Bruckner Em Mass: Chorvereinigung St Augustin – Vienna 16/11/08 (in English)

[Choo Choo]

Timings: 6:38, 6:13, 9:15, 2.51, 5:23, 6:30

An enthusiasm for the E minor Mass is a sign of such obvious good character, I have often thought it should be officially recognised as an admissible defence in a court of law. Like the finest malt whisky, what the E minor Mass contains is pure and unadulterated, concentrated essence of Bruckner – which, like many a fine malt, can be an acquired taste, but one which more than repays the effort. This is one of those remarkable early works (the roughly contemporary Nullte being another) which manages, within its modest dimensions, to seem to span not only the entire range of Bruckner’s output, but whole centuries of musical development besides. Just one of its short sections can take you effortlessly from the 16th century polyphony of Palestrina’s Missa Brevis through to the startling chromaticism of Stravinsky’s 1948 Mass and beyond – and on the way, beguile you with such pleasing and complex harmonies that the whole process comes to seem entirely natural, if not inevitable.

The E minor Mass is fortunate in having attracted enthusiasts also when it comes to recordings, as a result of which there are none I know that are really bad, and most that are readily available are excellent. My personal favourite is Herreweghe, for the power and the clarity, but Rilling, Rögner, Creed, Best and Layton come to mind as equally recommendable – as is Jochum’s classic account, if you don’t mind the somewhat more stately tempos.

Opportunities to hear the work performed live, however, tend to be limited. Unlike the larger-scale D minor and F minor Masses, which find a ready place on the concert platform, the E minor was commissioned originally for unaccompanied choir, whose eight vocal parts Bruckner augmented with a small band of wind instruments. The end result is every bit as demanding of its performers, if not more so, requiring a first-class ensemble to do it justice. It can occasionally be heard in recital – but far and away the best context in which to hear it is as intended, as part of the Catholic liturgy, its six short sections serving to frame and punctuate an hour and more’s act of worship.

Which is why, on a bracing Sunday morning in November, we wedged ourselves into a front pew in the packed Jesuitenkirche. If you are going to hear a sung mass – not just the E minor, but any mass – presented properly in a liturgical setting, then this is one of the best places to come for it. The Chorvereinigung St Augustin – not to be confused with the choir of the Augustinerkirche in the Hofburg Palace (from which, I am told, they split some years ago amid rumours of intrigue) – have a longstanding reputation in the repertoire of sung masses which would be exceptional for any group, let alone one entirely composed of amateurs and supported only by voluntary contributions. Week after week they turn in first class performances of one demanding work after another. Last week it was the Haydn Nicolaimesse, next it will be Michael Haydn’s Missa in tempora Adventus et Quadragesimae, then Schubert, Mozart, Hassler. But today – and one of the reasons for being in Vienna this week – the Bruckner E minor.

This is one of those works for which, within certain broad limits, timings do not tell much of a story, and all you can readily deduce from the figures above is that the performance was neither exceptionally rapid nor excessively slow. One slightly unusual feature was a more measured treatment of the Agnus Dei, which personally I found welcome, as creating an even symmetry with the opening Kyrie. Also notable was the delivery of the plainchant openings to the Gloria and Credo, which usually are given either to a single cantor or else omitted entirely: here (as on e.g. the Gillesberger disk) they were sung in unison by the whole tenor section, which also works well. For the rest, this was a wholly admirable – exemplary, in fact – performance, with superb dynamics, control and clarity, and overall a level of vocal accomplishment surpassing even that on the choir’s 1996 concert recording. The direction by Andreas Pixner showed a thorough comprehension of the work and expertise in deploying his forces.

Imperfections were few, and matters of fine detail at most. This Mass imposes similar demands on the choir – particularly the alto and soprano sections – as the horns in the 4th Symphony: the requirement, from a standing start, unaccompanied, to hit a note – clearly – and hold it, shape it, sustain it, modulate it – then do it again – and again. This requires much practice and total confidence, and it is unrealistic to expect an amateur ensemble, that has had at most a few hours of rehearsal since its last outing in a different work, to attain the last degree of perfection in this. Once or twice a slight hesitation was (just about) detectable in the initial attack – but there was no wavering in the sustain, which time after time sent the vocal lines soaring in the resonant acoustic.

In the same way, any departures from the ideal in the otherwise flawless instrumental playing amounted to no more than nuances of interpretation. The sinuous oboe line starting after Qui tollis peccata mundi in the Gloria, for example, can be more affecting when given a more liquid articulation, and likewise the brass notes at et iterum venturus est cum gloria in the Credo can use a crisper attack to shape a kind of rounded-off staccato. On this occasion, in both cases, the execution was more even and uninflected – and generally you could say that, in places, the range of expression was slightly more muted than it can be. Better too little than too much, however – and it should also be pointed out that the instrumentalists were playing, and the choir singing, in their overcoats, due to the usual practice of leaving the church doors open to the University Square: the penetrating draught that blows through in consequence was quite enough to chill this listener, to say nothing of its likely effect on the players.

By any rational measure, then, this was a great performance of a seminal Bruckner work. And gratifying, too, in the way that – as is usual in the Jesuitenkirche – the music was not just grafted on to the service but made part of its fabric: for as long as it lasted, all who were present dwelled within a world created by Bruckner’s music. Indeed the whole service was soaked in Bruckner – the collection was accompanied by the motet Christus factus est – and even the homily, based on the Parable of the Talents, drew on Bruckner’s life story for illustration: his humble beginnings – his persistence despite setbacks – his troubles with Hanslick – even an account of the Brahms/Wagner divide. That’s something else you get in the Jesuitenkirche: a whole different class of sermon. It may not have the austere grandeur of the Augustinerkirche, and its domes and cupolas may be no more than cleverly framed trompe l’oeuil paint effects, but it is still a beautiful original Baroque building, with a lively and clear acoustic, where all year round, except for a few weeks in mid-summer, you can hear singing that’s the equal of anything to be found in Vienna.