Andrew Griffiths presents lesser-known unaccompanied choral works by the mid-twentieth century British composer, Kenneth Leighton, sung by Londinium. This is the choir's second recording and, having been delayed by the pandemic, is much anticipated. For those who know Leighton's church music, there is something fresh here and while the music is evidently Leighton's handiwork possibly something quite unfamiliar from the usual touchstones of his sacred music that have been previously recorded.

Londinium is one of London's premier non-professional chamber choirs (although with nearly 50 singers on this disc, necessary for some of the repertoire presented, it feels more akin to a radio choir) with a sound that is fresh and a real ability to give an emotionally convincing performance that is technically assured. This disc convincingly advocates the music being performed. The focus of the recording is Leighton's unpublished Laudes animantium (Op.61) which Griffiths identified along with other unpublished or unjustly neglected works. He has managed to create a wonderfully balanced portrait of the composer across the greater part of his life. Discs of a single composer can be a mixed blessing, but the programming finds the light and shade of the music with Griffiths' excellent direction highlighting this through the group's well- communicated and tight performance.

Laudes animantium is an example of Leighton's life-long interest in nature as a topic for his music, (ranging from his student Veris gratia suite dedicated to Finzi to the monumental song cycle Earth, sweet earth) and Londinium capture the tone and character required for this multi-faceted. work. They are joined by soloists Nick Pritchard (tenor), Rebecca Lea (soprano), Nina Bennet (soprano), Ciara Hendrick (mezzo-soprano), and Finchley Children's Music Group. The Prelude is one of the first pieces in which Leighton introduces a work with a soloist singing prose-like (i.e. unmetered) text - a device which he uses in his Symphony No.3 Laudes musicae and Earth, sweet earth - and this is done with consummate skill by tenor, Nick Pritchard, to a text from Whitman's 'A song of myself’. The duet in The Nightingale between him and Rebecca Lea is performed with space and apparent ease.

From the witty Scherzo: Calico Pie and The Grey Squirrel to the dread and wailing of The Kraken, there is none of the embarrassed English choir-stalls emotional restraint here: the ensemble sounds really committed to both the text and Leighton's response to it - both serious and humorous. They do no injustice to those sections which are simply beautiful either: The Lamb deserves a particular mention for the two superb soloists from Finchley Children's Music Group. Arielle Loewinger and Madelaine Napier possess two mature and clear voices which are well matched to each other, playing on Leighton's musical mirror-image of their melodies. The text naturally invites thoughts of John Tavener's famous setting, but it seems Leighton achieved something of the same emotional material and compositional quality over a decade before Tavener wrote his.

Suitably enough for a choir named Londinium, London Town is another secular cantata - this time a single movement where Leighton's capacity for creating energy through his counterpoint is in full flow. The usual hallmarks of spiky rhythms and his modally influenced tonal language are evident. There are more secular pieces of these sort that really would make great additions to the repertoire for concerts choirs of a fairly decent standard. While the effect of much of Leighton's music sounds hard, the quality of his writing for each part makes these works innately singable - the proof of that is the vim that Londinium injects into this performance.

My personal highlight bridges between the secular and sacred spaces, with the immense setting of Thomas Browne's An Evening Hymn. Religious but not liturgical, it is immediately apparent as a masterpiece but no small challenge, which Londinium and Rebecca Lea as soprano soloist meet with ease. The richer textures and slower harmonic tempo make for something quite sumptuous - almost sensual. Leighton seems to treat the choir as a string orchestra, and the unusual divisi in the final few minutes achieves an astonishing sonority. It is hard to believe that such a work, with up to nine parts at one point, was written for and first performed by just the choir of Chichester Cathedral (a tiny choral foundation of just 12 boys and 6 men at the time) as the dedication reads, commissioned for the 1979 Chichester Festival. It certainly suits a larger choir. One might feel that the work of only two years earlier would be in the same vein, but there is a much more angular quality to Lord, when the sense of thy sweet grace, and it is arguably the hardest piece to listen to in the programme. The harmony is piquant, but the gentle sway of the slow three-time metre is an effect that Leighton clearly wanted to cultivate for the cavernous acoustic of Ampleforth Abbey, for where he wrote the piece on New Year's Day, dedicating it to the Schola Cantorum. Further pieces for Ampleforth would follow with a motet for boys' voices and a mass setting a few years later.

In contrast to these later works we also hear the youthful Leighton with the very first choral compositions he penned. The Lully, lulla is well- known and was published in 1956 as part of Leighton's Opus 25, but here it is presented for the first time with its two unpublished companions from 1948, written when Leighton was only 19. These simple but beautiful pieces work incredibly well on this disc, and the soloists taken from Londinium do a fantastic job – so much so that there is no sense at all of these being a step down from the main soloists on the recording. It is also interesting to compare this early set of pieces with the later Nativitie, written after Leighton had studied with Goffredo Petrassi in Rome, and had taken up his first position at Edinburgh University. The starkness of that work's opening, with its expansive phrases setting John Donne's text is of an entirely different scale to the 1948 works. The mood begins to thaw with the entry of the soprano solo, and the whole piece yields from iciness to something much more tender.

A Hymn to the Trinity demonstrates perhaps the character of Leighton with which people are most familiar, but even amidst the lively dance rhythms and intricate sections of counterpoint, the soft moments are equally wonderful. This feels like a good party piece to end the programme and again Londinium manage to give that sense of a live performance which characterises the whole disc.

Griffiths' liner notes are excellent, achieving a good balance between Leighton's biographical information and highlighting salient points which illuminate his programming. These alone justify purchasing a physical copy of the disc, although it is available to stream online. The only niggle is the listing of Leighton's setting of the Coventry Carol (Lully lulla, thou little tiny child) which gives 'tiny little' instead, which is a shame for the one work listeners are likely to know of beforehand.

If there are any faults for me they are only small details. Some diphthongs seem to not happen or do not tell on the recording, nor am I entirely convinced that the acoustic of All Hallows in Gospel Oak is universally successful. Sometimes there is too much of the building to really hear the detail of what is going on - this is particularly true for the lower voices. It does however give that incredibly satisfying ambience to the smaller and intimate carols. In all, a really fine disc with fantastic singing. The tuning is spot-on to my ear and I am thrilled that Griffiths and Londinium have achieved such an excellent aural advocacy for Kenneth Leighton with this innovative programme. It should get the juices of any choir director going or there's something wrong with them!

Tom Coxhead, Finzi Journal (December 2023)