Blog

Lydia Johnson Dance ~ Retrospective

Above: the studio at Battery Dance where Lydia Johnson Dance rehearsed during the first years of our association; photo by Kokyat

It was on a March evening in 2009 that I first encountered the choreography of Lydia Johnson; a press invitation sent to me by publicist Audrey Ross had piqued my curiosity enough to prompt me to go – with my fellow blogger Evan Namerow – to a studio showing by Lydia Johnson Dance.

What I discovered that night was choreography that successfully melded elements of classical ballet and contemporary dance, that had a keen connection to the music, and that – rarest of all – had an emotional resonance that I had found in only a handful of works by current choreographers of the day.

Above: Tucker Ty Davis and Jessica Sand; photo by Julie Lemberger. Tucker and Jessica were among the dancers who appeared in that first-encounter studio event

I can’t remember now the sequence of correspondence between Lydia and myself that led to my being invited, along with my photographer/friend Kokyat, to a rehearsal of Lydia’s company down at the Battery Dance studios. At that time, Kokyat was a dance photographer in the making; he became a master over time. In the ensuing months, he and I spent many hours in that studio – so steeped in the very essence of dance – and we became friends with all the dancers…and with Lydia herself.

Here are some of Kokyat’s photos from those happy days at Battery Dance:

Eric Vlach, Jessica Sand

Lisa Iannacito and Jesse Marks

Jessica Sand

Robert Robinson, Jessica Sand

Jessica Sand

Lisa Iannacito

Laura Di Orio

Kerry Shea

Sean Patrick Mahoney, a guest artist from the Paul Taylor Dance Company, with Jessica Sand

Sarah Pon and Blake Hennessy-York, a young married couple who joined Lydia Johnson Dance and made it their artistic home

Guest artist Sean Patrick Mahoney

Guest artist Max van der Sterre with Kerry Shea

An early rehearsal of SUMMER HOUSE

Laura Di Orio, Kaitlin Accetta

Blake Hennessy-York and the ensemble

A rehearsal of CROSSINGS BY RIVER

Guest artist Max van der Sterre

Celebrating dancer Robert Robinson’s birthday

Lydia Johnson

Now for some of Kokyat’s onstage images of the Lydia Johnson Dance in works we saw in the first two or three seasons of our affiliation:

UNTITLED BACH (Shannon Maynor, Eric Vlach)

SUMMER HOUSE (Laura Di Orio, Robert Robinson)

Dancer Justin Lynch

DREAM SEQUENCE (Jesse Marks, center)

DUSK

END OF THE MOVIE (Erica Schweer, Laura Di Orio)

DUSK (Eric Vlach, Jessica Sand)

UNTITLED BACH (James Hernandez, Laura Di Orio)

IN CONVERSATION (Jessica Sand)

UNTITLED BACH (Robert Robinson, Jesse Marks)

LAMENT

DREAM SEQUENCE (Eric Vlach, Jessica Sand, James Hernandez, Laura Barbee).

IN CONVERSATION (John-Mark Owen, Kerry Shea)

And some studio shots from Oberon:

Robert Robinson, Jessica Sand

SUMMER HOUSE rehearsal: Lisa and Jessica

SUMMER HOUSE rehearsal: Robert, Laura

Lauren Perry

Laura Di Orio

By now, the dancers were used to having Kokyat and I breathing down their necks, so to speak…so much so, that Kokyat was permitted to photograph the Company’s 2011 performance in New York City from backstage.

This first installment covers roughly 2009-2011, with a couple of 2012 images thrown in. I’ll continue this retrospective in a few days – picking up where I left off – when I have had time to gather photos for a second gallery.

~ Oberon

December 29, 2018
Joshua Bell|NY String Orchestra

Above: Joshua Bell

~ Author: Oberon

Friday December 28th, 2018 – Holding forth at Carnegie Hall over the holidays, the New York String Orchestra presented a Christmas Eve concert (which Ben Weaver wrote about here) and then followed up with this evening’s program which brought us Joshua Bell as soloist for the Brahms Violin Concerto, book-ended by George Walker’s Lyric and Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique Symphony.

George Walker‘s Lyric for Strings opened the program. From its very soft opening, this music was drawing us in and clearing our minds of the worries and woes that abound in these troubled times. Guest conductor Karina Canellakis and the young musicians savoured the rich themes, the Romantic Era yet still contemporary-sounding harmonies, the beautiful layering of arching violins and darkish basses. The music quietens, then a new melodic journey commences. After some thoughtful hesitations, the work finds a gentle ending: we are in a tranquil place.

Joshua Bell gave a knockout performance of the Brahms Violin Concerto in D-Major, Op. 77. The concerto’s first movement (Allegro non troppo) is especially rich in themes; following a unison opening passage, the music becomes quite grand. An excellent contingent of wind players joined the ensemble. Joshua Bell’s intense playing – and his feel for the dramatic – found a counterpoise in the ravishing sheen of his highest range, his pinpoint dynamic control, and his pliantly persuasive phrasing.

A recurring theme, which make us think of springtime, found the violinist at his most lyrical, while in the demanding cadenza, Mr. Bell’s masterful dispatching of flurries of notes covering a vast range reached its end with a shimmering trill. The movement’s final measures were sublime.

The winds set the mood of the Adagio. A marvelous oboe solo and – later – an impressive passage of bassoon playing – fell sweetly on the ear. Mr. Bell’s silken sounds in the upper register cast a spell over the hall, his exquisite control giving me chills of delight. In his mixture of passion and refinement, the music seemed so alive. Without pause, Maestro Jaime Laredo took us directly into the final movement; here, in the familiar theme, the rhythmic vitality of the orchestra and Mr. Bell’s bravura playing combined to winning effect.

A full-house standing ovation greeted Joshua Bell’s stunning performance; hopes for an encore had the audience calling him back for repeated bows. But perhaps he felt that nothing really could follow the Brahms, especially after such a thrilling rendition.

Following the interval, several alumni of the New York String Orchestra joined the current ensemble for a tonally lush rendering of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 6, Pathétique. Among these alumni were several of today’s finest artists – people like violinist Pamela Frank, violist Steven Tennenbom, cellists Peter Wiley and Nicholas Canellakis, bass player Timothy Cobb, and clarinetist Anthony McGill. These musicians did not take over the principal chairs from the current players, but simply joined the ranks of the orchestra, seated interspersed among their young colleagues. I can only imagine how inspiring it must be for these emerging musicians to be playing alongside David Kim or Kurt Muroki.

Maestro Laredo crafted a rich-hued, passionate performance, and the musicians played their hearts out. As the symphony unfolded – really impressively played – I found the first two movements to be magnificent in every regard. The Allegro molto vivace – which Tchaikovsky seems to have referred to as a ‘scherzo‘ and which one writer described as “a waltz with a limp” – seemed to go on too long. And as affecting as the final Adagio lamentoso is, there are themes in SWAN LAKE, SLEEPING BEAUTY and the Serenade for Strings that I find far more moving.

Over time, people have sometimes felt that the Adagio lamentoso, with its faltering heartbeat at the end, presages the composer’s death. Within nine days after conducting the first performance of his the epic Sixth, Tchaikovsky would in fact be dead. There are various theories about the cause of the composer’s sudden demise: cholera from drinking tainted water, suicide induced by depression, or a sentence of death imposed on him by a ‘Court of Honor’ when his affair/infatuation with a young nobleman, Prince Vladimir Argutinsky (whose father was a high-placed official in the tsar’s court) came to light. In this third scenario, Tchaikovsky took poison after the Court’s verdict was handed down.

Above: Tchaikovsky with Prince Vladimir Argutinsky

Applause between movements somewhat spoiled the atmosphere tonight, even though after the Allegro non troppo of the Brahms it was understandable that the full house wanted to to applaud Mr. Bell. But premature applause at the end of the Tchaikovsky was a more serious mood breaker.

~ Oberon

December 28, 2018
Irene Dalis as Fricka

The great dramatic mezzo-soprano Irene Dalis in the scene of confrontation between Fricka and Wotan from Act II of Wagner’s DIE WALKURE:

Irene Dalis as Fricka – WALKURE – w Birgit Nilsson & Otto Edelmann – Leinsdorf cond – Met bcast 1961

From her 1957 debut there, Irene Dalis sang some 275 performances with the Metropolitan Opera Company – in New York City and on tour – during her twenty-year Met career. Her greatest roles were The Nurse in DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN and Amneris in AIDA. In 1969, her electrifying performance of Verdi’s Egyptian princess at a concert performance at the Sheep Meadow, Central Park, drew an estimated crowd of 50,000; Dalis’s super-charged singing in the Judgement Scene evoked a thunderous ovation.

Following her retirement from singing, Irene Dalis founded Opera San Jose, which she ran with great success for over two decades.

In August 2007, I wrote an appreciation of Irene Dalis, which she eventually found and read; she sent me a lovely message of thanks.

~ Oberon

December 27, 2018
Christmas Eve @ Carnegie Hall

Above, violinists for Vivaldi: Pamela Frank, Kyoko Takezawa, Bella Hristova, and Jinjoo Cho; photo by Pete Cecchia

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Monday December 24th, 2018 – Christmas Eve at Carnegie Hall was a nearly sold-out performance by the New York String Orchestra, a program organized by the Mannes School of Music each year: its 50th incarnation this year was marked by mayor Bill De Blasio declaring it the New York String Orchestra Day in NYC. Under the baton of Jaime Laredo, the 64-member orchestra, made up of young musicians from around the world (ages 16-23) presented an ambitious program of Mendelssohn, Vivaldi and Beethoven.

Mendelssohn’s popular Hebrides Overture is one of his most famous compositions: the moody, dark opening from the low strings, evoking the churning waves of the ocean, is an instantly recognizable tune. There are several of those in the work, heard by all in numerous commercials and movies over the years. The young musicians, following Maestro Laredo’s relaxed tempo, created an evocative, almost creepy, aural landscape.

Vivaldi’s thrilling Concerto for Four Violins from his famed collection of 12 concertos entitled L’estro armonico, was so admired by J.S. Bach that he transcribed it for four harpsichords. Requiring a quartet of star soloists to pull it off, the New York String Orchestra delivered four with unimpeachable credentials: Jinjoo Cho, Pamela Frank, Bella Hristova, and Kyoto Takezawa. The soloists both compete and complement one another throughout the work. Dazzling displays of virtuosity and unpredictable rhythms of the first movement give way to a yearning slow moments, where the four soloists play by turn in unison and in solo passages, then the fiery finale brings down the curtain. Certainly the four soloists leave nothing to be desired and the orchestra provided thrilling support.

Without stopping for an intermission (a welcome move), the piano was immediately set up for Beethoven’s great Piano Concerto #4 with Yefim Bronfman (above, photo by Pete Cecchia) at the piano. Mr. Bronfman has long been one of our favorite artists on this blog: he a musician of singular musical sensitivity and imagination. His gentle solo introduction of the concerto before the orchestra picks up the melody was like meeting an old friend. Beethoven’s melodies come in waves. Bronfman handles the running scales effortlessly. Maestro Laredo’s expansive tempo was especially rewarding in the Andante con moto movement where Bronfman’s soulful playing could move anyone to tears. Here, too, the young musicians provided wonderful support.

Performance photos by Pete Cecchia, courtesy of Carnegie Hall.

~ Ben Weaver

December 26, 2018
Forgotten Voices: Rudolf Ritter

I came upon the voice of Rudolf Ritter by chance while sampling recordings of different tenors in the music of Verdi’s Otello.

Rudolf Ritter – Otello’s Death ~ OTELLO – in German

Following service in the Austro-Hungarian army (1898-1908), Rudolf Ritter studied singing at the Vienna Music Academy. In 1910 he made his debut at the Volksoper in Vienna, where he sang until 1913; he then joined the Hofoper in Stuttgart, where he made a name for himself as a leading artist for twenty years, singing in world premieres by Braunfels and Zemlinsky as well as the standard repertory.

Ritter joined a touring group, the German Opera Company, in 1923. In North America, he sang at Chicago and in Kienzl’s “Der Evangelimann“ in New York City. He appeared at the Bayreuth Festival from 1924-1930 as Siegfried and Tannhäuser, and in 1926 he scored a major success with performances in South America.

From 1929-1931 season, Ritter was again touring North America with the German Opera Company, along with soprano Johanna Gadski. He made guest appearances at London’s Covent Garden, the Paris Opéra, Vienna Staatsoper, and Zurich. In 1927 at the Zoppot Festival, he sang Siegfried in “Götterdämmerung“.

Rudolf Ritter retired from the stage in 1933, settling at Stuttgart where he taught and coached. He was married to the pianist Gret Hein. He passed away in 1966.

Ritter’s rounded, steady tone sounds really good in Wagner:

Rudolf Ritter – Allmächtǵer Vater ~ RIENZI

Rudolf Ritter – Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond ~ WALKURE

~ Oberon

December 25, 2018
The Hopes And Fears Of All The Years

Emmylou Harris ~ O Little Town of Bethlehem

O little town of Bethlehem
How still we see thee lie…
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light…
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.

For Christ is born of Mary
And gathered all above
While mortals sleep, the angels keep
Their watch of wondering love.,
All morning stars together
Proclaim the holy birth
And praises sing to God the King
And Peace to men on earth.

How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming,
But in this world of sin
Where meek souls will receive him still
The dear Christ enters in.

December 24, 2018
Alto Rhapsody

Dunja Vejzovic – Brahms ~ Alto Rhapsody

December 24, 2018
Licia’s Last Butterfly

On Friday, November 26, 1965, I went to a performance of MADAMA BUTTERFLY at the Metropolitan Opera House. On the following day, I had an operatic double-header: a matinee of ELISIR D’AMORE and an evening performance of FAUST. That Saturday marked the last time I ever set foot in the Old Met. The venerable theatre had been marked for demolition, while a New Met was rising at Lincoln Center.

The eight performances I saw at the Old House are very special memories for me. The singers I saw there had become gods and goddesses to me thru their singing on the Texaco Metropolitan Opera radio broadcasts; I was now experiencing ‘live‘ the rituals Milton Cross described each week over the airwaves: the house lights going down, the applause greeting the conductor, the great gold curtain being drawn back for the curtain calls. It was like a dream come true.

Licia Albanese’s was one of the first operatic voices I became familiar with. She was one of the singers on the first 2-LP set of opera arias and duets that I owned. She sang Liu on a memorable Met broadcast of TURANDOT in 1962, opposite Nilsson and Corelli. And my parents had taken me to see her as Violetta (her 100th performance of the role) at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera in 1963.

In all honesty, Albanese’s voice was never really among my favorites; it was more her expressive intensity of communication and her endearing persona that I found appealing. But I understood her importance as a singer in the grand tradition, and if her singing of the Violetta and Butterfly that I saw could turn dry and almost ghostly, I can still vividly recall her stage presence and her instinctive if Olde School acting.

What I did not realize as I watched Licia Albanese taking her bows after that 1965 Butterfly was that it was the final time she ever sang the role. After playing Cio-Cio-San some eighty times on that stage, this was to be the last. Like many performances I have experienced, the evening became iconic over time when measured as part of the singer’s career.

I met La Licia after the performance – I was one of a sizeable group of admirers who had waited for her – and she was of course elegantly gowned and coiffed, chattering away to her fans in Italian. She signed my program with a flourish:

It was a happy crowd of fans and friends, and no mention was made of it being “her last Butterfly”. She did sing one more complete role at The Met: Manon Lescaut; and the following Summer she sang Mimi in LA BOHEME with Barry Morell in a concert presented by The Met at the Newport Festival.

A few days after the performance, I sent her a fan letter and received this photo in return, along with her calling card:

Licia Albanese – Ancora un passo or via ~ MADAMA BUTTERFLY

There were two further memorable moments related to the Old Met and to MADAMA BUTTERFLY in Albanese’s extraordinary life: at the gala farewell concert that marked the closing of the Old Met on April 16th, 1966, Licia sang the aria “Un bel di” and, during the applause, she knelt to place a kiss on the stage where she had appeared so frequently since her debut in 1940:

Once the demolition of the ‘old yellow brewery’ began, Licia donned her kimono and sang “Un bel di” one last time amid the ruins.

But my connection with the legendary diva was not over. One evening during the first season at the New Met, I saw her among the audience on the Grand Tier during intermission. She was talking with another elegantly-gown lady as I approached them hesitantly. The other woman gave me an encouraging smile, so I took Madame Albanese’s hand and awkwardly told her of having seen her Violetta and Butterfly. She thanked me quietly, but kept hold of my hand. Then she turned to her friend and said, in her charming accent: “It is so wonderful to be remembered! He’s so young, he will tell people about me many years from now.”

Then, some thirty-five years on, I was holding down the fort in the opera room at Tower Records one dreary afternoon when Licia Albanese came in with a companion; the soprano was rather feeble by that point in time, but when I greeted her, she smiled silently. I said to her, “I saw your one hundredth Violetta at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera!” She was silent for a moment, and I thought my remark had not registered. Her friend gave me a look as if to say that Madame’s mind might not be perfectly clear.

“The Zoo!” said the diva firmly. Then she began to roar like a lion and sing little birdcalls and make noises like chattering monkeys. Anyone who has ever attended a performance at the Cincinnati Zoo will know that these sounds were always a continuous obbligato to the opera being performed. We all laughed. And then I bade the two women goodbye, thinking to myself – as I have so often – “What a life I am living!”

Above: Licia Albanese at age 93; she passed away in 2014 at the age of 105.

~ Oberon

December 24, 2018
Licia’s Last Butterfly

On Friday, November 26, 1965, I went to a performance of MADAMA BUTTERFLY at the Metropolitan Opera House. On the following day, I had an operatic double-header: a matinee of ELISIR D’AMORE and an evening performance of FAUST. That Saturday marked the last time I ever set foot in the Old Met. The venerable theatre had been marked for demolition, while a New Met was rising at Lincoln Center.

The eight performances I saw at the Old House are very special memories for me. The singers I saw there had become gods and goddesses to me thru their singing on the Texaco Metropolitan Opera radio broadcasts; I was now experiencing ‘live‘ the rituals Milton Cross described each week over the airwaves: the house lights going down, the applause greeting the conductor, the great gold curtain being drawn back for the curtain calls. It was like a dream come true.

Licia Albanese’s was one of the first operatic voices I became familiar with. She was one of the singers on the first 2-LP set of opera arias and duets that I owned. She sang Liu on a memorable Met broadcast of TURANDOT in 1962, opposite Nilsson and Corelli. And my parents had taken me to see her as Violetta (her 100th performance of the role) at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera in 1963.

In all honesty, Albanese’s voice was never really among my favorites; it was more her expressive intensity of communication and her endearing persona that I found appealing. But I understood her importance as a singer in the grand tradition, and if her singing of the Violetta and Butterfly that I saw could turn dry and almost ghostly, I can still vividly recall her stage presence and her instinctive if Olde School acting.

What I did not realize as I watched Licia Albanese taking her bows after that 1965 Butterfly was that it was the final time she ever sang the role. After playing Cio-Cio-San some eighty times on that stage, this was to be the last. Like many performances I have experienced, the evening became iconic over time when measured as part of the singer’s career.

I met La Licia after the performance – I was one of a sizeable group of admirers who had waited for her – and she was of course elegantly gowned and coiffed, chattering away to her fans in Italian. She signed my program with a flourish:

It was a happy crowd of fans and friends, and no mention was made of it being “her last Butterfly”. She did sing one more complete role at The Met: Manon Lescaut; and the following Summer she sang Mimi in LA BOHEME with Barry Morell in a concert presented by The Met at the Newport Festival.

A few days after the performance, I sent her a fan letter and received this photo in return, along with her calling card:

Licia Albanese – Ancora un passo or via ~ MADAMA BUTTERFLY

There were two further memorable moments related to the Old Met and to MADAMA BUTTERFLY in Albanese’s extraordinary life: at the gala farewell concert that marked the closing of the Old Met on April 16th, 1966, Licia sang the aria “Un bel di” and, during the applause, she knelt to place a kiss on the stage where she had appeared so frequently since her debut in 1940:

Once the demolition of the ‘old yellow brewery’ began, Licia donned her kimono and sang “Un bel di” one last time amid the ruins.

But my connection with the legendary diva was not over. One evening during the first season at the New Met, I saw her among the audience on the Grand Tier during intermission. She was talking with another elegantly-gown lady as I approached them hesitantly. The other woman gave me an encouraging smile, so I took Madame Albanese’s hand and awkwardly told her of having seen her Violetta and Butterfly. She thanked me quietly, but kept hold of my hand. Then she turned to her friend and said, in her charming accent: “It is so wonderful to be remembered! He’s so young, he will tell people about me many years from now.”

Then, some thirty-five years on, I was holding down the fort in the opera room at Tower Records one dreary afternoon when Licia Albanese came in with a companion; the soprano was rather feeble by that point in time, but when I greeted her, she smiled silently. I said to her, “I saw your one hundredth Violetta at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera!” She was silent for a moment, and I thought my remark had not registered. Her friend gave me a look as if to say that Madame’s mind might not be perfectly clear.

“The Zoo!” said the diva firmly. Then she began to roar like a lion and sing little birdcalls and make noises like chattering monkeys. Anyone who has ever attended a performance at the Cincinnati Zoo will know that these sounds were always a continuous obbligato to the opera being performed. We all laughed. And then I bade the two women goodbye, thinking to myself – as I have so often – “What a life I am living!”

Above: Licia Albanese at age 93; she passed away in 2014 at the age of 105.

~ Oberon

December 23, 2018
First Voice

Above: tenor Barry Morell

Opera lovers: who among you can remember the very first voice you heard in a live opera performance? I’m not talking about recordings, broadcasts, telecasts, or DVDs, but actually being there.

For me it was tenor Barry Morell, singing the Duke of Mantua in a performance of RIGOLETTO at the Cincinnati Zoo Opera in 1962.

I don’t have an MP3 of Barry Morell as the Duke, but here he is in the passionate aria of Maurizio from ADRIANA LECOUVREUR; his voice is warm, with a nice Italianate ring to it:

Barry Morell – La dolcissima effigie – ADRIANA LECOUVREUR

By 1962, Barry Morell was well-established at The Met, having debuted there in 1958 as Pinkerton in MADAMA BUTTERFLY opposite the Cio-Cio-San of Victoria de los Angeles. In the ensuing years, he sang more than 250 performances with The Met, in New York City and on tour. His co-stars were some of the Met’s reigning divas: his first Tosca was Licia Albanese, his first MImi was Renata Tebaldi, and in his first Met Duke of Mantua, Elisabeth Söderström sang Gilda.

After that initial RIGOLETTO at Cincinnati, we returned for two more Summers, seeing Barry Morell as Alfredo in TRAVIATA (Albanese was singing her 100th Violetta that night) and as des Grieux in Massenet’s MANON, with Adriana Maliponte singing the title-role.

On November 26, 1965, Licia Albanese sang her last Madama Butterfly at The Met; Barry Morell was her Pinkerton. I was there.

In the Summer of 1966, we went up to Saratoga where the Philadelphia Orchestra was giving FLEDERMAUS in concert, conducted by Eugene Ormandy. Barry Morell was Alfredo, with Hilde Gueden (Rosalinda), Roberta Peters (Adele), and Kitty Carlisle (Prince Orlofsky).

Soon after that FLEDERMAUS, I made made first solo trip to New York City to join the first ticket line for the opening season at the New Met. Among the performances I saw in the first season or two at the Lincoln Center venue were TRAVIATA in which Barry Morell’s Violetta was Anna Moffo, and a BOHEME with Morell and Tebaldi.

Barry Morell sang at The Met until 1979; he passed away in 2003.

~ Oberon

December 21, 2018