A couple of points struck me particularly
on reading the liner notes accompanying
this CD. I was rather surprised to find
that Pierre Villette was a contemporary
of Pierre Boulez at the Paris Conservatoire
– a real case of musical chalk and cheese!
– but not at all surprised to learn
that an early influence was the composer,
Maurice Duruflé. The other point,
and a sobering one, was the assertion
by Villette’s widow that his music is
relatively little known in his native
country because "I think religious
music has more hold abroad than here
in France. Cathedral choirs are thin
on the ground these days ..." That’s
a sad indictment of a country with wonderful
cultural, religious and philosophical
traditions and one where so many of
the world’s finest churches and cathedrals
are to be found. Happily, Villette’s
church music at least has been taken
up by choirs in other countries, including
in the UK where the choir of Worcester
Cathedral under their then director,
Donald Hunt, were early pioneers.
I’m ashamed to say
that, so far as I can recall, all but
five of the pieces on this disc were
new to me. However, I’ve known and loved
for many years the ravishing little
Hymne à la Vierge in particular
so I was excited by the prospect of
becoming acquainted with more of Villette’s
output. I’m glad to say that my expectations
were more than met, both in terms of
the quality of the music and in terms
of the excellence of the performances
they receive here.
A few words about the
composer may be appropriate and I’m
indebted here to Fiona Clampin’s exemplary
liner note. Villette was born into a
musical family though his father, who
himself composed and also played several
instruments, was not a professional
musician but instead ran a joinery business.
As a boy Villette sang in the choir
of Rouen Cathedral, where Duruflé
had been a chorister a couple of decades
earlier. Duruflé helped to prepare
him for the entrance examination for
the Paris Conservatoire, which he passed
at the age of fifteen. However, Villette’s
studies were interrupted first by the
War and then, in 1948, by the death
of his father. His father’s demise meant
that Villette had to return home to
run the family business for a while.
Around this time he also endured a period
of severe ill health. Recovering from
these twin setbacks to his musical development,
Villette became head of the conservatoire
at Besançon in 1957. In 1967
he moved to a similar post at the Conservatoire
d’Aix-en-Provence, where he remained
until his retirement twenty years later.
Retirement gave him more time for composition
and several of the pieces included here
were written in those last years.
Although he had his
own quietly distinctive voice, Villette’s
music may well remind listeners of the
choral music of Poulenc in its long
vocal lines, the piquant harmonies,
the discriminating use of sweetness
and sensitive employment of dissonance.
There’s also a clear influence of plainsong
and so, inevitably, Duruflé’s
music often comes to mind. One other,
perhaps surprising, occasional influence
is Messiaen. I listened to the disc
before reading the notes and the very
first track, O sacrum convivium,
reminded me strongly of Messiaen’s setting
of the selfsame text, his only piece
of liturgical music. Lo and behold,
the notes reveal that Villette admired
Messiaen so I’m sure the resemblance
to Messiaen’s wondrous 1937 setting
is no accident.
Most of the music is
predominantly gentle in tone, though
it often has an inner strength. In fact,
there’s only one really extrovert item
in the whole programme. That’s Tu
es Petrus, written for the enthronement
of the Archbishop of Besançon
in 1959. This is, by definition, a more
public piece in which the choir is accompanied
by a resplendent organ. For this track
the choir is placed in a different perspective
within the Temple Church and at more
of a distance from the microphones,
presumably so that the engineers could
integrate the organ, which they have
done most successfully. This piece was
a splendid salutation to the new archbishop
and if the prelate in question was a
musical man then I’m sure he was delighted.
The remainder of the
programme is much more restrained in
tone and so I think it was a good idea
to mix up earlier works – mainly from
the 1950s – with pieces that Villette
composed after retiring from academia.
Hymne à la Vierge is perhaps
the piece by which Villette’s name is
best known. It’s a ravishing miniature,
composed in the mid-1950s and it receives
a devoted performance here. It’s a very
supple reading and Stephen Layton ensures
that the music flows easily and naturally.
He’s equally successful in the much
later Notre Père d’Aix,
a disarmingly simple setting of the
Lord’s Prayer in French. This piece
was new to me and I was captivated by
it.
By contrast, Inviolata,
though quite short, is much more complex.
Indeed, the choir is at times divided
into as many as twenty separate parts.
Layton and his singers make it all sound
so natural and fluent, which is a great
tribute to their collective musicianship.
The piece achieves an ecstatic climax,
beautifully handled here, before relapsing
into a rapt, hushed ending on the word
"Maria". Inviolata was
another piece that I hadn’t heard before.
However, I did know Attende, Domine,
which Villette dedicated to Donald Hunt
and the choir of Worcester Cathedral,
presumably in recognition of the efforts
they had made to champion his music.
This is a very fine piece. It’s a dark,
indeed troubled, penitential work with
an appropriate touch of austerity about
it. To me it recalls Poulenc’s darker
choral music, especially the Quatre
motets pour un temps de pénitence,
and the ending is quite marvellous.
Chronologically, the
last work included here is Panis
angelicus. This setting displays
an admirable economy of means. It’s
a lovely piece and the concluding, subdued
"Amen" calls for – and receives
– superbly controlled singing. The final
chord is a subtle surprise. Actually,
Villette is rather good at "Amens".
The one that ends O salutaris
hostia is another such gem.
The last two pieces
on the disc are rather special. The
penultimate track is a setting of a
text by St. Thomas Aquinas, Adoro
te. It’s a devoted, quietly fervent
setting and the Holst Singers perform
it marvellously. Finally we hear O
magnum mysterium. I wonder why it
should be that these words so often
inspire particularly eloquent and beautiful
music? I think of - in no particular
order - Victoria, Poulenc and Morten
Lauridsen, to name but three. Villette’s
setting is worthy to be mentioned in
the same breath as these. He too catches
the sense of wonder occasioned by the
crib scene at Bethlehem and the mystery
of Christ’s incarnation.
This is, quite simply,
a marvellous disc. The singing of the
Holst Singers is consistently superb,
with marvellous internal balancing of
the voices, and Stephen Layton directs
them most sympathetically, further enhancing
his reputation as one of the very finest
British choral conductors. As an aside,
when he becomes Director of Music at
Trinity College, Cambridge this autumn
I hope this important appointment will
not curtail his work and enterprising
recordings with either the Holst Singers
or with his other choir, Polyphony.
The recorded sound
on this disc is all that one could wish.
The splendid singing is most truthfully
reported and the resonance of the building
has been used very understandingly to
give a fine and natural ambience. Finally,
the documentation is up to Hyperion’s
usual very high standard. Fiona Clampin’s
readable and informative notes are a
model of their kind and the texts of
all the pieces are provided, together
with English translations – the liner
note is also translated into French
and German.
Villette’s subtle and
beautiful music deserves a wide audience
and this superbly performed recital
is an ideal way to get to know it. This
is an outstanding disc.
John Quinn
Holst Singers/Stephen Layton 
for
details
