The
Berlioz
Requiem is God’s gift to hi-fi freaks and
headbangers. Written for huge orchestra, choruses, tenor,
augmented percussion and four brass choirs this monster of
a piece will give your system a real workout. The spatial
effects are particularly well suited to multi-channel set-ups,
which may explain why there are no less than seven SACD versions
of the
Requiem in the current catalogue.
But,
as with Richard Strauss, there is considerably more to Hector
Berlioz than these big works might suggest. The
Requiem is
no exception, blessed as it is with some of the composer’s
most original – and profound – writing. It’s certainly been
more successful on record than its companion, the
Te Deum, beginning
with Beecham’s famous mono recording (BBC Legends 4011),
The Maurice Abravanel, Charles Munch and Sir Colin Davis
sets have all been re-mastered for SACD, the latter enthusiastically
welcomed by Leslie Wright (see
review). I
was also much impressed by Davis’s more recent live account
from Dresden (see
review).
As
far as ‘native’ SACD versions are concerned Sir Roger Norrington
(Hänssler 93131), Robert Spano (Telarc 60627) and Sylvain
Cambreling have the field to themselves. Norrington is very
much an acquired taste in this repertoire and I’m not at
all convinced by the sonics either. Spano has the benefit
of superb engineering, and as Telarc offer separate SACD
and CD versions of the work it fits neatly on one disc. Of
the re-mastered sets Munch’s suffers from wiry treble and
shows signs of strain in the big climaxes. And although it’s
reasonably well sung and played it strikes me as a rather
lightweight performance.
Which
leaves Davis’s 40-year-old recording; it’s the most satisfying
all-rounder and the one that others must challenge, let alone
equal. In Davis’s hands the
Kyrie is beautifully phrased,
the LSO playing with real passion and commitment. Even allowing
for its vintage the sound is rich and sonorous, the acoustic
of Westminster Cathedral adding a welcome sense of space
and spectacle to the proceedings. By contrast Cambreling’s
Kyrie seems
curiously mannered, with somewhat exaggerated dynamics and
little sense of a large acoustic.
According
to the CD booklet Cambreling’s performance was cobbled together
from two performances in two completely different venues,
which must have created a few headaches for the engineers.
As for a sense of continuity, the
Requiem is conceived
as a mighty musical and dramatic arch, something that Davis
conveys very well indeed. But, more than that, Davis is most
attuned to Berlioz’s innate theatricality, so the build-up
to the
Dies irae and
Tuba mirum is convincingly
paced and thrillingly realised. There is absolutely no sense
of cumulative tension in Cambreling’s account, and although
he has the more modern recording this is one
Day of Judgement that
won’t wake the dead.
.
Despite
its age – which it disguises rather well – Davis’s recording
shows little sign of stress in these big moments, although
at times there are shifts of aural perspective. This hardly
matters when the conductor digs deep and finds so much detail
and nuance in the score. By comparison Cambreling seems positively
diffident, rarely uncovering those elusive rhythms and colours.
Only in the
Rex tremendae is there a hint of passion
and bite, but again Davis alone sustains the essential thrust
and vigour of this music, helped by full-blooded contributions
from singers and players alike.
And
that’s what really sets these two performances apart. Cambreling
sounds bland and, like Norrington, smoothes over the work’s
sometimes extreme contrasts. Davis has fire in his belly,
and it shows in every bar. Indeed, at a Proms performance
of the
Requiem a few years back the now elderly conductor
was so animated during the
Tuba mirum that he parted
company with his glasses. Somehow I can’t imagine the same
happening to Cambreling; for instance, he doesn’t get nearly
as much ‘swing’ from the
Lacrymosa as Davis does.
Sonically the old Philips recording is much more detailed
and wide-ranging too – those timp rolls are especially effective – which
goes to show that there’s simply no substitute for good engineering.
By
the time I reached the end of the
Lacrymosa – and
the first disc – I was feeling distinctly underwhelmed. Indeed,
I couldn’t summon up a single positive response to the performance
thus far. No, Davis was never in danger of losing his crown
to this pale pretender, as Cambreling’s bloodless
Offertorium so
amply demonstrates. Part of the problem with this performance
is its scale – singers and players sound too thin and too
stretched, with none of the heft this work so clearly deserves.
On top of that Cambreling micro-manages the music too much,
lingering and prodding to the detriment of momentum and line.
As always Davis takes the long view, sounding utterly natural
and spontaneous throughout.
As
for Cambreling’s young singers they acquit themselves well
in the
Hostias, but the conductor’s fastidious reading
makes the music seem oddly disjointed. Indeed, this is a
prime example of where a sense of line and overall structure
really matters; even Davis’s tenor, Ronald Dowd, launches
his soaring
Sanctus with a marvellous feeling for
the part’s long, unfurling phrases. Paul Groves, for Cambreling,
is placed well back and, in fairness, this is probably more
like one would hear it in the concert hall. That said, Dowd
is the most ardent and moving soloist of all.
Stasis
can so easily set in during the latter half of the
Sanctus and
that’s also where Davis’s more purposeful approach pays dividends.
Paradoxical as it may seem, Cambreling’s
Sanctus sounds
too ‘churchy’ for my tastes, making Berlioz sound more like
watered-down Gounod than the forward-looking composer he
undoubtedly was. Berlioz seldom played it safe, and despite
some roughness and imprecision Davis’s risk-taking approach
is far preferable to Cambreling’s anodyne one.
And,
oh, how prosaic this
Agnus Dei sounds, even with heartfelt
singing from the EuropaChorAkademie. As for the sombre brass
that launch out into the void like departing souls the SWR
players simply can’t match their British counterparts for
sheer
frisson. This is surely one of the most deeply
affecting passages in all Berlioz and, as always, Davis judges
the music’s rise and fall to perfection. Cambreling’s habit
of parenthesising – first a distraction and then an irritation – simply
impedes the music’s gradual descent towards those final ‘Amens’.
Once again Davis seems most attuned to the music’s natural
ebb and flow, gently lifting and propelling his beautifully
blended singers and players towards the work’s quiet, but
radiant, close.
Not
since Norrington’s idiosyncratic recording of the
Requiem have
I felt so deflated by this astounding work. Normally one
might expect to feel either shaken or deeply moved – possibly
both – but not indifferent. Sadly Cambreling’s performance
falls into this latter category; it’s just too safe and uninspiring
to make a lasting impression. If anything this newcomer confirms
the enduring virtues of Davis’s set; the latter may be challenged,
even equalled, but it’s unlikely to be surpassed.
But
wait, there’s more. The double gatefold CD ‘box’ – already
looking a bit battered – contains a bonus DVD as well. This
includes: clips from other Glor audio releases; a film about
the creation of a European cantata; a profile of the EuropaChorAkademie
entitled
Musik verbindet; a ‘Making of...’ documentary
on Cambreling’s
L’enfance du Christ; and the trailer
for
a DVD of Plácido Domingo conducting
Verdi’s
Requiem.
The
laudable theme throughout is young musicians and the unifying
power of great music. The cantata piece is mildly interesting,
and with 26 countries contributing
this makes the Tower of Babel look like a low-rise. But in
Musik
verbindet chorus master Joshard Daus’s EuropaChorAkademie
looks – and sounds – like a splendid group of singers. What
a pity they aren’t heard to best advantage in the Berlioz
Requiem.
The ‘Making
of...’ documentary isn’t especially insightful, although
there is some lovely singing from the choir. Regrettably
the final bars of
L’enfance – Berlioz at his most
tender – were spoilt by a skipping disc.
It’s
good to see Domingo on the podium, although I wasn’t too
impressed with his conducting of the Zeffirelli
Traviata a
few years back. Here the EuropaChorAkadmie are joined by
the Youth Orchestra of America who, if the short excerpts
are anything to go by, produce a thrilling performance of
this other great
Requiem. Definitely one to watch
out for.
Dan
Morgan
Paul Groves
(tenor) 
