Tag: Opera

Blanche Thebom

Blanche Thebom (above), the glamorous mezzo-soprano whose career at The Met lasted over 30 years, was as well-known for her magnetic stage presence and her sensationally long hair as for her singing.

She made her debut with the Metropolitan Opera Company in 1944 as Brangaene in TRISTAN UND ISOLDE in a performance at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; two weeks later, she sang Fricka in DIE WALKURE at The Met. These performances drew rave reviews for Ms. Thebom, both for her singing and for her distinctive beauty and dramatic flair.

Ms. Thebom went on to sing more that 360 performances with the Metropolitan Opera Company, in New York and on tour. She was a much-admired Carmen and Dalila, and in Verdi she made a regal impression as Amneris and Princess Eboli. She seemed capable of singing anything, from Adalgisa in NORMA to Venus in TANNHAUSER, while – in a lighter vein – she appeared as Prince Orlofsky and as Dorbella in COSI FAN TUTTE.

Above: Blanche Thebom as Princess Eboli

Blanche Thebom – O don fatale ~ DON CARLO

Ms. Thebom appeared in the US premieres of two important works at The Met: as Baba the Turk in Stravinsky’s RAKE’S PROGRESS in 1953, and as Adelaide in Strauss’s ARABELLA in 1955. In the 1960s, she undertook what might be called “principal character” roles such as Genevieve in PELLEAS ET MELISANDE, Magdalene in MEISTERSINGER, and the Old Baroness in VANESSA. Her last role was that of the Countess in Tchaikovsky’s QUEEN OF SPADES – performed in English, at the New Met – in which she appeared opposite Teresa Stratas and Jon Vickers.

After retiring from the Met, Blanche Thebom taught singing and also served on the Metropolitan Opera’s Board of Directors until 2008. She passed away in 2010, at the age of 94.

In my earliest days of opera-loving, Blanche Thebom was already spoken of in our house. My father, who had seen her on TV, referred to her as ‘Blanche the Bomb’ due to her physical allure. And my grandmother told me about Thebom’s legendary hair, which had been used as a dramatic device when she sang Berlioz’s Dido at Covent Garden in 1957 (photo above).

I finally heard Thebom’s voice on the radio in 1962:

Metropolitan Opera House December 29th, 1962 Matinee/Broadcast
PELLÉAS ET MÉLISANDE Pelléas.................Nicolai Gedda Mélisande...............Anna Moffo Golaud..................George London Arkel...................Jerome Hines Geneviève...............Blanche Thebom Yniold..................Teresa Stratas Physician...............Clifford Harvuot Shepherd................William Walker
Conductor...............Ernest Ansermet

Listening to her sing Debussy’s Genevieve on a Texaco broadcast of PELLEAS ET MELISANDE, I was well-prepared to like her. And like her I did, so much so that I wrote her a letter; soon after, I received this elegant reply:

More samplings of Blanche Thebom’s singing below. In RHEINGOLD, her usual role was Fricka, but I’m partial to her recording of Erda’s Warning:

Blanche Thebom – Weiche Wotan weiche! ~ RHEINGOLD

Blanche Thebom – Mon coeur s´ouvre a ta vois ~ SAMSON & DALILA

Blanche Thebom – Wolf ~ Um Mitternacht

~ Oberon

June 28, 2019
Die Meistersinger von Hamburg ~ 1970

Above: Giorgio Tozzi as Hans Sachs and Richard Cassilly as Walther von Stoltzing

Author: Oberon

I plucked a DVD of Wagner’s Die Meistersinger off the shelf at the Library of the Performing Arts; it was described as a “studio production from the Hamburg State Opera, 1970”. I had no idea what to expect, but I ended up really loving it.

Purists will kvetch over the fact that about 25 minutes of music has been cut, including parts of David’s long monolog in Act I and the Apprentices Dance in Act III. The cuts were apparently made so as to conform to the four hours allotted for a television presentation. Since the David is very fine, and since the overall performance is excellent, it’s too bad that the cuts had to be made. They did not, however, affect my great enjoyment of the performance.

Sets are ‘suggested’ rather than built. The opera is fully staged, in appropriate costumes; the singers appear to be lip-syncing to a pre-made recording, and they all do a splendid job of it…so good, in fact, that you can’t really tell.

Leopold Ludwig leads a stylish reading of the overture; throughout the performance, he sets perfect tempi and ideally balances the comedy and chaos against the intimacy, passion, and humanity that pervade this marvelous opera.

The filming makes us part of the action. In Act I, the lively apprentices tease David whilst setting up for the meeting of the Masters: we are part of their work and their play. The apprentices, by the way, are a handsome bunch of boys, each with his own personality. In live performances, petite women from the chorus are sometimes pressed into service in this ensemble group, so as to sing the higher-lying phrases. Here, the boys seem to tackle those lines in falsetto.

Once the masters have convened, we are right in the thick of their debates: the camera sweeps and zooms in as opinions are expressed and reactions are caught on film. An expert bunch of singing-actors, we get a vivid feeling of each Master as an individual. And later, we even go inside the Marker’s curtained booth as Walther von Stoltzing sings his heart out in his trial song…to no avail.

The conversations, comings and goings, furtive lovers’ meetings, and Beckmesser’s silly serenade (mistaking ‘Lene for Eva) in Act II lead up to a convincingly bumptious “riot”. In Act III, the intimate scene of Sachs urging Stolzing onward in the composing of the “Prize Song”, and of Beckmesser’s pilfering of said song, and of the blessèd joy of the great quintet, gives way to the meadow on St. John’s Day – a vast space with only a gallery for the Masters, a chair for Eva, and the platform from which the “Prize Song” becomes an immortal melody. The triumph of true love is celebrated by all.

The cast is superb in every regard. Each singer has the measure of his or her role, both vocally and in characterization. There’s little in terms of theatricality to come between us and these folks as real townspeople, and the story unfolds with complete naturalness.

Giorgio Tozzi is for me simply a perfect Hans Sachs; he was, in fact, the very first singer I saw in this role at The Met in 1968. More than that, Tozzi played a huge part in my developing passion for opera: the first basso voice I came to love, his arias from NABUCCO and SIMON BOCCANEGRA were on the first operatic LP set I every acquired; he was Don Giovanni in the first opera I attended at the (Old) Met, and later he was my first Daland and Jacopo Fiesco. I saw Tozzi onstage for the last time as Oroveso in NORMA at Hartford, CT, in 1978; he was so vivid as the almost deranged high priest of the Druids.

Here in this MEISTERSINGER film, Tozzi (above) is everything I want in a Sachs: vocally at ease in every aspect of the wide-ranging music, his singing warm, his portrayal so human and so rich in detail. His two monologs (Flieder– and Wahn-) are beautifully sung and deeply felt, and his impassioned final address to the citizens of Nuremberg – a warning against the intrusion of foreign powers on their daily lives – rings true today. It is so pleasing to have Tozzi’s magnificent Sachs preserved for the ages.

Arlene Saunders (above, as Eva) is another singer to whom I feel a strong attachment, as well as a sense of gratitude: over a span of time, I saw Ms. Saunders singing four vastly different roles, making a memorable impression in each. First was her Anne Trulove when the Hamburg Opera brought THE RAKE’S PROGRESS came to The Met in 1967; Ms. Saunders’ pealing lyricism in her aria and ‘cabaletta‘ left such a lovely impression. Later, she was a surprisingly thrilling Minnie in FANCIULLA DEL WEST at New York City Opera, a movingly vulnerable and hopeful Elsa in LOHENGRIN at Hartford’s Bushnell Auditorium, and strikingly beautiful, touching, and wonderfully-sung Marschallin at Boston.

In this Hamburg MEISTERSINGER, we first see Saunders’ adorable face looking up from her prayer-book in church, secretly thrilled by the attention of the tall knight who is captivated by her. From there to the end, Ms. Saunders endears and charms us in every moment of the role of Eva.

Richard Cassilly (above, with Ms. Saunders as Eva) is an imposing and big-voiced Stolzing; he towers over his beloved Ev’chen, and indeed over most everyone in the film. Often seeming stiff and dour, the tenor blossoms into smiles whenever Eva is near. The knight’s pride, insecurity, and hopefulness are all expressed in Mr. Cassilly’s acting; as to his singing, it is big, warm, and winning. The scene of the ‘birth’ of the “Prize Song” – and of Eva’s hearing it for the first time – is very moving to an old romantic like myself.

Toni Blankenheim (above, with Giorgio Tozzi as Sachs at the end of Act I) scores in one of his greatest roles, Beckmesser. In the hands of such an imaginative singing-actor, this annoyingly vain character finally moves us in Blankenheim’s portrayal of his defeat. The baritone also convinces us that he is actually playing the lute. (There is apparently a similar filmed production from Hamburg of Berg’s WOZZECK with Blankenheim in the title-role and Sena Jurinac as Marie; I want to see it!)

Above: Gerhard Unger and Ursula Boese as David and Magdalene

Petite of build, tenor Gerhard Unger with his boyish face does not seem out of place among the apprentices. Unger is a first-rate, “voicey” character singer and an impetuous actor. As his slightly older betrothed, Magdalene, Ursula Boese is wise and warm-hearted whilst also being a sly conspirator in getting everything to go well for Eva and Stolzing. Both Unger and Boese sing very well indeed.

Basso Ernst Wiemann (above) sang nearly 75 performances at The Met from 1961 to 1969, including the roles of Fafner, Hunding, Hagen, the Commendatore, Rocco, King Henry, and Daland in broadcasts of these operas that I was hearing for the very first time. As Pogner in this film of MEISTERSINGER, Wiemann displays his ample, seasoned basso tones in a warmly paternal portrayal.

The one singer in a major role with whom I was totally unfamiliar is Hans-Otto Kloose (above), who plays an upbeat, gregarious Kothner. In both his portrayal and his singing, Mr. Kloose excels. He was a beloved member of the Hamburg State Opera ensemble for thirty years, starting in 1960, giving more than 1,800 performances with the Company. For all that, I cannot seem to find other samples of his singing.

The Meistersingers include both veterans and jünglings: among the latter, Franz Grundheber is an extremely handsome Hermann Ortel. As a final link among the singers in this film to some of my earliest operatic memories, Vladimir Ruzdak, who sang Valentin in my first FAUST at the Old Met, appears here as a baritonal Nightwatchman.

“All’s well as ends better,” as they say in The Shire. Sachs is crowned with a laurel wreath by Eva at the feast of St. John’s Day in Olde Nürnberg.

~ Oberon

June 23, 2019
Elīna Garanča ~ MET Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

Above: mezzo-soprano Elīna Garanča

~ Author: Oberon

Friday June 14th, 2019 – This evening, The MET Orchestra paired Mahler’s marvelous Rückert Lieder with Anton Bruckner’s sprawling 7th symphony. Yannick Nézet-Séguin was on the podium, and the soloist for the Mahler was Elīna Garanča.

As Ms. Garanča, in a strikingly Spring-like white gown, and the conductor made their way center-stage, the mezzo towered over the maestro. M. Nézet-Séguin wore a clingy white shirt that seemed calculated to show off his physique; it looked kind of silly.

The German Romantic poet Friedrich Rückert (1788-1866) was one of Gustav Mahler’s favorite poets, and he set a number of his poems to music, including the Kindertotenlieder (“Songs on the Death of Children”).

Mahler composed four of the five Rückert Lieder in 1901, initially to be sung with piano accompaniment; very soon after, he orchestrated them. The fifth of the Rückert Lieder, “Liebst du um Schönheit?” (‘If you love for beauty…’) was composed a bit later, and orchestrated by Mahler’s publisher. The songs do not constitute a formal song-cycle, nor is there any prescribed order of performing them.

Ms. Garanča began with “Blicke mir nicht in die Lieder” (“Do not look at my songs…”), in which poet and composer seem to be warning the listener not to be too inquisitive about the song-writing process: it’s the finished product that matters. This light and almost playful song was deliciously voiced by Ms. Garanča, whilst the woodwind players of The MET Orchestra buzzed charmingly about, like busy bees.

In “Ich atmet’ einen linden Duft” (“I breathed a gentle fragrance…”) the mezzo-soprano brought an intriguing mix of calm and intensity. Her use of dynamics and her lovely sustaining of the vocal line were beautifully supported by the oboe, horn, and flute. The singer’s lower range has a special warmth and glow: rich without seeming over-burdened.

A change of mood comes with “Um Mitternacht” (“At midnight”) which tells of the poet’s battle with darkness (both in the literal and and the poetic sense) until he finally leaves it all in God’s hands. Ms. Garanča brought profound beauty of tone to the song, giving it an almost operatic dimension. Her use of straight tone at times was beguiling, whilst throughout her expressive, passionate colouring of the words kept us engrossed. It seemed that the conductor allowed a passing trace of vulgarity in some of the wind playing, and he allowed the orchestra to cover the voice in the closing passages of the song.

“Liebst du um Schönheit” (“If you love for beauty…”) was the first Mahler song I ever heard, sung at a 1972 recital by the delectable Frederica von Stade. A few years later, the unique voice of Patricia Brooks gave the song a different feeling. And it’s a song I very much associate with my late friend, the Japanese contralto Makiko Narumi. The words, in translation, could have been the theme song of my long career as a promiscuous romantIc:

“If you love for beauty,

Do not love me!

Love the sun,

with her golden hair.

If you love for youth,

Do not love not me!

Love the spring,

Which is young each year.

If you love for riches,

Do not love not me!

Love the mermaid,

she has many lustrous pearls.

But If you love for love,

Then…yes! Love me!

Love me,

And I shall always love you.”

Every note and word of Ms. Garanča’s singing of this jewel of a song was simply exquisite; she seemed to savour the joy of having such a fascinating voice with which to allure us. Though once again the orchestra infringed on the voice at times, her perfect rendering of the charming “…o, ja!…” as the song neared its end gave me a shiver of delight.

I’ve never understood why a singer would end this group of songs with anything but “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” (“I have been lost to the world…”), probably the single most profound lied ever written. The poem tells of the peace achieved by the poet’s withdrawal from the turmoil of the daily life. The MET’s wind players were simply gorgeous here, infusing the music with a tender sense of longing and resignation. Ms. Garanča’s singing was haunting in its range of colour and gradations of vibrato; she drew us into that place of refuge that Rückert and Mahler have created for the soul in search of hermitage: what more can we ask of a singer?

The poem ends: “I live alone in my Heaven…in my love…in my song.” The touching opening theme is heard again from the English horn, fading to a whisper.

Above: Ms. Garanča and Maestro Nézet-Séguin performing the Rückert Lieder; photo by Steve Sherman

An over-eager fan rather spoilt the end of the mezzo-soprano’s performance with a very loud “Brava!” before the music had completely faded away. A wave of applause and cheers then filled the august Hall, where so much glorious music has been heard thru the passing decades. Ms. Garanča basked in the glow of a prolonged standing ovation, which her luminous singing so fully deserved.

Following the interval, Maestro Nézet-Séguin returned for the Bruckner 7th. This was my first live experience of this work, which begins so magically with a string tremolo from which the glorious main theme arises. Throughout most of the first movement, I felt as engaged – and even exalted – as I had expected to feel, since I like Bruckner’s music in general.

But in the ensuing Adagio, I found the performance drifting away from me. There were some iffy moments from the horns, the music seemed periodically to lose its shape, and the movement began to feel endless. The Scherzo which follows was singularly lacking in wit and sparkle, and while its tranquil – almost wistful – trio section is pleasant enough to hear, pleasant music tends to get boring after a while.

At last, the Finale is reached; I hoped that Bruckner would take the driver’s seat and careen madly to the finish line. Instead, the music came in fits and starts, seeming to fold in on itself and retreat periodically into modestly attractive wind interludes. At last: a big statement. But this was soon replaced by more dawdling. Frankly, it couldn’t end soon enough. I found myself craving Bizet’s Symphony in C.

Afterwards, I asked myself why the Bruckner 7th had seemed like such a disappointment this evening. My friend Ben Weaver suggested that perhaps it was the performance, rather than the music, that had let me down. But it’s something deeper.

In search of answers, I read some on-line articles by music-lovers who stated that Bruckner’s music often eluded them. One common theme in many of these writings was Bruckner’s seeming lack of a sex life: simplistic perhaps, but on the other hand we know that Mozart, Liszt, Wagner, Debussy, Puccini, and Mahler were men of passion, and it comes thru in their music. Bruckner’s passion seems to have been for God, and some writers went so far as to say that Bruckner probably lived and died a virgin. This may account for a feeling of sterility in some of his music, and why it doesn’t reach me. Oddly, reading about Bruckner and looking at some pictures of the man, I began thinking of Mike Pence.

Speaking of people’s sex lives, in tonight’s Playbill note about The MET Orchestra, the name of James Levine – the man universally credited with turning the opera house’s orchestra into a world-class concert ensemble – is conspicuously absent. This gloss seems so childish, but I suppose in an age when slavery in America and the Holocaust in Europe are being written out of text books, anything is possible.

~ Oberon

June 14, 2019
Shostakovich ~ Beethoven @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: Maestro Jaap van Zweden; photo by Chris Lee

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday May 22nd, 2019 – As their 2018-2019 season winds down, The New York Philharmonic offered a well-contrasted pairing of works tonight at Geffen Hall: Shostakovich’s Chamber Symphony and Beethoven’s 3rd symphony: the Eroica. The Philharmonic musicians were on top form, and the orchestra’s Music Director, Jaap van Zweden, led a performance that ended with an enthusiastic ovation.

For all the concert’s musical excellence, extraneous factors made the evening something of a trial. The lobby at Geffen Hall during the half-hour leading up to the performance’s start time has lately become weirdly chaotic: it has the feeling of an airport, with staff folks yelling at you to go here or there, and long, snaking lines between the velvet ropes to pass thru the “non-invasive” scanner only to be wanded once you’ve gotten the green light. It’s quite stressful, and hardly conducive to the state of mind one hopes to be in when a concert starts: calm, focused, receptive.

The opening minutes of the Shostakovich featured a chorus of coughers from the audience; the woman next to us coughed throughout the concert while the fellow in front of us nearly busted a lung with one coughing fit: I actually thought he might pass out. Aside from ruining the music, germs are being spread. If you are sick, be courteous enough stay home.

But the performance of the Shostakovich Chamber Symphony was simply thrilling. This work is an arrangement of the composer’s 1960 String Quartet No. 8, Op. 110, by Rudolf Barshai, a renowned violist and conductor who founded the Moscow Chamber Orchestra in 1956. Barshai’s transcription honors the original instrumentation: it’s set for large string ensemble. And it’s simply magnificent to hear.

The symphony is in five movements, played without pause. From a somber start emerges a soft, sorrowing violin melody (beautifully played by concertmaster Frank Huang). Six basses bring a sense of grandeur to the music, which is richly layered. Suddenly, a sizzling energy flares up: the basses dig in, with swirling violins and slashing celli, as the music becomes a huge dance. For a spell, violins and violas compete; then the music comes to a sudden halt.

The violas set the pace for a waltz, played by the violins, which later slows down and fades away. A dirge-like passage is followed by a poignant lament. Carter Brey’s cello sings to us in its highest range, a song which Mr. Huang’s violin takes up. The music meanders a bit, ebbing and flowing, before a magical fading finish.

This work, and the Philharmonic’s playing of it, was one of the highlights of the season for me. Mssrs. Huang and Brey were enthusiastically applauded as they rose for a bow. I was surprised to read that this was The Philharmonic’s premiere performance of this symphony.

I must admit that I don’t find Beethoven’s Eroica all that interesting. Its initial theme:

…reminds me of a simple melodic scrap I wrote for a compulsory exercise in music theory class in high school. We hear it repeatedly in the symphony’s Allegro con brio, and to me it’s tiresome.

Sherry Sylar’s oboe solos and some warm-toned horn playing captured my interest in the Adagio assai, but I don’t think Beethoven’s idea of a funeral march shows much imagination. It feels aimless, missing the weighted grief of Chopin’s or the epic grandeur of Wagner’s (and for wit, there’s always Gounod). The hunting horns in the Scherzo again reminded me of high school, where I struggled to be a proficient horn player, but without success. Ms. Sylar and clarinetist Anthony McGill illuminated their solo bits in the Finale, but I found my mind wandering.

Whenever a musical work that is highly regarded by many fails to reach me, it makes me feel deficient. What am I not getting? So it was interesting to read in the program notes that Beethoven’s 3rd was not initially regarded as a masterpiece, but seemed instead overly long and lacking a sense of unity.

Still feeling that the Eroica has eluded me, I went to a classical music chat room to see if anyone else felt as I do about this symphony. Among the many posts heaping praise on Beethoven’s 3rd, someone wrote: “I would never deny the power and genius of the Eroica, but I never want to sit through it again.”

The evening honored musicians who are retiring from The Philharmonic this season. One who I will especially miss is violinist Anna Rabinova (above), whose dedicated artistry I have come to know thru her appearances at the Philharmonic Ensembles concerts at Merkin Hall. I hope she’ll continue to be part of the City’s musical scene in the coming years.

~ Oberon

May 22, 2019
Ernst Kozub

Above: Ernst Kozub as Lohengrin

The German tenor Ernst Kozub’s career is not well-documented. Born at Duisburg in 1924, he developed a thriving career, singing mainly Wagnerian roles. He performed extensively throughout Germany, and also at Covent Garden and Barcelona.

John Culshaw wanted Kozub to be the Siegfried on Sir Georg Solti’s recording of the complete RING Cycle for Decca. It’s believed that ill health prevented the tenor from learning the arduous role, and he was replaced as Siegfried by the veteran heldentenor Wolfgang Windgassen.

Ernst Kozub died on December 27, 1971, aged 47, at Bad Soden, Germany. Three weeks prior to his passing, he had sung Tannhauser in Italy. The cause of his early death is uncertain; it has been attributed to leukemia by some sources, and to a chronic heart disorder by others.

Here are some samples of Mr. Kozub’s singing:

Ernst Kozub – Die Zauberflöte ~ Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön

Melitta Muszely & Ernst Kozub – Nun In Der Nächt’gen Stille ~ OTHELLO

Claire Watson & Ernst Kozub – WALKURE ~ Act I finale – London 1964 – Solti

~ Oberon

May 21, 2019
Ballets Russes @ Chamber Music Society

Above: violinist Nicolas Dautricourt, photographed by Bernard Martinez

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday May 19th, 2019 – For their final concert of the 2018-2019 season at Alice Tully Hall, Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center offered a program of works by composers associated with Serge de Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes. It was a long program, full of rewards.

Jennifer Johnson Cano, the Metropolitan Opera mezzo-soprano who in February shared a memorable program with tenor Matthew Polenzani at Zankel Hall, sang works by Manuel de Falla and Maurice Ravel, and a septet of marvelous musicians were heard – in varying configurations – in these, plus music by Debussy, Prokofiev, and Stravinsky.

Ms. Cano (above, in a Matthu Placek portrait) opened the concert with Manuel de Falla’s Psyché in which she was joined by Tara Helen O’Connor (flute), Nicolas Dautricourt (violin), Yura Lee (viola), David Finckel (cello), and Bridget Kibbey (harp). Composed in 1924, as a setting of a poem by Georges Jean-Aubry, this is the awakening song of Psyché, a mortal woman whose beauty has caught the eye of Cupid, god of Love, who she will eventually marry.

The flûte enchantée of Tara Helen O’Connor opens the work; the addition of M. Dautricourt’s ethereal violin and Ms. Kibbey’s delicate harp create an exotic atmosphere. Ms. Cano’s singing – clear, warm, and wonderfully nuanced – was vastly pleasing; in her unaccompanied opening passage, the sheer beauty of her tone and its evenness throughout the registers marked her as a singer of exceptional natural gifts.

Adding depth and colour to the enticing ‘orchestration’ were Ms. Lee’s viola and Mr. Finckel’s cello; overall the five instrumentalists created an impression of a larger ensemble thru the richness of their individual timbres. The music becomes urgent, and Ms. Cano’s singing golden, as flute trills and harp melismas lure the ear. Psyché this evening was an intoxicating delight.

For Maurice Ravel’s chamber arrangement of Shéhérazade, Ms. Cano and Ms. O’Connor returned, along with pianist Alessio Bax. It’s Mr. Bax’s delicate, silvery playing that sets the mood of the opening song, Asie. At “Je voudrais voir des assassins souriant“, passion builds: Ms. Cano brought an operatic quality to her performance at this point, rising to her steady and blooming upper range to fine effect. Asie has a little pendant at the end, full of lovely mystery. It ends on an exquisitely tapered note.

La flûte enchantée brings forth limpid, entrancing sounds from Ms. O’Connor’s flute, and the weaving together of voice, flute, and piano is hypnotic. The concluding song, L’indifferent, begins with a calm lullabye played by Mr. Bax. Ms. Cano’s beguiling singing, sometimes bringing straight tone into play, was a marvel of expressiveness.

Infringing on our enjoyment of the Ravel was the sound of text booklets dropping onto the floor, and a crash of something falling in the outside corridor. But Ms. Cano held to her course; this is a truly wonderful voice that I would love to hear in the music of Massenet’s Charlotte.

Above: harpist Bridget Kibbey

Mlles. O’Connor, Lee, and Kibbey then offered a sublime performance of Claude Debussy’s Sonata for Flute, Viola, and Harp, written in 1915. In an evening filled with marvelous sounds, the opening sustained flute tone of this sonata – taken up by the viola – sent chills thru me at the start of the Pastorale. The blend these three remarkable musicians produced was exceptional. A gentle animation arose – soft and merry – only to subside. Mlles. Lee and O’Connor duet, the viola deep and buzzy. Swirls of notes from the harp – and then from the flute – lingered on the air.

The Interlude commences with a viola melody underpinned by the harp, After a sprightly interjection, viola and flute play in unison, and the harp tapers to pianissimo.The viola is plucked, the music soft and swift. A percolating motif opens the Finale, like the break of dawn on a sunny day; after a momentary slowing down, the piece ends abruptly.

Prokofiev’s Sonata in D-major for Violin and Piano, Op. 94a, brought together Mssrs. Dautricourt and Bax for a fabulous performance that sparked a shouting, standing ovation from the crowd. Though the piece was composed in 1943 as a flute sonata, Prokofiev later obliged the great violinist David Oistrakh by creating a violin version, which premiered in 1944.

Mr. Dautricourt launched the sonata with a high sweet/melancholy song. As the music becomes increasingly animated, an ultra-familiar theme is heard, which will crop up several times along the way. Vibrant, agitated, march-like music ensues; Mr. Bax displays magic tricks of his own, and the movement has a lovely ending.

In the Scherzo, Mr. Dautricourt’s virtuosity is astounding. A demented, off-kilter dance commences, then slows to a high-lying interlude before resuming. The music, and the playing of it, are thrilling…and then it comes to a sudden halt.

The audience, who all evening applauded between movements, prompted the violinist to declare “Two more!” before commencing the Andante: a sorrowful song which tends to meander a bit over time, with a hint or two of of jazz thrown in; in the end it becomes high and eerie.

The concluding Allegro con brio dances along, with some respite for a poignant interlude before dancing on again. Moodiness briefly takes over, and then a rush to the finish. The applause began before the music stopped: Dautricourt/Bax are a winning team.

Lucille Chung and Alessio Bax (above, photographed by Lisa-Marie Mazzucco) joined together for the evening’s Fokine finale, saluting Diaghilev’s ground-breaking choreographer with a piano-four-hands arrangement of Igor Stravinsky’s Petrushka.

Despite more intrusions – a loud clang from the balcony, and the sound of something (or someone) falling – Stravinsky’s brilliance prevailed. For 40-minutes, the outstanding Bax/Chung duo sustained the vibrancy of a theatrical presentation; everything felt so alive – with dazzling rhythms and infinite colours – that the entire ballet danced in the mind. For their brilliant and generous playing, the couple were rewarded with hall-filling, joyous applause. What a way to end the season!

~ Oberon

May 19, 2019
@ My Met Score Desk for GOTTERDAMMERUNG

Above: the Norn Scene from the Lepage/Met Opera production of GOTTERDAMMERUNG

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday April 27th, 2019 matinee – The best thing about today’s matinee of Wagner’s GOTTERDAMMERUNG at The Met was the Norn Scene. With a mood of mystery and doom evoked by Maestro Philippe Jordan and the Met Orchestra in the prelude, the three singers who were weaving the ‘Rope of Destiny’ today were Ronnita Miller, Elizabeth Bishop, and Wendy Bryn Harmer. Each sounded splendid in her own way.

Ms. Miller has a rich, deep contralto timbre; Ms. Bishop a brighter quality with a strong feeling for lyricism; and Ms. Harmer an authentic Wagnerian soprano voice: house-filling, with an ample high range. Each has a prolonged solo passage, describing much that has transpired in the first three operas of the RING Cycle.

From her lush “Dammert der Tag?“, Ms. Miller had me in her thrall: such a dusky, abundant sound. She continued to fascinate me with “Die Nacht Weicht…” and concluded the scene with a deep plunge on “Hinab!” that had an other-worldly resonance.

Ms. Bishop, who has been an excellent Dido and Iphigénie at The Met, was likewise in excellent voice today, and she brought subtlety and point to the words. Ms. Harmer’s singing was huge and grandly styled, her high notes gleaming.

As the Norns descended to their mother, Erda, my hopes were high that the vocal standard they had set would be upheld as the afternoon progressed. In the interlude before the Dawn Duet, the noble horns and the Met’s fabulous clarinetist Inn-Hyuck Cho gave a sublime build-up to the entrance of Christine Goerke and Andreas Schager as Brünnhilde and Siegfried, the latter making his Met debut today.

Ms. Goerke got off to a fine start, but – later in the prologue – her notes around G above the staff seemed a bit sour, and the high-C was there – and long – but a shade flat. Mr. Schager has a voice of helden-power, with some brassiness cropping up, and a steady beat to the tone.

The Rhine Journey was light and lively at first, and then turned epic. At the Gibichung Hall, we meet Gunther (Evgeny Nikitin, darkish of timbre and firm-toned), Gutrune (Edith Haller, debuting in a role Ms. Harmer might have doubled), and Hagen (Eric Owens, somewhat lacking in the monumental power of a Salminen or a König). The conductor tended to cover Mr. Owens at times, but the bass-baritone was chilling as he described in whispers the potion with which he would ensnare Siegfried.

Siegfried arrives at the Gibichung Hall to the sound of bungled horn calls; blood-brotherhood is sworn, and the hero’s fate is sealed. Left alone, Mr. Owens in Hagen’s Watch sang well, but seemed more efficient than thrilling, and was unaided by the conductor.

The clarinets depict a return to Brünnhilde’s Rock, where Ms. Goerke impresses as she welcomes her sister Waltraute, sung by Michaela Schuster – the mezzo whose Klytemnnestra last season was so impressive. Ms. Schuster brought a wealth of nuance to her narrative, which had a sense of intimacy as well as urgency: doom is at hand, she warns. Bringing a spine-tingling sense of introspection to her description of the resigned, weary Wotan, Ms. Schuster’s singing seemed truly personal, showing great vocal control; telling Brünnhilde that their father had spoken wistfully of her, the mezzo’s low notes were so alive. And she was simply glorious at “Erlöst war‘ Gott und Welt…” Her plea to Brünnhilde to abandon the ring causes the final rift between the two sisters: with a desperate cry, Waltraute rushes away.

The excitement as Brünnhilde senses Siegfried’s return was somewhat dulled by Ms. Goerke’s non-blooming top range. But in the final moments of the act, Mr. Schager suddenly sounded like the tenor we’d been reading about.

I would have liked to have heard Tomasz Konieczny’s Alberich in his scene with Hagen that opens Act II, but decided instead that the RING was over for me this season, and I headed home. The good has been very good, but there’s also been quite a lot of singing that left me feeling indifferent. It’s not a matter of how these operas should sound, but how they can sound.

~ Oberon

April 26, 2019
@ My Met Score Desk for CLEMENZA DI TITO

Above: Matthew Polenzani as Tito

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday April 20th, 2019 matinee – One of my favorites among the Mozart operas, LA CLEMENZA DI TITO is a melodious masterpiece. Though THE MAGIC FLUTE is considered the composer’s final opera, that work was largely complete when he set about writing CLEMENZA.

LA CLEMENZA DI TITO was something of a throw-back for Mozart: it was written in the old style of opera seria – in which a progression of set-piece (arias, duets, and small ensembles) are linked by brief passages of recitative – to celebrate the coronation of Austrian Emperor Leopold II as King of Bohemia in Prague in 1791.

This formality of structure is illuminated by some of Mozart’s most personal arias: Sesto’s “Parto, parto” and “Deh, per questo istante solo“, Tito’s “Se all’impero, amici Dei”, Annio’s “Tu fosti tradito“, Servilia’s “S’altro che lagrime“. and Vitellia’s “Non piu di fiori“, each of which ideally reflects the personality of the character singing it.

Giving the overture a nice, weighty feel, conductor Lothar Koenigs presided over a well-paced performance. A sterling continuo duo – Davis Heiss, cello, and Bryan Wagorn, harpsichord – added much to the afternoon’s pleasure, and thrilling playing from principal clarinetist Inn-Hyuck Cho (as both clarinet and basset horn soloist in “Parto, parto” and “Non piu di fiori” respectively) was a complete joy to experience.

In the title-role, Matthew Polenzani’s pliant and expressive singing flowed forth with Italianate lyricism, the voice clear and sure, etched in with detailed pianissimi along the way (most notably in “Del piu sublime soglio“) to keep the music fresh. The tenor – whose recent Zankel Hall concert was one of the highlights of the current season – showed great sensitivity in the recitatives, especially in the long scene where he weighs his feelings before passing judgement on Sesto. “Se fosse intorno al soglio” showed expert dynamic control, and the showpiece “Se all’impero, amici Dei” in Act II was triumphant.

Joyce DiDonato (above) has found a perfect role in Sesto, joining such marvels as Tatiana Troyanos , Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, and Elīna Garanča in the highest echelon of interpreters of this demanding part. Ms. DiDonato, ever alert to the words, sang with dazzling technique and a vibrant sense of dramatic urgency.

In the great aria, “Parto, parto“, Ms. DiDonato reveled in the vocal and expressive possibilities Mozart has afforded her. After displaying moving vulnerability – her hushed murmuring of “Guardami…!” was sublime – the mezzo was at her finest as she sailed thru neat-as-a-pin coloratura effortlessly (and perfectly matched by the clarinet), winning a big ovation.

Incredibly, Ms. DiDonato surpassed herself in the second act aria, “Deh, per questo istante solo” where, with touches of straight tone along the way, she sang with deep feeling, expressing the young man’s passion and remorse. In the second verse, tiny embellishments were woven in, and the aria’s fiery finish brought down the house.

Elza van den Heever is a puzzling singer: her broad repertoire – from bel canto to Strauss, Wagner and (next season), Berg – seems to indicate a soprano who has not settled on a fach. Which is fine, really, except that the varying demands of the roles she is singing seems to be affecting her tone at times, which can turn rather shrill.

As Vitellia, she was uneven in this role’s wide-ranging music, and though she touched on the high-D in Act I and successfully reached downward to the low-G in “Non piu di fiori“, the voice lacks sheer beauty and is not really all that fluent in fiorature. The highest notes – a brilliant top-B for one – popped out clearly, but seemed disconnected to the rest of the voice. I really didn’t know what to make of her performance. But for some reason, the audience – perhaps spurred on by the MetTitles – found Vitellia to be something of a comic figure; the soprano was well-received at her bows.

Emily D’Angelo as Annio seemed rather muted at first, and Ms. DiDonato simply drowned her young colleague out in their beautiful Act I duet. But Ms. D’Angelo soon made her mark on the performance, with a finely-rendered “Tu fosti tradito” capped by a nice top-A. The audience loved her.

Lovely, graceful Mozart singing from Ying Fang as Servilia, recalling Hei-Kyung Hong’s beautiful Met debut in this role. Ms. Fang, with sweet-toned lyricism, made “S’altro che lagrime” (perhaps the opera’s most attractive melody) a tender delight.

Christian van Horn was a superb vocal presence as Publio, showing the advantage of putting a stellar singer in a relatively small – but musically important – role. Bravo!

The houselights slowly came up during the opera’s finale: a celebratory touch. The singers were all warmly applauded as they took their bows on the classic Jean-Pierre Ponnelle set.

Metropolitan Opera House April 20th, 2019 matinee
LA CLEMENZA DI TITO Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Tito.......................Matthew Polenzani Vitellia...................Elza van den Heever Sesto......................Joyce DiDonato Servilia...................Ying Fang Annio......................Emily D'Angelo Publio.....................Christian Van Horn Berenice...................Anne Dyas David Heiss, Cello Bryan Wagorn, Harpsichord Inn-Hyuck Cho, Clarinet and Basset Horn soloist
Conductor..................Lothar Koenigs

Intermissions at The Met these days can often put a damper on even the best of performances, but this afternoon’s single interval brought an unexpected treat: clarinetist Inn-Hyuck Cho (above) remained in the pit for the entire half-hour, practicing the basset horn part of “Non piu di fiori”. What a mesmerizing sound! The Met is so very fortunate to have this splendid musician in their orchestra.

~ Oberon

April 21, 2019
My First WALKURE

Above: Jon Vickers, my first Siegmund

~ Author: Oberon

With Wagner’s RING Cycle currently playing at The Met, I’ve been thinking back to when I saw these operas for the first time. My first RHEINGOLD was conducted by Herbert von Karajan; it was part of a thrilling weekend I spent at The Met in 1969.

It wasn’t until 1975 that I saw WALKURE, in a production based on Karajan’s Salzburg Festival production. Karajan of course had been due to stage and conduct the entire Cycle at The Met, but he never got beyond the first two operas before withdrawing from the project.

Of my first WALKURE, I wrote in my diary:

“First time – an uneven performance: the good moments were very good, but much of the performance was a letdown.

Sixten Ehrling (above) did a really great job; he kept things moving, allowed the singers to be heard at all times, and his reading had warmth and clarity. The Valkyries were a mixed lot [I am not sure why I underlined two of the singers’ names on my cast page, especially as people like Marcia Baldwin, Batyah Godfrey, and Jean Kraft were favorites of mine at the time]. Bengt Rundgren was an impressive Hunding.

Mignon Dunn as Fricka (above) got off to a rough start, but quickly got things in gear and was very fine. [She was another top favorite of mine, and in 1977 established herself as a star with her portrayal of Ortrud in LOHENGRIN].

Donald McIntyre (above) as Wotan was truly effective: well-sung, very involved, a first-class actor. His long Act II monologue was a high point of the performance.

Birgit Nilsson was not good as Brunnhilde. She looks really old, was uninvolved as an actress, and she behaved stupidly during the curtain calls. Her “Ho-Jo-To-Ho!” was full of swoops and off-pitch notes. Most of Act II was very ambiguous pitch-wise, and her voice seems to have diminished in size and scope. In Act III, she sounded somewhat better, but pitch was really a problem, and spoiled much of her performance.

Janis Martin as Sieglinde was very good in Act I, but after that she slid downhill. She does not have the ringing upper range for this music, and seemed always to be singing at full-force. Stage-wise she was not exciting at all. Considering all this, I was surprised that she received a rapturous ovation during the curtain calls.

Only one word is needed for Jon Vickers’ Siegmund: perfect! Bravo!!“

April 19, 2019
@ My Met Score Desk for WALKURE

Above: Stuart Skelton and Eva-Maria Westbroek as Siegmund and Sieglinde/a Met Opera photo

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday March 30th, 2019 matinee – I admit that I am not feeling excited about the Met’s current RING Cycle performances. Much as I have been starved for Wagner in recent Met seasons, and despite the RING being very high on my list of favorite works, a lot of the casting this time around is uninspiring. And, if the free-standing RHEINGOLD I saw recently was any indication, Philippe Jordan’s Wagner conducting doesn’t really send me. So I went to this afternoon’s WALKURE simply because it’s WALKURE.

En route to the theater, I encountered Michael Volle, the alternate Wotan, heading for the Met’s stage door in the passageway under Lincoln Center. I wondered if there would be a cast change, but – after a delayed start of fifteen minutes – the performance commenced with the announced cast.

I did not stay for the third act; after debating with myself, I decided to leave before enduring another prolonged intermission. Then on the train going home, I thought: “What if that was your last WALKURE…ever?”

Blasts of frigid air (common up in the Family Circle boxes) continued throughout the performance; whilst waiting for the House to go dark, we heard a gorgeous cacophony of Wagnerian leitmotifs from the musicians warming up.

The singers today ranged from stellar to acceptable, but Maestro Jordan seemed far more impressive here than in the RHEINGOLD, and the orchestra playing was – for the most part – thrilling, both in its overall resonance and in the many featured opportunities; the cello (especially before “Kühlende Labung gab mir der Quell“), the clarinet (as the mead is tasted, and later in the prelude to the Todesverkundigung ), the somber horns and heartbeat timpani in that magnificent Annunciation of Death…and countless other phrases.

Stuart Skelton’s Siegmund seemed to me to stand firmly in the top echelon of the role’s interpreters of the last half-century, alongside Jon Vickers and James King. Both musically and as a character, this role suits Mr. Skelton far better than Otello. His Siegmund has both power and poetry. The son of a god, he is deeper and more thoughtful than he might seem on the surface; for, in his own way, Siegmund has great nobility…and great humanity. In finding and liberating Sieglinde, he finds a joy and purpose in life hitherto denied him; that it will last less than a day makes him all the more poignant. His overwhelming tenderness towards his sister-bride, his awe in encountering Brunnhilde, and his helpless rage at his father’s deceit are all vividly expressed in his music. And Mr. Skelton took all of this to heart: with generous lyricism, warmth of tone, and vivid declamation, he brought Siegmund palpably to life, making him the central figure of the opera.

Mr. Skelton’s Sword Monolog in Act I was among the very finest I have ever heard. But even before that, he had so many wonderful passages of clear-voiced, expressive singing: ” Kühlende Labung…”, and the great subtlety and feeling of resignation he brought to “Nun weißt du, fragende Frau, warum ich Friedmund nicht heiße!”

The mysterious, uneasy orchestral prelude to the Monolog set the mood for our tenor, who caught every nuance of the text and brought vocal colors into play with masterful modulations of dynamic. Sublime tenderness at “…ein Weib sah’ ich, wonnig und hehr...” was followed moments later by Mr. Skelton’s phenomenal sustaining of the cries of ” Wälse! Wälse!“, so tonally steady and true, whilst the orchestra generated white heat. The trumpet then rang out with the Sword Motif. Magnificent moments!

The tenor’s energy seemed to flag momentarily after these arduous pages of dramatic singing, but he quickly attained peak level again with a beautifully poetic “Winterstürme“. From thence, Mr. Skelton and his Sieglinde, Eva-Maria Westbroek, gave a strikingly passionate account of the final pages of Act I, from the growing excitement as they begin to realize who they are, (Skelton’s “Du bist das bild das ich in mir barg” – “Yours is the image I held in my heart!”…yet another perfect moment) thru the drawing of the sword from the tree, and their escape into the night.

Ms. Westbroek’s singing overcame the distractions of a widening vibrato and insecurity at the top of her range by sheer willpower: her passionate commitment to the music and to the character made her vocal flaws seem irrelevant. The soprano’s rendering of the narrative “Der Männer Sippe” had its vocal ups and downs, but underlying her singing was this deep raging fire: a hope for freedom…and love. This more than compensated for a lack of ‘ring’ in her upper notes. “Du bist der Lenz” likewise had many lovely touches along the way: and then the A-flat loomed. She got it.

Sieglinde describes the sensation of having heard Siegmund’s voice before, as a child; and then, at “Doch nein! Ich hörte sie neulich” (“But no, I heard it of late…”) Ms. Westbroek suddenly cut loose vocally, as if liberated. This launched a magnificent outpouring of emotion and song from both singers as the sibling-lovers surrendered to the inevitable. The soprano staked out a long, resounding top-A as she named Siegmund. And the music rolled on, in an unstoppable flood of hope and desire.

A titanic ovation rocked the house and, as has long been a tradition at this point, the two singers – Ms. Westbroek and Mr. Skelton – stepped out for a bow as the crowd went wild. Günther Groissböck, our excellent Hunding, joined them and the applause re-doubled. It seemed like old times.

Mr. Groissböck (above) is not a cavernous-toned basso in the manner of Martti Talvela or Matti Salminen; the Groissböck Hunding is leaner and meaner. His voice has power, authority, and insinuation. Having patiently listened to Siegmund’s tale of woe, the basso kicks out the blocks with “Ich weiß ein wildes Geschlecht!” and delivers a knockout punch with “Mein Haus hütet, Wölfing, dich heute…” Bravissimo!

Jamie Barton’s Fricka was prodigiously sung; the top notes sometimes have a slightly desperate feel, and to me her over-use of chest voice runs counter to the character: she is the queen of the gods, not a desperate, ex-communicated Sicilian peasant. Barton’s parting lines to Brunnhilde were more to the point: a self-righteous woman calmly dealing from a position of power; a wife who has the upper hand.

Greer Grimsley’s voice is now rather time-worn, but he knows the role of Wotan inside-out and makes a vibrant impression through his deep understanding of the character, using the words as a dramatic springboard, and hurling vocal thunderbolts at just the right moments. His long monolog in Act II was rich in detail and feeling, and his dismissal of Hunding was a memorable moment: “Geh!” first as a quiet command, then in a snarling fit of rage.

A lot of water has flowed under the bridge of time since Christine Goerke gave her revelatory performances of the Dyer’s Wife in FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN at The Met in 2013. At that time, the huge Met contract she was offered following her triumph seemed both exciting and amply justified. But the ensuing seasons, during which Goerke has put her voice to unstinting use in the most demanding repertory, have taken a toll: notes above the staff are thinned out and approximated now, the power of the voice has lessened, and today there were passing pitch difficulties in the mid-range. Perhaps to compensate, the soprano seemed to be over-enunciating the text, spitting out and biting off her words.

The soprano got off to a rocky start with a helter-skelter Battle Cry. But Ms. Goerke settled in for the opera’s heart and soul: the Todesverkundigung (Annunciation of Death), where the music lies very much in her comfort zone. Maestro Jordan took this scene a bit faster than I’d have liked, and sometimes let the voices be covered. The music is full of foreboding as Brunnhilde tells Siegmund he will die in the coming fight against Hunding, after which she will bear him to Valhalla; there, as Ms. Goerke beautifully tells him, he will be greeted by Wish-Maidens who will serve and delight him.

When Siegmund asks if Sieglinde can come with him into the afterlife, Brunnhilde/Goerke replies – meltingly lovely of tone – “Erdenluft muß sie noch athmen” (“Earthly air must she keep breathing…”). Siegmund then rejects the bliss of Valhalla. When Brunnhilde chides him for placing his love for this “poor, ailing woman” above the glory of immortality, Siegmund’s reply is one of the great crushing dismissals in all opera:

“So young and fair you shine before me,
yet how cold and hard is your heart!
If you can only mock me,
then take yourself hence,
you cruel, merciless maid!
Or if you hunger for my distress,
then freely feast on my woe;
let my grief quicken your envious heart:
But of Valhalla’s loveless raptures
speak no more to me!”

No mortal has ever answered Brunnhilde thus; now, moved by Siegmund’s plight and her eyes opened to her father’s deceit, Brunnhilde vows that Siegmund shall win the coming fight.

This leaves the stage now to Mr. Skelton’s Siegmund. Gearing up for the battle, he looks upon the sleeping Sieglinde and sings – with infinite tenderness: “So slumber on, till the fight be fought, and we find our peace and joy!”

The ominous blaring of Hunding’s hunting horns is heard. And the fight is on! The voices of Skelton and Groissböck – so alive in the House – threaten one another. The orchestra storms wildly. Brunnhilde shields Siegmund, but Wotan suddenly appears out of nowhere, shatters Siegmund’s sword, and Hunding slays his enemy with a spear thrust. Pausing only to dispatch Hunding, Wotan/Grimsley turns his wrath on his disobedient daughter, who has fled with Sieglinde and the pieces of the shattered sword:

“But Brünnhilde! Woe to that traitor!
Dearly shall she pay for her crime,
if my steed o’ertakes her in flight!”

Metropolitan Opera House March 30th, 2019 matinee

DIE WALKÜRE Richard Wagner
Brünnhilde..............Christine Goerke Siegmund................Stuart Skelton Sieglinde...............Eva-Maria Westbroek Wotan...................Greer Grimsley Fricka..................Jamie Barton Hunding.................Günther Groissböck Gerhilde................Kelly Cae Hogan Grimgerde...............Maya Lahyani Helmwige................Jessica Faselt Ortlinde................Wendy Bryn-Harmer Rossweisse..............Mary Phillips Schwertleite............Daryl Freedman Siegrune................Eve Gigliotti Waltraute...............Renée Tatum
Conductor...............Philippe Jordan

~ Oberon

March 30, 2019