In addition, to his popular score to A Midsummer Night’s Dream Felix Mendelssohn wrote incidental music to several other plays. Commissioned by the Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm IV, the incidental music to Athalia was intended for a private performance of the play by Jean Racine. While the story is a complicated Old Testament plot, Mendelssohn’s music captures the tone of the tragedy with delight, whimsy, and severity.
Interludes in opera articulate moments when the lush voices of singers and vivid spectacle of scenery and action are removed and often the curtain is drawn, and thus they span a functional gap between textless instrumental music and explicit theatrical vehicle. Although composers and analysts suggest rich and multivalent meanings for the music, those implications often escape decoding by audiences. Even the interlude titles — Zwischenspiel, entr'acte, intermezzo — suggest their intermission-like nature. As functional placeholders for scene changes and the like, the interludes are for many a cue to relax attentive listening, read synopses, and whisper with companions. Undaunted by such complexities, Morris takes up the problematic nature of operatic interludes, engaging their ambiguities with eyes wide open in an effort to enrich our understanding of these challenging bits of music.
According to the book jacket, this is the first major scholarly study of Così fan tutte, considered to be one of Mozart's least-understood operas and librettist Lorenzo Da Ponte's most interesting text. Così fan tutte has been studied extensively, despite the broad assertion stated in the book. What the author of this study brings to the reader, which others have not, is a detailed examination of the philosophical, pastoral, and comic background of the libretto, characters, and music of the opera. New perspectives on text and tone in the opera, the subtle use of the pastoral mode, and the tension and balance between philosophy and comedy are what the author brings to the study of this work. In addition, the author does an intensely close reading of the primary sources of the opera, in order to support his theories and statements.
The importance of the Teatre del Liceu, can not be overstated. The house ranks with all the leading theatres of the world, being right up there with Paris, London, New York, Vienna, Madrid, Rome, Milan, Lisbon, St. Petersburg, Moscow, Turin, Naples, Buenos Aires, and other cities of comparable importance. During its long history (158 years at the time of writing) it featured many of the great singers. These include Caruso, Battistini, Tamagno, Ruffo, Caballe, Tebaldi, Mario, Pavarotti, Vignas, Lazaro, O'Sullivan, Stracciari, Pagliughi, Gayarre, Masini, Stagno, Lauri-Volpi, Bellincioni, and countless others. Quite a few of these who sang there before 1897 are represented on the accompanying disc.
Thomas May's stated goal in Decoding Wagner is indeed summarized in his subtitle, An Invitation to His Music Dramas. Mr. May offers an introduction to those who may seek a reliable yet succinct guide in their first Wagnerian experience; a further potential readership is seen among those who have attended performances of Wagner but who wish to expand their appreciation of the music dramas. In his chronological overview of Wagner's oeuvre from the mid-1830s until the close of his career May presents an approachable guide to appreciating the composer's operatic genius. As an illustration of May's commentary on the works, a generous selection of Wagner's music is included on two Discs that accompany the volume in a protective sleeve.
Books described as a "Companion" to this or that and published by university presses should be required to come with a Reader Beware label. As is the case with many books put out by university and many for-profit publishers, the main reason for publishing these is to advance the tenure and promotion prospects of the authors. This is not a bad thing, except that all too often the books aren't very good.
In Making Words Sing, Jonathan Dunsby investigates what he calls the "vocality" of song, that is, the "quality of having voice," as the author states in the introduction to his study. By using this perspective, Dunsby focuses on the intensification of the text that occurs when words are set to music, which stands in opposition to the kind of "songfulness" that Lawrence Kramer discussed in Musical Meaning: Toward a Critical History (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2002).
"Puccini & the Girl" is a rare and engrossing work of scholarship that can be enjoyed on several levels. For the Puccini-lover, to say nothing of one who has a special interest in La Fanciulla del West, it will provide a wealth of information not previously available, particularly all in one place. Any one interested in the creative process will find it exposed and examined clearly. The scholar will recognize the fascinating chance discovery, the thrill of the chase and the deep rewards of work undertaken lovingly and with rigorous care by the dedicated and passionate co-authors.
Jack Winsor Hansen's 520-page biography of Sibyl Sanderson (1865 - 1903) is packed with romanticism and gossip that will delight and titillate true worshipers of operatic divas and inquisitive opera fans. It also fills a gap in the music-historical writings about opera at the end of the 19th century.
Cage's music is like Einstein's theorem: most people know it exists, know it's important, but beyond these facts know nothing about it (count me in this category when it comes to Einstein).
If any opera lover feels daunted by the many biographies and analytical tomes dedicated to the life and art of Giacomo Puccini, Norton has done that reader a tremendous favor with the publication of The Puccini Companion. Tightly organized, this series of essays details the life, discusses the operas, and provides a wealth of supplementary information about the composer.
When Rudolf Bing came to the Metropolitan Opera in 1950, he scored a tremendous hit with a new staging of the perennial operetta favorite Die Fledermaus. Both at the opera house on 39th Street and on national tour, the slickly Broadwayized Fledermaus packed in big audiences season after season. A decade later, Bing assembled a fine cast and proven production team for the company's first performances of Strauss's Der Zigeunerbaron in fifty years. 18 performances were scheduled. It sank like a stone and has never appeared at the MET again.
Much current popular culture assumes that its audience is knowledgeable of the American musical. References to, and parodies of, specific musicals are frequently a part of episodes of The Simpsons and South Park, and ads for companies as diverse as The Gap and the World Wrestling Entertainment promotion recently have restaged numbers from West Side Story to plug their products or events. Rarely, if ever, are the sources acknowledged; it is simply taken for granted that a general audience will understand the quotations and parodies.
"I particularly want to reach newcomers" writes Anthony Tommasini, Times chief classical music critic, in his preface. I do not think they will be helped very much by this book. A rookie who picks it up and reads the subtitle may expect something more than two operas by Bellini, two by Donizetti, one Gounod (not Faust), one Massenet (not Manon) and no Lohengrin.
"New musicology" is the cultural study, analysis and criticism of music, which proffers the belief that music has societal, religious, political, personal, and sexual agendas. Consequently, new musicology, much like the discussion of such topics at social gatherings, can be polarizing.
The box-sets contaning the complete recordings of the music of J.S. Bach and W.A. Mozart occupy substantial shelf space in the collections of those fortunate enough to possess them.
Here's a serious niche book, a relatively slender volume dealing with a topic at once both arcane and surprisingly central to some of the major controversies in opera production today. I think it has major problems but it has become for me the pebble dropped into the pond that sends ripples to unexpected places, raising interesting questions in the process.
Among the recent publications on opera, The Cambridge Companion to Grand Opera, edited by David Charlton, breaks new ground with its systematic and thorough exploration of grand opera, a specific part of the genre which played an important role in the musical culture of the nineteenth century.
This volume has long been regarded as the definitive work on the subject, and has been quoted in countless later works whenever a reference was required to the performance histories of individual operas. Taken as a whole, especially when one considers the state of library science when the book was first written, it is a magnificent piece of work, and belongs on the bookshelf of every researcher in the operatic field.
During his heyday, Alain Vanzo did not get quite the recognition he deserved. Though the voice was sweeter and more beautiful than the somewhat white sound of Nicolai Gedda, it was the latter who got all the plums; primo because he was a discovery of Legge and a few years earlier on the scene and secundo while opera managers could cast him in other languages than French and Italian.
Alexander Frey, upon learning that a song Leonard Bernstein had written for the 1950 production of Peter Pan had been cut before the show opened, wondered if there was other music originally intended for the production that went by the wayside.
After some searching, he found an entire score composed by Bernstein that nearly no one knew existed. While songs by Bernstein were retained for the production (Bernstein did his own lyrics), his incidental music was replaced by the music of Alec Wilder, and much of it had never been heard, recorded, or, in some cases, even orchestrated. This welcome, and mostly excellent, recording is the result of Frey's seven years of musicological digging in search of this score. For those of us familiar with the already extant songs, as well as those of us for whom Bernstein's work in general is a national treasure, the recording is a wonderful gift. Frey has restored the entire score from manuscript materials and other sources; they have been completely orchestrated; and Bernstein's interpretation of the classic J. M. Barrie tale is at long last available.
For those used to the better known musical version of the story that originally featured Mary Martin on Broadway and, perhaps even more famously, on television, this take on the story holds some surprises. It is recognizably Bernstein from top to finish, to be sure. But how he responds to the story and characters is often fascinating.
Take, for instance, the opening music. The Prelude to Act 1, in which we are musically introduced to the Darling family, is Bernstein at his gentlest. The music surrounds us (and the Darlings) with a safe and homey musical environment - gently orchestrated, melodically simple, harmonically straightforward. The sense of security is complete, although it is, of course, about to be upended by the shadowless boy who flies into the room. Apart from a lullaby sung by Wendy, to which I'll return momentarily, the rest of the act consists of incidental music: "Peter's Tears," in which Peter expresses his dismay at having lost his shadow; "Shadow Dance," in which he celebrates Wendy's having re-attached it with a metrically delightful romp; and two pieces of flying music that accompany Peter, Tink, and the Darling children out the window and on to Neverland. If the flying music sounds a little generic, it's probably because we have grown used to similar music in any number of John Williams scores, from Superman (whose flying music borrowed blatantly from Richard Strauss) to E.T.
The rest of the incidental music is appropriately evocative and charming, and the orchestrations are warmly expressive. Several fight sequences are full of rhythmic and thematic interest, and one of Bernstein's scene changes (track 12) sounds wonderfully like something Darius Milhaud meant to write but never got around to. There is a terrific Bernstein moment in the sequence "Tinkerbell Sick / Tink Lives!" I won't ruin it for listeners in the know, but suffice it to say that Tinkerbell would feel a bit disoriented if she revived and found herself, musically at least, in a completely different musical.
While a few of the incidental pieces are extended - the penultimate scene change (track 26) is a gorgeous orchestral version of the song "Build My House," for example, and at least one of the fights is of relatively substantial length - most of them are quite short. They provide the exact mood for the moment and disappear, just as they should. Without anything in between them, however, they sometimes don't register.
As we already know, Bernstein also wrote several songs for Peter Pan, and they are all gems. The songs are for Wendy, Captain Hook, the pirates, and the mermaids. Peter Pan does not sing, presumably because Jean Arthur, the star, did not.
Linda Eder is unafraid of Wendy's deceptive simplicity, as well as that of her music, and she gives a vocal characterization completely free of affectation. There is no sense of an adult playing down to a child's level: Eder is childlike without being childish, and she uses straight tones with great effect. She also knows when not to use them. Her "Who Am I?", a lullaby Wendy sings to her brothers before Peter arrives, is simple in all the right ways. Only afterwards do we realize the artistry of song and singer. The song "Peter Peter" is a strange charmer. Wendy is telling Peter how much she cares for him, according to the booklet notes, but the words are unusually physical: "I want to feel your touch," "I long for it [the touch of Peter] night and day," etc. Eder sings these lyrics with both innocence and sincerity, and the result dispels what on the page is somewhat disconcerting. Only on "Dream With Me," a song cut from the show, does Eder go astray. Instead of maintaining the wonderful character that she has established - and the wonderful, straightforward vocal embodiment of it - Eder changes styles and suddenly sounds all grown up. It's as if Wendy is having a cabaret moment while singing Peter to sleep. Mind you, this Linda Eder, so it's a very nice cabaret moment, but it somehow seems inappropriate in context and less motivated. But the only comment I can make about Eder's performance of "Build My House" is thank you. She sings it the way I have always hoped to hear it sung.
Alas, Daniel Narducci seems rather out of his element here. Whereas Eder seems to have made acting choices and sung accordingly (exception noted), Narducci doesn't seem to have made any choices at all. Captain Hook is the stuff of character men, and Narducci appears to be a leading man with a nice if unmemorable baritone voice. I'm afraid he invests Hook with nothing. The performance doesn't work as villainy and it doesn't work as comedy. It's just bland. The singer seems unaware of the actor's opportunities. To hear Narducci say "Split my infinitives, but 'tis my hour of triumph!" - a line a good character actor could turn into a one-act play - is to realize the missed opportunities throughout. Bad casting, which is especially unfortunate because Hook has some wonderful material, from a extended "Soliloquy" to a "Plank Round" with the pirates, both of which provide an actor with great opportunities.
The sound of the disc is outstanding. The booklet includes all the lyrics to the songs, biographies, and notes by Frey and David Felsenfeld, the latter of which get off track a few times: is Candide really a mostly-forgotten show? Jule Styne and Comden and Green wrote additional material for the other, more famous Peter Pan — the original score was by Moose Charlap and Carolyn Leigh, who Felsenfeld does not even mention. Etc. But overall the notes are useful. The vocal ensemble sings well, the Ambrose Chamber Orchestra plays with the right combination of warmth and crisp rhythmic awareness, and Alexander Frey, whose labor of love all this is, leads the proceedings with an unmistakable joy. While this is a trifle, it is a trifle by Bernstein, and the results are an important contribution to the literature. Grateful kudos to Mr. Frey.
Jim Lovensheimer, Ph.D.
Blair School of Music, Vanderbilt University