CD: Jeremy Summerly/Oxford Camerata, Oxford Schola Cantorum, various soloists: Faure: Requiem (Naxos)

Over the past few years, I've made a point of attending the National Memorial Day Concert on the grounds of the Capitol. This year was an exception, though I did watch it on TV. I know well what's coming each time: There will be dramatic readings of wartime memoirs by various actors, while the National Symphony plays Elgar's "Nimrod" from The Enigma Variations. All that is interspersed with music from various genres (One year we even had Renee Fleming!) and of course the armed forces medley, at which veterans and active-duty service members rise to their feet. This rousing sequence invariably follows the quieter, heart-rending reflections on war and sacrifice.

In all, the event is often entertainment blended with public expressions of love, grief, and gratitude. It's difficult for me to come away without feeling inspired and moved -- and also a bit voyeuristic.

But it does remind us that this holiday always was and is about those who serve. Until fairly recently, the National Memorial Day Concert acknowledged a lone World War I veteran in attendance. It's likely that custom is gone forever. However, during my childhood, the World War I veterans were not only still present but marching in the town Memorial Day parade, and the World War II vets were filling the suburbs with their growing families. Now even the latter vets are leaving us in great numbers.

As for the vulnerability of those serving today, each morning's newspaper brings fresh reasons for our grief.

I spent part of Memorial Day itself touring the National Cathedral with friends from South Carolina, and there too were unavoidable reminders of the costs of war -- the tombs, the memorial plaques, the stained glass windows, the depictions of the Last Judgment. Beyond all that, in the midst of our guided tour, we were called upon to pause as a public prayer for peace and reconciliation was offered -- a practice, apparently, that the cathedral observes around the clock.

In that spirit, it would have been appropriate for me to feature Benjamin Britten's War Requiem, given its antiwar sentiments and emphasis on reconciliation. I chose, however, the brief, spare Requiem by Gabriel Faure, not ruling out the Britten for a later date.

Faure's Requiem is a small work, performed in slightly over 30 minutes, and as such usually is issued with other works on CD. Brief though it is, the Requiem has considerable emotional and aesthetic power.

You might well accuse me of morbidity for selecting a work that is, after all, a service for the departed. Read the translations of the texts and you will find heart-rending appeals to God for mercy and redemption. Musically, however, Faure concludes the work not merely with a sense of hope but also of glory itself.

There are any number of recordings of the various versions of the Requiem, and your first thought may be to select a CD based on the number of recognizable names. But given that and the performances vary in tone, tempo, and conception, to say nothing of accompanying material, it's best to look at each as a whole.

The delicate beauty and simplicity of the performances on the Naxos recording would be enough to recommend it, but the inclusion of several other beautifully meditative works (Messe Basse, Cantique de Jean Racine, etc.) means approximately one hour of music.

The performance themselves are nicely balanced in terms of vocals and orchestration, with nothing overwrought. I must say I prefer the Nicholas Gedge's restraint on "Libera Me" to the ominous, darker tone some bass-baritones employ. The rather tender performance of "In Paradisum" invokes heavenly hosts as well as anything you are likely to hear. In short, this is a recording to leave you not only with hope but perhaps with a measure of serenity as well.

May there be peace on Earth.

CD: Chanticleer: And on Earth, Peace: A Chanticleer Mass

When it comes to our choices in music, books, or movies, we're always in danger of seeking safety, familiarity, even repetition over a real challenge or new experience. It's been said you can spend a lifetime essentially reading the same novel, watching the same film, and listening to the same music, no matter how often the titles change.

The other danger is becoming numb to reality and the meaning behind our daily rituals and routines, even down to our work, prayers, and relationships. One of my friends has long been encouraging me to live in in the moment, and this past weekend I had at least two synchronistic conversations with cousins who brought up the importance of optimism. All this has left me with a renewed appreciation of the role of attitude.

So when I learned the latest Chanticleer album was a reworking of the Catholic mass and, in some respects, a departure from its fundamentals, it seemed another call to reexamine my perspective.

To get in the proper frame of mind, I played a CD by the American countertenor David Daniels. Countertenor solos are not my usual fare, but since Chanticleer, like the King's Singers, features countertenors in its ensemble, I wanted some time to reflect on male voices in that range.

You see, when it comes to choral performances, I have a decided preference for the adult female voices over, for instance, young trebles. Perhaps it's the residual effect of the angriest put-down my university choral instructor hurled at the sopranos when we failed, as he put it, to produce a womanly tone: "You sound like the Vienna Boys' Choir!"

So it's with reluctance that I surrender alto and soprano parts to the males. I have no problem with Frederica von Stade in Mozartean trouser roles, but anything that smacks of shutting the door to women (or, worse, consigning men to the castrati life!) makes me a tad nervous.

That is not to say that it's a penance to listen to Chanticleer, countertenors and all. On the contrary, the group won me over on initial hearings. For example, their Magnificat album, devoted to musical compositions in honor of Mary, the mother of Jesus, was a breath-takingly beautiful performance of works from several centuries. Listen to the way the voices blend and complement each other and suddenly the question of gender is moot.

This latest project, And on Earth, Peace, is also compelling, but for different reasons. On the one hand, you'll find Gregorian chant and Renaissance polyphony, familiar from previous albums. Chanticleer does justice to the spare beauty of the one and the glorious complexity of the other.

Beyond that, however, there are definite surprises with texts and music. The work was commissioned as a mass with the traditional prayers of penitence, reaffirmation, praise, and supplication, but with a twist: the Gloria, from Turkish composer Kamran Ince, takes its text from the Sufi poet Rumi, and Shulamit Ran's Credo reflects the core principles of the Jewish faith. As in recent projects by Montserrat Figueras and others, this album subtly unites the three Abrahamic faiths via text and music.

Those are by no means the last daring moves. Michael McGlynn contributes a Celtic-influenced Agnus Dei ("Lamb of God"), perhaps even veering off into sean nos singing, if I'm not mistaken. Douglas Cuomo, best known for, of all things, the theme music to Sex and the City, composed the Kyrie, a prayer of penitence, an appeal to God's mercy.

Ivan Moody's Sanctus subtly reflects the Greek Orthodox theology, rather than taking a purely Roman Catholic standpoint.

In short, this is a challenging album, by no means a predictable journey, but definitely a showcase for the talents of Chanticleer, and a jumping-off point for perspectives on faith.

SACD: Montserrat Figueras with various artists: Lux Feminae, 900-1600: Songs of the Universal Feminine

Sometimes I think I opened my Netflix account mainly to catch up with all the directors who are great storytellers but don't get any love from my local cineplex. First I ordered home some Rodrigo Garcia, followed that up with the continuation of my decades-long John Sayles screening, and then had Daniele Thompson's La Buche for Christmas. After that I went into a Nicole Holofcener phase. As I write this, I'm halfway through Rosanna Arquette's Searching for Debra Winger.

The common denominator of all the above is a devotion to storytelling in which women and life's uncomfortable truths play a leading role. Some of you may be grumbling that this is eat-your-vegetables cinema -- Where are the car chases? Where are the special effects? -- but I would argue that movies always were about the story, the people, the meaning of life.

In fact, I could make the case that this as good a time as any to contemplate the output of creative women. Our Olsson's CD bins contain ample evidence of the legacy of vocalists such as Arleen Auger and Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. Marin Alsop has taken up the baton at the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. And if you pop into various arts cinemas in the DC area, you're likely to encounter several new films written and directed by women: Away from Her, by 28-year-old Canadian actress Sarah Polley; Waitress, by New York native Adrienne Shelly; and Avenue Montaigne, which director Daniele Thompson co-wrote with her son.

All of this was humming through my mind as I contemplated Montserrat Figueras's recent Lux Feminae, an astonishing project focused on the music of medieval and Renaissance Spain, and springing from the traditions of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

But don't assume that the Catalan soprano has a dry little interfaith history lesson in store for you. Rather, Lux Feminae is an emotional pilgrimage of woman in all her varied roles -- in nurturing, in grief, in love, in worship. The texts, both from anonymous sources and such influential figures as Saint Teresa of Avila, possess remarkable breadth, extending from divine visions and transcendent love to the more earthbound aspects of a woman's life. The mother, the poet, the prophetess, and the mystic all are very much present.

Fortunately the SACD is accompanied by a generous book containing all texts (with multilingual translations!), as well as photographs, images from medieval manuscripts, and an essay on seven images of women conveyed within the music.

As for the music itself, it is another treasure for early music aficionados. If you do not number yourself in that group and are accustomed to hearing sopranos with full orchestration, the spare accompaniment will be something of a shock. But it has its own richness, evoking both the Spanish and Middle Eastern traditions.

I realize vocals are a highly personal matter for each listener. I can report, however, that Figueras's soprano retains a youthful freshness and betrays no vibrato that I can detect -- in short, a fine instrument for medieval music. And if it's possible for a vocalist to convey passion and serenity almost simultaneously, she has achieved it.

There are ethereal moments when Figueras is accompanied by four other female singers -- two sopranos, a mezzo, and a contralto -- voices blending and echoing to ravishing effect. Those of you who are familiar with Anonymous 4, Sequentia, or Emma Kirkby will certainly want to have some uninterrupted time with this album.

And this project blends the personal with the artistic in yet another way. The singer's daughter, Arianna, is part of that enchanting vocal ensemble mentioned above, and that's Figueras's husband, the renowned Jordi Savall, accompanying them on lira, rebab, and viola da gamba.

CD: Sir Adrian Boult/various orchestras and soloists: Vaughan Williams: Serenade to Music, English Folk Song Suite, Norfolk Rhapsody No. 1, Fantasia on Greensleeves, In the Fen Country, The Lark Ascending (EMI)

DVD: The Queen

It's May, Queen Elizabeth II is visiting our area, and of course DC is in the midst of its celebration of Shakespeare. It seems the best possible time to revisit one of the most quintessentially English of composers, Ralph Vaughan Williams, and particularly that marvelous Boult collection listed above. Some of you might have preferred another composer -- Elgar, say, or Britten or Purcell -- but Vaughan Williams has every reason to be singled out this week. Aside from his remarkable output -- everything from symphonies to film scores, often on British themes -- he transcribed and preserved folk songs, composed hymns, and edited collections of Christmas carols.

On top of that, his works are evocative, lyrical. I'll never forget my first taste of Vaughan Williams -- inside the concert hall, as it happened, when the Buffalo Philharmonic was running a series affordable on a student budget. The work they played was Five Variants of Dives and Lazarus, and I remember feeling strangely startled, infatuated, and quite at home.

If you have spent any time at all listening to classical music on the radio, sooner or later you've encountered something by Vaughan Williams, perhaps the English Folk Song Suite or The Lark Ascending, or perhaps even one of his folk song or carol arrangements. Frankly, for a long time I thought the local stations had an agreement whereby they'd play Vaughan Williams every day.

Not that I would complain, mind you. I still hold my breath during certain passages in the Boult recording of The Lark Ascending. Hugh Bean's violin solo is achingly beautiful and remains my favorite interpretation.

I'd also suggest The Lark for anyone who doesn't particularly have time for classical music. Listen to how beautifully Vaughan Williams captures the fluttering wings, the soaring flight, and how perfectly the violin and orchestra complement each other. You will want time to stop as the piece draws to a close.

Sometimes it seems every English folk song -- at least the ones that deal with love and courtship -- begins with a reference to a May morning or the springtime of the year. So it is with two of the chief tunes Ralph Vaughan Williams used for his English Folk Song Suite, "Blow Away the Morning Dew" and "Seventeen Come Sunday." Vaughan Williams understood how a folk song seems immediately familiar to the listener, and so it is with this suite. You don't have to know the tunes by name; just allow yourself to be seduced by the music.

The suite is played here in the Gordon Jacob arrangement for full orchestra, rather than the original military band arrangement. This lends particular charm, even when the music is in march tempo.

The Boult collection has over an hour of music, including the Fantasia on Greensleeves, In the Fen Country, and Norfolk Rhapsody No. 1 -- all evocative of the English landscape, history, and culture, and all fitting additions to your collection, particularly if you are just getting started with Vaughan Williams. You'll find a lot of his works on the major labels, including in mid-line or budget packaging. Naxos in particular has been recording some of the lesser-known works, and their catalogue is very much worth a look.

And in case you're wondering, yes, Ralph is pronounced "Rafe," just as it is for Mr. Fiennes, star of The English Patient and supporting player to Helen Mirren in the first Prime Suspect.

On a related note, if you are crestfallen at being left off the various guest lists for Queen Elizabeth's local events, consider spending your evening with Helen Mirren, whose Academy Award-winning performance as the monarch is the highlight of The Queen, now available on DVD.

The movie is as much about politics and the media as it is about the monarchy, though, and as such is a must-see for any news junkie in the DC area. That witty script captures the power struggles, cultural shifts, and human emotions of the first months of the Blair government, and Michael Sheen gives a breakout performance as the savvy but ultimately vulnerable prime minister. You'll be seeing a lot more of this actor, who's currently winning praise on Broadway for his performance as David Frost opposite Frank Langella's Richard Nixon in Frost/Nixon.

In fact, artistically speaking, the British aren't coming; they're here, if recent Broadway triumphs by Bill Nighy and Richard Griffiths are any indication.

Getting back to the performances in The Queen, I also liked Helen McCrory's skeptical, tradition-shattering Cherie Booth Blair. As with Joan Allen's great performance in Nixon, I couldn't tell how much was informed by the real woman, but McCrory, like Allen, slips out of the usual confines of political spouse.

And then there are the little touches. My cousin, a patroness of corgis, was pleased to see a contingent of those lovable dogs milling about Mirren's feet as she put her on-screen prime minister in his place. You can't have the queen without her corgis.

But of course it's Mirren who owns the movie, and so magnificently inhabits the title role. It's a reflection of her experience and depth, as well as the gifts of screenwriter Peter Morgan. Keep an eye on both of them, too.

CD:

• Mstislav Rostropovich with Herbert von Karajan/Berlin Philharmonic: Dvorak: Cello Concerto; Tchaikovsky: Rococo Variations (Deutsche Grammophon 447413)


• Rostropovich, Richter, and Oistrakh with George Szell/Cleveland Orchestra and Herbert von Karajan/Berlin Philharmonic: Beethoven: Triple Concerto; Brahms: Double Concerto (EMI 66954)

One of the first things I do every morning is cast a glance at The Washington Post obituary page, and lately it seems as if the history of the 20th century, or at least a culturally significant portion of it, is passing before our eyes. Just in recent days we've said goodbye to a small assembly of seminal figures representing art and politics, among them film industry lobbyist Jack Valenti; the singer/actress Kitty Carlisle Hart; writer Kurt Vonnegut, who as a POW survived the firebombing of Dresden; Boris Yeltsin, former president of Russia; and Mstislav Rostropovich, the cellist and conductor whose musical and political influence extended across continents and decades.

Those of us who didn't observe the drama of Rostropovich's life and career, particularly his tenure as musical director/conductor of the NSO, have perhaps less of a sense of where he fits in the cultural and political history of the 20th century. He was a truly great cellist, to be sure, but also a larger than life figure -- and something much more.

If you haven't read any of the anecdotes about Rostropovich, they're priceless. There are some hilarious accounts of his sheer exuberance and irreverence (as well as a Michael Curtiz-like relationship to the English language). And who can forget Yo-Yo Ma's affectionate onstage mimicking of Slava-ese during the Kennedy Center Honors in December 1992?

But Rostropovich was not merely an accomplished but lovably eccentric musician. He put his career on the line to support Solzhenitsyn -- an act of artistic and political courage. Thank God both men lived to see the fall of the Soviet Union and the turning of the political and artistic tide, but that only came years after Rostropovich and his wife, the soprano Galina Vishnevskaya, shunned in their native country, had found a more welcoming community in the United States.

Beyond his advocacy of political and artistic freedom, to say nothing of cultural and humanitarian projects, Rostropovich left an array of recordings representing a truly diverse repertoire. Do sit down with a CD or two, preferably to listen without interruption. Dragging other cellists into the equation is strictly optional but worth the effort for comparative purposes. If you have any Janos Starker on hand, or perhaps Yo-Yo Ma, bring them along.

I've cheated here and picked not only what was accessible in term of current catalogues but also a good starting point for novices. The EMI recording in particular is a very attractive option not only due to the material but also the collaborations with David Oistrakh and Sviatoslov Richter. This is a keeper.

Frankly, if I'm going to listen to Tchaikovsky or Dvorak, a soloist steeped in the romantic tradition would be my preference over the technically irreproachable but cool approach. Listen to Rostropovich's account and see if you don't agree.

It would take another blog entry to begin to deal with the cello works Britten, Prokofiev, and Shostakovich, among others, composed for Rostropovich. For now let me just say that Rostropovich has at last returned home to his teachers Prokofiev and Shostakovich, and yet perhaps Russia alone couldn't contain his influence and spirit.