While this intriguing Judaeo-Christian programme may not fit too well
on the shelves of old-style, repertoire-led collectors, it lives up to
Tenebrae’s stated core values of “passion and precision”.
Symphony of Psalms, which opens the anthology, seems less concerned
with the first of those attributes, at least initially. The expert choir
(featuring the female voices which Stravinsky viewed as second best) is
relatively modest in size, the instrumental cohort placed further back
than you might be used to. Nor is there any attempt to disguise the
relatively confined acoustic. That said, everything is wonderfully clean
and sharp-etched so that you never feel short-changed. And the
timeless, implacable quality of the invention is not the only aspect
highlighted as the music proceeds. The second movement brings not only
flawless intonation from the woodwinds of the BBC Symphony Orchestra but
eruptive, even muscular passion from the singers. The Psalm 150 setting
works wonderfully too, finally combining glinting clarity with the
trance-like rapture which can get lost in squeaky-clean performances.
Next up is the Schoenberg, notoriously difficult to bring off,
especially when performed as here without the instrumental doublings for
strings and wind the composer added in 1911 on the advice of Franz
Schreker. The writing has probably never sounded less strained, nor more
perfectly in tune. By 1923 Schoenberg was describing this final work in
his original tonal style as “an illusion for mixed choir, an illusion,
as I know today, having believed … when I composed it, that this pure
harmony among human beings was conceivable.”
Tricky in a different way, Leonard Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms is
marginally less successful if only because the balance sometimes seems
to mute the strings unduly (this is not after all the reduced, economy
version Tenebrae use in concert). Sentimentality is banished but so is
some of the music’s escapist charm. Well to the fore is the countertenor
of David Allsopp, a former Tenebrae singer. Some might have preferred a
less forthright boy treble whatever the threat of sugariness. The final
movement’s big tune is taken rather swiftly so as to make a bigger
contrast with the psalmist’s subdued farewell.
Ascetic rigour is even less of the essence in Zemlinsky’s Psalm 23, a
mildly chromatic pastoral dating from 1910 in which Michael Oliver
detected “an ambience half-way between Hollywood and the Three Choirs
Festival.” Taking its cue from one of the cutesier passages in the
second movement of Mahler’s Eighth Symphony the invention is never
hugely memorable but certainly makes for grateful listening, the scoring
brightening at the very end in a tinkling recreation of the shepherd’s
biblical soundworld of pipe, harp and timbrel.
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