Category: Dance

Trifonov Triumphs @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Daniil Trifonov

Tuesday December 30th, 2014 – My final musical event of the year. Avery Fisher Hall was packed with avid music-lovers as the Spanish conductor Juanjo Mena (NY Philharmonic debut) took the podium for the opening work, Capriccio espagnol by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov.

Painted in vibrant colours and dancing in dazzling rhythms, this Capriccio is a vivid evocation of Spain. Finding inspiration in Spanish folk songs, Rimsky-Korsakov cast the piece in five continuous movements: Alborada (“morning song”); Variazoni; again Alborada; “Scene and Gypsy Song”; and the fabulous Fandango Asturiano (a dance popular in northern Spain) which features the lilting sonic illusion of guitars being strummed to the jaunty clicking of castanets. The work features prominent passages for the solo violin, Sheryl Staples winning a round of ‘bravas‘ as the conductor led her forward a solo bow at the end. Likewise Carter Brey (cello), Robert Langevin (flute) and Anthony McGill (clarinet) were all embraced by the enthusiastic crowd. And the horns were having a fine night of it. Señor Mena’s debut was off to an auspicious start.

Kudos to the Hall’s stagehands who re-configured the seating and parked the Steinway front-and-center in the twinkling eye.

The appearance of the boyish Daniil Trifonov was warmly greeted; with a charismatic air of mystery, this pale young man seemed to summon up imaginings of such great pianistic wonders as Chopin and Liszt who, if we believe what is written, could cast a spell over the multitudes with their virtuosic musical wizardry and their spiritual connection to the piano itself. Mr. Trifonov was so clearly enamoured of the keyboard, caressing it with his elegantly styled hands, nearly putting his ear to the keys as if they were whispering secrets to him. Intense when in motion, he seemed to be under in the piano’s thrall, unable to resist it, like an obsessive lover. If all of this sounds high-flown, it’s thoroughly true – though of course it would all be for nought if he lacked the technical mastery to match his physical passion. But…he has massive technique: he seems to burn with it, in fact.

So it became both an aural and a visual fascination to experience his playing tonight, playing that was beautifully embraced by the orchestral sound under Maestro Mena’s articulate leadership. For all the spectacular fluency of Trifonov’s agility as his hands whisked magically up and down the keyboard, it was in the central Andante that his mystic conversation with Rachmaninoff reached us most affectingly: especially in the gentle hush of the long, slow ascent at the end.

Hailed by the crowd, the pianist gave us a solo encore played with delicate rapture. You can get a sense of the spell Daniil Trifonov casts with his playing here. And this quote from a Playbill article about the pianist says so much about him as an artist: “…he approaches his work almost as a mission, and has compared the classical performer to a pastor and the performance space to a temple of art. He is ever mindful of the audiences who, he believes, need to experience something profound and meaningful in every concert.”

Above: conductor Juanjo Mena

Maestro Mena has an Old World aura about him: passionate yet gentlemanly. His rendering of the Tchaikovsky 6th (Pathétique) symphony had great melodic breadth as well as a sense of nobility. From Judith LeClair’s pensive opening bassoon passage, the symphony bloomed sonically with some truly splendid playing by the Philharmonic’s richly gifted artists. In the midst of so much fabulous music-making, one moment stood out as exceptional: Anthony McGill’s truly remarkable – whispered – playing of the clarinet theme near the end of the first movement. This was some of the purest and truest music-making I’ve ever experienced: how daring of Mr. McGill to play it ppppp…and how gorgeously he succeeded!

The symphony’s final movement, the Adagio Lamentoso, was choreographed (more as a ritual than an actual ballet) by George Balanchine; seeming to be the choreographer’s farewell to the world, it was performed only once during his lifetime, at the New York City Ballet’s 1981 Tchaikovsky Festival. Longtime NYCBalletomanes have different memories of repeat performances, but it’s most likely true that it was seen again – just once – after Balanchine’s death, danced as a memorial. I never saw it, but I wish that I had.

December 30, 2014
There Is An Inn

“There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there’s good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a hornéd cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there’s a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
“The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master’s been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun’ll be rising soon!”

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
“It’s after three!” he said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed.”

~ JRR Tolkien

December 25, 2014
Cherylyn Lavagnino’s Salon

Above: dancers are Claire Westby, Adrian Silver, and Selina Chau of Cherylyn Lavagnino Dance in a salon-showing of Naděje, a work-in-progress by Ms. Lavagnino

Sunday December 14th, 2014 – On this cold, clear afternoon, friends of Cherylyn Lavagnino Dance gathered for a studio showing of works (and works-in-progress) by Cherylyn and by Christine McMillan, a dancer/choreographer with enduring ties to Cherylyn’s company.

The programme opened with Naděje (‘Hope’) a piece Cheylyn is in the midst of creating. Drawing inspiration from the life of Václav Havel, the great Czech writer, philosopher, dissident, and statesman, Cherylyn turns to music of Havel’s fellow countryman Leoš Janáček: the composer’s violin sonata, composed in 1914 (and later revised). The ballet calls for a large cast and the choreography displays Cherylyn’s characteristic flow of movement and her spot-on sense of structure. I look forward to following the development of this new work.

Here are a few more images from Naděje:

Giovanna Gamna, Travis Magee

Selina Chau

Justin Faircloth

Giovanna Gamna, Travis Magee in Naděje

Above: Assaf Benchetrit and Laura Mead, dancing to Rachmaninoff

A portion of an as-yet-untitled duet which Cherylyn is creating for Indianapolis City Ballet is set to piano music of Sergei Rachmaninoff. Clad in creamy white, dancers Laura Mead and Assaf Benchetrit move with impetuous lyricism thru combinations drawn from the classic ballet vocabulary but with a fresh accent.

Above: Assaf Benchetrit and Laura Mead

Cherylyn’s 2010 dancework Snap Shots is an ensemble work danced to an original score by Kyle Olson. Set in four movements, the work features a double pas de deux, a male soloist with a quartet of ballerinas, a duet for two men, and a full-cast finale. The work is spacious and animated, including a passage where two men race about the space as if pursued.

Images from Snap Shots:

Adrian Silver, Selina Chau

Adrian and Selina

Christine Luciano, Lila Simmons, Giorgia Bovo, Claire Westby

Above: Christine McMillan in her solo Woman in Dress

Christine McMillan’s self-choreographed solo, Woman in Dress, unfolds to music by Hildur Gudnadóttir and Ólafur Arnalds. The dancer, who presents an interesting mixture of feminine strength and delicacy, uses her expressive arms and hands to poetic effect. In the course of the dance she moves from ecstatic heavenward reach to elements of self-examination, a self-portrait with an intrinsic emotional quality.

Images of Christine McMillan in Woman in Dress:

Christine McMillan: Woman in Dress

The presentation ended with a performance of Cherylyn’s Ru, which premiered last season and is set to a score by Scott Killian. Inspired by the Saigon-born writer Kim Thúy’s novel of the same title, Ru, which means ‘lullabye’ in Vietnamese, depicts the flight of a young girl’s family from the Communists who have seized their home, first to Malaysia and eventually to Canada. Furtive and desperate, the women in this dancework bond together in quiet rituals; the men – in sexy costumes – alternately seem like oppressors and protectors. Scott Killian’s music provides the atmospheric setting for some of Ms. Lavagnino’s most expressive choreography.

Some of the dancers in Ru are:

Giovanna Gamna

Travis Magee, Selina Chau

Justin Faircloth

Christine Luciano

Adrian Silver

Lila Simmons and Selina Chau in Ru

December 14, 2014
Hilary Hahn/Jaap van Zweden @ The NY Phil

Above: violinist Hilary Hahn

Wednesday November 26th, 2014 – After experiencing conductor Jaap van Zweden’s performance of the Shostakovich 8th with The New York Philharmonic last week, I was very glad of the chance to attend a second concert under his baton. In addition, the evening provided my first opportunity to hear Hilary Hahn live.

The evening opened with a genuine rarity: Johan Wagenaar’s Cyrano de Bergerac Overture which was inspired by Edmund Rostand’s play of the same name. The play premiered in 1897, the concert overture dates from 1905. The overture commences with a bold statement, then waxes poetical, romantic or swashbuckling by turns. It’s a melody-rich piece; though sometimes compared to the works of Richard Strauss, there’s no hint in the Wagenaar of the absonance that tends to crop up in some of Strauss’s works.

Ms. Hahn then appeared for the Korngold violin concerto. Most widely known as a composer of film scores, Erich Wolfgang Korngold arrived in Hollywood in the 1930s, already an established classical composer. Themes from his movie scores found their way into his concert works; for the violin concerto, Korngold drew upon his music for the films Another Dawn, Juárez, Anthony Adverse, and The Prince and the Pauper. Jascha Heifetz premiered the concerto in 1947.

Ms. Hahn looked fetching in a silvery-steely strapless gown; slender and elegant, she is as lovely to watch as to hear. In the concerto’s opening movement, much of it set in the violin’s high register, Ms. Hahn displayed a truly shimmering quality of timbre. In the second movement, Romance, she caught the quality of sehnsucht that the rapturous themes evoke; and in the quirky, devilish technical demands of the final Allegro assia vivace, she really went to town, dazzling us with her virtuosity.

Ms. Hahn and Maestro van Zweden were greeted with sustained applause after the concerto; coming out for a second solo bow, the comely violinist took up her bow for a Bach encore. Tonight’s Playbill states that Hilary Hahn has not appeared with the NY Phil for a decade; she should immediately be signed for future appearances: she’s a treasurable player and we should have every possible opportunity to experience her artistry.

Following the interval, Jaap van Zweden unfurled the Beethoven 7th for us. This symphony is just about perfect: neither too short nor too long, and especially appealing in its rhythmic variety. The symphony’s first movement opens slowly (marked ‘sostenuto‘…’sustained’) and then turns animated. The famiiar allegretto that follows – one of Beethoven’s most widely-appreciated passages – has a stately sway to it. The lively dance of the ensuing Presto propels us irresistibly to the finale with its exhilarating feeling of joyous abandon. The music sailed on with Maestro van Zweden, the musicians, and Beethoven carrying the audience along on buoyant waves of sound. Richard Wagner called this symphony “the apotheosis of the dance itself…” and the audience responded with vigorous enthusiasm to the almost breathless pace which the conductor imposed in this uninhibited finale.

November 26, 2014
At Home With Wagner VII

As Summer began to transition into Autumn, I found myself with less time for my favorite solitary pastime: listening to recordings of live performances of the operas of Richard Wagner. But I spent a long time with a 1975 Bayreuth GOTTERDAMMERUNG, re-playing certain scenes repeatedly. It’s one of the most exciting performances of that opera I’ve ever heard.

The overall majesty of this GOTTERDAMMERUNG owes a great deal to the masterful conducting of Horst Stein (above). Under his remarkable leadership, the performance drew me in from the opening chord. Not only is the great span of the work honored in all its epic magnificence, but time and again Maestro Stein illuminated what I thought were familiar passages with fresh nuances of colour or dynamic.

As the First Norn, Marga Höffgen’s voice wells up from the mysterious glow of the prelude. Höffgen (pictured above) is authoritative and she sent a shiver up my spine with the line “Die nacht weicht…” (“The night wanes…”) sung with such a prophetically gloomy resonance. Wendy Fine as the Third Norn has a strong sense of urgency in her singing, and Anna Reynolds as the Second Norn is simply superb: in voice, diction and expression she brings a thrilling dimension to this music.

Horst Stein’s spacious reading of the Dawn Music has a triumphant ring, heralding the only truly happy scene in the entire opera. Catarina Ligendza and Jean Cox as Brunnhilde and Siegfried are splendidly matched, she showing a full-bodied sense of lyricism whilst the tenor’s strong, sustained singing will be a boon to the entire performance. Stein builds the rapture of their duet exctingly, a big vocal outpouring worthy of the passions they express…passions soon doomed to betray them.

Above: Jean Cox rehearsing at Bayreuth with Wolfgang Wagner

A wonderful rocking feeling pervades Stein’s reading of the Rhne Journey; we feel like we’re in Siegfried’s boat, along for the joyride. The threesome we meet at the Gibichung Hall are as strong a trio as one could hope for: power and pride of voice from Franz Mazura (Gunther), rich lyricism from Janis Martin (Gutrune), and the start of a masterful performance of Hagen from Karl Ridderbusch.

Ms. Martin (above, with Claudio Abbado) started out singing smallish roles at The Met, eventually having a major career as a Wagnerian soprano. She was my first Sieglinde, Kundry, and Marie in WOZZECK, and she really makes her mark here as Gutrune. She, Mazura, and Ridderbusch share a strong sense of verbal detailing, keeping the dramatic situation in sizzling high-profile; Cox and Mazura are very powerful in the Blood Brotherhood scene; they sail off to the Valkyrie Rock, leaving Ridderbusch to deliver a simply magnificent rendering of Hagen’s Watch, thrillingly abetted by Maestro Stein.

Above: Anna Reynolds

The scene is now set for some truly remarkable singing in the confrontation between Brunnhilde and her sister Waltraute, played by Anna Reynolds. Ms. Reynolds is a great favorite of mine; she was my first RHEINGOLD Fricka (conducted by Herbert von Karajan at a Metropolitan Opera matinee…his only Met broadcast), and a few seasons later I had the good fortune to also experience her WALKURE Fricka. All of the things I love about Reynolds’ singing are in ample evidence in this GOTTERDAMMERUNG: her timbre is truly beautiful, her registers even; she is dynamically alert and verbally keen, a very subtle colourist with a sense of majestic authority, later overcome by despair as Brunnhilde refuses to part woth the Ring. The argument between Reynolds and Ligendza is masterfully developed by Maestro Stein, Ligendza standing her ground with firm-voiced dignity. Reynolds concludes the scene on a splendid top A-natural and rushes away.

As the flames surrounding her abode leap up. Ligendza brings great lyric joy to her anticipated reunion with Siegfried; her despair at his betrayal and her realization of his deceit are finely delineated by Stein and his orchestra; the conflict and Siegfried’s brutal seizing of the Ring are excitingly realized by the singers and conductor.

Above: Gustav Neidlinger, a fabulous Alberich

Maestro Stein commences the second act with a throbbingly sinister prelude which leads to the appearance of Alberich (Gustav Neidlinger), manifesting himself in a dream to his son Hagen. This is one of my favorite scenes in the RING Cycle, and Neidlinger and Ridderbusch give it a tremendous impact, their singing and verbal nuances meshing to great expressive effect. Neidlinger (famed for his portrayal Alberich on the classic Georg Solti commercial RING) so vividly captures the restless insistence of the dwarf, desperate of regain the ring and depending on Hagen to achieve it. Throughout the scene, the two singers receive superb support from Stein.

Janis Martin makes the absolute most of every line Wagner gives to Gutrune, and then Karl Ridderbusch unleashes a tremendous “Hoi ho!”, grandly summoning his vassals to celebrate the arrival of Gunther’s bride. The chorus’s excitement seems genuine as they sing “Gross gluck und Heil!”; of course, the festive throng soon fall into epic puzzlement as the downcast Brunnhilde appears, escorted by Gunther. Mazura’s potent singing and rugged sense of nobility will make his downfall all the more tragic. The chorus, amazed by Brunnhilde’s stupor, whisper “Was ist ehr?” (“What ails her?”); the answer comes soon enough.

Catarina Ligendza shows very slight traces of vocal fatigue in this strenuous act, but scarecly enough to be a demerit to the overall impact of her portrayal. Even when somewhat taxed, she plunges bravely onward. The swearing of the oaths – potently underscored by Stein – finds the soprano a bit stressed here and there, and Mr. Cox fudges the brief high-C. But none of this really detracts from the overall thrill of the performance. As Siegfried and Gutrune leave to prepare for the ceremony, Ligendza is back on fine form in expressing Brunnhilde’s uncomprehending woe and then her unbridled fury. Mazura limns Gunther’s shame with disturbing intensity and when Brunnhilde heaps insults in him, he is filled with self-loathing. Ligendza, Mazura, and Ridderbusch then join in the final trio which bristles with dramatic fire, fanned marvelously by Maestro Stein and the orchestra.

The excellence continues with Act III: Horst Stein’s scene-painting is colourful and detailed, and I love his trio of Rhinemaidens: they blend very well, and you can hear each voice distinctly in the harmonies. Elisabeth Volkmann (Woglinde) sings so prettily, and Inger Paustian (Wellgunde) makes a fine impression as she spies the ring on Siegfried’s finger.

I’m particularly happy to have this souvenir of Sylvia Anderson (above), a singer I heard at New York City Opera in the 1970s as Octavian and as Giovanna Seymour in ANNA BOLENA. As Flosshilde, she gives a lovely mellow depth to the Rhinemaidens’ trios; it’s really nice hearing her voice again.

Unlike some Siegfrieds, Jean Cox has plenty of voice left to spend going into Act III. He really sings: no barking or hoarseness. Calling out to the hunting party from which he has wandered, Cox produces a walloping long high-C, a note most Siegfriends can’t even hit at this point in a long evening; it’s not beautiful, but it’s such a heroic touch.

In the ensuing scene, building up to the murder of Siegfried, Ridderbush is simply superb and Mazura remarkably vivid in lines that some baritones throw away. Siegfried’s narrative has a real lilt to it, and Cox is first-rate: yest abother distinctive passage from this imperturbable performer. The orchestral playing continues to shine, movingly supporting the tenor as he regains his senses after Hagen’s spear-thrust has laid him low. This leads to a grand and glorious rendering of the Funeral March by Stein and his tireless players.

Back at the Gibichung Hall, Janis Martin is again very impressive as she awaits the return of the men. The ensuing scene, with her horror at Siegfried’s demise, Hagen’s crude cruelty, and Gunther’s shame and remorse, is filled with tremendous tension: brilliant work from Martin, Mazura and Ridderbusch, ideally underscored by the valiant Maestro.

And now it’s left to Catarina Ligendza (above) to bring this mighty performance to a close with the Immolation Scene. She summons up impressive reserves for this big sing, and although traces of strain are detectable here and there, the overall sweep of the music and the fine support she gets from Stein send her sailing forward. In the great benedictive phrase “Ruhe…ruhe du Gott!” Ligendza is splendid. She then greets Grane with a fabulous top B-flat and finishes very strongly indeed. Maestro Stein brings his masterful interpretation of this epic work to a close with stunning aural vistas of fire, flood, and redemption.

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A performance of DER FLIEGENDE HOLLANDER from Vienna 1972 piqued my curiosity, mainly because of the presence of Cornell MacNeil in the title-role. MacNeil first sang the Dutchman in a series of performamces at the Met in 1968, conducted by Berislav Klobucar. His Sentas were Leonie Rysanek, Regine Crespin, and Ludmila Dvorakova. At the time my opera-going friends and I hoped that this would mark the first of many forays into the German repertoire for the voiceful baritone: we imagined him as Kurwenal, Telramund, Wolfram, Amfortas, Hans Sachs, the Wotans, Barak, Orestes, and Jochanaan. But aside from performances as the Dutchman in Seattle in 1972 and then in Vienna in the same year, MacNeil never again sang a German role to my knowledge.

MacNeil’s a most impressive Dutchman on this Vienna issue; if his monolog lacks the palpable sense of mystery and poetic longing that the greatest interpreters bring to this music, his power is ample and his sense of vocal commitment unerring. He is well-matched in Act I by the Daland of Manfred Schenk who sings strongly; the two men’s long duet here always strikes me as Wagner at his most Verdian; their singing of it is grand yet human. Adolf Dallapozza is a clear-voiced Steersman and the chorus respond heartily to conductor Otmar Suitner’s rollicking tempo for their casting-off chorus which ends the act.

Suitner sets Act II deftly in motion with the whirring of the spinning wheels; the choral voices seem girlish.

In a marvelous bit of casting, Margarita Lilowa (above) is a full-voiced, warm-toned Mary. She brings vocal appeal to a role that is often assigned to ‘character’ singers or aging Wagneriennes.

Janis Martin (above), an American mezzo-turned-soprano, loomed large in my opera-going career. A Met Auditions winner in 1962 (she sang Dalila’s “Mon coeur s’ouvre a ta voix” at the Winners’ Concert), Martin sang nearly 150 performances at the Metropolitan Opera, commencing in 1962 as Flora Bervoix in TRAVIATA. As a young opera-lover, I heard her many times on the Texaco broadcasts. She eventually moved on to “medium-sized” roles: Siebel, Nicklausse, Lola in CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA. She left The Met in 1965 and built a career abroad, moving into soprano territory. She returned to The Met and from 1974 thru 1977; in thse seasons, she was my first in-house Kundry, Marie in WOZZECK, and Sieglinde. Another hiatus, and then she was back at Lincoln Center from 1988-1992, singing the Witch in HANSEL & GRETEL, the Dyer’s Wife in FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, Senta, the Foreign Princess in RUSALKA, and two performances of TOSCA. An interesiting footnote from her second Met TOSCA:

“Because of an injury sustained at her previous performance of Tosca on 10/20/93, Janis Martin did not leap from the battlement at the end of the opera but committed suicide by stabbing herself with the knife she had retained after killing Scarpia in Act II."

Janis Martin sang a single WALKURE Brunnhilde at the Met in 1997, her final performance there. Elsewhere during her career she sang Ariadne, Isolde, and Ortrud.

On this Vienna HOLLANDER, Ms. Martin is thoroughly impressive. She is able to produce a clear, soft lyricism in the more refective passages of Senta’s Ballad and then cut loose with authoritative intensity at the climax.

Like Janis Martin, tenor William Cochran first came to notice as a Met Auditions winner in 1968. At the Winners’ Concert he and co-winner Jessye Norman sang the “Wintersturme” and “Du bist der lenz” from Act I of WALKURE. After singing several performances of Vogelgesang in MEISTERSINGER at The Met in 1968, Cochran went off to build his career and reputation, returning in 1984-1985 for two performances of Bacchus in ARIADNE AUF NAXOS (including a broadcast). You can hear him here in the final scene of Act I of WALKURE with Eileen Farrell. On this Vienna HOLLANDER he’s Erik, the most bel canto of the major Wagnerian tenor roles. He sings clearly and has a feel for the Italianate flow of this two arias.

The scene where Erik describes his nightmare to Senta and she becomes increasingly intense in her reactions – since his nightmare signals her dream come true – is finely played by Cochran and Ms. Martin. And suddenly the object of her obsession appears before her. Mr. Schenk sings his jovial, folkish aria very well – he has no idea where all this is leading. And then Ms. Martin and Mr. MacNeil embark on their great duet, a very taxing piece for both in terms of breath-support, a tessitura that lies high, and the need for expressiveness throughout. MacNeil has a couple off-pitch moments and the soprano is just a trifle tense (but still sucessful) on her highest notes. With Mr. Schenk they drive the trio forward, Ms. Marrtin setting the pace with her high-strung pledge of eternal devotion. There’s no break now leading into the final scene of the opera.

The boisterous chorus and booted dance-steps of Daland’s crew and their call to the Dutchman’s crew to join them are met with eerie silence at first; later when the ghostly sailors begin their hellish chant, the opposing forces mingle violently. Mr. Cochran’s sturdy singing of Erik’s plea cannot dissuade Senta and after hearing Mr. MacNeil’s farewell – laced with heartbreak – and his revelation of his true identity, Ms. Martin sails clearly thru Senta’s high-lying pledge of eternal faithfulness. Maestro Suitner curiously omits the redemption theme from the opera’s closing moments.

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Sheer curiosity prompted me to order this disc of excerpts from DIE WALKURE. From the details provided, this peformance seems to have been a broadcast from the Royal Albert Hall of a concert version of the opera, with the orchestra of the Royal Opera House under the baton of Sir Georg Solti. The excerpts are rather oddly chosen: an excellent rendering of Siegmund’s Sword monolog from Act I finds tenor Ernst Kozub at his considerable best. The appetite is whetted for a continuation of the scene, but instead we jump to the final few minutes of Act I, with Claire Watson an urgent Sieglinde and Mr. Kozub ever-impressive.

Then suddenly we are in Act III, with Ms. Watson being first consoled and then inflamed by the sturdy Brunnhilde of Anita Välkki. Especially fine here are the mezzos and altos among the Valkyries as they warn Brunnhilde that her plan to aid Sieglinde’s escape may falter: Maureen Guy, Monica Sinclair, and Elizabeth Bainbridge are simply super.

The main reason to acquire this disc was to hear Forbes Robinson (above), a Covent Garden stalwart and noted Handelian, as Wotan. Back in the 1960s and 70s when I subscribed to the British magazine OPERA, Robinson’s name was everywhere. I was very curious to hear what sort of Wotan he might have been, and the answer – based on this sampling – is: marvelous! His voice is ample, rich, and warm, and he comes storming on in Act III to chastise his beloved daughter. Once the Valkyries have departed, Miss Välkki and Mr. Robinson give a truly moving performance of the opera’s great final scene, abetted with grandeur by Maestro Solti. If the soprano strays from pitch once or twice, her lovely take on Brunnhilde’s mixture of vulnerability and plucky courage is very finely expressed. The basso’s is surely one of the steadiest and most vocally pleasing Wotans I’ve ever heard, making me wish that the second act, with the god’s great monolog, had also been preserved. Robinson’s performance here amounts to a revelation, actually.

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Above: conductor Eugen Jochum

And now that Autumn is slipping into Winter, I set out to select a complete live performance of TRISTAN UND ISOLDE from the several on offer at Opera Depot. I wanted to delve deeper into this opera, which over the years has somehow managed to elude my thorough devotion; my plan was to choose a recording that would hopefully inspire me, and study the score while listening.

After much weighing of pros and cons (it actually took me a couple weeks to make a final choice) I narrowed the list down to three recordings; then the Depot offered one of their 50%-off sales and I made my purchase: the performance is from the Bayreuth Festival 1953, conducted by Eugen Jochum. Within moments of putting the on the first disc, I knew I’d made a perfect choice. It’s a first-class performance in every regard, and the sound quality is very fine indeed.

Maestro Jochum is the great underlying force of this performance. From the opening measures of the prelude, with their pregnant pauses, Jochum steers a monumental course thru this score. The first voice we hear is that of a young sailor, singing from high in the rigging. The tenor is Eugene Tobin, who recently passed away. He does a beautiful job with this plaintive song: a song with a sting in its tail that rouses Isolde from her state of depressed lethargy. And we are off!

Astrid Varnay (above) is for me a very uneven singer. Aside from her recording of ELEKTRA on the Koch label, I don’t have any of her commercial recordings; but I have started to appreciate her more on these Opera Depot releases. I mulled over whether she was the Isolde I wanted to have, and indeed for the first few moments when she starts to sing, I thought that the ‘matronly’ quality I sometimes hear in her singing would be a detriment. But soon she is warmed up and she goes on to give a thrilling performance in every regard. Her lower and mid-range are on exceptional form, and the top notes trumpet out. Her dynamic control is impressive as is her shading of the text.

Ira Malaniuk (above) makes a superb impression as Brangaene, musically and textually detailed and urgently expressive. Her singing throughout Act I is compelling, and she brings a caressive softness to some passages, drawing us in.

Ramon Vinay (above) is both powerfully masculine and poetic as Tristan. As his faithful friend Kurwenal, Gustav Neidlinger barks a bit as he chides Brangaene; later he will reveal his depth of musicality and a gruff tenderness of tragic stature.

We’ve now met the main characters for Act I: Malaniuk returns from her unsuccessful errand to Tristan, and Varnay, at first subtle and then passionate, prepares to unfold her Narrative. Here the soprano is marvelous, the text vividly coloured and the singing rich and secure. Especially gorgeous is her rendering of “Er sah mir in die Augen…” as she describes the troubling glance of the wounded Tantris. Then onwards to a spear-like top B and a blazing, overwhelming curse.

Malaniuk responds with excelling lyricism and a nice, steady top G: the interchanges between her and Varnay tingle with both vocal inspiration and verbal acuity as they discuss the various potions: here Malaniuk’s singing senses the mystery and peril. It’s all thoroughly absorbing.

Varnay is imperious, grandiose as she bids Kurwenal obey his future queen and send Tristan to her at once. She then gives her orders to Brangaene, describing the potions with great intensity; their conversation again bristles with foreboding, and Varnay’s low-A at “Todestrank!” is another marvel. Maestro Jochum now draws forth the ominous build-up to the encounter between Isolde and Tristan.

This scene, which begins with a formal exchange, is perfectly underscored by Jochum’s orchestra: the buildup of tension and passion is spine-tingling, and how cunningly Varnay expresses her reasons for not having killed Tristan. As the drinking of the potion looms – with a loud interjection from the sailors – Varnay’s vocal sorcery and Vinay’s moving sense of nobility are captivating. They drink; their doom is sealed: a flood of tenderness followed by the desperate confusion of the ship’s landing and the lovers torn asunder.

As the acronical second act opens, Malaniuk’s continued perfection and Varnay’s successful lightening of the voice as they discuss Melot keep tension high. Then Brangaene/Malaniuk seeks desperately to dissuade her mistress from extinguishing the torch. Jochum’s thrilling impulsiveness as the lovers finally meet – with Varnay striking some big top-Cs – slowly settles down, and the conductor and his players steep the interlude in a misty perfume. In the love duet, the singers become poets; their urgency waxes and wanes, tenderness and rapture build and then evaporate. Malaniuk’s voice floats her warning over Jochum’s dreamy orchestra. A heroic outpouring from Varnay and Vinay…and then fate intervenes.

Ludwig Weber (above) with his huge, inky voice – full of heartbreak – is very impressive as King Marke, with a flood of painful tenderness as his narrative ends. As Tristan invites Isolde to join him in the realm of darkness, Jochum and Vinay blend is a redolent expressiveness. Then Tristan surrenders himself to Melot’s blade and in a flash, the tragedy is fulfilled.

In his doom-ladened rendering of the opening chords of Act III, Jochum again strikes at the soul. The cor anglais solo is gorgeously played. Gerhard Stolze – well-known for his Loge and Herod – shows off his lyrical aspect as the Shepherd. Gustav Neidlinger’s Kurwenal assumes epic vocal proportions here, deeply moving and drenched with humanity. And Neidlinger’s great joy as Tristan awakens is truly touching.

As madness creeps in and overtakes Tristan, Ramon Vinay veers with aching intensity from wild abandoned to fevered calm. Following a stentorian outburst, Tristan collapses; yet again Neidlinger moves us in expressing his fear that his master has died. Vinay intones a gentle “Wie, se selig”. Then the rising ecstacy as Tristan senses the approach of Isolde’s ship. The shepherd pipes up! Incredible optimism and joy: Kurwenal urges Tristan to live. But in vain: with a single rough-tender “Isolde!”, Tristan expires.

The first hints of the Liebestod are heard in the orchestra. As the steersman, a young Theo Adam (later to become an excellent Wotan and Hans Sachs), warns of the approach of another ship. Jochum now marvelously underscores Kurwenal/Neidlnger’s magnificent death. Ludwig Weber and Ira Malaniuk have their final expressions, all awash with futile despair. And then Jochum and Varnay unite for an overwhelming Liebestod.

These recordings are available from Opera Depot.

November 25, 2014
Mozart & Shostakovich @ The NY Phil

Above: conductor Jaap van Zweden

Saturday evening November 22nd, 2014 – Venturing out after my off-again-on-again cold caused me to miss some events earlier in the week, I found tonight’s finely-contrasted programme at the New York Philharmonic both soothing (the elegant, melodious Mozart) and grandly stimulating (the epic Shostakovich). It was all played to perfection, under the baton of Jaap van Zweden.

Mozart wrote his Sinfonia Concertante for violin and viola sometime in 1779; the work is cast in three movements in the traditional fast/slow/fast concerto style, the soloists backed by a neat ensemble of two oboes, two horns, and strings. Although one of the composer’s most popular works, this was my first chance to exprience it live.

Above: Sheryl Staples, Cynthia Phelps

To play this Mozart masterwork, NY Philharmonic principals Sheryl Staples (violin) and Cynthia Phelps (viola) stepped forward, much to the delight of the orchestra’s many fans. The two women struck up a lovely rapport, trading themes with silken assurance and harmonizing gracefully. Maestro van Zweden propelled the ensemble forces with stately finesse; he did not seem pleased that applause rose up after the first movement (which also happened, more annoyingly, during the Shostakovich). In the quiet radiance of the second movement, the Andante, Ms. Staples intones the opening melody which Ms. Phelps then takes up with an alto resonance. Throughout the work, the two women and the Maestro showed spot-on dynamic control and a mutual sense of phrasing that gave this listener great pleasure.

The stage setting was then re-configured to accommodate the large forces called upon by Dmitry Shostakovich for his 8th symphony, written in 1943. The composer was ever falling in and out of favor with Communist authorities; his 8th was basically proscribed as having no artistic value. This ban lasted nearly a decade, after which the symphony began to find its way. Along with Shostakovich’s other symphonies, the 8th now stands at the center of the symphonic repertoire.

Tonight’s large audience at Avery Fisher Hall were clearly enthralled to experience to piece which, in the course of its sprawling hour-long duration, veers from the bleak to the savagely intense to a darkly luminous introspection.

The half-hour opening movement is a masterful tone poem in itself; embarking on a slow build-up, it leads to fiendish outcries by the horns, massive percussive waves which evaporate only to recoil and strike again, and a marvelous, plaintive cor anglais solo. The second movement, an ironic dance with a piping flute, is followed by a second scherzo-like movement, a militaristc polka with a massive unison theme. The Largo transports us to a shadowed realm; the solo horn emerges, then flute, then clarinet; the winds take on a flutter-vibe, the clarinet returns. In the concluding movement, bassoon, flute, and cellos sing forth in succession; big, brassy waves of calamity strike, then the deep brass voices hum as the bass clarinet brings further riches. Solo violin, cello, and bassoon take turns, returning to a satiny violin passage. The massive forces are now quietened to a shimmer as the cello and double bass gently persuade us that rest, if not peace, may finally come.

Maestro van Zweden wrought this wondrous music into a sonic mural in which the horrors of war and deprivation, the Devil dancing with Fate, and the human spirit’s will to survive are painted in rich colours. The many solo voices to which Shostakovich gave such expressive opportunities displayed yet again the unfailing grace and musical stature of the Philharmonic artists.

Jaap van Zweden continues his work with the Philharmonic in the week ahead with a programme that features the Beethoven 7th along with Hilary Hahn playing the Korngold violin concerto. Details here. As we left the Hall tonight with the audience was heaping cheers on the conductor, I of course was thinking how much I’d like to hear him conduct some Wagner.

November 22, 2014
At Jennifer Muller’s Studio

Above: from Jennifer Muller’s MISERERE NOBIS, with dancer Shiho Tanaka in the left-foreground

Thursday November 20th, 2014 – Celebrating the remarkable milestone of a 40th anniversary, Jennifer Muller/The Works invited friends of the Company to a studio showing tonight. Excerpts from five Jennifer Muller danceworks – plus a complete showing of her most recent creation, MISERERE NOBIS – were performed by The Works’ distinctive, dynamic dancers.

Above: dancer Michael Tomlinson warming up

The dances shown tonight ranged in date-of-creation from 2005 (ISLAND) to Jennifer’s current and wonderfully-contrasted successes MISERERE NOBIS and WHEW! As with all the finest choreographers over time, she has delved deeply into the vast catalog of music: tonight alone we heard Allegri, Mozart, and Barber in tandem with such contemporary composers as Julia Kent, Peter Muller, and Marty Beller. One moment we are in church and the next we are being jazzed; this musical variety keeps everything at The Works fresh and vivid.

In the intimate studio space, we the viewers come as close to dance as we are likely to get. The dancers of Jennifer’s company know this room so well that they are able to dance full-out without concern for spatial limitations. Big lifts, often a motif in Jennifer’s choreography, are often accomplished with just centimeters of head-room; but the dancers all seem to have a sixth sense of just how far they can take things.

The programme was so well-devised, with Jennifer’s illuminating commentary between works just enough to give us insight without becoming too chatty. The dancing was vivid and personal.

I attempted to take some photos but most of the movement was too swift for me to capture. Gen Hashimoto (above) was briefly almost still in his beautifully-executed solo from ARIA, performed to the poignant “Dalla sua pace” from Mozart’s DON GIOVANNI.

Otherwise, my only successful images came from MISERERE NOBIS which happens to be a particular favorite of mine from among Jennifer’s works. Here are a few photos from this all-female ensemble work:

Elise King

November 20, 2014
Eryc Taylor Dance: New Choreography

Saturday November 15th, 2014 – Eryc Taylor Dance, Inc. presented an evening of danceworks by the three recipients of the 2014 ETD New Choreography Grants: Daniel Holt, Ana C. Sosa, and Eryn Renee Young. The performance took place at the Martha Graham Dance Center on Bethune Street.

Glancing out the window of the big Graham studio/theater while waiting for the performance to begin – the Empire State Building looking all silvery and shining – I was thinking of all the wonderful hours I have spent there in the past few years. In his opening remarks, Eryc Taylor expressed a similar affinity for the space where he worked with Merce Cunningham for five years.

And then the dancing began.

Eryn Renee Young’s Symphonie Miroir opened this concert of three well-contrasted works. To percolating music by Bela Bartok, the work commences with the girls (on pointe) in a diagonal; the music – plucked and skittery – sets off the dancers in contemporary stylings of classic ballet vocabulary. Isaac Owens, the group’s lone male, dances a dynamic pas de trois with Jasmine Chiu and Jacline Henrichs. A musical ‘explosion’ ignites the finale, a pas de sept which features pose-striking and breaking down the group into sub-units, with brief solo passages assuring that all the dancers have their chance to shine. Building a pulsing finale, there’s a sudden unexpected lull as the music turns a bit spacey; then a push onward to the finish. Ms. Young’s choreography showed a fine sense of exploring space and a knack for visual polyphony. And she gets extra roses and champagne for choosing Bartok.

Ana Sosa danced in her own work, The Logical Road to Insanity, with a quartet of fellow dancers who all seemed so young. Ms. Sosa chose some interesting vocal music, from Fleet Foxes and Cocorosie, which included ear-tweaking harmonies. The quintet of dancers work in-sync, with occassional passages of solo work, notably a somewhat B-boyish moment for Cesar Brodermann. Ms. Sosa’s accomplished use of floor work and of a gently ironic tip-toeing motif underscored the signs of impending mental collapse among the dancers; at one point the music goes totally looney, and the choreographer’s fleeting self-solo showed her on the brink of madness. It was all done well, and performed with commitment by the youthful cast, right down to the silent ending.

Daniel Holt, that charismatic Dirty dancer, brought out a trio of girls to dance with him in Bermuda. They all wore black shorts, bright-coloured cartoonish tank tops, and black socks. Things start casually, almost slow-mo, and then a grinding beat develops. Spastic synchronized movement with breakout solos and detached walkabouts underscore the complex approach-avoidance relationships of the foursome, all laid out with raw physicality. They collapse, but rise again for the work’s most haunting passage – an entangled quartet set to Owain Phyfe’s recording of ‘La prima vez‘: a highlight of the evening.

Pressing onward to a dark, dense beat, there are stylized clusters, escapes, and outright antagonism. Then the music suddenly takes on a celestial quality, with a deep bass underglow, as the dancers – in spastic gestures – attempt to communicate. But this dissolves in the end, and one of the girls gives Daniel the finger…which he kisses.

‘La prima vez’ translation:

“The first time I saw your eyes
I fell in love with you.
I loved you from that moment
And until the grave, I will love you.
Come close to me, my dear one,
You have saved me.
Discover me and tell me/open yourself and tell me
Your life’s secrets.”

November 15, 2014
Celebrating 70 Years of APPALACHIAN SPRING

Above: Mariya Dashkina Maddux and Lloyd Mayor in Martha Graham’s APPALACHIAN SPRING; photo by Hibbard Nash

Thursday October 30th, 2014 – Friends of the Martha Graham Dance Company gathered this evening at the Company’s home space on Bethune Street to celebrate the 70th birthday of the great American dance classic, APPALACHIAN SPRING. The event, Appalachian Spring Up Close and Personal – a complete performance of APPALACHIAN SPRING in costume and with the classic Noguchi set pieces – came on the exact 70th anniversary of its premiere, October 30, 1944.

This once-in-a-lifetime event also featured film clips and projected photographs from the premiere, and a spoken introduction with quotes from Martha Graham’s correspondence with Aaron Copland at the time of the ballet’s creation. Mariya Dashkina Maddux headed the cast in Graham’s role of The Bride. She was joined by Lloyd Mayor, Natasha Diamond-Walker, Lloyd Knight, Xiaochuan Xie, Ying Xin, Charlotte Landreau, and Lauren Newman. This was my first opportunity to see Masha, Natasha, and Lloyd Mayor in these roles; Lloyd Knight repeated the role of the Preacher in which he was wonderfully cast during the Company’s City Center season earlier this year.

This brief film features some of the dancers who have performed the principal roles in this ballet over the years.

Janet Eilber, the artistic director of the Martha Graham Dance Company, is always such a wonderful hostess at Company events. Her speaking voice falls pleasingly on the ear and the information she imparts is always meaningful and illuminating to the dance we are about to see. This evening, Janet’s voice faltered tearfully as she spoke the names of the immortal dancers who first performed APPALACHIAN SPRING seventy years ago: Martha Graham, Erick Hawkins, May O’Donnell, and Merce Cunningham.

And then APPALACHIAN SPRING unfolded before us in all its heartfelt glory, the dancing taking place just a few feet away from us. The timeless simplicity of the Noguchi setting tells us immediately where we are; and for tonight we seemed in fact to be very much a part of the action, like observant guests at the wedding.

Mariya Dashkina Maddux gave a powerfully poetic interpretation of the role of The Bride, her eyes shining and filled with hope, her body fluently expressive. Lloyd Mayor’s Husbandman danced with a spacious energy that could fill the Great Plains. In both the expansive and the intimate moments of this role, Lloyd’s handsome presence was captivating. Together Masha and Lloyd brought all the hopes of youth and forward-looking courage to their portrayals of this iconic couple.

Natasha Diamond-Walker, lithe and elegant of posture and surpassingly fair of face, danced vividly as the Pioneering Woman. The strength of her dancing matches the character’s strength of virtue, yet Natasha was also deeply feminine in her portrayal and in her womanly rapport with Masha’s young Bride. Lloyd Knight’s Preacher was a powerful force in his stillness and a dynamic force when he danced. His vivid delineation of the steps underscored the great demands Graham puts on her dancers: technique and theatrical nuance must mesh in perfect balance. These demands extend to the quartet of Followers – Xiaochuan Xie, Ying Xin, Charlotte Landreau, and Lauren Newman – who have a great deal of tricky dancing to do, though we tend to view them more for their decorative loveliness.

The performance overall marked one of the most engrossing and meaningful dance experiences in my long ‘career’, in part because of the intimacy of the setting, and also because of the sense of dance as a resonating continuum that draws us ever back into the past whilst time and the universe sail inevitably forward. Evenings like this serve as illuminated markers on our journey.

In a beautiful gesture at the end of the performance, the Lloyds (Mayor and Knight) presented bouquets to Janet Eilber and to Denise Vale, the Company’s senior artistic associate. Both Janet and Denise have danced the Pioneering Woman in APPALACHIAN SPRING, and thus the sense of lineage in the realm of Graham was graciously underscored.

October 30, 2014
BalletCollective @ The Skirball

Above: Troy Schumacher, photo by Matthew Murphy

Wednesday October 29th, 2014 – The dancing tonight as Troy Schumacher’s BalletCollective opened at The Skirball was fantastic. Drawing from the roster of his resident Company, New York City Ballet, Troy presented an ensemble of dancers with spectacular technical and communicative gifts.

The program opened with the impulse wants company (premiered in 2013), set to a score by Ellis Ludwig-Leone, and drawing inspiration from a poem by Cynthia Zarin. The music was played live (as in fact was the entire programme) the contemporary ensemble Hotel Elefant.

Above: Claire Kretzschmar, photo by Matt Murphy

Long-limbed and with an innate sense of the dramatic, Claire Kretzschmar launched the evening in a solo passage. This distinctive NYCB ballerina really made her mark tonight, Troy’s choreography showing her off to fine effect in both the opening and closing works. (Meet Claire in this video, in which the Collective’s Taylor Stanley also appears.) She is soon joined by Ashley Laracey, Lauren King, Meagan Mann, David Prottas, Taylor Stanley, and Troy Schumacher. This dynamic group highlighted Troy’s inventive choreography with propulsive energy mixed in with moments of pensive repose. A spectacular solo by Taylor Stanley left me feeling awestruck.

Above: Ashley Laracey and Troy Schumacher, photo by Matt Murphy

Following the interval, the premiere of a new duet, dear and blackbirds, was danced by Ashley Laracey and Troy Schumacher to music by Ellis Ludwig-Leone; again, a poem by Cynthia Zarin was the frame of reference. Troy had not originally planned to dance in the performance this evening, but he stepped in on short notce after a colleague sustained an injury. This pas de deux had a Jerome Robbins flavour, the couple exploring the possibilities of mutual interest, alternately hesitant and impetuous. Romantic partnering with touches of playfulness give way to the two dancers trading short phrases. Ashley Laracey displayed the lovely qualities of lyricism that have kept her shining in my dance firmament since I first saw her onstage.

Above: Taylor Stanley, photo by Matt Murphy

In all that we see, the addition of wind players to the strings and piano gave the sonic landscape a fresh vista. Meagan Mann, Lauren King, Claire Kretzschmar, David Prottas and Taylor Stanley all danced exceptionally well. Claire again made superb use of the space and she has a restless angularity that draws the eye. There’s a very nice duet for Lauren and Taylor, and Meagan at one point enters in a tip-toeing motif, adding a sense of mystery. David and Taylor came face to face in a dramatic moment: I thought they might punch each other…or kiss.

In an evening so well-danced and featuring choreography which reaches for new combinations in a familiar vocabulary, a lack of contrast in the musical settings was a minor drawback. The composer of all three works has definite skill and his music is appealing, yet a whole evening of it doesn’t quite hold up. The musicians of Hotel Elefant were excellent and warmly acknowledged by the audience.

The Skirball stage was stripped back to the bare back wall and wings, giving the ballets an industrial look. The lighting design produced some striking moments, but at times the dancers were too heavily shadowed. The costuming had an every-day feeling in the first two works; a credit to artist David Salle for painting the clothes for all that we see piqued my curiosity but from where I was sitting I couldn’t get a feel for his work. The big projections that were a key element in the Collective’s inaugural presentations weren’t part of the current presentation, but the dancers and the dance successfully held the stage in this rather stripped-down setting. The evening drew a real New York dance crowd, laced with celebrities and keen in their attentive focus.

All photography by the marvelous Matthew Murphy.

October 29, 2014