Category: Opera

Philharmonic Ensembles: In A Fishbowl

Above: composer Bohuslav Martinů

Sunday January 17th, 2016 matinee – Yet another highly enjoyable concert in the Philharmonic Ensembles series at Merkin Hall: artists from The New York Philharmonic performing chamber music in an intimate setting.

These days, more than ever, I am looking to music to lift my spirits and help alleviate the symptoms of weltschmerz that threaten to overwhelm me. Feeling particularly low this morning, part of me wanted simply to stay home; but I headed down to Merkin and just a few moments into the opening Martinů, the dark pall began to lift. By the end of the concert, I felt fortified and ready to face another week.

MARTINŮ – Duo No. 1 for Violin and Cello, H.157
Joo Young Oh, violin; Alexei Yupanqui Gonzales, cello

The afternoon’s opening work was composed by Bohuslav Martinů in 1927 while he was living in Paris, studying with composer Albert Roussel. It’s a delightful two-movement piece – the first soulful, the second a lively dance. Superbly performed by violinist Joo Young Oh and cellist Alexei Yupanqui Gonzales, the slow movement impelled my rejuvenation process after just a few bars with its heartfelt melodies and lovely meshing of the two voices. In the second movement, a long cello solo was really a joy to hear; I thought the violin might have an equal opportunity, but instead the piece danced on to its ending. The two players had a fine rapport, the violinist reaching over to shift the cellist’s score as the cello ‘cadenza’ was launched.

John SICHEL – Fishbowl Diaries No. 3
Vladimir Tsypin, violin; Blake Hinson, bass; John A. Sichel, narrator

In something of a departure, John Sichel’s Fishbowl Diaries #3 featured a spoken narrative, delivered by the composer himself. The three short vignettes were accompanied by the Philharmonic’s Vladimir Tsypin, violin, and Blake Hinson, bass. The first tale, entitled Heather From Card Member Services, was truly droll and had the audience laughing aloud. Juliet of The Rats, a story of thwarted infatuation in a laboratory setting, had Shakesperian allusions. The third and final setting, Dolphin Man: Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha, struck close to home: it tells of that moment in childhood when those of us who are ‘different’ realize that people are laughing at us, either gently or cruelly. Mine happened when I was nine or ten years old, and it put a damper on my self-confidence that has stayed with me to this day. It’s kind of amazing that Mr. Sichel has hit this nail so perfectly on the head.

DVOŘÁK – Piano Trio in E minor, Op. 90, Dumky
Anna Rabinova, violin; Patrick Jee, cello; Wei-Yi Yang, piano

Totally engrossing, uplifting, and thought-provoking was the experience of hearing today’s playing of the Dvořák Dumky trio. “Dumka” literally means “thought”, and the word also refers to a type of Slavic folk-song that veers in mood from mournful to euphoric. Each of the six dumka that Dvořák has strung together for us in this imaginative and marvelous work is a feast in and of itself: poignant melodies abound, only to swirl unexpectedly into vigorous dance passages.

The music calls for both deeply emotional colours and exuberant virtuosity. Anna Rabinova’s passionately expressive playing of the violin line found a complimentary spirit in the rich piano textures of Wei-Yi Yang, whilst heart-stoppingly gorgeous tone from cellist Patrick Jee gave the music its soulful core. The three musicians moved me deeply in this fantastic performance. Bravi, bravi, bravi…

BEETHOVEN – Quintet for Piano and Winds
Sherry Sylar, oboe; Pascual Martínez Forteza, clarinet; Kim Laskowski, bassoon; R. Allen Spanjer, horn; Yi-Fang Huang, piano

Still more delights followed the interval with a performance of the Beethoven Quintet for Piano and Winds. Here, Yi-Fang Huang was the lyrically deft pianist, and the wind voices gave us an especially mellow blend in the Andante cantabile. R. Allen Spanger, who I met and enjoyed chatting with often while I was working at Tower (he’s an avid opera fan) produced that autumnally luminous sound that I always strove for in my horn-playing years but never achieved. The three reed players were congenially matched: Sherry Sylar (oboe), Pascual Martinez Fortenza (clarinet), and Kim Laskowski (bassoon) traded melodies and mingled their timbres in a performance rich in sonic rewards.

We emerged from the hall into a gentle snowfall. The music had worked its magic. My sincere gratitude to all the participating artists.

January 17, 2016
Joshua Bell’s Mendelssohn @ The NY Phil

Wednesday December 30th, 2015 – Joshua Bell (above) played Mendelssohn’s violin concerto with The New York Philharmonic tonight on a program that was otherwise an all-Sibelius affair, in celebration of the Finnish composer’s 150th birthday.

Sibelius’s The Swan of Tuonela, which opened the evening, was originally to have been included in an opera the composer was working on. It later became one of the Four Legends – the best-known of the four and often played as a stand-alone work. Tuonela, the realm of the dead in Finnish mythology, is surrounded by a dark-water moat on which the swan of Tuonela floats majestically, singing.

This is music of somber gorgeousness. Sibelius structures the work on a cushioning of strings; Carter Brey’s mournful cello theme sets the tone. An evocative English horn passage (played, I believe, by Robert Botti – though we didn’t catch sight of him) leads to a brief brightening of mood. But the swan glides back into the gloom and her voice fades away to a mysterious heartbeat. At the composer’s wish, The Swan of Tuonela was performed at his own funeral.

Alan Gilbert spoke to us before commencing the Sibelius Symphony No. 4. He seemed to veer from personal enthusiasm for the piece to apologizing for its depressing qualities. The symphony was written while the composer was dealing with problems stemming from alcoholism. This probably accounts for the work’s disjointed qualities.

Forward-looking harmonically, the 4th does not sound like most of the other music that has given Sibelius lasting popularity over the years. Carter Brey again had a leading theme – played with striking lyricism – in the first movement. Later, as the ensuing movements unfold, the oboe, clarinet, and flute will all have their moments to shine forth. Maestro Gilbert referred to the second movement as a Scherzo, but if it’s a joke it stems from a very dark sense of humour; oddly, it includes a brief gavotte motif for flute duo…charming, but it goes un-developed. The big, deep theme of the Adagio comes closest to what we could think of as Sibelian. The agitated opening of the final Allegro – which includes the unexpected introduction of the glockenspiel – does not resolve in a positive way.

Overall, the Sibelius 4th seemed an odd inclusion on a holiday-season program. Interestingly, it had not been played by the Philharmonic for nearly 30 years. Tonight’s audience reacted with a mixture of admiration for the playing and uncertainty as to whether they really liked the piece or not.

Following the interval, Joshua Bell appeared for the Mendelssohn violin concerto. This was the composer’s last completed orchestral work: within three years of its premiere in 1845, he had died at the age of 38 following a series of strokes.

Mendelssohn’s violin concerto is innovative in that its three movements are played without pause, preventing mood-breaking applause. Eschewing gratuitous technical flourishes, the composer instead goes in for heartfelt melody. There are brilliant and demanding passages to be sure, but they are more conscientiously woven into the musical fabric than tacked on to display the violinist’s deftness.

The concerto in fact seemed like a conversation between soloist and orchestra and, in the course of playing it, Mr. Bell often turned towards the musicians to keep the dialogue flowing in both directions. It goes without saying that the orchestra played superbly, and that Maestro Gilbert was in his particular element here – especially in the Adagio, where he and Mr. Bell communed in an almost balletic pas de deux.

Throughout, in fact, the black-clad violinist wove, bent, and swayed in a dance that had just a trace of the satanic about it as he drew the music from his 1713 Stradivarius. Right from the start – in that lovely and rather restless opening theme – Mr. Bell assured us we were in the presence of a musician of matchless technique, inspired artistry, and deep commitment. His capacity for subtle nuance was spine-tingling, and the satiny lustre of his sustained playing in the Adagio was – in a word – magical.

Among the many felicities in this performance, I particularly liked Maestro Gilbert’s up-sweep of tempo as the first movement neared its conclusion, and some dashing attacks from Mr. Bell in the finale. It was a performance to treasure, and the audience could not suppress their enthusiasm: the applause erupted a split second before the final note could fade away. Mr. Bell was called out three times, and could easily have served up an encore or two: I liked instead that he let the concerto stand as his year-end gift to us. Bravo!

Returning to Sibelius to end the evening, Maestro Gilbert and the Philharmonic gave us a soul-stirring rendering of the composer’s Finlandia: a sure-fire crowd-pleaser, performed with resonant grandeur.

December 30, 2015
Chausson & Debussy

Above: Ernest Chausson turning pages for Claude Debussy, at Luzancy in 1893

The composers Ernest Chausson and Claude Debussy were great friends, and their admiration for one another’s music continued even after Chausson took Debussy to task for his debauched lifestyle.

In the Summer of 1893, Chausson has rented a house in Luzancy and invited Debussy to come for a long stay. Knowing of Debussy’s keen interest on the music of Modest Moussorgsky, Chausson had sent off for a score of the Russian composer’s BORIS GODUNOV and Debussy spent many hours at the piano, playing thru the opera, with Chausson seated to his left, turning the pages.

Chausson’s catalog of compositions is relatively brief, for his life was cut short by a bicycling accident in 1899. he was killed instantly, at the age of 44.

Chausson left us one great symphony, one opera (LE ROI ARTHUS), the gorgeous Poème de l’amour et de la Mer; the haunting Poème for violin and orchestra (used by Anthony Tudor for his ballet JARDIN AUX LILAS); chamber works, and songs.

Here is one of Chausson’s best-known works:

Chausson~Chanson perpetuelle – Sandra Porter – BBC 1996

December 20, 2015
Chausson & Debussy

Above: Ernest Chausson turning pages for Claude Debussy, at Luzancy in 1893

The composers Ernest Chausson and Claude Debussy were great friends, and their admiration for one another’s music continued even after Chausson took Debussy to task for his debauched lifestyle.

In the Summer of 1893, Chausson has rented a house in Luzancy and invited Debussy to come for a long stay. Knowing of Debussy’s keen interest on the music of Modest Moussorgsky, Chausson had sent off for a score of the Russian composer’s BORIS GODUNOV and Debussy spent many hours at the piano, playing thru the opera, with Chausson seated to his left, turning the pages.

Chausson’s catalog of compositions is relatively brief, for his life was cut short by a bicycling accident in 1899. he was killed instantly, at the age of 44.

Chausson left us one great symphony, one opera (LE ROI ARTHUS), the gorgeous Poème de l’amour et de la Mer; the haunting Poème for violin and orchestra (used by Anthony Tudor for his ballet JARDIN AUX LILAS); chamber works, and songs.

Here is one of Chausson’s best-known works:

Chausson~Chanson perpetuelle – Sandra Porter – BBC 1996

December 19, 2015
Unseen: Not Just Another TOSCA @ The Met

Above: Maestro Joseph Colaneri

Saturday November 28th, 2015 matinee – Arriving at The Met for today’s matinee of TOSCA, I found that patrons are now being ‘wanded’ by security forces on entering the house. Once inside, I watched the auditorium not fill up: at curtain time there were an alarming number of empty seats. If a Saturday matinee of a popular opera on a holiday weekend cannot sell better than this, what’s to be done? From my score desk, I avoided the dreariness of the Luc Bondy production, instead letting this exciting traversal of the score play out dramatically in my theatre of the mind. Later in the day, news came of Mr. Bondy’s death – he’s the same age as me.

Liudmyla Monastyrska’s 2012 Aida at The Met was interesting enough draw me back to the House this afternoon to hear her as Tosca. Roberto Aronica, a idiomatically solid Cavaradossi in a performance I attended earlier this season, and Marco Vratogna, new to me, shared the stage with the Ukrainian soprano. All three sang passionately, and they had the right sized voices for their roles in the big space. But in the end it was the opera itself, and conductor Joseph Colaneri’s marvelous feeling for the music, that kept me on to the end and had me shouting bravo! for the Maestro at the curtain calls.

Colaneri is a real opera conductor: he knows that the voices come first and he can immediately establish a dynamic range to suit whatever cast he’s presiding over. Every singer is always heard, and if in the heat of the moment someone in the cast should rush ahead or linger too long on a note, Colaneri can immediately adjust and keep the flow of the music steady. My hat is off to him for this TOSCA, which seemed so fresh and alive, almost as if I was hearing it for the first time instead of the 500th.

Today’s TOSCA was much more the sort of performance of this opera that I want to hear than the one I attended earlier this month, where Angela Gheorghiu’s walking-on-eggshells singing of the title role siphoned off much of the excitement. Today, Ms. Monastyrska displayed the needed vocal amplitude for the music of Tosca, and she and her colleagues sang with generosity and commitment all afternoon.

Two powerful bassos each made their mark in the first act: Richard Bernstein (Angelotti) and John Del Carlo (Sacristan) both sounded huge, declaiming their lines vividly. Later, in Act III, Connor Tsui sang the song of the shepherd so impressively that I felt like applauding.

Mr. Aronica, first of the principals to appear, has a sturdy, masculine sound which he flung into the house confidently. Some passing flatness at the passaggio was not a serious detriment to his performance. Having had to rein his voice in somewhat when singing opposite Mme. Gheorghiu in the earlier performance, he was today much better matched with Ms. Monastyrska and together they poured out the big melodies of the love duet with apt Puccinian fervor. Later, vowing to aid Angelotti, Aronica speared a triumphant high-B on “La vita mi costasse!” and held onto it.

As the diva playing the diva, Ms. Monastyrska established her vocal credentials with her commanding offstage cries of “Mario! Mario!”. Once onstage, her voice revealed a slightly throaty throb, and a bit of flutter that quickly endeared itself as it gave a trace of vulnerability to the character. The Monastyrska sound sails easily into the hall, especially as she ventures to the upper end of her range. She puts very little pressure in the lower notes, and showed good instincts in lightening the voice for “Non la sospiri” and the playful banter about the colour of the Attavanti’s eyes. Some rather odd diction along the way didn’t bother me in the least, especially when she and Mr. Aronica cut loose to exciting effect in the climaxes of their duet.

Diction and its effectiveness played a good part of the success of Marco Vratogna’s Scarpia. His voice has a darkish, menacing quality and his creepy verbal nuances revealed the sadism lurking under his quasi-elegant veneer. For all his dramatic bite, Vratogna could also deliver real, sustained vocalism when it suited him: his “Tosca divina, la mano mia…” was musically reassuring. The Attavanti fan having done its work, Ms. Monastyrska – her voice now at full flourish – gave a walloping shout at “Tu non l’avrai stasera…GIURO!” and went on to an exciting crescendo at “…egli vede ch’io piango!” Maestro Colaneri then marshaled the orchestra and chorus for the grandiose finale, giving the music its full sweep but never overwhelming Mr. Vratogna’s relishing of the text as he salivates over his plan for Tosca’s ultimate surrender.

Mr. Vratogna impressed at the start of Act II with his greasily subtle musings on being so close to having Tosca in his trap; increasingly angry with Spoletta, the baritone understandably blustered a bit. Cavaradossi is brought in and then taken off to be tortured and the cat-and-mouse game between Tosca and Scarpia begins.

Ms. Monastyrska monumental high-A on “Solo, si!” was soon followed by one of her rare ventures into chest voice at “Sogghigno di demone!”…very effective. Maestro Colaneri built the drama thrillingly as Scarpia baited Tosca mercilessly; from a bold and brassy top C down to a plaintive murmur at “Che v’ho fatto in vita mia..?” Monastyrska had really gotten into it.

Tosca blurts out the truth about Angelotti’s hiding place to Scarpia; her lover, on discovering she’s caved in, is about to disown her when news of Bonaparte’s victory at Marengo throws Scarpia for a loop. Colaneri in a great moment drove the orchestra relentlessly and Aronica tackled a passionate top-A on “Vittoria!”. The Monastyrska high-C as she sees her lover dragged away was massive – slightly raw, but thrilling.

A false calm is restored. Scarpia/Vratogna offers his bargain. Describing his lust for Tosca, the baritone was slightly taxed by the highish tessitura here but verbally makes it all work. Monastyrska began the “Vissi d’arte” softly, slowly opening the voice and phrasing throughout with lovely modulations of colour and volume; she went totally lyric at “Diedi gioielli della Madonna al manto…” before the build-up to a house-filling B-flat, followed immediately by a pulling back on the A-flat and then a stunning crescendo to triple forte on the G. I’ve never heard it done this way, but the soprano pulled it off impressively.

The murder scene was less effective than some I have heard – Monastyrska’s parlando phrases were not really effectively rendered – but Colaneri and his orchestra’s superb playing of the postlude to the murder was so atmospheric.

Fantastic work from The Met horns at the opening of Act III; the prelude was yet another Colaneri jewel, evolving to the amazingly deep sounds that precede the introduction of the “E lucevan le stelle…” theme. Basso Tyler Simpson made his mark as the jailer, and then the haunting prelude to the tenor’s aria commences. Mr. Aronica was at his finest here, with an intense and passionate ending which won him sustained applause.

Monastyrska/Tosca arrives; she describes the murder of Scarpia vividly, culminating in a blindingly bright and very long high-C at “Io quella lama…”. Maestro Colaneri and his players sustained their high level as the soprano and tenor joined in a flowing duet before soaring to a stentorian high-B just before their unison “Trionfal!” And then Scarpia’s last trick is played out and the opera ends in a flash.

The tedium of two Gelb-intermissions was relieved by chatting up a young pianist from Montreal, visiting the Met – and our City – for the first time.

Metropolitan Opera House November 28th, 2015 matinee

TOSCA Giacomo Puccini
Tosca...................Liudmyla Monastyrska Cavaradossi.............Roberto Aronica Scarpia.................Marco Vratogna Sacristan...............John Del Carlo Spoletta................Eduardo Valdes Angelotti...............Richard Bernstein Sciarrone...............Jeffrey Wells Shepherd................Connor Tsui Jailer..................Tyler Simpson

Conductor...............Joseph Colaneri

November 28, 2015
At Home With Wagner IX

What looked quite enticing on paper – a 1963 WALKURE from Stockholm – proved frustrating, not because the performance was sub-par in any way, but because it turned out to be mis-labled and incomplete.

The recording starts mid-way thru Act I. Michael Gielen, a conductor I know little about, has the score well in hand although the orchestra isn’t always up to Wagner’s demands. Arne Tyrén is a less boisterous Hunding than some I have heard, and his voice can take on a wonderfully spooky quality. Birgit Nilsson’s ‘Ho-Jo-To-Ho’ is a marvel, her voice bright and fresh: she makes this daunting opening passage sound easy. Unfortunately, there’s not much more to be said of her performance here, since the Todesverkundigung is ruined by what seems to have been the wayward speed of the source machine used to tape the performance. The pitch rolls up and down with a seasick effect. Then, the third act is missing entirely!

The Wälsung twins are appealingly sung by Aase Nordmo-Lövberg (above) and Kolbjörn Höiseth. Ms. Nordmo-Lövberg, a very fine Elsa in Nicolai Gedda’s only performances of Lohengrin, brings poised lyricism and a fine sense of the words to the role of Sieglinde.

Mr. Höiseth (above) sang briefly at The Met in 1975: he debuted as Froh in RHEINGOLD and repeated that role once; then he stepped in once for an indisposed colleague as Loge and once for an ailing Jon Vickers as Siegmund. I saw him in both the RHEINGOLD roles and he made a favorable impression. Here, as Siegmund, he is a good match for Nordmo-Lövberg – their voices are lyrically compatible. The tenor does experience a couple of random pitch problems, and seems just a shade tired vocally at the end of Act I – understandable, after such a taxing sing. But he makes a good effect in both the Sword Monologue and in the Winterstürme and also in the Act II scene where he attempts to calm to delirious Sieglinde as they flee from her pursuing husband. It’s a pity that the Todesverkundigung is so garbled: I would like to have heard Nilsson and Höiseth in this scene which is my favorite part of the opera.

The mezzo-soprano Kerstin Meyer (above) had a more extensive Met career than her tenor colleague: she sang the Composer in the Met premiere of ARIADNE AUF NAXOS and also appeared as Carmen and Gluck’s Orfeo at the Old House. Here, as Fricka, she is impressive indeed: she begins lyrically – subtle and sure – and soon works herself into a state of righteous indignation. Her victory over Wotan is a triumph of will. Meyer sings quite beautifully, with clear expressiveness.

Beautiful vocalism also marks the Wotan of Sigurd Björling (above). The voice is not stentorian, though he can punch out some impressive notes; the monologue is internalized, sung with a sense of hopelessness that is quite haunting. Despite errant pitch at times, Björling’s performance is moving and makes me truly regret that the third act is missing.

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

Above: Wolfgang Sawallisch

A tremendous performance of GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG from Munich 1977 gave me a great deal of listening pleasure. I spent several hours with this recording, listening to whole acts repeatedly and zeroing in on favorite scenes to savor the individual characterizations of the very fine cast. Maestro Wolfgang Sawallisch’s shaping of the glorious score had a great deal to do with sustaining the air of excitement around this performance.

This GÖTTERDÄMMERUNG was clearly recorded in-house; the sound of the microphone being fumbled with sometimes intrudes, and there are passages where a singer is too far off-mike to make a vocal impact…and other times when the recordist seems to be sitting literally in the singers’ laps.

The first voice we hear is – incredibly – that of Astrid Varnay; essaying the role of the First Norn, Varnay sounds a bit matronly at times, but she is so authoritative and dramatically alert that it hardly matters. Her diction and word-colourings are endlessly admirable, and her low notes have deep, natural power – most especially on her final “Hinab!” As the Second Norn, Hildegard Hillebrecht is a bit unsettled vocally at times (the role lays low for her). Ruth Falcon’s singing of the Third Norn is more lyrical than some who have essayed the role.

Sawallisch’s forward flow provides a nice build-up to Brunnhilde’s first entry; off-mike at first, it soon becomes evident that Ingrid Bjoner is on peak form for this performance. The voice won’t be to all tastes, but its silvery power, impressive lower range, and sustained phrasing which Bjoner brings forth are thrilling to me, a long-time fan. Jean Cox as Siegfried doesn’t quite equal his 1975 Bayreuth performance of the role, but he’s so sure of himself and has both the heft and the vocal stamina that’s needed. As Sawallisch builds the Dawn Duet with passionate urgency, Bjoner spears a couple of splendid high B-flats before her brightly attacked, sustained climactic high-C.

At the Gibichung Hall we meet the excellent Gunther of Hans Günther Nöcker and the vocally less-impressive but involved Gutrune of Leonore Kirchstein (near the end of the opera, she emits a gruesome scream on discovering the truth about Siegfried’s death). The dominating vocal force of the opera from here on in – along with Bjoner – is the resplendently sung and theatrically vivid Hagen of Karl Ridderbusch. The basso’s rendering of ‘The Watch’ is simply incredible.

Another potent performance is the splendid Waltraute of Ortrun Wenkel, who attained international fame for her remarkable performance as Erda in Pierre Chéreau’s 1976 production of the RING Cycle for Bayreuth which was telecast in its entirety and is preserved on DVD. Wenkel’s abundant tone and vivid sense of the character make her scene with the equally thrilling Bjoner Brunnhilde an outstanding part of this performance. If Waltraute’s parting high-A – always a thorny note for a contralto essaying this role – is cut short, it scarcely distracts from the excitement the Bjoner/Wenkel sister-scene has generated.

Bjoner is staunch in her defense of the ring from the attacking Gunther-Siegfried; abetted by Sawallisch and Mr. Cox, the soprano brings the first act of this performance to an exciting close.

But then things soar even higher, for in an Act II that borders on insanity, the maestro and his cast all seemed to be in the grip of madness. The act begins with the eerie scene where Alberich (creepy singing from Zoltan Kelemen) appears as a vision to the sleeping Hagen. The summoning of the vassals is massively impressive, and later, in the great scene of oath-swearing, Cox and Bjoner blaze away. Throughout the act, the ever-keen Sawallisch guides his forces with a masterful hand. Simply thrilling.

A nicely-blended trio of Rhinemaidens (Lotte Schädle, Marianne Seibel, and Liliana Netschewa) give us a lyrical interlude at the start of Act III: all three vocal parts are clearly distinguishable and they are finely supported by the atmospheric playing of the orchestra, with the horn calls very well-managed. Jean Cox is very much on-mike as he encounters the girls: his big, leathery high-C is sustained…and then he chuckles to himself.

Following Hagen’s betrayal, Cox’s farewell to life and to Brunnhilde is wonderfully supported by Sawallisch: the orchestra playing here is so impressive, the tenderness of the final greeting so lovingly conveyed.

Now Sawallish takes up a deep, glowering rendition of the prelude to the Funeral March; contrasts of weight and colour add to the sonic build-up until the great theme bursts forth in its full-blown grandeur. The spot-on trumpet fanfare and the solid assurance of the horns are a great asset here.

Ridderbusch is terrifying in vocal power and cruelty as he seizes control of the scene, but the raising of the hand of the dead Siegfried when Hagen goes for the ring puts Alberich’s son in his place at last. The cleansing descending scale sets the scene for Brunnhilde, and even though Bjoner is off-mike for the opening of the Immolation Scene, she is vocally unassailable: by “Wie sonne laute…” the mike has found her and she shows both great power and great subtlety in this music. Bjoner’s low notes are vivid, her sustained, lyrical thoughts of the ravens imaginatively expressed, and her noble “Ruhe…ruhe, du Gott!” has a benedictive quality and is very moving. Following her passionate disavowal of the ring, the soprano surges forward with a thrilling greeting of Grane and some exalting top notes to seal her great success in this arduous role. Then Sawallisch and the orchestra bring the opera to a mighty close.

Above: Jean Cox and Ingrid Bjoner

November 27, 2015
Vinson Cole

Tenor Vinson Cole sings Richard Strauss’s Morgen.

Vinson Cole – Morgen – Richard Strauss

“And tomorrow the sun will shine once more, and on the path that I will take it will unite us – we fortunate ones – upon this sun-drenched Earth. And to the broad shore with its blue waves we will quietly go down; we will look into one another’s eyes, and the silence of happiness will descend upon us.”

November 18, 2015
TURANDOT at The Met – 2nd of 4

Above: Lise Lindstrom in the Metropolitan Opera’s production of TURANDOT

Monday October 26th, 2015 – It’s always fun to bring someone to the opera who hasn’t been in a while or who is unfamiliar with a particular work. When my choreographer/friend Lydia Johnson and I decided to spend an evening at The Met, I quickly settled on Franco Zeffirelli’s classic production of TURANDOT. In an age where less is supposedly more when it comes to opera stagings, this TURANDOT clings to the forbidden notion that grand opera should still be grand. Is this the sort of thing the public really wants to see? A virtually full house, including tons of young people, seemed to be saying “Yes!”

It was a good performance, but in the end it was the opera itself that was the star of the evening. Beyond the Chinoiserie which decorates the score, we have Puccini – the master-orchestrator – creating harmonies and textures that are so atmospheric. Lydia was fascinated by what she was hearing; I told her she must try FANCIULLA DEL WEST next.

The Met Orchestra were on optimum form – and the chorus, too. Both forces were capable of lusty vigor one moment and subtle delicacy the next. Conductor Paolo Carignani paced the opera superbly and brought forth much detail from the musicians; a tendency to cover the singers at times should have been resolved by this point in the run, but instead the conductor went blithely on, seemingly unable to comprehend that a forte for Marcelo Alvarez is not the same as a forte for Mario del Monaco.

For all that, the singing for the most part was pleasing and well-tuned to the drama of the work. David Crawford was an excellent Mandarin, ample-toned and investing the words with proper authority. Ronald Naldi as the Emperor Altoum projected successfully from his throne on Amsterdam Avenue, and Eduardo Valdes, Tony Stevenson, and – especially – Dwayne Croft made the most of the Ping-Pang-Pong scene.

James Morris’ aged timbre made a touching effect in the music of the blind king Timur. Leah Crocetto’s soprano sounded a bit fluttery at the start, but she moved the audience with her lovingly-shaped “Signore ascolta” and was excellent in her third act scene, winning the evening’s loudest cheers at curtain call. While Marcelo Alvarez is clearly over-parted by Calaf’s music, a more thoughtful conductor could have aided the tenor in turning his lyrical approach to the role into something perfectly viable. But that didn’t happen, and while there were many handsome moments in Alvarez’s singing, at the climax of “Nessun dorma” the conductor was of no help. There was no applause after this beloved aria, even though it was actually quite beautifully sung.

Lise Lindstrom is undoubtedly the most physically appealing Turandot I have ever beheld, and she also manages to make the character something more than a cardboard ice queen. Lindstrom’s lithe, attractive figure and her natural grace of movement were great assets in her portrayal; she looked particularly fetching in those scenes where she’s divested of the heavy robes and headpieces and seems like a young princess, almost vulnerable in her sky-blue gown and long black hair.

After a couple of warm-up phrases in which there was a trace of cloudiness in her upper-middle voice, Lindstrom’s singing took on its characteristic high-flying power as she pulled the treacherous high notes out of thin air with assured attacks. The narrative “In questa reggia” was presented as both a vocal and verbal auto-biography, her upper range zinging over the orchestra. Lindstrom’s Riddle Scene was vividly dramatic; having experienced defeat, her plea to Altoum was urgent and moving, and the she advanced downstage to deliver the two shining top-Cs over the massed chorus. Her acting as Calaf offered her a way out was detailed and thoughtful.

In Act III Lindstrom was totally assured vocally, with a persuasive melting at Calaf’s kiss and a nuanced rendering of “Del primo pianto”; in the high phrases following the prince’s revelation of his name, the soprano was very much at home. She ended the opera on a high B-flat attacked softly and then expanded to a glistening brilliance.

Lydia was very moved by the opera – and especially taken with the gestural language of Chiang Ching’s choreography – and we stayed to cheer the singers. She agreed with me, though, that dramatically the “happy ending” is incomprehensible. That Calaf should want to marry a woman who has sent dozens of men to their deaths, threatened to torture his own father, and caused the suicide of the faithful Liu just doesn’t make sense. But then, fairy tales seldom do.

Metropolitan Opera House October 26th, 2015
TURANDOT Giacomo Puccini Turandot................Lise Lindstrom Calàf...................Marcelo Álvarez Liù.....................Leah Crocetto Timur...................James Morris Ping....................Dwayne Croft Pang....................Tony Stevenson Pong....................Eduardo Valdes Emperor Altoum..........Ronald Naldi Mandarin................David Crawford Maid....................Anne Nonnemacher Maid....................Mary Hughes Prince of Persia........Sasha Semin Executioner.............Arthur Lazalde Three Masks: Elliott Reiland, Andrew Robinson, Amir Levy Temptresses: Jennifer Cadden, Oriada Islami Prifti, Rachel Schuette, Sarah Weber-Gallo
Conductor...............Paolo Carignani

October 27, 2015
TURANDOT at The Met – 2nd of 4

Above: Lise Lindstrom in the Metropolitan Opera’s production of TURANDOT

Monday October 26th, 2015 – It’s always fun to bring someone to the opera who hasn’t been in a while or who is unfamiliar with a particular work. When my choreographer/friend Lydia Johnson and I decided to spend an evening at The Met, I quickly settled on Franco Zeffirelli’s classic production of TURANDOT. In an age where less is supposedly more when it comes to opera stagings, this TURANDOT clings to the forbidden notion that grand opera should still be grand. Is this the sort of thing the public really wants to see? A virtually full house, including tons of young people, seemed to be saying “Yes!”

It was a good performance, but in the end it was the opera itself that was the star of the evening. Beyond the Chinoiserie which decorates the score, we have Puccini – the master-orchestrator – creating harmonies and textures that are so atmospheric. Lydia was fascinated by what she was hearing; I told her she must try FANCIULLA DEL WEST next.

The Met Orchestra were on optimum form – and the chorus, too. Both forces were capable of lusty vigor one moment and subtle delicacy the next. Conductor Paolo Carignani paced the opera superbly and brought forth much detail from the musicians; a tendency to cover the singers at times should have been resolved by this point in the run, but instead the conductor went blithely on, seemingly unable to comprehend that a forte for Marcelo Alvarez is not the same as a forte for Mario del Monaco.

For all that, the singing for the most part was pleasing and well-tuned to the drama of the work. David Crawford was an excellent Mandarin, ample-toned and investing the words with proper authority. Ronald Naldi as the Emperor Altoum projected successfully from his throne on Amsterdam Avenue, and Eduardo Valdes, Tony Stevenson, and – especially – Dwayne Croft made the most of the Ping-Pang-Pong scene.

James Morris’ aged timbre made a touching effect in the music of the blind king Timur. Leah Crocetto’s soprano sounded a bit fluttery at the start, but she moved the audience with her lovingly-shaped “Signore ascolta” and was excellent in her third act scene, winning the evening’s loudest cheers at curtain call. While Marcelo Alvarez is clearly over-parted by Calaf’s music, a more thoughtful conductor could have aided the tenor in turning his lyrical approach to the role into something perfectly viable. But that didn’t happen, and while there were many handsome moments in Alvarez’s singing, at the climax of “Nessun dorma” the conductor was of no help. There was no applause after this beloved aria, even though it was actually quite beautifully sung.

Lise Lindstrom is undoubtedly the most physically appealing Turandot I have ever beheld, and she also manages to make the character something more than a cardboard ice queen. Lindstrom’s lithe, attractive figure and her natural grace of movement were great assets in her portrayal; she looked particularly fetching in those scenes where she’s divested of the heavy robes and headpieces and seems like a young princess, almost vulnerable in her sky-blue gown and long black hair.

After a couple of warm-up phrases in which there was a trace of cloudiness in her upper-middle voice, Lindstrom’s singing took on its characteristic high-flying power as she pulled the treacherous high notes out of thin air with assured attacks. The narrative “In questa reggia” was presented as both a vocal and verbal auto-biography, her upper range zinging over the orchestra. Lindstrom’s Riddle Scene was vividly dramatic; having experienced defeat, her plea to Altoum was urgent and moving, and the she advanced downstage to deliver the two shining top-Cs over the massed chorus. Her acting as Calaf offered her a way out was detailed and thoughtful.

In Act III Lindstrom was totally assured vocally, with a persuasive melting at Calaf’s kiss and a nuanced rendering of “Del primo pianto”; in the high phrases following the prince’s revelation of his name, the soprano was very much at home. She ended the opera on a high B-flat attacked softly and then expanded to a glistening brilliance.

Lydia was very moved by the opera – and especially taken with the gestural language of Chiang Ching’s choreography – and we stayed to cheer the singers. She agreed with me, though, that dramatically the “happy ending” is incomprehensible. That Calaf should want to marry a woman who has sent dozens of men to their deaths, threatened to torture his own father, and caused the suicide of the faithful Liu just doesn’t make sense. But then, fairy tales seldom do.

Metropolitan Opera House October 26th, 2015
TURANDOT Giacomo Puccini Turandot................Lise Lindstrom Calàf...................Marcelo Álvarez Liù.....................Leah Crocetto Timur...................James Morris Ping....................Dwayne Croft Pang....................Tony Stevenson Pong....................Eduardo Valdes Emperor Altoum..........Ronald Naldi Mandarin................David Crawford Maid....................Anne Nonnemacher Maid....................Mary Hughes Prince of Persia........Sasha Semin Executioner.............Arthur Lazalde Three Masks: Elliott Reiland, Andrew Robinson, Amir Levy Temptresses: Jennifer Cadden, Oriada Islami Prifti, Rachel Schuette, Sarah Weber-Gallo
Conductor...............Paolo Carignani

October 26, 2015
BSO: ELEKTRA @ Carnegie Hall

Wednesday October 21st, 2015 – Conductor Andris Nelsons (above) leading a powerful concert performance of Richard Strauss’s ELEKTRA given by the Boston Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall. The evening was a great personal triumph for soprano Christine Goerke, who gave a vocally and physically super-charged rendering of one of opera’s most demanding roles.

Strauss calls for a massive orchestra for this, his most demented work; the Boston players were sprawled across the entire space of the Carnegie stage, with the chorus at the end singing from an upper tier of the hall. The musicians played their hearts out and, under Nelsons’ authoritative baton, they delivered the music with tremendous flair in all its glistening glory. There were also superbly refined stretches, notably in the Klytaemnestra scene where the maestro and musicians painted a neurotic sound setting for an amazingly nuanced performance of the role by Jane Henschel.

The large cast included some names to reckon with in the smaller roles: Nadine Secunde (Overseer), Elizabeth Byrne (Confidante), the Met’s Mark Schowalter (Young Servant) and stalwart basso Kevin Langan (Old Servant/Orestes’ Guardian).

In the opening scene, the psychopathic maids were a raucous lot; as they carried on their vile gossip session about Elektra – the royal princess reduced to the status of a caged animal in her own home – Ms. Goerke, in a striking blood-red gown, strode among the violins in a state of fevered anxiousness. At last the maids hauled off the fifth of their number to be beaten for defending Elektra, and Ms. Goerke took center stage.

She began the great monolog with sounds of deep, guttural anguish. As in her recent Met Turandot, Goerke’s voice narrowed as she ventured higher and some of the upper notes were covered by the orchestra. This necessitated an adjustment for those of us inured to the likes of Nilsson, Behrens, and Dame Gwyneth Jones in this music. Yet Goerke knew what she was doing and she went about the music on her own terms; by the scene with Klytaemnestra, the Goerke voice was firing on all cylinders and she delivered a performance on a par with her career-defining portrayal of the Dyer’s Wife at The Met in 2013.

Above: Christine Goerke

The soprano’s portrayal of Elektra was so committed and intense: she entered into the physicality of the role as if in a staged performance, interacting brilliantly with her colleagues and even including a frantic, manic dance at the end. Vocally she sailed forth undaunted by the orchestra’s volume and hurling out the character’s dramatic punch lines (“Triff noch einmal!”) with force. Summoning up a colossal effort for the last sprint, Goerke packed a final punch with her ecstatic “Schweig, und tanze!” before collapsing into her chair. The ensuing ovation for the intrepid soprano was epic, and very much well-deserved.

As the hapless Chrysothemis, Gun-Brit Barkmin made a far better impression than she had as Salome in this same hall in 2014. Slender of frame and of voice, she nevertheless finds a way of projecting over the orchestra and her shining top notes made me think she might be a good SIEGFRIED Brunnhilde. Errant pitch was sometimes evident, but overall Ms. Barkmin did well and was a good foil for Ms. Goerke.

Jane Henschel (above), though the top of her voice must now be handled with care, gave such a illuminatingly subtle and detailed performance as the demented Klytaemnestra – playing off the words and using a kozmic array of vocal colours – that a few random strained notes were only of passing worry. She and Goerke made their encounter crackle with verbal vibrancy: the most dramatically engrossing passage of the evening.

James Rutherford was a sturdy-voiced but not especially imaginative Orestes. The great Recognition Scene was not persuasively staged, though Goerke’s singing after the revelation was wonderful….and deeply felt; and here the orchestra playing was sublime. Gerhard Siegel was a capital Aegisth, vividly neurotic and strongly sung: his final “Weh mir!”, voiced onstage, was a lightning bolt rather than a last gasp.

October 21, 2015