Let all mortal flesh keep silence

Edward C. Bairstow

| 3 mins read | Listen on Spotify

The opening of this piece demands the full attention of the listener, and how can one give it anything less? The octave male voices captivate the listener with a quiet intensity like that of a calm morning before the rising of the sun. The upper voices, like daybreak, gradually break into an imaginative harmony in which one can hear the music itself breathing as it comes to life.

We return to octaves, now with the full choir building tension. This is released as the choir bursts into a resplendent harmony, augmented by a scattering of satisfying suspensions. At the culmination of the section, gentle nods to the end of the first section tie the piece together.

The piece then changes tack, revelling briefly in the delights of the choirs of angels, before turning to the power of the Cherubim and Seraphim. Once again, the piece drops down, with the upper voices dropping out. Gradually, they re-enter as we build to a great cry: “Alleluia!”

The ending closely reflects the beginning, with tenor and bass solos in octaves. The choir is now but an echo of the great power of the middle section. However, this ending is no less satisfying than could be achieved by a much louder shout.

The biggest downside with this piece is the large vocal range required. The basses need to be capable of a bottom E#, whilst the sopranos require a top A — limiting the ability to transpose up or down a little to assist with the extremes. Ultimately, this will be an attraction for some choirs. For others, it will make the piece a non-starter.

Additionally, there can be a temptation to rush the piece, particularly the ending. For a choir that can resist this temptation, and having the appropriate range, this is an outstanding piece, sure to leave an audience spell-bound.