When it is announced with great fanfare that Carl Orff's (1895-1982) 130th anniversary will be celebrated with a large-scale project featuring more than 200 people on stage, I react with a sceptical caveat. Since it had been quite some time since I had heard Carmina Burana live, I took my chances and headed to Brussels on Sunday afternoon, 17 May. Unfortunately, my reservations were confirmed from the very first note. Once again it was irrefutably proven that quantity is absolutely no guarantee of quality. A critical stance is moreover warranted here, as such prestigious concerts in top venues are far from free; the concertgoer pays a considerable ticket price and is rightfully entitled to expect commensurate, flawless quality in return.
The concert opened with Maurice Ravel's (1875-1937) Bolero. Since Music Hall wants to please the audience with absolute blockbusters as an opening act, I can commercially follow that programming combination. The drummer dutifully followed the tempo of conductor Paul Dinneweth, except that this tempo was far too slow. By comparison: in his own historical recording from 1930, Ravel takes only a quarter hour over it.
It gets worse when the entries of various solo instruments from orchestra La Passione are not in tune and not always aligned. When – as Ravel did provide for, but rarely happens – a second drummer comes in, the conductor unexpectedly accelerates the tempo to a pace that is roughly three times as fast. The logical consequence was that this iconic piece did not culminate in the promised captivating, shimmering sound ecstasy, but rather in a sound chaos. Especially when the gong came in too late at the very last moment and painfully resonated alone afterwards. Through this acceleration, towards the end it was purely aimed at a cheap-looking and spectacular effect – a missed opportunity. That a Bolero in a slow tempo can be compelling was convincingly demonstrated by Sergiu Celibidache back then, but then you have to have the discipline as a conductor to consistently maintain your tempo.
When the more than 100-member choir – described in the announcements as a "monumental ensemble" – took the stage, the piece that the entire hall had come for began. Admittedly, at the very beginning I thought: this could become something. But from the moment when it had to be sung with greater refinement, layering or with the necessary humour, you immediately noticed that they were insufficiently in command of this artistic register. The Music Hall blog does describe Orff's masterpiece as "raw, rhythmic and physical", as a "pure primordial music" that "did not believe in virtuosity, but in direct impact", but that should not be a licence for a lack of vocal nuance.
We were also struck here by the typical defect that so often rears its head with amateur choirs: the high notes posed an insurmountable problem. They sounded shrill, strained and at times even disturbingly out of tune. Moreover, the orchestra and choir did not function as a homogeneous whole; there was regularly pulling and pushing where either the choir or the orchestra led the way. Furthermore, the percussion, just as earlier during the Bolero, shimmered indistinctly for too long throughout the hall.
The soloists were equally unconvincing. Soprano Klara Vermeer possessed a fine, lyrical voice, but was simply too weak to rise above the instrumental onslaught. When she had to reach for the high notes, the intelligibility of the medieval texts was completely lost and you only heard inarticulate sounds. The amusing, theatrical staging of tenor Laurens-Alexander Wyns and baritone Joris Derder could likewise not conceal their limited vocal capacity. Without the orchestra or with a very minimal ensemble it worked somewhat, but as soon as the full orchestra La Passione kicked in – which performed here as a chamber orchestra and thus had a modest ensemble in comparison to a full authentic symphony orchestra that normally performs – their voices were unintelligible. You could tell from everything that they were too light and too weak to properly carry to the second balcony of the Henry Le Boeuf hall.
Towards the end, the fatigue in the singers' vocal cords became painfully audible. Singing this piece is quite a serious physical challenge, comparable to hours of intense exercise. In the last two parts, for lack of technique, they were more bellowing than singing. Fine, that apparently works as a sort of auditory shock effect on the general public, and although Carmina Burana is marketed by Music Hall as a "musical storm from whisper-soft tension to thunderous ecstasy", there is indeed considerable subtlety and irony woven throughout the score. I completely missed that refinement this afternoon. That said, the choir members did not lose heart; their unwavering commitment did them credit. A rare bright spot was also the fresh, crystal-clear voices of the young singers of the Flanders Boys Choir, who showed how it should be done.
After the closing notes of the repeated O Fortuna, the audience responded in traditional fashion with enthusiastic shouts of bravo and loud applause. Am I then too strict as a reviewer? deChorale has pursued a highly commendable and respectable course as an amateur choir for more than a century in our cultural landscape, but why must one necessarily venture into such a demanding crowd-pleaser? The iron-clad discipline of the singers was absolutely evident; they undeniably did their utmost. But would it not have been wiser for the conductor to choose repertoire in which the singers are vocally more comfortable? Repertoire with which they can truly captivate the music lover, instead of fishing for the favour of the casual concert-goer who merely thinks: "Oh, I know this work from the radio or a commercial, I'll go there because I've never heard it live before," as I heard several people next to me saying.
The orchestra La Passione should also think more critically about the projects it lends its name to. As an accompanying ensemble you need not blindly accept everything commercial producers put before you. And of course, it also plays a role that from the second balcony of Bozar you get a fine, but at the same time inexorable and merciless view and hearing of the actual technical abilities of the various musicians.
O Fortuna. She weighs and decides, but this afternoon fate was unfortunately not favourably disposed towards the music.