Tag: Wagner

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
Yuja Wang @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Yuja Wang with the NY Philharmonic, photo by Caitlin Ochs

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Wednesday March 27th, 2019 – March 27th was supposed to be an extra-special evening at the New York Philharmonic: the orchestra had announced a one-night-only performance by legendary pianist Maurizio Pollini in honor of the 40th anniversary of his debut with the orchestra (also functioning as a Pension Fund Benefit Gala). Pollini’s appearances with the orchestra have been infrequent over the years, though he did play Chopin’s Piano Concerto (same one as his 1969 debut, Op. 11) in 2015. Alas, it was not to be: the orchestra announced that because of an illness, Mr. Pollini would not be able to appear. Though Mr. Pollini is truly irreplaceable, the Philharmonic did manage to secure a starry replacement: Yuja Wang, in town for appearances at Carnegie Hall, agreed to step in on short notice. The program remained the same: Schumann’s ever popular Piano Concerto in A minor was the centerpiece and Ms. Wang did not disappoint.

Though it is alleged that many pianists do not like performing Schumann’s sole piano concerto because they do not find it sufficiently technically demanding, sometimes finding the heart of music can be more demanding than any technical fireworks. Ms. Wang, dispatching every note with ease, also plumbed the depths of Schumann’s great work from the opening moments. The solo section at the beginning of the concerto was played quietly, wistfully, almost regretfully, before the orchestra surged forth. Maestro Jaap van Zweden, always a considerate accompanist, allowed Ms. Wang plenty of leeway to shape her solo moments. Ms. Wang summons a clean, beautiful and strong sound from the Steinway. The lovely slow movement was full of feeling and grace, and the exciting finale was playful and rhythmically alive.

Ms. Wang is beloved by NY audiences and they demanded encores: she is famous for generous amounts of encores, though tonight she may have been asked to limit it to only two (the audience wanted more.) A gorgeous transcription (by Liszt) for solo piano of Schubert’s heartbreaking Lied Gretchen am Spinnrade kept the audience holding its collective breath. And pianist Arcadi Volodos’ entertainingly jazzy/bluesy arrangement of Mozart’s famous Rondo Alla Turca from the Piano Sonata No. 11 brought down the house. (My companion, whose husband is an established jazz musician who regularly performs with artists like Norah Jones, said approvingly: “You go girl!”)

The Schumann concerto was sandwiched between two orchestral works. Johan Wagenaar’s forgotten Cyrano de Bergerac Overture, Op. 23 opened the program. This very melodic and entertaining 1905 composition, with its echoes of Wagner and Richard Strauss, deserves more attention than it gets. (Before Maestro Zweden reintroduced it to the Philharmonic’s rep in 2018 it was last performed by the orchestra in 1921 under Willem Mengelberg.)

The concert closed with a familiar rendition of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, which Wagner once called “the apotheosis of dance.” Maestro Zweden and NY Philharmonic musicians played, one could inelegantly say, the hell out of it. The moody opening quickly gave way to a series of rapturous melodies and dances. The famous Allegretto – many conductors go much too heavy, others speed through it thoughtlessly – was perfectly judged by Zweden. The rest of the symphony built to a thrilling, breathtaking and breathless finale.

~ Ben Weaver

March 30, 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
The ASO Presents Martinů’s JULIETTA

Above: the composer Bohuslav Martinů

~ Author: Oberon

Friday March 22nd, 2019 – Bohuslav Martinů’s opera JULIETTA in a concert presentation by The American Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall, conducted by Leon Botstein. Based on the French play Juliette, ou La clé des songes (Juliette, or The Key of Dreams) by Georges Neveux, Martinů’s opera explores a world where dreams and reality converge.

The plot of the opera was once described thus: “Michel Lepik, a bookbinder from Paris, is dreaming. Finding himself in a small seaside town, he sets out to look for a woman, Julietta, he’s absolutely convinced he met there three years before. The only problem is, everyone in the town has lost their memory. After a search, he finally finds her and tries to coax from her memories of their time together. Frustrated, he shoots her. But did it all really happen? Michel finds himself in the “Central Office for Dreams”, where the nightwatchman tries to persuade him to leave…because, if he stays past the allotted time, he must stay forever.”

While it was interesting to experience JULIETTA live, not all operas work well in a concert setting. The story is somewhat intriguing in its own right, but it seems to me that it cries out for an imaginative staging: it is not really a strong enough narrative to sustain interest over a three-hour span without some visual context. Beyond the leading roles of Julietta and Michel, the singers each portrayed multiple characters. A booklet with the full text was provided, but it is not easy to watch the stage, read the words, and take notes all at the same time. Also, throughout the performance, the sound of text booklets dropping to the floor was annoying.

Martinů’s orchestration is sometimes fascinating, but only in the final moments of Act II did the opera draw me in musically. Much of the first act is given over to banter – some of it spoken, in English – and at times it felt more like a play or a Broadway show than an opera; I must say, in truth, it became tiresome after a while. At 10:00 PM, there was an intermission, with another act still to come. Knowing how whimsical the MTA is at night, I decided it was safest to leave Carnegie Hall at the point. Sure enough, I had an ordeal getting home.

The orchestra played very well under Maestro Botstein’s detailed leadership; the score is strewn with brilliant little instrumental opportunities, which the players eagerly seized upon. Tenor Aaron Blake, slender and lively, impressed in the role of Michel. His music calls for plaintive lyricism but also power and passion. Mr Blake’s voice had the needed beauty of tone as well as the intensity required to give a truly impressive performance. In the title-role, the attractive soprano Sara Jakubiak sang with a warm spinto sound, making me wish the character had more extended passages of song. David Cangelosi, who has been so excellent as Wagner’s Mime and in other highlighted character roles at The Met, was simply superb as the Police Chief.

Multi-tasking in myriad roles were: the comely young mezzo Rebecca Jo Loeb, the lively and boisterously endearing mezzo Raehann Bryce-Davis, the always-wonderful contralto Tichina Vaughn, Met stalwart and strong-voiced baritone Philip Cokorinos, the fine basso Kevin Burdette – who I heard many times in his Juilliard days – and the inimitable Alfred Walker, a vocal scene-stealer and impressive presence, with ultra-clear diction. A small vocal ensemble from the Bard Festival Chorale (James Bagwell, director) sang from stage right.

I wish I could feel more enthusiastic about the piece itself; I also wish the ASO would start their performances at 7:00 PM, so as to end before the MTA makes getting home a chore.

~ Oberon

March 23, 2019
The ASO Presents Martinů’s JULIETTA

Above: the composer Bohuslav Martinů

~ Author: Oberon

Friday March 22nd, 2019 – Bohuslav Martinů’s opera JULIETTA in a concert presentation by The American Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall, conducted by Leon Botstein. Based on the French play Juliette, ou La clé des songes (Juliette, or The Key of Dreams) by Georges Neveux, Martinů’s opera explores a world where dreams and reality converge.

The plot of the opera was once described thus: “Michel Lepik, a bookbinder from Paris, is dreaming. Finding himself in a small seaside town, he sets out to look for a woman, Julietta, he’s absolutely convinced he met there three years before. The only problem is, everyone in the town has lost their memory. After a search, he finally finds her and tries to coax from her memories of their time together. Frustrated, he shoots her. But did it all really happen? Michel finds himself in the “Central Office for Dreams”, where the nightwatchman tries to persuade him to leave…because, if he stays past the allotted time, he must stay forever.”

While it was interesting to experience JULIETTA live, not all operas work well in a concert setting. The story is somewhat intriguing in its own right, but it seems to me that it cries out for an imaginative staging: it is not really a strong enough narrative to sustain interest over a three-hour span without some visual context. Beyond the leading roles of Julietta and Michel, the singers each portrayed multiple characters. A booklet with the full text was provided, but it is not easy to watch the stage, read the words, and take notes all at the same time. Also, throughout the performance, the sound of text booklets dropping to the floor was annoying.

Martinů’s orchestration is sometimes fascinating, but only in the final moments of Act II did the opera draw me in musically. Much of the first act is given over to banter – some of it spoken, in English – and at times it felt more like a play or a Broadway show than an opera; I must say, in truth, it became tiresome after a while. At 10:00 PM, there was an intermission, with another act still to come. Knowing how whimsical the MTA is at night, I decided it was safest to leave Carnegie Hall at the point. Sure enough, I had an ordeal getting home.

The orchestra played very well under Maestro Botstein’s detailed leadership; the score is strewn with brilliant little instrumental opportunities, which the players eagerly seized upon. Tenor Aaron Blake, slender and lively, impressed in the role of Michel. His music calls for plaintive lyricism but also power and passion. Mr Blake’s voice had the needed beauty of tone as well as the intensity required to give a truly impressive performance. In the title-role, the attractive soprano Sara Jakubiak sang with a warm spinto sound, making me wish the character had more extended passages of song. David Cangelosi, who has been so excellent as Wagner’s Mime and in other highlighted character roles at The Met, was simply superb as the Police Chief.

Multi-tasking in myriad roles were: the comely young mezzo Rebecca Jo Loeb, the lively and boisterously endearing mezzo Raehann Bryce-Davis, the always-wonderful contralto Tichina Vaughn, Met stalwart and strong-voiced baritone Philip Cokorinos, the fine basso Kevin Burdette – who I heard many times in his Juilliard days – and the inimitable Alfred Walker, a vocal scene-stealer and impressive presence, with ultra-clear diction. A small vocal ensemble from the Bard Festival Chorale (James Bagwell, director) sang from stage right.

I wish I could feel more enthusiastic about the piece itself; I also wish the ASO would start their performances at 7:00 PM, so as to end before the MTA makes getting home a chore.

~ Oberon

March 22, 2019
Matthew Polenzani @ Zankel Hall

Above: tenor Matthew Polenzani, photographed by Fay Fox

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday February 24th, 2019 – This afternoon’s program by tenor Matthew Polenzani at Zankel Hall had been a red-letter date on my calendar ever since Carnegie Hall announced their 2018-2019 season nearly a year ago. To say that the performance surpassed my highest expectations would be an understatement.

Over the years since Mr. Polenzani first came on the New York operatic scene in 1997, he has given me some of my fondest musical memories. Of particular joy was his portrayal of David in Wagner’s DIE MEISTERSINGER, which I saw four times. Matching his sunny – and very human – portrayal of the young apprentice to his sweetly ingratiating lyrical singing, Mr. Polenzani won the hearts of audiences each time. Those performances, musically sublime under Maestro Levine’s heartfelt leadership, were some of my happiest times at the opera.

Since then, Mr. Polenzani has had great success in Mozart, bel canto, and French opera at The Met where his credentials are approaching the 400-performance mark; earlier this month, he produced a sonic miracle in his aria in Tchaikovsky’s IOLANTA. And we will soon hear him as Mozart’s Tito and Verdi’s Duke of Mantua. More red-letter dates!

Today’s recital opened with a selection of lieder by Franz Schubert in which Mr. Polenzani and the renowned pianist Julius Drake formed a treasurable musical alliance. The two men walked out onto the Zankel Hall stage to a truly warm and long-lasting applause.

From the opening “Nachtstück” – an old man’s acceptance of impending death – Mr. Polenzani showed himself to be among the most appealing and compelling interpreters of German lieder now before the public. The words flow beautifully, and without fussiness, whilst the multi-hued sound and the incredible skill with which he runs the gamut of the piano/pianissimo spectrum, make each song truly an absorbing experience.

Two Spring-songs follow: “Im Frühling” (with Mr. Drake’s dramatic piano intervention, and the singer’s incredibly sustained softness towards the end), and the familiar “Frühlingsglaube“. “Der Einsame” (The Recluse…it could be my theme song!) is somewhat jaunty in tone, and has an optimistic outlook. Then the well-beloved “Ständchen” so persuasively phrased by the tenor and finely articulated by the pianist. The concluding “Im Abendrot“, with its lovely piano introduction, sings like a prayer.

Above: pianist Julius Drake

Beethoven’s An die ferne Geliebte, the composer’s only true song cycle, strings six poems by Alois Jeitteles together in an uninterrupted flow of song. Mssrs. Polenzani and Drake perfectly captured the songs’ many poetic references to the natural world, which the singer mentally relates to the finding and eventual loss of an idealized lover. Mr. Polanzani’s golden tone, the naturalness of his way with words, and the continuing enchantment of his softest notes kept us riveted; and Mr. Drake matched the singer, nuance for nuance, in their marvelous performance.

Johannes Brahms’ Zigeunerlieder, Op. 103, brought forth mezzo-soprano Jennifer Johnson Cano (above). This set of gypsy songs served the singer as a prologue to her role as the gypsy lass Zefka in Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Vanished. In a striking deep blue gown, Ms. Johnson Cano gave a vivid performance, in which Mr. Drake, at the Steinway, was a perfect accomplice.

Ms. Johnson Cano has the ideal voice, temperament, and personality for these songs; her gift for musical characterization is spot on, and is reflected in her stage manner: she plays the diva one moment and the loving lady the next. Singing with her warm, inviting mezzo timbre, Ms. Johnson Cano was particularly lovely in the cycle’s penultimate song, “Kommt der manchmal in den Sinn” where, at the words “Täusch mich nicht, verlass mich nicht…” the melody takes up an air of longing which the singer conveyed with expressive vocal colours. In the Brahms, as all evening, Julius Drake’s playing was so inviting.

Following the interval, Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Vanished, was given a mesmerizing performance by Mr. Polenzani, Ms. Johnson Cano, and three offstage singers: Kathleen O’Mara, soprano, and mezzo-sopranos Marie Engle and Megan Grey. At the piano, Julius Drake played this music – which might be described as a chamber opera – with a vast range of colour and brilliant rhythmic clarity.

This is the story of a young village boy who fell in love with a gypsy beauty and abandoned his safe and simple life to join her in her wanderings. Originally thought to have been drawn from the boy’s discarded diary, the story was eventually discovered to have been written by Josef Kalda, a accomplished author from Prague. In his 62nd year, Janáček himself fell under the spell of a much younger ‘gypsy’ woman; their relationship was revealed in a series of passionate letters, published in the 1980s.

Julius Drake’s phenomenal artistry was a key element in this fascinating work; one hardly needs an orchestra with this gentleman at the Steinway. His playing again superbly matched Mr. Polenzani’s singing: full of passion, poetry, intensity and natural beauty of expression.

The first several songs of The Diary of One Who Vanished are given over to the tenor: what a great pleasure to hear Mr. Polenzani and Mr. Drake here in a long stretch of music-making of such evocative qualities. Ms. Johnson Cano then appears, singing splendidly, with a bewitching, smouldering quality to her lower range. An offstage trio of voices – Mlles. O’Mara, Engle, and Grey – produced a lovely blend that sometimes brought to mind Wagner’s Rhinemaidens, or Strauss’s ARIADNE nymphs.

The finale is an extended sing for the tenor, again with Mr. Drake playing grandly. From lyrical outpourings, the music turns to a hymn of farewell sung by the boy about to take leave of his homeland. Here Mr. Polenzani unleashed hall-filling power; the audience could scarcely restrain themselves from applauding until the last echoes from the Steinway had faded.

At the end of the Janáček, the sold out hall was the scene of a tumultuous standing ovation. As the artists came forward to bow, the audience clearly wanted more music. But what sort of encore could follow such a performance? After a long delay, during which the applause redoubled, Mr. Polenzani and Mr. Drake came onstage again.

The tenor spoke of the difficulty of finding the right piece to sing after the drama of the Janáček. In the course of his travels, he said, the most-requested song was the universally beloved “O Danny Boy‘. Taking up the thrice-familiar melody, which has been sung by everyone from Ernestine Schumann-Heink to Johnny Cash, Mr. Polenzani gave the most ravishing performance of it I could ever hope to hear. The words – so simple and moving – came from the heart, and the colours of the voice were haunting. People around me were holding back tears as Mr. Polenzani took the final ascending phrase of the song to an exquisitely sustained final note than hung magically on the air.

~ Oberon

February 24, 2019
Great Performers: Russian National Orchestra

Above: conductor Kirill Karabits; photo by Konrad Kwik

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Wednesday February 20th, 2019 – The Russian National Orchestra’s highly anticipated visit to Lincoln Center’s Great Performers series with an all-Rachmaninoff concert drew a big and appreciative crowd, filled with many Russian-speakers who were buzzing about Mikhail Pletnev’s performance. Mr. Pletnev, star pianist and new conductor, was the founding conductor of the orchestra in the early 1990s after the collapse of the Soviet Union found many Soviet orchestras starved for money. Pletnev, pulling in financial backing from the West, formed the RNO and hired many leading musicians from the now former USSR’s other orchestras, creating something of an all-Star ensemble. It remains to this day Russia’s only privately-backed orchestra. Maestro Pletnev has since stepped back from full-time conducting duties and on Wednesday, February 20th appeared as soloist in Rachmaninoff’s 2nd Piano Concerto. Kirill Karabits, who has gained much attention as chief conductor of Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra, was on the podium.

Pletnev entered to a warm welcome from the audience, dressed all in black, looking very Russian dour. The playing was anything but, however. The brief solo introduction, a series of dramatic chords before the orchestra enters with its famous first theme, showcased Pletnev’s strong, muscled tone. The muscle, however, is not lacking in musicality and lyricism. The orchestra entered with a very slow Moderato. I wondered how the choice of tempo would be able to sustain the musical line without breaking.

At first both Pletnev and Karabits (via RNO) managed fine. Pletnev’s beautiful control of the piano’s dynamics, the legato of the playing, never ceding control to the orchestra, but also never showcasing himself for the sake of showboating, he seemed to be playing a concerto with piano, not just for it. This beautiful integration of sound, the marriage between the instruments, was lovely to behold. But as the movement began to build to its climax and the drama began to build, the slow tempo caught up to the proceedings. Pletnev suddenly felt muzzled, needing to take extended breaks between chords that are usually played together so that the orchestra could catch up. Pletnev seemed to desperately want to move forward and felt restrained; it created an uncomfortable pull and push between orchestra and conductor as the movement ended. The concerto’s famous Adagio sostenuto was lovely – piano and orchestra finally breathing as one, and the thrilling final Allegro showcased Pletnev’s effortlessly perfect finger work. The audience exploded with satisfaction and Pletnev gave a fascinating performance of Scarlatti’s Sonata in D minor, K.9, making it sound like ringing bells.

Above: pianist Mikhail Pletnev; photo by Alexey Molchanovsky

All ears were now on Kirill Karabits for Rachmaninoff’s ever-fresh Symphonic Dances, Op. 45, his final composition and one he considered his best. Written in 1941 while Rachmaninoff lived on Long Island, NY, the piece was dedicated to The Philadelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy (who gave the world premiere performance in 1941) and intended to be a ballet choreographed by Mikhail Fokine. Alas, Fokine died before the project could be brought to fruition. (It has been choreographed by several leading choreographers since, including Peter Martins for New York City Ballet.)

Maestro Karabits, handsome, trim and in a perfectly fitted suit, is a fun conductor to watch, his wide, dramatic and balletic gestures helping to propel the music. The opening dance, Non allegro, was very dramatic with its driving, sharp rhythms nicely articulated; the mournful saxophone solo – and the other wind instruments – shone in the mournful sections of the movement – before the dramatic, Stravinskian rhythms return – only to dissipate like Loge’s Fire Music from Wagner’s Die Walküre, the first time I’ve made the musical connection between those two sections. The boozy, mysterious waltz of the second movement (when the Symphonic Dances were still a ballet, this was called “Midnight”), a cousin to Ravel’s La valse, sashayed nicely with its weird combination of sexiness and creepiness. The dramatic final movement, with its extensive quotations of Rachmaninoff’s favorite leitmotif, the Dies irae, was a thrilling, thundering conclusion to a perfectly paced performance. This was perhaps the most exciting performance of the Symphonic Dances I’ve heard live, so kudos to the superb Russian National Orchestra and maestro Karabits.

The audience shared my enthusiasm and received 3 encores: a ravishing Rachmaninoff Vocalise, The Russian Sailors’ Dance from Glière’s The Red Poppy, and Lysenko’s Overture to Taras Bul’ba.

~ Ben Weaver

February 21, 2019
Irene Dalis as Fricka

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

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

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

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

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

~ Oberon

December 27, 2018
Forgotten Voices: Rudolf Ritter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rudolf Ritter – Allmächtǵer Vater ~ RIENZI

Rudolf Ritter – Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond ~ WALKURE

~ Oberon

December 25, 2018
van Zweden’s Bruckner 8th @ The NY Phil

Above: Jaap van Zweden, Musical Director of The New York Philharmonic

~ Author: Oberon

Friday September 28th, 2018 – This evening was our first opportunity to hear Jaap van Zweden lead The New York Philharmonic since he officially took up the position of Musical Director. My friend Ben Weaver and I splurged and bought tickets to this concert because Bruckner is always on our must-hear list. In 2014, I had my first live encounter with the composer’s 8th in this very hall, under Alan Gilbert’s baton. It was a revelation.

Tonight, Jaap van Zweden offered Conrad Tao’s Everything Must Go as a prelude to the Bruckner 8th. Does this massive symphony need a prelude? No. As with many ‘new’ works we’ve encountered over the past few seasons, Everything Must Go is expertly crafted but it sounds like so much else: by turns spare and noisy, with frequent percussive bangs and pops, this eleven-minute piece (it felt longer) passed by without providing any sense of the composer’s individual voice. Perhaps hearing more of Mr. Tao’s work – music not yoked to an existing masterpiece that employs the same orchestral forces – will lead us to discover who he is.

Since there was no pause between the Tao and the Bruckner, the audience’s response to Everything Must Go could not be gauged. I wonder if the young composer took a bow at the end; we had headed out as the applause commenced.

For the first two movements of the Bruckner, I was enthralled. The orchestra sounded truly superb, and Maestro van Zweden held sway with a perfect sense of the music’s architecture. It was a tremendous relief and balm to emerge from the day’s madness (the Kavanaugh hearings) into Bruckner’s vibrant world.

The Philharmonic musicians offered rich tone and marvelous colours, the brass sounding grand and the violins singing lyrically in their big theme. The music has a Wagnerian sense of the monumental, and a ceaseless melodic flow. Among the solo moments, Sherry Sylar’s oboe stood out. At one point there’s an almost direct quote from Tchaikovsky’s SLEEPING BEAUTY. During a respite/interlude, softer themes mingle before a splendid onslaught from the brass turns grandiose. The movement ends on a murmur.

The Scherzo has as its main and oft-repeated theme a churning 5-note figure that has worked its way into the soundtrack for GAME OF THRONES. As the movement progresses, the harp makes a lovely effect, as do the entwining voices of solo woodwinds. Textures modify seamlessly, sustaining our pleasure.

A deep sense of longing suffuses the opening of the Adagio, with its rising passion. Again the harp glimmers magically. The rise and fall of great waves of sound bring passages of almost unbearable beauty; there’s a spectacular build-up to music of searing passion which evaporates into soft halo of solo winds. As the music re-builds, a Tchaikovskian glory permeates. It seems, though, that Bruckner cannot quite decide how to end this epic movement.

Pulsing, march-like, and majestic, the Finale leads us onward. A big swaying rhythm from the timpani leads into a huge tsunami of sound. The work began to feel like a series of climaxes, though, and traces of brass fatigue started to crop up. The Maestro and the musicians were engulfed by gales of applause and cheers at the end.

I’m probably in a minority in feeling that Alan Gilbert’s 2014 rendering of the Bruckner 8th with the Philharmonic reached me on a deeper level, as well as being more exhilarating. “Well, it was faster!”, Ben Weaver would say. À chacun son goût…

~ Oberon

September 29, 2018