Intermezzo

Gergiev's French dances

LSO / Gergiev - Barbican, 18 December 2009

Valery Gergiev's Dutilleux season is a creditable attempt to air some underexposed music, but this performance of the Symphony no.2 for two orchestras did the composer few favours.  Though the positioning of the smaller second orchestra to the right of rather than in front of the main ensemble may have interfered with the spatial effect Dutilleux was after, the first movement was delicately handled. But the pace sagged fatally in the slow second movement and Gergiev never regained momentum.

The two flanking ballets were much more successful, a cinematically-coloured Debussy Jeux just trumping an effervescent if overfinessed Stravinsky Jeu des cartes.   

Ravel opened and closed the programme. Both works demonstrated the limitations of Gergiev's batonless, air-massaging technique. An uncoordinated first bar entry was the first of several to mar his funereally-paced Pavane pour une infante défunte. And Gergiev's psychic powers alone weren't enough to maintain a flowing upward dynamic in the closing Boléro. Instead the LSO lurched unguided from one volume setting to the next, with overpowering saxophone solos striking an unduly brash note. It was all a bit of an unholy mess by the end, winning out only with the sheer exuberance of the playing.

To be broadcast on Radio 3 at 7pm on Monday 21 December.

 

LSO 2010/11 season revealed

My first reaction to the London Symphony Orchestra's 2010/11 Barbican schedule is disappointment that it includes not one opera (unless you count Candide with Kristjan Järvi in June 2011). The LSO's operas in concert have been a real highlight of recent seasons, and I have to suspect that cost is a barrier.

But there are at least a few choral concerts, with Janáček's Glagolitic Mass from Sir Colin in October, Elgar's The Kingdom from Mark Elder in January 2011, and most intriguingly, a screening of Eisenstein's masterpiece Ivan the Terrible accompanied with Prokofiev's score conducted by Xian Zhang in April 2011.

Sir Colin returns with Mitsuko Uchida for a series combining Beethoven's piano concertos with Nielsen's symphonies; this runs from May to December 2011. There's not much else piano-wise, though Lang Lang's attempt on Liszt's first piano concerto in November with Daniel Harding is likely to be a popular draw.

Violinists are the soloists of choice this season, with Viktoria Mullova, Anne-Sophie Mutter, Nikolaj Znaider, Midori, Janine Jansen, Leonidas Kavakos and Julia Fischer between them covering all the big violin concertos.

Valery Gergiev focuses on Tchaikovsky, Mahler, Shostakovich and Shchedrin. Carmen Suite (with which Gergiev opens the season) aside, Shchedrin is underexposed in London, so this is a particularly interesting choice, though the Mahler 9 in March 2011 may prove the popular favourite.

Simon Rattle conducts Bruckner's 9th in March 2011, and Bernard Haitink's two visits in June 2011 include Bruckner's 4th. Other visiting conductors include Intermezzo favourite Andris Nelsons, Antonio Pappano, John Eliot Gardiner and Andre Previn.

Kristjan Järvi's name meanwhile crops up a massive five times - that's more than official guest conductor Daniel Harding or emeritus conductor Sir Colin. Is some sort of official announcement imminent? Do they just really, really like him? Or does he, like the LSO themselves, offer a bulk-booking discount?

Full details expected on LSO and Barbican websites in January, with booking open soon afterwards.

the magic baton of Mr Jansons

Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam /Jansons - Barbican, 12 and 13 December 2009

Last weekend's flying Concertgebouw visit packed in two concerts in less than 24 hours. The better of the pair was Sunday afternoon's Mahler 2.

Mariss Jansons had me gripped right from the hovering, shimmering strings of the first bar. There's something magical, almost mystical about the way he balances architecture against details, form against texture, head against heart. I never felt any aspect of the music was being sacrificed in pursuit of insights elsewhere. His path was secure, unerring, and in a work that tempts theatrics from even the best, ultimately truthful. His music is the sort that doesn't need to shout to be heard. Quite overwhelming.

Saturday night's concert was more fragmented and ultimately less satisfying. The glowing strings, warm brass and sonorous woodwinds of the Concertgebouw are pretty much a given, so no complaints on that score. But where Jansons's restraint in the Mahler was revelatory, in Saturday's Brahms 4 it seemed more like a brake. There was an abundance of elegant craft, but I found myself longing for the do-or-die passion of Rattle, Barenboim (on a good day) or even Daniel Harding.

Smetana's Bartered Bride overture was energetic but inherently throwaway, and Martinu's Double Concerto for Two String Orchestras, Piano and Timpani I simply don't care for, never have, sorry. In some ways, the encores, a Dvorak Slavonic Dance and Brahms Hungarian Dance were the most effective elements of the evening.

Perhaps my diminished enthusiasm has something to do with the seating though. I was, unusually, sitting in the balcony, where the view is perfect and the sound exquisitely blended. But the famously dry acoustic of the Barbican is a thousand times more apparent here than downstairs. The seats are fairly priced (a positive bargain in fact) to take account of tthe problem, but it's an economy I shan't make again in a hurry.

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Otello stile inglese

Otello - LSO / Davis - Barbican, 3 December 2009

You sneeze, you lose. With Torsten Kerl off sick, the pages of lastminutetenor.com yielded Simon O'Neill. Not the most obvious choice of Otello, even for a concert performance like this one. Indeed you could scour the big Wagnerian's resume and find no mention of Verdi whatsoever. But his bright, hard edged voice proved an excellent fit, and his unfamiliarity with the score was barely noticeable. Now that the role is associated more with darker baritonal tenors like Domingo, the clarity and ease of O'Neill's thrilling top notes hinted at a long-gone golden age. The short-fused Moor's temper flashes perhaps didn't spark quickly enough, but it was impossible not to be moved by Otello's final agonised moments.

The rest of the casting was just as brave, and nearly as successful. The only authentic Italian in the cast was Eufemia Tufano, an understated Emilia. Desdemona's purity and incorruptibility were perfectly evoked in the unearthly silvery soprano of Anne Schwanewilms, even if her delivery was some distance north of Italianate. The London Symphony Chorus trumped her for sheer incomprehensibility though - I didn't catch one single word of their spirited singing all night.

Gerald Finley's intelligently drawn Iago schemed with devious charm. But ultimately he lacks the fundamental heft for this role, as even a golden voice spinning meticulously-crafted phrases cannot conceal. Bantamweight tenors Allan Clayton and Ben Johnson were effective as Cassio and Roderigo, and a trio of magnificent basses - Alexander Tsymbalyuk, Matthew Rose and Lukas Jakobski - rounded off the ensemble. 

Sir Colin Davis, we were informed before the concert, has just been awarded the Queen's Medal for Music. Typically, he was keener to get on with the show than acknowledge the predictable ovation. His hard-driven first act lacked a degree of dramatic nuance - when everything's loud, fast and exciting, perversely, nothing is. But with the excess fuel burned off, a more measured approach proved infinitely more compelling. The second half in particular simmered and glowed, sweeping into blazing climaxes, yet eggshell-delicate beneath Desdemona's beautiful Willow Song. A rapturous intensity revealed so many details I'd never noticed before.

A recording will be stitched together from this performance and the repeat on 6 December. Not a purist's Otello perhaps but a vivid reminder that at 82, Sir Colin Davis is still on top of his game.

 

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air kiss FAIL

Anne Schwanewilms (Desdemona) and Eufemia Tufano (Emilia) fail to lock face after last night's superb Otello at the Barbican (of which more later):

but at least they're talking:

What's on in London in December

The Royal Opera House will be hoping for a Xmas tingle in the cash registers as they dust off a selection of tried and tested offerings for the festive season. First up are the faded charms of Der Rosenkavalier, tinselled up for its omgyetanother revival with Soile Isokoski, Sophie Koch and Lucy Crowe. Kirill Petrenko conducts.

The syrup-drenched and even more ancient La bohème returns with luxuriously-costumed operatubbies pleading unconvincing poverty beneath its spacious mansards. Andris Nelsons, Paul Wynne Griffiths and Maurizio Benini conduct, though not at the same time, and the mix'n'match casts include Piotr Beczala, Hibla Gerzmava and Rebecca Evans amongst many, many others.

More appealing, and certainly cheaper, might be the child-friendly Enchanted Pig in the Linbury Studio, complete with starring swine flu survivor.

Otherwise it's a ballet-heavy month at Covent Garden. So where have all the singers gone? Wigmore Hall's December line up includes recitals by Christine Brewer, Christian Gerhaher, Bejun Mehta, Patricia Rosario, Sergei Leiferkus, Ewa Podles and on 22 December Julius Drake's 50th birthday concert features Sophie Daneman, Alice Coote, Joyce Didonato, Derek Lee Ragin, Ian Bostridge, Mark Padmore, Gerald Finley and Christopher Maltman. Not bad.

ENO meanwhile lumber on with their limp Messiah and ghastly Turandot before surrendering the premises to ballet for the next few months. If curiosity can't keep you away, don't pay more than £20 for a ticket.

The most promising of many competing Messiahs looks to be the Barbican's 9 December offering with the English Concert conducted by Harry Bicket and featuring Lucy Crowe, Patricia Bardon, Allan Clayton and James Rutherford.

Also at the Barbican (on 3 and 6 December) is Sir Colin Davis's eagerly-awaited concert version of Verdi's Otello with Torsten Kerl, Gerald Finley, Allan Clayton and Anne Schwanewilms. 

Birmingham Opera Company's version offers an alternative Othello for anyone willing to make the trip. With a reduced orchestra and mostly local singers, it promises an interactive experience as cast and audience are manoeuvred around a Birmingham warehouse. (The BBC's Culture Show on 3 December will delve further).

At Kings Place, the Classical Opera Company (of recent Artaxerxes fame) celebrate Handel in Italy with a selection of his vocal music including Il trionfo del Tempo e del Disinganno on 3 and 5 December.

And the following week, Transition_Projects take over King's Place for a series of recitals under the heading Darkness and Light. Soprano Claire Booth features in several - a highlight should be her Pierrot Lunaire (left) with accompanying video on 11 December.

At the cinema, La Scala's prima, which is Carmen featuring Jonas Kaufmann, will be broadcast live to Covent Garden Odeon on 7 December. And Contes d'Hoffmann comes live from the Met on 19 December - at the time of writing the BFI IMAX still has tickets.

never mind the bollocks here's Cecilia Bartoli

Sacrificium - Cecilia Bartoli / Il Giardino Armonico - Barbican, 24 November 2009

Cecilia Bartoli's annual trip to the Barbican was this year tied in with her new CD of rare castrato arias, Sacrificium. Fortunately she didn't try and replicate the cover look (does she regrette rien, I wonder).

Instead, with Il Giardino Armonico's sprightly strings sawing away behind her, she sprang on mid-intro in full highwayman gear - well it is panto season - and launched into straight into a fearsome stretch of trademark coloratura like a runaway sewing machine, thigh boots planted manfully, cloak swirling behind her. A layer came off each couple of songs until she was left standing in nothing but shirt, boots and leggings. Then it was time for a costume change - a golden frock with its red skirts hitched up to show the man-pants still in place.

Last year she was so confident in the power of her bel canto offerings, she didn't even bother to buy a new frock, sporting the same one as the year before.

Were this year's theatrics a tacit acknowledgement that the material on the new CD is less strong than her previous offerings? A selection of display arias by Handel's less talented contemporaries, their original purpose was to showcase the talents of the greatest castratos - rapid coloratura, trills, long-breathed phrases, messa di voce and so on. In the writing at least, the art took second place to the craft. When la Ceci gave us Handel's simple yet touchingly lovely Lascia la Spina as an encore, the difference between sound workmanship and true genius was made painfully obvious.

Nevertheless, she gave the flawed offerings her considerable all, and as a display of her skills it was hard to fault.  Fantastic breath control and agility are combined with unmatched warmth and expressiveness. Once or twice the tuning went awry in the faster passages, but it hardly mattered. A tendency to close her eyes and shut out the audience in the slower arias was more of a problem than it might have been with stronger material. In the faster ones, the exhilarating vocal gymnastics and Bartoli's sheer exuberance were enough disguise for any lack of inspiration in the writing. No-one can match her for commitment to her material, nor for the passion she puts into every note. But I was pleased to see from the programme that her next project is the considerably more worthy Giulio Cesare.

After the short-change divas of the South Bank, it's worth pointing out that there were two full hours of music, at least half of it (probably more like three quarters) featuring the headline singer - and the tickets were cheaper, too.

Say what you like about Cecilia Bartoli, she knows her audience, she knows exactly what they expect, and she gives it to them time after time.

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Dido muscles up

Dido & Aeneas - Les Arts Florissants / Christie Barbican, 10 October 2009

The blonde with the bulging biceps may look like a former DDR swim champ, but actually she is Malena Ernman, Sweden's Eurovision princess (yus really!) and Queen of Carthage for one night at the Barbican.

She won't be taking Sarah Connolly's crown any time soon though. Her Dido, in fact the show as a whole, was too tongue-in-cheek for that. But the semi-staged semi-spectacular, mimed out in evening dress with the mini-orchestra behind, sweetly hit a spot due south of pious reverence without ever getting too silly.

This was an adaptation of a fully staged version that William Christie and his Arts Florissants have been touting around Europe. Practice has made perfect. The remarkable chorus were precise and expressive despite being out of conducting view - proof that a clear beat is not everything. And their immaculate yet not over-clipped diction (even more impressive considering most of them are Frenchies) would put British choruses to shame.

In contrast to the Royal Opera House's patchy recent offering, there were no weak links in the cast. Even the token bloke, Luca Pisaroni as Aeneas, made the most of his none too ingratiating part. Judith Van Wanroij was a charmingly spirited and pure-voiced Belinda, and Hilary Summers' shockingly deep, dark voice compensated for an oversized helping of ham as the Sorceress.

Best of all was the musical accompaniment. Full of surprising little touches, like a solo guitar and a birdsong chorus (from the human chorus), it never slipped back into routine.

A small complaint - charging normal full price for barely an hour of music was I thought a bit cheeky (and by the way - though some bloggers were offered free tickets to the show and rehearsal, I was not one of them. All complimenti herein are made entirely at my own expense).

 

Radu Lupu comes out to play

London Symphony Orchestra / Colin Davis / Radu Lupu - Barbican, 1 October 2009

Radu Lupu is one of those rare pianists who can be identified from a mere handful of notes. His distinctive soft-edged sound is like a cat padding across velvet. Even the Barbican's big brash Steinway succumbed to his caressing touch. Leaning back on his sawn-off typing chair, he paws the keyboard from arm's length, as if the exquisite pain of proximity would be just too much to bear. His serene and introspective reading of Mozart's Piano Concerto No 20 was barely grazed by a few uncharacteristic fluffs in the second movement. Even the brilliant cadenzas gave no hint of testing his limits - every note remained considered and duly weighted. Sir Colin Davis proved an empathetic collaborator. Glances and gestures were frequently exchanged, the LSO playing with a rare delicacy.

There was more Mozart to begin the evening, a splendidly full-bodied Symphony No 34. Sir Colin has no truck with period practice or chocolate-box prettiness - this was meat-and-potatoes Mozart, open-hearted and muscular in execution. How different from the anaemic perfection of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and their Jupiter Symphony last week.  

I hadn't quite appreciated the logic of the programming before the concert, but the martial flair of the Mozart complemented the evening's big symphony, Nielsen's brooding, battling Fifth. The LSO played brilliantly all round, relishing in the extremes of mood and dynamics, and Sir Colin sculpted its peculiar episodic structure into compelling narrative.

Amazingly, this was the first time Sir Colin had conducted it - evidence of just how far Nielsen's star is rising right now. It might be going a bit far to proclaim him the next Mahler, as some have, but there has to be more space on the schedules for music with this kind of immediacy and broad appeal. The LSO clearly think so - Sir Colin will be tackling all six symphonies this year, all to be recorded for future release.

  

 

La damnation de Gergiev

La Damnation de Faust - LSO / Gergiev - Barbican 22 September 2009

A curious evening that caught fire intermittently, but never really took off. Gergiev’s preferred preapration method – rehearse the corners, wing the straights - can produce stunning results in slow-burn symphonies. But it’s fundamentally unsuited to the desperately shoehorned ragbag of ideas (“Let's all improvise a fugue!”) that is La damnation de Faust. Faust’s final ride to the abyss truly burnt with the flames of hell, but a few manicured details aside, the first half was largely directionless and often surprisingly (for Gergiev) tentative. All the beauty and delicacy of the woodwind playing couldn’t compensate for a lack of purpose.

The problems could have been compounded when the scheduled Méphistophélès, Thomas Quasthoff, pulled out due to illness on the morning of the show. But Willard White, flown in from Copenhagen, was a magnificent replacement, despite the twinkle in his eye warning his bluster and beguilements shouldn’t be taken too seriously.

Joyce DiDonato, in a gorgeous cornflower gown and tumbling curls, sang beautifully but seemed not entirely at home in the Berlioz idiom. Her Marguerite had the radiant purity of youth but not the ardour that Susan Graham can bring to the part.

Florian Boesch almost stole the show as Brander, but Michael Schade’s Faust was a disappointment. He placed notes accurately and words carefully in his none too intelligible French, but his hard nasal tone is too unvarying and too unyielding in this part. What a pity there was so much of it. The London Symphony Chorus too had a long and tricky sing. They managed heroically, if with more gusto than finesse - for which Gergiev’s flutterfingered non-beat was not entirely to blame.

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David Daniels mixes it up

David Daniels / Academy of St Martin in the Fields - Barbican, 19 September 2009

Handel Arrival of the Queen of Sheba (from Solomon)   Nico Muhly Vocalise on Al lampo dell’ armi    John Tavener Little Reliquary for G.F.H .    Handel Overture to Serse   Michael Nyman Ombra mai fu   Handel Perfido, di a quell'empio tiranno (from Radamisto)   Handel Sinfonia (Largo) Pompe vane di morte! (from Rodelinda)   Craig Armstrong Themes and Variations on Adagio e Staccato from Water Music    Handel Overture to Saul   Nico Muhly Oh Lord whose mercies numberless   Jocelyn Pook Sing Sing music was given   Handel Aria - Vivi tiranno (from Rodelinda)

Everyone's favourite hairy beary countertenor David Daniels and the Academy of St Martin in the Fields proved tonight that not all Handel arias sound the same. Especially after they've been jiggled around by a bunch of contemporary composers (with a few originals thrown in for comparison) in the Handel Remixed project, part of the 250th anniversary celebrations. 

Dodgy black tie/black shirt combo aside, David Daniels looked remarkably trim and refreshed - has he been supping from the same fountain of youth as Renee Fleming? Can't be the English weather.

Anyway, first remix up was Nico Muhly's wordless Vocalise on Al lampo dell’ armi. Much as it seems a waste to ignore David Daniels' extraordinary gift for expressing text, its stripped down textures, alternately reminiscent of Philip Glass and a jar of wasps, made one of the more interesting pieces of the evening. In Muhly's second contribution, Oh Lord whose mercies numberless, layered instruments repeated a simple figure at varying slow speeds in a lush, washy fugue.

John Tavener provided a hymn-like setting for a few lines from Solomon, and Michael Nyman orchestrated Ombra mai fu to a new tune in his trademark pared-down style, parts moving mainly in unison on the same note (the original cropped up for comparison as an encore). Craig Armstrong took his musical inspiration from Water Music and dabbed on some words from Don't Leave Me This Way (yes that one). I wondered whether the composers had been told who would be singing - a lot was written in a range too low to flatter any countertenor.

The only composer to give David Daniels time off was Jocelyn Pook. Her instrumental was the contribution most loosely sourced on its original (Oh Lord whose mercies numberless again) but its neatly intertwined melodies made it perhaps the most Handelian in spirit - so pretty in fact I'm not sure if it was intended to be ironic.

However gamely David Daniels tackled the new stuff, there's no question he was more at home with the three Handel originals. Despite the inflexibility of Harry Christophers' accompaniment, Bertarido's arias from Rodelinda had a spirit and emotional range that Handel's mixers just couldn't match.

What's on in London in September

Summer is nearly over, and at last the concert calendar is filling up.

Proms and alternatives
The Proms seem to have gone on forever, but it'll all be over for another year on 12 September.

Remaining highlights include Mariss Jansons with the Concertgebouw, Riccardo Chailly with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, and the Vienna Philharmonic with Zubin Mehta and Franz Welser-Möst (replacing the scheduled Harnoncourt).

On 4 September there's an unmissable double header - first Matthias Goerne and the Gustav Mahler Jugendorchester in Mahler, Ligeti, Schoenberg and Strauss, then a late-night George Crumb special.

Incidentally, operatic highlights for the 2010 Proms - you heard it here first - are expected to include Die Meistersinger with Bryn Terfel, Glyndebourne's Don Giovanni, and a substantial chunk of Tristan und Isolde from the Orchestra of the 18th Century with Ben Heppner.

If you want to skip the ghastliness of the last night - something I cannot recommend too highly - alternatives include the Wigmore Hall season opener which is Die schöne Müllerin from Mark Padmore and Paul Lewis.

Or there's a FREE screening of the 1929 silent movie Piccadilly on an outside wall (don't blame me if it rains) of the Royal Festival Hall accompanied by a new score from composers Suki Mok and Ruth Chan. Following the screening, the score "will become the lynchpin of a cross-artform work incorporating dance, drama and video against a backdrop of the original silent movie".

Opera
The Royal Opera House season opens on 7 September with two concert performances of Donizetti's Linda di Chamounix conducted by Mark Elder and featuring Alessandro Corbelli alongside the hotly-tipped Eglise Gutiérrez and Stephen Costello.

Don Carlo has started rehearsals and promises to turn out even better than first time round. Semyon Bychkov conducts, Jonas Kaufmann is in the title role, and the rest of the cast is much the same as it was first time round, with Marina Poplavskaya, Simon Keenlyside and Ferruccio Furlanetto reprising his definitive Philip.

Don't expect much on stage except the singers in born-again minimalist Christof Loy's new production of Tristan und Isolde. Tristan is Ben Heppner and Isolde Nina Stemme, with Matti Salminen, Michael Volle and Sophie Koch completing the cast. Pappano conducts.

English National Opera's season opens with the much-travelled, highly-praised production of Ligeti's Le Grand Macabre by La Fura dels Baus.

The Arcola Theatre's variable but occasionally brilliant (and cheap) Grimeborn opera festival continues until 5 September. Handel, Poulenc and Mozart are included amongst the mostly contemporary works.

There's an opportunity to hear Rossini's rarely-performed Il Signor Bruschino and La Scala di Seta as well as The Rake's Progress from British Youth Opera between 4 and 12 September.

And Valery Gergiev conducts the LSO in a concert performance of La Damnation de Faust on 22 September, with a cast including Joyce DiDonato, Michael Schade, Thomas Quasthoff and Florian Boesch.

Concerts
The LSO's season opener is on 20 September, with Gergiev conducting Debussy, Dutilleux and Ravel.

At the Royal Festival Hall, Bernard Haitink conducts the Chicago Symphony Orchestra on 23 and 24 September. And on 25 and 26 September Vladimir Jurowski and the LPO tackle Mahler's 2nd Symphony. Anne Sofie von Otter visits on 30 September with songs from her Theresienstadt CD.

At Wigmore Hall, Matthias Goerne continues his Schubert marathon on 18 and 20 September (a different programme on each night).

And on 28 September it's Imogen Cooper's bus-pass birthday concert. She'll be joined by Wolfgang Holzmair, Mark Padmore, Sonia Wieder-Atherton and Paul Lewis.

Die Dreigroschenoper at the Barbican

Die Dreigroschenoper - Barbican, 13 June 2009


Ian Bostridge and Cora Burggraaf

The original performers of Weill and Brecht's Die Dreigroschenoper were singing actors, not trained opera singers. And a seven-man band rather than an orchestra supplied the music. The name of course suggests it's an opera, but it has elements that owe more to musical theatre. Lengthy spoken sections (here replaced by a spoken narration that Brecht wrote specifically for concert performances) largely drive the action. And the vocal line is often simply doubled by an instrument.

It's not surprising a variety of performing traditions have arisen, with a mannered cabaret style at one end, a traditional operatic rendition at the other, and the more successful attempts generally falling somewhere in the middle.

Some time ago conductor HK Gruber recorded a version which approaches the spirit if not the specific textures of the original, incorporating his own chansonnier vocals, nostalgia singer Max Raabe, the frankly shouty punk legend Nina Hagen and the crack contemporary music ensemble Klangforum Wien. He brought them to the Barbican, and he again played Peachum in his own inimitable style, but this time he roped in opera stars for the rest.

Dorothea Röschmann, Angelika Kirchschlager and Hannah Schwarz

Some took to it better than others. Angelika Kirchschlager for one. She threw out the rulebook and played Jenny with her tongue in her cheek and a dollop of sauce. Polly Peachum's essential vulgarity was subdued beneath Dorothea Röschmann's elegant lieder technique but she displayed wit and superb comic timing in her spat with Cora Burggraaf's equally sophisticated Lucy Brown.

Ian Bostridge's Macheath was simply bizarre. London's most ruthless, dangerous criminal?  More like Basil Fawlty finding a fly in his soup. Angelika Kirchschlager looked as if she could eat him for breakfast, and in an encore of the Tango Ballad, proved she could.

Other parts were well taken. Hannah Schwarz's powerful Wagnerian mezzo gave her Mrs Peachum some heft, and Florian Boesch's Tiger Brown was idiomatic without being over the top.

HK Gruber himself was the least technically accomplished singer by far, but the one who seemed most at home in his role. He even managed to conduct Klangforum Wien after a fashion while he sang. I'm not sure I'd want to hear the whole thing sung HK style, but with the bandoneon, banjo and saxophones behind him, it made perfect sense.

 

 

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Evgeny Kissin's Barbican bash

Evgeny Kissin  - Barbican, 5 June 2009

Prokofiev 3 Pieces from Romeo and Juliet - Juliet, Mercutio, Montagues and Capulets; Sonata No 8
Chopin Polonaise-Fantasie;  Mazurkas Op 30 No 4, Op 41 No 4 and Op 59 No 1; Études Op 10 Nos 1,2,3,4 and 12, Op 25 Nos 5,6 and 11.
Encores: Chopin Nocturne Op 27 No 2; Prokofiev 4 Pieces Op 4 No 4; Schubert arr.Liszt Soirées de Vienne Valse-Caprice No 6 

Evgeny Kissin's forthright, pugilistic pianism and Russian heritage ought to make him the perfect Prokofiev interpreter. But for all his technical fluency, stamina and precision articulation there was a wearying air of bash-by-numbers about his Friday night performance at the Barbican. His Romeo and Juliet selection lacked the rich colouring of their orchestral counterpart; the 'War' Sonata was dutifully accurate, but little more. Never mind - the capacity audience, expanded by several rows on the platform, whooped and hollered anyway.

Kissin's introspective exhibitionism found a more satisfying outlet in Chopin. His Polonaise-Fantasie was unduly mechanical. But his loud Mazurkas were crisply turned, and a firework display of the flashiest Études drew out surprisingly subtleties.

But it was only the last of his three encores, a Schubert/Liszt Valse-Caprice of almost huggable charm, that showed there's more to Kissin than brain and fingers.

Moondog music at the Barbican

The Music of Moondog - Barbican, 30 May 2009

What has provoked the recent outbreak of male menopausal grumpiness in the nation's press? Could it be the warm weather?

First the Telegraph's Rupert Christiansen had a go at opera-loving kids, who, lured by the offer of 1,200 free children's tickets, are apparently "dragged along by their well-intentioned parents" to Opera Holland Park, thus depriving grouchy middle aged men of their rightful seats in the stalls. Rupert, who perhaps skipped GCSE maths in his own distant youth, may have neglected to calculate that 1,200 freebies spread out over 45 shows (generous though it is) averages a mere 27 unwanted children per performance - barely earth-shattering.

And now the FT's Andrew Clark accuses classical music itself of "trying to be fashionable, relevant to the internet generation*". "Should we be alarmed?" he asks "Will everything we value and respect start to crumble?" "Is there a vacancy at the Daily Mail?"

(*a clever FT code for 'young people')

Both might have been even further peeved by Saturday night at the Barbican. A distinctly youngish audience sat in respectful silence while the Britten Sinfonia played their hearts out for over an hour of orchestral music. And as soon as the music stopped they applauded every note heartily.

OK, so the music of Moondog, with its jazz, folk and street sound influences, barely scrapes under the heading 'classical', but it's as good as any other label. Moondog's own description was "the art of concealing art: maximum effect but with minimum means".

It has to be said though that some of the means were rather too minimum to sustain interest over a full work. I'm thinking particularly of the Salzburg Symphony (one of over 800 symphonies Moondog wrote), a charming but exceedingly slight pop Mozart pastiche here given its world premiere. But the crisp educational beats of the opening Moondog Theme, the hillbilly Bach of Chaconne in G major and the twinkling Marimba Mondo made up for it.

And that was just the second half. The massed saxophones of London Saxophonic, joined by some excellent percussionists, filled most of the first with some of Moondog's joyful, upbeat brass compositions. An all-too-brief piano solo from Liam Noble was welcome, the protracted stage reset that preceded Clinic's two short rock numbers less so.

Some videos with original Moondog recordings - all of these were performed (in different arrangements) by the Britten Sinfonia:

Moondog'sTheme

Bird's Lament

Viking 1/Marimba Mondo

Chaconne in G major

Arianna in Creta in London

Arianna in Creta - Academy of Ancient Music / Hogwood - Barbican, 17 May 2009

Two three hour Handel operas in London in one day. Arianna in Creta at the Barbican began just an hour after Zurich Opera's excellent Agrippina ended at the Royal Festival Hall. Neither was anything like full. Why can't venues check each other's diaries?  I'm sure plenty of people picked just one because they didn't have the iron constitution for both. Despite my best intentions, I was wilting before this one even started.

Christopher Hogwood is a more fastidious observer of the exactitudes of historical performance than Monsieur Minkowski. My heart sank at the sight of his natural horns. And it was to prove an astringent reading, probably better appreciated by fresher ears than mine. The splayed notes of the horns aside, it was hard to fault the playing. But Mr Handel was sparing with his tunes in this one and Mr Hogwood is not the sort to pop in a dab of Chopin to jolly things up. Despite the latent dramatic potential of the Theseus and the Minotaur storyline, many stretches proved less than engrossing. It was wonderful to have the rare opportunity to experience a live performance, but I wasn't too surprised to find this was its first UK airing for many years.

The singing though was of almost uniformly high quality, even if with most noses buried in scores it wasn't always as communicative as it might have been.

Filling in for the sick Angelika Kirchschlager as Teseo was Kristina Hammarström, who leapt from note to note with tremendous agility, but remained a little laid back for a monster-slaying hero. The silvery bloom of Miah Persson's soprano enchanted in the title role. Lisa Milne made a bold and assertive Alceste, confidently delivered, and Sonia Prina showcased the most energetic coloratura of the evening in her feisty Carilda. A few wobbly moments from the lone bass were the only intrusion.

If only I'd had a less Handel-packed day, I'm sure I would have appreciated it all more.

 

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Purcell a la francaise

Purcell's King Arthur - Hervé Niquet / Le Concert Spirituel - Barbican, 6 May 2009

I am not as a rule too fond of Purcell's operas, but how can you resist one that features a character with the X-Men-esque name of Cold Genius?

Thanks partly to a well thought-out semi-staging (a distillation of a full staging the ensemble have performed elsewhere), this presentation was considerably less po-faced and reverential than some. The Cold Genius and Cold Chorus wrapped themselves up in woolly hats and scarves - as did the conductor - to be thawed out by the warmth of Cupid's love and Purcell's startlingly avant garde chromatic programme music. And the final act's peasant chorus and harvest celebration was delivered in convincing Zummerzet accents - even by the (French) chorus.

With its copious spoken dialogue relegated to a brief summary in the programme on the eminently sensible grounds that people come to a concert to hear music, it was concise and snappy too. The evening just sped along.

What the Frenchies of Hervé Niquet's period ensemble Le Concert Spirituel lacked in finesse, they made up for in spirit and enthusiasm. Even more impressive than the instrumentalists were the chorus, whose English pronunciation was crisp and faultless. Niquet himself doesn't so much conduct as mime the action like a bonkers Marcel Marceau, carrying all along with him.

The multi-parted soloists Susan Gritton, Anders Dahlin, James Gilchrist, Andrew Foster-Williams and Deborah York were all more than capable - though like the band their enthusiasm left a few rough edges in its wake. Gilchrist and Foster-Williams made their mark with strong characterisations in the comic roles of Comus and Cold Genius. These ultimately had more impact than the limpid charms of the supposed soprano show-stopper, Fairest isle - a reflection of Niquet's mischievous flair for making this 300 year old music speak to a modern audience.

 

 

What's on in London in May

There's always plenty on in London musically speaking, but May looks particularly busy.

For starters, at the Royal Opera House, Diana Damrau and Giuseppe Filianoti take a roll in the hay for the first revival of Laurent Pelly's L'elisir d'amore. Il trovatore and Lohengrin are still around too.

At the ENO, David Alden's hotly-anticipated new Peter Grimes opens. Stuart Skelton, Amanda Roocroft, Gerald Finley and Felicity Palmer sing, Edward Gardner conducts. The second new production of the month is film director Abbas Kiarostami's first venture into opera, Così fan tutte.

Purcell's King Arthur is performed in concert at the Barbican on 6 May by Le Concert Spirituel. There are limited *free* tickets for under-26's for this one (check out the freeB link on the Barbican site).

17 May is Handel-fest day. Christopher Hogwood's Academy of Ancient Music bring Arianna in Creta to the Barbican. Miah Persson, Lisa Milne and Sonia Prina appear as originally scheduled, but Kristina Hammarström replaces the previously-announced Angelika Kirchschlager.

The performance starts at 6.30pm, so there should be (just) enough time to get there from Zurich Opera's Agrippina, which begins at 2pm in the Royal Festival Hall. The impressive cast joining Marc Minkowski and Zurich Opera's specialist period ensemble, Orchestra La Scintilla, includes Vesselina Kasarova, Eva Liebau, Marijana Mijanovic and Anna Bonitatibus.

The other operatic event worth mentioning is not in London at all, but in Manchester.  Over two nights, 9 and 10 May, Mark Elder and the Hallé Orchestra perform Götterdämmerung in concert at the Bridgewater Hall, with Katarina Dalayman as Brünnhilde. If this was in London, tickets would go in a flash, but there are still plenty of seats available.  Manchester is clearly a harder sell. It rather underlines the folly of the Royal Opera House's plans to create a Mancunian outpost. Northern opera lovers may be dedicated - there just aren't a lot of them.

On 31 May, Rene Pape joins Vladimir Jurowski and the LPO at the Royal Festival Hall for the UK premiere of Torsten Rasch's 2003 song cycle Mein Herz brennt. This is (loosely) based on the music of headbanging German industrial metallers Rammstein - a fact the Southbank promo guff intriguingly fails to mention. Not as scary as it sounds though, as the source material is engulfed by Jurowski's favoured big-boned retro-nouveau Eastern bloc neo-romanticism (or Vladcore for short).

On a smaller scale, there are lots of recitals this month, including the big one, Anna Netrebko and Dmitri Hvorostovsky at the Royal Festival Hall on 19 May.

At Wigmore Hall Kate Royal sings Schumann and Brahms on 7 May, and there's a solo recital from the great Jordi Savall the day after. On 19 May (the same date as Netrebko/Hvorostovsky unfortunately) Mojca Erdmann, Christian Gerhaher and Gerold Huber tackle Wolf's Italienisches Liederbuch. The Wigmore's busy Haydn weekend begins on 29 May with an András Schiff lecture recital at 2pm.

And there are a few more Wigmore day time events worth mentioning. On 12 May at 2pm there's a *free* recital of Kurtag and Schubert by Jonathan Biss, which will be recorded for the Wigmore's own label. On 18 May at 1pm Anne Schwanewilms sings Debussy, Strauss and Wolf, and on 25 May at 1pm Ingrid Fliter plays Chopin and Schumann.

Philip Glass makes a rare appearance at the Barbican on 26 May for an evening of chamber music.

The fabulous Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain plink and twang at the Cadogan Hall on 5 May.

One of the most intriguing events of the month is a Barbican concert on 30 May. Various artists including the Britten Sinfonia perform the Music of Moondog , and there are companion pre, post and interval events, including an 11.30pm concert at St Giles Cripplegate, Moondog Around Midnight .

Lang Lang, Daniel Harding and a bunch of LSOERS

London Symphony Orchestra / Tan Dun / Daniel Harding / Lang Lang - Barbican, 21 April 2009 

The most famous symphony in the world right now, Tan Dun's five minute Internet Symphony 'Eroica' was more impressive live in the Barbican than on the inevitably tinny YouTube video. But, frantic yet curiously numbing, it still sounds more like a theme tune for a Saturday night footie programme than a groundbreaking work of art.  The LSO, faces like small children confronted with steaming brussels sprouts, despatched it efficiently, though with manifestly less enthusiasm than the conductor/composer himself. The whole YouTube orchestra project of which this is the centrepiece has done a brilliant job of promoting classical music on YouTube. In that respect, it's a massive success. But please can we leave it out of the concert hall now?

The capacity audience seemed to like it. But not half as much as the entrance of the man who for many was the evening's main attraction - Lang Lang - here to give the UK premiere of the piano concerto Tan Dun composed specially for him. It's a more serious work than the Internet Symphony, both in length - thirty minutes - and intent, but again there's much in it that's superficial and derivative.

The piano is very much centre stage throughout, but surprisingly (considering Lang Lang's virtuosity), there's little flashiness in the writing. The key recurring motif is a single note, repeated at rattlesnake speed using alternating fingers. Sounds easy, is hard. Incredibly so when articulated with Lang Lang's clarity and evenness. Stealth flash. But not exactly 'pianistic'. Some attractive moments of Ravelian introspection aside, that's what I felt about a lot of the piano writing in this piece. Tan Dun wasn't so much exploring the instrument's sonorities as wishing it were something else. A drum perhaps, or sometimes a harp. Lang Lang's heart didn't seem to be quite in it, and I couldn't blame him.

Percussion, both tuned and whacked, features as strongly as the piano. It lends a little Chinese flavour but the overall effect is more pot noodle than chow mein. What really killed the work for me though was its rambling, episodic structure (or lack of) - it's a side dish to an invisible movie in the  Crouching Tiger mould. Background music.

Daniel Harding - looking in action ever more like a pocket-sized Rob Brydon - was drafted in to restore normality for the second half with Mahler's First Symphony. A fair few of the audience had scooted off in the interval, their musical appetites sated. They missed a great performance. Harding had the measure of the detail, without resorting to empty, over-emphatic gesture. The opening shiver of strings, immaculately controlled, was just the first indication of his detailed preparation. The first movement's offstage brass were perfectly balanced and wind solos assertive but not overbearing.

The odd positioning of the basses - behind and beneath the first violins - seemed to me his only misjudgement (though for all I know he was following Mahler's instruction). Sitting centre stalls, I simply couldn't hear them very well. It was certainly Mahler's idea (at one point) for the usual solo bass introduction to the third movement to be augmented by the whole section - another change that didn't work for me, losing the sinister directness of the solo alternative. The tragic and grotesque edges of this movement weren't quite sharply focussed, but that may be preferable to Gergiev's idiosyncratic extremes.

An explosive finale pushed the volume limits, but never quite teetered out of control. The recollection of the opening string shimmer and horn call lent a neat symmetry. Once again, Harding followed a composer instruction, this time for the horns to stand up - though I'm not sure this added anything but novelty value on this particular occasion. But overall , a measured and satisfying account.

LSO play Symphony No. 1 "Eroica" - for YouTube, conducted by Tan Dun:

Scuse me Madge, your slip is showing - Julietta at the Barbican

Juliette (/Julietta) - BBCSO / Bělohlávek - Barbican, 27 June 2009

Oh Magdalena, Magdalena. How can such a naturally stunning beauty as Magdalena Kožena get it so consistently wrong? The organisers probably thought they'd covered all bases. Hair professionally curled and pinned, flattering barely-there makeup, diaphanous floral gown. In the semi-staged semi-darkness she embodied the fragile, elusive Julietta, who captivates the hero Michel with her haunting aria.

Then she stepped forward into the spotlight.

And 2,000 people saw her underwear.

Let me put it this way. If you're wearing a see-through dress, you need a slip that starts at the same place as the transparent fabric does. In this case, the bust. Not six inches below. If she'd hoicked her slip up and pinned it in place, we'd have been none the wiser. Instead, we were mesmerised by the sort of long white undergarment that might shield nuns' nun-bits from their habits. Oh dear. So near and yet.....

Like Julietta's composer and its original libretto, Magdalena is, of course, Czech. But a golden opportunity was skipped here in favour of premiering Martinů's own recently-rediscovered French translation - making the title, more correctly, Juliette.

Besides offering a world first, and probably allowing more of the audience to appreciate it without the subtitles, this decision had a lot to commend it musically. Martinů was living in Paris when he wrote Julietta. And the opera reflects a very French sensibility in its ironic and sometimes cruel humour, its measured inconsequentiality and conscious eclecticism. Even the story - the man who pursues his love-object in a dream-world where everyone has amnesia - is quintessentially surrealist. There are hints of Janáček in there, but the more obvious comparisons are the Paris Stravinsky (Martinů even pops in a Sacre paraphrase), and particularly Poulenc. 

Jiří Bělohlávek's studied insouciance and wit captured the flavour perfectly, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra sounded immaculately prepared. Some extended longueurs evaded even his sure touch - Martinů spread his treasures thinly over a vast opus, and this is one opera that could have done with some editing. But the deft solo passages and curious percussion sparkled. And he straightened his face and got serious for the last act's great dramatic moment as Michel decides to abandon real life forever and follow Juliette into a penumbral world of dreams. 

The cast had worked hard to inject humour and variety into the long declamatory passages, though some coped better with the French than others. William Burden's language skills were more convincing in speech than in song, where he over-nasalised. But he was effective and sympathetic in the central part of Michel, and really put everything into it.

Magdalena Kožena, despite the, er, unfortunate slip, captured Juliette's ethereal other-worldly appeal perfectly. It's not a large part (despite the opera's title) but she was very much the dominant presence throughout.

The role experience of the Paris Opera's character tenor Andreas Jäggi showed in his detailed portrayals of the Police Chief, Postman and Clerk. Costumes and props differentiated the several roles most of the cast played, and Roderick Williams too was a standout, defining his characters neatly and projecting with power and assurance. Rosalind Plowright was a memorable fortune-teller in a swirling cloak. Even with the encumbrance of scores and stands, this was one 'semi-staging' that really worked, eliminating potential confusions and elevating the performance to a higher level. 

Most importantly, it focussed attention on the music, which although this year is the fiftieth anniversary of Martinů's death, few have so far been prepared to do. Some news about Martinů's other great opera, The Greek Passion is anticipated soon though, and Bělohlávek and the BBCSO will be bringing a symphony cycle to the Barbican in the autumn. About time!

*****************UPDATE*********************

to be broadcast on Radio 3 on Tuesday 31 March at 6.30pm - and presumably available for the next week on the iPlayer too (thanks HairMan for the comment)

 

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