RECORDINGS OF THE MONTH
Sergei RACHMANINOV (1873-1943)
All-night Vigil, Op. 37 (1915) [51:44]
The Theotokos, Ever-Vigilant in Prayer (1893) [7:52]
Gert-Jan Alders (bass); Matthew Minter, Eyjólfur Eyjólfsson (tenors); Pierrette
de Zwaan (alto)
Netherlands Radio Choir/Kaspars Putniņ
rec. October/November 2012, Studio MCO5, Hilversum, the Netherlands
Reviewed as a 24/96 download from eClassical
Pdf booklet includes sung texts (Cyrillic and English)
BIS-2039 SACD [60:20]
Sergei RACHMANINOV (1873-1943)
All-night Vigil, Op. 37 (1915)
Bryan Taylor, Paul Davidson, Toby Vaughn Kidd, Joseph Warner (basses); Frank
Fleschner, Bryan Pinkall (tenors); Julia Scozzafava (mezzo)
Phoenix Chorale; Kansas City Chorale/Charles Bruffy
rec. 2014, Cathedral of St Peter the Apostle, Kansas City, Kansas, USA
Reviewed as a 24/96 download from eClassical
Pdf booklet includes sung texts (Cyrillic and English)
CHANDOS CHSA5148 SACD [75:34]
There are times when I think we are living in a golden age
of a cappella singing, both secular and sacred. A number of first-rate
recordings come to mind: from Norway, Immortal
Nystedt; from Denmark, music by Pelle
Gudmundsen-Holmgreen; from Latvia, Peteris Vasks’ Plainscapes;
from Russia, Valentin Silvestrov’s Sacred
Songs; and from the USA Alexander Grechaninov’s Passion
Week and Conspirare’s The
Sacred Spirit of Russia. What really impresses me about
those American choirs is that they sound so idiomatic that it’s hard
to believe they’re not native Russians.
I must single out the Phoenix and Kansas singers in the Grechaninov; indeed,
that was one of my Recordings of the Year in 2007. At the time of
writing – February 2016 – those forces, led by the indefatigable
Charles Bruffy, had just been awarded a Grammy for their recording of Rachmaninov’s
All-night Vigil. Somehow I’d missed that one, so I decided
to assess it in tandem with this new version from Kaspars Putniņ and
the Netherlands Radio Choir. I was pleased to note that the latter is produced
and engineered by Jens Braun, whose recent recordings for BIS are among the
best in the business. The Chandos release was recorded by
SoundMirror, the company behind Manfred Honeck's Pittsburgh successes and,
most recently, Thierry Fischer's Mahler 1 from Utah.
Rachmaninov’s All-night Vigil - sometimes erroneously referred
to as his Vespers – is in fact a hybrid of three Russian Orthodox
services; Vespers (movements 1 to 6), Matins (7 to 14) and First Hour (15).
There have been a number of well-regarded recordings of the piece in recent
years, two of which spring to mind: the first is from Sigvards
Klava and the Latvian Radio Choir, the second from Paul
Hillier and the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir. Those are fine Baltic
ensembles, expertly led, and their collections are always worth your time
and money. Besides, they tend to get top-notch recordings, too.
The Netherlands Radio Choir, founded after the Second World War, is a 68-strong
group with a number of world premičres to their name. That makes them a good
fit with Kaspars Putniņ, chief conductor of the Estonian Philharmonic
Chamber Choir, who is a tireless promoter of contemporary choral works. That
said, his repertoire is wide-ranging, so Rachmaninov is well within his artistic
purview. Incidentally, this recording includes a filler, The Theotokos,
Ever-Vigilant in Prayer, which Rachmaninov composed in 1893. A precursor
to the Vigil in style it burns with a quick, fierce flame. An intriguing
little bonus.
First impressions of Putniņ’ Vigil are entirely positive.
The bass and tenor soloists – Gert-Jan Alders and Matthew Minter respectively
– are ideally spaced at the start of O come let us worship,
and the choir’s response is both refined and radiant. The alto Pierrette
de Zwaan – who appears in Praise the Lord, O my soul –
is just as ravishing, the choral cadences gentle but telling. Goodness, this
is singing of the highest order; weight and blend are well nigh perfect, as
is the open, airy sound. This may be a studio recording, but there’s
breadth and depth aplenty, with no obscuring echoes. Indeed, the ‘goose-bump
quotient’ is very high, even at this early stage.
There’s an ear-pricking contrast between the men and women in Blessed
is the man – what a lovely, heartfelt dialogue – and the
ever-sensitive Putniņ grades and shades the music with seamless skill.
The fibrillations of O gladsome Light are a joy to hear, and tenor
Eyjólfur Eyjólfsson's voice rises like swirls of incense both here and in
the Nunc dimittis. Also, choral climaxes are superbly focused, with
no hint of grit or glare. Vespers comes to a close with the now joyous, now
calming, O Virgin Mother of God, rejoice!
That is going to be a tough act to follow. At the start Bruffy’s bass
and tenor are clearly in a larger acoustic, and although his choirs are fewer
in number – 56 – the rounder, fuller sound they produce makes
them seem more plentiful. The sheer projection and weight of these singers
comes as something of a shock after the comparative restraint and lightness
of Putniņ’ team. SoundMirror's wonderfully sonorous recording
reinforces that impression. As for Bruffy’s mezzo, Julia Scozzafava,
she's not quite as striking as de Zwaan in Praise the Lord, O my soul;
the latter sings with a touch more character and conviction here.
Minor caveats aside, this is a splendid account of Rachmaninov's masterpiece.
In particular, I was pleased to be reacquainted with the warmth and gravitas
that so thrilled and moved me in Passion Week; Putniņ’
singers can’t match that, but then their performance has a cooler, loftier
aspect that’s just as compelling. More controversial is Bruffy’s
very expansive reading. He clocks in at a whopping 75:34; compare that with
Klava (62:31), Hillier (53:56) and Putniņ (51:44). That’s quite
a disparity, but as with Klemperer and Celibidache in Mahler’s and Bruckner’s
Seventh respectively Bruffy’s Vigil defies logic and the clock
and emerges as something rather special.
At this stage I’d say these two recordings are complementary, and that
both are well worth hearing. However, there’s something extra in the
Dutch performance – a palpable, all-encompassing humility, perhaps –
that resonates with me in a way that the American one doesn’t. It helps
that the BIS recording is so natural; with it comes a thrilling intimacy that's
harder to achieve in a larger-than-life presentation such as SoundMirror's.
Indeed, listening to these two releases, cheek by jowl as it were, is a startling
reminder of just how much engineering and venue choices affect one’s
perceptions of a given performance.
Matins begins with Glory be to God on high, a short and deceptively
gentle hymn whose contours are so lovingly mapped by Putniņ and his
choir. Praise ye the name of the Lord is rather more fervent; there,
too, you’ll hear singing of remarkable range and power. Yes, musical
shape and blend do matter, but it’s the singers’ degree of engagement
with the texts that separates a good performance from a great one. Just listen
to Blessed art thou, O Lord, which the Dutch deliver with
overwhelming intensity. Once again, the smaller scale of this recording encourages
a sense of connection that, in turn, makes for a very profound and personal
musical experience. And what telling interplay, what unanimity, they bring
to Having beheld the Resurrection.
It’s easy to see why Rachmaninov requested that the Nunc dimittis
be played at his funeral, for it's one of the most luminous things he
ever wrote. That said, the Magnificat is rather lovely too. Putniņ’
control of the music's ebb and surge is masterly; ditto his deft way with
the rhythms of Glory be to God on high and O queen victorious.
Everything about this performance is judicious and perfectly proportioned,
and that includes the recording. In other circumstances such an approach may
seem tentative - anodyne, even - but not here. In fact, it all feels so intuitive,
so right, that it’s difficult to imagine the Vigil
being sung or recorded in any other way.
Of course that’s not true, for this piece yields to a variety of interpretations.
As before, switching back to Bruffy requires some readjustment. Suddenly we
are confronted with a rich, rubied choral sound; not only that, Bruffy's more
leisurely pace reveals the score's inner workings in a way that you won’t
hear with the tighter, more compact Putniņ. For that we must be grateful,
but the slight downside is that I was much more conscious of the American
performance than I was of the Dutch one. In general, Bruffy's approach
strikes me as more public, more overtly ceremonial, whereas Putniņ'
is more private and personal. In that sense the latter's performance reminds
me of a very fine Glagolitic Mass I reviewed
last year; there, too, greater inwardness brings unexpected rewards.
One could argue that the Americans come closer to what one might expect to
hear from a Russian choir – those soul-stirring basses, for example
– and the cathedral acoustic adds an aura to the sound that you simply
can’t mimic in a studio. Ultimately, though, Bruffy’s Vigil
– glorious in so many ways – does feel a tad protracted towards
the end. Also, his soloists just aren’t as memorable as Putniņ’.
Having just written that, and still listening, the frisson generated
by those dark, resonant voices in Glory be to God on high left me
in sudden disarray. Really, in the presence of such splendour any cavils seem
utterly redundant.
I'm pleased to report that the highest production values
prevail in both these releases. That goes for the liner-notes as well; Bruffy's
are by Vladimir Morosan, whose scholarly insights made The Sacred Spirit
of Russia such a rewarding experience, Putniņ’ by Andrew
Huth. Sung texts and translations are supplied (Cyrillic and English).
The Dutch bring emotional intensity to the Vigil, the Americans weight
and beauty; you must hear both.
Dan Morgan
twitter.com/mahlerei
Previous reviews (Chandos): John
Quinn and Nick
Barnard
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