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Spirit, Symbolism, and Sonority
Spirit, symbolism and sonority. These are the three words I entreat you to keep in mind during tonight's concert.
Spirit because there is a special poignancy in the choral music surrounding the solemn feasts of Good Friday and Easter.
Symbolism because the programming of this concert, the physical movement of the choir, and the inclusion of young voices, are intentional aspects of this concert's conceptualization. And
Sonority because the piece chosen to conclude tonight's concert is a work of rare power, not so much in its rhythms or even its melodies, but in its harmonies -- its stark blocks of sound juxtaposed abruptly with lush, rich chords.
Spirit. Despite its name (which came from the site of our premiere concert in 1994), St. Martin's Chamber Choir is not affiliated with any denomination or religion. Yet most of the world's greatest choral music was written for the Christian church, especially surrounding the celebration of its major feasts. So the majority of our repertoire is sacred; and, rather than eschew this association, we have normally given it full voice with a Lenten/Easter concert at this time of year, much like our annual Holiday concert near Christmas. And, although we have occasionally been mistaken for a church choir due to our name, and perhaps my programming, I would not change the tenor or quality of our repertoire for anything, given its special poignancy, and given my particular specialty as a musicologist focused on the history of sacred choral music.
Symbolism. The placement of the choir in the gallery at the beginning of the concert is not just for gratuitous effect, but because I wish to fill the listener with a sense of having come through a time of anguish -- of having "put behind us" the solemnities of Lent, like a fading memory. Similarly, the next position which the choir takes up -- ranged antiphonally on either side of the audience -- is also a symbolic enveloping of the listener in the sheer physical joy of the music, hopefully giving not just a detached, intellectualized view of rejoicing, but a tangible one, as the two separate choirs exchange melodies like children shouting while at play. And finally, the collaboration of St. Martin's with the advanced chamber choir of Arvada West High School -- ably directed by one of our own singers, Chris Maunu, and with whom we have had the pleasure of working this school year by way of a unique educational residency -- is a symbol of new birth, like Easter itself. Choirs like St. Martin's will increasingly rely on the talent and expertise of young singers currently in training, such as these enthusiastic students. We wish to do what we can to assist and encourage this development, and we take this charge very seriously.
Sonority. Edmund Rubbra (1901-1986), a student of Gustav Holst and Ralph Vaughan Williams at the Royal College of Music, can be seen as a precursor of such modern composers as John Tavener and Arvo Pärt in the following ways: 1) his music is essentially vocal in character, even the instrumental works that make up the largest part of his output; and 2) his inspiration shows a strong mystical inclination. Like his teacher Holst, his sensibilities emigrated eastwards throughout his life. In 1948 he converted from Anglicanism to Roman Catholicism; and from thence his interests spread to Buddhism, Taoism, and Chinese and Indian classical music. From Vaughan Williams he inherited an abiding interest in 16th century polyphony -- particularly that of Monteverdi. Fused together, these aspects of his character and artistic sensibilities produce a sonorous eclecticism that is amply illustrated in his St. Dominic Mass. And I ask you to dwell uppermost on sonority, because it is chiefly in this quality that the
Missa in Honorem Sancti Dominici (to use its full, Latin title) is most remarkable and moving. Stark walls of sound (the beginning of the
Kyrie) contrast mightily with melancholy, deeply mystical melodies (exchanged between altos and tenors in the
Christe section). Polyphonic texture abruptly adjoins homophonic declarations throughout the
Gloria. Austere open-fifth harmonies (the beginning of the Credo, where the focus is on God the Father) suddenly sweeten into lush chords of rich beauty (at
"Et in Spiritum Sanctum" where the focus turns to the Holy Spirit). Rarely does a tempo establish itself for more than a few bars before a sudden change, providing for vivid word-painting and sonic imagery. Cadences appear abruptly and take the breath away by their brevity. It is a work of unusual power and mysticism, and, though not directly related to Easter, it provides a fitting conclusion to tonight's exploration of Spirit, Symbolism and Sonority.
Timothy J. Krueger
April 2008
© 2008 Timothy J. Krueger |