The City of London Festival has been a flourishing event
for forty years now, so it was appropriate that its last major musical
event of this season, in the splendid surroundings of St. Paul’s, should
be Britten’s ‘Requiem,’ first performed forty years ago in another,
very different cathedral. The concert was sponsored by PriceWaterhouseCoopers,
thus ensuring the presence of that well – known London species, the
Corporate Wife in all her languid, designer –dressed and perfectly coiffed
boredom, but such was the nature of the venue and the work itself that
it was possible to ignore the yawning and eyes –raised –to heaven glances
and concentrate on the music itself.
And what music it is, performed here with ravishing
lustre by the LSO, an orchestra which has not put a finger wrong this
season; Davis conducted a completely convincing account of the score,
with highly dramatic playing from the very first moments of that portentous
tritone to the subdued grandeur of the final passage. The LSO Chorus
equalled this with intense, sharply focussed singing, particularly in
the most powerful ‘Dies Irae’ that I’ve heard, and they were wonderfully
echoed by the Choristers of the Cathedral; the programme reminded us
that there has been a choir of ‘Boy Choristers and Gentlemen’ at St.
Paul’s for over nine centuries, and that long tradition was evident
in the superb freshness of their phrasing and the clarity of their diction
– ‘In paradisum’ was especially fine.
Britten originally wanted a certain mixture of nationalities
amongst the soloists, and nowadays most performances of the work tend
to aim for that, at least with the male parts, with pairings such as
Bostridge/Quasthoff/ and Ainsley/Mohr, but here both tenor and baritone
were as British as could be, and the soprano was Erin Wall, a rising
star from the Chicago Lyric Opera. Anthony Rolfe Johnson might
be described as the very incarnation of what we mean when we use the
phrase ‘English Tenor’ (although the somewhat quixotic -to put it gently
- programme tries to convince us otherwise by referring to him as ‘One
of the USA’s most distinguished singers…’ – someone needs to do their
homework) and this (Oxfordshire – born) great singer lives in my memory
for his still – unequalled Aschenbach and Male Chorus, and his uniquely
touching interpretations of Bach and Schubert. Sadly, however, his voice
is no longer what it was, and he simply could not command sufficient
amplitude of tone to make the words tell, which is doubly unfortunate
since his diction and phrasing have always been exemplary. It was only
in such lines as ‘But where the lamb for this burnt offering?’ that
one could catch echoes of his former greatness, and to put it bluntly
I think it is time for him to retire from live performance and concentrate
on teaching, for which he obviously has almost as great a gift.
Alan Opieis mainly known as a fine opera singer;
I still treasure memories of his hysterically funny ENO Barber, and
the character of his singing reveals his background on the stage. The
baritone has, perhaps, the easier part here, both in terms of the music
and making himself heard in such a setting, and Opie gave a solid, thoughtful
performance, carefully shaping the lines and bringing the drama of Owen’s
poems to life even though he lacked that last ounce of passion and moving
quality in his singing with which we have come to be familiar from such
interpreters as Quasthoff and Maltman. Nevertheless, he suggested the
soldier’s bravado in ‘Out there, we’ve walked quite friendly up to death’
and blended beautifully with Rolfe Johnson in ‘Let us sleep now.’
Erin Wallis a singer new to me, and she is extremely
promising, with a powerful, rich tone and sympathetic phrasing, although
at times a slightly hard edge seemed to creep in. She negotiated the
challenging lines of ‘Liber scriptor’ most impressively, and her ‘Lacrimosa’
was beautifully shaped. All of the singers, in fact, managed to achieve
Britten’s desired effect of combining drama with tenderness, and the
closing minutes of the work, from the baritone’s ‘I am the enemy you
killed, my friend’ were especially moving, with their unique blending
of texts and voices; when the end was followed by a long silence I was
unsure as to whether this meant that most of the audience didn’t know
it was all over, or that the performers were being accorded the accolade
which was surely their due.
Melanie Eskenazi
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