A Transcendent Brahms German Requiem
from Canton Symphony
By Tom Wachunas
In celebration of
its 30th Anniversary, the Canton Symphony Chorus joined the Canton
Symphony Orchestra on February 16 for the Masterworks Series concert at
Umstattd Hall. Augmented by the Malone University Chorus, the combined vocal
ensemble, conducted by Chorus Director Britt Cooper, gave a truly beautiful
account of the first work on the program -
Mozart’s brief motet, Ave verum
corpus (Hail True Body). Hushed and ethereal, the performance was
nonetheless an inspiring tone-setter for the more dramatically expansive Brahms
German Requiem that followed,
conducted by Maestro Gerhardt Zimmermann.
Unlike the
traditional Latin Mass for the Dead, this requiem eschewed the blunt Biblical
language of a wrathful God dispensing the fire and brimstone of the Last
Judgment. Brahms composed it more in the fashion of an oratorio in seven
movements, all with Old and New Testament texts intended to comfort the living
rather than warn the dead. Conceptually, the music traces a steady
transformation of dark mortality into the light of divine joy.
Happily, the chorus
was radiant, the orchestra powerful. Both ensembles were seamlessly blended
into an uncanny manifestation of unified purpose, making the work’s spirit of
solace and hope a soaring, visceral experience.
The emotional
thrust takes on especially poignant and dramatic dimensions in solos for
baritone (third and sixth movements) and soprano (fifth movement). The singing
by both guest artists – baritone Brian Keith Johnson and soprano Rachel Jeanne
Hall - was wholly impressive.
At the end of the
third movement there is a breathtaking crescendo - an orchestral and choral
swelling of affirmation - as Johnson solemnly intones, “Nun, Herr, wess soil ich mich trösten? (And now, Lord, what is my
hope?),” followed by the stirring response, “Ich hoffe auf dich (My hope
is in Thee).” Brahms added the fifth movement as a remembrance of his
beloved mother, who died in 1865. The text for the soprano soloist is from
Isaiah, promising the bereaved child the kind of comfort that a mother would
offer. Befitting the image, Hall’s achingly sweet soprano tonality, warm and
full, was a moving embodiment of maternal consolation.
In its day, this
Brahms masterpiece was soundly skewered by many critics on dogmatic, technical
and philosophical grounds. Wagner, particularly contemptuous of Brahms’ desire
that the work be regarded as a wholly German one, written for all of Germany,
once quipped that when his own generation passed, “…we will want no German Requiem to be played on our
ashes.”
In retrospect, such
short-sighted objections amount to missing the forest for the trees. This
performance illuminated Brahms’ own description of the work, repeated on
several occasions after its final version premiered in 1869, as a “human”
requiem. It is, after all, unequivocally a work for the ages, presented here
with compelling authority and palpable, indeed amazing grace.
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