Josephine Baker centenary

While we are celebrating, yesterday, June 3, was the centenary of the birth of Josephine Baker, my erstwhile namesake.

Happy Birthday

On the occasion of Cecilia Bartoli's 40th birthday I want to wish her all the best. Bring us something exciting in 2007.

Der Freischütz

For my retirement I was given a $100 gift certificate at Borders. A drop in the bucket, but a welcome one.

I have purchased a DVD of Der Freischütz by Carl Maria von Weber from the Zurich Opera. I have only seen this opera once before, in the 1970’s at the Wienerstaatsoper. The two productions could not be more different.

In Vienna the orchestra pit was overflowing with extra horns who made a fine blast of sound. The sets were in a romanticized naturalistic style. This Zurich production with Nickolas Harnoncourt shows a bare stage and black costumes, and in the pit are only four natural horns, which produce a relatively delicate sound. These are the same natural horns that blooped their way through Giulio Cesare, and now they are blooping their way through Freischütz. Pardon me if I don't acquire a taste for this.

Freischütz is still in the Singspiel tradition with spoken dialog. The opera has a Faust plot. Max is a candidate for the post of forester, but doubts his ability to win the shooting contest and the hand of his beloved Agathe on his own, and sells his soul to the devil in exchange for bullets that never miss.

It is one of the underperformed gems of opera with great arias and an exciting plot. They seem to be working very hard here to make it boring. I suppose this approach is cheaper, but it’s not much fun.

Every now and then people lie down on the floor for no reason, usually in groups, all pointing in the same direction. Does it beat boredom to have something to puzzle over?

The plot of Freischütz is difficult to make clear, especially the ending. We're dealing with bullets which cannot be seen. Max aims at the white dove and hits Agathe who seems to fall dead. When she does not die, it is never clear exactly why. It is also not clear why Kaspar dies instead. It is an unsatisfying deus ex machina.

Everything from Zurich seems to include the Hungarian bass László Polgár, a tall man with a somber expression and a beautifully lyrical bass voice. He's quite gloomily attractive. His name does not appear on the notes anywhere, but I remember him from other opera dvds from Zurich, most notably as Leporello in Don Giovanni. Matti Salminen as Kaspar is wonderful, the scariest man on the opera stage.
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London

I have watched As Time Goes By for years. Now when I watch it, I think "those people live in London." When they get out of taxis, I see myself getting out of taxis, too. I made a point of buying custard tarts while I was there, because in the show, Lionel has always the exit line, " I think I'll have a custard tart." They're delicious.

Inner Bach

I read in the newspaper about a film of deaf people singing Bach. They rehearsed like a real choir and were accompanied by real musicians.

I don't know if I would want to see this film. The sound was described as ultra modern, as clear a condemnation of modernism as I've ever heard.

The idea raises questions for contemplation. Is this the inner Bach? The zen of Bach? For the deaf singers it was a wonderful event. Is it still Bach if you can't actually hear it? I say yes.

Goal-ee-hof

According to Playbill, this is the correct pronunciation for Golijov, emphasis on the first syllable. So you can quit worrying.

Baltimore comes to Frederick

The Baltimore Symphony Orchestra came to Frederick last night. Marin Alsop did not come. Conducting honors fell to Roberto Minczuk who currently conducts the Calgary Philharmonic Orchestra and Orquestra Sinfonica Brasiliera in Rio de Janeiro, an interesting pair of assignments.

He conducted Samuel Barber’s Adagio for Strings without a score and without a baton. He conducted Haydn’s Cello Concerto in D Major with a score, but still without a baton. He conducted Beethoven’s Symphony No. 4 without a score but WITH a baton. Hmm. Is he showing off? Is he easily bored? We’re curious. The entire concert went well, so I can’t actually complain.

The most interesting piece was the cello concerto, primarily due to the playing of Ilya Finkelshteyn, the principal cello of the BSO. The solo part is full of double stops and high pitches, all passionately played. The audience stood up for this, and Mr. Finkelshteyn gave the orchestra an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Name calling, part II

So what are they talking about?

Maria Callas had a big voice with lots of squillo and a burning ambition. From deep in her soul she wanted to be a star. She worked very hard to develop a proper bel canto technique and keep the flexibility in her voice. She was both naturally expressive and completely obsessive. She cared about expression and developed her interpretations with great care. Her voice, her character, her technique, her expression, her ambition all combined to make a very great artist. That's why it was so shocking when she suddenly abandoned opera for mere celebrity.

So every dark voice with a bit of coloratura is "the next Maria Callas."

The route to greatness, the route followed by Maria herself, lies in beating ones own path, in making music that is completely ones own, in defying comparison. No artist succeeds by imitation.

When I look around at the singers today, only Angela and Cecilia seem to burn for it. Cecilia's gifts don't lie in Callas's spinto repertoire. I haven't always liked what she was doing, but she more than anyone working today is blazing her own trail, creating performances of true originality. Her creativity is astounding.

Anna does not burn for it. She would never have backed down on her bid for Austrian citizenship if she did.

When they say someone is the "next Maria Callas," they're just wishing. They want to sit in a hall and feel their spine tingling, their soul shaking as it once did with Callas. We want to be thrilled and not merely entertained.

Name calling

I promise never to say that someone is the "next Maria Callas." Thank you.

Hail and Farewell

I will always look back on this trip to London as a blessed time. The business parts went well. Everyone wished they had my job which consists primarily of knowing all about Bechtel. When you've been building data exchanges for 25 years, it is pretty easy to do and basically low stress.

That left me free to enjoy myself. I was going to retire in January, so I pretended I already was retired. Amazingly, no one complained. I laughed and told jokes the way I always do, but this time they laughed, too. I think I love the English. And the Scots. And perhaps also the South Africans. In fact, I loved them all, and they loved me.

I saw everything and did everything, even after I found that I have arthritis. I stopped going to musicals because I simply don't want to be blasted by distortion for two or three hours. As a lover of singing, I want to hear the voices, not the blaring backup bands.

I found that when I went places alone, I could seek out someone to talk to. They have all disappeared into the void. Christine who attended Solomon on a free ticket because she had trashed the soprano and they wanted her to give her a second chance. The man who lived in Kensington near my hotel. The ancient lady eating bouillabaisse at the fish bar in Harrod's who thought it hadn't enough garlic. Sondra's husband.

Wo war ich schon einmal, und s'war so selig?  [When was I ever this happy?]