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