Apocalyptic nightmares realised (Berlioz: Requiem; Te Deum)

Member Name: berlioz II

Product:	Berlioz: Requiem; Te Deum
Date:	18/09/06 (857 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: The Requiem to end all Requiems, choral music of sublime richness

Disadvantages: In unsensitive hands can become tedious, staging problems limit good recordings

ON A HEAVENLY PATH

The figure of Hector Berlioz is still a somewhat controversial name in the world of classical music. On the one part he, more than anybody else, took the concepts of orchestration, deeply emotional and pictorial style of composing and imaginative way of handling of old and new styles forward in the early to mid 19th Century, basically standing as the first real romantic who was an early model for Liszt, Wagner and even Tchaikovsky. On the other hand, though, his constant use of extra musical programmes to frame his compositions have been constantly questioned and his real talent as a composer has been subjected to dubious claims of him not being able to write music for the sake of music without having to lean on pre-existing crotches by way of a programme or being nothing more than an extravagant showman. Of course, to really understand Berlioz’s usage of programme music is to understand his general desire to create a link between literature and music and to provide a kind of an emotional point of reference to engage human emotionalism when people had something to relate to without going off to finding inaccurate programmes themselves (Beethoven anyone?).

The fact of the matter is that Berlioz was a revolutionary who could not give a damn about the conventionalities of the day and deeply resented the banal and superficial Parisians who raved about the latest popular opera by Rossini, while neglecting truly brilliant works by people like Beethoven, and to a large degree himself as well. Therefore it is not surprising Berlioz did not find much favour in his residential Paris that he loved and loathed at the same time, often finding straight-out conspiracies from within the main musical establishment of the city and the people belonging in the inner circle attempting to sabotash his path to success. Being an infintely imaginative man, his music certainly was something not heard before and many were rightfully bewildered by what this quirky Frenchman was doing. In his quest to supplement and expand the capabilities of what an orchestra could achieve in terms of colour and emotional drive, he did end up creating some truly unorthodox works that are each unique in their way of creating some sounds never before even thought of.

This expansion of the orchestra was then also subject in creating works that fully utilized different textures and colours that at times reached to such a huge scale that Berlioz, upon the singling out of only a couple of examples, gained a reputation of being a loud composer who was fond of using 500 member choruses and orchestras that contained everything from bells to cannons (exaggerations in most cases). One of the benchmarks for the legendary Berlioz theatrics has for the logest time been his grand liturgical memorial mass that is the “Grande Messe des Morts” (or Grand Mass for the Dead), more generally known as the Requiem. Requiems have been written by most every composer and the sheer romantic profundity that the setting contains was particularly appealing to the 19th Century Romantics to express liturgically dramatic emotions that almost no other text properly provided. Berlioz’s setting rose out from a commission by France’s Minister of the Interior, Count Adrien de Gasparin, for a grand mass for the memorial of the 1830 Revolution. However there was much opposition, particularly from the side of Conservatory head Cherubini, whose Requiem of 1817 was still fairly new and it was generally thought that a new mass was unnecessary. However, after the death of General Damrémont in Algeria in 1837, an excuse was found for putting the commission for the new work in motion.

At the time Berlioz was deeply involved with the writing of his grand opera Benvenuto Cellini and was much enjoying the success his Symphonie fantastique and Harold en Italie had generated with the public. Therefore he wholeheartedly set off into the composing process of something this grandiose, which he felt would perfectly seal his stature as one of the leading composers of the time. He started work in April 1837 and worked at white heat until June of the same year, so the mass was ready for performance by the end of the year, the premiere taking place on December 5th, 1837 at the church of Les Invalides under Francois-Antoine Habeneck to a great success. The work itself is written with tremendous scale, being well suited for its purpose of a grand public event of mourning, decidedly far from being suitable for an intimate memorial service like Mozart’s Requiem or the later chamber-like setting of Berlioz’s countryman Gabriel Fauré. It is a work that is tremendously difficult to stage due to its scale and the sheer forces it requires are staggering. But despite a couple of notable scenes where all hell breaks loose, the Requiem is much more contemplative than it is often given credit for. Roughly 50 minutes of its 90-minute running time is contemplatory rather than garishly loud, more than proving that Berlioz’s reputation for overbearing theatrics is not as founded as people usually think. As a whole, though, this work is quite far from being a religiously pious experience and rather is more concerned with the dramatic implications of the text than its devotional ones.


ANALYSIS on movement by movement basis

- I. Requiem et Kyrie -

The work begins calmly, with an ascending G minor scale on unison violins and violas, which is soon followed by a more extraneous strain in C sharp, essentially presenting us with the movement’s main thematic building blocks, after which the chorus enters with its solemn entreaty of “grant them eternal rest.” The movement continues essentially in the same kind of mournfully contemplative and entreating way, with livelier episodes at times momentarily interrupting the solemnity of the mourning crowds, the orchestra all the while gently accompanying the voices. In the middle an anxious lament is heard suggestive of agony and despair, but it is soon relieved by more hopeful material in the form of a prayer to God. As is the French practice, the Kyrie is combined with the “Requiem aeternam” section and is much more horrified in its repeated whispers of “Kyrie eleison” on the keynote of G, creating an uneasy plea for mercy.


- II. Dies irae -

The second movement opens similarly to the first, with a variation of the opening scale in A minor on cellos and basses to which the female voices join with the first “Dies irae” strain, followed by the rest of the voices. The beginning of this scene is one of desolation, completely different from the usual fire and brimstone Dies iraes of many others depicting the “Day of Wrath”. The feeling is of utter awe-inspired fright to which short bursts of more tempestuous stringwhirls inject a sense of a rising tempest. The tension continues to rise and rise, the voices continuously getting more agitated and frightened. The tension is then finally released as a rapid E flat major scale rises to the heavens and a mighty brass fanfare is heard, heralding the beginning of the “Tuba mirum”. This fanfare (if you can really call it as such) is followed by a second, then a third, and then a fourth, sounding from the four corners of the world (the church), playing in counterpoint, imitation and response to each other like an apocalyptic cavalry ready to charge forth. At the climax of this mighty sound of trombones, trumpets, tubas etc. eight pairs of timpani strike out a thunderous wall of rumbling thunder unparalleled in the annals of music, literally shaking the concert hall (or room if you have a good recording and systems). This is the tour de force moment of apocalypse that has become so infamous and it indeed is an awe-inspiring moment. Each entrance of the brass groups is carefully coordinated and therefore (if we are to believe Berlioz) it is totally unfathomable that the conductor Habeneck at this precise moment put down his baton and took out a box of snuff. It was then left to Berlioz to swoosh onto the stage, grab the baton and lead the charge himself to great success. There is a more sinister moment in the middle with deep male voices suggesting a Mephistophelian thought before the Tuba mirum is reprised with even greater destructive power. The coda then reverts back to a calm and relieved moment of angelic beauty, seemingly dying away into nothingness.

But despite how wonderfully inventive the Tuba mirum passage is, the idea is not new. Berlioz already composed a similar entry in the “Resurrexit” movement of his early 1824 Messe solennelle, though naturally with much lesser forces. However it is a perfect example of how Berlioz most certainly didn’t want to throw good material away if it could be used again with more effect than before,


- III. Quid sum miser -

After this most destructive moment, the brief “Quid sum miser” is like a coda to the preceding movement in opening with an andante variation of the Dies irae melody, with the chorus gently performing a touching lament with sighing English horns and intermingling with the main melody of the work in a fragmentary fashion.


- IV. Rex tremendae -

The “Rex tremendae” brings us back to more glorious feelings as the glory of God is proclaimed with suitable oomph and majesty (though it opens with woodwinds, not the usual brass). The E major brightness and shouts of “Rex tremendae majestatis” are however offset somewhat by the pleas for mercy. The tempo gets faster, to be driven straight into more anxious cries for Jesus in “Confutatis maledictis”, quickly turning to piano appeals, which in their turn then return to the forte “Rex tremendae” chords, finally to resolve in pianississimo retards of “Salva me, fons pietatis” in a distinct spirit of faith.


- V. Quaerens me -

The “Quaerens me” again takes hold of the more calm and beautiful strains with an a cappella serenity (no accompaniment if you don’t know), beginning with a three-part choral harmony that changes to six parts in the middle section. The beginning three-part choral motive is the reprised with slight variations as the tenor and bass’ eighth-notes work as counterpoint, thus linking the old, archaic choral writing with Berlioz’s Romantic “poetic ideal.”


- VI. Lacrymosa -

The “Lacrymosa” (my personal favourite) begins with a strident and writhing rhythm that reprises some of the apocalyptic soundworld of the “Tuba mirum” in it’s flowing 9/8 movement. This is an incredinbly complex structure where a one-measure motif is agonisingly pushing us forward with its non-stop repetitions of the one and same idea. This is offset by the more lyrical and mournful C major penance of man on “the day of tears,” but the main idea returns, now only varying the brass chords between the different brass instruments in different pitches. After another reprise of the C major interlude the movement moves to a tremendous fortissimo climax from where it modulates to its powerful A major conclusion. This movement is the last where large forces are used and the final four movements are decidedly more set towards a path leading away from the sorrows of earthly life.


- VII. Offertorium -

The “Offertorium” was one of the movements that much intrigued people of the time (most notably Robert Schumann, by far not a big fan of Berlioz’s). It is based entirely on the incessant repetition of the three notes of A-B flat-A by the chorus while the orchestra is constantly doing some fugal variations and figurations underneath and amid the choral chants. In fact it is quite remarkable how the orchestra and chorus, the two principal parts, are moving in a totally different direction from one another. The orchestra does not support the chorus in any way, being completely obsessed with its own ideas while the chorus continues its monotonous repetition of its three notes. Only in the coda does the choral and orchestral parts unite again for an angelical close, moving away from the darkness of D minor to the more lighter D major. This is by far one of Berlioz’s most unusual achievements and shows the great inspiration and talent the man had.


- VIII. Hostias -

The brief and dramatic “Hostias” begins a cappella (sounding very much like a Russian Orthodox choral chant) to which flutes and eight, very deeply played trombones play some disconnected and offsetting chords as accompaniment, creating a vacuum of insubstantial fear and trepidation. Despite there being very little movement, with an almost static air of curiosity, these little gestures add an unbelievable amount of tension to the movement and a sense of the otherworldly.


- IX. Sanctus -

The crowd favourite “Sanctus” follows next, again quoting the flute/trombone accompaniment of the “Hostias” before a tenor solo begins his song of the “holy God of Hosts.” The accompaniment is one of flittering and insubstantial wondering as the heavenly tenor solo sings in true French arioso style (placed off-stage) the praises to God while angelic female voices give affirmations, soon to be joined by male voices in a brilliant fugue on “Hosanna”. This is followed by the reprise of the D flat major “Sanctus” that only intensifies the luminosity of the main melodic idea, gently accompanied by large drums and three, gently touched cymbals (again as in Russian Orthodox mass mirroring the priests’ incents). The F minor “Hosanna” fugue is again reprised, now accompanied by full orchestra, finally modulating to the main key of D flat major for a magnificent conclusion.


- X. Agnus Dei

The final movement, more or less, is a reprise of the opening “Requiem aeternam,” preceded by an introduction where woodwinds play unhinged triads to which the violas answer, just as in “Hostias”. We hear “Te decet hymnus” from the “Kyrie” slightly varied, the ending of “Rex tremendae” is reprised similarly varied, and the chromatic male voices from the “Hostias” also make an appearance. The coda, accompanied by lightly beating timpani at the repeated words of “Amen”, turn from G minor of the outset into G major, bringing a perfect contrast and unity between the two. The sounds of a muted funeral march resolves into peace, serenity and eternal rest as woodwinds and strings give gentle support.



RECOMMENDED RECORDINGS

Due to the immense size of the Requiem, there are not that many recordings in existence, still sitting under the 100 recordings bracket. If anything, this is a very difficult work to stage and record, therefore stellar performances are very hard to come by even within the spheres of the available recordings. Not only is the scale standing in the way of actually staging it, there is also the considerations of microphone placement, balance and recording enviroment. Often the danger is that either the choral or orchestral forces end up drowning one or the other, or the sound is so muted or distant that total satisfaction is more of a rarity than rule. The following are however prime recommendations (though most still have problems of their own).

For the longest time, Sir Colin Davis’ recording with the London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus (with Ronald Dowd as tenor soloist) has been sitting on top of the pile of the classic recordings of this work. It has now been reissued as part of Philips’ ”50” series coupled with the equally massive Te Deum. From an interpretative point few have gotten as close to really evoking the end of the world in a similar way that Davis has and as far as the performance is concerned, he is still the king of the hill. The big letdown is the recorded quality of 1969 that by today’s standards is pretty boxy and does little justice to the more climactic moments in the score. But if pure musicianship interests you rather than sonically exciting spectacle, then this performance is still the best to have (Philips 464 689-2)

Coming close behind is Sir Thomas Beecham’s 1959 live recording with the Royal Philharmonic, with Richard Lewis as soloist. The recording was released officially in 1999 as part of the BBC Legends and presents a truly wonderful and totally committed performance with even the sound quality being pretty good (ignoring some crowd movement in between movements). Highly recommended. (BBC Legends, BBCL 4011-2)

For those wanting sheer spectacle, the late Robert Shaw’s Atlanta Symphony recording in the 1980s has long been heralded by audiophiles to be an incredible delight, particularly in the Tuba mirum where the timpani particularly sound incredibly fierce. As a performance it doesn’t fare quite as well, though, being way too cultured and sophisticated that the emotion pretty much goes along with it. Also the sound is pretty dry, but nevertheless it is held in reverence by many still. (Telarc CD 80109)

For a more modern equivalent for the Shaw version comes the recording of Robert Spano with the same orchestra and chorus, with Frank Lopardo as soloist. This recording boasts better sound quality and is also available as an SACD if you have a surround system, but there is a lot of mixed feeling as regards this performance. Audiophiles are pretty delighted, particularly when the antiphonal brass choirs blasts you from every side of the room in splendid digital sound (and no, unfortunately I don’t have a surround system so I have to rely on the reports of others). However, as was the case with the Shaw performance, there is a curious lack of involvement with the work and despite great sound, as a performance it doesn’t hold up quite as well. But on the whole this is still a pretty fine recording to have and boast with, with the added incentive that the work has been fitted on a single CD. (Telarc SACD 60627)

But if you want a bit of both (fine performance with SACD technology) then Charles Munch’s remastered RCA recording from 1959 with the Boston Symphony Orchestra and New England Conservatory Chorus is a must have. Despite being an early stereo recording, the performance is top notch with the sound cleaned to almost perfection (there’s still some minor distortion in the great climaxes). Intense, beautiful, absolutely riveting, and now available as an SACD too, this is a top pier recommendation of great worth. And the added bonus that the antiphonal brass choirs have really been recorded like they are heard with mikes of their own for a surround effect. (RCA 82876-66373-2)

On the super-budget front, Naxos has again provided a very good alternative, though it must be said that the balancing could be a whole lot better. The chorus and orchestra sound distant and despite the brass coming off admirably well in the ”Tuba mirum” and ”Lacrymosa”, the chorus often sounds muddled and almost sinks under the timpani thunder in the ”Tuba mirum.” Still there is a nice warmness that almost makes you forget its deficiencies (like in the ”Hostias” where the cathedral like resonance really creates an added sense of the supernatural). Performed by total unknowns, Michael Schade brings a nice warmth to his tenor solo and the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir and Elora Festival Orchestra under Noel Edison is purposeful and well paced. (Naxos 8.554494-95)


AS A FINAL REST

Berlioz’s Grande Messe des Morts is definitely one of the most remarkable works ever composed and its fame for being overly theatrical is certainly not merited in the grander scheme of things (particularly when you compare it to Verdi’s Messa di Requiem which really is theatrical). The work was a great success upon its premiere, but Berlioz was not really able to capitalize with it since to mount a performance of the work was not really possible outside of some special event and therefore he had to resort to just playing bits and pieces of it in his concerts (the “Sanctus” often figuring quite prominently in his programs). Despite its sometimes huge rolls of sound, the inherent solemnity and dramatic beauty are really the things that will stay in your mind the best as the work is over. It is one of the most perfect musical compositions ever written in my opinion and such is the remarkable spiritual heart the work carries that it is hard to believe Berlioz wasn’t even remotely religious. This is definitely one of those works that I just have to experience in a concert situation when ever such an opportunity presents itself. Choral music rarely gets quite this elevated and thrilling.


Orchestration:
4 flutes, 2 oboes, 2 English horns, 4 clarinets in C, A, and B flat, 8 bassoons, 12 horns in C, D, E flat, E, F, G, A alto and B flat bass, 4 brass choirs (North: 4 cornets in A, B flat, 4 trombones and 2 tubas; East: 4 trumpets in D, E flat, E and F, 4 trombones; West: 4 trumpets in D and E flat, 4 trombones; South: 4 trumpets in C and B flat, 4 trombones and 4 tubas), 16 timpani (10 timpanists), 2 bass drums, 4 tam-tams, 10 pairs of cymbals, 25 first violins, 25 second violins, 20 violas, 20 cellos and 18 double basses.

Choral forces:
80 sopranos, 60 tenors and 70 basses + a tenor soloist.

There is an extra note from Berlioz: “In relation to the number of singers and strings, these numbers are only relative and if possible, should the location permit it, double or triple all the voice parts, and augment the instrumental count as well in the same proportion.”(!)


"If I had to destroy all of my work save for one, then I would plead my case for the Requiem." - Hector Berlioz


© berlioz, 2006

Summary: Berlioz's massive vision of the Apocalypse truly evokes the end of times.