The Italian, all male
Renaissance polyphony group, Odhecaton
were new to me, but they have been around since 1998 and have a number of discs
behind them, as well as several awards.
Their latest recording, entitled De
Passione, consists of music by Franco-Flemish composers Josquin des Prez (c.1450/55–1521), Jacob
Obrecht (1457/8-1505), Loyset Compère (c.1440-1518) and Gaspar van Weerbecke (c.1445-after 1516), all
published by Ottaviano Petrucci in Venice in 1503. The 11 singers are directed by Paolo Da Col, and the motets they have
chosen for this collection all focus on texts relating to the passion and Holy
Week. The substantial works by Josquin (O Domine Iesu Christe, Miserere mei Deus, and
Qui velatus facie fuisti) are
familiar to me, and they receive assured and beautifully sustained performances
here. Compère’s equally substantial In nomine Iesu was new to me, however,
and is beautifully rich in texture, with Odhecaton exploiting the composer’s
use of the lower registers of all the voice parts. I really enjoyed the sound world of all male
voices, and the countertenors consistently avoided the common tendency for a
slightly hooty sound on top, blending perfectly with the lower voices. Obrecht’s subtle Parce Domine opens the disc, and van Weerbecke’s dark, sonorous Tenebrae factae sunt is an added
treat. This is followed on the disc by a
startling contrast – which certainly surprised me on first listening, as I
hadn’t read the notes beforehand.
Sardinian singer Clara Murtas
sings a solo traditional lament, O
tristu fatale die. The style is a
sudden change, but somehow finds a fitting place here, the mother of Jesus’
lament almost providing a release after the contained and controlled polyphony. To follow this and close the disc, Odhecaton
return with Josquin’s Miserere mei Deus. Highly recommended.
Sir Andrew Davis and the BBC Symphony Orchestra continue the series of Orchestral Works by Gustav
Holst (1874-1934) they took over following the sad death of Richard
Hickox. The latest volume contains two
works, The Mystic Trumpeter, and his
First Choral Symphony. Both works employ a soprano soloist, here the
great Susan Gritton, and they are
joined in the Choral Symphony by the BBC Symphony Chorus. The
Mystic Trumpeter is the shorter work here, and perhaps because of this, is
the more successful in my mind. The text
is by Walt Whitman, and Holst achieves a real sense of structure, guided by the
poem, building to suitable peaks, before subsiding into peace and tranquility
at its close. The First Choral Symphony, at over 50 minutes long, however, struggles
to maintain coherency for me. There is
great music here, and the first three movements succeed to a great extent in
creating a variety of textures and moods from the diverse texts by Keats – the
seven beats to a bar Baccahanal, the relaxed calm of the second movement’s Ode,
and the delicate orchestral textures at the close of the third movement. But having explored this variety, one gets
the sense that Holst didn’t quite know how to conclude this mammoth work, and
the finale dissapoints. However, the
performance here cannot be faulted and Gritton in particular is in fine form. Credit also to the BBC Symphony Chorus, who produce
a well-disciplined and rich sound throughout.
Another continuing Chandos
series with the BBC Symphony Orchestra
and Chorus, this time with Edward Gardner conducting two works by Karol
Szymanowski (1882-1937). His Stabat
Mater from 1925/6, with solo voices in addition to the chorus and orchestra, is
a striking and affecting work, with a stunningly beautiful lament from the solo
soprano (here impressively sung by Lucy Crowe), and a fiendish fourth movement for just female choral voices, later
joined by the female soloists.
Szymanowksi makes great use of these different forces, using choral
chanting, a duet between solo alto (Pamela Helen Stephen) and clarinet, and melody in the final sixth movement for the
solo soprano that is to die for. The
other piece here is the Choral Ballet, Harnasie,
which is rooted in the culture of the Podhale region in the Tatra mountains
in Poland. Whilst there are moments
reminiscent of Stravinsky and Janáček here, the overall effect is of a totally
individual sound, and without even looking at the texts, images of folk
dancing, revelry and wedding scenes are immediately conjured up. In fact the story is of a bride who is
abducted by a robber (Harnás). I can’t
profess to understanding Polish, but the BBC Symphony Chorus sound totally
convincing and authentically unison in their diction, which must have been a
considerable challenge. There is real
excitement and life in this music, which is fully expressed in this commanding
performance from all concerned.
