NJ Symphony, MSU Chorale bring clarity and balance to music by Mozart, Mahler and Fauré

ROB DAVIDSON

Xian Zhang conducts New Jersey Symphony, joined by Montclair State University Chorale, at NJPAC in Newark.

It is hard to imagine anything being done better at New Jersey Symphony’s “Mozart’s Requiem” program of vocal scenes featuring Montclair State University Chorale, April 16 at NJPAC in Newark. Many different styles and colors were on display, including the mystical French impressionism of Gabriel Fauré’s Pavane, and the romantic art songs of Gustav Mahler’s Songs of a Wayfarer, starring bass-baritone Dashon Burton.

For Mozart’s masterwork of sacred music, featuring a quartet of top-tier guest vocalists, music director Xian Zhang, the Symphony musicians and the choir were in complete harmony.

The concerts — which also took place April 18 at NJPAC and April 19 at The State Theatre New Jersey in New Brunswick — featured about 130 choristers under the direction of Heather J. Buchanan. With that much vocal power, the choir could have swamped the Symphony of about 50 musicians and blown the roofs off the venues. (I’m happy to report that the roof remained intact, April 16.) But all the music was presented with clarity and balance.

The choir demonstrated its ability to sustain long, flowing phrases and suave pianissimo in Fauré’s Pavane. Deriving from a 16th-century Spanish court dance, Pavane was originally written for orchestra (1887) and later expanded into a text version with a chorus, set to a French poem by Montesquieu. A graceful flute opening (played by Bart Feller) set the contemplative, peaceful mood. The work can sometimes feel too sensuous and detached, but beneath the glimmering and shimmering surfaces, Zhang made subtle suggestions of substance and muscle.

With such a mystical opening, you would think Zhang would continue down the road of medieval mysticism for the Requiem. Plenty of conductors do; the movement was still popular at the time of the piece. Others like to take a serious and tragic approach that is more in line with the genre — traditionally performed at funeral services and death anniversaries — and the work’s haunting mythology.

In late summer 1791, Mozart was approached by a cloaked stranger who asked him to write a requiem. Mozart had no idea who it was at the time, but it was actually the servant of a count who bought works from composers and passed them off as his own.

Mozart was in high spirits when he began composing, riding on the success of The Magic Flute, his last opera. But by late November, he was bedbound and ill, and increasingly convinced that he was writing his own requiem and that the cloaked stranger was from beyond the grave. When he died in early December, only the first seven of 12 sections were completed. His student and friend Süssmayr finished it, though exactly where Mozart left off and Süssmayr began is still up for debate.

In Zhang’s hands, not a single shadow of death passed over the piece; nothing bogged down in profundity or reverence. You did not have to look hard to find the youthful spirit of Mozart, bright and intense. She brought out Mozart’s clarity of form and phrasing, and kept the momentum going from one section to the next. A swift but peaceful Requiem aeternam set the pace with tempos on the brisk side and no feelings of heaviness or rumination.

Conductors often take up the work as a religious rite, placing emphasis on the Latin text even when it is performed in a concert hall and not a place of worship (as intended). Zhang broke it free of its liturgical constraints, putting emphasis on its drama and the different musical character and moods of each section.

The chorus used a legato sound of smooth vocal lines, and an equality of resonance in phrases. Everything was kept tastefully within dramatic restraints. Robust fortes were used sparingly — only when there was dramatic justification for it, like in the Lacrymosa and, of course, in the Dies irae, the dramatic heart of the work. Here, Gregory LaRosa on timpani gave a series of agitated, articulated staccatos that mimicked thunderclaps of doom.

Zhang kept textures optimal, with the sound of the orchestra set off sharply against that of the choir. Concertmaster Eric Wyrick and standmate Brennan Sweet led the violin section with lightning fast bowings in Dies Irae. Recordare brought out sustained lyricism of the cellos and basses.

ROB DAVIDSON

Dashon Burton performs with New Jersey Symphony, conducted by Xian Zhang.

The vocal soloists kept an ear towards Mozart’s operatic singing. Soprano Mei Gui Zhang’s deep, dark timbre melded well with mezzo Taylor Raven, who had a rich voice of many colors and character. Tenor Eric Ferring sang in a clear and radiant tone that gave a “recitative” feeling to his voice. It made an impactful change of color against Burton, particularly in the Tuba Mirum quartet (which opened with a fine solo from Levi Boylan on trombone) and the Benedictus.

Burton has an indelible quality to his voice that made an exciting match for Mahler’s Wayfarer. Mahler wrote the song cycle in 1883 at age 23 after a bad breakup. He found solace from his heartbreak in writing poetry, which naturally led to a song cycle, although for this he used German folk poetry. The songs are very personal and highly romantic, and explore his feelings of being cast aside — moving through the world as a lone traveler, in exile, without a destination.

Burton’s sympathetic understanding of the text made for a fine interpretation. He sang with great emotional intensity and tender sentiment in the contemplative and quieter moments.

The one thing that can sink German Lieder is mushy diction. No worries here. Burton used the appropriate German articulation and enunciation, which is often more forceful and accented than English. In the second song, in which the beauty of nature does not heal the narrator’s heartbreak, Burton sang so convincingly that it was met with spontaneous applause.

Musically, Wayfarer is complex and demanding, alternating between lullabies and excitable interludes. Zhang and the musicians treated some of the Mahlerian intensity with meltingly subtle phrasing. As with the Requiem, everything felt fresh with no sense of nostalgic dwelling.

Rarely does a concert not just present the pieces well, but take them beyond their usual level. This was one of those times.

____________________________