But they rarely hear two such magnificent choral feasts on consecutive days as those offered by the two choirs last Thursday and Friday. Westminster Abbey and Cathedral are within easy walking distance of each other, and fortunate Londoners can hear glorious choral singing in both churches virtually any day of the week. But they rarely hear two such magnificent choral feasts on consecutive days as those offered by the two choirs last Thursday and Friday.
The Cathedral choir were on home ground, giving the first performance of James MacMillan’s new Mass in a liturgical setting, celebrating the feast of Corpus Christi – an occasion of great solemnity and splendour in the vast neo-Byzantine basilica on Victoria Street. The atmosphere, even before the Mass started, brought home the difference between hearing religious music in a concert and the real thing. MacMillan set the Mass text in English, for choir and organ, in music that was slow-moving, befitting the massive acoustic, and mainly lyrical and modal.At the start Duruflé, Howells and even Vaughan Williams came to mind – and birdsong-like organ obbligati recalled Messiaen, but as the music progressed it took on an unmistakable character of its own. This was not a superficially brilliant or triumphal setting – both Kyrie and Gloria were rather restrained – but it was truly a solemn Mass, in every sense of the word.
The solemnity reached its apogee in the awe-inspiring Sanctus and Benedictus, with great rocking gestures building from the depths into the dizzying heights, to magnificent effect, and the remote resonances of the Agnus Dei brought things to what MacMillan called “an uneasy resolution”. In an age when religious music has become rather fashionable again – and you might almost think there was too much of it being produced – this was heartfelt work of high quality, sung beautifully by a superbly trained choir under Martin Baker, and fulfilling its function of worship to perfection.The training of the Cathedral choir was, until recently, in the hands of James O’Donnell, and it was he who directed his new charges, the choir of Westminster Abbey, in the concluding concert of the Spitalfields Festival. Christchurch Spitalfields is, in its way, as fine a church as Westminster Cathedral, but with a much less resonant acoustic. The church music of Orlando Gibbons and even Purcell loses something when separated from a liturgical context, and the bright, strong sound of the choir worked better in some pieces than others.
The quality of soloists also varied.Things really took off in the second half, however – especially in the 20th century material. Judith Weir’s “Love bade me welcome” was simple and affecting, and Jonathan Dove’s “Ecce beatam lucem” resplendent – all broad sweeps and shimmering organ textures. Walton’s “Cantico del Sole” was efficiently performed, though breathing life into this slightly pedestrian piece is a challenge. But the crowning glory of the evening was Britten’s touching yet joyous setting of “Rejoice in the Lamb”. Excellent diction and full-throated commitment from the Abbey boys and men made this a most powerful and moving conclusion to both concert and festival.. If the idea of men running around in vests and pants, gobbing down each other’s throats and screaming “the pigs are coming” sets your world on fire, then Meltdown, the South Bank’s annual arts festival, is the place for you. If the idea of men running around in vests and pants, gobbing down each other’s throats and screaming “the pigs are coming” sets your world on fire, then Meltdown, the South Bank’s annual arts festival, is the place for you.
Fuckhead were the evening’s great enigma.
