Two relatively unknown works by Barber, recorded in the mid 1970s, are the main attraction on this Louisville First Edition reissue on CD. Both are dedicated to the memory of Serge Koussevitzky and his wife. Die Natali (1960), written for the seventy-fifth season of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, is a set of chorale preludes for Christmas carefully planned to start with carols celebrating the annunciation and to end with those concerning the nativity. ''O come, O come, Emmanuel'' and ''Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming'' are followed by ''Good King Wenceslas'' with a flattened leading note and ''God rest you merry, Gentlemen'' rhythmically transformed. Familiar tunes drift in and out of focus in a melange which at times is almost Ivesian. ''Silent Night'' emerges beneath gentle patterns in 7/8 on the strings and an independent theme moves fugally to a climax. Die Natali is a most inventive and touching Christmas piece, just too subtle, perhaps, to be heard every yuletide—it begins and ends softly. Jorge Mester's performance is exactly right.
Prayers of Kierkegaard, written six years earlier, also shows Barber near top form. It starts austerely with unaccompanied male voices but encompases ecstatic solos for soprano and tenor, double choir exchanges and a passionate orchestral outburst. The ending is a kind of chorale. Barber has responded with a characteristic sense of theatre to Kierkegaard's powerful imprecation. The choral singing is not quite unanimous at times but the sound is well balanced and the performance thoroughly coherent.
There is religious passion too in Paul Creston's Corinthians: XIII (1963). At climaxes, and there are plenty, he throws the orchestra around in a post-impressionist harmonic idiom somewhere between Delius and Scriabin or, in American terms, Loeffler and late Griffes. This prolific and once popular composer has become neglected but Robert Whitney's well-paced performance of Corinthians: XIII could bring him back to a new audience. Of these two pieces, recorded in the mid 1960s, I found Ernst Toch's Jephta the least interesting, overstaying its welcome by quite a long way and—to emphasize the point—noise in the tracks for the last few bars.'