textura

Jeremy Beck: Requiem
Acis

Whereas another composer's liner notes might be voluminous, those by Jeremy Beck (b. 1960) for his Requiem release are conspicuous for their brevity. Yet what the two paragraphs contain say much about the general character of the work and his conception of it. After first clarifying that a requiem is also known as a “Mass for the Dead” that might be performed at a funeral to memorialize an individual or group, Beck cites Mozart, Verdi, Ligeti, Britten, and Christopher Rouse as composers who've created treatments that weren't created for a liturgical context exclusively but as concert works. Regardless, all come, he states, “from a place of mourning, in remembrance of losses due to war, other human cruelty, or natural occurrence.”

Beck cites Arvo Pärt's sacred choral music and Alfred Schnittke's Concerto for Choir as pivotal for the development of his own piece, specifically for their restraint and power. While he's candid about the composers and works that laid the groundwork for his Requiem, he's less explicit about what's being mourned in his own. His closing statement, that it is “without dedication, but is of its time,” suggests any number of possible interpretations. That his multi-year undertaking coincided with the harrowing period of the COVID-19 pandemic could be a factor. No matter: Beck's Requiem follows in the footsteps of countless great composers who've imposed their stamp on the form, and his—commendably compact at fifty-seven minutes—makes for a fine addition to that tradition.

That aforementioned restraint doesn't apply to the tone of the work only but also its instrumentation. Scored for mixed chorus and string orchestra, the work is performed by Coro Volante and the Cincinnati String Ensemble under conductor Brett Scott's direction. At twenty-four voices strong (six groupings apiece of sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses), the choir is capable of generating a massive sound but also a fragile hush. The work advances through eleven parts, beginning, naturally, with “Requiem and Kyrie” and eventually resolving with “Lux aeterna.” Recorded at The Episcopal Church of the Redeemer in Cincinnati, Ohio over four days in September 2022, Requiem is Beck's eighth studio album and a mature statement by the composer.

Beck's citing of Pärt is especially telling in that like the music by the Estonian composer Beck's accentuates atmosphere as much as melody. Yes, themes are present, but it's the overall mood of each part that invites immersion. As a result, individual movements don't stand out as more memorable than others; instead, the work registers as a commanding whole. While it eases in gently, Requiem swells rapidly as the male and female voices multiply and the strings enter. Vocal lines alternate in glorious counterpoint, some soaring high and others inhabiting a lower realm. Supplications are delivered with intense passion, desperation even, as the singers plead for mercy. The dynamic “Dies irae” is delivered with high energy, with voices declaiming and strings underscoring their words with urgent, stabbing gestures. “Liber scriptus” impresses for the sophistication of its intricate polyphonic design and the deft execution of the material by the singers and instrumentalists.

In its expressive appeal for salvation, “Quid sum miser – Rex tremendae” presents one of the work's most moving episodes but also one of its most vocally emphatic. Following the ecstatic pitch to which it sometimes escalates, “Recordare – Ingemisco – Confutatis” dials the intensity down for tender expressions of humility and contrition (“I pray in supplication on my knees”). “Lacrimosa” reinstates the declamatory, high-intensity attack, after which passionate pleas for deliverance animate “Domine Jesu.” As the work moves into its penultimate part, “Agnus Dei,” the music grows gentler, more peaceful and reverential until “Lux aeterna” concludes Requiem in a blaze of affirmation.

Beck's an interesting figure, not only for the quality music he creates but for the work he does outside of composing. His material has been performed by companies such as the American Composers Orchestra, New York City Opera, the Apollo Chorus of Chicago, and the Louisville Orchestra, and Beck, a graduate of Mannes College of Music, Duke University, and the Yale School of Music, has been a tenured associate professor of composition and music theory. He's also, however, a lawyer with a practice operating out of Louisville, Kentucky. In a textura review of an earlier Beck recording, he was commended for “cultivating an individual voice while operating within a tradition,” and the words as easily apply to this latest refined creation when Requiem positions itself comfortably alongside its predecessors whilst also presenting a personal take. He's certainly well-served by Coro Volante, Scott, and the Cincinnati String Ensemble, who render this majestic work with consummate sensitivity, precision, and poise.

November 2024


	Jeremy Beck: Requiem Acis Whereas another composer's liner notes might be voluminous, those by Jeremy Beck (b. 1960) for his Requiem release are conspicuous for their brevity. Yet what the two paragraphs contain say much about the general character of the work and his conception of it. After first clarifying that a requiem is also known as a “Mass for the Dead” that might be performed at a funeral to memorialize an individual or group, Beck cites Mozart, Verdi, Ligeti, Britten, and Christopher Rouse as composers who've created treatments that weren't created for a liturgical context exclusively but as concert works. Regardless, all come, he states, “from a place of mourning, in remembrance of losses due to war, other human cruelty, or natural occurrence.” Beck cites Arvo Pärt's sacred choral music and Alfred Schnittke's Concerto for Choir as pivotal for the development of his own piece, specifically for their restraint and power. While he's candid about the composers and works that laid the groundwork for his Requiem, he's less explicit about what's being mourned in his own. His closing statement, that it is “without dedication, but is of its time,” suggests any number of possible interpretations. That his multi-year undertaking coincided with the harrowing period of the COVID-19 pandemic could be a factor. No matter: Beck's Requiem follows in the footsteps of countless great composers who've imposed their stamp on the form, and his—commendably compact at fifty-seven minutes—makes for a fine addition to that tradition. That aforementioned restraint doesn't apply to the tone of the work only but also its instrumentation. Scored for mixed chorus and string orchestra, the work is performed by Coro Volante and the Cincinnati String Ensemble under conductor Brett Scott's direction. At twenty-four voices strong (six groupings apiece of sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses), the choir is capable of generating a massive sound but also a fragile hush. The work advances through eleven parts, beginning, naturally, with “Requiem and Kyrie” and eventually resolving with “Lux aeterna.” Recorded at The Episcopal Church of the Redeemer in Cincinnati, Ohio over four days in September 2022, Requiem is Beck's eighth studio album and a mature statement by the composer. Beck's citing of Pärt is especially telling in that like the music by the Estonian composer Beck's accentuates atmosphere as much as melody. Yes, themes are present, but it's the overall mood of each part that invites immersion. As a result, individual movements don't stand out as more memorable than others; instead, the work registers as a commanding whole. While it eases in gently, Requiem swells rapidly as the male and female voices multiply and the strings enter. Vocal lines alternate in glorious counterpoint, some soaring high and others inhabiting a lower realm. Supplications are delivered with intense passion, desperation even, as the singers plead for mercy. The dynamic “Dies irae” is delivered with high energy, with voices declaiming and strings underscoring their words with urgent, stabbing gestures. “Liber scriptus” impresses for the sophistication of its intricate polyphonic design and the deft execution of the material by the singers and instrumentalists. In its expressive appeal for salvation, “Quid sum miser – Rex tremendae” presents one of the work's most moving episodes but also one of its most vocally emphatic. Following the ecstatic pitch to which it sometimes escalates, “Recordare – Ingemisco – Confutatis” dials the intensity down for tender expressions of humility and contrition (“I pray in supplication on my knees”). “Lacrimosa” reinstates the declamatory, high-intensity attack, after which passionate pleas for deliverance animate “Domine Jesu.” As the work moves into its penultimate part, “Agnus Dei,” the music grows gentler, more peaceful and reverential until “Lux aeterna” concludes Requiem in a blaze of affirmation. Beck's an interesting figure, not only for the quality music he creates but for the work he does outside of composing. His material has been performed by companies such as the American Composers Orchestra, New York City Opera, the Apollo Chorus of Chicago, and the Louisville Orchestra, and Beck, a graduate of Mannes College of Music, Duke University, and the Yale School of Music, has been a tenured associate professor of composition and music theory. He's also, however, a lawyer with a practice operating out of Louisville, Kentucky. In a textura review of an earlier Beck recording, he was commended for “cultivating an individual voice while operating within a tradition,” and the words as easily apply to this latest refined creation when Requiem positions itself comfortably alongside its predecessors whilst also presenting a personal take. He's certainly well-served by Coro Volante, Scott, and the Cincinnati String Ensemble, who render this majestic work with consummate sensitivity, precision, and poise. November 2024