Tag: choral

Momentous first Wellington concert by 40-year-old Tallis Scholars

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

The Tallis Scholars conducted by Peter Phillips

Tallis: Loquebantur variis linguis; Palestrina: Missa Papae Marcelli; Allegri: Miserere; Arvo Pärt: Nunc dimittis; John Tavener: The Lamb; Byrd: Ave verum corpus and Laudibus in sanctis; Tallis: Spem in alium (with 30 local singers)

Cathedral of Saint Paul, Wellington

Monday 21 October, 7:30 pm

Foreword
Some interesting facts have emerged with the first visit to New Zealand in the forty years of the Tallis Scholars’ existence. Even though director Peter Phillips was married in Wellington (at Old St Paul’s as he told Eva Radich on RNZ Concert’s Upbeat programme on Monday), as a result of his friendship with distinguished Wellington musicologist John M Thomson, the choir never visited New Zealand. Yet this will be its seventh visit to Australia and it has toured Japan 14 times. How can we manage these things better?

New Zealand has a particularly strong choral tradition and its youth choirs have toured with great success, winning in international competitions. But it seems to be no one’s brief to get overseas choirs or vocal ensembles here. The same is true for orchestras large and small, unless they initiate a tour themselves. The New Zealand International Arts Festival, in its great early years, has been almost the only body to fulfil this role (recall the Hilliard Ensemble and I Musici, in recent years).

Evidently, this tour by the Tallis Scholars was inspired by John Rosser, director of Auckland’s Viva Voce choir, and was brought to fruition through Chamber Music New Zealand in partnership with the New Zealand Choral Federation and support from the Deane Endowment Trust. CMNZ has from its beginnings in the late 1940s collaborated with its sister Australian chamber music organization to get world-class chamber groups here. But there has been no comparable organization whose concern is to bring choirs, or even individual singers here.

The task of gathering thirty additional voices and rehearsing them for the performance of Tallis’s Spem in alium was in the hands of John Rosser, Karen Grylls and Timothy Noon.

In the good old days the NZSO used not only to bring its soloists to play with the orchestra, but saw to it that they gave solo recitals where they could be fitted in to the orchestra’s schedules. That, sadly, seems to have stopped: no doubt they don’t pass the cost/benefit test, now that price rather than value is the criterion. (One of the enlightened measures of the former communist regimes was the maintenance of a state organisation to manage cultural visits in both directions, even though usually with a heavy political hand).

Is it too much to hope that, since private initiative is not working, such a body, arms-length from, say, the Ministry of Culture and Heritage, might be set up to perform this important role? Or to encourage the Choral Federation to undertake these activities with the promise of Creative New Zealand grants such as provided to Chamber Music New Zealand?

A comment from Chamber Music New Zealand
After sending this piece to CMNZ, Chief Executive Euan Murdoch has replied, enlarging on the extent to which they already promote singers and vocal ensembles. We confess, while recalling the performances by each of the named groups and singers, that we had not put the picture together, as Euan has now done, pointing out the way CMNZ has been casting its net more widely in recent years.

Here is Euan Murdoch’s comment: 

“Regarding your comments about a CMNZ-type organisation to tour singers and vocal ensembles, it’s not really necessary. That’s what we already do. If we had more resources, we’d do more! I am a firm believer that chamber music encompasses instrumental and vocal ensembles. That’s why over the last five years or so we’ve toured The Song Company twice, Voices NZ chamber choir, Jonathan Lemalu, the Pierards, Jenny Wollerman and Anna Leese. Many of these artists have been supported by the Deane Endowment Trust who share our vision for showcasing the best NZ has to offer alongside the best that the world has to offer. The 40-part motet project with the NZCF was a prime example of this.”  

The Concert
The Cathedral of Saint Paul was sold out for this second concert in the New Zealand tour: Christchurch on Saturday, Auckland and Napier in the following days. I had a seat in the Choir gallery above the west door and it was a splendid position both visually and aurally.

It was a very well thought-out programme: three of the best-known renaissance choral pieces and other pieces that were sung so clearly and dramatically that the audience was no less engrossed and enraptured by the less familiar. The first sounds of Tallis’s Loquebantur variis linguis, (‘The Apostles spoke in many languages’) voices weaving polyphony, expanding in the long echo of the cathedral, were awesome. Though there were only ten voices, and one focused at times on individuals even when many were singing, the combined effect was balanced, in beautiful accord and giving an impression of a strong and weighty choir of much greater size.

Palestrina’s great Missa Papae Marcelli (dedicated to Pope Marcellus II who reigned for a mere three weeks in 1555) was a marvellous study in the refinement of choral writing; without overstatement, each part of the mass was characterized with subtle attention to the sense of the text. A tenor opened the Gloria with its first exclamatory words to be echoed by the full choir; understated dynamic shifts kept the ears and mind alert to what was going on. The ‘Qui tollis’ verses were a contrast (though the words were fairly clear even when the whole choir was singing energetically, it might have been helpful for those not familiar with the Catholic liturgy, especially in Latin, for the drift of the text to have been summarized in the programme notes), soft and prayerful, words enunciated with clarity, and ending with richly textured male voices.

Such emotional expressiveness kept the liturgical drama alive, especially in the Credo where the words ‘Crucifixus est’, were illustrated poignantly in slow and lamenting phrases. Voices inhabited a disembodied, airy space, less varied dynamics and with legato lines in the Sanctus. In contrast, hushed women’s voices brought an ardent quality to the blessing expressed in the Benedictus.

Finally, in the Agnus Dei, gentleness pervaded, leading to full polyphonic richness in the near ecstatic tone of the sustained harmonies that ends the movement, somewhat echoed in the repeat that served to enrich the whole experience.

After the interval Allegri’s Miserere offered an interesting disposition: a solo tenor in the pulpit, four singers at the rear of the sanctuary and the other five at the front of the choir stalls. Even at the distance I was from the singers, the acoustic contrasts so presented seemed to add to the spiritual significance of the piece. The phrases of the high soprano that seem to yearn heavenward as it reaches top C, had a singular intensity that was as moving to a non-believer as to a traditional worshipper.

There followed a pair of contemporary pieces: Arvo Pärt’s Nunc dimittis, (‘Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine’, or ‘Now thou dost dismiss thy servant, Lord’) written to sound well in an acoustic such as this, was expressed initially in phrases of small range, spiritual, but soon intensified with some urgent exclamations at triple forte in more complex harmonies.

John Tavener’s The Lamb, his setting of the Blake poem, was a good companion piece, from a composer commonly linked to Pärt by the title ‘holy minimalist’. Women’s voices opened in unison singing and then in piquant harmony; men’s voices join half way through, bringing the scene down to earth somewhat, with its steady line of undulating crotchets: one of his most popular and delightful works, this exquisite singing was a shift to a beautiful pastoral view of religious belief.

Two short motets by William Byrd (Tallis’s pupil) brought us back to the choir’s home ground; the Ave verum corpus (‘Hail, true body’ [of Christ]) uses the voices in alternating phrases to create a peaceful interlude, a genre known as a ‘gradual’, between parts of the Ordinary of the Mass. Dynamics rose and fell, rarely departing from the steady four-part writing throughout.

Laudibus in sanctis Dominum celebrate supremum (to give the first line in full; it’s a paraphrase of Psalm 150, ‘Praise the Lord’ or, to connect with familiar Latin versions, ‘Laudate Dominum’). More upbeat than the previous piece, the ensemble, starting with sopranos, and adding altos, tenors and basses one by one, sang with a certain grandeur and joyousness as conveyed in the repeated little five-note up-and-down motif, and making much of the complex rhythms.

The Forty-part Motet
The singers went off so that arrangements could be made for the arrival of the thirty additional voices to sing Tallis’s 40-part motet, Spem in alium (or in full, ‘Spem in alium nunquam habui praeter in te’ = ‘I have never put hope in other than you’).  Peter Phillips had told Eva Radich about the hazards of having to rely in the countries they visit on extra singers having been well coached, confessing to several minor catastrophes over the years. But he’d said he had no misgivings here, and indeed, apart from some quite expected a lack of complete clarity of diction, nothing went wrong. Here, much more than usual rests on the conductor in giving cues and keeping things in line; his task was relatively free of stress.

My first hearing of this, as well as, for example, the Missa Papae Marcelli, was from The Tudor Consort under Simon Ravens, whose inspiration for establishing his choir, which still flourishes, was undoubtedly the Tallis Scholars. At their concert in March 1992, I think in the context of the New Zealand International Arts Festival, it was in this cathedral, also jam-packed, the choir was driven to sing the entire work a second time as encore. It remains a moving and vivid memory.

(An aside: you’ll be fascinated to look at The Tudor Consort’s website which lists a complete archive of their performances since 1986).

I think I have heard at least one other performance in the intervening years but I cannot trace the choir or the time.

For the present Wellington generation however, Spem in alium became familiar to hundreds through the audio display at the City Art Gallery a few years ago when 40 speakers were arranged in a circle, each carrying one voice, though with slightly recessed sounds of all the others within range.

In addition to those performances, Wellington has been fortunate in having a sufficiently big population of knowledgeable music lovers to maintain several choirs that have made all the important renaissance music familiar to us.

So this audience knew what they were going to hear and were suitably enraptured. They clapped and stood, refusing to leave till the choir returned for a third time and repeated the last phase of the piece (from bar 104). Searching afterwards for somewhere to have a drink, at the only watering hole open nearby, Rydges Hotel, I ran into several people who’d been there; recognizing each other by programme in hand: all sharing Cloud Nine. This momentous experience was perhaps the most memorable musical event of the year.

 

R.S.Thomas – a centenary remembered in poetry, scripture and music

Posted on by admin

Wellington Cathedral of St Paul presents:
Choral Evensong marking the 100th anniversary of the birth of Priest-Poet R. S. Thomas

Choir of Wellington Cathedral of St.Paul,
Director of Music: Michael Stewart
Sermon: Rev. Dr. Tim McKenzie

Wellington Cathedral of St.Paul

29th September 2013

R. S. Thomas was a 20th Century Anglican Priest-Poet who died in the year 2000 after 40 years in the priesthood. He was a passionate Welsh nationalist, and a pacifist active in the C20th Nuclear Disarmament movement. Throughout his life he expressed his  spiritual explorations in poetry whose highly abstract language would sound unfamiliar to most young ears today. Over his ministry he moved progressively further and further from urban centres to ever more rural environments which doubtless nurtured his deeply contemplative writing. A revealing snapshot of the man and his life can be found at http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/belief/2010/apr/29/rs-thomas-poetry-religion.

Some of his poetry is, however, fresh and unambiguous, such as The Bright Field which was selected for the Introit at this Evensong service. Exquisitely set to music by former Kings Singer Bob Chilcott, the choral idioms were perfectly suited to the Wellington Cathedral, with the sound floating free and un-muddied by the acoustics. This is a startling feat, given the reverberation times typical of such churches, but then Chilcott was Kings College trained in the long traditions of English church choirs and the huge spaces they often sing in. The Cathedral choir did full justice to the beauty of both music and words:

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

The following Evensong service observed the traditional format with the theme being set by the First Lesson read in the King James version from Isaiah 45:1-8 – the godhead is hidden and entirely beyond human reach or comprehension. Traditional Welsh hymns were selected in keeping with the R. S. Thomas theme: God, that madest earth and heaven (Ar hyd y nos), Immortal, invisible, God only wise (St. Denio), and Guide me, O thou great Redeemer (Cwm Rhondda). These were all conveyed to full breadth and effect with the support of the cathedral choir and acoustics, despite an only modest congregation.

Both the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis were Leighton settings which were realised by choir and organist very much in the European cathedral tradition –a wide dynamic range was used to full dramatic effect, from the blast of triple forte to breathless hushed pianissimo, expressing the whole gamut from divine majesty to mystery in the godhead imagery. The acoustics of the cathedral ruled out any possibility of clear diction, but this too is very much in the European tradition of creating an atmosphere of awe and devotion through the powerful medium of the music.

The second lesson from John 6: 63-69 was read in a modern translation which seemed a less appropriate choice than the King James within the context of this particular Evensong; but the Anthem, composed by Director of Music Michael Stewart, was a very effective setting of R. S. Thomas’s haunting poem “The Other”, which was beautifully rendered by the musicians:

There are nights that are so still
that I can hear the small owl
calling
far off and a fox barking
miles away. It is then that I lie
in the lean hours awake listening
to the swell born somewhere in
the Atlantic
rising and falling, rising and
falling
wave on wave on the long shore
by the village that is without
light
and companionless. And the
thought comes
of that other being who is
awake, too,
letting our prayers break on him,
not like this for a few hours,
but for days, years, for eternity.

 The service closed with Vaughan Williams’ organ voluntary on the Welsh hymn tune Hyfrydol.  This concluded an Evensong which offered a very interesting and rounded insight into R. S. Thomas, not only through an apposite selection of music and verse, but also through the obvious commitment from both musicians and preacher to conveying a meaningful understanding of the man and his works.

 

 

Splendid, dramatic Mozart Mass from huge Orpheus and Youth Choirs

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

The Orpheus Choir of Wellington, the Wellington Youth Choir and Orchestra Wellington conducted by Mark Dorrell

Soloists: Anna Leese, Emma Fraser, Oliver Sewell, Kieran Rayner

Mozart: Exsultate Jubilate and Mass in C minor, K 427

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday 28 September, 7:30 pm

Many of us think of Mozart’s ‘Great’ Mass as being one of the unassailable masterpieces, up there with his Requiem and the requiems of Verdi, Berlioz, Brahms and Fauré, and great choral works Messiah, Bach’s passions and the B Minor Mass, Beethoven’s Missa solemnis, and so on.

But the not exactly over-flowing Michael Fowler Centre suggested that I do not have a lot of company (were ticket prices a bit high?). Almost all the side seats of the balcony were empty and the stalls were not dense with enthusiasts. It’s not as if we hear the work every year. Perhaps I don’t remember another choir performing it in recent years, but my last recollection is the Orpheus’s performance in 1988.

This was a splendid performance. We had the (perhaps inauthentic) experience of a huge choir, the Orpheus and the Youth Choir together, filling the choir stalls, which sang with enormous energy and, often, unaccustomed speed.

The mass was preceded by Mozart’s Exsultate Jubilate, the solo part taken by Anna Leese. The orchestra gave spirited and authentic support, driven by Mark Dorrell, taking pains to create varied dynamics and articulations. In the same way Leese varied her projection, sometimes seeming to create a buffeting effect, a varying of intensity rather that actual volume, I thought. And it was notable that the orchestra’s dynamics scrupulously took account of what the soprano was singing; there was no ostentatious baroque affectation, such as a ban on vibrato, though the playing was always crisp and lively. The orchestra was on great form with excellent woodwind, brass and timpani making prominent
contributions.

There was a nice accompaniment in the Recitativo by the chamber organ, with a solo cello contributing the other element of the continuo. Here, with longer legato lines, the soprano sounded more at ease than in the Aria, allowing her voice to flow more comfortably, and the little cadenza at the end was very striking. Finally, the best-known section, the Alleluia, involving a dramatic modulation, held few terrors for Ms Leese.

The major part of the evening was taken by the Mass, almost an hour long though it is famously incomplete, with no Agnus Dei and a few other smaller sections missing. But these are concerns only for the listener who mistakes it as a liturgical work; that is irrelevant for us and may not have been very important to Mozart either, though it is speculated that he used other Mass settings that he had written to fill the gaps. Some filling of gaps is common and the version used here is a common one, by Mozart and Haydn scholar, H C Robbins Landon.

The performance paid attention to all the great variety of styles and treatments which, as the notes in the programme point out, reflect earlier and current choral and operatic styles: Bach and Handel, Gluck and Pergolesi, involving choir, orchestra and soloists in taxing activities.

In the spell-binding opening, which seems at once to promise a creation of great moment, the music sets a moderato tempo, though the orchestra and choir were generally crisp and staccato, which allowed more attention to detail both on the part of performers and audience. In the Kyrie different sections sang contrasting words simultaneously, with varying emphasis; Mozart’s constantly changing use of various sections of the choir, dividing parts, always with perceptible dramatic intention, found scrupulous treatment by the choir. For all its size, Mark Dorrell achieved marvellous precision, varied colour and great power from the choir, throughout; often emphatic as in the ‘Gratias’, and slow and arresting in the pleading ‘Qui Tollis’, against stabbing strings in angry dotted rhythm, that focus attention on the final words, ‘Miserere nobis’; one of the choir’s real high points.

Anna Leese took the first soprano part, entering a couple of minutes into the Kyrie, and delivered at a subdued, stately pace: which is how it should be, leading movingly, with the choir, to the beguiling little melody that soon takes it over.

The bass Kieran Rayner, entered momentarily at the beginning of the Gloria, giving the words a sober, robust masculine tone, though it is a predominantly choral section. Anna returned in the more lively ‘Laudamus te’ section, singing with crisp phrase endings, scaling the heights in a few decorative, bravura passages.

Soloists appear sparingly through the piece; the second soprano, Emma Fraser, does not appear till the ‘Domine Deus’ when both join in duet; a duet that presents continuous challenges. Fraser’s voice offered a somewhat unexpected contrast with Leese’s: Fraser was distinctly brighter and allowing one to feel that the latter was singing a mezzo role.

After the choral ‘Qui Tollis’ the two sopranos were joined by tenor Oliver Sewell in the ‘Quoniam’; there the women’s more penetrating voices slightly disadvantaged the tenor, and Fraser’s voice outshone Leese’s by its sheer brightness.

The elaborate Gloria ends ritually with a fugal choral climax, Allegro, and emphatic in the final Amen, all of which conductor and choir drove with tremendous verve, sounding as if it were the finale of the entire mass.

The bass, Kieran Rayner, again appears at the start of the Credo, enunciating the church’s first simple command ‘Credo in unum Deum’, but the choir takes over with almost overwhelming impact, ranging far and wide in both dynamics and range, the orchestral strings dancing with pungent little quaver motifs.

The ‘Et Incarnatus’ offered display for both Fraser and for the orchestral winds, as her words are accompanied by flute, the bassoon and oboe to support a plangent, almost lamenting tone. Her voice projected splendidly, beautifully, and proved a real show-case for her in a movement which is indeed a small masterpiece. It was the only time clapping broke out spontaneously, and it was entirely deserved.

We do not hear the solo bass part properly till the final section, the Benedictus, which goes steadily, rather soberly paced to start; all four soloists are in charge for a considerable time. Both men sang well, but they were simply out-gunned in vocal intensity by the two sopranos, and it was not till the choir entered with the orchestra, in the ‘Osanna in excelsis’, that we got a hint of what might become a big choral finale. But it’s really a bit of a tease for it proves to be a slightly truncated affair, though a none the less fitting finale; in truth, however, it does lend credence to the thought that Mozart did intend to write a glorious Agnus Dei to bring his masterpiece to a really dramatic, powerful end.

But what there is, from these splendidly rehearsed forces, made a wonderfully satisfying evening.

It is probably unorthodox to draw attention to a performance that is there for the world to see and hear on Youtube, but having been so enthralled by this Wellington performance, I looked around the Internet. Here was a stunning performance by French choir and orchestra: the brilliant young Accentus Chamber Choir and the Insula Orchestra, playing on period instruments, under their conductor Laurence Equilbey. See: www.youtube.com/watch?v=oTI_z714dOo‎

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gorgeous, satisfying a cappella singing from The Tudor Consort

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Renaissance Influences VI: Modern Madrigals

Music by Morley, Gibbons, Jaakko Mäntyjärvi, Monteverdi, Stanford, Lennon/McCartney, le Jeune, Josquin, Weelkes, Lassus, Gesualdo, Ravel, Pearsall

The Tudor Consort, directed by Michael Stewart, with choir soloists

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Saturday, 31 August 2013, 7.30pm

A thoroughly enjoyable evening’s music was had by all who filled the downstairs of the church.  As usual, the beautiful blended sound and the accuracy of performance were captivating. All translations were printed in the programme, and for the most part, English words were readily communicated.

Four voices to each SATB part were further divided for some items.  Most members of the choir looked completely involved in their task.  The choir was placed well forward on the platform; the sound in the church was a delight.

The programme consisted of secular songs, all unaccompanied, dating from before, and including, the flourishing of the English madrigal in the late 16th century, through to an older and a modern song about smoking!   Although love as a theme seemed to produce melancholy, most of the songs performed were joyful.

The concert opened with a well-known Morley madrigal ‘Sing we and chant it’, sung with lovely full tone that varied in accordance with the words being sung.

Another well-known piece followed: Gibbons’s ‘The Silver Swan’.  This was sung by quintet of voices from the choir; as Michael Stewart said in one of his apt, and brief, spoken introductions, these madrigals would have been sung by groups of varying size in the periods in which they were written.  The soprano was a little flat on the top notes several times, but otherwise this much-loved song received a beautiful rendition.

It was followed by an intriguing version of the same madrigal by contemporary Finnish composer Jaakko Mäntyjärvi.  His silver swan did not glide as happily as did its early seventeenth century counterpart, due to more use of minor keys and minor modulations than in the original, making for a more morose result, but it was pleasingly performed.

Two songs about smoking and tobacco were a surprise; first, ‘Come Sirrah Jack’ by Thomas Weelkes, written in the early  years after the weed’s introduction to Britain by Sir Walter Raleigh.  A trio of Michael Stewart (counter-tenor), Brian Hesketh (baritone) and Richard Walley (bass) extolled its virtues and joys with appropriate glee (and a pipe as prop!) in this complex madrigal, sung from memory.  What followed was a setting by Mäntyjärvi of government health warnings about smoking (in English, as was his ‘Silver Swan’).  There was amusing word-painting, in the best madrigalian style, for example ‘…a.. s l o w…. and painful death’.

A change of mood came with Morley’s ‘April is in my mistress’ face’, a happy and familiar madrigal.  Jumping forward over three hundred years, we then heard ‘La blanche neige’ by Poulenc. Its piquant harmonies and clear French language made for an enjoyable performance.

Back to the past, with Monteverdi’s ‘Quel augellin che canta’, about a bird burning with love, sung by a quintet from the choir in fine style.  These were admirable voices: Pepe Becker, Anna Sedcole, Richard Taylor, Jeffrey Chang and Brian Hesketh.  I found Jeffrey Chang particularly resonant as compared with many tenors.  The timing and rhythm were perfect, without benefit of conductor.

The quite exquisite ‘The Blue Bird’ by Stanford followed – a particular favourite of mine. It was sung very quietly, but with the appropriate crescendos and decrescendos.  The staccato notes were well observed as were awkward consonants such as ‘k’, and the vowels (as elsewhere in the concert) were absolutely uniform, making for smooth, even and balanced tone, unanimity, blend, and a thoroughly lovely sound.

The bird theme continued with ‘Blackbird’ by Lennon and McCartney, arranged by Daryl Runswick, the latter (like Bob Chilcott who featured later on) a ‘graduate’ of The King’s Singers.  The song featured whistling, and was an utter contrast to Stanford.  The song by Claude le Jeune (1528-1600) was ‘Le chant d’alouette’, about larks getting rid of a wicked cuckoo.  The song required plenty of verbal facility, and felicity, both of which these singers have in abundance.

One of the most well-known names from the early Renaissance is that of  Josquin des Prez (1450-1521); we heard his ‘El Grillo’, a delightful song about a cricket.  Wikipedia tells me that this type of song, the “frottola (plural frottole) was the predominant type of Italian popular, secular song of the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century. It was the most important and widespread predecessor to the madrigal.”  The singing featured splendid double fortes, and wonderful verbal fluency from the many sounds and syllables to be negotiated in imitating the cricket.

An item missed from the printed programme was Thule, by Weelkes, in two parts: ‘Period of Cosmography’ and ‘Andalusian Merchant’.  The grand title of the first part was explained to us as ‘the limits of map-making’, i.e. a region where one might
meet dragons, or fall off the world.  Volcanoes were a favourite theme in both parts, and the last two lines, about fear and love being more wondrous than exotic places and things, were common to both.

Love having been mentioned, we moved to a selection of  madrigals, ancient and modern, on the eternal theme.  Orlando di Lasso, or Orlande de Lassus, depending on whether you prefer the language of Italy, where he spent much of his life, or that of his Franco-Flemish birth, was represented by ‘Mon Coeur se recommende à vous’.

Gesualdo (described by Stewart as ‘centuries ahead of his time in his harmony’) gave us ‘Moro lasso’, then Josquin again: ‘Mille regretz’.  Then we went centuries ahead to Lennon/McCartney again , with Bob Chilcott’s version of ‘Yesterday’, with Richard Taylor as tenor soloist.  This was a very fine arrangement, and the solo part was touchingly conveyed, while the ‘doo-doos’ and ‘mm-mms’ of the choir were very effective.  The bracket ended with ‘Nicolette’ by Ravel.  Her toying with love was brief; she gave her heart to money.  There was more patter in this song, calling on the choristers skills at fast multi-syllabic utterance.

The concert ended with two songs by Robert Pearsall (1895-1856): ‘Who shall win my lady fair’ and ‘Lay a garland’.  The former was sung with a light touch, while the latter was simply gorgeous, completing a satisfying evening of quality a capella singing.

 

Splendid operatic farewell to the Kapiti Chorale’s conductor Marie Brown

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘Hit and Myth’; choruses and arias from opera

The Kapiti Chorale, Marie Brown (conductor), Elisabeth Harris (mezzo), Christian Thurston (baritone), Salina Fisher (violin), Peter Averi (organ), Rafaella Garlick-Grice and Ellen Barrett (pianos)

St. Paul’s Anglican Church, Paraparaumu

Sunday, 18 August 2013, 2.30pm

Despite the rather corny title of the concert, the church was well-filled to hear the last concert to be conducted by Marie Brown, who is moving to Auckland, following eight years as Music Director  of the choir; she will be greatly missed.

A delightful mixture of arias and choruses from opera made up the fare: some items were well known, or ‘hits’, others less-known, while some were based on myths. While most of the choruses were sung in English, a number were not.

We began with ‘The Villagers’ Chorus’ from Guillaume Tell, by Rossini.  The first three items were all accompanied by Rafaelle Garlick-Grice in accomplished style, having always the right balance with the choir and soloists.  She is an accompanist at the New Zealand School of Music. The women’s sound was good; the men’s rather weak, but there was always an excellent range of dynamics.  Following this, conductor Marie Brown gave the first of a number of apt introductions to the items, not without humour, and playing on the terms ‘hit’ and ‘myth’ where possible.

‘Dido’s Lament’ from Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas was the next item.  It lacked more than a little in sound quality and atmosphere by being played on the piano, but Elisabeth Harris sang with feeling, and a richer sound than I have previously heard from her, plus greater (though not total) accuracy of intonation.  Her voice was well suited to the church’s acoustic, but I was puzzled by the pronunciation of ‘trouble’ as ‘rubble’, and ‘remember me’ as ‘ruhmumber me’. The choir did not start completely together, but words were clear and expressive, and they produced a fine sound; again the gradation of dynamics was good.  The choir’s upper notes were weak at times.

Gounod’s operas, other than Faust, are not much performed now, but ‘O ma lyre immortelle’ from his Sapho proved a good vehicle for Harris.  Her rich lower tones were very fine.

Mascagnis’ ‘Intermezzo’ from his opera Cavalleria rusticana is one of those very famous pieces of music that everyone knows, though perhaps not all can place its source and composer.  It received highly proficient and loving playing from Salina Fisher, a violin student and prize-winner at NZSM, with Peter Averi on the organ.  Unfortunately, a digital organ is not an adequate substitute for the sounds of an orchestra, despite the excellence of the playing.

Back to the choir and Elisabeth Harris, for the Easter Hymn from the same opera, with both piano and organ.  It was a good, dramatic performance from both soloist and choir, but the latter’s vowels were somewhat too diverse for purity of tone.

Turning to French grand opera, better described in these programme notes than I have ever seen it, Christian Thurston, another NZSM student, who recently did well in the School’s opera Il Corsaro by Verdi, sang ‘Ô vin, dissipe la tristesse’ from Hamlet by Ambroise Thomas.  His voice is rich-toned, strong and hearty; accompanied by Rafaella Garlick-Grice, his rendition in excellent French was elegant .

A more familiar opera is Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin.  With two pianos this time, the second played by the choir’s regular accompanist Ellen Barrett, the women of the choir sang (in English) the ‘Chorus of Peasant Girls’.  The tone was pleasant, and the singers gave a suitably playful rendition, while the wonderfully illustrative accompaniment was splendidly played by the unflagging Rafaella Garlick-Grice, beautifully co-ordinated with Ellen Barrett.

From the same opera was the famous waltz scene, again with two pianos.  Thurston sang Onegin, with the full choir.  The English words were clear, and the timing was excellent.  It is not easy to sing as an opera chorus, because phrases for the chorus come up here and there, so it is more difficult to get entries correct as compared with continuous singing in straight choral works.

Perhaps the best-known items from Bizet’s Carmen are the ‘Habanera’, and the ‘March of the Toreadors’.  The first of these was sung in French, with Rafaella Garlick-Grice accompanying and Elisabeth Harris taking the solo part. With French expert Marie Brown to teach them, the choir’s pronunciation was excellent, and the singers were ‘on the ball’, to make this an excellent item.  The soloist, now in a red dress, moving forward from the back of the church, singing from memory, made the most of the seductive, Spanish-style music, with movement and facial expression.

Two pianos accompanied the March, sung in English. The choir’s rhythm was first-class, if the pitch was occasionally suspect.  There was some strain in the tenor voices, but the piece was generally secure and accurate, with plenty of volume when required.

Christian Thurston returned to sing a less-well-known number, ‘Questo amor, vergogna mia’ from Puccini’s Edgar.  He made a fine and beautiful operatic sound.

Elisabeth Harris then gave us ‘Nobles Seigneurs, salut’ from Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots.  This was a very accomplished performance of a difficult aria, not known to me.  The ornamentation was handled with assurance and accuracy, and her French language was excellent.

Something else French: the beautiful ‘Méditation’ from Thaïs, by Massenet played on the violin by Salina Fisher, accompanied by Rafaella Garlick-Grice.  It was superbly played, with sensitivity.  Sadly, the upright piano was somewhat limited in tonal variety in its ‘orchestral’ supporting role.

Now to Verdi: ‘O don fatale’ from Don Carlos, sung by Harris, in Italian, with feeling, and impressive expression and dramatic verve.  Top notes were absolutely in place.  The audience responded with particular enthusiasm to this very passionate aria.

The final three items were more familiar; firstly, the ‘Voyagers’ Chorus’ from Idomeneo by Mozart, for choir and mezzo, sung in Italian, in which I thought the singers seemed to be tiring a little.  This was
followed by the famous Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor by Borodin, where we again had two pianos and an English text.  Top notes from the sopranos were weak, as were some alto notes.  However, the forte section was very accurate and lively, though most words were unclear.  The co-ordination of the pianists was remarkable.

That much loved chorus from Verdi’s Nabucco, ‘Va pensiero’, rounded off the programme, sung in Italian with both accompanists, and a brief appearance from Christian Thurston.  The chorus’s smooth
lines made a rousing end to ‘Hit and Myth’.

Peter Averi then made a short speech, thanking Marie Brown for her work and her huge inspiration to the choir and those associated with it.

The concert of excerpts from opera reached a commendable level of performance, and was much appreciated by the audience.  This was a demanding programme, but all the singers were very involved in what they were singing, and they involved their audience also.

 

Hutt Valley choirs combine for two Haydn masses and other items

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

The Wainuiomata Choir and the Hutt Valley Singers, conducted by Brian O’Regan and Eric Sidoti

Haydn: Mass No 7 in B flat, Hob. XXII:7 (Missa Brevis or ‘Little Organ Mass’, 1775)
Mass No 11 in D minor, Hob. XXII:11 (Missa in Angustiis or ‘Nelson Mass’, 1798)
Telemann: ‘Machet die Tore weit’ (Psalm 14:7 and 8)
Fauré: Cantique de Jean Racine
Francesco Durante: Magnificat in C

Church of St James, Lower Hutt

Sunday 18 August, 2:30 pm

It’s embarrassing to find you’ve arrived late because you’d recorded the wrong time in this very website’s Coming Events listings. Though I was a little comforted to find that the document I’d taken the information from, emanating from a choral organization, had it wrong.

But it was still disappointing to have missed the first item on the programme, Haydn’s Little Organ Mass.

The concert was arranged for the two smaller works to be sung by Hutt Valley Singers conducted by the conductor pro tem. Brian O’Regan (he had also conducted the Little Organ Mass: so I am additionally sorry not to have heard him in that larger work with the combined choirs).

Telemann’s output in almost every genre was prodigious though his choral music is probably not as well known as his orchestral and instrumental. This short cantata, Machet die Tore weit, is a lively, tuneful piece in triple time which should have been within the capacity of this choir, but it suffers as a result of too few men’s voices and the very common problem of markedly individual voices affecting the achievement of a homogeneous sound. So the accompaniment by the string orchestra was of significant help in these circumstances.

It was followed by Fauré’s lovely Cantique de Jean Racine; while the start was tentative, the singers
soon gained a degree of assurance, especially when the whole choir was singing and when the strength of the music carried the singers along more successfully than in the Telemann. The accompaniment was from the organ, played by Judy Dumbleton.

There was a general rearrangement of singers and players for the next work, as it involved both choirs (as had the Missa Brevis), as well and the return of the orchestra. It was a Magnificat by Francesco Durante, a contemporary of Bach, Handel, Domenico Scarlatti and Rameau, which was previously believed to be by Pergolesi, as was a great deal of music by other composers who expected to gain a better hearing for their music by publishing it under Pergolesi’s name. The larger Wainuiomata Choir, now conducted by Eric Sidoti, was a different experience, a striking demonstration of the importance of having enough capable singers in every section, especially the men, to create confidence among amateur and not specially skilled voices.

The other important ingredient is an experienced and talented conductor, and Sidoti provided all that was needed to achieve good blend and ensemble, to minimize the effect of voices that might obtrude if left without guidance.

The scene for the second section, the slow ‘Et misericordia’, was set by the orchestra for the entry of soprano soloist, Imogen Thirlwall; her voice was tight to begin with , but her singing was well projected and accurate, as was alto Emily Simcox who followed in this short section.

The men soloists (James Adams and Roger Wilson) joined the women in the fugal ‘Deposuit potentes’, and in the next section they sang a fine duet with steady support from the strings, and throughout, their contributions were important. The solemn peroration involving the whole choir again, dealt with dignity with the famous concluding verse, ‘Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeculorum’.

Then, after the interval came the Nelson Mass, so named because Nelson, after his victory over Napoleon at the Battle of the Nile, somehow found himself in 1800 at Eisenstadt (though Haydn’s permanent post at the princely court had ended in the early 90s, he continued to write his series of masses for the Princess Maria, the wife of Prince Nikolaus II Esterhazy who had succeeded to the principality).

Nelson appeared at Eisenstadt (this was the Esterhazy family’s earlier seat, abandoned after Nikolaus I built a new palace, Esterhaza, but returned to by his grandson Nikolaus II because Eisenstadt was closer to Vienna) presumably because Nikolaus II was a major general in the Austrian Imperial army: so a bit of tactical diplomacy? Encouraged by Nelson’s victory, both Austria and Russia formed a coalition with Britain, declaring war on France in 1799. I can find nothing to indicate that Nelson had gone there partly to meet Haydn or to hear the mass that had acquired his name.

The combined choirs found the right quality in this mass, regarded as perhaps the finest of the six written late in Haydn’s career. A martial air coloured the Kyrie, and the Gloria was driven by a firm 4/4 rhythm, followed by Roger Wilson’s striking delivery of the ‘Qui Tollis’, slow and suitably sententious. Here and there, I found myself harbouring heretical thoughts about the character of the music that often seemed rather at odds with what the words were saying, let alone what they might mean to the laity. The fugal treatment of the last words of the section, ‘Cum santo spiritu’ struck me, not for the first time, as pretty artificial and formulaic. However, regardless of one’s reaction to antiquated liturgy, the music was often near Haydn’s most vigorous and inventive, and the singers showed no sign of concern at any moral conflict.

The strings continued to offer fine support, and at several stages the trumpets contributed strongly, for example in the Credo and of course, in the triumphant conclusion of the Agnus Dei: ‘…dona nobis pacem’; and the timpani offered portentous commentary in the Benedictus.

So the ending was what one would expect from a liturgical work that is doubling as victory celebration. The choir, the soloists, the orchestra, and not least conductor Sidoti could be well pleased with their efforts.

 

English sacred and secular song, choral and organ music at Saint Paul’s Cathedral

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Choir of Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul, conducted by Michael Stewart, with Thomas Gaynor (organ), Jared Holt (baritone) and soloists from the choir

Music of twentieth-century English sacred choral and secular solo music

Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul

Saturday, 17 August 2013, 7pm

These are unconventional times; before the music could commence, Michael Stewart, Director of Music at the Cathedral, had to give the audience instruction on what to do in an earthquake, while reassuring us about the strength of the building.  The back page of the programme had printed details about such procedures.

Following this, Stewart gave brief but informative and humorous spoken introductions to the items.

Entry to the concert was by donation, to support the purchase of a Steinway piano from the former TVNZ studios at Avalon.  Although not titled on the programme, it was a concert of English sacred choral and secular solo twentieth century music.

In honour of the centenary of Benjamin Britten’s birth, the first three items were his Hymn to St. Peter, Hymn to the Virgin and Hymn to St. Columba.  The first began with loud brass tones from the organ, introducing a slow processional-style hymn.  It incorporated similar introductions to each verse.  This was quite taxing music for choir and organist.  Phoebe Sparrow sang magnificently in the solo passages, to a delightful quiet organ accompaniment.

Hymn to the Virgin is better known than the other two.  This piece was sung unaccompanied, with an antiphonal quartet placed in a balcony above the north transept.  All the singers produced great clarity of notes and words.  A louder section of the music introduced some harsh tone from the men occasionally, but otherwise it was a fine performance.

Hymn to St Columba included an organ part, described by Stewart as ‘fiendishly difficult’, but played with no apparent problems by Thomas Gaynor. This was a gorgeous piece.

Jared Holt sang two of Roger Quilter’s lovely songs: ‘Go, lovely rose’ (words by Edmund Waller), and ‘Now sleeps the crimson petal’ (words by Alfred, Lord Tennyson).  Quilter was a master at setting English poetry; I always think it a shame when, as in this case, the poets are not credited in the printed programmes.  Lieder and song could not exist without the marriage of words and music.  These songs suited Jared Holt’s voice very well, and his performance both vocally and in interpretation he was admirable.

I could not say the same about the piano.  Although sitting near the front, and thus not catching too much of what has been described as the ‘bathroom echo’ in the Cathedral, I found the sound soon became an undefined mush when it left the instrument, i.e. there was a lack of definition, whereas my companion found the tone ‘tinny’.  This was not the fault of the pianist (Michael Stewart) nor, presumably, the instrument, but in the first case, caused by the vast and high space, and the second, by the concrete floor under the instrument.  Perhaps it would be better to keep use of the sustaining pedal to a strict minimum.

One of two major choral works on the programme by Ralph Vaughan Williams, his Mass in G minor, written in 1921 for double choir and dedicated to Gustav Holst and his Whitsuntide singers, was unaccompanied. The influence of Tudor music, was noticeable, especially echoes of William Byrd’s masses.

The performance featured beautiful sustained phrases, refined tone and excellent intonation. There were rich harmonies, especially in the Gloria and a quartet of solo voices interspersed the passages for the full choir of around 30 voices here and in later movements.  The soprano and tenor were strong and clear.  The counterpoint section was bright, lively and intricate.

The Credo was full of delicious contrasts.  The choir’s balance was excellent, especially in the quieter passages.  Vaughan Williams’s word-setting was amazingly varied.  The quartet of soloists again made a significant contribution, and the Amen at the end contained elaborate writing, triumphant in mood.

The Sanctus was perhaps the most contemporary (twentieth century) sounding of  the whole work, with interesting harmonies – always resolved.  Significant dynamic variation was incorporated.  A soprano solo introduced the Benedictus where the voices blended beautifully.  The Agnes Dei was another wonderfully varied movement, sung with assurance, accuracy and affecting attention to tone, clarity of diction and gradations of dynamics.

It was a memorable and superb performance of supremely exquisite English church music.

Following the interval was James MacMillan’s ‘A new song’, a choral piece with organ accompaniment.  This exhibited delicacy and robustness by turns.  And there were some tricky turns for the singers, accompanied by pianissimo chords from the organ, which were followed up by loud ones at the end.  However, I did not find the piece very interesting.

Next we heard the one piece on the programme that was written just before the twentieth century (1895), Elgar’s Andante espressivo (Organ Sonata in G major, Op.28), played by Thomas Gaynor.  This I found rather ho-hum – not the playing, nor the choice of tone colours, but the music, which was rather improvisatory in style and did not seem to have much to say.  It became grand and flashy, but with attractive registrations. Elgar wrote very little other organ music, most of it unpublished; perhaps there was nothing in English organ music of the twentieth century with a greater claim to be included in the programme.

Vaughan Williams’s Five Mystical Songs are great favourites of mine.  A large part of their beauty stems from the poems of George Herbert (1593-1632, again not credited). I have always marvelled at the incomparable language used by this remarkable poet.  The composer’s highly sensitive settings, using a modal opening to several of them, are complemented by magical accompaniments, here, the organ substituting for the original setting for orchestra..

I thought that the second song, ‘I got me flowers’ needed a little more variation of tone and dynamics from the soloist, Jared Holt.  The wordless choir part was ethereal, followed by a strong unison ending.
‘Love bade me welcome’ was for soloist and organ only.  Here, there was more subtlety, and a good range of registrations on the organ.  Words were very clear, and the singer’s tone was warm and earnest.  A wordless coda from the choir accompanied the soloist’s final words.  A high pianissimo ending from the organ was marvellously euphoric.

The setting of ‘The Call’ (Come my way, my truth, my life – quoting words from the New Testament) featured modal tonality.  The final, big choral item, ‘Antiphon’ (Let all the world in every corner sing) is
often performed separately from the rest of the cycle.  Its demanding organ part is like triumphant bells.  It is grand and joyous.

Michael Stewart elicits from his choir an energetic sound, with notable flexibility, especially in its superb dynamic range. Most of the singers looked committed and involved in the music, but a few looked completely bland.  Nevertheless, well done, all – not least young organist Thomas Gaynor, home on a break from his studies in the USA.

 

Fine Choral Symphony from Wellington Youth Orchestra, but where’s the audience?

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Beethoven: Symphony no. 9 in D minor, Op.125

Wellington Youth Orchestra, Chapman Tripp Opera Chorus, members of the Bach Choir, Madeleine Pierard (soprano), Bianca Andrew (mezzo), Derek Hill (tenor), Robert Tucker (bass), conducted by Hamish McKeich

Wellington Town Hall

Monday 29 July 2013, 7pm

The Wellington Youth Orchestra obviously works very hard, and is made up of extremely competent young musicians.  It is only two-and-a-half months since the last concert, which included a taxing Shostakovich Symphony.  Here they are again, playing Beethoven’s demanding final symphony, with choir and soloists; a considerable undertaking for a youth orchestra.

But where was the audience?  This major work has not been performed very recently in Wellington.  Perhaps people think ‘this is a kids’ orchestra – it won’t be very good’.  That is totally incorrect.  Where, though, was the advertising?  I was unaware of the concert until a few days before it happened.  I didn’t see any flyers handed out at other concerts (perhaps there were).  Here was a major choral concert, but the Wellington Regional Committee of the New Zealand Choral Federation was not notified of it, for their excellent listing emailed to choirs, giving details of forthcoming choral concerts.

Not only was the audience small; the orchestra and choir were both smaller than is usually employed for this work.  This did not matter in a less-than-half-full hall, and both lived up to expectations, on the whole.

Again, the orchestra had ‘friends and guest players’, whose names were not listed, joining to support some sections.  I noticed the NZSO’s principal double bass and others added to that section, the principal flute from the NZSO, plus a horn player, a cellist and a violist  There may have been others.

The concert began 10 minutes late – for a relatively early concert timing, this was an irritant.  However, I was soon disarmed by the playing: crisp rhythms and lively variety of dynamics were immediately apparent.  As I sat back and enjoyed the music, I thought what a great a symphony this would have been even without the choral finale.

These young musicians knew what they were doing, as the majestic first movement grew in stature – everything was given full weight.  This is not easy music, but there was no hesitancy and only a very occasional wrong note from this fine ensemble of 50-plus players.

The second movement was driven along forcefully by Hamish McKeich.  All parts were beautifully articulated in this highly dramatic scherzo.  The tempi of the movements were rather confusingly printed in the programme; suffice to say that they are 1 fast; 2  Scherzo: faster; 3 slow; 4 fast, with numerous slower bits interspersed.

The gorgeous slow introduction to the third movement, with its noble melody is followed by
variations upon it.  The playing was full of wonderful woodwind and horn ensembles.  Occasionally the pizzicato accompaniment on strings was not completely together nor loud enough, but that is a quibble; the playing was generally splendid and built up the tension marvellously well.

Beethoven’s motifs came through more than adequately – for example, the frequent pizzicato
passages for the cellos.

The final movement opened quite fast.  There was a big moment for cellos and double basses, and they performed it very well.  Then they were lucky enough to introduce the grand theme upon which the remainder of the movement is built.  The bassoon variation was played superbly.  When the violins finally got their chance, followed by the full orchestra, the music was declaimed with confidence and strength.

Beethoven’s words to introduce Ode to Joy by Friedrich Schiller were sung by Robert Tucker with plenty of power, and a rich vocal quality, although the lowest note was rather beyond his easy reach.  The other soloists were all exemplary, but their placement behind the orchestra meant a lack of volume and clarity at times.

The chorus of about 35 voices was, on the whole, impressive. However, the orchestra rather overwhelmed it at some climactic moments.  The men were strong in their passages sung without the women.  They are frequently asked to sing in a high tessitura, and those passages are spiked with chances for error, only one of which I was aware of the men falling into: shortening the word ‘muss’, thus making an unpleasant hissing noise where it was not wanted.

Tenor Derek Hill is quite slight of build, but he delivered the goods.  Bianca Andrew’s and Madeleine Pierard’s voices blended well, and were similar in timbre.

While I don’t expect the soloists to have ghastly grins on their faces, I would have thought that Ode to Joy might have evinced some appearance of happiness from the soloists, especially at the end; the women particularly looked very glum.  In some performances of the work, but not in this one, the soloists join with the chorus at the end, which seems a good idea – all the singers combining in the last great shouts of joy.

I haven’t listened to a performance of this masterwork for many years – instead, I’ve sung in it
numerous times.  This performance was uplifting – and I didn’t have to worry about whether I could reach the repeated top notes!

 

Capital Choir – joys and travails through Solstice and Winter

Posted on by Peter Mechen

The Capital Choir presents:
Sing the Measure of Solstice and Winter

BEETHOVEN – Mass in C
A Selection of New Zealand Songs
Felicia Edgecombe (director) / Belinda Behle (piano)

Soloists (Beethoven):
Belinda Behle (soprano) / Ruth Armishaw (alto)
Chris Berentson (tenor) / Rhys Cocker (bass)

Janet Gibbs (organ)

Sacred Heart Cathedral, Hill Street,

Sunday 7th July 2013

There’s such a lot of pleasure to be had in singing, and especially if one is musical but doesn’t perhaps command any experience or great expertise on an instrument other than the voice.

And for people like myself who can hear music and enjoy it but would seriously baulk at the thought of making individually-exposed sounds themeslves, there’s safety in numbers in the shape and form of membership of a choir.

Recalling my own short-lived but enjoyable experience as a choir member, I’m sure I would have liked singing with this group in repertoire such as we heard throughout the first half of this concert – a collection of songs, some of them written by the choir’s own director, Felicia Edgecombe, and in one instance with the words written by another choir member, author and poet, Rachel McAlpine.

These were, for the most part, simply-conceived songs, featuring a good deal of strong, well-focused unison sounds, with some differentiation between men’s and women’s voices and enough angularities in the lines (plus the occasional harmony) to pose sufficient of a challenge.

I fancy I would also have appreciated the focused, but always flexible direction of the group’s director, Felicia Edgecombe, being made to feel secure and well-rounded in matters of breathing and phrasing by following her visual example.

And as an intensely private pianist myself, I particularly relished the songs’ piano accompaniments, each sounding so beautifully modulated and flexibly phrased (oh, to be able to play like that!) by Belinda Behle – whose name I couldn’t at first see anywhere in the program relating to the first half of the concert, but whose identity was revealed when I saw she was the soprano soloist in the Beethoven Mass as well! – she is, I believe, the choir’s regular accompanist.

I imagine it would have been a source of pride to have sung those items written especially for the choir by Felicia Edgecombe – the “Nation Prayer”, a kind of New Zealand ballad, a lovely setting of a gorgeous Gerard Manly Hopkins poem, complete with a final, affirming “Praise Him!”, and a setting of a poem “Once in a While” by Brian Turner, which featured the choir’s bass voices steadfastly holding their line throughout the first part.

Most interesting of these was, I thought, the setting of Rachel McAlpine’s lines throughout a work entitled “World”, words which the poet herself read before the performance. With bells pealing at the start, the women launched into the setting splendidly, then supported the men’s verse following – perhaps the voices didn’t quite have the “oomph” necessary to bring off the climax of the last verse, though the subsequent upward modulation seemed to give the choir more “heart”, and strengthen everybody’s resolve.

Part of the fascination of singing in a choir was, I remember, marvelling at the confidence and skill with which any soloists present would deliver their lines – so exposed, and yet so focused and purposeful. In this respect the Beethoven Mass would have been a real treat – four very different voices, beginning Beethoven’s “Kyrie” confidently, and shaping their lines throughout the “Gloria” with plenty of musicality.

In general, this was a performance of the Beethoven work by the choir that started strongly, but seemed to lose its choral focus as the work progressed. Throughout the Kyrie and Gloria, my notes contain comments such as “Women very strong – hold their lines well” and “Enthusiastic – a little strained, but nicely shaped” – and at one point where the accompanying organ unaccountably stopped, towards the end of the Gloria, the choir continued as if its life depended the outcome, holding its tone firm and its ensemble truly (I understand the organist was taken ill, hence the momentary lapse).

However, from the Credo on, the performance seemed in places under-parted – in particular, the men were often tentative-sounding, though lack of weight of numbers certainly contributed to the weak, non-upholstered body of choral sound in places.

By dint of having the most resplendent-sounding solo voices the alto Ruth Armishaw and bass Rhys Cocker were able to fill out their tones with ample variation of intensity and colour. Though plainer and more subdued by comparison the sweet-toned soprano of Belinda Behle and Chris Berentson’s true-voiced tenor managed to maintain their respective lines and hold their own in ensemble passages, achieving an attractive blend in places. And towards the end of the Gloria,in that typically Beethovenian build-up of tensions, the singers seemed inspired, led by the soprano, keeping their lines steadfastly to the end.

I would have thundered as loudly as I could at the beginning of the Credo, had I been singing – I felt tempted to join in anyway, as there didn’t seem enough power in those voices at this point. It was left to our soloists to “focus” the music, which they did at “Et incarnatus est” – again both bass and alto shone during their respective solos, at  “Et resurrexit” and “Et in Spiritum Sanctum”  How amazingly like the Missa Solemnis  this music is in places – obviously a kind of preliminary run on the composer’s part!

I don’t think I would have liked to sing the Sanctus, much – all that chromatic writing! But I did wonder as to whether there had been sufficient rehearsal though these sequences, because they sounded to me as though they were being sight-read, here. Again, the soloists came to the rescue in the “Benedictus”, Ruth Armishaw in particular a tower of strength, despite the briefest of stumbling over an ending to “In Nomine Domine” – and, the final lines of the ensemble were simply heavenly!

The choir rallied itself for the final Agnus Dei, achieving the “cry of anguish” at the beginning,and establishing a coherent sense of ebb and flow through to the end. For me, the music had a wonderful kind of dark “Gothic” feeling about it in places, which the choir was able to sustain, and which the soloists were able to work their contrasting “Dona nobis pacem” passages against to good effect.

So – a mixed bag, with the warm, heartfelt choral singing throughout the first half and the work of the soloists during the Beethoven Mass the most notable features. Even the undernourished choral singing during parts of the Mass didn’t for me negate the work’s glory, so, all-in-all, I was grateful to have heard it done, this “little brother” of the great Missa Solemnis.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tremendous panache from performers in Verdi’s epic Requiem

Posted on by admin

VERDI – REQUIEM MASS

Lisa Harper-Brown (soprano), Margaret Medlyn (mezzo), Rosario La Spina (tenor), Jud Arthur (bass)

Orpheus Choir and City Choir Dunedin

NZSO conducted by Pietari Inkinen

Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington

Saturday 29th June.

Verdi’s Requiem was presented last Saturday evening with tremendous panache by a huge group of musicians who all seemed to revel in the privilege of performing this epic work. Their enthusiasm was palpable, in a way that communicated itself to the audience and created a gala atmosphere that was further enhanced by the wonderful lighting of the rich timber work in the dome . The huge range of dynamic and dramatic possibilities, and the riveting contrasts crafted by Verdi were brought out by Inkinen’s direction in every movement of the score.

A great deal has been written about the dramatic and operatic style of the Requiem by those who question whether such overt dramatism is appropriate for a work that contemplates death. But the score makes it clear that Verdi saw much more than contemplation in the gamut of emotions facing a dying human being. He threw his formidable talent at the challenge of expressing a whole range of feelings with no holds barred, and this was a performance that did that intention proud. The musicians barely whispered the breathless plea of the opening Requiem aeterna,  yet  repeatedly unleashed a shrieking terror of divine wrath in the recurring Dies irae. The contemplative numbers were sensitively crafted by the singers in solos and ensembles alike, and they were supported by some breathtaking obligati from the woodwind principals, the first bassoon being the standout example.

There were very few moments that were less than satisfactory. Lisa Harper-Brown embraced the huge demands of the solo soprano score with complete technical mastery and projected clearly over the strongest orchestral and choral passages. Margaret Medlyn’s musicianship was, as always, eminently sensitive and convincing, but there were times when the pitch and timbre of her voice could not quite float through the orchestration provided for the mezzo solos. Jud Arthur likewise needed more power and definition than his voice could find to sound strong and satisfying in some numbers. Rosario La Spina could soar effortlessly over the combined choir and orchestra, but was sometimes too dominant in the tenor voice of ensemble numbers. Margaret Medlyn and Jud Arthur were both sometimes difficult to hear within the solo ensemble when it was set against the massed choirs and full orchestral resources.

Inkinen was apparently conducting the Requiem for the first time on this NZSO tour. But his beat was always clear and sure and only once, in the Sanctus, did he set off at a tempo which left the disparate choral and orchestral strands struggling to mesh their rhythm. His control of the vast dynamic range and huge dramatic contrasts demanded by the score was truly impressive, and it was clear that even the most distant chorister responded to such clear, emphatic leadership. The orchestra was in splendid form, and the strings and wind had no trouble holding their own with Verdi’s fullest orchestration for brass and percussion.

The performance built inexorably to a riveting climax that was capped off with thunderous applause from the packed auditorium. The glowing faces and excited comments that buzzed in the lobbies afterwards expressed the enormous enthusiasm of the audience, and the sense of being privileged to experience such a powerful work so magnificently presented. Judging by the turnout on Saturday, the NZSO should take these reactions to heart, and more often consider the great masses and requiems of such as Mozart, Brahms, Beethoven etc. when preparing future programmes.