David Pogue on Blog Comments

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.