A Riveting, Revealing, Defamiliarizing Kickoff to One of New York’s Best Choir’s 2016 Season

This October 28 at 7 PM one of the most esteemed choral ensembles in this country, the Choir of St. Ignatius Loyola celebrate their parish’s 150th anniverary with a program of rare works from the Jesuit tradition by 17th century composers Domenico Zipoli and his contemporaries: Jan Josef Ignac Brentner, Bartolomé Massa and Martin Schmid. The roughly fifty-voice group, conducted by the fearlessly ambitious K. Scott Warren, is bolstered by soprano Sarah Griffiths, mezzo-soprano Kristin Gornstein and tenor Douglas Purcell along with a period instrument chamber ensemble. This might be your only opportunity to hear material that’s never before been performed in North America, and if this ensemble doesn’t do it, might never be performed again here.

There was a buzz at the reception after the choir’s first performance of the 2016 season. They’d just stunned a sold-out crowd with an exhaustive, era-spanning and genre-hopping performance that ranged from the pre-baroque to the present day. The theme was the ancient Greek elements: earth, air, fire and water. For the record, there was no Earth, Wind and Fire song on the bill – maybe next time they can transfix the crowd with a fifty-voice take of Boogie Wonderland. The controversy this time out concerned the merits of interspersing the four Vvialdi-inspired movements of Frank Ferko‘s The Seasons – a richly dynamic, rapturously ambitious string quartet with choir – along with selections from Gustav Holst’s Choral Hymns From the Big Veeda suite, amid the other works on the bill, rather than playing each suite all the way through without interruption.

Warren opted for defamiliarizing everyone, making a strikingly seamless shift between the 21st century American avant garde, late Romanticism drawing heavily on Indian influences, rapt minimalism, knotty earlier 20th century works and the occasional friendly, familiar departure into lustrous Renaissance polyphony. The younger contingent in the crowd heartily endorsed Warren’s ambition; an older crowd voiced a mixed response. Whatever your taste, if you think that keeping up was hard on the audience, imagine being among the choir gathered onstage. Singers are routinely expected to deliver material in unfamiliar genres and languages without a hitch, but this was a real workout for everyone concerned.

What concertgoers might forget is that this world-class choir – although frequently augmented with the prowess of internationally known professionals – it remains at its heart a local church ensemble, albeit a magnet for Manhattan’s best voices. If that isn’t testament to the resilence of New York under the luxury condo blitzkrieg, nothing is. They made the shifts between genres look easy. On the minimalist side, two pieces from Julia Adolphe‘s immersively coloristic Sea Drean Elegies were arguably the most rapturous points of the concert. On the other hand, that could easily have been said about the crescendoing eclecticism of Stephen Paulus’ Songs from the Japanese, or the concert’s ambitious concluding number, composer John Kennedy’s Someday. As for the Ferko, arguably the most memorable of all the works on the bill, its bristling, trickily rhythmic second movement almost seemed to make more sense when, amid several detours, its hypnotically swaying Summer gave way to the kind of ambered, prayerful lustre his work is known for, in the final two movements. You can experience the same kind of rapture on the Upper East Side on the 28th.

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Transcending the Gloom Outside of St. Ignatius Loyola

Wednesday night the Choir and Orchestra of St. Ignatius Loyola rescued an otherwise gloomy and dismal evening with warmth and epic grandeur at their sonically superb home base, via an animated performance of Haydn’s Symphony No. 97 and then Mozart’s Mass in C Minor. Music Director K. Scott Warren had a jaunty confidence on the podium, conducting the Haydn through its many dynamic shifts between instrumental voices, with lively, conversational counterpoint. From its precise cantabile opening, to a surprising and welcome gravitas in the second movement, the swaying dance of the third and a long series of clever, practically conspiratorial exchanges as it wound out, Warren and the ensemble spotlighted all the most entertaining moments. It’s not a heavy piece of music –  it made for a well-received contrast with the storm gusting outside.

Like his Requiem, Mozart’s Mass in C Minor is unfinished. It may or may not have been performed in his lifetime. It has far more to do with operatic flair than gothic gravitas: watching the choir pulsing through its waves and cadenzas, it was easy to imagine a group from Mozart’s day reveling in how much fun church had become with this composer writing the score! Was this a vehicle for the talented choirgirl who would become his wife? Quite possibly. And she had to be talented because the lead soprano role is brutally challenging, but Martha Guth embraced the hair-raising demands of its roller-coaster dips and swells and meticulous ornamentation and left the audience stunned.

Soprano Marguerite Krull also brought a sparkling clarity to her parts, often paired off with New York Polyphony‘s Stephen Caldicott Wilson and his far more stern, measured tenor (and impressive low range as well). Wilson’s choirmate Christopher Dylan Herbert was required to do less, but added an extra layer of heft in the final sections. Because Mozart never finished the mass, Warren had to choose from many versions fleshed out by others, over the centuries; settling on a 20th century version by Mozart’s fellow Austrian Helmut Eder was respectful of the original in limiting its scope to the parts of the score finished by the composer himself. Joy, and passion, and lustrous timbres from the top to the bottom of what the human voice is capable of delivering, abounded throughout the group’s dynamic and rousing interpretation. The next concert here is a fascinating program of original arrangements by organist David Enlow on Nov 2 at 3 PM; the Choir and Orchestra return on Nov 30 at 3 with a celebration of Advent.

Tragedy and Transcendence with the Choir and Orchestra of St. Ignatius Loyola

The high point of the Mozart Requiem, as generations of concertgoers and fans of biopics know well, comes midway through the mass where Mozart realizes that he’s going to die. A cynic would say that Mozart, ever the egotist, saved his best for a self-penned obituary, but the music transcends that. It’s horrifying without being macabre, one of the most chilling existential moments in the classical repertoire. Wednesday night, in the wondrous sonics of their Upper East Side home base, the massive Choir and Orchestra of St. Ignatius Loyola left the audience literally gasping when they reached that moment. Getting there was almost as intense and thrilling. Despite the fact that much of the crowd was obviously familiar with the work, people were exchanging stunned glances in amazement at its angst-ridden power and the ensemble’s pinpoint, precise command of it.

Hearing the orchestra and 37-piece choir up close reminded what a hodgepodge it is – and how difficult it is to perform, with all the dynamic shifts, Mozart’s shivery strings and elegant foreboding up against Franz Sussmayr’s pedestrianly pleasant passages added after Mozart’s death to complete the work as a fullscale Catholic mass. But music director K. Scott Warren and his mighty group were up to the challenge, the explosive vocal bursts of the towering Dies Irae passage giving way to the pensively dancing Andante and then the ever-present, achingly imploring Rex Tremendae section on the way up to the central crescendo. The soloists – soprano Tami Petty, mezzo-soprano Sara Murphy, tenor John Tiranno and bass-baritone Kevin Deas all stepped up with power and steely focus when their moments arrived.

Getting to the Mozart was a lot of fun too. The concert opened with baroque composer Heinrich Schutz’ remarkably forward-looking, tersely elegaic Seven Last Words of Jesus Christ, a partita for chamber ensemble and fifteen-voice choir plus soloists. Standouts among the performers included but were not limited to baritone Elliott Carlton Hines, with his gretty, plaintive edge; Elisa Singer, whose soprano delivered spine-tingling range and power; contralto Heather Petrie, who dazzled with her split-second ability to shift between registers; and tenor Steven Caldicott Wilson, who raised the ante with equal parts color and poignancy.

And the fun maxed out with an unrestrained, joyous performance of Bach’s Jesu, Meine Freude, BWV 227. This piece is a little more straightforward than the typical Bach cantata, which allowed for the group to make an unselfconsciously dancing hymn out of it; that might sound like an oxymoron, but in this group’s hands it seemed perfectly natural and impossible to resist, through a stiletto staccato fugue, lilting sways, mellifluous volleys of arpeggios, a bit of a bittersweet nocturne and then its concluding ode to joy. Throughout this piece and the rest of the concert, the sound was seamless yet balanced to a minute degree, keening highs against brooding lows, awash in lustre and rapture, further enhanced by cathedral’s magnificent sonics.