I've been planning for some time to write a post about this remarkable and scarcely-known piece of music, but I've been holding on to it until Mother's Day.
Welsh composer William Mathias wrote his cantata, Lux Aeterna, in 1982 on a commission from the world-renowned Three Choirs Festival. This wide-ranging and deeply-felt work was composed in memory of the composer's mother, and there's an implied thread of connection that links several aspects of the piece to womanhood and motherhood. It's not an overt connection, but is none the less present.
What is overt, and striking too, is the series of resemblances to Benjamin Britten's masterpiece, his War Requiem, composed 20 years earlier (you can read about that work here: In Remembrance....
Many of the resemblances are structural. Mathias also sets the Latin text of the Requiem Mass (portions of it, at least) along with other texts from the liturgy for large orchestra and chorus, and uses a children's chorus in a separate, more sparely accompanied role, singing Latin hymns to the Virgin Mary, underscored by organ. He also interweaves the Latin sections with poetry from other hands, sung in English by soloists.
Stylistic similarities are there too, most openly and strikingly in the final section, Libera Me, in which Mathias closely follows Britten in building a helter-skelter climax out of disjointed, rhythmically irregular melodic sequences highlighted by particular use of the whip-crack. I think it's safe to say that Mathias would have produced a very different kind of work if the War Requiem hadn't been there to stake out a precedent.
But don't be deceived. For all the large number of similarities, the souls of these two works reside in very different neighbourhoods. Britten's is more edgily dramatic, pleading, exhorting, and warning (in line with the poetry of Wilfred Owen which so profoundly influenced Britten). William Mathias leans much more towards the consoling, the inspiring, the philosophical, and the tone of his music is far more lyrical with long-arched melodic lines reflecting that very different character and emphasis. Nor is this entirely surprising, since the innate musicality of his homeland of Wales has been known and celebrated for centuries on end. The orchestration overall makes effective use of harps, vibraphone, celesta, and marimba to evoke in sound a tissue of light, reflecting the theme of "lux aeterna."
Mathias chose three of the mystical poems of St. John of the Cross, written during the 1500s in Spain and here translated into English. The poems reflect in a mystical tone the songs of a bride to the bridegroom, an image which in Catholic theology especially is held to reflect the union of the Church with God, and particularly with Christ. These poems are sung by trio of female voices, one each of contralto, mezzo-soprano, and soprano, in that order -- since the poems reflect the theme of a journey from the Dark Night of the Soul to the moment of final union with God, personified as Light. A fourth poem, a reflection on the first chapter of the Gospel of John ("in the beginning was the Word") is sung by all three soloists.
The work divides into three main movements and lasts for nearly an hour in performance. The first two movements each begin with one of the sections of the liturgy, proceed into one of the Marian hymns, and then continue into one of the solos. A final utterance of the main choir concludes the first and second movements.
The longer and more complex third movement, Libera me, begins by following this pattern. But after the soprano solo comes a significant change in the layout. The main choir (rather than the children) launches into the Latin hymn, Veni, sponsa Christi., which is sung to the same intense and dramatic music sung at the beginning of the movement to the Libera me of the Requiem. Then comes the magnificent trio of the three soloists together, its intricate melodic lines gradually entwining and mounting towards a soaring climax which is reached by way of a dramatic acceleration. The three soloists drive forward with unstoppable energy into an ecstatic setting of the Sanctus. This breaks off suddenly as the children intone the Agnus Dei, with its "plea for inner and outer peace" as Beethoven so memorably described it.
The final pages feature a complex, multi-layered tapestry of sound, with the orchestra underpinning the singers with its shimmering, glittering textures. The main choir sings the Lux aeterna of the Requiem, while the children chant an ethereal Ave maris stella that rides atop the texture. Meanwhile the trio of soloists are singing the Requiem aeternam, with a small but significant change of the text. Instead of singing "Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine" ("Grant them eternal rest, Lord") the key word change alters "eis" to "ei", and we then have "Grant her eternal rest, Lord." The work ends on a luminous, unresolved suspension which, so far from feeling incomplete, actually opens a sense of the continuity of eternity.
Mathias may have been inspired by Britten's War Requiem in some particulars of this work, but his own special and considerable gifts led him to create a totally striking and original work, a masterpiece of great beauty in its own right, which deserves much wider circulation.
I have a copy of the premiere recording on Chandos Records, made in 1984 under the direction of Sir David Willcocks, and their 1998 reissue of that recording is still available from the Chandos website.
Mathias chose three of the mystical poems of St. John of the Cross, written during the 1500s in Spain and here translated into English. The poems reflect in a mystical tone the songs of a bride to the bridegroom, an image which in Catholic theology especially is held to reflect the union of the Church with God, and particularly with Christ. These poems are sung by trio of female voices, one each of contralto, mezzo-soprano, and soprano, in that order -- since the poems reflect the theme of a journey from the Dark Night of the Soul to the moment of final union with God, personified as Light. A fourth poem, a reflection on the first chapter of the Gospel of John ("in the beginning was the Word") is sung by all three soloists.
The work divides into three main movements and lasts for nearly an hour in performance. The first two movements each begin with one of the sections of the liturgy, proceed into one of the Marian hymns, and then continue into one of the solos. A final utterance of the main choir concludes the first and second movements.
The longer and more complex third movement, Libera me, begins by following this pattern. But after the soprano solo comes a significant change in the layout. The main choir (rather than the children) launches into the Latin hymn, Veni, sponsa Christi., which is sung to the same intense and dramatic music sung at the beginning of the movement to the Libera me of the Requiem. Then comes the magnificent trio of the three soloists together, its intricate melodic lines gradually entwining and mounting towards a soaring climax which is reached by way of a dramatic acceleration. The three soloists drive forward with unstoppable energy into an ecstatic setting of the Sanctus. This breaks off suddenly as the children intone the Agnus Dei, with its "plea for inner and outer peace" as Beethoven so memorably described it.
The final pages feature a complex, multi-layered tapestry of sound, with the orchestra underpinning the singers with its shimmering, glittering textures. The main choir sings the Lux aeterna of the Requiem, while the children chant an ethereal Ave maris stella that rides atop the texture. Meanwhile the trio of soloists are singing the Requiem aeternam, with a small but significant change of the text. Instead of singing "Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine" ("Grant them eternal rest, Lord") the key word change alters "eis" to "ei", and we then have "Grant her eternal rest, Lord." The work ends on a luminous, unresolved suspension which, so far from feeling incomplete, actually opens a sense of the continuity of eternity.
Mathias may have been inspired by Britten's War Requiem in some particulars of this work, but his own special and considerable gifts led him to create a totally striking and original work, a masterpiece of great beauty in its own right, which deserves much wider circulation.
I have a copy of the premiere recording on Chandos Records, made in 1984 under the direction of Sir David Willcocks, and their 1998 reissue of that recording is still available from the Chandos website.
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