Tomorrow: Stravinsky and Mozart

It’s all over but the actual singing.  Over 6 hours of, well, fairly brutal rehearsals later, with our brains stuffed full of notes and tiny adjustments, we’re ready for another great Tanglewood performance tomorrow night on stage in the Shed.  If you can’t be there in person, you can hear it in Boston on 99.5 FM, or streaming online.  Our concert starts at 8:30pm on Friday, July 16.

Why were the rehearsals brutal?  It wasn’t just the heat.  It was that Maestro Michael Tilson Thomas (“MTT”) is a nerd of a conductor (and I say that as a compliment.)  In other words, he is a technician as much as an artist.  As such, he is questioning and doubling back over almost every entrance, every nuance, every layer of sound.  He’s completely hands-on with the orchestra:  “Add a diminuendo in measure 6.  Make measure 15 poco meno forte so that we can hear the alto’s low notes.  Let’s go back and try the beginning again… no wait, stop, it doesn’t have the right character, make it warmer.  Let’s try it again.”  These are the things he will say in the course of a few minutes.  Repeat over two 2-3 hour rehearsals today, after 2+ hours with just him and the chorus yesterday .   We’d do a movement from start to finish, and then he’d tell us it was really great.  REALLY great.  Except… well, there’s just a few minor things to touch up…. and then we painstakingly go back through (forward or backward) and pick it apart.

So it can be a bit maddening, and sometimes you’re not really sure whatever adjustment he’s making is really going to have any effect in the long run.  But you have to admire his persistence.  He knows what he wants and he will interrupt and make us sing it again until we nail the particular character he’s looking for.  It’s nice to have such attention to detail and if we remember half of the things he’s told us we’ll have an excellent performance.  Nevertheless, it can be frustrating to keep starting and stopping and never really get a sense for the larger arc of the piece.

The Stravinsky Symphony of Psalms makes a lot more sense to us now than it did when we were learning it by the book and the recording.  Relationships between notes, rhythms, values, and tempos are a lot clearer.  The character of the piece shines through and we’re communicating it more efficiently.  Many choristers already sang this a few years ago but it didn’t have MTT’s touch.  (And did I mention he’s “hands on”?)  The pleading of the first movement, followed by the reflective second movement, and then the joyous dancing of prayers answered in the third — all should be captured well in our performance.

The Mozart Requiem has been a bit of an adventure as well.  Most of us think we know it pretty well, having sung it a few times either with the TFC or other choruses.  But MTT is looking for some specifics that I certainly hadn’t heard before, and they definitely make it better.  Subtle interplays between alto-bass and soprano-tenor dynamic and rhythmic counterpoints, where one group swells while another fades. A prayerful, solemn character added to some of the quieter parts that have often just been belted out in other choruses.  Some phrasing choices I hadn’t heard before.  The end result is a Mozart Requiem that is decidedly his own.

I hope the soloists are up to the task — the men are described as “up and coming” in their bios, and although they all have the pedigrees and the operatic voices, they didn’t seem to carry as well in the Shed during rehearsal.  But of course I was just spoiled by Stephanie Blythe singing Mahler’s 2nd last weekend, and her voice could fill up the entire western half of the state if she wanted it to.

Hope you hear it!

Reviews of Mahler 2nd

The reviews are in!  And they’re pretty darn glowing.  Well, mostly.

Jeremy Eichler of the Boston Globe praised Michael Tilson Thomas for his ability to draw different emotional contexts out of the various movements.  About us, he wrote:

Mahler’s finale is one of the most memorable in his oeuvre, full of hair-raising music depicting the end of days, but also containing some of his most spellbindingly quiet passages, as in the hushed first entrances of the enormous chorus. The TFC here sounded magnificent, as it did singing at full throttle.

Lloyd Schwartz of the Boston Phoenix spent most of his digital ink talking about the intricacies of the performance, with more (well-deserved) praise for Stephanie Blythe’s voice than for the chorus itself.

Clarence Fanto of  Berkshire Living was more effusive, saying it was no surprise that MTT’s interpretation would be a “magnificent, insightful, thoughtful and viscerally thrilling performance.”

Superlatives abound whenever John Oliver’s chorus performs; the singers’ hushed entrance in the final movement (mysterious, very slow and a triple-pianissimo as Mahler instructed) was as delicate yet well-articulated as imaginable. When Tilson Thomas urged them on to sing triple-forte for the final lines of Mahler’s text (“Die shall I in order to live…”), their exclamation of joyous redemption lifted the rafters skyward.

The performance was so tightly focused and unblemished technically — even the off-stage brasses and the distant marching band — that an instant CD or MP3 download could be released with no touchups required. Some of us would gladly pay for the privilege of owning a memento of this memorable event.

Well, then!

Meanwhile, the more austere Berkshire Eagle was very harshly critical, calling the performance a “bumpy ride” and “idiosyncratic.”  The writer acknowledge MTT’s style as closer to Bernstein’s, but derided him for lacking Bernstein’s “structural coherence and molded sound.”  It sounds like Andrew Pincus was lashing out for the absence of James Levine, blaming the performance on “a visiting conductor” and comparing MTT’s “swirling, stabbing demands” unfavorably to “Levine’s more measured, though no less visceral, approach.”  Time to get over it, people!  We may not see James “J.D. Drew” Levine again.  About us, he acknowledged:

From its hushed first entry – one of the most stunning moments in all music – the Tanglewood Festival Chorus rose to almighty thunder in the concluding ode.

And because Tanglewood is regarded as a New York activity as much as a Boston one (you should’ve heard the concert-goer who told me afterwards that the performance was “auw’asum“), the New York Times weighed in too. Anthony Tommasini wrote a lot about the absence of James Levine, but he also delved into the performance.  He praised MTT for bringing “lucid textures and structural coherence” to the otherwise disparate movements of the work.  About us, he gave a passing of-course-they-were-good nod of appreciation:

[MTT] drew brilliant playing from the orchestra, magisterial singing from the Tanglewood Festival Chorus and inspired performances from the two vocal soloists […]  In the “Resurrection” poem by Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock, with Mahler’s added verses, the always impressive Tanglewood Festival Chorus (directed by John Oliver) sang with robust sound and sensitivity.

A New York Times blog post by Daniel Wakin included snippets of an interview with MTT about how he chose to interpret the piece, but the interesting thing there are the comments by the musical literati.  Some called MTT’s Mahler “the best there is” and others condemned him for making changes to the composer’s notes or called his conducting style superficial and showy.

Quite a roundup.  My thoughts on the performance will follow in the next post.

Cacophony of Psalms: First rehearsal

The first true rehearsal for the Cacophony of Psalms felt great.  Okay, it’s called Symphony of Psalms, technically, and I’m actually starting to enjoy the piece as I delve further and further into it.  But this is another one of those boy is the audience screwed if they’re hearing it for the first time sort of pieces.  You know… the songs that, once properly studied, I really begin to enjoy… but it takes several listening sessions to get comfortable with the… call it the sonority.

Here’s the first movement, in all its mechanical WTF-is-going-on glory:

There are 2nd and 3rd movement recordings here and here as well, if you make it through that one.  The whole piece is only about 20 minutes.

It was comforting to have John Oliver tell us that he was specifically looking for a mécanique style coming from the chorus to emulate the helter-skelter clock mechanism of the piano and accompanying instruments.  Time values snap into place with little or no rubato.  He doesn’t want anyone gliding between notes.  (One great Oliverism: in a later movement, the tenors move from an e-natural to an e-flat over a few beats, and John cautioned them: “That’s an express… it’s not a local train. You shouldn’t be making five stops along the way… go right from one note to the other.”)

I really appreciated John being so involved in the rehearsal–this is not a piece that can be done on autopilot nor one he can leave to the conductor to make adjustments.  He had insightful comments such as “you’re on the right note but your color is wrong.”  He warned some of us that we weren’t at the center of a pitch where we needed to hold a dissonance against the other parts.  He stopped us a few times to ask for a more focused, brighter vowel so we’d cut through the orchestration.  At one point he told us it was okay to open up and just make a very raw sound, because “the brass are so loud there they’ll cover it all up.”  Finally, at one point during a held long note on a diminuendo, he cautioned that many of us were “parking” on the note–we couldn’t just get softer and stop, we needed to finish the whole phrase and that meant a continuous decrescendo throughout the note.  “Don’t give up on it.”

John spent a little extra time with us basses on a few parts, such as making sure we landed on our opening G in the YouTube clip I’ve linked.  Though, as any time the director singles out a section to work with, you find yourself wondering after each comment, “Is he talking about ME?  Or the people next to me?  I *think* I was singing that right… hmmmm.”  I’ve been in at least one chorus where the conductor literally would keep breaking down a section into smaller and smaller parts (“just the back row… just you five people…”) until he found out who was screwing up.  Fortunately, John trusts us enough to figure it out.  It’s a powerful feeling… being surrounded by other very competent singers and working together to go beyond the notes and make something beautiful.  Well…. beautiful in its awe-inspiring mechanical spookiness, at least!

Being Selected to Be Visible

A 12-member TFC chorus had the distinct pleasure of singing the National Anthem with the Boston Pops for Game 5 of the Celtics this week.  Take a look:

A brief discussion broke out on some of our internal mailing lists and various Facebook pages, because these are the same 12 people who sang the national anthem at a Red Sox game.  In general, it’s clear that there is an “A-list” of singers who are invited more often to participate in television appearances and other special events (like when James Taylor needed some backup singers for his Tanglewood concert, recently.)

First of all, frankly speaking, those A-list singers are absolutely some of our best singers and they totally deserve to get the nod.  Secondly, everyone is VERY happy that the TFC was represented at the Celtics game, and vicariously thrilled for the 12 people who got to sing.  I don’t think anyone wishes them ill.  But, given the type-A extroverted go-get-’em personalities that almost by necessity make up the chorus, one can’t help but wish that they’d “spread the love around” and allow other singers a chance to make these appearances.

The way that chorus members are selected for rosters and gigs has always been (and will continue to be) a mysterious process.  Musical abilities come into play: your singing ability, the characteristics of your voice,  how you blend with others who might be chosen, and the work that’s being sung.  Dependability enters into it too: are you on time or frequently late?  Have you backed out of any performances at the last minute?  Did you still need your music when we were supposed to be off-book?  Chorus members joke that they only pick beautiful people to be on camera; doubtful, but certainly more energetic, emotive singers probably add a little something.  And I’m sure devotion to the chorus enters into it: some people have considerable seniority over others, some people have served on the Chorus Committee, some people have volunteered for extra Holiday Pops concerts or other tasks.  It all adds up to a decision that is handed down from the director and the chorus manager.

I’m Just Another Bass, and don’t expect to be selected for these sorts of things.  My voice is good but not operatic or dominating; I still need to work on the mechanics of my voice so that I sing more efficiently and more consistently.  But I think I know the role I’ve carved out in the chorus.  I’m great at hitting very low notes like in the Mahler 2nd.  I’m dependable and reliable.  And, I’ve been successful as a late addition to a roster when someone cancels out — I’ve jumped in with a few weeks to go and memorized very painful text (Oedipus Rex and its very nonstandard Latin comes to mind).  My goal isn’t to sing at the Celtics game.  My goal is to be good enough, in all the categories I listed, to be considered to sing at the Celtics game!

The most orgasmic 5 minutes of choral music ever

Got your attention?  Did I grab a few search engines somewhere? Well there’s no actual sexual content here.  Just my undying admiration for the last 5 minutes of Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony.

I have a lot of favorite choral moments from my singing history.  The 4th day of In the Beginning.  The Warlich moment in Bach’s St. Matthew Passion, or the last sung phrase of the MacMillan Passion we recently performed. And, hell, let’s just thrown in pretty much all of the Verdi Requiem and the Brahms Requiem.  And there’s a vast library of choral music I haven’t sung yet (you know… being just a bass and all.)  But the ending of the Mahler is still my all-time favorite moment in choral singing.  Really, just listen…

I love love LOVE everything about this piece.  Some singers like to complain that we only sing for the last 10 minutes or so of the piece, in the fourth movement, when everything is all over.  Not me.  I wish I could sing this piece every weekend.  It encapsulates some of the greatest parts of being a choral singer.  The full dynamic range, from ppp to fff (this clips is just the fff part).  The full note range for a bass, from a low almost impossible to sing B-flat up to the high G above middle C that represents tenor territory.  (Thank goodness the low B-flat is ppp and the high G is fff.)  The orchestra throwing in everything they got, with bells loco and the brass fanfares soaring over everyone’s heads.  The quiet parts set up the loud parts.

The best part, by far, is standing in the middle of it all.  Singers are totally taken along for the ride.  The hair stands up on the back of your neck.  It’s impossible NOT to feel passion stirring within you as you lustily sing.  This is the orgasmic part – this steady build up of sound, layer upon layer, wave upon wave, as the chorus builds up to the final triumphant proclamation, WE WILL RISE AGAIN!   Auferstehn!  Ja, auferstehn! I get goosebumps even listening to a recording.

Oh, and no recording does justice to Mahler’s 2nd, either.  Most have to do some sort of dynamic compression, boosting the quiet and tempering the loud to save your speakers.  Even still, you’re always fiddling with the volume knob, straining to hear the quiet initial chorus entrance, and trying not to be blown away by the majesty of the piece’s conclusion.  It’s an avalanche of sound that can’t be represented by any recording, only by BEING there in the audience, or (better yet) on the risers.

Rosters are up… and yay!

When the email arrived telling us that our choral director had finished hand picking the rosters for this summer’s Tanglewood concerts, I opened it with pretty low expectations.  There were only three choral weekends at Tanglewood this year:

  • Friday, July 9th: TFC Prelude concert and Mahler’s 2nd (“Resurrection”) Symphony.
  • Friday, July 16th: Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms and Mozart’s Requiem. Then that Saturday, Mahler’s 3rd Symphony (women only).
  • August 29-31st: Performances of Poulenc’s Gloria, Bach’s Jesu meine Freude, an appearance for the women in Holst’s The Planets, and everyone’s favorite battleaxe, Beethoven’s 9th.

Slim pickings for “just another bass.”  I was hoping to get into yet another performance of Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony, which I had done with the chorus last year.  After all, it’s the perfect gig — not only one of my favorite pieces but also a pretty light rehearsal schedule, since the chorus sings only for about 10 minutes at the end of the piece.  Heck, I could probably sing it tomorrow if I needed to, I only need an hour or two to refresh the German text in my head.  The Stravinsky/Mozart program was a repeat from a previous fall season, so I figured they’d stick with the same roster.  Maybe I’d get into the third weekend?  Shrug.

Well!  It turns out that not only was I in Mahler’s 2nd, both me and my wife were asked to jump in for the 2nd weekend as well!  With her singing Mahler’s 3rd on Saturday.  AND… though I couldn’t swing the rehearsal schedule… I was asked to be part of a 5-day Pops concert series in May.

I can’t tell you how many warm fuzzies this gives a singer.  Singing is all about confidence, but it’s easy when you’re a casual singer (i.e., wasn’t your focus in college, not currently taking regular lessons) to think you’re not up to snuff compared to all the “professionals.”  But that “he likes me, he really likes me!” moment when you see the roster selections is just the best.

Now… uhhhh… the other reason I was probably chosen.  I’m pretty good at memorizing and playing catch up.  That’ll be put to the test, because there are literally two rehearsals of the Stravinsky/Mozart program before the Tanglewood residency, since most people on the roster sang it last time around.  There’s a 2 hour “catch up” rehearsal for newbies on the roster, and a run-through down at Symphony Hall.  For everything else?  I’m on my own, with the score and a recording coming in the mail soon. Yikes!

More reviews of the MacMillan performance

Some other chorus members did dig up a few more reviews. From classicalsource.com, this review by Susan Stempleski talked about the composition in general, and then included the following observations about the actual performance.  (You know, the part we chorus members scan through to find to see what nice or mean things people say about us.)

Davis led an outstanding performance of MacMillan’s complex, highly theatrical score. Every section of the orchestra played its party superbly. The Tanglewood Festival Choristers sang with splendid diction and obvious relish, displaying an extraordinary range of sound. As Christ, Christopher Maltman delivered a magnificent performance of a highly demanding role. He and the choral singers were at their most impressive and intense in ‘The Reproaches’, the piece’s most ‘operatic’ section, in which Christ, hanging from the Cross, strongly rebukes his people for allowing his human sufferings.

We’ll take it.  Though, unfortunately, the Reproaches is probably the least interesting part to sing from the chorus’s perspective… we just sing the same lines three times.  It’s really a showcase for the soloist.

The other strong, rather lengthy review comes from Matthew Guerrieri of The Faster Times.  As with most reviewers of a premiering piece like this, he writes extensively about the composition itself, though I found his analysis to be more in-depth and worthy of a read than other things I’d seen online.  As for the performance itself, he writes:

The performance was excellent, the orchestra game for whatever bright swath of paint MacMillan threw their way. The chorus reveled in the opportunity for sheer visceral impact—as is the Tanglewood Festival Chorus’s wont—but also produced some spellbinding clouds; sometimes the singers pared their straight-tone softnesses down to dangerously airless production, but their Marian vision, for example, was a lovely saturated quiet. Davis’s conducting was unostentatiously effective; it’s an achievement to lead a performance this good of a piece this massive without calling attention to oneself, but Davis not only kept everybody on track, he kept everybody committed to the musical effect.

Always nice to get more than a few words thrown our way, especially by a reviewer who obviously appreciated the time and effort into not only learning the piece but also achieving the unusual effects that the composer was going for.

Reviews of the MacMillan

Last night felt like a pretty successful performance of the piece — all our hard work paid off.  Something I realized, though, as the orchestra tuned up and I looked out at a Hall that was at best about two-thirds full… Holiday Pops performances are for the crowd, but BSO performances are for the music.  They can like it or leave it — and, yes, a few people got up and left in the middle of the piece, and I think some did not return after intermission — but we’re performing it because the music must be performed.

The first review has come in.  Jeremy Eichler of the Boston Globe, known for being a bit curmudgeonly about the Boston music scene, wrote a review briefly praising the performances of the soloist, conductor, and choruses:

The soloist (here the excellent Christopher Maltman)…. The performance under Davis was exemplary, with the Tanglewood Festival Chorus in particular doing superb work with such a demanding score.

He spends most of the review criticizing the piece compositionally,

MacMillan’s work has many fascinating moments and some inspired passages of choral and instrumental writing. But last night the score, to these ears, did not add up to more than the sum of its parts….

But it was hard to discern a unifying compositional voice amidst the deluge of influences (from Bach to Lutoslawski). MacMillan has a knack for theatrical gestures, but the parts I found most compelling were the least pictorial moments, when the composer freed himself from literal representation of the narrative and let his formidable sonic imagination roam, as in the absorbing final movement, full of muscular and expansive orchestral writing. MacMillan generally struggled to draw out the universal tropes from the particulars of this narrative, but when he did, the work blossomed, as in the music written for the poignant meeting of Jesus and his mother.

I will agree on one thing … I don’t think the music has a unifying compositional voice amidst the deluge of influences.. I’m not sure it’s intended to.  MacMillan effectively told us that himself when he sat and spoke with us, that he was influenced from a lot of different musical directions, that this is what happens when liturgical chant and opera (and Scottish traditions) collide.  The difference of course is I think it works, and Eichler does not.

Another article appeared in the Berkshire Review this morning, but it was a preview article.  It reviews the London Symphony Orchestra recording, “whether or not you are going to the BSO performances this week.”  It also had some prophetic words as well:

The first question—unfortunately—even relatively experienced listeners of contemporary music ask is “just who is this guy?” which can be translated as “is he conservative or experimental? Am I going to be able to sit through it?” Last week at Carnegie Hall I saw a few people walk out at the prospect of twelve minutes of Schoenberg. At ninety minutes MacMillan’s Passion will require somewhat more patience, but I can reassure the fearful that anyone who is familiar with Britten will be comfortable with MacMillan, although his style ranges freely from medieval models to the harshly dissonant and the microtonal. I believe the audience will be struck by the Passion as an intense dramatic narrative alternating with the contemplative, which is already inherent in much of the Catholic and Protestant Good Friday liturgies, as well as J. S. Bach’s Lutheran treatments.

The view from the stage

Ever wonder what it’s like to sit on stage at Symphony Hall?  I grabbed my Flip camera and got a shot of the view from the stage risers, minutes before the orchestra rehearsal started.  For me, it’s that Fenway Park feeling… the feeling you get as you walk up the ramp to find your seats and see the green of the ballfield… sitting on stage in the chorus risers as the orchestra assembles and you survey the empty Hall, the orchestra members, and the chorus… (and of course, Eryk.)  It’s not butterflies or anxiety.  Just a feeling that IT’S SHOWTIME and LET’S GET THIS SUCKER STARTED as you look forward to the event itself.

Lunch with the composer

The Tanglewood Festival Chorus had the distinct pleasure of being able to have lunch with James MacMillan today during the break between the morning and the afternoon orchestra rehearsals.  A good 40 or 50 people took him up on the offer and we crammed into a conference room upstairs.  He thanked us profusely for our attention and study of the piece and complimented us on how great it sounded in rehearsal.  Then we peppered him with questions, which he graciously answered.  (I wondered if our brash American vowels sounded as quaint to him as his Scottish brogue did to our ears.)  I took some notes, below… they’re a mixture of direct quotes and answer paraphrases.

On why he chose the St. John version of the Passion story over the other Gospel versions
MacMillan grew up attending Good Friday services.  He has regularly sung Gregorian chant versions of the Passion story.  He knew the St. John version of the story first.  That said, he’s hoping to some day write another Passion exploring one of the other texts as well.

On why the Resurrection isn’t included in the Passion story, even though John’s gospel covers it.
MacMillan “wanted to avoid the temptation to be bombastic” by including the Resurrection in this piece.  He feels it must be treated with intimacy and mystery, and happen in a quieter place.  He hopes to complete John’s gospel by setting the Resurrection story to music some day, though he imagines something like 5 singers and 5 instruments to achieve that austerity.

On why he included the “Reproaches,” and the assertions by some that this piece is anti-Semitic for including it
Like the interludes at the end of the other movements, it is a liturgical tool.  “No sane Catholic would see these words as accusing the Jews of killing Christ.”  The Reproaches have been musically set by other composers as well, so there’s certainly precedent for including them in a work.  More practically, including the Reproaches solves another issue: “There’s not a lot for Christ to sing.”  As he composed the piece, MacMillan had thought about making a special movement, an aria of sorts, for Jesus to sing.  The Reproaches fit that role nicely.

On why an orchestra-only 10th movement, when the piece could have ended after the 9th movement
I loved his answer for this one.  MacMillan said the amazing thing about Schumann is how the piano continues on a postlude… “the music goes on to a place where words can’t go.”  He wanted to take this lesson from history and do something similar here.  While the 10th movement is not a continuation of the music from the rest of the piece, it provides a chance for reflection, a song without words, that is needed to wrap up the piece.

On the role of Pontius Pilate, and what the basses can do to personify him besides being angry all the time
Movement three “is a courtroom battle, with Pilate and Christ trying to out do each other, pitting their wits against each other.”  Pilate’s character is certainly an angry role, but he’s also a character with “guile.”  MacMillan mentioned that he chose to have only one soloist for economic reasons.  He complimented the choruses on “the fact that you come across as one unit” while singing the role.

On the role of Peter, and the juxtaposition of themes in the 2nd movement.
MacMillan was very conscious of how Peter, as cowardly as the rest of us, denying Jesus in the face of violence, could then be chosen to be the head of Christ’s church.  He really wanted “to play about this paradox between Peter the fallen human, the coward that we all are, and Peter as the first Pope.”

On the role of Jesus and the heavy melismatic writing
It was difficult to know how to treat Christus, and MacMillan is sure there might be other ways.  (He’s hoping to explore some of those options if he goes back and tries a different gospel’s Passion story, though he assured us that that will also include easier choral music so more choruses and organizations can perform them.)  He wanted his voice “to be different from all others in the piece.”  And, MacMillan loves writing melismatic lines any ways (he commented that maybe he went even a little too far here).  But there’s “something about Christ’s words which lend themselves to melisma.)

On the role of the narrator chorus, and whether the singers should be emotionally involved or detached from the storytelling
The narrator chorus is both detached and emotional.  Having heard the piece now performed in three different countries, MacMillan has noticed “a different accent for each nation as they sing the narrator chorus.”  For instance, the British choruses are slightly more detached.  He noted, though, that in these rehearsals, Sir Colin Davis has been asking for (and receiving) more emotion from our American narrator chorus.  He commented that it sounded like we wanted to give it, and make that more visceral connection, so it was certainly appropriate.

On whether he’s ever thought of making adjustments to the piece or if he could truly call it done
“When I was younger, I would tinker with things” after he had finished composing them.  But now, with his experience, MacMillan states he’s become better at knowing what to expect “when what’s on paper becomes flesh, as it were.”  So no, he has had a pretty clear idea of what he wants to accomplish and he knew what would work before it was ever first sung.

On whether he’s ever considered splitting up the St. John Passion and publishing smaller parts of it for commercial potential
MacMillan hadn’t decided yet, and hadn’t given too much thought to this while composing it, but he does feel that some of the reflections after the movements could work as church choral pieces.  In fact, the Stabat Mater portion of movement 7, Jesus and his Mother, already exists as an unaccompanied published piece under the name Fiat Mihi.  (I think many choral members will be looking that one up.)

On Eastern, Scottish bagpipes, and other musical influences on his composition style
MacMillan noted that the Catholic church has its roots in the synagogue.  He admitted he was “fascinated with non-European music, more ethnic music, including Arabian.”  He also noted his familiarity with Gregorian chant, and cited its influence, especially with the style of the narrator chorus.  He considers this work what happens when chant and opera “meet and do battle together.”

Scottish music definitely has a tradition of being very heavily embellished (yes, including bagpipes).  MacMillan confessed that Scottish music “is under my skin.”  He also remarked that many of the themes borrowed for this piece are of Scottish or Gallic origin.  He cited the melody in the brass in the 10th movement, noting that it’s a setting of a Sanctus used in Scotland and Anglican services… “any churchgoer in the UK would recognize it immediately, but here in the States it’s more likely to go unnoticed.” [Update: Peter Pulsifer from the chorus points out that this Sanctus is actually MacMillan’s own setting of the Sanctus from his St. Anne’s Mass… MacMillan quoting MacMillan!  Though it is apparently quite popular.] There are nods like this throughout the piece, “genuflections to tradition.”  As MacMillan said, “the ghost of Bach was floating over my head” as he wrote the piece, because you can’t write a Passion without acknowledging, or in this case embracing, his influence — even going so far as to include the melody he made famous in his chorales.  He included homages to Bach, Wagner and… Victoria?  He wanted to take these 3 pillars and bring them into this piece so it could be part of that tradition.  Why Wagner?  “Wagner had provided the way forward for composers.”  Besides, “composers shouldn’t worry about borrowing… so just steal as much as you can!”

On his 21st century music not sounding like other crazy 21st century compositions
“Fundamentally, I’m an old-fashioned composer” who values tradition and doesn’t take the high-minded modern idea that the past is not useful.  He does not take an iconoclastic attitude toward tonality.  Sure, “there are obvious chromatic stretches and they create tension, but it’s all rooted in something.”