|
CHORAL MUSIC REVIEW
The California Bach Society,
March 4, 2001
|
By Kip Cranna
In a bold departure from its usual 18th-century programming, the venerable California Bach Society undertook to perform the St. John Passion by the contemporary Estonian composer Arvo Pärt at St. Luke's Episcopal Church in San Francisco. Now in his mid-sixties, Pärt has become something of an icon in the modern choral world, admired for his dreamily reverent-sounding choral works that evoke the mystic resonance of ancient monasteries.
Since his stylistic self-reinvention in the 1970s, Pärt's compositions have been built from a simplified neo-medieval language he has dubbed tintinnabuli, from the Latin for "little bells." Eschewing the complexities of 12-tone and aleatoric music that he explored in his youth, Pärt underwent a profound change of temperament before developing his austere and minimalist new method. As he puts it, "I have discovered that it is enough when a single note is beautifully played. This note, or a silent beat, or a moment of silence comforts me."
The essence of Pärt's style apart from those long silences is a deft combination of simple diatonic scale patterns, with oscillating melodic thirds and fourths, that sound over basic triadic harmonies. An important aspect of Pärt's aesthetic is a new approach to the concept of time. Linear progression and goal-oriented writing are foreign to his style, replaced by a transcendent experience that falls into the realm of meditative contemplation, inspired by his deep Christian faith as nurtured in the Russian Orthodox Church.
His Passio Domini Nostri Jesu Christi Secundum Joanne sets the Latin text of the Passion story as told in the John gospel, using three basic forces: the narrator, sung by a vocal quartet, Jesus himself, sung by a bass soloist, and the rest of the characters, sung by the chorus. (Pontius Pilate is the only other solo character, sung with conviction but unsteady pitch by tenor Paul Elliot).
The narration by John the Evangelist was an ideal assignment for the group known as Sogni d'oro (Dreams of Gold), consisting of Ruth Escher, Suzanne Elder, Neal Rogers, and Hugh Davies. These four are section leaders for CBS's semiprofessional choral group of some 20 singers, under the enterprising artistic direction of Warren Stewart. The vocal quartet was accompanied by an instrumental quartet of violin, oboe, cello, and bassoon, along with underlying organ, skillfully supplied by Jonathan Dimmock. The second element in Pärt's vocal division is the full chorus, which sounds out the words of the crowd, the Pharisees, and the other characters in the drama, using block harmonies often spiced with tasty dissonance. Inhabiting a third and utterly different musical world is the figure of Christ, who intones his speeches at a glacial pace within a very restrictive melodic range, creating a sense of otherworldliness that is beyond ordinary time or place. Bass David Newman, singing with a dry, straight tone, managed to give character and shape to the long and drawn-out lines of the role. The most interesting music is that of the narrative quartet, which delivers its Latin text in the form of halting, medieval-sounding chant evocative of the 14th century polyphonists that Pärt so lovingly studied. There is no meter or pulse here save the sheer propulsion of the Latin text. Simple chordal harmonies slide effortlessly into pungent dissonances that are as much of our own age as of the Middle Ages. Each sentence or phrase stands utterly alone, with no forward momentum. Long, telling silences separate each utterance from the next. Narrative thrust and dramatic impulse are absent.
Just as in medieval chant, there is no hint of an attempt at text painting. In the scene depicting Christ's arrest in the garden, for example, when Peter attacks a threatening soldier's servant, the words "abscidit auriculam eius dexteram" ("he cut off his right ear") ambled by as nonchalantly as the rest of the text. The four singers of Sogni d'oro offered precise diction and careful intonation, but sometimes lacked an ideal sonic balance, especially in the inner voices. With its serenity and tonal simplicity, rarely wandering from a few main key centers, Pärt's score is designed to offer a sublimely transporting experience to those who are open to it. To the rest it poses the threat of supreme tedium. For myself, I was drawn into Pärt's seductive pseudo-medieval world for the first 45 minutes of the 75-minute Passion, beyond which the tedium factor began to take its toll. Conductor Stewart capably marshaled his forces with a calm and steady hand, confidently and patiently allowing the prominent silences to have their moment and make their effect. The chorus delivered an impressive and full sound that could have been made more exciting by truly exact and precise ensemble. The smallish crowd on a rainy Sunday was well rewarded with a performance that was highly professional and dedicated a serious exploration of Arvo Pärt's special world of relentless tranquility. (Clifford (Kip) Cranna is Musical Administrator of the San Francisco Opera, Program Advisor for the Carmel Bach Festival, and a frequent lecturer on music appreciation.) ©2001 Kip Cranna, all rights reserved |