Thursday night at Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center, in the first of three scheduled performances of Brahms’ German Requiem this week by the Dallas Symphony Orchestra, this listener was reminded that even in the rich and crowded field of choral-orchestral masterpieces, this work towers above the rest.
What’s more, music director Jaap van Zweden proved that, after a century and a half as one of the most frequently performed works in the repertoire, there are still new insights to be found in Brahms’ extraordinary combination of text and music.
The words themselves demand fresh examination, even in 2010. Brahms, a confirmed agnostic who read daily from Luther’s German translation of the Bible, appropriated texts from the Old and New Testaments as well as the Apocrypha, arranging seven interdependent movements. In the process, he created an entirely new meaning from those old words. (It’s worth noting that in a time in which widespread religious prejudice has once again reared its destructive head in our society, the entire text of Brahms’ Requiem is sacred to Islam and Christianity, and that even the sections from the New Testament relate closely to Judaism, and, for that matter, virtually all major religions.)
On first glance, Brahms seems merely to have gathered a collection of mournful reflections on the death-bound status of humanity, alternating with words of consolation, assurance, and promise of immortality. On closer examination, the alert listener must eventually realize that Brahms, in arranging these texts, presents themes that are both disturbing and comforting. Brahms unmistakably equates death with God, and points out that to reach God, one must die. In the closing passages, he moves beyond words and, with the reiteration of the opening musical motive, reminds us that those who mourn and those who die are, in the end, the same. Ideally the listener should leave the performance, not so much comforted, but, like the wedding guest in Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner, forlorn, sadder, and wiser.
Conductor van Zweden clearly realizes the cumulative elements in a work that is simultaneously a balanced, symmetrical arch and a compelling, momentous drama moving toward reconciliation and apotheosis. In his rendition, the opening was, even for this work, strikingly quiet, successfully demanding that the listener banish the noise of the 21st century from his or her consciousness and ponder, with uncrowded mentality, humanity’s fleeting status—as temporary as the grass of the field. At other times, Van Zweden found striking elements that are generally overlooked—for instance, the disquieting horn call in the second movement, which conductors more often leave hidden in the layered choral-orchestral textures. Van Zweden relied on very flexible tempos, at times slowing to underline a point, or, as in the opening passages of the final movement, selecting an uncommonly brisk pacing to create an unusually radiant reading.
Baritone soloist Russell Braun matched Van Zweden’s reading with an almost operatic outlook, while soprano Laura Aiken, appropriate to her brief but intense solo, was strong, focused, and reflective. The Dallas Symphony Chorus, trained for this concert by guest chorus master Dennis Shrock (currently interim director of choral activities at Texas Christian University), performed with its characteristic precision and magnificent range of color and dynamic levels.
