Monteverdi Vespers

Nov 18, 2012 - 7:00 PM

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Grant Gershon, Conductor

Walt Disney Concert Hall

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Monteverdi's Ingenious Synthesis in the Vespers of 1610

by Thomas May

Music history is filled with examples of monumental achievements that fell into oblivion soon after their composers’ deaths (if not before), only to acquire a vivid “afterlife” somewhere down the road thanks to the dedicated efforts of performers and scholars. Of course the paradigmatic example would be J.S. Bach’s St. Matthew Passion – an obscurity for several generations after Bach’s death until Felix Mendelssohn (and others) became its fervent advocates.

Yet such neglect was relatively short-lived in comparison with the lengthy historical deep freeze endured by Claudio Monteverdi’s first masterpiece of sacred music. Published in Venice in 1610, the Vespers of the Blessed Virgin (or, to use the work’s Italian title, Vespro della Beata Vergine) is part of an extraordinarily ambitious collection of sacred music (see sidebar) that also included a Mass setting. But the Vespers of 1610 (another title by which this music is known) remained at best a footnote for centuries until scholarly interest was rekindled early in the 19th century – around the time that Bach’s music also began to enjoy the same phenomenon – and it had to wait another century to be revived in performance, in a special concert given in Zurich in 1935.

Certainly the Vespers has made a comeback since then; but rather than diminish the uncertainties surrounding what Monteverdi created, such recognition has actually brought them into sharper focus. Even to refer to the Vespers as a unified “work” rests on an unverifiable assumption. For there is no unequivocal proof that Monteverdi intended the score that nowadays is usually presented in the context of a self-contained concert performance to be a single work, whether unified in artistic or in liturgical terms. (Such a secular setting for the entire Vespers moreover involves a kind of presentation more suited to the oratorios of Handel’s era and would have been unknown to Monteverdi, although his title page indicates that individual pieces might be performed in a secular palace setting.) Some argue that the 1610 publication should indeed be interpreted not as a single unified Vespers celebration but as a diverse, flexible collection of numbers available to be excerpted or performed in various contexts. This very diversity was in any case surely meant to display the full range of Monteverdi’s compositional prowess.

In this regard, the closer analogy is with Bach’s Mass in B minor as opposed to the St. Matthew Passion, since the latter was undoubtedly written for liturgical performance whereas the purpose of the Mass – a miscellaneous compilation or a unified spiritual and artistic testament? – remains a matter of debate. The list of almost uncanny parallels between the Vespers and the Mass in B minor doesn’t end there. Monteverdi’s publication and parts of Bach’s Mass might have been produced as elaborate “job applications” motivated by unhappiness with their respective current employers. We have no record of a complete performance of either work – assuming they were even meant to be performed as such – during the lifetime of each of their composers. Most significantly, the scope of both the Vespers and the Mass is breathtakingly encyclopedic and magisterial. Like Bach, Monteverdi shows his command of the wealth of musical knowledge that had accumulated by his time by effortlessly weaving together “ancient” styles and the most contemporary developments.

Of course sacred music occupied the center of Bach’s job responsibilities for the majority of his career. The mystery around the Vespers deepens when we realize that Monteverdi had little if any involvement with sacred music – at best there are scant hints – during the two decades leading up to the 1610 publication, when he served on the staff of Vincenzo Gonzaga (1562-1612), Duke of Mantua, eventually becoming music director at Gonzaga’s wellappointed palace. (The composer’s duties even included a stint tagging along with the duke to Hungary on a military campaign against the Turks and presiding over musical performances in the camp.)

Monteverdi had emerged as a precocious composer of motets and madrigals he published while still a teenager, and more recently he had expressed his wish to be able to compose sacred music for the Mantuan court. Yet as far as is known, throughout his prime Monteverdi had focused on secular genres. The years leading up to the Vespers witnessed his devotion to the revolutionary new style he cultivated in his books of madrigals and in his early operas. Indeed, among the most intriguing aspects of the Vespers is the interplay between secular and sacred idioms that underlies the collection.

Why would Monteverdi turn his attention to sacred music at this time, when he had already established a formidable reputation as a secular composer? Perhaps he did gather pieces that had been composed over many years, or he may have crafted the entire collection in a brief, concentrated timespan – this is just one of the Vespers’ many enigmas. What scarce evidence we do have, from a handful of letters, indicates how overburdened and underappreciated the composer felt regarding his position in Mantua. Simply “resigning” and seeking out another court appointment was not an option in this era. (Even Bach would later face jail time for resisting his employer’s will.) The field of church music, by contrast, beckoned as an alternative, and likely less-stressful possibility.

But there was a further impediment beyond Monteverdi’s lack of a track record in sacred composition: the fact that he was identified with the farout “modernists” for his embrace of the new style had led to controversy eagerly stirred up by enemies. Giovanni Maria Artusi, an archconservative cleric, published a pamphlet critiquing Monteverdi’s disregard of the longstanding rules of counterpoint (a style also known as the prima pratica). The composer, aided by commentary from his brother, defended himself by proudly characterizing his aesthetic as a seconda pratica – a more recent practice in which unprepared dissonances and surprising tonal shifts were not only allowed but considered necessary to enhance the emotional truth of the text being set.

The ingenious integration of both styles that is another hallmark of the Vespers thus acquires additional significance if we accept the theory that the publication of this imposing collection in 1610 was intended to advertise what Monteverdi could offer as a master of sacred music, whether to hoped-for employers in Rome or in Venice. John Whenham, an authority on the composer, argues that the Vespers of 1610 might be interpreted as a defense far more effective than any verbal counterargument against detractors by proving Monteverdi’s skill at actually following the prima pratica while at the same time seducing with the irresistible, intricate beauty of his seconda pratica expressivity.

Even more, the feat of braiding these strands together into complex structures would draw attention to his sheer technical brilliance. Monteverdi accomplishes this synthesis most obviously in the musical architecture of all five Psalm movements, the sonata, the hymn, and the Magnificat: in all of these he uses the preexisting ancient plainchant melody associated with the text in question (otherwise known as the cantus firmus) as a structural girder around which material in the new style is unfolded and elaborated. Like the Renaissance/Baroque marvel of the expanded St. Peter’s, Monteverdi builds over longstanding foundations with awe-inspiring imagination and majesty.

Tellingly, the publication of 1610 includes a setting of the Mass (Missa in illo tempore) strictly based on an “old-school” motet by Gombert. This might have hedged his bets all the more, so that there were elements to attract the relatively conservative taste in control in Rome as well as the somewhat bolder leanings of Venetian patrons. Monteverdi made a point of dedicating “the fruits of my nocturnal labor” as gathered in this impressive publication to Pope Paul V. Such a dedication, writes Whenham, “once accepted, implied papal acceptance of the music within the volume” and “a powerful antidote” to the composers’ critics. As things turned out, Monteverdi did not receive a job offer from Rome, but three years later came his appointment as maestro di cappella at St. Mark’s in Venice, where he contentedly remained for the rest of his long career.

Alongside these unresolved questions of the origin, motivation, and context behind the publication of the Vespers, there remains a host of uncertainties about how to perform the music that was in fact printed. Monteverdi clearly envisioned a sound world on the most sumptuous scale of his time, to be realized by an ensemble of virtuoso musicians: seven solo singers, instrumentalists who have taxing solo parts, and a first-rate choir capable of navigating the constantly changing stylistic currents of the musical flow. (Interestingly, he also included an alternative setting of the Magnificat – for 6- rather than 7-part choir and with only continuo accompaniment – suggesting the possibility of a reduced-scale version of the entire Vespers that could be performed with limited forces in more modest circumstances.)

Yet details are lacking on the most basic level about orchestration and the disposition of solo voices vis-à-vis the choir in the larger choral movements. Ambiguities abound as to how to deploy Monteverdi’s late Renaissance/ early Baroque instrumental ensemble, which comprises three groups, each of which has prominence throughout the score: strings, winds (including the trumpet-like, wooden cornetto and the sackbut, a forerunner of the trombone), and continuo (with its signature blend of organ, theorbo, lute, violone, and cello). There are no dynamic or even tempo indications. Every interpretation of the Vespers thus takes on a unique, unpredictable flavor. For tonight’s performance, Music Director Grant Gershon has opted after careful study to use the edition prepared by Robert King, since he believes it represents ‘the best combination of the most recent scholarship while also being user friendly for live performers.”

In this sense, encountering the Vespers in performance involves still another level of synthesis beyond what Monteverdi achieved in his masterful combination of the sacred with the secular, of ancient with modern styles, of solo with choral singing, and of the human voice with a rich orchestral tapestry: This is the synthesis between an aesthetic perspective contemporaneous with Shakespeare’s final decade and our own expectations of musical meaning.

SIDEBAR:
Structure of the Vespers
In Monteverdi’s time, Vespers – part of the cycle of Roman Catholic prayers to be recited or sung at set times of each day (early evening in this case) – was structured around a sequence of five Psalms, a hymn, the Magnificat, and other prayers. A set of responsory antiphons was used to frame the Psalms and Magnificat, with specific relevance for the liturgical time of year or feast day at hand. Monteverdi constructed his Vespers to be suitable for any of the major feasts in honor of the Virgin Mary. (There are also arguments that the Vespers may have been intended for other sacred feast days, including that of Saint Barbara, patron of the composer’s employer at the time, the Duke of Mantua.)

The most traditional aspect of the texts Monteverdi includes in his Vespers thus pertains to the large choral movements (starting with the briefer choral versicle introductory movement, which incorporates the instrumental toccata from his recent opera L’Orfeo of 1607). These consist of the five Psalm settings – Dixit Dominus (6-part choir), Laudate pueri (8-part choir), Laetatus sum (6-part choir), Nisi Dominus (10-part choir), and Lauda Ierusalem (7-part choir) – the hymn Ave Maris Stella (8-part choir), and the Magnificat (7-part choir). Traditional plainchants associated with these texts are embedded within Monteverdi’s complex and varied textures. (For example, the tenors in the divided chorus of Nisi Dominus repeat the plainchant back and forth at a slow speed while musical events unfold around it.)

Remarkably unconventional is Monteverdi’s inclusion of five special pieces he calls “sacred concertos” – a sequence of motets for steadily increasing numbers of solo voices with continuo accompaniment, as well as the mostly instrumental Sonata sopra Santa Maria. These entail highly expressive solo numbers and other alternatives that are either substitutes for or supplements to the antiphons (though the latter would still have to be recited as mandated by the liturgy). The tenor solo Nigra sum and soprano duet Pulchra es, set texts from the Song of Songs that on the surface are erotically charged but had become allegorically associated with love of Mary. Yet Monteverdi’s most up-to-date new style, perfected in his madrigals and opera writing, underscores the tension of more secular associations. The tenor trio Duo Seraphim is a tour de force of colorful solo vocal technique and “text painting” – and at the same time profoundly spiritual in its effect. Another use of echo effects resounds in the motet Audi coelum for two tenors and choir. The instrumentalists come to the fore in the wonderful Sonata (which has nothing to do with later sonata form), while a soprano choir enters and repeats its cantus firmus in varied rhythmic form 11 times.

Title	Composers/Arranger	Guest Artists
Vespro della Beata Vergine	Claudio Monteverdi	Suzanne Anderson, Soprano Claire Fedoruk, Soprano Janelle DeStefano, Mezzo Soprano Daniel Chaney, Tenor Michael Lichtenauer, Tenor Matthew Tresler, Tenor Scott Graff, Bass-Baritone Reid Bruton, Bass Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra, Guest Ensemble
1. Domine ad adiuvandum	Claudio Monteverdi
2. Dixit Dominus	Claudio Monteverdi
3. Nigra sum	Claudio Monteverdi
4. Laudate pueri	Claudio Monteverdi
5. Pulchra es	Claudio Monteverdi
6. Laetatus sum	Claudio Monteverdi
7. Duo Seraphim	Claudio Monteverdi
8. Nisi Dominus	Claudio Monteverdi
9. Audi coelum	Claudio Monteverdi
10. Lauda lerusalem	Claudio Monteverdi
11. Sonata sopra 'Sancta Maria ora pro nobis'	Claudio Monteverdi
12. Ave maris stella	Claudio Monteverdi
13. Magnificat	Claudio Monteverdi

Archival Recording

Date	Review	Media	Reviewer
Nov 20, 2012	Monteverdi's sensual, suggestive late Renaissance work is rarely heard. The chorale performs it for the first time and stays true to the complex piece. By Mark Swed, Los Angeles Times Music Critic November 19, 2012, 8:15 p.m. Monteverdi's &q... Read More Monteverdi's sensual, suggestive late Renaissance work is rarely heard. The chorale performs it for the first time and stays true to the complex piece. By Mark Swed, Los Angeles Times Music Critic November 19, 2012, 8:15 p.m. Monteverdi's "Vespers for the Blessed Virgin," which was treated to a rare and exhilarating performance by the Los Angeles Master Chorale on Sunday night at Walt Disney Concert Hall, is a towering masterpiece of the late Renaissance. It had its first performance in 1610 in Santa Barbara. No, not that Santa Barbara but the Palatine basilica of Santa Barbara in Mantua, Italy. Forgotten for three centuries, the "1610 Vespers" (as the work has come to be known) was first revived in Zurich in 1935. But 15 years later in our Santa Barbara, the prominent French composer Darius Milhaud visited the Academy of the West to tell of the wonders of Monteverdi's score. In 1955, Robert Craft finally conducted the West Coast premiere of the "1610 Vespers" at the nearby Ojai Festival, and that was the revival that mattered. Craft put Monteverdi in context of recent work by Stravinsky and Bartók. A transfixed Stravinsky attended all the rehearsals and the performance, as did the writer Aldous Huxley. A very young Marilyn Horne was one of the singers. So was a very young Paul Salamunovich, who would go on to become music director of the Los Angeles Master Chorale from 1991 to 2001. But it was only Sunday that Master Chorale, conducted by Salamunovich's successor, Grant Gershon, finally tackled the 90-minute collection of unbelievably sensual choral psalm settings and shockingly suggestive sacred concertos, concluding with a glorious Magnificat. Members of the period instrument ensemble Musica Angelica formed the small but powerful orchestra. Gershon had the night before conducted Puccini in an idiomatic yet cleanly contemporary style for Los Angeles Opera's new production of "Madame Butterfly." His Monteverdi proved just as admirably true to a 400-year-earlier Italian style and just as admirably contemporary. Best of all, it was just as operatic. These vespers made for a busy evening. Each of the seven choral numbers and the Magnificat required a different configuration, and the 40 singers were constantly on the move. The eight soloists for the song settings were drawn from the chorus and were excellent. Tenor Daniel Chaney was a standout, if an overly demonstrative one. The sopranos Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk provided notable grace. Gershon took advantage of Disney Hall to occasionally place singers in different locations for echo effects and the like. Early music practice was practiced. The soloists ornamented the lines, some elaborately. There are different theories about what kinds of instruments Monteverdi might have used. Musica Angelica contributed a string quartet, a pair of large lutes, a small portable organ and half a dozen brass (the valveless cornets were dazzling). I subscribe to inclusion of woodwinds, but you can't have everything. The complexity of Monteverdi's choral setting can take your breath away, especially when ricocheting rhythmic lines coming in and out of phase with the modernity of a 17th century Steve Reich. But what is most impressive about the "1610 Vespers," and certainly what was most impressive to Stravinsky and Huxley, was the way Monteverdi combined the newest styles of modern text setting that was the force behind the then brand new medium of opera with the more conventional Renaissance sacred music. Monteverdi juxtaposed, rather than combined, old and new, so that one would illuminate the other. Every moment that goes by is a moment in which the composer tries out something new. There are no compromises, the way many so-called eclectic young composers do these days, mushing together styles or finding common ground with a backbeat. Here is music in which old and new remain old and new, respectfully. That is what Stravinsky took away from "1610 Vespers," and that happened to be what made his late, L.A. music so movingly severe and voluptuous at the same time. Gershon followed just such a Stravinskian path in a performance where being sexy and sacred did not result in someone being stoned, a performance suitable for the church and the theater and club. Public life is rarely like that anymore in our divisive culture. But the Master Chorale revealed how these 400-year-old Vespers remain vestiges of a better third way. Read Less	Los Angeles Times	Mark Swed
Nov 19, 2012	A very large, almost sold out Walt Disney Concert Hall audience heaped enthusiastic applause and approval on Maestro Grant Gershon and his fellow artists at the conclusion of Claudio Monteverdi’s sprawling Vespers, described in Thomas May’s excellent program annotations as &l... Read More A very large, almost sold out Walt Disney Concert Hall audience heaped enthusiastic applause and approval on Maestro Grant Gershon and his fellow artists at the conclusion of Claudio Monteverdi’s sprawling Vespers, described in Thomas May’s excellent program annotations as “a diverse, flexible collection of numbers available to be excerpted or performed in various contexts. This diversity was in any case surely meant to display the full range of Monteverdi’s compositional prowess.” Monteverdi lived at a most interesting time for any composer: at the end of the long Renaissance period in which unmetered music was the rule, mostly in the sacred context, which was challenged by the metered secular madrigals that the composer wrote in his earliest years, a collision of styles that drew criticism down upon his head. Publication of the Vespers, also known as Vespro della Beata Vergine, was his answer to the critics. Although published in 1610, elements of the Vespers were probably written over a ten-year span prior to that year. There are 13 movements, most of which may be performed independently of the others, but which are largely comprised of Psalm settings interspersed by highly florid solos, duets and smaller ensembles that allow for individual vocal fireworks, some of which are credited to Monteverdi’s own creativity and not carried over into the newly emerging, dryer early Baroque style, and some of which were. It is said that ladies of Ferrara and Mantua vied with each other to produce the most astounding vocal displays. Such displays were generously performed by several soloists drawn from the ranks of the Master Chorale itself. They were sopranos Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk; mezzo soprano Janelle DeStefano; tenors Daniel Chaney, Michael Lichtenauer and Matthew Tresler; baritone Scott Graff, and bass Reid Bruton. All were excellent advocates of Monteverdian style points, with Ms. Fedoruk and Mr. Chaney meeting the greatest challenges. Mr. Tresler’s “Nigra sum” was perhaps the most memorable for artistic shading matched to the text. The duet-cum-trio “Duo Seraphim” (Two Angels) begun by Messrs. Cheney and Lichtenauer (previously incorrectly identified as Mr. Graff), later with the addition of Mr. Tresler when the text changes to “Tres sunt” (There are three), made magic. A personal favorite was the Marian antiphon “Ave maris stella” (Hail, Star of the Sea) brilliantly worked out by Maestro Gershon, starting with an a cappella first stanza, adding to that a solo theorbo accompaniment on the second stanza, joined in the third by the continuo, the next three stanzas sung by Ms. DeStefano, Ms. Fedoruk and Mr. Graff, with all forces combining at the conclusion. Throughout, the Master Chorale sang with expected brilliance, although for this occasion, a “small call” of 40 voices was employed. In the early 17^th century, so far as we know, this music was never performed in a venue the size of Disney Hall, so one can forgive Ms. Fedoruk’s having to choose between projecting to the topmost balcony and singing the delicate filigree to which her voice is so well suited. Her artistry was never in question although not every lower note could be heard. Maybe it was Maestro Gershon’s intimate association with Los Angeles Opera, where he presides as chorus director, that predisposed a constant movement on stage, but Chorale members were given a virtual road map of stage placements, which humorously led to Mr. Chaney’s forgetting which side he was to be on, and his tip-toeing across to the other side, to the audience’s great amusement. He was not alone in losing focus on placement, by the way. No matter. The singing was always superb. Los Angeles’s own world class Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra accompanied, with an equally small-sized component of 13 players, of whom Ingrid Matthews and Janet Strauss impressed greatly with their embellished violin interludes in various movements, but particularly in the Sonata sopra: Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis. Maestro Gershon kept a perfect balance between instruments and voices throughout, which is not an easy task in a series of movements constantly shifting participants. The long, sustained applause at concert’s end endorsed Maestro Gershon’s choice of the Vespers, and the utterly musical product that resulted. Read Less	LA Opus	Douglas Neslund
Nov 18, 2012	On Sunday, Nov. 18th, 2012, at The Walt Disney Hall, the LA Master Chorale under the baton of Grant Gershon along with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra gave a superb performance of religious music, Vespers 1610, written over 500 years ago by Claudio Monteverdi. <... Read More On Sunday, Nov. 18th, 2012, at The Walt Disney Hall, the LA Master Chorale under the baton of Grant Gershon along with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra gave a superb performance of religious music, Vespers 1610, written over 500 years ago by Claudio Monteverdi. The audience, in the almost sold out house sat without intermission, to hear this rarely performed work by the great Renaissance composer and inventor of the opera form. Monteverdi's Vespers 1610 is a collection of 13 religious pieces sung in Latin. The work includes solos, duets, trios, antiphonal choral parts, and dances. Conducting with elegant verve, Grant Gershon lead 40 of his singers from the Chorale in a masterful 80 minute concert along with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra, that brought new life to Monteverdi's work. Grant Gershon, who also conducts the LA Opera Chorus, as well as conducting LA Opera's new production of Madame Butterfly this week, showed he is no stranger to the special intricacies of early music. Equally at home in this specialized music were his singers. Especially effective was his use of the stage creating an atmosphere recalling a large Renaissance Church with it's lofts and balconies. He moved his singers into fluid positions with each number, including antiphonal groupings, off-stage locations, and different instrumental placements in the hall, to enhance the acoustical effects and compositional structures in Monteverdi's music. In another departure from a formal concert presentation, Gershon took a pause after the first two numbers, and spoke to the audience about this unusual work, written during a difficult time in Monteverdi's life. At other times, when the soloists sang alone accompanied by the instrumentalists, he relaxed in a jazz-like style, took a seat and listened to the soloists, without conducting. Consistent throughout the evening however, were the expressive and supple voices of the 40 members of his LA Master Chorale, admirably accompanied by the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra, who performed Monteverdi's music with delicate fire. This small orchestra of 13 players played period instruments that featured a warmer and more mellow timbre than is heard from our modern instruments. Particularly pleasing were the warm timbres of the cornettos made of wood (sounding like a trumpet) and the Sackbut (a kind of sliding trombone/trumpet). The other instruments were: violins, cello, violone (smaller cello), archlute, theorbo, (two types of lutes) and the portatif organ (a kind of portable organ). Monteverdi's dramatic and at times playful rendering of the sacred text of various psalms and hymns, employed florid runs, trills and trillos, dance like rhythms, and languid legatos that demanded of the singers exceptional breath control and articulation. The eight soloists - Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk sopranos; Janelle DeStefano, mezzo-soprano; Daniel Chaney, Michael Lichtenauer and Matthew Tresler, tenors; Scott Graff, baritone, and Reid Bruton, bass, all performed with ease and keen musicality. Three soloists, however, were standouts. Clair Fedoruk, soprano, shone with a special grace. She used her rather small voice with its exquisite timbre, vibrato and diction, to deliver Monteverdi's music with great charm of expression. Daniel Chaney, tenor, who in the beginning numbers at times sounded rather pinched and nasal in tone, sang with great dramatic effect and at times baritonal warmth, in his extended solo of the 9th number, Audi Coelum (a hymn to Mother Mary). He was excellently partnered by the tenor voice of Michael Lichtenauer, who sang high up overlooking the stage where the grand Organ is, echoing his partner below. His beautiful and perfectly placed tenor was a pleasure to hear. At the conclusion of this memorable 80 minute performance, many in the audience stood up in appreciation, amidst bravos and sustained applause. FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT LA MASTER CHORALE'S 2012-2013 SEASON: www.http://www.lamc.org Read Less	Examiner.com	Ahdda Shur
Nov 28, 2012	Los Angeles today might not be the first place that comes to mind when seeking out hymns to the Blessed Virgin Mary. However, a recent concert on Sunday, November 18, at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, featuring Monteverdi’s Vespers (Ve... Read More Los Angeles today might not be the first place that comes to mind when seeking out hymns to the Blessed Virgin Mary. However, a recent concert on Sunday, November 18, at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, featuring Monteverdi’s Vespers (Vespro della Beata Vergine) of 1610, was not the first time that this city has lived up to its literal name. I recall my discovery several years ago of one of the most beautiful versions of the Ave Maria composed since Schubert. It was written by Los Angeles composer Morton Lauridsen, with whom I’ve since become acquainted. When I asked Lauridsen, a Protestant, about this radiant a cappella motet, so suffused with love for Mary, he responded, “I don’t have to belong to the Catholic Church to be in love with Mary.” The recent concert I attended brought this to mind for a reason. The Vespers were performed with outstanding vocal purity by the Los Angeles Master Chorale. It is this same group that premiered the Ave Maria, which, in fact, was composed in honor of Paul Salamunovich, its director at the time. These forces made the world premiere recording on the RCM label (9705). Several weeks ago, I was absolutely floored when I received a UPS tube from Lauridsen, because it contained the original manuscript sketch of the opening measures of Ave Maria, given to me because the composer knows how much I love the music. Needless to say, the preciousness of this gift went straight through my heart. My expectations for the performance of the Vespers were high because of my prior acquaintance with the LA Master Chorale through both the Lauridsen recording and its performances of the wonderful Te Deum by Dominick Argento and Maurice Durufle’s Messe “Cum Jubilo,” also for the RCM label. My expectations were easily met by the Chorale, now under the baton of Grant Gershon, along with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra. First some words about the extraordinary Vespers. Monteverdi was not primarily known for religious or liturgical music, but rather for his secular motets, madrigals and operas. Why he wrote the Vespers is a matter of speculation. Some think it was a job résumé, which he intended to help him escape the court of Mantua for a more favorable and lucrative locale. In any case, it seemed to work, as he was offered a place at St. Mark’s in Venice, where he served as maestro di cappella for the rest of his long career, which ended with his death in 1643. Monteverdi’s Vespers are in the tradition of the sung evening service for feasts of the Virgin Mary. For this, he gave choral settings to five psalms (Dixit Dominus [6-part choir], Laudate pueri [8-part choir], Laetatus sum [6-part choir], Nisi Dominus [10-part choir], and Lauda Ierusalem [7-part choir]), followed by the Marian hymn, Ave Maris Stella, and a setting of the Magnificat, which closes the work. Between the psalms, Monteverdi inserted five “sacred concertos,” a sequence of motets for a gradually increasing number of solo voices, with continuo accompaniment—the last one, an exuberant Sonata Sopra ‘Sancta Maria ora pro nobis’, with an extensive instrumental introduction, followed by the full chorus. It is unclear whether Monteverdi expected the Vespers to be performed all together, or only in parts. Nonetheless, it has become the custom to play the whole piece together, which takes about an hour and a half. Much to the credit of the LA Master Chorale, the Vespers were played without intermission. The singing was thrilling, from the first entry by the tenor at Deus in adiutorium meum intende, followed by the resplendent full chorus and orchestra, till the closing, magnificent Magnificat. The eight soloists, drawn from the 40-member Chorale, were all outstanding, especially tenors Daniel Chaney, Michael Lichtenaurer, and Matthew Tresler, and sopranos Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk. Tresler’s solo in Nigra Sum was tender and exquisitely delicate. In the Duo Seraphim, the piece was begun by Michael Lichtenauer and Chaney in a brilliant evocation of the text describing “two Seraphim … calling one to the other,” as they sang antiphonally back and forth until, when the Holy Spirit enters, they were appropriately joined by the third tenor, Tresler. The singing and the effect were simply superb. Though this “sacred concerto” only lasts about four minutes, it was one of the highlights of the evening. These first two tenors again created an excellent impression in the next “sacred concerto,” Audi coelam. Chaney sang downstage, praying to heaven, while Tresler, placed above in the organ loft, sang the heavenly answers to the prayers. Visually and dramatically this worked stunningly well. The last “sacred concerto,” Sonata Sopra ‘Sancta Maria ora pro nobis,’ after an orchestral introduction, contains a very lovely violin duo that was well played by Ingrid Mathews and Janet Strauss. When the full chorus joined in, the effect was inspiriting. With my comments on the soloists, in fact, I may seem to be neglecting the chorus, for which no praise could be too high. Not only was the singing spot on throughout, but it was infused with spirit or, I might even say, soul. This was no where more evident than in Ave Maris Stella and the splendidly sung Magnificat. I have two niggles. Music director Grant Gershon, who otherwise did such a magnificent job, turned to address the audience after the first Psalm in order to explain the music to us. I think this was a mistake. He was simply extemporizing what was already in the program notes. By breaking through the fourth wall, by violating the dramatic space between his performers and the audience, some of the mystique of the Vespers evaporated. It was after the spell was broken that the audience felt free to applaud after each number, which again interrupted the atmosphere. Unfortunately, Gershon made another interpolation after the last Psalm. I was also given intermittent pause by the Musica Angelica, its 13 members playing on original instruments. I found that when the members of this Baroque orchestra were individually accompanying the singers, everything was generally fine. In fact, the string and lute players seemed particularly fine. However, when playing as an ensemble, they occasionally sounded slightly out of sync and not quite in tune. I do not know if Cornettos and Sackbuts are particularly unwieldy brass instruments, but they certainly sounded unwieldy. However, I often find the sound of original instruments faintly ridiculous, so I may be prejudiced in this area—one in which I admit to no expertise. I note that other reviewers (LA Times, Examiner.com) were thrilled, but I have to trust my ears on this one. Monteverdi was renowned in his time for his highly expressive vocal style. What about for our time? Does it still convey? The answer from the Walt Disney Concert Hall is that, when sung as splendidly as it was by the LA Master Chorale—yes, the Vespers are for our time or any other. There is something timeless about music like this, which is the whole idea. It is also clear from this great composition that Monteverdi was every bit as much in love with Mary, as is Morton Lauridsen. It is quite a coincidence that the loves of these two composers have been so effectively communicated by the same performers. Or perhaps, as unexpected as it might be—could this be something about the City of Angels? Read Less	Crisis Magazine	Robert R. Reilly
Nov 30, 2012	After Los Angeles Master Chorale's (LAMC) astoundingly successful performance of Claudio Monteverdi's Vespers of the Blessed Virgin (commonly known as the Vespers of 1610, having been published in that year), I felt the same rejuvenation and relaxation that would follow a lu... Read More After Los Angeles Master Chorale's (LAMC) astoundingly successful performance of Claudio Monteverdi's Vespers of the Blessed Virgin (commonly known as the Vespers of 1610, having been published in that year), I felt the same rejuvenation and relaxation that would follow a luxuriant all-day health spa retreat. Having never heard the revolutionary and monumental work before, I was astonished that something written in the last decade of Shakespeare's life could be so sensual. The texts may be sacred, but much of the composition clearly makes use of secular music — most notably dance; hence, my relaxation from the appropriate solemnity, and my rejuvenation from the modes of music, including Gregorian chant (aka plainsong or plainchant), Renaissance dance, madrigal, and opera (notably, the first opera still to be regularly performed is Monteverdi's L'Orfeo, composed for the court of Mantua in 1607). The 90-minute Vespers, written for choir, soloists and orchestra, has been recorded and performed in various ways, from scaled-down versions, with soloists as the choir, to monumental, with giant orchestras. At Walt Disney Concert Hall, LAMC joined forces with Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra, which employed period instruments, to present a "historically informed" performance featuring 40 singers from the Chorale, including soloists Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk (Sopranos), Janelle DeStefano (Mezzo-Soprano), and Matthew Tresler, Daniel Chaney, and Michael Lichtenauer (Tenors). The Chorale handled Monteverdi's complexities and cross-rhythms with a rich life-force befitting one of the world's greatest singing groups. The orchestra included a string quartet, an enormous lute (which I believe is called a theorbo), a rather petite moveable organ, and six brasses, which include the cornetto (valveless cornet) and sackbut (medieval form of the trombone). While I certainly appreciate the historical integrity, the orchestra was occasionally lost amid the sumptuous power of the chorus. While I have some issues with the unusual blend of the instruments (the organ was practically indistinct), the exquisiteness of Musica Angelica cannot be denied. Still, some of the instruments not only looked cumbersome but sounded a bit unwieldy as well. While they no doubt contributed to the drama of the fully-realized spectacle, and the ear does become accustomed to the accompaniment, I longed for a more a more resounding and dramatic instrumental interpretation. The Vespers' individual sections require various arrangements of the performers, so Music Director Grant Gershon, who led with vitality, made ample use of the space by splitting or seating the chorus, and when two tenor soloists sang a call and response during the "Audi coelom" motet, Gershon placed Chaney downstage and Tresler above the stage alongside a cellist in the loft of the Hall's colossal organ, creating a delightful echo effect. At one point, soloist Daniel Chaney inadvertently interrupted the gravity of the event when trying to remember his place on stage — Chaney was quite effusive in his execution, which occasionally was borderline comical and mildly distracting, but his combination of strength, sweetness and expressiveness in voice made him the standout soloist of the evening. In a strange but endearing way, Chaney mirrored the novel compositional and theatrical techniques employed by Monteverdi. Ms. Anderson and Ms. Fedoruk sang with uncommon clarity and grace, and I loved the way in which Mr. Tresler tenderly and delicately caressed his grace notes during his solo, "Nigra Sum." Monteverdi helped lay the foundation for the stylistic conventions of the Baroque period, which extended approximately from 1600 — ten years before the Vespers was writtenÂÂ—to 1750, the year of Bach's death (and one year after he completed his B Minor Mass). Not only are Monteverdi and Bach bookends to the Baroque era, in which composers used more intricate and extravagant musical ornamentation, but many scholars hold the 90-minute Vespers as the greatest work of sacred music prior to Bach's Mass. There was no intermission, but Mr. Gershon took a break at one point to inform the near-capacity audience that, presumably, Monteverdi intended this daunting collection to be something of a calling card to advertise himself as a master of sacred music — a sort of audition to land a job with the Pope (Monteverdi did get an appointment as maestro di cappella at St Mark's Basilica in Venice in 1613, but Rome never offered a post). Whatever his motivations, the spiritually uplifting musical forms based on Biblical texts — including psalms, motets, a traditional hymn, a sonata, and a superb Magnificat — contain such a startling inventiveness and diversity that it almost seems criminal the ambitious work fell into obscurity for over 300 years. LAMC is to be commended for illuminating the relevancy of the work, which, by interpolating the "old" and the "new" of its time, has become a composition for the ages. Los Angeles Master Chorale with Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra Monteverdi's Vespers of 1610 played Walt Disney Concert Hall on November 18, 2012 for future LAMC shows, call 213-972-7282 or visit http://www.lamc.org Read Less	Stage and Cimena	Tony Frankel
Dec 12, 2012	Downtown L.A. is certainly an epicenter for 21st century hustle and bustle. But inside of the Walt Disney Concert Hall, with its futuristic façade, one can find an acoustical oasis from the dissonant sounds of traffic, construction, boom boxes and the like, far from the madding c... Read More Downtown L.A. is certainly an epicenter for 21st century hustle and bustle. But inside of the Walt Disney Concert Hall, with its futuristic façade, one can find an acoustical oasis from the dissonant sounds of traffic, construction, boom boxes and the like, far from the madding crowd. To paraphrase Max Ehrmann's splendiferous poem, Desiderata, within this vestibule of a more genteel culture one can "Flow placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in sacred music." With its performance of four-century-old vocal and instrumental compositions, the Concert Hall became a sort of time machine on November 18, as the Los Angeles Master Chorale and Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra presented the Italian composer Claudio Monteverdi's seldom played 1610 Vespers of the Blessed Virgin. Vespers is a form of religious music derived from Catholic prayers and Monteverdi's scarcely heard hymns were serenely sung by the aptly named Master Chorale's 40-ish sopranos, altos, tenors and basses, stylishly clad in gowns and tuxedos, conducted by music director Grant Gershon. Eight soloists alternated with groups of singers, males with females, moving on and off the stage and around the interior of the Disney, even climbing up beside the organ in the nosebleed seats, as if to be closer to the god they were praising in Latin. (The Vespers' texts were translated in Performances Magazine, a program guide given to each ticket buyer.) The Chorale was accompanied by the Orchestra, which likewise varied in size over the course of the 90-ish minute Vespers, ranging up to 13 musicians. The baroque band leaned towards the strings, with two violinists, a violone-ist and a cello-ist, and most intriguingly and entrancingly for one accustomed to 21st century instrumentation, an arch-lute and a theorbo, played by John Schneiderman and Daniel Zuluaga. The latter two are long necked plucked stringed instruments; with their round deep backs, lutes were all the rage during the Renaissance, while theorbos were popularized in the late 16th century. Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra also includes a portative organ (Ian Pritchard tickled the proverbial ivories) and a brass section consisting of three cornetto plus three sackbut players. The latter is a Renaissance/Baroque era trombone with a telescopic slide that allows for a more chromatic range of notes. The combination of the Chorale and Orchestra produced a mellifluous, transcendent, soaring, sublime sound. The tranquil tonalities and harmonies transported one's soul either back in time, before modernism's harsh sound and fury, or even towards the heavens. Mezzo Soprano Janelle DeStafano's solos were particularly lovely. Indeed, the music's delicate beauty made one feel that the "house of the lord" they sang about was right there in the Concert Hall Â— that is, if one believes music is the laughter of the lord. Interestingly, some of the Vespers' lyrics are sexually suggestive. For instance, in Nigra Sum the sensuous words translate as: "I am a black but beautiful daughter of Jerusalem, So the king loved me and led me into his bedroom and said to me: ‘Arise, my love, and come away… the time of pruning has come.'" Well, who's to say what's sacred and what's profane? No "ifs," "ands" or "buts" about it: How splendid to hear this all too rare rendition, with sackbuts, a lute and theorbo played about 400 years after their heydays, long after heavy metal rockers and hip-hoppers have replaced strolling minstrels and troubadours. As Desiderata counsels: "Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit." These age old instruments, along with Monteverdi, still offer repose and solace in order to soothe the seething souls of our high anxiety age. DeStefano returns with the Los Angeles Master Chorale, conducted by Music Director Grant Gershon, to perform another holiday season program entitled Rejoice! that includes the complete 1723 version of Johann Sebastian Bach's Magnificat and Antonio Vivaldi's Gloria. Bach's motet Lobet den Herrn, alle Heiden opens the performance. Gershon and KUSC host Alan Chapman participate in ListenUp!, the pre-concert talk ,at 6:00 p.m., free to ticketholders, followed by the program on: Sunday, December 16, 2012, at 7:00 p.m. at Walt Disney Concert Hall, 111 South Grand Avenue at First Street in downtown Los Angeles. For information: (213) 972-7282. Read Less	Hollywood Progressive	Ed Rampell

Monteverdi's Ingenious Synthesis in the Vespers of 1610

by Thomas May Music history is filled with examples of monumental achievements that fell into oblivion soon after their composers’ deaths (if not before), only to acquire a vivid “afterlife” somewhere down the road thanks to the dedicated efforts of performers and scholars. Of course the paradigmatic example would be J.S. Bach’s St. Matthew Passion – an obscurity for several generations after Bach’s death until Felix Mendelssohn (and others) became its fervent advocates. Yet such neglect was relatively short-lived in comparison with the lengthy historical deep freeze endured by Claudio Monteverdi’s first masterpiece of sacred music. Published in Venice in 1610, the Vespers of the Blessed Virgin (or, to use the work’s Italian title, Vespro della Beata Vergine) is part of an extraordinarily ambitious collection of sacred music (see sidebar) that also included a Mass setting. But the Vespers of 1610 (another title by which this music is known) remained at best a footnote for centuries until scholarly interest was rekindled early in the 19th century – around the time that Bach’s music also began to enjoy the same phenomenon – and it had to wait another century to be revived in performance, in a special concert given in Zurich in 1935. Certainly the Vespers has made a comeback since then; but rather than diminish the uncertainties surrounding what Monteverdi created, such recognition has actually brought them into sharper focus. Even to refer to the Vespers as a unified “work” rests on an unverifiable assumption. For there is no unequivocal proof that Monteverdi intended the score that nowadays is usually presented in the context of a self-contained concert performance to be a single work, whether unified in artistic or in liturgical terms. (Such a secular setting for the entire Vespers moreover involves a kind of presentation more suited to the oratorios of Handel’s era and would have been unknown to Monteverdi, although his title page indicates that individual pieces might be performed in a secular palace setting.) Some argue that the 1610 publication should indeed be interpreted not as a single unified Vespers celebration but as a diverse, flexible collection of numbers available to be excerpted or performed in various contexts. This very diversity was in any case surely meant to display the full range of Monteverdi’s compositional prowess. In this regard, the closer analogy is with Bach’s Mass in B minor as opposed to the St. Matthew Passion, since the latter was undoubtedly written for liturgical performance whereas the purpose of the Mass – a miscellaneous compilation or a unified spiritual and artistic testament? – remains a matter of debate. The list of almost uncanny parallels between the Vespers and the Mass in B minor doesn’t end there. Monteverdi’s publication and parts of Bach’s Mass might have been produced as elaborate “job applications” motivated by unhappiness with their respective current employers. We have no record of a complete performance of either work – assuming they were even meant to be performed as such – during the lifetime of each of their composers. Most significantly, the scope of both the Vespers and the Mass is breathtakingly encyclopedic and magisterial. Like Bach, Monteverdi shows his command of the wealth of musical knowledge that had accumulated by his time by effortlessly weaving together “ancient” styles and the most contemporary developments. Of course sacred music occupied the center of Bach’s job responsibilities for the majority of his career. The mystery around the Vespers deepens when we realize that Monteverdi had little if any involvement with sacred music – at best there are scant hints – during the two decades leading up to the 1610 publication, when he served on the staff of Vincenzo Gonzaga (1562-1612), Duke of Mantua, eventually becoming music director at Gonzaga’s wellappointed palace. (The composer’s duties even included a stint tagging along with the duke to Hungary on a military campaign against the Turks and presiding over musical performances in the camp.) Monteverdi had emerged as a precocious composer of motets and madrigals he published while still a teenager, and more recently he had expressed his wish to be able to compose sacred music for the Mantuan court. Yet as far as is known, throughout his prime Monteverdi had focused on secular genres. The years leading up to the Vespers witnessed his devotion to the revolutionary new style he cultivated in his books of madrigals and in his early operas. Indeed, among the most intriguing aspects of the Vespers is the interplay between secular and sacred idioms that underlies the collection. Why would Monteverdi turn his attention to sacred music at this time, when he had already established a formidable reputation as a secular composer? Perhaps he did gather pieces that had been composed over many years, or he may have crafted the entire collection in a brief, concentrated timespan – this is just one of the Vespers’ many enigmas. What scarce evidence we do have, from a handful of letters, indicates how overburdened and underappreciated the composer felt regarding his position in Mantua. Simply “resigning” and seeking out another court appointment was not an option in this era. (Even Bach would later face jail time for resisting his employer’s will.) The field of church music, by contrast, beckoned as an alternative, and likely less-stressful possibility. But there was a further impediment beyond Monteverdi’s lack of a track record in sacred composition: the fact that he was identified with the farout “modernists” for his embrace of the new style had led to controversy eagerly stirred up by enemies. Giovanni Maria Artusi, an archconservative cleric, published a pamphlet critiquing Monteverdi’s disregard of the longstanding rules of counterpoint (a style also known as the prima pratica). The composer, aided by commentary from his brother, defended himself by proudly characterizing his aesthetic as a seconda pratica – a more recent practice in which unprepared dissonances and surprising tonal shifts were not only allowed but considered necessary to enhance the emotional truth of the text being set. The ingenious integration of both styles that is another hallmark of the Vespers thus acquires additional significance if we accept the theory that the publication of this imposing collection in 1610 was intended to advertise what Monteverdi could offer as a master of sacred music, whether to hoped-for employers in Rome or in Venice. John Whenham, an authority on the composer, argues that the Vespers of 1610 might be interpreted as a defense far more effective than any verbal counterargument against detractors by proving Monteverdi’s skill at actually following the prima pratica while at the same time seducing with the irresistible, intricate beauty of his seconda pratica expressivity. Even more, the feat of braiding these strands together into complex structures would draw attention to his sheer technical brilliance. Monteverdi accomplishes this synthesis most obviously in the musical architecture of all five Psalm movements, the sonata, the hymn, and the Magnificat: in all of these he uses the preexisting ancient plainchant melody associated with the text in question (otherwise known as the cantus firmus) as a structural girder around which material in the new style is unfolded and elaborated. Like the Renaissance/Baroque marvel of the expanded St. Peter’s, Monteverdi builds over longstanding foundations with awe-inspiring imagination and majesty. Tellingly, the publication of 1610 includes a setting of the Mass (Missa in illo tempore) strictly based on an “old-school” motet by Gombert. This might have hedged his bets all the more, so that there were elements to attract the relatively conservative taste in control in Rome as well as the somewhat bolder leanings of Venetian patrons. Monteverdi made a point of dedicating “the fruits of my nocturnal labor” as gathered in this impressive publication to Pope Paul V. Such a dedication, writes Whenham, “once accepted, implied papal acceptance of the music within the volume” and “a powerful antidote” to the composers’ critics. As things turned out, Monteverdi did not receive a job offer from Rome, but three years later came his appointment as maestro di cappella at St. Mark’s in Venice, where he contentedly remained for the rest of his long career. Alongside these unresolved questions of the origin, motivation, and context behind the publication of the Vespers, there remains a host of uncertainties about how to perform the music that was in fact printed. Monteverdi clearly envisioned a sound world on the most sumptuous scale of his time, to be realized by an ensemble of virtuoso musicians: seven solo singers, instrumentalists who have taxing solo parts, and a first-rate choir capable of navigating the constantly changing stylistic currents of the musical flow. (Interestingly, he also included an alternative setting of the Magnificat – for 6- rather than 7-part choir and with only continuo accompaniment – suggesting the possibility of a reduced-scale version of the entire Vespers that could be performed with limited forces in more modest circumstances.) Yet details are lacking on the most basic level about orchestration and the disposition of solo voices vis-à-vis the choir in the larger choral movements. Ambiguities abound as to how to deploy Monteverdi’s late Renaissance/ early Baroque instrumental ensemble, which comprises three groups, each of which has prominence throughout the score: strings, winds (including the trumpet-like, wooden cornetto and the sackbut, a forerunner of the trombone), and continuo (with its signature blend of organ, theorbo, lute, violone, and cello). There are no dynamic or even tempo indications. Every interpretation of the Vespers thus takes on a unique, unpredictable flavor. For tonight’s performance, Music Director Grant Gershon has opted after careful study to use the edition prepared by Robert King, since he believes it represents ‘the best combination of the most recent scholarship while also being user friendly for live performers.” In this sense, encountering the Vespers in performance involves still another level of synthesis beyond what Monteverdi achieved in his masterful combination of the sacred with the secular, of ancient with modern styles, of solo with choral singing, and of the human voice with a rich orchestral tapestry: This is the synthesis between an aesthetic perspective contemporaneous with Shakespeare’s final decade and our own expectations of musical meaning. SIDEBAR: Structure of the Vespers In Monteverdi’s time, Vespers – part of the cycle of Roman Catholic prayers to be recited or sung at set times of each day (early evening in this case) – was structured around a sequence of five Psalms, a hymn, the Magnificat, and other prayers. A set of responsory antiphons was used to frame the Psalms and Magnificat, with specific relevance for the liturgical time of year or feast day at hand. Monteverdi constructed his Vespers to be suitable for any of the major feasts in honor of the Virgin Mary. (There are also arguments that the Vespers may have been intended for other sacred feast days, including that of Saint Barbara, patron of the composer’s employer at the time, the Duke of Mantua.) The most traditional aspect of the texts Monteverdi includes in his Vespers thus pertains to the large choral movements (starting with the briefer choral versicle introductory movement, which incorporates the instrumental toccata from his recent opera L’Orfeo of 1607). These consist of the five Psalm settings – Dixit Dominus (6-part choir), Laudate pueri (8-part choir), Laetatus sum (6-part choir), Nisi Dominus (10-part choir), and Lauda Ierusalem (7-part choir) – the hymn Ave Maris Stella (8-part choir), and the Magnificat (7-part choir). Traditional plainchants associated with these texts are embedded within Monteverdi’s complex and varied textures. (For example, the tenors in the divided chorus of Nisi Dominus repeat the plainchant back and forth at a slow speed while musical events unfold around it.) Remarkably unconventional is Monteverdi’s inclusion of five special pieces he calls “sacred concertos” – a sequence of motets for steadily increasing numbers of solo voices with continuo accompaniment, as well as the mostly instrumental Sonata sopra Santa Maria. These entail highly expressive solo numbers and other alternatives that are either substitutes for or supplements to the antiphons (though the latter would still have to be recited as mandated by the liturgy). The tenor solo Nigra sum and soprano duet Pulchra es, set texts from the Song of Songs that on the surface are erotically charged but had become allegorically associated with love of Mary. Yet Monteverdi’s most up-to-date new style, perfected in his madrigals and opera writing, underscores the tension of more secular associations. The tenor trio Duo Seraphim is a tour de force of colorful solo vocal technique and “text painting” – and at the same time profoundly spiritual in its effect. Another use of echo effects resounds in the motet Audi coelum for two tenors and choir. The instrumentalists come to the fore in the wonderful Sonata (which has nothing to do with later sonata form), while a soprano choir enters and repeats its cantus firmus in varied rhythmic form 11 times.

Title	Composers/Arranger	Guest Artists
Vespro della Beata Vergine	Claudio Monteverdi	Suzanne Anderson, Soprano Claire Fedoruk, Soprano Janelle DeStefano, Mezzo Soprano Daniel Chaney, Tenor Michael Lichtenauer, Tenor Matthew Tresler, Tenor Scott Graff, Bass-Baritone Reid Bruton, Bass Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra, Guest Ensemble
1. Domine ad adiuvandum	Claudio Monteverdi
2. Dixit Dominus	Claudio Monteverdi
3. Nigra sum	Claudio Monteverdi
4. Laudate pueri	Claudio Monteverdi
5. Pulchra es	Claudio Monteverdi
6. Laetatus sum	Claudio Monteverdi
7. Duo Seraphim	Claudio Monteverdi
8. Nisi Dominus	Claudio Monteverdi
9. Audi coelum	Claudio Monteverdi
10. Lauda lerusalem	Claudio Monteverdi
11. Sonata sopra 'Sancta Maria ora pro nobis'	Claudio Monteverdi
12. Ave maris stella	Claudio Monteverdi
13. Magnificat	Claudio Monteverdi

Archival Recording

Date	Review	Media	Reviewer
Nov 20, 2012	Monteverdi's sensual, suggestive late Renaissance work is rarely heard. The chorale performs it for the first time and stays true to the complex piece. By Mark Swed, Los Angeles Times Music Critic November 19, 2012, 8:15 p.m. Monteverdi's &q... Read More Monteverdi's sensual, suggestive late Renaissance work is rarely heard. The chorale performs it for the first time and stays true to the complex piece. By Mark Swed, Los Angeles Times Music Critic November 19, 2012, 8:15 p.m. Monteverdi's "Vespers for the Blessed Virgin," which was treated to a rare and exhilarating performance by the Los Angeles Master Chorale on Sunday night at Walt Disney Concert Hall, is a towering masterpiece of the late Renaissance. It had its first performance in 1610 in Santa Barbara. No, not that Santa Barbara but the Palatine basilica of Santa Barbara in Mantua, Italy. Forgotten for three centuries, the "1610 Vespers" (as the work has come to be known) was first revived in Zurich in 1935. But 15 years later in our Santa Barbara, the prominent French composer Darius Milhaud visited the Academy of the West to tell of the wonders of Monteverdi's score. In 1955, Robert Craft finally conducted the West Coast premiere of the "1610 Vespers" at the nearby Ojai Festival, and that was the revival that mattered. Craft put Monteverdi in context of recent work by Stravinsky and Bartók. A transfixed Stravinsky attended all the rehearsals and the performance, as did the writer Aldous Huxley. A very young Marilyn Horne was one of the singers. So was a very young Paul Salamunovich, who would go on to become music director of the Los Angeles Master Chorale from 1991 to 2001. But it was only Sunday that Master Chorale, conducted by Salamunovich's successor, Grant Gershon, finally tackled the 90-minute collection of unbelievably sensual choral psalm settings and shockingly suggestive sacred concertos, concluding with a glorious Magnificat. Members of the period instrument ensemble Musica Angelica formed the small but powerful orchestra. Gershon had the night before conducted Puccini in an idiomatic yet cleanly contemporary style for Los Angeles Opera's new production of "Madame Butterfly." His Monteverdi proved just as admirably true to a 400-year-earlier Italian style and just as admirably contemporary. Best of all, it was just as operatic. These vespers made for a busy evening. Each of the seven choral numbers and the Magnificat required a different configuration, and the 40 singers were constantly on the move. The eight soloists for the song settings were drawn from the chorus and were excellent. Tenor Daniel Chaney was a standout, if an overly demonstrative one. The sopranos Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk provided notable grace. Gershon took advantage of Disney Hall to occasionally place singers in different locations for echo effects and the like. Early music practice was practiced. The soloists ornamented the lines, some elaborately. There are different theories about what kinds of instruments Monteverdi might have used. Musica Angelica contributed a string quartet, a pair of large lutes, a small portable organ and half a dozen brass (the valveless cornets were dazzling). I subscribe to inclusion of woodwinds, but you can't have everything. The complexity of Monteverdi's choral setting can take your breath away, especially when ricocheting rhythmic lines coming in and out of phase with the modernity of a 17th century Steve Reich. But what is most impressive about the "1610 Vespers," and certainly what was most impressive to Stravinsky and Huxley, was the way Monteverdi combined the newest styles of modern text setting that was the force behind the then brand new medium of opera with the more conventional Renaissance sacred music. Monteverdi juxtaposed, rather than combined, old and new, so that one would illuminate the other. Every moment that goes by is a moment in which the composer tries out something new. There are no compromises, the way many so-called eclectic young composers do these days, mushing together styles or finding common ground with a backbeat. Here is music in which old and new remain old and new, respectfully. That is what Stravinsky took away from "1610 Vespers," and that happened to be what made his late, L.A. music so movingly severe and voluptuous at the same time. Gershon followed just such a Stravinskian path in a performance where being sexy and sacred did not result in someone being stoned, a performance suitable for the church and the theater and club. Public life is rarely like that anymore in our divisive culture. But the Master Chorale revealed how these 400-year-old Vespers remain vestiges of a better third way. Read Less	Los Angeles Times	Mark Swed
Nov 19, 2012	A very large, almost sold out Walt Disney Concert Hall audience heaped enthusiastic applause and approval on Maestro Grant Gershon and his fellow artists at the conclusion of Claudio Monteverdi’s sprawling Vespers, described in Thomas May’s excellent program annotations as &l... Read More A very large, almost sold out Walt Disney Concert Hall audience heaped enthusiastic applause and approval on Maestro Grant Gershon and his fellow artists at the conclusion of Claudio Monteverdi’s sprawling Vespers, described in Thomas May’s excellent program annotations as “a diverse, flexible collection of numbers available to be excerpted or performed in various contexts. This diversity was in any case surely meant to display the full range of Monteverdi’s compositional prowess.” Monteverdi lived at a most interesting time for any composer: at the end of the long Renaissance period in which unmetered music was the rule, mostly in the sacred context, which was challenged by the metered secular madrigals that the composer wrote in his earliest years, a collision of styles that drew criticism down upon his head. Publication of the Vespers, also known as Vespro della Beata Vergine, was his answer to the critics. Although published in 1610, elements of the Vespers were probably written over a ten-year span prior to that year. There are 13 movements, most of which may be performed independently of the others, but which are largely comprised of Psalm settings interspersed by highly florid solos, duets and smaller ensembles that allow for individual vocal fireworks, some of which are credited to Monteverdi’s own creativity and not carried over into the newly emerging, dryer early Baroque style, and some of which were. It is said that ladies of Ferrara and Mantua vied with each other to produce the most astounding vocal displays. Such displays were generously performed by several soloists drawn from the ranks of the Master Chorale itself. They were sopranos Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk; mezzo soprano Janelle DeStefano; tenors Daniel Chaney, Michael Lichtenauer and Matthew Tresler; baritone Scott Graff, and bass Reid Bruton. All were excellent advocates of Monteverdian style points, with Ms. Fedoruk and Mr. Chaney meeting the greatest challenges. Mr. Tresler’s “Nigra sum” was perhaps the most memorable for artistic shading matched to the text. The duet-cum-trio “Duo Seraphim” (Two Angels) begun by Messrs. Cheney and Lichtenauer (previously incorrectly identified as Mr. Graff), later with the addition of Mr. Tresler when the text changes to “Tres sunt” (There are three), made magic. A personal favorite was the Marian antiphon “Ave maris stella” (Hail, Star of the Sea) brilliantly worked out by Maestro Gershon, starting with an a cappella first stanza, adding to that a solo theorbo accompaniment on the second stanza, joined in the third by the continuo, the next three stanzas sung by Ms. DeStefano, Ms. Fedoruk and Mr. Graff, with all forces combining at the conclusion. Throughout, the Master Chorale sang with expected brilliance, although for this occasion, a “small call” of 40 voices was employed. In the early 17^th century, so far as we know, this music was never performed in a venue the size of Disney Hall, so one can forgive Ms. Fedoruk’s having to choose between projecting to the topmost balcony and singing the delicate filigree to which her voice is so well suited. Her artistry was never in question although not every lower note could be heard. Maybe it was Maestro Gershon’s intimate association with Los Angeles Opera, where he presides as chorus director, that predisposed a constant movement on stage, but Chorale members were given a virtual road map of stage placements, which humorously led to Mr. Chaney’s forgetting which side he was to be on, and his tip-toeing across to the other side, to the audience’s great amusement. He was not alone in losing focus on placement, by the way. No matter. The singing was always superb. Los Angeles’s own world class Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra accompanied, with an equally small-sized component of 13 players, of whom Ingrid Matthews and Janet Strauss impressed greatly with their embellished violin interludes in various movements, but particularly in the Sonata sopra: Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis. Maestro Gershon kept a perfect balance between instruments and voices throughout, which is not an easy task in a series of movements constantly shifting participants. The long, sustained applause at concert’s end endorsed Maestro Gershon’s choice of the Vespers, and the utterly musical product that resulted. Read Less	LA Opus	Douglas Neslund
Nov 18, 2012	On Sunday, Nov. 18th, 2012, at The Walt Disney Hall, the LA Master Chorale under the baton of Grant Gershon along with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra gave a superb performance of religious music, Vespers 1610, written over 500 years ago by Claudio Monteverdi. <... Read More On Sunday, Nov. 18th, 2012, at The Walt Disney Hall, the LA Master Chorale under the baton of Grant Gershon along with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra gave a superb performance of religious music, Vespers 1610, written over 500 years ago by Claudio Monteverdi. The audience, in the almost sold out house sat without intermission, to hear this rarely performed work by the great Renaissance composer and inventor of the opera form. Monteverdi's Vespers 1610 is a collection of 13 religious pieces sung in Latin. The work includes solos, duets, trios, antiphonal choral parts, and dances. Conducting with elegant verve, Grant Gershon lead 40 of his singers from the Chorale in a masterful 80 minute concert along with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra, that brought new life to Monteverdi's work. Grant Gershon, who also conducts the LA Opera Chorus, as well as conducting LA Opera's new production of Madame Butterfly this week, showed he is no stranger to the special intricacies of early music. Equally at home in this specialized music were his singers. Especially effective was his use of the stage creating an atmosphere recalling a large Renaissance Church with it's lofts and balconies. He moved his singers into fluid positions with each number, including antiphonal groupings, off-stage locations, and different instrumental placements in the hall, to enhance the acoustical effects and compositional structures in Monteverdi's music. In another departure from a formal concert presentation, Gershon took a pause after the first two numbers, and spoke to the audience about this unusual work, written during a difficult time in Monteverdi's life. At other times, when the soloists sang alone accompanied by the instrumentalists, he relaxed in a jazz-like style, took a seat and listened to the soloists, without conducting. Consistent throughout the evening however, were the expressive and supple voices of the 40 members of his LA Master Chorale, admirably accompanied by the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra, who performed Monteverdi's music with delicate fire. This small orchestra of 13 players played period instruments that featured a warmer and more mellow timbre than is heard from our modern instruments. Particularly pleasing were the warm timbres of the cornettos made of wood (sounding like a trumpet) and the Sackbut (a kind of sliding trombone/trumpet). The other instruments were: violins, cello, violone (smaller cello), archlute, theorbo, (two types of lutes) and the portatif organ (a kind of portable organ). Monteverdi's dramatic and at times playful rendering of the sacred text of various psalms and hymns, employed florid runs, trills and trillos, dance like rhythms, and languid legatos that demanded of the singers exceptional breath control and articulation. The eight soloists - Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk sopranos; Janelle DeStefano, mezzo-soprano; Daniel Chaney, Michael Lichtenauer and Matthew Tresler, tenors; Scott Graff, baritone, and Reid Bruton, bass, all performed with ease and keen musicality. Three soloists, however, were standouts. Clair Fedoruk, soprano, shone with a special grace. She used her rather small voice with its exquisite timbre, vibrato and diction, to deliver Monteverdi's music with great charm of expression. Daniel Chaney, tenor, who in the beginning numbers at times sounded rather pinched and nasal in tone, sang with great dramatic effect and at times baritonal warmth, in his extended solo of the 9th number, Audi Coelum (a hymn to Mother Mary). He was excellently partnered by the tenor voice of Michael Lichtenauer, who sang high up overlooking the stage where the grand Organ is, echoing his partner below. His beautiful and perfectly placed tenor was a pleasure to hear. At the conclusion of this memorable 80 minute performance, many in the audience stood up in appreciation, amidst bravos and sustained applause. FOR MORE INFORMATION ABOUT LA MASTER CHORALE'S 2012-2013 SEASON: www.http://www.lamc.org Read Less	Examiner.com	Ahdda Shur
Nov 28, 2012	Los Angeles today might not be the first place that comes to mind when seeking out hymns to the Blessed Virgin Mary. However, a recent concert on Sunday, November 18, at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, featuring Monteverdi’s Vespers (Ve... Read More Los Angeles today might not be the first place that comes to mind when seeking out hymns to the Blessed Virgin Mary. However, a recent concert on Sunday, November 18, at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, featuring Monteverdi’s Vespers (Vespro della Beata Vergine) of 1610, was not the first time that this city has lived up to its literal name. I recall my discovery several years ago of one of the most beautiful versions of the Ave Maria composed since Schubert. It was written by Los Angeles composer Morton Lauridsen, with whom I’ve since become acquainted. When I asked Lauridsen, a Protestant, about this radiant a cappella motet, so suffused with love for Mary, he responded, “I don’t have to belong to the Catholic Church to be in love with Mary.” The recent concert I attended brought this to mind for a reason. The Vespers were performed with outstanding vocal purity by the Los Angeles Master Chorale. It is this same group that premiered the Ave Maria, which, in fact, was composed in honor of Paul Salamunovich, its director at the time. These forces made the world premiere recording on the RCM label (9705). Several weeks ago, I was absolutely floored when I received a UPS tube from Lauridsen, because it contained the original manuscript sketch of the opening measures of Ave Maria, given to me because the composer knows how much I love the music. Needless to say, the preciousness of this gift went straight through my heart. My expectations for the performance of the Vespers were high because of my prior acquaintance with the LA Master Chorale through both the Lauridsen recording and its performances of the wonderful Te Deum by Dominick Argento and Maurice Durufle’s Messe “Cum Jubilo,” also for the RCM label. My expectations were easily met by the Chorale, now under the baton of Grant Gershon, along with the Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra. First some words about the extraordinary Vespers. Monteverdi was not primarily known for religious or liturgical music, but rather for his secular motets, madrigals and operas. Why he wrote the Vespers is a matter of speculation. Some think it was a job résumé, which he intended to help him escape the court of Mantua for a more favorable and lucrative locale. In any case, it seemed to work, as he was offered a place at St. Mark’s in Venice, where he served as maestro di cappella for the rest of his long career, which ended with his death in 1643. Monteverdi’s Vespers are in the tradition of the sung evening service for feasts of the Virgin Mary. For this, he gave choral settings to five psalms (Dixit Dominus [6-part choir], Laudate pueri [8-part choir], Laetatus sum [6-part choir], Nisi Dominus [10-part choir], and Lauda Ierusalem [7-part choir]), followed by the Marian hymn, Ave Maris Stella, and a setting of the Magnificat, which closes the work. Between the psalms, Monteverdi inserted five “sacred concertos,” a sequence of motets for a gradually increasing number of solo voices, with continuo accompaniment—the last one, an exuberant Sonata Sopra ‘Sancta Maria ora pro nobis’, with an extensive instrumental introduction, followed by the full chorus. It is unclear whether Monteverdi expected the Vespers to be performed all together, or only in parts. Nonetheless, it has become the custom to play the whole piece together, which takes about an hour and a half. Much to the credit of the LA Master Chorale, the Vespers were played without intermission. The singing was thrilling, from the first entry by the tenor at Deus in adiutorium meum intende, followed by the resplendent full chorus and orchestra, till the closing, magnificent Magnificat. The eight soloists, drawn from the 40-member Chorale, were all outstanding, especially tenors Daniel Chaney, Michael Lichtenaurer, and Matthew Tresler, and sopranos Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk. Tresler’s solo in Nigra Sum was tender and exquisitely delicate. In the Duo Seraphim, the piece was begun by Michael Lichtenauer and Chaney in a brilliant evocation of the text describing “two Seraphim … calling one to the other,” as they sang antiphonally back and forth until, when the Holy Spirit enters, they were appropriately joined by the third tenor, Tresler. The singing and the effect were simply superb. Though this “sacred concerto” only lasts about four minutes, it was one of the highlights of the evening. These first two tenors again created an excellent impression in the next “sacred concerto,” Audi coelam. Chaney sang downstage, praying to heaven, while Tresler, placed above in the organ loft, sang the heavenly answers to the prayers. Visually and dramatically this worked stunningly well. The last “sacred concerto,” Sonata Sopra ‘Sancta Maria ora pro nobis,’ after an orchestral introduction, contains a very lovely violin duo that was well played by Ingrid Mathews and Janet Strauss. When the full chorus joined in, the effect was inspiriting. With my comments on the soloists, in fact, I may seem to be neglecting the chorus, for which no praise could be too high. Not only was the singing spot on throughout, but it was infused with spirit or, I might even say, soul. This was no where more evident than in Ave Maris Stella and the splendidly sung Magnificat. I have two niggles. Music director Grant Gershon, who otherwise did such a magnificent job, turned to address the audience after the first Psalm in order to explain the music to us. I think this was a mistake. He was simply extemporizing what was already in the program notes. By breaking through the fourth wall, by violating the dramatic space between his performers and the audience, some of the mystique of the Vespers evaporated. It was after the spell was broken that the audience felt free to applaud after each number, which again interrupted the atmosphere. Unfortunately, Gershon made another interpolation after the last Psalm. I was also given intermittent pause by the Musica Angelica, its 13 members playing on original instruments. I found that when the members of this Baroque orchestra were individually accompanying the singers, everything was generally fine. In fact, the string and lute players seemed particularly fine. However, when playing as an ensemble, they occasionally sounded slightly out of sync and not quite in tune. I do not know if Cornettos and Sackbuts are particularly unwieldy brass instruments, but they certainly sounded unwieldy. However, I often find the sound of original instruments faintly ridiculous, so I may be prejudiced in this area—one in which I admit to no expertise. I note that other reviewers (LA Times, Examiner.com) were thrilled, but I have to trust my ears on this one. Monteverdi was renowned in his time for his highly expressive vocal style. What about for our time? Does it still convey? The answer from the Walt Disney Concert Hall is that, when sung as splendidly as it was by the LA Master Chorale—yes, the Vespers are for our time or any other. There is something timeless about music like this, which is the whole idea. It is also clear from this great composition that Monteverdi was every bit as much in love with Mary, as is Morton Lauridsen. It is quite a coincidence that the loves of these two composers have been so effectively communicated by the same performers. Or perhaps, as unexpected as it might be—could this be something about the City of Angels? Read Less	Crisis Magazine	Robert R. Reilly
Nov 30, 2012	After Los Angeles Master Chorale's (LAMC) astoundingly successful performance of Claudio Monteverdi's Vespers of the Blessed Virgin (commonly known as the Vespers of 1610, having been published in that year), I felt the same rejuvenation and relaxation that would follow a lu... Read More After Los Angeles Master Chorale's (LAMC) astoundingly successful performance of Claudio Monteverdi's Vespers of the Blessed Virgin (commonly known as the Vespers of 1610, having been published in that year), I felt the same rejuvenation and relaxation that would follow a luxuriant all-day health spa retreat. Having never heard the revolutionary and monumental work before, I was astonished that something written in the last decade of Shakespeare's life could be so sensual. The texts may be sacred, but much of the composition clearly makes use of secular music — most notably dance; hence, my relaxation from the appropriate solemnity, and my rejuvenation from the modes of music, including Gregorian chant (aka plainsong or plainchant), Renaissance dance, madrigal, and opera (notably, the first opera still to be regularly performed is Monteverdi's L'Orfeo, composed for the court of Mantua in 1607). The 90-minute Vespers, written for choir, soloists and orchestra, has been recorded and performed in various ways, from scaled-down versions, with soloists as the choir, to monumental, with giant orchestras. At Walt Disney Concert Hall, LAMC joined forces with Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra, which employed period instruments, to present a "historically informed" performance featuring 40 singers from the Chorale, including soloists Suzanne Anderson and Claire Fedoruk (Sopranos), Janelle DeStefano (Mezzo-Soprano), and Matthew Tresler, Daniel Chaney, and Michael Lichtenauer (Tenors). The Chorale handled Monteverdi's complexities and cross-rhythms with a rich life-force befitting one of the world's greatest singing groups. The orchestra included a string quartet, an enormous lute (which I believe is called a theorbo), a rather petite moveable organ, and six brasses, which include the cornetto (valveless cornet) and sackbut (medieval form of the trombone). While I certainly appreciate the historical integrity, the orchestra was occasionally lost amid the sumptuous power of the chorus. While I have some issues with the unusual blend of the instruments (the organ was practically indistinct), the exquisiteness of Musica Angelica cannot be denied. Still, some of the instruments not only looked cumbersome but sounded a bit unwieldy as well. While they no doubt contributed to the drama of the fully-realized spectacle, and the ear does become accustomed to the accompaniment, I longed for a more a more resounding and dramatic instrumental interpretation. The Vespers' individual sections require various arrangements of the performers, so Music Director Grant Gershon, who led with vitality, made ample use of the space by splitting or seating the chorus, and when two tenor soloists sang a call and response during the "Audi coelom" motet, Gershon placed Chaney downstage and Tresler above the stage alongside a cellist in the loft of the Hall's colossal organ, creating a delightful echo effect. At one point, soloist Daniel Chaney inadvertently interrupted the gravity of the event when trying to remember his place on stage — Chaney was quite effusive in his execution, which occasionally was borderline comical and mildly distracting, but his combination of strength, sweetness and expressiveness in voice made him the standout soloist of the evening. In a strange but endearing way, Chaney mirrored the novel compositional and theatrical techniques employed by Monteverdi. Ms. Anderson and Ms. Fedoruk sang with uncommon clarity and grace, and I loved the way in which Mr. Tresler tenderly and delicately caressed his grace notes during his solo, "Nigra Sum." Monteverdi helped lay the foundation for the stylistic conventions of the Baroque period, which extended approximately from 1600 — ten years before the Vespers was writtenÂÂ—to 1750, the year of Bach's death (and one year after he completed his B Minor Mass). Not only are Monteverdi and Bach bookends to the Baroque era, in which composers used more intricate and extravagant musical ornamentation, but many scholars hold the 90-minute Vespers as the greatest work of sacred music prior to Bach's Mass. There was no intermission, but Mr. Gershon took a break at one point to inform the near-capacity audience that, presumably, Monteverdi intended this daunting collection to be something of a calling card to advertise himself as a master of sacred music — a sort of audition to land a job with the Pope (Monteverdi did get an appointment as maestro di cappella at St Mark's Basilica in Venice in 1613, but Rome never offered a post). Whatever his motivations, the spiritually uplifting musical forms based on Biblical texts — including psalms, motets, a traditional hymn, a sonata, and a superb Magnificat — contain such a startling inventiveness and diversity that it almost seems criminal the ambitious work fell into obscurity for over 300 years. LAMC is to be commended for illuminating the relevancy of the work, which, by interpolating the "old" and the "new" of its time, has become a composition for the ages. Los Angeles Master Chorale with Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra Monteverdi's Vespers of 1610 played Walt Disney Concert Hall on November 18, 2012 for future LAMC shows, call 213-972-7282 or visit http://www.lamc.org Read Less	Stage and Cimena	Tony Frankel
Dec 12, 2012	Downtown L.A. is certainly an epicenter for 21st century hustle and bustle. But inside of the Walt Disney Concert Hall, with its futuristic façade, one can find an acoustical oasis from the dissonant sounds of traffic, construction, boom boxes and the like, far from the madding c... Read More Downtown L.A. is certainly an epicenter for 21st century hustle and bustle. But inside of the Walt Disney Concert Hall, with its futuristic façade, one can find an acoustical oasis from the dissonant sounds of traffic, construction, boom boxes and the like, far from the madding crowd. To paraphrase Max Ehrmann's splendiferous poem, Desiderata, within this vestibule of a more genteel culture one can "Flow placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in sacred music." With its performance of four-century-old vocal and instrumental compositions, the Concert Hall became a sort of time machine on November 18, as the Los Angeles Master Chorale and Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra presented the Italian composer Claudio Monteverdi's seldom played 1610 Vespers of the Blessed Virgin. Vespers is a form of religious music derived from Catholic prayers and Monteverdi's scarcely heard hymns were serenely sung by the aptly named Master Chorale's 40-ish sopranos, altos, tenors and basses, stylishly clad in gowns and tuxedos, conducted by music director Grant Gershon. Eight soloists alternated with groups of singers, males with females, moving on and off the stage and around the interior of the Disney, even climbing up beside the organ in the nosebleed seats, as if to be closer to the god they were praising in Latin. (The Vespers' texts were translated in Performances Magazine, a program guide given to each ticket buyer.) The Chorale was accompanied by the Orchestra, which likewise varied in size over the course of the 90-ish minute Vespers, ranging up to 13 musicians. The baroque band leaned towards the strings, with two violinists, a violone-ist and a cello-ist, and most intriguingly and entrancingly for one accustomed to 21st century instrumentation, an arch-lute and a theorbo, played by John Schneiderman and Daniel Zuluaga. The latter two are long necked plucked stringed instruments; with their round deep backs, lutes were all the rage during the Renaissance, while theorbos were popularized in the late 16th century. Musica Angelica Baroque Orchestra also includes a portative organ (Ian Pritchard tickled the proverbial ivories) and a brass section consisting of three cornetto plus three sackbut players. The latter is a Renaissance/Baroque era trombone with a telescopic slide that allows for a more chromatic range of notes. The combination of the Chorale and Orchestra produced a mellifluous, transcendent, soaring, sublime sound. The tranquil tonalities and harmonies transported one's soul either back in time, before modernism's harsh sound and fury, or even towards the heavens. Mezzo Soprano Janelle DeStafano's solos were particularly lovely. Indeed, the music's delicate beauty made one feel that the "house of the lord" they sang about was right there in the Concert Hall Â— that is, if one believes music is the laughter of the lord. Interestingly, some of the Vespers' lyrics are sexually suggestive. For instance, in Nigra Sum the sensuous words translate as: "I am a black but beautiful daughter of Jerusalem, So the king loved me and led me into his bedroom and said to me: ‘Arise, my love, and come away… the time of pruning has come.'" Well, who's to say what's sacred and what's profane? No "ifs," "ands" or "buts" about it: How splendid to hear this all too rare rendition, with sackbuts, a lute and theorbo played about 400 years after their heydays, long after heavy metal rockers and hip-hoppers have replaced strolling minstrels and troubadours. As Desiderata counsels: "Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit." These age old instruments, along with Monteverdi, still offer repose and solace in order to soothe the seething souls of our high anxiety age. DeStefano returns with the Los Angeles Master Chorale, conducted by Music Director Grant Gershon, to perform another holiday season program entitled Rejoice! that includes the complete 1723 version of Johann Sebastian Bach's Magnificat and Antonio Vivaldi's Gloria. Bach's motet Lobet den Herrn, alle Heiden opens the performance. Gershon and KUSC host Alan Chapman participate in ListenUp!, the pre-concert talk ,at 6:00 p.m., free to ticketholders, followed by the program on: Sunday, December 16, 2012, at 7:00 p.m. at Walt Disney Concert Hall, 111 South Grand Avenue at First Street in downtown Los Angeles. For information: (213) 972-7282. Read Less	Hollywood Progressive	Ed Rampell

Monteverdi Vespers

Monteverdi's Ingenious Synthesis in the Vespers of 1610

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Monteverdi's Ingenious Synthesis in the Vespers of 1610

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Monteverdi Vespers

Monteverdi's Ingenious Synthesis in the Vespers of 1610

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Monteverdi's Ingenious Synthesis in the Vespers of 1610

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