National Youth Choir, Royal Albert Hall review – a spectacular jubilee

The recently re-branded National Youth Choir was founded in 1983 as a single choir of about 100 voices, and in those 40 years has grown to be a family of four, ranging from the nine-year-olds at the bottom of the boys’ and girls’ choirs to the 25-year-olds at the top of the NYC proper.

Several hundred young singers in total, further augmented at the Royal Albert Hall last night by an alumni choir and even, in the last number, by the entire audience. In a time of unremitting bad news in the classical music world it was a much-needed tonic, a truly heart-warming celebration of singing and its positive effect on young people.

As a disclaimer, I wasn’t meant to be reviewing, instead enjoying the hospitality of the choir’s Chair, David Roper. But I was so enthused by the occasion that I felt it needed to be talked about as a welcome beacon in the prevailing gloom. There was so much to enjoy, going to beyond the brilliantly-chosen repertoire and performances of the highest standard, to the slickness of the presentation, with filmed interstices between the items in which choir members spoke about the music and the experience of being in the NYC. One insert had the great and the good – from the King’s Singers to Errollyn Wallen – offering their birthday greetings - a huge spontaneous cheer greeted the appearance of the BBC Singers. There will be lots of singers in the NYC hoping there is still a BBC Singers for them to join in years to come.

As for the music itself, it started with a bang, the combined choirs singing Kerry Andrew’s who we are, a previous commission by the NYC. But it’s not just about the singing: intricate rhythms are picked out in body percussion, while glorious textures build up, a propulsive energy moving things forward. The perfect concert opener.The Boys’ Choir found a similar drive in getting their tongues round the Hungarian of Lajos Bardos’s Hej, Igazitsad, as did the Training Choir (the 15 to 18-year-olds) in the captivating abandon of Kalinda, by Sydney Guillaume. They also provided the most visually spectacular item of the night, Eric Whitacre’s Leonardo dreams of his flying machine, which had elements of dance, theatre and puppetry, but somehow also excellent singing despite all of that, held together by the balletic Greg Beardsell.

There was also son et lumière in the spatial presentation of Tallis’s 40-voice Spem in alium, by the combined Fellowship and Youth Choir, with lighting effects bringing out the theory that Tallis buried a spelling-out of his own name within the music.

In the second half, the Girls’ Choir under Joanna Tomlinson were hypnotic in Iryna Aleksiychuk’s Glory and the National Youth Choir itself, the top of the pyramid, made light of the intricacies of Shruthi Rajasekar’s delightful Numbers. Only in their second item, Until It’s Gone, was there a loss of momentum, the piece overstaying itself a bit.

Then it was everyone together – including staff and trustees of the NYC – for a newly commissioned piece by Ben Parry, the inspirational driving force behind the choir for the last decade. His One Long Song, with words by Anoushka Lucas, a meditation on the place of singing in the here and now. It’s was a tough brief, a finale to involve everyone, each group given their moment, but it worked, building to a rousing final chord. The performers, for whom it will remain a lifetime memory, loitered, not wanting to leave the stage, which is how you want performers to feel. I went out greatly cheered, and even the waiting torrential downpour couldn’t blunt my high spirits.

• More classical reviews on theartsdesk

@bernardlhughes