Oberon's Grove

Boston Trio @ Weill Hall

Above: The Boston Trio: Heng-Jin Park, piano; Jonah Ellsworth, cello; Irina Muresanu, violin

Author: Oberon

Thursday September 28th, 2017 - Inaugurating my 2017-2018 Carnegie season with an ensemble new to me - the Boston Trio - in concert at Weill Hall. In terms of both programming and playing, the evening (aptly sub-titled Wheel of Colors) was a genuine pleasure; a large and very attentive audience made for a congenial atmosphere.

The program was finely-constructed, with some 'new' music to begin, followed by an incredibly inventive arrangement of a symphonic classic, and concluding with a familiar and beloved Dvořák piano trio. We sat close, on the keyboard side, and were deeply immersed in the music. The pianist wore red, the violinist a lovely pale lemon-yellow frock, and the cellist an open-collar blue shirt; they were as pleasing to watch as to hear, and Ms. Muresanu's elegant posture was an added delight.

Jennifer Higdon: Piano Trio

I. Pale Yellow

II. Fiery Red

I admit to being unfamiliar with Jennifer Higdon's music, though her name figures prominently among current composers. The two movements of Higdon's Piano Trio seemed like miniature tone poems, and they were superbly played by the Boston Trio.

In the first, Pale Yellow, the composer reveals a romantic bent: the music is lyrical, melodious, devoid of angularity. Yet while harkening back to a more gracious era, the piece seems utterly contemporary and fresh. It served as a perfect introduction to the three artists of the Boston Trio.

Pale Yellow begins with a wistful passage for the piano; the cello comes in on a soft, sustained tone. The violin joins, entwining its voice with the cello in close, intriguing harmonies. The music flows lovingly: the cello sinks to the deep range as the violin sings high and sweet. Our three players develop a warm resonance of sound and then the music turns turbulent before rising...soaring. There's a sort of coda, with the violin again lingering on high. A lovely, gradual resolution leaves the audience in a spellbound state.

A complete volte face for the second movement: Fiery Red is aptly titled. It commences with violent energy, Ms. Muresanu slashing her bow across the strings. At the piano, Heng-Jin Park strikes up a dynamic dance, but suddenly things come to a halt. Then the strings begin to buzz as the piano gets a bit jazzy. This develops into a plodding piano figuration as violin and cello pluck away. An energy build-up sends the violin and cello high with a scratchy edge to their playing. From a piano heartbeat, the volume amps up and the music starts to sway heavily. Musical peaks and valleys eventually surge forward to the ending. 

Great playing from all three musicians, and the audience really seemed to be soaking it all in. Now I need to hear more of Higdon's music: it's refreshing to find a contemporary composer who in unafraid of melody and sentiment on the one hand, and who can then can turn bristling and quirky moments later.

After the briefest of pauses, the trio returned for the Debussy.  

Debussy/arr. Beamish: La Mer

I. De l'aube à midi sur la mer

II. Jeux de vagues

III. Dialogue du vent et de la mer

The idea of hearing Debussy's  La Mer arranged for piano trio was a key factor in my decision to attend this concert. Sally Beamish, London-born violist and composer, arranged the Debussy masterwork in 2013 for the Trio Apaches, a British ensemble. I can only marvel at what Ms. Beamish accomplished, and marvel further at the Boston Trio's splendid playing of the piece.

There's no sense of miniaturization or of anything being 'left out" in Ms. Beamish's adaptation: the sound our trio produced tonight had a quite amazing orchestral quality, and Debussy's reputation as a colorist didn't suffer at all as they played with such depth both of tone and of feeling.

Ms. Beamish hands much of the responsibility for the success of her setting to the pianist, and Heng-Jin Park seized on the opportunity, playing beautifully and conjuring the mood shifts of each of the three movements. 

The pianist commences De l'aube à midi sur la mer quiet and low, and the tremelo strings join in, developing a sense of mystery. Dense textures evolve, with gently rocking waves evoked by the strings; later, piano and cello pulsate with a violin overlay. Taking on a symphonic quality, the three players bring out delicious colours. The violin shimmers, the cello sings deep, the piano is luminous: sustained, heartfelt, passionate playing from all.

Rippling sensations from the keyboard open Jeux de vagues, with the strings in agitation. Heng-Jin Park gracefully executes the melismas that Debussy originally assigned to the harp - so atmospheric - and Ms. Muresanu's trills are a further attraction. The music fades into a hazy mist.

Low grumbling from Heng-Jin Park's Steinway and a restless passage from Mr. Ellsworth's cello set Dialogue du vent et de la mer on its way. The restless yearning of a downward-bending 2 note/4 note motif that recurs in this movement is a signature element of La Mer, and Ms. Beamish's arrangement employs it intriguingly. The depth of sound the three musicians achieve is most gratifying, and contrasts magically with the calm stillness of the piano repeating the main motif. This theme is taken up by all three, with a build-up of ecstatic tension.

Experiencing the Debussy in this intimate setting is something I'll always remember; roses for Ms. Beamish to hail her accomplishment, and gratitude to the Boston Trio for bringing the work to us, and playing it so very well.

Following the interval, Dvořák provided an ideal conclusion to the evening.   

Dvořák: Piano Trio in F Minor, Op. 65

I. Allegro, ma non troppo

II. Allegretto grazioso

III. Poco Adagio

IV. Finale. Allegro con brio

With the new music and the Debussy arrangement behind us, I simply let the familiar Dvorák play on, genuinely savoring the artistry of the three musicians and vastly enjoying their performance. My companion of the evening, choreographer Claudia Schreier, spoke afterwards of experiencing a deep connection both to this music and the Boston Trio's performance of it.

A full-house standing ovation followed the Dvorák; the musicians came out for a couple of bows, and, as it became evident the crowd wanted to hear more music, the trio graciously gave us the Presto from Haydn's C-major trio. This music is sparkling, with a somewhat ironic quality, and with a darkish interlude. It showed off the three players superbly and brought the evening to a merry end.

~ Oberon

Opening Night @ The Met: NORMA

~ Author: Oberon

Monday September 25th, 2017 - I took a score desk for this evening's NORMA at The Met; if memory serves, this the first time I've ever attended an opening night.

In 2013, Sondra Radvanovsky gave a sensational portrayal of Norma at the Met. She has sung a great deal since then, and in very demanding roles. One hoped very much that her success tonight might equal or even surpass her prior Met outing as Bellini's noble and tragic priestess.

The evening started out on a sour note: with a scheduled start-time of 6:30 PM, the hall should have been open for seating by 6:00 PM or very shortly thereafter. Instead, ticket-holders were left standing outside closed doors for nearly 25 minutes. Balcony and Family Circle patrons were packed into the hot, airless area outside the auditorium, and many elderly people found this truly unpleasant. No announcement or explanation was given.

The house was not full as we settled in. Following the playing of the National Anthem, during which no one seemed to be kneeling but some soprano took the 'Licia Albanese option', there was a long pause, and at last the opera began. Then there was an immediate disruption in my area as a late-arriving patron was seated by a flashlight-wielding usher.

As I was at score desk, I cannot report on the production, but I do want to see it at some point later in the season: a friend who had attended the dress rehearsal assured me that it's the kind of production I will like.

Carlo Rizzi has never been more than a routinier; he was absent from The Met for nine years (from 2007 to 2016) but now he's back, conducting a new production on opening night. This was actually one of the better Rizzi experiences I have had over the years, though still not really inspired. There were some cuts taken, and also a couple of very weird re-arrangements of things, of which there were no signs in the score I was following. The orchestra played quite beautifully all evening - notably the flute solo that introduces "Casta diva" - and the chorus seemed at their best.   

Michelle Bradley sang Clothilde - we'll have to wait to hear her in something bigger to get an idea of the voice, but it seems promising - and Adam Diegel was a vocally strong and assured Flavio.

Matthew Rose (above) was a splendid Oroveso, covering the wide range impressively and bringing the role very much to prominence. Both his great scenes - "Ite sul colle" and "Ah, del Tebro" - were vocal highlights of the evening, and in an story full of broken hearts, Mr. Rose reminded us of Oroveso's own heartache with his expressive singing in the final pages of the opera.

As Pollione, Joseph Calleja's voice sounded huge in his opening phrases. I love the sound of his voice, and his phrasing, inflections, and mastery of working piano/pianissimo shadings into the vocal line were truly impressive. Unfortunately, much of his vocalism all evening was beset by a tendency to sing sharp, and this offset the positive aspects of his performance.

I've always felt that Adalgisa should be sung by a soprano; despite the thrill of hearing the voice of a Simionato, Horne, or Cossotto in this music, both its range and the character's supposed youthfulness seem to call for a lighter quality. Joyce DiDonato's somewhat slender voice definitely has a sopranoish quality to it, and from her first soft entry, her opening monolog (it's not really an aria) was extremely impressive both as singing and as a portrait of the character: young, hopeful, vacillating in her romantic turmoil. Ms. DiDonato was able to bring a sense of drama to everything while remaining scrupulously musical.

Above: Joyce DiDonato

In the exciting duet for Adalgisa and Pollione that concludes the opera's first scene there developed a remarkable atmosphere mixing desire with apprehension: Ms. Di Donato's excellent colourings brought the young priestess's dilemma to high relief. Stating that she must never see Pollione again draws his query: "E il nostro amor?" ("And what of our love?") to which Ms. DiDonato replied on an exquisitely sustained top-A: "Ah...l'obbliai!" (" Let it be forgotten!"). Later, Mr. Calleja had one of his loveliest moments as he asked her, sweetly, "Abbandonarmi cosi?" ("You would abandon me, then?"). Later, Ms. DiDonato interpolated an exciting volley at "Mi lascia!" ("Leave me!"), and the end of their duet drew thunderous applause. 

From this point forward, Adalgisa's music is tightly meshed with Norma's, so I will digress now to discuss Sondra Radvanovsky's performance of the high priestess's great opening scena. Establishing her authority at once, the soprano's well-measured recitative "Sediziose voci" set the groundwork for all that will follow. Calming her people's cries for war against the Romans, she assures them that Rome will perish - not thru their uprising but "like a viper self-stung..." Then comes the evening's first great moment of Radvanovsky magic: a simply ravishing, sustained pianissimo high-A on "...io mieto."

Sondra's "Casta diva" this evening was one of the most moving and fascinating musical experiences of the past two decades: not only was it beautifully phrased and enunciated: it transcended the act of singing and took us to a higher spiritual level. At first, following along with my score, I was mesmerized not only by the soprano's unique timbre but also by her ideal turns of phrase: it's how I've always imagined this aria could be sung. I became aware of the palpable hush that had fallen over the House: the entire audience seemed spellbound, afraid to even breathe lest the spell be broken. A singer with the power to hold an opera house in the palm of her hand is a rarity today; in this heartfelt and ever-so-timely prayer for peace, Sondra's voice seemed like a beacon of hope. 

Reassuring the populace that the Roman proconsul will fall with her stunning "Cadra! Punirlo io posso!", Sondra now sings the cabaletta "Ah bello a me, ritorna" expressing her hope that she can again find joy in her love for Pollione which has of late been strained for some reason she can't comprehend. Despite a few passing phases where her coloratura was a bit imprecise, Sondra swept thru the first verse with aplomb, then took a cadenza up to a gorgeous ppp high-C before commencing an embellished second verse; this she crowned with a massive high-C. 

In the opera's second scene, the reason for the perceived rift between Norma and Pollione is revealed: he has fallen in love with the younger Adalgisa. In their meeting, as Adalgisa explains her predicament to Norma, the older woman is at first sympathetic; but when it's revealed that Adalgisa's suitor is "a Roman", all hell breaks loose.

In this duet, Norma reassures Adalgisa with the phrase "Ah si, fa core" ("Take heart...!) which carries her up to a sustained top-C. Normally, Adalgisa repeats this phrase and mirrors Norma's high note; tonight, instead, we went off on some interpolated tangent I'd never heard before. Finally, the two women blend voices in a harmonized cadenza: Radvanovsky and DiDonato matched up very well indeed.

When Pollione shows up (drawing titters from the audience), Sondra launches Norma's vicious "Oh, non tremare!" with its dual assaults on high-Cs that are simply ballistic. A trace of flatness intruded at "O di qual sei tu vittima" but was quickly set to rights. The ensuing trio is given the full treatment, including a sometimes-cut 'verse' for Adalgisa. The stretta is then thrillingly rendered, with Sondra latching on to a stupendous high-D.

How beautifully the Met strings 'sang' the melody of "Teneri figli" ("Beloved children..") at the start of Act II. In the monolog where Norma ponders killing her sons, Sondra made cunning use of chest voice. She sang the long lines of "Teneri figli" with moving inflections.

Adagisa, awash with guilt at having hurt Norma, is shocked to hear Norma ask her to take the children to Pollione and remain with him: "Pei figli suoi..." as Sondra sings with such dazzling control: "...for the sake of his children..." Ms. Di Donato again skirted a high-C that echoes Norma's, though she seems to have the note in her range.

If my ears played me true, "Mira, O Norma" was sung in F; it might have been better taken down a have-tone as Ms. DiDonato's voice seemed to be tiring just a bit (though still mighty attractive) and some of her highest notes seemed a bit opaque. Norma's "Ah perche, perche..." found Sondra at her most marvelous, and together the two women achieved a truly sweet blend. The second verse of "Si, fino al'ora" included some appealing rubato effects. The audience showered the two singers with well-deserved cheers and applause.

Above: Sondra Radvanovsky as Norma in a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo

In the final scene, Norma still has so much to sing, and here Sondra pulled out all the stops and sealed her triumph in no uncertain terms. At first hopeful that Adalgisa might persuade Pollione to come back to the mother of his children (Sondra's spun-out ppp high-C at "...del primo amore"), such hopes are dashed: Adalgisa has been unsuccessful and Pollione has vowed kidnap his beloved from the Druid temple. Now Norma's wrath is unleashed: Roman blood shall flow in torrents -  a titanic Radvanovsky high-C at "...sangue Romano!" as her warriors emit a surprising, lusty war cry. Rizzi takes the "Guerra" chorus at breakneck speed, but includes the "dawn" ending with Sondra's floated final note. 

Pollione is captured and Norma is to interrogate him. He asks only for a swift death. But in the great duet "In mia man alfin tu sei" ("Your fate is in my hands...") she taunts him, threatening to kill his children and to reveal Adalgisa's deceit to the people: deceit punishable by death. Using chest voice to great effect, as well as bewitching softness at "Preghi alfin?", Sondra is simply at her peak here. Mr. Calleja's continuing sharpness was a distraction, though.

About to name Adalgisa as a traitor, Norma is gripped by her conscience - how can she accuse the girl of the same crime she herself has committed? When the people cry out for the name of the guilty person, Norma replies "Son io!" ("It is I!"): Sondra taking my breath away yet again. In "Qual core tradisti...", Pollione sees Norma for the noble, honest woman she is and repents his actions. They will die together at the stake. Sondra's remarkable piano singing in this ensemble, and her majestic top-B, can be added to the endless list of vocal jewels in her performance.

The end is reached: Norma and Pollione face the pyre together. Then Norma remembers her children: she knows they will be executed as Roman bastards. She confesses the fact of her motherhood to her father, Oroveso, who at first shuns her.  Then, in a final overwhelming plea, "Deh, non volerli vittime" ("Do not let them be the victims of my own misdeeds.."), Norma slowly wins her father over. From her piano first pleadings to the overwhelming power of her joy when Oroveso relents, Sondra transforms this passage into the crowning glory of her magnificent performance.

Above: Sondra Radvanovsky as Norma at The Met

Catch the curtain calls here.

~ Oberon

The Labèque Sisters|van Zweden|NY Philharmonic

Above: Katia and Marielle Labèque

Author: Oberon

Saturday September 23rd, 2017 - The first thing we noticed upon taking our seats at The New York Philharmonic this evening was that the seating arrangement for the orchestra had changed: risers are now in use. Hopefully this is a permanent enhancement, as it is so pleasing to be able to actually see people like Judith LeClair, Robert Langevin, Anthony McGill, and Liang Wang while they are playing. 

This week has marked the start of the Jaap van Zweden era at the Philharmonic, even though it's not until next season that the appendage "Designate" will be dropped from the title "Music Director".  The orchestra played superbly for the Maestro, and if the vociferous standing ovation that erupted the moment the Mahler 5th ended is any indication, the audience is embracing Mr. van Zweden in no uncertain terms.

The New York premiere of Philip Glass's Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra opened the program. The Labèque sisters, in fitted black trousers and be-spangled sweaters, were warmly greeted by the crowd; they have been top-rank musicians for a long time and they still look sensationally slender and attractive...and their playing retains its accustomed verve and grace.

Glass calls for a huge orchestra for this most recent of his creations; no fewer than seven percussionists take part, along with vast troupes of string, wind, and brass players. The concerto is in three movements and sets out from a jazzy opening that develops into a feeling of a giant hurdy-gurdy playing as a kozmic merry-go-round swirls madly. Pulsing waves of sound, in dense textures, wash over us.  From this turbulence, a lovely misterioso motif for the pianos emerges, with a gong struck softly as an undertone.

The pianists playing in their lower ranges open the second movement, with wooden clappers beating time. The trumpets and flutes join voices; at this point a cellphone went off in the audience but it merged into the musical texture. Rhythmic and textural variety sustain this central movement. The concerto concludes with a sort of adagio of somewhat darkish hues.

The new concerto is appealing in its way, but I can't say it's particularly distinctive or memorable. The pianos do not take the prominence one might expect in a concerto setting, but rather they are simply one constant voice in the overall chorus of instruments, given a few solo/duo passages along the way. I was hoping for an encore from the Labèque sisters, or possibly an appearance by Philip Glass, but after a couple of bows, the intermission commenced.

Above: Jaap van Zweden

Mahler's Fifth Symphony was composed during the summers of 1901 and 1902, during his annual holiday from his job as director of the Vienna Court Opera. It was in Vienna the winter prior to beginning his fifth symphony that Mahler had met Alma Schindler, the beautiful daughter of a famous landscape painter. Mahler proposed to her in the Autumn of 1901, and the symphony, with its journey from mourning thru the dreamworld of the Adagietto to happy triumph seems to mirror the composer’s state of mind with his new-found love.

The symphony's brilliant opening trumpet fanfare was excitingly introduced by Christopher Martin. As the first three movements of this very long symphony progressed, the Philharmonic players responded thrillingly to Maestro van Zweden's intense, almost daemonic vision of the score. In the beloved Adagietto, for strings and harp, the conductor's gentle pace and his summoning of luminous textures from the musicians created a depth of beauty in which we could - for a few minutes - forget the dark dangers of living in today's uncertain world. In the grandeur of the symphony's dazzling Rondo-Finale, the maestro and his musicians swept the celebratory feeling forward, pausing only for a couple of momentary roundabouts, and on to its epic conclusion. The audience went wild.

~ Oberon

New Chamber Ballet: From Bach to Beat

Above: Elizabeth Brown of New Chamber Ballet

Friday September 22nd, 2017 - Kicking off their 2017-2018 season, Miro Magloire's New Chamber Ballet offered an evening of five ballets choreographed by Miro to music by J S Bach, W A Mozart, Luciano Berio, Beat Furrer, and the choreographer himself. Pianist Melody Fader and violinist Doori Na performed these stylistically varied scores to perfection: their playing illuminated the evening in a very special way. Miro's five ballerinas - Sarah Atkins, Elizabeth Brown, Kristine Butler, Traci Finch, and Amber Neff - rose to every challenge the choreographer handed them, from brisk allegro combinations to extremes of partnering.

Miro has recently altered the seating configuration for his City Center Studio presentations: the audience now sit on all four borders of the performing space, with the piano in a permanent place at the far end of the hall. This worked exceptionally well. I chose a seat right next to the musicians which proved wonderfully congenial. 

The revival of Lace provided a stunning showcase for violinist Doori Na: his playing of Luciano Berio's Sequenza VIII was simply spine-tinglingly sensational. To revel in the exceptional clarity of Doori's playing - the music's fleet edginess, intensity, and wide dynamic range all captured to perfection - made for a perfect start to the evening. The choreography creates a sense of ritual as the three ballerinas - Sarah Atkins, Elizabeth Brown, and Traci Finch - seem to personify priestesses in the service of some ancient, long-forgotten goddess. Each dancer has solo passages while the other two sit or kneel, striking poses of reverence or ecstasy. The contrast between agitation and reverence creates an engrossing atmosphere.

Pianist Melody Fader brought a hypnotic, quiet radiance to the music of Beat Furrer for Voicelessness, a duet inspired by a poem of Sylvia Plath's and danced by Kristine Butler and Amber Neff. Melody's control of the music's piano/pianissimo gradations was so atmospheric. The two dancers moved with intense assurance thru some very demanding partnering sequences; in this and other recent ballets, Miro has created a new mode of same-sex partnering.

The revival of 104 Fahrenheit, to Magloire's own score, made me stop to think: have I seen any other  ballets choreographed by their composer before? I can't think of any. The ballet begins languidly, with Melody Fader again setting the mood with her refined playing. Traci Finch has the first solo passage: a danced agitato with cunning pauses. Kristine Butler's slower solo reflects the sense of stillness in the music. Skittering motifs from the piano signal Elizabeth Brown's space-filling solo, a vividly-danced montage of athleticism and repose in which the dancer's hands create their own visual poetry. Throughout, Melody Fader's inspired playing gave wing to the exceptional dancing.

The world premiere of a new duet to music from Johann Sebastian Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier has a simple working title for now: Bach. Commissioned by longtime friends of New Chamber Ballet, Leslie and Richard Curtis, the duet is lovely as it stands; but Miro already has plans to enlarge on it.

Wearing Sarah Thea's frothy pastel frocks, Amber Neff and Kristine Butler drew inspiration from Melody Fader's spot-on playing of the Bach prelude and fugue #14 in F-sharp minor. The two dancers move from joyous bounciness thru some stretchy give-and-take partnering, and lovely, ecstatic back-bends. It'll be interesting to see how Miro develops this piece, and whether additional dancers might be included.   

Amity is set to Mozart's violin sonata in C Major K.296, and what a wonderful performance of that piece we heard this evening from Melody Fader and Doori Na. Sitting so close to these music-makers, I could really feel their resonance - Doori's lower register had a nice contralto depth - while Melody's choice of tempos seemed perfect.

Above: Amity dress rehearsal image by Nir Arieli.

Wearing Sarah Thea's gossamer-gold costumes, dancers Sarah Atkins, Kristine Butler, Traci Finch, and Amber Neff affirmed the sense of joy in dancing to Mozart's music with airy grace. From time to time, Miro has them fall to the floor: an unexpected move that at first seemed accidental. These little touches occur frequently throughout Miro's choreography, and they keep things fresh.

Otakar Kraus as Alberich

Above: Otakar Kraus as Alberich

Baritone Otakar Kraus (1909–1980) was born at Prague; he later became a naturalized citizen of Great Britain. Kraus made his operatic début as Amonasro at Brno in 1935, and was a member of the Bratislava Opera from 1936 to 1939. At the outbreak of World war II, he moved to Britain and joined the touring Carl Rosa Company in 1940.

As a member of the English Opera Group in 1946, Otakar Kraus created the role of Tarquinius in Britten’s The Rape of Lucretia at Glyndebourne, and later sang the role of the Vicar in Albert Herring, and Lockit in Britten’s realization of The Beggar’s Opera. Kraus created the role of Nick Shadow in Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress at Venice in 1951. For the next 22 years, he was associated with the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden. There he sang most of the principal baritone parts in addition to creating Diomede in Walton’s Troilus and Cressida in 1954 and King Fisher in Tippett’s The Midsummer Marriage the following year. Otakar Kraus sang Alberich in the Ring Cycle at Bayreuth from 1960-1962.

Kraus retired from the stage in 1973 to teach. In that same year, he was made an Officer of the Order of the British Empire. His pupils have included Robert Lloyd CBE, Sir Willard White, and Sir John Tomlinson.

Otakar Kraus passed away in 1980. The Otakar Kraus Music Trust was founded in his honor.

Otakar Kraus - Bin ich nun frei ~ RHEINGOLD - Bayreuth 1960

Confrontation

The fictitious meeting of Elizabeth I (Pauline Tinsley) and Mary Stuart (Dame Janet Baker) from Donizetti's opera MARIA STUARDA, sung in English.

MARY STUART - Confrontation Scene - in English - Dame Janet Baker - Pauline Tinsley - ENO 1973

Upcoming: A New Season @ New Chamber Ballet

Above: dancers Amber Neff and Kristine Butler of New Chamber Ballet

Monday September 18th, 2017 - Today I stopped by at the Ballet Hispanico studios to visit some of my favorite people from the dance world: Miro Magloire and the ballerinas of his New Chamber Ballet. They are presently in rehearsal for the opening performances of their 2017-2018 season, which will take place on September 22nd and 23rd, 2017, at the City Center Studios. Tickets and more information about the performances here. 

The all-Magloire program for the opening performances features a new ballet commissioned by Richard and Leslie Curtis to music by J S Bach. The other composers represented will be Luciano Berio, Beat Furrer, and Miro Magloire. The dancers are Sarah Atkins, Elizabeth Brown, Kristine Butler, Traci Finch, and Amber Neff. In keeping with New Chamber Ballet's time-honoured tradition, all of the musical scores will be performed live by pianist Melody Fader and violinist Doori Na.

The overcast sky and a recalcitrant camera kept me from getting any really good images today, but here are some of Amber and Kristine rehearsing the new Bach piece and Voicelessness, the Beat Furrer ballet:

Kristine Butler is the newest member of New Chamber Ballet

John Osborn: A Tribute to Gilbert Duprez

Tenor John Osborn has released a new disc of operatic arias on the Delos label, and it's a beauty. While three of the four composers represented are Italian, all of the selections are sung in French. The operas from which the arias are culled were all associated with Gilbert Duprez (1806-1896), who has always been credited with inventing the "do di petto" (the high-C from the chest).

Mr. Osborn had an exciting success as Rodrigo di Dhu in Rossini's LA DONNA DEL LAGO at The Met in 2015; his singing on the night I saw it really perked up a pleasing but rather staid evening. The new Delos album shows the tenor's artistry to striking effect, and he receives admirable support from Maestro Constantine Orbelian, the Kaunas City Symphony, and - in Arnold's great scène from GUILLAUME TELL - the Kaunas State Chorus.

The disc begins with two arias from JERUSALEM, the adaptation of his 1843 opera I LOMBARDI that Verdi made for Paris in 1847. The first of these, "Je veux encore entendre ta voix", is a lilting melody so familiar in its Italian setting ("La mia letizia infondere"). The opera's hero Gaston, captured and imprisoned while on the Crusade, sings of his longing for his far-away beloved Hélène. The aria is a perfect introduction to Mr. Osborn's singing, which is graceful, poetic, and full of affecting colors. Dynamic control is this tenor's long suit, and his beautifully tapered phrases fall sublimely on the ear. Maestro Orbelian conspires with the singer to conjure up some lovely rubato effects, and the first Duprez-like foray to the top is really impressive. Mr. Osborn finishes off the aria with an easy ascent to a ringing high third before the final cadence. 

The second JERUSALEM selection is less well-known: "Ô mes amis, mes frères d'armes", in which Gaston, wrongly accused of murder, pleads with his comrades-in-arms to end his dishonored life. One again, Mr. Osborn shows a heartfelt mastery of mood, shading his singing with a sense of vulnerability. For all the drama of the situation, the tenor's vocalism is wonderfully fragrant, most especially at the phrase "Je pleure, hélas, comme une femme..."

The first of the disc's four Donizetti arias is next: the poignant "Ange si pur" from LA FAVORITE. Fernand, on the eve of his marriage to his beloved Leonor, learns that she has been the mistress of the king. He seeks refuge in a monastery where he recalls his brief happiness and laments the shattering of his dream. Mr. Osborn's rendering of this aria ranks with the best I have heard: imbuing his singing with such sweet sadness, the tenor astonishes with his ascent to the aria's treacherous high-C. A remarkable cadenza and the singer's spectacular mastery of the dynamic spectrum left me in a state of awe.

LES MARTYRS was Donizetti's French treatment of his opera POLIUTO, a story of Christian martyrdom which met with censorship just before its Italian premiere in 1838. Withdrawing from the fray, the composer moved to Paris and revised the opera specifically for Gilbert Duprez. In the aria "Oui, j'irai dans leur temple", the Christian leader Polyeucte vows to go to the Roman temple to fulfill a vow of faith, despite the promise of martyrdom. The aria is a statement of resolve and a call to action; with God's protection, Polyeucte will cast down the Roman idols. Mr. Osborn delivers it magnificently, reveling in the Duprez-inspired high notes and ending in thrilling fashion.

Inexplicably, I have never listened to Hector Berlioz's epic BENVENUTO CELLINI all the way thru; this makes no sense, as the composer's TROYENS, BEATRICE ET BENEDICT, La Captive, and the magical Les nuits d'été are among my all-time favorite works. In the two CELLINI arias which John Osborn includes on his disc are so cordially sung that my curiosity to hear the full opera is now piqued (though finding the time will be another matter...) 

"La gloire était ma seule idole" finds the sculptor Benvenuto Cellini anticipating the arrival of his beautiful mistress Teresa. This expressive aria begins over a delicate accompaniment but soon blooms into a paean to the artist's beloved. John Osborn brings a delicious feeling of tenderness to his singing here. The second verse is more extroverted, and ends with a prayer that heaven may protect Teresa, and protect their love. Here Mr. Osborn does some of his most affecting singing in an already-affecting program.

The second CELLINI aria, "Sur les monts, les plus sauvages" is this disc's 'secret treasure'. It begins with a very Berliozian introduction leading to a pensive recitative in which we can again savour John Osborn's gift for colour and verbal acuity. As the drama builds, Cellini rails against his destiny as an artist. When the aria proper begins, the sculptor longs for the life of a simple shepherd; herein, Mr. Osborn treats us to  beautifully sustained and reflective singing with a deliciously plaintive quality. The music becomes slightly more restless, and I am put in mind of Hylas's lovely aria of longing for his homeland: "Vallon sonore" from LES TROYENS. In the second verse of Cellini's aria, Mr. Osborn's vocal control is so impressive, and the music's rising passion brings us some superbly sustained notes and the singer's congenial flexing of his dynamic muscles. The aria's conclusion is superbly rendered.

From Donizetti's LUCIE DI LAMMERMOOR, we have Edgard's great final aria of lament for his ill-fated love for Lucie; here given in the "Duprez/French" setting as "Bientôt l’herbe des champs croîtra", the desolate young man awaits a duel with Lucie's brother among the graves of his forefathers. 

Though it may seem like an over-abundance of praise, I must again remark on Mr. Osborn's fascinating account of this very familiar scene, for he begins the opening recitative "Tombs of my ancestors..." in an incredibly hushed piano, and his sense of exquisite grief is palpable; his despair over his thwarted love draws us in deeply. A plangent swelling of the tone marks at the recitative conclusion marks Edgard's hapless expression of longing for death.

The aria proper is awash with heartbreak, the tenor's phrasing so persuasive, ravishing in its eloquence. The concluding cadenza is nothing less than fabulously passionate, yet Mr. Osborn then sinks the voice to a sustained delicacy before a final expression of hopelessness. Masterful!

In Donizetti's DOM SEBASTIEN, the title character is the king of Portugal. Following a devastating battle against the Moors, he stands alone on the battlefield, surrounded by the dead of both armies, and longs for the consoling sight of his beloved. With its atmospheric harp introduction, the aria is unusually lovely for it's sad setting. Mr. Osborn's phrasing is elegiac, and his meshing of the top note into the fabric of the melody is so skillfully handled. The cadenza here again left me in a state of true admiration for the singer.

The program concludes with the GUILLAUME TELL scene in which Arnold summons his courage - and that of his Swiss countrymen - to throw off the yoke of the cruel Austrian governor Gessler. Constantine Orbelian and his players set the scene in the melancholy introduction, and Mr. Osborn commences the recitative's "Do not abandon me, hope of revenge" with sublime softness. 

A GISELLE-like motif sets the aria proper - Asile héréditaire - on its way, with John Osborn's easy ascents to the high range impressively handled. The melody expands in breadth before a gentle reprise; the tenor's tender coloration of the phrase "...pour le derniere fois..." is yet another moment to savour. Then comes the fiery cabaletta, "Amis! Amis, secondez ma vengeance!", an irresistible call to arms which Mr. Osborn ends on a triumphantly sustained high-C.

To say that this new Delos offering pleased me greatly would be an under-statement. Perhaps the highest praise I can give is to say that the disc joins my long-time favorite tenor collections - Carlo Bergonzi's first Decca album and Luciano Pavarotti's all-Donizetti program - to form a triumvirate of tenor trophies which I will turn to often.        

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Gilbert Duprez (above), the tenor who inspired the new Delos disc, was born in Paris in 1806, studied there, and made his operatic debut at the Odéon in 1825. When his career failed to develop, he sought greener pastures in Italy and was most successful there in Bellini's IL PIRATA. In 1831, at Lucca, Duprez sang Arnold in the Italian-language premiere of Rossini's GUGLIELMO TELL and stunned the audience by introducing a high-C from the chest (as opposed to the falsetto approach to top notes which was then the custom). Thenceforth, the tenor's Italian career burgeoned, including the premiere of Donizetti's LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR in 1835.

Duprez returned in triumph to Paris in 1837 and became a great favorite of Parisian audiences. But by 1844, his voice was beginning to decline, and by 1851 he had stopped singing. It was thought that, despite his revolutionizing of a new sound to high notes, his overall technique was insufficiently grounded.

He lived on to the grand old age of 90.

Souvenir

~ Woman with Boa - Joan Barber - 1995

I bought this postcard in Provincetown many years ago, and I still love it.

Table of Silence ~ 2017

Above: vocal soloist Courtney Cook

Monday September 11th, 2017 - The seventh annual performance of Jacqulyn Buglisi's ritual of hope and peace, Table of Silence, was given on the Plaza at Lincoln Center this morning. Commemorating the 9/11 terrorist attacks, this astonishing work gathers together more than one hundred dancers and an ensemble of singers, flautists, and percussion players who perform an ethereal score conceived by Andrea Ceccomori (flutes) and Libby Larsen (vocals). 

This year, Table of Silence seemed more moving and more necessary than ever. A pall of darkness hangs over our daily lives as self-serving and often incoherent world leaders, deranged perpetrators of senseless violence, and a succession of natural catastrophes fill the headlines with presages of doom. Thus, we turn ever more fervently to music, dance, poetry, and art, both for solace and to inspire a hope that our common humanity may prevail.

Here are some images from this morning's uplifting and thought-provoking performance of Table of Silence: 

Percussionists at the ready

Dance Theatre of Harlem's Da'Von Doane on the right

Graham priestess Virginie Mécène summons the faithful

Vocalists Lydia Graham and Carla Lopez-Speziale

Lloyd Knight of the Martha Graham Dance Company

Courtney Cook

Graham diva and Associate Founder of Buglisi Dance Theatre: Terese Cappuccilli

Virginie Mécène signals the end of the rites

Virginie Mécène

More photos on Facebook: here.

"The 9/11 Table of Silence Project represents the common threads of humanity which unite all mankind into a single force with common goals and aspirations regardless of race, culture, or religion. Through this ritual, we celebrate compassion, and honor the bravery of all those affected by acts of war and suppression of freedom...a call for Peace in our world." ~ Jacqulyn Buglisi