Johannes BRAHMS (1833-1897)
Ein deutsches Requiem, Op. 45 (1868)
Solveig Kringelborn (soprano); Mariusz Kwiecien (baritone)
Swedish Radio Choir; Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra/Valéry Gergiev.
rec. live, de Doelen Concert Hall, Rotterdam, 25 May 2008. DDD
Region 0. NTSC. 16:9. Stereo. Linear PCM.
BIS DVD-1750 [79:20]
Bit of a shock to the system to see Gergiev on BIS, but here he is courtesy
of his affiliation with the Rotterdam Philharmonic. In fact, this was an historic
concert in the history of that orchestra, for it marked the close of Gergiev’s
tenure as principal conductor, a post he had held since 1995. A lasting legacy
of this partnership is the Rotterdam Philharmonic Gergiev Festival.
The Swedish Radio Choir is a splendid group of singers, trained to be perfectly
balanced in pianissimo (“Selig sind”), and able to lighten its tone wonderfully
(the fourth movement, “Wie lieblich sind”) as well as provide plenty of punch
in climaxes. Gergiev’s pacing, too, is carefully considered. Having heard
Gergiev many times live, I am acutely aware that he can disappoint as effectively
as he can impress. Thankfully, this is one of the latter occasions. The ability
to hear and pace in the longer term is crucial to the extended second movement,
“Denn alles Fleisch ist wie Gras”, and Gergiev’s sculpting of the climaxes
is beyond reproach. The sudden arrival of “Aber des Herrn Wort” is undervalued,
though. The same thing can hardly be said of the apocalyptic choral demands
of “Tod, wo ist dein Stachel? Hölle, wo ist dein Sieg?” (Death, where is thy
sting? Grave, whee is thy victory?), a massively confident challenge to Death
itself.
The young Polish baritone Mariusz Kwiecien creates a beautifully rounded sound
in his “Herr, lehre doch mich”, yet he also conveys the element of urgent
prayer implicit in the text. Beauty of sound is also in evidence from the
ladies of the Swedish Radio Choir towards the end of this movement, a purity
that seems entirely apt in context. Kwiecien has the large sound required
to bring off the heftier parts of the penultimate movement, too (“Denn wir
haben hier keine bleibende Stadt”).
The clear highlight of the performance, though, is Solveig Kringelborn’s reading
of her solo movement, “Ihr habt nur Traurigkeit”, a remarkably pure yet utterly
heartfelt delivery of the touching text.
All the familiar elements of Gergiev’s conducting are there, from fluttering
hands to circular beats. Parts of his Deutsches Requiem are positively
incendiary, something that here functions to highlight the more reflective
passages. This is a remarkably involving reading, more of a dramatic journey
than most. The end of the journey is the tender “Selig sind die Toten”, a
mirror image of the first movement in many ways.
Camera work is serviceable if, on occasion, quite random as to what instrument(s)
we see and when. Occasionally a moving head might intervene, briefly, between
camera and main subject.
There don’t appear to be any subtitling options available, so an on-screen
translation of the text is out of reach. The text and English translation
is provided at the back of the booklet.
Well worth experiencing. The circumstances of performance – Gergiev’s departure
from Rotterdam – clearly inspired all present to give all of themselves.
Colin Clarke