In the eighteenth century it was quite natural that any composer in
a Catholic country would compose settings of the Ordinary of the Mass,
often a great many of them. In the nineteenth century the attention
of composers began to move towards the
Requiem, presumably because
its texts were more attractive for dramatic music. From the twentieth
century onwards it has become far more common for composers to set at
least part of the text of the Latin Requiem than of the Latin Mass.
Here we have yet another to add to that list, by Zdeněk Lukáš.
This is the
second time that Lukáš has set the
text of the Latin
Requiem; his earlier version was for chorus and
orchestra. His approach to the words is novel. He trims the text heavily,
omitting much of the
Dies irae, the
Benedictus and most of the
Offertorium. What remains is set in a sequence of seven movements
which mirror each other in a fast and slow pattern. The omission of the
passages in the
Dies irae after the
Tuba mirum leaves a rather
unmotivated movement which seems to go nowhere. On the other hand, the
Lacrymosa which follows immediately has an attractive yearning
quality. The main problem is the lack of sheer memorability, although the
melody of the
Hostias is very beautiful. The rest is treated in a
thoroughly tonal manner, and the overall effect is pleasant if not
conspicuously engaging. Is not the problem really that the text of the
Requiem has been so heavily worked over the years that - unless the
composer brings a new slant to it, as Britten did in the
War Requiem
with the juxtaposition of the Latin words with Wilfred Owen - there is not
much that can be done with it that is truly original? The performance is
excellent.
The other works on this disc tackle less well-worn texts, with the
possible exception of György Orbán’s treatment of the
Stabat mater. The pieces by Antonín Tučapský are
more elaborate in their style than the Lukáš
Requiem, but
some of the ideas the composer uses are dubious - in particular the choral
glissandos in the
Veni Sancte Spiritus (track 8, 2.54 and
subsequently) sound more like token modernist gestures in the direction of
Penderecki rather than a motivated response to the text. The
Five Lenten
motets are more straightforward, and all the better for it. The sound is
gently bruising but romantic in feel, rather like Rubbra in fact, and the
choir sing the
pianissimo passages with lovely tone.
Pater mi,
the second of the motets, is particularly beautiful.
György Orbán’s setting of the
Stabat mater
concentrates rather more on the agony than the ecstasy of the sequence, but
other than that it tends to lack a distinct profile. It also has a modern
feeling and an advanced idiom. The effect is not unpleasant, and the setting
of the
Cor mundum, moving in block chords, makes a fine conclusion to
the disc.
Regardless of the music itself, the performances by the Dresden Motet
Choir under Matthias Jung are admirable. They are totally unfazed by
some of the tricky harmonies they have to negotiate, and the tonal blend
is superlative. They don’t sound totally convinced by those glissandi
in Tučapský’s
Stabat mater; then again, neither
am I. Otherwise they don’t put a foot wrong, and the recorded
sound is nicely distant and resonant.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
