Oberon's Grove

The Tucker Gala @ Carnegie Hall 2023

Above, the artists take a bow at the end of the 2023 Tucker Gala: Sean Michael Plumb, Liv Redpath, Stephen Costello, Howard Watkins, Federica Lombardi, Ben Bliss, Bryan Wagorn, Angela Meade, Quinn Kelsey, Ailyn Pérez, and Soloman Howard. Photo by Dario Acosta.

Author: Oberon

Sunday October 29th, 2023 - The annual Richard Tucker Foundation gala took place this evening at Carnegie Hall. Barry Tucker, son of the illustrious tenor, greeted us and explained that financial considerations had compelled the Foundation to present this year's concert without an orchestra. But soon after the program began, concerns about the lack of an orchestra were assuaged by the excellence of the two pianists who took turns at the Steinway: Bryan Wagorn and Howard Watkins. Bravo, bravo, bravo gentlemen!

Of the announced roster of artists, Angel Blue, Matthew Polenzani, and Christian van Horn had withdrawn, and basso Soloman Howard joined the line-up on short notice.

The program opened with Sean Michael Plumb, a 2022 Tucker Career Grant recipient, giving an excellent rendering of Figaro's  "Largo al factotum", with Howard Watkins at the keyboard providing brilliant support. Mr. Plumb's voice, wide-ranging and handsome of timbre, sounded great in the great Hall. 

Bryan Wagorn played beautifully the Catalani aria "Ebben, ne andro lontana" from LA WALLY, sung by  Angela Meade. The pervasive flutter of the Meade voice has never been to my liking, but this aria suited her far better than some of the roles she has sung at The Met. She sang passionately, summoning some chesty resonances; the singing was mostly unrelentingly loud, missing the nuances that can make the aria so personal. She was very much an audience favorite, both here and - later - in a duet from TROVATORE.  

Soloman Howard, a tall and charismatic basso, offered Fiesco's great aria "Il lacerato spirito" from Verdi's SIMON BOCCANEGRA. His singing was powerful: an emotion-ladened outpouring of a father's despair which becomes poignantly reflective at "Il serto a lei de’ martiri pietoso il cielo diè..."; so engaged was Mr. Howard in the character that one could almost hear the chanting of the mourners from the chapel, even though no chorus was present. The moving final descent at "Prega, Maria, per me..." was heart-breaking in its expressiveness. And Mr. Wagorn at the piano captured the music's atmosphere to perfection.  

New to me, soprano Liv Redpath looked fetching in a ruffled black frock. Rather than the announced Act I aria from LUCIA DI LAMMERMOOR, Ms. Redpath intrigued us with a sterling performance of Ophélie's mad scene from Ambroise Thomas's HAMLET. Assured of technique, with a lovely array of pastels in her colour palette - as well as a silvery, limpid quality to her coloratura - the comely soprano had the Carnegie crowd fully engaged. Mr. Watkins at the piano created the scene's atmosphere from note one.

Bringing his lovely timbre and engaging style to the Duke of Mantua's aria "Parmi veder le lagrime" was the tall, slender tenor Ben Bliss. A Mozart specialist, Ben always manages to combine passion and elegance in his singing. Mr. Watkins was again perfect, setting a properly impatient pace for the cabaletta, "Possente amor mi chiama" ('A powerful love calls me!').

The tall and striking Italian soprano Federica Lombardi, who has won a lot of hearts at The Met with her superb singing of Mozart's Contessa Almaviva, Elettra, and Donna Anna, tonight offered a spellbinding performance of Anna Bolena's mad scene from the Donizetti opera. Clad in an elegant blue gown, the soprano looked queenly indeed, and her long arms and expressive hands seemed to shape the music to touching effect. Following a ravishing "Al dolce guidami", she sang a single verse of the cabaletta "Coppia iniqua!" which was taken a bit too fast and which really needs both verses (and the chorus's interjections) to be really meaningful. Nevertheless, the overall effect of Ms. Lombardi's performance was fascinating.

The next two selections were thrilling: Quinn Kelsey's sustained, gorgeously phrased singing of Macbeth's "Pieta, rispetta, amore" is everything you want from a Verdi baritone. The voice is huge, warm, and awash with a sense of the human spirit: singing that simply reduced me to tears.

Stephen Costello followed Mr. Kelsey with a magnificent rendering of the haunting aria "Deserto in terra" from Donizetti's DON SEBASTIANO. In this aria, Don Sebastiano, king of Portugal, stands alone on a battlefield strewn with corpses and longs for the consolation of his beloved. Mr. Costello's depth of feeling, his passion, and his poignantly styled phrasing went straight to my heart, and his top notes were amazingly clear and sustained. Luciano Pavarotti and John Osborn have given us glorious voicings of this aria, and Mr. Costello's can stand proudly alongside them.

More Donizetti, on a cheerier note, brought us Ms. Redpath and Mr. Plumb in the charming duet of Norina and Dr. Malatesta from DON PASQUALE. They sang it beautifully, not over-doing the comic effects.

Ailyn Pérez sang Butterly's "Un bel di" most attractively, though for me it is an aria that doesn't work very well in concert, being too narrative. Ms. Pérez produced some silky piano moments, exploring the character's vulnerability beneath her steadfast belief in her husband's return. The soprano's gown was something else.

Ms. Lombardi and Mr. Bliss made a very attractive couple - both physically and vocally - in the duet "Parigi o cara" from TRAVIATA. They are well matched in height, and they established an instant rapport, their timbres blending to perfection, their ardent phrasing so savourable. Bravi!  Could we have them together in the Met's next TRAVIATA revival?

Ms. Meade and Mr. Kelsey gave a full-tilt performance of the Leonora/Di Luna duet from TROVATORE...

...and then Mr. Costello (stepping in for the absent Matthew Polenzani) and Sean Michael Plumb sang the affecting, brotherly duet "Au fond du temple saint" from LES PECHEURS DES PERLES with its heartfelt harmonies. The two brought poetic ardor to their singing, their timbres entwining persuasively. They embraced at the end. 

There were encores: Ms. Lombardi in a zarzuela aria which was a bit too long, though finely sung, and Mr. Bliss in a song that was too small-scaled for the big space. Ms. Pérez gave a sensual touch to Manuel Ponce's "Estrillita", with some ravishing pianissimi. Mr. Kelsey and Mr. Costello added further laurels to their vocal triumphs earlier in the evening, the baritone with a mind-bogglingly perfect "If ever I would leave you" from CAMELOT, and Mr. Costello pouring out his heart and soul in a thrilling "Core 'ngrato".

All photos by Dario Acosta, courtesy of the Richard Tucker Foundation. 

~ Oberon

TAKE Dance @ St. Mark's Place

Above: Corinna Lee Nicholson, Lynda Senisi, and Corinne McLoughlin in Jill Echo's If You Find Yourself Missing; photo by Nir Arieli

Author: Oberon

Thursday October 26th, 2023 - TAKE Dance presenting the world premiere of Bamboo Dreams, the latest creation by the Company's Artistic Director, Takehiro Ueyama. Also on the bill: the world premiere of If You Find Yourself Missing by TAKE Dance's Associate Director, Jill Echo.

If You Find Yourself Missing is not only choreographed by Ms. Echo, but she also designed the costumes, and wrote the text, which is spoken by Corinne McLoughlin (above). Comprising the musical setting are The Blue Hour by Federico Albanese and Dna by Akira Kosemura. 

Corinna Lee Nicholson and Lynda Senisi (above) are the dancers, with Ms. McLoughlin joining the dance moves in addition to voicing the text.  This dancework raises the question: "Where is home?" The choreography is restless and poetic by turns, and beautifully articulated by the trio of women.

More of Nir Arieli's images from If You Find Yourself Missing:

Corrine, Lynda, and Corinna take a bow after If You Find Yourself Missing

Take's latest, Bamboo Dreams, is danced to atmospheric music by Ryuchi Sakamoto, who passed away in March 2023. Take first heard Sakamoto's music as a teen-aged baseball player in Japan, and now he honors the composer's memory with this ballet.

It commences with a vibrant, demanding solo for Kristen (Arnold) Bell (above), dancing with her customary authority and perfectly shaping the phrases.

Kristen Bell in Bamboo Dreams; photos by Nir Arieli

There follows a duet for Ms. Nicholson and Orion Duckstein (above). From 1999-2010. Mr. Duckstein was a member of the Paul Taylor Dance Company, where Take also danced for eight seasons.  Orion is a beautiful mover, actor, and super-partner, forming a compelling alliance with Ms. Nicholson, whose lithe beauty and fluent movement are intriguing at every moment.

Photos by Nir Arieli

Lynda Senisi and Kristen Bell now join the Nicholson/Duckstein duo. The ensuing quartet veers from huddling together to space-filling combinations. Each dancer is distinctive; you can focus on them as individuals, assured of their technical prowess and expressiveness.

More of Nir Arieli's images from the quartet:

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Lynda Senisi (above) made a particularly vivid impression in this work...and all evening, actually.

Photos by Nir Arieli

A movement from last season's duet, 10/18/22, now forms the finale of Bamboo Dreams. It opens with a solo for Kristen Bell (above, photo by Nir Arieli).

Watching 10/18/22 for the first time last season, it immediately became one of my favorite dance duets, in part because it is danced so movingly by two of my favorite dancers: Kristen Bell and Corinna Lee Nicholson,  The ballet honored the memory of longtime TAKE Dance board president and friend, James Kraft, who passed away on that specific date; it is danced to solo violin music by J S Bach.

The choreography veers from lyrical to athletic, from serene calm to moments when we might suspect the two women of being a bit deranged. Kristen and Corinna invested all their energy, strength, thoughtfulness, and commitment into this work, to striking effect. A ritualistic scattering of rose petals leaves a poignant impression:

All photos by Nir Arieli.

~ Oberon

Coming Out ~ 50 Years Ago Today

On October 27th, 1973, after spending a very long time in the closet, I had my first gay sexual experience. It was both thrilling and a bit frightening, but what I remember most was a great feeling of relief...and then wondering why it had taken me so long to do it.

That day, I had spent the long afternoon with several of my opera-friends at The Met watching LES TROYENS  It was my first time seeing this monumental work, and it was unbearably exciting. Among the group was Z, the boy I had set my sights on since moving back home from Houston earlier in the year.

Looking back, it all seemed pre-arranged, but at the time it felt spontaneous. After the Berlioz matinee, our friends all went their separate ways. But Z and I had 5th Ring tickets for an evening performance of FAUST at the New York City Opera. He sat in front of me in the single seats, whilst I was aching with desire; at this point, nothing had been said about spending the night together. 

After Marguerite had succumbed to Faust's poetic charms in the Garden Scene, we mutually decided it was time to leave. Z looked at his watch and announced that he'd missed the "last bus" home. Haltingly I said, "You can stay with me at the hotel."

We walked over to the Henry Hudson; nothing much was being said. We stayed up for a while, talking opera, and then it was time. He sat on the twin bed, undressing. "Should I sleep in the chair?" he asked. "I've slept in smaller beds with bigger people..." I replied. (This was a lie; I had only ever slept with my girlfriend, and always in big beds).

So, keeping our briefs on, we got under the covers and turned out the lights. For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. I began to think that maybe I had mis-read the situation and that we were simply going to sleep together. He had his back to me; the warmth and smell of his body were killing me. Suddenly, I put my arms around him, and several wonderful things happened. 

After a while, we grew drowsy. "I've never done this before," I said sleepily. "Me neither!" he replied. Keeping him in my arms, we drifted off.

Waking to daylight, I got quickly out of bed and got dressed: I was meeting friends for breakfast. Z was groggy; he dressed slowly. I assumed he would head home, but - without saying anything - he tagged along to the diner.

Our friends were obviously intrigued when we showed up together, but nothing was said. Only the quiet, bookish TJ looked at me knowingly. The conversation turned to the inevitable topic - opera - and my magical "morning after" became just another day.

The aftermath: in the ensuing weeks, whenever I was in New York City, Z was friendly on the surface, but evasive on a personal level. He stood me up for a couple of lunch dates. I was naive enough to think that, because we had shared a sweet experience, we would become lovers. I became distraught.

Unhappy to the core, I confided in TJ. He listened to my story patiently, then told me that Z already had a boyfriend and that he was unlikely to become the lover I was looking for. TJ and I spent more and more time together, and I became very comfortable with him as my confidante. Finally, I invited him to visit me in the little town. Our first night was awkward: I was such a novice, but he - who was four years younger than me - was already pretty experienced, starting with having been raped by his college roommate. 

Over time, TJ and I developed a deep relationship; he invited me to spend the summer of 1974 with him on Cape Cod, working for a small-time ballet company. At summer's end, I drove him to Sarah Lawrence where his senior year was about to begin.

Our unspoken plan was to resume our lives - he at school and me back in the little town - and see each other whenever I came to the City. As we sat in the car saying goodbye, he suddenly started crying; it was then that I realized how strong our attachment was. Instead of leaving, I spent the night in the dorm with him. I left the next morning, but a few days later I received a letter from him, asking me to come and live with him in the dorm.

This was the beginning of my life, really. When TJ had finished school, we moved to Hartford, where I spent the next 22 years. After a year, our domestic life faltered when I became smitten with someone else. TJ and I had a bad break-up, and he never spoke to me again. I embarked on a long and promiscuous journey, having a strange tendency to fall in love with everyone I slept with. 

Meanwhile, my ultimate goal - to be living in New York City before my 50th birthday - loomed before me. At times, I thought it would never happen; but by a simple twist of fate, I moved to My City three months before the date I had set for myself.

~ Oberon

Rosanna Rolton ~ Chopin's Etude Op 25, No 1

Harpist Rosanna Rolton plays Chopin's Etude Op 25, No 1.

Watch and listen here.

An Evening of Trios @ Carnegie Hall

Performance photo by Chris Lee, courtesy of Carnegie Hall

~ Author: Oberon

Tuesday October 24th, 2023 - Three beloved luminaries of the classical music world joined forces on the Carnegie Hall stage tonight, playing trios by Haydn, Ravel, and Mendelssohn. Pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet, violinist Lisa Batiashvili, and cellist Gautier Capuçon took the stage to a warm welcome from the crowd.

I'm sure the two gentlemen will forgive me if I mention my particular affection for Ms. Batiashvili; I became familiar with her artistry thru her appearances with the New York Philharmonic during Alan Gilbert's tenure. Violinist and maestro formed a particularly cordial musical relationship; their rapport was as lovely to watch as to hear. Tonight, it was wonderful to see Lisa on the Carnegie Hall stage, looking elegant in a black trouser number with black stilettos.

The opening Allegro moderato of the Haydn E-major Trio commences with a plucked motif, which will recur at times as the movement goes forward. In the cantabile passages, the sweetness of Ms. Batashvili's tone was finely meshed with the mellow lyricism of the Capuçon cello, whilst M. Thibaudet at the Steinway produces silvery cascades of notes.

The Allegretto opens with a rather somber unison passages, and then M. Thibaudet begins a long piano solo, with appealing commenting phrases from the violin and cello. Some vivid flourishes near the movement's end carry us on to the final cadence.

The trio's final Allegro has a gently bustling feeling, with the players bringing lovely subtleties to the music. A darkish, minor-key interlude develops into a tempest, and the movement then takes a da capo before reaching a coda with retards and pauses etched in. Beautiful blends of timbres, and a sense of camaraderie among the artists that was lovely to observe.

The players rose for a bow, and then immediately sat down to play Maurice Ravel's Piano Trio.

M. Thibaudet's delicate piano introduction to the opening Modéré creates a sense of mystery. The strings join, and the music develops a gentle sway. Cello and violin exchange brief melodic sentences, and the music grows passionate. Then Ms. Batiashvili spins out exquisite phrases in the violin's highest range; following an agitato interruption. The music turns dreamy.

Ravel titles the second movement Pantoum, which refers to a Malaysian form of poetry.  It is sprightly and dancelike, with the strings conversing. There are some stormy bits, and then an acceleration. M. Thibaudet opens the third movement, Passacaille, with a low, simple theme. M. Capuçon joins, with a hauntingly deep, rather mournful melody, and Ms. Batiashvili brings her magic to a ravishing solo. Passion waxes and wanes, with the music becoming dense and darkish; things quieten for a sustained cello solo, richly played. The piano brings the movement to a close.

The last movement of the Ravel is an Allegro appassionato. It has a high, airy start, luminously played from our trio. The music gets grand. Ms. Batiashvili executes a sustained trill, to which M. Capuçon replies with a trill of his own. At the Steinway, M. Thibaudet's technical wizardry is on display. The music rushes on, restless...and dazzling.  

The Mendelssohn piano trios are the first chamber works I fell in love with, and while the first of the two is my favorite, I am always very pleased to hear either of them played live. Tonight, it was the second that was on offer, played to perfection.

The C-minor Piano Trio finds Mendelssohn at his passionate, rhapsodic finest. The pianist immediately sets the tone with an unsettled opening theme; a second theme - song-like and fervent - takes over, played first by the violin and cello with the piano accompanying. M. Thibaudet is simply marvelous here, and the ebb and flow of the familiar melodies gave a feeling of reassurance.

The piano opens the ensuing Andante, lending a feeling of peace. Violin and cello harmonize with extraordinary beauty of tone, creating a wistful mood. Next comes a true Mendelssohnian delight: a jittery, scrambling Scherzo, to which the players brought pristine technique and spine-tingling nuances. The trio's finale veers from between minor and major modes, with mood swings shifting from agitated to tranquil. Here the perfect blending of the three voices was at its most savourable.

The audience, one of the most attentive and alert in recent seasons, cheered heartily as the musicians took their bows. An encore was demanded: the Vivace from Dvořák's Piano Trio in E-minor, Opus 90. The  music has a gypsy lilt and featured a long solo for Ms. Batiashvili, a remarkably sustained tremelo from M. Capuçon, and an array of delights from M. Thibaudet.

After a couple of weeks of my feeling out-of-sorts, this concert provided a miracle cure. Thank you, Lisa, Jean-Yves, and Gautier!!

Heading out for a bow; photo by Chris Lee

Photo by Chris Lee, courtesy of Carnegie Hall

~ Oberon

John Cage's Ryoanji at the Japan Society

Above: John Cage in Japan; photo by Yasuhiro Yoshioka, Courtesy of Sogetsu Foundation

Author: Shoshana Klein

Sunday October 22nd, 2023 - The Japan Society is doing a John Cage’s Japan series, of which this was the second installment. It was directed by Tomomi Adachi and played by members of the International Contemporary Ensemble.

The premise is very interesting - the performers play John Cage’s Ryoanji, and there is a video with reactive elements. After intermission, the video is played back and the performers use it as a score to perform again. I was left with many questions - though I read most of the program, I think it could have benefited from explanations of some sort.

 

First of all, some musicians were here, and some were in Japan, supposedly. There was a vocalist and a Hichiriki (according to the program) coming from speakers, but we never saw these performers or were introduced to them. It was also 300 AM in Japan, so I’m not sure how likely it was that they were performing live in this performance. They were not present for the second half. Instead, Adachi (I think) performed with the original trio. 

 

It was unclear to me how the video was reactive to the musicians - it was a sort of constellation visual with points of light moving around, and brightly colored lines and shapes would appear, connecting these star-like dots. If the lines and shapes were related to the audio being played, I couldn’t figure out how - my best guess for the video reactivity had to do with the perspective and the amount of movement. For instance, for a while it seemed like the perspective, zoom, and amount of movement of the start may be affected by the musicians, but if so, it seemed to change throughout the performance. It was interesting to try to figure out and they were cool visuals, but relatively static throughout the 20 or 30 minute performance.

 

The piece, musically, was pretty sparse and I had trouble finding structure or latching on to anything, but the musicians obviously played well together and there were moments of responsiveness that were nice. Reading about the score is helpful - it’s not really notated and the performers are basically playing graphic scores of drawings of rocks. It should be noted that I do like John Cage, at least theoretically - I think his ideas and philosophical concepts are very interesting, but sometimes I find it hard to translate that to an enjoyable auditory experience.

 

The second half had significantly more musical movement, though it wasn’t clear how they were using the video as a score, and it appeared that they were also reading music (maybe the original score in combination?). It seemed shorter than the first half but I’m not sure that it was, it could have been my perception since there was so much more to listen for. All in all, an interesting experience that I would have liked to know more about. 

 

~ Shoshana Klein

Tucker Gala ~ 1988

Above: Maestro Anton Guadagno

The usual stellar line-up for the 1988 Richard Tucker Gala.

Watch and listen here.

Philadelphia Orchestra ~ Rachmaninov/Higdon

Above: Sergei Rachmaninov

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Tuesday October 17th, 2023 - The Philadelphia Orchestra was Sergei Rachmaninov’s favorite orchestra. He not only composed multiple works which they premiered, but it was the orchestra he chose to record his symphonies and piano concertos with. And, through the decades, the Philadelphians have played Rachmaninov as well as anyone and better than most.

The orchestra’s current artistic director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, has already recorded Rachmaninov’s complete symphonies and piano concertos (with Daniil Trifonov as soloist) and is continuing his presentation of the works at Carnegie Hall. (In a one-time-only mega event, pianist Yuja Wang and the combination of maestro Nézet-Séguin and Philadelphia Orchestra  performed all the piano iano Concertos and the Rhapsody on the Theme of Paganini at Carnegie Hall in a single memorable concert last season.) On October 17th Nézet-Séguin presented a marvelous evening of two of Rachmaninov’s audience favorite works: the Symphonic Dances and Symphony No. 2.

Rachmaninov composed the Symphonic Dances in 1940 and the Philadelphia Orchestra and Eugene Ormandy premiered it in January of 1941. Apparently Ormandy was not very fond of the work, though he did perform it frequently and record it more than once. 

The first dance opens with a three-note staccato motif, dark - even sinister - in tone, and it remains the driving rhythmic force throughout the movement. An alto saxophone plays a memorable role during the quieter moments (alas the wonderful player is not specified in the Playbill.) Rachmaninov ends the movement with a modified quote from his First Symphony, a work that had been lost 40 years earlier, so he knew nobody would have any idea what they were hearing. (The score was fortunately discovered again, but after Rachmaninov died, so he did not get an opportunity to hear it again after it’s catastrophic premiere led to his composers’ block.) Maestro Nézet-Séguin took a hard-driven, very steady, and deliberate pacing in the beginning of the work, speeding up considerably when the opening theme returned later in the movement.

The second dance is a stilted Waltz that I always thought of a cousin to Ravel’s La Valse. The compositions share an odd limping rhythm, the wistful minor key melodies swirling like aged ballerinas remembering happier days. Perhaps Nézet-Séguin lingered a little too much occasionally here, but always recovered the pulse of the work. The final dance, with its heavy reliance on the Dies Irae (a theme Rachmaninov used in many of his works) fights against a quotation from Rachmaninov’s own All-night Vigil Vespers, as light tries to conquer darkness. It seems the heavens win (Rachmaninov even scribbled “Hallelujah” in the score.) The Philadelphia Orchestra and Nézet-Séguin dazzled all the way through.

The Symphony No. 2 in E minor, Op. 27 is, along with his Piano Concerto No. 2, Rachmaninov’s most beloved work and oft-performed work. A gigantic, lush, deeply Romantic and melodic work was a hit from its premiere (conducted by Rachmaninov himself in St. Petersburg in 1908; the US premiere took place just one year later in - where else - Philadelphia under the composer’s baton.) Maestro Nézet-Séguin’s interpretation was magnificent, sometimes even revelatory. The tumultuous climax of the first movement, with its howling brass, for the first time reminded me of Tchaikovsky’s Pathétique Symphony. The magnificent Adagio movement - with a ravishing melody everyone recognizes - contains a tremendous extensive solo for the clarinet, played by principal clarinetist Ricardo Morales with incredible beauty and tenderness that made you lean forward. The final Allegro vivace movement was a high voltage thrill ride which the orchestra dispatched with effortless aplomb.

I must acknowledge that the concert opened with a performance of Jennifer Higdon’s Fanfare Ritmico, a brief 1999 piece I occasionally thought may have resembled John Adams’ “Short Ride in a Fast Machine.” But the resemblances were fleeting even if they existed. My red flags went up when I looked at the list of instruments used in this 6 minute piece and it contains, as so many contemporary works do, every imaginable percussion instrument there is. Perhaps 2/3 of the instruments listed were percussive. I suppose to Higdon’s credit she does not use them all at once (something others do and never to anybody’s benefit). But she does fall into the same trap countless contemporary composers do where being unable to transition from one theme to another, the easiest path is to have somebody hit something. And so things kept getting hit. When it ended I said to my companion: “Well, whatever that was, they played it very well.”

~ Ben Weaver

Le Concours des Castrats ~ 2021

Music from the golden age of the castrati, performed by Filippo Mineccia, Samuel Mariño, and Valer Sabadus, with the Orchestre de l'Opéra Royal conducted by Stefan Plewniak.

Watch and listen here.

Thomas Schippers Conducts DON CARLO

Thomas Schippers (above) conducts a performance of Verdi's DON CARLO given by RAI Rome in 1969.

Listen here.

CAST:

Don Carlo: Bruno Prevedi

Elisabetta: Teresa Zylis-Gara

Philip II: Nicolai Ghiaurov

Princess Eboli: Fiorenza Cossotto

Rodrigo: Piero Cappuccilli

Grand Inquisitor: Dimiter Petkov

A Monk: Ubaldo Caroli