On Sunday afternoon, May 4, the Koerner Hall at the Royal Conservatory of Music in Toronto resounded with the unfamiliar strains of Dvořák's magnificent Requiem, Op.89, receiving its first Toronto performance in over 40 years! As the capacity audience realized, such neglect is nothing less than scandalous!
This was my first-ever concert at Koerner Hall, and I found that everything said about this hall's magnificent acoustics is absolutely true. The shape, size, and proportions are ideal for this kind of performance. The lavish use of wood creates a totally realistic sound picture, clear as a bell with a reasonable degree of reverberation, neither over nor under the ideal length. In a hall like this, performers certainly must be on their mettle as their smallest error will be obvious to those who are in the know.
I'm not bragging when I say that this category of "those who are in the know" includes me. I have never heard the Requiem live before, but it has long been a favourite of mine from recordings (as I discussed in my other blog, Off the Beaten Staff, yesterday: A Beautiful Choral Rarity) and every note is a familiar friend.
I definitely must state that this performance had nothing to fear from any comparison with any other that I might hear in future. The precision of the entire reading, both instrumental and vocal, was to me truly remarkable. Given that the work is such a rare bird, a small number of audible mistakes might reasonably be expected but there were none that I could detect. Very impressive indeed on that technical level.
Artistically, conductor Robert Cooper had trained the two large choral bodies, the Orpheus Choir of Toronto and Chorus Niagara from St. Catharines, so that they sang the music with both precision and passion. The range of tone from the full fortissimo cries right down to the lightest, most delicate pianissimo, all registered clearly and words were completely audible at all times. That's important, by the way, when the composer keeps repeating text, and sometimes cuts up and rearranges the words to suit his musical ideas!
The only difficulties I encountered, and they were minor ones, had to do with the orchestra and the soloists. First, the orchestra. The Talisker Players are a small body, but play with remarkable skill and finesse. For this piece, I think the instrumental group was just too small. Dvořák treated his orchestra, not as an accompaniment, but as an equal partner (sometimes the leading partner) with distinct musical materials of their own that the singers do not share. To cope with the rest of the orchestra (such as the essential four horns), a revealing acoustic environment and a 180-strong chorus, the string sections really needed to be bigger. In several loud passages, most notably the opening of the Dies Irae, the violins were frantically playing their hearts out, but were completely inaudible under the tide of brass, winds, organ, and choir! Speaking of the four horns, each of these players get saddled with very exposed solo passages at one time or another, and all acquitted themselves with smooth, secure playing. Also noteworthy was the sizable, and equally exposed, contribution of the bass clarinet, an instrument that is responsible for much of the darker colouring of this entire score.
The soloists also suffered from balance problems to begin with. Perhaps they were still grasping for the "feel" of the hall with an audience, because at first there was a lot of heavy-duty loud singing going on in passages where it wasn't needed. The tenor in particular developed an intrusive vibrato under this kind of pressure. Later on, they settled well into their parts, and balanced each other perfectly in the many passages where Dvořák called for 2, 3, or all 4 to sing as an ensemble. Indeed, such passages as the quartet line in the middle of the Pie Jesu were positively magical.
The other balance issue may have been caused by having the soloists sit at the front of the choir, but behind the orchestra. The final Lux aeterna is a resplendent climax in which the soprano and tenor should be heard ringing out over the choral parts on the high A flat. Plainly they were giving it their all, but (as with the violins in the Dies Irae) they were sadly inaudible.
Soprano Johane Ansell produced lovely tone in her quieter passages, and made the most of ringing high notes in many parts of the work. Mezzo-soprano Lauren Segal had the firmest voice of the quartet, landing with unerring precision on every note, no matter how high or how big of a leap she had to make to get there. With that she also contributed a smooth, dark tone in her many melodic passages. Tenor Adam Luther has an impressive stentorian voice which came across well in big passages (once he tamed the vibrato I mentioned earlier) but could have been pulled back more in some of the quieter parts -- and was later on, especially in the Pie Jesu quartet. Bass-baritone Giles Tomkins was equally secure in the high registers and in the deepest bass notes of the score.
Conductor Robert Cooper had a firm grasp of the many complexities of the work, from start to finish, and kept a secure hand leading the proceedings at all times. His choices of tempo were all beautifully judged, the fiendish Dies Irae in particular not going so fast as to turn the music into a rushing blur of noise. Only once, I felt, did he put a foot wrong, and that was in his odd decision to suddenly accelerate the tempo as he entered upon the climactic Lux aeterna passage. I'd have to check my copy of the score, but I'm pretty sure that no such tempo change is marked there as all of the four (or five?) recordings I have heard maintain a steady speed right through the movement and into that glorious crescendo.
Those are nitpicking little details. The overall emotional impact of this concert was undeniable. As the choir reached their first great outburst to the words Et lux perpetua luceat eis in the opening Introit, as the four soloists sang their terror-stricken Amen at the end of the Lacrymosa, as the soprano launched into that final glorious ascent to the heights -- each time I found myself shivering with anticipation and then even more with the realization that the performance of this masterwork was indeed living up to my lofty expectations.
Was it worth waiting 40 years for this? Oh, yes. Without question. And with any luck, it won't be another 40 years before Toronto can hear this splendid oratorio again.
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