Raising the Bar for Verdi

On a recent Saturday night, the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra graced Stern Auditorium in a concert of Verdi's Requiem. New Yorkers gave musical director Robert Spano a warm welcome as he assumed the podium for what was to be a thrilling performance. Spano, 44, had led the Brooklyn Philharmonic for eight years before going down south five years ago. Judging by the orchestral and choral firework at Carnegie, the symbiosis between maestro and musicians is working beautifully. Here we have a case of a young, energetic conductor raising the bar for a second-rate orchestra. Mr. Spano brings to mind other fortuitous pairings between struggling orchestras and young dynamic conductors, such as MTT and the SFO and, more recently, David Robertson and the SLSO.

Verdi's requiem is a searing, operatic 75-minute-long work that shares little with the other contributions to the genre of Mozart, Faure and Berlioz. Indeed, there is a very overtly dramatic flavor that doesn't sit well with other works of the genre. For although Verdi chose the Latin mass as his setting, his requiem is not so much a devotional work as it is a riveting nationalistic musical drama.

Spano opened the work with violins, cellos and chorus in a marvelously effective and otherworldly whisper that had the unfortunate effect of leaving the music susceptible to being marred some consumptive Atlantans in the audience. But amidst the coughs, the women of the chorus and the  strings carried along the flickering melody. For the Kyrie, the tenor Frank Lopardo entered with a booming, heroic tenor. The electric soloists remained easily audible with a wall of sound – the absolutely massive chorus – in back of them.

The Dies Irae was a dynamic, unabashed display of extravagance and fire. The blazing chorus – menacing, tempestuous and unrelenting - was easily heard above the energetic musicians. The percussion was dead-on and piercingly powerful. The victorious trumpets built to a thrilling climax in their call-and–response. Invested both emotionally and physically Spano led the ferocious and well-trained ensemble. In his solo, bass Greer Grimsley was direct and precise if a bit stiff. Mezzo Stephanie Blythe stayed her ground well, backed up by the determined chorus. She let out a big, gorgeous sound rather effortlessly even in her lower register in a thoroughly dramatic performance. While on the whole capable and robust, Lopardo could be hard to hear next to the female soloists, including the soprano Andrea Gruber. The two women struck a good balance together. Even without the support of the orchestra they seemed to have enough texture and stamina to carry the performance. Their duets, however, could've done with a little less diva flair. Since the entire force seemed to operate at such a consistently frenzied level, it seemed a miracle that everyone was so clearly audible; I suspect that some audience members needed to turn their hearing aids down. Blythe especially could've managed to go a few notches lower in the more lyrical moments of "recordare Jesu pie." Lopardo struck a sour note transitioning from a soft quiver to a full-bodied heroic tenor at the beginning of his lengthy solo, "Ingemisco tanquam reus" which would have benefited from a bit more flair. Grimsley was far better at breathing fire. He sang the "confutatis" with a menacing boom worthy of Scarpia. In the Offertorium, Gruber entered with an exquisite, sustained long note. The Sanctus was an opportunity for the chorus to shine. The Angus Dei, with its resemblance to Nabucco was memorable, a stately, quiet moment in the midst of all these fireworks. In the final movement, Libre Me Gruber sang with Wagnerian flair and the chorus responded in a whisper. She sang slow and careful and her high notes rang out with force and transfixing power. She navigated her way through the tempestuous waters as easily as wading through a stream and ended on an unexpected note of understatement.