If only one of Paul McCartney's varied musical strengths carries his oratorio, Ecce Cor Meum (Behold My Heart), it is his astonishing melodic talent: indeed, it is because of the piece's undeniable tunefulness that it is at all viable. This grandiose, neo-Romantic work for soprano, mixed choir, boy choir, and orchestra would seem unbearably tedious were it not for the chains of attractive themes that are laced throughout, and the monumental structure would collapse under its ponderous weight were it not for the light, lyrical touches that hold it up. McCartney the pop master is still the classical naif who, by dint of his supreme self-confidence, believes he has the technical skill and artistic imagination to set his rambling, sentimental text with enough interesting material to hold the listener's attention for close to an hour. Yet the predominant tempos are slow to moderately slow, the orchestration is lackluster, and the textures are so thickly chordal that even McCartney's amateurish attempts at counterpoint bring welcome relief. The somber tone of a requiem is unmistakable throughout, and McCartney's gravitas is expressed through dark timbres and minor harmonies that seem borrowed from Mozart and Verdi; only in the third movement, "Musica," is the mood lightened to a bittersweet nostalgia, expressed through a poignant melody comparable to anything in McCartney's popular song catalog, and brightened with brass fanfares reminiscent of "Penny Lane." Yet the bulk of this overlong work is heavy going, and despite the best efforts of soprano Kate Royal; the London Voices, the combined boy choirs of Magdalen College, Oxford, and King's College, Cambridge; and the Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields under Gavin Greenaway, this oratorio comes off as a pretentious exercise with few worthwhile highpoints. EMI's sound is good, though better separation of parts might have made this recording more listenable.

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Ecce Cor Meum ("Behold My Heart" in Latin) is Paul McCartney's fourth album of classical music and his second oratorio, following Liverpool Oratorio of 1991. Like that piece, it was commissioned, in this case by Anthony Smith, then president of Magdalen College at Oxford University, who was looking for a work to christen a new concert hall. As so often happens with commissions, the composition took much longer than intended, eight years, in fact, with work interrupted for other projects and by McCartney's tumultuous personal life, which included the death of his first wife, Linda McCartney, and his meeting, marrying, and separating from his second. According to producer John Fraser, as quoted by annotator Peter Quantrill, it was the earlier event that most affected the work: "The loss of Linda is suffused throughout the piece." If so, that would explain some of the more melancholy passages, notably the brief Interlude (Lament) that comes in the middle of the work. Death also is apparent in the final section, Ecce Cor Meum itself, which contains lyrics commenting on separation. But McCartney's sunnier nature is also apparent throughout. The hourlong choral work sounds appropriate to its commission; it would fit in well in either a concert hall or church, sung by an adult and boys' choir. Most of McCartney's lyrics are generalized expressions of love and, as the opening section puts it, Spiritus, rather than God specifically. There are moments that pop fans will recognize, certain familiar melodic motifs and instrumental sounds. For example, McCartney's affection for the piccolo trumpet, first revealed on "Penny Lane," is explored further. Ecce Cor Meum is not a great new choral work. It is unlikely, as Smith hoped, to be "sung by young people the world over in the same way that Handel's Messiah is." But on its own terms, it is a successful minor piece of classical music. ~ William Ruhlmann

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