I’ve become increasingly aware of a problem – but a very pleasant
one - as I’ve listened over the last couple of months to the three
Gimell collections that celebrate three decades of recordings
by The Tallis Scholars. The problem is: how does one, over a fairly
short space of time, find a sufficient variety of expression to
describe such an amazingly consistent sequence of high-quality
performances? Those who have read my reviews of
Volume
1 and Volume 2 in this series may appreciate my difficulty.
Anyone who has invested in either of the two previous volumes
will know exactly what to expect – and is unlikely to need my
encouragement to acquire this third and final set.
Disc One
First we hear a short motet,
Si bona suscepimus, by the
little-known French composer, Philippe Verdelot. He is a neglected
figure but this five-part motet is a lovely piece and it’s done
wonderfully well here.
It may seem strange to devote so much of this set to eight settings
of the same text by one composer. However, once the decision had
been taken to include Nicolas Gombert’s Magnificat settings there
was probably little option but to go for broke and present the
full complement. Their inclusion is fully justified on account
of the quality of the music itself but I’m sure the reason that
all eight have been included is that, as Peter Phillips observes
in his notes, these “form an anthology of everything [Gombert]
was capable of.” So to break them up and offer, say, just a couple
here, would militate against the integrity of the original project
to record the complete set. And as Steve Smith made clear when
I
interviewed
him and Peter Phillips earlier this year, it was never the intention
merely to present a “Best of The Tallis Scholars” collection.
These Gombert Magnificat settings were released in two volumes
in 2001 and 2002. I remember
reviewing
the second volume very enthusiastically. My colleague John Phillips
reviewed
the first volume and was equally complimentary but I’m ashamed
to say that disc eluded me at the time so I’m very glad to be
able to hear the whole array now. For detailed comments I’d refer
readers to the earlier reviews.
For the original release each Magnificat was accompanied by a
plainchant antiphon, each proper to a particular feast. Those
antiphons are omitted here. I regret that slightly but it was
an inevitable, pragmatic decision because to include them would
have added well over twenty minutes of music and something had
to give. No one should think that just because these settings
are all of the same text and by the same composer they are lacking
in variety. On the contrary, while Gombert follows the same
alternatim
approach each time the polyphonic passages are endlessly varied
– and frequently quite dramatic. There’s also variety in the number
of voice parts employed. These pieces are resourceful and full
of interest and the strongly projected performances are splendid.
Disc Two
The Gombert pieces spill over onto this disc but the majority
of the space here is allotted to the Englishman, John Browne.
In this collection we have the entire contents of The Tallis Scholars’
2005 disc devoted to Browne’s music. I see that John France opened
his
review
with the words “This CD is one of those few productions that leave
me speechless”. He was referring to the quality of both the music
and of the performances and I can understand why he was so impressed.
In some ways it seems to me that Browne stands at the gate between
late medieval music and the full flowering of Renaissance polyphony
in England. Thus there are times when the textures of his music
are lean and spare; then, almost without warning, the music expands
into rich polyphony.
All these pieces are taken from the Eton Choir Book and each,
in its different way, is remarkable.
Salve Regina I,
for example, features the long, winding melodic lines that are
such a feature of Browne’s music. The lines appear to go on forever;
indeed, in this performance it seems as if the first paragraph
goes on without interruption until 4:39. The scoring of that piece
is relatively modest; it’s only in five parts (TrMATB). The remainder
are much more luxuriantly laid out. The most remarkable in terms
of scoring and colour is
Stabat iuxta. The six parts (TTTTBB)
encompass a fairly narrow vocal range – less than two octaves,
I believe – and the colouring of Browne’s music is rather dark
in hue. In fact when all the parts are engaged the textures are
somewhat dense. I don’t mean that as a criticism either of the
composer or of the performers, who project the music powerfully.
By contrast the magisterial
O Maria salvatoris lays more
emphasis on high voices (TrMAATTBB). The opening is truly arresting,
consisting of an extended, richly scored phrase sung by the full
choir. This music is quite thrilling but almost immediately we
find that Browne has pared his forces down just to two intertwining
lines. This contrast of texture is one of the features that make
Browne’s writing so fascinating. The whole piece is a tremendous
achievement but, then, so are its four companions in this collection.
One is left admiring the skill of men like Browne who could compose
such elaborate music. And one admires in equal measure the skill
of these twenty-first century performers who bring it all so vividly
to life.
Disc Three
Much of the music on this disc takes us back to the start of the
Gimell story: the Palestrina Mass and Allegri’s
Miserere
were included on the very first Gimell disc – though it was then
issued by Classics for Pleasure. Those early recordings are still
performances to be reckoned with (
review)
and the 1980 recording of the Allegri took its rightful place
in Volume I of this 30
th anniversary retrospective.
So why duplicate the work in Volume III? Well, what we have here
might be described as the same, but different. Based on their
experience of performing the
Miserere some 350 times Peter
Phillips and his team have rethought their approach to it in two
significant ways. The first concerns the plainchant sections.
In the original recording – and, I think, in every performance
I’ve ever heard of the work down the years – these sections were
sung to Tone 2 and usually, as in the Tallis Scholars’ 1980 recording,
by a small group of men. Phillips tells us that over time he and
his colleagues noticed that the higher of Allegri’s two soprano
parts mimics Tonus Pelegrinus and so on this recording we hear
the chant sections sung by a single cantor – Andrew Carwood, no
less – who sings the words to Tonus Pelegrinus.
The second change is that soprano Deborah Roberts, who sings the
top line in the distant semi-chorus has, over the years, embellished
the part, top Cs and all, and this recording preserves her improvisatory
decorations – or perhaps I should say the embellishments she delivered
on that day, since by definition there’s an element of spontaneity
about what she does. Very helpfully, the notations for each of
the five embellishments are printed in the booklet. Thus this
recorded performance is full of interest and, naturally, the singing
is superb. I must say, however, that I retain a very marginal
preference for the recorded sound on the old 1980 recording. The
latest version, issued in 2007, is a fine achievement technically
but on my equipment at least there seems to be just a touch more
space round the voices of the main choir and I rather like that.
Admirers of The Tallis Scholars will certainly welcome this newer
recording if they don’t already own it but the 1980 version is
by no means displaced.
The Palestrina Mass occupies an important place in the history
of The Tallis Scholars. It featured on the aforementioned first
Gimell disc and it was also part of the programme with which Peter
Phillips and his singers celebrated the 400
th anniversary
of the composer’s death with performances in the Sistine Chapel
and in the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore in 1994 (
review).
The present performance is a later one, issued in 2007, and, like
the 1980 recording, it was made in Merton College Chapel. It’s
quite outstanding. There’s an abundance of grace and purity in
this music and The Tallis Scholars bring out all of it in a performance
of consummate skill. I nearly wrote “effortless” but that would
be unfair. Peter Phillips writes in his notes that “in [Palestrina’s]
music there is no hiding place. The sonorities are so clear, the
logic of the writing so compelling, that one sound out of place
is immediately detectable.” To be able to produce a performance
of this wonderful mass setting of such high quality as this present
one bespeaks a tremendous amount of preparation and concentration
by all concerned. Everything here is beautifully proportioned
and balanced. This is a reading born out of long association and
familiarity with the music yet it all sounds so
fresh.
The serene ‘Sanctus’ and the jubilant ‘pleni sunt caeli’, epitomise
the refinement of both the music and the recorded performance.
Disc Four
It’s fitting that this whole three-volume survey concludes with
a pair of Masses by Josquin. After all, it was with a Josquin
disc that The Tallis Scholars carried off the
Gramophone’s
Record of the Year in 1987 [CDGIM 009]. That was the first time
that an Early Music recording had won that award and it remained
the only time that such a recording had won this coveted prize
until this year when Andrew Carwood and The Cardinall’s Musick
repeated the feat. And now The Tallis Scholars are engaged on
a project to record all Josquin’s masses. The pair included here
are among their most recent offerings and the music and performances
are described in detail in the reviews by
Brian
Wilson and
Mark
Sealey. I’ll content myself with saying that both of these
recordings are in the finest traditions of the Gimell house. Josquin’s
often intricate and closely argued polyphony is delivered with
an exemplary clarity – sample, for instance, the Credo of
Missa
Fortuna desperate. These two recordings confirm that Phillips
and The Tallis Scholars continue to be powerful and effective
advocates for Josquin’s music.
As I hope I’ve made clear, the third volume in this celebratory
series is as fine as its predecessors. There’s an abundance of
magnificent music to be heard in the five hours or so that it
will take you to play these CDs. As to the performances, well,
the excellence is so consistent that one almost takes it for granted.
But the scrupulous scholarship that lies behind all these recordings,
as well as the hours of painstaking preparation, is cause not
only for admiration but also for celebration.
In common with the other two sets the documentation accompanying
these discs is of the highest quality. The booklets are beautifully
illustrated and Peter Phillips provides extensive and highly readable
notes that mingle scholarship and enthusiasm in equal measure.
I think it’s worth quoting the concluding paragraph from his introductory
essay that’s common to all three sets:
“
The advantage of being a commercially successful independent
company is that we can afford to spend time and money on stalking
the kind of perfection that makes this music come alive today.
The aesthetic thrill of finding it, when one does, can be very
special indeed. Such a reward is very different from the adrenalin
of conducting a concert; but in 50 discs (and 30 years making
them) I have never tired of the search. And there is more to come.”
I’d say that the twelve CDs contained in this survey – including
those in the present volume – demonstrate triumphantly how often
Phillips has successfully stalked his quarry of perfection over
the years. This has been a wonderful celebration of thirty years
of dedicated and highly skilled recording and the many admirers
of The Tallis Scholars will note with pleasure Peter Phillips’
final comment: “
there is more to come”. Happy thirtieth
birthday, Gimell. Here’s to the next decade!
John Quinn
The Tallis Scholars/Peter Phillips 
