The Sixteen continues its exploration of Henry Purcell’s Welcome Songs for Charles II. As with Robert King’s pioneering Purcell series begun over thirty years ago for Hyperion, Harry Christophers is recording two Welcome Songs per disc.
In February this year, Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho made a highly lauded debut recital at Wigmore Hall - a concert which both celebrated Opera Rara’s 50th anniversary and honoured the career of the Italian soprano Rosina Storchio (1872-1945), the star of verismo who created the title roles in Leoncavallo’s La bohème and Zazà, Mascagni’s Lodoletta and Puccini’s Madama Butterfly.
Collapsology. Or, perhaps we should use the French word ‘Collapsologie’ because this is a transdisciplinary idea pretty much advocated by a series of French theorists - and apparently, mostly French theorists. It in essence focuses on the imminent collapse of modern society and all its layers - a series of escalating crises on a global scale: environmental, economic, geopolitical, governmental; the list is extensive.
Amongst an avalanche of new Mahler recordings appearing at the moment (Das Lied von der Erde seems to be the most favoured, with three) this 1991 Mahler Second from the 2nd Kassel MahlerFest is one of the more interesting releases.
If there is one myth, it seems believed by some people today, that probably needs shattering it is that post-war recordings or performances of Wagner operas were always of exceptional quality. This 1949 Hamburg Tristan und Isolde is one of those recordings - though quite who is to blame for its many problems takes quite some unearthing.
The voices of six women composers are celebrated by baritone Jeremy Huw Williams and soprano Yunah Lee on this characteristically ambitious and valuable release by Lontano Records Ltd (Lorelt).
As Paul Spicer, conductor of the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire Chamber Choir, observes, the worship of the Blessed Virgin Mary is as ‘old as Christianity itself’, and programmes devoted to settings of texts which venerate the Virgin Mary are commonplace.
Ethel Smyth’s last large-scale work, written in 1930 by the then 72-year-old composer who was increasingly afflicted and depressed by her worsening deafness, was The Prison – a ‘symphony’ for soprano and bass-baritone soloists, chorus and orchestra.
‘Hamilton Harty is Irish to the core, but he is not a musical nationalist.’
‘After silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.’ Aldous Huxley’s words have inspired VOCES8’s new disc, After Silence, a ‘double album in four chapters’ which marks the ensemble’s 15th anniversary.
A song-cycle is a narrative, a journey, not necessarily literal or linear, but one which carries performer and listener through time and across an emotional terrain. Through complement and contrast, poetry and music crystallise diverse sentiments and somehow cohere variability into an aesthetic unity.
One of the nicest things about being lucky enough to enjoy opera, music and theatre, week in week out, in London’s fringe theatres, music conservatoires, and international concert halls and opera houses, is the opportunity to encounter striking performances by young talented musicians and then watch with pleasure as they fulfil those sparks of promise.
“It’s forbidden, and where’s the art in that?”
Dublin-born John F. Larchet (1884-1967) might well be described as the father of post-Independence Irish music, given the immense influenced that he had upon Irish musical life during the first half of the 20th century - as a composer, musician, administrator and teacher.
The English Civil War is raging. The daughter of a Puritan aristocrat has fallen in love with the son of a Royalist supporter of the House of Stuart. Will love triumph over political expediency and religious dogma?
Beethoven Symphony no 9 (the Choral Symphony) in D minor, Op. 125, and the Choral Fantasy in C minor, Op. 80 with soloist Kristian Bezuidenhout, Pablo Heras-Casado conducting the Freiburger Barockorchester, new from Harmonia Mundi.
A Louise Brooks look-a-like, in bobbed black wig and floor-sweeping leather trench-coat, cheeks purple-rouged and eyes shadowed in black, Barbara Hannigan issues taut gestures which elicit fire-cracker punch from the Mahler Chamber Orchestra.
‘Signor Piatti in a fantasia on themes from Beatrice di Tenda had also his triumph. Difficulties, declared to be insuperable, were vanquished by him with consummate skill and precision. He certainly is amazing, his tone magnificent, and his style excellent. His resources appear to be inexhaustible; and altogether for variety, it is the greatest specimen of violoncello playing that has been heard in this country.’
Baritone Roderick Williams seems to have been a pretty constant ‘companion’, on my laptop screen and through my stereo speakers, during the past few ‘lock-down’ months.
Melodramas can be a difficult genre for composers. Before Richard Strauss’s Enoch Arden the concept of the melodrama was its compact size – Weber’s Wolf’s Glen scene in Der Freischütz, Georg Benda’s Ariadne auf Naxos and Medea or even Leonore’s grave scene in Beethoven’s Fidelio.
It is not uncommon for opera on DVD to have credits for two directors. In the case of this Paris Capriccio, a new production from June 2004, the credits list Robert Carsen as the stage director and Francois Roussillon as directing for TV and video.
Carsen’s work focuses on bringing energy and movement to this static work, a parlor debate about the primacy of music or words, especially in opera. A brother and sister of nobility act as patrons for a new work, and the young composer and librettist not only vie artistically for primacy, but also to be the Countess’ first choice as paramour (while her brother the Count pursues Clairon, an actress). Meanwhile the proposed director frets that his role is bring slighted, and in a long monologue proposes that without his guiding genius, neither music nor words would come to life. Finally all step aside to get to work, and then the Countess reenters to soliloquize on the glorious unresolved nature of the debate.
The set Carsen works with mirrors the great Paris hall the performance takes place in, with its ornate, golden columns. Although the libretto retains its many references to Gluck as a contemporary opera composer of note, the costumes reflect the era in which Strauss wrote the opera. Dark-clad Nazi officers stray through the set at one point, with no particular purpose in mind.
Now, video director Roussillon had the clever idea of directing a sort of preamble in which Renée Fleming glides through the lobby of the theater, so that all DVD viewers can understand the set’s significance, even if the viewers have never attended an opera in that house. Fine enough.
However, at opera’s end, a very distracting filmed sequence has the cast – including Miss Fleming – taking box seats in the theater to enjoy the Countess’ final monologue. The number of “meaningful glances” exchanged here far exceeds the limit that should be placed on any director, and a coy, artificial feeling that has dogged the entire performance finally overcomes the senses, to an unfortunate degree spoiling the effect of that lovely postlude.
The final stage coup, however, with all the scenery pulling away to reveal the bare interior of the stage, makes for a compensatory climax.
Capriccio is a fragile piece, and without being able to place blame in one exact area, something false about the production hampers and deadens the affair. Perhaps Carsen overdirected, as the performers all work just a bit too hard to have fun. Especially noteworthy here are the cartoonish Italian singers, with some unfunny slapstick. In the huge ensemble section, a compositional miracle from Strauss, the chaotic action distracts from the music’s effect, rather than supporting it.
Carsen certainly has a notable cast to work with. Apart from a couple of tight high notes, Fleming glories in the role, and her dramatic restraint, amidst all the other cavortings, is most welcome. Dietrich Henschel, looking remarkably like the American satirist Harry Shearer, may not be a plausible brother to Fleming but sings well. Rainer Trost and Gerald Finley both appear a little foolish a little too often, which is not their fault, but they have the vocal goods for the roles.
Franz Hawlata makes a huge meal out of his solo, but there is no real character there, in this production. Similarly, Anne Sofie von Otter’s Clarion is all caricature, though she is in good vocal shape and always a charismatic performer. Robert Tear’s little solo scene as the prompter, with the head servant (well played by Petri Lindroos), suffers also from a cartoonish spin. And as mentioned above, Barry Banks and Annamaria Dell’Oste really have to make monkeys of themselves. Yes, they are figures of satire, but as overplayed here, a mean edge creeps in that the creators probably did not intend. Furthermore, as Banks seems to be made up to look a bit like Carlo Bergonzi, those of us who revere the great tenor may find some offense there as well.
No, for Capriccio, surely first choice remains the 1993 San Francisco opera production, with Kiri te Kanawa leading an exemplary cast, including Tatiana Troyanos as a truly stunning and funny Clairon, caught not long before her untimely death. Donald Runnicles leads that performance. Ulf Schirmer and his fine orchestra cannot be faulted at all in this Paris production.
One last cavil – the odd acoustic. On one hand, the voices have perfect placement and any audience present makes not a single cough or rustle. On the other hand, one wonders after a while if the sound picture shouldn’t change a bit when a singer turns his back or moves from stage rear to the front. It does not. Your reviewer almost suspects that this performance was not filmed before a live audience. Although applause greets the end of the performance, no audience is ever shown, and the sense of a performance caught in pristine conditions comes through. The DVD case has no date for the recording, only “June 2004.”
Yes, the cast is great, the music well performed, the sets and costumes imaginative and detailed – but somehow this Capriccio is much, much less than the sum of its considerable parts.
Chris Mullins
Los Angeles Unified School District, Secondary Literacy