Verdi’s Requiem
A Coda to ‘A Singer’s Guide to the Great Composers – Verdi’
It occurs to me that, in my last article, I neglected to write about the one work by Verdi that I have performed almost more than any other. I refer of course to his great Requiem.
When Rossini died in 1868, Verdi suggested that a number of composers collaborated in a Requiem Mass in his honour. The plan, like many collaborations in the Arts, floundered, and just before the premiere in 1869, for which Verdi composed a ‘Libera Me’, the project collapsed. Verdi thought his ‘Libera Me’ rather good and pondered what to do with it. In 1873, the Italian writer, Alessandro Manzoni, whom Verdi admired greatly, died at the age of 88 and the composer set to work to compose a Requiem in his honour. He worked on it in Paris, revising the ‘Libera Me’ for Rossini and, in May 1874, the Requiem received its first performance in the Church of San Marco in Milan, followed almost immediately by a second performance at Teatro La Scala in the same city. Verdi conducted, and the soloists were all singers who had either sung or been engaged to sing in the first European premiere of ‘Aida’ two years before. It was an immediate success, but was also criticised for being too operatic, and not appropriate for a religious piece. Strangely, it fell out of the standard concert repertoire, and it was not until the 1930s that it came to be recognised as the masterpiece it truly is. Nowadays, it is performed quite frequently, but remains a huge undertaking for any amateur choir or orchestra, and it needs proper operatic voices for its four soloists.
I was lucky to get to sing it in the choir with the Edinburgh Choral Union while still at school in Edinburgh, and had the opportunity to sing the bass solo for the first time while still a student at the Guildhall School of Music. The prestigious Dulwich College in London decided to put it on in the Royal Festival Hall, with an augmented school orchestra and choir and professional (student) soloists. I was really too young to be able to do justice to this magnificent work, but I got the bug, and determined to sing it again when I was a bit older.
Fortunately, opportunities came many times, in marvellous venues across the British Isles, and I came to love the piece. I wrote in my original article about Verdi, that I never really thought I had the right voice for Verdi’s operatic bass roles, but somehow, the Requiem fitted like a glove, and every time I sing it now, it gives me a special thrill. The first utterance for the bass comes in the ‘Kyrie’, after the choral Introit, as each soloist has a sweeping upward phrase in which each has a chance to show off a big voice and exciting high notes. When the ‘Dies Irae’ starts, with its thunderous fortissimi telling of the end of the world, it feels like the whole building shakes. The trumpets proclaiming the Last Trump can be utterly terrifying and exultant at the same time, and after all the noise, the bass quietly sings of Death being struck dumb as Creation awaits the judgement of God, rising to a great E flat on “Responsura”.
This whole ‘Dies Irae’ section is marvellous in its conception, with dramatic contrasts between the chorus, orchestra and soloists. After the tenor sings of hope of avoiding the flames of Hell, and being set as a sheep separated from the goats at the right hand of God, the bass thunders in, condemning the cursed ones and looking for a place among the blessed. Take care of my ending, he cries, rising to an even bigger E natural, but the chorus roar back with more screams of the day of Judgement. Yet, in another magical transformation, the mezzo and bass implore God to spare the soul of the dead, even on that tearful last day. In a really difficult a capella section (solo singers alone and unaccompanied), Jesus is invoked to grant mercy and eternal rest. This is one of several a capella sections of the Requiem which need big voices able to listen to each other and tune accordingly. Sadly, this is not always achieved, and I have heard some performances of the Requiem which were awful, with famous singers not listening, and ploughing on regardless of whether they are in the right place or not. Fortunately, the modern professional singer is generally better prepared and trained, and I have never had any problems of this sort in performance, but these sections do come as a shock when you first start to learn them!
The Hostias comes next and is one of the stand-out sections of the work. Again it needs subtle singing from big voices but can be one of the most satisfying to sing, as Verdi conjures up magical sounds from the orchestra and the soloists.
The Sanctus is an amazing double chorus, as far removed from Renaissance and Baroque versions of the Requiem as possible. Normally the chorus sing ‘Holy, Holy, Holy’ in hushed tones, but Verdi gives the choir and orchestra full rein with trumpet fanfares and a double fugue. It is exhilarating, if not very reverential. This movement in particular has been a source of problems for listeners to the Requiem, some deeming it outrageous and trite. The thing was that Verdi was not conventionally religious and imagined the Requiem as a sort of spiritual opera, much as Rossini had done in his even more wildly operatic ‘Stabat Mater’, which I have also greatly enjoyed singing. Not being myself religious, I have no problems with either setting, but I can see that some people might think that the composer was being wilfully trivial. However, I do think his purpose in writing this piece, and the magnificently inventive thought that went into it, absolves Verdi from any blame, and it arouses very powerful emotions in an audience, whether religious or not.
For me, his one misstep is the next section, the ‘Agnus Dei’. This is for the two female singers and chorus and starts with the Soprano and Mezzo singing in unison, but an octave apart, and unaccompanied. The scoring becomes more interesting as it proceeds, and certainly Verdi’s intention was good, but the huge distance between the notes of the two singers often results in them going flat, and when the orchestra eventually comes in, it is not rare for the soloists to be well out of tune. A good idea by Verdi, but impractical. Mind you, who am I to complain?
‘Lux Aeterna’ is scored for the three lower soloists, and is their last chance to be heard, and what a movement this is. The Mezzo starts off, but the Bass keeps repeating ‘Requiem Aeternam’ in the middle of his voice with great low brass accompaniment. This imploring of eternal rest granted by God to the dead is deeply expressive and is one of the parts I love most to sing.
For the final movement, ‘Libera me Domine de Morte Aeterna’, Verdi returned to his plan for the Rossini Requiem, but revised and improved. It is a tremendous part for the Soprano, dramatic, quiet, imploring, with a big top C thrown in. Towards the end, there is a wonderfully hushed section, for Soprano and Chorus, unaccompanied, ending in a pianissimo top B flat, which tests every singer I have heard to the maximum. It takes a lot of courage to sing that really quiet top note, after all she has sung previously in the work. You may remember, when Princess Diana was laid to rest, this movement was sung by the Cathedral Choir and Lynne Dawson in front of a church packed with dignitaries and broadcast on television to millions around the world. Now, Lynne has a lovely light voice, usually associated with the Baroque repertoire (she sings on my ‘Messiah’ recording on DG), and I take my metaphorical hat off to that performance in Westminster Abbey. For sheer guts and chutzpah, I can’t think of many more scary things to sing than a pianissimo top B Flat in front of those watching millions! She nailed it!
I have been fortunate to sing this great piece many times. I remember a performance in Bath Abbey when my baby daughter snored loudly during one of the quiet bits. I remember another at the Royal Military College at Kneller Hall in Surrey, where the army trumpeters played the ‘Dies Irae’ like I had never heard it before or since – terrifying! My last outings have been at Chester Cathedral with their marvellous choir, and in the Younger Hall in St Andrews with the St Andrews Chorus, and a quartet of soloists chosen by me, a real indulgence which worked a treat.
I hesitate to recommend a recording, and I know that my favourite, conducted by Carlo Maria Giulini, will not please everyone, but all I would say is to look for your favourite singers and conductors, and take a punt. If you have never heard this masterpiece, try it out now, as it must be part of your life’s listening experience.
