Very few recordings adhere literally to Brahms’ metronome
markings but at just over the hour this performance is the fastest
I know. Many other recordings routinely take anything from 65
to even 75 minutes. As such, Masur’s live version is of
interest because it takes the risk of attempting to be more
faithful to the composer’s apparent intentions. It is
an interpretation which through its fleetness and lightness
of touch evidently wishes to bring to the fore the qualities
of compassion and consolation. These Brahms himself underlined
in his declaration that the word “German” in the
Requiem’s title could easily be substituted by “human”.
The danger is that it could come across as glib, diminishing
the essential gravity of the piece. I do not find that to be
the case: if anything this is a viable alternative to the more
monolithic or even morbid interpretations which have stood the
test of time. I am not saying that it is time for Klemperer,
Karajan, Levine or Previn to move over. I am certainly not endorsing
the Brahms-lite of Gardiner or Norrington, but this recording
is a wholly valid antidote to more portentous versions. No doubt
being freed from the rigid East German tradition encouraged
Masur to be innovative in his approach to speed and rhythm.
Despite it being a speciality, Masur could on occasion during
his tenure with the New York Philharmonic be dull and uninspired
in Brahms. One reviewer even went so far as to describe performances
of the symphonies and Requiem as “soporific”. Not
so here; this has lift and spring - it is even brisk in parts,
such is Masur’s desire to keep things moving. I would
describe the prevailing mood as propulsive and underpinned by
a refreshing element of tension; the only place where I found
proceedings to feel rushed was in the second fugue in the sixth,
penultimate movement.
The fugue in the third movement is a triumph, however. This
was the location for the infamous disaster of the first performance,
when the timpanist, misunderstanding the intent of Brahms’
marking “sempre con tutta la forza”, pounded away
throughout, obliterating the other instruments and causing the
audience to hiss in disapproval. No such problem here: Masur
artfully balances the simplicity of the soloists’ plaintive
melodies against the terrified and terrifying polyphonic outbursts
of the choir, building to a stirring peroration.
Indeed, that harried second fugue apart, everything is judged
very nicely. The sombre opening, shorn of upper strings, is
intense yet we are not allowed to forget that the prevailing
note is one of joy and blessedness. The gentle woodwind, very
well tuned, add to the serenity. The grim Dance of Death - almost
a macabre sarabande - of “Denn alles Fleisch” is
superbly shaped. Masur’s treatment of the dotted notes
in the lilting three-quarter-time passages provides more than
a hint of consolation; likewise the “Wie lieblich sind
Deine Wohnungen” is almost tripping and smiling. Håkan
Hagegård’s vehement baritone is a little dry and
light and the vibrato has marginally loosened since his recording
for Levine in 1983 but it is still a powerful, focused sound
without too much recourse to barking. I continue to prefer the
darker-voiced José van Dam or Samuel Ramey - or even
Hagegård’s younger self. The muted strings of “Ihr
habt nun Traurigkeit” are meltingly beautiful. Sylvia
McNair’s contribution will seem a little earthbound given
that she must inevitably be compared with ethereally-voiced
exponents such as Gundula Janowitz, Margaret Price, Kathleen
Battle, Barbara Hendricks and Barbara Bonney; in such formidable
company she is adequate: unfussy but undistinguished.
The articulation and dynamic shading of the choir are excellent;
they are mostly very homogeneous, the odd stray sibilants notwithstanding.
Their attack on “Aber des Herrn Wort” could be keener
but they make up for that by the clarity of their enunciation
in “und Schmerz und Seufzen” and the fierce momentum
of “Tod, wo ist dein Stachel?”
The problematic Avery Fisher Hall acoustic is a bit dull, dead
and bass-heavy but not damagingly so. Instruments and voices
are very well balanced and there are very few coughs. One press
review of the live performance complained of the “ugly”
sound made by the electronic organ every time it entered - it
plays during about a third of the work - but the recording seems
to have tamed that obtrusiveness and its prolonged tonal pedals
provide the necessary gravitas.
All in all, this is a worthy alternative to the plethora of
recordings available, constituting something a little different.
Ralph Moore
Masterwork Index: Ein
deutsches Requiem
Sylvia McNair (soprano); Håkan Hagegård (baritone) 