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  • Tawny Chapman Residency @ CONTINUUM

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    Above: Tawny Chapman with CONTINUUM‘s Donna Salgado, Vanessa Salgado, Courtney Sauls, Laura DiOrio, and Dorrie Garland 

    Wednesday January 21st, 2015 – Backhausdance, a California-based company, performed at Joyce SoHo (boy, do I miss that place!) in 2010. I liked their programme a lot, and so I was glad today to have a chance to meet Tawny Chapman from Backhausdance while she’s in NYC as artist-in-residence at Donna Salgado’s CONTINUUM Contemporary Ballet.

    “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” – Henry David Thoreau. That quote was a springboard to what Tawny and the CONTINUUM dancers were working on, constructing signature phrases that evolved into dance.

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    Dorrie Garland and Courtney Sauls

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    Vanessa Salgado

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    Laura DiOrio

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    Courtney Sauls

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    The group

    Dorrie and Courtney worked together on a duet created to be danced in a very limited space. Some photos from this duet may be found in this Facebook album.

    Backhausdance will be performing at the Schimmel Center in New York City on February 27th and 28th, 2015. Details here. Very much worth seeing! 

  • NYCB: Opening Night|Winter Season 2015

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    Above: George Balanchine and Igor Stravinsky

    Update: Happy Birthday Mr. B ~ January 22nd!

    Tuesday January 20th, 2015 – An all-Balanchine evening to open the New York City Ballet‘s Winter 2015 season. In the days leading up to the performance there were several changes to the originally-announced casting, and it all turned out very well. Clothilde Otranto was on the podium to bring us the three contrasting scores, and the spirit of Balanchine hovered overall. 

    SERENADE received a performance aglow with lyricism; having recently heard the score played at Carnegie Hall, I was again thinking how Balanchine’s choreography is so intrinsically linked to the music: when you hear it played anywhere you immediately see the dance.

    Sterling Hyltin graced the enchanting melodies with her unique mixture of sophistication and impetousity; I wonder what perfume Mr. B would have chosen for her? There was a wonderful chemistry between Sterling and Robert Fairchild, especially in the passage where he pursues her around the stage: she draws him onward, elusive but always looking back to gently reassure him. This was just one of many such nuanced moments in their partnership tonight. As the ballet seems to take a darker turn, Sterling’s vulnerability came into play…so movingly. During the intermission, we sought superlatives to describe this ballerina’s performance: yet none seemed to suffice, really. So we simply basked in her beautiful glow.

    Erica Pereira could celebrate her birthday a day early with a new role: the Russian Girl, to which she initially brought an airy charm; as the ballet progressed, Erica found deeper hues of feminine resonance in her role. She was especially lovely in the opening of the third movement, dancing with the her four sisterly demi-solistes (Mlles. Adams, Dronova, Mann, and Sell) and later, her lustrous black hair flowing free, Erica rushed into Ask LaCour’s waiting arms with a sense of urgent grace.

    Teresa Reichlen, after swirling thru her elegant pirouettes earlier on, drew sighs of admiration for her sustained supported arabesque in the final movement, always a heart-filling moment. She danced radiantly, whetting the appetite for her upcoming debut in CHACONNE.

    Throughout the ballet, the corps ballerinas provided so many moments to savour, both as individuals and in the ensemble passages which Mr. B wove for them with such an imaginative sense of visual poetry. I wanted to throw roses onstage for all of them.

    AGON tonight was a triumph, with a powerful performance of the central pas de deux by Maria Kowroski and Amar Ramasar. At their charismatic finest, these two dancers displayed the amazing stretch, uncanny pliability, and dynamic counter-balances that Mr. B demands of them. Their bold physicality clearly captivated the crowd who wouldn’t stop applauding until Maria and Amar had bowed three times.

    Andrew Veyette’s wonderfully strong and supple dancing and his brazen high kick put a personal stamp on his solo. The masculine vigor of his presence held our focus whenever he was onstage. Likewise, Megan LeCrone made an excellent impression with her poised, steady balance and authoritative movement. Demi-solistes get to shine in AGON and tonight we had Lauren King, Ashley Laracey, Devin Alberda, and Daniel Applebaum all on peak, opening-night form. The quirky Stravinsky score continues to prick up our ears, no matter how many times we’ve heard it.

    That bountiful ballerina, Ashley Bouder, took command of the opening movement of SYMPHONY IN C. Dancing with her emblematic generosity, technical dazzle, and a touch of playful rubato, she not only illuminated the Allegro Vivo but continued to dance with outstanding clarity and musicality in the ballet’s demanding finale. Chase Finlay kept pace with her and was a handsome-as-ever cavalier. Particular pleasure was derived from watching the two ballerina demis in this opening movement: Claire Kretzschmar and Meagan Mann. They have a lot to do and they did it brillliantly.

    Sara Mearns, dancing with velvety sumptuousness and her own particular mystique, was partnered with gallant grace by Jared Angle. They made the Adagio – one of the wonders of Balanchine’s world – as breath-taking as it should be, with a slow, gorgeous melt into the final pose. Their artistry and lyrical poise made this duet a bulwark of beauty in a darkening world. 

    Further illumination came as Lauren Lovette and Gonzalo Garcia filled the space with swirling vibrancy in the Allegro Vivace. They are a marvelous match-up: a fetching ballerina and a prince of a cavalier. Let’s see them together again soon: so many possibilities.

    Brittany Pollack opened the finale with some sparkling combinations, soon joined by the fascinating Adrian Danchig-Waring, a man who mixes classicism and dynamic strength in perfect measure. The stage then filled with all my beloved NYCB dancers and the evening swept on to its imperial conclusion.

    A word of praise for all the demi-solistes in the Bizet; their role in this ballet is so much more than decorative. So thanks to all: Meagan and Claire (already noted for their excellence), Andrew Scordato, Joshua Thew, Jenelle Manzi, Sarah Villwock, Lars Nelson, Devin Alberda, Mary Elizabeth Sell, Gretchen Smith, Peter Walker, Daniel Applebaum, Alina Dronova, Ralph Ippolito, Troy Schumacher and Kristen Segin (who had also made her mark in SERENADE)…and indeed to everyone who made this a grand night for dancing.

  • LA BOHEME @ The Met

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    Monday Jaunary 19th, 2015 – When my friend Lisette was appearing in WERTHER at The Met in 2014, she spoke well of the tenor Jean-François Borras (above) who was covering the title-role and who ended up singing one performance. Now he is back for three performances as Rodolfo in LA BOHEME and I decided to try it, especially after some soprano-shuffling brought Marina Rebeka into the line-up as Musetta.

    Overall it was a good BOHEME, though somewhat compromised by the conducting of Riccardo Frizza who had fine ideas about tempo and some nice detailing but tended to give too much volume at the climaxes: this might have worked had the principals been Tebaldi and Tucker, but not for the current pair of lovers. Mr. Borras wisely tried to resist pushing his voice; Kristine Opolais, the Mimi, was having other problems so riding the orchestra was the least of her worries. It was Ms. Rebeka who ended up giving the evening’s most stimulating performance, along wth baritone Mariusz Kwiecien, an outstanding Marcello.

    Following her well-received Met RONDINEs, Ms. Opolais became something of the darling of The Met, especially when – last season – she sang back-to-back performances of Butterfly and Mimi. I heard one of the Butterflies which was marred by some sharpness of pitch. A glance at her bio reveals that she has already sung roles like Tosca, Manon Lescaut, Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth, Jenufa, even Aida, all of which seem to me ill-suited to what is essentially a lyric voice. Tonight much of her singing was tremulous and pallid, and the tendency to go sharp spoiled several potentially attractive passages. One hears that The Met plans new productions of MANON LESCAUT, RUSALKA, and TOSCA for her (there are even whispers of a new THAIS); unless she can somehow repair her over-spent voice, I can’t see how she’ll get thru these demanding roles in the Big House. Anyway, she seems now to have been usurped as the talk-of-the-town soprano by Sonya Yoncheva…one wonders what new productions she has been promised. Meanwhile it’s sad to hear Ms. Opolais – who might be (have been?) a lovely Pamina, Liu, and Micaela – having pushed herself into inappropriate repertory at the cost of vocal stability.

    Mr. Borras gave such an appealing performance that the conductor’s lack of consideration was particularly unfortunate. The tenor’s warm timbre falls most pleasingly on the ear, and he had so many felicitious phrases to give us, and some lovely word-colourings. After the orchestra encroached on the climax of “Che gelida manina” – which the tenor managed nonetheless – I enjoyed the way he handled Rodolfo’s little melodic gems at Cafe Momus, and his persuasive vocalism in Act III was a balm to the ear, especially the lingering bitter-sweetness of his hushed “…stagione dei fiori…”

    Latvian-soprano-Marina-Rebeka

    Ms. Rebeka (above) was the most marvelous Musetta I have encountered since Carol Neblett’s sensational debut at New York City Opera in 1969. Her voice gleaming and generous, Ms. Rebeka seized the stage in no uncertain terms, really making something out of the super-familiar Waltz which she climaxed with a smile-inducing diminuendo on the top-B. She went on to thrill the ear in the ensuing ensemble, and she was excellent in Act III.

    Mr. Kwiecien gave a first-rate performance as Marcello. In this music, he can spend his voice generously without having to be concerned with sustaining a full title-character evening, something he’s never had quite the vocal and theatrical presence for, despite his undoubted appeal. Tonight, it was ample-toned, warm singing from note one, and an extroverted, somewhat ‘mad-artist’ view of the character handsomely presented. Would that he’d had a Mimi to match him in the Act III duet. But he and Borras were both superb in their scene, in which they almost came to fisticuffs before Rodolfo finally admitted the truth about Mimi’s illness and his hopeless state of poverty. Kwiecien then melted into the caring ‘best friend’ that makes Marcello a standout portrait in these scènes de la vie de bohème.

    Alessio Arduini (Schaunard) and David Soar (Colline) gave attractive vocal performances despite the conductor’s trampling on some of their lines; they were charming during a mini-food-fight at Cafe Momus.

    Some of the staging at the Barrière d’Enfer didn’t enhance the narrative: Mimi reveals her eavesdropping presence not by an attack of coughing – such a moving device – but by stumbling down the staircase and collapsing melodramatcally at the door to the inn. Later, too many by-standers surround Marcello and Musetta as they argue, and the ever-so-moving reconciliation of Mimi and Rodolfo is marred by Musetta grabbing a passser-by and kissing him lavishly: this gets a wave of unwanted laughter during one of the opera’s most poignant moments.

    The first intermission was debilitating; these extended breaks always drain the life out of the evening, and the better the performance the more annoying they are. And seat-poaching is so unattractive, especially when it causes a disruption if there’s an unexpected seating break – as tonight between the garrett and Momus.

    But BOHEME still casts its spell, as it has for me ever since I first heard it on a Texaco broadcast 53 years ago to the day, with Lucine Amara and Barry Morell as the lovers. The Beecham recording remains my touchstone document of this heart-rending score. Tonight’s audience, quite substantial by current standards, embraced the classic Met production warmly.

    Metropolitan Opera House
    January 19th, 2015

    LA BOHÈME
    Giacomo Puccini

    Mimì....................Kristine Opolais
    Rodolfo.................Jean-François Borras
    Musetta.................Marina Rebeka
    Marcello................Mariusz Kwiecien
    Schaunard...............Alessio Arduini
    Colline.................David Soar
    Benoit..................John Del Carlo
    Alcindoro...............John Del Carlo
    Parpignol...............Daniel Clark Smith
    Sergeant................Jason Hendrix
    Officer.................Joseph Turi

    Conductor...............Riccardo Frizza

  • Trifonov Triumphs @ The NY Phil

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    Above: pianist Daniil Trifonov

    Tuesday December 30th, 2014 – My final musical event of the year. Avery Fisher Hall was packed with avid music-lovers as the Spanish conductor Juanjo Mena (NY Philharmonic debut) took the podium for the opening work, Capriccio espagnol by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. 

    Painted in vibrant colours and dancing in dazzling rhythms, this Capriccio is a vivid evocation of Spain. Finding inspiration in Spanish folk songs, Rimsky-Korsakov cast the piece in five continuous  movements: Alborada (“morning song”); Variazoni; again Alborada; “Scene and Gypsy Song”; and the fabulous Fandango Asturiano (a dance popular in northern Spain) which features the lilting sonic illusion of guitars being strummed to the jaunty clicking of castanets. The work features prominent passages for the solo violin, Sheryl Staples winning a round of ‘bravas‘ as the conductor led her forward a solo bow at the end. Likewise Carter Brey (cello), Robert Langevin (flute) and Anthony McGill (clarinet) were all embraced by the enthusiastic crowd. And the horns were having a fine night of it. Señor Mena’s debut was off to an auspicious start.

    Kudos to the Hall’s stagehands who re-configured the seating and parked the Steinway front-and-center in the twinkling eye.

    The appearance of the boyish Daniil Trifonov was warmly greeted; with a charismatic air of mystery, this pale young man seemed to summon up imaginings of such great pianistic wonders as Chopin and Liszt who, if we believe what is written, could cast a spell over the multitudes with their virtuosic musical wizardry and their spiritual connection to the piano itself. Mr. Trifonov was so clearly enamoured of the keyboard, caressing it with his elegantly styled hands, nearly putting his ear to the keys as if they were whispering secrets to him. Intense when in motion, he seemed to be under in the piano’s thrall, unable to resist it, like an obsessive lover. If all of this sounds high-flown, it’s thoroughly true – though of course it would all be for nought if he lacked the technical mastery to match his physical passion. But…he has massive technique: he seems to burn with it, in fact. 

    So it became both an aural and a visual fascination to experience his playing tonight, playing that was beautifully embraced by the orchestral sound under Maestro Mena’s articulate leadership. For all the spectacular fluency of Trifonov’s agility as his hands whisked magically up and down the keyboard, it was in the central Andante that his mystic conversation with Rachmaninoff reached us most affectingly: especially in the gentle hush of the long, slow ascent at the end.

    Hailed by the crowd, the pianist gave us a solo encore played with delicate rapture. You can get a sense of the spell Daniil Trifonov casts with his playing here. And this quote from a Playbill article about the pianist says so much about him as an artist:  “…he approaches his work almost as a mission, and has compared the classical performer to a pastor and the performance space to a temple of art. He is ever mindful of the audiences who, he believes, need to experience something profound and meaningful in every concert.”

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    Above: conductor Juanjo Mena

    Maestro Mena has an Old World aura about him: passionate yet gentlemanly. His rendering of the Tchaikovsky 6th (Pathétique) symphony had great melodic breadth as well as a sense of nobility. From Judith LeClair’s pensive opening bassoon passage, the symphony bloomed sonically with some truly splendid playing by the Philharmonic’s richly gifted artists. In the midst of so much fabulous music-making, one moment stood out as exceptional: Anthony McGill’s truly remarkable – whispered – playing of the clarinet theme near the end of the first movement. This was some of the purest and truest music-making I’ve ever experienced: how daring of Mr. McGill to play it ppppp…and how gorgeously he succeeded!

    The symphony’s final movement, the Adagio Lamentoso, was choreographed (more as a ritual than an actual ballet) by George Balanchine; seeming to be the choreographer’s farewell to the world, it was performed only once during his lifetime, at the New York City Ballet’s 1981 Tchaikovsky Festival. Longtime NYCBalletomanes have different memories of repeat performances, but it’s most likely true that it was seen again – just once – after Balanchine’s death, danced as a memorial. I never saw it, but I wish that I had.

  • AIDA @ The Met: First of Two

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    Monday December 29th, 2014 – A chance to hear two new-to-The-Met sopranos in the title-role of Verdi’s AIDA within the space of five days. Tamara Wilson (above) made an auspicious House debut last week; I caught up with her tonight. On Saturday, another soprano, Marjorie Owens, is scheduled for a single performance as the Ethopian princess. Score desks were the solution for this thrice-familiar production, the $12 price tag meaning I needn’t feel I’m throwing money away if I decide not to stay for the whole thing. Despite numerous distractions and some sub-par singing from other cast members, I was determined to hear Tamara’s “O patria mia”, so I stuck with it…and it was worth the wait.

    Tamara Wilson made an excellent impression earlier this year in a performance of Max Bruch’s oratorio MOSES at Carnegie Hall. Her Met debut came about when she was called upon to replace Latonia Moore in this series of AIDAs, Ms. Moore being pregnant. I was very glad to hear Ms. Wilson again so soon, and her performance overall was truly impressive. 

    The house seemed fuller than on many recent evenings, and the performance begain auspiciously with an evocative playing of the prelude. Marco Armiliato, both here and in last week’s TRAVIATA, seemed to be taking a more thoughtful approach to these two operas he’s conducted so often; in the past his Verdi has often felt perfunctory and over-emphatic. This season he seems more tuned-in to the niceties of the scores.

    Marcello Giordani’s voice sounded wobbly and unsuppported as the opera began. He has absolutely no resonance in the lower range now, tending to ‘speak’ the words rather than sing them. In the past, his powerful upper-middle and high registers have managed to compensate for this fault, but tonight the top notes had a steady beat and a glare that was unpleasant. “Celeste Aida”, a tenor test-piece that can defeat even singers on top form, was touch-and-go tonight as Giordani tried to a get a line going with little success. The climactic B-flat veered sharp. Two shouts of ‘bravo‘ and tepid applause.

    Violeta Urmana, after several seasons of singing soprano repertoire with variable success, has reverted to singing Amneris. Her tone was unsteady, with an unpleasantly wide vibrato. The voice is unrecognizable as belonging to the same woman who was a thrilling, contralto-rich Kundry in her Met debut in 2001. The wear and tear of such demanding roles as Isolde, Aida, Gioconda, and Odabella have worn the velvet off the tone and it was sad to hear her unpleasant singing tonight. She has power, and all the right instincts, but the voice just won’t cooperate.

    At last some balm for the ear as Ms. Wilson arrived onstage; it’s a pleasing sound, a full-lyric-to-spinto voice with Met-filling amplitude and clarity. Her phrasing and dramatic nuances served the music very well, and I very much anticipated her “Ritorna vincitor” which she began excitingly by seizing the opening phrase the moment the preceding ensemble had ended. With this impetus, she was making a fine expressive effect with the music when suddenly the sound of loud talking from the lighting bay in the auditorium ceiling broke the spell. This problem has cropped up many times at the Met over the years, but this was by far the most blatant and disruptive incident. People around me began to mutter and whisper; one man went in search of an usher to complain. Meanwhile the soprano’s “Numi pieta…” went for nought.

    The talking continued throughout the quiet opening of the Temple scene – maring Jennifer Check’s attractive voicing of the chant of the Priestess – and throughout the ballet interlude. At last the strong-voiced Ramfis of Dmitry Belosselskiy re-captured our attention: the light in the bay was extinguished and the music again became our focus. Mr. Giordani was in such pallid voice in this scene that I truly expected him to withdraw at the interval.

    After a coma-inducing forty-minute intermission, the house lights dimmed very slowly and I was sure an announcement of a new tenor was forthcoming. But no, the show went on with Giordani.

    Ms. Urmana managed by hook or by crook to sing Amneris’s tricky “Ah, vieni…vien amor mio” entrances, but it was Ms. Wilson who carried the scene between the rivals. Ms. Urmana’s voice, which has shrunk in size, was sometimes covered by the orchestra; a few of her dramatic interjections showed the desired spark, but mostly she seemed to be just getting by in parlous voice. Ms. Wilson’s “Pieta ti prenda del mio dolor..” was beautifully voiced, but Urmana’s spreading tops really deterred from their duet. Once Urmana made her exit we could finally savour Ms. Wilson’s heartfelt, dynamically poised reprise of “Numi pieta…”

    For the Triumphal Scene ballet I stood up to see if I could spot any of my dancer-friends doing the very animated Ratmansky choreography. The wigs and makeup are very disguising, but I did find Emery LeCrone at last, which made me smile.

    Once the dust had settled after the ballet and parade, the tensions and inter-play of the ensuing ensemble were quite vivid. Giordani was at sea, talking his lines, but the two bassos (Mr. Belosselskiy and Soloman Howard as the King) were nicely sonorous. The entrance of Amonasro showed off George Gagnidze’s power and dramatic word-colouring, whilst Ms. Wilson was able to sail nicely over the orchestra and massed chorus, taking a shining top-C at the climax of the great concertato. After Amneris has been awarded to Radames, the concluding ensemble went forward with a real swing to it and here Mr. Giordani’s voice perked up and he hurled forth some stentorian B-flats. Ms. Wilson was not to be out-sung, and Ms. Urmana and Mr. Gagnidze and the bassos all got into it, with an exciting result.

    I managed to survive the second intermission by chatting up a nearby Chinese boy who proved both knowledgeable and charming. It’s so nice to find a young person with a genuine interest in this dying art form.

    At last the gentle introduction to the Nile scene was heard (the orchestra doing a fine job all evening) and we were treated to a poised rendering of “O patria mia” with Ms. Wilson very attentive to the markings in the score (which I was following closely); she took an unusually powerful approach to the low-range phrase “No…no..mai piu, mai piu…” and moments later made a shining ascent to a silvery and sustained high-C; it’s been a while since I’ve heard a soprano carry this off so well. Then a wonderful swelling tone on the high-A reprise of ‘O…patria mia…” and then the final float tapering off. Excellent! 

    George Gagnidze brought crisp dramatic accents to Amonasro’s attempts to ensnare his daughter in his plan for revenge; Ms. Wilson, nicely lyrical at first, became more intense as she realized what her father’s intentions were. The baritone rose to an excitingly loud and sustained “…dei Faraoni tu sei la schiava!” and then summoned up a persuasive legato for “Pensa che un popolo…vinto…straziato.”

    Arriving to meet his beloved, Giordani did his best singing of the evening, perhaps inspired by the soprano in their duet. Tamara’s spun-silk phrasing of “La tra le foreste vergine…” had a seductive glow and the tenor tried hard to match her for phrasing and nuance, doing the best he could with a fractured instrument. And then Ms. Wilson floated up to a dreamy high B-flat.

    After their well-voiced stretta, the drama quickly built with Gagnidze’s revelation and his urgent plea that they should flee. Giordani belted out “Sacerdote! Io resto a te!” with as much authority as he could summon, but it wasn’t enough.

    Much as I wished to hear Tamara Wilson in the Tomb Scene, the thought of Urmana and Giordani slugging it out in the Judgement Scene (my favorite scene in all Verdi) proved too daunting, so I snuck out and headed home. I hope the soprano got the ovation she so truly deserved.

    Note: I sent a message of complaint to The Met early the next morning about the disruption from the lighting bay and received almost immediately a reply that there had been a “flood” which caused emergency repairs to be made during the opera and the workmen had been talking. A flood, in the lighting bay, next to the chandeliers in the ceiling of the opera house?  OK, if you say so. But the sound of talking from that location has spoiled several Met performances over time and I find it hard to believe that this wasn’t just another incident of someone working in the bay, babbling away to a colleague or on his cell-phone. 

    Monday December 29th, 2014

    AIDA
    Giuseppe Verdi

    Aida....................Tamara Wilson
    Radamès.................Marcello Giordani
    Amneris.................Violeta Urmana
    Amonasro................George Gagnidze
    Ramfis..................Dmitry Belosselskiy
    King....................Soloman Howard
    Messenger...............Eduardo Valdes
    Priestess...............Jennifer Check
    Dance...................Jennifer Cadden
    Dance...................Scott Weber

    Conductor...............Marco Armiliato

  • New York String Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

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    Above: violinist Augustin Hadelich

    Sunday December 28th, 2014 matinee – An matinee concert by the New York String Orchestra at Carnegie Hall brought us the scores of two favorite ballets: Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings (the setting of Balanchine’s beloved classic) and the Barber violin concerto (one of Peter Martins’ finest creations). In addition, Beethoven’s Pastoral symphony (#6) rounded out the afternoon.

    A huge crowd filled the venerable hall, perhaps drawn as much by attractive ticket pricing as by the inviting programming. Although betraying a lack of sophistication by applauding between movements – and even during one movement of the Serenade – they were on the whole very attentive and appreciative, and there were lots of young people present, a hopeful sign that live classical music still has the power to inspire in an age of I-phones and ‘clouds’. We could have done without the baby, though.

    Jaime Laredo took the podium, mustering a lush and soul-lifting sound from his young musicians in the Tchaikovsky. I sometimes wonder if people who’ve never seen Balanchine’s ballet get the same spine-tingling raptures on hearing this score played in a concert hall. For ballet-goers, this is music indelibly linked to movement: to toe shoes and ice-blue tulle; so much so that, even though we know full well the order of the last two movements will be reversed, it’s still a bit of a jolt when it happens. The musicians (so many Asian players – always a treat!) simply reveled in the rich textures and broad melodies with which the composer both seduces and inspires us. It was a – indeed, an inspiring – performance, loaded with sonic ravishments.

    Augustin Hadelich then appeared, slender and dapper, and together with Maestro Laredo and the orchestra (enhanced by winds, piano, and timpani) gave a marvelous reading of the Barber concerto. Mr. Hadelich has an extraordinary gift for lyricism, his tone remaining blessedly sweet in the highest register whilst meanwhile showing an almost viola-like resonance in the lower range. Sweeping thru the poignant themes that the composer has lavished on the work, the violinist seemed to be reaching the hearts of the listeners; and in the insanely swift and dancing coloratura of the final presto, he was indeed impressive. 

    Barber gives shining moments to some of the orchestral voices as well, most notably the oboe solo heard early in the second movement, played lovingly today by Emily Beare. Horn, flutes, clarinet and bassoon each have their say, and I love the way the piano is woven into the tapestry, Amalia Rinehart making a fine impression at the keyboard. I also greatly enjoyed the female timpanist, Yibing Wang.

    Mr. Hadelich was rightly given a warm ovation and he very much deserved the Paganini encore which was granted, though I think I would have preferred to carry my deep enjoyment of the Barber right into the interval.

    Beethoven’s Pastoral is a very nice symphony: the music is overwhelmingly lovely and cordial, and even the momentary storm (which passes as swiftly as Rossini’s witty thunderbolts in Barbiere di Siviglia) can’t detract from the sheer serenity of the music. Well-played by the young musicians, I found the symphony too lulling and too long to sustain interest over its 40-minute duration. But the first half of the concert was entirely satsfying.

  • Score Desk for TRAVIATA

    Rebeka

    Above: soprano Marina Rebeka

    Saturday December 27th, 2014 matinee – The Met’s lame production of La Traviata – yet another attempt to make opera ‘relevant’ – isn’t worth seeing, but I thought this particular cast might be worth hearing, so I bought a score desk for today’s matinee. In the event, Marina Rebeka (Violetta) and Quinn Kelsey (Germont) made for a particularly exciting afternoon: their singing of the great Act II duet – the heart of the opera – was indeed memorable. And both of them were in fact excellent throughout. It’s good to experience this kind of singing in a standard-rep work at The Met, for there’s no guarantee of it in this day and age. 

    On the podium, Marco Armiliato seemed more intent than usual on molding a convincing rendering of the score: sometimes he is too hasty, too loud, too provincial. But today he showed great attention to details of tempo and dynamic, and allowed his singers plenty of leeway to linger on favorite notes and pamper beloved phrases. The orchestra played very well.

    Aside from Maria Zifchak (Annina) and James Courtney (Dr. Grenvil), the singers in the smaller roles were more serviceable than memorable.

    In a role which has been sung in living memory at The Met by such luminaries as Richard Tucker, Alfredo Kraus, Carlo Bergonzi, Nicolai Gedda, Neil Shicoff, Placido Domingo, and Jonas Kaufmann, Stephen Costello – today’s Alfredo – seemed like a case of sending a boy to do a man’s job. A feeling of uncertain pitch pervaded quite a bit of Costello’s singing, and despite a lovely passage here and there, he seemed unsure as the music ventured higher, and his breath-line sometimes didn’t sustain. His offstage serenade in Act I was flat, and he struggled with the cabaletta “O mio rimorso”, sounding tentative and uneasy. It’s sad to hear a young and promising voice in this state; it might be a good idea for him to take a break and address the problems that seem to have cropped up in his singing.

    But Marina Rebeka and Quinn Kelsey swept Verdi’s immortal score to triumph with their outstanding vocalism all afternoon. Ms. Rebeka, who has proven vastly pleasing in Rossini’s Moïse et Pharaon at Carnegie Hall and in Don Giovanni at The Met, moved into the upper echelons of the many Violettas I have encountered in-house – more than 60 of them to date – in my many years of opera-going. Her voice has a pearly sheen; she displays impressive dynamic control, appealing turns of phrase, vibrant top notes, agile coloratura; and it’s a voice with a personality behind it. Her singing of the Act I scena was some of the most aurally stimulating I have heard in recent seasons, with plenty of verve in “Sempre libera” and a nicely placed E-flat to polish it off.

    In Act II, the soprano met her vocal equal in Quinn Kelsey, who had sung an excellent Marcello in Boheme earlier this season. This vocal duo of Met-sized voices brought to this scene the kind of tonal allure, dramatic nuance, passion, and sheer vocal glamour that made the theatre seem to pulsate with emotion. Trading phrases, each seemed to produce one magical effect after another: the sopranos pppp “Di due figli?”, the baritone’s twinge of heartache at “Deh, non mutate in triboli…” and later his deeply felt “…tai detti a un genitor!” led us to Ms. Rebeka’s superbly delicate “Dite alla giovine…”: the absolute turning point of the opera. Throughout this duet, the two singers gave the kind of involved, emotionally engaging singing that seems often to be missing in performances today. I scrawled the word “Wow!” in my Playbill. 

    Q Kelsey

    Mr. Kelsey (above) returned for a big-toned, finely-modulated and tender “Di Provenza”, winning a burst of sincere applause from the crowd (who were rather stingy with aria-applause today but went nuts at the end of the opera). I kind of wish they’d left off the baritone’s cabaletta – which Kelsey sang very well but which seems musically trite to me and de-rails the impetus of the drama.

    In the scene at Flora’s, Mr. Costello sounded flattish and seemed to lack reserves of power for the denunciation scene, but Mr. Kelsey upbraided his son with some grand singing to which Costello’s response was perhaps his best moment of the evening. Ms. Rebeka sailed over the ensemble with gleaming tone, having sung the opera’s most moving passage – “Alfredo, Alfredo…di questo core…” (where she prays that God will spare her beloved from remorse for his callous behavior) – beautifully.

    Moving directly from the country-house to Flora’s party scene to the final scene in succession, without pause, makes for a very long sing for the soprano, but Ms. Rebeka took it all in stride and did some of her most ravishing singing in “Addio del passato” where she worked some piano magic along the way and for once made the second verse seem necessary. Despite Mr. Costello being again off-pitch in “Parigi, o cara” the soprano managed to carry it off, moving on to a pensive “Ma se tornando…” as the reality that Alfredo’s love cannot save her sinks in; she bursts out thrillingly in “Gran dio, morir si giovine”, though the tenor’s response is effortful…and later in an ensemble passage he seems quite taxed by a couple of B-double-flats.

    Her chance for happiness has come too late; but with a big build-up of hope, Violetta speaks of her pain having vanished. Rising to a stunning top-A on “O gioia!”, Ms. Rebeka draws the opera to a heart-rending close.

    Big ovations for the soprano and baritone at their curtain calls; the House was still resounding with cheers as I left. If my upcoming two performances of Aïda come close to the level of today’s Traviata, I’ll be more than pleased. 

    Metropolitan Opera House
    December 27, 2014 matinee

    LA TRAVIATA
    Giuseppe Verdi

    Violetta.....................Marina Rebeka
    Alfredo......................Stephen Costello
    Germont......................Quinn Kelsey
    Flora........................Maya Lahyani
    Gastone......................Eduardo Valdes
    Baron Douphol................Jason Stearns
    Marquis D'Obigny.............Kyle Pfortmiller
    Dr. Grenvil..................James Courtney
    Annina.......................Maria Zifchak
    Giuseppe.....................Juhwan Lee
    Messenger....................Joseph Turi
    Guest........................Athol Farmer
    Gentleman....................Paul Corona

    Conductor....................Marco Armiliato

  • There Is An Inn

    Cat-and-fiddle

    “There is an inn, a merry old inn
    beneath an old grey hill,
    And there they brew a beer so brown
    That the Man in the Moon himself came down
    one night to drink his fill.

    The ostler has a tipsy cat
    that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
    And up and down he runs his bow,
    Now squeaking high, now purring low,
    now sawing in the middle.

    The landlord keeps a little dog
    that is mighty fond of jokes;
    When there’s good cheer among the guests,
    He cocks an ear at all the jests
    and laughs until he chokes.

    They also keep a hornéd cow
    as proud as any queen;
    But music turns her head like ale,
    And makes her wave her tufted tail
    and dance upon the green.

    And O! the rows of silver dishes
    and the store of silver spoons!
    For Sunday there’s a special pair,
    And these they polish up with care
    on Saturday afternoons.

    The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
    and the cat began to wail;
    A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
    The cow in the garden madly pranced,
    and the little dog chased his tail.

    The Man in the Moon took another mug,
    and rolled beneath his chair;
    And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
    Till in the sky the stars were pale,
    and dawn was in the air.

    Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
    “The white horses of the Moon,
    They neigh and champ their silver bits;
    But their master’s been and drowned his wits,
    and the Sun’ll be rising soon!”

    So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
    a jig that would wake the dead:
    He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
    While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
    “It’s after three!” he said.

    They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
    and bundled him into the Moon,
    While his horses galloped up in rear,
    And the cow came capering like a deer,
    and a dish ran up with the spoon.

    Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
    the dog began to roar,
    The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
    The guests all bounded from their beds
    and danced upon the floor.

    With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
    the cow jumped over the Moon,
    And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
    And the Saturday dish went off at a run
    with the silver Sunday spoon.

    The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
    as the Sun raised up her head.
    She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
    For though it was day, to her surprise
    they all went back to bed.”

    ~ JRR Tolkien

  • New Music Director at NYC Ballet

    Litton_lg_7

    New York City Ballet have announced the appointment of Andrew Litton (above) as music director. Litton, a native New Yorker, is the sixth conductor to hold the coveted post.

    Visit Maestro Litton’s website and learn all about him here.

    And while we’re on the subject of New York City Ballet, ballerina Faye Arthurs has posted a charming story about the Company’s annual NUTCRACKER season here.

  • Joy To The World: BRANDENBURGS @ CMS

    2000px-Johann_Sebastian_Bach_signature.svg_

    Tuesday December 16th, 2014 – New York City Ballet have Balanchine’s NUTCRACKER; The Philharmonic offers the MESSIAH; and The Met’s giving holiday performances of HANSEL & GRETEL. But it’s Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center who give us an extra-special gift every year in the run up to Christmas Eve: the complete Brandenburg concertos of Johann Sebastian Bach.

    Last year the Society scheduled two performances of this programme, both of which were sold out. This year they have added a third performance, which is the one Dmitry and I attended tonight. And on Thursday they’ll take the Brandenburgs on the road, to the Harris Theater in Chicago.

    A large crowd this evenng, with additional rows of seating near the stage. A pair of fidgety neighbors were a bit of a distraction, but at least they were silent. The concertos, played in a different order each year, unfolded magically; each has its own complement of players and the Society assembled a roster of excellent musicians who traded off ‘seatings’ from one concerto to the next. So nice to see principal artists from The New York Philharmonic (Robert Langevin, flute, and Timothy Cobb, double-bass) and The Metropolitan Opera (Julia Pilant, horn) joining CMS from their neighboring home theatres. Mr. Cobb and John Gibbons (immaculate playing at the harpsichord) performed in all six concertos. The programme looks long on paper, but actually the evening flew by with a savourable mixture of virtuosity and expressive poetry.

    The performance opened with the #1 concerto in F-major, which sounds so Handelian to me. This is the concerto with two horns and a trio of oboes. Ms. Pilant and Julie Landsman sounded the brightly-harmonized horn calls with assurance, whilst Stephen Taylor, Randall Ellis, and James Austin Smith piped up delightfully with their oboes, joined by Marc Goldberg on bassoon. Oboe, violin, bassoon and bass sound the poignant adagio, then the high horns ring out briskly in the allegro. You think it’s over, but there’s a surprise fourth movement – it veers from minuet to polonaise – in which separate choirs of winds and strings summon up the rhythms of the dance.

    In concerto #6 (B-flat major) which follows, a trio of cellos (Pauk Watkins, Eileen Moon, Timothy Eddy) bring a particular resonance to the score. The adagio – one of Bach’s most movingly melodious inventions – opens with the solo viola (Lily Francis) who passes the theme to violinist Lawrence Dutton. This is a passage that one wants to go on and on. But the closing allegro sweeps us inexorably forward.

    Violinist Benjamin Beilman took the lead in the 4th concerto (in G-major); the satiny sheen of his sustained tones and his very deft management of the coloratura passages were indeed impressive, and he is an animated, deeply involved musician. The duo flautists Sooyun Kim and Robert Langevin warbled with silvery sweetness in the fleet phrases of the outer movements and blendied serenely in the central andante.  Ben Beilman’s striking virtuosity and his elegant lyricism marked a high point in an evening loaded with superb playing.

    After the interval, in the 5th concerto (D-major), John Gibbons’ harpsichord artistry was to the fore, giving great pleasure in a long, complex and brilliantly etched ‘mega-cadenza’ at close of the first movement. The central affetuoso movement brings the sterling flute of Mr. Langevin and the poised violin phrasing of Sean Lee, mingling their ‘voices’  with the keyboard textures Mr. Gibbons so impressively evoked. Yet again, we feel Bach’s genius being transmitted to us in all its poignant clarity. The mood and pace then bounce back emphatically with a brisk final allegro.

    The 3rd concerto, in G-major, is unique in that the expected central slow movement is replaced by a mere couple of chords before going immediately into allegro overdrive. Thus the entire piece simply rushes forward in a whirlwind of animated playing. The all-strings setting (plus harpsichord, of course) features a large ensemble and much rhythmic and melodic variety whilst always sailing onward.

    The evening’s final work, the 2nd concerto (in F-major), arrived far to soon. In flourishing flights to the upper range, David Washburn’s Baroque trumpet gave the arcangel Gabriel a run for his money. Equally scintllating to the ear was Sooyun Kim’s limpid flute playing: both in agility and in sustained, luminous tone, she made a wonderful impression. In the andante, a particularly fine blend of timbres from Ms. Kim, Stephen Taylor (oboe), Lawrence Dutton (violin) and Paul Watkins (cello) made me again want to linger; but the trumpeter’s silvery calls in the final allegro assai swept us on to the evening’s celebratory conclusion.

    The young violinist Sean Lee, playing the concertos with CMS for the first time, wrote movingly of the experience in a Playbill note: “I cannot think of a more joyous, warm, celebratory set of pieces to revel to, as if gathering around a fire during these winter months.” Amen to that!   

    The participating artists: