Requiem in D minor, K.626 (1791)

For those of you who are classical music buffs, which I assume most of you are not, the Requiem in D minor, K.626 is the mysterious and final composition of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (written in 1791). K.626 is representative of the Requiem's place in the "Kochel-Verzeichnis," which is a complete and chronological catalogue of Mozart's works, making K.626 the 626th piece that Mozart composed. Released in 1862 by Ludwig von Kochel, Chronological - Thematic Catalogue of the Complete Musical Works of Wolfgang Amadé Mozart was a 551-page index of Mozart's works. But that's enough useful information for one blog...what is my point? How dare I write a 21st century internet-journal entry on a 216-year-old piece of music? We'll soon find out...

What makes the Requiem such an intriguing piece is the conspiracy that shrouds its composition and subsequent release in the years following Mozart's death. To make a long story short, Mozart was, sadly, a very poor man who was willing to write pieces for commissions even on his death bed. It is rumored (but unconfirmed) that while writing the Requiem, he was convinced that he was writing his Requiem (i.e. funeral march). The individual who commissioned the piece was none other than a mysterious cloaked stranger whose identity was concealed at the time, but is now known to be Count Franz von Walsegg-Stuppach who took credit for the piece in private performances. As Mozart lay dying and attempting to finish his final masterpiece, his limbs became too swollen to allow for movement, which included writing and playing. Therefore, his pupils Eybler and Sussmayr stepped in to finish his work. The problem with this, as many music scholars will attest, is that it is still unknown how much liberty his pupils (primarily Sussmayr because Eybler was a pussy and couldn't handle the pressure of following Mozart) took in finishing the piece. How much was intended by Mozart through notes and composition, how much was conveyed verbally in his final days, and how much Sussmayr created on his own will probably never be known.

I have seen the Requiem performed three times (London, Prague, and now New York), and I was honored enough to perform one movement, Lacrimosa (3rd movement, 6th part), with the Central Jersey II Regional Choir back in my high school days. This section of the piece naturally became my favorite, and it wasn't until the October 17th performance of Requiem by the London Symphony Orchestra that I learned Lacrimosa was the final section that Mozart wrote (only 8 bars, though the questions surrounding Sussmayr's knowledge of Mozart's intentions still remain) before he died the next morning.

Falling in love with the piece is easy. If any of you have the opportunity to download it for free or for any small sum of money it is very worth it. I know friends that have had deeply personal experiences just form listening to the piece, and I was even able to turn someone on to classical music using solely the Requiem (to start, at least).

So, here we are...tons of exposition and background information only to lead to my review of the LSO performance of the Requiem in D Minor on October 17th at Lincoln Center in New York City.

I was, suffice it to say, completely blown away. In London, I was underwhelmed by the Britishness of the direction, conducting, and overall delivery. In Prague, I was very satisfied by a beautiful and apropos performance. But, this time, I was overwhelmed by the passion of conductor Sir Colin Davis (in his 60th year of conducting), the perfection of the choir and soloists, and the intensity of the orchestra. Of course, Lacrimosa was the best part, but the attacks on the frantic second movement (Dies Irae) and some interesting directorial decisions throughout the piece really added new dynamics that I had never considered before. In Tuba Mirum, for example, Sir Colin provided the soloists with support by directing the piece to be played staccato rather than the typical legato. Even his most negligent and controversial choices, such as cutting the tempo of Domine Jesu, added to the variety and surprise in each movement that is so key in any performance of K.626.

If I never see the Requiem performed again, which I hope is not the case, I will be able to say that I saw one of the greatest conductors, orchestras, and choirs in the world do a master's final work the justice it deserves. That being said, the National Chorale will be performing the piece again at Lincoln Center in March...any takers?