Alfred Schnittke - Concerto for Choir

Alfred Schnittke 'Concerto for Choir' - The Cantus Ensemble - Jesuit Church of the Immaculate Conception Farm Street - Saturday 8th November 2025.

Alfred Schnittke (1934-1998) was a self-defined 'polystylist' composer who often introduced contrasting, even conflicting elements in the same work - heterogeneous ideas yoked by violence together to borrow Dr Johnson's famous definition of metaphysical poetry. This polystylism extends to his work over all. Schnittke wrote a good deal of film music, which is thoroughly accessable but also an opera 'Life With an Idiot' which, as anyone who saw the ENO production in 1995 will attest, makes a range of extreme demands on the audience, although the overall effect is undeniably powerful. Later in his comparatively short life Schnittke was drawn to Catholicism and the conflict between the love of God, desire for redemption and acknowledgement of man's sinful condition, forms the background to 'Concerto for Choir' (1984/5).

The four movements set words from the third chapter of 'The Book of Lamentations' by Armenian monk Grigor Narakatski (951-1003). The text is often dark and self-flagellatory (I, an expert in human passions, composed these songs, where every verse is filled to the brim with black sorrow) but saved from despair by the the oft stated confidence in God's infinite love and mercy (You are limitless and omnipresent, our sweetest honey and daily bread). Schnittke himself said that 'I wrote music which was evoked by the text, but not the music I wanted to write.' What we hear is a mainly slow moving, monumental composition, strongly influenced by later 18th and 19th century Russian choral music, but, as the erudite programme note for the performance points out, also 'a sort of microcosm or vocabulary of Schnittke's personal musical language in its most open and clearly visible form.' The choir divides into as many as twenty parts and although the music has an immediate, visceral effect, it is born out of writing of considerable complexity. This is perhaps best demonstrated by the end of the third movement which evokes a 'storm of unbelief' which is then calmed with a D major cadence. This is music which, again to quote the programme of the Cantus concert, 'asks each singer...to stretch every sinew'.

The original performers were the USSR Ministry of Culture Chamber Choir conducted by Valery Polyanski. They recorded the piece in 1998, and very good they are too. As might be expected, their sound is rich, warm and dark, the foundation being the sort of basso profundi section that really cannot be found outside eastern europe. The contrast with the performance by Stephen Layton and The Holst Singers is marked, as the English (Anglican) choral tradition is typified by a light, bright open sound with minimum vibrato. That is not to say the Russian sopranos are squally; their sound is actually quite straight, but they lack the refinement of their English counterparts. Performances by the Bavarian and Stuttgart Radio Choirs are expert and polished - perhaps closer to the English model. All performances are sung in Russian, and this is where Polyanski's forces obviously have an advantage. I don't speak Russian, but there is a tonal authenticity to the Ministry of Culture Choir that comes with idiomatic pronunciation. Having said that, this a Concerto for Choir, not just a Russian Choir, and every performance I have listened to has been a legitimate interpretation. There is more than one way to approach this profoundly moving work.

To turn to the performance given by The Cantus Ensemble conducted by Dominic Brennan in the glorious setting of Farm Street Jesuit Church. This is a medium sized ensemble of about 40 voices. These are amateur singers, but I imagine most if not all have a choral scholar background or similar, and have to pass an audition to join the choir. This is a relatively youthful group - I would guess the average age is under 35. I found nothing to fault in a performance that was a tribute to their individual and collective abilities. To begin with the bass foundation mentioned earlier; this was securely in place, the lowest depths being plumbed without fuss. At the other end of the stave, the sopranos scaled the considerable heights with confidence and gleaming timbre. Solos were handled with sweet toned aplomb. The altos produced a notably rich sound , while the tenors (including - nepotism alert - my son Sam Herman-Wilson) although, inevitably, the section fewest in number, did sterling work together and also in some alarmingly exposed solo writing. Actor Mitch Howell read the text at the beginning of each movement, and this was a useful aide-memoire, more for general mood than anything more specific. As a non-Russian speaker I could not decipher textual detail but the emotion behind the text spoke very clearly. Holding all this together, Dominic Brennan conducted with exemplary control and no little charisma. This was a glorious evening which reflected credit on all concerned.