Oberon's Grove

Trifonov Triumphs @ The NY Phil

Above: pianist Daniil Trifonov

Tuesday December 30th, 2014 - My final musical event of the year. Avery Fisher Hall was packed with avid music-lovers as the Spanish conductor Juanjo Mena (NY Philharmonic debut) took the podium for the opening work, Capriccio espagnol by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov. 

Painted in vibrant colours and dancing in dazzling rhythms, this Capriccio is a vivid evocation of Spain. Finding inspiration in Spanish folk songs, Rimsky-Korsakov cast the piece in five continuous  movements: Alborada (“morning song”); Variazoni; again Alborada; “Scene and Gypsy Song”; and the fabulous Fandango Asturiano (a dance popular in northern Spain) which features the lilting sonic illusion of guitars being strummed to the jaunty clicking of castanets. The work features prominent passages for the solo violin, Sheryl Staples winning a round of 'bravas' as the conductor led her forward a solo bow at the end. Likewise Carter Brey (cello), Robert Langevin (flute) and Anthony McGill (clarinet) were all embraced by the enthusiastic crowd. And the horns were having a fine night of it. Señor Mena's debut was off to an auspicious start.

Kudos to the Hall's stagehands who re-configured the seating and parked the Steinway front-and-center in the twinkling eye.

The appearance of the boyish Daniil Trifonov was warmly greeted; with a charismatic air of mystery, this pale young man seemed to summon up imaginings of such great pianistic wonders as Chopin and Liszt who, if we believe what is written, could cast a spell over the multitudes with their virtuosic musical wizardry and their spiritual connection to the piano itself. Mr. Trifonov was so clearly enamoured of the keyboard, caressing it with his elegantly styled hands, nearly putting his ear to the keys as if they were whispering secrets to him. Intense when in motion, he seemed to be under in the piano's thrall, unable to resist it, like an obsessive lover. If all of this sounds high-flown, it's thoroughly true - though of course it would all be for nought if he lacked the technical mastery to match his physical passion. But...he has massive technique: he seems to burn with it, in fact. 

So it became both an aural and a visual fascination to experience his playing tonight, playing that was beautifully embraced by the orchestral sound under Maestro Mena's articulate leadership. For all the spectacular fluency of Trifonov's agility as his hands whisked magically up and down the keyboard, it was in the central Andante that his mystic conversation with Rachmaninoff reached us most affectingly: especially in the gentle hush of the long, slow ascent at the end.

Hailed by the crowd, the pianist gave us a solo encore played with delicate rapture. You can get a sense of the spell Daniil Trifonov casts with his playing here. And this quote from a Playbill article about the pianist says so much about him as an artist:  "...he approaches his work almost as a mission, and has compared the classical performer to a pastor and the performance space to a temple of art. He is ever mindful of the audiences who, he believes, need to experience something profound and meaningful in every concert."

Above: conductor Juanjo Mena

Maestro Mena has an Old World aura about him: passionate yet gentlemanly. His rendering of the Tchaikovsky 6th (Pathétique) symphony had great melodic breadth as well as a sense of nobility. From Judith LeClair's pensive opening bassoon passage, the symphony bloomed sonically with some truly splendid playing by the Philharmonic's richly gifted artists. In the midst of so much fabulous music-making, one moment stood out as exceptional: Anthony McGill's truly remarkable - whispered - playing of the clarinet theme near the end of the first movement. This was some of the purest and truest music-making I've ever experienced: how daring of Mr. McGill to play it ppppp...and how gorgeously he succeeded!

The symphony's final movement, the Adagio Lamentoso, was choreographed (more as a ritual than an actual ballet) by George Balanchine; seeming to be the choreographer's farewell to the world, it was performed only once during his lifetime, at the New York City Ballet's 1981 Tchaikovsky Festival. Longtime NYCBalletomanes have different memories of repeat performances, but it's most likely true that it was seen again - just once - after Balanchine's death, danced as a memorial. I never saw it, but I wish that I had.

AIDA @ The Met: First of Two

Monday December 29th, 2014 - A chance to hear two new-to-The-Met sopranos in the title-role of Verdi's AIDA within the space of five days. Tamara Wilson (above) made an auspicious House debut last week; I caught up with her tonight. On Saturday, another soprano, Marjorie Owens, is scheduled for a single performance as the Ethopian princess. Score desks were the solution for this thrice-familiar production, the $12 price tag meaning I needn't feel I'm throwing money away if I decide not to stay for the whole thing. Despite numerous distractions and some sub-par singing from other cast members, I was determined to hear Tamara's "O patria mia", so I stuck with it...and it was worth the wait.

Tamara Wilson made an excellent impression earlier this year in a performance of Max Bruch's oratorio MOSES at Carnegie Hall. Her Met debut came about when she was called upon to replace Latonia Moore in this series of AIDAs, Ms. Moore being pregnant. I was very glad to hear Ms. Wilson again so soon, and her performance overall was truly impressive. 

The house seemed fuller than on many recent evenings, and the performance begain auspiciously with an evocative playing of the prelude. Marco Armiliato, both here and in last week's TRAVIATA, seemed to be taking a more thoughtful approach to these two operas he's conducted so often; in the past his Verdi has often felt perfunctory and over-emphatic. This season he seems more tuned-in to the niceties of the scores.

Marcello Giordani's voice sounded wobbly and unsuppported as the opera began. He has absolutely no resonance in the lower range now, tending to 'speak' the words rather than sing them. In the past, his powerful upper-middle and high registers have managed to compensate for this fault, but tonight the top notes had a steady beat and a glare that was unpleasant. "Celeste Aida", a tenor test-piece that can defeat even singers on top form, was touch-and-go tonight as Giordani tried to a get a line going with little success. The climactic B-flat veered sharp. Two shouts of 'bravo' and tepid applause.

Violeta Urmana, after several seasons of singing soprano repertoire with variable success, has reverted to singing Amneris. Her tone was unsteady, with an unpleasantly wide vibrato. The voice is unrecognizable as belonging to the same woman who was a thrilling, contralto-rich Kundry in her Met debut in 2001. The wear and tear of such demanding roles as Isolde, Aida, Gioconda, and Odabella have worn the velvet off the tone and it was sad to hear her unpleasant singing tonight. She has power, and all the right instincts, but the voice just won't cooperate.

At last some balm for the ear as Ms. Wilson arrived onstage; it's a pleasing sound, a full-lyric-to-spinto voice with Met-filling amplitude and clarity. Her phrasing and dramatic nuances served the music very well, and I very much anticipated her "Ritorna vincitor" which she began excitingly by seizing the opening phrase the moment the preceding ensemble had ended. With this impetus, she was making a fine expressive effect with the music when suddenly the sound of loud talking from the lighting bay in the auditorium ceiling broke the spell. This problem has cropped up many times at the Met over the years, but this was by far the most blatant and disruptive incident. People around me began to mutter and whisper; one man went in search of an usher to complain. Meanwhile the soprano's "Numi pieta..." went for nought.

The talking continued throughout the quiet opening of the Temple scene - maring Jennifer Check's attractive voicing of the chant of the Priestess - and throughout the ballet interlude. At last the strong-voiced Ramfis of Dmitry Belosselskiy re-captured our attention: the light in the bay was extinguished and the music again became our focus. Mr. Giordani was in such pallid voice in this scene that I truly expected him to withdraw at the interval.

After a coma-inducing forty-minute intermission, the house lights dimmed very slowly and I was sure an announcement of a new tenor was forthcoming. But no, the show went on with Giordani.

Ms. Urmana managed by hook or by crook to sing Amneris's tricky "Ah, vieni...vien amor mio" entrances, but it was Ms. Wilson who carried the scene between the rivals. Ms. Urmana's voice, which has shrunk in size, was sometimes covered by the orchestra; a few of her dramatic interjections showed the desired spark, but mostly she seemed to be just getting by in parlous voice. Ms. Wilson's "Pieta ti prenda del mio dolor.." was beautifully voiced, but Urmana's spreading tops really deterred from their duet. Once Urmana made her exit we could finally savour Ms. Wilson's heartfelt, dynamically poised reprise of "Numi pieta..."

For the Triumphal Scene ballet I stood up to see if I could spot any of my dancer-friends doing the very animated Ratmansky choreography. The wigs and makeup are very disguising, but I did find Emery LeCrone at last, which made me smile.

Once the dust had settled after the ballet and parade, the tensions and inter-play of the ensuing ensemble were quite vivid. Giordani was at sea, talking his lines, but the two bassos (Mr. Belosselskiy and Soloman Howard as the King) were nicely sonorous. The entrance of Amonasro showed off George Gagnidze's power and dramatic word-colouring, whilst Ms. Wilson was able to sail nicely over the orchestra and massed chorus, taking a shining top-C at the climax of the great concertato. After Amneris has been awarded to Radames, the concluding ensemble went forward with a real swing to it and here Mr. Giordani's voice perked up and he hurled forth some stentorian B-flats. Ms. Wilson was not to be out-sung, and Ms. Urmana and Mr. Gagnidze and the bassos all got into it, with an exciting result.

I managed to survive the second intermission by chatting up a nearby Chinese boy who proved both knowledgeable and charming. It's so nice to find a young person with a genuine interest in this dying art form.

At last the gentle introduction to the Nile scene was heard (the orchestra doing a fine job all evening) and we were treated to a poised rendering of "O patria mia" with Ms. Wilson very attentive to the markings in the score (which I was following closely); she took an unusually powerful approach to the low-range phrase "No...no..mai piu, mai piu..." and moments later made a shining ascent to a silvery and sustained high-C; it's been a while since I've heard a soprano carry this off so well. Then a wonderful swelling tone on the high-A reprise of 'O...patria mia..." and then the final float tapering off. Excellent! 

George Gagnidze brought crisp dramatic accents to Amonasro's attempts to ensnare his daughter in his plan for revenge; Ms. Wilson, nicely lyrical at first, became more intense as she realized what her father's intentions were. The baritone rose to an excitingly loud and sustained "...dei Faraoni tu sei la schiava!" and then summoned up a persuasive legato for "Pensa che un popolo...vinto...straziato."

Arriving to meet his beloved, Giordani did his best singing of the evening, perhaps inspired by the soprano in their duet. Tamara's spun-silk phrasing of "La tra le foreste vergine..." had a seductive glow and the tenor tried hard to match her for phrasing and nuance, doing the best he could with a fractured instrument. And then Ms. Wilson floated up to a dreamy high B-flat.

After their well-voiced stretta, the drama quickly built with Gagnidze's revelation and his urgent plea that they should flee. Giordani belted out "Sacerdote! Io resto a te!" with as much authority as he could summon, but it wasn't enough.

Much as I wished to hear Tamara Wilson in the Tomb Scene, the thought of Urmana and Giordani slugging it out in the Judgement Scene (my favorite scene in all Verdi) proved too daunting, so I snuck out and headed home. I hope the soprano got the ovation she so truly deserved.

Note: I sent a message of complaint to The Met early the next morning about the disruption from the lighting bay and received almost immediately a reply that there had been a "flood" which caused emergency repairs to be made during the opera and the workmen had been talking. A flood, in the lighting bay, next to the chandeliers in the ceiling of the opera house?  OK, if you say so. But the sound of talking from that location has spoiled several Met performances over time and I find it hard to believe that this wasn't just another incident of someone working in the bay, babbling away to a colleague or on his cell-phone. 

Monday December 29th, 2014

AIDA
Giuseppe Verdi

Aida....................Tamara Wilson
Radamès.................Marcello Giordani
Amneris.................Violeta Urmana
Amonasro................George Gagnidze
Ramfis..................Dmitry Belosselskiy
King....................Soloman Howard
Messenger...............Eduardo Valdes
Priestess...............Jennifer Check
Dance...................Jennifer Cadden
Dance...................Scott Weber

Conductor...............Marco Armiliato


New York String Orchestra @ Carnegie Hall

Above: violinist Augustin Hadelich

Sunday December 28th, 2014 matinee - An matinee concert by the New York String Orchestra at Carnegie Hall brought us the scores of two favorite ballets: Tchaikovsky's Serenade for Strings (the setting of Balanchine's beloved classic) and the Barber violin concerto (one of Peter Martins' finest creations). In addition, Beethoven's Pastoral symphony (#6) rounded out the afternoon.

A huge crowd filled the venerable hall, perhaps drawn as much by attractive ticket pricing as by the inviting programming. Although betraying a lack of sophistication by applauding between movements - and even during one movement of the Serenade - they were on the whole very attentive and appreciative, and there were lots of young people present, a hopeful sign that live classical music still has the power to inspire in an age of I-phones and 'clouds'. We could have done without the baby, though.

Jaime Laredo took the podium, mustering a lush and soul-lifting sound from his young musicians in the Tchaikovsky. I sometimes wonder if people who've never seen Balanchine's ballet get the same spine-tingling raptures on hearing this score played in a concert hall. For ballet-goers, this is music indelibly linked to movement: to toe shoes and ice-blue tulle; so much so that, even though we know full well the order of the last two movements will be reversed, it's still a bit of a jolt when it happens. The musicians (so many Asian players - always a treat!) simply reveled in the rich textures and broad melodies with which the composer both seduces and inspires us. It was a - indeed, an inspiring - performance, loaded with sonic ravishments.

Augustin Hadelich then appeared, slender and dapper, and together with Maestro Laredo and the orchestra (enhanced by winds, piano, and timpani) gave a marvelous reading of the Barber concerto. Mr. Hadelich has an extraordinary gift for lyricism, his tone remaining blessedly sweet in the highest register whilst meanwhile showing an almost viola-like resonance in the lower range. Sweeping thru the poignant themes that the composer has lavished on the work, the violinist seemed to be reaching the hearts of the listeners; and in the insanely swift and dancing coloratura of the final presto, he was indeed impressive. 

Barber gives shining moments to some of the orchestral voices as well, most notably the oboe solo heard early in the second movement, played lovingly today by Emily Beare. Horn, flutes, clarinet and bassoon each have their say, and I love the way the piano is woven into the tapestry, Amalia Rinehart making a fine impression at the keyboard. I also greatly enjoyed the female timpanist, Yibing Wang.

Mr. Hadelich was rightly given a warm ovation and he very much deserved the Paganini encore which was granted, though I think I would have preferred to carry my deep enjoyment of the Barber right into the interval.

Beethoven's Pastoral is a very nice symphony: the music is overwhelmingly lovely and cordial, and even the momentary storm (which passes as swiftly as Rossini's witty thunderbolts in Barbiere di Siviglia) can't detract from the sheer serenity of the music. Well-played by the young musicians, I found the symphony too lulling and too long to sustain interest over its 40-minute duration. But the first half of the concert was entirely satsfying.

Score Desk for TRAVIATA

Above: soprano Marina Rebeka

Saturday December 27th, 2014 matinee - The Met's lame production of La Traviata - yet another attempt to make opera 'relevant' - isn't worth seeing, but I thought this particular cast might be worth hearing, so I bought a score desk for today's matinee. In the event, Marina Rebeka (Violetta) and Quinn Kelsey (Germont) made for a particularly exciting afternoon: their singing of the great Act II duet - the heart of the opera - was indeed memorable. And both of them were in fact excellent throughout. It's good to experience this kind of singing in a standard-rep work at The Met, for there's no guarantee of it in this day and age. 

On the podium, Marco Armiliato seemed more intent than usual on molding a convincing rendering of the score: sometimes he is too hasty, too loud, too provincial. But today he showed great attention to details of tempo and dynamic, and allowed his singers plenty of leeway to linger on favorite notes and pamper beloved phrases. The orchestra played very well.

Aside from Maria Zifchak (Annina) and James Courtney (Dr. Grenvil), the singers in the smaller roles were more serviceable than memorable.

In a role which has been sung in living memory at The Met by such luminaries as Richard Tucker, Alfredo Kraus, Carlo Bergonzi, Nicolai Gedda, Neil Shicoff, Placido Domingo, and Jonas Kaufmann, Stephen Costello - today's Alfredo - seemed like a case of sending a boy to do a man's job. A feeling of uncertain pitch pervaded quite a bit of Costello's singing, and despite a lovely passage here and there, he seemed unsure as the music ventured higher, and his breath-line sometimes didn't sustain. His offstage serenade in Act I was flat, and he struggled with the cabaletta "O mio rimorso", sounding tentative and uneasy. It's sad to hear a young and promising voice in this state; it might be a good idea for him to take a break and address the problems that seem to have cropped up in his singing.

But Marina Rebeka and Quinn Kelsey swept Verdi's immortal score to triumph with their outstanding vocalism all afternoon. Ms. Rebeka, who has proven vastly pleasing in Rossini's Moïse et Pharaon at Carnegie Hall and in Don Giovanni at The Met, moved into the upper echelons of the many Violettas I have encountered in-house - more than 60 of them to date - in my many years of opera-going. Her voice has a pearly sheen; she displays impressive dynamic control, appealing turns of phrase, vibrant top notes, agile coloratura; and it's a voice with a personality behind it. Her singing of the Act I scena was some of the most aurally stimulating I have heard in recent seasons, with plenty of verve in "Sempre libera" and a nicely placed E-flat to polish it off.

In Act II, the soprano met her vocal equal in Quinn Kelsey, who had sung an excellent Marcello in Boheme earlier this season. This vocal duo of Met-sized voices brought to this scene the kind of tonal allure, dramatic nuance, passion, and sheer vocal glamour that made the theatre seem to pulsate with emotion. Trading phrases, each seemed to produce one magical effect after another: the sopranos pppp "Di due figli?", the baritone's twinge of heartache at "Deh, non mutate in triboli..." and later his deeply felt "...tai detti a un genitor!" led us to Ms. Rebeka's superbly delicate "Dite alla giovine...": the absolute turning point of the opera. Throughout this duet, the two singers gave the kind of involved, emotionally engaging singing that seems often to be missing in performances today. I scrawled the word "Wow!" in my Playbill. 

Mr. Kelsey (above) returned for a big-toned, finely-modulated and tender "Di Provenza", winning a burst of sincere applause from the crowd (who were rather stingy with aria-applause today but went nuts at the end of the opera). I kind of wish they'd left off the baritone's cabaletta - which Kelsey sang very well but which seems musically trite to me and de-rails the impetus of the drama.

In the scene at Flora's, Mr. Costello sounded flattish and seemed to lack reserves of power for the denunciation scene, but Mr. Kelsey upbraided his son with some grand singing to which Costello's response was perhaps his best moment of the evening. Ms. Rebeka sailed over the ensemble with gleaming tone, having sung the opera's most moving passage - "Alfredo, Alfredo...di questo core..." (where she prays that God will spare her beloved from remorse for his callous behavior) - beautifully.

Moving directly from the country-house to Flora's party scene to the final scene in succession, without pause, makes for a very long sing for the soprano, but Ms. Rebeka took it all in stride and did some of her most ravishing singing in "Addio del passato" where she worked some piano magic along the way and for once made the second verse seem necessary. Despite Mr. Costello being again off-pitch in "Parigi, o cara" the soprano managed to carry it off, moving on to a pensive "Ma se tornando..." as the reality that Alfredo's love cannot save her sinks in; she bursts out thrillingly in "Gran dio, morir si giovine", though the tenor's response is effortful...and later in an ensemble passage he seems quite taxed by a couple of B-double-flats.

Her chance for happiness has come too late; but with a big build-up of hope, Violetta speaks of her pain having vanished. Rising to a stunning top-A on "O gioia!", Ms. Rebeka draws the opera to a heart-rending close.

Big ovations for the soprano and baritone at their curtain calls; the House was still resounding with cheers as I left. If my upcoming two performances of Aïda come close to the level of today's Traviata, I'll be more than pleased. 

Metropolitan Opera House
December 27, 2014 matinee

LA TRAVIATA
Giuseppe Verdi

Violetta.....................Marina Rebeka
Alfredo......................Stephen Costello
Germont......................Quinn Kelsey
Flora........................Maya Lahyani
Gastone......................Eduardo Valdes
Baron Douphol................Jason Stearns
Marquis D'Obigny.............Kyle Pfortmiller
Dr. Grenvil..................James Courtney
Annina.......................Maria Zifchak
Giuseppe.....................Juhwan Lee
Messenger....................Joseph Turi
Guest........................Athol Farmer
Gentleman....................Paul Corona

Conductor....................Marco Armiliato

There Is An Inn

"There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old grey hill,
And there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays a five-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a hornéd cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
And these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and rolled beneath his chair;
And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
"The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!"

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
a jig that would wake the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
"It's after three!" he said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed."

~ JRR Tolkien

New Music Director at NYC Ballet

New York City Ballet have announced the appointment of Andrew Litton (above) as music director. Litton, a native New Yorker, is the sixth conductor to hold the coveted post.

Visit Maestro Litton's website and learn all about him here.

And while we're on the subject of New York City Ballet, ballerina Faye Arthurs has posted a charming story about the Company's annual NUTCRACKER season here.

Joy To The World: BRANDENBURGS @ CMS

Tuesday December 16th, 2014 - New York City Ballet have Balanchine's NUTCRACKER; The Philharmonic offers the MESSIAH; and The Met's giving holiday performances of HANSEL & GRETEL. But it's Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center who give us an extra-special gift every year in the run up to Christmas Eve: the complete Brandenburg concertos of Johann Sebastian Bach.

Last year the Society scheduled two performances of this programme, both of which were sold out. This year they have added a third performance, which is the one Dmitry and I attended tonight. And on Thursday they'll take the Brandenburgs on the road, to the Harris Theater in Chicago.

A large crowd this evenng, with additional rows of seating near the stage. A pair of fidgety neighbors were a bit of a distraction, but at least they were silent. The concertos, played in a different order each year, unfolded magically; each has its own complement of players and the Society assembled a roster of excellent musicians who traded off 'seatings' from one concerto to the next. So nice to see principal artists from The New York Philharmonic (Robert Langevin, flute, and Timothy Cobb, double-bass) and The Metropolitan Opera (Julia Pilant, horn) joining CMS from their neighboring home theatres. Mr. Cobb and John Gibbons (immaculate playing at the harpsichord) performed in all six concertos. The programme looks long on paper, but actually the evening flew by with a savourable mixture of virtuosity and expressive poetry.

The performance opened with the #1 concerto in F-major, which sounds so Handelian to me. This is the concerto with two horns and a trio of oboes. Ms. Pilant and Julie Landsman sounded the brightly-harmonized horn calls with assurance, whilst Stephen Taylor, Randall Ellis, and James Austin Smith piped up delightfully with their oboes, joined by Marc Goldberg on bassoon. Oboe, violin, bassoon and bass sound the poignant adagio, then the high horns ring out briskly in the allegro. You think it's over, but there's a surprise fourth movement - it veers from minuet to polonaise - in which separate choirs of winds and strings summon up the rhythms of the dance.

In concerto #6 (B-flat major) which follows, a trio of cellos (Pauk Watkins, Eileen Moon, Timothy Eddy) bring a particular resonance to the score. The adagio - one of Bach's most movingly melodious inventions - opens with the solo viola (Lily Francis) who passes the theme to violinist Lawrence Dutton. This is a passage that one wants to go on and on. But the closing allegro sweeps us inexorably forward.

Violinist Benjamin Beilman took the lead in the 4th concerto (in G-major); the satiny sheen of his sustained tones and his very deft management of the coloratura passages were indeed impressive, and he is an animated, deeply involved musician. The duo flautists Sooyun Kim and Robert Langevin warbled with silvery sweetness in the fleet phrases of the outer movements and blendied serenely in the central andante.  Ben Beilman's striking virtuosity and his elegant lyricism marked a high point in an evening loaded with superb playing.

After the interval, in the 5th concerto (D-major), John Gibbons' harpsichord artistry was to the fore, giving great pleasure in a long, complex and brilliantly etched 'mega-cadenza' at close of the first movement. The central affetuoso movement brings the sterling flute of Mr. Langevin and the poised violin phrasing of Sean Lee, mingling their 'voices'  with the keyboard textures Mr. Gibbons so impressively evoked. Yet again, we feel Bach's genius being transmitted to us in all its poignant clarity. The mood and pace then bounce back emphatically with a brisk final allegro.

The 3rd concerto, in G-major, is unique in that the expected central slow movement is replaced by a mere couple of chords before going immediately into allegro overdrive. Thus the entire piece simply rushes forward in a whirlwind of animated playing. The all-strings setting (plus harpsichord, of course) features a large ensemble and much rhythmic and melodic variety whilst always sailing onward.

The evening's final work, the 2nd concerto (in F-major), arrived far to soon. In flourishing flights to the upper range, David Washburn's Baroque trumpet gave the arcangel Gabriel a run for his money. Equally scintllating to the ear was Sooyun Kim's limpid flute playing: both in agility and in sustained, luminous tone, she made a wonderful impression. In the andante, a particularly fine blend of timbres from Ms. Kim, Stephen Taylor (oboe), Lawrence Dutton (violin) and Paul Watkins (cello) made me again want to linger; but the trumpeter's silvery calls in the final allegro assai swept us on to the evening's celebratory conclusion.

The young violinist Sean Lee, playing the concertos with CMS for the first time, wrote movingly of the experience in a Playbill note: "I cannot think of a more joyous, warm, celebratory set of pieces to revel to, as if gathering around a fire during these winter months." Amen to that!   

The participating artists:

• John Gibbons , harpsichord
• Aaron Boyd , violin
• Sean Lee , violin
• Daniel Phillips , violin
• Benjamin Beilman , violin
• Lawrence Dutton , viola
• Lily Francis , violin
• Timothy Eddy , cello
• Eileen Moon , cello
• Paul Watkins , cello

• Timothy Cobb , double bass
• Sooyun Kim , flute
• Robert Langevin , flute
• Randall Ellis , oboe
• James Austin Smith , oboe
• Stephen Taylor , oboe
• Marc Goldberg , bassoon
• Julie Landsman , horn
• Julia Pilant , horn
• David Washburn , trumpet

Janis Martin Has Passed Away

Above: Claudio Abbado and soprano Janis Martin prior to a performance of Schoenberg's ERWARTUNG at La Scala, 1980

Following yesterday's news of the death of Irene Dalis, more sad tidings in the opera world today with the passing of Janis Martin, the American mezzo-turned-soprano, a singer who loomed large in my opera-going career. A Met Auditions winner in 1962 (she sang Dalila's "Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix" at the Winners' Concert), Martin sang nearly 150 performances at the Metropolitan Opera, commencing in 1962 as Flora Bervoix in TRAVIATA. As a young opera-lover, I heard her many times on the Texaco broadcasts. She eventually progressed to "medium-sized" roles: Siebel, Nicklausse, Lola in CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA. Martin left The Met in 1965 and built a career abroad, moving into soprano territory. She returned to The Met and from 1974 thru 1977; during these seasons, she was my first in-house Kundry, Marie in WOZZECK, and Sieglinde. Another hiatus, and then she was back at Lincoln Center from 1988-1992, singing the Witch in HANSEL & GRETEL, the Dyer's Wife in FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, Senta, the Foreign Princess in RUSALKA, and two performances of TOSCA.

In the past couple of months, I've taken a renewed interest in Janis Martin's singing, after first hearing her as Gutrune in a recording of a tremendous GOTTERDAMMERUNG from Bayreuth 1975. This prompted me to pursue her further, acquiring her Senta in a 1972 Vienna HOLLANDER. Waiting in my pile of "to-listen-to" CDs is her WALKURE Fricka, from Bayreuth 1968. I also searched out my old cassettes of her Met broadcast as the Dyer's Wife (she sings tirelessly, and with great vocal thrust and considerable beauty of tone) and I purchased her commercial recording of ERWARTUNG with Pierre Boulez conducting, which is very impressive.

Janis Martin sings two songs from Hindemith's Drei Gesänge op.9 here. The songs are "Meine Nächte sind heiser zerschrien" (text by Ernst Wilhelm Lotz), and "Weltende" (text by Else Lasker-Schüler).

Irene Dalis Has Passed Away

Above: Irene Dalis as Herodias in SALOME

Another of my great idols from my early years of opera-going has passed away: Irene Dalis - who, after a long singing career went on to run Opera San Jose - has died at the age of 89.

In 2007, I wrote an appreciation of Dalis for my blog and a few months afterward she either found it or it was pointed out to her, and she sent me a lovely note of thanks. I still have the Christmas cards she used to send me back in the '60s and '70s when she was singing at The Met.

Cherylyn Lavagnino's Salon

Above: dancers are Claire Westby, Adrian Silver, and Selina Chau of Cherylyn Lavagnino Dance in a salon-showing of Naděje, a work-in-progress by Ms. Lavagnino

Sunday December 14th, 2014 - On this cold, clear afternoon, friends of Cherylyn Lavagnino Dance gathered for a studio showing of works (and works-in-progress) by Cherylyn and by Christine McMillan, a dancer/choreographer with enduring ties to Cherylyn's company.

The programme opened with Naděje ('Hope') a piece Cheylyn is in the midst of creating. Drawing inspiration from the life of Václav Havel, the great Czech writer, philosopher, dissident, and statesman, Cherylyn turns to music of Havel's fellow countryman Leoš Janáček: the composer's violin sonata, composed in 1914 (and later revised). The ballet calls for a large cast and the choreography displays Cherylyn's characteristic flow of movement and her spot-on sense of structure. I look forward to following the development of this new work.

Here are a few more images from Naděje:

Giovanna Gamna, Travis Magee

Selina Chau

Justin Faircloth

Giovanna Gamna, Travis Magee in Naděje

Above: Assaf Benchetrit and Laura Mead, dancing to Rachmaninoff

A portion of an as-yet-untitled duet which Cherylyn is creating for Indianapolis City Ballet is set to piano music of Sergei Rachmaninoff. Clad in creamy white, dancers Laura Mead and Assaf Benchetrit move with impetuous lyricism thru combinations drawn from the classic ballet vocabulary but with a fresh accent.

Above: Assaf Benchetrit and Laura Mead

Cherylyn's 2010 dancework Snap Shots is an ensemble work danced to an original score by Kyle Olson. Set in four movements, the work features a double pas de deux, a male soloist with a quartet of ballerinas, a duet for two men, and a full-cast finale. The work is spacious and animated, including a passage where two men race about the space as if pursued.

Images from Snap Shots:

Adrian Silver, Selina Chau

Adrian and Selina

Christine Luciano, Lila Simmons, Giorgia Bovo, Claire Westby

Above: Christine McMillan in her solo Woman in Dress

Christine McMillan's self-choreographed solo, Woman in Dress, unfolds to music by Hildur Gudnadóttir and Ólafur Arnalds. The dancer, who presents an interesting mixture of feminine strength and delicacy, uses her expressive arms and hands to poetic effect. In the course of the dance she moves from ecstatic heavenward reach to elements of self-examination, a self-portrait with an intrinsic emotional quality.

Images of Christine McMillan in Woman in Dress:

Christine McMillan: Woman in Dress

The presentation ended with a performance of Cherylyn's Ru, which premiered last season and is set to a score by Scott Killian. Inspired by the Saigon-born writer Kim Thúy's novel of the same title, Ru, which means 'lullabye' in Vietnamese, depicts the flight of a young girl's family from the Communists who have seized their home, first to Malaysia and eventually to Canada. Furtive and desperate, the women in this dancework bond together in quiet rituals; the men - in sexy costumes - alternately seem like oppressors and protectors. Scott Killian's music provides the atmospheric setting for some of Ms. Lavagnino's most expressive choreography.

Some of the dancers in Ru are:

Giovanna Gamna

Travis Magee, Selina Chau

Justin Faircloth

Christine Luciano

Adrian Silver

Lila Simmons and Selina Chau in Ru