Hummel wrote five Mass
settings between 1804 and 1808 when
he was employed as Konzertmeister (on
the ailing Haydn’s recommendation) at
the Esterházy Court. The Te Deum
is dated 1st January 1806 on the autograph
and was apparently written to mark a
Peace Treaty – conjecturally the Treaty
of Pressburg which marked the end of
the war between Napoleon’s France and
the Austro-Russian alliance following
the former’s crushing victory at Austerlitz.
There is some doubt however whether
the work was performed at Eisenstadt
at all since it doesn’t appear in the
archives. Whatever the catalyst, and
whether performed at the royal court
or not, this is a work that leaps from
the pages with really defiant and arresting
momentum. At only twelve minutes in
length it is concise and fairly straightforward
formally – though Hummel does, unusually,
reintroduce short phrases later on.
We start with an arresting little trumpet
call-to-arms motif and a Mannheim type
crescendo that prefigures much of the
constantly swelling and withdrawing
orchestral patina. Hummel laces the
score with crescendi and a palpable
sense of anticipation is always with
us. The simplicity and vibrancy of the
Sanctus vies with the flute decoration
as features of the utmost distinction.
Throughout, the orchestration is enlivening
and Hummel gives the chorus plenty of
vivacious runs as well as more plangent
material reminiscent of Haydn’s Masses;
the most impressive part is the unaccompanied
section for the chorus toward the end
of the Te Deum.
The Missa Solemnis
was finished shortly after the Te Deum
and written for a Royal Wedding between
an Esterházy and a Liechtenstein
– an alliance of considerable wealth
and power. Again, as with the companion
setting, the Missa Solemnis is a work
of considerable ingenuity and melodic
distinction, enlivened by varied and
imaginative scoring. The winding string
and wind lines and the homophonic choral
parts are quite distinctive and the
punchy brass acts as an underlying theme.
Hummel shows again here how adeptly
he vests the music, specifically the
Gloria, with a changeable sense of direction.
This gift is expanded still further
in the sense of kaleidoscopic mutation
generated in the Credo – full of the
utmost freedom and flexibility. The
soloists appear in the Sanctus where
they are joined by the solo violin of
David Armstrong and, as the notes relate,
though it’s not explicit in the score
it seems not impossible that the soloists
continued in the Benedictus – as they
do in this recording. Some of the solo
writing does sound a mite generic but
against that we can admire the consoling
harmonies of the concluding Agnus Dei
with its unexpectedly apt and inventively
vibrant fugato and its splendidly noble
Dona nobis pacem.
It’s worth noting that
these are the premiere recordings of
both works in the editions prepared
by Allan Bradley, whose notes are convincing
and eloquent. There may be a few untidy
corners in some of the solo voices but
the performances as a whole are spirited
and thoroughly engaging.
Jonathan Woolf
New Zealand Symphony Orchestra/Uwe Grodd