Random Intuitions: May 2012

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Hearing A German Requiem Again--for the First Time

John Eliot Gardiner offers a new interpretation of Brahms' highly personal German Requiem; one which shines in fascinating, unorthodox ways...and doesn't disappoint until the very end.

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I've been unabashedly in love with Brahms' Ein deutches Requiem(A German Requiem) for over three decades. I have performed the piece as a choral singer, listened to every new recording of it available, and gone to hear it performed in concert as often as possible.

This morning, I heard it as if for the first time.

I was perusing the "New Releases" section of Amazon.com, and discovered to my delight that John Eliot Gardiner had released a new recording of the Brahms masterwork with his Monteverdi Choir and the Revolutionary and Romantic Orchestra of Europe. The English maestro is a virtuoso conductor; he recorded this work once before (in 1991) with the same ensembles. Both are world-class and on the cutting edge of period performance practice. This recording of the Requiem breaks new ground in terms of interpretation and performance, and deserves a hearing by devotees of Brahms everywhere.

Maestro Gardiner's Monteverdi sopranos carry the soaring, stratospheric melodies so essential to the piece with seemingly effortless aplomb, and the choir's intonation is flawless throughout. It struck me (as I listened to passages I had heard countless times) that Gardiner's insistence on pitch-perfect singing; his inventive phrasing; the choir's crystal-clear diction; and the careful balance of choir and orchestra made for an almost wholly novel experience of the work. Always in the vanguard of the period performance movement, the combined forces of both the Monteverdi Choir and the Revolutionary and Romantic Orchestra achieve an ideal balance in this recording: I have never heard its equal.

Surprises abound in Maestro Gardiner’s new interpretation. He takes the second movement at a quicker pace than is customary for this self-conscious funeral dirge. The text (translated from the German here) is certainly funerary in mood:

"For all flesh is as grass; and all the glory thereof as the flower of grass. The grass is withered, and the flower thereof is fallen away..."

Interestingly, the livelier-than-usual pace does nothing to detract from the expression of the funeral march; rather, it enhances it.

Baritone Matthew Brook performs admirably the restlessly passionate baritone solo parts, shining particularly in the declamatory "We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed; in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet." And lyric Soprano Katharine Fuge offers a tender, pitch-perfect rendition of the comforting text, "And ye now therefore have sorrow, but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice." (Brahms almost certainly chose this text and put it into the voice of a soprano soloist in honor of his own recently-deceased mother.) Ms. Fuge's exquisite treatment of this highly personal text provides one of the highlights of the recording.

Of course, the best known part of the piece—and the part most often performed as a stand-alone work--is the fourth movement, Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen ("How Lovely Are Your Dwelling-Places"). This section receives a fairly traditional treatment in an overall performance marked by interestingly unorthodox interpretations. Gardiner manages to craft a choral sound that is both lush and light--characteristics ideal for Wie lieblich.

I had the singularly good fortune to sing A German Requiem with Dr. Paul Traver's University of Maryland Chorus and The London Symphony at the Royal Albert Hall decades ago. As we sang the soaringly triumphant text, "O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?" I experienced the most profound ekstasis of my life. It was a true ecstasy, a standing outside oneself, a transcendent experience. Like the addict forever chasing the thrill of his first high, I have searched in vain for a repeat of that experience over the years since. I finally found it again this morning, listening to the Monteverdi Choir's triumphal declamation of the text. For that, I am deeply in Maestro Gardiner's debt.

But oh, what a disappointment when the final movement began!

The finale of Ein deutches Requiem is a setting of a text from the Book of Revelation. In German, it reads, Selig sind die Toten, die in dem Herrn sterben von nun an; in English, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from henceforth." It recalls the tender, gorgeous opening theme of the work, which sets a similar text--Selig sind, die da Leid tragen ("Blessed are those who mourn"). The poignancy of this recapitulation is exquisite in every recording of the work I've heard to date...except this one.

Part of the extraordinary serenity most conductors achieve in this final section of the piece lies in its slow, calm and measured performance. For some unfathomable reason, Gardiner takes the movement (marked Feierlich, or "Solemn") at an almost absurdly rapid clip. It was a shock, a deeply jarring experience after being happily lost in a Brahmsian soundworld for so long. After such a deeply moving rendering of the work up to that point, this seemingly indefensible interpretation registered almost as a betrayal.

The final unfortunate tempo choice notwithstanding, I would certainly recommend that all Brahms aficionados purchase this recording. But by all means also buy Gardiner's 1991 recording of the Requiem with the same two ensembles. Then create your own CD; with the opening through the penultimate movements from the new recording, followed by the finale from the 1991 reading. That will provide you, in my view, the best of all possible renderings of this monumental masterpiece of the German Romantic era. John Eliot Gardiner is a great artist!

Cheers,

WKF

"I've arrived and I am home,

In the here and now.

I am solid, I am free;

In the Ultimate I dwell."

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This is a gatha written by the Vietnamese Buddhist monk and Zen master Thich Nhat Hahn. The little four-line poem never grows old for me. I’m inspired by the idea that we “arrive” in each consecutive moment; that we can nurture a sense of “coming home” anywhere and anytime, simply through awareness of our breath. Our “home,” Nhat Hahn tells us, is the here and now—in the present moment, wherever we happen to be.
The line about being “solid” and “free” refer to his teaching on deep awareness of breathing (a contemporary elucidation of an ancient Buddhist text). When our minds are scattered and our thoughts diffuse, we are like the small branches at the top of a tree in a storm: we are blown every which way and feel as if we might be dislodged from our source of nourishment at any moment. But when we bring our minds and bodies together through conscious breathing, we are like the base of a tree: strong, solid and unmoved, our roots safe in the deep earth. Seeing ourselves as one with infinite space, we experience a transcendent sense of freedom.

The last line is about nurturing a sense of oneness with the sacred or transcendent. Nhat Hahn speaks of “the ultimate” and “the ultimate dimension” in the same way that a monotheist speaks of God. In fact, he equates mindfulness with the Holy Spirit—a concept some Christians and Buddhists would find shocking—but which resonates perfectly with me. To mindfully “dwell in the Ultimate” is a spiritual exercise not unlike the Centering Prayer endorsed by the Catholic Benedictine order in ancient times and re-popularized in the 1970s by Abbott Thomas Keating.

To use this gatha in meditation, inwardly say one line during your in-breath and the next on your out-breath. After ten to twenty minutes of mindful repetition of the gatha, you’ll find yourself opening to the sacred, centered in the ultimate, and deeply calmed.

A Freelance Writer's Reference Shelf

I realize that this guarantees me a place in the Nerd Hall of Fame for all time, but I often wonder what reference books other writers have on their desks, and how much of their collection overlaps with my own. For those of you who are interested in such minutia, here are the ones I keep within easy reach:

Writer's Market 2011 (Ed. Brewer)
The Merriam-Webster Dictionary
Roget's Desk Thesaurus
The Writer's Essential Desk Reference (Diemling et al)
The AP Stylebook and Briefing on Media Law (Ed. Christian et al)
The Complete Rhyming Dictionary (Ed. Wood)
Every Writer's Guide to Copyright and Publishing Law (Kozak)
The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations

Cheers,

WKF

It's Coming...

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

The Joys of Ghostwriting

Ah, the joy of being a ghostwriter. You spend months carrying a book to term, giving it the very best prenatal care you can. You try to take care of yourself so that your baby will turn out to be robust and healthy. Eventually, you laboriously give birth to that beautiful baby...only to have it snatched out of your hands and taken to live with someone else!

Naw, that's definitely not how I really see it. If I did, I certainly wouldn't continue doing it! Both from the client's view and mine, it makes perfect sense. She has a great idea for a book, but neither the time nor the inclination to do all the writing herself. So she contracts--for a respectable fee--the services of someone who writes for a living, and that individual does the heavy lifting. When the book is published and is successful, the client gets the credit. It's a perfectly equitable arrangement.

Of course, the downside for the ghostwriter is that, since you're writing as someone else (and have signed a confidentiality agreement), you can't point to the finished product and say, "That's my work." So if you want to work again, you'd better have plenty of good writing samples or articles published in your own name. Since you're a ghost, those samples are, in fact, the only proof that you can, in fact, write professionally!

Cheers,

William