Oberon's Grove

At The Old Met ~ Part I

Above: The Old Met (1883-1966)

Author: Oberon

As a teen-aged opera-lover living in a tiny town six hours from New York City (by bus or train), I often felt very far-removed from my beloved art form. During those early years of my operatic obsession, I maintained a connection with The Met via the Texaco-Metropolitan Opera radio network, never missing a broadcast. For me, those broadcasts were far more meaningful than going to church.

In the Autumn of 1963, my parents very kindly planned a trip to New York City which would include my first visit to the Met. I ordered the tickets by mail and was so excited when they arrived; I was going to go alone (!) to DON GIOVANNI, and my parents would come with me on the second night, to see FAUST.

By a twist of fate, our trip to New York followed by only a few days the assassination of John F Kennedy. We'd been following the whole story on TV, and my brother and I were watching "live" when Jack Ruby stepped out of a crowd and shot Lee Harvey Oswald. A pall was thus cast over what should have been my happy first visit to The Met. But once in the dilapidated but - to me - awe-inspiring hall, everything else faded to insignificance. 

Knowing they'd be moving uptown to Lincoln Center, The Met was putting no money into maintaining the venerable House on 39th and Broadway. Paint was peeling, seat cushions torn, small bits of gilt-work and even lighting fixtures had been torn off the walls as souvenirs. Everything looked dusty and drab.

Where I was sitting, high up and on the side, the singularly uncomfortable seats allowed very little legroom. On the back of each seat, a small metal box was attached that contained cheap opera glasses; by depositing a quarter, you could use these during a performance. Many of these boxes had by now been torn off and smuggled out as mementos; those that remained were dented and disfigured by people prying them open to avoid the twenty-five cent fee. Hardly any of them still contained the small binoculars.

From my perch, I was particularly taken by my view of the proscenium, which was by now coated with dust and grime but somehow still beautiful. Amidst the decorative carved wreathes and furbelows were the plaques bearing the names of six great operatic composers: Gluck, Mozart, Beethoven, Wagner, Gounod, and Verdi. Puccini and Strauss had not yet made their mark in the opera world when those names were chosen.

The house lights dimmed, and my first Met performance commenced:

The DON GIOVANNI production was by designed by Eugene Berman (the Banquet Scene, above); I was duly impressed on seeing them in the House. The Berman sets traveled to Lincoln Center with the Company, and were utilized there until a Franco Zeffirelli production replaced them in 1990.

The very first voice I heard in the great Old House was that of basso Ezio Flagello (above), singing Leporello in DON GIOVANNI. Flagello had a wonderful voice; he sang more than 500 performances with The Met, including opening night of the New House, between 1957 and 1984.

Ezio Flagello - Madamina il catalogo è questo ~ DON GIOVANNI

Donna Anna and Donna Elvira were sung by two of the premiere Mozart sopranos of the day: Teresa Stich-Randall and Lisa Della Casa.

Teresa Stich-Randall was the only singer I mentioned in my very brief diary entry the morning after the performance. Years later, when I was living in Connecticut and Ms. Stich-Randall had returned there to care for her aging mother, we had a brief correspondence; but a planned meeting never materialized due to a big blizzard.

Teresa Stich-Randall - Non mi dir ~ DON GIOVANNI

Lisa Della Casa was one of the most beautiful women ever to grace the operatic stages of the world. I saw her a second time as Donna Elvira at the New Met, during the first season there: she sounded wonderful and looked lovelier than ever.

Lisa della Casa - Don Giovanni ~ Ah Fuggi il Traditor!

Giorgio Tozzi was Don Giovanni; his was one of the first operatic voices I had become familiar with as he sang arias from NABUCCO and SIMON BOCCANEGRA on the first opera LP I ever owned. He was one of my favorite singers; I had heard him on so many broadcasts prior to this first "live" encounter. A few years later, he was my first Hans Sachs.

Here's Giorgio Tozzi as Mozart's nicer protagonist:

Giorgio Tozzi - Non più andrai ~ NOZZE DI FIGARO

George Shirley sang Don Ottavio, his first appearance in the role. Mr. Shirley's pliant lyric tenor made him a favorite with Met audiences; he chalked up some 275 performances with the Company in New York City and on tour between 1961 and 1972. His career has been ongoing: in 2018, he sang the Emperor Altoum in TURANDOT in a concert performance with the Detroit Symphony.

A souvenir of George Shirley in another Mozart role:

George Shirley - Un 'aura amorosa ~ COSI FAN TUTTE

The very fine baritone Calvin Marsh (Masetto) and basso John Macurdy (The Commendatore) also sang on my first Met evening. Mr. Macurdy went on to give a thousand of performances with the Metropolitan Opera Company, and was my first-ever Narbal (TROYENS) and King Marke (TRISTAN UND ISOLDE). 

And I was quite taken by the Brazilian soprano Neyde Thomaz, who sang prettily as Zerlina. Although four Zerlinas were the sum total of her Met career, she was a beloved singer in her native land. As of this writing, she is still with us, and has 9,000+ fans on Facebook. 

I must admit that, at this point in my opera-loving career, conductors did not make a great impression on me. In truth, I did not know the operas well enough to form an opinion of how well they were conducted; that would change slowly over the ensuing years.

But I did recognize the names of my first two Met conductors from their broadcast performances: Joseph Rosenstock was on the podium for DON GIOVANNI, and the following night Fausto Cleva conducted FAUST:

Like Neyde Thomaz in DON GIOVANNI, Nicoletta Panni (above) - my first Marguerite - had a four-performance Met career: two Mimis and two Marguerites. I loved her! In my diary, I singled her out for her lovely voice and her moving acting in the opera's final scene. And I can still see her, clad all in white, kneeling to the applauding audience before the iconic gold curtain. It was at that moment that I realized that my dream had come true, and that I was now witnessing live the bows that been described so many times by Milton Cross on the Saturday broadcasts. A sample of Ms. Panni's singing here.

And I also very much liked the singing of Richard Verreau (above), making his debut on short notice as Faust, replacing Barry Morell. Morell was at that point the tenor I knew best, from his Met broadcasts and his performances at Cincinnati Summer Opera. Mr. Verreau's singing was so stylish, his tone so appealing; I assumed he would continue to perform at The Met after such a fine debut. But after two MANONs and an evening of opera arias and duets at Lewisohn Stadium, he, like Mlles. Thomaz and Panni, did not sing with The Met again.

Here is Mr. Verreau, as the other Faust:

Richard Verreau - La Damnation de Faust ~ Nature immense

Jerome Hines was the evening's Méphistophélès, and my diary mentions his acting but not his singing. If memory serves, Hines was going thru a bad patch vocally at this particular point in his career. He re-bounded and went on singing into his 80s.

Here's Mr. Hines in a bit of the Verdi REQUIEM...an antidote to the devilry in FAUST:

Jerome Hines - Mors stupebit ~ Verdi REQUIEM

As Valentin, Croatian baritone Vladimir Ruzdak impressed me: his voice was dark-timbered and powerful. His career at The Met comprised sixteen performances over a two-year stretch. He continued to perform often in Europe, and later directed opera and even did some composing. Mr. Ruzdak recorded several arias in his native tongue, among which I especially like this:

Vladimir Ruzdak - Nemico della patria ~ Andrea Chenier (in Croatian)

Marcia Baldwin was my Siebel; I liked her aria a lot. Many years later, when I was working at Tower Records, Marcia came in with her longtime companion. My boss, Bryan, and I chatted them up. Great people! Thereafter, they would always come by whenever they were in town.

It was nice to see onstage - as Marthe and Wagner - Gladys Kriese and Louis Sgarro, two singers who I'd heard many times on the Met broadcasts. FAUST has a long ballet, which bored me to tears.

Writing about these two performances, it's interesting that so many briefly flashing "Met comets" appeared on these back-to-back evenings. Even Ms. Stich-Randall, who had a huge career in Europe and made some important recordings, only sang 24 times at The Met, and in only two roles: Fiordiligi and Donna Anna. But while singers like Mlles. Panni and Thomaz and Msssr. Verreau and Ruzdak may be largely forgotten today, to me their voices really meant something.

[This was originally going to be one long article about all my experiences at the Old Met, but I can see now that it needs to be done in two or three installments. Still to come, all in 1965: COSI FAN TUTTE, TURANDOT, IL TROVATORE, MADAMA BUTTERFLY, ELISIR D'AMORE, and another FAUST. Stay tuned for Part II.]

~ Oberon

Lydia Johnson Dance ~ Retrospective - Part III

Above: dancers Anthony Bocconi and Laura Di Orio in rehearsal

Continuing this series of photo retrospectives of Lydia Johnson Dance: in the Summer of 2013, the Company danced twice at the Great Friends Dance Festival in Newport, performing IN CONVERSATION and NIGHT OF THE FLYING HORSES.

Autumn 2013 marked the start of preparations for the Lydia Johnson Dance 2014 New York season which would bring together a repeat of NIGHT AND DREAMS, danced to Schubert lieder, and the premiere of BARRETTS MILL ROAD - A REMEMBRANCE, set to Mozart; IN CONVERSATION and NIGHT OF THE FLYING HORSES were also on the bill. 

During this rehearsal period, ballet mistress Deborah Wingert (above) continued her invaluable work with the dancers. The Company's center of operations was mainly in a large, rather dilapidated but oddly atmospheric studio in the basement of the Gelsey Kirkland Dance Center.

At a salon presentation in November 2013, friends of the Company got their first look (above) at Lydia's most personal ballet to date; Richard Curtis, friend and patron of Lydia Johnson Dance, had suggested to Lydia the music that became BARRETTS MILL ROAD - A REMEMBRANCE: Mozart's Fantasia in C Minor and the Adagio from the C-Minor piano sonata. Ever-evocative, Mozart's music became a reverie on Lydia's memories of her mother, who passed away during the time the work was being created. 

The roster of the Company had continued to evolve. By this time, Jessica Sand Blonde and Lisa Iannacito McBride had moved away, and 2014 was to be Kerry Shea's last season with Lydia Johnson Dance. But 2014 also brought a new dancer into the fold: Chazz Fenner-McBride.

Above: Chazz Fenner-McBride and Laura Di Orio, photo by Dmitry Beryozkin

Lydia e-mailed me to say: "I've found a new guy, Chazz Fenner-McBride; do you know him?" Well, yes, actually: Chazz had already made an indelible impression on me in Robin Becker's INTO SUNLIGHT.

Chazz and Min Kim (rehearsal photo, above) formed a partnership that became a keystone of much of the dance that Lydia would create in the ensuing seasons.

At a Spring 2014 salon event, LJD board president Steven Cramer interviewed Deborah Wingert

Rehearsal images:

Laura Di Orio, Katie Martin-Lohiya

Carlos Lopez, Kerry Shea

Laura Di Orio, Anthony Bocconi

Eric Williams

Eric and Kerry

Lisa Borres, Min Kim

Laura Di Orio

Eric and Kerry

Scenes from the 2014 New York season:

Katie Martin-Lohiya in BARRETTS MILL ROAD - A REMEMBRANCE; photo by Nir Arieli

Laura Di Orio: IN CONVERSATION; photo by Nir Arieli

Eric Williams, Kerry Shea: IN CONVERSATION; photo by Nir Arieli

Kerry Shea, Carlos Lopez: NIGHT AND DREAMS; photo by Nir Arieli

Chazz Fenner-McBride, Katie Martin-Lohiya, Blake Hennessy-York, and Sarah Pon in NIGHT AND DREAMS; photo by Dmitry Beryozkin

NIGHT OF THE FLYING HORSES: Kerry Shea and Eric Williams; photo by Nir Arieli

The Company takes breaks, but the music and dance continues in our heads from season to season.

Two new ballets, and the presence of some new dancers, marked the rehearsal period for the 2015 season. The new works were WHAT COUNTS, a jazzy piece to music by The Bad Plus, and GIVING WAY, Lydia's second work to music by Osvaldo Golijov.

Rehearsals were mainly held at the Gelsey Kirkland studios; I dropped in frequently, sometimes bringing a photographer, and there was a vibrant buzz of creative activity.

These studio images by Dmitry Beryozkin:

Reed Luplau sometimes taught Company class...

...in which Chazz Fenner-McBride and Oliver Swan-Jackson honed their technique.   

Joining - only for one season, sadly - were Katie Keith and Grant Dettling.

Preparing WHAT COUNTS: Blake Hennessy-York and Sarah Pon

Brynt Beitman - a friend of mine from TAKE Dance - was also new to LJD; above, he's with Laura Di Orio, Blake Hennessy-York, and Sarah Pon.

My own photos will never win any awards, but they are nice mementos for me of the individual dancers:

Brynt Beitman, Laura Di Orio

Katie Lohiya, Oliver Swan-Jackson

Chazz Fenner-McBride, Min Kim

Grant Dettling, Sarah Pon

Blake Hennessy-York

Laura Di Orio

The performances in June 2015, were photographed by Nir Arieli:

A stylized trio of women - Sarah Pon, Laura Di Orio, and Katie Lohiya - brought irony and sparkle to WHAT COUNTS...

...in which Blake Hennessy-York and Sarah Pon shone as the antagonistic (but later celebratory) lovers.

GIVING WAY was another LJD success; above, Brynt Beitman and Blake Hennessy-York in an athletic duet

Chazz Fenner-McBride and Min Kim in GIVING WAY

UNTITLED BACH was revived (Sarah Pon and ensemble, above)...

...with Chazz Fenner-McBride and Blake Hennessy-York taking on the duet for two men

And the Mozart score - and some new faces in the cast - made BARRETTS MILL ROAD: A REMEMBRANCE doubly welcome in its second season. Above: Sarah Pon and Grant Dettling

~ Oberon

Pianist Javier Perianes|ORPHEUS @ Carnegie Hall

Above: pianist Javier Perianes

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday January 12th, 2019 - This highly enjoyable evening with ORPHEUS brought an impressive new work, some delicious Dvořák, and fresh reminders (if reminders are needed) that there's nothing quite like Mozart as an antidote to the feelings of gloom and impending doom that infect our lives in these uneasy times. 

An ORPHEUS commission, James Matheson's Still Life, opened the concert. Hearing new music live in a concert setting invariably produces one of two reactions from me: "Will this never end??" or, "I want to hear this again!" For Still Life, it was definitely the latter.

After an electrifying start, the music gives way to percolating winds; then dense strings take over and pursue a sort of back-and-forth with the winds. Over a deep-bass pacing, colourful textures and rising motifs glow. Animated string rhythms support themes for violins, viola, and horn; things subside to a slow cello pulse. 

Searing, piercing clarinets and bubbling horns are heard; a single sustained note leads to urgent, cinematic music. A deep, relentless treading is felt as things turn rather gloomy; but there's also a sense of striving and a developing richness. The deep pace, now feeling more optimistic, is overlaid by sheer gorgeousness. The sudden exclamation point of a jagged, almost violent, chord makes for an unexpected ending.

Mr. Matheson was summoned from his seat to take a bow, but the movable stairs at either side of the stage were not in place, so he settled for a handshake with the concertmaster and a bow from the Parquet level. The applause was very cordial; I feel that Still Life could find a place in the repertoire of many orchestras. Tonight it proved its value as a stimulating program-opener. 

Pianist Javier Perianes then joined the chamber orchestra for Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 27 in B-flat Major, K. 595. The very long orchestral introduction to this work was so handsomely played by the musicians of ORPHEUS, and then Mr. Perianes made his entrance and quickly established himself as a master of the art of drawing an audience in to the music. As he sent the festoons of delicate fiorature gently into the hall, the the magic of Mozart became palpable. When a misterioso passage arose, his playing left me breathless. Later, cascades of notes flickered off the keyboard like shimmering gems. In the cadenza, sometimes drawing the sound down to a whisper, he held the house under a spell.

 

The concerto's Larghetto begins with a calm, almost reverential piano solo. The horns lead the ensemble in; the musicians give the pianist perfectly meshed support. Throughout this heavenly slow movement, Mr. Perianes's control of the piano/pianissimo spectrum was beguiling. A marvelously sustained bassoon note, and superbly nuanced, hushed trills from the piano made Carnegie Hall feel like the center of the universe.

 

The pianist did not linger, though: he plunged immediately into the closing Allegro. His lively, charming playing, and his flawless feel for nuance, were captivating. As he played the cadenza, the sense that my reverie would soon be over made each note the more savorable.

 

As an encore, Mr. Perianes chose music in perfect contrast to his elegant Mozart: Manuel de Falla's Ritual Fire Dance. Played with passion and flair, this piece showed off the pianist's unbridled virtuosity, and drew cheers from the crowd.

 

Following the interval, the New York premiere of Dennis Russell Davies's arrangement of Dvořák's Bagatelles, Op. 47 found the players of ORPHEUS on luminous form. Originally played on a harmonium, these five miniatures simply glow in the Davies settings. Zesty folkish themes abound. Of particular note were the lovely winds at the start of the Canon: Andante con Moto, and the gypsy dance that springs up in the concluding Poco allegro; here, a contrasting minor-key interlude provided a bit of a twist, only to resume the dance and accelerate to the finish.  

 

A Mozart symphony - No. 33 in B-flat Major, K. 319 - was a perfect ending to the concert. I stopped taking notes and let the music take me where it would. I found myself gazing for a long time around the Hall, feeling grateful that it's still here and still so wonderfully alive.

 

A wild and wonderful Dance of the Furies from Gluck's ORFEO ED EURIDICE was the exhilarating encore. At its end, the players of ORPHEUS stepped forward and formed a line stretching across the Carnegie stage while the audience rose and hailed them enthusiastically.

 

~ Oberon

An All-Brahms Evening

~ Author: Oberon

Friday January 11th, 2019 - My pianist/friend Melody Fader organized this evening of music by Johannes Brahms down at Greenwich House in the West Village; Melody was joined for the Op. 91, Two Songs for contralto, viola, and piano by mezzo-soprano Re'ut Ben-Ze'ev and violist Stephanie Griffin, and for the Piano Quintet, op. 34, by the excellent Momenta Quartet, of which Ms. Griffin is a member.

The intimate salon/hall at Greenwich House is perfect for chamber music, but it may now be too small for Melody and Company: the house was literally packed, to the point where the folding doors to a small connecting room were opened so more music lovers could be accommodated. People stood, or sat on the floor; but despite the crowding, it was one of the quietest and most focused audiences I've been part of in many moons.

Brahms's two "viola songs" are not often programmed; in fact, this was only my third opportunity in all my decades of concert-going to hear them performed live. Standing as we are at the dawn of the Age of Women, how pleasing to see the three striking young ladies who took the stage tonight: Melody in a red gown, Ms. Ben-Ze'ev with her long blonde hair (Botticelli would have loved her!), and Ms. Griffin in shades of blue, holding her viola, poised to make music. 

The two songs, each abounding in melody, are Gestillte Sehnsucht ("Appeased Desire") and Geistliches Wiegenlied ("Sacred Cradle-Song"); the texts are by Friedrich Rückert and Emanuel Geibel respectively. Ms. Ben-Ze'ev's violet-tinged timbre, her gentle softening of the tone at just the right moments, and her fine diction meshed well with Ms. Griffin's mellow viola and Ms. Fader's elegant playing.

In the second song, the Virgin Mary's lullaby, Ms. Ben-Ze'ev brought a touching shift of intensity at "...Grimmige Kälte..."; as the cold night breeze stirs the palm trees of Bethlehem, the Mother implores the angels to calm the wind, that her Child might not be wakened.

The stage was then reset for the Piano Quintet, Opus 34. The members of the Momenta Quartet took their places: Emilie-Anne Gendron and Alex Shiozaki (violins), Ms. Griffin (viola), and Michael Haas (cello). At the keyboard, Ms. Fader had an incomparable page-turner in the person of choreographer Miro Magloire. 

The opening tutti of the Brahms Piano Quintet seems to say to the crowd, "You are in for some great music!" - and the players delivered in no uncertain terms. The music simply erupts, with energy, beauty, and richness flowing from an endless font of melody. Our quintet of musicians ideally blended passion with finesse, and Ms. Gendron's affecting violin themes were played from the heart.

A feeling of hesitancy marks the opening of the Andante; dense harmonies are layered in ways to captivate the listener. Mr. Haas's cello playing (here, and throughout the piece) is a model of tonal appeal and rhythmic assurance. Ms. Gendron and Mr. Shiozaki duetted to lovely effect, and later the first violin and the cello entwine their voices.

A pulsing cello figuration sets the Scherzo: Allegro on its way. A grand, martial theme steps forth, with the musicians increasing intensity before a passage of lyricism swell up. So lovely! Then, a da capo, with the sound seeming to increase in amplitude and density but still utterly clear. Flowing onward with a sense of urgency, the movement comes to a sudden stop.

The Finale begins slowly, and sounds forlorn. Ms. Gendron's high violin sings of a secret passion. Suddenly, the music starts to dance, and we feel optimistic; but Maestro Brahms allows a pensive feeling to encroach on the merriment. Then - in a sneaky way - high spirits return. After a marvelous, vertiginous descent, the players rush onward to the end.

So, this evening of beautiful, expressively rendered music was a treat in every regard. Though being in such a crowd might have induced a panic attack (I had one not long ago, in a similar situation), the music of Brahms provided blessèd assurance.

~ Oberon

Theo Adam Has Passed Away

The great bass-baritone Theo Adam has passed away at the age of 92. He made his professional debut at Dresden in 1949 (the year after I was born), and soon after he joined the Berlin State Opera. Building a reputation around his singing of the great Wagnerian roles - Wotan, Hans Sachs, the Dutchman, and Amfortas - Adam had a highly successful international career, appearing at the Bayreuth and Salzburg Festivals as well as at The Met, Covent Garden, Vienna Staatsoper, Chicago Lyric Opera, and San Francisco Opera.

In1 969, Theo Adam was Wotan in my first-ever performance of DAS RHEINGOLD, my 'live' introduction to the RING Cycle. Conducted by Herbert von Karajan, it was one of the greatest operatic experiences of my life.

Theo Adam sang only 17 performances at The Met (his roles being Wotan and Hans Sachs). I saw him for the second and last time in 1988, as the WALKURE Wotan in a cast which featured Hildegard Behrens as Brunnhilde and Leonie Rysanek in her final Met Sieglinde; James Levine conducted. The ovations at the end were sensational.

Theo Adam as Wotan greets the newly-completed Valhalla in DAS RHEINGOLD; Annelies Burmeister is Fricka:

RHEINGOLD - scene ~ Theo Adam and Annelies Burmeister

"Ruhe, ruhe, du Gott!"

~ Oberon

Simon Trpčeski|Jakub Hrůša ~ NY Philharmonic

Above: pianist Simon Trpčeski, photographed by Benjamin Ealovega

~ Author: Oberon

Thursday January 10th, 2019 - This evening's program at The New York Philharmonic opened with a suite from Leos Janáček's opera, The Cunning Little Vixen. This suite was arranged by Sir Charles Mackerras, the great champion of the Janáček operas. I had the true pleasure of meeting this great conductor while I was working at Tower Records, and of helping him locate a particular disc; I regret not having asked for his autograph that day. Sir Charles passed away in 2010.

His Little Vixen suite is a gem. I've only seen this charming - but ultimately sad - opera once, in the wonderful Maurice Sendak production presented by the New York City Opera in 1981, when Gianna Rolandi sang the title-role.

Maestro Jakub Hrůša and the Philharmonic musicians reveled in this colour-filled, melodious music which sings of Nature; it veers lovingly from folkish to cinematic. The orchestra's wind soloists - Robert Langevin (flute),  Pascual Martínez-Forteza (clarinet), and Judith LeClair (bassoon) - have an absolute field day as they bring forth sounds of the forest. There is an off-kilter waltz, a romping motif, and a rocking, swaying vignette as the suite moves towards its big finish. One especially engaging passage found Mr. Langevin piping sweetly as violinists Frank Huang and Sheryl Staples harmonized in a duet. Throughout, the musical shifts from intimate barnyard miniatures to spacious sweeps of the countryside kept the listener engaged. 

The evening's soloist, Simon Trpčeski, then took his place at the Steinway for the Prokofiev Piano Concerto No. 3.

The first movement, Andante - Allegro, opens slowly, with a clarinet solo/duo. Mr. Trpčeski enters with a scurrying motif, the music soon getting big and fast, and the delightful sound of castanets adding an unexpected ingredient. Mr. Forteza's clarinet sings again, and the music calms, taking on a spaced-out feeling. A pulsing develops, with the piano rippling away, ascending to the upper range where it meets the piccolo. The castanets sneak up on us again; the pianist plays what amounts to an accompanied cadenza - Mr. Trpčeski as his most intriguing - and there's a fast finish.

Jaunty flutes, clarinet, and bassoon introduce the second movement - a Theme and Variations affair - and Mr. Trpčeski commences with a perfect trill and a magical ascent. His solo is dreamy, but then there's a tumult, with trumpets.The piano plays emphatically over plucked cellos, and an eerie Misterioso atmosphere develops, with elusive horn calls. Mr. Forteza plays once more, so evocative his tone, and then a wonderful motif for the descending strings is heard. Piano and horn entwine softly. The music, after brief animation, subsides to a quiet end.

For the final Allegro ma non troppo, witty, swirling perpetual motion from the pianist (in brilliant figurations) contrasts with more somber yet lyrical moods expressed by the orchestra. The violins play a radiant theme, the piano sounding ironic. The music becomes spacious - with the piano glimmering - then turns quite grand before subsiding, in lovely soft downward piano scales, to a dreamy state (Mr. Trpčeski is sublime here...). A rush to the finish ensues, with the piano pounding out magnificent chords whilst the orchestra blazes away.

Greeted by a standing ovation, Mr. Trpčeski delighted us with a Prokofiev encore; we could not hear his remarks, but the music was something he'd purloined from the bassoon. He made a bow to Judith LeClair as he finished, amid more cheers.

Above, this evening's conductor, Jakub Hrůša; photo by Andreas Herzau

Of Nikolay Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, which was magically performed after the interval, the following quote encapsulates the background:

'The Sultan Shahriar, convinced of the duplicity and infidelity of all women, vowed to slay each of his wives after the first night. The Sultana Scheherazade, however, saved her life by the expedient of recounting to the Sultan a succession of tales over a period of one thousand and one nights. Overcome by curiosity, the monarch postponed the execution of his wife from day to day, and ended by renouncing his sanguinary resolution altogether.' 

It was Rimsky-Korsakov who dissuaded young Serge de Diaghilev from pursuing a career as a composer; instead, Diaghilev founded the Ballets Russes, and brought Russian art and music into the West. One of the Company's earliest triumphs was Mikhail Fokine's staging of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade as a dance-drama, with Vaslav Nijinsky electrifying audiences in Paris and London with his dancing as the Golden Slave. Léon Bakst's set and costume designs were coloristic miracles, inspiring new motifs in home decor and fashion.

Above: Léon Bakst's costume design for La Sultane in okine's Scheherazade

Tonight, The Philharmonic, under Maestro Hrůša's baton, gave the music the rich, sensuous allure it demands. Concertmaster Frank Huang's ravishing, satin-sheened tone in the opening (and recurring) theme of the title-character was so enticing. Throughout the work, the Philharmonic's principal players kept dazzling the ear with their luminous tone and immaculate artistry. Cellist Carter Brey, clarinetist Anthony McGill and oboist Sherry Sylar joined the earlier-named solo players, treating us to marvelous music-making. The brass - rather blocked from our view by music stands - also made thrilling contributions.

As this canvas of sound glowed before us, I was trying to imagine what sort of dancing could be done to it. Fokine must have made it work, as it was an ongoing hit for the Ballets Russes from its premiere in 1910 until the Bakst sets were destroyed in a railway fire in 1917 while being transported on tour.

Tonight, superbly played, this score did eventually seem like a surfeit of opulent gorgeousness, the repeated themes piling on one another with relentless lushness. By the end of its 45-minute span, one had the feeling of having over-indulged at a lavish dessert buffet; but one would not have been able to pass up any of the high-caloric treats on offer, so sumptuously were they set forth.  

~ Oberon

"Giusto cielo!" from Cilea's ADRIANA LECOUVREUR

Above: Renata Tebaldi

Renata Tebaldi - Giusto cielo! che feci in tal giorno ~ ADRIANA LECOUVREUR

"Just heaven! This day, what have I done?

My husband will return, and with him...his son.

The object of my adulterous desires

Will note the manner in which I greet his father:

My heart full of the sighs he would not return,

My eyes wet with the tears scorned by that ingrate.

Do you think that he, conscious of Theseus’ honor,

Will conceal what I am burning with: this ardor?

Will he let his king and father be betrayed?

Can he contain the horror he feels?

And I, my immense shame?

He will be silent in vain, for I know my vile transgression.

I am not one of those brazen women

Whose joy is in betrayal

But who can present to the world their faces, without blushing in shame."

~ from Racine's PHAEDRA

@ My Met Score Desk for AIDA

~ Author: Oberon

Monday January 7th, 2019 - Tonight I was planning to hear Sondra Radvanovsky and Dolora Zajick together in Verdi's AIDA at The Met, but Ms. Radvanovsky withdrew from the January performances in advance, replaced by Kristin Lewis in her Met debut.

This was not a great AIDA, but there was enough going on of interest to keep me at my score desk thru two stultifying Gelb intermissions. The performance, which started at 7:30, was (per the Playbill) to end at 11:10 PM. Following the Judgment Scene, I glanced at my watch: it was 11:10 precisely and we still had another scene to go. I slipped out, missing the curtain calls; since there had been precious little applause all evening, I was curious as to how the audience would react to the singers during the bows. But not curious enough to stay.

I very much liked Nicola Luisotti's conducting, which was nuanced when it should be and wonderfully propulsive when the drama called for it. The MET Orchestra were on tip-top form: harp, clarinet, and flute solos were world-class, the trumpets in the Triumphal Scene brilliant and crisply precise, the bass clarinet in the Judgment Scene plum-toned and immaculate, the timpani grumbling magnificently as Radames came to his trial, and the string basses and deep winds giving a splendid base to the entire score.

Interest centered on the two women: Ms. Lewis in her Met debut, and Dolora Zajick returning to her signature role of Amneris, which she first sang here nearly 30 years ago, most recently in 2012. 

Ms. Lewis's voice is slender but well-projected; the highest notes are clear and steady, and she uses chest voice sparingly but to good effect. The middle is attractive but not plushy. She seemed (understandably) a bit cautious at first but got everything in gear by "Ritorna vincitor!", in which she expressed fear ("Vincitor de'miei fratelli...") and anguish ("'Ah, non fu in terra mai...") with heartfelt lyricism. The closing prayer,  "Numi, pieta...", was softly intoned, drawing the audience in. 

In the confrontation duet with Ms. Zajick. Ms. Lewis held her own - no small feat, as the mezzo was by now firing on all cylinders. Ms. Lewis deployed her bright top notes to good advantage, and again the "Numi, pieta..." motif was appealing sung.

The soprano summoned sufficient power to crest the Triumphal Scene ensembles, with a very attractive solo descent just before the repeat of the "Ma tu, Re..." theme, and pulling out a good and gleaming top-C at the first climax. As the scene moved to its finish, Maestro Luisotti suddenly hit the gas: what a marvelous upsurge of energy! With the massed Egyptian voices lustily praising their gods, Ms. Lewis plucked a crystalline high E-flat out of mid-air and sustained it.

Ms. Lewis seemed a bit tired as the Nile Scene commenced, but she soon gathered a second wind and sang quite a persuasive "O patria mia", coloured by sadness and resignation. Her phrasing was well-shaped, with a long top-C and a lovely finish. The applause was surprisingly restrained, but then the audience - which seemed attentive - were essentially unresponsive all evening.

As the Nile Scene progressed, Ms. Lewis had moments of wayward pitch; in the drama of the duet with Amonasro, she seemed more dutiful than engaged, and perhaps flagging in energy a bit. But when Radames appeared, the soprano rebounded; softly seductive in "La tra le foreste vergine..." and ascending to a sustained, silken B-flat. From what I heard this evening, the role I would like to hear this soprano sing is Cio-Cio-San.

Dolora Zajick sounded restrained at first, but in the ensemble that sends Radames off to war, she started sounding very much like her dear self. The middle of the voice can disappear behind the orchestra at times, but the top is still strong and steady, and the chest voice is rich as ever.

In the Boudoir Scene, Ms. Zajick's three cries of "Ah, vieni...vien amor mio..." were deliciously soft and seductive, the third commencing with a daring pianissimo. She baited Aida with vocal cunning, knocking us for a loop with "Trema!" and "...figlia dei Faraoni!!", and igniting a blazing, sustained top A-flat at her exit. The Zajick voice could always penetrate the Triumphal Scene finale, and tonight she drove thru it like a Mack truck. 

The Judgment Scene is an iconic Zajick thriller; she mixes vulnerability, pride, despair, and god-defying venom in perfect measure. One thrilling moment followed another, and it wasn't just the blazing tops or the booming chest, but the tender anguish of "Ohime, morir me sento..." and the remorse of "Io stesso lo gettai..." that make Zajick's portrait of the proud princess so fascinating. Capping the scene with a blistering top-A, Zajick had shown that taking up this role again was well worth it. The applause, however, which used to extend up to a minute or longer (and delay the start of the ensuing scene), was over in a few seconds. I think most of the audience were just out for a night at the opera, not realizing Zajick's history in the role...nor the unique inclusion of Ms. Lewis's high E-flat.

What looked like a promising set of male principals proved rewarding in the event. In a short-notice debut, tenor Kevin Ray showed power and inflection even if the role is brief. Tenors like James McCracken, Robert Nagy, and Anthony Dean Griffey were messengers before they went on to bigger and better things. The same might happen for Mr. Ray.

Roberto Frontali's Amonasro tended towards over-emphasis, sometimes by-passing the actual notes with his declamatory style. But "Rivedrai le foreste imbalsamante..." was well-sung, and his bringing Aida round to compliance with "Pensa d'un popolo..." was an authentic parental guilt-trip.

Tenor Yonghoon Lee is able to muster the power for Radames's music, but also the subtlety to make his singing something more than just heroic blast-fest; thus the character become multi-dimensional. After a bit of flatting in the passaggio at the start of "Celeste Aida", the tenor phrased nicely, bringing forth a gentle  piano on the words "...vicino al sol..." before a big, long B-flat to end the aria.

Mr. Lee was able to span the range from lyricism to punched-up fervor in the Temple Scene, and he cut thru the Triumphal ensembles despite Zajick, two bassos, and the chorus going full-tilt. He did some very appealing soft singing in the Nile duet, adhering to the dolcissimo marking at "...il ciel de' nosti amori..." and then trumpeting the top-A's at "Io resto a te!".  Mr. Lee matched Ms. Zajick power for power in their vivid Judgment Scene duet.

Giving endless vocal pleasure all evening were two big-toned bassos: Vitalij Kowaljow as Ramfis and Soloman Howard as Pharoah. Mr. Kowaljow set the opera on its way with his rich, darkish intimations of military glory to Radames. In the Temple Scene, the basso's "Mortal, diletto ai Numi..." and the ensuing "Numi custode e vindice..." poured forth, recalling the great bassos of my earliest opera experiences. In the Triumphal Scene, he and Mr. Howard traded sororities as they discussed the disposition of the Ethiopian captives. The Kiev-born Kowaljov was simply grand as he escorted Amneris to her pre-wedding vigil, and utterly implacable as he faced her down following the trail of Radames.

Mr. Howard's impact was immediate, from "Alta cagion..." on to his proud "Su, del Nilo..." which thread Mr. Kowaljov took up. What a pleasure to hear these two fine voices tonight!

Kristin Lewis's high E-flat was an unexpected moment in the evening. The note, which Maria Callas famously sang in performances in Mexico City in the early 1950s, has not - in living memory, if ever - been heard at The Met, although Lucine Amara sometimes took it, but not in a penetrating manner...and she stopped when the other singers stopped. Ms. Lewis held on thru eight beats, with a nice shimmer. I wonder if she had secured the Maestro's permission...? And I wonder how many people in the audience realized what a rare event they had just experienced?

The intermissions simply killed whatever momentum the opera was gathering; after each one, it was like starting over. During the coma-inducing second one, a girl in the Balcony started screaming "27! 27!!!". Was she referring to the number of minutes that had already elapsed since any music was heard?  Well, you have another ten or fifteen minutes to go, dear. So...read a book! That's what I did. I never thought in all these years of opera-going I'd need to bring a novel to The Met.

Production photo from The Met website.

~ Oberon

Gautier Capuçon|Paavo Järvi ~ NY Philharmonic

Above: cellist Gautier Capuçon

~ Author: Ben Weaver

Friday January 4th, 2019 - The cello was thought by many composers to be an inadequate instrument for a concerto, its mellow tone difficult to break through an orchestra. Dvořák himself was a deep skeptic until he heard a performance of Victor Herbert’s Cello Concerto in New York, where Dvořák was living at the time. (Herbert, in addition to being a successful composer in his own right, was also a principal cellist with the NY Philharmonic and performed in the world premiere of Dvořák’s 9th Symphony). Convinced now that a successful cello concerto was, indeed, possible, Dvořák went on to write what is arguably the greatest example of the Cello Concerto of all: his Op. 104 in B-minor. Composed in 1894-95 it is a musical sibling to the “New World” Symphony: overflowing with melancholy and joy, original melodies inspired by Native American rhythms and harking back to his native Czech dances. 

The New York Philharmonic presented Dvořák’s masterpiece in a series of performances with cellist Gautier Capuçon under the baton of Paavo Järvi. The orchestra introduces the concerto’s main theme in an extended orchestral introduction. The cello enters restating the theme and then a brief development leads to an infectious dance variation of it. The melody reappears in various forms and disguises throughout the concerto. Gautier Capuçon, one of the leading cellists in the world today, played the work to perfection. The focused tone of his cello, his compete mastery of the instrument, the soul and feeling he brings to his playing won him a massive standing ovation. He was in full control in the extended and deeply moving Adagio and in the Finale’s light and bouncy Slavic dances that are a Dvořák trademark. Maestro Järvi was a masterly accompanist: keeping the orchestra’s volume down during Capuçon’s playing, helping with the notoriously difficult cello-to-orchestra volume balance.

Responding to the acclaim of the crowd, Mr. Capuçon offered an encore: Prokofiev's March (Walk of the Little Soldiers) from Music for Children, Op. 65, No. 10, in the Piatagorsky arrangement. It was wonderfully and humorously played.

After intermission, Maestro Järvi (above, in a Ixi Chen portrait) conducted a luminous performance of the first movement of  Sibelius's Lemminkäinen. Sibelius composed the four movement orchestral suite/symphony in 1895. He originally intended it to be an opera on a Wagnerian scale, but quickly changed his mind, settling on a four-movement suite. He continued to revise it for almost the rest of his life, the final version being submitted in 1947. Its most famous movement is the third: the creepy, marvelously evocative Swan of Tuonela. The rest of the work is rarely performed - and that’s most unfortunate. It is an extraordinary composition from first note to last. The first movement, Maidens of the Island, is a fifteen minute tone poem the Philharmonic presented this evening. Sibelius could create a sound-scape so unique to himself that there’s no doubt you are hearing a Sibelius work. This is certainly one of those works: cold wind and snow, icy waters and blinding white sky entered the concert hall. The music of Sibelius is something of a specialty of the Järvi family. Maestro Paavo’s father, Neeme, has been one of the preeminent interpreters of Sibelius’ music for many decades. Paavo Järvi has over the past few years developed into a first-rate artist himself and has fully emerged from his father’s shadow. His driven, beautifully paced interpretation of Maidens of the Island was superb. Special mention to excellent solo playing by principal cello Carter Brey and concertmaster Frank Huang. The performance made one hunger to hear the complete Lemminkäinen Suite. The last time NY Philharmonic performed it complete was 2007 under Sir Colin Davis. It deserves regular revivals.

The 2nd suite from Ravel’s Daphnis et Chloé was a perfect companion to Sibelius. Ravel, too, was a master sound-painter with a unique sound of his own. In fact, on a list of great orchestrators, Ravel usually comes out on top. His grasp of each instrument in the orchestra and each instrument’s capability and limitation has rarely been surpassed. The Suite opens with daybreak - harps, flutes and clarinets warble over muted strings divided into a dozen parts - and here Ravel provides an ingenious instruction in the score: “Remove the mutes one by one beginning with the first stands.” The music grows and glows as it reaches full volume in a truly unique and uniquely spectacular way. The soaring violins create some of the most Romantic sounds in all of Western art music literature and have inspired countless movie scores. In the Pantomime, Robert Langevin’s playing demonstrated once again that he is one of the finest flautists in the world. Danse générale was a raucous bacchanale of Ravel’s masterly orchestration and every orchestra’s love of bringing it to life.

~ Ben Weaver

@ My Met Score Desk for OTELLO

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday January 5th, 2019 matinee - This afternoon's Met OTELLO was my first time to experience Gustavo Dudamel's conducting live. Some people had commented on the sensational volume and vigor of Dudamel's take on the opera's opening storm music at the prima. The thrill is actually built in to the score; it always sounds this way. As the opening scene progressed, the music sometimes seemed too noisy and messy, though the drinking song had a nice lilt.

Dudamel pumped up the volume in certain spots, which seemed a disservice to his Otello, Stuart Skelton. But as Skelton's vocal performance showed some uncertainties, perhaps Dudamel was doing a cover-up for the singer. Mr. Skelton, usually an impressive tenor, had withdrawn from the prima of the run, and had dropped out of a couple more performances. He may have been under-the-weather, or maybe it's just the fact that Otello is not for everyone.

Mr. Skelton had many fine moments: he nailed the "Esultate!" and at times I heard echoes of the great James McCracken in Skelton's phrasing and vocal colour. But in the love duet, there were signs of discomfort - tiny traces of hoarseness - and the long final note a kind of skin-of the-teeth affair. The tenor did not sound really comfortable in "Ora e per sempre" (with Dudamel piling it on at the climax) and by the conclusion of the monumental tenor/baritone duet, Mr. Skelton seemed at the end of his tether. I did not stay to see if he finished the performance. [Apparently he did.]

Not so long ago, Sonya Yoncheva had a very pretty lyric-soprano sound and, over time, she might have grown into the spinto repertoire. Instead, she leap-frogged over a sensible progression of roles and has taken on Norma, Tosca, and Medea. Her choices have altered her voice, probably past redemption.

There's a beat to the tone, a kind of harshness higher up (which she strives to control), and an overall feeling of instability. From my first encounter with her (as Mimi) she's had a tendency to drift a tiny bit sharp much of the time. Yoncheva's singing in the love duet lacked the magic that a mistress of piano/pianissimo nuances can bring out in the music, and in the "full Monty" Mandolinata and in her subsequent pleading of Cassio's case, stridency sometimes crept in. For me, much of Sonia's Yoncheva's singing as Desdemona today sounded like a voix en péril.

Despite his usual bits of straying from pitch, Željko Lučić (above) dominated the performance: he has the range, the power, the verbal vitality, and the subtlety needed to make Iago come vibrantly to life. He took the wide-ranging vocal demands of the drinking song in stride, and in Act II gave a top-notch Credo (where Dudamel unleashed cannonades of brass), brought marvelous insinuating inflections to "Era la notte" (one phrase here is marked ppppppp in my score...really!), and then carried the day for his tenor colleague in a tumultuous "Si, pel ciel" where Dudamel got carried away but Mr. Lučić stood his ground. An engrossing vocal performance, to be sure.

Jennifer Johnson Cano sang well as Emilia, as did Jeff Mattesy (Montano) and the ever-impressive Chad Shelton (Roderigo). Alexey Dolgov lacked a feeling of lyricism in Cassio's music. Gorgeous cello solo introducing the love duet, and atmospheric harp playing at the end of Act I, which almost compensated for the less-than-transportive singing.   

Metropolitan Opera House
January 5th, 2019 matinee

OTELLO
Giuseppe Verdi

Otello..................Stuart Skelton
Desdemona...............Sonya Yoncheva
Iago....................Zeljko Lucic
Emilia..................Jennifer Johnson Cano
Cassio..................Alexey Dolgov
Lodovico................James Morris
Montàno.................Jeff Mattsey
Roderigo................Chad Shelton
Herald..................Kidon choi

Conductor...............Gustavo Dudamel

~ Oberon