Here is my take for what it’s worth.

In the Bach Cantata the choir demonstrated excellent control, with beautifully judged crescendos and decrescendos that gave the music shape and expression without ever becoming excessive. The balance between the orchestra and the different sections of the choir was very well achieved. The men’s voices were a particular strength, producing a rich, firm and resonant foundation, while the sopranos brought clarity and a lovely brightness to the upper lines. The overall choral sound was disciplined yet warm, reflecting careful musical direction from Carlos.

The Holberg Suite provided an interesting and, in my view, unwelcome contrast. Grieg’s romantic musical language is rather removed from the Baroque character of the Bach and Vivaldi, and I found the change of style somewhat out of keeping with the overall Baroque influence of the programme. Nevertheless, it was a competent and well-played rendition, and the orchestra handled the work with assurance.

Without doubt, Vivaldi’s Gloria was the highlight of the afternoon. The bright, lively and confident opening immediately captured the joyful character of the work. Once again, the men’s voices were outstanding. They brought considerable strength and richness to the ensemble, particularly in Et in terra pax, while the tenors were especially impressive in Gratias agimus tibi. Their contribution throughout the work gave the choir a strong and satisfying foundation. The very best I have experienced. Well done.

The sopranos deserve special mention for the clarity and shine of their voices. They brought brilliance to Vivaldi’s writing without sacrificing musicality, adding considerably to the joyful character of the Gloria. Sophie Hamer and mezzo-soprano Elizabeth Cooper particularly impressed in Laudamus te, their voices complementing each other beautifully.

Elizabeth Cooper also sang Domine Deus and Agnus Dei with great sensitivity. Her warm mezzo-soprano was particularly effective in these more reflective movements. The Agnus Dei, traditionally written for alto, was nevertheless very well suited to her mezzo voice, bringing both depth and tenderness to the music.

The final Cum Sancto Spiritu was superb. The men’s voices again made a strong impression, combining power with good precision, while the sopranos added the brightness and lift characteristic of Vivaldi. The performance built naturally towards an exhilarating conclusion.

Above all, the outstanding feature of the Gloria was the balance achieved between the soloists, choir and orchestra. Each element could be heard clearly, yet none overwhelmed the others. That sense of proportion, combined with the strength of the men’s voices, the clarity of the sopranos and the sensitive solo singing, made the Vivaldi a particularly memorable performance. As I said to both you and Carlos after the concert: “As good as it gets.”

Overall, this was a concert of considerable musical quality. Carlos brought out the contrasting character of the works while maintaining a strong sense of ensemble and balance. The Choir can take great pride in a performance that was disciplined, expressive and, above all, musically rewarding. I felt the Choir actually enjoyed singing the Vivaldi. The strings standing to play projected beautifully and, in my view, was a masterstroke.

Bloody well done all.

It’s always the same, the day after an MWC concert.  I do not seem to be able to settle to anything.  I flit about like a butterfly, alighting here and there, dabbling in this and that, ending the day with a to-do list which is longer that it was at the start of the day.  In the past, I have reflected that it’s a good job that I am not still employed, because any contribution I might make to the corporate cause on such days would be minimal.

And Monday this week was no different.  I suppose that I was basking in the afterglow of such a wonderful concert.  Member after member of the audience spoke of their pleasure at hearing such beautiful music performed with spirit and true feeling.  Some comments focused on the orchestra, some on the soloists – matched musically and temperamentally was one comment – and some on the Choir.  For myself, the highlight of the afternoon was sitting between the sopranos and altos as they encored the second movement of the Bach.  As the dulcet tones of their matching phrases criss-crossed the stage, it felt like sitting in a hot tub, buoyant to the point of being weightless and surrounded by soothing warmth and comfort.  Heaven?  I have no idea, but I hope it’s something like that should I get there.

And that’s only one thing.  Many people put in a lot of effort to produce Sunday’s concert.  The logistics of the show are huge, and it is great that so many people step up and happily help out, as, without that effort, the concerts would not happen.  Maybe the afterglow is not just of the music, but of the satisfaction of working with a team of lovely people to achieve a worthwhile result.

Noami Roseth writes of her response to Bach’s Cantatas, particularly BWV 4.

A few of us periodically join the Illawarra Choral Society concert.  It is an accomplished choir and they don’t really ‘need’ us but it is a pleasant outing, the singers are hospitable and share our love of choral music so we enjoy joining them.  Last year in one of their twice-yearly concerts they performed Faure’s Requiem and Bach’s Cantata No 4 – ‘Christ lag in Todes Banden’.  I have sung the Requiem several times – always a joy.  But the Bach Cantata was entirely new to me.  I listened to it on YouTube in preparation to the Wollongong concert and was absolutely hooked from the first moment.  And the more I rehearsed it, the more I felt connected to this music.  There is something so soothing and deep about it.  I have been through some stressful times of late and I find that listening to this cantata lifts and calms me.

So I got interested in Bach’s cantatas.  Google tells me that there are 200 of them but a glance through YouTube suggests there are a lot more.  I decided to make a project out of it and systematically listen to them all, starting with no. 1 and working my way through to the last one.  I planned to listen to a cantata a day, but that of course does not work.  There are some days in which no time for cantatas can be found.

I am up to No 76 now.  I have a way to go.  I listen to the rendition by the Netherland Bach Society, or to John Eliott Gardiner’s recording.  There are several excellent recordings of German Bach societies.  There isn’t any among those 76 that is not pleasant.  This is Bach, after all.  He just did not write anything that is not pleasant.  Some are more engaging than others but so far none of them does for me what this No 4 does.  I enjoy them all, I reflect about the miracle of Bach’s genius and his gift to us, but none of them lifts, stirs and fills me with joy as that No 4 does.  And none of them has that delightful shimmering filigree-like Hallelujah chorus.

But it’s early days.  Will I find another one that means so much to me?  I wonder.  In the meantime, I so enjoy rehearsing that No 4.

Thank you, Naomi.

“Christ lay in death’s dark prison.”  Why does a piece of music with so sombre a title engage so many musicians, our own beloved Carlos amongst them?

To attempt an answer, I turned to a few websites and to John Eliot Gardiner’s comprehensive book on Bach, “Music in the Castles of Heaven.”  What follows is by no means a comprehensive answer, but hopefully a starting point for anyone who might like to investigate further.

The 1600’s were dark times in that part of Germany where the Bach family of musicians lived and worked.  Wars and pestilence were rife, creating unsettled conditions for producing even basic foodstuffs.  Man’s expected lifespan was around 30 years, much less than the Biblical threescore years and ten.  Johann Sebastian was an orphan by his eleventh birthday, and spent his teenage years tossed between the households of an uncle and an elder brother.  Child deaths were frequent; Bach himself lost his first wife at a tender age, and 12 of his 22 children before maturity.  Death was always just around the corner, from illness, famine and fighting.

Johann Sebastian had the apparent good fortune of being sent to the school where, over 100 years previously, Martin Luther had been a pupil.  Of course, Martin Luther was considered a rebel in his own lifetime, but over the intervening century his revolutionary ideas had taken hold as they resonated with the places and times.  Church services owed much to Luther, especially in the hymns which he composed for use in worship.  He is reported to have once said, “Why should the devil get all the good tunes?” and was not beyond writing hymns to be sung to popular folk songs, still in regular use in Bach’s day.

School was not all it seemed.  There was no discipline; children seemed to do what they liked, and Johann Sebastian was no different.  Perhaps he was bored because there was no one to stimulate his emerging talent and vivid imagination, so he was frequently absent.

Bach felt Luther’s influence very strongly.  At that time, explanations for many issues such as illness, natural disasters and so-on were non-existent.  Something had to explain the ups and downs of life, the good and the bad, the right and the wrong.  Faith was essential to survival, and Luther’s brand of faith was well accepted.  Luther felt he was doing God’s work on earth:  Bach also felt that he was doing God’s work.  Luther was bringing people to an understanding of God and of Christianity through words.  Bach felt that he was called to do the same thing through music.

Bach composed Cantata BWV 4 at the age of 22, whilst applying for a job as organist at the church in his home town.  It is likely that he was keen to show his prospective employers just how a cantata should be written.

The words are a hymn by Martin Luther.  They seem dour and forbidding.  But it soon becomes apparent that they are not about death, but about life.  Each verse is a different way of affirming that life triumphs over death, that Christ triumphs over Satan, that right triumphs over wrong.  Hence it is that every one of the seven verses, however sombre the opening words, concludes with at least one “Hallelujah!” and in most cases many resounding “Hallelujahs!”

In the music, Bach’s revolutionary and rebellious streak comes out.  He uses Luther’s original chorale as a base, sung by different voices in each movement, and he ornaments it unendingly for dramatic effect.  He illuminates and embellishes the text as the music does more than just reflect the words: the two are completely intertwoven and indivisible. He uses striking changes of key and other musical devices to good effect.  Perhaps most dramatically, at the end of the first chorus he switches without warning from slow and meditative to fast and furious.  Imagine hearing that for the first time one Sunday morning in 1707!

Bach was not a saint.  He was arrogant.  He continually argued with his employers.  He spoke ill of those who attended divine service and did not bother with the music.  But this was just his frustration at these people getting in the way of his calling: to write the most imaginative music to bring glory to God, the fount of all belief, and in so doing to strengthen the faith of believers whilst also bringing non-believers into faith.

I hope this reflection helps to put the Cantata in context and helps everyone to fully enjoy rehearsing and performing this wonderful music.

To everyone in the Manly–Warringah Choir
I want to share a few thoughts after Sunday’s concert — not as a critic, but as someone who listens closely, cares about choral music, and recognises the work, discipline, and heart that go into a performance like this.
The programme you took on was no small undertaking. Mozart, Haydn, and the full Requiem in one afternoon is a challenge for any ensemble, and you approached it with commitment and courage.

Te Deum & Ave Verum Corpus.The opening Te Deum had tremendous energy, even if the brass and timpani occasionally made life difficult for you. None of that diminished the intent behind your singing.
But the moment you moved into Ave Verum Corpus, everything settled beautifully. The balance, the warmth, the phrasing — it was simply lovely. You treated the piece with real empathy, and it showed.

Haydn Concerto.  Simon Wolnitzer gave a steady, well‑shaped performance in the Haydn. It was a pleasure to hear the orchestra in a different role before the Requiem.

Mozart Requiem.  Once you began the Requiem, the whole room felt the shift. This is music that asks a lot of a choir — stamina, precision, emotional depth — and you rose to it.  The Kyrie had drive and clarity.  The Dies Irae was full of fire.  The Rex Tremendae had real weight and shape.  And the Lacrimosa was beautifully paced and genuinely moving.

The Soloists.The quartet blended with a natural ease throughout the afternoon.
Molly Ryan’s soprano carried with purity and poise; Amelia Blond brought warmth and steadiness; Spencer Darby shaped his tenor lines with clarity; and Matthew Avery’s rich, resonant baritone grounded the ensemble with real authority.

The Tuba Mirum — A Moment to Treasure. For me, the most unforgettable moment of the afternoon came in the Tuba Mirum.  The trombone solo was played with such restraint and warmth that it created a stillness in the room — and when Molly entered, her voice had a purity that matched it perfectly. The gentle conversation between the two was tender, human, and deeply affecting. It was the kind of moment that reminds us why we sing, why we listen, and why this music endures.

Sanctus to the End. The Sanctus was bold, the Benedictus beautifully shaped by the soloists, and the Agnus Dei brought everything home with dignity and focus. The final return of the opening material felt earned — a true closing of the circle.

In Closing.Yes, there were moments when the modern brass overpowered you — that’s the nature of the modern instruments, not a reflection on your singing. What mattered was the musical intention, the unity of sound, and the emotional honesty you brought to the performance.  And on those counts, you succeeded.

Before I finish, I want to acknowledge something else. After two hours of singing some of the most demanding music in the repertoire — after the concentration, the stamina, the emotional commitment — it seems profoundly unfair that you are then required to put down your scores, pick up a plate, and serve food and wine to the very audience you’ve just moved. Yet you do it with grace, generosity, and good humour, and we all gratefully enjoy the results. It’s another quiet reminder of the spirit of this choir: you give far more than your voices.

It was a performance to be proud of — thoughtful, committed, and full of heart. Thank you for the work you put in, and for giving your audience an afternoon of music that will stay with us.

George Paul