Requiem A is much more influenced by Swans, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and Sigur Rós: composer Sven Helbig in his new Requiem A

Premiere of Sven Helbig's Requiem A at the Dresdner Kreuzkirche (Photo: Oliver Killig)

The composer Sven Helbig has been on my radar since at least 2013 when his disc Pocket Symphonies came out [see my review] and I saw him live in Hamburg at the Reeperbahn Festival that year [see my review]. More recently he was one of the three composers to debut the Three Continents cello concerto (created with composers Nico Muhly and Zhou Long) at the 2019 Dresden Music Festival [see my review]. And I have interviewed him twice, first back in 2016 talking about I Eat The Sun And Drink The Rain [see my interview] and again in 2022 to chat about his album, Skills [see my interview].

His most recent work, REQUIEM A was created to mark the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II, honouring the victims of war and sending a profound plea for peace. The work was premiered in February 2025 at the Dresdner Kreuzkirche, with Sven Helbig’s live electronics, bass Rene Pape, the Staatskapelle Dresden and the Dresdner Kreuzchor conducted by Martin Lehmann. The work is being performed in Vienna at Vienna’s annual memorial event on 8 May 2025 in Heldenplatz at the heart of the city, with the Wiener Symphoniker and the Dresdner Kreuzchor, plus live visuals by Icelandic film artist Máni M. Sigfusson, adding an immersive and dynamic visual dimension to the experience.

Also on 8 May 2025, the work will be released on disc by Deutsche Grammophon and further ahead there will be a performance in the UK in October 2025. We are pleased to include a short interview with Sven exploring the work further.

Sven Helbig( Photo: Claudia Weingart)

Requiem – not the easiest subject to approach. How did you find your way into it?

The classical requiem moved me even before I had experienced deep grief or fully understood its religious content. Its compelling, unmistakable form and overwhelming intensity have always captivated me. Right now, I feel a profound sense of mourning for the ideals I grew up with—ideals of Humanism, the Renaissance, and the Enlightenment. It felt only natural to turn to the form of the requiem as a way to engage with that loss.

The title REQUIEM A is intriguing. What does the “A” stand for, and how did you come to choose this title?

The “A” in the title stands for the German words Atem (breath) and Anfang (beginning). Requiem A dwells at the edge of grief. It seeks a path back into life. “Beginning” is not meant here as a tabula rasa—that would imply forgetting. After deep, despairing sorrow, forgetting is not possible. Rather, this is a beginning that follows a process of intense, Jungian inner work.

Here, beginning is first a decision—a first note, a first sound, which means nothing yet, only the idea of something new. And this newness inevitably carries the past within it. This beginning starts with a breath.

I found a beautiful passage on the letter A in the Grimm’s Dictionary:

“A, the noblest, most original of all sounds, resounding fully from chest and throat, the sound a child first and most easily learns to produce—rightly placed at the head of the alphabet in most languages.”

This Requiem, written in honour of the 25,000 lives lost in the war, will likely draw comparisons – especially for British listeners – to Britten’s War Requiem (1962). How do you see the relationship between Britten’s work and yours?

I know Britten’s War Requiem very well – it was performed often in Dresden. The biggest difference is certainly that I have not witnessed the horrors of war with my own eyes. The second difference is that my strongest influences no longer come from classical music.

I know the classical Requiems by Brahms, Mozart, and Verdi inside out. Until I was 25, I lived almost exclusively with this music—with the composers, their scores, their biographies, and their letters. I was deeply immersed in the correspondence between Clara Schumann, Robert Schumann, and Johannes Brahms. Classical music was my world.

Then I started playing drums. That opened the door to jazz, post-rock, and eventually electronic music. For the past 30 years, that’s the kind of music I’ve primarily listened to. In this sense, Requiem A is much more influenced by Swans, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and Sigur Rós.

There are also important impulses from electronic artists like Alessandro Cortini, Abul Mogard, and Venetian Snares. I use the instruments of classical music, and you can certainly hear traditional compositional techniques in places, but I no longer follow the classical tradition.

In that regard, perhaps Jóhann Jóhannsson is the most significant inspiration—because he followed a similar path.

REQUIEM A is deeply connected to history, drawing inspiration from your grandfather’s reflections on war and premiering in Dresden on the 80th anniversary of the city’s destruction in World War II. How was this historical context involved in shaping the work?

It is difficult to capture past, present, and future in a single piece of music. I have not lived through war myself. Yet it lingers as a background noise beneath my present. The central question for me is whether we will ever be able to truly overcome it.

In my childhood, war existed only in the stories my grandfather told. Now, we speak of it daily. It has returned—suddenly and forcefully—breaking into our everyday lives. Requiem A speaks with quiet urgency against this backdrop of historical context.

The piece has been premiered and will be performed by major orchestras, including the Staatskapelle Dresden, the London Contemporary Orchestra, and the Wiener Symphoniker. What has it been like working with these different ensembles? How have they influenced the interpretation of the music?

It is a deeply fulfilling experience to work with such outstanding ensembles. They respond swiftly to interpretative nuances, and every musical colour becomes possible without unnecessary effort or strain. It is truly a gift to collaborate with these orchestras.

You are also collaborating with choirs such as the Dresdner Kreuzchor. What makes working with this choir particularly meaningful for you?

The Kreuzchor is one of Dresden’s crown jewels. I have always been an enthusiastic admirer, and many of my friends are former members of the choir. It is a truly unique institution, whose alumni are interwoven throughout society and have left a lasting cultural imprint. Especially under the leadership of the new Kreuzkantor, Martin Lehmann, the choir is flourishing and reaching new heights of artistic excellence.

You’ve described the structure of REQUIEM A as resembling a city – partially destroyed, then rebuilt. How does this metaphor translate into the music itself?

I included a classical Kyrie and Agnus Dei to reference the destroyed city. The Kreuzkirche remained standing on the outside, while the Frauenkirche was historically reconstructed. Some buildings, however, were replaced entirely with modern structures.

I found it meaningful to build a Requiem on such a fractured architectural blueprint. That’s why modern elements stand side by side with traditional forms—silently acknowledging the layers of history embedded in the place.

REQUIEM A is structured in nine sections. Could you walk us through how the story unfolds throughout the piece?

Let me just give a few general thoughts on the structure.

The Requiem consists of Introitus, Kyrie, Meer von Tränen (aria), Sana et Vola, Sanctus, Agnus Dei, Aus der Tiefe, An die Weide (aria), Atem. The two bass arias bookend Requiem A with the universal themes described in the choir becoming a personal experience here. Theoretical connections often fail when confronted with the individual, with overwhelming pain and the resulting paralysis. Requiem A becomes more tangible in these two moments. René Pape was the ideal choice for this part. The arias could not have been more poignant.

I used also electronic elements in Requiem A to activate the background noise of the collective memory.  The deep drone sounds were especially noticeable when the music from the choir and orchestra fell silent. “Anfang” is an active process; it does not occur on its own.

Musically, the key words in the text correspond to the Pythagorean Tetractys. Fourth, fifth, and octave intervals create a sonic microcosm – a reflection of order within chaos. They represent fundamental relationships that extend beyond the realm of music. Pythagoras associated the Tetractys with the numerical ratios that govern music, mathematics, and geometry. To him, these were the very building blocks of the universe – a harmony underlying all existence. The central motifs of breathing in Requiem A are shaped using these intervals.

The visual aspect has always been an important part of your work. What can the audience expect from the performance in London?

For me, visual elements are very important in my projects. Each sense has its own memory. Through this, I can make the audience remember my thoughts and core ideas more intensely. I’m sure that anyone who attended the concert still has the oversized ‘A’ imprinted on their retina. This is how I keep the thoughts on track.

The visual content is always created by the Icelandic video artist Maní M. Sigfusson. This is our third collaboration. I give him complete freedom, and he surprises me with visual ideas that usually don’t just spell out the text but add an additional layer. 

Ritual plays a central role in Requiem A. In times of grief and transformation, rituals give us structure—they mark transitions, hold space for emotions, and allow collective experience to unfold. The music itself is built around this idea: repetitive forms, vocal invocations, and slow harmonic developments mirror the gestures of ritual. The performance, too, follows a kind of liturgical arc—not religious in a traditional sense, but deeply spiritual in how it creates presence and attentiveness. For me, Requiem A is not just a concert, it’s a shared rite. A space where both performers and audience move together through reflection, mourning, and renewal.

Sven Helbig, Dresdner Kreuzchor, Staatskapelle Dresden at the Premiere of Sven Helbig's REQUIEM A at the Dresdner Kreuzkirche (Photo: Oliver Killig)

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