Category: Opera

New York Choral Society: A SEA SYMPHONY

Thursday April 25, 2013 – “Behold the sea!” is the ecstatic phrase intoned by the chorus at the start of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ epic A SEA SYMPHONY. This evening the New York Choral Society offered this masterpiece at Carnegie Hall, along with Beethoven’s CALM SEA AND PROSPEROUS VOYAGE.

The Beethoven unfortunately went for naught this evening because the people seated behind us could not settle themselves during the marvelous hush of the work’s opening section; they continued to squirm and whisper throughout the 8-minute duration of the piece. Fortunately we were able to move further down our row to a quieter place for the Symphony.

A SEA SYMPHONY, which premiered in 1910 (on Vaughan
Williams’ 38th birthday; and he conducted the premiere himself),
established the composer as a legitimate successor to Edward Elgar in
the pantheon of British musical giants.

There are four movements:

I. A Song for All Seas, All Ships – Moderato maestoso
II. On the Beach at Night, Alone – Largo sostenuto
III. Scherzo: The Waves – Allegro brillante
IV. The Explorers – Grave e molto adagio – Andante con moto

In A Sea Symphony, Vaughan Williams evokes the days when Britain ruled the waves and her Empire spanned the planet. It is a sweepingly heroic pæan to the world’s oceans and sailors, the Walt Whitman texts summoning up visions of billowing sails and flags flying aloft: …”of dashing spray
and the winds piping and blowing”.

Tonight’s performance unfurled splendidly under David Hayes’ baton; the shining qualities of the Vaughan Williams score emerged through the finely-textured playing of the musicians and the rich harmonies of the choral writing. Chorus and orchestra have the symphony’s Scherzo all to themselves and delivered optimum music-making in this evocative passage.

Actress Kathleen Turner, with her signature huskiness of voice, read the Whitman poems before each of the symphony’s four movements. Clad all in black and taking on a professorial aspect as she donned her eyeglasses, she was a lecturer whose stance and gestures took on a seasoned and theatrical expansiveness as the evening progressed.

The raven-haired soprano Jennifer Forni appropriately chose a very pretty aquamarine gown for tonight’s concert; the singer, who recently debuted at The Met as the First Esquire in the new production of PARSIFAL, displayed an unusually rich quality in her lyric-soprano voice. She sang with clarity, warmth and an attractive upper register. Undoubtedly she’ll be asked for spinto roles thanks to the unexpected and appealing density of her timbre; I hope wisdom will prevail and that she will move carefully into the repertory, assuring herself of a sustained career. The soprano’s singing was well-matched by the baritone Jordan Shanahan; his performance managed to tread a fine line between boyish eagerness and a more mature sense of vocal dignity. His poetic rendering of “On the beach at night, alone” was a highlight of the evening. Mr. Shanahan’s vocal power and clarity were in ample evidence, and when the two singers joined in unison during the symphony’s final movement, the combined effect of their voices was particularly pleasing.

Founded in 1958, the New York Choral Society have presented many of the masterworks in the choral genre, as well as offering eleven world premieres; and they have commissioned works by Paul
Alan Levi, Morton Gould, Stephen Paulus, and Robert De Cormier. I love these lines from the Society’s mission statement:

“Our passion is music.

Our belief is that choral music lifts the human spirit. It is a language that spans borders and cultures.

Our goal is inspiring and excellent performance.

Our great hope is that future generations will share our passion for choral singing.”

Dance-lovers who follow my blog will note with pleasure that the long listing of choral artists of the Society includes the name of the great ballerina Martine van Hamel. I’ll never forget a conversation I had with her one day when I was working at Tower; she was seeking some choral music on CD and explained to me that she’d been taking voice lessons and had joined the Society, pursuing a fresh aspect in her artistic career. I had to smile when I saw her name listed in the Playbill this evening, bringing back memories of that lovely encounter.

The concert’s participating artists were:

David Hayes, Music Director and Conductor

Kathleen Turner, speaker

Jennifer Forni, soprano
Jordan Shanahan, baritone

Chorus and orchestra of the Society

April 25, 2013
Oratorio Society: Britten’s WAR REQUIEM

Monday April 22nd, 2013 – The Oratorio Society of New York presented a performance of Benjamin Britten’s WAR REQUIEM at Carnegie Hall this evening.

One of the greatest and most meaningful choral works ever created, the WAR REQUIEM was commissioned for the re-dedication of Coventry Cathedral in 1962; the church had been almost totally destroyed by German bombs in 1940. Britten, a life-long pacifist, drew on the poetry of Wilfred Owen
– who had been killed in 1918 (one week before the Armistice ended the war) at the age of 25 while fighting in France
– as well as the texts of the Latin mass for the dead in setting his
masterpiece. Though deeply spiritual in atmosphere, Britten intended the
WAR REQUIEM to be a secular work.

The Oratorio Society, one of New York City’s oldest cultural treasures, traces its history back to 1873. Founded by Leopold Damrosch, the Society presented their first concert on December 3,
1873. One year later, on Christmas night, the Society began what has become an unbroken
tradition of annual performances of Handel’s Messiah. In 1891, the Oratorio Society participated in the opening concert of what is now Carnegie Hall.

The chorus and musicians of the Society under Kent Tritle’s baton tonight unfurled the sonic tapestry of Britten’s creation in a performance which greatly satisfied both the ear and the soul. In the composer’s structuring of the REQUIEM, the large chorus and orchestra – supporting a soprano soloist – sing the Latin texts of the mass while a chamber orchestra (led by David Rosenmeyer) accompanies the tenor and baritone soloists whose words come from the poetry of Wilfred Owen. From high up in a side balcony, the voices of children from the choir of Saint John The Divine (directed by Malcolm Merriweather) provide an angelic sound, accompanied by a small organ.

Britten’s score, richly textured, amazes in its rhythmic and instrumental variety. Marked by off-kilter harmonies and shifting tonalities, the music is grand and theatrical one moment and poignantly stark and personal the next. The juxtaposition of public mourning and private grief – and of the liturgical and poetic texts – give the REQUIEM its unique resonance.

Of the three vocal soloists, soprano Emalie Savoy (currently a Met Young Artist) revealed a sizeable lyric instrument with a blooming high register and a capacity to dominate the massed choral and orchestral forces. Tenor John Matthew Myers sang with a plaintive, clear and warm timbre while baritone Jesse Blumberg gave a wonderfully expressive rendering of the texts, his voice hauntingly coloured in his long final solo.

At the close of the piece, all the participants were warmly lauded by the audience.

“My subject is War, and the pity of War.
The Poetry is in the pity…
All a poet can do today is warn.” ~ Wilfred Owen

Now, nearly a century after the poet’s warning, mankind continues to use war as a means of settling religious and ideological differences. This evening’s concert fell on Earth Day, reminding us of the fragility of the planet on which we all live. Only by turning away from gods and politics – those great dividing forces – can we hope to find a path into a safe and meaningful future. Like the poet’s two soldiers from opposing armies who find themselves dying side by side in a ditch far from their homes as the REQUIEM draws to a close, we must learn to embrace our common humanity before it’s too late.

The evening’s participating artists will were:

Kent Tritle, conductor
David Rosenmeyer, chamber orchestra conductor
Emalie Savoy, soprano
John Matthew Myers, tenor
Jesse Blumberg, baritone
Choristers of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine,
Malcolm Merriweather, conductor
Chorus and Orchestra of the Society

April 22, 2013
Wagner in Spain

My beautiful soprano-friend Erika Wueschner is currently in Barcelona singing Freia in DAS RHEINGOLD at the Gran Teatre del Liceu. In this production photo Erika is with the Japanese mezzo-soprano Mihoko Fujimura, who is singing Fricka. More details here. Watch the finale of the opera here.

April 21, 2013
AIDA at the Teatro Colon 1968

This 1968 performance of AIDA from the Teatro Colon, Buenos Aires, cropped up on the Opera Depot website and thought the combination of Martina Arroyo (above) and Carlo Bergonzi as Aida and Radames would be exciting to hear, since they are two of my all-time favorite Verdi singers. Both are in prodigious voice, providing phrase after phrase of wonderfully generous vocalism. My thanks to Dmitry for making me a copy.

Martina Arroyo never made a commercial recording of AIDA, and Bergonzi’s Radames on the Decca label (with Tebaldi) was recorded in an unusual acoustic which even later tampering-with could not make really enjoyable. So it’s wonderful to have this live recording from the Colon in perfectly good sound and with both singers on impressive vocal form.

The Teatro Colon (above) is a vast house (1,000 standees may be accommodated), and over the years has been rated high acoustically by singers and listeners alike. On this evening in 1968, the crowd surely senses that they are hearing teriffic vocalism from Arrroyo and Bergonzi and they repay the singers with generous ovations throughout the performance.

Bruno Bartoletti is on the podium; over the years I have heard performances conducted by this man that seem ideal and others that are less inspiring. For this AIDA he sets a generally fast pace (the ballet segments are wickedly speedy – I would not want to have been dancing in this performance!) but he certainly gives his singers a lot of leeway, and they enjoy lingering on high notes and having the opportunity to sustain favorite phrases.

There are some off-notes and a few unhappy bits from the pit musicians, and one jarring passage in the Tomb Scene where Bartoletti inexplicably rushes ahead of Bergonzi who is in the middle of some raptly poetic music-making; it takes a few bars to get things back in sync.

Carlo Bergonzi (above) has always been my personal king of tenors; yes, I know all his flaws and yes, he went on singing too long after he should have stopped. But in his heyday he was just so thoroughly pleasing to listen to, his marvelous turns of phrase and beautifully sustained vocalism always make me feel…happy. The beauty of hearing the Italian language wrapped in Bergonzi’s plangently expressive sound has always given me particular joy; even now, if I’m feeling blue, I’ll reach for that first Decca recital disc and soon I’m transported out of myself and basking in the music that has kept me – both spiritually and psychologically – on an even keel all these years. His singing in this AIDA is simply marvelous to experience: the unstinting generosity of both voice and style, the many small touches of sustained notes and his lovely colourings of the words in a rich emotional palette. It’s Verdi tenor singing at its best.

Martina Arroyo is in glorious voice also, rich and even throughout the role’s vast range. If she does not employ the ravishing piano effects that some sopranos have in this music, we are amply compensated with the velvety splendour of Arroyo’s sound and her plush phrasing, as well as her dramatic awareness which never carries her to excess. In this grand performance, the great Martina rises to the high-C of ‘O patria mia’ – a note which has defeated many a soprano – with blessed assurance and sustains it with glorious ease. In the opera’s concluding Tomb Scene, she and Bergonzi trade passages of soul-pleasing Verdi vocalism, and together they sustain their final joint phrase seemingly beyond the realm of human possibility.

The Serbian mezzo-soprano Biserka Cvejic (above) is probably not on anyone’s list of top-ten mezzos; yet if she had been the Amneris in either of the last two AIDAs I heard at The Met, I would have been satisfied. It’s a crusty, Old-World sound with an ample and pleasing chest register and higher notes sometimes approached from below. Cvejic has the role well in hand and if her singing doesn’t rise to the level of the soprano and tenor, neither does she let down her side of the triangle.

Cornell MacNeil is a powerful, dramatic Amonasro and I was surprised to find Nicola Rossi-Lemeni listed as Ramfis: this basso – a famous stage-creature of the 1950s – is surely nearing the end of his singing career by 1968. If not vocally prime, he surprises with some very robust moments (‘Immenso Ptah!’) and makes an authoritative impression.

March 26, 2013
At Home With Wagner II

More Wagnerian treats have come my way, thanks to Opera Depot and to Dmitry’s generosity in making me copies. I have a ‘new’ (to me) TANNHAUSER, and an Act I of WALKURE, and a complete GOTTERDAMMERUNG to enjoy on these long Winter afternoons.

I played the WALKURE Act I first; it comes (as does the GOTTERDAMMERUNG) from a 1959 Covent Garden RING Cycle conducted by Franz Konwitschny (above). This Cycle does not seem to be readily available in the USA, but it was on special offer at Opera Depot so Dmitry snatched it up since one can never have too many RING Cycles.

Konwitschny opens with a superbly-paced prelude; it’s slightly on the fast side but gives an uncanny feeling of relentless pursuit: Siegmund is the prey and little does he know that he’ll find shelter in the very home of his pursuer. Ramon Vinay, who sang Siegmund in the 1953 Keilberth RING from Bayreuth, sounds more baritonal here – six years later – and tends he to be a bit more declamatory in his approach. Amy Shuard, who was to be Brunnhilde for Solti at Covent Garden in 1965 seems to me better suited to Sieglinde. She has a nice feeling of womanly lyricism in her voice and is especially moving in the passage where she asks Siegmud to stay with her and await Hunding’s return. Later, Shuard scores again with a wonderfully pensive quality at “O still, lass mich der Stimme lauschen!”. She has a few passing moments of flatness in the middle register, and Vinay is taxed by his final “…Walsungen Blut!” But overall they are quite exciting, and Kurt Boehme is a strong. dark-hued Hunding. Some random off-notes from the orchestra; the sound quality is quite good overall.

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Taking a break from the RING, I moved to the 1965 Bayreuth TANNHAUSER. Andre Cluytens gives a well-paced reading of the score, and the sound quality of the recording is more than acceptable. Wolfgang Windgassen, then 50-years-old, takes on the arduous title-role; as he begins to sing there is a sense of strain, but he somehow manages to get the voice in gear and though there are moments when he seems tested, his knowledge of the role and of his instrument manage to sustain him through the first two acts. The strenuous demands of the Rome Narrative sometimes cause the tenor to sound as if he’s at the outer edge of his vocal possibilities, and although he steers thru the music without disaster it’s not pleasant to listen to. The fact that Tannhauser is exhausted and on the brink of madness can serve to cover some of the moments of vocal peril, but in the end it’s not something to listen to more than once.

Leonie Rysanek sings with her usual intensity and command of the upper range, and she uses a broad dynamic palette quite impressively. There are moments when she sounds unstable, notably in the Act III prayer which is taken quite slowly. In 1964, the soprano had had something of a vocal crisis which affected her performances in OTELLO and DON CARLO at The Met. At the end of the 1964-65 season she was gone from the Met for nearly a year (including the very Summer of this Bayreuth TANNHAUSER) and when she returned to New York City she seems to have given up nearly all of her Italian roles (aside from Tosca – though she later took on Medea, Gioconda and Santuzza, but not at The Met). She continued to sing Elisabeth in TANNHAUSER for twenty more years, including a stunning performance in San Francisco in 1973, and an impressive Met broadcast in 1982. This Bayreuth ’65 Elisabeth is perhaps not her finest rendering of the role, but it’s pretty exciting nonetheless.

Ludmila Dvorakova’s huge, over-ripe sound amply fills the role of Venus though her singing will not be to all tastes, and basso Gerd Neinstedt makes a strong impression as Biterolf in the scene of the song contest.

What makes the performance worthwhile are the performances of Martti Talvela (above) as the Landgraf Hermann and Hermann Prey as Wolfram. Talvela is on spectacular form, his commanding voice – marked by just a trace of the vocal ‘whine’ that was something of trademark – is thrilling to hear he welcomes the guests to the Watrburg and sets forth the framework of the contest. It was such a pleasure to hear this voice again.

Hermann Prey (above) as the steadfast Wolfram, who gallantly sets aside his own feelings for Elisabeth in view of her clear preference for Tannhauser, sings with lovely lyricism and expressiveness; a couple of the lowest notes of the Evening Star are a bit of a downward stretch for him, but for tenderness and poetic resonance his is a peerless incarnation of the role. Both Talvela and Prey have voices instantly recognizable, and their contributions to this performance are superb.

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Back to the ’59 Konwitschny Covent Garden RING Cycle for GOTTERDAMMERUNG in which the first voice we hear is that of Marjorie Thomas (above) as the First Norn. I had not been aware of this singer previously, despite her substantial career, and she makes a wonderful impression in thei opening scene of the RING‘s final opera – a scene I greatly enjoy both for its atmosphere and the vocal opportunities afforded the three singers. Her sister-Norns are Monica Sinclair – a mezzo who later joined Joan Sutherland’s touring Company and whose prodigious breath control makes her an unusually interesting Bradamante on the Sutherland recording of ALCINA – and soprano Amy Shaurd, who doubles as Gutrune here and later went on to sing the Brunnhildes.

Wagner legends Astrid Varnay and Wokfgand Windgassen pour their hearts out in the prologue duet. Varnay is a soprano I sometimes find oddly matronly and overblown but here she is in very fine voice, moving from strength to strength as the opera progresses. I hear some similarities between her voice and that of Regina Resnik; does anyone else? Windgassen is unfortunately not at his best in this performance. His voice is unsettled, his phrasing wayward. In this repertoire one has to allow for off-days; it”s just too bad this was a performance being preserved for posterity. Hermann Uhde (Gunter) and Gottlob Frick (Hagen) are simply magnificent, and Shuard is an ample-toned Gutrune, sometimes a shade off pitch.

Ursula Boese (above, with composer Igor Stravinsky) is a rich-toned Waltraute, sometimes putting me in mind of Rita Gorr. Ms. Boese’s voice sometimes takes a moment to tonalize on a given note, giving a slight feeling of pitchiness, but overall she is impressive in her long scene with Varnay.

As Act II begins, the Czech-born baritone Otakar Kraus (above, great photo as Alberich) sings the role of the dwarf who appears to his son Hagen in a dream, singing with mysterious, haunted tone. This sets the stage for one of the most thrilling readings of the cataclysmic events of this singular Wagnerian act that I have heard. If only Mr. Windgassen had been on peak form on this day, we’d have been left with a veritable masterpiece. The tenor does sing powefully and doesn’t shrink for the demands, but moments of strain and rhythmical variances detract a bit from the overall sweep of the act.

Astrid Varnay (above) is simply thrilling in this demanding music; her voice – not so much the timbre but the way she sings – continues to remind me a bit of Resnik. The top is earth-shattering and her expressively dramatic vocal thunderbolts are astounding in their bright, steady power. Along with her 1953 ELEKTRA this is my favorite Varnay recording I’ve heard to date. Gottob Frick is imperterbably sinister and grand as Hagen, and if the notion that Gunther’s undoing could be described as heartbreaking, you hear it magnificently here in Hermann Uhde’s uncanny vocal portrayal.

I’ll confess to skipping over some of the final act, since Windgassen is so out-of-sorts. The Rhinemaidens – led by the girlish-sounding Joan Carlyle singing along with star-in-the-making Josephine Veasey and Marjorie Thomas, who fills out her evening by adding the third Rhinemaiden to her First Norn.

Varnay’s Immolation Scene begins triumphantly. The diva is in huge and secure voice, and her characteristic tendency to sometimes approach a high note from below doesn’t bother me, since she always gets where she’s going eventually. In her deeply felt and lyrical singing of “Wie Sonne lauter strahlt mir sein Licht…” Varnay wins my heart entirely. A bit later though there is a jarring parting of ways between singer and orchestra: Varnay seems absolutely in the right to my ears (not having a score to hand), but a few measures of musical mayhem ensue before things are set to rights. Thereafter traces of fatigue creep into the soprano’s vocalism, but by this time she’s delivered so much marvelous singing that we can’t help but be swept away in admration for her overall performance.

March 21, 2013
Score Desk for DON CARLO

Monday February 25th, 2013 – A powerful line-up of male principal singers drew me to this performance of Verdi’s DON CARLO at The Met. The women in the cast seemed less interesting by far; having seen the production before – and feeling no need to see it again – I took a score desk and settled in.

DON CARLO was for years my favorite opera, but then the German repertory began to edge out the Italian in my heart and soul. Now ARIADNE AUF NAXOS, ELEKTRA and DIE WALKURE are in a sort of three-way tie for the top spot. But I still love DON CARLO and always go when it is performed. I’m not crazy about the Fontainebleau scene, and I never watch the Auto da Fe since the sight of people burning other people alive for the greater glory of some fiendish imagined god (or rather, to maintain the power of the men who created him and sustained the myth thru blood and force over the centuries) is revolting.

Negative reviews of Loren Maazel’s conducting and of Barbara Frittoli’s singing as Elisabetta had me thinking in advance that this might be a partial CARLO for me. Added to the prospect of two Gelb-intermissions, and the fact that I was already feeling tired when I got there, it seemed that a very long evening was loooming ahead. But I found myself drawn in by the opera itself, and I always enjoy the experience of being in the House with the score in front of me. I stayed to the end and on the whole felt it was a very good evening, particularly thanks to the superb performances of Dmitry Hvorostovsky and Ferruccio Furlanetto as Posa and Philip II respectively.

To be sure, some of Maestro Maazel’s pacing was slow. To me his conducting registered a measured sense of grandeur and dignity, and of events unfolding with a sort of epic inevitability. Often considered Verdi’s most purple opera – the colour of royalty evoked in sound – I felt Maazel’s concept worked well: there were lively passages along the way, and his Auto da Fe scene was amply majestic and well-structured. For the most part he kept his singers at the forefront; in a few places they needed all their reserves of breath to sustain the line thru the slow tempi. But, following the score, I thought the conductor had things well in hand.

Maazel experienced some boos at his solo bow; I wonder if it was pre-meditated since it seemed to be coming from one area of the Family Circle. Recently while my friend Dmitry and I were having a pre-PARSIFAL supper, I could overhear a woman in the next booth telling her companion that she was planning to boo conductor Daniele Gatti. If she did, it got lost in the cheers. Maazel’s conducting was quirky but worked well to my ears; the only potentially boo-able performance was that of Ms. Frittoli but the audience tolerated her with polite applause.

I find the Fontainebleau scene a needless introduction to the evening. Verdi sanctioned its elimination for performances in Italy following the premiere in Paris where five-act operas were de rigeur. Some people say, “Oh, it gives the opera context!” Undoubtedly. But we lived without it for years, savoring the gloriouly dark horn theme which opens the four-act version and immeditely sets us in the mood for this opera about royalty and religion. Tonight, with Ms. Frittoli sounding very wary, the scene seemed even more expendable than ever. It makes for such a long night, even under the best of circumstances.

The soprano’s perilous performance serves as a reminder that a vocal career is short enough without quickening its demise by singing roles that are too heavy. Ms. Frittoli will be remembered in New York City for her exquisite singing as Desdemona in 1999; she was also a particularly fine Mimi, and as recently as 2005 she managed an impressive Fiordiligi by manipulating the dynamics to control the effects of a widening vibrato. But singing things like the Verdi REQUIEM and Donna Anna have taken their toll on her lyric instrument. Tonight the vibrato was painfully evident even at the piano level. She managed to avert disasters, though a high B-flat in the quartet was scary and she could not sustain the floated B-natural in the final duet, on “…il sospirato ben”, one of the role’s most affecting moments. Overall it was sad to experience this voice in its current state. The news that she’ll be singing Tosca later this year in Europe does not bode well.

These performances of Elisabetta were originallly slated for Sondra Radvanovsky; when Sondra moved to BALLO instead, the Met turned to Ms. Frittoli. They should have cast about for a more appropriate alternative. When I think of the wonderful Elisabettas I have experienced – Caballe, Kabaivanska, Freni, and Radvanovsky as well as Marina Mescheriakova’s flawless Met debut in the role – Ms. Frittoli’s pales into a haze.

Anna Smirnova’s voice does not always fall pleasantly on the ear, being rather metallic. But she is a skilled singer who managed the filagree of the Veil Song very well and pulled out all the stops for an exciting “O don fatale” with brazenly sustained high notes.

Don Carlo is a bit heavy for Ramon Vargas but this very likeable tenor sang quite beautifully through most of the evening. His voice is clear and plaintive, his singing stylish and persuasive. Only near the end of the opera did a few signs of tiredness manifest themselves. His delicious singing of “Qual voce a me del ciel scende a parlar d’amore?” in the love duet was a high point of the evening.

Eric Halvarson’s Inquisitor was powerully sung and stood up convincingy against the overwhelming Philip II of Ferruccio Furlanetto. The two bassos had a field day, trading thunderbolts in their great confrontation. Basso Miklos Sebestyen was a very impressive Friar (the Ghost of Charles V), drawing a round of applause fo his sustained low F-sharp in the St. Juste scene of Act I. Jennifer Holloway was a very fine Tebaldo but Lori Guilbeau, who has a pretty sound, seemed not to be well-coordinated with the pit as she sang her offstage lines as the Celestial Voice.

The towering magnificence of Dmitry Hvorostovsky‘s Posa and Ferruccio Furlanetto‘s Philip II put the performance on a level with the greatest Verdi experiences of my opera-going years. Dima’s singing was velvety and suave, his breath-control mind-boggling, his singing affecting, elegant and passionate by turns. His high notes were finely managed and marvelously sustained.

Mr. Furlanetto’s glorious singing is a throwback to the days when great Italian voices in every category rang thru the opera houses of the world. Now nearing his fortieth year of delivering generous, glorious vocalism, the basso’s dark and brooding tones fill The Met with a special sonic thrill. His singing, so rich and deeply-felt, can thunder forth at one moment and then draw us in with hushed, anguished introspection the next. From first note to last, Furlanetto’s Philip II was simply stunning. His hauntingly tender musing on the phrase “No…she never loved me…her heart was never mine…” just before the epic climax of his great monolog moved me to tears.

There were huge eruptions of applause and cheers after both the baritone and the basso finished their big arias; but applause nowadays tends to dwindle rather quickly and the days of show-stopping aria ovations are largely a thing of the past.

There were lots of empty seats which surprised me: with this starry assembly of male singers and the season’s biggest name from the conducting roster involved, I expected a fuller house.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky

Ferruccio Furlanetto

Metropolitan Opera House February 25, 2013
DON CARLO Giuseppe Verdi Don Carlo...............Ramón Vargas Elizabeth of Valois.....Barbara Frittoli Rodrigo.................Dmitri Hvorostovsky Princess Eboli..........Anna Smirnova Philip II...............Ferruccio Furlanetto Grand Inquisitor........Eric Halfvarson Priest Inquisitor.......Maxime de Toledo Celestial Voice.........Lori Guilbeau Friar...................Miklós Sebestyén Tebaldo................ Jennifer Holloway Count of Lerma..........Eduardo Valdes Countess of Aremberg....Anna Dyas Flemish Deputy..........Alexey Lavrov Flemish Deputy..........Paul Corona Flemish Deputy..........Eric Jordan Flemish Deputy..........Evan Hughes Flemish Deputy..........Joshua Benaim Flemish Deputy......... David Crawford
Conductor...............Lorin Maazel

February 25, 2013
NYCB Tchaikovsky Festival 2013 #6

Saturday evening January 26, 2013 – This evening’s performance at New York City Ballet was filled with wonderful dancing (and playing from the pit) and went a long way to compensate for the previous evening’s late-seating debacle.

The programme was the same as the night before, but what a difference! Tonight we were able to fullly enjoy the delicate mysteries of BAISER DE LA FEE, led by Andrews Sill. I have a special fondness for this ballet since it was the first work I ever saw at NYCB lo! these many decades ago. My ‘premiere’ cast featured Patricia McBride and Helgi Tomasson and it is pleasing to report that Megan Fairchild and Andrew Veyette made just as fine an effect in the ballet as ther illustrious predecessors. Megan and Andrew caught the quality of rhapsodic youthfulness right from the start, abetted by the very nice dancing of the corps ensemble. Andrew’s solo had a dreamy feeling, but it’s one of those restless dreams (we’ve all had them) where you are seeking something that seems to elude you; his dancing was so expressive, making me want to see him as Jerome Robbins’ Dreamer in OPUS 19. Megan’s solo, set to the birdlike song of the flutes, was fetchingly spun off by the ballerina. The couple then brought a lovely feeling of quiet ecstacy to the magical backing-away which brings this Balanchine jewel to a close. Erica Pereira and Mary Elizabeth Sell led the corps to charming effect.

Tiler Peck and Joaquin de Luz then went to town, pulling out all the stops for an exciting Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux in which Tiler scintillated with her magical pirouettes whilst also capturing the warm lyricism of the adagio. Joaquin fills the stage and the theatre with his generous dancing and genial smile; if there’s a dancer with a bigger heart than Joaquin de Luz I haven’t met him. The two dancers swept thru the bravura fireworks of the coda to the audience’s delight, and if the fish dives took on a risky quality tonight, that’s part of the fun. They swept off as the curtain fell, igniting a full-house ovation which made them smile all the more as they stepped out to take their bows.

Now being in a really good mood, I even decided to give BAL DE COUTURE another try and strangely enough I liked a lot of it tonight, or maybe I should say that I saw where it might – with a few alterations – become something to enjoy. The music’s wonderful for one thing, but my first change would be getting rid of the women’s bizarre, fanciful costumes. And since the costumes are the whole point of the piece my other ‘fixes’ wouldn’t matter. It’s nice to see all that star-power onstage even though – as a friend pointed out – turning principals into a corps tends to make them anonymous. Despite its drawbacks, I found I could sit thru it, and could again – if the need ever arises.

In the concluding DIAMONDS, Maria Kowroski and Tyler Angle were elegant, and they seemed to filter the melodies of the score directly into their dancing. Maria’s magical way of sculpting her long limbs into the regal poses of the adagio was finely echoed in Tyler’s handsome and ardent partnering. There’s a lovely simpatico quality between these two dancers and it was shining brightly tonight. The demi-solistes and corps filled the stage with Mr. B’s grand patterns in the finale; the audience loved it.

Andrews Sill conducted the first two ballets tonight, then passed the baton to Daniel Capps for the rest of the evening. The NYCB musicians played the entire programme very appealingly and they well-deserved the audience’s warm cheers as they took a spot-lit collective bow at the end. The players were recently chided in the press for playing too many wrong notes. Yes, musicians – even the finest ones – do sometimes hit wrong notes, especially the wind players. Anyone who has ever played a musical instrument knows that the best intentions and plenty of rehearsal can still be undone by fatigue or plain old bad luck. It’s nothing to write home about since it tends to happen randomly, even among the excellent players of at the NY Phil or the Metropolitan Opera (where the orchestra is considered one of the best ‘pit bands’ in the world). For myself, having played piano, guitar and French horn, I always have a sympathetic ear and am grateful when things go as well as they do on a given night. The NYCB musicians work hard and it’s nice when the audience acknowledges their nightly contributions to the success of the ballet.

Heading home on the A train, I met the three people who’d been sitting behind
me at the performance. Students at Columbia, they drew out a season brochure and began asking me questions about what they should see next. “Who was that woman with the long legs in the last ballet?” the girl asked. “She was awesome!” I could only agree.

DIVERTIMENTO FROM ‘LE BAISER DE LA FÉE’: M. Fairchild, Veyette, Pereira, Sell

TCHAIKOVSKY PAS DE DEUX: T. Peck, De Luz

BAL DE COUTURE: Lowery, Reichlen, Krohn, Scheller, Hyltin, A. Stafford, T. Peck, M. Fairchild, Bouder, Taylor, J. Angle, la Cour, Danchig-Waring), Veyette, R. Fairchild, Ramasar, Finlay, De Luz, Carmena, Marcovici

DIAMONDS from JEWELS: Kowroski, T. Angle

January 26, 2013
Score Desk for LES TROYENS

Cassandra:

“Malheureux roi! dans l’éternelle nuit,
C’en est donc fait, tu vas descendre!
Tu ne m’écoutes pas,
tu ne veux rien comprendre,
Malheureux peuple,
à l’horreur qui me suit!”

Saturday December 29, 2012 – The dilemma of whether or not to attend a performance of Berlioz’s LES TROYENS at the Met concerned me for a few days. This epic masterwork is one of the greatest operas ever written, unique in its structure (it is actually almost like two distinct operas; each could stand on its own), and it is a veritable goldmine of musical marvels. On a personal note, the opera plays a stellar role in my autobiography, since it was after a magnificent 1973 matinee performance of the Berlioz work that I had my long-awaited first homosexual experience. Normally it would be on my highest-priority list of operas to see in any Met season where it’s presented. But the combination of a production that has never really satisfied me visually, a conductor who has seldom – if ever – moved me, and the disastrous casting of two of the opera’s principal roles, I at first wrote it off completely.

But then the thought that I might never again have an opportunity to hear LES TROYENS in-house decided me in favor of going; not needing to see the production, I bought a score desk and waited for the day with a mixture of excitement and dread. A few days before the performance, one of the singers whose participation was troubling me – Marcelo Giordani – was announced as ‘withdrawing’ from the remainder of the run after a reportedly awful night at the prima folllowed by vocal struggles in the ensuing performances. His announced replacement, Bryan Hymel, has been making a name for himself of late in some of opera’s most demanding roles.

I arrived at the theatre to find another last-minute cast change: Elizabeth Bishop (above) was to sing Dido instead of Susan Graham. This was my second experience of hearing Ms. Bishop in a performance originally scheduled for Graham, and though I’d been looking forward to Graham’s Dido, Bishop was perfectly fine. So I settled in with my lovely old scores (one for each ”opera’), wishing for a different maestro and different Cassandra, but very much anticipating both the music and the singing of the other cast members.

The opera opened impressively with the lively chorus depicting the joy of the Trojan people who have discovered that the Greeks, who have besieged their city for a decade, have suddenly and inexplicably departed. Sadly, the afternoon then took a real slump as Deborah Voigt began Cassandra’s great opening monolog. Voigt’s voice has declined even further than from my last encounter with her in the theatre, and her singing of this iconic role was pallid; the voice is almost unrecognizable as the soprano who once thrilled me with her Ariadne and Elsa. Unsteady and small of scale, her singing seemed apologetic for the most part, with only very few notes that bore any relation to what she once sounded like. Her final high-B in the duet with Chorebus was desperate and unpleasant, and she simply lacked the expressive dramatic thrust for the great scene in which Cassandra tries to prevent the populace from bringing the giant horse within the city walls. And she was ineffectual in the opera’s great final scene. The role calls for forceful declamation and sweeping emotional conviction: a larger-than-life feel. That Voigt could not come within hailing distance of such great interpreters of the role as Shirley Verrett and Jessye Norman was indeed sad. Her shortcomings prevented the first half of the afternoon from making its usual vivid impression.

In 1994 Dwayne Croft replaced Thomas Hampson as Chorebus on a Saturday matinee broadcast of TROYENS; he sang superby that day and seemed in fine voice this afternoon until suddenly, near the end of the big duet with Cassandra, his voice seemed to go hoarse. Bryan Hymel made an impressive entry as Aeneas, his singing both beautiful and urgent. In the great scene where Aeneas is warned by the Ghost of Hector of Troy’s impending doom, Hymel and David Crawford were both excellent.

In the haunting scene where the widowed Andromache brings her young son before the court, her injection of a stifled shriek was perhaps unnecessary in what is written as a silent role. But here Ms. Voigt as Cassandra did have one of her fine moments as she quietly intoned her warning to Andromache: “Save your tears, widow of Hector! Disasters yet to come will make you weep long and bitterly”.

Though lacking a commanding Cassandra to lead them, the scene of the mass suicide of the Trojan women managed to make a very strong impression. Thus far, as the first part of TROYENS came to a close, Fabio Luisi’s conducting had been ‘factual’, each musical “i” dotted and “t” crossed (as per the score) but lacking in mystery and mythic grandeur. His pacing was on the quick side, which is fine.

Moving to Carthage, Luisi and his players seemed to find a more congenial glow in the music. I must commend the conductor for making the ballet music (which could just as well have been cut) fully palatable; and from Iopas’ serenade thru the grand septet and on to the end of the sublime love duet, Luisi gave what was for me his finest music-making to date at the Met.

Elizabeth Bishop’s voice is not creamy and opulent but she’s a fine singer and not only did she save the day, she did so with distinction. Establishing herself in the opening public scene, it was in the more intimate settings that follow where Bishop made her finest mark: the ravishing duet with her sister Anna and then – impressing in both tonal allure and poetic nuances – from “Tout conspire a vaincre mes remords” straight thru to end end of the “Nuit d’ivresse”. In the anger of the fiery quayside duet, and in her later expressions of regret, and of futile fury, Bishop brought some touches of verismo passion which worked well for her. In the stately, resigned “Adieu fiere cite” she was at her most poignant, then rousing herself yet again vocally to bring the opera to a close with her visionary “Rome!…Rome!…immortelle!” As the afternoon progressed, Bishop dispelled the disappointment of not hearing Ms. Graham, and the audience greeted her affectionately at her curtain calls.

Above: Bryan Hymel. Mr. Hymel’s Aeneas was marvelous and his type of voice – a liquid and juicy ‘big-lyric’ with a blooming top – is very well-suited to the music. Wagnerian tenors like Jon Vickers, Gary Lakes and Ben Heppner have often been heard in this role (Vickers managed to make it very much his own), and Placido Domingo handled it impressively despite its being too high for him. But for me the best rendering of this arduous music in living memory has come from Nicolai Gedda on an abridged RAI concert recording. In vocal size and stylistic grace, Hymel comes close to the Gedda ideal. A trace of sharpness crept in here and there, but from his tender farewell to his son Ascagne right thru to his final “Italie!” as Aeneas’ ships cast off for to their destiny, Hymel sang beautifully and had the audience in the palm of his hand.

He and Ms. Bishop found the magical blend that makes the love duet one of opera’s most memorable, and in his great scena “Inutile regrets” with its remorseful “Quand viendra l’istante” and the high-lying concluding ‘cabaletta’, Hymel was glorious. His singing was full-toned and expressive, encompassing some lovely piano effects, and so moving with his heartfelt “A toi mon ame!”; the audience reacted with excited cheers as the tenor swept to the sensational climax of this great scene, then drew our further admiration as he led his soldiers aboard ship to take leave of Carthage.

There are two more tenor roles in LES TROYENS A CARTHAGE and both were ideally sung today. In Iopas’ wondrously evocative (and very exposed) “O blonde Ceres” Eric Cutler (above) gave the afternoon’s most fascinating vocalism, with lovely line and ravishingly heady piano effects, and a spine-tingling ascent to a gloriously lyrical high-C. Bravo!!!

Above: Paul Appleby. In the homesick song of the young sailor Hylas, Mr. Appleby’s beautifully plaintive timbre and the haunting colours he wove into the words made this another high point of the day.

Above: Karen Cargill. I had very much enjoyed Ms. Cargill’s Waltraute last season and was glad of a chance to hear her again as Anna. There’s a touch of Marilyn Horne in Cargill’s voice and she sang her two big duets (one with Dido, the second with Narbal) most appealingly.

Kwangchul Youn’s voice is warm and sizeable; his tone seems to have taken on a steady beat now though he handled it quite well. His Narbal was pleasing, and he was also cast as Mercury, his voice bringing an ominous feel as he intones “Italie! Italie!” after the great love duet, reminding Aeneas of his duty and sealing Dido’s fate.

Richard Benstein was a strong-toned and authoritative Panthus and I very much liked hearing old-stagers Julien Robbins (Priam) and James Courtney (2nd Soldier) again. Julie Boulianne was a fine Ascagne, Theodora Hanslowe was Hecuba, and Paul Corona shared the soldiers’ scene with Mr. Courtney.

I so enjoyed experiencing this masterwork in-house again; it may not have been a perfect performance, but it certainly made for a very satisfying afternoon. So nice to see my friend Susan there, and – being n a good mood – I even chatted with some people around me: totally out of character. Very much looking forward to my next ‘score desk’ operas: DON CARLO and TRAVIATA (who needs to look at a clock and a sofa?), and then all the RING operas in the Spring. It’s the place to be!

Metropolitan Opera House December 29, 2012 Matinee
LES TROYENS Berlioz Part I: La prise de Troie Cassandra...............Deborah Voigt Coroebus................Dwayne Croft Aeneas..................Bryan Hymel Ascanius................Julie Boulianne Priam...................Julien Robbins Hecuba..................Theodora Hanslowe Helenus.................Eduardo Valdes Andromache..............Jacqueline Antaramian Astyanax................Connell C. Rapavy Panthus.................Richard Bernstein Hector's Ghost..........David Crawford Part II: Les Troyens à Carthage Dido....................Elizabeth Bishop Anna....................Karen Cargill Narbal..................Kwangchul Youn Iopas...................Eric Cutler Ascanius................Julie Boulianne Panthus.................Richard Bernstein Aeneas..................Bryan Hymel Mercury.................Kwangchul Youn Hylas...................Paul Appleby Trojan Soldier..........Paul Corona Trojan Soldier..........James Courtney Priam's Ghost...........Julien Robbins Coroebus's Ghost........Dwayne Croft Cassandra's Ghost.......Deborah Voigt Hector's Ghost..........David Crawford
Laocoön.................Alex Springer Royal Hunt Couple.......Julia Burrer, Andrew Robinson Dido's Court Duet.......Christine McMillan, Eric Otto

Conductor: Fabio Luisi

December 29, 2012
At Home With Wagner

Thanks to my friend Dmitry, I’ve added some exciting Wagner performances to my CD collection over the past few weeks: parts of two historic RING Cycles, a 1976 Met broadcast of LOHENGRIN conducted by James Levine (I was there!), and a surprisingly thrilling Act I of WALKURE from Hamburg 2008, conducted by Simone Young.

Chronologically the earliest of these acquisitions – the WALKURE, third Act of SIEGFRIED, and GOTTERDAMMERUNG – come (in surprisingly good sound) from the 1953 Bayreuth Festival. These are conducted by Josef Keilberth (above) who shared the RING podium duties with Clemens Krauss at the ’53 festival. The Krauss Cycle has been isssued commercially and is considered legendary; Keilberth’s 1955 Cycle is also available (from Testament) but this ’53 Keilberth seems a real rarity, at least here in the USA (I’ve seen import copies selling for $300+, while Dmitry and I found it at Opera Depot for considerably less).

Dmitry gave me the GOTTERDAMMERUNG first and it’s a tremendous performance; this prompted me to ask for more and I’m really pleased with what I’m hearing. Keilberth is grand but never ponderous; his Twilight of the Gods unfurls like a magnificent sonic banner. The maestro has a powerhouse cast to work with.

I’ve never ‘gotten’ Martha Modl (above) until very recently, but she’s teriffic here as Brunnhilde. Her voice production reminds me somewhat of Irene Dalis’s. Modl’s flaming intensity and the colour and vitality of her singing are something to hear. Wolfgang Windgassen meets the huge demands of Siegfried with tireless power and is a good match for the soprano in terms of vocal generosity. A splendid Hagen from the Josef Greindl bristles with black-hearted malevolence, and in the most thrilling rendering of the role of Gunther that I’ve ever experienced, Hermann Uhde is overwhelming. With her rather odd tmbre, Natalie Hinsch-Grondahl nevertheless makes a mark as Gutrune. Ira Malaniuk’s superb singing as Waltraute makes me wish her long scene was even longer, and the mezzo is also a distinguished Second Norn in the prologue where she is joined by Maria von Ilosvay and then-soprano Regina Resnik.

Back-tracking, I then took up the WALKURE from the same 1953 Keilberth RING and was again impressed by the immediacy of the sound. Herr Greindl (above) is again in cavernous voice, this time as Hunding. Regina Resnik and Ramon Vinay are the strong-voiced Walsung twins, though neither attain the heights that others have in this passionate music. The tenor’s baritonal sound is sturdy but not particularly poetic and at one point the prompter gets involved, feeding him lines word for word. Miss Resnik gets lost at one point and her highest notes show a very slight sense of discomfort; her decision to switch to mezzo was a brilliant move and sustained her career for many years. In spite of these minor misgivings, Resnik and Vinay keep the temperature of the drama high, and Keilberth steers us thru the first act with true surety of hand.

Hans Hotter (above) opens the second act grandly, and this performance shows why his Wotan was considered a revelation. Both in terms of godlike vocal heft and wonderfully nuanced shaping of the text, Hotter’s monolog is a masterpiece. Martha Modl flashes thru a spirited Ho-Jo-To-Ho though surprisingly later in the act, after the annunciation of death, she seems to tire a bit as she assures Siegmund she’ll protect him in the coming battle. Ira Malaniuk is a particularly fine Fricka; she doesn’t wheedle or whine but deals from the strength of her rightness. She is vocally so pleasing to experience, the registers even and the timbre filled with feminine dignity. Resnik and Vinay are effective here as the desperate lovers, seeking escape…waching over his sleeping sister-bride, Vinay finds the tenderness of the character. Resnik lets out a blood-curdling scream when Hunding strikes Siegmund dead. Hotter’s contemptuously whispered dismissal of Hunding followed by his towering rage as he sets out to punish Brunnhilde end the act with a veritable bang.

In the Ride of the Valkyries, the sopranos swoop upward at will, not always in unison. Resnik handles the great scene of Sieglinde’s blessing of Brunnhilde quite exctingly; Hotter storms in and rages at his daughters who finally flee in terror. And then, starting with Brunnhilde’s ‘War es so schmalich’ the performance becomes something else altogether.

Modl finds the magic that made her GOTTERDAMMERUNG so spell-binding, and Hotter is simply magnificent. The sound quality is pretty remarkable and the two singers give a performance that ranks wth my greatest experiences in 50+ years of listening to opera. Modl begins Brunnhilde’s self-defense with colours of deep despair, slowly gaining self-confidence. When she courageously tells her father that Sieglinde now keeps the sword Nothung, Hotter thunderoulsy reminds her “The sword that I shattered!!” Hotter outlines the punishment Brunnhilde will face; her pleading with him not to humiliate her is in vain. But Modl’s last desperate and gloriously sung passage finally wins the day; Hotter opens the floodgates and hs entire final scene is both vocally thrilling and wrenchingly expressive of a father’s longing and grief. Adjectives become superfluous on hearing this kind of vocalism.

The third act of SIEGFRIED from this cycle is very exciting, commencing with Hotter’s majestic summons of Erda. As the act proceeds, it seems the great bass-baritone’s voice was recorded in a rather odd, somewhat echo-chamber acoustic. It doesn’t deter from his performance in the least, but it’s not quite as pleasing to listen to as the WALKURE. Maria von Ilosvay is a firm-toned and not overly weighty Erda; like her colleague Ira Malaniuk, Ilosvay seems largely to have been forgotten these days, which is a shame, It’s a wonderful voice. Windgassen arrives for his confrontation with his grandfather in fine vocal fettle; the two long-standing colleagues play up the dark humour of their banter at first, but after Siegfried puts Wotan in his place by breaking the spear, the once-powerful god slinks away in shame. Windgassen manages to hold his own against the fresh-voiced Modl, awakening as Brunnhilde and singing with remarkable intensity: despite her successful but less-than-blooming forays to the high-Cs, Modl’s voice is both maternal and seductive, with an unsettlling sexual sorcery in her timbre that makes it utterly distinctive.

Overall this Keilberth cycle is fascinating in so many ways and seems to have caught the singers mostly at their peaks. I suppose I’ll want to eventually have the RHEINGOLD also.

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From London’s Royal Opera House comes a RING Cycle conducted by Sir Georg Solti (above), from which the WALKURE (in very good sound) makes a strong impression, notably in the radiant singing of Dame Gwyneth Jones as Sieglinde. Apart from Ernst Kozub as Siegmund, the principals are all from the Royal Opera “home team”. Mr. Kozub is bright-voiced and steady, and Dame Gwyneth – just coming into fame – is already showing signs of the great Wagnerienne she was to become. Michael Langdon’s powerful Hunding anchors the first act, excitingly led by Solti.

Amy Shuard is a bit uneven as Brunnhilde though overall she makes a positive impression; a bit of flatness here and there – most notable in the early pages of the Todesverkundigung – is offset by her bright Battle Cry and her moving singing of the opera’s final scene. Josephine Veasey starts off as a rather ladylike Fricka, but she soon works herself into a fine fettle of self-righteous indignation and casts off vivid dramatic sparks, her vocalism fervent and secure.

It is especially gratifying to hear David Ward (above) as Wotan. I still vividly recall hearing him as The Dutchman on a Met broadcast in 1965 opposite Leonie Rysanek. I love his Wotan here for its humanity. Ward is more a lyrical than a thunderous singer, and his bass-oriented sound give him a solid springboard thru the music. His monolog is intense and personal, with a miraculous reflective piano on “Das ende!” while his choked whisper of “Geh!” as he dispenses with Hunding at the close of Act II is breath-taking. Ms. Shuard is at her best as she joins Mr. Ward for the opera’s final scene: their exchanges have an intimate feel, dynamically subtle and with deep undercurrents of heartache. Pleading to be spared dishonor, Ms. Shuard’s feminine urgency spurs the bass-baritone on to a wonderful outpouring in “Leb wohl, du kunhes, herrliches Kind!”. Later, Mr. Ward’s great tenderness as he quietly kisses Brunnhilde’s godhood away is so moving. Sir Georg, on the podium, cuts a majestic path thru this glorious score.

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The 1976 series of LOHENGRINs at The Met marked Maestro Levine’s first experiences of conducting this opera in the House; he moulds the great arcs of music, from the ethereal to the thunderous, with grandeur; and his violins underline the great confrontation between Elsa and Ortrud with furiously driven playing.

Pilar Lorengar (above) was a rapt, visionary Elsa, and her silvery and utterly feminine sound projected clearly into the great hall, cresting the ensembles radiantly. Rene Kollo in his debut role as Lohengrin (he sang only one other role at The Met: Bacchus in ARIADNE AUF NAXOS) sounded splendid in the House (yes, I was there!) though the recording shows some chinks in the vocal armor which the unforgiving mikes pick up. Still, it’s an impressive rendering of the music, especially his poetic ‘In fernam land’. Mignon Dunn sings with thrilling passion as Ortrud, meeting all the demands of what is essentially a dramatc soprano role. In the house, Mignon was made a tremendous impact with her acting, especially her raging discomfort at having to carry Elsa’s train during the bridal procession. Unable to contain her bitter fury, she breaks free and lashes out at her virginal rival in a confrontation that brought the performance to the boiling point. Donald McIntyre’s powerful Telramund and Allan Monk’s sturdy Herald make strong impressions, and Bonaldo Giaiotti (a great favorite of mine, presently celebrating his 80th birthday) is a splendid-sounding King Henry.

Metropolitan Opera House December 4, 1976 Matinee Broadcast
LOHENGRIN Wagner

Lohengrin...............Rene Kollo Elsa....................Pilar Lorengar Ortrud..................Mignon Dunn Telramund...............Donald McIntyre King Heinrich...........Bonaldo Giaiotti Herald..................Allan Monk Gottfried...............Rex James Noble...................Robert Goodloe Noble...................Andrea Velis Noble...................Philip Booth Noble...................Charles Anthony
Conductor...............James Levine

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The single act of the Hamburg WALKURE literally knocked me for a loop on first hearing; I’d never given Simone Young (above) much thought as a conductor, but from now on I’ll need to. She makes this thrice-familiar music sound incredibly fresh and alive. Her trio of singers, while perhaps unlikely to go into the history books alongside such names as Lehmann, Melchior, Rysanek or Vickers, are superbly tuned into both the music and the words. Following Young’s lead, they seem to give a feeling of music that is newly-discovered. Yvonne Naef’s Fricka and Waltraute at The Met in 2009 RING Cycles (the last performances of he “Levine” RING) were especially memorable in my view. There was some talk of her possibly taking on the Brunnhildes at one point, but she was probably wise to resist (exciting as the prospect would have been). Here she is a vivid Sieglinde, her middle voice and parlando so persuasive – the role lies right in her comfort range – and her top rings out excitingly. The sound of Stuart Skelton’s voice may not be intrinsically beautiful, but he is a strong and verbally alert singer, bringing some imaginative colours to his music. His cries of “Walse! Walse!” are steady and sustained, and he shows a sense ofSiegmund’s poetic side, long-buried in the hardships the Volsung has faced in his life. Mikhail Petrenko is a more lyrical Hunding than we usually hear; he sings well and fits finely into Young’s vision of the act. There are many felicitous passages in the conductor’s scheme of things, with a particular ‘lift’ of the tempo after Sieglinde concludes “Der manner sippe” that really took my breath away.

After a lapse of ten days, I played this WALKURE Act I again just to be sure it was as good as I thought it was. It’s even better on second hearing, with some really fine playing from the individual instrumentalists. The singers and conductor make this very familiar music feel startlingly vivid. What more could we ask?

December 27, 2012
Ira Malaniuk

The contralto Ira Malaniuk (above) was an Austrian singer of Ukranian descent who had a major career in Europe from 1939 to 1976 yet is rarely mentioned today in discussions of great voices from the past. Yet surely she is one of their number.

Malaniuk appears on several commercial recordings, some of which I have heard, yet it is a 1953 live recording of GOTTERDAMMERUNG from the 1953 Bayreuth Festival in which she sings Waltraute that made me sit up and take notice of this wonderful singer.

Malaniuk came to international attention at the 1951 Bayreuth Festival when she stepped in at the last minute for an ailing colleague; here is the story:

“It was 1951. The Wagnerian Festival at Bayreuth, Germany was taking place for the first time since the end of World War II.

Herbert von Karajan was the conductor. The opera was Das Rheingold (The Rhine Gold), the first of the four operas that comprise Wagner’s Der Ring Des Nibelungen. A complete Ring Cycle peformance was planned for this innaugural post-war season.

Elisabeth Höngen, a mezzo-soprano, was scheduled to sing. She had
performed only a few days earlier. Suddenly on August 11, 1951, Höngen
came down with an acute case of appendicitis and was hospitalized.

That fateful day, Ira Malaniuk, a young mezzo-soprano, came into the
theatre not suspecting that she would be required to sing the part of
Fricka that night. According to her own autobiography, not only had
Malaniuk never sung the part, she hadn’t even heard it before.

And yet, with the assistance of the Bayreuth Festival staff,
colleagues, prompters and conductor Karajan, Ira Malaniuk went on stage
that night and sang. The critics raved. Bavarian Radio broadcast the
production.

And, Ira Malaniuk went on to become a famous opera singer – a Kammersängerin – in both Germany and Austria.”

Malaniuk had studied with the great basso Adamo Didur, and opera was always in her heart, as she relates in this charming story:

“I cannot say, where the beginnings of my love of opera were. Already in
childhood, they shone for me like a guiding star. Although, in all
truth, there was a female opera singer in our family, that reached world
wide fame – Salomea Kruszelnicka. She was the daughter of my paternal
grandmother’s brother, in short my father’s cousin. Our paths never
crossed – I never met Kruszelnicka, never saw her peform on stage, but
perhaps some drop of her artistic blood courses through my veins.”

Above, Ira Malaniuk with her soprano colleague, the radiant Lisa Della Casa.

Listen to Ira Malaniuk singing the Second Norn in this document from the Bayreuth Festival’s 1953 GOTTERDAMMERUNG. Her sister-Norns are Maria von Ilosvay and Regina Resnik (in her soprano days); Clemens Krauss conducts.

November 25, 2012