22 Jun 2008
Choral Music by Dvořák and Brahms
Among the choral music of Anton [Antonin] Dvorak, the familiar Stabat Mater, Op. 58, is known to modern audiences through various live performances and recordings.
The Sixteen continues its exploration of Henry Purcell’s Welcome Songs for Charles II. As with Robert King’s pioneering Purcell series begun over thirty years ago for Hyperion, Harry Christophers is recording two Welcome Songs per disc.
In February this year, Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho made a highly lauded debut recital at Wigmore Hall - a concert which both celebrated Opera Rara’s 50th anniversary and honoured the career of the Italian soprano Rosina Storchio (1872-1945), the star of verismo who created the title roles in Leoncavallo’s La bohème and Zazà, Mascagni’s Lodoletta and Puccini’s Madama Butterfly.
Collapsology. Or, perhaps we should use the French word ‘Collapsologie’ because this is a transdisciplinary idea pretty much advocated by a series of French theorists - and apparently, mostly French theorists. It in essence focuses on the imminent collapse of modern society and all its layers - a series of escalating crises on a global scale: environmental, economic, geopolitical, governmental; the list is extensive.
Amongst an avalanche of new Mahler recordings appearing at the moment (Das Lied von der Erde seems to be the most favoured, with three) this 1991 Mahler Second from the 2nd Kassel MahlerFest is one of the more interesting releases.
If there is one myth, it seems believed by some people today, that probably needs shattering it is that post-war recordings or performances of Wagner operas were always of exceptional quality. This 1949 Hamburg Tristan und Isolde is one of those recordings - though quite who is to blame for its many problems takes quite some unearthing.
The voices of six women composers are celebrated by baritone Jeremy Huw Williams and soprano Yunah Lee on this characteristically ambitious and valuable release by Lontano Records Ltd (Lorelt).
As Paul Spicer, conductor of the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire Chamber Choir, observes, the worship of the Blessed Virgin Mary is as ‘old as Christianity itself’, and programmes devoted to settings of texts which venerate the Virgin Mary are commonplace.
Ethel Smyth’s last large-scale work, written in 1930 by the then 72-year-old composer who was increasingly afflicted and depressed by her worsening deafness, was The Prison – a ‘symphony’ for soprano and bass-baritone soloists, chorus and orchestra.
‘Hamilton Harty is Irish to the core, but he is not a musical nationalist.’
‘After silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.’ Aldous Huxley’s words have inspired VOCES8’s new disc, After Silence, a ‘double album in four chapters’ which marks the ensemble’s 15th anniversary.
A song-cycle is a narrative, a journey, not necessarily literal or linear, but one which carries performer and listener through time and across an emotional terrain. Through complement and contrast, poetry and music crystallise diverse sentiments and somehow cohere variability into an aesthetic unity.
One of the nicest things about being lucky enough to enjoy opera, music and theatre, week in week out, in London’s fringe theatres, music conservatoires, and international concert halls and opera houses, is the opportunity to encounter striking performances by young talented musicians and then watch with pleasure as they fulfil those sparks of promise.
“It’s forbidden, and where’s the art in that?”
Dublin-born John F. Larchet (1884-1967) might well be described as the father of post-Independence Irish music, given the immense influenced that he had upon Irish musical life during the first half of the 20th century - as a composer, musician, administrator and teacher.
The English Civil War is raging. The daughter of a Puritan aristocrat has fallen in love with the son of a Royalist supporter of the House of Stuart. Will love triumph over political expediency and religious dogma?
Beethoven Symphony no 9 (the Choral Symphony) in D minor, Op. 125, and the Choral Fantasy in C minor, Op. 80 with soloist Kristian Bezuidenhout, Pablo Heras-Casado conducting the Freiburger Barockorchester, new from Harmonia Mundi.
A Louise Brooks look-a-like, in bobbed black wig and floor-sweeping leather trench-coat, cheeks purple-rouged and eyes shadowed in black, Barbara Hannigan issues taut gestures which elicit fire-cracker punch from the Mahler Chamber Orchestra.
‘Signor Piatti in a fantasia on themes from Beatrice di Tenda had also his triumph. Difficulties, declared to be insuperable, were vanquished by him with consummate skill and precision. He certainly is amazing, his tone magnificent, and his style excellent. His resources appear to be inexhaustible; and altogether for variety, it is the greatest specimen of violoncello playing that has been heard in this country.’
Baritone Roderick Williams seems to have been a pretty constant ‘companion’, on my laptop screen and through my stereo speakers, during the past few ‘lock-down’ months.
Melodramas can be a difficult genre for composers. Before Richard Strauss’s Enoch Arden the concept of the melodrama was its compact size – Weber’s Wolf’s Glen scene in Der Freischütz, Georg Benda’s Ariadne auf Naxos and Medea or even Leonore’s grave scene in Beethoven’s Fidelio.
Among the choral music of Anton [Antonin] Dvorak, the familiar Stabat Mater, Op. 58, is known to modern audiences through various live performances and recordings.
Yet his Requiem, Op. 89, which received its premiere in 1891, is an equally find work that deserves a similar kind of popularity. While stated explicitly with reference to Brahms’ Deutsches Requiem all Requiems are, ultimately for the living, and the approach each composer has taken in setting the text of this rite also reflects something of the intended audience of the piece.
Composers in the nineteenth century approached the Requiem Mass in various ways, from the dramatic setting by Berlioz to the more personal expression of the sentiments of the rite by Brahms in his Deutsches Requiem. Dvorak treated the Requiem in a more conventional manner by using the text of the Requiem Mass associated with the Catholic liturgy, an idiom that should be familiar to the audience he addressed. While it bows to convention, such adherence to tradition should not suggest anything mundane. On the contrary, Dvorak’s setting bears attention for the way in which he expressed this text in one of the finer scores of his artistic maturity. A work for four vocal soloists, chorus, and orchestra, it is a powerful large-scale work that brings to mind some of the composer’s symphonic music, while simultaneously relying on choral sonorities for some of its more poignant effects. As occurs in Dvorak’s later symphonies, the interplay of textures is an important aspect of the score, which is as colorful as some of the composer’s operas.
The second section, the Gradual in which the text reiterates the prayer for peace (“Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, / Et lux perpetua luceat eis. / In memoria aeterna erit justis / ab auditione mala non timebit.”) the juxtaposition of the soprano solo with the chorus is memorable, especially in the context of the sometimes transparent orchestration. Likewise, the Dies irae that follows involves the traditional melodic formulation associated with the chant and also the exploits the thunderous sound of percussion and brass. In contrast to the relentless trumpets of Verdi’s well-known Requiem, the softer, more subdued sonorities that Dvorak used in his setting create a different, more intimate effect. In contrast to the terrors at the prospect of divine judgment, the listener gains a sense of consolation and the prospect of eternal peace. In these and other ways, Dvorak approached the Requiem with the same sense for building on tradition as he did in his symphonic works. The result is a score that deserves to be heard more often, not only on recordings, but also in live performances.
This recording of Dvorak’s Requiem preserves a performance given on 13 November 2005 at a concert given in the memory of Grand Duke Adolf of Luxemburg (also Duke of Nassau), and the quality of the effort is apparent from the outset. The solo parts are sung by Mechthild Bach (soprano), Stefanie Irányi (alto), Markus Schäfer (tenor), and Klaus Mertens (bass). Mertens is, perhaps, the most familiar soloist, also performs Brahms’ Vier ernste Gesänge on this recording. He is balanced well by Schäfer, whose ringing sound captures well the solo line for the tenor. Mechthild Bach brings some fine touches to the soprano part, which involves some sustained passages that demand an accomplished winder. Likewise, Stefanie Iránji works well with Bach and other soloists when the concertato-like sonorities contrast the full chorus throughout much of the work.
Even with a less extensive discography than that which exists for the Stabat Mater, Dvorak’s Requiem is available in several fine performances, and this particular performance can be counted among the notable ones. The sound on this particular Hänssler recording is, perhaps, a bit close and, as a result, does not always allow for the full sonorities of chorus or the combined chorus and orchestra to have the ambiance that would emerge in the actual hall. While not completely dry, it lacks the resonance one would associate with Dvorak. Even so, the sound is quite crisp and captures well the clearly articulated texts. The diction of the soloists is matched by the similarly precise entrances of the entire chorus, which Doris Hagel leads masterfully.
This recording includes on the second disc a performance of Brahms’ Vier ernste Gesänge by Klaus Mertens. Since the length of Dvorak’s Requiem forces a recording onto two CDs, the inclusion of this late work by Brahms is quite welcome, especially since it involves Mertens, whose performance in Dvorak’s Requiem is impressive. A cycle of settings for solo voice, the four songs have texts from the Old and New Testament that deal, in a sense, with the last things, that is, those enduring points of contemplation regarding existence, love, and salvation. Neither a Requiem, per se, nor funereal in tone, the Vier ernste Gesänge from 1896, the year before its composer died, are nonetheless reflective in nature, and Mertens’ interpretation captures that sense well. His resonant voice and fine diction are essential to the quality of this recording.
James L. Zychowicz