Our first Editor and great creator used to say that the Anglican chant was the only thing that English singers were really any good at. And of course the Anglican chant is nothing if not English—English in the sense of the Frenchman's now outworn view of us as a people of moderation and restraint, good at team-games and more than somewhat dull. Thus the sequence of 20 not very interesting chords is reiterated a dozen or so times, every member of the choir subordinating individuality of tone or expression to the discipline of precision and uniformity, while above the rows of well-pressed surplices are lodged rows of expressionless faces telling with imperturbable composure of the wicked enclosed in their own fat, the righteous preserved from the horrible pit, the impending triumph over Philistia and the utility of Moab as a washpot. Whatever the circumstances in which the psalms of David were composed, they cannot have had much in common with the sight and sound of a choral service in an English cathedral
These psalms from Wells Cathedral (the Second Volume of a series, Vol. 1 was reviewed last September) hardly disturb such preconceptions. They have been carefully prepared, with attention to sense and syntax (''How long wilt thou forget me, O lord? For ever?'' they sing, and not, as in my young days, as a single sentence, the end of which seems to have forgotten the beginning) and without the thump that used to be endemic (''nei/THER THE/moon by / night''). Antithetical constructions are duly noted (''The words of his mouth were softer than butter—piano—having war in his heart—forte''. General sentiments of rejoicing bring an increase of volume, and less cheerful matters a diminution. The organ helps, with a flute and ascending scale for the wings of the dove, a satirical clarinet or oboe for Og the King of Basan, and something powerful in the pedals for the noise of the thunder. But all is still accomplished with moderation and detachment. To a large extent, the tradition, the church-setting, the very nature of the Anglican chant combine to dictate the limits of performance. Still, bolder, more colourful singing is possible. For a start, the clipping of sound before the colon-break in the verse could well be abandoned: there is something doctrinaire and clinical about it, very English some would say, but I rather hope not.'