Category: Reviews

Matinee @ The Met: OTELLO

Saturday April 23rd, 2016 matinee – I went to this performance of OTELLO at The Met expressly to hear Hibla Gerzmava (above) as Desdemona. Feeling no need to see the production, I took a score desk. Since I could not see the stage, I missed a cast change that took place spontaneously between Acts III and IV.

Aleksandrs Antonenko started out strongly, seeming to be in better voice as Otello than at the earlier performance I had heard; but by the end of Act III he was taking stuff down an octave and speaking the lines. A substitute sang Act IV while Antonenko acted the role.

The cover, named Francesco Anile (above), sounded more Italianate and his vibrato was less prominent than Antonenko’s; but since I was unaware of the change, I just thought – from what I was hearing – that Antonenko had gotten a second wind and was making a final push. A spokesperson for the Met came onstage before the curtain calls started to explain what had happened (this was also needed for the radio audience). Then Antonenko and Gerzmava bowed together…she seemed to be trying to console him…and finally Anile came out in jeans and sneakers with an old robe thrown over his shoulders.

Antonenko’s uneven performance in the first half of the evening included a some really nice passages mixed in with the more effortful ones. But I wondered – as I had at the earlier performance I saw – whether he merited a new production (for an opening night) at The Met, considering his less-than-stellar vocalism. Since Domingo retired the role, only Johan Botha has been more than a serviceable Otello at The Met. Heppner, Galouzine, and Cura were variable, at best. Without a world-class exponent of the title-role around these days, new productions seem unwarranted.

Ms. Gerzmava’s voice is beautifully ‘present’ in the big Met space. Her singing has a darkish glow, she phrases appealingly, and incorporates piano effects nicely, if rather sparingly (I kept hoping for more). A trace of sharpness was evident here and there, and the final A-flat of the Ave Maria would have been more effective if held just a bit longer.

As has sometimes happened before at The Met, the sound of voices from the lighting bay in the auditorium’s ceiling ruined much of the Willow Song and Ave Maria; it was around the same time that a cellphone also went off.

All of the wonderful things about Željko Lučić – the authentic Met-sized voice, the uninhibited range, the dramatic nuances he brings to his singing – are undone by continuous problems of pitch. So many thrilling moments in Lučić’s Iago today were offset by his seeming inability to control this serious defect.

Chad Shelton’s Roderigo stood out – both in terms of voice and inflection – among the supporting cast today. Jennifer Johnson Cano (Emilia), Alexey Dolgov (Cassio), Jeff Mattsey (Montano), and Tyler Duncan (A Herald who is ready for bigger roles) all did well. And that beloved Wotan and Hans Sachs, James Morris, was warmly greeted at his curtain call in the role of Lodovico.

Conductor Adam Fischer set the opera on its way with a stimulatingly powerful treatment of the storm music; The Met chorus and orchestra were ship-shape all afternoon.

A fun article about Signor Anile’s stepping in here.

Metropolitan Opera House April 23rd, 2016 matinee

OTELLO Giuseppe Verdi
Otello..................Aleksandrs Antonenko/Francesco Anile (Act IV) Desdemona...............Hibla Gerzmava Iago....................Zeljko Lucic Emilia..................Jennifer Johnson Cano Cassio..................Alexey Dolgov Lodovico................James Morris Montàno.................Jeff Mattsey Roderigo................Chad Shelton Herald..................Tyler Duncan
Conductor...............Adam Fischer

April 22, 2016
The Young Björling

Jussi Björling’s was the first tenor voice I fell in love with. After I had discovered opera in 1959, my parents gifted me with a two-LP set of excerpts from RCA’s Verdi and Puccini catalog. The singers on those records – Licia Albanese, Roberta Peters, Zinka Milanov, Jan Peerce, Robert Merrill, Leonard Warren, and Giorgio Tozzi, in addition to Björling – assumed god-like status for me.

It was the plaintive sweetness of Björling’s voice that really ignited my imagination; and thru the ensuing years, it has often been the tenors – Tucker, Bergonzi, Corelli, Vickers, Pavarotti, Domingo – who provided the greatest thrills and chills in the many performances I have seen and heard.

In the early 1930s, Björling made his first aria recordings, in Swedish. On a quiet afternoon yesterday, I was listening to – and savoring – the youthful lyricism of this remarkable voice; he had turned twenty in 1931:

Jussi Björling – TOSCA aria – in Swedish

By the end of that decade, Björling’s career was well underway, his voice was in full bloom, and he was singing in Italian:

Jussi Björling – O Paradiso – L’AFRICANA

He made many recordings in the ensuing years, including the Verdi REQUIEM under Fritz Reiner, which was recorded in June 1960; three months later, Björling died.

The great tenor was buried at Stora Tuna in the Dalarna province of his native land.

Two decades before the Reiner recording of the REQUIEM was made, Björling recorded the Ingemisco from the Verdi masterpiece:

Jussi Björling – Ingemisco – from Verdi REQUIEM

March 27, 2016
TURANDOT at The Met – 4th of 4

Above: a Met TURANDOT blast-from-the-past with Birgit, Franco (Z, not C), Jimmy, Eva, Liz, and Placi

Saturday January 30th, 2016 matinee – I took a score desk this afternoon to hear the fourth of four sopranos who have sung the role of Turandot during the current Met season. My history of Turandots at The Met goes back to the Old House, where Mary Curtis-Verna was the first soprano I heard in the role. Since then, I have witnessed almost every singer to tackle this part in New York City, from The Big B (Birgit Nilsson) to sopranos you never heard of, several of them at New York City Opera where a perfectly nice Beni Montresor production held forth for many seasons.

At The Met, where Franco Zeffirelli’s extravaganza (which replaced Birgit’s Cecil Beaton setting in 1987) has been home to such post-Birgit divas as Eva Marton, Dame Gwyneth Jones, Ghena Dimitrova, and Jane Eaglen, audiences still cheer – as they did today – the massive vision of the royal palace as it comes into view midway thru Act II.

Act I today was very pleasing to hear: after a dragging tempo for the opening scene of the Mandarin’s address (grandly declaimed by David Crawford, who had the breath control to fill out the slo-mo phrases), conductor Paolo Carignani had everything just about right. The score is a marvel of orchestration: so much detail, so many textured layers of sound. I simply love listening to this music, especially passages like “O taciturna!” where Carignani drew forth such evocative colours from his players.

Anita Hartig sang very attractively as Liu, her voice reminding me just a bit of the wonderful Teresa Zylis-Gara’s. Hartig did not do a lot of piano/pianissimo singing, which can be so very appealing in this music, but she had the power to carry easily over the first act’s concluding ensemble. The Romanian soprano’s concluding B-flat in “Signore ascolta” was first taken in straight tone; she then allowed the vibrato to seep in: quite a lovely moment. Hartig’s voice has an unusual timbre and just a touch of flutter to bring out the vulnerability of the character.

I was likewise very impressed and moved by the singing of Alexander Tsymbalyuk as Timur: mellow and warm of tone, and with a deep sense of humanity.

Whilst not holding a candle to such past Calafs as Corelli, Tucker, McCracken, Domingo, or Pav, Marco Berti did very well in Act I: his idiomatic singing carried well (though Carignani swamped him a couple of times, unnecessarily), and his piano approach to the opening phrases of “Non piangere, Liu” was finely judged. Berti firmly sustained his final call of “Turandot!” at the act’s conclusion.

The three ministers – Dwayne Croft, Tony Stevenson, and Eduardo Valdes – did well, especially as they reminded Berti/Calaf that La vita è così bella! These three singers, as far as I know, sang these trio roles at every performance of TURANDOT this season and made a fine job of it; but a ‘second cast’ might have been given an opportunity. Variety is the spice of operatic life, after all.

After the ridiculously long intermission, Act II started well but then things began to unravel a bit. Mr. Croft experienced some hoarseness, and Mr. Berti didn’t sound solid in the vocally oddly-placed lines at “Figlio del cielo!” where he re-affirms to the old Emperor his desire to play Turandot’s riddle game. A silence of anticipation filled the house just as Nina Stemme was about to commence “In questa reggia“, but the moment was spoilt by voices from the lighting bay at the top of the hall shouting “Have you got her?” The chatter continued through the opening measures of the aria.

Ms. Stemme’s now-prominent vibrato sounded squally at first; the phrasing was uneven and frankly the singing had a rather elderly quality. The top notes were rather cautiously approached and seemed a bit unstable, though she was mostly able to disguise the effort. Concerns about producing the tone seemed infringe on her diction, with some odd results. The opening challenge of the riddle scene – “Straniero! Ascolta!” – did not have the desired ring.

Stemme’s posing of the riddles was a mixed bag vocally – and Berti’s responses were clipped, with traces of hoarseness creeping in. By the third riddle, the soprano seemed to be gaining steadiness. In the great moment after her defeat when Turandot is called upon by Puccini to blaze forth with two high-Cs over the chorus, Stemme made no impact on the first one and was assisted by the chorus soprani for the second. Berti responded with a skin-of-his-teeth high-C on “…ti voglio tutto ardente d’amor!” but the tenor came thru with a pleasingly tender “…all’alba morirò…” before the chorus drew the act to a close.

I debated staying for the third act, mainly to hear Hartig and Tsymbalyuk, but the thought of another 40-minute intermission persuaded me otherwise. Returning home, I found a message from a friend: “So, who was the best of the Met’s four Turandots?” The laurel wreath would go to Lise Lindstrom. Jennifer Wilson in her one Met outing was vocally savvy but it would have been better to have heard her a few years earlier. The role didn’t seem a good fit for Goerke or Stemme, who expended considerable vocal effort to make the music work for them (Goerke more successfully, to my mind) but both would have perhaps been wiser to apply their energy to roles better suited to their gifts (namely, Wagner and Strauss). Still, it was sporting of them to give La Principessa a go.

As with the three earlier TURANDOTs I attended this season, and the many I’ve experienced in this Zeffirelli setting over the years, the house was packed today. Even Family Circle standing room was densely populated. To me, this indicates the opera-going public’s desire for the grand operas to be grandly staged.

There’s a rumor circulating that today’s performance marked the final time this classic production will be seen. It seems a mistake to discard it, since it originated fully-underwritten by Mrs. Donald D. Harrington, revivals have always been generously supported by major Met donors, and it obviously does well at the box office. Why put a cash cow out to pasture? It’s already been suggested that the next Met TURANDOT production will be set in Chinatown in the early 1900s and will star Anna Netrebko and Jonas Kaufmann (who will cancel), with Domingo as Altoum.

Metropolitan Opera House January 30th, 2016 matinee
Giacomo Puccini's TURANDOT Turandot................Nina Stemme Calàf...................Marco Berti Liù.....................Anita Hartig Timur...................Alexander Tsymbalyuk Ping....................Dwayne Croft Pang....................Tony Stevenson Pong....................Eduardo Valdes Emperor Altoum..........Ronald Naldi Mandarin................David Crawford Maid....................Anne Nonnemacher Maid....................Mary Hughes Prince of Persia........Sasha Semin Executioner.............Arthur Lazalde Three Masks: Elliott Reiland, Andrew Robinson, Amir Levy Temptresses: Jennifer Cadden, Oriada Islami Prifti, Rachel Schuette, Sarah Weber-Gallo
Conductor...............Paolo Carignani

January 30, 2016
Beethoven & Bruckner @ The NY Phil

Above: James Ehnes, violinist, performing with The New York Philharmonic tonight

Wednesday January 27th, 2016 – The New York Philharmonic playing masterworks by Beethoven and Bruckner under Juanjo Mena’s baton, with James Ehnes the featured soloist.

The Philharmonic’s been the talk of the town this week with the announcement of the appointment of Jaap van Zweden as the orchestra’s next music director; read more about the good news here.

Tonight, Mr. Ehnes played the Beethoven violin concerto with silken tone and technical aplomb, evoking an atmosphere of hushed attentiveness in the hall and finishing to a prolonged ovation with a triple “curtain call” and with the artists of the Philharmonic joining in the applause. The tall violinist is as congenial to watch as to hear, and he and Maestro Mena formed an elegant musical affinity as the concerto progressed, sharing a warm embrace at the end.

Beethoven’s violin concerto was written and first performed in 1806 and – after it’s premiere performance by Franz Clement, the 26-year-old principal violinist and conductor at the Theater an der Wien in Vienna – it took years for the concerto to catch on. That first performance must have been something of a nightmare: Beethoven completed the work just two days before the premiere, and the surviving autograph score is a mess of crossings-out, over-writings, and alternative ‘versions’. The soloist, having had no time to learn and rehearse the long and complex work, had to use the score for the premiere; for much of the time he was virtually sight-reading. One reviewer wrote: “Beethoven could put his undoubtedly great talents to better uses”.

Prior to publishing the work, Beethoven modified and clarified it following the 1806 premiere. The concerto finally began to work its way into the standard repertoire after a highly-praised performance in London in 1844, conducted by Felix Mendelssohn and played by the 12-year-old prodigy Joseph Joachim. It comes down to us as one of the greatest works of the violin concerto genre.

James Ehnes gave a lovingly detailed performance; a series of high trills in the opening movement were dazzlingly clear, and his dynamic control throughout was simply exquisite. Maestro Mena sculpted the opening passages of the central Larghetto to perfection, the violinist then joining in with playing of sweetly sustained lyricism. The ‘Kreisler’ cadenzas were spun off with serene virtuosity. At every moment – whether playing fast or slow – Mr. Ehnes maintained an enchanting sheen on his tone. Thus the audience’s grateful show of the enthusiasm at the end was eminently deserved.

Following the interval, Maestro Mena (above) and the Philharmonic musicians gave a thoroughly impressive performance of Bruckner’s 6th symphony. It’s always pleasing to have Sheryl Staples in the concertmaster’s chair, and to have Cynthia Phelps and Carter Brey leading their sections with such committed artistry. I often wish that the wind players could be seated on risers so we could better savour their individual performances: passages of wind chorale in the Bruckner were beautifully blended.

The orchestra were at their finest in the compelling themes of the symphony’s Adagio. Both here and in the opening Majestoso, Maestro Mena was deeply involved in drawing forth the inner voices to give a full range of colour to each gorgeous passage.

In the third movement, a Scherzo, it seems to me that Bruckner’s imagination flags ever so slightly. The concluding movement – wonderfully played – felt over-long, almost as if the composer was unsure of how he wanted the piece to end. This ‘finale’ was not publicly performed until 1899, three years after Bruckner’s death; perhaps he would have tailored it more concisely if he’d been able to judge the effect in an actual concert performance. We’ll never know. Yet overall, the sonorous grandeur of the 6th makes a vivid impression.

Pre-concert photo by my friend Dmitry.

January 28, 2016
Beethoven & Bruckner @ The NY Phil

Above: James Ehnes, violinist, performing with The New York Philharmonic tonight

Wednesday January 27th, 2016 – The New York Philharmonic playing masterworks by Beethoven and Bruckner under Juanjo Mena’s baton, with James Ehnes the featured soloist.

The Philharmonic’s been the talk of the town this week with the announcement of the appointment of Jaap van Zweden as the orchestra’s next music director; read more about the good news here.

Tonight, Mr. Ehnes played the Beethoven violin concerto with silken tone and technical aplomb, evoking an atmosphere of hushed attentiveness in the hall and finishing to a prolonged ovation with a triple “curtain call” and with the artists of the Philharmonic joining in the applause. The tall violinist is as congenial to watch as to hear, and he and Maestro Mena formed an elegant musical affinity as the concerto progressed, sharing a warm embrace at the end.

Beethoven’s violin concerto was written and first performed in 1806 and – after it’s premiere performance by Franz Clement, the 26-year-old principal violinist and conductor at the Theater an der Wien in Vienna – it took years for the concerto to catch on. That first performance must have been something of a nightmare: Beethoven completed the work just two days before the premiere, and the surviving autograph score is a mess of crossings-out, over-writings, and alternative ‘versions’. The soloist, having had no time to learn and rehearse the long and complex work, had to use the score for the premiere; for much of the time he was virtually sight-reading. One reviewer wrote: “Beethoven could put his undoubtedly great talents to better uses”.

Prior to publishing the work, Beethoven modified and clarified it following the 1806 premiere. The concerto finally began to work its way into the standard repertoire after a highly-praised performance in London in 1844, conducted by Felix Mendelssohn and played by the 12-year-old prodigy Joseph Joachim. It comes down to us as one of the greatest works of the violin concerto genre.

James Ehnes gave a lovingly detailed performance; a series of high trills in the opening movement were dazzlingly clear, and his dynamic control throughout was simply exquisite. Maestro Mena sculpted the opening passages of the central Larghetto to perfection, the violinist then joining in with playing of sweetly sustained lyricism. The ‘Kreisler’ cadenzas were spun off with serene virtuosity. At every moment – whether playing fast or slow – Mr. Ehnes maintained an enchanting sheen on his tone. Thus the audience’s grateful show of the enthusiasm at the end was eminently deserved.

Following the interval, Maestro Mena (above) and the Philharmonic musicians gave a thoroughly impressive performance of Bruckner’s 6th symphony. It’s always pleasing to have Sheryl Staples in the concertmaster’s chair, and to have Cynthia Phelps and Carter Brey leading their sections with such committed artistry. I often wish that the wind players could be seated on risers so we could better savour their individual performances: passages of wind chorale in the Bruckner were beautifully blended.

The orchestra were at their finest in the compelling themes of the symphony’s Adagio. Both here and in the opening Majestoso, Maestro Mena was deeply involved in drawing forth the inner voices to give a full range of colour to each gorgeous passage.

In the third movement, a Scherzo, it seems to me that Bruckner’s imagination flags ever so slightly. The concluding movement – wonderfully played – felt over-long, almost as if the composer was unsure of how he wanted the piece to end. This ‘finale’ was not publicly performed until 1899, three years after Bruckner’s death; perhaps he would have tailored it more concisely if he’d been able to judge the effect in an actual concert performance. We’ll never know. Yet overall, the sonorous grandeur of the 6th makes a vivid impression.

Pre-concert photo by my friend Dmitry.

January 27, 2016
Sir Thomas Allen Sings Grieg

Sir Thomas Allen (above) sings two songs by Edvard Grieg.

Sir Thomas Allen – 2 Grieg Songs – BBC 1993

Sir Tom has always been a particular favorite of mine; I had the great pleasure of meeting him in 2001 when he was in New York City for performances of MEISTERSINGER in which he was a splendid Beckmesser. I’ve also greatly enjoyed him as Count Almaviva in NOZZE DI FIGARO and as the Music Master in ARIADNE AUF NAXOS; he also played an exceptionally moving and beautifully-sung Sharpless in MADAMA BUTTERFLY. In January 2015, he was at The Met as Baron Zeta in THE MERRY WIDOW.

December 28, 2015
Unseen: Not Just Another TOSCA @ The Met

Above: Maestro Joseph Colaneri

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Metropolitan Opera House November 28th, 2015 matinee

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

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

November 28, 2015
At Home With Wagner IX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Above: Wolfgang Sawallisch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Above: Jean Cox and Ingrid Bjoner

November 27, 2015
Chamber Music Society: Nights in Vienna
Sunday November 22nd, 2015 – Pianist Gilbert Kalish (above) and a septet of his top-notch colleagues met on the stage of Alice Tully Hall this evening for a programme of works by three composers whose lives were linked to the city of Vienna. On a day when we are still trying to comprehend the recent terror attacks in Paris – and also remembering the death of John F Kennedy on this date 52 years ago – Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s offered music that was by turns heartening and thought-provoking, and all of it impeccably played.

When New York’s great musical organizations – Chamber Music Society, the NY Phil, Carnegie Hall, The Met, Young Concert Artists – announce their upcoming seasons each year, I love to pore over the listings, searching for certain works or artists and putting the dates immediately on my calendar. Thus for many weeks I’ve been looking forward to today’s Chamber Music Society concert as an opportunity to experience first-hand Arnold Schoenberg’s Kammersymphonie; I discovered this piece years ago – it was actually my introduction to Schoenberg – and have always wanted to hear it played live. Today’s performance of the Webern arrangement was incredibly vivid.

But, to start at the beginning, this musical celebration of Vienna opened with music of Haydn: the E-minor piano trio. Gilbert Kalish, who played in all three works this evening, is at that marvelous point in his career where his playing retains youthful vitality while his artistry – developed over a long career – is at its peak. His playing was marked by effortless technique, an assured rightness of style in each of the three contrasting works, and an Olde World feeling of grace without theatricality.

Seeming taller and slimmer than the last time I saw him, violinist Nicolas Dautricourt strode onstage and for a moment I mistook him for ABT’s Marcelo Gomes. Mr. Dautricourt is a particular favorite of mine, both to watch and to hear; his stage presence is paradoxically relaxed and intense, and his playing is beautifully nuanced with especial attention to dynamic gradations. Cellist Torleif Thedéen was an ideal colleague for M. Dautricourt today: their rapport was inspiring to watch, aligning the harmonies and relishing the melodic opportunities Haydn has given them. Their affection and respect for Mr. Kalish was clearly evident both here and – later – in the concluding Brahms.

Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony spans a single movement, though the composer has identified five distinct sub-divisions: Sonata (Allegro), Scherzo, Development, Adagio, and Recapitulation and Finale. Originally written for ten wind and five string players, the composer asked his student Anton Webern to re-cast the piece for a smaller ensemble, the better to take it out on tour. The result: twenty-two minutes of sheer musical brilliance.

The Kammersymphonie tonight was given a captivating performance: the quintet of musicians played with such richness of tone, such stimulating sense of colour, and such depth of feeling that one had the impression of a much larger ensemble playing. Gilbert Kalish’s sent waves of plush sound from the Steinway, giving the music an undercurrent of Late-Romantic lyricism; this same feeling was embraced by violinist Kristin Lee who seized upon the composer’s every melodic gesture with her pearly tone. Whenever the music turned more prickly, both Kalish and Lee were up for the adventure.

Tara Helen O’Connor, one of the Society’s elite, sent her flute roulades wafting brightly overall whilst the gorgeous (no other word suffices) tone of Nicholas Canellakis’s cello seems always to achieve a direct hot-wire to the heart-strings.

New to me this evening was clarinetist Tomasso Lonquich (above) who made a spectacular impression both with his sumptuous tone and the passion of his playing. Whether at full cry or honing the sound down to a thread, Mr. Lonquich displayed his mastery at every moment; meanwhile his deep commitment to the music sometimes nearly drew him out of his chair as he polished off Schoenberg’s demanding phrases with compelling sincerity.

This staggeringly opulent ensemble drew a din of applause from the Alice Tully audience; as they took a second bow, my companion Adi – who had professed indifference to Schoenberg’s music before the concert began – found his opinion of the composer transformed. That’s what a great performance can accomplish.

As so often at Chamber Music Society’s concert, I found myself at the interval wondering how this level of music-making could possibly be sustained into the second half. Needless to say, as violist Paul Neubauer joined Mssrs. Kalish, Dautricourt and Thedéen for the Brahms Third Piano Quartet, any thoughts of a letdown were immediately dismissed.

Nearly twenty years were to pass between the time Brahms began working on this quartet (in 1855, at the time of his friend Robert Schumann’s last illness, when Brahms was torn between sorrow for his friend and desperate love for his friend’s wife, Clara) and its publication. His romantic inclinations toward Frau Schumann seem to perfume the music, especially in the third movement.

Tonight, Mr. Kalish’s opening octave set the tone for a performance of beautifully blended voices and outstanding solo passages (Mr. Neubauer’s expressiveness so congenial) which achieved a level of surpassing excellence in the Andante. Here Mr. Thedéen’s opening solo was poignantly set forth, with Mssrs. Dautricourt and Neubauer joining in turn: ravishing…a deep delight. The Andante ends magically, and then Nicolas Dautricourt launched the finale with a finely-turned solo. The audience’s enthusiasm at the end called the players back twice.

There was an odd sensation at times tonight that someone was humming along with the music. At first I thought it might have been some acoustical oddity, but Adi noticed it as well.

Prior to the start of the concert, co-artistic Director Wu Han announced the death of the venerable violinist on teacher Joseph Silverstein. This first movement from the Barber violin concerto shows Silverstein’s poetic qualities and persuasive tone to perfection.

The Repertory:
- Haydn Trio in E minor for Piano, Violin, and Cello, Hob. XV:12 (1789)
- Schoenberg Kammersymphonie, arranged for Flute, Clarinet, Violin, Cello, and Piano, Op. 9 (arr. Webern) (1906, arr. 1922-23)
- Brahms Quartet No. 3 in C minor for Piano, Violin, Viola, and Cello, Op. 60 (1855-56, 1874)
The Participating Artists:
Gilbert Kalish , piano

Nicolas Dautricourt , violin

Kristin Lee , violin

Paul Neubauer , viola
Nicholas Canellakis , cello

Torleif Thedéen , cello

Tara Helen O’Connor , flute

Tommaso Lonquich , clarinet
November 22, 2015
More Rachmaninoff @ The NY Phil

Saturday November 21st, 2015 – The New York Philharmonic‘s Rachmaninoff Festival continued tonight, bringing together pianist Daniil Trifonov (above) and conductor Neeme Järvi for the composer’s 4th piano concerto. The evening opened with Arkady Leytush’s orchestration of Rachmaninoff’s Russian Song, Op. 11, No. 3 and ended with Maestro Järvi and the orchestra on peak form for the Rachmaninoff 1st symphony. Incredibly, the symphony was having its NY Philharmonic premiere performances in this series of concerts.

The Russian Song is a deep, soulful song; lasting all of five minutes, it was a beautifully-played prelude for the concerto which followed. The basic theme goes thru moody rhythmic and harmonic shifts, with the sound of chimes and hammered bells giving a liturgical feeling. Just as we are getting immersed in these sounds, the piece is over.

Daniil Trifonov scored another hit with the Philharmonic audience in this, his second program in the orchestra’s Rachmaninoff series. The piano concerto No. 4 took Rachmaninoff nearly two years to complete and the result was unusually long as concertos go. At its premiere in 1927 – with the composer at the keyboard and Leopold Stokowski conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra – the critics bashed the piece and the composer set about editing it; it has come down to us in a relatively compact form of 25 minutes duration.

Mr. Trifonov filled these minutes with luxuriant playing. From its sweeping start thru the pensive opening of the ensuing Largo, the third movement’s vivid cadenza, and on to the uninterrupted and varied demands the composer makes on the pianist in the final Allegro Vivace, Trifonov displayed an ideal blend of lyricism and the virtuosity. Finishing in triumph, the pianist basked in a prolonged standing ovation, and responded to the audience’s cheers with a briskly delicate rendering of the ‘Silver’ Fairy’s variation from SLEEPING BEAUTY. A magical moment.

Neeme Järvi (above)

For all the felicities of Trifonov’s playing, I have to say that the piano concerto #4 didn’t really seize my imagination as a musical experience; but the Symphony No.1 absolutely did.

This symphony was composed in 1895, and its 1897 premiere, conducted by an allegedly drunk Alexander Glazunov, was nothing less than a disaster and sent Rachmaninoff into a deep depression. The work was withdrawn, the score – in a two-piano draft – languishing in the archives of the Glinka Museum in Moscow. It wasn’t until after the composer’s death that the orchestra parts were found in the archives of the Leningrad Conservatory. The symphony was reconstructed in full and given a ‘second premiere’ in Moscow in 1945, where it was at last accorded a warm welcome. It now recognized as a exemplar of the Rachmaninoff style.

The only mystery is why it has taken so long for the Philharmonic to present it, for these performances mark the orchestra’s first of this work. It was an unalloyed pleasure to encounter this symphony live, and thanks to Maestro Järvi and the artists of this great orchestra, the performance was truly engrossing.

A veritable treasure chest of melodic and rhythmic delights, the 1st symphony provides numerous opportunities for the principal players to ‘sing’: Anthony McGill (clarinet), Liang Wang (oboe), and Robert Langevin (flute) all outstandingly clear and true, and tonight’s concertmaster Michelle Kim in a lovely violin solo. A grand passage for massed horns and violins was especially gratifying for me, a one-time horn player.

I gave up trying to take notes (*) midway thru the symphony: I simply wanted to take it all in and savor the live experience. I’ll search the symphony out on YouTube and delve into it more deeply next week, but I do want to mention the particular inventiveness of the concluding Allegro con fuoco which starts with military drum rolls and eventually develops into a true Rachmaninoff ‘big melody’. Liang Wang’s dulcet oboe sounds yet again, then some wonderful rhythmic patterns develop. Things build, and then – out of the blue – there’s a tremendous, walloping bang on the gong: the sound is allowed to evaporate into thin air as the other musicians sit silently. Then they take up a last melodic passage, building to a big finale.

My hope is that this symphony will soon be programmed for additional Philharmonic performances…hopefully under Maestro Järvi’s baton.

* (The main reason I stopped taking notes was the distraction of a cellphone ringing in our immediate vicinity; a minor annoyance during the concerto, it became a full-blown nuisance during the symphony. The ushers came twice to attempt to isolate the source without disrupting the music, but the irritant continued. For a few moments I lost the thread of my concentration, and then I decided just to surrender to the music for the rest of the evening.)

November 21, 2015