them
little

more
than
nostalgic
reminiscences.
Yet
it
is
understandable,
given
all
the
factors

that
have
led
to
an
underestimation
of
the
influence
of
black
harmonizing
on

Delius’s
music.
It
can
now
be
asserted
that
the
influence
of
African-‐American
music

on
Delius’s
music
is
substantial,
and
finds
its
most
potent
expression
in
the
influence

of
improvised
close
harmony
black
quartet
singing
on
the
choral
music
of
the

‘American’
works.
This
thesis
is
supported
by
Delius’s
frequent
use
of
a
TTBB

texture
in
these
works
coupled
with
significant
use
of
close
harmony,
the
exclusive

use
of
male
solos,
his
application
of
barbershop
voice
leading
techniques,
and
the

appropriateness
of
all
of
these
characteristics
to
the
particular
music
in
which
it
is

found.
Additionally,
the
comments
attributed
to
Delius
show
that
unlike
Dvořák,
he

was
relatively
unconcerned
about
the
repertory
of
African-‐American
tunes.
Rather,

he
was
fascinated
by
how
blacks
harmonized
these
tunes
through
improvisation.

This
was
in
keeping
with
his
tendency
to
improvise
chords
at
the
piano
when
he

began
composing
a
new
work.
It
is
natural,
then,
that
one
can
find
similarities

between
Delius’s
music
and
that
of
African-‐Americans
who
could
trace
their
musical

lineage
back
to
the
nineteenth
century,
including
Duke
Ellington.
The
musician
in

this
lineage
that
connects
Ellington
and
Delius
most
closely
is
Will
Vodery.
Vodery’s

arrangement
of
‘Ol’
Man
River’
links
Delius
to
African
American
close
harmony

quartet
singing,
and
Vodery’s
mentorship
helped
Duke
Ellington
realize
his
potential

as
a
‘racial’
and
‘American’
composer.

Unfortunately,
all
of
the
discussed
works
by
Delius
in
this
paper
are

impractical
to
perform
as
a
whole,
except
for
the
Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs.

This
might
be
a
good
reason
to
extract
select
choruses
from
Koanga
and
publish
a

choral
suite.
A
choral
conductor
looking
to
compose
a
classically
themed
program

based
on
the
influence
of
African-‐American
music
could
then
include
not
only
the

Two
Unaccompanied
Part
Songs,
but
also
a
choral
suite
from
Koanga.
Perhaps
even

‘After
Night
Has
Gone
Comes
the
Day,’
the
first
a
cappella
chorus
from
Appalachia,

103

could
be
similarly
extracted
and
published.
In
this
way,
the
highly
individual
music

of
a
composer
known
primarily
for
his
orchestral
works
might
be
exposed
to
a
new

audience.
Nevertheless,
whatever
becomes
of
Delius’s
reputation
in
the
next

decades,
one
can
point
to
his
‘American’
choral
works
as
a
unique
and
worthy

example
of
the
far-‐reaching
influence
of
the
rich
musical
heritage
of
African-‐
Americans.

104

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APPENDIX
A:
EXCERPT
FROM
AFRO-‐AMERICAN
FOLKSONGS
(1914),
E.
H.

KREHBIEL

The
excerpt
below
is
from
pp.
42-‐43
of
Edward
Henry
Krehbiel’s
book
Afro-‐
American
Folksongs
(1914),
dedicated
to
Horatio
Parker,
the
first
Professor
of
Music

at
Yale
University.

In
this
excerpt
Krehbiel
lists
the
sources
for
his
examination
of

the
modal
structure
of
African-‐American
songs.

This
is
followed
by
a
simple
list
of

the
various
mode
structures
found
in
the
songs,
with
a
corresponding
listing
of
the

number
of
songs
that
exhibit
that
particular
mode.
Unfortunately
this
is
a
most

generalized
list;
there
is
not
a
more
exhaustive
breakdown
by
title
of
song.

Nevertheless,
while
the
list
falls
short
of
a
scientific
examination,
one
can
ascertain

generalities
about
the
rough
percentages
of
songs
that
exhibit
certain
modal

structures.

To
lay
a
foundation
for
a
discussion
of
the
idioms
of
the
folksongs
created
by

the
American
negroes
I
have
examined
527
negro
songs
found
in
six

collections,
five
of
which
have
appeared
in
print.
Of
these
five
collections,

four
are
readily
accessible
to
the
student.
The
titles
of
the
printed
collections

are:

Slave
Songs
of
the
United
States,
edited
by
William
Francis
Allen,
Charles

Pickard
Ware
and
Lucy
McKim
Garrison;
published
by
A.
Simpson
&
Co.,
New

York,
1867.
This
work,
by
far
the
most
valuable
and
compendious
source,
as

it
is
the
earliest,
is
out
of
print
and
difficult
to
obtain.

The
Story
of
the
Jubilee
Singers,
with
Their
Songs,
by
J,
B.
T.
Marsh.
Published

by
Houghton,
Osgood
&
Co.,
Boston,
1880.
This
is
a
revised
edition
of
two

earlier
publications,
the
music
arranged
by
Theodore
F.
Seward
and
George

L.
White,
of
which
the
first
was
printed
by
Bigelow
&
Main,
New
York,
in

1872.

Religious
Folk
Songs
of
the
Negroes
as
Sung
on
the
Plantations,
arranged
by

the
musical
directors
of
the
Hampton
Normal
and
Agricultural
Institute
from

the
original
edition
of
Thomas
P.
Fenner.
Published
by
the
Institute
Press,

Hampton,
Va.,
1909.
The
original
edition,
entitled
Cabin
and
Plantation
Songs

as
Sung
by
the
Hampton
Students,
was
published
in
1874;
an
enlarged
edition

by
Thomas
P.
Fenner
and
Frederic
G.
Rathbun,
by
G.
P.
Putnam's
Sons,
New

York,
in
1891.

Bahama
Songs
and
Stories.
A
Contribution
to
Folklore,
by
Charles
L.
Edwards,

Ph.
D.
Boston
and
New
York,
published
for
the
American
Folk-‐Lore
Society
by

Houghton,
Mifflin
&
Co.,
1895.

110

Calhoun
Plantation
Songs,
collected
and
edited
by
Emily
Hallowell;
first

edition,
1901;
second
edition,
1907;
Boston,
C.
W.
Thompson
&
Co.

Appendix
A

These
books,
as
well
as
the
author's
private
collection,
have
been
drawn
on

not
so
much
to
show
the
beauty
and
wealth
of
negro
folksong
as
to
illustrate

its
varied
characteristics.
An
analysis
of
the
527
songs
in
respect
of
the

intervallic
structure
of
their
melodies
is
set
forth
in
the
following
table:

Ordinary
major
331

Ordinary
minor
62

Mixed
and
vague
23

Pentatonic
111

Major
with
flatted
seventh
20

Major
without
seventh
78

Major
without
fourth
45

Minor
with
raised
sixth
8

Minor
without
sixth
34

Minor
with
raised
seventh
(leading
tone)
19

111

APPENDIX
B:
PHOTOS
FROM
THE
WILLIAM
T.
RUSSO
COLLECTION

Photos
courtesy
of
The
Smithsonian
National
Museum
of
American
History

14
th

St.
and
Constitution
Ave.,
NW,
Washington,
DC
20001

Accessed
May
4,
2015

Collection
301,
Box
321
–
Contains
scores
and
parts
used
to
prepare
the
Chicago

Jazz
Ensemble’s
1967
performance
of
Duke
Ellington’s
Sacred
Concert
No.
1.
Many
of

the
parts
were
from
Ellington’s
own
performances
of
the
first
Sacred
Concert.

Photo
No.
1
–
String
bass
part
with
list
of
Sacred
Concert
numbers
on
hotel

stationary.
(The
Hotel
Stewart
was
a
six
and
a
half
block
walk
from
Grace
Cathedral.

Note
the
amusing
take
on
the
title!)

112

Appendix
B

Photo
No.
2
–
Folder
with
lead
alto
saxophone
parts
for
Johnny
Hodges,
longtime

Ellington
bandmember.

113

APPENDIX
C:
TWO
VERSIONS
OF
‘WILL
YOU
BE
THERE,’
DUKE
ELLINGTON

First
Sacred
Concert

Photos
courtesy
of
The
Smithsonian
National
Museum
of
American
History

Accessed
May
4,
2015

Photo
No.
1
–
First
page
of
Randall
Keith
Horton’s
transcription
of
‘Will
You
Be

There’
from
the
RCA
Victor
LSP-‐3582
(1966)
recording
at
Fifth
Avenue
Presbyterian

Church,
New
York
City.

114

Appendix
C

Photo
No.
2
–
Unattributed
arrangement
of
‘Will
You
Be
There.’

Abstract (if available)

Abstract The influence of late nineteenth century African-American folk music on the works of Frederick Delius, while acknowledged by such prominent advocates as Sir Thomas Beecham and Percy Grainger, has only begun to be carefully studied in the last twenty years. Delius himself did not have much to say about the matter, though he expressed affection for African-American singing and harmonizing several times in conversation and correspondence. While scholarly attention has focused on the impact of the repertory of African-American sacred and secular tunes on Delius’s music, the study of extemporaneous harmonizing by African-Americans and its influence has been neglected. When harmonizing has been discussed, it has been in the context of the performance of spirituals. This paper will argue that the improvised harmonizing of a wide variety of music by late nineteenth century African-American male quartets is an important influence in Delius’s choral music, and in particular the ‘American’ works. The study will begin with a review of the latest scholarship on African-American part-singing in the late nineteenth century. Delius’s choral-orchestral works Appalachia and Sea Drift, as well as choral music from the opera Koanga, will be examined for evidence of compositional techniques that may be linked to African-American quartet harmonizing practices. Additionally, the a cappella choral miniature To Be Sung of a Summer Night on the Water will undergo a careful measure-by-measure analysis. All four works will be compared to choral music from the Sacred Concerts of Duke Ellington, which bears a similar imprint. Finally, these matters will be considered in light of Delius as a harmonist in inspiration, structure, and style.

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