Gioacchino Rossini (1792-1868)
Petite messe solennelle
Dorothee Mields (soprano)
Nicole Pieper (mezzo-soprano)
Tobias Hunger (tenor)
Felix Schwandtke (bass)
Tobias Koch (piano)
Christian Gerharz (harmonium)
Rheinische Kantorei
Edzard Burchards (conductor)
rec. live, 22/23 August 2016, Klosterbasilka, Festival Alte Musik Knechtsteden
cpo 555 232-2 [2 CDs: 87]

Rossini’s Petite messe solennelle—a tongue-in-cheek title if there ever was one—has long divided opinion amongst music lovers. There are two schools of thought that have existed alongside one another since the premiere in 1864. Roughly put, the first school believes that the work is an elephantine piece of blasphemous operatic hokum. The second believes that it is a deeply moving monument of sacred music.

Anti-Petite partisans generally cite Rossini’s title and his campy comments strewn throughout the manuscript as an indicator of his intentions in the piece. One can read what he scrawled as a dedication, addressing “Good God,” as either heartfelt or saucy: “La voilà terminée cette pauvre petite Messe. Est-ce bien de la Musique Sacrée que je viens de faire ou bien de la Sacrée Musique? J’étais né pour l’Opéra Buffa, tu le sais bien. Peu de Science un peu de cœur tout est là. Soit donc Bon, et accorde moi Le Paradis.” (“There it is, this poor little Mass is finished. Is it truly Sacred Music that I have just made, or rather Sacrilegious Music? I was born for Opera Buffa, as you well know. A little technique, a little heart, that’s all there is. So be good, and grant me Paradise.”)

Pro-Petite listeners connect with the music on an emotional level, regardless of what the composer may have felt. This is music of great power and conviction, something that may have embarrassed the composer of Barbiere, leading to his self-deprecatory comments. It is very difficult to hear the heartrending music of the Crucifixus, Agnus Dei, etc. and think that the composer was just having a laugh. Rossini is definitely guilty of understatement regarding technique; from a compositional standpoint, the work is a masterpiece. Although no one ever automatically thinks of the Swan of Pesaro when it comes to counterpoint, the fugue at the end of the Credo is second to none. Rossini’s use of rhythm throughout the mass is equally masterful, from the syncopations of the initial Kyrie to the varied note lengths of the soloist, choir members and orchestra in the final “Dona nobis pacem” and the incredible rhythmic texture they weave. And who would argue about the composer’s ability to create memorable, sweeping Italianate melodies? If it isn’t obvious, I come down firmly in camp two; the Petite Messe Solennelle is a stunning devotional masterwork.

The original version of the work was orchestrated for a S/A/T/B choir (two voices to a part), four soloists, two pianos, and harmonium. Rossini later orchestrated the piece, though the orchestration was not premiered until after his death. For this recording, the pianist Tobias Koch created a composite piano part from the two separate parts, and thus the recording only features a single pianist and harmonium. The piano used is identified as an Érard and sounds as if it is a period instrument. The choir is small, two voices to a part as originally performed. Those who love the piece usually prefer either the original version or the orchestrated version. I will confess that my preference is for the orchestral version, but the piece is so good that any opportunity to experience it is a pleasure.

Whether you enjoy this new recording from CPO will come down to scale. Do you require a massive choir, or will a two-to-a-part choir singing with sparse vibrato work for you? Is your preference for big operatic solo voices, or for period music Baroque-style voices who often use vibrato as an ornament rather than a constant feature? If you need the “go big or go home” approach, then pack your bags. Burchards’s take on the score is swift and lean. It sounds like a small group, but ensemble, dynamics, and articulations are well-coordinated and precise. I miss the energy of a larger group in moments like the initial entrance of the Gloria and in the fugue.

The soloists all sing with excellent intonation, but at one point or another they all suffer from the habit of beginning sustained pitches without vibrato, then adding it in a second or two later. This can work as an occasional ornament, but it becomes tiresome with constant application. As with the choir, the multi-voice movements work well in terms of ensemble and precision of dynamics and articulations. Individual moments for the soloists can be quite lovely. Soprano Dorothee Mields sings a truly beautiful Crucifixus, and tenor Tobias Hunger’s Domine Deus has a jaunty swing to it, though his voice sounds several sizes too small coming to the movement from the likes of Caruso or even Charles Kullmann. The ensemble coordination and matched timbres of Mields and mezzo Nicole Pieper in the “Qui tollis” section of the Gloria is impressive. Pieper’s final Agnus Dei lacks the punch it needs to succeed.

Ultimately, if one wants to seek out a performance of the work in its original pared-down incarnation, I think listeners are better served by the Robert King-led performance on Hyperion. There is an overall vigor to the performance that greatly suits the score; King’s reading is equally swift as this one, but has more heft to it. One also hears much less of the stop/start vibrato style. The French pronunciation of ecclesiastical Latin takes some getting used to, but it’s a small price to pay for the intense performance. If you are in the market for an orchestral Petite Messe and can put up with “historical” sound, the Barbirolli Easter 1939 performance is the one to get.  Although Leonard Warren and Charles Kullmann excel in the male solo roles, it is Ria Ginster and Bruna Castagna who sell the performance; in their capable hands, Rossini’s music soars with operatic intensity, yet convinces as truly devotional music.

There are unfortunately some proofreading lapses here. On the back cover, the “Total Time” for two CDs is listed as 62’03” – in reality, the two discs add up to roughly 87 minutes of playing time. In the English translation of the German notes, a boo-boo is made that should have been caught. The German reads “Diese reduzierte Urversion hat Rossini der Orchesterfassung vorgezogen, die er selbst noch 1867, kurz vo seinem Tod erstellt.” (“Rossini preferred this reduced original version to the orchestral version, which he himself created in 1867, shortly before his death.”) The translation in the booklet reads “Rossini preferred this reduced original version to the orchestral version, which he himself arranged shortly before his death in 1867.” One could read this correctly, but there is a greater chance that the English-speaking reader will understand this as placing the composer’s death in 1867.

Richard Masters

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