"Are all choral concerts like this?" asked my extremely sensitive sister-in-law. Had she not continued her thought, I could have responded in many ways.
"No, they are not," I might have said. Of the thousands upon thousands of choral groups that grace the American landscape, precious few are as fine-tuned and impeccably voiced as San Francisco Choral Artists. Even close up, in the second row of Oakland's St. Paul's Episcopal Church, where the fine acoustic covers precious little, the voices blend smoothly. The soloists are also exceptionally poised, with mostly excellent diction and nigh-perfect timing. No wonder Choral Artists was chosen to sing eight of the pieces on the program we had just heard offered to some 1,000 choral conductors who recently attended the American Choral Conductors Association Western Division Convention.
San Francisco Choral Artists
But that was not all that Janet asked. "Does all choral music tend to blend together and sound so indistinguishable?"
Well, no. Nor was all the music the same, by a long shot. Especially in the first half, there were some interesting dissonances, some unusual (if hardly spiky) harmonies, and a variety of tempos. (I'll talk about those shortly.) But in this "Music Home-Grown" concert of 19 short pieces (22 selections total), which included music by 14 composers who have written or arranged music for the ensemble over the quarter century of its existence, there was an unquestionable sameness of dynamics — lots of shades of piano, with hardly a fortissimo to be heard — and a sameness of affect. It was an afternoon of lovely singing of lovely music.
No fewer than three times during the course of the afternoon, the sounds of sirens punctuated the sweetness. If the mind chose to leave the music and follow the sirens, I could perhaps imagine an emergency vehicle or two, rushing from the scene of Oakland's latest homicide, heading toward nearby Kaiser or Pill Hill. But inside St. Paul's, where not a singer was fazed, nor a cell phone was heard, all was springtime loveliness.
Spoken Introductions
The concert was divided into five sections: "Voices of Poets," "Sacred Spaces," "American Vernacular," "American Sacred Tradition," and "In Our Backyard." Rather than supplying copious program notes and composer biographies, which in the case of so many different composers and arrangers would have cost the lives of several trees, Artistic Director and Conductor Magen Solomon briskly introduced most selections. Her commentary was informative, covering the unusual seventh at the end of Mark Winges' Agnus Dei and the poetic imagery of Herbert Bielawa's Dance. We learned that four of the composers were current or former Choral Artist singers, and that six have served as composers in residence. And we smiled in turn.
Two selections from former Composer in Residence Bielawa's Sojourner Songs distinguished the first section. "The Magic" had a truly magical melody, its rapidly repeated 16th notes seeming like little bursts of light or a flock of hummingbirds flitting about. The "fluffy flowers" in "Dance" seemed to dance about — the music was that full of promise and life.
In the "Sacred Spaces" section, only a confirmed grinch might have failed to warm to John Karl Hirten's Child of Sweetness, in which the words "O my child" were repeated as if rocking an infant to sleep. Winges' Agnus Dei was also something special (as is much of his music), instantaneously creating a sense of sacred space.
Current Composer in Residence Robin Estrada's Awit sa Panginoon presented a curious juxtaposition between Filipino chant and bel canto phrasing. (One short section seemed snatched from Bellini's Mira, o Norma.) But despite some of the most energetic singing of the afternoon, the performance lacked a vibrant edge. Everything was too homogenized, too contained, too sweet. If these perchance were native chants, you can bet your bottom dollar that the natives had been properly clothed by Christian missionaries before being allowed to sing.
More Piquancy Needed
The "American Vernacular" section of the program served up four works. Peter Urquhart's The Chickens They Are Crowin' was as droll as it sounds, and Ted Allen's Coyote Song / ¡Ay Susanita! was a delightful south-of-the-border variation of Oh Susannah! "Wants more bite and vigor — too polite," I wrote in my notes.
After intermission, the "American Sacred Tradition" section yielded five predictably harmonious classics. I kept longing for large choirs, massed voices, huge waves of energy. (Others might have opted for a latté.) Sacred does not necessarily mean soft and gentle.
The final section, "In Our Backyard," began with Kirke Mechem's Loveliest of Trees and ended with Henry Mollicone's National Weather Forecast. There were blizzards in the Midwest and thunderstorms back east, but, as the song kept reminding us, in California it was always "sunny and mild." In St. Paul's, as well. As I exited into a chilly breeze, this lover of Mozart, Schubert, and Brahms kept longing for some Alban Berg.
Jason Victor Serinus regularly reviews music and audio for Stereophile, SFCV, Classical Voice North America, AudioStream, American Record Guide, and other publications. The whistling voice of Woodstock in She’s a Good Skate, Charlie Brown, the longtime Oakland resident now resides in Port Townsend, Washington.
