War Requiem was composed in 1961 for the consecration of Coventry Cathedral – newly rebuilt following its destruction in the Second World War. It famously inserts nine of Wilfred Owen’s war poems into the text of the traditional Latin mass, often adding an ironic comment on the sentiments of that text. For the 1962 première Britten planned to engage soloists from three of the combatant nations, Britain (Peter Pears, tenor), Germany (Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, baritone), and Russia (Galina Vishnevskaya, soprano – though the Soviet regime prevented her participation). In something of the same spirit, this performance was sung by German baritone Benjamin Appl, who was mentored by Fischer-Dieskau, and Andrew Staples, who was the first holder of the Peter Pears scholarship at the RCM. The boys’ choir combined choristers from Westminster Cathedral and the Staats- und Domchor Berlin.
Britten said he designed War Requiem “for a big reverberant acoustic, and that is where it sounds best”. Westminster Cathedral enabled us to hear exactly what Britten meant from the outset, when the portentous plea for eternal rest from the 200 strong main chorus seemed so cavernous, and was succeeded by a magical transition to the distant boys’ chorus set far back behind the main choir, their “Te decet hymnus” sounding symbolically (and almost literally), like an angelic choir from the beyond. Soprano Sally Matthews, singing from the pulpit, sang her angular line in the Liber scriptus with its wide leaps with impressive strength and accuracy, easily dominating the large space of the nave. And of course it was especially effective to hear the line “One ever hangs where shelled roads part” with the vast hanging crucifix with its portrait of Christ dominating the scene behind.
The Owen poems are given to tenor and baritone soloists and accompanied by twelve players forming a chamber orchestra (all members of the Philharmonia). Andrew Staples was moving indeed in Futility (“Move him into the sun”), with a legato line even Pears might have envied, and sang the question “Was it for this the clay grew tall?” in a touching beseeching manner that told us the answer. Benjamin Appl has won high praise for his accomplishment in Lieder, but still had no problem commanding this least intimate of venues. It is hard to imagine “Bugles sang, saddening the evening air” being better sung, and his forte singing in “Be slowly lifted up thou long black arm/Great towering gun” had the stentorian note of protest at “that arrogance which needs thy harm” but without any hardening of tone. Tenor and baritone combined very well too in “Out there, we’ve walked quite friendly up to Death” and in the poem retelling – indeed reversing – the Abraham and Isaac story.