Category: Opera

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
Lisette in London

Lisette Oropesa (above) made her debut at The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, on October 30th, 2017 in a controversial production of Donizetti’s LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR.

Directed by Katie Jenkins, the production was largely savaged by critics and operagoers alike when it premiered in 2016 (“…’too leaden even for the hecklers…” said The Telegraph). But Lisette and her fellow cast members seem to have rescued it in this revival, with the help of some judicious toning-down by the director.

The reviews are coming in, and they are raves. Here’s a sample:

“The cast is outstanding, especially the Lucia of Cuban-American soprano Lisette Oropesa. A consummate actor with a fresh, pearly sound and exquisite top notes, Oropesa creates a flesh-and-blood character out of Donizetti’s sketchy heroine. Her mad scene is beautifully judged, full of nuance and changes of pace – deeply disturbing rather than tragic – and her tender relationship with Alisa (superbly acted by Rachel Lloyd) is the most honest in this ghastly story.” ~ The Stage

October 30, 2017
Pianist George Li @ Weill Hall
Above: George Li

~ Author: Oberon

Friday October 27th, 2017 – I first heard the young Chinese-American pianist George Li when he appeared at the 2015 Young Concert Artists gala; read about his marvelous performance here. Tonight I was glad of an opportunity to hear Mr. Li again, in a solo recital at Weill Hall.

Small of stature, the 21-year-old pianist is a titan of talent. In a well-devised program this evening, he captivated his large and very attentive audience with playing on the grand scale: and while he is capable of massive volume and of veritable thunderbolts hurled from the keyboard’s lower octaves, Mr. Li also shows expert dynamic control in nuanced phrases and great sensitivity in passages of poetic expression.

Mr. Li’s choice of Haydn to open his program proved ideal. In the composer’s B-Minor Sonata (1776), the pianist was able, within moments, to display his broad dynamic range. The opening Allegro moderato alternated subtle turns of phrase with full-bodied, emphatic motifs. The sonata’s Minuet, a simple melody, turns somewhat grander in the trio section; Mr. Li delineated this shift to perfection. In the somewhat rambunctious final Presto, the pianist teased us with charming pauses between scales and trills, tossing off all the coloratura passagework in this unusual and inventive movement with complete clarity.

The centerpiece of Mr. Li’s program was his interpretation of Chopin’s second sonata, which is built around its famous third movement: the Marche funèbre.

From its turbulent opening, the opening Grave – Doppio movimento gave us a breathtaking display of the pianist’s gifts. The music is alternately seething and pensive, with a rising theme corresponding to a rise in the player’s passion. My notes on his playing were reduced to “Huge!”, “Thrilling!” and “Epic turmoil!” After a brief display of tenderness, the pianist became so searingly rhapsodic that I simply wrote “DAMN!”. In an electrifying moment, Mr. Li sustained the movement’s concluding chord and then suddenly pulled his hands off the keyboard to his chest. It was a gesture I’ll never forget.

Following an agitato start and some darkly wild passages, the second movement turns into a slow waltz. Mr. Li wandered beautifully thru this musical landscape, reveling in his dynamic control. After a return to speediness, the music ends on a fading note: more magic.

The doleful Marche funèbre was poignantly played; we felt the weight of the world upon us in Mr. Li’s deeply mournful phrases. Then a clear, sentimental melody rises from the bleakness. With heartfelt modulations and a caressive softness of touch, the pianist’s playing here was transportive. The march then returns, and gloom settles in once more.

With a scurrying feeling, the sonata’s concluding Presto seems almost like an afterthought in its brevity. After about a minute, Mr. Li’s nimble hands suddenly hesitate and the sonata ends with a briskly struck chord.

The Chopin elicited prolonged applause from the audience, and Mr. Li was called back for two bows; he acknowledged our enthusiasm with a lovely hand-over-heart gesture.

Following a longish interval during which the piano tuner seemed to be performing major surgery on the Steinway, Mr. Li returned with works by Rachmaninoff and Liszt.

I found Rachmaninoff’s Variations on a Theme of Corelli, written in 1931, to be the least interesting music on the program. The theme itself is nothing to write home about; then Rachmaninoff throws everything but the kitchen sink into the variations. Mr. Li brought all his prodigious gifts to this piece, from the simple setting forth of the theme thru the panoramic rhythms and harmonies of the endless variations. The audience were with him every step of the way, but – for all the delights of his playing – I found myself wishing he had programmed something else.

Such notions were swept away with Mr. Li’s choices of the concluding works for his recital: ideally contrasted, Franz Liszt’s meditative the Consolation in D-flat Major found its perfect counter-poise in the mad virtuosity of his Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.

In the Consolation, the pianist created a dreamlike atmosphere with his delicate, contemplative playing. Then there was a brief silence and Mr. Li launched the Hungarian Rhapsody with its vibrant gypsy themes. Sparkling virtuosity, and a sense of playfulness in his variances of speed and witty pauses, the pianist kept the audience enthralled. The sight of his fingers flying up and down the keyboard at super-speed with mind-boggling.

Engulfed in waves of heartfelt applause, Mr. Li offered two encores from the operatic repertoire, displaying both his sensitive and his uninhibited sides. In the gentle and simple clarity of the Blessed Spirit theme from Gluck’s ORFEO ED EURIDICE and then in the sexy brilliance of the Chanson bohème from Bizet’s CARMEN, Mr. Li summarized his dual nature: as a poet and a virtuoso.

The Program:
- HAYDN Piano Sonata in B Minor, Hob. XVI: 32
- CHOPIN Piano Sonata No. 2 in B-flat Minor, Op. 35
- RACHMANINOFF Variations on a Theme of Corelli
- LISZT Consolation No. 3 in D-flat Major
- LISZT Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in C-sharp Minor
~ Oberon
October 27, 2017
Destinations: A Dancer’s Journey

Above: Francesco Pireddu

In 2011, the Sardinian dancer Francesco Pireddu appeared with Roberto Villanueva’s BalaSole Dance Company here in New York City. Francesco’s solo, Silence, was a highlight of the show. A few weeks ago, I heard from Francesco; together we arranged for him to write an article for my blog. And here it is:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Destinations: A Dancer’s Journey ~ Guest Author: Francesco Pireddu

“Hi. My name is Francesco Pireddu. And, like each one of us, I have a story.

When I look at my childhood I see a small, very small village in the middle of the mountains, in the beautiful Italian island called Sardinia. My parents, myself, three brothers and one sister. A big Italian family surrounded by gorgeous nature, visited by particularly cold winters and delighted with bright and hot summers. There was not much to do, apart from going to school, doing the homework and help my mother out in the house. Discipline, simplicity and rigor were the key notes of my family’s life. I was profoundly drawn to everything that wasn’t there: dance, performance, self-expression in the deepest form. I needed to explore. And, as soon as I finished high school, I left.

> First destination: Rome. I was excited, determined and scared. Dance and acting: that’s all I wanted to do, and I ran to register at the most prestigious acting school. I was told that, first things first, there was a “three-monologues-audition” to prepare. Three monologues? Did I have to perform three monologues in front of a bunch of people? No, thanks. I was too shy. Very self-conscious. The day after, I registered at one of the most famous dance schools and I felt so much better. Ballet, modern and improvisation classes: I was in my element. The movement was a beautiful journey. My body language was exposed and explored.

> Second destination: Tuscany. Without a formal audition I was chosen to perform with Micha Van Hoecke, the renowned Belgian director. He was preparing RIGOLETTO, one of the greatest Italian operas by Giuseppe Verdi. Later, I joined Lindsay Kemp’s ensemble and toured the country with LE MASCHERE, a joyful and engaging operetta by Mascagni based on La Commedia dell’Arte. I was happy and proud of being part of such huge productions, and working with Lindsay Kemp, the great choreographer and director who worked closely with artists such as David Bowie and Kate Bush, is definitely one of the best experiences of my career.

In Tuscany I also kept working on my craft and I intensely studied ballet with Marina Van Hoecke, a gifted and demanding teacher who trained Maurice Bejart’s male dancers for more than a decade. Her gentle and tough personality, her immense knowledge and captivating spirit defined profoundly my journey and improved my foundation.

> Third destination: London. One day, Marina, out of the blue, said to me: “I don’t want you in my class anymore. Go somewhere else”. I was devastated. Speechless. I could not understand. I didn’t do anything wrong and I was a devoted student. Why was she pushing me away? It took me many years to understand that the people who really love you and believe in you are the ones who let you go or make you go. Since then, rejection hurts me minimally. I like to believe that that lesson was part of the training.

In London I performed at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, in productions such as BORIS GODUNOV and LA FORZA DEL DESTINO, and I studied ballet with teachers such as Roland Price, Romayne Grigorova, Joan Hewson and Raymond Chai.

> Fourth destination: New York. On my first day in the Big Apple I walked from 42nd street to 75th and Broadway and I ended up at Steps Dance Studio. I still remember the energy, the vibrancy that only a dance studio emanates. I was watching a ballet class and eating a massive walnut muffin. A tall and gentle lady was next to me. She was staring at me and started to ask me simple questions such as: what’s your name? Where are you from? Are you a dancer…..? And a conversation was born. She asked me to audition for her company and, a week later, I found myself in Hartford, Connecticut, rehearsing the Albano NUTRACKER. We performed in different cities and at Mohegan Sun arena.

I am still in New York City and so many beautiful things have happened: I performed at New York Live Arts with Balasole Dance Company (photo above, by Kokyat); at Dixon Place I co-created a solo with the director Albert Andrew Garcia for his new show “Tryptych”, and I was cast as a dancer and actor in the off-Broadway musical “The Raja’s Son and Princess Labam”. Last season I was in AIDA at the Metropolitan Opera and I am currently in their production of TURANDOT. Along the way I was cast in numerous commercials such as: Chase Bank Holiday, JA Bank, Mountain Dew, Bud Light beer and Pima cotton sheets. I made my screen debut in the movie “Top Broker” and I just finished shooting the first season of the series “Play Love”.

Above: Francesco performing in Table of Silence

Last September I joined the Buglisi Dance Company at the Lincoln Plaza in Table of Silence: with a beautiful and emotional dance tribute we remembered and honored the victims of 9/11 and the event was seen livestream all over the world. I was honored to be part of such a remarkable event.

Oh, and in New York City I closed the circle: I trained full-time for two years at HB Studio, the prestigious acting school.

I treasure my experiences. From a village of 600 people, zero money and infinite obstacles, my journey surprises me every day. Next destination: the next rejection(s)! Only then and there do miracles happen.”

~ Guest Author: Francesco Pireddu

October 19, 2017
Monteverdi’s L’ORFEO @ Alice Tully Hall

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday October 18th, 2017 – Tonight marked the first event in our Great Performers at Lincoln Center subscription series: Monteverdi’s L’ORFEO was performed by the Monteverdi Choir and the English Baroque Soloists under the baton of Sir John Eliot Gardiner. Tenor Krystian Adam appeared as Orfeo, enjoying great personal success in the role. The large cast was peopled by fine singing-actors who made their characters come alive in a semi-staged setting. There was some off-pitch singing in the course of the evening, but by the final moresca all was forgiven.

The opera, which was fiirst performed in 1607 as the ducal court of Mantua, charts the story of the singer Orfeo’s love for Euridice, her death from a snake bite, and Orfeo’s journey to hell to bring his beloved back. Moved by Orfeo’s despair and devotion, Plutone allows Euridice to leave the underworld – with the stipulation that Orfeo not look at her during their journey. Orfeo cannot resist, and by gazing at his beloved, he causes her second death. The intervention of Orfeo’s father, Apollo, sends Orfeo heavenward, where he can spend eternity observing Euridice in the afterlife.

Soprano Hana Blažíková opened the prologue as La Musica (she later also appeared as Euridice). At first Ms. Blažíková’s voice seemed too large – almost Tosca-like – but she settled in quickly and did some really impressive, controlled singing in her solo with the excellent harpist Gwyneth Wentink. The story then unfolds.

I hated the semi-staging, at least in the opening scenes where the costumed nymphs and shepherds cavorted in fake camaraderie that had the air of a high-school play. They seemed self-conscious as they embraced one another endlessly, whilst singing repeatedly about how very happy they were for Orfeo. When the story turns darker, things improved considerably. Thenceforth, everyone was clad in black and moved in stylized formations, with the musicians sometimes part of the action.

Mr. Adam as Orfeo made a vivid impression from his first lines. As the character moves from joy to despair, the tenor’s palette of vocal colour provided phrase after phrase of deeply satisfying singing. His long scena upon losing his Euridice for a second time was a vocal marvel, with the words and his poignant phrasing of the music all of a piece.

Basso Gianluca Buratto, a masterful singing-actor, doubled as Caronte and Plutone. As Caronte, having denied Orfeo entrance to the underworld, moved eerily around the stage, intrigued by the sounds of the musical instruments and the people playing them. Mr. Buratto’s large, inky bass sound was superbly inflected, making his scenes highlights of the evening.

A third fascinating voice was that of Korean counter-tenor Kangmin Justin Kim who – as Speranza – sang from the mezzanine. The voice is clear, steady, mystical. There was also fine singing from Lea Desandre (Messagera) and Francesca Boncompagni (Prosperina) – each with a lovely face and form – and notable beauty of tone in Gareth Treseder’s Eco, sung from above with a voice that hung on the air.

Under Sir John Eliot Gardiner’s expert leadership, the evening musically provided endless pleasures. The instrumental ensemble played superbly and there was so much fine vocalism to savour. L’ORFEO was played straight thru in a 2-hour+ stretch, but it flew by.

~ Oberon

October 18, 2017
Opening Night @ The Met: NORMA

~ Author: Oberon

Monday September 25th, 2017 – I took a score desk for this evening’s NORMA at The Met; if memory serves, this the first time I’ve ever attended an opening night.

In 2013, Sondra Radvanovsky gave a sensational portrayal of Norma at the Met. She has sung a great deal since then, and in very demanding roles. One hoped very much that her success tonight might equal or even surpass her prior Met outing as Bellini’s noble and tragic priestess.

The evening started out on a sour note: with a scheduled start-time of 6:30 PM, the hall should have been open for seating by 6:00 PM or very shortly thereafter. Instead, ticket-holders were left standing outside closed doors for nearly 25 minutes. Balcony and Family Circle patrons were packed into the hot, airless area outside the auditorium, and many elderly people found this truly unpleasant. No announcement or explanation was given.

The house was not full as we settled in. Following the playing of the National Anthem, during which no one seemed to be kneeling but some soprano took the ‘Licia Albanese option’, there was a long pause, and at last the opera began. Then there was an immediate disruption in my area as a late-arriving patron was seated by a flashlight-wielding usher.

As I was at score desk, I cannot report on the production, but I do want to see it at some point later in the season: a friend who had attended the dress rehearsal assured me that it’s the kind of production I will like.

Carlo Rizzi has never been more than a routinier; he was absent from The Met for nine years (from 2007 to 2016) but now he’s back, conducting a new production on opening night. This was actually one of the better Rizzi experiences I have had over the years, though still not really inspired. There were some cuts taken, and also a couple of very weird re-arrangements of things, of which there were no signs in the score I was following. The orchestra played quite beautifully all evening – notably the flute solo that introduces “Casta diva” – and the chorus seemed at their best.

Michelle Bradley sang Clothilde – we’ll have to wait to hear her in something bigger to get an idea of the voice, but it seems promising – and Adam Diegel was a vocally strong and assured Flavio.

Matthew Rose (above) was a splendid Oroveso, covering the wide range impressively and bringing the role very much to prominence. Both his great scenes – “Ite sul colle” and “Ah, del Tebro” – were vocal highlights of the evening, and in an story full of broken hearts, Mr. Rose reminded us of Oroveso’s own heartache with his expressive singing in the final pages of the opera.

As Pollione, Joseph Calleja’s voice sounded huge in his opening phrases. I love the sound of his voice, and his phrasing, inflections, and mastery of working piano/pianissimo shadings into the vocal line were truly impressive. Unfortunately, much of his vocalism all evening was beset by a tendency to sing sharp, and this offset the positive aspects of his performance.

I’ve always felt that Adalgisa should be sung by a soprano; despite the thrill of hearing the voice of a Simionato, Horne, or Cossotto in this music, both its range and the character’s supposed youthfulness seem to call for a lighter quality. Joyce DiDonato’s somewhat slender voice definitely has a sopranoish quality to it, and from her first soft entry, her opening monolog (it’s not really an aria) was extremely impressive both as singing and as a portrait of the character: young, hopeful, vacillating in her romantic turmoil. Ms. DiDonato was able to bring a sense of drama to everything while remaining scrupulously musical.

Above: Joyce DiDonato

In the exciting duet for Adalgisa and Pollione that concludes the opera’s first scene there developed a remarkable atmosphere mixing desire with apprehension: Ms. Di Donato’s excellent colourings brought the young priestess’s dilemma to high relief. Stating that she must never see Pollione again draws his query: “E il nostro amor?” (“And what of our love?”) to which Ms. DiDonato replied on an exquisitely sustained top-A: “Ah…l’obbliai!” (” Let it be forgotten!”). Later, Mr. Calleja had one of his loveliest moments as he asked her, sweetly, “Abbandonarmi cosi?” (“You would abandon me, then?”). Later, Ms. DiDonato interpolated an exciting volley at “Mi lascia!” (“Leave me!”), and the end of their duet drew thunderous applause.

From this point forward, Adalgisa’s music is tightly meshed with Norma’s, so I will digress now to discuss Sondra Radvanovsky’s performance of the high priestess’s great opening scena. Establishing her authority at once, the soprano’s well-measured recitative “Sediziose voci” set the groundwork for all that will follow. Calming her people’s cries for war against the Romans, she assures them that Rome will perish – not thru their uprising but “like a viper self-stung…” Then comes the evening’s first great moment of Radvanovsky magic: a simply ravishing, sustained pianissimo high-A on “…io mieto.”

Sondra’s “Casta diva” this evening was one of the most moving and fascinating musical experiences of the past two decades: not only was it beautifully phrased and enunciated: it transcended the act of singing and took us to a higher spiritual level. At first, following along with my score, I was mesmerized not only by the soprano’s unique timbre but also by her ideal turns of phrase: it’s how I’ve always imagined this aria could be sung. I became aware of the palpable hush that had fallen over the House: the entire audience seemed spellbound, afraid to even breathe lest the spell be broken. A singer with the power to hold an opera house in the palm of her hand is a rarity today; in this heartfelt and ever-so-timely prayer for peace, Sondra’s voice seemed like a beacon of hope.

Reassuring the populace that the Roman proconsul will fall with her stunning “Cadra! Punirlo io posso!“, Sondra now sings the cabaletta “Ah bello a me, ritorna” expressing her hope that she can again find joy in her love for Pollione which has of late been strained for some reason she can’t comprehend. Despite a few passing phases where her coloratura was a bit imprecise, Sondra swept thru the first verse with aplomb, then took a cadenza up to a gorgeous ppp high-C before commencing an embellished second verse; this she crowned with a massive high-C.

In the opera’s second scene, the reason for the perceived rift between Norma and Pollione is revealed: he has fallen in love with the younger Adalgisa. In their meeting, as Adalgisa explains her predicament to Norma, the older woman is at first sympathetic; but when it’s revealed that Adalgisa’s suitor is “a Roman”, all hell breaks loose.

In this duet, Norma reassures Adalgisa with the phrase “Ah si, fa core” (“Take heart…!) which carries her up to a sustained top-C. Normally, Adalgisa repeats this phrase and mirrors Norma’s high note; tonight, instead, we went off on some interpolated tangent I’d never heard before. Finally, the two women blend voices in a harmonized cadenza: Radvanovsky and DiDonato matched up very well indeed.

When Pollione shows up (drawing titters from the audience), Sondra launches Norma’s vicious “Oh, non tremare!” with its dual assaults on high-Cs that are simply ballistic. A trace of flatness intruded at “O di qual sei tu vittima” but was quickly set to rights. The ensuing trio is given the full treatment, including a sometimes-cut ‘verse’ for Adalgisa. The stretta is then thrillingly rendered, with Sondra latching on to a stupendous high-D.

How beautifully the Met strings ‘sang’ the melody of “Teneri figli” (“Beloved children..”) at the start of Act II. In the monolog where Norma ponders killing her sons, Sondra made cunning use of chest voice. She sang the long lines of “Teneri figli” with moving inflections.

Adagisa, awash with guilt at having hurt Norma, is shocked to hear Norma ask her to take the children to Pollione and remain with him: “Pei figli suoi…” as Sondra sings with such dazzling control: “…for the sake of his children…” Ms. Di Donato again skirted a high-C that echoes Norma’s, though she seems to have the note in her range.

If my ears played me true, “Mira, O Norma” was sung in F; it might have been better taken down a have-tone as Ms. DiDonato’s voice seemed to be tiring just a bit (though still mighty attractive) and some of her highest notes seemed a bit opaque. Norma’s “Ah perche, perche…” found Sondra at her most marvelous, and together the two women achieved a truly sweet blend. The second verse of “Si, fino al’ora” included some appealing rubato effects. The audience showered the two singers with well-deserved cheers and applause.

Above: Sondra Radvanovsky as Norma in a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo

In the final scene, Norma still has so much to sing, and here Sondra pulled out all the stops and sealed her triumph in no uncertain terms. At first hopeful that Adalgisa might persuade Pollione to come back to the mother of his children (Sondra’s spun-out ppp high-C at “…del primo amore“), such hopes are dashed: Adalgisa has been unsuccessful and Pollione has vowed kidnap his beloved from the Druid temple. Now Norma’s wrath is unleashed: Roman blood shall flow in torrents – a titanic Radvanovsky high-C at “…sangue Romano!” as her warriors emit a surprising, lusty war cry. Rizzi takes the “Guerra” chorus at breakneck speed, but includes the “dawn” ending with Sondra’s floated final note.

Pollione is captured and Norma is to interrogate him. He asks only for a swift death. But in the great duet “In mia man alfin tu sei” (“Your fate is in my hands…”) she taunts him, threatening to kill his children and to reveal Adalgisa’s deceit to the people: deceit punishable by death. Using chest voice to great effect, as well as bewitching softness at “Preghi alfin?”, Sondra is simply at her peak here. Mr. Calleja’s continuing sharpness was a distraction, though.

About to name Adalgisa as a traitor, Norma is gripped by her conscience – how can she accuse the girl of the same crime she herself has committed? When the people cry out for the name of the guilty person, Norma replies “Son io!” (“It is I!”): Sondra taking my breath away yet again. In “Qual core tradisti…”, Pollione sees Norma for the noble, honest woman she is and repents his actions. They will die together at the stake. Sondra’s remarkable piano singing in this ensemble, and her majestic top-B, can be added to the endless list of vocal jewels in her performance.

The end is reached: Norma and Pollione face the pyre together. Then Norma remembers her children: she knows they will be executed as Roman bastards. She confesses the fact of her motherhood to her father, Oroveso, who at first shuns her. Then, in a final overwhelming plea, “Deh, non volerli vittime” (“Do not let them be the victims of my own misdeeds..”), Norma slowly wins her father over. From her piano first pleadings to the overwhelming power of her joy when Oroveso relents, Sondra transforms this passage into the crowning glory of her magnificent performance.

Above: Sondra Radvanovsky as Norma at The Met

Catch the curtain calls here.

~ Oberon

September 25, 2017
The Labèque Sisters|van Zweden|NY Philharmonic

Above: Katia and Marielle Labèque

Author: Oberon

Saturday September 23rd, 2017 – The first thing we noticed upon taking our seats at The New York Philharmonic this evening was that the seating arrangement for the orchestra had changed: risers are now in use. Hopefully this is a permanent enhancement, as it is so pleasing to be able to actually see people like Judith LeClair, Robert Langevin, Anthony McGill, and Liang Wang while they are playing.

This week has marked the start of the Jaap van Zweden era at the Philharmonic, even though it’s not until next season that the appendage “Designate” will be dropped from the title “Music Director”. The orchestra played superbly for the Maestro, and if the vociferous standing ovation that erupted the moment the Mahler 5th ended is any indication, the audience is embracing Mr. van Zweden in no uncertain terms.

The New York premiere of Philip Glass’s Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra opened the program. The Labèque sisters, in fitted black trousers and be-spangled sweaters, were warmly greeted by the crowd; they have been top-rank musicians for a long time and they still look sensationally slender and attractive…and their playing retains its accustomed verve and grace.

Glass calls for a huge orchestra for this most recent of his creations; no fewer than seven percussionists take part, along with vast troupes of string, wind, and brass players. The concerto is in three movements and sets out from a jazzy opening that develops into a feeling of a giant hurdy-gurdy playing as a kozmic merry-go-round swirls madly. Pulsing waves of sound, in dense textures, wash over us. From this turbulence, a lovely misterioso motif for the pianos emerges, with a gong struck softly as an undertone.

The pianists playing in their lower ranges open the second movement, with wooden clappers beating time. The trumpets and flutes join voices; at this point a cellphone went off in the audience but it merged into the musical texture. Rhythmic and textural variety sustain this central movement. The concerto concludes with a sort of adagio of somewhat darkish hues.

The new concerto is appealing in its way, but I can’t say it’s particularly distinctive or memorable. The pianos do not take the prominence one might expect in a concerto setting, but rather they are simply one constant voice in the overall chorus of instruments, given a few solo/duo passages along the way. I was hoping for an encore from the Labèque sisters, or possibly an appearance by Philip Glass, but after a couple of bows, the intermission commenced.

Above: Jaap van Zweden

Mahler’s Fifth Symphony was composed during the summers of 1901 and 1902, during his annual holiday from his job as director of the Vienna Court Opera. It was in Vienna the winter prior to beginning his fifth symphony that Mahler had met Alma Schindler, the beautiful daughter of a famous landscape painter. Mahler proposed to her in the Autumn of 1901, and the symphony, with its journey from mourning thru the dreamworld of the Adagietto to happy triumph seems to mirror the composer’s state of mind with his new-found love.

The symphony’s brilliant opening trumpet fanfare was excitingly introduced by Christopher Martin. As the first three movements of this very long symphony progressed, the Philharmonic players responded thrillingly to Maestro van Zweden’s intense, almost daemonic vision of the score. In the beloved Adagietto, for strings and harp, the conductor’s gentle pace and his summoning of luminous textures from the musicians created a depth of beauty in which we could – for a few minutes – forget the dark dangers of living in today’s uncertain world. In the grandeur of the symphony’s dazzling Rondo-Finale, the maestro and his musicians swept the celebratory feeling forward, pausing only for a couple of momentary roundabouts, and on to its epic conclusion. The audience went wild.

~ Oberon

September 23, 2017
Otakar Kraus as Alberich

Above: Otakar Kraus as Alberich

Baritone Otakar Kraus (1909–1980) was born at Prague; he later became a naturalized citizen of Great Britain. Kraus made his operatic début as Amonasro at Brno in 1935, and was a member of the Bratislava Opera from 1936 to 1939. At the outbreak of World war II, he moved to Britain and joined the touring Carl Rosa Company in 1940.

As a member of the English Opera Group in 1946, Otakar Kraus created the role of Tarquinius in Britten’s The Rape of Lucretia at Glyndebourne, and later sang the role of the Vicar in Albert Herring, and Lockit in Britten’s realization of The Beggar’s Opera. Kraus created the role of Nick Shadow in Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress at Venice in 1951. For the next 22 years, he was associated with the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. There he sang most of the principal baritone parts in addition to creating Diomede in Walton’s Troilus and Cressida in 1954 and King Fisher in Tippett’s The Midsummer Marriage the following year. Otakar Kraus sang Alberich in the Ring Cycle at Bayreuth from 1960-1962.

Kraus retired from the stage in 1973 to teach. In that same year, he was made an Officer of the Order of the British Empire. His pupils have included Robert Lloyd CBE, Sir Willard White, and Sir John Tomlinson.

Otakar Kraus passed away in 1980. The Otakar Kraus Music Trust was founded in his honor.

Otakar Kraus – Bin ich nun frei ~ RHEINGOLD – Bayreuth 1960

September 21, 2017