Category: Opera

  • Big Basso Note

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    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.

  • Big Basso Note

    Hqdefault

    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.

  • Bronfman’s Bartok @ The NY Philharmonic

    Bronfman

    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.

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    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

  • Bronfman’s Bartok @ The NY Philharmonic

    Bronfman

    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.

    94-ef6ab60c90ba3fb6a7911b7999dd5f4e

    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

  • Jerome Hines

    Jerome hines as wotan

    Above: Jerome Hines as Wotan in DIE WALKURE at Bayreuth.

    Jerome Hines, the tall American basso, holds the record for the longest career of a principal artist at The Metropolitan Opera: between 1946 and 1987, Hines sang 875 performances with the Company in New York City and on tour. I saw him for the first time in 1963 as Mephistopheles in FAUST, one of eight performances I saw at The Old Met before it was demolished.

    In the ensuing seasons, I saw Hines as Alvise in GIOCONDA and Colline in BOHEME, as well as in a concert performance of scenes from BORIS GODUNOV at Carnegie Hall. The basso’s career took him to La Scala, the Bolshoi, Buenos Aires, and to the festivals at Glyndebourne, Edinburgh, and Bayreuth.

    At the Bayreuth Festival, Jerome Hines appeared as Gurnemanz, King Marke, and as Wotan, from which role the following excerpt is drawn:

    Jerome Hines – WALKURE finale – Kempe cond – Bayreuth 1960

    Jerome Hines passed away in 2003, having sung in public for the last time two years earlier as the Grand Inquisitor in concert at Boston.

  • Evelyn Mandac

    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

  • Nicholas di Virgilio: Two Fausts

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    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.

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    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

  • Browning Mummery

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    Tenor Browning Mummery was born at Melbourne in 1888. He worked as a mechanic while taking singing lessons, and eventually made his debut with a traveling Italian opera company as Faust. He went to study at London, and appeared there first with the British National Opera Company. From 1925-1928, Mummery sang at Covent Garden, where he had a particular success as the Italian Singer in ROSENKAVALIER.

    Dame Nellie Melba invited the tenor to sing with her during her 1924 tour of Australia, and she selected him to sing the role of Rodolfo in BOHEME at Covent Garden opposite her Mimi in 1926.

    Mummery appeared in London in operetta and musical comedy, and he sang in Promenade concerts. In 1928 he toured Australia again, with the Melba-Williamson Company. He toured the USA from 1929-1931, and sang on NBC Radio in New York City. In 1933, Mummery appeared the musical film Evensong with Evelyn Laye. Thereafter, he returned to Australia, where he continued to sing in opera and concert. Later he became a vocal pedagogue in Melbourne, and then in Canberra, where he died in 1974 at the age of 85.

    Throughout his career, Mummery sang lyric-tenor roles in MADAME BUTTERFLY, MAGIC FLUTE, BOHEME, TOSCA, and as David in DIE MEISTERSINGER; he worked with such great conductors as Sir John Barbirolli, Sir Malcom Sargent, and Sir Thomas Beecham.

    Browning Mummery – TOSCA aria

  • Carol Neblett Has Passed Away

    Snapshot

    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.

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    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.

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    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. 

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    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.

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    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.

  • Kitty Carlisle

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    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.

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    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. 

    CarlisleFledermaus

    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