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.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Lyric Opera of Chicago: Kat'a Kabanova - Miller production, Karita Mattila in qualified success at repeat of 2004 Met triumph. November, 2009.

Memories come flooding back. Two of my best operatic experiences of this past decade, to open a new mil, have involved my favorite opera of Leos Janacek, Kat’a Kabanova. It was also great to have seen Elisabeth Soderstrom in the part here in Houston in the early 1980’s - paired with a fine, since little heard from Kabanicka (Jan Curtis) but it was as though as having occurred in a vacuum; both production and conducting (John DeMain) were so glib - DeMain’s only attempt at Janacek while here.

The next Janacek to see here was the very fine David Alden production of this Dallas had seen already (starring Elena Prokina and Judith Forst), starring here Catherine Maliftano and as Boris on short notice, Raymond Very. As expressionistic as it was, enhanced by the intense musical leadership of Asher Fisch and played in one act – though slightly undercut by hard look about Maliftano (though singing and acting the part very well) and by some tremolo from the Kabanicka - it stopped short of going too far this way. It also has proved one of David Alden’s very finest productions (as revived very recently by English National Opera) and also the most riveting evening of musical theater I had attended yet at Wortham Center downtown.

Equally fine and not to be under-rated is the Jonathan Miller production from the Met - loaned out to Lyric for this. Equal to Soderstrom in the part, maybe only other time thus far, was Karita Mattila in the title role. Capturing the innocence of Kat’a, her intense guilt feelings, remorse, psychological depth that must invest all this, intense desire for freedom, and soaring line to accompany all this made Mattila’s identification with Kat’a complete. Fortunately some of the same elements of her interpretation have persisted to this day, but sad to report here, not quite the same flexibility of voice to carry it all forward – with Lyric the easier place to sing than the Met.

The Met broadcast played Christmas Day and featured Judith Forst (Kabanicka), leading a very strong supporting cast (Silvasti, Merritt, Very as Kudrjash, Kozena, Ognovenko). The only thing that had me wondering was with Jiri Belohlavek’s relaxation of dramatic tension to perhaps beyond a good extent, even though moments of relaxation for nocturnal tryst should be palpable. Belohlavek appeared quintessentially attuned to Janacek (as fine rendition of Osud at the Proms proved recently) and for Act Two, that helped make up for some gap in tackling this score.

Belohlavek benefited from much focused interaction among cast of tremendous depth the Met put together – and also plentiful rehearsal time the Met still provided its guest conductors at that time. Very oddly, it was played on Christmas across the U.S. - a day after Houston had been dusted off with snow (first time to ever happen Christmas Eve) and hours before first news breaking of disaster in Indonesia that wretchedly took too many lives. It was a crisp, clear afternoon here; once Kat’a Kabanova finished, I had to suspend joining holiday festivities to go biking outdoors for a half hour to come up for air.

It was still evident from excellent investment in the text that the Miller production of Kat’a Kabanova was most likely one among best handful of productions the Met opened while under Joe Volpe (along with Miller’s Nozze di Figaro, the Wernicke Frau ohne schatten, Dorn Tristan und Isolde especially once revived for Met in HD, Flimm Fidelio starring Mattila – and under-rated Don Giovanni from 2004 - Marthe Keller).

Markus Stenz made a highly coveted Lyric Opera debut to conduct Kat’a Kabanova and had a good cast on hand to achieve almost similar results as heard from the Met five years ago. The soulful tug in the Lyric orchestra cellos during the prelude and piquant accents in light percussion and winds (with sleigh ride motif) were very apt, but also a tendency, toward maintaining a familiar romantic aura to the sound, to shy away from making angular as indicated some of Janacek’s rougher edges. Broken horn ostinati cutting into the texture for accompanying provocative dialogue from supporting cast on stage got underestimated.

Karita Mattila, as Kat’a, started out very promisingly, with Kat’a as we first see her under such heavy reproach. Though perhaps a little mature in timbre and heavier than ideal, she still brought out some of the soaring line in her extended scene with Varvara, concerning the birds, how much Kat’a would enjoy being like them – oblique reference to Puccini’s Madama Butterfly that Janacek had seen and loved. In desperate pleas to her husband toward end of Act One, Mattila affectingly took on some hardness, rigidity one associates with the Kabanicka, but therein also laid a risk of undercutting later passages.

It was still very evident that this was repertoire that still would suit her voice better than the heavier Puccini roles. Sense of guilt at first meeting Boris here sounded truly overwhelming, but she then moments later allowed both voice and persona to free up for sense of Kat’a being able to at least halfway enjoy this moment of freedom. It was also evident however that the very top of the voice, any notes lying more than a half-tone above the staff are no longer so reliable as they once were. Certainly the final monologues of the part brought to mind, in despair expressed, those in final scene of Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk – with Shostakovich having sought out Janacek’s musical example as well for similar social situation between the two heroines. Katerina, in the Shostakovich, is a part that would be ideal for Mattila to pick up very soon.

Katya’s plea to Boris to give alms to every beggar he meets made it a little too far into the throat to have the still resolve of someone so innocent as Kat’a is and determined to also end one’s life. One left this encounter with what had been a great interpretation of the title role with a little tougher or harder impression than desirable.

Judith Forst repeated her tough, malevolent Kabanicka from the Met five years ago, ideally so. It is not in the music or text to play the Kabanicka as victim of the social situation, as much as a continuing perpetrator of it, but one still sensed some hint of a woman trapped into the way she behaves or too willingly succumbing to her role as ever omniscient, omnipotent matriarch of the village. Even a hint of some warmth would come through vocally. Forst, while still playing the Kabanicka as the villain she is, also humanized the part, lifting it above caricature and thus making it more frightening than could a stock villain instead. Together with a little fruitiness to the timbre, she also found some of the Slavic wildness to Janacek’s writing. This joined her Pique-Dame Countess in Houston recently as one of the finest things I have ever heard her do. This was an altogether supreme and worthy achievement with this part, and one clearly lived in for some time with authority to show for it as well.

Brandon Jovanovich was very near as successful as Boris. He revealed fine baritonal depth to low notes, and free extension to an easily produced top. One found a Boris here, if not as acutely specific to its interpretative demands as Jorma Silvasti, more than close enough toward getting it just about entirely. There was a diffident shyness here, definitely which he allowed to be exposed in the final scene for Boris’s not being able or willing to stick around and up for what is right, regardless the cost. The sincere passion he feels for Kat’a and strong desire to break free, and also heavy sense of apprehension with going farther than he should with what is at stake were very apt.

Jason Collins was the sweet-toned, lyric Tikhon, but to a fault. As utterly determined, choleric the Kabanicka is, she might have decided by time action takes place that it may be her son’s fault things go so miserably. Even as pathetically impotent a character this is, he still makes his feelings, though ineffective toward any goal, heard –as Chris Merritt clearly did so at the Met. With a little more risk-taking for Tikhon, Collins may have it. Otherwise, this thankless part just blends into the wallpaper instead. Andrew Shore also started light as Dikoy – curious also being Alberich at Bayreuth under Thielemann (for one more summer), excerpt for hint of Bayreuth bark to indicate it here.. Low notes lacked depth. Judith Forst played their one scene together slightly more passively than usual, but fortunately Shore rose to the occasion for the dispute with Kudryash over the origins of electricity for what helped make an exciting start to Act Three.

Casting of the younger couple provided curious results. Liora Grodnikaite was the distinctively highly energetic Varvara - with tone having a cutting edge to it, Varvara’s interaction, especially with Kat’a, seemed more on edge, pushy, aggressive than is the norm. What playful innocence Varvara has, even if it looked it, vocally got pushed to the wayside. Maturation on Varvara’s part was felt, in her observing the consequence of what has transpired, but still within context of somewhat unvarying tone and attack.

Matching Forst in being ideal casting, but the very opposite in terms of character, was the Kudryash of Garrett Sorenson. This is for sure a future Boris, Laca, Albert Gregor. Everything about Kudryash got characterized here with easily produced top and slightly richer tone than may be always the norm. Sorenson managed to keep things light for this part, but also enlightened what progressive, ambitious characteristics and motives Kudryash has. Sorenson made on purpose a little heaviness in accent with the first folk song he gets in Act Two, but with all words and accents pointed just right. Kathleen Leemhuis made the eager, saucy Glasa - Amber Wagner as Feklusa and Paul La Rosa as Kulagin fine as well. The hearing of Boris and Kat’a toward very end of Act Two sounded too ‘echo chamber’ to be sufficiently backstage.

Markus Stenz, according to expectations, brought consistently good line, sweep, and ardor to this auspicious assignment. Until he got to the passages most specifically rehearsed for this – Act Three apparently – his Janacek suggested a glibly internationalized feel. Stenz’s objective take was clear, as was for the first two acts certainly lusty engagement with the music’s broader folk elements. Opening of Act Two had the slightly uneasy sway and swagger to it one seeks, then scene with Dikoy and Kabanicka good detachment as well. Support for his singers was consistently supple, including notably for Kat’a’s brief monologue about the birds midway through Act One.

The love scene in Act Two provided fine contrast between graphic depiction from Mattila, orchestra alike of her utter despondency or dread at attempting tryst with Boris and then acceptance with new shaft of light and lyricism to flood out the music, revealing that at last the stronger desire has won out - so mercilessly repressed until now. For sure, an oasis of temporary peace, real satisfaction follows. Denying at least in spirit what Janacek might indicate as to tempo relationships, Stenz became bent on lingering over so much. While the music describes so well stillness, a current carrying the action forward underneath and the utterly ephemeral character of the situation are still paramount. Such got missed here; Janacek could have almost been writing Jenufa again instead. The three fortissimo eruptions just past fading away voices of Varvara and Kudryash consequentially got mildly deflated.

Stenz then very effectively sustained line in Act Three through the ruminative laments of Kat’a in her despairing solitude, with light openly let in to anticipate and continue momentarily through Kat’a’s relief at opportunity to see Boris one last time. The violence and rapid interplay of all variety of contrasting elements during the storm were such, without for making special display, to prove Stenz fully on top of all issues involved in conducting this - what may have been subdued for getting insufficient rehearsal time for earlier scenes. The cumulative surge through the final two or three pages of this paralleled his very well stressed accenting with which he infused closing pages of Act One, bringing a very resourceful Lyric debut and this masterpiece to a fine close, with Kabanicka’s cool, cutting lines from Forst to cap it all off.

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Saturday, May 22, 2010

DSO Berlin: Herbert Blomstedt conducts Berwald, and from near equally Nordic perspective, a compelling Bruckner Ninth

The combination of a Franz Berwald symphony with the last and most forward looking of the Bruckner proved stimulating here – and in which way Herbert Blomstedt musically worked out what rationale there may be to putting both together. There were flaws in how Blomstedt went about things, not so much in conception, as perhaps a matter of complacency combined with cultural feeling from locus equipping him how it has - as influencing especially his way of interpreting the Bruckner. Apparently of great interest was how material is developed more than just its character itself. Blomstedt hears Berwald as fine at demonstrating this on its own, but for the Bruckner, here was a way Blomstedt intervened in abetting matters. Blomstedt, a seasoned interpreter of Sibelius, Nielsen, but also of Bruckner, was ultimately seldom far off any mark here with either.

Berwald’s music, for its even peculiar characteristics, appealed to me at a young age. He wrote four symphonies in the early 1840’s, soon after Schumann had started composing his. All of them bear descriptive titles instead of numbering. The ‘singuliere’ is presumably the third and likely the most dramatic as well. It carries with it – with scherzo middle section to central Adagio – the idea of being in a more conventional four-movement layout, even though in three movements. With the dancing, scherzo-like character for much of the ‘capricieuse’ it seemed superfluous to have added a full-fledged scherzo. Though not more so, the opening movement of Sinfonie capricieuse indicates as much his influence on Sibelius as on Carl Nielsen. According to Harold Truscott, It is his interesting manipulation of sonata form - with events placed often in different than usual order and way Berwald sheds light on doing so that is compelling.

Play the first movement of ‘capricieuse’ (Berwald’s second) also in D Major alongside scherzo of the Sibelius Second, should you have any doubt. There is no Sigmund Spaeth like detective work to do here – not like as could be for between tune to Chris Walken’s noir Dead Zone (what Walken is not film noir?) and second movement of Sibelius Second. Just the character of the writing is so similar; for that, momentarily. Sibelius hardly seems so original anymore. I unusually favor the Fourth, Sixth, Seventh over the Second among the Sibelius canon. That Berwald prefigured at all the towering Nielsen and Sibelius cycles just proves that from small acorns do large trees grow.

Blomstedt, very fine editor of the score to ‘singuliere’, felt here most attuned to the utter simplicity of Berwald’s inspiration. His music that Eduard Hanslick said (or carped) lacked creative power and fantasy does not lay it out on the surface that it indeed is in fact imaginatively creative. It is just different than what people in central Europe were accustomed to hearing. In its using such different language as it does, it may have even mildly proved an irritant; Berwald’s language is hardly more dissonant than what else was getting written at the time.

Berwald was hardly a radical, but it was his natural prerogative to discover how his structural methods should uniquely absorb sense of the wide expanse of space in which he lived most of his life. Such individual and subtle departure from classical principles of orchestral design is present just toward being distinct from much else. The polarity of tonal centers interval of a fifth apart that after Beethoven was taking somewhat of a hit anyway still interested Berwald, but while staying coherent, it was not, with attendant expected worked out implications, paramount. Interesting but flawed are the Thomas Dausgaard interpretations of the Berwald symphonies – Dausgaard who conducts Schumann with strings affecting method of playing on gut strings. Ostinato figure out of which the first theme of opening to the ‘singuliere’ is built gets to underpin during bridge passages ascending triplets that make it alone obliquely to tonal center a whole tone apart. Might you have trouble making it out, then Dausgaard is your man. I often argue for making music sound – not as the ‘period’ movement in using weaker instruments –as fresh and innovative as it did when new. Neeme Jarvi (DGG) is the most natural at characterizing both the more progressive and dramatic aspects of this piece.

Blomstedt for Sinfonie Singuliere maintained a relatively placid surface throughout, emphasizing very convincingly its unprepossessing qualities. His tempos tended toward spacious, especially for the first movement. What innovation, contrast Berwald achieved writing this piece is something Blomstedt, after so much work with Nielsen and Sibelius, hears as very much internally driven and accomplished. Crescendi on upward gallop of triplets animating much of the first movement were still present, but not underlined like for Dausgaard or given extra boost at all. Such made here an understated case for their harmonic underpinnings.

Blomstedt’s overall rhetoric, infused with simplicity, still came across assured. Flute trill to crest the ascending line of the first theme on first repeat emerged most naturally. Poco stringendo marked stretti ending both Exposition and the movement were firm. Four note brass intimated chorale came across ominously well. From support of building modal melodic patterns into this music, Berwald makes it more interesting than usual to start the Recapitulation from the subdominant (F Major), but Blomstedt declined to overtly point it out - in support of his more mature take on full landscape in view. Interplay of much figuration working throughout was supple and free.

While slightly betraying that this is not their standard repertoire, DSO Berlin strings continued to produce fine warmth for twilit color Adagio while still avoiding excess of vibrato or diffusion. Sequential closing statement to Adagio and its reprise received appreciative feeling for its expansive qualities, harmonization. Mendelssohn-ian elfin grace characterized the extended scherzo middle section, with roughness of edges slightly more smoothed out than ideal, but still with all accenting clear.

Blomstedt ultimately perhaps sold the finale slightly short, but started it off with healthy vigor nevertheless. Berwald bases a rondo episode – only superficially a new theme - on both thematic profile of and accompanying filigree to the first movement’s second theme, very cleverly so. Offbeat accented on purpose awkwardly shaped first theme tends to lean heavily into the subdominant to quite wittily but dramatically get jerked back into vigorously restating it in its home key. Similarly motivated ingenuity, irregularity occurs in Haydn. Experimentation with how tonal centers a whole tone apart interact is likewise provocative. Much optimism, inherent wit was still on display, but sharper profile to still better convey occasional flashes of diabolical wit might have helped well enhance how much Blomstedt had invested in this already.

It was perhaps from sensing little from the outset what was about that early phases following the opening to Bruckner Nine came off perfunctory, matter-of-fact, Strong affirmation opening earlier Bruckner symphonies here gets replaced by doubt, yet through all the chromatic, enharmonic spellings, transitions, there is still something slightly stronger than got restated here. This is so, even if the quality of such is infused by more an existentialist sense than customary for orthodox faith. Transitions framing the main theme of the Exposition lacked what might be sufficient decisive voice leading and mystery, respectively. Blomstedt even chose to openly yet subtly understate the sensuous longing infusing the second theme group, by ever so deftly shaving off the end of opening dotted half notes demarcating its main idea. Underlining of crescendi did not quite convince. Gradually through transition into third theme group did at last Blomstedt let in more air for mystery to envelop it. Sense of weariness with third theme group - though allowing line to just momentarily drift off before recovering it well – was very fine, within context of good line overall.

Development section in the first movement took on better shape, with brass rhetoric right for Bruckner’s increasingly indecisive restatements of chorale statement from earlier. Increasingly incisive shape to transitions inbetween proved solid. Strings, abetted by precise pointing from DSO woodwinds, then began to make something incendiary out of their tremolo and other figuration – smoldering quality underneath coloring all of the Ninth - as left over from blaze that at times engulfs the Eighth. Blomstedt could not fail to make it known. He even very adeptly had his strings here turn on a dime in shifting from laendler accents to making quick reach for fiery opening of the Recapitulation.

Shyness belaboring the Exposition statement of the same made for slightly flaccid accents from the brass upon this arrival. Blomstedt recovered quickly, in even riskily broadening upbeats from his violins, to help steeply mark the ascent to terrible F Minor climax to follow. Brass had it incipient to bring it off all the way, but Blomstedt, seeing ahead, refrained from giving it conventional full blast. Change of fifth in the timpani from low C down to A was really felt, enveloping great weary slow descent from DSO violins. Infusion of winds and brass in voice leading for the second theme recovered for it complete profile. All transition and spelling through third theme group and alternatively weary and fiery coda came off in sterling form.

Bucolic sense to randy, dry toned brass through the scherzo, instead of understating or making sterile its demonic character, enhanced it. DSO Berlin strings were found here to be both incisive and insinuating, with woodwinds precisely imitating their figuration Bomstedt, the first time through an accelerando not ‘imperceptible’ enough (as marked), right before recapitulatory statement of the first theme, made up for it by strongly marking the rustic accents through it, but was less observant at doing so upon its reprise after the tri section.. Still, arrival at cadences was very firm in their intensity. Excellent spring to line in the strings marked a both jaunty and breezy pace through the trio, though a little failure to yield – less bad than with Welser-Most in Cleveland – with line for cellos right past midpoint of this only almost here proved murder for principal flute and other woodwinds. There was ultimately little more in playing quality, interpretation one could have sought than put on display here.

Though excessively broad, less specific in shape than conventionally accepted for broad statement with which strings open the Adagio, it led for aesthetically the most difficult movement of the Ninth to very fine interpretation thereof. Dry brass underpinning of allargando line was very distinctive. It was most of all subtly the underlining with which Blomstedt infused developing both the opening theme and laendler second theme group that likely had to subconsciously influence what one’s perception of this music, of novel way to hear how it is constructed. Blomstedt approached it here – neither insipidly nor undercutting its sonorities, scale, or depth - conceptually as though chamber music. It was here most of all that one got rewarded by some subtle taking of risks.

In context of maintaining a fairly moderate pace, brass were allowed space for beautiful limning of their broken chorale lines off fine climax to the introduction, as to segue in the second theme group. Elegaic shaping of the second theme complemented sound and mindset of how the Adagio opened. Lighter accenting of following thematic consequents was both deft and intimate, but with little tempo contrast from already forward moving pace for the ‘etwas bewegter’ marking the consequents. Blomstedt compensated with excellent pointing of accents to all this. Inter-relation of thematic material of the Adagio started becoming prescient with violins’ gentle reprise of opening statement i through Development opening emotionally agitated B Minor inversion of first theme in trumpets over jagged, arched, heavy strings. Blomstedt maintained an electric current through all this – including the pianissimo trailing off that follows – to laendler infused allargando buildup to temporarily satisfying climax to the opening statement. Consistent with train of thought was subtle enhancement of angularity to second theme group, upon its reprise.

Brief paragraph of descending statement in full-toned strings proved momentary balm upon despondent restating mid-phrase from opening statement in the violins. The humanity of how this spoke was very moving - as though already to foresee the beautiful trailing off of everything at the end. Over almost manically insistent tread of hollow whole-tone intervals in the winds, DSO strings subtly made much of the Tristan-esque longing that segues over to buildup to shattering C-sharp minor climax.. Even with icy quality to string tremolo above oppressive brass, still paramount was the human voice.

Marking of crescendo into dominant seventh of the Neapolitan (F Major, in context of E Major) became intensely febrile. Out of what had started so matter-of-fact with this Bruckner Ninth emerged very much. Yielding winds sweetly cooled off the flame, answered by non-enveloped long weary sigh from the strings, before confident reach into restating the opening of the Bruckner Seventh with which the Ninth closes – with here most sublimely a living current still running through it all. Most sublime here was - this music could never be quite construed as optimistic - a sense of a positive force or moving forward at work, even amidst despair. As with life, it is the context in which we put so very much. Wise seer at hand here, speaking from considerable experience even if mildly shy of definitively was Herbert Blomstedt. As he’d agree, no wiser seer could be found in our midst than the composer Anton Bruckner himself.

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Saturday, May 15, 2010

RSO Berlin: Beethoven Symphonies 4, 5. Missa Solemnis. Marek Janowski. Soloists, Rundfunkchor Berlin. Philharmonie Berlin.

Symphonies No. 4 in B-Flat, Opus 60 and 5 in C Minor, Opus 67. RSO Berlin, Marek Janowski. 09.05.10 Not reviewed: Quartet in C Minor, Opus 18, No. 4 - Apollon Musagete Quartett.

Marek Janowski and RSO Berlin committed to doing a complete Beethoven cycle, this past season, yet seem to have come up with at best variable results. Janowski found adequate dark mystery for the slow introduction to the Fourth Symphony. Classical proportions, in term of the Fourth’s outer frame, were mostly well respected, but in this most enlightened-classical of the Beethoven nine, the internal working out of so much within seemed at best only halfway profiled.

The Allegro vivace got to a robust start, but with constantly insecure upbeats – in four and triplet sixteenths, alternatively in the violins – at approximately moderate pace through all this. All the upbeats were given some heft, some, but just sounded too insecure to be convincing. Second theme in good principal bassoon was fine, but as true with other transitions in the first movement, with crudely punched accents from full orchestra preceding it. – falling on off-beats. Handling of progression through straight staccato half note octaves in mostly strings proved stiff and flaccid – and made for equally stodgy results for first theme in closing section to the Exposition.

Development was handled with supple grace - until violins started increasing their maddening pickups. Janowski rushed the Recapitulation to effect of all internal vitality getting taken out, making us wait until RSO Berlin woodwinds warmly made good again with second theme. All then proceeded to an excessively plodding finish.

The Adagio started with second violins loud on accompanying dotted rhythms and firsts sagging on theme, improved upon then by principal woodwinds getting it – very fine principal clarinet being allowed good space for sublimely profiled second theme. Consequents to the first theme got way too heavily underlined in their thirty-second note slow arpeggi underneath - as to have been figuration written good distance east sixty years later. Brief retransition making it to the Recapitulation was very heavily stodgy through both tutti and divisi violins. Duet of horns on closing theme, replacing the fine duet of bassoons earlier in the Exposition got worked instead of being quite allowed space to naturally shape their line; final chords came off very phlegmatic.

At good, vigorous pace, accenting for the scherzo, for not having been internally worked out, also came across stodgy, leaving one a growing, nagging sense of two-dimensional perspective throughout all of this. Winds sang well the trio section, but in section eventually getting too pushed by Janowski, pulsation got thrown off again. Transitions back into the scherzo and coda all sounded clunky and support in sustained slow trill in lower strings, for reprise of woodwinds theme in the trio got mismanaged as well.

Loud tutti chords in the finale bloated and got punched - only undercutting a fine perpetual motion from the strings only so far. Progress through so much transition on straight sixteenths and through tricky modulations easily became too hefty and streamlined at once, ironically enough - no room allowed for adequate separations to be made between groups of sixteenths where very necessary.

Amidst so much sloppy about Bernstein’s late 1970’s semi-live Vienna PO Beethoven set, nobody could miss the triplets he made out of ‘Fate’ opening the Fifth Symphony. Same held true here. Janowski then proceeded to attempt correcting this, but still clipping rests – rests of course on where is usually found the downbeat. Janowski found it on the off-beat. He then rushed the buildup to the first full-scale tutti or ritornello, to try compensating for rhythmic lapse just encountered – thus making rhythmic organization of the first movement of the Fifth something verging on comparable to Lutoslawski. Unmemorable, stiff handling of the second theme, answering crudely overstated French horn then proceeded from there. Over-insistence with transition into the recapitulation and heavy thuds accenting end of the coda all lacked poise and internal fire to sustain and motivate all around decent start to both Recapitulation and Coda.

Even with phrasing well some variations that followed, first theme dotted rhythms in the first theme lacked good profile to start the Andante con moto. No underlining of reaching the cadence in the cellos could be of help, but try Janowski did anyway. Janowski did infuse long sustained arch from first refrain to second variation with good sense of awe. Coming off repeat of this however, brass and winds conspicuously, sounded lost on their voicing, leading principal bassoon to come in for some of the same dotted half note chords (that strings alone had previously) with new pitches for two or three of them. Janowski then reined things in good and tight, but with pummeling next statement of the refrain. Transition through minor mode episode proceeded well, until self-conscious underlining of slow scale-wise passages in the winds. The shaping of this Andante overall, with fine resonance all across RSO Berlin, was good - such to have left it, if not the most inspiring profile, adequate.

Cellos and basses had to wait until shift to the subtonic (B-flat Minor) to find thematic shape.. Horns giving out ‘Fate’ in three managed to simultaneously be lean in tone and lumpy in accenting. Such stodginess did not fully lift until Trio section got underway. Extra lift, to pianissimo reprise of the scherzo turned precious, but good mystery was found for opening transition into the finale – Janowski letting it slip until right moment several bars later for things to break.

Janowski settled for docking to open the celebratory finale, then rushing through what followed. In order to maintain equilibrium, he heavily pointed off-beats in violins leading into transition toward the second theme – most of the transition once it had arrived spirited and in good shape. Pulling back string tremolo articulation of the second theme to mid-ground, especially upon repeating it, then turned things insipid. Janowski could not make his personalized accommodation of a lack of technique really quite adequately fit in with all the rest. Reference to triplet infused transition to the second theme Janowski layered on with scherzo-like lift, that upon reprise of it in full just seemed all out of context. Even Janowski’s attempt at lightness for mid-finale reprise of the scherzo fell flat – then several minutes later to find Janowski shot-gunning the suddenly faster section of the Coda – usual joyous conclusion here taking back seat to previous obstruction disrupting flow or charge ahead.

Janowski clearly comes from the Central European tradition – mostly its Eastern half we associate with Klemperer, Masur, Tennstedt, Sanderling, etc. His objective classical approach is hardly in doubt, but nowadays the lack of any real finesse and what even can come across as smugness both make things insipid. One easily finds accents too in his conducting too that have nothing to do with anything except to accommodate both his and his ensemble’s technical, musical, and aesthetic shortcomings.


Missa Solemnis, Opus 123, in D Major. Camilla Nylund, Iris Vermilion, Mark Padmore, Franz-Josef Selig, Rundfunkchor Berlin. Simon Halsey. RSO Berlin, Marek Janowski. 04.09.10

No greater challenge exists, not just among Beethoven’s works, than Missa Solemnis – a piece as symphonic in its formal elements as the symphonies themselves. For Janowski to have succeeded at the entire thing having held together speaks of some experience. However, it became clearly felt soon before halfway through this, very similar compromises as cited above continued happening – mostly within interaction between orchestra and chorus. There was thus so little aesthetic to have been gained from the experience. Easier slower passage such as opening ‘Kyrie’ ranked among only barely a handful of exceptions. The moderate pacing had appropriately weighty and measured feel to it. Janowski handled transitions, circumspectly balancing almost all therein, such as not only transition into, out of awkwardly written middle section, but through intimating secondary development within return to ‘Kyrie’ from “Christe eleison.’

Opening of the ‘Gloria’ and yielding thereof into ‘Et in terra pax’ posed no immediate problems, with underlying orchestral and choral support strong, and forward moving line maintained well. The first barriers to achieving clean attack from choral and orchestral forces for Janowski occurred with the ‘glorificamus te’ fugati that while concluding series of them made tentative accents of such. The yielding ‘Gratias, agimus,’ started off too loudly by Mark Padmore, came across very close to as tense, with accenting of Domine Deus’ tentative. Janowski then gave all from the subdominant minor consequents of ‘Domine fili’ through usually very interesting modulations and expressive underlining through ‘Qui tolls’ and ‘Suscipe’ minimal care - unyieldingly so – finally to the extent all direction to line got lost. Even through much interesting coloring going on, forward motion must not get betrayed – keeping whole picture in mind. However, this is also late period Beethoven, which aesthetically requires that such contrasting phrasing and other elements infusing it receive better hint than achieved here of what is their due.

Following phlegmatic close to final ‘miserere nobis’ or two, accenting to ‘Quoniam tu solus sanctus’ proved choppy - separations therein too wide - and following fugue taken quasi-academically. Mark Padmore’s solo entrance withmundane fugue subject, was just that - strictly beat just as Janowski’s conducting of all the rest.. All cumulative sense was weak. Efforts at times to conserve energy were readily apparent, but the strain on all forces involved in taking onBeethoven’s superhuman development of his material through steadily moving forward, but obviously fatigued close to ‘Gloria’ was self-evident.

Opening to ‘Credo’ got some air taken out of it, by weak accenting, too loose a handling of its open chordal structure, and overall Biedermeier feel to enshroud it all; fugato of ‘consubstantiatem’ turned out positively jaunty here.. After Mark Padmore’s ringing, ardent opening to ‘Et incarnates est’, all mystery to so much awe and wonder got lost - with Iris Vermilion (mezzo) groping very well as how to make echo of the right sentiment here – over chords in RSO Berlin woodwinds. One then had to wait until end of ‘Passus’ to find due gravitas, mystery – beyond most generic. Energy conservation even here remained first priority. Mark Padmore alone made ‘Crucifixus’ meaningfully expressive.

‘Et resurrexit’ might have awakened a handful, but one must doubt if any more. Accents in rapid-paced violins, contrary to what might be expected form eastern central Europe, proved positively Rossinian and ensemble loose to reinforce a clearly anti-climactic sense to it all. From here through imposing ‘Et vitam venturi’ fugue - it became further and most evident something clearly wrong thus far with balancing between orchestra and chorus - chorus conspicuously placed well in front– enormous flaw too of Solti’s 1970’s Chicago discs of this - Lucia Popp soloist no less. Words should remain clear - none of this to turn into one great diaphanous blend, as for instance with von Karajan. However, once articulation of form gets lost even more so here, so does much else - as especially for what cause any of the words are set to music.

The fugue - right after hard jerk forward with single line of 'Et exspecto' that did not quite match any height of eloquence - proved a repeat of problems that had plagued this Missa Solemnis most of the way thus far. Choral sopranos got found high and dry for strained high B-Flats, plus a couple of sudden speed-ups in tempo detaching so much from all the rest, Camilla Nylund (soprano) rushed through her ‘Benedictus’- anticipating closing lines, soggy final choral ‘Amen’s and Philip Glass streamlined handling of rushing figuration in strings to attempt offsetting the anomaly of how all this occurred.

Soggy launch of ‘Sanctus’ came as no surprise - flaccid placing of accents all about. How one could miss shape to ‘Pleni sunt coeli’ – the simply laid out forthright fugato this is and that of brief ‘Osanna’ to follow was curious indeed – in anticipation of a flat-line while still sonorous Praeludium.. Solo violin obbligato to the Benedictus, unfortunately abetted by RSO winds toward the start of it, proved very shift, accent heavy with little point to it being so. It also proved awkward support for Camilla Nylund, who achieved sweet enough tone on top, good feel for her lines, but support issues of her own all the same. There could have even been quite a fight on her hands, but she graciously avoided such. Slow choral re-entry of ‘Osanna’ toward bringing things down to earth hardly achieved such; there was little here from which to have descended.

Franz-Josef Selig, who earlier proved curiously baritonal, made so very expressive the most of his opening lines in ‘Agnus Dei.’, providing first clear direction to line, even with the still ever dependable bassoons of RSO Berlin to have preceded him, and the steady, reliably very expressive Iris Vermilion – nearly his equal here – to follow him. Brass of RSO Berlin here though proved soggy through ‘Miserere nobis’ for what should instead be hieratic. Camilla Nylund, with melos, sounded refreshed from having emerged relatively unscathed from the preceding ‘Benedictus’ – real minefield that it could have become. Janowski eventually caught on with energy to spare to limn expressive obbligato lines in his violins, for us to hear expressive change of color and harmony through them – one of his better moments throughout the entirety of this.

Minimal calibration for accenting ‘Dona nobis pacem’, including for its martial accents, proved inadequate. Sweeping, broad statement to vulgar extent got made out of repeated cadential phrase out of this - such that closes the entire work, underneath weakly achieved, supported lines of staccato, light legato in first flutes and violins.

As for the soloists, Iris Vermilion, with rich, even tone, proved a strong asset throughout. Mark Padmore had issues with vocal placement vis-à-vis so much awkward writing, but along with his expressive account of ‘Crucifixus’, he was most effective in some of this part’s most incisive writing, i.e., the agitated pages during ‘Dona nobis pacem’ soon before the end. What sounded mediocre was going for kind of a fake head or falsetto for also in ‘Agnus Dei’ the writing in duet with the mezzo (Iris Vermilion), for what amounted to duet between two contraltos, even blues-y at it – with little from Janowski to counteract such - Angus Dei then, when it’s got the blues.

Padmore is remembered as the very fine Bach Matthew Passion Evangelist for Rattle last spring. Camilla Nylund faced here a part one size smaller than she is most accustomed to sing nowadays, but shaped it here as though having been all along a lyric - we know from not only recent choice of repertoire certainly a pushed lyric perhaps more often than should be. It only depends on what one’s standard is as to what should be expected of getting performed this peak among late 18th century and Romantic choral repertoire – a work so uniquely, elusively cast in such an intellectually achieved free-form orchestral layout. There still remain those capable of approximating well what aesthetic vision in mind here is - highly doubtful Janowski ever might join that select few.

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Tuesday, May 4, 2010

MET - Rossini: Armida (Met premiere). Rare must-see gem of masterpiece faithfully played, blandly produced. Triumph for Larry Brownlee. 01.5.10

Regardless how it may turn out, a production of Rossini’s Armida is a great event.

Long before the World Cup, Rossini experimentally wrote a trio for three tenors that the world cup trio, to best of my recollection, never touched. What revivals of Rossini’s Armida there have been have been rare. There was the famous 1952 Firenze revival with Maria Callas, also featuring Mario Filippeschi as Gernando and Ubaldo and a young Gianni Raimondi (in Act 3) as Carlo. Tulsa Opera, of all companies, put it on in 1992, for very unique observation, I recall reading, of Rossini bicentennial that year.

Armida marks Rossini’s only thorough engagement of the supernatural in one of his operas. Third among his Neapolitan opera seria, it served to reopen (after bad fire) the San Carlo in Naples. For this, Rossini expanded upon significantly what he could thus far make an orchestra do. Of the story of a sorceress’s seduction of a Crusades knight, Rossini capitalizes most of all on making this a love story between Armida and Rinaldo. As enhanced by his employ of exotic harmony and color, at peak thus far of intellectual acumen mixed with his passion for Isabella Colbran, who created the part, Rossini crafted this narrative with commanding subtle complexity. Its simplicity of design also becomes arresting to anyone who becomes intimately familiar with this work.

Rossini left open the option of a company having only to hire four tenors instead of six for Armida, by having two tenors double up on available parts. Three of the tenor parts are fiercely difficult, those of Rinaldo, leader of the paladins Goffredo and the jealous Gernando. The Met opted for hiring six tenors and for two earlier performances in the run, had found them. Two cancellations however unfortunately ensued, those of Bruce Ford as Goffredo and then Jose Manuel Zapata as Gernando. John Osborn, here last fall in Houston for other than vocally disastrous Elixir of Love, replaced Ford, cleanly so. Barry Banks added Gernando to being cast as Carlo.

Mary Zimmerman, of last-season La Sonnambula notoriety (for which Natalie Dessay, unqualified, joined her as co-producer) staged this, the Met’s first Armida. Only hinted at, fortunately, was silly post-modern feeling of play within play of Armida, compared with Sonnambula staged as rehearsal thereof. An always mute, cherubic figure in pink, Amor, was first to enter the stage (with sign proclaiming E allora fu), cloyingly becoming annoying right away. Zimmerman gratefully made mostly more deft use of this mute part past the first half hour or so of Armida. Put however two sofas on stage for Act One, set during first Crusade at camp outside Jerusalem, and the set design in light tan with motif of palm trees would be easy to mistake for lobby of a large La Quinta Inn. Deflating so well indeed was the costuming for the maitre-d’ and waiters, oh the knights, to make up Act Onemen’s chorus. The costumes resembled so much quasi plastic thin metal for tank top breastplate over teletubby approximating red flannel. Fortunately solid-with-trim costuming of lead characters, simple along Napoleonic era lines, worked very well, apart from the all slightly loud and coy light magenta among three gowns Fleming wore

Riccardo Frizza, on Met podium with Rigoletto last season, made his Met in HD debut with Armida. Rossini, with very fine orchestra at his disposal in Naples, wrote in much infusion of often exotic color into his scoring to just both good extent for him personally and a little beyond what could be expected at the time, where best serving his purposes both musically and dramatically. It is all by now so subtle to our ears as we hear what was so innovative of him at the time, thus the only sufficient way to listen to Rossini is as though, best we can, with good approximation of how people heard things during his day. Facing what little Frizza saw on stage here, it may have become easy to settle for casual minimum in bringing out the fine color in Rossini’s orchestration.

Frizza led the Met orchestra through this with optimum rhythmic and stylistic clarity for most of it, plus good support for his singers, but often unimaginatively. What he is capable of accomplishing can be heard on recordings of Matilde di Shabran and Fille du regiment (that he also conducted in Houston in 2007). His orchestra in Genoa on Fille du regiment, with horns of Tyrolean flavor, brings out more color than one normally suspects that score calls for.

There were such highlights here as well, particularly with the ballet music in Act 2, with incisive spring and charm to its rhythms and colors, and atmospherically idyllic introduction to open Act 3 Frizza characterized equally well. Solo winds and jousting antiphony of solo horns (in the Sinfonia) gave always of their very best. Rafael Figueroa got pushed for whatever reason through his Act 2 Rinaldo/Armida duet cello solo introduction, for playing proving anything but sensuous or demure. David Chan was hardly more subtle for parallel concertmaster solo in Act Three. Choral work for the men lacked heft for Rossini’s proto-Trovatore writing assigned them. Good handful among nymphs looked the aging butter-and-eggs variety, sounding it as well If these be nymphs, I divert mine eyes from how the used up may appear. With better than streamlined rehearsal time for drawing out the color in Rossini’s scoring, thereby to infuse this music with consistently driving passion, Frizza could have given it his all.

John Osborn delivered first vocal splendors as Goffredo. He managed to find good vocal placement, showing fine rhythm and rhetorical sense for the brilliant writing in front of him. A hint of steel in his voice fit very well too, with no loss of agility. Rossini with this religiously zealous leader of the paladins subtly reveals in Goffredo’s writing what chinks are in his armor in ability or not to resist Armida’s charms. He also had in Giuseppe Cicimarra a singer who was, according to Richard Osborne, dramatically weak. Rossini had had to compose Iago for him and did so in a way widely considered low-key, with exception of several pages therein. Osborne, however, added in perhaps one or two pieces of ornamentation too many, such that took him through a squeal of a high C – little more sign of weakness than Rossini had in mind. Donald Kaasch, from Pesaro (1992), is still less considerably capable of so much embellishment as he throws in. He and Daniele Gatti are also both too lavish about embellishing Rossini’s rhythms.

Yeghishe Manucharyan made an ideally Mozartean Eustazio. As weak a character Eustazio is – as balance to his brother Goffredo and the furious Gernando – he brought fine measure of dignity to the simple part. Barry Banks, stepping in for Jose Zapata, was the new Gernando, proving two-dimensional at it. For numerous lines that start on low notes and also cover a wide range, Banks invested more snarl than tone. A mildly cracked tone emerged for most of this. When he returned, well rested, for his originally scheduled part of Carlo, Banks then emerged at his lyrical best - good and firm too in showing outrage at Rinaldo; he supported Brownlee very capably for centerpiece of Act 3 - an only now on cusp of familiar trio for three tenors. Filling out the rest of that equation was Kobie van Rensburg, quoted in interview of Ubaldo (like Gernando) having been composed for bari-tenor Claudio Bonoldi, proved musically sensitive, adept, but tonally weak, even slightly cracked for ability to provide optimum support during the trio.

Renee Fleming pleasantly proved still capable of singing the title role, apart from several high notes by now a little tight. As said elsewhere, this was a sorceress on low ebb or smolder - denying even of fully open sensual allure to have debauched more than the most impressionable knight. Together with plethora of glottal stops, light guttural attacks, there was an incipient split-second hesitation before taking on many dauntingly virtuosic lines in this part, including during Act One quartet - moment at which we need Armida to make the strong Circe-like impression with which she should indulge us. Such should ring true also for the mesmerizing theme and variations of Act Two, with which to set down pat a complete seduction of Rinaldo. So many aspirates in coloratura only hint at folly the amount of time Fleming has committed to singing bel canto.

Fleming’s acting of Armida also raised questions. Taken with somewhat verismo vocal means, there is a postmodern glib irony to it all. Even conventionally, Armida makes use of irony in a conniving, manipulative way toward both getting her way and gaining as much control possible over the knights. This however is something a little different. Rossini’s infatuation with Isabella Colbran comes through in the great allure of his writing for the sorceress. As part however of Armida being a star vehicle for Renee Fleming, here is way of playing the sorceress as victim to lace the part with irony as device for merely artistic ingenuity’s sake – to portray being on the defensive. Those evil, plundering Christian knights, it is easy to see why.

The creamy, warm sound, good depth in lower register and bright top, it is good to report still are intact, even for Rossini. The glottal stops, guttural business, though still there, get applied less broadly than how she went about things in Pesaro, but with voice now slightly less free, flexible than surely it had been at time of doing that. Though still in mildly generic verismo manner, Fleming did manage to put her all well into the final scene of the opera to play jilted lover incisively as we expect - except that in her way with Armida, Fleming makes the outcome feel anticipated from considerably earlier in the opera than has Rossini. Curious indeed was the blues bend, blend she and too easily allured head-voiced Lawrence Brownlee gave their brief Act 3 duet ‘Soavi cateni’ – not to mention how much more cute Larry and Renee looked together on stage for this than they had already. ‘Soavi cateni’ now might make newest crossover hit for Captain and Tenneille – might they still be up to it. It is great how Fleming still encourages, promotes careers of young singers so much - singers from such a diversity of backgrounds as highly gifted Tianjin born bass Shenyang to previously, as suggested, Youngstown, Ohio boy Lawrence Brownlee.

I have almost already had to stop myself short of calling the opera Rinaldo for what Brownlee contributed to this. His manner of phrasing, tone color is what one might call little less typical for Rossini than that of Juan Diego Florez, except that Rossini was so diverse in branching out to find color with which to infuse his parts, even outside of bel canto convention - in many instances far from purely so. At 37 years old, nothing is too effortful for Brownlee in this part that, like Pirro, Agorante, Otello, Rodrigo (Donna del Lago) was composed for Andrea Nozzari. Tenore di forza aspects of Rinaldo here might, in comparison with a Bruce Ford or Chris Merritt before, be understated, but Brownlee’s stance in being authoritative with so many lines was still secure. He communicated a wealth of acting, stage savvy to back himself up on too - should variety of tone color not be quite complete for subtly complex assignment as this.

There was nobody on stage who sounded more lyrical Saturday, with sufficient bloom to enhance so well the lilt and ardor that characterizes Rinaldo, over indeed very treacherous terrain, covering a very wide range, with leaps occurring of well over an octave. His manner of embellishing the line was the most subtle, judiciously applied of the entire cast. He made all this happen with fine agility and judiciously again with opening out of much with which one should endow Rinaldo Peter Volpe filled in as drily voiced Idraote - Keith Miller the physically agile and vocally sufficiently even Astarotte.

Producer Mary Zimmerman did intermittently contribute several clever touches. Slow motion swordplay anticipation of Rinaldo and Gernando really having it out worked very well. Though distracting from overall dramatic flow and attention getting for its own sake, the choreography (Graciela Daniele) for the Act Two ballet was incisive, beguilingly complex in pattern for well striped tailed demons creating havoc across the stage. As for the mute parts of Amor and Vendetta - too much diva props during final scene of the opera, Vendetta played by bare chested walking ad for Mens’ Health or Gold’s Gym - the less seen the better. It is better to opt for the good lighting design available here to accentuate Armida’s even willfully quick vacillations between two conflicting emotions so beautifully and dramatically delineated by Rossini than for so much leaning back and forth between two such silly figures on stage. Deflating too is having a wall cut off most of the Met stage behind Fleming for the final scene, as doing so cuts off so much perspective. There is this great uncertainty at which Rossini leaves things, concerning which direction his sorceress will turn to next.

Intermission features for this in-HD Armida turned out dreadful. Lawrence Brownlee walked in, chaperoned arm in arm with Renee Fleming over to Deborah Voigt. For neither any man nor woman is Brownlee house boy in the least. Fleming had already appeared solo before Deborah Voigt. It could have been a bright idea to have entire time taken up by conversation with Phil Gossett - apparently on board for musical preparation here - in company with all three,. What, could have Met staff feared that Gossett might again pull out a funny quote, such as obscenity Rossini inscribed on one page of Otello? Instead we got one big worship-LaRenee-fest for good half of everything. No mention of the San Carlo, Isabella Colbran, Andrea Nozzari, orchestra in Naples, Rossini’s multicultural emphases in his scoring, traditions of ornamentation was made - except for La Renee to compare the latter with blues or gospel improvisation.

All the talk of being a great team player also got annoying fast - scripted partly by the little Napoleon who behind scenes runs everything at the Met. One might think the U.S. now enters its own phase of the old and rightly so heavily derided social realism of forty-plus years ago. What is good for the corporate welfare state is what we should expect as best for the arts we patronize - standard by which the arts should now always comply. That included Saturday promo of the new production of the Ring at the Met that as Debbie explains, just simply tells the story.

All art, theater, recreation of it, is representational. Especially in our day and age, there is really no such thing anymore as just simply telling the story – just so much horseshit – and with the paltry way in which things get rehearsed so often. The Met’s show of playing Armida, sets and costumes wise, on the cheap, was deflating. At least as planned, the casting for this new production however was indeed luxurious.

This was still Rossini’s Armida. One, if not yet, still absolutely must go see it. In the end, all the parody of diva conniption with the small wand that Fleming carries around with her as Armida between her and Voigt was cute, but ultimately just so silly. Fact of the matter, neither one of them has one.

It appeared as though few of the men on Met stage for this Armida had one either.

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Sunday, May 2, 2010

BBC: Halle Orchestra. Markus Stenz - Reflections on varying stages of life. Mahler 4. Schubert. Carolyn Sampson. Manchester (UK).

Markus Stenz’s one other appearance for a complete Mahler symphony cycle at Bridgewater Hall, involving both the Halle and the BBC Philharmonic, continued here with the Fourth. Numerous symphonies in the series are accompanied by including a new work that reflects upon what Mahler symphony, to begin with, is on the program. With the Second, space constraints prevented my mention of Crossing the Alps by Colin Matthews, a choral piece of flexibly shifting bi-tonalities, lasting eight minutes. It all sounded as challenging, compared with really crossing the alps, as technical climbing of sidewalk along north face of Uxbridge Road – for all the effort troupe seen putting into it. Inoffensive but unmemorable was this setting of Wordsworth.

This program, that opened with the original, then discarded second movement of Mahler’s First Symphony, called Blumine (recorded by Ormandy, Ivan Fischer, Mehta, Frank Brieff before, as part of the First), featured as companion to the Fourth - with Franz Schubert’s ‘Einsamkeit’, D. 620, as orchestrated by Henze protégé Detlev Glanert.

The sweet naivete of Blumine made it an ideal opener. Markus Stenz and strings of the Halle made febrile rustle of the breeze that, so facile, ushers in the bel canto melody, that principal trumpet of the Halle sang forth with tartly sweet ardor. What dark currents occur in the middle section of this were well pointed - also well pointed how short-lived they are, with gentle push forward into Neapolitan for relative minor key and then subtonic to the C Major Blumine is in - to reprise main idea in B-Flat Major. After colorfully moving through tertiary related key areas to full blossoming out in C Major, all here just wafted by with fine ease in ascending light, violins to most exquisite close.

‘Einsamkeit’ (“Solitude’) is set to poetry - philosophical testament - by Johan Mayrhofer, bosom buddy of Franz Schubert at the time - Schubert just barely out of his teens. The model of Beethoven’s unusually successful An die ferne Geliebte came to Schubert’s mind – toward his putting together probably his first song cycle - slightly longer than the Beethoven. Each of the six strophes making up this poem – each paired with antistrophe – begins with a heartfelt request, ultimately taken together covering some, figuratively speaking, of what is called the Seven Stages of Man – according to insightful liner notes by Graham Johnson (in Hyperion’s Schubert edition).

Two facts remain for introducing this piece. First of all, one title in ‘Winterreise’ coincides with the name of this song; similarity between that simple piece and this ends there. Paradoxically, this is not quite the best poetry that Schubert ever set to music. Reading it without the mostly inspired music to which it is set can strike one as pedantic, even quite naïve, clichéd. Beethoven, Johnson explains, conformed in what text he chose to more conservative among contemporary tastes than did Schubert in picking Mayrhofer.

Detlev Glanert has settled for pastel colors, smooth contours - more than likely he should have – in orchestrating the Schubert. Otherwise, this is successful work and here got played very well. Mellow lower winds introduce opening scene in an abbey, where we may more conventionally expect brass to more hieratic effect, with narrator, soprano Carolyn Sampson in this instance, pensively reveling in the solitude of abbey life (likely during which Schubert met Mayrhofer). Sampson came across here shade or two too light for singing this, but largely made up for any lack for the covered tone with which she expressed over chromatic harmony the first episode’s pensive thought – verging on deep melancholy. Stenz most effectively underlined trumpets cutting through strings to catch very well the restiveness to characterize the first antistrophe – cause for anxiety the idea of breaking free from abbey life.

Schubert expresses the quest to be active in life and then past another antistrophe to be among mix of good company by most Biedermeier means, so that Glanert is mostly free of fault for not coming up with the most imaginative solution to these two brief strophes, except for, in scoring, missing the hollow tone of repetitiveness and of the text itself toward end of the latter. The antistrophe in-between follows a hearty, naïve march in the winds to take us through moment of pensive daydreaming out to rural landscape, with it audible shepherd’s horn softly replaced by trumpets and flutes within perfectly bucolic air - Sampson’s voice filling things out so well. The yearning Sampson conveyed during third antistrophe, in E-Flat Minor, was most affecting.

Following a romanza (fourth strophe) with Sampson finding ideal bliss to fill out Schubert’s underlining of ‘Liebe’ and seligkeit’, Glanert most effectively has scored, with arch detachment probably the least effective passage of this piece – fourth antristrophe with its thinly inspired bellicose accents. Firm slow cortege on marked dotted rhythms for what followed got very close to as effectively scored. From Sampson for next strophe, while picking up pace of the dotted rhythms, one missed the firmness expected from a deeper voice, toward making felt the stark antiwar protest of the lyrics here. All peacefully opened out with guileless ardor into great contentment found at last in solitude, nature all about - with Glanert having strings undulate the least intrusive lilting barcarolle rhythm which Schubert has had accompany the narrator’s final lines.

Carolyn Sampson was less than perfectly ideal in sustaining legato for such a passage, but feeling for the text, emotional purity and quest for finding as much tonal variety as is feasible all worked to her advantage. She is hardly more at fault to attempt this than Robert Holl or Nathan Berg who take the entire song a third down, and are each mildly too heavy for it, while she has settled for ‘Einsamkeit’s original key.. Stenz here made a consistently most sensitive accompanist, catching so well the willfully shifting moods of this piece, understatedly scored by Detlev Glanert.

Stenz, after interval, then proceeded to make close to a true bucolic romp out of first movement of the Mahler Fourth Symphony, still stopping short of making something two-dimensional or shallow out of this – as for instance did Abbado for DGG thirty years ago. Tempo choices for playing the introduction and reprise thereof were inconsistent here, willfully so, but all working within a context where, as Stenz hears it, everything can sound forth spontaneous and free. One should not more than lightly begrudge Stenz for taking such open liberties. All parody, pomposity, latter including that of the French horn in way he randy-toned went about the quote from Beethoven’s Fourth Piano Concerto in the coda, got underlined here with wonderful fervor and intensity - always stopping short of getting self-conscious or excessively breaking line. Harsh muted trumpet, mixed with percussion and flute sonorities rang out in full relief, especially during the Development. Toss-off of music to trail off from quote of upcoming Fifth Symphony opening ideally made the sublimely ephemeral thereof, with slow lilt into recapitulation mid-phrase to follow. The subito piu mosso off the sleigh bells to open the first movement was hardly at all excessive. Parody in underlining Haydn-esque closing theme with hard bumps forward where called for was ideal.

One had throughout the first movement the feeling of musicians being highly well prepared and at once thoroughly, unabashedly enjoying themselves, so simply bringing out this music’s rough edges. Stenz’s interpretation has reminded me here somewhat of Jonathan Nott’s with Bamberg at the Proms several years back – arguable whether more ideally or not - in more of a Romantic filled out sense - yet without shirking any of this music’s frequent asperity or harsh dissonances. Such held true in the macabre scherzo, with sting on high F in G Minor in violins most searing in its main section. Only the ‘ohne hast’ that Mahler marked for the scherzo seemed to get put aside. The most Vienniese lilt otherwise characterized Stenz’s manner, with Lynn Fletcher’s playing demonic fiddle with good arch tone.

Incisively placed muted trumpet staccato arpeggios in reprise of the main section of this contrasted with the lazy gait Stenz gave reprise of the simple laendler trio section that opens out from F Major to, understated by Stenz, idyllic episode in D Major with all deft grace possible. Stenz toward end of final reprise of main section only missed underlining French horn on brief solo to extent he should. Winds, though, explained the going bad of fairy tale only as apologetic for the consequences. Such made, without turning coy, for just the height of badness in confronted odd scenario here.

Schubertian restful poise was found to open ‘Ruhevoll’ - the ‘poco’ in Poco Adagio ideally well observed. Stenz, breathing the lines of this so naturally through Halle strings, eschewed making the utterly sublime out of opening the movement that to 101 strings level can in all truth become far too limned too early on, insipidly so, but not here. All was internalized to extent that one hardly could resent lack of there being much of a slowdown as marked for the first Minore episode in this double variations movement. As episode proceeded, Stenz gradually infused it with deep requisite yearning, expressive depth. Stenz, though seeming slightly restive in moving return to the Maggiore - Mahler only gradually having shifted the pace - beautifully made up for what only by some may be construed wrong by completely waiting for the zuruckhaltend (holding back) to be marked toward end of this episode to observe it. By some standards such strict observation was most unusual; it also proved so refreshing.

Oboe starkly opening second Minor episode in Phyrgian mode G Minor prefigured impassioned outcry in strings in tritone-related C-Sharp Minor with something veering toward Italianate fervor in handing such out so openly.. Stenz then eschewed making too exaggerated - back in Maggiore - the speed-ups to follow, content with pointing the humor of doing so with plentiful detail for point to fully get across. Again, very refreshingly, Mantovani failed to make it through rear or stage door for reprise of Poco adagio, coming upon the grandiose pomposity that follows to ‘open gates of Paradise’, sense of which Stenz clearly on purpose maintained as still seeming at a distance. He most unusually brought out conspicuously an open non-harmonized third/fifth on D (with only fourth below in harps to give it so hollow support) in muted horns, chimed with hollow tone right before bombast to ensue.

In sonorities to follow ‘gates of paradise’ only expressing longing or desire to completely dissolve into the blue, allusion found before to 1950’s dance hall pop very refreshingly did not emerge here. If any moment in Mahler has perhaps resembled something Lawrence Welk so often, this one has. Stenz, with his background in Second Vienna School through Rihm, Stockhausen, Henze, will not allow it.

With that consideration in mind, the ‘himmlische Leben’ finale opened with unforced ease - good pointing of laendler throughout with hard accents on off-beats for touch of roughness or contaminazione made intact. Pace moved breezily forward - without pushing too hard ahead - until final stanza in E Major. Acrid however were the pushed loud ritornelli based upon sleigh bells from opening movement, as Stenz pointed them. Carolyn Sampson found herself vocally on home turf here for sure, keeping innocence of this vision completely with the words themselves, thus refraining from making coy her lines or vocal color. Her voice then filled out for relaxed gait with which Stenz took the final and most sublime stanza that again so warmly brought this symphony to a close.

Here was a Fourth fully attuned to the ‘Wunderhorn’ of Mahler’s early adulthood, with bucolic element infusing it never put away for more sublime heights to be achieved here or anywhere. Accents of what is to follow in Mahler, in his later symphonies, in clearly but gently progressive manner, got fully observed and as unashamed of their dissonances - without having to skewer ensemble balances to get them. By contrast to that was the fully song-like ardor Stenz lent the second theme of the first movement and stark, ebullient lift he gave the jugglers-in-the-temple marcia idea – announced boldly on solo flute early during the Development.

The Halle Orchestra returned in this series with the Eighth and Ninth Symphonies conducted by their music director Mark Elder. During its Barbirolli days, the Halle would most frequently get deduced, perhaps accurately so as being third tier or lower rung second tier. Barbirolli would be taken aback by the stark relief and flexible manner of phrasing Mahler Stenz has availed himself of here. Barbirolli openly shirked music expressing modernism to exceed either that of Schoenberg’s Pelleas, Delius, or Malcolm Arnold. Other than some weakness in the double basses, the Halle is under such men as Elder, Stenz, and Nagano before, an ensemble today most assured, including in twentieth century and progressive repertoire. It now ranks out near front of the line among plethora of second-tier orchestras islands and continent wide.

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