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Francis POTT (b.
1957) The Cloud of Unknowing (2006) [88:46]
James Gilchrist
(tenor)
Jeremy Filsell (organ)
Vasari Singers/Jeremy Backhouse
rec. Tonbridge School, UK, 16-18 February 2007. DDD
Texts included SIGNUM
CLASSICS SIGCD105 [45:28 + 43:18]
Last
year, when reviewing an outstanding CD of choral and organ
music by Francis
Pott I commented that I couldn’t wait to hear the recording
of his new work, The Cloud ofUnknowing, which
he had written for the Vasari Singers and which they premièred
in 2006. Well, here it is on disc.
In
fact this very substantial new work was originally intended
to be much more modest in scale. It was one of ten short
anthems commissioned by Jeremy Backhouse and the Vasari Singers
to celebrate the choir’s twenty-fifth anniversary in 2005.
The other nine commissioned pieces were all recorded by the
choir on a very fine CD, Anthems
for the 21st Century (see review) but Francis Pott’s
contribution was at that time incomplete for he had found
that his inspiration
needed a much bigger canvass.
Eventually The
Cloud ofUnknowing became a major work for tenor
solo, mixed choir and organ, lasting nearly an hour and
a half. The composer assembled his own libretto, drawing
on a variety of texts. These include several of the Psalms;
verses from the Old Testament Book of Joel; from the Book
of Revelation; and from several poets. Among the selected
poets are Thomas Traherne (1636-1674); William Blake (1757-1827);
the English war poets, Wilfred Owen (1893-1918) and Isaac
Rosenberg (1890-1918); the Frenchman, René Arcos (1881-1959);
and the Cretan poet and Nobel Prize winner, Odysseus Elytis
(1911-1996). Finally, and crucially, in the concluding
section of the work Pott uses words from the anonymous
fourteenth century English mystical tract, which gives
its name to the whole piece.
It
would be unduly simplistic to describe The Cloud ofUnknowing as
an anti-war piece. However, it treats of and protests against
man’s inhumanity to man, which is often manifested through
warfare. As such, it seems to me to follow in a noble lineage
that includes Dona Nobis Pacem by Vaughan Williams
and Britten’s War Requiem. The first music to be composed
was the setting of Psalm 23, with which the first of the
work’s two parts closes. This was a direct response to the
2004 massacre at Beslan in Northern Ossetia when over three
hundred people, 186 of them children, perished in a school
siege involving Chechen separatists. In due course Pott moved
on from this modest setting (it lasts about nine minutes)
to a much more extended musical canvass in which he considers
human cruelty and suffering in music that is often both graphic
and harrowing. Tellingly, although the score is dedicated
to Pott’s wife it also bears the following inscription: In
memoriam: Margaret Hassan and all innocent lives lost in
or beyond Iraq. Of this inscription the composer
comments in his booklet note: “Invocation of one of Iraq’s
more grievous individual losses is emblematic, and made without
permission; the sentiment behind it one of personal revulsion
at the hollow eulogies of western leaders mired in blood
no less than those they would condemn.”
Thus
does Pott unashamedly nail his colours to the mast and become
the latest in a long line of distinguished artists, performing
and creative, who have used their art to make a political
or philosophical point. There may be some who will disagree
with the polemic I have just quoted. Maybe so, but most emphatically
any such disagreement should not be a reason for ignoring The
Cloud ofUnknowing - for passing by on the other
side. For this piece, I believe, is an important artistic
statement, which carries a powerful humanitarian message
that is of relevance to people of all political persuasions.
The
work is in two parts, though it plays continuously in performance,
I understand. It is slightly too long to fit onto a single
CD. Sensibly, therefore, the decision has been taken to put
each part onto one disc and the break, when it comes, is
not too inimical to continuity. In addition, the recording
has been divided into tracks, seventeen for Part One and
twelve for Part Two and since these tracks are indicated
in the libretto, and referred to in the composer’s analytical
note, this all helps the listener enormously.
The
tenor soloist plays a crucial part, or perhaps I should say
parts, for in his note Francis Pott has this to say: “The
soloist typifies a deliberate tendency for identities to
blur at particular moments throughout the work. At various
points he will assume the guise of prophet, reluctant soldier,
Christ figure or worldly Everyman. In essence his is the
voice of human conscience, frequently drowned but still insistent
amid the sound and fury of war.” Actually, one advantage
of a recording is that, through judicious microphone placing,
the soloist’s voice is invariably audible, though it is,
rightly, a struggle at times. It is hard to imagine that
the hugely demanding solo role could have a finer advocate
than James Gilchrist. I’ve long admired his work but I don’t
recall a performance on disc in which he’s surpassed his
achievement here. Notice that I deliberately said “on disc” for
not long ago I was fortunate enough to hear him deliver a
superb live performance as the tenor soloist in Britten’s War
Requiem (see review). Although Pott only uses words
by Wilfred Own at a couple of points in the work I’m sure
it’s
no coincidence that with Gilchrist’s performance of the Owen
settings in Britten’s great work still fresh in my memory
I caught echoes and resonances from it several times during The
Cloud ofUnknowing.
Pott
demands a huge vocal and emotional range – and great staying
power - from his soloist but Gilchrist is equal to every
one of the manifold challenges in the score. His voice is
ideally suited for this music for it is essentially a light
one, and so perfectly attuned to the many moments of intimacy
in the score. However, Gilchrist has ample vocal power, when
required, together with a touch of steel and so he’s more
than capable of delivering the dramatic passages with bite.
Whether singing quietly or full out his singing blazes with
conviction at all times. I presume the music was written
with his voice in mind; if so I suspect that Pott may have
captured the essence of Gilchrist’s vocal persona pretty
unerringly.
The
independent organ part is of huge importance. This is no “mere” accompaniment;
the organist is a leading protagonist in the piece. The part
sounds to be hugely complex, requiring tremendous virtuosity
and also great sensitivity. Of course, Jeremy Filsell fits
those requirements perfectly and he plays with great skill,
imagination and finesse. It’s also worth pointing out that
great stamina is demanded of the organist; at least the singers
get a breather from time to time but Filsell scarcely has
more than an occasional few bars rest – and those rests are
very infrequent – throughout the whole span of the piece.
The organ part is of orchestral dimensions and I can pay
Filsell no higher compliment than to say that never once
did I wish the work had been written for orchestra. The engineers
have captured the sound of the organ magnificently so that
the many very quiet passages register atmospherically and
truthfully while the frequent thunderous episodes are stunningly
reported without any hint of distortion or overload. Thanks
to the combined skills of organist and engineers the many
complexities of the organ part are captured with marvellous
clarity.
As
for the Vasari Singers, their contribution is quite superb.
There are some passages of relative simplicity – but I use
the word “relative” advisedly, for even when Pott isn’t writing
music of great complexity or demanding polyphony he gives
his choir music which requires outstanding and unerring accuracy
of tuning, rhythm and ensemble. Superficially, the setting
for female voices only of Psalm 23, with which Part One closes,
sounds fairly straightforward but this is only in comparison
to the many pages of virtuoso music that have preceded it.
Listen again, and more closely, and you will realise that
even this fairly calm and direct music places great demands
on the singers if it is to be put across as beautifully as
is here the case. I believe that the vocal score runs to
290 pages and the choir is involved, I should say for at
least fifty percent of the work. To learn such an amount
of difficult music and then master it to such a degree as
to give a performance as exciting and committed as this requires
a top-flight choir and one, moreover, that is at the top
of its form.
Of
course, that degree of choral excellence implies an extraordinary
conductor in charge of the ensemble. Jeremy Backhouse’s credentials
as a choral conductor are well known. However, I wonder if
he has done anything finer than this? Goodness knows how
many hours of rehearsal were required to prepare this work.
But Backhouse has done far, far more than teach his singers
the notes. This is a performance that goes way beyond the
printed page of the score. Indeed it’s one that, as all great
performances do, takes the printed page merely as the starting
point. It’s quite evident from the sweep and power of this
performance that Jeremy Backhouse has got right behind the
notes and into the very essence of the piece. He believes
in the music and its message and he’s clearly communicated
that belief to the performers. The score is given a reading
of white-hot intensity and while I’m sure the recording is
the product of several takes it has the feel of a single
performance caught on the wing.
The
music of Part One begins quietly, though it’s an uneasy quiet,
pregnant with tension. We first hear a sombre organ prelude
after which the choir enters with music that is flowing and
liquid at first but which soon becomes more urgent and complex.
in texture. The listener senses that all this is a prelude
to something of significant import. Before long soloist and
chorus together usher in visions of the Four Horsemen of
the Apocalypse. The music gathers in power and intensity
and the organ writing is frequently energetic and potent.
The images of the Horsemen are quite frightening. Pott maintains
the tension and drama for page after page, even on those
occasions when the dynamic level of the music reduces.
Shortly
afterwards words by René Arcos appear for the first time
and in particular one line, which clearly has great significance
for Pott: “The dead are all on the same side”. This is a
powerful image of the waste and futility of violence and
these words dominate proceedings for quite a while. They
reappear in Part Two where, tellingly, they are conjoined
with one of Wilfred Owen’s most celebrated lines: “I am the
enemy you killed, my friend” from his poem, Strange Meeting.
However,
that’s to anticipate. Arcos’s words appear for the first
time during a passage of gripping intensity, which is the
build up to the main climax of Part One. This climax is achieved
when the choir sings some literally dreadful words from the
Psalms: “Blessed be he that taketh their children and dasheth
them against the stones”. This is a truly frightening climax
and though there is more loud music shortly afterwards, notably
in a fairly short but seething organ solo, you feel as if
that aforementioned climax has sucked much of the venom out
of the music and released it. The tumult subsides and Pott
gives some words by Wilfred Owen to the tenor. Interestingly,
however, his choice of text falls not on one of the war poems
but on a letter – admittedly one containing very poetic imagery – written
from the trenches by Owen to Osbert Sitwell. These words
are set as a subdued recitativo against a very spare organ
accompaniment and the combination of Owen’s words, the tenor
voice and highly economical instrumental support are highly
suggestive of War Requiem. After all the biting intensity
of his singing in the preceding dramatic passages I found
Gilchrist’s singing here to be absolutely mesmerising.
Immediately
after this we hear the setting of Psalm 23 for SSAA chorus
and organ that was the genesis of the whole work. It’s a
reflective yet troubled setting and one of no little pathos.
In it Pott responds to what he calls “the harrowing images
of maternal distress” seen after the Beslan massacre and
this explains his decision to use only women’s voices. Though
superficially more gentle than much of the preceding music
it’s just as emotional. In this state of uneasy calm Part
One comes to a close.
Part
Two begins with an extended tenor solo, setting words by
Odysseus Elytis, describing the death of a soldier, shot
in battle. The death is graphically depicted both by poet
and composer. Gilchrist sings this long solo with riveting
expressiveness and ensures that this moving section makes
its full impact. Part way through the tenor’s solo the chorus
sing quietly the words of Christ on the cross: “My God, my
God, why hast thou forsaken me?” The restraint of the music
here adds to the effect. A ghostly organ passage acts as
a postlude after the soloist is done and then the choir sing
words by Thomas Traherne. The music of this passage is like
a still pool but even when the music is subdued I find that
Pott sustains the tension. At the end of the Traherne section
the soloist sings the juxtaposed words of Owen and Arcos
that I mentioned earlier. This is a minor triumph of discernment
for Pott in that the words could have been made for each
other.
Soon
after that we move into the Epilogue of the work and it’s
here that the text is taken from The Cloud ofUnknowing. The
Epilogue begins with a flowing organ prelude. This gives
way to a plaintively liquid tenor solo, which eventually
becomes more affirmative. The tenor continues in this affirmative
vein while, underneath, the choir sings words from Psalm
90. The ecstatic and chromatic choral writing in this section
put me in mind of Herbert Howells at times. For me the music
achieves particular eloquence when the soloist sings “And
therefore lift up thy head with a blind stirring of love;
For if it begin here, it shall last without end.” Though
Francis Pott doesn’t says so explicitly in his notes I wonder
if these words are the kernel, the message, of the
whole piece.
The
choir’s music now becomes increasingly complex and loud,
the polyphony intertwining more and more. At times, valiantly
though they sing, it seems as if the choir are in danger
of being overwhelmed, both vocally and emotionally, by the
hugely demanding music but they win through to achieve a
wonderful climax, which spills over into “Amen”. Now it seems
the music is winding down, becoming more tranquil. But in
a final coup, Pott rudely interrupts the serenity
with an anguished reminder of Christ’s cry from the cross,
this time sung, harrowingly, by the soloist. But then a state
of calm is reached at last as the choir sings an extended
final Amen. The work ends with one last, enigmatic and hushed
organ chord, which lasts for some 28 seconds and which, in
the composer’s words, “enfolds all in its own seemingly eternal
cloud of unknowing.”
I
think it’s premature to make a definitive judgement of the
artistic stature of The Cloud ofUnknowing.
The work is too new. It’s also too raw in my consciousness. Such
a verdict can only be reached over time, once it has settled
with the listener and once, I hope, a performance tradition
has been established. However, already I am confident that
this is a work of great importance and one that not only
stands firmly in the proud tradition of English choral music
but that also carries that tradition forward and enriches
it. It’s an eloquent and hugely compelling work, which I
find very convincing.
Francis
Pott’s cause is helped immeasurably, as I’m sure he’ll gratefully
acknowledge, by the superb artistry of all the performers
involved here. The singing and organ playing is absolutely
superb and the engineers have captured the music in a recording
that combines ambience and thrilling realism. I can’t commend
Signum highly enough for having the vision and the commercial
courage to issue this recording.
I
listened, enthralled, to this major addition to the choral
repertoire. Last year Francis Pott's was
among my choices for Recordings of the Year and after hearing
this marvellous, eloquent new release I’m
sure history will repeat itself in 2007.
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