Category: Reviews

Danish String Quartet @ Zankel Hall
Wednesday October 26th, 2016 – The Danish String Quartet (above) in concert at Zankel Hall in a program pairing final masterworks by Shostakovich and Schubert, with cellist Torleif Thedéen joining the Quartet for the Schubert. It was an extraordinary evening of music-making, with the two vividly contrasted pieces superbly played.

The program opened with a performance of the last of Shostakovich’s fifteen quartets. Composed in 1974, it consists of six inter-connected movements and has the mood of a farewell to life; indeed, the composer died the following year, after a career periodically darkened by deep conflicts with the Soviet government. The ailing Shostakovich created a work of lyrically spare, bleak textures alternating with violent rhythmic gestures.

The atmosphere of the 15th quartet precludes note-taking; from its quiet opening passage played by the second violin, we are drawn into a unique sound-world of severe beauty and grim intensity. The Danish String Quartet’s playing of the opening movement – which the composer indicated should be performed so slowly that listeners would flee the hall out of boredom – took on an almost religious aspect: a sustained and intimate meditation.

The Quartet’s hallmark mastery of dynamics, the natural flow of the music from voice to voice, and their finely-balanced layering of sound, created an incredible atmosphere which was sustained throughout the 40-minute work. Moments of great delicacy stood in contrast to jagged slashings; an off-kilter waltz, sustained notes that spring out of nowhere, vibrant trills, a resonant viola cavatina, deep passion from the cello, an overall sense of desolation. Despite a few Playbill-flippers seated near me, the audience was held in a rapt state throughout the piece; the applause – deep and sincere, but not boisterous – signaled the impact the music and the musicians had made.

Feeling both drained and enriched by this monumental musical experience, I remained in my seat throughout the intermission, deep in thought.

Following the interval, the Schubert string quintet in C-major, with cellist Torleif Thedéen joining the ensemble. This quintet, written in 1828, was Schubert’s last extended piece of chamber music. It seems that the composer never heard this final masterwork performed; he died on October 2nd, 1828, and the quintet was not performed publicly until 1850.

One of the longest works in the chamber music repertory, Schubert’s C-major quintet sounds more like a celebration of life than a prelude to death. The composer was desperately ill while composing it, but the work has a feeling of optimism – as though he felt he might actually re-bound and compose for another 30 or 40 years. It was not to be, and – as with Mozart, Chopin, and Pergolesi – we are left to ponder what might have been.

The Danish String Quartet’s traversal of the Schubert was so persuasive both in tonal beauty and rhythmic inflection that the work sped by. The songful-to-stormy opening movement, with its return to tranquility in C-major, is followed by one of music’s most marvelous adagios, underscored by plucked lower notes. The players seemed to be having serious fun in the Scherzo, and then moved on to the gypsy-flavour of the finale.

At the close of the Schubert’s joy-filled final Allegretto, the Danes were given an enthusiastic ovation from the audience. The players responded with an encore: a lyrical, chorale-like quintet that was lovingly played.

The Participating Artists:

The Danish String Quartet:

~ Frederik Øland, Violin
~ Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen, Violin
~ Asbjørn Nørgaard, Viola
~ Fredrik Schøyen Sjölin, Cello

Torleif Thedéen, Cello

The Repertory:
- SHOSTAKOVICH String Quartet No. 15 in E-flat Minor, Op. 144
- SCHUBERT String Quintet in C Major, D. 956
October 26, 2016
Leonidas Kavakos: Double Duty @ The NY Philharmonic

Thursday October 20th, 2016 – Leonidas Kavakos (above) was both soloist and conductor for this evening’s program at The New York Philharmonic. Mr. Kavakos is the Philharmonic’s current Mary and James G. Wallach Artist-in-Residence, and in this capacity will blessedly be with us frequently in the current season. Tonight, the prodigiously talented violinist played Bach and then moved to the podium to conduct works by Busoni and Schumann.

With the mystique of a Tolkien wizard, Mr. Kavakos worked his magic in a brilliant rendering of J.S. Bach’s Violin Concerto in D minor (reconstructed), BWV 1052; surrounded by an ensemble of the orchestra’s elite string players, and with Paolo Bordignon at the harpsichord, he cast a spell over the hall with his playing. Following a sizzling cadenza midway thru the first movement, the violinist and his colleagues drew us in with the lamenting beauty of the adagio. An unfortunate cellphone intrusion in the very last moments of the movement was brushed aside as Mr. Kavakos sailed forward with stunning virtuoso playing in the allegro, where he summoned up visions of the legendary “mad fiddlers” who played as if possessed by demons.

The whole ensemble went merrily along on the soloist’s swift ride, and I must mention Timothy Cobb’s plush tone and amiable agility on bass. Shouts of ‘bravo‘ rang thru the hall as the concerto ended. Mr. Kavakos and Sheryl Staples, this evening’s concertmaster, clearly form a mutual-admiration-society; after bowing to the audience’s enthusiasm, the soloist signaled Ms. Staples to rise but instead she and all her colleagues remained seated, vigorously applauding Mr. Kavakos. When he finally got the players to stand, the applause re-doubled.

The Geffen Hall stage crew swiftly re-set the space for the next work: I had discovered Ferruccio Busoni’s Berceuse élégiaque earlier this season when the Curtis Symphony Orchestra performed it at Carnegie Hall, and was very glad of an opportunity to experience it again tonight.

This is music wrapped in a somber mystery. The composer wrote these lines as a brief ‘prologue’ to the piece:

“The child’s cradle rocks, the hazard of his fate reels; life’s path fades, fades away into the eternal distance.”

During the ten-minute course of this eerie lullaby, the music rises very slowly from the depths; the subtle interjections from the harp add a dreamlike quality, as does the celesta which joins the darkling ensemble near the end. As a chillingly marvelous finish, a gong sounds and its reverberations fade to nothingness.

The Philharmonic’s Playbills are always loaded with fascinating articles and information; I read them on the train trip homeward after the concerts. One passage in the notes on the Busoni struck a tragic note: Gustav Mahler conducted the Philharmonic premiere of the Berceuse élégiaque on February 21st, 2011. Suffering from heart disease, Mahler was forced to withdraw from a second performance of the work; he sailed back to Europe and died in Vienna in May. The February 21st Philharmonic concert thus marked the last time he ever conducted.

Robert Schumann’s Symphony No. 2 was the evening’s concluding work. Here my companion and I were at a loss: the music is absolutely lovely from start to finish, and it was conducted and played with both steadfastness and genuine affection by Mr. Kavakos and the artists of the Philharmonic. But somehow it is simply too much of a good thing. We were trying to figure out the reasons why this music, so congenial, seems to go in one ear and out the other; there’s no edge to it anywhere, and nothing that reaches the heart. Also, for me, part of the problem is all the tutti playing: there’s a shortage of those passages where solos might lure us in or smaller components of the orchestra might bedevil one another. Only in the adagio, where the oboe, clarinet and horns had chances to step forward, did my interest perk up. For the rest, the music simply washed over us to beautiful but unmemorable effect.

Clearly ours is a minority report: several people sitting around us were ‘conducting’ along, or swaying slightly, or tapping their feet. A lusty ovation was unleashed immediately after the final chord, and this was so well-merited by conductor and players.

October 20, 2016
The Met @ Lincoln Center: 50 Years On

September 16th, 2016 – Fifty years ago tonight, the Metropolitan Opera opened at their new home at Lincoln Center with the world premiere performance of Samuel Barber’s ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA starring Leontyne Price, Justino Diaz, and Jess Thomas, conducted by Thomas Schippers. The performance was broadcast live, and – needless to say – I was tuned in.

I remember listening in my little room in the big house in tiny Hannibal, New York, where I grew up. The possibility of a strike by the musicians of The Met’s orchestra had left the future of the season beyond this first night up in the air; but during the intermission, Rudolf Bing stepped out before the gold curtain to announce that the strike had been averted and new contracts signed. I – always so reticent – let out a whoop and raced downstairs, excitedly telling my parents the news; they thought I was deranged, but that was nothing new.

But I had a vested interest in the outcome of The Met’s contract negotiations, because in August I had made my first solo trip to New York City and I had tickets to several upcoming performances, including the final ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA of the run. So now my plans were a “go”, and I was soon making frequent pilgrimages to Lincoln Center and falling in love with the City where I would eventually live.

Read an article about my experience on the first ticket line for The Met at Lincoln Center here.

September 15, 2016
The Rhinemaidens

Soprano Heidi Krall (above) leads a distinctive trio of Rhinemaidens in this excerpt from a 1957 Met RHEINGOLD:

The Rhinemaidens ~ Das Rheingold – Heidi Krall – Rosalind Elias – Sandra Warfield – with Lawrence Davidson – Met bcast 1957 – Steidry cond

Ms. Krall sang nearly 300 performances with the Metropolitan Opera Company, both at the Old Met and on tour. While usually heard in roles like Frasquita or The Priestess in AIDA, she did sing several Musettas, as well as appearing as Micaela, Donna Elvira, Nedda, and the 1st Lady in ZAUBERFLOETE.

August 23, 2016
Maralin as Marguerite

Maralin Niska (above), the American soprano who passed away on July 9th, 2016, was one of a handful of singers whose performances could induce me to travel – first from Syracuse, NY, to see her in several roles at New York City Opera, and later from Hartford, CT – where TJ and I had settled in the mid-1970s – to Lincoln Center, where she was singing at both the State Theatre and The Met.

Once, she even came to Hartford to sing Violetta, replacing another soprano on short notice. We were so excited when we arrived at The Bushnell and saw the announcement of the cast change; we rushed to the stage door to leave her a message, and en route we found her, just thirty minutes before curtain time, banging desperately on what she thought was the stage door. She was so happy to see us, not least because we were able to lead her to the proper entrance.

Violetta, Mimi, Tosca, Butterfly, Nedda, Countess Almaviva…these were some of the roles from the standard repertoire in which Niska thrilled me. Her triumphs in such great dramatic vehicles as Cherubini’s Medea, Strauss’s Salome, and Janacek’s Emilia Marty were the stuff of operatic legend. In roles as diverse as Yaroslavna in PRINCE IGOR, the Composer in ARIADNE AUF NAXOS, Rosalinda in FLEDERMAUS, and Elisabetta I in MARIA STUARDA, she achieved miracles of characterization and of voice.

Yet for all that, is was – curiously enough – as Marguerite in FAUST that Maralin gave a (somewhat unexpectedly) sensational performance that has lingered so clearly in my mind over the ensuing years. In the unforgettable Frank Corsaro production – in which the devil wins – Maralin left the notion of Marguerite as a shrinking violet in the dust. Faust’s love for the girl signaled not only her romantic but also her sexual awakening.

In the Garden Scene, on the brink of having her, Faust backs off, causing Maralin/Marguerite to burst into frantic sobs of frustration; when he reappears after Marguerite’s ecstatic invocation, there’s no going back.

As the opera draws to its end, Faust comes to rescue Marguerite from prison, where she awaits execution for murdering her child. The demented girl imagines they are back in the garden; she ignores Faust’s pleas to come away. When Mephistopheles appears to urge theme to hurry, Marguerite sees him for what he is and turns to fervent prayer. Faust tries one last time to persuade her to flee, but she turns on him, crying: “Pourquoi ces mains rouge de sang? Va! … tu me fais horreur!” (“Why are your hands red with blood? Go!…you fill me with horror!”) No soprano has done that last line quite like Maralin.

Heavenly voices declare Marguerite’s salvation; she begins to climb a steep staircase, but at the top of it, double doors fly open, and instead of an angelic host she is greeted by a towering executioner, masked and carrying an monstrous axe. Faust rushes up the steps to try to save her, but the doors are slammed shut in his face. Mephistopheles steps out of the shadows, calling Faust’s name quietly, and waving the contract with which Faust had sold away his soul to the devil in Act I.

I’ve been able to preserve some excerpts from one of Maralin’s performances in this role at NYC Opera; the date was March 15, 1970, and her colleagues were Nicholas di Virgilio (Faust) and Norman Treigle (Mephistopheles). The original tapes are in a fragile state – I was lucky they played well enough to save them to MP3. The sound quality leaves much to be desired, but hearing these scenes brings back wonderful memories for me:

Niska – FAUST aria – NYCO 3

FAUST – Garden Scene exc – Niska – di Virgilio – Treigle – NYCO 3

Maralin Niska & Norman Treigle – scene from FAUST – NYCO 3~15~70

FAUST – finale – Niska – di Virgilio – Treigle – NYCO 3

Photographer Beth Bergman has created a beautiful memorial in photos to Maralin Niska on her website: visit the page here.

July 30, 2016
Fantastic Finckel

It’s during the months of High Summer that I find time to listen to music at home. The rest of the year is taken up with live music, and with writing (and reading!) about it. But on these long, hot August afternoons, I am in my cool cavern of a room with CDs playing.

I have a huge stack of music yet to be listened to – and even larger stacks of un-read books – but one disc that I’d been really looking to hearing was my focus yesterday: a recording by cellist David Finckel of Antonín Dvořák’s cello concerto, paired with Augusta Read Thomas’s 1999 work, Ritual Incantations, and featuring the Taipei Symphony Orchestra conducted by Felix Chiu-Sen Chen. The disc – on the Artist Led label – may be purchased here.

The familiar Dvořák is – needless to say – beautifully played, and the concerto sounded wonderfully fresh to me. It’s the Thomas that I am savouring now, being of a type of music that is particularly appealing to me. David Finckel premiered Ritual Incantations at Aspen in 1999.

In March 2015, Augusta Read Thomas was the subject of one of The Miller Theatre’s Composer Portraits. My friend Monica and I were drawn into Ms. Thomas’s musical world, as well as much taken with her as a personality.

Ritual Incantations opens with solo cello in a fanfare-like summons, followed by a mystical, plaintive passage which Mr. Finckel plays gorgeously. Bells of varying textures are heard in an animated section before the cello takes up a soulful solo; incantatory chimes summon us as to prayer, and the harp lends a feeling of enchantment. Wind voices and cello converse, taking Mr. Finckel’s voice to the depths.

The music turns lively, urgent and emphatic. There are jabs and sudden bursts from various instruments, and then again the cello sings longingly, rising upwards. A glassy shimmer ends the work abruptly. The other-worldly aspects of the music evoke uncharted distances whilst the passionate beauty of the cello writing wraps itself around the soul. I can’t stop listening to it.

July 23, 2016
Safe in Beulah Land

On November 13th, 1969, Beverly Sills sang one of her signature roles, Baby Doe in Douglas Moore’s opera THE BALLAD OF BABY DOE, for what I believe was the last time in her career. It was the date of her mother’s birthday, and she had asked her mom what role she would like to have sung for her on her special day; “Baby Doe,” was the answer, and the performance was a sensation from start to finish.

Sills Mania was in full flourish at that time, and as the members of the Snowstorm Crew gathered in the 5th Ring of the New York State Theatre on that November evening, the anticipation was palpable. Beverly’s first entrance drew a round of welcoming applause, and each of Baby Doe’s arias – and especially the the Willow Song – stopped the show.

The opera is based on the story of Horace Tabor, who made a fortune in silver mining in Colorado in the 1880s. Tabor owned the Matchless Mine in Leadville, and he and his wife Augusta were leading figures in the community. Horace met and became infatuated with Elizabeth “Baby” Doe, a young divorced woman who was twenty-five years his junior. Baby Doe was shunned by high society, being viewed as a fortune-huntress. Horace Tabor divorced Augusta in 1883 and married Baby Doe. They had two daughters.

In 1893, Tabor lost everything when the United States adopted the gold standard. He was named postmaster of the city of Denver, but his spirit was broken and he died in 1899. On his deathbed, he made Baby Doe promise that she would “always hold on to the Matchless Mine.”

True to her word, Baby Doe lived in a tiny cabin at the entrance to the mine until 1935, when, following a severe snowstorm, her body was found frozen to death on the cabin floor. She was buried next to Horace in the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Jefferson County, Colorado.

Douglas Moore’s operatic setting of the story (libretto by John Latouche) ends with Horace’s death; cradling his body, Baby Doe sings the gentle lullaby, “Always Thru The Changing of Sun and Shadow”. As the aria progresses, the scenery fades away and snow begins to fall, foreshadowing Baby’s eventual demise.

On that November evening – now nearly a half-century ago – Beverly held the audience in the palm of her hand as she sang this song of dedication and undying love.

The ovation was endless, and our ‘snowstorm’ of paper confetti was massive. After several minutes of applause, we all started singing “Happy birthday, Mrs. Silverman!” I wish I had let the tape run to include that.

June 24, 2016
Bronfman & Braunstein @ Zankel Hall

Saturday June 18th, 2016 – Yefim Bronfman (above) concluding a Prokofiev piano sonata cycle at Zankel Hall this evening, playing the 5th and 9th sonatas. Violinist Guy Braunstein joined Mr. Bronfman for the two Prokofiev violin sonatas.

After passing some days in a state of reclusive depression over the Orlando shootings, I ventured out tonight even though I was not really in the mood for it. But Bronfman is one of my most-admired musicians, and Prokofiev among my favorite composers, so I felt a strong desire to be there. Prokofiev’s music is not consoling, as a rule, though there are passages that reach to the soul, especially in the Andante of the second violin sonata, where Mr. Braunstein was at his finest this evening.

Watching Yefim Bronfman perform is a particularly pleasing experience for me. He walks out, bows genially, sits down, and he and the keyboard become one. There are no frills, and no theatricality in his playing: it’s all about the music and his communing with it. Very brief pauses between movements keep the impetus of the music – and our delight in it – in true focus.

Bronfman’s rendering of the 5th piano sonata was deeply satisfying, the audience engrossed as he immersed himself in the music’s ever-shifting melodic and rhythmic elements. This was exactly the ‘great escape’ from world-weariness I so desperately needed tonight. From its songful start, the opening Allegro tranquillo was a complete delight: the touches of dissonance adding spice, with wit, irony, and drama all having their say. A delicate march heralds the Andantino, with fetching trills, before things get darker and more emphatic, leading to a low-rumbling of a finish. By turns jaunty, lyrical, and pungent, the concluding Poco allegretto was polished off with Bronfman’s inimitable clarity and grace, the music seeming to vanish into a dream at the end.

Above: Guy Braunstein

Mr. Braunstein then joined the pianist for the violin sonata #1. Here the piano’s somber opening of the Andante assai gives way to a rather hesitant start for the violin, with some buzzing trills before things expand to a rather labored passage. Then the piano’s misterioso murmurs underpin the violin’s sliding scales. The emphatic start of the Allegro brusco drew some energetic foot stamping from Mr. Braunstein as the turbulence envelops us; and then suddenly his violin sings a lusty song. After re-grouping and re-energizing, the music turns more pensive – but only briefly: a riotous dance ensues, subsiding into lyricism before another dramatic surge.

The Andante features a shimmering piano motif as the violin sings in the alto range; both instruments move to the higher spheres in a unison passage, which eventually goes very high indeed. Back to the alto colourings for more of the violin’s forlorn phrases. High and lilting, the piano signals the movement’s soft ending. A sprightly jig sets off the finale, calming eventually and leading to a delicate pizzicati paragraph. Some lively scrambling makes us think the end is nigh, but instead the violin’s mute goes on and rolling scales summon an impression of “the wind in a graveyard”; the sonata ends sadly.

The performance drew an enthusiastic response from the sold-out house; a bit of iffy intonation from the violin in places mattered little in the end, since Braunstein’s mixture of poetry and vigor made the music so savorable.

Following the interval, Mr. Bronfman returned for the 9th piano sonata. The first movement starts gently, and continues amiably, though there’s an underlying restlessness. More expansive passages, and some low, rumbling scales lead to an eventual quiet finish. The second movement is scherzo-like, with rippling scales and a jogging rhythm; a pensive passage, more jogging, and another soft ending.

The Andante tranquillo brought forth more Bronfman magic: a wistful melody, followed by a glittering brilliance that subsides to mystery and then to sadness. From deep rumblings, the music rises to a high melancholy. After a big start, the Allegro finale turns ironic; “shining” music gleams forth, surrendering to mirth, percolating on high, whispering a farewell. Here Bronfman’s virtuosity and subtle colorations were at their most alluring.

To end the evening, Prokofiev’s second violin sonata, which had started life as a flute sonata, and which David Oistrakh had prevailed on the composer to re-cast for violin in 1943. This familiar work was played with a wonderful melding of the two instruments, the players so alert to one another and marking the beauty of the Andante with glowing sound. Traces of my earlier concerns about pitch in the violin line cropped up again, but my pianist-companion seemed to feel that the issue was minor, and so I let the energy and optimism of the Allegro con brio the finale carry me along…together with the rest of the crowd, who swept to their feet at the finish to salute the generous playing and the final expression of joie de vivre from the two players.

June 19, 2016
Bronfman & Braunstein @ Zankel Hall

Saturday June 18th, 2016 – Yefim Bronfman (above) concluding a Prokofiev piano sonata cycle at Zankel Hall this evening, playing the 5th and 9th sonatas. Violinist Guy Braunstein joined Mr. Bronfman for the two Prokofiev violin sonatas.

After passing some days in a state of reclusive depression over the Orlando shootings, I ventured out tonight even though I was not really in the mood for it. But Bronfman is one of my most-admired musicians, and Prokofiev among my favorite composers, so I felt a strong desire to be there. Prokofiev’s music is not consoling, as a rule, though there are passages that reach to the soul, especially in the Andante of the second violin sonata, where Mr. Braunstein was at his finest this evening.

Watching Yefim Bronfman perform is a particularly pleasing experience for me. He walks out, bows genially, sits down, and he and the keyboard become one. There are no frills, and no theatricality in his playing: it’s all about the music and his communing with it. Very brief pauses between movements keep the impetus of the music – and our delight in it – in true focus.

Bronfman’s rendering of the 5th piano sonata was deeply satisfying, the audience engrossed as he immersed himself in the music’s ever-shifting melodic and rhythmic elements. This was exactly the ‘great escape’ from world-weariness I so desperately needed tonight. From its songful start, the opening Allegro tranquillo was a complete delight: the touches of dissonance adding spice, with wit, irony, and drama all having their say. A delicate march heralds the Andantino, with fetching trills, before things get darker and more emphatic, leading to a low-rumbling of a finish. By turns jaunty, lyrical, and pungent, the concluding Poco allegretto was polished off with Bronfman’s inimitable clarity and grace, the music seeming to vanish into a dream at the end.

Above: Guy Braunstein

Mr. Braunstein then joined the pianist for the violin sonata #1. Here the piano’s somber opening of the Andante assai gives way to a rather hesitant start for the violin, with some buzzing trills before things expand to a rather labored passage. Then the piano’s misterioso murmurs underpin the violin’s sliding scales. The emphatic start of the Allegro brusco drew some energetic foot stamping from Mr. Braunstein as the turbulence envelops us; and then suddenly his violin sings a lusty song. After re-grouping and re-energizing, the music turns more pensive – but only briefly: a riotous dance ensues, subsiding into lyricism before another dramatic surge.

The Andante features a shimmering piano motif as the violin sings in the alto range; both instruments move to the higher spheres in a unison passage, which eventually goes very high indeed. Back to the alto colourings for more of the violin’s forlorn phrases. High and lilting, the piano signals the movement’s soft ending. A sprightly jig sets off the finale, calming eventually and leading to a delicate pizzicati paragraph. Some lively scrambling makes us think the end is nigh, but instead the violin’s mute goes on and rolling scales summon an impression of “the wind in a graveyard”; the sonata ends sadly.

The performance drew an enthusiastic response from the sold-out house; a bit of iffy intonation from the violin in places mattered little in the end, since Braunstein’s mixture of poetry and vigor made the music so savorable.

Following the interval, Mr. Bronfman returned for the 9th piano sonata. The first movement starts gently, and continues amiably, though there’s an underlying restlessness. More expansive passages, and some low, rumbling scales lead to an eventual quiet finish. The second movement is scherzo-like, with rippling scales and a jogging rhythm; a pensive passage, more jogging, and another soft ending.

The Andante tranquillo brought forth more Bronfman magic: a wistful melody, followed by a glittering brilliance that subsides to mystery and then to sadness. From deep rumblings, the music rises to a high melancholy. After a big start, the Allegro finale turns ironic; “shining” music gleams forth, surrendering to mirth, percolating on high, whispering a farewell. Here Bronfman’s virtuosity and subtle colorations were at their most alluring.

To end the evening, Prokofiev’s second violin sonata, which had started life as a flute sonata, and which David Oistrakh had prevailed on the composer to re-cast for violin in 1943. This familiar work was played with a wonderful melding of the two instruments, the players so alert to one another and marking the beauty of the Andante with glowing sound. Traces of my earlier concerns about pitch in the violin line cropped up again, but my pianist-companion seemed to feel that the issue was minor, and so I let the energy and optimism of the Allegro con brio the finale carry me along…together with the rest of the crowd, who swept to their feet at the finish to salute the generous playing and the final expression of joie de vivre from the two players.

June 18, 2016
Encore: ELEKTRA @ The Met

Above: The Mask of Agamemnon

Saturday April 30th, 2016 matinee – Since ELEKTRA is one of my favorite operas – sometimes I think it is my favorite opera – I planned to see The Met’s new production of it once, and then to hear it again from a score desk.

Some people had issues with the voices of Nina Stemme and Adrianne Pieczonka at the production’s Met premiere on April 14th: squally, shrill, and flat were among descriptive words I heard being tossed about. There were also complaints that Waltraud Meier, as Klytemnestra, was “inaudible” or at least seriously under-powered vocally. So when my friend Dmitry and I attended the second performance on April 18th, we were pleased to find that both Stemme and Pieczonka sounded much better than we’d been expecting, and that Meier, though vocally restrained when compared to such past exponents of the role as Resnik, Rysanek, Fassbaender, Christa Ludwig, or Mignon Dunn, was able to make something of the music thru diction and vocal colour.

This afternoon, the three principal women all seemed rather out of sorts vocally. Stemme sounded frayed and effortful, the highest notes sometimes just a shade flat and her vibrato more intrusive than at the earlier performance. Ms. Pieczonka was likewise on lesser form, tending to sound shrill under pressure, and the voices of both sopranos seemed smaller and less free that I remembered. Ms. Meier was – honestly (and I am a big fan of hers) – nearly inaudible much of the time; a lot of her verbal detail didn’t penetrate the orchestra. (Since the performance was being broadcast, undoubtedly Ms. Meier made a much more vivid impression over the airwaves).

Stemme and Pieczonka did achieve a higher level as the afternoon wore on; their most exciting singing came after the murder of Aegisth and on thru to the end of the opera. But compared to their earlier performance, they were both a bit disappointing. Of course, we have to take into account that these are two of the most fearsome and challenging roles in the soprano repertoire, and are being sung over a huge orchestra in a vast space. The wear and tear on their instruments must be incredible.

The audience at large were undeterred by concerns over vocal matters, and they lustily cheered the three women at the curtain calls; the ovation for Ms. Stemme – well-merited for her generosity and courage – was enormous, and the house lights were turned on so she could see everyone standing and screaming for her.

For me, it was the opera itself – and Esa-Pekka Salonen’s conducting of it – that made the performance memorable. The orchestra played spectacularly, and if Maestro Salonen sped thru some of the music (the Recognition Scene seemed really fast) it sort of added to the sense of exhilaration I was experiencing just from hearing the opera live again.

Eric Owens made an outstanding impression as Orestes today; his first lines established a powerful and rather creepy vocal presence, and at “Lass den Orest…” he was truly splendid. He has the right amplitude for this music in this house, and was deservedly hailed at his solo bow.

Special mention to Bonita Hyman for her rich, deep contralto singing as the First Maid, and to the remarkable Roberta Alexander, who again made such a moving impression as the Fifth Maid, a Chéreau ‘invention’ that paid off handsomely.

Metropolitan Opera House April 30th, 2016 Matinee
ELEKTRA Richard Strauss Elektra....................Nina Stemme Chrysothemis...............Adrianne Pieczonka Klytämnestra...............Waltraud Meier Orest......................Eric Owens Aegisth....................Burkhard Ulrich Overseer...................Susan Neves Serving Woman..............Bonita Hyman Serving Woman..............Maya Lahyani Serving Woman..............Andrea Hill Serving Woman..............Claudia Waite Serving Woman..............Roberta Alexander Confidant..................Susan Neves Trainbearer................Andrea Hill Young Servant..............Mark Schowalter Old Servant................James Courtney Guardian...................Kevin Short
Conductor..................Esa-Pekka Salonen

April 29, 2016