Sergei RACHMANINOV (1873-1943)
All-night Vigil, Op. 37 (1915) [51:44]
The Theotokos, Ever-Vigilant in Prayer (1893) [7:52]
Gert-Jan Alders (bass); Matthew Minter, Eyjólfur Eyjólfsson (tenors); Pierrette de Zwaan (alto)
Netherlands Radio Choir/Kaspars Putniņš
rec. October/November 2012, Studio MCO5, Hilversum, the Netherlands
Reviewed as a 24/96 download from eClassical
Pdf booklet includes sung texts (Cyrillic and English)
BIS BIS-2039 SACD [60:20]
Sergei RACHMANINOV (1873-1943)
All-night Vigil, Op. 37 (1915)
Bryan Taylor, Paul Davidson, Toby Vaughn Kidd, Joseph Warner (basses); Frank Fleschner, Bryan Pinkall (tenors); Julia Scozzafava (mezzo)
Phoenix Chorale; Kansas City Chorale/Charles Bruffy
rec. 2014, Cathedral of St Peter the Apostle, Kansas City, Kansas, USA
Reviewed as a 24/96 download from eClassical
Pdf booklet includes sung texts (Cyrillic and English)
CHANDOS CHSA5148 SACD [75:34]
There are times when I think we are living in a golden
age of a cappella singing, both secular and sacred. A number
of first-rate recordings come to mind: from Norway, Immortal
Nystedt; from Denmark, music by Pelle
Gudmundsen-Holmgreen; from Latvia, Peteris Vasks’ Plainscapes;
from Russia, Valentin Silvestrov’s Sacred
Songs; and from the USA Alexander Grechaninov’s Passion
Week and Conspirare’s The
Sacred Spirit of Russia. What really impresses me
about those American choirs is that they sound so idiomatic that it’s
hard to believe they’re not native Russians.
I must single out the Phoenix and Kansas singers in the Grechaninov;
indeed, that was one of my Recordings of the Year in 2007.
At the time of writing – February 2016 – those forces, led
by the indefatigable Charles Bruffy, had just been awarded a Grammy
for their recording of Rachmaninov’s All-night Vigil.
Somehow I’d missed that one, so I decided to assess it in tandem
with this new version from Kaspars Putniņš and the Netherlands
Radio Choir. I was pleased to note that the latter is produced and engineered
by Jens Braun, whose recent recordings for BIS are among the best in
the business. The Chandos release was recorded by
SoundMirror, the company behind Manfred Honeck's Pittsburgh successes
and, most recently, Thierry Fischer's Mahler 1 from Utah.
Rachmaninov’s All-night Vigil - sometimes erroneously
referred to as his Vespers – is in fact a hybrid of three
Russian Orthodox services; Vespers (movements 1 to 6), Matins (7 to
14) and First Hour (15). There have been a number of well-regarded recordings
of the piece in recent years, two of which spring to mind: the first
is from Sigvards
Klava and the Latvian Radio Choir, the second from Paul
Hillier and the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir. Those are fine
Baltic ensembles, expertly led, and their collections are always worth
your time and money. Besides, they tend to get top-notch recordings,
too.
The Netherlands Radio Choir, founded after the Second World War, is
a 68-strong group with a number of world premičres to their name. That
makes them a good fit with Kaspars Putniņš, chief conductor of
the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, who is a tireless promoter
of contemporary choral works. That said, his repertoire is wide-ranging,
so Rachmaninov is well within his artistic purview. Incidentally, this
recording includes a filler, The Theotokos, Ever-Vigilant in Prayer,
which Rachmaninov composed in 1893. A precursor to the Vigil
in style it burns with a quick, fierce flame. An intriguing little bonus.
First impressions of Putniņš’ Vigil are entirely
positive. The bass and tenor soloists – Gert-Jan Alders and Matthew
Minter respectively – are ideally spaced at the start of O
come let us worship, and the choir’s response is both refined
and radiant. The alto Pierrette de Zwaan – who appears in Praise
the Lord, O my soul – is just as ravishing, the choral cadences
gentle but telling. Goodness, this is singing of the highest order;
weight and blend are well nigh perfect, as is the open, airy sound.
This may be a studio recording, but there’s breadth and depth
aplenty, with no obscuring echoes. Indeed, the ‘goose-bump quotient’
is very high, even at this early stage.
There’s an ear-pricking contrast between the men and women in
Blessed is the man – what a lovely, heartfelt dialogue
– and the ever-sensitive Putniņš grades and shades the music
with seamless skill. The fibrillations of O gladsome Light
are a joy to hear, and tenor Eyjólfur Eyjólfsson's voice rises like
swirls of incense both here and in the Nunc dimittis. Also,
choral climaxes are superbly focused, with no hint of grit or glare.
Vespers comes to a close with the now joyous, now calming, O Virgin
Mother of God, rejoice!
That is going to be a tough act to follow. At the start Bruffy’s
bass and tenor are clearly in a larger acoustic, and although his choirs
are fewer in number – 56 – the rounder, fuller sound they
produce makes them seem more plentiful. The sheer projection and weight
of these singers comes as something of a shock after the comparative
restraint and lightness of Putniņš’ team. SoundMirror's wonderfully
sonorous recording reinforces that impression. As for Bruffy’s
mezzo, Julia Scozzafava, she's not quite as striking as de Zwaan in
Praise the Lord, O my soul; the latter sings with a touch more
character and conviction here.
Minor caveats aside, this is a splendid account of Rachmaninov's masterpiece.
In particular, I was pleased to be reacquainted with the warmth and
gravitas that so thrilled and moved me in Passion Week; Putniņš’
singers can’t match that, but then their performance has a cooler,
loftier aspect that’s just as compelling. More controversial is
Bruffy’s very expansive reading. He clocks in at a whopping 75:34;
compare that with Klava (62:31), Hillier (53:56) and Putniņš (51:44).
That’s quite a disparity, but as with Klemperer and Celibidache
in Mahler’s and Bruckner’s Seventh respectively Bruffy’s
Vigil defies logic and the clock and emerges as something rather
special.
At this stage I’d say these two recordings are complementary,
and that both are well worth hearing. However, there’s something
extra in the Dutch performance – a palpable, all-encompassing
humility, perhaps – that resonates with me in a way that the American
one doesn’t. It helps that the BIS recording is so natural; with
it comes a thrilling intimacy that's harder to achieve in a larger-than-life
presentation such as SoundMirror's. Indeed, listening to these two releases,
cheek by jowl as it were, is a startling reminder of just how much engineering
and venue choices affect one’s perceptions of a given performance.
Matins begins with Glory be to God on high, a short and deceptively
gentle hymn whose contours are so lovingly mapped by Putniņš and
his choir. Praise ye the name of the Lord is rather more fervent;
there, too, you’ll hear singing of remarkable range and power.
Yes, musical shape and blend do matter, but it’s the singers’
degree of engagement with the texts that separates a good performance
from a great one. Just listen to Blessed art thou, O Lord,
which the Dutch deliver with overwhelming intensity. Once again, the
smaller scale of this recording encourages a sense of connection that,
in turn, makes for a very profound and personal musical experience.
And what telling interplay, what unanimity, they bring to Having
beheld the Resurrection.
It’s easy to see why Rachmaninov requested that the Nunc dimittis
be played at his funeral, for it's one of the most luminous things
he ever wrote. That said, the Magnificat is rather lovely too.
Putniņš’ control of the music's ebb and surge is masterly;
ditto his deft way with the rhythms of Glory be to God on high
and O queen victorious. Everything about this performance
is judicious and perfectly proportioned, and that includes the recording.
In other circumstances such an approach may seem tentative - anodyne,
even - but not here. In fact, it all feels so intuitive, so right,
that it’s difficult to imagine the Vigil being sung or
recorded in any other way.
Of course that’s not true, for this piece yields to a variety
of interpretations. As before, switching back to Bruffy requires some
readjustment. Suddenly we are confronted with a rich, rubied choral
sound; not only that, Bruffy's more leisurely pace reveals the score's
inner workings in a way that you won’t hear with the tighter,
more compact Putniņš. For that we must be grateful, but the slight
downside is that I was much more conscious of the American performance
than I was of the Dutch one. In general, Bruffy's approach strikes me
as more public, more overtly ceremonial, whereas Putniņš' is more
private and personal. In that sense the latter's performance reminds
me of a very fine Glagolitic Mass I reviewed
last year; there, too, greater inwardness brings unexpected rewards.
One could argue that the Americans come closer to what one might expect
to hear from a Russian choir – those soul-stirring basses, for
example – and the cathedral acoustic adds an aura to the sound
that you simply can’t mimic in a studio. Ultimately, though, Bruffy’s
Vigil – glorious in so many ways – does feel a
tad protracted towards the end. Also, his soloists just aren’t
as memorable as Putniņš’. Having just written that, and still
listening, the frisson generated by those dark, resonant voices
in Glory be to God on high left me in sudden disarray. Really,
in the presence of such splendour any cavils seem utterly redundant.
I'm pleased to report that the highest production values
prevail in both these releases. That goes for the liner-notes as well;
Bruffy's are by Vladimir Morosan, whose scholarly insights made
The Sacred Spirit of Russia such a rewarding experience, Putniņš’
by Andrew Huth. Sung texts and translations are supplied (Cyrillic and
English).
The Dutch bring emotional intensity to the Vigil, the Americans
weight and beauty; you must hear both.
Dan Morgan
twitter.com/mahlerei
Previous reviews (Chandos): John
Quinn and Nick
Barnard
