Reviews

I will never forget the first time I heard Verdi's Requiem.  That crashing wall of sound that was the Dies Irae filled me with fear and awe.  It seemed as if the mouth of hell had been opened and nothing could stop the all-consuming fire.  And here on offer from Epsom Choral Society is this mighty work, accompanied by only five instruments.  Would it work?  I couldn't wait to find out.

The choir started off solemnly setting the scene.  Their warm-hearted singing incorporated a range of colours - from a luminous 'Et lux perpetua' to a firmness of purpose in 'Te decet hymnus'.  The four soloists also made an impressive appearance with their fugal 'Kyrie'.

Then came the 'Dies Irae'.  Such was the spirit of the choir as they hurled their phrases at us that it was hard to believe there were not twice the number of singers on stage. This was fearless and exciting singing.  With alternating timpani and bass drum replicating the original scoring, we were wholly immersed in fire and brimstone.  

In addition to the high octane 'Dies Irae', the choir is given other saner but even more challenging fare, such as the fugue for 2 choirs in 'Sanctus'.  Here, ECS was nimble and assured, keeping the texture light, transparent and a joy to listen to.  The concluding movement 'Libera me' is a balancing companion to the 'Sanctus', demanding equally tight control to prevent any section from charging off the rails.  Such hair raising moments showed the true mettle of ECS in their ability to conquer details, keep a clear head and ride the storm. 

What a fabulous quartet of fine young soloists. All performed magnificently and immeasurably added to the enjoyment of the evening.  There were simply too many superlative moments, the following being a cruelly curtailed list.

Soprano Elizabeth Findon's impassioned singing during the concluding 'Libera me' was a highlight of the evening.  Her high Bb near the end - a true pianississimo (pppp) - floated above a muted chorus;  it was translucent and sublime and a moment to remember.   'Quid sum miser' was exquisitely sung by mezzo Judy Louie Brown.  It was accompanied by the marimba - an unexpectedly successful substitute for solo bassoon in the original score, and especially notable this evening for both percussionists duetting on the one instrument!

John Findon is a commanding tenor. He was majestic in the opening of the 'Kyrie', and tenderly sensuous in 'Qui Mariam'.  Mark Nathan's cantabile bass solo 'Voca me' showed off Verdi's song-writing skill at its most natural and beautiful.  And whenever the four of them joined forces to sing as an ensemble, at times a cappella, they always added colour, sparkle and emotion to the drama.  I came out from the concert knowing that the haunting 'Lacrymosa' will be my Ohrwurm for weeks to come.

Verdi's Requiem is universally adored.  That this wonderful work can be accessible to local choirs with smaller forces at their disposal is thanks to Berlin musician, Michael Betzner-Brandt, who has miraculously reduced the massed orchestral requirements to an ingenious chamber ensemble of piano, horn, double bass, marimba (plus big bass drum) and timpani.  Yes, there are moments that are hard to replicate, such as the antiphonal trumpets in the 'Tuba mirum', but they are a very small price to pay for what has been gained.

Lynda Chang is a local pianist with special interest in opera and chamber music. 

England in the 18thand 19th centuries is often said to have been a ‘land without music’; this concert proved emphatically that from early in the 20th century every effort was being made to disprove that notion. From Parry in 1902 to Walton in 1931 we heard music of great confidence, assuredness of technique and not least, great beauty. The large forces needed were cleverly squeezed into the venue, including the optional extra brass. Such a splendid all-English offering encourages those of us who feel that much concert programming pays too little heed to the sheer quantity of excellent composition in these isles over the last one hundred and twenty years.

Parry’s ‘I was Glad’ and ‘Blest Pair of Sirens’ are staples of the repertoire but were given more than the usual respect; indeed, there was some very careful treatment of the various parts of the text. Even if the brass opening in the former left little room for the choirs’ entry to crescendo, mostly the dynamics were carefully observed, the Vivats were sensibly omitted (against current trends) and the contrasting middle sections in both were sensitively presented. The tempo of ‘I was Glad’ could perhaps have been a notch or two faster, given that this building has no noticeable reverberation period. In the louder parts, choral forces this size were able to balance the sheer power that modern orchestral instruments can produce and yet the climaxes were not overwhelming in a venue which might have been thought not quite large enough for such massed forces. 

The baritone soloist, Philip Tebb, was a very good communicator in both Vaughan Williams’ ‘Five Mystical Songs’ and Walton’s ‘Belshazzar’s Feast’, only very occasionally losing out to the scale of the orchestral sound behind him. A few hints of intonation fractionally under the note did not detract from his impassioned performance. When the choir was assigned to very gentle but tutti accompaniment, they were well balanced and the effect was surely exactly what the composer intended. Also particularly effective was the orchestral wind playing in ‘The Call’. Finally, the tightness and drive of ‘Let all the World’ with its excellent dynamic contrast ensured an inspiring finish to these heartfelt settings of George Herbert’s powerful poetry.

The English Sinfonietta’s strings provided a very appropriate breather in Elgar’s ‘Serenade’, before Parry’s ‘Blest Pair of Sirens’ rounded off the first half. This was precise, immaculate ensemble playing of a very high order. The music was allowed to breathe and a great many nuances of rhythm and dynamic were brought out in all three movements. Particularly notable was the restraint in the final part of the second movement. The stylish yet slightly skittish playing evident in the third movement reflects Elgar’s confident orchestration; string players eulogise Elgar’s writing for their instruments, saying that his understanding of their needs is shown in the way the individual lines often lie under their fingers.

The climax of the evening was of course Walton’s ground-breaking cantata, ‘Belshazzar’s Feast’. This must have been a revelation to all its hearers back in 1931 – it has this power now, as we heard clearly in this performance. The orchestra made the most of the dramatic brass and varied percussion writing, carefully designed so as not to drown out the choral writing, itself written deliberately in homophonic style so that the text would be clear to the listener. The rhythmic demands in this music are considerable, yet this performance came across as confident and accurate, even if some furious counting must have been going on amongst the differing voice parts.

The emotional outpouring in the first few pages reached a peak of luminosity in the repeated setting 

of the words ‘How shall I sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?’ Walton’s bold choral writing broke new ground and the choirs did it full justice. The long and demanding unaccompanied baritone solo was delivered with both accuracy and passion before we launched into the vivid description of the

feast and its musical elements. Walton’s music strikes a balance between modernity and tonal tradition which makes him more approachable than many other composers; this performance was admirable for its clarity and direction. The sinister percussion introduction to the writing on the wall and the choral shout of ’Slain!’ were as effective as any visual image, showing the power of modern oratorio when brilliantly crafted and expertly handled. The final romp of celebration was given due impetus and we were left breathless at the end by the grandeur of the conception and the quality of the performance.

Congratulations are due once more to Epsom Choral Society, The Barnes Choir, the Arcubus Ensemble and the English Sinfonietta, all under Julian Collings, for their stirring performance of a great classic.

Peter Lutton was formerly Assistant Director of Music, St John’s School, Leatherhead and Organist Emeritus, St Nicolas, Great Bookham 

It is a pleasure to write something again about a concert given by ECS about English music, a subject close to my heart, conducted by their Musical Director, Julian Collings.

Elgar’s The Spirit of the Lord, the atmospheric opening to his oratorio The Apostles, contains several themes heard throughout the work. There are one or two tricky moments but it is very direct in its unison passages and with its majestically long melodic line. The choir ensemble throughout was good and the climax was very effective, Elgar’s word setting allowing real clarity of text. Just occasionally I felt that a little more support in the choir’s breathing would have lifted the line, but this was a strong start.

John Ireland’s Greater Love Hath No Man again has a strong melodic line and clear presentation of the text. The opening tenor line was well projected with a good vocal blend and it was encouraging to see a choral society with a healthy number of men, some younger - one or two of the latter watching the conductor assiduously. Only once was the ensemble not quite together but the early climax was powerful and was particularly dramatic as it subsided. The Soprano solo was excellently projected and well balanced by the Baritone. The change of tempo was smooth and the build up to the choral climax suitably staged. The arrival at the final climax was very effective, followed by a well-supported soft closing section, though I would have liked to hear more bass in the final bars. The emotional circumstances of this work’s early performances (during and after WW 1) resonate today as much as ever and this presentation was in the best English tradition.

Herbert Howells’ Like as the Hart is one of four small-scale anthems written in war time when he directed the reduced forces of the chapel music at St John’s College, Cambridge. The tenors and basses produced a warm sound at the start and the first tutti was suitably intense. A few more consonants from the sopranos would help in the acoustics of St Martin’s but the Piu Animato went well as did the climax on ‘Where is now thy God?’ The Tenor and Bass were better supported than the Sopranos but the latter handled very well the demanding descant which accompanies the return of the opening material. Bliss indeed was the final tutti with its ecstatic solo Soprano, followed by the atmospheric ending. A memorable performance of a great piece, an all-time favourite of your scribe.

Gerald Finzi’s Lo the Full and Final Sacrifice is a work on a much greater scale. After the organ introduction (full marks to the organist, Peter Jaekel, as this is a demanding piece on any instrument) the first choral entry was excellent despite a hint of flatness at the end of the section. Again, we have a piece where the words can be heard and understood - we heard them clearly. Though the next entries were exposed, they were confident and accurate, not least the altos with the low start. While the G flat section wobbled slightly, the Soprano entry with (another) big tune was very clear and confident as indeed were the following entries, though the unison on ‘Help, Lord’ was less united. But these are small points; the performance conveyed the rhapsodic nature of a musical style very suited to the metaphysical poets, not least in the climax on ‘Lo the Bread of Life’. 

The Tenor soloist, John Findon, was outstanding in every way with the Bass, Jon Stainsby, close behind. The former was more than adequate even for a building of this size, as much with his ability to communicate the emotional heart of the text as with his vocal control. This was then complimented by the choral Soprano entry which was extremely clear. The following ensemble was less successful, though the four-part men’s passage was well contrasted. The final ecstatic Amen was beautifully done; a passage dear to the hearts of many in English choirs – would that it were longer! Full marks to Epsom Choral Society for putting it on so effectively and for promoting the work of British composers.

The final work, Stainer’s ‘The Crucifixion’ of 1887 has, as the programme helpfully noted, had its ups and downs. Stainer had rebuilt the reputation of St Paul’s Cathedral Choir; in ’The Crucifixion’ he encouraged the grass roots of Anglican music. 

This performance did full justice to this piece. Th soloists gave us the lines with simple directness, as did the choir in its first entries outlining the drama of the scene in the Garden. John Findon sensitively sang the tender solo that provided relief before the final tutti section. The recitative which covered the crucifixion itself was clearly given – the soloists were consistently top-class and the solos which followed kept up the intensity, especially in ‘King ever Glorious’. John Findon was very impressive at every level - I have not heard it sung better. 

For many, the centrepiece and the best-known is the chorus ‘God so loved the World’. The choir sang from memory and the result was the best communication of the evening. Syllabic word setting of course helps, but this carefully crafted performance put across the fundamental yet hard-hitting message of John 3:16 with total honesty and sincerity.

The following hymn ‘Holy Jesu, by thy passion’ continues the concentration of the text on what this dreadful event involves in terms of personal distress, reinforced by the recurring lines ‘Crucified, I turn to thee, Son of Mary, plead for me’, presented in a plain and simple unison. This can be as effective as a Bach chorale and the choir succeeded in this. The next recitative is brief but again direct; the duet that follows is the most intense writing in the whole work and our soloists offered it in all its dramatic power and yet with tenderness and pathos. 

In the hymns generally the varied way in which verses were presented maintained our interest and attention. Choir members took a greater part in the ensuing recitative, the second soloist being very commendable. The TTBB conclusion was dramatic, well balanced and effective. 

The recitatives leading up to the final chorus and hymn were a continuation of what had gone before – uncomplicated presentation of the narrative. Jon Stainsby conveyed the emotion and the drama with sincerity and without excess. Then in the final chorus the pent-up tensions of the drama found release, in the brisk tempo and strong dynamic contrasts. There was some lack of clarity in the short ‘Crucify!’ shouts but we got the point. The final pages were well shaped, as well as being tender and dramatic in equal measure and having an effective ending, even though it was pianissimo.

Though we all know the end of the story, it still has the power to move, as this performance of the final recitative and semi-chorus proved. The well-known final hymn leaves us with the hope for the future even though Easter is not mentioned. It was clear that the choir had really enjoyed the whole dramatic progression; the audience certainly did. Thank you to all involved for a wonderful evening.

Peter Lutton taught music at St John’s, Leatherhead for his whole career and is about to stand down as Organist and Choirmaster at St Nicolas, Great Bookham after twenty years.

The Old Testament prophet’s story was lavishly told with five soloists, an orchestra of strings, brass, woodwind, timpani and organ, and a chorus of several dozen well-drilled and responsive singers under conductor Julian Collings.

Your reviewer had attended their open rehearsal early in the term, when Marion Lea was supplying
single-handedly (well, two-handedly) all the orchestra’s notes on the piano and the chorus were learning how their parts fitted together. In the time since, Epsom Choral Society turned early sketches into a complete painting. An “iron” sky could be coloured by high woodwind chords, limping string phrases could suggest Elijah’s weary departure for the wilderness, and ringing timpani and organ chords underpinned a song of pious thanksgiving for the end of a famine. Felix Mendelssohn knew how to deploy an orchestra and the best way to appreciate it was to hear it live.

The Choral Society’s task was to project their sound from the tiered staging behind the orchestra and
unfold a series of choruses with very different challenges. In chordal passages they needed to keep in tune with each other, whereas in complex contrapuntal turn-taking movements the challenge was also keep up with the tempo and find their entries in among all the other notes. Elijah is also a big sing. It needs a lot of volume to deliver its full dramatic grandeur. They deliberately avoided over-singing the afternoon rehearsal, so there was still something in the tank even by the final two choruses, delivering whirring scale passages as Elijah went by a whirlwind to heaven. Those words ended very loud but began with some dramatic rapid whispering. Mendelssohn’s style relishes the idea of light “shining forth”. In one of those contrapuntal passages, the tenors, though fewer in number, still had that luminous quality more than two hours into the concert.

Before then, we had heard ample demonstrations of prowess from elsewhere in the choir. Not quite as outnumbered as the tenors, basses had a difficult task to make their entries clear when competing with organ, timpani and low strings but they were up to it.

Elijah is very much an English piece, written in the tradition of German composers working this side of the Channel. Mendelssohn was keen to make his lines fit the words of his English translator, William Bartholomew, and Choral Society made sure we heard them. You don’t often hear the word “laveth” in song but we heard it on Saturday. The most German-sounding moment came when the Angels’ trio “Lift thine eyes to the mountains” was sung by the choir sopranos and altos, instantly painting a scene of alpine villagers, with a lightness of touch that belied words about a foot that shall not be moved. There were not so many opportunities to show off delicacy and beauty of singing tone. They took that one, and the serene full-choir chorus that followed, “He, watching over Israel, slumbers not nor sleeps.” I missed “He that shall endure to the end”, cut for reasons of timing, which I think would have showed them off well.

Having an orchestra, the English Sinfonietta, and five soloists was a luxury. Treble Brandon McGuinness, taught singing at Epsom College by Christopher Goldsack, sang a resolute succession of top Gs while the orchestration changed underneath him. It is worth hearing those notes while they last. I have heard John Findon (tenor), Elizabeth Findon (soprano) and Judy Brown (mezzo) before and fully understand why they regularly get invited back. Judy Brown got the show-stopping movement, “O Rest in the Lord”. She kept it simple, with a voice both unaffected and affecting, offering half reassurance, half lullaby. They also gave us some delectable ensemble singing in the soprano-mezzo duet “Zion spreadeth her hands” and quartet “Cast thy burden upon the Lord”.

By far the largest role went to bass James Geidt as the prophet himself. Accustomed to operatic
performance, he learnt much of his part by heart, so when singing he could look to the audience or the other performers. He brought a voice that was rich and treacly and looked the part with a luxuriant Old-Testament beard. His acting skills led his character from pompous confidence through fear and weariness to final moments of joy.

There was plenty of joy. Epsom Choral Society had learnt their parts well. They sang of rescue,
perseverance and redemption, themes that were joyful enough, but they could also take pleasure in
performing to high standard.

In the midst of the ongoing war in Ukraine with all its tragic consequences, this Centenary concert,  celebrating 100 years of Epsom Choral Society, was an uplifting experience. Music is the perennial  force that brings light to the darkest of times. 

After the better part of two years lost to Covid, many choral societies have found themselves  struggling to re-group, some with insufficient numbers to re-start. Not so with Epsom Choral  Society. Not only did its intrepid members continue whenever and wherever possible with their  rehearsals - many acquiring new-found technical skills for online sessions - they even managed to  navigate around the government's isolation guidelines by rehearsing outdoors in members' gardens  and, on occasion, in a public car park. Such exploits were duly recorded and celebrated by the local  press. This determination to battle on where others might have given up shows their truly admirable  enthusiasm and resourcefulness. 

How better then than to start the evening with Vivaldi's Gloria - a deservedly popular war-horse  among choral societies. This joyful hymn of praise is divided into twelve short and contrasting  sections, with emotions ranging from festive brilliance to solemn prayerfulness and many shades in  between. 

ECS confronted head-on the dramatic opening movement with full-throated fervour, followed in the  second with a complete change of mood and a beautifully sustained crescendo. Such discernible  dynamic contrasts are always a sign of excellent choral singing. In addition, the various fugal  movements offer challenging and perhaps even hair-raising moments. The final Cum Sancto Spiritu  is a glorious affirmation of Vivaldi's religious faith. 

The two outstanding sopranos, Lisa Swayne and Helen Semple, with their soaring voices and crystal  clear diction, blended harmoniously in Laudamus te as well as in their other interjections. Mezzo  Carolyn Holt was commandingly impressive in her solo movement Qui sedes. Little wonder that  she is party to the universally praised Peter Grimes currently playing at Covent Garden. Peter  Jaekal provided colourful orchestral support from the organ. 

Special  commissions  are a rare  luxury for  choral  societies, not  merely because  of the monies  involved. The  second half of  the concert was  made up of no  fewer than  three works  commissioned  by or written  for ECS over Final rehearsal, 19 March the past 13  years or so. 

2009 was the  250th  anniversary of  Handel's  death. The  choice of I  know that my  redeemer liveth from his  Messiah was a  logical one in  that year to  celebrate the  event with a  special commission. One can only imagine the shadow of Handel bearing heavily down upon any  composer asked to re-tread the path that the great man had trod. 

Cecilia McDowall is a seasoned choral composer. True to form, she cast aside any hint of Handel's  aria and delivered a work brimming with her customary calling card - an aura of simplicity that  belies a detailed and considered structure. The choir brought a luminous quality to this appealing  and accessible anthem, which was accompanied by Peter Jaekel on the piano - a sensitive  8 partnership that never intruded but provided discreet underlying support. It is vintage McDowall  and a fitting 21st century tribute to Handel. 

ECS is blessed in having its own resident composer, Adrian Payne, masquerading as choir member. This, his third composition for the choir, featured in the 2013 Leith Hill Music Festival as well as in  subsequent concerts. I hid my love was a poem written by the romantic poet, John Clare, a few lines  of which were spotted by the composer on a plaque in Kew Gardens. As Payne describes: "the  words gripped me with their atmosphere, haunting meaning and air of mystery - elements that I  wanted to try to capture musically." 

This is a gentle song, sensitively sung and faithfully reflecting the mood of the poem. Structurally,  Payne describes using "close chordings, often including the fourth of the chord set against the  third". This harmonic device pervades throughout and perfectly illustrates the eternal, unresolved  longing of 'hidden love'. 

O Joyful Soul - what a wonderful title for a work  commissioned to celebrate a past member, Cecil Wiltshire  (1920-2015) who sang with ECS for 67 years! The  description of Cecil - 'his devout Christian faith, his love  of countryside and cricket, and his quiet and unassuming  Englishness' - made me wish that I had known him too. 

Jonathan Willcocks, composer and Festival Conductor of  the Leith Hill Musical Festival, was commissioned in  2016. The well crafted result - a composition with five  movements - has a neat and cogent structure. The first  and last movements are settings of psalms, the central  movement is an in memoriam piece, and the second and  Soloist presentation, O Joyful Soul fourth are pastoral settings of poems by Pope (1688-1744)  and Edward Lucas (1863-1938). 

Both the bookend movements make use of the same thematic and rhythmic materials, giving audible  coherence to the work. Imaginative use of the 7/8 metre interspersed with 4/4 propels and  energises. It must have been great fun learning to sing this pulsating music. The introduction of a  soprano solo in the lyrical second and fourth movements adds a gentle and picturesque flavour to  reflect Cecil's love of nature. 

Apparently, the central movement - a setting of Thomas Cranmer (1489-1556) - was sung by  members of St Martin's church choir at Cecil's funeral. The quiet humility of the hymn-like setting  must have presented a truly moving moment during the service. This very English-sounding work  is a worthy tribute to a much loved and loyal member of the choir. I think Cecil would have been  very pleased. 

[Our guest reviewer Lynda Chang is a local pianist with special interest in opera and chamber music.]

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.