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Quarterdeck Ballroom, Royal Roads University
December 4, 2016
Before the installation, in the late 1960s, of the acoustic "mushrooms" or "flying saucers", the Royal Albert Hall in London had a notorious echo, making it, as Sir Thomas Beecham once remarked, the only venue where a composer could hear his new work premiered twice.
Which is as far a cry as one could imagine from the gap between the first two performances of Bach's Christmas Oratorio; first given in Leipzig in 1734, the music had to wait 123 years for its second outing, in Berlin in 1857.
Which, had the music actually been second-rate, would perhaps have been unsurprising; but, as has been pointed out on at least one occasion, Bach, perhaps alone among the great composers, never composed any bad music. And the Christmas Oratorio is not even second-rate Bach.
Although, for some inexplicable reason, Handel's Messiah is far more regularly performed at this time of the year (I think it is simply that everybody loves the Hallelujah Chorus), for me the Christmas Oratorio is the seasonal music par excellence.
The major part of Sunday's concert was devoted to parts one and two of the oratorio — few have the stamina either to perform or, indeed, listen to the work in its three-hour entirety and, in any case, the six individual parts were intended to be performed on six separate days, beginning on Christmas Day and ending on January 6th, the Feast of the Epiphany.
Nicholas Fairbank directed a spirited and lively performance, whose virtues more than overcame any shortcomings.
The opening bars might, at first hearing, be thought to be very slightly subdued, yet I have become convinced that Bach intended the music to portray a gradual, rather than sudden, realisation of the significance of the Nativity. The music inexorably swells and the eventual unleashing of the chorus leaves no doubt that the overwhelming sentiment of the music is joyful.
The playing and singing of the Sooke Philharmonic Orchestra and Chorus left the audience in no doubt either. The glorious trumpets and uplifting chorus were enough to lighten anyone's mood.
We do not necessarily think of Bach as one of history's great orchestrators, yet the accompaniment, in choruses, arias and, perhaps most importantly, in recitatives, is constantly fresh and interesting. The orchestra made the most of their many opportunities to shine.
While the chorus, as is common throughout the world, could have used rather more men, parts were on the whole well balanced, intonation was very good and the singing in general very expressive.
The four soloists were also very fine; as the Evangelist, tenor Adam Dyjach had the lion's share of the recitatives and conveyed their sense nicely, as well as shining in his arias, as indeed did Margaret Lingas, Tasha Farivar and Nathan McDonald. I especially enjoyed the remarkable seventh movement of part one, a combined chorale and recitative, with the chorus providing the former and the soprano and bass jointly the latter. This was most effectively done, particularly the gentle close.
Part two opened with the delectably-played and lilting sinfonia, rather like the pastoral symphony ("pifa") in Messiah, which also serves to introduce the shepherds tending their flocks. In connexion which I must observe, if parenthetically, the unusual translation of the text at one point; if one is used to the text of Messiah or the "King James" version of the bible from which it is derived (and Tyndale's bible before that) then it is somewhat jarring to encounter not "peace on earth, goodwill toward men" but "peace on earth, and a sign of favour to humanity". Leaving aside the vexed question of the Oxford comma, I was left wondering whether this was a direct translation of the Lutheran text or simply a more modern English rendering.
Having got which off my chest, this, like part one only without trumpets, was most enjoyably performed; highlights included the excellent flute and cello obbligatos in the tenor aria "Frohe Hirten, eilt, ach eilet" (presumably Patricia Hollister and Trevor MacHattie — whatever its other merits, the Quarterdeck Ballroom offers little in the way of sightlines other than the back of the head of the person sitting in front) and Farivar's charmingly consolatory "Schlafe, mein Liebster", even if her lower register struggled a little to be heard.
Part two closes with a gentle chorale, presented here with delicious strings and winds accompanying. Inauthentic it may have been, but I am certain that nobody present objected to ending with the opening chorus of part three, which once again featured those spectacular piccolo trumpets (Alastair Chaplin, Merrie Klazek and Andrew McNamara, it was impossible to say who was playing which part — see my remark about sightlines above) and sent the audience home with "a joyful noise" ringing in their ears.
The concert opened with Bach's Magnificat, whose virtues were largely those of the Christmas Oratorio; I must just remark on the potency of McDonald's "Quia fecit" and the delightful tenth movement, "Suscepit Israel" in which soprano Jessica Graham stepped forward from the chorus to complete the delectable trio of voices with Lingas and Farivar.
A thoroughly rewarding afternoon.
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