Is Leonard Bernstein's "Mass" finally getting the respect it deserves?
Maybe. Last fall, Bernstein protege Marin Alsop led the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra in performances of this audaciously eclectic "Theatre piece for Singers, Players and Dancers" that generated large, enthusiastic crowds in Baltimore, Washington and New York.
There were glowing notices in most of the press, too, with little of the dismissive attitude that greeted the 1971 premiere of "Mass" at the opening of the Kennedy Center. Today, the genre-crossing ingenuity of Bernstein's creation seems more impressive than ever. So does the breadth of his vision, the way he fuses the hope, wonder and, yes, theatricality of the Roman Catholic liturgy into a Lenny-style bearhug of universal tolerance and peace.
Alsop and company recorded "Mass" at Meyerhoff Symphony Hall in October, and the two-CD set is being released today on the Naxos label - coincidentally, this would have been the composer's 91st birthday. (iTunes made the product available for download two weeks earlier.)
After Bernstein's own "Mass" recording from 1971, it took until 2004 for another version to appear, a disappointing Harmonia Mundi issue with the late Jerry Hadley as Celebrant and Kent Nagano conducting.
Remarkably, this year has seen two "Mass" releases. The BSO's was preceded a few months ago by a Chandos CD with Kristjian J?rvi conducting the Tonk?nstler-Orchester Nieder?sterreich (State Orchestra of Lower Austria).
Neither of the 2009 recordings will displace the Bernstein benchmark, but both honor the score in admirable fashion. Ultimately, at the risk of being charged with hometown cheerleading, I have to give the decisive edge to Alsop and company.
The BSO recording has an electric charge throughout and boasts consistently vivid work from vocal and instrumental forces alike. Above all, there's the advantage of a strikingly distinctive Celebrant in Jubilant Sykes. The baritone phrases throughout with an immediacy and naturalness that draws the listener into a truly redemptive experience.
He sculpts the pop-idiom passages in disarming fashion, where more opera-centric soloists on the other recordings can sound a little stiff at times. And he achieves mesmerizing intensity in the daunting mad scene, "Things Get Broken," when the Celebrant undergoes a crisis of faith that stuns and eventually refocuses his congregation. I'm convinced Bernstein would have considered Sykes a godsend (so to speak).
