Seen and Heard Promenade Concert Review
Prom 32: Julian ANDERSON, RAVEL; Angelika Kirchschlager (mezzo soprano) BBC Symphony Chorus, BBC Symphony Orchestra, Sir Andrew Davis (conductor), Royal Albert Hall, 6.8.06 (AO)
Julian Anderson has long been a Proms favourite, so it was entirely apposite that his new work, Heaven is Shy of the Earth, should be premiered in the Royal Albert Hall, an auditorium ideal for an ambitious piece with large chorus and orchestra. The title is a quotation from a poem by Emily Dickinson. Anderson has combined it with the words of traditional Latin Mass to create, perhaps, the effect of heavenly choirs celebrating the wonders of nature. Juxtaposing the choir with a lone soloist thus connects the individual poet and a wider, more ancient tradition.
Many composers have used Masses in a non religious context, but there’s no way around the basic fact that Masses celebrate the spiritual, rather than the earthly. It’s a brave concept then, to use the terminology for a different purpose: why would the Lamb of God “take away the sins of the earth”, if the earth were holy? This “Heaven” surely isn’t “shy”. It’s an uncomfortable disjunction, which might have been interesting to explore, but there’s no sense of contradiction in the music itself. Listening without regard to text gets around the problem. As an exercise in adapting Anderson’s characteristic rich textures to vocal music, it is far more successful. Indeed, what struck me on first listening was how it reinvigorated the spirit of Ralph Vaughan Williams -of which more below.
is shy of the Earth starts
with an Intrada, featuring a flugelhorn solo, played
by Bill Houghton, soaring over violins played with impeccable
pianissimo, enhanced by harp and flutes. The mood
was suddenly shattered by the choir entering forcefully
Kyrie Eleison But again, what does
the Lord need to have mercy for ? The Intrada
was exquisite, a mood piece of great refinement and beauty.
It might have been better had this been abstract vocalise,
for the choral writing here was lively. Angelika Kirchschlager
was in wonderful form. Although she was well amplified,
hers is a voice which carries well, and isn’t dampened
by the unsympathetic acoustic of this vast bowl of an
auditorium. Her resonant timbre gave dignified authority
to the section Quam dilecta tabernacula tua. Yet,
when singing of the sparrow making its nest, she softened
her tone. Again the flugelhorn returned, further
colouring the vocal line. But it was the final section,
where the singer calls on God, that was most developed
orchestrally. In the Sanctus,
Kirchschlager’s slightly accented English gave a delicate
vulnerability to the text, which emphasises the fragility
of Dickinson’s almost abstract poem. The choral writing
here was particularly well written, voices layered carefully
to spread the harmonic range. All came together
in the beautifully textured Agnus Dei. For more
on Anderson’s style, please see this earlier review.
So much was made of the “nature worship” in Anderson’s piece in Proms commentary that it was interesting to hear it paired with Daphnis and Chloë. Ravel uses Arcadian fantasy, and though it is essentially “indoor” music, written for the ballet, his music evokes the open vistas of 18th century landscape. Ravel wrote this at about the same time as his pupil, Ralph Vaughan Williams wrote his Sea Symphony. Both have an inspired approach to orchestration and choral writing, which was refreshingly new at the time. It struck me that Anderson was using similar forms, but reviving it in a singularly individual way. While Ravel and Vaughan Williams write with great sweeps of sound, Anderson builds his material layer on layer. The last time I heard Daphnis and Chloë live, it was conducted by Boulez, who made it uncommonly spacious and compelling. Sir Andrew Davis was more conventional and drew much less inspired playing from the same orchestra and chorus.