Wednesday, May 31, 2006
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.
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.
Monday, May 22, 2006
Goal-ee-hof
According to Playbill, this is the correct pronunciation for Golijov, emphasis on the first syllable. So you can quit worrying.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
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?]
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?]
Memorization
There are traditions about memorization, and they are completely illogical.
It is logical that members of an orchestra do not memorize. They simply could not get through the amount of music they are required to play with the tiny amount of rehearsal time they have if they were required to memorize. We also don't assume the audience is looking at them.
It is completely logical that performers in any staged play, such as opera and musicals, memorize. It would look very odd if Aida carried a score around the stage with her.
Everything else is tradition.
In recital singers and pianists (solo pianists, not accompanists) memorize. Violinists and clarinetists don't memorize.
Vocal soloists appearing in oratorios generally don't memorize.
The piano recital tradition started with Liszt who extemporized extensively, but was slavishly followed by people who never extemporize.
Toscanini, near-sighted and Italian, worried about la bella figura and memorized everything.
Would we expect Madonna to appear with sheet music? A classical musician venturing into pop must follow its traditions.
Why memorize?
If you are the focus of attention, the audience wants to see your eyes.
The reason that counts most: before a singer performs any piece, he must live with it, study it and absorb it into his soul. It's extremely unlikely that this has happened and he still can't remember how it goes.
It is logical that members of an orchestra do not memorize. They simply could not get through the amount of music they are required to play with the tiny amount of rehearsal time they have if they were required to memorize. We also don't assume the audience is looking at them.
It is completely logical that performers in any staged play, such as opera and musicals, memorize. It would look very odd if Aida carried a score around the stage with her.
Everything else is tradition.
In recital singers and pianists (solo pianists, not accompanists) memorize. Violinists and clarinetists don't memorize.
Vocal soloists appearing in oratorios generally don't memorize.
The piano recital tradition started with Liszt who extemporized extensively, but was slavishly followed by people who never extemporize.
Toscanini, near-sighted and Italian, worried about la bella figura and memorized everything.
Would we expect Madonna to appear with sheet music? A classical musician venturing into pop must follow its traditions.
Why memorize?
If you are the focus of attention, the audience wants to see your eyes.
The reason that counts most: before a singer performs any piece, he must live with it, study it and absorb it into his soul. It's extremely unlikely that this has happened and he still can't remember how it goes.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Cyrano de Bergerac
Cyrano de Bergerac is such a great play that it cannot help but make a pretty good opera. The libretto, in French, follows the play closely. Between 1921 when he composed La Leggenda di Sakùntala and 1936 for Cyrano Franco Alfano seems to have pulled himself together a bit. He used humming chorus only in the battle scene, for instance, where it serves a relevant dramatic function, instead of every time a little extra emotion is wanted. The scene where Cyrano serenades Roxane, sung by Sondra Radvanovsky, who thinks it is Christian and allows him into her bedroom while Cyrano stays below is actually very moving.
But he still has no idea of how to write an aria, and there are lots of opportunities. The sword fight poem in act I is an outstanding example of an opportunity missed. There is even a refrain where a catchy tune would go well. The words indicate a planned and eventually achieved execution of his opponent precisely at the end of the poem. This was completely flubbed both musically and dramatically. The whole idea is that Cyrano must stab his opponent precisely as he pronounces the last word of the poem--not pat him on the butt with his sword as happened here. I don't think you can stage Cyrano while pretending that people don't actually die in the sword fights.
This is exactly the same production and stars as the presentation at the Metropolitan Opera. I assume it was revived for Domingo.
And now I am going to do the unthinkable. Placido Domingo is one of those stars people travel the world to see. I sat next to one of his fans at the Royal Opera House on Thursday. She could not remember how many times she had seen him. He, the greatest singing actor possibly ever, is still beautiful in his soul, and occasional flashes of his genius still come to us. He executed his choreographed sword fights with acceptable grace.
Placido Domingo would never have become famous as a baritone--that part of his voice is just not that interesting--and yet he forces us to listen to page after page of music more suitable for a baritone because he cannot keep up the energy necessary to be a tenor in such a large role. Mr. Domingo, you have set the standard for all to follow, but perhaps it's time.
Friday, May 12, 2006
Conversation at the opera
At Franco Alfano's Cyrano de Bergerac at the Royal Opera, the woman on my left was talking to her friend, so I turned to the man on my right and said, "How do you like it?"
He responded, "I've already seen it 10 times. My wife is Roxane [Sondra Radvanovsky]." We talked about his wife. She has an unusual voice. "Some like it, some don't," he said. I commented on how easily she penetrated Alfano's large orchestra, that she didn't seem to be working hard at it. "She isn't," he said. "She has that edge to her voice that cuts through. Birgit Nilsson had it. It's more sought after in men, but valuable in women, too," I said.
I listened some more and decided she has a very distinctive tone which is actually an enormous advantage. "Who had the most distinctive voice, recognizable in only one or two notes? Maria Callas." He said his wife was sometimes compared to her. I said, "She doesn't sound like Maria Callas. She sounds like herself."
We talked about the opera. "It's growing on me," He said. "It sounds like movie music." Then I told him that Alfano had composed music for the movies where he was called Frank. I told my story about seeing La Leggenda di Sakuntala (1921) in Rome. "Alfano definitely improved since then (Cyrano is 1936)," I said.
We decided that in this audience I had seen the most operas by Alfano and he had seen the most performances of Cyrano.
We changed the subject to Domingo. I said the part seemed too low for him. "Every singer has their sweet notes, and this role only gets up into that part of his voice once in a while."
"He wanted it that way," he said. You mean the part has been lowered??!! He said, "My lips are sealed."
Only then did I warn that I have an opera blog. I wished his wife a lot of luck.
He responded, "I've already seen it 10 times. My wife is Roxane [Sondra Radvanovsky]." We talked about his wife. She has an unusual voice. "Some like it, some don't," he said. I commented on how easily she penetrated Alfano's large orchestra, that she didn't seem to be working hard at it. "She isn't," he said. "She has that edge to her voice that cuts through. Birgit Nilsson had it. It's more sought after in men, but valuable in women, too," I said.
I listened some more and decided she has a very distinctive tone which is actually an enormous advantage. "Who had the most distinctive voice, recognizable in only one or two notes? Maria Callas." He said his wife was sometimes compared to her. I said, "She doesn't sound like Maria Callas. She sounds like herself."
We talked about the opera. "It's growing on me," He said. "It sounds like movie music." Then I told him that Alfano had composed music for the movies where he was called Frank. I told my story about seeing La Leggenda di Sakuntala (1921) in Rome. "Alfano definitely improved since then (Cyrano is 1936)," I said.
We decided that in this audience I had seen the most operas by Alfano and he had seen the most performances of Cyrano.
We changed the subject to Domingo. I said the part seemed too low for him. "Every singer has their sweet notes, and this role only gets up into that part of his voice once in a while."
"He wanted it that way," he said. You mean the part has been lowered??!! He said, "My lips are sealed."
Only then did I warn that I have an opera blog. I wished his wife a lot of luck.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
