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  40:6 (07-08 /2017)
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Ricercar 
RIC368




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Reviewer: Barry Brenesal
 

Jérôme Lejeune’s liner notes pose a very interesting question: What were the probable models Mozart kept in mind when he started work on his Requiem? We know that he was obsessed with making it big in one particular city, Vienna; and we know that, towards the end of his life, one of the audiences he cultivated was comprised of aristocrats and wealthy burghers who looked to the Baroque for a more complex and expressive musical experience. The instrumental colors and richly contrapuntal textures Mozart deployed in his Requiem have their potential parallels in ones composed in Vienna a century earlier. Lejeune writes, “While Mozart’s Requiem seems to open the door to Romanticism…[he] also never seemed so close to the past.” Certainly not on a large scale, (though I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss that remarkable miniature, Eine kleine Gigue). Whether those Requiems of Kerll and Fux were in his mind while writing it—and the Fux in particular might well have been, as a copy of Fux’s once popular Gradus ad Parnassum survives from among Mozart’s effects, with numerous notes in his hand—theirs are two fine works that might have inspired him.
 

The Requiem of Johann Caspar Kerll (1627–1693) is a work in seven movements. The Sequenza of 15 mini-movements emphasizes soloists in simpler, slimmed-down textures, with instrumentals taking on an important role; while the other movements typically alternate soloists and choir in a densely imitative, expressive fabric. Moments of emotional intensity abound for those who seek them: the sudden massed chords at the repeated Exaudi in the Introitus, for example, and the balm of the recurring cadential sequence on requiem in the later half of the Agnus Dei. Personally, I’m much taken by the slowly unwinding imitative points of the Offertorium, with their unpredictable movement between major and minor—something which is mirrored in the concluding Lux Aeterna, when the bright major chords in syllabic setting on in aeternam shift to an augmented, melismatic, and chromatic setting of quia pius es. This is a sacred work of masterful technique and moving eloquence that deserves to be recorded more than is customarily the case.
 

The Requiem of Johann Joseph Fux (1660–1741), by contrast, was composed for a specific event: the funeral of Eleonor Magdalene of Neuburg, wife of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I. (The liner notes are in error on this point, confusing Eleonor Magdalene with her stepmother-in-law, Eleonora Gonzaga.) Unlike Kerll’s emphasis on somewhat darker colors, with five soloists of whom two are tenors, Fux doubles up on sopranos. The magnificence of Kerll’s Introitus is replaced by an intimate unfolding of duets and trios, with pared down organ accompaniment. A work in what Fux termed his stylus mixtus, it takes the concept of a concertante Requiem further than Kerll did, and deftly plays off smaller groupings against a heavier ripieno, as well as a trio of strings: two violins and one viola. The Sequenza maintains a single key throughout, again unlike Kerll’s, though Fux is far more apt to move chromatically to distant harmonic territory within any given mini-movement (Mors stupebit, Quaerens me). Again, where Kerll places greater emphasis on choral counterpoint outside his Sequenza, Fux does the reverse.
 

The performances are strong. While I might take exception to the occasional slide-quickly-into-pitch of Vox Luminus’s sopranos, and the middling chest support of one of the basses, their control, balance, and sound as a group are impressive. L’Achéron, whom I greatly enjoyed in their recordings of Scheidt’s Ludi Musici (Ricercar 360; Fanfare 39:5) and Johann Bernhard Bach’s Ouvertures (Ricercar 373; Fanfare 40:4), are just as warmly intimate, here. The Scorpio Collectief, a 10-person broken ensemble of strings, bassoon, loud instruments, and organ, provide an imposing presence in both works, minus any of the gaffes all too common when handling that tricky instrument, the sackbut. Lionel Meunier (who is also one of Vox Luminis’s basses) directs with clarity, a sense of forward movement, and a refined feeling for dynamics and phrasing.

Both these works, and especially the Kerll, are worthy enough to command attention whether they influenced Mozart’s conception of his Requiem, or not. In excellent sound, this album is definitely recommended.


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