The Gesualdo Six -Lux Aeterna
Our Lady of Loretto, Musselburgh, 14/9/24
The Gesualdo Six
In my career as a singer, and in my writings for the Edinburgh Music Review, I have always striven for perfection, and have forever sought it in others. I thought it was a forlorn hope, and that, however good my performance and that of others, it was an unreachable goal.
However, after this concert in Our Lady of Loretto Church, Musselburgh, given by the vocal ensemble, The Gesualdo Six, I think I may have glimpsed it!
I have greatly enjoyed previous visits by this group, notably last year’s fabulous ‘Secret Byrd’, and have waxed lyrical on these pages about their magnificence. This year, they have eclipsed even that memory with a programme of music, old and new, about death and our response to it. If that sounds gloomy and depressing, it was the opposite, for through great music and consoling words can comfort and renewal appear. The perfection was in the performance, but the concept was also heart-warming.
As their director and bass voice, Owain Park, writes in his programme notes, all of us have to deal with death in our lives, and this concert looked at the three perspectives that are involved in someone’s death – uncertainty, acknowledgement and hope. Uncertainty over the powerlessness of those left behind, acknowledgement in seeking reassurance for those whose lives are at an end, and finally hope for those left behind, allowing us to enjoy life while we have it and reminding us not to let grief overwhelm us. The Gesualdo Six have come up with a programme of music, both from the great polyphonic era of the Renaissance and from composers of the present day, which permitted us to try to fathom some of the mysteries of existence.
After an overwhelming performance of Berlioz’s Requiem by the RSNO at the end of last season, I wrote an article for the EMR about Requiems through the ages, from early Renaissance works by Ockeghem and Victoria to Britten’s War Requiem, looking at how composers have used the funeral service of the Christian Church to reflect man’s reaction to death. It was a fascinating subject, and my research for that article has informed my reflections on tonight’s recital. Although a non-believer myself, I find I can take immense comfort from the creations of those composers who have been moved to write music relating to death and grief, allowing me to try to understand better both their reactions and mine.
The Gesualdo Six was formed in 2014 in Cambridge and has quickly established itself as one of the premier vocal ensembles in the world. I wrote last year about their impeccable sense of pitch and tuning and about the fabulous blend of the six voices of Guy James and Alasdair Austin (countertenor), Joseph Wicks and Josh Cooter (tenor), Michael Craddock (baritone) and Owain Park (bass). That blend is even better now, and we can only marvel at the way the voices match each other both at the loudest moments and the softest. The breathing and phrasing are as one, and the balance is perfect. I wrote about the advantage of a good low bass and a clear falsettist at the top, which allows the inner voices room to breathe, and I’d like to highlight those inner voices today. Alasdair Austin was fairly new to the group last year, and I feel he has really settled into the group, with his individual countertenor a nice contrast to Guy James’s glorious honeyed tones at the top. The two tenors are well-matched, although quite different from each other. It shouldn’t really work, but it does. If that sounds a bit daft, I’m afraid I can’t put my finger on why the blend works. It’s a little like how cabernet sauvignon and merlot blend perfectly to produce a great claret. You’re going to complain that there is some cabernet franc in claret too, but that’s where Michael Craddock’s baritone comes in. He bridges the gap between the two tenors and Owain Park’s bass. I have a tiny niggle that Joseph Wicks moves about a bit too much when he’s singing, which can be distracting, but that can be corrected, and has nothing to do with the sound.
I have written about death, about grief, and about the singers, but what of the performance? First of all, Our Lady of Loretto is absolutely perfect for this music. It’s not a vast space and there are no high vaults for the sound to blossom in, but it offers enough resonance for all the voices to be heard individually and also permits us to hear clearly that wonderful blend of which I spoke.
The ensemble obviously likes to create a certain theatricality in its performances, as we saw last year in ‘Secret Byrd,’ and tonight’s concert started with an incipit by Mr Austin in front of the altar answered by the rest of the group from the west end of the church, as they sang Parce mihi, Domine (Spare me, Lord) by Cristóbal de Morales (c 1500-53). They proceeded to process slowly down the aisle singing John Tavener’ s Funeral Ikons, finishing up all together in front of the altar. Tavener was fascinated by the Orthodox church, and indeed converted in 1977, and much of his music has an Orthodox flavour, both Greek and Russian. I sang bass solo in one of his pieces in St Paul’s Cathedral in London with the composer present, which was a daunting prospect as he had an other-worldly presence about him. His Funeral Ikons are an exploration of the Orthodox service for the burial of priests, and feature two consorts of voices which come and go harmonically in several verses. It was strangely haunting and very beautiful.
Various combinations of the six singers explored works by De Lassus, Tallis and Byrd. I was particularly taken by Tallis’ s ‘In Ieiunio et Fletu’ (in fasting and weeping) in which priests are weeping by the altar, pleading for forgiveness for humanity. Thomas Tallis is my go-to composer for Renaissance perfection and the Gesualdos’ rendition was superb.
Two modern pieces came next, Howard Skelton’s ‘And there was war in heaven’ and Donna McKevitt’s ‘Lumen’ (Nunc Dimittis). Owain Park’s notes gave a detailed account of the structure of the Skelton piece, basically a musical puzzle. I remain puzzled but enjoyed the result! Lumen was a collaboration between the Gesualdo Six and Donna McKevitt in 2020, as part of the ensemble’s mission not only to interpret old music but to create new work. Its haunting quality was marked and atmospheric.
Morales’ Introitus and Lux Aeterna (the concert’s title song, as it were, sung later in the concert), both from his Requiem, formed the centrepiece of the recital, and the Spanish composer’s deeply beautiful polyphony was superbly rendered by the ensemble. Next we heard a motet, Heu me Domine (Alas, Lord), by the Portuguese composer Vincente Lusitano (c 1520 - c 1561), in which the worshipper admits many sins and trusts in God to save him from eternal death on the Judgement Day. Lusitano was a very individual composer, and this motet takes chromaticism to a far place, almost outdoing Carlo Gesualdo in weirdness. It’s very effective weirdness, mind you, with each voice set on a rising scale and repeating the exercise in the second stanza. The Gesualdo Six’s perfect blend of voices allowed us to hear every nuance in the structure of the motet.
A Latin motet by Talis, ‘Absterge Domine delicta mea’ (Wipe away, o Lord, my faults), beautifully sung, and the Lux Aeterna from the Morales Requiem, led on to the final two pieces, a work composed by Joanna Marsh for the ensemble in 2020, ‘I take Thee’ and Richard Rodney Bennett’s ‘A Good Night.’ The Marsh, a setting of a poem by Imtiaz Dharker, is a celebration of significant moments in our lives, focussing on commitment and happiness, while ‘A Good Night’ offers a final secure resting place – Sleep. The lush final chords were brilliantly performed, leaving us rapt in admiration for the perfection of the Gesualdo Six’s performance.
A lovely encore of Rheinberger’s Abendlied, originally written in 1855 at the age of 15, sent us home, stiff in body from the uncomfortable pews of Our Lady of Loretto but warm in spirit after a fabulous concert.
