Category: Opera

Cardiff Singer of the World ~ 2019

Ukranian baritone Andrei Kymach (above, photo by Alexander Andryuschenko) is the 2019 Cardiff Singer of The World. En route to winning the title, Mr. Kymach gave this vibrant performance of Count Tomsky’s narrative from Tchaikovsky’s PIQUE DAME.

Mr. Kymach joins a list of illustrious singers who have claimed the Cardiff prize since the competition was founded in 1983 – among them: Karita Mattila, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Katarina Karnéus, Anja Harteros, and Shenyang.

This year’s winner of the Song Prize is Chinese tenor Mingjie Lei (hoisting his trophy, above, in a Kirstin McTernan photo). It was Sir Bryn Terfel who won the first Cardiff Song Prize, in 1989. Watch the 2019 Song Prize final round here.

Mingjie Lei was also a finalist in the main prize competition.

June 22, 2019
Beatrice Rana|Philadelphia Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

Above: pianist Beatrice Rana

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Friday June 7th, 2019 – Yannick Nézet-Séguin – music director of the Metropolitan Opera – led his other ensemble, The Philadelphia Orchestra – in an exciting Carnegie Hall concert tonight. The all-Russian program opened with a recently discovered curiosity: Stravinsky’s Funeral Song, Op. 5, written for the memorial of his teacher, Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov, in 1908. The 12 minute work, in which Stravinsky has different sections of the orchestra take turns “laying down its own melody as its wreath against a deep background of tremolo murmurings,” was lost until 2015 when a St. Petersburg Conservatory’s librarian discovered the complete orchestral parts in the mess of the Conservatory’s renovations. Musicologists long lamented the lost manuscript as the link between Stravinsky’s early works and The Firebird. Its discovery revealed not only the links in Stravinsky’s own development, but his links to Rimsky-Korsakov’s late compositional style, which Stravinsky, late in life, tried to downplay.

Sergei Prokofiev’s popular Piano Concerto No. 3 came next on the program with the exciting pianist Beatrice Rana at the piano. This was my first time hearing Ms. Rana in a live performance, but I have admired several of her recordings for some time. What struck me about her recorded performances – and what was confirmed live – is her deeply felt, yet honest and unaffected musicality. Prokofiev’s “devilishly difficult” (Prokofiev’s own words) writing presented no technical challenge to Rana’s nimble finger work. The often spiky writing can easily become a “pound on the keyboard” type of evening. That is not Rana: her light – but never weak – touch made the pounding Prokofiev requires sound effortless and graceful. Both of those words were also true about the encore: Chopin’s Etude in A-flat major, Op. 25, No. 1 showed off the more lyrical side of Rana’s artistry.

Above: the young Sergei Rachmaninoff

The premiere of Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 1, Op. 13 in 1897 is one of the most famous musical disasters in Western art music. Composer and conductor Alexander Glazunov appears to have been drunk on the podium and unprepared to conduct the difficult score. The reaction from the public and the critics was savage: composer and critic César Cui wrote that the symphony “would have delighted the inhabitants of Hell” and that the “music leaves an evil impression.” The young composer was so devastated by the reception that he quit composing and needed a therapist (and hypnosis) to recover from the trauma. When he fled Russia during the 1917 Revolution, the score of the symphony was lost in the chaos. Interestingly, although the symphony caused him a lot of pain, it appears to have been on Rachmaninoff’s mind for the rest of his life: he quoted its dark opening theme in the first movement of his last work, the Symphonic Dances, in 1940. Since the score of the symphony was lost and no one had heard it in more than 40 years, Rachmaninoff knew the quote would be unknown to anyone but himself. He died in 1943 and two years later orchestral parts of the symphony were discovered after all, in the St. Petersburg Conservatory (again), presumably as everyone returned home after the War. A performance was quickly arranged in Moscow (US premiere was given by The Philadelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy) and finally the public was able to judge this extraordinary composition. We can safely say that César Cui’s deranged opinion was garbage; indeed, history itself has given its verdict on Cui vs. Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 1. Cui is nothing but footnote.

One thing that may have confused so many listeners in 1897 was the dark and violent tone of the work; Rachmaninoff’s vivid quotations of the Dies irae may have upset some sensitive constitutions. But the Dies irae would become a common motif in all of Rachmaninoff’s major orchestral works. In the 1st Symphony, even the haunting slow movement is more sinister than calming. Cui may have been correct that the work “would have delighted the inhabitants of Hell,” except any person of taste would have seen that as a positive. Rachmaninoff’s most famous works, Piano Concerto No. 2 and Symphony No. 2, are steeped in romanticism, their flowing, endless melodies unrolling with shameless abandon. The very different tone of the 1st Symphony, however, reveals fascinating depths.

There are few orchestras with a stronger personal and professional connection to a major composer than Philadelphia Orchestra’s is to Rachmaninoff. For a few decades Rachmaninoff played with and conducted them regularly, and he chose them when he recorded his own orchestral works. His last composition, the Symphonic Dances, were dedicated to the Philadelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy led the world premiere performance. This is music they have in their blood the way Bayreuth Orchestra has Wagner and the NY Philharmonic has Mahler. With Maestro Nézet-Séguin on the podium, this Carnegie Hall performance of Rachmaninoff’s 1st Symphony was perhaps the most thrilling and hair-raising I’ve ever heard. Nézet-Séguin’s unflagging energy perhaps a taste for the macabre was the perfect approach to this dark and sprawling work. The Philadelphians responded with a fearlessness that shook the concert hall to the rafters. Is César Cui heard this performance, he might have had a heart-attack.

Maestro Nézet-Séguin (above, in a Hans Van Der Woerd photo) is currently recording Rachmaninoff’s complete piano concertos with Daniil Trifonov and the Philadelphia Orchestra. Based on this coruscating performance of the 1st Symphony, it may be time for this group to record Rachmaninoff’s complete orchestral works. The Concertgebouw seems to do a complete Mahler traversal every few years (though the last one, with Daniele Gatti, was abandoned part-way for stupid reasons). Surely the Philadelphians and Rachmaninoff have earned a similar right? Deutsche Grammophon, are you paying attention?

~ Ben Weaver

June 15, 2019
Elīna Garanča ~ MET Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

Above: mezzo-soprano Elīna Garanča

~ Author: Oberon

Friday June 14th, 2019 – This evening, The MET Orchestra paired Mahler’s marvelous Rückert Lieder with Anton Bruckner’s sprawling 7th symphony. Yannick Nézet-Séguin was on the podium, and the soloist for the Mahler was Elīna Garanča.

As Ms. Garanča, in a strikingly Spring-like white gown, and the conductor made their way center-stage, the mezzo towered over the maestro. M. Nézet-Séguin wore a clingy white shirt that seemed calculated to show off his physique; it looked kind of silly.

The German Romantic poet Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866) was one of Gustav Mahler’s favorite poets, and he set a number of his poems to music, including the Kindertotenlieder (“Songs on the Death of Children”).

Mahler composed four of the five Rückert Lieder in 1901, initially to be sung with piano accompaniment; very soon after, he orchestrated them. The fifth of the Rückert Lieder, “Liebst du um Schönheit?” (‘If you love for beauty…’) was composed a bit later, and orchestrated by Mahler’s publisher. The songs do not constitute a formal song-cycle, nor is there any prescribed order of performing them.

Ms. Garanča began with “Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder” (“Do not look at my songs…”), in which poet and composer seem to be warning the listener not to be too inquisitive about the song-writing process: it’s the finished product that matters. This light and almost playful song was deliciously voiced by Ms. Garanča, whilst the woodwind players of The MET Orchestra buzzed charmingly about, like busy bees.

In “Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft” (“I breathed a gentle fragrance…”) the mezzo-soprano brought an intriguing mix of calm and intensity. Her use of dynamics and her lovely sustaining of the vocal line were beautifully supported by the oboe, horn, and flute. The singer’s lower range has a special warmth and glow: rich without seeming over-burdened.

A change of mood comes with “Um Mitternacht” (“At midnight”) which tells of the poet’s battle with darkness (both in the literal and and the poetic sense) until he finally leaves it all in God’s hands. Ms. Garanča brought profound beauty of tone to the song, giving it an almost operatic dimension. Her use of straight tone at times was beguiling, whilst throughout her expressive, passionate colouring of the words kept us engrossed. It seemed that the conductor allowed a passing trace of vulgarity in some of the wind playing, and he allowed the orchestra to cover the voice in the closing passages of the song.

“Liebst du um Schönheit” (“If you love for beauty…”) was the first Mahler song I ever heard, sung at a 1972 recital by the delectable Frederica von Stade. A few years later, the unique voice of Patricia Brooks gave the song a different feeling. And it’s a song I very much associate with my late friend, the Japanese contralto Makiko Narumi. The words, in translation, could have been the theme song of my long career as a promiscuous romantIc:

“If you love for beauty,

Do not love me!

Love the sun,

with her golden hair.

If you love for youth,

Do not love not me!

Love the spring,

Which is young each year.

If you love for riches,

Do not love not me!

Love the mermaid,

she has many lustrous pearls.

But If you love for love,

Then…yes! Love me!

Love me,

And I shall always love you.”

Every note and word of Ms. Garanča’s singing of this jewel of a song was simply exquisite; she seemed to savour the joy of having such a fascinating voice with which to allure us. Though once again the orchestra infringed on the voice at times, her perfect rendering of the charming “…o, ja!…” as the song neared its end gave me a shiver of delight.

I’ve never understood why a singer would end this group of songs with anything but “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” (“I have been lost to the world…”), probably the single most profound lied ever written. The poem tells of the peace achieved by the poet’s withdrawal from the turmoil of the daily life. The MET’s wind players were simply gorgeous here, infusing the music with a tender sense of longing and resignation. Ms. Garanča’s singing was haunting in its range of colour and gradations of vibrato; she drew us into that place of refuge that Rückert and Mahler have created for the soul in search of hermitage: what more can we ask of a singer?

The poem ends: “I live alone in my Heaven…in my love…in my song.” The touching opening theme is heard again from the English horn, fading to a whisper.

Above: Ms. Garanča and Maestro Nézet-Séguin performing the Rückert Lieder; photo by Steve Sherman

An over-eager fan rather spoilt the end of the mezzo-soprano’s performance with a very loud “Brava!” before the music had completely faded away. A wave of applause and cheers then filled the august Hall, where so much glorious music has been heard thru the passing decades. Ms. Garanča basked in the glow of a prolonged standing ovation, which her luminous singing so fully deserved.

Following the interval, Maestro Nézet-Séguin returned for the Bruckner 7th. This was my first live experience of this work, which begins so magically with a string tremolo from which the glorious main theme arises. Throughout most of the first movement, I felt as engaged – and even exalted – as I had expected to feel, since I like Bruckner’s music in general.

But in the ensuing Adagio, I found the performance drifting away from me. There were some iffy moments from the horns, the music seemed periodically to lose its shape, and the movement began to feel endless. The Scherzo which follows was singularly lacking in wit and sparkle, and while its tranquil – almost wistful – trio section is pleasant enough to hear, pleasant music tends to get boring after a while.

At last, the Finale is reached; I hoped that Bruckner would take the driver’s seat and careen madly to the finish line. Instead, the music came in fits and starts, seeming to fold in on itself and retreat periodically into modestly attractive wind interludes. At last: a big statement. But this was soon replaced by more dawdling. Frankly, it couldn’t end soon enough. I found myself craving Bizet’s Symphony in C.

Afterwards, I asked myself why the Bruckner 7th had seemed like such a disappointment this evening. My friend Ben Weaver suggested that perhaps it was the performance, rather than the music, that had let me down. But it’s something deeper.

In search of answers, I read some on-line articles by music-lovers who stated that Bruckner’s music often eluded them. One common theme in many of these writings was Bruckner’s seeming lack of a sex life: simplistic perhaps, but on the other hand we know that Mozart, Liszt, Wagner, Debussy, Puccini, and Mahler were men of passion, and it comes thru in their music. Bruckner’s passion seems to have been for God, and some writers went so far as to say that Bruckner probably lived and died a virgin. This may account for a feeling of sterility in some of his music, and why it doesn’t reach me. Oddly, reading about Bruckner and looking at some pictures of the man, I began thinking of Mike Pence.

Speaking of people’s sex lives, in tonight’s Playbill note about The MET Orchestra, the name of James Levine – the man universally credited with turning the opera house’s orchestra into a world-class concert ensemble – is conspicuously absent. This gloss seems so childish, but I suppose in an age when slavery in America and the Holocaust in Europe are being written out of text books, anything is possible.

~ Oberon

June 14, 2019
Ernst Kozub

Above: Ernst Kozub as Lohengrin

The German tenor Ernst Kozub’s career is not well-documented. Born at Duisburg in 1924, he developed a thriving career, singing mainly Wagnerian roles. He performed extensively throughout Germany, and also at Covent Garden and Barcelona.

John Culshaw wanted Kozub to be the Siegfried on Sir Georg Solti’s recording of the complete RING Cycle for Decca. It’s believed that ill health prevented the tenor from learning the arduous role, and he was replaced as Siegfried by the veteran heldentenor Wolfgang Windgassen.

Ernst Kozub died on December 27, 1971, aged 47, at Bad Soden, Germany. Three weeks prior to his passing, he had sung Tannhauser in Italy. The cause of his early death is uncertain; it has been attributed to leukemia by some sources, and to a chronic heart disorder by others.

Here are some samples of Mr. Kozub’s singing:

Ernst Kozub – Die Zauberflöte ~ Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön

Melitta Muszely & Ernst Kozub – Nun In Der Nächt’gen Stille ~ OTHELLO

Claire Watson & Ernst Kozub – WALKURE ~ Act I finale – London 1964 – Solti

~ Oberon

May 21, 2019
Ballets Russes @ Chamber Music Society

Above: violinist Nicolas Dautricourt, photographed by Bernard Martinez

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday May 19th, 2019 – For their final concert of the 2018-2019 season at Alice Tully Hall, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center offered a program of works by composers associated with Serge de Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. It was a long program, full of rewards.

Jennifer Johnson Cano, the Metropolitan Opera mezzo-soprano who in February shared a memorable program with tenor Matthew Polenzani at Zankel Hall, sang works by Manuel de Falla and Maurice Ravel, and a septet of marvelous musicians were heard – in varying configurations – in these, plus music by Debussy, Prokofiev, and Stravinsky.

Ms. Cano (above, in a Matthu Placek portrait) opened the concert with Manuel de Falla’s Psyché in which she was joined by Tara Helen O’Connor (flute), Nicolas Dautricourt (violin), Yura Lee (viola), David Finckel (cello), and Bridget Kibbey (harp). Composed in 1924, as a setting of a poem by Georges Jean-Aubry, this is the awakening song of Psyché, a mortal woman whose beauty has caught the eye of Cupid, god of Love, who she will eventually marry.

The flûte enchantée of Tara Helen O’Connor opens the work; the addition of M. Dautricourt’s ethereal violin and Ms. Kibbey’s delicate harp create an exotic atmosphere. Ms. Cano’s singing – clear, warm, and wonderfully nuanced – was vastly pleasing; in her unaccompanied opening passage, the sheer beauty of her tone and its evenness throughout the registers marked her as a singer of exceptional natural gifts.

Adding depth and colour to the enticing ‘orchestration’ were Ms. Lee’s viola and Mr. Finckel’s cello; overall the five instrumentalists created an impression of a larger ensemble thru the richness of their individual timbres. The music becomes urgent, and Ms. Cano’s singing golden, as flute trills and harp melismas lure the ear. Psyché this evening was an intoxicating delight.

For Maurice Ravel’s chamber arrangement of Shéhérazade, Ms. Cano and Ms. O’Connor returned, along with pianist Alessio Bax. It’s Mr. Bax’s delicate, silvery playing that sets the mood of the opening song, Asie. At “Je voudrais voir des assassins souriant“, passion builds: Ms. Cano brought an operatic quality to her performance at this point, rising to her steady and blooming upper range to fine effect. Asie has a little pendant at the end, full of lovely mystery. It ends on an exquisitely tapered note.

La flûte enchantée brings forth limpid, entrancing sounds from Ms. O’Connor’s flute, and the weaving together of voice, flute, and piano is hypnotic. The concluding song, L’indifferent, begins with a calm lullabye played by Mr. Bax. Ms. Cano’s beguiling singing, sometimes bringing straight tone into play, was a marvel of expressiveness.

Infringing on our enjoyment of the Ravel was the sound of text booklets dropping onto the floor, and a crash of something falling in the outside corridor. But Ms. Cano held to her course; this is a truly wonderful voice that I would love to hear in the music of Massenet’s Charlotte.

Above: harpist Bridget Kibbey

Mlles. O’Connor, Lee, and Kibbey then offered a sublime performance of Claude Debussy’s Sonata for Flute, Viola, and Harp, written in 1915. In an evening filled with marvelous sounds, the opening sustained flute tone of this sonata – taken up by the viola – sent chills thru me at the start of the Pastorale. The blend these three remarkable musicians produced was exceptional. A gentle animation arose – soft and merry – only to subside. Mlles. Lee and O’Connor duet, the viola deep and buzzy. Swirls of notes from the harp – and then from the flute – lingered on the air.

The Interlude commences with a viola melody underpinned by the harp, After a sprightly interjection, viola and flute play in unison, and the harp tapers to pianissimo.The viola is plucked, the music soft and swift. A percolating motif opens the Finale, like the break of dawn on a sunny day; after a momentary slowing down, the piece ends abruptly.

Prokofiev’s Sonata in D-major for Violin and Piano, Op. 94a, brought together Mssrs. Dautricourt and Bax for a fabulous performance that sparked a shouting, standing ovation from the crowd. Though the piece was composed in 1943 as a flute sonata, Prokofiev later obliged the great violinist David Oistrakh by creating a violin version, which premiered in 1944.

Mr. Dautricourt launched the sonata with a high sweet/melancholy song. As the music becomes increasingly animated, an ultra-familiar theme is heard, which will crop up several times along the way. Vibrant, agitated, march-like music ensues; Mr. Bax displays magic tricks of his own, and the movement has a lovely ending.

In the Scherzo, Mr. Dautricourt’s virtuosity is astounding. A demented, off-kilter dance commences, then slows to a high-lying interlude before resuming. The music, and the playing of it, are thrilling…and then it comes to a sudden halt.

The audience, who all evening applauded between movements, prompted the violinist to declare “Two more!” before commencing the Andante: a sorrowful song which tends to meander a bit over time, with a hint or two of of jazz thrown in; in the end it becomes high and eerie.

The concluding Allegro con brio dances along, with some respite for a poignant interlude before dancing on again. Moodiness briefly takes over, and then a rush to the finish. The applause began before the music stopped: Dautricourt/Bax are a winning team.

Lucille Chung and Alessio Bax (above, photographed by Lisa-Marie Mazzucco) joined together for the evening’s Fokine finale, saluting Diaghilev’s ground-breaking choreographer with a piano-four-hands arrangement of Igor Stravinsky’s Petrushka.

Despite more intrusions – a loud clang from the balcony, and the sound of something (or someone) falling – Stravinsky’s brilliance prevailed. For 40-minutes, the outstanding Bax/Chung duo sustained the vibrancy of a theatrical presentation; everything felt so alive – with dazzling rhythms and infinite colours – that the entire ballet danced in the mind. For their brilliant and generous playing, the couple were rewarded with hall-filling, joyous applause. What a way to end the season!

~ Oberon

May 19, 2019
From Mendelssohn @ Chamber Music Society

Above: pianist Inon Barnatan, photographed by Marco Borggreve

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday April 28th, 2019 – Music by Felix Mendelssohn, and by three composers he inspired, was on offer by Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center at Alice Tully Hall this evening. The Society drew together an international ensemble of extraordinary musicians for a program of mostly familiar works, with a Schumann gem – a piece I’d never heard, nor even heard of – thrown into the mix for good measure.

The Swedish cellist Jakob Koranyi (above in a Lisa-Marie Mazzucco photo) and Israeli pianist Inon Barnatan opened the concert with Mendelssohn’s Lied ohne Worte in D-major, Op. 109. The musicians proved to be an ideal pairing: they both play from the heart. This is a song sung by the cello, with a bittersweet melody, and an interlude that is passionate and then animated, before leading back to theme. The cellist ranges from a ravishingly sustained and tapered high note to – soon after – a plunge to the depths; the music ends with a rising phrase. A packed house called the two gentlemen back for a bow. The evening was off to a wonderful start.

Robert Schumann’s Märchenerzählungen (‘Fairy Tales‘) for Clarinet, Viola, and Piano, Op. 132, was one of the composer’s last completed works. It was written in 1853, just five months before his attempted suicide and his subsequent confinement in a mental institution, where he died in 1856 at the age of 46.

Märchenerzählungen brought forth the excellent Canadian clarinetist Romie DeGuise-Langlois (above); living as we do in a time when a number of superb clarinetists have thriving careers, it’s always a special pleasure for me to hear Romie, with her colorful tone and abundant technique. She was joined by violist Paul Neubauer and Mr. Barnatan for the four miniatures that comprise Märchenerzählungen.

The entwining of the mezzo-soprano-ranged voices of clarinet and viola was intriguing to hear: in the first movement, the music veers from playful to songful with lightness of mood, and Romie’s dynamic range – and her very pretty trill – were beautifully evident.

An almost march-like pace commences the second movement, with blithely harmonized duetting from the clarinet and viola. An ensuing darkish mood felt a bit tongue-in-cheek: was Schumann toying with us?

Mssrs. Neubauer and Barnatan open the third movement with sublime softness, joined soon by the clarinet. A wistfully exquisite blend of the three instruments – with immaculate turns of phrase – became achingly beautiful in its freely flowing lyricism. The movement’s sustained ending was very touching.

In the final movement, clarinet and viola converse, then are heard as a duo. A charming interlude, with lightly etched motifs from Mr. Barnatan at the Steinway, shifts onward to a gallant finish. The only fault I could find with this Schumann work was that it’s too short: I wanted to hear more from Ms. DeGuise-Langlois.

Paul Neubauer (above, in a Tristan Cook photo) returned immediately with Mr. Barnatan for a lustrous performance of Johannes Brahms’ Sonata in E-flat major for Viola and Piano, Op. 120, No. 2, composed in 1894. The opening Allegro amabile brings us a sweet and subtle song, followed by a passionate passage from the pianist. Things then settle into a rather pensive state, both players delighting us with their dynamic palette and their feeling for the ebb and flow of the themes. A Romantic atmosphere, with the music soft and lovely, carries us thru a change of mood.

In the second movement, Appassionato, the urgent passion of the opening statement subsides, but an underlying restlessness lingers. A hymn-like theme for solo piano lets us savour Mr. Barnatan’s artistry; joining in, Mr. Neubauer’s viola carries the melody to the instrument’s depths. In a sudden upswing, the music turns waltzy…and then finds a cool, darkish ending.

The sonata’s final movement has a simple theme; the music is slow, with an air of Bach about it. A charming dance variation crops up, playful in its quirky swiftness, which is eventually becalmed. The work ends with a multi-faceted coda. Mssrs. Neubauer and Barnatan were rightly hailed for their warm-hearted performance.

Following the interval, Mr. Barnatan had the stage to himself for “Juin – Barcarolle” from Tchaikovsky’s Les saisons for Piano, Op. 37b. This is echt-Tchaikovsky, with Mr. Barnatan relishing each note of the theme, which is thoughtful, and almost somber. Following a brief animation, descending notes bring us back to the melody. The music takes on a sort of shimmer, and then goes deep before rising to a soft, fading finish.

Above: violinist Cho-Liang Lin, photo by K C Alfred

The evening ended with a glorious performance of the Mendelssohn Trio No. 2 in C-minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Op. 66, in which Mssrs. Koranyi and Barnatan were joined by master violinist Cho-Liang Lin. The two Mendelssohn piano trios were the first chamber works to seize my attention, back at a time when I listened almost exclusively to opera.

The passion – and the abundant lyric detail – of the music was served to perfection by Mssrs. Lin, Koranyi, and Barnatan. Their performance had a polish and glow that somehow made the music sound even more gorgeous to me than it ever has. It would be hard to imagine anything more moving – and thrilling – to me on a personal level than experiencing this music (which essentially opened up a new world for me when I heard it by chance on the radio…oh!, so many years ago) played with such lustre and vitality as it was tonight. A sublime, poignant experience; all my emotions were in play.

It meant so much to me to be hearing this performance, as offered by the Chamber Music Society where – in the past few years, thanks to their generous welcome – I have had the opportunity to explore the vast chamber music repertoire, played by the great artists of our time. I became quite emotional as the trio of musicians produced one glorious passage after another tonight. And, in fact, the entire audience seemed to have fallen under a spell of enchantment.

The bows were not even off the strings when the applause commenced, the audience expressing their fervent delight with the performance – and their admiration for the musicians – in a spontaneous, full-house standing ovation. The players took a second bow as shouts of ‘bravo!‘ rang thru the hall.

~ Oberon

April 28, 2019
@ My Met Score Desk for GOTTERDAMMERUNG

Above: the Norn Scene from the Lepage/Met Opera production of GOTTERDAMMERUNG

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday April 27th, 2019 matinee – The best thing about today’s matinee of Wagner’s GOTTERDAMMERUNG at The Met was the Norn Scene. With a mood of mystery and doom evoked by Maestro Philippe Jordan and the Met Orchestra in the prelude, the three singers who were weaving the ‘Rope of Destiny’ today were Ronnita Miller, Elizabeth Bishop, and Wendy Bryn Harmer. Each sounded splendid in her own way.

Ms. Miller has a rich, deep contralto timbre; Ms. Bishop a brighter quality with a strong feeling for lyricism; and Ms. Harmer an authentic Wagnerian soprano voice: house-filling, with an ample high range. Each has a prolonged solo passage, describing much that has transpired in the first three operas of the RING Cycle.

From her lush “Dammert der Tag?“, Ms. Miller had me in her thrall: such a dusky, abundant sound. She continued to fascinate me with “Die Nacht Weicht…” and concluded the scene with a deep plunge on “Hinab!” that had an other-worldly resonance.

Ms. Bishop, who has been an excellent Dido and Iphigénie at The Met, was likewise in excellent voice today, and she brought subtlety and point to the words. Ms. Harmer’s singing was huge and grandly styled, her high notes gleaming.

As the Norns descended to their mother, Erda, my hopes were high that the vocal standard they had set would be upheld as the afternoon progressed. In the interlude before the Dawn Duet, the noble horns and the Met’s fabulous clarinetist Inn-Hyuck Cho gave a sublime build-up to the entrance of Christine Goerke and Andreas Schager as Brünnhilde and Siegfried, the latter making his Met debut today.

Ms. Goerke got off to a fine start, but – later in the prologue – her notes around G above the staff seemed a bit sour, and the high-C was there – and long – but a shade flat. Mr. Schager has a voice of helden-power, with some brassiness cropping up, and a steady beat to the tone.

The Rhine Journey was light and lively at first, and then turned epic. At the Gibichung Hall, we meet Gunther (Evgeny Nikitin, darkish of timbre and firm-toned), Gutrune (Edith Haller, debuting in a role Ms. Harmer might have doubled), and Hagen (Eric Owens, somewhat lacking in the monumental power of a Salminen or a König). The conductor tended to cover Mr. Owens at times, but the bass-baritone was chilling as he described in whispers the potion with which he would ensnare Siegfried.

Siegfried arrives at the Gibichung Hall to the sound of bungled horn calls; blood-brotherhood is sworn, and the hero’s fate is sealed. Left alone, Mr. Owens in Hagen’s Watch sang well, but seemed more efficient than thrilling, and was unaided by the conductor.

The clarinets depict a return to Brünnhilde’s Rock, where Ms. Goerke impresses as she welcomes her sister Waltraute, sung by Michaela Schuster – the mezzo whose Klytemnnestra last season was so impressive. Ms. Schuster brought a wealth of nuance to her narrative, which had a sense of intimacy as well as urgency: doom is at hand, she warns. Bringing a spine-tingling sense of introspection to her description of the resigned, weary Wotan, Ms. Schuster’s singing seemed truly personal, showing great vocal control; telling Brünnhilde that their father had spoken wistfully of her, the mezzo’s low notes were so alive. And she was simply glorious at “Erlöst war‘ Gott und Welt…” Her plea to Brünnhilde to abandon the ring causes the final rift between the two sisters: with a desperate cry, Waltraute rushes away.

The excitement as Brünnhilde senses Siegfried’s return was somewhat dulled by Ms. Goerke’s non-blooming top range. But in the final moments of the act, Mr. Schager suddenly sounded like the tenor we’d been reading about.

I would have liked to have heard Tomasz Konieczny’s Alberich in his scene with Hagen that opens Act II, but decided instead that the RING was over for me this season, and I headed home. The good has been very good, but there’s also been quite a lot of singing that left me feeling indifferent. It’s not a matter of how these operas should sound, but how they can sound.

~ Oberon

April 26, 2019
@ My Met Score Desk for TRAVIATA

Above: Placido Domingo and Anita Hartig in LA TRAVIATA; a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday April 24th, 2019 – TRAVIATA is the opera I’ve seen more than any other. Along with Tosca and Turandot, Violetta is my idea of a test role; I’ll go to see almost anyone who tries it. From A to Z – from Licia Albanese to Teresa Zylis-Gara, from Ainhoa Arteta to Virginia Zeani – I’ve experienced every kind of Violetta: good, bad, or indifferent. Patricia Brooks, Anna Moffo, and Diana Soviero remain among the most memorable in the role; and in recent seasons, Hei-Kyung Hong and Marina Rebeka have struck gold in the part. Inexplicably, I missed seeing Tucci, Sutherland, Lorengar, Scotto, and Sills as the fragile courtesan. But as Lois Kirschenbaum always said: “You can’t go to everything!”…a notion she herself seemed to disprove.

Knowing I’ll be seeing the Met’s current TRAVIATA (which some have described as Disneyesque) next season, when Lisette Oropesa takes on the role of Violetta at The Met, I took a score desk for tonight; my main reason for being there was to hear Anita Hartig, whose Mimi and Liu in recent season captivated me.

Ms. Hartig’s voice, with a mixture of enticing vibrato and curiously effective straight tone, was sadly beset by pitch problems tonight (and, from comments I have read, throughout her run here as Violetta). The voice was annoyingly sharp, at times excruciatingly so. The allure of her timbre, her sense of lyricism, and her brightish upper range should have made her a fascinating Violetta; instead, it became something of a trial to listen to her.

Stephen Costello’s Alfredo has improved considerably since I last heard him in the part, though he too showed some vagaries of pitch during the evening. I sometimes feel that Mr. Costello doesn’t sense the heartbeat of the music, but tonight he sounded like an ardent, passionate young man with reckless streak.

Hearty applause greeted the entrance of Placido Domingo, the beloved tenor-turned-baritone, as Germont. After sorting out the voice for a bit, he settled in at “È grave il sacrifizio…” and thereafter sang quite beautifully, finding a nice emotional connection to Ms. Hartig’s Violetta in the great duet “Dite alla giovine“, which is the very heart of the opera. Some small chokes or sobs, perhaps to indicate empathy, were unnecessary; but Domingo impressed by singing the phrase “Dio mi guido…dio mi guido…” in his big aria without breaking for breath.

In comprimario roles, so important in the opera, the male contingent excelled: Scott Scully (Gastone), Jeongcheol Cha (D’Obigny), Paul Corona (Dr. Grenvil), the characterful singing of Dwayne Croft (Baron Douphol), and even – in the very brief role of Giuseppe – tenor Marco Antonio Jordão, each made an impression.

Maestro Nicola Luisotti’s TRAVIATA was overall on the fast side, which is fine. He suddenly sped up the final reprise of the Brindisi, which felt exhilarating in a way, and he took “Di Provenza” at a fast clip: maybe that’s what Mr. Domingo wanted. I could have done without that aria’s cabaletta, though.

The ballet music had gypsy charm at first, and vigor as the matador theme took over. I was recalling the many times I heard it at New York City Opera, when the incredible Esperanza Galán transformed this scene with her Flamenco flair, castanets blazing.

Listening to Violetta’s touching reply to Alfredo’s public insult, “Alfredo, Alfredo, di questo core…”, I was yet again reminded of one of the most painful things in life: living with remorse.

~ Oberon

April 24, 2019
The Chéreau ELEKTRA ~ On Film

~ Author: Oberon

Patrice Chéreau’s production of Richard Strauss’s ELEKTRA originated at Aix-en-Provence in 2013, in the 1350-seat theatre there. It did not impress me when it came to The Met in 2016; though musically vivid, as a theatrical experience it got lost in the vast space of the world’s largest opera house.

The Aix performance was filmed, and released on DVD in 2014. I came upon it by chance at the library, brought it home, and was blown away by both its musical and dramatic power. It is a production that cries out to be seen up-close, and the camera work for the DVD takes us right into the action, as if from the start we are in service at the House of Atreus and watching this domestic horror-story unfold before our eyes. A brief sampling from the DVD here.

The opera’s story is absorbingly told, with some liberties taken. The shifting loyalties of the maids and other household members are cunningly delineated.

Veterans Renate Behle (visually fascinating), Franz Mazura, and Donald McIntyre make vivid impressions in smaller roles, and Chéreau’s idea of casting the beloved soprano Roberta Alexander as the sympathetic 5th Maid pays off handsomely: her singing and her portrayal are riveting, and she is hugely applauded during the bows.

Memorable portrayals in the production:

Above: Tom Randle as Aegisth is aghast at being shown the corpse of his paramour Klytämnestra.

Above, siblings reunited: Evelyn Herlitzius as Elektra and Mikhail Petrenko as Orestes; the bass-baritone makes a strong impression as the haunted son of Agamemnon.

Above, the sisters: Adrienne Pieczonka as Chrysothemis and Evelyn Herlitzius as Elektra. Ms. Pieczonka sounds fantastic in this film (of a live performance), her top notes pealing forth.

Above: Waltraud Meier as Klytämnestra. Ms. Meier’s singing, so alive with subtle inflection, did not always register at The Met, but she makes a striking impression – both vocally and visually – in the film. M. Chéreau eliminates the queen’s hysterical laughter on learning of the death of her son; I for one don’t miss it.

Above: Evelyn Herlitzius scored a great personal triumph as Elektra at Aix-en-Provence, and it is wonderful that her performance has been preserved. With a voice I would describe as “big lyric”, Ms. Herlitzius does not sing the music as we are accustomed to hearing it sung. Both in voice and in her athletic physique, the soprano seems almost youthful, though in fact she was around 50 years old when the film was made (You’d never guess it by watching her!). She powers thru the vocal demands, and shows off a secure, brightish top.

However, the pressure she has put on her instrument in such arduous music has worn the voice down over time; her 2018 Met debut performances as Kundry were disappointing, showing the effects of hard usage on her timbre, the voice sometimes ineffectual in the large space. This makes having a document of her Elektra on fine vocal form all the more valuable, for her passion and commitment are unquestionable.

You can find copies of this performance for purchase here. It’s well worth owning.

The Participants:

Elektra Evelyn Herlitzius
Klytämnestra Waltraud Meier
Chrysothemis Adrianne Pieczonka
Orest Mikhail Petrenko
Aegisth Tom Randle
Der Pfleger des Orest Franz Mazura
Ein junger Diener Florian Hoffmann
Ein alter Diener Donald McIntyre
Die Aufseherin / Die Vertraute Renate Behle
Erste Magd Bonita Hyman
Zweite Magd / Die Schleppträgerin Andrea Hill
Dritte Magd Silvia Hablowetz
Vierte Magd Marie-Eve Munger
Fünfte Magd Roberta Alexander

Coro Gulbenkian

Orchestre de Paris

Conductor: Esa-Pekka Salonen

~ Oberon

April 22, 2019
@ My Met Score Desk for CLEMENZA DI TITO

Above: Matthew Polenzani as Tito

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday April 20th, 2019 matinee – One of my favorites among the Mozart operas, LA CLEMENZA DI TITO is a melodious masterpiece. Though THE MAGIC FLUTE is considered the composer’s final opera, that work was largely complete when he set about writing CLEMENZA.

LA CLEMENZA DI TITO was something of a throw-back for Mozart: it was written in the old style of opera seria – in which a progression of set-piece (arias, duets, and small ensembles) are linked by brief passages of recitative – to celebrate the coronation of Austrian Emperor Leopold II as King of Bohemia in Prague in 1791.

This formality of structure is illuminated by some of Mozart’s most personal arias: Sesto’s “Parto, parto” and “Deh, per questo istante solo“, Tito’s “Se all’impero, amici Dei”, Annio’s “Tu fosti tradito“, Servilia’s “S’altro che lagrime“. and Vitellia’s “Non piu di fiori“, each of which ideally reflects the personality of the character singing it.

Giving the overture a nice, weighty feel, conductor Lothar Koenigs presided over a well-paced performance. A sterling continuo duo – Davis Heiss, cello, and Bryan Wagorn, harpsichord – added much to the afternoon’s pleasure, and thrilling playing from principal clarinetist Inn-Hyuck Cho (as both clarinet and basset horn soloist in “Parto, parto” and “Non piu di fiori” respectively) was a complete joy to experience.

In the title-role, Matthew Polenzani’s pliant and expressive singing flowed forth with Italianate lyricism, the voice clear and sure, etched in with detailed pianissimi along the way (most notably in “Del piu sublime soglio“) to keep the music fresh. The tenor – whose recent Zankel Hall concert was one of the highlights of the current season – showed great sensitivity in the recitatives, especially in the long scene where he weighs his feelings before passing judgement on Sesto. “Se fosse intorno al soglio” showed expert dynamic control, and the showpiece “Se all’impero, amici Dei” in Act II was triumphant.

Joyce DiDonato (above) has found a perfect role in Sesto, joining such marvels as Tatiana Troyanos , Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, and Elīna Garanča in the highest echelon of interpreters of this demanding part. Ms. DiDonato, ever alert to the words, sang with dazzling technique and a vibrant sense of dramatic urgency.

In the great aria, “Parto, parto“, Ms. DiDonato reveled in the vocal and expressive possibilities Mozart has afforded her. After displaying moving vulnerability – her hushed murmuring of “Guardami…!” was sublime – the mezzo was at her finest as she sailed thru neat-as-a-pin coloratura effortlessly (and perfectly matched by the clarinet), winning a big ovation.

Incredibly, Ms. DiDonato surpassed herself in the second act aria, “Deh, per questo istante solo” where, with touches of straight tone along the way, she sang with deep feeling, expressing the young man’s passion and remorse. In the second verse, tiny embellishments were woven in, and the aria’s fiery finish brought down the house.

Elza van den Heever is a puzzling singer: her broad repertoire – from bel canto to Strauss, Wagner and (next season), Berg – seems to indicate a soprano who has not settled on a fach. Which is fine, really, except that the varying demands of the roles she is singing seems to be affecting her tone at times, which can turn rather shrill.

As Vitellia, she was uneven in this role’s wide-ranging music, and though she touched on the high-D in Act I and successfully reached downward to the low-G in “Non piu di fiori“, the voice lacks sheer beauty and is not really all that fluent in fiorature. The highest notes – a brilliant top-B for one – popped out clearly, but seemed disconnected to the rest of the voice. I really didn’t know what to make of her performance. But for some reason, the audience – perhaps spurred on by the MetTitles – found Vitellia to be something of a comic figure; the soprano was well-received at her bows.

Emily D’Angelo as Annio seemed rather muted at first, and Ms. DiDonato simply drowned her young colleague out in their beautiful Act I duet. But Ms. D’Angelo soon made her mark on the performance, with a finely-rendered “Tu fosti tradito” capped by a nice top-A. The audience loved her.

Lovely, graceful Mozart singing from Ying Fang as Servilia, recalling Hei-Kyung Hong’s beautiful Met debut in this role. Ms. Fang, with sweet-toned lyricism, made “S’altro che lagrime” (perhaps the opera’s most attractive melody) a tender delight.

Christian van Horn was a superb vocal presence as Publio, showing the advantage of putting a stellar singer in a relatively small – but musically important – role. Bravo!

The houselights slowly came up during the opera’s finale: a celebratory touch. The singers were all warmly applauded as they took their bows on the classic Jean-Pierre Ponnelle set.

Metropolitan Opera House April 20th, 2019 matinee
LA CLEMENZA DI TITO Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Tito.......................Matthew Polenzani Vitellia...................Elza van den Heever Sesto......................Joyce DiDonato Servilia...................Ying Fang Annio......................Emily D'Angelo Publio.....................Christian Van Horn Berenice...................Anne Dyas David Heiss, Cello Bryan Wagorn, Harpsichord Inn-Hyuck Cho, Clarinet and Basset Horn soloist
Conductor..................Lothar Koenigs

Intermissions at The Met these days can often put a damper on even the best of performances, but this afternoon’s single interval brought an unexpected treat: clarinetist Inn-Hyuck Cho (above) remained in the pit for the entire half-hour, practicing the basset horn part of “Non piu di fiori”. What a mesmerizing sound! The Met is so very fortunate to have this splendid musician in their orchestra.

~ Oberon

April 21, 2019