Tag: choral

Tudor Consort successfully aligns Easter concert with ending of World War I

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

The Tudor Consort, conducted by Michael Stewart, with Milla Dickens, soprano, and Richard Apperley, organ (As the leaves fall)
‘Music for Holy Week: Eternal Sacrifice’

Purcell: Hear my Prayer, O Lord
Parry: Songs of Farewell (Six Songs. or Motets, interspersed throughout)
Byrd: Miserere mei, Deus
Harold Darke: As the leaves fall
Gibbons: Drop, drop, slow tears
Weelkes: When David heard
Poems by Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon

Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul

Saturday, 30 March 2018, 7:30 pm

As Michael Stewart explained in his pre-concert talk, in considering music for the yearly Good Friday concert, he had the idea of aligning music for Holy Week with music marking the end of World War I. Therefore he chose appropriate music written during that war, and interspersed it with music of earlier times written by English composers, and with poems written by two poets of the Great War. All this made for a very interesting programme.

Hubert Parry has perhaps tended to be regarded as a minor figure: very much of his  age – late Victorian and Edwardian, and the composer of the famous Jerusalem (‘And did those feet in ancient time…’), the lovely hymn tune Repton (‘Dear Lord and Father of mankind…’), the anthem I was glad, composed for King Edward VII’s coronation, and other choral pieces well-known in Anglican choirs. Tonight was quite a revelation – of the range, skill, and modernity of his choral writing.

Parry became director of the Royal College of Music in London, and professor of music at Oxford University. Stewart (and Grove’s Dictionary) stated that Parry had revitalised music in the United Kingdom, which had reached a low ebb. He was involved in teaching, among others, Ralph Vaughan Williams and Gustav Holst, both of whom made a huge contribution to British music. Another claim to fame was his  assistance to George Grove in 1877, in the compilation of the latter’s massive Dictionary of Music and Musicians.

Given a small choir performing, able to use the resonance of the cathedral to its advantage, there was not the problem with clarity of words that there can be with a larger body of singers.

As one who had studied in Germany, to Parry, war between Britain and Germany was unthinkable. When it occurred, with its tremendous loss of life, including among music students of his, he was deeply shocked and horrified. This is reflected in the Songs of Farewell, written between 1916 and 1918, the year of his death, not least in the poetry he chose to set..

As usual, printed programmes were on A4 paper, with print large enough for the words to be read during the concert, thanks to sufficient lighting. Dates for all the composers and poets were given, and the words of the songs were printed. (Other choirs please copy these exemplary practices).

​The opening Purcell Psalm verse was grave and quiet, with exemplary tone; dynamics were beautifully managed. The poem Anthem for doomed youth by Wilfred (not Wilfrid) Owen was read immediately after, giving point through the well-known opening words: ‘What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?’ And the last line: ‘And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds’.

The first two Parry songs followed, the first a setting of the wonderful poem by Henry  Vaughan, one of the 17th century, metaphysical poets: ‘My soul, there is a country Far beyond the  stars’, which I memorised when a student. Its emphasis on peace was very telling in  this context. While the words have their own beauty, the unaccompanied setting did  not take from this euphony. Especially at the beginning, the piece was rather typical  English part-song – but no worse for that – the setting of words was very fine.

The next song, I know my soul hath power to know all things was attractive and  expressive, in a homophonic setting, in contrast to the greater intricacies of the first  song. It was followed by Byrd’s Miserere. (The more famous Allegri setting had  been on the radio that afternoon, as had Tudor Consort’s Good Friday concert from  2017). The superb polyphony was brought out by the singing, nevertheless all the  voices were skilfully blended.

Another Owen poem followed: ‘Greater love’, then the next Parry song Never weather-beaten sail, with words by Shakespearean-era poet Thomas Campion. The  setting was appropriate for these words and their period. It differed in mood from the earlier songs, and featured lovely harmony. The second verse’s words about ‘high Paradise’ were set to soaring phrases; a glorious song.

The last work before the interval was the only one featuring extended vocal solo from Milla Dickens, and also organ, by Richard Apperley. Harold Darke, who died in 1976 after a long life, was a well-known British organist and composer. He is widely known mainly for his setting of the carol In the bleak midwinter. The poem As the leaves fall was written in 1916 by Lieutenant Joseph Courtney, as a very young man. Heart-wrenching it is, particularly in the words addressed to mothers and maidens, for the loss of the male youth. The song began with a long organ introduction. Throughout, the organ part was interesting and varied.

Choir and solo soprano alternated, and sometimes sang together, reaching a climax in the final section, triumphantly proclaiming confidently ‘There is no death…’. This was quite an unusual, lengthy work that had considerable impact.

After the interval, Gibbons’s simple but sublime Song 46: Drop. Drop slow tears was simply gorgeous. (There is also a beautiful anthem on these words by New Zealander Richard Madden.) It was followed by a tragic wartime poem by Siegfried Sassoon: ‘Suicide in the Trenches’. Back to Parry, and There is an old belief. This received a very imaginative setting, and gave the impression of being difficult to sing. While expressing hope in heaven, the nineteenth-century poet John Gibson Lockhart seemed unsure about the hope, ending his poem ‘Eternal be the sleep If not to waken so’ (i.e. waken in the creed of life ‘Beyond the sphere of Time’).

​

Kings Singers and Voices New Zealand combine for wonderful, eclectic concert for New Zealand Festival

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

New Zealand Festival 2018

King’s Singers (Patrick Dunachie and Timothy Wayne-Wright, counter-tenors; Julian Gregory, tenor; Christopher Bruerton and Christopher Gabbitas, baritones; Jonathan Howard, bass)
Voices New Zealand Chamber Choir conducted by Karen Grylls

Henry Ley: The Prayer of King Henry VI
Bob Chilcott: ‘We Are’; ‘High Flight’
Ludwig Senfl: Das G’läut zu Speyer
Orlandus Lassus: Dessus le marché d’Arras
Eric Whitacre: ‘The Stolen Child’
Saint-Saënes: Romance du soir
Schubert: Die Nacht
Leonie Holmes: ‘This Watershed Time’
Trad. (arr. Goff Richards): Lamorna
Trad. (arr. Bob Chilcott: ‘I Bought me a Cat’
Nico Muhly: ‘To Stand in this House’
The Party Bag: classic favourites and new works in close-harmony

Michael Fowler Centre

Saturday, 10 March 2018, 7:30 pm

Surprisingly perhaps, The King’s Singers were full of praise for the Michael Fowler Centre as a venue for their type of singing.  They demonstrated what true projection is, both in speaking and singing.  The breadth of their repertoire was astonishing, the clarity, precision and warmth of their utterances, breathtaking.

This concert was part of a 50th anniversary tour; it was surprising to learn that it is 30 years since they visited Wellington, though they have visited other New Zealand cities much more recently.  I certainly remember their visit here in April 1972.  While the counter-tenors this time were sweeter and fuller in tone, I thought the  baritones and bass did not quite have the fullness or  warmth of tone of the original King’s Singers equivalents, one of whom I later had the privilege of singing under in the Orpheus Choir, for whom he conducted a Mozart concert in 1991.

Voices New Zealand Chamber Choir certainly lost nothing in comparison with the British (well, one is a New Zealander) imports.  Like The King’s Singers, they sang most of the music with scores in front of them (paper, not laptops like TKS), but both ensembles sang some of the repertoire from memory.

The Ley was the opening item.  Henry Ley (1887-1962) wrote a setting of an ancient prayer was written for the singers’ alma mater, King’s College, Cambridge  The prayer of King Henry VI, the college’s founder, was written in 1441.  This, and most of the programme, was sung with the audience in darkness, as indeed were also those parts of the stage not in use.  This was somewhat irritating if one wished to read the programme – not that it contained much detail about the music performed.  However, members of TKS, mainly bass Jonathan Howard, introduced items verbally, often in a lightly humorous fashion.

The first Bob Chilcott item followed, the two items being grouped under the heading ‘The Family’, i.e. the King’s family; composer Chilcott is a former member the King’s Singers.  Warm, clear consonants were a feature of the singing; these contribute much to the clarity of the words, which were by poet Maya Angelou.  ‘Voices’ sang in this item, which was commissioned for the KS 50th anniversary.  The programme blurb said ‘Celebrating their 50th anniversary in 2018, The King’s Singers are engaging the finest choirs across the globe to chart their journey through their music… This year also marks the 20th  anniversary of Voices New Zealand Chamber Choir’.

The next sequence, sung by TKS alone, after some welcoming and descriptive remarks, was headed ‘The Joy of the Renaissance’, and included Das G’läut zu Speyer by Ludwig Senfl (ca. 1486-1543).  The short piece was to do with the ringing of church bells, and was most effective, one voice to a part.  Lassus, or di Lasso if you prefer, set a suggestive song about a soldier and a young lady in the French town of Arras.  The King’s Singers invested it with liveliness.

Contemporary American composer Eric Whitacre is a prolific writer of choral music.  Under the heading ‘The Philosopher’ was the song ‘The Stolen Child’; here Voices New Zealand joined in again, conducted by Karen Grylls.  It was a setting of a poem by Irish poet W.B. Yeats.  This had been composed for the 40th anniversary of TKS.  The spooky words evoked spooky music   This was a longer piece than many of Whitacre’s choral compositions.  Quite a complex work, it employed evocative harmonies, and particularly beautiful counter-tenor tone.

‘The Beauty of the Romantic Era’ was represented by Saint-Saëns and Schubert; TKS on their own.  The former’s Romance du soir  It goes without saying that both French and German were impeccably pronounced.  These were part songs for four singers.  Clarity plus, superb phrasing, and wonderful tone were features.  Schubert’s Die Nacht was particularly lovely.

‘The Force of Nature’ was the heading given for the commissioned work from Auckland composer Leonie Holmes: ‘This Watershed Time’, which received its world premiere.  Composer and poet were both present; the latter’s name was not printed in the programme – she was Anne Powell of New Plymouth.  ‘Voices’ was also involved in this piece.  To start with, the latter’s contribution was mainly humming.  There  were numerous beautiful solos from TKS, including difficult intervals – lots of seconds.  Dynamic variation added interest.

There were flowing sequences, appropriately sounding like the water of the title.   Sustained low notes like drones were another feature. Often there was a mesmerising effect.  All was sung with confidence and accuracy.  I had the impression that the audience did not take too well to this music – there was much more coughing in this part of the performance than elsewhere.

The hall was briefly illuminated for the composer to take her bow, before darkness again took hold for ‘The Romance of Folksong’ section.  It consisted of two traditional items, the first being the hilarious ‘Lamorna’ and the second a thoroughly delightful arrangement of the American song ‘I bought me a cat’.  Both were jolly and presented with style and humour.  The harmony in these arrangements was impressive and enjoyable; singing intervals of a second to give more accurately the sound of duck, goose, pig etc. would not be easy, but was passed off with nonchalance.  The English words in this latter piece were clear and exquisitely enunciated.

The final piece before the interval was ‘High Flight’ by Bob Chilcott, performed along with ‘Voices’. It was another work written for the TKS 40th anniversary, and was originally performed with the King’s College chapel choir.  The poem by John Gillespie Magee, an Anglo-American pilot in the Canadian Air Force, was written only a few months before he died early in World War II.  I have sung these words in a setting by John Ritchie, part of his composition ‘Wings of the Morning’.  Chilcott’s setting could not have been more different.  Where the Ritchie was contemplative and soaring, this was fast, and incorporated a great range of the aural compass.

‘The Visionary’ was the title above American composer Nico Muhly’s ‘To Stand in this House’, a commission for this 50th anniversary.  The piece started with an ancient prayer – the same one that opened the evening’s programme.  Other authors with King’s College connections represented in the four-movement piece were Salman Rushdie, and English contemporary author Zadie Smith.  ‘Voices’ sang in this work also, though at first their participation was minor.

Part of the second movement involved selective wavering of some of the voices as a potent accompaniment.  Words were clear, for the most part.  The third movement I found a bit dull.  My other comments I cannot read because of the problems of writing in the dark!  The final movement engaged the choir less.  I found the piece to have excellent word setting, musically, but it was hard to pick up much of them.  This was a highly skilled work, and pleasant to listen to, but not easily absorbed in one hearing.

The final bracket, of more popular items, was sung by TKS alone, without scores.  ‘Ob la di, ob la da’ is a 1968 Beatles song.  The singers embroidered it with vocal sound effects, at which they are highly skilled.  It provided amusement and enjoyment.  Next was ‘I’ve got the world on a string’, a popular 1932 jazz song composed by Harold Arlen, with lyrics written by Ted Koehler.  Wonderful close harmony singing was to the fore.

Then a change of style, to a lovely arrangement of ‘My love is like a red, red rose’.  The Robert Burns poem was set by a number of his contemporaries, but the tune we know today was paired with it by Robert Archibald Smith, using the tune of ‘Low Down in the Broom’ in his Scottish Minstrel book in 1821.  The close harmony here made this touching song even more moving.  Solos in the verses added to the effect.  Here, it was remarkable to note the breath control of the singers.  Despite the ‘Party Bag’ the overall tone of the concert was serious.  Gone were the frilly, coloured shirts worn for the lighter second half of the programme by the 1972 King’s Singers!

Aspects of the singing throughout were the perfect vowel matching, the precision timing with no obvious conducting happening (in the case of TKS).  It goes without saying that intonation was spot-on.  Beautiful textures, suited to the style of particular pieces were a feature.  ‘Mellifluous’ is too weak a word to describe the sounds of both ensembles.  For there is more than one sound – a mark of good singing, in my view.  The sound produced for the first item, by Henry Ley, was very different from the sound heard in the Billy Joel item – but both were beautiful.

The last item was a Dave Dobbyn number, which the audience knew: ‘Slice of heaven’.  Finally the encore, from The King’s Singers and Voices New Zealand: a Billy Joel song, ‘And so it goes’.  The singing was gorgeous from the sextet, with Voices going ‘ooh-waah’ in the background in this lovely arrangement.  So ended a wonderful concert, in which vocal music was demonstrated at its highest level, all without instrumental accompaniment.

 

Legal choristers and instrumentalists in anniversary class action supporting child cancer campaign

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Crown Law Presents: Counsel in Concert: Musical Anniversaries; in aid of the Child Cancer Foundation

Items by Monteverdi, Telemann, Haydn, Gershwin, The Beatles

Lawyers’ choir and orchestra, with soloists. Conducted by Owen Clarke

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Tuesday, 19 November 2017, (12.15pm); 5.30pm

It was heartening to see such a large bunch of lawyers who enjoy making music – and the large, mainly young audience who came to hear their second performance.  The 38-strong orchestra included some 21 players from the NZSO and Orchestra Wellington, but only one lawyer – the indefatigable Merran Cooke, who rehearses the performers and organised the concert.  The choir consisted of 53 singers.

The composers selected were a heterogeneous bunch, chosen for their anniversaries this year.  The programme notes gave details: 450 years since the birth of Monteverdi, 250 years since the death of Telemann, 250 years since the composition of Haydn’s ‘Stabat Mater’, 80 years since the death of Gershwin and 50 years since The Beatles’ ‘Sergeant Pepper’ album.

The first item, which included a harpsichord continuo, was the opening movement from Monteverdi’s Vespers of 1610: ‘Deus in adjutorium’.  Those opening words are intoned in plainchant, followed by the magnificent ‘Domine…’ from choir and orchestra, each part singing on its own single note for a couple of pages.  The heightened drama of this effect is resolved in triumphant fashion when all parts shift on the word ‘Alleluia’.  It was a very effective performance, even if the splendid brass almost drowned out the choir at times.  It made a great opening for the concert.

Next was a welcome from the Solicitor-General, Una Jagose.  She spoke of the health and social benefits of making music in groups.  Telemann’s Der Tag des Gerichts, or The Day of Judgement (appropriate for legal professionals to perform).  Two choruses from this religious work were given: ‘Schallt ihr hohen Jubellieder’ and ‘Die rechte des herrn’.  Only a slight knowledge of the German language is needed to deduce that the first was about sounding jubilant songs, while the second deals with another suitable subject for lawyers – the rights of men.

A line-up of five soloists from the choir sang well in these excerpts, particularly Amanda Barclay, soprano, apart from starting slightly off-key.  Then the choir gave Telemann all they had, in a very vigorous performance.

The soloists sounded more comfortable in Monteverdi’s ‘Beatus vir’, a setting of Psalm 122 from his Selva Morale e Spirituale of 1640.  It is probably his best-known choral piece.  Four of the five soloists from the Telemann appeared again, with the addition of two other male singers.  The women on the whole acquitted themselves better than the men, and again, occasionally the choir and soloists were drowned by the orchestral sound.  However, with strings only, we heard more from the soloists.  The choir sang well, with plenty of lung power; the orchestra played with appropriate style.  Rhythm and articulation were good, and the beauty of the woodwind playing stood out particularly.  The choir parts were clear and confident.

Owen Clarke has conducted the annual concert for a number of years, even after moving to Auckland, and now Australia.  He spoke briefly to the audience about how he enjoyed taking part in this annual event.  He was followed by Lara Cooke (no relation to Merran Cooke), a teenager who has suffered two major bouts of cancer.  She spoke clearly, fluently and unemotionally about her experiences, and the help she and her family had received from the Child Cancer Foundation.  It was a moving experience to learn a little of what she had gone through, including having to move to Christchurch and Auckland at different times to receive treatment.

A medley from George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess followed; an arrangement by Ed Lojeski.  ‘I got plenty o’ nuttin’ opened for the orchestra, and the wind players certainly opened their lungs.  Anna Rowe sang ‘Summertime’, amplified, to excellent effect – although in St. Andrew’s acoustic I did not think that amplification was necessary.  The choir came in too, and piano and percussion were added.  The choir reiterated the opening number, using the pronunciation ‘nothing’.  Then there was ‘It ain’t necessarily so’, with Ken Trass an excellent soloist, along with the choir.  ‘Bess, you is my woman now’ had similar treatment.

Idiomatic, well-rehearsed singing of a good standard were the marks of the entire medley, with clear words.  There were some delightful clarinet passages before the medley ended strongly with ‘O Lord, I’m on my way’.

Three Beatles songs concluded the programme, the music arranged by Daniel Hayles, a New Zealander who teaches jazz at the New Zealand School of Music here in Wellington, the skilled arrangement being commissioned for this concert.  The soloist was Mauricio Molina, a Wellington singer originally from Argentina.  I found his amplified voice too loud in the first song, in the St. Andrew’s acoustic.  The choir also sang, in Sergeant Pepper, Penny Lane  and All you need is Love, but in the first song they could hardly be heard.  Things were much better in the gentler Penny Lane.  The soloist was not too loud, his words could be understood, and the choir could be heard.  The triumphant ending of the last song had the audience joining in clapping the rhythm.  The beginning and ending of the song features phrases from La Marseillaise – a great effect.

Sponsors contributed to the cost of the concert; all audience donations would go to the Child Cancer Foundation. I trust this was a considerable sum; the musicians worked hard for it.

 

 

 

A Consort Christmas: Tudor Consort assembles brilliant and diverting package of words and music

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

The Tudor Consort directed by Michael Stewart

A Consort Christmas; carols and secular and liturgical pieces by Jean Mouton, Matteo Flecha ‘El Vielo’, Tallis, Francisco Guerrero, Byrd, Sweelinck, Praetorius, Peter Cornelius, Rachmaninov, Healey Willan, Howells, Poulenc, Richard Madden, and Gregorian chant  
and readings on Christmas themes from Robert Easting and Bryan Crump

Wellington Cathedral of St Paul

Saturday 16 December, 7:30 pm

Given The Tudor Consort’s splendidly rehearsed and executed array of carols, chants, liturgical and secular songs connected with Christmas, one had to wonder whether the unusual quantity of Christmas-related music over the past few weeks had brought about some aural fatigue resulting in a smaller audience than I would have expected.

And so, to remind you of all the Christmas-like concerts over the past three weeks, look at the end of this review.

First came a Gregorian chant, Puer natus est nobis, which the programme described as the Introit for the third mass of Christmas Day, which sounded from the back (west end) of the church as choir members walked slowly up the centre aisle with music director Michael Stewart in their midst. Its spirit was one of optimism and joy.

A variant on that subject followed: Hodie Christus natus est by Jan Sweelinck, recorded in the programme as the Antiphon for Vespers of Christmas Day. Here emerged a marked characteristic of the choir’s performance – glorious, high sopranos, including voices that would be soloists in the Tallis Missa puer natus est nobis and elsewhere.

Readings: Robert Easting
After the Sweelinck, erstwhile choir member Robert Easting, Professor Emeritus (English language and literature) at Victoria University, delivered a splendidly orated recital of the 16th century ‘carol’ The Carol of Jolly Wat, replete with convincing contemporary pronunciation and profane histrionics.

(Introducing his verses, Easting mentioned the death this week of another distinguished Wellington academic at Oxford, Douglas Gray. It brought back memories: Gray was Dux at Wellington College in my third form year. By the time I was studying English at Victoria, he was junior lecturer in Professor Ian Gordon’s English Department, and I recall his lectures and seminars in stage II in Middle English and/or Anglo-Saxon. A further pedantic offering: one of our text books was Kenneth Sisam’s classic Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose, still somewhere on my shelves. Sisam too was a distinguished New Zealand scholar at Oxford).

You’ll find the carol in Helen Gardner’s New Oxford Book of English Verse. The idiom of this late Middle English, popular verse seemed to lie between the literary language of Chaucer and Langland, and the early Tudor poets who are still broadly comprehensible to our ears.

Readings: Bryan Crump
There were three later readings, by Bryan Crump who is familiar as an RNZ news reader. The first relating to a Christmas at Scott Base from a journal of Harry Jones, with amusing observations; the second, Marsden’s account of the first Christmas celebration in New Zealand, in 1814: a bit revelatory, especially in light of later exposure of Marsden’s violent proclivities; and finally a delightfully droll letter to Mark Twain’s (Samuel Clemens) daughter from Father Christmas.

The ‘serious’ music was interspersed by traditional carols in which the audience was required to join: God rest ye merry, gentlemen (in the programme, victim of common mis-punctuation – the comma before ‘merry’); Silent Night; Good King Wenceslas; Silent Night.

Tallis: Missa puer natus est nobis
The ‘composed’ music was by all those named in the heading. Tallis ‘Christmas Mass’, Missa puer natus est nobis, was divided into three parts and sung at three points in the programme; so it set the concert in what might be considered the heartland of Renaissance choral music. It is regarded as untypical of the Tallis known in most of his other music, perhaps because it was composed as the Catholic monarch, Mary, came to the throne in 1553, after the reigns of Henry VIII and Edward VI, offering a much more friendly climate for Catholic musicians, as Tallis was. The absence from the score of soprano voices is attributed to Mary’s marriage to Philip II of Spain (the same Philip who features in Schiller’s and Verdi’s Don Carlos) whose Chapel Royal which was resident in England with the king seems not to have used high treble voices.

Bits of the mass had been published in the monumental ten-volume Tudor Church Music series in 1928 but no satisfactory performing version was known till 1961, when additional sections were discovered. Though the Mass remains incomplete (most of the Credo is still lost and some of the other movements have missing voices), it has now had several impressive recorded performances; it is now regarded as one of the great masterpieces of the Tudor era. A scholarly edition appeared in 1977 (these details from an article in the Musical Times, on the Internet).

Its characteristics
It has no Kyrie, but begins with the Gloria. As noted in Michael Stewart’s comment below, it follows the shape of Taverner’s Missa Gloria tibi trinitas which was sung by the Tudor Consort in February last year; I reviewed it but had forgotten that detail. I’d noted there that the Kyrie was not regarded as part of the Ordinary of the Mass before the Reformation; though I’m not sure that’s altogether correct. Further, Tallis scored his mass for seven voices; seven soloists led it while the rest of the choir (as far as I could tell, sitting some way back) contributed wonderful richness to the Gloria, in which men’s voices dominated initially, while the high voices soon entered creating a luminous quality above the wonderful polyphony of the middle vocal lines.

I had wondered about references in other sources to the scoring, for seven voices, but no sopranos. When I contacted Michael Stewart to clarify it, he told me he’d mentioned it in his pre-concert talk, which I had missed; he explained: “The sopranos were singing ‘mean’ parts, which had a lower range than the ‘treble’ parts that one would expect from earlier music such as the masses of John Taverner… Compare the tessitura of the Tallis compared with the very high lines the sopranos had to negotiate in last year’s performance of Taverner’s Missa Gloria tibi trinitas for instance. The mass would undoubtedly have been performed lower and with falsettists singing the women’s parts, but that necessitates men who can sing very low and very high, and would preclude the sopranos involvement!”

The second part of Tallis’s ‘Christmas Mass’ opened the second part of the programme: Sanctus and Benedictus. The solo sopranos (Chelsea Whitfield and Phoebe Sparrow) were also conspicuous in here. (The other soloists were Megan Hurnard – alto, Philip Roderick and Garth Norman – tenors, David Houston and Simon Christie – basses). The elaborate counterpoint, taking the text on interesting journeys in the Sanctus; the Benedictus lowered the dynamic level distinctly, giving the sopranos a hushed, ecstatic quality. The Agnus Dei was sung towards the end of the concert, slow and placatory, rhythmically complex, and harmonically dense.

Other Renaissance and later music
Much of the other music was also from the Renaissance, consolidating our feeling for the variety to be found in the early period (Mouton’s Nasciens Mater and the two more secular Spanish pieces, with peasantish, dancelike suggestions), and later composers (Byrd’s English setting of This day Christ was born and Praetorius’s In dulci jubilo).

Particularly striking were two liturgical settings by composers primarily known for orchestral and instrumental music: Rachmaninov and Poulenc: the best-known section from Rachmaninov’s Vespers (‘All night Vigil’), deeply felt, employing idiomatic-sounding Russian, Bogoroditse devo; and Poulenc’s O magnum mysterium the first of his ‘Four Motets for Christmas’.  It was a sumptuous, yet delicate performance that to me remains a fine model of mid-20th century music that is engaging and accessible and at the same time inventive, and sounding clearly of it age.

Music of the 19th and 20th centuries filled most of the second half: two distinct pieces entitled ‘The Three Kings’ (set to different poems), by Healey Willan (a curious yet interesting setting of a poem by Laurence  Housman – brother of A E H), and Peter Cornelius (better known perhaps as an opera composer – The Barber of Bagdad, still heard occasionally in Germany), with a very taxing solo part from Simon Christie.

Finally, pieces by Herbert Howells and Richard Madden. Howells’ ‘Here is a little door’, a curious, childlike text set to music that always strikes me as the quintessentially English, religious manner. While that was an a cappella piece, a 15th century verse, ‘I sing of a maiden’ by still-living Richard Madden was accompanied by Chelsea Whitfield at the organ, with solos by Phoebe Sparrow and Philip Roderick.

The pair of Spanish songs returned us to the 16th century, with composers Matteo Flecha ‘El Vielo’ and Francisco Guerrero: Guerrero’s A un Nino Llorando, with opportunities for well-contrasted female soloists to be heard (Whitfield, Melanie Newfield, Jane McKinlay, Andrea Cochrane and Amanda Barclay); and the latter a peasant-like, Christmas-related song in Riu riu chiu which offered a chance to hear other than seriously liturgical Spanish music of the period (with three good bass soloists – Christie, Houston and Thomas Drent).

 

Christmas (mainly) choral concerts of the past three weeks  

Vox Serbica
Cantoris
Supertonic Choir
A Soprani Christmas (Duo of singers Paloma Bruce and Ruth Armishaw)
Wainuiomata Choir
Baroque Voices in Monteverdi (not strictly Christmas)
Wellington Young Voices
Metropolitan Cathedral Choirs and Orchestra
Tudor Consort
Orpheus Choir and NZSO Messiah
Bach Choir
Festival Singers and The Northern Chorale
Nota Bene:

And to come:

Messiaen’s La Nativité – organ Brian Cash
Counsel in Concert (not strictly Christmas)
Baroque Voices with Palliser Viols

Masses in times of war celebrated by the Bach Choir under Ivan Patterson

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Kodály: Missa Brevis
Haydn: Mass in D minor, H 22/11 (Missa in Angustiis or ‘Nelson’ Mass)

Bach Choir of Wellington, conducted by Ivan Patterson, with Douglas Mews (organ), Rowena Simpson (soprano), Maaike Christie-Beekman (mezzo), Jamie Young (tenor), Simon Christie (bass)

St. Peter’s Church, Willis Street

Sunday, 10 December 2017, 3 pm

With a great line-up of soloists and some marvellous music to sing, the stars were lined up well for the Bach Choir’s concert.  A sizeable audience was present to hear them.  The title for the concert derives from the fact that both masses were written under the stress of wartime conditions: Napoleonic Wars in Haydn’s case and the Russians beating back the Nazis in Budapest in 1943 in Kodály’s case.  The latter work had extra point by being performed within days of the composer’s birthday.

While the Haydn work was written to be performed with orchestra (here, organ substituted), the Kodály was scored for chorus and organ in its original version.  An impressive organ prelude to the work was almost impeccably played by Douglas Mews, and formed a fine introduction.  It was followed by a beautiful, almost ethereal ‘Kyrie’ movement. from the choir.

Jamie Young intoned the plainsong chant before the appropriate movements; before the ‘Gloria’ it immediately was striking and firm.  The choir followed, also strongly.  The soloists turn came in ‘Qui tollis’; it was notable for the solo singing of Maaike Christie-Beekman, who was strong and confident as usual, as well as producing a lovely tone.  Then Simon Christie sang, his sound firm and rich, followed by Jamie Young.  Finally the choir took over at ‘Tu solus sanctus’ and made a good ending to the movement.

Throughout, Kodály’s clear, uncompromising, different harmonies were apparent, but made some difficulties for the choir; intonation sagged in a few places, mainly in quiet passages.  Otherwise the singing was good, and clear.  Having sung this work, I know it is not easy.  Not only are some of the harmonies difficult, the bass notes required to be sung are sometimes very low.

The ‘Credo’ is sung by the choir, and the music differs for its three sections: God the Father and Creator; Christ’s Incarnation and Crucifixion; his Resurrection and Ascension.  The colours, tempi and moods of the music were expressed well by the choir, and words for the most part were clear.  The tone from the sopranos especially was splendid.

The ‘Sanctus’ opened with pianissimo from the women.  The altos sounded less secure than the sopranos.  Here, as elsewhere, there was plenty of contrast, and key modulations.  There was a need for more attention to consistent vowel shaping.

Varying tonalities featured in the ‘Benedictus’ also.  The choir a few times were not totally with the organ rhythmically.  The high notes for the sopranos were excellent.  However, I found grating the constant ‘Hosannerin’, having been tutored in choirs to make a brief glottal stop after the final ‘a’ in the word.

In the ‘Agnus Dei’, the ‘qui tollis’ was most beautifully introduced from the tenor and mezzo, soon joined by stratospheric sopranos.  It was delightful to hear ‘Agnus dei’ pronounced beautifully, and not as ‘Agnes Day’, who made an appearance on the radio in the morning.

The Missa Brevis is an impressive work, and some but not all of this was conveyed by this performance.  Douglas Mews had a huge role in this; the work ended with a magnificent postlude from him.

The ‘Nelson’ Mass is a very different work, although it too featured a grand organ introduction (in this version)..  Then the soprano appears early in the piece; her ‘Kyrie’ was clear and strong.  The choir men, however, were not quite in tempo for a bit following their entry.

In this mass in this mass there are wonderful contrasts between the grand and the intimate.  The ‘Gloria’ introduced the soloists – soprano, tenor and bass; all were first-class, and a joy to hear.  Douglas Mews’s variations of registrations throughout echoed the instruments that would be heard in the full orchestral version, and were splendidly realised.  Simon Christie gave us some gorgeous low notes in ‘Qui tollis’ against Mews’s gorgeous organ.  Rowena Simpson’s ‘deprecationem nostram’ was superb, likeweise the ‘quoniam’.  Some of the men’s vowels were what Peter Godfrey would have called ‘agricultural’.  Intonation was more secure here than in the preceding work, but then the Haydn is much easier to pitch.  Rowena Simpson had plenty of radiant solo singing in the here, whereas she did not have much to do in the Missa Brevis.

However, pitch dropped ajust a little in the ‘Credo’ movement.  The lively parts of the ‘Credo’, such as ‘Et incarnatus est’ found the choir flexible and agile.  ‘The ‘Et resurrexit’ was taken very fast, but the choir coped.  There are so many felicities in this wonderful work.

The ‘Sanctus’ received a splendid performance.  A feature of the ‘Benedictus’ was the beautifully phrased and articulated organ part.  There were a few raw notes from the tenors, but the rest of the choir sounded very good.  As elsewhere, the writing provided plenty of climaxes.

The ‘Agnus Dei’ was cheerful in character, yet subtle too, with complex interweaving of the soloists’ quartet.  They then joined the choir in the final ‘Dona nobis pacem’ section.

Altogether, it was a most successful concert.  The voices soared, as did the audience’s spirits.  Thank you Papa Haydn, Kodály and Bach Choir, accompanist and soloists.  St. Peter’s proved to be an excellent e with its beautifully restored pipe organ, its fine acoustics and its good lighting.

 

Handel’s Messiah – music as a living entity

Posted on by Peter Mechen

The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra presents:
HANDEL – Messiah

Celeste Lazarenko (soprano)
Deborah Humble (mezzo-soprano)
Robert Macfarlane (tenor)
Jared Holt (bass)

The Orpheus Choir of Wellington
Chorusmaster: Brent Stewart

The New Zealand Symphony Orchestra
Conductor: Brett Weymark

Michael Fowler Centre, Wellington

Saturday, 9th December, 2017

This was a most interesting “Messiah”, containing as it did a number of interpretative and executive detailings I wouldn’t quite frankly have expected to encounter in the same single performance. Of course, for me to actually say that goes against the grain of what I’ve always felt about Baroque Music and its presentation, that its composers and musicians (and almost certainly its listeners as well) would have been intensely practical people for whom “getting the music out there” was the absolute priority, however consistent or inconsistent might have seemed the various detailings of the performances’ style or textural fidelity.

Most composers in that era were themselves performers, and for that reason were well acquainted with the practicalities of live music-making, with all its attendant thrills and spills. For this reason I’m inclined to think the average Baroque composer would have been somewhat puzzled at our present-day obsession with so-called “correct” and “authentic” performance practice, especially considering the extent to which conjecture plays a part in making present-day decisions as to how this music was played/ought to be played. There is so much we simply don’t know regarding how they did it in Handel’s time.

Some musicologists, are worried that the in-vogue HIP (historically-informed performance) movement has, by prohibiting any way of playing it except for what is deemed the “correct” way, had the effect over the years of putting early music increasingly in a museum rather than in a “living” context. This “holier-than-thou” attitude is now increasingly coming under fire, its critics declaring that HIP should be a means towards more imaginative music-making, and not an end in itself. And performers are excitingly taking more and more notice of this attitude, as witness what took place during parts of this “Messiah” performance.

It was obvious, right from the work’s beginning, that the conductor, Brett Weymark, had schooled his orchestral forces to deliver crisp, lean orchestral textures which kept Handel’s contrapuntal writing clear and exciting in its vigour and muscularity. In fact the orchestral playing throughout the work was a joy, the textures allowing the different voices to convey whatever character was needed from the context of the separate parts with clarity and focus, from the bright and forceful tones accompanying the Halleluiah Chorus, to the hushed, withdrawn atmospheres accompanying the bass’s recitative “For Behold, darkness shall cover the earth”.

What a delightful surprise, then, to encounter, in the normally strings-only “Pastoral Symphony” two oboes playing the melody in thirds – my thought was “Why didn’t Handel score it this way?” After all the oboe was one of his favourite instruments. It all sounded absolutely enchanting, and very appropriately “pastoral”, as if the shepherds were playing their instruments to their sheep.

The other instrumental contributions which need to be honorably mentioned are those from the solo violinist (Yuka Eguchi in tremendous form as acting concertmaster), solo cellist Andrew Joyce, often a supporting continuo partner to his leader, and playing as beautifully, along with organist Douglas Mews, and trumpeters Mark Carter and Michael Kirgan, the pair magical in the “Glory to God” sequences and splendid in the Halleluiah Chorus and in the final Chorus. And then Michael Kirgan’s solo in “The trumpet shall sound” made a splendid and festive impression throughout.

The chorus work matched the orchestral playing in impact, clarity, energy, colour and delicacy. In places I thought the tenors lacked the last ounce of “heft” (a common problem among choirs), but still contributed to the overall magnificence of the sound with focused commitment. Right from the opening chorus “And the Glory of The Lord” the voices grabbed and held our attention, as much by dint of the variety and colour of the different lines and by the singing’s overall strength and energy. Only briefly did the voices as a whole disappoint, when, during the opening of “Since Man came by Death” they didn’t invest the opening sotto voce murmurings with sufficient awe and despair, so that the outburst which followed had less contrasting impact. That apart, I thought the chorus work among the best I’d ever heard in a “live” Messiah performance. From so many terrific renditions of individual choruses I particularly liked “Surely he hath borne our griefs” – biting, theatrical and dramatic!

The soloists each had different strengths to offer, beginning with the engaging enthusiasm of tenor Robert Mcfarlane, with a warmly reassuring “Comfort Ye”, the voice with a slight warble under pressure, and lacking that last ounce of breath control to bring off the floating aspect of some of his held notes. Nevertheless it was a strong and characterful beginning, with qualities that he later brought to his extended sequence of recitatives and arias concluding with the vigorous ”Thou shalt break them”, a taxing succession of recitative and arias whose focus and purpose he maintained with credit.. He also added a theatrical touch during this sequence, actually turning and facing the chorus during their singing of “He trusted in God”, as if he was Christ directly confronting his tormentors.

Bass Jared Holt certainly gave his contributions everything he had, summoning up great dignity and sufficient portentousness to deliver “For behold” and its following aria “The people that walked” – while not a particularly deep bass, he made up in emphasis and characterization what his voice lacked in true heft, as he did also for “The trumpet shall sound”, later in the work. A curiosity, which I’d never before encountered, was the recitative treatment he gave to ”But who may abide” which prompted a whispered comment from my partner, “Is this the Readers Digest version?”

I thought mezzo-soprano Deborah Humble’s finest moment in the work came with “He was despised” whose opening phrases received particularly heartfelt treatment, the pauses between each statement given enough time to register and generate pity and wonderment; and then the middle section startlingly changing its character to one of great vehemence, vividly presenting the condemned man’s acquiescence in stark contrast to the pitiless and methodical cruelty and scorn inflicted upon him. Elsewhere she occasionally found, as do most mezzos, the music too low in places to be sufficiently “sounded”, though another memorable sequence was her duet with the tenor “Oh Death, where is thy sting”, both singers giving their irruptions of energy to one another and building up a sense of exultation at the victory of life and goodness.

Soprano Celeste Lazarenko used her beautiful voice exquisitely in places, playing her part in painting a wonderous scene of revelation to the shepherds in the fields, and conveying a sense of growing excitement at the presence of the heavenly host of angels – a great moment! She also made the most of “I know that my Redeemer liveth”, her voice reaching upwards with absolute security to those celestial heights in the music which convey such a sense of exultation. It was a voice whose sheer sound gave a lot of pleasure, which she used most winningly to focus on the music’s ecstatic quality.

I mentioned the performance’s capacity to surprise in places, never more so than at the beginning of the final “Amen” Chorus, when the soloists congregated together and individually began the fugue, singing the whole of the passage up to the entry of the strings. The conductor’s slow tempi gave a slightly mannered effect, which was emphasized when both strings and then the chorus came in at a faster pace – but nevertheless the idea and its execution certainly grabbed our attention. The rest was what we expected, but the point had been made – the work had been treated as a living entity in places, cocking a snoot at tradition for its own sakes and daring to reimagine some passages without doing violence to the whole. And the skill and sensibility of the performers ensured that whatever was done was brought off with style and focus, adding to a sense of wonderment and renewal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wellington Young Voices weave their own magic at Old St.Paul’s

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

‘Magic in the air’

Wellington Young Voices, conducted by Christine Argyle and Anya Nazaruk, accompanied by Rosemary Russell

Old St. Paul’s, Thorndon

Sunday 3 December 2017, at 4pm

About 30 young singers between the ages of 8 and 14, 10 of them boys, performed a delightful programme to a substantial audience. The programme included four Christmas carols for the audience to sing with the choir.

The concert began with an attractive carol ‘Sing with the angels, Gloria!’, with words and music by Tawa music education supremo Shona Murray. The young singers soon showed that they were well-trained – not only musically; all their items were sung from memory. This item was conducted by Christine Argyle; she interspersed throughout the programme with assistant conductor, now to be Music Director, Anya Nazaruk, conducting some items. Throughout, Rosemary Russell was a supportive and sympathetic accompanist. The choir sang in parts here and elsewhere in the programme, almost always with accuracy and good musical effect, though sometimes there was a lack of expression and things became a little mechanical.

The choir then sang ‘What child shall come?’, more often known as ‘What child is this?’, sung with fine tone. It was followed by a piece entitled ‘Snowgum’, by Louise Pettinger, with soloists Clara Kennedy and Holly Martin, who sang in duet very well. A handicap was the inability of conductor Nazaruk in particular to speak loudly enough to be heard through much of the venue; I was sitting only three rows from the front, on the side, but picked up little of what she said. A microphone was provided for the children to sing into – it just gently amplified the young soloists voices; it would have been admirable to use it for the conductors to speak into also. Later, another microphone was used when speeches were made, particularly marking Christine Argyle’s retirement from the musical directorship.

The audience stretched its legs and vocal chords in singing ‘Deck the hall’, which was followed by ‘Amid the falling snow’ by Enya. A duet featured in this item also. Words here, and through much of the programme, were clearly enunciated. ‘African Noel’ by Dave and Jean Perry, was something different. Here, Rosemary Russell deserted the piano and played percussion, principally a drum. Anya Nazuaruk took over piano responsibilities for a bit, with ‘Walking in the air’ by Howard Blake, with a solo beautifully sung by Sophie Fulton. Her voice was very true, and for the most part her words were distinct.

John Rutter was the next composer; we heard his ‘Angels’ Carol’. Could there be a Christmas concert these days without an item from this prolific British choral composer?   There was pleasing tone from the choir and the two soloists, though expression was lacking somewhat. The first half ended with the audience joining in ‘Away in a manger’.

‘Sing for Joy’ by Handel opened the second half; this is a chorus from his oratorio Judas Maccabæus.   It was sung very well. ‘A maiden most gentle’ by Andrew Carter was sung in harmony, and again, the choir demonstrated that it really knew its repertoire.

After all had joined in ‘Once in Royal David’s city’, an arrangement of ‘Silent Night’ by Laura Farnell, entitled ‘On this still, silent night’ was presented. The excellence of the choir’s atttack in starting and ending phrases and pieces absolutely together was especially notable here. ‘Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer’ by Johnny Marks was not the most successful of duets, the singers’ intonation being frequently off the mark.

‘Hark the herald angels sing’ was sung by all, and then we had the speech and presentation from Chair Judy McKoy paying tribute to Christine Argyle’s work in founding then directing the choir; in fact being the driving force behind the venture. After Christine Argyle’s response, in which she paid tribute to numbers of people who had assisted, the choir ended the concert with an Austrian folksong ‘Song of farewell’ and ‘Holiday lights’ by Sally Albrecht and Jay Althouse. It was a fun piece, sung in the dark with flashlights making light patterns.

What a marvellous development this choir has been! Inspiring, the result of hard work, and hopefully setting young people on a path of enjoyment of and participation in music. Bravo, Christine and colleagues!

Monteverdi again – at last! – The Fifth Book of Madrigals, from Baroque Voices

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Baroque Voices presents:
“The Full Monte “ (Concert 5)

MONTEVERDI – “Il Quinto Libro de Madrigali” (The Fifth Book of Madrigals)

Baroque Voices:
Pepe Becker (director), Nicola Holt (sopranos)
Milla Dickens, Toby Gee (altos)
Peter Dyne, Patrick Pond (tenors)
David Morriss (bass)

Robert Oliver (bass viol)
Douglas Mews (harpsichord)

Newtown Community Centre Theatre,
Newtown, Wellington

Sunday, 3rd December, 2017

Continuing with a concert series which began in 2011, Baroque Voices, led by the intrepid and perennially fresh-voiced Pepe Becker, performed for us on this occasion all but the final madrigal in Monteverdi’s “Quinto Libro” (Book Five), the last-named requiring a greater number of singers than the rest of the collection. The group has, sometimes, in these concerts, re-ordered the chronology of the works (Book Four, for example, was interspersed with accompanied madrigals from Book Seven), so as to give listeners a fuller idea of the range and variety of the composer’s invention. It could therefore be that the omitted madrigal from Book Five will suddenly “pop up” in another, fuller-voiced context in the series.

At the point of producing his Book Five of these madrigals, Monteverdi was putting revolutionary ideas into practice of a kind that earned him criticism from his contemporaries, not only as regards musical style but also content (for example, his madrigal “Cruda Amarilli”, featured on today’s programme, was condemned for its “crudities” and “licence” by a fellow-composer). He was certainly throwing down the gauntlet in front of traditional notions of propriety in vocal music by declaring that the words and their meanings had primacy, and the music took its cues from these – ‘the words the mistress of the harmony and not the servant”.

Our proximity to the singers, plus the venue’s lively and immediate acoustic, enabled us to relish all the more these characteristics some of Monteverdi’s peers found so questionable. In fact the marriage of texts and tones wrought by the Voices gave considerable pleasure to the ear throughout the concert, aided, of course, by access to the actual words via a splendidly-annotated and informative programme booklet. We could thus appreciate all the more the group’s explorations of shade upon shade of expression in places like the opening madrigal’s lament “amaramente insegni”(love’s bitterness) and towards the end of the piece, the resigned“I mi moro tacendo” (I shall die in silence”), the intensities obviously “too close for comfort” for certain of the composer’s fellows.

Amazingly, the last of the “Full Monte” presentations by Baroque voices took place no less than four years ago, giving the present concert something of a “prodigal child” aspect, an entity wandering in some kind of wilderness before finally returning home. Over such a period of time things obviously change and people come and go, to the point here where the group’s leader, Pepe Becker, was the only “voice” common to both occasions. Happily, the group’s overall standards of ensemble, intonation and stylistic awareness seemed as well-suited to the repertoire as ever – and I thought in fact, there was a freshness about the approach which suggested some kind of renewal of energies and purpose regarding the project as a whole.

As with the other concerts in this series, the musical riches were too many and varied to document in detail, requiring more of a thesis than a review to do so. I‘ve thus contented myself with relishing the effect of the whole and pinpointing a few particular moments which have stayed in the memory for reasons of impact and resonance. I should at this stage mention the sterling support given the singers by the continuo players, Robert Oliver (bass viol) and Douglas Mews (harpsichord), their playing exquisitely underlining the felicities of the singers’ realisations throughout.

Leading from the front, Pepe Becker’s voice seemed to me in particularly fine fettle, as pure, focused and flexible of tone as ever, able to “float” her lines with as much freedom as I previously remembered. She was well-partnered by fellow-soprano Nicola Holt, their combination producing ecstatic moments throughout the concert – for instance, some amazingly stratospheric singing from the sopranos at the opening of No. 5, “Dorinda, ah, diro….”, the rest finely-chiselled evocations of despair from all voices leading towards bitter resignation at “Sarai con la mia morte” (You shall be mine as I die).

These beautifully-gradated and –realised expressions of acceptance within grief linked the work to the following madrigal, “Ecco piegando” (Here am I…”), though startling with its plea to the lover to “wound this heart that was so cruel to you” (“ferisci questo cor che ti fu crudo”). Already, there was plenty of drama and depth of feeling generated by the opening of the third madrigal“Era l’anima mia” with its sombre depictions from the men’s voices of a soul on the point of farewelling life! And what theatricality at the point when the women’s voices brought “a fairer and more graceful soul” to bear on the scenario, the light illuminating the textures and leading towards that extraordinary extended treatment of the madrigal’s last line “Se mori, ohime, non mori tu, mor’ io? “ (If you die, it is, alas, not you who dies, but I).

Further resisting the temptation to construct a self-indulgent compendium of further on-going delights, I’ll instead concentrate on the performance of the final trio of madrigals, each of which highlighted particular singers’ qualities as well as presenting the group in a true and favourable sense. No.16, “Amor se giusto sei” (Love, if you are just) is a plea to Love itself to be “just”, in making the poet’s beloved properly appreciative of his feelings for her, rather than contemptuous and scornful. It was a chance for both tenor and bass to figure with significant solo passages, each taking his turn to floridly and impassionedly voice his sorrow and frustration at his beloved’s indifference to his protestations. Here, surely were the seeds of the new “operatic” manner about to take music by storm given some of their first expressions in these works; and each of the singers here relished the opportunity to “emote” in an engaging and theatrical manner.

The following “T’amo mia vita” (I love you, my life!) featured the men replying to the soprano’s opening statement, caressing the idea of “in questa sola si soave parola” (this single, gentle word”, expressing emotion with the utmost delight, and, later  declaring “prendila tosto Amore” (seize love quickly). The ensemble skillfully caught the music’s ebb and flow between impulsive energy and rapturous languidity, conveying to us a sensual enjoyment of the lines wholly characteristic of the composer’s output.

Concluding the concert was the last but one Madrigal from the Fifth Book, “E cosi a poco a poco” (And thus, little by little”), the ensemble detailed and demonstrative at the beginning with the two sopranos especially vibrant, preparing the way for the men’s declamatory “Che spegne antico incendio” (Whoever quenches an ancient fire”), the subsequent exchanges and interactions more declamatory and conversational than melodic, the operatic spirit again spreading its wings ready to take flight. A repetition of “Che spegne antico incendio” featured the whole group, and built most satisfyingly to a resounding conclusion.

Though audience numbers were disappointingly few, the concert’s glorious sounds resounded with as much splendour as if we had been in St Mark’s in Venice. One hopes that Pepe Becker and her Voices will get sufficient support to continue their journey, helping to bring this music and its composer to a rightful place in the endlessly detailed musical tapestry of music for the ages. How wonderful to have in Wellington musicians, singers and instrumentalists, of the calibre to be able to do this incredible music justice!

 

 

 

 

 

A polished and scrupulously studied recital by male vocal quartet, Aurora IV

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Aurora IV: singing Renaissance to 20th century music
Toby Gee (alto counter-tenor), Richard Taylor (tenor), Julian Chu-Tan (tenor, Simon Christie (bass)

Music by Þorkell Sigurbjörnsson, Byrd, Jean Mouton, Richard Lloyd, Lasso, Ludovico da Viadano, Poulenc, Tallis, Andrew Smith

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Wednesday 22 November 2017, 12:15 pm

I’m fairly sure that this was my first hearing of Aurora IV, a male vocal quartet whose repertoire stretches from the 16th to the 21st century, though I have long been familiar with Simon Christie’s voice and recall hearing Richard Taylor in other groups, particularly The Tudor Consort.

One of the characteristics of the recital was the choice of words and music from widely separate eras. Thus the opening piece was a two-year-old setting of a hymn by 13th century Icelandic poet Kolbeinn Tumason. The programme took the trouble of spelling the Icelandic names using authentic letters, using the voiced ‘þ’ and unvoiced ‘ð’ which in English, of course, are left undistinguished by ‘th’.*

The modern setting of Kolbeinn Tumason’s Heyr himna smiður by Þorkell Sigurbjörnsson made strong references to early Renaissance music, which these musically literate singers captured very convincingly; it provided, for me, a chance to be highly impressed by the effective blending and dynamic uniformity of their voices, without in the least avoiding illuminating particular voices where called for.

The first, ‘Kyrie eleison’, of three parts of Byrd’s Mass for Four Voices followed. Here bass Simon Christie as well as male alto Toby Gee, emerged prominently, though the two tenors were obviously important in filling the rich polyphony. Neither ‘Gloria’ nor ‘Credo’ were performed here, and the ‘Sanctus’ and ‘Benedictus’ followed later: the former an interesting contrapuntal piece in which, again, the quality of each voice was conspicuous.

Tenor Richard Taylor seemed to take the lead at the start of the calmer, devotional ‘Benedictus’. The recital ended with the quartet singing the ‘Agnus Dei’, full of pain; till then I had not been particularly aware of second tenor, Julian Chu-Tan, as I was on the right while he faced left. But here I became more aware of him, slightly less robust that Taylor, but perhaps even more finely attuned to the character of the quartet as a whole which presented such a finely nuanced and spiritually persuasive presentation that it’s quite unreasonable to attempt to characterise individual voices.

To resume the order of the programme: Jean Mouton, one of the leading French composers of the 15th-16th centuries, his ‘Quis dabit oculis nostris’; in spite of my hesitation above, here were prominent and moving offerings by Taylor and Gee, in this beautiful lament on the death of his patron Anna of Brittany in 1514. It captured a uniquely idiomatic French style with integrity.

Then a modern English setting of a lyric by 13th century theologian Thomas Aquinas, ‘Adoro te devote’. The composer is Richard Lloyd, composed, as with the Icelandic piece, in 2013, and similarly embracing an authentic Renaissance sound, though with a melodic and harmonic character that rather gives away it more recent origin.

The variety of spellings of Lassus’s name (Orlande de Lassus, Roland de Lassus, Orlando di Lasso, Orlandus Lassus and many others) arises partly from his peripatetic earlier life, born in the Netherlands – in Hainaut, now in Belgium – travelled and worked in France and Italy, but eventually settled in Munich; contemporary of Palestina, Tallis, Byrd….

His ‘Matona, mia caro’ lends itself to a variety of approaches, sometimes by women, sometimes by mixed voices, and by large choirs; these singers adopted a lively, crisp rendition that stressed its exuberance and light-heartedness, even music to dance to. I’ve heard it sung in very differently ways, sometimes like a religious motet; Aurora IV carried the folk, onomatopoeic character ‘don don don…’ excellently.

Ludovico da Viadano who composed ‘Exultate iusti in Domino’, the words from Psalm 33, might be a relatively obscure composer, but his motet seems to be widely popular judging by the number of performances to be found on YouTube. It’s spirited, almost dancing in its energy, starting and ending in triple time, while the main central part is in solid common time. Here was another delightful late Renaissance song that should be popular with young choirs.

Poulenc seemed an abnormal phenomenon in the midst of Renaissance or pseudo-Renaissance song. Two of his ‘Four Prayers’ (Quatre petites prières de Saint François d’Assise) served to sharpen musical receptivity, though presenting a spirit that seemed ambivalent, outside the mainstream. Toby Gee introduced them. They were composed at Poulenc’s Loire Valley refuge, Noizay, in 1948. ‘Tout puisant’ (‘All Powerful’), the second of them, in somewhat ardent, laudatory spirit, was in a distinctively 20th century idiom, faintly coloured by an earlier style, vaguely Renaissance     not easily definable     . The third Prayer is Seigneur, je vous en prie (‘Lord, I implore you’); it presented itself with more sobriety, in a minor key, with a striking passage from Richard Taylor towards the end.

One had been waiting for Tallis in this company. ‘If ye love me, keep my commandments’ fulfilled the Tallis need, with its restraint, its sombre, exquisite tone, seeming to suggest that Tallis had found a balance between the religious conflicts of the age (it was published in 1560, just after Elizabeth had come to the throne, meaning an abrupt shift from the ruthless Catholicism of Mary).  A beautiful performance of a beautiful motet.

Another recent Biblical setting by Norwegian composer Andrew Smith (born in Liverpool, moved to Norway in his teens) picked up on a pattern common in the recital. I didn’t record remarks about the version sung here, which was based on an anonymous 13th century English motet, of words from Isaiah. Presumably, the striking, spare harmonies, infusing the recent arrangement, reflected the original setting (or was it wholly recomposed, in a sympathetic style?).

And it ended with the Byrd’s Agnus Dei which I touched on above, concluding an intelligent, seriously well-studied and polished recital of four-part polyphony.

 

* I was familiar with these Icelandic letters since they were used for the same sounds in Anglo-Saxon, which was a compulsory element in university English language and literature studies in my day. A paper in Icelandic, including readings in the sagas, some originating in the 9th century, but recorded from the 13th century, was an optional paper at master’s level. Further trivia: the Sagas, e.g the Saga of the Volsungs, and the Poetic Edda, were important sources for Wagner in the Ring cycle.

Wellington’s professional chamber choir ends successful second year

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Inspirare – a professional choral ensemble directed by Mark Stamper, with Tawa College’s chamber choir, Blue Notes, conducted by Isaac Stone

The Cycle of Life: Music by Kerry Marsh, David Childs, Gwyneth Walker, Daniel Elder, Rautavaara, Ben Parry, Morten Lauridsen, Matthew Harris, Stenhammar, William Finn, Jeffrey Derus, Sandra Milliken, Zachary Moore and Copland

St Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday 5 November, 3 pm

Middle C attended and reviewed the inaugural concert by this professional chamber choir on 4 September 2016, and we reviewed their previous concert on 13 August this year.

Each of those concerts had a theme, and so did this one: The Cycle of Life using two of the immediate seasons: Winter and Spring – symbolising death and life, characterising the nature of those seasons from a North American perspective – probably the north-east where the seasons are very distinct.

Mark Stamper introduced the concert, and at once encountered an unfortunate difficulty: an unresponsive microphone; although he spoke more loudly, I wasn’t able to understand much of what he said, perhaps impaired as I was sitting in the gallery. That mattered as one relies on a certain amount of oral commentary because song lyrics were not provided in the printed programme which, in the circumstances, would have been useful. Otherwise, the stylish programme was evidence of the polished, professional character of the concert.

The concert followed the pattern established earlier, of involving a young choir to sing either on their own or as part of a larger ensemble. This time the associated choir was Tawa College’s Blue Notes, under Isaac Stone (who’s also a member of Inspirare).

The choir set itself a hurdle from the start by choosing the theme of Winter, symbolising Death, which prescribed music likely to be cold, elegiac, melancholy, though it was by no means always despairing in spirit. The second half restored the balance with Spring with its celebration of renewed life.

Blue Notes took its place at the beginning; they opened with an evocative piece, Justin Vernon’s Woods (arranged by Kerry Marsh, who seems to dominate the credits for the performing version). It’s based on a single motif, and starts with one, then two voices before additional vocal lines build to a dense ensemble engaging in the entire choir. A nice piece for a versatile college choir that could tap their likely predisposition for popular, genuine, thoughtfully sentimental music. It was a splendid demonstration of the choir’s talents, their dynamic control and engaging tonal synthesis.

Next was Peace, my Heart, by New Zealand composer, David Childs, now a prominent figure in the United States choral music scene. Blue Notes won a Silver Award at the 2017 Big Sing choral festival with Peace, my Heart. Calm, meditative, consoling, it called for a cello obbligato which, hinting momentarily at the Bach cello suites, was sympathetically played by choir member and all-round musician Benny Sneyd-Utting.

The college choir then retreated and the women of the adult choir took over (I failed to notice whether the girls from Blue Notes had remained to support the choral element, but on reflection, realised they must have), beginning with Gwyneth Walker’s In Autumn (a departure from the general theme of the concert). Though the poem was read by the conductor, it was not really a substitute for being able to read the words: songs are only partly the music, and it deprives the listener of an appreciation of the way the music reflects the sense of the poem. However, this first offering by Inspirare itself spoke emphatically of a choir comprising fine voices that had been scrupulously rehearsed. It opened with two soloists from the choir, soprano Inese Berzina and mezzo Linden Loader, from which the course of the song gradually intensified. Fiona McCabe’s rippling piano accompaniment lent it an unusual quality, supporting high lines created by the women.

The toughest work in the programme followed: Finnish composer Rautavaara’s Suite de Lorca, settings of four poems from various parts of Spanish poet Federico Garcia Lorca’s oeuvre. Mostly stark, bleak pieces that seem to presage the poet’s grisly death at the hands of Franco’s fascists. Capturing their character convincingly, in Spanish, (and it was particularly good to have the translated words on an insert) they began with the galloping ‘Canción del jinete’, addressing Cordoba, the destination that he will not reach (Lorca was actually killed near Granada). ‘El grito’ (the scream) perhaps a gloss on Munch’s famous painting, its fearfulness was followed, strangely, in the same key, by ‘La luna asoma’ (The Moon Rises), at once bright and chilling, punctuated by Pasquale Orchard’s mezzo voice rising high over it. There was no hint in the uneasy ‘Malagueña’, of a more familiar evocation of the Malaga to be found in Albeniz or Granados. (‘Death comes and goes from the tavern’). The choir’s fine command of the emotionally powerful poems and their unflinching settings was outstanding.

Ben Parry’s The Ground lies hard again reflected a bleak though changeable picture of a winter landscape. And Winter was finally summed up in a set of unforgivingly gritty Mid-winter Songs by Morton Lauridsen. Here, in particular, I felt the need of the words to make better sense of the music, for my earlier experience of Lauridsens’s compositions hardly prepared me for these five sharply contrasted, harmonically tortured songs. The skilful handling of their evidently challenging lines spoke again of an impressive level of vocal talent as well as polished ensemble and blending of voices.

The scene brightened with Spring, as Blue Notes opened the second half with Matthew Harris’s setting of It was a Lover and his Lass; clear and bright, breaking its uniformity with a startling modulation in the middle. Another Scandinavian gesture came with Stenhammar’s September, evidently sung in Swedish, here was a song that reminded one of its descent from the more familiar path of classical song from Schubert through Grieg and Wolf…

Benny Sneyd-Utting took to the piano to accompany I Feel so much Spring from a music theatre piece, A New Brain by William Finn. Though in a distinctly Broadway idiom, it was comprehensible in emotional terms, both verbally and musically, and was presented in a comfortable, idiomatic manner. This was the last song in which Blue Notes sang by themselves.

There were two songs by Jeffrey Derus. Afternoon on a Hill was listed as a premiere, but I came across it in a YouTube clip – to a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay whose name was familiar from my student years. A harmonically dense, complex song, it nevertheless communicated a joy in open spaces, offering a fine demonstration of the choir’s versatility, tonal and dynamic flexibility.

The concert was dedicated to the memory of Evelyn Tuuta. She was one of the first people Stamper met in Wellington, and she gave him the words and tune, ‘Hutia te rito’. It was to become the basis for Stamper’s desire to bring the music of America and the Maori people together, with a special commission, a project that he discussed with American composer Zachary Moore.

Inspirare’s website records Stamper’s account of the piece’s origin:
For our Inaugural concert, we wanted to bring together the previous world of the conductor (America) with his new world in New Zealand. What better way to do that, than to have an American composer arrange a Maori tune and text for Inspirare. Zachary J, Moore was commissioned to use this tune, with the permission of Evelyn Tuuta’s iwi and the blessing of the Maori Language Commission of New Zealand. He utilised this tune, wrote a new one as well and then juxtaposed them into a wonderful setting for SATB, piano and percussion. The piece features several soloists, along with the rich harmonies of the ensemble. Hutia te rito has been published and is available for sale.

The welding together of the Maori element and these words helped shape Inspirare’s first concert, in 2016.

The title refers to the growing stem of harakeke (New Zealand flax), and a website gives the translation:

“Pull out the shoot,
Pull out the shoot of the flax bush
Where will the bellbird sing?
Say to me
What is the greatest thing?
What is the greatest thing in this world?
I will say
The people! The people! The people!”

As well as the choir, two solo voices contributed: Megan Corby and Isaac Stone; and Jacob Randall, James Fuller and Nathan Carter performed on drum, maracas and cymbal.

The result, the combination of music that was characteristic of both the Maori and American spirit lent the piece a particularly strong individuality: not setting out to demonstrate compositional sophistication or to formulate a complex philosophical statement, but to express a fundamental human truism, from which an elementary emotional quality emerged.

Derus’s other song, If I could give, was another commission by Inspirare whose website records remarks by the composer:
‘If I Could Give’ offers a simple message: “To live life to fullest, conquer yours dreams, and hold each treasured moment close”. Collaborating with my dear friend and poet, Courtney Prather, we created a work that is infused with adventure and the exploration of dreams. Mark Stamper, artistic director of Inspirare, and I chose to incorporate piano and cello with the remarkable sound of Inspirare to develop a piece that will end the concert. My musical concept was inspired by the idea of taking snapshots of a persons life by giving a distinctive motive for each stanza of text. I am honoured to collaborate with Mark and Courtney on “If I Could Give” and eagerly await its world premiere in November 2017.

The cellist was again Benny Sneyd-Utting, with Fiona McCabe’s piano accompaniment. A reflective tone, unpretentious and involving, gave the song an immediacy, in which a depth of emotion was an artless product of all the varied vocal colours and dynamics that the choir commands.

But it wasn’t the final piece. That was ‘The Promise of Living’ which ends Act I of Copland’s opera The Tender Land.  Though it was slow to make much of an impression after its 1950s premiere, its modest musical strengths have steadily taken root, particularly around the time of the Copland centenary in 2000.

The accompaniment was from the piano duet of Fiona McCabe and Rachel Thomson; Blue Notes choir returned and took their places intermingling with their older colleagues. Male voices here were particularly impressive and the duets, the larger ensembles and even individual voices translated very successfully for a relatively small choir though naturally, it hardly rendered the interaction between individuals who sing in the original score. The traditional end-of-act-one finale built steadily to, perhaps not a Rossini climax but a very satisfying end that is likely to have encouraged audience members to explore the opera.

Apart from the emergence of an enterprising professional choir in the city, Mark Stamper’s efforts also bring to our attention several unfamiliar (to me at least) United States composers, and the existence of a strong choral tradition that is producing a great deal of surprisingly challenging, but also approachable, attractive music in his country.