Category: Opera

Forgotten Voices: Rudolf Ritter

I came upon the voice of Rudolf Ritter by chance while sampling recordings of different tenors in the music of Verdi’s Otello.

Rudolf Ritter – Otello’s Death ~ OTELLO – in German

Following service in the Austro-Hungarian army (1898-1908), Rudolf Ritter studied singing at the Vienna Music Academy. In 1910 he made his debut at the Volksoper in Vienna, where he sang until 1913; he then joined the Hofoper in Stuttgart, where he made a name for himself as a leading artist for twenty years, singing in world premieres by Braunfels and Zemlinsky as well as the standard repertory.

Ritter joined a touring group, the German Opera Company, in 1923. In North America, he sang at Chicago and in Kienzl’s “Der Evangelimann“ in New York City. He appeared at the Bayreuth Festival from 1924-1930 as Siegfried and Tannhäuser, and in 1926 he scored a major success with performances in South America.

From 1929-1931 season, Ritter was again touring North America with the German Opera Company, along with soprano Johanna Gadski. He made guest appearances at London’s Covent Garden, the Paris Opéra, Vienna Staatsoper, and Zurich. In 1927 at the Zoppot Festival, he sang Siegfried in “Götterdämmerung“.

Rudolf Ritter retired from the stage in 1933, settling at Stuttgart where he taught and coached. He was married to the pianist Gret Hein. He passed away in 1966.

Ritter’s rounded, steady tone sounds really good in Wagner:

Rudolf Ritter – Allmächtǵer Vater ~ RIENZI

Rudolf Ritter – Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond ~ WALKURE

~ Oberon

December 25, 2018
Licia’s Last Butterfly

On Friday, November 26, 1965, I went to a performance of MADAMA BUTTERFLY at the Metropolitan Opera House. On the following day, I had an operatic double-header: a matinee of ELISIR D’AMORE and an evening performance of FAUST. That Saturday marked the last time I ever set foot in the Old Met. The venerable theatre had been marked for demolition, while a New Met was rising at Lincoln Center.

The eight performances I saw at the Old House are very special memories for me. The singers I saw there had become gods and goddesses to me thru their singing on the Texaco Metropolitan Opera radio broadcasts; I was now experiencing ‘live‘ the rituals Milton Cross described each week over the airwaves: the house lights going down, the applause greeting the conductor, the great gold curtain being drawn back for the curtain calls. It was like a dream come true.

Licia Albanese’s was one of the first operatic voices I became familiar with. She was one of the singers on the first 2-LP set of opera arias and duets that I owned. She sang Liu on a memorable Met broadcast of TURANDOT in 1962, opposite Nilsson and Corelli. And my parents had taken me to see her as Violetta (her 100th performance of the role) at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera in 1963.

In all honesty, Albanese’s voice was never really among my favorites; it was more her expressive intensity of communication and her endearing persona that I found appealing. But I understood her importance as a singer in the grand tradition, and if her singing of the Violetta and Butterfly that I saw could turn dry and almost ghostly, I can still vividly recall her stage presence and her instinctive if Olde School acting.

What I did not realize as I watched Licia Albanese taking her bows after that 1965 Butterfly was that it was the final time she ever sang the role. After playing Cio-Cio-San some eighty times on that stage, this was to be the last. Like many performances I have experienced, the evening became iconic over time when measured as part of the singer’s career.

I met La Licia after the performance – I was one of a sizeable group of admirers who had waited for her – and she was of course elegantly gowned and coiffed, chattering away to her fans in Italian. She signed my program with a flourish:

It was a happy crowd of fans and friends, and no mention was made of it being “her last Butterfly”. She did sing one more complete role at The Met: Manon Lescaut; and the following Summer she sang Mimi in LA BOHEME with Barry Morell in a concert presented by The Met at the Newport Festival.

A few days after the performance, I sent her a fan letter and received this photo in return, along with her calling card:

Licia Albanese – Ancora un passo or via ~ MADAMA BUTTERFLY

There were two further memorable moments related to the Old Met and to MADAMA BUTTERFLY in Albanese’s extraordinary life: at the gala farewell concert that marked the closing of the Old Met on April 16th, 1966, Licia sang the aria “Un bel di” and, during the applause, she knelt to place a kiss on the stage where she had appeared so frequently since her debut in 1940:

Once the demolition of the ‘old yellow brewery’ began, Licia donned her kimono and sang “Un bel di” one last time amid the ruins.

But my connection with the legendary diva was not over. One evening during the first season at the New Met, I saw her among the audience on the Grand Tier during intermission. She was talking with another elegantly-gown lady as I approached them hesitantly. The other woman gave me an encouraging smile, so I took Madame Albanese’s hand and awkwardly told her of having seen her Violetta and Butterfly. She thanked me quietly, but kept hold of my hand. Then she turned to her friend and said, in her charming accent: “It is so wonderful to be remembered! He’s so young, he will tell people about me many years from now.”

Then, some thirty-five years on, I was holding down the fort in the opera room at Tower Records one dreary afternoon when Licia Albanese came in with a companion; the soprano was rather feeble by that point in time, but when I greeted her, she smiled silently. I said to her, “I saw your one hundredth Violetta at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera!” She was silent for a moment, and I thought my remark had not registered. Her friend gave me a look as if to say that Madame’s mind might not be perfectly clear.

“The Zoo!” said the diva firmly. Then she began to roar like a lion and sing little birdcalls and make noises like chattering monkeys. Anyone who has ever attended a performance at the Cincinnati Zoo will know that these sounds were always a continuous obbligato to the opera being performed. We all laughed. And then I bade the two women goodbye, thinking to myself – as I have so often – “What a life I am living!”

Above: Licia Albanese at age 93; she passed away in 2014 at the age of 105.

~ Oberon

December 24, 2018
Licia’s Last Butterfly

On Friday, November 26, 1965, I went to a performance of MADAMA BUTTERFLY at the Metropolitan Opera House. On the following day, I had an operatic double-header: a matinee of ELISIR D’AMORE and an evening performance of FAUST. That Saturday marked the last time I ever set foot in the Old Met. The venerable theatre had been marked for demolition, while a New Met was rising at Lincoln Center.

The eight performances I saw at the Old House are very special memories for me. The singers I saw there had become gods and goddesses to me thru their singing on the Texaco Metropolitan Opera radio broadcasts; I was now experiencing ‘live‘ the rituals Milton Cross described each week over the airwaves: the house lights going down, the applause greeting the conductor, the great gold curtain being drawn back for the curtain calls. It was like a dream come true.

Licia Albanese’s was one of the first operatic voices I became familiar with. She was one of the singers on the first 2-LP set of opera arias and duets that I owned. She sang Liu on a memorable Met broadcast of TURANDOT in 1962, opposite Nilsson and Corelli. And my parents had taken me to see her as Violetta (her 100th performance of the role) at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera in 1963.

In all honesty, Albanese’s voice was never really among my favorites; it was more her expressive intensity of communication and her endearing persona that I found appealing. But I understood her importance as a singer in the grand tradition, and if her singing of the Violetta and Butterfly that I saw could turn dry and almost ghostly, I can still vividly recall her stage presence and her instinctive if Olde School acting.

What I did not realize as I watched Licia Albanese taking her bows after that 1965 Butterfly was that it was the final time she ever sang the role. After playing Cio-Cio-San some eighty times on that stage, this was to be the last. Like many performances I have experienced, the evening became iconic over time when measured as part of the singer’s career.

I met La Licia after the performance – I was one of a sizeable group of admirers who had waited for her – and she was of course elegantly gowned and coiffed, chattering away to her fans in Italian. She signed my program with a flourish:

It was a happy crowd of fans and friends, and no mention was made of it being “her last Butterfly”. She did sing one more complete role at The Met: Manon Lescaut; and the following Summer she sang Mimi in LA BOHEME with Barry Morell in a concert presented by The Met at the Newport Festival.

A few days after the performance, I sent her a fan letter and received this photo in return, along with her calling card:

Licia Albanese – Ancora un passo or via ~ MADAMA BUTTERFLY

There were two further memorable moments related to the Old Met and to MADAMA BUTTERFLY in Albanese’s extraordinary life: at the gala farewell concert that marked the closing of the Old Met on April 16th, 1966, Licia sang the aria “Un bel di” and, during the applause, she knelt to place a kiss on the stage where she had appeared so frequently since her debut in 1940:

Once the demolition of the ‘old yellow brewery’ began, Licia donned her kimono and sang “Un bel di” one last time amid the ruins.

But my connection with the legendary diva was not over. One evening during the first season at the New Met, I saw her among the audience on the Grand Tier during intermission. She was talking with another elegantly-gown lady as I approached them hesitantly. The other woman gave me an encouraging smile, so I took Madame Albanese’s hand and awkwardly told her of having seen her Violetta and Butterfly. She thanked me quietly, but kept hold of my hand. Then she turned to her friend and said, in her charming accent: “It is so wonderful to be remembered! He’s so young, he will tell people about me many years from now.”

Then, some thirty-five years on, I was holding down the fort in the opera room at Tower Records one dreary afternoon when Licia Albanese came in with a companion; the soprano was rather feeble by that point in time, but when I greeted her, she smiled silently. I said to her, “I saw your one hundredth Violetta at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera!” She was silent for a moment, and I thought my remark had not registered. Her friend gave me a look as if to say that Madame’s mind might not be perfectly clear.

“The Zoo!” said the diva firmly. Then she began to roar like a lion and sing little birdcalls and make noises like chattering monkeys. Anyone who has ever attended a performance at the Cincinnati Zoo will know that these sounds were always a continuous obbligato to the opera being performed. We all laughed. And then I bade the two women goodbye, thinking to myself – as I have so often – “What a life I am living!”

Above: Licia Albanese at age 93; she passed away in 2014 at the age of 105.

~ Oberon

December 23, 2018
First Voice

Above: tenor Barry Morell

Opera lovers: who among you can remember the very first voice you heard in a live opera performance? I’m not talking about recordings, broadcasts, telecasts, or DVDs, but actually being there.

For me it was tenor Barry Morell, singing the Duke of Mantua in a performance of RIGOLETTO at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera in 1962.

I don’t have an MP3 of Barry Morell as the Duke, but here he is in the passionate aria of Maurizio from ADRIANA LECOUVREUR; his voice is warm, with a nice Italianate ring to it:

Barry Morell – La dolcissima effigie – ADRIANA LECOUVREUR

By 1962, Barry Morell was well-established at The Met, having debuted there in 1958 as Pinkerton in MADAMA BUTTERFLY opposite the Cio-Cio-San of Victoria de los Angeles. In the ensuing years, he sang more than 250 performances with The Met, in New York City and on tour. His co-stars were some of the Met’s reigning divas: his first Tosca was Licia Albanese, his first MImi was Renata Tebaldi, and in his first Met Duke of Mantua, Elisabeth Söderström sang Gilda.

After that initial RIGOLETTO at Cincinnati, we returned for two more Summers, seeing Barry Morell as Alfredo in TRAVIATA (Albanese was singing her 100th Violetta that night) and as des Grieux in Massenet’s MANON, with Adriana Maliponte singing the title-role.

On November 26, 1965, Licia Albanese sang her last Madama Butterfly at The Met; Barry Morell was her Pinkerton. I was there.

In the Summer of 1966, we went up to Saratoga where the Philadelphia Orchestra was giving FLEDERMAUS in concert, conducted by Eugene Ormandy. Barry Morell was Alfredo, with Hilde Gueden (Rosalinda), Roberta Peters (Adele), and Kitty Carlisle (Prince Orlofsky).

Soon after that FLEDERMAUS, I made made first solo trip to New York City to join the first ticket line for the opening season at the New Met. Among the performances I saw in the first season or two at the Lincoln Center venue were TRAVIATA in which Barry Morell’s Violetta was Anna Moffo, and a BOHEME with Morell and Tebaldi.

Barry Morell sang at The Met until 1979; he passed away in 2003.

~ Oberon

December 21, 2018
Met Opera All-Stars

Helping Placido Domingo celebrate the 50th anniversary of his Met debut, four great stars who sang with him often came backstage to greet the “tenoritone” after his prima of GIANNI SCHICCHI. Above: Sherrill Milnes, Martina Arroyo, Placi, Teresa Stratas, and James Morris in a Met Opera photo.

Having already seen him several times at New York City Opera, I was at Placido Domingo’s Met debut – the night he stepped in (on very short notice) for Franco Corelli – as Maurizio in Cilea’s ADRIANA LECOUVREUR:

My fondest memory of that evening was of Renata Tebaldi, as Adriana, turning her back on the audience so that Placi could look over her shoulder to watch conductor Fausto Cleva during his Act I aria, “La dolcissima effigie“. During the ensuing ovation, Renata kept patting Domingo’s shoulder and saying “bravo! bravo!” They went on to be good colleagues and friends:

While that ADRIANA was Domingo’s first performance from the Met stage, he had sung a single concert performance of CAV & PAG with the Company at Lewisohn Stadium in August, 1966:

Metropolitan Opera @ Lewisohn Stadium August 9th, 1966 In Concert
CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA Mascagni Santuzza................Irene Dalis Turiddu.................Plácido Domingo [First appearance] Lola....................Joann Grillo Alfio...................Russell Christopher Mamma Lucia.............Carlotta Ordassy
Conductor...............Kurt Adler

Sherrill Milnes had made his Met debut during the final season at the Old Met (in the same performance of FAUST that Montserrat Caballé made hers); Martina Arroyo and Teresa Stratas had already established themselves at the Old Met by the time the Company moved to Lincoln Center. James Morris made his Met debut in 1971, and I saw him there in one of his very first performances, as Raimondo in a student matinee of LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR.

Now let’s hear from each singer in the “reunion” photo at the top:

Martina Arroyo – Ritorna vincitor! – AIDA – Buenos Aires 1968

GHOSTS OF VERSAILLES ~ final scene – Teresa Stratas & Hector Vasquez – Met bcast 1995

James Morris – RHEINGOLD ~ Abendlich Strahlt Die Sonne – w M Lipovsek

Sherrill Milnes joins Domingo on the final note of their OTELLO duet…such an exciting moment:

Domingo & Milnes – OTELLO duet – Met bcast – 2~2~85

To finish this reminiscence, here’s Domingo in a opera The Met could/should have staged for him, Meyerbeer’s L’AFRICAINE:

Placido Domingo – O Paradis! – L’AFRICAINE

~ Oberon

November 29, 2018
Elena Zilio Today

Mezzo-soprano Elena Zilio (above) made her operatic debut in 1963 and went on to sing dozens of roles – everything from Cherubino to Dame Quickly – throughout the world.

One of my favorite Zilio souvenirs is her passionate singing of Suzuki, Madama Butterfly’s faithful servant who, in this trio, foresees the story’s tragic ending:

BUTTERFLY scene Zilio P Dvorsky Stilwell Chicago 1985

Here she sings the aria of a distraught mother, Rosa Mamai, from Cilea’s L’ARLESIANA:

Elena Zilio – Esser madre e un inferno ~ L`Arlesiana

More recently, Elena Zilio has carved out a lovely niche for herself in character roles.

Earlier this year, Ms. Zilio had a personal triumph as Mamma Lucia in CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA at Covent Garden. In 2019, she alternates that role and Madelon in ANDREA CHENIER in performances at Firenze, Naples, London, and Munich.

~ Oberon

November 26, 2018
Jeannine Crader

Above: Jeannine Crader and Placido Domingo in Ginastera’s DON RODRIGO; photo by Fred Fehl

Soprano Jeannine Crader was a member of the San Francisco Opera’s Merola Program in the late 1950s, and sang Magda Sorel in Menotti’s THE CONSUL with the San Francisco Opera’s Spring Program in 1969.

She performed with the Metropolitan Opera Studio Company (above, in COSI FAN TUTTE, with Gimi Beni and Marcia Baldwin) before joining New York City Opera where she sang in the US premiere of Alberto Ginastera’s DON RODRIGO, opposite Placido Domingo, in 1966.

I saw Ms. Crader only once – as Donna Elvira at New York City Opera in 1966. With the Company, she also sang Tosca, Butterfly, and Giorgetta in IL TABARRO. In 1967, she and Domingo sang in ANDREA CHENIER together at the Cincinnati Opera.

Ms. Crader appears on Maurice Abravanel’s recording of the Mahler 8th, and there is a complete recording of DON RODRIGO available from Opera Depot. Beyond that, I can only find two Puccini souvenirs, both with Mr. Domingo:

Jeannine Crader & Placido Domingo – E Ben Altro Il Mio Sogno ~ TABARRO – NYCO 1968

Jeannine Crader & Placido Domingo – TOSCA scene ~ Act III – NYC Opera

Jeannine Crader sings a William Mayer duet, “Barbara, What Have You Done?” with Dorothy Renzi (audio only) on YouTube. I like it a lot.

Ms. Crader taught at the University of North Texas from 1970-1997.

~ Oberon

November 25, 2018
@ My Met Score Desk For PEARL FISHERS

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday November 24th, 2018 matinee – The New York City Opera used to perform Georges Bizet’s Pêcheurs de Perles fairly often, and I saw it there four times in the 1980s with such sopranos as Diana Soviero, Carol Vaness, Diana Walker, and the enchanting Rachel Rosales; tenors Barry McCauley and Jerry Hadley; and baritones Dominic Cossa, William Stone, and Robert McFarland. During that time of my life, I really liked this melodious opera, with its enchanting soprano aria, a poetic (and difficult) tenor aria, and – of course – a beloved duet for tenor and baritone: “Au fond du temple saint“.

But there’s also a lot of filler, atmospheric in its way yet in the long run just…filler. Pêcheurs was not on my initial list of operas to see/hear at The Met this season; but as I was tallying up my score desk order, I added a couple of operas just to see if they’d still be of interest to me. Pêcheurs, as it turns out, isn’t.

I had skipped this Met production of Pêcheurs when it was new, because I’d taken a strong dislike to Diana Damrau. This season, Pretty Yende is singing Leïla, a part which I imagined would suit her voice far better than Donizetti’s Lucia had. “O Dieu Brahma!” is not the easiest way to start your afternoon. Ms. Yende’s florid singing was not always fluent, and at times her pitch was a shade off; counter-balancing this were an ethereal high B-flat and a gorgeous high-D. I imagine her “Comme autrefois” would have been quite fine, but I couldn’t outlast the intermission to find out.

Alexander Birch Elliott had stepped into the role of Zurga midway thru the season prima of Pêcheurs, replacing Mariusz Kwiecien, who has now withdrawn from the production due to illness. Mr. Elliott has a handsome lyric baritone voice, and he blended perfectly with Javier Camarena in their famous duet, which drew sustained applause.

Mr. Camarena’s singing of the dreamy aria “Je crois entendre encore” was lovingly phrased, with exquisite piano effects. His voice is a bit light for this role in the big house, but it’s wonderfully present and expressive.

On the podium, Emmanuel Villaume did what he could with this perfumed score, giving an atmospheric prelude (twice interrupted by applause); he sometimes let his orchestra cover the voices, however.

Hearing this opera again had the effect of finding a disintegrating, powdery rose pressed in the pages of a book you haven’t opened in decades. You can’t remember who gave you the flower or why it was significant enough to save, but you feel a twinge of regret that something that once meant something to you no longer does.

Metropolitan Opera House November 124th, 2018 matinee
LES PÊCHEURS DE PERLES Georges Bizet Léila...................Pretty Yende Nadir...................Javier Camarena Zurga...................Alexander Birch Elliott Nourabad................Nicolas Testé
Conductor...............Emmanuel Villaume

~ Oberon

November 23, 2018
Seven Gates of Jerusalem

Above: the sheep market at the Herod Gate, Jerusalem, c. 1900

~ Author: Oberon

Among the many documentaries I watched during those long, humid afternoons of the summer of 2018 was one about the ancient city of Jerusalem. Watching it, and learning about the legendary seven gates of the city, put me in mind of Krzystof Penderecki’s seventh symphony, which is almost always referred to as SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM. This oratorio-like work premiered in 1997 at the State Hall in Jerusalem in a performance conducted by Loren Maazel.

In 1998, having lived in New York City for less than four months, I decided to attend a performance of the Penderecki work; I was mainly attracted by the listing of Christine Goerke and Florence Quivar among the vocal soloists. At this point in time, I had probably attended fewer than two-dozen performances of symphonic music in my opera-specific lifetime, and with few exceptions those were programs featuring vocal works. I don’t think I’d ever heard a note of Penderecki’s music prior to this concert:

This was actually the US premiere of SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM, and I was completely bowled over by it. From my opera diary:

“This exciting piece was brilliantly played by the Philharmonic, joined by the excellent Philadelphia Singers, some of whom were positioned in the boxes along the sides of the hall. Masur crafted the massive forces – including a large percussion section – into a cohesive and powerful whole. The work is short (one hour) and cries out for expansion [which the program note indicated might be forthcoming].

Stretches of lyricism, including a gorgeous horn solo, alternated with pageant-like passages; the orchestration dazzles, with a solo bass trumpet positioned in the auditorium. Striking rhythmic patterns abound, and the chorus has much to do – from near-whispers to full-cry.

Of the soloists, Christine Goerke dominated, with her glowingly strong middle register and wildfire forays to the top. Florance Quivar was her usual magnificent self, making me wish she’d had even more to sing. Tenor Jon Villars displayed both power and tonal appeal. Wendy Nielsen and William Stone had briefer parts, but were nonetheless impressive. In a spoken role, Boris Carmeli made a chilling dramatic effect.

The total impact of the work was splendid; and was greeted by an enthusiastic standing ovation. When Penderecki joined the players onstage, the applause re-doubled.”

Above: Krzystof Penderecki

Flashing forward twenty years, I watched a terrific DVD of the symphony – watched it once, and then immediately straight thru again. Although I rarely buy CDs any more, I did purchase a recording of this work in an excellent performance conducted by Kazimierz Kord and featuring the distinctive voice of contralto Jadwiga Rappé.

The importance of Boris Carmeli’s contribution to this work can’t be over-emphasized: the basso’s speaking voice is eerie and quite unique. Mr. Carmeli passed away in 2009. Of Italian heritage but born in Poland, he took part in almost every listed production of the SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM up until his death. In both the CD and DVD recordings mentioned above, he makes an incredible, unforgettable impression.

Above: Pope John Paul II greets Boris Carmeli and Krzystof Penderecki

Among the countless inventive, evocative sounds one hears in the course of SEVEN GATES OF JERUSALEM is that of the tubaphone. This tuned percussion instrument can be made of metal or plastic pipes (Penderecki calls for plastic) which are cut to various lengths, each producing a different tone. In the DVD I watched, this instrument is set upright, with the player hammering on the ends of the pipes with a mallet to get the desired effect. It is used extensively in the ‘scherzo‘ of SEVEN GATES, Lauda, Jerusalem, Dominum.

Now my great hope is that I might have an opportunity to experience this thrilling work in a live performance once again, in my lifetime.

~ Oberon

November 22, 2018
Emmanuelle Haïm @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: Emmanuelle Haïm

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday November 21st, 2018 – Music of Handel and Rameau was on this evening’s bill as Baroque specialist Emmanuelle Haïm made her New York Philharmonic debut. Neither composer’s name is really associated with the orchestra (MESSIAH of course being the exception), but their music was most welcome tonight, following in the wake of a pair of less-than-enjoyable ‘contemporary’ works we’d just recently heard at Carnegie Hall.

From first note to last, the music offered this evening – and the Philharmonic’s playing of it – seemed truly fresh and vital. And Ms. Haïm is so engaging to watch: her deep affection for the music is evident at every turn, and her conducting has an embracing style which drew superb playing from the orchestra. On Thanksgiving eve, we wondered how big of a crowd might turn out, but the house was substantially full. It was the most attentive audience of the classical music season to date – always a good sign.

It was fun to enter the auditorium this evening and see two harpsichords parked on the Geffen Hall stage, one for Ms. Haïm, the other for Paolo Bordignon. Handel’s Concerto Grosso, Op. 6, No. 1, calls for a relatively small ensemble of musicians, with Sheryl Staples as concertmaster.

From her first downbeat, Ms. Haïm’s conducting had a choreographic feeling. Swaying with the music, her gestures resonated like balletic port de bras. One could imagine her, gorgeously gowned and bejeweled, leading the dancing at Versailles in another lifetime. What a marvelous presence!

In the Concerto Grosso, violinists Sheryl Staples and Qian Qian Li along with cellist Carter Brey, form a musical sub-set, playing trio motifs with elegance and verve. The Allegro movements sparkled, the Adagio soothed and charmed, the exhilarating finale was full of life.

Two of Handel’s Water Music suites were performed. In the first, No. 3 in G-minor, the tall and slender Sébastien Marq (above) brought his polished recorder tone and technique to the mix. Switching from alto to soprano after the suite’s first movement, Mssr. Marq piped away to captivating effect. Oboes, bassoon, bass, and theorbo add textures that constantly lure the ear, and a violin solo in the Minuet was graciously played by Ms. Staples. The familiar tunes of the final Gigues made for a happy ending.

Philharmonic horn players Richard Deane and Allen Spanjer joined the ensemble for the Water Music Suite #1 in F-major; they were seated on the highest riser alongside oboist Sherry Sylar, a second young oboist I didn’t recognize, and bassoonist Kim Laskowski. These five artists made musical magic as the suite sailed forward.

Ms. Sylar’s plangent playing of a solo in the Adagio was pure beauty, and the two hornsmen reveled in the harmonized coloratura passages of the second Allegro. The woodwind trio blended lovingly in the Andante, and then the noble horns graced the Minuet. In the Air, our string trio from the Concerto Grosso emerged again, to lovely effect, as the horns sustained long notes in support. Horn calls open the Minuet, and then the suite dances on with a Bourrée-Hornpipe-Bourrée combination: swift and light to start, with a woodwind trio intervention, and then a fast finale that tripped the light fantastic.

Applause filled the hall; Ms. Haïm came out for a bow, but made a bee-line for the upper riser, where she drew the horn players from their chairs, then had Ms. Sylar take a solo bow (to warm shouts of ‘brava!‘), and then had the mystery oboist and Ms. Laskowski rise. What a fine gesture!

Selections from Rameau’s opera Dardanus, arranged as a suite by Ms. Haïm, made a splendid effect as the program’s second half. The opera, a classic five-act Tragédie en musique which premiered in 1739, follows Dardanus – the son of Zeus and Electra – in his feud with King Teucer. Their eventual pact of peace is reached as Dardanus marries Teucer’s daughter Iphise, who he’d met through the intervention of the sorcerer Isménor.

If the plot sounds unlikely, the score is enchanting. An enlarged ensemble tonight brought abounding grace and drama to music which covers an extraordinary range of rhythms and textures. Among the many sonic treats are the sound of a repeatedly dropped chain in the “Entry of the Warriors“, a delicate blend of flutes and triangle in the Air, and the suggestive shaking of the tambourine.

Ms. Haïm’s Philharmonic debut was a sure success; she passed among the musicians, greeting them individually as the applause rolled on. I hope she will come back to the Philharmonic in the future, bringing more Baroque gems with her. And what might she do with Gluck, Mozart, or Berlioz?

~ Oberon

November 21, 2018