Actus Tragicus

Greyfriars Kirk Edinburgh 7/3/25

Dunedin Consort, John Butt director & harpsichord, Nardus Williams soprano, Jess Dandy contralto, Ed Lyon tenor, Roderick Williams baritone

The very lovely Greyfriars Kirk in Edinburgh was the venue for a Dunedin Consort performance of an eclectic selection of 4 cantatas on the topic of death, on the night of 7th March, under the direction of John Butt.  As is customary in the ensemble’s performances of this repertoire, a chorus of 8 vocalists, including the 4 vocal soloists, was accompanied by a band of period instruments, that night comprising the director on harpsichord, violin, violas da gamba, cellos, bass, oboe, 2 recorders, bassoon and continuo organ.  Due to the prominence of the Queen’s Hall logo at the head of all publicity for the concert (as the source for tickets, I failed to realise), I mistakenly headed there first and arrived on foot at the Kirk too late for the first item, Zelenka’s ‘Lamentation I for Holy Saturday’.  What I heard from the porch of the Kirk of Ed Lyon’s warmly plaintive tenor timbre in conversation with the instruments was very fine, tempering my regret for my inattentiveness with expectations of the goodies to come.  The other three soloists were soprano Nardus Williams, contralto Jess Dandy and, particularly eagerly anticipated, baritone Roderick Williams.

As ever, the sound of the Dunedin Consort’s instrumentalists tuning was a pleasurable musical experience in itself, before Telemann’s ‘Du aber, Daniel, gehe hin’, a funeral cantata for bass, soprano, instruments and chorus with a consolatory message, was performed.  A very lovely instrumental introduction led to a declamatory chorus, the voice of God addressing Daniel.  This was followed by a sequence for Roderick Williams, consisting of an expressive recitative, a tripping aria with dotted rhythms, a legato triple-time arioso and a concluding recitative.  Gorgeous.  Next was Nardus Williams’ chance to shine, with her own recitative, followed by a magical aria, ‘Brecht, ihr müden Augenlieder’, with a slow walking bass and conversation with viola da gamba and cello.  The cantata closed with an extended recitative for baritone again, with plaintive oboe and recorders, and a concluding final chorus, ‘Gebeine, schlaft wohl’.  I cannot recall ever hearing a piece by the hugely prolific Telemann that I didn’t love, but this cantata is a true gem shining even amongst the many other treasures.  The Dunedin Consort and guest soloists tasked themselves with convincing the audience of its worth – they succeeded magnificently.

The headline work, first after the interval was Bach’s cantata ‘Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit’, nicknamed the ‘Actus tragicus’.  All four soloists were in play.  After a heartrendingly beautiful introductory Sonatina where pairs of violas da gamba and recorders wove a plaintive melody that reached into the grave and up towards Paradise simultaneously, there was an upbeat optimistic chorus, song by the four non-soloists, a very pleasing texture.  A contemplative  tenor arioso was followed by a brisk triple-time aria from Roderick.  The first sequence concluded with a 3-part fugal chorus and a gorgeously ornamented arioso from Nardus – delicious.   Jess Dandy’s exquisite aria ‘In deine Hände befehl ich meinen Geist’ was answered by Roderick’s ‘Heute wirst du mit mir im Paradies sein’, segueing into a chorale tune ‘Mit Fried und Freud’.  Perfect.  The final chorus rejoiced – death has been conquered.  Nothing more to say except “Ah, Bach!”.

The programme concluded with the UK premiere of Irish composer David Fennessy’s ‘Bog Cantata’, a work inspired by the intriguing phenomenon of ‘bog bodies’, ancient corpses preserved by the peat bogs in Ireland’s midlands, especially the Bog of Allen which covers extensive tracts of counties Offaly, Laois, Kildare and Westmeath.  Many of the bog bodies that were discovered had met violent ends.  Peat is harvested from the Bog of Allen for processing as fuel, whilst sphagnum moss peat is harvested as a natural soil conditioner for horticulture.  In my youth in the early 1970s, my father used to drive the family out on trips to the Bog of Allen, where we would have a summer picnic, then shovel moss peat into bags which we heaved into the boot to take home for the garden.  Although I have memories of a flat desolate landscape, I also have vivid memories of a sleepy summer afternoon with dragonflies playing in the reeds by the Grand Canal near Rathangan.  Years later in late 1988, while working as a teacher in Abu Dhabi, I spent my first Middle-East Christmas touring Oman by car.  In the coastal town of Sohar, reputedly the birthplace of Sindbad, I was delighted to see a bag of Irish Moss Peat by a garden in the town.  True story.

I have written before of ‘uaigneas’, an Irish word for the chilling loneliness of the grave.  In ‘Bog Cantata’, both the text by Marina Carr and David Fennessy’s music are steeped in uaigneas, in the setting of the scene, the ancient woe of the recently exhumed and their reproach at having their slumber disturbed.  Fleeting references to the old melody, ‘The Lark in the Clear Air’ and the eerie twanging of the jaw’s harp intensified this unsettling haunted mood.  But there were also moments of beauty and even humour.  All four soloists and the 8 vocalists as a chorus were used, while the same period instruments lent an air of antiquity.  I found the piece immensely enjoyable and was delighted that the composer was present to thank and congratulate the performers and acknowledge the fulsome applause.  A great way to spend a Friday night.