Recently in Performances
Matthias Goerne and Menahem Pressler at the Wigmore Hall, London, an intriguing recital on many levels. Goerne programmes are always imaginative, bringing out new perspectives, enhancing our appreciation of the depth and intelligence that makes Lieder such a rewarding experience. Menahem Pressler is extremely experienced as a soloist and chamber musician, but hasn't really ventured into song to the extent that other pianists, like Brendel, Eschenbach or Richter, for starters. He's not the first name that springs to mind as Lieder accompanist. Therein lay the pleasure !
It is twenty-three years since Rossini’s opera of cultural oppression, inspiring heroism and tender pathos was last seen on the Covent Garden stage, but this eagerly awaited new production of Guillaume Tell by Italian director Damiano Micheletto will be remembered more for the audience outrage and vociferous mid-performance booing that it provoked — the most persistent and strident that I have heard in this house — than for its dramatic, visual or musical impact.
With its outrageous staging demands, you sometimes wonder why opera companies want to produce Verdi’s Aida. But the piece is about far more than pharaohs, pyramids and camels.
Given the enduring resonance and impact of the magnificent visual aesthetic of Visconti’s 1971 film of Thomas Mann’s novella, opera directors might be forgiven for concluding that Britten’s Death in Venice does not warrant experimentation with period and design, and for playing safe with Edwardian elegance, sweeping Venetian vistas and stylised seascapes.
If La Rondine (The Swallow) is a less-admired work than rest of the mature Puccini canon, you wouldn’t have known it by the lavish production now lovingly staged by Opera Theatre of Saint Louis.
Few companies have championed new or neglected works quite as fervently and consistently as the industrious Opera Theatre of Saint Louis.
For Opera Theatre of Saint Louis, “everything old is new again.”
Why would an American opera company devote its resources to the premiere of an opera by an Italian composer? Furthermore a parochially Italian story?
Berlioz’ Les Troyens is in two massive parts — La prise de Troy and Troyens à Carthage.
On Saturday evening June 13, 2015, Los Angeles Opera presented Dog Days, a new opera with music by David T. Little and a text by Royce Vavrek. In the opera adopted from a story of the same name by Judy Budnitz, thirteen-year-old Lisa tells of her family’s mental and physical disintegration resulting from the ravages of a horrendous war.
Audiences at the Teatro alla Scala in Milan first saw Madama Butterfly on February 17, 1904. It was not the success it is these days, and Puccini revised it before its scheduled performances in Brescia.
Opera Philadelphia is a very well-managed opera company with a great vision. Every year it presents a number of well-known “warhorse” operas, usually in the venerable Academy of Music, and a few more adventurous productions, usually in a chamber opera format suited to the smaller Pearlman Theater.
Written in 1783, Giovanni Paisiello’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia reigned for three decades as one of Europe’s most popular operas, before being overshadowed forever by Rossini’s classic work.
The Princeton Festival has established a reputation for high-quality summer opera. In recent years works by Handel, Britten, Rachmaninoff, Stravinsky, Wagner and Gershwin have been performed at Matthews Theater on Princeton University campus: a 1100-seat auditorium with good sight-lines though a somewhat dry and uneven acoustic.
Die Entführung aus dem Serail was Mozart’s ﬁrst great public success in Vienna, and it became the composer’s most oft performed opera during his lifetime.
The Ensemble for the Romantic Century offered a thoughtful and well-curated evening in their production of The Sorrows of Young Werther, which is part theatrical performance and part art song concert.
This was an adventurous double bill of two ‘quasi-operas’ by Hans Werner Henze, performed by young singers who are studying on the postgraduate Opera Course at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama.
High brick walls, a cavernous space, entered via a narrow passage just off a London thoroughfare: Village Underground in Shoreditch is probably not that far removed from the venue in which Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas was first performed — whether that was Josiah Priest’s girl’s school in Chelsea or the court of Charles II or James II.
Hats off to Garsington for championing once again some criminally neglected Strauss. I overheard someone there opine, ‘Of course, you can understand why it isn’t done very often.’
Mozart and Da Ponte’s Cosi fan tutte provides little in the way of background or back story for the plot, thus allowing directors to set the piece in a variety settings.
23 Apr 2010
Christopher Maltman, Wigmore Hall, London
The abiding elegance and beauty of Christopher Maltman’s baritone,
complemented by the interpretative wisdom and experience of Graham Johnson, one
of the finest vocal accompanists of recent times, made this an evening of
assured musicianship and expressive poise.
The fourteen songs which comprise Schwanengesang (‘Swan
Song’) were composed by Schubert in the year of his death, 1828. They do
not form a unified sequence: there is no continuous narrative or singular mood.
But, that is in many ways the strength of the ‘cycle’; for it is
the variety of emotions and situations, often juxtaposed in surprising
sequences, which accounts for the unsettling power of these lieder,
many of which are themselves characterised by striking inner contrasts. Dark
despair is followed by hesitant optimism; cynical irony by tentative hope.
Maltman and Johnson did not always distinguish the full range of subtle
emotional tones and shades contained herein, but their control of form —
crafted melodic lines, flexible rhythms and well-judged tempi - coupled with
impressive technical assurance, more than compensated for an occasionally
limited dramatic palette. Opting principally for either a veiled, hesitant
pianissimo or a bitter angry forte, Maltman’s reading
of these songs was one of disquiet and despair.
Maltman’s tone is particularly beautiful in the upper ranges, and his
focused, sweet lyricism was immediately evident in the opening song,
‘Liebesbotschaft’ (‘Love’s message’). Words were
breathed rather than intoned, vigour and passion reserved for a sudden surge of
emotion as the protagonist recollects the ‘crimson glow’ of the
beloved’s roses. The baritone’s large range was immediately
revealed in the following song, an authoritative reading of ‘Kriegers
Ahnung’ (Warrior’s Foreboding’), where Maltman plumbed rich
vocal depths to convey the horror of the death-laden battlefield.
Johnson’s appreciation of musical drama was also revealed: the flowing
ardour of the rippling brook of the opening song was here replaced by a tense,
sprung, rhythmic dynamism, subtle rubati and acceleration highlighting
the modulations between major and minor tonality which enhance the poignant and
ironic contrast between celebrations of earthly love and recognition of
Similar masterly control of pace was evident in ‘Frühlings
Sehnsucht’ (‘Spring Longing’), where the stanzas’
culminating questions - ‘But where?’, ‘But why?’ -
unsettled the calm assurance of the preceding romantic visions of the natural
world. A highlight of the Rellstab settings which form the first half of the
sequence was ‘In der Ferne’ (‘Far away’), where the
piano’s haunting introduction and subsequent echoes of the vocal line
suggested an isolation and alienation which cannot be alleviated by the
poem’s somewhat convention romantic imagery. ‘Abschied’ ends
the Rellstab sequence, a surprisingly light-hearted ‘farewell’ to
the protagonist’s home town as he sets out on his quest; the emotive
inferences of Johnson’s between-verse phrases and, once again, the
contrast of major and minor modes, undermined the spirit of optimism and
prepared for the subsequent Heine settings, with their greater psychological
complexity and unease.
In ‘Der Atlas’ (Atlas) the lonely bitterness of rejection was
forcefully conveyed by the imposing strength of Maltman’s tone, laden
with massive despair, and the frustrated undercurrents in the piano’s
introduction and postlude. After such turbulence, ‘Ihr Bild’
(‘Her likeness’) presented a contrasting moment of oppressive
stillness, although melancholy and loss remained paramount: sparse unison
textures evoked the poet-speaker’s self-tormenting ‘dark
dreams’, oscillating with the warm richer harmonies as the
‘wonderful smile played about her lips’. Such consolation was
however tinged with woe and proved transient. Here Maltman’s control of
the text was superb: the words floated into the ether, revealing the fragility
of his hopes and visions. The light, barcarolle-like ‘Das
Fischermädchen’ (The fishermaiden’) offered only a short-lived
respite before the gothic hallucinations of ‘Die Stadt’ (‘The
town’) and the sorrowful seascape of ‘Am Meer’ (‘By the
sea’) engulfed us once again. Most impressive in these bleak,
through-composed dramas was Maltman’s alertness to Schubert’s power
of suggestion, and the performers’ recognition of an inferred narrative
in Heine’s sequence; for instance, the harmonic progression which
connects the bare low C at the close of ‘Die Stadt’ to the harmonic
transition at the start of ‘Am Meer’ was skilfully controlled. The
‘narrative’ culminates in the extraordinary, harrowing song,
‘Der Doppelgänger’ where Johnson’s ominous repeating bass
line and startling modulations provided an eerie bed for Maltman’s
agonized free declamations, as the poet-speaker is forced to face the
embodiment of his own misery and anguish.
The light-weight joviality of Seidl’s ‘Taubenpost’
(‘Pigeon-Post’), appended to the sequence by Schubert’s
Viennese publisher, the enterprising Tobias Haslinger, makes for an odd
conclusion; perhaps it was intended to provide symmetry — seven songs in
each ‘half’ — or to alleviate the distress of the despairing
‘Doppelgängeer’, much as ‘Abschied’ (with which it
shares rhythmic motifs and mood) lightened the distant shadows of ‘In der
Ferne’? Whatever the reason for its placement, Maltman found scant
genuine cheer and consolation in ‘Taubenpost’: clear in diction,
sweet in tone, but emotionally reticent, Maltman’s light baritone
suggested the insubstantiality of the protagonist’s certainty and
Maltman’s intelligent performance was technically immaculate. Striving
for extreme, unsettling contrasts, perhaps he and Johnson did not always
capture the full range of emotional nuance; but this was a masterly and