TOKYO — When two elite Tokyo orchestras program the same, relatively obscure oratorio within a week of each other, it’s natural to suspect some behind-the-scenes coordination. That was at least an initial hypothesis when the NHK Symphony under Fabio Luisi performed Franz Schmidt’s Das Buch mit sieben Siegeln (The Book with Seven Seals) on Sept. 12 at NHK Hall and, in the concert I heard a week later, the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra led by Lorenzo Viotti presented the work with different soloists at Suntory Hall.
But the hypothesis’ ultimate collapse had nothing to do with the fact that Schmidt’s 110-minute opus is only sporadically performed outside its composer’s homeland, Austria; that it’s rarely been deemed a work of genius; that the NHKSO and TSO have no specific institutional rivalry; or that with a Christian population of under one percent, Japan lacks an obvious affinity for Schmidt’s 1937 setting of the Book of Revelation.
The collusion theory failed when the two orchestras’ executives admitted in a local classical magazine that the programming overlap was pure coincidence: “Everyone was in shock” (NHK), “We were also blown away” (TSO). Recovering quickly from their surprise, they deftly collaborated in marketing their performances as evidence of the richness of Tokyo’s classical scene. Smart move.
Though born the same year (1874) as Arnold Schoenberg, Schmidt clung resolutely to his roots in Bach, Bruckner, and Wagner. His Book is nevertheless ambitious in its integration of classical and pre-classical forms with late-Romantic harmonies. There’s no doubting the work’s structural complexity and workmanship; it’s the quality and inspiration of Schmidt’s musical ideas that may explain why it’s received only seven recordings.
That and the fact that Schmidt followed the piece with an uncompleted paean to Hitler’s Germany (Deutsche Auferstehung: German Resurrection) based on an Oskar Dietrich text that actually concludes: “We want to see our Führer / We thank our Führer / Sieg Heil!” The Roman Catholic Schmidt, who described himself as a “deeply religious man,” died seven months before Hitler unleashed his own annihilating warriors and an Armageddon that gave the Book of Revelation a run for its money.
Luisi — who calls the oratorio “one of the most important works of the 20th century” — has long championed Schmidt’s work, performing it in Vienna, Denmark, Spain, and Dallas in recent years. That it would eventually be programmed by his Japan orchestra was a fait accompli.
The Tokyo Symphony’s concurrent scheduling seems to have evolved from having given the work’s Japanese premiere in 1977, from the reputation the TSO established for unusual programming under its previous music director, Jonathan Nott, and from Viotti’s experience singing the piece as a chorus member 16 years ago in Austria. A topical significance may also have been at play: Unstable times lend themselves to apocalyptic programming.
Using a condensed New Testament text, Schmidt divided the sprawling, fantastical work into three parts: a prologue by Saint John, the opening of the first six seals (featuring the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the extermination of the human race), and, in Part II (which followed an intermission for the TSO but unfolded uninterrupted for the NHK), the spiritual battle between heaven and evil (“Seventh Seal”), the establishment of God’s kingdom, and St. John’s epilogue. Featured twice in each of the oratorio’s two parts are extended organ solos, which Mari Ohki delivered with the TSO with simply commanding force, including a let-‘er-rip 16th-note fusillade in the “Fifth Seal” section.
Sharing only a choral director — Tomihira Kyohei prepared both the NHK and TSO’s separate choruses — the two orchestras took different approaches. While Luisi and the NHK used Japanese singers for four of the six solo parts — the narrator, Saint John (tenor), the Voice of God (bass), and four voices filling multiple roles, mostly positioned stage right front — the TSO turned to Europeans: Maximilian Schmitt (John/Johannes) near the tuba stage left, Franz-Josef Selig (God) center stage between the chorus and the organ pipes, and the four multi-role soloists together between the strings and the organ console, stage right.
Schmitt brought a supple, richly emotive voice with versatile range to this demanding and central heldentenor role, the witness and communicant of God’s end-of-times revelation. Schmidt’s decision to compose for a younger voice, rather than for the octogenarian John, enabled Schmitt to inject his key role — which narrates events but is also given the first and last word — with emotional accessibility and dramatic presence.
The aptly named Selig (“blessed”), who studied sacred music at the University of Cologne, bestowed the appropriate stentorian gravitas on the character who, though given only three moments, must communicate divine imprimatur.
Bass-baritone Krešimir Stražanac was floridly splendid in roles ranging from the Black Rider to the elder, a survivor, and one of the four Living Creatures. For his parts, tenor Patrick Grahl brought an agile instrument and vigorous vocal personality to his changing personae (Living Creature, survivor, angel).
Mezzo-soprano Catriona Morison and soprano Christina Landshamer were superb in parts deliberately composed to offset the violence and destruction with a feminine balm, especially in the powerful mother-daughter duet during the Black Horse/famine episode (“Third Seal”).
But without question, the piece’s sheer force and the evening’s most impressive contribution belonged to the 150-strong chorus, which, singing without scores in crisp unison and crystalline German, produced an overwhelming volume and effortlessly rendered Schmidt’s quadruple fugue in Part II (“Summons to the Last Judgement”). Given that the NHK’s chorus on Sept. 12 (specifically, the New National Theatre Chorus) numbered only 120, for sonic presence the Tokyo Symphony Chorus earned the crown. Following the quadruple fugue, the 60-plus members of the TSO’s male chorus gave an especially rapt reading of the a cappella Gregorian chant-like “Wir danken dir” section to set up John’s triumphant epilogue.
Presiding capably, never showily, over this sonic army was the Swiss-born Viotti, in his first year as TSO’s fourth music director, who gave no hint that this was his first leadership of Schmidt’s piece. (One observer spotted him in the audience at Luisi/NHK’s performance the week before.) Viotti unleashed electrifying torque when Schmidt flips the switch from confident A major to plaintive A minor and then shocks the listener further with the ferocious musical violence accompanying the annihilating Warriors (“Second Seal”). The TSO’s agile and unified string section, characterful woodwinds, and heaven-pealing trumpets had this challenging work’s measure.
If Viotti and Luisi fail to convince that Schmidt’s late work is a neglected masterpiece, they do persuade that it deserves some foothold in the repertoire and future exploration of its unique challenges. That is no mean feat.
