The Australian Voices at Stanford Memorial Church

I had the distinct pleasure of attending a concert given at Stanford's Memorial Church last night. The performers were a group of 38 young adults calling themselves The Australian Voices. The name signifies not only that this chorus comes from Australia, but that they also showcase the works of Australian composers. The most prominently featured works, though, were those of Stephen Leek, who is also the chorus's manager. The group's conductor, Graeme Morton and his brother (and the group's accompanist) Ralph Morton together publish and sell choral music out of Toowong, Queensland; their Morton Music firm is the exclusive publisher of Stephen Leek's works.

The chorus opened with works of composers from the northern hemisphere, sung from the gallery of Memorial Church, since the sacred pieces by Rorem and Vaughan Williams called for strong organ accompaniment, which was well served by the Murray Harris organ. I was immediately struck by the vocal power and coherency of pitch and rhythm delivered from the back of the church to the front rows where I was seated. The other immediate attention getter was the chorus's preparation and stance. All the pieces on the program were sung from memory, and the singers stood at least two feet apart from each other. I presume that standing at this distance was part of a discipline to prevent the singers from depending too much upon one another, and to follow the conductor by sight, rather than by time-distorted aural cues. During the entire concert, I did not notice any time when the chorus was not paying close attention to its conductor.
[See note regarding spacing of singers.]

Stephen Leek's composition, Great Southern Spirits, was the technical tour de force of the evening. The chorus employed techniques that presumably imitate the bush peoples' vocal palette, including overtone singing, bird whistles, and other sounds of the wild. I was especially impressed by the first number of Great Southern Spirits, titled "Wirindji." This is named after a mythical race of warrior women who lure wandering male hunters to mate, kill, and then eat them. The men give a shout, and from that thicket of noise, the sopranos pull out a strong high A in unison. If the sopranos don't all have perfect pitch, they must have that note thoroughly memorized in the musculature of their mouths and throats.

I had the strong feeling that Great Southern Spirits was written to show off the virtuosity of The Australian Voices. I was surprised when Leek said that learning the piece "didn't take [the chorus] that long". Without seeing the music, I would assume the piece to be so difficult as to be beyond the technical grasp of over 99% of the choruses in the world. Additionally, the idiom may not be transferable should an intrepid chorus attempt to approach the score without contact with bush culture. I anticipate an effect similar to "The Small House of Uncle Tom", the adaptation of Harriet Beecher Stowe's work presented to the King of Siam in The King and I. Time will tell. However, one of my favorite gauges of new music is children. Though their parents' reactions have a strong bearing on kids, they are typically honest if naive critics. And at the intermission, I saw groups of delighted children gathered trying to imitate the sounds that they had heard.

The great English choral tradition that I have always admired does not consistently produce the kind of focused and disciplined music making that I witnessed last night. On the contrary, doing it day in and out leads to a certain arrogance and sloppiness, especially when the highly reputed choirs reach the ends of their seasons. I kept on saying that if The Australian Voices were to show up in Cambridge, England, at this time of year, they could turn the place upside down. The contrast between the Australians' laser-like intensity and the weary English collegiate and cathedral choirs (whose boys are bopping each other on the head while processing to their respective chapels) would be a revelation.

I noticed that much greater demands were made of the women than the men; presumably, this reflects the slower maturation of lower voices. Steve Sano of the Stanford Music Department observed that The Australian Voices' CD did not do the them justice, and after a few listenings, I agreed; I find the preponderance of women's voices on the recording a bit fatiguing. Also, in the concert hall, I think that some of the textual clarity has been compromised for the sake of tonal quality.

For a mere 38 singers, The Australian Voices packed a sonic punch that would shame some choruses three or four times their size. I credit this not only to strong individual voices, but also to the consistency of pitch, word formation, and rhythmic pulse. Toward the end of the evening, they had lost that ultimate scintilla of precision, but this was understandable considering that they had been singing in rehearsal, service, or performance for the better part of over twelve hours.

I have not been this excited about a choral concert in quite a number of years. Do not miss The Australian Voices if you can help it. If you are confined to an intensive care unit, get out to see them; their music may do you more good than medical science. See them earlier rather than later, if at all possible. If they keep going at their current pace, they may be burned out by the time they reach their last tour performance.

Romain Kang
July 8, 1996

This review © 1996 by Romain Kang. Permission is granted to reproduce this article as long as fair and reasonable attribution is retained.

    Ned Rorem: Praise the Lord
    Francis Poulenc: Vinea mea electa
    Ralph Vaughan Williams: O clap your hands

    Stephen Leek: Great Southern Spirits
	Wirindji
	Mulga
	Kondalilla
	Uluru

   Percy Grainger: Australian Up-Country Song

   Dylan Nicholson: Kyrie & Gloria

   Clare Maclean: We welcome summer

   Leek: "Ngana" from Songs of Passage
   Leek (arr.): "Monkey and Turtle", from Island Songs
   Leek (arr.): Black Swana

   Leek (arr.): Waltzing Matilda

   Leek (arr.): The carnival is over
   Leek (arr.): Simple gifts