Crashing through the gate, this excellent new release of Dan Locklair‘s music begins with a muscular brass and organ introduction that gives way to a similarly swaggering choir in the titular track. You might expect the brash tone of From East to West to continue throughout the recording’s track list, but the opener is followed by a tender and expressive a cappella anthem, “Love Came Down at Christmas.” This pairing sets the tone for this album of Locklair’s sacred music, full of juxtapositions in its modally inflected writing. It calls to mind the likes of James MacMillan or Kenneth Leighton, though with a distinctly American flair. Locklair’s compositional virtuosity is on full display here, with music that is at turns brash, tender, jagged, and lush – and the Choir of Royal Holloway handles its challenges with aplomb and precision under Rupert Gough’s steady hand.

Two stand-out works exemplify Locklair’s attention to craft in its various forms: the Three Christmas Motets and the Brief Mass. In the former, the sweet and tender “O Magnum Mysterium” is framed by two exuberant and festive dances, “Quem Vidistis Pastores” and “Hodie Christus Natus Est.” The rhythmic intensity and variety of those outer movements contrasts the simple restraint of the central one, which manages to find an earnest beauty without being trite. One could take that even further when looking at the Brief Mass, with its extremely taut compositional structure. The composer’s note (found in the robust CD booklet) reveals the piece’s architectural construction, built around the symmetry of its liturgy. In just 19 minutes of music, Locklair offers the mystical and subdued in his “Kyrie” and “Agnus Dei,” employs polychoral writing to great effect in the fervent “Gloria” (with fantastic soli) and the jubilant “Sanctus,” and fuses the two styles in the thrilling “Credo” at its center. In both multi-movement works, we feel this music as expressive, not academic, through the composer’s attention to detail, text, and construction.

The choral miniatures on this recording are just as exquisite, though. Shorter a cappella pieces like “King of Glory, King of Peace,” “O Trinity of Blessed Light,” and “In the Cross of Christ I Glory,” have a delightful, hymn-like quality that might invoke the sounds of a modern Southern Harmony, or some well-loved works of the late American composer, Stephen Paulus. In every case, Locklair’s attention to text shines through, whether in the symbolically descending tonal center of “Spirit of Mercy, Truth, and Love” or the insistence of the primary musical idea in “Thy Goodness, Lord, a Joyful Theme,” played elegantly by David Goode. Throughout the album, the choir handle this music with clarity and care, particularly in moments of quiet intensity. They sing with vigor when needed, too, and though it can occasionally come across as ragged, it leads to some electrifying moments in the most climactic pieces.

For those who are unfamiliar with the work of Locklair (as I was), this recording serves as an excellent and impressive introduction. The variety of expressive elements in his compositional toolkit make for a rewarding listen, and his attention to text-setting makes for compelling vocal music. I was equally unfamiliar with the work of the choir, who sing admirably, given the various challenges of this music. Gough has built a formidable choral program at Royal Holloway College, and they sing with clear expressive intent, which makes up for their occasional unevenness. Likewise, Goode and Onyx Brass bring their best in the brawny bookends to the recording. It’s easy to see why Locklair, or most any composer, would want to collaborate with them regularly. I hope we’ll hear more recordings of Locklair’s music, and will keep my eye out for more from Gough and the choral scholars of The Choir of Royal Holloway.