John FRANDSEN (b. 1956)
    Requiem (2010) [96:26]
    Teitur (vocal), Sine Bundgaard (soprano), Andrea Pellegrini (alto), Peter 
    Lodahl (tenor). Halvor F. Meilen (bass)
    Danish National Symphony Orchestra and Choirs/Henrik Vagn Christensen
    rec. 3-6 April 2013, DR Koncerthuset
    
DACAPO SACD 6.220649-50 [62:27 + 34:03]
    
    
 This is a world première recording of Danish composer 
      John Frandsen’s Requiem for soloists, choir and orchestra. 
      It is a complete setting of the entire Medieval Latin text, with the addition 
      of solo hymns set to more recent Danish words. All texts plus translations 
      into English are provided in the booklet. The composer has dedicated his 
      requiem to the victims of the tragedy on the Norwegian island of Utøya in 
      2011, though since the work was completed before this event no claim is 
      made for it as a direct response.
      
      Described as ‘operatic’, this is certainly an atmospheric and 
      colourful work, taking the concept of a Requiem beyond the objective ... 
      and engaging with the tragic worlds created by Benjamin Britten in his War 
      Requiem. The opening Introit sets a promisingly inventive 
      emotional scene with disturbing percussion effects including downward tubular 
      bell glissandi made by moving the tube upwards out of a bucket 
      of water. Dramatic and expressive vocal solo and ensemble writing, the full 
      orchestra and choral interjections all add to the sense of grand dimensions 
      and an ambitious palette. This given, there is a fragmentary feel to the 
      music which seems to look downward into detail rather than allowing a feel 
      of real flow and elevation.
      
      There are a number of Hymn movements, expertly accompanied by Per 
      Salo on organ and sung by popular singer Teitur, full name Teitur Lassen. 
      These settings deliver a more up-to-date feel to the contemporary texts 
      by Simon Grotrian, but the close-miked perspective and dolorous Rufus Wainwright 
      feel to Teitur’s voice is an extreme and uneasy contrast with the 
      rest of the work. My instinct if revising the work would be to remove these 
      altogether or have them as a separate cycle.
      
      There is no escaping the eclectic nature of this Requiem, with 
      little bits of Penderecki-style dramatic choral crowds, Carl Orff-like moments, 
      Messiaen-like bits and even a Martinu moment at 1:48 into the Lacrymosa 
      dies illa, followed by some nice Tippett-like string writing. Frandsen 
      is, to my mind, most effective when he leaves aside the biggest orchestral 
      effects, and the tenderness in some of this Lacrymosa has the potential 
      for real loveliness. The a capella opening to Judex ergo cum 
      sedebit earlier on also has some striking moments, but Frandsen doesn’t 
      allow any real ecstasy to loosen the floodgates of our emotions or genuine 
      strangeness to tease our intellects. He has his Mahler moment in the Pie 
      Jesu, Domine, but we are never permitted any really expressive lines 
      or time to develop an inner emotional dialogue.
      
      This is an impressive work, given a highly effective performance and a stunning 
      recording. Its message will have a wide appeal but I have the feeling the 
      music itself, being tricky to shelve in any straightforward category, may 
      have problems taking on a life of its own. It is tough at times but never 
      hard-hitting enough to stop the traffic. It has beauty, but no movements 
      which are likely to be chosen as a tear-jerker at the movies or for documentaries. 
      We get close in the gentle Lux aeterna but this remains a restless 
      romanticism with its feet on ground which is uncertain and resistant to 
      the genuine germination and nurture of its best ideas. As a Requiem 
      this is not plain-speaking enough to stand alongside the likes of Fauré 
      or Duruflé, nor is it avant-garde enough to be placed with someone like 
      Ligeti. Part of the problem is outlined in the booklet notes, which hold 
      the work up as having found “a new intensity … that meets the 
      present listener halfway” - two elements which surely pull in opposite 
      directions. I don’t want to be met halfway in a Requiem. 
      I want it to take me in whichever direction as far as a piece of music can 
      on that emotional journey, not something which can superficially be rationalised 
      as encapsulating “the unity of the classical and the modernist,” 
      which finds “a new path into the ancient text” but doesn’t 
      have the power or gravitas of its own convictions to escape a shopping list 
      of influences and associations. There is plenty of pace, drama and eloquence 
      here, but for me this is more ‘oratorio’ than ‘requiem’. 
      It sounds cruel to say it, but if you close your eyes and use a little imagination 
      it wouldn’t be too much trouble to substitute the words with some 
      other libretto. I doubt the impact of the music would change hugely as a 
      result.
      
      I would be less critical, but a Requiem is a real opportunity for 
      music to serve a purpose – that for the listener to lose themselves 
      in an emotional connection with memory, reflection on the mortality of ourselves 
      and those we love, discovery of inner places never before visited and a 
      feeling of companionship with the extended family of the human race. Plaudits 
      are richly deserved for the artists involved and for the pioneering publication 
      policy of the DaCapo label with this release. I really wanted to love this 
      remarkable production and be able to sing its praises as eloquently as its 
      soloists sing its texts. In a work which has compositionally had everything 
      thrown at it bar the kitchen sink this has ultimately lost the struggle 
      to find a connection.
      
      Dominy Clements