Masses for Double Choir
 Kenneth LEIGHTON (1929–1988) 
 Mass, Op.44 (1965) [28:58]
 Mimi Doulton (soprano), Caitlin Goreing (alto), William Hester (tenor),
    Joseph Edwards (bass)
 Frank MARTIN (1890–1974) 
 Mass for double choir (1922-26, first performance 1966) [28:37]
 Jehan ALAIN (1911–1940) 
 Postlude pour l’office de Complies
    [6:00]
 James Orford (organ)
 The Choir of King’s College London/Joseph Fort
 rec. 18-20 April 2018, Church of St John the Evangelist, Upper Norwood,
    London. DDD
 Texts and translations included
 Reviewed as 24/96 download with pdf booklet from
    
        chandos.net.
    
 DELPHIAN DCD34211
    [63:42]
	This is the only available recording on CD of the Leighton Mass, Op.44: the
    Chandos recording by the Finzi Singers conducted by Paul Spicer is now
    download only (CHAN9485, with Crucifixus and other music, from
    
        chandos.net,
    mp3 or 16-bit, with pdf booklet). In
    
        October 2009
    
    I borrowed a description of the Naxos recording of Leighton (below) to
    describe that recording as evoking affirmation from the soul and it remains
    my benchmark.
 
    On Chandos, the Mass comes with some very valuable recordings of Leighton’s other
    sacred music: God’s Grandeur, a setting of words by Gerard Manley
Hopkins, the powerful Crucifixus pro nobis, the affirmative    Laudate pueri, and other shorter works. I would recommend even
    reluctant downloaders to obtain it, were it not that there are other fine
    accounts of Crucifixus, notably from St John’s Cambridge, directed
by Christopher Robinson, on Naxos 8.555795, coupled with    An Easter Sequence and other works –
    
        review
    
    –
    
        DL Roundup March 2010.
    
 
For those seeking more of Leighton’s sacred music, there’s his    Missa brevis, Op.50 on a recording of his Cathedral Music, from St
    Paul’s (Hyperion Helios CDH55195, budget price if ordered or downloaded
    from
    
        hyperion-records.co.uk). I praised this in
    
        DL Roundup September 2011/2.
	The Missa Brevis, God’s Grandeur and    Crucifixus pro nobis also feature on a very fine full-price Hyperion
    recording of Leighton’s music (CDA68039 –
    
        review
    
    –
    
        review
    
    –
    
        DL News 2015/4). His Missa de Gloria, or Dublin Festival Mass, Op.82, has been
    recorded by Naxos (8.572601).
 
    Leighton’s music is not ‘easy’, least of all his choral works, but it pays
    rewards. A product of his own love of church music, it nevertheless often
    mirrors the dark night of the soul, as is immediately apparent from the
    opening Kyrie of the Mass, rising to a cry of despair – or demand –
    such as we might expect from the crowd baying for Jesus to be crucified in
    a setting of the Passion.
 
    On Chandos the Mass follows Crucifixus after the intensity is
    allowed to relax a little in Lullay thou little tiny child, but
    there’s plenty of intensity in the singing of the opening Kyrie.
    This is music in a very cold climate, indeed, and there’s not too much
    warmth in the rather spikey Gloria, but the Finzi Singers never
    allow the spikiness to become too dominant.
 
    Though the Gloria is not as unambiguously joyful as we might expect,
    there’s some intricate and thought-provoking part-writing. I wouldn’t like
    to have to sing some of the parts; those for women’s voices are especially
    tricky, but the music achieves far more than simple admiration of the composer’s
    virtuosity.
 
    All this is very well traversed by Paul Spicer and his team. Leighton’s
    music may be very different from that of Finzi, from whom they take their
    name, but they are just as much at home here. The Credo is short and
    sweet; it’s possible to imagine it sounding as if dashed off, but the Finzi
    Singers manage to make its three-minute traversal sound distinguished. What
    could easily have become a gabble is prevented from doing so. Towards the
    end, as the words celebrate the resurrection and the institution of the
    church, the music becomes more exuberant and the performance captures the
    change of mood excellently – the organ accompaniment, absent from the rest
    of the Mass, really helps here.
 
    After that, one might expect Leighton to burst into the Sanctus, as
    the high point of the Mass approaches, but the adulation builds up slowly
    to a soaring high point worthy of the finest renaissance polyphonic
    composer, perhaps the result of his studies in Oxford of Palestrina. Here
    and so often in Leighton’s music the high voices are taxed mercilessly, but
    there’s never any danger of them sounding screechy from the Finzis. At
    first one wonders what happened to the fact that the words were originally
    part of the vision of Isaiah ‘in the year that King Uzziah died’ when the
    prophet was taken up to heaven to hear the angels crying these words aloud,
    though Leighton’s ending takes us much closer to that vision.
 
    If there is evidence of what I’ve seen described as the composer’s sense of
unease in the Sanctus, the same is true of the following    Benedictus; these are, after all, the words of welcome 
	of the ‘children
    of the Hebrews’ who were baying for Jesus’ blood mere days after.
 
    The Benedictus evolves slowly, while the Agnus Dei provides a
    consolatory, ultimately ethereal, though not always comfortable, end to the
    music. The settings of the repetitions of miserere make one sense
    that Leighton would sometimes have liked to shriek at God, as Bernstein
    does in the Kaddish Symphony, but doesn’t quite go that far. If the
    Finzi Singers sometimes soften the edges a little, I’m not one to complain.
 
    All in all, the Chandos offers a very fine account of the Mass. It’s a
    life-enhancing work, though one has to work to get its benefits, so it was
a good idea to round off the Chandos recording with the setting of    Laudate pueri, though even there the praise of the Lord is
    punctuated with moments of struggle. Its availability on Chandos only as a download,
    can be explained only by the shameful neglect of Leighton’s music, which
    makes the new Delphian all the more welcome.
 
    There’s less of a sense of despair in the new recording, with King’s
    College Choir, London, bringing out the beauty of the music rather more,
    though by the end of Kyrie the beauty has clearly shaded into more
    than a hint of despair. The singing is very accomplished and I imagine that
    there will be those listeners who will find this performance easier to live
    with. Many years ago, a colleague left in a hurry on a Friday afternoon to
    rehearse with King’s College Choir, of which he had been a member since
    he’d been an undergraduate. I immediately thought he was off to Cambridge,
    but since then, its mixed-voice London namesake, with six recordings for
    Delphian to its credit1, has made that no longer an automatic
    response.
 
    In the Gloria, too, there’s more of a sense of rejoicing on the new
    recording, without losing sight of the ambiguity that permeates the music.
    Just occasionally the intricacies of the part writing are challenging for
    these gifted amateurs by comparison with the accomplished Finzi Singers,
    but though Leighton’s music is unforgivingly demanding, they rise to the
    challenge very well.
 
    They give the Credo a little more space than the Finzi 
	Singers, achieving even less of a sense of hurry and a greater sense of the importance
of this statement of the core Christian beliefs. In the Sanctus,    Benedictus and Agnus Dei, too, very little, if any, allowance
    has to be made. Try the Sanctus, with its different moods and
    intricate textures for a sample of what these singers can and do achieve.
    In the Agnus Dei, as in the opening Kyrie, the cries for
    mercy are slightly less trenchant than from the Finzi Singers, but the
    difference is more apparent in an A/B comparison that in listening to this
    recording in its own right. In both accounts, the final effect is that Leighton’s
    music contains ‘naught for your comfort’. Perhaps it’s significant that
    Trevor Huddleston’s book of that title was still widely read in 1966 when
    the Mass was first performed.  Though apartheid is gone, is the book 
	any less relevant today?
 
    For Frank Martin there are several alternatives, of which I’ve considered a
    2005 Hyperion recording from Westminster Cathedral Choir and James
    O’Donnell (CDA67017, with Pizzetti Requiem and De Profundis 
	- from 
	hyperion-records.co.uk)
    and a Coro recording, also released in 2005, with The Sixteen and Harry
    Christophers on an all-Martin album (COR16029, with Songs of Ariel
    and Chansons – reviewed as a lossless download, with pdf booklet,
    from thesixteenshop.com).
 
    We seem not to have reviewed either of these, though colleagues have
    praised the Hyperion in reviewing other music by Pizzetti. It has one
    advantage in that it concentrates on sacred music, where the
    Coro mixes sacred and secular. It also comes with the imprimatur of
    a choir with a more continental sound in their blood. Though this may not
    be an advantage in a Mass composed by a composer who received a Calvinist
    upbringing and was uneasy at acknowledging his work, it’s a very special
    recording and I must recommend it, despite my reservations about the music
    (below).
 
    The opening Cantata for the first of August on Coro sets the tone
    for Martin’s sacred music – sparse but approachable. Martin apparently
    regarded his Mass as a private affair which he kept from public view until
    1963; though it, too, is set for double chorus, the intimate scale of The
    Sixteen is appropriate. The moments of exuberance in the Leighton may be
    spikey, but those in Martin are more muted.
 
    The two composers have been paired before, on a 1994 recording from the
    Vasari Singers of the Leighton Requiem and Martin Mass (Signum,
    nla). Nevertheless, the similarities between the two Masses are much less
    than I have seen suggested – and less than the new King’s recording may
    suggest. Though Martin’s Credo is not much longer than Leighton’s,
    for example, it seems more personally felt. The Sixteen bring out his
    desolate response to the words passus … sub Pontio Pilato; though
    there’s no match for the exuberance of the organ-accompanied end of the
    section from Martin, it does end on a dancing note.
 
    In fact, the Credo is the heart of the setting, in spirit as well as
    in its position. The Westminster Cathedral singers presumably believe the
    words they are singing, the other performers not necessarily so, yet while
    the Hyperion recording deserves pride of place, not least for the discovery
    of the Pizzetti Requiem, neither The Sixteen nor King’s College are
    far behind. The Hyperion also gains in the use of boys’ voices – not always
    an advantage, but it is so here, as also on the recent King’s Cambridge
    collection The Music of King’s, which includes the Agnus Dei
    from this Mass (KGS0034 –
    
        Spring 2019/2).
 
    I’ve seen it suggested that the Martin is the finest a cappella
    setting of the Mass of the twentieth century. Certainly, all three of the
    recordings, including the new King’s, present it as an admirable
    achievement, but ultimately it’s a little too unvaried in austerity for me,
    the work of a composer with whom I have never quite come to terms.
 
    To sum up: the new King’s recording offers fine performances of both works
    and the kind of recording quality and presentation that we have come to
    expect from Delphian2. My first choice for the Leighton would
    still be the Finzi Singers on Chandos, even though that’s download only,
    and for Martin The Sixteen on their own Coro label, or, even better still,
    Westminster Cathedral Choir on Hyperion. Of the three recordings, theirs is
    the one that comes closest to persuading me that I may have been too guarded in my response
    to Martin’s music. No-one buying the new Delphian recording, however, need
    feel short-changed; it comes down, as so often, to a question of couplings
    and if the Leighton and Martin together appeal, that’s the one to go for. 
	The 24-bit download is worth paying a little more for.
 
    1
    Most recently in an English version of Brahms’ German Requiem – very
    successfully sung despite Paul Corfield Godfrey’s reservations about the
    arrangement –
    
        review.
    
 
    2
    Two small grumbles: the date of the Leighton work is not given, even in the
    notes, and, to be pedantic, there’s no such thing as ‘Cranmer’s 1550 Book
    of Common Prayer’ – the Merbecke setting referred to, published that year,
    was of the 1549 Prayer Book.
 
    Brian Wilson