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Giles SWAYNE (b. 1946)
Magnificat I (1982) [4.18]
The silent land (1997) [22.58] (2)
Ave verum corpus (2003) [3.08]
Stabat mater (2004) [36.18]
African traditional
O Lulum [1.37] (1)
The La Jola people, Senegal (1)
Raphael Wallfisch (cello) (2)
The Dimitri Ensemble/Graham Ross
rec. All Hallows Church, Gospel Oak, London, 7-9 April 2010, except
for O Lulum. Senegal, 1982
Texts included
NAXOS 8.572595 [68.18]
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There’s something of a Clare College vein running through this
disc. Giles Swayne, a Cambridge graduate himself, has been teaching
composition at the university since 2003 and has been composer-in-residence
at Clare since 2008. Though Timothy Brown, the college’s Director of
Music between 1979 and 2010, isn’t involved with this disc per
se, Swayne credits Brown with “luring” him back to
Cambridge. Brown directed the first performance of The silent land
and Ave verum corpus was composed for him and the Clare choir. Then
we have Graham Ross, the conductor on this disc and Brown’s successor
at Clare College; he was once a student of Swayne’s at Clare. To
complete the Clare picture the producer, engineer and editor of this disc is
none other than John Rutter. I mention all this not to give the impression
of some cosy club but rather to suggest that here we have evidence of
several experienced musicians collaborating on the choral music of an
important composer and friend.
All but one of these Swayne pieces are receiving their first
recordings. The exception is his 1982 Magnificat which, by coincidence, I
first heard in a recording conducted by John Rutter. It’s based on a
traditional Senegalese song which Swayne encountered and recorded while
undertaking field research in Senegal. I’ve heard the Magnificat
several times, both on disc and in performance, but I’ve never heard
the song on which it’s based. Here, very imaginatively, the recording
that Swayne made over thirty years ago precedes the Magnificat and I found
that tremendously helpful. Swayne’s piece contains complex, robust and
exuberant choral writing which is delivered superbly here; I’ve never
enjoyed the piece so much.
The silent land is described by the composer as the outcome
of his desire to write “a Requiem which omitted God, punishment and
reward, and concentrated on the acceptance of human loss.” For his
text Swayne assembled words by Christina Rossetti, Robert Louis Stephenson
and Dylan Thomas as well as from the Requiem Mass. The work is scored for
solo cello and, like Tallis’s Spem in Alium, eight five-part
choirs, with each choir including a soloist so that there’s in effect
an SATB semi-chorus. The cello represents the individual soul, the
semi-chorus the grieving family and the main choirs the “wider
community”.
The piece is not for the faint-hearted. From start to finish the
music is extremely intense and impassioned and I didn’t find listening
to it a comfortable experience - I’m sure Swayne didn’t intend
it to be. It’s music that confronts the listener. At times, especially
during roughly the first half of the piece, the choral textures are teeming
and as the volume increases the cello is almost overwhelmed, quite possibly
by design. From about 12:30 onwards the singers sing over and over again the
words “Requiescant in pace” against which the cello has
impassioned, pretty unceasing music. I don’t know whether this is the
intention but I received the impression that the soul, as represented by the
cello, is in its death throes, struggling - and perhaps raging - against the
onset of death. The piece is a tour de force for all concerned and it
receives a performance of blistering intensity.
All that said, my subjective response to The silent land is,
at best, lukewarm. Partly this is a matter of personal taste. I found it all
pretty unrelenting and even, at times, aggressive. Furthermore - and I
acknowledge readily that we all have individual responses to works of art -
it seems to me that there is a gentle, consoling aspect to the Rossetti
words in particular and Swayne’s music strikes me as completely at
odds with this side of the words. The music eventually attains quietness of
a sort in the last three minutes or so but then the very last time that the
choir sings “Requiescant in pace” it’s in a manner that
sounds more like an angry demand than a plea. The other reaction I have to
the piece is that it seems too long. I don’t feel much would have been
lost if the section from 12:30 to the end had been half the length. This is
not for me, I’m afraid, and I can’t see myself returning to this
piece.
If I say that the music of the Stabat Mater is more
“traditional” I don’t mean that in any derogatory fashion.
Swayne himself says that he felt it right to use “simple musical
language” on this occasion and the result is a piece that I found much
more approachable than The silent land yet it sacrifices nothing in
terms of eloquence or intensity. In contemplating setting the medieval
Christian text Swayne says that he was conscious of the Israeli-Palestinian
conflict and that “the events it [the Stabat Mater] relates are being
repeated today, a stone’s throw from the place where Jesus is said to
have been crucified.” As he says when people perish in conflict,
“it is always the women who are left behind.” So in this setting
for unaccompanied SATB soloists and choir Swayne juxtaposes the Latin text
of the Stabat Mater with Hebrew and Aramaic texts. I think this works
extremely well and Swayne has produced a work that is nothing if not
thought-provoking.
Though he’s used simpler musical language as compared to
The silent land I doubt the Stabat Master is any less demanding to
sing. The music is often searingly intense and the performance it receives
here is similarly intense. The singing has tremendous conviction and the
four soloists sing their roles ardently. I found it challenging to hear but
rewarding and moving. Unlike The silent land I felt that the piece
sustains its length - perhaps it helps that it’s divided into thirteen
separate sections, each helpfully tracked separately by Naxos. The
performance of this testing piece generates genuine and consistent tension
and this is a piece to which I expect to return.
It’s always a little difficult to judge when one is listening
to unfamiliar music, particularly the music of our own time, but it seems to
me that Graham Ross and The Dimitri Ensemble deliver tremendous performances
of these challenging pieces. The music-making burns with conviction and I
would imagine that Giles Swayne is delighted with the results. The recorded
sound has terrific presence and the composer contributes a very useful
booklet note.
John Quinn
See also review by Robert Hugill
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