I Was Glad - Sacred Music of Stanford and Parry
Sir Charles Villiers STANFORD (1852-1924) Magnificat and
Nunc dimittis in A, Op. 12 (1880) [11:12]
Sir Hubert PARRY (1848-1918) I was glad (1911 version)
[6:61]
STANFORD Magnificat and Nunc dimittis in G, Op. 81 (1902) [8:15]
PARRY ‘Coronation’ Te Deum in D (1911) [14:25]
STANFORD Magnificat and Nunc dimittis in B flat, Op. 10 (1879)
[7:18]
PARRY Blest pair of Sirens (1887) [9:11]
STANFORD Magnificat and Nunc dimittis in C, Op. 115 (1909) [7:31]
PARRY (orch. Elgar) Jerusalem (1916) [3:03]
Carolyn Sampson (soprano); David Wilson-Johnson (bass)
Choir of The King’s Consort
The King’s Consort/Robert King
rec. 20-22 September 2012, St. Jude’s Church, London NW11. DDD
English texts included
VIVAT 101 [67:52]
This CD is noteworthy in two respects even before it’s inserted into
the player: it’s the one hundredth disc by Robert King and The King’s
Consort. With it they launch their new label, Vivat, which will issue
not only the ensemble’s future recordings but also CDs made by other
artists. Once you’ve put the CD into your audio system and pressed ‘play’
it quickly becomes apparent that this release is noteworthy for many
other reasons.
Throughout his career Robert King has been associated, at least on disc,
with music of the sixteenth- and seventeenth centuries. So it’s a slight
surprise to find him turning his attention to music from the turn of
the twentieth century. What is no surprise at all is to find that he
approaches the music with the same scholarly thoroughness as if it were
by, say, Vivaldi or Bach. So here, for example, we have all four of
Stanford’s sets of Evening Canticles in the composer’s own rarely-heard
orchestrations. We also get Parry’s celebrated coronation anthem, I
was glad, but we hear it not in the original version, written for
the 1902 Coronation of Edward VII, but in the version for the 1911 Coronation,
which means we get extra “Vivats” – not just those for King George V
but also those for his consort, Queen Mary. With the exception of Blest
pair of Sirens, which is played in the Novello edition
of c 1890, all the scores have been newly edited, either by King or
by the leading expert on both composers, Prof. Jeremy Dibble, who also
contributes an uncommonly interesting booklet note.
The scholarship has extended to the orchestral instruments also. For
example, Crispian Steel Perkins has sourced six trumpets of the period.
In fact, almost without exception the woodwind, brass and percussion
instruments were made between 1880 and 1923. Many of the stringed instruments
are considerably older than that. A list of all the instruments, including
details of where and when they were made, is provided. The organ, too,
is of the period. King has used the impressive 1892 ‘Father’ Willis
organ in Hereford Cathedral but rather than dubbing this in later it
was recorded simultaneously. Through some digital alchemy, its contribution,
played live, was relayed to the church where all the other musicians
were located and recorded with them; it sounds utterly convincing. The
orchestra is fairly substantial: the strings number 8/6/5/5/3 with double
woodwind and a full complement of the usual brass – though no less than
six trumpets are deployed – thrillingly - for I was glad and
the Parry Te Deum. I think it’s worth commenting on the forces in some
detail not least because so much trouble has been taken to assemble
them and to get the right – and authentic – sound. The one mild surprise
is that King doesn’t divide his fiddles right and left. This band accompanies
a choir of thirty-six singers (12/8/8/8) in which the alto section includes
three male singers. The size of the choir seems small and I wondered
how it would fare against the orchestra in the larger-scale Parry pieces
but I found that the balance worked well.
It’s good to hear all four sets of Stanford’s Evening Canticles. These
are staples of the Anglican Evensong repertory, and rightly so. Each
set is tuneful, memorable and constitutes a very satisfying response
to the texts in question. In the G major Magnificat Carolyn Sampson’s
warm, cultured tone sounds luxuriant in comparison with the boy trebles
that one is so accustomed to hearing but, of course, this is a very
different style of performance and Miss Sampson’s singing gives enormous
pleasure. And how wonderful to hear a harp rippling away in Stanford’s
orchestration! The piece gets a delightful, airy performance though
the rather grand doxology, in which brass, timpani and organ are prominent,
seems a little out of keeping with what has gone before – that’s a comment
on Stanford’s music, by the way, not on the performance. The Nunc dimittis
also features luxury casting with David Wilson-Johnson as a firm and
noble soloist. Happily, Stanford conceived a different and, to my ears,
rather more appropriate doxology for this canticle.
The A major canticles were originally conceived for orchestral accompaniment;
Stanford wrote them at the invitation of Sir John Stainer for the annual
Festival of the Sons of the Clergy at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Inspired
by the prospect of such a prestigious occasion and venue Stanford produced
a vigorous and confident Magnificat. Jeremy Dibble points out the influence
of Brahms and this is emphasised, I feel, by the orchestral writing.
Much of the Nunc dimittis could have been written by Brahms himself
and it’s noteworthy that Stanford repeats the first words of the canticle
immediately before the doxology. The use of the double choir in the
doxologies registers very well indeed in this performance. The B flat
and C major canticles both contain much fine and imaginative music and
they too are very well done by King and his musicians.
Turning to Parry, in two of the pieces this new disc comes into competition
with Neeme Järvi’s recent Parry disc for Chandos (review
review).
Actually, in the case of Jerusalem the competition is not direct
for Järvi opted for Parry’s own 1918 orchestration whereas King gives
us the more celebrated – and opulent – orchestration made by Elgar four
years later. I thought it was interesting to hear Parry’s own scoring,
which is far from negligible but I’m afraid it sounds a bit penny-plain
beside Elgar’s more imaginative creation. Once heard, for example, Elgar’s
wonderful upward rush on the strings to illustrate the “arrows of desire”
can’t be dislodged from the memory. One other point of interest in the
Järvi recording is that, for good reasons explained by Jeremy Dibble
in his note for that release, verse one was sung by a solo soprano with
the choir joining in for verse two. King chooses to have all his sopranos
sing verse one with the rest of the choir added for verse two. Is that
a hybrid version he offers? I think it works slightly better. One other
minor difference is that at the very end, for some reason that eludes
me, Järvi gets his choir to sustain their final chord right through
the short orchestral postlude. I dislike the effect. Happily, Robert
King is completely orthodox about this detail.
The other point of competition with Järvi is the Te Deum in D. Järvi
uses a full-sized modern symphony orchestra and a large choir. He’s
also rather more spacious overall, taking 17:06 compared with King’s
14:25. I see that when reviewing the Järvi disc John France liked this
piece rather more than did Nick Barnard. I wonder if Nick might revise
his opinion were he to hear Robert King’s take on it. There’s a lot
I like in Järvi’s treatment of the score but the lightness of touch
that King achieves, both through the use of smaller forces and somewhat
fleeter tempi is beneficial. So too is the greater clarity of texture
in the King performance. Parry was able to write for six trumpets, since
these were on hand for the coronation service but, in fact, his employment
of them is fairly restrained; they do make their collective presence
felt at the beginning and end, however, if not to the same extent as
in I was glad. There’s a lot of good music in this Te Deum
– and some that’s rather conventional, it must be admitted. I like the
atmospheric use of a semi-chorus at ‘Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Sabaoth’
and also the lyrical section, introduced by an alto soloist, at ‘When
Thou tookest upon Thee to deliver man’. Impressive too is the majestic
writing at ‘Thou sittest at the right hand of God’. This setting isn’t
Parry’s choral masterpiece – we’ll come to that in a minute – but it’s
too good to languish in complete neglect. A recording is most welcome
but two, especially when they are so contrasting, is doubly so.
As for Parry’s choral masterpiece, Blest pair of Sirens, well
here we find King is similarly fleet of foot. He takes just over nine
minutes to play this score. By contrast, Sir Adrian Boult took 10:55
in his 1966 LPO recording (EMI). That’s no longer available so far as
I know and in any case, despite the authority of Sir Adrian the sound
now shows its age and the London Philharmonic Choir’s singing is not
up to today’s standards. David Hill, in a big-scale recording made in
Winchester Cathedral, is pretty close to Boult in overall pacing, taking
10:45. Hill’s version is currently available from Australian Eloquence,
ELQ 4762443. Hill’s is a completely different style of performance to
King’s but the reason I mention it is because this is the one performance
on King’s disc over which I have reservations. I greatly appreciate
the clarity that King brings to the music – I’ve never before heard
so much of the eight-part choral writing in the technically masterful
closing section, ‘To live with him and sing in endless morn of light’.
Furthermore, I think the fleet tempi that King adopts and the lithe
textures mean that he conveys the enthusiasm, nay, the exaltation of
Parry’s music – and Milton’s words. However, there’s a price to be paid.
King is just a bit too swift; the performance sometimes sounds rather
too light on its feet and he doesn’t seem to mould the phrases in the
subtle way that Boult, for one, does. Compared with the Hill recording
there’s a welcome freshness but some of the grandeur is missing. Though
the Hereford Cathedral organ comes across well here - and elsewhere
on the disc - the imposing sound of the Winchester organ towards the
end of Hill’s performance, its pedals especially, adds an undeniable
frisson. Both performances have considerable merits, however,
and even though Hill’s moves me more I know I shall be returning to
the King version also.
There are no reservations about I was glad. The trumpets are
superb at the start and even though there may only be thirty-six of
them, King’s singers make quite an impact. The performance achieves
genuine grandeur – for instance at ‘Our feet shall stand in thy gates,
O Jerusalem’. It’s a resplendent, noble performance, which I found very
exciting.
This is a thrilling disc. Even if you look for more grandeur in Blest
pair of Sirens I hope you’ll find Robert King’s approach to the
piece refreshing – no Victorian cobwebs here! The performances are very
good indeed. I did wonder about the use of such a small choir but the
microphones assist the balance and I’ve no doubt that the softer tones
of the period instruments facilitate a better balance anyway. The recorded
sound produced by Adrian Peacock and David Hinitt reports the performances
splendidly but I’m sure that it’s not just the expertise of the engineers
that has produced so much clarity in these performances; much of that
is down to the skill of the musicians allied to the use of period instruments.
The documentation accompanying this release is comprehensive and most
interesting.
There’s some marvellous music here by two composers whose output is
still underrated in many quarters. The chosen pieces could scarcely
be better served than here. This is a fine way for The King’s Consort
to chalk up a century of discs and it’s a most auspicious launch for
their new label. Indeed, it seems appropriate to say “Vivat, Vivat!”
John Quinn
Without wishing to detract in any way from John Quinn's enthusiastic
review of Robert King's disc "I was glad" on his new label
- both the review and, by the sound of it, the performances, should
win new admirers for both composers - can I just correct one point.
John refers twice to thie disc containing "all four of Stanford's
sets of the Evening Canticles". In fact, Stanford set the Evening
Canticles nine times. That in F op.36 is, like those on the disc in
B flat, A, G and C, the last part of a complete setting of the Morning,
Communion and Evening Service. Also from a complete service is the very
late (pub. 1923) setting in D. Of just the Evening Canticles there is
the Magnificat & Nunc Dimittis on Gregorian Tones op.98 and two
very early settings in F (1872) and E flat (1873). Some of these works
have not been recorded at all to date.
However, the four on King's disc are the only ones which have an alternative
orchestral accompaniment. I am not suggesting that all nine on one disc
would not have amounted to overkill (and would not have left much space
for anything else). However, maybe Robert King would consider a future
disc, with organ accompaniment only, based around the other five settings,
interspersed with more Parry?
Chris Howell
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