Shelley delivers on best qualities of German Requiem
BRAHMS REQUIEM REVIEW
National Arts Centre, Southam Hall Reviewed Wednesday night, concert repeats Thursday.
Brahms was just 32 years old when he began composing his German Requiem. He was grieving his mother’s recent death, and still shaken by the ghastly demise (mental illness, botched suicide, asylum) of his friend Robert Schumann a few years earlier. Brahms channelled all his genius, sorrow, and his hunger for comfort, into this work, one of the towering summits of choral composition.
Alexander Shelley led the NAC Orchestra and combined chorus in a performance that delivered on the piece’s humane, sublimely consoling qualities. The opening movement (Selig Sind, die da Leid tragen), was taken at a slightly more forward-moving tempo than the norm, emphasizing the light rather than the shadows. The funeral march second movement had a solemn grandeur and tragic weight, underlined by some thrilling Judgment Day procla- mations from the horns.
This was my first opportunity to observe Shelley conducting a large choir. His approach is admirable: miraculously clear, acutely attentive, instilling confidence without condescension. However, the Requiem’s spectacular, demanding fugue sections exposed the choir’s weaknesses, and needed more decisive tautness and muscle.
Baritone James Westman, singing from behind the orchestra with the choir, displayed commanding tone and a refined sense for the textual subtleties in Herr lehre doch mich.
In the first half, pianist Jan Lisiecki performed the Schumann Concerto, a last-minute replacement for an injured Alice Sara Ott. The Calgary-born Lisiecki is a hot commodity these days, with a prestigious recording contract for Deutsche Grammophon. But I often find his live performances inexplicably erratic, and this was no exception.
The first movement lurched along, more awkward than affectionate, with irritating, fussy rubato and a sound that sounded trapped behind the keys. Then, just when you want to throw your program in frustration, he launches into the most masterful cadenza: noble, sweeping, with a tone that suddenly becomes embracing and warm, as if someone flipped a switch. The third movement had irresistible gallantry and panache.
Another of Brahms’ meditations on death, Nänie, opened the program. This was a lovely, elegant reading of this seldom-performed work — unlike less graceful conductors, I could watch Shelley conduct in 6/8 tempo all day long.