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.

Saturday, 4th September 2010.

A friend of mine left London today, to go oop Nowath to teach. We joined the LPC at roughly the same time – I think I had my audition a week or two earlier – but only met properly just before the Xmas concert at Bishopsgate that same year. We got chatting in the corridor as we lined up before the concert, and I liked her straight away. She was clever and funny and, having felt a little out of my depth in this new musical environment, it was good to see a friendly face at rehearsals. We would sit at the back, generally enjoying ourselves as we worked through the piece.

We were always laughing at something; we’d rename pieces, draw cartoons, make up new words and, frankly, act like a couple of kids, to the disapproval of some of the more senior members of the choir. Elijah’s folded beard springs instantly to mind, as does ‘Bobby Shaftoe’ in front of 2000 or so clinical immunologists. We renamed it ‘Bobby Charlton’ and dared each other to sing that instead. It was a lot of fun, and I will miss that. Rehearsals for Dvorak start on Monday, and it’s going to be odd her not being there.

Still, things change, and it’s been a week of coming to terms with change. Zachary didn’t do well enough in his GCSEs to get into his 6th form of choice, so has had to rethink his immediate future. To his credit, he’s done this with only a little complaint; after a fraught few days, he took my advice and went to a local college, got himself through an interview and enrolled in just 2 days. He starts on Wednesday, and we’re hoping that it’s the wake-up call he needed after what appeared to us to be 12 months of complacency on his part. It was evident in his school work that he became either lazy or distracted just at the wrong time, and never really caught up. Perhaps concentrating on just one subject at college – rather than studying 3 for the sake of it at 6th form – will be more productive.

And both he and I will have to find someone new to sit next to.

Saturday, 20th February 2010, Royal Festival Hall.

“…inclusion of [The Eternal Gospel] this unwieldy yet absorbing hybrid of symphonic poem and cantata was welcome in view of its rarity… this setting of Jarosalv Vrchlick’s poem… has a fervency that came across strongly. It helped that Sofia Fomina was so eloquent in the lines allotted to the Angel, and if Adrian Thompson… was severely tested… his commitment was never in doubt. Neither was that of the London Philharmonic Choir, making for a gripping performance that was by some measure the highlight of the evening.”

Richard Whitehouse, Classical Source.“The Eternal Gospel was an unexpected success: no easy Bohemian lyricism here, either, but a blaze of ecstatic choral chant and terse instrumental motifs. The London Philharmonic Choir distinguished itself…”

Andrew Clark, FT.

“The London Philharmonic Choir brimmed with ardour…”

Geoff Brown, TimesOnline.

The positivity of these reviews is, in my opinion, generous, considering the breivity of the part played in this concert by the choir. It was very fortunate that we were on in the first half, because if I’d had to sit around for nearly 2 hours to sing for maybe 15 minues, I’d have been less than enthusiastic. As it was, this was not the most fun I’ve ever had in the Festival Hall.

The choral involvement in Eternal Gospel is minimal, as it is in Beethoven’s 9th, but the latter is almost the entirety of the final movement whereas, in the Janacek, it is spread throughout the piece, thus diluting (for me) its impact. There are two places where we got the chance to really let go, and neither seemed to do anything, or go anywhere.

Add to this unsatisfactory mix the Festival Hall’s organ and you have the ingredients for a short, and less than sweet, evening, about which there is very little more to say.

Saturday, 13th February 2010, Royal Festival Hall.

“The evening yielded two Pavans…  from which the aching lamentations of Poulenc’s Stabat Mater made for a highly original (and rarely heard) climax to the programme. The fantastic mix of textures and moods in this piece – angelic one moment, all grimacing gargoyles the next – lends it a slightly subversive tone and there’s something sensually Caravaggian about its pained chromaticism… purity is close to eroticism here and that’s something Nezet-Seguin appeared to have shared with the LPO Choir.”

Edward Seckerson, The Independent

We had such fun with this in rehearsal. My score was liberally decorated with cartoons and comments regarding the music (and its degree of cheesiness) and the text (and its degree of ridiculousness). However, when Neville said that ‘Poulenc’ was pronounced ‘Plank’, unbounded hilarity ensued.

Having said all that, I finally enjoyed singing this piece – having, for reasons already mentioned, not been hugely enamoured in the beginning – and it was a joy to work with Yannick Nezet-Seguin again. He’s adorable; enthusiastic, generous (and tactful) and I give not a fig about the alleged tendency towards ‘fly-catching’ that some have criticised.

It was unfortunate, then, that we were required to sing the choral version of Faure’s Pavane. This is a criminally over-used piece of music at best, the addition of lyrics simply compounding the crime. Twee and embarrassing.

Some of the LPC sops and alts were selected to perform the Debussy ‘Nocturnes’ and most of the rest of the LPC sat in the side stalls to listen. It was a lovely and ethereal climax to some gorgeous performances by the LPO.

During the rehearsal the last-minute sop sub Claire Booth seemed to rely very heavily on a pencil, which she wielded deftly with her left hand. We figured that her amazing voice actually emerged from the end of this magic pencil, which could explain the reviews. Professional singers should, ideally, not suffer from stage fright.

Saturday, 5th December 2009, Royal Festival Hall.

“Arthur Honegger’s ‘Christmas Cantata‘ is the jewel in this composer’s catalogue. Written at the very end of his life, it is a profound work, setting words from the Bible and various carols. Starting quietly and building in intensity until Honegger unleashes huge cries de monde this is tortured stuff but passionate and deeply felt. The work ends with a glorious chorus concluding with a large Amen and the organ returns with the music of the opening. Tonight we heard a performance of such intensity that one could well believe that all involved were so deeply caught up in the performance that they were left as breathless as the audience. It brought a superb ending… the best solo singing came from Ruxandra Donose and Andrew Staples, both of whom displayed a lovely sense of line, using vibrato as it should be used, as  an expressive devise (sic). [The London Philharmonic] Choir and Children’s Choir both gave excellent performances…”

Bob Briggs, Musicweb International.

“This concert brought many delights and surprises as well as consistently fine performances. […] Mendelssohn’s setting [of ‘Vom Himmel Hoch’] made a jubilant and lyrical opening to this refreshing collection of works. ‘The First Nowell‘ was Vaughan Williams’s final music and, indeed, he passed away before finishing it, leaving Roy Douglas (due to turn 102 a week after this concert) to complete the work… particularly lovely in ‘On Christmas night…’ the crowning glory being ‘The First Nowell’ itself. [‘Christen, atzet diesen Tag’] by Johann Sebastian Bach proved sublime, springy and exhilarating.

Honegger’s ‘A Christmas Cantata‘ (from the end of his life, he died in 1955), for baritone, chorus, children’s choir and an orchestra of strings, winds and brass with organ… but no percussion, begins in the depths, the emerging ostinato reminding of the finale of his Symphonie liturgique (Symphony No.3), the children’s choir offering contrasting radiance and innocence. The change to optimism is magically achieved, the music dancing, lullabying, and reaching ecstasy and rapt transfiguration, ending quietly. It’s a great piece and was done proud here.”

Colin Anderson, The Classical Source.

Blimey, but this was LOUD. You know when people say they can’t hear themselves speak? Well, when the organ kicked in at the end of the Honegger we couldn’t hear ourselves sing, even though there were 150 of us and we were at full volume. It was almost pot luck as to what note you were singing unless you stuck a finger in your ear, which not only looks ridiculous but could result in the loss of the score if your folder was the type to fold right back on itself. Current models are designed with two strategically positioned straps: one to allow it to open so far and no further; the other to allow it to be held in one hand, weight of score permitting.

I was unimpressed with the Honegger to start with. Even now I can’t say I would rush to sing it again, but I’m glad I did the concert. The other pieces were less enjoyable, perhaps because I’d not done as much homework as I normally do; it’s easy to assume that smaller and/or more familiar works don’t require the extra-curricular attention but these did, and I know that this lack of attention to detail showed in my performance.

‘The First Nowell’ took on a darker dimension than its somewhat fluffy content betrayed when Vladimir pointed out the very bar at which Vaughan Williams died. After this, every time I sang it, I had a lump in my throat. The dreaded unaccompanied sop1/sop2/alt section, for all its problems in rehearsal, actually went very well after some last-minute cramming (and I do mean last minute… as in during the solo beforehand).

Mendelssohn’s ‘Vom Himmel Hoch’ is gorgeous when sung properly, with some wonderful crunches. However, it is one of those pieces that is best sung (dare I say it?) by a church choir, with boy trebles singing the soprano line. Then it shimmers, not unlike Whitacre’s ‘Lux Arumque’.

Bach’s ‘Christen atzet diesen Tag’ I didn’t like quite as much, even when sung by a professional choir. It has a soprano/boy soprano+bass duet which not only goes on twice as long as it ought to, but causes aural discomfort akin to listening to someone scraping their fingernails deliberately, tortuously slowly down a blackboard. Not one of his best.

So, all in all, a bit patchy, but ending on a exceedingly low note. If you’ve heard the Honegger, you’ll understand what I mean.