Meet Joe Green
Words alone fail to serve up the big picture and convey the experience that was last evening's Verdi Requiem by the Singapore Symphony Orchestra. It would be redundant for me to continue then, but someone's got to do the dirty job.
Straight off the bat, let's lay the cards on the table and say that one was disappointed by the performance. But wait, lest you think otherwise, the disappointment was only because it was not "perfect" for a couple of weak links in an otherwise superlative performance with the best of all of the ingredients for a winning recipe.
There was that handful of smart-Alecky audience members who decided to applaud in the midst of the Sequenza, just as the "Salva me, fons pietatis" came to a head with the lower strings winding down. And it wasn't even a plausible or possible break, where the beautiful "Recordare, Jesu pie" was to follow. And it wasn't even after the cataclysmic "Dies irae" which might (should?) draw applause for the breathtaking spectacle.
Anyway, I'm sure the hackles on Maestro Lim Yau's back were raised just as everyone else present turned to do a Medusa in the general direction of the interruption, hoping for some brimstone and fire to smite the culprits down.
And what can we do about the tenor on duty, Dominic Natoli? Having started out sounding phlegmatic and muffled, he seemed to be having an off day, visibly uninvolved and audibly distracted. In what would be my favourite moment in the work, if not for the wealth of the rest of the material, the Ingemisco was desecrated by his poor form.
Not once, not twice, but three times did he fail to hold his top notes. Visibly and audibly stretched and taxed by the tessitura, it was almost embarrassing as he capped his losses by an artifice of his own devicing but which stuck out like a sore thumb. Rubato does not work this way. The void left in the musical fabric by the absence of his voice was an affront to his the ears. True to text, "guilty" and "blushing" he should be.
With these two flies in the ointment removed, one can now proceed to celebrate the genus of the work and the genius of the composer. This sold-out performance played to a full-house packed to the the rafters, with an augmented orchestra and a combined chorus
My guest for the evening had not been let in on the programme but later shared that when he saw the stage setting so to speak, he knew it was going to be something different. With a nine-year interval since the last airing at the 2001 Singapore Arts Festival, he realised why I "had to" come to this one-evening event. Thank God for the 30th Anniversary of the Singapore Symphony Chorus.
One's affections are divided between two of the soloists, soprano Soojin Moon and bass Alexander Vinogradov. The both sang from capital and interest, and had much to recommend in their individual contributions and readings of their parts.
It is hard not to want to like Vinogradov. On a superficial level, it was half the battle won with the Russian bass bearing some resemblance to and sharing some of the smouldering qualities of Simon Rex. And of course, he can sing too
And what a voice! I still get goosebumps replaying his highlights in my head and hearing that deep sonorous rendition replete with emotive projection. Loin-stirring is the most apt descriptor one can propose when applied to this vehicle.
Korean soprano Moon, a late replacement, proved to be a diamond in the rough. Standing out in her glacial jade-coloured gown and wrap with a necklace trailing invitingly down her cleavage and her hair in a conservative chignon, she delivered on potential and promise with a chilling show of form. At once crystalline clear and penetratively piercing, she sliced effortlessly through the orchestration.
Not to say she was a one-trick pony, for her floated pianissimi and messa di voce were masterclass examples. The petty peckish way she addressed the opening of the "Libera me" was a little mannered and contrived and seemed at odds with the strict disciplined articulation of the chorus. However, she plowed fearlessly through the fiendish material and came, sang and conquered. Seemingly tireless, by the end, her voice even acquired a burnished warmth which radiated, resonated and reverberated through the house.
Mezzo-soprano Simone Schroder was competent but forgettable. Unlike previous excursions where the mezzo has always bettered and stolen the thunder of the soprano, this time it was not to be. Hers was a timbre which was not supported well in the lower register where she could have made more of an impact and impression if she had belched the notes out. With her voice a wee bit too complementary to Moon's resulted in their duets coming across as washed-out. However, Schroder came into her own in the Lux aeterna, with a new-found plump plumminess.
And of the SSO? Well, they sure put on a good show. Saccharine sweet violins and soulful soaring celli were matched by effervescent woodwind (heard piccolo and flute highlights I never noticed before) and purposeful brass (all Hell breaks loose in the Dies irae). Lim Yau ran a tight ship and under his determined command and control, it was a resounding success.
A plebian appreciation of the work would be to gauge it by the in-your-face Dies irae where in this performance, Judgement Day was hair-raising. The offstage trumpets, positioned on high at Circle 2, provided the Dolby Surround Sound effect, with the onslaught coming left, right and centre. As brass blared and percussion pounded, the torrent of sound filled the heights and depths of the concert hall and had all on the edge of their seats in anticipation or thrown back in awe.
We finally come to the SSC. The star of the evening, no doubt. The precision and focus of the chorus was to be admired. Lim Yau could be seen cueing them in and singing along as he mouthed the words of the libretto, and the split-second response and reaction was spellbinding.
This was one performance where it was like Goldilocks put it, "just nice", where it wasn't too much or too little. You wouldn't take away anything from it but neither would you want to add anything to it.
Was the nine-year wait worth it? Oh, yes siree! I can't wait for the next one already!
Straight off the bat, let's lay the cards on the table and say that one was disappointed by the performance. But wait, lest you think otherwise, the disappointment was only because it was not "perfect" for a couple of weak links in an otherwise superlative performance with the best of all of the ingredients for a winning recipe.
There was that handful of smart-Alecky audience members who decided to applaud in the midst of the Sequenza, just as the "Salva me, fons pietatis" came to a head with the lower strings winding down. And it wasn't even a plausible or possible break, where the beautiful "Recordare, Jesu pie" was to follow. And it wasn't even after the cataclysmic "Dies irae" which might (should?) draw applause for the breathtaking spectacle.
Anyway, I'm sure the hackles on Maestro Lim Yau's back were raised just as everyone else present turned to do a Medusa in the general direction of the interruption, hoping for some brimstone and fire to smite the culprits down.
And what can we do about the tenor on duty, Dominic Natoli? Having started out sounding phlegmatic and muffled, he seemed to be having an off day, visibly uninvolved and audibly distracted. In what would be my favourite moment in the work, if not for the wealth of the rest of the material, the Ingemisco was desecrated by his poor form.
Not once, not twice, but three times did he fail to hold his top notes. Visibly and audibly stretched and taxed by the tessitura, it was almost embarrassing as he capped his losses by an artifice of his own devicing but which stuck out like a sore thumb. Rubato does not work this way. The void left in the musical fabric by the absence of his voice was an affront to his the ears. True to text, "guilty" and "blushing" he should be.
With these two flies in the ointment removed, one can now proceed to celebrate the genus of the work and the genius of the composer. This sold-out performance played to a full-house packed to the the rafters, with an augmented orchestra and a combined chorus
My guest for the evening had not been let in on the programme but later shared that when he saw the stage setting so to speak, he knew it was going to be something different. With a nine-year interval since the last airing at the 2001 Singapore Arts Festival, he realised why I "had to" come to this one-evening event. Thank God for the 30th Anniversary of the Singapore Symphony Chorus.
One's affections are divided between two of the soloists, soprano Soojin Moon and bass Alexander Vinogradov. The both sang from capital and interest, and had much to recommend in their individual contributions and readings of their parts.
It is hard not to want to like Vinogradov. On a superficial level, it was half the battle won with the Russian bass bearing some resemblance to and sharing some of the smouldering qualities of Simon Rex. And of course, he can sing too
And what a voice! I still get goosebumps replaying his highlights in my head and hearing that deep sonorous rendition replete with emotive projection. Loin-stirring is the most apt descriptor one can propose when applied to this vehicle.
Korean soprano Moon, a late replacement, proved to be a diamond in the rough. Standing out in her glacial jade-coloured gown and wrap with a necklace trailing invitingly down her cleavage and her hair in a conservative chignon, she delivered on potential and promise with a chilling show of form. At once crystalline clear and penetratively piercing, she sliced effortlessly through the orchestration.
Not to say she was a one-trick pony, for her floated pianissimi and messa di voce were masterclass examples. The petty peckish way she addressed the opening of the "Libera me" was a little mannered and contrived and seemed at odds with the strict disciplined articulation of the chorus. However, she plowed fearlessly through the fiendish material and came, sang and conquered. Seemingly tireless, by the end, her voice even acquired a burnished warmth which radiated, resonated and reverberated through the house.
Mezzo-soprano Simone Schroder was competent but forgettable. Unlike previous excursions where the mezzo has always bettered and stolen the thunder of the soprano, this time it was not to be. Hers was a timbre which was not supported well in the lower register where she could have made more of an impact and impression if she had belched the notes out. With her voice a wee bit too complementary to Moon's resulted in their duets coming across as washed-out. However, Schroder came into her own in the Lux aeterna, with a new-found plump plumminess.
And of the SSO? Well, they sure put on a good show. Saccharine sweet violins and soulful soaring celli were matched by effervescent woodwind (heard piccolo and flute highlights I never noticed before) and purposeful brass (all Hell breaks loose in the Dies irae). Lim Yau ran a tight ship and under his determined command and control, it was a resounding success.
A plebian appreciation of the work would be to gauge it by the in-your-face Dies irae where in this performance, Judgement Day was hair-raising. The offstage trumpets, positioned on high at Circle 2, provided the Dolby Surround Sound effect, with the onslaught coming left, right and centre. As brass blared and percussion pounded, the torrent of sound filled the heights and depths of the concert hall and had all on the edge of their seats in anticipation or thrown back in awe.
We finally come to the SSC. The star of the evening, no doubt. The precision and focus of the chorus was to be admired. Lim Yau could be seen cueing them in and singing along as he mouthed the words of the libretto, and the split-second response and reaction was spellbinding.
This was one performance where it was like Goldilocks put it, "just nice", where it wasn't too much or too little. You wouldn't take away anything from it but neither would you want to add anything to it.
Was the nine-year wait worth it? Oh, yes siree! I can't wait for the next one already!