Berberis' World

Saturday, 16th December 2006, St Mary’s Church, Lewisham.

Handel: Arrival of the Queen of Sheba

Vivaldi: Gloria

Cecilia McDowall: Magnificat

Carols for choir and audience: Unto us is born a Son/A Child is born in Bethlehem/The holly and the ivy/The Sussex carol/Quelle est cette odeur agreable?/O come, all ye faithful

Soloists: Joanna Gamble (mezzo-soprano). Caroline Lenton-Ward (soprano).

The Aurelian Ensemble.

Organist: Andrew Dutson. Conductor: Stefan Reid.

Cecilia McDowall’s Magnificat was a first for me. Looking at my score, I think I should have returned it at the end of the concert, but somehow the infamous green Waitrose bag eluded me.

I’ve only listened to it once since the performance, and I can only put this down to the fact that it’s modern. Written in 2003, to be exact. In a nutshell, the reason I don’t like modern religious music is that I think it tries too hard.

Back in the 1980’s, when I was still something of a believer, the church we attended held a more modern service than I was used to, during which we were required to ‘share a sign of peace’. This involved turning to those nearest to us, shaking hands and saying “Peace be with you”, or something similar. I found the whole process embarrassing and artificial. A test of faith too far, if you will.

Anyway, I had a similar reaction to Magnificat. It sounded forced, as if it was trying too hard to prove itself. The odd phrasing, the text, the twee accompaniment. I find the woodwind instruments particularly irksome. And there are places where it sounds as though the more interesting phrases have simply been connected by strings of random notes, much the same way as arias are connected in opera. Just not my cup of tea.

Vivaldi’s Gloria, on the other hand, is old religious music. And I really don’t like it at all. I will go out of my way to not sing it if I possibly can. I’m not sure exactly what it is that I find so irritating; I’d need to hear it again, which I’m not keen to do.

The carols were the usual fare; we giggled like schoolchildren at the one we renamed ‘What’s that smell?’ but otherwise this was an uninspiring concert for me.

Saturday, 11th November 2006, St Paul’s Church, Deptford.

Rachmaninov: Suite No 2 for two pianos
Rossini: Petite Messe Solennelle

Soprano: Caroline Lenton-Ward
Mezzo-Soprano: Joanna Gamble
Tenor: Philip O’Brien
Baritone: Philip Tebb

Harmonium: Andrew Dutson
Pianists: Robert Hunter, Annabelle Lawson

Conductor: Stefan Reid

Gioachino Rossini definitely had a sense of humour. This is the opening of his Petite Messe Solennelle:

Not content with calling this huge (in full, the performance time is nearly two hours) and, at times, very jolly piece ‘little’ and ‘solemn’, he chucks in a few bars that could easily double for the opening to ‘My old man said follow the van’.

No? Just me, then. Fair enough. Anyway, you sit through a number of solos – all wonderfully performed, as expected –  until the Cum Sancto Spiritu, which is best sung from memory, and is a brilliant, exhilarating sing.

The next major choral bit is the Et Resurrexit. I’m now convinced that the solos are only there to allow the choir to recover its collective breath between bouts of exertion because, from fig. 42, it’s all long phrases, fff, and watching the basses go blue with the effort of sustaining those 16 bars. I’ve done gym sessions that are less tiring.

To stretch the metaphor further, the Agnus Dei is the cool down. The contralto soloist is interrupted every now and again by ‘donna nobis pacem’ until 15 bars after fig. 51, when it starts to build towards the key change at fig. 52, and the final seven and a half bars of Rossini basically chuckling to himself.

‘Petite Messe Solennelle’ indeed.

The Suite No. 2 for two pianos is Rachmaninoff in a good mood, which makes a change.

Sunday, 2nd July 2006, London Coliseum.

This was fun. No, seriously, it was. If you ignore the after-show unpleasantness involving some alcohol, a mobile phone and a nearly deserted railway station (no, not a bad remake of Brief Encounter, just a misunderstanding) I have to say I enjoyed myself. And, despite what I might have written elsewhere, I actually enjoyed singing the new, quasi-religious work that had been commissioned for the occasion.

A bit of background. Sing! (the exclamation is obligatory, like Tally Ho!) was organised by the redoubtable Mary King, and was a day spent at the London Coliseum with some of the members of 8 other non-professional choirs and choral societies from all over the UK. The first half was the individual choirs singing works from their repertoire, and the second was all of us singing 3 pieces – ‘Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves’ by Verdi, ‘The Voyagers Chorus’ by Mozart and the new work, ‘genesis’ (fashionably lower case) by Richard Taylor.

We’d had a few rehearsals of ‘genesis’ before a Saturday workshop at Goldsmith’s College, and had been provided with a score and a rehearsal CD for homework. On this were the voices of professional singers (Mary included) and 5 different versions; 1 with all the parts at the same level, the other 4 each with one voice part louder than the rest. The score had to be returned, but I still have the CD, and occasionally put it on in the car. It’s a good one to warm up to, if you ignore the odd looks you get from pedestrians.

Those of us from Lewisham Choral Society who had agreed to sacrifice this Sunday in early July had chosen to sing ‘Who is Sylvia?’ and ‘Live with me and me my love’, as we had recently performed these in concert. We were thwarted as regards the latter, however, when we found out that another choir had chosen it, and earlier. We plumped for ‘Hey, ho, the wind and the rain’ instead – no-one’s favourite, but beggars etc. In the end, it went very well, we sounded lovely, and the interval was reached without incident.

I like ‘Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves’. I make no apologies for this. However, it was treated as something less than worthy during rehearsals, which irritated me. It’s lovely, moreso than the Mozart, in my opinion. And, en masse, ‘genesis’ was superb. I have dismissed modern religious music elsewhere, but I found this much less… pretentious?… twee?… pompous?… I’m not sure any of those words are right, but I liked singing ‘genesis’ in the same way that I’d not liked the other ones.

Whatever the day’s content, it was a really good experience to sing in such a large choir – I’d not done so before: the buzz at the end is worth all the cramped dressing rooms and overpriced refreshments. It’s also great to walk amongst the general public with your badge and your score and know that you are part of the show rather than a spectator. Don’t get me wrong: I love going to concerts. Being in the audience at the performance of a favourite work is hugely emotional, but there is a special thrill from being in the cast.

Minor unpleasantness aside, a most wonderful day.

Saturday, 24th June 2006, St Mary’s Church, Lewisham.

Claudio Monteverdi: Vespro della Beata Vergine (Vespers of 1610)

Soprano: Emma Murphy
Countertenor: Magid El-Bushra
Tenors: Tom Raskin, Adam Tunnicliffe
Basses: Patrick Ardagh-Walter, Charles Pott

Sydenham High School Junior Choir (Director: Caroline Lenton-Ward)

Eton Chapel Cornetts and Sackbuts
Cornetti: Nigel Paul, David Staff, Daniel Weitz
Sackbuts: Sue Addison, Tom Hammond, Andrew Harwood-White
Violins: Barbara Barros, Hazel Brooks
Violas: Wendy Kelly, Alexandra Lawrence
Cello: Abigail Wall
Violone: Bill Hunt
Chittaron: Robin Jeffrey
Chamber Organ: Martin Knizia

Conductor: Stefan Reid

This was interesting. It’s a big score, physically as well as in content. Any sensible person would have cut it in half to make it easier to carry for the duration of the concert.  It’s also available in three colours: red – Lauda Jerusalem & Magnificat transposed fown a fouth; blue – Lauda Jerusalem & Magnificat untransposed; green – any other transposition you might desire. Ours was red. Nice and cheerful.

The alto part is all over the place. We start the Domine ad adiuvandum on an A (composers do like this note for altos) and get a high F# towards the end. Promising. But Dixit Dominus sees us on the tenor line, and here we stay until the end. We complained bitterly about this during rehearsals – and during the following AGM, and for some time afterwards – but, to be fair, there are still some interesting things to sing, including Ave maris stella: Hymnus a 8, which has some beautiful harmonies. There is a suspension in bar 37 – the second minim – which I would like to be able to play at the press of a button.

According to the index, this was written for no more than 10 voices. So you can imagine that, with upwards of 140 people, some of the parts were going to be challenging to do well. Even if everyone’s paying attention, things can easily go astray if one person comes in early/late/on the wrong note. Perhaps this was why Stefan decided to divvy up some of the sections to a semi-chorus, for which I volunteered. He further divided the phrases between a couple of voices, and Kate and I got bars 46-53 in the Laudate Pueri a 8.

It went okay – I was a little nervous, but a few nerves are good to stop you getting complacent – so I was very surprised when Stefan approched me after the concert to tell me I should be singing more solos. It was heartening to have my contribution recognised and appreciated.

Saturday, 18th March, 2006, St Paul’s Church, Deptford.

Handel: Zadok the Priest
Soprano solo: Handel – Eternal Source of Light Divine
Organ solo: Bach – Prelude in B minor BWV 544
Soprano solo: Handel – Let the Bright Seraphim
Handel: The King Shall Rejoice
Liszt: Missa Choralis
Soprano solo: Burgon – Nunc Dimittis
Britten: Rejoice in The Lamb

Soprano: Caroline Lenton-Ward
Trumpet: David Clewlow
Organ: Andrew Dutson and Stefan Reid
Conductor: Stefan Reid

There were two new pieces here – Liszt’s Missa Choralis and Britten’s Rejoice In The Lamb. The Liszt starts out sounding a little derivative, but takes a lovely, ethereal turn at the Bendictus. This continues through the Agnus Dei, which contains some to-die-for suspensions that the altos (yes!) get to sing. There are some beautiful phrases in this. The other-worldly feel continues, more or less, to the end. Occasional solos – which are normally done by a semi-chorus in a choral society – punctuate this piece. It’s a little gem.

The Britten is weird. ‘For I will consider my cat, Jeoffrey.’ Eh? Words by a man with mental health issues, music by a near genius. The divide is imperceptible. Some of the Lamb is embarassing (‘For the Mouse is a creature of geat personal valour’ – really?), and some is nonsense (‘For the cymbal rhimes are bell well toll soul and the like’ – um… no.).

However, some is intensely wonderful, and it’s worth the silliness to get there. The slow build from ‘For I am under the same accusations…’ to ‘For Silly fellow…’ definitely has the the tingle factor. From figure 30, you need supreme breath control and more than a weather eye on the conductor, but it’s very rewarding.