Without question or reservation my favorite musical work of all time is Ein deutsches Requiem by my favorite composer Johannes Brahms.

It has been my pleasure to have numerous opportunities to particpate in this magnificent statement of music and faith crafted by Brahms. First I participated as a singer, later as a person preparing the choir for another conductor, and finally, on two separate occasions, as conductor.

As you might guess by now – one of my favorite recordings of this masterpiece is conducted by Robert Shaw leading the orchestra and chorus of the Atlanta Symphony.

The other one is the one linked to this post – a complete recording (one hour and almost nineteen minutes) recorded in Vienna and conducted by Herbert von Karajan (1908-1989). My love of this recording is based on two very important things – I believe that Karahan’s interpretation completely captures the intentions of the composer – full of emotion and restraint – and – watching von Karajan conduct provides an exquisite seminar in manual conducting gestures – again – full of emotion and restraint.

Two interesting side notes – notice that not only does von Karajan not use a score – but also – that the singers are all singing from memory. Wow! that is impressive even if German is your first and native language.

Also – a personal reflection – when I was serving in the United States Air Force in the early 1970s and was stationed with the European Command Air Force Band in Wiesbaden, Germany I was privileged to attend a performance by the Berlin Philharmonic conducted by Maestro von Karajan at the State Theater and Opera House in Wiesbaden. One of the major items on the program was one of the symphonies by Brahms – again I experienced a mix of great emotion combined with significant and elegant restrain.

The following is from the Introduction to a biography of Maestro von Karajan by Paul Robinson which fully captures my memory of being present when von Karajan led the Berlin Philharmonic in one of the most memorable musical experiences of my life:

“When the players of the Berlin Philharmonic had finished tuning, a breathless silence fell over the audience; the orchestra, too, seemed tense and expectant. Then the conductor appeared, walking slowly from the back of the orchestra to the podium. The whole orchestra rose as one in a silent gesture of respect. The audience broke into sustained applause of shattering intensity. By the time the conductor mounted the podium to take a bow, shouts and whistles had broken out. Before any inkling of his musicianship could be discerned, this conductor had excited his audience the way only a great actor can before he utters a line.

But then, before the applause could die, he was into the music. With a downbeat of breathtaking authority and grace the symphony was underway. And throughout the long symphony the conductor stood as if rooted to the spot, with only his arms in motion. He conducted as if in a trance, his eyes closed, his handsome, rough-hewn features taut with nervous energy. With only the slightest gesture the orchestra would surge with a fortissimo that made one’s hair stand on end. Without any knee-bends or fingers to lips, the conductor reduced the sound of the orchestra to the merest whisper. So rarely did this man give any of the usual cues that he seemed to be conducting his own invisible orchestra. Yet there was no doubt that this extraordinary realization of the symphony was his creation. The performance was prepared to perfection and executed with the utmost concentration and commitment. Rarely had one ever seen professional musicians play with such involvement. In some mysterious way this man was able to galvanize orchestra and audience alike and bring them to give their very best. And throughout the performanc of the symphony nothing existed for either conductor or players except the experience of the composer’s compelling vision.

The conductor was Herbert von Karajan.” (3-4)*

Here is the link to this stunning presentation: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMMWgXPyveg

*Robinson, Paul. Karajan. London: Macdonald and Jane’s, 1975.