Recordings Review: A Show For Our Troubled Times

Opera Saratoga unleashes The Cradle Will Rock.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

The cast of Opera Saratoga's searing new recording of The Cradle Will Rock.
Image © Opera Saratoga and Bridge Classics.

There is no show in the history of New York theater with a more troubled history than The Cradle Will Rock. This hybrid between serious drama, operetta and musical comedy was written in 1937 by composer Marc Blitzstein, only to run smack dab into government bureaucracy, anti-Communist paranoia and union regulations that conspired to kybosh its planned first performance at the Maxine Eliot Theater. (The show had been sponsored by the Federal Theater and the Works Progress Administration, but the theater was padlocked four days before the scheduled premiere.) Mr. Blitzstein took the show, its actors and singers twenty-one blocks  uptown to the Phoenix Theater. There, he led the performances from a stage piano as actors, sitting in the house, sung out their parts on cue.

Concert Review: The Return of the Dazzler

Yuja Wang in recital at Carnegie Hall.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

Yuja Wang. Photo by Xavier Antoinet.
Image © 2013 YujaWang.com.

In the course of this young decade, the pianist Yuja Wang has emerged as one of the most galvanizing artists of the keyboard appearing on concert stages. Her rock-solid virtuosity, brave repertory decisions and habit of playing recitals in a minimal black dress and a dazzling pair of heels have made her a piano celebrity, the kind that comes along once in a generation.

Concert Review: Flash of the Titans

Yefim Bronfman in recital at Carnegie Hall.
by Paul J. Pelkonen

Determination: Yefim Bronfman in concert. 

When the pianist Yefim Bronfman made his entrance at Carnegie Hall on Friday night, it was the start of a heroic confrontation between the burly Russian-born artist and the black Steinway: his vehicle to play sonatas by Haydn, Brahms and Prokofiev.

Opera Review: Hunk City

The new Don Giovanni at the Met.

"Nobody move or the baritone gets it!"
Peter Mattei as Don Giovanni (with knife) threatens Luca Pisaroni's Leporello.
Photo by Marty Sohl © 2011 The Metropolitan Opera.

The Metropolitan Opera's new Don Giovanni has been beset by injuries. First, music director James Levine was replaced by new principal conductor Fabio Luisi. Then the star, rising "bari-hunk" Mariusz Kwiecien injured his back at the dress rehearsal, three days before the premiere.

Luckily, the Met had the also-hunky Peter Mattei on the roster this year, singing Figaro in Il Barbiere di Siviglia.. But with almost no time to prepare, rehearse, or work with Mr. Grandage, Mr. Mattei's vocally handsome performance felt like he had stepped in from another production. That said, he sang a lovely, genuinely seductive "Deh! vieni alla finestra." in the second act, and cut a striking figure in the fiery climax.

With the Don a cipher, the role of leading man falls to Leporello, sung by Luca Pisaroni. Mr. Pisaroni raises the energy level whenever he is onstage. The servant is as lecherous as his master, played with a curiously moral core that is straight out of Beaumarchais. Mr. Pisaroni brought a raw vitality to the proceedings, and has the makings of a great Don himself.

Michael Grandage's direction has the singers manage the negative space between their characters. The air seems to crackle between the pairs: Ottavio and Anna, Masetto and Zerlina. The opera's best couple? The disguised Leporello (posing as the Don) and Donna Elvira, played as a slightly manic stalker by the talented Barbara Frittoli. 

Don Ottavio is the weakest character in this opera. (Mr. Grandage compensated by arming him heavily.) Ramón Vargas' best weapon though, was his voice, a smooth, supple tenor that sang Ottavio's two difficult arias without seeming to pause for breath. The "optional" Act II aria  "Il mio tesero" was outstanding, with all of the ornamentation brought out and shining. 

Two young sopranos make their Met debuts in this run. Marina Rebeka sang "Non mi dir" with control and strong, if slightly shrill tone. At least she made Donna Anna more than a one-note character. Mojca Erdmann was a Zerlina from the coquette school, with a voice too small for the cavernous house. As Masetto Mr. Bloom, (a budding bari-hunk), made the most of playing a wife-beating shmo. Stefan Kocán's serviceable Commendatore would be better without the amplified echo on his voice in the graveyard scene. 

This is an urban Don Giovanni. The streets of Seville are presented on Christopher Oram's rotating set, consisting of high, curved tiers of multi-colored, louvred doors, each with its own balcony. (It looks like a seedy motel.) Occasionally, the "motel" opens to reveal a large courtyard, used for the wedding reception, the cemetery, and the Don's villa. The best visual: during the Catalogue Song, when all the doors open to reveal the Don's conquests in a manner reminiscent of Bartók's Bluebeard's Castle.  

Conducting from the harpsichord (and playing the continuo himself) Fabio Luisi made a case for his recent promotion, alternating between light comedy and the orchestral firestorm in the opera's climactic scene. The hellfire whooshed out of the stage, threatening to incinerate Mr. Pisaroni as Mr. Mattei was dragged down through a hole in the floor. But Mr. Luisi proved that the real heat was in Mozart's music, not in rock concert special effects.

Opera Review: Tenor Saves Tosca From Flying Leap

 Sondra Radvanovsky as Tosca, Falk Struckmann as Scarpia in Act II of Tosca.
Photo by Ken Howard, © 2011 Metropolitan Opera.

The Metropolitan Opera audience at Monday night's first Tosca of the season got a welcome surprise before the curtain went up. Sondra Radvanovsky was scheduled to make her debut in the title role opposite Argentinean tenor Marcelo Àlvarez. But Mr. Àlvarez was benched with a cold, so Roberto Alagna (currently singing a run of Carmen at the Big House) was summoned to sing his first Cavaradossi at Lincoln Center.

Mr. Alagna's presence and onstage energy gave an unexpected lift to the proceedings. From his first "Recondiata armonia" to the final act, he was a compelling Cavaradossi, focusing on the character's human side and his relationship with La Tosca. He pushed his instrument for "Vittoria" and the heavy, declamatory singing following the torture scene in Act II. He did much better in the third act, singing an emotional, effective "E lucevan le stelle." Mr. Alagna took a smart, conservative approach to this famous aria, stretching out the long note on "Tanto la vita" to exciting effect.

Sondra Radvanovsky has the tools to make a great Tosca in the tradition of Carol Vaness. She walks the role with the proper diva attitude, sailing into Luc Bondy's ugly church set and captivating the audience with her opening trio of "Mario's". She established immediate chemistry with Mr. Alagna as they sang their love music, overcoming slow tempos and dim lighting. And she reacted with proper gelosia to the machinations of Scarpia (the effective, if harsh-voiced German bass Falk Struckmann.)

Ms. Radvanovsky was magnetic in the second act. Confronting the creepy Scarpia of Falk Struckmann (who plays Scarpia as a bad guy left out of Inglourious Basterds) Ms. Radnovovsky made the audience forget about the ugly IKEA furniture and linoleum floor that stood in for the Palazzo Farnese. Her "Vissi d'arte" was sung with emotion, plunging to the depths of despair at her situation.

The murder scene had all the necessary vocal venom, vicious knife-work and some fine physical acting from Mr. Struckmann as a convincing corpse. In the last bars, she tossed off "Scarpia, avanti al dio!" with fire and finesse before taking a flying (or in this production, a falling) leap from Mr. Bondy's giant brick tower.

Speaking of Mr. Bondy, the director returned to the Met to put his stamp back on this production after the disastrous debut last September. Certain bits that were objectionable in the first run of this Tosca were toned down. Scarpia touches the hem and strokes the cheek of the Virgin Mary instead of humping the statue outright. Tosca still thinks about jumping out the window at the end of Act II. And the flying leap from the tower was tweaked yet again, changed to a perfectly acceptable "falling" effect that made a realistic final stage picture before the quick black curtain. This is still a flawed Tosca. But it's getting better. Besides, with a strong cast like this, the focus is on the singers, not the director.

Concert Review: Out With the New, In With the Old

Alan Gilbert. Photo © 2010 by Chris Lee

The final New York Philharmonic subscription program of 2010 was to feature two new compositions and a rare work by Paul Hindemith. But Sunday's blizzard forced New York's oldest orchestra to cancel its Monday rehearsal, removing all three works from the program. Luckily, the orchestra had last-minute replacements ready to go, and presented a full, entertaining program of beloved classical works from the 18th, 19th, and 20th centuries.


Although The Nutcracker is among the most frequently performed ballets in the repertory, it's not every day that you get to hear this music played by an orchestra of this caliber. Alan Gilbert and company offered an unusual arrangement of the Suite. The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy was dropped. In its place, the complete  Divertissement offered, including the Spanish Dance and the frenzied Mother Gigogne and the Clowns among the more familiar excerpts.

The excellent Philharmonic woodwinds were to the fore for the Arabian and Chinese Dances, not to mention the Dance of the Toy Flutes. The band played the Waltz of the Flowers with sweep and elegance.  producing crisp, clean textures made this familiar music sound fresh.

The same vigor went into the opening one-two punch of the Polonaise from Tchaikovsky's opera Eugene Onegin and the Valse Triste, a Sibelius work that depicts a dance with death. The Onegin excerpt was an energetic curtain raiser with fine playing from the Philharmonic brass. Mr. Gilbert produced eloquent old-world dance rhythms from his orchestra, with fine string playing leading the way in the Sibelius piece.

The second half of the program opened with Vivaldi's Concerto for Four Violins, featuring members of the Philharmonic's two violin sections playing the delicate, interwoven solo parts. Leading a stripped-down baroque-size orchestra, Mr. Gilbert made Vivaldi's music sound curiously modern and minimalist, a possible blueprint for the work of Philip Glass and Steve Reich.

The full orchestra returned for an effective pairing of Debussy and Ravel. The Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune was taken at a very slow tempo, stretching the fabric of Debussy's music and revealing new aspects of the score to the careful listener. Bolero, Ravel's crescendo of "anti-music" gave the whole orchestra a chance to show their stuff at ever-increasing volume. Mr. Gilbert maintained careful control over the dynamics of the piece, and conducted a performance of the utmost clarity, precision and power.

Strauss Relief: Five Great Recordings

Richard Strauss

Richard Strauss is in the news this week, with the City Opera reviving Intermezzo, the composer's 1924 opera based loosely on his own life. It's about a conductor and his troubles with his quarrelsome wife. Strauss wrote the libretto himself.

Strauss was a brilliant orchestrator, a master of the tone poem and one of the most important German opera composers of the early 20th century. Here's a look at five of the best representations of Strauss' output on disc. And I picked these 'cos they're my five favorite Strauss compositions.

THE TONE POEMS:
Also Sprach Zarathustra
The 1969 film 2001: A Space Odyssey made the three-note opening of Zarathustra one of the most recognizable moments in music. There's only one definitive recording, made in 1959, by Herbert von Karajan with the Vienna Philharmonic. This is the one that was in the movie. Accept no substitutes. It is bundled with good performances of three other works: Till Eulenspiegel, Don Juan, and the Dance of the Seven Veils from the opera Salome.


Ein Alpensinfonie
Strauss' other Nietzche-inspired tone poem is an account of a 22-movement journey up and Alp, and then down as the hikers are chased by a raging thunderstorm and a 150-piece orchestra. There are a number of recordings, but this 2001 offering by the Vienna Philharmonic under Christian Thielemann has more depth of detail and nuance than the others.


THE OPERAS:
Der Rosenkavalier
Strauss' bourgeois comedy of manners has many find representations on disc. The best modern recording features the Dresden Staatskapelle under the baton of Bernard Haitink. This EMI set preserves Anne Sofie von Otter's great interpretation of Octavian. Kiri Te Kanawa is a tremendous presence as the Marschallin, and Kurt Rydl is a marvelously funny Baron Ochs. The recording is in fine stereo, and is completely uncut.


Die Frau Ohne Schatten
Sir Georg Solti's last major opera recording with the Vienna Philharmonic. This Frau was released at the end of an era, when superstar conductors got high-end orchestras and all-star casts together to record the greatest lesser-known works of the catalogue.

Here, the complex score of Frau is presented uncut and in luminous sound. There is no better way to learn Strauss' most difficult and uplifting opera than this fine three-disc set, which reveals the layers of orchestration and vocal writing in exquisite detail.

Ariadne auf Naxos
This Deutsche Grammophon recording was the last opera recording made by Italian maestro Giuseppe Sinopoli. Although it remained in limbo for a number of years following a contract dispute, the maestro's untimely death (in the pit while conducting Aida in Berlin) paved the way for its posthumous release. He was blessed with the Dresden Staatskapelle, an orchestra which truly loves Strauss. The cast features Deborah Voigt in the title role and the crystalline Natalie Dessay in the hellishly difficult role of Zerbinetta.

DVD Review: Night Of the Comet

The post-apocalyptic Baden-Baden Parsifal.

by Paul Pelkonen

Gurnemanz (Matti Salminen) presides over the devastation in Act I of Parsifal.Image © 2006 OpusArte/Baden-Baden Festival

The composer Richard Wagner once said, "Children, go do something new!" This new 3-DVD set, which captures Nikolaus Lehnhoff's remarkable production of Parsifal, filmed here on a good night in Baden-Baden takes the composer at his word. Lehnhoff is not the first director to stage a post-apocalyptic version of the Grail legend, but this desolate production (also seen at Covent Garden and the San Francisco Opera) is chillingly effective.

DVD Review: The Golden Ring

It's Vagner Veek again at Superconductor, where the focus is almost exclusively on the music of the Meister of Bayreuth. No, there won't be a review of the Met's Tristan revival. (Illness made it impossible for us to attend the opening last night) but there will be articles, comments and other stuff that's more exciting than an ordinary opera review. Here goes....



The Golden Ring is a 90 minute black-and-white BBC documentary chronicling the recording of the first-ever studio Götterdämmerung in Vienna in 1964. Directed by Humphrey Burton, the movie captures the pressure and stress of opera in the studio, broken down into ten-minute segments and recorded ata breakneck pace. The sessions caught here were part of an eight-year project, during which the Decca engineers (led by John Culshaw) and the Vienna Philharmonic (led by a young Georg Solti) recorded the entirety of Wagner's Ring cycle for release in stereo. (Rheingold was recorded in '58, Siegfried in '60. A 1966 Walküre completed the cycle.)

The Solti Ring, as it is known to collectors, is considered to be one of the finest Wagner recordings--and one of the finest opera recordings--ever made. Working with the early stereo format, the engineers hung microphones over the recording space and moved the singers around on the stage, panning their voices to the left and to the right. Vocal effects and audio effects allowed the engineers, using analog equipment, to create a "theater of the mind" that would give the listener the illusion of experiencing the events of the opera in a different way than one would in the opera house. In addition to transforming voices through the use of distant microphones and isolation booths, Culshaw and company stuck closely to the letter of Wagner's work, using 18 tuned anvils, alphorn, lead blocks, and in Götterdämmerung, steer-horns to complete the aural illusion.

The documentary captures much of this frenzied activity. You sit in on orchestral rehearsals, watch the singers make "test" recordings, and then see the final, recorded performances. Birgit Nilsson (Brunnhilde) falls victim to a memorable practical joke. Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau discusses the problems with Wagner the person versus Wagner the composer. We visit a cocktail party in the producers' apartment, built right above the studio.Solti (nicknamed the "Screaming Skull" during hiis Covent Garden tenure) yells at the Vienna Philharmonic. All that is very interesting, but the real glory here is the performance, with Gottlob Frick's black-voiced Hagen, Wolfgang Windgassen's experienced Siegfried, and Nilsson's indomitable Brunnhilde.

This is an important document, but the DVD release has two drawbacks. One is the poor source quality, a worn-out, damaged video tape that shows white lines and silver squiggles on the image. Worse yet is the sketchy mono sound which becomes scratchy when the orchestra kicks into full Wagnerian gear. If you want to hear these performances for real, get the recordings on LP or CD. But then, see this film--it is an interesting inside look at an era of opera recording long since passed.

Click here HERE to watch a clip from The Golden Ring--the scene where Birgit Nilsson gets pranked. Then watch her sing magnificently in the Immolation Scene from Götterdämmerung.

Opera Review: Drop That Anvil!

The Met brings back Barbiere.
by Paul Pelkonen
The Metropolitan Opera's revival of Bartlett Sher's whirligig production of Il Barbiere di Siviglia isn't quite on the same level as its premiere in 2006. While the cheerful insanity and Looney Tunes physics remain intact, the production missed the presence of super-tenor Juan Diego Flórez and his effortless mastery of the difficult role of Almaviva.

Anvil, anvil in the sky...Act I of Il Barbiere di Siviglia. Photo by Ken Howard 2009 The Metropolitan Opera

Here, his replacement is Jose Manuel Zapata, who is simply not in the same league. His voice is lyric, with a sweet timbre when at mezzo voce. But when he adds volume, it pinches in his upper register, producing an unpleasant sound. (Happily, Zapata elected to skip Cessa di piu resistere, the murderously difficult Act II rondo , a standard cut.)

Franco Vassallo was a characterful Figaro--a bit too mannered in "Largo al factotum" but good at the comic business the role calls for. The way he plays the barber, you wonder if Rosina would be better off marrying a man with his own haircutting emporium.

That particular redhead was in very good voice on Monday night, well sung and acted by Latvian mezzo Elìna Garanča. She sang in the authentic Rossinian manner, hitting lovely highs and characterful low notes. Maurizio Muraro was a good-natured, bumbling Bartolo. Ruggerio Raimondi, making a rare Met appearance wwas a fine Basilio. His sonorous low notes in "La Calunia"" and comic timing in the Act II quintet were highlights of the evening.

This spare staging traded in the big rotating house-set for sliding, moving door-frames, mobile orange trees and odd moments of Looney Tunes physics. Other than that, the stage is mostly bare and extends out over and around the orchestra pit. This brings the singers closer to the audience (well, the orchestra and the parterre boxes) but causes balance problems with the sound.

Silly anvil, you can't fly!" Act I of Il Barbiere di Siviglia. Photo by Ken Howard. © 2009 The Metropolitan Opera.

There exists a (false) perception that Rossini is "easy" to conduct. That wasn't the case for stick-waver Frédéric Chaslin. He seemed to be having an awfully good time in the orchestra pit, but this was an inconsistent performance. The problems began with the first, wobbly chords. The overture was undermined by sloppy brass playing and ragged meters.

Apparently, Chaslin believes that fast tempos are somehow "funnier" (also false) so he barreled ahead, ignoring precision and textures in pursuit of an opera buffa ideal. Worse yet, the addition of clangy, distracting (and frequently, off-the-beat) percussion made the usually taut Met orchestra sound like an Italian town band after a few too many bottles of Chianti.

The lowlight of the evening: the addition of "Spanish" flamenco guitar embellishments to "Se il mio nome." That led to to an distracting shout of "¡Olé!" (from somewhere either onstage, in the pit or in the house) that nearly killed this lovely little aria. Completely unnecessary.

Piano Pleasures: John Ogdon and the Busoni Concerto

Ferruccio Busoni. From the Library of Congress,
Prints and Photographs Division, George Grantham Bain Collection

Ferruccio Busoni (1866-1924) was a titan of the early 20th century. He stands at a crossroads: the end of Romanticism and the start of modern neo-Classicism. Italian-born but German-trained, Busoni was a virtuoso composer/pianist, armed with a colossal technique forged in the fiery furnaces of Bach, Beethoven and Chopin. His music is often complex to the point of obtusity, necessitating repeated listens to assimilate everything this Faustian artist was trying to say.


There are some big piano concertos in the concert repertory. But the Busoni work, like its creator, was a real original-- a five-movement megatherium lasting an hour and ten minutes. Busoni required a huge orchestra, a nimble soloist, and even a male chorus, in the final movement. This last had never been done in a piano concerto. When Busoni fell out of fashion following his death, the concerto went with him. It was long seen as a white elephant, a work whose very complexity defied performance. Worst of all, its solo part is hellishly difficult, but not flashy, Virtuoso players still avoid it today.

John Ogdon (1937-1989) was a titan among pianists. Throughout his erratic career, this ebullient virtuoso specialized in "unplayable" composers like Scriabin, Sorabji, Alkan and of course, Busoni. He played with a mix of delicate filigree and elemental power, and was ideally suited to champion the composer's lone piano concerto. Ogdon recorded this work at Abbey Road Studios in June of 1967 studios. It was an exciting session. Pink Floyd occupied one recording studio, working on The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Ogdon and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra had to face a series of musical challenges. Not the least was having the session's conductor, Daniell Revenaugh, "temporarily borrowed" by Paul McCartney to complete orchestral parts on Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

John Ogdon recording at Abbey Road Studios, 1967.
© 2007 The John Ogdon Foundation

In the middle of all this psychedelic activity, Ogdon, Revenaugh and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra worked their own kind of magic. Ogdon skates through the first four movements with jaw-dropping ease. He plays with power and restraint, working with and not against the orchestra, blending into the thick contrapuntal textures before soaring above the orchestra in a burst of virtuoso fireworks. Revenaugh (who made no other major commercial recordings as a conductor) leads the huge score in a stirring, confident performance. The wordless choral finale (sung by the male voices of the John Alldis Choir) is a stunning final effect.

Happily, this recording is still in the EMI catalogue. It is available as a stand-alone piece on a single budget disc. Better yet, the Ogden recording was reissued in 1998 as part of a two-CD set, Vol. 72 in the Great Pianists of the 20th Century . (This is a series of 100 two-disc DigiPaks celebrating the importance of piano music. Mostly, it's pretty good.) Here, the Busoni Concerto is accompanied by the Variations and Fugue on Chopin's Prelude in c minor, a playful, yet technically challenging work. Recorded in 1960, its inclusion here proves to be an entertaining prelude to the Concerto itself. The set also includes an interesting performance of the Alkan Concerto pour piano seul along with works by Scriabin and Rachmaninoff.

DVD Review: Horse Opera

Susan Graham as Didon in Les Troyens.

Les Troyens from the Théâtre de Chatelet.
by Paul J. Pelkonen
No French opera has had a more difficult road to the stage than Les Troyens, the five-act magnum opus of Hector Berlioz. Based on Virgil's Aeneid, (with a libretto written by the composer) Troyens went through as many trials and tribulations as its titular heroes.

In2003, the Théâtre de Chatelet honored the 100th anniversary of Berlioz' birth, by giving the long-overdue Paris premiere of the full five-act version of the opera, played in one evening (with no cuts) as the composer intended.

Troyens has been dogged by bad reputation and worse luck. At the opera's 1863 premiere, the producers split the five acts into two nights, and then dropped the first half (The Sack of Troy) entirely. The five-act version did not premiere until 1890. These performances reinforce the brilliance of Berlioz' sweeping design.

Part One: The Sack of Troy mirrors the eventual fate of the Carthaginians at the hands of the Romans.Cassandra, (Anna Caterina Antonacci), the Trojan prophetess, has a spiritual sister in Didon (Susan Graham), the love-struck Carthaginian queen. (It is not a coincidence that both characters commit suicide onstage.) Énée (Gregory Kunde) is caught in the middle, torn between Trojan survivors' guilt, his genuine love for Didon, and the voices of the Trojan dead, urging him to sail for Italy and found the Roman state.

Opera Review: Down I Go

David Daniels as Orfeo.
Photo by Marty Sohl © 2007 The Metropolitan Opera.

The dress rehearsal of Orfeo et Euridice at the Met.
As part of my subscription for the 2007-2008 season (more on what I'm seeing in a future edition of this blog) I was lucky enough to get tickets for the Monday dress rehearsal of Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice, one of the hottest tickets in the final weeks of the spring opera season. I know that we critic types aren't realy supposed to write about dress rehearsals, bit it was such a significant performance that I am going to share my thoughts below. Yes the review is running a little late, but, here it is. Enjoy.


The star of this new Orfeo is the superb countertenor of David Daniels. Daniels specializes in baroque opera, singing with a high-pitched "head voice" (not unlike Jon Anderson of the rock band Yes). In 1997, his performance as Arsamene in Handel's Xerxes at the City Opera (opposite Lorraine Hunt Lieberson) was almost single-handedly responsible for the baroque opera revival that New York has enjoyed in the last ten years. Ms. Lieberson was originally supposed to sing Orfeo in this new Met production. She died last year, and Daniels stepped in to sing her commitments. The production is dedicated to her memory.




Gluck's opera retells an ancient myth, one of death and rebirth. Orpheus is the greatest musician the world has ever known. When his wife dies, he goes down into the Underworld to reclaim her. Unfortunately, he disobeys the edict of the Greek gods and looks at and speaks to Eurydice. When he does, she is lost to him forever. The opera adds a happy deus ex machina ending, where Eros restores the lovers to life. Historically, Orfeo marked a turning point for opera, away from the filigrees of the baroque era and toward the clean classicism of Mozart and Haydn.

David Daniels gives a powerful performance in the title role, with notes of Elvis and Buddy Holly in this modern staging. His countertenor remains a smooth-flowing, flexible instrument that can negotiate the highest parts of Handel and Gluck with dizzying speed and accuracy. Heidi Grant Murphy, descending (literally) from the heavens, brought perk and energy to the role of Amor, the God of Love who makes all things possible. Latvian soprano Maija Kovalevska blended well with Daniels as Euridice.

The new production is spare, with choristers arranged on three stadium tiers above the action, commenting and singing like an old-fashioned Greek chorus. They are dressed as various historical figures, from Queen Elizabeth I and Abe Lincoln to Babe Ruth and John Lennon. The Met's choral forces were a powerful storm surge in this opera. Mention must also be made of the ballet forces. Director/choreograher Mark Morris created challenging choreography to dance, and they made the most of this ballet-heavy opera. James Levine led an exuberant reading of the score in the pit.

Concert Review: Sakari Oramo conducts Shostakovich and Sibelius

Thursday Night's New York Philharmonic concert featured Shostakovich's Violin Concerto No. 1, a difficult composition that requires both athletic and musical ability from its soloist, in this case the Georgian violinist Lisa Batiashvili. Led by Finnish maestro Sakari Oramo (currently the principal conductor of the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra), it was perfectly paired with two Sibelius compositions that evoked the power and spirit of the Finnish woods.

Composed in 1947-48, the First Violin Concerto is, like many major orchestral works from Shostakovich's pen, a series of mixed and coded messages. Bitiashvili attempted to decode the work for the audience, and for the most part she succeeded. The concerto's somber opening echoes the composer's emotional torment. Having survived the Second World War he still lived in terror of the Soviet government. featured mournful legato phrases, melting into each other in a cry from the heart. Exceptional playing and phrasing made this a compelling opening, ably supported by Oramo and the orchestra.

Literally living in fear of another Soviet artistic purge, Shostakovich was, understandably, reluctant to make political or personal statements in his work. They are present but hidden in the codes of the music, in the choice of a manic scherzo or a grim passacaglia movement. This concerto, written for 20th century violin virtuoso David Oistrakh) contains both, shot through with some exceptionally difficult violin writing. Lisa Batiashvili played with energy and vigor, never forgetting the emotional pathos which is at the core of all great Shostakovich works.

The second half of the concert featured the music of Jean Sibelius, the great Finnish composer. His Sixth Symphony is the most cheerful of Sibelius' seven essays in that genre. (OK, it's Sibelius so it's not exactly milk and cookies but the Sixth seems to avoid the obsession with death and self-destruction that characterized much of that composer's work.) This is a pastoral composition, evoking the lighter side of the Finnish wilderness, traipsing through the great forests of the north with a sunny outlook and cheerful orchestral colorings expressed through the use of church modes instead of the more conventional key system.

Here, the Sixth served as perfect counterpoint to Tapiola a powerful invocation of the dark side of forest living. The piece is named after Tapio, the god of the forests who appears in the Kalevala, Finland's national epic. Sakari Oramo conducted with vigor and a strong sense of rhythm. The big gestures were played with punch and power, but none of the magnificent little details were missed. From the carefree passages of the Sixth to the terrifying arctic wind that cuts through the final pages of Tapiola, this was an excellent interpretation of Finland's national composer.
Photo: Sakari Oramo in action. © 2006 Warner Classics

DVD Review: Das Rheingold--When The Bough Breaks...

At the start of this Das Rheingold, Wotan (Falk Struckmann) appears on a mirror-black stage before the mighty World-Ash tree, and breaks off a branch to fashion into his spear. This act, which Wagner described (but did not stage) in Götterdämmerung starts what one might call an "environmental" Ring Cycle, a heavy-handed (though in some ways brilliant) staging of the operatic cycle in Barcelona, courtesy of German director Harry Kupfer.

Kupfer has staged multiple Rings in this same post-apocalyptic manner since 1988--his superb cycle for Bayreuth has just been released by Rhino DVD. So is this new Rheingold (filmed at the Gran Teatre del Liceu in 2004) worth the time taken to watch it? The answer is, yes, if only to see what new wrinkles have been added to his "comic books meet Mad Max" style. Here, the action of the opera is set before a gigantic grating that looks like a cross between the Met's Don Carlos and Disney's Tron. Much of the opera features the heavy roots of the World-Ash, and the journey to Nibelheim is down an enormous plastic mineshaft--emblematic of the violation of the natural order which is a central theme to this production.

In the pit, Bertrand de Billy gives a transparent, Boulez-style reading of the score that never lingers. He leads the Symphony Orchestra of the Gran Teatre del Liceu with a brisk, energetic style that is in keeping with this whole production's comic-book spirit.

Gunther von Kannen reprises his terrifying Alberich, his cavernous baritone is in good shape here. His opposite number Falk Struckmann--who sings well enough but seems eager to expose the character's vulnerabilities. We never get a chance to like this Wotan before quickly learning what a jerk he is. His fellow gods sing well, particularly Lioba Braun as Fricka and Andrea Bönig as Erda. In a marvelous twist, Erda does not pop out of the ground, but pulls Wotan down to her subterranean cavern to address him like some mad Versailles dowager.

Fasolt and Fafner brandish huge mechanical claw arms and catepillar treads like an operatic Transformer robot. But it's hard to love a robot, and where is the pathos in Fafner's transformation into a dragon if he starts the story as some kind of cyborg monster? Also, the singers seem "switched"--the harsher tones of Youn are better suited to Fafner. The more mellifluous, round-edged bass of Matthias Hölle would sound great singing Fasolt's "Freia" arietta in the second scene--something he did on the aforementioned Bayreuth version.

Loge can often make or break a Rheingold and Graham Clark is terrific. Here he puts a fresh, maniacal spin on the fire-god. ne expects him to burn the theater down with his nervous energy. It is his job to look the audience in the eye at the opera's close, pulling the curtain shut as the egotistical Gods ascend into their new home, strewing confetti and glitter on themselves as they proceed to their eventual doom.

Photos: (top) Falk Struckmann (center, with spear) directs traffic in a post-Apocalyptic Das Rheingold.
(bottom) Wotan (Falk Struckmann) is menaced by Fricka (Lioba Braun).
© 2005 Antonio Bofill/Opus Arte.

Concert Review: Kurt Masur at the Philharmonic

Disclaimer: OK, dear reader. I admit it. I'm biased. I like Kurt Masur. I've interviewed him--an interesting man to talk to who is thoroughly passionate about music. And Masur was a formative conductor for me--the music director when I was completing my education and starting my professional career. In my Citysearch days, the New York Philharmonic was the first NY arts organization to give me a leg up (read: free tickets and press seats) so I've probably reviewed more Masur performances than any conductor except maybe James Levine at the Met. Hearing him conduct is for, this writer, a bit like coming home. It also might make me sound a bit biased in this review but *shrug* it's my blog so I'll gush if I want to.

Kurt Masur returned to the New York Philharmonic last night, bringing his baton-less style back to the orchestra that he led from 1991 to 2002. On the program, a Mendelssohn overture, Sibelius' violin concerto, and Tchaikovsky's Pathetique Symphony, a work I know from records even though I'd never seen it performed in concert. Funny how you avoid works that are associated with tragedy and death, but no longer. The concert opened with a salty rendition of theHebrides Overture, a ten-minute evocation of the Scottish coast which is also known as Fingal's Cave.

This was followed by Sibelius' Violin Concerto, a work that, like all Sibelius' major pieces, speaks volumes about its native Finland--while allowing the soloist plenty of room to display his virtuosity. That soloist, Sergey Kachatryan, played with a deft command of his instrument, racing from low strings to the highest positions, navigating the supremely difficult cadenza of the first movement with skill and focus. The adagio was beautifully played, with a lyric touch that isn't always associated with Sibelius. And the finale, like all critics I have to tip my hat to Donald Tovey, who called it "A polonaise of polar bears") was a joyful romp, expertly underpinned and accompanied by Masur and the

The Pathetique Symphony, (the title means "full of pathos", not "pathetic") premiered in 1893, nine days before the composer's untimely death. (He contracted cholera from drinking a glass of tainted water--no one knows if it was suicide.) This is his sixth symphony, a dark, programmatic piece, where the usual Tchaikovskian blend of ebullience and emotion is tinted in the key of b minor, keeping the proceedings grim throughout. In its bleak outlook, the symphony predicts the coming of Mahler and his heroic works--particularly that composer's own Sixth Symphony--the Tragic.

This performance harnessed the raging torrent of the Philharmonic's famous brass section, particularly the trombones, led by Joseph Alessi and the horns led by Philip Myers. Special mention must also be made of the woodwinds--The introduction with bassoons and clarinets was marvelously played. The big romantic main theme from the first movement (which recalls the Act II "Flower Song" from Bizet's Carmen) soared on its own wings, contrasting with the raging central section of the movement. The two central dance movements were nimbly played, with that characteristic rhythm-snap that Masur brings to the podium. In the finale, the torrent ceased to a trickle of cellos, finally fading into nothingness.
Photo © Chris Lee/New York Philharmonic/kurtmasur.com

DVD Review: Up the Blue Nile

Robert Wilson's Aida comes to DVD.
by Paul Pelkonen.

Mark Doss as Amonasro and Norma Fantini in Act III of Aida. Photo © 2007 Opus Arte

Sometimes impulse purchases have wonderful results. In this case, my curiosity about Robert Wilson's conception for "Aida"--and how the director, known for his stylized gestures and near-empty stage sets would approach this most crowded of Verdi operas. Would Wilson's near-uniform style of acting and directing--stylized hand movements, kabuki-like makeup and ultra-slow stage movement--mesh at all with the red-blooded world of Verdi's mythical "Egyptian business"?

The answer is, yes they do--sorta. Wilson keeps things simple in this visual presentation, using just enough in the way of visual reminders to tell the viewer that they are, in fact, in Egypt. His Egypt, with deep indigos, blues and blacks substituting for the usual desert colors. The three pyramids at Giza are picked out as chrome frameworks that suggest visual depth.

The Nile is a blue stripe across the all-black stage. And the Egyptians move like tomb paintings come to life--the clear inspiration for Wilson's hand-gestures and stylized movements. It is refreshing, for me anyway, to subtract the usual sandstone clutter and King Tut bling that is usually found in this opera.

The fact that there is less to look at highlights the singers, who are pretty good--not great. Norma Fantini's Aida is the best of the lot: elegant and regal, capturing much subtlety with her eyes and facial movements, especially when she is out of Amneris' line of sight. Her two big arias are beautifully rendered.

Ildiko Komlosi is ice-cold and regal in this part--no wonder Radames finds her tough to love. The facade cracks in the big Act IV scena. Mark Doss is an excellent, passionate Amonasro--he recalls a young Simon Estes. Only tenor Marco Berti seems out of place--but as Radames is essentially a passive character this doesn't necessarily kill the evening.

Kazushi Ono takes the brisk, lucid approach to conducting this score, managing the tricky choral ensembles and tempii with skill and a steady Verdian beat, building up to the occasional explosive "thump" on the bass drum.

Opera Review: The Doge Rises, The Statue Falls

Figlia! Thomas Hampson hugs Angela Gheorghiu
in Act I of Simon Boccanegra.
Photo by Marty Sohl © 2007 The Metropolitan Opera.

The Met revives Simon Boccanegra.
We were at the Met last night to catch the revival of the company's excellent revival of Giancarlo del Monaco's 1995 staging of Verdi's Simon Boccanegra. Ably conducted by Fabio Luisi and anchored by a stellar portrayal by Thomas Hampson, this was an emotional reading of this underperformed opera.

The star of the evening was Angela Gheorgiu, who grabbed the audience's attention as Amelia and proceeded to bring out the warmth and depth of Verdi's heroine. She blended well with Hampson, and the two generated real emotional pathos in the "Figlia" duet.

Hampson was a multifaceted Doge--a loving father, a thundering statesman and finally a dying martyr. This is a very complicated part and he was able to portray Simon with dignity and vocal versatility. His "O patrizi, plebei" made the arches of the Met's massive Council Chamber resonate, his agony while dying in the third act was almost painful to watch.

Mention must also be made of Marcello Giordani, who made the most of the underwritten tenor part of Gabriel Adorno. I have never seen this part this well portrayed--not as a tenor afterthought but as a character almost as complicated as Boccanegra himself.

Ferrucio Furlanetto was a vocally imposing Fiesco, nailing all of the killer bass notes in "Il lacerato spirito" but coming off more as a kindly uncle than a proud nobleman hell-bent on revenge. Vassily Gerello had some rough spots in the prologue--he plays the key role of Paolo, the opera's real villain, and gets the job of telling the audience what the hell is going on in the opera. However, Gerello evened out and sang very well in Acts 2 and 3.

That production has held up pretty well, although the image of the angry Genoese mob pulling down a statue in the opening prologue--once meant to portray the death of Communism, eerily recalled events in Iraq following the fall of Saddam Hussein. As it often is at the Met, the massive sets require that intermissions be at odd times (between the Prologue and Act One?) which makes the evening longer than necessary. But these are minor quibbles.

Brahms Away

Last night, the New York Philharmonic opened their 2007 Brahms festival with a performance of the composer's Serenade No. 1 for Large Orchestra and the mighty Piano Concerto No. 1 in d minor. These two works are roughly contemperaneous with each other, written starting in the 1850s, a period when Brahms was overcoming his doubts about succeeding Beethoven in the world of Viennese serious music--and starting to explore working with an orchestra. In fact, if the Seranade had four movements and a more regular structure, it might qualify as a symphony, as it is, it is an interesting hybrid.
In this Serenade, which is among his first major orchestral compositions, the young Brahms juxtaposed the the stormy romanticism of Beethoven with the courtly formalities of Mozart. It is a six-movement work, with multiple dance movements or scherzi, a baroque structure that is used to express a distinctly classical idiom, in a romantic, yet conservative style. In other words, it is unmistakeably Brahms.
Brahms' influences are clearly visible on his sleeve in this composition--yet his own voice is apparent as well: the whole is underpinned by a thick, textured harmonic sensibility. This is a Brahms trademark. Lorin Maazel led an energetic performance, bringing out the power and muscle of this piece but allowing the beauty of the woodwind writing and careful string figures to shine through. The Philharmonic's powerhouse horn section (led, as always, by principal horn Philip Myers) is to be commended for their superb playing.
The second half of the program featured Emanuel Ax at the soloist in the d minor concerto. Lorin Maazel conducted a robust, juicy performance, the big chords of the opening theme echoing against the delicate second theme, Ax was accurate and passionate at the keyboard, racing through the difficult passages in the big first movement, even snapping a string on his piano towards its close. The second movement moved with lyrical grace, bringing forth the composer's evocation of the beauties of the natural world. The finale was a race between piano and orchestra, blazing through the final rondo with the occasional foray into Bach-like fugue along the way. The difficult final cadenzas were played with energy and skill, and conductor and soloist blazed home through the final coda.

Concert Review: Beethoven 5, Sibelius 4

The Minnesota Orchestra at Carnegie Hall 

Conductor Osmo Vänskä.

Thanks to the 11th-hour generosity of my uncle, we found ourselves in possession of tickets to Carnegie Hall (again!) on Wednesday night. We ventured out in the snow to see the Minnesota Orchestra play symphonic works by Sibelius and Beethoven, the former's Fourth Symphony and the latter's mighty Fifth. Osmo Vänskä conducted.

The program opened with In Memoriam, a Sibelius symphonic poem commemorating the death of Finnish freedom fighter Eugene Schauman. Schauman assassinated General Nikolay Bobrikov, a harsh administrator appointed to rule Finland by Tsar Nicholas II. Shortly after assassinatin Bobrikov, Schauman took his own life. In his memory, Sibelius composed a dark, funereal piece, in which the influence of Gustav Mahler (particularly the Fifth Symphony) can be clearly heard.

This was followed by the equally serious Fourth Symphony, a work written during a period when Sibelius thought that he was battling with throat cancer. It is one of Sibelius' darkest compositions, asking many musical questions but not necessarily resolving itself. Mr. Vänskä produced exceptional clarity of sound from his Minnesota forces, who may have brought the bad weather with them but were nonetheless welcome on the Carnegie stage.

The second half of the concert featured a vigorous reading of Beethoven's famous Fifth. Mr. Vänskä made intelligent performance decisions, maintaining Beethoven's rhythmic figures while providing welcome surprises to the ear. The third movement was taken at a brisk, energetic pace.

The ascending figures at the end of the movement created a sense of anticipation, setting up the explosive theme that opens the finale. The last movement--one of Beethoven's most exhilarating, was both bright and triumphant. Mr. Vänskä is currently recording the nine Beethoven symphonies for BIS--this may be a cycle worth looking forward to when it is complete.