Bruno MADERNA (1920-1973)
Requiem (1946) [59:53]
Diana Tomsche (soprano)
Kathrin Göring (contralto)
Bernhard Berchtold (tenor)
Renatus Mészár (bass)
MDR Rundfunkchor Leipzig/Bart van Reyn
Robert-Schumann-Philharmonie/Frank Beermann
rec. 9 September 2013, Stadthalle, Chemnitz.
CAPRICCIO C5231 [59:53]
This release is quite a discovery, not only in the sense of
the history of its score but in the nature of the music that unfolds before
us. Bruno Maderna’s Requiem was considered lost for many years.
Maderna fought as a partisan during WWII and was taken prisoner by the SS.
About this experience the composer later said “at that moment it was
the only possibility to write a requiem and then to die.” Subsequent
hopes of a performance in the US never materialised, and the score ended up
in the Library of Purchase College of New York. It was eventually premiered
in the Teatro la Fenice in Venice in November 2009 – around 36 years
after Maderna’s death.
Maderna saw this Requiem as a milestone in his compositional development,
but those of us who know his music from the avant-garde Darmstadt school will
be surprised to hear the work open with that most tonal of perfect intervals,
an open fifth. The first sections are indeed quite romantic in style, and
the booklet notes suggests that an intensive study of examples by Giuseppe
Verdi and Hector Berlioz will have had a strong influence. Closer to the surface
are the sounds of Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms and the harmonies
of Hindemith. While certain passages and the sonorities of the often sparing
instrumental accompaniment give rise to similarities there are however relatively
few places that clearly refer to other music.
After the gentler Requiem and Kyrie eleison more dramatic
effects and musical extremes are reserved for the massive Dies irae
that makes up the bulk of Part One. After Maderna’s experiences
this could hardly be anything other than a ‘War Requiem’, and
the work is nothing short of a pacifist manifesto with an impact comparable
to Michael Tippett’s A Child of Our Time. Part Two
opens with hefty bell-like chords for the Domine Jesu, with the light
and dark of female and male voices playing against each other, the Sanctus
opening out into a massed crowd of angels. The Benedictus opens with
an eloquent orchestral section, the words taken by the soprano soloist. There
are some magical moments in the Agnus Dei which breaks out halfway
into a lilting tune of disarming naivety – this is most certainly a
work filled with surprises. The descending lines of the Lux aeterna
embody a kind of eternal procession of grief shot through with defiance, while
the final Libera me is by no means an upbeat conclusion, its intensity
gradually diffusing into a silence shaped by that single trombone, the recurring
beat of a drum, and a halo of lonely strings.
This live recording is pretty good, with a few distant noises from the audience
but nothing too serious. Presentation for the release is also fine, though
texts are given in Latin and German but not with an English translation. The
performance is passionate and the solo voices tend to crowd out the orchestra
here and there but in general the balance is effective in delivering the moods
and wide contrasts in this remarkable piece. The soloists are all good enough
though I wouldn’t point out anyone as uniquely outstanding. I’m
sure on this showing that this is a work which, if not likely to enter core
repertoire, has a fair chance of being recorded more than once now it has
finally seen the light of day.
Dominy Clements
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