Cover image: Verdi Requiem at Winthrop Hall. Supplied

Verdi Requiem

Perth Symphonic Chorus
Perth Philharmonic Orchestra

Saturday 6 September 2025

Listening to a Mass for the Dead is, when you think about it, an unusual thing to do for fun on a Saturday night in 2025.

Verdi’s Messa da Requiem was first performed on 22 May 1874 at the Church of San Marco in Milan to commemorate Italy’s literary icon Alessandro Manzoni, and included a full Catholic Mass. At the time, Verdi was famously criticised: some objected to his use of female soloists in a church setting, others to the work’s shamelessly operatic nature but just three days later, it was performed again at La Scala, (the music only, no Mass) with the same star opera singers, signalling the 19th-century rise of sacred music as entertainment.

And tonight’s concert by the Perth Symphonic Chorus and the Perth Philharmonic Orchestra was entertainment at its best.

Just like the original, it also boasted a stellar line-up of operatic talent and right from Paul O’Neill’s heroic tenor entry in the opening prayer of the Kyrie, through the final gasp of soprano Naomi Johns and the Perth Symphonic Chorus in the Libera me with its desperate plea for deliverance. Who will claim the soul of the departed? When the famous Dies Irae is unleashed by the powerful chorus and the impressive Perth Philharmonic Orchestra, it seems as though the soul in question has certainly been consigned to the flames.

Under the baton of conductor James Pratt the sound is frenzied, furious, and the gorgeous acoustics of Winthrop Hall are reverberating with a sonic avalanche, only dying down to make way for the eerie “trumpets of doom” in surround sound. Thrilling stuff!

Veteran bass James Clayton sounded completely at home in this repertoire; his delivery was precise and detailed throughout, and his sublime Confutatis convinced us that peace and comfort will be granted…until the chorus smashes back in with more wrath. Other highlights included the Lacrymosa, with the warmth of Ashlyn Tymms’ stunning mezzo-soprano leading the mournful lines into its beautiful a cappella section; O’Neill’s soaring, Italianate Ingemisco; and Johns’ many heavenly, floated high notes which poured out like liquid silver.

Almost all of the treacherous corners of this notoriously tricky piece were negotiated with seeming ease. The chorus tackled the fearsome fugue of the Sanctus with impressive precision, Pratt’s clear conducting keeping them firmly in check. 

One might expect the evening to end with the Lux aeterna, its shimmering strings accompanied by a hint of menace from Clayton, some pleading desperation from O’Neill, and Tymms’ expressive reassurance of eternal light makes it seem as if death would not be too bad! But it is not to be: the avenging soprano returns in the dramatic Libera me, giving Johns a chance to show her equally impressive lower register. As the music dies away into a final, almost whispered restatement of Libera me, the conclusion feels unresolved and unsettling. Although the final major chord offers a glimmer of hope of heading to heaven rather than hell, by that time we are almost too wrung out to care. 

Meanwhile, across town, drama of a very different kind was unfolding. Tonight’s performance turned out to be a requiem for the Dockers too and I, for one, was glad to have chosen the drama of Verdi and the warmth of the concert hall over a drafty oval and the heartbreak of sport.