For those readers who 
                are of a certain age, and believe that 
                the only good conductor is a dead conductor, 
                and that Karl Böhm, Bruno Walter 
                and Thomas Beecham were great Mozarteans, 
                kindly stop here, as what is contained 
                in the rest of this review is certain 
                to offend you. 
              
 
              
For conductors who 
                came of age in the first couple of decades 
                of the twentieth century, Mozart’s music 
                sat firmly on the border of what was 
                considered standard repertoire. Oh, 
                sure there was the occasional Bach or 
                Vivaldi concerto trotted out for good 
                measure, but the maestros of this generation 
                made the music of the nineteenth century 
                their stock-in-trade, making Schubert 
                the closest thing to "early music" 
                that they ever touched. 
              
 
              
Thus it is with this 
                recording of Mozart’s majestic but unfinished 
                Requiem mass, conducted here by the 
                late Karl Böhm and enhanced by 
                a star-studded roster of soloists, all 
                very fine save one. 
              
 
              
The cover blurb reads 
                as follows: "Here is the historic 
                1971 Vienna concert of Mozart’s most 
                popular final work (I didn’t know he 
                wrote more than one final work to which 
                to compare this one for popularity ...) 
                – a monumental drama of the end of time 
                - conducted by the legendary Karl Böhm, 
                one of the twentieth century’s most 
                outstanding Mozart conductors." 
              
 
              
Right. 
              
 
              
Then we move on to 
                the program notes, which spend a great 
                deal of time extolling the virtues of 
                the maestro, and tell us next to nothing 
                about the music or its origins. I do 
                believe that it is high time that we 
                dispelled the myth that figures such 
                as Böhm were great interpreters 
                of the music of the classical period. 
                Perhaps in 1971, before we had the likes 
                of John Eliot Gardiner, Roger Norrington, 
                even Sir Charles Mackerras, these men 
                might have been the best available Mozart 
                conductors. But much time has passed, 
                much has changed in the realm of performance 
                practice, and a great deal of improvement 
                has been made in the area of choral 
                tone and technique. 
              
 
              
Let us now summarize 
                the things that are wrong with this 
                performance. First, Böhm’s tempi 
                are funereally slow, no pun intended. 
                Second, the chorus of the Vienna Staatsoper 
                knows only one volume, loud, and only 
                one tone color, ugly. There is never 
                an attempt to blend or to create a unified 
                tone. All this choir can do is attempt 
                to out-shout one another, and the result 
                is hideous. Never does a line grow in 
                the form of an arch. Never is there 
                a dynamic that is much below forte. 
                Contrapuntal passages such as the wonderful 
                Kyrie eleison fugue are obliterated 
                in a raucous bellowing contest with 
                florid passages barked instead of sung. 
                And O, the turgid tempi. At those speeds, 
                it would take a fortnight to get the 
                coffin from the church to the grave 
                site. 
              
 
              
The soloists, as aforementioned, 
                are certainly fine, with Gundula Janowitz, 
                Christa Ludwig and Walter Berry producing 
                some splendid, if not unstylistic sounds. 
                As for Peter Schreier, well that poor 
                man has never produced a free and open 
                tone in his life, and he didn’t take 
                the noose from round his neck for this 
                concert either. Being that he was young 
                at the time of this recording, his singing 
                is a bit better than it usually is these 
                days, but it is still a constricted, 
                over-bright and nasal tone. 
                The orchestra is thick and ponderous 
                and they saw and blare away as if they 
                were in the heat of a Wagnerian battle. 
              
In a word, these kinds 
                of performances of music pre-1800 are 
                history, and that’s where they should 
                remain. There is nothing even nostalgic 
                about listening to an hour of such bellicose 
                caterwauling. Consign these things to 
                the dust-bin of history where they belong, 
                and let us enjoy the music as Mozart 
                intended it to be played; with grace, 
                elegance and élan, not like a 
                passing motorcade of earthmoving equipment. 
              
 
              
Bag this one, just 
                about every other performance available 
                is better. 
              
 
               
              
Kevin Sutton