Spirits of the Forest: Prom 9 Janacek, Glagolitic Mass

Photo credit: National Museum of Denmark, detail, the 'Gundestrup Cauldron'; created some time in the first or second century BC in what is now south-west Romania or north-west Bulgaria.


At the age of fifteen, it seems, Janacek joined  a pilgrimage of 40, 000 people to sing in the open air in honour of St Cyril.  That's about seven times the number you get in the Albert Hall for the last night lustily singing 'Jerusalem'; one imagines those 40,000 sang very lustily indeed.

It must have been as impressive and memorable to a young Janacek as a couple of days at Glastonbury would be to a teenager now, though possibly without any naked mud baths (but you never know how the Spirit takes some people) and bearing in mind the Glastonbury crowd, as far as I know, doesn't go much for mass community singing.

How I got the impression they were singing hymns in a forest, I can't really say, but if there was an imaginary locus in which to place Gergiev and the LSO orchestra and chorus for Janacek's Glagolitic Mass that is what it had to be. The musical spirits of this forest were far more pagan than Christian; more hamadryad than holy, to be fended off with loud and enthusiastic singing. As much, perhaps, out of the strength the fear of dark places, uncertainly tamed or exorcised, gives you as religious commitment.

Certainly, that is how the splendidly vehement and vigorous LSO Chorus sounded. And, whether it was spirits or beasts of the forest that were to be kept at bay by sheer volume of sound and energy, Gergiev's Maryinsky soloists (not to mention the Albert Hall organ) weren't lacking either.

As we all know, time has its own gearbox. (If you live in London as I do, it seldom seems to get out of third or fourth. In a small village in France I visit often, it hardly ever seems to get out of first.) I had the distinct impression that Gergiev was rather forcing the pace. Checking the timings, though, he can't have been. He just had a highly-tuned machine, obviously.

The initial intrada did sound almost frenetic, not to say fierce. but, whether it was the reconstructed score, or Gergiev, there was a majestic and commanding orchestral tonal colour from the start, modulated by an almost surprisingly pastoral folk-iness at the appropriate moments.

I noticed that a Guardian reader was put out by the score for this performance being referred to as a 'reconstruction', whereas it might properly be called a 'reversion' to the original. (The 2011 Prom—BBC SO/ and Chorus//Jiří Bělohlávek—to which the reader refers, and insists was preferable by far, however, was also a 'reconstruction') This is a useful short guide to Paul Wingfield's edition:

The main differences between the two versions are as follows: the original reinstates the Intrada movement at the beginning of the mass as well as in its usual place at the end. This gives the Mass a perfect arch form with Věruju (Credo) as its centerpiece. There are meter changes in both the Úvod (Introduction) and especially in the Gospodi, pomiluj (Kyrie) where 5/4 meter was originally conceived and then switched to easier 4/4. The Věruju movement contains the largest changes, with the orchestral middle section, the "Raspet" (an orchestral commentary on the Crucifixion), longer and more complex in the original version and containing a wild section with three sets of timpani omitted in the revised version, as well as off-stage clarinets. Finally, the Svet (Sanctus) movement is extended thrillingly near the end, reaching ever higher and higher.

[John L Webb, MusicWeb International]

I shall probably add to this a little later, but I was feeling a bit bad about the delay.