Monday, November 30, 2009
Cool. I am in tune with the universe.
Despite the fact that the news was put out by Jonas' fan page, it has to mean the Sehnsucht album and not the Romantic Arias album. Or if it isn't a mistake then they awarded to an album from last year.
This is the most GQ of Jonas' pictures.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Everyone is right in thinking that Angela Gheorghiu and Jonas Kaufmann in Puccini's Madama Butterfly is the recording to give for Christmas. Angela is the most stylish verismo singer around, and Jonas is a wonderful partner for her.
I very much enjoyed Bellini's La Sonnambula as recorded by Cecilia Bartoli and Juan Diego Florez. Cecilia's bel canto is more fluid than anyone else's. By all means consider this.
But then how could you possibly skip this recording of Bellini's I Capuleti e i Montecchi with Elina Garanča and Anna Netrebko. There voices blend in a way that is magical. It's hard to choose.
I can't believe how badly I've fallen behind in reviewing opera videos. This year the complete opera CD's seem to overshadow most things.
This video with Natalie Dessay should satisfy almost anyone. It may be the funniest opera video ever made.
And the La Boheme film with Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazon is finally out on DVD. If you don't want to give it, you should find a way to see it.
Joyce DiDonato makes my list this year for the best Handel album. Forget Rolando's.
Jonas and Cecilia tied for the Diapason d'Or artist of the year. Sehnsucht is all German repertoire with an emphasis on Wagner.
Cecilia Bartoli continues her interest in the Baroque with Sacrificium. She attempts to rival the gods, and may just possibly succeed.
Or follow my lead and forget about opera. Try a little Bach with Murray Perahia.
Friday, November 27, 2009
I get email. While I was at jury duty, I got a phone call--that was a first.
I just go to things because I want to and think I might enjoy them. Lately I have been remarkably successful at selecting events that I will enjoy. I don't write about everything I go to. I am very susceptible to stress and don't want to add any to my life. I am just trying to have fun.
However, my funds are limited, so if you have FREE TICKETS, by all means let me know.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Classical music star Cecilia Bartoli hates the dictates of beauty
Essen. She is so popular that she even guests on "Wetten, dass…" Now classical music star Cecilia Bartoli with her CD "Sacrificium" appreciates the suffering of the castrati and, naturally, their angelic singing. On 13 November she appeared in Cologne. Jürgen Overkott spoke with the merry Diva.
JO: You speak Spanish, French, English and German apart from your native language Italian still…
Cecilia Bartoli: … German however only in the restaurant. It is enough in order to order a menu.
JO: Her modesty honours her. And nevertheless I ask the question: Do you collect languages?
Cecilia Bartoli: No, no. I collect no language, I collect music. That is a language, which is everywhere understood. Everyone can hear music, and everyone can make music. Music is a language which goes directly in the heart.
JO: And it is the only language, which does not need words…
Cecilia Bartoli: … naturally, but music is suitable and also outstanding to strengthen the effect of poetry.
JO: You love to rediscover lost music pieces. Are you the hunter of lost treasures?
Cecilia Bartoli: Yes, actually I love to rescue musical treasures from archives. There still lie many other jewels, worth digging up. I believe that they still have a lot to say to us. But I love also the popular repertoire beyond that. You know, I admire Mozart. And if one loves Mozart, one must be occupied also with Haydn. Because Haydn affected Mozart strongly. Actually one would have to always sing pieces of both.
JO: Now you let the art of the castrati revive again. In what relationship did the singing stars of the 18th century stand to Mozart?
Cecilia Bartoli: There is a direct relationship. Mozart wrote much music for castrati, many pieces for mezzosoprano actually were for castrati. The high men’s voices were in the 18th Century very much in vogue, and even Rossini in the 19th Century still wrote for castrati.
JO: How did you discover the charm of the castrato music for yourself?
Cecilia Bartoli: That has something to do with Naples. There was there, just like in Bologna, a school for castrati, and their teacher was Porpora, a teacher and a composer. And the music of Porpora for stars such as Farinelli impressed me very much - it is music full of feeling. Porporas arias are very dramatic, very pathetic, they shimmer in many colors.
JO: Farinelli was the superstar of the castrati. He could even ensure that the depressive king of Spain felt better. Is music medicine?
Cecilia Bartoli: Oh yes! It’s good that you mention that. Farinelli could not heal the king, but nevertheless alleviated his condition. He had to sing the same six songs after midnight until in the morning around four, always. But: Farinelli became with time a trusted friend of the king and finally prime minister.
JO: But Farinelli paid a high price: He had always to sing the same pieces.
Cecilia Bartoli: (laughs) Yes, correct. That is about the same as if Elton John would have to play "Candle in The wind" for the Queen each night. Well, but Farinelli has done it nevertheless for the king…
JO: Now castrati are men, but no longer male. Doesn’t eroticism go? [Geht da nicht die Erotik flöten?]
Cecilia Bartoli: No, no. Directly with Farinelli there is an abundance of fine psychological shades, of gentle melancholy. The castrati were not men, were not women. Perhaps they were in a position to be able to mediate between the two sexes.
JO: For their heavenly voices the castrati opened the gate to hell. Is it permitted for maintenance in Top quality to pay every price?
Cecilia Bartoli: Ha! Good question! The castrati have, like the title of my album suggests, actually made a sacrifice for their art. In former times annually 4000 boys were castrated. Poor families saw therein a possibility to escape from their fate. And only two or three castrati actually made a career. But is it nowadays really different? Many artists cut away at their bodies. Think only of Michael Jackson! That was nevertheless indescribable: Finally was not his nose more genuine. We can be terrorized by the dictates of beauty.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
On the video with Rolando Villazon she is a serious woman who sits at home in her large house and reads. At Santa Fe she was a school teacher. In Sacramento she is clearly a fast girl who is completely in character when she decides to marry Sergeant Belcore. I think it's more emotionally satisfying when she is a woman of substance.
The production places us in the Napa Valley in the 40s. It doesn't really matter where it takes place.
The cast is good. Katrina Thurman's Adina is a light-voiced coloratura. Dinyar Vania is excellent as the countrified hero Nemorino with interesting Italian phrasing.
We clearly cannot blame Verdi for the Italian opera Oom-pah-pah style he is so often criticized for. He obviously got it from Donizetti. The most prominent player in the orchestra was the bass drum and cymbals. I don't remember noticing this so much before.
If you like your comedy painted with broad strokes, you will love this.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
"Hello, Barbara, I'm DA," she said. Conversation. She recognized my laugh from 50 years ago. Some things never change. I said, "I sit and watch TV all day, and then I fly to somewhere to see opera." She said she did this, too, and her heart throb was Marcello Alvarez. Pronounced Marsello. She goes out to eat with him.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
For my ears Bernarda Fink is obviously not German, though her diction is excellent. This is hard to explain. The phrasing is beautiful but not exactly German. I'm told she is from Argentina.
I love Schubert, and find these easy to listen to. Two criticisms of the album:
- If I turn the sound down to the point where it doesn't hurt my ears, I can hardly hear the piano. This is an engineering issue.
- Engineer also must insert a bit of dead space at the end of each song so you can tell when one stops and the next one begins. This problem is worse because of the first item.
I apologize for not buying something more current, but I really love Schubert.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
This is sort of weird advice. It's sort of recital as theater rather than recital as singing. I liked very much the musical interpretations of the songs, and I definitely don't think--deeply as I love her--that everyone has to turn into Cecilia every time they perform, as one reviewer declared.
It is, however, important to communicate, both to yourself and to the audience....
here is the start of the song....
here is a transition to the second section....
now I am at the emotional climax...
and this, ahem, THIS is the end.
I told you it would be weird. Way too many songs got over without anyone being able to tell. Give us a signal. Relax something.
This reminds me of the conducting class exercise where we were to get everyone to come in together without actually moving. This turned out to be easy. One changes the expression on ones face.
Tell us every second of the way what we are expected to do without actually doing anything. Tell us that the song has finished, but we are not to clap. Tell us exactly when to start clapping. Remember, you are in charge.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
I don't think I've ever done this before, but here is the entire program for the Joyce DiDonato recital in San Francisco Monday night.
I. Arie Antiche
“Danza, danza, fanciulla gentile” Francesco Durante
“Se tu m’ami” Giovanni Pergolesi
“Amarilli mia bella” Giulio Caccini
“Mio ben” Luigi Rossi
“Nel cor piu non mi sento” Giovanni Paisiello
“Or ch’io non sequo piu” Raffaello Rontani (?-1622)
II. “Willow Song” from Otello by Gioacchino Rossini
III. I Canti Della Sera by Francesco Santoliquido (1883-1971)
“Alba di luna sul bosco”
[Everything before the intermission was in Italian. I have put in dates for anyone I am not familiar with. I always think it is important to put things in a context. Santoliquido was completely unfamiliar, intimate and sexy. Perhaps she will record them. She promised Italian love songs some time in the future.]
IV. Canciones Classica by Frenando Obradors (1897-1945)
“La mi sola, Laureola”
“Corazon, porque pasais?”
“The jealous lad”
“Dreaming of love, dear mother”
“From the finest hair”
“Tiny the Bride” “Tiny the bride, tiny the groom, tiny the parlor, and the bedroom, which is why I want a tiny bed with a mosquito net.”
[I had a teacher long ago who was especially fond of Obradors, but this may be the first time I have heard these songs. They're all love songs, I believe. They aren't in my iTunes.]
V. “La Maja Dolorosa No.1. No. 2, No. 3” by Enrique Granados
[This group was dedicated to the memory of James Schwabacher who died this past year.]
VI. Xavier Montsalvatge (1912-2002)
“Cuba dentro de un piano”
“Punto de Habanera”
“Tanti affetti” Rossini
[Everyone stood up and shouted after this one. She sang a very ornamented version.]
“Over the rainbow” by Harold Arlen
She likes to talk. It all began here for her and she was excited to be in San Francisco again. She spoke of memories of Jimmy Schwabacher, and made it clear that for her there has truly been an over the rainbow.
Her singing was warm and emotional. She made a personal connection with each piece. She gets it. Viva.
I will have to begin paying more attention to her.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
My friend J, who is 88, and I were thinking this was the first time we had ever been to a concert devoted entirely to Henry Purcell (1659-1695). Coming into the Mondavi Center to hear Philharmonia Baroque last night, the usher asked, “What’s his first name?” I said Henry, and another usher said, “That’s spelled ‘H-E-N-R-I.'” Oh heavens no. He’s English, not French.
How can this great composer be so little known? I have always been especially fond of the middle Baroque, that most neglected of all style periods. But thinking about it now, perhaps it is only the great Purcell I am especially fond of.
Nicholas McGegan, the conductor of Philharmonia Baroque, talked before the concert and spoke about the French influence on Purcell – King Charles II was raised in France – and the roughness of English harmony compared to the French. I think it is this roughness that I love, the way the lines bounce against one another, the liveliness of the rhythms, the astounding beauty of the English text setting, never heard before or since.
Purcell is my man. Let’s have an All-Purcell-All-The-Time festival. We would probably be criticized for performing inferior repertoire. [Sorry. This is currently a sore point for me.]
There were questions after the talk, and I wanted to ask, “Why aren’t you famous?” This would have been unfortunate because McGegan probably already regards himself as famous.
I asked about Elizabeth Blumenstock, the concertmistress of the Philharmonia Baroque and was told she was in Italy this month. She has a life that is larger than her orchestra. Philharmonia Baroque is an early instruments orchestra, but the orchestra listing was missing from the program.
The first half of the program was devoted to an instrumental piece called Chacony, a couple of anthems and a fascinating Suite from Abdelazer, or The Moor’s Revenge. These are isolated movements to be played between scenes of a play. In the center is the text:
Lucinda is bewitching fair.
All o’er engaging is her Air.
In ev’ry Song Lucinda’s Fam’d.
She is the Queen of Love proclaimed.
To all she does a Flame impart
Expiring Victims feel her Dart.
Strephon for her has Love expressed,
Philander sighs too with the rest;
Wracked with Despair each one complains,
Unmov’d, untouch’t She all disdains.
This small aria was performed sweetly by Celine Ricci--all with the wonderful Purcellian expressive ornamentation.
The second half of the program was devoted to the most perfect piece of music ever composed, the small opera Dido and Aeneas.
As is the case with all music from the Baroque, these modern performers ornamented beyond the written score, especially in the repeats. My old-fashioned ears enjoyed it very much.
There is simply too much to write. The excellent chorus transformed into a group of hags for the witches choruses. Cynthia Sieden transformed magically from Belinda to first witch and back again. Celine Ricci sang both the second woman with her amazing aria “Oft she visits this lone mountain,” taken at a very fast clip, and the second witch. “She” in this aria refers to the goddess Diana. Jill Grove was an excellent, evil sorceress. William Berger was the most intense Aeneas I’ve ever heard.
This performance was semi-staged. A throne was provided for Dido, and people moved about, good guys stage right, bad guys stage left.
Susan Graham brought us Dido. I found her voice to be just right for the role, enough weight for the deep sadness of the character, enough lightness for the ornaments. The entire performance was a joy--lively, dramatic and fun.
[My protestations that I did not wish to be famous may be in vain. McGegan kept looking at me and smiling. He does seem to smile all the time, so maybe I imagined this. Or maybe he was just happy we stopped coughing.]
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
From the House of the Dead by Leoš Janáček was virtually completed in 1928 when the composer died. It turns out I don't have to go to New York. I think this film from 2007 from Aix-en-Provence is the same production. Yes.
The film reunites Patrice Chereau and Pierre Boulez who did the centennial Ring together in 1976. At the Met it is Salonen conducting. New for the Met are Peter Mattei as Shishkov and Willard White as Gorianchikov. Many of the rest of the cast are the same as the DVD. It uses the edition prepared by Sir Charles Mackerras, the father of all modern Janáček, and John Tyrrell.
Enough journalism. No one tops Dostoevsky, the source of the plot, for unrelenting grimness. I used to read a lot of Russian literature when I was much younger, and loved it. Now this opera is simply too dark, though there is a brief turn toward the light at the end.
We are in a men's prison, and the opera consists almost entirely of prisoners telling their grim stories of violence.
The music is wonderful, just the right balance of dissonance and consonance to please. But there are no sopranos to thrill us and charm us as there are in Jenufa.
It definitely violates the three baritones rule. [Never go to an opera where three of the characters are baritones.] In fact they all seem like baritones, even when they're not.
The captured eagle is freed and flies away. Thank God.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
"A question that has followed Turandot around for decades concerns the proper pronunciation of the title character’s name. The name Turandot apparently is derived from the Persian “Turandokht,” meaning “daughter of Turan,” Turan being a region of what was then Persia, later called Turkestan. The name Turandokht and the fact that Gozzi’s play was entitled Turandotte imply that the final t should be pronounced. However, according to Rosa Raisa, who created the title role, Puccini pronounced it without the final t." The stuff you read.
There's lots of information on the internet about the ending of Turandot.
From the Metropolitan Opera is this:
"Alfano was given a year to write Turandot’s final act, as Toscanini wanted the piece to premiere on the anniversary of Puccini’s death. Alfano hastily completed what he could, using Puccini’s drafts and incorporating his own style when the drafts were unclear or when no music existed at all. Alfano heard the complete orchestrations of the first two acts just twenty days before his own draft was due; there simply was no time for him to completely familiarize himself with Puccini’s orchestral intentions for the work.
"Alfano’s final act was famously rejected by Toscanini, who cut large parts of his work. At the 1926 premiere of Turandot at La Scala, Toscanini conducted the opera until the moment of Liù’s death, then set down his baton and announced, “Here is where the opera ends, because at this point the Maestro died.” Although Toscanini and others did later conduct most of Alfano’s ending, it was not until 1982 that the piece was performed in its entirety. The complete version has since become quite popular."
Apparently we normally hear the shortened version composed by Alfano and severely cut by Toscanini.
I am researching all this because I had such a different take on the opera from the performance in the simulcast than I have ever had before, and because I realize the part that was different for me was the parts composed by Alfano. Was I hearing something different, or was the performance just that different?
I asked the Met and received this answer: "The short of it is that Alfano was forced to edit and cut his original ending by Puccini's publisher, Tito Ricordi, and conductor Arturo Toscanini. This second version became the standard and is the one performed at the Met and virtually everywhere else."
What this means is that my reaction was to the performance.
Everything is on YouTube, including a recording of Alfano's original ending.
The lengthy footnote on the film includes this interesting paragraph:
Puccini died without completing Turandot. He left behind 36 pages of sketches on 23 sheets for the end of Turandot, together with instructions that Riccardo Zandonai should finish the opera. Puccini's son Tonio objected, and eventually Franco Alfano was chosen to flesh out the sketches. Alfano was chosen because his opera "La leggenda di Sakùntala" resembled Turandot in its setting and heavy orchestration.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
I have seen the Zeffirelli production of Puccini's Turandot from the Metropolitan Opera before: once with Placido Domingo on television and once in the house with Andrea Gruber. It's very beautiful and worth seeing again. I admit to being a little freaked out by the men creeping around the stage, but the rest is gorgeous.
Marina Poplavskaya was a wonderful Liu, but I've seen equally wonderful singers in this role. Marcello Giordani was a powerful Calaf, but I have witnessed other wonderful tenors in this role.
But this is the first time the ice princess has come to life for me. She is terrified of this stranger as she has never been before. When Liu kills herself in order not to reveal the name, Turandot feels this as she has not felt anything before. She feels herself fall in love and the loss of her power with genuine terror. We hear the words "my first tears" as we have never heard them before. This is a deeply emotional Turandot who sees her life crumbling before her eyes. We feel her fall in love. And we see him see her fall. We know as he does that it is safe for him to tell his name, that with this word his triumph is complete.
The Turandot of Maria Guleghina is acted like nothing I have ever seen before. Brava. And the singing was also good.
In the theater often the sound came and went, though not during "Nessun dorma" as I had bet someone, and occasionally the picture went with it. Boo. Pull yourselves together, gang.
The HD surprise, who will host, was really a surprise: Patricia Racette. She has moved up a rung, hopefully due to her fabulous Trittico in San Francisco. She was excellent.
She interviewed Charles Anthony who sang the Emperor. He's been at the Met for over 50 years.
She interviewed members of the brass section because of their recently released CD.
She interviewed Marcello and Maria together and brought out the wonderful rapport between them, part of the explanation for the beauty of this performance.
Let's hope we see her again in this role.
Thursday, November 05, 2009
No offense to Bartoli, but we older folks had our own pseudo castrato in the magnificent Marilyn Horne. She performed Vivaldi's Orlando Furioso in San Francisco, too, where this film is from. I was there.
She balanced her voice in her throat with such precision that she could do virtually anything with it.
Jonas Kaufmann won the GQ classical music man of the year 2009 award on November 3. Picture was stolen from Parsifal's who probably stole it from somewhere else. Apologies. Classical music isn't even a category in GQ Brittain, as near as I can tell.
The men of the GQ awards all have a certain look to them which fits Jonas very well. Thin. Wild hair. Wait a minute! They gave an award to Mickey Rourke.
Monday, November 02, 2009
There was actual blood on the floor for the Salome at the San Francisco Opera. All we needed was for Salome to kneel down and take a lick and we were in a Warhol Dracula movie. Very creepy.
This woman, Nadja Michael, has already two videos you can buy of her performance as Salome. She was sick on Friday, but Gockley persuaded her to perform for the matinee on Sunday. I got the impression that she was struggling with her voice a little, but the over all effect was intense and stunning. If you want visible nudity, you will have to stick with the divinely fearless Maria Ewing, but for serious creepiness Nadja is your girl.
She is my second pushed up mezzo in a week, and this seems to be a workable trend. Remember Violetta Urmana was the first. Pushed up mezzo is far better that pushed down lyric soprano.
The production took a slightly different perspective from others. We are in a space away from Herod's banquet with Jokanaan's prison chamber at the rear instead of its usual position below the stage. The stage was filled with a large circle of light. The movement of the drama depends entirely on the singing actors to bring it too life. This is in sharp contrast to the busy, cluttered art deco stage used at the Met recently, which for me didn't work at all.
Big voices dominated: Nadja Michael has reserves of power. The Jokanaan of Greer Grimsley was a stunning blast of force, with just the right pomposity in the tone to create the feeling of a Biblical prophet. Irina Mishura as Herodias has a huge voice.
Kim Begley as Herod was just a senile old man infatuated with his step-daughter. Excellent.
This is a character drama, and it is the interplay of all these obsessed characters that makes it work as theater. Salome is obsessed with Jokanaan. Jokanaan is obsessed with God and the new messiah. Herod is obsessed with Salome. Herodias is obsessed with getting rid of Jokanaan. Naraboth is obsessed with Salome. All must make their impression to get the greatest effect.
It was all quite astounding and made my heart palpitate. Maestro Nicola Luisotti was our conductor.
[See Kinderkuchen History 1890-1910]
Rolando Villazon is definitely pushing his voice down to get a thick tone in his recent Handel album. This is sad because it could have been just his thing.
Paul Groves was doing this at Santa Fe, and I thought maybe a couple of the apprentice tenors, too. This is to be on the alert for. If the Santa Fe apprentice program is messing with the technique of their charges, then best to steer clear.
I never hear even a hint of that at Merola.
Being a pushed down tenor worked for Mario del Monaco, but think how much better pushed up baritone worked for Placido Domingo.