TheArtsDesk
O Listen: The Music of Uroš Krek & Else Marie Pade Danish Radio Vocal Ensemble/Martina Batič (OUR Recordings)
The Danish Radio Vocal Ensemble is the equivalent of the BBC Singers – a full-time chamber choir under the aegis of the national broadcaster, with singers of phenomenal technical ability, and the time and resources to tackle any repertoire. They recently appointed a new Chief Conductor, the Slovenian Martina Batič, who has brought a compatriot composer with her for her first recording project. I had not encountered Uroš Krek (1922-2008) before, but was completely won over. Here he is represented by five pieces from the 1990s which are assertive, music with heart and soul, punchy harmony and a very strong compositional voice. It is ear-cleansing and refreshing, whether in the austere polyphony of Psalm 42, the extrovert elasticity of Vester, Camenae or the high-spirited Three Autumn Songs, which are a response to the war in Slovenia in 1991 – but a response in which Krek “protest strongly… with gentle words.” The singing is first rate, rhythmically on the front foot and with a forward sound that suits the pieces – but saying that, the meltingly beautiful blend at the end of Vöra bije is a highlight.
The second composer is a real contrast, Else Marie Pade (1924-2016), Denmark’s first electronic music composer. Pade’s is a fascinating story (featured in Kate Molleson’s brilliant book Sound Within Sound), which included serving in the Danish Resistance and imprisonment by the Gestapo. In the 1950s she became interested in musique concrète, creating pioneering works in this manner. An unlikely background for a composer of choral music, but Korsatser (1955), originally for voice and piano, is heard here in an arrangement for mixed choir. These three charming songs are firmly in the Danish song tradition and don’t hint at what is to follow, in Maria (1980).
This is scored for coloratura soprano (the stratospheric Anna Miilmann), baritone (Jakob Soelberg), speaking chorus and electronics. This is Pade in her world of artificially manipulated sound: the text of the Apostles’ Creed – either sung in elaborate melismas or declaimed by the choir with a machine-like recitation – all decorated with synthetic bleeps, scrapes and glassy shards of sound. It is a ritualistic work of 25 minutes, with something of the deep seriousness of Pärt, but the soundworld of Delia Derbyshire. Deeply weird, but also completely engrossing, it is well-captured by engineer Mikkel Nymand – but I reckon might need to be heard live for full impact. - Bernard Hughes