The premiere recording of Grace Williams’s Missa Cambrensis
An interview with conductor Adrian Partington
by John Quinn
In the last few years, I’ve become acquainted with some of the music of Grace Williams (1906-1977). I’m very conscious that my knowledge of her output is still limited but the music that I’ve heard to date has impressed me.
Now, the BBC National Orchestra and Chorus of Wales and conductor Adrian Partington have made for Lyrita the first commercial recording of Grace Williams’ Missa Cambrensis. This hugely ambitious choral/orchestral work, composed between 1968 and 1970, was one of her very last works and I think it’s legitimate to consider it as her magnum opus. The BBC National Orchestra of Wales is closely associated with this work. The orchestra, then known as the BBC Welsh Symphony Orchestra, gave the work’s first performance in June 1971 (when the chorus was the Llandaff Cathedral Choral Society). It was not until 2016 that Missa Cambrensis was heard again. In March of that year – appropriately, on March 1, Saint David’s Day – the orchestra, now renamed the BBC National Orchestra of Wales and joined by the BBC National Chorus of Wales, performed it again. That performance was broadcast on BBC Radio 3. This new Lyrita recording features a different conductor and team of vocal soloists, though the important part of the narrator was taken both in 2016 and now by Dr Rowan Williams, the retired Archbishop of Canterbury.
At this point, it may be helpful to provide a few brief biographical details of Grace Williams; for this I draw on the booklet essays which Paul Conway and Dr Leah Broad have written for the various CDs of her music which have come my way. Grace Williams was born on 19 February, 1906 in the South Wales coastal town of Barry. After leaving school, where her exceptional musical talent was already obvious, she enrolled in 1923 at what is now Cardiff University to read music. In 1926 she moved to London to study at the Royal College of Music where her teachers included Vaughan Williams and Gordon Jacob. It was while at the RCM that she forged a close and lifelong friendship with her fellow composer Elizabeth Maconchy. Later (1930-31), she studied in Vienna with Egon Wellesz. On her return from Vienna, Williams worked as a teacher in London until 1945; then she returned to her home town where she lived for the rest of her life; she died on 10 February, 1977, just a few days short of her 71st birthday. In Wales she pursued a career as a freelance composer, receiving many commissions, not least from the BBC. There’s a touching detail in Paul Conway’s notes accompanying the new recording of Missa Cambrensis. He writes that “In her last years she refused all further commissions so that younger composers might profit from the kind of support she herself had enjoyed from the BBC and the Welsh Arts Council”. One commission that she did accept, though, came from the Llandaff Music Festival for a substantial score which became Missa Cambrensis.
I was sent a copy of the new CD for review and listening to it in the weeks since Christmas has been a fascinating experience. It’s a remarkable work in many ways and ambitious in its intellectual reach and in its dimensions – it plays for nearly 67 minutes and is scored for large forces. One feature that has especially impressed me – in addition to the quality of the music per se – is the original way in which Grace Williams responded to the text of the Ordinary of the Mass, which she set in Latin.
Missa Cambrensis is scored for SATB soloists and choir, a narrator, a children’s choir and a large orchestra. In the vocal score, the orchestration is given as follows: 2 each of flutes, oboes and clarinets (with the usual doublings), 2 bassoons and a contra; 4 horns, 2 trumpets, three trombones, tuba; timpani; percussion (2 players); piano, strings and harp. (The harp is only involved in the ‘Carol Nadolig’ movement, in which it accompanies the children’s choir.)
I was keen to learn more about the work and so I met with the conductor of this recording, Adrian Partington. He has been the Artistic Director of the BBC National Chorus of Wales (BBCNCW) since January 1999 and in that capacity not only prepared the Chorus for this recording but also for the 2016 performance previously referenced; so, he has a deep knowledge of the score.
The obvious starting point for our conversation was to seek his overall impressions of the work. Adrian described it as “a very significant work; a work of great power, great variety and probably the greatest work of its type to come from a Welsh composer.” He noted that there were antecedent works from composers such as William Mathias and Alun Hoddinott “but nothing quite of this scale and intensity”. When I enquired why this should have been the case, he suggested that, for all its tremendous musicality as a nation, Wales was slow to produce composers of great stature – though he hastened to remind me that the same was true of England, which “had a pretty lean time of it” in the nineteenth century. He pointed out to me that there was a great deal of local music making and, of course, the Eisteddfod tradition, but it was not until the BBC established its Music Department and an orchestra in Wales that there was the opportunity for Welsh composers to have large scale works performed in their own country.
Missa Cambrensis is a work that Grace Williams composed towards the end of her life and I wondered if we can take it in any way as a summation of her composing career. Adrian feels that this is indeed the case “because it uses her symphonic experience, her choral experience and, to a certain extent, her philosophical experience as well”. I was intrigued to learn from him something which doesn’t, perhaps, quite come out in Lyrita’s admirable and comprehensive booklet essay. In private correspondence, especially to her very close friend, Elizabeth Maconchy, Adrian noted that “she makes it quite clear that this piece was an exploration of her own faith”. In one letter to Maconchy she wrote ‘I’ve begun the Credo – and incidentally worked out my own creed! The resurrection is for me simply the survival of Christ’s teaching. A wonderful allegory.’
I looked at the Grace Williams website and while there are quite a number of choral or vocal works listed, only a handful seem to be religious in nature. Apart from Missa Cambrensis I noted Two Psalms (1927, rev 1935), The Song of Mary for solo soprano and orchestra (1939, rev 1940 & 1945), Psalm 150 (1947), Benedicite (1964), and Ave Maris Stella (1973) for a cappella SATB chorus; that seems to be it. This doesn’t suggest a composer with a compulsion to compose sacred music. Adrian believes that she didn’t have the sort of “church background” that many English composers have had, either as choristers or organists. More than once she admitted to being an agnostic, like, of course, her teacher, Vaughan Williams. I was curious to learn what is known of Grace Williams’ religious beliefs (if any). Adrian’s understanding is that she was not a religious believer but “she was more than sympathetic”. I was fascinated to learn from him that before starting to compose Missa Cambrensis “she sat down and read the four Gospels, straight through… She was very keen to get an understanding of Jesus, the man as well as Jesus, the God-figure”. He added that the two strands of religion, the spiritual and the physical – how one lives out one’s faith – were very much in her mind; that accounts for the presence of The Beatitudes in Missa Cambrensis. Having heard that important insight into Grace Williams’ approach, I feel we can safely conclude that Missa Cambrensis is the work of a respectful, enquiring agnostic.
I knew that Missa Cambrensis was written in response to a commission from the Llandaff Festival; what I hadn’t been able to establish is whether the subject matter was stipulated/suggested or if it was her own idea to write a setting of the Mass. Adrian was able to enlighten me, explaining that the commission was just to write a significant piece. Apparently, her first thought was to write a Church Opera. She was, at that time, very interested in the work of Benjamin Britten and maybe she had heard the Church Parables. But it was “absolutely her decision” to write a Mass; she wanted to write something that was appropriate to the surroundings of Llandaff Cathedral.
It seems to me from listening to the work and following it in a vocal score that it is prodigiously difficult for the chorus, both rhythmically and harmonically – the choral parts are highly chromatic and bristle with accidentals, notwithstanding which the BBCNCW performs the music with great conviction. I asked Adrian how did the choir react to Missa Cambrensis? In particular, was there a core of the choir who could remember the work from 2016? Adrian thinks that between one-third and one half of the present choir had taken part in the 2016 performance. He made the point that the way he organises the BBCNCW means that it’s very much a young person’s ensemble and “young people tend to be on the move”, so membership of the choir is quite fluid, which keeps it “absolutely alive and vibrant and open-minded about pieces of acute difficulty”. The “massive effort” that was put in to learn the piece in 2016 paid dividends when it came to preparing for the recording in late 2023/early 2024. However, he went on to say something very interesting. Despite the presence of a good number of singers who had previously learned the work, the 2016 participants could barely remember it “because it’s simply so hard that it’s unmemorable”. He contrasted a work like The Dream of Gerontius that lodges in the memory; the approach to learning Missa Cambrensis “has to be so cerebral that it’s thought rather than heart that drives the performance. You can’t relax for a second”.
The BBCNCW is a highly experienced and accomplished choir whose work I’ve encountered many times. However, I’ve not previously heard the children’s choir Côr Heol y March. They make a very assured contribution to this performance and I asked Adrian to tell me a bit more about the choir and their involvement in this project. He explained that 30/35 singers were involved; the choir is divided into three parts with 10/12 singers per part. Since Eleri Roberts founded the choir in 2009, they’ve gone on to win all sorts of prizes, including on one occasion the premier prize at Llangollen. They were an obvious choice for the project. He went on to say that, as with other Welsh choirs, “the language gives colour to the singing; it’s completely unique”. He explained that singing in Welsh produces vowel colours – not sounds – which don’t appear in other European languages. This, he says, gives a dark colouring, even though Côr Heol y March make a bright sound; this is different to what one would hear from an English children’s choir.
We moved on to talking about the music itself and I began not at the beginning but with the Credo. That strikes me as the most original and meatiest of all the movements, not least because a good deal of the music has a sense of mystery and awe – misterioso is a marking that crops up more than once; this is not a conventional affirmation of faith. I asked Adrian about this and he replied that he sees the Credo as “an exploration rather than an affirmation”. He referenced another of Grace Williams’ fascinating letters to Elizabeth Maconchy where Williams says ‘…faith is to me a mysterious, intangible thing and I’m trying to get that sort of feeling into the orchestration…’ Adrian went on to say that the bare orchestral chords with which the Credo begins, the piccolo prominent, is “masterly…it says ‘doubt’ to me, not faith”. He finds it very moving that this composer, towards the end of her life, is trying to work out what her own faith is, if indeed there is one.
I asked Adrian for his thoughts on the very novel approach to the Credo. In the middle of the setting Williams introduces two interpolations, both in Welsh. These are very significant departures from the Latin text and I asked him to explain the inclusion of these passages and their role in the overall structure of the movement. He sees the interpolation of the ‘Carol Nadolig’ (Christmas Carol), sung by the children, as an “illumination” of what’s already in the text of the Credo, to reinforce that God became Man. The Beatitudes, he says, represent the physical enactment of faith so that is “placed strategically” by Grace Williams at a point where the life of Christ is being described in the text of the ancient Credo. This, too, he finds very moving. He describes the way Rowan Williams delivers the text as “sensitive and commanding”, a verdict with which I’d fully agree. We touched briefly on the fact that the Credo ends in the key of F# major and the Mass as a whole ends in C major, albeit it seems to me that this particular C major is very uneasy. Adrian pointed out that throughout the whole work there is “a tension” between the two keys and that in this respect there’s “an obvious connection” with Britten’s War Requiem.
I asked Adrian to summarise his thoughts on the other movements. In the very intense Kyrie “we have the pleadings of sinful humanity”. He adds that, though it may not sound like it, the music is of “acute difficulty” for the singers in terms of the tuning, the intervals, the placing of the voices. The outpouring of joy and praise at the start of the Gloria is “terribly exciting”, though he agreed with me that this mood doesn’t last long. He points out, though, that the text of the Gloria presents a lot of different thoughts in quick succession and hence Williams’ setting is sectional and divided into pithy comments. Along with the Kyrie, the ‘Domine Deus’ section of the Gloria is “possibly the hardest thing I’ve ever had to conduct with a large choir and large orchestra”. Amplifying that point, he referenced the chromaticism, the dissonances, “the chorus having to find the notes from nowhere”. In addition, the timing and the changing pulses are constantly challenging. But Adrian agreed with me that the technical difficulties, there and elsewhere in the work, are there for expressive effect, even if Williams perhaps got a bit carried away at times. Standards of choral singing have risen significantly since the late 1960s when Grace Williams composed this score; I couldn’t help but wonder how realistic it was for her to expect choirs of the time to master the complexities of Missa Cambrensis. It must have been a huge challenge, we agreed, for the Llandaff Cathedral Choral Society to master the music at the premiere, though Adrian, who has heard a recording, says they did “a pretty good job”. He agreed with me that the cathedral’s resonant acoustic can’t have helped, whereas the Lyrita recording has been made in the more immediate acoustic of Hoddinott Hall. Adrian made a further and telling point that, fifty-odd years on from the premiere, choirs have had the benefit of much greater exposure to modern music than was the case in the early 1970s.
We moved on to discuss the Sanctus and Benedictus. Adrian commented that the Sanctus doesn’t look much on paper and may appear too long for its material but he found that in performance “it’s absolutely the right length for what it wanted to say”. The bareness of the music at the start reminds one of the Credo; again, it’s “not unalloyed joy, which the Sanctus normally is”. He drew my attention to the passages, later in the movement, where the children sing, following a choral/orchestral tumult; that’s another very moving moment. In parts of the Sanctus, he has tried to bring out the sound of the piano, playing with the woodwinds; this, he feels, is reminiscent of Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms. Overall, he believes there is sufficient variety in the music to sustain a movement of this length. The climax of the movement is “just magnificent”. I suggested to Adrian that in the movements which follow the Credo the melodic material is, arguably, a bit limited, with reliance on melodic cells; actually, I thought this was very helpful because it assists the listener’s focus. Adrian agreed, commenting that “economy in art is an important thing; it’s not repetition for its own sake”. Turning to the Benedictus, though he admits he has “no evidence for this whatsoever” he suggests a comparison with Britten’s Missa Brevis in D (1959). Britten’s Benedictus has the same calmness after the fieriness of the Sanctus that one finds in Williams’ setting; both use the same key of D major. This is, he observes, “the most traditionally lyrical” movement in Missa Cambrensis; it’s “a beautiful contrast”.
The Agnus Dei, he says, is on a par with the Kyrie and ‘Domine Deus’ in terms of technical difficulty. It’s the most dissonant of the movements; it’s “the agony of the world awaiting its redeemer”. The soloists’ music suggests people struggling with their guilt and when the chorus joins in their music is “phenomenally difficult”.
Though I don’t think there’s any doubt as to the quality or eloquence of the music I fear that the significant challenges that Grace Williams set her singers, both the chorus and the soloists, may well inhibit future performances of Missa Cambrensis; for one thing, the amount of chorus preparation time will probably be thought excessive. Indeed, I’m tempted to suggest that only the BBC would be likely to have the will and the resources to prepare and programme it. Adrian agreed and added that promoters will be wary of the risks of programming the work. Its future depends on the “phenomenally important” role that the BBC National Orchestra of Wales plays in the country’s cultural life. Only they have the resources and the skills to do this piece. This comment reminded me that, quite by chance, over the Christmas period I spotted on social media the news that the BBCNOW has acquired a Broadwood piano which used to belong to Grace Williams. Judging by the pictures of the instrument arriving at the orchestra’s Cardiff headquarters, it’s a handsome-looking, small grand piano which seems to be in excellent condition. Since the orchestra has done so much to champion this composer’s music over the years it seems very fitting that the BBCNOW will be the new owners of this instrument.
I asked Adrian if he had conducted any other pieces by Grace Williams in the past. Because he’s primarily a church musician (as Director of Music at Gloucester Cathedral) he has not done any of her secular music but he has conducted one other piece, her setting for unaccompanied chorus of Ave Maris Stella (1973), one of her very last compositions. He described this as “spectacularly difficult”. He did the piece with the semi-chorus of the BBCNCW as part of a radio programme of Welsh choral music; he thought the work was “marvellous” despite the fact that it’s “relentlessly difficult” with its use of mixed metres, dissonance and tritones. He thinks, though, that on the whole it’s “more tonally based” than Missa Cambrensis but adds that “it still has that same feeling of striving for a conclusion which then never comes”. He added the interesting observation that, like a piece such as the Hammerklavier Sonata, it’s a deliberate challenge to the performers: ‘this is what I mean; do what you can with it’.He says hewould like to explore Williams’ output further and that he’s “rather tempted” by The Song of Mary, a 1930s piece which he doesn’t believe has been performed in recent times. He’s very interested in Grace Williams’ music, partly because she was Welsh and he has a long association with music in Wales, and also because he’s very sympathetic to female composers of previous ages; they didn’t have an easy time. He cites Morfydd Owen (1891-1918), a Welsh pianist, mezzo-soprano and composer of whom, I’m ashamed to say, I’d never heard. Adrian explained that Owen was a hero figure to Grace Williams and was the inspiration to her aspiration to become a composer. Adrian has conducted Owen’s most substantial orchestral work with the BBCNOW. Morfydd Owen, he says, was the forebear of all British female composers, “the Welsh equivalent of Ethel Smyth”, though a very different sort of person.
Grace Williams has undoubtedly benefitted from the support that the BBC in Wales has provided and continues to give to Welsh composers – as have several of her peers, such as Alun Hoddinott, Daniel Jones and William Mathias. Also, she is surely one of those composers who have benefitted from the upsurge in recognition for female composers in recent years. On the basis of those works of hers that I’ve heard, however, I think that her music, and Missa Cambrensis in particular, needs no special pleading. Adrian agrees: her music is “original, it’s different, it’s unusual, it’s strong; and the fact that it’s written by a woman is irrelevant”. Those general comments, I suggest, are wholly applicable to Missa Cambrensis and the new recording will at last allow a wide audience to judge it and appreciate it for themselves.
John Quinn
Review of Lyrita’s recording of Missa Cambrensis.
