Reviews

Epsom Choral Society's 2020 vintage concert was all ready for consumption when the spread of  Covid turned into a national lockdown and the programme had to be quickly put back into the  bottle. When it emerged again in November 2021, it was like a second fermentation. Having learnt  this programme a year and a half ago, they had  that extra time to know and love the music and  make it their own. Add an extra dose of rehearsal  and what emerged tonight had added fizz, like the  sparkling wines of the Surrey Hills. It was the  happy sound of a choir singing music they knew  well and keen to share its detail with an attentive  audience. 

It was also the Saturday after bonfire night. With  the doors and windows wisely wide open, a few  pieces were punctuated by the sound not of  champagne corks popping but of extraneous  fireworks, as people that couldn't get tickets in  tonight's packed St Martin's Church sought other  entertainment. It didn't seem to matter. The music was captivating and the interruptions brief, so  there was little break in the concentration. 

First off was J.S. Bach's motet Lobet den Herrn. It was the one piece that wasn't in the plans for last  year. Jon Pullinger's guiding programme notes acknowledge the possibility that it may be by  someone else. Enough eminent Bach scholars have been convinced of the attribution and for long  enough that there is scant reason to challenge it. Choral Society's approach followed their best Bach  style. In this setting of Psalm 117, fugues outnumber the verses, so singers took care to articulate  the contrapuntal lines and ensure all the words were distinct. Singing in German added an extra  challenge to a programme otherwise in Latin. On reaching the Alleluia section, confidence grew as  words became straightforward and all the attention could go into the notes. This is far from easy  music but long experience of singing Bach Passions at Leith Hill saw them through. 

Pergolesi's Stabat Mater followed, in an arrangement by Desmond Ratcliffe that allocated several  movements to the chorus, sharing the tunes between women's and men's voices. Choral Society  knew it well, especially the familiar Latin text that was beautifully clear throughout. They could  command a variety of tempi and moods, from the genteel dance of 'O quam tollis', the fast and  contrapuntal 'Fac ut ardeat' or the well-supported long-breathed phrases of the opening 'Stabat  mater dolorosa' to the skippy, canonic 'Inflammatus'. I loved how long held chords were never  uniform but were invested with shape throughout. 

In between was a succession of showcase movements for the soloists. If I needed reminding of how  much we've been deprived of live performance these last eighteen months, mezzo Beth Moxon and  sopranos Miranda Heldt and Eleanor Pennell-Briggs made the point handsomely. In duet, the  sopranos timed their ornaments so that trills shook at the same speed. I never heard that in any  virtual performance. When coming in second, Eleanor Pennell-Briggs had a gift for matching  timbre so that harmony seemed to emerge as from a single voice. Beth Moxon supplied the pinot  meunier to the recipe. 'Eia mater' contained long lines with just a single repeated pitch, which she  delivered with a covered and complex timbre, whereas in 'Quae moerebat' she sprang into  syncopated vocal dance. Miranda Heldt excelled at bringing out the Italianate sound of the text. Her ornaments in 'Vidit suum' were woven discreetly into a hushed but sustained cantabile line, like  gemstones on a fine chain. 

A feature of the whole concert was Choral Society's customary discipline. It would be easy to lose  momentum by fuss or fidgeting between movements. Everyone knew where to be and how to get  there. Every movement followed neatly and engagingly from the one before, with never a pause to  give a starting note or shuffle the music. My congratulations to the concert managers and their eye  for detail. 

The English Sinfonietta can have  had few chances to play together  in recent months but they  maintained a chamber-style  unanimity of expression. Positioning between chorus and  soloists gave just the right  balance between vocal and  instrumental. Facing a set of  responsive and agile  instrumentalists may have encouraged Julian Collings,  conducting, to take some  movements faster than in earlier  rehearsals. It was a risk worth taking as everyone knew the piece well enough to go with him. 

After the interval, Dixit Dominus asked for a degree more bravura and drama. Soloists were  allowed brief declamations. When we heard Joe Doody only twice and Jon Stainsby just for a few  bars, it felt a bit profligate not to ask them to sing again, like ordering a magnum when you only  have two small glasses. By the time we reached the concluding 'Gloria Patri', many voices were  still fully fuelled and firing but some gave a hint that this was a long piece at the end of a long day. No criticism of the conductor, whose afternoon rehearsal was brief, focused and encouraging, but a  possible consequence of the long, enforced near-silence. I can personally vouch that baroque music  gets easier at baroque pitch, whereas Choral Society were up with the modern instruments tonight. 

Choral Society clearly knew this piece very well. People kept looking up at Julian and smiling, and  why not, when finally given the chance to perform a piece with confidence on this scale? They were  properly dramatic. They sang in a manner close to pizzicato at the start, they sounded pretty angry  in 'iuravit Dominus' and they built the tension up inexorably through 'tu es sacerdos’, with chords  that stayed supported and dramatic for their full length. The bloodthirsty 'Conquassabit capita' contained confident consonants as if they made tongue-twisters a routine feature of rehearsals. The success of Dixit  Dominus can depend on the  last two movements and  once again everyone knew  what to do. Tenors and  basses who had previous  been supplying incisive  fugal entries now stayed  seated to provide a delicate  colour wash behind the  translucent duet of Miranda  Heldt and Eleanor Pennell-Briggs. It's a mystifying, opaque text. We were treated to serene refreshment after the previous  belligerence. With poised, alternating vocal entries over perpetual quavers from the strings, they  never allowed the brook to run dry. 

Then finally is ‘Gloria Patri’. Too fast to read the score, it's time to trust to memory, watch the  conductor and enjoy using whatever voice you have left. I might have preferred to let the soloists  join in. Their absence made the point that Choral Society knew it well enough to manage without  them. Julian Collings wasn't slowing down for anyone. Time after time, the words 'Et in secula  seculorum' came over with the clarity and confidence that the choir would keep going all night if  you asked them to. They didn't have to. They finished as well together as they started and could  stand enjoying the applause. They had sung separately into their phones. They had sung outside  and in a car park. Now after too long away, they were back in front of the audience they deserved.  After a twice fermented concert, they could open the champagne. 

I was invited to review the performance of Josef Haydn's The Creation at St Andrew's Church, Cheam, on Saturday November 16 2019. This has long been one of my favourite oratorios and I attended with great anticipation. The performance had some beautiful and stirring moments. The three soloists sang beautifully, and their ensemble singing was very secure. The soprano, Lisa Swayne, sang with a lovely tone, but with a tendency to crescendo towards her high notes whatever the written dynamic. She suffered from the choice of tempi for her main arias, as did the other soloists. I feel she would have preferred a slower tempo for her main aria With Verdure Clad, as with most of her other solos.The tenor, Joseph Doody, again sang beautifully, mainly in the recitatives and ensembles. In Native Worth, his major aria, was very nicely performed.

Gavin Horsley, the bass soloist, gave a particularly strong performance. His rendition of Straight Opening Her Fertile Womb was a delight. Its depiction of the lion, the stag, the horse, cattle etc. and ending with a wondrous low D for the sinuous worm, although not in the score, was splendid. His singing both as soloist and in ensemble was outstanding.

Especially beautiful was the duet Graceful Consort with Lisa, and the duet By Thee With Bliss, which was accompanied by the chorus, achieved a lovely piano sound. This was a high spot of the evening for me.The English Sinfonietta kept up with the fast speeds very well. Some of the introductions suffered from confusion over starting tempi. There was much beautiful playing, especially from the woodwind section.

The chorus sang very well throughout, when they were not struggling to keep up. The tempi chosen for the major choruses such as The Heavens Are Telling and the final Sing The Lord Ye Voices All, which combined the soloists and the chorus, was far too fast and the clarity and nobility of these, and most of the other choruses in the work, were lost. However, the great moment of "and there was LIGHT" was wonderfully achieved with a true pianissimo before, and a thunderous C major chord on the word LIGHT. Truly memorable.  

Inspiring sight of so many keen (and familiar) faces eager to perform in imposing space. After noting slightly untidy start in orchestra, much impressed by power and style of tenor soloist Elgan Llyr Thomas. Choir entries good, balanced and well co-ordinated, despite distance between front and rear of platform. Fresh sound of semi-chorus. 

Bass soloist Jon Stainsby equally impressive and communicative – wish Elgar had given singer in this part more to do. Effort from tenor to avoid swamping by orchestra seems draining, but fortunately find later that soloist has something left for second half. Occasional balance problems as orchestra rather loud at times - hard to judge exactly, as so near front, but pp ought to mean as soft as possible – horns please note. Incredible detail in score obvious once again – all sorts of detail meticulously marked, as always with Elgar. Performance so far adjudged to have shown choir making every effort to carry out precise directions – sensitive entries in Kyrie, though tutti slightly fluffed, and dynamic markings carefully observed in "Rescue him". 

Second half – blown away for second time, by mezzo soprano soloist’s power, artistry and quality of tone. As one (of many) marvelling over years at classic performances of one Janet Baker, feel that here is someone who can help us move on. Clear diction, strong projection and tender communication with tenor soloist show Judy Brown has great future.Having unashamed low-church Protestant background, not convinced by Catholic near-obsession with purgatory and supposed trials of Christian soul in after-life – unsurprised to learn from informative programme that early last century, some Anglican cathedrals did not allow performance, or attempted to tone down words; perhaps Blake’s line about "mind-forged manacles" in back of some minds here. However, feel it churlish to deny sheer conviction of faith shown first in Elgar’s music and then clearly revealed time and again in this performance, especially in chorus of demons - suitably dramatic and turbulent. Try to imagine early audience reaction in perhaps more genteel days. 

Though expecting it, thrilled by climax of show – explosive choir entry on "Praise" as requested by composer, followed by magnificent choral gallop well sung; powerful words set to powerful music with desired effect emphatically achieved, despite inevitable blurring of some detail in large-building acoustic. Later minor grumble: semi-chorus weak in later section. However, no doubting heavenly bliss as depicted in final pages of Angel’s Farewell. Deplore some over-enthusiastic audience member starting applause insensitively early – intended atmospheric ending lost too soon. 

Overall, performance of great grandeur and real sensitivity, reflecting/justifying work’s veneration both here and abroad, almost continually since first successful performance.In conclusion, ponder (not for first time) how to introduce dramatic power of large-scale English (and other) choral music to young people deprived of such exposure in today’s all-pervasive popular music and electronic machinery culture. Try to retain hope that good live music will always survive.  Commend Julian Collings, Epsom Choral Society and Barnes Choir for effort in wonderful attempt to keep this happening. 

What a treat to be presented with not one, but four, contemporary choral classics in a single concert! Whilst ostensibly a gamble, the 250-strong audience was amply rewarded with wonderfully studied performances that made the journey there and back through wild winds and biblical floods entirely worthwhile.

The concert opened with the main work of the evening – Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms, conceived for an all male choir and first performed as such in Chichester in 1965. Set throughout in Hebrew (and the first of this evening’s linguistic challenges for the choir), the setting of Old Testament texts in three movements embodies Bernstein’s affirmation of faith, encompassing joy, humility and prayer.

So we began with a resounding "joyful noise unto the Lord", an exhilarating (and frightening for the singers) introduction where no quarter was given, least of all to the stalwart tenors having to launch straight into a series of parallel sevenths. Bravo – it was not for the faint hearted. Those persistent and discordant intervals, together with the movement’s 7/4 metre, perhaps reflected the numerical significance of the number seven within the Judeo-Christian tradition.

Alexander Gillan, chorister from Guildford Cathedral, was our treble soloist for the second movement producing exactly the innocence of tone envisaged by Bernstein in this simple, tender and haunting song of the young shepherd David. The juxtaposition of tranquil solos at the beginning and end of the movement with a brief moment of ferocious tenors and basses in between is possibly a reminder of mankind’s eternal struggle between conflict and faith.

Peter Jaekel gave an impassioned organ interlude to open the third movement. There was much luminous unison singing of the main motif – a fervent devotional offering that came across with utter conviction from the choir. The work ended with the singers on a unison note – Bernstein’s prayer for the unity of mankind, perchance. It was an inspiring start to the evening’s programme.

Keziah Thomas’s harp solos were a perfect sorbet, dividing the choral items in each half of the programme. Having provided an integral accompaniment to the Bernstein, she turned out to be also an excellent verbal communicator, explaining the back-story to each work with fluency and charm, and amply demonstrating the under-estimated versatility of her instrument.

Crossing Waves celebrated the astounding achievements of Ros Savage – the first and only woman (to date) to row solo across the Big Three oceans: Atlantic, Pacific and Indian. Andy Scott, the composer, was lucky to have such an accomplished exponent in Kezia who drew an astonishing range of colours and effects for this three-movement work in charting those intrepid journeys.

In the second half, Kezia chose music by two contemporary female composers – Allie Robertson and Deborah Henson Conant. The former’s Grey demonstrated one technique over many chords – an example of Scottish minimalism à la Phillip Glass! Conant’s Baroque Flamenco was indeed, in Kezia’s words, a show stopper – encompassing strumming, drumming and a plethora of effects. It is a great pity that many harpists never seem to venture beyond the "prettiness" of the instrument. What we saw and heard from Kezia was a consummate and virtuosic professional at work.

James Bower – percussionist extraordinaire – dazzled us throughout the evening with his mastery of a multiplicity of percussion instruments, whether it was bells, drums of various sizes, cymbals, gong or wind chimes – all of which added colour to the evening’s spectrum of sound.

So back to the choir. Before the interval, we heard Morten Lauridsen’s Nocturnes, a cycle of four songs all on the theme of night, providing ECS with linguistic displays of French and Spanish – a walk in the park, perhaps, after the Hebrew.

The American Lauridsen specialises in choral writing that evokes atmospheric or mystical effects. The settings of Rilke for the bookend songs are just that - deep and emotional, and the choir produced radiant singing that was beautiful and heart-felt. The French pronunciation was admirable.

The unaccompanied Pablo Neruda achieved a spiritual quality with its hints of Gregorian and medieval overtones – the whole being dressed unmistakably in a lyrical contemporary idiom. The 80-plus-strong choir produced a beautifully well-balanced and nuanced sound.

It was brave of Lauridsen to follow in the footsteps of Barber’s phenomenally successful setting (in 1940) of the same poem by James Agee, Sure on this Shining Night. Perhaps inspired by the words, both versions are characterised by an eloquent simplicity. Again, diction was admirable and there was a moving quality particularly from the tenors and basses with the whole choir producing a beautiful soundscape with wonderful control of dynamic changes. Marion Lea, long-standing accompanist for ECS, made a significant contribution in helping to set the mood of this song with her superbly sensitive playing. 

Our second half began with Eric Whitacre’s Cloudburst,written when the composer was in his early twenties. As a youngster with a short but chequered past, Whitacre produced a work of youthful exuberance and invention that was nevertheless solidly based on the classical tradition. The title Cloudburst is symbolic of a spiritual respect for the power of water and supposedly the joyous profundity of rebirth – all good New Age thinking. And along the way, he threw in all manner of percussive effects including chimes, bells, cymbals – really, everything but the kitchen sink.

ECS met the challenges of verbal effects, physical movements, jagged intervals, dissonant clusters, general tonal mish-mash and massive choral sonorities head on. It was fun. The build-up of the storm from a quiet beginning in minor key to the climactic outburst of sopranos in the major key – not the most subtle convention - was unerringly handled by choir and conductor. There are shades of Tavener here and wisps of a Buddhist mysticism that continues to infect some composers today.

Not content with showing off their language skills, ECS hereby offered highly effective finger clicking to portray the first drops of rain through a tropical storm to the eventual clearing of the spirit and the sky. 

And finally, Chilcott’s Songs and Cries of London Town – a happy, light hearted setting of five texts, evoking a variety of impressions of London from across the past 500 years. As ever, the choir took Chilcott’s trademark tricky rhythms and unexpected modulations in its stride. The whole set made for attractive music of variety, with lively cross rhythms in fast movements and delicate lyricism in the slow ones. The performance was in turn exciting, contemplative and happy.  The third movement is a vibrant take on that 18th century rhyme Oranges and Lemons. Not surprisingly, it became so popular that it is published separately under the title London Bells. Marion Lea and Peter Jaekel joined forces enthusiastically at the piano to give a highly enjoyable performance.

All in all, it was a stimulating evening of modern choral music that bodes well for the future. The programme notes were excellent as ever, and it was gratifying to see such a large audience there for the slightly off-beat fare. A choir that can cope with these four challenging and demanding works, whilst at the same time preparing for its annual Leith Hill Musical Festival programme is, quite simply, awesome! Clarity of diction is a given with ECS and makes for an abiding memory to take home, along with fine singing that drew on all the earthy colourings of the works.

Bravo and thank you, ECS, once again.

This year’s summer concert was a little more traditional in style and format than we have become used to, but was none the less interesting for that. The focus was largely on music that can be and sometimes is performed liturgically, ie during an actual service, though it is rare for the Requiem by Duruflé to be so presented. Your scribe was lucky enough to hear it this way on All Souls’ Day in King’s College, Cambridge in university days. Likewise, the equally good choir of St John’s College, Cambridge, led the way in the in-service performance of masses such as the Vierne in the college chapel from the 1960s onwards, under the great George Guest. Again, we music students made a point of being there on Sunday mornings – these large-scale liturgical performances were a revelation.

But enough of ancient history.  In the here and now, ECS brought us music once again suited to the large space in St Martin’s Church. The Mass by Louis Vierne, the blind organist of Notre Dame, Paris, was originally for two organs (what luxury!) but realistically a solo organ version was also produced and is more often used for obvious practical reasons. The instrument at St Martin’s is suitably matched to the scale of music and building, with organist Peter Jaekel making good use of it. The choral textures are mostly uncomplicatedly chordal and there was great clarity in the choir’s presentation. 

The confident start in the opening Kyrie showed in the well-contrasted dynamics and the good tenor line, as well as in the careful balance between choir and organ. This sense of direction continued in the Gloria where the basses gave a good account of themselves and there was a good steady build-up in the Qui Sedes. A difficult restart was very well executed. In the Sanctus, some entries sounded somewhat less secure but the climax was very exciting, with the Hosannas sounding particularly happy. Unaccompanied sections of the Benedictus came off well and the slow part was very atmospheric. Once again, the build-up in the Hosanna was very good. 

The Agnus Dei contains some more subtle part-writing which came across well particularly in the chromatic passages. Tuning slipped a little in the C sharp major section but the ending was very well balanced and musically effective. Certainly, such a mass as this is very suitable for a choir like ECS and it was a very good choice as a concert opener.

The Regent Sinfonia’s rendering of the Capriol Suite was an apt selection – English music to lead us into the next course. They played it with great style and accuracy, apart from a few less secure moments in the Pavane. This was made up for with the lovely lilt in the Tordion, very good ensemble in the Bransles, real warmth and contrasting delicacy in the Pieds-en-l’airand a wonderful dance rhythm and sense of energy in the final movement, Mattachins. Many moments in this suite, particularly in Pieds-en-l’air, make clear Peter Warlock’s fine understanding and adept handling of earlier English styles, and it was obvious that everyone enjoyed this very much.

So to O Joyful Soul, the music commissioned by the Society in memory of much-loved and very long-standing former choir member Cecil Wiltshire and a further venture for the choir in the world of the commissioning of new music. In this, the world premiere, the words of two psalms, poetry by Pope and Lucas and a prayer by Cranmer were very suitable choices for composer Jonathan Willcocks to set. They reflect Cecil’s dedication to the life of the church and his enjoyment of all things English. The composer chose to use a musical style that is basically traditional and tonal, but with nods in a modern direction. The seven/eight rhythms of the music for the outer movements were snappy and effective and choir and orchestra delivered them crisply and with confidence. The harp and trumpets were well used at appropriate points and gave sufficient variety to the orchestral accompaniment without the need for a large band. The dreamy nature of the second movement, Happy the Man, was achieved through the gently floating soprano solo, beautifully sung by Lisa Swayne. If the first choral entry sounded a little insecure, their accompaniment of the solo line was very well handled. The sotto voce ending with soloist floating on top was a delight.

The more churchlike style of the third movement, Remember not, Lord, our Offences, reminded us of Cecil’s contribution as a choir member and as a Reader at St Martin’s for so long. It was simple but heartfelt, even when the orchestra were occasionally a little loud. Balance within the choir however was always good and the right effect was achieved. In the fourth movement, the text was rather more flowery, and if this should be a problem for some, it might helpful to remember that we often sing words such as this in works like Elgar’s songs From the Bavarian Highlands. The text here is almost a foreigner’s idealistic view of this sceptered isle, but it was set sensitively, with attention given to the clarity of the words in performance by both composer and choir. Your scribe particularly appreciated the excellent way the alto line was sung at the words ‘how would I love to see your face again’ each time it came. In one section the choir accompaniment was a little loud for the soloist, and I wondered why there was any need for the first violin to double the soloist near the final bars. These are, however, minor points – overall the performance was effective and moving. 

It can therefore be honestly said that a fit and proper tribute to a special human being has been well paid in the careful crafting and tender performance of this intriguing new work of art.

Duruflé’s Requiem of 1947 is a twentieth century landmark for all who appreciate French religious music. It goes further than Fauré’s excellent example in using the actual plainsongs of the Requiem Mass but it does not hesitate to move ahead in places in terms of harmonic, rhythmic and melodic expression, though without resorting to the extreme dissonance of much of last century’s composition. Therefore, it was a fitting climax to this splendid concert and an appropriate piece (if one may say it once again) in such a large space – something which it should always have. 

The work has various scorings: organ alone, organ with strings, trumpets, and timpani and the original, full orchestra with organ. (Duruflé’s own recording of this last makes for interesting listening). The second, which we heard, is the one, for practical reasons, most often done. We were treated to an enjoyable performance on a par with the location, but there were some problems of balance which were never fully solved. Unfortunately, the sixteen-foot flue stops of the pedal organ are all, bar one, very loud and so quite often there was too much organ bass. However the choir put across the expressive nature of this heartfelt music, even if the singer in his or her place on the platform might not have been sure how well the musical line would be projected to the listener. It is the lot of the performer to be unable to hear exactly what an audience actually receives. So, there has to be trust and confidence in what the conductor asks for in terms of louds and softs, balance between the parts and in the details of diction. The overall result was effective, notwithstanding the comments above.

The imbalance referred to above was more or less the only blot on the Introit’s dreamy opening, though an alto entry could have been clearer. The Kyrie needs everyone’s heads to be up which they mostly were (trust the beat!) as the choral lines are very intricate. It built up well and the tempo change was smooth and confident. The eventual climax was impressive, but could have used even more volume from the choir. The decrescendo to the atmospheric ending was very well executed.

The Domine Jesu Christe had a beautifully sung alto opening followed by a suitably forceful Libera eas. The demanding animato section came across as very confident – not the easiest thing to bring off. The contrasting passage with the floating soprano line, Sed signifer, was very good along with the lovely paired voices in Quam olim Abrahae. Finally, the excellent baritone Edmund Saddington had his chance and his lovely tone was worth waiting for. The Quam olim at the end could perhaps have had more breath support, or is it to do with the slightly higher than concert pitch of the organ? No matter – a very powerful movement delivered well.

Problems of balance disappeared almost completely in the beautifully ethereal Sanctus, other than for a brief period in the middle. The rhapsodic nature of this lovely movement one might wish to go on for ever. In the Pie Jesu, soloist Lisa Swayne showed a wonderful ability to switch from the full soprano role she had filled earlier in the concert to a rich mezzo-soprano style. The demanding low notes at the end of this musical cry from the heart had an enviable richness and control and the whole movement was very movingly sung and played.

Matters of balance were better in the Agnus Dei– once again, well done, altos and basses! The final few bars were very well delivered. For your reviewer, the tempo of the Lux aeterna was a little fast but otherwise this was a confident and accurate performance of some potentially awkward moments. The organ balance here was very good and the final Quia pius esfrom the choir was excellent. 

The Libera me reached the climaxes necessary for such impassioned music, though the organ did not give both baritone soloist and the choir’s basses much chance in their solo lines. On the other hand, the full Dies illa did benefit from the sheer power of the instrument. The sopranos’ solo was beautifully sung and so I hope it will be felt that any criticism is small, compared with the overall effect of this performance. The somewhat out-of-balance (in terms of length) final In paradisum recovered from a shaky first note to be suitably uplifting and atmospheric, with all matters of balance very well handled.

It was a pleasure to hear the choir again and I am very grateful for the chance both to hear all this splendid music and to write about it. Once again, Julian Collings and the committee are to be commended for the society’s interesting and varied programming. 

Israel in Egypt asks a lot of its chorus. I counted twenty-eight choruses, nineteen in eight parts. On this night, Epsom Choral Society had the measure of it, performing with a confidence that explained how this work, in its Victorian heyday, enjoyed greater popularity even than Messiah.

In his programme notes, Jon Pullinger promised us the full panoply. The delivery never flagged. Somewhat under-used soprano Josephine Goddard began the final Sing ye to the Lord in full war cry but neither orchestra nor chorus, who in rehearsal and concert had been on stage for close to four hours by then, refused to be outdone. Choral Society’s sopranos could still carry a consistently high phrase and, unlike the horse and his rider, refused to be drowned by timpani and trombones.

It was Handel’s choice not to give Josephine Goddard more to do. Her single duet, The Lord is my strength and my song, sung with Catriona Hewitson, showed that she could add lyricism and sensitive tone-matching to the martial drama of the finale. Her duet partner was given an air to herself: Thou didst blow with the wind, which was brief but virtuoso. Ranging from an upper B flat to a lower E flat and full of seventh and octave leaps, she projected it with minimal vibrato and never a hint that this music might be difficult.

Beth Moxon had a little more to do, including introducing the first chorus. With only a few chances to impress, it would be tempting to overdo the volume. Instead, she measured And the children of Israel sighed with delicacy. Choral Society picked up on that. First the altos and sopranos, then sopranos and tenors, then the whole choir sang their entries with the same spirit: the restraint and refinement made for a moment of true beauty. Her duet with tenor Dominic Bevan and her solo Thou shalt bring them in were sung with flexible delicacy. If Handel’s line demanded tricky rhythmic skips before a long, held note, it sounded perfectly natural, with an engaging shape to each longer note.

Other movements were introduced by Dominic Bevan. I would gladly have heard more of his recitative, which was guided always by the text with the music just forming naturally around it. Once or twice the orchestra, cellos especially, felt as if it might choose a different tempo from the soloists. When the words were "I will pursue, I will overtake", that may have been intentional. In any case, ensemble gets harder when soloists have to face away from the conductor.

The duet The Lord is a man of war between basses Kieran Rayner (left) and Timothy Edlin (right) showed the Regent Sinfonia at their best. Despite small stylistic differences – Edlin with a shade more vibrato – they blended well, even synchronizing their rolled "r’s" in the word "drowned" and matching their athletic descending runs over an octave or more. During the singers’ rests, the orchestra shone. Thirds between upper strings harmonized perfectly in neatly etched phrases. The bassoons and oboes picked up on the vocal phrases and matched the singers for style.

I love timpani. The Sinfonia’s player had brought a variety of sticks, so that hailstones could land with a sharp report or the Lord’s triumph could enjoy regal plumpness. Occasionally the timpani managed to steady a fugue that looked as if it might start to separate but such moments were few. Playing both organ and harpsichord was Marion Lea, Choral Society’s consummate accompanist. Always aware of what would help the singers, she kept the organ erring on the side of audible or spread a harpsichord arpeggio to remind everyone of their entry.

However, the real stars of Israel in Egyptwere the chorus. Time after time, Handel demanded exposed fugal entries, or eight-part chords direct from the previous movement, or long stretches near the top of the register. Time after time Choral Society were equal to the demands. Seven divisi tenors deserve a special mention, managing always to be heard without ever sounding forced. Altos seized their chance to show they could do fast semiquavers in With the blast of thy nostrils. They demonstrated dainty quick upbeats in He sent a thick darkness, which the other parts then emulated. At The depths have covered them, basses dropped solidly to the final "stone", displaying a compass of two whole octaves. At the defining point, He rebuked the Red Sea, the full chorus was challenged to sing the movement from memory: eight parts, whole phrases without orchestra, deserving the audience’s full attention.

Once or twice, a semiquaver run felt slightly faster than comfortable. Only once did the ensemble drift apart for a few bars after one part had sung a slow rhythm a bit too slowly. Julian Collings stood a bit straighter, his beat became temporarily four-square and enough key singers were watching and following so that each subsequent entry was back in its rightful place.

These moments were exceptions and came only at the trickiest parts of what is, after all, difficult music. More importantly, the performance never lost its sparkle, its drama or its power. The whole promised panoply of effects that Handel requested was adeptly provided by a chorus that had clearly taken this work to their hearts.

Before Christmas, I was myself expecting to sing Israel in Egypt this term. I belong to a London choir that had it on the programme but had to change plan, possibly because they could not get hold of the scores. If the real reason was that Epsom Choral Society had all the copies going, then I need have no regrets. They were in very good hands.