Les Violons du Roy and La Chapelle de Quebec - Bernard Labadie, conductor. March 25, 2012.

Issac Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, Dress Circle Center Right (Seat DD10, $47.)

Program
St. John Passion, BWV 245 (1724; rev. 1725, 1732, 1749) by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750).

Artists
Ian Bostridge, Tenor; Neal Davies, Bass-Baritone; Karina Gauvin, Soprano; Damien Guillon, Countertenor; Nicholas Phan, Tenor; Hanno Muller-Nrachmann, Bass-Baritone.

Between Chung Shu and I we somehow got six tickets to this concert.  Despite all the telephone calls he made, only four of us made it to New York City on this Sunday afternoon (Chung Shu, Agnes, Anne & I).  We went after church, good thing traffic was a breeze, so we made it there in good time.  Chung Shu actually managed to sell the two extra tickets, for about half their original price.  A bit surprising as there were quite a few empty seats; in fact Chung Shu and Agnes moved to our section after Part I.

Bach wrote this piece for use on a Good Friday.  Even though we had heard a couple of Passions before, I was still somewhat surprised that it covers only the last week or so of Jesus’s life (it should, if one had thought about it.)  We heard Bach’s other Passion, based on Matthew.  The Program Notes describes this as a darker and more fiery brother, to me it was at least very different.  Not being a Bach scholar, I certainly do not recognize his entire range of style; still, this piece sounds quite different from what I thought Bach would sound like.  The most notable difference would be the stress on harmony relative to the use of counterpoint; perhaps it is there, but I didn’t get it.

The structure of the composition is quite similar to St. Matthew’s.  You have the Evangelist (John in this case), Jesus, and other characters, who had recitatives exclusively.  The choruses would sing the part of the crowd.  Chorales would be hymns that tend to be on the reverent side (this is the Passion, after all.)  Most of the text was taken from the Gospel of John and Lutheran hymns.  Bach also quoted from poetry and other gospels to round out the libretto.  Evidently scholars don’t know if Bach used a librettist for this work; he did tinker with several revisions.

The Passion consists of two parts, with 40 numbers.  Some of those numbers are in turn divided into multiple parts (up to seven).  All this add up to a rather long program at about 2:15 hours.  It didn’t feel that long though, even though I did have trouble every now and then to keep my concentration.  The Program Notes also describes the technique used by Bach in some of these numbers to generate the desired effects.  I always think there is a bit of oversell in these observations, unless the composer specifically describes what informs a particular passage.

I am typing this sitting inside a plane (en-route to Hong Kong), thus cannot refer to anything except the Playbill I brought along.  I heard the St. Matthew Passion performed by the New York Philharmonic where they had a huge orchestra (two, in fact), and a large choral section.  For today’s concert there were fewer than 30 instruments, and 31 singers.  Included in the instruments are a viola da gamba and an archluth (which looks somewhat like a lute.)  The string instruments are “modern” but the bows are period.  The most prominent effect is a subtler sound, which in my opinion doesn’t work very well in Carnegie Hall.  In my view the performance suffered from being from a small ensemble.  A purist would argue orchestras were small in Bach’s days, but I suspect the church isn’t as cavernous as the Stern auditorium.

Ian Bostridge as the Evangelist had the most critical role.  He has an amazing range and did uniformly well.  The other soloists were also good, but their roles are relatively limited compared to the Evangelist.  Perhaps it was how the choir members were arranged, perhaps it was the small number of singers, their performance was just so-so.

If you ask someone what hymn they remember from St. Matthew Passion, many would tell you “O Sacred Head Now Wounded.”  I didn’t know most of the tunes from St. John, but one of them (“Within my heart’s foundation …”) is actually quite familiar.

On the way back, we were talking about the possibility of trying the chorales ourselves.  I don’t know if I can find 20 or so people interested in doing this, but I certainly intend to buy a copy of the score to study the piece in a bit more detail.

The New York Times writeup on the concert is here.

Recital – Vadim Repin, Violin; Itamar Golan, Piano. March 17, 2012.

Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra (Seat L112, $60.)

Program

Sonata for Violin and Piano by Leos Janacek (1854-1928).

Sonata for Violin and Piano (1927) by Maurice Ravel (1875-1937).

Sonata No. 2 in G major for Violin and Piano, Op. 13 by Edvard Grieg (1843-1907).

Poeme, Op. 25 by Ernest Chausson (1855-1899).

Tzigane by Ravel.

For me Repin will forever be remembered as the violinist who broke a string during a performance with the New York Philharmonic: it was the Tchaikovsky concerto, if memory serves.  He is of course also a brilliant violinist, although I haven’t had the chance to hear him very often.  When I found out half price tickets were available for this concert, I decided to get them, even though we would have attended a concert the day before.

Ellie would come up from Jersey City to meet us for dinner, and Anne was in Flushing earlier that afternoon, so we all got to Ed’s Chowder House via different means – although I did meet up with Anne before we parked the car.  Ellie was delayed, so dinner was a bit rushed; still good.  We tried to get her to join us for the concert, but she decided not to.

This was the first time I can remember ever going to Alice Tully Hall.  It has a seating capacity of 1086, not nearly as small as I would expect.  Having been renovated just a couple of years ago, the seats have a bit more leg room than the Met Opera House or Avery Fisher, and are quite comfortable.  The abundant presence of wood and the spikes on the back of the stage would make one think the hall should have great acoustics.  It turns out the sound was just so-so, even for our seats which are quite close to the performers.

The Program Notes are individual write-ups of the pieces from different sources, so there is not a consistency to how the descriptions were approached.  The way the program was set up, one could say the first half was more chamber music, with the pianist playing an equally important role as the violinist, and the second half was more a showcase of the violinist’s virtuosity, even though the pianist would have his work cut out for him.

Janacek wrote the bulk of the sonata in 1913 and 1914, but the first world war intervened, and by the time he completed it in 1921, the politics of the region had changed drastically: the Russian Army had marched into Hungary, and its incursion into Moravia was imminent.  The Sonata contains Moravian folksongs, and a high piano tremolo passage represents the Russian Army’s entering Hungary.  On first listening, it is difficult to read into what Janacek was trying to say.  Technically, the piece was difficult, but not extraordinarily so.

A couple of factoids about this sonata.  It was Janacek’s third violin sonata, but the first two are lost.  Also, one of the movement’s tranquil passage (a lyrical Ballada) was written as a separate piece before the war.  The Program Notes doesn’t tell us what the movements are; Wikipedia describes the four movements as Con moto, Balada, Allegretto, and Adagio.  I heard only three distinct sections, perhaps the Balada and Allegretto movements are done without pause?

Like the Janacek sonata, Ravel’s work is also about 20 minutes long.  The Program Notes describes the three movements as Allegretto, Bluesy, and Allegro.  The first movement starts simple enough, but places more and more demand on the performers.  The second movement is indeed Gershwinian blue, with a lot of sliding to reach a note typical of jazz music.  I thought there was a bit of intonation problem, though.  What is amazing is that there is a lot of what I would call violent pizzicato in the music.  I was wondering if there would be another string breaking incident, and a bit worried as there was no replacement violin in sight.  The third movement is technically challenging, with lots of fast 16^th note runs, double octaves, flying staccatos, and other virtuoso idioms.  I think many in the audience held their breath for much longer than usual, I certainly did.

The applause was enthusiastic, to put it mildly, and well-deserved.  What I didn’t expect was there was sporadic clapping after each movement.  It got to be more of a problem as the concert progressed.  Later in the program several people clapped during a break in Grieg's first movement, causing quite a bit of “sheeeshing” from the audience.  Different performers react differently to this, these two guys just kept playing.  I think Lincoln Center should start putting in these notices asking the audience to applaud only after the completion of an entire work; the New York crowd is not that sophisticated, after all.

Grieg’s most popular violin concerto probably is his first.  Even though I have the second on my iPod, it is not familiar to me.  It was composed in 1867 and dedicated to Johan Svendsen.  The movements are Lento doloroso – Allegro vivace, Allegretto tranquillo, and Allegro animato.  The second movement is classical in its ABA format, and thus quite easy to follow.  For the uninitiated, the other two movements should simply be enjoyed as virtuoso pieces.  (It is during the first movements that some people applauded.)

Chausson’s Poeme, written in 1889, is a standard piece in the violinist repertoire.  Originally written for violin and orchestra, Chausson himself adapted it for violin and piano.  Musically it is simple, starting soft, getting loud, and ending soft again.  Technically it is quite a different matter, and Repin put in a most enjoyable performance.

Most violinist would consider Tzigane (which means Gypsy Music) unplayable.  It starts simple enough, but soon calls for trills in double stops (I won’t even know how to begin to practice this.)  The tempo eventually becomes frantic, with the violin doing rapid harmonics.  Against what the music would sound like in my ear (if I had the music), I would say Repin put in a rather sloppy performance.  But no one really cared, it was just amazing to hear someone attempt such fireworks on the violin, and occasionally pulling it off.

It turns out I have a recording of Tzigane by Itzhak Perlman.  I am sure sound track engineering of music played in a recording studio had a lot to do with it: it sounded much cleaner.

Repin played two popular violin pieces as encores.  Frustratingly I don’t remember their titles.  Enjoyable, and probably a good way to let the audience down from its earlier frenzy.  We therefore didn’t get to leave until about 9:45 pm, making this a rather lengthy concert.  The drive home was very straightforward, with very little traffic, especially for a Saturday night.

It is interesting that during chamber music performances one always hears blemishes: a missed note here, a slightly off-pitch sound there.  This was the same with the last violin/piano recital I went to with Zukerman and Bronfman playing.  Also, the program then (Mozart, Beethoven and Brahms) was one where one enjoys the music more than the virtuosity of tonight’s concert.  Both Repin and Zukerman play Guarneri violins, sometimes you wish Repin used a Stradivarius tonight so we could get a more brilliant sound.

A few remarks about the pianist Golan.  Lithuania-born, raised in Israel since he was one, he now teaches at the Paris Conservatory after a stint at the Manhattan School of Music.  He was at least a head shorter than Repin, prompting the thinking that the two had the two instruments mixed up.  But he kept pace with Repin’s theatrics with his own flair.  Many times he would fight with the page-turner (who sometimes had trouble.)  The way he takes a bow is like someone about to get into a duel: never take your eye off the opponent.  I am sure he holds his own as a piano soloist, but alas for this concert it is all Repin.

I am glad we decided to go.  And we sure did get our money’s worth.

Today we found the review in the New York Times.  The reviewer is brutal, saying the Tzigane ended in a train wreck.  He didn't say what the encore pieces were either.

New York Philharmonic – David Zinman, conductor; Gil Shaham, violin. March 16, 2012.

Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra 1 (Seat T107, $70.)

Program

Symphony No. 1 in C major, Op. 21 (1799-1800) by Beethoven (1770-1827).

Concerto funebre for Solo Violin and String Orchestra (1939, rev. 1959) by Hartmann (1905-63).

Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major, Op. 55, Sinfonia eroica (1802-04) by Beethoven.

Today’s concert started at 11 am, one of the several matinees NY Philharmonic will have this season.  For us, it means we had to leave a bit after 9 am.  Traffic was surprising light, we even had time to enjoy a cup of Starbuck’s before we went to the concert hall.

This is the third and last of the “Modern Beethoven” series conducted by Zinman.  While the first and third symphonies were written within a few years of each other, the difference between them was quite substantial.

The first symphony, as described by the Program Notes, is quite Haydnesuque and Mozartian.  That is especially true of the first three movements (Adagio molto – Allegro con brio; Andante cantabile con moto; and Menuetto: Allegro molto e vivace.)  Actually, the first movement could easily confuse the uneducated listener (that would be me) as being written by Mozart, light, lots of repeated notes; only give-away would be Beethoven reused the themes more than Mozart would.  However, the last movement (Finale: Adagio – Allegro molto e vivace) was definitely Beethoven.  So, instead of describing the symphony as showing Beethoven characteristics in embryonic form – as the Program Notes does – I would say in one composition Beethoven announced himself to be the radical composer that he was.  The winds play an important part in this symphony, and the audience acknowledged the great job they did when they were asked to take a bow.

The third symphony is one of Beethoven’s more popular ones, and I remember both playing it at Cornell and studying it in my theory class.  What I didn’t realize was this was the longest symphony ever written at that time.  (Beethoven’s longest has to be his ninth at about 70 minutes.)  The four movements of the symphony are: Allegro con brio; Marcia funebre: Adagio assai; Scherzo: Allegro vivace; Finale: Allegro molto – Poco andante – Presto.  The third movement had so much energy to it that a few in the audience actually applauded.  I was surprised that the fourth movement didn’t sound as familiar to me as I expected.

I was just remarking last week that the New Jersey audience was slapped in the face with a note reminding them not to applaud in between movements …

Many people know that this symphony was written with Napoleon in mind, but Beethoven got very upset when Napoleon crowned himself emperor and instead dedicated this to his patron Prince Lobkowitz.  What I didn’t know was Ludwig, Luigi, and Louis are different ways of saying the same name.  And the dedications were written in Italian – perhaps not so surprising considering they use Italian in the musical notation.

So, in the last three weeks I heard six of Beethoven’s symphonies.  I wondered at the outset if I would get an overload.  I am glad to report that I did not.  I think I am ready for the three missing.  Indeed we just got tickets for the Ninth (NJSO playing in Newark Sacred Heart Church in May.)  On the other hand, I must say I didn’t find these performances particularly inspiring; not bad, but not inspiring.  Which brings me to the series description of “Modern Beethoven.”  The New York Times reviewer said (something like) “of course no one would say the same old Beethoven.”  Actually there is nothing wrong with calling it that, or “Rediscovering Beethoven” to make it sound better.

The size of the orchestra was different for the two symphonies.  A much reduced set of string players was used for the first symphony.  I am sure one reason is that the woodwinds need to come out more; but are there others?

Beethoven composed his first eight Symphonies in the span of about 12 years, and he started to go deaf with the fourth.  I wish they had included the ninth so one could appreciate how the composer grew as a symphonic composer.

We heard the Violin Concerto by Karl Amadeus Hartmann last April with Arabella Steinbacher and the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, and I came away not particularly impressed.  I appreciated the composition a bit more on hearing it a second time.  What I said about the piece technically is still true, although Shaham played with a much broader dynamic range than Steinbacher did.  His Strad didn’t sound as good as I thought it should, though.  Hartmann described his work as Chorale – Adagio – Allegro – Chorale, with the last movement “the lyrical melody of the second chorale at the end has the character of a slow progress.”  Whatever that means, it shouldn't mean it would be over in two minutes, should it?

After the concert, we grabbed a light lunch at Ollie’s and made the discounted 4-hour parking window for the garage.  Coming home wasn’t a problem either.

The New York Times Review finds more connection between Beethoven and Hartmann than I could.

Metropolitan Opera – Mussorgsky’s Khovanshchina. March 13, 2012.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Balcony (Seat A117, $92.50).

Story.  The setting of the story is Russia in the late 1600s.  Interweaved into the story are three main characters: Ivan Khovansky and the streltskys, Dosifei and the Old Believers, and Murfa. After supporting the installation of Ivan and Peter as joint rulers, Ivan Khovansky and his son Andrei lead the streltskys to rebel against them.  Towards the end of the story, Ivan Khovansky is killed inside his residence, but the streltskys are pardoned by Tsar Peter.  During the same time period, the Old Believers are being persecuted, and the Imperial Court has decreed they be killed.  Instead of surrendering, their leader Dosifei leads them to a mass suicide by setting fire to themselves.  Murfa, an Old Believer, has some mythical powers that allow her to predict the future, including that of Prince Vasily Golitsyn, lover of the Tsars sister Sophia.  Golitsyn tries to drown Murfa after she gives him a horrific reading, but to no avail.  Murfa is in love with Andrei Khovansky and eventually gets him to commit suicide with her and the other Old Believers.

Conductor – Kirill Petrenko. A Public Scribe – John Easterlin; Shaklovity, a boyar – George Gagnidze; Prince Ivan Khovansky, leader of the streltsy, an Old Believer – Anatoli Kotscherga; Emma, a young girl from the German quarter – Wendy Bryn Harmer; Prince Andrei Khovansky, son of Ivan Khovansky – Misha Didyk; Marfa, Andrei’s fiancée, an Old Believer – Olga Borodina; Dosifei, spiritual leader of the Old Believers – Ildar Abdrazakov; Prince Vasily Golitsyn, a statesman; Susanna – Maria Gavrilova.

The Program Front Page also tells us that the Opera’s libretto was written by the composer, the orchestration by Dmitri Shostakovich, and the final scene by Igor Stravinsky.  Mussorgsky died at age 42 partly due to his alcoholism, and he left behind an incomplete manuscript that was for the most part unorchestrated.

The story is based on the real-life character Prince Ivan Khovansky, with the term “Khovanschchina” meaning Khovansky Intrigue, referring to his plan to stage a coup.  The historical accounts are complicated enough, and on top of that was Mussorgsky’s effort to weave different stories together, resulting in a rather unwieldy plot.  If I had just copied the synopsis found in the Program Notes over onto this blog, I don’t think things would have been that much clearer.  In any case, Anne’s take of the Program Notes is that Russia itself is the protagonist, and the opera shows how history claims its victims who are powerless to stop its inexorable march.  And, as far as I could tell, there is no answer to the question of “who won?”  To echo what the Program Notes says about the chorus, instead of the “one voice” we get from the chorus in Nabucco (signifying the struggle of the Hebrew people,) here we have different groups with different objectives: the strelskys, the Muscovites, the Old Believers all seemed to want different things.  A storyline that complicated may work in the hands of a master like Tolstoy, but I am not sure Mussorgsky could ever pull it off.  And, in the case of Tolstoy’s War and Peace, Prokofiev in turning the epic into an opera had to simplify it drastically.

The overture is quite unexpected, sounding tonal and pleasant.  But my hope that this would be a performance with memorable tunes was soon quashed: the music quickly degenerated into a fragmented, dissonant sound used by Mussorgsky to represent the chaos and darkness of the story.  Sprinkled throughout the opera were the many attempts that tried to go “positive,” these were quickly overwhelmed by the dark mood permeating throughout.  One exception, of course, was the Persian dance in Scene 4, but Ivan Khovansky was shot at the end of the scene.  All this should work very well in theory, and it evidently did work for many people, if what I overheard what they said during the intermissions was any indication.  For Anne and I, alas, that simply meant we had to fight to stay awake.  You get some idea of what is going on, but there are many gaps that leave one scratching one’s head.  For instance, I just realized that Ivan Khovansky was killed on order of the tsars’ sister Sophia, with whom he was aligned for a while.  During the performance, I had no idea who did it; and I still don't understand why.

The conductor and most soloists are from Russia, Georgia, and Ukraine.  So I assume the Russian was perfect, of course the only word I can make out is “Nyet.”  We had heard Ildar Abdrazakov several times, including the roles of Henry VIII in Anna Bolena and Attila.  And we had seen Petrenko conduct a couple of times before also.  In any case, the singing was uniformly good.  I especially enjoyed Olga Borodina as Marfa.  I am still a bit puzzled by how sometimes the sound would come across really loud at certain locations on the stage.  For tonight it was on the right close to a balcony-like structure.

The set used was designed in 1985.  While it still works, as it should, it is interesting that the Met didn’t try to refresh it for this run.  Perhaps they ran out of money after spending a great fortune on the Ring Cycle?  One would expect to see the Onion Domes of the Krelim if the Scene is the Red Square, and one would be disappointed.  What we got was a close up view of the columns.  The immolation scene leaves a lot to the audience’s imagination.  There is this pile of wood in the middle, surrounded by a hundred or so Old Believers holding candles in their hands.  A bright light and smoke would tell the audience that the pile is on fire.  Basically the same concept as the scene in Gotterdammerung, but not to as good an effect.  They might just as well learn something from the new Ring production.

The concert started at 7 pm and didn’t end until about 11:25 pm.  With two intermissions and several scene changes I would guess the opera itself was a bit over three hours.  I suspect unless this is turned into something on the scale of the Ring, lengthening the opera by an hour or so won’t help with clarifying what is happening, given how discombobulated the story is at this stage.

There are some moments that someone fully engaged with this opera will find poignant, but I don’t really get them.  I would have enjoyed the opera a lot more if it is not trying to say so many things at the same time.

The New York Times reviewer loved the opera, calling it “one of the best things the Met has done this season.”  Sounds very much like the people sitting around me, including the lady sitting next to me who seemed clueless most of the time (from the questions she was asking her companion) but ended up applauding very enthusiastically.  And now that I have read the review, another person was just quoting what she read!  I do like the reviewer’s description of the Persian dance: “bland new choreography.”

The reviewer Zachary Wolfe also says Gotterdammerung left him "cold," but he didn't write the review of that opera for the Times, Tommasini did.  I guess it is not surprising that different people get different takes from the same performance.

New York Philharmonic – David Zinman, conductor; Alisa Weilerstein, cello. March 9, 2012.

NJPAC, Newark, NJ, Tier 1 (Seat D5, $60.)

Program

Symphony No. 8 in F major, Op. 93 (1811-12) by Beethoven (1770-1827).

Concerto for Violoncello and Orchestra, Op. 22 (1945) by Barber (1910-81).

Symphony No. 4 in B-flat major, Op. 60 (1806) by Beethoven.

This concert is the second in the “Modern Beethoven” series conducted by David Zinman.  As I wrote in the last blog, we couldn’t attend the ones scheduled for Avery Fisher Hall, so we bought tickets to this NJPAC performance instead.

Both the 8^th and the 4^th belong to the “not as frequently played” Beethoven symphonies.  Not that it is any indication of their popularity, but I do not have either of them in my iPod; which I intend to remedy in the near future.  Neither am I that familiar with either of them, except for the first movement of the 8^th.

Interestingly, what the Program Notes say about the even-numbered symphonies (that they are considered reflective and conservative) is truer of these two symphonies than the one (No. 2) we heard last week.  They both have a Mozartian (or Hadynesque, since Beethoven is a student of Haydn) feel to them.  The Eighth is very compact at about 25 minutes, and instead of a slow second movement and a scherzo-minuet third movement we have an “Allegretto scherzando” as the second movement and a “Tempo di Menuetto” as the third.  It may seem Beethoven did away with the traditional format and expanded the Scherzo-Minuet into two movements.  So much for playing a musicologist, but this is not mentioned in the Program Notes.  The Notes does say, however, that Berlioz (as a music critic) was quite baffled by how different keys popped up during the last movement.  For the record, the first and fourth movements are Allegro vivace e con brio and Allegro vivace – notice there is a “con brio.”

This symphony was premiered together with the sixth and seventh, which are tremendously popular today.  I can imagine how an audience would compare the three when they are played in rapid succession like that.  Also, these symphonies no doubt broke new grounds for their time, so I wonder if the listeners got a bit of Beethoven-fatique as well.

Unfortunately I don’t have a lot to say about the fourth as a composition either.  It is a bit longer at an advertised 32 minutes, and consists of the movements Adagio – Allegro vivace, Adagio, Allegro vivace, Allegro ma non troppo; thus notable for a lack of “con brio.”  Yet there are enough lively passages in it.  The unfortunate thing about this symphony is that it is sandwiched between the brilliant and heroic third and fifth symphonies, which for many are more representative of the Beethoven of great contrasts.

The symphony was commissioned by Count Franz von Oppersdorf, and most people believe Beethoven already had the work completed when he received the commission.  On the nyphil.org website we read that the premiere was played using someone else’s orchestra, a faux pax that would not be forgiven by the Count, and as a consequence Beethoven never got another commission from him.

Beethoven was already beginning to go deaf when this work was composed.  He would go on to write another five symphonies (although the fifth had already been started at this time.)

A couple of interesting observations about the orchestra.  For both Beethoven symphonies the size was much reduced.  (E.g., 12 first violins, 8 violas.)  Both call for two horns, yet we saw a third one in the section.  And the timpanist was constantly tuning the drums.

We saw Alisa Weilerstein about a year ago (April 2011).  I can still hum the four-note motif from the Shostakovich concerto, a tribute to how memorable the performance was (or at least the choice of music.)  Meanwhile she has piled on a few more accomplishments, including winning the MacArthur prize.

Despite the glowing write-up in the Program Notes, I didn’t find this performance as captivating as the last one.  Not that there was anything wrong with tonight’s performance.  At a minimum, the music calls for great virtuosity from the musician, and Weilerstein made it sound exquisite and effortless.  Much of the piece seemed to be played on the highest registers of the cello, and you would have the cellist reaching down to the bottom of the fingerboard, and the sound was rich and not the least bit strained at all.  The balance between the cello and the orchestra was also good, at no time was the soloist overwhelmed by the orchestra.

Barber wrote this as a result of a commission by Serge Koussevitzky of the Boston Symphony.  The conductor had Raya Garbousova in mind as the soloist.  Barber would first sit through a few hours of the soloist’s playing highlights from her repertoire to get an idea of her qualities, and he would get a lot of feedback from her during the course of the composition.

Before we went to the concert I read up the write-ups on New York Philharmonic’s website, including the PDF files that would be included in the Avery Fisher Hall program.  The Program Notes for NJPAC is different, necessarily so because they are putting on only one of the three concerts.  Nonetheless, what we read in the NJPAC notes is quite different from the Avery Fisher Hall notes, and a bit disjoint at that.  Also, I wonder what got into the Annotator Keller that he would use big words and terms like adumbration, perspicacious, and Apollonian & Dionysian in the Notes from these last two weeks.

This is the second time I went to NJPAC, which is a bit difficult to explain since it is quite a bit closer to us than Lincoln Center, and they do put out reasonably attractive programs.  For example, in mid April they will have Joshua Bell and the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields.  Regardless, the concert hall is kind of circular in shape, with spacious and comfortable seats.  But the acoustics leaves a lot to be desired.  I had a lot of trouble with the cellos, they just didn’t come through.  Strangely, the solo cello was okay.  The hall seats about 2500 people, but even with the four tier blocked off, the remaining sections were about 80% full.

In the Notes there is an admonition to the audience they should not applaud in between movements.  Since I don’t see the same notice in the Avery Fisher Hall programs, I feel it is a slight slap in the face of the Newark audience.  In any case, there was no reason to worry about this: the applause was so tepid that I felt obliged to clap loudly so as to give the artists some moral support.

The New York Times reviewer saw the Avery Fisher Hall performance, naturally.

New York Philharmonic – David Zinman, conductor; Peter Serkin, piano. March 2, 2012.

Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra 1 (Seat V 107, $70.)

Program

Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 36 (1801-02) by Beethoven (1770-1827).

Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra (1928-29, rev. 1949) by Stravinsky (1882-1971).

Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92 (1811-12) by Beethoven.

We had heard Zinman a couple of times conducting the New York Philharmonic, according to my previous blogs.  For this season he will be conducting a three-week “The Modern Beethoven: A Philharmonic Festival” series.  This is the first week, the following week’s program will feature Symphonies Nos. 4 and 8, and the last week will have Nos. 1 and 7.  Thus Nos. 5, 6 and 9 will not be heard, which makes me wonder how the selections were made, or why the festival is not extended (by two weeks I guess) to cover them.

The other somewhat puzzling item is the choice of the descriptor “The Modern Beethoven” for these concerts.  As far as I could tell, this performance was a “regular” rendition of the symphonies, and the only thing modern about it would be that an orchestra would play them today differently from how they would be played during Beethoven’s time.  A different point would be Beethoven was modern for his time, indeed his music still sounds fresh for today’s audience, even though it is familiar.  Lastly, in each of these concerts there is a solo piece from the modern era.  Today it is Stravinsky.  Next week it is Barber’s Cello Concerto (performed by Alisa Weilerstein) and for the last week Hartman’s Concerto funebre (Gil Shaham.)  Not sure how they fit in, other than to show contrast.

The second symphony is one of the less popular Beethoven symphonies, and I last heard it in August 2010 as part of the Mostly Mozart festival.  The Program Notes describes how some critics consider Beethoven’s odd-numbered symphonies to be “radical and extroverted” and even-numbered ones to be “conservative and reflective.”  Generally this piece fits the description.  It was simply enjoyable, familiar or not.  The four movements are Adagio molto – Allegro con brio, Larghetto, Scherzo (Allegro), and Allegro molto.

The last time I heard the seventh live was March 2010 in Beijing.  I also enjoyed it, even though there was some quibble with the concert hall’s acoustics.  With regard to “radical and extrovert,” there certainly are enough elements for the music to fit that description.  However, if one listens to the second movement, one would come away concluding that it is “conservative and reflective.”  Some time ago I read Beethoven as being a person of contrasts; I think that would be a better descriptor of his music.  The movements are Poco sostenuto – Vivace, Allegretto, Presto, and Allegro con brio.  I wonder if there is any Beethoven symphony that doesn’t contain a “con brio” movement.

Speaking of the second movement, Zinman took it way too fast for my taste.  The recording on my iPod was performed by Carlo Maria Giulini conducting the La Scala Philharmonic, and it lasts 40 minutes.  It took Zinman 36 minutes to polish it off (per the Program Notes.)  It felt as if all the reduction in time came from the second movement (an exaggeration, of course.)

Even though the orchestra sounded at times a bit confused, it didn’t detract from this being a well-played and enjoyable performance.

The seating arrangement for the Stravinsky at first appeared quite puzzling.  We had Michelle Kim sitting in the Concertmaster’s chair (Sheryl Staples was off today), which was not unusual since the principals often excuse themselves when there is a guest soloist.  Then I noticed that Glen Dicterow was seated somewhere in the violin section.  And there is a double bass right at the front of the stage.  I should have studied the Program Notes a bit more: there is a concertino group of solo violin, viola, cello, and bass.  Also the violins play as one undivided section.

Stravinsky chose to call this a Capriccio instead of a Piano Concerto for a couple of reasons.  One is at 16 minutes it probably is a bit short to be called one.  The three movements (Presto, Andante rapsodico, and Allegro capriccioso ma tempo giusto; the third movement being the first one written) are played without pause.  The second reason, attributed to Prokofiev, was Stravinsky's fear that there isn’t enough virtuosity in it.

Peter Serkin may beg to differ a bit with the last statement.  At a minimum, he needed the music, and as far as I could tell, referred to it quite often.  And the music did exhibit a lot of the characteristics described by Stravinsky: “juxtaposition of episodes of various kinds which follow one another.”  From where we sat, the piano was overwhelmed sometimes by the orchestra, even though Serkin seemed to be pounding away at it.

Most people would associated the name “Serkin” with the first name “Rudolf,” Peter’s father.  Since Rudolf is mentioned in Peter’s biography, one can surmise that there is no worry about the father’s shadow.  The biography certainly contains a long list of Peter’s accomplishments and the awards he has garnered.  Yet one wonders how they compare; there is no escape from “I am my father’s son.”  Her certainly looks quite youthful for his age (mid 60s).

We had already bought tickets to the third concert of this series.  We cannot attend the second concert in New York City because we have conflicts on all three days; and they were on sale on Goldstar.com.  It turns out the program will be played at NJPAC in Newark this Friday, so we will be going there instead.  I remember having Mozart-overload after listening to three of his symphonies at one concert, I wonder how I would feel after three weeks of Beethoven.

This concert started at 2 pm, so we got in early enough to have lunch.  To our surprise, Sushi-a-go-go was closed; the owner declared bankruptcy despite the brisk business it always seemed to be doing.  So we had a quick bite at Jalapeno’s.  Not expensive, but not that great either.

The New York Times review on the performance is very positive, and contains some insight into the (strenuous) connection between Stravinsky and Beethoven.

Metropolitan Opera – Verdi’s Ernani. February 25, 2012.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Family Circle (Seat H106, $45.50).

Story.  Elvira is in love with Ernani, who has become a bandit after losing his royal title as Don Juan of Aragon.  Elvira is in turned loved by Don de Silva, a Spanish grandee, and Don Carlo, the king of Spain.  When Ernani and Don Carlo (in disguise) happen to be in Elvira’s room together, Silva walks in on them.  After Don Carlo’s identify is revealed, he allows Ernani to leave.  As the preparations for the marriage of Elvira and Silva get underway, Ernani shows up in disguise.  He confronts Elvira who then tells him she intends to kill herself at the wedding.  When the king enters, Silva saves Ernani’s life by hiding him; they also agree to join forces to kill the King.  Ernani in turn pledges his life with his hunting horn, promising Silva that he will kill himself when the horn is sounded.  While the conspirators are planning the assassination of Don Carlo, the king of Spain is elected the Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire.  The Emperor then decrees the noble rebels to be executed and the commoners imprisoned.  Ernani reveals his identity as a nobleman.  Elvira's pleas make the Emperor pardon everyone.  As Ernani is about to marry Elvira, Silva sounds his horn and demands Ernani kill himself.  After Ernani plunges a dagger in his own heart, Elvira pulls it out and kills herself with it.

Conductor – Marco Armiliato.  Ernani – Marcello Giordani, Elvira Silva’s niece and betrothed – Angela Meade; Don Carlo, king of Spain – Dmitri Hvorostovsky; Don Ruy Gomez de Silva, a Spanish grandee – Ferruccio Furlanetto.

The synopses both at the Metopera website and in the playbill are pretty bland.  And in general it reflects the story which requires a lot of filling in of the background by the audience member. The Story above has elements in the opera but not in the synopses. What I didn’t expect was that Elvira would also kill herself, and that the scene would end with Silva standing above the two dead lovers proclaiming the power of revenge.  In some sense that last scene reflects this opera, it has great potential, but that potential wasn’t fulfilled.

The performance started at 1:00 pm and ended at around 4:30 pm.  However, with two intermissions (about 35 minutes each) and two changes of scenes (at about 5 minutes each), the actual performance felt quite short.  As with Nabucco, I wish the characters and the storyline are developed a bit more fully so I didn’t have to supply a lot of imagination.  On the other hand, this is one of Verdi’s earlier operas (fifth out of 28), and melodies abound.  They are not as singable as those in, say, La Traviata, and I didn’t know any of them.  As the Program Notes describes, the orchestra’s role is mainly accompaniment.  Nonetheless it put in an excellent performance.  While the sound of the horn brought on the dread that Ernani had to kill himself, it was very effective.

Angela Meade must be part of the Met’s future.  Looking over her biography in the Playbill, one may come to the conclusion that she is positioned as the next Anna Netrebko.  Her voice is strong throughout her considerable range, but is a bit on the harsh side in the “high-loud” area, and she had a lot of trouble with the many trills that are called for in this opera.  But her “high-soft” is just exquisite, it floats graciously throughout the theatre (we were seated in the mid-Family Circle area.)  She certainly held her own against the three male singers. She can't quite compare with Netrebko when her back is to the audience, though.

Other principals (the three suitors) did quite well also.  Hvorostovsky as Don Carlo was weak at times.  (Disclosure: it may have been Furlanetto as Silva.)  The chorus was unexpectedly weak, which is unusual; perhaps somehow the sound didn’t carry well to our area?

The sets are quite massive, and serve their purposes well.  That makes the scene changes a bit unwieldy, and most likely contributed to the time it took to complete.  I find it amusing that there are all these steps people have to walk up and down, must be quite exhausting.

The audience was very enthusiastic and applauded on many occasions.  Many well deserved, some a bit doubtful.  Perhaps that this performance was broadcast live added to that enthusiasm.  We had coffee at the Rubenstein Atrium after the concert, before we drove down to Jersey City to have dinner with Kuau and Ellie at Amelia’s.

Today was a windy day (gusts reported to be up in the 50 mph range) and we had trouble walking on the streets.  It actually snowed a bit, even though the temperature was in the 40s.  No accumulation though.

The New York Times reviewer saw another tenor in the role of Ernani.  The review has some interesting background information on the set and Angela Meade.  And he would agree that the story, based on a play by Victor Hugo, is a bit contrived.

Orpheus Chamber Orchestra with Jean-Yves Thibaudet, Piano. February 11, 2012.

Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, Section Parquet Right (Seat Y14, $25).

Program
Divertimento on "Sellinger's Round" (1954) by Michael Tippett (1905-98).
Piano Concerto No. 1 in C minor, Op. 35 (1933) by Shostakovich (1906-75).
   Louis Hanzuk, Trumpet
Pastorale d'ete (1920) by Arthur Honegger (1892-1955).
Serenade for Strings in C major, Op. 48 (1880) by Tchaikovsky (1840-1893).

Today’s concert had a somewhat unusual start time of 7 pm.  We left at around 5 pm, and got to the parking garage in less than an hour.  We actually had time to walk around a bit after a quick dinner at Lilies 57.

In general I don’t understand how a concert program is put together, and in today’s case it is even more puzzling.  Inclusion of the two pieces by Russian masters is obvious enough, but how the pieces by Tippett and Honegger fit in escapes me.

Not that there is anything wrong with either of them.  To celebrate the coronation of Queen Elizabeth, Benjamin Britten asked six composers to contribute to the Variations on an Elizabethan Theme, with the theme a famous tune (Sellinger’s Round) from the time of QEI.  Tippett wrote the second variation, A Lament.  He then went on to write additional movements to generate a complete piece.  Each movement quotes another British composer: (i) Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625): Fantasia for Strings; (ii) Henry Purcell (1659-95): “Dido’s Lament” from Dido and Aeneas (this is the movement in the QEII tribute); (iii) Thomas Arne (1710-78): “Preach me not your musty rules” from Comus; (iv) John Field (1782-1837): Nocturne in D minor; and (v) Arthur Sullivan (1842-1900): “I have a song to sing, O!” from The Yeoman of the Guard.  Since I do not know any of the quoted pieces, I cannot say how direct the quotes are.  The music is interesting, but not awe-inspiring.

The inclusion of the Honegger piece is even more puzzling.  Honegger, whom I also had never heard of before, was anointed as a member of “Les six” in 1920, the year he wrote this “Summer Pastoral,” by a French music critic Henri Collet.  At seven minutes it is a short piece.  It is generally quite slow, with the composer trying to paint a picture of a lazy, relaxed summer morning.  Nothing wrong with that, but again not awe-inspiring.

One would expect a full orchestra (say 12 first violins) to accompany a solo work of one of the modern masters such as Shostakovich.  For tonight’s performance we have a total of 25 of so musicians, five first violins.  With a large orchestra I often complain about the piano being overwhelmed, with a small one the opposite result would be expected.  Indeed that turned out to be the case, although the overall effect was okay.  Compared to the Brahms violin concerto I heard them play last, the group was much more together, even though the music can be characterized as being more chaotic.  Go figure.  The concerto itself is quite short at an advertised 21 minutes, and consists of four movements: Allegro moderato, Lento, Moderato – Allegro con brio.  The third movement was very short and continued as the fourth without pause.  As the Program Notes says, the piece contains a plethora of ideas and does not follow a standard concerto form.  I find it quite interesting, although I wonder how it would come across if it had a larger development section to it.  In any case, the overall effect was more traditional than I expected.  Even though he needed the music in front of him, Thibaudet turned in a delightful performance.

Another interesting aspect of the concerto is the quotations from Beethoven.  I could hear the one form the Appassionata Sonata well enough , but have to defer to Anne when she said she recognized the one from The Rage over a Lost Penny.  There is also a significant trumpet part in the concerto, though no so much to warrant an equal billing with the piano.

After the intermission a WQXR announcer (Elliott Forrest? I am not sure) came on the stage and interviewed a couple of the musicians about the Tchaikovsky piece.  One relayed that they did a spontaneous performance at Chicago O’Hare when they were snowed in at that airport; the other said he had played at every chair for this piece, and how things were always a bit different every time. (Turns out he led this performance.)  I know this piece very well, having played a movement of it as member of my high school orchestra at a competition (which we won, hands down: my school has dominated the orchestra category for at least 40 years.) The four movements are (i) Pezzo I forma di Sonatina; Andante non troppo – Allegro moderato; (ii) Valse: Moderato (Tempo di Valse); (iii) Elegia: Larghetto elegiaco; and (iv) Finale (Tema Russo): Andante – Allegro con spirit.  The piece is easy to listen to, and evokes the spontaneity with which Tchaikovsky composed it.  The performance was enjoyable, but I am not sure it was that much better than when our school orchestra played it.

The concert was reasonably well attended.  Interestingly, quite a few people left after the first half, and more did after the first piece of the second half.  I can understand leaving after Thibaudet’s performance, but continue to scratch my head why they didn’t stay for the Tchaikovsky piece.

After the concert we drove to Jersey City to visit Ellie and Kuau in their new apartment overlooking the Hudson and Manhattan.

Metropolitan Opera – Wagner’s Gotterdammerung. February 3, 2012.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Balcony Seat B10 ($71.50).

Story.  See previous post.

Conductor - Fabio Luisi.  Norns - Maria Radner, Elizabeth Bishop, Heidi Melton; Brunnhilde - Katarina Dalayman; Siegfried - Stephen Gould; Gunther - Iain Paterson; Hagen - Hans-Peter Konig; Gutrune - Wendy Bryn Harmer; Waltaute - Waltraud Meier; Alberich - Eric Owens; Rheinmaidens - Erin Morley, Jennifer Johnson Cano, Tamara Mumford.

This is the last of Wagner’s Ring operas.  We saw the new production Das Rheingold and Die Walkure last season at the Met, but we couldn’t see Siegfried because it was on during our Australian trip, so we will only manage a “broken ring” this past year.  Of course a Ring purist would say a real ring cycle must fall within the same week anyway.

We got back from Australia a few days ago, although I didn’t have severe jet lag, I was nonetheless getting very little sleep the last few days.  As I feared, I had quite a bit of trouble staying alert throughout the 5 ½ hour program, although I didn’t once doze off (that I am aware of.)  Anne had similar problems; only in her case she did doze off.  Awake or not, we both thought the opera could move along at a faster pace.

First, a few words about the set.  Remember, this is the super-expensive (latest figure $16 million) Robert Lepage production based on 24 planks.  From what I remember of the first two operas, even though I didn’t think it was worth the money, I at least grudgingly agreed that it worked to a certain extent.  For this opera, however, it didn’t work very well.  The planks by-and-large just served as a projection screen for different backgrounds (fire, bucolic scenes, castle, etc.)  Yes, every now and then they would be configured into various structures, but those were both simplistic and artificial.  Anne did wonder if the concentric rings we saw a lot of were “inspired” by the fact that this is a Ring opera.  They wouldn’t be that pedestrian, or would they?

Several interesting props were used.  The first one was Brunnhilde’s horse Grane.  It is a metal shell in the shape of horse on a dolly, but its moves were so convincing that I had to look at it again and again with my binoculars to make sure.  The final scene of the funeral pyre and self-immolation is probably one of the most anticipated scenes in opera.  I remember it as being very disappointing at Seattle, so didn’t quite know what to anticipate.  What happened was they built a pyre of (fake) logs which glowed with so much smoke that eventually not much was visible.  After Brunnhilde brought Grane to the pyre, the planks covered them up.  Finally, the very last scene was Valhalla being destroyed (or it was self-destruction, I am not sure).  Anne said she saw the statues were “pre-cracked”; I saw several people hiding behind the planks, probably backups who were called on to do their backup job.

When the opera began, there were three “Norns” weaving these heavy ropes that dislodged from the planks as the story-telling unfolded.  We were worried somehow things would get tangled up, but to their credit nothing did.  Also it is amazing how people (especially the Rhinemaidens) could move so agilely up and down (mostly by sliding) these slopes.  We were a bit worried that the four “pallbearers” of Siegfried would drop him from the make-shift carrier made from his coat and two spears; and it had to be quite uncomfortable for Siegfried.  Another major difference is harnesses were not used at all in this opera.  The Rheinmaidens were no longer suspended

So those are the physical aspects of the program.  How about the music?

The good news is after listening this many times to the Ring operas, we are getting familiar with the motifs.  I was waiting for the Valhalla motif, and (as far as I know) it came on only towards the end.  And there were many broken Brunnhilde variations which I would prefer to be more straightforward.  While I was happy to pat myself on the back every time I recognize a theme, I thought the Nothung theme was used a bit too much.

We didn’t get to hear Deborah Voigt this time.  Katarina Dalayman sang the role of Brunnhilde.  Her voice when it came through was great, but the volume was inconsistent.  The Rhinemaidens, all graduates of the Lindemann program, did a great job – having the planks right behind them certainly helped.  I assume there are no easy Wagner roles, so to everyone’s credit they made things look relatively easy.  Another standout was Waltrud Meier singing the role of Waltrude (same name, practically).

In the writeup on Das Rheingold I noted the six harps but wasn’t sure they ever did play all at the same time.  This time around I am sure they did.  The sound didn’t come through very clearly, though.  In general the orchestra did very well, especially compared to what I remember of the Seattle experience.

It was August 2009 when I first (and last) saw this opera.  I don’t recall much of that, but don’t remember it as being a particularly memorable program.  I at least found several episodes of tonight’s performance moving.  I have come to a conclusion that many people see operas (or movies, or plays) again and again for various reasons.  One is that the context is so rich that several shows are required to fully absorb the whole experience.  The other, I suspect, is few people can stay alert for the entire length of the program.  I said after August 2009 that it is unlikely I will sit through a Ring cycle again.  I may want to revisit that statement.  The test would be whether I will pick a Ring opera over some other opera.

One word about traffic (vehicular, that is).  The concert started at 6 pm, so we left a bit after 4, thinking we would beat the traffic.  The upshot is never try Lincoln Tunnel at switch over time.  The delay went from 5 minutes when we left the house to over 30 minutes by the time we got there.  We managed to park in the Lincoln Center garage ($36) with only enough time to spare to go to the restroom before the performance began.  They were also fixing the Turnpike late that evening, so we got hung up a bit in traffic also.  It was way after 1 am when we got home.

The New York Times reviewer saw Deborah Voigt in the role of Brunnhilde and Jay Hunter Morris as Siegfried.  I actually first mistook her photo for that of Dalayman, a tribute to the make-up artists, perhaps.  The review began with the remark “(this) is the most theatrically effective staging of the four works” but went on to say “Mr. Lepage has simplified the staging and used fewer of the capacities of (the) 45-ton set.”  Isn’t that another way of saying a $16 million projection screen works very well?  The reviewer also had a lengthy discourse on how Voigt’s voice had fared the last few years.  Finally, she evidently rode on Grane in the immolation scene!

I did check the Met website about the three Ring Cycles later in the year.  Many of the sections are already sold out, and the prices are outrageous.  The least expensive ticket (Family Circle, partial view) costs $95 each!

Driving in Upstate New York the following afternoon (Saturdya), we heard Fabio Luisi being interviewed during a break in the Met broadcast.  He remarked that a conductor has two souls at work, one wants to go wild with the music, the other needs to exert control.  (Or some words to that effect.)  Overall he did a great job, especially if I compare what I saw Friday with what I remember of the Seattle Ring experience.  There was also this interview with Anna Netrebko where she did say she had to play an “angry” Anna Bolena, so the constant scowl on her face was intentional: not that I agree with that approach.

Opera Australia – Puccini’s Turandot. January 21, 2012.

Opera Theatre, Sydney Opera House.  Dress Circle (Seat P20, A$115.)

Story.  See previous post.

Conductor – Arvo Volmer.  Liu – Daria Masiero, Timur – Jud Arthur, Calaf – Rosario La Spina, Ping – Andrew Moran, Pong –David Corcoran, Pang – Graeme Macfarlane, Turandot – Susan Foster.

Six of us (Anne & myself, Ruth & Stephen, and Ling & Wally) went to see this opera after a simple lunch at Peking Dumplings in Chinatown.  Our row is the very last one in the theatre, but we are reasonably close to the stage.  Actually Anne and I moved up a few rows after Act I as there were quite a few empty seats.

Despite my impression that I was familiar with the opera, I had only heard it live once at the Holmdel Arts Center, as a concert.  And despite my not having seen this before, the opera felt very familiar.  Perhaps it is the simplicity of the plot, or perhaps it is because the melodies (some based on Chinese folk songs) are very familiar to me.

Bottom line: the overall performance was disappointing.  My major complaint is that it was sloppy, resulting in a muddled sound most of the time.

One performer that shone was Daria Masiero.  Her voice is not particularly strong, but she manages to convey well the emotions of Liu: her love of Calaf, and her willingness to sacrifice for him.  As a story, the sad part is that Calaf really didn’t have a lot of use for her, even though she made the ultimate sacrifice to save him from being executed.  Her two songs in Act I and Act III were the ones that came close to moving the audience.

Susan Foster as Turandot is basically a “shouter.”  She can belt out her notes clearly across the theatre, but without much drama.  Her explanation of why she was the way she was bordered on incomprehensible, and her change of heart wasn’t done with a lot of conviction either.

Most people have heard Pavarotti’s rendition of Nessum Dorma in the Three Tenors CD, and use that as the standard by which to measure performances by others.  This was poorly done by La Spina, not by the “gold” standard, but even by the standard of the amateur production I heard at the Holmdel Arts Center.  To be fair, La Spina was quite okay up to that point; but we expect the great ones to nail the difficult pieces, which he didn’t.

The stage is a bit small for the number of people they put on; you worry about them running into one another.  To their credit, no mishap occurred.  (It’s not always a given, I still remember a dancer at Madama Butterfly falling down, hard.) The color schemes are nice, but after a while you come to the conclusion that the design really doesn’t have a unifying theme to it.  Art for the sake of the artist showing off, not as part of a whole.  For my taste there was a bit too much smoke and mist.

In case you think the bashing is done, I have yet come to the orchestra and the chorus.  Here they needed to work on the most basic of orchestral and choral music: precision.  Other than for the simplest of passages (such as the song adapted from the folk song “Flower Song”), stray notes were all over the place, and imprecision was the norm.

There was very little applause during the Acts, only exception being after Nessum Dorma.  The applause at the end was quite enthusiastic, though.

I found today (23 Jan) a local review.  Another case of the reviewer needs to go out more.

Metropolitan Opera – Jeremy Sams’ The Enchanted Island. January 14, 2011.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Balcony A6 ($109.50).

Story.  Prospero asks the spirit Ariel to shipwreck Ferdinand’s ship so he can arrange for the marriage between Ferdinand and Prospero’s daughter Miranda.  Ariel makes a mistake and shipwrecks a ship with the couples Demetrius & Helena and Lysander & Hermia instead.  This starts the messy relationships that ensue: between Miranda and first Demetrius and then Lysander, and between Caliban and Helena.  Caliban is the son of Sycorax who was in love with Prospero but abandoned by him eventually.  Helena eventually comes to her senses and leaves Caliban, and Ariel brings together Miranda and the two couples and set things straight.  Ferdinand and Miranda falls in love, Sycorax forgives Prospero, and all is well.  Neptune comes out on a couple of occasions, once to help with the search for Ferdinand, and once to exhort people to do the right thing.

Conductor – William Christie; Prospero – Anthony Roth Costanzo, Ariel – Danielle de Niese, Sycorax – Joyce DiDonato, Caliban – Luca Pisaroni, Miranda – Lisette Oropesa, Helena – Layla Claire, Hermia – Elizabeth DeShong, Demetrius – Paul Appleby, Lysander – Elliot Madore, Neptune – Placido Domingo, Ferdinand – Jeffrey Mandelbaum.

First a few words about the genesis of this opera.  The front of the program says “A Baroque fantasy in two acts.  Devised and written by Jeremy Sams.  Inspired by Shakespeare’s The Tempest and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  Music by George Frederic Handel, Antonio Vivaldi, Jean-Philippe Rameau, Andre Campra, Jean-Marie Leclair, Henry Purcell, Jean-Fery Rebel, and Giovanni Battisa Ferrandini.”  To my understanding, this means the opera is a pastiche compiled by Jeremy Sams using parts of operas written by the long list of composers listed above.  Sams provided the libretto, and (probably) on occasion also adapted the music (he cites a sextet – the one sung by Ariel and the five confused lovers – based on a Handel quartet.)  The libretto is a made-up story combining elements of The Tempest and A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The premiere of the opera is at the end of 2011, and though I try to avoid reading a review of a performance I am about to see, I couldn’t help but read the writeup in the New York Times.  I will re-read that later, but for now remember it as being very positive, except for the fact the Domingo needed a lot of prompting (and even there the reviewer wasn’t being particularly harsh.)  While I try to make this my own writeup, I am sure I will be influenced by what I read there.

I don’t follow the singers world to see who is famous and who is not, so it is natural that I don’t recognize most of the people in the roster, with the exception of DiDonato and, of course, Domingo.  Indeed many of the artists are young, many are either in or a graduate of the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program.  Recently there has been a flood of them on the Met stage, and most of them do very well, a tribute to how successful the program is.

When I was reading the synopsis, I told myself it was going to be very confusing, and there was no way I could track the relationships since (given where we sat) everyone would look the same anyway.  Turns out I could follow the different characters with relative ease; probably a case of different parts of my brain work differently.

The staging is baroque-esque (so the Program Notes says) but enhanced with modern day projection techniques.  The sceneries are mostly 2-dimensional but work quite well.  There are harnessed mermaids swimming when Neptune comes out, and many sea nymphs with body suits and sea-shell bikinis (probably answering an earlier question I had for Das Rheingold).  The raindrops are quite realistic, and a bit of magic is involved, including fire eruptions and sparkle.  All in all an effective backdrop for what happens with the singers.

The stand-out in the cast has got to be Danielle de Niese singing the role of Ariel.  Not only is her singing superb, she also steals the show with her acting.  Good writing, undoubtedly, but she managed to pull it off.  There are some very demanding rapid runs that she pulled off without a glitch, and her voice carries well.  Some of the more comic moments are her coming to see Neptune in a diver’s outfit, and her carrying a small case when she leaves the scene.  A Melbourne native and a graduate of the Lindemann program, I suspect she will spend a lot of time outside her home country.

There are many examples of someone filling in a role at short notice and hits it big.  One has to wonder if that would be the case with Anthony Roth Constanzo who filled in as Prospero for a sick David Daniels.  Constanzo is listed as Ferdinand, whose role is limited to a couple of arias.  As Prospero he is a main character with a lot of exposure.  He was a bit unsteady at times and missed several words, but he improved tremendously as the show progressed.  He aria towards the end, begging Sycorax for forgiveness, earned one of the longest applauses I have seen at the Met.

The role of Neptune is well-suited for Domingo, someone close to the end of his singing career but still commands quite a presence.  (Let’s hope Domingo’s career as a conductor continues to succeed.)  We heard Domingo as Emperor Qin in The First Emperor and enjoyed his singing, even though the music was inscrutable. By that measure tonight was a disappointment: he was a bit mechanical and his diction was wildly off.  I don’t know if he was still looking at the prompts, or these professionals hide it very well.  Since he has sung close to 140 roles, I think giving him a pass is the reasonable thing to do.  Question is: does he want one?

I have mentioned on many occasions my puzzlement when women singers are used in the roles of young men.  Ariel, whom I understand to be a male spirit, is another one of those examples.  In this case things are not that bad, she has wings and is not really a person, anyway.  However, using Countertenors and their high voices in the roles of Prospero and Ferdinand is inexplicable.  I got very confused when Prospero and Sycorax were singing this duet, and sometimes DiDonato’s voice was lower than that of Prospero and I thus couldn’t tell who was asking for forgiveness and who was doing the forgiving.

If I have to characterize this story, it would have to be a comedy.  A comedy that works quite well, actually.   Memorable examples are the antics of Ariel and Lysander and Miranda discovering that their names rhyme.  Nonetheless, there are some poignant moments, in particular the one where Caliban has to come to realize that love isn’t in the cards for him.

In the Program Notes Sams laments the fact that there are too many good melodies and he could incorporate only a limited number in this work.  For instance, he uses nine from Vivaldi and claims there is at least 20 more he could have used.  Indeed at close to 3 hours (not counting the intermission) this is a long opera, but there are many repeats, several of which are “twice.”  Perhaps he could cut those repeats and make room for additional arias?  We are making this up anyway, so breaking the norm of doing repeats would be legitimate.  Of course that would involve additional orchestration and scenes, which I suspect is another factor in this.

I certainly enjoyed this more than I would have expected, but not so much as the New York Times review would lead me to believe.  The real test is what happens to this opera as time wears on?  Will it make its way to the genre’s standard repertoire, or will it eventually fade away like a ripple on a pond?

Before this, my attendance at operas based on Shakespeare’s plays always helped me understand the plays better.  No luck this time, though.  The characters are similar, but I couldn’t quite get if that’s what Shakespeare had in mind.

Anne mentioned to me as we were leaving that the Opera reminds her of Handel’s Messiah, and I said nothing of the sort, I didn’t hear any “I know that my Redeemer liveth” or anything similar in it.  And what is in the first paragraph of the Times review?  The finale is lifted from Handel’s Hallelujah chorus.  Not from the Messiah, but from “Judas Maccabaeus.”

New York Philharmonic – Zubin Mehta, conductor. January 13, 2012.

Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra 1 (Seat X104, $70.)

Program

Symphony No. 8 in C minor (1887/90; ed. Nowak, 1955) by Bruckner (1824-96).

If you read the Playbill a bit further, you will read under “Work composed” the words “1884-August 10, 1887; revised April 1889-March 1890; correspondence reveals that Bruckner dedicated this symphony to Emperor Franz Joseph of Austra.”  Evidently Bruckner’s work endures several characteristics.  One is his self-doubt could cause him to revise his work, often extensively; the other is that several of his students modified his music rather extensively, either at his request or on their own initiative (with the composer’s agreement, apparently).  To decide what was what probably is a musicologist’s dream, for the average audience member who may listen to any particular work once every few years, it may not matter very much.  For the record, the Nowak edition brings us back to the “Bruckner original,” or does it?

That, it turns out, is my critique of the Program Notes for this concert.  Long on historical facts, but little on what informed Bruckner when he wrote this, and whether this music broke new grounds.  The conductor Hermann Levi, to whom Bruckner sent the first manuscript, was baffled by the symphony.  Perhaps our annotator is, also?

Looking over my blog, it turns out this is the fourth Bruckner symphony I heard since I started recording these events in 2005.  The ones I heard earlier are the sixth, seventh, and ninth.  So for me it is four performances in six or so years.   I must say this is the least baffling one, if my recollection of my prior encounters serves correctly.

I always think of Bruckner’s symphonies as being very long, and this is one of the longest at 83 minutes total (both advertised and in actuality).  And everyone in the orchestra showed up (I did notice both Cynthia Phelps and Eileen Moon were not there, so it’s a bit of an hyperbole.)  The percussion section is relatively small, with only the timpani, the cymbals, and the triangle.  There are two harps, though.

There is quite a bit of brouhaha on a recent New York Philharmonic performance where Alan Gilbert halted the performance because of a cell phone alarm.  Today the lady in front of us was quite annoyed at the rustle of page-turning by the lady next to me.  Thus I wasn’t about to dig out a pen and scribble notes onto a pad.  There is no way I can do an analysis of the music, but I did try to remember something about each of the movements.

One would think the first movement (Allegro moderato) will be the longest, as with most symphonies; and one would be wrong.  It is not short, at 20 or so minutes, but not particularly long.  It contains quite a few themes that are tonal, but there is no development, climax, or any of the traditional progression one may find in a symphonic movement.  Most interestingly, the movement ended on an upward flourish that isn’t particularly dramatic.  If you didn’t know the second movement is marked “Scherzo.  Allegro moderato – Trio.  Slow. Scherzo da capo” you wouldn’t have called it a scherzo and trio movement.  But the divisions are easy to find, and one can stretch and call the scherzo a scherzo.  It is overall a very enjoyable movement.  The third movement (Adagio.  Solemnly slow, but not dragging) is the longest at around 30 minutes.  Even though the tempo is measured, it is the most dramatic movement with the music building up to clear climaxes.  It also has some of the wandering elements that so characterize Mahler’s music.  Interestingly I have not come across much on how Mahler and Bruckner influenced each other.  They were both Austria-born and had a lot of overlapping years.  But I digress … The last movement (Finale.  Solemn, not fast) sounded to me like a recap of the earlier movements, with new elements thrown into the mix.

Sitting in my seat, not being able to move much (or lacked the courage to do so), it was still a rather quick 80-plus minutes, even though I had to fight the urge to doze off every now and then.  Anne’s back was acting up and was a bit uncomfortable.  Mehta is in his 80s and didn’t show his age at all.  Not only did he conduct without the music, he also did it without the railing at the end of the podium.  He moves his body and arms quite a bit, but his feet seem firmly planted.

The applause was quite enthusiastic.  I noticed that Mehta shook the hands of the violists (Young and her neighbor) but seemed to ignore Dicterow and Staples.  Did I miss it, or were there some ill feelings from Mehta’s tenure as the Orchestra’s music director?  Cosmic order was restored when Mehta patted Dicterow on the back at the third curtain call.

The New York Times review is very positive on the performance, and references some of the problems when Mehta was leading the New York Philharmonic.  It also has a good storyline (mountain trekking) for the symphony.

Today was one of the coldest days of this so-far warm winter season.  The actual temperature was around freezing, but felt much colder with a stiff breeze that gusts to over 40 mph.  We drove in; the several blocks from the parking garage to the restaurant (Eastern Szechuan Garden) wasn’t easy.  Good thing we didn’t hit much traffic either way.

Metropolitan Opera - Engelbert Humperdinck's Hansel and Gretel. December 26, 2011.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center - Balcony F116 ($52.50).

Story.  See previous post.

Conductor - Robin Ticciati; Gretel - Aleksandra Kurzak, Hansel - Alice Coote, Gertrude - Michaela Martens, Peter - Dwayne Croft, The Sandman - Jennifer Johnson Cano, The Dew Fairy - Ashley Emerson, The Witch - Robert Brubaker.

We attended this opera with our children and their spouses.  Everyone is quite up to it, except for Joe whose love of Broadway musicals doesn't seem to extend to operas.  H&G isn't my first choice as an introductory opera (that would be Carmen, La Traviata, or one of Puccini's), but the other available choices are Faust and La Fille du Regiment.  Joe and Jess went up to New York earlier that day (they would stay the night there); Anne, Ellie and Kuau drove up at around 4 pm and had dinner in the area; and I took the 5:15 pm train from Metropark and met up with the five of them at the Opera House.  I stayed behind to ensure Joe and Jess's dog Ruby was okay; she had just spent the prior night at a Vet Emergency Hospital after ingesting two bars of dark chocolate, which is evidently quite toxic to dogs.

We saw H&G put out by New York City Opera in 2006.  Those were my early concert blogging days (it was number 43 or so out of the two hundred plus I have done so far), so I look back at my review with a certain degree of amusement.  Unfortunately, this review isn't going to be that much more insightful than the one I wrote five years ago.

First the sets.  One would assume the sets put out by the Met will be quite a bit more elaborate than those by NYCO.  It is debatable in this case.  The Playbill provides an interesting insight into the three kitchens designed for the three acts.  Act 1 happens in a D.H. Lawrence-inspired kitchen setting, Act 2 in a German Expressionist one, and Act 3 is in a Theater of the Absurd.  Good on paper, and brilliant perhaps to someone into this sort of stuff, but for someone like myself, nothing of the sort.

This is my assessment. Act 1 takes place in a kitchen, of unknown period.  Both the simplicity and the grayness can be attributed to the family's being poor and don't need to have anything to do with D.H. Lawrence.  (Since I don't know much about the subject, I did a web search of his paintings, and still have no idea how this kitchen relates to him.)  Act 2 is basically a long dining table inside a larger room.  There are trees that move, I assume they represent ghouls Hansel and Gretel encounter.  The 14 angels are represented by overweight cooks who would strike fear in anyone who sees them.  And what is the fish doing there?  Perhaps these are elements of German Expressionism?  The only thing absurd about Act 3 is the food fight that starts with the Witch's head pushed into a pie and his face is all covered with icing afterwards.  To me resorting to physical comedy of this sort smacks more of desperation than genius.

The music is generally easy to understand.  While Humperdinck adopted many of his mentor Wagner's techniques, it is much easier to trace how his themes are developed as the Opera unfolds.  The overture was crisp and pleasant, but there are times the music got a bit muddled, which is a bit surprising given that it doesn't sound that complicated.  Joe was marveling at how clear the singing sounded without the aid of a sound system, and in general that is quite true: the singing comes across very well.  It is interesting when the singers are in front of a curtain, their voices don't carry too well, probably because the curtain material doesn't resonate well.

We again have a woman singing the role of a young Hansel.  I guess it doesn't matter who is singing which part, and since Hansel is a young boy, his voice is probably in the treble range anyway.  We heard Alice Coote in Elijah before; she didn't leave a lasting impression then, and she didn't leave one today either.  To confuse the audience further, a man played the witch dressed in woman's gear.  The advantage is that it allowed the choreographer to put in a few crude comic moments (yes, I used the word "crude.")

I am a bit surprised at how negative I end up being with this performance.  Perhaps it is due to my high expectations going in: this is the Met, so it has to be much better than what I remember of the NYCO.  Another reason for disappointment is one would think after reading the Playbill that this will be an impressive opera at many different levels.  Instead I find it wanting at many different levels.

The New York Times review is very enthusiastic.  The performance reviewed had a different singer playing Hansel.  I attribute the enthusiasm at least partially to a charitable holiday spirit.  Who wants to say "There is no Santa Claus" this time of the year?  The reviewer also pointed out that the 28-year old conductor Ticciati is one of the youngest to debut at the Met.

Metropolitan Opera – Gounod’s Faust. December 20, 2011.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Family Circle D208 ($37.50).

Story.  The aging scientist Faust makes a deal with the devil Mephistopheles to recapture his youth in return for having Mephistopheles as his master in the world below; this after Faust sees the image of Marguerite conjured up by Mephistopheles.  While Valentin, Marguerite’s brother, and Wagner are preparing to go to war, Mephistopheles shows up and predicts the death of Wagner in battle, of Valentin by someone close to Mephistopheles; and that any flowers Siebel picks up will wither.  Mephistopheles then brings Faust to see Marguerite.  Siebel gathers flowers for Marguerite and they wither, holy water however restores them.  After leaving a box full of jewels for Marguerite, Mephistopheles helps Faust to seduce her, and she becomes pregnant.  When Valentin returns from battle, he fights with Faust and is killed, with Marguerite watching.  Marguerite kills her baby and is condemned to death.  Faust and Mephistopheles go to the prison to see Marguerite who dies.  Faust and Mephistopheles go down to the underworld but Marguerite is saved.

Conductor – Yannick Nezet-Seguin; Faust – Jonas Kaufmann, Marguerite – Marina Poplavskaya, Mephistopheles – Rene Pape, Wagner – Jonathan Beyer, Valentin – Russel Braun, Siebel – Michele Losier, Marthe – Theodora Hanslowe.

I heard the ending of this opera when listening to WQXR’s opera broadcast.  The announcer gave a very vivid description of the ending where Faust and Mephistopheles descended t hell and Marguerite climbed up a staircase.  She also talked about the people in lab coats becoming angels during the last scene.  When I read the New YorkTimes review, I was less impressed.  The review wasn’t all that positive, and the setting was between world wars when Faust was a scientist developing a nuclear bomb.  Eventually curiosity got the better part of us, and reasonable good seats in the Family Circle were available.

Jonas Kaufmann must be the tenor-du-jour for the Met this year (or is it tenor-du-annee?), there is no escape if you pick up a recent copy of the Playbill, and his picture is plastered all over inside and outside Lincoln Center.  This is also a reason I wanted to see this opera.  I remember a similar situation with Dudamel the conductor, in that case I was quite impressed with him.  Alas, that is not the case here.  His voice for the most part did not carry well into the rear of the opera.  Sometimes this could be attributed to the acoustics of the specific seat; but every now and then he would do okay, and many others' voices came through clearly.  To be charitable, perhaps tonight he was a bit (or way) off.

Rene Pape is a dependable bass and did quite okay.  There are quite a few grotesque figures in the opera, so there was no intention of white-washing the evilness of Satan; yet Pape didn’t sound or look menacing at all.  One can go overboard trying to play the bad guy, but it is a greater failure if the audience doesn’t feel the slightest bit of disgust at the devil’s deviousness, as was the case tonight.

I enjoyed Marguerite’s voice.  As with Pape, her acting did not elicit the expected emotion.  Her role is someone caught up in other people’s actions and had no escape except for the final redemption scene.  I felt no pity, no horror, and no relief when she in turn was abandoned by Faust, killed her baby, and ascended to heaven.

Siebel, a young pupil of Faust, was sung by a mezzo-soprano.  Not having read the Synopsis carefully before the show, I actually thought for a long time he was Marguerite, and got very confused when Marguerite first appeared.  This tradition of having a young man’s singing to be done by a woman continues to confuse me to no end.

The staging works well for the scenes called for in the opera.  The spiral staircase and walkway on either side of the stage provide a natural place for singers to linger and observe, and for the chorus to congregate.  Beyond that it does not make much sense.  When one hears of “nuclear bomb laboratory” and “Faust” one might think the bargain with the devil is to create this weapon of mass destruction.  If this is indeed the intention, the director and set designer fail spectacularly: there is amusement and puzzlement, but no horror.  If this is not the intention, they what the heck …  I really felt cheated when the “ascension” scene came along – Marguerite simply walked up a stair case, complete with landings at the turns.  The WQXR narrative made it so mesmerizing, but it was just someone in a haggard dress climbing up to the catwalk.  The few “magic tricks” (e.g., withering roses or how Marguerite transformed from being pregnant to holding a baby in her arms) were unnecessary.

The music is generally pleasant, which may not be the adjective you want associated with Faust.  This opera when it first came out was extremely popular.  Indeed what we saw was the 740^th performance by the Met.  We also heard it in French, evidently versions in other languages exist.

For me, anyway, the comparison of this with Berlioz’s Damnation of Faust is unavoidable.  The latter was not composed for the opera but I thought the Met did a good job with it.  It is interesting to note that Gounod’s work premiered in 1859 while Berlioz wrote his in 1846.  I wonder if there was any rivalry between the two composers at that time; there was no reference of it in the Playbill.

I just reread the New York Times review.  The reviewer is very positive on the singers, while I am not.  For me, how good an opera is starts and ends with the musical performance, the rest is gravy.