© OMH — Helen Wright
The Sixteen, under the baton of Harry Christophers, are renowned for their exquisite sound, bringing a quality to choral recordings that's hard to beat. Following their success in the Classical Brit Awards in 2005 with Renaissance - Music For Inner Peace, Ikon takes a trip East to capture some of the deeply spiritual music from Russia and Estonia.
The Sixteen is now somewhat of a misnomer, as the credited voices now number 29, and there are also English composers represented in this album - Holst, Tavener and James MacMillan - so Ikon must be taken to represent the spirit rather than the letter of the content.
And there's certainly some gorgeous content here, together with what we have come to expect from this group: just-about-perfect singing, balance and empathy with the music.
The selections of Arvo Pärt's cannon are always going to be a highlight for me, his deceptive simplicity producing, as always, profoundly moving works. De Profundis, a setting of Psalm 130 ("Out of the depths I have cried to Thee, O Lord"), based on Pärt's concept of 'tintinnabulation' (little bells) sets a portentous vocal line against a backdrop of gentle percussion to hair-raising effect. The wonderfully-named The Woman With The Alabaster Box, setting words from St Matthew's Gospel, is equally atmospheric.
Tavener is represented by the serene Exhortation and Kohima, elegies to the fallen of the first and second world wars respectively, and by the haunting Hymn To Athene, brought to the British consciousness so memorably during the funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales.
There are two settings of the Nunc Dimittis (Lord, now lettest Thy servant depart in peace): one by the Russian composer Kalinnikov (1870-1927) sung in Russian - brief but exquisite - and an equally beautiful version by Gustav Holst. This was first performed in 1915 in Westminster Cathedral and then unaccountably lost, until a revised version provided by the composer's daughter Imogen was performed in 1974.
Another virtually unknown Russian composer, Pavel Chesnokov (1877-1944), provides two tracks: Bless The Lord, O My Soul and We Hymn Thee. Both are meditative pieces (the former is the introductory Psalm of Vespers, the latter one of the most solemn moments of the Orthodox Divine Liturgy). Chesnokov was one of the leading choral conductors in Russia and wrote more than 500 works - these make one want to investigate further.
Perhaps the most surprising pieces here are those by the Russian composers we all know and love, but don't often hear in the context of church music - Stravinsky and Rachmaninov. Ave Maria, the simplest possible setting of the familiar, is just about as far from the drama of so many of Stravinsky's works that I would challenge any listener to guess the composer. His Pater Noster retains the simplicity but injects some drama into the Lord's Prayer.
Rachmaninov's sublime but detached Rejoice, O Virgin - the opening track - is also not perhaps what one would expect from this romantic composer, though it doesn't resist the urge to gather pace and volume. The Cherubic Hymn from Rachmaninov's Liturgy of St John Crysostom, Op. 31 (as is his version of We Hymn Thee) is, likewise, stirring but surprisingly cool, showing us another side of the composer.
I have left the best 'til last - the real glory on this album, for me at least, are the pieces by James MacMillan: they make me want to hear much, much more by this contemporary composer. A Child's Prayer, composed in response to the tragic killing of children in Dunblane in 1996, is extraordinarily moving. The two soprano voices soar above the deeper choral line with the simple refrain - "Welcome Jesu / Deep in my soul forever stay" and it's music that eats into your soul, helped by some gorgeous discords.
And even better is A New Song, which sets verses of Psalm 96 - "O sing unto the Lord a new song". It starts like the simplest of folk-based tunes, and gradually develops into a piece of mystery and overwhelming beauty, with Huw Williams on the organ providing the most delicate of touches. The organ, while always remaining subtly in the background, sounds like rippling water, delicately tinkling bells, wind... occasionally, when finally allowed to take over from the purity of the voices... even an organ. Sublime, and worth the price of the whole album, even if the remainder wasn't so searingly lovely.
Another stupendous recording from The Sixteen - and another Brit Award? I wouldn't be at all surprised.
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