Singing the praises of Tenebrae’s amazing virtuosity - 3.06.08

[Concert Review – Douai Abbey, Newbury Festival 2008] Newbury Weekly News, Patrick Cogswell

COMMAND PERFORMANCE:
Singing the praises of Tenebrae’s amazing virtuosity

TENEBRAE, in the words of their director Nigel Short, has all the discipline and precision of a world-class ensemble, combining traditional choral repertoire with a more dramatic style of performing.

Tuesday’s concert brought more magic to the mix – that of the Russian Liturgy. Hardly had Fr Oliver delivered his usual good-natured anathema on mobiles when, several floors below bottom B flat, their star bass Adrian Peacock began what is Tenebrae’s long-awaited second appearance at Douai in four years.

Trying to describe the effect of this choir is liable to create a wasteland of superlatives. The best simile of is opalescence, for as the strands of voices shift in and out of prominence, the impression is of a shining surface throwing off colour this way and that as it turns in space. If that sounds too fanciful, when Tenebrae sings forte, the sound is so penetrating and intense that it literally makes your nose crinkle.

Rachmaninov held court with Stravinsky in the first part, with Church Slavonic and Latin taking turns in sonority. They kept company with a less well-known Russian composer, Chesnokov. In his Cherubic Hymn, he gave a special role to the alto line, weaving their even harmonics with the odds from the sopranos. Coming from the sort of choir where altos tend to be just a foil for the brighter tone of the soprano, this was inspiring.

Another intense physical experience was to sit between the two choirs, set opposite each other across the wide nave of Douai, singing Tavener’s Hymn to the Mother of God. This is to understand what it is to have your own head used as a sound box.

The second half of the programme was less intense and more varied, during which it was possible to form theories about how Tenebrae achieve their amazing virtuosity. The key might be to keep two opposing impulses in balance, one being a feeling of space around the notes, the other a strong sense of regular rhythm, but applied in a far from obvious way.

Rachmaninov’s Nunc Dimittis was sung with a pronounced, almost nodding pulse, carefully faded down to create the impression of a worshipper disappearing down the mountain track, into double pianissimo, but still with the beat of slow, fulfilled footsteps. For my ears this was the most remarkable piece, which summed up the choir’s extraordinary artistic and technical command.