The Greek philosopher Epicurus argued that religion instilled a terror of death and eternal punishment in its adherents. It would seem that Gabriel Fauré, though a fervent Catholic, thought on similar lines: when he came to write his Requiem in 1888, he removed the prospect of damnation from Christian eschatology by jettisoning the bulk of the text of the Dies Irae. The end result avoids apocalyptic cataclysm and focuses on consolation - and can lead to terrible drawbacks in performance, as conductor after conductor laces Fauré's pacific vision with cloying sentimentality.
Antonio Pappano chose it as the main work in the second of his London Symphony Orchestra concerts, and, as might be expected, subjected it to a drastic rethink, resulting in the most intense performance I've ever heard. Saccharine piety is replaced by a dramatic conflict between austerity and sensuousness. Sorrowing humanity seems trapped in ritual lamentation, surrounded by sparse orchestral textures. The Offertorium gives us a glimpse of souls in Purgatory hovering between light and darkness. The pleasures of Paradise are ushered in with shimmering tone colours.
More than once you're aware of Fauré's debt to Brahms's Requiem: the comparable withdrawal of the upper strings to darken the texture in moments of anguish; the similar antithetical deployment of baritone and soprano soloists to represent human vulnerability. Simon Keenleyside's utterances combine lyricism with a declamatory sensuality. Dorothea Röschmann's extraordinary soprano seems poised angelically in the air. The choral singing is rapt and eloquent. Pappano conducts without a baton, his hands slowly unfurling with infinite beauty and grace.
Before the interval, he presented us with the Symphonie Liturgique by the French-Swiss composer Arthur Honegger. Written in 1946, it might have been nicknamed "Apocalypse Now" for it equates the second world war with God's unleashing of His wrath upon mankind. Either you can cope with its sentiments or you can't, though it remains a formidable, if flawed score.
Pappano can't quite disguise the fact that the slow movement goes on far too long and repeats its material once too often. The outer sections are terrifying, however. The first movement, all flaring brass, shrieking woodwind and relentless ostinati, is Hell in sound. The finale is a pulverising march that depicts mankind turned into a robotic killing machine. It's scary stuff and a tour de force for both Pappano and the LSO, who perform it to perfection.
