A ceiling-mounted octagonal light formed the centrepiece of the stage; a semicircular arrangement of upright illumination served as a back wall. Colours shifted from bright orange to sterile white. This was the clever set-up, designed by Lewis Howell, in which the musicians of Manchester Collective and Sansara choir presented a programme of music from the past 60-odd years, including three new commissions inspired by the afternoon’s lynchpin – Morton Feldman’s Rothko Chapel.
Arvo Pärt’s inward Solfeggio proved to be a great opening gambit. Halfway through, the music reached a powerful peak before evanescently winding down. The established intimacy continued in the vibrato-rich melody of Giacinto Scelsi’s Ave Maria. Cellist Nick Trygstad brilliantly conveyed its rambling and confessional character.
The first commission of the concert – Isobel Waller-Bridge’s No. 9 for choir, string quartet, celesta and percussion, inspired by Rothko's namesake painting – turned out to be my favourite. Its unfolding was effective and clear. First, gentle and angelic waves of sound slowly creep on you. Then, the music begins to quiver and gasp for air becoming more nerve-racking through roaring strings. Finally, the choir’s projection becomes too palpable, and the piece untangles itself. For the first time, we also witnessed the amazingly fluent communication between the full force of musicians.
The second commision, songs and interludes, came from Katherine Balch for soprano and alto voices, harmonica, celesta and percussion. It began with a choir of six building some intensity, then faltering and starting anew. The blending of harmonicas with celesta and percussion created an exciting combination reminiscent of warm analogue synths. The piece brimmed with textures and ideas, including whispering, percussive vocal clicks, more traditional singing, harmonicas and funky drumming; sadly, too many to make a coherent whole. Though, some individual sections were exciting, as well as Delia Stevens’ firm grip on percussion.
Two shorter works followed: an effortless rendition of Kaija Saariaho’s second miniature from 7 Papillons for solo cello, and a dramatic interpretation of Missy Mazzoli’s Vespers for Violin. The latter featured quasi-virtuosic runs processed through a delay effect, and set against a massive cinematic soundscape. While not to my taste, it definitely found its audience and provided a needed respite. The last commission, Edmund Finnis’s Blue Divided by Blue, began with an impassioned viola solo. Then, the choir joined in evolving its textures over an instrumental drone and alternating with the instrumentalists. Modal melodies grew organically one from another, and the work had a clear and satisfying structural unfolding, at times echoing some postminimalist sentiment.
Hushed and adamant drumming signalled the start of Feldman’s Rothko Chapel. The viola's opening melody emerged with an assertive tone, deviating somewhat from Feldman's characteristic sterile softness, although everything one loves about the composer was firmly present: silky temple block drumming; motionless harmonies resembling solid blocks of colour; sparse pizzicati resembling paint dripping onto a canvas. The excellent communication between musicians reached a new apogee in this work. Even the page turns were brilliantly silent. Timpani’s two-note march created an exhilarating sense of drama, a phrasing I thought I’d never use for Feldman’s music. There was also some beautiful solo soprano singing, and the soft choir entrances were spot on. The silence at the end lingered, making it difficult to return to reality.
Today’s concert ticked all the boxes for a great show: clever light set-up, a few introductory remarks, seamless transitions, skilled musicians and, naturally, an exciting programme. The ambitious goal to “invite contemplation” and “create a spiritual space” was gloriously accomplished.
