Oberon's Grove

Consuelo Rubio

Spanish soprano Consuelo Rubio (above) studied voice in Madrid and came to public attention in 1953 when she won the International Voice Competition at Xinebra.

Her career took her to the Spanish music centers as well as to Aix-en-Provence, Chicago, Vienna, Rio de Janeiro, Munich, Amsterdam, Rome, Brussels, Turin, Buenos Aires, and the Hollywood Bowl; her wide-ranging repertoire included Susanna in NOZZE,  Carmen, Mimi, Donna Elvira, Eva in MEISTERSINGER, Elisabetta in DON CARLO, and Strauss's Ariadne.

Consuelo Rubio did not leave many recordings - and some of the ones she did make were only issued on vinyl. But here is a sampling of her spirited, soprano Carmen:

Consuelo Rubio - Seguidilla - CARMEN - Leopold Simoneau

She also Marguerite on the classic Igor Markevitch 1961 recording of Berlioz's DAMNATION DE FAUST:

Consuelo Rubio - D'amour l'ardente flamme ~ DAMNATION DE FAUST

Ms. Rubio passed away in 1981 at the age of 54. 

~ Oberon

SWAN LAKE @ New York City Ballet

Above: Teresa Reichlen as Odette

~ Oberon

Sunday February 16th, 2020 evening - If the rumors are true, the current run of Peter Martins' production of SWAN LAKE at New York City Ballet will mark the last time it will be performed. It seems the Company is purging the Martins ballets from its repertoire, and while very little of his work is essential, discarding this very popular production - and his gorgeous SLEEPING BEAUTY and classic BARBER VIOLIN CONCERTO - feels a bit like throwing the baby out with the bathwater.

{Update: it's now been confirmed that the Peter Martins SWAN LAKE will remain in the repertory.}

Whatever the case may be, Mr. B's House was packed to the rafters this evening. Daniel Capps was on the podium, and Kurt Nikkanen rose in the pit to play - with satiny tone - the numerous violin solos that permeate Tchaikovsky's glorious score. Just to hear this music played live again was a treat in itself.

During the prelude, my thoughts strayed back to the years (1998-2008) when I was going to NYCB three or four times a week. Then, I knew everyone on that stage, and I loved them all; by contrast, tonight there were so many dancers in the cast that I could not put names to. The ballroom scene's dance for the Six Princesses (the "Would-Be Brides"), in which favorite future soloists and first-opportunity corps girls used to keep my opera glasses fully employed, passed by pleasantly but without engaging me personally. I didn't know any of them.

The first time I saw this production, in 1999, the sets and costumes made me nauseous. Kyra Nichols danced Odette/Odile that night (possibly the only time she performed it), and her poetic interpretation was the only thing that kept me from walking out. I vowed never to see this SWAN LAKE it again.

But in those days, I was in the acute and highly contagious stage of NYCB fever, and I soon found that resistance was futile: I simply had to see my beautiful ballerinas tackle the iconic role. Over time, I learned to tune out the ugly aspects of the production by focusing on the dancing, which is almost non-stop from the moment the curtain rises. There's little mime to been seen, and Cosima Wagner's admonition, "No promenading!", seems to be enforced. The customary tiresome tutor has been sent packing, but we do have a lively Jester whose virtuoso feats were nimbly tossed-off tonight by Harrison Ball. The introduction of small children into the party scene is another felicitous touch in the production, which moves forward smoothly yet never feels rushed.

In 2011, I was at Teresa Reichlen's very first performance of the iconic dual role of Odette/Odile. It was lovely to see her in these roles again tonight: her line, expressive arms, and elegant extension made her Odette memorable, and - as Odile - she truly relished the part she played in deceiving the Prince. Her fouettés were stellar, winning enthusiastic applause. In the ballet's final moments, Odette's return to her swan form was heartbreaking, Tess gave her departure from the hapless Siegfried a truly tragic dimension. 

Peter Walker had debuted as Siegfried just yesterday; this slender, good-looking dancer has the technique and musicality the role calls for, as well as a lithe line to match Tess's and a boyish naiveté that makes both his instantaneous love for Odette - and his being an easy target for Rothbart-  utterly believable. The lovers' final parting, with Siegfried in abject despair, is the production's most powerful moment.

Spartak Hoxha, Sara Adams, and Kristen Segin were charming and fleet-of-foot in the pas de trois of the opening scene. Marika Anderson was the dramatic Queen and Preston Chamblee the creepy, cape-swirling Rothbart. The quartet of Laine Harbony, Gil Bolden, Mary Elizabeth Sell, and Alec Knight represented Spain, and Gretchen Smith and Sean Suozzi pulled out all the stops for Hungarian (I knew they would). Emma Von Enck and Devin Alberda captured the rubato allure of the Neapolitan Dance, and Megan LeCrone and Ask LaCour brought star quality to the enticing sexiness of the Russian Dance.  As ever, the dance of the Four Cygnets in the first lakeside scene was an audience favorite: the quartet tonight were Baily Jones, Alexa Maxwell, Clair Von Enck, and Emma Von Enck.

During the curtain calls, I found myself glancing about the house - the house that Philip Johnson built for Mr. B, and I wondered how many people who remember attending while Balanchine was alive are still attending now. Who recalls when there were no aisles in the orchestra-level seating area (Balanchine didn't want them), and who remembers when a full-time opera company also played here? I thought of the thousands of hours I've spent in this hall since 1966, watching everyone from Suzanne Farrell to Wendy Whelan, hearing everyone from Norman Treigle to Jose Carreras. Change, however inevitable, makes me sad.

And then I thought about the afternoon in the late 70s when TJ and I were sitting outside the stage door, hoping to get a glimpse of Merrill Ashley or Sara Leland coming in to rehearse. Suddenly, Mr B himself came strolling along, with a gorgeous redhead on his arm. TJ, normally so reserved, gasped aloud.

Balanchine gave us the tiniest nod of greeting as he passed by. I could have reached out and touched him.

~ Oberon 

Che Malambo @ The Joyce

Photo by Frank Wiesen

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday February 14th, 2020 matinee - The all-male Argentine dance company Che Malambo thrilled this afternoon's audience at The Joyce with their vivid 75-minute performance in the gaucho (South American cowboy) tradition. Sexy, agile, powerful, and proud, the Company of twelve men displayed spellbinding precision and musicality in their dancing, propelled thru shifting rhythms by the sounds of their bombos (traditional Latin American folk drums) and of their own stomping feet.

The Company's artistic director Gilles Brinas is responsible for every aspect of this production: the concept, staging, music, lighting, and design; his choreography has been developed in collaboration with the dancers.

The malambo is a danced duo in which the competitors engage in the zapateo: fast and furious footwork imitating horses’ hooves; such duets alternate with ensemble passages as the work unfolds. Fascinating - and eliciting much applause from the crowd - is the dancers' brilliant manipulation of their boleadoras: long cords with stones tied to the ends. These are whirled in circular arcs, having both a visual and a sonic effect.

Above photo by Mariana Radvanska

Frequent solos crop up among the duets and group segments; in one solo interlude, the dancer strums a guitar while executing fancy footwork, then sings a ballad which becomes a duet and then a trio. For the most part, the production rolled along on waves of propulsive energy as the dancers vied to outdo one another in daredevil combinations. For their exhilarating performance, Che Malambo were greeted with whoops of delight as they took their bows in a series of choreographed curtain calls.

~ Oberon

Janine Jansen @ The NY Philharmonic

Above: violinist Janine Jansen with Meastro Jaap van Zweden, photographed during this evening's New York Philharmonic concert by Chris Lee; courtesy of the NY Philharmonic

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday February 13th, 2020 - My first experience of hearing Janine Jansen live tonight proved every bit as exciting as I'd hoped it would be. She opened this evening's New York Philharmonic program with the Brahms violin concerto; Jaap van Zweden was on the podium.

Ms. Jansen strode onto the Geffen Hall stage, clad in a striking emerald-green gown; she stood quietly as the concerto's rather lengthy orchestral introduction was played - to perfection - by the Philharmonic. From the violinist's opening notes, it was clear that we were in for a highly emotional performance; even in the quietest, calmest passages, a sense of the artist's passionate nature could be felt. The opening Allegro non troppo, filled with leaps, arpeggios, double-stops, and rapid passage-work, was thrilling to hear; Ms. Jansen's spun-silver pianissimi gave me the chills. The cadenza - created by the great Joseph Joachim, to whom the concerto was dedicated - was vividly played. Following a crystalline trill of long duration, the movement comes to its lyrical close. Maestro van Zweden kept his arms raised, precluding applause, which would have ruined the atmosphere.

Over the years, violinists have been known to complain that Brahms gave one of the concerto's most appealing melodies to the oboe: this opens the Adagio, and was tonight played so persuasively by the Philharmonic's Sherry Sylar. Ms. Jansen takes up the melody, with the horns commenting. The violinist's miraculously-sustained final note - a fine thread of tone - had an other-worldly gleam.

The lively lilt of the concerto's finale found the orchestra in high spirits whilst Ms. Jansen dispatched myriad notes at high velocity and offered delicious turns of phrase during more lyrical passages. As her spectacular performance reached its end, the audience's pent-up excitement was unleashed in an epic ovation. 

The great Brahms concerto felt tonight like more than a tonic: it had the effect of a transfusion of beauty and hope. The hall, packed with ardent music-lovers, applauded with unfettered joy, and the artists of the Philharmonic joined in enthusiastically, calling Ms. Jansen out for repeated bows. And an encore.

Above: performance photo of Janine Jansen by Chris Lee, courtesy of The NY Philharmonic

Tana León's Stride was having its world premiere this evening; a co-commission by The New York Philharmonic and the Oregon Symphony, the work is part of the Philharmonic's Project 19, celebrating the 100th anniversary of the passing of the 19th Amendment.

Greeted with great affection by the audience, Ms. León spoke movingly of the woman who inspired her new creation: Susan B Anthony.  The composer pointed out that the 19th amendment in its original form did not extend the voting right to women of colour. It took some 45 years for that omission to be setto rights. Ms. Ms. León's Stride makes a subtle reference to these 'omitted' women in the work's final measures

Stride is immaculately crafted, and alive with numerous musical enticements: the opening ultra-soft (nearly inaudible) note sustained by the violins, the joining horns and trumpets, the curious richness of the vibraphone. Fanfare-like motifs from the brass sound over the string ensemble; our ears prick up at the sound of the timpani, xylophone, and marimba. The trumpets use wah-wah mutes, the xylophone and clarinet team up for a jaunty passage, and a large bean shaker invokes the thought of votes being counted. Basses and timpani duet, and the horns seem to stutter. A sustained tremelo from the celli comes like a portent; chimes and bells sound before the folkish reference to Africa makes its brief appearance.

For all its sonic variety, Stride at times seemed to lose momentum; this may be a reference to the many hindrances Susan B Anthony encountered in her quest. Yet I guess I expected something more uplifting...or triumphing. 

The evening closed with a magnificent performance of Richard Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier Suite. How thoughtful of the Philharmonic to program this work on Valentine's Day eve, since it was on February 14th, 1970 that I saw Der Rosenkavalier for the very first time: Marion Lippert, Christa Ludwig, Reri Grist, George Shirley, and Walter Berry headed the cast, and my seat was in the Met's very rront row, behind the left shoulder of the eminent conductor (and friend of the composer) Karl Böhm. The 50th anniversary of that event was thus celebrated just a few hours early.

How sumptuously the Philharmonic played these sweeping themes tonight: the irresistible waltzes, the heavenly music of the Presentation of the Silver Rose, the bittersweet trio wherein the Marschallin surrenders her young lover Octavian to the innocent Sophie, and the sweetly harmonized final duet of the boy and girl embarking on a great romantic adventure. It ends with a delightful Straussian touch: a musical depiction of the Blackamoor returning to the empty stage to retrieve Sophie's dropped handkerchief. The music features so many splendid opportunities for the Philharmonic's marvelous principal artists to shine (and for individual sections to sing forth,too). It's a veritable cornucopia of melody. 

~ Oberon

Valentine's Day ~ 1970

Above: Act II setting in the Nathaniel Merrill/Robert O'Hearn production of DER ROSENKAVALIER, a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo

On Valentine's Day, 1970, I saw Strauss's DER ROSENKAVALIER for the first time. No more meaningful date in the calendar could be imagined for my first live encounter with this, one of the greatest stories of love in the lyric literature.

At that time, having grown out of my unhappy teens, I already knew my destiny but had not yet found the inner strength to embrace it. I was floundering emotionally, but everything about the world sang to me of romance. I was heading for an exciting and tumultuous life, promiscuous and impulsive, in which the search for love would lead me down paths of foolish adventures and broken hearts. In the end, like so many romantics, I settled for something solid and domestically reassuring, but lacking in passion. Passion for me now is all in the music.

Be that as it may, in 1970 all his lay before me. On that February night, I was seated in the front row of The Met's Orchestra section, directly behind the left shoulder of the one and only Karl Böhm. It was from that vantage point that I witnessed an unforgettable moment: the Milliner in this production arrives at the Marschallin's levée with two small dogs. Whilst Walter Berry, as Baron Ochs, was negotiating his marriage contract with the notary, the dogs scampered down to the footlights and one mounted the other. The audience burst into laughter, and Maestro Böhm called up to Mr. Berry: "Surely, we're in Vienna!"

It took a few moments for order to be restored, but by the time the Marschallin, sung by Marion Lippert  (above) began her monolog, all was as it should be. Lippert, who I also saw as Elisabetta in DON CARLO, was a lovely artist and both her singing and her portrayal of the Princess von Werdenberg were very moving.

Walter Berry (above) was a marvelous singing-actor, and though I later came to realize that there were deep notes in Ochs' music that could have been fuller, I really enjoyed his performance. George Shirley sang the Italian Tenor's aria stylishly, and Mildred Miller and Andrea Velis were just perfect as the intriguers Annina and Valzacchi. Rudolf Knoll was the fussy, vocally apt Faninal.

Reri Grist (above) was the most delicious Sophie imaginable. Her sweet, silvery voice sailed clearly out into the big hall, making a perfect impression in the Rose Presentation scene, and simply radiant in the final trio and duet. She was pretty as a picture, too.

Of all my memories of my first ROSENKAVALIER, the dearest and deepest is of the appearance of Octavian, in the person of Christa Ludwig, at maison Faninal, holding on high the silver rose in her right hand. Now, fifty years on, that is the single most iconic image from my opera-going career. I not only lost my heart to Ms. Ludwig that night, but to opera itself. 

Many of my cassettes from that period have become unplayable, but I was able to rescue the final scene from my first ROSENKAVALIER:

ROSENKAVALIER - finale - Marion Lippert - Christa Ludwig - Reri Grist - Met 2~14~70

~ Oberon

Danish String Quartet ~ CMS Beethoven Cycle

Above: the Danish String Quartet, photo by Caroline Bittencourt

~ Author: Ben Weaver

February 2020 - With Ludwig van Beethoven’s 250th birthday celebrations this year there will be much Beethoven on display at concert halls around the world. But few things tell us more about Beethoven and his genius than his sixteen String Quartets, composed throughout his life. Chamber Society of Lincoln Center is hosting the Danish String Quartet at Alice Tully Hall for a multi-week marathon of performances of all of Beethoven’s Quartets - performed in order in which they were written - thus giving us a very clear view into Beethoven as composer.

People who may know Beethoven primarily though his nine Symphonies know only a small part of Beethoven the musician. Exploration of other genres reveal many surprises about the man’s personality. If the Symphonies tend to showcase his heaven-storming madness, his Piano Sonatas and String Quartets especially, reveal a man of humor, gentleness, romance and - yes - occasional heaven-storming. In most genres he tackled, Beethoven didn’t tread water, but pushed beyond previous acceptable boundaries into an unknown future that would one day birth Mahler and Schoenberg. 

 

The six String Quartets published under his Op. 18 were composed between 1798 and 1800 on commission from Prince Lobkowitz. Beethoven was 27. Mozart had been dead less than ten years and Haydn would live another ten. For those who judge Beethoven by his Fifth Symphony, the early works - whether Quartets, Piano Sonatas or Violin Sonatas - would come as a shock. Light and tuneful, with only occasional bouts of melancholy and darkness to forecast things to come, they would not be out of place in the Esterhazy Palace. For example, the opening tune of the 6th Quartet is one Haydn would kill for, with its contagious bounciness.

 

Taking on this Olympian challenge are four string players from Denmark: violinists Frederik Øland and Rune Tonsgaard Sørensen, violist Asbjørn Nørgaard, and cellist Fredrik Schøyen Sjölin. Their beautiful, crisp and transparent playing has been acclaimed around the world, and their performances so far of the Quartets have been exemplary. The two violinists alternate playing 1st and they have unique qualities: Øland’s sound is more pointed, Tonsgaard Sørensen’s is more romantic. In the magnificent Adagio cantabile of the 2nd Quartet (actually the third quartet to be composed), Tonsgaard Sørensen’s violin sustained a gorgeous, ravishing line in the upper register, mellow like honey. In the 1st Quartet, the dramatic Adagio affettuoso ed appassioanto benefited from Øland’s more searing approach. It may still be too early for viola and cello to really showcase their talents - the cello especially in these early works largely serves as an accompanist “oom-pah-paher.” This will change as Beethoven’s talents matured and as he pushed the art-form in new, more symphonic directions.

 

(Unfortunately, I had to miss the performances of the “Razumovsky” Quartets.)

~ Ben Weaver

Vengerov/Osetinskaya @ Carnegie Hall

Above: Maxim Vengerov and Polina Osetinskaya; performance photo by Steve J Smith

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday February 11th, 2020 -  Maxim Vengerov in recital at Carnegie Hall, with Polina Osetinskaya at the Steinway. Uniquely matched in technique and artistry, the two offered a most appealing program, distinctively played. Commencing at a high level with beautifully-played Mozart, the artists continued the evening on an ever-ascending musical path, reaching the heavens in the Strauss sonata. The atmosphere in the packed hall was palpable: four encores testified to the audience's great enthusiasm.

Mozart's Violin Sonata in B-flat Major, K. 454, found Mr. Vengerov and Ms. Osetinskaya immediately displaying the very cordial tonal blend they have established in their collaboration over the years. The pianist, in a creamy-white gown, offered remarkable clarity and grace in her playing throughout the evening. Following this elegant Largo introduction, the Allegro abounds in deft modulations and subtle nuance from both players.

The Andante brings a flow of melody, like an operatic aria. One perfect moment came as Mr. Vengerov sustained a single tone whilst from the Steinway Ms. Osetinskaya played gently florid phrases. Then, immediately commencing the final Allegretto, the players reveled in the treasure chest of themes that Mozart offers them. This movement, with its triplet rhythms, feels so alive.

Next came Franz Schubert's demanding Fantasy in C-Major, D. 934. The shimmering, extraordinary hush of the opening Andante was somewhat compromised by an unsettled audience, but soon the two musicians were able to establish the desired atmosphere with their exquisitely controlled playing. The ensuing Allegro is a dance wherein the violin often sings in the high range. Shifting back to an andantino, with its sweet, tender melody, we experience a slow rise in passion from the keyboard.

The Fantasy's finale brings light and dazzling coloratura from both instruments. Mr. Vengerov's high notes peek out at us with precision. He then commences to pluck the violin's strings as Ms. Osetinskaya sends cascades of notes into the hall. Suddenly, things become super-fast and we seem headed for the finish line, but a piano interlude lulls us; the violin joins in, and we return to the Fantasy's haunting opening passage.

Above: pianist Polina Osetinskaya

Returning after the interval, Ms. Vengerov and Ms. Osentinskaya gave an engrossing performance of Richard Strauss's Violin Sonata in E-flat Major, Op. 18. Listening to any of Strauss's music makes me think longingly of his operas - and of the characters who populate them. And so this evening Ariadne, the Marschallin, Barak, and even Salome danced in my head as the violin sonata unfolded in all its glory.

Although plagued by a cellphone, by heavy coughing throughout the house between movements, and by the sound of a surprising number of items being dropped randomly to the floor, the musicians maintained their poise and played divinely.

Phrase after phrase of Straussian opulence were wafted into the space, with delicate high-lying passages alternating with outbursts of sound; as in the Master's operas, a sense of drama is ever-present. The sweet, sad lyricism of the Andante cantabile marked the high-point of the evening; despite a disturbing fit of coughing and snorting from the woman behind us, Ms. Osentinskaya's pianistic niceties and Mr. Vengerov's sublime control managed to give this ethereal music a glowing quality. Following the quiet, minor-key opening of the final movement, the music came alive with bold, colorful playing. A lighthearted interlude delays the players, but only briefly, as the music sails on to its splendid finish. A spirited ovation was the musicians' just reward.

In 1922, Maurice Ravel heard the young Hungarian violin virtuoso (and niece of the great Joseph Joachim), Jelly D’Aranyi, in concert in London. Following the performance, Ravel met with Mlle. D’Aranyi and asked her to play for him a number of gypsy tunes on her violin; he also asked her about the technical aspects of performing these songs. The result of this encounter was Ravel’s virtuoso violin classic: Tzigane. I first heard it years ago at the ballet, where George Balanchine had choreographed the music as a solo for his muse, Suzanne Farrell.

Although Tzigane employs no genuine Romany or folk melodies, the harmonies and rhythmic shifts have the impetuous lilt of a Hungarian rhapsody. Virtuosity and a sense of mystery lure the ear; the violin shivers, the piano trills. Off-kilter plucked passages and perpetual-motion pianism dance us onward, the music going very high. A breathless acceleration at the end sparks the audience's joyous applause.

 

Photos from the performance by Steve J Smith, courtesy of Carnegie Hall:

 

 

 

 

Violinist and pianist played Brahms' Hungarian Dance @1 as their first encore, followed by two Fritz Kreisler bonbons. When the applause persisted, they returned and played the gorgeous Méditation from Jules Massenet's Thaïs. This piece is seldom heard in the concert hall these days; I was so moved by the ravishing playing of it by Mr. Vengerov and Ms. Osetinskaya tonight. Beneath its surface beauty, this music evokes deep thoughts of the passage of time, of aging, of past regrets, and of the elusive nature of love. For a romantic living in an unromantic world, it's extraordinarily poignant.

~ Oberon

Ave Maria

Maria Callas - Ave Maria ~ OTELLO

Phaeton Piano Trio @ The Frick

Above, the artists of the Phaeton Piano Trio: pianist Florian Uhlig, violinist Friedemann Eichhorn, and cellist Peter Hörr

Author: Oberon

Sunday February 9th, 2020 - This evening's concert by the Phaeton Piano Trio at The Frick was perfect in every regard. The space, the program, the playing, and my companion: perfection. Making their New York debut today, the Trio offered masterpieces by Beethoven, Mendelssohn, and Dvořák to an appreciative audience.

The Music Room at The Frick (above) is one of the most appealing places to enjoy music in all of Gotham. The wonderfully immediate acoustic, the subdued lighting, and the feeling of intimacy are ideal. Today, we were hearing Beethoven's Trio in D-Major, Op 70, No. 1 (“Ghost”) live for the second time in the span of a week. The difference between hearing it in the big space of Carnegie Hall and hearing it at The Frick today was telling. And the playing by the Phaeton was everything one could hope for.

The three gentlemen seized our imagination with the urgency of their opening phrases. The flow of music from the keyboard underscores lambent sounds from the violin and cello; everything melds into a rich blend, which has the emotional pull of Olde World style and grace. My companion and I were soon swept into that world by the Phaeton's inspired - and inspiring - playing.

The mysterious start of the Largo heralds the movement which gives this trio its appellation: “Ghost.”  A mournful theme from Mr. Hörr's cello is soon melded to the colorations of poignant regret summoned by Mr. Eichhorn's violin. At the Steinway, Mr. Uhlig's dynamic palette adds to the haunting atmosphere. The performance was profoundly moving, as Mr. Uhlig commence his long descending piano scale I was on the verge of tears.

The zestful opening of the concluding Presto snaps us out of our darkling reverie. The pianist interjects flashes of keyboard deftness as the music sweeps onward, in alternating currents of vitality and lyricism. The cumulative power of the Phaeton's Beethoven left me feeling euphoric and a bit dazed....but dazed in the best possible way.

Felix Mendelssohn's Trio in D-Minor, Op. 49 is a very special work for me. Many years ago, when opera was the only music I cared about, I was waiting for one of the Met's Saturday matinee broadcasts to start; the station played this Mendelssohn trio and I was awakened to the delight of chamber music. For years afterwards, opera continued to hold sway; but when I moved to New York City in 1998, I found the wondrous world of chamber music welcoming me. I am still exploring it now, some 22 years on. Performances like today's at The Frick offer consolation in this troubled world.

I realize now that this Mendelssohn trio's immediate lure is the heartfelt cello solo that sets the music on its way, and which Mr. Hörr played with  of a dusky rose-tinted hue. His control of vibrato is so thoughtful and poetic, and in this he is perfectly matched by Mr. Eichhorn's violin.

Mr. Uhlig at the piano introduces the second m ovement, Andante con moto tranquilo, with the melody in the right hand and the accompanying figurations divided above. The theme is taken up by the violin, and beautifully harmonized by the cello.

The typically Mendelssohnian Scherzo is light and precise, and the finale features the piano prominently, sending forth arpeggios and chromatic octaves. The listeners are swept along, with the strings bringing cantabile passages to the mix.

Dvořák's Trio in E-Minor Op. 90 (“Dumky”) was the post-interval treat from these superb musicians. Dumky is the plural of dumka, a Ukrainian lament. Dvořák combined these slow, melancholy sections with faster Slavic dances; he chose six dumky, each in a different key. Thus his Opus 90 seems more like a suite than a traditional piano trio.

The first movement starts with a cello lamentation, in which the violin soon joins. Then the dancing starts. The second movement again brings the cello's meditation, followed by a lively vivace. Thus the work moves forward, with shifting moods and ample opportunities for each player to shine: their emotive performance is rich and wondrous. The "Dumky" trio ends on an exuberant note, upon which waves of applause filled the golden room.

A Beethoven adagio was the much-admired encore today, with the cello in prominence. Here, as throughout the evening, the silent communication between the players was so fascinating to observe at close range.

It was interesting to note in the players' brief bios that all three are professors at prominent music centers in Germany. Fortunate the students who work with such outstanding musicians.

~ Oberon

Mirella Freni Has Passed Away

The death of the beloved Italian soprano Mirella Freni has been announced; she passed away on February 9th, 2020, at the age of 84. Ms. Freni's was the epitome of the classic Italian lirico soprano sound: warm, clear, and deeply feminine.

I first saw Mirella Freni onstage as Adina in ELISIR D'AMORE (above) at the Old Met in 1965. The following season, The Met had moved to Lincoln Center where Freni's performances as Micaela, Juliette, and Liu were widely acclaimed. (Ironically, I never saw her in her signature role: Mimi in BOHEME).

Her Liu was particularly moving, and a perfect vocal foil for the silvery trumpet-like tones of Birgit Nilsson, who sang the title-role.

Above: Princess and slave: NIlsson and Freni backstage during TURANDOT...at La Scala, I believe.

Above: MIrella Freni as Elisabetta de Valois in DON CARLO

In 1983, Ms. Freni took on the lirico-spinto role of Elisabetta in DON CARLO; there was some hand-wringing at the time among fans who thought she was heading down a path toward vocal ruin. But this was far from the truth, and Elisabetta was a most congenial part for her.

Later on 1983, Mirella Freni and Placido Domingo closed the matinee portion of The Met's Centennial Gala with a luminously sung performance of the love duet from OTELLO; James Levine was on the podium. Those were the days! I was so pleased to have been there. 

Above: Freni and Ghiaurov in ONEGIN

Taking on the role of Tatyana in EUGEN ONEGIN in 1989, reportedly at the urging of her husband, basso Nicolai Ghiaurov, Ms. Freni found one of her finest roles. She repeated her Tatyana at The Met in 1992.

Mirella Freni - Letter Scene from EUGEN ONEGIN - Met bcast 1992

At The Met, Ms. Freni also appeared as Marguerite in FAUST, Susanna in NOZZE DI FIGARO (the role I most regret missing her in), Manon Lescaut, Alice Ford, Adriana Lecouvreur, and Fedora. In sum, she sang with The Met 140 times, making her farewell in a gala concert on May 15th, 2005, marking the 50th anniversary of her operatic debut and the 40th anniversary of her Met debut. In 2006, she appeared on the Met stage for the final time, in a spoken tribute to general manager Joe Volpe.

Two of my fondest memories of Mirella Freni are of performances she sang at Tanglewood; we lived in Hartford at the time, and often made the trek up to Lenox. In 1981, Ms. Freni joined Shirley Verrett, Ermanno Mauro, Nicolai Ghiaurov, and Maestro Seiji Ozawa for a thrilling performance of the Verdi REQUIEM. Freni's voice sailed radiantly over the orchestra and chorus, and her timbre mingled divinely with Ms. Verrett's in the Recordare and Agnus Dei. The ovation at the end was spectacular and went on and on; no one wanted to leave.

In 1990, Ms. Freni and Mr. Ghiaurov gave a joint recital in the smaller Tanglewood hall. They sang songs and arias - including the iconic Freni Letter Scene from ONEGIN - and encored with "La ci darem la mano" from DON GIOVANNI. We sat in the front role, dead center, and Mirella and I flirted openly throughout the first half. At intermission, people came up to me and asked if I was a personal friend of hers. For the second half of the concert, things were toned down - perhaps we had made her husband jealous - but she continued to smile at me, and during the bows she made an affectionate gesture to me, which I'll never forget.

I first heard the voice of Mirella Freni singing the trouser role of Oberto on the 1962 recording of Handel's ALCINA with Joan Sutherland and Teresa Berganza. The immediate appeal of the Freni sound was evident from the start:

Mirella Freni - Chi m'insegna il caro padre ~ ALCINA

Among the soprano's many recordings, her "Depuis le jour" from LOUISE stands out for me:

Mirella Freni ~ Depuis le jour - LOUISE

And her singing of the Agnus Dei from the Verdi REQUIEM with Christa Ludwig is heavenly:

Mirella Freni & Christa Ludwig - Agnus Dei ~ Verdi REQUIEM

Above: Mirella Freni, backstage, in costume for Adriana Lecouvreur

~ Oberon