Lexington Herald-Leader (KY)
2005-04-16
Section: City&Region
Edition: Final
Page: B4
VERDI'S 'REQUIEM' A SPINE-TINGLING EXPERIENCE
PERFORMANCE DOES JUSTICE TO GENIUS
Loren Tice
Special to the Herald-Leader
REVIEW
It is not often that we find ourselves in the presence of greatness. But that was the experience of hearing Giuseppe Verdi's Requiem last night at the final classics concert this season of the Lexington Philharmonic Orchestra at the University of Kentucky's Singletary Center for the Arts. You'd be forgiven for thinking that Verdi's Requiem, faithful to the medieval text, full of the dread of God, would have little to offer the cockiest of self-reliant cultures: ours. After all, do we really obsess about the Last Judgment, when "nothing will go unpunished?" It does seem, well, medieval.
But it would take a stone-cold cynic to remain unmoved when all hell breaks loose several minutes into the work. The Requiem is a field day for brass and high woodwinds, and the Philharmonic's battery was ferocious but focused in this cataclysmic storm. There is a terrifying implacability in such moments. We know the greatness of Michelangelo's Last Judgment in Rome's Sistine Chapel; this music is just as powerful.
Nevertheless, those terrifying moments are relatively short. The first "Dies irae" (Day of Wrath) only lasts for a minute and a half. Much more time is spent achieving intimacy, a sensation which emanates even from Verdi's full-throttle operas, such as Aida and Otello.
The Requiem begins with that intimate tone, in low strings with hushed voices. The ineffable sadness was beautifully rendered by The Lexington Singers. And here (often, in fact) it was good to be a cello -- such warm, welcoming tone!
For Verdi's time, the deeply personal human yearning found in the union of medieval text ("Save me, Lord, in your pity"; "Free me, Lord, free me from misery") and musical setting was startling and new. Solo voices, uninhibitedly operatic, plead directly to God. Volcanic emotions spill over: love for God, anger at God, hysteria, serenity.
How Verdi makes sense of it all is the true expression of his genius.
The soloist who captured all ears was the only Lexingtonian, soprano Vertrelle Mickens. Her full-throated voice rode high on waves of sound, and also deep into pathos at the end.
Bright-toned tenor Eric Ashcraft had an infectious enthusiasm that got him ahead of the music now and then, but that detracted little overall.
Dennis Bender's bass voice showed a deep richness. He was victimized the most by a too-fulsome orchestra. (It would be so nice to hear a true orchestral pianissimo!)
The toughest job of the solo crew was given to mezzo-soprano Jan Wilson. She was a thoroughly burnished alto, and yet she carried a vibrant tone to soprano heights. She and soprano Mickens were the most fully engaged in communicating the meaning of it all: human dignity amid great turmoil of spirit.
What one says to the chorus is bravo! Explosive diction, rhythmic vitality and tonal variety assuredly came from choral director Jefferson Johnson.
In sum, the text of the Requiem may be old, but the music's greatness speaks to our century, laying out the need for humility and honor in all cultures, in all times.
Section: City&Region
Edition: Final
Page: B4
VERDI'S 'REQUIEM' A SPINE-TINGLING EXPERIENCE
PERFORMANCE DOES JUSTICE TO GENIUS
Loren Tice
Special to the Herald-Leader
REVIEW
It is not often that we find ourselves in the presence of greatness. But that was the experience of hearing Giuseppe Verdi's Requiem last night at the final classics concert this season of the Lexington Philharmonic Orchestra at the University of Kentucky's Singletary Center for the Arts. You'd be forgiven for thinking that Verdi's Requiem, faithful to the medieval text, full of the dread of God, would have little to offer the cockiest of self-reliant cultures: ours. After all, do we really obsess about the Last Judgment, when "nothing will go unpunished?" It does seem, well, medieval.
But it would take a stone-cold cynic to remain unmoved when all hell breaks loose several minutes into the work. The Requiem is a field day for brass and high woodwinds, and the Philharmonic's battery was ferocious but focused in this cataclysmic storm. There is a terrifying implacability in such moments. We know the greatness of Michelangelo's Last Judgment in Rome's Sistine Chapel; this music is just as powerful.
Nevertheless, those terrifying moments are relatively short. The first "Dies irae" (Day of Wrath) only lasts for a minute and a half. Much more time is spent achieving intimacy, a sensation which emanates even from Verdi's full-throttle operas, such as Aida and Otello.
The Requiem begins with that intimate tone, in low strings with hushed voices. The ineffable sadness was beautifully rendered by The Lexington Singers. And here (often, in fact) it was good to be a cello -- such warm, welcoming tone!
For Verdi's time, the deeply personal human yearning found in the union of medieval text ("Save me, Lord, in your pity"; "Free me, Lord, free me from misery") and musical setting was startling and new. Solo voices, uninhibitedly operatic, plead directly to God. Volcanic emotions spill over: love for God, anger at God, hysteria, serenity.
How Verdi makes sense of it all is the true expression of his genius.
The soloist who captured all ears was the only Lexingtonian, soprano Vertrelle Mickens. Her full-throated voice rode high on waves of sound, and also deep into pathos at the end.
Bright-toned tenor Eric Ashcraft had an infectious enthusiasm that got him ahead of the music now and then, but that detracted little overall.
Dennis Bender's bass voice showed a deep richness. He was victimized the most by a too-fulsome orchestra. (It would be so nice to hear a true orchestral pianissimo!)
The toughest job of the solo crew was given to mezzo-soprano Jan Wilson. She was a thoroughly burnished alto, and yet she carried a vibrant tone to soprano heights. She and soprano Mickens were the most fully engaged in communicating the meaning of it all: human dignity amid great turmoil of spirit.
What one says to the chorus is bravo! Explosive diction, rhythmic vitality and tonal variety assuredly came from choral director Jefferson Johnson.
In sum, the text of the Requiem may be old, but the music's greatness speaks to our century, laying out the need for humility and honor in all cultures, in all times.
Reprinted courtesy of the Lexington Herald-Leader