2026

    This page presents reviews of the performances that took place in 2026. We would like to express our gratitude to the authors for their invaluable contributions.

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REACHING OUT TO THE UNIVERSE

Anja-Rosa Thöming

Bremen Cathedral, 10 October 2026

    In the North German Hanseatic city of Bremen, two very different French settings of the Requiem were performed at the start of autumn: Firstly, Gabriel Fauré’s delicate, heartfelt ‘little’ Requiem at St Johann’s Catholic Church, in the version with organ accompaniment, sung by the chamber choir and the youth choir (9 October); and the following day, Hector Berlioz’s expansive Grande Messe des Morts with a large orchestra at Bremen Cathedral (10 October). The cathedral, with its two towers standing a good 90 metres high, is a landmark of the city on the River Weser. Before the Reformation, the venerable cathedral was the seat of the archbishop; today it belongs to the Evangelical Lutheran cathedral parish of St Petri. After Romanesque beginnings, it was expanded into a late-Gothic hall church; it has a seating capacity of 1,600. There are two crypts and six organs; in 1698, an organ from the famous Hamburg workshop of Arp Schnitger was installed, which was replaced in 1849. Choral music performed by the cathedral choir also has a long tradition; Johannes Brahms’ German Requiem was premiered here in 1868.

    At 93 metres in length, Bremen Cathedral is almost as long as Saint-Eustache in Paris, where Berlioz conducted the Requiem in 1852. As we know, Berlioz attached great importance to the spatial effect of his music: “on ne veut jamais se persuader que l’édifice où l’on fait de la musique est un instrument de musique lui-même”.¹ Camille Saint-Saëns said of his experience of listening to the Grande Messe des Morts: “Depuis que cette œuvre gigantesque a résonné sous les voûtes de Saint-Eustache, c’était la première fois qu’on l’exécutait dans un local assez vaste pour s’y trouver à l’aise; la salle du Châtelet, elle-même, est insuffisante, et son caractère théâtral s’accorde mal avec celui du Requiem, si théâtral pourtant quelquefois, mais d’un théâtral particulier, celui des Mystères”.² The following impression of Saint-Saëns has also been handed down: “Il me sembla que chaque colonette des piliers devenait un tuyau et toute l’église un orgue immense!”³

    If one is serious about the ‘Mystères’, then staging the Berlioz Requiem in the very spacious Bremen Cathedral is a truly fundamental decision. Those involved are well aware of the practical challenges posed by the acoustics of the church interior: just a few years ago, the reverberation time was over 8 seconds! Resonance boxes were therefore installed to absorb the low frequencies, along with curtains that have reduced the reverberation time at mid-frequencies to 3.8 seconds. As a final step, a curved wooden sound sail measuring a good 100 square metres was installed directly above the choir. It directs the sound into the nave towards the audience. The result is greater clarity and spatial depth in the sound; concert-goers can now clearly distinguish who is singing and playing what.

    This was certainly the case at the performance in October, where the orchestra – the Bremen Philharmonic – cut a particularly fine figure. Right from the very opening of the ‘Requiem’ and the ‘Kyrie’, the chromatic unison line played by the second violins and violas could be heard with clarity and precision. And later on, too, one could appreciate the instrumental transparency, for example in the animated middle voices accompanying the canto dolce ‘qui salvandos salvas gratis’ in the ‘Rex tremendae’.

    In the ‘Quid sum miser’, the expressive playing of the solo bassoons could be heard with crystal clarity. The musicians had evidently read Berlioz’s instruction to the tenors, ‘avec un sentiment d’humilité et crainte’, and incorporated it into their interpretation; it was deeply moving.

    Following the sonic eruptions of the brass in the ‘Tuba mirum’ and the humble, despondent ‘Quid sum miser’, a profound impression emerged in the ‘Rex tremendae majestatis’: a truly classical-sounding, rhythmically majestic musical gesture, brought to life by the woodwinds, horns and, above all, the strings. The conductor and cathedral cantor, Tobias Gravenhorst, brought out the instrumental splendour and intensity of this movement with a decidedly restrained tempo. At the same time, he succeeded in highlighting the singers’ touchingly simple “Salva me, fons pietatis” as a human and religious testimony of absolute trust.

    As David Cairns pointed out in his section on the Grande Messe in his book Servitude and Greatness, it is not the excessive use of the brass sections that is characteristic, but rather the restrained, sporadic outbursts. The fanfares of trumpets, trombones and tubas – so fascinating in both rhythm and timbre (it is doubtful whether ophicleides were present) – produced a thrilling surround sound thanks to their positioning within the cathedral. The brass section of the Bremen Philharmonic Orchestra brought together loud, resonant yet clean and melodious notes and phrases with astonishing precision. The effect seemed all the more spectacular because it took most of the audience by surprise.

    This phenomenon apparently also affects the composition as a whole. A friend of mine – an organist who is certainly open-minded and also interested in symphonic music – remarked after the concert that he felt it lacked ‘melodies’. Yet the Berlioz Requiem is full of melodies! From the tenors’ sweeping vocal line ‘Te decet hymnus Deus in Sion’ in the first movement right through to the continuous, passionate orchestral melody in the ‘Offertoire’, which is explicitly marked ‘canto espressivo’ at its climax. So, would it be necessary to familiarise oneself with the ‘Requiem’ via a recording first, before hearing it live, in order to learn to appreciate it?

    My friend said he loved the “Hosanna in excelsis” which is perhaps most easily to grasp when hearing it for the first time. Isaak Lee sang a light, well-intoned ‘Sanctus’, with almost no vibrato. The accompanying delicate cymbal strikes could have sounded even more celestial.

    Some shortcomings of the performance are worth mentioning, as they may be symptomatic of what was undoubtedly a very good, ambitious production involving amateur singers.

    The tempo of the ‘Lacrymosa’ appeared too slow. As a result, the complex syncopated rhythm, with its pronounced upbeat, fell almost apart, which did not make things any easier for the singers. The powerful music — like a ship on raging waves, as Tobias Gravenhorst aptly put it in the programme notes — at times overwhelmed the vocal power of the choir, which numbered only around 70 singers.

    The choir performed very well individually, but was clearly too small in relation to the orchestra during the forte passages. It might be worth considering adding a youth choir. This would not only enhance the richness of the sound but also add a greater brilliance, which the bell-like voices of young people bring quite naturally.

    At times the choir’s intonation was not entirely precise. However beautifully the ladies and gentlemen of the Cathedral Choir – reinforced by members of the theatre choir – phrased their passages, audible discrepancies with the instruments were nevertheless noticeable in the transparent movements such as the ‘Offertoire’ – no doubt precisely because of the recurring two-note motif representing the longing souls in Purgatory. In the concluding ‘Agnus Dei’, any intonation errors may have been due to a final loss of energy.

    Berlioz does indeed demand a great deal, particularly from the tenors. With sure hands Conductor Gravenhorst brought the Grande Messe des Morts to a meaningful close. The plaintive woodwinds and strings, together with the faltering fragments in the vocal parts, really got under one’s skin. The calmly rising and falling string arpeggios accompanying the concluding “Amen” could have moved even listeners with no religious background; it sounded like a celebration of music itself reaching out to the universe.

Anja-Rosa Thöming

Notes

1. Berlioz, Le Rénovateur, 19 juillet 1835. Quoted in: Peter Bloom, The Life of Berlioz, Cambridge University Press, 1998, p. 84

2. Camille Saint-Säens, “Le Requiem de Berlioz”, École buissonnière, Paris: Pierre Lafitte, 1913, p. 213. Quoted in: “Berlioz et Paris”, sous la direction de Cécile Reynaud. Actes Sud/Palazetto Bru Zane 2023, p. 159.

3. “Discours de M. Saint-Säens lu par M le Maire de la Côte-Saint-André”, Le Guide musical, 6 et 13 septembre 1903, p. 627. Quoted in: “Berlioz et Paris”, sous la direction de Cécile Reynaud. Actes Sud/Palazetto Bru Zane 2023, p. 159. (The full text of the speech is reproduced on this site.)

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