San Francisco Classical Voice

The relatively short Bach motet in two sections for double choir – four parts chorus to the left and four to the right – takes only about eight minutes to perform. Curiously for a funeral motet, the bright and downright chipper music seemed aimed at consoling the bereaved, or was a mildly historic sarcastic gesture. Bach had been under the obtrusive thumb of the headmaster of the University of Leipzig, Johann Henrich Ernesti. His death in 1729 prompted the commission of the motet by the University. So Bach and his colleagues may well have been pleased to be rid of the old head.

Bach's contrapuntal slight of hand almost belies the sheer mastery of technique in “Der Geist.” Even without the orchestral support indicated in the score – pretty non-intrusive stuff – the performance shone out with superb balances and clean articulation. Every bit of the text was clear, with superb articulation and rhythmic pointing added with scholarly precision. Best of all was the sense of style — light, rich in color and with never a hint of turgid pomp.

Gibbons (1583-1625), like Bach, was a great master of counterpoint who became best known in his lifetime as an organist. He served a number of major posts in his latter career: the Chapel Royal, Westminister Abbey, private virginalist to the King and such. But unlike most of his fellow church musicians, Gibbons left us a good deal of sterling instrumental music. His Resurrection anthem offered a fine example of a composer we really need to hear more often. It's wonderful music by a seriously major composer, and again, wonderfully performed by these young singers.

Parry and Stanford were each more renowned as teachers than composers, each notably suppressed by Victorian aversion to native compositions. Daring originality was frowned upon. Actually, the first of Stanford's farewells (“My soul, there is a country”) is quite the most effective music I have heard of his. The other two songs were at best so-so, verging on the overtly ordinary. Stanford's piece, however, was pomposity of the circumstantial kind, bordering on vulgarity. He, however, was a tremendously important influence on 20th-century English music, because of his solid talent as a teacher.. His students included, among others, Vaughan Williams, Holst, Bliss, Bridge and Britten.

Missa brevis' normally offer only two sections of the mass text: the ”Kyrie” and ”Gloria.” Kodaly's Missa, tinged with Bach-like moments, went its own way. He opened with a full organ prelude and the ”Kyrie.” But rather than the traditional ”Gloria,” Kodaly added the ”Credo,” skipping over the ”Gloria.” That Kodaly manages to hold that catalog list together so neatly in this 1944 composition speaks up for his great understanding of formal clarity. The richly elegant performance left nothing to be desired, with wonderful standards exhibited throughout.

Finally, Britten's large Rejoice in the Lamb cantata (in eight sections) made its best impact when the entire choir was singing. The various solos spread through the score sounded musically honorable, but also exposed the youth of their soloists. That was acute when they ascended into upper registers, obviously thin air for them.

I mentioned disappointments. First, Bach's motet “Komm, Jesu, Komm” on the program was replaced with “Der Geist.” Both are masterpieces, but the former just happens to be my favorite Bach composition. (Sigh.) More serious was the dropping of the Tallis and Purcell on the original announced program. That loss was an especially acute in the case of Tallis, who was virtually the father of true British music. And 2005 marks the 500th Anniversary of his birth — or anyway, that's the best date anyone has come up with. It's a double shame, since virtually nothing I've heard about has been done to honor Tallis locally this season.

Such nitpicking aside, the concert was a triumph for both the choir and Old First. The event drew a large house, which cheered to the rafters and the musicians deserved every decibel of it.