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CHORAL MUSIC REVIEW
March 6, 2005
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By Heuwell Tircuit
One of the odd things about the music scene is how seldom local
performers explore the riches of Latin America's art music. One bright
exception was the recent Sunday concert of the Volti chamber choir in the North Beach Shrine of Saint Francis of Assisi church. Founder Bob Geary formed and led a bravura program of ten 20th-century composers, including premieres of two Volti commissions.
Ranging from Mexico to Argentina, the program opened with Roberto
Sierra's Lux Aeterna (2003), Roberto Caamano's SalmoVI (1952), Pablo Ortiz' The Darkling Thrust and Epithalamica (both 1997), then Alberto Ginastera's Lamentations of Jeremiah (1946). The second part offered the traditional Arbolucu, Te Sequeste as arranged by Carlos Chavez in 1942, the premiere of Carlos Sanchez-Gutierrez' Subandi Little offering (2004), Felipe Perez-Santiago's Pronto Desaparecermos (2003), and the commissioned Ccollanan Maria (2004)
of Gabriela Lena Frank. As a final set, we heard three light pieces
in commercial style: Jose Rincon's Bullerengue(1992), Beatriz
Corona's Corazon, Coraza (no date mentioned), and Miguel Matamoros' Son de la Loma (1930) as arranged by Conrado Monier. The program was capped by ovations, but after so much singing, Volti added no encore.
It pretty much goes without saying that the more famous composers
contributed the major interest, especially the marvelous Jeremiah
setting of Ginastera. Even though the three sections are early works
written during his exile in this country (thanks to Peron), the man's
originality was already outstanding. The first of three movements, for
instance, was furious sounding in angular, irregular rhythms a tad
influenced by Stravinsky. One hardly expects such in laments.
This was followed by an elegiac second section and a third of almost
pastoral glow. Throughout, the vocal writing was superb, as indeed it
always was in his songs and operas.
Chavez also offered a few surprises. Rather than color his setting with Mexican folklorico, he set the rather famous Arbolucu with bits of dissonant harmony in modal colors. Oddly enough, it ended up hinting at Eastern European music. Yet it remained firmly Latin in effect and very pleasant to experience. I only wish someone would program Chavez' fine choral cantata El Sol, which I've not encountered in 40 years. I can still remember bits of it — it left that strong an impression: "Oh sun, daily you shine down on us, and daily you see us poor." Sierra, originally from Puerto Rico, completed his studies with Ligeti over a period of seven years. His setting of the Lux Aeterna showed only hints of the master's style. Sierra did employ some of the close canonic techniques common to early Ligeti, but minus his microtonal cluster effects. The overall, sung from the rear choir balcony of the church, created a deeply devout effect, the sonorities rounding the room free of echo. It was like undated antique choral music, an extemely effective piece that deserves repeating. I only wish that Volti had sung the entire program from the church's choir, for it would have been more magical in sound, not to mention more flattering to the choral sound. Ortiz' two choral songs — the first a setting of Thomas Hardy, and the second from Peter Abelard — suffered from text obsession. Ortiz, an Argentinian, seemed so concerned with having the text sound out clearly that he neglected the purely melodic aspects. Too much was delivered like chant, albeit sung chant. And for a composer trained in electronics, the result proved surprisingly conventional, all the more so in view of his many awards and honors.
Caamano's setting of Psalm VI was devout, but by far the most conservative piece of the evening. In the conservative Argentina of the Perons, I guess he had no other course. One has only to consider what had happened to Ginastera, whom I consider one of 20th Century's major masters. Caamano's piece is "nice", but no more than that. Mexican Sanchez-Gutierrez's four terse songs were inspired by his visit to Bali, and very enjoyable indeed without resorting to kitsch. Aside from the use of pentatonic references, they did not sound particularly Balinese to me: no references to gamelan or the choral chantings that accompany dance performances there. The piece is all the finer for that, certainly a commission well worthy of its fee. Mexico was again represented in the music of Perez-Santiago, a man much commissioned and played around the world.. He apparently writes everything from pops to complex, mildly avant-garde, having worked in TV, films, opera, dance, et al. He threw a special sort of curve at Volti by setting his complex harmonies in the Aztec language. Madonna! How many singers know a single word of Aztec? But they pulled it off, I think. Anyway, the choir seemed to enjoy trying. Soprano Tonia D'Amelio sang the fairly extensive solos, sounding a little stressed in places.
Frank set a traditional religious song to the Virgin Mary from Cuzco, Peru. This time the setting was in a mixture of Spanish and the Incan Quechua. The writing proved reliable and thoroughly professional, but rather too ordinary to command much attention. It fell on my ears as a bit of New Age sentimentality, a direction which has already worn thin for most of us. Ricon, a Columbian, called for two percussion instruments in his Afro-Spanish setting: little wooden clappers like claves, and a small hand-held drum. These were played by members of the choir to help the jaunty little folk setting along. Cubans Corona and Matamoros were each represented by more of the same folksy manner, although in a more overtly commercial fashion. That's all right — a little dessert after a rich meal is always welcome.
(Heuwell Tircuit, composer, performer and writer, was chief writer for Gramophone Japan and for 21 years a music reviewer for the SF Chronicle, previously for the Chicago American and Asahi Evening News.)
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