The Blagovest Ensemble & Last Night of the Proms

So as it turns out, I'm not really that good at this blogging business...I sort of forget to write things down as soon as I think them. Play me a good tune and I'LL TALK ABOUT IT IN CAPS LOCK WITH YOU FOR AN ETERNITY - but give me time for it to all sink in and I get a bit boring and pretentious. So here's to trying again - I am determined to not let this fail!

As it turns out, not even sitting cosy with a cup of tea watching the well known Conservative propaganda called 'The Last Night of the Proms', can keep the classical music lovers of the tiny little village of Belbroughten away from a bit of the live stuff. The Blagovest Ensemble from Russia for some reason included the Holy Trinity church in their UK tour - and as the translation of Blagovest may suggest, it was 'good news' for all who attended - including the youngest members of the audience - my good friend Anna and myself.

With a mixed programme of Russian Orthodox sacred music and folk song, the 6 singers worked wonderfully together - especially after the interval, when someone must have suggested to the mezzo to turn the volume down. I just LOVE the Bass in Russian music, it's so rich and colourful, which works so wonderfully with the pious sacred music; the two seem inseparable - the rich sound conjuring images of the ornate interior of a Russian cathedral so vividly - even in a tiny protestant church in the West Midlands. The single Bass in this ensemble was fantastic. Though it has to be said, the highlight where he was concerned was simply hearing him speak - NO ONE has a speaking voice lower than Miroslav Alexeev. No one.

As we drove home from our Russian experience, constantly pressing replay on a 27 second clip of Joyce DiDonato singing some Rossini, it dawned on us just how cool we really are. ESPECIALLY as our night wasn't over...that a recording of the Proms was waiting for us at our destination! Ah, technology... As expected, all of Renée Fleming's contribution was just wonderful; my general disdain for the Proms and all things British turning into a faint flame of patriotism with her rousing rendition of Rule Britannia.

So from a truly ancient, exotic and Orthodox tradition, to a very British, unruly and Tory one...who can guess who comes out on top I wonder...

"Drop in the Ocean"

It's safe to say, that I'm really jealous of Latvia. It's literally overflowing with choirs. Virtually every company, society, school sings. Singing seems to be an intrinsic part of their culture, and the quality that comes from this is outstanding. The 'Kamer...' choir that recorded this disc are a youth choir...once you listen to the piece you'll understand how unbelievable this is.

I listened to what is apparently the best track on a disc bursting with virtuosity; and that is the effervescent and haunting, "Drop in the Ocean". Using text from Psalms and The New Testament, the composer, Esenvalds has succeeded in creating an arresting and original sound, that often mirrors it's title - each sound creating a ripple, that gradually builds into a full blown wave, before dying down once more.

The piece is basically unaccompanied, a backing of eerie, haunting sounds being the only addition to the choir - and it doesn't exactly serve as a musical starting block for the choir anyway, who seem to have a magical ability to pick out the correct pitch from thin air. The pure sound of the choir really suits the religious theme of the text, and the pious sound is whipped into the 21st century with a good dose of chromaticism here and there. It's really breathtaking when the entire choir comes together, in a raucous, brilliant climax - which is set off by some great counter rhythm in what sounds like the tenor section. And this somehow disappears into thin air, as the phrases repeat, each time gradually thinning, before vanishing completely with some magnificent diminuendo. Though, this is far too complex for me to fully understand I think, unfortunately. It's beautiful to listen to though...and at least, thankfully, I can appreciate that.

"Ohime, se tanto amate"

Now time for a spot of musical innuendo, in the form the madrigal Ohime, se tanto amate by revolutionary Renaissance composer Claudio Monteverdi! Yay!

Some of Monteverdi's good old revolutionary ideas crop up in this madrigal, though he manages to weave them in to what was normal practice at the time. There's lots of false relations (like...notes moving to their next-door neighbour, so to speak, with no preparation) which was quite common at the time...but Monteverdi looks several centuries ahead of his time, including a lot of chromatic intervals...adding to what's already a bit a-tonal; there are 4 different keys within the first 4 bars!

But now onto the slightly weird stuff...you'll see what I mean when you read a translation of the lyrics:

Ah me, my lady, if you so delight

to hear a breathed 'ah me',

Why then so swiftly doom to endless night

A wretch that breaths 'ah me'?

For if I die, brief will your pleasure be

to hear one weak and anguished last 'ah me',

But if you grant me grace, my lady bright,

Then shall you hear my ecstasy

Ten thousand times breathe out a soft 'ah me'...

Right...Just listen to the piece and you'll see that Monteverdi was in fact very skilled in word painting. It's weird to imagine this being sung at a party somewhere...must have been like the Renaissance equivalent to having Eddie Izzard in to do stand-up; really rude, but funny all the same. Minus the cross dressing of course. What an odd twist that would be.

"Ye boundless realms of joy"

I've just got back from Evensong rehearsal - and all I can say is - Anthem 18 from Handel's 'Chandos Anthems' is LOTS of fun to sight sing. In the frantic effort to get in notes and words, it was a surprise I came through alive. But I did! Hurrah!

Unfortunately we don't have a Baroque orchestra accompanying us, but I think I'd trade them any day for the wonderful acoustics we get in a Cathedral. One of my teachers has said that it's best to have lessons in a 'dead' room so that you're pleasantly surprised at even a slightly better acoustic - but there's nothing like the vaulted ceiling of a Cathedral to put a singer at ease!

This, kids, is contrapuntal to the extreme...it was so mental to sight read whilst everyone was doing their own thing around you...though, that's a choir for you! Matters weren't made all that much better due to the interesting publication we had, which had a lovely octave G over the page turn...oh HI! However, no amount of moaning can detract from the fact that this is a lovely anthem.

One of my particular highlights, is how every part comes from their different winding paths for certain important phrases such as 'His praise your song employ', 'above the starry frame'...and so on. Very simple, but has a very poignant effect on singer and listener alike I think. Though it's the weaving of the vocal parts that really pulls the listener along, and gives it that lovely baroque bounce :)

"Alélyoua"

After hearing the news that a survivor has been found, a full 11 days after the Haitian earthquake, I felt I needed to find some music that could lift spirits and make us believe that miracles can happen.

Little needs to be said about this choral piece by Haitian composer, Emile Desamours, as anyone who listens to it will surely be able to feel the palpable joy. One note though; there is a vocal technique that runs through it that takes my breath away every single time - where the entire choir push the sound forward in such a focused and concentrated way, that it sounds like a single voice. Mixed in between some 'traditional' harmonies, there is a definite percussive element which creates a 'folk' feel - making a perfect bridge with the traditional music that is so intrinsic to Haitian culture.

Hopefully, in the very near future, Haiti will experience this joy again, and have the inspiration to create more of this spirited music.

"Waterloo Sunset - Choral Collection"

So I was flicking through my Classic FM magazine, as you do, when on the 'opera & vocal' review, I came across The Kinks. Well that's something you don't expect! I love the song 'Waterloo Sunset' though, so I thought I'd check out this choral arrangement. And it got 4 stars...so it better be good!

I have to say, from my first listen I was slightly disappointed. As it's essentially 'Waterloo Sunset' as we already know it...just using a choir instead of solo backing vocals. As Classic FM says, 'Davies's melodic genius feels reborn - without ironing out any of the Kinks'. And I suppose with a seminal song as 'Waterloo Sunset', you can't really go about changing it that much for fear of some sort of divine retribution.

It's interesting how with a choir, the entire piece becomes much more reflective; which is exactly what Ray Davies must have been doing as he arranged the choral part. And someone's clearly been to harmony class. The choral element removes the somewhat 50's feel of the original song; the 'sha la la's' morphing from typical 50's scat like backing singing, into a solid, unified sound. It's also clever how the choir have replaced much of the instrumentation of the first version, creating a more acoustic, slightly more sparse sound - that is until the entire choir is singing at once - after their staggered entrances. A few other more 'classical' elements sound like they've been thrown in, most notably a lovely rallentando before the final 'coda' comes in.

I nearly jumped for joy when it was over. Not because it was over, I was really rather enjoying it, but because there was an authentic cadence! I remember constantly stressing out and having to resolve the fade out of the original version. It just ended with a lingering imperfect cadence, that just hung in the air afterwards, haunting me! I think I really might have problems...I cried upon hearing a I-VI chord progression today...this clearly isn't good.

"Priveghiati si va rugati"

Before I begin, I don't pretend to know anything about the Romanian Orthodox Church and its music; but a friend recommended this sacred aria to me, and I'm very glad he did. So though I might not have anything worthwhile or insightful to say about it, it's definitely worth a listen.

This recording of "Priveghiati si va rugati" by composer Gheorghe Popescu of course includes the internationally acclaimed Romanian soprano, Angela Gheorghui, singing alongside The Romanian National Chamber Choir. It seems to me that something magical happens when people sing material from their homeland. Angela and her counterparts seem to have such a strong passion and affinity with this music, which is perfectly conveyed to the listener. Of course this is aided by the fact that they are perfectly comfortable in the language, and can focus entirely on its sacred meaning.

The new orchestral introduction, written for this recording, is an odd choice, (as it seems it would have worked just as well as a purely choral piece, as it always has been) however, it's works as a perfect introduction to the peaceful Romanian National Chamber Choir. The choir's sweet, effervescent sound is the perfect contrast to Gheorghui's slightly darker tone. She sounds like an Angel, coming to declare some Divine advice, as she somehow powerfully caresses her first line; 'Priveghiati si va rugati', or 'Watch and Pray'. The two vocal elements blend beautifully, with a superb bass pedal being held almost constantly to create a wonderfully ancient and holy sound.

Listen carefully and close your eyes. I was transported directly to somewhere that looked a little something like this:

I was taken to a specific building, half way across the globe with this stunning music. The power of the voice endlessly fascinates me.

Tomorrow: Either something from La Donna del Lago or Elisabetta, regina d'Inghilterra...haven't quite decided :)

"Ubi Caritas"

So carrying on with the slightly holy/choral theme that I've seemed to establish, I stumbled across what is apparently a very famous setting of 'Ubi Caritas' by Maurice Duruflé - but I know little/nothing about this type of music so it's all news to me!

What first hit be about this was the complete lack of sopranos. Now don't worry, I'm not some sort of diva who refuses to sing anything where we are not the 100% focus, infact many a time I've wished I was a mezzo. So though the sopranos may only have 14 measures in the entirety of this motet, I love the gentleness and warmth that it creates; omitting the sometimes, admittedly, overbearing upper line. I'm also a fan of closer harmony, which the low alto and doubled tenor part creates. But that's just me :) It's clever as well, how the sopranos come in for the 'exultation', stepping it up a level, and making a really obvious contrast - therefore conveying the meaning, even if you don't know what the text means.

However, the piece took on a new level for me when I looked up the meaning of the words. The message so simple, but so effectively put across. The first gentle passage, 'where charity and love are, God is there' and 'may we love each other with a sincere heart' surely just sum up what it's all about. Unfortunately the poet is unknown, but many believe it was written shortly after the first millennium. It thrills me that stuff that truly ancient can still be appreciated.

I can't believe this was composed in 1960. Duruflé was clearly captivated by the ancient history of this text, and used the original Gregorian melody (the picture at the top shows it!) that was composed somewhere between the fourth and tenth centuries. What's a few hundred years between friends eh?! I believe that thanks to this inspiration, the piece just oozes simplistic calm. The melody moves in steps as you'd expect, with few surprises - but still manages to be innovative and fascinating with the odd melisma. That fantastic melisma in the alto part to prepare the final cadence left me with goosebumps.

The great thing I feel about this is - every part of it expresses what it's trying to express. The melody, the text, the structure; the simplicity, calm and warmth of this musical expression surely mirrors what the liturgy is about in the first place. Divine love.

Tomorrow: Some Giordano performed by Renée Fleming

"Cantique de Jean Racine"

I can't wait to sing this. Suggested as the 'big push' for our rapidly improving (and growing) school choir, Fauré's "Cantique de Jean Racine" could be brilliant. If we pull if off of course...

I laughed at my pitiful attempts in harmony class upon hearing this fantastic choral piece. The rich harmonies of "Cantique de Jean Racine" just scream 'DO ME JUSTICE AND GET AN OBSCENELY LARGE CHOIR TO SING ME'. My initial laughter was then quickly replaced by utter disbelief when I learnt that Mr. Gabriel Fauré was a mere 2 years older than myself (19) when he composed this whilst at the École Niedermeyer. That, to me, is simultaneously amazing and soul destroying...

Fauré influenced the teaching of harmony so strongly during 20th Century; and this is just a lesson in how to do it. But the great thing about it is that no chord seems fashioned - everything seems to come from the composers heart. Anyone can put pen to paper to a certain extent, but I fully believe that composers are born to be composers.

[Just want to put in a quick note on the text, courtesy of Jean Racine himself, before we get onto the hardcore stuff. The text of course is wonderful; and as a French student I am particularly happy to see 'nous rompons' in there - as perhaps the best sounding of all French verbs :)]

Firstly, if I was a man, I'd be a Bass. There's nothing better, or more manly, than a good bass in choir. It doesn't even have to be a good bass...any bass will do! So I was delighted when I heard the manly solo entrance to this piece; imitatively working upwards until the soaring sopranos come in. Though despite the fact that every choir member was involved, the gentle dynamics made it just encapsulate 'peace'. Peace :) that's what was the overwhelming feeling of this.

For me, this is like a wave, moving in and out with dynamic change and phrase structure. Just when you think that gentle piano is here to stay, it swells with fabulously built up crescendo; and Fauré does this build up so eloquently. The alto/tenor/bass lines remind me of the strength and grace of a cello (the best instrument on Gods earth) as they glide over crotches underneath the soprano's held dotted minim; this just pulling the listener towards the soaring release on 'divin sauver' (the video clip has the music so you can see what the hell I'm going on about!).

The structure sounds a bit like ABA, and before returning to the beautiful first melody, Fauré makes a bigger scale wave; section B being a stronger force than soft section A. The texture changes slightly here too...it's never completely homorythmic - but the rich harmonies are brought out more as they move at pretty much the same time. Imitative entrances and a key change put me on edge a bit, before coming back to section A, which was like slipping into a lovely warm bath (with candles!).

Urgh I've changed that last paragraph at least 8 times...it was horrific; I imagine reading version 1 would have been like wading through very boring, slightly scientific, not very interesting treacle...whatever that's like. I apologise :)

I just love this. It's beautiful. The end :)

As an added note; Handel's Messiah arrived in the post this morning...all 256 pages...lets get learning :)

Tomorrow: A beautiful setting of 'Ubi Caritas'