Sven Helbig’s Requiem A was so much more than simply a concert. It was a collective exhale, a haunting meditation on grief, and the fragile dreams of hope that follow. “Requiem A - A from the Grimm’s dictionary: A, the noblest, most original of all sounds, resonating fully from the chest and throat, the one a child learns to produce first and most easily, rightly placed at the head of most language alphabets.”
These meaningful words from The Grimm’s Dictionary really highlight the evocative nature of ‘A’ and I was indeed delighted to be invited to Westminster Central Hall to witness Requiem A composed by Sven Helbig. Helbig composes music for choir, orchestra and chamber ensembles and is always exploring new ideas. Helbig grew up in Eisenhüttenstadt, a planned city in East Germany, is a self-taught composer and regularly tours internationally. The multi-instrumentalist combines classical composition techniques with experimental electronics. Regarding the word 'Requiem' Helbig shares some snippets of conversation he has had with his daughter, Ida, about what exactly a Requiem is.
“Every Requiem is about a connection between life and death, transience and eternity. Requiems are still performed very often today and many people enjoy listening to them. They help when grief seems almost hopeless.” Helbig goes on to share with his daughter,
“I mix old liturgical texts with new texts of my own. After a conflict, or after a painful loss, you have to find your way back to life”
Ida asks about the girl on the cover picture, noticing from a distance it looks like a star - Helbig agrees that it’s a glimmer of hope maybe. He photographed a girl jumping with the black background and showed the image to his friend Neil Tennant and then Tennant came up with the idea to make the girl very small, Tennant explained "...all black, but still life in the middle..." Helbig liked that idea immediately.
I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from Requiem A, making its U.K. Premier in London. What unfolded felt far more than a simple concert, it was a kind of reckoning. Set within the vast, echoing space with its vaulted ceiling and centuries of history, the music felt almost elemental, to me as if grief were being given a voice. Helbig’s Requiem A blends choral, orchestral and electronic layers that evokes something ancient, whilst also feeling very modern. It is indeed a Requiem, but it doesn’t feel overly religious and feels more a meditation of the mind. The music for the evening included some solo work from vocal artist René Pape who was simply exquisite, four highly respected European Choirs that sung so beautifully I could not help but be moved to tears, the evening was conducted by Martin Lehmann and with composer Helbig at the helm.
This almost meditative musical feast found me thinking what it means to lose, to remember, then to build and begin again. Breath of life runs through the work like a pulse, the fragility, the human emotions, and I really sensed grief. A worldwide mourning, a quiet ache of being human, yet throughout this grief , there were moments of quiet reflection and there was light, a faint glimmer of hope. Listening to the powerful and atmospheric Requiem A it made me appreciate the audience, each member a human being who may have experienced their own life losses and how sometimes as a society we hold it together, that stiff upper lip. Requiem A made it impossible for me not to feel, to let go. The music and I on our own journey. My own losses in life, the music understanding my pain and holding me there in the moment. Although I carried some of that with me when leaving, I also left feeling that glimmer of hope for new beginnings.
From the opening notes I knew I was going to feel emotional. The sound from The London Contemporary Orchestra, Trinity Boys Choir, Dresdner Kreuzchor, La Maîtrise de Colmar, and The Poznań Boys’ Choir felt luminous and yet haunting, the low strings and electronics creating a sense of unease that seemed to rise and fall like a tide. The voice of singer Pape resonated so well in the hall, it felt like he was suspended in air at times! As mentioned I did get teary throughout Requiem A and my emotions got the better of me. I felt it was not because it felt very sad but it seemed to unearth something buried. Its about an hour long and that felt exactly right, enough time to travel through its emotional landscape without loosing the thread. The electronics not overwhelming the live instruments, but more that they breathed the life into them, giving the instruments and music a sense of timelessness.
By the end of the evening I felt emptied but also strangely soothed, as though the music had done the crying with me and it reminded me how differently each of us receives sound. For some Requiem A might speak of renewal or healing. For me, it was more about acknowledgment, of pain, of memory, of everything we carry. Haunting, human and deeply affecting, Requiem A felt less like a performance and more like a shared act of remembrance. I left Westminster Central Hall with a sense of peace, a sense of release and the music stayed with me long into the night.
I very much look forward to Helbig returning to the UK with more of his evocative musical masterpieces.
Review - Mary Fogg
On - 4th October 2025
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