Intermezzo

Intermezzo at Intermezzo

Intermezzo - New York City Opera at David H. Koch Theater, 9 November 2010

Richard Strauss's Intermezzo doesn't quite deserve a place up there with the likes of Salome and Elektra, but it hardly merits the obscurity that has become its lot either. Hey, even this blog is higher up the Google rankings. The problem I think is that it's not really an opera at all. No big numbers, not a tune you could hum. Strauss himself called it "a bourgeois comedy with symphonic interludes." I'd call it a light play set to music (think Noel Coward without the wit or the cruelty) with some orchestral business to cover the scenery changes.

Die schweigsame Frau in Munich

Die schweigsame Frau - Prinzregententheater Munich, 23 July 2010

Die schweigsame Frau's relative lack of success is sometimes excused as bad timing. An adaptation of Ben Jonson's play The Silent Woman, it's inoffensive comic fluff. But the fact that its librettist Stefan Zweig was Jewish ensured the opera was banned by the Nazis after just three performances in 1935. 

Now it languishes in a corner of the repertoire, picked up and dusted off only occasionally. But much else that was prohibited in Germany during Hitler's reign - Mahler especially springs to mind - has recovered its position, and more. Do the reasons lie more in the work itself than the unfortunate circumstances of its debut? This new production for the Munich Opera Festival gives it a fair chance, but I can't say that I was blown away. By riddling it with ironic pastiches of his own older works, Strauss was perhaps acknowledging that he had little new to say.

He's a dirty old man, but she can't get him out of her cistern*

Salome - Royal Opera House, 3 July 2010 (first night)

Justin Way’s revival direction seems under-rehearsed, to conjecture kindly. Even the experienced Johan Reuter looked as hesitant and uncertain as a last-minute replacement straight from the airport. Yet paradoxically on its first return to the Royal Opera House David McVicar’s Salome emerged more clearly and coherently than it did on its premiere. It's a society on the brink of the apocalypse prophesied by Jokaanan, and acknowledged by Herod as he throws a party for the end of the world before retreating to his Führerbunker below. McVicar’s 1930’s update points up the decadence which a modern audience is inclined to mistake for mere extravagance in a more traditional swords’n’sandals production. The child abuse implied by McVicar's imaginative but clunkily-executed seven veils dance explains Salome's destructive, and self-destructive, impulses.

Gergiev's Elektra boils dry

Elektra - LSO / Gergiev - Barbican, 12 January 2010

 Starting on a high is one thing, sustaining it for two hours quite another. Gergiev's Elektra landed such a sucker punch in its opening bars that there was nowhere left to go. A cauldron of seething hormonal hysteria gushed out in an earsplitting tidal wave. Nothing was held back. If Gergiev had reined in his forces there and then, perhaps the climactic moments later on would have registered with full effect. But the same thrilling but ultimately wearing pace was maintained throughout. Even a rollercoaster's no fun if you spend all your time at the top of the ride. He seemed buried in his gigantic Russian-edition score throughout - was it simply a lack of full preparation? He had the temperature of the work down, no doubt, but a sense of form and shape eluded him.

Tellingly, the most gripping passage was the entrance of Orest. Here the drastically reduced orchestration literally forced a moment of quietude, a written-in contrast to the tumult around it.

But where dramatic light and shade was missing, colour was not. Though he recognised that the densely-carpeted score needs binding together more than transparency, Gergiev drew details out like flowers in a forest, not easy with the full orchestral complement of 112 on stage.

The vocal honours went to some of the briefest appearances. Felicity Palmer, a fabulous and terrifying Clytemnestra, was the only singer to consistently pierce through Gergiev's decibels. Matthias Goerne's velvet baritone created a world-weary, enigmatic Orest, riveting in his subdued recognition scene, less effective when he had to force his voice above the orchestra. 

Jeanne-Michèle Charbonnet, for all her overbaked writhing, was an unpersuasive Elektra. Serene and lyrical, more concerned with tone than text, the impassivity of her singing contrasted with her constantly flailing body. She sang attractively but without either the power or the vocal expressivity for Elektra's matricidal hysteria to register in all its horror. And she didn't quite have the stamina for this very demanding uncut version of the score, flagging noticeably in the final minutes.

Angela Denoke's Chrysothemis wasn't quite right either. Though she matched her resources intelligently to the demands of the role, ultimately there's too much steel and not enough lyricism in the voice to convey girlish innocence. I don't believe the title role is in Denoke's repertoire yet, but it's the direction her voice is headed. Ian Storey completed a less than perfect cast, singing Aegist efficiently but almost totally without inflection, like a brilliant sight reader who'd just been handed the score. Mariinsky soloists of varying quality were shipped over for the bit parts - no doubt a perk of Gergiev's position, but surely an expensive one?

 

  

 

*****   more photos on next page   *****

Stefan Herheim's dream Rosenkavalier in Stuttgart

Der Rosenkavalier - Staatsoper Stuttgart, 27 November 2009

You might think the last thing the lengthy Der Rosenkavalier needs is even more music, but Stefan Herheim cheekily pre-empts its prelude with disorientating electronica. In a star-pricked, lavishly draped boudoir, a fading Diana Dors figure contemplates her vanished looks in a dressing table mirror.

Just when I wondered if I'd come on the wrong night by mistake, she furiously thrust her fist through its mirror and Strauss's music began. Horned and hairy priapic satyrs erupt from a giant frieze depicting the rape of Europa. One Pan-like creature fashions a silver rose from the broken mirror shards. They ravish the Marschallin to the famous brassy calls until an Apollonian Octavian descends from the skies to rescue her from the clutches of Dionysian abandon.

This is, needless to say, not the usual comedy of manners - the opulent rococo costuming is deceptive. Herheim's Rosenkavalier employs the primal forms of myth and symbol to explore the Freudian world of unconscious desire revealed by dreams. The unfulfilled Marschallin, tied by social etiquette, seeks satisfaction of her innermost desires in the unbound and illogical realm of fantasy. In this ideal world, she doesn't even have to choose between sex and chocolate - the page boy Mohammed, revealed as another randy satyr, takes her from behind as he delivers her breakfast.

The action is played out beneath a giant version of the Marschallin's blue crinoline, and just to make that clear it's doubled in miniature puppet form in the first act. Sophie is the Marschallin's younger self, and Mariandel yet another side. The bull-horned and horny Ochs (Ochs is German for ox/bull) wreaks Dionysian disruption with his satyr servants and their flapping rubber genitals. The court too have an animal side, establishing character instantly and brilliantly. Faninal and Sophie's maid are preening poultry, the notary a poodle, Valzacchi and Annina a cockroach and a moth, and the servants turn round to reveal sheep's heads behind. The only creature which doesn't quite work is the occasionally interposed pun-too-far of Strauss himself as a pantomime ostrich (Strauss is German for ostrich).

Of course the opera is about more than the Marschallin. Strauss and Hofmannsthal viewed a Europe at the end of an era, on the brink of decay, mirrored in Ochs's unbridled excesses. The painting of the Rape of Europa hanging behind is a constant reminder. Can his third act lesson teach Ochs anything?  Guillotined heads on poles and Annina's uniformed gas-masked children bear witness to the savageries of Europe's past and the still worse carnage yet to come. Ochs tries and fails to strangle 'Strauss' the panto ostrich like Rod Hull grappling with Emu (the mostly German audience sat straight faced, enraptured; I was dying). But he is ultimately defeated - the golden stars beneath the Marschallin's blue skirt are echoed in her triumphant final deus-ex-machina entry as the incarnation of Europa and the end of the panto nonsense. Ochs disappears into the skies, rocket-propelled, discharged to outer space.

As Sophie and Octavian are finally united, the Marschallin and Faninal join the audience in the boxes wearing everyday costume. Now it's Pan who's weeping as he stuffs his face with the mirror-rose he made, expiring bloody and writhing as the reactionary and sentimental emerge victorious. Herheim may love the opera, but he's disappointed in Strauss.

If all this makes it sound as if Herheim has replaced Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier with something of his own invention, nothing could be further from the truth. The action respects every turn of the music, and in many cases mimics it structurally. The most overt parody-waltzes are accompanied by knowing unison swaying. When it's time for the big numbers - the presentation of the rose, the final trio - he clears the stage and there's nothing to detract from clearly-presented motive and devastating emotional impact. The libretto may be used ingeniously, but it's never ignored. Neither is the emotional or physical direction that the music implies. Quite simply, it all rings true.

If there's one criticism which could be fairly levelled, it's that some of the smaller moments are not as touching as they might be. That's because Herheim chooses to expose the sentimentality rather than wallow in it - and it could be argued that because Strauss's sentimentality in Rosenkavalier is both conscious and intentional, it should be swallowed whole.

Manfred Honeck whipped up his excellent orchestra with an equal lack of saccharine fluff and a driving pace. Fantastically bold colouring, confidently varied dynamics and daring rubato complemented the hallucinatory visuals, detail swimming in and out of focus.

It's hard to pick a standout amongst the excellent cast, most of whom surpassed their bigger-name counterparts in the recent Covent Garden production. Mojca Erdmann was the only name I recognised. Her Sophie was beautifully-voiced though lacking in colour. Christiane Iven's blowsy Marschallin wasn't quite as elegant but she really held the stage, with even the second act scented by her presence. Marina Prudenskaja's darkly poised mezzo complemented a frighteningly convincing physical portrayal of Octavian, and she wasn't afraid to let rip and squawk her way through Mariandel. Lars Woldt's Ochs was strangely likeable despite his oafish excesses, and clearly a bumpkin (as the directions suggest) rather than a boor (as we usually get).

What a pity there were such a large number of technical problems on the night I visited. Curtains that wouldn't close, curtains that wouldn't open, drapes that snagged on ladders, failing lights, and assorted bumps, bangs and crashes all evening. It's a busy production that must make a lot of technical demands but these were basic issues.

*****   more photos on next page   *****

a faded rose

A bulging diary forces me to skip Covent Garden's nth revival of Der Rosenkavalier later this month, but I did find time for Friday's general rehearsal.

What a disappointment.

The tired old tinselled macaroon production is the least of the problems, even making allowances for the unfinished nature of the rehearsal product. I haven't heard the ROH orchestra play this badly all year. Scrappy ensemble, poor intonation, deranged brass - it would shame a school band. The curtain-down preludes were a real trial. Were there any orchestra rehearsals at all beforehand? It certainly didn't sound like it. Kirill Petrenko really has his work cut out to knock it into shape before Monday's opening.

And I was disappointed in Soile Isokoski's Marschallin. I can understand why she wanted to conserve her voice for most of the rehearsal, but charisma doesn't wear out if it's exercised. Her presence barely registered. And her makeup was positively unkind - couldn't they at least give her some brows?

Sophie Koch's Octavian too failed to sparkle, though at least she sang out. As to why a seventeen year old boy might be interested in knocking off a flour-faced gran (and vice versa) the production imparts no clues. It's rare that any of the characters even look at each other outside the comic knockabouts, and so the Marschallin's beautifully-written soul-searching passes unexplored.

So the sideshow became the star - the delightfully oafish Baron Ochs of Peter Rose, whose less than elegant singing works in this case to the character's advantage. Thomas Allen's Faninal too was wonderfully drawn in the few lines allotted.

But it was Lucy Crowe who left the most positive impression overall, a Sophie as defiant and spirited as Baron Ochs claims. Some of those top notes sounded dangerously squeezed, but the rest was liquid silver, and her stroppy charm made a long four and half hours pass less slowly.

 

the silent Rosenkavalier

Le Chevalier à la rose (Der Rosenkavalier): Orchestre National d'Île de France/Frank Strobel - Théâtre du Châtelet, Paris, 14 November 2009

Many people accuse Richard Strauss's music of sounding like a film soundtrack. Not everyone realises that he did actually write one - albeit after a considerable amount of arm-twisting.

Largely based on his opera Der Rosenkavalier, it was created for live performance by orchestra (no singers) alongside the 1925 silent movie of the same name, which fleshes out the story line of the opera but still manages to come in at half the length.

The opera's librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal also wrote the film's script. But despite pleading he could whip up little enthusiasm in Strauss. There was much at stake for Strauss. If the film failed, he failed. But if on the other hand the film were successful, it might undermine the reputation of the opera in comparison, a risk to which Strauss was acutely sensitive. The politicking between film makers, financiers, publishers and the numerous other parties engaged in the making of a movie was another aspect of the process Strauss found distasteful. His doubts were salved by liberal applications of cash, and he took the job, but it wasn't a whole-hearted effort.

Much of the routine rearrangement was turned over to assistants. Where new music was required for new scenes, Strauss preferred to recycle old tunes. The limited amount of truly new material, principally a battle march, lacks inspiration. Once complete, Strauss tried his best to turn his back on it - Hofmannsthal had another battle persuading him to conduct the 1926 Dresden premiere. But eventually the score was delivered, the premiere conducted. 

The film's director was Robert Wiene, a hot property after his influential (and financially successful) 1920 film Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari. That cost 20,000 dollars to make. Ten times as much was raised for Rosenkavalier, enabling Wiene to stage a massive battle and an extravagant outdoor masked ball finale. Both are centred around the Marschallin's husband, who is of course unseen in the opera. In the film he's cipher-like and I suspect created merely for the purpose of these very scenes. Servants, guests, soldiers, peasants (some interesting 'real' faces) crowd the screen. More cash was splashed on opulent costumes and lavish sets from the designer of the opera's 1911 premiere, Alfred Roller.

In spite of all the money thrown at it, the film has little of Caligari's extraordinary originality. Perhaps it was all those interfering financiers or perhaps Wiene was simply running out of ideas. There is just one truly memorable image - the screen fills with what looks like a huge white fleece, which parts like a set of jigsaw pieces, revealing itself as the massed heads of a group of elderly periwigged gossips. But the pace is unflagging, and (within the confines of silent movie high style) Wiene draws excellent performances from all his actors, right down to the extras.

Sadly and despite initial acclaim, the original film did not survive intact. The version shown at the Châtelet was pieced together from what remains, using a selection of stills and brief clips to make up ten minutes missing from the end.

Silent movie specialist Frank Strobel has been conducting this version around Europe since 2006 - he visited Liverpool last year, but not, as yet, London. He was fortunate to have for this performance the services of the young and energetic Orchestre National d'Île de France, who make something of a specialism of work outside the mainstream classical repertoire. They played the technically challenging music tirelessly for nearly two hours, filling the lofty tiers of the Châtelet with great attention to detail and dynamics.

The score isn't Strauss's greatest, the movie isn't that special, but with the orchestra in the pit and the film projected on the Châtelet's enormous screen above them, somehow they compensated for each other's deficiencies. The many comic moments charmed, the Marschallin's sad surrender of Octavian drew a tear or two, the whole drama came alive. A packed and hugely varied audience - several small children included - gave orchestra and conductor a massive ovation.

Frank Strobel takes the stage:

 

The audience leaving: 

A promo video made by Houston Symphony Orchestra for their performance of the film earlier this year:

Royal Opera House 2009/10 season - all the details

Here first! - a full list of all the Royal Opera House's main stage productions for the 2009/10 season.

The 2009/10 Covent Garden season opens with neither bang nor whimper but with a credit-crunching concert performance on 7 September (repeated on 14 September). Makes a change from last year's Sun readers' special I suppose.

The opera in question is Donizetti's Linda di Chamounix, and the conductor is bel canto genius Mark Elder. The cast includes potential Next Big Things Stephen Costello, Eglise Gutierrez and Luciano Botelho, plus the incomparable Alessandro Corbelli, the first of several welcome appearances this season.

The first staged opera of the season is Nicholas Hytner's lego-loving Don Carlo, with - OMG!- Jonas Kaufmann !!! in the title role. John Tomlinson joins him as the Grand Inquisitor, and the rest of the cast is lifted straight from the first run - Marina Poplavskaya, Simon Keenlyside, fans' favourite Ferruccio Furlanetto, Sonia Ganassi and Pumeza Matshikiza.The conductor is Semyon Bychkov.

This season's contribution to the 2013 Wagnerversary is a new Christof Loy production of Tristan und Isolde. Antonio Pappano conducts Ben Heppner, Nina Stemme, Matti Salminen, Michael Volle and Sophie Koch.

Neigh! Francesco Zambello's ghastly Carmen returns in October, with the latest Covent Garden favourite Elina Garanca back for the title role, fighting off Roberto Alagna, Ildebrando d'Arcangelo, and a farmyard full of furry friends. Bertrand de Billy conducts. It's resuscitated again in June 2010 with a distinctly 'B' cast.

October also sees one of Richard Jones's more subtle and effective efforts back on stage - and attractively cast. The shouldn't-work-but-it-does double bill of Ravel's L'Heure Espagnole (Christine Rice, Yann Beuron, Christopher Maltman, Andrew Shore and Bonaventura Bottone) and Puccini's Gianni Schicchi (Thomas Allen, Maria Bengtsson and Stephen Costello) is conducted by Pappano.

Francesco Zambello steps into Tchaikovsky's The Slippers in November. The new production will be conducted by Alexander Polianichko and features some serious talent fresh from the Mariinsky - Olga Guryakova, Vsevolod Grivnov, Larissa Diadkova, Vladimir Matorin and Maxim Mikhailov.

John Schlesinger's elderly Der Rosenkavalier is dusted off in December. Kirill Petrenko conducts and the cast includes Soile Isokoski, Sophie Koch, Thomas Allen and Lucy Crowe.

Littering the December and January schedules is the inevitable La Bohème. This time Andris Nelsons conducts most of the double-cast performances, which begin with Piotr Beczala and Hibla Gerzmava and end with not a few tbc's.

Robert Lepage's intermittently effective Rake's Progress returns in January 2010. Ingo Metzmacher, Toby Spence (a Tom Rakewell tdf), Kate Royal, Kyle Ketelsen and Stephanie Blythe promise much on the musical side.

Female conductor alert! Top Lisboan Julia Jones wields the baton over Jonathan Miller's Cosi fan Tutte in January. The cast includes Charles Castronovo and Sally Matthews.

A new Richard Jones production of Prokofiev's The Gambler in February is conducted by Pappano, with a cast including Roberto Sacca, Angela Denoke, John Tomlinson and Jurgita Adamonyte.

Plácido Domingo's first appearance of the season is as a tenor. Graham Vick's acclaimed production of Handel's Tamerlano (recorded in Madrid and available on DVD con Plácido) makes its first visit to Covent Garden in March with Christianne Stoijn, Sara Mingardo and Christine Schäfer. Baroque specialist Ivor Bolton conducts.

Bill Bryden's family-friendly The Cunning Little Vixen returns in March with Emma Matthews, Christopher Maltman and Emma Bell, though the presence of Charles Mackerras on the podium has to be the main draw.

Caurier and Leiser's lovely Il Turco in Italia is back in April, with Maurizio Benini conducting, and Aleksandra Kursak, Colin Lee, Alessandro Corbelli, Thomas Allen and Ildebrando d'Arcangelo in the cast.

Aida is subjected to the David McVicar magic in April. His new production is conducted by Nicola Luisotti and features Micaela Carosi, Marcelo Alvarez and Luciana D'Intino. Bare naked elephants?

The last of the Big Three, Richard Eyre's subtly intelligent La Traviata, makes its annual appearance in May and July. This time her name's in the programme - Our first Lady of the Camellias is the fabulous former Netrebko sub Ermonela Jaho. Joining her in her long-awaited return to Covent Garden in May are Saimir Pirgu and Dmitri Hvorostovsky. July's 'B' Violetta is Angela Gheorghiu, who makes do with James Valenti and Zeljko Lucic. Yves Abel conducts.

Laurent Pelly's now-legendary La Fille du Régiment returns in May with the unbeatable original cast of Juan Diego Flórez, Natalie Dessay, Alessandro Corbelli and Felicity Palmer back in place. Bruno Campanella conducts.

What would tempt Sir Colin Davis back into the pit? How about David McVicar's Le Nozze di Figaro? Erwin Schrott, Camilla Tilling, Maruisz Kwiecen. Annette Dasch, Soile Isokoski and Christine Schäfer head the strong cast.

Antonio Pappano conducts Laurent Pelly's new Manon, coming to Covent Garden in June with the announced cast including Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazón. Anyone fancy a bet?

In one of those rare operatic fairy stories, June sees a baritone with less than a year's experience thrust into a leading role at Covent Garden. Yes, it's Plácido Domingo again, and this time he's Simon Boccanegra. Antonio Pappano conducts a strong cast including Marina Poplavskaya, Ferruccio Furlanetto and Joseph Calleja. It's the 1991 Elijah Moshinsky production by the way, not the Ian Judge one seen last year.

The season ends in July 2010 with the first revival of David McVicar's controversial Salome. Angela Denoke takes the central role, with Johan Reuter as Jokanaan. Hartmut Haenchen conducts.

No link yet, but more details expected on the Royal Opera House website sometime next week.

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*******UPDATE 22/4*******

The Royal Opera House's press releases are now available on their website. Go here for the summary, here for the opera details and here for the ballet.

Diana Damrau - promising start, needs more work

Diana Damrau / Julius Drake - Wigmore Hall, 4 November 2008

Berg Seven Early Songs
Barber Mélodies passagères Op. 27
Iain Bell Daughters of Britannia
Strauss Drei Lieder der Ophelia Op. 67
Strauss Malven; Einerlei Op. 69 No. 3; Ständchen Op. 17 No. 2; Freundliche Vision Op. 48 No. 1; Wiegenlied Op. 41 No. 1; Muttertändelei Op. 43 No. 2; Amor Op. 68 No. 5

For her Wigmore debut, Diana Damrau went for an wide-ranging programme that allowed her to display a mastery of several styles and languages. It let on that there's more to her than the high-flown coloratura chirruping she's known for.

Precise in every note, equally at home in English, French and German, capable of the most exquisite floating pianissimos and faultless messa di voce - technically, it was staggering. Yet despite the breathtaking technique, I couldn't help feeling there was something missing for most of the evening. And that was a sense of detailed engagement with the text. The opera singer's ability to nail mood and emotion was there. But the lieder singer's feel for poetry emerged only in some of the Strauss songs she closed with. Her technical arsenal was more structural than semantic, with a particular tendency for showstopper FX on final lines and a disregard for verbal nuance.

It's perhaps unsurprising that the group of songs written specially for her, Iain Bell's Daughters of Britannia, suited her abilities best. Bell's bold characterisation and plain language may not be particularly innovative or poetic. But Damrau could assume a series of sharply-hewn and convincing personas as she slipped into the shoes of Boudicca, Maid Marian, Lady Godiva and the rest.

As the deranged heroine of of Strauss's Ophelia songs, or the tender mama of his Wiegenlied and Muttertändelei, again she transported us. She is clearly some actress, as she's shown time and again on the opera stage. But when it came to being herself, despite all the artistry, there was just something missing.

 

1 down, 75 to go - the First Night of the Proms

Prom 1: Christine Brewer / Pierre-Laurent Aimard / Nicholas Daniel / Wayne Marshall / Royal College of Music Brass / BBC Symphony Orchestra / Jiří Bělohlávek - Royal Albert Hall, 18 July 2008

R. Strauss Festliches Präludium
Mozart Oboe Concerto in C major, K314
R. Strauss Four Last Songs
Messiaen Dieu parmi nous, from 'La Nativité du Seigneur'
Beethoven Rondo in B-flat, for piano and orchestra
E. Carter Caténaires (solo piano)
Scriabin The Poem of Ecstasy

If there's one thing the Proms are good for, it's a whinge or two. So here, in no particular order:

- the weather. In place of the usual bugbear, scorching heat inside and out, this year's Proms started damp and blustery, with the odd shower sprinkling those of us queuing outside. The white at the top of the picture >>>>>
isn't overexposure btw - it's a solid bank of cloud....

- the first night programme. A bitty 'sampler' that needed a different orchestra/stage configuration for each piece. Seemingly designed to maximise tea break time for the TV audience at home (the whole Prom was broadcast live, and is still available on the BBC iPlayer here if you're interested), but all the fannying around completely disrupted the momentum for the live audience.

- The 8ft BBC camera platform plonked in the middle of the Arena >>>>> 
and blocking the stage view for anyone behind it. With a capacity audience, particularly unfair.

- the free Proms pocket guides running out before the concert had even started.

But what about the music? Well, the opening  Festliches Präludium shows Strauss at his least subtle, all banging organ chords and brass fanfares. Bělohlávek conjured up decibels on a Ted Nugent scale. My ears rang. What a start. 

After an eternity of faffing the stage around, the now-drastically pruned orchestra were ready to take on Mozart's Oboe Concerto, with Nick Daniel in the driving seat. A choux puff after Strauss's black forest gateau, it was handled with delicacy and a touch of wit by all concerned. I couldn't help thinking though that for all its charm, it does just go on a bit.

Then came the late sub, the redoubtable Christine Brewer, billowing in on a cloud of white satin and powder blue chiffon. Not many voices can fill the Royal Albert Hall, so the knob masters at the BBC often twiddle up the vocal volume for the benefit of home viewers. But la Brewer chose instead to give her live audience a real performance. She belted out Strauss's Four Last Songs at her impressive full capacity. Subtlety was necessarily in short measure, but her lusciously creamy soprano, capped with a remarkably even vibrato, rang out to the back of the hall.

I know it's Messiaen's anniversary year and all that, but even a diehard fan couldn't complain about the amount of Messiaen on offer at this year's Proms. The first of the many tributes came with a stunning Dieu parmi nous from Wayne Marshall. I could barely see him, bent over between the 9,999 pipes of Britain's second largest organ in his stage-rear eyrie, but the sound was ear-splitting.

Pierre-Laurent Aimard was the evening's final soloist. A rather slight piece of early Beethoven, the B flat Rondo, with orchestra, was followed by Elliot Carter's Caténaires. Written for Aimard, and receiving its UK premiere, it's a tiny twinkling gem, a mad ant dash around the keyboard that displays Aimard's extraordinary skill with line and phrasing (not to mention virtuosity) to the full.

The closer, Scriabin's Poem of Ecstasy, was hardly an orgy of sensuous abandon under the dour baton of Bělohlávek, but was at least lively enough to end the evening in the spirit of celebration in which it had begun. And like everything else on this evening, loud.

Incidentally, I was surprised to read a review of the Scriabin in The Guardian, as my friend Lu claims she was sitting right behind its author in the side stalls and he left just before it began. But perhaps it's a case of mistaken identity.

No mistakes about The Times Proms podcast - several of us in the Arena watched discreetly as a couple of Timesers stood in the corner recording this before the concert. So if they say it comes directly from the Proms, it's nothing but the truth. 

 

 

 

A Viennese Salome

Salome - Wiener Staatsoper, 23 May 2008

I'm not sure if this is the oldest production on the Vienna State Opera books, but at 36 years old and counting, it has to be up there. Some of the scenery has a cardboard cut-out, school play sort of look to it, but mostly it's wearing pretty well. That's mostly down to the timeless beauty of the Jugendstil-ish designs and the close following of the text.

A few things don't quite work. The lighting is terrible. It's constantly focussed stage right (as you can see in the photo), like a sunbeam. Unfortunately, that's rarely where the singers are standing. So they're belting it out in downstage gloom while Herod's throne (which is generally empty) is bathed in a cheery glow. And somewhere along the line the stage directions seem to have got lost. A lot of text is delivered straight to audience while the intended recipient loafs around yards behind. It underlines the enormity of David McVicar's achievement with his recent and riveting Covent Garden Salome, so subtle and telling in its detail.

This production looks a very poor cousin in comparison. But it's easy on the eye, not too irritating, and, crucially, tells the story in a way Strauss would recognise and we can understand. That's some compensation for the performances, none of which bowled me over. In fact, the only singer who stepped beyond mere adequacy was Terje Stensvold, and the best I can say about his Jochanaan is that he didn't do anything noticeably wrong.

Eva Johansson was a late replacement for Camilla Nylund as Salome. Her touching gameness and sheer drive just about rescued her in the face of some serious intonation problems and a total lack of the requisite high notes.  Flinging herself about in the seven veils dance, defiantly peeling back the chiffon tarpaulins to display her sturdy frame in a sausage-coloured bodysuit, you just willed her on. There were moments when she did in fact sing very well, with a commanding icy power, but these were fleeting, and she seemed to tire very quickly.

The Herod of Wolfgang Schmidt and Herodias of Daniela Denschlag were too comical to be menacing, or even regal - more like an eccentric aunt'n'uncle playing dress-up than a ruthless dictator and the whore of Babylon. And, along with most of the smaller parts, they often disappeared beneath the orchestra - conductor Stefan Soltesz ramping up the volume to provide the excitement that was missing from the orchestra's lush but unvaried performance.

Although I've seen some great performances at Vienna recently - like Die tote Stadt and the Lohengrin I caught a couple of nights ago and will write about later - it's productions like this Salome which give Vienna its unfortunate and not wholly-deserved reputation of being second rate.

Gergiev double dip

LSO/Gergiev - Barbican, 20 and 21 April 2008

I've just realised it's Sunday and I have a whole week's concert going undocumented, so I'd better get cracking. Fortunately Sunday and Monday were the same, so that cuts it down a bit.

You don't often get the chance to catch the same concert two nights in a row. But Gergiev's Mahler™ cycle - or maybe just Gergiev - is a big enough draw to sell out the Barbican twice, well in advance.  Plus it was being recorded for Radio 3 broadcast and for CD release, and they always like a back up for that.

I hadn't intended to do both, but the first (booked like last year or something) was so good it pulled me back for the repeat (a lucky last-minute return). I had to settle for a front corner seat second time round, but a clear side-on view of teh maestro at work was some payback for the lopsided sound.

The big number was Mahler's 2nd Symphony, but before that Strauss's Metamorphosen revealed a hand-picked crack team of LSO strings mining a vein of unaccustomed poignancy, a curiously effective complement to the characteristic meaty LSO sound. Strauss was 80 when he wrote this, as the measured resignation of Gergiev's reading reflected perfectly. His fluttering hands (batons are for wusses) strayed upward now and then to smooth errant strands back into his threadbare combover. Now, you can't attend to hair and music simultaneously, and he notably let it all fly in the Mahler, so whether Gergiev's concentration was 100% who can say.

Perhaps it's simply that Metamorphosen doesn't necessarily need conducting on stage at all if it's rehearsed properly. But it was still something special, and notably on both nights the London Symphony Chorus chose to come out and listen from their choir seats.

Mahler's 'Resurrection' Symphony was utterly convincing, the second night's performance better by some measure than the first. The dark thunder of the opening funeral march thrilled and terrified, and Gergiev's extended pause (more like one minute than the five prescribed by Mahler) was a vital breather before the ironic sentimentality of the second movement's nearly-dances.

Gergiev was big on effects - pauses milked to the max, dynamics straining the ears in both directions - essential inflection and punctuation in the wall of sound. The energy levels dipped only when the first soloist, mezzo Zlata Bulycheva made her effortful and rather routine entry in the fourth movement. The other soloist, soprano Elena Mosuc, was equally subdued if more radiant. The London Symphony Chorus, performing without scores for the dramatic final movement, took all the vocal honours, rehearsed to perfection, and immaculately attentive to Gergiev's every whim.

This was the point at which my second night front corner seat became a real disadvantage. The offstage brass, a potent and magical feature of the last movement from the centre of the auditorium, was a challenge to the orchestra when heard from a position in between the two teams. It was like battle of the bands, with the smaller group often winning. It wasn't quite enough to ruin the night - just rather bizarre.

The first night was received enthusiastically, but the second managed a standing ovation - not a frequent occurrence at the Barbican, but I think a genuine and spontaneous gesture of appreciation.

Kate Royal does French

Kate Royal / Roger Vignoles - Wigmore Hall, 16 February 2008

Brahms - Vier Gesänge Op 70
Debussy - Cinq Poèmes de Charles Baudelaire
Poulenc - Fiançailles pour rire
Strauss - Mädchenblumen, Ich wollt ein Straüßlein binden, Als mir dein Leid erklang

What has happened to Kate Royal's bewbs? Modestly corseted for her current role in Die Zauberflöte, it's hard to tell. Unfettered tonight in a stunning dove grey halter neck grecian gown they jostled for attention  like a couple of genetically modified grapefruit. Even in the Wigmore Hall, temple of song, it was enough to arouse interval remarks about 'shapeliness' from elderly gentlemen. I don't recall anything particularly eye popping in previous appearances. Industrial-grade bra padding, or has she been shopping in the same place as Katherine Jenkins?

Unfortunately, they weren't quite spectacular enough to distract from some ropey singing in her first all-Brahms song group. Intonation and diction were accurate enough, but the higher notes elicited a sound like a fork being slowly drawn across a saucepan. She never looked or sounded comfortable. These lugubrious songs are not easy or immediately appealing. Though the group slotted well into the programme, billed as part of the Wigmore Hall's French season, Royal was simply unable to supply any real insight into their elliptical texts.

With her voice now warmed up, she produced a much more attractive sound for Debussy's five Baudelaire settings. But Baudelaire's perfumed eroticism eluded her. Imperfect French accentuated the effect of knee-clutching English reserve. Her approach to the Poulenc group was similarly buttoned-up, her only hint of abandon the occasional tiny gasp. Royal performed without a score and appeared to know the songs inside out, so it was disappointing that she felt unable to take the risks she has demonstrated in her operatic performances.

It was only in the closing Strauss group that she seemed to find the right balance between expression and control, that unexpected blend of ice and warmth in her shimmering silver tones finally ecstatic.

Her eagerly provided encore was Lia's aria from Debussy's L'Enfant Prodigue, an oddly long and doleful choice to send an audience home with. But it was delivered with all the insight and engagement her earlier Debussy group had lacked - a promise of what might have been and an indication that eventual success in this repertoire is not beyond Royal's grasp.

Mitsuko Uchida making sense of Mozart

Chamber Orchestra of Europe/Mitsuko Uchida - Royal Festival Hall, 5 November 2007

Did Mitsuko Uchida pick half and leave the orchestra to pick the rest? It might explain the rather odd programme, chunks of Strauss and Wagner sandwiched between two of Mozart's most popular piano concertos. Or perhaps the idea was to show that this small but perfectly formed orchestra can turn its hand to just about anything.

The conductor-free format saw Uchida guide the orchestra from her piano stool, back to audience, for the opener, Mozart's Piano Concerto no.19. With light fluttering gestures, she coaxed a performance as crisp and weightless as her ice blue organdy jacket, and her own featherweight grace was blemished only by some slightly smudgy articulation in the left hand.

I'd love to be able to say Uchida's clothing choices reflect her music -- they don't, but the flowing unstructured forms, tonal palette and textural contrasts do at least display a consistent aesthetic - tonight in the form of a pale ruched cami and loose slate sik velvet pants.

Off went the piano and Uchida as the strings were left to it for Strauss's Metamorphosen. Under the invisible guidance of leader Alexander Janiczek, we witnessed the phenomenon of twenty-three musicians linked as telepathically as a quartet, one single body exhaling Strauss's great collective sigh.

After the interval came Wagner's Siegfried Idyll. How pleasant it was to sit back and enjoy this Siegfried-digest without the distraction of a hefty tenor bellowing and galumphing around the stage. The sheer finesse of every single musician's performance, not to mention the perfection of tone and ensemble, were a delight rarely heard in these parts. For once, I appreciated the hall's new acoustic. At least in the centre, and aided by the perfect intonation of every single player, it rendered every note crystal clear.

Uchida and her piano were wheeled back on to finish with Mozart's Piano Concerto no.20, the handsome to no.19's pretty.  Uchida painted it dark and brooding with a devilish smile, almost more Beethovien than Beethoven. The odd-looking programme at last made sense.

Jansons shows how to be cool

Prom 60: Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra/Jansons - Royal Albert Hall, 29 August 2007

Mariss Jansons and his Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra took a distinctly fireworks-free perspective on tonight's programme, Strauss's Also sprach Zarathustra and Sibelius's 2nd Symphony. He's a master at treading the right side of the narrow line between subtlety and plain dullness, and he finessed it perfectly again tonight.

The portentousness of Zarathustra offers a certain temptation towards vulgarity. But instead Jansons gave us a dignified and immaculately nuanced narrative, probing towards the unresolved ending.

The odd croaky brass entrance aside, the orchestral playing was a wonder of balance and technique. Bright, molten strings are at the heart of the BRSO's sound. There are no back row passengers in this orchestra, as reflected in their remarkable uniformity and ensemble.

The Sibelius 2, though maybe a little too far on the chilly Nordic side for my own tastes, was nevertheless thoughtfully weighted and immaculately performed. Watching Jansons on the podium was an education in itself, as his entire choreography switched for each new musical idea. At one point he simply stood with his hands glued to his sides for several bars, raising them into the air again as those bars were repeated with a different inflection.

The performance was a little less enthusiastically received than some others have been this week, but maybe this is a reflection of its cool gloss.

Perhaps just to prove they could raise the temperature if they chose, the BRSO warmed up considerably for their splashy encores, the maudlin Sibelius Valse Triste, and a manically energetic snippet from Bartók's Miraculous Mandarin suite. For sheer excitement, this was the high spot of the evening, but it also threw into relief the cultured restraint of the main programme.

Patrick Stewart takes command of USS Wigmore

Emanuel Ax, Emma Bell, Patrick Stewart - Wigmore Hall, 28 June 2007

Richard Strauss: Freundliche Vision, Das Rosenband, Nachtgang, Muttertändelei, Morgen, Fünf Klavierstücke Op. 3 (Nos. 1 & 4), Zueignung, Du meines Herzens Krönelein, Traum durch die Dämmerung, Schlechtes Wetter, Enoch Arden Op. 38

What an odd night this was. A real game of two halves, linked by pianist Emanuel Ax and composer Richard Strauss. In the first, we had the fabulous soprano Emma Bell, with a programme of Strauss lieder. And in the second, Patrick Stewart tackled Strauss's rarely performed Enoch Arden, a 'melodrama', or story narrated with piano accompaniment.

Emma Bell's enormous voice and impeccable technical control made everything she sang sound easy, even though much of it really wasn't. The dark edge to her full, bright sound gave the more lyrical pieces colour and depth. The couple of notionally 'comic' songs she tried didn't come off quite as well, her goggle eyed sauciness not enough to rise above the anachronistic humour. I would have preferred if she'd played to her strengths and replaced these with something darker and more dramatic. But her half-length recital still left me wanting more.

Tennyson's poem Enoch Arden is the story of a sailor thought drowned at sea who returns home after several years to find that his wife has remarried. Seeing her contentment, he hides that he is alive and sacrifices his happiness for hers. Richard Strauss composed a fairly scanty piano accompaniment, which appears only at the most dramatic moments. For much of the 45 minute-odd reading of the poem, the piano is silent. When it does come in, it's in snatches of atmospheric themes, not in architecturally-crafted pieces. This music was not designed to stand alone without the text, and it probably couldn't. Seen purely in musical terms, it's almost a failure before it starts. That may be why quite a few seats in the Wigmore Hall emptied at the interval without even giving Patrick Stewart a try.

But if there's anyone who could make even the telephone directory sound interesting, it's Patrick Stewart. It's that rich resonant chocolate velvet voice, a musical instrument in itself. His reading was clear and beautifully paced, and he handled the quaint victorianisms of the text deftly. The story grew more spellbinding as he spun it, with Strauss's cunningly placed piano interludes accentuating the drama, though Emanuel Ax was unfortunately tempted to thunder through some of his accompaniment, nearly drowning out Stewart.

Whatever the quality of the performances though, for most of the time it felt like watching a radio show being made. Recording of course wasn't a real option in Strauss's day, but for a piece with this level of theatrical impact that would be a more sensible home.