Light in the Darkness

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Choral directors who tackle Gesualdo’s Tenebrae Responses do so at their own peril. Andrew Megill went out on that limb to introduce himself to the Carmel Bach Festival, and, no doubt, to put his colleagues everywhere on notice that he’s prepared to play for high stakes.

In a program titled “From Darkness to Light,” Megill, the festival’s new associate conductor, directed his youthful 24-voice Festival Chorale three times at Carmel Mission, and once in memory of the late Sandor Salgo at Stanford Memorial Church, between mid-July and August 1.

Gesualdo’s Tenebrae loom as among the most daunting works ever penned, for singers and choral directors alike, to say nothing of audiences unfamiliar with them. At Carmel Mission last Wednesday, more than a few of the latter became increasingly aware of how hard those wooden pews can be. Yet the performance itself, of the nine Tenebrae Responsories — dark reflections on the suffering and death of Jesus — for Holy Saturday, deserved accolades, even though the audience had little opportunity to show them. (The Gesualdo was sandwiched between penitential motets by Poulenc and Richard Rodney Bennett’s The Seasons of His Mercies, in a solemn candlelit program that specifically prohibited applause.)

The biggest obstacle to “getting” the Tenebrae madrigals lies in understanding the texts, because like most 15th - and 16th-century vocal music, the music emanates from the words. The verses in this case were printed with translations, and recited in English from the pulpit before each was sung. However, the darkened, echoing room conspired against any clear connection between the Latin words and the circuitous, often tortured musical lines.

For most composers, this would have already been enough complexity. But not for Gesualdo. The texts are further illuminated with abrupt vacillations between circumspect meditation and dramatic flourish, and with changing tempos and dynamics all along the way. Although the composer makes use of his contemporaries’ practices, he adds further complication as he pits harmonic episodes against contrapuntal ones, and tone painting for affect — or feeling — against fleeting but often shocking effect. (His sometimes-grinding dissonances account rather disproportionately for the notoriety of this music today, and some who conduct it exaggerate the effects into parody.) In a few spots, Megill drew quartets from his chorus who carried their parts assuredly and in fine voice and balance.

Inevitably, some listeners find themselves in a place not unlike some of Gesualdo’s courtly audiences, for whom cultivating a taste for such stylized settings took more time and effort than they deemed they were worth. But for those who make the effort, rewards are as abundant as they are concentrated. These kernels come with no chaff.

Capable Singing Throughout

Under Megill, the Festival Chorale produced a full-bodied tone and fine blend, yet as the program demonstrated, the chorus demonstrated the flexibility that such music demands. Under William Jon Gray, Megill’s predecessor during the previous three festivals, the Chorale sang with precision and chiseled articulation. There is of course overlap between these approaches (not the least of which are the many singers the groups share in common), but with a palpable difference.

Megill’s Chorale doesn’t shoot consonants like bullets, a feature of Gray’s style that etched the choral lines vividly against orchestral forces. The new man prefers to seduce with warmly blended sonorities and to phrase gracefully with an innate musicality.

Further credit to Megill’s account was made with the four Poulenc motets that opened the program, the last of which added variety of texture by way of a solo. The work provided a hint of the dynamic contrasts to follow in the Gesualdo, as well as a demonstration of the choir’s power in filling a large space with rich sound.

Starting quietly, Bennett’s musical message was upbeat, as indeed was the John Donne “count your blessings” sermon on which it was based. Wisely, the composer gives some of the purely narrative passages to solo tenor, adding a personal touch to the work’s homily. (Since Bennett wrote the work, part of his Sermons and Devotions, for the all-male King’s Singers, this expanded version furloughed the sopranos.)

Out of the preceding darkness, growing light and radiant spirit drew Megill’s program to a close with Randall Thompson’s uplifting Allelujah.

Since 1978, Scott MacClelland has written music criticism and journalism for all the major newspapers on the Monterey Peninsula, and for the Metro papers in Santa Cruz and San Jose. During the same period, he has taught music history for Monterey Peninsula College. In recent years he has contributed articles to Strings magazine.