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José Luis Luri sings Tosti's "Non t'amo piu" with Shlomo Rodríguez at the piano, from a recital given in 2019. I came upon this voice by chance and was very taken with his lovely sound and style.
Watch and listen here.
You can read about the tenor, a native of Alicante, and also about the pianist, in an article from 2022 here.
Music by Verdi, Puccini, and Giordano figure in this Rome Opera Gala, dating from the early 1960s. Floriana Cavalli (photo above), Giuseppe Campora, and Paolo Montarsolo are the featured singers, with Gabriele Santini conducting.
Listen here.
~ Author: Oberon
Saturday July 27th, 2024 - The final offering of Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center's 2024 Summer Evenings series took place tonight at Alice Tully Hall. After a long lunch with friends, where some very serious topics were discussed, I was in a pensive mood when we arrived at the hall. The light, decorative music of Ludwig van Beethoven's Serenade in D-major for Flute, Violin, and Viola, Op. 25, written in 1801, was not a good match for me today, feeling a need for something darker and more soulful.
Nevertheless, the playing was charming and, as the piece progressed, there was much to admire. It kicks off with a reveille, only it's Tara Helen O'Connor's flute that's sending out a wake-up call rather than a bugle. Ms. O'Connor's playing was at its most limpid throughout the suite. ln the songlike second movement, a minuet, her playing was elegant, whilst violinist Aaron Boyd and violist James Thompson provided echo effects. The Allegro molto shifts between major and minor modes.
Sweet harmonies fill the Andante, with its contrasting animated interlude, following by a scurrying Allegro scherzando. The final movement begins as an Adagio but soon transforms into an Allegro vivace, with lively playing from the three artists.
Sean Lee's playing was spot-on, with touches of rubato, and the ensemble cushioned his playing perfectly, grounded by Nick Canellakis's ever-velvety tone.
Following the interval, Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst's demanding Grand Caprice on Schubert's “Erlkönig” for Violin, Op. 26, was given a spirited rendering by Sean Lee, though perfect clarity was sometimes missing.
So ended an unusual experience for me, wherein I strove to adjust my own state of mind to the program on offer; this had only happened to me a few times over the years - and mainly at the opera - where you have a ticket for ELISIR D'AMORE but are really in the mood for WOZZECK...or vice versa.
~ Oberon
Above: Carla Gavazzi as Santuzza
I love this old RAI film of Mascagni's CAVALLERIA RUSTICANA sung and acted in Olde School verismo style by Carla Gavazzi (Santuzza),
Doro Antonioli sings Andrea Chenier's Improviso, "Un dì all'azzurro spazio", from Act I of the Giordano opera.
Listen here.
~ Author: Oberon
Tuesday July 23rd, 2024 - It's been a while since I last saw Pilobolus, and it was truly revelatory reconnecting with this unique, legendary dance company tonight at The Joyce. The season celebrates re:CREATION, a brilliant collection of works - old and new - from Pilobolus's 50-year history which were offered on two specially-devised programs.
Tonight's program, entitled Dreams, featured five works; and while at times things seemed too same-y and certain passages went on too long, the cumulative force of the evening was incredibly powerful and meaningful on a personal level. Six dancers carried the entire evening, their awesome athleticism and boundless energy meshed with an innate sense of poetry and unstinting commitment to the work.
The program opened with Thresh|Hold, from Latinx choreographer and designer Javier De Frutos; several other names are listed in the program as collaborators. To shimmering music, the curtain rises on a closed door, which will become the epicenter of the piece. A rather haggard woman (the program tells us it's either Marlon Feliz or Hannah Klinkman - not very helpful to someone attempting to write a review) opens the door and sits on the stoop; a male body is then thrown out onto the ground, and all hell breaks loose. The four men in the cast might be gestapo or just random trouble-makers. People chase each other about, torment the woman (or one another), whilst the door itself is the main character - spun about the stage, opened and closed at high speeds, allowing light to shine thru from varying angles. All this was handled with pinpoint timing by the dancers,
As the piece unfolds, we hear a fractured recording of the Casta Diva from Bellini's NORMA, merged with other noises, sometimes harsh or otherworldly. After the pitch of the aria sags and becomes incoherent, the melody resumes - now voiced by the inimitable Maria Callas, whose version has been used in numerous danceworks over the years...if you've never heard it, here it is.
The dancework, nightmarish and somewhat incoherent, was engrossing to watch; the use of the door was truly clever and impressive. The woman (I believe it was Ms. Feliz) seems desperate to escape but is always thwarted, sometimes in mid-air. A men's quartet near the end, with lifts, was oddly lyrical. The audience seemed captivated, and applauded heartily, but there were no bows.
The New York City premiere of the duet Bloodlines followed; an epic love duet that packs a heart-rending wallop. Choreographed by the co-directors of Pilobolus, Renée Jaworski and Matt Kent, in collaboration with Ms. Feliz and Ms. Klinkman, who danced it together. The luminous 'music-of-the-spheres' score is attributed to five composers: Andre Heller, Michael Gordon, Elisapie Isaac, Eva Reiter, and Meredith Monk.
Gorgeously lit by Diane Ferry Williams, Bloodlines was hypnotically danced as red rose petals fell from the sky. The two women, lovers, seem to retell the story of their love; they strike poses and move to jagged rhythms until a partnership is formed.
To the sentimental sound of an old 78 recording for violin and piano, they become increasingly intimate, one dancer cradling the other. But something is amiss; thru age or illness, one of the women expires, leaving her beloved bereft. The two dancers brought so much beauty and poetry to this duet, making the end unbearably poignant.
Still recovering from the emotional pull of Bloodlines, the deeply moving male quartet Gnomen sustained my intense involvement in what we were seeing and hearing. A tolling bell signals the opening of Gnomen, wherein we encounter a brotherhood of gnomes: ageless, deformed dwarves out of folklore who live in the earth.
The four - Connor Chaparro, Quincy Ellis, Sean Langford, and Derion Loman - wear black briefs; they move hesitantly, seemingly in pain, with their bodies disfigured. They seem to be downtrodden victims of fate. Helping one another, their entwined figures struggle to walk. They appear to pray, and now the chime sounds louder: they move spastically, like contorted acrobats.
The choreography is extremely athletic, strenuous, and demanding, and the dancers took it all in stride. Clockwork music and a dreamy harp are heard as the quartet attempt entwined tumbling. The sounds of the marimba transform to a melodious finish, with a sense of healing for the hapless creatures as the chimes sounds again. The seemingly healed gnomes kneel in prayer.
After a longish intermission, Symbiosis - choreographed by Michael Tracy in collaboration with Renée Jaworski and Otis Cook - opens with thunder and lightning. To the music - a collage of pieces by Thomas Oboe Lee, George Crumb, Arvo Pärt, and Jack Body, played by the Kronos Quartet - dancers Marlon Fritz and Quincy Ellis, nearly nude, perform a sensuous duet. The elasticity and grace of their bodies develop an intimacy underscored by Mr. Pärt's languid, beguiling Spiegel im spiegel wherein the dancers tenderly see-saw in an embrace. The dancers' athleticism takes on a poetic aspect as we surrender to the tender beauty of their entwined bodies.
Closing the program was Rushes, Pilobolus's first collaboration with Israeli choreographers Inbal Pinto and Avshalom Pollak, and while it was overly-long and rather less engaging than the other works, there was an undercurrent which kept me focused.
Circus music heralds the rise of the curtain, and we find five dancers - Mlles. Feliz and Klinkman and Mssrs. Chaparro, Ellis, and Langford - seated in wooden chairs in a circle of light. They seem to be waiting for something - a flight, perhaps? To the sound of rushing water, playful renderings of "Mary had a little lamb" and "Oh, they don't wear pants on the sunny side of France" are fleetingly heard.
Whimsical partnering, endless bouts of musical chairs, comic vignettes, and walkabouts come into play, but we don't understand who these people are and what they are hanging about for. One character, played by Quincy Ellis, is an endearing elderly man with a suitcase full of dreams. In the end, the chairs are set in a row and the old man walks along them as the other dancers hastily move the seats so that his path remains endless. At the end. we again hear Arvo Pärt's Spiegel im spiegel - all of it - which seemed to drag out the end of an otherwise engaging evening.
~ Oberon
Above: Michelle Dorrance
~ Author: Oberon
Sunday July 21st, 2024 matinee - Michelle Dorrance's SHIFT was another hit in the Joyce Theater's mostly marvelous 2023-2024 season, which is now drawing to a close. The hour-long work was ideally lit by Kathy Kaufmann, with sound design by Christopher Marc, and casual costuming organized by Amy Page. Ms. Dorrance's choreographic designs are a collaborative venture with her dancers, extending to improv.
To say that the dancing was sensational and thoroughly captivating is an understatement; adding to the vibrancy of the show were segments when some of the dancers took up musical instruments and regaled us with their impressive playing...to say nothing of a couple top-notch vocalists.
Before the house lights went down, the dancers appeared on the bare stage and began warming up - randomly at first, but then forming a circle and delivering individual tap motifs in turn as the others kept rhythm. This drew the audience deeply into the world of tap.
Once the house lights are out, it's a hopeless task to take notes at The Joyce. But I've done my best to salvage what I could from my over-written pages.
The 'formal' program began with the first of six sections, entitled Dedicated To You, after the Sammy Cahn song, which was performed live by Ms. Dorrance (ukelele), Claudia Rahardjanoto (bass), with vocals by Ms. Rahardjanoto and Addi Loving, and danced by the Company's male dancers - Sterling Harris, Luke Hickey, and Leonardo Sandoval - along with Elizabeth Burke and Ash Griffith is a smooth, swaying style. One of the singers soon joined the dancers whilst the other began whistling...such a fresh feeling, meshing music and dance in an imaginative union.
There followed the little glass ii and the little glass ii remix, which sort of flowed together into one continuous number. An especially intriguing segment was a male solo in which the dancer was followed about by a wheeled spotlight; after a bit, the dancer and the light-man switched places. The music takes on a psychedelic aspect; the lighting turns blood-red. Phrases are passed about, from dancer to dancer. Michelle Dorrance has a solo, which the other dancers observed from chairs ranged around the space. Michelle resumes playing her ukelele, but the music turns into a deep rumbling.
I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire, with Ms. Dorrance singing lead to her ukelele accompaniment, backed by Ms. Loving, Asha Grffith, and Elisabeth Burke; their harmonizing was terrific. The male dancers have a trio which morphs into an octet, danced in a pool of light. Competition and camaraderie vie, to rhythmic clapping.
Elizabeth Burke seated herself at the grand piano for Moon, with Ms. Rahardjanoto on bass and Ms. Loving doubling piano/percussion. This followed by Ymir, to recorded music by Dawn of Midi. But I'd been forced to abandon note-taking in the dark, and so I just sat back and watched as the dancing continued - by turns subtle and sensational - from which I derived great pleasure. I began to feel a blessèd assurance in an uncertain world.
I'd expected a grand finale, a veritable tempest of tapping, but instead the performance ended on a purely musical note, with a song that hit me like a tsunami: That's The Way It Is, by Alex Kramer and Joan Whitney; it just happened to perfectly reflect the emotional state I've been in of late. I have to include some of the lyrics here, so that I'll always know where to find them:
In the playbill, Ms. Dorrance offered the following note, in which she hit several nails on the head, reminding us of what's at stake for our country in the weeks to come. I felt compelled to scan it and share it here:
There were no curtain calls, and as the lights came up I realized what a sense of community had enveloped us during the show. I could easily have watched it again...immediately.
~ Oberon
Above: Elena Mauti-Nunziata as Violetta
The death of the Italian soprano Elena Mauti-Nunziata has been reported. An interview with the soprano, conducted by Bruce Duffie, dates from 1983 and provides details of her career. Read it here.
Watch a film of a performance of TRAVIATA given in Madrid in 1977 with Elena Mauti-Nunziata, Alfredo Kraus, and Vicente Sardinero in the principal roles. Unfortunately, part of Act II (including "Di Provenza") is missing, and the video quality is middling. But it's a valuable document of Ms. Mauti-Nunziata in one of her finest roles. Watch and listen here.
Elena Mauti-Nunziata sang several performances of Mimi, Violetta, and Nedda at The Met from 1977-1979. I'm not sure how I managed to miss them. In 1982, I caught the last act of a broadcast of MADAMA BUTTERFLY from Dallas and was much taken with Ms. Mauti-Nunziata's rendering of the opera's final scene:
Elena Mauti-Nunziata - Morte di Butterfly - Dallas 1982
In 1985, I saw Ms. Mauti-Nunziata onstage for the only time: as Violetta at The Bushnell in Hartford, Connecticut. She gave a memorable portrayal.
Above: as Francesca da Rimini, with Nicola Maritnucci
Above: Elena Mauti-Nunziata greets Maria Callas at the opening night of La Scala, 1970
Update: This scene from Act IV of TROVATORE from Verona 1985 has just surfaced on YouTube. Listen here.
The sound quality is mediocre, but I love the way Mauti-Nunziata spins out those ethereal high notes in the aria. After a Miserere where the recordist had some problems, we hear the cabaletta. (It's best to listen with headphones.)
Giuliano Ciannella sings Manrico, and Reynald Giovaninetti conducts.