Berberis' World

Saturday, 7th February 2009, Royal Festival Hall.

“… one of Neeme Järvi’s great strengths lies in allowing the excellent choir to sing with what sounds like an almost improvisatory fluency, though it is of course the product of a deep understanding and watchful control of Dvorak’s melodic lines. These can be unexpected; the music here sounds natural and always expressive. […] The heavy rhythms of the ‘Dies irae’ are far more telling than over-emphatic thumping; the touch of harshness at the opening of the ‘Tuba mirum’ exactly reflects the intention of the music; in the ‘Pie Jesu’ there is grace and gentleness that never lapses towards sentimentality.”

John Warrack, Gramophone.

For a long time, whenever I heard the name ‘Dvorak’ the only thing that came to mind was Sally Field in ‘Sybil’. Since that movie was made, I probably have – albeit unknowingly – heard music by Dvorak, but I’ve never sung any, and didn’t have a clue what to expect when I got hold of the score of his Requiem Mass.

It opens beautifully. Low and soft, with hairpins everywhere, until B when it’s suddenly fortissimo, phrasing away to piano, then again, before it’s fortissimo until the tenor entrance. I love the triplets here. The other 3 soloists join for 12 bars or so, before more hairpins (Dvorak seems inordinately fond of them) some pp interjections into G, when the last 6 bars crescendo to ff and the orchestra ties up the loose ends.

The next movement is mainly for the soprano soloist, with chorus sops and alts at A and B. The best bit, however, is at C. Here, the tenors and basses divide and murmur in glorious harmony for 10 bars.

Dies Irae is completely different. Fast and loud and angry with all voice parts getting their ten penn’orth in until we all run out of energy at bar 74. There’s a scribbled note in my copy which says “don’t turn the page until it’s loud enough”. The rustle of pages turned too loudly during a lull in a performance is not only extremely irritating but also very unprofessional, and should not be tolerated even in an amateur choir. You should always know where (and how!) to turn a page to cause the least possible noise – and it’s not always where you think.

We were warned that he would take the Quam olim Abrahae very quickly, and he did. Indeed, the warning had been so oft repeated that, if you listen carefully to the recording, you can hear that we took it slightly faster than the orchestra, albeit briefly.

There are some other splendid moments: the opening of the Confutatis, bars 79-89 and 137-139 of the Agnus Dei… and some really duff ones (bar 80-84 of the Lacrimosa and Fig. A to E of the Offertorium).

To close, and as I’m struggling to find much more to say about the rest of it, I would describe Dvorak’s Requiem as a grower. At approximately the speed of a Sitka spruce.