To St Cecilia, Musiciens du Louvre/Minkowski, Barbican, London

Reviewed by Michael Church

Tuesday 27 January 2009 20:00 EST
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

Not much fun being Saint Cecilia – semi-suffocated, half- decapitated, still singing as she died – but much delight has accompanied her name. A mistranslation of the Latin text led to her being credited with inventing the organ – organi actually referred to musical instruments in general – after which her installation as patron saint of music was the logical step. An academy in Rome was set up in her name in 1594, and word spread to England in time for John Dryden to eulogise her in verse, and for Purcell to get in on the act, composing four Odes in her honour. Handel set Dryden's words to music 40 years later, with Haydn adding a Mass at the end of the century. Since these three composers all have anniversaries this year, it was a neat idea to kick it off – in a compare-and-contrast spirit – with their respective Cecilian tributes.

But the really interesting comparisons turned on voices, because, by using the same soloists for each work, the conductor Mark Minkowski measured them against three different sound-worlds. In Purcell's "Hail! Bright Cecilia", the tenor Richard Croft's bel canto sounded awkward, while Anders J Dahlin's pure, vibrato-free tenor fitted the requirements of the music as though born to it. The soprano Lucy Crowe, whose voice seemed too peachy for Purcell, came gloriously into her own with Handel's Ode for St Cecilia's Day: duetting with a flute, she became a flute, and when she announced the Day of Judgement, she invested her sound with a trumpet-like quality.

Haydn's Missa Cellensis allowed Croft to reveal what a superb artist he is: his delivery of "Et incarnatus est" was beautiful. Nathalie Stutzmann, the contralto of the evening, was only brought on for the Haydn, but her voice, too, was a revelation: no other contralto has her ability to sound intimate and clarion-like at the same time, and the "Crucifixus est" was magical.

Indeed, the whole evening cast a spell, even if neither soloists nor chorus sang Purcell's English text as though they meant and understood it. Each work highlighted different instrumental stars – oboist/recorder players in Purcell, a cellist and a flautist in Handel – while the ensemble as a whole generated a wonderfully warm and vibrant sound. And what a discovery the Haydn was. Why is it so seldom performed?

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in