Music as sacrament

Commonweal, Nov, 1998 by Keith C. Burris

The first program consisted of the Bach motet "Singet dem Herrn" ("Sing to the Lord a New Song"), the Mozart Mass in C Major (or "Coronation Mass"), and the Haydn Mass in D Minor (or "Lord Nelson Mass"). The second program was English, modern, and without orchestra. It consisted of the Mass in G Minor by Ralph Vaughan Williams; Requiem, by Herbert Howells; and four pieces by Benjamin Britten: Selections from "A.M.D.G.," from the opera Gloriana, and from "Sacred and Profane"; and "Rejoice in the Lamb." It was the most intimate and perhaps most deeply moving concert of classical music I have ever heard. The listener did not want to leap out of the seat and yell "Bravo!" but simply to sit (or perhaps stand) in appreciative silence.

The first concert was sublime. But it is not possible for me to convey how poignant and profoundly beautiful the second performance was. Many factors converged. It was in a smaller space - a church, not a concert hall. There were only the choir and Mr. Shaw, no horns or strings. The performance of the Howells Requiem was dedicated to a member of the choir who had died just two days before, after what Mr. Shaw described as "a frighteningly brief" bout with cancer. The piece itself is about the death of Howells's only son. The composer wrote it, then tucked it away for almost fortyfive years. This was "the quiet music of the Holy Ghost" in a hypnotic performance. One could sense the absolute unity of the choir in total sync with its conductor. Not only was every eye on him when not on the music, but a sort of collective clock seemed to have the singers and conductor moving through the music as one unit, one spirit.

Shaw gave so utterly of himself that it was impossible not to be moved. After a two-and-a-half-hour program, the octogenarian was so exhausted that, accompanied by an aide, he simply left the hall while the audience stood waiting for him to return to take his bow. (Shaw will seldom come to the center of the stage to bow, and if pressed, will do so only once. He typically stands to the side, applauding the orchestra, soloists, and chorus, and sometimes singling out individuals for acclaim.)

Finally, at the First Baptist performance, Shaw annotated virtually every piece with his humorous, salty, deeply felt commentary, making the performance all the more personal. He was teaching the audience as well as the singers he had been instructing all week.

What is the famous "Shaw sound"? Precision plus spirit. After Greenville, I bought a non-Shaw recording of the Howells Requiem. It was very fine, but the sound was English, boyish, and sweet. When Shaw's choir sang the piece, it had been anguished, searching, and, finally, a fluid, confident prayer of consolation.

What makes "the Shaw sound"? Start with lightness and precision. Shaw knits together 160 singers to sound like 16. When he performs Bach, there is quickness yet all Bach's passion and fervor remain. There is also a singular velvety quality; an almost dancing soprano sound, never screechy or shrill; and a rich, hooty bass tone that works as a sort of Verdi-like foundation. No one gets basses to sound the way that Shaw's do. All this is accomplished according to Shaw's well-honed method: an emphasis on rhythm and on count-singing; and breaking down the music into separate tasks, so that the notes, rhythm, enunciation, dynamics, and color are all handled separately. Amazingly, in a week's rehearsal time, Shaw can get "the sound" with a choir he is guest conducting.