The Verdi Messa da Requiem (1874) is such a dramatic masterpiece, hewn from massive blocks of sound, that one sometimes forgets the delicacy and beauty that underpin its majestic terrain.
Opera Australia presented a powerful performance of the Mass in the enormous SOH Concert Hall, under maestro Renato Palumbo. His combined forces piled on the strength but never forgot to highlight the work’s sheer beauty.
The fire and brimstone of this work relies heavily on the heft and skill of the choir. The OA choir were on fire, responsive to the wide-ranging dynamics that Verdi demands – from the barely whispered intoning of the Requiem aeternam (sotto voce) to the various crashing waves of the Dies irae, dies illa, with its grand “allegro agitato” and almost sulphured sounds. Their well sprung Sanctus was full of joyous praise, bounding on the orchestral stops that bring this fugal hymn to its thumping conclusion. In the glorious concluding Libera me, they created drama within drama responding to the soprano’s heartfelt pleas for mercy, crowning her wide-ranging exaltation with finely gradated singing – whether shaking the heavens or pleading in whispered threads of sound.
The Libera me was the highlight of the performance. The Italian soprano Serena Farnocchia has a thrilling voice, well bound, with a powerful and glinting top and richness in the lower ranges. She is steeped in Verdi singing, from Leonora in Trovatore to Alice in Falstaff. She knows how to instantiate then swell those arcing rainbow sounds that Verdi gives to his sopranos. Her pitching of the most exquisite moment in the Requiem (and its most fraught) – the final “Requiem Aeterna” – was like a powerfully sprung prayer vaulting into the heavens, almost breaking on the poetry of its pianissimo (Verdi askes for pppp on a fermata!)
In this final movement, soprano and choir bought to vivid light the fear and trembling (Tremens factus sum ego et timeo) as well as the supplication of the soft breathed Libera me ("Deliver me"). They brought forth both chill and benediction, ensuring this monumental work ends on a note of tender ambiguity, much as Britten was to do in his War Requiem of 1963.
Within the larger, segmented Dies Irae, the “Ingemisco” was sturdily pitched and purely sung by Diego Torre, and if his intercessions missed some of the tender purity that lurks in this section’s phrases (dolce and dolcissimo) it was shining in its glory. He was granite strength throughout the night, giving out that true Italian slancio with unstinting ease.
The “Mors stupebit”, pitched dangerously low by the composer, was magnificently handled by the bass soloist, Roberto Scandiuzzi. His words were soft and low and perfectly intoned (“now death and nature shall be stunned when the dead rise” - and we were). His voice enacts drama. It is a rich and vibrant instrument.
The mezzo soprano, Milijana Nikolic, has a fulsome top that shot out darkly rich in the “Liber scriptus”, but her middle and lower registers can tend to become diaphanous, muddying her words. So the rich column of sound was there, deeply resonant, but the force of meaning was not always in focus, which led to the hint of a slight buzzing sound. This ellipsis delimited the deepest pleasures of the chant like melody of the Agnus Dei.
The rocking lullaby qualities of the “Recordare” were nicely intoned by soprano and mezzo. Their voices matching textually, though not always blending – the silver (cantabile) resting in the velvet (espressivo), so to speak.
All the soloists combined to deliver a passionate “Salva me, fons pietatis” increasing the tension at each return of the begging prayer for pity. Likewise, the rising stepped phrasing of the “Quam olim Abrahae” in the Offertorio was rock solid, built brick by brick by soloists and choir into fugal splendour, which seemed to make the adagio release of the “Hostias” seem more intensely blissful.
The Lux aeternam with mezzo, bass and tenor was supported by wondrous orchestration and playing as the eternal light from the strings stole up to heaven.
Throughout the evening, the orchestra responded with sustained colour and energy. The great trumpet volley of the “Tuba Mirum spargens sonum” was razor sharp and pulsating with risk, reminding us how such simple beauty and power grew out of the experiences of Don Carlos (1866) and Aida (1871). Maestro Palumbo took great care in placing and pacing the mosaic of orchestral sound. We had great power but with absolute clarity.
The vivid sense of life that flows through this work is dazzling in its Mediterranean energy. That the anti cleric and agnostic, Verdi, responded so imaginatively to this religious Latin is testament to his deep understanding and respect for Italian liturgical music and his protean ability to dramatize the human predicament and draw us into its despair and exaltation. Like Britten, Verdi wrote for the living. This full-blooded performance shone a light on the Christian tradition of redemption and gave us a fresco as vivid as the Michelangelo Sistine Chapel. This was startling music making.
Opera Australia – Concert Hall Sydney, Sydney Opera House – August 10, 2017
Gar Jones
Opera Australia presented a powerful performance of the Mass in the enormous SOH Concert Hall, under maestro Renato Palumbo. His combined forces piled on the strength but never forgot to highlight the work’s sheer beauty.
The fire and brimstone of this work relies heavily on the heft and skill of the choir. The OA choir were on fire, responsive to the wide-ranging dynamics that Verdi demands – from the barely whispered intoning of the Requiem aeternam (sotto voce) to the various crashing waves of the Dies irae, dies illa, with its grand “allegro agitato” and almost sulphured sounds. Their well sprung Sanctus was full of joyous praise, bounding on the orchestral stops that bring this fugal hymn to its thumping conclusion. In the glorious concluding Libera me, they created drama within drama responding to the soprano’s heartfelt pleas for mercy, crowning her wide-ranging exaltation with finely gradated singing – whether shaking the heavens or pleading in whispered threads of sound.
The Libera me was the highlight of the performance. The Italian soprano Serena Farnocchia has a thrilling voice, well bound, with a powerful and glinting top and richness in the lower ranges. She is steeped in Verdi singing, from Leonora in Trovatore to Alice in Falstaff. She knows how to instantiate then swell those arcing rainbow sounds that Verdi gives to his sopranos. Her pitching of the most exquisite moment in the Requiem (and its most fraught) – the final “Requiem Aeterna” – was like a powerfully sprung prayer vaulting into the heavens, almost breaking on the poetry of its pianissimo (Verdi askes for pppp on a fermata!)
In this final movement, soprano and choir bought to vivid light the fear and trembling (Tremens factus sum ego et timeo) as well as the supplication of the soft breathed Libera me ("Deliver me"). They brought forth both chill and benediction, ensuring this monumental work ends on a note of tender ambiguity, much as Britten was to do in his War Requiem of 1963.
Within the larger, segmented Dies Irae, the “Ingemisco” was sturdily pitched and purely sung by Diego Torre, and if his intercessions missed some of the tender purity that lurks in this section’s phrases (dolce and dolcissimo) it was shining in its glory. He was granite strength throughout the night, giving out that true Italian slancio with unstinting ease.
The “Mors stupebit”, pitched dangerously low by the composer, was magnificently handled by the bass soloist, Roberto Scandiuzzi. His words were soft and low and perfectly intoned (“now death and nature shall be stunned when the dead rise” - and we were). His voice enacts drama. It is a rich and vibrant instrument.
The mezzo soprano, Milijana Nikolic, has a fulsome top that shot out darkly rich in the “Liber scriptus”, but her middle and lower registers can tend to become diaphanous, muddying her words. So the rich column of sound was there, deeply resonant, but the force of meaning was not always in focus, which led to the hint of a slight buzzing sound. This ellipsis delimited the deepest pleasures of the chant like melody of the Agnus Dei.
The rocking lullaby qualities of the “Recordare” were nicely intoned by soprano and mezzo. Their voices matching textually, though not always blending – the silver (cantabile) resting in the velvet (espressivo), so to speak.
All the soloists combined to deliver a passionate “Salva me, fons pietatis” increasing the tension at each return of the begging prayer for pity. Likewise, the rising stepped phrasing of the “Quam olim Abrahae” in the Offertorio was rock solid, built brick by brick by soloists and choir into fugal splendour, which seemed to make the adagio release of the “Hostias” seem more intensely blissful.
The Lux aeternam with mezzo, bass and tenor was supported by wondrous orchestration and playing as the eternal light from the strings stole up to heaven.
Throughout the evening, the orchestra responded with sustained colour and energy. The great trumpet volley of the “Tuba Mirum spargens sonum” was razor sharp and pulsating with risk, reminding us how such simple beauty and power grew out of the experiences of Don Carlos (1866) and Aida (1871). Maestro Palumbo took great care in placing and pacing the mosaic of orchestral sound. We had great power but with absolute clarity.
The vivid sense of life that flows through this work is dazzling in its Mediterranean energy. That the anti cleric and agnostic, Verdi, responded so imaginatively to this religious Latin is testament to his deep understanding and respect for Italian liturgical music and his protean ability to dramatize the human predicament and draw us into its despair and exaltation. Like Britten, Verdi wrote for the living. This full-blooded performance shone a light on the Christian tradition of redemption and gave us a fresco as vivid as the Michelangelo Sistine Chapel. This was startling music making.
Opera Australia – Concert Hall Sydney, Sydney Opera House – August 10, 2017
Gar Jones