Giuseppe Verdi is arguably the greatest musical dramatist the world has known and his Requiem is a monumental composition, imaginative and powerfully theatrical. After four long years in gestation, the vision of producing the Requiem in Colombo was realized on March 7, with a soaring performance that will be talked about, written about and remembered for all time.
The resolve to perform the Requiem in Colombo on the scale envisioned was as ambitious as would be in hosting an Olympic event. Some 150 local and international instrumentalists and vocalists were chosen to perform this enormous work under the baton of Gregory Rose at the Anglican Cathedral of Christ the Living Saviour. Unsurprisingly, the word Requiem was buzzing with excitement as the media carried loads of stories about the upcoming event. For many, there was intense anticipation and excitement while others were breathlessly anxious about securing a seat.
Admission was free and so was seating––a rare sweetener and a fitting tribute to Kalakeerthi Dr. Earle de Fonseka who left his estate to a trust that sponsored the evening’s performance.
At ten past seven
The performance was to start at 7 p.m. Moments afterwards Ajit Abeysekera spoke a few words about how the programme would proceed. And then of course nothing happened; the orchestra, singers and the audience were immersed in an embarrassing suspense. Just before 7.10 p.m. the four soloists emerged––the two sopranos in full splendour wrapped in their gorgeous dresses and tenor and bass in full black. Under their shadow as it were conductor Gregory Rose followed unobtrusively.
It was a refreshing change to hear the National Anthem sung in full; and that was a full-bodied rendering that mobilized all the resources intended for the Requiem. The effect was striking and it also gave a foretaste of the acoustics.
The configuration of movables inside the Cathedral had been rearranged to position the large contingent of musicians and vocalists into a packed mass. Big television screens had been strategically installed possibly for the benefit of those seated outside the line of sight of the performers. Hazardously criss-crossing audio, video and power cables connected to cameras indicated that the performance was to be video-recorded. The fact that the conductor’s back faced the altar was an unintended consequence.
Given that there was nothing much one could do about the concrete columns and other hard surfaces inside the cathedral, the acoustics in the main were good-to-excellent. I was awkwardly located about ten feet obliquely in front of the soloists; hence the acoustic effects I experienced might not have been the same from other positions. The sound quality at very high dynamic levels in the low-frequency ranges had no transparency at all. The full-blast dynamics of Dies irae turned out to be a dense aural experience. On the other hand the mid-to-high frequency ranges, particularly of the strings, produced a deep and absolutely luscious tonal fabric of the right degree of dryness.
A good DVD of the live performance with dolby/dts multi-channel encoding would “immortalize” this event and make it possible for those who missed it to watch it from their living rooms. This could also be a commercial opportunity.
Verdi’s creativity and belief
The lavish Requiem is the most sacred work of the late 19th century. It is not so much a statement of belief as it is a transformation of the rich dramatic possibilities of the Latin text into the language of the opera. Michael Steinberg, former programme annotator for several prestigious orchestras, believes that the Requiem is nourished by opera, unimaginable without opera and ultimately unperformable by conductors and singers who do not understand and adore opera. In historian Peter Conrad’s perception ……“Verdi hears everyone at once and distributes music impartially to all men alike....as if a god were listening to the polyphonic hubbub of the human race”.
Verdi was a non-believer if not an atheist and any doubt about the separability of passionate creativity and belief is resolved here.
Even in the best of circumstances, casting soloists for Verdi’s Requiem has never been easy. Not many top sopranos in the world would automatically qualify. Some believe that it demands an “Aida” voice with dominating characteristics and yet capable of quiet, sensitive singing and phrasing.
In Sri Lanka’s western-music culture we do not have the luxury of making choices in that way. What is gratifying for us is that all the four soloists in the Requiem were from Asia and three of them were Sri Lankans. They showed skill and endurance to cope with the demands of a large-scale work. Overall, soprano Kishani Jayasinghe whilst carrying a heavy load gave a sparkling performance that had class. With laser-beam pitch accuracy she can target and sustain the highs and control contrasting dynamics and colour effortlessly. Mezzo soprano Gayathrie Patrick played her matching role with character; her slightly darker and robust voice was an asset in the high-energy parts of her singing. The tenor Amar Muchhala and bass Dhilan Gnanadurai gave spirited performances.
The Requiem began with the cellos in a melodic sweep that whirled us down to profound depths of religiousness; a gentle heartfelt prayer for eternal rest was set against appealing sounds of the violins. The chorus and soloists took turns to sing Kyrie eleison, the prayer for mercy, with stirring power and imagination, ending magically with some tranquil lines of harmony from the orchestra.
Dies irae reverberated in the cathedral with flutes, clarinets, bassoons, strings and half-whispering choruses adding to the thunderous percussion of the bass drums. And when the Tuba mirum followed, necks turned around looking for the eerie-sounding off-stage trumpets. For most listeners however they weren’t visible though the sound was audible. Quiet returned when the bass sang a brief but difficult Mors stupebit––“Death and Nature shall stand amazed”.
Recordare, delectably sung by the Soprano and the Mezzo was one of the most irresistible moments in the programme; though textually it is a personal prayer to merciful Jesus, evocatively, it was operatic. The two sopranos while physically apart were poignantly embraced in song––Verdian passion was written all over it. Muchhala’s aria Ingemisco, sung with penetrating passion and whispering violins in the background sustained that operatic resonance.
The raucous beginning of Sequenza came to a lamenting conclusion with a magnificent rendering of Lacrimosa. The women soloists bewailed breathlessly (Lacrimosa dies illa––“that day is one of weeping”), pitching high above the mass of voices. The section came to an engrossing end with a full-bodied “Amen” and a long chordal line from a blend of strings and winds.
The chorus was silent for the Offertorio that commenced with an ascending sweep of the cellos. Domine Jesu Christe began with great fervour. The three lower voices had a long spell resting the soprano for lofty things to come. It was Kishani Jayasinghe’s finest hour and a defining moment in the Requiem. With a breath-taking leap her lone voice was suspended in the air as if the entire fate of the music hung seemingly forever on the note she held. That of course was ephemeral; equally dramatically her voice dropped down a semitone and the tension was somewhat relieved. Here was Verdi at his finest in creating gripping melodrama using the infinite vocabulary of sound.
Hostias et preces took off powerfully with light radiating from the tenor’s opening solo and the bass taking the baton. The rest was spacious singing by the four soloists with fugal elements and trills adding to the richness. The soprano’s brief “soft highs” didn’t go unnoticed. The section ended with a gentle refrain from the flute and the strings that had a nostalgic evocation. The atmosphere changed dramatically when blazing trumpets and an assertive fugue from the chorus introduced the Sanctus with jubilation.
After all the drama and high dynamics, the Agnus Dei, starting with just plain voices, was mood-changing and sublimely beautiful. The Lux aeterna once again was only for the three lower voices; here Gayathrie Patrick’s starting solo was absolutely lustrous and endearing with tender and soft violins adding to the ambience. Shades of Requiem aeternam returned with the bass’s solemn declamation.
The final prayer
I suppose for want of a better word Libera me was the Epilogue to the Requiem. Once again soprano Jayasinghe (as the sole soloist) was under the spotlight; but this time her task was to deliver to the world an anguished plea for deliverance. And she didn’t disappoint. A murmuring chorus responded to her dramatic recitative and ariosa.
The Dies irae reprised with a torrential outburst of terror; the mood changed with the return of a ‘reengineered’ Requiem aeternam. With disarming expressiveness the soprano glided over the voices of an unaccompanied chorus. And then a high-voltage climax witnessed the explosion of blaring trumpets while the chorus fired on all cylinders and the tireless soprano reigned supreme in the territory of higher octaves.
The torrential storm at last ended and all the fury dissipated into an intensely moving close; the soprano, chorus and the orchestra said their final prayer in deep solemnity: just two words, Libera me, repeated twice, held harmonically together over a long unbroken interval. Their intense sonic imagery still resonates inside me.
Gregory Rose ––The
presiding genius
For some Colombo ladies there is some magnetism in the persona of Gregory Rose. His name conjures up silky-white locks of hair, delicious eyelids and a floating presence that is hallucinatory.
But he is made of sterner stuff––to begin with, he was the presiding deity and the gentle genius behind the overwhelming performance which was a triumph of self-effacement.
He is a versatile musician––conductor, composer and experimenter with an extensive repertoire. His discography includes CDs recorded on prestigious labels. It is safe to assume that with the Requiem, Gregory Rose has cemented a strong long-term bond with the Sri Lankan musical community. This is good for all concerned.
To the dead and the
disconnected
In this day and age in Sri Lanka, it is unimaginable that the monumental Requiem ever happened in the way it did. Daniel Barenboim’s words in relation to the Ramallah Concert keep ringing in my ears: “the impossible is easier than the difficult”. The conductor, performers, organizers, sponsors, and others had worked selflessly. I doubt if they were driven by charity, commercial interest or recognition; I believe it was for the sheer joy and excitement of ‘togetherness in making music’ on a scale never before contemplated.
And moreover, momentously, it took place in the backdrop of a critical juncture in the country’s decades-long conflict. We have experienced in various ways and revelations the worst of terror, violence, brutality, destruction, hatred and bitterness. It has fractured our national psyche that will take generations to heal.
Is there anything that the Requiem can offer to thousands of people whose lives have been lost in battle or in consequence of it and to others who are culturally, emotionally and intellectually disconnected from the edifying impact of aesthetic experienc? Yes, but only symbolically.
Verdi’s Requiem is a Roman Mass for the Dead--a ritualistic response to the human drama of death and the door to eternal bliss. It also embodies the human desire for forgiveness and mercy.
Verdi left to the world an enduring legacy of music, patriotism and honour. He was a nationalist who yearned for the freedom and unification of Italy from Austrian domination.
In all humility, I warmly embrace this wonderful performance and all its participants to plead that a thought be spared for all those affected victims, and to fervently hope that peace, reconciliation and tolerance will return for all to live a normal life with security, and for those still alive, the blossoming of a renewal to experience the universal spirituality inherent in music. |
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