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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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