Sir Charles Villiers Stanford (1852-1924)
Requiem, Op 63 (1896)
Carolyn Sampson (soprano), Marta Fontanals-Simmons (mezzo-soprano), James Way (tenor), Ross Ramgobin (baritone)
University of Birmingham Voices
City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Martyn Brabbins
rec. live, July 2022, Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Texts & English translation included
Hyperion CDA68418 [74]
This is a genuinely excellent disc in every respect. Martyn Brabbins has a sure and certain grasp of the scale and sweep of this substantial 74:26 work but in many ways it is the summation of all the individual excellence that combine to make this such a satisfying listening experience. The City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra play with all their usual skill and sensitivity. A major plus is the singing of the University of Birmingham Voices with the liner listing around 100 voices trained by Simon Halsey and Julian Wilkins. The two chorus masters have a done tremendous job with the singing alert and responsive, vibrant with exciting attack or melting warmth as required. Add to that a fine quartet of soloists led by soprano Carolyn Sampson fully up to the quasi-operatic drama of her part and you can see that the performing side of this recording is in fine fettle. But another important element is the actual recording and production. Symphony Hall Birmingham is a well-known and admired performing and recording venue but engineer Phil Rowlands and producer Andrew Keener have created an aural space that has the richness and sense of space this type of work requires. Lastly the balances achieved with such large performing groups is likewise excellent right down to the solo quartet being integrated into the choir and orchestra so that their parts are always present but never synthetically dominant. The Hyperion website states; “Recorded in association with a live performance” which I take to mean recorded under studio conditions at the time of the live performance. If in fact this is a live performance recorded then the audience is miraculously quiet throughout and the sophistication of the engineering truly remarkable.
All of which allows the listener to assess for themselves the stature and significance of Stanford’s Requiem Op.63. That is much harder to judge I find. As ever with Stanford the quality of the craft is not in doubt. The writing for voices massed or solo is effective at least and often much more than that, the orchestral accompaniment likewise impressive in the way it serves the music and illuminates the text. The entire work is bound together by a subtle use of motifs and references that recur at key recognisable points giving the work a satisfying sense of musical unity. But for all my genuine pleasure and admiration, there is this nagging doubt that true genius is just out of Stanford’s reach. David Kettle’s quite brief but illuminating liner makes two specific points that I find telling. This Requiem was the Birmingham Triennial Festival commission of 1897. The 1900 commission was Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius and British Choral music – let alone that written for festivals – was never the same again. So even though the Stanford was considered ‘unusual’ for its time – a setting of the Latin Mass for the Dead in a Protestant country – it really does represent a backward-looking summation rather than the perception-challenging Gerontius. While this Requiem might not suffer from the unevenness of Gerontius neither does it scales its heights. And therein lies the second point Kettle makes – Stanford’s professional jealousy with regard to the younger Elgar, uneducated, low-born who by the time of World War I had totally eclipsed the older establishment composer in terms of both professional and public standing.
Another valid point Kettle makes is the influence of Brahms’ Requiem on this work rather than the theatrical impact of Verdi’s with – as Kettle puts it – Stanford focussing on themes of consolation and renewal rather than judgement and damnation. But that said, for the composer who wrote nine operas is not adverse to thrilling radiance when the chorus reach “lux perpetua” in the opening Introit or he emphasises the unease and fear of the Dies Irae rather than Verdi’s destructive wrath. Likewise the opening of the Sanctus is a disarmingly beautiful invocation of heaven with the choir sopranos calling out gently pealing “sanctus” with a harp accompaniment that can only be described as angelic. As mentioned, Stanford does not give his four soloists “set piece” solos in the Verdian manner although soprano Carolyn Sampson and tenor James Way are given more extended solos. More often than not a soloist will emerge from within the quartet having brief prominence. This being the case, as mentioned, the quartet are a very well matched and balanced group. Their voices are individual and distinctive but they also balance and blend intelligently within the group. The same can be said of the choral work. There is a slight emphasis towards the high soprano voices but when they ring out with the purity and security as here that is understandable.
Throughout Stanford’s writing for the voices – solo or choral – sounds grateful to sing and certainly effective. With the exception of a couple of fugal choruses in the Offertorium – again performed here with exemplary clarity and vigour – the writing is more reminiscent of the mellifluous hymn-like choral writing that occurs in much of Stanford’s church music which remains his most performed works to this day in Anglican services. The movement that perhaps encapsulates all the many virtues of the performance, the recording and the work best is the penultimate section of the Sequence – the Lacrimosa dies illa. Over funereal muffled drums Stanford builds to a powerfully overwhelming climax with the choir in full voice and the orchestra underpinned by an organ. But perhaps this also shows how Stanford cannot quite go for the emotional jugular – after such a genuinely impressive movement the Pie Jesu that completes this section of the Requiem is just a little routine with Stanford not quite able to find an emotional killer blow. That said, the closing Agnus Dei and Lux aeterna are touchingly moving. Interestingly Stanford gives the orchestra – for just about the only time in the work – a fairly extended postlude immediately after a return to the great choral outburst of “Lux aeterna” before the music sinks down to eternal rest in a radiant A major with the chorus whispering in ppp“quia pius es” [for you are good]. It is a very affecting and powerful conclusion to an impressive work. Indeed the sincerity and deep personal involvement in this setting by Stanford is never in doubt. He wrote it in part in memory of his close personal friend the Catholic Lord Frederic Leighton.
Hopefully my review has made clear how very well served this piece is by this new recording. That said the previous performance on Marco Polo (now nearly 20 years old) with the excellent Adrian Leaper conducting Irish performers is not wholly eclipsed. Across the whole work Leaper takes an extra six or so minutes which gives some key moments even greater weight. The singing and playing of the combined RTÉ choir and orchestra is very good and the soloists are fine. But a smaller sounding body of performers, a not-as-good recording and splitting the work across two discs means that the older recording is trumped by this new one at every turn. The benefit for the Stanford enthusiast is that the older set fills the second disc with excerpts from the Veiled Prophet of Khorassen. However the second disc does means that even now on Naxos that set is more expensive than the new single disc from Hyperion. I would suggest that for the enthusiast this new disc will be a compulsory purchase regardless of repertoire duplication and that for the inquisitive newcomer this recording will bring great pleasure.
Indeed I am not sure when I have enjoyed the actual performance of a work of this type more in recent times. The simple truth is that not every composer or every work can be termed “great” or the product of a “genius”. To my mind this is an excellent example of just how good, how engaging and compelling a work of the second tier by a second tier composer can be. There is a perception that “second tier” means “second rate” but to my mind that is quite misguided. This work shows without a doubt that Stanford was a very capable composer indeed who at his most inspired could write music of power and conviction. And it is here where this new recording really excels – all of the performers sound as though they are completely engaged with the work with the choral singing especially having palpable enthusiasm and focus. A great deal of the credit for this must go both to the choir trainers but also to Martyn Brabbins who once again proves himself to be especially adept at handling large-scale and complex scores. I would think that even the infamously hard to please Stanford would be grudgingly delighted with such an involving and impressive performance.
Nick Barnard
Previous review: John Quinn (May 2023)
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