Gabriel Fauré: Requiem in D Minor, Op. 48
Maurice Ravel: Shéhérazade, Op. 41
Maurice Ravel: La valse
Conductor: Alexander Soddy
Soprano: Golda Schultz
Baritone: Mikhail Timoshenko
After having unexpectedly strayed from my regular schedule the previous week, it was wonderfully comforting to resume my routine with the Orchestra dell’Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia and return to the Auditorium Parco della Musica Ennio Morricone last Saturday evening at 6:00 PM. And not just for any program either as last week’s line-up featured Gabriel Fauré et Maurice Ravel, two remarkable French composers who embody the relatively challenging transition from the 19th century to the 20th century with their own innovative spirits and common sense of refinement.
So, in the end, that Valentine’s Day, which started with low skies and fierce showers, slowly but surely got better with a fabulous breakfast with friends, the consolidation of exciting travel plans, an engaging visit to the ever-interesting MAXXI museum—Never mind that the free entrance offer had brought hordes of people who stubbornly stuck around even during lunch time—before wrapping up with an early concert celebrating French culture. I could not have asked for much more.
The performance started with one of Fauré’s shortest and most beloved works in Pavane, an amuse-bouche that immediately assured us that orchestra and chorus were in excellent shape. It just as quickly demonstrated that the occupants of the entire section I was sitting in would not be able to see the screen above the stage due to the sizable smorgasbord of lighting, recording and acoustic equipment hanging from the ceiling (sigh).
At least the frustratingly obstructed view was not an issue for Fauré’s Requiem since it is a well-known piece whose content is predictable anyway. Let’s not forget, however, that Fauré made sure to put his own personal touch to the Latin mass, which essentially consisted in taking out the dark side of death, including the terror usually felt when facing the unknown, and focus on the original meaning of the word “requiem”, which is “rest”, instead. Therefore, his after-life journey is all about eternal hope, peaceful acceptance and sweet comfort, the exquisite music bringing solace and serenity to the inevitable proceedings.
And I must confess that not having the lyrics to follow made me appreciate the musicians and singers even more. Most particularly, the uniformly superb chorus dealt with its multi-layered parts with savviness and sensitivity, while Juilliard-trained and Berlin-based South African soprano Golda Schultz was simply extraordinary as she deftly unfolded the soaring melody of the “Pie Jesu” aria. As the performance was constantly reaching for new heights, one could easily imagine cherubic angels scattered around the auditorium attentively listening and readily approving.
After intermission, we jumped ahead a few decades and found ourselves in the mysterious world of the Far East of Ravel’s Shéhérazade, his exotic symphonic poem for voice and orchestra, featuring Schultz again. Although her contribution was much more significant in this piece, she had the vivacious orchestra to contend with this time, and consequently the whole experience of hearing her sing, while still supremely enjoyable, was less uplifting. Truth be told, as far as I am concerned, when it comes to Scheherazade, Rimski-Korsakov’s version is the one to beat, and it hasn’t happened yet.
After leisurely basking in Ravel’s pining for far-away wonderlands, we were jolted back to reality by the overwhelming intensity of his ground-breaking La valse. Originally conceived as a ballet score and described by Ravel himself as a “choreographic poem for orchestra”, the boldly inventive tribute to the traditional waltz exuded the timeless elegance of the Old World while repeatedly getting dangerously close to the edge of the dark abyss that is the Modern World. And that’s how our French soirée ended with the resounding final blast of this thrillingly intoxicating, resolutely forward-looking wild ride.
