Holy Week and Easter 2009

This year has been very unusual in that I won’t be performing at all in the period from Palm Sunday to Low Sunday. I was invited to sing in two performances of Mozart’s Requiem: but I couldn’t make rehearsals for one, and the other was in Oxford which I’d just visited. There wasn’t an expanded Bath Camerata for their concert on Good Friday, as in some previous years (actually this has only happened once in the last few years, for the 20th anniversary of the choir in 2006, so the tradition is lapsing).

Normally I’d be singing at a Cathedral or similar for the Low Sunday weekend. This year I had invitations to Winchester Cathedral, Salisbury Cathedral and Tewkesbury Abbey for this weekend, but declined them all in favour of rehearsals for the next Chorus Angelorum concert: Spem in Alium and other Tudor pieces in Bath Abbey on April 23rd.

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an exhibition at the Bodleian

I went today to an interesting little exhibition at the Bodleian Library in Oxford. On display are scores of choral music from mediæval times to the present day, from the Bod’s own collections or on loan. They include the Eton Choirbook, autograph scores of the War Requiem, A Child of our Time and works by Blow and Purcell, and a surviving ms. copy of Spem in Alium. A Tudor organ book containing reductions of anthems which are otherwise lost must have provided hours of work for musicologists in reconstructing these pieces. There are also many other mss., printed scores of interest and a few recordings to listen to.

http://www.ouls.ox.ac.uk/news/2008_dec_01

I learnt more than I expected from going round this exhibition, as well as being reminded of pieces I’d performed or heard (the pages at which volumes are open have been carefully chosen). You are frequently reminded by conductors that early part-books did not have bar-lines, but only when I was confronted with one did the implications of this sink in. How did they manage to rehearse – did they have to sing the entire piece straight through over and over until they got it right, or was there some way to just go over one tricky passage in the middle? I did not know that choral societies used male altos, with women on the top line only, until well into the 19th century. There were several printed scores using sol-fa according to various systems. The sol-fa in printed scores of Britten was the tail end of this way of presenting music, and shows why it was inadequate. And, astonishingly, none of Oxford’s three choral foundations made a recording before the 1960’s. Was this thought a rather vulgar thing to do?

The exhibition runs till 25 April 2009.

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the Festival becomes a Fest

I’ve been booking tickets for the Bath International Music Festival. I think that’s what it’s still called in full, but the brochure for it now has ‘Bath International MusicFest’ on the cover, followed by a funny little splodge of a logo. So some rebranding has been going on, perhaps to match the Bath Literature Festival which is now the ‘LitFest’. Somehow I can’t see the term MusicFest catching on, but let’s wait and see.

Last year the Festival had quite a lively Facebook group associated with it, and I hope that this year they’ll enter individual concerts as events so that you can (if you like) let it be known which ones you’re going to.

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the work I’ve waited ten years to hear

A few years ago I took a ‘Which major work of Alban Berg are you?’ test*, and came out as the Chamber Concerto. I’m not sure this was very flattering, as the Chamber Concerto has the reputation of being the driest and most impenetrable of Berg’s major works, and is the least often performed and broadcast. I realised about ten years ago that it was the only work by Berg that I didn’t know at all, and resolved not to listen to it until I could get to a live performance. I finally managed to hear one at the RFH last Sunday night, performed by Mitsuko Uchida, Christian Tetzlaff and wind players from the Philharmonia Orchestra conducted by Esa-Pekka Salonen.

I hadn’t really known even what was meant by ‘Chamber Concerto’. It turned out to be an instance of a form that has never quite gone away, the double concerto, in this case for piano and violin. The accompanying orchestra consists of thirteen wind soloists – no opportunity for lush Viennese strings here. (The first flute becomes the leader of the orchestra, at least for the purposes of hand-shaking.) This performance belied the piece’s reputation because it was full of passion and drama, though it was still not easy to grasp on a first hearing. The sound-world seemed to me to have more in common with the works which follow it than those which precede, and in particular it was hard not to hear anticipations of the violin concerto in the central movement.

The concert opened with Mitsuko Uchida playing Berg’s Op. 1 piano sonata. I have a recording of her playing this, but this live performance was rather less restrained, though with a great transparency in the more thinly-textured passages.

These days programme notes about Berg’s music have a lot to say about the numeric and other codes in it (plenty of these in the Chamber Concerto!), perhaps to appeal to readers of the Da Vinci Code generation. This is the aspect of his music that interests me least, because usually it is undetectable in performance. In this particular piece the melody which encodes Schoenberg’s name anticipates Shostakovich’s use of the same device.

The second part was Mahler’s Ninth. Recordings can’t do justice to the huge climaxes and contrasts in the first movement in particular. After the first half, I suddenly had to adjust to listening to a far larger ensemble, and the effect of hearing the symphony after two works by Berg was to emphasise the differences between the two composers. Normally in performances of Mahler 9 I hear the similarities. Perhaps this particular interpretation was just a little too cautious, and there seemed to me to be some minor tuning problems towards the end of the second movement.

There are online reviews of the concert from the Guardian, Times, Sunday Times and Financial Times, which bear out my impressions, and it’s still available on Radio 3’s Listen Again till March 31st. Mitsuko Uchida is playing Berg’s Sonata again at St. George’s, Bristol on Friday April 3rd. And the Chamber Concerto is being conducted by Daniel Barenboim in the 2009 Proms season, on August 21st. It is also featured in ‘Discovering Music’ on Radio 3 on May 3rd.

*I don’t particularly recommend this test; it’s not nearly as good as, for example, Which Dead Russian Composer Are You? Maybe I just don’t get the references to American popular culture in the questions.

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another anniversary

Bet you didn’t know it was the tercentenary of Pergolesi’s birth this year! His dates are usually given as 1710-36, but the first of this is the registration of his birth in early January, rather than the birth itself, so it’s likely he was born in 1709.

The Chandos Singers celebrated by performing his Vespers, incorporating a couple of motets, Beatus Vir and Lauda Jerusalem by Vivaldi. There was a definite distinction in style between the two, though I’d find it hard to define. The Pergolesi seemed to anticipate that galant style, with a lot of simple, short phrases; I found the double-choir (or choir+group of soloists) sections the most interesting.

This made for a long first half – about 1½ hours – and in the second part we turned to another anniversary, that of the Avignon papacy, inaugurated in a Mass in March 1309 whose music we reconstructed. It is rather easy to dismiss music of this era as trivial to perform because for example it does not have a huge range. But it can make unusual demands in areas such as rhythm, no less so than a lot of 20th/21st century repertoire.

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Hear my prayer

I celebrated my birthday by going and singing Mendelssohn’s anthem with a visiting choir (the combined forces of St. Peter’s Caversham and St. John’s Mortimer) in Bristol Cathedral. It seems to be one of those anthems that is famous, but little performed (largely on account of its length, I suspect). At any rate I think this is only the third performance of it I’ve ever sung.

The rest of our service was rather more routine: Rose responses, Noble in B minor and Farrant’s Hide not thou thy face. Bristol made us welcome; I hadn’t sung in the Cathedral within the lifetime of this blog, although I walk past it every time I go to the office.

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Bellringers’ hymns

On my recent visit to Canterbury Cathedral one of these was a late substitution at evensong, in honour of a presentation to leaders of the bell-ringing team. All English hymnbooks seem to have at least one hymn for bellringers, and a collection of a dozen or so can be found here (though intrusive line-breaks don’t make this page easy to read except on a wide screen).

At Canterbury we sang the NEH’s Let bells peal forth the universal fame, which was written for Durham Cathedral (and with a Durham-specific verse which can be omitted). Fortunately we did not follow the page’s suggestion to sing it instead of the Magnificat, on the grounds that the tune is the same as that of a well-known paraphrase of the Magnificat! I’ve never done bellringing, but I did miss the sentiments of another, older hymn, which acknowledge the complexities of the art: Our lives, like bells, while changing, An ordered course pursue ….

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the Howells jinx

I am beginning to feel that at the moment something happens to drastically cut rehearsal time every time I have to sing some Howells. At Birmingham Cathedral it was a loss of power, at Canterbury Cathedral with Priory Voices it was that our rehearsal venue (All Saints chapel) was audible inside the building during a service.

This sort of occurrence has featured in just about all my visits to Canterbury (about five in all, though none within the lifetime of this blog), while being relatively rare in Cathedral visits in general. I recall on other occasions eating lunch at 3 p.m. because we could rehearse in the choir-stalls only at lunchtime, and having to climb over some iron railings because we’d been locked away from the mini-bus which was due to take us back to our lodgings. (These lodgings – which were not run by the Cathedral but were possibly on their list of places for choirs to stay! – were condemned as unfit for people to stay in not long afterwards.)

Canterbury is not the only Cathedral which no longer puts visiting choirs in its own song school, and this does create problems. Ideally the choir needs a room that is: soundproof from the main part of the building but convenient for access to it, equipped with a reasonable practice piano, large enough to accommodate the choir in a sensible rehearsal formation, not likely to be wandered into by the public and secure for leaving possessions in during the service. Even in a complex building with many spaces, such a place may not exist. I hope that the new visitors’ centre Canterbury is planning to build will include a rehearsal room for visiting choirs, if they can’t use the song school. (Exeter, Gloucester and Peterborough might also look into this!)

On a more positive note, we visited during the time when the nave is cleared of chairs, so the eucharist was in the quire and there was no need for the usual ‘build your own choir stalls’ on the steps at the east and of the nave.

So which was the Howells piece which lost out? It was the St Paul’s Service, which I rarely get to sing (Gloucester seems to be the favoured set of Howells canticles at the moment). A shame as it is my favourite among his settings, but it seems to have the reputation of being harder than the others. Perhaps this is because it does require a bit more stamina (being written for a very large acoustic) or because the parts are highly rhythmically independent of one another.

We paired this with Purcell’s Jehova, quam multi sunt hostes mei, for which we had appropriate soloists but again not a lot of rehearsal. Our organist (Paul Carr) was able to use the Cathedral’s chamber organ.

I won’t go through all the rest of the music, but it included Mozart’s Coronation Mass and a new piece to me, Alma redemptoris mater by Palestrina. We didn’t have time in the end during communion for ‘King John of Portugal’s’ Crux Fidelis. The composer of this, whoever they were, deserves some credit, as it’s too good for them to need to lurk modestly behind a pseudonym.

Next up: evensong at Bristol Cathedral on Saturday including (it had to happen) Hear my prayer by Mendelssohn.

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Continuity

Out shopping on Saturday morning, I bumped into a member of the Paragon Singers putting up a poster among various other posters for musical events, and we had a short conversation. Thinking afterwards about forthcoming choral concerts, I realised that most of the concert-giving choirs in Bath have as far as I know had the same conductor for at least the last 15 years. (My own time in Bath doesn’t go this far back but I believe I’m right.)

What causes this stability (if that’s the right word for it)? Bristol choirs seem in general to have a higher turnover of musical directors. I think it must be that once people get here they aren’t in a hurry to leave. And apart from moving away there is little reason to stop conducting your choir until you finally become too old to do so. As an example of how long people can go on, Stephen Wilkinson is about to step down from the William Byrd Singers in Manchester at the age of 90.

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a memorial service at Merton

I’ve written before about the new choral foundation at Merton College Oxford, where I was an undergraduate. I was able to hear the choir last Saturday, though at a rather sad occasion: the memorial service for Tom Braun, who taught ancient history while I was there.

There’s a certain awkwardness surrounding this kind of event. Merton has a policy of not announcing deaths of Fellows on its website; instead, rather as happened with Soviet-era Pravda, their names are quietly removed from the list of Fellows. Subsequent memorial events are, as at some other Colleges, advertised discreetly so as not to attract people who just go for the refreshments afterwards. In fact I’ve found you get people at gatherings in memory of Oxford classicists who seem to regard anyone they don’t recognise as being such an interloper. (I hasten to add they aren’t Mertonians!)

The choir can be another source of awkwardness at memorial services. The sound it produces is wanted, but not necessarily at the cost of the physical space it takes up. So it may be shunted round a corner somewhere (at Merton in my day this tended to mean in the antechapel). This was certainly not the case on Saturday; although there were upwards of 300 in the congregation, the choir was in the centre of the Chapel, occupying the stalls on both sides (something I thought I’d never see!) Another novelty was the use of amplification; and if and when I return for another service I will make sure not to be seated in front of a speaker, so that the chaplain’s voice appears to come from the chaplain!

The choir (with organists and conductor) were not the only musicians present; there was a small chamber orchestra, a harpist (Frances Kelly) and Emma Kirkby. She sang Mozart’s Laudate Dominum from the Solemn Vespers and a song by an acquaintance of Mozart, Stephen Storace. We also heard the slow movement of K299 in an arrangement for harp and the choir and orchestra performed Bach’s single-movement cantata no. 118. For completeness, I’ll mention that the postlude was BWV544 and there was a psalm and three hymns. The final hymn was Nun Danket but not in the standard translation. This one factored the final ‘Amen’ into the metre (rhyming it with ‘been’), but that didn’t stop the organist from playing a plagal cadence afterwards, so we sang ‘Amen’ twice.

This service would have been outside the usual round of services for which the choir sings, and it didn’t seem to be taxed by what was asked of it. It is still new, and I hope that I’ll be able to hear it again in a couple of years when it has its full complement of choral scholars.

[October 2009: I heard the choir again and they were sounding stronger and more confident. The chaplain asked rhetorically why it had taken nearly 750 years to think of setting up a choral foundation. Things have come a long way since the time – less than a decade ago – when even singing Dec and Can or doing more than one choral canticle setting a year would have been anathema!]

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Don’t mention the anniversaries!

It’s impossible to listen to Radio 3 so far this year and not notice that anniversaries of Purcell, Handel, Haydn and Mendelssohn are being commemorated in 2009. I normally remark on occasions when I perform anniversary composers, but I think that this year I should refrain from it because I suspect this is going to happen routinely. I sang Purcell yesterday, and more Purcell and Mendelssohn are looming up in the near future. Nevertheless I enjoy performing and listening to music by all of them, so bring them on!

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the Pink Panther’s cathedral

Priory Voices began the New Year by going to Durham for a weekend of Epiphany music. It got off to a flying start as three of us found ourselves sat in the same part of the same railway carriage on the way there (despite having reserved our seats separately and on very different dates).

The music was mostly familiar: A Spotless Rose, Lo! star-led chiefs and Cornelius’ Three Kings. We sang Britten’s Hymn to the Virgin at our final service, and because of the big space to fill all the Cantoris singers, including me, became the ‘semi-chorus’, standing in front of the high altar while Decani stayed in the stalls. Singing in the quartet just before Christmas stood me in good stead.

The relative rarity was George Malcolm’s Missa ad Praesepe. I’d quite forgotten that after singing it with the Chantry Singers some years ago, I’d recommended it to the conductor of Priory Voices. It’s a straightforward tuneful piece, which has something of the spirit of Charpentier’s Messe de Minuit, although the Agnus Dei is more Viennese in style and there is the odd 20th-century inflection thrown in.

Despite my fears, Durham was actually warmer than down south. I stayed in the Castle which was definitely convenient for the Cathedral. (Be warned that if you are female and stay there you may be quite a way from the nearest shower! The age and nature of the building is the excuse for this, though if they need suggestions for reordering the bathroom arrangements, I’m happy to supply some. The view from my room over the Wear compensated though.)

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