In 1973, the Toronto Symphony's music director Karel Ančerl died unexpectedly. The orchestra was left with the need to cover virtually all the concerts for the next season with guest conductors. Among the guest conductors invited was a young Englishman, and his fiery performance of the rarely-performed Glagolitic Mass by Leoš Janáček created such an impression that he was shortly engaged as the orchestra's new music director, beginning in 1975. Andrew Davis continued in the position for 13 years. Upon his retirement, he was named Conductor Emeritus and continues to hold that title.
Now Sir Andrew Davis, he has continued for virtually every season since to fulfil at least one guest conducting engagement with the Toronto orchestra (sometimes more than one), and his performances have always been audience favourites.
For the fortieth anniversary of his assumption of the music director's position, the orchestra's management offered to let him conduct whatever he wanted for three programmes, and one of his choices was the Verdi Requiem. For me, this concert was a must-attend. As a young man, I was privileged to sing for one season in the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir before my career path took me out of the city. The last major work in that season was the Verdi Requiem, with Davis conducting. I was having the damnedest luck with colds that year, or maybe it was all the same cold, and I lost my voice on the day of the first performance. But I at least had the experience of singing the Verdi under the masterful direction of Andrew Davis at the orchestral rehearsal, and that was memorable enough.
I've heard the work several times since then, but this is one piece I can never hear often enough. And this is curious, because it definitely has one foot firmly planted in the world of Italian opera which was life and breath, food and drink, to the composer. And I've always hated Italian opera of the nineteenth century!
But no matter. As far as I am concerned, Verdi did not put a foot wrong anywhere in his setting of the ancient Latin text of the Mass for the Dead and few composers anywhere have exceeded the sheer fury of this score in its climactic moments.
Back in the day, the Requiem would be performed with an intermission after the Lacrymosa, but Davis wisely chose for this week to set the intermission aside and take the entire score in one continuous flow of 90 minutes. This has become more common practice in recent years, and absolutely enhances the essentially dramatic nature of the work. Notice that I say "dramatic", not "operatic". That's a criticism that has been levelled at the score often enough, but I disagree. Intense, yes. Full of drama, certainly. But alongside these qualities are set examples of pure ecclesiastical polyphony, of prayerful restraint, and of solemnity befitting the funeral mass. It's powerful, in places fiery, but it is no opera.
Having said that, it's important to note that most performances call upon the services of experienced opera singers for the solo quartet. That's because the solo passages of the Requiem are in fact its most operatic moments. Davis ran true to tradition by calling in a quartet of singers from the Chicago Lyric Opera: Amber Wagner, Jamie Barton, Frank Lopardo, and Eric Owens, All except for Owens were making their first appearance with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra.
So, to this performance. This may sound odd, when the Verdi Requiem is most famed for its loud, dramatic moments, but the most impressive parts of tonight's reading were the quiet passages. All four soloists possessed the ability to sing quietly while still clearly communicating the text. This is by no means an ability to be counted on with operatic soloists. Every other time I have heard the work, there have always been one or more of the solo quartet whose dynamic range works in one direction only: forte and louder.
By contrast, these four presented some lovely lyrical moments as they pared their tone right down to the lower limit while still remaining clearly audible. Among the most memorable were Lopardo's opening of the Ingemisco, Wagner and Barton's limpid duet in the Recordare, and the ethereal balance among the four in the heart-rending Lacrymosa. A particular highlight for me was the perfectly poised singing of Barton in the Lux aeterna, her notes floating gently over the tremolando strings.
I was impressed throughout the concert by the care with which all four soloists kept in eye contact with each other and with the conductor. The result was that the ensemble movements had uncommon unity and cohesion, as well as magnificent sounds from all concerned.
Another noteworthy quality of these four soloists was that all were truly steady in their lower register, an area of the voice which Verdi often requires. I've heard some singers develop the shakes and quivers when confronted with those low notes. The highlight (lowlight?) here was Eric Owens in the Mors stupebit -- after three iterations of the word Mors given quietly in parlando, he nailed the concluding stupebit with a rich, round -- but still quiet -- deep bass.
Of course, if the soprano does her work well then everyone nearly forgets the other soloists by the time the concluding Libera me is over. Wagner proved here that she had power and to spare, her voice rising clearly above the mass of the choir and orchestra while she still had four or five notes to go before reaching the searing climax.
This singing by the soloists was absolutely matched by the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir, which will come as no surprise to anyone familiar with that large body of skilled singers. The opening Requiem aeternam came across as a mere murmur, but still crisp and clear. The succeeding unaccompanied Te decet hymnus was rock-solid on pitch. The precision and power of the Dies irae and Tuba mirum (the latter with extra trumpets placed high on either side of the hall) were exemplary. The Lacrymosa mourned and the Sanctus danced. The final choral repeat of Libera me at the end was brought down to a very low level of volume but the words still registered clearly.
Sir Andrew Davis did a first-rate job of leading this performance with his customary clear but understated conducting style. This was a straightforward reading, with only a few accelerando and ritardando passages -- but those were carefully chosen for maximum effect. The various tempo shifts in the concluding Libera me were especially well managed. Davis has had many years of experience in leading this score, and it definitely showed.
All in all, a memorable traversal of Verdi's largest sacred work.
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