What does one say about
such a famous recording that has not
already been said – and probably said
better?
As is well known Britten’s
work was commissioned to mark the opening
of the new cathedral in Coventry to
replace the old one, destroyed in the
Blitz. War Requiem was completed
in December 1961 and received its first
performance in the new cathedral on
30 May 1962. The two male soloists then
were Peter Pears and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.
Last minute political sensitivities
meant that Galina Vishnevskaya was unable
to take part. Her place was taken at
ten days notice by Heather Harper and
some people have expressed regret that
Miss Harper was not engaged for this
recording as well, in preference to
the more flamboyant Russian soprano.
Instead Miss Harper had to wait until
1991 to record the work on Richard Hickox’s
Chandos set. I admire Heather Harper
enormously but I think it’s important
to remember that Britten conceived all
three solo roles bearing in mind expressly
the voices of the singers who appear
on this recording. Furthermore, he attached
great symbolic significance to the use
of a Russian, a German and an English
soloist, at least for the première.
The work clearly meant
a lot to Britten, a long-standing pacifist.
As Michael Steinberg has pointed out,
when he wrote it in 1961 it was against
a background of significant international
tension. The fiasco of the Bay of Pigs
took place that year and work started
on the construction of the Berlin Wall.
When one recalls that in addition increasing
numbers of American troops were arriving
in Vietnam the precious nature of peace
for mankind must have seemed very real
to Britten, as to countless others,
whether or not they shared his pacifist
convictions.
This recording was
made around the time of the London première.
For many years it had the field to itself
but gradually other versions have been
set down. Among those that I’ve heard
I esteem particularly those by Rattle
(EMI 7 47034-8) and Hickox (Chandos
CHAN 8983/4). Then 2000 saw the release
of a particularly welcome surprise in
the shape of a live Royal Albert Hall
performance from 1969 in which Carlo
Maria Giulini conducts New Philharmonia
forces while Britten himself directs
the Melos Ensemble. This BBC Legends
set (BBCL 4046-2) is a very special
experience indeed and in many ways it
offers the strongest challenge of all
to Britten’s own recording. I’d strongly
urge any admirer of this work to hear
it.
But returning to this
Britten interpretation after rather
a long time I’ve realised afresh that
this recording is, in the last analysis,
pretty much hors concours. Britten
conducts with unique authority and all
the performers respond with evident
and complete commitment. The playing
of the LSO is magnificently incisive
– the brass and percussion are superbly
biting in the Dies Irae fanfares
and are recorded with tremendous presence.
The Melos Ensemble accompanies the male
soloists with great sensitivity and
no little virtuosity. The combined forces
of the Bach Choir and the LSO Chorus,
trained by Sir David Willcocks, no less,
sing superbly and meet all of Britten’s
stringent demands concerning dynamics.
The boys of Highgate School Choir –
in whose ranks was one John Rutter,
I believe – sing with an innocent purity
and great accuracy, which must have
pleased Britten greatly.
All three soloists
are highly individual artists and, as
such, inevitably court controversy.
It’s possible to find other soloists
on disc who bring different perspectives
and insights to the music. For example,
some may find Galina Vishnevskaya somewhat
histrionic or object to the Slavic timbre
of her voice. For myself, I’m a little
uncomfortable with her pronunciation
and tone at ‘Tremens factus’ in the
Lacrymosa. On the other hand, she’s
majestic and imperious at ‘Liber scriptus
proferetur’ in the Dies Irae and
later on in the same movement, at Lacrymosa
she’s uniquely beseeching. I prefer
both Heather Harper (Hickox) and Elisabeth
Söderström (Rattle) at times
but Vishnevskaya brings something special
to this music.
So does Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.
Returning to the recording for this
review, having not heard it for a while,
I was more aware than before that English
is not his first language. This is particularly
evident in some of his vowel pronunciations.
But the pronunciation is never a distraction
and on the other side of the ledger
there are numerous felicities from this
great artist, who is in sovereign voice.
He’s wonderfully eloquent in ‘Bugles
sang’, conveying superbly the desolation
of Wilfred Owen’s text. Later in the
Dies Irae he’s shatteringly intense
in ‘Be slowly lifted up’. That setting
contains some of the most evocative
music in the whole work and Fischer-Dieskau
imparts terrifying emotion here. As
the work draws to its close the duet
setting of Owen’s poem, ‘Strange Meeting’
finds the German baritone combining
marvellously with Pears. It’s well known
that at the work’s first performance
Fischer-Dieskau was so deeply affected
by this passage that Pears had to assist
him to leave the stage. Much of that
feeling comes across here though both
performers sing with consummate control.
Both John Shirley-Quirk (Hickox) and
Sir Thomas Allen (Rattle) give splendid
accounts of the baritone part in this
work but the authority and insight of
Fischer-Dieskau cannot be denied.
And as for Pears, well
he too is incomparable. He brings a
particular eloquence to ‘Move him gently
into the sun’ and his duet with Fischer-Dieskau,
‘So Abram rose’ in the Offertorium
is magnificent. He surpasses himself
in ‘One ever hangs’ – an inspired setting,
combined with the Agnus Dei of
the Mass – where his singing is most
affecting. Who can hear the final rising
phrase, ‘Dona nobis pacem’, without
hearing in their mind the particular
timbre and inflection of Pears? But
it is in the setting of ‘Strange meeting’
that Pears’ artistry touches greatness.
As he intones the opening line, ‘It
seemed that out of battle I escaped’
and the lines that follow he manages
to combine stillness and aching intensity.
It’s a particularly memorable few moments
in this absorbing work.
As you’ll see from
the timings given above, the original
issue of War Requiem was rather
short measure for two CDs. In 1999 Decca
re-mastered and reissued the recording,
adding a sizeable and very important
bonus in the form of some fifty minutes
of rehearsal sequences captured during
the sessions. It’s this expanded 1999
package that’s issued again here.
There’s an interesting
history behind the rehearsal sequences,
as Donald Mitchell relates in a booklet
note. The recording was made secretly
by producer John Culshaw by the expedient
of leaving open the microphone link
from Britten’s rostrum to the control
room. A couple of short conversations
in the control room were also captured.
For Britten’s fiftieth birthday later
in 1963 Culshaw had the recording transferred
to an LP – with the serial number BB50
– and presented it to Britten. It’s
surprising, perhaps, that Culshaw, who
had worked often with Britten, so badly
misread him for the hypersensitive composer
was "appalled" at what he
saw as a gross intrusion into his privacy
and he made his displeasure very plain
to Culshaw. Knowing what one does of
how prickly Britten could be it’s somewhat
surprising that he didn’t order the
recording to be destroyed. But thankfully
he didn’t and in 1999 the Britten Estate
decided, very wisely, that the recording
was of such interest and value that
it should be published.
I’d not heard these
extracts before and I found them utterly
absorbing. Britten’s voice can be heard
very clearly indeed – and his diction
is crystal clear anyway. The music is
less well caught but that doesn’t matter
in the slightest. In Mitchell’s memorable
phrase we hear "the recording of
War Requiem in the fire of its
making". As someone who has taken
part – at the receiving end – in many
choral rehearsals it was fascinating
– and reassuring – to find some familiar
issues arising. Thus Britten tells his
chorus "I need lots of words".
Intervals, too, can cause problems.
At one point Britten says to the boys
"From A to G is a hell of a long
way – excuse my language". In one
exchange after a playback he compliments
Pears – very rightly – on his very special
singing at the end of the Agnus Dei.
Yet Pears, ever exacting of himself,
says he’d like one more go. Which take
do we hear on the finished recording,
I wonder? There’s an amusing exchange
with Vishnevskaya when he admits that
he finds one passage difficult to conduct
and she asks him, not unreasonably,
why he had written it thus. His disarming
answer is that he didn’t write it for
himself to conduct! One feels that one
is listening in to a bit of musical
history here and even if you already
have this recording of War Requiem
in its original format I’d urge you
to acquire this release also simply
for the sake of these rehearsal sequences
which constitute an invaluable and highly
important historical document and give
us a wonderful insight into how a great
composer and fine conductor gets results.
I mentioned that the
recording has been re-mastered. I’ve
heard from one or two sources that the
original CD issue ( 414 383-3) had a
good deal of hiss, although I’ve never
been acutely conscious of this so I
made a particular point of doing a good
deal of A/B listening to both issues,
using headphones. I concentrated in
particular on quiet passages such as
the very opening; ‘Move him gently into
the sun’; ‘After the blast of lightening’;
and ‘It seemed that out of battle I
escaped’. I have to say that on my equipment
I couldn’t detect any hiss, or any significant
difference between the two copies, though
there is a slightly greater definition
to the re-mastered sound, which is also
noticeable at big moments such as the
apocalyptic brass fanfares in the Dies
Irae. I have noted at the end of this
review the details of my equipment since
it’s perfectly possible that more sensitive
apparatus may make apparent a greater
sonic disparity between the original
issue and this newcomer. However, I
can see no reason to "trade up"
simply on grounds of sound quality.
The sound, it should be said, is absolutely
superb. Climaxes open up wonderfully
yet the most intimate quiet passages
– of which there are many – are captured
in wonderful detail. This recording
is an eloquent testament to the skill
of engineer Kenneth Wilkinson – and
to the superb acoustics of Kingsway
Hall.
I’m delighted to find
that Decca have retained the typically
perceptive and informative booklet essay
by the late Christopher Palmer, which
graced the original issue. However,
I must lament one presentational change.
The original CD issue – and the LPs
– came with a stark, plain black cover
on which were picked out in white nothing
more than the name of the composer and
the title of the work. For this latest
issue we get a reduced picture of that
cover against a blue background. It
may be a small point but why emasculate
one of the most arresting record sleeves
ever produced? Why can’t designers leave
well enough alone and acknowledge the
inspiration of their predecessors without
trying to "improve" it? A
classic case of ‘if it ain’t broke,
don’t fix it.’
As I said earlier,
since this groundbreaking recording
was made forty-three years ago a number
of other distinguished competitors have
entered the lists. I certainly wouldn’t
wish to be without the three that I’ve
mentioned specifically. However, this
Britten recording has an irreplaceable
page in the annals of this wonderful
and profoundly moving work. The plea
for peace that War Requiem embodies
is perhaps even more urgent in 2006
than was the case in 1961. Certainly
it seems to me that the work and this
superb recording, definitive in so many
ways, speak to us as powerfully today
as it ever did.
John Quinn
Equipment used for A/B comparison
CD player: Rotel RCD 9078X
Amplifier: Rotel 8408X3
Headphones: Sennheiser HD480
Galina Vishnevskaya (soprano); Peter Pears (tenor);
Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (baritone) 
