Tag: Opera

Matinee @ The Met: OTELLO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Metropolitan Opera House April 23rd, 2016 matinee

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

April 22, 2016
CAV Without PAG @ The Met

Above: composer Pietro Mascagni

Tuesday February 23rd, 2016 – Having looked at photos and video clips of the Met’s current productions of CAV and PAG, I had no desire to see a performance of the famed double bill in such settings. But I do love both operas, and so I opted for a score desk this evening. I knew in advance I would be leaving after CAV. The combination of Barbara Frittoli and Marco Berti in PAG didn’t appeal to me much, and though I would have liked to have heard George Gagnidze’s Prologo, that would have meant enduring a Gelb-intermission. So it was CAV and then a casa, a casa, amici.

The Met has never felt emptier than it did tonight; I’ve seen some very sparse audiences in the last two or three seasons, but this was really depressing. To be sure, it was a star-less night; and ticket prices are high. But even on middling nights, the ‘affordable’ upper tiers of the House used to be reasonably full. Tonight, only a handful of people were sitting in the Balcony box and Family Circle box sections which are normally fully occupied by hard-core opera lovers. At the end of CAV, there was just barely sufficient applause to get the curtain back up for the bows.

The reasons for the decline in attendance have been discussed at length on other sites; suffice it to say that The Met seems to be committing a slow suicide, and that no one seems to be doing an intervention.

Liudmyla Monastyrska sang a good Tosca earlier this season, and it was to hear her Santuzza that I chose to go tonight. Tosca suits her better, or so it seems to me. In Santuzza’s music we are accustomed to an earthier, more chest-resonant sound than Ms. Monastyrska brought to the music of the hapless outcast. But she sang tonight with a fine sense of dynamic variety, and did some really nice lyrical singing in passages like “No, no Turiddu…” in her duet with the tenor and – even more expressively – at “Turiddu mi tolsi…” in the duet with Alfio. Her top notes are bright and house-filling, but with hints of a widening vibrato. In the curse, Ms. Monastyrska was convincing though without the deadly declamatory venom of a Simionato or a Cossotto.

Brazilian tenor Ricardo Tamura, much maligned last season when he stepped in as Don Carlo for an ailing colleague while himself being under-the-weather, did a reasonable job as Turiddu tonight. He sounded throaty and a bit quavery in the offstage serenade, but once onstage he fared better. The singing is idiomatic, and he kept pace with the soprano in their big duet. Later, as he pleaded with Alfio to consider Santuzza’s fate if he, Turiddu, is killed, Tamura was very persuasive.

The most idiomatic and vocally satisfying performance tonight came from baritone Ambrogio Maestri; his Alfio has the right vocal swagger and his top notes were full, ripe, and thrilling. My score refers Lola’s little entrance song as “Lola’s Ditty”; Ginger Costa-Jackson did a good job with it, throwing in some nice chesty insinuations along the way as she chided Santuzza. It’s always good to have Jane Bunnell in a cast. I’ve always liked her, and I still do.

Fabio Luisi’s conducting was the evening’s biggest asset: his pacing was excellent, with an effective build-up to the Easter Hymn, and he refused to over-cook the famous Intermezzo, instead making it a touching musical statement. Throughout the evening, Luisi brought out little nuances in the score that hadn’t previously registered with me, and he maintained an alert balance between voices and orchestra, never swamping his singers.

Kudos to the Met chorus, who made the Easter Hymn the musical focus of the evening. This great chorale always moves me in its expression of the simple and direct faith of the common folk. Tonight it reminded me yet again of how the great religions have been hi-jacked and politicized in recent years. These days, my own mother’s piety and kind-heartedness would be thought too mushy and weak. I often wonder what she would think of the current situation.

Metropolitan Opera House February 23rd, 2016

CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA Pietro Mascagni

Santuzza................Liudmyla Monastryska Turiddu.................Ricardo Tamura Lola....................Ginger Costa-Jackson Alfio...................Ambrogio Maestri Mamma Lucia.............Jane Bunnell Peasant.................Andrea Coleman
Conductor...............Fabio Luisi

February 23, 2016
CMS Beethoven Cycle: The Danish!
Above: the Danish String Quartet, photo by Caroline Bitten

Sunday February 21st, 2016 – Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center‘s festival performances of the Beethoven string quartets drew to its close today with the Danish String Quartet playing the last music Beethoven ever wrote.

This was my first encounter with The Danish. Their story is probably unique among music-making ensembles, for three of them met as kids and fellow foot-ballers: so they literally grew up together. This may account for their wonderfully integrated sound. Along the way, a Norwegian cellist joined the family, fitting in perfectly.

This evening, as each voice was introduced to us at the start of the C-sharp minor quartet, I felt transfixed. I suddenly didn’t want to take notes, but rather to immerse myself in the music that was casting a spell over the wonderfully hushed, packed-to-the rafters Tully Hall.

The C-sharp minor quartet evidently seemed incomprehensible when it was first heard publicly in 1835, after the composer had already passed away. Certainly a first glance at the Playbill listing strikes one as very odd: seven movements? But Beethoven had been experimenting with structure over the years, and so she set this Opus 131 in seven sections, to be played without pause.

Richard Wagner, reflecting on the first of these seven movements, said that it “reveals the most melancholy sentiment expressed in music”. Today it perhaps seems more pensive than sorrowful. The second movement, marked Allegro molto vivace, is lively and extroverted. Following a brief ensemble recitative, we come to the slow movement, so expressive of yearning and tenderness.

In the Presto that follows – a whirlwind scherzo really – wit prevails in a lively, scurrying mode: here the Danes were at their most charming, and as this merry movement raced to its conclusion, the audience, thinking an end had been reached, were on the verge of unleashing a gust of applause. Then, with tongue-in-cheek irony, the players go on to a brooding Adagio and then a brilliant finale.

Upon finishing, the members of the Danish String Quartet were engulfed in a flood of applause and cheers. They were called out three times, a rather unprecedented happening.

During the intermission, I sat thinking about how – from my eleventh year until rather recently – so much of my musical focus has been on opera. Beethoven’s FIDELIO has never really attracted me – aside from Leonore’s glorious “Abscheulicher!” – and so the composer’s other works, iconic as they might be, have never really lured me. In fact, it’s only in the past three or four years – since I started attending Chamber Music Society and The New York Philharmonic regularly – that Beethoven’s music has begun to attract me. Better late than never!

Earlier in this CMS Beethoven cycle, the Miró Quartet’s playing of the “Razumovsky” quartets was a revelation. Of the symphonies, I’m most enamored of the 4th at present…something other music-lovers will find odd, I’m sure. But: enough rambling. Back to the matter at hand!

Of his final completed full work – the F-major quartet, Opus 135 – Beethoven reportedly stated that it was short because the commissioning fee was ‘short’; the sponsor would get what he paid for. And it was here, in the third movement marked Lento assai, cantante and tranquillo, that I found the Beethoven I’ve been searching for all these years – without knowing it. This music, which The Danish played so lovingly, really spoke to me. The entire piece, more traditional in both its structure and style than Opus 131, held the Tully audience in a state of rapt attentiveness: and the playing was marvelous throughout.

The concert concluded with the last music Beethoven ever completed: a ‘Finale: Allegro‘ which would serve as an alternate ending for the B-flat major quartet Opus 130. Here the players of The Danish were at full sail, clearly savouring both the music and the audience’s delight in listening to them.

The triple curtain call after Opus 131 was not a fluke, for the four blonde members of the Danish String Quartet reaped a full-house standing ovation at the close of this grand evening.

As so often happens nowadays, this great music – and the Quartet’s playing of it – turned gloomy thoughts of a world full of strife and woe into an optimistic notion that there’s still hope for humanity.

Meet The Danish String Quartet here.

The Artists:

Violin: Frederik Øland and Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen

Viola: Asbjørn Nørgaard

Cello: Fredrik Schøyen Sjölin

The Repertory:
February 21, 2016
TURANDOT at The Met – 4th of 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 30, 2016
Tatiana Troyanos as Venus

The inimitable Tatiana Troyanos as Venus in Wagner’s TANNHAUSER, photographed by Winnie Klotz.

Tatiana Troyanos – Geliebter komm! from TANNHAUSER – Met bcast 1992

January 24, 2016
Unseen: Not Just Another TOSCA @ The Met

Above: Maestro Joseph Colaneri

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Metropolitan Opera House November 28th, 2015 matinee

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

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

November 28, 2015
At Home With Wagner IX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Above: Wolfgang Sawallisch

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Above: Jean Cox and Ingrid Bjoner

November 27, 2015
TURANDOT at The Met – 2nd of 4

Above: Lise Lindstrom in the Metropolitan Opera’s production of TURANDOT

Monday October 26th, 2015 – It’s always fun to bring someone to the opera who hasn’t been in a while or who is unfamiliar with a particular work. When my choreographer/friend Lydia Johnson and I decided to spend an evening at The Met, I quickly settled on Franco Zeffirelli’s classic production of TURANDOT. In an age where less is supposedly more when it comes to opera stagings, this TURANDOT clings to the forbidden notion that grand opera should still be grand. Is this the sort of thing the public really wants to see? A virtually full house, including tons of young people, seemed to be saying “Yes!”

It was a good performance, but in the end it was the opera itself that was the star of the evening. Beyond the Chinoiserie which decorates the score, we have Puccini – the master-orchestrator – creating harmonies and textures that are so atmospheric. Lydia was fascinated by what she was hearing; I told her she must try FANCIULLA DEL WEST next.

The Met Orchestra were on optimum form – and the chorus, too. Both forces were capable of lusty vigor one moment and subtle delicacy the next. Conductor Paolo Carignani paced the opera superbly and brought forth much detail from the musicians; a tendency to cover the singers at times should have been resolved by this point in the run, but instead the conductor went blithely on, seemingly unable to comprehend that a forte for Marcelo Alvarez is not the same as a forte for Mario del Monaco.

For all that, the singing for the most part was pleasing and well-tuned to the drama of the work. David Crawford was an excellent Mandarin, ample-toned and investing the words with proper authority. Ronald Naldi as the Emperor Altoum projected successfully from his throne on Amsterdam Avenue, and Eduardo Valdes, Tony Stevenson, and – especially – Dwayne Croft made the most of the Ping-Pang-Pong scene.

James Morris’ aged timbre made a touching effect in the music of the blind king Timur. Leah Crocetto’s soprano sounded a bit fluttery at the start, but she moved the audience with her lovingly-shaped “Signore ascolta” and was excellent in her third act scene, winning the evening’s loudest cheers at curtain call. While Marcelo Alvarez is clearly over-parted by Calaf’s music, a more thoughtful conductor could have aided the tenor in turning his lyrical approach to the role into something perfectly viable. But that didn’t happen, and while there were many handsome moments in Alvarez’s singing, at the climax of “Nessun dorma” the conductor was of no help. There was no applause after this beloved aria, even though it was actually quite beautifully sung.

Lise Lindstrom is undoubtedly the most physically appealing Turandot I have ever beheld, and she also manages to make the character something more than a cardboard ice queen. Lindstrom’s lithe, attractive figure and her natural grace of movement were great assets in her portrayal; she looked particularly fetching in those scenes where she’s divested of the heavy robes and headpieces and seems like a young princess, almost vulnerable in her sky-blue gown and long black hair.

After a couple of warm-up phrases in which there was a trace of cloudiness in her upper-middle voice, Lindstrom’s singing took on its characteristic high-flying power as she pulled the treacherous high notes out of thin air with assured attacks. The narrative “In questa reggia” was presented as both a vocal and verbal auto-biography, her upper range zinging over the orchestra. Lindstrom’s Riddle Scene was vividly dramatic; having experienced defeat, her plea to Altoum was urgent and moving, and the she advanced downstage to deliver the two shining top-Cs over the massed chorus. Her acting as Calaf offered her a way out was detailed and thoughtful.

In Act III Lindstrom was totally assured vocally, with a persuasive melting at Calaf’s kiss and a nuanced rendering of “Del primo pianto”; in the high phrases following the prince’s revelation of his name, the soprano was very much at home. She ended the opera on a high B-flat attacked softly and then expanded to a glistening brilliance.

Lydia was very moved by the opera – and especially taken with the gestural language of Chiang Ching’s choreography – and we stayed to cheer the singers. She agreed with me, though, that dramatically the “happy ending” is incomprehensible. That Calaf should want to marry a woman who has sent dozens of men to their deaths, threatened to torture his own father, and caused the suicide of the faithful Liu just doesn’t make sense. But then, fairy tales seldom do.

Metropolitan Opera House October 26th, 2015
TURANDOT Giacomo Puccini Turandot................Lise Lindstrom Calàf...................Marcelo Álvarez Liù.....................Leah Crocetto Timur...................James Morris Ping....................Dwayne Croft Pang....................Tony Stevenson Pong....................Eduardo Valdes Emperor Altoum..........Ronald Naldi Mandarin................David Crawford Maid....................Anne Nonnemacher Maid....................Mary Hughes Prince of Persia........Sasha Semin Executioner.............Arthur Lazalde Three Masks: Elliott Reiland, Andrew Robinson, Amir Levy Temptresses: Jennifer Cadden, Oriada Islami Prifti, Rachel Schuette, Sarah Weber-Gallo
Conductor...............Paolo Carignani

October 27, 2015
TURANDOT at The Met – 2nd of 4

Above: Lise Lindstrom in the Metropolitan Opera’s production of TURANDOT

Monday October 26th, 2015 – It’s always fun to bring someone to the opera who hasn’t been in a while or who is unfamiliar with a particular work. When my choreographer/friend Lydia Johnson and I decided to spend an evening at The Met, I quickly settled on Franco Zeffirelli’s classic production of TURANDOT. In an age where less is supposedly more when it comes to opera stagings, this TURANDOT clings to the forbidden notion that grand opera should still be grand. Is this the sort of thing the public really wants to see? A virtually full house, including tons of young people, seemed to be saying “Yes!”

It was a good performance, but in the end it was the opera itself that was the star of the evening. Beyond the Chinoiserie which decorates the score, we have Puccini – the master-orchestrator – creating harmonies and textures that are so atmospheric. Lydia was fascinated by what she was hearing; I told her she must try FANCIULLA DEL WEST next.

The Met Orchestra were on optimum form – and the chorus, too. Both forces were capable of lusty vigor one moment and subtle delicacy the next. Conductor Paolo Carignani paced the opera superbly and brought forth much detail from the musicians; a tendency to cover the singers at times should have been resolved by this point in the run, but instead the conductor went blithely on, seemingly unable to comprehend that a forte for Marcelo Alvarez is not the same as a forte for Mario del Monaco.

For all that, the singing for the most part was pleasing and well-tuned to the drama of the work. David Crawford was an excellent Mandarin, ample-toned and investing the words with proper authority. Ronald Naldi as the Emperor Altoum projected successfully from his throne on Amsterdam Avenue, and Eduardo Valdes, Tony Stevenson, and – especially – Dwayne Croft made the most of the Ping-Pang-Pong scene.

James Morris’ aged timbre made a touching effect in the music of the blind king Timur. Leah Crocetto’s soprano sounded a bit fluttery at the start, but she moved the audience with her lovingly-shaped “Signore ascolta” and was excellent in her third act scene, winning the evening’s loudest cheers at curtain call. While Marcelo Alvarez is clearly over-parted by Calaf’s music, a more thoughtful conductor could have aided the tenor in turning his lyrical approach to the role into something perfectly viable. But that didn’t happen, and while there were many handsome moments in Alvarez’s singing, at the climax of “Nessun dorma” the conductor was of no help. There was no applause after this beloved aria, even though it was actually quite beautifully sung.

Lise Lindstrom is undoubtedly the most physically appealing Turandot I have ever beheld, and she also manages to make the character something more than a cardboard ice queen. Lindstrom’s lithe, attractive figure and her natural grace of movement were great assets in her portrayal; she looked particularly fetching in those scenes where she’s divested of the heavy robes and headpieces and seems like a young princess, almost vulnerable in her sky-blue gown and long black hair.

After a couple of warm-up phrases in which there was a trace of cloudiness in her upper-middle voice, Lindstrom’s singing took on its characteristic high-flying power as she pulled the treacherous high notes out of thin air with assured attacks. The narrative “In questa reggia” was presented as both a vocal and verbal auto-biography, her upper range zinging over the orchestra. Lindstrom’s Riddle Scene was vividly dramatic; having experienced defeat, her plea to Altoum was urgent and moving, and the she advanced downstage to deliver the two shining top-Cs over the massed chorus. Her acting as Calaf offered her a way out was detailed and thoughtful.

In Act III Lindstrom was totally assured vocally, with a persuasive melting at Calaf’s kiss and a nuanced rendering of “Del primo pianto”; in the high phrases following the prince’s revelation of his name, the soprano was very much at home. She ended the opera on a high B-flat attacked softly and then expanded to a glistening brilliance.

Lydia was very moved by the opera – and especially taken with the gestural language of Chiang Ching’s choreography – and we stayed to cheer the singers. She agreed with me, though, that dramatically the “happy ending” is incomprehensible. That Calaf should want to marry a woman who has sent dozens of men to their deaths, threatened to torture his own father, and caused the suicide of the faithful Liu just doesn’t make sense. But then, fairy tales seldom do.

Metropolitan Opera House October 26th, 2015
TURANDOT Giacomo Puccini Turandot................Lise Lindstrom Calàf...................Marcelo Álvarez Liù.....................Leah Crocetto Timur...................James Morris Ping....................Dwayne Croft Pang....................Tony Stevenson Pong....................Eduardo Valdes Emperor Altoum..........Ronald Naldi Mandarin................David Crawford Maid....................Anne Nonnemacher Maid....................Mary Hughes Prince of Persia........Sasha Semin Executioner.............Arthur Lazalde Three Masks: Elliott Reiland, Andrew Robinson, Amir Levy Temptresses: Jennifer Cadden, Oriada Islami Prifti, Rachel Schuette, Sarah Weber-Gallo
Conductor...............Paolo Carignani

October 26, 2015
TROVATORE @ The Met

Above: Dmitri Hvorostovsky

Tuesday September 29th, 2015 – Having cancelled most of his Summer engagements to commence treatment following the diagnosis of a brain tumor, the great Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky valiantly came to New York City to sing for us at The Metropolitan Opera. The necessity of returning to London to continue his treatment regimen meant that the baritone would only sing the first three of his scheduled Met performances as Count di Luna in IL TROVATORE, but to me it spoke highly of his dedication that he made the effort to come in for these high-profile performances which also feature the first Met Leonoras of Anna Netrebko.

At the season prima, on September 25th, the audience greeted Hvorostovsky’s entrance with a show-stopping ovation. The evening ended with a tumult of cheers and applause as he took his bows, and the members of The Met orchestra flung flowers up onto the stage, signalling their affectionate regard for the great singer.

And a great singer he is…truly. Tonight – the second of the three performances in which he’ll appear – Hvorostovsky was again given a prolonged round of applause at his entrance. To me, his voice sounded, amazingly, more beautiful than ever. “Il balen” was the vocal high-point of the evening: superbly phrased and deeply felt, sustaining the poetic musings of a character often described as “evil” but who is, essentially, a real romantic.

Hvorostovsky’s Count di Luna in fact manages to engage our empathy when he is cruelly beaten by Manrico’s men in the convent scene; Manrico slashes his rival’s face, and Hvorostovsky’s acting here was wonderfully committed. All evening, the baritone kept the character very much in the forefront of both the music and the drama, from with his snarling “Io fremo!” as he listens to Manrico serenading Leonora in Act I right to the end where – if my ears didn’t deceive me – Dima chimed in on Azucena’s final high B-flat with one of his own.

Dolora Zajick’s Azucena was thrilling from start to finish; the esteemed mezzo-soprano flung her fiery high notes and cavernous chest tones into the house with resplendent authority, her monologue “Condotta ell’era in ceppi” a veritable whirlwind of emotion as she displayed an uncanny dynamic range from haunting near-whispers to thunderous outbursts. This evening she didn’t take the high-C in “Perigliarti ancor languente” that had been one of her trademarks in this role, but instead swept onward like an force of nature. Her expressive singing of “Giorni poveri vivea…” was counter-balanced moments later with the sweeping anguish of “Deh! rallentate, o barbari!” which commenced on a lightning-bolt top note and plunged into vivid chest notes. In the opera’s final scene, Zajick displayed marvelous control in “Ai nostri monti” and in the trio where she seems to be singing in her sleep, only to awaken to the horror of Manrico’s execution. Her triumphant B-flat was a glorious cry of revenge achieved.

The Korean tenor Yonghoon Lee made a positive impression as Manrico, despite the fact that his voice is rather lighter than we are accustomed to in this music. In fact, Lee’s entire repertoire seems geared to roles which call for more vocal heft than he seems capable of: I wonder if he might not be better employed – at least for now – as Alfredo, the Duke of Mantua, and Tamino.

But there’s no going back, and Lee’s impassioned commitment to both the music and the character of Manrico had the audience well engaged. Lee’s slender figure and intense acting gave the rebel leader a romantic, swashbuckling appeal; and his mixture of unbridled vocal passion with moments of hushed piano reflectiveness kept the music aurally stimulating. Oddly, he sometimes reminded me of Franco Corelli – not in terms of the voice itself, but with the smouldering ardor of his delivery.

Lee sang a beautifully modulated, emotional “Ah si, ben mio” and – if I am not mistaken – took “Di quella pira” in C with an endlessly sustained final note which was ever-so-slightly below pitch. The audience took the tenor to heart, and Mr. Lee was very warmly applauded at the curtain calls.

Anna Netrebko seemed to be forcing her voice in some of Leonora’s music; in pushing for a larger, darker sound, some of the inherent lyric beauty of her tone is drained away. Her over-leaning into the chest register was a detriment: this isn’t Santuzza. There were many fine passages along the way, but also some errant pitch and some glare on the louder high notes (she skipped the D-flat at the end of the Act I trio). The audience, needless to say, adored her.

Stefan Kocan was a powerfully-sung and dramatically commanding Ferrando, with Maria Zifchak a big-voiced Inez and my friend Edward Albert in the brief role of A Gypsy. Marco Armiliato’s conducting was ‘good routine’ – and better than that after the interval – and the orchestra played very well.

A program note explained that Ms. Netrebko’s costumes had been specially created for her. Her breasts were amply on display in the opening scene’s burgundy outfit, then at the convent she was all buttoned up, a prim and proper young ‘widow’ in black. She went in for a gypsy look for the scene prior to her (thwarted) marriage, with a nifty head-wrap.

For all the passing “ifs, ands, or buts”, this was overall a pretty exciting night at the opera: there was involvement, passion, and some very impressive vocalism along the way.

Metropolitan Opera House September 29th, 2015

IL TROVATORE Giuseppe Verdi
Manrico.................Yonghoon Lee Leonora.................Anna Netrebko Count Di Luna...........Dmitri Hvorostovsky Azucena.................Dolora Zajick Ferrando................Stefan Kocán Ines....................Maria Zifchak Ruiz....................Raúl Melo Messenger...............David Lowe Gypsy...................Edward Albert
Conductor...............Marco Armiliato

September 29, 2015