I could save you time
and patience dear reader and say simply
at the outset: beg, steal or borrow
the pennies necessary to rush out and
buy this issue without delay. Anyone
remotely committed to Berlioz surely
loves this work, and equally will respond
to this masterly interpretation.
Moreover the soloist,
choir and orchestra are at their considerable
best, whilst the sound and picture quality,
although not exhibiting the very latest
in range and sharpness, is generally
admirable. The direction is unobtrusive
and captures most of the scale, shape
and incident of the performance.
Like several of Berlioz’s
major compositions the Requiem has a
somewhat tortuous history. France at
the time wanted choral music as a public
ceremonial; a chance to "gather
the nation", as it were, in a communal
exhibition of national self-esteem and
well-being. Indeed this was a continuation
of a tradition, exemplified by composers
such as Gossec and Méhul, of
grand choral/orchestral scores designed
for public display and ceremonial.
Berlioz revealed that
he had: "long coveted (the text
of) the requiem; at last it was mine
and I fell upon it in a sort of fury.
My brain seemed ready to burst under
the pressure of creative ferment."
The opportunity had
been provided by a government commission
in April 1837. Unfortunately the power
behind the decision, Minister of the
Interior Gasparin, was ousted in an
autumn reshuffle, and the Requiem’s
future looked in doubt. However news
came through in October of that year
of the death of one General Damremont,
who had perished during an assault on
the town of Constantine as part of the
colonial campaign in Algeria. The death
of a prominent soldier gave new impetus
for public ceremonial, and so the decision
was given for the Grande Messe des
Morts to be aired.
In his studies with
Le Suer - another Frenchman who had
also taken the "king’s shilling"
by producing works for open-air exposition
- Berlioz discussed at length the fitness
of music for its intended performance
space. He frequently felt that music
was played in venues too large for it
to make its proper effect.
Thus given the opportunity
to write a work for a cathedral or similar
venue Berlioz’s scoring expanded to
fit the purpose. The Requiem therefore
includes a string ensemble of 108, a
tenor soloist, a choir of at least three
to four hundred (more if circumstances
permit), twelve horns (placed in the
main orchestra), four brass sections
(trumpets, trombones, tubas, placed
separately from the orchestra), sixteen
timpani (eight players), four tam-tams
and ten sets of cymbals.
Some have pointed to
these enormous resources and dismissed
the work as just a gigantic orgy of
deafening sound. This utterly misses
the point. Yes the composer seizes the
dramatic elements in the text and uses
the considerable forces to underline
several key points – the day of judgement
after all, especially given the socio-political
context of the time, would hardly be
appropriately rendered with a finger
cymbal and a string quartet!
However it is vital
to realise that the enormous reach of
the Requiem and the ability of the score
to resonate through a vast space is
achieved not, in large part, by use
of massive waves of sound, but by great
restraint, delicate passage-work and
a clarity, even a certain "hollowness",
to the textures. There is interest and
beauty in the inner lines, but it is
not the richness of a Brahms or a Bruch;
instead there is a spareness and a gentle
luminosity redolent of the light of
Berlioz’s beloved ancient Greece.
Berlioz, we must recall,
did not have a standard musical upbringing.
He pointedly bemoaned in his memoirs
his household’s lack of that essential
tool for a composer, a piano. Instead
for many boyhood years his experience
of musical performance revolved around
the church choir, and the wind band
of Côte St André.
The latter I am convinced
had a profound and lasting effect upon
his "sound", a factor that
Davis appreciates as almost no other.
The clarity, the sinuous interweaving
lines, the decay of phrases in the Requiem
are reproduced in a masterly fashion,
which very few have equalled. There
is an hypnotic beauty about much of
the music, and this performance, which
is totally captivating.
I only have a couple
of tiny quibbles. Regensburg Cathedral
has a more than adequate space and ambience,
but seemingly not sufficient to allow
the four brass sections to be placed
at the points of the compass. True this
has minimal effect on stereophonic sound,
but it could have added something to
the vision. Anyone who has experienced
the Requiem thus will never have forgotten
the impact.
Also Davis’s performance
isn’t a carbon copy of his 1969 Philips
audio set (416 283-2) or his performance
recently at the RAH Proms. The Rex
Tremendae is taken a little slower
and hasn’t quite persuaded me ... at
least not yet. Much ... much more though
works sublimely well, and I am not embarrassed
to report that there were more than
a few tears during the Quarens Me
... music of the spheres if ever
there was.
Enough – those who
dismiss this masterwork as a grandiloquent,
self promotional/public relations exercise,
will not be convinced even if a free
twenty pound note were miraculously
attached to this review.
Meanwhile, to the Berlioz
lover – don’t hesitate.
To those of you who
do not know the score – what a marvel
awaits you. Oh to re-kindle that first
experience of Robert Tear, the Brighton
Festival and London Symphony Choruses,
and London Symphony Orchestra, directed
by the then Colin Davis, experienced
in the dome of St Paul’s at the 1976
City of London Festival!
No, you can’t go back
... but then again ... you can get pretty
close ...
Ian Bailey
Keith Lewis (tenor) 
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