Oberon's Grove

BSO Plays Gruber & Mahler @ Carnegie Hall

~ Author: Oberon

Monday November 19th, 2018 - The Boston Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall, under the baton of BSO music director Andris Nelsons, offering a program combining HK Gruber's trumpet concerto Aerial with the  5th symphony of Gustav Mahler.

Perhaps the link between the Gruber and the Mahler is a musical motif of octave drops that can be heard in both works (and also, by the way, in Strauss's FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN); during their onstage pre-concert warm-up, the BSO players sounded this downward-plunging theme several times. It appeared a few minutes later in the opening section of the Gruber concerto. This note progression lingered in my mind throughout the evening, making me wish more than anything to see FRAU onstage at The Met again.

The concert started late and seemed endless. The Gruber, which is twenty years old, is a virtuoso showcase of sorts for trumpeter Håkan Hardenberger. It's one of those clever but ultimately tiresome concertos wherein a composer decides to give a soloist endless opportunities to make various noises beyond the normal scope of whatever instrument is being featured. I've heard similar works for clarinet and flute, though I can't remember who wrote or played them.

Following an ethereal start from the orchestra, the trumpet commences on those downward plunges; they overstay their welcome. The sound of the vibraphone is a momentary, pleasing distraction. The trumpeter plays slurred, sloppy passages; his instrument sputters and whines. As the music progress, influences of various composers from various genres are detected. Switching to the cow-horn, Mr. Hardenberger summons different sounds. Then there's some coloratura on a muted trumpet, before the music gets big and rocks away.

The work ends, after 25 minutes, with the trumpeter walking over to the grand piano and playing a sustained note into it. During this, the sound of Carnegie staff members talking in the lobby intruded.

The applause was long, but without excitement; the bows were dutiful rather than celebratory. A long intermission commenced, during which we thought of leaving: the Gruber had put us in a bad mood.

Normally the Mahler 5th would have served as an ideal antidote to the pretense and - frankly - boredom of the opening work. Part I of the 5th, with its vivid calls from the trumpet, unfolded to grand effect with marvelous playing from the BSO. In the Scherzo, things seemed to be going awry, and I began to feel uncharacteristically restless: I lost patience with Mahler's little detours and by-ways. The sublime Adagietto seemed unreasonably slow; my Mahler-loving companion felt that Maestro Nelsons had fallen asleep at the wheel, lulled by so much beauty from his players. Our spirits were somewhat revived by the finale, but overall it was not the Mahler experience we'd hoped for, and we agreed that the Gruber had soured the evening for us.

Harkening back to my wish for FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, the Met's Peter Gelb was in the audience at Carnegie Hall tonight. Dmitry and I see him there - and also at the NY Phil - frequently. Dmitry says he thinks Gelb wanders the aisles during intermissions, hoping to be recognized. 

~ Oberon

Death and the Maiden @ CMS

Above: the Schumann Quartet

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday November 18th, 2018 - Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center presenting a program of  (mainly) works associated with the theme of death. 

Sergei Rachmaninov's Two Movements for String Quartet (1889) seems to be all that has come down to us in the genre of quartet writing from the Russian master. He was all of seventeen years old when he wrote this Romance and Scherzo, and hearing this music today, so luminously played by the Schumann Quartet, made me wish he had not only finished this early effort, but gone on writing quartets and a lot more chamber music throughout his life. 

With the luscious blend that is a trademark of the Schumann Quartet, this music is an ideal way for them to open a concert: in fact, it might have been written just for them. The tender melancholy of the Romance: Andante espressivo is set forth by violinist Erik Schumann and is sustained by the viola (Liisa randalu) and cello (Mark Schumann). The mood lightens a bit, with a lovely flow of melody. The violin takes up a light theme, supported by his plucking colleagues. The cello then sings intensely over the tremolo motifs of the other players.

The Scherzo has the air of a country dance: animated, with pizzicati underpinnings; then the cello is heard in a waltz-like passage. The music breezes along to a very subtle ending.

Baritone Nikolay Borchev (above) and pianist Wu Qian gave an emotion-ladened performance of Modest Mussorgsky's Pesni i plyaski smerti ("Songs and Dances of Death"). The four songs, written between 1875-1877, are settings of poems by Count Arseny Golenishchev-Kutuzov; each is a vignette on the subject of death.

In Lullabye, a distraught mother watches over her feverish child; death comes in the form of a nanny, to rock the infant asleep forever. Death sings to a dying woman from outside her window in Serenade, while in Trepak, a drunken peasant stumbling thru in a blizzard dances with Death before collapsing. In The Field Marshall, a commander sees visions of his dead soldiers parading before him.

Mr. Borchev's voice has wonderful immediacy; it is a hall-filling sound that never seems forced. Instead, he seems to be singing directly to each listener on a personal level. Wu Qian was a perfect collaborator in every way.

The piano's mysterious tread sets the mood for Lullabye: the singer's somber expressiveness become increasingly agitated as anxiety and calm compete. The song ends suddenly. Lyrical yearning and rising passion fill Serenade, a rhythmic song that becomes dirge-like, leading us to Mr. Borchev's robust final note. Trepak starts as a lament with a turbulent undercurrent. The piano takes up the dancelike motif, the music becoming quite dramatic. The pianist tries to restart the dance, but the peasant sings on, oblivious. Wu Qian's piano postlude, the energy of the dance petering out as the peasant slips into eternal sleep, was obscured by the sound of everyone in the hall turning the page of their text leaflet at the same time. 

The concluding The Field Marshall has a grand, dramatic start; the singing turns more reflective, and very soft, only to re-group for a final epic burst. Mr. Borchev sometimes veered slightly sharp in moments of high drama, and the song's highest notes were a bit of a stretch for him, but he swept onward, undeterred, winning an enthusiastic reception from the attentive crowd. My Russian companion for the evening praised Mr. Borchev's diction.    

Above: pianist Wu Qian

Following the interval, the program was given over to Franz Schubert's Der Tod und das Mädchen ("Death and the Maiden"), first in its song setting for voice and piano, D. 531 (1817) and then as the beloved Quartet in D-minor for Strings, D. 810 (1824).

Mr. Borchev's singing of the Schubert lied was handsome indeed...but: it's so short. Surely we could have had a couple more of the composer's songs to make a set. There are plenty of choices from among Schubert's ouevre that would have suited tonight's theme, and given us more opportunity to enjoy the baritone's soul-embracing timbre, and Wu Qian's poetic playing.

The Schumann Quartet then returned to the stage for a perfectly polished and deeply-felt rendering of Schubert's iconic Der Tod und das Mädchen. Is this the most beautiful and poignant string quartet ever written? It surely seemed that way this evening.

From its vibrant start, the opening Allegro drew vivid, colourful playing from the Schumanns. The music soon settles into a chorale-like calm, sublimely harmonized, until an increase in restlessness carries us to a pulsing lyrical song. Passion and drama flare up, with the players expertise in matters of dynamic modulation keeping everything remarkably clear and alive.

Playing of miraculous beauty filled the ensuing Andante con moto, which introduces the doleful "Death" theme, echoing the opening piano introduction of song that Wu Qian had played earlier. Harmonies tear at the heart; the violin, on high, is played with great subtlety.  Schubert weaves five variations on the theme. This is music filled with longing, with the solo violin ravishing, the depth of sound from the cello giving a spiritual resonance. An increase in energy, with the highly-nuanced violin aligned to the pulsing cello, sets up a great rise of passion. Calm is restored, settling in to a gorgeous, lingering ending.

The Scherzo is quite brief; we don't know if Wagner intentionally lifted one rhythmic motif here to be an emblem of Nibelheim in his opera DAS RHEINGOLD, but it certainly gave me a smile this evening. A gentle interlude, short and sweet, before the Scherzo marches on.

Dazzling playing from the three Schumann brothers and the marvelous Ms. Randalu made the concluding Presto an thoroughly impressive musical experience. In the end, Death is merciless; the music is relentlessly spurred on its sudden conclusion.

~ Oberon

Decoda @ Weill Hall

Above: composer Valerie Coleman

~ Author: Brad S Ross

Wednesday November 14th, 2018 - This a night of much sublime music and some irritating gimmickry in the Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall.  The New York City-based chamber ensemble Decoda was performing “Revelers” — a mostly positive mixed bag of a program.  Decoda, as the program rightly boasted, comprises “some of the brightest young classical musicians in the world” and is the first ever affiliate ensemble of Carnegie Hall.  All players indeed shined brightly in a night of great music—music that was also partially sullied by some unfortunate (and mostly avoidable) distractions.

The evening began on the lively "Scherzo" (movement V) from Johannes Brahms Serenade No. 1 in D major from 1858.  Written during the composer’s early period, the nonet already demonstrates a mature sense of form and color—a small foretaste of the works to come.  While I’m not usually partial to movements being excised from larger works in this manner, its elegant composition and crisp performance made a welcoming introduction to the night’s the program.

Next up was Dance Preludes for nonet by the great 20th century composer Witold Lutosławski (above). Written during the grim political unrest following World War II in the composer’s native Poland, the piece derives loving influence from the folk music of his war torn homeland.  Cast in five movements, it includes a mischievous "Allegro molto", a mysterious and expansive" Andantino", a vibrant "Allegro giocoso", an unsettling "Andante", and a vivacious concluding "Allegro molto".  Played with exception by the Decoda ensemble, it’s easy to see why this has become one of Lutosławski’s more popular works.

Richard Strauss’s Till Eulenspiegel einmal anders!, arranged by the Austrian composer Franz Hasenöhrl, followed.  Inspired by the great prankster of German literature, Strauss’s original Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche was written large orchestra.  However, in this arrangement, which was cheekily re-titled “enimal anders!” or “differently, for once,” the music is skillfully reduced a mere quintet of winds and strings.  Its rhythms were plucky and humorous, as befitting its subject matter, and the whole affair came off with whimsy and charming theatricality in its ten-minute length.

Next was one of the headline events of the evening; the world premiere of Valerie Coleman's Revelry.  Coleman, a celebrated American flutist and composer, could already claim to be riding high after the phenomenal world premiere of her concerto for wind quintet Phenomenal Women with the Imani Winds at Carnegie Hall earlier this month.  Apparently discontented with the thought of producing just one great new work this November, she and Carnegie Hall (which has commissioned both works) decided to give us a second for good measure.  How spoiled we are!

A humorous pre-performance talk informed that Revelry was inspired by contrasting the kinds of revelry that occur when large groups gather, particularly when the consumption of alcohol is involved.  Cast in two movements played without pause, “Mysterio” and “War,” the piece has a duration of approximately fifteen minutes and is scored for flute, clarinet, bassoon, violin, viola, cello, and piano.  It opens on menacing dissonances in the middle and lower registers —i ndeed, “menacing” is a word that could apply the mood of the entire piece.  Numerous glissandi in the strings, fiercely offbeat passages for the violin and viola, unsettling drives by the bassoon, violent outbursts from the flute and piano, and numerous other colorful touches further demonstrated Coleman’s mastery of her craft.  A full ensemble rush with several dissonant jabs followed by a monstrous, but tightly controlled cacophony announced its volatile conclusion.  It was an exciting conclusion to another exciting world premiere by Coleman.

Above: composer Guillaume Connesson

Guillaume Connesson’s Techno-Parade for clarinet, flute, and piano was next.  Composed in 2002, this fiercely contemporary trio featured a driving, almost unrelenting piano line that emulated the popular beats of electronic dance music.  Dissonant and quite offbeat melodies in the clarinet and flute added a rich texture to the work, harkening to the jazzy tunes of Herbie Hancock or the film scores of Harold Faltermeyer.  Though Techno-Parade was noisy and exciting, it thankfully didn’t outstay the welcome of its rather limited musical idea.  The audience lit up afterward, indicating that the piece will surely have a long life in the contemporary chamber repertoire.

Following intermission was the "Rondo" from from Brahms’s Serenade.  Once again, I see no need for concert programs to divide larger works like this—works that are meant to be heard in full and in order.  However, the lush and stately "Rondo", brief as it was, made for an easy warm up for the next big event on the program.

Above: composer Brad Balliett

That event was the New York premiere of Brad Balliett's Reveler-Scherzos, the second piece from which the concert derived its name.  Composed in either 2014 or 2015 (depending on whether we are to take the composer’s or the program’s word for it) for oboe, clarinet, bassoon, and horn, the piece also features a distracting set of images by the artist Will Storie, which were projected, inescapably, on a large screen placed behind the performers.  Though the music itself was ripe with individuality and memorable textures, the audience seemed to be more interested in Storie’s cheeky and it rather juvenile doodles; it had me wondering just how much attention was being paid to the music at all.  There’s a discussion to be had about the usefulness of visual aids in classic music, but they should at least be utilized in service of the music and not vice versa.  Storie’s art, I’m sorry to say, was just an annoyance.

The evening concluded on Francis Poulenc’s Sextet for Piano and Winds from 1932.  At roughly eighteen minutes, this was handily the largest item on the program and its more-traditional harmonics made for a comforting and familiar way to sing the audience out.  Divided into three movements, it consists of an upbeat "Allegro vivace", a warm "Divertissement: Andantino", and a somber and lyrical "Finale: Prestissimo".  Essentially French in its musical style, the work also features touches of ragtime, jazz, and even a subtle comedic nod in the ""Andantino to the slow movements of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.  Its quiet finale produced the robust applause it deserved as the audience departed for the night.

One small drawback to Wednesday night’s concert, however, was the audience, who were somewhat more disruptive than normal.  Applauding between movements may be forgiven (if forgiveness even needs granting), but late arrivals, premature departures, and general noisiness during performance go beyond wearisome at a certain point. 

A marketing gimmick of this particular concert encouraged audience members to tweet about their “most memorable moment of revelry.”  A pre-concert request to reserve this tweeting for intermission and after the program concluded did nothing to deter smartphone use during the performance, however, and the Weill Recital Hall was more than once blessed with the sound of them being dropped on the floor as their operators fumbled to use them discreetly in the dark.  More than enough concerts are interrupted by cellphones as it is.  Hopefully Decoda and Carnegie Hall will find less distracting ways to promote their events in the future.

~ Brad S Ross

Kaija Saariaho's ONLY THE SOUND REMAINS

Above: Philippe Jaroussky and Davóne Tines in Kaija Saariaho's Only The Sound Remains; photo by Ruth Walz

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Saturday November 17th, 2018 - Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho newest opera, and the latest collaboration with director Peter Sellars, arrived at the Rose Theater of Lincoln Center for its US premiere performances. Only The Sound Remains is an adaptation of Ezra Pound’s translations of two unrelated Japanese Noh plays. The somber play Tsunemasa became Part I, titled “Always Strong.” And the slightly  more whimsical Hagoromo became Part II, titled “Feather Mantle.”

Both operas are written for a countertenor and bass-baritone, a 4-part vocal ensemble (performing from the orchestra pit), and an instrumental ensemble of 7 musicians. The music is meant to be amplified and electronically processed. This is mostly discreetly done: occasionally a sound traveled to a speaker in the back of the theater, creating a surround-sound effect. Or, more noticeably, a singer’s voice was turned into a hazy shimmer. These things were always done in the service of either the story or Saariaho’s musical conception of the work. 

Like much of Saariaho’s music, Only The Sound Remains is filled with extraordinary aural textures. There are no melodies to hum and it never matters. Saariaho is a master at creating a magical sound landscape. In this score she writes extensively for the kantele, a Finnish variation on the zither, which creates an unusual and exotic bell/chimes sound. The 4-person vocal ensemble, Theatre of Voices, frequently doubles the singers on stage or whispers and hisses, creating an eerie atmosphere filled with ghosts, a Noh staple.

In Part I - “Always Strong,” - bass-baritone Davóne Tines is a Monk praying over the dead body of Tsunemasa, a famed lute player, who died in the battle of the Western Seas. Tsunemasa’s unhappy ghost - sung by countertenor Philippe Jaroussky - comes to the Monk to lament his fate. In Part II - “Feather Mantle” - the fisherman Hakuryo (Tines) takes a feather robe off a tree branch, not realizing he is stealing the robe from a Moon Spirit (sung by Jaroussky and danced by Nora Kimball-Mentzos) and she is unable to return to heaven without her robe.  The Fisherman agrees to return the robe to the Spirit if she dances for him: she agrees and with her robe once again in her possession, she vanishes beyond the peak of Mount Fuji.

Saariaho’s thoughtful, mystical music for “Always Strong” and a somewhat more rustic and varied score for “Feather Mantle” are ravishing and her writing for the two singers is gorgeous. Jaroussky was in terrific voice, with rich low notes and seamless transitions to the highest. Saariaho originally intended the Moon Spirit to be sung by a soprano, but Jaroussky convinced her write it for him without fearing the high tessitura. The countertenor’s control of his beautiful instrument was admirable throughout the night. The dancing by Nora Kimball-Mentzos, using her own choreography, was wonderfully evocative. She beautifully expressed the Spirit’s fear for the safety of her robe and desperation to claim it back. But the real star of the evening was the bass-baritone Davóne Tines. A wonderfully physical actor he also posses a beautiful voice, strong and virile, with an easy bottom and effortless top. His total commitment to the words and music was admirable. Mr. Jaroussky could occasionally be a little distant - perhaps not entirely inappropriate for a ghost - whereas Tines, as the mortal in each Part, was the reliable center of gravity.

Peter Sellars created a moody and lovingly staged production, set against simple backdrops (designed by Julie Mehretu), with wonderful lighting effects designed by James F. Ingalls. Shadows grow and shrink, sometimes seemingly taking on a life of their own, separate from the singers. For a work as dramatically and musically static as Only The Sound Remains, Sellars, his production team, the singers and conductor Ernest Martínez Izquierdo managed to create enough momentum so that the performance itself never became static. But the opera did last perhaps 15 minutes longer than it should have. By the time the Fisherman has surrendered the robe back to the Spirit the opera feels like it should end, except Ms. Saariaho kept it going for some time. If the audience felt my reservations about the finale, they did not show it. A massive standing ovation greeted the cast and Ms. Saariaho herself, as well as the entire production team led by Mr. Sellars.

~ Ben Weaver

Honeck|Zimmermann @ NY Phil

~ Author: Scoresby

Above: Conductor Manfred Honeck; Photo Credit: Felix Broede

Friday November 16 2018 – It is always an occasion when Manfred Honeck comes into town to conduct the New York Philharmonic. He always has a knack with making the orchestra seem more lively than usual, the players seem to want to play well for him. Thus, when he is hear it is always worth seeking out his performances, even with an unusual program like this one. After Thursday’s snowy mess, it was nice to see a near full house for this program.

The first half of the program began with Dvorak: Carnival Overture, Op. 92. This is a great piece to show off the orchestra before a performance and connected to the other Czech work in the first half of the program. Mr. Honeck built up the contrasts in this work – thus the raucous opening sounded extra jubilant and loud with the percussion/brass really giving their all. The cellos gave a deep sound in their slight cannon after the big introduction with the higher strings being light and clear through the passionate Czech melody. The bassoons and flutes doubling this theme managed to create an unusually woody timbre while still having the lyricism of this section.

The highlight of the piece was during the love duet between English Hornist Grace Shyrock and Principal Flutist Robert Langevin. Ms. Shyrock and Mr. Legevin pushed and pulled the wistful melodies back and forth before finally coming together. Mr. Honeck then built a simmering excitement in the strings before the final exuberant outburst of the Overture. The play of dynamics and melody led for an exciting reading.

The next work on the program was Martinu: Concerto No. 1 for Violin and Orchestra. Frank Peter Zimmermann joined the orchestra for stellar performance. Martinu, while somewhat played today, is one of the many great overlooked Czech composers of the 20^th century (only Janacek seems to have escaped this trend). He had an enormous output, only a handful of those pieces are still played today. I had never heard of the first violin concerto, which is much less famous than the second. Apparently the score was only found after Martinu’s death and was championed by Josef Suk (see above for the recording).

The opening movement is a tour-de-force for the violin with some extremely difficult double, triple, and quadruple stops layered in the folksy sounding music, though you would never know it with the clean sound Mr. Zimmermann had. Martinu makes wonderful use of his orchestration which sounds like Janacek’s large woodwind section was blended with a Stravinsky-esque clarity. Martinu uses a lot of syncopation and jazzy riffs through the first movement which Mr. Honeck managed to emphasize. Instead of creating a unified line, both Mr. Zimermann and Mr. Honeck seemed more content in pointing out the contrast between the many small cells of thematic material littered through the movement. After a long section of development, a beautiful folk melody appears in the violin. Mr. Zimmermann used a sweet sound here in a duet with principal cellist Carter Brey. Their blend of sound was wonderful.

The second movement is the most accessible, sounding more overtly folksy. It began with Mr. Honeck drawing a strong sound for the opening chords from the orchestra. Here though, it is the inventive wind choir that Martinu orchestrates which really shines in its accompaniment of the violin. The winds sounded sour, Strainvsky-like while meandering in fourths. It was an exciting effect that piqued a few listeners attention. While Mr. Zimmerman’s sound was clean and robust, the various wind solos building their giant fourths really shined. Eventually this builds into the exciting final movement without a break between the two. While wild and fun, this movement to me felt like it didn’t have much continuity just a broken set of themes tacked together. 

Above: Violinist Frank Peter Zimmermann; Photo Credit: Unknown

Each one had its own individual fun and the performers did a good job of letting each of their character’s shine, but I had trouble understanding why those sections were grafted together. Nonetheless ranging from the toccata-like virtuosic section with Mr. Zimmermann playing like a rock musician while accompanied by a snare drum to the lyrical folksy section evoking the second movement it was a fantastic performance. All the while Mr. Honeck drew a snappy accompaniment from the orchestra. The solo cadenzas Mr. Zimmermann took at a dizzying pace all with that same shiny sound – in a way I wish he had a dirtier sound in some of these passages that were unnaturally clean. But this was virtuosity at its finest and the crowd gave Mr. Zimmermann a well-deserved ovation. While enjoyable to hear, I am a bit surprised with the many under-performed Martinu masterpieces this was the work that was chosen. After intermission were some lovely looking Strauss waltzes, but I unfortunately had to leave after feeling under the weather. I’m glad to have heard a fun program from Mr. Honeck and Mr. Zimmermann and look forward to hearing them again soon.

-- Scoresby

Sondra Radvanovsky as Tosca @ The Met

Above: Sondra Radvanovsky as Tosca

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday November 17th, 2018 - In an age when few voices can truly be called distinctive, Sondra Radvanovsky's performances are always red-letter dates on my calendar. Like all the greatest divas down thru the centuries, Sondra's voice is not to all tastes: she has her enthusiastic admirers and her detractors. Through it all, she moves from opera house to opera house, garnering big ovations, and making my continued devotion to the art form worthwhile.

This afternoon, my fellow "Rad-Fan", Craig Salstein and I settled into a balcony box to watch our prima donna playing a prima donna - Floria Tosca - in an opera once described as a 'shabby little shocker'. TOSCA hardly shocks us nowadays, inured as we are to genuine, disturbing shocks in the daily headlines. But it can still be an absorbing story to watch unfold in The Met's traditional and mostly attractive production.

It's a production designed for patrons sitting in the middle of the house. If you like a side box, you lose sight of 1/3 of the action. In Act I, for instance, you can either forego the sight of Cavaradossi's painting of Mary Magdalene, or you can miss the religious procession that closes Act I (during which the Marchesa D'Attavanti makes an unexpected appearance). We chose house-right, the better to savour Sondra's "Vissi d'arte".

All afternoon, people around us chatted blithely throughout the show; two women in the box below us simply had to discuss something during the tenor's "Vittoria!" And there was a round of laughter after each line of the lovers' Act I banter about the eye colour of Mary Magdalene. It's not all that funny, really.

Carlo Rizzi was on the podium. A routinier, Rizzi was absent from the Met from 2007 to 2016, and as far as I know, no one missed him. The orchestra played superbly today - it's still basically "Levine's orchestra" - but Rizzi's taffy-pull tempi, and occasional covering of the singers didn't do Puccini any favors. 

Brenton Ryan was a clear-toned, incisive Spoletta; a bouquet was thrown to him over the footlights during the curtain calls - and he charmingly retrieved it. Oren Gradus was strong of voice as Angelotti, and Patrick Carfizzi really sings the Sacristan's music, with a robust bass-baritone (though I could do without his muttering remarks during his entrance music....the director's idea, I suppose...)

A very tall, slender Italian baritone named Claudio Sgura took over most of the Scarpias this season when Wolfgang Koch withdrew from the role. Mr. Sgura was severely over-parted in the Big House during most of Act I. In Act II, once he and Ms. Radvanovsky were left alone onstage, things improved and the atmosphere was ramped up as their cat-and-mouse game developed. But even so, Mr. Sgura's voice doesn't really seem to be of Met quality. 

In past seasons, Joseph Calleja has done some outstanding singing in such essentially lyrical roles as the Duke in RIGOLETTO, Rodolfo in BOHEME, Nemorino in ELISIR, and Gabriele Adorno in SIMON BOCCANEGRA. He is moving into heavier repertory now (Don Jose, Rodolfo in LUISA MILLER, and Pollione), and today as Mario Cavaradossi he often sounded at full-stretch. There are still many attractive elements in his singing - the soft, sustained final note of "Recondita armonia" and some heavenly, heady piano singing in Act III - but we're used to more bloom on the top - and more heft in general - in this music.

In such surroundings, it would take an epic performance of the title-role to make the afternoon worthwhile. And that's what Ms. Radvanovsky gave us. 

With her blazing high notes, her marvelously modulated dynamics - down to a thread of tone - and her passionate commitment to the music, Ms. Radvanovsky's vocalism was so generous and thrilling; from first note to last, she carried the opera to the heights.

While her choice to sing lines like "Tu non l'avrai stasera...giuro!" and "Assassino!" in a high-pitched sort of shriek makes them irritating rather than chilling, Sondra's dark, chesty resonance at "E Morto ! Or gli perdono!" was much, much more to my liking. At the other end of the range, her uncannily sustained high-C as her lover is dragged off to his fate in Act II was thrillingly connected to her ensuing cries of "Mario! Mario!!"

What I will always remember about this performance is Sondra's singing of the "Vissi d'arte" which was the greatest rendering of that thrice-familiar aria in my experience. Over the decades, I've heard this iconic piece sung - on recordings and in live performances - by everyone from Giannina Arangi-Lombardi to Anna Netrebko. Today I heard it phrased the way I've always wished to hear it, the singing emotion-drenched but utterly musical. A hall-filling, rapturous high B-flat and a gorgeously sustained finish left me deeply moved and gratified. Craig said his heart was racing.

Metropolitan Opera House
November 17th, 2018 matinee

TOSCA
Giacomo Puccini

Tosca...................Sondra Radvanovsky
Cavaradossi.............Joseph Calleja
Scarpia.................Claudio Sgura
Sacristan...............Patrick Carfizzi
Spoletta................Brenton Ryan
Angelotti...............Oren Gradus
Sciarrone...............Christopher Job
Shepherd................Davida Dayle
Jailer..................Paul Corona

Conductor...............Carlo Rizzi

~ Oberon

Claudia Schreier ~ ABT Studio Company

Above: dancer Chloe Misseldine of the ABT Studio Company; photo by Nir Arieli

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday November 14th, 2018 - Choreographer Claudia Schreier is creating a new ballet for the ABT Studio Company. Entitled NEON, it's set to music by Marc Mellits, and it will be shown this weekend up at Kaatsbaan.

Photographer Nir Arieli and I stopped in at the ABT Studios today, where the Studio Company's Artistic Director, Sascha Radetsky, was overseeing his young dancers in a run-thru of Claudia's ballet.

Here are some of Nir's images from the afternoon:

Claudia Schreier with dancer Joseph Markey

Mr. Markey in the air

Joseph Markey, Kanon Kimura, and Claudia Schreier

Ms. Misseldine, Duncan McIlwaine

The ensemble

Andrew Robare, Grace Anne Pierce

Duncan McIlwaine

Duncan McIlwaine, Thomas Brun

Thomas Brun, Grace Anne Pierce, Leah Baylin

Leah Baylin, Andrew Robare

Kanon Kimura, Joseph Markey

All photos by Nir Arieli

~ Oberon

Martha's Men @ Martha Graham

Above: Alessio Crognale in Martha Graham's SECULAR GAMES, with Lloyd Mayor, Lloyd Knight, Lorenzo Pagano, and Ben Schultz. Photo by Melissa Sherwood.

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday November 14th, 2018 - As part of their excellent GrahamDecontructed series, the Martha Graham Dance Company tonight held a studio event entitled Martha's Men, in which the men of the Graham Company were featured. And what men they are: Ben Schultz, Lorenzo Pagano, Lloyd Knight, Lloyd Mayor, Alessio Crognale, and Jacob Larsen.

As the audience members settled in, an archival film of an excerpt of Graham's EVERY SOUL A CIRCUS gave us a glimpse of Martha with two of her pioneering male dancers: Erick Hawkins and Merce Cunningham. Later, a video interview with Robert Cohan was shown, and it proved very moving. Brooklyn-born, Cohan danced with the Graham Company from 1946 to 1969, with a couple of breaks. He left to found the London Contemporary Dance Group. I discovered that this interview is now on YouTube.

Artistic director Janet Eilber welcomed us, and spoke of the history of male dancers in the Graham Company, which for the first several years of its life was an all-female troupe.

In 1939, Erick Hawkins (above, in EL PENITENTE) was the first man to join Martha Graham's company; he married her in 1948, left the Company in 1951, and the couple divorced in 1954. Graham created roles in several of her ballets for Hawkins, starting with APPALACHIAN SPRING.

The danced portion of this evening's studio event - beautifully lit - opened with a compelling performance of a solo from EL PENITENTE by Lorenzo Pagano. Set to a score by longtime Graham collaborator Louis Horst, this 1940 ballet envisions a troupe of strolling players who present a theatrical representation of the religious rituals of the Penitente movement in the American Southwest.

In a solo of self-flagellation, Lorenzo Pagano (above, photo by Melissa Sherwood) danced with searing commitment, developing a realistic portrait of the character with such passion that actually caused red marks to appear on his back. 

Excerpts from three of Martha Graham's "Greek" ballets came next.

Lloyd Knight and Charlotte Landreau danced an unwittingly incestuous duet from NIGHT JOURNEY, in which Oedipus and Jocasta form a bond that will lead to desolate tragedy. The music is by William Schuman. Lloyd Knight's alluring Oedipus makes Jocasta's heedless capitulation easily believable, while Charlotte Landreau in the stylized movements of the queen was a classic vision of feminine poise, soon to be brought down by fate. 

Ben Schultz (above, photographed by Melissa Sherwood) danced the athletic solo of Jason from CAVE OF THE HEART, Graham's take on the Medea legend. Dancing to music by William Schuman, Ben was a figure of towering masculine self-assurance, his iconic tattoos in full flourish.

Completing the Greek-themed triptych, a stunning scene from ERRAND INTO THE MAZE was performed by Ms. Landreau and Lloyd Mayor, seen above in Melissa Sherwood's photo. Though inspired by the story of Theseus, it is a woman that Martha Graham sends into the maze; there, she confronts her deepest fears, embodied by the mysterious Minotaur.

Lloyd Mayor, masked by a translucent caul, was creepily daemonic as he ruthlessly stalked his virginal prey. Ms. Landreau made a breathtaking impression in her solo, which was spectacularly danced. ERRAND INTO THE MAZE premiered in 1947; it is set to music by Gian Carlo Menotti. 

Leaping ahead over the decades, we find ourselves in Pontus Lidberg's WOODLAND, a 2016 creation set to a score by Irving Fine. Two couples appear in this double-duet: Ms. Landreau with Mr. Schultz, and Jacob Larsen with Mr. Pagano. The same-sex pairing are on the same footing as the male/female couple, and no one bats an eyelash; we're in the 21st century, after all. The piece was handsomely danced, making me regret having missed it when it premiered. Perhaps there will be another chance. 

The program ended with a sneak-preview of SECULAR GAMES, a 1962 Graham ballet to music by Robert Starer that the Company are currently rehearsing for a revival. In a scene entitled Play with thought - on a Socratic Island, the six shirtless men - Ben Schultz, Lorenzo Pagano, Lloyd Knight, Lloyd Mayor, Alessio Crognale, and Jacob Larsen - toss a bright, silvery ball about.

Our curiosity more than piqued, we look forward to seeing what else SECULAR GAMES brings us when the  Martha Graham Dance Company have their season at The Joyce: April 2nd thru 14th, 2019.

Although tonight's program was entitled Martha's Men, I can't resist adding a solo portrait of Charlotte Landreau, from NY Dance Project, above. I'm sure none of the gentlemen will object.

~ Oberon

DiDonato/Nézet-Séguin/Philadelphia Orchestra

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday November 13th, 2018 - Mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato joined The Philadelphia Orchestra this evening at Carnegie Hall, performing Ernest Chausson's lush and haunting Poème de l'amour et de la mer; masterworks by Wagner and Respighi were on the bill, as well as a New York premiere from composer Mason Bates. Yannick Nézet-Séguin was on the podium. It was a concert filled with attractions, but overall it didn't quite gel.

Starved as we are for Wagner these days, hearing the prelude to LOHENGRIN tonight was a godsend. It's been twelve years since this opera's been performed at The Met. And it's in the opera house that this score - and most especially its prelude - is best experienced. The idea of playing this music as the opening work in a symphony-concert setting seems wonderful in theory, but in practice it works less well. In a lighted concert hall, the audience is still settling in, with attendant coughing and rustling, whereas a darkened opera house has a quieting effect on the crowd, so that the sound of the ethereal, high, hushed strings steals directly into the soul.

Tonight the Philadelphia players did not quite attain the pure, gossamer quality of the music's first, hesitant measures; and Maestro Nézet-Séguin's pacing was just a shade too fast for the music to make its finest effect. As things became more expansive, the orchestra sounded magnificent. But my mind strayed back to The Met, where I heard such conductors as Karl Böhm, Berislav Klobučar, Philippe Auguin, and - most memorably - James Levine give this music a mystical glow.

I first heard the music of Mason Bates when tenor Will Ferguson programmed the then-fledgling composer's  cycle Songs From The Plays at his Juilliard recitals. This evening, some fifteen years on, Bates' Anthology of Fantastic Zoology was given its New York premiere. This 30-minute work was commissioned by the Chicago Symphony in 2015 and recorded by that orchestra under Riccardo Muti's baton.

A vast array of percussion instruments are in play in this eleven-movement work. Each movement is titled ("Sprite", "Nymphs", "The Gryphon", and so forth), but I soon gave up trying to figure out where one ended and the next began. The music abounds in colours and textures; it zings, burbles, chirps, swoops, thunders, and thrums as it veers from quiet mystery to cinematic vastness. And the Philadelphians played it in dead earnest, to fabulous sonic effect. Timpanist Don Liuzzi deserves a gold medal for his epic performance.

During this panoramic piece, I noticed that the other writers around me seemed to stop taking notes, and a couple of them fell asleep. A long, meandering 'adagio' section found other audience members near me nodding off. Later they were jolted back to reality; the composer then gives us an endless ending. 

Mr. Bates was given a warm reception, and he was urged up onto the podium by Nézet-Séguin. A cheering section, possibly from Philadelphia, were very vocal in their appreciation of the composer and the work. I'll be curious to read what other writers have to say. For me, it seemed impressive rather than savourable. 

I wish Ernest Chausson's Poème de l'amour et de la mer was programmed more frequently. This evening marked only my second opportunity to hear it performed live - the first being by Dame Felicity Lott, with the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande on tour at the University of Connecticut in Storrs in 1995. Just last week, I was recalling my first-ever experience of hearing this gorgeous score, on a tape from the BBC.

The poems, by Maurice Bouchor, are clearly the words of a man speaking of parting from his (female) beloved. Indeed, the first performance of Poème de l'amour et de la mer was given at Brussels in 1893,  with the composer accompanying tenor Désiré Demest in his own arrangement for piano. It has been recorded by such baritones as François Le Roux and Gérard Souzay, but in concerts nowadays is invariably sung by a woman.

The great contralto Marguerite Matzenauer sang the Carnegie Hall premiere of the work in 1918, conducted by Leopold Stokowski. Matzenauer was a full-fledged Wagnerienne, singing everything from Erda to Isolde. Tonight, a mezzo-soprano of lighter timbre took on the Chausson music: Joyce DiDonato.

Ms. DiDonato, an enormously popular singer, looked striking in an emerald green gown, shoulders bare. Unfortunately, she tripped twice on her way to the podium, next to which a music stand had been installed for her. She did not seem to rely on the score, but glanced at it from time to time. Otherwise, she tended to fix her gaze on the ceiling of the auditorium or - later - on the floor.

Maestro Nézet-Séguin, an evident lover of Wagner's music - to which this Chausson work is often compared - led his splendid musicians in a rich-hued performance. From time to time, the orchestra covered the singer, whose dramatic accents in the lower range seemed a bit overwrought but who sang the lyrical portions with affecting loveliness, tinged by sadness. Some of the higher notes in the vocal line sounded a bit tense, but the overall impression was most appealing. Ms. DiDonato's performance was very well-received, though hopes for an encore were not sustained.

Ottorino Respighi's Fountains of Rome, such familiar music, premiered at Rome in 1918, under Arturo Toscanini's baton; the great Maestro brought the piece to New York City the following year. Of this work, Respighi wrote: "In this symphonic poem, the composer has endeavored to give expression to the sentiments and visions suggested to him by four of Rome’s fountains, contemplated at the hour when their characters are most in harmony with the surrounding landscape, or at which their beauty is most impressive to the observer."

 

On tonight's program, the Respighi was the piece I least expected to enjoy; in the event, I loved it: the orchestra played sumptuously, and Maestro Nézet-Séguin was very much in his element.

 

~ Oberon

Musica Viva NY @ All Souls Church

"At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, World War I – the Great War – ended." 

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday November 11th, 2018 - This evening, at All Souls Church, Musica Viva NY and the New Orchestra of Washington marked the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I with a beautiful and deeply moving program. The acoustic at All Souls is a marvel: voices fill the air with effortlessly wonderful sound, and experiencing Maurice Ravel's Le Tombeau de Couperin there gave me the sensation of sitting among the musicians. This immediacy gave the entire program a feeling of intense involvement.

Opening the concert, somewhat surprisingly, was an air by Radiohead honoring the memory of the longest-surviving soldier to serve in the Great War: Harry Patch (photo, above), who died in 2009 at the age of 111. Harry Patch (In Memory Of) begins eerily but soon develops a lovely lyricism. The orchestra plays a repetitive rhythmic phrase while tenor Shawn Bartels takes on the high-lying vocal line, showing fine use of piano/pianissimo. Passion rises, subsides, and then the music goes deep. The song ends on a long-sustained note with a slightly dissonant accompaniment.

Ravel's Tombeau de Couperin, so familiar to me from the Balanchine ballet of the same title, was given what can only be described as a gorgeous performance by the New Orchestra of Washington. Maestro Alejandro Hernandez-Valdez drew rich, warm sounds from the musicians: the strings are splendid, the solos wind players excellent (notably Stephen Key, oboe, and Lillian Copeland, English Horn), the harpist (Eric Sabatino) sublime. You've heard the term "surround-sound" - this is it!

Above: Cecil Coles

Not listed in the program today, an organ work by Cecil Coles - Cortège - was played by organist Trent Johnson as the singers of Musica Viva NY made their entrance. Coles (born in Scotland in 1888) became an assistant conductor at the Stuttgart Opera, and was the organist at St. Katherine's Church in that city. At the onset of the Great War, Coles signed up immediately and joined the Queen's Victoria Rifles, serving as the regimental band-leader. While on active service, Coles continued to compose, sending manuscripts back to Gustav Holst in England. On April 26, 1918, Coles was killed by a German sniper while retrieving bodies of fallen comrades from the field. He is buried in the British Military Cemetery at Crouy. Hearing Coles' music today sends me on a search mission for more.

With the black-clad choristers in place - each wearing a red poppy, for remembrance - a performance of a work new to me - Gustav Holst's Ode to Death - was devastating in its power and eerie expressiveness. It was composed the wake of World War I. Though he himself received a medical exemption from military service, Holst had composer-friends who served (Ralph Vaughan Williams) and died (George Butterworth) at the Western Front. The text of Ode to Death comes from a section of Walt Whitman’s 1865 elegy, “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” which was originally written in mourning the death of President Abraham Lincoln. 

Harpist Eric Sabatino opens the work, with the chorus intoning the word "Come!" on a sustained tone. Marvelous harmonies abound, both from the instrumentalists and the singers, as the music expands, then subsides. Harp and basses inaugurate a march-like song, the timpani sounding and the organ maintaining a spiritual connection. The music turns rapturous, then amplifies again before ebbing to the sound of bells, and a lyrical song. Chimes are heard, Conor Nelson's flute summons the chorus sopranos, who sing with the harp. High violins brush the heavens, over plucked violas and celli. The music becomes cosmic - cinematic - only to dissolve into the ethereal, with harp and bells, and the chorus softly issuing a last summons on a prolonged, fading note: "Come!" A chilling moment.

Above: composer Joseph Turrin

The second half of the program was given over to American composer Joseph Turrin's cantata And Crimson Roses Once Again Be Fair, a co-commission by Musica Viva NY, the New Orchestra of Washington, and the Washington Master Chorale. It's a magnificent work, drawing for its texts on the writings of the 'War Poets', some of them famous, some forgotten.

While putting us in mind of the great choral masterpieces of Elgar, Howells, and Parry, as well as of Vaughan-Williams' Sea Symphony and - of course - of Britten's War Requiem, Mr. Turrin's epic cantata shows his own excellence in writing music - both moving and finely-crafted - for instruments and voices alike. And Crimson Roses Once Again Be Fair deserves a place of pride in the repertory of choral groups worldwide.

A tumult of bells and chimes opens the cantata, followed by a dirge. Rich harmonies are developed in the first poem/movement: Let us remember Spring will come again - May 1915, by Charlotte Mew. While the poem offers hope to the bereaved, the poetess herself eventually committed suicide.

Rousing and passionate, commencing with with Chris Carrillo's trumpet, Rejoice, Friends! That we are alive (poem by Bruno Frank) has a syncopated feel and grows in amplitude. 

Siegfried Sassoon's Bombardment is thoughtful and gloomy, with Mr. Nelson's flute sounding forlorn. There is a powerful build-up, then a false calm surrounds the poem's final lines: 

"The fifth day there came a hush;
We left our holes
And looked above the wreckage of the earth
To where the white clouds moved in silent lines
Across the untroubled blue."

An anonymous poem, At the Front, is propelled by the snare drum's marching beat. A thoughtful interlude, with flute and clarinet, as the soldiers wonder if they'll survive the war - and the rain - before the drum strikes up again and they all march away.

A career soldier's song - I am the Division Commander - is a lively, rhythmic setting of Alfred Lichtenstein's poem in which the officer states: " Would that there were an endless war..." It's a song loaded with irony.

Another Sassoon poem is the setting of Soliloquy - The Last Meeting. Poignant strings and a passage of wordless vocalise set the mood for the devastating opening lines: "I know that he is lost among the stars, and may return no more but in their light..."  The clear, lyric soprano of Laura Choi Stuart carries the solo lines, and Conor Nelson's flute brings a glimmer of light to the song's end.

Wilfred Owen, whose poetry Britten brought to the fore in his War Requiem, wrote Anthem for Doomed Youth. Joseph Turrin's use of parlando for the chorus here is powerful, as drums and bells provide a rocking syncopation. The violins sound restlessly, before a crashing end.

In Flanders Fields, to the cherished verses of John McCrae, is spine-tingling in its atmospheric use of the chorus's women singing in unison as concertmaster Rachel Shapiro weaves in ravishing violin passages. The women harmonize, then return to unison. The song reaches its dreamy end, leaving us bereft.

"We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields."

A tumultuous orchestral interlude gradually winds down to the sound of the flute, and a fading march.

The human toll of war is vast and tragic, but in his poem Poor Dogs, Albert-Paul Granier movingly brings to mind the fate of domesticated canines, left lost and masterless by war's devastation. Set as an a capella hymn, this was one of the most moving parts of the cantata because it's something we'd likely never think about, really. It gives fresh meaning to the phrase "the dogs of war..."  Another Grenier poem, The Mortars, is huge and urgent.

Those who have seen the film Testament of Youth will be familiar with Vera Brittain: poetess, wartime nurse, activist. Her Elegy/Perhaps bears the burden of loss, the poem sung as a haunting lullabye by mezzo-soprano Barbara Dever. Ms. Dever, whose powerful performances of Amneris and Ulrica at The Met I fondly recall, sings softly over poetic, restless undercurrents from the strings. The singer touches fleetingly on deep, burnished low tones; her singing is moving and sincere.

In the end, Mr. Turrin returns to Let us remember Spring will come again, the Charlotte Mew poem heard at the cantata's start. The music gets quite grand, but quietens as it reaches its end. The words of the poetess now seem full of resignation: "At one with Love, at one with Grief, blind to the scattered things and the changing skies."

I left the church and walked across Central Park in the fading twilight. Many memories filled me: memories of people now lost to me thru death, or - worse - thru fate.

~ Oberon