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Editorial Reviews
MusicWeb International, Dan Morgan, May 2009
When I first heard Bernstein's Mass it was less than a decade old, and already it seemed dated. I wasn't much impressed at the time, although I'm pleased to say Mass and Chichester Psalms are now the Bernstein works I enjoy most; for me both have a naive charm that is unmistakably Lenny. Some listeners are much less charitable, describing Mass as either toe-curling or just plain trash, even though it's blessed with music of genuine emotional weight and inspiration. These qualities are not necessarily obvious in Bernstein's own recording for CBS/Sony, recently released as part of the Bernstein Century series (SM2K 63089). Kent Nagano's Harmonia Mundi set (HM 801840) is certainly most welcome, especially as it is a hybrid SACD, but that isn't wholly satisfying either.
Commissioned by Jacqueline Kennedy to commemorate the opening of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington DC, Mass is recorded here by Austrian groups under Kristjan Järvi. Rob Barnett was much impressed with this conductor's set of Schmidt's Das Buch mit sieben Siegeln - see review - but I was more curious to hear how these non-English-speaking forces would cope with such a quintessentially American score.
The Celebrant in Bernstein's own recording is the light baritone Alan Titus, whose boyish good looks seemed entirely right for the piece. Järvi's Celebrant is the darker, more commanding Randall Scarlata, who bears a passing resemblance to the late British actor Donald Pleasence. Not quite the youthful presence one might expect, but his first entry in the Hymn and Psalm dispels any doubts about his suitability for the part.
This `Simple Song' with its artless guitar chords has a certain gravitas that's every bit as appealing as Titus's more naive approach for Bernstein. In fact, from the very outset one senses that Järvi takes a serious view of this work, the instrumental soloists, singers and orchestral players commendably focused throughout.
The Responsory: Alleluia (tr. 3) is the first of the work's pre-recorded-tape segments and very effective it is too. The vocalists meld beautifully with the music's jazzy syncopations, and even if Bernstein's is the more sprightly reading Järvi's is much more insightful in terms of detail and texture. Indeed, the latter makes this music sound newly minted, bringing out the many fine qualities of Bernstein's writing. If anything the composer doesn't always do justice to his own score; also, the CBS sound is a little rough and variably balanced, the recessed `ping-pong stereophony' of the opening Antiphon sounding very contrived. By comparison the Chandos engineers have come up with a convincing soundstage and a warm, vibrant acoustic that gives the music a lovely inner glow.
Even at this early stage it's clear that Järvi has transformed Mass from a piece of seventies tat into something much more substantial and less time-bound. Those who cringe at Bernstein's own reading will surely respond to this more symphonic reading. I certainly found myself revelling in details and rhythms as yet only hinted at, marvelling also at the coherence of Bernstein's hastily assembled creation. Yes, the Alleluias are heavily accented but goodness, the Ivesian rumty-tumty of the First Introit (tr. 4) has never sounded so uproarious.
Perhaps the Austrian oompah-pah tradition is the secret ingredient here, the Company of Music (the Street Chorus) and Tölz boys in fine form as well. Surely even the ever-critical Bernstein would have been captivated by the verve of this performance.
At this point I'd pretty much given up comparing the two recordings, such are the musical virtues and sonic splendours of this Chandos account. Scarlata and the boys' choir are incisive and alert in the Thrice-Triple Canon: Dominus vobiscum (tr. 5) and the restless bongos of In nomine Patris (another taped segment) are judged to perfection. The Tölz boys and the Chorus sine nomine are particularly affecting in the supplicatory Prayer for the Congregation (tr. 7). One would have to be stony hearted not to be moved by this gentlest of utterances, so feelingly voiced. After the bird-like oboe solo in the Epiphany (tr. 8) the Celebrant's call to confession (tr. 9) has some strongly rhythmic singing from Chorus sine nomine and a moody electric bass line.
The balance between acoustic and electric instruments is a real challenge in Mass, but here it's very well managed, the funky trope `I Don't Know' stylishly sung by `rock singers' Reinwald Kranner and Dave Moskin. This kind of pointedly `hip' interjection is very risky indeed - cue more shudders from the critics - but if anyone can bring it off Lenny can. Meanwhile the bluesy trope `Easy' (tr. 11) reminds me of Hair, another of those iconic shows from the period, albeit with the brazenness and Berlin accents of Cabaret. What a contrast with the symphonic Meditation No. 1 (tr. 12), with its agitated, Shostakovich-like string figures. There is real darkness and doubt in Mass and it lurks here too, although the radiant violin solos do manage to pierce the pervading gloom.
This new optimism is echoed in the vigorous Gloria tibi (tr. 13). Gloria in excelsis (tr. 14) is surely modelled on the spring-loaded rhythms of Poulenc's Gloria, with a dash of West Side Story added to `Half of the People' (tr. 15). Incredibly for players who aren't familiar with this music they inject an idiomatic, Jet-like swagger to the start of `Thank You', movingly sung by soprano Ruth Kraus. Again doubts surface in the Mahlerian Meditation No. 2, the cello soloist assailed by menacing interjections from the orchestra. In spite of that the simple solo line outlasts them all, bringing the first disc to a warmly expressive close.
For all its shortcomings Bernstein's recording will always have a special one. It's a unique reflection of the prevailing zeitgeist, and for that reason alone it deserves a place on your shelves. Järvi's reading is altogether more thoughtful, a mature, 21st-century take on the fading flower culture of the early seventies. We readily accept that performing styles change in other genres, so it's entirely appropriate that we have a new - and refreshing - perspective on Mass as well.
Scarlata opens disc two with an arresting Epistle. Even `Dear Mom and Dad' has added resonance, a new urgency, in an uncertain world, and once again Järvi responds with great sensitivity to the demands of the score. Anyone who doubts the ability of European performers to get to the heart of this piece of Americana should sample the upbeat Gospel-Sermon `God Said' (tr. 2). I was simply astonished by the choruses' ability to capture the rafter-ringing revivalism of this great number. Järvi and his musicians really seem to believe in this score, and of course belief - in the form of the Credo - lies at the very heart of the Mass. Typically, Bernstein contrasts this pre-recorded segment with its polar opposite, `Non Credo`. André Bauer is the fine baritone soloist here, and the pre-recorded Crucifixus will surely bring back memories of the rock-opera Jesus Christ Superstar. There's a bit of everything here, but then that's what Bernstein does best; he is a great assimilator.
The mezzo Heldemaria Gruber makes the most of the trope `Hurry' (tr. 5), although her words aren't very clear. Ruth Kraus enters the fray in `World without End' (tr. 6), which teeters on the brink of musical anarchy. Then there is a torrent of Janáèek-like `Amens' at the start of `I Believe in God' (tr. 7), in which Moskin - and just about everybody else - come perilously close to bringing the temple crashing down around them. The Chandos engineers cope admirably with all this controlled chaos; indeed, the recording sounds exceptional in both its CD and two-channel SACD forms. I imagine it would sound even more spectacular in its multi-channel guise.
The Celebrant's stern invocation `Let us pray' is met with an equally forceful response from the players in Meditation No. 3 (tr. 8) and elicits some transported singing from Chorus sine nomine. Scarlata's heartfelt prayer 'Remember, O Lord, thou servants and handmaids' - intoned over a sustained organ note - embraces performers and conductor; it's a touching moment that can so easily descend into bathos, yet here it's carried off with great conviction. The Tölz boys and Chorus sine nomine blaze their way through the Orffian Offertory (tr. 9) before we hear The Lord's Prayer (tr. 10), sung and picked out on the piano by the Celebrant. It's another of those potentially shudder-inducing moments that actually works very well. Scarlata then tops that with a melting rendition of `I Go On'. At this point I admit I was ready to jump up and applaud.
We move into the bright tones of the treble-dominated Sanctus (tr. 12) with its twangy interlude for electric guitar, part for counter-tenor and the usual Orffian ostinati. It's a truly bizarre confection but, as usual, Bernstein seems to make a decent recipe out of these disparate ingredients. Goodness, these drums would make the Telarc engineers green with envy; and the sheer oomph of the Agnus Dei (tr. 13) will take your breath away; Indeed, I wondered if Järvi and his musicians could wring any more volume or intensity from this wild, wild apotheosis.
The somewhat surreal sprechgesang-like `Fraction: Things Get Broken' (tr. 14) comes as a welcome respite after all that unbridled power. Once again Scarlata impresses with his extraordinary vocal range and colour palette, not to mention his ability to traverse so many different singing styles. In this, one of the longest and most sustained sections of Mass. Bernstein's melodic gifts are arrayed for all to see; remarkably, though, it's Järvi, not the composer, who shows them off to best advantage.
Despite all the conductor's insights it's Scarlata who makes this performance come alive. By comparison Titus sounds like a lightweight, lacking in character or feeling. Just listen to how Scaralata conveys exhaustion and despair in this penultimate - and very demanding - section. And savour those harps, soft pillows of sound on which the Celebrant can rest his weary head. Hugely theatrical, but as with all such gestures they are highly effective when handled with such sensitivity and good judgment. And the final section, with its treble solo, will surely bring back memories of Chichester Psalms. Boy soprano Georg Drexel is very affecting here - far preferable to the rather winsome soloist in Lenny's recording - as is the solo flute of Sonja Korak. There is a real sense of repose here, framed by harps and vocalists. Drexel returns at the close, his pure tones entwined with those of the more worldly Celebrant. v As a convert I exhort all those who don't believe in Mass to buy this recording and recant. I didn't expect to be as moved and thrilled by this performance as I was; indeed, it sets new standards for this most underrated work, both musically and sonically. Add to all these virtues a chunky, well-written booklet - including texts - and you have the makings of a modern classic
OK, I'm a traditional Catholic, and I go to the Tridentine Mass, so you can't expect me to kiss this piece. But I'm sorry, Bernstein's anarchic "Mass"--with its guitars, Latin pop rhythms and blasphemous outbursts--strikes me as dated and silly. I do not think Bernstein set out to denigrate the Mass. His music makes it pretty clear, though, that he had no idea of what this ancient ritual is about (trust me, if you could get your mind around even a tenth of it, it would frighten you far more than all his clanging and clattering).
The liner notes are condescending and just plain wrong. After telling us "not all Catholic clergy were unenlightened" (translation: not all of them disliked this piece) they go on to cite the praise of an Episcopal bishop, misidentifying him as Catholic. On the plus side, this performance is so meticulous and goofily sincere that it almost makes me nostalgic for the folk Masses I remember from grade school. Almost.
One of the happier outcomes of the recent Big Bernstein Bash, celebrating what would have been the maestro's 90th birthday, was a new respect for his Mass, a piece few have known quite what to think about, or do with, since its 1971 premiere, when it served as the gala for the opening of the Kennedy Center. Anyone with the column inches to do more than review recent concerts took the opportunity to weigh in on the piece, almost always to the much-bad-mouthed work's advantage. So it's fitting that the celebration ends with the release of the best recording of Mass to date (Chandos), by mostly Austrian forces under the savvy leadership of Kristjan Jarvi, whom you can't help thinking Lenny would have approved of in every way.
With a new bilingual production of West Side Story, now generally acknowledged as Bernstein's greatest achievement, just having opened on Broadway (with the Puerto Rican characters speaking their lines and singing some of the show's major hit tunes in Spanish), now's the time for this ultra-American music to spread its big, embracing wings. Occasionally on this infectiously wonderful new recording of Mass , the choristers and vocal soloists can give the impression that the Vienna Choir Boys have missed their connection at Grand Central. But Jarvi (yet another remarkable conductor son of Neeme Jarvi) has such a sure grasp of the piece's jumble of musical styles that the performance he gets from the Tonkunstler-Orchester, the Absolute Ensemble and a trio of choruses is truly idiomatic. You'd never suspect that Randall Scarlata, in the central role of the Mass' Celebrant, is Austrian. Hearing Mass leap the Atlantic that agilely is more than just testimony to its universality. It speaks to its quality.
Clearly influenced by the War Requiem of Benjamin Britten - the American premiere of whose Peter Grimes Bernstein conducted at Tanglewood when he was barely out of short pants - Bernstein's Mass blends the standard Latin Mass text with shards of Hebrew and a larger smattering of English texts by Stephen Schwartz and, for better and worse, the hyperverbal, omnisexual Bernstein.
Comparatively, the music is a veritable Tower of Babel, with Broadway, gospel, jazz, blues and other idioms not merely intermingled but positively tumbling out of and into one another.
The work's enormous embrace - its 70s, love-the-one-you're-with universalism - has always been the biggest impediment to a completely satisfying performance of the work. The likelihood of anyone's finding all the music engaging, or for that matter even convincing, is small, and passages that feel uplifting and "right on" one day may strike the same listener as shockingly inept, glib, or distasteful the next.
If Bernstein's Mass seems less dated than it has for the last four decades and more, look no farther than the timing of its re-emergence for an explanation. If its politics sometimes seem poster-ish, they match the tenor of those late, dark days of the Vietnam War and the Nixon Presidency, when the sense of the horror of it all no longer needed inflection. The words of the Paul Simon quatrain that Bernstein threw into the stew would be as apt for the Iraq War and the Bush administration: "Half the people are stoned/ And the other half are waiting for the next election." Sound familiar?
By the time of Mass, Bernstein's wrestling with the Divine had lightened considerably since the tortured doubt and protest of his 1963 'Kaddish' Symphony (completed the day of the assassination of JFK, a personal friend, whom Bernstein was remembering in his Catholic-ish Mass to open Kennedy Center). But if in Mass Bernstein meant the words of the "Simple Song" that frame the composition, "Sing like you like to sing./ God loves all simple things,/ For God is the simplest of all," he had become, if not the raging, tormented agnostic, the self-pitying, tormented Celebrant.
Mass is beyond any doubt a show, and the show is beyond any doubt about Lenny. He's railing about the impossibility of fulfilling the expectations people have of him as the apostle of music itself - expectations he himself created and, despite his lacerating self-doubt, magnificently fulfilled.
Bernstein composed his Mass at an historical juncture when Black Power and Student Power were, at least temporarily, passing the torch to Gay Liberation, not coincidentally at the core of his own personal work, and suffering, at the time. Is it any surprise that he acted it out in a Broadway-style show with a St. Sebastian figure at its heart?
Bernstein's contributions to the show were the music and the words, which can be easier to see whole in an audio-only version. In one as bracing as Jarvi's, it can seem as if nothing is missing.
Commissioned by Jacqueline Kennedy to commemorate the opening of the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington DC, Mass is recorded here by Austrian groups under Kristjan Järvi. Rob Barnett was much impressed with this conductor's set of Schmidt's Das Buch mit sieben Siegeln - see review - but I was more curious to hear how these non-English-speaking forces would cope with such a quintessentially American score.
The Celebrant in Bernstein's own recording is the light baritone Alan Titus, whose boyish good looks seemed entirely right for the piece. Järvi's Celebrant is the darker, more commanding Randall Scarlata, who bears a passing resemblance to the late British actor Donald Pleasence. Not quite the youthful presence one might expect, but his first entry in the Hymn and Psalm dispels any doubts about his suitability for the part.
This `Simple Song' with its artless guitar chords has a certain gravitas that's every bit as appealing as Titus's more naive approach for Bernstein. In fact, from the very outset one senses that Järvi takes a serious view of this work, the instrumental soloists, singers and orchestral players commendably focused throughout.
The Responsory: Alleluia (tr. 3) is the first of the work's pre-recorded-tape segments and very effective it is too. The vocalists meld beautifully with the music's jazzy syncopations, and even if Bernstein's is the more sprightly reading Järvi's is much more insightful in terms of detail and texture. Indeed, the latter makes this music sound newly minted, bringing out the many fine qualities of Bernstein's writing. If anything the composer doesn't always do justice to his own score; also, the CBS sound is a little rough and variably balanced, the recessed `ping-pong stereophony' of the opening Antiphon sounding very contrived. By comparison the Chandos engineers have come up with a convincing soundstage and a warm, vibrant acoustic that gives the music a lovely inner glow.
Even at this early stage it's clear that Järvi has transformed Mass from a piece of seventies tat into something much more substantial and less time-bound. Those who cringe at Bernstein's own reading will surely respond to this more symphonic reading. I certainly found myself revelling in details and rhythms as yet only hinted at, marvelling also at the coherence of Bernstein's hastily assembled creation. Yes, the Alleluias are heavily accented but goodness, the Ivesian rumty-tumty of the First Introit (tr. 4) has never sounded so uproarious.
Perhaps the Austrian oompah-pah tradition is the secret ingredient here, the Company of Music (the Street Chorus) and Tölz boys in fine form as well. Surely even the ever-critical Bernstein would have been captivated by the verve of this performance.
At this point I'd pretty much given up comparing the two recordings, such are the musical virtues and sonic splendours of this Chandos account. Scarlata and the boys' choir are incisive and alert in the Thrice-Triple Canon: Dominus vobiscum (tr. 5) and the restless bongos of In nomine Patris (another taped segment) are judged to perfection. The Tölz boys and the Chorus sine nomine are particularly affecting in the supplicatory Prayer for the Congregation (tr. 7). One would have to be stony hearted not to be moved by this gentlest of utterances, so feelingly voiced. After the bird-like oboe solo in the Epiphany (tr. 8) the Celebrant's call to confession (tr. 9) has some strongly rhythmic singing from Chorus sine nomine and a moody electric bass line.
The balance between acoustic and electric instruments is a real challenge in Mass, but here it's very well managed, the funky trope `I Don't Know' stylishly sung by `rock singers' Reinwald Kranner and Dave Moskin. This kind of pointedly `hip' interjection is very risky indeed - cue more shudders from the critics - but if anyone can bring it off Lenny can. Meanwhile the bluesy trope `Easy' (tr. 11) reminds me of Hair, another of those iconic shows from the period, albeit with the brazenness and Berlin accents of Cabaret. What a contrast with the symphonic Meditation No. 1 (tr. 12), with its agitated, Shostakovich-like string figures. There is real darkness and doubt in Mass and it lurks here too, although the radiant violin solos do manage to pierce the pervading gloom.
This new optimism is echoed in the vigorous Gloria tibi (tr. 13). Gloria in excelsis (tr. 14) is surely modelled on the spring-loaded rhythms of Poulenc's Gloria, with a dash of West Side Story added to `Half of the People' (tr. 15). Incredibly for players who aren't familiar with this music they inject an idiomatic, Jet-like swagger to the start of `Thank You', movingly sung by soprano Ruth Kraus. Again doubts surface in the Mahlerian Meditation No. 2, the cello soloist assailed by menacing interjections from the orchestra. In spite of that the simple solo line outlasts them all, bringing the first disc to a warmly expressive close.
For all its shortcomings Bernstein's recording will always have a special one. It's a unique reflection of the prevailing zeitgeist, and for that reason alone it deserves a place on your shelves. Järvi's reading is altogether more thoughtful, a mature, 21st-century take on the fading flower culture of the early seventies. We readily accept that performing styles change in other genres, so it's entirely appropriate that we have a new - and refreshing - perspective on Mass as well.
Scarlata opens disc two with an arresting Epistle. Even `Dear Mom and Dad' has added resonance, a new urgency, in an uncertain world, and once again Järvi responds with great sensitivity to the demands of the score. Anyone who doubts the ability of European performers to get to the heart of this piece of Americana should sample the upbeat Gospel-Sermon `God Said' (tr. 2). I was simply astonished by the choruses' ability to capture the rafter-ringing revivalism of this great number. Järvi and his musicians really seem to believe in this score, and of course belief - in the form of the Credo - lies at the very heart of the Mass. Typically, Bernstein contrasts this pre-recorded segment with its polar opposite, `Non Credo`. André Bauer is the fine baritone soloist here, and the pre-recorded Crucifixus will surely bring back memories of the rock-opera Jesus Christ Superstar. There's a bit of everything here, but then that's what Bernstein does best; he is a great assimilator.
The mezzo Heldemaria Gruber makes the most of the trope `Hurry' (tr. 5), although her words aren't very clear. Ruth Kraus enters the fray in `World without End' (tr. 6), which teeters on the brink of musical anarchy. Then there is a torrent of Janáèek-like `Amens' at the start of `I Believe in God' (tr. 7), in which Moskin - and just about everybody else - come perilously close to bringing the temple crashing down around them. The Chandos engineers cope admirably with all this controlled chaos; indeed, the recording sounds exceptional in both its CD and two-channel SACD forms. I imagine it would sound even more spectacular in its multi-channel guise.
The Celebrant's stern invocation `Let us pray' is met with an equally forceful response from the players in Meditation No. 3 (tr. 8) and elicits some transported singing from Chorus sine nomine. Scarlata's heartfelt prayer 'Remember, O Lord, thou servants and handmaids' - intoned over a sustained organ note - embraces performers and conductor; it's a touching moment that can so easily descend into bathos, yet here it's carried off with great conviction. The Tölz boys and Chorus sine nomine blaze their way through the Orffian Offertory (tr. 9) before we hear The Lord's Prayer (tr. 10), sung and picked out on the piano by the Celebrant. It's another of those potentially shudder-inducing moments that actually works very well. Scarlata then tops that with a melting rendition of `I Go On'. At this point I admit I was ready to jump up and applaud.
We move into the bright tones of the treble-dominated Sanctus (tr. 12) with its twangy interlude for electric guitar, part for counter-tenor and the usual Orffian ostinati. It's a truly bizarre confection but, as usual, Bernstein seems to make a decent recipe out of these disparate ingredients. Goodness, these drums would make the Telarc engineers green with envy; and the sheer oomph of the Agnus Dei (tr. 13) will take your breath away; Indeed, I wondered if Järvi and his musicians could wring any more volume or intensity from this wild, wild apotheosis.
The somewhat surreal sprechgesang-like `Fraction: Things Get Broken' (tr. 14) comes as a welcome respite after all that unbridled power. Once again Scarlata impresses with his extraordinary vocal range and colour palette, not to mention his ability to traverse so many different singing styles. In this, one of the longest and most sustained sections of Mass. Bernstein's melodic gifts are arrayed for all to see; remarkably, though, it's Järvi, not the composer, who shows them off to best advantage.
Despite all the conductor's insights it's Scarlata who makes this performance come alive. By comparison Titus sounds like a lightweight, lacking in character or feeling. Just listen to how Scaralata conveys exhaustion and despair in this penultimate - and very demanding - section. And savour those harps, soft pillows of sound on which the Celebrant can rest his weary head. Hugely theatrical, but as with all such gestures they are highly effective when handled with such sensitivity and good judgment. And the final section, with its treble solo, will surely bring back memories of Chichester Psalms. Boy soprano Georg Drexel is very affecting here - far preferable to the rather winsome soloist in Lenny's recording - as is the solo flute of Sonja Korak. There is a real sense of repose here, framed by harps and vocalists. Drexel returns at the close, his pure tones entwined with those of the more worldly Celebrant. v As a convert I exhort all those who don't believe in Mass to buy this recording and recant. I didn't expect to be as moved and thrilled by this performance as I was; indeed, it sets new standards for this most underrated work, both musically and sonically. Add to all these virtues a chunky, well-written booklet - including texts - and you have the makings of a modern classic
OK, I'm a traditional Catholic, and I go to the Tridentine Mass, so you can't expect me to kiss this piece. But I'm sorry, Bernstein's anarchic "Mass"--with its guitars, Latin pop rhythms and blasphemous outbursts--strikes me as dated and silly. I do not think Bernstein set out to denigrate the Mass. His music makes it pretty clear, though, that he had no idea of what this ancient ritual is about (trust me, if you could get your mind around even a tenth of it, it would frighten you far more than all his clanging and clattering).
The liner notes are condescending and just plain wrong. After telling us "not all Catholic clergy were unenlightened" (translation: not all of them disliked this piece) they go on to cite the praise of an Episcopal bishop, misidentifying him as Catholic. On the plus side, this performance is so meticulous and goofily sincere that it almost makes me nostalgic for the folk Masses I remember from grade school. Almost.
One of the happier outcomes of the recent Big Bernstein Bash, celebrating what would have been the maestro's 90th birthday, was a new respect for his Mass, a piece few have known quite what to think about, or do with, since its 1971 premiere, when it served as the gala for the opening of the Kennedy Center. Anyone with the column inches to do more than review recent concerts took the opportunity to weigh in on the piece, almost always to the much-bad-mouthed work's advantage. So it's fitting that the celebration ends with the release of the best recording of Mass to date (Chandos), by mostly Austrian forces under the savvy leadership of Kristjan Jarvi, whom you can't help thinking Lenny would have approved of in every way.
With a new bilingual production of West Side Story, now generally acknowledged as Bernstein's greatest achievement, just having opened on Broadway (with the Puerto Rican characters speaking their lines and singing some of the show's major hit tunes in Spanish), now's the time for this ultra-American music to spread its big, embracing wings. Occasionally on this infectiously wonderful new recording of Mass , the choristers and vocal soloists can give the impression that the Vienna Choir Boys have missed their connection at Grand Central. But Jarvi (yet another remarkable conductor son of Neeme Jarvi) has such a sure grasp of the piece's jumble of musical styles that the performance he gets from the Tonkunstler-Orchester, the Absolute Ensemble and a trio of choruses is truly idiomatic. You'd never suspect that Randall Scarlata, in the central role of the Mass' Celebrant, is Austrian. Hearing Mass leap the Atlantic that agilely is more than just testimony to its universality. It speaks to its quality.
Clearly influenced by the War Requiem of Benjamin Britten - the American premiere of whose Peter Grimes Bernstein conducted at Tanglewood when he was barely out of short pants - Bernstein's Mass blends the standard Latin Mass text with shards of Hebrew and a larger smattering of English texts by Stephen Schwartz and, for better and worse, the hyperverbal, omnisexual Bernstein.
Comparatively, the music is a veritable Tower of Babel, with Broadway, gospel, jazz, blues and other idioms not merely intermingled but positively tumbling out of and into one another.
The work's enormous embrace - its 70s, love-the-one-you're-with universalism - has always been the biggest impediment to a completely satisfying performance of the work. The likelihood of anyone's finding all the music engaging, or for that matter even convincing, is small, and passages that feel uplifting and "right on" one day may strike the same listener as shockingly inept, glib, or distasteful the next.
If Bernstein's Mass seems less dated than it has for the last four decades and more, look no farther than the timing of its re-emergence for an explanation. If its politics sometimes seem poster-ish, they match the tenor of those late, dark days of the Vietnam War and the Nixon Presidency, when the sense of the horror of it all no longer needed inflection. The words of the Paul Simon quatrain that Bernstein threw into the stew would be as apt for the Iraq War and the Bush administration: "Half the people are stoned/ And the other half are waiting for the next election." Sound familiar?
By the time of Mass, Bernstein's wrestling with the Divine had lightened considerably since the tortured doubt and protest of his 1963 'Kaddish' Symphony (completed the day of the assassination of JFK, a personal friend, whom Bernstein was remembering in his Catholic-ish Mass to open Kennedy Center). But if in Mass Bernstein meant the words of the "Simple Song" that frame the composition, "Sing like you like to sing./ God loves all simple things,/ For God is the simplest of all," he had become, if not the raging, tormented agnostic, the self-pitying, tormented Celebrant.
Mass is beyond any doubt a show, and the show is beyond any doubt about Lenny. He's railing about the impossibility of fulfilling the expectations people have of him as the apostle of music itself - expectations he himself created and, despite his lacerating self-doubt, magnificently fulfilled.
Bernstein composed his Mass at an historical juncture when Black Power and Student Power were, at least temporarily, passing the torch to Gay Liberation, not coincidentally at the core of his own personal work, and suffering, at the time. Is it any surprise that he acted it out in a Broadway-style show with a St. Sebastian figure at its heart?
Bernstein's contributions to the show were the music and the words, which can be easier to see whole in an audio-only version. In one as bracing as Jarvi's, it can seem as if nothing is missing.
Product Description
'He was a great individual, totally unafraid to take risks and largely misunderstood because people didn't see his universality' --Kristjan Jarvi on Leonard Bernstein. One of his most controversial compositions, Bernstein's Mass was written at the request of Jacqueline Kennedy Onnassis for the opening of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts in Washington DC and received its gala premiere at the venue's opening on 8 September 1971. Bernstein declared that his intention in writing the piece had been to communicate as directly and universally as I can a reaffirmation of faith. Recalling Britten's War Requiem in its use of Catholic liturgical text interrupted with commentary, the work caused a storm of controversy particularly with its exploration of the concerns of the era Nixon and Vietnam. Unlike Britten, however, as with many of his compositions, Bernstein brought together an embarrassment of riches of musical styles both classical and popular music at the start of the 1970s. The New York Times notes, Bernstein left nothing of himself out of Mass, and like the man who wrote it, the piece demands to be noticed... beneath the original dramatic conception, the creative exuberance, the showbiz glitter and the ear-catching set numbers is a sophisticated, carefully controlled piece of musical craftsmanship that repays close scrutiny... an extravagant, exuberant and endlessly inventive creation... Mass is now recognised as one of the central works of Twentieth Century American music, and its political and cultural importance as well as amazing music extends its relevance to today.
Leading Baritone Randall Scarlata takes the role of the celebrant, a role he has performed on many occasions. He is especially recognised for his performances of American repertoire. The Boston Globe recently commented, A triumph this baritone has in his keeping the vocal wherewithal to do just about anything he wants.
Leading Baritone Randall Scarlata takes the role of the celebrant, a role he has performed on many occasions. He is especially recognised for his performances of American repertoire. The Boston Globe recently commented, A triumph this baritone has in his keeping the vocal wherewithal to do just about anything he wants.
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12 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
The Best Modern Recording of Bernstein's 'Mass',
By J Scott Morrison (Middlebury VT, USA) - See all my reviews (TOP 50 REVIEWER) (VINE VOICE) (HALL OF FAME REVIEWER) (REAL NAME)
This review is from: Bernstein: Mass (Audio CD)
It hardly seems possible to a geezer like me that Bernstein's Mass was premiered almost forty years ago. I remember like yesterday the bombshell it set off with pedantic critics hating it -- Harold Schonberg of the New York Times called it "the greatest mélange of styles since the ladies' magazine recipe for steak fried in peanut butter and marshmallow sauce" -- and other more adventurous critics clutching it to their breast like a prodigal son. I consider myself to be on the pedantic side, but I loved it from the start. It was startling, yes, that Bernstein mixed so many musical styles -- romanticism, neoclassicisim, jazz, atonality, rock, pop, chant, hymnody, spoken word -- in disconcerting ways. But that approach perfectly matched the struggle inherent in the text. Bernstein's energy, ability to write memorable tunes and to require rhythmic subtlety drew me to it and I practically wore out the original LP with Bernstein conducting. I also attended three different live productions -- yes, 'productions': it IS, after all, subtitled 'A Theatre Piece for Singers, Players and Dancers' that literally requires over one hundred participants -- and was caught up in the delirium they engender. Perhaps because there are some similarities between today's world situation -- a populace at odds with their governments over wars, politicians held in low regard and friction between contending faiths -- and that of the early 1970s, 'Mass' has lately had a rising number of productions world-wide. Its pleas for peace, for cooperation between people and nations, and for progressive ideas strike a chord with modern listeners.
There has been one other relatively recent SACD recording of the work with Kent Nagano conducting and Jerry Hadley as the all-important Celebrant. It is a dud both aurally and musically. This recording, on the other hand, is a clear triumph. Conductor Kristjan Järvi (the younger of two conductor sons of noted conductor Neeme Järvi) leads an ensemble he founded in 1993, the Absolute Ensemble, combined with the Tonkünstler-Orchester Niederösterreich (of which he is the music director), the Tölzer Knabenchor, the Chorus sine nomine, and the Company of Music (who sing as the street chorus), plus Randall Scarlata as the Celebrant. Most of the vocal soloists are Austrian, taken from the participating singing groups, and it is wonderful to hear their fluent American accents in this quintessentially American text. One cannot erase memories of Alan Titus's magnificent Celebrant in the original recording, but the American baritone Randall Scarlata gives him a run for his money. Titus was only 26 when he created the part of the Celebrant and he certainly sounded a confused and conflicted young man. I was surprised to see the picture of Scarlata, who sounds equally young, and discover that he is middle-aged. He is a consummate actor in the part and completely satisfying, especially in the work's fifteen-minute-long mad scene, 'Things Get Broken.' One cannot praise highly enough Järvi's musical direction. He gives the piece rhythmic snap, beautifully calculated balances, architectural flow and dynamic shaping that mark him out as a conductor to watch. As for the SACD recording, I can only say that it is among the best I've heard, particularly since the varied types of music and musicians must be enormously difficult to record. The score calls for quadraphonic tapes to be played occasionally and in SACD they are startlingly antiphonally present, something I've only ever experienced in live performance of this work. Chandos' engineers deserve kudos for what they have achieved. For those who will be listening to this set in plain vanilla stereo, it sounds terrific that way, too. Add to this that the set is at mid-price (almost half the cost of the Nagano set), and you have a certifiable winner. Unequivocal and enthusiastic recommendation. Scott Morrison
4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
THIS is the recording of "Mass" I've been waiting for!,
By
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This review is from: Bernstein, L.: Mass (Jarvi) (MP3 Download)
I have known this work since its premiere in 1971, and saw it performed live a couple of times then. The original Leonard Bernstein recording was at that time one of my favorite records; I wore out more than one vinyl copy. So of course when it became available on CD, even though I hadn't heard it for quite some time, I was delighted to purchase it.
Only to find my enthusiasm for the work, as presented on that old favorite recording, had, to my great disappointment, waned considerably in the intervening years: listening in the 21st Century, I winced as often as I smiled; some of the 1970s anachronisms, in the lyrics and in the orchestrations, sounded nothing less than hokey and painfully embarrassing. Sadly, I put the work aside. Reading the poor reviews, I avoided the recording of a few years ago, but was thrilled to discover this new recording, and that it had garnered very favorable reviews. Listening myself, I find I agree entirely with the other reviewers' enthusiasm. Gone are many of the cornier lyrics (yay! No more "local vocal yokels"!); the orchestration has been re-worked to eliminate the worst of the 70s cliches as well. NOW this sounds like the classical work I honestly didn't know it was all along! And it's nothing short of magnificent. I adored Alan Titus' performance of the Celebrant, but Randall Scarlata is easily his equal. I had hesitated to introduce friends interested in musical theater to Mass in its original recording, but now, I am very pleased that I can let them discover the true beauty of this work through this very fine new recording.
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
A little too clean...,
By
This review is from: Bernstein: Mass (Audio CD)
This is a fine recording; it just lacks the spontaneity of the Bernstein recording. I also feel that the tempi are generally too bright and somewhat metronomic. I am thrilled that this masterpiece of twentieth-century eclecticism is finally being recorded, however, and this is certainly worth buying.
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