Review
Beethoven - Missa Solemnis
Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment conducted by Gianandrea Noseda
Royal Festival Hall, London, 4 November 2011
05 / 11 / 2011
Missa Solemnis - Beethoven
Anne Ellersiek - soprano
Michaela Wehrum-Gandenberger - alto
Mark Adler - tenor
Patrick Schramm - bass
Philharmonia Chorus
Chorus Master - Stefan Bevier
Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment
conducted by Gianandrea Noseda
Royal Festival Hall, London
4 November 2011
Words cannot do justice to the greatness of Beethoven’s Missa solemnis, or its (potentially) transporting qualities. There was much to admire in this OAE performance with a very animated Gianandrea Noseda conducting. He had the advantage of the Philharmonia Chorus, astonishing here, its members fearless – sopranos especially unflinching – in meeting Beethoven’s cruel if life-enhancing demands. Chorus-master Stefan Bevier appears to working considerable wonders; the Handelian Heaven-reaching unisons were thrilling and remarkably unanimous, with quiet passages communally inward. That said, choral personnel were too many in relation to the OAE, despite it being at its largest: the many fortissimos found singers outgunning players, strings particularly usurped. And the chamber organ was simply inaudible; not one note was heard or felt. Solo singers – ideally positioned between orchestra and chorus (this is not a work for ‘stars’) – carried effortlessly, the men the more reliable and characterful.
Noseda’s 71-minute performance – ‘authentic’ in flowing tempos, the opening ‘Kyrie’ (with two different pronunciations) unforced, sometimes solemn, sometimes lilting – didn’t always take wing, for although the ‘Gloria’ was exhilarating at this speed, and commendably disciplined, there was also something relentlessly earthbound about it. For all the light and shade, and dynamic contrasts, the ‘Credo’ also had its hyper side, yet Noseda found deep contemplation in the Palestrina-like episodes, in which Beethoven seems to commune with music even then a couple of centuries old. It was these ‘secret’ sections that held the greatest thrall (although Noseda’s operatic instincts left the altar far behind, too), so such moments as the violin solo in the ‘Benedictus’ were rapt, especially in Matthew Truscott’s silver-toned, delicately traced contribution; save he didn’t need to stand, for the music’s focal points should be its expression and sound, and there is much else, however subtle, from voices and other instruments also being weaved at this point.
That were other highpoints, the distinctiveness of the winds and brass and their impeccable collegiate balance; the strings too, when they could be properly heard – the violas and cellos made a sovereign contribution, and Charles Fullbrook’s timpani-playing was crisp and rounded, and dramatic when required.
What was less than edifying was some in the audience (few in number admittedly, but enough), those who whisper unengaged with what is before them, shuffle bags and coats, applaud mindlessly when Beethoven’s paeans of praise and depth of utterance requires only reflection, cough loudly, and leave their mobiles on – thus a faint ringing followed Truscott’s last ethereal note, and – the ultimate irony – the choir’s final plea for peace (after some vivid warlike trumpets and drums, “pacem” here pronounced “pasem” rather than “pachem”) had its silent aftermath intruded upon in the same way.
So, some airbrushing will be needed when the recording is issued on Signum (as it presumably will be) – continuing the OAE’s new association with the label – although the festoon of microphones hopefully will not dictate much post-production mixing or added reverb, for (the one reservation aside), this was a naturally and beautifully balanced performance clearly sounded in this particular acoustic that was alive and profound at every turn, musicians coming together under a vibrant conductor to share one of the most spellbinding of musical creations – from the heart to the heart and with food for thought.
Colin Anderson, www.classicalsource.com, 5 November 2011
How should one feel after a performance of Beethoven's Missa Solemnis? Elated at the memory of the jubilant Gloria? Uneasy at the disquiet of the Agnus Dei, and the way in which the choir seems to finish on an unresolved question? Or, strangely, consoled at the fact that the composer of the first and the second are the same man – that someone who can express such certainty can also be riven with doubt, just like any imperfect human?
After this, the first collaboration between Gianandrea Noseda and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, all three impressions lingered; indeed, it was a moving performance that asked more questions than it answered, which is how this work should be heard. The Philharmonia Chorus brought musicality, assurance and sheer stamina to what must be one of the most gruelling sings in their repertoire. The quartet of vocal soloists, imported from Germany, were not consistently assets, but all apart from the woolly sounding bass had moments of soaring clarity.
Noseda seems a perfect fit with the OAE; here, he took an ensemble that at its best is electrified, and turned up the voltage to sparking point. The tenderness with which he shaped passages such as the opening Kyrie found its counterweight in furiously dynamic allegros. Yet, while at 85 minutes this was a brisk performance, the impression it left was not one of hurtling speed, but of energy, of shifting colours and responsiveness to Beethoven's detailed and evocative orchestral writing.
The performance was dedicated to the memory of Charles Mackerras, a much-missed conductor of both chorus and orchestra, and no stranger himself to taking the musical bull that is Beethoven by the horns. He would have been proud.
Erica Jeal
Guardian, 7 November 2011
To complete this unofficial Beethoven-fest, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment performed the Missa Solemnis, vividly conducted by Gianandrea Noseda and gloriously sung by the Philharmonia Chorus. With the Leipzigers' ninth still in our ears, the delicate, reedy sound of the OAE's period instruments could hardly have been more different: almost whispered and misty, yet intense and urgent. It was as if a whole era of performance history had been reenacted in a matter of days: all rightly and justly in the service of Beethoven.
Fiona Maddocks
The Observer, 13 November 2011
