New Jersey Symphony Orchestra – Xian Zhang, conductor; Eric Wyrick, violin; Jonathan Spitz, cello. May 2, 2015.

Prudential Hall at NJPAC, Newark.  Orchestra Tier G (Seat B106, $37.)

Program

Concerto in A Minor for Violin and Cello, Op. 102 (1887) by Brahms (1833-1897).

Serenade for Winds in E-flat Major, Op. 7 (1881) by R. Strauss (1864-1949).

Symphony No. 39 in E-flat Major, K. 543 (1788) by Mozart (1756-1791).

The one time we saw Zhang conduct was in November 2007, during her tenure as New York Philharmonic’s associate conductor.  She left New York Philharmonic around the time Alan Gilbert took over from Lorin Maazel (perhaps the two events are related,) and I have not kept up with her career since.  Per the Program Notes, she has been the music director of Orchestra Sinfonica di Milan Giuseppe Verdi since 2009.  She is billed as an NJSO “favorite” in the publicity literature of the organization.

In any case, I remember I liked that 2007 concert, so that must have been one of the reasons I bought tonight’s tickets.  That the tickets were offered at 50% discount also helped.  Indeed we got very good seats for the price we paid.

I have some, but not a lot of, familiarity with the Brahms double concerto.  Wyrick and Spitz are the concertmaster and principal cello of NJSO respectively, and it is good that they got a chance to be the headline soloists (co-soloists?).  The two gentlemen gave a competent performance.  Balance with each other and the orchestra was good; the sound was good; intonation was near perfect; the technically challenging passages were handled well; and the orchestra played with precision, coming into the foreground and receding into a support role deftly.  What the performance lacked was the level of excitement Brahms usually generates (I am thinking of his concertos, symphonies, and sonatas.)

The three movements are Allegro, Andante, and Vivace non troppo.  It is interesting to note that this was Brahms’ last orchestral work.

Perhaps some of the flatness can be blamed on the concert hall.  It is huge, and not with the greatest of acoustics.  A few years ago we visited Tonhalle in Zurich, which seats perhaps 1500 people (compared to 2800 here), and has excellent acoustics.  Why do I mention that again?  Brahms was the one who led the first concert in Tonhalle when it opened in 1895, so perhaps he wrote music that works best in a more intimate venue?  Of course his other works can sound great in these large modern concert halls also.  [How’s that for taking many sides of the same issue?]

After the break, Zhang took up the microphone to talk briefly about the Strauss piece.  He wrote that at age 17 (no typo).  Although Strauss was a violin player, his father Franz played the horn, and was very good at it.  That may explain why at that young age he knew enough about the different wind instruments to make the best use out of them.  Zhang mentioned that the middle section has four horns playing a chorale, accompanied by the bassoon, and asked the audience to envision the pride Franz must have felt when he either read or played the music.  It was a nice short piece (11 minutes) and could also serve to introduce the different wind instruments to someone new to classical music (echoes of Young Person’s Guide still in my head, evidently.)  I am still not sure if the French horn is woodwind or brass, or both.

The problem with raising expectations is it makes those expectations difficult to fulfill.  We were listening for this horn chorale intently, and cringed when we heard it as the instruments sounded unsteady.  Perhaps it is the difficult nature of the passage, perhaps the players were nervous, or perhaps we expected perfection; whatever the cause, it was a bit of a letdown.  To be fair, the passage actually sounded fine generally.

Mozart’s 39^th symphony is the first of his last trilogy of symphonies, autographed within a span of six weeks.  Even though the Program Notes calls this the “forgotten member” of the trilogy, it is familiar enough.  In this case Zhang led a joyful and brilliant rendition of a delightful composition, having a lot of fun herself in the process, no doubt.  The audience thoroughly enjoyed it, if the applause afterwards was any indication.  I certainly did.

The 25 minute symphony has four movements: Adagio-Allegro, Andante con moto; Menuetto: Allegretto, and Allegro.

I remember Zhang as very energetic in the 2007 performance, jumping all over the podium.  Tonight she was also quite energetic, but managed to stay on the podium most of the time.  While she is no doubt a competent conductor, I wonder if she will get an opportunity to have a breakthrough and get into the company of great masters.

Metropolitan Opera – Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana and Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci. April 29, 2015.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center, Balcony (Seat C120, $121.50).

Story.  Cavalleria Rusticana.  While Turiddu is off to war, his love Lola marries Alfio.  Turiddu returns and lives with Santuzza, resulting in her being rejected by the church.  When Turiddu rekindles his passion with Lola, the jealous Santuzza tells Alfio about his wife’s infidelity.  When Alfio sees Turiddu, he challenges him to a duel.  Turridu accepts and is killed. 

Story.  Pagliacci.  Canio and Nedda are leaders of a theatrical company.  The clown Tonio’s advances are rejected by Nedda, who is in love with Silvio instead.  The two’s plan to run away is overheard by Tonio, who in turns alerts Canio.  At sundown, the villagers gather to watch the performance of Columbine, played by Nedda, and her husband Pagliaccio, played by Canio.  The comedy proceeds along well until Canio snaps and kills Nedda and Silvio as he rushes to her aid.

Cavalleria Rusticana.  Conductor – Fabio Luisi; Turiddu – Marcelo Alvarez, Santuzza – Eva-Maria Westbroek, Mamma Lucia – Jane Bunnell, Alfio – George Gagnidze, Lola – Ginger Costa-Jackson. 

Pagliacci.  Conductor – Fabio Luisi; Tonio – George Gagnidze, Canio – Marcelo Alvarez, Beppe – Andrew Stenson, Nedda – Patricia Racette, Silvio – Lucas Meachem.

Both Anne and I are quite sure we have seen this combination a couple of times.  Once at the Met, and once at the NYC Opera (the latter we are a bit hazy about.)  Since I can’t find any entry in this blog, that would mean we saw it before my blogging days.  The most memorable number from Cavalleria is the intermezzo, and the one from Pagliacci is the aria “Vesti la giubba.”  I have some memories of the story (especially Pagliacci as our high school orchestra played a few excerpts.)  While none of these factors is compelling enough for us, we kept this performance because we simply ran out of exchange options, and that this is a new production.

It was a good thing we did.  We certainly enjoyed the program.  What I am most pleased is learning (or perhaps re-learning) many aspects of the operas.

Whenever there is a new production, one can always find a writeup in the Playbill.  In most instances the writers seem to make a big deal out of them.  Sometimes the enthusiasm is justified, but oftentimes not.  This production is one that doesn’t justify the level of excitement.  The good news is that they work.  The constant is provided by the walls in the background.  For Cavalleria the space is used as the courtyard outside a church, for Pagliacci it is the outdoor space where the traveling theater sits.  Pagliacci is placed in 1949, so there are electric pole and street lights, and the theater rides on a truck.  The other constant is the constant movement of chairs, variously to represent the inside of a church and seating for the show.  What I don’t understand is the circular arrangement at the beginning of Cavalleria.  It makes for an interesting sight.  So the sets work, but not spectacularly so.

People either get married or die at the end of an opera (most operas, anyway), and in this case we have deaths in both instances, and they were caused by jealousy.  The Playbill does point out the ritualistic aspects of Cavalleria compared to the more chaotic settings of a traveling troupe.  One shouldn’t read too much into this though: the two works were written independently.  It was the Met that first put them together in one evening, but I suspect it was done more for expedient reasons that for the intellectual musings that ensue.

I am quite sure I have not seen one particular opera more than the other, so it puzzles me when I discover I am much more familiar with the music in Cavalleria than I am with Pagliacci (and I was exposed to the latter while in high school.)  The Met orchestra did a great job with the music and the audience showed its appreciation, the music’s relative simplicity notwithstanding.  With Pagliacci the familiar tune has about a 25-note segment that defines the opera, and interestingly that is enough to hold the audience (well, the drama and other musical numbers help.)

The singing is fine.  We had seen Eva-Maria Westbroek before as Sieglinde in Die Walkure, and she did well. Patricia Racette as Nedda also sang well.  I thought it took a lot of courage for her to dress up as Columbine; Anne thought she pulled it off.  The singer in the role of Beppe looked Asian but has a non-Asian last name; I checked the Met website, it was indeed Stenson.  Marcelo Alvarez sang both lead roles, but I thought his voice weakened in the course of the evening.  Gagnidze also sang in both operas.  Also, at the beginning of Pagliacci Tonio stands in front of a curtain and does a rather long introduction; perhaps they should make the curtain a solid one so his voice could come across better?  As it was, he had to work very hard to get himself heard.

Overall this was a good experience, not earth-shattering, but much more enjoyable than I expected.  It also confirms that seeing something again would lead to new understanding and insight into the work, although at $100 a ticket an expensive proposition.

The New York Times review is generally positive.  The reviewer’s major complaint is the overuse of the rotating platform.  His take on the circle of chairs at the beginning of Cavalleria?  That in the small village everyone sees other people’s business.  Not bad.

We went up to Jersey City in the afternoon to pick up Reid to see a doctor; he had an overreaction to insect bites he got while we were in Turks and Caicos.  Anne and I had takeout from Five Guys before we drove into the city.  Traffic nowadays is more congested: signs of impending summer.

BBC Concert Orchestra – Keith Lockhart, conductor; Charlie Albright, piano. April 26, 2015.

NJ State Theatre, Orchestra (Seat K6, $15).

Program

Le Tombeau de Couperin (1914-17, orch. 1919) by Ravel (1875-1937).

Piano Concerto in G Major (1929-31) by Ravel.

March “Crown Imperial” (1937, rev. 1953, edited Vilem Tausky) by William Walton (1902-83).

Norfolk Rhapsody No. 1 (1905-6, rev. 1914) by Vaughan William (1872-1958).

The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra – variations and fugue on a theme of Henry Purcell, Op. 34 (1945) by Britten (1913-76).

Amazon Local had tickets on sale for $15 each, which was just too good a bargain to pass up, even though that meant a third concert in three days.  Lockhart is well-known for leading the Boston Pops Orchestra, it turns out he is also the principal conductor for this BBC Concert Orchestra.  BBC has many different ensembles, I have no idea where this ranks in terms of prestige, other than it’s not being a “full” orchestra.  The orchestra managed to fill the entire stage, though.

I remember listening to Le Tombeau de Couperin a while ago, but don’t remember much of it.  Ostensibly written as a tribute to fallen soldiers of WWI, and in the style of Couperin, the Program Notes says there is not much to either the memorial aspect or Couperin (to the latter point, it is French music in general.)  I certainly didn’t hear much sadness in the music, which in general was quite enjoyable.  Looking back at my earlier blog entry (way back in 2007, New York Philharmonic conducted by Salonen), I had similar feelings then.

The four movements are (i) Prelude: Vif [Lively]; (ii) Forlane: Allegretto; (iii) Menuet: Allegro moderato; and (iv) Rigaudon: Assez vif [Fairly lively].

Also going over my blog, I have heard Ravel’s piano concerto quite a few times the last few years, most recently last month.  Perhaps these soloists have a herd mentality, or perhaps I should start to study the piece seriously?  Charlie Albright is a young fellow who is evidently gifted academically and musically, graduating from a Junior College while in high school, and eventually getting degrees from Harvard and New England Conservatory.  He plays with a lot of flourish (some not necessary, in my judgment), too bad the acoustics is such that I often couldn’t hear him.  The passages I heard were impressive though.

This was the final concert by the BBC Concert Orchestra for this US tour, 14 in 21 days (not sure I remember the numbers right.)  Must be exhilarating for a young person starting out his career.

In case there was any worry that the first part of the program was a bit too high-browed, and non-British (we are talking about Keith Lockhart and a BBC orchestra,) the second half’s pieces were in the pops category and works by British composers.  Per Lockhart, three of his four favorite modern British composers.  He also shed a bit of light on the pieces we were about to hear.

The “Crown Imperial” March was written for the occasion of Edward VIII’s coronation.  It was performed for George VI instead, as Edward VIII abdicated to marry the American divorcee Wallis Simpson.  The piece was also performed on multiple royal occasions, including the recent marriage of Prince William to Kate Middleton in 2011.  One is to be excused if this is confused with Edgar’s Pomp and Circumstance.

Vaughan Williams wrote three Norfolk Rhapsodies but withdrew two of them, so there is now only one.  The tunes were collected during his visit and, together with his memory of the landscape, formed the basis of the work.  I do not know the tunes, but the piece sounded nice.

Britten’s Young Person’s Guide and Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf are both well-known pieces ostensibly for introducing children to the orchestra.  The latter is much better known (we just heard it on the way back from New York yesterday – Wednesday.)  Britten’s piece is similar in purpose, and does it with a theme, 13 variations (labeled with letters), and a fugue.

The ensemble played two additional encore pieces.  The first one took care of Lockhart's other favorite composer: Salut d'Armour by Elgar, a delightfully light-hearted piece.  I didn't get the name of the second one.

I wonder about the state of classical music in New Jersey.   Today’s performance was of high caliber, yet attendance was quite poor.  It’s the theme with many of the concerts we have been to.  I suppose a lot of people who want to follow a great orchestra will go with New York Philharmonic, and both Lincoln Center and Carnegie Hall get world-class artists to perform on their stages.  Is there anything New Jersey can do to attract people from out of town?  Perhaps bus rides to get people from the city to the venues?

New Jersey Symphony Orchestra – Christoph Konig, conductor; Stefan Jackiw, violin. April 25, 2015.

Count Basie Theatre, Red Bank, NJ.  Rear Balcony (Seat E20, $37.)

Program

The Veil of Pierrette, Op. 18 (1908-09) by Ernst von Dohnanyi (1877-1960).

Romance in F minor for violin and orchestra, Op. 11 (1873-77) by Dvorak (1841-1904).

Tzigane (1922-24) by Ravel (1875-1937).

Symphony No. 5 in F major, Op. 76 (1875, rev. 1887) by Dvorak.

When I saw Dohnanyi as the composer on tonight’s program, I naturally wondered if it was Christoph whom I know as a conductor.  Then I saw the first name, so I thought it must be the father.  The Wikipedia entry clears it up: Ernst is the grandfather of Christoph.  So a family with a long musical tradition.

“A dark tale of infidelity and poisoning, with a powerful mad scene” is how the Program describes this piece.  The plot is about Pierrette’s unfaithfulness to her lover the painter Pierrot.  She abandons him for the wealthy Harlequin.  Consumed by guilt, she goes back to Pierrot and the two make a suicide pact.  Pierrot dies, she survives because she is too frightened to take the poison.  She goes back to the wedding, but forgets her veil.  Pierrot’s ghost returns it to her, and Harlequin finds out about her infidelity.  She breaks down completely and dies.  Dohnanyi told the story with five movements that add up to about 25 minutes: (1) Pierrot’s Complaint of Love; (2) Walzer-Reigen (Waltz Round Dance); (3) Lustiger Trauermarsch (Jolly Funeral March); (4) Hochzeitswaltzer (Wedding Waltz); and (5) Pierettens Wahnsinnstanz (Pierrette’s Dance of Madness.)

The music was quite pleasant, and followed pretty much the description in the Program.  However, the fourth movement flourish ending was such that many in the audience, thinking that it was the end, started to applaud.  Instead of showing annoyance, Konig turned around, picked up the microphone, and explained that the ending was unfortunately tragic.  I was a bit disappointed that the promised madness wasn’t all there, though.

Before the concert began, the assistant principal violist Elzbieta Weyman talked about the violin soloist Stefan Jackiw.  They were in the same youth orchestra, and basically Jackiw’s playing convinced her she should opt for the viola instead.

Jackiw is young (mid 20s?), tall, and thin.  A graduate of Harvard, and an Avery Fisher Career Grant recipient, he has performed with several major orchestras already.

Romances are melodic pieces that are typically quite short, so they don’t get programmed very much in live concerts.  Dvorak’s is no exception, although there are several passages that can be called virtuoso.  It was a good performance, but I was left with two thoughts: his stance reminds me of the violin player in Fiddler on the Roof, and he needs a better violin.  The first remark refers to how he keeps his legs apart, and often arches forward; as to the second remark, his violin certainly has the volume (helped no doubt by a small auditorium), but doesn’t have the brightness of a Strad or the warmth of a Guarnerius.

My first encounter with Tzigane was in Alice Tully Hall with Vadim Repin a few years back.  Even though he botched it quite terribly, I still enjoyed it, thinking that the piece was close to unplayable anyway.

The piece started with a long and difficult violin solo; you could hear the collective breath of the audience when the orchestra came in.  I must say technically Jackiw did a much better job, and Tzigane is for all purposes a show piece anyway.  Zigeunerweisen by Sarasate is the other “gypsy” air that comes to mind.  While (probably) less demanding technically, Sarasate’s piece certainly is more entertaining: you get to enjoy the tunes while on the edge of your seat.  With Ravel it is all about the edge of your seat.

Clearly there are few technical challenges that Jackiw cannot meet, it would be interesting to see how he grows as a musician.  He lives in New York City, so I imagine there will be opportunities to see him again.

After the intermission, Konig again talked to the audience, saying this time we will have a traditional program, and joked that a good time to nap would be the slow second movement.  It turned out to be advice some would take to heart.  Brahms famously was reluctant to write symphonies because he heard “the footsteps of a giant.”  Evidently Dvorak wasn’t intimidated by Beethoven at all, since his first was published in 1865 (the fifth ten years later.)  Of course a musicologist might explain how German and Eastern European schools evolved overtime, the point is I didn’t hear much grandness in it.  Not having a good ear for Bohemian melodies, I didn’t catch how Dvorak wove them into the narrative.  I do agree there are some “pastoral” elements in the work (there, reference to Beethoven in the Program,) and enjoyed the large scale fourth movement (Finale: Allegro molto.)  The other three movements are (i) Allegro ma non troppo; (ii) Andante con moto; and (iii) Scherzo: Allegro scherzando.

Konig is a young German conductor.  In the past I have always complained that the NJSO does poorly under a guest conductor.  Though not inspiring, tonight I thought they did okay.

The was the last of the 5-concert NJSO classical series in Red Bank.  I was disappointed at the number of empty seats in the concert hall.  In any case, NJSO has a sale on for next season, and I bought the one for Red Bank.

Metropolitan Opera – Lehar’s The Merry Widow. April 24, 2015.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center, Balcony (Seat C115, $121.50).

Story.  The (fictitious) country Pontevedro is about to go broke, and Baron Zeta wants to ensure the new rich widow Hanna Glawari will stay in the country instead of moving to Paris.  To do so, he elicits the help of various Pontevedrians to court Glawari, among whom is her former lover Danilo.  Additional comedic elements in the plot are (i) the love affair between Camille – a Frenchman – and Zeta’s wife Valencienne, (ii) a fan of Valencienne’s with words “I love you” and “I am a respectable wife” written on it, and (iii) Danilo’s aide Njegus, who often lets the wrong words slip out.  Glawari actually loves Danilo and would marry him if he only would say “I love you” to her. Upon finding out from the fan that his wife is unfaithful, Zeta divorces her and proposes to Glawari.  She tells him her late husband will has a stipulation that she won’t get the inheritance if she remarries.  Upon hearing that, everyone loses interest.  When Danilo then declares his love, Glawari adds the inheritance will actually go to her new husband.  Valencienne shows Zeta the other words on the fan and they reconcile.

Conductor – Fabio Luisi; Baron Zeta – Alan Opie, Valencienne – Adriana Chuchman, Camille – Stephen Costello, Njegus – Carson Elrod, Hanna Glawari – Susan Graham, Count Danilo – Rod Gilfry.

I am quite sure when I got this as part of my season subscription, Renee Fleming was going to be in the cast.  A ticket exchange later, the performance we saw had Susan Graham in the cast.  We heard Graham before as Dido in Les Troyens and as Marguerite in La Damnation de Faust, and enjoyed the two performances.

The Playbill describes this as an operetta and a precursor of the Broadway genre, and I am quite sure the remarks are meant as compliments.  Indeed Susan Stroman, a Broadway veteran, was brought is as the director and choreographer.  Also, both Julian Crouch (set designer) and William Ivey Long (costume) have strong Broadway credentials.

The sets are elaborate enough.  The word that keeps coming to mind, however, is symmetry, particularly for Act I (The Ponteverdrian Embassy in Paris) and Act III (Chez Maxim.)  To a lesser extent it applies to Act II (a garden); there, except for a silhouette of Sacre Couer, the image evoked is the garden scene in The Sound of Music.  I must give credit to how smoothly the sets transitions from Act II to Act III.  How the sets look isn’t a big deal for me, although I thought with an equivalent budget they should be able to do better.

Curtain Call with Chez Maxim set.  "Symmetry" is the word that comes to mind.

I can’t decide whether there is more spoken dialog than singing – it certainly felt that way.  That is particularly true with Act I.  There are stretches that I thought I was watching a play, and the orchestra members simply sat there, and Luisi actually had his arms crossed.  Opera singers know how to project their singing voices, but I am not sure they can use the same technique for spoken dialog.  Indeed I had a lot of trouble, and my seat was such the brightness of the stage interferes with the close caption panel.  The tunes are nice, and a couple quite familiar, including the popular“Merry Widow Waltz.”  A particular nice aria is “The Vilja Song” sung by Glawari; as a story told by her it is not quite germane to the main plot.

The singing was generally okay.  Gilfry as Danilo sang adequately, but his voice doesn’t have the richness of a top-tier tenor.  Chuchman as Valencienne did very well.  I thought Susan Graham was a mezzo-soprano (indeed labeled as such in Playbill), so was wondering how she would do, or if they would lower the pitch for her.  I couldn’t tell if the musical signatures were changed, but she certainly seemed to get to some of the very high notes without problem.  I don’t know how Renee Fleming would have done, but I thought Graham did very well.  Alas, that applies to the first two acts only, perhaps up to The Vilja Song, where her voice soared above the orchestra, and her whisper effortlessly lifted to the balcony.  Towards the end her voice was difficult to pick up; the folks next to us also agreed she lost her voice.  Which is too bad, though not as bad as Don Carlo where I thought they should have taken Lee out after the first act.

The orchestra did a great job.  In addition to the pleasant overture, I also enjoyed the solo instruments – especially the violin – that accompanied some of the songs.

For some reason the libretto is often translated from its original German into English for this opera.  And the Met uses a translated done by Jeremy Sams.  I don’t know how the opera would sound in German, but in English – with the rather coerced rhyming – it sounded sappy a lot of times.

This, together with the dialog, the costumes, the choreography, all contributed to my feeling that this is more like a Broadway show than an opera.  Nothing wrong with that, except that I can go to Broadway and watch a show that meets my expectations.

The New YorkTimes review praises some aspects of the performance (Andrew Davis as the conductor, and the choreography) but overall pans the show.  The reviewer also suggests operettas with much spoken dialog don’t quite work at the Met (he used the clever title “Talking (and Talking) About Love.”)  Microphones were used for the dialog, and may explain why I heard some of it – still not good enough though.  He also pointed out that Davis composed some music that was played off-stage on a piano during some of the dialog; no wonder we couldn’t find the piano in the pit.

We left NJ early enough to get into the city.  However, a problem on the Turnpike wreaked havoc on traffic leaving New York, which in turn meant a lot of congestion in Manhattan.  I had to drive on the opposite lane on 57^th (following other cars) to turn onto 11^th Ave.  I managed to find a place to park on Amsterdam (also congested); Anne got off earlier to buy dinner from a street vendor.

The return was straight-forward, we stopped at a Turnpike Rest Area for a quick snack before going home.

Metropolitan Opera – Verdi’s Don Carlo. April 15, 2015.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center, Orchestra (Seat Z22, $25.)

Story.  Elisabeth, daughter of king of France, is betrothed to Don Carlo, son of King Philip II of Spain.  However, to seal a peace treaty between the two countries, the French king decides to have Elisabeth marry Philip instead.  Meanwhile, Rodrigo, a good friend of Don Carlo, asks Carlo to ask Philip to make Carlo the governor of Flanders, hoping that this will lessen the oppression of the Flemish.  The king refuses, and Carlos is hauled off to jail.  While visiting Carlos in prison, Rodrigo, who has taken up the blame of the Flemish rebellion, is shot on order of the Grand Inquisitor.  As Carlo and Elisabeth then meet at the St. Just Monastery to express hope for happiness in the next world, Philip and the Grand Inquisitor show up to arrest them.  The story ends with the ghost of Charles V (Philip’s father) showing up.

Interwoven in the main story (as I see it) are two more major elements.  The first is a second love triangle where Princess Eboli is in love with Carlo.  Rejected by Carlo, she informs Philip that Elisabeth keeps a portrait of Carlo in her jewel box.  Another element is the persecution of heretics during the inquisition.

Conductor – Yannick Nezet-Seguin; Don Carlo – Yonghoon Lee/Ricardo Tamura, Elisabeth – Lianna Haroutounian, Rodrigo – Luca Salsi, Philip II – Ferruccio Furlanetto, Princess Eboli – Nadia Krasteva, Grand Inquisitor – James Morris.

CS asked us if we wanted to try to get rush tickets for this performance.  This was my first foray into trying to do so, and I am happy to report that we were successful.  More on that later.

A few words about the story as I put it together is in order.  The overall plot is easy enough to follow, if one has some sense of the historical context.  I couldn’t quite incorporate all the subplots (two love triangles, the Inquisition, the political landscape, and the shadow of Charles V) into one “straightline.”  There are still some parts that I don’t understand: where Rodrigo’s loyalty lies, what happens to Carlo and Elisabeth at the end, are two examples.  Per Wikipedia, Carlo was actually mentally unstable, and died six months after being imprisoned by Philip, Elisabeth married Philip when she was 14, and there is no reference to any romance between Elisabeth and Carlo.

I happened across the Opera Philadelphia website earlier today, it contains what I would consider an excellent description of the story (calling it a “synopsis,” as the website does, may be incorrect as it is not a condensed version of the “play-by-play” story.)

There was a small slip in the Playbill that says Lee will replace Tamura as Don Carlo for today’s show. Since I had not heard either of them before, I had not preference.  Before the performance began, a gentleman came on stage and asked for the audience’s understanding as Lee was just recovering from a cold.  The opera started with first a monologue and then a duet by Lee, and my reaction was “wow, if this is how the guy sounds like when he is not well, I can’t imagine how good he would be if he is healthy.”  As the first part (Acts 1 and 2) came to a close, I began to notice his voice was fading – and I am an amateur when it comes to the voice.  I told Anne during the intermission that they should for his sake take him out; I couldn’t imagine continuing would be good for his voice.  He continued with Act 3, and he was really struggling, with his voice drowning out by his co-stars and the orchestra constantly.  Sure enough, after the second intermission, it was announced that Lee couldn’t continue and would be replaced by a singer’s name I didn’t get. I was admiring the depth of Met’s roster when I neighbor told me she heard it was Tamura who was scheduled to sing.  She may well be right, but then I am disappointed at how he did, he wasn’t as clear in the singing, and not as convincing in the acting.  Surprisingly, all this didn’t quite detract from the flow of the opera, or my enjoyment of it.  Of course I am left to wonder what a “flawless” performance by Lee would have been like.

While the Armenian soprano Haroutounian would never be mistaken for a 14-year old, she was a credible Elisabeth.  I was particularly impressed with Furlanetto as King Philip, his bass voice has such a heft befitting the role.  If I may be again so bold as to compare singer, he reminds me of James Morris who played the role of the Grand Inquisitor this evening.  We heard James Morris as Hans Sachs in Die Meistersinger recently, there he put in a command performance, here is role is better characterized as a cameo appearance.

I am writing part of this review while in Providentiales, Turks and Caicos, so some details may escape me as I don’t have Playbill with me.  Although the sets are quite new – debuting a couple of years ago – they are quite traditional in appearance.  A gate is a gate, for example.  They are also cleverly designed.  Even though some props were huge, there was little interruption – if any – between scenery changes.  Most scenes closed with a curtain coming down with Carlo left exposed on stage.  I don’t get the message behind it.

This opera is considered one of Verdi’s most ambitious works, and contains many nice musical numbers.  However, the subject matter is so grim that few of them have found their way into the popular repertoire.  For instance, “Auto-da-fe” is a powerful chorus number, but which chorus will reprise a song that is associated with the public parade and burning of condemned heretics?  The only happy moments are to be found at the beginning of the opera wherein Carlo and Elisabeth declare their love for one another.  The other fact is the opera premiered in Paris, in French.

One more thing.  Opera Philadelphia’s production also boasts famous singers such as Michelle De Young and Eric Owens.  The performance is 3 hours 7 minutes, with a 20 minute break.  So the performers have better stamina, and they have more bathroom facilities.

This is the second time we sat in the Orchestra section, and the voices were all clearly heard (with Lee’s problems noted.)  However, I found to my disappointment that the orchestra sounded a lot more muffled in our seats.  Here we could see the conductor, but no one else.  I was so looking forward to the orchestra music, as the Playbill describes it as a foundation that allows the vocal parts to “go crazy.”

It was very late when we were done, and I drove CS’s car back to New Jersey.  I am glad I got a chance to see this, and cost is only a small part of the equation.  The New York Times review is glowing, especially in the way the review describes how well the conductor and the orchestra did.  He had a lot of praise for Lee, and also points out that Furlanetto is 64, younger than Morris by only a few years.

Metropolitan Opera – Verdi’s Ernani. April 8, 2015.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center, Balcony (Seat C105, $104.50).

Story.  See previous blog.  The “… demands the life that has been promised to him” at the end of the synopsis leaves open the possibility that no one dies.  Nonetheless we have the same ending, Ernani kills himself, and Elvira follows suit.

Conductor – Paul Nadler; Ernani – Luc Robert, Elvira – Angela Meade, Don Carlo – Placido Domingo, Don de Silva – Dmitry Belosselskiy.

When we first got tickets of this opera as part of our season subscription, I was going to swap the tickets for another opera.  We saw this a few years ago (in 2012) and while I was impressed with my first encounter of Angela Meade, the overall experience wasn’t so overwhelming that I wanted to see it again.  I was then told Domingo would be in the cast also, and decided to keep the tickets.  In fact I thought Levine was going to be the conductor, but that might have been for some selected performances.

In any case, I wanted this opera to “succeed” for several reasons.  One was that CS told me the New York Times review wasn’t all that great, panning both Domingo and (if I remember correctly) Levine.  The other was I was impressed with how Domingo did in La Traviata as Germont, and would like to see him continue that with this role.  I came away feeling just okay, which means some level of disappointment.

Let’s start with Domingo first.  His voice was the weakest among the principals in the cast, even allowing for my usual problems with picking out frequencies in the tenor-baritone range.  Even with having sung over 140 different roles in his career, this was the first time he did this particular one, and he was wooden in the delivery most of the time, and (I think) had to constantly refer to the prompter.  As an indication of how good things could have been, he delivered a great soliloquy at the beginning of Act III, it is too bad that was the exception rather than the rule tonight.  Of course if you account for his age (74), it would be very impressive; I am sure he would be the first to say age shouldn’t be a mitigating factor.  We also noticed that he couldn’t quite bow during curtain calls, so he might have some problems with movement.  (He had no problems walking up and down the staircases, though.)  As a side remark, he is conducting the current production of Aida at the Met.

Angela Meade again sang impressively as Elvira.  I didn’t notice any of the misgivings I had last time (harshness, trills.)  Perhaps it is where we were seated, or perhaps even great singers work to improve their technique.  I was also impressed with how powerful she sounded with the lower register notes.  There is no need for additional remarks on her considerable size, except it is amazing she could move about as much as she did.

The other two suitors put in great performances.  The Playbill mentions three voices are vying for Elvira: tenor, baritone, and bass.  I am not sure I agree with the writer’s remark that the chorus is used sparingly: I thought they sang a lot in the opera.  And they did well tonight.

The set is the same used in the run we saw.

The Financial Times review isn’t the most complimentary, saying that Levine’s conducting is the one good thing in the three elements required to make Ernani successful: a stellar set of principals, an inventive director, and an inspired conductor.  The New York Times review is indeed brutal, suggesting it is time for Domingo to retire.  The reviewer does have a great analysis of the problems with Domingo’s performance, such as “he often seemed preoccupied with the techniques of singing.”  The harshest review I found is the Observer piece with the headline “Domingo Bombs as Baritone.”  A much friendlier review is from the Latin Post.

Joshua Bell in Recital. Sam Haywood, piano. March 28, 2015.

State Theatre, New Brunswick, NJ.  Balcony (Seat P107, $19.)

Program

Sonata No. 4 in A minor, Op. 23 by Beethoven (1770-1827).

Sonata No. 1 in F Major, Op. 8 by Grieg (1843-1907).

Sonata No.1 in G Major, Op. 78 by Brahms (1833-1897).

Rhapsody No. 1, Sz. 87 by Bartok (1881-1945).

We bought these tickets via Amazon Local, at $19 each, nothing could possibly go wrong.  And nothing did.  Actually this turned out to be a very enjoyable event, even though our seats, at about 110 feet away per the theatre’s seating chart, were a bit far from the stage.  When we picked up at “will call,” we were actually offered upgraded seats for $15 each but decided against it.  I would gladly have paid $34 per seat if they had been available at the time of purchase; strange, this human psychology.  In any case, I am glad the hall was reasonably full.

By the large Bell produced a very pleasant sound, and his cooperation with the pianist was excellent.  As a violin student, I played several of Beethoven’s violin sonatas and worked hard at the Brahms sonata for an examination.  My teacher decided to skip over Beethoven’s fourth, so it was a fresh piece.  Per the Program Notes, Grieg’s sonata is rarely performed nowadays.  I really enjoyed it, and wonder what moved artists away from the piece – it sounded elegant, reasonably complex, and pleasant.

The Bartok Rhapsody was the most technically challenging piece.  The two movements lassu (slow) and friss (fast) are based on Hungarian folk tunes.  However, here Bell and Haywood may have met their match technically; I was so worried about their making the notes that I didn’t catch much of the melodies the piece is based on.  This reminds me of the Repin recital where he had trouble with Ravel’s Tzigane.

During my final year of high school I took a certificate exam offered by the Trinity School of Music.  I spent countless hours on the Brahms sonata which was on the syllabus, and (glad to report) passed.  Of course I listened to multiple recordings of the piece, and eventually formed an opinion on how it should be performed.  Bell didn’t quite do the piece the way I did, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.  (Disclaimer: that was more than 40 years ago, and I can’t play it the way I did.)

A violin sonata is supposed to be a co-operation between the violin and the piano.  My experience with Beethoven and Brahms is indeed they are.  Not today, not most of the time anyway.  Bell just dominated the show, which somewhat detracted from the musical aspects of the program.  I didn’t mind; I don’t think much of the audience did either.  This audience also couldn’t help itself from applauding after each movement.

For completeness, here are the movements of the different sonatas: Beethoven – Presto; Andante scherzoso, piu Allegretto; Allegro molto; Grieg – Allegro con brio; Allegretto quasi andantino; Allegro molto vivace; Brahms – Vivace, ma non troppo; Adagio, Allegro molto moderato.

For encore the pair played Chopin’s Nocturne in C# minor, and a Brahms Hungarian Dance.

We spent most of the day with Ellie and family in Philadelphia, leaving for New Brunswick after an early dinner.  The free off-street parking was an added bonus.

Metropolitan Opera – Massenet’s Manon. March 25, 2015.

Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center, Balcony (Seat B121, $104.50.)

Story.  See previous blog.  I would add Manon was only 16 when she was introduced in this opera.

Conductor – Emmanuel Villaume; Guillot de Mortontaine – Christopher Mortagne, de Bretigny – Dwayne Croft, Lescaut – Michael Todd Simpson, Manon Lescaut – Diana Damrau, Chevalier des Grieux – Vittorio Grigolo,  Count des Grieux – Nicolas Teste.

We last saw this opera in 2010, in Australia, and once at the Met before my blogging days, so it wasn’t in my original season subscription. With our travels – some last minute, unscheduled – we ended up getting tickets for this show.  I was quite okay to do it again since Damrau and Grigolo are playing the lead.

Let me first say this was an enjoyable performance.  We have heard Damrau several times before and admired her singing.  She seemed to be holding back a bit during the beginning acts, but her singing improved as the performance went on.  In the Playbill she talks about the need to conserve her voice for the more challenging arias in the later acts.  Indeed she managed to sound fresh for the more demanding passages towards the end.  My only prior exposure to Grigolo was a Youtube video of him in a Salzburg Festival performance of La Traviata, opposite Anna Netrebko.  I was quite impressed with how well he did, although I attributed some of that to the engineering of the video.  He was equally impressive tonight, and he didn’t seem to need to hold anything back at the beginning.  Of course I cannot tell how difficult the two parts are relative to each other.  Others did quite well also – actually I don’t remember any weakness in the singing.  The trio of Mireille Asselin, Cecelia Hall and Maya Lahyani (as Posette, Javotte, and Rosette) was particularly entertaining, playing the role of gold-diggers very well.

The sets were perhaps a bit too clever.  For both the first and last acts small houses were “glued” onto other parts of the sets, probably in an attempt to portray the vastness of the town and the length of the road.  The end result was just strange.  The sets for the other three acts (Act 3 has two scenes) were more traditional.  The sets are quite large as they have to accommodate large choruses.  I find the Chapel St. Sulpice particularly impressive, with the many chairs that were set up in the sanctuary.

The chorus had quite a bit of singing to do and put in its usual competent renditions.  The orchestra played well, adding a lot to the mood as events took place on stage.  I wish I had caught more of the musical moments described in the Playbill; I suspect that would take multiple, careful meetings.

The story is still a bit sketchy in that lots of things “happen offstage.”  Having read the Program Notes (on the web) ahead of time, it made more sense today.  Still it was a bit difficult to sympathize with Manon even though she dies at the end.  Nonetheless, the death scene was better than I remembered it.  I called that scene “drawn out” in my writeup on the Opera Australia performance, I definitely didn’t feel that way tonight.

I found this performance more enjoyable than the Opera Australia one – and I enjoyed that one also.  Many factors contributed to this evaluation, and I am sure the singing is at the top of the list.  I do wish there are more singable tunes, though.

The New YorkTimes review characterizes this revival as “sensational.”  The reviewer attributes what I call Damrau's improvement during the show to the maturing of the character.  In any case, this is one of the more easily enjoyable operas this season, and it is both troubling and puzzling the number of empty seats today.  An interesting fact, Nicolas Teste (playing Count des Grieux) is Damrau's husband.

We stopped by Jersey City to spend some time with Reid before we headed to the city.  Dinner was purchased at Anne’s “favorite” street vendor.  On our way back, our GPS routed us through Holland Tunnel.  It is good we took the route as there was a detour at the Lincoln Tunnel helix.

New Jersey Symphony Orchestra – Jacques Lacombe, conductor; Mary Fahl, vocalist, Serhiy Salov, piano. March 21, 2015.

Count Basie Theatre, Red Bank, NJ.  Orchestra (Seat H115, $52.)

Program

O for a Muse of Fire (2014) by Darryl Kubian (b. 1966).

Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, Op. 43 (1934) by Rachmaninoff (1873-1943).

Symphony No. 6 in B Minor, “Pathetique,” Op. 74 (1893) by Tchaikovsky (1840-1893).

Evidently NJSO has this “multi-year Winter Festival” and other initiatives that include composition commissions.  In this case it was “an overture-length piece with a connection to Shakespeare.”  Kubian, an NJSO violinist, decided on Henry V as the basis of his work.  All I know about Henry V is what Kubian said at the introduction of the concert: King Henry’s power over life and death; French and English forces fighting at the Battle of Agincourt; and is casualties of war a worthy sacrifice for unity.  The way he went about structuring the piece was to have the vocalist (who incidentally used a microphone) present themes drawn from the play. and the orchestra expanding on them.  With his “inside tips” (such as themes in the first and second violins represent the English and French forces) the piece is relatively easy to understand.  While I didn’t quite get the drama I would expect of a Shakespeare play, it was nonetheless an enjoyable 12 minutes of music.  The music calls for a waterphone that I definitely didn’t know about, it was helpful that Kubian asked the percussionist to show it to the audience at the beginning.

We heard this Rachmaninoff piece on Halloween last year in Dublin, and from that encounter we knew all about the inverted theme and the use of Dies Irae in the variations.  That knowledge didn’t diminish our appreciation of the composer, or the virtuosity of the performer.  This was our first encounter with the Ukraine-born Salov, and the bio included in the program probably would elicit a shrug from most people.  But did he put in an enjoyable performance.  Being in Row H, and on the center left of the auditorium, we had a clear view of the way he attacked the piano.  It was amazing to watch.  Come to think of it, this was very similar to how I feel about the Dublin experience.  One exception was the “fear” associated with Dies Irae was missing in tonight’s performance.

Our proximity to the stage also made the Pathetique Symphony quite interesting, with everything amplified to up close and personal.  The downside is we had no view of the woodwind, brass, and percussion sections.  The upside is that the violas - whose sound I always have trouble picking out in the orchestra – sounded great.  Even though I have heard this several times in the past few years (by the Boston Symphony, New York Philharmonic, and the Pro Arte Orchestra of Hong Kong), I continue to find this Symphony enjoyable.  I must say it wasn’t as sad as it could be.

In looking over the NJSO website, I found out this isn’t Lacombe’s last season – his last season would be the next.  A little sigh of relief here.

This article at nj.com provides more information on the Kubian piece: the battle was the Battle of Agincourt, the English were outnumbered yet they won (with the long bow.) I found this review of the overall concert.

New York Philharmonic – Alan Gilbert, conductor; Inon Barnatan, piano. March 20, 2015.

Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra 1 (Seat S103, $64.50.)

Program

Nyx (2010) by Salonen (b. 1958).

Piano Concerto in G major (1929-31) by Ravel (1875-1937).

Jeux: Poeme danse (1912-13) by Debussy (1862-1918).

Der Rosenkavalier Suite (1909-10/1944) by R. Strauss (1864-1949).

My prior encounters with Salonen’s music have been mixed, so I was not expecting much from the music that began today’s program.  The Playbill contains Salonen’s description of this work, Nyx being a shadowy figure in Greek mythology which traces to Nyx the creation of Day (or heaven and earth in another version).  Salonen decided to name the composition after this elusive figure, while making the claim that he is not trying to describe her.  He also mentions a deviation of his recent technique of continuous variation of material in the composition of this work.  In any case, many of his remarks are too profound for me, and – I suspect – for much of the audience.

So I fully suspected I would be shrugging my shoulders (figuratively) during the performance.  Instead I found this an easy piece of music to enjoy, as the orchestra is called upon to produce its full range of timbres, frequencies, and loudness.  While I cannot dissect the piece into different parts, I found it quite coherent as the music went from soft to loud, slow to fast, and low to high.

Salonen came on stage afterwards to take a bow.

I recall having heard Ravel’s G major piano at least twice, and came away with different impressions.  This is definitely a difficult piece – Ravel wanted to premiere it but couldn’t, after all – and Barnatan managed to pound out all the notes, leaving no doubt that he could handle the virtuoso piece.  However, musically it wasn’t satisfying, and the second movement simply dragged on aimlessly.  Going back to some of my earlier blog entries, this could be an enjoyable concerto.

A couple of days ago we heard Gershwin’s piano concerto.  Ravel composed this after his visit to America and Gershwin, so it is natural to assume there is some Gershwin influence in this piece.  Indeed occasionally one hears a glissando that evokes images of a jazz player.

Interestingly, a concert I went to last year had both the Gershwin and the Ravel piano concertos on the program.  Actually, the pianist was also the conductor for that concert as well (Jeffrey Kahane.)

We heard Jeux a few years ago, conducted by Lorin Maazel in 2011.  To recap, this was intended as ballet music with a rather thin story line.  I described the sound by the full orchestra then as “great.”  Admittedly I don’t remember much about that 2011 performance; however, while today’s performance is okay, it is definitely not in the “great” camp.

Similarly, the Rosenkavalier Suite didn’t quite rise to the “great” level either.  The version played today was by an unidentified arranger in 1944, although Artur Rodzinski is believed by many to be the editor.  For this concert series Gilbert further replaced the last section of the arrangement with the last pages of the opera, subsuming the vocal parts into the orchestra’s lines.

So this was a disappointing performance, and it showed so much promise on paper.

In his short description of the program, Gilbert talks about exploring texture and color possibilities.  With the exception of Salonen’s, the works were composed within about two decades of one another, yet they have the possibility of providing a wider range of textures than the LSO program we saw two days ago.  Gilbert decided to forgo the use of a baton today, I wonder if that had anything to do with the sloppiness of the sound.  Anne remarked that he looked like a traffic cop.

The 36-year old Israeli pianist is the Artist-in-Association of the New York Philharmonic, so I imagine he comes with great credentials.  I had mentioned earlier how I found his performance flat, let’s hope it gets better as he spends more time working with the orchestra.

I don’t know if Sheryl Staples will be named the concertmaster to replace Dicterow.  If she did, I would be okay with it.  Actually in some way I am rooting for her, something about bridesmaids eventually becoming brides.  There were quite a few solo lines, but today she came across uncharacteristically weak playing them.

In an earlier blog I was hoping that the changes affecting the orchestra won’t diminish its quality.  Let’s hope today was just an aberration.

The New YorkTimes review actually went along pretty much the same lines I did, although I will concede the reviewer has better prose.  The one exception would be his calling Barnatan’s performance “judicious,” and the second movement “striking simplicity.”

This was an 11 am concert, but our drive into and out of the city was quite straightforward.

London Symphony Orchestra – Michael Tilson Thomas, conductor; Yuja Wang, piano. March 18, 2015.

Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Right Orchestra (Seat Z16, $65.)

Program

Four Sea Interludes, from Peter Grimes (1945) by Britten (1913-76).

Concerto in F (1925) by Gershwin (1898-1937).

Symphony No 2 in D major, Op. 43 (1901-02) by Sibelius (1865-1957).

As the playbill says, the three pieces for this concert were written within a span of forty years, and it would be interesting to hear the contrasts among them.  Of course one could have put Brahms and Bruckner in the same program and then made equally profound remarks about how their styles differ.  Having said that, I must say this is a delightful program, yet it didn’t quite stimulate to the extent I thought it would.

Soon after Peter Grimes was premiered, Britten excerpted and edited four of the interludes into an orchestral work.  The titles of the interludes are Dawn (Lento e tranquillo), Sunday Morning (Allegro spiritoso), Moonlight (Andante comodo e rubato), and Storm (Presto con fuoco).  The Playbill has a description of the segments that allows the listener to closely follow the music.  There is some novel instrumentation, such as the use of horns to imitate church bells.  On a good day I would probably find this enjoyable, today – perhaps in my jet-lagged state - I just found the whole thing a bit too predictable and trite.  So you can make music sound like the sea’s different conditions, what’s the big deal.   So could Debussy, Wagner, and many others.  Yes, and we heard The Oceanides by Sibelius in our last concert.  I guess the harshest remark would be this: having heard this piece didn’t really make me want to go see the opera.  In its defense, it didn’t make me want to see it less either.

If you asked me what I know about Gershwin, I would say Rhapsody in Blue, American in Paris, and parts of Porgy & Bess.  In the Playbill Gershwin is quoted as trying to show his critics “there was plenty more where that came from.”  After listening to this, both Anne and I agreed the concerto sounded like a combination of all three, only less exciting.  One note was repeated so often that it seemed to dominate much of the music.  It makes me wonder, however, what distinguishes classical music from jazz.  To me at its best jazz makes you want to swing, it radiates happiness and sadness, and it feels whimsical.  Somehow the “traditional” classical music means more to me, although I can’t quite put my finger on it.  Is it the structure, the harmony, or is it something else?

Yuja Wang is one of these young musicians that burst onto the music scene, seemingly from nowhere.  She is now in her early twenties, and today was the first time that we got to see her.  Our seats were on the right side of the auditorium, so we could see only her face and part of her right arm.  There were times I saw rapid arm movements but could barely hear the piano, I wonder if that was the acoustics of our seats, or it was just lousy balance with the orchestra.  She seemed to enjoy herself, and it looked as if she was singing or murmuring along as she played.  The 30- or so minute piece consists of three movements: Allegro, Adagio – Andante con moto, and Allegro agitato.

The thunderous applause really puzzled me.  She played an encore that I had not heard before, but it was in the same “genre” as Gershwin, if there is such a thing.  The one remarkable thing was she used an iPad (or an Android tablet) as her music score, turning the pages by quickly tapping on the device.

There is much discussion in the Playbill about Sibelius’s second symphony’s patriotic element, a defiant gesture towards the Russian occupation.  Frankly I didn’t hear much of it; actually I found it rather sunny.  Described as “significantly tauter” than the first, I still found its 45 minute length a bit long.  However, it is on the whole quite enjoyable.  The part where a theme took a while to be teased out in its entirety still held me in anticipation.  The movements are: Allegretto; Tempo Andante, ma rubato; Vivacissimo; and Finale: Allegro moderato, with the last two movements played without pause.

I vaguely recall listening to Thomas conducting this orchestra (or was it the San Francisco Symphony?) at the Barbican Center years ago, before my concert-blogging days.  However, I must say I don’t have much recollection of that event.  If you ask me five years down the road, I suspect all I remember would be this is the first time I heard Yuja Wang, and it was a concert that didn’t quite live up to (what I considered) its promise.  Also, the exaggerated movements of the Symphony's leader made me wonder if he thought he was the soloist.

I am finishing this writeup on March 21, after attending a New York Philharmonic concert last night.  I will have more to say about the latter concert, but suffice it to say the programming there was much more successful in showing the style contrasts of the different composers on the program.

The New YorkTimes review characterized Wang’s playing as brilliant; the Sibelius symphony as epic; and that the encore, titled “You Come Here Often,” was written for Yuja Wang by Michael Tilson Thomas.

New York Philharmonic – Sakari Oramo, conductor; Frank Peter Zimmermann, violin. February 26, 2015.

Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, First Tier (Seat CC15, $64.50).

Program

Aallottaret (The Oceanides), Tone Poem for Orchestra, Op. 73 (1914) by Sibelius (1865-1957).

Concerto for Violin in D minor, Op. 47 (1902-04; rev. 1905) by Sibelius.

Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 73 (1877) by Brahms (1833-97).

We came back from an international trip late Tuesday, so I was worried about being awake for this program.  On top of that, babysitting duties and Anne’s meeting in Flushing meant a relatively early start for us.  I am glad to report that we had no problems.

Aallottaret is the name of the water nymphs of Greek antiquity, and Sibelius wrote it as a commission for a music festival in Norfolk, CT.  He was also invited to conduct its premiere, and the composer retitled the tone poem from “Rondo of the Waves” to the current one after crossing the Atlantic on Kaiser Wilhem II (perhaps a rough ride?).  Except for the conjecture, all this is from the Playbill, which also cites opinion that this work calls to mind the other famous seascape piece (La Mer) and was perhaps Sibelius’s venture into impressionism.

To me, the line between impressionist paintings and those of other genres is quite blurry.  I haven’t studied what impressionist music really is, but suspect there is a similar spectrum of uncertainty involved.  One thing I know, impressionist paintings appeal more readily to me than impressionist music, and I say this as someone who goes to concerts much more than art galleries.

While the music is definitely Sibelius, the adjective that came to my mind was “clichéd.”  There may be a story line associated with the music (as those tone poems that I know have), I couldn’t make it out and wasn’t creative enough to make one up, so all I got were sounds of waves, crescendos and decrescendos (building up and calming of the waves, no doubt.)  I found both La Mer and the overture to Flying Dutchman more compelling as a description of the oceans.  The orchestra sounded quite precise, though.

Zimmermann was a recent artist-in-residence at the Philharmonic, and I heard him a couple of times.  I was also looking forward to hearing Sibelius’s concerto, a piece that is both technically and musically challenging piece.

Technically Zimmermann did well, one measure of that was at no time I was worried that he would miss a passage.  However, I did cringe – a lot – at his intonation problems, especially during the first movement.  Anne had a similar complaint.

Lately it has been out of fashion to talk about how this violin concerto is a reflection of Sibelius’s inadequacies as a violinist (although he was pretty good,) which is okay.  However, that doesn’t mean all the emotion should be taken from the composition.  Zimmermann started the solo with a dark tone, underlined by little use of the vibrato, which really captured my attention; it is too bad the piece eventually sounded like an etude.

In any case, the audience went wild afterwards.  Zimmermann played Bach’s Partita (MWV 1006, E major) as an encore.  It was really well-played, with the different lines coming through clearly.

Of all the Brahms symphonies, I have a special affinity for his second: I was with the Cornell Symphony when we played it at one of the semi-annual concerts.  That was the 70s.  Forty years later it still sounded as lovely as it did then.

This was the first time we saw Oramo, chief conductor of the Royal Stockholm Orchestra.  While he certainly got a good sound from the orchestra, especially for the Sibelius violin concerto, I am not sure how good a story-teller he is.

It’s been a while since we last sat in Tier 1, the acoustics at the corner was surprisingly good.  While I was scanning the orchestra with my binoculars, I noticed in the Violin II section someone who (used to?) plays for the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra.  Audition?

The New YorkTimes review contains some interesting information on the “new” violin Zimmermann used for this concert (a Guarnerius instead of a Strad) and explained how he managed to produce a similar sound.  The reviewer also talked about the beginning of the concerto.  He however liked the entire performance.  I did like the sound of the instrument, though.

Anne went to Flushing earlier in the day to have a meeting, and I drove up by myself to Lincoln Center.  Traffic wasn’t a problem at all.

Opera Australia – Gounod’s Faust. February 21, 2015.

Joan Sutherland Theatre at Sydney Opera House, Circle (Seat M20, A$139.)

Story.  See previous blog.  There are some variations in this production: some of the scenes (e.g., Marguerite killing her baby) happens in a vision, Marguerite didn’t go to heaven (not physically anyway), and Faust didn’t follow Satan into hell – he was transformed into an old man again.

Conductor – Guillaume Tourniaire; Mephistopheles – Teddy Tahu Rhodes, Faust – Michael Fabiano, Marguerite – Nicole Car, Wagner – Richard Anderson, Siebel – Anna Dowsley, Valentin – Giorgio Caoduro, Marthe – Dominica Matthews.

As is our usual practice, we try to see one opera during our annual visit to Australia.  The old war horses (Butterfly, e.g.) are being performed, but my preference is for something less popular, and this opera also worked well with our availability during our time in Sydney.  Of course this opera is one of the most performed operas historically, and it was the first opera performed at the Met (yes, that Met), and the Met is sometimes described as the “house that Faust built.” The last quote was from the flyer handed out at the door.  As usual I decided against buying a program (especially since I just got one from SSO for free earlier today,) which incidentally is priced at A$20.

Let me first dispense with the “how was it” question.  At the risk of repeating what I said about another OA performance, this was an excellent show, perhaps the best OA show I have seen over the years.  (The last OA performance I gave this accolade to was La Boheme two years ago.)  No doubt an important factor is the story.  Even though I had forgotten some of the details (and they vary from version to version), the overall story of “selling ones soul for … take your pick …” is compelling.  At the intermission both Anne and I agreed that the plot was unfolding at a nice pace, which made the 3:15 hour go rather quickly.

The singers were uniformly good.  They all look quite young (we were seated at the back of the hall, so I am not completely sure.)  However, I am sure I read somewhere that Michael Fabiano is a 30-year old American sensation – he certainly did very well as Faust today.

The production was on the “in your face” side.  I have made similar remarks that a show with Satan playing a lead role has to be somewhat blasphemous.  It was very much so here with images of Christ and Satan mixed up constantly; at certain points I even felt a bit uncomfortable.  Perhaps that was the idea?  The handout today is more detailed than ones I got in the past (it is printed on both sides!), and talks about how magnificent the set is: giving the audience a Parisian theatre, a recreation of the Church of Saint-Severin and a glittering reconstruction of the Cabaret L’Enfer.  I suppose I would have been impressed if I had been to these specific places …

The drama and the good singing redeemed some of the short-comings in the show.  Rhodes as Satan generally did well, but his voice is weak at the lowest registers.  Nicole Car as Marguerite drew a great deal of sympathy from the audience with her melancholic and wistful renditions.  I did cringe a bit when the violin solo was quite out of tune at one point.  The chorus did a competent job, but there were some jitters at the beginning which diminished as the performance progressed.

There was a rather long ballet scene during Faust’s vision that was quite disturbing.  The ballets would start out traditionally enough but they devolved into chaotic scenes that sometimes bordered on lewdness.  I don’t remember the same level of repulsiveness in the other Fausts I saw.

I told Tim one of the familiar tunes is the Hungarian March and hummed it for him.  Turns out he knew the tune I hummed, but it was actually from Berlioz’s Damnation of Faust.  The tune I was thinking of sounds more like the French National Anthem.  In any case, on any given day these two tunes and the triumphal march from Aida get me extremely confused.  Alyson also pointed out the Jewel Song sung by Marguerite was the one in the movie Adventures of Tintin that caused the crystal to shatter.  I had seen that movie but embarrassingly couldn’t remember its use of the tune.

In any case, an annual routine ended up being a very enjoyable evening.

The Sydney Morning Herald review is glowing, with the reviewer climbing all over herself to find better adjectives to describe the performance.  She only had a minor quibble with the orchestra, wishing that they will "find greater focus during the season."

I found out earlier today that the house seats only about 1500 people.  Indeed when we took a ferry ride from Circular Quay it is obvious that the Concert Hall (on the right in this photo) is larger than the Opera Theatre.

Sydney Symphony Orchestra – David Robertson, conductor. February 21, 2015.

Concert Hall at Sydney Opera House, Circle (Seat S7, A$62.)

Program

Jerusalem (after Blake) by Georges Lentz (b. 1965).

Symphony No. 4 in D minor, Op. 120 by Schumann (1810-1856).

Symphony No. 3 in E flat, Op. 97, Rhenish by Schumann.

Anne and I are visiting Australia.  As is our practice, we had bought tickets for an opera quite a while ago – that was going to be Saturday evening.  After having been here for more than a week, we realized that we would be able to attend this concert as well.  When I offered to buy tickets at (about) A$80 each, the box office agent said these $62 ones were just slightly inferior, so we gladly took her advice.  Lest one thinks this lady had a grudge against Sydney Symphony, it was far from being so: she proceeded to tell us the great conductors they have had before Robertson, including Edo de Waart.

It had been a few years since I last visited the Concert Hall.  It still looks quite modern after 50 years or so, and it seats comfortably 2700 people, with lots of elbow and leg room – of course here in Sydney one seldom has to contend with heavy coats.

Lentz is a member of the Sydney Symphony’s violin section who is also “one of Australia’s best-regarded composers on the international scene.”  According to the Program Notes (which is free, by the way), his inspiration for the orchestral piece came from the unspeakable tragedies that occurred recently, including the disappearance of MH370, 9/11, people being beheaded, and the human race’s ignorance towards ecological disaster.  Lentz wants people to heed Blake’s warning in Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion: “Awake! Awake Jerusalem!”  I may or may not have heard these statements in the music, but must say as modern music goes it was okay, even considering it was quite long at over 20 minutes.  As is typical of this genre, there are non-traditional arrangements such as the placement of seven brass instruments in the back of the hall, the use of three piccolos, an electronic track, and a metal sheet.  There were seven cell phones that were supposed to represent the phone calls that never came for those on MH370, but neither Anne nor I could hear the ring.  Also, some credit must be given to the percussionists who managed to quietly stow the metal sheet after it came off the stand.

This is Robertson’s second year as the music director and chief conductor of SSO, and he seems to have settled in well.  Perhaps it was his programming expertise, or perhaps anything would sound “romantic” after the Lentz piece, I really enjoyed Schumann’s Fourth Symphony.  This work was first composed during Schumann’s first year of marriage to Clara and reflected the happiness he felt.  It was originally published as the second symphony but was later revised substantially and retitled the fourth. While I don’t remember having heard it many times before, the movements all sounded familiar.  As with some of Tchaikovsky’s symphonies, many of the themes were reused over and over; they were all very nice tunes, so I welcomed them.  The movements are listed as follows in the Program: Ziemlich langsam [Rather slow] – Lebhaft [Lively] – Romanze [Ziemlich langsam] – Scherzo [Lebhaft] – Langsam [Slow] – Lebhaft.  Indeed the movements were played without break, but there were still clear demarcations between them.

There was a child sitting behind us that complained quite a bit during the performance.  Given where he was sitting, I am sure he disturbed the entire audience and the orchestra.  But their seats were such that for them to leave during the performance would have been even more distracting.  There are legitimate reasons why there should be some age restrictions.  The parents were considerate enough that they left after the conclusion of the first half of the program.

In comparison I wasn’t at all familiar with the third symphony, written during Schumann’s stay in Dusseldorf.  There was certainly much less repetition of the themes (perhaps I failed to catch them?)  The symphony is somewhat unusual in that it has five movements (i) Lebhaft [Lively], (ii) Scherzo [Sehr massig] [Very moderately], (iii) Nicht schnell [Not fast], (iv) Feierlich [Ceremonially], and (v) Lebhaft.  Even though the Program contains a rather detailed description of the movements, I must say I had trouble following it, and that includes this description of the third movement which “according to Jonathan Kramer is too songlike and direct to be a real slow movement, and therefore establishing the need for an additional movement, a true adagio.” Wow!

Here is a review from the Sydney Morning Herald on a concert where the 2 symphonies were paired with a violin concerto.  Frankly I am not sure if the reviewer liked the performance.  The reviewer concedes the program was brilliantly conceived but may be too advanced for the average listener, and she also remarked how Robertson leapt of the podium at some point.  Well, they have snobs (not necessarily a bad word) in Australia, and she should know by now Robertson is one of those "energetic" conductors - he jumps around even if the music is not Schumann.

I posted this event on my Facebook page, including the words “the sound of the hall is too clean,” which Chung Shu wanted me to explain.  By most measures the acoustics in the hall is excellent, Carnegie Hall-excellent, one might say.  However, the sound has such an engineered quality to it that not much “rawness” comes through.

Attendance was quite respectable with the hall being 80 to 90% full in my estimation.

The SSO is a world-class orchestra.  Being so far from other major cities, they probably will remain only a regional powerhouse, which is a real pity.

New York Philharmonic – David Zinman, conductor; Lisa Batiashvili, violin. February 6, 2015.

Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra (Seat S108, $64.50.)

Program

Iscariot (1989) by Christopher Rouse (b. 1949).

Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 14 (1939-40/1948) by Barber (1910-81).

Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27 (1906-08) by Rachmaninoff (1873-1943).

Due to various unforeseen circumstances, including an unplanned, last-minute trip to Hong Kong, it had been a while (relatively speaking, it’s not quite three weeks) that we went to a concert.  Having just gotten back to NJ after essentially a two-week absence, my mind hadn’t quite swung back to “routine” yet.  Thus I never got to read up on the program notes until I got the Playbill at about 7:30 pm.  There was not a lot that I could gleam from the notes that would help in my understanding of the music, although the annotator did put the compositions somewhat in context, which at least got my curiosity piqued.

Rouse is finishing up his last (of three) years as composer-in-residence at New York Philharmonic.  While his music is generally accessible on the first hearing, it is seldom – if ever – exciting.  That it began on a Mahler Sixth-like quintuple-f certainly was unusual, and the loud beat made by the bass drum (and hammer, per Playbill, although I couldn’t tell) certainly caught everyone’s attention.  It is not always that I can correlate the music with the sketch in the Playbill, but for this piece it was actually quite easy – from the Parsifal-like strings and the clock-chiming harmonics.  I do not know much about some of the other musical references though, and these include “Es ist genug” in a Lutheran chorale used by Bach, Madame Press Died Last Week at Ninety by Feldman, and Unanswered Question by Ives.  The most puzzling, however, are the references to the terms “strophe” and “antistrophe.”  Now I know the terms refers to sections of an ancient Greek chorale ode, but neither Anne nor I could figure out what the terms meant during the concert.  This recalls a similar situation on Thursday: we went to MoMA to look at Matisse’s cutout exhibit, and the term “maquette” was used all over the exhibition, and we had no idea what it meant.  At least we could google it in real time and found out it meant a scale model.

I could make some remarks about the music.  While pleasant and interesting enough (these are relative terms, of course,) I couldn’t quite understand how the different strophes and antistrophes are linked together to describe Judas Iscariot.  The images that the name evokes are most likely betrayal, death, greed, and disappointment.  Many of these can be associated with the music, but taken as a whole I suspect Iscariot isn’t the title that the ordinary listener will come up with.  The music is by-and-large tonal, but there are sections that the bowing in the strings is not the same for some members of the sections.  That is a technique used by Karel Husa in some of his works, and Rouse studied under Husa for a while.

We had heard the Barber violin concerto once before (at least,) and I remember the soloist as Gil Shaham.  The Playbill does say it was last performed by Shaham in December, 2012; we were out of town during that time.  A search of this blog clears it up: Shaham also played this in 2010.  (Of course that begs the question of why.)  I will go back and look at my entry later, but after four or five years I don’t have much recollection of it; if I had to guess I would say it was not particularly memorable.  Barber provided a commentary, quoted in the Playbill, that was very helpful in following the performance.

Today’s performance by Batiashvili (also artist-in-residence at the Philharmonic, as it happens) was quite enjoyable.  From what I could tell, the first two movements (Allegro and Andante) are not particularly challenging technically, but the last movement (Presto in moto perpetuo) calls for such speed that you root for the soloist not to slip.  Other than some minor intonation problems, she didn’t have trouble at all.  Per Playbill she plays the 1739 “del Gesu” Guarnerius which has a rich and deep sound on the G-string.  I was impressed with how well it sounded overall against a large orchestra (although described as moderate-sized by Barber.)

[After having finished the above I went back to my blog entry on the 2/27/2010 concert.  My impression was quite different: among other things, the Program Notes had more interesting things to say about the “controversy” of the work, and that Shaham’s Stradivarius was sometimes overwhelmed by the orchestra.]

The name Rachmaninoff usually makes one think of romanticism, nice melodies, complex harmony, and virtuosity.  For some reason the second symphony doesn’t quite elicit those comments from me.  Not that it was boring, it was just not as exciting as some of the composer’s other works.  This is a rather long symphony at 65 minutes, and the four movements are (i) Largo – Allegro moderato; (ii) Allegro molto – Meno mosso – Tempo I; (iii) Adagio; and (iv) Allegro vivace – Adagio – Tempo precedente.  (That begs the question, what is the difference between Tempo I and Tempo precedente?)  Of course the Adagio movement is quite popular.  Anticipating it is like looking forward to Nessun Dorma by sitting through the entire Turandot; the Adagio is at least 15 minutes or so long.

The New YorkTimes reviewer is very positive on all aspects of the concert.  While I didn’t find Zinman’s interpretation particularly compelling, she used words such as exuberant, deft, and passion in her description of his conducting.

During intermission I notice an email from New York Philharmonic announcing the resignation of Alan Gilbert after the 2016/17 season.  That caught me by surprise.  I looked up the on-line news items: most repeat the same basic facts, with Gilbert saying if he doesn’t leave after the 16/17 season, then he will probably have to stay through 2021 to provide continuity through the Avery Fisher Hall renovation.  The only article that raised the possibility of palace intrigue is the one in Washington Post; the writer has a rather low view of Gilbert.

I have been going to New York Philharmonic concerts for many years, these times have been the most tumultuous.  I do hope the organization emerges stronger because of them.

It has been very cold this season, so traffic was lighter than usual.  Our ride into town was uneventful until we got to the West Side.  Many local streets had at least one lane blocked because of snow, which made traffic very slow.  We ended waiting at one of the “free after 7 pm” spots on Amsterdam.  Our ride back was quick.