The Fredösphere

Yesterday I stopped at Borders downtown to browse, something I rarely indulge in these days.  Within seconds I had spotted two discs I badly wanted.  For now I'll discuss Accentus Transcriptions.  Follow the link and you can listen to some sound samples.

We saw Accentus chamber choir a few years ago at St. Francis church in Ann Arbor, one of the least enjoyable spaces for a concert.  We were able to sit close to Accentus so the sound-swallowing accoustics weren't a problem and our only complaint was the torture racks they call pews.  (They seem to date from a time when all Americans were four feet tall.) 

Oh, and let me complain about the grossly inadequate toilette arrangements at the church, which are shared with the performers.  Yet, if I didn't have to stand in line for so long, I would never have had the chance to stand next to William Bolcom, or hear him remark that the noise of the crowd was like a performance of aliotoric music.  Poor Bill, he found himself in a dull, awkward situation and made the best with the material he had to work with.

Accentus is big for a "chamber" choir.  It was founded by some effeminate-looking guy named Laurence Equilbey.  (Please, please follow the link and read a bit of it; I'm making a joke here people.)  I think it was this choir that opened my ears to the possibility that a choir's low end can sound with real authority if only the director has the drawing power (read:  the money) to attract a sufficient number of ultra-low basses.  Almost all amateur choirs, even the very good ones like we have at the University of Michigan, follow a bell curve distribution, meaning the very high and very low voices are rarer that you want.

Although Accentus is French, it lacked the expected continental classiness in its deportment, with plastic water bottles at their feet and a certain informal interaction with the conductor.  But hey, almost anyone can get punchy after a few weeks on tour, so maybe that's what was going on.

And what's with these Gallic noses, anyway?  I think I finally figured out how they can look so big without seeming to be very long.  The nose is long because it starts very high, up above the eyebrows.  This extends the total length but allows the tip to be located about where it should be.  Glad we got that settled.

An album devoted exclusively to choral transcriptions from instrumental music is risky, but this one works.  The Barber Agnus Dei is a demanding beast that pushes the limits of range and breathing.  A few years ago, we in the Ann Arbor Cantata Singers gave it a try and gave up after two rehearsals.  The Mahler Kein deutscher Himmel, from the Adagietto of Symphony No. 5, is included so the French can maintain their reputation for decadence -- the liner notes describe a link to A Death in Venice.  Oh, good.  But hey, they sing it wonderfully.

The one track I can't get out of my head is Soupir by Maurice Ravel / Clytus Gottwald.  I recall during the concert, I suddenly thought wait, what are those very high, very gentle pitches?  I wondered if they were overtones from a moment of harmonic perfection, then I concluded someone was whistling.  This reviewer calls it a "vocal whistle" supplied by a few sopranos.  Hard to believe.  Mesmerizing.