Berberis' World

Saturday, 9th October 2010, Royal Festival Hall.

“Following their success last year with Dvorák’s ‘Requiem’… Neeme Järvi and the London Philharmonic presented two better-known choral works in this Royal Festival Hall concert. The moving ‘Stabat Mater’ and jubilant ‘Te Deum’… The London Philharmonic Chorus was on fine form, impressively unanimous in moments of both subtle intimacy and full-throated might… the magnificent a cappella passage at the end of the final chorus was spine-tingling.”

Graham Rogers, classicalsource.com

“…excellent, well-balanced choral work… a wonderful ‘Paradisi gloria’ and a miraculous unaccompanied choral moment near the end… The London Philharmonic Choir remains a superb group, working impressively as a single body at either end of the dynamic spectrum.”

Colin Clarke, musicweb-international.com

“Superbly drilled, the London Philharmonic Choir came into its own in the a cappella passages, but sang impressively throughout.”

Erica Jeal, guardian.co.uk

Better known, eh? Well, I’d not heard either of these pieces before, and it took a while for each of them to grow on me. In the end, I much preferred the Stabat Mater to the Te Deum, but my enjoyment (and the anticipation of savouring the wonderful lines of the opening movement) was somewhat spoiled by the fact that it was taken at what I considered to be an indecently fast tempo. Dvorak wrote the Stabat Mater during a relatively short period of time when three of his children died – one at only 2 days of age – and the opening movement should not (in my humble opinion) have been taken at a Usain Bolt-like breakneck speed.

Maestro Jarvi’s stated reason for proceeding with such alacrity was that the opening movement is ‘very long’ (between 17 and 20 minutes) and he didn’t want to “bore” the audience! The recording I’ve been listening to takes the opening at a slower – frankly, more respectful – tempo, which makes so much more sense against the background of Dvorak’s undoubted grief. For the sake of doing proper justice to some very moving music, I’d have risked one or two people possibly being bored. No, I’d have risked them all being bored in order that just one or two of them might hear the anguish, the aching poignancy contained in those bars.

But he is the Maestro, and he has the baton, and we follow it whether we like it or not. Anyway, after the sprint to Movement 2, things were allowed to calm down a bit. I particularly enjoyed both the ‘Eia, Mater’ and the ‘Virgo, Virginum’, although (once again) I was unlucky enough to catch something virulent in the run-up to the concert, which meant that I had a much better final rehearsal than performance. Just as well they recorded both.

The final movement is written to be played at the same tempo as the first. Thankfully, Jarvi took notice of the composer’s instructions and conducted it at a speed that I think both we (the choir) and the audience (at the receiving end) found more appropriate. At the very end, the unaccompanied ‘Quando corpus’ was less conducted than fought, with Jarvi clutching the baton with both hands, wielding it in the manner of Obi-Wan Kenobi battling Darth Vader. I almost expected lightning to shoot from it.

As usual, I ran out of breath at the worst moments, which just reinforces my belief that singing lessons would be a good idea. I think we managed to remember everything Neville had nagged us about – most importantly the fact that Maestro Jarvi could be ‘unpredictable’ in his interpretation – as he seemed quite happy at all three curtain calls.

Not to forget the Te Deum: it was quite Christmassy.