Messages across the divide

Our support for singer son Sam took us to the church of St Mary at Hill in Billingsgate London, for an enterprising and most moving concert given by ‘The Cantus Ensemble’.

The first half was devoted to the Musikalische Exequien by Heinrich Schutz, which were written for the burial service of the splendidly named Prince Heinrich Posthumus von Reuss. There are three sections:

Teil I: Concert in Form einer teutschen Begräbnis-Missa

Part I: Concerto in the form of a German burial Mass

Teil II: Motette “Herr, wenn ich nur dich habe”

Part II: Motet “Lord, if I have but Thee”

Teil III: Canticum Simeonis

Part III: Canticle of the blessed Simeon

This is music of serious grandeur intended for a Lutheran congregation for whom, in the words of the eloquent programme note, ‘Death was an answer, a resolution, a reward. Peace could finally arrive with death. It was the central event of a righteous life – clearly, personally and achingly longed for.' The austere surroundings of St Mary at Hill proved an ideal setting. There was little church decoration to distract the attentive audience and the resonance of this largely unadorned stone cube showed this splendid choir to excellent advantage. The tutti singing was full-blooded and well balanced, and it was an fine notion to divide solos between all choir members – something I do not remember happening before with a group of this size (about 30) in this type of music. The sombre message of the text landed with gentle directness: ‘Naked came I out of my mother's womb, naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.’

A special shout out to the tenors (and yes, son Sam is one) who were most impressive, but this was a performance to which every single choir member offered a memorable contribution. The audience was clearly deeply moved.

The second half provided something perhaps even more special, because the profound effect was unexpected (by me, at any event). ‘Mass Transmission’ by American Composer Mason Bates (b. 1977) has an unusual, indeed unique premiss.

Commissioned by the San Francisco Symphony for their 2012 Mavericks Festival, ‘Mass Transmission’ brings to life the true story of a distantly-separated mother and daughter speaking over the first long-distance radio transmissions between Holland and Java. Ethereal choral sonorities processed through a haze of radio static unfold into virtuosic organ toccatas. The texts for outer movements of the work – from the eyes of the mother – are adapted from an obscure 1928 government publication about the technological advances made by the Dutch in communicating with their colonists. The text for the central portion of the work – from the eyes of the daughter – is adapted from the diary of a Dutch girl growing up in Java.

If this material seemed unpromising, such misgivings were swept away by the haunting opening bars where radio static mingles with the ghostly fragment of a broadcast popular song. The distance created by this electronic element is banished by choral music of an individual and accessible cast where a mother and daughter’s emotional but constrained radio conversation is juxtaposed with the daughter’s quiet delight in the beauties of Java, beauties emphasised by hints of gamelan music in the texture. This is a richly emotional response to the text, reminding me at times of John Adams, while still impressing as utterly individual.

‘Cantus’ did this wonderful piece full justice, with the final conversation between mother and daughter achieving particular poignancy. This was all the more moving because the two soloists were not operatically demonstrative but pure and restrained, which suited the text:

Are you there, mum?

Yes, dear. I can definitely recognise your voice.

Is everything fine with you, mum?

Yes, my child… so good to hear your voice.

I miss you, mum.

I miss you too, my child.

Well. It's hot here in Java.

And it's storming here in Holland.

Is grandpa with you?

No, he could not come.

OK. Have a good night mum.

Goodnight, dear.

Choral singing was totally secure, by turns lyrically poised and viscerally exciting. Robin Walker’s virtuosic organ playing hit home with tremendous force. But above all, plaudits are due to conductor Dominic Brennan, admirably undemonstrative, but totally in command of the very different idioms of the two halves of the concert.

Audience reaction was ecstatic. We knew we had witnessed something very special.