‘Accessibility’ is
a label that can so easily be misconstrued, especially
in the world of contemporary classical music, yet there’s
no other way to describe this
a cappella collection
from Ondine. And it’s as up-to-date as it gets, for although
Rautavaara came to prominence as long ago as 1954 some
of these settings were written as recently as 2006. Rautavaara
has also been a mentor to other Finnish composers, Kalevi
Aho among them, and must surely be one of Finland’s best-known
composers since Sibelius.
Listening
to these discs I was instantly struck by the distinctive
Nordic singing style, so well illustrated by the Norwegian
ensembles in
Immortal Nystedt – see
review – which
made my list of picks for 2007. There is an appealing earthiness
and warmth to the Finnish choirs, so it’s very easy to
manage both discs in one sitting. Whether one will feel
entirely fulfilled afterwards is less certain.
Apart
from the undoubted talents of these two choirs – the YL
group, founded in 1863, is the oldest such choir in Finland – the
Ondine engineers deserve praise for this refulgent recording.
Not only that, the stereo spread is very believable, with
plenty of depth as well, which is ideal for this kind of
repertoire. The Talla ensemble may be relative newcomers – they
were formed in 1991 – but they bring an equally distinctive
flavour to the choral mix, especially in the settings that
call for higher voices.
Rautavaara
is eclectic in his choice of texts – translations of which
are supplied in the substantial booklet – including two
Preludes by
T. S. Eliot. The latter are sung most beautifully by the
Talla choir, the higher voices bringing a touch of frost
the warming cadences of
Winter Evening (tr.3),
while
in the all-too-brief setting of
The Morning Comes (tr.
4) they manage to combine restraint with a real sense of
anticipation. Their rendition of
Ave Maria (tr.
7) has the same gentle qualities; indeed, this setting,
more than any other, reminded me of Nystedt’s
Salve
Regina, especially as it also retains its devotional
character without ever sounding over-reverential.
For
the most part the older, more experienced YL choir sound
rich and velvety, with a dark, Slavonic bass line – just
sample their
Christmas Hymn (tr.8) – that is most
appealing Anyone who has heard the Phoenix and Kansas choirs
in Grechaninov’s
Passion Week – see
review – will
recognise this profoundly beautiful sound, one that resonates
in the ear and the mind long after it has passed. But as
committed and heartfelt as the YL group undoubtedly are,
there were times when I longed for a little more unanimity
and focus from these singers.
The
first three songs of
A Book of Life (1972) feature
the lighter and more agile Talla choir, who sing with character
throughout. Meanwhile the YL singers bring real gravitas
to Emily Dickinson’s
Hope is the Thing With Feathers (tr.
13) and infectious high spirits to
Swimming (tr.
16). Disc 1 is rounded off by a sombre
So it was from
the YL choir (tr. 18) and a show-stealing
Song of Myself from
the Talla ensemble (tr. 19). This life-affirming, all-embracing
Walt Whitman setting is the most memorable item on this
disc, whether it be the impassioned unison/divided singing
or the lovely high tenor of soloist Tuomas Katajala. The
choir’s English is accented but not distractingly so, and
they’re always easily understood.
Disc
2 begins with
Melancholy, the first of four poems
by the Finnish author Aleksis Kivi, an atmospheric piece
spoilt by a somewhat woolly start and less than perfectly
blended singing from the YL choir. Thankfully it’s a temporary
lapse and they make amends with some full-blooded – and
deep-chested – singing as the cycle progresses. In
The
Glory of Beer (tr. 2) they are suitably folksy and
good natured, modulating to something altogether more tender
in
The Squirrel (tr. 3). Again, they are less than
unanimous at the outset but it seems churlish to complain
when they sing with such obvious enthusiasm.
Curiously
rhe next quartet on this disc –
Four Serenades – is
split between the two ensembles, the Talla choir starting
with the rather colourless
Serenade to My Wife (tr.
7). In fact this foursome is rather less vital and varied
than we’ve come to expect from Rautavaara. Even Baudelaire’s
Serenade
to Death (tr. 8) seems a tad lugubrious at times, but
at least the counter-tenor Pasi Hyökki – also the Talla’s
conductor – and the bass Tuukka Haapaniemi bring some folk-like
authenticity to
Serenade of Serenades (tr. 9). My
misgivings about this quartet are confirmed by the rather
heavy handed humour of
Serenade to Beer (tr. 10)
with its clap-along accompaniment.
Thankfully
matters improve somewhat in the Talla group’s nimble contribution
to the first of two Finnish folk songs. The ringing tones
of Tuomas Katajala are particularly apt here, the song
building to a lovely sustained climax. The Talla ensemble
also bring a welcome lightness to
The Fox and the Sick
Cockerel (tr. 14), which is just as well since the
four romances from Rautavaara’s opera
Rasputin are
cast in a more serious, Russianate style entirely in keeping
with its subject matter. Here at least the rich bass line
is exploited to the full, with just the right hint of wistfulness
in
Far Away Lies My Homeland (tr. 16). This
Troika
Speeds (tr. 17) is rather more sedentary than, say,
Lieutenant Kijé’s, but then the composer’s curiously reticent,
slightly ‘grey’, choral writing may have something to do
with that.
Rautavaara
enthusiasts will want this collection as not only is it
complete it’s also the only recording of these works in
the catalogue. Ondine have done a fine job with this sound,
which is never less than full and warm, but it seems to
me that the flame of inspiration burns a little low at
times. Even the best ensembles can’t disguise the weaker
settings and, in any case, both the Talla and YL choirs
aren’t in top form throughout.
A
pleasant hour-and-a-half of music, but as unaccompanied
singing goes this is a worthy collection rather than an
outstanding one.
Dan
Morgan
YL Male
Voice Choir/Matti Hyökki 
