GMCD 7200 You can order this CD in our E-Shop under Choral Music/Various Choirs Reviews *** Sound Clips***	My beloved Spake Music for Strings & Voices THE HAMPSTEAD SINGERS THE EMMANUEL CHAMBER ORCHESTRA MARK DENZA - conductor JEREMY FILSELL - organ  www.jeremyfilsell.com GARY WOOLF - flute [2] HANNAH GARNER - soprano [5] [10] JONATHAN ENGLISH - tenor [10] The Organ of Emmanuel Church, West Hampstead

Contents:

‡ PREMIER RECORDING § PREMIER RECORDING OF THIS ARRANGEMENT

DDD Total Time = 77.25   Recorded at: Emmanuel Church,West Hampstead, London, on 10 & 12 February, 2000

My beloved Spake

This album explores twentieth century English repertoire for choir accompanied by string orchestra and organ, with occasional augmentations for flute, harp, oboe, and piccolo. Of the two most substantial works, Frank Bridge’s A Prayer is recorded for the first time in the composer’s arrangement for organ and strings; while George Dyson’s hauntingly beautiful Hierusalem was written for a former organist of Emmanuel Church. Both pieces luxuriate in the building’s glowing acoustics, and the sturdy contributions of its vintage Walker organ.

Two familiar and cherished sacred compositions by Gerald Finzi; the Magnificat & God is gone up, receive an initial performance for disc in their versions with string accompaniment. Gustav Holst’s a cappella Ave Maria appears in a new mixed-voice arrangement by this album’s conductor, while Patrick Hadley’s exquisite miniature My beloved spake exploits the added instrumental resources to colourful effect.

The remaining works are by acclaimed carol composer, John Rutter, and feature two début recordings: the unaccompanied Choral Amen, and O how amiable are thy dwellings for soprano & tenor duet. Musica Dei donum is adorned with a poignant flute obbligato, while Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace and O be joyful in the Lord respectively display Rutter’s tranquil and boisterous musical personae. Fitting conclusion is bestowed in a serene valediction: The Lord bless you and keep you.

God is gone up (Gerald Finzi, 1901-1956)
Gerald Finzi spent most of his life in the English countryside, where he cultivated rare apple trees, and this imbued his music with its tranquil and intimate pastoral quality. Although influenced by Elgar, Parry, and Vaughan Williams, his output has a distinctive individuality, where musical imagery closely matches the verbal. Following early studies with Ernest Farrar, he became a pupil of Sir Edward Bairstow, the organist of York Minster. Through Bairstow, a noted composer for the church, Finzi came to know the Cathedral tradition, and his experience of what Herbert Howells termed the "immemorial sound of voices" endowed him with a rare fluency and felicity in the handling of them.

God is gone up was specially composed for the St. Cecilia’s Day Service at St. Sepulchre’s Church, Holborn, in 1951. Originally scored for choir and organ, Finzi subsequently expanded the accompaniment to include string orchestra, and the revised version was premièred at St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, on 20th May, 1952. A Times review described the new anthem as combining "jubilation with a not too emollient euphony;" while Finzi’s wife, Joy, present at both performances, remarked that "the strings gave point and clarity to the sound."

A thoroughly successful work, ranking amongst the greatest anthems of the Cathedral repertory, God is gone up has rightly established itself as a twentieth century classic of the genre; so it is perhaps surprising that the string version has not been recorded hitherto. Rich and fresh in detail, it is composed in straightforward ternary form, and is a piece of striking contrasts. Bairstow’s influence is apparent in the well-written organ part; full of life and character, it manages to employ orchestral colouring whilst retaining idiomatic integrity, and stretches the instrument’s resources.

Finzi’s delight in mystical texts of the seventeenth century is revealed in his choice of words from the Sacramental Meditations of metaphysical poet, Edward Taylor, which paraphrase in part the magnificent verse of Psalms 47 & 24. An opening fanfare captures the exultant spirit of the text in music of ceremonial splendour, with the trappings of Waltonian pageantry in its organ triplets. The unison choral entry echoes this glorious rising motif, encouraging an almost literal interpretation of the phrase "with a triumphant shout;" while a semiquaver flourish and jaunty staccato quavers from the strings underscore the mood of public celebration. Reflective balance is provided in a gently flowing central section, memorably described by Finzi’s biographer, Stephen Banfield, as "Arcadian nonchalance;" before the opening material returns, subtly modified, in a blaze of joy and affirmation.

God is gone up with a triumphant shout:
The Lord with sounding Trumpets’ melodies:
Sing praise, sing praise, sing praises out,
Unto our King sing praise seraphic-wise!
Lift up your Heads, ye lasting Doors, they sing,
And let the King of Glory enter in.

Methinks I see Heaven’s sparkling courtiers fly,
In flakes of Glory down him to attend,
And hear Heart-cramping notes of Melody
Surround his Chariot as it did ascend;
Mixing their Music, making ev’ry string
More to enravish as they this tune sing.                                                                              (Edward Taylor, c. 1646-1729)

Musica Dei donum (John Rutter, b. 1945)
John Rutter’s musical training began as a boy chorister at Highgate School, where he was a contemporary of John Tavener, and continued at Clare College, Cambridge, where he later became Director of Music. He was still an undergraduate when his first compositions were published, and he went on to assist Sir David Willcocks in editing and arranging the irrepressible Carols for Choirs. Commissions and conducting engagements have taken him all over the world, and he has both directed and edited numerous outstanding recordings with the Cambridge Singers. His abundant compositional output is predominantly choral, featuring extended Gloria, Requiem, and Magnificat settings alongside countless smaller scale works, and his Christmas carols, many of which use his own texts, have rapidly become very popular. The accessibility and direct appeal of his music lie in lyrical melodies, unashamedly tonal harmony, colourful word painting, and an immediate communication of sentiment and language, reflecting consummate technical mastery, and his sense of both reverence and fun.

Musica Dei donum was written in response to an invitation from Tim Brown, Rutter’s successor as Director of Music at Clare College, Cambridge. It was first performed by the Chapel Choir, under Brown’s direction, at St. John’s, Smith Square, London, in November 1998, during a concert celebrating Clare College’s rich musical talent. Shortly afterwards, the piece was incorporated as Rutter’s contribution to A Garland for Linda: a musical memorial by nine contemporary British composers to the wife of former Beatle, Paul McCartney.

The anonymous Latin text of Musica Dei donum is known only from a musical setting of it by Lassus, first published in a volume of that composer’s Cantiones sacrae in 1594. Its age-old theme, extolling the power of music, is ingeniously illustrated in Rutter’s highly unusual juxtaposition of solo flute and otherwise unaccompanied mixed choir. Introducing and commenting on each phrase sung by the choir, the flautist also perhaps represents the spirit of music itself, which, according to the words, "moves the very trees and wild beasts." Accordingly, the soloist inhabits a highly expressive, impressionistic sound world, reminiscent of Debussy and Ravel, with an improvisational flavour of rhapsody and freedom. The gentle choral entry resembles an invocation, and instantly succumbs to the flute’s beguiling magic in comparably luscious eight-part harmonies that display contrasting rhythmic and dynamic reticence. Never rising above mezzo piano, the singers conclude with a ninefold repetition of the word "musica", fading on to a hushed, low-pitched chord, over which the flautist floats a final, delicate obbligato.

Musica Dei donum optimi                     Music, the gift of the supreme God,
trahit homines, trahit deos;                    draws men, draws gods;
Musica truces mollit animos                 Music makes savage souls gentle
tristesque mentes erigit.                       and uplifts sad minds.
Musica vel ipsas arbores                     Music moves the very trees
et horridas movet feras.                      and wild beasts.

My beloved spake (Patrick Hadley, 1899-1973)

Patrick Hadley studied at Cambridge, and then with Vaughan Williams and Adrian Boult at the Royal College of Music, where he joined the teaching staff in 1925. He returned to Cambridge as a lecturer in 1938, and subsequently became Professor of Music from 1946 to 1962. His small but impressive compositional output belongs broadly to the English pastoral tradition, and includes a handful of large-scale choral works which reveal a delicate and lyrical talent; reflecting his enthusiam for folk-song, and for the music of Delius.

Hadley’s popular anthem, My beloved spake, with words from the Song of Solomon, was written in 1936 for the wedding of his friend and former RCM student, Ursula Grotrian, and their correspondence gives a detailed account of its origins. Following a serious injury sustained on active service during the First World War, Hadley’s right leg had been amputated below the knee, and an artificial wooden limb fitted. In his own words, he was therefore "all but totally ignorant of the ways of the organ", and sought advice from the organist of Ripon Cathedral, where the marriage took place, on adapting the accompaniment for his instrument. Always referred to by Hadley as "my beloved spook", it is dedicated to Ursula in the autograph manuscript with the caption "Upon an Occasion of Some Importance". The published version slightly lengthened his intentionally concise setting, which endeavoured not to overbuden the original performers. However, his consideration failed to prevent a brawl in the tenor section during rehearsal, with the bride reporting that there was a black eye on the wedding day.

My beloved spake has understandably kept its place in the Cathedral repertoire, and the sensitivity of its word-setting is proof of Hadley’s love for the text. Separate, highly idiomatic accompaniments for piano and organ are provided in the vocal edition, and the work is also scored for full orchestra, and for strings with harp. This recording amalgamates the string and organ versions with the piccolo, flute, and oboe parts from the orchestral score. In the predominantly a cappella central section, these three woodwind instruments are brilliantly deployed to depict "the time of the singing of birds;" revealing Hadley’s fascination with avian melody in a shrill vignette, worthy of Messiaen. As the strings re-enter for "The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs," all twelve tones are revolved in the space of two fructuous bars; before the piece returns to safer harmonic territory with a final climax of rapturous intensity, from which music and words gently melt "away." Hadley’s own assessment illustrates his legendary wit, and was prompted by a student enquiring whether My beloved spake was in arch form: "It’s two bloody great orgasms with a choir bit in between!"

My beloved spake, and said unto me:
Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth;
the time of the singing of birds is come,
and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs,
and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

(The Song of Solomon; chapter 2, verses 10-13)

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace (John Rutter, b. 1945)

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace was written in 1980 as one of a group of three anthems commissioned by the Texas Choral Directors’ Association. Originally scored for tenors and basses in four parts, accompanied by piano, Rutter subsequently created an SATB version with organ accompaniment, alongside an orchestration for strings and harp — but in both vocal settings, all three accompaniments are completely interchangeable. This recording makes fullest use of the available resources by combining mixed voices with orchestra.

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace is an expressive and beautifully-crafted setting of words by St. Francis of Assisi, immortalised by Margaret Thatcher on the steps of number 10, Downing Street. Rutter’s intuitive responsiveness to the text produces a musical supplication of deep and penetrating tenderness, in which he acknowledges the influence of Stephen Sondheim and Mahler. Against a backdrop of hushed strings and lilting harp arpeggios, the soprano entry breathes a spirit of gentleness and serenity, and the work builds to a ravishing emotional climax on the phrase "born to eternal life". The spontaneous freshness of the choral writing, condensed within an enchanting miniature of just three minutes, makes this piece ideally suited for liturgical use; a consideration which would doubtless have appealed to its commissioners.

Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace;
Where there is hatred, let me bring love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is is sadness, joy;
and all for thy mercy’s sake.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

(St. Francis of Assisi, 1181-1226)

Hierusalem (George Dyson, 1883-1964)

Sir George Dyson combined composition with an influential career, extending over half a century, as teacher, administrator, broadcaster, and writer (e.g. The New Music, 1924 — a landmark in music criticism). An able mechanic and motor cyclist, he was also author of the Army’s official manual on the use of the hand grenade. (Not such a surprise: as Stephen Banfield has pointed out, a musician is ideally qualified for the timing and hand/eye co-ordination required). From modest origins in Halifax, Yorkshire, he won a scholarship to the Royal College of Music, where he studied under Stanford. After some thirty years as a public school music-master (latterly at Winchester) he returned to the RCM as Director in 1938 — a post he held until his retirement in 1952. Mainly remembered now for his church music and, occasionally, for The Canterbury Pilgrims (one of several large-scale choral works); Dyson deserves to be better known as a composer of some versatility, whose richly inventive harmonies and textures form a distinct, yet unmistakably English musical language.

The words of Hierusalem are adapted from an anonymous sixteenth century poetic reworking of St. Augustine’s Meditations. Dyson’s setting was written during his post-retirement Indian summer, and in an idiom, though unashamedly "English pastoral", that is full of colour, fantasy, and warmth. It is scored for soprano solo and chorus, with harp, organ, and strings, divided throughout into solo quartet and tutti ensemble. The soprano (Isobel Baillie at the first performance in 1956) represents the individual soul’s yearning for final peace and fulfilment in the Heavenly City; the choir, the long journey of humanity.

An aura of unsophisticated mysticism pervades the music of Hierusalem, and the Celestial City first appears in a mirage of overlapping string configurations. The mists disperse as the soprano, her innocence symbolised in pentatonic phrases, expresses a longing for the transcendental world evoked by the chorus. Happy instrumental touches abound as Dyson skilfully builds up the drama and colour: a pilgrims’ procession approaches to repeated sighing phrases from the quartet; the precious stones glint and glitter in delicate harp arpeggios and spiky string semiquavers; and finally, the gates are flung open with a sunburst of sound, as harp glissandi accompany the choir’s first ecstatic shouts of "Hierusalem!" Now the picture begins to glow in rainbow hues ("Thy saints are crowned with glory great") and as the company of heaven is numbered in terms of childlike candour, the music assumes an almost Pre-Raphaelite quality of chastely sensuous sweetness. The climactic final stanza is marked by a telling stroke of theatre, as the soloist’s entreating cries of "Hierusalem" are ringingly echoed by the choir, bolstered to thrilling effect by full organ. Gradually, the opening mists close in again, and the soprano has the last word as she soars up to her top B on "song," to muted chorus accompaniment, before the vision fades on a note of rapt contemplation.

Hierusalem was composed in 1956 for Harold Darke and the St. Michael’s Singers, and was first recorded by the present-day St. Michael’s Singers, under Darke’s successor, Jonathan Rennert. In their youth, both Darke and Rennert served as organists of Emmanuel Church, West Hampstead, and Darke oversaw the installation of the current organ, featured on this album, in 1910.

Hierusalem, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?

O happy harbour of the saints,
O sweet and pleasant soil!
In thee no sorrow may be found,
No grief, no care, no toil.

Thy walls are made of precious stones,
Thy bulwarks diamonds square;
Thy gates are of right orient pearl,
Exceeding rich and rare.

Thy houses are of ivory,
Thy windows crystal clear;
Thy tiles are made of beaten gold —
O God, that I were there!

Thy vineyards and thy orchards are
Most beautiful and fair,
Full furnished with trees and fruits
Most wonderful and rare;

Thy gardens and thy gallant walks
Continually are green;
There grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.

Quite through the streets with silver sound
The flood of life doth flow,
Upon whose banks on every side
The wood of life doth grow.

There trees for evermore bear fruit,
And evermore do spring;
There evermore the angels sit,
And evermore do sing.

Hierusalem, my happy home,
When shall I come to thee?
When shall my sorrows have an end?
Thy joys when shall I see?

Thy saints are crowned with glory great;
They see God face to face;
They triumph still, they still rejoice:
Most happy is their case.

There David stands with harp in hand
As master of the choir;
Ten thousand times that man were blest
That might this music hear.

Our Lady sings Magnificat
With tune surpassing sweet,
And all the virgins bear their parts,
Sitting about her feet.

Te Deum doth Saint Ambrose sing,
Saint Austin doth the like;
Old Simeon and Zachary
Have not their songs to seek.

There Magdalene hath left her moan,
And cheerfully doth sing
With blessed saints, whose harmony
In every street doth ring.

Hierusalem, Hierusalem,
God grant I yet may share
Thy holy light, thy tuneful song,
Thy bliss beyond compare.

A Choral Amen (John Rutter, b. 1945)

In its Hebrew origin, "Amen" translates as "So be it", and is the terminal, corroborative word of prayer in Jewish, Christian, and Muslim worship, setting the seal on an act of faith. Many composers have extended it into a lengthy creation, such as the fugal "Amen Chorus" of Handel’s Messiah. Shorter polyphonic settings were written by English composers from the sixteenth century onwards, as part of the Preces & Responses of the Anglican Offices; countless others have been written for various liturgical purposes since the Reformation, including the well-known "Dresden Amen".

John Rutter’s Choral Amen was written in 1977 for the Chapel Choir of Clare College, Cambridge, of which he was then director, and was intended for use at the close of services where music was predominantly English romantic. Despite growing international fame, he had quixotically resolved never to exploit the opportunities for self-promotion afforded by his post, and consequently employed a pseudonym. This delectable gem might thus have remained peculiar to the repertoire of Clare College, had it not been sung at the composer’s wedding, in the presence of OUP’s music editor, Christopher Morris, who evidently decided "I can’t believe it’s not Rutter!" A copy was surreptitiously appropriated from the choir-stalls, and the composer only became aware of his publisher’s interest when proofs and a contract for publication dropped on to his doormat a few weeks later.

Recorded here for the first time, A Choral Amen is richly scored for eight-part mixed voices, reflecting Rutter’s love of the a cappella medium, and evokes with wondrous nostalgia the golden renaissance of English church music, epitomised by Stanford and Wood. Echoing this former composer’s final "Amen" from his double choir motet Coelos ascendit hodie, its opening contrapuntal entries fan out from a single unison E. The smoothly flowing melodic lines are skilfully interwoven, and grow from a pianissimo start to reach their majestic climax over a high dominant pedal in both bass parts, surmounted by exhilarating top G sharps from first sopranos and first tenors. As the work gracefully subsides to its peaceful conclusion, the soaring baritone phrase which ushers in the relative minor is a moment of touching, heartfelt poignancy.

A Prayer (Frank Bridge, 1879-1941)

Frank Bridge studied violin and composition at the Royal College of Music, where a scholarship won in 1899 enabled him to work under Stanford for four years. He quickly made a professional reputation as an outstanding conductor and chamber music player, playing viola with the English string quartet until 1915. Bridge’s musicianship made it possible for him to conduct the most difficult programmes at short notice, and Henry Wood called on him as a deputy for Promenade Concerts when he himself was incapacitated. His importance as a composer came to be recognised only a generation after his death, largely thanks to the efforts of his only pupil, Benjamin Britten.

A Prayer, by the 15th century Augustinian monk, Thomas à Kempis, is Bridge’s only work for chorus and orchestra. The text — a fervent plea for inner peace and sanctuary — reflects his anxiety over the First World War. He was greatly troubled by the endless slaughter, though the music conveys little of the personal anguish he suffered. Friends have recalled how, during the darkest days of conflict, he would wander the streets of Kensington, unable either to sleep or to direct his thoughts towards composition.

Given this pacifist interpretation, it is not surprising that Bridge delayed orchestration of A Prayer until October 1918, over two years after he had sketched the vocal score. By this time, the end of hostilities was in sight, and publication, then a first performance, followed closely upon the signing of the Armistice. Bridge conducted the work’s première at the Royal Albert Hall early in 1919.

A Prayer is lavishly orchestrated, but Bridge — no doubt with an eye on the financial practicalities of staging a performance — also prepared a version for strings and organ, recorded here for the first time. The choral writing, though expressive, is, apart from the two main climaxes, the model of restraint, in keeping with the contemplative nature of most of the text. Conceived in neatly engineered verse form, it owes much in the breadth of its phrasing and harmonic pacing to the example of Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius; and in particular, the semi-chorus writing of the earlier work. The burden of musical development and colour rests with the orchestra. Some indication of the harmonic experiments that Bridge was by this time already exploring in other pieces can be found in the initial eloquent chromaticism, and the dramatic outburst at the climax "to be despised". The work ends, however, in calm resolution, radiantly scored.

Grant me Thy grace, most merciful Jesus, that it may be with me,
and may labour with me, and continue with me to the end.

Grant me always to will and desire that which is most acceptable to Thee,
and which pleaseth Thee best.

Let Thy will be mine, and let my will always follow Thine
and agree perfectly therewith,

Grant that I may die to all things that are in the world,
and for Thy sake love to be despised and not to be known in this world.

Grant that I may rest in Thee above all things that can be desired,
and that my heart may be at peace in Thee.

Thou art the true peace of the heart, Thou art its only rest;
out of Thee all things are irksome and restless.

In this very peace which is in Thee, the one supreme Eternal Good,
I will sleep and take my rest.

(Thomas à Kempis, c. 1380-1471)

O be joyful in the Lord (John Rutter, b. 1945)

O be joyful in the Lord was composed in 1984 for Gordon McMillan and his choir of the First United Methodist Church in Lubbock, Texas; the technical ability of their organist at that time is reflected in the flamboyance of the accompaniment. It was subsequently incorporated as the opening movement of Psalmfest: a large-scale compilation of nine separate psalm settings written over a period of some twenty years, and first performed as a sequence in 1993, under Rutter’s direction. The accompaniment was scored in two parallel versions: for full orchestra, and for chamber ensemble of three woodwind instruments, harp, organ, and optional percussion; these have been judiciously intermingled, and the flute & piccolo parts meticulously doctored to facilitate performance by the forces available for this recording.

O be joyful in the Lord takes its text from Psalm 100, better known to Anglican churchgoers as the Jubilate, one of the designated canticles for the service of Matins. A suitably jovial and buoyant approach is immediately established with the juxtaposition of three-beat rhythms in the choir against two-beat patterns in the organ and strings, typical of Rutter’s breezily syncopated style. Flute and piccolo dovetail in nimble arpeggio figurations, shared with the harp, yielding a sparkling descant; while the alternation of pizzicato and tremolando effects in the strings increases their dramatic potential. A laudatory harp glissando embellishing the word "praise" initiates the transition to a contrasting central section of sweetness and tranquillity, where the organ provides a gently sustained chordal foundation. The dropping fourths and fifths of "thankful" and "gracious" form a meek vocal genuflection, giving perfect emphasis to those significant words. With the return of the twinkling flute arabesques, all is energy and exaltation once again, and the piece presses on through a fortissimo doxology to its rousing conclusion.

O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands:
Serve the Lord with gladness,~
and come before his presence with a song.
Be ye sure that the Lord he is God:
it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves;
we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
O go your way into his gates with thanksgiving,
and into his courts with praise:
Be thankful unto him, and speak good of his Name.
For the Lord is gracious, his mercy is everlasting:
and his truth endureth from generation to generation.
O be joyful in the Lord, all ye lands.
Glory be to the Father;
Glory be to the Son:
and to the Holy Ghost;
As it was in the beginning,
is now, and ever shall be:
world without end. Amen.

(Psalm 100)

Ave Maria (Gustav Holst, 1874-1934)

Gustav Holst began musical life conducting village choirs near his home town of Cheltenham, and joined the Royal College of Music in 1893 as a composition pupil of Stanford. His further studies there included piano and organ, but the onset of neuritis in his right hand caused him to adopt the trombone as his principal instrument, thus enriching his practical knowledge of the orchestra. In 1903, he began teaching, and two years later became director of music at St. Paul’s Girls’ School, Hammersmith; a post he held throughout his career. His prolific compositional output was primarily concerned with vocal music; even his most famous orchestral work, The Planets, draws to its awe-inspiring conclusion with a wordless chorus of extraordinary aural imagination.

Written and published in 1900, Holst’s radiant setting of the Roman Catholic prayer Ave Maria was originally scored as an unaccompanied eight-part motet for double female choir. He had not long completed his RCM studies, and was earning a meagre living playing the trombone in a touring opera orchestra. It was the first of his compositions to attract public attention, being commended by the Times critic as "scholarly", and earning the approval of his lifelong friend and musical confidant, Vaughan Williams. In a biography of her father, Imogen Holst declares that "the Ave Maria was undoubtedly the best thing he had yet written . . . . . his first mature work." She also recounts how the discovery of a pair of consecutive fifths in the printed score "was so upsetting that it cast a gloom over the whole day" — a sentiment with which all conscientious students of harmony will surely identify!

Ave Maria displays a mastery of traditional techniques, and evokes archaic styles without descending into pastiche, taking the Venetian cori spezzati as a model for its layout of the voices. Rooted in the harmonic language of the nineteenth century, this overtly romantic piece demonstrates Holst’s considerable skill and assurance in handling the intricate part-writing of the double chorus. Despite the evident influence of Verdi, a few personal touches, such as unusual shifts of tonality, the use of seventh chords, and the piling up of contrapuntal entries, give hints of his later mature style. Breaking away from the heady chromaticism of Wagner, and the stolidness of Victorian church music, it finds a greater freedom in its use of dissonance within diatonic harmony. Holst dedicated this moving and tender work to the memory of his mother, who had died when he was only seven years old.

Mark Denza’s mixed-voice arrangement was written for the Hampstead Singers, and first performed under his direction during the patronal festival at St. Mary’s, Holly Place, on 15th August, 1995. It has since been widely performed by the choir of Winchester Cathedral, conducted by David Hill, and is recorded here for the first time. Holst’s original key, double choir formation, and thrilling top B flats have all been retained, alongside many of the existing textures; but the expanded tessitura allows internal contrapuntal detail to be heard with far greater clarity where all eight voices combine for the majestic climaxes, and at the final, sonorous "Amen."

Ave Maria, gratia plena! Dominus tecum.                          Hail Mary, full of grace! The Lord is with thee.
Benedicta tu in mulieribus,                                                Blessed art thou amongst women,
et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Jesus.                              and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.                 
Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis. Amen                                 Holy Mary, pray for us. Amen.

O how amiable are thy dwellings (John Rutter, b. 1945)

O how amiable are thy dwellings was written in 1994 for Carlyle Weiss, one of Rutter’s many American friends and contacts, undergoing a multifaceted genesis common to several of his works. Originally composed for mixed SATB choir, it has since been published in that form; but first appeared in print as the penultimate movement of Psalmfest, in a revised duet version for soprano and tenor soloists, of which this is the première recording. Orchestration in both cases is for two flutes, harp, and strings, evoking a decidedly "English pastoral" atmosphere, reminiscent of Vaughan Williams’ identically scored Fantasia on Greensleeves.

The text of O how amiable are thy dwellings is derived from the Book of Psalms — that fertile source of inspiration for innumerable composers — and reflects on the soul’s longing to reach its heavenly abode. Fittingly, this tranquil setting is cast in the paradisal timbre of E major, home to the Elysian Fields of Handel’s I know that my Redeemer liveth, and a key which has nurtured some of Rutter’s most sublime utterances. Soprano and tenor operate on an equal footing; beginning with shared antiphonal phrases, before joining forces in a mood of increasing elation. The flowing melodic contour enhances the spiritual optimism of the words, with the final cadence switching unexpectedly to C sharp major, after the home key has been firmly re-established.

O how amiable are thy dwellings, thou Lord of hosts!
My soul hath a desire and longing to enter into the courts of the Lord:
my heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God.
Yea, the sparrow hath found her an house,
and the swallow a nest where she may lay her young:
even thy altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.
Blessed are they that dwell in thy house: they will be alway praising thee.
Blessed is the man whose strength is in thee: in whose heart are thy ways.
O Lord God of hosts, hear my prayer: hearken, O God of Jacob.
Behold, O God our defender, and look upon the face of thine Anointed.
For one day in thy courts is better than a thousand.
I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God,
than to dwell in the tents of ungodliness.
For the Lord God is a light and defence:
the Lord will give grace and worship,
and no good thing shall he withhold from them that live a godly life.
O Lord God of hosts, blessed is the man that putteth his trust in thee.

(Psalm 84; verses 1-5 & 8-13)

Magnificat (Gerald Finzi, 1901-1956)
Finzi began work on his Magnificat in 1952, shortly after completing the orchestration of God is gone up. His first overseas commission, it was "written for Iva Dee Hiatt and Robert Beckwith and the choirs of Smith and Amherst Colleges, Northampton, Massachusetts," and received its première at their candlelit Christmas vespers service in 1952. The first British performance followed at London’s Wigmore Hall in May 1953, accompanied by an electronic Hammond organ, which the Times reviewer pronounced "a useful but abominable instrument." Denis Williams’s arrangement for string orchestra, recorded here for the first time, was based on the original organ part, and completed in July 1954, predating Finzi’s fuller orchestration by some two years. Whilst faithfully adhering to existing textures, Williams’s scoring is remarkably adept, and the richness and warmth of the string writing significantly enhance the music’s expressiveness. On this recording, the strings have been discreetly augmented by Finzi’s orchestral organ part, which, though employed sparingly, adds valuable sonority and gravitas at key moments.

Drawn from St. Luke’s Gospel, the Magnificat has always been one of the most familiar and well-loved of scriptural texts, and musical versions abound. Finzi’s wife, Joy, observed that "Gerald, having had so many years of Church music background & the innumerable dreary automatic magnificats finds it hard to throw any new light on the words — the orange is sucked dry." Evidently, the fact that the text had been so frequently set, by countless others, challenged Finzi to do it justice in his own way.

The Magnificat is accordingly enlivened by many a sure touch of word-painting — the fine, striding opening theme, which always reaches its climacteric on "magnify," returns refrain-like, and on the final occasion is sung meditatively by two women soloists in turn: it is, after all, the Virgin’s song. Likewise, the second subject signifies "lowliness" or humility by dipping downward, as if bowing the head, and is recapitulated for "his mercy;" while a third motif in the lower strings marches through the choral repetition-cum-diminuendo of "blessed," and the identical treatment of "for ever" at the canticle’s conclusion. Scherzo topics join battle in forceful marcato as fast staccato triplets scatter the proud, strong-armed descending sevenths topple the mighty from their seat, and the rich slink away empty to the hollow, comfortless sound of the tritone (the "devil-in-music.") As this Magnificat was not intended for standard liturgical use, it eschews a concluding Gloria, and closes instead with a final Amen reminiscent of the sublime resolution to Lo, the full, final sacrifice. Finzi had been working under severe pressure of time, and his son, Christopher, recalls this section being written in the car! After the vigorous, extrovert treatment which precedes it, this adagio "Amen" forms a quiet, reflective coda to the piece.

My soul doth magnify the Lord,
and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.
For he hath regarded the lowliness of his handmaiden.
For behold, from henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For he that is mighty hath magnified me, and holy is his name.
And his mercy is on them that fear him throughout all generations.
He hath shewed strength with his arm;
he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He hath put down the mighty from their seat,
and hath exalted the humble and meek.
He hath filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he hath sent empty away.
He, remembering his mercy, hath holpen his servant Israel,
as he promised to our forefathers, Abraham and his seed, for ever.
Amen.

(Luke; chapter 1, verses 46-55)

The Lord bless you and keep you (John Rutter, b. 1945)
The Lord bless you and keep you was composed in 1981 for the memorial service of Edward Chapman, erstwhile Director of Music at Highgate School in London: John Tavener, a fellow pupil, wrote his Funeral Ikos for the same event. Rutter’s affectionate esteem for his former teacher, who had been a source of inspiration and encouragement, radiates throughout this entrancing benediction, which neatly encapsulates his stylistic charm. Cordially admired and cherished amongst church musicians, it has been widely performed, and was chosen by the Queen Mother to conclude her hundredth birthday celebrations at St. Paul’s Cathedral.

The Lord bless you and keep you draws its familiar text from the Old Testament book of Numbers, and is scored for mixed voice choir, with accompaniment for string orchestra, as recorded here, or organ. Framed in the luxuriant key of G flat, the smoothly expressive undulations from muted violins create a lustrous sonic reservoir, over which the captivating soprano melody glides with swanlike grace and elegance. An effortless stepping movement is maintained, save for a rising fifth which brings vocal "shine" to that crucial word at every instance. The Lord’s countenance is lifted up by sopranos and altos with an illuminating modulation to the distantly related key of C minor; emulated by tenors and basses a semitone higher, in classic Broadway fashion. A peaceful dominant ninth chord launches us into extended, melismatic Amens, where the voices break into counterpoint for the first time. Glorious, crowning fulfillment is reached with the sopranos’ immaculately prepared top A flat, from which conjugally linked floating sixths in altos and tenors pave the way toward a final chord of mellifluous serenity.

The Lord bless you and keep you:
The Lord make his face to shine upon you
and be gracious unto you:
The Lord lift up the light of his countenance upon you
and give you peace. Amen.

(Numbers; chapter 6, verse 24)

Page revised Friday May 25 2007