Sunday 1 October 2017

Toronto Symphony 2017-18 # 2: Life After Death

This week's concerts at Roy Thomson Hall have been highlighted by one of the few great masterpieces for choir and orchestra from the nineteenth century which has secured a continuing place in the repertoire right to the present day: Ein Deutsches Requiem, Op. 45 ("A German Requiem") by Johannes Brahms.

Ein Deutsches Requiem has been a favourite of mine ever since I was young.  In fact, a recording of it was one of the very first records I ever bought for myself, with a Christmas cheque from my aunt in Regina providing the means.  Even now, I have four recordings in my collection and hardly a month goes by that I don't pull out one of them for a listen.  I also had the privilege of singing it under Andrew Davis during my one season in the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir, in the fall of 1977.

This was the work whose success in 1858 definitively placed Brahms on the centre stage of the musical world that he was destined to occupy for four more decades.

The composer's use of the word "Requiem" tips us off right away that this is a work related to death and loss.  But the word is also misleading since this is in no sense an intercession for the soul of the deceased, such as we find in the Latin Requiem Mass of the Roman Catholic Church.  Brahms, through his choice of German texts from the Lutheran Bible, instead highlighted his concern for the living who remain behind.  It was aptly said by Brahms himself that he wished he could remove the word "German" and substitute "Human."

Therein lies the key clue.  Brahms was most definitely not a religious man, being perhaps best described by the words "agnostic" and "humanist."  And when we turn to his carefully selected texts, we find no liturgical purpose or intent, but a litany of consolation and comfort.  There's no doubt that the completed work represents a heartfelt response by the composer to the pain of loss, and to the undoubted power and beauty of the language.

Those characteristics clearly informed Saturday night's performance.  Under Maestro Peter Oundjian's direction, the music grew with undoubted power and beauty, but also with a classical poise and restraint that are entirely appropriate with Brahms.  Come to think of it, that statement could also describe last week's equally powerful and poised reading of the same composer's D minor piano concerto (read about that concert here: In Honour of Glenn).

Oundjian's reading was marked by careful and neatly judged shifts of tempo between the different sections of movements.  His interpretation was also notable for the careful balancing of the different parts of the orchestra.  In the first movement, the wind lines emerged with a delicacy and beauty that were admirable.  In the second movement's stark processional, the trombones led the ascent to the climax without in any way overpowering their colleagues.  The long pedal point under the fugue of the third movement was simply present, audible, but not in any way loud until the final few bars.  And so on. 

Another key point is the use of the organ.  The score is simply marked "organ ad libitum" -- in other words, use your own judgement as to when and how much to use the organ!  This is actually a fairly common indication in choral scores of the period, since these were often performed in churches. 

Many years ago, then-Music Director Gunther Herbig led a performance of Ein Deutsches Requiem in which the organ was very much present and noticeable at many points in the score.  Oundjian's approach was different, and very much in keeping with his overall sense of the work.  The organ was certainly in use, but in its quieter registers, so that as often as not it provided a useful support or underpinning without drawing attention to itself.  Only in a couple of climactic passages -- notably the endings of the third and sixth movements -- did the rich bass pedal tones truly become audible.

The same quality of restraint and poise informed all of the singing as well.  The Toronto Mendelssohn Choir, in fine fettle as always, sang clearly and musically but without much resort to the two extreme ends of the dynamic range.  Thus, when the choir did go very quiet or very loud the extra intensity was easily felt.

So, too, with the two soloists.  Baritone Russell Braun gave a near-ideal performance of the baritone solos in the third and sixth movements.  His singing had more the feel of a lieder performance than of a concert.  This more inward style of singing was exactly in tune with the sensibility of the entire performance.

Erin Wall gave a lovely performance of the soprano solo in the fifth movement.  Ideally, though, this should be sung by a lighter-weight soprano.  Wall's voice is undoubtedly pure and beautiful, but the high-arched vocal lines call for a gently soaring effect.  When singing those high passages, Wall was apt to become stentorian in contrast to the work of all her colleagues.

Really, though, every moment of this performance was touched with a sense that the music had been carefully and deeply thought through.  It made for an uncommonly rewarding concert that, like all the best live performances, simply didn't last long enough.

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