It seemed curiously appropriate that I was listening to Britten’s
own performance of the War Requiem when I heard the sad
news of Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau’s death. He was the composer’s
choice for the baritone part at the premiere of this great work
in 1962. His performance in the subsequent Decca recording was
simply unforgettable. Since then there have been a number of
fine versions, but for all their strengths none has the immediacy
and insight of the composer’s own. That said, Giulini’s
live Albert Hall performance in April 1969 (BBC Legends) comes
closest to it in spirit. Also, I was much impressed by Kurt
Masur’s recording. His baritone Gerald Finley is especially
affecting (LPO).
First impressions of this newcomer are entirely favourable.
Those strange, twisting figures in the Requiem aeternam
are as haunting as ever. The notorious Barbican acoustic seems
less of a problem too, although anyone familiar with John Culshaw’s
more spacious Decca recording will miss the sense of a larger
performing space. The upside is that the LSO Live account has
great clarity and tonal sophistication. The Eltham choir is
crisp and well balanced. By contrast Bostridge and Keenlyside
are rather distant and their presentation of the alliterative
Anthem for Doomed Youth is less emphatic than that of
Pears and Fischer-Dieskau. As for the soprano Sabina Cvilak,
she sings most beautifully but is nowhere near as commanding
as Vishnevskaya in the vaulting Liber scriptus.
The LSO certainly play well and the brass in the Dies irae
are especially thrilling. As for the tam-tam in Be slowly
lifted up it’s allowed to sound and resonate to great
effect. No-one could be unshaken by the music that follows.
Its ever-slowing tread and Cvilak’s perfectly scaled delivery
are simply superb. All else pales next to Bostridge’s
deeply moving, extraordinarily nuanced singing in Futility.
Time stands still here, and I can’t recall a finer account
of Owen’s sad supplication than this, either on record
or in the concert hall. It’s also a measure of Britten’s
genius that this music never loses its power to astound. The
simplest means are used to convey the most complex of human
emotions.
The LSO chorus deserve a mention in dispatches. Their quiet
singing in Pie Jesu is ineffably beautiful. It’s
at moments like these that the subtleties of this Super Audio
recording are most evident. There are no problems at the other
end of the dynamic spectrum either. The muscular drum thwacks
and deep-throated brass in Sed signifer sanctus are very
well caught. Bostridge and Keenlyside’s Parable of
the Young Man and the Old is exquisitely done. The gorgeous
harp and well-matched singers meld into another of those heart-stopping
epiphanies that seem to be a Britten speciality. Gerald Finley
and Anthony Dean Griffey blend well for Masur, whose live account
also has a dramatic intensity and seamlessness that’s
very impressive indeed.
The Sanctus, with its strange instrumental crescendi
and angelus-like orchestral/vocal swings, is certainly powerful.
That said, it doesn’t quite efface memories of Britten’s
uniquely arresting version. Although Cvilak doesn’t have
the heft of Brewer or Vishnevskaya she does compensate with
a clean, wobble-free delivery. Once again Keenlyside sings most
feelingly - yet without a hint of false sentiment - in The
End. As for Noseda one has to applaud him for maintaining
such a tight ensemble and for responding so sympathetically
to his soloists.
It just gets better. The instrumental/vocal rise and fall of
the Agnus Dei is as haunting as one could wish. The dry,
metallic rumble of timps in the Libera me is very effective
too, adding its own garish hue to this hellish scene. Indeed,
I’ve rarely heard such a myriad of colours and textures
as revealed by this fine recording. If Culshaw and his team
excelled at the broad brush, the LSO Live engineers are masters
of telling detail. That said, the climactic moments of the Libera
me are unleashed with an unbridled energy that will take
your breath away.
After that Bostridge and Keenlyside’s account of Strange
Meeting is indescribably moving. It’s another of those
moments when nothing else could possibly matter but the focused
horror of this imagined, subterranean encounter. Not surprisingly
the hush in the hall - it’s a remarkably subdued audience
for November - is complete, everyone under Britten’s spell.
That’s where live recordings come into their own; few
studio ones offer that sense of deep communion, of shared, collective
emotion. ‘I am the enemy you killed, my friend’,
one of Owen’s most powerful lines, has a frisson
like nothing else in this score. The music of Let us sleep
now and the solemn Requiescat speak of a healing
embrace and of comfort.
I doubt anyone in the hall was not moved - and moved mightily
- by this most profound performance. It seems almost sacrilegious,
in this sombre context, to cheer the conductor, soloists, orchestra,
choirs and engineers but they deserve it. This is a triumph
for all concerned. What I would have given to be at the Barbican
that night. Still, we have an unforgettable record of that event,
even if - as is usually the case - it’s assembled from
more than one performance. Does it supplant Britten’s
own? No, and I doubt anything ever could. That said, I can’t
emphasise more strongly how compelling this newcomer is, and
how important that anyone who knows and loves the War Requiem
should hear it.
Dan Morgan
http://twitter.com/mahlerei
Britten discography & review index: War
Requiem
Ian Bostridge (tenor) 
[46:35 + 37:13] 