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Ralph VAUGHAN WILLIAMS (1872-1958)
Mass in G minor (1921) [22:35]
A Vision of Aeroplanes (1956) [9:31]
The Voice out of the Whirlwind (1947) [5:23]
Valiant-for-Truth (1940) [5:32]
Three Choral Hymns (1929) [12:55]
Nothing is here for tears (1936) [2:14]
The Souls of the Righteous (1947) [3:19]
A Choral Flourish (1956) [1:42]
James McVinnie and Ashok Gupta (organ)
Choir of Clare College, Cambridge/Timothy Brown
rec. Chapel of St. John’s College, Cambridge, UK, 16 July 2009 and
Chapel of Jesus College, Cambridge, UK, 17 July 2009. DDD
NAXOS 8.572465 [63:11]
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Apart from the superb singing and playing
to be heard on this disc, one of its main attractions for Vaughan
Williams enthusiasts will be a programme featuring several lesser-known
works. Indeed, thanks to this disc, two pieces make their first
appearance in my supposedly comprehensive Vaughan Williams collection.
Nothing is here for tears, a unison song to a text from
Milton, was written following the death of George V. Its melody
is pure Vaughan Williams, and once heard will haunt most devotees
of the composer for the rest of the day. A Choral Flourish,
on the other hand, is a brief and brilliant setting in Latin of
the final verse of Psalm 32. It is unaccompanied apart from a
tiny, clarion-like introduction.
The Voice out of the Whirlwind, wherein the composer adapted
the “Galliard of the Sons of the Morning” from Job to fit
a challenging text from the Book of Job, is given here
in its original version for choir and organ. Most of the organ-accompanied
works on this disc exist also in orchestral versions, and listeners
interested in the orchestral arrangement of this work, which Vaughan
Williams prepared for the Leith Hill Musical Festival, can hear
it on the superb Naxos companion disc featuring the first recording
of Willow-Wood. You will be able to follow the words on
that disc too, though not with the present performance as, sadly,
none of the texts is provided: purchasers are directed to the
Naxos website instead. The Souls of the Righteous is one
of the composer’s less well-known unaccompanied motets, but a
most beautiful one. The excellent soloists are named in the booklet.
Any lover of Vaughan Williams’ music – especially if he or she
is also an amateur choral conductor – will probably quibble at
this or that detail of interpretation in some of these performances,
so if I say that there are aspects of this reading of the sublime
Valiant-for-Truth that I might have preferred otherwise,
let me underline that it is, nonetheless, as beautiful a performance
as all the others on the disc. A pity, though, about the momentarily
intrusive male alto timbre at “Who now will be my rewarder”, one
of the most beautiful passages in the work, as well as what sounds
like an edit during the silence which follows this passage.
Like Valiant-for-Truth, the Three Choral Hymns is
a minor masterpiece. It was one of several works Vaughan Williams
composed to celebrate the jubilee of the Leith Hill Musical Festival
in 1930, and according to Timothy Brown’s booklet notes, this
is the first recording of it in its organ-accompanied form. All
three pieces are marvellous, but the third, “Whitsunday Hymn”,
is pure balm. I only know one other performance, that by Matthew
Best conducting the Corydon Singers on Hyperion, the orchestral
version and thus with slightly greater claim to the collector’s
attention. As regards the choral contribution, however, there
is nothing to choose between the two performances. I had not listened
to this work for a long time, and I’m looking forward to returning
to both performances many times over the coming weeks.
Vaughan Williams is in many respects an enigmatic composer. Whilst
much of his music may be taken, as it were, at face value and
enjoyed as such, obstacles arise when one starts to ponder on
its meaning; the composer himself would have argued that the question
was irrelevant. Few of his works pose questions so intractable
as A Vision of Aeroplanes. The words, chosen from the first
chapter of the Book of Ezekiel, tell of bizarre, humanlike
figures which appear out of a whirlwind and fire, of wheels that
rise and fall with them, of the noise of the beating of the creatures’
wings “as the voice of the Almighty” and a throne upon which sits
“the likeness of the glory of the Lord”. The main part of the
work is Vaughan Williams at his most violent and uncompromising,
the choral parts highly challenging technically, and the organ
part even more so. This is a magnificent performance, though in
common with others I have heard the huge organ part coupled with
the church acoustic prevents some of the choral dissonances from
being heard. I’ve never quite been able to come to terms with
this piece, with its tritone and whole tone harmonies, so alien
to most of the composer’s output, but once again this is a performance
to which I will return with renewed determination in the hope
of doing so. I do wonder, though, what those listeners without
access to the internet, and therefore without the text in front
of them, will be able to make of this work.
The virtuoso organ part in A Vision of Aeroplanes is brilliantly
played by James McVinnie. The excellent organist in the other
accompanied works is Ashok Gupta, a final-year student at Clare
College.
And so to the main work in the programme, the Mass in G minor.
Westminster Cathedral Choir with Martin Baker on Hyperion are
marvellous in this work, as are Laudibus and Michael Brewer on
Delphian. My favourite, though, is that conducted by Richard Hickox,
with a choir called the Richard Hickox Singers, and issued alongside
his Chandos performance of the Fourth Symphony. This is to cite
only three of the many fine recorded performances available of
the Mass, and to that group we may now add the present
one from Clare College. The echoes of Tudor church music are particularly
strong in this performance, and at certain points one is almost
transported back through the centuries, such is the purity of
the singing and the vision. The solo parts are particularly convincing,
as they are throughout the disc, and Brown gets as close as any
conductor I have heard to a real triple piano in the final
cadence. A few technical points might trouble some listeners.
For some reason the altos take a beat out of the third bar before
the end of the Kyrie. Then there is a strange noise – from
an edit? – just before the word “passus” in the Credo.
This might only bother those who listen on headphones, but few
people would miss the artificially extinguished reverberation
between the intonation to the Gloria and the first notes
from the choir. But none of that should deter collectors from
acquiring this most desirable disc.
William Hedley
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