Here’s an absolute gem I would have missed, had it not been
for the diplo-mate and European Commission/EUNIC support for a fabulous
cause. Organist William Whitehead is masterminding a project to ‘complete’ the
Orgelbüchlein, Bach’s miniature collection of chorale preludes for organ. The exquisite
little book has titles of 164 chorales, but Bach only completed 46 of them.
Whitehead had the brilliant idea of commissioning composers to fill in the gaps, providing as he puts it ‘a “Gesamtorgelbüchlein”, a complete hymnal...a sort of 21st century
tribute to Bach posing the question “what would Bach have done if he’d been
alive today?" '.
Looking forward to getting inside my beloved Tower of London and sitting in the airy Chapel
Royal of St Peter ad Vincula, I nevertheless approached what I imagined would be an all-organ programme with some trepidation. I
only partly josh that too much organ music makes me sick, simply because during
one Aldeburgh Festival when I was on duty as a Hesse Student, I had to leave Gillian Weir’s recital in Norwich
Cathedral to throw up just outside the porch. In truth, it was probably
something I’d eaten, though Liszt’s Prelude and Fugue on BACH is chromatic
enough in itself to turn the stomach.
As it turned out, Whitehead had devised a sequence of
dazzling intricacy and variety. The real depths were plunged in the wonderful
Catherine Martin’s exploration of three Biber ‘Rosary’ Sonatas, accompanied by
Whitehead: I’ve heard Andrew Manze’s performances on CD, but I was hardly aware of
all the musical symbology, such as the sign of the cross, in these searing
representations of the Annunciation, the Agony in the Garden and the
Crucifixion. And only rarely have I taken on board how vibrato-free playing as
expressive as this can pierce the soul. It was helpful to have an introduction
from Catherine explaining the use of scordatura; each of the sonatas requires
retuning of the strings to create its special quality. I came across the scheme while I was seeking further web enlightenment:
Two of the Biber sonatas were placed strategically as part
of the Orgelbüchlein sandwich, respectively prefaced and concluded by two of
Bach’s big Preludes and Fugues as played with magnificent control and the
occasional freedom by Colm Carey; the one in G major (BWV 541) sent us out
treading air. Carey also played the Bach originals and the new works in the
Orgelbüchlein’s sequence, broken only by the central Biber meditation on Gethsemane. In another inspired touch, Susan Gilmour
Bailey gave expressive rein to the original chorale melodies, so we could hear
what the six new composers as well as Bach had done with them.
Or not. In two cases, undoubtedly the most original, Spanish
composer Benet Casablancas and Lithuanian Justé Janulyté had sent the melodies
underground, Casablancas’s wild fantasia – much the longest at just under the
commission limit of five minutes – asking the organist to pull out a multitude
of stops. Most interesting, perhaps, was the range of approaches: in addition
to these mysteries and complexities, Thomas Daniel Schlee gave us a 21st century version of Bachian polyphony, Ēriks Ešenvalds contented himself with
chaste homage to Bach and Jonas Jurkūnas’s reflection on the surprisingly
cheerful Am Wasserflüssen Babylon burbled along cheerfully, if a little
aimlessly, in minimalist style.
I was delighted to see Benet there (pictured above right with
Whitehead), since we’d enjoyed a lively correspondence following our
pre-performance conversation when the BBC Symphony Orchestra under the
brilliant Josep Pons played his Seven Scenes from Hamlet. And I hadn’t realized
that my connecting Jurowski with Casablancas, as a composer in whose music he
might take no small interest, resulted in a performance of the composer’s
Darkness Visible when the LPO and their principal conductor visited Barcelona this February.
I’ve said little of the circumstances surrounding this Spitalfields Winter Festival event. It began unpromisingly with our queueing at the Tower
entrance in the freezing cold, being roughly herded by an uncharming Beefeater
while penguin-suited Esso employees swanned past us to their reception. But it’s
always wonderful to enter the inner sanctuary at night, the White Tower
looking more imposing than ever
As you can see from the top photo, the lights of St Peter ad
Vincula glowed invitingly. Inside it was warm and bright. We admired the
monuments, and the sanctuary inscriptions to the three ladies who lost their
heads on Tower Green and were buried here – Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard and
Lady Jane Grey – alongside sanctified Thomas More and Bishop John Fisher. The organ case sat in the
Banqueting House Whitehall from its construction by Bernhard Schmidt in 1699 to
its removal to this royal chapel in 1899, by which time additions had made it
three times larger; more recently it has been restored to its original
dimensions. The pipework is recent and the instrument sounds in good health,
for all I can tell. One thing’s for sure: sitting in the first row of the left
aisle and watching foot and fingerwork, as well as having superlative Martin
playing right in front of us only added to the pleasure of an unforgettable
evening.
One footnote while we’re in chapel: should I have been
surprised when the government’s Maria Miller announced that the Church of
England would be legally exempt from the current move to allow gay marriages in
church* (ie limiting such marriages to a very restricted number of venues)? After
all, isn’t the CofE the Tory party at prayer? For myself, I don’t care: civil
partnership is good enough for me, and I was reminded that in early January we celebrate seven
years of our ritual and the ‘Just Not Married’ party which followed, jumping in as we did to tie the registry
office knot three weeks after it all became legal in the UK. But why should those who do
want a church event be treated like second-class citizens? Erstwhile blogger
pal Jon Dryden Taylor, who doesn’t post enough these days, gives a brilliant
exposition of why our rights should be extended here.
*It now turns out this was done 'on the hoof', without consulting the CofE
*It now turns out this was done 'on the hoof', without consulting the CofE