Grace Williams (1906-1977)
Missa Cambrensis (1971)
April Fredrick (soprano), Angharad Lyddon (mezzo-soprano), Robert Murray (tenor), Paul Carey Jones (bass-baritone), Dr Rowan Williams (narrator)
BBC National Chorus of Wales, Côr Heol y March
BBC National Orchestra of Wales/Adrian Partington
rec. 2024, Hoddinott Hall, Cardiff, UK
Lyrita SRCD 442 [67]
It is a mark of the lack of appreciation of Welsh composers that Grace Williams’s Missa Cambrensis has waited 54 years for its premiere recording. To be sure, it was revived in 2016 at the St David’s Hall in Cardiff, but it seems reprehensible for such a masterwork to be ignored for so long. Yet, the same fate has befallen many of her near-contemporaries, including Alun Hoddinott, Daniel Jones, David Wynne and William Mathias.
The Missa Cambrensis is a big production by any stretch of the imagination. The Guardian reviewer of the 2016 performance regarded it as Mahlerian in concept. Malcolm Boyd in his study of Grace Williams has suggested that it is “in many ways the consummation of her life’s work”. In scale, at least, I was reminded of Herbert Howells’s colossal Missa Sabrinensis.
Grace Williams – born in Barry, Glamorgan – is often regarded as Wales’s most significant female composer. She developed an early interest in music, learning piano and violin. She won a scholarship to Cardiff University in 1923, and later studied at the Royal College of Music in London under Gordon Jacob and Ralph Vaughan Williams. In 1930, she spent a year studying with Egon Wellesz in Vienna.
Williams wrote across a wide range of genres, including two symphonies, an opera (The Parlour), concertos, chamber music, film scores and songs. Her compositions were often inspired by Welsh landscapes and the sea, most notably the Sea Sketches (1944). Her most well-known pieces include Fantasia on Welsh Nursery Tunes (1940) and Penillion (1955), which she wrote for the National Youth Orchestra of Wales.
Williams wrote the Missa Cambrensis between 1968 and 1971 as a commission for the Llandaff Festival. Paul Conway, in the liner notes, reminds the listener that the adjective Cambrensis means “of Wales”. Rhiannon Matthias, in her book about Grace Williams, notes that the festival committee had a policy of encouraging works which explored the connection between Christianity and the Church. Seemingly, Williams first thought about producing an opera for the event but decided that a Mass would be more suitable for the venue.
It is intriguing that Grace Williams, a confirmed agnostic, should have chosen to compose a setting of the Mass. She had previously produced a handful of liturgical works including a Magnificat (1939) and a Benedicite (1964). As Rhiannon Mathias notes, her teacher Ralph Vaughan Williams, also an agnostic, wrote numerous pieces for the church.
The Mass is scored for large forces, including four soloists, a mixed chorus, boys’ choir and speaker. The large orchestra, with much percussion, includes a piano. It is important to recall that the work was devised for the concert hall, and was never intended for a celebration of the Eucharist.
Structurally, the Missa Cambrensis is divided into the five movements of a traditional Mass: Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus with Benedictus, and Agnus Dei. The Mass is in Latin, but Williams has added two “extra-liturgical” sections. She included her 1955 Carol Nadolig [A Christmas Carol] to a text by Cymraeg poet and nationalist Saunders Lewis. Sung in Welsh by children’s voices, it makes a delightful interlude. The other interpolation is the recitation of the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-10). The former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, delivers this series of blessings from the Sermon on the Mount.
Some critics contend that the interpolations fail due to the relative “feebleness” of the music, but I found them quite moving. They are not essential to the overall structure of the work. Another criticism is levelled on the preponderance of slow music after the Gloria; this, too, did not cause me any problems. The overall effect is one of intensity and melancholy and an unsettling balance between an austere sound and a few moments of warmth. The spirit is lifted simply by the sheer power of the writing.
The Missa Cambrensis was premiered at Llandaff Cathedral on 16 June 1971. It was deemed a success by composers and commentators present, but was ungenerously panned by Kenneth Loveland in The Times.
The putative listener will wonder what Grace Williams’s Mass sounds like. At the time of its premiere, Malcolm Boyd noted similarities with Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem. The added non-liturgical texts partially accounted for this opinion. Other music may have influenced her: Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms and RVW’s Dona Nobis Pacem. Yet there is a distinctive, if intangible, Welsh feel about the Missa Cambrensis. Whatever antecedents may have been in her mind, the result is entirely Grace Williams’s invention.
The present performance cannot be faulted. A great deal is demanded of all the singers and instrumentalists. The recording of this remarkable choral work is impeccable. Paul Conway’s extensive liner notes are a masterclass. His thirteen-page essay includes an introduction to Grace Williams and her achievement, a detailed discussion of the genesis of the Mass, and a non-technical analysis of the music. Texts and translations are included at the front of the booklet.
I think the last word can go to Malcolm Boyd: “[The Missa Cambrensis] may not be [an] unflawed masterpiece, but it is a work of great power, rich in incident, generous in feeling and exemplary in craftsmanship.”
John France
Previous review: John Quinn (January 2025)
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