Dupré's De Profundis op. 18 is a haunting work: once heard it resonates powerfully in the memory and it seems inconceivable how it could languished unperformed after the composer's death. It could now be said to be one of this choir's trademark works - they have performed it several times and recorded it to much acclaim. The choir approaches the work with deep understanding: with Jeremy Backhouse, they have the measure of the music's dark passion, as well as its rare moments of illumination.
In this performance, the choir's balanced tone was never sacrificed to mere theatricality despite the intensity of some sections of the work. Exposed lines were handled with confidence - especially the tenors' phrase that starts movement 7, 'Quia apud Dominum', rising to a top A at 'redemptio'. The start of the third movement, 'Sustinuit anima mea', which is an unaccompanied fugato, was beautifully handled, achieving a melancholic delicacy of tone. Other sections were robust, seering in places, as in the impassioned eighth movement. The ninth movement reached a splendid climax in the solo trio, and the choir matched the mood perfectly in their concluding 'et lux perpetua' - ending with an exquisite octave F sharp for the women.
The soprano and tenor soloists in the Dupré, Ghislaine Morgan and John Upperton, did not sound very comfortable (John Upperton in particular had some awkward moments in his solo movement) but Colin Campbell, in fine voice, made the most of his involvement in the duet 'A custodia matutina'.
Duruflé's Requiem, as Georges Paon pointed out in his programme note, can lay claim to being the best-known Requiem of the 20th century. Though it consciously evokes the letter of Fauré's setting in many ways, it creates a very different musical experience, at once more remote and more complex. Perhaps, as for Dupré, the proximity of war cast a long shadow. This makes it a problematic piece: most performances ignore the darker side of the music and concentrate on its flowing, plainchant-inspired melodic contours and sensuous harmonies. Approached this way, the original orchestration can sound particularly uncomfortable, but the work is scarcely more straightforward when using the organ version. In this performance the choir seemed alive to some of the inner drama of the music - sombre in tone throughout, they were vehement in the cries of 'libera eas' in the 'Domine Jesu Christe' and profoundly eloquent in the unaccompanied phrase-endings ('quia pius es') in the 'Lux aeterna'. Overall, their performance demonstrated a fierce attention and commitment rarely heard what can all too often be treated merely as a pot-boiler.
Soloists Julia Field (accompanied by cellist Katharine Wood in the 'Pie Jesu') and Colin Campbell ('Hostias' and 'Tremens factus') were both excellent.
The organist for this concert was Christopher Cromar. He has strong credentials in French repertoire, having studied in Paris with teachers including Naji Hakim and Marie-Louise Langlais. His playing on this occasion was neat but somewhat lacking in imagination. Perhaps the spatial separation between the organ and the stage at St John's did not help; perhaps too the organ still needs a few years of dust in the pipes to mellow its forcefulness. The colours he drew from the organ were inclined to be too bright - primary colours in full sunlight rather than the subtle shades and dappled lighting that, in particular, Duruflé's detailed registration indications suggest. The balance of some sections in the second half needed far greater attention: the cromorne that the composer specifies in the 'Hostias' was particularly unrestrained, sounding coarse instead of gently pleading. A technical problem at the start of the third movement of Duruflé may well have caused some lack of poise, and he was (understandably) slightly nervous for the rest of the performance.
Copyright © David Bray 2002