Oberon's Grove

Moffo & Merrill ~ LA TRAVIATA @ The Met

~ Author: Oberon

By chance, I came upon this lovely Louis Melançon photo (above) of Anna Moffo and Robert Merrill in Verdi's LA TRAVIATA in the Met's 1966 Cecil Beaton production of the Verdi classic, which evoked in me memories of their partnership in this opera. From Moffo''s debut in 1959 til her final Met appearance in a staged opera there in 1976, they sang these roles together 50 times with the Company, in New York and on tour. They also made a beautiful recording of the opera together for RCA. Listen to a portion of their Act II duet here.

Moffo's 1959 Met debut came at The Old Met in the Tyrone Guthrie production. On September 24th, 1966, during the second week at the New Met, Cecil Beaton's lavish production opened with Moffo, Merrill, and tenor Bruno Prevedi in the leading roles. Georges Prêtre was on the podium. I saw the Moffo Violetta four times, twice with Merrill as Germont, and twice with Mario Sereni, who was very good in the role, and a less 'wooden' actor than Merrill.  

Above: Moffo as Violetta in the scene at Flora's party

Anna Moffo had two Saturday matinee broadcasts of TRAVIATA in the Beaton production, nine months apart. For me, they offered tell-tale signs of what would be the diva's eventual vocal decline. In the first broadcast, on March 25th, 1967, she sounded fantastic: the voice lyrical and free-flowing, the top gorgeous, the drama expressed thru colour rather than force: in sum, one of her great performances.

During June, 1967, I saw two more Moffo Violettas (one with Merrill, the second with Sereni) and she was very impressive indeed, receiving huge ovations. I met her at the stage door; she was extremely beautiful in person, and very kind. 

On December 30, 1967, Moffo had her second matinee broadcast in the Beaton production. I was very excited to be seeing her onstage again, but from her very first line - "Flora, amici, la notte che resta..." - something had changed.  On "...che resta.." she really leaned heavily on the low notes, sounding almost chesty. I was still a novice opera-lover at that time, but alarm bells went off. Moffo continued to pressurize her lower notes throughout the first act, but the coloratura and high notes of "Sempre libera" seemed fine.

During the intermission, I asked a fellow Moffo fan if her vocalism that day was worrisome to him; he felt she was making an effort to sound more 'dramatic', and he didn't feel panicky about it. The soprano continued singing in this manner for the rest of the opera, and - since the drama gets increasingly intense as the story unfolds - we heard these big, juicy lower notes from Moffo throughout the afternoon.

As it turned out, I never saw Anna Moffo on The Met stage again after that, though she continued singing there for nearly a decade. On February 1, 1969, came the disastrous LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR broadcast, which I listened to in disbelief, which gave way to despair. The voice was wildly unpredictable: woozy in the middle, over-ripe in the lower range, and screamy at the top. Awkwardly, I ran into her in the Met lobby a couple of weeks afterward and she recognized me; she asked if I had heard the LUCIA broadcast, and I gave a neutral response. She said she had been ill that day, but that now things were back to normal.

I cannot say for certain whether she ever regained peak form again, but from reports from friends, she was not singing with the lustre and ease we'd come to expect from her. Her later recordings are so sad...I cannot listen to them. 

In 1975, TJ and I - living in Hartford - tuned in for her broadcast of Nedda in PAGLIACCI. Moffo sounded dreadful, the voice unsupported. "What is she thinking?" I asked TJ. "I guess she feels she still has something to offer," he replied.

In 1979, I was still living in Hartford (but no longer with TJ) when Moffo came to The Bushnell to sing MERRY WIDOW in English. I decided to go, and always regretted it afterwards.

Anna Moffo and Robert Merrill reunited on the Met stage one last time for the Met's 100th Anniversary Gala on October 22, 1983. They sang the duet "Sweethearts" from Sigmund Romberg's MAYTIME. The audience greeted them affectionately, and they managed to get thru their duet without mishap.

I hadn't intended to delve into the story of Moffo's decline when I posted the photo at the top of the article; I prefer simply to remember her lovely performances from the first decade of her Met career. But one thing led to another once I started writing.

One of the most moving passages in her performances as Violetta was her farewell to Alfredo in Act II, when she thinks she will never see him again. In the Beaton production, this was staged so that Violetta came downstage while sustaining the top B-flat and sank to her knees, clasping Alfredo's hand. Here is the phrase - "Amami, Alfredo...!" as Ms. Moffo sang it at La Scala in 1964:

Anna Moffo - Amami Alfredo! ~ TRAVIATA (Live)

And here is Moffo at her best, from a commercial arias compilation, conducted by Sir Colin Davis:

Anna Moffo - TRAVIATA ~ Act I scena (commercial recording)

~ Oberon

Antonín Švorc

Above: Antonín Švorc as the Flying Dutchman; photo by Oldrich Pernica

Antonín Švorc was a Czech operatic bass-baritone. He studied at the Prague Conservatory, making his professional opera debut in 1955, and joined the roster of principal artists at the National Theatre in Prague in 1956. In 1962, Švorc debuted with the Prague State Opera where he performed for the next several decades. In 1985 he was named a People's Artist of Czechoslovakia. After retiring from the stage, he taught at the Prague Conservatory. He passed away in 2011.

Antonín Švorc's repertory was vast indeed. In addition to singing in many Czech operas (including those of Dvořák and Smetana), his oles in the standard repertory included Verdi's Amonasro, Iago, Nabucco, and Simon Boccanegra, Wagner's Dutchman, Hans Sachs, Wotan, Kurvenal, Telramund, and Donner; Strauss's Jochanaan, Orest, and Barak, as well as Scarpia, Alfio, Don Pizarro, Prince Igor, and Boris Godunov.

Above: Antonín Švorc as Simon Boccanegra; photo by Jaromir Svoboda

Czech soprano Ludmila Dvořáková joins her compatriot, Antonín Švorc, in a recording of the final scene of DIE WALKURE (sung in Czech) here.

Švorc gives a dramatic reading of the opening portion of the Dutchman's monolog....

Antonín Švorc - Flying Dutchman ~ monolog

...and in Berlin in 1967, he sang Orestes opposite Ingrid Steger's Elektra, conducted by Otmar Suitner. Here is part I of the Recognition Scene from that performance:

Ingrid Steger & Antonín Švorc - ELEKTRA - Recognition Scene ~ Part I - Berlin 1967

~ Oberon

Janis Martin as Kundry

The American soprano Janis Martin was my first Kundry; she was also my first Sieglinde and Marie in WOZZECK. She was a featured singer at the Bayreuth Festival from 1968 to 1989 where she appeared in nine different roles: Magdalene, Fricka, Eva, the Second Norn, Gutrune, Kundry, Freia, Sieglinde, and Brünnhilde. She returned in for the 1995 and 1997 festivals, again as Kundry.

Janis Martin sang nearly 150 performances at the Metropolitan Opera, commencing in 1962 as Flora Bervoix in TRAVIATA. As a young opera-lover, I heard her many times on the Texaco broadcasts. She eventually progressed to "medium-sized" roles: Siebel, Nicklausse, Lola in CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA. Hearing her in these roles (in which she excelled), one would not have anticipated how her career would develop.

Ms. Martin left The Met in 1965 to build a career abroad, moving into soprano territory. She returned to The Met from 1974 thru 1977, when I saw her as Kundry, Marie in WOZZECK, and Sieglinde. Following another hiatus, she was back at Lincoln Center from 1988-1992, singing the Witch in HANSEL & GRETEL, the Dyer's Wife in FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, Senta, the Foreign Princess in RUSALKA, and two performances of Tosca.

Here is Ms. Martin as Kundry in a scene from the 1973 Bayreuth production of PARSIFAL; Jean Cox sings the title-role, with Eugen Jochum conducting:

Janis Martin - Ich sah das kind ~ PARSIFAL - with Jean Cox - Bayreuth 1973

~ Oberon

Rarity: BUTTERFLY ~ Love Duet

This quite incredible film of the love duet from Act I of Puccini's MADAMA BUTTERFLY is something I stumbled upon by chance. The power - both vocal and emotional - generated by Dorothy Kirsten and Mario del Monaco is simply thrilling to experience! Watch it here. (Note: there are some cuts along the way, obviously for the TV time slot.)

Richard Mayr

The Austrian bass-baritone Richard Mayr (above) made his operatic debut as Hagen in GOTTERDAMMERUNG to critical acclaim at the Bayreuth Festival in 1902; at that time, Cosima Wagner told the young singer: "Mayr, you have been created for the stage!"

His Bayreuth success led to his being engaged as a principal singer at the Vienna State Opera for three decades; it was there, in 1919, that Mayr created the role of Barak in Richard Strauss's FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN. He was also much beloved in another Strauss role: Baron Ochs in ROSENKAVALIER.

Richard Mayr sang at Covent Garden, and he was a mainstay at the Salzburg Festival, appearing there every year there from 1921 until his retirement. Among his many roles were Silva in ERNANI, King Marke in TRISTAN & ISOLDE, Daland in FLIEGENDE HOLLANDER, Rocco in FIDELIO Fidelio, and Prince Gremin in EUGENE ONEGIN.

Richard Mayr - Prince Gremin's aria from ONEGIN (in German)

Mayr was much-admired for his Mozart roles: Figaro, Leporello...and Sarastro:

Richard Mayr - O Isis und Osiris ~ Die Zauberflöte

At the Metropolitan Opera in New York City, Mr. Mayr gave more than forty performances, debuting as Pogner in MEISTERSINGER in 1927. His other Met roles were King Henry in LOHENGRIN, Baron Ohs, the Landgraf in TANNHAUSER, and Hunding in WALKURE.

Richard Mayr as King Henry in LOHENGRIN

Richard Mayr retired from the stage in 1934, and passed away at Vienna the following year.

Richard Mayr sings Schubert's An die Musik

~ Oberon

Scottish Ballet @ The Joyce

Above: from Scottish Ballet's production of Angelin Preljoçaj’s MC 14/22 (Ceci est mon corps), photo by Agathe Poupeney

~ Author: Oberon

Wednesday March 11th, 2020 - Scottish Ballet are back at The Joyce, offering THIS IS MY BODY…, a double-bill of well-contrasted danceworks. Pairing Sophie Laplane’s Sibilo, featuring an original score by Scottish electronic DJ Alex Manzies, with the U.S. premiere performances of Angelin Preljoçaj’s MC 14/22 (Ceci est mon corps) resulted in an absorbing evening of dance wherein humor, tenderness, passion, spirituality, and cruelty were elaments of what might be considered a bi-polar theatrical experience.

The Alex Manzies score for Sibilo abounds in quirkiness and charm: whistling is a key element, and it gave the piece a freshness and touch of irony that made it captivating. Excellent lighting enhanced the ballet at every moment, and the dancing - by a cast of eight - was top-notch. 

Sibilo opens with a tightly-knit, stylized ensemble moving in a pool of light (above, in a Jane Hobson photo). The women's dresses will later be shed, revealing boxer-type undies and nude-illusion tops. The men's open jackets are sometimes on, sometimes off, sometimes in-between: the jackets at times become elements in the partnering.

After a quadruple unison pas de deux, the group breaks apart, dancing a series of solos, duos, and trios to the continually appealing score. The whistling makes us think of cartoon music, and some of the choreography calls for tongue-in-cheek cliché moves and poses. The dancers' physicality brings moments of genuine hilarity, for wit is the watchword here. But things can turn darkish at times: it's a truly human work to watch.

Meanwhile, the music is so inventive: we hear a whistled Baroque adagio and bel canto cabaletta, an acoustic guitar,  plucked strings urging the whistling forward, a whistled cadenza. There's a trio in which two dancers whistle while they dance; the third party becomes aggravated by his own inability to pucker up. There's a sexy/not sexy duet for two men, a fun-filled stylized quartet, a floor-oriented duet for two women. Four duets of varying moods are then danced, and then one forlorn man (Bruno Micchiardi, methinks) has a solo. He joins his cast-mates in a final lineup, but they all rush away, leaving him all by his lonesome at the end.

It was the chance to see my fourth Preljoçaj work that drew me to the performance tonight. Previously, his LA STRAVAGANZA and SPECTRAL EVIDENCE (both for New York City Ballet) and - especially - his ANNUNCIATION (performed by Cedar Lake) have captured my imagination.

A program note for the Preljoçaj - "Juxtaposing the glorification of strength and the condemnation of brutality, religious allusions collide in this raw and powerful work..." - pretty well sums things up. Though by the end of the piece, it was beginning to feel over-extended, the raw power (and occasional vulnerability) of the twelve men who danced it was thrilling to behold. The complex choreography, often closely in-sync, and with demanding partnering throughout, was brilliantly executed.

Drawing on the story of the Last Supper (and thus, the first communion) according to St. Mark, we see eight of the apostles sleeping on tables stacked upon one another; to one side, a man gently and ritualistically bathes a Christlike figure, whilst across the way, a rather devilish fellow (Judas) is up to no good. The soundtrack reminds us of a broken music box, but later seems to be bells, rather randomly played. There is also the sound of whispering.

The slumbering men awaken and, remaining in their beds, they "dance" synchronized moves related to restless sleep. Running water and a deep ominous voice are heard. Rites continue to be performed, and a quartet of black clad men is danced in silence.

To the tone of quiet gongs, the men turn the beds into tables. Under blue neon lights, their rituals are sustained. The atmosphere turns ominous: on each table, corpses are laid out and they are manipulated, sometimes roughly, by attendants. The scene turns quite wild as these ministrations, done in-sync, are carried out. 

Now one long table is constructed, and the men create a series of tableaux - partially bathed in blood-red light - which include violent images and forms of punishment. This continues for some time, to repeated sonic motifs.

Now fights break out, until silence falls. The men, standing with arms in cruciform, react to the sound of one of them chanting. This man is frequently choked, punched, or squeezed causing his voice to gasp and break. But he continues to sing.

Kneeling at the table, the twelve 'speak' in unison gestures. The music turns huge, and militant, as the dancers continue in-sync movement on, off, and under the table. Stripped to black briefs, the Christ-like figure (Mr. Micchiardi again, I believe) executes an off-kilter motif of steps; he is tormented by the Judas figure, who slowly tapes up the limbs of the victim until he is immobilized.

The ballet reaches a perfect ending as the men stand in a line, bathed in funereal light. As the scene fades away, the shadows of time descend. What a final image! But, no...instead, another scene unfolds where the men one by one mount the high-stacked tables and dive into the arms of their companions waiting below. This continues for some time, and is still continuing as the light grows dim. As with so many danceworks, a well-devised ending is passed over in favor of something less powerful.

Nonetheless, most of MC 14/22 (Ceci est mon corps) was so evocative that I continue to hold Mssr. Preljoçaj in high regard.

~ Oberon

Louis Langrée @ The New York Philharmonic

Above: Maestro Louis Langrée

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday March 10th, 2020 - A very familiar figure on the David Geffen Hall podium thru his association with the Mostly Mozart Festival, Maestro Louis Langrée has been giving his New York Philharmonic debut performances with a program of music by Debussy, Ravel, and Scriabin.

Greeted affectionately by the audience tonight, Maestro Langrée chose Debussy's Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune to open the program. We were immediately drawn into this music by the haunting sound of Robert Langevin's flute, which set the tone for an evocative performance. This score, so familiar to me from many hearings at New York City Ballet (where Jerome Robbins' choreography sets the work in a ballet studio), sounded deliciously sensuous tonight. Debussy provides enticing solo passages, not only for the flute but also for clarinet (Pascual Martínez Forteza), horn (Leelanee Sterrett), English horn (Ryan Roberts), and violin (Sheryl Staples). The passion seething just below the music's surface was subtly enhanced in Maestro Langrée's interpretation.  

More Debussy followed: the composer's Nocturnes were inspired by a series of impressionist paintings by James Abbott McNeill Whistler; the composer completed the work in December 1899. Nuages (Clouds) brings plushy strings, brief wind solos, and a hushed tinish. In the more extroverted Fêtes (Festivals), pulsing violas, celli and basses and bright brass carry the day. Offstage trumpets summon us, and a big march springs up, only to fade away.

For the concluding nocturne, Sirènes (Sirens), the Women's Chorus from The Juilliard School, who had been seated among the Philharmonic players, performed the bouche fermée choral passages. Pierre Vallet, a friend of mine from my Tower Records days, was chorus master. The young women sounded lovely, and they were warmly applauded when Maestro Langrée had them rise for a bow at the end. Waves are evoked by the strings and harps, the horns adding a glow to the textures the composer has so persuasively wrought. The work passes like a beautiful dream in which antiquity is evoked. 

Maurice Ravel's Shéhérazade brought forth mezzo-soprano Isabel Leonard, gowned in red. My diary shows that I first heard Ms. Leonard while she was at Juilliard, but my notes at that time indicate that I found her singing pleasant but unremarkable. That's been my continuing feeling about her as her career has positively bloomed in the past few years.

Tonight, her singing of Asie, the opening movement of Shéhérazade, went in one ear and out the other. She was far more effective in the remaining two movements - La flûte enchantée and L'indifférent - but even so, her rather childish behavior during the bows was off-putting. There are so many other singers I would love to have heard in the Ravel tonight; Ms. Leonard was very warmly received, however, so mine is clearly a minority opinion.

Shéhérazade was beautifully played by the Philharmonic, and Maestro Langrée's affection for the score was amply evident. In Asie, especially, there was so much to savour: particularly Sheryl Staples' solo work, and the enchanting tones of the celesta. A flood tide of sound marks the song's ending.

Alexander Scriabin's mystical and voluptuous Le Poème de l’extase provided a grand finish for the evening; neither I nor my companion had heard this work before, and we were both blown away by it. Shimmering harps, flutes, and violins establish the atmosphere, with trumpet and horn adding colours. Briefly animated before calming again, the music flows onward with solos for violin (Ms. Staples), horn (Richard Deane), and clarinet (Mr. Forteza). Fanfare-like motifs sound from the brass, and the music develops a great sense of longing. In a dramatic development, huge walls of sound loom up, with the trumpet pealing forth. Calm is restored, Mr. Forteza and Ms. Staples each have more solo passages to allure the ear.

For a while, the music seems to be sorting itself out. Then, with militant brass and sweeping strings, a  cinematic grandeur music holds sway. A pause, and then shimmering strings, trumpet, and triangle commence a fresh buildup: waves of sound come crashing over us, with chimes adding urgency, and the hall is filled with the enormity of it all. Full stop. The harps and violins commence a full-orchestra crescendo to an epic finish.

Scriabin's wondrous sonic adventure elicited a great ovation at the program's close; the Maestro had the various featured soloists and sections rise for bows, with Philharmonic fans cheering their favorites.

~ Oberon

Lisette Oropesa ~ LA TRAVIATA @ The Met

Above: Lisette Oropesa as Violetta in LA TRAVIATA; photo by Richard Termine

~ Author: Oberon

Monday March 9th, 2020 - Cuban-American soprano Lisette Oropesa has been enjoying a great success as Violetta in the Metropolitan Opera's production of LA TRAVIATA; Wei and I attended tonight, and it's clear that this role suits her to perfection: both vocally and dramatically, she is outstanding.

TRAVIATA is the opera I've seen more than any other. My Violettas have included everyone from Albanese to Zylis-Gara; the last time I counted (a few seasons back) I had seen some sixty different sopranos in this opera, not to mention those experienced on recordings and videos. I know most of the words and all of the notes, and I have very definite ideas about what I want to hear in a performance of this demanding role. To date, Patricia Brooks, Anna Moffo, and Diana Soviero have been the most memorable of my many dames aux camellias, and now Lisette Oropesa enters this elite echelon.

The Met's production would be much more attractive if the Dinseyeqsue techni-colour schemes were toned down. A large bed smack in the middle of the stage means everything must be played around this piece of furniture. The set is otherwise sparsely furnished - desk, piano, a couple of chairs - and these remain onstage throughout. Thus at Flora's party, the men play cards on top of Violetta's pianoforte which in previous scenes had been in the courtesan's Paris townhouse and her country retreat.

The bed is also the site of part of Violetta's interview with Germont père, providing that gentleman an opportunity to make a pass at his son's girlfriend. Frank Corsaro's 1970 production at NYCO also featured such an incomplete pass. But probably the biggest defect in the current Met production is the introduction of Germont's daughter as a silent presence. It doesn't make sense for the upright Germont to bring his virginal teenaged daughter into the presence of a whore: the girl might get ideas. Later, Mlle. Germont witnesses Violetta's death; I kept hoping Alfredo would smack her.

Of course, both preludes are 'staged', but in a way this was not really off-putting. One aspect of the production I really liked was the 'change of seasons" subtly depicted as the story evolved. The ballet, on the other hand, suffered from hideous costumes and awful choreography; still, it was nice to see Barton Cowperthwaite on the Met stage, as a shirtless matador.

The conducting of Bertrand de Billy was dutiful but not inspired, and there were minor failures of communication between him and his singers; usually, I felt, those onstage wanted faster tempi than the maestro was serving up.

For all these misgivings, the overall effect of the evening was of being much more than the sum of its parts: the opera stood emphatically on the power of Ms. Oropesa's interpretation of the title-role. She was extremely moving.

As Lisette began to sing, my mind wandered back to the night I first heard her, in a tiny role in Mozart's IDOMENEO, in 2006. At that time, it was just the intriguing sound of her voice that captivated me; I could not have predicted then all that would transpire for her...all I knew was: this was a voice to love.

Lisette's voice fills the cavernous Met with clarity of tone and a remarkable range of vocal hues; her way with the words captivated me all evening, and she brings numerous individual touches to the music that make it very much her own. In this role, she darkened the tone in certain lower passages - understandably - for dramatic effect, though she really didn't need to as her voice speaks so perfectly in the House without over-emphasis. It almost goes without saying that the coloratura of Act I was delivered with brilliance and a feeling of desperate gaiety as she tries to block out the offstage voice of Alfredo reminding her that "...love is the heartbeat of the universe". 

How I missed, at this point, the emblematic solo bow that all the great Met Violettas of the past have always taken after "Sempre libera"...the bow lights coming up, the gold curtain parting, the soprano - usually both exhausted and elated - stepping out...roses being flung...the roar of the crowd.  Sometimes, an especially beloved Violetta would be called out three or four times. But those days will never return; nowadays, audience members rush up the aisle immediately at the curtain's fall, checking their cellphones.

I'm sure everyone expected the Act I scena to be a tour de force for Ms. Oropesa, but it was in the remaining scenes of the opera, as Violetta's world collapses and her doom is is sealed, that the soprano revealed depths of feeling and emotion that moved me to the core. At "Dite alla giovine...", the phrase with which Violetta capitulates to Germont's demand that she give up his son, Lisette sustained the long note that leads into the phrase, as if knowing that by speaking these words, her fate would be determined. Throughout the duets with Luca Salsi, the evening's very impressive Germont, Lisette made every word and note count. Later, bidding what she believes is her final farewell to Alfredo with "Amami Alfredo...", Lisette poured out the iconic melody with great lyrical intensity.

In the Gambling Scene, where - unfortunately - Alfredo 'showered' Violetta with franc notes rather than hurling them scornfully at her, Lisette's reply to her errant lover's tirade was so simply and directly sung, so full of pain yet also of understanding: Alfredo simply doesn't know what he has done.

In the entire final scene of the opera, Lisette's interpretation of every phrase and gesture ranked with those of the most compelling singing actresses I have watched move though this character's resignation, momentary elation, hope, terror, and despair. Ever the scrupulous musician, Lisette perfectly etched in the written trills at "Ora, son forte...vedi?...sorrido." which are so often glossed over.

Now we come down to the ultimate heartbreak that opera can inflict on us: Violetta gives Alfredo her miniature portrait and bids him find a new love, marry her, and that she - Violetta - will watch over them in heaven. I was actually trembling in my seat. But then, Lisette sent me over the edge with the most poignant speaking of Violetta's final words I ever heard: "È strano! Cessarono...gli spasimi... del dolore...In me...rinasce...m'agita.. insolito vigor! Ah! ma io ritorno a viver! Oh, gioia!!"  

The ensuing ovation was huge, as ovations go these days. I had a momentary vision of Lisette, in her white nightgown, kneeling before a gold curtain in a shower of white roses. That's what she deserved.

Piero Pretti as Alfredo and Luca Salsi as Germont are beloved colleagues of the soprano, so this was in a way a family affair. Both gentlemen were well-cast - with the tenor displaying lovely nuances in the tender passages, fierce (yet musical) fury in his denunciation of Violetta, and a long and ringing top-C to cap "O mio rimorso", whilst the baritone made a perfect duet-partner for Lisette, and brought interesting dynamic shifts and powerful feeling to his expressive "Di provenza". Being from Sardinia and Parma respectively, Pretti and Salsi sounded beautiful in their native language.

Among the rest of the cast, Maria Zifchak and Kevin Short as Annina and Dr. Grenvil stood out. Both are longtime associates of The Met (though Mr. Short was absent for over a decade, returning in 2018 in ELEKTRA) and both were touching and vocally "on" tonight. Baritone Dwayne Croft continues to make his mark at The Met in smallish but important parts; tonight he was the patient but ultimately fed-up Baron Douphol.

Metropolitan Opera House
March 9th, 2020

LA TRAVIATA
Giuseppe Verdi

Violetta.....................Lisette Oropesa
Alfredo......................Piero Pretti
Germont......................Luca Salsi
Flora........................Sarah Larsen
Gastone......................Brian Michael Moore
Baron Douphol................Dwayne Croft
Marquis D'Obigny.............Jeongcheol Cha
Dr. Grenvil..................Kevin Short
Annina.......................Maria Zifchak
Giuseppe.....................Patrick Miller
Messenger....................Ross Benoliel
Germont's Daughter...........Kendall Cafaro
Dancer.......................Barton Cowperthwaite

Conductor....................Bertrand de Billy

~ Oberon

Joélle Harvey @ Chamber Music Society

Above: soprano Joélle Harvey, photographed by Arielle Doneson

~ Author: Oberon

Sunday March 8th, 2020 - Soprano Joélle Harvey, having recently appeared as Pamina in The Met's MAGIC FLUTE, and soon to perform the Mahler 2d with The New York Philharmonic, sang music by Schubert and Chausson as well as the New York premiere of John Harbison's mono-drama IF this evening with Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center. Masterworks by Mozart and Schumann book-ended the program, performed by some of my very favorite musicians.

Played by flautist Adam Walker with Ani Kavafian (violin), Dmitri Atapine (cello), and Che-Yen Chen (viola) - shown above, in Tristan Cook's performance photo  - Mozart's Quartet in D-major, dating from 1777, opened the program.

In three compact movements, the last two joined without pause, this work afforded a wonderful opportunity to again hear Mr. Walker's impeccable and fresh-toned playing: he had charmed us last season in a CMS Baroque music program.  Meanwhile, his string-trio colleagues brought appealing subtleties to their playing.

From his first notes, the flautist's playing felt like the first breath of Spring. In a minor-mode passage in the first movement, Mr. Walker's evocative sustained notes hung on the air. The Adagio follows, with the flute singing a pensive song over delicate pizzicati from the strings. This gracious movement slips elusively away as the lively Rondo immediately springs up. Whilst Mr. Walker's flute shines and shimmers, the string players find even more opportunity to display their range of colour and dynamics. In the span of fifteen minutes, Mozart and these magical musicians have made us forget - at least for this evening - the world and all its woes.

Ms. Harvey then appeared to sing three diverse works which are united by themes of love and its loss. For Schubert's "Gretchen am Spinnrade", Gilbert Kalish was at the Steinway. This was only the second time I have heard this song sung live: the first was at an unforgettable recital by the beloved soprano Elisabeth Söderström in this very hall in 1988. That afternoon, Ms. Söderström lived the song in a devastating performance, with Maestro James Levine at the piano.

Above: Gilbert Kalish and Joélle Harvey performing "Gretchen am Spinnrade"; performance photo by Tristan Cook

Ms. Harvey looked radiant in a cherry red gown; initially her tone seemed a bit clouded, but within seconds all was well and, abetted by the flow of the restless piano figurations (sublimely played by Mr. Kalish), the soprano had me totally under her spell. Her fascinating sense of colour, the intense yet always musical way she 'spoke' the words, her gentle softening of the higher notes, and the thrilling power she summoned at "...sein küss!" - the voice echoing thru the hall in the ensuing silence - were the hallmarks of her engrossing performance.

Above: Ms. Harvey and the ensemble in the Chausson; photo by Tristan Cook

Mr. Kalish was again at the Seinway for Chausson's Chanson perpétuelle; the great pianist was joined by Francisco Fullana and Ms. Kavafian (violins), and Mssrs. Chen and Atapine in the weaving of a sonic tapestry against which Ms. Harvey's voice glowed in the poetry of Charles Cros: a story of the remembrance of a tender romance...and its sudden demise.

Ms. Harvey's singing of the Chausson - her radiant high notes, her canny use of straight tone, and her poetic control of piano/pianissimo demi-tints - made me wish to hear her in Chausson's more expansive work, Poème de l'amour et de la mer, and in the Duparc songs. Mr. Kalish and the string players created a luminous atmosphere, and special mention must be made of Mr. Fullana's ravishing tone.

IF for Soprano and ensemble (CMS Co-Commission, New York Premiere) is a setting by composer John Harbison of the composer's own translation of a text by Friedrich Hölderlin. Mssrs. Walker, Fullana, Chen, and Atapine were joined by the superb clarinetist Romie DeGuise-Langlois, the New York Philharmonic's principal double-bass Timothy Cobb, Michael Brown at the Steinway, and Ian David Rosenbaum highlighting Mr. Harbison's inspired addition of the marimba to the mix. Surrounded by the sounds of this esteemed ensemble, Ms. Harvey displayed her wide range and imaginative use of dynamics in a compelling interpretation.

Mr. Harbison's score commences with a large-scale introduction. His gift for colorful writing for each voice in the ensemble is very much to the fore: the deep bass, the mix of cello, piano, and marimba, the dusky viola (alone, or meshed with clarinet and flute), the tremelo strings -  these kept the ear allured throughout. At the heart of the matter, Ms. Harvey's warm and pliant timbre, with (again) some notes sung in straight tone - and with the hall-filling power she can generate at just the right moments - reached an expressive peak when the musicians suddenly fell silent as she intoned the poem's final line: "...but can you really know?"  A thoughtful postlude brings IF to its conclusion. 

Mr. Harbison was present, and he was called to the stage for a bow, to the audience's warm greeting. He embraced Ms. Harvey warmly; perhaps hers would be the voice for the composer's Mirabai Songs...?  

The evening concluded with Robert Schumann's Quintet in E-flat major for Piano, Two Violins, Viola, and Cello, Op. 44, written in 1842.

Ani Kavafian took the first violin role for this Schumann jewel tonight, playing beautifully, whilst next to her, Francisco Fullana took advantage of the opportunities the composer Schumann afforded him to make his mark. One of the work's most appealing passages comes in a melodic exchange between Mr. Atapine's cello and Mr. Chen's viola, where their subtly contrasted timbres made a fine impression.

Following the hesitant opening of the 'slow march' of the second movement, Mr. Kalish drew us in with playing of eloquent softness. A wistful interlude takes the cello and piano to the depths, and Ms. Kavafian's violin sings sweetly. A sustained tone from Mr. Chen heralds the viola's taking up of the theme. The music becomes so poignant, with Mr. Kalish suggesting from the Steinway that what we are hearing is not music, but memory.

Onward then to the Scherzo: Molto vivace, and the final Allegro, ma non troppo wherein Schumann seems to have taken inspiration from J.S. Bach, with a double fugue in which tonight's players reveled.

The evening ended with a tumultuous full-house standing ovation, the musicians bowing to a most appreciative crowd. Looking about at the upturned faces of these enthusiastic music-lovers, I felt so happy to be part of it.

~ Oberon

Belén Amparán

Born in El Paso, Texas, contralto Belén Amparán (above) studied at the Conservatory of Music in Mexico City, and later in Milan with Adelaide Saraceni. In 1952, she debuted at the Teatro Nuovo, Milan, and in 1956 she made her debut as Giulietta in TALES OF HOFFMANN at the Metropolitan Opera. She sang there until 1968, giving nearly 150 performances in a wide range of roles, including the 1st Norn, La Cieca, Madelon in CHENIER, Preziosilla in FORZA DE DESTINO, Carmen, Suzuki, Maddalena in RIGOLETTO, Annina in ROSENKAVALIER, and Mary in FLIEGENDE HOLLANDER. She created the role of Iras in Samuel Barber's ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, which opened the New Met in 1966. Later that year, she made a vivid vocal impression in the very brief but telling role of the offstage Voice in the third act of Strauss's DIE FRAU OHNE SCHATTEN, which was having its Met premiere.

Ms. Amparán's career was centered in Mexico City, and she also appeared heard at Rome, the Liceu in Barcelona, Naples, Parma, Bordeaux, and Wiesbaden. Her international repertoire included Carmen, Amneris, Azucena,  Ulrica, Orfeo, Fricka, and Dalila. She appeared in an Italian-language film of CARMEN with Franco Corelli and Anselmo Colzani which can be found on DVD.

Belén Amparán passed away in 2002 at Mexico City.

Above: Belén Amparán as Carmen

Belén Amparán - Seguidilla ~ CARMEN - with Franco Corelli - in Italian

Belén Amparán - Voce di donna o d'angelo ~ LA GIOCONDA - with Milanov & Clabassi

~ Oberon