S2.E44. Joy, Drama, Solace. Von Suppe Light Cavalry Overture, Tchaikovsky 6th Symphony, Verdi Libera Me.

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Welcome back to Perfect Pitch with Nick Healy Hutchinson and his fresh approach to the world of classical music. Whether you're an expert or a beginner, old or young, Perfect Pitch has something for everyone.

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Let's get things underway today with something high-spirited and easy on the ear. If I'm absolutely honest, I've always felt that the music of the 18th-century Austro-Hungarian composer Franson Supe had to be verging on the kitsch. That's a label which opens me to the charge of being a classical music snob, which I hope by now you'll know I'm not. As the son of a Hungarian mother, the more accessible music of the Strauss family was never far away. And I'm more than happy to defend their output. Nor has there been any discernible rush to change that. But some of the overtures to these operas have stood the test of time, and it's these that have kept his name from falling into obscurity. The light cavalry is one such. Almost out of context, there's also a moody passage on the strings, which could quite easily come out of a bronze hunger rhapsody. As a Hungarian, I expect George Scholte fancied himself as something of an authority on this music. But I think he must have had another appointment to get to after this session in the recording studio. The one we've just listened to took seven and a half minutes, and Scholte manages to shave off over one and a half minutes of that with the Vienna Philharmonic. No cavalry in the world is ever going to keep up with this. From the moment Chaikovsky died just nine days after conducting his last symphony, his sixth, there's been no end of speculation about the contextual circumstances. There's little evidence to support those who claim it's some kind of warning of his pending demise, but the highly unusual decision to have a slow and manifestly melancholic moment for its finale only served to enhance the gossip. Much less attention is given to the fact that according to his brother he was in very high spirits at the time and had actually turned down the chance to compose a requiem, saying that he was in no mood for such an undertaking. But that doesn't make such good press, does it? We're going to listen to the penultimate moment, the Allegro Molto Vivaci. It's just the kind of music which fits Shulti's passionate approach with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Its emphatic closing bars have tricked many an audience into thinking it's the end of the symphony, bringing an instinctive release of applause. It's not hard to see why. And why not anyway? Because I notice it not being picked up by new listeners yet, and I can't believe that anyone who's heard it before will object. If you're familiar with Verdi's Requiem, you'll also know that it's the dear's earie which gets more airtime than any other part. That's all fine and dandy because it's very loud and popular and so on. But it's also a great shame. It's a monumental work requiring large choral forces and four soloists. Wherever you listen, it's hard to imagine that the closing passage A Libera May Free Me from Eternal Death won't resonate with you somehow. The more so for this perfectly sublime singing. Mirella Freny had one of those truly standout voices. It's what follows that stands framey out from any other I've heard, live or on a recording. A solo oboe heralds the beginning of five minutes of a singing masterclass. Verdi closes his section with two words a requiem and a requiem. And it's here where he makes an astonishing demand on his soloist. The second requiem is an octave leap eight notes from a B flat to a high B flat. That's one and a half notes lower than the infamous top C. As if that wasn't hard enough on its own. Which is almost the equivalent of a whisper. Very few people achieve both the leap and the level of quietness, and it's always a nerdy moment in a live performance. In fact, I'm Never had it done. And having reached the note of the end of the trade. If you think I'm picking it up a bit, you'd be right. But I bet you appreciate that still more. But I imagine it's a great deal easier for being able to climb our way there. And being able to belt it out with maximum volume. The Liber Armee from Verdes Requiem is sung here by Mirella Freny with the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra and Choir conducted by Herbert von Carrianne.

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