This was a recreation of a Proms concert that Benjamin Britten conducted in 1963, but with a contemporary twist. The original concert opened with Britten’s own respectful version of Purcell’s Chacony in G minor but, on this occasion, we heard the world premiere of a BBC commission: Joby Talbot’s take on the same piece, an evocative and atmospheric essay in orchestral colour set within a halo of bell sounds.
The rest of the first half was a prophetic bit of concert programming at the end of a week when England was riven by appalling street riots, violence and looting. I found it hard to get these incidents out of my mind during the following two works - Britten’s retelling of the Good Samaritan story in Cantata misericordium and his Sinfonia da Requiem.
The Cantata misericordium was written in 1963 to celebrate the centenary of the Red Cross. It opens with the bleak sound of a string quartet before the chorus enters with the almost pleading intonation, Beati misericordes, which is then extended into a slow triple-time dance accompanied by plucked strings and piano. One of many moving musical moments comes with the little dueted response by the two protagonists (Alan Oke, tenor and, notably, Leigh Melrose, baritone) to the statement “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” as they sing “But who is my neighbour?” – a question they answer at the end of the work as the dance recurs to the words “Go and do likewise”. As the traveller is robbed and left half dead, the choir adds their soto voce commentary as first a priest and then a Levite pass by before the Samaritan eventually comes to the Traveller’s aid.
The Sinfonia da Requiem is one of the most unlikely pairings of commission and composition ever. It was commissioned in 1939 at the request of the expansively militaristic Japanese government for their celebrations of the 2,600th anniversary of the Empire. They later rejected it as being too Christian. It is dedicated to the memory of his parents and dramatically expresses Britten’s anti-war convictions – “I’m making it as anti-war as possible”. Although it can easily be read as a poke in Japan’s eye, Britten is likely (as Sara Mohr-Pietsch pointed out in her erudite and friendly pre-concert live broadcast talk) to have written this piece whatever the commission. The ominous thuds of the opening ‘slow marching lament’ (Lacrymosa) start a slowly unfolding musical texture of unremitting tension, built on a series of tiny motifs. After an emotive climax, the scherzo-like Dies Irae graphically depicts an ultimately destructive dance of death, the aftermath of which is reflected in the concluding slow movement, Requiem aeturnam.