I had many of the same impressions as you did. I was vaguely dreading the idea of listening to a long piece of classical music called “Requiem,” and I had similar preconceptions about opera singers.
Having the translations at hand was also helpful for me–it provided a way to follow along with comprehend the piece, and to stay engaged throughout.
I, too, was impressed with the singing of the chorus and with the soprano and baritone singers–and I, too, am very happy I went to this performance.

Initially, I was intimidated at the thought of sitting through an hour plus classical music performance about death. In previous classical music performances I’ve been to, I’ve sometimes felt engulfed in a wall of sound, unable to distinguish between different parts and therefore left bored and/or waiting for the end of the performance.
Luckily, this performance was far more engaging than those previous performances, and I credit that with the preparation we were given in class (University of Michigan’s “Engaging Performance” class). First, it was helpful to learn the background of the piece—that is was a non-religious piece with religious themes dedicated to the mourning of Brahm’s mother’s death. Secondly, it was helpful to meet Nadine Sierra—having talked to one of the show’s stars and learned about her background piqued my interest in the fifth movement of the piece. Lastly, watching the video in class about the chorus’s preparation before their performance enhanced my appreciation of the effort that goes into synchronizing the different parts of an orchestra.
Overall, I enjoyed Brahm’s Requiem, and I credit much of that enjoyment to being vaguely well-informed about the production prior to attending the show.

I, also was distracted by the phone noises that were going on–at first I thought they were a part of the piece, but after a while I realized that the sounds were coming from phones.

“There were times when I did not think the songs sounded like music but just random notes together. ” I actually enjoyed this aspect of the performance, and this is precisely what made it “jazz-like” to me.

Although its featured player had his back to the audience, the first act had great stage presence. Cuban-born Alfredo Rodriguez and his band conjured up the spirit of his native land with their ever-varying riffs that melded seamlessly into one another. Rodriguez is a natural entertainer—though he almost never faced the audience until the final bow, his energy was palpable and kept the audience’s attention rapt.
I was less impressed by Pedro Martinez & company. I expected the group to be more lively than the first because of their three cheerful vocalists and variety of percussive instruments, but I found my eyes wandering towards the growing trickle of people leaving and wanting to follow them out of the theater. While I appreciated many aspects of the group—their lively cheer, their female keyboardist, their down to earth style—I became fatigued by the sameness of their sound, and eventually I joined those who left the theater slightly early.

I also think that the playfulness of the second half made it more entertaining. In the first half, there were some pieces that were relatively serious, and they didn’t have the spark that the more playful pieces had. For me, their energy shined through the most at the end. Despite having had spent at least an hour doing intense dancing, they seemed to be overflowing with joy at the prospect of doing encores.

Usually when I visit the Power Center I am struck by a general aura of poshness that borders on pretension (at least my standards, which are admittedly very casual). It was refreshing, then, to sit down to Companie Kafig on Saturday, a group that defies pretension by its very nature. Wearing just tank tops and cotton pants (and sometimes less), Companie Kafig pulled off impressive act after impressive act with the most spare lighting and sound. Much of the time, they created their own sound using their own bodies. At times, this sparseness created room for kinds of creativity that more lavish productions don’t allow for. For instance, because I was primed to listen for the quiet sounds of pouring water during the cup act, the simple sound of amplified, pre-recorded water produced a sense of wonder. However, Kafig’s lack of conceit sometimes came across as lack of polish, and I sometimes found myself wishing for something a bit more…shiny, somehow, to complement the raw and simple manpower of the group.

Companie Kafig truly shined in the bits of humor that were interspersed throughout their acts. The simplicity of their sets allowed subtle kicks of humor to reach the audience.

Kafig’s charm certainly lies in their rustic simplicity. Their bare acrobatics, raw muscle power, and delicate sense of humor were impressive; however, I left with the feeling that they could have offered a little something more.

I thought the Kronos Quartet were all very talented. I appreciated their bare music, without the electronic overlay (the electronic overlay, while adding to the content of their music, detracted from the aesthetic value of the music in my opinion). Their rendition of Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War,” for instance, was beautiful. All of the instruments melded together into a mosaic of sound. I enjoyed watching the musicians’ facial and bodily expressions. Those were almost as telling as the actual music. The cellist frowned poignantly as she plucked her instrument’s strings. The violinist’s arm wailed with yearning as he moved his bow back and forth. Together their movement and music blended into something aching and meaningful.