Requiem for America review – Brent Michael Davids gives an unseen voice in his new fast-paced work | Classical music

Ain celebration of the 250th anniversary of US independence, Brent Michael Davids‘ Requiem for America brings about a sudden and important change. The lyrics, “Singing of the Invisible People”, talk about the colonization of North America and the systematic annihilation of its people. We hear no Latin mass written; instead Davids, a composer of Mohican heritage, has created primary documents: newspaper articles, war reports, telegrams, rare stories from those who survived the massacre. It is, as Davids explains, both a calculation and a reminder: it should be amazing, and it is.

Perhaps it’s no surprise that the show had to take place outside the US; However, another project is planned in Boston in November, the longest version. Here many filled 90 minutes with many musicians: the BBC Symphony Orchestra and the Chorus, eight strong Native American singers, four singers singing as if following the Requiem tradition – and, for director Teddy Abrams on the right, mezzo-soprano Wallis Giunta, a late standout who sang the Narrator with great emotion, and Davids himself, playing a Native American flute.

In many groups of 15, Giunta would begin to explain the story, accompanied by Davids flute, before handing it over – to the choir, or to one of the soloists, taking a certain character. Davids music is structured in form, deeply recorded and noisy, but still allows the voice to be heard.

What the voice says is hard to listen to. We hear from the boy hiding under the cabin where the massacre took place, watching the blood run down the wood; the healer recounts how the army shot an unarmed group of Lakota families; another group speaks strongly of the long journey of death, the Narrator sings the miles, the singers list the dead. It is remarkable how early it was said that all this was the will of God; the choir sang beautifully in the hymns, which are used wonderfully.

There are no heroes. Teddy Roosevelt, given a stentorian voice by Robert Murray, comes off badly, but the most disappointing is the writer L Frank Baum, who in a newspaper article seems to argue at the same time that Native Americans and force was used but the only way for the colonists to be safe was to exterminate them.

Finally, after many atrocities described, comes a song to affirm the endurance of the Indians: we are still here. Here’s a Native American choral song that takes over, the rest of the voices singing happily, before the music fades into birdsong led by four bamboo twitters – small instruments strung on strings by the singers and Narrator. It is the hopeful end of a heavy, urgent, important work.