Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center – Balcony (Seat F101, $43).
Conductor – Charles Barker; Zina – Veronika Part, Pyotr – Alexandre Hammoudi, Ballerina – Stella Abrera, Ballet Dancer – Cory Stearns, Dacha Man – Victor Barbee, Dacha Woman – Martine van Hamel, Galya the school girl – Gemma Bond, Milkmaid – Misty Copeland, Gavrilych inspector of quality – Roman Zhurbin.
Story. Zina and Pyotr are a married couple living on the Russian collective farm Bright Stream. A ballet troupe comes into town, and Zina discovers she and the ballerina were classmates at ballet school. Pyotr is taken with the ballerina. Meanwhile, an older Dacha couple come by and the man likes Zina while the woman likes the male ballet dancer. Zina and the ballet dancers decide to play a hoax; so we have Zina disguised as the ballerina to trick Pyotr; the ballerina as the ballet dancer to trick the Dacha woman; and the ballet dancer as Zina to trick the Dacha man. They all fall for the disguises. The Dacha man actually goes so far as to have a duel with the disguised ballerina. Everything eventually gets sorted out.
Early this afternoon Anne suggested that we go to Nyack to visit The Hopper House. We have been interested in this artist ever since our son gave us a print of his (Lighthouse at Portland Head) after we moved to our current house with a view of the Great Beds Lighthouse. We saw a couple of his paintings at the Chicago Art Institute, including The Nighthawks, and greatly enjoyed them. The exhibit concentrates on Hopper’s early years. While interesting, it contains only a few of his early works, many on loan from other museums (several from the Whitney in New York). The docents were quite friendly and helpful, and we did learn a few things about Hopper, including how his painting style changed over the years. The $15 admission fee is a bit on the high side, though.
We got done around 4 pm, and decided to head down to the City to see if we could buy discounted tickets for the evening’s ABT performance. Even though there were many seats available, half price tickets were not on offer. We got the cheap seats in the balcony. We did find off-street parking that cost us only $6 at the meter. Between a crafts fair at Lincoln Plaza and dinner at China Fun, it was not a long wait before the performance began at 8 pm.
Indeed the ballet was not well-attended. I estimate over half of the balcony and family circle seats were not taken. Our seats had great acoustics, but I would have preferred to be closer to the stage. This matters less with operas as I go mostly for the singing (and many opera singers don’t act that well), whereas with ballets it is important to see the dancers’ movements and expressions.
The ballet has an interesting history. Shostakovich was criticized severely by the Russian censors since this work supposedly reflects the idyllic peasant life in a bad light. It was revived by Alexei Ratmansky and the Bolshoi Ballet in 2003 (it was premiered in 1935), and the ABT first performed it in January, 2011, at the JFK Center in Washington, DC.
The story (as summarized in the synopsis) is quite complicated (perhaps convoluted), but is actually quite easy to follow. The “story” I wrote above skips several aspects, including: inspector of quality, dog, milkmaid, tractor driver, the accordion player, and the grim reaper. There is considerable humor in not naming many of the characters and calling them by interesting names such as “Anxious-to-Be-Younger-Than-She-Is Dacha Dweller”. The fact that Zina (Veronika Part) and the ballerina (Stella Abrera) are quite different in height helps. I did get confused sometimes by Pyotr (Alexandre Hammoudi) and the ballet dance (Gennadi Saveliev) since they are closer in stature; and their costumes are only slightly different.
I generally do not appreciate comedies as much as, say, tragedies. However, I did find this ballet enjoyable. Even though there was no suspense to the story, and one is pretty sure everything would turn out okay at the end, I still found the story fascinating as it unfolded. The Dacha-dwelling couple put out an especially funny performance. I do wish they would get more serious dancing roles as I am sure they are capable. Hammoudi is probably an up-and-coming star to be given this major role. During the pas de deux with Part he was a bit unsteady at times; nonetheless he generally did a good job. The two ballet dancers (Abrera and Stearns) have to dance as the opposite sex during Act II, generally they mimic the other sex pretty well. I am quite impressed with Stearns’s ability to stand and dance on his tiptoe (I guess the technical term would be "on point") quite well. In general, however, the lady dancer (Abrera) did a more convincing job.
Shostakovich’s music is uncharacteristically simple to follow – perhaps the storyline of the ballet helps to guide the listener. The melodies are very tonal, and close to being singable. The entire work didn’t feel nearly as heavy-duty as some of his other work (even compared to his Symphony No. 1 which I heard a couple of days before.) I have not heard any of his operas, yet I am sure his operas are not quite that easy to follow (I don’t even know if he wrote any.) In the pas de deux of Act II, the cello got quite a work out, and it was nicely done.
It was an enjoyable day overall. I am glad we got to see this ballet. I do hope it will remain in the ABT repertoire for a while despite the disappointing attendance. The New York Times Review is for another set of dancers, and contains a lot of interesting background information, including the fact that Ratmansky (the choreographer of this production) is Artist in Residence at ABT; of course I would know that if I had read the program more carefully.
Monday, June 13, 2011
New York Philharmonic – David Robertson, conductor; Deborah Voight, soprano. June 9, 2011.
Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra 1 (Seat M115, $65).
Program
Symphony No. 1, Op. 10 (1924-25) by Shostakovich (1906-75).
The Isle of the Dead, Symphonic Poem after Arnold Bocklin, Op. 29 (1909) by Rachmaninoff (1873-1943).
Erwartung (Expectation), Monodrama in One Act, Op. 17 (1909) by Schoenberg.
This is an interesting concert, with all three pieces written in the early 20th century. We had tickets for a concert the following week but exchanged them because of an upcoming trip. It started out as a very hot day (it got as high as 100F), but a cold front came through while we were having dinner at Empire Szechuan, and the walk to the parking garage afterwards was delightful.
Shostakovich wrote this symphony when he was 19, as part of his graduation assignment from the St. Petersburg Conservatory, and as such a remarkable piece of work. It sounded much more complex than, say, comparable work of Schubert at this age. It was nonetheless “easy listening” although I am not sure there is a clear message to the music. Shostakovich’s later music tends to be somber and a bit on the dark side (at least most of what I have heard, notable exception being the ballet Bright Stream I saw a couple of days later.) Towards the end the timpani played these notes that are close together in range (maybe as little as a semitone apart); I wonder if that adjustment is done in real time, or were they tuned so close to each other.
The Program Notes mentions Shostakovich referring to this work as “Symphony Grotesque” with the scherzo suggesting skipping dancers perilously out of balance. The other remark says the work is tonal, in F, but hovering between F major or F minor. I frankly didn’t catch either. The four movements are Allegretto, Allegro, Lento (attacca) and Allegro molto.
We are seated in Row M. I am sure we have seated closer to the stage before, but today the music sounded very loud. I can imagine how ear-piercing it must be for someone on stage, especially for those who are close to the percussion and brass sections.
The Isle of the Dead is a painting done by Arnold Bocklin, who painted five versions.
Rachmaninoff was fascinated with the black and white reproduction of this work, but was disappointed by the color of the actual painting. He wrote the music before this, evidently. The piece is about 21 minutes long, starting with a 5/4 tempo for about 10 minutes before moving into 3/4 tempo. It got quite loud after another 5 or so minutes, and eventually got back to the original 5/4 tempo. That I got, but I missed the funeral chant at Dies Irae at the end of the piece.
The Program Notes quotes Rachmaninoff as saying music comes to him in one flash: “and they come: all the voices at once. Not a bit here, a bit there. All. The whole grows.”
There is speculation that Schoenberg wrote Erwartung possibly with the influence of what happened the previous year: his wife Mathilde had an affair with the painter Richard Gerstl. The story talks about a woman wandering in the forest looking for her lover, with different emotions running through her head, and eventually stumbles his murdered corpse. The original libretto implied that the woman murdered her lover, but that was edited out by Schoenberg.
The Program Notes thinks the composition is such that the audience, watching this emotional train-wreck without feeling that it is based in reality, will feel removed and turned into voyeurs. I had trouble following the words. One contributor is that I was so close to the stage that I had to snap my head up and down to read the surtitles and watch the artists. Another is that the words are difficult to fully digest. You get the meaning, but not necessarily the mood. Perhaps if I had studied the text a bit more before hand, it would have helped. For me it just turned out to be puzzling.
I have seen Deborah Voight a few times before (Helen of Egypt and a couple of Ring Operas, for example). Her singing is fine, but not what I would call refined. It is the same here. For some reason there seems to be only one volume setting: loud. I know she can definitely do soft. It is not like she is overwhelmed by the volume of the orchestra (although there were instances of that.) There were passages where she basically sang against one instrument and her voice was clearly the much stronger instrument (the violin, especially.) Half an hour of intensive singing is quite impressive, though.
The New York Times Review has an in-depth critique of Voight’s performance. The reviewer obviously in enamored with David Robertson, calling him “great” and “brilliant.” Well, at least he stopped short of saying that he walks on water.
Program
Symphony No. 1, Op. 10 (1924-25) by Shostakovich (1906-75).
The Isle of the Dead, Symphonic Poem after Arnold Bocklin, Op. 29 (1909) by Rachmaninoff (1873-1943).
Erwartung (Expectation), Monodrama in One Act, Op. 17 (1909) by Schoenberg.
This is an interesting concert, with all three pieces written in the early 20th century. We had tickets for a concert the following week but exchanged them because of an upcoming trip. It started out as a very hot day (it got as high as 100F), but a cold front came through while we were having dinner at Empire Szechuan, and the walk to the parking garage afterwards was delightful.
Shostakovich wrote this symphony when he was 19, as part of his graduation assignment from the St. Petersburg Conservatory, and as such a remarkable piece of work. It sounded much more complex than, say, comparable work of Schubert at this age. It was nonetheless “easy listening” although I am not sure there is a clear message to the music. Shostakovich’s later music tends to be somber and a bit on the dark side (at least most of what I have heard, notable exception being the ballet Bright Stream I saw a couple of days later.) Towards the end the timpani played these notes that are close together in range (maybe as little as a semitone apart); I wonder if that adjustment is done in real time, or were they tuned so close to each other.
The Program Notes mentions Shostakovich referring to this work as “Symphony Grotesque” with the scherzo suggesting skipping dancers perilously out of balance. The other remark says the work is tonal, in F, but hovering between F major or F minor. I frankly didn’t catch either. The four movements are Allegretto, Allegro, Lento (attacca) and Allegro molto.
We are seated in Row M. I am sure we have seated closer to the stage before, but today the music sounded very loud. I can imagine how ear-piercing it must be for someone on stage, especially for those who are close to the percussion and brass sections.
The Isle of the Dead is a painting done by Arnold Bocklin, who painted five versions.
The Program Notes quotes Rachmaninoff as saying music comes to him in one flash: “and they come: all the voices at once. Not a bit here, a bit there. All. The whole grows.”
There is speculation that Schoenberg wrote Erwartung possibly with the influence of what happened the previous year: his wife Mathilde had an affair with the painter Richard Gerstl. The story talks about a woman wandering in the forest looking for her lover, with different emotions running through her head, and eventually stumbles his murdered corpse. The original libretto implied that the woman murdered her lover, but that was edited out by Schoenberg.
The Program Notes thinks the composition is such that the audience, watching this emotional train-wreck without feeling that it is based in reality, will feel removed and turned into voyeurs. I had trouble following the words. One contributor is that I was so close to the stage that I had to snap my head up and down to read the surtitles and watch the artists. Another is that the words are difficult to fully digest. You get the meaning, but not necessarily the mood. Perhaps if I had studied the text a bit more before hand, it would have helped. For me it just turned out to be puzzling.
I have seen Deborah Voight a few times before (Helen of Egypt and a couple of Ring Operas, for example). Her singing is fine, but not what I would call refined. It is the same here. For some reason there seems to be only one volume setting: loud. I know she can definitely do soft. It is not like she is overwhelmed by the volume of the orchestra (although there were instances of that.) There were passages where she basically sang against one instrument and her voice was clearly the much stronger instrument (the violin, especially.) Half an hour of intensive singing is quite impressive, though.
The New York Times Review has an in-depth critique of Voight’s performance. The reviewer obviously in enamored with David Robertson, calling him “great” and “brilliant.” Well, at least he stopped short of saying that he walks on water.
Saturday, June 04, 2011
American Ballet Theater – Neumeier’s Lady of the Camellias. June 3, 2011.
Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center – Dress Circle (Seat A17, $66).
Conductor – Ormsby Wilkins; Roberto Bolle – Armand Duval, Mary Mills Thomas – Nanina, Clinton Luckett – The Duke, Olympia – Hee Seo, Julie Kent – Marguerite Gautier, Manon Lescaut – Gillian Murphy, Des Grieux – David Hallberg; Pianists – Koji Attwood (Acts I & II), Nimrod Peeffer (Prologue & Act II), Emily Wong (Act III).
Story. This is basically another retelling of the novel by Alexandre Dumas, fils, made famous by the Opera La Traviata. The protagonists are named Marguerite and Armand (Verdi renamed them Violetta and Alfredo), and the story is told as Armand’s reminiscene after Marguerite’s death. In the ballet she dies alone and her possessions sold off at auction. The ballet ends with Armand closing the dairy of Marguerite, which was handed to him by her maid Nanina. Intertwined in the plot is another ballet based on Manon Lescaut whose life parallels that of Marguerite.
By my nomenclature which associates a ballet with the composer of music, this should be titled “Chopin’s Lady of the Camellias” as all the music is composed by Chopin. However, Chopin clearly didn’t have this ballet in mind when he wrote his various piano pieces that ended up being used to accompany this ballet. Indeed Dumas wrote the novel in 1848, a year before Chopin’s death. John Neumeier first choreographed this in 1978, and the Programs Notes also attributes to him the lighting design. One would think another choreographer and lighting designer can come along and redo these things, but leave the story and music basically intact. Would the ballet still be considered Neumeier’s? If you go to Amazon.com and search for the music, you will find a 2007 DGG DVD entitled “Chopin – Die Kameliendame” which is how I would have called it. Strange genre, this ballet stuff.
I find the juxtaposition of Manon’s story quite confusing at times. That they tend to dress in different colors help, and I am glad Kent (Marguerite) and Murphy (Manon) look very different. If you simply want to enjoy the ballet dancers and Chopin’s music, it would have worked quite well. But if you want to follow the story, such as it is, then you will have some difficulty: you have both reminiscene and a second story going on, sometimes at the same time.
While searching the web for more information, Anne came across an article that panned this ballet. Among the criticisms is the choreography. I am not even close to being knowledgeable on what constitutes good choreography, yet I did find the dancing mostly uninspired. Without the help of that article, I won’t know why I feel that way. Being the skeptic, naturally I am not sure that’s the (sole) reason. This does not mean there wasn’t great artistry or athleticism, only that it wasn’t as consistent as I would expect.
The music, a Chopin Piano Concerto and various other works (preludes, nocturnes), fits the mood of the ballet. After all, Chopin was a great composer of Romantic music. Act I was basically Chopin’s Piano Concerto (not sure which one); Act II consisted of piano solos (no orchestra); and Act III had a slow movement from another concerto and various other pieces. The pianists did okay, making this a good concert to go to for the music alone.
I wouldn’t call this a great ballet, but there are touching moments, and I certainly enjoyed the 2 hour 45 minute performance (with an hour’s worth of intermission). Between the opera and the ballet, however, I would definitely opt for the opera.
This is Julie Kent’s 25th year with ABT. Tonight probably was the first night of the season for her, and that would explain the extended ovation for her and the many many bouquets of flowers given to her. She tried to acknowledge her coworkers, but the night properly belonged to her. I do feel a bit bad for Gillian Murphy since she had an important role as Manon and danced equally well. She has only 15 years, though, so it will be a while for her.
It was 11 pm when we picked up our car from the 62nd St garage, and West End Ave was unexpectedly busy. Well, relatively busy, since we got home before midnight.
I did find an interesting review of the ballet from last year. The principal dancers were the same. The reviewer isn’t kind, but has considerable insight into what she feels is wrong. NJ.com has a kinder review.
Conductor – Ormsby Wilkins; Roberto Bolle – Armand Duval, Mary Mills Thomas – Nanina, Clinton Luckett – The Duke, Olympia – Hee Seo, Julie Kent – Marguerite Gautier, Manon Lescaut – Gillian Murphy, Des Grieux – David Hallberg; Pianists – Koji Attwood (Acts I & II), Nimrod Peeffer (Prologue & Act II), Emily Wong (Act III).
Story. This is basically another retelling of the novel by Alexandre Dumas, fils, made famous by the Opera La Traviata. The protagonists are named Marguerite and Armand (Verdi renamed them Violetta and Alfredo), and the story is told as Armand’s reminiscene after Marguerite’s death. In the ballet she dies alone and her possessions sold off at auction. The ballet ends with Armand closing the dairy of Marguerite, which was handed to him by her maid Nanina. Intertwined in the plot is another ballet based on Manon Lescaut whose life parallels that of Marguerite.
By my nomenclature which associates a ballet with the composer of music, this should be titled “Chopin’s Lady of the Camellias” as all the music is composed by Chopin. However, Chopin clearly didn’t have this ballet in mind when he wrote his various piano pieces that ended up being used to accompany this ballet. Indeed Dumas wrote the novel in 1848, a year before Chopin’s death. John Neumeier first choreographed this in 1978, and the Programs Notes also attributes to him the lighting design. One would think another choreographer and lighting designer can come along and redo these things, but leave the story and music basically intact. Would the ballet still be considered Neumeier’s? If you go to Amazon.com and search for the music, you will find a 2007 DGG DVD entitled “Chopin – Die Kameliendame” which is how I would have called it. Strange genre, this ballet stuff.
I find the juxtaposition of Manon’s story quite confusing at times. That they tend to dress in different colors help, and I am glad Kent (Marguerite) and Murphy (Manon) look very different. If you simply want to enjoy the ballet dancers and Chopin’s music, it would have worked quite well. But if you want to follow the story, such as it is, then you will have some difficulty: you have both reminiscene and a second story going on, sometimes at the same time.
While searching the web for more information, Anne came across an article that panned this ballet. Among the criticisms is the choreography. I am not even close to being knowledgeable on what constitutes good choreography, yet I did find the dancing mostly uninspired. Without the help of that article, I won’t know why I feel that way. Being the skeptic, naturally I am not sure that’s the (sole) reason. This does not mean there wasn’t great artistry or athleticism, only that it wasn’t as consistent as I would expect.
The music, a Chopin Piano Concerto and various other works (preludes, nocturnes), fits the mood of the ballet. After all, Chopin was a great composer of Romantic music. Act I was basically Chopin’s Piano Concerto (not sure which one); Act II consisted of piano solos (no orchestra); and Act III had a slow movement from another concerto and various other pieces. The pianists did okay, making this a good concert to go to for the music alone.
I wouldn’t call this a great ballet, but there are touching moments, and I certainly enjoyed the 2 hour 45 minute performance (with an hour’s worth of intermission). Between the opera and the ballet, however, I would definitely opt for the opera.
This is Julie Kent’s 25th year with ABT. Tonight probably was the first night of the season for her, and that would explain the extended ovation for her and the many many bouquets of flowers given to her. She tried to acknowledge her coworkers, but the night properly belonged to her. I do feel a bit bad for Gillian Murphy since she had an important role as Manon and danced equally well. She has only 15 years, though, so it will be a while for her.
It was 11 pm when we picked up our car from the 62nd St garage, and West End Ave was unexpectedly busy. Well, relatively busy, since we got home before midnight.
I did find an interesting review of the ballet from last year. The principal dancers were the same. The reviewer isn’t kind, but has considerable insight into what she feels is wrong. NJ.com has a kinder review.
Friday, June 03, 2011
Leon Fleisher, piano; Jaime Laredo, violin. June 2, 2011.
92nd Street Y, Theresa L. Kaufmann Concert Hall, Orchestra (Seat R2, $57).
Program
Sonatina for Violin and Piano in G minor, D. 408 (1816) by Franz Schubert (1797-1828).
Sonatina for Violin and Piano in A minor, D. 385 (1816) by Schubert.
Chaconne from Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004 (1720, arr. Brahms for Left Hand 1877-78) by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750).
“Sheep May Safely Graze” from Cantata No. 208 (1713, arr. Egon Petri 1944) by Bach.
Sonata for Violin and Piano in A major, D. 574, “Grand Duo” (1817) by Schubert.
We saw Leon Fleisher for the first time in Toronto this past April when the program he was to perform had to be modified to accommodate his right hand, which was recovering from surgery. When we found out he was going to perform that program at the 92Y we decided to give it another try, hoping that the hand would be fully healed by then. Evidently that wasn’t to be, we got an announcement a couple of weeks ago saying that Jaime Laredo will now be on the program, performing three works by Schubert. Turns out I saw Laredo, also for the first time, last April, so this was going to be a reunion of some sorts.
Today (i.e., day of the concert, I am writing this a day later) turned out to be a nice day, so naturally traffic began to back up starting mid afternoon. Chung Shu drove in and it was basically quite uneventful, with most delays caused by cross-town traffic. Shirley couldn’t go, and Daphne joined us instead. We had enough time to wolf down a sandwich before the concert.
All of Schubert’s four violin sonatas were published posthumously. He wrote a series of three when he was 19 (Program Notes say 20), and the publisher decided to call them sonatinas so they could reach a wider audience. We heard two of them tonight. While they were not particularly difficult (I am thinking of buying the music to give them a try), they are certainly serious enough pieces to warrant the designation of “sonata.” The last piece we heard was written a year later. It was very different from the first two, Schubert having matured a lot during that time.
The first piece (Sonatina in G minor) contains four movements: Allegro giusto; Andante; Menuetto: Allegro vivace; and Allegro moderato. The second Sonatina’s movements are: Allegro moderato; Andante; Allegro; and Allegro. The Sonata in A major’s movements are: Allegro moderato; Scherzo:Presto; Andantino; and Allegro vivace.
The Program Notes contains good descriptions of the pieces, and I find the sudden changes in mood of the works especially fascinating. Indeed Schubert seemed to be able to, say, go from a major key to a minor key and back to the major key in one line without the music feeling abrupt or disjoint.
In general the musicians sounded good, although both were unsteady at times, and Laredo sometimes had an intonation problem. I am not into chamber music as a listener, and I find it difficult to determine what makes a great performance. I guess one tries to enjoy the individual artists as well as how they work together. In that regard things worked quite well.
The two piano pieces left quite a bit to be desired. Fleisher has a compelling story, staging a comeback in his 70s from an adversity that effectively sidelined him as a soloist for 40 or so years. If one didn’t know whom he was listening to, one would conclude the performance was sloppy, and some rather simple passages were botched. As far as I could tell, the Bach/Petri piece is relatively simple, yet sounded muddled in several places. In that sense Fleisher had a better performance in April in Toronto.
After Brahms arranged the Chaconne for piano left hand, he wrote to Clara Schumann saying how pleased he was with what he had done. The Program Notes quoted the sentence “Now if the greatest violinist is not around, then the best enjoyment is probably just to let it sound in one’s mind” is puzzling. One could ask the question, if Brahms was talking so effusively about the violin piece, why would he bother to transcribe it into a piano piece? The notes at the Toronto concert says Brahms thought it wouldn’t sound quite right if he transcribed it for both hands, thus the decision to do it for the left hand only. The violin and the piano are very different instruments, with the piano being a percussive one. It is difficult, if not impossible, for one instrument to mimic the other well. How one gets the effect of harmony and counterpoint on one instrument is different from how they are generated in the other. While the mimicry worked well in some passages, most of the time it left one scratching one's head. We listened to the violin piece on our return trip (I have it in my iPod) and the piece hangs together very well as written. I can understand writing a piano piece (one hand or two) based on the violin piece, but in this case a transcription didn’t work. There, I critiqued Brahms!
Having said that, there were a couple of places where the counterpoint worked very well.
I have mixed feelings about this performance. The audience was not particularly quiet or circumspect tonight, and someone sitting behind me started a discussion with his friend with “I know his story is compelling, but …” Also, Fleisher is in his 80s, and I assume the physical challenges of piano playing must be catching up with him (surprising little, if his left hand is any indication.) His story is admirable, but at some point one has to concede. Since Fleisher didn't explain why there was a program change, as he had done in Toronto, pity doesn't seem to be something he wants. Reality is harsh.
Turns out I also had one of Fleisher’s early Beethoven recordings (Emperor Concerto) on my iPod and played a bit of it during our drive. It was marvelous.
Program
Sonatina for Violin and Piano in G minor, D. 408 (1816) by Franz Schubert (1797-1828).
Sonatina for Violin and Piano in A minor, D. 385 (1816) by Schubert.
Chaconne from Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004 (1720, arr. Brahms for Left Hand 1877-78) by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750).
“Sheep May Safely Graze” from Cantata No. 208 (1713, arr. Egon Petri 1944) by Bach.
Sonata for Violin and Piano in A major, D. 574, “Grand Duo” (1817) by Schubert.
We saw Leon Fleisher for the first time in Toronto this past April when the program he was to perform had to be modified to accommodate his right hand, which was recovering from surgery. When we found out he was going to perform that program at the 92Y we decided to give it another try, hoping that the hand would be fully healed by then. Evidently that wasn’t to be, we got an announcement a couple of weeks ago saying that Jaime Laredo will now be on the program, performing three works by Schubert. Turns out I saw Laredo, also for the first time, last April, so this was going to be a reunion of some sorts.
Today (i.e., day of the concert, I am writing this a day later) turned out to be a nice day, so naturally traffic began to back up starting mid afternoon. Chung Shu drove in and it was basically quite uneventful, with most delays caused by cross-town traffic. Shirley couldn’t go, and Daphne joined us instead. We had enough time to wolf down a sandwich before the concert.
All of Schubert’s four violin sonatas were published posthumously. He wrote a series of three when he was 19 (Program Notes say 20), and the publisher decided to call them sonatinas so they could reach a wider audience. We heard two of them tonight. While they were not particularly difficult (I am thinking of buying the music to give them a try), they are certainly serious enough pieces to warrant the designation of “sonata.” The last piece we heard was written a year later. It was very different from the first two, Schubert having matured a lot during that time.
The first piece (Sonatina in G minor) contains four movements: Allegro giusto; Andante; Menuetto: Allegro vivace; and Allegro moderato. The second Sonatina’s movements are: Allegro moderato; Andante; Allegro; and Allegro. The Sonata in A major’s movements are: Allegro moderato; Scherzo:Presto; Andantino; and Allegro vivace.
The Program Notes contains good descriptions of the pieces, and I find the sudden changes in mood of the works especially fascinating. Indeed Schubert seemed to be able to, say, go from a major key to a minor key and back to the major key in one line without the music feeling abrupt or disjoint.
In general the musicians sounded good, although both were unsteady at times, and Laredo sometimes had an intonation problem. I am not into chamber music as a listener, and I find it difficult to determine what makes a great performance. I guess one tries to enjoy the individual artists as well as how they work together. In that regard things worked quite well.
The two piano pieces left quite a bit to be desired. Fleisher has a compelling story, staging a comeback in his 70s from an adversity that effectively sidelined him as a soloist for 40 or so years. If one didn’t know whom he was listening to, one would conclude the performance was sloppy, and some rather simple passages were botched. As far as I could tell, the Bach/Petri piece is relatively simple, yet sounded muddled in several places. In that sense Fleisher had a better performance in April in Toronto.
After Brahms arranged the Chaconne for piano left hand, he wrote to Clara Schumann saying how pleased he was with what he had done. The Program Notes quoted the sentence “Now if the greatest violinist is not around, then the best enjoyment is probably just to let it sound in one’s mind” is puzzling. One could ask the question, if Brahms was talking so effusively about the violin piece, why would he bother to transcribe it into a piano piece? The notes at the Toronto concert says Brahms thought it wouldn’t sound quite right if he transcribed it for both hands, thus the decision to do it for the left hand only. The violin and the piano are very different instruments, with the piano being a percussive one. It is difficult, if not impossible, for one instrument to mimic the other well. How one gets the effect of harmony and counterpoint on one instrument is different from how they are generated in the other. While the mimicry worked well in some passages, most of the time it left one scratching one's head. We listened to the violin piece on our return trip (I have it in my iPod) and the piece hangs together very well as written. I can understand writing a piano piece (one hand or two) based on the violin piece, but in this case a transcription didn’t work. There, I critiqued Brahms!
Having said that, there were a couple of places where the counterpoint worked very well.
I have mixed feelings about this performance. The audience was not particularly quiet or circumspect tonight, and someone sitting behind me started a discussion with his friend with “I know his story is compelling, but …” Also, Fleisher is in his 80s, and I assume the physical challenges of piano playing must be catching up with him (surprising little, if his left hand is any indication.) His story is admirable, but at some point one has to concede. Since Fleisher didn't explain why there was a program change, as he had done in Toronto, pity doesn't seem to be something he wants. Reality is harsh.
Turns out I also had one of Fleisher’s early Beethoven recordings (Emperor Concerto) on my iPod and played a bit of it during our drive. It was marvelous.
PBS Great Performance Broadcast – Carnegie Hall’s 120th Anniversary Concert. May 31, 2011.
South Amboy, NJ
Program
Carnival Overture by Dvorak
Triple Concerto by Beethoven
--- Yo-Yo Ma, cello; Gil Shaham, violin; Emanuel Ax, piano
Songs by Duke Ellingthon
--- Solitude
--- Sophisticated Lady
--- It don’t Mean a Thing
--- Audra McDonald, soloist
An American in Paris by Gershwin
This program was performed by New York Philharmonic, with Alan Gilbert conducting, as part of the celebration of Carnegie Hall’s 120th Anniversary. The actual performance occurred on May 6, I believe. Anne and I saw the PBS broadcast in the comfort of our house.
I usually can’t sit through a TV program such as this, but certainly had no trouble doing so with this one. The program lasted less than 90 minutes, which is typically the amount of music one gets to hear in a concert. One good thing is that they didn’t show chairs being reshuffled in between pieces, nor was there an intermission.
To me, writing a review about it would be weird, and I don’t intend to do so. Not much, anyway. Even though it is a recording of a live performance, the balance of the soloists and the orchestra can be worked out such that every part sounds clear. You don’t get that great balance sitting in the auditorium. And the brass instruments sounded excellent.
One other remark I want to make is about Beethoven’s Triple Concerto. The three soloists certainly worked very well together, and Yo-Yo Ma seemed to enjoy himself tremendously. The New York Times Review pointed out Beethoven never wrote a cello concerto, and many cellists consider this work to be the closest approximation to one. Dicterow excused himself, but Brey didn’t; and Ma didn’t shake the principal cellist hand effusively (as he did at the concert late last year.)
NYT says McDonald sang four songs; I remember only three, and don’t recall falling asleep. Missing from my list is "On a Turquoise Cloud."
The NYT review is quite informative. The reviewer wanted more contemporary music for the program; I thought it was just right (well, I had to "suffer through" the Ellington pieces, jazz not being a favorite genre of mine). 120 years ago it was to mark the “birth” of the concert hall, and no one had any idea how its role in classical music would evolve, so there was really not much to guide the program. After more than a century, there is certainly a rich history to remember the place by. One could even argue perhaps they should perform the pieces that got played most often in the Hall’s history. Now that I mentioned it, I wonder what they are.
Tickets for the actual concert were quite expensive, and people were dressed more formally than usual for an evening concert in New York. I am not sure I am comfortable with that, even though I would have found the concert very enjoyable.
Program
Carnival Overture by Dvorak
Triple Concerto by Beethoven
--- Yo-Yo Ma, cello; Gil Shaham, violin; Emanuel Ax, piano
Songs by Duke Ellingthon
--- Solitude
--- Sophisticated Lady
--- It don’t Mean a Thing
--- Audra McDonald, soloist
An American in Paris by Gershwin
This program was performed by New York Philharmonic, with Alan Gilbert conducting, as part of the celebration of Carnegie Hall’s 120th Anniversary. The actual performance occurred on May 6, I believe. Anne and I saw the PBS broadcast in the comfort of our house.
I usually can’t sit through a TV program such as this, but certainly had no trouble doing so with this one. The program lasted less than 90 minutes, which is typically the amount of music one gets to hear in a concert. One good thing is that they didn’t show chairs being reshuffled in between pieces, nor was there an intermission.
To me, writing a review about it would be weird, and I don’t intend to do so. Not much, anyway. Even though it is a recording of a live performance, the balance of the soloists and the orchestra can be worked out such that every part sounds clear. You don’t get that great balance sitting in the auditorium. And the brass instruments sounded excellent.
One other remark I want to make is about Beethoven’s Triple Concerto. The three soloists certainly worked very well together, and Yo-Yo Ma seemed to enjoy himself tremendously. The New York Times Review pointed out Beethoven never wrote a cello concerto, and many cellists consider this work to be the closest approximation to one. Dicterow excused himself, but Brey didn’t; and Ma didn’t shake the principal cellist hand effusively (as he did at the concert late last year.)
NYT says McDonald sang four songs; I remember only three, and don’t recall falling asleep. Missing from my list is "On a Turquoise Cloud."
The NYT review is quite informative. The reviewer wanted more contemporary music for the program; I thought it was just right (well, I had to "suffer through" the Ellington pieces, jazz not being a favorite genre of mine). 120 years ago it was to mark the “birth” of the concert hall, and no one had any idea how its role in classical music would evolve, so there was really not much to guide the program. After more than a century, there is certainly a rich history to remember the place by. One could even argue perhaps they should perform the pieces that got played most often in the Hall’s history. Now that I mentioned it, I wonder what they are.
Tickets for the actual concert were quite expensive, and people were dressed more formally than usual for an evening concert in New York. I am not sure I am comfortable with that, even though I would have found the concert very enjoyable.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
American Ballet Theater – Adolphe Adam’s Giselle. May 27, 2011.
Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center – Dress Circle (Seat E14, $75).
Conductor – Charles Barker; Giselle – Diana Vishneva, Count Albrecht – Marcelo Gomes, Hilarian – Gennadi Saveliev, Berthe – Susan Jones, Peasants (pas de Deux) – Maria Riccetto & Jared Matthews, Myrta – Veronika Part, Moyna – Isabella Boylston, Zulma – Yuriko Kajiya.
Story. Giselle falls in love with Count Albrecht, who disguises himself as the peasant Loys. Hilarion the huntsman is also in love with Giselle, and finds out the true identity of Loys. When Giselle finds out, and that Albrecht is also engaged to be married to someone else, she dies of a broken heart. She becomes a wili, a restless spirit who has died with her love unrequited, and is initiated into the wili sisterhood by the queen Myrta. These wilis roam the earth at night and kill any males they trap by forcing them to dance to their deaths. Hilarion is killed this way. When the wilis trap Albrecht, Giselle protects him by staying with him until the clock strikes four, at which point the wilis lose their power. Albrecht is thus rescued.
Today is the day before the Memorial Day Weekend, and all the traffic reports were indicating tie-ups at the various Hudson Crossings and in New York City. We decided to try to drive in and left a bit before 5 pm (the performance was to start at 7:30 pm), and got to the parking garage at around 6 pm, the traffic tie-ups we encountered were minimal to non-existent. We ate at Sushi A-Go-Go. We hadn’t been there for a while, the prices didn’t seem to be much higher than we remembered them.
The ballet certainly is very well-known, and Anne claims many tunes should be quite familiar. That turns out not be the case. However, some tunes were used so many times that by the end of the ballet I wasn’t so sure anymore. Overall the music is disappointing; it has a very saccharine feel to it, sounding like what you would expect in a ballroom with light waltzes playing in the background. The orchestra’s lack of dynamic range also contributed to this assessment.
Those were a couple of the disappointments I felt after the first Act. The actual story contains more detail that the synopsis I wrote above, and the artists did more acting out the storyline than dancing a ballet performance. Yet things were confusing for me at many places. It is never made clear whether Giselle was engaged to Hilarion – which would raise a whole different set of issues. There were a couple of dances performed by Giselle that seemed quite difficult, and she did them well. The costume designer did a great job, the colors just looked great and well balanced. Giselle’s death scene somehow reminds me of Lucia’s mad scene in Lucia de Lammermoor. She dropped to the ground at least four times before she died; even though I didn’t want her to die, I still couldn’t but wish “die already.”
I was ready to conclude that what we have is a light-weight ballet, light-weight music, light-weight orchestra, and a light-weight cast, which probably is a good combination for a light-weight viewer (like myself.) And as such it was an enjoyable Act I.
The second Act, however, saw a lot more serious ballet. We saw Veronika Part as Odette/Odile in Swan Lake a few years ago, and she was the headliner for this performance. She played the role of Myrta in this ballet and had a relatively limited role. In any case, there were a few more virtuoso performances by the principals, and the choreography was more traditional.
Overall, the ballet is okay, but didn’t quite live up to my perception of its reputation. It is, afterall, the “oldest continually-performed ballet,” premiering in Paris in June, 1841.
One other note, I called this piece “Adam’s Giselle,” as in “music by Adophe Adam.” I am not sure this is the proper attribution as one can argue many others played important roles in bringing the work together.
Conductor – Charles Barker; Giselle – Diana Vishneva, Count Albrecht – Marcelo Gomes, Hilarian – Gennadi Saveliev, Berthe – Susan Jones, Peasants (pas de Deux) – Maria Riccetto & Jared Matthews, Myrta – Veronika Part, Moyna – Isabella Boylston, Zulma – Yuriko Kajiya.
Story. Giselle falls in love with Count Albrecht, who disguises himself as the peasant Loys. Hilarion the huntsman is also in love with Giselle, and finds out the true identity of Loys. When Giselle finds out, and that Albrecht is also engaged to be married to someone else, she dies of a broken heart. She becomes a wili, a restless spirit who has died with her love unrequited, and is initiated into the wili sisterhood by the queen Myrta. These wilis roam the earth at night and kill any males they trap by forcing them to dance to their deaths. Hilarion is killed this way. When the wilis trap Albrecht, Giselle protects him by staying with him until the clock strikes four, at which point the wilis lose their power. Albrecht is thus rescued.
Today is the day before the Memorial Day Weekend, and all the traffic reports were indicating tie-ups at the various Hudson Crossings and in New York City. We decided to try to drive in and left a bit before 5 pm (the performance was to start at 7:30 pm), and got to the parking garage at around 6 pm, the traffic tie-ups we encountered were minimal to non-existent. We ate at Sushi A-Go-Go. We hadn’t been there for a while, the prices didn’t seem to be much higher than we remembered them.
The ballet certainly is very well-known, and Anne claims many tunes should be quite familiar. That turns out not be the case. However, some tunes were used so many times that by the end of the ballet I wasn’t so sure anymore. Overall the music is disappointing; it has a very saccharine feel to it, sounding like what you would expect in a ballroom with light waltzes playing in the background. The orchestra’s lack of dynamic range also contributed to this assessment.
Those were a couple of the disappointments I felt after the first Act. The actual story contains more detail that the synopsis I wrote above, and the artists did more acting out the storyline than dancing a ballet performance. Yet things were confusing for me at many places. It is never made clear whether Giselle was engaged to Hilarion – which would raise a whole different set of issues. There were a couple of dances performed by Giselle that seemed quite difficult, and she did them well. The costume designer did a great job, the colors just looked great and well balanced. Giselle’s death scene somehow reminds me of Lucia’s mad scene in Lucia de Lammermoor. She dropped to the ground at least four times before she died; even though I didn’t want her to die, I still couldn’t but wish “die already.”
I was ready to conclude that what we have is a light-weight ballet, light-weight music, light-weight orchestra, and a light-weight cast, which probably is a good combination for a light-weight viewer (like myself.) And as such it was an enjoyable Act I.
The second Act, however, saw a lot more serious ballet. We saw Veronika Part as Odette/Odile in Swan Lake a few years ago, and she was the headliner for this performance. She played the role of Myrta in this ballet and had a relatively limited role. In any case, there were a few more virtuoso performances by the principals, and the choreography was more traditional.
Overall, the ballet is okay, but didn’t quite live up to my perception of its reputation. It is, afterall, the “oldest continually-performed ballet,” premiering in Paris in June, 1841.
One other note, I called this piece “Adam’s Giselle,” as in “music by Adophe Adam.” I am not sure this is the proper attribution as one can argue many others played important roles in bringing the work together.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Hong Kong Philharmonic Orchestra – Dmitri Jurowski, conductor; Sol Gabetta, cello. May 14, 2011.
Hong Kong Cultural Center Concert Hall, Balcony (Seat I104, HK$320).
Program
Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104 (1896) by Dvorak (1841-1904).
Symphony No. 15 in A, Op. 141 (1971) by Shostakovich (1906-1975).
I was walking around in Causeway Bay yesterday and decided to see if there was anything interesting going on in the Classical music scene. So I went into Tom Lee and found this brochure on “Dvorak’s Cello Concerto.” I didn’t know the cellist, but the name “Jurowski” caught my attention. I see the name in Avery Fisher Hall a lot, but had never heard a concert by him, so I decided to go with it. After I bought the ticket, I realized that it was Vladimir whose name is all over town (New York City in this case) instead of Dmitri. Subsequent “research” (i.e., google search) led to the realization that Vladimir and Dmitri are brothers, and that their father Mikhail was also a conductor. (Thus the full name of Dmitri Mikhailovich Jurowski.) Vladimir is seven years older (born 1972) and, according to Wikipedia, took Dmitri to Germany in 1990. There is little mention of Vladimir in the writeup in today’s program, sibling rivalry, or too much of a shadow to live under, perhaps?
I thought the last time I heard the Dvorak concerto was the formidable combination of Yo-yo Ma, Gustavo Dudamel, and the Vienna Philharmonic. Turns out that wasn't the case (it was a Schumann concerto), and I actually couldn’t find any blog entry on this concerto. Nonetheless I was quite familiar with it, perhaps due to the many singable melodies in the piece. With that in mind, my imagination kind of dictated how a performance of this concerto should sound, and naturally tonight’s performance didn’t live close to that perception.
The concerto consists of three movements and lasts about 40 minutes. Brahms, who was one of Dvorak’s first admirers, famously said he would have written one had he known such great composition could be written. Indeed it is a beautiful work, if a bit on the simple side.
The first movement (Allegro) basically consisted of two themes with intervening development. It actually sounded very good, the cello coming across beautifully. The second movement (Adagio ma non troppo) was the most complex of the three movements, most of the time the lines were clean, but the timpani sounded muddled at times. The last movement (Finale: Allegro moderato) dragged on a bit, and the concertmaster had a solo passage that wasn’t particularly well-done. Dvorak rewrote the ending to reflect the sadness of mourning his sister’s death.
While the performance was generally good, and the cellist showed quite a bit of brilliance, there was something missing. One notable issue was the lack of coordination between the cellist and the orchestra. The latter seemed to be more of an accompaniment than an equal partner. The give and take between the soloist and the orchestra wasn’t consistent. Nonetheless, this is Dvorak, and any reasonable performance would be enjoyable.
Gabetta played an encore whose name I didn’t get. It was not so much a virtuoso piece (there were enough double stops and harmonics) as it was to showcase what sounds one could make with the cello. At some point she sang along (in harmony) with the playing. Interesting, but she should keep her regular job. The piece had potential: I am sure I would appreciate it more if I get to listen to it again.
Argentine-born Gabetta is quite young, but has been on the scene since 2004. She plays the "rare and precious" cello by G. B. Guadagnini from 1759. (I am writing this down for the record.)
The Program Notes describes this concert as one of endings. Dvorak’s was his last concerto, and Shostakovich’s was his last symphony. Shostakovich suffered from various diseases and indeed had a second heart attack soon after completing this, his last symphony. The symphony was also about 40 minutes long. However, the symphony wasn’t particular sad or macabre.
This symphony is what I would call a percussionist’s dream, listed in the instrumentation are: timpani, celesta, xylophone, triangle, glockenspiel, vibraphone, snare drum, castanets, woodblocks, and tam-tam. I think they missed the cymbals. And they had about five percussionist in addition to the timpani player.
The program notes says the London premiere of the piece drew laughter from the audience due to its frequent and often bizarre musical quotations. I would call them interesting, but not funny or bizarre. The first movement (Allegretto) had five references to the William Tell Overture, which Shostakovich claimed to be his first musical memory. There was quite a bit of violin solo also, and I have to say the concertmaster redeemed himself (he is actually the first associate concertmaster, there being no concertmaster listed in the roster). He figured prominently in this work, and generally did very well. Mention must also be made of the trombone, the playing was simply exquisite. The second movement (Adagio) is described as the emotional center of the symphony, and contained references to the 11th and 14th symphonies. Well, I do not know those two symphonies. It ended with a xylophone solo. The bassoons started the third movement (Allegretto) without pause, and it was rather short. The last movement (Adagio) began with a 3-note Wagner Ring Leitmotif which I recognized (or it is so simple that I am sure it was in the Ring) but didn’t know was called “fate.” At this point the orchestra seemed to have lost some of the energy of the earlier movements. You could anticipate the ending when the percussionists all started to move into position. Again I didn’t know the ending passage which was derived from the fourth symphony; but it was interesting that it was withheld by Shostakovich for 25 or so years due to its lack of political correctness.
The overall piece sounded much simpler than I expected, and Shostakovich – at least in this symphony – dished out solo lines to nearly all of the sections. Dmitri Jurowski was quite economical in his movements, but managed to elicit a good performance, by and large, from the players. His brother’s place in the musical scene seems secure, I wonder how it would turn out for him.
As to the orchestra, I am impressed with how they make Shostakovich look easy. Perhaps de Waart really has done something with the group. I hope whoever follows him will be equally effective.
Oh, there is none of this business of the concertmaster (and sometimes section leaders) excusing himself when there is a soloist. And it worked well.
I am glad I went. By the time I got back to Taipo, it was 11 pm.
Program
Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104 (1896) by Dvorak (1841-1904).
Symphony No. 15 in A, Op. 141 (1971) by Shostakovich (1906-1975).
I was walking around in Causeway Bay yesterday and decided to see if there was anything interesting going on in the Classical music scene. So I went into Tom Lee and found this brochure on “Dvorak’s Cello Concerto.” I didn’t know the cellist, but the name “Jurowski” caught my attention. I see the name in Avery Fisher Hall a lot, but had never heard a concert by him, so I decided to go with it. After I bought the ticket, I realized that it was Vladimir whose name is all over town (New York City in this case) instead of Dmitri. Subsequent “research” (i.e., google search) led to the realization that Vladimir and Dmitri are brothers, and that their father Mikhail was also a conductor. (Thus the full name of Dmitri Mikhailovich Jurowski.) Vladimir is seven years older (born 1972) and, according to Wikipedia, took Dmitri to Germany in 1990. There is little mention of Vladimir in the writeup in today’s program, sibling rivalry, or too much of a shadow to live under, perhaps?
I thought the last time I heard the Dvorak concerto was the formidable combination of Yo-yo Ma, Gustavo Dudamel, and the Vienna Philharmonic. Turns out that wasn't the case (it was a Schumann concerto), and I actually couldn’t find any blog entry on this concerto. Nonetheless I was quite familiar with it, perhaps due to the many singable melodies in the piece. With that in mind, my imagination kind of dictated how a performance of this concerto should sound, and naturally tonight’s performance didn’t live close to that perception.
The concerto consists of three movements and lasts about 40 minutes. Brahms, who was one of Dvorak’s first admirers, famously said he would have written one had he known such great composition could be written. Indeed it is a beautiful work, if a bit on the simple side.
The first movement (Allegro) basically consisted of two themes with intervening development. It actually sounded very good, the cello coming across beautifully. The second movement (Adagio ma non troppo) was the most complex of the three movements, most of the time the lines were clean, but the timpani sounded muddled at times. The last movement (Finale: Allegro moderato) dragged on a bit, and the concertmaster had a solo passage that wasn’t particularly well-done. Dvorak rewrote the ending to reflect the sadness of mourning his sister’s death.
While the performance was generally good, and the cellist showed quite a bit of brilliance, there was something missing. One notable issue was the lack of coordination between the cellist and the orchestra. The latter seemed to be more of an accompaniment than an equal partner. The give and take between the soloist and the orchestra wasn’t consistent. Nonetheless, this is Dvorak, and any reasonable performance would be enjoyable.
Gabetta played an encore whose name I didn’t get. It was not so much a virtuoso piece (there were enough double stops and harmonics) as it was to showcase what sounds one could make with the cello. At some point she sang along (in harmony) with the playing. Interesting, but she should keep her regular job. The piece had potential: I am sure I would appreciate it more if I get to listen to it again.
Argentine-born Gabetta is quite young, but has been on the scene since 2004. She plays the "rare and precious" cello by G. B. Guadagnini from 1759. (I am writing this down for the record.)
The Program Notes describes this concert as one of endings. Dvorak’s was his last concerto, and Shostakovich’s was his last symphony. Shostakovich suffered from various diseases and indeed had a second heart attack soon after completing this, his last symphony. The symphony was also about 40 minutes long. However, the symphony wasn’t particular sad or macabre.
This symphony is what I would call a percussionist’s dream, listed in the instrumentation are: timpani, celesta, xylophone, triangle, glockenspiel, vibraphone, snare drum, castanets, woodblocks, and tam-tam. I think they missed the cymbals. And they had about five percussionist in addition to the timpani player.
The program notes says the London premiere of the piece drew laughter from the audience due to its frequent and often bizarre musical quotations. I would call them interesting, but not funny or bizarre. The first movement (Allegretto) had five references to the William Tell Overture, which Shostakovich claimed to be his first musical memory. There was quite a bit of violin solo also, and I have to say the concertmaster redeemed himself (he is actually the first associate concertmaster, there being no concertmaster listed in the roster). He figured prominently in this work, and generally did very well. Mention must also be made of the trombone, the playing was simply exquisite. The second movement (Adagio) is described as the emotional center of the symphony, and contained references to the 11th and 14th symphonies. Well, I do not know those two symphonies. It ended with a xylophone solo. The bassoons started the third movement (Allegretto) without pause, and it was rather short. The last movement (Adagio) began with a 3-note Wagner Ring Leitmotif which I recognized (or it is so simple that I am sure it was in the Ring) but didn’t know was called “fate.” At this point the orchestra seemed to have lost some of the energy of the earlier movements. You could anticipate the ending when the percussionists all started to move into position. Again I didn’t know the ending passage which was derived from the fourth symphony; but it was interesting that it was withheld by Shostakovich for 25 or so years due to its lack of political correctness.
The overall piece sounded much simpler than I expected, and Shostakovich – at least in this symphony – dished out solo lines to nearly all of the sections. Dmitri Jurowski was quite economical in his movements, but managed to elicit a good performance, by and large, from the players. His brother’s place in the musical scene seems secure, I wonder how it would turn out for him.
As to the orchestra, I am impressed with how they make Shostakovich look easy. Perhaps de Waart really has done something with the group. I hope whoever follows him will be equally effective.
Oh, there is none of this business of the concertmaster (and sometimes section leaders) excusing himself when there is a soloist. And it worked well.
I am glad I went. By the time I got back to Taipo, it was 11 pm.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
The House of Dancing Water. May 9, 2011.
City of Dreams Dancing Water Theater, Macau, Section 300, Seat H311 (HK$680).
This is not a concert review.
Ling suggested this show as part of our short side-trip to Macau. Advertisements say the production costs $2B Hong Kong Dollars (about US$250M), so my curiosity is certainly piqued. The show is created and directed by Franco Dragone.
I came away thinking this is nothing more than an acrobat show over a large water tank with special audiovisual effects, and not the best acrobatic show at that. As to the $250M, it must be a bit like how the Metropolitan Opera’s Ring staging costs $15M: something not quite living up to the expectations that come with such huge budgets. And in this case I hope it includes the apparently purpose-built theater which I estimate seats a couple of thousand people (2000 seats per some web pages), otherwise someone got ripped off.
When you sit through the show, you know there is a story they are trying to tell. Indeed their official webpage does provide a plot. I didn’t read it before the show, and even after watching it I must say nothing remotely like what is described in the plot happens. You know there are good people and bad people, and that a hero is trying to reach a heroine, but you have no idea why he eventually succeeds. I can certainly tolerate a lot of missing lines and poetic license, but the actually enacted story is simply beyond redemption (well, a little strong, but not entirely unfair). I can’t avoid comparing this with a ballet which manages to tell a coherent story, usually.
The staging is quite impressive, though. They manage to move solid platforms onto the water surface very quickly, and on top of that put in many fountains. And the audio-visual effects are quite impressive. There are a lot of aerial activities with all kinds of wiring harnesses. I kept worrying things would get tangled up and to their credit that never happened. And there are some very high dives (maybe from over 100 feet) that are quite spectacular. The motorcycle show is also quite impressive, six of them zipping around a very small stage doing coordinated jumps. I image there is a lot of computer controls and those seem to work very well. Also, there must be a lot of physical demands on the athletes.
However, the “precision” aspects are not quite there. For instance, there is this cage with 20 or so athletes/dancers doing choreographed movements, but they all seem to be doing their own things. (Compare with ballet or synchronized swimming.) Now if I am hanging on someone’s arm while dangling 50 or so feet in the air, precision is perhaps not the first thing I concentrate on. But if they are not good enough to do that, they shouldn’t try.
A great disappointing is the music. It probably is original, but it is quite boring. In my view they should spend some funds commissioning someone to compose (say) musical-like music. What we have is an artificial blend of western- and oriental-style music. As in a Cirque de Soleil show, the music is a combination of live and taped. At curtain call the four musicians came out to take a bow.
The show uses a contortionist who can bend his limbs in strange ways and fit into small spaces. I usually getting a laugh by making fun of people that way somehow degrading, and feel the same way here. Of course that may be one way for the gentleman to make a decent living.
My overall opinion is this would be a good show if it doesn’t pretend to be more than its creators are capable of making it to be. In that sense it has many parallels with a CdS show, trying to go beyond a traditional circus or acrobat show, but not quite making it.
So, if you find yourself in Macau and really can’t think of anything to do, this show is for you.
This is not a concert review.
Ling suggested this show as part of our short side-trip to Macau. Advertisements say the production costs $2B Hong Kong Dollars (about US$250M), so my curiosity is certainly piqued. The show is created and directed by Franco Dragone.
I came away thinking this is nothing more than an acrobat show over a large water tank with special audiovisual effects, and not the best acrobatic show at that. As to the $250M, it must be a bit like how the Metropolitan Opera’s Ring staging costs $15M: something not quite living up to the expectations that come with such huge budgets. And in this case I hope it includes the apparently purpose-built theater which I estimate seats a couple of thousand people (2000 seats per some web pages), otherwise someone got ripped off.
When you sit through the show, you know there is a story they are trying to tell. Indeed their official webpage does provide a plot. I didn’t read it before the show, and even after watching it I must say nothing remotely like what is described in the plot happens. You know there are good people and bad people, and that a hero is trying to reach a heroine, but you have no idea why he eventually succeeds. I can certainly tolerate a lot of missing lines and poetic license, but the actually enacted story is simply beyond redemption (well, a little strong, but not entirely unfair). I can’t avoid comparing this with a ballet which manages to tell a coherent story, usually.
The staging is quite impressive, though. They manage to move solid platforms onto the water surface very quickly, and on top of that put in many fountains. And the audio-visual effects are quite impressive. There are a lot of aerial activities with all kinds of wiring harnesses. I kept worrying things would get tangled up and to their credit that never happened. And there are some very high dives (maybe from over 100 feet) that are quite spectacular. The motorcycle show is also quite impressive, six of them zipping around a very small stage doing coordinated jumps. I image there is a lot of computer controls and those seem to work very well. Also, there must be a lot of physical demands on the athletes.
However, the “precision” aspects are not quite there. For instance, there is this cage with 20 or so athletes/dancers doing choreographed movements, but they all seem to be doing their own things. (Compare with ballet or synchronized swimming.) Now if I am hanging on someone’s arm while dangling 50 or so feet in the air, precision is perhaps not the first thing I concentrate on. But if they are not good enough to do that, they shouldn’t try.
A great disappointing is the music. It probably is original, but it is quite boring. In my view they should spend some funds commissioning someone to compose (say) musical-like music. What we have is an artificial blend of western- and oriental-style music. As in a Cirque de Soleil show, the music is a combination of live and taped. At curtain call the four musicians came out to take a bow.
The show uses a contortionist who can bend his limbs in strange ways and fit into small spaces. I usually getting a laugh by making fun of people that way somehow degrading, and feel the same way here. Of course that may be one way for the gentleman to make a decent living.
My overall opinion is this would be a good show if it doesn’t pretend to be more than its creators are capable of making it to be. In that sense it has many parallels with a CdS show, trying to go beyond a traditional circus or acrobat show, but not quite making it.
So, if you find yourself in Macau and really can’t think of anything to do, this show is for you.
Metropolitan Opera – Wagner’s Die Walkure. May 5, 2011.
Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Family Circle Seat I218 ($27.50).
Story. See previous blog.
Conductor – Derrick Inouye; Siegmund – Jonas Kaufmann, Sieglinde – Eva-Marie Westbroek, Hunding – Hans-Peter Konig, Wotan – Bryn Terfel, Brunnhilde – Deborah Voight, Fricka – Stephanie Blythe.
The Yangs couldn’t make this opera because of the birth of their granddaughter (good excuse), and they gave their tickets to CM and his daughter Faith. Because of President Obama’s plans to be in New York City, we were a bit worried about traffic so we left at around 3:45 pm for the 6:30 concert. I really wanted to drive in and park at Lincoln Center because the opera was going to end late at around 11:45 pm. Turned out there wasn’t really that much traffic, so we got to Lincoln Center at about 5 pm, and had enough time for me to buy tickets for a couple of upcoming ABT performances, and a quick dinner at Ollie’s.
In the Playbill there is an insert saying James Levine is ill, and Derrick Inouye will be conducting. I tend to believe these announcements, but recall a conversation with Sharon at another opera where they had a substitute for Gergiev where she insisted they put out these big names to attract patrons while planning to make the substitutes all along. If this happens again I will begin to adopt Sharon’s view.
The same 24x3 plank arrangement was used for the second of the Ring operas. Among the different scenes were: forest, Hunding’s house, rocks, mountain, and horses. Given where we sat (way up in the Family Circle section), the lighting gave a 3-dimensional effect to the flat surfaces. They had this painted-on feel to them; one could tell they were projections because of the shadows cast when people walked in front of them – most of the time they hid it well with spot lights on the people. Anne, who saw this set for the first time, was quite impressed. In fact the arrangements were simpler than those in Das Rheingold, but I am still somewhat impressed with what they managed to do with it. Still not worth the $15M. Even though the scenes still evoked Cirque de Soleil, they were not nearly as overt. No marching people, much less use of wires to suspend actors, and generally not as much rhythmic movement.
This is the third time I saw this particular opera. The first was about three years back, at the Met, with Lorin Maazel conducting, and Deborah Voight singing the role of Sieglinde (she is doing Brunnhilde this season). The second was part of the Seattle Opera Ring Cycle we went to a couple of years ago. I don’t remember it very well, but I think the Maazel performance was the best one. Perhaps other factors contributed to how I feel: it was the first Ring opera we saw, we were seated in a box which had a clear view of the conductor and how he engaged with the artists (even though they were partial view seats), the set was a “realistic” one so I didn’t have to spend mental energy conjuring things up, and I may simply go with the reputation of the conductor (can’t be, can it?).
In general the singers did very well. Teufel had a lot of lines and in general did quite well, although his voice was inexplicably weak in some places. Konig as Hundig sang strongly; Westbroek (Sieglinde) had a sweet voice and rendered an appropriately helpless Sieglinde caught up by fate. Kaufman, Voight, and Blythe all sang beautifully although Kaufman was weak compared to Konig.
The first act began a little slowly. There isn’t a lot of action in this act, so if one is not caught up in the story or the music then one has to struggle to stay away. I indeed found myself drifting off a couple of times. Things improved as the performance went on though, and some of the dialog in Acts 2 and 3 was very engaging.
One scene worth mentioning is the beginning of Act 3. The eight Valkyries were riding horses (inverted Vs formed by planks, naturally), and they slid down to the main stage. At first I couldn’t quite tell what they were doing, but via binoculars found out they were collecting skeletons into sacks; macabre, yet clever. And I also thought they would lead the dead warriors to Valhalla in human form. And the eight ladies could make a lot of noise. Many Wagner scholars (and some nuts) try to distinguish the characteristics of each of the eight Valkyries, I think it is a waste of time. (I may have remarked on this before, but I am inside a plane right now – CO99 Newark to Hong Kong – and don’t have access to my prior posts.)
Even though this is the third time I saw this opera, there were still things I didn’t know until now. Brunnhilde is actually the daughter of Wotan and Erda, and Hundig is the son of Albrecht the Nibelung. Just in this opera Wotan has three wives (third one being the twins’ mother), I wonder if he had others in the other three operas. I also didn’t know Brunnhilde explicitly told Sieglinde she would try to save Siegmund despite Wotan’s explicit instructions to the contrary (that would explain Wotan’s wrath). There is also a major inconsistency: Brunnhilde said another who saw her face would die, but that evidently didn’t apply to Sieglinde. The Program Notes also says this story happens on earth: not quite true as I assume the start of Act 3 took place in Valhalla. Interestingly I don’t remember being puzzled by references to Das Rheingold when I saw Die Walkure for the first time, I now have more questions about the consistency of the story. Also, what happened to Siegmund after he was killed, was he brought to Valhalla?
It also occurred to me one reason I am finding new things about the opera is that there were invariably periods I dozed off during a performance (it is five hours long, after all) so some details would elude me. Of course, being forgetful could also explain some (or most) of it.
One nice surprise was our seats were quite decent, given how inexpensive they were. The acoustics was good – understandable since we could practically touch the ceiling, and with a good pair of binoculars we could see quite a bit of details.
On our way back we got to talk about this a bit. Faith was particularly enthusiastic, wondering how these singers managed to sing for so long. She is taking voice lessons and is considering a major in voice in college. We were surprised how busy traffic was close to midnight, perhaps residual effects from the Presidential visit. We got home before 1 am, driving in and parking at Lincoln Center worked out for us.
Story. See previous blog.
Conductor – Derrick Inouye; Siegmund – Jonas Kaufmann, Sieglinde – Eva-Marie Westbroek, Hunding – Hans-Peter Konig, Wotan – Bryn Terfel, Brunnhilde – Deborah Voight, Fricka – Stephanie Blythe.
The Yangs couldn’t make this opera because of the birth of their granddaughter (good excuse), and they gave their tickets to CM and his daughter Faith. Because of President Obama’s plans to be in New York City, we were a bit worried about traffic so we left at around 3:45 pm for the 6:30 concert. I really wanted to drive in and park at Lincoln Center because the opera was going to end late at around 11:45 pm. Turned out there wasn’t really that much traffic, so we got to Lincoln Center at about 5 pm, and had enough time for me to buy tickets for a couple of upcoming ABT performances, and a quick dinner at Ollie’s.
In the Playbill there is an insert saying James Levine is ill, and Derrick Inouye will be conducting. I tend to believe these announcements, but recall a conversation with Sharon at another opera where they had a substitute for Gergiev where she insisted they put out these big names to attract patrons while planning to make the substitutes all along. If this happens again I will begin to adopt Sharon’s view.
The same 24x3 plank arrangement was used for the second of the Ring operas. Among the different scenes were: forest, Hunding’s house, rocks, mountain, and horses. Given where we sat (way up in the Family Circle section), the lighting gave a 3-dimensional effect to the flat surfaces. They had this painted-on feel to them; one could tell they were projections because of the shadows cast when people walked in front of them – most of the time they hid it well with spot lights on the people. Anne, who saw this set for the first time, was quite impressed. In fact the arrangements were simpler than those in Das Rheingold, but I am still somewhat impressed with what they managed to do with it. Still not worth the $15M. Even though the scenes still evoked Cirque de Soleil, they were not nearly as overt. No marching people, much less use of wires to suspend actors, and generally not as much rhythmic movement.
This is the third time I saw this particular opera. The first was about three years back, at the Met, with Lorin Maazel conducting, and Deborah Voight singing the role of Sieglinde (she is doing Brunnhilde this season). The second was part of the Seattle Opera Ring Cycle we went to a couple of years ago. I don’t remember it very well, but I think the Maazel performance was the best one. Perhaps other factors contributed to how I feel: it was the first Ring opera we saw, we were seated in a box which had a clear view of the conductor and how he engaged with the artists (even though they were partial view seats), the set was a “realistic” one so I didn’t have to spend mental energy conjuring things up, and I may simply go with the reputation of the conductor (can’t be, can it?).
In general the singers did very well. Teufel had a lot of lines and in general did quite well, although his voice was inexplicably weak in some places. Konig as Hundig sang strongly; Westbroek (Sieglinde) had a sweet voice and rendered an appropriately helpless Sieglinde caught up by fate. Kaufman, Voight, and Blythe all sang beautifully although Kaufman was weak compared to Konig.
The first act began a little slowly. There isn’t a lot of action in this act, so if one is not caught up in the story or the music then one has to struggle to stay away. I indeed found myself drifting off a couple of times. Things improved as the performance went on though, and some of the dialog in Acts 2 and 3 was very engaging.
One scene worth mentioning is the beginning of Act 3. The eight Valkyries were riding horses (inverted Vs formed by planks, naturally), and they slid down to the main stage. At first I couldn’t quite tell what they were doing, but via binoculars found out they were collecting skeletons into sacks; macabre, yet clever. And I also thought they would lead the dead warriors to Valhalla in human form. And the eight ladies could make a lot of noise. Many Wagner scholars (and some nuts) try to distinguish the characteristics of each of the eight Valkyries, I think it is a waste of time. (I may have remarked on this before, but I am inside a plane right now – CO99 Newark to Hong Kong – and don’t have access to my prior posts.)
Even though this is the third time I saw this opera, there were still things I didn’t know until now. Brunnhilde is actually the daughter of Wotan and Erda, and Hundig is the son of Albrecht the Nibelung. Just in this opera Wotan has three wives (third one being the twins’ mother), I wonder if he had others in the other three operas. I also didn’t know Brunnhilde explicitly told Sieglinde she would try to save Siegmund despite Wotan’s explicit instructions to the contrary (that would explain Wotan’s wrath). There is also a major inconsistency: Brunnhilde said another who saw her face would die, but that evidently didn’t apply to Sieglinde. The Program Notes also says this story happens on earth: not quite true as I assume the start of Act 3 took place in Valhalla. Interestingly I don’t remember being puzzled by references to Das Rheingold when I saw Die Walkure for the first time, I now have more questions about the consistency of the story. Also, what happened to Siegmund after he was killed, was he brought to Valhalla?
It also occurred to me one reason I am finding new things about the opera is that there were invariably periods I dozed off during a performance (it is five hours long, after all) so some details would elude me. Of course, being forgetful could also explain some (or most) of it.
One nice surprise was our seats were quite decent, given how inexpensive they were. The acoustics was good – understandable since we could practically touch the ceiling, and with a good pair of binoculars we could see quite a bit of details.
On our way back we got to talk about this a bit. Faith was particularly enthusiastic, wondering how these singers managed to sing for so long. She is taking voice lessons and is considering a major in voice in college. We were surprised how busy traffic was close to midnight, perhaps residual effects from the Presidential visit. We got home before 1 am, driving in and parking at Lincoln Center worked out for us.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Orpheus Chamber Orchestra with Arabella Steinbacher, violin. April 29, 2011.
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, Section Parquet Right (Row Y, Seat 14, $25).
Program
Serenade in E-flat major, Op. 7 (1881) by Richard Strauss (1864-1949).
Concerto funebre (1939, rev. 1959) by Karl Amadeus Hartmann (1905-1963).
Adagio in E major for Violin and Orchestra, K. 261 (1776) by Mozart (1756-91).
Rondo in C major for Violin and Orchestra, K. 373 (1871) by Mozart.
Symphony No. 104 in D major “London” (1795) by Haydn (1732-1809).
I am writing this blog before I start on last night’s New York Philharmonic performance. I didn’t take too much notes for this event, and would want to get my thoughts down while they are still fresh. I will post it after I post the Philharmonic review, so they will appear in proper chronological order.
We started driving a little after 5 pm (in the car with the fixed tire), and soon found out both in-bound tunnels had 30+ minutes – and growing - wait times. So we turned around, parked the car at the train station, and went up by train instead. We got to the Carnegie Hall area early enough that we could get a burrito at Chipotle’s before the concert.
The first piece of the evening was written by Strauss when he was seventeen, and his composition style was still very much influenced by classical composers such as Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven. At least that’s what the program notes would have you think. They could have fooled me. While the sound was quite tonal, in no way did the composition sound like a piece from the Mozart/Beethoven school. Overall it sounded pleasant enough, and is downright amazing considering it was written by a seventeen year old young man (kid, actually). At that age I was trying to recognize what a I-IV-V-I cadence sounded like. Strauss would go on to write music for another 60 years, most of which I yet have to understand (or hear). The piece is orchestrated for woodwinds and four horns, thirteen players total. Yet the small group managed to sound tentative and muddled. The concert wasn’t off to a good start.
Arabella Steinbacher was born and raised in Germany (German father, Japanese mother). She looks younger than her age (30), and plays the “Booth” Stradivarius (1716) on loan from the Nippon Music Foundation. She got her break in 2004 when she was a last-minute substitute for another soloist who had gotten ill. I guess there are several examples of this (the conductors Bernstein and Morlot immediately come to mind), and not surprising given there must be many great musicians who do not get the chance to shine.
The concerto was written by the composer when the Nazis annexed Czechoslovakia; he called it Music for Mourning until it was revised in 1959 and given its current name. The music was smuggled out of Germany and got its premiere in Switzerland in 1940. (I do wonder why word didn’t get back to the Germans.) Per the program notes, it is mostly a dark piece and references old chorales, however, the sound is thoroughly modern. The demands on the violinist are considerable, but only limited range of techniques is called for (e.g., no left-hand pizzicato). Steinbacher played with gusto but a limited dynamic range. And “sad” or “hopeless” isn’t the emotion I would associate with the music. In that context the “hope” of the last two or so minutes didn’t come across in any dramatic way. Steinbacher’s biography says she got great reviews playing Sibelius’s Concerto, which to many describe the composer’s frustration and eventual accommodation with his own shortcomings as a violinist. I wonder how that sounded.
The movements of this concerto are Introduction: Largo – Adagio – Allegro di molto – Choral: Langsamer Marsch.
After the intermission, Steinbacher played two Mozart pieces that are familiar to the violin student. She did them well, but not exceptional. For an encore she played a rather difficult solo piece that clearly demonstrated her technical abilities. (She announced the piece in German, I think; and I failed to catch it.)
The one thing constant in her performance is the great sound she makes with the violin. It is amazing how a 300-year old instrument can take whatever an artist throws at it and still yield a clean and pleasant sound. There were times I worried something would break, though.
Haydn wrote a total of twelve symphonies while he was staying in London (on two separate occasions). Evidently people don’t quite know why No. 104 is called “London”. Compared to other Haydn symphonies I am familiar with (definitely not all of them), this is rather long at an advertised 29 minutes. And it felt that long, given the way the orchestra played it. Not because every now and then someone would come in early or sound too loud (and there were quite a few instances of those), but because “uninspired” is the best way to describe how it was played. When played well (or just reasonably well), Haydn’s symphonies are easy to understand, and a delight to listen to. Neither is the case here. These are not just my expectations, even the program notes uses words and phrases such as “organic connection”, “sweet”, “deceptively simple”, and “whim” to describe the composition. The movements of the symphony are (i) Adagio – Allegro; (ii) Andante; (iii) Menuetto: Allegro; and (iv) Finale: Allegro spiritoso.
This is the third Orpheus performance this season we attended, and I still haven’t gotten used to the orchestra’s sound yet. Even though the orchestra is on the small side, there is still considerable distance (physically and musically) between the last person in the violin section and the double bass section. While there may be few instances they need to adjust to each other during a performance, it illustrates the difficulties these players face if they need to do so. If after 40 years you can’t quite achieve unity in the sound, it may be time to try it with a conductor. But then there will be nothing special about the orchestra.
We left immediately at the conclusion of the Haydn Symphony, but still missed the train by 10 minutes; not so bad compared to times we missed by just a couple. We got home after midnight. The tradeoff is if you drive in, you worry about traffic, and if you take the train in, you worry if you will miss the train for the return trip.
I found a review of the same program played in Troy the day before. There the orchestra also played a couple of encores. In our case, we don't know if any encores were played by the Orchestra.
Program
Serenade in E-flat major, Op. 7 (1881) by Richard Strauss (1864-1949).
Concerto funebre (1939, rev. 1959) by Karl Amadeus Hartmann (1905-1963).
Adagio in E major for Violin and Orchestra, K. 261 (1776) by Mozart (1756-91).
Rondo in C major for Violin and Orchestra, K. 373 (1871) by Mozart.
Symphony No. 104 in D major “London” (1795) by Haydn (1732-1809).
I am writing this blog before I start on last night’s New York Philharmonic performance. I didn’t take too much notes for this event, and would want to get my thoughts down while they are still fresh. I will post it after I post the Philharmonic review, so they will appear in proper chronological order.
We started driving a little after 5 pm (in the car with the fixed tire), and soon found out both in-bound tunnels had 30+ minutes – and growing - wait times. So we turned around, parked the car at the train station, and went up by train instead. We got to the Carnegie Hall area early enough that we could get a burrito at Chipotle’s before the concert.
The first piece of the evening was written by Strauss when he was seventeen, and his composition style was still very much influenced by classical composers such as Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven. At least that’s what the program notes would have you think. They could have fooled me. While the sound was quite tonal, in no way did the composition sound like a piece from the Mozart/Beethoven school. Overall it sounded pleasant enough, and is downright amazing considering it was written by a seventeen year old young man (kid, actually). At that age I was trying to recognize what a I-IV-V-I cadence sounded like. Strauss would go on to write music for another 60 years, most of which I yet have to understand (or hear). The piece is orchestrated for woodwinds and four horns, thirteen players total. Yet the small group managed to sound tentative and muddled. The concert wasn’t off to a good start.
Arabella Steinbacher was born and raised in Germany (German father, Japanese mother). She looks younger than her age (30), and plays the “Booth” Stradivarius (1716) on loan from the Nippon Music Foundation. She got her break in 2004 when she was a last-minute substitute for another soloist who had gotten ill. I guess there are several examples of this (the conductors Bernstein and Morlot immediately come to mind), and not surprising given there must be many great musicians who do not get the chance to shine.
The concerto was written by the composer when the Nazis annexed Czechoslovakia; he called it Music for Mourning until it was revised in 1959 and given its current name. The music was smuggled out of Germany and got its premiere in Switzerland in 1940. (I do wonder why word didn’t get back to the Germans.) Per the program notes, it is mostly a dark piece and references old chorales, however, the sound is thoroughly modern. The demands on the violinist are considerable, but only limited range of techniques is called for (e.g., no left-hand pizzicato). Steinbacher played with gusto but a limited dynamic range. And “sad” or “hopeless” isn’t the emotion I would associate with the music. In that context the “hope” of the last two or so minutes didn’t come across in any dramatic way. Steinbacher’s biography says she got great reviews playing Sibelius’s Concerto, which to many describe the composer’s frustration and eventual accommodation with his own shortcomings as a violinist. I wonder how that sounded.
The movements of this concerto are Introduction: Largo – Adagio – Allegro di molto – Choral: Langsamer Marsch.
After the intermission, Steinbacher played two Mozart pieces that are familiar to the violin student. She did them well, but not exceptional. For an encore she played a rather difficult solo piece that clearly demonstrated her technical abilities. (She announced the piece in German, I think; and I failed to catch it.)
The one thing constant in her performance is the great sound she makes with the violin. It is amazing how a 300-year old instrument can take whatever an artist throws at it and still yield a clean and pleasant sound. There were times I worried something would break, though.
Haydn wrote a total of twelve symphonies while he was staying in London (on two separate occasions). Evidently people don’t quite know why No. 104 is called “London”. Compared to other Haydn symphonies I am familiar with (definitely not all of them), this is rather long at an advertised 29 minutes. And it felt that long, given the way the orchestra played it. Not because every now and then someone would come in early or sound too loud (and there were quite a few instances of those), but because “uninspired” is the best way to describe how it was played. When played well (or just reasonably well), Haydn’s symphonies are easy to understand, and a delight to listen to. Neither is the case here. These are not just my expectations, even the program notes uses words and phrases such as “organic connection”, “sweet”, “deceptively simple”, and “whim” to describe the composition. The movements of the symphony are (i) Adagio – Allegro; (ii) Andante; (iii) Menuetto: Allegro; and (iv) Finale: Allegro spiritoso.
This is the third Orpheus performance this season we attended, and I still haven’t gotten used to the orchestra’s sound yet. Even though the orchestra is on the small side, there is still considerable distance (physically and musically) between the last person in the violin section and the double bass section. While there may be few instances they need to adjust to each other during a performance, it illustrates the difficulties these players face if they need to do so. If after 40 years you can’t quite achieve unity in the sound, it may be time to try it with a conductor. But then there will be nothing special about the orchestra.
We left immediately at the conclusion of the Haydn Symphony, but still missed the train by 10 minutes; not so bad compared to times we missed by just a couple. We got home after midnight. The tradeoff is if you drive in, you worry about traffic, and if you take the train in, you worry if you will miss the train for the return trip.
I found a review of the same program played in Troy the day before. There the orchestra also played a couple of encores. In our case, we don't know if any encores were played by the Orchestra.
New York Philharmonic – Alan Gilbert, conductor; Emanuel Ax, piano. April 30, 2011.
Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center, Orchestra 1 (Seat W116, $65).
Program
Pagodes from Estampes (Prints), for solo piano (1903) by Debussy (1862-1918).
Coleurs de la Cite Celeste (Colors of the Celestial City) (1963) by Messiaen (1808-92).
Symphony No. 5 (1901-02) by Mahler (1860-1911).
The original program listed all three pieces in the Estampes work, but the insert in the Playbill says only Pagodes will be played, then followed by Coleurs. Our puzzlement was answered later during the concert.
Alan Gilbert first talked about the program, describing how Coleurs is like a slide show, with its abruptly changing scenes. He also said Messiaen was basically a tonal composer, in his own sort of way, and that he liked to put in bird songs in his works. He demonstrated some of the ideas with a couple of passages played by the orchestra. When asked to add something, Emanuel Ax says Pagodes also painted a picture, in this instance of a Chinese city (Anne thought it should be Japanese, given what the program notes says), and one could clearly see things such as tiled roof tops. Well, I suspect for me they have to put the print right in front of me, since I don’t possess the same imagination as these artists evidently do. I am also reminded of what was relayed to me of a particular person with perfect pitch: he sees different colors with different notes. Since I don’t have perfect pitch (although I can get very close to a 440-A on my violin), that sort of discussion is mostly academic for me.
The Debussy piece was quite short at 4 minutes, and a couple of themes were used multiple times. And if you imagine really hard, you can see a city landscape, or convince yourself you do. The oriental pentatonic scale was used. Given how rich some passages sounded, I wonder if Debussy slipped in some other notes from the “western” scale; but I didn’t catch any.
One could make a case that the Messiaen piece isn’t really a piano solo with an ensemble (no strings). The xylophone certainly had a role that was at least as prominent as the piano, although the latter does have several “solo” passages. The transitions are indeed abrupt at times as the music goes from one “frame” to another, however, I didn’t get any colors (or gemstones, for that matter) from it. Also, Messiaen the devout Catholic included many religious overtones in the composition: those also escaped me.
One possible reason for shortening the program for a few minutes was that this was Emanuel Ax’s 100th performance with the Philharmonic, starting from about 35 years ago. The math is right as each program gets repeated 3 or so times during a Philharmonic “run”. To mark the occasion, Ax was awarded the “New York Philharmonic Society Award” which has been given out about 65 times during the orchestra’s 170 years, and there are only 5 living recipients before tonight. The audience applauded enthusiastically. I certainly have enjoyed quite a few of Ax’s performances with this Orchestra.
I was looking forward to the Mahler symphony, probably my favorite among Mahler’s ten symphonies. The last time the New York Philharmonic played this work was in January 2009, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel. I attended one of those concerts. I was eager to do some comparisons, even though my memories of the event have faded after a couple years. I did post my thoughts on that performance, though. They were quite brief, but included the phrase “came away very impressed.”
The Symphony also started with the horns coming in quite loud. However, Gilbert seemed to take the first movement’s marking (Funeral March: With measure step. Strict. Like a cortege) a bit too seriously, the tempo was quite strict, and somehow in turn made the music sounded sweeter than I would like. The second movement (Stormily. With greatest vehemence) was done energetically enough. The third movement (Scherzo: Vigorously, not too fast) is the longest, which one usually doesn’t associate with a Scherzo movement. There is quite a bit of slapstick playing, and to my amazement I noticed that the pitch of the slapstick can change (or is it my imagination?). However, sometimes in the flourish of music not everyone was in sync. The fourth movement (Adagietto: Very slow) is well-known. The orchestra slurred the notes a bit too much and sounded too complex for my taste (I like lines clean, and sounds distinct). The last movement (Rondo-Finale: Allegro giocoso. Lively) started well and was quite enjoyable. The whole symphony seemed a little rushed, although it took 70 minutes.
Being a regular Philharmonic subscriber, I would like to think Gilbert’s rendition of the symphony was at least as good as Dudamels, but – alas – I could not say so. I often compare Mahler’s music with changing landscape where you see new things after wandering for a while and turn a corner. What distinguishes a great conductor is the ability to integrate the wanderings into the overall picture. Many passages were done very well tonight, but Gilbert failed to stitch everything together into one coherent piece of work, there being many instances of not knowing where the music would lead.
The audience gave a very enthusiastic applause, though. I guess being able to get through Mahler is no small feat, but I thought the New York crowd was very sophisticated and demanding.
The New York Times review is very positive, calling the Mahler performance “strongly conceived, vigorous.” The reviewer also attributed the shortening of the Ax program to Ax’s conviction that it would sound closer knit together.
When we picked up our car at the garage, the attendant pointed out to us we had a flat tire. This after only 3000 miles on the car, quite frustrating. With the help of Anne (who read the instruction manual) I managed to change the tire in 15 minutes, dropping a lot of sweat in the process. We had to limp home at about 50 mph since this is one of those mini-spares.
Program
Pagodes from Estampes (Prints), for solo piano (1903) by Debussy (1862-1918).
Coleurs de la Cite Celeste (Colors of the Celestial City) (1963) by Messiaen (1808-92).
Symphony No. 5 (1901-02) by Mahler (1860-1911).
The original program listed all three pieces in the Estampes work, but the insert in the Playbill says only Pagodes will be played, then followed by Coleurs. Our puzzlement was answered later during the concert.
Alan Gilbert first talked about the program, describing how Coleurs is like a slide show, with its abruptly changing scenes. He also said Messiaen was basically a tonal composer, in his own sort of way, and that he liked to put in bird songs in his works. He demonstrated some of the ideas with a couple of passages played by the orchestra. When asked to add something, Emanuel Ax says Pagodes also painted a picture, in this instance of a Chinese city (Anne thought it should be Japanese, given what the program notes says), and one could clearly see things such as tiled roof tops. Well, I suspect for me they have to put the print right in front of me, since I don’t possess the same imagination as these artists evidently do. I am also reminded of what was relayed to me of a particular person with perfect pitch: he sees different colors with different notes. Since I don’t have perfect pitch (although I can get very close to a 440-A on my violin), that sort of discussion is mostly academic for me.
The Debussy piece was quite short at 4 minutes, and a couple of themes were used multiple times. And if you imagine really hard, you can see a city landscape, or convince yourself you do. The oriental pentatonic scale was used. Given how rich some passages sounded, I wonder if Debussy slipped in some other notes from the “western” scale; but I didn’t catch any.
One could make a case that the Messiaen piece isn’t really a piano solo with an ensemble (no strings). The xylophone certainly had a role that was at least as prominent as the piano, although the latter does have several “solo” passages. The transitions are indeed abrupt at times as the music goes from one “frame” to another, however, I didn’t get any colors (or gemstones, for that matter) from it. Also, Messiaen the devout Catholic included many religious overtones in the composition: those also escaped me.
One possible reason for shortening the program for a few minutes was that this was Emanuel Ax’s 100th performance with the Philharmonic, starting from about 35 years ago. The math is right as each program gets repeated 3 or so times during a Philharmonic “run”. To mark the occasion, Ax was awarded the “New York Philharmonic Society Award” which has been given out about 65 times during the orchestra’s 170 years, and there are only 5 living recipients before tonight. The audience applauded enthusiastically. I certainly have enjoyed quite a few of Ax’s performances with this Orchestra.
I was looking forward to the Mahler symphony, probably my favorite among Mahler’s ten symphonies. The last time the New York Philharmonic played this work was in January 2009, conducted by Gustavo Dudamel. I attended one of those concerts. I was eager to do some comparisons, even though my memories of the event have faded after a couple years. I did post my thoughts on that performance, though. They were quite brief, but included the phrase “came away very impressed.”
The Symphony also started with the horns coming in quite loud. However, Gilbert seemed to take the first movement’s marking (Funeral March: With measure step. Strict. Like a cortege) a bit too seriously, the tempo was quite strict, and somehow in turn made the music sounded sweeter than I would like. The second movement (Stormily. With greatest vehemence) was done energetically enough. The third movement (Scherzo: Vigorously, not too fast) is the longest, which one usually doesn’t associate with a Scherzo movement. There is quite a bit of slapstick playing, and to my amazement I noticed that the pitch of the slapstick can change (or is it my imagination?). However, sometimes in the flourish of music not everyone was in sync. The fourth movement (Adagietto: Very slow) is well-known. The orchestra slurred the notes a bit too much and sounded too complex for my taste (I like lines clean, and sounds distinct). The last movement (Rondo-Finale: Allegro giocoso. Lively) started well and was quite enjoyable. The whole symphony seemed a little rushed, although it took 70 minutes.
Being a regular Philharmonic subscriber, I would like to think Gilbert’s rendition of the symphony was at least as good as Dudamels, but – alas – I could not say so. I often compare Mahler’s music with changing landscape where you see new things after wandering for a while and turn a corner. What distinguishes a great conductor is the ability to integrate the wanderings into the overall picture. Many passages were done very well tonight, but Gilbert failed to stitch everything together into one coherent piece of work, there being many instances of not knowing where the music would lead.
The audience gave a very enthusiastic applause, though. I guess being able to get through Mahler is no small feat, but I thought the New York crowd was very sophisticated and demanding.
The New York Times review is very positive, calling the Mahler performance “strongly conceived, vigorous.” The reviewer also attributed the shortening of the Ax program to Ax’s conviction that it would sound closer knit together.
When we picked up our car at the garage, the attendant pointed out to us we had a flat tire. This after only 3000 miles on the car, quite frustrating. With the help of Anne (who read the instruction manual) I managed to change the tire in 15 minutes, dropping a lot of sweat in the process. We had to limp home at about 50 mph since this is one of those mini-spares.
Friday, April 15, 2011
St. Petersburg Philharmonic Orchestra – Yuri Temirkanov, Conductor; Alisa Weilerstein, Cello. April 14, 2011.
Issac Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, Center Balcony (CB Center Left, Seat O21, $46.)
Program
Prelude to Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh, Op. 4 (1903-1904) by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908).
Cello Concerto No. 1 in E-flat Major, Op. 107 (1959) by Dmitri Shostakovich (1806-1975).
Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 98 (1884-1885) by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897).
We again went to this concert with the Yangs. Even though traffic reports seemed to indicate congestions everywhere, we managed to get to Carnegie Hall in good time, the last few blocks did give us some problems. We had a quick bite at a new restaurant on 8th Ave (don’t remember its name, and Google map doesn’t show it), reasonable food, reasonable prices.
There were scattered empty seats in the auditorium, and in our section there were a lot of students. These balcony seats in Carnegie Hall are worse than economy seats on an airline. At my modest height I feel my knees already touch the head of the person in front of me. The gentlemen next to us must be six foot tall, and there simply was no way for him to be comfortable. Good thing we had empty seats to move to this evening.
It is a large orchestra, for the Brahms symphony there were 16 first violins, 26 second violins and violas (couldn’t tell them apart given where I was), 10 cellos, and 8 basses. The program called for only one percussion (a triangle) and a set of timpani (which never sounded exactly in tune). Also, the number of woodwind and brass instruments is quite small.
The Prelude is a short piece at less than five minutes. It actually used the largest number of musicians, including two harps. This is the first time I saw a man playing a harp, so I guess Vienna Philharmonic will be contacting him soon. I enjoyed this piece, the sounds were pleasant, and – despite the large orchestra – soft and sweet. I didn’t know Rimsky-Korsakov wrote operas, and he actually wrote 15 of them. Anne, however, thought the orchestra was not together, and that turned out to be much of her refrain for the evening. The conductor didn’t use a baton, I wonder if that contributed to the occasional imprecision.
I generally enjoy Shostakovich’s music, although usually not at the first listen. The cello concerto, however, is easy to listen to, and easy to like. The Program Notes says Shostakovich was inspired by Prokofiev who wrote one a few years earlier dedicated to Mstislav Rostropovich. I am not sure “inspired” is exactly the right word, I am thinking along the lines of "competitiveness".
The concerto begins with a four-note motif that isn’t quite tonal (yet singable), and the motif gets worked into the piece multiple times. The first movement (Allegretto) was very enjoyable, with a solo horn often in dialog with the cellist. There is also a celesta that adds quite a bit of color to the music. There was some scattered applause after the first movement. The second movement (Moderato) was played a bit too softly by the soloist for the nose-bleed and cramped-leg set; this is particularly true with the second half which contained a lot of harmonics. Interestingly, the Cadenza is considered a separate movement. Not being a cellist, I can’t tell if it required a high degree of virtuosity, but it didn’t come across as a technically challenging movement. The fourth movement (Allegro con moto) sounded okay, and as advertised did come to a close with a strike of the timpani. I wonder my perception of a great first movement and just-okay later ones is due to the fact that one could digest only so much new Shostakovich in one sitting, or the quality of the performance dropped after the first movement.
In any case, Alisa Weilerstein is an engaging young (born 1982) soloist, and I suspect we will hear from her quite a bit.
We heard Brahm’s fourth symphony in October, 2010 at the New York Philharmonic, with Alan Gilbert conducting. I didn’t realize that until I got home and looked at my earlier blog posts. And I still find the fourth movement unfamiliar.
Anne is correct in saying the orchestra is not together. The concertmaster, among others, on several occasions either jumped in too early, or was over enthusiastic in terms of volume. And sometimes you wonder if the music was written so one section was to follow another with a split-second lag. All these add up to a muddled effect every now and then. But the sound in general was just very pleasant, and it was obvious from the first descending third of the first movement (Allegro non troppo). I complained about the Carnegie acoustics before, so it had to be the orchestra.
There are other things one could nit-pick about the performance. The second movement (Andante moderato) was played through with a nice sound but not much emotion. It is a pity that the melancholy one usually associates with the movement was not to be found. The third movement (Allegro giocoso) was lively and enjoyable. It was at my last concert that I realized that Brahms loved variations; on that occasion it was Variations on a Theme of Schumann written in 1854, tonight it was the fourth movement written a good 30 years later. The Program Notes here says there are 30 variations, and Alan Gilbert said there were 32 in the October 2010 concert. I am glad even professionals don’t agree. For me, it just sounded like a “regular” fourth movement (Allegro energico e passionato).
A few other thoughts. Since the four-note motif in Shostokovich was used multiple times in the concerto, you could hear people humming it during intermission. I was sure I would remember it, but to my dismay had forgotten it by the time we finished the concert. A tribute to the composer who can do so much with so little. Similarly, the first movement of Brahms builds on simple descending thirds and rising sixths to get to a rich symphonic texture. Both Rimsky-Korsakov and Shostokovich managed very complex sounds with minimal use of percussion instruments . Contrast that with some modern composers who despite the use of everything under the sun still manage to write music that is more interesting to look at than to listen to.
In any case, even though there were quite a few things one could quibble with, the overall concert was very enjoyable.
[A later note.] We left right after the concert so wouldn't have to wait for the attendant to bring up our car. Thus we missed the encore. I also found the New York Times review, which calls the orchestra sound "Russian." I am not objecting to that characterization, but recall a Beijing concert I attended in the mid 90s sung by a Russian Army Chorus. I told people it sounded like the ending scene of "Hunt for Red October," and certainly was very different from what I heard today.
Program
Prelude to Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh, Op. 4 (1903-1904) by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov (1844-1908).
Cello Concerto No. 1 in E-flat Major, Op. 107 (1959) by Dmitri Shostakovich (1806-1975).
Symphony No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 98 (1884-1885) by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897).
We again went to this concert with the Yangs. Even though traffic reports seemed to indicate congestions everywhere, we managed to get to Carnegie Hall in good time, the last few blocks did give us some problems. We had a quick bite at a new restaurant on 8th Ave (don’t remember its name, and Google map doesn’t show it), reasonable food, reasonable prices.
There were scattered empty seats in the auditorium, and in our section there were a lot of students. These balcony seats in Carnegie Hall are worse than economy seats on an airline. At my modest height I feel my knees already touch the head of the person in front of me. The gentlemen next to us must be six foot tall, and there simply was no way for him to be comfortable. Good thing we had empty seats to move to this evening.
It is a large orchestra, for the Brahms symphony there were 16 first violins, 26 second violins and violas (couldn’t tell them apart given where I was), 10 cellos, and 8 basses. The program called for only one percussion (a triangle) and a set of timpani (which never sounded exactly in tune). Also, the number of woodwind and brass instruments is quite small.
The Prelude is a short piece at less than five minutes. It actually used the largest number of musicians, including two harps. This is the first time I saw a man playing a harp, so I guess Vienna Philharmonic will be contacting him soon. I enjoyed this piece, the sounds were pleasant, and – despite the large orchestra – soft and sweet. I didn’t know Rimsky-Korsakov wrote operas, and he actually wrote 15 of them. Anne, however, thought the orchestra was not together, and that turned out to be much of her refrain for the evening. The conductor didn’t use a baton, I wonder if that contributed to the occasional imprecision.
I generally enjoy Shostakovich’s music, although usually not at the first listen. The cello concerto, however, is easy to listen to, and easy to like. The Program Notes says Shostakovich was inspired by Prokofiev who wrote one a few years earlier dedicated to Mstislav Rostropovich. I am not sure “inspired” is exactly the right word, I am thinking along the lines of "competitiveness".
The concerto begins with a four-note motif that isn’t quite tonal (yet singable), and the motif gets worked into the piece multiple times. The first movement (Allegretto) was very enjoyable, with a solo horn often in dialog with the cellist. There is also a celesta that adds quite a bit of color to the music. There was some scattered applause after the first movement. The second movement (Moderato) was played a bit too softly by the soloist for the nose-bleed and cramped-leg set; this is particularly true with the second half which contained a lot of harmonics. Interestingly, the Cadenza is considered a separate movement. Not being a cellist, I can’t tell if it required a high degree of virtuosity, but it didn’t come across as a technically challenging movement. The fourth movement (Allegro con moto) sounded okay, and as advertised did come to a close with a strike of the timpani. I wonder my perception of a great first movement and just-okay later ones is due to the fact that one could digest only so much new Shostakovich in one sitting, or the quality of the performance dropped after the first movement.
In any case, Alisa Weilerstein is an engaging young (born 1982) soloist, and I suspect we will hear from her quite a bit.
We heard Brahm’s fourth symphony in October, 2010 at the New York Philharmonic, with Alan Gilbert conducting. I didn’t realize that until I got home and looked at my earlier blog posts. And I still find the fourth movement unfamiliar.
Anne is correct in saying the orchestra is not together. The concertmaster, among others, on several occasions either jumped in too early, or was over enthusiastic in terms of volume. And sometimes you wonder if the music was written so one section was to follow another with a split-second lag. All these add up to a muddled effect every now and then. But the sound in general was just very pleasant, and it was obvious from the first descending third of the first movement (Allegro non troppo). I complained about the Carnegie acoustics before, so it had to be the orchestra.
There are other things one could nit-pick about the performance. The second movement (Andante moderato) was played through with a nice sound but not much emotion. It is a pity that the melancholy one usually associates with the movement was not to be found. The third movement (Allegro giocoso) was lively and enjoyable. It was at my last concert that I realized that Brahms loved variations; on that occasion it was Variations on a Theme of Schumann written in 1854, tonight it was the fourth movement written a good 30 years later. The Program Notes here says there are 30 variations, and Alan Gilbert said there were 32 in the October 2010 concert. I am glad even professionals don’t agree. For me, it just sounded like a “regular” fourth movement (Allegro energico e passionato).
A few other thoughts. Since the four-note motif in Shostokovich was used multiple times in the concerto, you could hear people humming it during intermission. I was sure I would remember it, but to my dismay had forgotten it by the time we finished the concert. A tribute to the composer who can do so much with so little. Similarly, the first movement of Brahms builds on simple descending thirds and rising sixths to get to a rich symphonic texture. Both Rimsky-Korsakov and Shostokovich managed very complex sounds with minimal use of percussion instruments . Contrast that with some modern composers who despite the use of everything under the sun still manage to write music that is more interesting to look at than to listen to.
In any case, even though there were quite a few things one could quibble with, the overall concert was very enjoyable.
[A later note.] We left right after the concert so wouldn't have to wait for the attendant to bring up our car. Thus we missed the encore. I also found the New York Times review, which calls the orchestra sound "Russian." I am not objecting to that characterization, but recall a Beijing concert I attended in the mid 90s sung by a Russian Army Chorus. I told people it sounded like the ending scene of "Hunt for Red October," and certainly was very different from what I heard today.
Saturday, April 09, 2011
The Kalichstein-Laredo-Robinson Trio. April 7, 2011.
92nd Street Y, Theresa L. Laufmann Concert Hall, Orchestra (Seat H103, $5.)
Artists
Trio: Joseph Kalichstein, piano; Jaime Laredo, violin; Sharon Robinson, cello.
Pamela Frank, violin
Cynthia Phelps, viola
Liang Wang, oboe
Program
Three Romances for Violin and Piano, Op. 22 (1853) by Clara Schumann (1819-1896).
-- Andante molto
-- Allegretto: Mit zarten Vortrage
-- Leidenschaftlich schnell
Variations for Piano on a Theme of R. Schumann, Op. 9 (1854) by Brahms (1833-1897).
Romances for Oboe and Piano, Op. 94 (1849) by Robert Schumann (1810-1856).
-- Nicht schnell
-- Einfach, inning
-- Nicht schell
Quintet for Piano and Strings in E-flat major, Op. 44 (1842) by R. Schumann.
There is no misprint on the cost of this concert, $5. I first found out about this group when I was reading through the program at Toronto’s Royal Conservatory, this group is scheduled to perform there later this month. Within a day or so I got this email from Goldstar which offered tickets for a processing fee of $5, so I grabbed it. Since I was planning to buy tickets for the June 2 Leon Fleisher concert at the Y anyway, I thought I would go also. Because of her commitment to teach an ESL class at the Sayreville Library, Anne couldn’t go.
The auditorium is reasonably respectable, with a sign saying “occupancy by more than 922 people is dangerous” giving an indication of its capacity (there is also a balcony level). I was also surprised at how few people were at this concert. I would say the orchestra level was less than half full, but they managed to get a lot of students to come and they were lining up for the balcony seats.
The size of the audience, however, has no bearing on the quality of the concert. This is one of the more enjoyable concerts I have attended, and got better as the afternoon progressed.
The program is pretty much an all Schumann affair, with works by Robert and Clara Schumann. The Brahms piece was written after Robert’s early 1854 suicide attempt, and incorporates one of Clara Schuman’s theme in one of the variations. The program says Brahms wrote it as a tribute to his mentor, a token of Brahms’ affection for Clara, and the work was an early manifestation of Brahms’ fondness of the variation.
I had never heard anything by Clara Schumann before. The three violin romances did not break any new musical grounds for me (nor for the genre, I imagine), but they are really pleasant pieces. The program notes calls them “charming, if lightweight.” Indeed the pieces, totaling a little over 10 minutes, sounded warm, but tinged with sadness.
It is probably difficult not to try to count the number of variations when it is being performed. And it is not easy. In any case, I counted 20, but it could be fewer than that. According to the Program Notes, there are several quotes from Robert and Clara’s works. While there is familiarity, I can’t claim I caught them.
Liang Wang is the principal oboist at the New York Philharmonic. Here he performed three relatively simple romances by Schumann. The sound was beautiful, and the romances contain a trove of melodies, many of which sounded melancholic. The audience was very appreciative of the performance.
Cynthia Phelps is the principal violist of the New York Philharmonic, and Pamela Frank is a very well-known violinist (whom I had never seen in concert). I was especially surprised to see Frank playing second fiddle in the quintet. I have stated many times most string quartets sound like a violin piece with accompaniment by three other string instruments. Our ears find it easier to catch the higher pitch of the first violin; and indeed many compositions put the melody in that instrument. Not so with this one. The parts (including the piano) are well-balanced, with different instruments taking the lead at different times. Frank actually seemed to enjoy the role very much, beaming all the time, and looking at her fellow players a lot. Having said that, the viola still sounded weak. The cello also could sound a little louder.
I enjoy Schubert’s Trout Quintet a lot (turns out Frank is also the violinist in the CD I have) – who wouldn’t – and I have to rank this one up there. I am embarrassed to say this is the first time I ever heard it. For the record, the movements are: (i) Allegro brillante; (ii) In modo d’una marcia: Un poco largamente – Agitato; (iii) Scherzo: Molto vivace; and (iv) Allegro ma non troppo.
Sometimes enjoyable things in life is free, or almost free. I am glad I came to this concert, and would have gladly paid full price for the seat.
Artists
Trio: Joseph Kalichstein, piano; Jaime Laredo, violin; Sharon Robinson, cello.
Pamela Frank, violin
Cynthia Phelps, viola
Liang Wang, oboe
Program
Three Romances for Violin and Piano, Op. 22 (1853) by Clara Schumann (1819-1896).
-- Andante molto
-- Allegretto: Mit zarten Vortrage
-- Leidenschaftlich schnell
Variations for Piano on a Theme of R. Schumann, Op. 9 (1854) by Brahms (1833-1897).
Romances for Oboe and Piano, Op. 94 (1849) by Robert Schumann (1810-1856).
-- Nicht schnell
-- Einfach, inning
-- Nicht schell
Quintet for Piano and Strings in E-flat major, Op. 44 (1842) by R. Schumann.
There is no misprint on the cost of this concert, $5. I first found out about this group when I was reading through the program at Toronto’s Royal Conservatory, this group is scheduled to perform there later this month. Within a day or so I got this email from Goldstar which offered tickets for a processing fee of $5, so I grabbed it. Since I was planning to buy tickets for the June 2 Leon Fleisher concert at the Y anyway, I thought I would go also. Because of her commitment to teach an ESL class at the Sayreville Library, Anne couldn’t go.
The auditorium is reasonably respectable, with a sign saying “occupancy by more than 922 people is dangerous” giving an indication of its capacity (there is also a balcony level). I was also surprised at how few people were at this concert. I would say the orchestra level was less than half full, but they managed to get a lot of students to come and they were lining up for the balcony seats.
The size of the audience, however, has no bearing on the quality of the concert. This is one of the more enjoyable concerts I have attended, and got better as the afternoon progressed.
The program is pretty much an all Schumann affair, with works by Robert and Clara Schumann. The Brahms piece was written after Robert’s early 1854 suicide attempt, and incorporates one of Clara Schuman’s theme in one of the variations. The program says Brahms wrote it as a tribute to his mentor, a token of Brahms’ affection for Clara, and the work was an early manifestation of Brahms’ fondness of the variation.
I had never heard anything by Clara Schumann before. The three violin romances did not break any new musical grounds for me (nor for the genre, I imagine), but they are really pleasant pieces. The program notes calls them “charming, if lightweight.” Indeed the pieces, totaling a little over 10 minutes, sounded warm, but tinged with sadness.
It is probably difficult not to try to count the number of variations when it is being performed. And it is not easy. In any case, I counted 20, but it could be fewer than that. According to the Program Notes, there are several quotes from Robert and Clara’s works. While there is familiarity, I can’t claim I caught them.
Liang Wang is the principal oboist at the New York Philharmonic. Here he performed three relatively simple romances by Schumann. The sound was beautiful, and the romances contain a trove of melodies, many of which sounded melancholic. The audience was very appreciative of the performance.
Cynthia Phelps is the principal violist of the New York Philharmonic, and Pamela Frank is a very well-known violinist (whom I had never seen in concert). I was especially surprised to see Frank playing second fiddle in the quintet. I have stated many times most string quartets sound like a violin piece with accompaniment by three other string instruments. Our ears find it easier to catch the higher pitch of the first violin; and indeed many compositions put the melody in that instrument. Not so with this one. The parts (including the piano) are well-balanced, with different instruments taking the lead at different times. Frank actually seemed to enjoy the role very much, beaming all the time, and looking at her fellow players a lot. Having said that, the viola still sounded weak. The cello also could sound a little louder.
I enjoy Schubert’s Trout Quintet a lot (turns out Frank is also the violinist in the CD I have) – who wouldn’t – and I have to rank this one up there. I am embarrassed to say this is the first time I ever heard it. For the record, the movements are: (i) Allegro brillante; (ii) In modo d’una marcia: Un poco largamente – Agitato; (iii) Scherzo: Molto vivace; and (iv) Allegro ma non troppo.
Sometimes enjoyable things in life is free, or almost free. I am glad I came to this concert, and would have gladly paid full price for the seat.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Leon Fleisher, piano. April 3, 2011.
Koerner Hall at the Royal Conservatory of Music, Ontario, Canada, Second Balcony Right (Seat A10, C$10.)
Program
Toccata and Fugue for Piano Left Hand, Op. 56 (1950) by Jeno Takacs (1902-2005).
Liebeslieder Waltzes, Op. 52a (arr. Brahms) by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897).
Chaconne for the Left Hand from the Violin Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004 (arr. Brahms) by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750).
Fanatasie in F minor, D. 940 (Op. posth. 103) by Franz Schubert (1797-1828).
Slavonic Dances by Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904).
- A-flat Major, Op. 46, No.3
- E minor, Op. 72, No. 2
- G minor, Op. 46, No. 8
We got into Toronto the day before and – as usual – only had a vague idea what we wanted to do. We stopped by the RCM at around 1:30 pm and decided to get tickets for the 3 pm concert. The box office had a sign outside saying rush tickets for $10, and we were told they would be on sale “in a couple of minutes.” Although we would have gladly paid $35 or so for a ticket, who would argue with a $10 deal? Sure enough, that is what we got, and the seats (on the side but facing forward) are okay.
It is only after I read up on the Program Notes that I found out we were going to have a new program (the one listed above.) Katherine Jacobson Fleisher, Leon’s wife, was to join him in the Brahms Waltzes and the Schubert and Dvorak pieces.
Leon first came out and explained he had surgery on his right thumb a few months ago, and while the surgery was a success, the healing process was taking longer than anticipated and thus not quite “performance-ready.” I found out later that actually his life as a performer has been a bitter-sweet one. He played with the New York Philharmonic at age 16 and was called “the pianistic find of the century” by the conductor. However, he developed a neurological disorder that lost him the use of his right hand when he was in his 30s. Only recently did a series of treatments (including Botox) made him well enough to play with both hands. I cannot imagine the devastation something like this would cause, but he certainly seems to have triumphed over it. One just wishes he has enough time to leave behind enough of a legacy for the public to enjoy.
I don’t know enough about piano playing to say much about how good the concert was. It was noteworthy though that Leon managed to produced a lot of great sound without having to attack the piano much, while Katherine (who appears much younger) needed to pound on it a lot. Both sounded great, though Anne said Katherine’s playing was too percussive. I also noticed there was not much use – if at all – of the pedal which added to the crispness of the sound. The Slavonic Dances are quite familiar, and were quite enjoyable. It should be noted that Leon played the right side of the Dances. I am not sure how well the Bach Chaconne worked; it didn't sound as good or natural compared to being played on a violin.
One note on the acoustics. In one word, excellent. There is a lot of wood in the auditorium, and what looked like felt/soundsoak from a distance is actually concrete. Of course, the hall being a bit on the small side helps.
He will be playing at the 92nd Street Y in June. I am going there on Thursday April 7 and will try to get tickets to that event. I would gladly pay the $40 or $57 (not sure which) for each ticket. That program is very close to the “might have been” for this concert. Let’s hope his thumb recovers enough for that to happen.
Program
Toccata and Fugue for Piano Left Hand, Op. 56 (1950) by Jeno Takacs (1902-2005).
Liebeslieder Waltzes, Op. 52a (arr. Brahms) by Johannes Brahms (1833-1897).
Chaconne for the Left Hand from the Violin Partita No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1004 (arr. Brahms) by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750).
Fanatasie in F minor, D. 940 (Op. posth. 103) by Franz Schubert (1797-1828).
Slavonic Dances by Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904).
- A-flat Major, Op. 46, No.3
- E minor, Op. 72, No. 2
- G minor, Op. 46, No. 8
We got into Toronto the day before and – as usual – only had a vague idea what we wanted to do. We stopped by the RCM at around 1:30 pm and decided to get tickets for the 3 pm concert. The box office had a sign outside saying rush tickets for $10, and we were told they would be on sale “in a couple of minutes.” Although we would have gladly paid $35 or so for a ticket, who would argue with a $10 deal? Sure enough, that is what we got, and the seats (on the side but facing forward) are okay.
It is only after I read up on the Program Notes that I found out we were going to have a new program (the one listed above.) Katherine Jacobson Fleisher, Leon’s wife, was to join him in the Brahms Waltzes and the Schubert and Dvorak pieces.
Leon first came out and explained he had surgery on his right thumb a few months ago, and while the surgery was a success, the healing process was taking longer than anticipated and thus not quite “performance-ready.” I found out later that actually his life as a performer has been a bitter-sweet one. He played with the New York Philharmonic at age 16 and was called “the pianistic find of the century” by the conductor. However, he developed a neurological disorder that lost him the use of his right hand when he was in his 30s. Only recently did a series of treatments (including Botox) made him well enough to play with both hands. I cannot imagine the devastation something like this would cause, but he certainly seems to have triumphed over it. One just wishes he has enough time to leave behind enough of a legacy for the public to enjoy.
I don’t know enough about piano playing to say much about how good the concert was. It was noteworthy though that Leon managed to produced a lot of great sound without having to attack the piano much, while Katherine (who appears much younger) needed to pound on it a lot. Both sounded great, though Anne said Katherine’s playing was too percussive. I also noticed there was not much use – if at all – of the pedal which added to the crispness of the sound. The Slavonic Dances are quite familiar, and were quite enjoyable. It should be noted that Leon played the right side of the Dances. I am not sure how well the Bach Chaconne worked; it didn't sound as good or natural compared to being played on a violin.
One note on the acoustics. In one word, excellent. There is a lot of wood in the auditorium, and what looked like felt/soundsoak from a distance is actually concrete. Of course, the hall being a bit on the small side helps.
He will be playing at the 92nd Street Y in June. I am going there on Thursday April 7 and will try to get tickets to that event. I would gladly pay the $40 or $57 (not sure which) for each ticket. That program is very close to the “might have been” for this concert. Let’s hope his thumb recovers enough for that to happen.
Monday, April 04, 2011
National Symphony Orchestra – Ivan Fischer, conductor; Jozsef Lendvay, Jr, violin. April 1, 2011.
Concert Hall at The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Tier 1 (Seat C7, $65.)
Program
Overture to La gazza ladra (1817) by Rossini (1792-1868).
Violin Concerto No. 1 in D major, Op. 6 (1817-1818) by Paganini (1782-1840).
Symphony No. 3 (“Rhenish”) in E-flat major, Op. 97(1850) by Robert Schumann (1810-1956).
When David asked me if I wanted to attend this concert, I said yes, enthusiastically. I always find it interesting to attend concerts in other cities to see how these events compare with what we get in the New York area. This time the group consisted of nine people, David’s group of 4, and Johnny’s group of 4.
We had dinner at Thai Place. We picked it for convenience and proximity to the GWU metro station where we could pick up the Kennedy Center shuttle. The food turned out to be good, and reasonably inexpensive.
I played in this concert hall about 35 years ago (it was very new then) and hadn’t been back since. I did go to the Opera House on a couple of occasions. It looks a bit worn at the edges (especially the carpet) but is generally in great shape. Our seats had a great view of the stage.
I had never heard of the opera La gazza ladra (The Thieving Magpie) but certainly knew part of the tune. It is a short and delightful piece, and the orchestra gave it a spirited rendition.
I had never heard of Lendvay before, and neither had David. He ran onto the stage, and with his long hair could be confused with Paganin (perhaps that’s the idea). Paganini’s violin pieces were composed to mainly show off his skills as a violinist, so they tend to be long on flourishes and difficult passages. The piece was played at a quick tempo and the soloist rose to the challenge. He executed flawless the many technical challenges: double stop glissandos, flying arpeggios, staccatos, double harmonics, and runs. He should be forgiven for missing a note here or there. Indeed the audience applauded after the first movement which I thought was appropriate. After a relatively short second movement the piece continued without pause to the third. The three movements of the concerto are: Allegro maestoso, Adagio, and Rondo: Allegro spiritoso. Lendvay’s instrument is the 1693 “Ex-Ries” Stradivarius. One could quibble a bit with the tone quality at the higher pitches, but certainly it carried well and sounded excellent. The one knock on the performance is Lendvay seemed to be a bit careless during the less challenging pieces. He played an encore that I suspect he composed to showcase his own technical ability.
I heard a Schumann symphony not that long ago and really enjoyed it, so I was looking forward to this performance. Unfortunately, the best adjective to describe the performance is “uninspired.” The sounds are clear enough, the players were quite together, and the balance between the voices was good. Yet there was little dynamic variation or emotion attached to the player. I think Fischer tried to inject some life towards the end, but it was too little, too late. The four movements are Lebhaft, Scherzo:Sehr massig, Nicht schnell, Feierlich, and Lebhaft.
Both the soloist and the conductor were born in Budapest, perhaps this is how the connection between them was made.
The acoustics of the auditorium were reasonable, but not brilliant. There were quite a few empty seats.
Program
Overture to La gazza ladra (1817) by Rossini (1792-1868).
Violin Concerto No. 1 in D major, Op. 6 (1817-1818) by Paganini (1782-1840).
Symphony No. 3 (“Rhenish”) in E-flat major, Op. 97(1850) by Robert Schumann (1810-1956).
When David asked me if I wanted to attend this concert, I said yes, enthusiastically. I always find it interesting to attend concerts in other cities to see how these events compare with what we get in the New York area. This time the group consisted of nine people, David’s group of 4, and Johnny’s group of 4.
We had dinner at Thai Place. We picked it for convenience and proximity to the GWU metro station where we could pick up the Kennedy Center shuttle. The food turned out to be good, and reasonably inexpensive.
I played in this concert hall about 35 years ago (it was very new then) and hadn’t been back since. I did go to the Opera House on a couple of occasions. It looks a bit worn at the edges (especially the carpet) but is generally in great shape. Our seats had a great view of the stage.
I had never heard of the opera La gazza ladra (The Thieving Magpie) but certainly knew part of the tune. It is a short and delightful piece, and the orchestra gave it a spirited rendition.
I had never heard of Lendvay before, and neither had David. He ran onto the stage, and with his long hair could be confused with Paganin (perhaps that’s the idea). Paganini’s violin pieces were composed to mainly show off his skills as a violinist, so they tend to be long on flourishes and difficult passages. The piece was played at a quick tempo and the soloist rose to the challenge. He executed flawless the many technical challenges: double stop glissandos, flying arpeggios, staccatos, double harmonics, and runs. He should be forgiven for missing a note here or there. Indeed the audience applauded after the first movement which I thought was appropriate. After a relatively short second movement the piece continued without pause to the third. The three movements of the concerto are: Allegro maestoso, Adagio, and Rondo: Allegro spiritoso. Lendvay’s instrument is the 1693 “Ex-Ries” Stradivarius. One could quibble a bit with the tone quality at the higher pitches, but certainly it carried well and sounded excellent. The one knock on the performance is Lendvay seemed to be a bit careless during the less challenging pieces. He played an encore that I suspect he composed to showcase his own technical ability.
I heard a Schumann symphony not that long ago and really enjoyed it, so I was looking forward to this performance. Unfortunately, the best adjective to describe the performance is “uninspired.” The sounds are clear enough, the players were quite together, and the balance between the voices was good. Yet there was little dynamic variation or emotion attached to the player. I think Fischer tried to inject some life towards the end, but it was too little, too late. The four movements are Lebhaft, Scherzo:Sehr massig, Nicht schnell, Feierlich, and Lebhaft.
Both the soloist and the conductor were born in Budapest, perhaps this is how the connection between them was made.
The acoustics of the auditorium were reasonable, but not brilliant. There were quite a few empty seats.
Metropolitan Opera – Wagner’s Das Rheingold. March 30, 2011.
Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center – Balcony Seat G11 ($87.50).
Story. See prior post.
Conductor – Fabio Luisi; Rheinmaidens: Woglinde – Lisette Oropesa, Wellgunde – Jennifer Johnson Cano, Flosshilde – Tamara Mumford, Alberich – Richard Paul Fink, Fricka – Stephanie Blythe, Wotan – Bryn Terfel, Freia – Wendy Bryn Harmer, Fasolt – Franz-Josef Selig, Fafner – Hans-Peter Konig, Froh – Adam Diegel, Donner – Dwayne Croft, Loge – Arnold Bezuyen, Mime – Gerhard Siegel, Erda – Patrician Bardon.
We saw this as part of our (first) Ring series in Seattle in August, 2009. There is a possibility we will see all four operas (in sequence, at that) in the coming couple of years. We will see Die Walkure in May, and have Gotterdammerung as part of our subscription next season. So I just need to remember to buy tickets for Siegfried.
Speaking of tickets. When they went on sale (forget when) Anne and Chung Shu scrambled to buy four of them. Anne couldn’t go because of her business trip to Beijing. I put her ticket on Stubhub a couple of weeks ago, and sold it for $120 within hours (I netted $102). I notice others listed similar tickets at $200 or so. I don’t think that many got sold, and the other sold in the same section went for something like $75. So timing and asking prices are important: and I lucked out. A couple of days ago Shirley decided not to go, so we tried to sell it at the Plaza. We stood there for about 15 minutes and not one person came by to enquire. We decided to use the seat as a coat “hanger” but some lady eventually took the seat (I guess we could have asked for some money, but we didn’t.)
A lot has been written about the new Met set for the Ring cycle. I heard figures as high as $15M quoted (some critics say $40M, the Met says $17M, oh the beauty of accounting), and there seems to no debate that the set weighs 45 tons, and the building has to be reinforced to accommodate it. All good … until you find out the set is built by the design company owned by the director Robert Lepage. Self dealing, anyone?
Minimalist, versatile, brilliant are words that one can use to describe the set. Cheesy, “this again?”, and “what were they thinking” are other ways to do it. I saw the Damnation of Faust production, also by Lepage, and liked it. Even though I had not watched a complete Cirque du Soleil show at that time (only thing I saw were their TV ads), I already guessed there was some linkage to that genre. The use of wires to suspend people, the computer generated distortions as people take their steps, and the rigid march of soldiers are all replicated here. Novel the first time, a bit much the second time around.
The set is basically 24 planks (say 3 feet wide) that run along the length of the stage. Each plank is in three sections that can break off and pivot in various ways, and thus can be arranged to represent different “scenes”. When they are all lined up and bubbles projected onto them, we have the Rheinmaiden scene; when they are rotated on a horizontal axis, we have a staircase, when a few of them are made horizontal, we have the stage for the giants. If one has read up on the story then things can make sense, otherwise a great imagination is needed for any inkling of the setting of the act.
There is a scene where Freia is to be freed only if the gold used as ranson covers here completely. In this case she is encased in a net and the gold plates (or rather gold-colored plastic pieces) were piled on her, which didn’t work at all – everyone could still see her after all the gold is thrown into the net. You could nearly see (and definitely feel) Freia’s concern if things would hold up and she wouldn’t be dropped. Similarly, the body of Fasolt was disposed by raising the planks so he would slide off. He did hang on for balance. This was a lighter moment in the opera, and many laughed.
Alberich had a helmet (which looked more like a piece of chainmail) that he used to change into a snake and a toad. In the Seattle show there was a bit of magic to it, even though you know they made quick switches by darkening the auditorium for a split second. Here the head of the snake was brought out by a couple of stage hands, and on the other the tail flips around. And they don’t pretend there is any magic at all as Alberich (the man) just backs away from the stage.
With all the criticism, the staging overall works reasonably well. It reminds me of the South Amboy station which cost $45M (Wikipedia says $29M) to build and serves about 1000 passengers a day. It works, but there must be equally effective yet less expensive ways to do it. In the case of the train stain, most people suspect there was financial mismanagement, or worse.
I drifted off a bit at the beginning when the Rheinmaidens were singing and teasing Alberich, which is the start of all the troubles. The prurient in me wonders whether the ladies were topless underneath their fishnet costume, but their voices were quite good. I couldn’t help but chuckle when the giants first came on: they reminded me of the blimpy wrestlers you see during Nets basketball games.
The singing and orchestra were much better than what I experienced in Seattle. Not that I remember things that well, but I have no major complaints about either the singing or the orchestra. Stephanie Bythe also sang the role of Fricka in this show, and she was good. If she could lose 50 pounds or so she could be a real star, in my opinion – Voight, anyone? Turns out Albrecht was sung by the same person in Seattle also, but he evidently was not as memorable. A lot has been made about Bryn Tarfel who was generally okay, but not great. As Wotan he did quite a bit of singing (which I don’t remember) and he faded quite a bit towards the end.
The orchestra sound was good. It was probably larger than usual – I counted six harps, although I didn’t notice they all play at the same time. The horns were unsteady at times, especially at the very end.
The major opera houses pride themselves on not using any electronic amplification for the voices, and indeed Freia talks about how her voice effectively reflects off the set. On the other hand, there seems to be no qualms about using the latest computerized technology for staging or using non-period costume. Not that I have problems with either, but to me these practices are a bit contrived. Between not hearing and hearing it with acoustics aid (e.g., in the case of Kiri Te Kawana recently) I would definitely opt for the latter. I have come to the conclusion that few auditoria and singers are so good that everyone can hear everything sitting anywhere. And that, I am sad to say, includes Carnegie Hall.
By now I have heard these operas enough times that I can catch many of the leitmotifs, which makes it more enjoyable. Using a typical opera ticket cost, it costs around $500 to watch a ring cycle. I can see the expenses rack up if one wants to really get to know the cycle. The Program Notes did point out something interesting which came about because Wagner wrote the pieces in reverse order. By the time Das Rheingold was written, his style had changed substantially. That would explain why there are more standalone melodies in his “later” ring operas (e.g., Die Walkure) and that there are none in Das Rheingold. I am glad even music critics think there are no melodies to this opera.
Overall, I enjoyed it. I think I will go ahead and buy tickets to Siegfried.
Chung Shu drove to my house and I drove up to New York City. We had noodles at Ollie’s.
Story. See prior post.
Conductor – Fabio Luisi; Rheinmaidens: Woglinde – Lisette Oropesa, Wellgunde – Jennifer Johnson Cano, Flosshilde – Tamara Mumford, Alberich – Richard Paul Fink, Fricka – Stephanie Blythe, Wotan – Bryn Terfel, Freia – Wendy Bryn Harmer, Fasolt – Franz-Josef Selig, Fafner – Hans-Peter Konig, Froh – Adam Diegel, Donner – Dwayne Croft, Loge – Arnold Bezuyen, Mime – Gerhard Siegel, Erda – Patrician Bardon.
We saw this as part of our (first) Ring series in Seattle in August, 2009. There is a possibility we will see all four operas (in sequence, at that) in the coming couple of years. We will see Die Walkure in May, and have Gotterdammerung as part of our subscription next season. So I just need to remember to buy tickets for Siegfried.
Speaking of tickets. When they went on sale (forget when) Anne and Chung Shu scrambled to buy four of them. Anne couldn’t go because of her business trip to Beijing. I put her ticket on Stubhub a couple of weeks ago, and sold it for $120 within hours (I netted $102). I notice others listed similar tickets at $200 or so. I don’t think that many got sold, and the other sold in the same section went for something like $75. So timing and asking prices are important: and I lucked out. A couple of days ago Shirley decided not to go, so we tried to sell it at the Plaza. We stood there for about 15 minutes and not one person came by to enquire. We decided to use the seat as a coat “hanger” but some lady eventually took the seat (I guess we could have asked for some money, but we didn’t.)
A lot has been written about the new Met set for the Ring cycle. I heard figures as high as $15M quoted (some critics say $40M, the Met says $17M, oh the beauty of accounting), and there seems to no debate that the set weighs 45 tons, and the building has to be reinforced to accommodate it. All good … until you find out the set is built by the design company owned by the director Robert Lepage. Self dealing, anyone?
Minimalist, versatile, brilliant are words that one can use to describe the set. Cheesy, “this again?”, and “what were they thinking” are other ways to do it. I saw the Damnation of Faust production, also by Lepage, and liked it. Even though I had not watched a complete Cirque du Soleil show at that time (only thing I saw were their TV ads), I already guessed there was some linkage to that genre. The use of wires to suspend people, the computer generated distortions as people take their steps, and the rigid march of soldiers are all replicated here. Novel the first time, a bit much the second time around.
The set is basically 24 planks (say 3 feet wide) that run along the length of the stage. Each plank is in three sections that can break off and pivot in various ways, and thus can be arranged to represent different “scenes”. When they are all lined up and bubbles projected onto them, we have the Rheinmaiden scene; when they are rotated on a horizontal axis, we have a staircase, when a few of them are made horizontal, we have the stage for the giants. If one has read up on the story then things can make sense, otherwise a great imagination is needed for any inkling of the setting of the act.
There is a scene where Freia is to be freed only if the gold used as ranson covers here completely. In this case she is encased in a net and the gold plates (or rather gold-colored plastic pieces) were piled on her, which didn’t work at all – everyone could still see her after all the gold is thrown into the net. You could nearly see (and definitely feel) Freia’s concern if things would hold up and she wouldn’t be dropped. Similarly, the body of Fasolt was disposed by raising the planks so he would slide off. He did hang on for balance. This was a lighter moment in the opera, and many laughed.
Alberich had a helmet (which looked more like a piece of chainmail) that he used to change into a snake and a toad. In the Seattle show there was a bit of magic to it, even though you know they made quick switches by darkening the auditorium for a split second. Here the head of the snake was brought out by a couple of stage hands, and on the other the tail flips around. And they don’t pretend there is any magic at all as Alberich (the man) just backs away from the stage.
With all the criticism, the staging overall works reasonably well. It reminds me of the South Amboy station which cost $45M (Wikipedia says $29M) to build and serves about 1000 passengers a day. It works, but there must be equally effective yet less expensive ways to do it. In the case of the train stain, most people suspect there was financial mismanagement, or worse.
I drifted off a bit at the beginning when the Rheinmaidens were singing and teasing Alberich, which is the start of all the troubles. The prurient in me wonders whether the ladies were topless underneath their fishnet costume, but their voices were quite good. I couldn’t help but chuckle when the giants first came on: they reminded me of the blimpy wrestlers you see during Nets basketball games.
The singing and orchestra were much better than what I experienced in Seattle. Not that I remember things that well, but I have no major complaints about either the singing or the orchestra. Stephanie Bythe also sang the role of Fricka in this show, and she was good. If she could lose 50 pounds or so she could be a real star, in my opinion – Voight, anyone? Turns out Albrecht was sung by the same person in Seattle also, but he evidently was not as memorable. A lot has been made about Bryn Tarfel who was generally okay, but not great. As Wotan he did quite a bit of singing (which I don’t remember) and he faded quite a bit towards the end.
The orchestra sound was good. It was probably larger than usual – I counted six harps, although I didn’t notice they all play at the same time. The horns were unsteady at times, especially at the very end.
The major opera houses pride themselves on not using any electronic amplification for the voices, and indeed Freia talks about how her voice effectively reflects off the set. On the other hand, there seems to be no qualms about using the latest computerized technology for staging or using non-period costume. Not that I have problems with either, but to me these practices are a bit contrived. Between not hearing and hearing it with acoustics aid (e.g., in the case of Kiri Te Kawana recently) I would definitely opt for the latter. I have come to the conclusion that few auditoria and singers are so good that everyone can hear everything sitting anywhere. And that, I am sad to say, includes Carnegie Hall.
By now I have heard these operas enough times that I can catch many of the leitmotifs, which makes it more enjoyable. Using a typical opera ticket cost, it costs around $500 to watch a ring cycle. I can see the expenses rack up if one wants to really get to know the cycle. The Program Notes did point out something interesting which came about because Wagner wrote the pieces in reverse order. By the time Das Rheingold was written, his style had changed substantially. That would explain why there are more standalone melodies in his “later” ring operas (e.g., Die Walkure) and that there are none in Das Rheingold. I am glad even music critics think there are no melodies to this opera.
Overall, I enjoyed it. I think I will go ahead and buy tickets to Siegfried.
Chung Shu drove to my house and I drove up to New York City. We had noodles at Ollie’s.
The Elberoth Duo – Dongmyung Ahn, baroque violin; Yi-heng Yang, harpsichord. March 28, 2011.
Holy Trinity Lutheran Church, Central Park West, New York City
Program
“Three Bach Sonatas for violin and harpsichord”
Sonata II in A major, BWV 1015 by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)
Dolce
Allegro
Andante un poco
Presto
Sonata I in B minor, BWV 1014
Adagio
Allegro
Andante
Allegro
Sonata VI in G major, BWV 1019
Allegro
Largo
Allegro
Adagio
Allegro
I have known Yi-heng since she was born – her parents and we have known each other since our college days. She now holds a Doctor’s degree from Julliard and lives in Manchester, England with her double bassist husband Max. I also met Dee a couple of summers back when I was helping out at the summer music camp at our church.
The venue is a largish church located at corner of Central Park West and 65th. It puts out these Vespers as part of its ministry. I am told it can seat 700 people, there weren’t nearly as many people at tonight’s concert.
Period instruments were used in the performance. I guess there are no “modern” harpsichords anymore. However, both instruments are quite new. The harpsichord looked spotless, nary a scratch, with a shiny polish. The violin, according to Yi-heng, was made by a violin-maker from Texas. The bow is lighter, wound tightly, it seems, and the wood has a concave shape to it. The neck is supposed shorter. Since there is no chin rest, the violin has to be held up by the left hand, which makes position changes a bit more difficult. It sounds pretty much the same, except perhaps with a bit more of a bounce and smoother tone.
My prior encounters with a harpsichord were in an orchestral setting where they were mainly used to play the continuo part. I am a bit surprised at how soft it sounds even up close, and I wonder if they have dampers as the sound was a bit muddled. The fast passages came across as a big “glob” of sound, which is unfortunate as on a piano it would probably be brilliant. Perhaps better understanding come with a bit more training.
Stradivari, who died in 1733, was Bach’s contemporary. So an unaltered Stradivarius would be a legitimate period instrument. However, I suspect anyone who gets hold of one will immediately lengthen the neck, put in a chin rest, and have it otherwise restored so it can be auctioned off for a few million dollars! There must be some irony here.
The concert lasted about 45 minutes, although people hung around for quite a while afterwards. I took the train up and got a ride from Chung Shu.
Program
“Three Bach Sonatas for violin and harpsichord”
Sonata II in A major, BWV 1015 by Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750)
Dolce
Allegro
Andante un poco
Presto
Sonata I in B minor, BWV 1014
Adagio
Allegro
Andante
Allegro
Sonata VI in G major, BWV 1019
Allegro
Largo
Allegro
Adagio
Allegro
I have known Yi-heng since she was born – her parents and we have known each other since our college days. She now holds a Doctor’s degree from Julliard and lives in Manchester, England with her double bassist husband Max. I also met Dee a couple of summers back when I was helping out at the summer music camp at our church.
The venue is a largish church located at corner of Central Park West and 65th. It puts out these Vespers as part of its ministry. I am told it can seat 700 people, there weren’t nearly as many people at tonight’s concert.
Period instruments were used in the performance. I guess there are no “modern” harpsichords anymore. However, both instruments are quite new. The harpsichord looked spotless, nary a scratch, with a shiny polish. The violin, according to Yi-heng, was made by a violin-maker from Texas. The bow is lighter, wound tightly, it seems, and the wood has a concave shape to it. The neck is supposed shorter. Since there is no chin rest, the violin has to be held up by the left hand, which makes position changes a bit more difficult. It sounds pretty much the same, except perhaps with a bit more of a bounce and smoother tone.
My prior encounters with a harpsichord were in an orchestral setting where they were mainly used to play the continuo part. I am a bit surprised at how soft it sounds even up close, and I wonder if they have dampers as the sound was a bit muddled. The fast passages came across as a big “glob” of sound, which is unfortunate as on a piano it would probably be brilliant. Perhaps better understanding come with a bit more training.
Stradivari, who died in 1733, was Bach’s contemporary. So an unaltered Stradivarius would be a legitimate period instrument. However, I suspect anyone who gets hold of one will immediately lengthen the neck, put in a chin rest, and have it otherwise restored so it can be auctioned off for a few million dollars! There must be some irony here.
The concert lasted about 45 minutes, although people hung around for quite a while afterwards. I took the train up and got a ride from Chung Shu.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
NHK Symphony Orchestra, Tokyo - Andre Previn, conductor; Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, soprano. March 21, 2011.
Issac Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, Center Balcony (CB Center Left; Seat O19, $35).
Program
Green (1967) by Toru Takemitsu (1930-1996).
Vier letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs) (1948) by Richard Strauss (1864-1949).
Symphony No. 5 in B-flat Major, Op. 100 (1944) by Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953).
The Executive Director of Carnegie Hall and the chairman of the Orchestra came out at the beginning and gave short speeches about the recent events in Japan. The orchestra then played Bach’s Air from Orchestral Suite No. 3 to commemorate the tragedies. The group left Tokyo within a day of the earthquake, I assume many players have loved ones caught up in the still-onging drama, it must be heart-wrenching. Turns out Te Kanawa’s home country of New Zealand also suffered a major earthquake in Christchurch.
All the program pieces were written in the 20th century, and I was hearing them for the first time. I don’t think I had ever seen Andre Previn before, so I was not prepared to see him come on stage with a cane, nor his considerable problem climbing onto the podium. Of the over-80 conductors I have seen (Maazel, Masur, Sir Colin Davis, to name a few) he seems to be the frailest. He conducted while sitting in a chair with reasonable energy, most of the time.
Takemitsu is supposed to be the first well-known Japanese composer of western music. To quote from the Program Notes, the piece is “short, concentrated, and rapturous” and “the pensive opening becomes increasingly agitated …” which eventually gets to “as the work fades towards a quiet bell.” I am not sure I heard any of that.
Te Kanawa is a well-known opera singer. At 65 or so (New York Times says she’s 67), she doesn’t sing much nowadays, so we were looking forward to her performance. Alas, our seats (up in the second to last row) were great for orchestral music, but not so good with her voice. We had trouble hearing her, and what I heard sounded like English (the songs are in German). I assume things would be better if she looked up a bit, or our seats were at a lower level. Thus my principle of buying good tickets is again affirmed. The four last songs should be quite interesting: Spring; September; Going to Sleep; and At Sunset.
I generally like Prokofiev’s work, but only after multiple listenings. This symphony would fall into that category. The sounds are harmonious enough, and there appear to be many melodies. But I will need to familiarize myself with it if I am to enjoy it the same way I enjoy his violin concerto (in G minor) and his Romeo & Juliette ballet. The Four movements are Andante, Allegro marcato, Adagio, and Allegro giocoso.
We went to this concert with the Yangs. Driving in and out of the City was easy enough. We had sandwich and soup at Hale & Hearty Soups before the concert.
Also, I need to put in this obligatory complaint about the lack of leg room in the balcony section.
See the New York Times Review. It is quite brutal, both on Te Kanawa and Previn; it is a lot kinder on the orchestra.
Program
Green (1967) by Toru Takemitsu (1930-1996).
Vier letzte Lieder (Four Last Songs) (1948) by Richard Strauss (1864-1949).
Symphony No. 5 in B-flat Major, Op. 100 (1944) by Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953).
The Executive Director of Carnegie Hall and the chairman of the Orchestra came out at the beginning and gave short speeches about the recent events in Japan. The orchestra then played Bach’s Air from Orchestral Suite No. 3 to commemorate the tragedies. The group left Tokyo within a day of the earthquake, I assume many players have loved ones caught up in the still-onging drama, it must be heart-wrenching. Turns out Te Kanawa’s home country of New Zealand also suffered a major earthquake in Christchurch.
All the program pieces were written in the 20th century, and I was hearing them for the first time. I don’t think I had ever seen Andre Previn before, so I was not prepared to see him come on stage with a cane, nor his considerable problem climbing onto the podium. Of the over-80 conductors I have seen (Maazel, Masur, Sir Colin Davis, to name a few) he seems to be the frailest. He conducted while sitting in a chair with reasonable energy, most of the time.
Takemitsu is supposed to be the first well-known Japanese composer of western music. To quote from the Program Notes, the piece is “short, concentrated, and rapturous” and “the pensive opening becomes increasingly agitated …” which eventually gets to “as the work fades towards a quiet bell.” I am not sure I heard any of that.
Te Kanawa is a well-known opera singer. At 65 or so (New York Times says she’s 67), she doesn’t sing much nowadays, so we were looking forward to her performance. Alas, our seats (up in the second to last row) were great for orchestral music, but not so good with her voice. We had trouble hearing her, and what I heard sounded like English (the songs are in German). I assume things would be better if she looked up a bit, or our seats were at a lower level. Thus my principle of buying good tickets is again affirmed. The four last songs should be quite interesting: Spring; September; Going to Sleep; and At Sunset.
I generally like Prokofiev’s work, but only after multiple listenings. This symphony would fall into that category. The sounds are harmonious enough, and there appear to be many melodies. But I will need to familiarize myself with it if I am to enjoy it the same way I enjoy his violin concerto (in G minor) and his Romeo & Juliette ballet. The Four movements are Andante, Allegro marcato, Adagio, and Allegro giocoso.
We went to this concert with the Yangs. Driving in and out of the City was easy enough. We had sandwich and soup at Hale & Hearty Soups before the concert.
Also, I need to put in this obligatory complaint about the lack of leg room in the balcony section.
See the New York Times Review. It is quite brutal, both on Te Kanawa and Previn; it is a lot kinder on the orchestra.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Orpheus Chamber Orchestra with Rudulf Buchbinder, piano. March 19, 2011.
Stern Auditorium at Carnegie Hall, Section Parquet Right (Row Y, Seat 14, $25).
Program
Concerto for Small Orchestra, Op. 34 (1927) by Albert Roussel (1869-1937).
Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor, K. 466 (1785) by Mozart (1756-1791).
Waves (1988) by Fred Lerdahl (b. 1943).
Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major, K. 543 (1788) by Mozart.
The concert began with the Orchestra’s executive director speaking of the recent Japanese tragedies (earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear plants) and vowing to do the best to get the orchestra to Japan in 2012 as planned (including Sendai). The orchestra then played as a tribute Faure’s Pavanne. The audience applauded afterwards which I thought was slightly inappropriate. On the other hand, there was some awkwardness that needed to be broken up, and applauding perhaps was one way of doing it.
The Program Notes says that Roussel was a contemporary of Debussy and Ravel, but not nearly as well-known. This concerto for small orchestra represents Roussel’s later work and his “mature sound.” For me it also explains why his work is not played that often, since it definitely failed to grab me in any way, except it is thankfully short at about 12 minutes. The three movements are described by the annotator as (i) “rambunctious” Allegro; (ii) “central” Andante; and (iii) “concluding” Presto (well, there is more to the description).
Neither of the two Mozart pieces is considered to be among most popular of the composer's oeuvre (hey, I got to use this word, even though I had to murder the sentence). The piano concerto was composed by Mozart when he was very popular. He finished the Piano Concerto the day before the performance. The Program Notes talks about a subscription series with 151 patrons – evidently you didn’t need a huge audience to make it as a performer/composer during those times. I do not know the nuances of piano performance to distinguish a good one from an exquisite one, so I can just say I found this quite enjoyable. The lines were crisp, the dynamics were fluid, and the interplay between soloist and orchestra was good. The movements are (i) Allegro; (ii) Romanze; and (iii) Rondo: Allegro assai. Someone’s cell phone rang just as the soloist was about to launch into a cadenza; I guess these incidents can’t be helped. If the biography is any guide, Buchbinder is an impressively-credentialed artist.
The symphony was written three years later as a group of three (39, 40, 41). Mozart had fallen on hard times by then. Music historians think he was trying to drum up some business with these compositions, and sadly may not have heard them before he died. I do not find the performance of this Symphony particularly noteworthy, though. The four movements are (i) Adagio - Allegro; (ii) Andante con moto; (iii) Menuetto: Allegretto; and (iv) Finale: Allegro.
After the intermission, a WQXR DJ (forget her name) came on stage and had a short discussion with Lerdahl and violist Nardo Roy about the next piece “Waves.” It probably wasn’t rehearsed before hand; it certainly sounded that way. Two take-aways: waves refer to musical energy, and Roy finds the music to be complex at many levels.
This piece was written 20-plus years ago for three chamber orchestras, including the Orpheus. The orchestra first played it in 1989, a year after it was composed. And that was the last time it played the piece. Unless there are other connections, to say there is a history between the composer and the orchestra is stretching it a bit. What I am curious about is when the orchestra will play it next: another 20 or so years later?
As with the last Orpheus concert I went to, my impression of the orchestra is just so-so. It actually makes me wonder if Carnegie Hall is as acoustically perfect as it is said to be. Nonetheless, I renewed my subscription for the next season. At $25 a ticket it is not a tough decision to make.
Program
Concerto for Small Orchestra, Op. 34 (1927) by Albert Roussel (1869-1937).
Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor, K. 466 (1785) by Mozart (1756-1791).
Waves (1988) by Fred Lerdahl (b. 1943).
Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major, K. 543 (1788) by Mozart.
The concert began with the Orchestra’s executive director speaking of the recent Japanese tragedies (earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear plants) and vowing to do the best to get the orchestra to Japan in 2012 as planned (including Sendai). The orchestra then played as a tribute Faure’s Pavanne. The audience applauded afterwards which I thought was slightly inappropriate. On the other hand, there was some awkwardness that needed to be broken up, and applauding perhaps was one way of doing it.
The Program Notes says that Roussel was a contemporary of Debussy and Ravel, but not nearly as well-known. This concerto for small orchestra represents Roussel’s later work and his “mature sound.” For me it also explains why his work is not played that often, since it definitely failed to grab me in any way, except it is thankfully short at about 12 minutes. The three movements are described by the annotator as (i) “rambunctious” Allegro; (ii) “central” Andante; and (iii) “concluding” Presto (well, there is more to the description).
Neither of the two Mozart pieces is considered to be among most popular of the composer's oeuvre (hey, I got to use this word, even though I had to murder the sentence). The piano concerto was composed by Mozart when he was very popular. He finished the Piano Concerto the day before the performance. The Program Notes talks about a subscription series with 151 patrons – evidently you didn’t need a huge audience to make it as a performer/composer during those times. I do not know the nuances of piano performance to distinguish a good one from an exquisite one, so I can just say I found this quite enjoyable. The lines were crisp, the dynamics were fluid, and the interplay between soloist and orchestra was good. The movements are (i) Allegro; (ii) Romanze; and (iii) Rondo: Allegro assai. Someone’s cell phone rang just as the soloist was about to launch into a cadenza; I guess these incidents can’t be helped. If the biography is any guide, Buchbinder is an impressively-credentialed artist.
The symphony was written three years later as a group of three (39, 40, 41). Mozart had fallen on hard times by then. Music historians think he was trying to drum up some business with these compositions, and sadly may not have heard them before he died. I do not find the performance of this Symphony particularly noteworthy, though. The four movements are (i) Adagio - Allegro; (ii) Andante con moto; (iii) Menuetto: Allegretto; and (iv) Finale: Allegro.
After the intermission, a WQXR DJ (forget her name) came on stage and had a short discussion with Lerdahl and violist Nardo Roy about the next piece “Waves.” It probably wasn’t rehearsed before hand; it certainly sounded that way. Two take-aways: waves refer to musical energy, and Roy finds the music to be complex at many levels.
This piece was written 20-plus years ago for three chamber orchestras, including the Orpheus. The orchestra first played it in 1989, a year after it was composed. And that was the last time it played the piece. Unless there are other connections, to say there is a history between the composer and the orchestra is stretching it a bit. What I am curious about is when the orchestra will play it next: another 20 or so years later?
As with the last Orpheus concert I went to, my impression of the orchestra is just so-so. It actually makes me wonder if Carnegie Hall is as acoustically perfect as it is said to be. Nonetheless, I renewed my subscription for the next season. At $25 a ticket it is not a tough decision to make.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Metropolitan Opera – Tchaikovsky’s Queen of Spades. March 15, 2011.
Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center - Balcony Seat D27 ($87.50).
Story. Hermann is in love with Lisa. He also finds out Lisa’s Countess grandmother, known as The Queen of Spades, holds the secret to the three cards that form a winning combination. Even though Lisa is engaged to Yeletsky, she gives Hermann the key to the house. Hermann first sees the Countess and tries to use a pistol to force her to reveal the numbers; instead she dies from fright. The Countess appears to Hermann in a dream and reveals the numbers as “3, 7, and ace.” Lisa realizes that Hermann is consumed with this and drowns herself. Hermann goes to a card game and wins with the number 3 and 7. When he bets on the ace, he gets the queen of hearts instead and loses. He asks for forgiveness and stabs himself to death.
Conductor – Andris Nelsons. Hermann – Vladimir Galouzine, Prince Yeletsky – Peter Mattei, Lisa – Karita Mattila, The Countess – Dolora Zajick, Pauline/Daphnis – Tamara Mumford.
The Story I wrote above is the most “sensical” line I can put together. The original Pushkin short story has Hermann simply courting Lisa to get to the secret. The opera’s libretto was written by Modest, Tchaikovsky’s brother. Tchaikovsky wanted a more prominent role for Lisa so she ended up meeting with Hermann in Act III and killing herself. Also, in the Pushkin story Hermann went mad and lived in an asylum muttering “three, seven, ace” all the time. Whatever the reason, the story as told by the opera has many gaps. Lisa drowns herself by walking through a curtain; I wouldn’t have realized it had I not read the synopsis. Nonetheless, the story is coherent enough that its holes and inconsistencies didn’t bother me very much.
The Balcony section actually has good acoustics. Our seats were to the side, but we heard all the singers very clearly. We decided to subscribe again for the 2011/12 season and picked Balcony Prime seats. They are less expensive than Dress Circle seats, but the acoustics are a bit muffled for the rear DC seats.
The sets for this opera are quite elaborate. The Program Notes says Tchaikovsky didn’t set the story at the time of Catherine the Great (1762-1796) but in “the 19th-century fairyland known as the ‘18th century’”. Not that I would know the difference – perhaps the costume would be different? In any case, Catherine the Great made a short appearance (she walked in half-way and then left), no doubt to the puzzlement of many in the audience. It is amazing how deep the stage is, and in this opera the depth is used to good effect.
The current issue of Opera News has an article on the role of The Countess. The role is usually sung by a singer near retirement and allows her to have quite a bit of fun acting. There is also considerable singing, but not particularly challenging. The article exempts Zajick as someone at the twilight of her career, though. As a ghost, she climbs from an opening on the floor and crawls to the bed where Hermann is sleeping. Funny, a bit grotesque, but not scary. The ghost is dressed in red, not quite the white with a spot light that in my opinion would work better.
Tchaikovsky spreads the singing around. Other secondary characters also got to sing quite a bit. Of particular note is Tamara Mumford who sang both Pauline (Lisa’s sister) and Daphnis (a young man in the pastorale). Tchaikovsky certainly was capable of writing hummable melodies; for some reason he decided to use a different style. A notable exception in this case was the Pastorale where the melodies are all quite pleasant and singable.
For me the one missing element is the emotional aspect of the story. The work has enjoyable sets, singing, the orchestra played well, and there are some nice passages (even though not singable), but nothing tugs at your heart, which is a pity. Perhaps it is futile to add a love element to a story that is basically deceit-themed?
Overall, still an enjoyable experience. The New York Times review goes into quite a bit of detail about many aspects of the opera. In particular, it points out Mattila first sang in this production in 1995, and her voice is not as strong as before. Indeed I felt she had to strain a bit to get to the high notes. The reviewer also calls Zajick "luxury casting."
Story. Hermann is in love with Lisa. He also finds out Lisa’s Countess grandmother, known as The Queen of Spades, holds the secret to the three cards that form a winning combination. Even though Lisa is engaged to Yeletsky, she gives Hermann the key to the house. Hermann first sees the Countess and tries to use a pistol to force her to reveal the numbers; instead she dies from fright. The Countess appears to Hermann in a dream and reveals the numbers as “3, 7, and ace.” Lisa realizes that Hermann is consumed with this and drowns herself. Hermann goes to a card game and wins with the number 3 and 7. When he bets on the ace, he gets the queen of hearts instead and loses. He asks for forgiveness and stabs himself to death.
Conductor – Andris Nelsons. Hermann – Vladimir Galouzine, Prince Yeletsky – Peter Mattei, Lisa – Karita Mattila, The Countess – Dolora Zajick, Pauline/Daphnis – Tamara Mumford.
The Story I wrote above is the most “sensical” line I can put together. The original Pushkin short story has Hermann simply courting Lisa to get to the secret. The opera’s libretto was written by Modest, Tchaikovsky’s brother. Tchaikovsky wanted a more prominent role for Lisa so she ended up meeting with Hermann in Act III and killing herself. Also, in the Pushkin story Hermann went mad and lived in an asylum muttering “three, seven, ace” all the time. Whatever the reason, the story as told by the opera has many gaps. Lisa drowns herself by walking through a curtain; I wouldn’t have realized it had I not read the synopsis. Nonetheless, the story is coherent enough that its holes and inconsistencies didn’t bother me very much.
The Balcony section actually has good acoustics. Our seats were to the side, but we heard all the singers very clearly. We decided to subscribe again for the 2011/12 season and picked Balcony Prime seats. They are less expensive than Dress Circle seats, but the acoustics are a bit muffled for the rear DC seats.
The sets for this opera are quite elaborate. The Program Notes says Tchaikovsky didn’t set the story at the time of Catherine the Great (1762-1796) but in “the 19th-century fairyland known as the ‘18th century’”. Not that I would know the difference – perhaps the costume would be different? In any case, Catherine the Great made a short appearance (she walked in half-way and then left), no doubt to the puzzlement of many in the audience. It is amazing how deep the stage is, and in this opera the depth is used to good effect.
The current issue of Opera News has an article on the role of The Countess. The role is usually sung by a singer near retirement and allows her to have quite a bit of fun acting. There is also considerable singing, but not particularly challenging. The article exempts Zajick as someone at the twilight of her career, though. As a ghost, she climbs from an opening on the floor and crawls to the bed where Hermann is sleeping. Funny, a bit grotesque, but not scary. The ghost is dressed in red, not quite the white with a spot light that in my opinion would work better.
Tchaikovsky spreads the singing around. Other secondary characters also got to sing quite a bit. Of particular note is Tamara Mumford who sang both Pauline (Lisa’s sister) and Daphnis (a young man in the pastorale). Tchaikovsky certainly was capable of writing hummable melodies; for some reason he decided to use a different style. A notable exception in this case was the Pastorale where the melodies are all quite pleasant and singable.
For me the one missing element is the emotional aspect of the story. The work has enjoyable sets, singing, the orchestra played well, and there are some nice passages (even though not singable), but nothing tugs at your heart, which is a pity. Perhaps it is futile to add a love element to a story that is basically deceit-themed?
Overall, still an enjoyable experience. The New York Times review goes into quite a bit of detail about many aspects of the opera. In particular, it points out Mattila first sang in this production in 1995, and her voice is not as strong as before. Indeed I felt she had to strain a bit to get to the high notes. The reviewer also calls Zajick "luxury casting."
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