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Britten: War Requiem Op.66 (CD)
"Gerald Finley has formidable recorded competition ... but he can take his place beside the best of them." Opera News
"Gerald Finley is a splendid choice for the baritone part; he has the necessary flexibility and range as well as the requisite strength ..." Classicalsource
Composer: Benjamin Britten
Conductor: Kurt Masur, Neville Creed
Performers:
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Christine Brewer (soprano)
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Anthony Dean Griffey (tenor)
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Gerald Finley (baritone)
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Tiffin Boys' Choir
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London Philharmonic Choir
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London Philharmonic Orchestra
Recorded: 8 May 2005 at the Royal Festival Hall, London. Click here for details
Released:
July 25, 2006
Code: LPO – 0010
Duration: 84 minutes
Number of Discs: 2
Label: London Philharmonic
ASIN: B000F9SZMG
Track samples: click on each title to hear a musical extract
2. What Passing-Bells For These Who Die As Cattle?
3. Dies Irae
4. Bugles Sang (GF)
6. Out There, We've Walked Quite Friendly Up To Death (GF and tenor)
7. Recordare
9. Be Slowly Lifted Up, Thou Long Black Arm (GF)
10. Lacrimosa
Disc: 2
1. Offertorium
2. So Abram Rose, And Clave The Wood (GF and tenor)
3. Sanctus
4. Benedictus
5. After The Blast of Lightning From The East (GF)
6. Agnus Dei
7. Libera Me
8. It Seemed That Out Of BattleI Escaped
9. 'Let Us Sleep Now...' (GF and tenor)
What the critics say
Reviewed by Timothy Ball for Classicalsource.com
http://www.classicalsource.com/db_control/db_cd_review.php?id=3551
Following its premiere at the re-built Coventry Cathedral on 30 May 1962 (does the BBC broadcast of what was, by all accounts, an extraordinary occasion, still exist?) Benjamin Britten's "War Requiem" 'caught on' in a quite remarkable way for a contemporary composition.
In January the following year, the composer conducted what must be reckoned to be the definite recorded performance – now re-issued on Decca's recently launched 'Originals' label. On hand, besides the LSO and Chorus, The Bach Choir, Highgate School Choir and the Melos Ensemble, were the solo voices Britten had in mind when composing their music – Galina Vishnevskaya (who was forbidden by Soviet authorities from participating in the Coventry performance), Peter Pears and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. It is a hard task to match – let alone surpass – Britten's own version, and it is no surprise that it went unchallenged until EMI released a recording under Simon Rattle in 1983. Since then there have been others; some from the studio (such as Hickox in 1991) and others, like this, taken from 'live' performances.
It really is quite difficult to believe that this LPO issue is taken from a single concert, since there is no discernible audience noise, neither are there any major flaws in execution, particularly in terms of ensemble and balance. Moreover, the Royal Festival Hall acoustic – as recorded – does not have the constricted quality one might expect. A critic commented on the RFH's “inappropriately clinical acoustic” when writing about an early performance of “War Requiem” in that venue, conducted by the composer. Britten himself said that he had designed the work “for a big reverberant acoustic, and that is where it sounds best”. In any event, one need have no reservations about the recorded sound. There is a good overall balance, with the boys suitably distant and ethereal.
"War Requiem" is a work with which Kurt Masur closely identifies. He has, in fact, recorded it before – with the New York Philharmonic – also 'live', on Teldec. That is a distinguished reading and bespeaks close study of the score. However, this London account has rather more 'edge' to it. Fine though the Teldec recording and performance is, it sometimes sounds too 'comfortable' for Britten's troubled conception. Tempos, overall, are finely judged. In only a couple of instances would I have preferred something other; the boys' intervention in the first movement is a little too stately for the 'quick crotchets' given in the score. Similarly, when the tenor recalls this music in his first solo, the direction 'always animated' is not given its due. The baritone's commentary on the 'Sanctus' also lacks a sense of urgency, but in general, Masur (not forgetting Neville Creed directing the Chamber Orchestra) finds just the right amount of propulsion, and the weight of the overall ensemble in the big choral movements. 'Dies Irae', 'Sanctus' and 'Libera me' are immensely impressive, as is the fleet-footed account of the 'Offertorium', where the staggered choral entries are spot-on.
Galina Vishnevskaya's highly distinctive timbre is not to everyone's taste, but it is what the composer wanted. Her very individual utterance is probably inimitable. Indeed, on Rattle's recording, Elisabeth Söderström is positively gentle and soft-grained by direct comparison. Christine Brewer is extremely effective, whether in prodigious declamations (her cries of 'Rex tremendae majestatis' are indeed majestic and tremendous) or in the lamenting of the 'Lacrimosa' where she is most moving without excessive emoting. She soars effortlessly over the massed forces towards the conclusion of the work, without apparent strain. Gerald Finley is a splendid choice for the baritone part; he has the necessary flexibility and range as well as the requisite strength for 'Be slowly lifted up thou long black arm', with its terrifying top 'G' at its close, which Finely delivers with heroic tone. I was, however, distracted by the pause that precedes this section – no rest is indicated; the timpani of the Chamber Orchestra should, literally, interrupt what has gone before. Whether this is due to a problem of the tracking, or some other hiatus, it is impossible to tell.
I have some reservations concerning Anthony Dean Griffey. The tenor's part demands a wide range of expression, but Griffey is often much too loud. He is also rather free with some of the rhythmic writing and, on occasions, prefers an almost 'sprechstimme' approach to Britten's note values. Furthermore, his vowels are curiously formed, and when, in Griffey’s rendition, the 'a' in a word like 'fatuous' acquires an 'r' after it, it is unfortunate to say the least.
The orchestral playing – both from the main orchestra and its chamber colleagues – is unimpeachable and there is most certainly a sense of 'occasion' and 'involvement' about the performance that is quite gripping. The fiery fanfares of the 'Dies Irae', for instance, convey all the sense of dread the composer was surely aiming for.
Jon Alan Conrad, Opera News, November 2006 , vol 71 , no.5
How recently it seems we had only the composer's own outstanding recording of this masterwork, with its multilevel interweaving of the Latin text of the Mass for the Dead with Wilfrid Owen's searing poetry. And now there are so many recorded versions that I wouldn't dare try to list or count them all.
This new War Requiem, recorded in performance in May 2005 and presented by the London Philharmonic Orchestra on its own new label, earns a place on the list. It deserves to be heard especially for two of its vocal soloists. Gerald Finley has formidable recorded competition — Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, John Shirley-Quirk, Thomas Hampson, to name just a few — but he can take his place beside the best of them. His beautiful baritone is firm and responsive at all pitches and dynamic levels, his communication of the Owen poems eloquent, his musicality finding and expressing the point of every detail. Christine Brewer is equally fine: the soprano role is more remote, less conducive to intimate inflections than those of the men, and it has been rendered in recordings and performances by some splendid artists. But I can't recall any of them achieving Brewer's distinctive combination of vocal amplitude, consistent tonal beauty, minute command of a full range of dynamics, pitch and color, and long-breathed expressive line.
Anthony Dean Griffey, impressive enough by most standards, is not quite up to the level of his fellow soloists. Though his timbre can be uncannily reminiscent of the role's creator, Peter Pears, occasionally his pitch is not cleanly defined, and his singing loses clarity and presence as it gets softer. The difference is particularly audible when he and Finley sing together, in harmony or imitation.
As he did in his first recording on Teldec, Kurt Masur employs a secondary conductor for the chamber orchestra (this was done for the premiere also, the composer taking the role); Neville Creed handles these duties ably and also serves as chorus master (although the chorus is either too few in number for optimum effect or has been cheated by the recording balance). Masur himself fails to make his points as incisively as he did in his previous effort; rhythmic transitions lack the inevitable surge they should have, and a number of passages — notably those evoking lamentation or suffering — pass by too easily and smoothly, without the deep ache they can have. He has the piece well under control, of course, but he gives the impression of expecting it to make its effects automatically.
The recording effectively maintains a sense of space, with the various performing groups remarkably well separated. Yet, like the performance itself, the engineering (in addition to whatever role it may play in lack of presence for Griffey and the chorus) misses something of the overwhelming impact that these massed forces should have. Included are a historical-analytical note, texts and translations, and a generous number of tracking points within movements.