Bach: Christmas Oratorio.
Mary Bevan and Joanne Lunn, sopranos; Clare Wilkinson and Ciara Hendrick,
mezzo-sopranos; Nicholas Mulroy and Thomas Hobbs, tenors; Matthew Brook and
Konstantin Wolff, bass-baritones; Dunedin Consort conducted by John Butt. Linn
Records. $29.99 (2 CDs).
James Whitbourn: Carolae—Music
for Christmas. Eric Rieger, tenor; Daryl Robinson, organ; Westminster
Williamson Voices conducted by James Jordan. Naxos. $12.99.
John Rutter: Visions (2016); Requiem
(1985). Temple Church Boys’ Choir, Cambridge Singers and Aurora Orchestra
conducted by John Rutter. Collegium. $16.99.
A Great Distance: A Collection of
Chinese and American Art Song. Juliet Petrus, soprano; Lydia Qiu, piano.
MSR Classics. $12.95.
Thomas Osborne: Like Still Water;
Dreams of Sky and Sea; And the Waves Sing Because They Are Moving; Songs of a
Thousand Autumns. Tracy Satterfield, soprano; members of Aperio. MSR
Classics. $12.95.
Genuine masterpieces that
are associated with specific holidays are few and far between. Two that are
preeminent are Handel’s Messiah for
Easter and Bach’s Christmas Oratorio.
The result is that these works tend to be over-represented by recordings, and
it is easy to wonder whether yet another version of either of them could
possibly be worthwhile. On a new Linn Records release, it takes about 30
seconds for John Butt and the Dunedin Consort to answer that query with a
resounding “yes” where Bach’s work is concerned. The opening chorus, Jauchzet, frohlocket,
is sit-up-and-take-notice bright and brilliant, so involving and appealing that
it practically pulls listeners to the edge of their seats in anticipation of
what is to come. It is hard to imagine a better start of the Christmas Oratorio
than this one. And the passion and intensity never flag through the six
cantatas that make up this work. Butt does an especially wonderful job of
highlighting the distinctions among the six, which Bach orchestrates very
carefully to evoke specific aspects of the Christmas story. The brilliance of
sound dominates Part 1. Part 2 maintains a rural focus, befitting the story of
the shepherds abiding in their fields, with extensive use of oboes and flutes.
Part 3 has an inward sound, emphasized by the solo violin in the second aria,
and is concerned with contemplation and humility. The dance-like opening and
closing music of Part 4 transports listeners to a more elegant venue, with a
wonderful second aria in which Bach uses tenor, two violins and continuo to
proclaim the strength drawn from meditating on Jesus’ name. Part 5 is all about
the star that leads the wise men, and the lifting of spirits that the celestial
display portends. And Part 6, which again offers brilliance along the line of
Part 1, does so in connection with the sure victory of Jesus and his followers
over the forces of darkness. Soloists and chorus alike are ideally suited for
their roles in this splendid reading of the score, and the instrumental playing
is exceptional. Butt has studied Bach’s performance practices extensively, and
puts that knowledge to superb use both in the solo passages and in the
choruses. This is an unusual recording because it has, on the one hand,
excellent intellectual underpinnings, and on the other, so much visceral
attraction through the quality of the performance that the work seems to unfold
naturally and in the only way it possibly can. The many other recordings of the
Christmas Oratorio
show this not to be the case, of course, and indeed, numerous excellent
versions of this music are available. But this one is transcendent, in the
sense that it encapsulates the meaning of Christmas as Bach saw it and at the
same time goes well beyond the season to speak to listeners at any time of
year. Butt makes it clear in his booklet notes that he does not see the
performance as “definitive” and doubts that any single reading can be, saying
that this recording “is definitely not meant to provide the model for all
possible performances of this work.” That is a suitably modest comment, but one
that belies the many excellences here: this may not be a definitive reading,
but it is one to which there are ample reasons to turn again and again for
enjoyment inextricably woven with enlightenment.
The intentions and music are
far more modest on a new Naxos CD of Christmas music, mostly by James Whitbourn
(born 1963). This is a strictly seasonal item, and one that features a
smattering of world première
recordings: Veni et
illumina (2015), The Magi’s Dream
(2011), and A great
and mighty wonder (2002). And it concludes, rather
interestingly, with a work that is not by Whitbourn but by Garth Edmundson
(1892-1971): Toccata
on Von Himmel Hoch from 1937, which caps the
material quite effectively. As for the mostly short individual items here, they
all communicate their messages in the straightforward manner for which
Whitbourn is known, although it is a trifle odd that the Missa Carolae
of 2004 is here split into three parts, with other works inserted among them. And
it is a trifle jarring to hear the mass’s concluding Agnus Dei
followed by a 2003 Steve Pilkington arrangement of the Coventry Carol. Also
here is Pilkington’s 1994 arrangement of I Wonder as I Wander.
The performances are uniformly fine of the music by Whitbourn and others: the
Westminster Williamson Voices are clear, enunciate well, and sing with suitable
understanding and reverence. This is a (+++) CD in part because of its strictly
limited appeal and in part because the arrangement of the material is on the
odd side – one interruption of Missa Carolae,
for example, comes from Winter’s
Wait, Whitbourn’s 2010 setting of Robert Tear’s poem, which sounds strange
coming after the Gloria
and before the Sanctus.
Another major contemporary
British composer of accessible and well-crafted vocal music, John Rutter (born
1945), comes across more effectively on a new (++++) Collegium CD that
represents the Cambridge Singers’ second recording of Rutter’s Requiem as well as the first
recording of a major new work, Visions.
These are pieces of significant religious expression, but they are not limited
to the Christmas season and are not, for that matter, entirely created using
standard Christian texts. Rutter did something rather bold with his Requiem, mixing parts of the
traditional Latin words with several English-language psalms. Thus, the Kyrie is succeeded by a
movement based on Psalm 130, and Agnus
Dei does not conclude the work – it is followed by Psalm 23 and then by Lux aeterna.
Rutter does some things here in accordance with tradition, for example by orchestrating
the Sanctus
brightly and using bells and timpani to good effect. He does other things in a
less-expected way, such as writing a cello solo for the movement based on Psalm
130. Rutter’s work is sometimes deemed a bit too accessible, and it
certainly shows influences of pop music in its rather saccharine emotional
expression and its easy-to-sing-and-hear harmonies. But his Requiem is quite effective in
its mixing of traditional and added elements, and it gets a very fine, well-blended
and well-balanced reading here. As for Visions, this is a four-movement work for
solo violin, harp, string orchestra and treble voices. Its focus is Jerusalem –
not the divided and highly controversial city of today, except by implication,
but the Jerusalem that the biblical prophets referred to again and again as the
Holy City. Kerson Leong, the solo violinist
here, is the performer for whom this part was written, and he does a fine
job with it. And the movements are expressive of what is essentially a utopian
ideal of heavenly peace on Earth – a suitable Christmastime message, to be
sure, but not a specifically seasonal one, being the sort of unrealistic but
hoped-for wish that is suitable at any time, in any season.
The vocal material on a (+++)
MSR Classics CD has some intriguing elements even though it is of lesser
consequence. A Great
Distance is a “concept” release, designed
to explore the mutual influence of Western and Chinese cultures on each other’s
art songs. This is a bit of an abstruse concept, and while Juliet Petrus sings
the works here sensitively and with subtlety of intonation and expression – and
is well backed up by pianist Lydia Qiu – the musical material itself is less
than compelling. Three Chinese folk songs, heard at the end of the CD, are
especially pleasant in their forthright simplicity. And the Four Chinese Love Lyrics
by John Duke that precede the folk songs are the best example of
cross-pollination to be heard here. The remaining material is intermittently
interesting without ever be musically compelling enough to encourage listeners
to hear this recording as more than an attempt to make what is foundationally
an academic argument regarding mutual musical influences. In addition to Duke,
the composers heard here are Huang Zi, Xiao Youmei, Qing Zhu, John Alden
Carpenter, Ding Shande, and Luo Maishuo. The China-originating material retains
thematic elements common in Chinese poetry, and sometimes (but not always) is
presented musically using Chinese musical sounds, or at least ones that are
exotic by Western standards. The American material makes an effort to sound
“Chinese-y” through text choice and certain musical elements. All this shows
that Chinese and American composers alike are interested in exploring some new
forms of expression and are willing to reach beyond the typical confines of
Western and Oriental art songs, respectively, to do so. This is good to know,
but it is something less than revelatory; the CD is pleasantly off the beaten
track for listeners looking for something a bit new and different in the
art-song realm.
Vocal elements
are only part of another (+++) MSR Classics release, this one featuring world
première recordings of four
works by Thomas Osborne (born 1978). This music too has an Oriental connection:
the longest work here, Songs of a Thousand Autumns for soprano,
violin, viola, cello and piano, written in 2006, uses 13 texts by Korean poets Ono
no Komachi and Sei Shonagon; and Dreams
of Sky and Sea for soprano, percussion and piano, written in 2012, uses
Japanese texts by Kim Sowol. Water metaphors are common in both works: “I know
nothing about villages where fisherfolk dwell” and “Since my heart placed me on
board your drifting ship” in the former, for example, and “The Sea” and “Red
Tide” in the latter. Osborne’s style is one of fairly straightforward modernity
– it is not so much undistinguished as it is un-distinctive. He handles the
rhythms of the poetry successfully in an essentially atonal but not strongly
dissonant mode, but the accompaniment adds little to the words, which are
evocative enough in themselves. The CD also includes two water-themed non-vocal
works: Like Still Water (2004) for
percussion and piano, and And the Waves
Sing Because They Are Moving (also 2004) for piano solo. As the titles
show, these pieces too have poetic inspiration, even though they do not contain
sung poetry. Here too, however, the titles lead listeners to expect a level of
impressionism that is not forthcoming. The music seems to reflect Osborne’s
highly personal feelings about water and what lies over a distant horizon that
can barely be glimpsed far beyond a liquid expanse. The communicative nature of
the material, though, is not sufficiently precise to indicate what Osborne
sees, or thinks he sees; nor is it involving enough to encourage listeners to
come up with their own aquatic impressions. The performers, from a
contemporary-music ensemble called Aperio, approach the material with skill and
understanding, and soprano Tracy Satterfield emotes well in the two vocal
works. But the CD seems an undertaking most likely to appeal to those who
already know Osborne’s music rather than to anyone outside his inner circle.
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