of the kosmos

Help! Kiri Te Kanawa interview on SIRIUS tonight (and other things)

2009-04-06T23:48:00.005-04:00

Does anyone know where I can find a recording of the Kiri Te Kanawa interview that took place during the first intermission of Die Walküre tonight on Sirius? I would really appreciate it!

I haven't made time for blogging lately (couldn't you tell?), but maybe I'll get back to it. Funny, when I have time to do it, I have nothing to report.

One thing I will say - Karita Mattila was outstanding in Sibelius's Luonnotar at Carnegie Hall on Saturday night. She used every ounce of her resources. It was a stunning thing to witness.

I had been eager to hear Saariaho's Mirage, but it disappointed me.

I've been attending Cycle I of the Ring at the Met, and I've seen a few other productions this season. Lots of stuff that's new to me - Thaïs (well first stage production I've seen), Il Trovatore, Adriana Lecouvreur (loved it! was surprised that I like it so much), and The Nose (here in Boston).

On Friday, went to Ian Bostridge's Boston recital. Had been eager to hear him live. It's was an all-Schubert program, which isn't such a great thing. He was born to sing Handel, Mozart, Britten, and mélodies - I don't love his Schubert. Still, it was a pleasure to hear him sing those 24 lovely songs.

Final thing to mention before I close this - went on a Patron Backstage Tour of the Met on Saturday. That was so cool. It was quite something to stand on the stage of the Met, and even to walk a bit on the staging of L'elisir d'amore, seeing the auditorium as the performers do. And I caressed the gold curtain.

UPDATE:

Wanted to add: there might be a revival of Thaïs, which would be lovely of course - but, if Renée Fleming is to do another revival, I would rather see a return of Rusalka. I caught the matinee performance last month - I'd last seen this production five years ago, and it was even more beautiful this time around. It's a shame that this gorgeous production, with a first-rate cast, was not captured on DVD. There's definitely a need for such a recording - please, I hope the Met will bring it back as an HD presentation. Really, that final scene, where Rusalka walks on water, is one of the most beautiful things I've seen anywhere.

Also, saw the second preview of Waiting for Godot. I won't go into details - loved the staging, and the acting - it seemed, though, that the actors were still feeling their way around. I look forward to catching another performance or two later in the run.

Caught 33 Variations as well. Wit and Proof have similar themes and are, I might say, masterpieces. I wouldn't say the same of this one. Jane Fonda's performance, however, is something worth seeing. It's Jane Fonda! And I loved her in this part..

"Let's kick ass!"

2008-10-11T18:22:00.002-04:00

So that's what Karita Mattila says before every show. I love it!

Deborah Voigt briefly interviewed Mattila for the opening of today's Live in HD presentation of Salome. I saw last Saturday's performance from a fabulous Grand Tier Box, and it was interesting to revisit the production in a Boston cinema. It worked much better in the house - I don't think the close-ups were flattering to Mattila. At the Met, her energy fills the entire space of the auditorium, such that, at times, it seems as if the walls could barely contain her. On the screen, we see a woman who, in fact, doesn't quite look the part.

The final scene, however, translated beautifully, partly because the camera angles gave a more accurate sense of what it's like to experience this performance in the house.

Not My Typical Ovation Shot

2008-09-23T03:13:00.003-04:00

I stopped posting the good ones on here anyway (I'm selfish - though I do share them with Facebook friends) - but I think this is a pretty great one, given the conditions under which it was taken. I was so far away! :)

Could I just say that Mike Silverman from the Associated Press shouldn't have been allowed in the Met tonight? Because clearly he spent the evening with his head up his ass, as this review shows. It's no secret that I'm a fan of Renée's - I have a great deal of respect and admiration for her as an artist and human being. But even so, I think he probably just wasn't in a good mood tonight? I mean, I'm aware of Renée's weaknesses, but she was in great form tonight, vocally and dramatically.

I think it says a lot that I was moved just a few minutes into the performance. Really. Renée portrays Violetta as a woman of great honor (she's said in recent interviews that Violetta has more integrity than any other character in the opera), and the noble sweetness that she brings to Dite alla giovine is almost unbearably touching. That scene is critical because, just as the first act tests her capacity to love, the first scene of the second act tests the quality and strength of that love. Her rapturous Amami, Alfredo! is a powerful moment because this is not "brb" (as she lies to Alfredo), but rather, "Good-by - because, I love you," as Kate Chopin so eloquently put it. This is all in the score and in the libretto, but you know what's great? Renée gets it.

The first time I heard her live, in a Fort Lauderdale recital in January 2000, what struck me the most was her intelligence. She was beautiful then but not as glamorous as she is now. Her voice was beautiful but the terrible sound in that hall didn't allow its true timbre to shine. Her stage presence was somewhat reserved; she was not as chatty as she is now - with the best stage banter in the classical music business. What came through were the workings of that prodigious mind. If the composer provided a gem, she polished it into brilliance with her keen intelligence.

As revealed in interviews (on the Met's site and during the Live in HD), Renée is fully aware of the intertexuality of Manon Lescaut and La Dame aux Camélias (btw, that the sonnet in Capriccio was actually written by none other than Ronsard completes the trio of French literary sources in tonight's gala). We need more singers who are aware of of the literary history of the works they sing, because they were created in and for a culture of people who appreciated these resonances. Think of the Lucia scene in Madame Bovary and the ways in which hearing that opera opens a floodgate of memories for Emma - of her past as a reader of the Walter Scott text, of the disconnect between her dreams and her reality, of the girl she used to be and the woman she is now...that spellbinding scene of tension and opposition is rendered all the more powerful because of these layers of meaning. And this is the sort of depth that I witness in every Renée Fleming performance.

She's now one of the lyric stage's finest actresses - this became clear to me upon observing roles she's repeated after a long gap. Her 2007 Met Violetta was worlds apart from her 2003 Houston version, and her 2007 Zurich Arabella revealed countless nuances that were absent from her 2001 Met outing in the part. The Met's opening night gala tonight allowed her to revisit scenes from roles on which she's made her mark - and it was fascinating to watch a great artist as she explores new territory on familiar ground. A little laugh here, a new ornament there - there's always something new when you attend a Renée Fleming performance. She has said that she wants us to forget that she's singing - and when she's at her best, this does happen, in an odd way, because we're so involved with the characters.

On to some other stuff. We arrived at the cinema at 5pm and I asked the staff whether there might be a line for the Met simulcast. I was told that it's "over there," and that it's "already big." I headed over and, I swear there were some 30 people already waiting there. And boy were they scary! This crowd was not unlike the audience at the Met Guild events. They get there way early and they will totally kill you if you get in their way. (We call them "Old Bitches.") My friend went to get coffee across the street and I frantically texted her to return, as I feared for my life.

They were pretty well-behaved during the show, so that's good, because I'm seeing 10 more of these simulcasts at this cinema.

How cool was it to see Nico Muhly!? I'm such a fan. Buy his CDs! (Btw, he's currently my favorite blogger.) His concert here at the Museum of Fine Arts last month, with Sam Amidon and Doveman, was one of the musical highlights of the year. Susan Graham is a smart lady and it's unfortunate that she wasted their interview time asking him those "what's your favorite color" questions - there's so much one could ask him! I will definitely want to be at the opening night of his opera - that's something I'm dying to witness.

It was also cool to see Rufus Wainwright make faces at the camera during Graham's interview with Martha Stewart. Haha! By the way, what's the name of the liqueur that Stewart used in her Grande Dame cocktail? I missed that. Rufus distracted me. (Btw, Sarah wonderfully documented parts of our experience a couple weeks ago at the Apollo with Renée Fleming, Rufus Wainwright and Elvis Costello.)

The last thing I have time to say (I'm falling asleep) is that it's sometimes overwhelming to experience opera on the big screen - opera, as it is, is larger than life (as Francesco Clemente suggested of divas), and seeing this stuff on that giant screen can be really intense. In a good way. I'm with Ann Patchett on this - I'm a huge fan of Live in HD. I love the backstage access and the interviews - which, by the way, were so well-produced tonight. Sure, we didn't hear Graham for the first minute or so, but they fixed it. Same with the subtitles (fortunately I know that scene so well..).

And I just heard about MetPlayer, which sounds wonderfully convenient (and it's nice if you have a huge monitor and great speakers or headphones).

This is a great time to be an opera buff! Best wishes for an awesome season.

UPDATE: The Met posted Martha's cocktail recipe here

I'm coming back

2008-09-20T19:44:00.001-04:00

Yeah, I really am.

So Classy

2008-09-16T15:54:00.003-04:00

Check this out:

I saw it on TV last night. Anyone know the music? I don't recognize it.

UPDATE: OK, so it's "Stride la vampa" from Trovatore

In other news - I have an extra ticket to Chris Botti's concert here in Boston on Friday. He's performing with the Boston Pops under Keith Lockhart, and special guests are Sting, Steven Tyler and Yo-Yo Ma. Surprise guests are anticipated as well.

I messed up - I meant to buy a ticket for Thursday's concert, but selected the wrong date. On Friday I'm seeing Sigur Rós.

Beckett Marathon at Lincoln Center - Who needs a ticket?

2008-07-08T19:43:00.004-04:00

So, I will return to this blog - in the meantime, I'm wondering if anyone needs a ticket for the Beckett marathon at Lincoln Center on Sunday the 27th. I have an extra one! Just shoot me an email.

UPDATE: The ticket's spoken for. :)

March

2008-04-05T04:00:00.003-04:00

I didn't blog on it, but I had quite an eventful March. I did make it to the last Otello at the Met, and the following weekend I was in Boca Raton for two events at Festival of the Arts Boca: a conversation between Renée Fleming and Ann Patchett, and Fleming's concert, which closed the festival. I reported on the events elsewhere; maybe I'll drag that stuff over here at some point. I had an amazing time, attending VIP receptions and talking to some awesome people.

My calendar is clear for the immediate future, as teaching and preparing for my general exam have me very preoccupied. The only thing I have scheduled is Margaret Cho's show in Boston tonight. I hope she'll be funny.

David Pogue on Blog Comments

2008-03-28T21:20:00.001-04:00

The quality of discussion on Pogue's Posts is just astonishing. An assistant and I moderate the comments (which sometimes run into the hundreds for a single post), removing comments containing spam or obscenities. But otherwise, we approve every single comment. And the humor, wisdom and good nature on display is just amazing. If you compared these comments with the unmoderated ones on, say, YouTube, you would assume these were forums patronized by completely different species.

Bummer, pt. 4

2008-03-01T21:04:00.003-05:00

Had a ticket to Saturday's matinée of Otello at the Met with Johan Botha and Renée Fleming. Canceled the trip because I've been sick for a few weeks--it hasn't let up--and a round-trip trek to New York in crappy weather is not what I need right now.

Called the Met to have the ticket reprinted and left in a friend's name. If all goes well, I'll see this production on its last night a week from today.

Change

2008-01-31T03:57:00.000-05:00

Want to know how things have changed?

I have, somewhere in my condo, two front-row-center tickets to Kiri Te Kanawa's recital in Palm Beach. The event took place last night. I was in Cambridge, Mass.

Yesterday was the first day of Spring semester classes, and I was asked to be here for a course I am co-teaching. What's more, in the afternoon I met with my advisor and spent a wonderful hour discussing my next few years at this glorious university.

I don't regret having missed Kiri's recital. This from someone who used to say that the worst thing to happen in his life was oversleeping in his hotel room and missing Karita Mattila's recital in Paris...

I still attend performances. Recently: an exquisite recital by David Daniels at Jordan Hall; the first preview of Sunday in the Park with George at Studio 54; Deborah Warner's stunning production of Beckett's Happy Days at BAM, starring the extraordinary Fiona Shaw (bonus: spotted Kathleen Turner in the lobby); and the MET Chamber Ensemble's gratifying Webern/Berg/Schoenberg program with James Levine conducting and on piano, joined by Gil Shaham, Yefim Bronfman and the unstoppable Anja Silja, who looked as elegant as ever, and who, in delivering those grotesque lines, never failed to make us shiver to our bones.

Iphigénie en Tauride at the Met

2007-12-15T15:15:00.000-05:00

"World indoor premiere" of Golijov's Azul with Yo-Yo Ma; Bummer, pt. 3

2007-12-09T03:13:00.001-05:00

Here is where I'll write on my bounty of Yo-Yo Ma encounters, if I get a chance.

Bummer update: on Saturday, I missed Iphigénie at the Met - for which I was to be seated in Parterre Box 1 - to attend an all-day conference at Harvard. It was absolutely worth it this time, however! I'm going to try to make it to the Met for Friday's performance. Anyone have a ticket?

BSO, James Levine, and Renee Fleming perform new Henri Dutilleux and rare orchestrated Duparc

2007-11-30T17:32:00.000-05:00

Last night, the Boston Symphony Orchestra under James Levine performed the American premiere of Henri Dutilleux's Le temps l'horloge, a group of three songs featuring soloist Renee Fleming. When the nine-minute cycle ended, Fleming shielded her eyes from the bright stage lights and searched for M. Dutilleux in the crowd. The 91-year-old composer, seated in the orchestra's center aisle, about a dozen rows back, slowly stood up and, with the aid of a cane, proceeded to make his way to the stage. The audience, witnessing the frail figure of a venerable man, rose to its feet and bathed him in cheers and applause.

At this afternoon's performance, the same thing happened, but this time I got it on video.

More commentary to come.

[Note: Last night, Fleming wore her green Dior mermaid gown, but this afternoon she wore something different, with different earrings, no Rolex, and the large ring was on her left hand, not her right. Yes, the fashion report is crucial.]

UPDATE: I'll also report on the amazing experience of the Silk Road Ensemble's performance of member Jonathan Ganelsman's arrangement of Hajibeyov's Layla and Majnun.

UPDATE - (Sunday, December 2, 1:16pm):
So, it's now Sunday. I was lucky enough to attend all three concerts of the Berlioz/Dutilleux/Duparc/Debussy program. Here are some observations.

The program was too long. At the first concert, I noted that there were some magical moments in the Berlioz (about 45 minutes of orchestral excerpts from Romeo et Juliette, which I saw complete at the BSO three years ago with Lorraine Hunt Lieberson and Matthew Polenzani), but it was just too long for a program whose raison d'etre was the American premiere of a new work by a revered composer, who wrote the piece for The Diva. I mean, 45 minutes of Berlioz followed by 9 minutes of Dutilleux? What gives? I skipped the Berlioz at the second concert, but decided to give it another try at the third concert. Sure enough, having heard the vocal pieces twice already, I was still as excited as ever but the anticipation wasn't unbearable, so I did very much enjoy the Berlioz. The love scene is so tender, so quiet, the theme very simple, with a limpid quality that the orchestra realized so gently and lovingly.

Renee did the right thing in switching to a black dress with gloves for the second and third concerts. I didn't think the green Dior was right for this program. :)

She was in splendid voice throughout. The seamless legato was there, as was the trademark creamy tone. The first song, "Le Temps l'horloge," has a start-and-stop rhythm that reflects the text, which contrasts the seen and unseen passing of time. Time is "seen" when it passes in the clock; otherwise, it passes "among [in] us noiselessly / like a thief in the night." The piece ends with a magical rising flourish and just disappears - it's brilliant. In his pre-concert talk on Thursday Mark Mandel said the song evaporates into space and time.

The second song, "Le masque," sketches the strange, vague "Visage" of a mask. Renee tells the story and it's kind of creepy and mysterious. In the program notes Thomas May observes, "The vocal line's wide-ranging intervals seem palpably to trace the object" (59). We get a vague, broad sense of what this thing is, but we have only an outline. On the last line, there's a huge interval on "cristaux," and on the second syllable Renee's voice sounds exactly like crystals.

The third song, "Le dernier poeme," is very sad. The poem is only about eight short lines long, but the word "shadow" appears six times. The music is appropriately shadowy; it's a quiet lament.

Hearing orchestrated Duparc songs is a rare pleasure. Hearing Renee sing "L'invitation au voyage" and "Extase" is a highlight of my concert-going life thus far. We all knows these songs; just imagine them sung to perfection.

Renee's French throughout was superb. I should note, however, that she has a tendency to paraphrase or change words, which is normal, though distracting for those who know the texts. It's funny because speaking a language probably makes it easier to confuse words. :)

La Mer was beautifully sketched. And Levine really loves to highlight the Wagner in anything. Fine by me.

Thursday concert was festive; Friday's was happy (lots of smiles from Renee and Levine); and Saturday's was somber. Last night Renee brought out the sadness and longing in the texts. Those attending the New York concert tomorrow, please get in touch with me with your thoughts.

Bummer, pt. 2

2007-11-28T19:57:00.000-05:00

So, the NEC basically sucks. Don't [] announce that you're hosting a Renee Fleming master class that's open to the public and then turn around and [] restrict it to your "students, staff, faculty and board members." Sometimes events at my institution (Harvard) are restricted to ID-holders, and that practice is perfectly understandable. But really, don't tell people they're invited to the party and then turn around and uninvite them. []

Meanwhile, this afternoon I attended instead a soporific lecture at Harvard's New College Theater; the event was, however, saved by the glorious Silk Road Ensemble, led by Yo-Yo Ma. The group--currently in residence at Harvard--is rehearsing a chamber version of the 1908 opera Layla and Manjun by Uzeyir Hajibeyov, from Azerbaijan. We heard just a brief excerpt, and we were absolutely floored. The two vocalists, Alim Qasimov and his daughter Fargana Qasimova, closed their eyes and delivered some of the most awe-inspiring singing I have ever heard. I don't have a ticket but I am surely going to make every effort to work my way into the audience for Friday's free "work-in-progress" performance of the Ensemble's arrangement of the full opera.

Bummer

2007-10-27T10:06:00.000-04:00

I'm about to call the Met to donate my parterre ticket to this afternoon's Madama Butterfly at the Met - its last performance this season. I just have too much work. :(

The Wallflowers at the Somerville Theater in Davis Square

2007-10-21T22:59:00.000-04:00

1) Jakob Dylan is an extremely good-looking man. This should be mentioned more often.

2) I hate drunk people.

SET LIST (with my binoculars I could read it pretty clearly):

Shy of the Moon
Building
6th Avenue
Passenger
-------
Hand Me Down
Mourning Train
Delivered
Up from Under
God Says Nothing Back
God Don't Make Lonely Girls
Witness
-------
Wasteland
Sick
Closer to You
Nearly Beloved
Everybody out of the Water
--------
Baby Bird
3 Marlenas
Everything I Need

SOMERVILLE THEATER, SOMERVILLE, MA
OCTOBER 31

'Nuff Said: Golijov's Ainadamar in Boston

2007-10-21T18:44:00.000-04:00

Following today's matinee performance at the Cutler Majestic, there was an "Artist Talkback" moderated by Richard Dyer. To close, he asked of the four-person panel, "Can art save the world?" Dawn Upshaw eagerly gestured for the microphone and simply answered, "Yes." And that was that.

Today's performance reminded me of the first time I saw Brokeback Mountain. I had read Annie Proulx's story, which moved me immensely, and I thought the film was beautiful, but it also left me cold. I didn't shed a tear. But on the walk home, I realized, as I approached my building, that a massive pool of emotion had been quietly accumulating during the film.

The metaphor serves Ainadamar well, not in the least because the title means "Fountain of Tears." Tears were shed during the performance, but the work ends quietly, almost soothingly. No crashing fortissimo chords. It just fades, folding into memory.

And then there's the walk home.

I have more thoughts to share - I have to head to Somerville Theater for The Wallflowers...

Tori Amos in Boston

2007-10-20T03:10:00.001-04:00

So, after Kiri's beautifully sung and extraordinarily satisfying recital on Sunday, I thought I'd be pretty bored at Tori Amos's concert - especially since I found her Paris stop on this tour to be a snooze (she was extremely subdued that night), ditto recent TV appearances (Leno a couple weeks ago). The new album has a silly concept (four characters that are not Tori, and their names come from Greek goddesses and it's all very kitschy).

On this tour, Tori starts "Act I" as one of the four characters that are not Tori, and changes into her Tori costume for the rest of the show. It's sorta interesting in a performative sense (think Judith Butler), but, eh. I went to the fourth show on the tour, in Paris, and there Tori debuted Clyde, the fourth character she presented. Tonight in Boston, it was Clyde again.

I wasn't disappointed to see the same character, for two reasons. One, Clyde's makeup and wig suit Tori extremely well - she looked lovely. Two, Clyde has some nice songs, and "Bouncing Off of Clouds" is a killer opening number.

The voice was a bit weak in this song, her current single, but it was out in full force for the rest of the show, starting with "Little Earthquakes." Tori uses both chest and head extensively - she spends much time in her gravel-toned lower register, and for special moments she soars into a shimmering soprano realm, often above the staff. In "Little Earthquakes," she dazzled with her coloratura runs near the end. "Sugar" (!), "Northern Lad", and the closing number, "Hey Jupiter" (Dakota version), all featured extended passages that allowed her to shine vocally. It's a classical sound, very unusual in rock/alternative music, and Tori exploits it extremely well.

Her phrasing is never careless. She means the text. The gorgeous lyrical interlude of "Space Dog" tugged at the heart strings, and "Merman" made me cry. There was another song I did not recognize - perhaps an improv (she does an improv at each of the shows on this tour, and she did one tonight on border-crossing, but this isn't the song I'm referring to) - that was the most moving thing I had ever heard her song. Something about a well and having an ocean to swim in. I thought it might be dedicated to her niece, who was in the audience. She said her niece called her a "MILF" and keeps her "fucking hot" (Tori touched her ass and made a sizzling noise).

I haven't even mentioned her keyboard-playing. She had a Boesendorfer grand piano (as always) as well as an organ and a keyboard. Many times she straddled her piano bench, her left hand working the piano, her right hand on the organ or keyboard. At the opening of "Bells for Her," her mic had come undone at the back, and she kept playing like this, at times trying to fix it with one hand, until she gave a cut throat signal to a stage hand who came to fix her mic pack as she continued playing. Once her mic has been fixed, she began singing as if nothing had happened. Can we say ambidextrous?

There was much impressive playing, but "Cornflake Girl" contains some of the most awe-inspiring and virtuosic passagework you'll ever see at a rock concert.

Tonight was special. It was good to see Tori perform another great show - the Paris show this year was the only disappointing one I have seen, and that may be because just two years earlier I'd heard her solo (where she's best - the current tour is with her band) at four amazingly moving concerts.

Kiri Te Kanawa in Boston

2007-10-15T02:14:00.000-04:00

Kiri is an impossible 63 and her voice is as beautiful as ever, her technique just as flawless, her cool elegance just as cool and elegant.

I feel incredibly lucky to have heard the perfect "Morgen!".

Click here for the revised program. I was delighted to hear the two Puccini arias, and Kiri's vamping during the Ginastera number (and her sensuous, idomatic command of Poulenc) suggested that she would make an awesome cabaret singer.

Kiri will always be remembered for her crisp diction, ineffably beautiful voice, and gorgeous stage presence.

When a fly threatened to upstage her [brb]

Drew Faust's Inauguration at Harvard

2007-10-12T17:42:00.001-04:00

So, we have a new president. At the inauguration, the use of African and Indian music was very welcome, and Simon Estes gave a beautiful rendition of "Amazing Grace." I enjoyed watching Toni Morrison on the stage. People don't talk about this enough, but her preternaturally striking and unforgettable face, like Beckett's, is as interesting as her prodigious oeuvre. I missed her reading yesterday, but of course I was there at the Louvre about a year ago, where she first read from the novel she's currently writing (still "very, very, very much in progress").

Faust delivered a well-written [brb]

Boston Symphony Orchestra's All-Ravel Programs (Oct. 4th and 6th); Lucia at the Met; Honk! at Harvard Square

2007-10-08T20:20:00.000-04:00

I had a fun weekend.

Excellent Interview with Kiri Te Kanawa

2007-10-08T20:13:00.001-04:00

You've got to hear Dame Kiri tell the story of her Met debut, make reference to the personal sacrifices she's made for her career, and wistfully state, "Fate doesn't give you that chance," when asked if she would do anything differently.

She's the picture of cool elegance, and she was my first diva.

Natalie Dessay's Lucia at the Met last night

2007-09-25T19:07:00.000-04:00

Apparently the Met uploaded the mad scene to YouTube.

UPDATE:

And they're gone. Rats, I didn't get a chance to save. :-/

I'm coming back soon...

2007-09-20T18:30:00.000-04:00

...in my new format...stay tuned...

Kiri Te Kanawa saves the Vancouver Recital Society

2007-09-08T09:38:00.000-04:00

News from Vancouver:

Because of the ongoing civic strike closing down the Orpheum, fans were worried the much anticipated show [Kiri's first stop on her Farewell Recital Tour] would either be cancelled or moved to a venue, as the Sun reported, like a car dealership.
To accommodate ticket holders the soprano will now perform two shows, one on September 20 at 8 p.m. and another on September 23 at 8 p.m.
"We are most fortunate that Vancouver is the first date on the farewell tour," says Leila Getz, Artistic & Executive Director of the VRS.
"Dame Kiri is willing to come to Vancouver earlier than planned to perform an additional concert in order to accommodate the re-allocation of all ticket holders into the smaller Chan Centre venue. She has been extraordinarily generous."

My understanding is that she agreed to this without doubling her fee.

New Blog: Afternoon Concert

2007-09-06T22:57:00.000-04:00

A Harvard undergrad, WHRB announcer: Afternoon Concert

Should Anna Netrebko shut up?

2007-09-02T22:58:00.000-04:00

Recent interviews have shown Anna Netrebko to be something of a flake. Boy is she entertaining. I say give her a reality show. After all, mainstream culture has Paris, Lindsay and Britney. We have Anna.

omg knock it off, perverts!

2007-09-01T22:33:00.000-04:00

Recent search words that led surfers to this blog:

karita mattila breasts

renee fleming's breasts

angela denoke, breasts

nackt or sexy or nude "catherine naglestad" [covering all bases?]

karita mattila nackt

karita mattila salome nude

karita mattila naked picture

elina garanca nude nackt

angela denoke nackt

"angela denoke" breast salome

picture of mouth of a jamaican boa [wtf?]

Better Get to Livin'

2007-08-31T05:10:00.000-04:00

Um, Dolly Parton's new single was released on iTunes a couple days ago. Get it.

Her new CD, Backwoods Barbie, will be released in February. After some amazing bluegrass CDs (it was during her promotional tour for the stunning Little Sparrow that I "discovered" her), she's returning to "mainstream" country.

Her first official music site is here. Pending the full site's launch, there's a cool photo slide show and some of her famous quotes.

The paradox of Dolly Parton: she looks so fake, but she's soooo not. She's the real thing...her songwriting, her singing, even her shtick, which always rings true.

Oh, Dolly. I'm just a little happier knowing that you're around and livin'.

I Love YouTube

2007-08-29T19:34:00.000-04:00

So, back in the fall of 2004 I missed this because I heard about it too late. I remember I'd had a pretty dreary night and I deeply regretted the chance to see Renee on late-night TV.

That was life pre-YouTube. Well, it's taken a while, but someone has finally uploaded the performance...and what an interesting performance it is! Lots of ornaments in there...it's fun. William Christie told Renee to sing Handel as jazz...she sure listens to him. :)

2006-07: A Final Accounting

2007-08-21T04:39:00.001-04:00

OK, so I decided to take a look at my iCal in order to determine the number of performances I attended last season.

The number is...really big.

I can't quite wrap my head around it.

At the end of the 2005-06 season, I listed the performances I attended, and I got some attention for it.

I wouldn't even consider doing such a thing for last season, because I'm not sure it casts a positive light on me. It just shows that I spent a very hedonistic year.

I guess that's what Europe does to an opera buff?

Oh, and a little update: I now have a few tickets in hand...Metropolitan Opera tickets...

Secret Weapon

2007-08-16T15:56:00.000-04:00

In a few weeks, I'll unveil a new format, the likes of which remains unchartered territory for shy, anonymous opera bloggers...

Estivation

2007-08-14T14:49:00.000-04:00

I last heard an unamplified classical voice on June 19th (Zurich, Renee Fleming singing the words "Ich kann nicht anders werden, nimm mich wie ich bin!"), and I last heard a classical voice on June 22nd (St-Denis, Dawn Upshaw's (amplified) voice gently fading into the unbearably beautiful ending of Ayre). Not attending performances has allowed me to focus on other things in life, such as work, friends, and activities of daily living (haha).

But a couple months of that is enough. I am not well. I'm starving. I'm falling into a depression! Renee, I miss you!

My academic schedule in 2007-08 will make attending performances a bit tricky. But gosh darn it, I'll make it work. This . . . silence . . . has reminded me just how important vocal music is in my life. Recordings don't help at all; they only make me yearn for the real thing. At the moment I feel trapped in an acoustic wasteland, and without one single ticket in hand for next season, I don't see a way out...

Anyone going through a similar withdrawal?

Have a great summer, everybody!

2007-06-21T23:42:00.000-04:00

Julia Kleiter, Morten Frank Larsen, and Renee Fleming following a performance of "Arabella" at the Zurich Opera, June 16, 2007. Please link to this blog if you decide to use this photo anywhere.

About-face: Closing night of Lohengrin at the Bastille

2007-06-12T08:16:00.000-04:00

OK, so, I take back what I said about Mireille Delunsch's Elsa. Heard in excellent form last night, she's an outstanding Elsa. Her voice is creamy yet has a steely strength that's ideal for the part's wickedly high tessitura. At certain moments, I fantasized about hearing that voice sing Salome. Her solid acting also moved me. She was every inch the serene blonde girl dreaming about her savior. In the third act, plagued by doubt, she became frantically unhinged, running upstage into the darkness armed with a dim flame, imagining the arrival of the swan to take away her lover and savior.

There are few things as amazing as Ben Heppner on a good night. His clarion, ringing sound, and his musical, intelligent phrasing melt my heart. Last night he sang with relative ease, showing little of the strain that was in full display at the performance I attended last week.

It occurred to me that Ortrud has so very little to sing in the first act, and yet Waltraud Meier seemed to dominate the crowded stage. Her dramatic presence was so powerful that when she emerged on the balcony, at the end of the second act, to glare at Lohengrin and Elsa, standing hand in hand on the opposite balcony, I nearly jumped out of my seat. The expression on her face was so evil that if she had shot me a glance, I swear I would have turned to stone.

The orchestra played splendidly. The trouble in the strings last week was not present last night. I greatly admire the vitality and spontaneity of Gergiev's reading of the score.

The cast was exuberant during multiple curtain calls, and the sold-out crowd was on its feet. I heard very few people around me speaking French; Wagnerites had traveled from all over to witness this star-studded production.

One thing about the staging: last week, I was puzzled that Elsa's brother planted a sapling at the very end of the opera. But last night it made sense. He had been anointed by a knight of the grail, who had emerged from the lush forest symbolic of his faraway land. The planting of a tree in the barren, war-torn wasteland of Brabant is a symbol of hope. As the tree grows and flourishes, so will he. Meier pointed at him and leaned over the balcony, extending her fingers like talons. But she couldn't reach him; evil had been conquered.

On my way to the Bastille, I saw a poster in the Luxembourg RER station, and boy am I glad I did, because I have just ordered a ticket to this:

What luck! Just two days before I leave Paris, Osvaldo Golijov will conduct, at the Festival de St-Denis, the French premiere of Ayre with Dawn Upshaw, Gustavo Santaolalla, and the Andalucian Dogs! What a send-off...

Lohengrin in Paris; Trittico at the Met; 110 in the Shade on Broadway

2007-06-06T09:08:00.000-04:00

OK, so a bit of catching up. The highlight of the Met's Trittico (seen on closing night at the Met, with an audience that included Joseph Volpe in the General Manager's box), for me, was the wrenching final scene of Suor Angelica, exquisitely sung by the lustrous Barbara Frittoli. The idea of doing something that can't be undone, and begging for forgiveness--it's heartbreaking. Everyone was in tears. Some were practically bawling. Tissues were passed around. I first saw this opera in Miami some ten years ago. Diana Soviero, one of the great Angelicas, sang that night. Hearing the opera revived the memories of that great performance.

Earlier that day, I caught the matinee of Roundabout's revival of 110 in the Shade. I enjoyed every minute. I really don't care that it's not a great musical. There are no words for Audra McDonald's talents. I got chills when she first sang, with those little maybes. That preternaturally beautiful voice. It was a privilege to see pour her whole self into the part. She cried in more than one scene. Yes, her father's recent tragedy was on my mind. I reflected on what she said in an interview ("The show keeps me going") and the performance took on even more weight. At the stage door, she was nothing but gracious, signing autographs and posing for photos. Someone commented on her tears during the show, and she replied that it's an emotional role for her. There was a certain sadness in her eyes that I'll never forget. Sadness, but she looked each of us right in the eye and smiled, as if we were all that mattered in that moment. That mutual sense of gratitude is so precious.

Lizzie's story resonates with me on so many levels. It's too personal for the limits of this blog, so I'll leave it at that. What I will say is that I wholeheartedly embrace the "be yourself" message, which may be trite, but it's absolutely true.

I have an update on the Matthias Goerne saga (I missed him at Tanglewood in 2005 and in Paris this past April). Well, I bought a ticket for his Philadelphia recital, hoping to catch that program that I'd missed in Paris, but I missed Philly too. Work called. His wasn't the only performance I missed. I remained in the States and missed Rufus Wainwright's Paris concert. Because I stayed near school, I also missed the Met Orchestra's concert and Spring Awakening (I gave up my front-row-center seat). But such is life. I'll see Awakening next month.

Last night I was front-row-center, this time at the Bastille for Lohengrin with Ben Heppner, Mireille Delunsch, and Waltraud Meier, under Valery Gergiev. Gergiev took the podium sixteen minutes after the scheduled curtain. The audience had become rowdy, booing and hissing. He was greeted with sparse, reluctant applause. He conducted a riveting performance. There was some weakness in the strings, but the brass sounded fantastic.

Heppner had some vocal trouble, cracking twice and Act II and sounding as if he were coming apart at the seams. Before Act III, it was announced that he had taken ill but would continue. He sounded fine in Act III--In fernem Land was stunning, with ringing high notes and a beautiful dramatic arc. It was Delunsch who suffered in Act III, sounding strained and even cracking once or twice. With the exception of occasional fine moments, I found Delunsch to be miscast, her voice lacking the weight for this rather heavy part. She sang the notes (though she transposed the high note at the climactic moment when Elsa asks Lohengrin his name), but compromised the beauty of her tone. It's a strange role, because Elsa must sound pure and angelic, but make no mistake, it's a dramatic soprano role. Anyway, I had to compare her Elsa with Karita Mattila's stunning performance at the Met in May 2006, and, really, few could live up to that. I should also say that Klaus Florian Vogt, also heard at the Met, strikes me as a far more suitable Lohengrin than Heppner. Heppner's voice simply does not seem comfortable in the part. I will see how he does on closing night next week.

Waltraud Meier stole the show as Ortrud. Whenever she was on stage, it was impossible not to look at her. She was in excellent form and held back none of the dazzling power of her voice. Her two entrances on the set's right balcony (ending of Acts II and III) inspired awe. I will never forget the menacing look on her face as she glowered at the couple...

The staging of this revival worked. I have no idea what it's supposed to represent, but it looks like a random war zone in the 20th century. What I loved was Lohengrin's entrance. A large door opens in the rear, and we see a lush forest and a medieval knight in shining armor. The contrast between the abysmal, hopeless setting of the "kingdom" and the magical realm of the swan-knight was moving and effective. It really is a surprise to everyone that Elsa's dream knight actually appears, and Carsen's idea attempts to double that effect. It also helps to explain why Ortrud is able to persuade Elsa to doubt the knight's origins--I mean, he really seemed to come out of a fairy tale.

That's all for now--thanks to Sarah for encouraging me to post!

I know, I'm a deadbeat blogger . . .

2007-05-10T14:22:00.000-04:00

Backyard view, Miami

. . . but life has been fabulous lately. I have no idea how to blog about it. Renee Fleming, Evgeny Kissin, Esa-Pekka Salonen, Michael Tilson Thomas. Strauss, Korngold, Dvorak, Sibelius. Vier letzte Lieder. Music, literature, conversation. Spring blossoms in New York, sunsets in Miami. I think I'll leave it at that for now, as I write this . . . im Abendrot . . .

Update:

I forgot to mention something, so I'll be lazy and link to other people who were also too busy to write more than a line or two (yeah, that's how bad it is). Alex Ross and Sieglinde both had praise for the Met's Mark Morris Orfeo, which, as I told my friends on opening night, I loved.

Just a flash: Angela Denoke stars in L'Affaire Makropoulos at the Bastille

2007-05-01T12:48:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to write a brief note on Denoke's performance in Paris last night. It was a thing of astonishing beauty. She was every inch the diva, and yet her portrayal of Elina's ennui and solitude was heartbreaking. Her cool timbre was an ideal match for this part. There's one moment I will never forget. When Emily shows Gregor the scar on her neck, Denoke pulled down the right strap of her dress and exposed her breast*. So many men have tried to kill her, she says. Her body is covered with scars. The exposure of her breast was moving because it underlined her indifference to her body. She carries those scars, but they're only scars; her body is immortal. She has no use for happiness, because she knows that she will never die. How moving that she says she loved only one man in those 337 years. She reminds me of both Kundry and (Wilde's) Salome. Kundry's longing for peace. Salome's mysterious desire. All three characters are monsters, monstrous women who have to die, because only death can contain their desire. Good and bad lose currency. Love is impossible. They are alone, and this life is too small for them.

Krzysztof Warlikowsk production was filled with clever and thoughtful ideas. And yes, the King Kong moments were way cool. Yes, Elina is an immortal star (many of them, in fact), and she is, like him, a monster. At a Pleins Feux event with Gerard Mortier last week, Warlikowsk "answered" an audience question about the use of King Kong. (Actually the man asking the question referred to the "dinosaur," haha.) He said there were many, many reasons, and that he can't give one answer. But he mentioned the fact that King Kong is an ape like we are. He referred to the human "myth." "Eternity." "Contact with a myth that's irrational." It's funny, I get what he's saying. That's one of the interesting things about his production: it stimulates you, but you're not sure how to articulate what you're seeing.

The orchestra, under Tomas Hanus, sounded fabulous.

This opera needs to return to the Met. I'd love to see Karita Mattila in the Met's striking production. Catherine Malfitano starred in it under Sir Charles Mackerras on closing night of the 2000-01 season--that was my first opera at the Met!

PS: Věc Makropulos/The Makropulos Affair/The Makropulos Case--how should we call it????

* Later in the scene, she bared both breasts during an on-stage costume change. Yes, I'm aware that this is the soprano who allowed the tenor playing Herod to lick her breasts in a recent German production of Salome...

Be Back in Two Weeks

2007-04-25T13:28:00.000-04:00

Sorry to leave you hanging in recent posts, but work is very intense and I will be away from this blog for two weeks. I'll wrap up reports on Thais and Boccanegra, and I'll also post on a few upcoming events: the new King Kong Makropulos Affair at the Bastille; the Met's new Mark Morris Orfeo; and Renee Fleming's concerts with Esa-Pekka Salonen (Strauss/Korngold in New York) and Michael Tilson Thomas (Vier letzte Lieder in Miami).

Thanks for reading! Peace.

Thaïs at the Châtelet: Wrap-up Post

2007-04-22T13:30:00.000-04:00

Gerald Finley (Athanaël) and Renée Fleming (Thaïs) during curtain calls on April 21, 2007, following the last of three performances at the Châtelet in Paris.

I was lucky to attend all three performances last week, and I also attended a performance of Simon Boccanegra, starring Dmitri Hvorostovsky, at the Bastille. More later; see previous posts for some commentary on Thaïs.

Video: Gerald Finley (Athanaël) and Renée Fleming (Thaïs) following Act II of a concert performance of Massenet's April 21, 2007 at the Châtelet in Paris

Radu Lupu at the Châtelet; more thoughts on Karita Mattila; more thoughts on Thaïs

2007-04-17T16:59:00.000-04:00

I attend a number of orchestral concerts and instrumental recitals every season, but I seldom blog about them, as there's so little I can really say. I can speak about voice, as I know a little bit about singing. And vocal music, with its use of text and theater, is probably more accessible to non-musicians than instrumental music.

My mind always wanders at a piano recital. It's amazing sometimes. I start thinking about one thing, and a few minutes later my head is on something totally different, and I play a little game where I backtrack, attempting to uncover the sequence of thoughts, all the way back to the first. It's not that I'm not paying attention to the recital. It's strange. It's as if a piano recital were for me some bizarre invitation au voyage; I find myself in places I could never access otherwise.

As I noticed at Lupu's performance of Schumann at Daniel Barenboim's Mahler Festival at the same venue last fall, he's a quietly compelling musician. It was remarkable how he used four completely different styles in his program of Schubert, Debussy, Brahms and Beethoven. There were two stunningly beautiful and lyrical encores, but I have no idea what they were.

At some point during Lupu's recital--which, by the way, lasted about 2.5 hours--Mattila floated back into my head. I remembered the gentle, sad swaying of her first encore, Als die alte Mutter. She announced it with: "Everybody knows this, but just in case: it's Dvořák." She referred to it as her "favorite" and "sad." With an introduction like that, how could it not be even more memorable? It was a softly etched performance, deeply felt and staggeringly perfect.

In introducing the second encore, she said, "There is one Finnish composer . . . I hope you didn't get enough!" We all laughed out loud. She sang a Sibelius song, set to a Swedish text, as Swedish is the "second native language" in Finland. She said that in this song, "spring speeds up," and added, "which we all hope!" True, spring has yet to arrive in the Northeast. Martin Katz was translating the text for her, and she stopped him and said, "Why don't you!?", asking him to translate it for the audience. He did that and joked, "Swedish maven that I am," with "blond hair."

When Mattila emerged for her third encore, she picked up the large bouquet that she had placed on the piano during her first curtain call. She caressed it during the introduction, first two verses, and halfway through the third verse of Gershwin's "The Man I Love," sung not in a jazz voice, but in her full dramatic soprano. At that point, she slowly turned her back to us and placed the bouquet on the piano. Suddenly, she turned around, and sang fortissimo "Maybe Tuesday will be my good news day!" The house went insane. There was laughter (not from me, my jaw was on the floor), but not because she was silly. Rather, people had no idea how to react to such an outsize personality. I am under the impression that Mattila is one of those artists who becomes herself on stage. It's her authentic mode of existence. So what we saw wasn't over the top; it was simply who she is. She doesn't hold back; she gives you the real thing, with no apologies.

There's so much I could say about the Finnish songs, but I'll only say one thing, and this is for those of you who will attend her upcoming recitals on this tour. Watch out for "Kun païva paistaa" ("When the sun shines") by Oskar Merikanto. In my program I wrote: "I have never heard so much sunshine in a voice."

Still haven't recovered . . .

UPDATE:

I noticed that for tonight's recital, the Châtelet didn't clear the set it had created for Thaïs. Even the screens for the supertitles remained intact. The set consists of a faux-stone frame and faux-stone walls at the rear and sides. A black curtain covered the stage tonight, and Lupu's piano stood on the stage's curve. For Thaïs, there is a raised black platform, rather high, and the backdrop is a screen lit to evoke the sky. It is a very beautiful and most welcome design. Indeed, I have to say that, even during the ballets, I did not miss the presence of sets, costumes and choreography. For one, the evocative score, with its lush orientalism, is so colorful and redolent of perfumes . . .

The orchestra, chorus, and cast were all dressed in black, except for the female soloists, such as this one:

Close-up of Renée Fleming (Thaïs), taken on Monday, April 16, 2007, at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris. Please credit me and link to this post if you use this photo anywhere.

More observations to come following the remaining performances . . .

Renée Fleming and Gerald Finley in Thaïs at the Châtelet

2007-04-16T21:09:00.000-04:00

Nicolas Courjal (Palémon), Gerald Finley (Athanaël), Renée Fleming (Thaïs), Christoph Eschenbach (conductor), and Philippe Aïche (violin solo) during curtain calls following the first of three performances at the Châtelet in Paris this week. I took this photo. Please credit me and link to this post if you use it anywhere.

Fleming was a scorching hot Thaïs in a sparkling green mermaid gown by Dior. More to come after I attend the remaining two performances this week.

I have to say, though, that I was sorry to learn that Barry Banks, originally scheduled to sing Nicias, was replaced.

I'll also say that Fleming and Finley were in fantastic form. (Yeah, alliteration, how about that?) Fleming elicited the first applause (lasting a really, really long time--she nodded to Eschenbach three times before he himself stopped applauding and raised the baton to resume the opera) of the evening with a luscious "Dis-moi que je suis belle." The desperation was palpable, and her voice was simply dripping with eroticism. Overall, there was so much to savor: rich and velvety yet bright, ringing tone; outstanding French; pianissimi galore; high notes that made me jump out of my seat. And that crescendo on her last note ("Je vois Dieu!"), well that was . . . heavenly. The standing ovation that greeted her first curtain call, well, that about summed it up.

Close-up of Renée Fleming (Thaïs), taken on Monday, April 16, 2007, at the Théâtre du Châtelet in Paris. Please credit me and link to this post if you use this photo anywhere.

France Musique will broadcast the opera on June 9th at 7:30pm Paris time. This will be streamed on the web.

Karita Mattila sets Jordan Hall on fire

2007-04-15T07:36:00.000-04:00

UPDATE

Karita Mattila in her dressing room at Jordan Hall on Friday night. I took this photo. Please credit me and link to this post if you use it anywhere.

The brilliant Martin Katz strummed the opening chords of Samuel Barber's wonderful Hermit Songs . . . her voice entered the beautiful and intimate hall . . . well, that moment was like the first touch with a great lover. That flutter.

I'm back in Paris, and I cannot stop thinking about Karita Mattila's spellbinding recital in Boston on Friday night. I was extremely lucky to have an amazing seat--five rows back and directly across from Mattila. Jeremy Eichler offers an accurate review of the recital, but I need to underline Mattila's staggering artistry and outsize presence. Her huge, refulgent voice. Those delicate crescendos. Those dances!

But really, who am I kidding? I'm not up to the task. As I told my friend that night, Mattila is a great argument for why live performances need to be experienced, well, live. I can only sketch, badly, that which can actually be articulated. A performer like Mattila resonates on so many levels, some so profound that the body rings with the sensations for days, even weeks. It was probably a blessing that I saw Eugene Onegin the evening of the final performance of Jenufa, a matinee, because I may very well have obsessed to death about it. (I ended up obsessing about Onegin, which is a far tamer thing.) The lingering question: how on earth will I handle Mattila's Salome? At least Jenufa has a happy ending . . .

I need to mention that she looked stunning. She showed off her svelte body in two boldly form-fitting gowns, one in off white with black beads and embroidery, accented with white diamond jewelry, the other in black--with a slit on each side--decorated with copper beads and accented with jewels of a similar smokey color. I have never seen a sexier a woman on stage.

What's also amazing is her genuine humility. That just can't be faked. I noticed that she seemed genuinely surprised and touched when the audience applauded after the first group of Finnish songs, two songs by Toivo Kuula. She later said that she didn't think we would applaud so early, and that we have been so generous. Speaking in the pause between the Oskar Merikanto and Leevi Madetoja groups, she said that she thought that this would be the first point at which we would applaud (just after "Kun päivä paistaa", a glorious piece that ends triumphantly). She talked a bit and found herself rambling, and poked fun at herself ("I should just sing!"), eventually saying, "And now I need a glass of water!", but decided, "I will be brave." Backstage she mentioned to a young singer that she was so moved by the audience's warm response. I believe that this was the first performance of her brief US recital tour, which she will take to New York's Carnegie Hall on Wednesday.

UPDATE: READ MORE ON THE MATTILA RECITAL HERE

Also recently attended: Andrea Chenier (outstanding) and Die Aegyptische Helena (inscrutable, but worth it for the aria) at the Met; Flavio (a must-see) at City Opera.

Giulio Cesare in Egitto opens at the Met; Jessye Norman in Paris; Robert Wilson's staging of Bach's Le passion selon Saint Jean

2007-04-07T08:54:00.001-04:00

The big news last night was, of course, Ruth Ann Swenson, who so publicly expressed her discontent with Peter Gelb, and his beef with her, here. Sieglinde, once again, provides insightful commentary. It's all a bunch of drama, and, really, I find myself not caring one way or the other. It's showbusiness. Last night, though, it was clear that the audience was with her all the way. Huge cheers greeted the end of her arias, and the entire house rose to its feet when she emerged for her curtain call. Confetti (well, these people didn't bother to shred the pages, they just dropped them whole) rained down and bravas were shouted. She was moved to tears. She pointed at the whole audience and at the confetti-throwers.

She sang very well last night, though her top often sounded pinched. She was a lively, engaging presence on stage, and she evoked pathos during the laments.

Alice Coote, as was the case in Paris, was a revelation as Sesto. Her ornaments in this production are very different. They are subdued and less organic.

I didn't know that Michael Maniaci had been cast as Nireno for his Met debut! What a gorgeous voice and magnetic stage presence!

Patricia Bardon (Cordelia) and Lawrence Zazzo (Tolomeo) also made their Met debuts.

David Daniels was in top form last night. I heard him in this role in Miami seven years ago. His timbre has darkened, but it remains beautiful. His powerful voice and solid technique make an excellent case for the countertenor voice in general, and for a countertenor in this role specifically. Also, he's quite a flamboyant Caesar, and I enjoy watching him flip his cape. I preferred Andreas Scholl's Bertarido, but Daniels is a far superior Cesare.

On March 30, I attended Jessye Norman's stunning all-French program at Salle Pleyel in Paris. This took place couple night after the Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazon concert, and I remember thinking, "Man, Jessye is the real thing." It doesn't matter that she doesn't wear Dior or Westwood, or that her gold flat shoes (with a royal blue dress?) suspiciously resemble some of the merchandise at Payless. Or that she wipes the sweat from her nose. Every note was in place, every word perfect. And I have never witnessed a brighter, more inviting smile. The audience went absolutely crazy for her. I'll never forget her "I Love Paris" (last encore) which she began softly, sitting on a piano stool. Midsong she rose and moved stage left while increasing the weight and volume, and she ended on a loud, gleaming, climactic high note, held for an eternity, that threated to blow off the roof. A hundred or two ecstatic audience members remained in the hall long after she had taken her final curtain call. They cheered, "Jessye! Jessye!", hoping she would return. After about ten minutes, a staff member emerged to say that, um, she ain't coming back.

If you ever have a chance to hear Norman, don't miss it for anything.

I also attended two performances of Robert Wilson's staging of Bach's Saint John's Passion at the Châtelet. It looks pretty much like the Met Lohengrin, to be honest. The lighting is really cool. And it was priceless to see Andreas Scholl in in a purple toga and geisha-like wig, wearing black eyeliner and purple eyeshadow. As I noticed last fall at his Paris performances as Giulio Cesare and his Bach concert in London, his voice sounds considerably underpowered. I'm not sure what happened, because his Bertarido at the Met last spring was nothing short of stunning.

Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazon in Paris

2007-03-28T17:25:00.000-04:00

Rarely have I been as excited to blog about a performance as I am about tonight's concert at the Theatre des Champs-Elysees. Filmed for television, it starred two of opera's hottest stars, with support from a first-rate orchestra and conductor, all performing a no-nonsense program of French, Russian, and Italian opera, as well as Zarzuela.

Unfortunately, as I left the theater about three-quarters of an hour ago, my most salient memories of the concert were two moments that Anna Netrebko would, I'm sure, rather forget. In her opening number and in the third and final encore, she messed up. In Juliette's waltz, she cracked (at length) on the climactic high C, but recovered beautifully. Her error in the Brindisi from La Traviata was worse: during the duo and chorus parts after Alfredo's solo verse, she forgot the words and covered her face with both hands, letting out an embarrassed yelp. Villazon was most solicitous, taking a large bouquet from her hands and placing it on the podium, along with some book (wrapped in blue plastic) that he'd been holding. The audience started singing the melody on la in solidarity, and Netrebko clearly knew she would be OK. She returned with Tra voi and stayed to the end, finishing on the glorious top note. UPDATE: OK, so, when I blogged on this I forgot to mention that after putting their stuff down, Villazon proceeded most charmingly to dance with Netrebko!!! How could I fail to mention that!!?? It was adorable.

As I look over my program and reflect on my memories, these two incidents are so minor compared to the many moments of sheer magic. Aren't those moments exactly what we're here for? And, I have to say, I find Netrebko utterly charming. Yes, she is also astonishingly, stunningly, staggeringly beautiful. And Escada and Chopard should win some sort of prize for those shimmering gowns and dazzling jewels.

Most of the program hovered somewhere between the mishaps and the magic. I've already covered the mishaps. On to the rest.

Overall, Netrebko has a radiant sound. It's a large, beautiful voice with a fast vibrato and an even tone. I've seen her in three stage roles (Gilda, Adina, Elivra), but this was my first time seeing her in concert. She's a very good actress and commands a stage with ease. But the concert format seems to make her nervous, and it shows. Maybe she has commented on this somewhere. She was at her best when she got in character. Perhaps her most disappointing number was Rachmaninov's sublime Zdes' khorosko. It's a peaceful, softly rapturous song. As Netrebko sang, she seemed to be considerably uneasy. Looking tense, she exerted tremendous effort, and singing this piece seemed to be painful and difficult for her. The soft high note (Da ty/"and you") came after much anxious thought. Compare Renee Fleming performance of this song (a live recording might be on the Tony Palmer DVD). Fleming seems to sing the entire thing in one breath. Netrebko, ever the performer, mesmerized the audience during the orchestral postlude, softly extending her arms. She was a sight to behold, as the sea of strings gently lapped behind her.

The first half contained two duets. As Manon in the Act III, Scene 7 duet (St. Sulpice), Netrebko was seductress extraordinaire, and her embrace with Villazon at the scene's conclusion set the room ablaze. She cherished the vocal line with luxurious portamentos. But, yet again, I have to wheel Fleming back in. Fleming sang the part to perfection at the Met on April 8, 2006, in her final complete performance of the role. Musically and dramatically, Netrebko didn't come anywhere close to the subtlely and depth of Fleming's interpretation. As I have said, one could write a dissertation on Fleming's use of dynamics alone in that performance last season. Yes, they are two different singers. But given that they're singing the same repertoire at the same time, it makes sense to compare them.

The duet from Tchaikovsky's Iolantha, however, was rather impressive. I love hearing music that's new to me, and there was much of it on this program. Featuring a prominent use of two harps, the scene contains lush Romantic writing, culminating in triumphant ending.

What a thrill to hear Violetta's Act I scene! And to hear two high E-flats! And to hear Villazon sing Alfredo's part from offstage! This was neat. But, again. The phrases that start on high D-flat, Netrebko starts an octave lower and does a leap up to them. To my ears, that doesn't work as an ornament. After hearing Angela Gheorghiu sing this to perfection at the Met last weekend, in a complete, total performance, I had a hard time with Netrebko's interpretation. Yes, she sang the notes, and she conveyed Violetta's struggle. But she had to think way too much about it. Ditto the aria from La Wally.

The two duets in the second part went over very well. Again, Netrebko and Villazon sang in character. The final duet from Luisa Fernanda closed with a remarkable moment: as Javier reached his hand out to touch Luisa Fernanda, whose back was to him, she raised her right hand and shook it in pained disapproval. It's the only thing I remember from the duet, and I'll never forget it.

O soava fanciulla, which closed the concert, was probably the best thing on the program. They walked off stage for the final Amors. That was magic. My mouth is watering for Netrebko's Mimi.

You may have noticed that I haven't said much about Villazon. Well, [to be continued...]

Angela Gheorghiu's Violetta on March 24, 2007

2007-03-25T16:41:00.000-04:00

I hope to write more later, but I need to point out Sieglinde's post on Angela Gheorghiu's Violetta last night at the Met. In a word, the post is a spot-on accurate account of the evening. My schedule is crazy at the moment, so I'm really glad I made a point to squeeze this one in. Instant standing ovation and all, it will surely become part of Met mythology.

I have some catching up to do around here. Sometime I'll share thoughts on: opening night of Ariodante at the Champs-Elysees in Paris; New York City Opera's La donna del lago; and two performances of the Boston Symphony's star-studded Fidelio.

Karita Mattila cancels; Christine Brewer steps in

2007-03-20T09:01:00.000-04:00

I got an email from the BSO a little while ago.

Oops . . . I Did(n't Do) It Again

2007-03-17T12:42:00.000-04:00

For the second time, I have missed a Matthias Goerne recital for which I had a ticket. The first time was in the summer of 2005, when I couldn't have been bothered to drive three hours through the wilderness to head to Tanglewood. (I also missed Deborah Voigt that summer, for the same reason, and also with a ticket in my possession.) This time, it's for a far less justifiable reason.

See, I use iCal as my diary. It works just fine, but there's a little problem when I fly back and forth across five time zones. Dates move around. I loaded Salle Pleyel's web site to see what was on the Goerne's program for tonight, only to discover that, yes, the recital was last night. As in, last %$#@!&* night!

So, I have never heard Goerne live, and at this rate, I never will.

I also missed the Barenboim/Pape (yes, Rene Pape) Boris Godunow at the Berlin Staatsoper on Thursday. I let my first-row seat go to waste because work tied me down here in Paris.

Other events I missed this season, despite having a ticket: the Opera Bastille's L'amour des trois oranges (missed for Kiri Te Kanawa in Reading the night before; couldn't have made it back in time); Ben Heppner (chose to hear Cecilia Bartoli instead); and Ian Bostridge (decided to remain in States in January).

My first brush with the sort of disappointment I'm experiencing right now occured in June 2005, when I missed Karita Mattila's Paris recital. I was jetlagged and my nap lasted three hours too long. It took my quite a while to recover from that loss. Closing night of Jenufa at the Met last month was extremely cathartic, and I think that's when I finally let it go.

I don't feel such a great loss right now. Yes, it would have been lovely to hear Goerne, but it could have been worse. And I've got the whole evening to work, so I'll make the most of it. As Beckett's Winnie would say, "Great mercies."

James Kotecki

2007-03-16T19:22:00.000-04:00

This young political analyst and commentator is doing some amazing things. He observed that the 2008 presidential race will be the first in which online videos--specifically, YouTube--will have a role to play. Very early in the game, he started offering commentary to the candidates via responses to their videos on YouTube. After a couple months of puzzlement and frustration, during which Kotecki remarked that he had received not a single video response from a candidate, on March 16th Dennis Kucinich uploaded a direct reply to Kotecki's analysis of Kucinich's Youtube channel. In Kotecki's words, "Today, Congressman Dennis Kucinich made history as the first American Presidential candidate to engage in a real video dialog using YouTube."

Kotecki's substantive, accurate and concise commentary, combined with his corny but infectious sense of humor, makes him a refreshing and most welcome presence in the messy sea of online videos. It will be fun to watch him as the race continues.

Check him out: http://www.jameskotecki.com/

La Juive at the Opera Bastille; Le Jardin des Voix; Trinidad; Pierre-Laurent Aimard and Susan Graham at the Garnier

2007-03-13T12:29:00.000-04:00

Well, you just can't have everything. I love blogging, but I haven't been at it lately because I'm very much under the gun, a hostage to my work for the next few weeks. I wanted to check in to let you know that, and to quickly run through what's been going on lately.

I had no idea what I would think of Halévy's La Juive, presented at the Opera Bastille as a new production this season. The most popular opera in 19th-century France, it's rarely heard today. Well, thanks to effective stage direction and a striking set consisting of elaborate metal and lights, and, more importantly, to a stunning cast, I was absolutely floored. I will remember Neil Shicoff's wrenching performance of Éléazar's famous Act IV aria as one of the great moments that I have been lucky to witness. Even Anna Caterina Antonacci--a remarkable actress--couldn't quite match Shicoff's formidable presence. But Robert Lloyd, with his biting voice and intimidating appearance, certainly did. Brogni's final plea for his daughter's whereabouts elicited my ambivalent pity. I'll never forget the vengeful tone of Schicoff's ringing, stinging, burning "La voilà!" ("There she is!"), as red light flooded the stage (representing the boiling oil that kills her), framing Antonacci's graceful physique in the background while Lloyd collapsed in horror and grief. I also have to mention two other singers: John Osborn, who handled Léopold's cruel tessitura with ease and cut an attractive figure on stage; and the elegant Annick Massis, who was born to sing the high-flying lines of Eudoxie with princesslike grace.

This past weekend, I was lucky to catch three events. William Christie and Les Arts Florissants, currently on tour with the 2007 incarnation of Le Jardin des Voix, played two nights at Cite de la Musique. These young singers sang beautifully, and I strongly encourage you to see them if they come to your town.

Parc de la Villette featured the music of Trinidad, the country of my birth, as its theme for this past Sunday's program in the series Scenes d'Hiver. The 5.5-hour program was remarkably well organized, with an ingenious combination of performance, demonstration and lecture in the sexy venue Cabaret Sauvage. Unfortunately, I missed Calypso Rose's performance, as I had to leave to make it to a very different venue . . .

. . . the Palais Garnier, in time for Pierre-Laurent Aimard's recital featuring Susan Graham. Last month, I spotted Graham in the lobby of the Met at three performances in a row. At the last, my friend Sarah and I (as she recounts on her blog) spoke to her, and Graham mentioned that much of her material on the Aimard program will be new to her. She sang an extraordinary, little-known Ravel song cycle ("Nobody knows it," she said to me following the concert, when I mentioned that I'd never heard it) called Trois chansons madécasses. At its center is the chilling "Aoua!", a tale of the horror of colonialism, bearing the refrain, "Méfiez-vous des blancs"/"Beware of the white man" (I translate). Graham delivered a thrilling, no-holds-barred performance, altering her voice to sustain an admonitory tone.

Finally, I wanted to mention stage director Irina Brook, who found my blog and took the time to comment on my Giulio Cesare post. As I mention in my post, the opening night audience booed her off the stage. In her comment she reacts to this, and I especially appreciate what she says about putting her "heart and soul" into her work. I always try to keep this in mind in my commentary.

Renee Fleming at the Kaplan Penthouse; Norma at Tanglewood in '08

2007-02-23T17:42:00.000-05:00

The big news: Renee will debut Norma in a concert version with James Levine at Tanglewood in 2008. She mentioned that Levine said, "You have to do this role because you have to do it." While dramatic sopranos have been singing Norma recently, this will be a lyric Norma. Renee added, "It's a huge risk. But, what? I should never take a risk?"

This was an especially informative interview, and any time spent with the charming soprano is time well spent.

More later.

What I've been doing in the last week

2007-02-20T06:40:00.000-05:00

Well, I can't say I've been doing nothing. What I won't be doing tonight is attending Angela Gheorghiu's interview at the Kaplan Penthouse, becaused she canceled. When I called around noon to inquire about a duplicate (yes, with all this traveling, I do misplace a ticket here and there), I was told that they'd just gotten word that Gheorghiu has taken ill and canceled her appearance tonight. Ah, the drama.

Last Tuesday, I attended the Bastille's Les Contes d'Hoffmann with Rolando Villazon and Patricia Petibon. I arrived in New York on Friday for three Met revivals: the Met's last Jenufa this season (Karita Mattila and Anja Silja in a shattering performance); two performances of Eugene Onegin (Renee Fleming, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Ramon Vargas); and the season premiere of Simon Boccanegra (Thomas Hampson, Angela Gheorghiu, Marcello Giordani, Ferrucio Furlanetto). I will also attend the Guild's interview with Renee Fleming on Thursday.

Also of note: I spotted Susan Graham at Jenufa and Boccanegra. The back of her head appears in several of my photos of the Boccanegra ovations. It's always exciting to see opera stars in the audience; they're fans too!

More to come.

This is what I get to read for work

2007-02-12T13:09:00.000-05:00

Tagged, I transcribe:

À mon âge, aucun intérêt ne me distrayait le cœur, aucune ambition ne traversait le cours de ce sentiment déchaîné comme un torrent et qui faisait onde de tout ce qu’il emportait. Oui, plus tard, nous aimons la femme dans une femme ; tandis que de la première femme aimée, nous aimons tout : ses enfants sont les nôtres, sa maison est la nôtre, ses intérêts sont nos intérêts, son malheur est notre plus grand malheur ; nous aimons sa robe et ses meubles ; nous sommes plus fâchés de voir ses blés verses que de savoir notre argent perdu ; nous sommes prêts à gronder le visiteur qui dérange nos curiosités sur la cheminée. Ce saint amour nous fait vivre dans un autre, tandis que plus tard, hélas ! nous attirons une autre vie en nous-mêmes, en demandant à la femme d’enrichir de ses jeunes sentiments nos facultés appauvries.

Balzac, Le Lys dans la vallée (1836)

My life isn't so bad.

I tag Sarah, litwit and Matthias. (Instructions, via tsr: "find the nearest book, turn to page 123, post the fifth, sixth and seventh sentences"; "tag three folks")

Parsifal at the Staatsoper unter den Linden

2007-02-08T18:44:00.000-05:00

Everyone seems to be in Berlin at the moment. I didn't learn of the Berlinale until a few days ago when I tried booking a hotel room. (Apparently, festival's opening night is the busiest night of the year for Berlin hotels.) I almost canceled this trip, but I didn't want to pass up the chance to hear Parsifal with Rene Pape under Daniel Barenboim. When I bought the ticket a few months ago, Waltraud Meier was scheduled to sing Kundry. I heard both Pape and Meier in this opera at the Met last May, with Ben Heppner and Thomas Hampson, who were making role debuts. Despite such stellar casting, excellent playing from the orchestra, and a beautiful production, the opera failed to move me. I even fell asleep during Act II (one of Meier's top notes awoke me, and I was rather embarrassed to discover that I had nodded off). But I had loved every Wagner opera I'd heard, and I knew I had to give this, considered the ne plus ultra of Wagner's art, another chance. I mean, I started Wagner with nothing less than the full Ring at the Met during a week in New York in the spring of '04. And it's hard to top the Met's Lohengrin last season. (I remember Renee Fleming mentioned she saw it and it made her "a convert!")

While reading the libretto this afternoon at a restaurant just down the street from the Staatsoper, I found myself profoundly moved, and I knew things would be different this time around. Sitting in the house (a beautiful one it is), it took only the opening chords of the prelude to move me to tears. Weird, huh? For the next few hours, nothing came close to the purity and promise of that moment, but that's not the point. Moments like that don't happen at every performance.

Rene Pape. First, that gorgeous voice thrills you with its size, tone and sheer power. It's a beautiful, resonant sound. And it emerges from a physique that's no less commanding. Pape makes every word, note and gesture count, bathing every moment with subtely.

Michelle DeYoung wasn't in top form vocally, but she sounded splendid nonetheless. Few artists I have seen can command a stage like Waltraud Meier, whose Kundry was so compelling that she owned my gaze whenever on stage, even all of Act III. But DeYoung has a lot to offer in this part. I'd like to see her in a less irritating production.

What's so moving about Parsifal? In a word, for me it's the longing for peace. Healing. Wounds, sins, whatever. And when it happens, well, that's just magic.

Daniela Barcellona and Juan Diego Florez at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées

2007-02-05T17:54:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure why Barcellona received top billing, as she's not a megastar, but she did. Both singers were somewhat uneven tonight, but the concert was pure fun. The singers showed much charm during ovations, and I wish they could have brought some more personality to their performances.

Florez seemed nervous at times. I wonder how much of this music might be new to him. His "Il mio tesoro" was especially unsuccessful; he stumbled in one of the early runs, and he carried the long lines only with much effort. In general, Florez was often detached and thinking a great deal about what he was singing. Only in the Pasquale aria did he really command the stage.

Barcellona possesses a powerful dark voice. Sometimes it veers towards hootiness. I wouldn't say it's a beautiful voice. It's big. It seems unusual for bel canto. Still, her coloratura sparkles and her performance of "O mio Fernando" pretty much brought the house down.

Rolando Villazon, in town for Les Contes d'Hoffman at the Paris Opera (which I will see next week), sat in the first row of center corbeille. During intermission he signed quite a few autographs and cameras throughout the auditorium flashed incessantly.

I have photos and videos to share. Stay tuned.

My week in Karita Mattila and Anja Silja; Deborah Voigt sings Beethoven; Esa-Pekka Salonen's piano concerto

2007-02-02T04:28:00.000-05:00

Anja Silja and Karita Mattila at the Kaplan Penthouse on Thursday evening

On Monday night I attended opening night of the Met's revival of Jenufa starring Karita Mattila and Anja Silja. Met a new friend waiting at the stage door. Waited two full hours, as the cast members were at a party! It was worth it. Silja exited earlier than Mattila. Both women were warm and in great spirits after a successful performance, and they signed my program.

On Thursday evening I attended an interview with Mattila and Silja at the Kaplan Penthouse. I took copious notes. The big news is that Kaija Saariaho is currently writing an opera for Mattila, who was worried that she might get in trouble for making the announcement. She asked, "Are there any journalists in here?"

There was some tension between the two, who clearly admire each other but are so different. I'll write more on this later (hopefully).

Sarah had received two tickets to the New York Philharmonic's Thursday night concert. After the interview we walked across the Lincoln Center campus and entered Avery Fisher Hall in time to hear the world premiere of Esa-Pekka Salonen's piano concerto, written for an dedicated to Yefim Bronfman. I thoroughly enjoyed this extraordinarily dynamic and exciting piece.

On Wednesday evening, in Boston, I attended the Boston Symphony's open rehearsal of its latest Beethoven/Schoenberg program. Two Beethoven pieces were rehearsed that night: Ah! perfido and the eighth symphony. James Levine, who said he was trying something new in using a microphone that would allow us to hear him, started with the vocal piece. Deborah Voigt was, as he said, "in great form." What a thrilling sound. I was glad to attend the rehearsal, because travel plans prevent me from attending one of the concerts.

More later, if I get a chance.

Recent search words

2007-01-24T02:25:00.000-05:00

Yeah, people entered the following search words and somehow landed on my blog.

renee fleming danced all night

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renee fleming copies kiri to a t

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nackt or nude or naked "christine schäfer"

harvard graduate student living in paris opera blog

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heidi grant murphy, tiny voice

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judy drucker gossip

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ligers for sale

My week in René Pape; Susan Graham's French program

2007-01-21T12:28:00.000-05:00

I just returned from Jordan Hall in Boston, where Susan Graham and Malcolm Martineau presented an intelligent program of exquisite French songs. Last week I was lucky to be in New York for the Toscanini tribute at Avery Fisher Hall, and in Miami for the Cleveland Orchestra's inaugural concert at Miami's Carnival Center, where the orchestra has launched a new subscription series.

Details to come. A bit of news: Susan Graham mentioned backstage that she will open the Boston Symphony's 2007-08 season this fall with Ravel's "Shéhérazade."

René replaces Renée

2007-01-14T10:12:00.000-05:00

There are only two René(e)s I travel to see. Disappointment canceled.

Update:

The concert is completely sold out.

Update:

The AP report.

key words: renee fleming, rene pape, toscanini, new york philharmonic

Wow this is ugly . . .

2007-01-14T05:57:00.000-05:00

. . . and the best thing on TV this year so far.

In other news, Renee Fleming has withdrawn from the New York Philharmonic's Toscanini concert on Tuesday due to illness. We wish her a speedy recovery!

The Magic Flute Live from the Met in HD

2006-12-30T18:17:00.000-05:00

I caught the Met's simulcast at this Lincoln Center, in Miami Beach.

This afternoon I headed to the Regal South Beach cinema on Lincoln Road, Miami Beach. The ticket taker warned me to be sure to hold on to my ticket stub, because, she said, this showing had sold out three weeks ago and it was likely that people would "try to sneak in."

I took my seat a few minutes before 1pm. On the screen were views of the Met auditorium. At first, rock music was blasting. But after a little while we got to hear Met sounds. The orchestra was doing its thing. Then the auditoirum opened up. On screen and in the cinema, I watched people taking their seats, and I took in the mise-en-abime.

There was a countdown every minute on the minute for the last five minutes before curtain. With each minute, the screen displayed a different production photo.

At the opening we were shown a prerecorded (I assume) view of the Met's façade and a greeting from Peter Gelb, who said that opera was meant for the big screen. I think opera was meant for the opera house, but whatever. More on this later.

I was surprised that Katie Couric introduced the opera from backstage. I was glad to see such a major media personality cover the event. Again, I can't tell if her appearance was live or prerecorded.

The opening credits featured excellent footage of the singers getting into costumes and makeup. What a neat idea! The credits ran during the overture, and ended with James Levine.

The cast was uniformly excellent, often outstanding, and there are few better things than the combination of Mozart and Levine. Nathan Gunn is a remarkable actor, his Papageno a highly engaging and memorable characterization. Rene Pape's commanding bass and towering presence dominated every scene in which he appeared (that is this outstanding singer's trademark). It was amusing, though, how awkwardly he delivered his spoken dialogue! I bathed in Matthew Polenzani's gorgeous tone.

The camera directing was extremely natural, and the angles often shifted to just where you'd want them to be.

OK, on to business. I don't know if this big screen thing is such a big deal after all. I mean, at least in the Miami Beach cinema, the sound was awesome, but the HD wasn't so hot. It seemed kind of grainy. That's what happens with digital formats, I suppose. Anyway, I would advise people to sit in the rear of the cinema.

Also, cinema etiquette is different from opera etiquette. Yes, you can eat nachos at the movies. But that means you can also hear your neighbor crunching. And so on.

Another possible concern: watching a 100-minute version of "The Magic Flute" in English and without an intermission is one thing. How will longer, more challenging (for the audience) operas go down? Hm. Probably just fine. We'll see.

With about 20 minutes of the simulcast left, the cinema management switched on a couple of the house lights. It didn't severely alter the image quality , but it was annoying. I suspect that they did this to monitor "sneaking." As we exited the room, we passed three or four staff members who guarded the passageway.

I would probably have preferred to watch this at home on my Sony HDTV with surround sound. Driving a half hour or forty-five minutes and paying twelve dollars in parking (and eighteen dollars per move ticket) to sit in a crowded movie theater with people wasn't so hot. On the other hand, it is pretty neat to see opera on that big screen and to hear it in that glorious sound. So, I will attend these presentations whenever it's possible, and I certainly recommend them to everyone. In fact, I will certainly use these presentations to save me from trips to the Met.

Next weekend will be interesting, as I'll be in the Met auditorium for the I Puritaini matinee, which will be the second performance to be transmitted live from the Met. It will be cool to see how this works from the other side. I'll be watching out for the cameras and lighting. That evening, I will attend Die Zauberfloete, as in the normal version of the opera presented today. Levine, Polenzani, Pape and Polenzani will perform. (On Friday, I will also attend The First Emperor, which will be simulcast the following weekend.)

I didn't join some of the audience members in their ovations for the singers today. It seemed silly, because, well, we could see them but they couldn't see us. It might as well have not been live. Weird.

Why I Attend 862,000 Performances a Season: Reason #74

2006-12-30T09:12:00.000-05:00

Yes, singers are human and it's different every time.

By the way, I finally got around to uploading those Don Carlo photos. Check it out.

Etiquette

2006-12-21T18:27:00.000-05:00

The New York Times is running an article today on cheap seats (standing room and rush tickets) at the Met. Nothing in there concerns me, because I don't live in New York and I buy my tickets long in advance. But this passage made my blood boil, reminding me of what happened on Monday night:

The rush tickets do not buy the best seats in the orchestra. They tend to be on the extreme left and right of the hall, or in the back, but as I found at a weekday performance of “Idomeneo,” quick moves can greatly improve one’s station. I was in seat P33, far stage right, and just beginning to sink into my chair when the lights started to go down.

All at once people around me darted out of their seats like horses at Saratoga, heading for unoccupied spaces closer to the center aisle. Caught off guard, I was only able to move two seats in. But with each intermission I moved a few more, until I was most definitely in one of the best seats in the house, and I enjoyed the opera tremendously.

Moving closer to the center aisle is fine. But moving from your seat in the boonies to the seat right next to or right in front of mine is not OK, especially if you a) have a remarkably large head, b) talk during the opera, c) read the program with the light from your cell phone, or d) wave your arms to the music. On Monday night I was subjected to the atrocious etiquette of seat-hijackers.

If the Met allows this shuffling, all I can really say is that if people have the guts to do it, more power to them. The two seats to my right were empty, and I should have moved down, or into one of the empty seats in front of me. But really, things were getting out of hand. Thankfully, when reflecting on performances I have attended, I generally don't remember my neighbors' bad behavior.

The bottom line: people attend live performances, so if you attend live performances, you just have to deal with people. And people are people.

Don Carlo at the Met

2006-12-18T19:46:00.000-05:00

Tonight I attended the fifth (no, not my fifth) performance of the Met's current revival of Don Carlo. James Levine conducted. This was my first time seeing him conduct since his injury. Olga Borodina, Johan Botha, Dmitri Hvorostovky, Rene Pape, Patricia Racette, and Samuel Ramey sang. They sang extremely well. The Metropolitan Opera orchestra played and the Metropolitan Opera chorus sang. Extremely well. I sat in orchestra prime, fourth row center. I saw extremely well. Following the performance, I met all six principals at the stage door. All six singers were smiling and in a great mood. They all autographed my program, and I photographed them. The photos came out extremely well.

Really, is there anything more to say?

Happy to be back in the States for a bit.

Update: Check out the photos!

Magdalena Kožená in Paris

2006-12-15T18:01:00.000-05:00

[in progress]

Magdalena Kožená sang a very impressive Mozart program tonight at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées. She sailed through the difficult program with her elegant yet highly expressive--often thrillling--singing. Her large voice is warm, from a baritonal chest register to a gleaming top.

[in progress]

Second Rosenkavalier in Paris

2006-12-14T18:47:00.000-05:00

[in progress]

Well, in a word, tonight's Rosenkavalier was so-so. I'm not sure what wasn't right. Maybe Anne Schwanewilms, recovering from illness that kept her away from two performances, was not in top form. There were some good moments, but she was frequently covered. She deserves credit, however, for her thoughtful characterization. This is an angry and bitter Marschallin. My highest compliment: Schwanewilms makes us think, "Ah, so that's what the text is saying!" She emphasized her character's bitterness in Act I when she tells Octavian that he'll fall in love with a younger, prettier girl. When the Marschallin sees the look on Octavian's face upon Sophie's entrance in Act III, Schwanewilms portrayed the very definition of extreme disappointment.

Elina Garanca's voice lacked its trademark shimmering warmth for much of the evening, and, though few mezzos today could make such a fetching young lad, she was too subtle next to Schwanewilms and Heidi Grant Murphy, both highly expressive actresses. Garanca certainly has a flair for comedy; her best moments were as "Mariandel."

Grant Murphy's voice is really tiny but she was again a lovely Sophie.

The tenor playing the Italian singer stumbled horribly on a high note (his voice gave out) and sang the troublesome phrase an octave lower in the reprise. He of course didn't come out for the Act I curtain calls. I felt his pain. This must have been tough. I mean, you're cast in a cameo role, and you come out wearing a tuxedo and looking flashy, surrounded by photographers, and you sing these long, very difficult lines, and you're supposed to be really impressive, because the audience is supposed to get a sense of the wistful state of the Marschallin, who doesn't look up as he sings. Anyway. He was fine on Sunday, and I hope he gets it together for the remaining performances. (I have to say, I also heard this young singer as Narraboth in Salome at the beginning of this season. I'm worried about him. He doesn't look comfortable on stage and his voice sounds strained. It seemed that he was poised for an international career, but I don't see it happening.) This is too much text for such a small incident, but it was worth mentioning.

I thoroughly enjoyed Franz Hawlata's Ochs. His was a vivid and involved portrayal, and his leathery voice has a certain charm.

[in progress]

Elina Garanca to sing Octavian in Paris!

2006-12-13T18:19:00.002-05:00

I have checked the Paris Opera's web site to see what might be going on at Thursday evening's performance of Der Rosenkavalier, as I have a ticket. Elina Garanca will sing Thursday's performance (as well as on the 21st)! I am thrilled.

Vesselina Kasarova has been removed from the cast list.

Candide at the Châtelet in Paris

2006-12-13T18:11:00.000-05:00

[in progress]

Well. I'm not really sure what to think of Robert Carsen's new staging of Bernstein's Candide. His take on it: it's an American satire that calls attention to the dark side of the American dream. (Westphalia becomes "West Failure." Yawn.) Some bits are sort of intelligent, but it gets old really quickly. I'm undecided, but I'll say this: the three-and-a-half hours or so seemed to drag, while listening over the internet to Don Carlo live from the Met the other day kept me riveted for five hours.

[in progress]

Felicity Lott in Paris

2006-12-12T17:43:00.000-05:00

[in progress]

Felicity Lott sang a lovely recital tonight at the Châtelet.

[in progress]

On this whole Roberto Alagna thing

2006-12-12T17:26:00.000-05:00

If you're not refreshing Opera Chic's blog every other minute while at your computer this week, you're missing out on the juiciest operatic scandal in quite some time. Even the firing of Deborah Voigt wasn't nearly as scandalous, partly because she kept silent for so long, and partly because it might have been a good thing for her.

It could have been a giant scandal when the Mozarteum replaced Renee Fleming with Cecilia Bartoli for an enormous birthday celebration in January. But Fleming's publicist, Mary Lou Falcone, said, "She's, of course, very disappointed, but she also is very respectful and is graciously accepting this decision."

That's class.

And, of course, Fleming was herself booed in the Milan house, during a performance of Lucrezia Borgia in 1998. She has spoken and written about the incident, which occurred during an extremely difficult year for her. She returned to La Scala in October as the soloist in a Strauss program given by the Orchestra of the Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia (I caught the program the following night at Parco della Musica in Rome), and in November for a recital.

By the way, if you didn't read my post about what happened after Angela Gheorghiu's Paris recital last month, you need to. I include a couple video clips; in one, Alagna appears on stage to present his wife with a bouquet.

Preparation

2006-12-11T21:30:00.000-05:00

I attend a lot of performances. Many of the works I hear are new to me, but I don't always prepare for programs or operas. If I get a peek at a recital program, I might download songs on iTunes if I don't have them in my rather small recording collection. If the venue (such as the Barbican and Carnegie Hall) provides a pdf file of the program for download ahead of the concert, I'll try to read it, focusing on the texts and translations.

Prior to Renee Fleming's February 2005 Boston recital, I spent an afternoon in the listening room of Harvard's music library. I listened to her entire program, hearing extraordinary recordings by singers such as Felicity Lott, Kathleen Battle and Michael Chance in Purcell and Handel and Jessye Norman in Berg. There was one song I had difficulty in finding: Schumann's "Stille Traenen". After much searching, I found one recording of the song, on a souvenir (non-commercial) CD of a star-studded gala concert given to benefit the Marilyn Horne Foundation. Who was the singer? Renee Fleming. After listening to recordings of half a dozen singers in pieces that Fleming was to perform that night in Boston, it put a smile on my face that the last and most difficult-to-find song should have been recorded by Fleming herself.

Sometimes I like to hear a work for the first time in a live performance. This is one reason I sometimes attend more than one performance of a program or run. But if this is not possible, I sometimes try to listen to a recording or watch a DVD. Reading a libretto is also helpful, particularly if the opera is in a language I speak.

As I write this, I'm listening to the Met's live broadcast of Don Carlo, linked on the Met's home page. In one week I will attend this opera at the Met. I found librettos online (in Italian and English), and, as ever, operainfo.org has been immensely helpful. Given that I will see only one performance of this run--with an amazing cast that is unlikely to be assembled again--I want to be prepared.

It's possible to enjoy opera without doing your homework. But, while I lose myself in the intense emotions as much as the next person, I see opera as a means of discovering so much more. Program notes, supertitles (or Met Titles), librettos, recordings, DVDs, HD cinema broadcasts: we need all of these to enrich the experience of live performances, and, in the case of recordings and broadcasts, to leave archives and souvenirs.

Back to Carlo: Alex Ross has written a nice little piece on Rene Pape. I am lucky to have tickets to hear this singer several times this season (Verdi, Mozart, Beethoven, Wagner) in three different cities. Stay tuned for reports.

Idomeneo in Paris

2006-12-11T20:09:00.000-05:00

[in progress]

The new Paris opera production of Idomeneo currently playing at the Palais Garnier features a remarkable young cast: Ramon Vargas, Joyce DiDonato, Camilla Tilling, and Mireille Delunsch. Luc Bondy spoke at an event a couple weeks ago along with the Gerard Mortier, who directs the Paris Opera, and Thomas Hengelbrook, conductor of this run.

[in progress]

Der Rosenkavalier in Paris

2006-12-10T14:02:00.000-05:00

Too bad my camera batteries died. I could take no pictures of glorious Angela Denoke, a regal and very human Marschallin. Isn't the Marschallin the most human of characters, though?

In the title role, Daniela Sindram sang and acted with intelligence. Her subtlety and sensitivity impressed me. I won't soon forget the adorable way Octavian covered his head with a pillow in Act I, as the Marschallin taunts him, or the priceless look of embarrassment on his face and in his gestures in Act II as Sophie mentions "Quinquin" as one of Octavian's names.

Heidi Grant Murphy was a lovely, if somewhat underpowered, Sophie.

I arrived at the Bastille a good fifteen minutes prior to curtain (that's super early for me), and I picked up my program (10 euro). What a striking cover! Alas, with fresh batteries, I guess I do have something to show you:

A mirror. The set consisted of large paneled mirrors that folded, sometimes reflecting the audience, sometimes reflecting set images. Provocative, given that the opera contains one of the most eloquent meditations on aging. What better calls attention to our own aging than a mirror? The director clearly wants to underline the universality of the Marschallin's struggle.

At the same time, there is something quite specific about the Marschallin's position. (For the moment I'm putting aside the historical and political setting.) A mature woman, she has a lover still in his teens, and she knows that "today or tomorrow or the next day," he will love someone else. She knows this can't last.

There's something heartbreakingly beautiful about the grace with which she gives Octavian to this girl she doesn't know. In that luminous trio, she sings that she vowed to love him, even to love his love for another woman.

But it's not all about the boy, of course. In giving him up, she acknowledges that she is aging. She carries this painful reality with dignity and poise. Faninal invites her into his realm--as an older person--with his statement, "That's how they are, the young folk!" She confirms her separation from (the) youth and says goodbye forever with her famous response, "Ja, ja".

In the Wernicke production, the Marschallin enters a carriage stage right and Faninal enters another stage left. The carriages slowly glide into the wings as the young couple sings of its dreamlike happiness. I feel there's some irony in their bliss. The notion that it's like a dream suggests that one day they too will wake up.

This hope tinged with wistfulness makes me think of that wonderful line that ends The Light in the Piazza: "May it last forever."

Opera is like that

2006-12-09T19:18:00.000-05:00

If you go to enough performances, you come to accept that singers cancel. Something odd--or perhaps just coincidental--has been going on with the cast of the Paris Opera's current run of Der Rosenkavalier. Casting of the Marschallin and Octavian has been changing frequently. I don't know if either of the contracted principals, Anne Schwanewilms and Vesselina Kasarova, has actually sung yet. (Update: I learned that Schwanewilms sang on opening night.) The other day, I was super excited because the web site listed the superb Elina Garanca as Octavian in Sunday's matinee, for which I already have a ticket. But now Daniela Sindram is scheduled to sing the part.

I am delighted, however, that Angela Denoke will sing the matinee. Last I heard, she was said to be unimpressive in a tasteless production of Salome. But in March 2005, Alex Ross said this about her Marschallin:

The German soprano Angela Denoke is giving a first-rate performance as the Marschallin in Rosenkavalier at the Met. Any New Yorker who loves Strauss' sixteen-ton comedy, or who wants to experience the ultimate artistic meditation on the self-absorbed minitragedies of thirtysomethings, should try to see it. Denoke sings with phenomenal purity of tone, yet she is also an emotionally transparent, actorly performer; there's a welcome lack of expert caution in her delivery, and an expressive dark lining to even her brightest upper notes.

Meanwhile, I have not heard how things went down at Salle Pleyel last night, but part of me (who prefers Wagner to Rome at the turn of the 18th century) regrets my choice. Ah well, it was just one of those nights. I suppose.

Cecilia Bartoli in Paris

2006-12-09T16:45:00.000-05:00

Cecilia Bartoli at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, Paris, 8 December 2006

Her voice is at once among the prettiest and the ugliest. Just as she inspires awe with her soft, creamy sound in slow passages, so she annoys with her hideous coloratura. Whatever you make of Bartoli, there's no doubt that she knows how to thrill an audience. Some of this is intentional. Her programming ends both halves with a bang, and she doles out red meat for encores ("Bel piacere," "Ombra mai fu" and "Da tempeste"). Some of her appeal is probably unintentional, as we find ourselves chuckling at her infamous facial tics and spastic dance moves. (Is she actually conducting the ensemble or just really caught up in the music?) Still, there's something lovable about this charming woman and natural talent.

OK, I'm back

2006-12-06T17:02:00.000-05:00

After some heartfelt emails from friends asking that I not discontinue blogging, I've decided to give it another try. This time, instead of making promises such as "coming soon" or "more later," I'll probably just say, "I went to x event and it was really good," and leave it at that.

Responding once more to feedback, I will now allow comments. Feel free to share your thoughts. You may even do so anonymously.

After two thrilling Renee Fleming concerts in Lucerne (KKL) and London (Barbican), on Friday I begin another intense concert-going period. Still haven't decided whether to attend Ben Heppner's all-Wagner program at Salle Pleyel or Cecilia Bartoli's castrato program at the Champs-Elysees. I have a ticket to each.

Stay tuned.

Pause

2006-11-28T08:42:00.000-05:00

Blogging is fun, but I will take a break from it. It really does take a lot of time, and while I enjoy chronicling my experiences, I have other ways of doing that. I never intended to blog indefinitely. Soon, I will remove my archives, but I will keep this account alive for possible occasional posts.

Lately I've enjoyed some great moments, most notably Andreas Scholl in a Bach program at the Barbican in London and Kiri Te Kanawa in an eclectic solo recital in Reading. I was fortunate enough to meet both singers following the performances.

Up next: Renee Fleming in two very different programs in Lucerne and London.

Thank you for reading.

Toni Morrison reads from her unpublished next novel at the Louvre

2006-11-17T18:16:00.000-05:00

I don't think I've used this old line before, but I need to use it now: where to begin?

I will write later with details, but for the moment: Morrison read a moving and lyrical excerpt from her next novel, Mercy. It fit beautifully with the theme of her astonishingly stimulating program, titled The Foreigner's Home, this month at the Louvre. I have heard her read before (twice--well, almost three times--I happened to go to the bathroom and miss her reading from Jazz at Wynton Marsalis's Higher Ground Benefit in September 2005!), but I was not prepared for the beauty of this work or for the manifest excitement of knowing that this was a healthy glimpse at this great writer's next work, which she describes as "very much in progress."

Following the reading, there was a signing at the Louvre bookstore. Appropriately, I had Morrison sign the program's catalog. I thanked her ("very much") and she looked at me deliberately and replied, in her signature gravely voice, "You're welcome." Yes, on paper this sounds banal, and I have had her sign a book before (Love, in 2003), but this was a moment for me. It's too complicated and personal to get into here--suffice it to say that this day will go down as one of the great ones.

It doesn't hurt that I spent part of the afternoon in the peaceful autumnal splendor of the Jardin du Luxembourg.

Pictures and video to come.

Ben Heppner sings Ring excerpts

2006-11-15T11:38:00.000-05:00

[Forthcoming]

Philippe Jaroussky

2006-11-11T12:14:00.000-05:00

I am reading Balzac's Sarrasine at the moment. Witnessing the public's reaction to countertenor Philippe Jaroussky's creamy voice and youthful presence stirs interesting thoughts in my head. Born in 1978, the French singer seemed poised for an international career, but a Google search revealed that, inexplicably, he's no longer managed by IMG Artists. Now represented by a French firm, he's performing mostly in his homeland.

That's a shame, because he's one of the finest and most exciting young singers I've heard. His strikingly beautiful voice--rich, creamy, incandescent--covers a large range, from a strong chest register to shimmering tones above the staff. In Jaroussky's mouth, Vivaldi's florid (understatement of the season) coloratura sounds beautiful and natural. But he's equally at home in slow, introspective pieces, where he unleashes tender and luscious legato.

Following Thursday night's concert at the Theatre des Champs-Elysees, his label, Virgin Classics, hosted a signing to mark the release of Jaroussky's new disc. He and conductor Spinosi have a clear love for their work. They never stopped talking, carrying on a constant dialogue with fans who passed through. I didn't see one person who wasn't wearing a smile. It was an hour before I finally arrived at the signing table, and there remained at least a dozen people behind me.

[Note: I need to put some links in here. I also need to update a couple entries.]

Toni Morrison, William Forsythe and Peter Welz at the Louvre

2006-11-08T16:31:00.000-05:00

[Coming very soon]

Angela Gheorghiu at Salle Pleyel

2006-11-05T21:49:00.000-05:00

There are two things I will remember about Saturday night's concert. One, Gheorghiu's vocal performance, which was excellent. But just as strongly burned into my memory was what happened once the official program had ended. Gheorghiu and the audience were so fervent in their mutual admiration that, after four encores, the management shut off all lights in the venue, leaving only emergency lighting to see us out. Gheorghiu remained on stage in complete darkness for several minutes, waving and bowing down to the ground, making her conductor do the same. It was a strange moment.

After the first encore (a lovely "Non ti scardar di me," capped with a blazing high C), Roberto Alagna came on stage to present his wife with a large bouquet. The crowd went wild. Here's video of that. (In the confusion, I did shake the camera quite a bit--sorry about that.)

Here's a bit of Gheorghiu bowing in complete darkness, as if nothing had happened. This time I move the camera about to show the state of the place: those weren't house lights, but emergency lights! You can see Gheorghiu illuminated a couple times by camera flashes.

More on the music and the post-performance performance, later. (I also have a pic or two taken before the blackout.)

Orchestra dell'Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, Antonio Pappano and Renee Fleming present all-Strauss program in Rome

2006-11-01T18:35:00.000-05:00

More later.

UPDATE:

Santa Cecilia Hall, in Rome's Parco della Musica, is a beautiful venue filled with scarlet seats and cherry wood walls and ceilings. The sound in there is like nothing I've heard. The reverb is quite high, giving the impression of a liquid sound. Renee's voice swam in a Straussian sea.

Her performances of the Capriccio final scene and the Vier letzte Lieder were different from previous ones. They were more introspective than ever, and, especially in the Capriccio, there was a profound sense of sadness. (After the performance, she mentioned that there are so many ways to do it, and that it's different every night.) The explosive passion of "Caecilie", an encore, provided an appropriate contrast to the wistful poignancy of "Im Abendrot".

I will post more details later, but I wanted to share a bit of news about the program for Renee's upcoming concert at the Barbican. I am one of many, I am sure, who discovered the remarkable aria "Ich ging zu ihm," from Korngold's Der Wunder der Heliane, because of its inclusion on Homage: The Age of the Diva. Renee seems born to sing this rich and densely-orchestrated aria. It's in the sumptuous key of F# minor (the key of the final scene of Daphne and the trio from Der Rosenkavalier), and its undulating legato lines build intensity right up to the A# climax on the repetition of in Schmerzen ("in pain"), Heliane's qualified mea culpa (she gave of her body, but only in the youth's mind, and she did so only to console him). I asked if she has plans to sing this live, and she replied, "Yes! In London." Click here to listen to Lotte Lehmann's recording of the aria. Lehmann, who premiered the piece, inspired Renee's interpretation.

UPDATE (6:35pm, 11/4/06):

Before attending another live performance (Angela Gheorghiu at Salle Pleyel tonight), I wanted to get in a few more observations about Renee's Strauss concert on Tuesday.

I have heard Renee sing these pieces before (the Capriccio at Carnegie Hall and the Lieder at the Barbican), and also in recordings, but the performances on Tuesday were different. Pappano nursed subtle and sensuous playing from the orchestra, bringing out sparkling counterpoint. Renee sang completely in character, which is something that she does not do often at concert performances. During the "Moonlight Music" that opens the final scene of Capriccio, she wore an anxious expression. It was a nuanced, complex performance filled with gestures big and small. Most remarkable were the contrasting moments at the end. First, the power that she unleashed when she sang, "Will you be consumed by these two flames?" The weight in her voice even made me think of Salome's final scene. Second, the soft, subtle, slow, and introspective beauty of Madeleine's final words to her reflection. This was very different from her Carnegie Hall performance, which was louder, colorful and ironic. There were tears in her eyes as the orchestra played the lush finale. There's one part that sounds as if Madeleine is leaving--at that point, Renee sighed, rolled her eyes, and batted her eyelids. After the performance, I mentioned how differently she did this scene, and she said that there are so many ways to do it, and that it's different every night.

Her Vier letzte Lieder seemed to have been sung in one long breath. There is no question that she bears a strong emotional connection to this music.

Giulio Cesare in Egitto closes at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris

2006-10-24T19:30:00.000-04:00

AS ALWAYS, CLICK ON IMAGE TO VIEW LARGER
Pictured: Sunday, 22 October 2006; Renaud Delaigue (Curio), Sonia Prina (Cornelia), Franco Fagioli (Tolomeo), Christophe Rousset (conductor), Rosemary Joshua (Cleopatra), Andreas Scholl (Giulio Cesare), Mario Cassi (Achilla), [supernumery], Alice Coote (Sesto), [supernumery]
I attended opening night of this new production at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées in Paris. I returned for the final two performances. (In between the first and the fourth performance, I attended two other events at this venue, and I sat in the same section all five nights. You can bet they know me there!)

Without question the big news about this production is its star, Andreas Scholl. Christophe Rousset (who grooves like no other conductor I've seen) led Les Talens Lyriques, and Irina Brook headed the stage production.

Opening night was not an overwhelming success. The orchestra sounded dry. The audience was not enthusiastic about the production. During curtain calls, Brook was booed off the stage.

Things were entirely different on Sunday. I noticed not only the excellent singing of the cast, but also the warm playing of the orchestra. Also, I was surprised to observe that the production worked. There's nothing genius about it; it's a simple set consisting of sand dunes and some sight gags. But I found that it never distracted from what was happening, and so what if there were some cheap laughs? I was entertained, and, most importantly, I heard these voices.

I'll start with the other countertenors, Damien Guillon and Franco Fagioli, who are both my age (born in 1981). Nireno doesn't sing very much, but I like what I heard of Guillon's voice, and, with his spiked hair, he certainly had a presence on stage. I very much liked Fagioli as Tolomeo. Grotesque and decadent, this was a Tolomeo who swaggered about in purple, showing skin when he probably shouldn't. It is quite extraordinary to see such a young singer wield such a strong dramatic presence. As remarkable is the voice: loud, dark but not hooty, with a powerful lower register and a gleaming (but underused) top.

I heard Rosemary Joshua sing Cleopatra with David Daniels in Miami in 2000. I remember liking her then, and her performances here indicate that she loves singing this rather demanding role. The arias are difficult, to be sure, and, while I haven't done the math, I'm certain that Cleopatra sings quite a bit more than Cesare. Joshua's pretty voice is ideal for Handel. Her lines are clean, her coloratura clear as a bell, and her ornaments seem faithful to the music. (She did not interpolate many high notes--I doubt there was anything above A--but I did not miss them.) This is another singer with remarkable stage presence. A joy to watch on stage, she danced through this role--often literally, using moves that seem inspired by Madonna's "Don't Tell Me" video.

Recent Met debutante Alice Coote is one of the most impressive younger singers I have heard lately. (Elina Garanca is another.) Her beautiful, rich sound is largish, and at the end of her first aria--Handel certainly wrote Sesto some damn good solos--she unleashed the highest and loudest note of the evening. Her "Cara speme" was breathtaking, with seamless legato and shimmering tone to spare. She will sing Sesto in the Met revival this spring.

Speaking of breathtaking, on Sunday in particular, Scholl floored me with his gorgeous "Aure, deh, per pietà," whose opening phrase he started singing softly, gradually increasing the volume. (He does a similar thing at the opening of "Dove sei, amato bene" in Rodelinda.) This role also gives him plenty of chances to show off his dazzling coloratura. Scholl, who stands 6'5" (I haven't confirmed this; I heard it from a very famous recent Met costar of Scholl's), looked every bit the part as the ruler of the world. Still, he has a youthful presence, and also comes across as very warm and self-effacing. Sporting a Caesar cut and a light beard, he looked quite smart, especially in the tailored suit in the final scene.

The one dreadful part of the production: the horrible playing from the horns. What happened? All three nights. The boos were deserved. "Va tacito e nascosto", which is supposed to be a high point, was ruined, as were parts of the final scene.

Finally, I have to compliment the make-up artists, who made everyone look great.

Kiri Te Kanawa and Frederica von Stade in Paris

2006-10-22T09:14:00.000-04:00

A look at the program, which was presented in three United States locations as well as in England (I'm not sure where else), would make one conclude that it was meant for Paris. Like Madonna's "I Love New York," which insults every city but the Big Apple, Poulenc's ecstatic "Voyage a Paris," programmed in the first half, says that any place other than Paris sucks. Kiri looked at Flicka and was clearly extremely excited to sing that song to us. Such enormous smiles!

Last night's recital was the most satisfying performance I've seen this season. I can hardly top the accuracy of Joshua Koshman's spot-on review of the Berkley recital, which occurred about a month ago. He describes why these artists are so special, what makes them legends, and why the recital was such a blast.

As hard as this is, I'll sketch my thoughts. Kiri: silvery, creamy tone; gentle, elegant, natural delivery; poise; uncanny ability to sing so softly; crisp diction in English; unfailingly clean lines; gorgeous face. She barely opens her mouth. Sometimes, her teeth touch and her mouth is open, revealing them--where does the sound come from? I have never seen a classical singer look more attractive while singing.

Flicka's goofiness clearly rubs off on Kiri. But Flicka can also be deeply moving, as in "O Waly, Waly," and "Connais-tu le pays." In these pieces, she unleashed an especially haunting sound.

Part of the fun was watching the divas interact on stage. I'll never forget Kiri's elegant pose, her legs crossed, as she watched Flicka sing her solos. Flicka often closed her eyes in rapture as she listened to Kiri sing.

The finest groups on the program were the Berlioz, Poulenc, and Cantaloube.

The lovely "Barcarolle" from Hoffman was somewhat underplayed, and Kiri came off as a little detached because she constantly glanced at the song's text, which had been placed on the piano.

The highlight of the entire recital, for me, was the second and last encore, a song I've never heard, consisting of "Meows." (UPDATE: Rossini's "Cat Duet.") After the first movement, the divas bended their knees and Marilyn-Monroed (yeah, it's a verb), "Mr. President!" There was a sense that there was no separation between artist and human being; Kiri and Flicka were just Kiri and Flicka, having a ball on stage in Paris.

Kiri's was the first classical voice I ever heard live, when I was twelve. This was only my fourth time hearing her, and I never thought I'd have the chance to meet her. I still didn't, not really, but I did get an autograph. She messed up as she was signing and said, "Sorry!" with a laugh. The crowd at the stage door was large, and she stayed quite a long time signing just about every program (and vintage memorabilia) before saying "Bye!" and "Au revoir!" and walking down to the sidewalk, turning left, and retiring to the Plaza Athenee.

After watching Kiri disappear, I returned to the throng to catch Flicka. An assistant accompanying the mezzo said that she has to get going (Flicka looked at me and quipped, "Je suis vielle!"--the tone was, "They're saying I'm old!") and can sign for three more people; thankfully, I was one of those.

As Sarah and I left, glancing now and then at Flicka, who was walking parallel to us on the other side of the street, we turned a corner and, as I looked back, I saw the Eiffel Tower sparkling, as it does for ten minutes every hour on the hour. Magic.

Sarah and I proceeded to a lovely Italian restaurant on the Champs-Elysees and talked the night away; hours later, we caught cabs at the Arc de Triomphe.

Bejun Mehta

2006-10-18T17:21:00.000-04:00

It occurred to me that, given the number of performances I'm attending, it's going to be impossible to write on everything. So, I will post titles/descriptions of the events I attend, but I will elaborate on only a few of them. And I will share photos and videos when possible.

Having said this, I'll write on Mehta's Châtelet recital tomorrow morning, and I'll also tie up a couple other loose ends.

UPDATE (4:31pm): Time is too scarce!

Rumors

2006-10-18T06:58:00.000-04:00

Rameau's Les Paladins at the Châtelet with Les Arts Florissants, William Christie

2006-10-17T17:54:00.000-04:00

What a lovely production. Outstanding playing and singing, imaginative staging--what more could one want? After the three-hour performance, the audience demanded at least half a dozen curtain calls--if the Chatelet hadn't turned the lights on, we would've demanded a half dozen more. More on this opéra hip-hop (as it's billed) later.

The Age of This Diva

2006-10-17T07:29:00.000-04:00

I don't usually listen to recordings. I collect them as souvenirs. But this one is different. I cannot stop listening. As in her incandescent recording of Daphne, a beautiful souvenir of the concert performance at Carnegie Hall one year ago, I marvel at how sound engineers have finally figured out how to capture the sumptuous beauty of Renee Fleming's voice.

I find myself getting tipsy while listening to the Korngold tracks, especially "Ich ging zu ihm" from Das Wunder der Heliane. As Fleming has said [thanks, Sarah], you just want to take a bath in it.

More on this later.

UPDATE (6:36pm):

This eloquent passage is from Jay Nordlinger's review in the New York Sun:

I have a strange opinion, which is that Ms. Fleming, famous as she is, is underrated. Critics, particularly, tend to overlook how good she is, because she's something of a pop celebrity, and because her mannerisms — vocal mannerisms, I mean — can annoy. Really annoy. Like anyone else, she's capable of performing badly. But she can also perform like an immortal.

And "Homage" is one of the best albums she has ever done. It is a tribute, not just to divas past, or to the diva present, but to opera itself, and the human voice.

What he says is very true. Underrated and underappreciated.

Andreas Scholl is Giulio Cesare in Egitto in Paris

2006-10-16T19:59:00.000-04:00

Details on opening night coming soon.

In brief:

The production team was booed!

Fine singing.

3/4 of Les Troyens and Bryn Terfel

2006-10-16T04:01:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I had to leave during the second intermission of Les Troyens (I missed Act V), but I did catch this production in its entirety at the premiere last Wednesday. This opera is very trying on the audience. There are few rewards for a lot of pain. What was especially painful about this production was the awful singing. Jon Villars (Enee), even at his best, has a terribly unattractive sound. He has what seems to be a pushed-up baritone. It's a loud, weird voice. Elena Zaremba (Anna), beautiful on stage, ruined her character's beautiful lines with a garbled, extremely hooty sound. Neither was in command of pitch.

But there were some good things. Deborah Polaski has a powerful voice that cuts through the hall with astonishing clarity, but she also sounds lovely singing softly. Polaski has a formidable stage presence. She is not a subtle actress, however. And though I can see there might be reasons for this production to have her sing both Cassandre and Didon, I'm ambivalent about the results.

The best thing about the production, as I mentioned previously, was Eric Cutler's lovely Iopas. Cutler seems a little awkward on stage, but his tiny, beautiful voice is assured. On opening night the audience erupted in ovations after his solo, but this didn't happen yesterday. He delicately caressed the long phrases, sighing beautiful pianissimi and rising up to a loud, ringing high C. He reminds me of Matthew Polenzani, who may well be my favorite tenor, although Polenzani's voice is larger and has a lot more weight.

The Opera posted a video from the sublime Act IV love duet, which is probably the high point of Troyens. This may be from the DVD of the production, which was filmed at Salzburg. I think you'll "hear" my points about Villars and Polaski.

I'll write on Bryn Terfel later today. He rocked Salle Pleyel last night; I believe they're repairing the roof as I write this.

No, I do not have naked pictures of Catherine Naglestad

2006-10-15T05:21:00.000-04:00

Come on, people. Catherine Naglestad has got to be the most frequently Googled opera singer in Europe. My site meter is exploding with entries revealing naglestad salome as Google search terms. I've also gotten a few catherine naglestad nude or catherine naglestad naked pictures searches. I know these people are not interested in her voice or her portrayal. They want to see her breasts and her

I attended my third Salome of this run last night. It was not the strongest of the three. But there were some good moments.

Kiri

2006-10-14T09:03:00.000-04:00

Les Troyens

2006-10-12T13:52:00.000-04:00

So, I went to opening night of Les Troyens at the Bastille. I'm going again on Sunday, so I'll have more to say. The most exciting part for me was hearing Eric Cutler. I'll write a little more on this later.

I tried for a fifth and final Lucia tonight, but, alas, it was sold out. I was a little disappointed, but I'm happy I got to see it four times.

Live in the moment

2006-10-10T19:23:00.000-04:00

My friend Sarah passed this along: "Heppner, Levine, Pape, Scotto and Voigt Win 2006 Opera News Awards."

Awards are always silly (Michael Cunningham once said it's like a bunch of people getting together and deciding that the bell pepper is the best vegetable), but people in opera don't have many chances to be recognized, so this is sort of nice. It's interesting that three of the four singers are best known for their Wagner. Rene Pape is one of my very favorite singers. Voigt's Salome is big news this year--I'm so curius about how that will turn out.

Renee Fleming, as the most famous opera singer working today, is such an obvious choice for this award that they'll probably wait a decade to give it to her. Domingo is the only other singer as famous, and he got it last year, because he's old.

This reminds me of something. There was a point, around 2000, when Kiri Te Kanawa, the most famous and popular soprano for a couple decades, became a legend. The opera queens stopped bashing her and began praising her Strauss and Mozart. She entered the pantheon of immortal legends.

Many years from now, it will be really interesting to see how this plays out with Fleming. When she's absent from the spotlight, people will start to remember what got her there in the first place.

Do a lot of people take our best singers for granted? Yes, and they're really missing out. People need to get off their couches and go to live performances. Opera wasn't meant for little computer screens and iPods. Those are good for archives, but don't sell yourself short.

Well, I take that back. I'm all for choice. Do as you please. If listening to scratchy old bootlegs of a dead singer gives you hours of orgasmic pleasure, then by all means. But there are great singers today, and we need to go out and hear them and support them--while they're singing, and singing well, not when they're mute or deceased "legends."

UPDATE:

Amusingly, in reviewing performances of Te Kanawa qua legend, critics pointed out the simple elegance of her delivery, and contrasted this style with the "mannered" singing of Renee Fleming. In her prime, Te Kanawa's "simple elegance" was written off as bland and uninvolved singing. Will the expressiveness of Fleming's singing be one day recognized as a virtue?

Fourth Lucia in Paris

2006-10-09T18:12:00.000-04:00

I'm sure glad I was there tonight. For a couple reasons. One, I love this production and cast. Two, some things went wrong tonight, and it was quite thrilling to see.

First, from Lucia's opening lines, I noticed that Natalie Dessay was having an off night. The first and third performances I attended were vocally perfect. In the second the voice was slightly vulnerable. But tonight, the voice was remarkably different. The tone wasn't as clear. There were a few breaks in her voice. I didn't have a pitch fork out, but I believe she replaced the high E-flat that she did on the other nights with a lower pitch (D-flat?) at the end of "Regnava nel silenzio" and at the end of the wedding dress scene. She compensated for the weaknesses, however, with ferocious acting.

A couple things went wrong on stage. The first was at the end of the Lucia-Edgardo duet. There's a swing in this production [when I stop feeling lazy I'll link to a previous post where I youtubed a video clip I took of said swing; in the meantime, you can just scroll down for it], and at the end of the duet, Edgardo pushes Lucia and they play around. He jumps in front before she swings back, etc. Anyway, tonight, at the end, something weird happened (I didn't see exactly what) and Matthew Polenzani didn't catch Dessay or she was unable to stop, and, with her standing on it, the swing kept swinging and jerked forward. She held on tight and kept singing. Polenzani looked a little nervous and shot a glance at Pido. Dessay could have easily fallen, and Pido would have had to stop the orchestra. The professionals that they are, the scene ended smoothly and the audience probably didn't notice.

The other mishap was significantly more dramatic, and I'm even grateful for it because it led to one of the most memorable scenes I have ever seen on stage. So, the set includes a bunch of large metal ladder-like things that fold across the stage. But something strange happened and the large folded ladder that's meant to create a huge triangle at the center of the stage did not descend properly. This triangle/pyramid contraption is important because Dessay climbs over it, up the left end, down the right end (where she slides down, actually) during "Spargi d'amaro pianto." It's quite fun to watch. Anyway, since it didn't descend properly, when she walked over there, a couple stage people (dressed as supers--maybe they were supers?) who had tried to fix it indicated to her that she is not to mount. Because she was distracted by this, Dessay eliminated the wonderful scream that she usually does just as the "il fantasma!" music plays, right before "Spargi".

She walked stage left, and knew she had to improvise. Boy, did she improvise! Because she didn't have this large thing to climb, she had to fill all of the dramatic space. She picked up a large hay fork that's used in the production--the priest holds up Lucia's dead husband's hat and a bloody cloth on it. Arturo (who is extremely creepy in this production) brandishes it at some of the young couples on stage. Anyway, as she's singing, she wields the very large tool. Since this clearly had not been rehearsed, it was a little odd--the hat and bloody cloth fell off at some point. Dessay brandished the fork at the characters on stage. At the end of the first part of the aria, she flung the fork on the stage with a loud crash. She picked up the bloody cloth and threw it across the stage. She kicked a couple balloons, and one fell in the orchestra put. Right before her last phrase (the famous "Ah" that ends in a climactic E-flat), she started trembling, looking utter confused, sad, ecstatic. I have never seen such intensity on stage. For the first time, she screamed after singing, crying out, laughing/sobbing. I'm not sure what state Lucia was in, but it was scary. The ambiguity made it even scarier. The lights stayed on her shaking body for longer than usual.

The ovations were intense. Her curtain call (in this production, the Opera allows a curtain call following the mad scene) featured a standing ovation. She glared at Pido (or someone)--It must have been tough for her to have to improvise dramatically.

The other news is that I've totally changed my mind about Polenzani. Yes, it took four performances, but I finally got it. It's possible that he's gotten better over the run. Or maybe he's just grown on me. I don't know. He has a rich, beautiful voice, and his high notes are remarkable. He can be ferocious or sweet. His pianissimi are the best I could imagine in a tenor. And dramatically I found him to be quite compelling tonight. His final scene remains the best, again drawing tears. And Dessay, who appears in this scene as a phantom or angel or something, is utterly beautiful. I'll never forget that gorgeous image. The opera ends, in this production, with Dessay leaning against the frame of stage right, laughing ecstatically in her gorgeous wedding dress.

Of the eleven performances, two remain. This was my last, and I'm delighted to have attended several performances of this exciting and beautifully sung production.

Dolly Parton

2006-10-07T00:38:00.000-04:00

I somehow missed the news that Dolly is a 2006 Kennedy Center Honors recipient. The Honors are severely underpromoted. Perhaps this is a reflection of the majority of the honorees: tremendously talented people who have made enormous contributions to the very best of American arts and culture, but who are inevitably marginalized in mainstream culture.

(A friend mentioned that Jessica Simpson was on Jimmy Kimmel's show and, answering a question about role models, Jesscia singled out Dolly and revealed that her idol is receiving some big award (though she couldn't remember the award's name) and asked her to perform. I Google-searched and found the Kennedy Center press release.)

This would be a good opportunity to expand my much-delayed (over ten months) Dolly Parton post, which was to include a review of her Boca Raton concert on November 26, 2005. I'll see what I can do.

Life is messy, I always say

2006-10-05T20:09:00.000-04:00

Come upstairs. I don't care why you come. No, that's not what I mean. Loretta, I love you. Not like they told you love is and I didn't know this either. But love don't make things nice, it ruins everything, it breaks your heart, it makes things a mess. We're not here to make things perfect. Snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. We are here to ruin ourselves and break our hearts and love the wrong people and die! The storybooks are bullshit. Come upstairs with me, baby! Don't try to live your life out to somebody else's idea of sweet happiness. Don't try to live on milk and cookies when what you want is meat! Red meat just like me! It's wolves run with wolves and nothing else! You're a wolf just like me! Come upstairs with me and get in my bed! Come on! Come on! Come on!

--Moonstruck

Closing night of La Clemenza di Tito in Paris; Elina Garanca and Anna Caterina Antonacci triumph

2006-10-02T18:27:00.000-04:00

More later.

UPDATE (10/3/06, 1:52am):

I know some people don't like this opera. I wasn't very fond of it when I saw the Ponnelle production at the Met in May 2005. But after tonight's performance, I can't help but love this opera, especially when it's played with such beauty and conviction.

This Herrman production at the Palais Garnier is quite different from the sepia Met production. The stage is so bright that each patron who buys a program is given a libretto whose cover reads (I translate): "The brightness of this production's scenery diminishes the legibility of the surtitles. For this reason, the Paris Opera offers you the entire French translation of the libretto of La Clemenza di Tito." From where I was sitting (a wonderful seat), I was still able to read the titles, though it was quite a strain on my eyes. Since the house lights were switched off, it wasn't really possible to read along with the libretto (and it was difficult to find your spot anyway, since the translation in the booklet was different from the translation on the surtitles).

At any rate, one of the highlights of this production: Vitellia's gorgeous costumes. What a joy to see Anna Caterina Antonacci, a major star in Europe who is unknown in the US. A beautiful woman, she has a powerful stage presence, and her equally powerful voice, though at times almost strident, can be downright thrilling. Her Vitellia was a convincing seductress, a cruel beauty who has no qualms about sacrificing Sesto's life for her own gain. We pity her when she reveals her treachery to Tito. We know how humiliated she must feel, but we also know that she has been cleansed of her evil by the constancy of Sesto. And Tito's clemency is a beautiful thing. It's karma!

Beautiful, youthful, and endowed with a golden voice, even more impressive tonight was Elina Garanca as Sesto. Radiant tone, flawless coloratura. And she actually looks and sounds like a beautiful youth. She got the loudest ovations of the night.

Ekaterina Garanca as Servilia and Hannah Esther Minutillo as Annio also gave lovely performances.

Salome in Paris a second time around

2006-10-01T18:51:00.000-04:00

Today's matinee at the Bastille confirmed my suspicion on opening night: the company could have used another rehearsal before the premiere. The performance today, the run's fourth, was solid. Catherine Naglestad flourished in her portrayal and her shimmering voice soared.

More later--pictures too!

UPDATE (8:57pm):

Here is a photo of Catherine Naglestad's first curtain call. You can see Iokanaan's head on the silver platter, a couple of the veils, and a vase from which Salome drank wine as she battled with Herod for her reward.

More later. (And I haven't forgotten to elaborate on that Mozart concert.)

UPDATE (10/3/06, 2:21am):

I'm looking at the notes I scribbled during Sunday's performance.

Naglestad succeeded brilliantly in portraying Wilde's teenaged princess. She clearly and effectly sketched her take (the director's take?) on Salome's motivation. When she hears Iokanaan's voice, she's horrified and aroused at the same time. She says to Narraboth, with glee and fascination--and with a huge smile--that Iokanaan says horrible things about her mother. Naglestad's girlish grin is remarkable.

One memorable line is her lovely delivery of "the son of man", where she repeats Iokanaan's phrase, in the same melody. Iokanaan tells her there is only one who can save her, the son of man. She sings, "the son of man," transfixed by Iokanaan, and one might think that she's seriously interested in what he has to say. But, softly and innocently, she then asks, "Is he as beautiful as you, Iokanaan?" No, no one can save her . . .

In this production, Iokanaan is tempted by Salome--there's a strange dance between the two following his cursing of her. He moves to touch her, and then resists. This choreography reinforces Salome's motivation in this production: she's a woman scorned.

Taking up this point, just before Salome dances, she looks towards the cistern (in this production, a large cage that slowly glides in from stage right; see my opening night post for a production photo) and points. After the dance, as she's naked, Naglestad grins mischievously at Iokanaan, who is on stage (his cage slides in at some point during the dance and remains there until some point during the Salome-Herod power struggle). Her expression seems to say, "I'm gonna getcha!"

Naglestad gave a ferocious performance, as the copious sweat on her face would attest. She's a major star here--I've gotten a large number of hits to this blog from European (mostly German) visitors Google-searching her name and "salome" and/or "paris"--and it's not hard to see why.

Chris Merritt was really an outstanding Herod. There was so much to like about his performance: his strong voice, his wonderfully amusing antics (one of the funniest: after Salome sings, "I would like, on a silver platter . . .", he picks up and plays with one of her veils, laughing and covering his head with it--when she sings "the head . . .", he removes the veil and looks surprised, then horrified when she sings "of Iokanaan"). Jane Henschel also an effective Herodias, rather understated and elegant. We pity her when she watches in horror as Salome kisses the head--Henschel backed away slowly and disappeared into the palace, her eyes never wavering.