Category: Opera

Big Basso Note

Above: basso Roberto Silva as Don Giovanni

Lots of opera lovers are familiar with recordings of the 1951 Mexico City AIDA because it includes an interpolated high E-flat from Maria Callas at the conclusion of the Triumphal Scene. Despite middling sound-quality, there’s actually quite a lot to sustain interest in the performance as a whole – not least the voice-risking, full-throttle Amneris of Oralia Dominguez. Dominguez was only 26 at the time, and singing her first Amneris; she spends the voice so recklessly, including some cavernous chest-tones, that it’s a wonder she was able to ever sing anything again. But in fact she had a career that lasted into the 1970s, and is best-remembered as Erda in the Karajan RING Cycle recording.

There’s another impressive voice to be heard in this Mexico City performance: basso Roberto Silva, who sings Ramfis. Silva sustains a powerful note in the phrase “Per tua man diventi ai nemici terror, folgore…morte!” during the Temple Scene. Silva holds his own against the Radames of Mario del Monaco.

Mario del Monaco & Roberto Silva – Temple Scene ~ AIDA – Mexico City 1951

I went in search of information about Señor Silva, though I could not find much in the way of biographical detail. He sang in LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR, RIGOLETTO and PURITANI with Callas during her Mexico City seasons, and there is a listing of him as Geronte in MANON LESCAUT (also at the Palacio de Bellas Artes, in 1951) opposite Clara Petrella. It seems he also had a career as a film actor.

The only other souvenir I could find of Roberto Silva is this rendering of Colline’s “Coat Aria” from BOHEME. It’s quite nice, actually.

December 28, 2017
Bronfman’s Bartok @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday December 27th, 2017 – My friend Dmitry and I are fans of Yefim Bronfman, so this evening’s concert by The New York Philharmonic was a perfect classical-music finale for the year 2017.

The evening opened with the overture to Smetana’s opera THE BARTERED BRIDE. I first heard this overture played live when James Levine chose it to open the Metropolitan Opera’s 100th anniversary gala in 1983. The gala (in two parts – matinee and evening) was telecast worldwide, but I was fortunate to have been in the House for the afternoon program. Let’s just say, they don’t make opera galas like that any more.

It was great fun to hear the jolly, rambunctious Smetana overture again tonight under Bramwell Tovey’s baton; the Maestro set an exhilarating, ultra-fast pace for this music, and the Philharmonic artists took up his challenge: they played brilliantly and seemed truly to be having fun into the bargain. The music passes thru many modulations along the way, and solo moments sparkle forth – notably from Sherry Sylar’s oboe – as we are danced along in a lively manner. Really, an ideal concert-opener.

Mr. Bronfman then appeared for the Bartok 2nd piano concerto. Following an ascending flourish from the Steinway, the first movement commences with rather wild brass fanfares. The piano sounds restless, set against winds; the turbulence builds only to subside, and Mr. Brofman’s playing turns subtle. Following another brass and piano build-up, there’s a full stop. Thereafter the music seems more melodious, though droll and ironic. The brass get quite noisy before the pianist silences them with a cadenza that flows up and down the keyboard. After a passage for flutes and piano, the soloist plays a double rising motif.

Pensive strings introduce the the Adagio which develops into a marvelous duet for piano and timpani. Here Mr. Bronfman and timpanist Marcus Rhoten created an incredible atmosphere: moody and a bit ominous. Suddenly things perk up without warning and we are in a scherzo-like realm with an agitato feeling and with the pianist finding unusual delicacies. Mr. Bronfman then commences a remarkable pianissimo trill that goes on and on over misterioso strings.

For the concerto’s finale, Bartók gets almost jazzy – in a slightly darkish way – and we hear from the trumpets; a feeling of a kind of war dance evolves. Another piano/percussion duet crops up – this time it’s Steinway vs bass drum – before the music turns unexpectedly dreamy. But the dream is short-lived as the trumpets re-awaken and the concerto ends brightly. Mr. Bronfman was well in his element throughout, his playing agile and multi-hued, with fine dynamic contrasts. The orchestra did their soloist proud.

By way of perfect contrast to his grand-scale playing of the Bartók, Mr. Bronfman chose for an encore Chopin’s Étude in E Major, Op.10, No.3. The opening melody of this work, thought to have been Chopin’s favorite among the études, was later the source of a vocal song arranged by the soprano Félia Litvinne and recorded famously by Litvinne’s pupil, the tragic Germaine Lubin. This evening, Mr. Bronfman’s poetic rendering of the full étude cast a thoughtful spell over the hall. This magical experience, like so many others in recent years, was sadly spoilt in its most poignant passage by the ringing of a cellphone. Yet Mr. Bronfman continued, unperturbed, and left me a beautiful memory to cherish.

Above: Bramwell Tovey

Following the interval, an exciting performance of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exposition (in the Ravel orchestration) again found the orchestra on peak form. Opening with a brass chorale Promenade, which recurs with variations during the first seven movements, the suite conjures up visions of the works of Viktor Hartmann. Upon Hartmann’s death in 1874 at the young age of 39, an exhibition of his work was mounted at St. Petersburg. Mussorgsky visited the exhibit and was inspired by what he saw to write a set of miniatures for piano. In 1922, Maurice Ravel orchestrated the pieces.

A huge orchestra is in play, including five percussionists, two harps, and celesta. The ponderous Gnome, the child-like and playful Tuileries, the plodding Ox-Cart, the mini-scherzo of the Ballet of Unhatched Chicks, the bustling Marketplace at Limoges, the Roman Catacombs (deep brass), and the fanciful Hut of Baba-Yaga are all evoked in coloristic settings which the Philharmonic players delivered with evident affection.

The movement which most impressed me was Il Vecchio Castello (The Old Castle) in which flutes, oboe, and bassoon were joined by the mellow, distinctive voice of the alto saxophone. This music was so evocative that I got lost in it.

The suite ends on a grand note with The Great Gate of Kiev. Sumptuously played, it brought a year full of music to an imperial finish.

~ Oberon

December 28, 2017
Bronfman’s Bartok @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Yefim Bronfman

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday December 27th, 2017 – My friend Dmitry and I are fans of Yefim Bronfman, so this evening’s concert by The New York Philharmonic was a perfect classical-music finale for the year 2017.

The evening opened with the overture to Smetana’s opera THE BARTERED BRIDE. I first heard this overture played live when James Levine chose it to open the Metropolitan Opera’s 100th anniversary gala in 1983. The gala (in two parts – matinee and evening) was telecast worldwide, but I was fortunate to have been in the House for the afternoon program. Let’s just say, they don’t make opera galas like that any more.

It was great fun to hear the jolly, rambunctious Smetana overture again tonight under Bramwell Tovey’s baton; the Maestro set an exhilarating, ultra-fast pace for this music, and the Philharmonic artists took up his challenge: they played brilliantly and seemed truly to be having fun into the bargain. The music passes thru many modulations along the way, and solo moments sparkle forth – notably from Sherry Sylar’s oboe – as we are danced along in a lively manner. Really, an ideal concert-opener.

Mr. Bronfman then appeared for the Bartok 2nd piano concerto. Following an ascending flourish from the Steinway, the first movement commences with rather wild brass fanfares. The piano sounds restless, set against winds; the turbulence builds only to subside, and Mr. Brofman’s playing turns subtle. Following another brass and piano build-up, there’s a full stop. Thereafter the music seems more melodious, though droll and ironic. The brass get quite noisy before the pianist silences them with a cadenza that flows up and down the keyboard. After a passage for flutes and piano, the soloist plays a double rising motif.

Pensive strings introduce the the Adagio which develops into a marvelous duet for piano and timpani. Here Mr. Bronfman and timpanist Marcus Rhoten created an incredible atmosphere: moody and a bit ominous. Suddenly things perk up without warning and we are in a scherzo-like realm with an agitato feeling and with the pianist finding unusual delicacies. Mr. Bronfman then commences a remarkable pianissimo trill that goes on and on over misterioso strings.

For the concerto’s finale, Bartók gets almost jazzy – in a slightly darkish way – and we hear from the trumpets; a feeling of a kind of war dance evolves. Another piano/percussion duet crops up – this time it’s Steinway vs bass drum – before the music turns unexpectedly dreamy. But the dream is short-lived as the trumpets re-awaken and the concerto ends brightly. Mr. Bronfman was well in his element throughout, his playing agile and multi-hued, with fine dynamic contrasts. The orchestra did their soloist proud.

By way of perfect contrast to his grand-scale playing of the Bartók, Mr. Bronfman chose for an encore Chopin’s Étude in E Major, Op.10, No.3. The opening melody of this work, thought to have been Chopin’s favorite among the études, was later the source of a vocal song arranged by the soprano Félia Litvinne and recorded famously by Litvinne’s pupil, the tragic Germaine Lubin. This evening, Mr. Bronfman’s poetic rendering of the full étude cast a thoughtful spell over the hall. This magical experience, like so many others in recent years, was sadly spoilt in its most poignant passage by the ringing of a cellphone. Yet Mr. Bronfman continued, unperturbed, and left me a beautiful memory to cherish.

Above: Bramwell Tovey

Following the interval, an exciting performance of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exposition (in the Ravel orchestration) again found the orchestra on peak form. Opening with a brass chorale Promenade, which recurs with variations during the first seven movements, the suite conjures up visions of the works of Viktor Hartmann. Upon Hartmann’s death in 1874 at the young age of 39, an exhibition of his work was mounted at St. Petersburg. Mussorgsky visited the exhibit and was inspired by what he saw to write a set of miniatures for piano. In 1922, Maurice Ravel orchestrated the pieces.

A huge orchestra is in play, including five percussionists, two harps, and celesta. The ponderous Gnome, the child-like and playful Tuileries, the plodding Ox-Cart, the mini-scherzo of the Ballet of Unhatched Chicks, the bustling Marketplace at Limoges, the Roman Catacombs (deep brass), and the fanciful Hut of Baba-Yaga are all evoked in coloristic settings which the Philharmonic players delivered with evident affection.

The movement which most impressed me was Il Vecchio Castello (The Old Castle) in which flutes, oboe, and bassoon were joined by the mellow, distinctive voice of the alto saxophone. This music was so evocative that I got lost in it.

The suite ends on a grand note with The Great Gate of Kiev. Sumptuously played, it brought a year full of music to an imperial finish.

~ Oberon

December 27, 2017
Evelyn Mandac

Evelyn Mandac (above), a soprano from The Philippines, sang several performances as Lauretta in Gianni Schicchi plus a single Gretel at The Met in 1976.

She appeared with San Francisco Opera as Susanna in Le nozze di Figaro, Despina in Cosi fan Tutte (with Frederica von Stade and Evelyn Lear), and as Ines in L’Africaine (with Shirley Verrett and Plácido Domingo). The Meyerbeer is preserved on the Gala label.

Ms. Mandac sang in the American premieres of works by Henze, Berio, and Pasatieri, and she made a commercial recording of Orff’s Carmina Burana with The Boston Symphony, conducted by Seiji Ozawa.

Evelyn Mandac – O mio babbino caro – GIANNI SCHICCHI – Met 1976

December 22, 2017
Nicholas di Virgilio: Two Fausts

American tenor Nicholas di Virgilio (above) was a stalwart of the New York City Opera during the Company’s heady time in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Having moved from City Center to the New York State Theatre, and bolstered by the ‘overnight success’ of Beverly Sills, New York City Opera became a true mecca for opera-lovers, providing serious competition for The Met next-door with a company of wonderful singing-actors and a more adventurous repertoire. I heard literally hundreds of really memorable performances there.

In addition to his busy operatic career, Mr. di Virgilio was well-known as a concert artist. In 1963, he participated in a performance of Benjamin Britten’s WAR REQUIEM with the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood which has been preserved on DVD; Erich Leinsdorf conducts, and Phyllis Curtin and Tom Krause are the other vocal soloists.

Mr. di Virgilio is the tenor soloist in Leonard Bernstein’s 1964 recording of the Beethoven 9th, and the tenor also sang Mozart’s D-minor REQUIEM at a memorial service for President John F Kennedy in January of 1964, under Leinsdorf’s baton; the performance was televised. Composer Dominic Argento dedicated his Six Elizabethan Songs to Nicholas di Virgilio.

In 1970, at New York City Opera, I chanced to hear Nicholas di Virgilio sing Faust in both the Gounod and Boito settings of the story of an aging philosopher who sells his soul to the devil. I was particularly amazed by his taking the high-C in “Salute demeure” in a lovely piano.

Nicholas di Virgilio – FAUST aria – NYCO 3

Nicholas di Virgilio – Da campi dai prati – MEFISTOFELE – NYCO 1970

~ Oberon

December 20, 2017
Carol Neblett Has Passed Away

One afternoon, while I was working at Tower Records, the phone in the opera room rang. I hated taking phone calls, but it was part of the job. “Is this the opera department?” a woman’s voice asked; I answered in the affirmative. “Are you an opera-lover?” Oh boy, another whack job. “Yes,” I said impatiently. “You might remember me…my name is Carol Neblett.” Relief, and excitement: “Yes, Miss Neblett…I was at your City Opera debut and I remember it like it was yesterday.” “Oh, how sweet of you to say that…!”

It’s true, too. Her NYCO debut – which was in fact her operatic debut – as Musetta in LA BOHEME in 1969 was simply electrifying. Not only was she a knock-out gorgeous woman with a figure to die for and a mane of rich blonde hair, but the voice was staggeringly large, luminous, and sensuous, with vibrant and blooming top notes. As Musetta, she received three ovations in the course of ten minutes: one after the Waltz, the second after the big ensemble that follows, and the third – so massive I thought the roof might cave in – when she took a solo bow before the curtain.

I took this photo of Carol Neblett at a Promenade event at New York City Opera where she sang “Depuis le jour” from LOUISE.

Carol went on to sing numerous performances with New York City Opera, and I well remember her in the dual roles of Margherita/Helen of Troy in the sensational Tito Capobiano production of Boito’s MEFISTOFELE, opposite Norman Treigle’s riveting portrayal of the devil. The ovations at that production’s premiere were epic, and it put the opera back on the map, with NYCO getting a lot of mileage out of it in the ensuing years.

Above: Carol Neblett in a 1970 photo by Bill Hendrickson

In 1973, Ms. Neblett was a glamourous Ariadne – both vocally and physically – in NYCO’s 1973 production of ARIADNE AUF NAXOS; this production, sung in English/German and brilliantly performed down to the tiniest roles, made ARIADNE my favorite opera…which it remains to this day. Carol’s Yaroslavna (PRINCE IGOR) and Donna Elvira (DON GIOVANNI) at NYCO were both very finely sung and acted.

Carol Neblett – Mi tradi ~ DON GIOVANNI – NYCO 1972

Ms. Neblett made her Met debut in 1979 in Jean-Piere Ponnelle’s much-maligned production of DER FLIEGENDE HOLLANDER. She gave 85 performances with the Company, at Lincoln Center and on tour. I saw her as a very exciting Tosca at a matinee in 1981, opposite Jose Carreras and Sherrill Milnes. She looked striking and sang generously as Amelia in BALLO IN MASCHERA opposite Carlo Bergonzi in 1983. I also saw her on The Met stage as Alice Ford in FALSTAFF and in a tour performance as Donna Elvira in Boston in 1981.

Meanwhile, in other parts of the forest, the soprano took on such roles as Turandot, Minnie of the Golden West, Aida, and Norma. Her singing became erratic over time, and she later admitted to alcohol addiction, from which she made a recovery. But her voice remained large and impressive through thick and thin:

Carol Neblett – Es gibt ein Reich ~ ARIADNE AUF NAXOS – from radio concert

Carol Neblett – In Questa Reggia ~ TURANDOT – Pittsburgh 1978

Carol had her fun-loving side, too…here she is on the Johnny Carson Show. The voice is prodigious.

My final encounter with Carol Neblett in performance came unexpectedly: one morning in October 1992, I was leafing thru the Sunday edition of the Hartford Courant and noticed, purely by chance, that Carol was scheduled to sing a recital at Hartt College that afternoon. On a beautiful Autumn day, I walked for over half-an-hour to the hall, having no idea what to expect.

Carol appeared onstage, looked older of course, but still mighty attractive. After some Baroque songs, she sang a really beautiful Brahms set, then the Song to the Moon from RUSALKA, and three gorgeously-done Strauss songs. After the intermission, she sang some very lovely Debussy songs, and then gave a powerhouse performance of Chimène’s magnificent aria “Pleurez, pleurez mes yeux” from Massenet’s LE CID. The printed program concluded with some Spanish songs which suited her well. She sang two encores: the “Vissi d’arte” from TOSCA and “If I Loved You“.

I can’t remember now why I didn’t go to say hello to her after the recital, and I really regret that I didn’t. Over the ensuing years, memories of her cropped up quite often – especially of the glorious Musetta-debut. And then, that day at Tower, the phone rang.

November 25, 2017
Kitty Carlisle

When I was a kid, everybody knew who Kitty Carlisle was: a panelist on the popular TV game show To Tell The Truth. But I had no idea she was also a singer. Born in New Orleans in 1910, she had studied voice there and subsequently appeared in musicals – and even as Carmen (in Salt Lake City). She made several musically-oriented films, including the Marx Brothers’ A NIGHT AT THE OPERA.

In the summer of 1966, my parents took me for our annual summer vacation to Saratoga where Eugene Ormandy was conducting a concert performance of FLEDERMAUS with the Philadelphia Orchestra. The main attraction for me was the presence of Hilde Gueden, Roberta Peters, and Barry Morell in the cast. Kitty’s being cast as Prince Orlofsky seemed like a gimmick to me, but she actually sang very well.

Above: as Prince Orlofsky, in a Louis Melançon/Met Opera portrait

Later that same year, Kitty Carlisle made her Met debut as Orlofsky. I sent her a congratulatory letter and received the card at the top of this article in return. She sang the role fifteen times with The Met, at Lincoln Center, on tour, and in the Parks Series. In 1980 she appeared in the role for the final time for Beverly Sills’ farewell gala at the New York State Theater.

Kitty dated George Gershwin and married Moss Hart. She served for twenty years on the New York State Council on the Arts, and was seen often among audiences at Lincoln Center events. I saw her once, walking alone across The Met lobby: she must have been 80 or so, but her erect posture, jet black hair, and elegant outfit gave her a timeless air. Kitty Carlisle passed away in 2007.

And yes, she really could sing:

Kitty Carlisle – Vilja ~ THE MERRY WIDOW

November 24, 2017
Huang|Noseda|New York Philharmonic

Above: The New York Philharmonic’s concertmaster Frank Huang

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday November 22nd, 2017 – The announcement of the death of the great Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky coloured my entire day. It came, by unhappy coincidence, on the anniversary of the assassination of John F Kennedy which took place in 1963: the most disturbing world-event of my youth. That brutal murder – and its aftermath – I still remember so clearly.

This evening, I went as planned to The New York Philharmonic‘s program of Russian and French works. Though I was in the mood for darker, more soul-reaching music, the program – magnificently played – did lift my spirits, if only temporarily.

As far as I know, Mr. Hvorostovsky appeared with The New York Philharmonic for only one program: in 1998, he sang Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder with the orchestra. I was there, and was swept away by the peerless beauty of his voice and by his deeply poetic interpretation. How I wished he could have been with us again tonight. But the program did commence with music from Hvorostovsky’s homeland: a suite from Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s opera The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh. It ended up being my best-loved work of the evening and it was brilliantly delivered by the Philharmonic players, under Gianandrea Noseda’s baton.

Hearing music from The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh brought back memories of a day in 1983 when I stepped off a bus in Boston on a Sunday afternoon and began walking towards the opera house where the Rimsky-Korsakov opera was being performed at a matinee. Suddenly the sky opened up; no store that was open sold umbrellas. I made a run for it, but was literally drenched from head to toe by the time I got to the theatre. Needless to say, I did not enjoy the performance at all, and left at intermission…still soaking wet.

The suite from The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh is in four movements, depicting episodes from the opera: a Hymn to Nature, Fevronia’s wedding procession, the invasion of the Tatars and the subsequent battle, and Fevronia’s Ascension to the Invisible. It begins on a sombre note, with harps adding a touch of magic. Throughout the suite, solo wind passages abound; Maestro Noseda brought out these colouristic facets, and the Philharmonic artists played them delightfully.

A broad viola theme stands out, and the percussionists are kept on their toes with bells, chimes,and glockenspiel in addition to the timpani, bass, and snare drums that come to attention for the battle scenes. The suite was an excellent program-opener.

It’s always a great pleasure when principals from the Philharmonic step into the concerto spotlight. Tonight, concertmaster Frank Huang performed Camille Saint-Saëns’ Violin Concerto No. 3 – my first time hearing it live. The concerto begins without an orchestral introduction; instead, only quiet, darkish chords provide a background for the rather harsh opening phrases of the violin. Mr. Huang’s playing here seemed a little unsettled, with traces of sharpness of pitch. But within seconds, the violinist had settled into the music and gave a really impressive, technically assured performance.

As the concerto’s first movement develops, there are dramatic contrasts between full-bodied, passionate themes and more sedate passages. There is a sense of yearning in the music which Mr. Huang conveyed to perfection. In the Andantino which follows, the composer meshes the solo violin with winds in music with an elegant air.

The concluding movement begins with a slow introduction and some almost jagged interjections from the violin. The Allegro non troppo itself is launched with an up-sweeping motif for the solo violin. Passages of coloratura for the soloist alternate with more lyrical elements; then commences a surprising cantabile, where Mr. Huang’s beauty of tone was ravishingly engaging. Pages of virtuosic writing show off the soloist’s fluent technique, and hints of gypsy passion are thrown in. The leaping violin theme returns and is most welcome. An orchestral chorale is an innovative detour before the concerto sails on to a bravura finish. Mr. Huang was rightly accorded a prolonged ovation from the audience whilst his onstage colleagues tapped their bows and stamped their feet in acclaim.

Above: Gianandrea Noseda

Rachmaninoff’s Symphony No. 3, under Maestro Noseda’s baton, followed the interval. Like so many symphonic works, its a piece I’m not really familiar with, and I must say, I felt slightly disappointed with it musically. It’s all terribly impressive and enjoyable to hear, but the emotions are rarely engaged. Perhaps it was just my mood, but I kept longing for a deeper experience.

That said, the artists of the Philharmonic played it most impressively. And it is to them that I owe thanks for moving or thrilling me on this evening: to Mr. Huang of course, but also to other players who had prominent passages tonight: Sheryl Staples (violin), Yoobin Son and Mindy Kaufman (flute/piccolo), Sherry Sylar (oboe), Pascual Martinez Forteza (clarinet), Kim Laskowski (bassoon), and Amy Zaloto (bass clarinet).

Encouraged by the great success of his Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini (1934), Rachmaninoff started work on his third symphony in the summer of 1935. Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra gave the premiere on November 6, 1936. It was not well-received by the audience, nor by the press. Perhaps, as with those early auditors, I need to hear it a few more times to cultivate a more positive reaction.

There are countless appealing passages – a cello tutti was especially beautiful – and the final movement’s journey from optimism thru a vale of doubt and the onward via a meditative passage to a ringing conclusion evoked a big response from the Geffen Hall audience.

~ Oberon

November 23, 2017
Dmitri Hvorostovsky Has Passed Away

One of the era’s few true titans of the opera world, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, has passed away at the age of 55.

It’s possible I was the first person in the Americas to hear the voice of Dmitri Hvorostovsky. Within a week of his historic Cardiff Singer of the World win in 1989, my dear friend Mollie sent me tapes of the competition – which had produced the famous ‘Battle of the Baritones’ as Dima and Bryn Terfel vied for the top prize. They both won: Hvorostovsky the main title and Bryn took the Lieder Prize; they both went on to spectacular careers.

His Cardiff win sent the charismatic Russian singer on a career trajectory that took him to the great opera houses and concert stages of the world. He was beloved by audiences everywhere.

At The Met, Hvorostovsky made his debut in 1995 as Prince Yeletsky in PIQUE-DAME. He went on to sing nearly 200 performances with the Company. I had the good fortune of seeing him often in such roles as Belcore in ELISIR, Germont, Posa, Andrei in WAR & PEACE, Onegin, Renato in BALLO IN MASCHERA, Count di Luna, Simon Boccanegra, Carlo in ERNANI, and Rigoletto.

In 2015, already in treatment for a brain tumor, Hvorostovsky made a heroic effort to come to New York City to sing three performances as Count di Luna in TROVATORE; the audience greeted him with fervent affection, and he sang beautifully.

Above: fantastic moment as Dima greets fans after his 2015 Count di Luna at The Met.

In February 2016, I saw Hvorostovsky for what was to be the final time: in recital at Carnegie Hall. On May 7th, 2017, he appeared on The Met stage for the last time: at a gala marking The Met’s 50th season at Lincoln Center, Dima made an unannounced appearance, singing the “Cortigiani!” from RIGOLETTO.

Three times prior to that last Carnegie recital, I heard Hvorostovsky in concert settings. The first was at Symphony Hall in Boston where, in 1995, he gave an all-Russian program with chorus; as an encore, he sang “America the Beautiful” – gorgeously – and took a high A (or was it a B-flat?) at the climax that was simply thrilling. The entire afternoon was a feast of splendid singing.

In 1998, soon after I’d moved to New York City, Hvorostovsky sang Mahler’s Kindertotenlieder with the New York Philharmonic. The music suited him to perfection. And in April 2010, he joined soprano Sondra Radvanovsky in a program of arias and duets at Carnegie Hall: two of the truly distinctive artists of our time.

Looking back:

Dmitri Hvorostovsky – BALLO aria – Cardiff 1989

Dmitri Hvorostovsky – In The Stillness of the Silent Night~Rachmaninoff – Cardiff 1989

More of The Voice:

PECHEURS DES PERLES – duet – Paul Groves & Dmitri Hvorostovsky – Tucker Gala 1995

Hvorostovsky – TROVATORE aria – Tucker Gala 1995

Dmitri Hvorostovsky & Rene Pape – DON CARLO scene – Met 2006

Hvorostovsky – arias from PRINCE IGOR and ERNANI – BBC Proms 2006

As Eugene Onegin:

Dmitri Hvorostovsky – ONEGIN aria

Portrait of the artist as a young man:

I met Dmitri Hvorostovsky only once, very briefly. I was leaving work at Tower Records as he and his wife were coming in. I spontaneously held out my hand and he grasped it firmly and gave me a smile. Neither of us said a word.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky – Tchaikovsky ~ None But The Lonely Heart

November 21, 2017
TURANDOT @ The Met

Above: Hei-Kyung Hong as Liu in a Beatriz Schiller/Met Opera photo

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday November 16th, 2017 – I invited my friend Claudia Schreier to this evening’s performance of TURANDOT at The Met; I wanted her to experience one of last truly grand opera productions in the Met’s repertory. The presence in the cast of Hei-Kyung Hong as Liu was a major factor in choosing this particular evening.

As at every performance of TURANDOT I’ve attended in the past 30 years, the house was packed. And, as at every Hei-Kyung Hong performance I have attended at The Met, the soprano’s presence in the cast drew large numbers of Asian opera fans. It turned out to be – yet again – Ms. Hong’s night.

The evening got off to a sluggish start: Carlo Rizzi’s pacing of the Mandarin’s opening address was slower than the MTA and caused baritone Jeongcheol Cha to dig deep for sufficient breath to sustain the phrases of his proclamation. Later, Rizzi thoughtlessly allowed too much orchestral volume at times, undermining expressive opportunities for his singers.

The towering figure of Bulgarian basso Giorgi Kirof as Timur (above, taking a curtain call) came onto the scene; in his Met debut, Mr. Kirof’s looming stature gave Ms. Hong’s petite figure as Liu an almost childlike aspect. The basso – a stalwart of the Sofia National Opera – gave a vocally moving performance, reaching emotional heights in the heartbreak of “Liù…Liù…sorgi! È l’ora chiara d’ogni risveglio!” which literally choked me up.

Alexey Lavrov was a terrific Ping, with a big, warm sound; his “Ho una casa nell’Honan…” was superbly sung. As his sidekicks Pang and Pong, Tony Stevenson and Eduardo Valdes gave characterful singing. I actually love the scene of the three ministers, which Puccini orchestrated so precisely. As the Emperor Altoum, Ronald Naldi’s voice ‘spoke’ clearly – all the way from Amsterdam Avenue.

Aleksandrs Antonenko had a fine evening as Calaf. He measures out the voice thoughtfully in Act I, saving up for the arduous singing ahead. But his “Non piangere, Liu” was finely judged, revealing veins of beauty in his powerhouse voice. Throughout the Riddle Scene, the tenor scored with dramatically-lit singing, and joined Oksana Dyka’s Turandot on a firm and sustained high-C at the end of “In questa reggia“. Mr. Antonenko also took – and held – a strong high-C at “No, no, Principessa altera! ti voglio ardente d’amor!“

Mr. Antonenko’s “Nessun dorma” was persuasively sung, reveling in the music’s inherent lyricism; he pulled off the climactic phrase impressively and managed to both acknowledge and forestall a wave of ‘bravos!’ by holding up his hand, letting the opera flow forward. The tenor’s singing in the final duet was first-rate, with some lovely expressions of tenderness as Turandot succumbed to him.

Oksana Dyka’s voice is slender of tone yet strong of projection. The top range doesn’t blossom but the notes are there; it took a few phrases for the sound to shake loose. As she moved downstage in the course of “In questa reggia” the voice began to speak into the house with increasing effect. Her Riddle Scene was filled with characterful expression: fire and ice. Following her collapse and her desperate plea to her father, the scene turned dramatically absorbing.

Ms. Dyka, her hair down and nearly prone with despair, is literally overcome with wonderment when Calaf/Antonenko offers her a way out of the bargain. She simply stares at him, realizing that this is a different kind of man than she’s accustomed to dealing with. Then he gently helps her to her feet. The chemistry between the two singers here was genuine; I’ve never seen that moment done quite that way.

Ms. Dyka’s voice seemed freer in Act III, and she was sustaining the phrases more and reveling in the upper range notes, holding them to generate increased excitement. Her “Del primo pianto” was movingly sung, opening up her humanity which has been bound in ice for so long. In the final moments of the opera, the soprano’s “Padre augusto…Conosco il nome dello straniero! Il suo nome è…Amor!” had a silvery gleam and a prolonged top-B.

Hei-Kyung Hong’s Liu has captivated audiences time and again in her long Met career. As someone who has seen and heard so many splendid sopranos essay the role of Liu – people like Moffo, Freni and Caballe – I feel Hei-Kyung’s stands at the pinnacle both for her physical perfection and her deeply moving singing.

If her Wikipedia page is accurate, Hei-Kyung is now 58 years old. Her voice has retained its freshness thanks to her wisdom in choosing repertoire. Tonight both the beauty of her sound and the instinctive rightness of her phrasing gave the music a deeply feminine quality; she also has a feeling for the Italianate style that escapes many non-Italian-born singers. Both her arias were as finely sung as I’ve ever heard them, and her death scene was truly heart-rending. She received a vociferous ovation, very much deserved.

All evening, the Met Orchestra made marvelous music, with particular magic from the violin of concertmaster David Chan who made so many of his phrases shine. Likewise, the chorus were at their most fervent and full-voiced.

Above: Act I production photo by Marty Sohl/Met Opera

Some of the original staging has been altered and to me this weakens the overall effect of the opera. And the crowd scenes seem less crowded than in the past. The 45-minute intermission after the 35-minute first act would have been unbearable had I not had the one-and-only Claudia Schreier to keep me company.

Catch the curtain calls here, with the charming episode of the “missed bouquet”.

~ Oberon

November 16, 2017