I'll Take Mine Medium Rare

Mendelssohn: Rarities

The Craighead-Saunders organ of Christ Church, Rochester, NY
David Higgs, William Porter, Hans Davidsson, Jonathan Wessler, Thatcher Lyman, Stephen Kennedy, organ; Christ Church Schola Cantorum, Stephen Kennedy, Director

Loft Recordings, LRCD 1119 (2013)

1. Allegro moderato maestoso [March] in C Major, MWV W44 (David Higgs) 2:55
2. Andante con moto in G Minor, MWV W15 (Thatcher Lyman) 1:30
3. Präludium in C Minor, MWV W28 (Thatcher Lyman) 3:39

Sechs Sprüche (Op. 79) (Schola Cantorum)
--4. Spruch #5, Im Advent, MWV B54 1:42
--5. Spruch #1, Weihnachten, MWV B42 1:41
--6. Spruch #2, Am Neujahrstage, MWV B44 3:04
--7. Spruch #4, In der Passionszeit, MWV B50 1:58
--8. Spruch #6, Am Charfreitage, MWV B52 1:44
--9. Spruch #3, Am Himmelfahrstage, MWV B55 1:44

10. Präludium in D Minor, MWV W2 (Jonathan Wessler) 5:38
11. Allegro in B-flat Major, MWV W47 (Stephen Kennedy) 3:00
12. Andante in F Major, MWV W30 (David Higgs) 3:20
13. Andante [with Variations] in D Major, MWV W32 (David Higgs) 5:41

Aus tiefer Noth schrei ich zu dir (Op. 23. No. 1), MWV B20 (Schola Cantorum, David Baskeyfield, organ)
--14. Choral (“Aus tiefer Noth”) 1:12
--15. Fuga (“Aus tiefer Noth”) 4:54
--16. Aria (“Bei dir gilt nichts den Gnad’ und Gunst”) 4:04 (Scott Perkins, tenor)
--17. Choral (“Und ob es währt bis in die Nacht”) 2:47 (Katherine Evans, alto • Robert Strebendt, tenor • Daniel Pickens-Jones, bass)
--18. Choral (“Ob bei uns ist der Sünden viel”) 1:30

19. Nachspiel in D Major, MWV W12 (Hans Davidsson) 5:36
20. Andante in D Major, MWV W6 (William Porter) 3:47
21. Allegro [Choral and Fugue] in D Minor/Major, MWV W33 (William Porter) 8:41

22. Verleih uns Frieden, MWV A11 (Schola Cantorum) 5:26 Pamela McGary, violin I, Manyui Cheung, violin II, Boel Gidholm & Kyle Miller, viola, Rosemary Elliott, violincello I, Colin Stokes, violincello II, Steven Seigart, organ

***

Not all of these pieces are unknown, but none of them are in regular rotation. Especially with the organ pieces, only the most comprehensive recordings will have all of these, and a couple I've never heard before. This recording has bubbled insistently to the top of my list of favorite acquisitions of the past year. Not for its newness, but for performances that belong on the topmost of top shelves. It's one of those recordings that sticks deep in the musical brain and I find myself thinking about it even when I'm not listening to it. Even six months after I acquired it.

Part of it--much of it--is the organ. The Craighead-Saunders organ in Christ Church of Rochester, NY is part of the Eastman School of Music. Built by GoArt's Munetaka Yokota and named after two of Eastman's most prestigious teachers, David Craighead and Russell Saunders, the instrument is an almost exact copy of a 1776 organ by Adam Gottlob Casparini in Vilnius, Lithuania. The Eastman website hints at a pretty large-scale research process involving some of the greatest organ builders in this country and in Europe over a period of six years that resulted in this organ. It's not a large instrument, 31 stops on two manuals and pedal, but it speaks with tremendous immediacy and intensity, and with its unequal temperament it simply makes delicious sounds. It's one of those very rare instruments where combinations of stops result in something more than the sum of their parts, and the tutti is almost other-worldly.

The organ is really more Bach than Mendelssohn, in that it represents the technology and tonal world of Bach's time. Though the original dates from a couple decades after Bach's death, this instrument is very much along the lines of what Bach would have known. Mendelssohn hails from a century later and the Romantic era of Chopin, but he was one of the first performers to champion Bach in concerts. And among Mendelssohn's varied output he wrote pieces like his Preludes and Fugues (three for Organ, six for Piano) that very much tip their hat to Bach. But I think more interesting than the question of whether the instrument here is appropriate for Mendelssohn (it surely is) is the question of how well it works with this music. And the proof is vibrantly before us here. These are just glorious sounds, period; the fact that they have some authenticity is purely a bonus.

(An aside: I'm reminded, as I've said elsewhere, of E. Power Biggs's recording of the three Hindemith Sonatas in the late '50s on the then-new Flentrop organ at Harvard's Germanic Museum. This was another instrument that very much owed its vision to the instruments of Bach's time, and yet here was Biggs playing a contemporary German-American composer on it to thrilling effect. The lesson there seemed to be that great sounds make for great music, even if the sounds aren't necessarily exactly what the composer had in mind. I've always wondered what César Franck would sound like on that Flentrop--or on this Craighead-Saunders instrument, for that matter. Less-than-authentic, surely, but I'd venture that the result would be quite compelling just the same. Robert Delcamp's 2007 Naxos CD of Widor pieces on the fabulous, tempered Martin Pasi instrument in Omaha gives us a tantalizing glimpse of this mixing of worlds.)

But it's not all the organ. The CD is about half organ and half choral music. And the choir is also a revelation. I can't find much information about the Christ Church Schola Cantorum beyond its being formed in 1997 by director Stephen Kennedy to sing at regular church services. But there is undoubtedly a deep talent pool around one of the country's greatest music schools, and the small choir is miraculous. Their intonation is perfect and they blend like, well, like an organ. I am admittedly extremely fussy about solo voices, and the soloists here seem adequate or better; but the blend of the whole ensemble is among the very best I've heard anywhere. Really first rate.

Two pieces stand out for me. One is the Allegro in d minor (Chorale and Fugue), the second from his unnumbered Three Little Pieces. The review piece from the Gothic website says this is Mendelssohn's longest single movement for organ, and was apparently culled from duty in his Sonatas for that reason. I have several other recordings of the piece, and Director (and here organist) Kennedy just gets more brilliantly inside this intriguing work than anyone else has managed to do. And the d minor key is one to which the organ's unequal temperament is especially congenial. About halfway thru the piece Mendelssohn shifts gears, moving from a Toccata-like opening (via a pedal solo) to a grand chorale statement in D Major on full organ. This leads to a fugal treatment to finish out the piece. That chorale statement is verily the poster child for what an organ is supposed to sound like: grand and glorious and stately and moving--every time I get to this passage I find myself adding a notch or two to the volume knob. As a piece of music it's incredibly satisfying, and as a demonstration of this particular organ it's perfection itself.

The other piece is a little-known cantata for choir and organ and strings called Verleih' uns Frieden. This is another piece that's not entirely unknown, but (as the album title suggests) it's... rare. Unlike Mendelssohn's other cantatas, Verleih' uns Frieden is apparently the composer's own entirely, not having a chorale melody as an underpinning. Lest we think all the good melodies were already taken at this point, Mendelssohn here gives us something that sounds like it wrote itself, a perfect melody like Danny Boy wrapped in a simple setting of absolute perfection. It's so fluid and effortless that it sounds like was formed with the earth and we just discovered it later. I have another recording of the piece, but again this particular combination of organ and choir gives us something greater than the sum of its parts. 

A note about stylistic things. The choir is here accompanied by the organ (organist Steven Seigart) and a sextet of strings--and, apparently, a bassoon, though none is credited. Throughout the whole CD, there is a sense of intimacy and control. No tremolo is used on the organ, and ensemble singing is all done without any vibrato. I have a very strong preference for this treatment, and it contributes to the kind of locked-in sound that temperaments make possible, and which vibrato, especially in ensemble singing, obliterates. But in Verleih' uns Frieden the strings also play without any vibrato. In a piece of Romantic music this is nothing short of a revelation to me! I'm so accustomed to (and continually irked by) contemporary string players' constant waggling vibrato that its absence here is striking. It not only allows players to minutely tune to each other, but it paradoxically makes the ensemble sound tighter and yet make each voice distinctive.

This is a philosophical matter. For the last 100 years, it seems, the use of vibrato is a ubiquitous convention in both singing and string playing; one generally has to get into baroque period performance for strings and even back to Renaissance music with singers (or popular music) to get free of the convention. And I certainly can't make an absolute case for the practice one way or another. I can only say that my ear responds much more readily to vibrato-free tones, and it's a rare circumstance that I feel benefits from more than the sparest use of the device. (I've long thought that my love of harmony, which is primary to my love of music in general, is at the root of this; harmonic precision is impossible without absolutely precise pitch control.) I'm aware that this string treatment will not be to everyone's liking. To those accustomed to contemporary practices, this may sound a bit raw. But I for one will cast my vote for this every time.

Anyway. This is my vote for Album Of The Year. Kudos to all involved for producing something quite special and satisfying.

Two Discs from Minnesota

Slavic Holiday: Legends from Ancient Czechoslovakia and Poland

Fire of the Soul: Choral Virtuosity in 17th-Century Russia & Poland

Both releases are on Rose Records, and are available on iTunes or from the Rose Ensemble's website or from Amazon.com.

***

I've enthused a good deal in these pages about London and its miraculous concentration of choral talent. There must be some critical mass beyond which a thing becomes self-sustaining, with the numbers of ensembles and the audience for them and the schools producing the new talent and the recording companies interested in them all following in symbiotic lockstep. Whatever the reason, there is an amazing concentration of talent in this one place.

But as I was reminded with the Kansas City Chorale / Phoenix Bach Choir recordings on Chandos, proximity can account for only so much. Musical talent is a distinctly human quality, not a geographic one, and there are talented people everywhere (something about which I'm reminded with organists; there are great organists everywhere of whom no one ever heard).

The Rose Ensemble hails from my home town of St. Paul, Minnesota, and specializes in early music from diverse sources. I lived in Minneapolis / St. Paul for 20 years, but I moved from the place about the same time as Artistic Director Jordan Sramek formed the group in 1996. Many of the group are instrumentalists as well as singers, and most seem to have some Minnesota connection, either family or education.

It strikes me that one of the advantages of hailing from a place without deep roots in original music is that one is free to delve into a wider range of styles without confounding anyone's expectations. These two discs feature Slavic composers, spanning from the 11th Century up to a present-day composition commissioned by the Rose Ensemble. The first of these discs, Slavic Holiday, concentrates on very early works from Poland and Czechoslovakia, and the earliest pieces especially are monodic, or feature very essential harmonies. Composition dates range from the 11th to the 17th Centuries. The other disc, Fire of the Soul, concentrates (apart from the contemporary Khvoshchinskiy piece) on the work of three composers: Poles Mikolaj Zielenski (ca.1550- post 1616) and Andrzej Rohaczewski (c. 1600s), and the Russian Vasily Titov (c.1650-ca.1715). Though not quite wearing the misty aura of despair which characterizes so much Russian music, the Titov does have a certain minor mode gravity about it; but the Polish pieces sound more Italian than Russian. I read a review snippet that compared some of this writing to Claudio Monteverdi, and that seems a good stab. I often play a little game with the radio of trying to figure out what I'm listening to before the announcer gives it away, and I would not have guessed Poland with these pieces. The disc finishes with the commissioned work--Rejoice, O Virgin Mary--by Russian Sergey Khvoshchinskiy (b. 1957). This piece is more layered and modern, though you could mistake it for something older if you weren't paying attention. It reminds me a bit of his countryman Gretchaninov, and it sounds identifiably Russian.

Overall, these are much more solid performances than I would have expected--world-class, actually. Pitch is generally excellent, and the male voices especially achieve a wonderful unity. There are one or two moments where the choir's pitch is not absolutely in lock step, but I'm admittedly being awfully fussy to even mention it. These two discs make us a splendid introduction to unknown repertoire (to me, anyway), and I see that the group has quite a number of recordings available. I shall sample some of the others soon.

Parsonic Boom

Music of Robert Parsons
Voces Cantabile / Barnaby Smith
Naxos Records, 8.570451

• First Great Service
• Responds for the Dead (Latin Service)

***

After my recent acquisition of the Gabrieli Consort's Road to Paradise, I searched through my music collection for other works by the little-known Robert Parsons. His five-voice Ave Maria culminates with an 80 second Amen that is the most glorious bit of music from the Renaissance I've ever heard. At least as it's presented to us by McCreesh & Company. And it turns out to be the only piece by Parsons in my whole collection.

So I searched online a bit for more of Robert Parsons, about whom quite little is known. The following is the entirety of Wikipedia's entry on him:

Robert Parsons (c. 1535 - January 1572) was an English composer.

Although little is known about the life of Robert Parsons, it is likely that in his youth he was a choir boy, as until 1561 he was an assistant to Richard Bower, Master of the Children Choristers of the Chapel Royal.

Parsons was appointed Gentleman of the Chapel Royal on 17 October 1563. His work consisted of a number of sacred and secular vocal compositions, including his Ave Maria, as well as some instrumental pieces. He is believed to have died in January 1572 when he fell into the then swollen River Trent and was drowned. He may have been a teacher of, or at least an influence on, William Byrd at Lincoln Cathedral. Byrd succeeded him as Gentleman of the Chapel Royal.

My favorite recording label, Naxos, has the only all-Parsons release I was able to find, a 2007 issue featuring the choir Voces Cantabile, under the baton of Barnaby Smith. Formed in 2003 of ex-choristers from Westminster Abbey, here is yet another young London-based choir taking advantage of the country's wonderfully rich choral heritage.

While I'm thrilled to find more of this composer, these performances don't quite reach the top-shelf level of the Gabrieli Consort (as is perhaps to be expected from such a young ensemble). The choir doesn't blend to the same ethereal degree, and they don't achieve the confident pitch solidity, especially in what seem like a couple less-than-ideal edits where the choir's pitch changes suddenly and noticeably. Pitch is a particularly sticky point for me, and not everyone may object to the same degree.

But for that, though, it's a fine, respectable effort, and it fills a void in the recorded repertoire of another of England's shining Tudor lights.

The Plunge to The Depths

The Road to Paradise
Gabrieli Consort / Paul McCreesh
Deutsche Grammophon, CD 477 6605
Music of Britten · Byrd · William H. Harris · Holst · Howells · Robert Parsons · Richard Rodney Bennett · Sheppard · Tallis · John Tavener

***

I bought this back-to-back with the previously-reviewed Sixteen / Harry Christophers album, and as I listen from one to the other they almost seem at first like companion discs. Rather than concentrating specifically on virginal material, though, the unifying theme for the Gabrieli Consort CD is the trek made by medieval pilgrims to Santiago de Compostela (a subject also addressed in Joby Talbot's 2005 composition Path of Miracles). Conductor McCreesh has chosen pieces--again spanning several centuries--that express musically what religious pilgrims might have experienced during the perilous journey. Sonically, the two albums occupy some common real estate; both are fairly serious and somber and contemplative unaccompanied choral music (there is just a bit of organ on the Gabrieli Consort disc).

But that first impression of similarity does not hold up. There is a noticeable change of sonic setting moving from one disc to the other; that's one part of it. Paul McCreesh has chosen a much larger, more luxurious acoustic than that in which The Sixteen were recorded. But that acoustic plays a supporting role in what, after a couple listenings, comes across as a much more ambitious project. While we do have works of serenity and surpassing beauty such as Robert Parson's Ave Maria and Thomas Tallis's Miserere nostri, we encounter more depth and drama as we progress, in Benjamin Britten's treatment of the traditional A Hymn to The Virgin and John Tavener's Song for Athene and Gustav Holst's Nunc dimittis and others. It's all fairly buttoned-down, but the dynamics presented in this setting introduce us to deep waters.

The Gabrieli Consort was formed by Paul McCreesh in 1982 and, like The Sixteen, concentrate on mostly Baroque and Renaissance repertoire (though they are now venturing forward into the Classical). They were one of the first groups I encountered to concentrate on authentic period performance, and the value of the exercise is nowhere more evident than here. Intonation and blend are superb; no other word does the trick. Using between 8 and 32 singers on these various pieces, I cannot imagine getting more deeply into this music than these women and men have done here.

The Sixteen disc is excellent; but this offering from Paul McCreesh and the Gabrieli Consort is profound.

Highest recommendation.

Ghost Stories

A Mother's Love: Music for Mary
The Sixteen / Harry Christophers
Universal Classics & Jazz, UCJ 476 6295

• Grieg: Ave Maris Stella
• Cornysh: Ave Maria Mater Dei
• Josquin: Gaude Virgo Mater Christi
• Bruckner: Tota Pulchra Es, Maria (Antiphon)
• Saint-Saens: Ave Maria
• Britten: A Hymn To The Virgin
• Mendelssohn: Ave Maria
• Obrecht: Salve Regina
• Rizza: Ave Generosa (World Premiere recording)
• Anon: (Mediaeval) Alma Redemptoris Mater
• Faure: Ave Maria
• Palestrina: Sicut Lilium Inter Spinas
• Liszt: Ave Maris Stella
• Elgar: Ave Maria
• Durufle: Tota Pulchra Es, Maria
• Plainsong: Salve Regina
• Lassus: Salve Regina

***

Here is yet another of London's fabulous vocal ensembles, The Sixteen. Formed by conductor Harry Christophers in 1977, it draws for its members from the choirs of Oxford and Cambridge. They have concentrated over the years on English polyphony, but have also dabbled in a much wider range of music, from the Italian Renaissance up into the 21st Century.

This present release gathers together the musical thoughts of a range of composers about the maypole of the West's favorite matronly construct of mythology, the Virgin Mary. The emotional hand-wringing of the world's religions have incontrovertibly provided fodder--or at least a focusing mechanism--for musical art; truth be told, I was actually eager to see what variations on the theme of saintly motherhood were managed by some of these represented composers, as I had already in my collection a number of lovely pieces of the same cast. Brahms, Morten Lauridsen, Mendelssohn, Langlais and, especially, Gabriel Fauré were already onboard with some fabulous entries; and here was an opportunity to hear from Brucker, William Cornyshe, Britten, Saint-Saens and Liszt, among others.

The pieces, as one might expect, all have a certain relaxed quality, being all serenely tonal and not too militantly polyphonic. The earliest composers--William Cornyshe or Jacob Obrecht--sound antique to our ears, jagged and meandering. By the time we get to Fauré, Mendelssohn and Bruckner we find ourselves squarely in mainstream 19th Century Classical mode, and Margaret Rizza brings us right up to present day with the premier recording of her Ave Generosa, which sounds at times a bit like the tintinnabulum sounds of Estonian Arvo Part. The CD's organizing theme is not so structured as to guarantee absolute unity of style, but the album holds together as a concept reasonably well.

I have a number of recordings of The Sixteen, and their performances are always stylistically coherent and unimpeachably competent technically. In contrast to some other chamber choirs who specialize on this Renaissance and post-Renaissance material, The Sixteen sound to employ different singing styles depending on the exact period of the material. Early material will typically be sung without much vibrato (excepting the solo voices), whereas Romantic period pieces are often sung with a fuller texture. I cannot fault them for this approach--indeed, far be it from me to second-guess a scholar like Harry Christophers--but my own ear always recoils from the use of vibrato with singing except in very rare and special circumstances. Particularly with solo voices or the high soprano lines, the vibrato here can take on an almost operatic quality that, for me, throws a damp rag on things right quick. So my reservations here carry the caveat of my pointed personal preference; anyone not objecting to this use of vibrato in a choral setting will likely thrill at these performances.

The recording is fairly close and in a medium-dry acoustic.

That Gretchaninov Disc Wasn't a Fluke

Rheinberger: Sacred Choral Works
Kansas City Chorale / Phoenix Bach Choir; Charles Bruffy
Chandos Records, CHSA 5055
Four Motets Op. 133; Mass Op. 109; Three Sacred Songs Op. 69; Easter Hymn Op. 134

***

(I didn't really think it was, but here's the proof just the same.)

As a lover of organ music I'm a bit surprised that I've failed to latch onto the works of German (or Liechtensteinian) Josef Rheinberger (1839-1901). Falling between Felix Mendelssohn and Max Reger (he was a contemporary of Brahms)--all of whom I enjoy--one would think I'd eat up his output of some 20 Sonatas. But Rheinberger and me are apparently like Mozart and me: people far smarter and more informed than I have given their stamp of approval, but his music just begets no response whatsoever in me. In both these cases, I reserve the right for the long-planted seeds to suddenly bear fruit, but every time I check back there's just dirt (in the case of Mozart, the seeds have had 30 years to germinate and I'm pretty sure they're dead and they'll stay that way).

Well, that's organ music. But after my thrilling discovery of the Kansas City Chorale and Phoenix Bach Choir singing Gretchaninov, I was eager to give this group's next release a quick audition. And Rheinberger it is. Well--a big relief to his corpse, I'm sure--I like his choral music rather more than his organ music. Indeed, I would have pegged it as either Brahms or Mendelssohn if I hadn't read the label; it has Mendelssohn's lyricism. Gently contrapuntal and resolutely tonal and conservative as church music apparently should be, this is music that will surprise no one. But it's well-crafted and quietly engaging and makes for a disc I'm happy to add to my collection.

The ensemble and conductor Bruffy bring the same wondrous sensibilities and careful precision to this disc as to their previous. His tempi and phrasing and the balance of the ensemble are simply beyond reproach; inspired, even. I was tempted to conclude that Rheinberger's writing is not quite as engaging as Gretchaninov's to my ear, but it's growing on me after several hearings. Still, the Russian works seem more ambitious or momentous somehow -- transcendent, almost otherworldly, familiar yet different. Maybe it's just that Gretchaninov hails from a more isolated corner of human culture. There is something predictable about much of the Rheinberger (not to say mundane); it sounds a bit like a solidly competent composer using the standard tools available to him.

But for all that, this is still a virtuosic display of choral singing with moments of real depth and inspiration. Much of it is soaringly beautiful, and here's to hoping it continues to grow on me as it has. But for now it still gives me a warm glow of satisfaction rather than leaving my mouth open in astonishment. Call it fully five stars for execution and four for material. Well, that's still a pretty great accomplishment at that.

And who knows? Maybe this will be the eye-opener for Rheinberger's organ works for me.

Take That, London!

Gretchaninov: Passion Week
Kansas City Chorale and Phoenix Bach Choir; Charles Bruffy
Caroline Markham, mezzo-soprano; Paul Davidson, tenor; Bryan Taylor, baritone
Chandos Records, CHSA 5044

***

I feel like some crow-eating is in order. Well, almost.

I've spent some ink extolling the virtues of London as a vocal music mecca (indeed, as a classical music mecca in general), what with recent discs of Stile Antico, Tenebrae and Polyphony--plus a recent Tallis Scholars release of Robert Byrd on the way.

But the world of music is always full of surprises, and here is an unexpectedly fabulous release from the combined ensembles of the Phoenix Bach Choir and the Kansas City Chorale doing the lush, lugubrious works of the Russian Alexander Gretchaninov (1864-1956). Apparently I'm still spending some time with my head under a rock somewhere, as this album was nominated for four Grammys including Best Classical Album and Best Choral Performance, and it won the Grammy for Best Engineered Classical Album.

Much in the mode of Rachmaninov, Gretchaninov's choral works are simple, direct and hauntingly beautiful. His harmonic palette is 19th Century, and his innovation is in expression rather than mechanism. Gretchaninov's Vespers resemble Rachmaninov's in exactly the same way as Duruflé's Requiem resembles Fauré's: they have structure and fundamental sensibility in common, but with a brief exposure you'll have no trouble determining which is which. My wife finds it all impossibly heavy, but it's achingly powerful to me. I think there's a strange phenomenon at work; if there were such thing as a soul, I would say this music is designed to crush the soul flat before giving it a miraculous healing. That's how this music sounds to me, almost like (to quote Shakespeare In Love) a sickness and its cure, together. I feel compelled to champion Gretchaninov, like a bout of Stockholm Syndrome. But really, if you like Rachmaninov's Vespers, you'll love this music. And this release is the unexpected equal in style and conviction of the fabulous 1999 Holst Singers release of some of the same repertoire on Hyperion.

I just never thought I'd be saying that about a choral group from Kansas City and Phoenix.

I suppose, to be fair, the London musical elite needn't put their flats up for rent and buy plane tickets for Missouri just yet. But it's an excellent reminder that there are sophisticated musical minds and really talented people all over the place. A quick perusal of the KCC's and PBCs websites show a group of mostly young, highly educated professionals (much like the members of London's Stile Antico, come to think of it). Well, it seems that they have several other recordings out as well, which I'm now eager to explore.

Enthusiastically recommended.

More Russian Winter

The Rachmaninov Vespers and All-Night Vigil, Op. 37
Tenebrae
Signum Classics, SIG CD045


***

I love the idea of a music blog as an avenue for discussions with other people about music. Because the web is so large, a substantial market can congeal for almost any niche thing, including perhaps not-quite-mainstream classical music. One of the great fringe benefits of this site for me has been some wonderful input from new friends who have found their way here. A month or so ago I was introduced to the baroque lutenist and composer Sylvius Leopold Weiss, and now I've been pointed toward a great English choral group of whom I'd not previously heard, Tenebrae.

Formed in 2001 by former King's Singer member Nigel Short, Tenebrae seeks to bring an intimate Renaissance sensibility to choral performance, even of more modern works. They are known for performing by candlelight, and they specialize in optimizing their performances for the acoustics in which they sing. As we've noted before, England generally, and London specifically, is practically overrun by top-shelf vocal groups, all fed and nourished by a collection of fantastic school and church choirs, making for a culture which seems to have reached a critical, self-sustaining mass. True to form, Tenebrae's members have come from some very impressive places: the Monteverdi Choir, the choirs of Westminster Abbey and Cathedral and King’s College, Cambridge, I Fagiolini, The Tallis Scholars, The Swingle Singers, The King’s Singers, Covent Garden and English National Opera.

I picked their recording of Rachmaninov's Vespers, both because I'm in a Rachmaninov mood lately and because I recently reviewed The Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir's version of the same piece, so a contrast seemed inevitable. (The EPCC in that recording was led by yet another Londoner, the brilliant Paul Hillier.) And boy, it's a tough task to choose among them. Interpretively, the two choirs are coming from a similar sensibility, so that no identifiable slant of vision distinguishes one performance from the other. Tempos are similarly middling, and both choirs are fairly relaxed in their projection, not resorting to extreme dynamics to make their case; fortissimos are reserved for key moments. The Tenebrae recording is in a smaller acoustic, and there is a bit more closeness and intimacy here; I think the reverberation on Hillier's recording serves the piece very well, giving blend and mystery, though this is purely a personal preference (and not a consistent one: I generally like to hear as much detail as possible). I also find just a wee bit more polish in the Estonian solo voices, plus I fancy there is some indefinable Slavic resonance. But the Tenebrae recording is really excellent, and I'm eager to explore their catalog further.

Each new reading of a piece illuminates something not emphasized by others, giving us a fuller and deeper understanding of the score, and the Tenebrae recording is careful and thoughtful and a happy addition to my collection.

Sonic Sunshine

Cloudburst: Choral Music of Eric Whitacre
Polyphony / Stephen Layton
Hyperion Records, CDA67543

***

The English conductor Stephen Layton heads two different choral groups, Polyphony and the Holst Singers, which are among my favorite musical entities. A conspicuous number of these two groups' recordings have ended up on my pile of favorites. I'm wildly fond of Polyphony's collection of Grainger and the Holst Singers' Vaughan Williams compilation, both from a few years ago, and they have a couple really excellent collections of Russian composers as well. Through them I learned of Morten Lauridsen and James MacMillan.

And now they've introduced me to Eric Whitacre. Whitacre (b. 1970) has a Master's degree from Julliard, and specializes in choral writing. This disc gives us a representative sample of his output, with Polyphony's typical flawless execution. Whitacre's harmonies are dense and luxurious, and Layton clearly has a feel for how Whitacre writes. There's something so simple and confident and direct in the settings that I find myself kind of permanantly choked up while I listen.

I recommend, with the added glow of their being a new discovery for me.
____________

A review of groups on YouTube performing Whitacre's "Sleep" (my favorite so far on this album) shows that what Polyphony have pulled off is very impressive indeed. I did not find any Polyphony on YouTube, but this recording gives a good sample of Whitacre's writing (and, for all that, this Indiana choir--either high school or college--does a great job; but Hyperion and Polyphony certainly do them one better). Polyphony can be sampled on iTunes.

A North American Collaboration

Choral Works of Morten Lauridsen
Elora Festival Singers, Noel Edison
Naxos, 8.559304

***

Here's another delightful recording from our friends at Naxos.

I discovered Morten Lauridsen via a recording by Stephen Layton and Polyphony from 2004 on Hyperion (CDA67449). I was immediately nearly heartbroken by the simple beauty of his Ave Maria; so quietly powerful was this music that I found myself seeking the disc out for mood control. I've been on a mission since then to acquire more of his oeuvre. The 64-year-old Lauridsen is professor of composition at USC, and has written several secular and sacred settings for mixed choir. Polyphony followed that initial release with a second in 2006, also on Hyperion (CDA67580), the two discs covering most of his output.

Lauridsen's writing, especially in the classic sacred settings, is wonderfully simple and direct, employing quite spare and deliberate part-writing and a limited but very engaging harmonic palette. Having made this much acquaintance, I feel I could identify him readily by this harmonic language, which is firmly tonal but gently modern.

Now comes a recent release on Naxos of an excellent cross section of Lauridsen's work, sung by a Canadian group, the Elora Festival Singers. I was thrilled by their recording a few years back of Vaughan Williams's Requiem (Naxos 8.554826), and they have released discs of Arvo Part's Berliner Messe and music of Healy Willan, among others.

But this recording of Lauridsen will stand on its own. The choir has a very warm and blended sound, and Noel Edison gives us very feeling interpretations of these works. I'm especially taken with Les Chansons des Roses, a four-movement work that concludes with an achingly beautiful, piano-supported monody that reminds me of Duruflé and his penchant for plainsong.

Having been introduced to all these works by other groups, I can say that this Naxos release equals or betters any other versions I've heard. Add in Naxos's bargain price, and you have a really attractive package.

Highly recommended.

Spring Grass Under the Snow

Rachmaninov: Vespers (All-Night Vigil)
Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir
Paul Hillier
Harmonia Mundi HMU807384
2005

***


Rachmaninov wrote his Vespers and All-Night Vigil in 1915. Scored for a cappella choir, it is a lodestone of lush, aching Russian music, musically accessible but harmonically rich and mystically profound. I have a very interesting recording of these settings from some years ago by the English all-male Choir of King's College, Cambridge under Stephen Cleobury, which is one of those old-recipe-made-with-new-ingredients kinda things. Very nice, but different. This present Harmonia Mundi recording sticks with the regular formula, using a mature mixed choir in an appropriately reverberant acoustic.

It's a cliché, I know, but either from weather or vastness or oppressive government or whatever, there is a sense in much Russian music of artistic expression coming from a place of great pain and difficulty, a pall that's almost despair but not quite. Rachmaninov is firmly, undeniably Russian in his bone marrow. He is sometimes criticized for being too musically conservative for his time, or too easily sentimental; I don't know that I buy those criticisms, but in any case there's almost no artifice to this setting. It would be hard to write simpler, more direct music for these resources than this. I too easily picture the remote, snow-swept steppes of Siberia when I listen to Rachmaninov (or maybe Stalingrad during the siege), and this choral setting gives us that ache in its most unadorned form. This is all the ache with the orchestration and almost all structure removed, like a Bodyworks exhibit where the flesh is jesused away and only the nerves remain.

(Rachmaninov requested that the Vespers' fifth movement be played at his funeral. It's not hard to see why. Like his piano Prelude in b minor Op. 32, No 10, this movement seems to tell us in mystical terms about the end of something in a way which brooks no rebuttal.)

Like other Russian choral music, this extended setting places great demands on the choir's bass section, and a choir's low-frequency performance has quite a bearing on how the piece comes off. The Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir from this recording, while not Russian, is close enough to pass as the real thing. I have a recording of the Vespers by the St. Petersburg Chamber Choir which makes quick work of these low tones; it sounds like either an anomaly in the vocal cords or a third testicle were required to get into the bass section of that choir. But barring these super-human feats, the EPCC pulls this score off as well as any non-Russian choir I've heard.

The recording is excellent. If you're not familiar with this piece, I urge you to make acquaintance. I know of no recording I would recommend as highly as this one.