The "Introit" opened with a mournful motive played by the orchestra. The repeated figure emphasized beat two in the context of ¾ time. Its steady, repetitive quality created the effect of a death march, with feet dragging in a slow journey to the underworld. The figure was played with a gentle sensitivity that lured the audience into the "Requiem"'s world of intensity and darkness. After a few minutes of this beckoning gesture, the ensemble began to crescendo, building in intensity until the sheer enormity of the ensemble wrapped the audience in the blanket of their sound. The "Introit" climaxed with the melismatic "Kyrie" section. The text of the "Kyrie" ("Lord have mercy; Christ have mercy; Lord have mercy") was embodied in the huge, final chord of foreboding.
Because the massive nature of the piece, brief silences between sections were very important in allowing listeners to process the music before moving on. I wish that the conductor had taken more time with these pauses to let the purity of the silence resonate with the remnants of the ensemble's beautiful sound.
After a much more satisfying break, the ensemble began the "Sequence." Historically, a sequence began as a variation of Gregorian chant, adding religious texts onto elongated syllables of existing chant. However, the sequence eventually evolved into its own genre of sacred composition and flourished as such until being banned by the Council of Trent in the 16th century. The "Requiem" includes one of the most famous sequences of all time: the Dies Irae, the depiction of the horrors of Judgment Day. The ensemble's interpretation of this hellish mood was very effective. I was especially struck by the repeated swarming figure in the strings on each "Dies Irae": a quick crescendo followed by a drop to subito piano. This mood of terror was followed by an extended trombone solo. Its mellowness was a nice contrast to the business and tension of the preceding section. The soloist entered commandingly, and with beautiful tone, but when the vocal soloist entered, she backed off so as not to overpower him. The trombonist played quite nicely, but he certainly could have maintained more of the majestic quality of her initial entrance without overshadowing the vocalist.
Although each of the vocal soloists was obviously very talented, it seemed like they were not as emotionally connected to the piece as the students. Their performances sounded isolated from the unified sound of the group as a whole. When all four sang together, their voices technically were in harmony with each other, but the singing wasn't interactive. They did not blend with each other or the rest of the group.
The ensemble returned to the tension drama in the next section of the "Requiem." The ascending and descending chromatic figure in the strings created a hurried feel, recognized as the sound of galloping horses from the final minutes of Mozart's biographical movie, "Amadeus."
Slowly, this wound down into the eerily calm and gripping "Lacrimosa" section. Here, the initial death march figure with the stress on beat two reappeared. The combination of this dragging rhythmic motive and the wailing minor chords created, for the first time in the piece, a mood not of menace and hellfire, but of sadness and lament.
The "Offertory" section alternated between passages of lyricism and of dramatic urgency. Moving into the "Sanctus" and "Benedictus" sections, the ensemble's emotional involvement reached a thrilling climax. Beginning with thin instrumentation, members of the ensemble slowly layered in until the music built into a vibrant and intricately woven cannon. The orchestra supported the choir's words of praise to God with a huge, glorious and full sound. It was clear that each musician was emotionally invested, to a high degree, in the piece.
The ending's bombastic effect was sealed by a wonderfully commanding timpani roll. As the sound of the final note resonated throughout the hall, the awestruck hush of the audience was broken by one woman who read everyone's minds. "Wow," she whispered in the silence.