Renaissance Madrigals in a high school auditorium?: a concert review
Hilliard Ensemble
Washington Irving High School
New York, NY
April 24,2004

by Dr. Christian Carey

Their concert on Saturday, April 24th was titled "Fortuna Desperata: English and Italian songs and madrigals"; it focused on secular love songs by a number of composers from the Sixteenth century. Washington Irving High School might seem like a strange venue for such a concert, but the school apparently has quite a substantial (and well-subscribed) classical concert series. No doubt the modest price of tickets encouraged many to attend who might otherwise not consider a concert of madrigals as an ideal evening of entertainment. Still, it was rather impressive to see 1200 audience members in a packed hall, eager to hear an a cappella vocal group sing a program of music that was nearly five hundred years old.

Unfortunately this boisterous assembly took a bit of time to settle down and listen to the music. In addition to the usual irksome audience noises (coughing, cell phones, the unwrapping of sucking candies, talking), there were a few ones tried on by the crowd that were new to me -- vigorous nail-filing and cacophonous snoring were audible in my aisle during the very first piece. Apparently, I was not the only one unnerved, as the Hilliard members seemed a bit, just a bit mind you, off their game during the first piece, an anonymous composition from Henry VIII's Songbook. However, the quartet kept their composure and continued to sing with poise, beauty and consummate musicianship. Gradually, like the fabled soothing of savage beasts, the audience was won over and settled in to listen. One nice aspect of the audience was their warm enthusiasm for the ensemble, made plain in their heartfelt and generous applause at the conclusion of each composition.

Many of the composers featured on the program are not just known for madrigals, but are famous for sacred music as well. It sometimes seems curious that composers of motets and masses, such as William Cornysh and Cipriano de Rore, could also write such passionate love songs, setting poetry that would certainly make the officials at High Mass blush. Yet de Rore's "Anchor che col partire" is as plaintive an ode to longing as can be imagined (Although in parting I feel I am dying, I would part every hour, every moment, So great is the pleasure that I feel In the life I gain on my return; And so thousands and thousands of times a day, I would part from you, So sweet are my returns).

Indeed, the Hilliards were to return to the world of sacred music the very next evening, singing an all-Machaut program at the Cloisters (a concert I regrettably had to miss). Their latest CD on ECM records is a recording of these works, motets by Fourteenth Century composer Guillame de Machaut. While their recent recording project may be sacred in content, the Hilliard Ensemble seemed very comfortable spending an evening in the secular world of love songs. Their delivery balanced the cool grace for which their performances have become known with expressive delivery of the ardent texts. Rather than being demonstrative, the quartet preferred to let their singing itself present the emotional content of the songs.

This expressivity often manifested itself in details of diction -- the enunciation of the text. Songs like Pierre de Villiers' "Le dueil issu" were delivered with clarity of consonants and warm vowels; moments where the entire group all sang a crisp consonant at the exact same moment were thrilling demonstrations of ensemble coordination.

Many of the pieces on the recital program were by anonymous composers. It is hard to imagine that authorship was once so devalued, particularly from the peculiar vantage point of our ego-driven culture. Still, even if the names of their respective creators are unknown to us, the sentiments expressed in these pieces are archetypal ones with which even a contemporary can readily identify: blissful passion, unrequited love, the pangs of loneliness, the grief of lost love. Some standouts among the anonymous pieces were "My love she mourneth", "Fortuna Desperata" and the Scottish song "In a garden so green".

Some of the usual Sixteenth century suspects were present as well. An sizable group of pieces by Philippe Verdelot and another by Jacques Arcadelt were solid representatives of the madrigal repertory. The former's "Divini Occhi" and "Fuggi fuggi cor mio" were most superlatively sung by the Hilliards; the latter's "Ahime dov'e'l bel viso" was also quite lovely.

My favorite group on the concert, however, was a trio of pieces by English composers that was placed on the second half of the program: John Bennett's "Weep, O mine eyes", Thomas Weelkes' "Cease sorrows now" and Giles Farnaby's "Consture my meaning". The last two were dazzling in their chromaticism, creating sonorities that stretched the boundaries of Sixteenth (and, indeed, Seventeenth, Eighteenth and even Nineteenth) century conceptions of tonality. These chromatic passages were no mere musical whim, but were used by the composers to convey the sense of grief present in the works' texts. In this fashion, they resembled the famously far-out works of their relative contemporary Carlo Gesualdo, whose music was (unfortunately) not represented on the program.

After the concert proper was concluded, the Hilliard Ensemble offered an encore that was something quite different altogether: "Sapphire", a contemporary piece by Irish composer Piers Hellawell. The work's harmony was most attractive, frequently quartal and peppered with jazz inflections. Its text was taken from writings by the ensemble's namesake, British painter Nicholas Hilliard. As such, "Sapphire" proved to be both a beguiling and fitting end to a most enjoyable concert.

-October 05, 2004