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Editor's Choice

"Gloriously pompous" says Marc Rochester of the fanfare that opens Poulenc's Gloria. He's quite right, of course, but also right in pointing out that it is absolutely electric.  And that goes for much of this terrific album.  When the massed forces of Polyphony, the Britten Sinfonia and the Trinity College Choir ring out at full strength, the sound is simply incredible.

From the very outset of the Gloria it's clear that this is a performance of real distinction.  The gloriously pompous opening orchestral fanfare has a stagger and self-satisfied strut which is one of those rare moments on disc when you with that it were tracked separately so that you could just play it over and over again.  But to do that would miss the scintillating choral entry, the basses starting the ball rolling with the kind of pent-up energy which you just know is going to explode in the most spectacular way. Other recordings - I think particularly of the Cambridge Singers (Collegium) - have a pleasant smiley quality here; Stephen Layton's crew has an almost piratical swagger buoyantly breasting Poulenc's turbulent waves of barely restrained exuberance.

The 38 voices of Polyphony are augmented by 31 from Trinity College Cambridge, while an unusually hefty contingent of orchestral players makes up the Britten Sinfonia on the disc.  What results is not only music-making of immense power and vibrancy - take the riveting declamation "Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris", hardly subtle or even particularly refined (the men shout and the brass blares) but unbelievably spine-tingling - but also an ability, brilliantly directed by Layton, to capture Poulenc's "half hooligan half monk" musical persona (in Claude Rostand's oft-quoted aphorism).  Thus, in the final chorus of the Gloria, after the boisterous start, we have a moment of profound sanctity and another, crowned with credible delicacy by Susan Gritton, of mouth-watering enchantment.  I'd happily end my days on a desert island with this track alone.

Not everything is quite so enticing: Gritton wallows a little too much in the "Domine Deus", mischievously abetted by Layton's almost kitsch romanticism.  But it is the vivid sense of unfettered joy in the Gloria and the matchless intensity of feeling revealed in the motets that make this such a gloriously distinguished disc.

Poulenc’s Catholic faith is much written about.  The familiar contradictions in his character, the saint versus the sinner, somehow served to ignite a flame in his music – it’s as if the musical realization of ecstasy tinged with terror acted as a catalyst to inspire some of Poulenc’s most exquisite music.  In performance, it demands utter conviction – and anyone who has ever tried will also know that it is knotty stuff to sing.  The harmonies seem to slide away underneath you, easily leading to (at best) momentary uncertainty of intonation as each unexpected but magical progression reaches some new region of intensity.  You want to curse him for letting his composing hands wander in seemingly random experimentation over his keyboard, even as you realise that his secure ear and vivid imagination were actually…glorious. 

The Gloria is just that.  Especially when, as here, it radiates a kind of blazing intensity second to none.  Quite how Stephen Layton gets the singers of his hand-picked choir Polyphony to generate such white heat in a draughty North London church on a wet mid-week morning I do not know, but he does.  Listen, for instance, to the start of the Gloria’s final section, ‘Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris’ – you could almost burn your fingers at the lacerating force with which the power of God the Father is invoked.  The choral attack is laser-like, the rhythmic drive and energy exhilarating.  This Gloria is recorded throughout with wonderful vocal and instrumental clarity and definition: precision of ensemble and intonation is absolute, the sound spellbinding – the dynamic range is breathtaking, but the recording has no trouble coping.  It’s an exhilarating listen; and on top of all that, Layton’s chosen soloist is a joy, too.  Susan Gritton soars ethereally above the stave in the two ‘Domine Deus’ movements, her sweetness of tone and so-discreet portamento ideal for Poulenc: never lush, never coy, never operatic. 

The Gloria occupies some 24 of the 55 minutes of music on this disc.  I should warn you that there is no let-up in intensity once the admirable Britten Sinfonia has disappeared and Polyphony is left on its own: indeed, though I hardly dare to say so, I even thought that once or twice it was overdoing it, with (for a second or three) individual voices coming out of the choral texture when they shouldn’t.  The last item on the CD, Exultate Deo, is, well, exultant almost to an extreme.  Far better that, though, than any hint of primness: the music surely demands the almost over-the-top spirit that I think I detect everywhere here: a spirit that even seeps into the booklet notes once or twice too!  The more sombre mood of the four unaccompanied Lenten motets is superbly caught: the effect in, for instance, the wonderful ‘Vinea mea electa’ is almost heart-rending, a powerful but despairing cry from the heart. 

There have been various fine versions of the Gloria over the years, from the creamy Boston version under Ozawa to a resonant Chandos issue under an understanding French conductor.  There are also various older versions hidden away in multi-part sets, including a Duitoit box on Decca and the Poulenc centenary album listed above.  I doubt if many of them can hold a candle to this one.  It’s my feeling that Polyphony and Layton are now in prime condition for an assault on that Everest of Poulenc’s choral works, the mighty, the almost impossible, Figure humaine.  I for one can’t wait. 

Fast-living Francis Poulenc had a born-again rush of Catholic piety in his later years, which compelled him to write a body of religious choral works.  The best-known of these, the Gloria, is no sombre act of piety, but full of an innocent, sincere joie de vivre.  A thrilling acoustic captures Layton and his forces revelling in Poulenc's punchy rhythms and pungent harmonies.  Soloist Susan Gritton is sinuous in the Stravinskyian 'Domine Deus' and soaring and ecstatic in the 'Qui Sedes'.  The rest of the disc explores the more contemplative, mother-of-pearl shimmer of Poulenc's unaccompanied motets, and it's all superbly performed.

This is a real treat. Polyphony brings its characteristic incisiveness, precision and evenness of tone to Poulenc's unaccompanied Lenten and Christmas motets, Salve regina and Exultate Deo. But it is the account of the Gloria - Poulenc's monkish habit at its most highly coloured - that makes this a real must-buy.

For this, Polyphony is joined by the Choir of Trinity College, Cambridge, where Stephen Layton presides as director of music, along with the taut playing of the Britten Sinfonia. To cap it all, Susan Gritton sears the heart in her solos, while the church recording gives the whole enterprise a reverent halo.

After a friend died in a car accident in 1936, French composer Francis Poulenc, best known for his boulevardier wit and general joie de vivre, turned steadily towards religion - though as his 1959 setting of the 'Gloria' shows, religion with a sense of humour. Frescoes with angels sticking out their tongues and Benedictine monks playing football inspired this piece, where punchy rhythms mix with melancholia. Conductor Stephen Layton's sentient performance is graced by Susan Gritton's ethereal soprano solos and rounded off with some of Poulenc's more solemn a cappella motets.

Poulenc's riotously wild, spiky and humorous Gloria is given a marvellously fresh interpretation here by Polyphony and the Choir of Trinity College Cambridge, with Susan Gritton a glorious, ethereal presence, floating above the texture like a gossamer-winged angel.  But perhaps the real interest in this disc lies in the more unfamiliar motets. Each is an exquisite example of Poulenc's daring choral writing, handled here by Polyphony with the same subtlety and skill they brought to their Bruckner Hyperion disc last year.

The death of a close friend in a car accident in 1936 turned Poulenc back towards his Roman Catholic roots and, in the remaining three decades of his life, triggered a stream of pieces with religious connotations. These included his final opera, The Dialogue of the Carmelites, and the pieces included on this beautifully produced disc. The best-known work here is the Gloria, from 1959, in which Stephen Layton and his choir do not attempt to disguise the work's debt to Stravinsky, and in which Susan Gritton's soaring soprano adds the finishing touches. Yet in many ways it is the a cappella pieces that prove the more haunting, especially the four Lenten settings in the Quatre Motets Pour un Temps de Pénitence, and the Christmas set of Quatre Motets Pour le Temps de Noel. This collection is all exquisitely done, in a slightly cool and detached English choral tradition way, and also impeccably recorded.

Francis Poulenc’s compositions were known for their color, wit and charm in the 1920s and 1930s. But up to that time he wasn’t taken seriously as a great musician. After all, it was Schoenberg, Stravinsky etc. that were the “serious” radicals of the day. In 1936 a close friend of Poulenc died in a tragic car accident and his works became more spiritually oriented, yet never lost their ‘joie de vivre.’ As Poulenc put it in a 1950 interview with Roland Gelatt: “The French realize that somberness and good humor are not mutually exclusive. Our composers, too, write profound music, but when they do, it is leavened with a lightness of spirit without which life would be unendurable.”

Poulenc became one of the great sacred choral composers of the twentieth century. Gloria (1959) for mixed choir, soprano and orchestra is an example of his mastery of synthesizing a restrained yet joyful ecstasy with twentieth century spikiness. By reducing the forces in this recording, Stephen Layton reveals their dissonance without mitigating their heartfelt religious spirit. The result is a freshness and clarity that sheds new light on this work. Susan Gritton’s soprano voice is thin at times, but soars above the choral forces in a way that emphasizes the work’s ardor. The recording, made in All Hallows Church, Gospel Oak, London, is a perfect combination of immediacy and religious resonance that clarifies the musical forces without lessening ambience. This is a significant and groundbreaking recording of this great work.

Poulenc was also a master composer of songs and the four motets that complete this disc display his lyrical and innovative gifts. Quatre motets pour le temps de penitence is a tender and powerful statement. The choral group Polyphony sings with passion, commitment and startling accuracy. If you aren’t familiar with Poulenc’s choral brilliance, this disc is a perfect place to start.

I was 13 or 14 years old when I first heard Poulenc’s Gloria. Not knowing anything by or about this composer - the programme book for the concert only gave the text of the work and no notes on the composer - I couldn’t understand why this liturgical music was so damned enjoyable. It seemed positively sinful actually to derive delightful pleasure from a setting of these words. Now, only a few years later, knowing much more of Poulenc’s music, and understanding his description of himself as le moine et le voyou (half bad boy, half monk), I simply love being sinful in the presence of this wonderful composer. I know the music to be the man himself.
 
After the death of his friend, composer and critic Pierre-Octave Ferroud, in 1936, Poulenc made a pilgrimage to the ancient shrine of the Black Virgin at Rocamadour, on the banks of the Dordogne river. It seems that here he experienced a spiritual epiphany and, rediscovering his Catholic faith, almost immediately began the series of religious works which cover the whole of the rest of his career.
 
The Quatre motets pour un temps de pénitence is one of the first of this great series of compositions. Poulenc had studied with Charles Koechlin in the early 1920s and his insistence on the study of the music of the renaissance, and baroque counterpoint, start to make itself felt in the music post-Rocamadour. The unaccompanied works are, in general, rather more serious than the Gloria, and these penitential motets are austere, stylistically challenging and not easy to sing, but the depth of the composers’ feelings is always in evidence. This short work is by no means an easy listen but stick with it, it’s superb. By contrast, the Quatre motets pour le temps de Noël, written a decade later, is full of the joy of Christmas. It also contains a wonderful use of “incorrect” accenting of the words Gloria in excelsis Deo creating an ebullient climax and a real festive feeling of happiness. Salve regina and Exultate Deo come from between the two sets, one reflective and one exuberant.
 
But it is the Gloria which is the real treat here. It’s a late work, following the Stabat Mater (1950) and slightly predating the Sept Répons de Ténèbres (1961), full of high spirits and with a great verve and forward momentum. The six movements are woefully short, getting quickly to the heart of the matter, commenting on the words and moving on. Typical Poulenc, never wasting a note or gesture. It’s superbly laid out for chorus and large orchestra with short, but telling, solos for soprano.
 
Stephen Layton is an excellent choral trainer and conductor and he galvanises his performers to give everything in these pieces. The Britten Sinfonia plays like I’ve never heard it play before; strong, forthright and with great purpose. The joint choirs make a joyful noise in the Gloria and Polyphony, alone, present the a cappella works with great enthusiasm and style. Susan Gritton sings her all too short solos magnificently. 
 
This disc has an enormous dynamic range with the biggest fortissimos and the smallest, hushed, pianissimos. The recording captures every note, every phrase, every single nuance with ease. The acoustic of All Hallows Church is perfect for the job.
 
I have always had a soft spot for both Prêtre’s - recorded, if I remember correctly, in the presence of the composer, but a trifle stilted - and Frémaux’s recordings of the Gloria, but this new version must go to the top of the pile for sheer enjoyment value and understanding of the work.
 
This is, then, a success from start to finish with fantastic performances from all concerned, fabulous sound and excellent notes. What more do you need? Don’t sit there reading this, go out and buy it without delay. You won’t be disappointed. 

All things considered, Poulenc's Gloria has fared remarkably well on record, with recent versions by Jansons, Hickox and Tortelier ensuring that the piece has remained a favourite repertoire choice of numerous professional choirs. 

But this new addition to the catalogue, excellently performed and recorded, is none the less welcome for that. Conductor Stephen Layton and his choir Polyphony are joined by soprano Susan Gritton, The Choir of Trinity College, Cambridge and the Britten Sinfonia for the twenty-four-minute piece and then offer four a cappella works to complete a fascinating disc. 

As Meurig Bowen's detailed and elegant liner notes explain, a car accident which decapitated the critic Pierre-Octave Ferroud in the Hungarian town of Debrecen in August 1936 reawakened Poulenc's Catholic faith, long since abandoned from childhood. He went on a pilgrimage to the ancient shrine of the Black Virgin at Rocamadour and, having 'pondered on the fragility of the spirit', the composer spent a large proportion of his remaining three decades writing sacred works. Even his major operatic masterpiece, Dialogues des Carmélites, takes a religious order as its subject matter.  

Yet as the Gloria proves, Poulenc was still inclined to allow the jazzed-up harmonies and compositional procedures of his secular works to infiltrate his religious music. The opening movement, 'Gloria in excelsis Deo', starts with a grand gesture and dotted rhythms reminiscent of a baroque fanfare, here played with crisp precision by the Britten Sinfonia; like Handel in Messiah, Poulenc was not afraid to use worldly splendour to enhance his word-setting. The French composer also shared Handel's inclination to make his music sensuous, even when its message was spiritual: who can resist the long legato lines of the soprano's solo sections in the 'Domine deus, rex caelestis', for instance, especially when sung with such allure by Susan Gritton? The other strength of this piece is the quality of the orchestration, something with which Poulenc often struggled. The 'Domine Deus, agnus Dei' is particularly eerie, with solo flute lines over a murky string accompaniment; the way Poulenc introduces the choir very quietly in block harmonies behind the soprano soloist is again chilling.  

Layton's recording comes very close to perfection and certainly represents one of the 'must-have' CDs of the year so far. The choral forces are highly responsive to his direction, which is highly expressive within the bounds of a pure English sound. The dynamic contrasts are particularly wide, not least in the opening 'Gloria' and the concluding 'Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris'; the swell in the concluding lines of the former and the control during the a cappella passages of the latter are two of many impressive moments. The lightness of delivery in the 'Laudamus te' and the almost ruthless approach to the 'Domine Fili unigenite' (punctuated by ritornelli of the 'Gloria' music in the orchestra) are likewise striking. If I had a criticism, it would be that both the delivery of the text and the timbre of the combined choirs are very English, at the expense of some of the softer colours. But the way the performers relish the work's joie de vivre is compelling, and the performance of the final movement, with its Debussyan orchestration and harmonies, is poignant indeed. 

The remaining performances on the disc are no less exquisite, but because they are all sung a cappella they inevitably have a less immediate impact. Seen as part of Poulenc's development of sacred music, however, they make fascinating couplings to the better-known Gloria. The lovely Quatre motets pour un temps de pénitence were composed between late 1938 and early 1939 and, as Lenten motets, are pertinent listening for this time of year. Amongst four attractive pieces, the Matin Responsories for Holy Saturday and Maundy Thursday, 'Tenebrae factae' and 'Tristis est anima mea', stand out for their imaginative range of vocal effects (almost percussive in the final piece at one point). For my taste the four Christmas motets (Quatre motets pour le temps de Noël), the Salve regina and the Exultate Deo are rather more perfunctory compositions, relying too heavily on the early composers by whom Poulenc was influenced (notably Monteverdi, Palestrina and Gabrieli), but they are well served by Layton and his excellent choir and only seem inferior because of the distinctive works placed around them.