Intermezzo

David Daniels at Wigmore Hall

David Daniels / Martin Katz - Wigmore Hall, 21 February 2010

Brahms Auf dem See, Ständchen, Nicht mehr zu dir zu gehen, Mein Mädel hat einen Rosenmund, O wüsst ich doch den Weg zurück     Peri Gioite al canto mio     Durante Danza, danza, fanciulla gentile     Caccini Amarilli mia bella      Frescobaldi Così mi disprezzate      Hahn A Chloris, Quand je fus pris au pavillon, Chanson au bord de la fontaine, Paysage    Handel Cara sposa from Rinaldo, Perfido! di a quell'empio tiranno from Radamisto     Quilter Music, when soft voices die    Vaughan Williams Linden Lea    Elgar Where corals lie    Howells King David     Finzi It was a lover and his lass
Encores: Strauss Zueignung, Lotti Pur dicesti o bocca bella, Gounod L'absent

An hour of non-stop baroquery can render even the loveliest of countertenor voices yawnsome.  So David Daniels deserves credit for the variety of his Wigmore Hall programme, which travelled from 16th century Florence to 20th century England via France and Germany, taking in his beloved Handel on the way.

That said, he was at his most effective in the earlier music. Arias from Rinaldo and Radamisto had all the dramatic flair of full-scale opera, where, despite any number of fine recitals, he's always at his best. His arie antiche seemed far more consequential than Joyce DiDonato's (partially overlapping) selection last month. The breathtaking coloratura of Danza, danza, fanciulla gentile was far more than display for its own sake, and the suspended line of Amarilli mia bella hovered in unearthly beauty.

Hahn's cod-Bach À Chloris was a predictably fine match for Daniels' baroque sensibilities. But the exquisite beauty of his voice equally accomodates the more perfumed end of Hahn's repertoire, like the rapturous Paysage, for which loveliness of tone is prerequisite.

An English song selection took in Quilter, Vaughan Williams, Elgar, Finzi and appropriately enough, Howells' King David, a tenderly drawn portrait of melancholy. Daniels' impressionistic delivery is a world away from fiercely inhabited subjectivity of Alice Coote's all-English programme last week (which sadly I didn't have time to write up), but it has its own charm even if it doesn't dig quite as deep.

The opening Brahms selection was less convincing. Daniels' romantic sensibilities, the warm tone and rich vibrato, suggest this repertoire is not out of his reach. But the way he physicalises notes more than words betrays an essentially musical, rather than verbal approach. He uses his voice like an instrument, communicating with carefully shaped and moulded tone. The very musicality of his singing in a way obstructs the text, which is foremost in these songs.  Although his diction was near-faultless, the individual words themselves were sacrificed to the more abstract expressiveness of line and phrasing. Here as elsewhere, Martin Katz's choppy, fragmented phrasing seemed to work against Daniels' more lyrical tendencies.

An ecstatic reception (which began before he'd even sung a note) was rewarded with three encores, the most extraordinary of which was Zueignung - I'm still not sure whether it was brilliant or terrible.

 

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.

David Daniels is Bach on top

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".

  

Death in Underpants - Handel's Tamerlano in Munich

Tamerlano - Bayerische Staatsoper, Nationaltheater, Munich, 24 March 2008

Munich normally sticks to the tried and tested team of David Alden and Ivor Bolton for its much-praised Handel operas. For their new Tamerlano, they stuck with Bolton for the conducting, but brought in Pierre Audi to direct, in a production first aired in Sweden.

I wouldn't dare go so far as to say Handel can be boring. But let's just say, in Handel's more diffuse or less than riveting moments, Alden's ability to expound clearly on a point or whip the attention back to the story comes in handy. Here, in Audi's austere yet surprisingly opaque production, even the bare bones of the story suffer.

The defeated Bajazet and his daughter Asteria are captured and held by Tamerlano, who decides he'd rather marry Asteria than his betrothed, Irene. But Asteria and Tamerlano's ally, Andronico, are secretly in love. Asteria's continual refusals prompt Tamerlano to order that she is raped by his slaves. So Bajazet commits suicide, Andronico offers to kill himself too, Tamerlano sees the error of his ways, and all pair off happily, Andronico with Asteria, Tamerlano with Irene.

In Audi's bleak setting, breeched and corseted figures skid around some sort of efficiently-burgled Nordic ballroom. The obligations imposed by defeat and captivity aren't addressed. Bajazet and Asteria seem any other members of this odd society. Courtly manners are everything. There's nothing to suggest Tamerlano's whims are actually enforceable demands. His threats of death and torture seem merely absurd posturing.

When a solitary chair is eventually planted on the bare floorboards, it becomes a beacon of hope for some real action that never materialises. Despite an inordinate amount of rolling and crawling round the floor, there is fundamentally little more to look at than a concert performance. The demands of the da capo arias must be met musically alone - there is nothing in the staging to reinforce the repetition and development.

It's hugely to the credit of the singers, and the reliably refined conducting of Ivor Bolton, that they manage to drag anything out of this torpor. David Daniels played Tamerlano with a piratical twinkle and a bundle of energy, more of an impetuous commander than a ruthless villain, but such were the limits of the production.

John Mark Ainsley had the fearlessness to infuse even the most rapid of coloratura with an astonishing range of expression. His decrepit elderly Bajazet was so physically convincing I could see the surprise in the faces of some audience members as he bounded around like any normal 40-something at the curtain call. This production's Unterhosemoment came in his death scene - a simple touch which underlined Bajazet's age and frailty and so magnified Tamerlano's cruelty. Another few ideas like that would have shaped the production quite differently.

Sarah Fox's Asteria got some of the most beautiful arias in the opera, Se non mi vuol amar and Cor di padre, delivered in a silvery-pure ribbon of liquid sound. Needs to watch how low she bows in a tight corset though >>>>>

Maite Beaumont's voice, deep and velvety as a pint of Guinness, is almost a shock on first hearing. Her Irene had plenty of wit, spirit and defiance, and in Par che mi nasca in seno an arrestingly ample tone coupled with meticulous phrasing.

Mary-Ellen Nesi's Andronico, handsome in looks and voice, and Vito Priante's resonant Leone rounded off the blindingly brilliant cast. It's rare that I can find absolutely nothing to carp about on the musical side, but that's how it was. I don't really do CDs, but I'd buy one of this performance in a heartbeat. It's just a tragedy that it was let down by such a lacklustre production - which led to one of the oddest ovations I've ever heard - mouse-quiet applause as the curtain descended, fading rapidly to silence, then a cup winners' ovation as the singers and conductor came back on. It was no more than they deserved.

Here's a 'behind the scenes' video produced by the Staatsoper, featuring interviews with David Daniels and Ivor Bolton and a few music clips:

Handel's Orlando explodes in Munich

Orlando - Bayerische Staatsoper, Nationaltheater, Munich, 25 July 2007
(Münchner Opernfestspiele 2007)

David Alden deploys every trick in the book in this high speed jellybean-bright production of Handel's Orlando, given a second outing after its premiere at last year's Festival. It wasn't always coherent, but it was never for a moment boring.

The story is of the great warrior Orlando, who neglects his army duties to focus on his unrequited love for the minxy Angelica, is sent mad by her preference for the mysterious Medoro, and is finally reconciled to his military destiny by the intervention of the magician Zoroastro. This improbable tale would have seemed rather more reasonable in Handel's day, when madness wasn't understood in a medical sense, and magic was an object of interest rather than cynicism.

Today it needs some re-imagining to be taken seriously in a dramatic sense. Here it probably gets more than it strictly requires, and anyone demanding fidelity to the original text might have been disappointed. Myself, I ask for nothing more than entertainment, and I was not disappointed.

In the first act we see Orlando playing out his choices on the video screen of his mind. Filling most of the screen we see strict ranks of marching soldiers kitted out in shiny jackboots and form fitting jodhpurs. Shoved into one corner are images of messy domesticity, all babies and ironing. Exactly what sort of choice is Orlando making here? It becomes clearer as the action progresses through a series of ever more kitsch scenery and delightfully superfluous costume changes. Handel's woodland hut is translated as a motel and its occupant Dorinda switches inexplicably from her initial Rosa Klebb get up into a miniskirt and red patent thigh boots, ready to perform services Handel never dreamed of. GI Joes in blue camo fatigues muscle in at the least excuse, most memorably to to wheel in a fleet of gigantic erect missiles (something for the girl with everything?).

The imagery owes a lot to that connoisseur of insanity Stanley Kubrick, and mostly makes as much sense as his masterpiece 2001. Which is to say that one 'gets it' without understanding entirely why.

The superb cast responded to the quick change high energy of the production with fully wired perfomances, a million miles from the bloodless warblings Handel is so often treated to. David Daniels as Orlando was in full vocal health and on top form, every note not only in its right place, but energetically projected. He was the magnetic and inevitable centre of the production every time he stepped on stage. His final entrance, mounted on a sort of gigantic cannon-sporting mechanical spider (sorry, no idea), complete with ear-splitting explosion, was the single most unforgettable moment of the night.

Rosemary Joshua as Angelica was appropriately manipulative, her costume changes - Paris Hilton to equestrienne to Barbie princess - signifying her slippery character, and the sweetness of her voice serving her well. Olga Pasichnyk's Dorinda and Alastair Miles's Zoroastro handled the cartoon humour and the more serious side equally well. Miles's surprisingly agile bass was easily up to the demands of Handel's coloratura. Beth Clayton as Medoro drew the short straw costume-wise, wrapped in the flowing robes and turban of the mujahadin (the lure of the exotic? who knows) throughout, but provided convincingly masculine authoritative support.

The small orchestra under Ivor Bolton was magnificent, thrilling and spirited, mindful of the singers' needs but always ready to launch out dramatically. Their vigorous approach easily matched the energy of the production.

The massive applause and multiple curtain calls that ended the night were no more than this brilliant production deserved.

Curtain call pics:

(More photos here.)