Memento mori: An AIDS Requiem
James Adler
TTBB; S, M-S, T, B soli; orchestra
Lawson-Gould (Alfred, agent), full score and choral score
available on rental
Premiered last April by the Atlanta Gay Men's Chorus, James Adler's Memento mori: An AIDS Requiem is a powerful and wrenching work in which traditional Latin, Hebrew, and English sacred texts exist side by side (and, at times, simultaneously) with contemporary texts by Quentin Crisp and "personal prose and poetry by and about people with AIDS." Adler has created a musical setting for these emotionally wrought texts that conveys horror, despair, frustration, and, ultimately, hope, without lapsing into pathos or melodrama. It is a work that demands an outstanding men's chorus and gifted soloists to handle its musical complexities. The language is tonal and ranges from purely traditional melodies and harmonic progressions to highly dissonant passages, polytonality, and distant key relationships. All four voice parts use the extremes of their ranges, although the overall tessituras should not be uncomfortable for a mature male choir. Divisi occurs in all parts.
There are nine movements in this sixty-five-minute work. The opening movement begins with the traditional "requiem aeterman" text, set in chantlike motion and building to a largely homophonic hymn of praise at "te decet hymnus." Following a return to the "requiem" text and a gradual decrescendo, the mezzo-soprano soloist enters with Crisp's Now I Am Dead, a melodic and mournful evocation of death featuring expressive orchestral interludes. Throughout the work Adler reserves some of his finest writing for the mezzo. The choir returns with "requiem aeternam" and "Kyrie eleison" at the close of the movement.
The "Dies irae" (movement two) is an enormous challenge, employing rapid, imitative writing among the basses and baritones in four-part divisi, a forceful and jagged statement of the text by the tenors punctuated by sudden dissonances in the orchestra, two, four-voice choirs singing organum-like chords antiphonally and in two different keys, and a fugue on the text "judex ergo cum sedebit." In keeping with the nature of its text, the movement ends almost violently, with a string of b1-flats from the first tenors.
The third movement, "Yizkor (Remembrance)," utilizes a non-Western tonal scheme (E is the tonal center; F and C are natural, but G is sharp). The baritone soloist sings the traditional Hebrew text as the choir echos the text in English. The baritone part is in the highly ornamented style of a Jewish cantor; the writing for the choir is more straightforward. The choir is in unison or two parts throughout this movement, creating a transparent texture in which orchestra and cantor are highlighted.
Movement four, "The Wounded (Ingemisco)," turns the textual focus from the dead to those who remain alive. In this remarkable poem Crisp asks, "What shall we say, who cringed and lived, / to those who fought and died, / and what excuses shall we give?" The poem mourns the poet's (and, by implication, the audience's) inability to hide from the guily of living while others die or to provide consolation, hope, or words "that will assuage . . . their rage, that it was vain." Adler provides a moving setting for this remarkable poetry, for the mezzo-soprano soloist supported by a TTBB octet.
This movement leads into the unaccompanied tutti opening of the "Lacrymosa," in chorale style. This traditional Latin passage is abruptly juxtaposed with a contemporary passage from an unfinished play by Philip Justin Smith describing the death of his lover. The passage is "spoken dramatically" by the baritone soloist. Adler's notes encourage the soloist to "move about the stage" as the monologue proceeds, as the orchestra accompanies and punctuates. This stark and graphic passage is the darkest moment in the work.
This low point is followed by the high point of the work: movement six, "Sanctus-Holy-Kadosh." It is an uplifting and joyous hymn of praise in three languages in which all four parts are taken into their high registers as the work builds to a glorious "hosanna." The soprano soloist is feature in this movement, ending on a series of fortissimo b2-flats. The traditional "Pie Jesu," set in lovely lyric fashion for the mezzo-soprano, is movement seven, and in many ways seems a complement to the despair of the text sung by the mezzo-soprano in movement four. Perhaps the answer to Crisp's question, "What shall we say . . . what can we do" is found in the prayer for eternal rest in this movement.
Movement eight, "Lux aeterna," features the tenor soloist, who rises to b1-flat and c2 at a very soft dynamic level. A lovely passage for alto flute leads into the soprano soloist's singing words by Denise A. Stokes describing her experience at the October 1992 AIDS March on Washington. The parallel between the "eternal light" of the Latin text and the imagery of candlelight described by Stokes is a striking one.
The final movement, "Survival," begins again with a spoken passage for the baritone. The text by Bill Weaver begins, "I am weary of waking every day to the fact of AIDS," but becomes more hopeful as it proceeds. The chorus joins the baritone soloist on the text "We will affirm life." A statement of the Latin "chorus angelorum" text heard in movement six leads to a final "requiem aeternam" passage for the choir and soprano soloist (taken briefly to a d3-flat). The work ends quietly, prayerfully, and hopefully.
This remarkable work is not for every choir, but those who undertake it will be stirred by its content and by Adler's sensitive setting. The orchestra parts (twenty-three to twenty-seven players) are available on rental from the publisher with the full score. Lawson-Gould has also published two movements as separate octavos, "The Wounded (Ingemisco)" (52818, $1.25) and "Pie Jesu" (52819, $1.25), as well as Adler's adaptation of the "Sanctus-Holy-Kadosh" for SATB choir with soprano solo (52820, $1.50). All three movements stand on their own quite nicely.
Corydon J. Carlson