Richardson Auditorium in Alexander Hall, Princeton University, Row 1, Balcony Center.
Quartet members: Matthew Denton and Michelle Fleming, violins; Eoin Schmidt-Martin,Viola; Emma Denton, cello.
Program
String Quartet Op. 33, No. 2 “The Joke” by Franz Joseph Haydn (1732-1809).
String Quartet No. 2 in E-flat by Ernest Moeran (1894-1950).
String Quartet No. 12 in F Major, Op. 96 “American” by Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904).
Anne is in Shanghai this week, so I went to this concert “alone”. David and Vivien got the ticket for me and we met up at the auditorium at about 7:15 pm (concert started at 8 pm). I remarked to David and Vivien that most quartets I have heard in concert were heard over the last several years at the Princeton summer series. Chamber music is not high on my list of “likes”. No so much I mind them, just that there is so much orchestral music that appeals to me even more.
In any case, tonight’s quartet consists of two married couples (one could easily tell by their names, unless Emma Denton decided to keep her maiden name). One couple is British, the other Irish. They adopted an Italian town as their namesake in 1997. All the players appear to be in their 30s, so they were very young then.
The Haydn quartet is one of the more balanced ones I have heard, my usual complaint about a quartet being a violin with 3 accompanying instruments isn’t that valid in this instance. Actually the balance for the group is very good, although the cello could be a bit stronger. Given the title of the piece, I kept trying to hear what the joke was. There were a few places that – if one stretched one’s imagination – could be called funny. It turns out the joke was at the very end where in two instances people applauded before the piece ended. To be fair, Haydn just added a couple more phrases to what could be construed as “natural” endings of standard chord sequences. Good thing the audience didn’t take themselves that seriously; or is it now obligatory to applaud at those points – like the tradition of standing up when the Hallelujah Chorus is sung? The movements are (i) Allegro moderato; (ii) Scherzo: Allegro; (iii) Largo; and (iv) Presto.
Moeran was either British or Scottish, and this quartet was published posthumously. People weren’t sure if this was chronologically his first or second quartet as there is no record when this was actually composed. Information courtesy David. We also had a discussion of our favorite (or lack thereof) English composer: Purcell, Elgar, Vaughan Williams. There were quite a few transplants such as Handel and Mendelssohn. Matthew Denton said a few words about how the music started sounding like Elgar and ended like an Irish folk tune. In that regard it was quite interesting, and it didn’t sound what mid-20th century composition would be like. The three movements are (i) Allegro Moderato Ma Ben Animato; (ii) Lento – Vivace – Allegretto – Andante; and (iii) Allegro Vivace. The third movement is so short that it might well be part of the second movement. David thought only two movements were written when the manuscript was discovered.
I was quite sure I hadn’t heard the Dvorak quartet before. Turns out the first movement is very familiar (and melodious). For some reason the quartet sounded a little bit out of tune at the beginning. Perhaps the first two pieces were in E-flat and now a piece in F needed some adjustment on my part? We were wondering whether “American” in the Dvorak piece refers to Native American music (which I know very little about) or Folk American music (a la The New World Symphony). After listening to it, I am quite sure it refers to the latter. The four movements are (i) Allegro ma non troppo; (ii) Lento; (iii) Molto vivace; and (iv) Finale: Vivace ma non troppo.
The quartet played a South American piece (didn’t hear the specifics) that had “whishing” (rapid upwards glissandos) and sandpaper sounds (made by bowing the strings on the other side of the bridge), and a lot of tapping on the keyboard. A fun piece to hear, and – it appears – to play.
All in all a very delightful concert.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
New York Philharmonic – Bramwell Tovey, Conductor; Mikhail Simonyan, Violin. June 29, 2010.
Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra (Seat OO13, $30).
Program
March and Scherzo from The Love for Three Oranges, Op. 33 (1919) by Prokofiev (1891-1953).
Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35 (1878) by Tchaikovsky (1840-93).
Selections from Act III of Raymonda, Op. 57 (1896-97) by Glazunov (1865-1936).
Marche slave, Op. 31 (1876) by Tchaikovsky.
Our half-tickets were obtained through Goldstar. The seats were located in the third to last row of the main floor, but the view was okay, especially with binoculars. The acoustics were actually quite good compared to other parts of the concert hall.
Tonight’s program was billed as “From Russia with Love” even though not all the pieces were based on love stories. All the composers were Russian, the soloist is Russian. The Orchestra is New York, and the Conductor is British. There were a lot of foreign-language speaking people in the audience, I assume they were Russian. You see lots of Chinese going to a Lang Lang concert, and a lot of Japanese to one with Uchida playing.
With the exception of the violin concerto, I thought I wasn’t familiar with the rest of the program (their durations – 4, 15, and 10 minutes – add up to less than that of the concerto at 33 minutes. Turns out the March from the opera is considered Prokofiev’s signature piece, and Marche slave is a very familiar tune.
The March and Scherzo together lasted 4 minutes, which was shorter than the time it took to read the Program Notes. The pieces were played crisply, but there wasn’t much “emotion” attached to it. Perhaps there isn’t much emotion in the writing as the story (per the Notes) is a bit absurd. I guess it serves the purpose of getting over the initial jitters for the performers, and gives late comers a chance to be seated. And it also demonstrated that the guest conductor could work with the orchestra, and the orchestra was in good condition: some kind of sound check.
Tovey talked a bit about the concerto before playing resumed. I didn’t realize the opening theme by the orchestra isn’t reused in the piece at all. I had never heard of Simonyan before and didn’t know what to expect. He is a young fellow in his 20s. He started well enough with a firm and confident statement. The Notes says he plays two different violins, a 1769 Gagliano and a 2010 Christophe Landon copy of a 1734 Stradivarius. I wondered which one he played: my guess is the Stradivarius copy as the sound carried well but at times was quite unrefined. Unfortunately the rest of the performance didn’t quite meet the expectations set by the opening. Actually by “world class” standards it bordered on atrocious. A missed note or bad intonation here or there is quite forgivable, but the worst of it is he played it like an etude. At some point you felt he gave up on the piece and was just going through the motions. The last movement provided some redemption, but not enough. [The three movements are (i) Allegro moderato – Moderato assai; (ii) Canzonetta. Andante; and (iii) Finale. Allegro vivacissimo.]
As encore, Simonyan played a virtuoso piece which I had never heard of (and I couldn’t hear what he said). It is a strange piece, probably difficult, but also didn’t go anywhere.
Tovey mentioned that Simonyan played at Windsor Castle with Prince Charles in the audience. I hope he played better then, or Prince Charles is a more charitable listener. The applause by the audience was quite enthusiastic, though.
Glazunov is the most famous of the second tier of Russian composers, per Tovey. I guess it is difficult to measure up to people such as Borodin, Rimsky-Korsakov, Mussorgsky, and Tchaikovsky (and the list is much longer.) The Program Notes has a short description of the story, and Act III is about the wedding of the protagonists. The different movements for this performance are: Entr’acte; Grand pas hongrois; Pass classique hongrois; Variation II; Variation IV; and Galop. Tovey said there was no need to applaud between movements, and I suspect none would have been forthcoming. Not that they were poorly played, but the movements (excuses to have dancers doing their thing) just weren’t that exciting.
Marche slave was written before the 1812 Overture, and the latter has many episodes based on the former. Turns out the piece is actually quite familiar. Both Anne and I would probably mistake this as a Rimsky-Korsakov piece with a short section from 1812 spliced in if we had to guess. It was marked as a funeral march, but I didn't hear it as such at all. Also, the title means Slavish March, not the march of a slave. in some sense you can call this a very "misunderstood" piece of composition. It was quite enjoyable and quite well performed.
As an encore, the orchestra played a March from the Nutcracker Suite.
Overall, I am quite critical of this particular concert. I am sure the criticism is justified. However, perhaps I should look at it as a summer interlude and set my expectations accordingly. Also, how well the soloist plays matters, but I also wonder if the conductor actually matters more than I would expect.
Program
March and Scherzo from The Love for Three Oranges, Op. 33 (1919) by Prokofiev (1891-1953).
Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35 (1878) by Tchaikovsky (1840-93).
Selections from Act III of Raymonda, Op. 57 (1896-97) by Glazunov (1865-1936).
Marche slave, Op. 31 (1876) by Tchaikovsky.
Our half-tickets were obtained through Goldstar. The seats were located in the third to last row of the main floor, but the view was okay, especially with binoculars. The acoustics were actually quite good compared to other parts of the concert hall.
Tonight’s program was billed as “From Russia with Love” even though not all the pieces were based on love stories. All the composers were Russian, the soloist is Russian. The Orchestra is New York, and the Conductor is British. There were a lot of foreign-language speaking people in the audience, I assume they were Russian. You see lots of Chinese going to a Lang Lang concert, and a lot of Japanese to one with Uchida playing.
With the exception of the violin concerto, I thought I wasn’t familiar with the rest of the program (their durations – 4, 15, and 10 minutes – add up to less than that of the concerto at 33 minutes. Turns out the March from the opera is considered Prokofiev’s signature piece, and Marche slave is a very familiar tune.
The March and Scherzo together lasted 4 minutes, which was shorter than the time it took to read the Program Notes. The pieces were played crisply, but there wasn’t much “emotion” attached to it. Perhaps there isn’t much emotion in the writing as the story (per the Notes) is a bit absurd. I guess it serves the purpose of getting over the initial jitters for the performers, and gives late comers a chance to be seated. And it also demonstrated that the guest conductor could work with the orchestra, and the orchestra was in good condition: some kind of sound check.
Tovey talked a bit about the concerto before playing resumed. I didn’t realize the opening theme by the orchestra isn’t reused in the piece at all. I had never heard of Simonyan before and didn’t know what to expect. He is a young fellow in his 20s. He started well enough with a firm and confident statement. The Notes says he plays two different violins, a 1769 Gagliano and a 2010 Christophe Landon copy of a 1734 Stradivarius. I wondered which one he played: my guess is the Stradivarius copy as the sound carried well but at times was quite unrefined. Unfortunately the rest of the performance didn’t quite meet the expectations set by the opening. Actually by “world class” standards it bordered on atrocious. A missed note or bad intonation here or there is quite forgivable, but the worst of it is he played it like an etude. At some point you felt he gave up on the piece and was just going through the motions. The last movement provided some redemption, but not enough. [The three movements are (i) Allegro moderato – Moderato assai; (ii) Canzonetta. Andante; and (iii) Finale. Allegro vivacissimo.]
As encore, Simonyan played a virtuoso piece which I had never heard of (and I couldn’t hear what he said). It is a strange piece, probably difficult, but also didn’t go anywhere.
Tovey mentioned that Simonyan played at Windsor Castle with Prince Charles in the audience. I hope he played better then, or Prince Charles is a more charitable listener. The applause by the audience was quite enthusiastic, though.
Glazunov is the most famous of the second tier of Russian composers, per Tovey. I guess it is difficult to measure up to people such as Borodin, Rimsky-Korsakov, Mussorgsky, and Tchaikovsky (and the list is much longer.) The Program Notes has a short description of the story, and Act III is about the wedding of the protagonists. The different movements for this performance are: Entr’acte; Grand pas hongrois; Pass classique hongrois; Variation II; Variation IV; and Galop. Tovey said there was no need to applaud between movements, and I suspect none would have been forthcoming. Not that they were poorly played, but the movements (excuses to have dancers doing their thing) just weren’t that exciting.
Marche slave was written before the 1812 Overture, and the latter has many episodes based on the former. Turns out the piece is actually quite familiar. Both Anne and I would probably mistake this as a Rimsky-Korsakov piece with a short section from 1812 spliced in if we had to guess. It was marked as a funeral march, but I didn't hear it as such at all. Also, the title means Slavish March, not the march of a slave. in some sense you can call this a very "misunderstood" piece of composition. It was quite enjoyable and quite well performed.
As an encore, the orchestra played a March from the Nutcracker Suite.
Overall, I am quite critical of this particular concert. I am sure the criticism is justified. However, perhaps I should look at it as a summer interlude and set my expectations accordingly. Also, how well the soloist plays matters, but I also wonder if the conductor actually matters more than I would expect.
Monday, June 28, 2010
New York Philharmonic – Alan Gilbert, Conductor. June 26, 2010.
Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Second Tier (Seat CC18, $48).
Program
Al largo (2010) by Magnus Lindberg (b. 1958) (World Premiere).
Missa solemnis, Op. 123 (1819-23) by Beethoven (1770-1827).
Christine Brewer, Soprano; Jane Henschel, Mezzo-Soprano; Anthony Dean Griffey, Tenor; Eric Ownes, Bass-Baritone; New York Choral Artists, Joseph Flummerfelt, Director.
We were having a quiet few days at home, and decided to go to New York to see if we can get a couple of these discounted tickets at the Atrium (turns out they temporarily moved to Alice Tully Hall) for tonight’s concert. In fact it was going to be the last performance of the regular season. Before we left we saw from the website that they still had quite a few seats left, and the auditorium was pretty full for the concert, so somehow they managed to sell most of their tickets.
We had a few extra hours in New York and walked down to Columbus Circle to take a look at this Museum of Art and Design. Their exhibition titled “Live or Dead?” was quite interesting. One of the exhibits was a copy of a scroll/painting in the Wuxi, China museum. The copy was done by casting shadows of leaves, straws, and other natural materials onto an opaque piece of glass. Pretty clever and quite nicely done. The exhibits were reasonably interesting but I don’t see how they can draw enough of a crowd to generate any appreciable income.
After a simple dinner at China Fun, we were ready for the concert.
We heard a Lindberg piece (EXPO) earlier this season, I don’t remember much of it, but I am quite sure I wasn’t particularly fond of it. (A review of my blog confirms this.) Tonight’s piece, alas, was to be 25 minutes long. “Al largo” is a contrived title that doesn’t quite fit the music no matter how you interpret it (slow, far away from the coast, open sea, etc.) The composer makes the claim of “this is the fastest music I’ve ever written, yet deep down there is a feeling of a very slow undertone and a very slow momentum …” I didn’t find the music fast (perhaps he generally writes very slowly?) and certainly didn’t catch the slow undertone. The piece at least contained many interesting and exuberant passages, although I couldn’t figure out how they fitted together. Overall the best statement I can make about the piece is it felt 25 minutes long.
Beethoven took a lot of time to write this mass, and actually missed several deadlines, including the installation of his patron Archduke Rudolph as a Cardinal. The Program Notes also says the score was released in print at a time close to the composer’s death (1827). So it took quite a while to get things published a couple of centuries ago also. In any case, I didn’t know of this work’s existence until this concert season.
I wholeheartedly agree this piece is uniquely Beethoven. Even though I’m sure he didn’t use such tempo marking for a mass, there were quite a few passages of “Allegro con brio” in there. The demands on the chorus seemed particularly great, and the New York Choral Artists did very well. There were a couple of places (e.g., at the end of Gloria) that I really felt applauses were warranted.
The sections of the mass are: Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei. The words are standard, but I found the performance quite moving in a spiritual sense. While in college I knew this Christian friend who was offended when choirs sing sacred music to get people into a reflective mood. Some of that may be true, but I nonetheless don’t find that objectionable at all. This is after all the reason why sacred music gets written.
The concertmaster Glen Dicterow played the solo violin in Benedictus. It was a bit unsteady and disappointing. For someone with perfect pitch (per an earlier Program Notes) he certainly missed quite a few notes. The overall movement was still quite enjoyable.
Gilbert claims there are these secular elements in the music to make one wonder if there were hints of Beethoven searching for his relationship with faith. He points to the military elements in Agnus Dei as examples of “secular elements seem[ing] to take over.” There are indeed march-like phrases, but I don’t think they are nearly strong enough to make Gilbert’s case. I realize I am making this statement after hearing the music once, while Gilbert studied it carefully.
A few interesting items. There was this lady cellist sitting next to the principal, we wonder if she was auditioning for a job. Also, Thomas Stacey, who usually plays the English Horn, was playing the oboe for the Beethoven piece. I am sure he is quite good at it, just that I had never seen it until now. This piece was last performed by the New York Philharmonic in 1999, and Christine Brewer sang the soprano part also.
The New York Times gave the Beethoven performance a generally positive review. The review of the Lindberg piece was a bit more mixed.
Program
Al largo (2010) by Magnus Lindberg (b. 1958) (World Premiere).
Missa solemnis, Op. 123 (1819-23) by Beethoven (1770-1827).
Christine Brewer, Soprano; Jane Henschel, Mezzo-Soprano; Anthony Dean Griffey, Tenor; Eric Ownes, Bass-Baritone; New York Choral Artists, Joseph Flummerfelt, Director.
We were having a quiet few days at home, and decided to go to New York to see if we can get a couple of these discounted tickets at the Atrium (turns out they temporarily moved to Alice Tully Hall) for tonight’s concert. In fact it was going to be the last performance of the regular season. Before we left we saw from the website that they still had quite a few seats left, and the auditorium was pretty full for the concert, so somehow they managed to sell most of their tickets.
We had a few extra hours in New York and walked down to Columbus Circle to take a look at this Museum of Art and Design. Their exhibition titled “Live or Dead?” was quite interesting. One of the exhibits was a copy of a scroll/painting in the Wuxi, China museum. The copy was done by casting shadows of leaves, straws, and other natural materials onto an opaque piece of glass. Pretty clever and quite nicely done. The exhibits were reasonably interesting but I don’t see how they can draw enough of a crowd to generate any appreciable income.
After a simple dinner at China Fun, we were ready for the concert.
We heard a Lindberg piece (EXPO) earlier this season, I don’t remember much of it, but I am quite sure I wasn’t particularly fond of it. (A review of my blog confirms this.) Tonight’s piece, alas, was to be 25 minutes long. “Al largo” is a contrived title that doesn’t quite fit the music no matter how you interpret it (slow, far away from the coast, open sea, etc.) The composer makes the claim of “this is the fastest music I’ve ever written, yet deep down there is a feeling of a very slow undertone and a very slow momentum …” I didn’t find the music fast (perhaps he generally writes very slowly?) and certainly didn’t catch the slow undertone. The piece at least contained many interesting and exuberant passages, although I couldn’t figure out how they fitted together. Overall the best statement I can make about the piece is it felt 25 minutes long.
Beethoven took a lot of time to write this mass, and actually missed several deadlines, including the installation of his patron Archduke Rudolph as a Cardinal. The Program Notes also says the score was released in print at a time close to the composer’s death (1827). So it took quite a while to get things published a couple of centuries ago also. In any case, I didn’t know of this work’s existence until this concert season.
I wholeheartedly agree this piece is uniquely Beethoven. Even though I’m sure he didn’t use such tempo marking for a mass, there were quite a few passages of “Allegro con brio” in there. The demands on the chorus seemed particularly great, and the New York Choral Artists did very well. There were a couple of places (e.g., at the end of Gloria) that I really felt applauses were warranted.
The sections of the mass are: Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei. The words are standard, but I found the performance quite moving in a spiritual sense. While in college I knew this Christian friend who was offended when choirs sing sacred music to get people into a reflective mood. Some of that may be true, but I nonetheless don’t find that objectionable at all. This is after all the reason why sacred music gets written.
The concertmaster Glen Dicterow played the solo violin in Benedictus. It was a bit unsteady and disappointing. For someone with perfect pitch (per an earlier Program Notes) he certainly missed quite a few notes. The overall movement was still quite enjoyable.
Gilbert claims there are these secular elements in the music to make one wonder if there were hints of Beethoven searching for his relationship with faith. He points to the military elements in Agnus Dei as examples of “secular elements seem[ing] to take over.” There are indeed march-like phrases, but I don’t think they are nearly strong enough to make Gilbert’s case. I realize I am making this statement after hearing the music once, while Gilbert studied it carefully.
A few interesting items. There was this lady cellist sitting next to the principal, we wonder if she was auditioning for a job. Also, Thomas Stacey, who usually plays the English Horn, was playing the oboe for the Beethoven piece. I am sure he is quite good at it, just that I had never seen it until now. This piece was last performed by the New York Philharmonic in 1999, and Christine Brewer sang the soprano part also.
The New York Times gave the Beethoven performance a generally positive review. The review of the Lindberg piece was a bit more mixed.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra – Opera-in-concert; Edo de Waart, conductor. May 15, 2010.
Hong Kong Cultural Center Concert Hall, Balcony (Seat B132, HK$280).
Program
Fidelio, Op. 72 by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827).
Story. Leonore’s husband Florestan is imprisoned as a political prisoner by Don Pizarro. Leonore disguises herself as Fidelio and gets a job at the prison. Pizarro asks Rocco to murder Florestan upon hearing the visit by the Minister of Justice Don Fernando. As Pizarro prepares to kill Florestan, Fernando appears and orders the release of the prisoner.
Cast. Leonore/Fidelio – Susan Bullock, Florestan – Simon O’Neill, Rocco – Kristinn Sigmundsson, Marzelline – Lisa Larsson, Don Pizarro – Eike Wilm Schulte, Don Fernando – Andrew Foster-Williams. Shanghai Opera House Choir, Martin Wright, Chorus master and vocal coach.
Fidelio is the only opera Beethoven wrote. He was supposedly only interested in serious stories and detested works such as Don Giovanni and The Marriage of Figaro because he considered them frivolous. On this point I somewhat agree with Beethoven as I find comedic operas generally a less than satisfactory experience. Beethoven also recognized his shortcomings as an operatic composer as this work was revised a couple of times.
Despite the program notes claim that this is a huge and lasting success, I have never come across a staged performance and this is the first opera-in-concert I ever encountered. The Leonore Overtures, on the other hand, are standard orchestra repertoire.
In tonight’s performance the Overture started very well with the strings playing crisply in unison. However, the horns sounded very tentative when they first came in, although they improved as the program proceeded.
Given the stage and where the conductor, the orchestra, and the cast were, it is difficult to see how the singers got their cues from the conductor. But they managed, probably with the help of the TV monitors placed at the back of the auditorium. The auditorium seats about 2000 people, it feels quite intimate as the balcony (which has about ½ the seats) surrounds the stage. A good part of the balcony was blocked off, part empty and part used by the chorus.
During Act 1 the performance wasn’t particularly impressive. Pizarro especially couldn’t project his voice. Neither did Susan Bullock do well as Fidelio. The program notes describes her as an accomplished Wagner singer, I wonder how she manages as Brunnhilde or Isolde with such a weak voice, or is the acoustics in the Concert Hall so bad? Interestingly, a lot of the music sounded like Mozart, which is reasonable to expect given the musical heritage of those days. But I wonder how Beethoven would react if this was pointed out to him.
This is the second staged opera I have heard (the other being Berlioz’s Faust). Even though there was some acting involved, there was no sense of anguish in the singing. I needed the crutch of seeing the inside of a prison cell, perhaps. Another interesting fact is that the English and Chinese surtitles were often different. They conveyed the meaning quite well, but can’t be exact translations of the original German text.
I took a more center seat after the intermission, and the acoustics sounded much better there. My revised opinion was probably caused by the long “God” sung by Florestan when he first appeared. Unfortunately the brass still sounded tentative. And I saw the narrator sitting at a desk! Florestan was wearing tails, a first for a prisoner, I’m sure. A trio sung by Rocco, Leonore, and Florestan was one of the few moving scenes for the entire opera. One thing I noticed was that Florestan sang towards the balcony while most other singers sang towards the lower level, that may explain why most of them sounded weak. You would think the first thing they teach is to sing to the entire audience.
All in all, however, Act 2 was much more enjoyable. Indeed I entertained the thought of leaving after the first act since I was a bit sleepy from jet lag and the wine I had during dinner. I am glad I stayed.
This was the first time I saw de Waart, and I enjoyed his conducting. Maybe he could be a bit more economical in his cues, but he seemed to generate a coherent and pleasant rendition of the opera. As for the opera itself, I am a bit disappointed.
Program
Fidelio, Op. 72 by Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827).
Story. Leonore’s husband Florestan is imprisoned as a political prisoner by Don Pizarro. Leonore disguises herself as Fidelio and gets a job at the prison. Pizarro asks Rocco to murder Florestan upon hearing the visit by the Minister of Justice Don Fernando. As Pizarro prepares to kill Florestan, Fernando appears and orders the release of the prisoner.
Cast. Leonore/Fidelio – Susan Bullock, Florestan – Simon O’Neill, Rocco – Kristinn Sigmundsson, Marzelline – Lisa Larsson, Don Pizarro – Eike Wilm Schulte, Don Fernando – Andrew Foster-Williams. Shanghai Opera House Choir, Martin Wright, Chorus master and vocal coach.
Fidelio is the only opera Beethoven wrote. He was supposedly only interested in serious stories and detested works such as Don Giovanni and The Marriage of Figaro because he considered them frivolous. On this point I somewhat agree with Beethoven as I find comedic operas generally a less than satisfactory experience. Beethoven also recognized his shortcomings as an operatic composer as this work was revised a couple of times.
Despite the program notes claim that this is a huge and lasting success, I have never come across a staged performance and this is the first opera-in-concert I ever encountered. The Leonore Overtures, on the other hand, are standard orchestra repertoire.
In tonight’s performance the Overture started very well with the strings playing crisply in unison. However, the horns sounded very tentative when they first came in, although they improved as the program proceeded.
Given the stage and where the conductor, the orchestra, and the cast were, it is difficult to see how the singers got their cues from the conductor. But they managed, probably with the help of the TV monitors placed at the back of the auditorium. The auditorium seats about 2000 people, it feels quite intimate as the balcony (which has about ½ the seats) surrounds the stage. A good part of the balcony was blocked off, part empty and part used by the chorus.
During Act 1 the performance wasn’t particularly impressive. Pizarro especially couldn’t project his voice. Neither did Susan Bullock do well as Fidelio. The program notes describes her as an accomplished Wagner singer, I wonder how she manages as Brunnhilde or Isolde with such a weak voice, or is the acoustics in the Concert Hall so bad? Interestingly, a lot of the music sounded like Mozart, which is reasonable to expect given the musical heritage of those days. But I wonder how Beethoven would react if this was pointed out to him.
This is the second staged opera I have heard (the other being Berlioz’s Faust). Even though there was some acting involved, there was no sense of anguish in the singing. I needed the crutch of seeing the inside of a prison cell, perhaps. Another interesting fact is that the English and Chinese surtitles were often different. They conveyed the meaning quite well, but can’t be exact translations of the original German text.
I took a more center seat after the intermission, and the acoustics sounded much better there. My revised opinion was probably caused by the long “God” sung by Florestan when he first appeared. Unfortunately the brass still sounded tentative. And I saw the narrator sitting at a desk! Florestan was wearing tails, a first for a prisoner, I’m sure. A trio sung by Rocco, Leonore, and Florestan was one of the few moving scenes for the entire opera. One thing I noticed was that Florestan sang towards the balcony while most other singers sang towards the lower level, that may explain why most of them sounded weak. You would think the first thing they teach is to sing to the entire audience.
All in all, however, Act 2 was much more enjoyable. Indeed I entertained the thought of leaving after the first act since I was a bit sleepy from jet lag and the wine I had during dinner. I am glad I stayed.
This was the first time I saw de Waart, and I enjoyed his conducting. Maybe he could be a bit more economical in his cues, but he seemed to generate a coherent and pleasant rendition of the opera. As for the opera itself, I am a bit disappointed.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
Hong Kong Chinese Orchestra – Yan Huichang, conductor; Wong Chi-ching, pipa; Akiko Suwanai, violin. May 8, 2010.
Hong Kong City Hall Concert Hall, Rear Stalls (Seat R7, HK$250).
Program
Three Melodies of West Yunnan by Guo Wenjing.
A Thousand Sweeps by Law Wing-fai.
Violin Concerto, The Butterfly Lovers, by He Zhanhao and Chen Gang.
The Yellow River Capriccio by Cheng Dazhao.
I do not know much about Chinese music. Even though I grew up in Hong Kong, most people I knew would associate music with western music. At my high school we did have many classmates who learned Chinese music instruments – I still remember a friend demonstrating how the pipa was played – and I am quite sure there was a Chinese Orchestra. Nonetheless my exposure to Chinese music has been the occasional Chinese opera, several different kinds of instruments, and some knowledge of the theory behind most of it (such as the pentatonic scale.)
This performance challenged most of my belief and prior knowledge about the genre (if I may call it that). For example, there are many “hu” instruments ranging in pitch from the high “gao hu” to the low “bass gehu”. To me they parallel those of a western orchestra (violin and bass strings for gaohu and bass gehu, for instance). The seating arrangement of the orchestra section parallels that of a western orchestra. The only significant deviation is the many plucked strings represented in the Chinese Orchestra. Some instruments are western (timpani, bass drum) and some are borrowed by western music (the gong and the whip).
In that sense the performance was very much like a western orchestra playing Chinese music; in this case the sounds were more oriental and individual techniques can be quite different. The way the music is conducted is quite western also, except in the case of Yan there was a lot more movement and cues to the sections.
The first piece was commissioned by this Orchestra, with the first two movements (A Va Mountain; Jino Dance) composed in 1994 and the last (Sacrifice – Torches – Potent Liquors) completed considerably later in late 2008. I went to Yunnan recently and wouldn't have associated the piece with that region. The music sounded quite dissonant at various times and instead of feeling unresolved I just wished it didn't sound as “grating” as it did. While one could hear the “tonic” note quite easily, there was none of this pentatonic stuff.
The pipa soloist is a member of the orchestra. She clearly seems to be a master at the instrument, but the instrument evidently calls for limited types of techniques like strumming and pushing the strings along the frets, and the occasional harmonic note. And the pipa probably works better when played by itself. It was heard clearly when played by itself and was often drowned out by the orchestra especially during the louder passages.
The Butterfly Lovers is a popular violin concerto, originally written for the violin and a western orchestra. It has been arranged for different solo instruments and ensembles, tonight's edition premiered in 1978 by this orchestra.
Akiko Suwanai comes with great credentials: youngest ever winner of the International Tchaikovsky Competition, student at Julliard, and the 1714 Stradivarius “Dolphin” once owned by Jascha Heifetz. She played well, but not perfect. Some passages are difficult, but shouldn't present as much problems as they did for her.
I hadn't heard the entire concerto for a while and was surprised that while the music contains many nice melodies, the overall construction of the concert leaves quite a bit to be desired. The composers couldn't quite string the melodies together the way Dvorak could with the New World Symphony, for instance. The three sections are played through without a break. They parallel the famous folklore of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. The Introduction and Exposition section represents the brotherly pledge of Liang and Zhu (who disguised herself as a boy so she could study); the Development describes Zhu's refusal to enter into a pre-arranged marriage; the Recapitulation pictures how the two lovers turn into butterflies by reintroducing the original love theme.
There is this rather long discussion in the program notes about why the angst of the Hong Kong and Macau people led to the popularity of the piece in the two cities. I was a teenager when all this happened and can say nothing is further from the truth. I would say the piece was popular because the rather simple taste of the concert-going audience just lapped up the melodies. Remember Hong Kong was called a “cultural desert” at that time. Certainly in the 60s there was no such thing as a torn national identity among the young people (I attended a rather influential high school, with Dr. Sun Yat-sen being an alumnus of the school.) We thought of ourselves as Chinese ruled by benevolent British colonialists and were deathly afraid of the communists in Mainland China. In Chinese parlance, what the annotator did can be considered revisionist.
The fourth piece was supposed to describe how meandering the Yellow River it. There were quite a few passages where the suo-na played an important part. The instrument looks like something between a trumpet and a clarinet and – to me – produces a sound that is simply aweful. It reminds me of a Chinese funeral dirge.
Three encore pieces were played. The first two were “Ever Upward” and “Eagle Shooter”. The third one was (I think, didn't hear Yan clearly) “Filled up with Blessings.” Yan engaged the audience in playing the little drums were were handed, and to shout “hu” and “ha” as part of the performance. I must say he was quite good at getting the audience involved.
I have mixed feelings about the concert. I am of the belief that any thing done at the highest level is amazing to the observer. It may well be true in this case, and there are occasions when I watched in awe; in general, though, I left the concert feeling something was lacking.
Program
Three Melodies of West Yunnan by Guo Wenjing.
A Thousand Sweeps by Law Wing-fai.
Violin Concerto, The Butterfly Lovers, by He Zhanhao and Chen Gang.
The Yellow River Capriccio by Cheng Dazhao.
I do not know much about Chinese music. Even though I grew up in Hong Kong, most people I knew would associate music with western music. At my high school we did have many classmates who learned Chinese music instruments – I still remember a friend demonstrating how the pipa was played – and I am quite sure there was a Chinese Orchestra. Nonetheless my exposure to Chinese music has been the occasional Chinese opera, several different kinds of instruments, and some knowledge of the theory behind most of it (such as the pentatonic scale.)
This performance challenged most of my belief and prior knowledge about the genre (if I may call it that). For example, there are many “hu” instruments ranging in pitch from the high “gao hu” to the low “bass gehu”. To me they parallel those of a western orchestra (violin and bass strings for gaohu and bass gehu, for instance). The seating arrangement of the orchestra section parallels that of a western orchestra. The only significant deviation is the many plucked strings represented in the Chinese Orchestra. Some instruments are western (timpani, bass drum) and some are borrowed by western music (the gong and the whip).
In that sense the performance was very much like a western orchestra playing Chinese music; in this case the sounds were more oriental and individual techniques can be quite different. The way the music is conducted is quite western also, except in the case of Yan there was a lot more movement and cues to the sections.
The first piece was commissioned by this Orchestra, with the first two movements (A Va Mountain; Jino Dance) composed in 1994 and the last (Sacrifice – Torches – Potent Liquors) completed considerably later in late 2008. I went to Yunnan recently and wouldn't have associated the piece with that region. The music sounded quite dissonant at various times and instead of feeling unresolved I just wished it didn't sound as “grating” as it did. While one could hear the “tonic” note quite easily, there was none of this pentatonic stuff.
The pipa soloist is a member of the orchestra. She clearly seems to be a master at the instrument, but the instrument evidently calls for limited types of techniques like strumming and pushing the strings along the frets, and the occasional harmonic note. And the pipa probably works better when played by itself. It was heard clearly when played by itself and was often drowned out by the orchestra especially during the louder passages.
The Butterfly Lovers is a popular violin concerto, originally written for the violin and a western orchestra. It has been arranged for different solo instruments and ensembles, tonight's edition premiered in 1978 by this orchestra.
Akiko Suwanai comes with great credentials: youngest ever winner of the International Tchaikovsky Competition, student at Julliard, and the 1714 Stradivarius “Dolphin” once owned by Jascha Heifetz. She played well, but not perfect. Some passages are difficult, but shouldn't present as much problems as they did for her.
I hadn't heard the entire concerto for a while and was surprised that while the music contains many nice melodies, the overall construction of the concert leaves quite a bit to be desired. The composers couldn't quite string the melodies together the way Dvorak could with the New World Symphony, for instance. The three sections are played through without a break. They parallel the famous folklore of Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. The Introduction and Exposition section represents the brotherly pledge of Liang and Zhu (who disguised herself as a boy so she could study); the Development describes Zhu's refusal to enter into a pre-arranged marriage; the Recapitulation pictures how the two lovers turn into butterflies by reintroducing the original love theme.
There is this rather long discussion in the program notes about why the angst of the Hong Kong and Macau people led to the popularity of the piece in the two cities. I was a teenager when all this happened and can say nothing is further from the truth. I would say the piece was popular because the rather simple taste of the concert-going audience just lapped up the melodies. Remember Hong Kong was called a “cultural desert” at that time. Certainly in the 60s there was no such thing as a torn national identity among the young people (I attended a rather influential high school, with Dr. Sun Yat-sen being an alumnus of the school.) We thought of ourselves as Chinese ruled by benevolent British colonialists and were deathly afraid of the communists in Mainland China. In Chinese parlance, what the annotator did can be considered revisionist.
The fourth piece was supposed to describe how meandering the Yellow River it. There were quite a few passages where the suo-na played an important part. The instrument looks like something between a trumpet and a clarinet and – to me – produces a sound that is simply aweful. It reminds me of a Chinese funeral dirge.
Three encore pieces were played. The first two were “Ever Upward” and “Eagle Shooter”. The third one was (I think, didn't hear Yan clearly) “Filled up with Blessings.” Yan engaged the audience in playing the little drums were were handed, and to shout “hu” and “ha” as part of the performance. I must say he was quite good at getting the audience involved.
I have mixed feelings about the concert. I am of the belief that any thing done at the highest level is amazing to the observer. It may well be true in this case, and there are occasions when I watched in awe; in general, though, I left the concert feeling something was lacking.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Metropolitan Opera – Rossini’s Armida. April 27, 2010.
Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Dress Circle Seat D4 ($102.50).
Story. The Crusades are marching onto Jerusalem to try to free the city. Their leader has recently died and they elect Rinaldo as the new leader. The sorceress Armida together with her uncle Idraote disguise themselves as the rightful ruler of Damascus and her attendant and approach them, trying to enslave some of the soldiers. When Armida sees Rinaldo, she realizes he is the one she has been in love with. Gernando, jealous of Rinaldo’s promotion, insults Rinaldo as a womanizer. The two duel and Rinaldo kills Gernando. The soldiers turn against Rinaldo and he flees with Armida. The two then go to a ghastly forest which is transformed by Armida into a pleasure palace. Rinaldo is completely enchanted by Armida and decides he won’t leave even after Armida tells him of the plot. Meanwhile, the two knights sent to rescue Rinaldo find him after warding off nymphs trying to seduce them. They convince Rinaldo to leave with them. When Armida reaches the three soldiers, she pleads with Rinaldo, even agreeing to go into battle with him. But Renaldo eventually decides to leave. Armida then has to choose between love and vengeance; she chooses vengeance.
Conductor – Riccardo Frizza; Armida – Renee Fleming, Rinaldo – Lawrence Brownlee, Goffredo (commander of the Crusades) and his brother Eustazi – John Osborn and Yeghishe Manucharyan, Idraote – Peter Volpe, Gernando – Barry Banks (substituting for Jose Manuel Zapata, who is ill), Ubaldo – Kobie van Rensburg, Carlo – Barry Banks.
The story I summarized above is quite long, so is the opera. With two 25 or so minute intermissions, the program was 3 hours and 45 minutes. We thought we would be able to make it home by midnight, but they were fixing the helix and we had to make a longish detour, so it was close to 12:30 am when we got home. Nonetheless, it was a good opera to see.
Surprisingly, this was the first time the Met produced this opera. Tonight’s was the fifth performance. I am sure, just as with Rusalka and Thais, this was done because Renee Fleming could do it. And she did demonstrate her capability as an opera singer. We heard some people complain her voice was at times a bit weak, but I thought she had the right dynamics, managed to convey a full range of emotions, and great voice range and technique. I wish I had read the program notes beforehand as it talks about how difficult it is to do a crescendo on an ascending scale. And her appoggiaturas were handled with ease. I am sure many of the things I find amazing are within the grasp of a talented and hardworking singer, but she did put them together in one of her better than usual performances. Indeed during some instances it was tough to hear her above the orchestra or the chorus, but her voice in most instances managed to come through. I still caught a couple of instances she had to test a note (for pitch, I assume) before stressing it.
Her acting abilities were not quite up to her singing abilities, though. Now this is a pretty unusual opera in that there is only one female soloist against many male soloists (with Rinaldo being the lead). Female voices were limited to a couple of choruses. Fleming is thus called upon to carry a great chunk of the opera along, doing quite a few solos along the way. Sometimes her acting would be nothing more than waving her arms around this way or that way. I can’t fault her too much for this as the demands on her are great.
Brownlee is a young tenor from Youngstown, Ohio who did very well. If you just listen to him, you will think he is a seasoned artist, he actually debuted at the Met in 2007. Sometimes you feel he is not quite comfortable with someone with Fleming’s star power and thus acted awkwardly especially during the more intimate scenes. That will definitely improve with maturity.
One can quibble here or there, but the other singers (all male) all did quite well. I could with binoculars see how thick the conductor’s copy of music was, and it was in two volumes, if I am not mistaken. He spent as much time turning the pages as he did with waving the baton. The orchestra was at time unsteady, the solo violin during Act III was quite shaky.
The set was a bit too simple, especially by Met standards. It basically consisted of this wall with arches. To remind us the pleasure palace in Act II was only an illusion, they had a giant spider hanging on the wall. Flowers were represented by bundled up silk cloth on sticks. The only thing that looked real was the coffin of the dead leader they brought out at the beginning. The ballet scene in Act II was a bit long. Perhaps Rossini wanted to show he could write ballet music (I certainly wouldn’t have doubted him), but it didn’t add a lot to the story.
The ending of the story didn’t bring the story to a satisfying conclusion. While it showed Armida struggling between love and vengeance - represented by a dancer (Cupid) in a red dress with a bow and arrow and a bare-chested man with a scorpion’s sting as his head gear – we are not sure what the actual choice means. Will Armida pursue Rinaldo and destroy him, or will she be consumed with hatred and end up self-destructing, we are left wondering.
Overall the opera is very enjoyable with much of the music hummable. I continue to wonder why it isn’t done more often. I am sure they are many equally competent sopranos who can get the job done.
The New York Time review also describes Fleming’s performance as cautious, although the reviewer cited different examples. He is quite positive on the singers overall, but quite critical of the production. I am a bit confused as to his opinion as he called it “fanciful” at the beginning but calling the tone “unclear” later in the review.
Story. The Crusades are marching onto Jerusalem to try to free the city. Their leader has recently died and they elect Rinaldo as the new leader. The sorceress Armida together with her uncle Idraote disguise themselves as the rightful ruler of Damascus and her attendant and approach them, trying to enslave some of the soldiers. When Armida sees Rinaldo, she realizes he is the one she has been in love with. Gernando, jealous of Rinaldo’s promotion, insults Rinaldo as a womanizer. The two duel and Rinaldo kills Gernando. The soldiers turn against Rinaldo and he flees with Armida. The two then go to a ghastly forest which is transformed by Armida into a pleasure palace. Rinaldo is completely enchanted by Armida and decides he won’t leave even after Armida tells him of the plot. Meanwhile, the two knights sent to rescue Rinaldo find him after warding off nymphs trying to seduce them. They convince Rinaldo to leave with them. When Armida reaches the three soldiers, she pleads with Rinaldo, even agreeing to go into battle with him. But Renaldo eventually decides to leave. Armida then has to choose between love and vengeance; she chooses vengeance.
Conductor – Riccardo Frizza; Armida – Renee Fleming, Rinaldo – Lawrence Brownlee, Goffredo (commander of the Crusades) and his brother Eustazi – John Osborn and Yeghishe Manucharyan, Idraote – Peter Volpe, Gernando – Barry Banks (substituting for Jose Manuel Zapata, who is ill), Ubaldo – Kobie van Rensburg, Carlo – Barry Banks.
The story I summarized above is quite long, so is the opera. With two 25 or so minute intermissions, the program was 3 hours and 45 minutes. We thought we would be able to make it home by midnight, but they were fixing the helix and we had to make a longish detour, so it was close to 12:30 am when we got home. Nonetheless, it was a good opera to see.
Surprisingly, this was the first time the Met produced this opera. Tonight’s was the fifth performance. I am sure, just as with Rusalka and Thais, this was done because Renee Fleming could do it. And she did demonstrate her capability as an opera singer. We heard some people complain her voice was at times a bit weak, but I thought she had the right dynamics, managed to convey a full range of emotions, and great voice range and technique. I wish I had read the program notes beforehand as it talks about how difficult it is to do a crescendo on an ascending scale. And her appoggiaturas were handled with ease. I am sure many of the things I find amazing are within the grasp of a talented and hardworking singer, but she did put them together in one of her better than usual performances. Indeed during some instances it was tough to hear her above the orchestra or the chorus, but her voice in most instances managed to come through. I still caught a couple of instances she had to test a note (for pitch, I assume) before stressing it.
Her acting abilities were not quite up to her singing abilities, though. Now this is a pretty unusual opera in that there is only one female soloist against many male soloists (with Rinaldo being the lead). Female voices were limited to a couple of choruses. Fleming is thus called upon to carry a great chunk of the opera along, doing quite a few solos along the way. Sometimes her acting would be nothing more than waving her arms around this way or that way. I can’t fault her too much for this as the demands on her are great.
Brownlee is a young tenor from Youngstown, Ohio who did very well. If you just listen to him, you will think he is a seasoned artist, he actually debuted at the Met in 2007. Sometimes you feel he is not quite comfortable with someone with Fleming’s star power and thus acted awkwardly especially during the more intimate scenes. That will definitely improve with maturity.
One can quibble here or there, but the other singers (all male) all did quite well. I could with binoculars see how thick the conductor’s copy of music was, and it was in two volumes, if I am not mistaken. He spent as much time turning the pages as he did with waving the baton. The orchestra was at time unsteady, the solo violin during Act III was quite shaky.
The set was a bit too simple, especially by Met standards. It basically consisted of this wall with arches. To remind us the pleasure palace in Act II was only an illusion, they had a giant spider hanging on the wall. Flowers were represented by bundled up silk cloth on sticks. The only thing that looked real was the coffin of the dead leader they brought out at the beginning. The ballet scene in Act II was a bit long. Perhaps Rossini wanted to show he could write ballet music (I certainly wouldn’t have doubted him), but it didn’t add a lot to the story.
The ending of the story didn’t bring the story to a satisfying conclusion. While it showed Armida struggling between love and vengeance - represented by a dancer (Cupid) in a red dress with a bow and arrow and a bare-chested man with a scorpion’s sting as his head gear – we are not sure what the actual choice means. Will Armida pursue Rinaldo and destroy him, or will she be consumed with hatred and end up self-destructing, we are left wondering.
Overall the opera is very enjoyable with much of the music hummable. I continue to wonder why it isn’t done more often. I am sure they are many equally competent sopranos who can get the job done.
The New York Time review also describes Fleming’s performance as cautious, although the reviewer cited different examples. He is quite positive on the singers overall, but quite critical of the production. I am a bit confused as to his opinion as he called it “fanciful” at the beginning but calling the tone “unclear” later in the review.
Monday, April 12, 2010
New York Philharmonic – Antonio Pappano, Conductor; Joshua Bell, Violin. April 10, 2010.
Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra 2 (Seat Z13, $59).
Program
Symphony No. 31 in D major, Paris, K.297/300a (1778) by Mozart (1756-91).
Scottish Fantasy for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 46 (1879-80) by Bruch (1838-1920).
Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98 (1884-85) by Brahms (1833-97).
On our way to New York we were listening to one of Mozart's later symphonies on WQXR, and I remarked that it was a bit long for Mozart. I was “vindicated” by tonight’s Symphony as it was only 16 minutes in length per the program. It was actually a bit longer than that, perhaps a whopping 17 minutes.
Tonight’s conductor is with The Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, and is the youngest person to have been appointed to that position. Per Wikepedia, Pappano was born in December 1959, making him only 50 years old.
I had never seen anyone conduct Mozart with as much gusto as Pappano. He was very into it, waving his arms, shaking his legs (no kidding), moving briskly from one side of the podium to the other. The orchestra responded with a very spirited rendition of the piece. I somewhat doubted whether he needed all the motion to get the sound he wanted. However, it was a very enjoyable performance.
This symphony was written when Mozart was in Paris. In deference to French taste (I guess), the concerto has only three movements: Allegro assai, Andante, and Allegro. There was this interesting discussion on whether the second movement was the original one (which everyone had assumed until 1981) or the one revised at the request of Jean Le Gros, the director of the Concert Spirituel. I guess for someone like me the issue would be how does the other one sound like. Mozart wrote this when he was 22, after a hiatus of 3 ½ years; since this is Symphony No. 31, that means he had written 30 before he turned 19!
The Program Notes mentions that Bruch’s most famous violin work is his concerto in G minor. Since I have never seen this piece being played at the New York Philharmonic (or anywhere else for that matter), the question is why go with the Scottish Fantasy?
In any case, Bruch wrote this while he was angling for a job in Great Britain. He used may famous Scottish folk songs as the basis for this piece which is divided into four movements (or five, depending on how one counts the first one): Prelude: Grave – Adagio cantabile; Allegro; Andante sostenuto; Finale: Allegro guerriero. Perhaps it is where we sat, I found Joshua Bell and his Strad to be a bit on the weak side, not so much that I had to strain to hear him, but nonetheless I wish he had sounded clearer. This is undoubtedly a difficult piece, including a lot of double stops and harmonics; every now and then I detected an intonation problem. Looking back at my other blogs about his performances, I find out I had similar problems with him before also.
The Program Notes also contains an interesting discussion on the rivalry between the two eminent violinists of that time: Joachim and Sarasate, and that Bruch dedicated the piece to Sarasate even though Joachim was the one that gave him the most advice. One more fact, the piece when published was called “Fantasia for Violin with Orchestra and Harp, with Free Use of Scottish Folk Melodies.”
I didn’t recall what Brahm’s Fourth Symphony sounded like until I heard the opening phrases. I am quite sure I had played the piece before, but I am embarrassed to say the fourth movement didn’t sound familiar – perhaps I fell asleep during rehearsal? Pappano quieted down during the Bruch piece, but his energetic movements came back for this, which was way more appropriate than during Mozart. The Program Notes had an unusually detailed description of the movements: (i) Allegro no troppo: soaring and intense; (ii) Andante moderato: by turns agitated and serene; (iii) Allegro giocoso: first time Brahms included a real scherzo in a symphony, in contrast to the lighter allegretto intermezzos that had served as the third movements of his first three; and (iv) Allegro energico e passionate – Piu allegro: Brahms unleashes a gigantic passacaglia, a neo-Baroque structure in which an eight-measure progression (derived from the last movement of J.S. Bach’s Cantata No. 150) is subjected to 32 variations of widely varying character. The last movement looks interesting on paper, except I didn’t quite hear it that way.
The audience showed a lot of enthusiasm afterwards and gave Pappano a long applause. Speaking of which, the Program Notes seems to say during Mozart’s day people would make remarks as the music was being played; unimaginable today.
The New York Times has an insightful review of the performance, although I am not sure I am in full agreement with the reviewer’s points of view.
Program
Symphony No. 31 in D major, Paris, K.297/300a (1778) by Mozart (1756-91).
Scottish Fantasy for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 46 (1879-80) by Bruch (1838-1920).
Symphony No. 4 in E minor, Op. 98 (1884-85) by Brahms (1833-97).
On our way to New York we were listening to one of Mozart's later symphonies on WQXR, and I remarked that it was a bit long for Mozart. I was “vindicated” by tonight’s Symphony as it was only 16 minutes in length per the program. It was actually a bit longer than that, perhaps a whopping 17 minutes.
Tonight’s conductor is with The Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, and is the youngest person to have been appointed to that position. Per Wikepedia, Pappano was born in December 1959, making him only 50 years old.
I had never seen anyone conduct Mozart with as much gusto as Pappano. He was very into it, waving his arms, shaking his legs (no kidding), moving briskly from one side of the podium to the other. The orchestra responded with a very spirited rendition of the piece. I somewhat doubted whether he needed all the motion to get the sound he wanted. However, it was a very enjoyable performance.
This symphony was written when Mozart was in Paris. In deference to French taste (I guess), the concerto has only three movements: Allegro assai, Andante, and Allegro. There was this interesting discussion on whether the second movement was the original one (which everyone had assumed until 1981) or the one revised at the request of Jean Le Gros, the director of the Concert Spirituel. I guess for someone like me the issue would be how does the other one sound like. Mozart wrote this when he was 22, after a hiatus of 3 ½ years; since this is Symphony No. 31, that means he had written 30 before he turned 19!
The Program Notes mentions that Bruch’s most famous violin work is his concerto in G minor. Since I have never seen this piece being played at the New York Philharmonic (or anywhere else for that matter), the question is why go with the Scottish Fantasy?
In any case, Bruch wrote this while he was angling for a job in Great Britain. He used may famous Scottish folk songs as the basis for this piece which is divided into four movements (or five, depending on how one counts the first one): Prelude: Grave – Adagio cantabile; Allegro; Andante sostenuto; Finale: Allegro guerriero. Perhaps it is where we sat, I found Joshua Bell and his Strad to be a bit on the weak side, not so much that I had to strain to hear him, but nonetheless I wish he had sounded clearer. This is undoubtedly a difficult piece, including a lot of double stops and harmonics; every now and then I detected an intonation problem. Looking back at my other blogs about his performances, I find out I had similar problems with him before also.
The Program Notes also contains an interesting discussion on the rivalry between the two eminent violinists of that time: Joachim and Sarasate, and that Bruch dedicated the piece to Sarasate even though Joachim was the one that gave him the most advice. One more fact, the piece when published was called “Fantasia for Violin with Orchestra and Harp, with Free Use of Scottish Folk Melodies.”
I didn’t recall what Brahm’s Fourth Symphony sounded like until I heard the opening phrases. I am quite sure I had played the piece before, but I am embarrassed to say the fourth movement didn’t sound familiar – perhaps I fell asleep during rehearsal? Pappano quieted down during the Bruch piece, but his energetic movements came back for this, which was way more appropriate than during Mozart. The Program Notes had an unusually detailed description of the movements: (i) Allegro no troppo: soaring and intense; (ii) Andante moderato: by turns agitated and serene; (iii) Allegro giocoso: first time Brahms included a real scherzo in a symphony, in contrast to the lighter allegretto intermezzos that had served as the third movements of his first three; and (iv) Allegro energico e passionate – Piu allegro: Brahms unleashes a gigantic passacaglia, a neo-Baroque structure in which an eight-measure progression (derived from the last movement of J.S. Bach’s Cantata No. 150) is subjected to 32 variations of widely varying character. The last movement looks interesting on paper, except I didn’t quite hear it that way.
The audience showed a lot of enthusiasm afterwards and gave Pappano a long applause. Speaking of which, the Program Notes seems to say during Mozart’s day people would make remarks as the music was being played; unimaginable today.
The New York Times has an insightful review of the performance, although I am not sure I am in full agreement with the reviewer’s points of view.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Metropolitan Opera – Thomas’s Hamlet. March 27, 2010.
Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Dress Circle Seat F15 ($127.50).
Story. King Hamlet, Prince Hamlet’s father, was poisoned by his brother Claudius with the help of Queen Gertrude and Polonius (Ophelia’s father). As Claudius prepares to marry Gertrude, the King’s ghost appears to Hamlet to ask him to avenge his death. Hamlet stages a show during the banquet during which Claudius’s reaction convinces Hamlet that he is guilty. Bent on taking revenge, Hamlet ignores Ophelia who then commits suicide. As Ophelia’s funeral procession occurs, Hamlet kills her brother Laertes and is himself wounded. He manages also to kill Claudius before he dies from his wounds.
Conductor – Louis Langree; Claudius – James Morris, Gertrude – Jennifer Larmore, Prince Hamlet – Simon Keenlyside, Ophelie – Marlis Petersen, Laerte – Toby Spence.
I saw this opera by Ambroise Thomas several years ago in Covent Garden, and really liked it. So I jumped at the opportunity to see it again. It didn’t disappoint this second time around. My overall reaction is that the opera began a bit too slowly, but the pace picked up nicely after the intermission.
The story is based on the Shakespeare play depicting how being consumed with revenge can result in alienation and destruction. The “story” above doesn’t do justice to the complexity of the plot of the opera, and the opera itself changes and edits out many aspects of the play. We still get some of the more famous lines such as “Get thee to the nunnery” and “To be or not to be.” Of course I only found out about these lines from the subtitles as I don’t understand French.
The sets are quite minimal by Met standards. They are basically variations of two wall constructions that act as props for a castle and various rooms. Ophelia committed suicide by a river/lake, but there was no water. This is the only opera I recall that uses blood during the death scenes. While I don’t remember much of the Covent Garden performance, I do recall Ophelia bled when she died.
From where I sat, most of the singing was only adequate. The one exception is Ophelia whose voice carried well, even during the softer passages. When we saw Attila several weeks ago, we were seated a few rows closer to the stage, and wondered if there was sound enhancement. Well, today’s Program Notes says “without electronic devices”; that settles it for me. Another noteworthy thing is that none of the principal singers was overweight (well, Claudius a bit on the heavy side), so they worked quite well as actors also.
During the Covent Garden performance I thought the Ophelia “mad scene” during Act IV was a bit too long, even though it was quite moving. This time I didn’t think it was too long, but my reaction was less emotional. Perhaps knowing what is coming helps.
This opera premiered in Paris in 1868, and by the Met in the 1883-84 season (on tour in Cincinnati, and sung in Italian). It was last performed in 1897, more than 110 years ago. Given the quality of the composition, and how well-known Hamlet is, it is difficult to understand why. Changing taste of the audience alone doesn’t explain it. Indeed nowadays one can find Hamlet performed at various venues; herd mentality at work?
The New York Times review goes into quite a bit of detail about the various characters.
Story. King Hamlet, Prince Hamlet’s father, was poisoned by his brother Claudius with the help of Queen Gertrude and Polonius (Ophelia’s father). As Claudius prepares to marry Gertrude, the King’s ghost appears to Hamlet to ask him to avenge his death. Hamlet stages a show during the banquet during which Claudius’s reaction convinces Hamlet that he is guilty. Bent on taking revenge, Hamlet ignores Ophelia who then commits suicide. As Ophelia’s funeral procession occurs, Hamlet kills her brother Laertes and is himself wounded. He manages also to kill Claudius before he dies from his wounds.
Conductor – Louis Langree; Claudius – James Morris, Gertrude – Jennifer Larmore, Prince Hamlet – Simon Keenlyside, Ophelie – Marlis Petersen, Laerte – Toby Spence.
I saw this opera by Ambroise Thomas several years ago in Covent Garden, and really liked it. So I jumped at the opportunity to see it again. It didn’t disappoint this second time around. My overall reaction is that the opera began a bit too slowly, but the pace picked up nicely after the intermission.
The story is based on the Shakespeare play depicting how being consumed with revenge can result in alienation and destruction. The “story” above doesn’t do justice to the complexity of the plot of the opera, and the opera itself changes and edits out many aspects of the play. We still get some of the more famous lines such as “Get thee to the nunnery” and “To be or not to be.” Of course I only found out about these lines from the subtitles as I don’t understand French.
The sets are quite minimal by Met standards. They are basically variations of two wall constructions that act as props for a castle and various rooms. Ophelia committed suicide by a river/lake, but there was no water. This is the only opera I recall that uses blood during the death scenes. While I don’t remember much of the Covent Garden performance, I do recall Ophelia bled when she died.
From where I sat, most of the singing was only adequate. The one exception is Ophelia whose voice carried well, even during the softer passages. When we saw Attila several weeks ago, we were seated a few rows closer to the stage, and wondered if there was sound enhancement. Well, today’s Program Notes says “without electronic devices”; that settles it for me. Another noteworthy thing is that none of the principal singers was overweight (well, Claudius a bit on the heavy side), so they worked quite well as actors also.
During the Covent Garden performance I thought the Ophelia “mad scene” during Act IV was a bit too long, even though it was quite moving. This time I didn’t think it was too long, but my reaction was less emotional. Perhaps knowing what is coming helps.
This opera premiered in Paris in 1868, and by the Met in the 1883-84 season (on tour in Cincinnati, and sung in Italian). It was last performed in 1897, more than 110 years ago. Given the quality of the composition, and how well-known Hamlet is, it is difficult to understand why. Changing taste of the audience alone doesn’t explain it. Indeed nowadays one can find Hamlet performed at various venues; herd mentality at work?
The New York Times review goes into quite a bit of detail about the various characters.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The Mariinsky Ballet – Minkus's Don Quixote. March 23, 2010.
Hong Kong Cultural Centre Grand Theatre – Seat Stalls V31 (HK$493).
Story. Don Quixote and his aide Sancho Panza go about the world in search of heroic quests. They come to the aid of Basilio and Kitri whose love for one another is thwarted by Kitri’s father Lorenzo who favors Gamache. Basilio in a fight pretends to be dying and gets the blessing of Kitri’s father. He then marries Kitri. Don Quixote then goes in search of another quest.
Music – Ludwig Minkus; Choreographer – Alexander Gorsky after Marius Petipa; Gypsy and Oriental Dance Choreographer – Nina Anisimova; Libretto – Marius Petipa based on the novel by Miguel de Cervantes.
Conductor – Alexei Repnikov; Kitri – Anastasia Matvienko; Basilio – Denis Matvienko; Mercedes – Ryu Ji Yeon; Queen of Dryads – Tatyana Tkachenko; Don Quixote – Vladmir Ponomarev; Sancho Panza – Stanislav Burov; Lorenzo – Audrey Iakovlev; Gamache – Soslan Kulaev.
Our friend KS had a ticket for this concert but couldn’t go, so I gladly took her ticket. I had never gone to a ballet by myself, but since I was free that evening, I thought I would give it a try. As I reported in my previous posts, ballet is an art form I have yet to understand. I can appreciate the athleticism associated with the dancers, and much ballet music can stand on its own, it’s just I haven’t quite gotten how the two combined would qualify as a music performance. Alas, tonight’s program didn't help.
The music, by a composer I had never heard of, is light-weight and inconsequential. It reminds me of much film music; it provides background mood and, in case of ballets, the beat for the dancers to dance to. While the orchestra was quite sizeable, the music did not sound substantial at all. Just a collection of saccharine melodies.
I don’t know the full story very well. I am sure (and surely hope) the story told in this ballet is only a small snippet of the entire plot. It is written in such a way that there are lots of excuses for the dancers to do their thing. This includes the dream sequence with the dryads, which in my opinion salvaged the entire ballet as it offered a chance for a classical routine, complete with women dancers in tutus.
If I recall correctly, we actually went to the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Peterburg in the early 1990s and saw the Kirov Ballet perform. At that time we were quite impressed with how precise the dancers were: all their movements seem to be in sync. My subsequent exposure to ballet has been mostly to the NYC Ballet and the ABT, and a couple of performances of The Nutcracker during the holiday season. My observation, influenced heavily by what I hear and read, is that American ballet is more about the individual and thus the group performances are a bit lacking. After seeing this performance, I would say the ABT has nothing to worry about in that department. On the other hand, the individual dancers from the troupe are quite impressive. I counted at least 32 revolutions by Kitri, and 28 or so by Basilio. As I said, I have always been impressed by the dancers’ athleticism.
The show was about 2:45 hours in length. They had to put in two intermissions of about 30 minutes each (billed as 25 minutes), one of them after a 25-minute performance. Many in the audience thought they could have moved on at a faster pace. The sets and costumes were quite elaborate. They even had a white horse appear twice. During the second intermission I had to go to the 7-11 down the street to buy a sandwich, and saw the white horse being carted away in a jockey club trailer.
Overall, Don Quixote is like Le Cosair. Both are written so dancers can have excuses to show their craft. Except in the case of Don Quixote, the comparison with the Broadway show “The Man from La Mancha” is inevitable. We saw this a few years ago, the story is quite forgettable, with Don Quixote also holding forth his sword/lance in a rather asinine fashion. However, in the musical there are at least several nice tunes, including the well-known “To dream an impossible dream.”
This performance was part of the 38th Hong Kong Arts Festival. I wonder if it is worth it to visit Hong Kong during this time next year?
Story. Don Quixote and his aide Sancho Panza go about the world in search of heroic quests. They come to the aid of Basilio and Kitri whose love for one another is thwarted by Kitri’s father Lorenzo who favors Gamache. Basilio in a fight pretends to be dying and gets the blessing of Kitri’s father. He then marries Kitri. Don Quixote then goes in search of another quest.
Music – Ludwig Minkus; Choreographer – Alexander Gorsky after Marius Petipa; Gypsy and Oriental Dance Choreographer – Nina Anisimova; Libretto – Marius Petipa based on the novel by Miguel de Cervantes.
Conductor – Alexei Repnikov; Kitri – Anastasia Matvienko; Basilio – Denis Matvienko; Mercedes – Ryu Ji Yeon; Queen of Dryads – Tatyana Tkachenko; Don Quixote – Vladmir Ponomarev; Sancho Panza – Stanislav Burov; Lorenzo – Audrey Iakovlev; Gamache – Soslan Kulaev.
Our friend KS had a ticket for this concert but couldn’t go, so I gladly took her ticket. I had never gone to a ballet by myself, but since I was free that evening, I thought I would give it a try. As I reported in my previous posts, ballet is an art form I have yet to understand. I can appreciate the athleticism associated with the dancers, and much ballet music can stand on its own, it’s just I haven’t quite gotten how the two combined would qualify as a music performance. Alas, tonight’s program didn't help.
The music, by a composer I had never heard of, is light-weight and inconsequential. It reminds me of much film music; it provides background mood and, in case of ballets, the beat for the dancers to dance to. While the orchestra was quite sizeable, the music did not sound substantial at all. Just a collection of saccharine melodies.
I don’t know the full story very well. I am sure (and surely hope) the story told in this ballet is only a small snippet of the entire plot. It is written in such a way that there are lots of excuses for the dancers to do their thing. This includes the dream sequence with the dryads, which in my opinion salvaged the entire ballet as it offered a chance for a classical routine, complete with women dancers in tutus.
If I recall correctly, we actually went to the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Peterburg in the early 1990s and saw the Kirov Ballet perform. At that time we were quite impressed with how precise the dancers were: all their movements seem to be in sync. My subsequent exposure to ballet has been mostly to the NYC Ballet and the ABT, and a couple of performances of The Nutcracker during the holiday season. My observation, influenced heavily by what I hear and read, is that American ballet is more about the individual and thus the group performances are a bit lacking. After seeing this performance, I would say the ABT has nothing to worry about in that department. On the other hand, the individual dancers from the troupe are quite impressive. I counted at least 32 revolutions by Kitri, and 28 or so by Basilio. As I said, I have always been impressed by the dancers’ athleticism.
The show was about 2:45 hours in length. They had to put in two intermissions of about 30 minutes each (billed as 25 minutes), one of them after a 25-minute performance. Many in the audience thought they could have moved on at a faster pace. The sets and costumes were quite elaborate. They even had a white horse appear twice. During the second intermission I had to go to the 7-11 down the street to buy a sandwich, and saw the white horse being carted away in a jockey club trailer.
Overall, Don Quixote is like Le Cosair. Both are written so dancers can have excuses to show their craft. Except in the case of Don Quixote, the comparison with the Broadway show “The Man from La Mancha” is inevitable. We saw this a few years ago, the story is quite forgettable, with Don Quixote also holding forth his sword/lance in a rather asinine fashion. However, in the musical there are at least several nice tunes, including the well-known “To dream an impossible dream.”
This performance was part of the 38th Hong Kong Arts Festival. I wonder if it is worth it to visit Hong Kong during this time next year?
China National Symphony Orchestra – Michel Plasson, conductor. March 14, 2010.
Concert Hall at the National Centre for the Performing Arts, Beijing. Seat Level 1, Row 10, Seat 25 (CNY280).
Program
Symphony in D minor by Cesar Franck.
Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92, by Ludwig van Beethoven.
We are in China to visit a charitable organization, and found this concert which fit our schedule. David was with us also; he was the one who bought the tickets at the box office the day before. There are several reasons we could find this concert interesting: we have never seen the China National Symphony Orchestra; this is a relatively new concert hall, completed in 2007; my last experience at a Chinese Concert was quite interesting in that the audience felt free to chat during the performance; and the program is interesting. That a reasonably seat could be had for less than US$50 didn’t hurt either.
The Beijing Performing Arts Center (国家大剧院)
The Concert Hall is one of three auditoria in the Beijing Performing Arts Center. The main hall is the Opera House, and there is another auditorium for theater. All three are enclosed in this dome affectionately called “The Egg.” The Concert Hall, seating about 2000, has the orchestra in the “pit” surrounded by the audience, and feels rather intimate. The seats were quite comfortable. For tonight’s concert the hall was about 70% to 80% full by my estimation.
The orchestra members are by and large on the young side. Given the recent history of China, it is not surprising that there are not that many middle age players as it would be considered bourgeois for them to be playing western musical instruments during their teenage formative years. Which is a great pity. Another unexpected thing is the French conductor who is now leading the orchestra. The Program Notes would lead one to conclude he is now the Orchestra’s principal conductor; however, there is no mention of this fact either at the CNSO website, or the Wiki entry for Plasson. In any case, he was quite energetic for someone in his mid 70s (born October 1933).
I am reasonably familiar with Franck’s violin music, but this was the first time I heard the symphony. It sounds similar in that the themes are pleasant, but get repeated quite often. The dynamic range could be broader, though. The three movements are (i) Largo; (ii) Allegretto, ma non troppo; and (iii) Allegro non troppo.
The slow movement in Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony is made famous, deservedly, by the movie “Immortal Beloved.” The movement sounds very melancholic to me, with the violas playing a prominent role in the beginning. The entire symphony was done very well. The movements are (i) Poco sostenuto – Vivace; (ii) Allegretto; (iii) Presto; and (iv) Allegro con brio.
The acoustics, while okay, is surprisingly bland for such a new concert hall. I don’t know how to describe it except as lack of character: the sounds are clear, but not brilliant; the dynamic range is narrow (perhaps the orchestra?); and one doesn’t come away impressed. The applause from the audience was so tepid that I felt bad for the conductor. At least there was minimal talking during the performance, a great improvement from my last experience.
Someone was trying to use his cell phone to take a picture of the stage during the performance. A laser pointer shining on his device put an end to that rather quickly. A reminder of where we were.
They were also punctual. Started a few minutes after 7:30 pm, and the intermission was reasonably short. Overall I was glad to have attended this concert.
Program
Symphony in D minor by Cesar Franck.
Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92, by Ludwig van Beethoven.
We are in China to visit a charitable organization, and found this concert which fit our schedule. David was with us also; he was the one who bought the tickets at the box office the day before. There are several reasons we could find this concert interesting: we have never seen the China National Symphony Orchestra; this is a relatively new concert hall, completed in 2007; my last experience at a Chinese Concert was quite interesting in that the audience felt free to chat during the performance; and the program is interesting. That a reasonably seat could be had for less than US$50 didn’t hurt either.
The Beijing Performing Arts Center (国家大剧院)
The Concert Hall is one of three auditoria in the Beijing Performing Arts Center. The main hall is the Opera House, and there is another auditorium for theater. All three are enclosed in this dome affectionately called “The Egg.” The Concert Hall, seating about 2000, has the orchestra in the “pit” surrounded by the audience, and feels rather intimate. The seats were quite comfortable. For tonight’s concert the hall was about 70% to 80% full by my estimation.
The orchestra members are by and large on the young side. Given the recent history of China, it is not surprising that there are not that many middle age players as it would be considered bourgeois for them to be playing western musical instruments during their teenage formative years. Which is a great pity. Another unexpected thing is the French conductor who is now leading the orchestra. The Program Notes would lead one to conclude he is now the Orchestra’s principal conductor; however, there is no mention of this fact either at the CNSO website, or the Wiki entry for Plasson. In any case, he was quite energetic for someone in his mid 70s (born October 1933).
I am reasonably familiar with Franck’s violin music, but this was the first time I heard the symphony. It sounds similar in that the themes are pleasant, but get repeated quite often. The dynamic range could be broader, though. The three movements are (i) Largo; (ii) Allegretto, ma non troppo; and (iii) Allegro non troppo.
The slow movement in Beethoven’s Seventh Symphony is made famous, deservedly, by the movie “Immortal Beloved.” The movement sounds very melancholic to me, with the violas playing a prominent role in the beginning. The entire symphony was done very well. The movements are (i) Poco sostenuto – Vivace; (ii) Allegretto; (iii) Presto; and (iv) Allegro con brio.
The acoustics, while okay, is surprisingly bland for such a new concert hall. I don’t know how to describe it except as lack of character: the sounds are clear, but not brilliant; the dynamic range is narrow (perhaps the orchestra?); and one doesn’t come away impressed. The applause from the audience was so tepid that I felt bad for the conductor. At least there was minimal talking during the performance, a great improvement from my last experience.
Someone was trying to use his cell phone to take a picture of the stage during the performance. A laser pointer shining on his device put an end to that rather quickly. A reminder of where we were.
They were also punctual. Started a few minutes after 7:30 pm, and the intermission was reasonably short. Overall I was glad to have attended this concert.
Sunday, March 07, 2010
New York Philharmonic – Riccardo Muti, Conductor; Andras Schiff, Piano. March 5, 2010.
Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Tier 1 Center (Seat DD07, $59).
Program
Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor, Op. 15 (1858) by Brahms (1833-97).
Symphony in E-flat for Large Orchestra (1940) by Hindemith (1895-1963).
This was our fourth concert for the week, which must be some sort of a record for me. I still enjoyed the concert, but writing about it could get a bit tedious. We will see.
As I said in my last blog, Muti is spending about three weeks in Lincoln Center conducting Attila and a couple of New York Philharmonic concerts. We originally had tickets for the series next week with Repim playing the Beethoven violin concerto, but had to switch to this one as we will be away.
Brahms wrote two piano concertos, to me the more familiar one being the second with a serene opening. The first movement of tonight’s concert (Maestoso) began with a much faster paced statement and longish introduction by the orchestra, with the piano working its way in quietly about four minutes into the 23 plus minute movement. Having just heard a concert in Carnegie Hall, one immediately notices the difference in acoustics between that renowned concert hall and Avery Fisher. In the former you can hear each section (perhaps even instrument) clearly, here everything sounds a bit muddled. Orchestra seats may have better acoustics, but then all you see are the musicians seated in the front. In any case, Schiff was clearly in command of the music and the interplay between the soloist and the orchestra was very good. There were a couple of passages where he sounded weak and a bit flat, though. Probably because I slept through its playing (or skipped over it when heard on a CD), the second movement (Adagio) didn’t sound familiar at all. The Rondo – Allegro non troppo, began by the soloist, then followed in turn by various strings, got me back on track to enjoying the performance. While the piece was quite enjoyable overall, I didn’t quite get the excitement one should when one takes into account what the music could sound like.
Joachim, whom I knew collaborated with Brahms on his violin concerto, also helped with reassuring the composer that he had a good thing going. He also conducted the premiere of the work with Brahms as the soloist.
When I studied music theory at Cornell, the textbook we used (forget whether it was first or second year) was written by Paul Hindemith. I was sure he taught at Harvard, turns out it was Yale. The Program Notes has an interesting discussion on his background (fled Germany with the ascendancy of the Third Reich,) his ability to play many different instruments, and how the Minneapolis Symphony got to do the premiere because of hemming-and-hawing on the part of Boston Symphony. Commensurate with Hindemith’s decline in popularity, this symphony was last played by New York Philharmonic in 1967.
The symphony lives up to the description of being a “classically structured, four-movement symphony.” The first movement (Very lively) began with a brass introduction that sounded steady and assured, and proceeded at a very lively pace. The second movement (Very slowly) had the oboe and clarinet repeating many times what passes as a tune. The dominance moved to other parts of the orchestra, including horns and flutes. The third movement (Lively) saw the use of the rute which (I think) sounded like a whipped leather belt. The playing got crisper as the movement continued. But at some point the music began to wander – to be fair, it may be my mind that was doing the wandering – and eventually we knew we were in the fourth movement (Moderately fast half-notes) that ended in a march-like manner.
Muti was quite in command and seemed to get the response he needed from the orchestra. I wonder how I would enjoy the concert if the program had contained a more familiar piece than the Hindemith Symphony instead.
The New York Times reviewer was swept away by the Hindemith piece, despite his dislike of the third movement. He characterizes the New York Philharmonic performance as “brilliant.” Wow, wonders never cease.
Program
Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor, Op. 15 (1858) by Brahms (1833-97).
Symphony in E-flat for Large Orchestra (1940) by Hindemith (1895-1963).
This was our fourth concert for the week, which must be some sort of a record for me. I still enjoyed the concert, but writing about it could get a bit tedious. We will see.
As I said in my last blog, Muti is spending about three weeks in Lincoln Center conducting Attila and a couple of New York Philharmonic concerts. We originally had tickets for the series next week with Repim playing the Beethoven violin concerto, but had to switch to this one as we will be away.
Brahms wrote two piano concertos, to me the more familiar one being the second with a serene opening. The first movement of tonight’s concert (Maestoso) began with a much faster paced statement and longish introduction by the orchestra, with the piano working its way in quietly about four minutes into the 23 plus minute movement. Having just heard a concert in Carnegie Hall, one immediately notices the difference in acoustics between that renowned concert hall and Avery Fisher. In the former you can hear each section (perhaps even instrument) clearly, here everything sounds a bit muddled. Orchestra seats may have better acoustics, but then all you see are the musicians seated in the front. In any case, Schiff was clearly in command of the music and the interplay between the soloist and the orchestra was very good. There were a couple of passages where he sounded weak and a bit flat, though. Probably because I slept through its playing (or skipped over it when heard on a CD), the second movement (Adagio) didn’t sound familiar at all. The Rondo – Allegro non troppo, began by the soloist, then followed in turn by various strings, got me back on track to enjoying the performance. While the piece was quite enjoyable overall, I didn’t quite get the excitement one should when one takes into account what the music could sound like.
Joachim, whom I knew collaborated with Brahms on his violin concerto, also helped with reassuring the composer that he had a good thing going. He also conducted the premiere of the work with Brahms as the soloist.
When I studied music theory at Cornell, the textbook we used (forget whether it was first or second year) was written by Paul Hindemith. I was sure he taught at Harvard, turns out it was Yale. The Program Notes has an interesting discussion on his background (fled Germany with the ascendancy of the Third Reich,) his ability to play many different instruments, and how the Minneapolis Symphony got to do the premiere because of hemming-and-hawing on the part of Boston Symphony. Commensurate with Hindemith’s decline in popularity, this symphony was last played by New York Philharmonic in 1967.
The symphony lives up to the description of being a “classically structured, four-movement symphony.” The first movement (Very lively) began with a brass introduction that sounded steady and assured, and proceeded at a very lively pace. The second movement (Very slowly) had the oboe and clarinet repeating many times what passes as a tune. The dominance moved to other parts of the orchestra, including horns and flutes. The third movement (Lively) saw the use of the rute which (I think) sounded like a whipped leather belt. The playing got crisper as the movement continued. But at some point the music began to wander – to be fair, it may be my mind that was doing the wandering – and eventually we knew we were in the fourth movement (Moderately fast half-notes) that ended in a march-like manner.
Muti was quite in command and seemed to get the response he needed from the orchestra. I wonder how I would enjoy the concert if the program had contained a more familiar piece than the Hindemith Symphony instead.
The New York Times reviewer was swept away by the Hindemith piece, despite his dislike of the third movement. He characterizes the New York Philharmonic performance as “brilliant.” Wow, wonders never cease.
Friday, March 05, 2010
Metropolitan Opera – Verdi’s Attila. March 3, 2010.
Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Dress Circle Seat B102 ($147.50).
Story. Attila is laying siege to Rome and captures a group of Roman women including Odabella, daughter of the Lord of Aquileia. Attila is impressed by Odabella’s courage and gives her his sword. The Roman General Ezio offers to split the empire with Attila but is rejected. Odabella’s fiancée Foresto is with a group of Aquileian refugees. He mistakes Odabella’s decision to stay with Attila as a betrayal. During a banquet hosted by Attila with Ezio, Odabella and Foresto attending, the attempt by Uldino – Attila’s slave – to poison Attila is foiled by Odabella who wants to kill Attila herself. Foresto flees Attila and laments Odabella’s marriage to Attila. As the wedding preparation is underway, Odabella meets up with Foresto and Ezio. Attila happens upon the three and accuses them of disloyalty and ingratitude. Odabella stabs Attila to death.
Conductor – Riccardo Muti; Attila – Ildar Abdrazakov, Uldino – Russell Thomas, Odabella – Violeta Urmana, Ezio – Giovanni Meoni, Foresto – Ramon Vargas.
We exchanged tickets for some other opera for this because of scheduling conflicts. I didn’t know much about it until the afternoon of the concert when I got to read up the synopsis on the Met website. The story is straightforward enough, and I was expecting a straightforward experience, given this is one of Verdi’s earlier operas (9th out of 28).
Muti, who will start his CSO appointment next season, seems to be spending a lot of time in New York. We will be seeing him Friday conducting the New York Philharmonic, and he will conduct at least another New York Phil series the following week.
I was somewhat surprised by the opera. When the curtain was drawn up after a very nice but relatively short overture, what we saw was Attila standing amidst massive and brightly lit ruins. In front of the ruins were what I initially thought were dead bodies who ended singing a chorus. Impressive, even though I didn’t know people were using re-bars to build city walls during Attila’s time (5th century). That was one indication of how the designers wanted to make the staging “timeless.” Since Attila is a historical person (although this opera takes a lot of liberty with historical facts), having people wear jeans and heavy parkas just looks weird, not timeless. The other thing is his head gear actually had a group of small lights so it glows in the dark. Interesting, not sure it is germane or necessary.
Towards the end of the prolog, the entire set was raised and Foresto showed up with fellow Romans in the space below. The Met employed a similar technique in Aida (also Verdi) and it worked quite well there also. For subsequent scenes we had this as a regular arrangement. In a couple of them you have this wall of plants with holes on each side where the singers were, and a space underneath for the masses. From where we sat, with our poor eyesight, we couldn’t tell whether the plants were real, fake, or simply projections on a screen. My best guess is a combination as the holes were circled by some leaves, and yet the entire scene moves ala Damnation of Faust. My overall opinion is the overused the effect.
Per the program notes, this is the only Verdi opera where the protagonist role is sung by a bass. The bass Abdrazakov made the best of the opportunity. Although weak in some places, he in general sang well.
Urmana as Odabella needed some suspension of belief on the audience’s part. I have to comment on her hair which was made into this huge beehive (ala Marge Simpson), that, combined with her stature, made her more like a Brunnhilde rather than a princess. And she seems to have one volume setting: extra loud (I guess the proper term is fortissimo) while many passages call for much softer singing. Anne insists there were a few occasions in which she did that; I must have a different definition of “soft,” or simply fell asleep.
The Ezio role was sung by Meoni who substituted for the scheduled tenor Carlos Alvarez. He did well. While not outstanding, his performance was dependable and of uniform quality.
Several years ago Ramon Vargas seemed to be a fixture of the Met, playing quite a few roles. He has not appeared in any of my blogs which I started in 2005, so it’s been a while. I used to wonder why people thought he was good enough to sing regularly at the Met, now after a few years I think he has improved quite a bit. His voice is strong, and steady for the most part (that was my biggest complaint a few years ago.) However, his smallish stature, especially next to Obadella, also strains credibility.
Anne and I had a long discussion on whether a sound enhancement system was used. We base our question on several factors. The singers sounded very loud. We were relatively close to the stage (second role center Dress Circle), but not that close. There was a noticeable difference in the quality (loudness and timber) of the voices when the singers move from the right side of the stage to the left side. It was a bit disturbing as the changes were abrupt. I also wonder if the sound got reflected from the roof as it got louder if I tilted my head up. We couldn’t find any loudspeakers, though. And I thought people used to swear professional opera singers seldom used microphones and speakers.
Overall, while the opera lacks the dramatic effects and historical accuracy compared to the best in the genre, it is still a great Verdi work that can be enjoyed as a musical composition. This is the first ever series of performances of this opera at the Met. And we saw the third show. I enjoyed it, and wonder about how opera houses decide on what to produce.
The New York Times has an interesting article (I couldn’t find a review) on this opera. The Bloomberg review is quite interesting to read. It calls the libretto nonsensical, uses beehive to describe Urmana’s hair, and adds some insight into Muti, the Met, and La Scala.
Today (March 6) I found the New York Times review. The reviewer is very enthusiastic about Muti, various singers, and the opera. He also describes Odabella's hair as "Marge Simpson-y," and is a little critical of the set designs. No mention of the acoustics, though.
Story. Attila is laying siege to Rome and captures a group of Roman women including Odabella, daughter of the Lord of Aquileia. Attila is impressed by Odabella’s courage and gives her his sword. The Roman General Ezio offers to split the empire with Attila but is rejected. Odabella’s fiancée Foresto is with a group of Aquileian refugees. He mistakes Odabella’s decision to stay with Attila as a betrayal. During a banquet hosted by Attila with Ezio, Odabella and Foresto attending, the attempt by Uldino – Attila’s slave – to poison Attila is foiled by Odabella who wants to kill Attila herself. Foresto flees Attila and laments Odabella’s marriage to Attila. As the wedding preparation is underway, Odabella meets up with Foresto and Ezio. Attila happens upon the three and accuses them of disloyalty and ingratitude. Odabella stabs Attila to death.
Conductor – Riccardo Muti; Attila – Ildar Abdrazakov, Uldino – Russell Thomas, Odabella – Violeta Urmana, Ezio – Giovanni Meoni, Foresto – Ramon Vargas.
We exchanged tickets for some other opera for this because of scheduling conflicts. I didn’t know much about it until the afternoon of the concert when I got to read up the synopsis on the Met website. The story is straightforward enough, and I was expecting a straightforward experience, given this is one of Verdi’s earlier operas (9th out of 28).
Muti, who will start his CSO appointment next season, seems to be spending a lot of time in New York. We will be seeing him Friday conducting the New York Philharmonic, and he will conduct at least another New York Phil series the following week.
I was somewhat surprised by the opera. When the curtain was drawn up after a very nice but relatively short overture, what we saw was Attila standing amidst massive and brightly lit ruins. In front of the ruins were what I initially thought were dead bodies who ended singing a chorus. Impressive, even though I didn’t know people were using re-bars to build city walls during Attila’s time (5th century). That was one indication of how the designers wanted to make the staging “timeless.” Since Attila is a historical person (although this opera takes a lot of liberty with historical facts), having people wear jeans and heavy parkas just looks weird, not timeless. The other thing is his head gear actually had a group of small lights so it glows in the dark. Interesting, not sure it is germane or necessary.
Towards the end of the prolog, the entire set was raised and Foresto showed up with fellow Romans in the space below. The Met employed a similar technique in Aida (also Verdi) and it worked quite well there also. For subsequent scenes we had this as a regular arrangement. In a couple of them you have this wall of plants with holes on each side where the singers were, and a space underneath for the masses. From where we sat, with our poor eyesight, we couldn’t tell whether the plants were real, fake, or simply projections on a screen. My best guess is a combination as the holes were circled by some leaves, and yet the entire scene moves ala Damnation of Faust. My overall opinion is the overused the effect.
Per the program notes, this is the only Verdi opera where the protagonist role is sung by a bass. The bass Abdrazakov made the best of the opportunity. Although weak in some places, he in general sang well.
Urmana as Odabella needed some suspension of belief on the audience’s part. I have to comment on her hair which was made into this huge beehive (ala Marge Simpson), that, combined with her stature, made her more like a Brunnhilde rather than a princess. And she seems to have one volume setting: extra loud (I guess the proper term is fortissimo) while many passages call for much softer singing. Anne insists there were a few occasions in which she did that; I must have a different definition of “soft,” or simply fell asleep.
The Ezio role was sung by Meoni who substituted for the scheduled tenor Carlos Alvarez. He did well. While not outstanding, his performance was dependable and of uniform quality.
Several years ago Ramon Vargas seemed to be a fixture of the Met, playing quite a few roles. He has not appeared in any of my blogs which I started in 2005, so it’s been a while. I used to wonder why people thought he was good enough to sing regularly at the Met, now after a few years I think he has improved quite a bit. His voice is strong, and steady for the most part (that was my biggest complaint a few years ago.) However, his smallish stature, especially next to Obadella, also strains credibility.
Anne and I had a long discussion on whether a sound enhancement system was used. We base our question on several factors. The singers sounded very loud. We were relatively close to the stage (second role center Dress Circle), but not that close. There was a noticeable difference in the quality (loudness and timber) of the voices when the singers move from the right side of the stage to the left side. It was a bit disturbing as the changes were abrupt. I also wonder if the sound got reflected from the roof as it got louder if I tilted my head up. We couldn’t find any loudspeakers, though. And I thought people used to swear professional opera singers seldom used microphones and speakers.
Overall, while the opera lacks the dramatic effects and historical accuracy compared to the best in the genre, it is still a great Verdi work that can be enjoyed as a musical composition. This is the first ever series of performances of this opera at the Met. And we saw the third show. I enjoyed it, and wonder about how opera houses decide on what to produce.
The New York Times has an interesting article (I couldn’t find a review) on this opera. The Bloomberg review is quite interesting to read. It calls the libretto nonsensical, uses beehive to describe Urmana’s hair, and adds some insight into Muti, the Met, and La Scala.
Today (March 6) I found the New York Times review. The reviewer is very enthusiastic about Muti, various singers, and the opera. He also describes Odabella's hair as "Marge Simpson-y," and is a little critical of the set designs. No mention of the acoustics, though.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra – Riccardo Chailly, Conductor. Louis Lortie, Piano. February 28, 2010.
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, Section CB2 (Row E, Seat 114, $37).
Program
Piano Concerto No. 1 in E Minor, Op. 11 (1830) by Frederic Chopin (1810-1849).
Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73 (1877) by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897).
[Note: some additional comments added on 3/1/2010.]
Chung Shu & Shirley told us about the concert, and the drive up to NYC was quite easy today. Carnegie Hall is quite impressive inside, has much better acoustics than Avery Fisher Hall, but not without its short falls. The most obvious ones are not much space outside of the auditorium, little legroom in the seating area, and inadequate number of washrooms. At times the orchestra sound while clearly distinguishable, sounded a bit dull also, I wonder if it is the acoustics or the orchestra.
The orchestra claims to be the oldest civic concert orchestra in the world. It began in 1743 and given its current name in 1781 when it moved into the meetinghouse of the textile merchants (the “Gewandhaus”). Whatever the qualifying words after “oldest” mean, its still quite impressive. And it counts among its music directors Felix Mendelssohn and Bruno Walter.
Chopin’s Piano Concertos are familiar repertoire pieces, easy to listen to (not necessarily to play) and enjoy. Today’s performance was no exception. The first movement (Allegro maestoso) began with a longish introduction by the orchestra that was played crisply and with great dynamics. The piano also didn’t disappoint. Unfortunately the level was not matched by the second (Romance: Larghetto) and third (Rondo: Vivace) movements. The slow dreamlike movement instead of sounding muted was at times muddled, probably from too much pedaling. The good acoustics actually worked to the disadvantage of the orchestra in the third movement where every mistake a member made was amplified by the stage. There were too many instances of an instrument (usually the violin) playing too loudly, or coming in too fast, or the orchestra not ending a note precisely. I guess there were many pianists in the audience, and too many of them were moving with the music. It’s annoying when you notice them, and I also wonder how many of them think they can do a better job at the piece.
Louis Lortie played one of Chopin’s Nocturnes as an encore. [Note: A commenter on the blog states that this is a Chopin Etude.]
I played the Brahms Symphony as a member of Cornell Symphony in the mid 70s. Come to think of it, it may actually be at Carnegie Hall as part of our centennial tour! Although I haven’t heard it much since, I am still reasonably familiar with it. The four movements are (i) Allegro non troppo; (ii) Adagio non troppo); (iii) Allegretto grazioso (quasi andantino) and (iv) Allegro con spirito. The performance did not get off to an auspicious start with the unsteady French Horns. It did improve to a certain extent as the piece went on. However, there were quite a few fast passages that sounded out of control, verging on chaotic. The last movement (or more precisely, the last part of the last movement) was done well and generated tremendous applause. I don’t know if I missed the greatness of the performance, or this is a case of “this is Carnegie Hall, so everyone who plays here must be good.”
The orchestra played a Beethoven Egmont Overture as an encore. I actually appreciated this more than the actual performance.
One other thing, the same guy (I assume it is the regular concertmaster) led the orchestra for both the concerto and the symphony. There was none of this excusing oneself in deference of the guest soloist business. I wonder if this practice is limited to a few orchestras, or is suspended you are on tour. I guess I need to be a NY Phil groupie and see them during a tour to find out! Or wait for the BSO to play in our area.
Program
Piano Concerto No. 1 in E Minor, Op. 11 (1830) by Frederic Chopin (1810-1849).
Symphony No. 2 in D Major, Op. 73 (1877) by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897).
[Note: some additional comments added on 3/1/2010.]
Chung Shu & Shirley told us about the concert, and the drive up to NYC was quite easy today. Carnegie Hall is quite impressive inside, has much better acoustics than Avery Fisher Hall, but not without its short falls. The most obvious ones are not much space outside of the auditorium, little legroom in the seating area, and inadequate number of washrooms. At times the orchestra sound while clearly distinguishable, sounded a bit dull also, I wonder if it is the acoustics or the orchestra.
The orchestra claims to be the oldest civic concert orchestra in the world. It began in 1743 and given its current name in 1781 when it moved into the meetinghouse of the textile merchants (the “Gewandhaus”). Whatever the qualifying words after “oldest” mean, its still quite impressive. And it counts among its music directors Felix Mendelssohn and Bruno Walter.
Chopin’s Piano Concertos are familiar repertoire pieces, easy to listen to (not necessarily to play) and enjoy. Today’s performance was no exception. The first movement (Allegro maestoso) began with a longish introduction by the orchestra that was played crisply and with great dynamics. The piano also didn’t disappoint. Unfortunately the level was not matched by the second (Romance: Larghetto) and third (Rondo: Vivace) movements. The slow dreamlike movement instead of sounding muted was at times muddled, probably from too much pedaling. The good acoustics actually worked to the disadvantage of the orchestra in the third movement where every mistake a member made was amplified by the stage. There were too many instances of an instrument (usually the violin) playing too loudly, or coming in too fast, or the orchestra not ending a note precisely. I guess there were many pianists in the audience, and too many of them were moving with the music. It’s annoying when you notice them, and I also wonder how many of them think they can do a better job at the piece.
Louis Lortie played one of Chopin’s Nocturnes as an encore. [Note: A commenter on the blog states that this is a Chopin Etude.]
I played the Brahms Symphony as a member of Cornell Symphony in the mid 70s. Come to think of it, it may actually be at Carnegie Hall as part of our centennial tour! Although I haven’t heard it much since, I am still reasonably familiar with it. The four movements are (i) Allegro non troppo; (ii) Adagio non troppo); (iii) Allegretto grazioso (quasi andantino) and (iv) Allegro con spirito. The performance did not get off to an auspicious start with the unsteady French Horns. It did improve to a certain extent as the piece went on. However, there were quite a few fast passages that sounded out of control, verging on chaotic. The last movement (or more precisely, the last part of the last movement) was done well and generated tremendous applause. I don’t know if I missed the greatness of the performance, or this is a case of “this is Carnegie Hall, so everyone who plays here must be good.”
The orchestra played a Beethoven Egmont Overture as an encore. I actually appreciated this more than the actual performance.
One other thing, the same guy (I assume it is the regular concertmaster) led the orchestra for both the concerto and the symphony. There was none of this excusing oneself in deference of the guest soloist business. I wonder if this practice is limited to a few orchestras, or is suspended you are on tour. I guess I need to be a NY Phil groupie and see them during a tour to find out! Or wait for the BSO to play in our area.
New York Philharmonic – David Robertson, Conductor; Gil Shaham, Violin. February 27, 2010.
Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra 1 (Seat V5, $58).
Program
Suite from Ma Mere I’Oye (Mother Goose) (1908-1910; 1911) by Ravel (18751937).
Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 14 (1939-49/1948) by Barber (1910-81).
The Wooden Prince: A Dancing-Play in One Act, to a Libretto by Bela Balazs, Op. 13 (1914-17) by Bartok (1881-1945).
This is on paper an interesting program, it consists of relatively obscure pieces all composed during the 20th century. One of the pieces (one by Bartok) had only been performed by the New York Philharmonic once, and that was in 1975.
The Ravel piece consists of five movements: Pavane of the Sleeping Beauty; Tom Thumb; Laideronnette, Empress of the Pagodas; Conversations of Beauty and the Beast; and Apotheosis, the Enchanted Garden. It was originally written as a piano four hands for two of Ravel’s family friends but they were too shy to perform it in public, so the premiere was done by someone else. A few years later Ravel scored the piece for an orchestra.
The first three movements were kind of so-so, with not much happening. Pavanes are usually pleasant sounding slow dances, tonight’s wasn’t all that noticeable. The dynamics were quite a bit marked during the last two movements, they felt a bit incongruent given how the first three movements sounded though. We heard this piece conducted by Maazel in September, 2008. Looking back at that review, I have to conclude (on the basis of that review alone, since I have no recollection of the performance) tonight’s was probably an improvement. In Maazel’s defense, the New York Times, in one of its rare praises for him, describes the performance as a “beautifully constrained account.”
The Program Notes are not kind to Barber’s Violin Conerto, even though there is quite a bit of hedging in the writeup. There is an interesting dustup between Samuel Fels, who commissioned the concerto, and Barber on whether the concerto was good enough or too difficult for the intended soloist Iso Briselli. In any case, Barber got his $1000, and Briselli also got vindicated somehow. The overall impression it got me was two movements that were too simple (Allegro and Andante) and one that was virtuoso but short and didn’t quite belong (Presto in moto perpetuo).
So, I decided to listen with an open mind, even though I didn’t know if that was possible given the bias that had already formed in my opinion. The overall performance was much better than expected, though far from either brilliant or deeply musical. Shaham’s Stradivarius somehow got overwhelmed often by the orchestra, and his play just sounded a bit off. Overall it was an acceptable performance, but I expected a better overall experience than I got today. We were seated in Row V which had a good view of the stage (especially with binoculars). While standing there idle Shaham had this hunched stance and an open mouth; he was all serious when he was playing, though, and moved back and forth quite a bit.
The story behind Bartok’s The Wooden Prince is quite simple. A prince falls in love with a princess and tries to draw her attention with his wooden staff carved into a puppet. The princess keeps on ignoring it until he adorns the staff sequentially with his robe, his crown, and finally his hair. And then she falls in love with the wooden prince much to the prince’s dismay. A Fairy takes pity on him and makes him attractive to the princess. Now the princess has to sacrifice her crown before they can fall in love. This is done in many scenes played without interruption: [Prelude]; Dance of the Princess in the Forest; Dance of the Trees; Dance of the Waves; Dance of the Princess with the Wooden Puppet; The Princess Pulls and Tugs at Him (the Wooden Prince) and Tries to Make Him Dance; She Tries to Attract Him (the Real Prince) with a Seductive Dance; Frightened, the Princess Attempts to Hasten to Him (the Real Prince) but the Forest Stops Her; [Postlude].
The scenario creator Bela Balazs likens this to a woman preferring the poem to the poet, or the picture to the painter.
As with the first two pieces, I also didn’t know what to expect of this piece. Bartok has three pieces for the stage, and I have also heard The Miraculous Mandarin before (a couple of times, actually.) This is relatively long at an advertised 45 minutes (a bit longer in actuality). We were quite pleasantly surprised that the libretto (per the New York Times, the original scenario of Balazs) was displayed as the music was played, so we could clearly correlate the action in the orchestra with what we could imagine was going on. I can see how a creative choreographer can then turn this into movements, a stage designer to sketch out the scenery, and the director to put the ballet together. The downside is the words illustrate how silly the story is (“contorted” is the word used in the Program Notes.) Since most of my jet-lagged brain was used to imagine the scenes and dance movements, not enough was left to appreciate or analyze the music itself. Overall though, I didn’t come away very satisfied as I kept telling myself it was a stupid story.
So tonight’s was a program that had a potential to be of great appeal but ended up not living up to that potential. Using my newly coined analogy in comparing disappointing meals with disappointing music performances, this is better than a disappointing meal.
Anne and I both thought the applause at the conclusion was only lukewarm. The New York Times review was very positive. Naturally, as this is a publication that would have liked Robertson to be the successor to Maazel.
Program
Suite from Ma Mere I’Oye (Mother Goose) (1908-1910; 1911) by Ravel (18751937).
Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 14 (1939-49/1948) by Barber (1910-81).
The Wooden Prince: A Dancing-Play in One Act, to a Libretto by Bela Balazs, Op. 13 (1914-17) by Bartok (1881-1945).
This is on paper an interesting program, it consists of relatively obscure pieces all composed during the 20th century. One of the pieces (one by Bartok) had only been performed by the New York Philharmonic once, and that was in 1975.
The Ravel piece consists of five movements: Pavane of the Sleeping Beauty; Tom Thumb; Laideronnette, Empress of the Pagodas; Conversations of Beauty and the Beast; and Apotheosis, the Enchanted Garden. It was originally written as a piano four hands for two of Ravel’s family friends but they were too shy to perform it in public, so the premiere was done by someone else. A few years later Ravel scored the piece for an orchestra.
The first three movements were kind of so-so, with not much happening. Pavanes are usually pleasant sounding slow dances, tonight’s wasn’t all that noticeable. The dynamics were quite a bit marked during the last two movements, they felt a bit incongruent given how the first three movements sounded though. We heard this piece conducted by Maazel in September, 2008. Looking back at that review, I have to conclude (on the basis of that review alone, since I have no recollection of the performance) tonight’s was probably an improvement. In Maazel’s defense, the New York Times, in one of its rare praises for him, describes the performance as a “beautifully constrained account.”
The Program Notes are not kind to Barber’s Violin Conerto, even though there is quite a bit of hedging in the writeup. There is an interesting dustup between Samuel Fels, who commissioned the concerto, and Barber on whether the concerto was good enough or too difficult for the intended soloist Iso Briselli. In any case, Barber got his $1000, and Briselli also got vindicated somehow. The overall impression it got me was two movements that were too simple (Allegro and Andante) and one that was virtuoso but short and didn’t quite belong (Presto in moto perpetuo).
So, I decided to listen with an open mind, even though I didn’t know if that was possible given the bias that had already formed in my opinion. The overall performance was much better than expected, though far from either brilliant or deeply musical. Shaham’s Stradivarius somehow got overwhelmed often by the orchestra, and his play just sounded a bit off. Overall it was an acceptable performance, but I expected a better overall experience than I got today. We were seated in Row V which had a good view of the stage (especially with binoculars). While standing there idle Shaham had this hunched stance and an open mouth; he was all serious when he was playing, though, and moved back and forth quite a bit.
The story behind Bartok’s The Wooden Prince is quite simple. A prince falls in love with a princess and tries to draw her attention with his wooden staff carved into a puppet. The princess keeps on ignoring it until he adorns the staff sequentially with his robe, his crown, and finally his hair. And then she falls in love with the wooden prince much to the prince’s dismay. A Fairy takes pity on him and makes him attractive to the princess. Now the princess has to sacrifice her crown before they can fall in love. This is done in many scenes played without interruption: [Prelude]; Dance of the Princess in the Forest; Dance of the Trees; Dance of the Waves; Dance of the Princess with the Wooden Puppet; The Princess Pulls and Tugs at Him (the Wooden Prince) and Tries to Make Him Dance; She Tries to Attract Him (the Real Prince) with a Seductive Dance; Frightened, the Princess Attempts to Hasten to Him (the Real Prince) but the Forest Stops Her; [Postlude].
The scenario creator Bela Balazs likens this to a woman preferring the poem to the poet, or the picture to the painter.
As with the first two pieces, I also didn’t know what to expect of this piece. Bartok has three pieces for the stage, and I have also heard The Miraculous Mandarin before (a couple of times, actually.) This is relatively long at an advertised 45 minutes (a bit longer in actuality). We were quite pleasantly surprised that the libretto (per the New York Times, the original scenario of Balazs) was displayed as the music was played, so we could clearly correlate the action in the orchestra with what we could imagine was going on. I can see how a creative choreographer can then turn this into movements, a stage designer to sketch out the scenery, and the director to put the ballet together. The downside is the words illustrate how silly the story is (“contorted” is the word used in the Program Notes.) Since most of my jet-lagged brain was used to imagine the scenes and dance movements, not enough was left to appreciate or analyze the music itself. Overall though, I didn’t come away very satisfied as I kept telling myself it was a stupid story.
So tonight’s was a program that had a potential to be of great appeal but ended up not living up to that potential. Using my newly coined analogy in comparing disappointing meals with disappointing music performances, this is better than a disappointing meal.
Anne and I both thought the applause at the conclusion was only lukewarm. The New York Times review was very positive. Naturally, as this is a publication that would have liked Robertson to be the successor to Maazel.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Opera Australia – Puccini’s Tosca. February 16, 2010.
Opera Theatre, Sydney Opera House, Circle (Seat N25, A$105).
Story: See earlier post.
Conductor – Tom Woods; Tosca – Nicole Youl, Cavaradossi – Carlo Barricelli, Scarpia – John Wegner.
Six of us went to see this show: Anne & me, Steven & Ruth, Tim & Alyson. We had the exact same seats as the last show, and again there were quite a few empty seats in the circle. This time the usher invited us to move up front, so we watched the entire show in seats in Row L. At a price difference of about $40 per ticket, we can tell ourselves we saved $240!
Anne had been reading several write-ups on the production. “Raw” seems to be the term used most often. I expected a graphic rape scene. The show did depict a more explicit sex act (Scarpia in his boxer shorts and Tosca in her slip), but the word raw more aptly describes the dreamlike state the director wants to produce but unfortunately by-and-large fails to accomplish. More on this later.
The opera didn’t start too auspiciously with Cavaradossi’s tentative singing of the first aria (Recondita armonia). After hearing a couple of his missed notes, I was worried how he was going to last the entire opera. A good thing it was probably a case of the nerves since he improved as the show went on. Nonetheless, Barricelli’s overall performance was not that impressive. Interesting, this was the aria that got most applause afterwards. Australians are not into interrupting with applause, but tonight the reluctance was particularly evident. Could it also be due to their not quite knowing what was going on, or their displeasure?
One moral of the opera is that bad things happen to otherwise ordinary people. Even though we knew things were brewing as Cavaradossi was trying to hide a fugitive, the show began innocuous enough: two people in love with the requisite jealousy shown by Tosca. This show did that quite well.
Youl as Tosca in general has a strong voice that carried well. However, the rendition of “Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore” was quite weak, a pity since this for most is the highlight of the opera. Since we were seated quite far back, I didn’t have a good look of Tosca, thus the strongest impression I got was that she was quite overweight. I worried that she would trip or collapse the chair she was standing on. Okay overall, but certainly not great.
Scarpia was played quite brilliantly by Wegner. It probably isn’t difficult to get the audience to hate you as Scarpia, and he succeeded brilliantly.
Act III was particularly “interesting,” although - in my opinion and that of others in our group – not in a good sort of way. Instead of things happening in real time, what we had was a fantasy (or dream) sequence experienced by Tosca before she herself was executed by a shot in the head. The director felt the need to explain this in the Program Notes, but the synopsis still carried the traditional story, so I think many in the audience got quite confused. It took me a while to understand how the story was being told. The effect just seemed half-hearted and amateurish. Perhaps the use of a projection screen to display various images (a la Met’s Damnation of Faust), more eerie lighting, and other effects can help make it more of a fantasy sequence.
I don’t understand the need to do things of this sort. The story is compelling enough and in any case should stand or fall on its own merits rather than with the help of people who think they know better. The director’s notes also talks about many bodies strewn on stage, which turned out to be an exaggeration: we have the (fake) body of Angelotti, his sister who may or may not be dead (who is actually a shepherd boy in the “original,” and why is she up on top of the cupboard?), Scarpia, and Cavaradossi. Using the basement of a church for the entire opera also didn’t work that well. As we saw on Saturday in Manon, Opera Australia is certainly capable of making elaborate scene changes professionally, so staying with one scene was not needed. One more head-scratching thing was this TV that kept playing in the room next to the basement.
I saw Tosca a few years back with the NYC Opera and enjoyed it tremendously. This doesn’t nearly measure up in terms of the total experience. Indeed I can’t think of any aspect of tonight’s performance that measures up. We are talking NYC Opera, not the Met, although that was one of the better performances I have seen of NYC Opera.
What I said about Manon applies here also: despite my misgivings, I enjoyed the opera. Another observation: a disappointing opera is usually better than a disappointing meal. Earlier the week we had the experience of eating a A$75 two-course lunch at the Quay, that’s when I discovered this way to describe a disappointing meal not worth the money. Pretty clever, if I may say so myself.
Story: See earlier post.
Conductor – Tom Woods; Tosca – Nicole Youl, Cavaradossi – Carlo Barricelli, Scarpia – John Wegner.
Six of us went to see this show: Anne & me, Steven & Ruth, Tim & Alyson. We had the exact same seats as the last show, and again there were quite a few empty seats in the circle. This time the usher invited us to move up front, so we watched the entire show in seats in Row L. At a price difference of about $40 per ticket, we can tell ourselves we saved $240!
Anne had been reading several write-ups on the production. “Raw” seems to be the term used most often. I expected a graphic rape scene. The show did depict a more explicit sex act (Scarpia in his boxer shorts and Tosca in her slip), but the word raw more aptly describes the dreamlike state the director wants to produce but unfortunately by-and-large fails to accomplish. More on this later.
The opera didn’t start too auspiciously with Cavaradossi’s tentative singing of the first aria (Recondita armonia). After hearing a couple of his missed notes, I was worried how he was going to last the entire opera. A good thing it was probably a case of the nerves since he improved as the show went on. Nonetheless, Barricelli’s overall performance was not that impressive. Interesting, this was the aria that got most applause afterwards. Australians are not into interrupting with applause, but tonight the reluctance was particularly evident. Could it also be due to their not quite knowing what was going on, or their displeasure?
One moral of the opera is that bad things happen to otherwise ordinary people. Even though we knew things were brewing as Cavaradossi was trying to hide a fugitive, the show began innocuous enough: two people in love with the requisite jealousy shown by Tosca. This show did that quite well.
Youl as Tosca in general has a strong voice that carried well. However, the rendition of “Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore” was quite weak, a pity since this for most is the highlight of the opera. Since we were seated quite far back, I didn’t have a good look of Tosca, thus the strongest impression I got was that she was quite overweight. I worried that she would trip or collapse the chair she was standing on. Okay overall, but certainly not great.
Scarpia was played quite brilliantly by Wegner. It probably isn’t difficult to get the audience to hate you as Scarpia, and he succeeded brilliantly.
Act III was particularly “interesting,” although - in my opinion and that of others in our group – not in a good sort of way. Instead of things happening in real time, what we had was a fantasy (or dream) sequence experienced by Tosca before she herself was executed by a shot in the head. The director felt the need to explain this in the Program Notes, but the synopsis still carried the traditional story, so I think many in the audience got quite confused. It took me a while to understand how the story was being told. The effect just seemed half-hearted and amateurish. Perhaps the use of a projection screen to display various images (a la Met’s Damnation of Faust), more eerie lighting, and other effects can help make it more of a fantasy sequence.
I don’t understand the need to do things of this sort. The story is compelling enough and in any case should stand or fall on its own merits rather than with the help of people who think they know better. The director’s notes also talks about many bodies strewn on stage, which turned out to be an exaggeration: we have the (fake) body of Angelotti, his sister who may or may not be dead (who is actually a shepherd boy in the “original,” and why is she up on top of the cupboard?), Scarpia, and Cavaradossi. Using the basement of a church for the entire opera also didn’t work that well. As we saw on Saturday in Manon, Opera Australia is certainly capable of making elaborate scene changes professionally, so staying with one scene was not needed. One more head-scratching thing was this TV that kept playing in the room next to the basement.
I saw Tosca a few years back with the NYC Opera and enjoyed it tremendously. This doesn’t nearly measure up in terms of the total experience. Indeed I can’t think of any aspect of tonight’s performance that measures up. We are talking NYC Opera, not the Met, although that was one of the better performances I have seen of NYC Opera.
What I said about Manon applies here also: despite my misgivings, I enjoyed the opera. Another observation: a disappointing opera is usually better than a disappointing meal. Earlier the week we had the experience of eating a A$75 two-course lunch at the Quay, that’s when I discovered this way to describe a disappointing meal not worth the money. Pretty clever, if I may say so myself.
Opera Australia – Massenet’s Manon. February 13, 2010.
Opera Theatre, Sydney Opera House, Circle (Seat N25, A$115).
Story. Manon, on her way to a convent, is persuaded by Des Grieux to run off with him to Paris. They are eventually tracked down by Manon’s nephew Lescaut and admirer De Bretigny. They tell Manon Des Grieux will be kidnapped by his father who disapproves of their relationship, and De Bretigny promises Manon a life of luxury. Manon chooses not to warn Des Grieux and goes to De Bretigny. Des Grieux intends to become a monk at St. Sulpice. Manon goes to visit him and persuades Des Grieux to abandon his vows and rejoin her. When Des Grieux runs out of money he inherited from his mother, Manon gets him to gamble agains Guillot de Morfontaine. Guillot de Morfontaine accuses Des Grieux and Manon of cheating and calls the police on them. Des Grieux is saved by his father, but Manon is detained. On her way to deportation to the colonies, Manon is rescued by her cousin Lescaut who bribes a guard. She reunites with Des Grieux but dies in his arms.
Conductor – Emmanuel Plasson; Guillot de Morfontaine – Kanen Breen, De Bretigny – Richard Anderson, Manon – Amelia Farrugia, Le Chevalier Des Grieux – Julian Gavin.
We were hoping to eat a reasonable dinner before seeing this opera. Unfortunately I woke up from my (jet-lag) nap a bit too late, so we had to rush to the Opera House and gulped down a meat pie and a sausage roll (between the two of us) in a hurry. I did get a whopper afterwards though.
There were quite a few empty seats in the hall, which was surprising as all the other operas I attended at the Opera House were quite full. In fact we moved up three rows after the intermission. I wonder if it is the economy (supposedly Australia has a very low unemployment rate), the time (Saturday evening), or the relatively obscurity of the Opera (relatively well-known, but who knows, after all this is the first time I see it.)
The sets are quite elaborate. There are quite a few changes in scenery, all done efficiently and quietly.
Both lead players (Manon and Des Grieux) have great voices. However, most of the time they seem to need to belt out their lines. There were a few exceptions in Manon’s case, so we know she can capture the audience with soft high notes, but somehow she doesn’t do it enough (in my opinion, many passages call for it.) Even seated in the second to last row in the theater, we could hear the singers very well. Either the place has great acoustics, or they have some sound enhancement system at work. Local write-ups seem to say Farrugia is an up and coming Australian singer; and I can see that.
The story must be well-known enough that at least a couple of operas have been written based on the play. However, what we see during the opera doesn’t quite hang together well enough to get complete audience engagement. As I put it, “a lot of things are happening offstage.” Or there just not enough time to develop the characters so one can understand why they do the things they do. Also, there is quite a bit of parallel between Manon and Violetta of La Traviata. Both are pleasure-seeking women (although Manon isn’t a courtesan, even though she is accused as such), both leading men have fathers that don’t approve of the relationship, and both women end up dying. The death scene in Manon is a bit drawn out, and since there is not a lot of emotional investment in the character by the audience, I am sure many in the audience would say “just die already.”
Despite my misgivings, I enjoyed the performance.
Story. Manon, on her way to a convent, is persuaded by Des Grieux to run off with him to Paris. They are eventually tracked down by Manon’s nephew Lescaut and admirer De Bretigny. They tell Manon Des Grieux will be kidnapped by his father who disapproves of their relationship, and De Bretigny promises Manon a life of luxury. Manon chooses not to warn Des Grieux and goes to De Bretigny. Des Grieux intends to become a monk at St. Sulpice. Manon goes to visit him and persuades Des Grieux to abandon his vows and rejoin her. When Des Grieux runs out of money he inherited from his mother, Manon gets him to gamble agains Guillot de Morfontaine. Guillot de Morfontaine accuses Des Grieux and Manon of cheating and calls the police on them. Des Grieux is saved by his father, but Manon is detained. On her way to deportation to the colonies, Manon is rescued by her cousin Lescaut who bribes a guard. She reunites with Des Grieux but dies in his arms.
Conductor – Emmanuel Plasson; Guillot de Morfontaine – Kanen Breen, De Bretigny – Richard Anderson, Manon – Amelia Farrugia, Le Chevalier Des Grieux – Julian Gavin.
We were hoping to eat a reasonable dinner before seeing this opera. Unfortunately I woke up from my (jet-lag) nap a bit too late, so we had to rush to the Opera House and gulped down a meat pie and a sausage roll (between the two of us) in a hurry. I did get a whopper afterwards though.
There were quite a few empty seats in the hall, which was surprising as all the other operas I attended at the Opera House were quite full. In fact we moved up three rows after the intermission. I wonder if it is the economy (supposedly Australia has a very low unemployment rate), the time (Saturday evening), or the relatively obscurity of the Opera (relatively well-known, but who knows, after all this is the first time I see it.)
The sets are quite elaborate. There are quite a few changes in scenery, all done efficiently and quietly.
Both lead players (Manon and Des Grieux) have great voices. However, most of the time they seem to need to belt out their lines. There were a few exceptions in Manon’s case, so we know she can capture the audience with soft high notes, but somehow she doesn’t do it enough (in my opinion, many passages call for it.) Even seated in the second to last row in the theater, we could hear the singers very well. Either the place has great acoustics, or they have some sound enhancement system at work. Local write-ups seem to say Farrugia is an up and coming Australian singer; and I can see that.
The story must be well-known enough that at least a couple of operas have been written based on the play. However, what we see during the opera doesn’t quite hang together well enough to get complete audience engagement. As I put it, “a lot of things are happening offstage.” Or there just not enough time to develop the characters so one can understand why they do the things they do. Also, there is quite a bit of parallel between Manon and Violetta of La Traviata. Both are pleasure-seeking women (although Manon isn’t a courtesan, even though she is accused as such), both leading men have fathers that don’t approve of the relationship, and both women end up dying. The death scene in Manon is a bit drawn out, and since there is not a lot of emotional investment in the character by the audience, I am sure many in the audience would say “just die already.”
Despite my misgivings, I enjoyed the performance.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Metropolitan Opera – Strauss’s Ariadne auf Naxos. February 4, 2010.
Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Dress Circle Seat D106 ($97.50).
Story. This opera has a very interesting structure, a prolog and an opera in one act. The prolog is comic. The richest man in Vienna engages an opera company and a comedy troupe to perform at his house. He eventually changes his mind and wants the abridged versions of the performances performed together so he can start the fireworks celebration in time. This gets both companies upset, with everyone suggesting the others’ parts be cut. The opera is mostly serious, with a bit of comedy thrown in. Ariadne is abandoned by her long-time lover Theseus on an island, and wishes for Hermes the god of death. Instead another god Bacchus shows up in a ship. Ariadne first thinks he is Hermes, then Theseus, and finally realizes he is someone else. After some soul-searching, she joins Bacchus and ascends to heaven. During Ariadne’s internal struggle, Zerbinetta from the comedy troupe shows up and tells her she should move on.
Conductor – Kirill Petrenko; The Composer – Sarah Connolly, Bacchus/The Tenor – Michael Hendrick, Zerbinetta – Kathleen Kim, Ariadne/The Prima Donna – Nina Stemme.
Last week (I am writing this on Sunday) was restaurant week in New York. We booked ourselves into Ed’s Chowder House in the Empire Hotel across from Lincoln Center. At $35 per person for a 3-course meal it sounded like a bargain. Anne had the cod cakes, risotto, and apple crumbs; I had the clam chowder soup, skate, and apple crumbs. With a bottle of sparkling water and one decaf coffee total bill came to about $90, before gratuities. Not a bad meal – and we were full – but these limited menu items tend not to be the most exciting offerings from the restaurant; we are not tempted to go back and pay (say) $60 per person for a regular meal. We were in the back room with two other large parties, and it got quite noisy even though they were all women (except for one lucky/unlucky guy). Another couple asked to be reseated which the restaurant was happy to oblige. The service actually was quite good.
Back to the opera. In theory the structure of talking about how operas are put out and description of behind-the-scenes action can result in an interesting experience for the audience. I am not sure this worked out very well, though. The story of Ariadne itself is quite serious, but the fact that we know it is just a show detracts from one’s emotional involvement; unfortunately you don’t think you should laugh either, so you sit there just trying to enjoy the music.
The set for the prolog is quite interesting, the lower half is where the actors and singers go about their business of chatting and arguing, the upper left quadrant is a staircase of the castle, and the upper right quadrant is the stage at the castle, looking into the audience. So you get to set the actors from the back and realize instead of being on stilts, the actor is actually standing on a platform. This helps explain how the three women singers move around on stage. The set for the opera itself is relatively simple, although by raising and lowering different curtains it produces a very pleasing effect.
Both Ariadne and Zerbinetta sang very well. They both have long and challenges passages in the opera, and both got well-deserved applauses from the audience (usually not done with German operas.) Ariadne has a more mature voice. Kathleen Kim looks to be quite young. She had her Met debut in 2007, and for this season is playing three rather important roles (this, Papagena in The Magic Flute, and Olympia in The Tales of Hoffman. Must be one of the upcoming superstars. The tenor originally scheduled to sing the role of Bacchus was sick, and his substitute had a cold but tried to perform nonetheless. It was a painful sight to see him struggle with the higher notes. Perhaps we can’t fault anyone for this happening, but it is still a pity. The role of the young composer was sung by a woman, which confuses me to no end.
There was a sex scene that was a bit crude and I’m sure made many in the audience uncomfortable. And I am not sure the opera needs it. Many people sitting close to us were looking into the box area where members of the Opera Guild sit. These are all people who contribute substantially to the Met and they make sure people know that by dressing in tuxedos and fancy dresses. There was a lady that everyone was sure had a lot of plastic surgery, and she wore a dress with a wide sash that had to be pinned to her bottom. I am sure she’s glad all her surgery expenses are paying off, at least as far as being noticed goes. Good thing an opera crowd never gets too mean.
I have seen three Strauss operas (Capriccio and Helen of Egypt are the other two) and fail to see heads or tails with any of them. There are always some better known ones that I should see so I will appreciate Strauss as an opera composer. These would be Salome, Der Rosenkavalier, and Die Frau ohne Schatten. Well, I’m not so sure I’ll ever get to that point …
Oh, falling asleep during the show didn’t help either. I woke up early that day, and had a relatively heavy dinner. At least I didn’t snore like the lady next to me. This was one of the least attended Met performances I have been to, both sides of the dress circle were not occupied. We didn’t see them trying to sell half price tickets, though.
The New York Times reviewer saw the same performance. He says Hendrick is an experience Bacchus, so it is really too bad he had the cold. And the reviewer is quite forgiving and is particularly impressed with Stemme's singing. Nonetheless, his overall grade for the opera is about the same as mine.
Story. This opera has a very interesting structure, a prolog and an opera in one act. The prolog is comic. The richest man in Vienna engages an opera company and a comedy troupe to perform at his house. He eventually changes his mind and wants the abridged versions of the performances performed together so he can start the fireworks celebration in time. This gets both companies upset, with everyone suggesting the others’ parts be cut. The opera is mostly serious, with a bit of comedy thrown in. Ariadne is abandoned by her long-time lover Theseus on an island, and wishes for Hermes the god of death. Instead another god Bacchus shows up in a ship. Ariadne first thinks he is Hermes, then Theseus, and finally realizes he is someone else. After some soul-searching, she joins Bacchus and ascends to heaven. During Ariadne’s internal struggle, Zerbinetta from the comedy troupe shows up and tells her she should move on.
Conductor – Kirill Petrenko; The Composer – Sarah Connolly, Bacchus/The Tenor – Michael Hendrick, Zerbinetta – Kathleen Kim, Ariadne/The Prima Donna – Nina Stemme.
Last week (I am writing this on Sunday) was restaurant week in New York. We booked ourselves into Ed’s Chowder House in the Empire Hotel across from Lincoln Center. At $35 per person for a 3-course meal it sounded like a bargain. Anne had the cod cakes, risotto, and apple crumbs; I had the clam chowder soup, skate, and apple crumbs. With a bottle of sparkling water and one decaf coffee total bill came to about $90, before gratuities. Not a bad meal – and we were full – but these limited menu items tend not to be the most exciting offerings from the restaurant; we are not tempted to go back and pay (say) $60 per person for a regular meal. We were in the back room with two other large parties, and it got quite noisy even though they were all women (except for one lucky/unlucky guy). Another couple asked to be reseated which the restaurant was happy to oblige. The service actually was quite good.
Back to the opera. In theory the structure of talking about how operas are put out and description of behind-the-scenes action can result in an interesting experience for the audience. I am not sure this worked out very well, though. The story of Ariadne itself is quite serious, but the fact that we know it is just a show detracts from one’s emotional involvement; unfortunately you don’t think you should laugh either, so you sit there just trying to enjoy the music.
The set for the prolog is quite interesting, the lower half is where the actors and singers go about their business of chatting and arguing, the upper left quadrant is a staircase of the castle, and the upper right quadrant is the stage at the castle, looking into the audience. So you get to set the actors from the back and realize instead of being on stilts, the actor is actually standing on a platform. This helps explain how the three women singers move around on stage. The set for the opera itself is relatively simple, although by raising and lowering different curtains it produces a very pleasing effect.
Both Ariadne and Zerbinetta sang very well. They both have long and challenges passages in the opera, and both got well-deserved applauses from the audience (usually not done with German operas.) Ariadne has a more mature voice. Kathleen Kim looks to be quite young. She had her Met debut in 2007, and for this season is playing three rather important roles (this, Papagena in The Magic Flute, and Olympia in The Tales of Hoffman. Must be one of the upcoming superstars. The tenor originally scheduled to sing the role of Bacchus was sick, and his substitute had a cold but tried to perform nonetheless. It was a painful sight to see him struggle with the higher notes. Perhaps we can’t fault anyone for this happening, but it is still a pity. The role of the young composer was sung by a woman, which confuses me to no end.
There was a sex scene that was a bit crude and I’m sure made many in the audience uncomfortable. And I am not sure the opera needs it. Many people sitting close to us were looking into the box area where members of the Opera Guild sit. These are all people who contribute substantially to the Met and they make sure people know that by dressing in tuxedos and fancy dresses. There was a lady that everyone was sure had a lot of plastic surgery, and she wore a dress with a wide sash that had to be pinned to her bottom. I am sure she’s glad all her surgery expenses are paying off, at least as far as being noticed goes. Good thing an opera crowd never gets too mean.
I have seen three Strauss operas (Capriccio and Helen of Egypt are the other two) and fail to see heads or tails with any of them. There are always some better known ones that I should see so I will appreciate Strauss as an opera composer. These would be Salome, Der Rosenkavalier, and Die Frau ohne Schatten. Well, I’m not so sure I’ll ever get to that point …
Oh, falling asleep during the show didn’t help either. I woke up early that day, and had a relatively heavy dinner. At least I didn’t snore like the lady next to me. This was one of the least attended Met performances I have been to, both sides of the dress circle were not occupied. We didn’t see them trying to sell half price tickets, though.
The New York Times reviewer saw the same performance. He says Hendrick is an experience Bacchus, so it is really too bad he had the cold. And the reviewer is quite forgiving and is particularly impressed with Stemme's singing. Nonetheless, his overall grade for the opera is about the same as mine.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
New York City Ballet – Tschaikovsky’s The Sleeping Beauty, January 29, 2010.
David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center – Second Ring Right, Seat BB26 ($47).
Conductor – Clotilde Otranto; The Lilac Fairy – Teresa Reichlen, The Fairy Carabosse – Jenifer Ringer, Princess Aurora – Sterling Hyltin, Prince Desire – Jonathan Stafford.
Story: At the christening of Princess Aurora, various fairies came to give their blessings. Carabosse, who isn’t invited, barges in an puts a curse on the Princess: she will prick her finger on a spindle on her 16th birthday and die. Lilac counters that curse and says Aurora will only fall asleep and will be awakened by the kiss of a loving prince. Thus it happens on Aurora’s 16th birthday, when the spindle is given to Aurora hidden in a bouquet by Carabosse. She and the rest of the court falls asleep for 100 years. Prince Desire is alone during a hunt, and Lilac shows up and tells him to rescue Aurora. He kisses her, she and the court all wake up, and Aurora and Desire get married.
Ellie was in town for the weekend from San Francisco, so we (Ellie, Kuau, Anne and myself) took advantage of the Goldstar discount to see this ballet. We gulped down a pizza before we headed off to the train station. It was a very cold day, but we weren’t outside for too long.
One thing I forgot to mention in my last entry was that the Koch Theater had just undergone an extensive renovation costing in the neighborhood of $50M; “extensive” probably is a better description. The seats and the bathrooms look new, and that’s about it. Perhaps they did something about the acoustics, sound, and lighting system; but I would be hard-pressed to point out any differences. To be fair, I have seen only two ballets since the renovation was completed, so I may not be in a great position to comment on the improvements, or lack thereof. Perhaps each seat costs $10,000, otherwise I don’t know where they spent the money. The seats are nice, but not nearly that nice!
Which brings me to the music. Today’s orchestra performance didn’t sound nearly as exciting as last time (Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet.) In fact it was lackluster during Act I Scene 1; the performance improved as the show progressed, but overall it was timid, lacking in dynamic range and emotion, and surprisingly un-romantic for Tchaikovsky. The Sleeping Beauty is one of the composer’s better known pieces and there are some familiar melodies, I wonder what a great performance (with or without the dancers) would sound like.
Perhaps I shouldn’t expect too much drama in the ballet. The story is well-known, and straightforward. The ballet, in my opinion, was written to showcase the ability and artistry of the dancers. Unfortunately I look for drama where there isn’t much, and thus am deservedly disappointed. There are many instances where different dancers would come out and do their number (e.g., different fairies blessing Princess Aurora.) Enjoyable if you appreciate ballet dancing, boring if you want the story to move forward. Actually the choreographer seems to want to imbue each of the fairies with a distinct character, which reminds me of what Wagner did with the various “hildas” in the Ring operas. This would be something only an avid fan would notice, or care about.
There are some light moments provided by little riding hood and the big bad wolf. I don’t know how that fits into the story, and wonder if this is what Tchaikovsky (or whoever did this in the original libretto) had the roles written as such.
The dancers seemed to put on a better performance than Romeo and Juliet, though. The choreography isn’t as athletic as Romeo and Juliet, and sometimes the movements seemed a little rushed. There were a few instances the dancers failed to “nailed the landing,” to borrow a phrase from gymnastics.
I have seen three of Tchaikovsky’s ballets (Nutcracker, Swan Lake, and Sleeping Beauty). Of the three, Swan Lake is most enjoyable. This show certainly hasn’t made me a fan of the genre, though.
Conductor – Clotilde Otranto; The Lilac Fairy – Teresa Reichlen, The Fairy Carabosse – Jenifer Ringer, Princess Aurora – Sterling Hyltin, Prince Desire – Jonathan Stafford.
Story: At the christening of Princess Aurora, various fairies came to give their blessings. Carabosse, who isn’t invited, barges in an puts a curse on the Princess: she will prick her finger on a spindle on her 16th birthday and die. Lilac counters that curse and says Aurora will only fall asleep and will be awakened by the kiss of a loving prince. Thus it happens on Aurora’s 16th birthday, when the spindle is given to Aurora hidden in a bouquet by Carabosse. She and the rest of the court falls asleep for 100 years. Prince Desire is alone during a hunt, and Lilac shows up and tells him to rescue Aurora. He kisses her, she and the court all wake up, and Aurora and Desire get married.
Ellie was in town for the weekend from San Francisco, so we (Ellie, Kuau, Anne and myself) took advantage of the Goldstar discount to see this ballet. We gulped down a pizza before we headed off to the train station. It was a very cold day, but we weren’t outside for too long.
One thing I forgot to mention in my last entry was that the Koch Theater had just undergone an extensive renovation costing in the neighborhood of $50M; “extensive” probably is a better description. The seats and the bathrooms look new, and that’s about it. Perhaps they did something about the acoustics, sound, and lighting system; but I would be hard-pressed to point out any differences. To be fair, I have seen only two ballets since the renovation was completed, so I may not be in a great position to comment on the improvements, or lack thereof. Perhaps each seat costs $10,000, otherwise I don’t know where they spent the money. The seats are nice, but not nearly that nice!
Which brings me to the music. Today’s orchestra performance didn’t sound nearly as exciting as last time (Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet.) In fact it was lackluster during Act I Scene 1; the performance improved as the show progressed, but overall it was timid, lacking in dynamic range and emotion, and surprisingly un-romantic for Tchaikovsky. The Sleeping Beauty is one of the composer’s better known pieces and there are some familiar melodies, I wonder what a great performance (with or without the dancers) would sound like.
Perhaps I shouldn’t expect too much drama in the ballet. The story is well-known, and straightforward. The ballet, in my opinion, was written to showcase the ability and artistry of the dancers. Unfortunately I look for drama where there isn’t much, and thus am deservedly disappointed. There are many instances where different dancers would come out and do their number (e.g., different fairies blessing Princess Aurora.) Enjoyable if you appreciate ballet dancing, boring if you want the story to move forward. Actually the choreographer seems to want to imbue each of the fairies with a distinct character, which reminds me of what Wagner did with the various “hildas” in the Ring operas. This would be something only an avid fan would notice, or care about.
There are some light moments provided by little riding hood and the big bad wolf. I don’t know how that fits into the story, and wonder if this is what Tchaikovsky (or whoever did this in the original libretto) had the roles written as such.
The dancers seemed to put on a better performance than Romeo and Juliet, though. The choreography isn’t as athletic as Romeo and Juliet, and sometimes the movements seemed a little rushed. There were a few instances the dancers failed to “nailed the landing,” to borrow a phrase from gymnastics.
I have seen three of Tchaikovsky’s ballets (Nutcracker, Swan Lake, and Sleeping Beauty). Of the three, Swan Lake is most enjoyable. This show certainly hasn’t made me a fan of the genre, though.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
New York City Ballet – Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet, January 21, 2010.
David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center – Second Ring Right, Seat D12 ($47).
Conductor – Faycal Karoui; Juliet – Kathryn Morgan, Romeo – Robert Fairchild, Mercutio – Daniel Ulbricht, Benvolio – Antonio Carmena, Tybalt – Joaquin De Luz, Nurse – Georgina Pazcoguin, Lady Capulet – Darci Kistler, Lord Capulet – Jock Soto, Paris – Adrian Danchig-Waring.
Story: See previous blog.
I bought these tickets through Goldstar at about ½ price. It ended up costing $54.50 per ticket including service charges, which is a good deal. I then found out I had seen this performance before, in early 2008! Nonetheless, we decided to see the show again.
The set looked familiar, much of the music (except a couple of familiar tunes) sounded new, and the story was basically as I remembered it. The set was at first glance an unremarkable center piece that turns into different sceneries called for by the story: house, courtyard, church, tomb, bedroom, etc. It certainly looked simple, but I wonder if the design had to be very clever to accommodate all the different settings. The music is enjoyable, especially the passages that contain familiar tunes. I said many times Prokofiev’s music needs many hearings to grow on me, but this is an exception. The music would be great by itself played by a competent orchestra. Tonight the orchestra was very competent.
At the beginning of the performance the announcer said there would be a substitute for Romeo. This must be difficult to do as there must be a lot of coordination between the particular dancers. I am sure the substitute (standby, understudy, whatever) hadn’t had enough real practice to do the performance well. But I would be hard-pressed to point to any instance where Romeo messed up. It may well be I don’t know what to look for as I am an inexperienced ballet goer.
Kathryn Morgan, who played Juliet, looked very young. Actually she doesn’t appear on the roster as a principal dancer. I thought her performance was good also. The nanny provided some light moments in the otherwise serious story.
Overall, though, this performance didn’t elicit as much an emotion response as the one I saw a couple of years ago. Is it familiarity, or is it because there is a difference in caliber? I can’t tell.
We drove into town mid-afternoon and stopped by the New York Boat Show held at the Javits Center for 90 minutes or so. The show was much scaled down compared to prior ones, a reflection on the economy and how poorly the boat industry is doing, no doubt. We then went to Korean town and had dinner at Wo Jon Restaurant before seeing the show.
The New York Times review (different dancers) is nearly as brutal as the one from two years ago. After reading it, I realized Fairchild has the role of Romeo for other performances during the season, and thus was quite familiar with what needed to be done.
Conductor – Faycal Karoui; Juliet – Kathryn Morgan, Romeo – Robert Fairchild, Mercutio – Daniel Ulbricht, Benvolio – Antonio Carmena, Tybalt – Joaquin De Luz, Nurse – Georgina Pazcoguin, Lady Capulet – Darci Kistler, Lord Capulet – Jock Soto, Paris – Adrian Danchig-Waring.
Story: See previous blog.
I bought these tickets through Goldstar at about ½ price. It ended up costing $54.50 per ticket including service charges, which is a good deal. I then found out I had seen this performance before, in early 2008! Nonetheless, we decided to see the show again.
The set looked familiar, much of the music (except a couple of familiar tunes) sounded new, and the story was basically as I remembered it. The set was at first glance an unremarkable center piece that turns into different sceneries called for by the story: house, courtyard, church, tomb, bedroom, etc. It certainly looked simple, but I wonder if the design had to be very clever to accommodate all the different settings. The music is enjoyable, especially the passages that contain familiar tunes. I said many times Prokofiev’s music needs many hearings to grow on me, but this is an exception. The music would be great by itself played by a competent orchestra. Tonight the orchestra was very competent.
At the beginning of the performance the announcer said there would be a substitute for Romeo. This must be difficult to do as there must be a lot of coordination between the particular dancers. I am sure the substitute (standby, understudy, whatever) hadn’t had enough real practice to do the performance well. But I would be hard-pressed to point to any instance where Romeo messed up. It may well be I don’t know what to look for as I am an inexperienced ballet goer.
Kathryn Morgan, who played Juliet, looked very young. Actually she doesn’t appear on the roster as a principal dancer. I thought her performance was good also. The nanny provided some light moments in the otherwise serious story.
Overall, though, this performance didn’t elicit as much an emotion response as the one I saw a couple of years ago. Is it familiarity, or is it because there is a difference in caliber? I can’t tell.
We drove into town mid-afternoon and stopped by the New York Boat Show held at the Javits Center for 90 minutes or so. The show was much scaled down compared to prior ones, a reflection on the economy and how poorly the boat industry is doing, no doubt. We then went to Korean town and had dinner at Wo Jon Restaurant before seeing the show.
The New York Times review (different dancers) is nearly as brutal as the one from two years ago. After reading it, I realized Fairchild has the role of Romeo for other performances during the season, and thus was quite familiar with what needed to be done.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
New York Philharmonic – Alan Gilbert, conductor; Yefim Bronfman, piano. January 8, 2010.
Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, First Tier Center (Seat BB11, $59).
Program
Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 16 (1912-13/1924) by Prokofiev (1891-1953).
Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27 (1906-08) by Rachmaninoff (1873-1943).
Chung Shu drove us into New York. It took us more than 90 minutes to get to Lincoln Tunnel from our house, so we were quite surprised to see how empty the city looked when we exited the tunnel. Except for a long line of buses, there were very few cars on the road. We grabbed a quick dinner at Ollie’s before the concert.
After an exciting beginning, the first movement (Andantino – Allegretto - Andantino) of the Prokofiev concerto became a bit non-descriptively for me so I had to make sure I didn’t doze off. But that was only for a short while; I was riveted through the rest of the piece. The pianist soon launched into a long solo/cadenza passage and was eventually joined by the orchestra to finish the movement. The second movement is marked Scherzo (Scherzo: Vivace) but it was more like a virtuoso piece for the pianist that was brilliant but not necessarily humorous. The duet with the clarinet was fascinating both technically and contrapuntally. The clarinet was played by an Asian gentleman that we had not seen before; and we couldn’t find any Asian clarinetist in the orchestra roster. In any case, he was congratulated by the principal bassoonist after he was done; many in the audience undoubtedly breathed a sign of relief and admiration. The third moment, called an intermezzo (Intermezzo: Allegro moderato), is nothing like an intermezzo Brahms would have written. It was more like a march. The fourth movement (Finale: Allegro tempestoso) brought the performance to a climatic conclusion. The audience showed their appreciation with a prolonged applause; Bronfman came out several times.
I like Prokofiev, but usually only after I have heard a piece several times since his music is a bit “deep” for me to appreciate upon first hearing. This is an exception. Perhaps it’s because he wrote it when he was only 21 and thus had not developed his complex structures yet? Believe me, the piece is complex enough.
Several other interesting facts. The music was destroyed in a fire while Prokofiev was overseas, and he rewrote it from his memory and sketches more than ten years later. So this may or may not be close to the “original.” Indeed Prokofiev claimed he had incorporated new material in the work. Like Ravel, Prokofiev wasn’t sure he could play his only composition either, but he managed to do it, to mixed reviews, though.
Rachmaninoff only predated Prokofiev by about 12 years, but his music was still basically romantic. The program notes thinks this Symphony can be considered the last grand romantic symphony. It is a bit long at 58 minutes.
The negative reception to Rachmaninoff’s first symphony was so poor that he needed a psychologist and hypnosis to get him back into composing. Evidently he had great counselors as the second symphony is a beautiful piece of music. The orchestration is such that the sounds are very rich, and the melodies are very pleasant.
The tempo markings for the first two movements are Largo – Allegro moderato and Allegro molto – Meno mosso – Tempo I. The third movement (Adagio) is very familiar. Again the clarinet played an important role. The melody is very singable, melancholic, and has a yearning quality to it. Many symphonies have slow movements that may be nice but are not exceptional compared to other movements. Notable exceptions are Beethoven’s Seventh, Mahler’s Fifth, and this one.
Interestingly, the theme from the third movement was used again in the last movement (Allegro vivace – Adagio – Tempo precedente). Perhaps Rachmaninoff liked it very much and wanted to hear it again himself!
Alan Gilbert notes in the Program that the pieces were written by Russian composers and the soloist is from Russia, and that the audience would enjoy the evening. (Bronfman was born in Russia and moved to Israel in 1973.) He was absolutely right, tonight ranks as one of the most enjoyable concerts I have been to. I left very happy. It was a very cold night (below freezing, and windy); if we had some snow, it would have been a perfect Moscow winter evening.
Just as I was beginning to doubt how Gilbert would work out as the music director, we have this performance which must be very reassuring to his supporters.
The New York Times review is all-positive. It is unfortunate the reviewer feels the need to implicitly criticize Gilbert's predecessor.
Program
Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor, Op. 16 (1912-13/1924) by Prokofiev (1891-1953).
Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27 (1906-08) by Rachmaninoff (1873-1943).
Chung Shu drove us into New York. It took us more than 90 minutes to get to Lincoln Tunnel from our house, so we were quite surprised to see how empty the city looked when we exited the tunnel. Except for a long line of buses, there were very few cars on the road. We grabbed a quick dinner at Ollie’s before the concert.
After an exciting beginning, the first movement (Andantino – Allegretto - Andantino) of the Prokofiev concerto became a bit non-descriptively for me so I had to make sure I didn’t doze off. But that was only for a short while; I was riveted through the rest of the piece. The pianist soon launched into a long solo/cadenza passage and was eventually joined by the orchestra to finish the movement. The second movement is marked Scherzo (Scherzo: Vivace) but it was more like a virtuoso piece for the pianist that was brilliant but not necessarily humorous. The duet with the clarinet was fascinating both technically and contrapuntally. The clarinet was played by an Asian gentleman that we had not seen before; and we couldn’t find any Asian clarinetist in the orchestra roster. In any case, he was congratulated by the principal bassoonist after he was done; many in the audience undoubtedly breathed a sign of relief and admiration. The third moment, called an intermezzo (Intermezzo: Allegro moderato), is nothing like an intermezzo Brahms would have written. It was more like a march. The fourth movement (Finale: Allegro tempestoso) brought the performance to a climatic conclusion. The audience showed their appreciation with a prolonged applause; Bronfman came out several times.
I like Prokofiev, but usually only after I have heard a piece several times since his music is a bit “deep” for me to appreciate upon first hearing. This is an exception. Perhaps it’s because he wrote it when he was only 21 and thus had not developed his complex structures yet? Believe me, the piece is complex enough.
Several other interesting facts. The music was destroyed in a fire while Prokofiev was overseas, and he rewrote it from his memory and sketches more than ten years later. So this may or may not be close to the “original.” Indeed Prokofiev claimed he had incorporated new material in the work. Like Ravel, Prokofiev wasn’t sure he could play his only composition either, but he managed to do it, to mixed reviews, though.
Rachmaninoff only predated Prokofiev by about 12 years, but his music was still basically romantic. The program notes thinks this Symphony can be considered the last grand romantic symphony. It is a bit long at 58 minutes.
The negative reception to Rachmaninoff’s first symphony was so poor that he needed a psychologist and hypnosis to get him back into composing. Evidently he had great counselors as the second symphony is a beautiful piece of music. The orchestration is such that the sounds are very rich, and the melodies are very pleasant.
The tempo markings for the first two movements are Largo – Allegro moderato and Allegro molto – Meno mosso – Tempo I. The third movement (Adagio) is very familiar. Again the clarinet played an important role. The melody is very singable, melancholic, and has a yearning quality to it. Many symphonies have slow movements that may be nice but are not exceptional compared to other movements. Notable exceptions are Beethoven’s Seventh, Mahler’s Fifth, and this one.
Interestingly, the theme from the third movement was used again in the last movement (Allegro vivace – Adagio – Tempo precedente). Perhaps Rachmaninoff liked it very much and wanted to hear it again himself!
Alan Gilbert notes in the Program that the pieces were written by Russian composers and the soloist is from Russia, and that the audience would enjoy the evening. (Bronfman was born in Russia and moved to Israel in 1973.) He was absolutely right, tonight ranks as one of the most enjoyable concerts I have been to. I left very happy. It was a very cold night (below freezing, and windy); if we had some snow, it would have been a perfect Moscow winter evening.
Just as I was beginning to doubt how Gilbert would work out as the music director, we have this performance which must be very reassuring to his supporters.
The New York Times review is all-positive. It is unfortunate the reviewer feels the need to implicitly criticize Gilbert's predecessor.
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