Opera East Lothian: The Magnificent Mr Handel
The Abbey Church, North Berwick - 14/05/22
Opera East Lothian, community-based singers centred around North Berwick, give concert performances of classical music under the coaching and leadership of international tenor John Marshall. They have consistently played to full and joyful houses since their inception in 2004 and Saturday evening’s compilation The Magnificent Mr Handel, their second post-Covid programme, was no exception; the Abbey Church had only a pew or two vacant up in the Gods. The Platinum Jubilee of QE2 furnished a handy hook on which to hang some of the programme, featuring as it did two of Handel’s four Coronation Anthems.
Chorus members number less than thirty for now post-pandemic, harbouring but three valiant tenors. Singers are largely local, orchestra less so, and for more extended or challenging vocal solos, John often decides to hire in professionals from among his own contacts. That was the case in tonight’s second half, where Ode for St Cecilia’s Day features extensive tenor and soprano arias. Listening closely to the chorus singing in the first half, I did think I could make out at least one soprano among them who could have made a very fine fist of it. However, listening later to Magdalena Durant’s sometimes stratospherically high soaring notes in Cecilia, that notion may have been naïve. Also hired in for the evening were a set of magnificent timpani and timpanist, David Kerr.
The first half of the concert was described by the ever self-deprecating Mr Marshall as a “cobble-together” of “Handel’s greatest hits” and was none the worse for that. The compact, fourteen-strong orchestra overtured with an impressive Occasional Oratorio. They then moved on to the introduction to the first big choral number, and as the opening words: “Zadok the Priest and Nathan the prophet…” burst from the modest choir I was blown away. The Abbey Church has a reputation for poor acoustics, exacerbated by the kindly comfort the church provide for their flock, with nice squishy seat cushions and such. So the fullness and sheer volume of the sound rushing suddenly to the roof was wonderful, surely thanks in large part to precision timing and trust between choir and conductor. The ensuing performance by both singers and orchestra was exhilarating.
Handel’s Zadok has been sung at every British coronation since George II, for whom in 1727 Handel composed it and its companion anthems. With the honours tonight being performed for Elizabeth Regina, I was bemused to attend to the words for the first time and register “God save the King” rather than “Queen”. It transpires that Handel chose to set his music to an English translation of the biblical text, rather than the Latin version Unxerunt Salomonem, which had been used – spoken not sung – since the crowning of Edgar way back in 973. The Priest Zadok of Handel’s title is reported to have endorsed and anointed Solomon as King, and with the anthem’s text being from 1 Kings. 1.39 of the Good Book, i.e. sacred, it may be translated but not feminised or otherwise transformed. Other Kings and Queens may reference it, but the song remains Solomon’s.
In delicate contrast to Zadok there followed the brief, tender paean to the shade of a plane tree, Ombra mai fu. In this case the castrato’s role was filled by a haunting flute solo from Michelle McCabe which brought tears to my eyes and challenged my own established favourite out of these pieces, which was coming immediately after: the Sarabande in D minor. Particularly lovely here was the ebb and flow of volume that John coaxed from the performers, smooth and cohesive, subtle and woozy. It has quite spoilt me for any other performance.
The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba reinforced the Jubilee theme, then among excerpts from the opera ‘Rinaldo’ the orchestra interpreted the serenely sad Lascia ch’io pianga (Let me weep). I did not know the text or context of this languid aria and merely followed the fancies of my mind’s eye as they played. On Googling it the next day, I found that without benefit of speech Opera East’s orchestra had conjured, at least for me, an image which proved almost “word for word” the scenario.
Finally, before the interval, the second of the evening’s Coronation Anthems: My heart is inditing. Listeners to this anthem may have wondered at the frequently repeated statement: “My heart is inditing”, which sounds decidedly odd. I think it helps to be clear about its meaning as it relates to the performance. By “inditing”, the psalm is not concerned with pressing (misspelt!) criminal charges at the High Court. A more familiar translation of the original lyrical source– Psalm 45.1– would be “My heart overfloweth”; specifically it is gushing, bubbling, boiling over, heated by divine inspiration into extolling original truths. This immediately makes dramatic sense of the repetitions, turnIng them from merely insistent to ecstatic.
In light of the anthem’s being an expression of divine joy, I feel it is especially appropriate to avoid the more solemn and self-regarding approach of some choirs. Opera East set it to a reasonably brisk tempo, not hurried but not hanging about either. One or two of the little solo moments did wobble, but the ensemble never faltered and joy, appropriately, was unbound all round.
After the interval I found the Ode for St Cecilia more difficult to engage with. This was not to do with the performance, but I think the stance of the whole composition: it is a little more self-conscious, cerebral, didactic. I don’t mean that cerebral is always a bad thing; simply that it is less easy or even appropriate to get drawn in to, especially for a duende-junkie like me. Handel famously scored it in nine days to open his concert at the Theatre Royal on November 22nd. That is the Feast of Cecilia, patron saint of music, a date routinely observed by entertainers of the time. A potential text for Handel to use already existed in the shape of A Song for Saint Cecilia’s Day, a posturing and confused ode by first-ever English Poet Laureate John Dryden fifty years earlier. Dryden depicts Saint Cecilia as a personification of Music, calling to order the scattered atoms of Chaos by sounding her divine harmonies, to set in motion Earth, mankind and all Creation. The ode goes on to characterise in turn trumpet, flute, violin, organ and voice. Unphased that it seems to have been written for pagans, then hastily made over to appease the Christian market, Handel spotted its tailor-made framework for showcasing a range of musical instruments. He seized the opportunity and the resulting cantata was a triumph.
Despite misgivings about the messaging behind St Cecilia’s lyrics, I did appreciate the Abbey Church performance, with conductor, musicians and choir paying intent and respectful attention to each other; in (divine) harmony now I come to think of it. Then there was the privilege of hearing our two guest soloists: Polish-born soprano Magdalena Durant and Scottish tenor Christopher Schneeberger, taking turns to ascend the Holy Mountain.
By this I refer to the interior of the church. It is very simple but at the gable or business end the essentials for worship are integrated into a handsome and symmetrical backdrop. Beneath a big round window a broad display of organ pipes dominates the wall. Close up in front of that, the lectern or pulpit is set unusually high at the apex of a mini-mountain shape created by flights of steps up either side. Thence the preachers of the past could rain down hell-fire over their huddled sheep. Today’s empathic minister thus tends to avoid it, but it was perfect for Magdalena and Christian to take turns in mounting, each by their allotted stair, to give free vent to their arias and to summon each instrument as it featured in the text.
This configuration avoids the common scenario of a chorus standing disregarded behind the back of a soloist who may well be addressing them besides the audience. At the Abbey it was the chorus (and orchestra) in front, at the soloists’ feet, ready to receive. It lent a fresh and pleasing dynamic.
Magdalena and Christopher fit well into the occasion. Both of them beautiful and top-class singers, with many awards, they are also likeable: an important quality for an audience which is predominantly almost ‘family’ (such is the community’s fondness for John Marshal’s charges and their work). Christopher looks as fresh-faced as a choir-boy so when we first heard his rich adult tenor it was extra impressive. He sang with solemnity and gusto. Magdalena looked (though never sounded) at times more unsure. She needn’t have, although at first, I thought she might have been miscast, as her gorgeous voice seemed at times a little too operatic, too womanly for a work written for castrati males, and presumably meant to be angelically sexless. But she is a versatile singer and also accessed her more spiritual timbres, which are quite something. Check out her enchanting Handel Salve on her website.
All this talent, professional and non-professional, and hours of slog, practice, rehearsal and sometime stress for a single sizzling performance is surely a clear demonstration of how much pleasure, fun and satisfaction in life we derive from the journey as well as from its end.