Renaissance and Romantic

LAST FRIDAY NIGHT'S choral concert in Sanders drew a sizeable and appreciative audience. It was, all told, a pleasant evening.

At first glance, the program seemed interesting, contrasting English Renaissance music in the first half with motets by Bruckner and Brahms in the second. By the end of the concert, however, the contrast seemed to have little point. The six florid Elizabethan motets from "The Triumphs of Oriana" were all similar and Brahms and Bruckner, at least as interpreted here, seemed uniformly dreary.

The first half of the program was the better performed. The Collegium Musicum began with motets by Morley and Weelkes, two luminaries of the Golden Age of English music. The Collegium sang very well under the direction of F. John Adams. The group has a thin but clean, fresh sound which slightly resembles the sound of a good boy choir. Attacks were crisp and the contrapuntal textures--never too complex in this kind of music--were very clear. Parts were well balanced and the pacing energetic.

The Weelkes was followed by a series of four pieces by John Dowland (1563-1626), performed by the Greenwood Consort. The four instrumentalists in this excellent group play a variety of authentic Renaissance instruments. I enjoy the lovely blend of sound possible with old instruments when well-played, and the Greenwood Consort plays them very well indeed.

Nancy Wilson, soprano, was in wonderful voice Friday as she sang two of Dowland's most famous ayres, "Say Love," and "Fine Knacks for Ladies." I wish she had sung some other Dowland songs, however. These two songs were delightful trifles, but at his best Dowland was capable of writing expressive, subtle, and profound laments that are among the glories of English music. Wilson's voice, pure and vibratoless, is ideal for Renaissance music. I was amazed at how well she projected the words in the vast cavern that is Sanders Theater.

The Collegium sang two more motets from "Oriana," including one by Thomas Thomkins, another genius of the period. "The Fauns and Satyrs are Tripping" is not, however, one of his more profound works.

The second Greenwood series featured a piece by Henry VIII, which demonstrated why this famous gentleman is not as famous a composer as king. But the Consort's enthusiasm is infectious and it drew the biggest applause of the evening. Two more motets concluded the first half.

In the Romantic music of the second half, the Collegium was supplemented by the huge Harvard-Radcliffe Chorus, adding requisite volume. Though the enunciation of the English texts in the Renaissance works had been mediocre, the German and Latin of the Brahms and Bruckner was unintelligible.

IT IS INTERESTING that the two greatest symphonists of the latter 19th century were also the finest composers of choral music. A comparison of their choral writing is fascinating for the light it sheds on two very different aesthetic concepts. The essential traits so dramatically obvious in the symphonies are also discernable in the choral works.

The music of each man reflects his religious background. Anton Bruckner (1824-1896) was a Catholic composer; Brahms (1833-1897) was essentially Protestant. In his choral music, Bruckner attempts to suggest the most sacred mysteries of the Catholic faith by manipulating chromatic harmonies which build towards thrilling climaxes. He is grandiose and monumental, as the great baroque churches of Bavaria and Austria are grandiose and monumental. He seeks the feverish ecstasy of the visionary. Brahms, on the other hand, is a more sober, conservative writer, working from a close, personal religion, and with a style virtually baptized in a Protestant ethic of thorough, conscientious hard work. He is warm but never extravagant.

This simple theory applies equally to the sprawly vastness of a Bruckner symphony and to the compact contrapuntal workmanship of one by Brahms. The two giants are radically different in their approach to composition and in their goals. But this point seems to have escaped the performers Friday. They sang through motets by both composers with stodgy phrasing, a limited dynamic range, and a sort of funereal literalness which reduced the genius of both men to a common level of gloom.

Even in these works the singing was clean and in tune. But the sustained "nnnn" at the end of each Amen was objectionable.

This second half disappointment notwithstanding, the concert was enjoyable, and demonstrated a considerable level of competance in the performance of Renaissance music.