Giuseppe VERDI (1813-1901)
Messa da Requiem (1874) [89:38]
Barbara Frittoli (soprano); Olga Borodina (mezzo); Mario Zeffiri (tenor);
Ildar Abdrazakov (bass)
Chicago Symphony Chorus; Chicago Symphony Orchestra/Riccardo Muti
rec. live, 15-17 January 2009, Symphony Center, Chicago
Latin text and English, French, German translations included
CSO RESOUND CSOR 901 1008 SACD [48:31 + 41:13]
Riccardo Muti became the Chicago Symphony Orchestra’s tenth Music Director
at the start of the 2010/11 season. Disappointingly, his tenure had scarcely
begun when he was obliged to cancel all his autumn engagements with the orchestra,
due to ill health. It is to be hoped that this will be merely a temporary
setback to the relationship. This recording of the Verdi Requiem, though taken
from performances given before he took up the music directorship, is issued
to mark the start of his appointment.
By a curious irony, on the morning that I sat down at my computer to type
up this review I looked first at MusicWeb International and found there the
review
by Mark Sealey of the latest reincarnation of EMI’s classic Giulini
recording of the same work. That was the recording with which I grew up and
I agree with most of what Mark had to say about it, including the reservations.
In fact, I think that in a number of ways Giulini’s interpretation of
the work is heard to even better advantage on two live recordings issued by
BBC Legends, either the 1963 account (review)
or, even more so, the 1964 performance (review).
It has always seemed to me that Giulini captures the essence of this work
with particular success though several other conductors, ranging as widely
as Toscanini and Sir John Eliot Gardiner, have set down memorable interpretations.
But though I retain my affection and admiration for Giulini’s way with
the Requiem I was very keen to hear Muti’s reading.
Muti has established a formidable reputation over the years as a Verdi conductor
in the opera house and he’s also a noted interpreter of the Requiem.
If I remember correctly, he made a recording of the work for EMI when he was
Music Director of the Philharmonia Orchestra. So the work was a logical choice
for him to programme with the Chicago orchestra, especially as it gave him
an early chance to work also with the CSO’s celebrated chorus.
The Muti strikes me as being more overtly dramatic than Giulini’s conception.
That’s not to say that Giulini played down the work’s dramatic
(or operatic) side - certainly not during the early 1960s, at any rate - but
Giulini had a somewhat more reflective approach. You can get a good idea of
Muti’s approach from his comments in the booklet. Actually I only read
these after I’d listened to the performance but, having heard
him conduct the work, his reflections on it came as no great surprise. He
has this to say; “Verdi reflects the way we Italians communicate with
God, which is very dramatic. When we are in a church, we are on our knees,
but we don’t ask God to help us and to give us eternal freedom - we
demand it.” Later on, he says: “The Verdi Requiem is a fight between
men, women, and God. We ask God to take responsibility, and even when we pray
to him in the most tender way, his answer is always aggressive and without
pity.” I wonder whether all of Muti’s fellow countrymen - let
alone Christian believers of other nationalities - would endorse the last
few words of that last statement. But it seems to be his view of the relationship
between Italians and the Deity and clearly it colours his approach to this
particular work.
However, the interpretation we hear doesn’t turn out to be quite so
no-holds-barred as those comments might lead one to expect. The big dramatic
moments are extremely exciting: the Dies Irae, for example, explodes
in sulphurous vehemence and the Chicago brass section is resplendent and biting
in the Tuba Mirum. But just as noteworthy is Muti’s care for
expressive detail. Thus in the Liber scriptus, when the mezzo soloist
sings ‘Judex ergo cum sedebit’ I can’t recall hearing the
accompanying string chords weighted and accented quite so precisely as Muti
does it (CD 1, track 5 from 2:43). There are many other, similarly felicitous
touches.
There are however occasions when the detail is overdone. Perhaps the most
glaring examples occur in the Libera me. After the soloist’s
opening incantation the chorus murmurs “Libera me, Domine…”,
their music notated mainly in quavers and marked senza misura (CD 2,
track 5, from 0:26). This passage is taken more slowly than I can ever recall
hearing it and the words are moulded in such a way as to sound somewhat mannered.
At the very end of the movement it’s the turn of the solo soprano to
intone these words over a sustained choral chord. Again, the music is far
too drawn out and, whatever effect Muti was striving to achieve, the result
sounds affected. On two occasions soloists indulge in mannerisms that may
grate with listeners on repeated hearings and I can only think what each singer
does was at the conductor’s behest. The first of these - and it comes
at a crucial point in the score (CD 1, track 6, 3:54) - is immediately before
the basses thunder “Rex tremendae majestatis”. The soprano soloist
has a very exposed octave drop on the word “securus”. Barbara
Frittoli lands beautifully in the low G but then slurs up to the A flat which
the basses are about to sing. There may be some justification for this of
which I’m unaware but it’s certainly not in my vocal score nor
have I ever heard this done in performance. There’s a similar occurrence
in the Lacrimosa (CD 1, track 11, 5:07) where the bass soloist, having
sung a row of D flats, slides up from the last of them to the E flat that
he’s going to sing next. Again, this isn’t in the score and, whatever
the reasons for it, the effect is ugly. I’m sorry if this seems like
nitpicking but what might have passed unnoticed in a live performance may
not stand the test of repeated listening.
Muti’s solo team is a pretty strong one. Barbara Frittoli sings well,
though her vibrato is on the generous side at times. She’s passionate
and intense, yet controlled, in the Libera me and elsewhere she caps
the solo quartet very effectively. Olga Borodina is a true Verdian mezzo.
She and Frittoli blend very well in Muti’s gentle and prayerful reading
of the Agnus Dei. Earlier in the work she’s commanding and full-toned
in the Liber scriptus and she brings lustre to the Recordare
where, once again, she and Miss Frittoli combine most effectively.
I can’t recall hearing either of the men before. I am in two minds about
Mario Zeffiri. He does some very fine things, almost invariably when singing
quietly. In the Ingemisco his delivery of ‘Inter oves’
is light and airy and he’s even more pleasing at ‘Hostias et preces’
in the Offertorio (CD 2, track 1 from 4:23). This is taken at an expansive
tempo by Muti but Zeffiri copes well, displaying good breath control and impressing
particularly with his sweet tone. However, he’s less comfortable when
the vocal line goes above the stave and he’s required to sing loudly.
At such points he sounds strained, his vibrato becomes wide and there’s
a tendency to spread some notes. This can be heard, for example, in the louder
sections of the Recordare and here, and elsewhere, he occasionally
elides the words - something I hate - so that we hear “in-a parte dextra”.
I note that his brief biography in the booklet emphasises his prowess in the
bel canto repertoire and I wonder if this role is a bit too heavy and
taxing for him.
Ildar Abdrazakov is more consistently impressive. He provides a black, solid
tonal foundation to the solo team - for example at the start of the Lux
aeterna - and he’s a commanding presence in such passages as ‘Confutatis
maledictis’ (CD 1, track 10). Yet in that very section, immediately
afterwards at ‘Oro supplex’, he shows he can also offer some really
sensitive, quiet singing. He matches Olga Borodina’s sensitivity in
the Lacrymosa and, overall, makes a very favourable impression.
The choral singing is very good. There were a few occasions - in the Kyrie
for instance - when I thought the choir should have achieved a quieter dynamic;
Verdi’s instructions for pp and ppp are not always obeyed.
However, the choral contribution is always incisive and, when required, these
Chicagoans can really turn on the power. They also possess vocal agility,
which is just as well in the Sanctus, for which Muti sets a challenging
presto tempo. Yet the choir meets the challenge head-on and deliver lithe,
precise singing.
I’ve already commented on the orchestral contribution, which is excellent
throughout. We know that the Chicago Symphony can really turn on the power
when it matters and they remind us of that on several occasions here, producing
imperious playing in loud passages without any sense of strain. But just as
impressive - in fact, more impressive - is their response to Muti’s
more subtle demands. The performance of the Offertorio is a conspicuous
all-round success, with all four soloists making distinguished contributions.
But the orchestral playing is equally impressive and nowhere more so than
in the last few bars, where the players bring the movement to a hushed close
with playing of great finesse and refinement.
I’ve highlighted a few reservations but overall this is an impressive
recording to which I’m sure I’ll return in the future. The very
high standard of the performance bodes well for the partnership between Muti
and the Chicago Symphony and it is to be hoped that he’ll make a full
recovery from his illness and return to their rostrum, as planned, early in
2011. The recorded sound, as usual from this source, is very good, combining
amplitude and clarity.
John Quinn
Despite a few reservations, overall this is an impressive recording of Verdi’s
Requiem.
Masterwork Index: Verdi's Requiem