Berberis' World

Saturday, 30th June 2007, Blackheath Halls.

I loved singing this. Loved it, and would jump at any chance to sing it again. From the loud declamation of the opening 4 bars of the Kyrie to the slow, almost sensuous build to the climax of the Dona Nobis Pacem at the end (the Appendix of Et in unum Dominum is best left unsung), the B Minor Mass contains some of the most glorious music I have heard or sung.

Okay, so after the first 4 bars the first Kyrie does ramble a bit, but the melodies and harmonies and phrasing are wonderful, it ebbs and flows like a tide and is, overall, splendid stuff.

The second Kyrie follows a sop/alto duet, and is also full of lovely swooping lines for altos, including a feisty D#, which is always fun. What follows is the awesome Gloria in excelsis, the altos starting low and loud in a movement which motors along in an almost bouncing 3/8 before being brought to an abrupt halt by the beginning of the Et in terra pax. The start of this movement is one of those gear changes in singing that requires conscious thought for the early rehearsals, and is also the first time that you encounter the long semi-quaver runs which are very prevalent in this piece.

These are best known off by heart. Trying to sight read, at speed, whilst watching the conductor (something most amateur choirs can NEVER do enough of) is impossible. Repetition, repetition, repetition.

The soprano then warbles on for a while before the Gratias agimus tibi. This and the Qui tollis peccata mundi make a soprano/tenor sandwich, the Qui tollis being one of the most beautiful pieces of music I’ve ever sung. It’s slow and emotive – and probably a bit cheesy because of this – but you have to be pitch perfect, your breathing inaudible and your F below bottom C (which is low, even for an alto) has to be spot on.

So, you’re basking in the afterglow of the Qui tollis, feeling very pleased with yourself that it sounded that good, when the counter-tenor stands up. And what follows is the Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, just under five minutes of the kind of singing usually done by angels. When the soloist sang this at the first tutti rehearsal we just looked at each other, open-mouthed in amazement, and I’ve adored the voice since then.

The next choir involvement is the Cum sancto spiritu,which has more of those semi-quaver runs you really need to know by heart so that you can focus entirely on the conductor, some lovely swooping phrases and twiddly bits without the distraction of having to look at the music. It’s a wonderfully invigorating sing.

After the interval are the Credo in unum Deum and Patrem omipotentem. There’s something about the Credo which jars – I think it’s the accompaniment, which stomps around rather clumsily under the singing – and, thankfully, both it and the Patrem are over in three minutes. To me, both these movements sound off, like Bach wasn’t quite on his game when he wrote them. Actually, it’s probably just as well, or I’d run out of superlatives.

The sop/alto duet is followed by Et in carnatus est, during which I forget how much I didn’t like the previous few minutes. Bach completely redeems himself with some glorious harmonies in both this and the subsequent Crucifixus. Tuning is crucial here, as is breathinginthe…. right place.

Wholly different is the Et resurrexit, another vocal gear change. It bounces along in 6/8, with a lively bass solo in the middle, and some more (by now) familiar semi-quaver runs. The bass gets to sing some more before the choir are back with the Confeeteor… sorry, Confiteor. Italian style vowels, not Sarf Lanhdahn. It really does make a difference. (We were once encouraged to rehearse something in the Sarf Lahndhan stylee and then in Italian just to hear how much better it sounded when sung properly. I couldn’t stop laughing). The Confiteor is similar to the Credo, and is another of these keep-your-eyes-on-the-conductor pieces as there is a massive rit at bar 118 into the Et expecto. It’s best to know this by heart as you need to be ready for the much quicker Et expecto resurrectionem at bar 147.

The Sanctus gives you 48 bars to catch your breath before going into Plenisunt coeli et terra, more semi-quaver runs and something to get your teeth into from bar 148. Being able to count is helpful.

You get to sing the Osanna in excelsis twice, with a tenor solo the filling in the sandwich. Or you can skip that and go directly to the penultimate movement. This is the achingly beautiful solo Agnus Dei, sung by the counter-tenor. Of all the solos, it’s only the counter-tenor’s that I can remember.

Lastly, but by no means least, is the Dona Nobis Pacem. I shall always be grateful to Bach for being forward-thinking enough to recycle, because this tune demands to be sung twice, and is absolutely the best way to end this Mass. It starts softly, the intensity and the volume building and building, until you simply have to let the music wash over you. You have to know at least the last 13 and a half bars from memory, in order to fully wallow in the surely obligatory (and humungously cheesy) rit of the final bar and a half, the aural equivalent of an orgasm.

Now, when can I sing it again…?