Sigurbjörnsson began his musical life singing 
          in the pop band 'Melchior'. He sang with them for two years before going 
          on to a more formal classical training, first in his native Iceland 
          and then in Utrecht, where he studied and wrote avant-garde music. His 
          music has varied from the extremely dissonant 'Symphony of Songs' 
          (1991), serialist music and music developing avant-garde trends of the 
          1960s and 1970s through to purely tonal pieces such as Stokkseryi 
          (1997) 
        
 
        
The church at Skalholt, Iceland, was built in 1956-1963 
          on the site of the great wooden medieval cathedral which lasted until 
          the 18th Century. Since 1975 the church has been the centre 
          of a summer music festival. The present work, Skalholtsmessa, 
          was premiered in 2000 at this Festival. Sigurbjörnsson's version 
          of the mass has a very distinctive cast. In place of the Introit there 
          is a setting of the 18th century hymn "A Beautiful Lyric". 
          Instead of the Latin Credo there is a Latin translation of Martin Luther's 
          Concession of Faith which is taken from a book, written in 1687, 
          believed to have been used at Skalholt School. The mass was premiered 
          on the Feast of St. Olafur Haraddsson, so the composer also included 
          part of the Sequence for the festival. 
        
 
        
Of the soloists, the one name on this disc that I recognised 
          is the UK-based tenor, Finnur Bjarnason, who has appeared with Grange 
          Park Opera, Glyndebourne Touring Opera and Glyndebourne Opera. Soprano 
          Marta Gudrun Halldorsdottir has premiered much new music in Iceland. 
          As well as singing at Icelandic Opera she runs a parallel career singing 
          Baroque music. Her cool soprano, without too much vibrato, is very apt 
          for this music. Bass Benedikt Ingolfsson, with his surprisingly warm 
          dark voice, studied in The Hague and besides singing contemporary music, 
          sings much classical and pre-classical. 
        
 
        
This mix of modern and early music in the soloists 
          is interesting as the Skalholt Mass has elements of both. Not only does 
          the chamber ensemble include a harpsichord, but it also includes a very 
          modern percussion section. The very form of the work, a series of movements 
          for soloists and ensemble, harks back to baroque usage. This is no cut 
          down choral work, the movements consist of overlapping solo sections 
          forming a sequence of solos, duos and trios. 
        
 
        
On the evidence of this disc, Sigurbjörnsson has 
          quite a distinctive voice. The mass is scored for three soloists and 
          a chamber ensemble which includes harpsichord. The music is essentially 
          diatonic without ever seeming simplistic, no mean feat in this stylistically 
          pluralist age. The ensemble has a distinctly Stravinskian neo-classical 
          timbre but the overlaying vocal lines are rather more melodic. 
        
 
        
A clue to the way into the work is possibly the final 
          movement, the Epilogue - Beata nobis gaudia. This is an orchestration 
          of his arrangement of a latin hymn, which comes from the same book as 
          the text of the Credo. The plainchant tune, simply harmonised for the 
          three soloists, lies easily over the spiky orchestral accompaniment. 
          It points the way, quite significantly, to the other movements. 
        
 
        
The work opens quite unassumingly, with the soloists 
          singing in Icelandic. From a solo bass with harpsichord, voices are 
          added and the occasional obbligato instrument. The Introit gradually 
          develops and the textures thicken. The harpsichord, providing a series 
          of ostinatos, is a constant, highly audible factor in the unusual instrumental 
          textures. The final section of the movement is almost a choral for the 
          three soloists, accompanied by the busy, spiky orchestra. This movement 
          is followed by a short ceremonial Praeludium; there are three of these 
          short movements punctuating the piece. 
        
 
        
The Kyrie reverts to Latin and the remainder of the 
          mass is sung in this language. Starting with a gentle rocking orchestral 
          motif, the Kyrie develops into a lyrical duet for the tenor and bass 
          only to be interrupted by the ravishingly pure soprano solo in the Christe. 
          The opening material of the Kyrie returns but counter-pointed with a 
          trombone this time, only for Sigurbjörnsson to spring a surprise 
          as the Christe returns again and we close with a glorious Soprano solo. 
        
 
        
The Gloria starts with the orchestra at its most neo-classical 
          Stravinskian in a march-like rhythm, but the composer surprises us by 
          giving the opening words to the soprano soloist. The opening march-like 
          material is used as punctuation throughout the movement. From calm beginnings, 
          the movement builds until tension is released with a plaintive tenor 
          solo on the words 'miserere nobis'. Then Sigurbjörnsson springs 
          another surprise as the 'Laudamus te' section returns before the gradual 
          build up to the end of the movement, when the final 'Cum Sancto Spirito' 
          is repeated as a quiet coda. 
        
 
        
A contrapuntal harpsichord Praeludium leads to the 
          short sequence, Lux illuxit, which is dominated by the tenor and bass's 
          haunting hypnotic repetition of the words 'Lux illuxit'/'Lux illustris'. 
          The Credo opens with held wind chords over repeated tuned percussion 
          notes and this throbbing percussion threads its way throughout this 
          movement. The three soloists chant the words in near rhythmic unison, 
          subtle differences in rhythm serving to give the impression of three 
          individuals voicing their thoughts. This is a remarkably meditative 
          movement despite the quite tough musical material. The Sanctus, in triple 
          time, is both celebratory and joyful. The Agnus Dei opens with the spare 
          textures of a single voice with occasional instrumental support. The 
          vocal line at this point is very redolent of plainchant - a link with 
          the final movement. 
        
 
        
The disc comes attractively packaged, with a very striking 
          image from an Icelandic 18th century anthology of hymns. 
          The record label, Smekkleysa, translates as Bad Taste and their output 
          seems to cover a whole variety of musical genres from classical through 
          to experimental rock and Björk. 
        
 
        
The recording, though admirably clear, sounds rather 
          studio bound. I can understand the desire to present the music with 
          as much clarity as possible, but I would rather have liked to hear the 
          work with rather more space around it. Could we not have had it recorded 
          in the venue for which is was written? 
        
 
        
I enjoyed this music immensely. The composer has gone 
          to some care to make his piece redolent of the particular time and place 
          of commissioning and performance. That this place, the church at Skalholt, 
          is such a mixture of old and new colours the music. While writing music 
          which is essentially tonal, Sigurbjörnsson has created a language 
          which retains the listeners’ interest, never talking down to them but 
          never leaving them behind. I am unfamiliar with the remainder of Sigurbjörnsson's 
          oeuvre, so I do not know whether this lovely piece represents a seam 
          which he is mining, or a one-off dead-end created specially for the 
          occasion. But whichever it is, the piece and this confident performance 
          are both highly recommendable. 
        
 
        
Robert Hugill