Tag: choral

Imposing commemoration of 500th anniversary of Lutheran Reformation

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Reformation: A Lutheran vespers service

Cantata Vespers by J S Bach

The Chiesa Ensemble (chamber ensemble of NZSO players)
Vocal soloists: Anna Sedcole – soprano, Rebecca Woodmore – alto, John Beaglehole – tenor, David Morriss – bass
Organ: Rick Erickson; harpsichord: Michael Stewart
The choir of Wellington Cathedral of Saint Paul, directed by Rick Erickson

Violin Concerto in E, BWV 1042 (solo violin: Anna van der Zee)
Cantata: ‘Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott’, BWV 80
Motet: ‘Der Geisthilft unser Schwachheit auf’, BWV 226

Wellington Cathedral of Saint Paul

Sunday 29 October, 5 pm

This was an ecumenical service, celebrating the 500th anniversary of the beginning of the Protestant Reformation, led by Bishop Mark Whitfield of the Lutheran Church of New Zealand, in the Anglican Cathedral, with choral support from the Cathedral choir. Earlier in the year, there was a commemorative service that involved the Roman Catholic Church at the Cathedral of the Sacred Heart, jointly hosted by Cardinal John Dew and Bishop Whitfield.

Ordinarily, such religious events would not attract the attention of the classical music reviewing industry. But all the important branches of the Christian church have paid attention to music and have been extremely important contributors to the composition and performance of music. In fact the music used by the early church survived, in the first few centuries mainly by oral tradition, and after the invention of notation, in manuscript records of plain chant and soon, of polyphony. The increasing sophistication of music through the late Middle Ages and the Renaissance was almost entirely thanks to the church in (almost) all of its persuasions.

So it was probably no accident that Martin Luther who was one of many who sought to reform the character of Christianity, and the most significant one, breaking from the Catholic church, was an excellent musician who knew that his message would be most successfully disseminated with the help of music.  (We were reminded that the Church of England is not, strictly, a Protestant church, since its separation from Rome by King Henry VIII was almost entirely a matter of a break with Papal authority and the appropriation of the assets of religious houses, but not a matter of immediate or important doctrinal change).

And it was especially appropriate to mark this anniversary with the music of J S Bach who, as well as being perhaps the greatest composer in the western musical tradition, was certainly the greatest composer of religious music (ahem, careful! – Victoria, Palestrina?), most of which was for use in the Lutheran church.

So the service began with a ‘Prelude’, comprising the first two movements of Bach’s Violin Concerto in E, with Anna van der Zee as solo violinist. Its performance in the great reverberant space of the cathedral invested it with a particular spiritual dimension, where the virtually vibrato-less playing was given a human touch through its tonal undulations. It was a good idea to have the other two violinists and the violist standing, a gesture that seemed to draw attention to the chamber music-like performance. The second movement offered the opportunity to draw further attention to the beauties of the music and to the subtle effects produced by varying the weight of bowing during sustained notes.

It was followed by Rick Erickson’s performance of the chorale prelude, Ein feste Burg, on the digital organ (given the unavailability of the main cathedral organ): not too conspicuously different in terms of tonal quality, but not so capable of grand, imposing climactic moments; though perhaps less important given the amount of quite elaborate decoration with which it was clothed.

There followed a variety of Lutheran hymns of the 16th and 17th centuries and one based on a 3rd century Greek chant.

The next piece by Bach was his motet Der Geist hilft unser Schwachheit auf, which is the second of the six motets listed in the BWV, Bach catalogue. Much less familiar than Singet dem Herrn; Komm, Jesu, komm or Jesu, meine Freude, the performance was distinctive through the preponderance of high voices that were, naturally enough, especially striking in the acoustic. On the other hand, that meant that words (in the German of course) were not clearly articulated.

A setting of the Magnificat by the 16th century Italian composer Giovanni Giacomo Gastoldi preceded the next Bach work, the complete cantata, ‘Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott’, BWV 80: no doubt the performance that was central to the entire Vespers service. It opened with the choral setting of the first verse, after which the four soloists took turns in the sequence of arias and recitatives. Beginning with the deeply impressive performance of ‘Alles, was von Gott geboren’ from bass David Morriss and soprano Anna Sedcole: his warmly illuminated, hers decorated ethereally, with a lovely cello obbligato.

The choral verse, featuring the familiar choral section, accompanied by trumpets and timpani, had the effect of anchoring the whole performance. Then tenor John Beaglehole’s recitative ‘So stehe dann bei Christi blutgefärbten Fahne’: much high lying, yet confident and accurate, and he was joined by alto Rebecca Woodmore in a lovely aria with the accompaniment of oboe(s), sounding deep and rich enough to be an oboe d’amore; her voice was splendidly firm and well placed.

Finally, the Offering was passed during the orchestra’s playing the last movement of the concerto, always a deeply felt yet high spirited piece.

The occasion no doubt proved an interesting and moving occasion for believers in the congregation, while the range of music, and not merely the Bach, offered a chance for all to gain an understanding of the musical context of the Lutheran Reformation.

Outstanding concert to mark disasters at Aberfan and the Pike River: music by Schubert and Karl Jenkins

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Wellington Youth Orchestra conducted by Simon Brew and Jonathan Griffith

Massed adult choir, children’s choir and screen projections
Solo voices: Jenny Wollerman (soprano) and James Clayton (baritone)
Solo instrumentalists: Ingrid Bauer (harp), Monique Lapins (violin), Buzz Newton (euphonium), Lavinnia Rae (cello)

Schubert: Symphony No 8 in B minor, ‘Unfinished’
Karl Jenkins: the Benedictus from The Armed Man and Cantata Memoria for the children of Aberfan

Michael Fowler Centre

Monday (Labour Day) 23 October. 2 pm

Concerts by the Wellington Youth Orchestra in the past, in my experience, have been poorly promoted and have played to an audience numbering just a few score.

This one was very different. Hand-bills had been thrust into the hand at most concerts in the previous fortnight and there were interviews on radio and in the press drawing attention to the tragedies that the orchestra had decided to commemorate.

The concert came about through the conjunction of separate elements. Last year a concert in New York had performed a cantata by Karl Jenkins commissioned by, among others, a Welsh Television channel, to mark the 50th anniversary of the Aberfan disaster.

The result was Jenkins’s Cantata Memoria: for the children of Aberfan. It was performed by United States conductor Jonathan Griffith, the conductor of Distinguished Concerts International New York. Among the performers there was Wellington resident Wim Oosterhoff who conceived the idea of bringing the work to New Zealand. The project was a formidable one; Oosterhoff persuaded Griffith to come to Wellington to conduct the Wellington Youth Orchestra and a 300-strong choir that included 60 children, arrayed behind the orchestra.

It was to combine the work in memory of Aberfan, Cantata Memoria, with music to mark the Pike River disaster seven years ago: a movement, the Benedictus, from Jenkins’s choral work, The Armed Man, a mass for Peace (which had been written to mark the advent of the new millennium in 2000).

The Unfinished Symphony
The concert began however, with Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, chosen no doubt because of its focus on a work that the composer left incomplete; a composer whose life too was incomplete: it is hard to think of a composer, even among the many who have died young, of such genius that he would probably have produced the greatest music written since Beethoven, having already come close to that point when he died.

The symphony was conducted by the orchestra’s permanent conductor Simon Brew who had also rehearsed the Aberfan oratorio and the piece from The Armed Man.  It was a fine performance of the Schubert, one that could well have come from a totally professional orchestra, such was the remarkable elegance and pathos of the conception. And there was strikingly beautiful playing by violins, then cellos, horns, choruses of majestic trombones and each woodwind section in turn. The contrast in spirit between the sombre opening and the more sanguine Andante con moto second movement, marked a performance of real sophistication.

Benedictus for Pike River
Jonathan Griffith took over after the interval with the Benedictus from The Armed Man, employed sympathetically to commemorate the Pike River disaster. It is dominated by one of Jenkins’s most gorgeous creations, the solo cello episode which was played exquisitely by Lavinnia Rae; lovely children’s voices. The massive attack by brass and percussion towards the end had the required shock impact.

Curiously, unlike a reference in the Aberfan work later, no context was found to refer to the culpability of the Pike River mine owners whose guilt and prosecution seems quietly to have been forgotten.

The Cantata Memoria for Aberfan 
The Cantata Memoria was strikingly accompanied by images projected on a large screen behind the performers, and they were successfully related to the subject of the relevant passages. Rain rippled down a window to the delicate accompaniment of Ingrid Bauer’s harp; there were landscape scenes from the air which seemed to be a mixture of New Zealand and Wales.

The two soloists, James Clayton and Jenny Wollerman delivered important and moving passages; after the baritone’s grief-laden lament, the children’s choir (impressively, they sang their parts without the score) turned to face a photo of Aberfan engulfed by the collapsed mountain of mine tailings.

As choir members chanted the names of the victims of the catastrophe which were also projected on the screen one by one, with a pointed reference to a culpable National Coal Board (what about the private owners of the coal mines?). Later the euphonium, played by Buzz Newton, accompanied Clayton, in a telling sonic association, and the euphonium had several significant later episodes. Elsewhere, Monique Lapins’ violin led the emotional journey, along with the children’s choirs repeating the Agnus Dei, with Wollerman and Clayton repeating some of the most powerful words from the Latin Mass, ‘qui tollis peccata mundi’.

Then the Lacrymosa from the Requiem Mass, was accompanied alternately and impressively by euphonium and James Clayton’s voice, though the impact to my ears was not especially grief-laden.

Jenny Wollerman’s major part in the performance arrived with the bright, consoling words, ‘Did I hear a bird?’, the orchestra accompanying onomatopoeically as swans flew across the screen and that spirit was sustained as the two solo singers shared the singing of a Welsh folk song in a calm, reflective manner.

In a school playground, as children played hot-scotch and other games, harpist Ingrid Bauer accompanied, tapping the wood sounding board of her harp.

The concert attracted a good-sized audience, probably among the biggest I can recall for a WYO concert, and a standing ovation greeted the highly impressive performances by adult and children’s choirs, the Wellington Youth Orchestra, special involvement by singers Jenny Wollerman and James Clayton and by instrumentalists Ingrid Bauer, Monique Lapins, Buzz Newton and Lavinnia Rae; plus the thorough preparation and leadership by Simon Brew and Jonathan Griffith.

 

Spring hailed in impressive exhibition of 20th century French choral songs by Voices New Zealand Chamber Choir

Posted on by Lindis Taylor

Voices New Zealand Chamber Choir conducted by Karen Grylls
Salut Printemps!
Accompanied by Rachel  Fuller with Catrin Johnsson, vocal consultant

French music for Springtime: Debussy, Mark Sirett, Lili Boulanger, Jean Adsil, Poulenc and Donald Patriquin

Cathedral of the Sacred Heart

Saturday 21 October,  7:30 pm

Here was a concert to which many of us attended, blind. The publicity had mentioned Debussy and Poulenc (and these were indeed the only well-known composers) and “romantic chansons and a quirky song-cycle”. It was dedicated totally to songs in French, mostly by French composers.

I guess the programme was assembled through the wonderful resources of Google and Wikipedia by searching ‘vocal music for Springtime’; though perhaps I underestimate Karen Grylls’ encyclopaedic familiarity with the entire choral repertoire through all ages and all countries! .

Instead of printing the words and their English translations in the programme leaflet, the person I took to be the choir’s ‘Vocal Consultant’, Catrin Johnsson, recited translations in an admirably clear and well-articulated voice from the front, before each song. My shorthand was not up to noting the salient points, and so, here and there, I have also had recourse to the Internet.

On the whole, French choral music from the late 19th to mid-20th century is not very familiar, and so, the only music that was at all familiar to me were the pieces by Poulenc. Nor was all the music by French composers: Sirett is Anglo-Canadian and Donald Patriquin, from Quebec. Jean Absil was francophone Belgian.

Debussy’s Salut printemps
It began with the eponymous piece by the 20-year-old Debussy, a setting of a poem by Anatole de Ségour. He may have been a rather obscure poet, but this poem was also set by other composers, suggesting that he was not unknown. Almost everything Debussy wrote in his early years was vocal, songs, and this looks like his first choral work, for female voices with piano accompaniment. It was certainly a charming evocation of Spring – light in spirit, and with a sympathetic piano accompaniment that at times was a little too prominent in the cathedral’s hard acoustic. The unnamed soloist made a particularly lovely contribution.

Mark Sirett turns out to be a Canadian, though not Québéquois, who’s got a high profile as composer and conductor in Canada. He was born in Kingston, Ontario in 1952, educated in Iowa, but returned to work and teach in Alberta and Ontario.

He wrote Ce beau printemps, a bright, optimistic, a cappella piece based on a poem by the great 16th century poet Pierre Ronsard. It was a predictable song for mixed choir celebrating love in the Springtime; somewhat more thoughtful and less full of delight that one might have expected; just rather lovely.

A group of Trois chansons by Debussy followed. The Old French (Dieu! qu’il la fait bon regarder!; Quand j’ay ouy le tabourin; Yver, vous n’estes qu’un villain) gave them away as Renaissance poems, by Charles d’Orléans. Again, an unaccompanied group, and another solo female contribution was very attractive; she sang the words while the choir performed wordlessly. Markedly wintery sounds emerged during the third song denouncing Winter (‘Yver’ – Hiver).

Lil Boulanger used to be referred to as Nadia’s (the remarkable teacher of numerous famous 20th century composers) less-known sister; but it was Lili who was the gifted composer and her fine music has gained a firm foothold in recent years. Her three songs: Hymn au soleil, Sirènes, and Soir sur la plaine, settings of different poets, were most imaginative, and to me, among the most colourful and delightful of the concert. The first and third were for mixed choir while the men retreated for the particularly gorgeous Sirènes. (the poet, Grandmougin). The last, Soir sur la plaine, by the noted symbolist poet Albert Samain (c.f. Verlaine, Mallarmé, Rimbaud), was an impressive, minor theatrical piece, with exchanges between male and female soloists, and the body of the choir, splendidly performed.

Le bestiaire was a group of songs, no doubt those referred to in the promotional stuff, as ‘a quirky song cycle’. It was a minor zoological foray, the little poems by Apollinaire, dating from 1911, set for unaccompanied mixed choir by Belgian composer Jean Absil in 1944. That was a long time after Saint-Saëns’s Carnival of the Animals, which might have remained lurking in the background, perhaps nourished by Erik Satie in the meantime. Would serve as useful revision for your French zoological vocabulary. They were sung in the true spirit of the words as well as Absil’s settings which were both clever and droll.

Two groups of songs by Poulenc came next, not in the least the same spirit as the Absil songs; Nos 2 and 3 of his Quatre petites prières de saint François d’Assise. They took us to the heart of Poulenc’s singular religious awakening in the 1930s, though they were composed in the 1940s. ‘Tout puissant’ and ‘Seigneur, je vous en prie’ were settings for a cappella male voices, and Poulenc’s marked individuality was immediate, melodically confined to a rather limited range of notes.

The same composer’s Les Petites Voix is a set of five songs from 1936 for unaccompanied women’s voices; they sang three: La petite fille sage, Le chien perdu and Le hérisson (hedgehog). The droll verses were theatrically narrated, lines clear, amusing and well balanced, and as with everything in the concert, pitched with a keen ear to the acoustic character of the church (as usual with Karen Grylls).

Finally, Donald Patriquin, a Québéquois, though his biography (McGill and University of Toronto) and list of compositions are evenly balanced bilingually. The choir sang J’entend le moulin, amusing, with dancing, dotted rhythms, prancing up and down, sexual differentiation between men and women singers. Fast, energetic, hypnotic in its incessant rhythms and melodic phrases. It made a fine finish to a highly impressive concert.

 

Orpheus Choir sets Wellington Cathedral alight with vibrancy, in Mozart and Faure

Posted on by Peter Mechen

The Orpheus Choir of Wellington presents:
MOZART – Mass in C Major KV 220 (196b)*
FAURE – Requiem Op.48

Lisa Harper-Brown (soprano)
Alexandra Woodhouse Appleby (alto)*
Giancarlo Lisi (tenor)*
James Clayton (bass)

Richard Apperley (organ)
Orpheus Choir of Wellington
Brent Stewart (Music Director)

Wellington Cathedral of St.Paul
Molesworth St., Wellington

Saturday, 30th September, 2017

Orpheus Choir Music Director Brent Stewart announced at the concert’s beginning that the evening’s performances were dedicated by the choir to the memory of Professor Peter Godfrey, who had died a couple of days previously on September 28th. Regarded by many as the”father” of New Zealand choral music, Godfrey was closely associated with both Wellington Cathedral as Director of Music during the years 1983-89, and with the Orpheus Choir as its Director from 1984 to 1991.

Appropriate though the Faure Requiem turned out to be for such an occasion, the work would have been something of a drawcard for concertgoers in any case, the organisers having enjoyed the great satisfaction of declaring the concert a “sell-out” a day or so before. But of course, this distinction was genuinely deserved, as the Requiem is one of the world’s most beautiful and best-loved choral works. Its companion on this occasion was a Mozart Mass intriguingly titled the “Sparrow Mass” on account of its chirping accompaniments during parts of the Sanctus.

Brent Stewart got a delighted reaction from his listeners when he made the declaration that we in the Cathedral made up “the largest audience EVER to witness a performance of Mozart’s “Sparrow Mass” in public”. Interestingly, the work was one I knew well, as I’d sung in a performance in Palmerston North as a student, many years ago (I found myself humming the bass parts of the “Sanctus” as the music tripped along, and marvelling how I seemed to remember them in particular as the music unfolded). Though I didn’t remember much of the rest of the work in the same hands-on manner, I thought this performance brought out the singers’ engagement with the notes and texts, the opening “Kyrie eleison” most satisfyingly stirring the blood with the choir’s beautifully-graded dynamic levels most richly and directly explored.

I didn’t remember from that previous experience of the work the cantor-like openings of both the “Gloria” and the “Credo”, with bass-baritone James Clayton filling the role in both instances. In the Gloria, it was difficult to clearly hear the soloists, as if the single voices were still battling to be heard amid lingering resonances from the full choir. I sadly fear that those resonances were the building’s own, and they couldn’t help but colour and refract both large and small interactions between voices. Having little idea as to where the soloists would be placed beforehand I chose from the spaces available to sit on the right-hand side of the auditorium, reasonably close to the front – alas, the four soloists stood on the opposite side, with the alto, on the end, seeming very far away! Given that each had material to sing of some significance, one would have thought they would have been given a central, forward position as a counter to the “rapacious maw” of that acoustic!

What I gleaned from the solo voices’ delivery of passages such as the “Laudamus te” from the Gloria, was that their singing was in each case accurate and focused, though varying in impact. Of the tenor and alto, I thought the former, Giancarlo Lisi, had the better chance to be heard due to the tessitura of each singer’s line, the alto’s part seeming to give Alexandra Woodhouse Appleby fewer chances to “sing out”. Both soprano Lisa Harper-Brown and bass-baritone James Clayton had stronger voices applied to brightly-registered solo lines, each able to invest their individual lines with greater clarity.

GIven the “generalising’ effects of such an acoustic, I thought that Brent Stewart and his choir produced amazingly varied dynamics and vocal textures throughout both works. Though Mozart’s work was styled as a “Missa Brevis”, there was nothing limited or small-scale about the music’s emotional range in places. A particularly telling example was during the “Et Incarnatus est” sections of the Credo, where conductor and voices conveyed such mystery and inwardness of mood compared with the outburst of joy that galvanised our sensibilities at “Et Resurrexit”.

Where the soloists were allowed greater space in which to properly “sound” their voices was in the lovely “Benedictus” part of the “Sanctus” – begun by the soprano, the dovetailing of the separate lines was winningly achieved by all, though Lisa Harper-Brown’s voice was particularly radiant. I enjoyed the voices’ rich and secure blending, marvelling as I did so how anybody could (as has been the case regarding this music) consider this to be the work of any composer other than Mozart – it seemed to me to have his unique “voice”, most especially during this beautiful interlude.

The “Agnus Dei” further demonstrated the musicians’ control of atmosphere and mood, the voices stressing the words “peccata mundi”, unequivocally depicting humanity’s self-proclaimed guilt in the throes of sin, and desperate urgency in the act of seeking forgiveness. From these dark moments came radiant hope in the form of a joyously energetic “Dona nobis pacem” – a splendid finish!

Mention must be made at this point of the superb organ-playing of Richard Apperley, here in complete control of an instrument that, despite its diminutive size seemed to pack plenty of punch, especially in its lower regions. (Most people will be aware of the Cathedral’s recent problems with its regular organ due to damage to the pipes caused by the November 2016 earthquake.) I recalled a chamber orchestra accompanying us in that performance I was involved in, all those years hence, though it didn’t seem to my ears as though much was “lost” in having an organ instead, thanks to the nimbleness and strength of the organist’s efforts throughout the first half.

I’d previously heard the Faure Requiem in concert with both organ and orchestra as the respective accompaniments, preferring the orchestra because of the colour and visceral impact given the music both in general and by various particular instruments. Coincidentally enough, I had a “performing” history with this work as well, this time as a timpanist, which of course partly explains my bias towards orchestral accompaniment! Faure himself never sanctioned an organ-only accompaniment, initially scoring the work’s instrumental forces to include harp, timpani, organ and strings, and in later amendations adding firstly horns, trumpets and bassoon, and finally a near-full complement of winds plus trombones!. He reportedly complained of a later performance that the orchestra had been “too small”, clearly wanting those colours and timbres to be heard.

In most instances involving performances of this work the prohibitive cost of hiring orchestral players would prevent choirs from programming the Requiem at all, I expect – but with organists of the calibre of Richard Apperley and Douglas Mews in Wellington, the prohibitive becomes possible with the use of organ accompaniment. As with the Mozart work, Richard Apperley’s organ-playing seemed at first to fully compensate for the orchestra’s absence, though as with other performances I’ve heard, the “Sanctus” didn’t quite come off as it always does with those wonderful, scalp-prickling horn-calls introducing the choir’s cries of “Hosanna in excelsis!”. I’ve always wanted organists to really “pull out the stops” at that point, and have never really been transported with the delight that I’m expecting, when the horns are absent. Faure was also insistent that the violins “sing out” their counterpointed melody to the choir’s opening phrases of “Sanctus” (he significantly amended the “solo violin” of the original version to a group of violins in later versions), though here, as with most of the movement’s detailings I thought the phrasings of the player amply represented the composer’s intentions.

Brent Stewart’s direction of his voices inclined more towards urgency than spaciousness in places throughout the work, creating a parallel undercurrent of tension alongside the “faith in eternal rest” and the “happy deliverance” of Faure’s own expressed intentions. The near-anguished full-throatedness of the singing in places such as “Exaudi orationem meam” kept us mindful of the intensities of human aspiration towards God, giving what I thought was a proper “edge” to the listening experience; and this fully-dynamic response to both text and music throughout made the performance a living, breathing one. This “squaring up to” the work’s occasional sequences of near-dissonant anxiety again enlivened the music at “Christe eleison”, and contrasted well with those moments of relief and relative calm in places such as the movement’s end.

I enjoyed the organ timbres – so ecclesiastically reedy and evocative! – during the introduction to the Offertory, preparing us for a series of invocations (“O Domine, Jesu Christe, Rex Gloriae”) from the choir, each more intense than the last, and superbly built up by conductor and voices! I thought the admirable James Clayton’s baritonal timbres at the “Hostias” somewhat inhibited-sounding at first (the singer was on that “other side” of the platform, which may have accounted for this, though once again I felt the acoustic “lost” some of the voice’s resonance in general), but his soft-singing towards the end was lovely. The re-entry of the choir with a repeat of “O Domine” seemed, along with the soloist’s quiet beseechings, to fully capture a sense of a plea from humanity for mercy.

When discussing the “Sanctus” above I neglected to mention a sudden lighting backdrop change, one suggesting to me some sort of of transcendent movement, a “bringing closer to God” kind of ambient progression towards a purer, more intense state of awareness, one that, if none too subtly applied, at least indicated that the music was taking us somewhere different. This continued throughout the sublime “Pie Jesu” sequence, with Lisa Harper-Brown’s truthful and accurate singing penetrating to the music’s core. I thought at first her voice not entirely “pure”, but became more and more convinced as she progressed, and especially with that “grain of humanity” which coloured her utterances entirely appropriately (more so here, in my view, than the ethereal tones of a boy soprano, which was what Faure originally had in mind, constrained by ecclesiastical edicts forbidding female singers!). Here, I thought hers a lovely, insightful performance.

From blue, the backdrops were suffused with orange, with the beginning of the “Agnus Dei” (somebody may, at some stage, explain to me the rationale, here!) – again, Brett Stewart moved the music with some urgency, voices and organ, after a lyrical opening, darkening the textures with deep, heartfelt tones, giving great and resonating emphasis to the “miserere nobis” (Have mercy on us) sentiments. After this came that remarkable sequence of downward modulations at “Lux aeterna, luceat eis”, music that seemed to come straight out of Wagner’s “Die Walkure” (Wotan’s sleep-inducing kiss on the forehead of his daughter, Brunnhilde), followed by a return to the opening “Requiem”, organ leading into the choir’s entry with strong and assertive declamations, and the choir excitingly raising its collective voice at “Et lux perpetua”, leaving the organ to finish as the movement began.

James Clayton’s singing of the portentous “Libera Me” kept something in reserve for his forceful delivery of “Dum veneris judicare” (When thou shalt come to judge), the choir’s tremulous realisation of “Tremens factus” (I tremble with fear) then leading up to the “Dies illa, dies irae” passages – the only part of Faure’s conception that approaches Verdi’s own “Requiem” in its agitation and vehemence. Here, organ and voices flung their sounds at us splendidly, the tones falling away in terror and uncertainty towards the reprise of the “Libera Me”, firstly by the choir, with an outburst of blazing supplication at “Dum veneris judicare”, then quietly pleading, along with the baritione voice, at the movement’s end.

After these projected tribulations and terrors, the balm of Faure’s overall vision reasserted itself with the concluding “In Paradisum”. Though the organ wasn’t quite as “pipy” as I would have liked, the playing kept the textures elevated, and the sopranos’ voices were simply to die for, here, with their radiant, angelic tones – so too were the richly-wrought harmonies of the remaining voices reinforcing those ethereal beauties at the very end, the choir repeating the word “Requiem” to lump-in-the-throat inducing effect.

Need I add, an appropriately sublime performance!

Much attractive, well performed music from the Bach Choir

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Mozart, Brahms, Bruckner, and Rheinberger

Bach Choir of Wellington, conducted by Maaike Christie-Beekman, with Douglas Mews (organ and piano), Emma Sayers (piano), Nicola Holt (soprano), Jamie Young (tenor), Maaike Christie-Beekman (mezzo)

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday, 17 September 2017, 3.00pm

Surely one of the functions of the NZ Choral Federation Wellington Region should be to have choral directors meet periodically to sort out compatible dates for concerts.  I know this used to happen in Peter Godfrey’s day.  Lately there has been a plethora of choral concerts.  After two last night, it was not surprising that the audience this afternoon was a little lean.  There was a choir performing on 13 August, yet another on 27 August, another on 2 September, another on 6 September, another on 10 September and there is to be another on 30 September, and yet another on 1 October, as well as the three this weekend. These are all different choirs.  That is not counting Hutt Valley or Kapiti choirs.

The programme for today’s concert may not have had wide appeal, but it contained much that was attractive and worth hearing.

The concert began with Douglas Mews playing an organ Chorale Prelude ‘Herzliebster Jesu’ by Brahms (through which the choir stood).  It is a little hard to think of a work based on this chorale without thinking of J.S. Bach’s splendid compositions on the same chorale.   There was nothing wrong with Brahms’s version, but…

The same composer’s Geistliches Lied followed, his earliest accompanied choral work (Douglas Mews accompanied on the organ).  The setting of the words was skilful and the choir sang it well, although the men’s tone was often not well supported, and even became ugly when singing forte.

Anton Bruckner’s beautiful motet Locus Iste from 1869 is a jewel of choral writing.  The quiet singing here was lovely, the harmony well balanced and the total effect very fine.  The composer’s less well-known Christus factus est (from 1994) followed.  It was splendid, with excellent dynamic range and a gorgeous controlled ending.

Josef Rheinberger (1839-1901) is not a familiar name except perhaps to organists.  His motet Abendlied, which he wrote at the age of 15, proved to be quite a demanding work, and suffered some lapses in intonation.  His Angelus Domini was quite an ornate piece, but was performed well.

Mozart’s minor choral works are not often heard, so it was interesting to have his 1777 Alma Dei Creatoris on the programme.  Nicola Holt and Jamie Young were soloists – and Maaike Christie-Beekman, who performed the feat of singing solo lines and then turning to the choir to conduct.  The singing of all the soloists was extremely good in this bright piece.  The choir exhibited impressive, well-balanced tone   Douglas Mews accompanied on piano.

Rheinberger returned after the interval, with two unaccompanied motets.  They revealed the choir’s excellent German pronunciation.  Abendfriede was a beautifully calm piece, and the singers produced an appropriately calm and blended tone.  In the second verse there was some louder singing – here the tone was better than loud singing in the early part of the programme.  Verlust was another attractive piece, sung well.

A return to Brahms: three of his Hungarian Dances for piano duet: nos. 1, 3 and 6 – the last is perhaps the best known, particularly in its orchestrated version.  Emma Sayers and Douglas Mews gave robust and most appealing performances of these, with their own touches, such as rubati, particularly in no.3 (allegretto) and a rousing end to no.6 (vivace).

From ethnic dances (although it has later been found that some were not based on folk themes) to Viennese waltzes: Brahms’s Liebeslieder Walzer, Opp. 52 and 65.  It might have been better to have divided up the 18 songs and sung them interspersed with something else; although attractive, the 18 waltzes in succession were rather too many, and they palled a little.  They were accompanied by piano duet, and one towards the end was a soprano solo while another was a tenor solo.  Nicola Holt particularly has a rich, expressive voice; Jamie Young’s solo was fine.

The choir’s break during the Hungarian Dances seemed to have caused a slight slippage of intonation.  This improved once the singers were warmed up again.  A few songs were for either men’s voices or women’s voices only, and these were very pleasingly performed.

‘On the banks of the Danube’ (translated first line) was a delightful song of varied moods, while the next, ‘O how gently the stream’ was smooth and gentle.  No.11, ‘No, there’s just no getting along with people’ was a lively expostulation, but its follower, exhorting a locksmith, was loud and a bit strident in the male departments.

Women only sang ‘The little bird…’ in a smooth and pleasant manner, while the men  sang similarly in ‘See how clear the waves are’.  The song about the nightingale had a most delightful accompaniment; indeed all the accompaniments throughout the cycle were lively and at the right level for the singers.

‘Love is a dark shaft’ was rather bumpy of rhythm, matching the troubled words, from a man who fell down the shaft.  ‘The bushes are quivering’ was an appealing little song for the choir to end their concert on.  It was beautifully performed.  It was notable how accurate the timing was: the notes being separated by rests, but the choir was spot-on at each entry.

Perhaps the concert was a little like the curate’s egg – but mainly, he would have found the egg satisfactorily cooked.

A well-produced printed programme gave all the words and translations, and included the composers’ dates and those of the compositions.

 

 

 

Outstanding concert for peace, of Renaissance music, plus Arvo Pärt, plus momentous New Zealand work

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

The Tudor Consort, conducted by Michael Stewart, with Fiona McCabe and Catherine Norton (piano duet in Pacifc), Tom Chatterton (organ, The Beatitudes)

‘Dona nobis pacem’
Gesualdo: Da pacem Domine (‘Grant peace, Lord, in our time’)
Palestrina: Agnus Dei (from Missa Papae Marcelli)
Josquin des Prez: Agnus Dei (from Missa L’homme arme super voces musicales)
Byrd: Agnus Dei (from Mass for four voices)
Pärt: The Beatitudes
Da pacem Domine
Gemma Peacocke: Pacific 

Wellington Cathedral of St. Paul

Saturday, 16 September 2017, 7.30pm

A substantial audience heard a most innovative and rewarding concert from the ever-reliable Tudor Consort.  An unusually large dose of contemporary music was adorned with Renaissance music, in a concert marking International Day of Peace (21 September).

It began with a setting by Italian Carlo Gesualdo (1566-1613) of ‘Da pacem Domine’.  As Michael Stewart said in his pre-concert talk, this composer was ahead of his time; his writing for choirs had more in common with those who came a little later.  This was a very appealing composition.  The interweaving parts and delicious clashes were points of interest in the smooth, but not lifeless, singing.  Beautiful cadences were a feature.

The three settings of the Agnus Dei (final words: ‘grant us peace’) were quite contrasted.  That by Palestrina (c.1525-1594) was sung so well it had an other-worldly feel.  One felt transported to 16th century Rome.  The choir used the acoustics of the cathedral splendidly; the parts were distinctive, well-balanced and uniform in tone.

The Josquin (c.1440/1450-1521) offering was of a different character.  It had not the brilliance of the Palestrina, partly because there were no sopranos in this Agnus Dei; men and altos only.  It was a long and complex piece of musical architecture, and more severe in nature than its predecessor.  Blend and balance between parts was superb; every voice was in fine form.  The weaving in and out of the parts was like the stone vaulting in a medieval or Renaissance cathedral or chapel.

Byrd (c.1539-1623) brought another character again, with his much shorter Agnus Dei.  The return of the sopranos brought a brighter sound.  It was interesting to note the different pronunciation (with an ‘s’ sound in ‘pacem’) in this English work.  The effect of the piece was somewhat plaintive, but quite beautiful.

The first half concluded with Arvo Pärt’s The Beatitudes.  Both this and the composer’s ‘Da pacem Domine’ sung after the interval surprised me.  I am not a great fan of his minimalist compositions, such as Fratres.  However, these two choral works were full of variety and interest.  The Estonian composer (born 1935) wrote The Beatitudes in 1990, and the shorter piece in 2004.

The Beatitudes, an English language composition, was performed with the choir split in two.  It was full of contrast, and contrasted with earlier items by being harmonic rather than contrapuntal.  There were lovely harmonic clashes, and very varied treatment of the words, which for the most part could be heard clearly.  The underpinning from the organ was effective.  Towards the end, the singing got louder; there was a little stridency from the basses here – the only flaw I detected in the whole evening’s singing.  At the jubilant ‘Amen’, the organ embarked on a solo, reiterating the harmony of the choir’s utterances; a very satisfying episode.

The ‘Da pacem Domine’ was complex: parts entering and re-entering at different points, the words thus somewhat disconnected, and appearing like little explosions, giving an echo effect, with very varying dynamics.  There was rich harmony, and a smooth, quiet ending.

After this second Pärt offering came the principal work of the concert.  In the pre-concert talk, Michael Stewart had interviewed the composer, Gemma Peacocke, a New Zealander based in the US, where she is undertaking a PhD at Princeton University.  It was interesting to hear about her inspirations, compositions and use of electronics, as in tonight’s work.

The name Pacific connotes both peace and New Zealand’s geographic position.  The three parts of this new commission from Gemma Peacocke used words from New Zealanders who believed in and promoted peace.  The first were from a speech by Te Whiti o Rongomai in 1880.  The music began with the electronic tape playing a gong sounding, followed by other sounds, and the pianists playing.  The choir began by intoning the words of the speech.  The choir part was very strong and telling, though often treated as musical sounds, not delivered always in whole phrases and sentences (having this feature in common with the preceding Pärt piece).

The tapping brass sounds continued, along with other harder-to-identify noises.  It was quite an elaborate construction, but very musical.

The second part quoted from Archibald Baxter’s book We will not Cease (shown as published by Cape Catley in 2014, but I was given a copy in the 1970s; it was first published in London in 1939, then in New Zealand in 1968 and 1980s).  The choir commenced with vocal sounds (not words); the voices were echoed by electronic sounds.  This was not declamatory in the manner of the Te Whiti episode; it was more sombre and mournful, an effect heightened by a fine soprano solo.  There were more vocal effects, which were brilliantly executed; in fact the whole was a tour de force.

The third part was named ‘David’, being based on excerpts from David Lange’s famous speech at the Oxford Union debate in March 1985 on the proposition ‘That all nuclear weapons are morally indefensible’.  These excerpts were played on tape, along with sound effects that fitted with the theme.  The words were not always readily deciphered, either from the speech or the choir, but they were printed in the programme – as were the words, plus translations where necessary, for all the items in the concert.

Much of the choral writing, along with the piano duet, was almost contrapuntal.  After the last part of the speech there were long choral chords.  The piano part was very busy, but as background rather than foreground.

The mood throughout the whole work was similar: solemn, and though promoting peace was much focused on the existence and characteristics of war.  It was very imaginative musically, with plenty of variety.  It made a considerable impression as a well-crafted and substantial composition.  It was not unduly long; the concert was over before 9pm.

The concert was an outstanding performance from all concerned; it was gratifying to learn that it is to be broadcast by RNZ Concert.  Congratulations to Michael Stewart, choir, pianists and organist – and to Gemma Peacocke.

If I have one criticism of the concert, it is that it would have been useful and informative to print in the programme the dates of each composer’s life, and also to give the dates (where known) of the compositions performed.

 

New Zealand Youth Choir delivers excellent concert, though absence of a major work regretted

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Anthems, spirituals and songs
New Zealand Youth Choir, conducted by David Squire and Michael Stewart; soloists and narrators from the choir

Sacred Heart Cathedral

Sunday, 10 September 2017, 4pm

The cover of the programme appeared to be the poster advertising the choir, but I did not see it anywhere earlier as a poster, and a friend in the audience to whom I spoke after the concert had not seen any publicity either.  Both of us found few people we knew in the audience, which also pointed to a lack of publicity.

The Youth Choir comprises 50 voices.  A delightful feature of the concert was that members of the choir read, prior to each song, the text of the poems, or other texts relevant to the message of the song.  This helped the audience to follow the songs,  since neither the words nor any explanatory notes were printed.  There appeared to be a microphone where the speakers stood, but if it was such (and not solely for broadcast purposes), it was not switched on.  However, most of the speakers spoke sufficiently loudly and clearly for the majority of the words to be heard.  Likewise with the singing, the words were projected with clarity, on the whole.

Blend, balance and intonation were virtually impeccable throughout the programme, and attention to dynamics was salutary.

The first item was ‘Flame’ by Englishman Ben Parry, who is director of the National Youth Choirs of Great Britain, and has visited New Zealand.  The choir was spread around the four walls to sing this demanding piece, unaccompanied – as were all except for one item on the programme.  The music included clashing semi-tones, all perfectly in tune.  Gradually the piece built up to a rich, multi-strand tapestry; the fortissimo filled the church with sound.  When it ended, the choristers moved to the front of the church, intoning a chant.

Next was an old favourite of the choir, right from its early days: ‘Kyrie’ and ‘Heilig’ by Mendelssohn.  The rich tone produced by the choir made it sound a more mature choir (in years) than it is.   Incidentally, I found it curious that a timeline of the choir printed in the programme did not mention Guy Jansen (the choir’s founder, and first conductor, who was present) nor Professor Godfrey, who conducted it for a number of years.

Deputy Music Director of the choir, Michael Stewart, conducted ‘Aurora Lucis rutilat’ by Orlande de Lassus (or Orlando di Lassus if you prefer). This was more restrained in tone than the previous pieces.  The various parts were eminently clear and the antiphonal singing was most effective.  It was useful to have the Latin words translated in the spoken introduction.

Chris Artley’s ‘Agnus Dei’ was the 3rd prize winner in the inaugural International

Choral Composition Competition Japan 2015, and it was the choir’s next item.  The composer, English-born but long-time New Zealand resident, set the words from the Mass.  It was striking both melodically and harmonically, and the composer had set the words beautifully.  It was gorgeously sung, following the opening, which was spoken in Emglish.

Bruckner has featured quite frequently in the choir’s repertoire over the years.  ‘Christus factus est’ was preceded by the appropriate reading of two verses in English from the Biblical letter to the Philippians.  Rich harmonies, typical of Bruckner’s choral music were a feature, including sustained chords.  Impressive.

For a change of mood and territory, we heard ‘How to survive Vesuvius’ by Matthew Recio, a young American composer. The brief preparatory reading about the piece was a little too quiet for me to hear.  The piece involved a variety of vocal effects, including many plosives and interesting harmonic shifts.  The piece rendered the atmosphere of a disaster very well.

After the interval, the pieces were all in the English language.  First was ‘Through coiled stillness’ by New Zealand composer Leonie Holmes.  It started with a spoken poem, in Maori and English.  Sounds of the sea were most impressively produced by members of the choir and a woman soloist sang strikingly along with the choir for much of the piece.  Towards the end there were chimes – bells?  Small Asian cymbals?

English composer Gustav Holst’s arrangement of the folk song ‘I love my love’ was prefaced by several members of the choir speaking as inmates of the infamous Bedlam, making a chilling introduction to the song.  Its spirited ending made an upbeat conclusion in contrast to the depressing opening.  Another Englishman followed: Pearsall, whose ‘Great God of Love’ featured his typical harmony, with many gorgeous suspensions.

Thence to the United States, with two spiritual arrangements by William Dawson: ‘Soon ah will be done’ and another old favourite of the choir, ‘There is a balm in Gilead’.  The first was particularly notable for the beautifully controlled dynamics falling from fortissimo to pianissimo.  The introduction to the latter was not the poem of the song, but a contemporary description of the cruel treatment of slaves.  The performance featured three excellent soloists from the choir.

The only work accompanied by piano (Michael Stewart) was ‘Those Others’, by Rosa Elliott from Burnside High School in Christchurch, who was the winner of SOUNZ Composition Competition in 2015.  It was a very fine piece with an enchanting accompaniment, and soloists.

The concert ended with Cole Porter’s ‘Ev’ry time we say goodbye’, a close harmony number, sung with appropriate style and pronunciation.

The concert was not long – about an hour and ten minutes, if the interval is not included.  While the choir sang extremely well, I felt a lack of something substantial; all the pieces were short, with little relationship between them, although they amply showed off the different styles and techniques the choir has mastered.  Perhaps the organisers were aware of the discomfort of sitting for long on the forms that pass for pews at Sacred Heart?

 

 

Madrigals-a-go! defined, declared and delivered by Cantoris with director Thomas Nikora

Posted on by Peter Mechen

Madrigals – \ ˈma-dri-gəlz \ n. Poems set to music, sung a capella for two to eight voices

Cantoris, directed by Thomas Nikora

Music by Mozart, Tallis, Gibbons, Morley, Bruckner, Saint-Saens, Purcell, Rachmaninov, Chris Artley, Manning Sherwin, Billy Joel

St.Andrew’s-on-The-Terrace, Wellington

Wednesday, 6th September, 2017

The programme note was right to describe the evening’s entertainment as “a delightful Spring programme”, even if Wellington hadn’t thus far (and hasn’t since yet) had a weather response worthy of the name! Still, none of this was through want of trying on the part of Cantoris, whose singing at least warmed our insides and gave as good a precursor of the winds of change as any recent general election poll!

First up we were treated to a kind of “surround-sound” presentation of Mozart’s Cantate Domino, a piece of music I’ve not been able to find anything about, and certainly have never heard before – however, Cantoris’ treatment of the piece rendered such detail superfluous in situ, such was the impact of the group’s warm, open-hearted singing.

Beginning with a unison line, the sounds spread around the church’s interior, separating into parts and overlapping like an indoor version of “Forest Murmurs”, reaching a kind of saturation point at which the strands wound into a great unison statement of the opening – I found the effect of it all exhilarating!

Though the beautiful Thomas Tallis anthem/motet “If You Love Me” inevitably brought a reduction of ambient scale to the proceedings, following after such a spectacularly antiphonal opening, it also tightened up the vocal textures of the group to the point where we could register the balances and the different timbres of the voices, the women sounding a tad more secure than did the men, especially at the highest pitches. Towards the end, the overlapping effect of the voices produced a frisson of beauty which memorably coloured the music’s dying resonances of the music.

Orlando Gibbons’ “The Silver Swan” elicited properly silvery tones from the sopranos, with only the highest notes vulnerable to strain, while Thomas Morley’s rather less exposed lines in “Sing We and Chant It” allowed a more relaxed, rhythmically infectious mode, in which the lines found and balanced one another admirably.

Though I was far less familiar with Anton Bruckner’s choral music than with his majestic “symphonic boa constrictors” as Brahms unkindly called his symphonies (which, incidentally, I love!), I was charmed by “Locus Iste” a motet Bruckner wrote for the dedication of a new votive chapel at Linz – the words of the motet go on to translate as “This place was made by God”. Reminiscent of Wagner’s “Tannhauser” in places, the piece built impressively and characteristically, the voices fully relishing the piece’s dynamic range by appropriately “singing out”, while giving passages such as the concluding repetition of “a Deo factus est” a peaceful and serene aspect. I might have even guessed (well, maybe after two or three goes), had I listened “blind”, that the piece had been written by Bruckner.

The second Bruckner item, “Vexilla Regis” (The banners of the king) sounded quite a different kettle of fish – composed “out of a pure impulse of the heart” in 1892, it was the composer’s last completed motet, and demonstrated a markedly transformed style of writing compared to the earlier “Locus Iste”. Characterised by sudden unexpected shifts of harmony, the music recalled passages in the slow movements of Bruckner’s later symphonies (this time, I’m almost certain I would have guessed the composer first up!) How wonderful to hear the choir sing with such a confident sense of line, the voices taking all but the somewhat awkward concluding descent in their stride.

Asked to name composers of madrigals, I wouldn’t have thought to mention Camille Saint-Saens, though Cantoris would have you believe that he wrote at least one, “Calme des Nuits Op.68 No.1”, which we heard this evening (there also exists an Op.68 No.2, “Les fleurs et les arbres”, which one presumes would have been composed along the same lines…..). Anyway, due investigation suggested to me that Saint-Saens probably wrote the texts of both of these choruses himself, and invested them with a depth of feeling that isn’t usually accorded the composer’s music. Here, the “Calm of the Night” unfolded with long-breathed lines, the music freely modulating, the tones then burgeoning impressively for a few imposing measures before falling back again, and taking us to a concluding paragraph featuring some rapt, soulful soprano tones, most sensitively controlled.

Two madrigals of the “English” variety followed, each by Thomas Morley – the first was something of a workout for the soprano voices, having to sustain demanding exposed lines with support lower down from an answering group, a challenge the voices steadfastedly met, despite a “parched” sequence or two along the way. Rather less demanding was Morley’s “Now is the month of maying”, a jolly fa-la-la romp, with director Thomas Nikora on this occasion electing to sing as well as direct from within the ensemble’s ranks, making for plenty of fun and immediacy of dynamic differentiation!

The first of Purcell’s “madrigals” was, it seemed, a vocal arrangement of an instrumentally-accompanied solo, Fairest Isle, from a stage work “King Arthur”. The soprano solo was ripely-toned and gorgeous, with occasional bell-like qualities lightening the vocal ambiences. Then, with the second item “If Love’s a sweet passion” from “The Fairy Queen” the solo voice, joined in a reprise by the ensemble, brought strength and character to the words, qualities which underlined the music’s theatrical origins.

To finish the programme we were given an attractive bracket of performances with madrigal-like qualities across a spectrum of musical styles, beginning with Sergei Rachmaninov’s “Bogoroditse Devo” from his “All-Night Vigil”, a text known to English speakers as the “Hail Mary”, a gorgeous performance, filled with rapt fervour. New Zealand choral composer Chris Artley’s work “O Magnum Mysterium” resonated richly throughout its opening, towards some beautifully emphasised “Alleluias” and some echo effects between the men’s and women’s voices, before the piece finished with enriched clustered harmonies, beautifully shaped and resonated.

I knew “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” but not the concluding Billy Joel song. In Manning Sherwin’s pre World War Two hit, recorded by the “Forces’ Sweetheart, Vera Lynn”, a wordless vocalising sequence introduced a brief solo line before some flavoursome harmonic shifts tested the voices, who emerged with great credit from the sequences, nicely capturing the song’s atmosphere with plenty of nostalgic feeling.And so it was left to Billy Joel, with a song I thought worthy of the Beatles “And so it goes”, featuring a true-toned male solo voice briefly joined by a single woman’s voice, fetchingly harmonised and attractively resonated. It made a relaxed and good-humoured ending to the concert, one which I think the singers and their inspirational and energising conductor, Thomas Nikora, ought to be well pleased with.

Delightful singing by combined Wainuiomata and Capital choirs in Catholic cathedral

Posted on by Rosemary Collier

Capital Choir and the Wainuiomata Choir
Musical Director: Sue Robinson, with Rhys Cocker (bass baritone), Jamie Young (tenor) Belinda Behie (piano accompanist)

Felicia Edgecombe: “World”, from Shaky Places song cycle
Puccini: Messa di Gloria
Morton Lauridsen: Sure on this Shining Night
Fauré: Cantique de Jean Racine

Sacred Heart Cathedral, Wellington

Sunday, 27 May 2017, 3pm

Capital Choir opened the programme with a piece by former long-serving choir director, Felicia Edgecombe, with words by choir member Rachel McAlpine.  I had not heard the performance in 2015 of the full song cycle, but this was a pleasing taste.  Like most of the programme, the piece was sung with appropriate tone and mood, but occasionally, especially early on in each work or movement, intonation slipped.  Not severely, but just under the note.   The choir could be a little tired, having sung the programme the previous evening in Lower Hutt.

Most commendable was the flier for the concert, which in full colour was absolutely beautiful, but inevitably not so attractive in black and white, as used for the programme cover.  It featured stained glass windows depicting angels, one playing a small harp and the other holding a long natural trumpet.  More importantly, the information between the angels was set out clearly, with all the necessary details, including the composers and titles of works to be performed.  Some choirs do not include such information, which I believe to be vital to anyone considering whether or not to attend.

Puccini’s mass was composed for orchestra and four-part choir with tenor, bass and baritone soloists.  Doubling up the deeper-voice solos and using piano instead of orchestra obviously saves money, but the lack of even a small group of instrumentalists takes much from the music and its enjoyment, thoroughly capable though the accompanist was.

The opening Kyrie had charming music, and the combined choirs’ performance was of equal character.  The following Gloria positively bounced along, the opening music more akin to a school song than to a religious work, but its nature changed to sombre for the ‘Et in terra pax’.  Excellent Latin pronunciation was a feature, as was the splendid singing of the basses.  Here and elsewhere in the programme the choir’s pianissimo singing was suitably subtle and worshipful.

Tenor Jamie Young was strong and confident in his arias  After his beautiful first aria, the jolly Gloria theme took over again, to be followed by an almost swinging ‘Qui tollis peccata mundi’, that sounded, especially from the men like a happy operatic chorus.  Repeated notes tended to fall in pitch, but overall the tone, intonation and projection  were very good.

A broad, chorale-like ‘Tu solus sanctus’ was followed by a fugue before the jolly ‘Gloria’ returned again.  The Credo had the choir sounding a little tired, but it was always very precise with the words.  There was very good gradation of dynamics.  ‘Et incarnatus est’, a solo from Jamie Young, was very fine.  ‘Crucifixus est’ was set for bass solo with chorus.  Rhys Cocker has a fine voice, though it is not always projected well, especially when singing with choir accompaniment.  His low notes were quite lovely.

The ‘Et Resurrexit’ and the rest of the Credo were variable – both musically and in performance, but the Sanctus was beautiful, as was the short bass solo Benedictus.  Tenor Jamie Young finished the work with a florid Agnus Dei.

There was a lot of work for the choir in this Mass, which contains some lovely music, but it couldn’t be considered to be in the forefront of great choral compositions.

The Wainuiomata choir sang, following the interval, the most popular piece of American Morten Lauridsen’s considerable choral output: ‘Sure on this shining night’ written in 2005.  It was performed with assurance and sensitivity. Cocker sang very effectively in this.

The programme ended with the combined choirs performing Fauré’s beautiful Cantique de Jean Racine.  Here again, the pianissimo singing was an absolute delight.  It was a perfect end to the concert.

Not so, however, the speaking at both beginning and end of the concert by a male choir member.  The answer to the persistent speaking by performers to the audience, if they will not use a microphone, is to try it out before the concert with someone listening.  Almost always, the voice needs to be raised to enable audience towards the back of a large church or other venue to hear what is being said.

The church was not full, but well over half-full, and the audience was very appreciative.  I find it curious that now all the choirs are dressed entirely in black; it was not always so; I find it dull.

 

 

Inspirare vocal ensemble carves unique niche with music of very contemporary resonance: a full house for peace

Posted on by Jennifer Shennan

Symmetry – Conflict and Resolution

Inspirare choir, with Wellington College Chorale.   Director, Mark Stamper

St. Andrew’s on The Terrace

Sunday 13 August 2017, 6:30 pm

On the programme cover for this unusual concert, there’s an image of a white dove struggling to take off in flight, in search of peace. It’s not soaring yet, still having trouble with its wings, in a telling metaphor for the concert’s theme of conflict & resolution, war & peace.  A commentary, delivered by David Morriss,  links each of the 17 songs to aspects of the endless cycle in history of recurring conflicts leading to inevitable wars. His reference to the insanely dangerous sabre-rattling between leaders of USA and North Korea presented daily to us, sharpened that theme. Would that the politicians in question had been at the concert.

Some of the city’s finest singers are in this choir – smallish in number (27 singers) but strong in voice, all with an obvious commitment to the vision of its director, Mark Stamper. It has been his practice to invite ensembles of young musicians with whom  he also works, to join Inspirare in concert – this time, it was Wellington College Chorale, and there are also guest accompanists, aside from the principal accompanist, Rachel Thomson.

It is a considerable achievement to assemble a range of songs from quite disparate sources and to sequence them so they belong together. Some songs we know well, others not at all – That which remains, by Andrea Ramsay to a text by Helen Keller;  Yo le Canto, by David Brunner, with flamenco-like clapping rhythms delivered with admirable skill by the Wellington College Chorale.

Elgar’s Lux Aeterna was soaring and soft by turns; Soldier Boy, set by John Milne to the poem by Siegfried Sassoon, featured a poignant solo by Richard Taylor. A haunting setting by Mark Hayes of Danny Boy had a soft swell of flute accompaniment by Rebecca Steel; the spirited Invocation and Dance used lively percussion from Jacob Randall and James Fuller.  Homeland, after Holst, arranged by Randall Stroope, featured trumpet evocatively played by Michael Taylor from the choir loft, and carried some stunning vocal cadences, as also did the following For the Fallen by Mike Stammes.

Across the Bridge of Hope, by Jan Sandström, had an exquisite solo sung by Rowena Simpson, highlighting the grief for a 12 year old boy killed in the Armagh bombing. ”Orange and green does not matter now…”   Indeed. Don’t even think about the songs we’ll be singing if nuclear war ever erupts. None I should think.

All Works of Love set a poem by Mother Teresa; a Quaker prayer became The Tree of Peace – with flute and trumpet, brother and sister, whispering and listening.  The final song, We shall Walk through the Valley in Peace, ended a sensitively crafted concert from a choir that produces beautiful sounds within an impressive dynamic range.  It is carving a unique niche for itself in Wellington. The full audience was clearly engaged, and will no doubt be looking to the next concert by Inspirare, on 5 November, The Cycle of Life, with guests BlueNotes from Tawa College.