Above: Ghena Dimitrova
Verdi’s DON CARLO in a performance from Caracas, 1979. Edward Downes conducts.
Listen here.
CAST:
Don Carlo – Rubén Domínguez; Elisabetta – Ghena Dimitrova; Felipe II – Nicola Ghiuselev; Rodrigo – Lorenzo Saccomani; Eboli – María Luisa Nave; Grand Inquisitor – Giovanni Foiani; A Monk – Pedro Liendo
Maestro Zubin Mehta (above) leads a gala concert of music by Giuseppe Verdi featuring an impressive lineup of stars.
Watch and listen here.
~ Author: Oberon
Wednesday April 24th, 2024 matinee – This was my third time hearing the Chinese violinist Lun Li. My first encounter was at Merkin Hall when he gave his NY debut as a Young Concert Artist. Soon after, he played the Prokofiev second violin concerto – most impressively – with the Riverside Symphony at Alice Tully Hall.
This afternoon, Lun Li offered a distinctive program at The Morgan Library, and he played thrillingly from start to finish. I very much liked his idea of having the house lights completely darkened throughout the concert; the only drawback to this was: it was impossible to take anything more than the most rudimentary notes. In the long run, though, notes became superfluous because this was some of the greatest violin playing I have ever heard. After a while, I stopped trying to write anything down and just let the music transfix me.
Lun Li’s presentation was simple: clad all in black, he stood in a pool of light on the stage, casting a quadruple shadow. The darkness in hall seemed to make the audience more attentive and more focused on the music; there was a resolute stillness in the air, making the charismatic violinist’s extraordinary playing even more compelling.
The program was devised in three segments followed by a sort of built-in encore. Each segment consisted of a short ‘prelude’, followed by a longer work.
Music by Henry Eccles – his brief Prelude in A-minor – opened the concert, followed immediately by Nicola Matteis’ Alia Fantasia. The two pieces were written about fifteen years apart and are similar in feeling. Lun Li’s playing was elegant, and technically immaculate.
Continuing in a Baroque mode, music by Giovanni Bononcini, came next: his Prelude in D-minor led on to the celebrated Chaconne from Partita No. 2 in D-minor, BWV 1004, by Johann Sebastian Bach. This long work offers endless opportunities for brilliant playing, and Lun Li gave as astounding, passionate performance, holding the audience under a spell with his virtuosity. The ensuing ovation was inevitable after such a glorious rendition.
Following Philip Glass’s Book of Longing, which has a Baroque flavor, but with a tinge of timelessness, Lun Li gave a monumental performance of Béla Bartók’s Sonata for Solo Violin. The sonata was composed in 1944 on a commission from the American violinist Yehudi Menuhin; it was one of the composer’s last works. This solo sonata is in three – or maybe four – movements: Tempo di ciaccona, Fuga, Melodia, and Adagio – the last two being inseparable.
The sonata places extraordinary demands on the violinist as the music veers from searing, to luminous, to poignant. The sheer number of notes is uncanny, and they were all sewn together in an intense, unforgettable musical experience by our remarkable soloist. If the reaction to the Bach seemed massive, the ovation after the Bartók was simply off the charts.
Lun Li polished off his program with Tessa Lark’s Jig and Pop, a lively piece with a mile-a-minute swirls of notes. The violinist was called back for numerous bows.
The near-total darkness in hall today certainly worked in this particular instance, but if it becomes a trend – it’s been that way for years at The Joyce – people like me will be out of a job.
~ Oberon
Riccardo Chailly conducts Verdi’s BALLO IN MASCHERA at Geneva, 1984, starring Anna Tomowa-Sintow, Luciano Pavarotti, Piero Cappuccilli, Mignon Dunn, and Danielle Borst. Poor video quality, but musically exciting.
Watch and listen here.
Above: Bella Hristova
~ Author: Oberon
Sunday April 21st, 2024 – A quintet of exceptional string players gathered this evening at Alice Tully Hall where Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center was presenting works by Beethoven, Françaix, Bridge, and Mendelssohn.
Beethoven’s Trio in E-flat major, Op 3, was superbly played by Bella Hristova (violin), Timothy Ridout (viola), and Sihao He (cello). In this early work, the composer gives us six movements instead of the usual four. Each movement seemed a bit drawn out, and – beautiful as the music is – various motifs recur until their originality wears thin.
Above: Bella Hristova, Sinhao He, and Timothy Ridout at the end of the Beethoven
The opening Allegro con brio has a witty start; along the way, pauses will charmingly crop up. The violin part is quite florid, and Ms. Hristova played it vividly, The music veers from agitated to lyrical until – In a mood swing – Mr. He’s cello suddenly digs in dramatically. The music fades, then rebounds with some lively bowing from all. After another lull, we move on to a brisk finale.
The Andante has gentle start, with violin trills set over a graceful dance rhythm. Lovely subtleties emerge from the ideal blend of the three voices, and how lovely to observe the communication between the musicians. The movement ends with a brief plucked motif.
The opening bars of the first Minuet have a hesitant quality; then a sense of irony develops. Sweet melodies entwine, laced with touches of humor. Mr. Ridout’s velvety viola opens the Adagio in a gently swaying mode. Mr. Hristova brings perfect clarity to a solo violin passage, then joins in the swaying feeling as viola and cello take up the melodic line. The roles of melodist and accompanist shift graciously. A cadenza from Ms. Hristova is heard. Violin and viola echo one another, then the viola and cello commune. Near the end, a strange droning sound emerges.
The second Minuet, marked Moderato, is light and lively at first, then the sound grow denser. A high, fanciful violin passage again shows off the Hristova magic. The Finale/Allegro begins with bright, virtuosic passages before sailing thru a variety of moods and rhythms. After some false endings, the final cadence is reached.
Above: Chad Hoopes, Sinhao He, and Matt Lipman playing the Françaix
Nothing could have provided a more vibrant contrast to the Beethoven than Jean Françaix’s Trio for violin, viola, and cello, which was composed in 1933. Chad Hoopes (violin), Matthew Lipman (viola) and Mr. He (cello) took the stage for this delightful fifteen-minute piece which is alive with contrasts and gleaming tone colours. The opening Allegretto vivo is sprightly, with a jazzy feel; the Scherzo is a fast, waltzy dance.
In the Andante, the individual timbres of the three players can be delightfully savored. Mr. Hoopes opens the movement with a sweet/sad violin theme; then Mr. He’s cello sets a slow rhythm before taking up the melody with his deep-violet sound. The theme then passes to Mr. Lipman’s distinctive viola. The zestful final Rondo is rapid and rhythmical, with the violin sailing to airy heights before the mood turns whimsical with the viola interjecting some cunning trills. Then, out of the blue, the music turns into a march. The three musicians seemed to be having so much fun with this refreshing piece.
Above: violists Timothy Ridout and Matthew Lipman after the Bridge
Following the interval, I experienced Frank Bridge’s Lament for two violas for the first time. Composed in 1912, this eight-minute work is a real treasure for folks like me who love the viola sound. The two dapper young players, Timothy Ridout and Matthew Lipman, immediately drew us into the mood of the music. Mr. Lipman starts with a sorrowful theme, richly intoned. Mr. Ridout joins, playing poignantly in a higher range. In passages of close harmony, the music gets more passionate. A dialogue emerges: Matt in a lyrical mode as Tim plucks a rhythm: then they switch roles. In a passage of double-stops, we sense the aural illusion of a quartet. They two then play in unison, and Tim then sustains a long tone over Matt’s gentle plucking beat. The final chord fades. There was a big audience reaction to this rarely-heard work, and the players were enthusiastically applauded.
At last we come to Mendelssohn (above), who composed his Quintet #2, Op. 87, in 1845. The composer’s Piano Trio #1 is the piece that turned me on to chamber music…and his MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM is the perfect ballet score.
In this evening’s Quintet performance, Mr. Hoopes was 1st violin, and Ms. Hristova 2nd, while Mr. Lipman was 1st viola and Mr. Ridout 2nd; anchoring the work with his opulent cello tones was Mr. He. The lively start of the Allegro vivace heralded a thrilling performance, the rich blend these players achieved had the effect of an orchestra playing. Tremolos spring up, adding to the vivacious atmosphere. A big theme sounds, Mr. Hoopes’ violin shines in high-lying passages…it’s all very grand. Suddenly things soften, only to surge up again to a glorious finish.
The Andante scherzando has a sly start, later developing into a courtly waltz with cello pizzicati setting the pace. Minor-key harmonies emerge, and Mr. Ridout plays descending tremolos, opening an exchange of melodies between Mr. Lipman and Mr. Hoopes. The movement flows on to a wispy conclusion.
A somber – almost tragic – atmosphere pervades the Adagio e lento, with achingly beautiful harmonies evolving over the tones of the cello rising step by step. A proud rhythm is taken up, almost like a noble Spanish dance, and the music grows more lyrical, with a reassuring violin solo. The doleful atmosphere returns, with Mr. Hoopes, and then Mr. Lipman, taking the melodic lead. Mr. Hoopes has a cadenza, and then shines in a high passage over shimmering tremolos. Passion rises to a sense of grandeur, with the violin soaring over all. The music calms to a wisftul end.
The final Allegro molto vivace is a bustling affair, with each player having a chance to shine. The violas, and then the violins, harmonize. After a lull, there is a final dash, further lifting the audience’s spirits and igniting a standing ovation wherein the players were recalled for a second bow while shouts of bravo! rang thru the hall.
(Performance photos from the Chamber Music Society’s Facebook page)
~ Oberon
Mara Zampieri (above) and Giuseppe Taddei in a scene from Puccini’s TOSCA, from a 1989 telecast from the Wiener Staatsoper, with Fabio Luisi conducting.
Watch and listen here.
Fifty years ago today, on April 20th, 1974, I saw my first performance of Wagner’s PARSIFAL I was in my twelfth year of being an opera-lover, and I understood the importance of seeing this opera for the first time. I’d heard it twice already on Met Texaco Saturday broadcasts: the first in 1966 with Régine Crespin, Sándor Kónya, Walter Cassel, and Jerome Hines, conducted by Georges Prêtre, and the second in 1971, with Irene Dalis, Mr. Kónya, Thomas Stewart, and Cesare Siepi, conducted by Leopold Ludwig. The music seemed way beyond me at the first hearing, though – having been raised in a devout Christian household – I found a lot of it very moving; in fact, I was sometimes moved to tears, though I was not sure why. By 1971, the music seemed much more immediate and the characters – and their stories – began to seem more meaningful.
A lot had happened to me between that 1971 broadcast and the afternoon in 1974 that I walked into The Met for my first live performance of this mythic opera. I was, in fact, pretty down at the time. I’d had my first gay sexual experience in October 1973, only to be dumped by the object of my affection soon after. We’d been friends up until our night together, and it wasn’t until a few weeks after that I found out he already had a serious relationship going.
Uncharacteristically, I stayed away from Gotham for a while, but I kept in touch with another boy in our group, TJ. I had turned to him for solace, and we grew very close, though our ‘first night’ was a disaster. But we really liked each other, so we eventually got on the same groove. As I recall, it was the day after the PARSIFAL that we went to The Frick and it was there, in the Atrium, that we revealed our feelings and decided to make a go of it. A few weeks later, I went up to The Cape to spend the Summer with him. At the end of the Summer, we tried to resume our lives apart, but we missed each other so much that I moved down to live with him in his dorm room at Sarah Lawrence College.
Anyway, my diary entry about my first PARSIFAL is much briefer than my usual performance notes. As a rule, my diary was hand-written; I am not sure why I typed this entry: 
I should perhaps clarify that Ms. Martin soon found the ‘staircase’ to her upper register and went on to be a very fine Sieglinde, Ortrud, Dyer’s Wife, and Tosca. Mr. Thomas, who had been my first Calaf and Tristan, went on singing for another eight seasons, with mixed results. Mr. Macurdy continued to develop and refine his Gurnemanz, and it became one of his greatest roles.
The next opera I saw came five months later; by then, I was happily living on campus at Sarah Lawrence with my bookish boyfriend, and posing as a student. Photo by TJ.
~ Oberon
Above: Marzia Memoli and Lloyd Knight ~ THE RITE OF SPRING ~ photo by Hibbard Nash
~ Author: Oberon
Friday April 19th, 2024 – Two of Martha Graham’s masterworks book-ended a repeat of Jamar Roberts’ newest work as the Martha Graham Dance Company continued their stint at City Center.
The Aaron Copland score for APPALACHIAN SPRING was performed by the Mannes Orchestra under the baton of David Hayes. From my 5th row seat on house left, I had a great perspective of the Isamu Noguchi set, and a close-up view of the dancers’ expressive faces. The cast was perfection: the preacher’s followers were a delightful quartet of Graham girls: So Young An, Meagan King, Devin Loh, and Marzia Memoli; their worshipful interest in the pastor was charming.
Above: Leslie Andrea Williams and Alessio Crognale-Roberts as the Pioneering Woman and The Preacher; photo by Melissa Sherwood
As the object of his followers attentions, Alessio Corgnale-Roberts made a vivid impression, both in his dancing and his acting. The Preacher is framed as a good guy, but he has a dark side; in a solo danced while the young marrieds pray, Alessio showed a sinister undercurrent in the holy man’s personality. Brilliant! And Leslie Andrea Williams as the Pioneering Woman was captivating in her quiet strength, her face reflecting the character’s innate nobility. Leslie is the epitome of personal magnetism; even when she is sitting stock still while others dance, you are drawn to her.
Above: Jacob Larsen and Anne Souder in APPALACHIAN SPRING; photo by Melissa Sherwood
Over the years, I have seen many wonderful partnerships in the roles of the Husbandman and his Bride, back to those incredible Graham artists, Miki Orihara and Tadej Brdnik: my first Graham experience – many years ago – at Jacob’s Pillow. Each couple since then have seemed ideal in their own way, and this evening I felt an intrinsic perfection in Jacob Larsen and Anne Souder. Their sheer personal attractiveness would be enough to make them engrossing to watch, but they made so much of their roles, both in their dancing and their acting, that the time-honored ballet took on a new freshness.
Jacob (above, in Melissa Sherwood’s photo) brings all the facets of his character to life: the energy of a young man, but also his far-searching gaze as he looks out over the land, and the pensive qualities of a new husband who now has a bride to care for and – undoubtedly – a family to raise in his future. Jacob’s athleticism was evidenced in the jumps and barrel turns that Graham weaves into the choreography. His partnering has lyricism and grace.
Anne Souder as The Bride (above, in Melissa Sherwood’s photo) is a dancer who captures the nuance of every expression, step, and gesture; in doing so, she is never fussy or theatrical…rather, she dances from the heart. Her smile speaks of tenderness, and of hope for the future. There is a solo passage, though, when a shadow of worry passes over this young woman’s lovely face: can she do – and become – everything that is expected of her? Her husband’s embrace reassures her; the dark cloud vanishes.
Ms. Souder’s technique has a silken, seamless quality; she has the extension of a prima ballerina as well as the combination of power and poetry that is the requisite of a great Graham dancer. I expected so much from her in this role, and was thrilled by her perfection.
In the end, the newlyweds are left alone, and life begins.
(APPALACHIAN SPRING photos by Melissa Sherwood)
WE THE PEOPLE seemed even more powerful than on opening night, which is really saying something. The choreographer described the piece as “Part lament, part protest” which is manifested in the alternating passages of silent solos and vibrant, big-rhythm dance passages for the ensemble.
On opening night, I was far back from the stage and, in the prevailing darkness of the piece, I could not always tell who was dancing at any given moment. Tonight, sitting close, I could savour the individual energy and personality of each person onstage. Two of the company’s newer dancers – Devin Loh and Ane Arrieta – seemed super-charged by the music. The spotlit solos for Leslie Andrea Williams, Alessio Crognale-Roberts, and Lloyd Knight were riveting, and the duet for Meagan King and Jacob Larsen provides a contrasting touch of lightness and subtle humor. Laurel Dalley Smith, still on a RODEO high, was fantastic. There were times when it felt like someone (or maybe two) was missing, and that certain phrases had changed hands. A sextet for six women seemed like an octet on opening night, or am I hallucinating?
At any rate, WE THE PEOPLE should become a repertory staple of the Graham Company: it’s that good.
The evening closed with my favorite Graham work: RITE OF SPRING. The Mannes Orchestra were back in the pit, playing very impressively indeed under David Hayes’ vibrant command. The Stravinsky score, which – along with Nijinsky’s controversial choreography – caused a near riot at the ballet’s 1913 premiere, no longer seems radical, but instead is a powerful musical document of an unforgettable date in dance history. The wind players of the Mannes ensemble reveled in the score’s quirky demands. The setting where the ritual sacrifice takes place, conceived by the Company’s Artistic Director, Janet Eilber, is under an ominous sky; the feeling is both vast and curiously claustrophobic.
The choreography is some of the most demanding imaginable, calling for extreme athleticism, intricate steps and gestural motifs, and pinpoint timing. The full Company participates in this grand-scale work, and so we get to know the apprentices – Zachary Jeppsen, Matthew Spangler, Justin Valentine, and Jai Perez – as well as the newest dancers (already making a mark for themselves) – Ane Arrieta, Meagan King, and Antonio Leone.
Alessio Crognale-Roberts and Jacob Larsen have a prominent place in the ritual; as the Shaman’s acolytes, they have a lot of work to do, and they do it handsomely, and with stoic resolve.
It is The Shaman whose solo opens the piece with a ceremonial dance to sanctify the space for the dire ritual to come. The charismatic Lloyd Knight gave a magnificent portrayal as the man ordained by the gods to perform the sacrificial ritual; nothing will deter or distract him from his cold-hearted purpose. Lloyd’s command of the role’s uncanny partnering demands was something to behold.
In her debut performance as The Chosen One, Marzia Memoli gave a thrilling performance as she moved from being just another village girl to being the central figure in the gruesome ritual that will keep the community in the good graces of the gods for another year.
Marzia has always been a truly vivid dancer, fearless and committed, and she now has a role that suits her to perfection. It is a role in which the dancer cannot simply portray the ill-fated character, but must become her. With a font of strength and energy that belies her slender frame, Marzia, with her mane of golden hair, gave a consummate performance, wherein the cross-currents of vulnerability and resolute courage ebb and flow as the girl’s fate closes in on her.
The dancers were hit by a tidal wave of applause as they filled the stage for a bow. Lloyd Knight was hailed as the king of the Gotham dance world, and then Marzia took her solo bow to rapturous applause while Lloyd handed her a bouquet and they embraced.
I was sorry to hear that this memorable RITE had not been photographed for posterity, aside from the studio photo at the top of this article. But I have indelible images from the evening in my mind.
~ Oberon
Above: tenor Benjamin Bernheim as Romeo
~ Author: Oberon
Saturday March 30th, 2024 matinee – Earlier this season, I renewed my acquaintance with Bizet’s CARMEN at The Met, an opera I had not seen for many years. Musically, I enjoyed it thoroughly, and so this afternoon I was hoping for a similar experience with Gounod’s ROMEO & JULIETTE.
My first encounter with the Gounod opera was an unforgettable matinee in October of 1967, when Jeannette Pilou made a last-minute Met debut as Juliette opposite Franco Corelli’s matinee idol Romeo. I fell in love with Ms. Pilou that afternoon, and made many trips to New York from the little town specifically to see her in her many Met roles in the ensuing seasons. I saw Jeannette as Juliette a second time, and since then I have seen only Colette Boky and Hei-Kyung Hong in the role.
Today’s matinee started the same way as my first-ever ROMEO in 1967: the news that Nadine Sierra had canceled and was being replaced by So Young Park, whose Met credentials to date have been a handful of recitals with piano in the NY Parks, and a single Queen of the Night in 2019.
The Met Orchestra played with its accustomed polish, and the chorus has a lot to do in this opera…and they did it very well. For the most part, Yannick Nézet-Séguin resisted his usual temptation to have the orchestra play too loudly…though there were moments…
The orchestral opening was heavy-handed, followed by a chorale, and then the poignant love theme sounds from the strings. The first solo voices to be heard are those of Frederick Ballentine as Tybalt and Daniel Rich as Paris; Mr. Ballentine would have more to do later, in the duel scene…and he made a strong impression there.
Nathan Berg was a fine Capulet; his ‘aria’ at the ball was subtly done, and his scene with Juliet prior to her taking the potion was excellent, as was his expression of remorse over her supposed death. Eve Gigliotti was an impressive Gertrude, making the most of her part in the wedding quartet, and in her scene with the the characterful Grigorio of Jeongcheol Cha. Richard Bernstein’s Duke of Verona made his anger at the dueling factions palpable, and his sentencing of Romeo to exile is a pivotal moment in the story.
Alfred Walker’s Frère Laurent brought the basso’s warmth of timbre and eloquence of feeling to the scene of the wedding, and his consoling singing gives Juliette the courage to take the sleeping potion. Will Liverman delivered Mercutio’s tricky Queen Mab aria with complete assurance – a highlight of the evening for sure. Will’s handsome timbre is always so appealing, and his delivery was light and lively in the aria’s swift phrases, turning more lyrical in the central, more reflective passages. Bravo! Samantha Hankey’s singing of Stephano’s “Que fais tu blanche tourterelle” was a vocal treat. Melodious in the opening tune, the page chides the Capulet men with her insouciant teasing at “Gardez bien la belle”, finishing off with a mini-cadenza up to a perfectly placed top note which she sustained to brilliant effect. This aria was an early-career success for the great Frederica von Stade; may it bring Ms. Hankey similar good fortune!
So Young Park has a girlish, clear voice which captured the innocence of the teen-aged Juliette right from her opening lines. At first, the voice was a bit tremulous, but she bravely shimmered up to a sprightly top note in her cadenza. Soon after, she was breezing thru the delectable waltz, in which she had all the coloratura well in-hand; the lovely pensive passage “Loin de l”Hiver morose…” was beautifully sung, and then the soprano sailed up to neat top-C, and lingered there.
She and Mr. Bernheim were sweetly playful in their first encounter, Mr. Bernheim so persuasive in his gentle flirtation which is dressed up as poetry. Ms. Park’s delight at being so charmed by the handsome stranger vanished into sadness when she learns who he is: an enemy of her family.
The balcony duet was alive with the fascination of young love; Ms. Park, now settled-in vocally, brought sweet lyricism to her lines – and the voice bloomed lovingly in response to the tenor’s ardent “O nuit divine…”. Then they harmonized to ravishing effect with “De cet adieu si douce e la tristesse“, and then Mr. Bernheim melted all hearts with his hushed, gorgeous “Va, repose en paix…” For me, die-hard romantic that I am, this entire scene was enthralling.
Ms. Park’s voice sailed over the wedding scene quartet, where Ms. Gigliotti and Mssrs. Bernheim and Walker were all vocally aglow. The spine-tingling prelude to the bridal night duet was magically played by the Met Orchestra, and then Ms. Park and Mr. Bernheim gave us some of the most captivating singing imaginable with “Nuit d’hyménée! Ô douce nuit d’amour!”, their voices entwining in quiet rapture. The call of the lark – “the harbinger of the dawn” – draws them out of their reverie: thrillingly, they bid each other farewell. Romeo rushes to his fate, as Juliette sings a quiet blessing. This is the end of their happiness, though they do not know it.
Ms. Park sang the dramatic Potion Aria effectively, though the conductor’s sudden need to pump up the volume elicited a rather brassy climactic top note from the soprano: so predictable with him on the podium. But such things only matter to a handful of listeners. The soprano finished the opera with her touching farewell to her beloved as they ask god to forgive them.
The afternoon was a total triumph for Benjamin Bernheim. It is a great pleasure to hear this voice, which is both elegant and passionate. Following the sublime ‘lullaby” of the entr’acte leading up to the balcony scene, the tenor’s “O nuit!” marked the start of Bernheim’s dreamy recitative which carries us to a gorgeous clarinet solo before he takes up greatest love song in all opera: “Ah! Lève–toi, soleil!” I have heard many
superb interpretations of his aria – from the likes of Franco Corelli, Alfredo Kraus, and Neil Shicoff – but none has moved me quite as deeply as M. Bernheim’s. Sung with deep tenderness, and ending with a thrilling B-flat, the tenor was vociferously hailed by the audience. Listen to a brief clip here.
Following his anguish at being exiled, the Bernheim Romeo capped the duel scene’s final ensemble with a bold top-C. Yet, for all the excitement of hearing a tenor deploy such golden high notes, it was in the quiet despair of the final scene that Bernheim achingly conveyed the pain of a broken heart: the sublime tenderness of his pianissimo farewell to Juliet, which was followed by the heart-rending echo of “No, ce n’est pas le jour…”, recalling the lovers’ moments of their brief happiness.
Benjamin Bernheim’s Romeo brought some of the finest tenor singing I’ve heard at The Met in the last half-century. His voice has an innate poetic quality that cannot be taught; it is a voice that touches my heart. Thru the years, I have sometimes felt my deeply romantic soul to be a curse, but today I realized that it’s a gift.
Now I have rambled on long enough. I went to the stage door after the curtain calls and met Eve, Benjamin, Will, and Richard. They were so kind…I love them all. What intrigues me so much about opera singers is that they can do things we mere mortals can only dream of. I admire their devotion and their courage, putting themselves on the line night after night so that we can bask in the glory of the greatest art form ever.
And here are the curtain calls!
~ Oberon
Above: Ema Nikolovska, photo by Kaupo Kikkas
Author: Oberon
Thursday March 28th, 2024 – Earlier this year, I was looking to add a vocal recital – by a singer I had never previously heard, in an intimate setting, including some songs that would be brand new to me – to my late-winter calendar. Flipping thru the Carnegie Hall brochure, I zeroed in on tonight’s offering at Weill Hall: Macedonian-Canadian mezzo-soprano Ema Nikolovska, with Howard Watkins at the piano. I listened to about ten seconds of her singing on YouTube and requested a ticket. I’m so glad I was there.
I must say at the start that it was a recital wherein the encore proved the highest highlight of the evening. Ms. Nikolovska announced this work, which she had commissioned, prior to singing it, and now I am casting about, trying to find more information about it, since I did not catch the name of the composer.
But to begin at the beginning, the mezzo-soprano and her collaborating pianist offered four songs by Franz Schubert. She chose songs somewhat off the well-trodden Schubert path, some of which were brand new to me.
“Im Frühling” was the most familiar. From its opening phrases, I sensed a large voice that had been tamed and polished. It took a few warm-up measures before things began to flow, but within seconds Ms. Nikolovska was ravishing the ear with her keen sense of nuance, and her expressive diction.
In “Dass sie hier gewesen” it became clear that Mr. Watkins (above) was so much more than an accompanist: his artistry is deep, and he plays from the heart. Ms. Nikolovska here displayed her gift for introducing straight tone into her singing, and the effect was enchanting. Mr. Watkins opened “Herbst” with a rippling restlessness, and then the music took on a sense of urgency. The song has an Erlkönig feel to it. Ms. Nikolovska’s subtle inflections and Mr. Watkins’ marvelous playing drew us deeper and deeper into the music.
The Schubert set ended with the longest of the songs, “Der Unglückliche” which felt like an intimate mini-opera. The piano opens with a darkish sense of doom, and the voice moves from pensive to intense. We pass thru many moods in this dramatic and engrossing song.
Ms. Nikolovska then spoke, rather at length, about the program. When the music resumed, it was Richard Strauss’ very brief “Nichts” that re-established the mood with its big piano intro and its final vocal outburst. A thoughtful atmosphere is established in “Gefunden“, which turns melodic and ends with Ms. Nikolovska on a gorgeously sustained, dreamy final note. We remain in dreamland with the opening of “Das Rosenband“, which soon gives way to rapture. Ms. Nikolovska was simply sublime here, her soft singing so engaging, and so beautifully controlled. The straight tone moments were spine-tingling, with awesome dynamic control, and a high-lying passage near the end which was magical. Mr. Watkins, in the piano postlude, was equally impressive.
Songs of the Seasons, by Margaret Bonds, sets four poems of Lankston Hughes. A touch of jazz inflects Autumn, while a slow sway and dreamily sustained pianissimi evoke a cozy afternoon before the fire as snow falls outside in Winter. Mr. Watkins sets a music hall mood with sparkling motifs for Spring; this song has a big finish, and leaves it to Ms. Nikolovska to spin out a delectable diminuendo. The pianist introduces Summer with animated playing which becomes an infectious rhythm.
An over-long intermission threatened to break the spell, but at last we were drawn back into the alternate universe by Debussy’s atmospheric Ariettes oubliées. The first song, “C’est l’extase langoureuse“, is aptly named, as its sense of languor is so finely evoked by the composer…and so perfectly captured by pianist and singer. The sweet sadness of “Il pleure dans mon coeur” was immediately conjured up by our two musicians: Ms. Nikolovska exploring the wide vocal range with uncanny dynamic control, and Mr. Watkins at his most poetic. The pianist was exceptional in “L’ombre des arbres“, while the singing was tinged with a sensual glow.
In a mighty mood-swing. we are suddenly on a carousel for “Chevaux de Bois“; yet even here, the excitement and energy winds down as the circling horses slow their pace. Ms. Nikolovska followed the pianist’s delicate introduction to “Green” with some of her most delicious singing of the evening, finding heaven in her final phrase. For the concluding “Spleen“, the pianist creates a mysterious mood, and the singer ‘speaks’ on one note before a moody melody emerges, which the Nikolovska voice caresses with uncanny pianisssimi.
Another treat follows with two songs by Nicolas Medtner: “Twilight” and “Sleeplessness“. The first is a hymn to nature, introduced by descending motifs from the keyboard. The song has a lovely lyrical feel, and Ms. Nikolovska’s sustained tones were again an outstanding feature. “Sleeplessness” has a dirge-like start; the singing grows more urgent, then recedes to resignation and ends with a vocalise.
In a total change of atmosphere, Ms. Nikolovska introduced Nicolas Slominsky’s Five Advertising Songs: cabaret-type numbers that extol, in turn, bed linens, bran muffins, face powder, Fletcher’s Castoria, and Pepsodent toothpaste – the last two very familiar to me from my childhood in the Little Town. Ms. Nikolovska proved a sporting, lively comedienne, moving about the stage and playing to the crowd like a carnival huckster. It was all in good fun, but the best was yet to come.
The encore – and I will find out its title and composer as soon as I can – was commissioned by Ms. Novolovska and draws on a Macedonian song. The Sun, The Moon, and The Forest are each evoked in turn. The music has an improvisational air, with melismas and winding melodies for the voice. Meanwhile, Mr. Watkins often reaches into the piano to place glissandi like a harp. The vocal line ranges from the subtlety to powerful passion, and it all ends in a whisper.
UPDATE: I now have details of the encore. The song, Zajdi, zajdi, jasno sonce, was composed by Aleksandar Sarievski, and arranged for Ms. Nikolovska by Darija Andovska.
I also found that Ms. Nikolovska gave a second encore at her recital, after I had slipped out to catch my train, Incredibly, it was the Composer’s aria from Strauss’s ARIADNE AUF NAXOS…my favorite opera. I can’t believe I missed it!
May I suggest to Ms Nikolovska that she make the arrangement of Zajdi, zajdi, jasno sonce an integral part of her recital programs. Everyone should hear it!
So now, I am in hopes that Ms. Nikolovska will return to our City before too long, and that we might hear her Wesendonck Lieder.
~ Oberon
Oberon's Glade 