Guernsey Bach Choir

a review by Julia Meredith

Several years ago, Alan Gough MBE, conductor of the Guernsey Bach Choir, decided to move their big Christmas concert from December to January. It felt counterintuitive, but the past couple of years have only proved how much need there is for musical warmth and brilliance in the bleak aftermath of Christmas and New Year.

And warmth and brilliance there was in bucketloads. As St James’s glowing stage filled up with instruments, I could only muse on the abundance of homegrown talent Alan has to call on. Tell me another town of 60 000-odd inhabitants which could muster sufficient accomplished musicians to perform works of such complexity – intricate and fast-moving – or boast an individual capable of directing a full orchestra, plus about thirty singers split into four parts, not to mention four soloists! Besides sheer virtuosity you have to applaud the nerve to take on such an Everest – and at the sickliest time of year. A nervous breakdown would feel more in order.

Against this huge backdrop of performers Alan appeared dwarfed. But as he shared a bit of background to the works we were to hear, I realised that large scale doesn’t have to make a concert impersonal. His passion and enthusiasm draw you in, and make the audience eager collaborators in the feast to come. It’s a rare skill.
Mozart’s Regina Coeli K108 was written when he was fifteen, shortly after returning from Italy. The orchestra opened, brisk and confident, soon magnified by the choir in a rich tide of harmony in praise of the Queen of Heaven. The choir were then joined by guest soloist, the ravishingly-voiced soprano, Nicki Kennedy. I say ‘guest’, but these four singers, for all their international careers, have returned to the island over many years to join the Bach Choir in concert, and it gives their performances an ease, a familiarity, which again builds that hard-to-manufacture intimacy with both players and audiences. I loved the way Nicki talked to us in song – communicating on every level the meaning of her words while negotiating all the hairpin bends and top notes that Mozart throws at her. The jubilant Allelujah brought all together in a great outburst of rejoicing.
The second and central work of the evening was Bach’s Cantata BWV 190. As Alan explained, this cantata, written for the new year, survived only in fragments, and was reconstructed by Masaaki Suzuki of the Collegium Vocale Japan. Keen as I was to try and spot the ‘fill ins’, it was all in vain: the sense of authenticity and seamlessness couldn’t be faulted.

The exultation of the opening chorus, ‘Sing to the Lord a new song’ thrilled with trumpets, eagerly hurrying forward to each new flourish of golden sound. There’s no room for stragglers: the ferocious attention the Choir pay to their conductor shows how tuned in they are to his cues.
Now it was our chance to hear the three other soloists – Alexandra Gibson, Alto, Nicholas Hurndall-Smith, Tenor, and Andrew Rupp, Bass – weaving their distinctive voices around the chorale, each bringing individual character and expression to their parts. One gets the feeling these singers really enjoy the experience of singing under Alan’s direction – there’s an impression of familiarity and of trust in his judgement. It permits the audience too, to relax and lose themselves in the beauty of the music, knowing everything’s in safe hands. When the final chorale poured out overhead it was hard to believe so demanding a work could be over already… there was no sense of effort and practice (of which I have not doubt!), but of a glorious gift, delivered with spontaneity and grace.

After a fortifying interval (needed more by the performers I suspect) we returned for the splendour of Haydn’s Maria Theresa Mass. Haydn’s genius as a composer in combining distinct parts has given this work great versatility: a perfect weaving of voices, individual and choral and instrumental, into a majestic whole.

It opens with the Kyrie. The orchestra introduces a vocal quartet, harmonising richly with the chorus before the soloists move into the foreground, so we can appreciate the character of each voice. The Gloria is vigorous and elated – Alan was literally kept on his toes bringing in the myriad parts and keeping the lively pace zipping along with no slackening. It was exhilarating. (Which makes one think: does one ever see a fat conductor?! I think they burn off so much nervous energy it’s just not a possibility…)

In the Gratias and Quoniam the solo parts were all delivered with full-bodied eloquence, making the most of the measured tempo to let us hear the flavour of each individual timbre before they recombine seamlessly with the Choir and orchestra.
The Credo gives us a nicely muscular statement of faith – no doubts here! It swings along and catches us up in its conviction, before the more reflective Soprano leads into the Incarnation and Resurrection, the seriousness of its subject given exquisite gravitas by the other three voices.

I was struck throughout this Mass at the soloists’ ability to communicate with such dramatic power while not faltering in pitch or tempo …their message is clear, just as the loveliness of their sound answers something less analytical.
The Sanctus has a sublime dignity, building to a full-throated shout of rejoicing,.. before the more intimate Benedictus allowed our soloists to step forward and allow their voices full rein above the orchestra and choir, who showed great sensitivity to their role as accompanists.
Haydn’s mastery in treating voices almost as another musical instrument is at its finest in the Agnus Dei, which builds and swells into a full-throated call for peace. Written in 1799 it might have been, but what could feel more attuned to our world right now? And what could provide a more heartening escape from the chill and madness outside? One can’t help feeling the deepest gratitude that firstly, such music was ever created, and then could be made to sound so fresh, vivid and satisfying 327 years later, in this most magnificent of settings.

a review by Julia Meredith