The David S Operaworld blog

A series of commentary on the world of opera and of serious music hopefully with links to items of broader cultural interest, correlation with the subject at hand. There is plenty of room here for a certain amount of clowning around and general irreverence - not exclusive to me - but of course no trollers or spam please. Blog for coverage of the BBC PROMS 2010 - with thoroughly proofread/upgraded coverage of the 2009 Proms and of much else.

Friday, April 30, 2010

MET: Tosca - Second (and good) attempt to produce Puccini thriller this season - Patricia Racette. c: Fabio Luisi (new Met PGC) - 24.4.10

The Met in one season has almost brought us a second new production of Puccini’s Tosca, though less identifiable than the previous. It still uses the same quasi-abstract sets by Richard Peduzzi (of Chereau Bayreuth Ring fame) employed for the Luc Bondy production last fall. Seeing the same sets is not reassuring. You would think from reading other press that this Tosca might be resurrected from the dead; one can indeed be quite sure it no longer belongs to Luc Bondy. With cast that has helped make this near-end-of-season revival happen, Puccini’s Tosca has though in fact returned to life.

One plan floated early on after first run this season of Puccini’s Tosca was for the Met to offer their patrons next season choice of both the just recently taken down grandiose Zeffirelli production and new Luc Bondy production. This was quite obviously not going to work, so how about for most of the new set designs to stay up, change back most but not quite all the stage direction to traditional and let everybody do the best they can, with committee (Gina Lapinski, Paula Williams, et al) to monitor things from there? From a conceptual point of view, it had to have made matters confusing, but given what audiences are like these days, who was watching? A good time was had by all, so we should rest content with that.

I still lack complete answers to dilemma lying beneath the surface of operations here, except to generically observe that it resembles the inmates having been left to run the asylum. Fortunately the Met has picked handful of competent inmates this go at it; in this sense, the Met has become very lucky. So much is specific to time, place, event and metaphor, with Puccini’s Tosca. It is at best tricky to come up with something innovative that really can work. One however has only to watch the Netherlands Opera dvd – also starring Bryn Terfel as Scarpia – to find it. There is also a very effective Madrid dvd (starring Daniela Dessi and Ruggiero Raimondi, produced by Nuria Espert), only mostly traditional by impetus - Scarpia cleric-inquisitor therein as much as police chief.

In quest to unearth the soul of Luc Bondy’s production of Tosca, a good place to turn is review posted at www.concerto.net. After reading off this link, one could surmise Bondy has arrived at it from world of the comic strip; mention is made of how effectively Bondy has worked for the lyric theater already. There is the Royal Opera Salome (also starring Terfel opposite Maliftano, just as for the Netherlands Tosca), but also a Don Carlo the Met would have been wise to pick up - most preferably over what they did instead.

So, given the character of last fall’s staging, how about having had Luc Bondy, if this was indeed what he had in mind, taking his concept all the way? Oddly enough, there are elements of his production that almost copy what some of us have seen elsewhere. Floria Tosca being on tough end of relationship with Cavaradossi is hardly new but hard to accept to come up with exaggeratedly interpreting their Act One scene together this way. She should be embroiled in petty matters mixed with her own religiosity with him putting his life on the line for friend of his and visionary political cause. This can sometimes happen even unwittingly in comparison of voice type, between the two leads. It did so too decisively in Houston’s1991 revival of Firenze production that had starred Jo Barstow - here placing a very weak, Russian tenor opposite Eva Marton. It surprised me how effective Jonathan Miller’s production is of Fanciulla del West (La Scala), dating from same year as Tosca here, once I watched it much later on dvd.

Playing Scarpia as smarmy demon, kind of one not to be so overtly menacing, as to be nipping at Tosca’s heels, was not new either. The Lehnhoff from Amsterdam even toys with this risk with the rather serpentine costume it handed Bryn Terfel. Ira Siff demeaned last Saturday Terfel uselessly bringing on stage with him a cat in Amsterdam to start Act Two. Does anybody remember how funny Ruggiero Raimondi’s first interpretation of Scarpia was for Herbert von Karajan? He even puts it down himself in the interview, with nudge and wink enough, on the Madrid dvd on which he is so very effective. The Karajan/Raimondi Scarpia definitely contributes to this Tosca being what I rate best ‘party cd’ of a Puccini opera for two generations. Neither is it new to ironically play Mario as acting completely unaware of possibility there could be anything wrong with Tosca’s news to him of their imminent freedom, life together as she imagines it, in Act Three.

Let us then throw in Met staff and attendant panel of expert witnesses. I speculate here – with their mysteriously to nefariously achieved poll data as to what audience reaction might be to an avant-garde, progressive or even simply irreverent take on Puccini’s Tosca. Luc Bondy’s Opera News interview last October was muted in tone to extent of appearing muzzled; it told us nothing. Other recent new productions at the Met, Jurgen Flimm’s Salome (2004) included, have looked confused enough gesturally to also possibly have been arrived at by committee. With new game plan, according to what I heard in nuance Saturday – much but not completely different than before – path of least resistance is to review again mostly a traditional production replacing Zeffirelli's.

Patricia Racette gave us the major up-stage of the season, suddenly to take Karita Mattila's place after making her role debut as Tosca in Houston last January. Mattila still has the greater amplitude, Racette’s voice is still one size too small, but almost on nuance alone Racette suggested toppling who now still might rank higher as Tosca – as though possible with a feather-weight. Those passages in which Racette passionately threw her all into it – though at expense of vocal capital - made for exciting theater.

Racette made Tosca unequivocal in her love for Mario, which in context of this production, made forgivable some unsteadiness around the break (remindful of her 1998 Antonia at the Met) and several unsupported high notes. She prudently let things grow only so agitated at Cavaradossi early on – to be more solicitous of his love than anything else. It took a short while for Racette to match Jonas Kaufmann in tone quality, but find a meeting place that way, they eventually did. With Scarpia, her sorrow for Cavaradossi’s supposed infidelity was heartfelt but defiance toward situation slightly weak.

Racette’s acting poise caved somewhat for first half of Act Two. A few lines, right into resuming conversation with Scarpia attempting to re-ignite her suspicions, still came off right. She then tended to coast through the interrogation scene, thus making something coy out of Tosca’s reactions. Coyness was still an issue through early phase of being finally alone on stage with Scarpia. It shows still a little inexperience, but also insipid type of acting to be putting on to Scarpia as just barely hiding much toughness underneath – i.e. the contriving or generic putting on of ravaged female of sorts,. Due to lack on Kaufmann’s part, all the way through rest of the time he was active in Act Two, neither he nor Racette made it seem either character was near end of his or her tether. This and all of the above was due in part both to priority in saving voice for Racette, plus some inroads original stage directions still made into some of their interaction.. “Voglio vederlo” still came off too tough, - but vis-à-vis Mattila, Racette made purposeful show of how to get lines off exactly right during critical later decision-making with Scarpia,

After stormy Act Two trio, Racette hardly looked the inexperienced diva anymore. “Vissi d’arte” had the right catch in the throat to indicate desperation. It was here that Racette’s voice, while still lyrical, beautifully filled out with fine color what she was singing – with fervor, secure line, femininity and poise, hardly compromised by minor pitch problems at very end. Acting, in the traditional sense was just about perfectly ideal for the rest of Act Two, with fine command of low notes too. Racette’s hyperventilating made having her remain on stage until very end of Act Two very effective.

Just as in ‘Vissi d’arte’, in vividly suggesting involvement and also great vulnerability concerning latest news for Cavaradossi, Racette kept voice lyrical and beautifully focused. The power she needed for solo acuti and several matching Kaufmann was then reassured for the asking. A little confusion showed with directed insipid intrusion of Tosca’s assurance of Mario being gone before asking him to get up (after being shot), but with adrenaline pumping, Racette capped off “Ah Scarpia, avanti a Dio” with a blazing high B-Flat all anyone could have given it; The gentle, solicitous ardor earlier for badly injured doomed Cavaradossi ideally said all the rest.

Jonas Kaufmann replaced the vocally smoother Marcelo Alvarez - all suavity before having come at too heavy a cost to the character of Mario Cavaradossi, at least under anything resembling conventional circumstances. Alvarez did not quite take things to tasteless extent of Pavarotti, but proved that ‘lucky Luciano’ means of going about it had not yet met the death it has richly deserved since Pavarotti himself passed away. Kaufmann, still following some post-modernist impetus from Luc Bondy, sounded confused occasionally – i.e. weakness in staring down Scarpia during Act Two and then well before his ringing Vittoria’s sounding slightly stronger, healthier than he should right after being carried back on from behind stage. He tailored his dark, baritonal timbre, just at first close to being able to mistake for that of Hans Hopf, to suit Puccini’s music well.

Kaufmann quickly recovered heroic stance for “Qual occhio al mondo” - after making too much light of banter with Tosca right before - yet with one G-Flat slightly caught in the throat. He started both “E lucevan’ and ‘O dolci mani’ completely mezza voce, brought, though affected, t a lieder artist’s intensity to the words and to moulding a legato enriched by real pathos. High notes, bolstered by fine temperament in characterizing the accompanying action, had fine ring and body to them. For both such vocal splendor and restoring so much definition to Cavaradossi, Kaufmann accomplished much.

Bryn Terfel brought experience as Scarpia elsewhere to bear in his depicting here the sadistic police chief. His mastery of acting Scarpia’s manipulation in doing business with Tosca, Cavaradossi, his officers proved complete – such perfect calibration numerous times of how to threaten, pull back, accommodate, etc. This was so, as long as Terfel did not concede to a few silly ideas that lingered on and to which he did cave several times – i.e. the oily demon interpretation that Gagnidze used as his model last fall. It is odd to hear Terfel attempt such lightly incisive stuff, since Terfel has so often naturally been inclined to go for so much the opposite. Terfel is good at affecting the Latin machismo and romantic ardor for Scarpia, much as Tito Gobbi had down complete Terfel is not yet quite the complete natural at this. Some hoarseness on several top notes during Act Two betrayed too some signs of aging.

This is however still an important accomplishment. Terfel’s voice is still in handsome shape, and he made himself clearly heard over so much bombast, to effectively close the Te Deum. He was prudent in gradually building up the grand line for his part in the Te Deum, while leaving it palpable the frustration and impatience that Scarpia suffers all the way through opening scene of Act Two. Whores on stage with Terfel most definitely sounded much more out of place than they did with Gagnidze.

Improved supporting cast was again led by David Pittsinger (Angelotti). His Emile LeBecque credentials should soon qualify Pittsinger for Michele in the Met Il Tabarro, given what ‘visually (non-)monotonous’ insights Jack O’Brien provided us. John Del Carlo replaced Paul Plishka as the Sacristan. He wisely opted for playing much of this straight, while lending his sound a little crustiness - also, exaggerated, going over the top on ‘Fuori, Satana, fuori.’ He elicited very well the attitude in face of Scarpia of just insipidly cooperating best he can, without responsible thought at all of what consequences. Eduardo Valdes, with it fine to keep intact the ironic attitude of ‘another day at the office’ with Scarpia, was definite improvement over a wheedling Joel Sorensen. Richard Bernstein was the dignified Jailer, Jeffrey Wells a good Sciarrone - and once more Jonathan Makepeace the wistful, very articulate Shepherd.

For attempting to do Tosca intent on turning the meaning of it on its head, James Levine’s and Joseph Colaneri’s tempos last fall were certainly too slow, flaccid overall. .The only way either one saw Tosca as being detached in the least was to make, late Bertolucci style, a picture postcard out of it all. Such a quality was instead a tempered virtue of Fabio Luisi’s leadership, as Luisi also proved a guiding light (back to Puccini) for his singers dramatically as well. His was the much better line in which the story could find context - with which to accentuate its drama, frisson, and also pathos. The only place he allowed too much slack was during the interrogation scene; brief trio to follow came off too careful by half. By time for ‘Vissi d’arte and Spoletta’s entrance to happen, all returned to being tight. With warm resonance evoking Rome at different times of day, the Met orchestra has not sounded better this year than on this occasion.

What made for a veritably Ozzie-and-Harriet level Meg and Ira show was for the emcees to affect that most (conscientiously not all) of the Luc Bondy staging was intact, when anyone who has heard Tosca even at most ten times could hear this second cast often giving us very different information indeed. Did, contrary to Tommasini in the Times, the freeze frame for Tosca’s leap get restored, just so Ira Saturday would not see Racette, late-career-Olivero-style, merely walk off at the very end?

If Luc Bondy’s take on Puccini’s Tosca was entirely indeed of the polo, ironic variety, perhaps the Met could have last fall allowed him unfettered access to what were his genuine preferences. Cavaradossi might then laugh back at Scarpia during interrogation and Tosca gasp ‘Ohime’ - and later give Scarpia a peck on the cheek right after her ‘Muori’s.’ Scarpia, while momentarily sputtering back to life, might then usurp Tosca with ‘Avanti a me …’ … or perhaps an ‘Avanti a lei' …

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Tuesday, April 27, 2010

ORF: DSO Berlin - Musikverein Mahler 7 - a wild, rocky road of it. Ingo Metzmacher. Dmitri Kavakos (Hartmann Con Funebre) - 12.03.10 - Wien

Ingo Metzmacher in March toured Europe with DSO Berlin, carrying with them Beethoven and Brahms concerti, Stravinsky’s Firebird complete and this program heard in Berlin five nights earlier, then again during this visit to the Musikverein. Metzmacher got called last fall to replace Kirill Petrenko on short notice to conduct a production at the Staatsoper of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. It unequivocally became a great personal triumph. He has also programmed with the Vienna Philharmonic Nono, Messiaen, and for coming summer at Salzburg, a major Wolfgang Rihm world premiere, ‘Dionysos.’

Violinist Leonidas Kavakos helped open with the Concerto funebre by Karl Amadeus Hartmann – Metzmacher leading exponent of Hartmann’s music. Based on Hussite chorale – put through considerable transformation - this music was written partly in reaction to news of Hitler’s rape of Czechoslovakia – tragic event earlier the year this was written.

I only tentatively heard over the air the March 7th performance of this from Berlin. Between this and one at the Musikverein, it somewhat seemed the less direct, more ruminative – in contrast, for instance, with excellent broadcast on disc from Munich with Wolfgang Schneiderhan and Kubelik, openly informed by spirit of protest, but making use of the best musical rhetoric possible to get message across. Kavakos found slightly stronger profile for his often long-breathed rhapsodic lines during visit to the less diffuse Musikverein, with strings of DSO Berlin acutely sensitive, firmly supporting him. While tempos were still a little slower in Vienna than with Schneiderhan, Kavakos achieved very nearly as much. He prudently eschewed excess of vibrato - not to interfere with achieving fully specific expressivity for this music. Such was also true in making broad ascent to suspensions above the staff; his reach for numerous harmonics likewise exuded confidence.

Two simple chorale movements frame the twenty-minute concerto - the first a very brief, simple recitation of the Hussite chorale; the latter, to elaborate ascending obbligato by soloist, for string orchestra sounds –– very close (but embellished slightly) to ‘Eternal Memory’, of which Shostakovich made use some sixteen years later. In-between in character is the melodic line that frames the longer, slow rhapsodic second movement.

Kavakos very capably etched much repeated note writing and double stops with sharp, clean bow strokes through both the scherzo toccata and his freely spun out brief cadenza. He also allowed fine slack to open out fantasia in much of the rhapsodic and also frequently angular writing in the second movement. There was no sense of making empty display of the challenges to technique this writing holds forth. Hartmann’s good ear for what trends were occurring all about – the stringent classicism of Hindemith, the bi-tonalities and lush sonorities built upon them in the music of Bohuslav Martinu - was clear. Fleeting hint or two emerged here of jazz influence common to music by all three composers. Kavakos, sensitively supported by Metzmacher and DSO strings, gave this music a most eloquent voice.

Austrian Radio then unleashed the performance of Mahler’s Seventh Symphony to follow. Several minor lapses in ensemble, tentative accents occurred with this music in Berlin five days earlier, as though (after listening to how this got played in Vienna) DSO Berlin might have just undergone an intense dress rehearsal – thus vitality for repeating things so having become lost. A little more subtlety with dynamics seemed to be true in Berlin. Here in taking quite an angular approach to the Mahler Seventh is someone with a very thorough knowledge and mastery of what lies within - just slightly short on having fully internalized it all. The most subtle I have heard yet is Michael Gielen, from whom thirty years ago we could have expected an equally angular approach to this music.

This was a Mahler Seventh turned gently on its dark side, complemented by pairing it with the Hartmann concerto.. Metzmacher has too much fire in him to have settled for heavy wink and nudge on what, if left at that, can be the empty banalities of some passages in the Seventh. Neither was shortcut of characterizing each of its five movements as simply standing on its own, apart from all the rest, going to do either. One heard all in this piece of what prefigures what happens in the Ninth and Das Lied von der Erde - and thus what characteristics of the Seventh strongly attracted Arnold Schoenberg to it as well. Re-listening to Sinopoli (DGG), it seems he had nearly same idea in mind as Metzmacher, but brought things to fruition instead through, so to speak, the back door – by taking the deconstructionist path.

In making any capital over the dissonant language in middle to late Mahler, both Metzmacher and Sinopoli both eschew making anything two dimensional out of this music. With neither is found any hatchet job nor untoward asperity with Mahler’s chord structures, harmonies - as learned from Juilliard, period movement, or elsewhere. Sinopoli at times goes out of his way to bask in some of this music’s most lush sonorities, at times as to make this music sound detached this way - almost as though about to float out in space. Metzmacher maintains the better simplicity in his approach. In reaching far beneath this music, yet without ever distorting rhythm or form, Metzmacher consistently made one hear well many deep overtones emanate.

Even at clearly forward moving pace, Metzmacher revealed greater interest from the outset than just taking on the Seventh in merely a linear modernist way. The doleful character of tenor horn playing his opening solo with deep tone made this readily apparent. Metzmacher made anticipated steep transition into the Exposition - heroic in stance - with alternate broadening and tightening of thirty-seconds in the heavy equine dotted rhythms, between strings, including their accented, grizzled trills on downbeats, and brass making their way throughout all this. The slowdown into the ardent second theme stopped short of becoming conspicuous; rubato reliant upon wide arpeggi in lower strings beneath sounded mildly inhibited. With Metzmacher only taking risk of excessively breaking apart overall line, development of material from here on out sounded stressed as to working out much of the figuration therein - up to the very still, quiet pastoral interlude evocatively reminiscent of similar in the Sixth Symphony.

Metzmacher purposefully made this interlude sound curiously earthbound, then on high flutes making marked anticipation of flowing episode (‘Sehr breit’) - at last expansively opening out the second theme. A little much was then unexpectedly made out of jagged descent in the violins, as always is. The marking of ‘a tempo, fliessend’ for this seldom gets picked up as soon as indicated. It denies the power of Mahler’s ‘leidenschaftlich’ marking primarily for violins a page later to speak. Metzmacher however made up very well for the faux pas by avoiding obvious trap of bringing this music to a full stop right before final push through the coda, where only one measure of slowdown is marked.

Though making transitions during the recapitulation exaggeratedly arched, disjunct, such risk-taking made for a very adventuresome feel for highly driven narrative on display. This, having come off for ninety percent thereof not sounding affected, made things very clear that DSO Berlin had things starting off in highly exemplary fashion.

Nachtmusik I opened, consistent with all happening before, ominously in solo french horn, with jagged sectioning off of woodwinds’ concertato to follow. The concertato just missed ultimate subtlety in contrasts of dynamics - French horns then warmly, resonantly introducing main march theme to this movement. DSO Berlin achieved fine ardor for Schumann flavored first trio section with flexible expanding out of sonorities where needed and subtle infusion of angst well underneath its surface. Such angst became overt in the ascending line for violins during later reprise of this - consistent with the very precise pointing of dissonances and equally on purpose misplaced accents from especially lower instruments in preceding march. Dissonant intrusions into simple melodic allusion to village marching band and folk idioms helped make for - through such intervention - how Mahler, quasi-Ivesian, points the way ahead for very progressive trends to come, even in simplest of contexts. Much plaintive and spectral was then made out of the brief second trio section. In and out of shadows the rest of this inexorably and steadily moved along, through klezmer march in strings with malevolent obbligato triplets in high descant clarinet to dovetail off – plus much else.

Very purposefully on less steady footing was ‘Schattenhaft’ (‘shadowy’), the truly menacing scherzo and central movement to palindrome before us. It became clear to anyone in the know that Metzmacher had complete grasp of how center of gravity is in pacing this; he just had to make entirely sure that it would be hard for anyone listening in to sense it. Even from Sinopoli, I am not sure I have heard a more sinister take on this than what got heard on this occasion. Push on timpani in getting into this, without so obvious lilt that one gets elsewhere, was very sinister. Discreet, but eerie separations were made between many strands of running triplets in dry-toned violins. Inebriated step in solo viola was very cleverly, subtly anticipated just past opening of the naïve sounding start to the Trio - to destabilize everything ahead of time.

Common refrain in D Major throughout was played light - disingenuously so as though not sensing that whole context was anything but. Icy glissandi down in violins, copied then in lower strings were allowed plentiful space to all be clearly heard, making for most unusually disturbing effect. Seemingly wind driven tentative viola solo and following triplet runs in the strings during lightly scored but very dark reprise of outer section made vast empty infernal space out of it all. What humor exists here still received its due; it just had to throw everybody out of their comfort zone for none of it at all to be underlined; none of it was.

One found mild measure of relief during Nachtmusik II, but with Metzmacher uninhibited to clarify melodic writing therein for it to sound consistent with what would spin out into the linear counterpoint of late period Mahler and Schoenberg. Varied color of mandolin and guitar, combined, contrasting with other instrumentation, enhanced this virtue. DSO cellos ardently poured forth start to this serenade’s middle section. Proceeding forth, it eventually filled out with heavy angst only threatening to weigh things down. Consistently moderate pacing throughout this made a difference. Angular shape was made of agitated violin section stretto anticipating final gentle reprise of first theme without the playing losing resonance by making edge too sharp out of cut-offs to any of its strands. Asperity got saved for brief duet of mandolin and muted solo horn that unwittingly could have been mistaken for muted trumpet – a most surreal effect. In atmosphere of saturated but never sentimentalized melos, this serenade ended with full reception of its vernally fresh sonorities sustaining all to a highly fragrant close.

Spinning this Seventh forth toward dizzying conclusion was the robustly handled finale. After having had to traverse over numerous rocky precipices, being sent out into remote places, and also spun madly about in especially the scherzo to the Seventh, Mezmacher offered no reassurance at the Musikverein of being about to be treated to any safe ride through this mock-grandiose among Mahler finales. Urban hubbub in now harsh relief of the simple light of day, with robust rhythmically tight handling of interlocking episodes, became mildly oppressive, but. with energy left in check for searing handling of the visitation of macabre caravan from the first movement. Metzmacher especially in Vienna made harsh and fully resonant at once this passage’s searing dissonances.

Blend and clash of pan-diatonic buildup, immersion of sonorities - framed by euphonious chorales from Byzantine toned DSO brass - highlighted unapologetically the continual stream of progressivism driving so much here. Witty references to Der Meistersinger and Lehar spoke for themselves, as did forthrightly rough peasant dance and frolic. Spun forth trills in operetta mode high violins ending on cadence in carnival like solo flute provided fleeting moment of wit; most deliciously enfant terrible was the very light pointing of solo divisi violins back in operetta mode, coming off the ‘first movement caravan’ episode, as though so little had just transpired. Metzmacher brought the coda to euphonious close, but as after having covered much steep terrain, very prudently matter-of-fact. Clear lines had been maintained through such vortex - underneath the surface much of the Seventh is – toward an enthralling conclusion.

A few subtleties missed - optimum gradations of dynamics included - in this Mahler was ultimately small price to pay for what transpired here. Metzmacher will find the lighter touch for the Seventh as his interpretative powers grow more seasoned over time, such as with Gielen’s on disc (Hannsler) - most highly recommended. Risk-taking, wild adventure, providing meager comfort zone to fall back on, spoke very loudly indeed. Making anything stilted or cheaply two-dimensional out of Mahler’s all-encompassing vision here got avoided as well. It all spoke eloquently in multifaceted colors of a very unique encounter with this piece - unlikely easy to soon replace by anyone else doing this. Even the Philharmonic can not surpass this.

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Wednesday, April 21, 2010

HGO: Tchaikovsky Queen of Spades - Vladimir Galuzin (Hermann) - features very strong cast and chorus, but other facets weaker - 18.04.10

It is nearly thirty years now since Houston Grand Opera last put on Tchaikovsky’s Pique-Dame, in more traditional setting than now – our first Pique-Dame at the Wortham Center. HGO has brought in numerous good ingredients for success here, in terms of casting Vladimir Galuzin and Judith Forst (Countess), plus for leading parts, three very gifted young singers in their HGO debuts.

In spite of compromises, it is still thrilling to see Galuzin here as Hermann. He was the best Hermann around ten years ago – even with Gregorian, Domingo, and Heppner still around. Early on this past decade, Galuzin bought into temptation of pushing the chest voice through the passaggio that had me fear he would not keep most pitches above it much longer. Final line of the storm scene included the high B, very sinewy, but with still plenty of ring. It was enough alone to bring down the house. A few less challenging high notes later on however got stuck, not quite firmly landing on pitch. His leathery negotiation of the break continues to be worrisome. Hermann for Galuzin clearly is a very driven man - not as something to deliver on the surface, extroverty, but instead deeply from within. There were numerous times throughout suggestions here of the subtlety with which before Galuzin had come to grasp the psychological complexity of Hermann musically so very well.

Galuzin still proved yesterday able to sing softly, albeit less flexibly so than nine years ago, plus less often than he should. Natural darkening of his sound, with age, is expected. Bronze already in the tone before was certainly remindful of Vladimir Atlantov, but there was then better focus to the sound - leaner, more subtly flexible to respond to musical demands. Galuzin then too had a way of taking the introversion of singing Hermann even a step further then than I ever heard from the still estimably fine Atlantov. Dramatically, the well varied neurosis of Hermann, impassioned reach for Lisa, is still gripping today. The look in his eyes during confrontation with the Countess was most fearful - that is, with our inability to see well her face.

Tatiana Monogarova joined Galusin as a fetching, somewhat naïve Lisa. The utter girlishness of Lisa started to characterize Hermann - Galusin chasing her in and out amongst numerous choristers - as something suggesting a pederast. Whether or not on purpose, it put Hermann at risk of being two-dimensional villain instead of the complex anti-hero he really is . Tone quality started off cloudy for Monogarova in opening duet with Pauline; other than strain for several notes up high, everything opened out freely.

Monogarova’s lustrous tone abetted natural curvature of Lisa’s wide-ranging ador very capably and alluringy – even with still slight compromise to legato and slight occlusion around the break. She then came across only slightly heavy for Chloe during the pastourelle. She opted to play Lisa as having difficulty understanding Hermann and as lying tragically outside of abiity to grasp of real situation at hand. Such made for a very involving Lisa in every way.

Galina Gorchakova, less detailed an actress than Monogarova, had a more mature take on Lisa when paired with Galusin in St Petersburg years ago, portraying her as intuitively understanding situation vey well while very affectingly reaching out to Hermann in vain. Monogarova brings to Lisa and Tatiana as well acutely precise nuance in countenance and gesture that is also very compelling.

Icelandic baritone Tomas Tomasson was Tomsky, looking young as the rough-hewn soldier, though a little demurely on purpose toward maintaining good camaraderie with his buddies. A little introversion in acting Tomsky seemed slightly awkward from early on – something unfortunately to explain well later. An oaken, ruddy color to the sound fit close to perfect, with top to freely open out, conspicuously so for the ‘tri karty’ aria in Act One; a little hollowing out from lower end of midrange on down is worrisome though. Lustiness with Tomsky’s witty couplets in the final scene got compromised by excessively annoying nonsensical stage business Tomasson would have done better without.

Vassily Ladyuk was the charming Yeletsky, at least until making lout out of the prince during the final gambling scene, both contrary to the quality of Ladyuk’s voice - with stiff pointing of any irony in playing Yeletsky so unattractively. Before then, most everything went very well for him, with only minor compromise of legato while reaching low rduring his eloquently phrased Second Act romanza. Ladyuk has a very lyric voice, suitable for Mozart and other mostly lyric repertoire, and hopefully much lieder as well in the near future. Maria Markina was the equally lyric Pauline, and very sympathetically sang both her dolorous song in Act One and pastourelle mozartiana.

All HGO studio rank supporting cast members performed very capably, showing what considerable depth HGO still maintains this way. If there was any stand-out, it was Catherine Martin, after having made heavy going of Gianetta in Elixir recently. As Governess, she made scolding of the girls at Lisa's social gathering humorous and warmly inflected - holding everyone’s attention very well, except for all of Lisa’s friends on stage, all looking as though having heard her talk on what is ladylike and what is not too often before. Choral preparation by Richard Bado continued most resolute and dependable with highly supportive childrens’ chorus - notably incisive the boy captain of Phillip Bevers.

Though affected in how she trotted across stage more often than necessary, Judith Forst proved utter paragon of simplicity as the Countess. As successful as much other casting was, this was the one true thoroughly unqualified success for this. The weariness, crankiness, mysterious authority of her lines, infusion of nostalgia through the Gretry aria with which she informed the part put her in great company as close to definitive, barring having Regine Crespin show up instead. Oddly enough, due to a combination of reasons, we unfortunately had at the Wortham an audience impatient with so much music at quiet volume for twenty minutes - for one of the best two scenes in this, Tchaikovsky himself knew. One here had to listen attentively past much coughing, shuffling in one’s seats to be able to hear this scene at all. The Muscovite Venus’s vulnerability in having to face Hermann, half-naked, from a bathtub made for exciting theater - with Forst’s back to us. Here it was hard to argue that the Jones production lacked anything, even with soon before Forst’s feet dangling over foot of her bed while stiff sideways to sing the Gretry aria.

Richard Jones, represented from Welsh National Opera by Roy Rallo here, with Carlo Rizzi at musical helm, however seemed on the same page as Rizzi in one near-fatal way. That is contentment to streamline so much of what got invested in this, and leave it to intermittent insights what Pique-Dame is really about. Except in the most generic sense, there was little in the way of connectivity, except to depend on several fine singing actors to provide it. Good or consistently better than threadbare interest in maintaining strong narrative sense to Pique Dame was lacking. Much built-in contrast between scenes, sound worlds between the dark and sinister and for the intervening rococo pastiche got minimized, for cause of vague intellectualizing.

Carlo Rizzi showed propensity for keeping textures relatively clear, a sensibly forward moving pace through this, a good ache for the grand line on climactic pages, and for final scene, at the casino, ebullient incisiveness against much hard, amplified slamming against gaming table and floor during this scene. A little thinness in quality of the HGO orchestra worked against Rizzi undercutting the score’s dark colors numerous times; so did at times some amplification of voices, creating imbalance with the orchestra, especially at points where screen came down to end several scenes, cutting off most of the stage, to facilitate efficient scene changes. Rizzi was then partly responsible for what resulted in shallow aural perspective quite often.

Up until obvious storm, contrast between differing moods, activity of the summer garden scene got streamlined. A little greater intensity of focus where it should count for something did not quite emerge. The sense should be of Hermann’s perception of all going on about him - of as much we perceive Hermann can at least halfway grasp. The Dostoevskian character of this scene is a obvious to the best interpreters of Pique-Dame, but became thrown off here. Accents for grandiose opening of Act Two came across flaccid. Hint of expressionism in Tchaikovsky’s scoring of first three out of last four scenes got minimized, especially early on during Act Three.

‘Safety first’ in both keeping things constantly moving and ensemble together became password for the barracks scene. Rizzi also denied Monogarova sufficient shape to several particularly expressive lines as Lisa anticipates Hermann’s arrival alongside winter canal. The demonic, obsessive character of Hermann’s drive to get back to the gaming room got undercut by Rizzi’s streamlining of a repeated, insistent descending, rocking figure among lower winds. Not on Rizzi’s part alone, Pique-Dame seemed to stretch out longer than it actually did. It was in understating excessively sharp contrasts in character that this music could be left to meander and then occasionally lose clear sense of direction entirely.

The Richard Jones production features an abstract, expressionist set with stage rear adorned by panels to match. Boudoirs for Lisa and the Countess make it seem that aristocracy has seen better days - perhaps more likely to reflect the Soviet era, replacing different shades of dark gray with a drab green and white. Bed of Hermann and gaming table in Act Three were both steeply raked – with casino in abstract disarray. A panel through ceiling into box for all these scenes served as most likely a skylight, out of which can appear enough of Hermann first of all, then ominously the skeleton of the Countess later – latter symbolizing closing vise of death upon Hermann. Chorus appeared in good mostly black office attire, tending to move in row formation across the stage - most stilted in oval shaped scurrying reception lines for two festive choral passages in Act Two.

Mimetic hand motions, remindful of chorus in Pier’Alli's production of I Puritani at cinemas last fall, were common; especially tiresome was frequent entering and exiting of chorus on and off stage, as to blur line between reality and Hermann’s imagination. This became most distracting – chorus literally quickly jogging past – while Hermann enters embankment scene in Act Three. Individual characters would occasionally be doubled by an extra main character - often rival for attention or affections - walking in precise parallel step behind. Chorus was most effective cowering all about during approach of storm halfway through Act One. Lighting tended to be stark – especially on a silhouetted Hermann to open Act Two and on puppet show for the pastourelle, inoffensively but inertly commenting upon Hermann’s gambling fixation.
Some of all this was interesting, but mostly just to reveal a stylized manner with Queen of Spades. Seeing Lisa as constantly girlishly running, scurrying about, cowering backwards turned silly and banal. Monogarova had plenty of nuance on her own to contribute - and may have rescued her character alone. Skeleton of the Countess looked between redolent of Felix Murnau and of Graham Vick's production of Pique-Dame – perhaps as homage or tribute to what is also a mediocre production of this.

Where the staging really became a cop-out, following odd staging of Lisa’s suicide at ending (non-)embankment scene was the final scene. Tomsky and “his (new) rentboy” engaged for several minutes in messing around; competing then with Tomsky’s couplets was gyrating dance by ‘rent-boy’ accompanying following gambling chorus and to one-up Tomsky, so to speak. Tomsky on the prowl about Hermann’s body, sprawled out against the gambling table provided finishing touch upon new low for malodorous banality five minutes earlier - all lacking sufficient irony and/or suggestive power to have managed to say anything.

Such happening, that this is still Bible Belt to some extent, can so easily provide folks here proof text toward discouraging challenging productions here. We in fact, instead of getting what out there might be truly innovative or insightful, risk stuff that in a chic way cheaply poses as being modern, such as the Annabel Arden Elixir last fall here. This production, even with what intermittent flashes of insight it gave us, helped make Tchaikovsky’s narrative aimlessly meander. One expected more humor, irony in approaching Pique-Dame. Other than for schoolboy-ish Hermann scrambling across card table for the Countess (wearing floozey blonde wig) dealing out cards – humorous indeed – it never became forthcoming.

This Pique-Dame, regardless its accolades from the British press, made for an overall dull afternoon, especially in considering what price tag must accompany the name of Richard Jones. He is credited many years back with a deemed important but overrated Ring at Convent Garden conducted (and despised) by Bernard Haitink, English National Opera Lulu, Shakespearean Verdi at Glyndebourne conducted by Vladimir Jurowski and Munich Lohengrin.

Good for HGO to have picked up instead a Lev Dodin production of this from Paris (now out on dvd) - so darn cute, adorable a Chloe Galuzin is for the pastourelle you want to immediately take him home alone with you to have date any still unattached (or detached) daughter, sister, or niece of yours. The intermezzo (pastourelle) looks better than even what rustics in Midsummer Night’s Dream could have concocted. There is a such a fertile imagination at work here, with Galuzin an alternatively, foppishly cartoon-ish and neurotic Hermann - infused with accents he likely picked up from definitively playing Grishka in Rimsky Korsakov’s City of Kitezh back in the 1990’s. Vera Firsova, a great Ludmilla in Glinka’s opera fifty-plus years back – able to sing rings around Anna Netrebko - would have definitely very willingly stepped aside for Galuzin, could he have been Chloe back then. Such comparison had hardly ever occurred to me before.

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Monday, April 19, 2010

BBC - Halle Orchestra: Mahler Second in fine, driven account by Markus Stenz - 10.02.10

The Mahler Second Symphony, closing with the Klopstock ode, Auferstehung (‘Resurrection’), to which Mahler added a few verses of his own, is likely - before embarking on the Sixth, especially for its great finale, the most progressive and challenging Mahler wrote, It also aspires for lofty aesthetic heights and elicits the most striving, dramatically and musically, to make them as anything he ever wrote.

What often gets missed is what elucidates the most naked progressivism possible for those who can see or hear it. The Second lays out its structure in such a way to challenge all odds. It also most frequently gets partly overlooked because of so much overlay of theatricality for what Mahler is surmised to graphically depict in its finale. Numerous interpreters of the Second, including even some famous names, appear not foolhardy enough to avoid temptation of leaving things just at that, most notably Leonard Bernstein, at least on both of his first two recordings, for CBS, hardly less the one he recorded in London than the previous.

Mahler, for one, never subtitled the symphony ‘Auferstehung.’ On the other hand, he had not developed the contrapuntal mastery that later one hears hinted at in the Fourth, and is still being developed past what is so well mostly academically achieved with the Fifth. It had become fully integrated into his compositional processes when he got around to the Sixth. Forget the Sixth’s deceptively starting out along conservative lines formally; the sprawling ‘sonata quasi una fantasia’ finale does not take any hostages.

Among Mahler interpreters today, someone with experience in some of the most progressive of twentieth century music – Henze, Stockhuausen, Rihm – should be most adept to conquer the Mahler Second Symphony. Markus Stenz’s recording of this with the Melbourne SO has received accolades in some quarters as its greatest recording nobody has ever heard. It has never in any format been available over here.

One of probably only a handful of disappointing movements in the very fine Gielen Mahler cycle (Hannsler) is probably the finale to the Second, for perhaps mildly excessively the academic approach - not quite catching quite this music’s full scope. One often settles from the podium of leaving interpretation just to depict events the music supposedly describes, even graphically so, and letting with (mostly) clear beat everything else take care of itself. Many people have left concert halls the world over much satisfied with performances that end up so, and yet there has to be a feeling of something too superficially achieved, such as for instance on at least Bernstein's first two recordings. Problem with making theatricality out of the finale, such as also did Solti is that Mahler introduces a tension within having an existentialist grasp of what was before him. He expresses such by a certain internal fragmentation in how he builds structure to most emphatically the finale to the Second; in doing so he broke new paths – more so than in the Third Symphony to follow. Johannes Brahms, upon only having heard the first three movements of the Second, correctly indicated Mahler ‘composer of the future,’ with so many around proclaiming it Richard Strauss.

Markus Stenz is, along with Nott and Metzmacher, a conductor to watch very closely today, including in his progress at conducting Mahler, after very striking impression he made at the Proms with the Gurzenich Koln on the Mahler Fifth in 2008. I enjoyed very much listening to his new disc of it with them this past week. He prudently understated here with the Second that he had at all in mind a more expansive Romantic approach or really, latent, in fact somewhat of a hybrid with such for just about all of this up until its finale. With measure of intellect Stenz has, this proved curious.

The revised ‘Totenfeier’, first movement of the Second, opened with stark realism and forthright rhythm and structural sense, holding forth great promise for what might follow. Even tremoli in the strings, occasionally heard as being still a little thin with the Halle, helped sustain tension, pulsation, and line very effectively here. Nodal points, numerous in the first movement, all received very astute placement, making full dramatic effect out of each without having to bloat Mahler’s textures or put on any grand display Halle’s resources. An at once gritty, old-world quality in sound especially on brass sonorities assisted toward their finding all internal dissonances thus so very well, Stenz achieved more with in effect less. Stenz also attended to diffusing space for textures to open out to full extent for especially lyrical pages – second theme suffused with transfigural light each time - each time individually in context of both what was to come before and follow.

Contributions from Halle brass varied from cutting incisiveness to muted, deep accents from lower reaches - very warm French horns in-between. At a few points, Stenz excitingly, even perhaps excitably made something a bit fractious, through brilliant agitato string writing, but with all clear goal in mind very well attained, keeping paramount the highest priority of dramatic clarity and firm structural sense. He drew out of this music its deep funereal colors and contrasting sublime light that still shines through, even at times slightly during some of the darkest passages of the first movement. Muffled accents on timpani down low right before momentary E-Flat Minor reprise of start to the first movement, following perfect Wunderhorn mirth through light procession in the woodwinds was moment rapt, rife with musical and dramatic tension, succinctly achieved. Pointing of the ‘Weh’ motif in the first two movements, in always being placed so beautifully and poignantly, was always spot-on - also to anchor disparate contrasting strands of development especially in the first movement.

Placing violins very far back for long last arch to the musical line in the first movement during the coda showed a penchant also for some risk-taking with this music. Stenz pulled such off with solid vigor. One welcomes Stenz perhaps taking on a little more of an urgent pace with this music, for still more acute sense of what this music is about without making any diminution of it - doing so possibly risk in and of itself. For what he had before him here, he chose tempo for this most sensibly, toward getting everything he asked for here quite definitively so.

Slightly heavy accent underneath combined with gentle lilt above, and simplicity in picking up the music’s rustic accents in-between definitively characterized the Andante moderato– within context of always comfortably forward moving pace. Stenz always closely observed proportions between contrasting Maggiore and Minore sections with very flexible, blossoming gemutlich, melos infused shaping of violin section descant and cello section obbligato lines for the former, yilelding nothing to excess or bathos. For first trio, Stenz prudently placed entering high violin triplets behind repeat eighth-note E-flats on solo horn, toward making both arch and fully satisfying profile of the main theme for both Minore sections. Contrasting with such astute formal sense was the gentle air of nostalgia he had waft through so many lyrical accents this music picks up - including in making long transition out of especially second trio (‘Minore’) into closing A section.

The third movement, while still being good, revealed at several critical junctures that Stenz could not prove quite entirely foolhardy in getting past a few unscathed. He made very prickly the pointing of the Wunderhorn theme – ‘St. Anthony preaches to the fishes’ – such moment of clipping best to overlook because Stenz effectively made it enhance characterizing this music so well. He wisely understated the often thwack upbeat to open this scherzo, to make complete sense of the rocking lilt serving violin line obbligato that at first plays here simply as introduction to the theme. Clarinet arpeggio in odd intervals could have used both a little more pointing and a little stronger underpinning, but capture of lilt into the first simple trio section was most engaging. Strong digging in on cellos and basses for starting the second trio section was distinctive at first; the second time it occurred it did so disproportionately with Stenz having undercut, clipped endings to ‘paradise gone bad’ middle section he had so beautifully introduced in a translucent E Major with fully voiced trio of trumpets. Anticipatory frolic, pomp to it was excellent.

What space Stenz can allow such moments, that here tend to end with too rapid descending run back into main theme - what pointed rubato, dissonance expanding allargando he can give these will provide solution to common error here. Stenz ultimately made full relish of the very open peasant frolic of this and of this music’s contrasting macabre elements and capture of Elysium as well.

‘Urlicht’, sung lyrically with intimate feeling by mezzo Katerina Karneus, but with Stenz reining in his forces a bit far back behind the vocal line, came across most effectively. Karneus lightly pointed out the angst, ardor, Wunderhorn naivete, and sense of what to grope for as profound through the highly expressive text with fine evenness of line. Orchestral principals characterized their solos with abundant sensitivity and profile, fully supportive of Ms. Karneus.

The monumental finale to this symphony, while not receiving a bad rendition, proved a bit of a letdown after expectations Stenz had raised already. Ferocity and exultation through respectively the most agitated and affirmative passages of the finale were not undercut, except for some of what lies beneath them and between so many multifaceted episodes upon which the finale to the Mahler Second is built. This is true within reckoning this music in the best possible way as designed from modus operandi or impetus that puts, as broadly interpreted, orthodox Roman Catholic faith to doubt – as much as quite differently does the Universalist text of both Klopstock and Mahler. One can even posit that there is within the finale of the Second Symphony, without the cumulative contrapuntal mastery that informs so much of the Sixth what ultimately made it then a very real possibility – not near just so much indicated by change at third from major to minor mode - originating from the ‘Weh’ in ‘Klagende Lied.’ Aspects of the design of the Second are deceptively simple. Mahler was not yet the full craftsman he was to become less than ten years later.

After curiously understated opening to the finale, Stenz held on very well through all the mystery to follow, finding very fine placement of the differing, contrasting voices from afar. Once into louder tutti sections, leading into suggestion of a development section for this finale - while on purpose ultimately being unsatisfactory as such - Stenz lost somewhat the focus he had maintained so well before. One is so used to opening segue into this expanding out, even almost ad infinitum at times, so much that one has to be really thinking ahead of what consequences might be of doing so even halfway. The broad brush digging in by strings for trumpet led marcia (marked Kraftig) is another. Stenz proved himself undaunted in handling complex textures through all the first extended loud tutti, making them all acutely clear, even including what is often inaudible; oxymoron for Stenz, broad sense of structure thereof – fragmentation built therein there to so emphasize that this is from which the most violent struggle arises – replaced such specific indication of what is quintessential here. Only by measuring Stenz’s efforts by the highest possible standards, did things go awry. Acutely, such occurred a minute after ‘false recapitulatory start in F Minor (approached from subdominant - B-Flat Minor), with closing very long descent thereof on diminished chord having proven flaccid here.

Past a slightly enervated, unstable, but still well characterized sequence of episodes - thanks again to consistently fine work from numerous Halle principals - starting with 'agitato' introduced on ‘Weh’ by doleful trombone, the Halle Choir entered well. Slightly gummy attack apart at first, Halle Choir’s keen attention to excellent balances and to expressive meaning of their text restored confidence for all involved. For being placed slightly forward, Susan Gritton had discerning ear to place tone slightly back to achieve right degree of mystery to her opening solos; she then joined Katerina Karneus for duet of freely open expressive ardor, helping bulld toward exultant conclusion to overall a fine account of the Second Symphony.

Stenz, for most concluding episodes, relocated his very fine grasp of formal objectivity that had, in conducting this had intermittently evaded him earlier. One should look forward to encountering him doing a work again soon which he has given much care and attention - and then of course with more in place than even now.

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Friday, April 16, 2010

DSO Berlin: Visit to Wiesbaden of thought-provoking clash, incongruities - Metzmacher, Tetzlaff - Webern, Mendelssohn, Schreker, Debussy - 26.08.09

Agon, battle for choice of aesthetic calling (applying also to how music is interpreted) between achieving precise formal rigor and sensual appeal – while taking on different properties, parameters, characteristics - still rages on. One became acutely aware of such incongruity with this program. Three works on the program here, written within space of eleven years, were composed on the dying breath of Romanticism - with what burgeoning Expressionism and Impressionism to develop alongside.

Such conflict was felt in how all this program got put together and music therein got interpreted. The most free, supple, even rhapsodic I have heard Ingo Metzmacher yet on the Passacaglia of Anton Webern is now as DSO Berlin played it in the very acoustically warm Kurhaus in Wiesbaden. How performances of this from the very same team have differed has certainly not been great. Pace at Wiesbaden was certainly slightly broader than six months earlier in Berlin. A week after Wiesbaden at the Edinburgh Festival, the Passacaglia was taken equally broad again, but approached in slightly more strictly hieratic fashion, as part of same quasi-Bachian program as got played in Berlin and Hong Kong last spring – with Berg concerto and Brahms Fourth Symphony. One here got in Wiesbaden the little extra space, beyond that of the highly linear, pushed forward go at it last spring. One relished here slightly more the inherent colors, nuance through process of being put through so many variations, over ground bass.

The diaphanous color of central episode in D Major received slightly more relief here than earlier, as did mirroring descant earlier of solo flute over bassoon. Febrile duet for French horns, playing in high register, was equally notable. The structural rigor so implicit in this music did not get undercut by freedoms taken here. Instead Metzmacher relaxed to make such internal rigor sublimated – approximated at best from anyone less well-versed at handling the language of later twelve-tone compositions. Ingo Metzmacher is clearly superior r among his peers, in his ability at making such repertoire and his intentions therein clear. There was also some risk-taking here in a few places, especially toward crest of the last loud tutti in the work, which excitingly became almost too propulsive this time. Culmination of stretto with seventh variation – similar enough moment - happened spot-on, variation with broken dotted rhythms in excellent stringendo fashion, as well. Pointing of colors, motif, last strands of activity in the passacaglia’s closing pages was deft and piquant. With solo work always exemplary, the Webern, though ironically, benefited the most by appearing on this program.

The Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, featuring Christian Tetzlaff as soloist, was nearly as successful. The headlong pace, with which this started, without grand-standing, was immediately arresting. The idea consisted predominantly of moving forward still well-delineated first subject of the first movement through well and incisively marked figuration as it builds up into the first orchestral ritornello. Freedom with rubato in shaping relationships between themes in the first movement was at once wide, open, and supple, all natural within the shape of the music. Though noticeably the lyrical second theme moving more broadly than the rest, Tetzlaff supported warmly by DSO winds maintained at once sufficient life and poised line running through it. The centrally located cadenza in the first movement and lack of break into the second movement certainly supports to some extent such a fantasia approach to shaping this piece. Tetzlaff and Metzmacher, however, only put at risk so far very inherent elements of classicism in the Mendelssohn. I was taken aback - referring to the classic Schneiderhan/Fricsay recording - to find less wide-ranging freedom in rubato therein than what Tetzlaff and Metzmacher very successfully achieved here.

The second movement, with expansively paced segue into it and beautifully moulded melodic line, very expressively caught one’s ear in its sub-mediant tonal relationship to the rest of the concerto. This is quite unusual - in place of the Adagio sounding as though to perfectly stand by itself. Matching of running tremolo during middle section under primary line in both Tetzlaff’s part and of DSO strings parallel to it helped keep one’s attention rapt to the melodic line.

While brisk, the elfin step through the finale elicited much more charm than it did empty show of virtuosity – it still in mind the conspicuously brisk treatment of passages and grandiose rhetoric (though with several strained acuti, pitch-wise) for nodal points from Tetzlaff during first movement as well. Some dust was sure to get blown off this warhorse, with it in mind how the two took on the Berg concerto during the same touring maestro and soloist did together last year. Astonishingly, Mendelssohn here got played with as much supple ease as would a fully traditional interpretation of the concerto.

The second half of this concert met with qualified success. Schreker’s music for Der Ferne Klang (‘The Distant Sound’ – loose translation) has often been alluded to as Impressionistic – comparative mention of Paul Dukas’s Ariane et Barbe-Bleue being more apt than of Debussy’s Pelleas. No doubt, however, Schreker is betterat being Impressionist than Claude Debussy. ‘Franz Schreker? Oh, I’ve never heard of him’ one can hear from near back of music appreciation class. Debussy, sublime classicist too he was, was the much better, more objective realist of the two. Debussy most certainly can be played overtly Impressionistic; except for isolated places in which it might be apt, it serves as good time to run for cover.

Schreker and Debussy do not normally work well adjacent to one another. Only to a qualified extent they did here. Getting past that, the virtuosity of DSO Berlin in playing this, and surplus of energy that they invested in Nachtstuck (Act 3 Interlude) from Der Ferne Klang, was something at which to marvel. With Metzmacher in this repertoire, thinking somewhat far ahead, one picks up perhaps a little more than the individual listener can digest of this music. Certainly a most dramatically relevant unnerved quality, anxious tone was felt throughout. It was more subtly the case than with Die Tote Stadt, last year, because that at full length is much longer than such expansive interlude (at 17 minutes) from the Schreker. The warmer, more pliant approach of DSO Berlin, compared with orchestra of Royal Opera in London, also fits much better.

In taking this on somewhat academically, Metzmacher unwittingly gave us a slightly two-dimensional perspective on this. He certainly knows his way through harmonic thicket present; we clearly hear the multi-faceted, interwoven enharmonic, tertiary and at tritone harmonic relationships infusing it. Mild intrusion of portentousness emanated through opening cortege in clarinets - built on triads, subtly buttressed by extra third beneath.

If however Metzmacher wanted to convey the fractured psyche of Schreker’s characters, Fritz and Grete in particular, the element of fragmentation he disclosed here was most apt. Place or two suggesting Act 3 of Strauss’s Frau ohne schatten had me surmise that any complaint made before about Frau being over-scored sure must be churlish. With such exemplary playing, it could hardly be Metzmacher alone who makes Schreker arduous listening. Having the stage picture in view, such as will happen soon in Zurich, should ameliorate matters. Whatever Daniel Herzog’s production offers, images via google of Peter Mussbach’s out of Berlin (conducted by Pedro Halffter) are very striking.

Hopefully, Metzmacher for complete opera in Zurich will rely more greatly on the power of suggestion – in place of making so much overt out of its innards, nooks and crannies. There was nothing near so crude here as the idea of appropriating equal weight to everything in this score. Certainly darker, more widely spaced moments, contrasting well too with fine tracery in the most delicate pages in Schreker’s writing, spoke in greater relief than in taking a lighter, more hands-off approach. Essentially, this music is not so much full of a plethora of ideas as music constantly in state of motion between, at a handful, different strands of material. So much often superficially seems in constant state of flux. One can very seldom keep attention to any one thing for more than ten seconds at a time. Such a superficial take on Schreker, you say, but there is some grain of truth to this – considering the glaring light up to which Metzmacher can subject this music.

Protagonist Fritz is seen just past where this music has finished playing, in final scene of the opera old and almost crashed out, so to speak, on a sofa. He is despondent over both his loss of Grete and failure to finish his own opera – project part of his sole obsessive quest on his own to find the ‘distant sound’ he can not identify until moments later right before the end of Der Ferne Klang. Not uncommon in Schreker, there is in the mean time much debauchery that has happened to Grete; such need not detain us here.

Anecdote out of biography of Richard Wagner is relevant – with as an aside some of Der Ferne Klang taking place in Venice. Wagner could not think of how to start composing the Ring until overnight cheaply lodged in La Spezia (on opposite coast) trying to sleep on a very hard sofa or couch. Output from the effect of his head swimming was the ‘water music’ to begin Das Rheingold – all for three or four minutes thereof stuck on chord of E-Flat Major. First hearing of Nachtstuck makes such notion inconceivable for Schreker – of composing music at all similarly. In mind of the diaphanous mists that momentarily occlude tonality in Das Rheingold, Schreker with no reason to doubt was a master impressionist - very apt at the power of suggestion, something that hopefully Metzmacher will tap into more when he soon conducts the complete opera.

‘Ls Mer’ reappeared from final concert of 2008-09 subscription series in Berlin (programmed then with Wagner, Mahler, and Strauss - Deborah Voigt giving eloquent voice to both Liesbestod and Four Last Songs). Perhaps to compensate for the Philharmonie’s diffuse acoustics, Metzmacher’s interpretation on that occasion seemed angular close to point of being stilted. Improvement, at Wiesbaden, in making more of the mystery and elusive qualities of this music, and more play of much arabesque through its textures was very notable. Strong delineation of this music’s proportions was almost too luxurious earlier last summer at home. Shifts in color, especially from the strings spoke at Wiesbaden with most subtle refinement. Truly achieved pianissimo from DSO violins with clear shimmer above the staff was very impressive - at restful moment halfway through ‘Jeux de vagues.’ Without self-conscious pointing of motif, the very opening of ‘La Mer’ formed out of beautifully probed recesses from the deep; all in supple proportions developed organically, very effectively from there on out.

Still there were moments in this ‘La Mer’, where Metzmacher might still mistake hard push forward for true animation that in French music must almost always emerge from within. One then can easily run risk of excessive reveling in how lavish, even svelte Debussy’s sonorities can be. When however such arrives as compromise to inner flexible rhythmic pulsation, upon which this music must rely to remain alive, cause for it all then runs risk of becoming lost. The only places where this here became an issue were two spots in ‘Jeux de vagues’ – one almost rescued by beautifully calibrated, light harp glissandi following it - and then always risky coda to the finale of ‘La Mer.’

Building of climactic stretto right before calm mid-point in the finale was impressive. Light bird-call descant in flute spoke very freely in open relief far above. DSO winds made the opening then to ‘Plus calme’ remote upon high all very arched and languorous - remote from high pedal in violin section harmonics and quiet undulation well beneath. It was from shaping this so, however, that playing turned phlegmatic, rough, for later accenting.

Metzmacher, granted, is not quite entirely to manner born to conduct Debussy –that putting him in good company. Precise pitching and calibration of numerous percussion effects throughout certainly belied the fact; there was still much here with which to be impressed. Play of waves through ‘Jeux de vagues’ and lusty appeal with shanty tune that starts from divisi cellos midway through the first movement all came across unabashed. Registration of most timbres, sonority throughout, best when informed by complete rhythmic sense, was clear. The elemental quality of this music - much of it so well breathed from within, spoke eloquently throughout.

In the fine acoustics of the Kurhaus, one got treated to lofty feast indeed of incongruities – program in hindsight not to be reckoned as having merely been thrown together. Even with what risks get taken, one is very seldom the loser to attend something like this, to become very confounded by the effect of it all.

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Thursday, April 8, 2010

MET: A special helping of broken chinoiserie - Hui He in slipshod re-run of Verdi's Aida 03.04.10 An aside on PBS re-airing of fall Turandot.

It is with the second heaviest Verdi role with which Hui He of Xi’an, China, graduate of Shanghai Conservatory made her Met and Met broadcast debut. She got heard as Tosca in a concert (semi-staged) performance, broadcast with the New York Philharmonic, approximately a year ago, Lorin Maazel conducting.

The part of Aida is versatile in its demands - elusive this way. Hui He made this much clear. It was just partly a case of nerves that obstructed her being able to start well lyrically, for which she placed back too far - to be careful. It thus made for cloudy tone production from her entrance on stage through end of trio with Amneris and Radames. She gained slightly more confidence for the large ensemble and opening of ‘Ritorna, vincitor’ to follow; her tone better opened out and more of a character began to emerge. Persistent pitch problems then began to compromise line; she lacked quite the control to scale voice down where, such as to start “L’inana parola’, the line is marked pianissimo.

There is attractive color here, for instance a smoky colored lower register, but pitch problems at the break and above killed her first go at ‘Numi, pieta’, that fortunately she repeated much better to end Act Two, Scene One. Gentle imploring of Amneris for news of Radames conveyed fine intimacy as same music taken more slowly during ‘Ritorna vincitor’ had in her previous scene. She then however opted for thickening her sound a little much, making intonation suffer once more, this time for her well felt despondent entreaties for mercy to a threatening rival ('Ah! pieta ti prenda').

‘O patria mia’, starting off the Nile Scene, revealed the effect of some wear and tear of singing Aida on essentially a lyric instrument. The right lyrical impetus was present, and feeling for emotions of the character, but for sake of maintaining control through some of the long cantilena in this aria, tone began to turn whitish under pressure and the high C just about misfired completely. Hui He then managed to quickly regain poise for by and large a quite successful Nile duet with Amonasro, with especially some fully spun out lines to close it, that she then made quite affecting. Through ‘Pur ti riveggo’ with Radames, she also revealed well toughness of the slave girl, alongside the vulnerability. Intonation again became for a few phrases very hit-and-miss for Hui He as the second big duet to include her required so much scaling down of the voice. Most revealing of having succumbed to effect of having had run across some questionable training was the reach-from-behind approach to ‘O, terra, addio’ which broke apart the line and again killed intonation, whereas she had started the Tomb Scene well.

Slight glibness apart, including through ‘L’inno nostro di morte’ in this final scene, a real character as Aida started to emerge, in such quasi-heroic attempt at it, but with so much faulty technique to just simply got excessively in the way. Not encumbered by such heavy demands, here is a lovely instrument, but, one would hope, not one to be quickly ruined soon by plethora of Tosca’s, Aidas, Amelia’s, etc. It would be good to report here that, from veterans of Met and other big house Aida’s, there might be some example for Hui He to follow Saturday. However, all to encounter here were only faint to mediocre reminders of what Aida, singing it, is about.

Salvatore Licitra was the Radames, appearing all eager, naïve, ambitious, guileless, stupid as any Radames should for ‘Se guerrier io fossi.’ All this was fine and well, just as long as Lictira did not have to reach much for the break or anything above it. What hint of anything like heroism that Radames should convey, such as from for instance a Bergonzi, fell seriously by the wayside. Licitra did manage to plan here and conserve energy better than he did last year in Munich with Gatti, singing Radames again, but still several high notes emerged as raw, even here. Clipping of ‘Nel fiero anelito’, inelegant lunging for long sustained F’s in Celesta Aida’ and poutish behavior for cabaletta to the Nile scene duet ultimately contributed to one anti-heroic Radames indeed.

In fact, one would have hoped that the priests, others in charge, once betrayal of the Egyptian forces has occurred, might have paused to consider how perhaps little of a factor Radames might have been in securing victory for which he has just been lauded. Once having done so, it might have been easy to release Radames as unworthy to the cause from the get-go to the Ethiopians to join his Aida in smelling i freschi valli of new jungle home down south. We could have then had a happy ending and no Act Four.

Dolora Zajick, for what seems the umpteen hundredth time - wear and tear on her voice to show for it - was the Amneris. She joined Licitra in giving, even solidifying well the following impression of lets say ninety minutes before curtain, loud stretch and yawn, ‘time to get derriere down to Lincoln Center, put on the Egyptian, and give it all once more what they came for..’ In other words, for the most part, other than to phone Amneris in, the cause was lost. ‘Hmm - how shall we nuance ‘Ah, vieni’ today? Let’s perhaps place each succeeding one even still a little further back from previous one this time.’ How imaginative! What extra gilding Zajick gave them did however succeed in derailing intonation. Zajick comfortably coasted through the ‘Trema, vil schiava’s’ of Act Two, Scene One, then after nice pause for extra half a second from Armiliato, indulged us of her chest voice on ‘Del tuo destino’, that starts and remains comfortably lower.

Marco Armiliato gave Zajick a fairly breezy tempo for cabaletta in the Judgment scene, instead of abetting her clipping it, such as happened earlier here in Houston. The forza for it still got compromised quite a bit. For arioso to precede trial of Radames, Zajick varied between good garden variety verismo and giving the princess’s special voicing of desperation for hope a few shimmers of real insight. There is still indeed an Amneris here, even quite the voice for it, though with chest register more separate from the rest than before, and one looking as though en route to shadow of her former glorious self.

Carlo Colombara made the lyrically achieved Ramfis, achieving proper gravitas and menace for some pages - temple scene with Radames for instance - and compromised, reach-from-above intonation for the rest of it. The profile for what once has been a very fine voice for the part is still there, but some edges now begin to show. Invocations of Radames’s name eventually went completely sharp. Stefan Kocan played the somewhat nasal, Slavic toned King of Egypt quite firmly, but also with minor intonation problems.

Carlo Guelfi energetically fletcherized a bit to put forth a fully rounded Amonasro across the footlights. Other than for several key lines, for instance at the end of the Nile duet with Aida, top notes were unsteady and sense of legato patchy at best. Clearly what continues mostly a character-baritone profile of the embattled and enslaved Ethiopian king emerged here. My expectations for Guelfi were lowest of all, but in context of this cast, he hardly did poorly at all. All three lowest male voices in this cast sounded best in negotiating exchange of recitative toward end of the Triumphal Scene, following Guelfi’s unwritten doubling of Hui He on all instead of part of her long second phrase to repeat what Amonasro just had in full to himself for ‘Ma, tu Re.’ He sounded, non legato, two dynamic levels louder than she did.

More heroic sounding than anybody else in the cast was the Messenger of Diego Torres, perhaps the one unqualified success here. Could he have been a double for Licitra? What could have things been like, had he been able to fill in? The Priestess (Elisabeth DeShong) however was a case, all the way around, of blatant disregard. Nobody, from the podium to backstage showed any evidence of care for how the music is marked, in terms of dynamics, balances, placement, or anything else. DeShong blasted her way through this at an unyielding fortissimo – not making enviable at all where the new Chinese soprano may have stood within grand scheme of things.

After cancellation of Paolo Cargnani just slightly within one week of this run, came on Marco Armiliato to conduct this instead. Heavily misplaced accents in segue off the Judgment Scene duet for one revealed that, for Armiliato, there was nothing other than perhaps cosmetic that needed fixing since Gatti, the far more glorified (and more willful) routiniere who conducted this last fall.

The affectation, mannerisms with Armliato up there in Gatti’s place was at times exactly the same, as I have heard in a Munich Aida and more painfully the La Scala Don Carlo. The Met chorus most often sounded thin and unfocused. Strings were a bit ragged, even for prelude to Act One and mezzo-forte for what should be the magical opening of the Nile scene. Many phrase endings were loud and crude, often to a truly unwarranted extent, i.e. toward end of ‘Ma, tu Re’ during the Triumphal Scene for stretto right before closing phrase. This was shouted to extent that brief line of chord progression therein could have been mistaken for writing out of Utrenja or Moses und Aaron instead.

Obsequious yielding to his singers on stage, when in violation of Verdi’s rhythms, came across highly insipid. Dance episodes during the first two acts were clunky - the dance of the priestesses flat-footed and loud. Amneris’s slaves, even as looking forward to a few special privileges in lieu of the day being prep for her nuptials with Radames, sounded tired and disengaged – with loud, clunky harp to accompany them. What the Met orchestra and chorus has been able to offer before in terms of refinement under Levine and others seemed to have exited for left field entirely. The grandeur of such an occasion, to see Aida at the Met, with chorus sounding at times so thin, went almost entirely missing. Ira Siff’s comparative evaluation of this cast - for it to have been just as good for us in our own day as Toscanini’s of the 1908-09 season (Destinn, Louise Homer, Caruso) had been for that time, Verdi’s Aida notwithstanding - hit a new low.

Desecration from earlier this Met season of again a true masterpiece - what has so often now been left bowdlerized, with still the Toscanini butchered Alfano ending to it, was on display on PBS this evening. When bare-chested Pu-Tin-Pao came on stage, in the stage directions, for the Liu, I thought he could have been headed for either the somewhat raw sounding Turandot (Maria Guleghina) or Calaf (Marcello Giordani) instead, for what had happened to the shape of so many of Puccini’s phrases, pitch, etc. Andris Nelsons (Met debut), with deft touch for some of Puccini’s sonorities, made something close to muzak of the rest. - in place of ability for the modernism of Puccini’s score to make it to the fore. After shaky ensemble for passacaglia to flaccidly end Act One, one then picked up real garden variety Tommy Dorsey waltz of just about the entire Riddle Scene to end Act Two.

In Berlioz’s day, should this Turandot have occurred in Beijing then, someone would have had to step in to save even Nelsons, lest he not have been able to leave Tian’anmen with ears and nose intact after likely encounter with Pu-Tin Pao himself Otherwise, what would we be able to make today of what Berlioz wrote on the subject of penalties for desecrators? The Liu (Marina Poplavaskaya) practically or artistically emerged the victor of the day, even with her own moments of questionable intonation. Pu-Tin-Pao still perhaps had score to settle with her - for her execrable Elisabetta in Don Carlo weeks earlier in London.

The Zeffirelli, with the three ministers doing ‘this is what we do to look Chinese for the tourists’ act, looked as silly as any production of his has ever looked, all the excessive dancing around and posing with fans hardly less. Nelsons took the same bad cut to the ministers’ scene opening Act Two as usually taken. No gravitas was able to be found for anything, least of all either the tone of Samuel Ramey or Charles Anthony as senior figures on stage, or as to what Puccini’s final opera could have meant. It would have hardly mattered if the highly relevant Berio finale of today could have been performed. With both the staging and Nelson’s mix of chartreuse into Puccini’s sonorities, even for Puccini composed like he did – the cause would have most likely been lost anyway. What Turandot might offer in terms of grandeur got compromised by road-show quality work (including in number on stage) from the Met chorus.

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Saturday, April 3, 2010

RSO Berlin: Warm leftovers - Marek Janowski conducts Brahms. Viviane Hagner, violin. Konzerthaus Berlin. 06.03.10

It is well understood that Marek Janowski specializes somewhat in the German romantic repertoire, including Brahms, which he has regularly programmed in Berlin, Geneva, and Pittsburgh. His interpretation of the four Brahms symphonies with Pittsburgh is available today on three audiophile cd’s. All heard here revealed acceptable, even quite good familiarity with the sound world of Brahms. Good blend between dark in color RSO Berlin winds, brass and somewhat lean string section was readily apparent.

The fine Munich born violinist Viviane Hagner was soloist. If still a bit green to have come up with yet a fully formed interpretation of the Beethoven concerto she played well with Chailly and Leipzig three summers ago at the Proms, I doubt it likely that one can hear any better from either Hilary Hahn, even today, or Steinbacher. (Most memorable was the Brahms Fourth that Chailly conducted right afterwards). Ms. Hagner certainly has some interpretative ideas about the Brahms that are worth keeping around, but a couple of elements here seemed to constantly get in the way. One embraces the dark color of her tone, the clarity through trills in the upper register, supple handling of line and phrasing, all virtues - all during her best playing for this, on display.

However, this could not have been one of Hagner’s better performances of the Brahms Violin Concerto. Janowski opened the orchestral exposition with broad shape to the opening theme, violas with a fast vibrato just blending almost enough with the horns of RSO Berlin. Segue into first ritornello then revealed strain at maintaining line; same held true for transition into D Minor segue into solo exposition. Hagner entered dramatically enough, but having to underline excessively her bow shifts to match what RSO Berlin strings had just done. Other evidence, not for reasons of technical insecurity on Hagner’s part, of the line getting stuck on finessing gesture tended to accumulate, after sweet tracing of line and warm tone for main two themes respectively. Given that things had taken on a sluggish, at times lumpy pace through this –Brahms’s line, as he composed this, being in the orchestral part – it became hard to relax more into the second theme than Hagner revealed here.

Janowski’s subito allegro to start the ritornello was easy to find undercutting to Hagner after stodgily paced A Minor reprise of the D Minor transition into the solo exposition. It seemed a little funny, odd that Janowski did not sustain the new pace through it very well, but he was fortunate to find someone as conceding as Hagner starting off the Development section. The feeling of any center of gravity under Hagner’s alternation of octaves and half-tones just about close to vanished, leaving Hagner, let’s say, a bit high and dry. Underlining the horns’ segue into the Recapitulation made for cheap enough rhetoric indeed.

Diminuendo back-phrase into the second theme from RSO Berlin strings sounded truly provincial, and Hagner into D Minor transition into pre-cadenza ritornello made it obvious that she had caught some malaise as well, helping to make a parking lot out of it all. Letting know who is in charge once more, Janowski indulged himself with a fresh subito allegro for cadenza preceding ritornello then had his strings hatchet crudely the opening theme, which then had Hagner motivated to do the same thing to open the cadenza.

In keeping with Janowski’s interpretation of this, Hagner then began, instead of just playing the opening of the Joachim cadenza, scrupulizing it - ultimately resulting in tense bow arm for rapid high arpeggio in thirty-seconds working toward its conclusion. High trills toward end, so detached, took on a disembodied quality. She eventually made her last reprise of opening theme soar, succeeding soggily bathetic solo bassoon and horn, hard enough this way to tell apart, then followed by worked, choppy Animato to follow her last moment of eloquence and end a really broadly paced first movement.

Equally bathetic was the constant sag within melodic lines from oboe to start the Adagio, later from others – even not waiting until ends of long phrases to so indulge. Hagner started off and continued here well, though not as so convinced by the cloying effect of it all. Hagner’s handling of the middle F-sharp minor section was the very model however of understatement; whether unwittingly or not, it seriously undercut what Janowski was doing. The line from him underneath her literally almost went completely asleep. Pacing here was not so slow; it was in maintaining things well that there was so much lapse. Hagner infused making transition back to oboe melody with some life; her doing so undercut that there was orchestrally any formal concept at work here at all. Hagner started to concede more to Janowski, letting reprise of opening melodic lines sag – then almost all sense of correct pitch towards making final cadence effective went out of the winds of RSO.

Janowski’s faux attempt at light touch to start the finale was just that - self-conscious regroupings of so much broken phrasing prominent. Accenting often to follow got slightly misplaced, with awkward coming off two ritornelli almost dislodging Hagner’s handling of cadenza (-like) passage-work. Nevertheless, she maintained good poise through them. Certainly some strain was felt in making smooth enough transition into ritornello before the main brief cadenza here, and then eventually Janowski ended what he had helped make quite a dispiriting affair by parking the closing chords to the finale, same as with ending the first movement.

After clumsily almost lopping off first loud half-cadence, Janowski finally decided to let big introductory statement to open the Brahms First Symphony throb for its first reprise from the pitch of G. Pacing throughout was even, brisk, but opening of the Exposition revealed little animation from within, even with what lift and nudge Janowski may have given the surface - with occasional intrusive accenting to follow. Second theme was warmly achieved - followed by odd rushing of downbeat into triplets (that Janowski self-consciously corrected during the Recapitulation), that undercut his ability to articulate well both the angular and rollicking character of stormy close to the Exposition. Opening of the Development section sounded loose, albeit at moment for tension to relax nevertheless; start of broad retransition to dramatic opening of the recapitulation was diaphanous to extent of it being possible to mistake for being Chausson. In spite of good stringendo accenting strongly implied in the score, Janowski almost made self-parody out of arching his way into accenting last stage of segue into the Recapitulation. Infusion of practically bargain basement accenting annoyed toward coda to the first movement, which then heaved and groaned its way to its conclusion.

Any unsuspecting need-for-dramamine-challenged audience members could not have fully welcomed Janowski’s swaying manner with opening of the Andante. After coy reply from oboe, Janowski waltzed his way (corrected on partial reprise later on) up broadly ascending bridge idea that so happens to be written in dotted rhythms. Oboe principal, starting well his long spinning out ideas designed to enhance the pastoral aura of it all, got caught up in a little of a beguine by end of the Exposition. Fortunately, the Recapitulation, featuring burnished toned duet between concertmaster and horn, proceeded more smoothly and eloquently.

Much of the Allegretto proceeded somewhat loosely, even in pastel mode, enough to drop hints of Palm Court here and there. Calibration of line with syncopating undercurrents at start of it was weak. Janowski then turned self-conscious with upbeats to the trio section, which denied it in flat-line manner much of any swagger. Transition back to A section through (in accenting) misplaced piccicati misfired, with horns under reprise of the opening losing all sense of pitch right underneath. Violins lost definition in trio section reprise pianissimo off-beats, by back-phrasing them too much - making disturbed peace out of ending cadence.

Introduction to the finale, with a large heave to open it, proceeded conventionally enough. Sequence of ascending pizzicato got worked in a scherzo-esque manner, but with awkward arching of ending of each sequence to comical effect. Principal horn then made loud yawn out of his call, that, then, handling of flute reprise of it then cloyed all life out of it, making me reflect on matters here at home (Houston). For all the cautious underlining that RSO violins put into it, they seemed enough in a hurry to have skipped almost a beat of rest right before. Janowski then gunned forward fortissimo reprise of the opening idea, but managed to lyrically shape what followed. He then at last managed to tighten matters up well through agitato portions of the Development section, but then went for incurable over-emphasis for transition into recapitulating horn-call motif in RSO violins, during which from them he made enormous self-parody out of what is often awkwardly achieved rhetoric anyway. With well marked accenting of upward tremolo arpeggi in the violins (with soggy support from the horns at a key moment or two), the recapitulation made for smoother sailing, at least until flabby accenting that announced onset of a cheaply, at times wildly sectionalized, heavily docked coda.

One might better observe a conductor perhaps less grounded in German romanticism, but with idea instead of how Brahms’s compositional processes developed, were cultivated out of knowledge of the music of Bach and looked forward too to the progressivism of the new Vienna school in some of its harmonic and melodic impetus. Such vision might spark considerably better artistry, results with this repertoire.

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