Vespers at Monastery of the Holy Cross

Chorale has been singing at Monastery of the Holy Cross, in Bridgeport, almost since the group was founded.  Father Peter, the Monastery's Prior, spent his undergrad years at the University of Chicago, singing in the choral groups, stage-managing, assistant-conducting--  he even baby-sat my daughter on occasion (she really was a baby back then).  So it was natural to reconnect with him when Chorale was formed and had found its particular repertoire direction-- much of what we sing is appropriate to the Monastery's liturgies, it's acoustical properties, and it's visual ambiance. Most musical performance available for public consumption during the Advent and Christmas season is either light, entertaining, humorous;  or grand, heavily-produced, portentious.  Nothing wrong with either of these directions; I happily prepare and perform in both types of concert.  But many composers, historically, have responded to the season, especially the Advent part of it, with music that is introspective, self-examining, intimate-- music which seems appropriate in a shadowy, quiet, dimly-lit space, away from the crowds, the shopping, the holiday camaraderie; music reflective of the solstice, of the approaching wintery cold, of the darkness and yearning many of us feel within ourselves at this time of year.

The Monastery is ideally suited to this music, this mood.  A subset of Chorale's singers will present several works to enhance the monks' Vespers for the Second Sunday in Advent--  the "Evening Hymn" from Rautavara's Vigilia; "Scapulis Suis" (Under his wings) by Chicago composer Robert Kreuz;  a harmonized Kievan chant, "Behold, the Bridegroom Comes;"  Arvo Pärt's "Magnificat;"  Stravinsky's "Otche Nash (Our Father);  Randall Thompson's "Alleluia" (heard in these circumstances, it seems an entirely different and better piece than the one we all sang to death back in high school);  and Giuseppi Verdi's "Ave Maria," a gorgeous and under-presented setting of this text.  The choir, and the monks themselves, will also chant various psalms in the course of the liturgy.

My personal feeling, each time we sing for a liturgy there--  I feel so fortunate for this island of silence (strange comment from a musician!), this time and space in which my mind can slow down, sort itself out, focus on the season and on the beauty of the music we are presenting.  We are a concert-oriented culture;  but almost none 0f the music we perform was actually intended by its composers to be presented in concert settings.  In singing these Advent Vespers, I feel closer to the music's original intent, and oddly stimulated, reinforced, in my vocation.

Toward our December concerts

Building our a cappella Marian program was perhaps the most difficult repertoire planning I have ever done-- took several weeks last summer, with stacks of music sitting all over my piano and office, borrowed recordings, frequent visits to the Internet, frequent emails (cries for help) to my colleagues.

Planning a concert is rather like planning a major oratorio-- in this case, a major work with texts and themes determined by a very narrow focus. I was privy to an "Ave Maria concert" several years ago which ended up, despite its entirely unobjectionable repertoire, bothering both singers and audience; the more deeply I dove into my own project, the more I empathized with that conductor and his nearly impossible task. A series of beautiful motets, one after the other, just won't cut it. One needs to discover a structure-- a wave or a mountain or some such image of forward-moving energy, which has the power to get from here to there, without dissipating before accomplishing a full-length concert. This is always difficult with unaccompanied singing, which has so narrow and subtle a range of color and dynamics; and certainly a challenge when every single text deals with the rather limited list of Mary's attributes! I didn't want to settle on a chronological arrangement, nor on a national one-- I was more interested in mixing these particular elements, not randomly, but intuitively, much as I mix voices when placing them within a section-- not by formula, but by ear, finding the best combination of the materials at hand to build a unified section sound.

I ended up with a program built on five pillars-- five slightly varied iterations of the Ave Maria text, set in widely divergent styles (Josquin, Biebl, Bruckner, Poulenc, Rachmaninoff),for SATB, TTBB, and SSA voicings. I then worked in two chants-- a Magnificat for women's voices, Alma Redemptoris Mater for men's voices-- and two settings by scandinavian composers (Olsson and Kverno) of Ave Maris Stella. At this point I felt I needed something big, a resting place between numerous small pieces-- so I added the Gorecky Totus tuus. I chose the remaining motets and texts-- Britten, Byrd, Sandström, another Rachmaninoff-- to complement what I had.

And, with regret, I discarded just about as many pieces as I chose, each of them wonderful, because I could not justify adding them to what had come to be a unified work with a rhythm and inevitability all its own. A couple that I particularly liked and hated to lose-- Pärt Magnificat and Verdi Ave Maria-- will appear in their appropriate places at our December 6 Advent Vespers at the Monastery. A good reason to attend both events!

Bruce Tammen

All Saints concerts

Yesterday Chorale completed it's All Saints series, with a concert at Lake Forest College, as a part of the college's Lyrica series. Our other performance was the previous Sunday, November 1, at Monastery of the Holy Cross, in Bridgeport. The music was identical, but the concerts differed greatly one from the other, primarily because of differences in the venues.

Holy Cross inspires whispering, introspection, awe, and very slow tempos-- the reverberant acoustic causes harmonies to become confused and trip over themselves, if they succeed one another too quickly. Spoken communication with the audience is nearly impossible; one depends on the music itself, and the program notes, to communicate with the listeners. The vaulted ceiling, the altar, the stained glass (which shone beautifully in the natural light of a Sunday afternoon), and the monks themselves, present in their brown robes, all lent a powerful and unalterable character to our performance.

Lake Forest's chapel, on the other hand, is a warm, cozy space with comfortable chairs, lots of wood, and a clear, bright acoustic-- speaking is easy, and talking about the music with the audience feels as natural as sitting in a living room, chatting. The clarity of the acousitc made communication amongst the choir members easier, than in the Monastery-- they really had no problems hearing one another across and through the group. This sort of acoustic emboldens the singers-- but also sets a higher bar for them: the audience misses nothing. A consonant out of place, a scooped pitch, a mispronounced word-- the space is merciless. So the singers are somewhat more careful, somewhat more on edge, about the details, and less blown away by the total effect of what they are doing.

Both are wonderful venues; both were important partners in producing good concerts. I fear that we choral musicians sometimes fail to understand the importance of venue-- especially of the acoustics, but also of the overall ambiance of the space. In addition to giving the listeners' eyes something to rest on, creating a mood even before the music begins, venue is our amplifier, it shapes and directs our sound, is in many respects our voice.

Our Christmas concerts will be in two other venues-- Hyde Park Union Church, rich in wooden surfaces and museum-quality stained glass; and Church of the Holy Family, a historical and architectural monument which has graced Chicago's South Side since from before THE FIRE. Preparing for these many venues keeps us on our musical toes; it also greatly enriches our musical experience.

Bruce Tammen

Donor reception with a special treat

Last night Jana French and Peter Gotsch hosted Chorale's board and donors for a lovely evening of which Bruce's solo performance was the highlight. He sang art songs by Chausson, Debussy, and Duparc, and attendees commented afterward on the thrill of hearing Bruce "really sing" and the treat of enjoying a centuries-old form of entertainment: chamber music in the living room. Garry Grasinski also provided videos of performances, interviews, and informal footage of Chicago Chorale on a continuous loop playing throughout the evening. If you haven't seen all of Chorale's videos yet, you should! Right here. Sharon Harris

Welcome to the Chicago Chorale Conductor's Blog!

We plan to post here about once a week—usually something from the director (me), and occasionally something from a member of the group-- about the repertoire we are singing, about the techniques we utilize to learn and present that repertoire, and about other issues of general interest which come up in the course of the group’s activities. We welcome your feedback! If you wish to comment on something you read here, or have a question about the group’s activities and projects, let us know, and we’ll respond as we are able. Bruce Tammen