Jamie Sansbury, Musical Director of the Glasgow School of Art Choir, shares a selection of music in which he has found some comfort during the Coronavirus lockdown. Read about his choices and listen to the songs below.
With most people across the country at home more often than usual just now, many are turning to music to help them through (or, at the very least, to pass) these uncertain times. Over the last two months I have been listening to a large amount of music; most of it choral – perhaps in an attempt to stave off the loneliness which comes from working at home rather than in my usual office environment – but also a great many other, varied styles.
My listening habits could be described as eclectic (classical, contemporary, jazz, opera, musical theatre to name a few) but there are several works to which I return again and again. There is something about each of them which seems to remove me from the present time when I hear them, taking me to a place of timelessness or, at the very least, where I can forget the troubles of here and now. Take a listen, be transported, and enjoy.
O Oriens
O Oriens was one of the first choral works I came across by Cecilia McDowall (one of the composers commissioned by the GSA Choir for Composeher) and proved a wonderful introduction to Cecilia’s unique choral sound world: the close-knit harmonies and expansive melody seem almost other-worldly, particularly in this performance by the Choir of St. John’s College, Cambridge.
In tempus praesens
This remains my favourite work by Russian composer, Sofia Gubaidulina, and the world premiere recording featuring the works dedicatee, Anne-Sophie Mutter, is one my most treasured recordings. The work is visceral, varied, and stretches the violin (and violinist) to the very limits of their technical abilities as a journey is navigated from darkness through to light. Gubaidulina is devoutly Russian Orthodox, but, even if you listen to this without any religious inclination, there is something profoundly optimistic in the notion of light overcoming darkness.
Fünf Lieder, 3. Laue Sommernacht
This rendition, by Barbara Hannigan, of the third movement in Alma Mahler’s Fünf Lieder (Five Songs) tells of two lovers meeting deep in the woods on a starless night. The title translates as Warm Summer Night and there, in the darkness, the love of the singer and her beau illuminates the scene. Hannigan is one of my favourite artists and she sings this with such tenderness, all the while retaining a sense of breathless anticipation to be meeting her loved one. Her latest album, La Passione, released last month, is another which has been frequently played during lockdown.
Prince of Clouds
I heard this performed live by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra and Pekka Kuusisto last year and I am ashamed to admit it was the first time I had heard any works by British composer, Anna Clyne. I was captivated by the work and the SCO’s performance of it – all the players stood in a tight semi-circle, on an almost empty stage, which gave the moment a true feeling of chamber music. After listening to it, and another of Anna’s works programmed that evening – the world premiere of Sound and Fury – I sought out more of Anna’s work.
A Hymn to God the Father
This piece, by Elizabeth Maconchy starts out sounding like a ‘traditional’ church hymn (or resembling something which many would associate with church singing). However, as the verses progress the harmonies become more and more dissonant – and progressively unexpected – until the piece reaches a simple, contemplative resolution at the end of the work. I love this recording by the BBC Singers as you can hear the resonance of the space in which the work was recorded, and the echoes seem to emphasise the overlapping sustained notes of the close harmonies. I also love Maconchy’s String Quartets and would encourage anyone to listen the entire cycle (there are thirteen in total), particularly the recording by the Bingham String Quartet.
Piano Concerto in C-Sharp Minor, 1. Allegro Moderato
I adore Amy Beach’s Piano Concerto which really is a work of contrasts. I am particularly fond of the first movement, especially the melody which enters at 5:12, followed closely by the entry of the solo violin at 6:00, soaring above. The movement also closes with a terrific cadenza where the pianist – in this recording, Alan Feinberg – performs an astonishingly fast and difficult passage which seems worlds away from the tender violin solo mentioned earlier. This virtuosic ending leads into the second movement, Scherzo Vivace, where the solo pianist plays ceaseless quavers throughout.
The People’s Mass: Prayer
This work, written by another of our Composeher composers, Rebecca Rowe, was written as part of the multi-composer work, The People’s Mass, commissioned by the Dunedin Consort. It is fascinating to hear, in the final work, the different approaches used by the individual composers in responding to their respective texts and I love this movement by Rebecca, for Baritone and harp. Although the movement is relatively short, it encompasses a whole gamut of emotions, with moments of pure ecstasy. The lyrics also seem particularly apt as we try to find peace in these troubled times:
‘I believe that behind the mist the sun waits. I believe that beyond the dark night it is raining stars….I believe that this lost ship will reach port. They will not rob me of hope, it shall not be broken, it shall not be broken.’