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(Brought this over from the Grove…my first time hearing this captivating Albanian soprano. I knew I’d want to save this memory.)

Above: soprano Ermonela Jaho; click on the image to enlarge.

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday March 3rd, 2018 matinee – This afternoon’s performance of MADAMA BUTTERFLY at the Metropolitan Opera played to a packed house. It’s an opera that always manages to get to me, however often I’ve seen and heard it. New to me today was the Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho; her vocally fascinating performance was genuinely intriguing, especially in view of the fact that her voice is on the light side for such a taxing role in the big House. But Ms. Jaho knows her way around this music, and – supported by a strong line-up of colleagues – this made for a truly satisfying performance.

I like the Minghella production for the most part – despite the puppet – but I didn’t feel the need for a seat with a view today. Conductor Marco Armiliato has this music in his blood – though he sometimes covered the singers – and the orchestra played extremely well, with many really beautiful moments.

Ms. Jaho, whose timbre is a bit like Pilar Lorengar’s, at first sounded under-powered. But her phrasing and sense of youthful anticipation were spot on, so as she moved thru the entry aria, things began to bloom. The voice sits high: she finished “Spira sul mare” with a fine, sustained high D-flat. The soprano then commenced to draw me in and play on my heartstrings with one exquisite phrase after another.

“Ieri son salita...” had lovely delicacy, and the gentle resignation of “Rinegata…e felice!” was a sublimely done. As the love duet unfolded, Ms. Jaho’s delicious mixing in of piano/pianissimo notes kept giving me chills of delight. Her singing of “Vogliatemi bene…” was so moving in its plea for love, and her “…un bene da bambino” ravished. The soprano plucked stunning, silvery top notes out of the air, as at “…in man del’uom!” A sense of rapture built with her “Dolce notte…quante stelle!” followed by spectacular softness at “…quant’occhi fisi attente…” So many felicitous details in her singing! I genuinely hated being dragged back to reality following the Act I curtain today; I could not wait for the second act to begin.

In the scene leading up to “Un bel di“, Ms. Jaho was achingly touching with her sweet recollections of her brief time with Pinkerton: “O Butterfly…piccina moglietina…” and “…quando fa la nidiata…” were sublimely nuanced. “Un bel di” was intimately sung, so alive with verbal detail aligned you vocal colour. The final expression of hope and steadfastness was crowned by a crystalline high B-flat.

After rejecting Yamadori – her final life-line – Ms. Jaho’s Butterfly was spellbinding in the Letter Scene with Sharpless. Her hushed reply to the letter’s assumption that she would have forgotten Pinkerton (“Suzuki, dillo tu…”) was sung with a tender hush. She is numbed by the Consul’s suggestion that she forget Pinkerton, and lashes out violently at “Ah…m’ha scordata!!“, crying out in pain. She then brings forth Pinkerton’s son, and the story spirals to its tragic denouement.

“Che tua madre…” was simply crushing as a devastatingly personal reflection on what Butterfly would do as an abandoned wife and mother: the soft fear in Jaho’s voice at “…la geisha cantera.” Gleaming tops as she moved on to the despairing cries of “Morta! Morta!” Bidding farewell to the Consul, she describes the baby’s name “…Gioia mi chiamerò!” with a sustained pianissimo fading into air.

Now comes the agonizing sighting of the ship – a stunning A-sharp on “…Abramo Lincoln!!…” and the brief triumph of her faith, “…sol io che l’amo!” before the cresting, shining ascent on “Ei torna, e m’ama!“

Ms. Jaho’s singing of the Flower Duet, finely blended with Maria Zifchak’s Suzuki, was sweet and silvery, with a shimmering B-flat at “…petali d’ogn fior…” In the quiet monolog that follows, the soprano’s expressive and very personal singing, full of detail, was mesmerizing. The atmospheric Humming Chorus with its enchanting harp was a final passage of peace before Butterfly’s world collapses.

In Act III, Ms. Jaho’s exquisite “Dormi amor mio…” marked her last moments of hope. Then comes the betrayal, the brutal truth: great tension as she made dramatic use of her lower range, asking Suzuki if Pinkerton is still alive. Overwhelming sadness as she contemplates her fate and the surrender of her son. Chilling pauses sustain the dramatic atmosphere before the bleakly poignant “Sotto il gran ponte del cielo…”

Powerfully, Butterfly dismisses Suzuki, and in a numbed voice of tragic accents Ms. Jaho reads the inscription on the knife blade: “To die with honor when one can no longer live with honor…” In the crushing agony of her final moments, Ms. Jaho’s searing cry of “Amore…addio…addio, piccolo amor!” demolished me completely.

In Roberto Aronica (Pinkerton) and Roberto Frontali (Sharpless), strong and wonderfully idiomatic vocalism carried the day. During their exchanges in Act I, the two Italians delighted in the words, and neither was daunted in the least by the volume that rose at times from the pit.

Mr. Aronica lets the music flow; it’s a big sound which rises vibrantly to the upper notes. One might have thought him mismatched to Ms. Jaho’s lighter sound in the love duet, but Mr. Aronica sang lyrically here, turning up the volume when a solo moment came his way. The sweet urging of his “…ancor non m’hai detto che m’ami!” gave way to the reassurance that  “…love doesn’t kill!…” (There he’s wrong, as it turns out.) As the duet moved to its climax, the tenor’s increasing rapture buoyed the soprano’s soaring gleam.

In Act III, the Aronica’s singing in both the great trio (my favorite passage in the entire opera) and in the heartrending remorse of “Addio, fiorito asil” was generous and moving.

It’s silly and juvenile, though, that audiences tend to boo mean or nasty characters when they take their bows. The opera’s over: if the singer has done a good job, what’s the point of booing? 

Mr. Frontali was an excellent Sharpless, one of the most touching roles created by Puccini for male singer. Sharpless foresees disaster, but once it happens he is helpless to stem the destructive tide. Mr. Frontali’s rich tone and very expressive way with the words made his every phrase important. In Act I his launching of the beautiful “O amico fortunato…!” was superb, as was his prophetic “Badate! Ella ci crede!” (“Be careful! She believes in you!“)

In Act II, Mr. Frontali and Ms. Jaho  made the Letter Scene the key element of the opera that it should be. The baritone’s sudden impatience with Butterfly’s steadfastness erupts at (“Ebbene, che fareste, Madama Butterfly…s’ei non dovesse ritornar più mai?“): the last words, thundered out, were shocking: I’ve never heard it done that way. Frontali’s goodbye to Butterfly’s son was another cause for heartache.

In that great Act III trio, all is made clear. Sharpless’s prophecy was accurate, Pinkerton too late recognizes his tragic thoughtlessness, and Suzuki is left to deal with the damage, knowing the path Butterfly will take. Maria Zifchak is the Met’s go-to Suzuki, and she turned in yet another very fine performance of the role today. With magnificent support from the orchestra, these three singers produced a vocal buildup of passion, regret, and despair made a thrilling impact.

The opera’s smaller roles were all done well today. Tony Stevenson was a more musical Goro than some, putting emphasis on the notes rather than on the ‘character’ aspects of the marriage broker’s music. Stefan Szkafarowsky was a dramatic Bonze, and I enjoyed hearing baritone Hyung Yun again: he sang handsomely as Yamadori. If only Butterfly had accepted Yamadori’s proposal! Paul Corona (Commissioner) and Edyta Kulczak (Kate Pinkerton, the ‘innocent cause’ of Butterfly’s tragedy) both did well.

Her extremely moving performance today made me wonder why Ms. Jaho has not sung at The Met with greater frequency: aside from a single Violetta in 2008, these Butterflies are her only Met appearances to date. The audience seemed truly taken with her this afternoon, and I especially loved her warm embrace of Ms. Zifchak during the curtain calls. 

Overall, the afternoon left me emotionally exhausted, and that’s exactly what an operatic performance should do.

~ Oberon

(Fetching a story about Maria K’s farewell to New York City Ballet from Oberon’s Grove and placing it here, on the Glade, so I’ll always know where to find it.)

Click on each image to enlarge:

Above: Maria Kowroski in Balanchine’s DIAMONDS; photo by Paul Kolnik

Peter Martins said of Maria Kowroski that her elevation to the rank of principal ballerina at New York City Ballet was “inevitable” from day one. And it happened so fast: she joined the Company as an Apprentice in 1994 and five years later attained the Principal designation. I feel so fortunate to have been there from the start, watching her career unfold.

Over the passing seasons, Maria’s performances have radiated with the distinctive glow that is the trademark of a great ballerina. Her range has been vast: she excelled as the a witty Girl in Green in DANCES AT A GATHERING, as a leggy Broadway babe in SLAUGHTER ON TENTH AVENUE, in the stately adagio of SYMPHONY IN C, as the sleek temptress in PRODIGAL SON, as an iconic Swan Queen (in both the Balanchine and Martins productions), as the wryly hilarious “hat girl” in THE CONCERT, as a magnificent Firebird, as a spectacular Red Angel in Ulysses Dove’s ballet of that title, as an ideal Titania in MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM, and as a triple treat in JEWELS, wherein she was equally gorgeous in each “act” : Emeralds, Rubies, and Diamonds. She looked as stunning in such leotard ballets as AGON and STRAVINSKY VIOLIN CONCERTO as in the be-jeweled gowns of LIEBESLIEDER WALTZES and VIENNA WALTZES.

Watch Maria in motion in the AGON pas de deux with Amar Ramasar here, scrolling down the page once the link opens.

Maria and Ask la Cour perform the pas de deux from Christopher Wheeldon’s AFTER THE RAIN at sunrise on a September morning in lower Manhattan. Watch here.

Here is a Maria K gallery:

As the Firebird

As The Siren in PRODIGAL SON; a Paul Kolnik photo

Maria’s great partnership with Charles Askegard (above in SERENADE), who made the leap from ABT to NYC Ballet to dance with her, brought forth some of her most thrilling performances. I especially loved their dancing together in Helgi Tomasson’s PRISM.

Maria in AGON with Albert Evans

In AGON with Jock Soto; photo by Richard Termine

Dancing with Edwaard Liang for Christopher Wheeldon’s Morphoses in Central Park; photo by Kokyat…

…and with Jason Fowler at Vail; photo by Erin Baiano.

MOZARTIANA with Philip Neal

A once-in-a-lifetime pairing of Maria Kowroski and the Joffrey Ballet’s magnifique Fabrice Calmels, for the Monterrey International Dance Festival in 2014.  

With Ask la Cour in AFTER THE RAIN

After VIENNA WALTZES, with Amar Ramasar, Sterling Hyltin, and Gonzalo Garcia; Amar, Sterling, and Gonzalo performed at Maria’s gala this afternoon

Maria with Tyler Angle in SWAN LAKE; a Paul Kolnik photo

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For her farewell program his afternoon, Maria chose pieces by Balanchine, Wheeldon, and Bigonzetti; the Company performed my favorite Jerome Robbins ballet: OPUS 19/THE DREAMER.

A scene from Balanchine’s CHACONNE opened the performance, with Maria and Russell Janzen in the principal roles. Clothilde Otranto was on the podium, beginning a game of ‘pass the baton’ which continued through the afternoon. Special kudos to flautist Scott Kemsley for his exquisite playing; he deserves a credit in the Playbill. A roar of applause and bravas greeted Maria’s entrance; she and Russell danced with a deep sense of lyricism.

Andrews Sill then took up the baton for the atmospheric OPUS 19/THE DREAMER, which Sterling Hyltin and Gonzalo Garcia danced so beautifully. Kurt Nikkanen played the Prokofiev 1st violin concerto splendidly – it’s such a great piece of music! – and Mr. Kemsley and harpist Sara Cutler added their artistry to this musical highlight of the day. In the opening passage of the ballet, Gonzalo was simply mesmerizing; this is a perfect role for him, and Sterling was the perfect partner. Bravi!!

Maestro Andrew Litton now joined the festivities to conduct an excerpt from Christopher Wheeldon’s DANSE A GRANDE VITESSE which was danced by Maria with Tyler Angle. Tyler, his head now shaved, has always been a terrific partner for Maria, and so it was great to see them together again tonight. The couple make a spectacular entrance here, Maria in a stunning overhead lift: the crowd went wild. Propulsive music (by Michael Nyman) set the excerpt on its way; later, the music takes on a hymn-like feeling, and then becomes animated. It ends with Maria again aloft. As the curtain fell, a gigantic ovation erupted; after a couple of bows, the lights came up but the audience continued to cheer for another minute or two, not realizing that Maria was changing her costume for…

…AMARIA, a pièce d’occasion created by choreographer Mauro Bigonzetti, which celebrates the partnership of Maria Kowroski and Amar Ramasar; the dancers’ first names are enshrined in the ballet’s title. Onstage, pianist Craig Baldwin played Scarlatti sonatas. Each dancer has a solo, then join in a rather restless duet. The mood overall is darkish and somber. Their bows together were extremely moving for me; they seem to be two dancers who have always been there for each other.

Balanchine’s SLAUGHTER ON TENTH AVENUE, one of the few ballets by the Master that I can’t stand, closed the show. The recently-retired Ask la Cour made a brief comeback to honor his long-time colleague, Maria, at her farewell. Tyler Angle and Daniel Applebaum took the other leading roles. The ballet looks terribly dated and corny now, though it gives us the chance to revel in the gorgeous Kowroski gams. The music is so annoying; I couldn’t wait for it to end. But the rest of the audience greeted the piece – and then the bowing ballerina – deliriously. 

And so we bade farewell to the inimitable Maria Kowroski. Many of her partners – past and recent – joined the long parade of friends presenting her with bouquets and embraces. The last to appear were Maria’s husband with their young son…and again, the audience went nuts.

As the prolonged ovation – the volleys of bravas, the golden streamers falling about her, the enthusiastic and very genuine admiration from her colleagues – swept on, countless visions of the great ballerina in her many wonderful roles danced by in my head.

But one memory that has always lingered in my mind had nothing to do with Maria’s actual dancing. One evening a few years ago, Wei and I were at the Metropolitan Opera House for an ABT performance. During the intermission, we came out from the auditorium and noticed a commotion at the foot of the grand staircase. We walked over, and there was Maria in a stunning cream-coloured gown, be-jeweled and elegantly coiffed. She was graciously accepting compliments and signing autographs when a woman approached with her tiny daughter, who might have been all of three years old. The child, who was simply fascinated by the tall ballerina standing before her, didn’t say a word, but – prompted by her mother – held out her playbill for Maria to sign. Maria knelt down and spoke quietly to the girl, and signed her name. When she stood up, the girl remained totally transfixed. It was such a charming moment.

~ Oberon

(Farewells at New York City Ballet are always special, and Sterling’s was one of the most memorable. I’ve saved this article from Oberon’s Grove…the performance took place in 2022.)

Above: Sterling Hyltin as the Sugar Plum Fairy in Balanchine’s NUTCRACKER

Author: Oberon

Sunday December December 4th, 2022 – Today we bade farewell to one of New York City Ballet‘s loveliest stars: Sterling Hyltin. A native of Texas, Sterling joined the Company in 2003, and four years later she attained the rank of Principal: such a rapid ascent!

Among the many ballets in which Sterling has moved and delighted me over the years are Balanchine’s APOLLO, BRAHMS-SCHOENBERG QUARTET, COPPELIA, DUO CONCERTANT, NUTCRACKER (she excelled both as Sugar Plum and Dewdrop), LIEBESLIEDER WATZES, MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM (she was a perfect Hermia, and I wish she had done Titania!), RUBIES in JEWELS (where she scintillated, but could we not have had her in EMERALDS as well?), SCOTCH SYMPHONY, LA VALSE, and the Stravinsky “leotard” ballets.

In the Robbins repertoire, she was particularly luminous in AFTERNOON OF A FAUN, DANCES AT A GATHERING, OPUS 19/THE DREAMER, and IN THE NIGHT; and she displayed a gift for comedy in THE CONCERT. She danced the lead in the Peter Martins productions of SWAN LAKE and SLEEPING BEAUTY, and created the role of Juliet in the premiere of the Martins ROMEO & JULIET. Sterling has also danced in ballets by Wheeldon, Ratmansky, Millepied, and Justin Peck. 

Here is a collection of images of Sterling in some of her most-admired roles; click on each photo to enlarge:

SYMPHONY IN THREE MOVEMENTS, with Amar Ramasar; photo by Pau Kolnik

As Aurora in SLEEPING BEAUTY

RUBIES, with Gonzalo Garcia; photo by Paul Kolnik

As Odette in SWAN LAKE; photo by Paul Kolnik

In SYMPHONY IN THREE MOVEMENTS, with Taylor Stanley; photo by Paul Kolnik

DUO CONCERTANT with Robbie Fairchild

In Robbins’ DANCES AT A GATHERING with Tyler Angle; photo by Erin Baiano

With Robbie Fairchild in STRAVINSKY VIOLIN CONCERTO

With Gonzalo Garcia in Robbins’ OPUS 19/THE DREAMER

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

It was as the Sugar Plum Fairy that Sterling made her farewell appearance today. Rarely does a dancer at NYC Ballet make her farewell dancing a complete role in a full-length ballet. But Sterling’s Sugar Plum is a role closely identified with her, and it made for a perfect way for her to take leave of the Company. 

The performance got off to an exhilarating start with Andrew Litton’s fresh take on the overture; the layers of orchestral ‘voices’ were clearer than ever, and notably, the violas had a chance to shine. The curtain then rose on a performance in which only a very few of the dancers were familiar to me; this in contrast to the days when I was going to NYC Ballet often and knew every single person on the stage.

In the party scene, Mary Elizabeth Sell as a lovely Frau Stahlbaum and Sean Suozzi’s mercurial Drosselmeyer were the only people I recognized. When the guests had departed, from the pit came the ravishing sound of Kurt Nikkanen’s violin, playing the entr’acte as sweetly as he has done so many times for me thru the years. Bravo! 

As the Battle of the Mice was won (and lost), a long stretch of my favorite music in the score commenced, the orchestra playing sumptuously as the Stahlbaum’s drawing room became a snowy landscape. Not a single Snowflake did I recognize, but I must here mention Titus Landegger’s elegant performance as the Nutcracker Prince: the noblest interpretation of the role since Austin Bachman’s.

During the intermission, I re-connected with some of my longtime ballet buddies, and then we returned to our seats to await Sterling Hyltin’s entrance. A thrilling roar of applause greeted the blonde beauty as she wafted onto the stage, the very epitome of grace. The Sugar Plum Fairy’s solo could be considered Sterling’s signature piece: her musicality and nuanced delivery of every step seem to define the word “ballerina”.

In the various dances that follow, I was again reminded of how out of touch I am with the current roster of dancers: only Gil Bolden III (Mother Ginger), Harrison Coll – a fantastic Candy Cane – and Indiana Woodward as a scintillating Dewdrop were was familiar to me.

Leading off with Hot Chocolate were the lively pairing of Jacqueline Bologna and Victor Abreu; Mr. Abreu was stepping into role this evening, and he made a handsome cavalier. Alexa Maxwell was a lithe and sultry Arabian seductress, Sebastian Villarini-Velez a spirited Tea, and Olivia MacKinnon a charming Marzipan. Mr. Bolden’s Mother Ginger was a hit, followed by a Waltz of the Flowers in which not a single flower was known to me.

Now Sterling and her cavalier, Andrew Veyette, took the stage for the pas de deux; the entire audience seemed to be holding its collective breath as we watched Sterling in this iconic adagio for the last time. Her two dazzling flights to Andrew’s shoulder drew delighted screams from the packed house, and she polished off her triumph with a perfect balance. The couple then swept on to the allegro, brilliantly executed, finishing to a torrent of applause and bravos.  

After the normal curtain calls, Sterling appeared onstage alone. The crowd went wild, of course, and then she rushed to the side of the stage and slipped off to greet Peter Martins, who was seated near the front of the orchestra section.. Clambering back onto the stage, Sterling greeted colleagues and friends, one by one or in small groups, as the applause rolled on. She seemed to take her time with each person; among the parade were the much-loved Maria Kowroski and Robbie Fairchild, and the recently-retired Gonzalo Garcia. At last, Sterling’s husband and tiny, adorable daughter came on.

Sterling then took her final bows – we did not want to let her go! – and then made a lovely farewell manège, finishing off with her trademark grand jeté. The house exploded in another round of cheers.

A few years ago, the morning after Sterling had danced one of her many Sugar Plums, she posted a charming story on Facebook. She has just made her entrance and was about to move downstage when one of the petite angels looked up at her and said, “You are so beautiful!”  

~ Oberon

(Rescued this from the soon-to-disappear Oberon’s Grove. And speaking of rescues, that’s what Lisette Oropesa did that evening: she flew in from Europe to replace an ailing Nadine Sierra.)

Above: Johannes Brahms

Author: Oberon

Thursday June 15th, 2023 – The Met Orchestra in concert at Carnegie Hall. The centerpiece of the evening was the Brahms REQUIEM, in which soloists Lisette Oropesa (stepping in for Nadine Sierra) and Quinn Kelsey joined the Met chorus and orchestra. This was preceded by the New York premiere of Oraison, by the Cuban composer Luis Ernesto Peña Laguna. Yannick Nézet-Séguin, the Met’s Music Director, was on the podium.

If anyone had told me a week ago that I’d be sitting in Carnegie Hall tonight, listening to one of the dearest friends I have ever had sing Brahms, I would have have rolled my eyes in disbelief. But on Sunday came a message from Madrid, and on Tuesday Lisette Oropesa was sitting opposite me at our old haunt, Pain Quotidien, where we spent endless hours – talking, laughing…and sometimes weeping – when she was a Met Young Artist.

I will never forget hearing Lisette’s voice for the first time: in a tiny role in Mozart’s IDOMENEO. I contacted her, met her, and we quickly became fast friends. She is a true kindred spirit, a radiant light in an often dismal world. It seemed inevitable from that first moment that her career would skyrocket; and it did, much to my delight. The only problem with that is that sometimes months pass without my seeing her. But it makes the times when we meet all the more special.

Above: composer Luis Ernesto Peña Laguna

As music goes, the evening’s highlight for me was the piece by Luis Ernesto Peña Laguna. Oraison is a work that moved me from note one: a gentle heartbeat from the timpani and very soft singing from the chorus (including whisperings) drew me in right away, as did sound of the inevitable word “Miserere” – something we are all in need of.

The women’s voices blend with the harp and a lovely flute/oboe/clarinet motif. Plucking celli and dense choral harmonies lend a pensive air, and then the male voices take over, and the music becomes more ominous. Trumpet calls summon a triumphant passage before the heartbeat timpani resumes. The choir by now is sounding simply celestial, but darkness hovers: with dolorous celli and the eternal timpani beat, the voices fade to whispers and – finally – to the sound of breathing.

The composer, a dapper gentlemen, rose in the audience to very warm applause. Now I will go in search of more of his music, whilst imagining what sort of opera or song cycle he could write for Ms. Oropesa.

Tonight was only my second ‘live‘ experience of the Brahms REQUIEM; over time, the music of Brahms has lost much of its appeal for me (aside from the Alto Rhapsody, of which I never tire) and while the REQUIEM abounds in sheer gorgeousness, I can’t connect to it emotionally on the same level as I do to the Verdi or Mozart settings, which transcend mere beauty and take us on a true spiritual journey. And so tonight, as this this flood of music washed over me, I became curiously bored.

While the score was marvelously played by the Met musicians and sung spectacularly by the Met chorus, Yannick Nézet-Séguin on the podium seemed to be doing everything he could to make the evening all about himself…to the extent of hiding the vocal soloists among the strings, just as he did to Pretty Yende when she sang the Mahler 4th for him. Maybe in time he will outgrow this need for drawing attention to himself; probably not in my lifetime, though.

Both Lisette and baritone Quinn Kelsey sounded wonderful in their solos, and the audience surely deserved the chance to enjoy their singing – and to actually see them! – under better circumstances. Even at the end, during a prolonged and tumultuous ovation, Yannick would not bring the singers forward for bows, which is the very least he could have done.

After several “curtain calls”, we went up to the greenroom, which has completely changed since the last time I was there – years ago, visiting Evelyn Lear and Martina Arroyo after a gala. Gone is the signature wallpaper; it’s much more spacious and relaxed. And so we fell into a very long conversation with Lisette, her mom, and a couple of other friends, whilst a lovely minder who had been assigned to the soprano kept watch over us but never made us feel rushed.

It was well after an hour since the concert had ended when we left via the stage door, only to find a crowd of fans who had patiently waited for Lisette. With typical generosity, she took time with every single person, and posed for endless photos, whilst her mom and I looked on proudly.    

~ Oberon

Sunday September 21^st, 2025 matinee – My 2025-2026 opera/concert/dance season opened with a bang this afternoon at The Joyce, where the dancers and musicians of Indigenous Enterprise were giving their final performance of a week-long run. The packed house responded vociferously to each number, and the afternoon ended with a thunderous standing ovation and screams of delight from the audience as the participants took their bows.

When we moved up to Inwood in 2003, I began spending a lot of time in the beautiful park two blocks away. There I found a rock which marked the spot where a venerable tree had stood for decades. It was in the shade of this tree that the Dutch are thought to have purchased Manhattan from the Lenape Indians. The location of the transaction is often disputed, but in my romantic heart, I’ll stick with the idea. It’s clear that the native peoples hunted the forests of northern Manatus, and whenever I am hiking up the wooded path and under the Henry Hudson Bridge and down to the river, or gazing out at Spuyten Duyvil, I imagine I hear their hunting cries and bird calls. If it’s a dream, don’t want nobody to wake me.

So my fascination with that story,  and with the beautiful day when Kokyat and I were out photographing and I discovered the discovered the poignant “We Are Still Here” poster (at the top of this article) stuck on a graffitti-covered wall, I have kept these timelessly beautiful people in my mind.

Today, at the Joyce, we learned a great deal about the various Native American dance-styles that were shown as the all-too-brief hour sped by: the Fancy Dance, the Jingle Dance, the Grass Dance, the Smoke Dance, and the Hoop Dance. The dancers were Desirae Redhouse, Dezi Tootoosis, Kenneth Shirley, Josiah Enriquez, Jamaal Jones, Manny Hawley, Logan Booth, Jackson Rollingthunder, as well as a young woman from the Seneca Nation – whose name I didn’t catch – who did a lovely, swirling Smoke Dance. Drummers on the soundtracks (drumming being the heartbeat of the native peoples) included the Northern Cree, Calling Eagle, The Descendants, Wild Band of Comanches (!), and Blazing Bear. Mind-boggling rhythms supported the cacophony of celebrant voices, and a trio of onstage musicians – Daisy Jopling (violin), Adrian Thomas (flute), and Tristan Field (guitar) – were excellent, though they could have played much more…in fact, the entire show seemed way too short: another half-hour would have been more than welcome. On top of all this, there were the magnificent, elaborate costumes.

Central to the production is an animated film: a touching story of a grandfather introducing his young grandson to the various styles of dancing whilst adding stories of his own youthful dancing days, and of courting the boy’s grandma.  When the boy’s mom comes to pick up her son, she finds that her father his given the boy a drum of his own: this is how the old traditions are kept alive. Lovely as the animated story-telling film was, I think it could be even more touching made into a film with real, human actors.

Later, films are shown as the back-drop to a Grass Dance duet; on the screen, dancers from years long past suddenly fade out and vanish: a reminder of the spirit world that summons us all away in time. At the start of the perfomance, dance and drumming were spoken of as a way of evoking our ancestors. As the years speed ever onward, we want to keep such meaningful traditions alive, passing memories from generation to generation.

As with most dance productions, there is inevitably one performer who makes a particularly vivid impression: this afternoon, a stand-out in an outstanding gathering of artists was a Hoop Dancer named Josiah Enriquez (photo above). This 22-year-old has mastered the art of Hoop Dancing, and his solo near the end of the show, in which he managed six hoops with immaculate skill, brought down the house. 

~ Oberon  

…why this blog seems so randomly organized , it’s because the job of moving articles from my original blog, Oberon’s Grove, to the current one – Oberon’s Glade – became more complicated than expected.

A friend helped me to roll several years of stories from the Grove onto the Glade, but in scrolling thru the results, I found many entries that I especially enjoyed writing had not made the trip.

Currently, I am doing a copy-and-paste project to save some of these ‘missing’ entries that have special meaning for me. I only have a few more days remaining before the Grove disappears.

Meanwhile, the 2025-2026 opera/concert/dance season has started and my first review of the current season will be posted shortly. And then, on September 27th, I have my first opera of the season at The Met. After that, things should resume the usual chronological format.

Meanwhile, thanks for reading…

~ Oberon

(Still transferring individual articles from Oberon’s Grove to the Glade. There’s only a few more days before the Grove will shut down.)

January 13th and 14th, 2024 matinees – Back-to-back Puccini matinees at The Met: Saturday was the classic Zeffirelli BOHEME, and Sunday was the Minghella BUTTERFLY.

The BOHEME, which played to a packed House, was overall a satisfying performance, though it could have been so much more with an inspired conductor. Marco Armiliato fits in well with the current Met trend for “loud and fast”; he managed, at various points, to nearly drown out even such hefty voices as Adam Plachetka’s and Krzysztof Bączyk’s, whilst the lighter voices in the cast were left to fend for themselves. Loud, punctuating brass accents seem to be the stock in trade of most of the Met’s conductors these days. I guess they think this makes the operas more exciting. 

At any rate, the BOHEME was strongly cast, down to the clear-toned Parpignol of Gregory Warren and the hearty Benoit/Alcindoro of veteran baritone Donald Maxwell. Kristina Mkhitaryan had a success with Musetta’s Waltz, and capped the ensuing ensemble with a Met-sized top B. She also made something of the character’s kindness as she prayed for her friend Mimi in the opera’s final moments.

The quartet of Bohemians were vocally distinctive, having fun with their scenes of camaraderie but also showing the necessary vocal appeal when Puccini hands them melodies to sing. Rodion Pogossov’s darkish timbre made the most of all of Schaunard’s music: odd that the composer does not give the musician in the story an aria of his own. But Mr. Pogossov managed to turn his Act I narrative into something of vocal importance…and he was warmly cheered at his curtain call. The impressive Polish basso Krzysztof Bączyk was an outstanding Colline; his ‘Coat Aria’  was poetically sung…and very moving.

Adam Plachetka’s Marcello was another winning role for the tall and lovable Czech singer; he has become a Met favorite…one who gains new fans whenever he sings. The voice today was ample, warm, and congenial, billowing forth in the ensemble ‘encore’ of Musetta’s waltz tune in Act II, and making his scene with Mimi in Act III a vocal highlight of the day. 

Stephen Costello’s Rodolfo ranks with the finest I have heard. Poetry pervades everything that Stephen sings: his Italian diction and sense of the flow of the words were a joy to experience all afternoon. He never throws a line away. Example: his hauntingly quiet observation “Che viso d’amalata…” as he tries to revive the fainted Mimi in Act I casts a long shadow over events to come. 

Stephen’s “Che gelida manina” was magical; so ardent and so ideally phrased and coloured. When Armiliato encroached on the dreamy atmosphere the tenor had established, Stephen stuck to his guns. His top-C was spine-tingling, and what a gorgeous pianissimo finish with “Vi piaccia dir!”  The love duet was superb, capped by a sustained and steady joint top-C with Ms. Stikhina. 

Mr. Costello continued to make every phrase of his role memorable; his singing as he introduced Mimi to his comrades at the Cafe Momus was filled with shining pride, and as he struggled in Act III to tell Marcello why he wanted to leave Mimi, his despair was palpable. The Act IV duet for tenor and baritone was gorgeously sung, though here again the conducting was lacklustre. 

Stephen Costello was apparently celebrating his 100th Met performance this afternoon, and at his solo bow he was pelted with carnations: a fitting finish to his luminous performance.  

Above: Elena Stikhina

Ms. Stikhina was for me the unknown quantity in the afternoon’s performance, and I am happy to say that it only took a line or two for me to be seduced by the unusual chiaroscuro qualities of her voice – a voice that speaks well in the big House. Her “Mi chiamano Mimi“ was full of enticing colours, with a sense of rapture at “...ma quando vien lo sgelo…” that was delightful to hear. Mr. Costello launched the love duet “O soave fanciulla...” fervently, and then the soprano came in big: a spinto outpouring. Their joint high-C  pleased the audience with its clarity…and duration.

The soprano’s melodious singing filled each of Mimi’s lines in the Momus scene, and then she and Mr. Plachetka sang richly in their great duet at the Barrière d’Enfer. Ms. Stikhina’s ‘Addio‘ was tenderly sung, using a nice mix of dynamics; the act’s concluding quartet was spoilt somewhat by the over-playing of the orchestra.

Ms. Stikhina’s simple, touching “Sono andante” in the final scene progressed to the tragic expression of her eternal love for Rodolfo; and her soft, sighing repeat of “Che gelida manina” made a poignant end to this sad love story. 

BOHEME is one of the two remaining Met productions where the curtain calls are taken before the once-iconic Great Gold Curtain.

The soprano won a vociferous ovation at her solo bow; I went to the stage door, specifically to meet Ms. Stikhina…and she’s a lovely lady…and very kind.

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The next day, I was back for the BUTTERFLY; this time, my score desk was on the ‘even’ side of the House. The first several minutes of the performance were spoilt by people up in my area stumbling around in the darkness, trying to find their seats. It wasn’t until the arrival of Sharpless that everyone had settled in.

Later, there was one charming moment when a lone stagehand came out during the intermission to vacuum up the cherry blossoms that were strewn onstage during the love duet, winning a round of applause when the job was done.  

Derrick Inouye was on the podium this afternoon, for the most part keeping the orchestral volume level under control; the multi-hued beauty of Puccini’s orchestration could be savoured whilst the voices emerged clearly. There were a few bloopers from the players, most likely due to mid-season fatigue.

The cast was uniformly fine, down to the fleeting but essential roles of the Commissioner (Christopher Job), the Registrar (Christian Jeong), and Kate Pinkerton (Edyta Kulzak); Robert Pomakov was a strong-voiced Bonze, and Jeongcheol Cha an impressive Yamadori.  Tony Stevenson was the excellent, voicey Goro.

Baritone Davide Luciano as Sharpless (above, in the letter scene with Ms. Kurzak) deployed his resonant, darkly handsome voice to superb effect as the kind-hearted US Consul, whose prophetic lines in Act I go unheeded. What a great pleasure to hear this singer’s opulent voicing of the role in his native tongue, making the character’s music essential. 

Knowing the despair that will ensue when he brings Pinkerton and his American wife to Butterfly’s refuge, Mr. Luciano caught all the drama of the situation with his attempts to iron things out, but to no avail. He upbraids Pinkerton, who rushes away, leaving the Consul to deal with the consequences. Mr. Luciano’s thoughtful portrayal and bountiful voice won a volley of bravos when he took his bow at the end.

Elizabeth DeShong (above, with Ms. Kurzak) as the faithful Suzuki sang splendidly  Her large, rich voice easily covers the range from a strong top to a glorious chest voice, so that every note and phrase of Suzuki’s role became something to cherish. Her harmonizing in the Flower Duet was simply gorgeous. Then, as fate closes in on her mistress, everything Suzuki says and does becomes essential to the drama: she immediately grasps who Kate Pinkerton is and knows in a flash how things will turn out, as her deeply felt “Che giova?” tells us.

Ms. DeShong joined Matthew Polenzani and Davide Luciano in making their trio a highlight of the afternoon: they simply poured their hearts into the music. But Ms. DeShong still had more heartache to sing of: her “Piangerò tanto…tanto!” is devastating, and her very last desperate line – “Resto con voi!” – is cruelly dismissed by Butterfly, who is summoning the steely resolve to end her own life. Ms. DeShong was  magnificent, and she rightly drew a fervent reaction from the crowd at her bow.

Matthew Polenzani (above, with Ms. Kurzak in a Ken Howard/MET Opera photo) today sang what might be considered opera’s most thankless leading role: Benjamin Franklin Pinkerton. No matter how well you sing it, the audience is going to hold your cruelty to Butterfly against you; sure enough, after Mr. Luciano and Ms. DeShong had basked in a sea of acclaim during the curtain calls, the decibel level decreased noticeably when Mr. Polenzani appeared for his bow. But this was in no way a reflection on his performance.

He had sung very well indeed, bringing a perfect blend of tenderness and passion to his vocalism. The topmost notes sailed out over the orchestra, but as he started “Addio, fiorito asil” a hushed and anguished tinge of regret seeped into his tone. So expressive. Earlier, in the opera’s 20-minutes of ecstasy – the Act I  Love Duet – Mr. Polenzani and Ms. Kurzak found a beautiful blend of timbres, whilst the poetry of romance flowed sweetly from their lips. Butterfly’s fears are overcome by the ardent, urgent words her beloved sings to her.

Aleksandra Kurzak (above) impressed me with her Tosca at The Met in 2022; she really made something of the role vocally, despite being constantly harassed volume-wise by another Met routinier, Carlo Rizzi. For her Butterfly today,  Ms. Kurzak was in the far more capable hands of Maestro Inouye.

The Kurzak Butterfly caused quite a stir at the Met prima earlier in January, and from note one she seemed to have the ideal blend of vocal weightiness and spun-out legato delicacy to create one of the most memorable Butterflies in my long history with the opera.

Clarity of tone in phrase after sublime phrase made her entrance aria the enthralling experience it should be: “I am come at the call of love!“…what could be more operatic than that? As the act progressed, traces of sharpness sometimes cropped up, but by the Love Duet all was not merely well, but thrilling.

Above: Ms. Kurzak as Butterfly

The soprano’s inspired phrasing of ‘Un bel di’ was captivating, the tone lovingly shaded as she sang of the long-awaited return of her husband. She ended the aria with a stunningly sustained final note, eliciting a burst of bravas. As Act II continued with the consul’s arrival and with a visit from the hopelessly-smitten Prince Yamadori, Ms. Kurzak made girlish, coy replies. But the moment that Sharpless suggests she should consider the Prince’s offer, a dark pall descends.

Now Ms. Kurzak digs in to the drama in no uncertain terms. With her aghast, tortured cry of “Ah! m’ha scordata!”, Butterfly rushes off and returns with her child. “No! Questo mai!“, she cries: she can never return to the life she knew as a geisha.

After a clash with the marriage broker, Goro, Ms. Kurzak embarks on the scene that is the heart of the opera: “Vedrai, piccolo amor!” she reassures the child…his father will come back from across the sea. Suddenly the harbor cannon sounds. There is a tremendous build-up of tension and hope, and at last the soprano unfurls the opera’s killer line: “Ei torna e m’ama!!”  There should have been a torrent of applause and cheers for Ms. Kurzak here.

The flowers are strewn as Butterfly and Suzuki harmonize, and then comes the poignant Humming Chorus as they settle in to wait. Bringing the house lights to 1/4 here really kills the atmosphere: people began to chat, or make a dash for the restroom.

After the atmospheric prelude, and Butterfly’s haunting lullaby (up to a silken top-B), the heart-rending finale unfolds. “Under the great bridge of heaven, there is no happier woman than you…!”, Butterfly tells Kate. The pain now becomes unendurable; Suzuki is cruelly dismissed. Butterfly steels herself, bids an anguised farewell to her adored son, and kills herself with her father’s dagger.

My Butterflies go way back: it was a televised performance of excerpts from the opera sung by Renata Tebaldi first captured my imagination. In fact, it led me to where I am today.

At the Old Met, I chanced to see Licia Albanese’s last Butterfly ever in November 1963. Yet, even before that, I saw a wonderful soprano named Maria di Gerlando in the role in Syracuse, NY. Over the years, Teresa Zylis-Gara, Maralin Niska, Diana Soviero, and Liping Zhang have made outstanding impressions in the role. And now, Aleksandra Kurzak can be counted in the highest echelon.

Production photos by Ken Howard/MET Opera. Click on photos to enlarge.

(A beautiful Autumn day at Storm King with my Malaysian friend, Kokyat. Please click on his images in the story to enlarge them.)

The pillars were salvaged when the mansion (above) was torn down and they eventually came to be a permanent part of the Storm King property. On our visit to the site yesterday, I was particularly intrigued by these Ionic columns which lend an ancient air to the otherwise very 20th-century feel of the Storm King collection. They preside over this 500-acre junction of nature and art with a timeless beauty and mystery.

Click on each image to enlarge:

Made of weathering steel, Charles Ginnever‘s 1979 Prospect Mountain is one of those works that keeps revealing more and more about itself as you move around it. It looked especially striking against the golden leaves of Autumn.

Eight Positive Trees (1977) by Menashe Kadishman are so unobtrusively placed along the side of the walking path that we nearly passed by; but stopping to investigate we found them delightful and Kokyat took many photos from various perspectives. This is one thing about the art at Storm King: the more time you invest in studying each individual work the greater the reward.

This was a favorite of mine: Ursula von Rydingsvard’s For Paul (1990-1992) which appears to have shot up out of the Earth fully formed. Approaching it, it seemed hewn from stone but is in fact made of wood and graphite. It stands about 14 feet high. All day I was telling Kokyat that I regretted there were so many people around because I wanted to have images of the works without a human presence. He kept saying that having people in the pictures would give a perspective as to their size. He was right. As always.  

Alexander Calder’s 1975 The Arch looms up out of the field like a towering Trojan Horse…

…and took on a Darth Vaderish feel when viewed from a different perspective.

The late-afternoon light gave this grove of trees an Impressionistic feeling.

I spent much of the following day looking over the images Kokyat sent me from our Storm King excursion and recalling the pleasure of being with him while he took his time finding the best angles and light.

Above, the ridge at the top end of the Storm King Wall. This construction threads down to the pond, is submerged and then snakes out of the water and up the far hill finally falling to ruin in the forest (photo below). It was one of Kokyat’s favorite aspects of the Storm King landscapes…

Me walking across Maya Lin‘s Wavefield.

My endless gratitude to Kokyat for the images, and for bringing me on this memorable journey north of Manatus.

~ October 2009

(Click on each of the many images to enlarge!)

Above: Megan Fairchild & Joaquin de Luz in Balanchine’s Rubies; photo by Paul Kolnik

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday October 14th, 2018 matinee – This afternoon, ballet lovers from near and far gathered at the House of Mr. B to bid a fond farewell to one of the brightest and best-loved dancers of our day: Joaquin de Luz.

Joaquin was already an established favorite with New York balletomanes from his performances with American Ballet Theatre when, in 1997, the Madrid-born danseur made the leap across the Plaza to join New York City Ballet.

Above: Joaquin with Megan Fairchild in NUTCRACKER; a Paul Kolnik photo

At NYCB, Joaquin formed a partnership with Megan Fairchild, then a fledgling ballerina. They were paired in many ballets, and in the ensuing seasons they developed into one of the New York ballet scene’s favorite dancing duos.

Above: Joaquin with Maria Kowroski in Balanchine’s Midsummer Night’s Dream; photo by Paul Kolnik

Covering a vast repertoire, Joaquin became an indispensable star in a Company that supposedly doesn’t have ‘stars’. His Balanchine rep alone is mind-boggling: Ballo della Regina, Coppélia. Divertimento from ‘Le Baiser de la Fée’, Donizetti Variations, George Balanchine’s The Nutcracker (as Cavalier, Tea, and Candy Cane); Harlequinade (both as Harlequin and Pierrot), A Midsummer Night’s Dream (as Oberon), Prodigal Son, Raymonda Variations,”Rubies” from Jewels, La Source, Sonatine, Symphony in C (Third Movement), Tarantella,Theme and Variations, Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux, and Valse-Fantaisie.

Especially admired for his sparkling virtuosity and lively stage presence, Joaquin took on a very different role in 2008 – that of the Prodigal Son (above, with Maria Kowroski) – and made it his own. He talks about his journey with this dramatic role here, with some danced highlights here.

Above: in Jerome Robbins’ Dances at a Gathering, with Tiler Peck; a Paul Kolnik photo

From the Robbins catalog, Joaquin made an indelible mark on his roles in The Concert, Dances at a Gathering, Dybbuk, Fancy Free, The Four Seasons (always outstanding in ‘Fall’), Other Dances, and the solo work A Suite of Dances. The last-named work was part of today’s farewell program.

Above: Daniel Ulbicht and Joaquin practice sword-fighting for Romeo and Juliet

Joaquin created the role of Tybalt in Peter Martins’ Romeo and Juliet, and danced the classic roles in Peter’s Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty. It was in a Martins work, Todo Buenos Aires, that Joaquin took his final bows at NYCB this afternoon.

One of my favorite Joaquin creations was in Ratmansky’s Concerto DSCH, a sprightly role with a unique finish.

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A packed house erupted in the first of this afternoon’s many ovations as the curtain rose on Balanchine’s Theme and Variations with Tiler Peck and Joaquin de Luz (above, in a Paul Kolnik photo) center-stage, backed by a bevy of ballerinas. A partnership that always has a particular lustre, Tiler and Joaquin danced gorgeously yet again. After one of his solos, as the house exploded with applause, a woman sitting behind me sighed aloud: “Why is he retiring?”

Watching Theme today provided a sharp reminder to me of how much the Company has changed since I stopped going frequently: so many faces on that stage that I could not put names too. But I was really glad to see Brittany Pollack, radiant as ever among the demis, and Devin Alberda and Aaron Sanz as cavaliers. Two relative newcomers to the corps caught my eye: Gilbert Bolden III and Roman Mejia. The curtain calls after Theme were wonderful, with Joaquin and the corps applauding one another while Tiler beamed.

Following the first intermission, an elegant performance of Concerto Barocco was conducted by Daniel Capps with Arturo Delmoni and Nicolas Danielson as violin soloists. Maria Kowroski and Russell Janzen danced the pas de deux with serene confidence and lovely line, and Abi Stafford was delightful; the two women exchanged sisterly glances as they moved in sync.

As my seat was in the third row, I hadn’t expected to need my opera glasses. But watching the Barocco corps I realized how bad my eyesight’s becoming. Lydia Wellington, Mary Elizabeth Sell, Kristen Segin, Sarah Villwock, and Claire Kretzschmar from my ‘younger days’ were joined by Laine Habony, Miriam Miller, and Mimi Staker in Balanchine’s unique and demanding choreography.

Above: cellist Ann Kim with Joaquin de Luz in Jerome Robbins’ A Suite of Dances. Joaquin relished every step, gesture, and mood of this extended solo today while Ms. Kim brought freshness to the familiar music. The audience could barely contain themselves during the allegro passages, which Joaquin tossed off with devil-may-care charm.

For the finale, Peter Martins’ tango-ballet Todo Buenos Aires (premiered in 2000) was brought back for a single performance. We had liked it in its inaugural season, danced by Julio Bocca with fun roles for Wendy Whelan and Darci Kistler; but it hasn’t held up well. Apart from providing Joaquin with a bravura/sexy vehicle, the choreography doesn’t sustain our interest, even though it was finely danced today by Joaquin with Maria Kowroski, Sara Mearns, Jared Angle, Taylor Stanley, Ask LaCour, and Andrew Veyette. A quintet of musicians onstage played the Piazzolla score impressively.

The curtain fell on this shadowy Argentine nightclub and thunderous applause filled the State Theater. Joaquin bowed humbly, and then there commenced a long procession of well-wishers coming onstage to present flowers and embrace the beloved Spaniard.

The one ‘missing person’ from today’s gala farewell program was Megan Fairchild, who has been Joaquin’s most frequent partner. Ms. Fairchild is about to become a mother – very soon, by the evidence  – and she was vociferously applauded as she appeared onstage during the final ovation to present Joaquin with an enormous bouquet and a warm embrace.

Above: the Fairchild-de Luz partnership in Balanchine’s Donizetti Variations; photo by Paul Kolnik.

As the applause roared on, Gonzalo Garcia and Joaquin staged a mock bullfight; after the City Ballet folks had made their tributes, honored guests filed in – some of whom I did not recognize. Carlos Lopez, Angel Corella, and Sascha Radetsky greeted their former ABT colleague, and Victor Ullate appeared, which clearly meant a lot to Joaquin.

Last to join the celebration was Joaquin’s mom; after a big embrace, they swept into a lively tango of their own. The audience went wild.

Curtain call: Joaquin de Luz faces the roar of the crowd; photo by Flavio Salazar

Aside from his dancing and his sunny disposition, there’s another thing I love about Joaquin: he’s a fellow Rafa Nadal fan. 

~ Oberon

Above: soprano Irène Joachim

I have begun re-reading Prince of Virtuosos, Charles Timbrell’s biography of the pianist Walter Morse Rummel. It was in Peter Kurth’s biography of Isadora Duncan that I first read about Mr. Rummel: he had been Isadora’s music director (and lover) for about three years, starting in 1918. When the pianist took up with one of the “Isadorables”, Anna Duncan, he and Isadora parted company.

It wasn’t until my third or fourth reading of Mr. Kurth’s book that Mr. Rummel’s middle name – Morse – captured my attention. Morse was my mother’s maiden name, and she – like the great pianist – could trace her line back to Samuel F B Morse, inventor of the telegraph. This information made me feel – strangely enough – a mystical connection with Isadora, whose life and danceworks fascinate me. 

Now, taking up the Rummel biography again, I’ve stumbled upon the briefest mention of the pianist’s niece – thru his first marriage to pianist Thérèse Chaigneau – soprano and film actress Irène Joachim. Another bond, however obscure, that the Prince of Virtuosos gives me…this time, within the realm of opera.

Irène Joachim was born in 1913 and, after studying violin and piano, began voice lessons at age 20. She entered (and won) a competition to study at the Conservatoire de Paris; near the end of her time there, Mlle. Joachim recorded some Brahms and Mozart songs.

In 1939, she made her stage debut at the Opéra Comique, where she sang such roles as Marguerite in FAUST, Micaela, and Contessa Almaviva as well as premiering several contemporary operas. In 1940 she took on what was to be her signature role: Debussy’s Mélisande. In 1941, Mlle. Joachim became the first singer to record the complete opera, opposite tenor Jacques Jansen.

Irène Joachim & Jacques Jansen – Pelléas et Mélisande ~ Mes longs cheveux

Her fame increased following the release of this marvelous recording, and she was invited to sing in Berlin for the Nazis in 1942. She declined.

Mlle. Joachim continued her singing career – her 1936 recording of songs by Carl Maria von Weber won the Grand Prix du Disque – and from 1936 to 1959 she appeared in several feature films. Following her retirement, she taught privately, and later became a professor of voice at the Conservatoire de Paris in 1963. She passed away in 2001.

Among her many recordings, Irène Joachim’s exquisite rendering of Schumann’s Mondnacht stands out:

Irène Joachim – Schumann ~ Mondnacht

“It was as though Heaven

Had softly kissed the Earth,

So that she, in a gleam of moonlight,

Had only to dream of him.

The breeze passed through the fields,

The corn swayed gently to and fro,

The forests murmured softly,

The night was aglow with stars.

And my soul spread

Her wings out wide,

and flew across the silent land,

As though flying home.”

~ Oberon