Requiem (for hope?)
Thursday, November 4th, 2004 10:41 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tamaranthLast night ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladymoonray, her mum (WINOLJ) and I went to the Royal Albert Hall to hear Verdi's Requiem. (There were a lot of Americans in the seats around us. How did they know, when they booked?) London Philharmonic Orchestra (Brian Wright), Goldsmiths' Choral Union, Brighton Festival Chorus: soloists Claire Rutter (sop), Jean Rigby (mezzo), Wynne Evans (tenor), Matthew Rose (bass).
It's an amazing work, dramatic and emotional while avoiding sentimentality. I have now seen it performed live three times. First, the ENO's dramatisation, which I recall as starkly and powerfully moving (it left me in helpless tears) though it was widely criticised. Then a concert performance at the Italian Church in Clerkenwell, in which a friend of mine was playing double-bass. Free, packed; I was distracted by the overwhelming decor of the place, all coloured marble and gilding and statuary.
And last night -- again, with a friend performing: Maggy's been singing with Goldsmiths' Choral Union for nearly a decade (though recently, like everyone in the choir, had to reaudition, and even have lessons ... but her reward was to be part of Simon Rattle's recording of Mahler's Symphony of a Thousand). We had excellent seats, 5 rows back in the arena, close enough to see the tenor's spittle. And oh, the sound surrounded us; the choirs (Goldsmiths and the Brighton Symphony Chorus) were seated in a 120o-arc, and for the Day of Judgement there were trumpets at the two stage entrances.
Imagine Verdi's Dies Irae being the loudest sound you ever heard, at least while you were alive. There could well have been people for whom this was true. Two choirs and a symphony orchestra make a stupendous, skin-tinging, skull-ringing sound.
Other notes: Jean Rigby's wonderfully Gothic black cassock-dress, with pleats gathered under a sort of navel-boss (for which I'm sure there is a technical term). Looked very odd when she walked, but perfect when she stood and sang. She has a wonderfully austere face, and her whole manner was self-effacing, much less showy than Claire Rutter. And I adore Rigby's voice, and have done ever since I heard her sing in Offenbach's Contes d'Hoffman at the ENO. It's dark and rich and unforced; she doesn't hoot, as so many mezzos do.
Claire Rutter's voice was more traditionally operatic, and seemed a little forced, especially near the end -- I had the impression that occasionally, unexpectedly, the note just didn't happen; as though there was a loose connection somewhere (though of course this was not amplified). But at the end, her voice, soaring, put ice in my veins; a glimpse of cold heaven.
The percussionist on the big drum had a nice easy part: four great blows, delivered in each of three repetitions of the Dies Irae. He put his back into them, and paused for a moment, as if the drum was about to answer back, or might require further punishment.
One poor gentleman in the choir had to be taken out, mid-performance, by RAH staff. He was walking, but not well, and he collapsed into the wheelchair they brought for him. I hope he recovers.
Goldsmiths do a Messiah at the Albert Hall each Christmas. I'm tempted, this year ...
ladymoonray, her mum (WINOLJ) and I went to the Royal Albert Hall to hear Verdi's Requiem. (There were a lot of Americans in the seats around us. How did they know, when they booked?) London Philharmonic Orchestra (Brian Wright), Goldsmiths' Choral Union, Brighton Festival Chorus: soloists Claire Rutter (sop), Jean Rigby (mezzo), Wynne Evans (tenor), Matthew Rose (bass).It's an amazing work, dramatic and emotional while avoiding sentimentality. I have now seen it performed live three times. First, the ENO's dramatisation, which I recall as starkly and powerfully moving (it left me in helpless tears) though it was widely criticised. Then a concert performance at the Italian Church in Clerkenwell, in which a friend of mine was playing double-bass. Free, packed; I was distracted by the overwhelming decor of the place, all coloured marble and gilding and statuary.
And last night -- again, with a friend performing: Maggy's been singing with Goldsmiths' Choral Union for nearly a decade (though recently, like everyone in the choir, had to reaudition, and even have lessons ... but her reward was to be part of Simon Rattle's recording of Mahler's Symphony of a Thousand). We had excellent seats, 5 rows back in the arena, close enough to see the tenor's spittle. And oh, the sound surrounded us; the choirs (Goldsmiths and the Brighton Symphony Chorus) were seated in a 120o-arc, and for the Day of Judgement there were trumpets at the two stage entrances.
Imagine Verdi's Dies Irae being the loudest sound you ever heard, at least while you were alive. There could well have been people for whom this was true. Two choirs and a symphony orchestra make a stupendous, skin-tinging, skull-ringing sound.
Other notes: Jean Rigby's wonderfully Gothic black cassock-dress, with pleats gathered under a sort of navel-boss (for which I'm sure there is a technical term). Looked very odd when she walked, but perfect when she stood and sang. She has a wonderfully austere face, and her whole manner was self-effacing, much less showy than Claire Rutter. And I adore Rigby's voice, and have done ever since I heard her sing in Offenbach's Contes d'Hoffman at the ENO. It's dark and rich and unforced; she doesn't hoot, as so many mezzos do.
Claire Rutter's voice was more traditionally operatic, and seemed a little forced, especially near the end -- I had the impression that occasionally, unexpectedly, the note just didn't happen; as though there was a loose connection somewhere (though of course this was not amplified). But at the end, her voice, soaring, put ice in my veins; a glimpse of cold heaven.
The percussionist on the big drum had a nice easy part: four great blows, delivered in each of three repetitions of the Dies Irae. He put his back into them, and paused for a moment, as if the drum was about to answer back, or might require further punishment.
One poor gentleman in the choir had to be taken out, mid-performance, by RAH staff. He was walking, but not well, and he collapsed into the wheelchair they brought for him. I hope he recovers.
Goldsmiths do a Messiah at the Albert Hall each Christmas. I'm tempted, this year ...
