Works of the 1970s
The title of the ten-minute The Second Service
style='font-weight:normal;font-style:normal'>, Op. 62 (1971) is puzzling, for
there is no known first service, unless one counts the Magnificat
style='font-style:normal'> and Nunc Dimittis
style='font-style:normal'> (Collegium Magdalenae Oxoniense) of 1959. If this is
the case, then surely opus 62 should be titled The Second Evening
Service, since it consists only of settings
of the two evening canticles. The title is an enigma, but it is clear that the
work is packed with attractive ideas that are convincingly developed. It is a
staple of cathedral and major churches’ repertories.
The soft, intimate opening for trebles and manuals-only
organ accompaniment is perhaps reminiscent of the beginning of Howells’
famous Magnificat in his Collegium
Regale (1945). Like Howells, Leighton leads
from the single boys’ line at the outset to polyphonic imitation, and the
vocal lines are, like the older man’s, slow, melismatic, and
plainsong-like. Leighton’s organ accompaniment of ostinato figures
involving cluster chords sets an intimate reflective tone that is very
appropriate in an “In memoriam” work.16 A lengthy section that
begins with “For he that is mighty” follows this. Here, the
organ’s accompaniment of short, dancing, staccatissimo motifs stand in
sharp contrast to the choir’s bold, more legato, chordal declamation of
the text. During the development in this section, there are instances of
Leighton’s characteristic writing in octaves for the whole choir, and he
also uses the two-part texture that he liked, with soprano and tenor sections
singing the same an octave apart, and altos and basses the other part in
octaves. A calmer mood is introduced at “He remembering his mercy,”
with the choir singing imitative counterpoint that is lyrical and legato, while
the organ, as a counterbalance, provides faster moving, syncopated, rhythmic
motifs that are frequently repeated before being relinquished. The setting of
“Glory be to the Father” contains strong reminiscences of the music
with which the movement began, music that has not been heard since the start.
Following the choir’s a cappella, hushed, mysterious close on C-sharp
major, the organ has the last word in a series of rich, intense repeated
dissonant chords alternating with C-sharp chords.
Marked Molto lento e sostenuto, the organ’s opening of the Nunc Dimittis
style='font-style:normal'> parallels the atmospheric, mysterious mood of the
start of the Magnificat. Again,
there are ostinato figures in the organ accompaniment, as in bars 10-13,
where the ostinato is in the manuals over a pedal point. (Example 6)
The choir, at first hesitant and somewhat aimless, gradually
begins to gather momentum towards the first of the movement’s two
climaxes, at “To be a light to lighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory
of thy people Israel.” In this passage, there is an increase of energy
and volume, and the voices sound more emphatic, due in part to their pairing
off--sopranos and tenors singing the same music in octaves, and,
simultaneously, altos and basses in octaves. The word “glory”
erupts joyfully in florid lines, followed by the voices coming together with
short repeated tones on an A major chords for “Israel.” (Example 7)
The Gloria Patri is reminiscent of the calm, mystical mood of the setting of
Gloria in the Magnificat, but is
shorter. Astringent harmony pervades the soft closing three-fold
“Amen,” but there is peace at the last when the voices finally
settle on an F major chord, and the organ echoes this tonality in a deep,
low-pitched, enchanting whisper.
The ten-minute Awake My Glory
style='font-weight:normal;font-style:normal'>, Op. 79 (1979), for soprano
soloist, SATB choir, and organ, is Leighton’s longest anthem. St.
Mary’s Episcopal Cathedral, Edinburgh, commissioned the work for a
concert in the Cathedral on October 3, 1979, as part of the institution’s
centenary celebrations.17 Since the composer was a member of the congregation
of St. Mary’s, this must have been a particularly special assignment for
him personally, and he responded with an inspired work that is replete with
felicitous eloquence and deeply moving mysticism. The first performance was
give by the Cathedral Choir under the composer’s direction and
accompanied on the organ by his friend, the cathedral’s organist, Dennis
Townhill.18
Awake My Glory falls
into the multi-section, through-composed form of which Leighton is so fond.
Though the excerpt he set to music from the poem On the Eternity of
the Supreme Being (1750) by Christopher
Smart contains no palpably religious references, one might safely infer that
the poet had God in mind in such phrases as “My fellow subjects of the
eternal King,” and “Confess his Presence and report his
praise.” There is also a spiritual ambiance running through the verse.
However, Smart is mainly concerned with depicting dawn and the awakening of the
animals in the countryside, which he does fluently and with great joy. Leighton
is, as usual, extremely responsive to the text, and writes music that is
appropriately graphic--sometimes quite madrigalian, in fact--and
atmospheric.
The composition opens with a lengthy organ prelude depicting
night. Low-pitched, rhythmically vague shifting chords become increasingly
active and loud. This musical impression of dawn’s initial glimmer ushers
in the first of a series of imitative contrapuntal choral sections that occupy
the first half of the work. In the initial polyphonic choral section, the
voices, like heraldic fanfare trumpeters, sing out the words “Awake my
glory” to a rapid ascending motif whose energetic rhythm and melodic
contour are quite Bachian. The voices and organ grow in emotional intensity,
dynamics, and contrapuntal activity, and finally coalesce in a last ecstatic
chordal presentation of “Awake my glory,” after which the music
gradually subsides and comes to a peaceful close.
The ensuing section, marked Molto allegro e leggiero
style='font-style:normal'>, is based on a languorous lyrical setting of the
words “Soon as the stately, night-exploding bird,” accompanied on
the organ by a very dry, bird-like, twittering that is developed along very
similar lines to the first section. Momentum increases little by little as the
poet declares, “List ye! how nature with ten thousand tongues, Begins the
glad thanksgiving,” and joyous choral melismas ring out on the word
“welcome” in the setting of the phrase “In lively lay, sings
welcome to the dawn.”
Various musical techniques are used to unify this work.
Cohesion is achieved through the use, in each of the major sections, of a
constantly evolving motif in the manuals part of the organ accompaniment. This
may be illustrated in a central section of the work, in which the ground swell
of bird song at the words “welcome to the dawn” is described. A
rhythmic eighth-note ostinato motif is introduced at bar 127 in the organ part.
(Example 8) This figure is repeated, and, with each repetition, is exposed to
variation treatment.
At last, the grand fortississimo apotheosis is reached in an
exuberant cacophony of vocal and organ sound at the words “My fellow
subjects of the eternal King, I gladly join your matins and with you Confess
his Presence and report his praise.” (Example 9) Returning to the opening
words of the anthem at the end also has a unifying effect. The choir sings with
pleasure mixed with overtones of sadness the text with which the work began,
“Awake my glory,” after which the organ, alone, cadences on a
simple C major chord.
Last Masses
Between 1972 and Leighton’s death in 1988, five more
Masses were written: The Sarum Mass, Op.
66 (1972), Mass for Ampleforth,
Op. 67 (1973), Missa Cornelia,
Op. 81 (1979), Missa Sancti Petri
(1987), and Missa Christi (1988).
All, except Mass for Ampleforth,
are English settings, and none is longer than fifteen minutes.
Missa Sancti Petri, for SATB choir, soprano, tenor, and bass soloists,
and organ, is a setting of words from the Church of England’s Anglican
Liturgy Rite B, and requires performers of a high caliber.
The Kyrie Eleison,
probably one of the composer’s most sublime religious pieces, resonates
with the human’s feelings of prayerfulness and utter awe as he requests
Christ’s mercy for his sins. Choral imitation and linear counterpoint
provide a dense eerie texture of complex, sonorous sound, that is constantly
sparking with flashes of transient dissonances, while the organ accompanies
with a foundation of supporting rhythmic motivic interjections and sustained
chords. As well as obeisance and reverential wonder, the mood is also one of
uneasiness, almost of agony, which is injected into the music partly through
the syncopations, including Scotch snap rhythms. The rhythmic freedom, together
with the gently undulating, lyrical vocal lines, is reminiscent of medieval
plainsong, especially the two highly melismatic solo tenor phrases, marked Più
calma, un po’ liberamente, that rise
and fall over sustained organ chords. The movement ends with references to the
melodic idea with which the movement began.
The Gloria in Excelsis Deo is through composed, and divided into clearly marked contrasting
sections. In order to create a sense of homogeneity in this long movement,
Leighton engineers a certain amount of unity by means of repeated bass patterns
in the organ accompaniment that frequently undergo metamorphosis, and are
usually accompaniments for passages of choral imitative counterpoint. For
instance, cohesion is provided in the brilliant, majestic, fortissimo opening
setting of the words “Glory to God on high,” by the organ’s
four-note, conjunct-motion, descending pattern that is never repeated at the
same pitch.
The setting of the next lines of text, beginning with
“We praise thee, we worship thee,” is similar, and equally
sparkling. The vivacious, fanfare-like, and highly ornamented choral melodic
idea is set in imitative contrapuntal style, supported by an organ part that
not only has a repeated, ever-changing descending pedal pattern, but also a
motif that is treated imitatively for the manuals. As the section draws to a
close, the densely textured counterpoint is reduced to a two-part, canon-like,
6/8, lilting stretto, between sopranos and tenors singing simultaneously the
same line in octaves, and the altos and basses singing the other line in
octaves, while the organ articulates bold cluster chords in syncopated duple
meter. The section ends with the voices and organ finally coalescing on a
sustained chord on the last word of “For thy great glory.”
“For thou only art holy” is set as a peaceful
and quiet a cappella two-voice canon for
sopranos. This brief moment of quiet reflection is short-lived, and the final
cataclysmic buildup to the Gloria’s end begins.
The surge to the final climax is inaugurated by the choir,
which sings out happily “Thou only O Christ, with the Holy Ghost art most
high” in imitative counterpoint, over an organ part that is reminiscent
of the accompaniment to the setting of “We praise thee, we worship
thee” earlier in the movement. Over heavy sustained organ cluster chords,
the choral “Amen” is set in complex imitative counterpoint, based
on a motif that opens with reminiscences of the idea with which the Kyrie
Eleison movement started.
There is a return to the swinging, 6/8 melodic idea heard
previously at the opening of the Gloria for the Sanctus section of the third
movement. The start consists of a brilliant choral passage in imitative
polyphonic style, with a flamboyant organ accompaniment. The cut and thrust of
this imitative linear counterpoint continues with a new melodic idea in the
setting of “Glory be to thee, O Lord most high.” While the voices
weave a tapestry of cogently argued counterpoint, the organ has a contrapuntal
part based on an oscillating sixteenth note figure. This energetic hustle and
bustle of choral and organ sound eventually comes to a halt on an extremely
acrid cluster chord, followed by a general pause.
The extreme mental anguish and pain in the setting of the
first part of the Agnus Dei, “O
lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world,” may call to mind the
morbidity of the composer’s Crucifixus Pro Nobis
style='font-style:normal'>, Op. 38 (1961), especially the “Christ in His
Passion” movement of that work. In any case, both the Agnus Dei
style='font-style:normal'> text from this Mass and the “Christ in His Passion”
words of the earlier composition, deal with Christ’s sacrifice on the
cross as the expiation for the Christians’ sins. However, the dissonances
in the Agnus Dei are even more
searingly acrid than in the cantata movement. In particular, one might note the
composer’s use of some of his favorite dissonances: simultaneous seconds,
and augmented fourths and diminished fifths. Anguish and pain felt by Christ on
the cross, and by grieving witnesses of his fate, are expressed in the angular,
awkward vocal lines, notably the ascending major and minor seventh leaps.
Clearly, this expresses gravely troubling feelings about human sin. The anxiety
expressed here perhaps also reflects a facet of the personality of the
composer, for, although usually a very positive kind of person, he suffered
extreme bouts of depression on several occasions during his life, and
throughout his career made excessively high demands of himself as a composer.19
Rejoicing, Leighton reaches the high ground of salvation and confidence in the
final section, “Grant us they peace.” Here, the dissonances of the
tenor solo are disturbing, but there is relative calm in the choral writing,
and, after the voices have finished, the organ’s final three sustained
chords of A-flat major, F major, and D major leave one calm and optimistic.
Leighton’s enduring affection for writing church music, and his
outstanding gifts in the field, are
reflected marvelously in these closing pages of movingly
beautiful, ethereal music.
