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On 4 November, the Opéra national de Paris are screening their new production Janacek's Cunning Little Vixen (La Petite Renarde rusée) live on the internet at 19.30 French time, 6.30pm here in the UK.
It will be shown on the following sites - WWW.OPERADEPARIS.FR, WWW.MEDICI.TV and WWW.FRANCE2.FR - and available until 31 December.
More details here.
No, not from me.
The FT is running a prize draw to win a weekend in Lucerne including travel, accommodation, and of course concert tickets.
You need to collect two vouchers from the next three days' papers.
Details here.
I think most of us would agree that however pants the old Royal Opera House website was, the new 'improved' site is far worse. Gone forever, apparently, is the brilliant 'view from seat' seating plan, and finding out basic stuff like what's on in six months time is ridiculously complicated. However there are a few useful pages hidden in the undergrowth......
Production information
A complete list of 2008/09 productions, with casts and performance dates. This is the only place to find detailed information on the full year: http://www.roh.org.uk/uploadedFiles/Press_and_Media/PDFs/theroyalopera0809season[1].pdf
A 2008/09 season summary - it shows only the names of the operas and when booking opens: http://www.roh.org.uk/booknow/whentobook.aspx
All press releases, including cast changes, are on this page. It's the only place on the site to find the cast change details which used to be (more sensibly) on the front page: http://www.roh.org.uk/pressandmedia/pressreleases.aspx
Ticket information
How to get day tickets and standby tickets: http://www.roh.org.uk/booknow/ticketinformation.aspx
Group booking discounts: http://www.roh.org.uk/booknow/group_bookings.aspx
£10 student standby scheme: http://www.travelex.royaloperahouse.org/StudentIntro/index.cfm
General information
The 2007/08 annual review, which summarises the past season, and includes audience and financial statistics : http://www.roh.org.uk/uploadedFiles/About_the_Royal_Opera_House/Annual_Review/annualreview0708[1].pdf
Royal Opera House productions at the cinema and on the radio in the near future: http://www.roh.org.uk/cinemas/index.aspx and http://www.roh.org.uk/whatson/onradio/index.aspx
An old page on the 2003 production of Peter Grimes which explains the mechanics of putting on an opera at Covent Garden and shows some of the people and processes involved: http://www.rohedpetergrimes.org.uk/
A similar page for the ballet, based on Swan Lake: http://www.rohedswanlake.org.uk/
And finally, your gripes invited: http://www.roh.org.uk/contact/index.aspx
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***UPDATE***
The Royal Opera House have responded (!!!) - see 'Comments' below - including a promise that "features that are currently absent and which may seem "gone forever" are actually in development."
New whizzy website eagerly awaited!
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David "I loathe Traviata" McVicar, interviewed in today's Scotsman, judiciously backpedals on the eve of unveiling his new production of, er, Traviata for Scottish Opera.
Concerned that "It is perfectly possible to see a production of La Traviata where the audience have absolutely no idea what the story is about", he's aiming for a more explicit portrayal of its demi-monde setting. So he's made a study of the story's inspiration, Alphonsine Duplessis, and legendary 19th century courtesans like Cora Pearl and La Paiva.
Only Northern Britain merits this meticulousness though: "I would never have accepted at a big American house or Covent Garden because you just wouldn't get the cast to rehearse. They would just turn up with so many preconceptions." Oops?
Matilde di Shabran - Royal Opera House, 27 October 2008
Matilde di Shabran may not be a great opera, but the performances alone made it worth a second visit. When again will we get the chance to catch Juan Diego Flórez, unquestionably the world's finest tenore di grazia doing what he does best, and doing it for three hours no less?
And tonight JDF was firing on all cylinders. No trace of the illness or tiredness or whatever that had slightly flawed his first night performance. Just endless yards of scintillating fioritura and sky high top notes casually popped out, no effort at all. Even suspended from the rattling banisters with Carlo Rizzi's orchestra racing away a naughty half beat ahead, he made it look easy. Though with, again, a section of the audience applauding him simply for coming on stage, the crowd was never going to be that hard to please.
Aleksandra Kurzak and Vesselina Kasarova had another terrific night. Kasarova's idiosyncrasies are never going to be to everyone's taste, but Aleksandra Kurzak's charm had the audience eating from the palm of her hand. "I think I'm in love" sighed the gentleman behind me.
Marco Vinco's sonorous Aliprando aside, the rest of the cast weren't quite up to the mark vocally. But if any opera needs a little comic relief to leaven its dramatic improbabilities and economical scoring it's this one. Alfonso Antoniozzi's Isidoro provided most of the energy and nearly all the laughs on stage. OK, his coloratura was rarely even close to pitch, but parlando and speech were impeccable and, more importantly, funny.
Some reviewers were critical of the chorus streaming on stage via the front row aisles. But from my stage-side perch, all I could see on front row faces was delight. (OK, maybe a little fear too). But it was far more gracefully handled than a similar manoeuvre in the National Theatre's current Oedipus - and looked fresher too.
This may be a less than a perfect production of a less than perfect opera, but it's something more than a Juan Diego Flórez star vehicle.
Simon Keenlyside / Malcolm Martineau - Wigmore Hall, 26 October 2008
Fauré Mandoline No. 1 from 'Cinq mélodies de Venise'; En sourdine; Green No. 3 from 'Cinq mélodies de Venise'; Notre amour; Fleur jetée; Spleen; Madrigal de Shylock; Aubade; Le papillon et la fleur Ravel Histoires naturelles Wolf Gesang Weylas; Heimweh; Auf eine Christblume II; Lied vom Winde Schubert An Silvia D. 891; Die Einsiedelei D393; Verklärung D59; Freiwilliges Versinken D700; Gruppe aus dem Tartarus, D583; Himmelsfunken D651; Ständchen D957; Die Sterne D939; Auf der Bruck D853
Encores: Wolf Der Knabe und das Immlein; An die Geliebte Poulenc Hôtel
This was the second of two identical recitals that Simon Keenlyside is committing to disc for the Wigmore Live CD series. And if the engineer can zap out the intrusive but ohso predictable coughing it should make one terrific recording.
New dad (congratulations!) Simon is like the Swiss Army knife of baritones - he can do just about anything. Well, except pluck your brows or pick stones out of ponies' hooves, but you have to pay extra for that.
At Wigmore Hall there was little trace of the physicality so central to Simon's operatic performances. Nattily turned out in a three-piece grey suit, he commanded the Wigmore stage by sheer force of presence, fingers locked over his chest. And he was in excellent form, even though his admirable insistence on performing in original keys meant he was stretched tissue-thin at the top.
The first half's Fauré, drawn from the less sticky end of the syrup pot, was sung with affection and feeling, and Ravel's quirky animal songs allowed room for characterisation. His diction was clear without being fussy, and his French mostly excellent. Only a tendency to nasalise vowels too early marked him out as English (a bit pedantic eh, but unless long vowels are sung open, only nasalising towards the very end of the note, it's a dead giveaway.) Malcolm Martineau was in perfect accord, locating as he so often does that tricky middle ground between anonymity and assertiveness.
Simon sang everything without a score, only a couple of lines in the second half's Wolf group challenging his memory. But the Schubert group which followed was the highlight of the evening for me, traversing from the sublime yearning of Ständchen to the operatic thunder of Auf der Bruck and everything in between. The encores continued on a high. The main programme had been beautifully sung, every note placed perfectly, but here in the pair of Wolf songs Simon let rip more, taking risks he perhaps hadn't dared earlier. It left me wanting more....the ideal way to end any recital.
Iolanta - LPO / Jurowski - Royal Festival Hall, 25 October 2008
How many conductors can tether their hair in a Queen Victoria bun and still look cool? How many would even try? How many have enough hair, come to that? In Vladimir Jurowski's case, it simply adds to his swami-like aura of inscrutability. Sigh. A few dirty looks were directed at the women who yelled "I love you!" as he left the stage, but I understand.
Since Opera Holland Park tackled it this summer, Iolanta has been growing on me. It has its draggy bits and its derivative bits, and any story about a blind princess who gains sight through the power of love and self-awareness is undeniably on the silly side. But there are moments of real invention, starting with the rugged chromaticism of the overture, and it builds into a compelling whole. (There's a 1955 Russian recording available on last.fm - not exactly brilliant, but at least it's free).
Part of Jurowski's Revealing Tchaikovsky series, this concert performance of Iolanta was staffed mostly by well-drilled Russian imports. Not only did all but one do their stuff without a score, but they even managed a little stage business in the postage-stamp space between the violins and the podium.
Jurowski's balletically airy reading took time to warm up. But it eventually touched the heart with King Rene's arioso. Sergei Aleksashkin's noble, timeworn bass was so committed it deserved nothing less than complete attention.
The tenor Yevgeny Shapovalov as Iolanta's suitor Count Vaudemont had a mixed night, hitting his first top Bflat in falsetto, but he went for bust after that, with a heroic ring and bags of passion.
Tatiana Monogarova was appealing but a little chilly in the title role - I was more impressed by the sprightly and silvery Ekaterina Lekhina in the much smaller part of Brigitta.
Rodion Pogossov's delivery of Robert's aria almost inevitably suffered in comparison to Hvorostovsky's magnificent encore, still fresh in the mind from last week, but like Alexandra Durseneva (Martha), Maxim Mikhailov (Bertrand) and Vyacheslav Pochapsky (Ibn-Hakia), his performance was committed and hard to criticise.
The only (minor) disappointment was the small Moscow Conservatory Chamber Choir, whose sound simply didn't carry to where I was sitting - whether this is down to them or to the horrendous acoustics of the Royal Festival Hall is hard to tell.
Jurowski's lean, mean Tchaikovsky clearly has some appeal. Despite the relative unfamiliarity of the work and the soloists, there was a pretty good turnout for this. I wonder if the 2 for 1 ticket offer helped?
Here Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazon tackle Iolanta and Robert's duet:
When ENO shows don't sell well, it's generally possible to pick up discounted tickets on the day.
There are two sources I'm aware of - please let me know about any others you've come across.
The first is through English National Opera itself. Tickets can be less than half price, but note they're only available to concession holders, not to the general public:
The second way is through the TKTS discount theatre ticket booth in Leicester Square, shown above. You can only buy in person, on the day of performance, and they don't always have a ticket allocation. The TKTS Today webpage (updated daily) shows what's available, but as a rule they should have tickets if the show is more than a third unsold on the day. If you get to the booth and ENO isn't displayed on the list of available shows, it's still worth asking, as they can sometimes phone through and get tickets anyway.
The discount is generally 50% plus a small handling charge. Yesterday (below) they had tickets for the unexceptional Cav and Pag for £27 down from £49.
In theory, TKTS also sell Royal Opera House tickets, but I've never known any to be available.
Matilde di Shabran - Royal Opera House, 23 October 2008 (opening night)
Matilde di Shabran isn't really top drawer Rossini. Dramatically, its three-plus hours alternately drag and baffle as Rossini dawdles through irrelevances and skips key points in the preposterous plot. And Johnny Ramone would have admired its economy of chordage. Although Rossini went back and partially rewrote it after its hurried debut, it's tempting to say he didn't go nearly far enough. No wonder it's such a rarity on the schedules. But, with the right cast, it has enough tonsil-bending coloratura and other vocal Everests to gratify those of us who like that sort of thing. A 'singers opera' in other words.
The star attraction of this production is Juan Diego Flórez, whose stock in London is so high that he got a round of applause simply for walking on stage. (And I do hope that won't become a habit here).
Now, I <3 JDF greatly, but I didn't feel he was on the toppest of form tonight. Not that he did anything wrong - it's just that I've heard him better. Perhaps he was simply, wisely, conserving his fire - Corradino, the comic villain-turned-hero of the piece, is a long, arduous part, and he has five more performances to go.
Anyway, the sound didn't come out with its usual ease, and(surprisingly) lacked projection initially, though he did seem more relaxed and expansive in the second act. To be fair, there were far more pluses than minuses, and I am simply comparing his performance to my expectations of it. His technique is fabulous, and that steel diaphragm of his punched out every rapidfire note with precision.
Strangely (considering what his fame rests on) it was in the lyrical passages that he really convinced, displaying a greater conviction and breadth of palette than I've ever heard from him before.
Aleksandra Kurzak personified the flirtatious, cunning Matilde with charm and wit, skipping up and down double octaves with outrageous insouciance and deadly accuracy. Not hard to believe she could melt the flinty heart of the grouchy Corradino with a few bats of her eyelashes. Bar a couple of screamy moments at the top, this is the best singing I've heard in her several Covent Garden appearances. And she's somehow developed a real star presence, something that draws the eye even when there's competition for attention like Juan Diego Flórez.
Vesselina Kasarova too gave a standout performance. Edoardo is a bizarrely written part, roaming over three octaves, and Kasarova, with her pronounced register breaks and ripe, dusky sound made it seem even odder.
But she brought her own special brand of emotional conviction and outstanding technical control, and made a convincing teenage boy. Her two arias contain some of the opera's most attractive arrangements, including a beautifully-taken horn solo in the second, and one could almost sense the orchestra's relief at the break from the relentless rum-ti-tum.
But Matilde majors on ensemble pieces rather than arias, and it was clear that great attention had been paid to getting these perfectly co-ordinated and balanced. The singers in the minor parts may not have had Florez-standard finesse solo, but in ensemble they were perfect. The chorus too, always reliable anyway, seemed to have a special polish tonight.
Mario Martone's production, imported from the Rossini Festival in Pesaro, is unremarkable but inoffensive - in other words, exactly what's required for this opera.
Some of the performers, notably Alfonso Antoniozzi and his sketchily-sung but waggishly-acted Isidoro, clearly have the acting skillz in spades; others could perhaps have benefitted from more directorial attention in this area.
It seemed Martone's efforts had been focussed on careful blocking around the centrepiece, a (rather noisy) pair of metal spiral staircases - which incidentally had to be rebuilt for the Royal Opera House, as the Italian originals were so heavy they would have bust the ohso delicate English stage. Some of the performers enter the stage via the audience in the stalls - a tired idea in straight theatre perhaps, but something that's rarely done in opera, and it worked well from my perch in the amphitheatre. Some of those in stalls circle right got rather closer to the show than they expected though.
and here's a video from the first outing of this production, in Pesaro 2004 (with Juan Diego Flórez in top form):
(****Check out the post above for Matilde di Shabran opening night comments and photos****)
How do you get tickets for the Royal Opera House events when the website comes up with that dismal little message "We are sorry...There are currently no tickets available" ?
I've been asked this a few times recently by desperate Juan Diego Flórez fans so here are my tips, in order of expected effectiveness:
1 - check the website regularly for returns. On the day of performance the ROH release unwanted press/VIP etc tickets so don't despair even if the performance still looks sold out the day before. In my experience, it's mainly the cheapest and the most expensive tickets which turn up, not the mid-priced. (At the time of writing, there are 47 tickets available online for the previously 'sold out' premiere of Matilde di Shabran, which starts in three hours time.)
2 - some tickets are only sold to personal callers, so they appear as unavailable on the website even though they're not. Be warned that these have a limited view or other issues which the staff will explain to you - but worth a try if you can get to the ROH easily.
3 - if 1 doesn't work (and it usually does for me) you could try day tickets. These are no longer mentioned on the new, cr@p, ROH website, but I am assured they still exist. The day seats aren't the best - they all have limited or distant views - but they're reasonably priced by ROH standards at £50 or less. Note that they are not discounted, or any cheaper than regular tickets in the same vicinity. There used to be 67 seats available and I understand this is still the case. It's strictly one ticket per applicant. They officially go on sale at 10am, but people start queuing earlier if demand is high. Ask the box office the day before for advice on the best time to get there.
4 - get to the Royal Opera House well before the start time and join the returns queue - again ask box office beforehand for advice on timing. Be aware that you could wait for hours and still not get a ticket though.
5 - stand outside the Piazza entrance and brandish your cash subtly. (In London, people don't use the ticket wanted/for sale signs that you may see in other countries, as pictured above). If you can't capture a member of the public on their way in to return a ticket, there are often a few touts around. Be careful that you're buying an authentic ticket.
6 - ticket agencies/hotel concierges/Ebay are very much a last resort. Even if you get an authentic ticket - by no means guaranteed - you will generally end up paying way over the odds for it.
For reference, this is what Royal Opera House tickets look like:
Japan is running out of bananas as shoppers cleared the shelves following a TV appearance by opera singer turned musical theatre star Kumiko Mori.
Mori revealed that enjoying a banana every morning helped her drop 7kg from her ample 100kg proportions in just 6 weeks, prompting thousands of tubby Japanese to follow suit.
Not that she was too bothered about her size in her opera singing days: "the heroine Violetta is supposed to die of tuberculosis, but she is usually played by overweight singers like me so I always imagined that she was really suffering from diabetes. These kinds of thoughts just crack me up."
Here's a video about the banana diet phenomenon:
“I am an authoritarian figure and I do frighten people,” David McVicar tells the Times. “I don't bark, I don't shout, but I know I can scare people I'm not saying I use that as a tool but I know people are nervous.”
And he's not exactly hanging out for an invitation from Milan either: “La Scala does not do top-notch. You may see the most expensive singers in the world, but actually that performance has been turned around in three days, whereas a Scottish Opera performance is done with time spent on it, with commitment and intelligence and company spirit."
More modest admissions and discreetly ventured opinions here.
Ian Bostridge / Mitsuko Uchida / Elizabeth Kenny / Corin Redgrave - St Luke's, 18 October 2008
A programme devoted solely to the words of John Donne makes perfect sense in theory, but the connection is more intellectual than musical, and the way this one was structured made for a curiously fragmented evening. The first half included love poems set for voice and lute by Donne's contemporaries; the second the searing Britten cycle The Holy Sonnets of John Donne.
Scattered between these were readings of Donne's poetry and religious prose. Or were the songs interleaved between the readings? Corin Redgrave's meticulously-wrapped syllables may have edged the recitations into the lead.
The lute songs were interesting curiosities I suppose, but even Bostridge and Kenny's craftsmanship couldn't conceal their slightness.
Britten's Holy Sonnets of John Donne were another matter. Britten's grim response to the horrors of the Second World War, composed after his visit to liberated German concentration camps, articulate his rage and despair.
They're not an easy listen, and Bostridge slipped naturally into their tortured intensity, corkscrewing his frame in a physical mirror of the angular lines. Rather too many words were addressed to the floor, but even so, there was a shocking directness to their fury. Mitsuko Uchida, rigid and disciplined on the piano stool, produced a bold, impassioned accompaniment. It's hard to conceive how a performance of this quality could be bettered.
The Tale of Tsar Saltan - Mariinsky Opera - Sadlers Wells, 17 October 2008
The Swan Princess (all illustrations by Ivan Bilibin, 1905)
As a review of the 2005 Mariinsky Theatre premiere of this production points out, it was designed for children ("the younger the audience, the better").
This snippet of information Sadlers Wells withheld, no doubt thinking the more £60 tickets we can flog, the better.
But it had plenty to offer for the grown-ups too - one of the reasons it remains a staple of the Russian repertoire, despite being rarely-staged over here.
The Tale of Tsar Saltan naturally lends itself to a family-friendly treatment in any case. Rimsky-Korsakov took a quintessential fairytale complete with beautiful princesses and wicked stepsisters and packed it with hummable tunes and soothing harmonies.
Though structurally it owes something to Wagner, with its through-composition and leitmotifs, there's little harmonic adventure, and no attempt to symbolise, characterise, or probe more than a millimetre below the surface. So the decision of director Alexander Petrov (also artistic director of a children's musical theatre) for visual splash at the expense of psychological insight is artistically appropriate, not just junior audience-friendly.
The sets are really the star in this production, and they are closely based on Ivan Bilibin's 1937 designs. They were in turn based on Bilibin's 1905 illustrations for the Pushkin poem The Tale of Tsar Saltan - as was the opera itself in 1900. So while they're not technically the original sets for the opera, they can at least claim a degree of contemporaneity.
The folkloric designs pulsate with colour and pattern, and the conscious artifice of the flat wooden sets emphasises the unreality of the tale being told. The only modern touch came in the orchestral interludes, accompanied by gently-animated backdrops of Bilibin's illustrations.
Gowned in luscious brocades and explosive prints, the performers didn't go for naturalism either. The sort of choreographed gesticulation on display could have looked as wooden as the sets in another context.
But when your hero prince turns into an insect and back again, then marries a swan who turns into a princess, it works perfectly. Or almost. The infamous Flight of the Bumblebee, portrayed here by a dancer racing round the stage with a fist-sized cuddly toy bee on a stick, provoked perfectly understandable laughter.
As the Mariinsky company carry on performing in St Petersburg while they're on tour, what we got in London was a sort of B team - not that it was particularly obvious. The singers weren't particularly starry, but none were less than competent, and there were some terrific character performances.
Victoria Yastrebova, a sort of Netrebko-in-waiting, could certainly hold the stage, and as the Tsaritsa who is wrongly cast out by the Tsar had the opportunity to present a more rounded and human characterisation than some of the others.
Daniil Shtoda, who played the hero Tsarevich, was the only disappointment. He sounded for the most part pinched and tiny-voiced, though in a few lines he opened out and showed he can do better.
But the show was almost stolen by the smaller comic parts, especially the interfering crone Babarikha, played by Nadezhda Vasilieva, and Vassily Gorshkov's silly old Grandpa.
The orchestra under Tugan Sokhiev sounded oddly less 'Russian' than I'd expected, but splendid all the same. A few brass-laden moments threatened to lift the roof off Sadlers Wells (obviously EU noise regs haven't migrated east) but they were generally well-balanced with the stage, and tremendously spirited in the orchestral interludes.
Not everyone enjoyed the brazen naivety of the production (a certain opera director left at the interval, who knows why), but there's only so far the Eastenders-in-corsets verism of most current productions can go. I suspect a more contemporary approach would shatter the delicate magical spell which is this opera's main reward.
Some more production photos:
And some from the curtain call (by intermezzo.typepad.com), which show the gorgeous costumes more clearly:
Here's an amateur video of the production, shot inside the Mariinsky. Not the highest of quality, but the first couple of minutes give a glimpse of the beautiful Mariinsky theatre itself, and the rest includes representative musical snatches:
And here's a pointless musical exercise if ever there was. Flight of the Bumblebee performed on 8 pianos. Culprits include the usual suspect, Lang Lang, but what makes it bizarrely compulsive is that Martha Argerich, Evgeny Kissin, James Levine, Emanuel Ax, Leif Ove Andsnes, Mikhail Pletnev, Staffan Scheja, Nicholas Angelich and Claude Frankare are also implicated:
Yes, it's really true. Someone in Covent Gardenland has seen That Film With Helen Mirren and decided it's about time the Royal Opera House got their collective kit off too.
A 2009 calendar featuring members (hehe) of the ROH in the altogether will be available from the Royal Opera House shop in November.
Promised 'famous and not-so-famous' faces, Carlos Acosta and #2 bassoon are on the wishlist, but we'll probably have to settle for something more like Tony Hall.
And as the calendar has been shot by a chorus 'member' rather than David 'NSFW' McVicar, the mighty organ, skin flute, pink oboe, silent trombone and related operatic equipment will be artistically concealed. Teasers!
MOARRRRR later!
***update*** look here for more details, including photos from the calendar
Dmitri Hvorostovsky / Evgeny Kissin - Barbican, 16 October 2008
Wassiliy Kandinsky: Russian Scene (Sunday)
Dmitri Hvorostovsky's Barbican programme tonight was the same one I heard him perform in Edinburgh a couple of months ago, all from the more distant corners of the Russian repertoire. A not insignificant change of pianist though, with Evgeny Kissin joining him in London. As they stood, bathing in the warm welcome with their blousy black shirts, cheesy grins and curious hairdos, only the presence of the piano indicated that this was a recital not a hairdressing competition.
The all-Tchaikovsky first half was frankly a bit of a disappointment. Hvorostovsky, though good, was not at his best. He looked and sounded anxious and challenged. Straining at the top, parched at the bottom, he approximated the most distant notes. He improved as he went on, but there was no question that this was not the standard we had seen in Edinburgh - though here too there was vigorous applause between all the songs.
Kissin, on the other hand, was a revelation. Often justly criticised for thumping, here he was a sensitive and accomodating partner. And needless to say, he breezed through the many technical challenges. I've long admired his Shostakovich, so perhaps it's the old cliche, Russians play Russian best.
The second half, as in Edinburgh, was shared between Medtner and Rachmaninov. Both demand much virtuoso pianism, a sort of river of shimmering semiquavers that the song line floats serenely above. Again Kissin impressed with his ease and sensitivity.
Hvorostovsky, meanwhile, was transformed, his full, rich, burnished tone back in place, as if the first half was just some bizarre aberration. I don't know, perhaps he was simply holding himself back, storing up ammo for the full second half attack. He moved more freely, he sang more openly, he hit every single note cleanly. And when he sang, we heard Goethe and Pushkin's wonderful poetry and could overlook Medtner's rather derivative settings. Pulling off a few miraculously-sustained final notes turned the audience into putty. And I know that's kind of a cheap trick, but that doesn't mean it's an easy one - it's gobsmackingly impressive in the flesh.
Whatever the sins of the first half, the capacity audience didn't mind, or more likely didn't notice, and two encores were gratefully received.
The first, something I didn't know and didn't quite catch, meant 'Sounds of the Night', and was more of the same. The second, Robert's aria from Tchaikovsky's Iolanta, was the standout of the night, Hvorostovsky sounding totally at home in its simple, direct idiom.
I hadn't appreciated that poor Hvorostovsky was working on his birthday (46 today!) until he was presented with a bouquet and - a Barbican first I think - a birthday balloon.
The English Concert / David Daniels - Queen Elizabeth Hall, 15 October 2008
Bach - Orchestral Suite No.1 in C
Cantata No.170 `Vergnugte Ruh, Beleibte Seelenlust'
Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris from Mass in B minor
Sinfonia from Cantata No.42 `Am Abend desselbigen Sabbats'
Schlummert ein from Cantata No.82 (Ich habe genug)
Erbarme dich mein Gott (St. Matthew Passion)
Handel - Concerto grosso in A, Op.6 No.11
Ombra cara (Radamisto)
Furibondo (Partenope)
Passacaglia from Act 2 of Radamisto
Mad scene from Orlando
Encore: Handel - Qual nave (Radamisto)
I've always found David Daniels reliably superb in opera - even in the rare dodgy production - a consummate actor no less than a singer, whose charisma alone is enough to fill the stage.
His London recitals haven't always had the same impact. While the quality of the voice and the technical accomplishment have never been in doubt, performances have sometimes seemed less than entirely committed.
But taking to the stage with crack baroque ensemble The English Concert for this recital, all that seemed far behind him. He bounded on looking confident alert, happy, totally in charge. The all-Bach first half gained intensity slowly, climaxing with Erbarme dich mein Gott. David Daniels's voice was just as sweet and beautiful as ever, the breath control immaculate, and it's also gained a richness of colours well-suited to his yearning, almost romantic interpretations - no starchy Bach here.
The English Concert had the easy intimacy of a string quartet and a technical mastery to match Daniels. Often in these sort of concerts, the instrumental 'bits' are no more than unwelcome, short-changing fillers, but here they more than held their own.
And they seem to have solved the problem of concert attire more stylishly than many ensembles, extending the usual dreary monochrome palette to allow in any shade that won't show a red wine stain. Daniels himself, immaculately fracked, clearly knows the value of great tailoring.
He was even better in the all-Handel second half, a selection that displayed his full arsenal of talents from elegantly sustained long notes to dazzling coloratura. Again, what he's gained since his last recitals here is the ability to clothe all that technique in the sort of shading and colouring he brings to his operatic performances, to bring his characters to full, scary life, to contain their whole history and their future in those few minutes of song. Especially in the last, recit-heavy selection from Orlando, it felt like wandering into an opera half way through, untamed for the recital platform.
It would be impossible to argue with his formidable pre-show billing: "the world's leading dramatic counter-tenor".
Yay for seasonally inappropriate programming!
Despite being gifted a name like Vlad, Maestro Jurowski and his OAE accomplices will be coaxing the bats from the rafters of the Royal Festival Hall this Halloween with the late-nite sounds of, er ......Swan Lake. Coupled with the equally scary Romeo & Juliet.
Do they not have Halloween in Russia, or wut? Mr Pumpkinhead is not amused, though Mr Tchaikovsky is grateful for the exposure.
For anyone who finds Halloween always a trick and never a treat, the concert is a bargain alternative, with tickets at just £8 for an hour of live music (starting 10pm) plus DJ sets. More and booking details here.
Rusalka - English Touring Opera, Hackney Empire, 10 October 2008
Dvorak's Rusalka seems to be on a roll right now. Grange Park Opera did it this summer, Glyndebourne will tackle it next, and The Beautiful Tonsils of Renee Fleming will be wrapped around it at the Met next spring.
The story of the water nymph who takes on human form to win a prince's love is relocated in English Touring Opera's new production, sung in English, to a bygone Haiti. Divided by colour and class, voodoo spells bring the unhappy couple together before social pressure drives them apart.
It's a neat and thoughtful transposition, and though a few details were puzzling, the fundamentals of the story were clearly spun out on the elegant, pared-down sets.
Equally trimmed, the chamber arrangement naturally sacrifices the sweeping flourish of the full orchestration, but it gains in intimacy.
There was some top-class singing on display - though of course it's odd for an operatic heroine to spend most of her time silenced by a magic spell. The quirkily beautiful Donna Bateman made her speechless pleas just as expressive as her voice, which captured perfectly Rusalka's impenetrable melancholy and wistfulness.
Richard Roberts was beltingly impressive in the technically challenging part of the fickle Prince, and Fiona Kimm's batty voodoo priestess Jezibaba raised the otherwise cool temperature (and also had the best costume, a tangle of swirling braid and jewels).
Keel Watson was sturdy and imposing as Rusalka's water carrier father. As the scheming foreign princess who pries the Prince away from Rusalka, Camilla Roberts had the courage to be thoroughly pompous and dislikeable.
"I think I get opera now" said my companion at the end (this was her third). "Everyone's unhappy and then they die". Yup, that's about it.
Philharmonia Orchestra / Mackerras / Alfred Brendel - Royal Festival Hall, 12 October 2008
On Tuesday Alfred Brendel leaves England via the majestic portal of Basingstoke to commence the final leg of his farewell tour, which winds up in Vienna's Musikverein on 18 December.
Tonight was London's chance to say goodbye as he took to the Royal Festival Hall stage in front of a packed house, the even more senior Sir Charles Mackerras and the Philharmonia Orchestra in tow.
His choice of parting shot, as it will be for that final Vienna concert, was Mozart's Piano Concerto No.9 in E flat, the 'Jeunehomme', the work which perhaps captures the composer's genius most perfectly in its sweeping play of emotional contrasts and invention. Brendel, modest and thoughtful as ever, never sought to impose himself, but gently drew out the sparkling wit of the outer movements and the bleak, bitter core. The Philharmonia were alive to every nuance and contributed to a perfectly-crafted whole.
It was a performance above criticism, a fitting end to a mighty career.
How odd then that it was decided to follow concert convention, and place this work in the first half, with a Dvorak symphony to follow in the second. Perhaps it was simply Brendel's choice, humble to the last.
The Royal Festival Hall's standing ovation for Alfred Brendel:
