The Wigmore Hall complete Schubert song series continued with a recital by Georg Nigl and Andreas Staier. Staier's a pioneer, promoting the use of fortepiano in Schubert song. In Schubert's time, modern concert pianos didn't exist. Schubert and his contemporaries would have been familiar with a lighter, brighter sound. Over the last 30 years, we've come to better understand Schubert and his world through the insights Staier has given us. His many performances, frequently with Christoph Prégardien at the Wigmore Hall, have always been highlights.
Classical Opera’s MOZART 250 project has reached the year 1767. Two years ago, the company embarked upon an epic, 27-year exploration of the music written by Mozart and his contemporaries exactly 250 years previously. The series will incorporate 250th anniversary performances of all Mozart’s important compositions and artistic director Ian Page tells us that as 1767 ‘was the year in which Mozart started to write more substantial works - opera, oratorio, concertos this will be the first year of MOZART 250 in which Mozart’s own music dominates the programme’.
‘[T]hey moderated or increased their voices, loud or soft, heavy or light according to the demands of the piece they were singing; now slowing, breaking of sometimes with a gentle sigh, now singing long passages legato or detached, now groups, now leaps, now with long trills, now with short, or again, with sweet running passages sung softly, to which one sometimes heard an echo answer unexpectedly. They accompanied the music and the sentiment with appropriate facial expressions, glances and gestures, with no awkward movements of the mouth or hands or body which might not express the feelings of the song. They made the words clear in such a way that one could hear even the last syllable of every word, which was never interrupted or suppressed by passages or other embellishments.’
An exceptional Wagner Der fliegende Holländer, so challenging that, at first, it seems shocking. But Kasper Holten's new production, currently at the Finnish National Opera, is also exceptionally intelligent.
800 years ago, every book was a precious treasure - ‘written on skin’. In George Benjamin’s and Martin Crimp’s 2012 opera, Written on Skin, modern-day archivists search for one such artefact: a legendary 12th-century illustrated vanity project, commissioned by an unnamed Protector to record and celebrate his power.
It was like a “Date Night” at Staatsoper unter den Linden with
its return of Eike Gramss’ 2012 production of Puccini’s Madama
Butterfly. While I entered the Schiller Theater, the many young couples
venturing to the opera together, and emerging afterwards all lovey-dovey and
moved by Puccini’s melodramatic romance, encouraged me to think more
positively about the future of opera.
For the Late Night concert after the Saturday series, fifteen Berliners
backed up Barbara Hannigan in yet another adventurous collaboration on a modern
rarity with Simon Rattle. I was completely unfamiliar with the French composer,
but the performance tonight made me fall in love with Gérard
Grisey’s sensually disintegrating soundscape Quatre chants pour
franchir le seuil, or “Fours Songs to cross the
One of the things I love about the Philharmonie in Berlin, is the normalcy
of musical excellence week after week. Very few venues can pull off with such
illuminating star wattage. Michael Schade, Anne Schwanewilms, and Barbara
Hannigan performed in two concerts with two larger-than-life conductors
Thielemann and Rattle. We were taken on three thrilling adventures.
Lyric Opera of Chicago’s original and superbly cast production of Hector Berlioz’s Les Troyens has provided the musical public with a treasured opportunity to appreciate one of the great operatic achievements of the nineteenth century.
Now in its 31st year, the 2016 Christmas Festival at St John’s Smith Square has offered sixteen concerts performed by diverse ensembles, among them: the choirs of King’s College, London and Merton College, Oxford; Christchurch Cathedral Choir, Oxford; The Gesualdo Six; The Cardinall’s Musick; The Tallis Scholars; the choirs of Trinity College and Clare College, Cambridge; Tenebrae; Polyphony and the Orchestra of the Age of the Enlightment.
As 2016 draws to a close, we stand on the cusp of a post-Europe, pre-Trump world. Perhaps we will look back on current times with the nostalgic romanticism of Richard Strauss’s 1911 paean to past glories, comforts and certainties: Der Rosenkavalier.
Let’s start by getting a couple of gripes out of the way. First, the
final act of Die Walküre does not constitute a full-length
concert, even with a distinguished cast and orchestra, and with animated
drawings fluttering on a giant screen.
Roderick Williams’ and Julius Drake’s English Winter Journey seems such a perfect concept that one wonders why no one had previously thought of compiling a sequence of 24 songs by English composers to mirror, complement and discourse with Schubert’s song-cycle of love and loss.
Opening night at the Metropolitan is a gleeful occasion even when the
composer is long gone, but December 1st was an opening for a living composer who
has been making waves around the world and is, gasp, a woman — the second woman
composer ever to have an opera presented at the Met.
For an opera that has never quite made it over the threshold into the ‘canonical’, the adolescent Mozart’s La finta giardiniera has not done badly of late for productions in the UK. In 2014, Glyndebourne presented Frederic Wake-Walker’s take on the eighteen-year-old’s dramma giocoso. Wake-Walker turned the romantic shenanigans and skirmishes into a debate on the nature of reality, in which the director tore off layers of theatrical artifice in order to answer Auden’s rhetorical question, ‘O tell me the truth about love’.
A New Production of Elektra at Lyric Opera of Chicago
The opening images of Richard Strauss’s Elektra in its new production at Lyric Opera of Chicago establish a tension persisting until the final chords of the score indeed signal a resolution of this familial tragedy.
A New Production of Elektra at Lyric Opera of Chicago
A review by Salvatore Calomino
Above: Christine Goerke [Photo by Christian Steiner courtesy of IMG Artists]
Christine Goerke, in her debut with this company, delivered a relentless yet at
the same time lyrical performance, one in which Elektra’s early delusions are
transformed by the character’s determination to see her plan for revenge
ultimately realized. Her sister Chrysothemis is sung by soprano Emily Magee,
their mother Klytmämnestra by mezzo-soprano Jill Grove, Orest by bass-baritone
Alan Held, and Aegisth by tenor Roger Honeywell. Sir Andrew Davis conducts
these performances which open Lyric Opera’s fifty-eighth season.
At the sound of the distinctive opening chords the stage depicts a
servants’ courtyard at center with, at left, a stairwell leading up to a
stone edifice tilted menacingly. The doorway at the top of the stairwell emits
a reddish glow. During the opening dialogue of the maids Elektra is visible
from time to time caught up in gestures of emotional distress coupled with
sounds akin to laughter. In her defense of Elektra’s nobility of spirit the
fifth maid, sung and declaimed here with admirable attention to diction by
Tracy Cantin, communicates further the tension that accompanies Elektra’s
dilemma. Once the maids have retreated indoors Elektra occupies the stage alone
and delivers her opening monologue. From the start Ms. Goerke uses her dramatic
and vocal powers to portray a character obsessed with the dimensions of past
injustice and future vengeance. Goerke’s calls to her father Agamemnon,
coupled with a narration of his slaughter, are delivered with an impressive and
secure range. In her erratic memory this Elektra intones the dramatic low
pitches of “Sie schlugen dich im Bade tot” [“They murdered you in the
bath”] in flashes with tender appeals phrased piano for Agamemnon in
spirit again to reveal himself [“Zeig dich deinem Kind” (“Appear before
your child”)]. As the orchestra swells gradually toward the close of
Elektra’s extended monologue Goerke’s voice rises in believable excitement
at the thought of a triumphal dance. In her plan for sibling cooperation she
envisions the “Purpurgezelte” [“pavilions of purple”] that will be
erected upon the successful revenge taken for Agamemnon’s death. Here
Goerke’s forte notes matched the orchestral power and were
integrated into a seamless portrayal of distress and vision. The final appeal
to “Agamemnon,” just as at the start of the scene, suggests here through
audible symmetry a barely contained simmer of emotional fury which is still to
Jill Grove [Photo by Dario Acosta courtesy of IMG Artists]
At the entrance of Chrysothemis in the following scene Goerke injects a
palpable scorn into her greeting, “Was willst du, Tochter meiner Mutter?”
[“What do you seek, daughter of my mother?”]. In their interaction and
frenzied discussion of Klytmämnestra’s plan to imprison Elektra, Ms. Magee
creates an emotionally complex figure. Her Chrysothemis attempts to warn
Elektra yet also unleashes lyrical pleas to be allowed to live as a woman and
to ignore the past. Once her feelings become charged to the point of declaring,
“Viel lieber tot als leben und nicht leben,” [“So much better to be dead
rather than to live and not live”], Magee’s yearning vocal line rises
exquisitely in contrast to Elektra’s present starkness.
In the following scene Chrysothemis runs off to allow the inevitable
confrontation between Klytmämnestra and Elektra. Jill Grove shows herself to
be an equal partner in this vocal and dramatic confrontation, as her
Klytmämnestra derides the “paralysis” [“gelähmt sein”] of her own
strength when confronted by her daughter. In her address to Elektra the rising
notes on “Habt ihr gehört? Habt ihr verstanden?” [“Did you hear? Did you
understand?”] flow into a solid and chilling contralto pitch on “Ich will
nicht mehr hören” [“I do not wish to hear any more”], both establishing
the dread that she herself feels and can likewise inspire in others. The
revelation that a sacrifice must be made to halt Klytmämnestra’s nightmares
leads to Elektra’s triumphant announcement that the Queen herself must die as
this “Opfer.” Grove uses appropriately melodramatic gestures to register
the Queen’s horror until a servant provides her with the information that her
feared son Orest has died before returning to the court. As she regains her
composure Grove’s Klytmämnestra retreats with her retinue while delivering
exultant cries of relief.
When Chrysothemis announces this very information to Elektra in their
following exchange Goerke’s repetition of “Es ist nicht wahr” [“It is
not true”] communicates her frustration in acidic tones. Elektra reveals to
Chrysothemis that she has hidden the axe used in Agamemnon’s murder and the
sisters must now wield it in lieu of Orest. The accompanying duet between
Goerke and Magee stands out as a lyrical showpiece of this production as their
voices blend and move apart in rhythmic succession. At the ultimate refusal of
Chrysothemis to participate in the vengeance and her flight into the house,
Elektra is left in grim resolve to dig for the buried axe herself.
As Elektra continues to search for the hidden weapon, a shadow appears on
the back and side walls of the stage. The stranger [“Was willst du, fremder
Mensch?” (“What do you seek, stranger?”)] identifies himself as a former
companion of Orest who has come to deliver personally the news of his death to
the Queen. In the scene of recognition Orest is able first to appreciate the
identity of his sister through conversation despite her degraded state. Mr.
Held portrays the stranger convincingly with questioning tones of respect,
until the moment of recognition when his resonant voice blooms into the role of
the heroic brother with a determined mission. In like manner, Goerke’s
dramatic cry of recognition at the identification of her brother is softened as
she sings piano with distended notes of relief and love. Despite their
ecstatic reunion they are reminded of the task as Orest enters the palace. Only
Elektra’s despair at having forgotten to provide Orest with the axe breaks
the awful tension sustained in the orchestral accompaniment. The screams of
Klytmämnestra are followed soon by the arrival in the courtyard of a drunken
Aegisth. Elektra assures him passage into the house and to the same fate as
that met by her mother. At the appearance of Chrysothemis in the courtyard and
her joyous declaration of “Gut sind die Götter” [“The gods are
benevolent”], Elektra begins her dance of celebration predicted earlier in
her dramatic monologue. The continued emotional strain has, however, snapped
and Elektra falls down lifeless to the horror of her sister. The final cries by
Chrysothemis of “Orest!” bring about the crashing chords of resolution. The
production of Elektra by Lyric Opera of Chicago with its superb cast
as well as musical leadership by Sir Andrew Davis will remain as a testament to
the innovation and greatness of Strauss’s music.