Berberis' World

Saturday, 8th March 2008, St Paul’s Church, Deptford.

Philip Glass: There are some men/Quand les hommes vivront d’amour/Pierre de soleil (part)

Leonard Bernstein: Extinguish My Eyes/When My Soul Touches Yours/A Simple Song (from Mass).

Eric Whitacre: Lux arumque.

Samuel Barber: To be sung on the water/Adagio for Strings arr. for organ by William Strickland

Michael Tippett – Five Spirituals from A Child of Our Time: Steal away/Nobody knows/Go down, Moses/By and by/Deep River

Aaron Copland – Old American Songs: The Boatmen’s Dance/The Little Horses/Zion’s Walls/In the Beginning

Soloist: Rebecca Afonwy-Jones. Organist: Andrew Dutson. Conductor: Stefan Reid.

I can clearly recall four things from this concert. The first is that my hubby, who’d come along on the strength of there being Philip Glass on the programme, made his excuses afterwards and spent the second half sitting in the car listening to the radio. The second is that Whitacre’s Lux Arumque, a sublime, shimmering piece, was spoiled somewhat by the soprano who missed the top G by at least a semitone. Thirdly, Barber’s Adagio should not, in my opinion, be played on the organ. Finally, and despite much practicing, I took my eye off Stefan at a crucial moment during In the Beginning and was, for a bar and a half, at least 2 bars ahead of everyone else.

It sounds as if I didn’t enjoy this concert, doesn’t it? Actually, I did. One bum note does not a disaster make, and I doubt that anyone else noticed my over-eagerness to finish the Copland before the rest of the choir. In the Beginning is a lovely piece; full of dips and swells and rich harmonies (lots of high notes for altos) and a rousing finale. I can ignore the ridiculous creationist text, in much the same way that I can accept the overt religiousness of the spirituals, which I really loved singing. This was a surprise to me if no one else.

Saturday, 15th December 2007, St Mary’s, Lewisham.

Lo! He comes with clouds descending (Wesley/Cennick) – O magnum mysterium (Gabrieli) – Jesus Christ the apple tree (Poston/Smith) – O little town of Bethlehem (Vaughan Williams/Armstrong/Brooks) – A child is born in Bethlehem (Scheidt) – Nativity Carol (Rutter) – Hodie Christus natus est (Gabrieli)

Jardin du Monde by Robert Percy

The first Nowell/The shepherd’s farewell/In the bleak midwinter/As with gladness men of old/The three kings/Coventry carol/Past three o’clock/Jingle, bells/Ding dong! Merrily on high/A merry Christmas/O come, all ye faithful

As the running order suggests, this was standard Xmas fare, interrupted by the first performance of a brand new piece. Robert Percy was our adopted composer, and Jardin du Monde was the first movement of a composition called Happiness. The plan was to perform the whole piece, but it either hadn’t been finished or we didn’t learn it fast enough – I don’t remember which.

The highlight for me, however, was Gabrieli’s O Magnum Mysterium. It wasn’t the first time we’d performed it, but it really does bear repeating. There are some lovely melodic lines in this for the altos, and really glorious harmonies. Beautiful. Short, but beautiful.

Otherwise, carols tend to make me well up, primarily because they are full of musical cliches; melodies and harmonies guaranteed to elicit a very brisk blub reflex. Half time provided an opportunity to imbibe, which made my attempt at the obvious descants if not successful then certainly more likely. All in all, good fun.

Saturday, 10th November 2007, Blackheath Halls.

My, but this is BIG. And it’s got everything; slow bits, fast bits, quiet bits, loud bits, slow and quiet bits, loud and fast bits. It’s the one with the bit that goes ‘laa la la la la la la lalalalalalalalala laa lala‘ which is fine for the 1st sops but fairly dull for everyone else. You know the one… it’s used in advertising almost as often as O, Fortuna.

Despite that, I really enjoyed singing this, mainly because it’s so… so Italian. Whilst the aforementioned Dies Irae is thrilling to listen to, much more satisfying to sing are the Rex Tremendae, which ends in the almost sobbing plea of ”Salve me” and the Lacrymosa, which contains some delicious phrases and lovely harmonies.

Movement 4 is the Sanctus, which fair bounces along until towards the end, when you can open your throat and give it some really welly on the breves and semi-breves of “Hosanna in excelsis”. This is countered beautifully by the following Agnus Dei, all ppp and precise pitching.

The final movement, Libera Me, starts with some very soft voicing by the chorus before the soprano solo, none of which I remember because I simply could not wait to get to the final fugue. After dispensing with the Dies Irae opening, you get the andante Requiem aeternam which is actually quite difficult, as the chorus needs the most precise timing, tuning and volume control to accompany the soprano.

From the final top B, she then bursts out with the beginning of the Libera me before the altos lead in the chorus, the orchestra interrupting every few bars with some amazingly quick, thrusting arpeggios. Just when you think it’s over, it surges again; the final Dum veneris is incredible to sing, but too short!! It’s over almost before it’s begun, and the juggernaut finally slows to a halt with a repeated sigh of Libera me.

Definitely one to do again, and soon.

Soloists: Cheryl Enever (soprano), Joanna Gamble (mezzo-soprano), Stephen Brown (tenor), Simon Preece (baritone).

Aurelian Symphony Orchestra: Leader Michael Gray.

Conductor: Stefan Reid.

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…?

Saturday, 24th March 2007, St Paul’s Church, Deptford.

Tallis: Spem in alium

Tavener: Ikon of Light

Pärt: Seven Magnificent Antiphons

Monteverdi: Quattro Canzoni

Sweelinck: Ballo del Granduca

Tallis: Spem in alium

Violin: Caryn Cohen

Viola: Melissa Bastin

‘Cello: Sheida Davis

Organ: Andrew Dutson

Conductor: Stefan Reid

Spem in Alium was written for 40 voices, split into 8 choirs of 5 voices (soprano, alto, tenor, baritone and bass). Even with 40 voices, this becomes an undulating wall of sound. With a choir of 150+ this split becomes a bit unwieldy, as you need every person singing each voice part to be exactly on time and in tune. I was in choir 1, one of 3 voices who started the piece. I sang this, first time round, standing on the far corner of the stage, unable to see Stefan, hoping that I didn’t fall off the edge of the temporary trestle.

Tavener’s Ikon of Light was a real challenge. Pitching every note was really difficult, as there were so few clues in the rather sparse accompaniment, and it was sung in Greek, not a language I am particularly familiar with. I quite liked it, though.

Arvo Pärt is the man responsible for Fratres, probably the most melancholy music ever written. Seven Magnificent Antiphons is (are?) beautiful, and less jarring than Ikon. I love this orthodox style of singing. It’s so precise, relying on each voice part to be perfectly in tune, and not just musically. With unaccompanied music, you have to almost be able to sense when to sing.

For the repeat performance of Spem, the 8 choirs were placed strategically around the church, as Tallis himself may have had his singers stand. Apparently, it made a difference to the overall sound. Whether or not it made it sound better I don’t remember, but it was good to be able to sing it again.