The composer is probably sick to death of reviews of his music
always beginning with references to his career as a boy chorister
when he sang in the famous David Willcocks recording of Fauré’s
Requiem. Indeed this is mentioned on the first page
of the booklet notes to this release. This might perhaps
explain why he has changed his name from Robert Chilcott to
plain Bob Chilcott which is the name employed throughout the
material supplied with this disc of his choral music from the
two-year period between 2009 and 2010. He was certainly “Robert
Chilcott” when he wrote Even such is time in 1993.
Here Chilcott writes a Requiem of his own – but the
shade of Fauré remains with him, as well as a hint of a theme
from Karl Jenkins’s Armed Man (at 2:47 and again later)
in the opening movement.* There are two soloists who blend perfectly
into the texture. There is no grandstanding or dramatic posturing
here, but although Chilcott avoids any setting of the Dies
irae with its pictures of the Day of Judgement, the passage
in the Offertorio where the mouth of the lion reaches
out to claim the sinners cast into Tartarus ruffles the surface
of the music with ominous rumblings in the organ and timpani
building to some anguished writing for choir. This is then followed
by a quiet and very beautiful meditation led by the solo male
soloist. This is deeply felt music, and is followed by a setting
of the Pie Jesu for solo soprano. Parallels with the
Fauré setting are again obvious, but the soprano is here joined
by the chorus and the treatment of the words is much more sensuous.
Even the sprightly Sanctus with its jubilant Hosanna
in excelsis gives way to a more contemplative tone in the
Benedictus. In the Agnus Dei the solo tenor
muses over a quiet background of organ and chorus. After this
the composer introduces a setting in English of Thou knowest,
Lord. This brings the most emotionally felt and impassioned
music in the work, and the composer responds with immediacy
to a text that he loves - as he states in the booklet note.
The final Lux aeterna takes the Karl Jenkins-like theme
(*) from the opening movement and expands it an emotional way
that leaves Jenkins far behind. There is no In paradisum
to bring the work to a spiritual conclusion; instead the boy
trebles of the Wells Cathedral choir meditate on the words of
the opening Requiem aeternam. This is a very beautiful
work which, despite the occasional influences of other composers,
is well capable of making an impression in its own right. Unlike
some of the work of John Rutter - which in some ways it also
resembles - it never shows any signs of becoming trite or trivial.
The four Salisbury motets are more withdrawn pieces,
with accompaniment by organ only. The opening setting of I
sing of a maiden comes into competition not only with the
setting by Britten in A ceremony of carols but also
with that by Francis Pott from nine years earlier which I reviewed
recently on a Naxos release. Chilcott treats the poem even more
contemplatively than Pott, taking his cue from the words He
came all so still which Britten altogether ignores. When
to the Temple Mary went sets a rather sentimental poem
by John Troutbeck (1832-99) which incorporates a rhymed paraphrase
of the opening words of the Nunc dimittis. Here Chilcott
dispenses with the organ altogether and lends the well-known
text an intensity which Troutbeck’s rhymes lack. The choir sounds
slightly strained in the forte upper passages, but
subside into gently impressionist textures at the words “May
we gently fall asleep and with thee wake.” The setting of Lovely
tear of lovely eye adds a tubular bell towards the end
- played rather reticently by Alfie Johnson, the leading boy
chorister from the Wells choir - to the organ accompaniment
and the melody of the recurring refrain is beautifully treated.
The final Hail, star of the sea most radiant is more
outgoing. We are informed in the booklet note that the original
performance of these motets was given in Salisbury Cathedral
by more than 500 choristers, and one can imagine that the fortissimo
outbursts were positively thrilling; given by the much smaller
forces (34 singers) of Wells Cathedral they can sound rather
under-powered no matter how polished the choir’s performance.
The Downing Service gives us settings of the Magnificat
and the Nunc dimittis which are fine in themselves
but nothing special. The composer seems to be overly fascinated
with the rhythmic tricks he employs in the Magnificat,
and less with the meaning of the words themselves. The brevity
of the setting - presumably designed for liturgical use - does
not allow him time for a more involved response. The setting
of the shorter text of the Nunc dimittis is nearly
twice as long, and is much more expressive with a prominent
organ counter-melody which raises the emotional temperature
considerably. The setting of the closing doxology is much more
involving than that given to the Magnificat.
The three final items on the disc are all settings of poems
by Kevin Crossley-Holland in the form of carols; the first was
written to a text supplied by Philip Brunelle for his Minneapolis
choir, and inspired the composer to compose the other two. The
poems themselves are gems. The first carol, Pilgrim Jesus,
begins with rhythmic tricks reminiscent of John Rutter, but
develops more contrapuntally; the second, The nine gifts,
affords Chilcott the opportunity for a number of animal and
other imitations which the choir embrace with great glee. However
following the gift of the stone – “the word that is silent”
– the bar of silence which follows could have been extended
more dramatically. The final carol, Jesus, springing,
restores tranquillity and brings the disc to a superbly contemplative
ending.
With the reservations concerning the size of the choir in the
Salisbury motets, this is a superbly performed collection
of what are all first recordings. The engineers capture the
acoustic of the cathedral ideally, with a good balance between
choir and organ and the small chamber orchestra in the Requiem.
One would be happy to encounter any of this music again and
one hopes that other choirs will take some of these works up.
(*) This is not to say that it is a ‘crib’ from Karl Jenkins.
It is a version of the time-honoured phrase 1-(3)-5-6-5 which
has been used for spiritual ecstasy from time immemorial – think
of the hymn tune York used by Vaughan Williams for
the Holy City in The Pilgrim’s Progress, the German
carol In dulci jubilo, the English hymn Holy, holy,
holy Lord God almighty, and many others – but with a fall
to the fourth instead of the fifth on the final note of the
phrase, which also happens to be the configuration used by Jenkins.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
Laurie Ashworth* (soprano); Andrew Staples* (tenor);