San Francisco Classical Voice

In charge of these forces was the estimable Kurt Masur, lately of the New York Philharmonic (now Music Director of the Orchestre National de France), who must assume responsibility for the disappointing results. Conducting without baton (with the soloists at the back, nestled behind the chamber orchestra), Masur led a listless performance that was more tentative than ominous, more understated than eloquent. A particular surprise was the only half-hearted inspiration he was able to instill in the normally excellent Symphony Chorus. This was not their finest hour, although Masur did evoke some truly marvelous pianissimi from them.

The solemn opening began well enough, with the large chorus chanting its hushed “Requiem” with precision if not urgency, but the orchestra's repeated Scotch snap motive had little energy. In contrast, the “Et lux perpetua” seemed almost angry. The dark “Dies irae” (Day of Wrath) was lacking in urgency and bite at the onset, although the brass were nicely crisp and articulated. The later reprise of “Dies irae” finally succeeded in conjuring up the potent vision of terror inherent in the music. (This movement, said to be inspired by Verdi's Requiem, owes an equal debt to Carl Orff's Carmina Burana for its short-breathed choral incantations in unison.). The “Pie Jesu Domine” sounded muffled rather than hushed, but the chorus came alive with marvelous free-chanted babble in “Pleni sunt caeli.” The brittle fugue on “Quam olim Abrahae" began slightly under-sung but rose to a grand climax.

The children — the combined forces of the San Francisco Girls Chorus, directed by Susan McMane, and Kevin Fox's Pacific Boychoir — were situated high at the back of the auditorium and came through sounding intermittent, with their melodic lines fragmented and their tone strangulated. One had the impression they were trying to sing too softly from too close at hand.

Soprano Christine Brewer was the standout among the soloists, bringing gorgeous vocal luster and richness to lines that soared out over the orchestra. In the “Lacrimosa” she fully inhabited her phrases with convincing determination, her voice eloquent in Britten's drooping phrases. The “Libera me” found Brewer effortlessly pulling off the high C, while the underlying chorus sounded labored and imprecise. In the “Liber Scriptus” she lent a clarion sense of drama to the vision of Judgment Day, unfortunately displayed against a grayish choral background.

The two male soloists seemed at a disadvantage with their placement behind the orchestra, though they used admirable effort to project. Tenor Jerry Hadley seemed in good form, singing with assurance and dramatic conviction, superbly enunciating the bitter-flavored poetry. He sang the heartbreaking “Move him into the sun” with rhetorical impact but with little irony in his voice. Especially in the “Agnus Dei,” he found it hard to resist crooning on the upward rising melodic lines.

Baritone William Stone sounded a bit dry and lacking in resonance in the lower register despite his fine diction. He achieved a nicely focussed tone with “Be slowly lifted up,” an ironic invocation to the cannons of war. The two men were not evenly matched in their cynical duet about Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac, with their unisons not quite in agreement. Still, there was no denying the impact of their repeated outcries about the slaying of “half the seed of Europe, one by one,” repeatedly interrupting and contradicting the children's innocent hymn of praise.

The chamber orchestra was ably conducted by Edwin Outwater, the Symphony's new Resident Conductor, although it was peculiar to see him pop up from his position near the back of the violins to conduct this orchestra-within-an-orchestra. With Masur standing on the podium just a few feet away, it seemed questionable whether a second conductor was really necessary. Perhaps Masur was just taking it easy. It showed.