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.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

BBC Proms 2010 - Proms 6 and 8. BBC SO, Jiri Belohlavek, Paul Lewis (Beethoven cycle opener). BBC Nat'l Wales, Thierry Fischer. Alexander Toradze.

Prom 6. Beethoven Piano Concerto cycle. Paul Lewis. BBC Symphony Orchestra. Jiri Belohlavek. Royal Albert Hall, London. July 21, 2010.

The BBC Proms continued festive with opener to complete Beethoven piano concerto cycle – one better in having Paul Lewis as soloist. Two of the concerti comprised this series opener - the First and the Fourth. As Lewis explains, the First is obviously the more outward looking of these two, the Fourth the more inward, but enough to trade off between them as opportunity for Lewis to work in much subtlety, if not quite to fully academically achieved level of his mentor, Alfred Brendel - with that from Brendel sometimes some spontaneity abandoned.

The prom opened with Egmont Overture, some luftpausen - lyrical receding from which compelled some interest - toward start of it coming off indecisive. Jiri Belohlavek resorted to a little clipping to attempt firming up shape to first tutti in the Exposition - following noble arch in line for his cellos to introduce the main theme. Underlying accents with the main overriding line in tutti above got calibrated less fully than optimum. As matters wore on however, things gradually began to adopt more definitive shape with goal of achieving for the noble Egmont Overture a bright, heady conclusion.

One however had to wait past the First Concerto to find Belohlavek near his best. He had nobody better to emulate than Paul Lewis in this collaborative effort. Paul Lewis, much in alla breve manner of early Brendel, lavishly played up the brilliance of the solo writing and gregarious opera buffa element to this concerto’s outer movements. Occasion even to be outlandish, including big glissando into decisive start to the Recapitulation – as to have burst out of the shadows lurking about right before – was always right on target.

Belohlavek attempted making the BBC Symphony phrase about exactly as Paul Lewis was streaming all forth himself – albeit without their parts being functionally alike to his at all. With so much internally worked in device and rubato, the effort for orchestra to keep up with or capture much of the same became futile – glad nevertheless that soloist and maestro should indeed be very like-minded. There was much delightful here – the winsome smile with which Lewis characterized his opening solo, the on purpose garish brilliance with runs, rapid sequences and other feats of display. Belohlavek rendered phlegmatic a few introspective moments in the orchestral exposition, but Lewis searchingly, poetically the more deeply probing Development. Cadenza optimally came off with great wit, brilliance, and panache.

Bellinian line and reverie, never encumbered by any layering on - such as may have run Lewis aground on handful of movements during traversal of all the thirty-two sonatas two years back - characterized the Largo here in full. Sensuous duet with principal clarinet offered very pleasing equilibrium, tranquility, both soloists interchangeably enhancing the other's expressive efforts to the uttermost.

The rondo finale here continued the overall high spirits, with after Schnabel’s example, light, playful rushing down on bouncing accents at opening thereof, to make all jocular and light. Paul Lewis was also lightly brash, angular with middle section, retreating lines from both him and winds ideally balancing with poise much shaping they contributed here. Zip through ascending, smoothly terraced upward runs toward ending the rondo, playing off reprise of its main theme, was infectious. Lewis sang out last phrase to fine bel canto length, with only furious, rousing affirmation left to go.

Belohlavek then hit his stride with more vigorous than norm account of the Prometheus Overture, as to hint at much fire to draw up from underneath in the Fourth Concerto to follow. Belohlavek’s getting mix of both Italianate leggierezza and sturm und drang just in sync set all ablaze, as to make all galante or Biedermeier accents retreat. In doing so, he cut neither himself nor this music, its inherent charm short. All sufficed certainly well here to give the dilettantes in first audience ever for this a good jolt, Lord knows, what we always need these days, from anywhere, to do the same afresh.

The Fourth Piano Concerto turned out altogether a fine warm, glowing success. An unerring simplicity in setting all up quickly became rule of the day. The necessary poise was there for the opening unaccompanied soloist entry, without any affectation in the least. Lewis, after gently allargando inflected ritornello from Belohlavek, infused much opening elaboration with excellent singing quality to draw in full upon the roots from which this kind of writing lies - light air of fantasy infusing the arpeggios to spin off from that. While maintaining complete classical poise, Lewis expanded out for transition into the flatted mediant with open freedom, space liberally allowed for such. Lewis clearly provided this place specific shape regarding this music’s classical proportions, and at same time, indicate how they on a grand scale verge on bursting apart. He then scaled down virtuosic right-hand figuration to mid-ground behind prominent line in the woodwinds toward closing the Exposition. As though observing the solo part from alternating prism angles, Lewis ideally proportioned opposing tendencies under-girding much here.

A hushed sense of wonder, of foreboding opened the Development. Agitato ascending arpeggios Lewis played as only slightly more prominent toward crest of each sequence of these than overriding line orchestrally. After passionate spinning forth of ensuing mini-cadenza, Lewis then made retransition gleefully light into stretto to open the Recapitulation. Spinning forth of descending elaborate writing off the second theme was brilliant, but as to avoid calling attention to itself. Lewis prudently framed opening of the cadenza with its alternating octaves, and then made Lisztian fancy of what then spins off from them to gently limned reprise of the second theme. Capricious agitated writing in the right hand very proportionately contrasted with sternly enunciating first subject, with stylized quasi-operatic turbulence to follow - all as though to clear the air through spinning forth single line through level upon high to limn orchestral re-entry.

Prudently enunciated intermezzo followed, with beautifully timed, proportioned rhetoric from both Lewis and Belohlavek. What virtues had transpired thus far infused the sonata-rondo finale with airy lift and winsomeness, while still in context of music turned more inward than that for the First Concerto. Fine, excellent calibration of agitato passages in mostly the Development Lewis made open in their impulsivity, contrasting them with unaffected soaring line up high over long pedal point in the lower strings. Reprise of the main theme, especially one variant on it with light melodically broken octaves, became exceptionally playful and witty. Belohlavek contrasted hushed rustle to opening of the finale with fine heft with matters arising toward direct confrontation between soloist and orchestra. Cadenza went by forthrightly - fine virtuosic spinning off the octaves and deftly upward bouncing trills to lead into Elysian legato singing of the main theme from woodwinds in reply. Spark infusing huge secondary dominant clash helped inexorably bring all to a fine conclusion, making overall conception of the rondo complete. Among three very fine performances of the Fourth lately, the Elysian Freire/Metzmacher and more impassioned Barenboim, this one captured the Fourth with fullest sense of perspective. It all proved very satisfying – anticipating a second all Beethoven evening from Bremen-based chamber orchestra that in affecting much accomplished very little.


Prom 8. BBC National Orchestra of Wales. Thierry Fischer. Alexander Toradze. Royal Albert Hall, London. July 22, 2010.

In order to hone in better on central work on this program – Britten programmed as its direct accessory, good to start by discussing the Prokofiev First Piano Concerto placed in-between. Thierry Fischer is frequently welcome guest at the Proms for his very formally astute, rhythmically incisive, and dramatically insightful to even searing interpretations.

Alexander Toradze, who recorded all five Prokofiev concerti with Gergiev and the Mariinsky, asked rightly so for more orchestra behind what commonly is very forceful playing from him on Prokofiev. Fischer accommodated Toradze best he could, therein helping develop quite a meeting of the minds, as can be expected in imaginatively approaching Prokofiev’s music from contrasting angles. Whatever few notes were missed, a few chords stumbled over, much imagination and vitality invested here into a slightly off-center interpretation of early Prokofiev, neurotic and plentifully insightful, paid off. BBC Nat’l of Wales sounded slightly thin for the very start of this; Toradze's pro-actively helping make his playing of the often clangorous introduction integrate with the rest, from a customarily heavier approach one is accustomed to from Toradze, was most beneficial. Toradze played scherzo passages with spiky incisive wit – precariously arched negotiation made of ascending passages toward arousing much excitability.

Without being as self-conscious as Gergiev, Fischer gave this music a restive sense of nervous anxiety already near this music’s surface - to run as strong undercurrent to much at hand, in joining Toradze toward intimating what is ahead in the G Minor Concerto. Peppered by upward glissandi from Toradze, all lurking shadows for first somber intermezzo were intact. Fischer’s feel for romanticism may not be so naturally full-throated as from a Slavic podium for extended slow passage midway through; Toradze presented himself fully poised to bring it all out - with Fischer his very close ally in fully reassuring all it would. Stringent push forward into final scherzo reprise toward segue into grandiose reprise of the opening of the concerto was riveting. This Prokofiev proved informed energetic antidote to sobriety of the two works book-ending this program, major work in key semitone lower than this concerto - opening Britten in key a semitone above.

Kurt Masur’s Orch Nat’l de France Shostakovich Seventh became outstanding climax to recent Shostakovich centenary year at the Proms. Before discovering Mravinsky’s recording of the Seventh ten years ago, I hardly at all well reckoned this work's very real importance. Mravinsky gets to layers beneath others a little beyond how I had ever heard anybody do the Seventh before – really since. The not particularly Slavic Thierry Fischer gave the Seventh an unusually probing look. Such was halfway expected, but extent to which he took matters was truly outstanding. With lean textures, even slightly detached quality Fischer opts for, one had to wonder how he might fare with such epic Shostakovich. My gut had me think back to, in wake of devastating Eleventh Metzmacher did last year, to retrying an old Andre Cluytens recording of again the Eleventh, beautifully transferred (Testament) from muddy sonics before (EMI).

A drier quality of the playing, rhythmic, expressive simplicity and substantial emotional reticence Fischer and Cluytens now share, quite inimitably so. They now both have made music of something justifiably reckoned of encompassing historical relevance. When one hears ‘cosmopolitan’ referring to Shostakovich, one often first thinks Haitink or Simon Rattle, who each can rise to the occasion, less the agit-prop, shibboleth of a Rostropovich, Bernstein, or of even Toscanini – latter whose Seventh the composer despised (should Solomon Volkov be trusted).

Fischer began the symphony in somewhat ironic style – majestic start to ‘calm before storm’ episode – in giving it a regimented feel and even lightly interjected brash lift to succeeding line – that all with crisp gesture and much insinuation underneath fully started getting various points across. Fischer traced lines through contrasting orchestral voices with acute sensitivity – with much ominous hint of what is to come infusing so very much, as in almost comparably individual way to Ancerl or Mravinsky on disc. Richly voiced interaction between winds and lower strings well anticipated the gently limned second theme plus much else.

With Fischer, one had not the voice of the people so to speak, but that of the individual, that of a small voice through it all - without cheapening anything, humanizing Shostakovich in the process. Uneasy peace prevailed well until the ‘war march’ with out of all development of lyrical and melodic strands also would come on another level the darkest and most sinister motifs to emerge here as well. As has been said before, it is two sides of one coin that get depicted here. The Seventh is not quite two types of music that all as though through happenstance got stitched together to make some program out of it; it certainly was not here.

After benighted good cheer from piccolo and tense, thinly played high cadence by Lesley Hatfield, ensued the non-Development ‘war march.’ Fischer was unabashed in giving first full brass variation of it good swagger, and at what uncertain goal he hears everything here - with it no longer specifically the Wehrmacht any rationalization. Shostakovich, in writing the march, more likely had much noise, celebratory balloons surrounding Stalin’s five year plans in mind - source for the march being both German and Russian (including motif from Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk). A certain cool, glibly detached steady push forward on Fischer’s part here accurately depicting such behemoth - suggested mechanization, bureaucratization of society, of all human impulses thereby - moved forward to crush all. Without inculcating any untoward accelerando, Fischer had all inexorably strut forward through passing terror to very impassioned grief, especially in trumpets and high strings. Following somber long bassoon solo was most eloquent - amidst much sullen, numbed, shocked grief; it was starting with the loud opening of the Recapitulation at which Fischer logically found the heart of this sprawling movement. Expected reprise of opening material followed - with mildly less thrust, thus plentiful space for single pitch warnings in lower horns over low tremolo in timpani to sustain full sense of foreboding to its conclusion.

Fischer wisely chose to take the scherzo moderately swift - it too easily achieved some bonhomie, bourgeoisie sentiment in keeping with this music’s supposedly populist appeal otherwise. Even in single line in the violins approaching pizzicato reprise of the opening to segue in the middle section Fischer found element of harmonic impetus behind it, not just that of the Scherzo, but of continuing train of thought throughout the entire symphony. Fischer made for middle section insistent rocking motion forward with shrilly played piccolo clarinet high above agitated and very stark. He gave middle section of the Adagio - with its close-interval trumpets over driving percussion – similarly vigorous, virile stringency, despondency. The shudder, choked back tears associated with flutter tonguing in the flutes toward end of the Scherzo was subdued, as instead to sparsely depict numbed frozen expression of grief. If less moving than example set before, there was still the somber, distraught bass clarinet to eloquently fill all out.

Fischer’s keeping line very well sustained through the Adagio - with stark, Stravinskian austerity with which he infused its opening heavily doubled chorale for winds - was most convincing. He settled for gentle lift to accompany long spun, developed several pitch falling figure Tchaikovsky Third String Quartet quotation. Cellos provided Tchaikovsky quote second theme fine tonal warmth to fill out what first flute stand had rhapsodized five minutes earlier. At moderately slow pace, this Adagio coming in close to nineteen minutes, Fischer let nothing meander off for anything merely incidental or to risk untoward over-emphasis. Better the simplicity this music conveys so well on its own. If not quite Shostakovich’s most inspired Adagio, it still has plenty to say, doing so most freely with much prudence regarding its construction - as encountered here.

The finale rustled with lightly setting off, urgently insistent press forward through the ‘battle music’, but toward no clear goal of victory in sight. Rapid swirling about, approaching fugato, turned furious – albeit wisely at level of controlled inexorably organic press forward. Fischer made very underlined and insistent his transition into the preponderant Moderato epilogue to both the finale and entire symphony – as for it to carry very significant weight as to counteract what false has often been construed of this finale. Fischer was so very specific, purposeful with it all to even have set in relief measure or two of caccia style triplets in the horns to catch all off guard. All remained lean, very tense through the end, as opposed to all loud and chutzpah, with fortissimo trumpets hanging on to dragging, but firm dotted rhythms on pitches of E and D-sharp to refer back to, crying out over all the rest, Fischer’s very dogged start to the Moderato. At pacing of the finale a little quicker than usual with pounding timpani to drive everything home at the end, all became much enhanced here, never short-changed.

Here was then indeed a resolution on purpose insufficient at resolving earlier accumulated tensions, thus as close to definitive an account of the finale I have yet heard. Fischer honed such with an ear for relationships at semitone, whole tone, tritone between harmonies - also as spun out in (quasi-) a cappella lyrical passages. As again voice here for the small voice or simple individual to carry weight, through such very thorough preparation Fischer provided here, there is unsuspected by dull-witted coterie of apparatchiks an ever strong element of formalism – more probing at it than possible earlier with the more popular Fifth.

For greater eloquence, Fischer might invite some of his principals to sing out their lines a little more fully. Ancerl’s opening out of space for fierce high trill in flutes above much racket had more fire (with such ample space Ancerl provides). than from tighter embouchures at work here. Such quip here is churlish, in context of everything here – a real ferreting out of all text that lies beneath other text; look of exhaustion, including very minor incidence off final chord, was fully earned. All most necessary to communicate here remained steadfast, paramount.

The program though opened with the Sinfonia da Requiem by Benjamin Britten. Thierry Fischer refused to comfortably settle with standard idiom for conducting Britten's music – complacent level at which can make Sinfonia da Requiem sound utterly formulaic – as happens so often. The fleshing out of the internal harmonic structure of the music and motion carrying through it, whether fast or slow, was highly compelling here, and impetus for Fischer to take slightly more extreme than the norm in what tempos he chose. Nothing stood out as being particularly at either extreme. It was most of all Fischer's tenacity to maintain his tempos in interest of a rock steady pulsation to persist through the outer slow movements. Such simply provided bedrock, against which all voicing, even open singing of the lines throughout spoke with febrile line to the uttermost - for what novel writing lies beneath and within to also fully register.

Jaunty ease with ‘Dies Irae’ death-dance of sorts got traded in for something more incisive, telling as such. Breaking apart of much activity at the end sounded as though having organically processed out of abundantly clear tendencies to all have emerged right before. Precision of ensemble, with everything very doggedly worked out, was indeed remarkable at the fast clip Fischer took, all for most musical of purposes. Especially in the Requiem movement, noting subtle dark coloring with which the winds underpinned ascending strings, things hinted at very similar harmonic relationships spelled out and developed in the Shostakovich to come. Such a purpose driven, historical and time relevant account of this piece - as to have fit entirely well the expressive to symbolic purpose of programming arranged here – seems rare indeed.

Such fragile impression of life communicated in febrile limning of very steadily paced chorale by which Fischer led the slow finale, highly affecting this way – several remaining voices at the end distinctive while fading away as well. Played with such conviction, all sense of foreboding emerged complete.

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Monday, July 26, 2010

BBC Proms 2010. Proms 4 and 5. Royal Liverpool PO, Vassily Petrenko. WDR Koln, Semyon Bychkov.

Prom 4. Royal Liverpool Philharmonic. Vassily Petrenko. Simon Trpceski. Royal Albert Hall. July 19, 2010.

What would normally expect to be a more brooding cast over such a Byronic inspired program as this, hardly ever came close to overstating such here. Two familiar settings of the narrative poem Manfred sandwiched the Rachmaninoff C Minor Piano Concerto.

Gustav Mahler’s orchestration of the Schumann Manfred Overture opened, with novelty of hearing this orchestration at its Proms debut refreshing. Several doubts linger on, however, after having heard this for the first time. First there is the cymbal crash Mahler adds at its outset - that especially given 'period', the take-over of such and tendencies to follow - what else can happen. Still, some doubt can linger even in context of a full-fledged Romantic interpretation of this as to whether or not such embellishment fits well the rest. Vassily Petrenko made the overture’s opening chords too brusque for its opening to be effective. Very stark - not provided sufficient relief by these chords - was as written in violins the introductory augmenting of upcoming Allegro's main theme - stripped other than for flutes of most woodwind doubling underneath. Petrenko then fortunately made seem organically generated transition into the Allegro – with airy lift provided its lyrical second subject. Inner driven agitation then vigorously informed the following sequencing of arpeggios.

Elongation of upbeats into descending inversion of the main theme was most expressive, but incited clipping of the arpeggios themselves, making Mahler's open re-scoring of the Schumann verge on sounding too extreme. Lift for continuing building agitation within came loose from pulsation underneath, making transition into what followed clumsy. Making Mahler's rescoring Schumann sound so misguided was Petrenko's cutting out of sufficient weight underneath the tremolo driven main theme, by being so strict to tempo and hard-driven - abetting wrongly Mahler’s having left violin section lines so exposed. Downright crude earlier was clipping of forceful brass for segue into subsidiary idea or thus broken consequent in the first theme group. In the end, good repose and noble poise informed closing measures. This interpretation of Manfred provided modern ears some rescue of Schumann from overused luftpausen, cliche from the past. Motivated fiery response especially from the Royal Liverpool strings, as expected of good risk-taking; all resulted however in almost making something two-dimensional of Mahler's fine re-orchestration.

Simon Trpceski poetically weighted, voiced opening chords of the Rachmaninoff with Petrenko scaling first theme with brooding line, albeit streamlined for it. All made curiously cautious, back-phrased the quickly following scherzo-like episode and then curiously punched, detached the strong cadence ending it. Elaborate reprise of the second theme Trpceski shaped so well also sounded detached from the rest. Suavely insinuated in by oboe, easy transition to a glibly handled, executed Development then transpired. Rhythmic firmness, spring to mercurial piano obbligato to Piu vivo episode making way into stormy re-transition went missing. Petrenko then made yelling contest between orchestral sections amongst themselves and piano obbligato of the retransition - crude march step then strutting forth the Recapitulation. So much impulsivity in a way was compelling, but with little in way of finesse to make any of it count. With minimal framing, RLPO principal horn poetically dignified reprise of the second theme; Trpceski was provided – framed by languorous cellos - space for well limned good pacing of growing agitation to follow - albeit for how Petrenko walloped the final cadence.

Fine calm, nocturnal sense pervaded opening to the Adagio, with winds and Trpceski sensitively marking harmonic changes within finely spun and undulated cantilena to extend out its first theme. Development opened with fine introspection and reserve – toward prudent, gradual building up of vernal like agitation to eventually all spill over; Petrenko then methodically began to push a little harder than he should, thus Trpceski's cadenza sounded more like note-reading than normally the case. Tripceski then recovered fine arch, poise to moderately climactic sweeping line, making beautifully poised conclusion of what remained.

Marked clipping of marcia start to the finale sounded as though trying to prove something; Trpceski then insipidly over-worked the opening theme - with technique to burn to be able to do it. Fine sway of what spun out thereof preceded embarrassingly randy brass to mark stretto finish to opening section. Trpceski gave the celebrated second theme more shape, profile than norm here thus far. Much of the Development, absent of building anything from within, went by stiffly accented, vulgar, especially from brass, but to some extent from everybody. Trpceski in grandiosely recapitulating the second theme even opted momentarily for top-heavy, brittle marcato - to almost be mistaken for Alexis Weissenberg. Trpceski, welcome at it, rushed Royal Liverpool brass – Berlin Philharmonic they are not - off vulgarly making one transition during the coda; approximation of shotgun blast opened final big final reprise – with then truffle-hunt city for rush up to very end of what proved only a partially fulfilling account of the concerto.

'Manfred' by Tchaikovsky also fell short of being entirely convincing. Opening trudge of en masse descending lower strings Petrenko made gruff to extent that emphasis shifted from where expected to the effort orchestral players were putting forth to dig in. Purpose of the writing is to give sense of weary halt of lament in lower winds right overhead. All distinctive shape, meaning to overall line became nearly indiscernible through slowly rocking undulating triplets from lower strings. The reprise (Andante duolo) of then fully formed first theme toward end of the first movement, evinced similar vanity. Deliberate grind on internally agitated lower brass became intent on projecting something in its own right, thus undercutting profile to, brooding character of the main subject here.

The infectious enthusiasm evident in the playing of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic under its new conductor, Vassily Petrenko makes it still appear he could be destined to accomplish much. Pacing and formal sense on the large scale were quite acceptable here, but the only passages in the first movement that convinced of more important considerations than that were those of the lyrical second subject, pointing to Astarte. The RLPO may still be capable of achieving results of some poise - that overlooked with Petrenko failing to think better of the idea of starting more forceful stringendo or pushing ahead early. Ragged playing in making a couple of notably tricky transitions between episodes also undercut the frame of this majestically tempestuous opening to 'Manfred.' Speed-up as segue into one of these moments - all shifting up and down triplets going flat-line thus far – would require some oomph. With impetus thrown off just enough as happened here, the first movement ended loudly, but hollow.

Petrenko made opening light accents of the Alpine fairy intermezzo sufficiently piquant, apart from rendering some arpeggio working out in the strings a bit stiffly, dryly and not avoiding putting a little bump into achieving loud conclusion near end of the main section. With what clipping got encountered earlier, here as well, the rhetorical lingering over a long extended F-sharp in the violas sounded misplaced; the middle section started at least momentarily with fine allure, pardoning some coy pointing of it by flute principal over dry, tense strings. Violins beginning to shout descant over only mezzo-forte reprise of main idea to the Trio in brass set aside most allure with which Petrenko had begun the section. Awkward negotiation of transitions continued throughout reprise of the main section, but with Petrenko being able to succeed at all effort to keep the coda airy and very light.

Violins of the RLPO then made sumptuous refrain to sagging oboe line to open following intermezzo. After some indistinct negotiation of rapid writing in triplets for strings underneath the flutes taking up the first idea, Petrenko clipped yodeling clarinets, denying them full sense of pastoral repose, contentment all about. Petrenko, youthfully impetuous, continued to mistake loud for impassioned for arched (more gently) sweeping refrain that then segued over to very loud, forced, thus insufficiently climactic interrupting crunch of first movement cadence to all apparent peace about - leaving light winds groping for their intonation, once all had retreated.

Much vigor, heft went into opening the finale - after sufficiently relaxed, atmospheric close to preceding pastorale. Even with what stirred up demonic accents build through the wild dance that takes off here, attention got distracted by fractious playing thereof in attempting to drive the point forward too hard - to point of shrieking from RLPO flutes, thumping accents in lower strings and 1812 Overture style brass fusillade - again, to be so emphatic, out of focus with picture being painted here. Even through dug in fugato to follow, on the surface or on the gut level, there was some real Slavic wildness, excitement here - but as nothing to last in real or imaginative way with the listener for over twenty minutes after all might have been said and done. Andante duolo reprise from much earlier was much the same as then. Now so close to the end of all this however, we arrived here hardly cut above 'hey, boys, we got it;’ sufficiently negotiated virtuosic playing for preceding wild dance and fugato was in fact impressive. Reflective episodes were fine, with possible exception of RLPO violins playing some aching rhetoric up high - paragraph or two before reprise of the Andante duolo. Could they have been the first to discover how to go about such heavy arm bowing?

All trailed off to a fine quiet ending, but seemingly out of place, with blast from organ and brass right before toying with going over the top. Petrenko must come as some relief after the doldrums of Gerard Schwarz, but at end of the day - recalling better Verdi Requiem some months ago that surprised me from this new partnership - it is going to be the finesse or more convincing approximation thereof (when one looks only to the big guns out there to be able to achieve the real thing) that is going to make the case. No amount of publicity surrounding this new marriage - RLPO and Petrenko – will ever be capable of replacing that.


Prom 5. WDR Koln Symphony Orchestra. Semyon Bychkov. Viviane Hagner. Royal Albert Hall. July 20, 2010.

Shimmer of light pervaded warm halo sustaining line through a most eloquent reading of the Prelude to Act One of Lohengrin to set tone for what resulted in far different prom than the previous. WDR Koln strings sounded less entranced than their Royal Opera colleagues last year with what Bychkov compelled out of them, but the more natural at achieving very similar effect. Grandiose gesture with climax to seamless line through this took back seat to maintaining a hieratic solemnity, sense of awe from within.

Viviane Hagner with singing tone then made supple ballade out of the three connected movements of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, while engaging Bychkov as equal partner in the discourse – Bychkov never to encroach upon the best expressive efforts Hagner put forth – as could early mentor of his. Rubato between the two protagonists in this they both managed in a highly precise manner, but at same time as though it could have all been achieved improvisatorially. A couple of people took issue with Hagner’s playing being cold or not openly impassioned enough – not enough to project her opening appassionato to the first movement. Regardless there is the freedom a soloist has to achieve it all equally well as heard or felt from within. One could also note the lovely arch with which she gave the second theme, followed by dancing bows on triplets obbligato to closing theme – and later the ballade style rubato in approaching the widely spaced arpeggi ushering in from her cadenza the recapitulation. Her listening to all that went on orchestrally - with how Bychkov and WDR deftly, never portentously limned their part – paid off fine dividends. One might take issue with Hagner’s highest pitches sounding a bit squeezed, but growing evidence of fully achieved musicianship here more than compensated. Somewhat rare is it to hear middle part of the Andante so minutely spaced and harmonized between top line and both solo and orchestral tremoli underneath after Hagner’s reverie limned way to open this movement. Crisply pointed elfin dance was made of lively rondo, her work with Bychkov just as deft and fully collaborative as before - with fine, never prepossessing show of virtuosity in her playing.

This third time to hear Hagner proved ideal. As late added aside here, the support Chailly and the Gewandhaus gave her at her last Proms appearance for Beethoven was perhaps a bit lax in overall rhythms and profile, but paragon, Hagner included, of Olympian classical grace and serenity compared with vulgarization several nights later this year of Beethoven concerto here from Hilary Hahn and Paavo Jarvi.

Essay - recent Levine conducted Boston Symphony commission by Gunther Schuller got played next. Paired here with Strauss’s Alpine Symphony, I thought (mistake made before) I had read ‘Where the World Ends’. Here instead was statement of what music can say beyond where words cease to be able. Schuller practically could have instead called it ‘Where the Musical Phrase Ends’, of which Schuller has made varyingly aborted. Fortunately, most pretense ends there; there is still something to say here. Whereas there may not be the most compelling ideas to stitch much development thereof together, this piece carries along with it more than ample amount of craft – after chance to hear Schuller’s Violin Concerto and Seven Klee Studies.

‘Where the Word Ends’ is in four to five movements, all but opening Lento (first Adagio to which it may be an epilogue) and rapid finale forming a palindrome - scherzo and trio between first Adagio and its more elaborate reprise. Good insinuation of chorale in lower strings forms bedrock for swirling assortment of trills and ostinati in mostly high violins – as out of Bartok’s ‘night music.’ Ostinati at tritone formed against firmly held pedal point; out of this emanated sustained chorale line in the winds approximately four minutes into the first movement. Broken melodic fragments, chord progressions ricocheting off each other, practically four octaves apart, and then groping ascension for opening to achieve long legato line all recall Bartok.

Material from earlier movements overlapped into later - including pedantic repeat of four- note violin ostinato from very early on as theme to start the finale. A deeply saturated Bergian chord helped frame mere start to cantilena for principal clarinet - fitfully to carry on toward assuming better shape – all toward compellingly moving through a second hypertrophic chord - impact of latter which on purpose then must dissolve into thin air, limned by high trills. Stravinskian derived ostinato then emerged - as though to have switched ‘Spring Rounds’ into being in triple meter as repetitive tritone chord went thumping overhead So much simple repetition thereof in the Scherzo got counteracted just so far by seemingly at random interjections breaking in on it. More rapid articulation in groups of four in the finale intimated same idea as just cited here. Similar figuration in the finale fleetingly emulated Messiaen, as also did light wind concertato progressions of close together intervals during the Trio. Trio section proved a highlight – its supple enveloping by harp (only vaguely Brucknerian) of several things hallmark. Messiaen-esque strings’ swirl of arabesque played off antiphonal, bluesy muted trumpets; incidental wind concertato musette therein also proved charming as was already inherent cross-section of intimating at once both Messiaen and the blues

Semyon Bychkov eloquently made levelheaded advocate for this piece, treating this loose-limbed construction mildly ‘high serious' perhaps. It also compositionally goes on several minutes past amount of material that would normally sustain just twenty minutes. Crisper accent to highlight Americana might have assured Schuller a more distinctively individual voice, but working out of so many cross-rhythms, and filigree, its spilling over was thorough here and at supple command. Well inculcated too was fine ear for this piece’s multifaceted, contrasting dissonances and their curious, inventive resolutions. Widely hurled about chords, jagged lines - with stratifying return of Messiaen-esque chakras – brought all to a satisfying, yet enigmatically adamant close – spaciously provided rhapsodic arioso in tuba over muted bluesy writing in brass an integral contribution.

Bychkov then made introspective farewell to his position with WDR Koln with, of all things, the Strauss Alpine Symphony (2009 Proms triumph for Fabio Luisi and Dresden). Luisi had the more panoramic view, with what seemed endless resources of brilliance from Staatskapelle - not allowing display to overshadow overall design of the work or its most richly expressive, evocative qualities. Bychkov had a little less the brilliant ensemble and was more self-effacing in what turned out here a more probing, intimately philosophical gaze at the mountain. By comparison, thinking back, Luisi may now seem to have been caught up by what lavish imagery Strauss sets forth - as to lose track of narrative. Bychkov’s intense focus on narrative was both obvious and subtle. As stated already, he was not to be lured over by any big moment, however grandiose, might it obstruct too much where the narrative should lead us.

Several moments - often emerging as just so much effect - without looking back at what I wrote, still linger on in my mind. In ‘Lost in the Thickets’, indicative of Luisi were numerous brilliant orchestral effects in winds and brass – indeed still quite meaningful. Bychkov, with mordant, dour wit, made perfectly sly, Haydnesque false turns during same episode through especially interweaving woodwinds, in reply to hubris from strings and horns in expressing their being so confident of knowing well the right path. ‘Precarious Moments’ was droller still – fear of taking false step with so much light chromatic staccato triplets down, while austerely giving off sensation of being at high altitude with aimless, broken trumpet calls cutting through the thin air. Such staccato for Luisi could have just as easily, insightfully for ‘Alpine’ been music for Nurse from Frau ohne schatten – different perspective than that of Bychkov but an equally valid one.

Thin atmosphere at the Summit stood out in strong relief - before elation in achieving it, for which on ardent cantilena off crests of the line Bychkov very well observed the fliessend (flowing) marking – not to get parked anywhere. Key moment, and in which on purpose he diffused out the sonic perspective for good phrase or two was during conspicuously arched ascending line in the strings over very stern reprise of ‘Night’ in the brass at end of ‘Vision’ - precisely limned mists rising up right before. Bychkov settled for moderate current to have unobtrusively flow through the mists, occluding the sun’s rays – as to disseminate all occurring right before. Elusive mystery to envelope the glacier episode, albeit with runs on lower strings somewhat obscured, was also fine.

Bychkov risked making Storm anticlimactic - partly due to a quasi-Gallic reticence about WDR Koln, concerning particular tone quality they most naturally project – with Bychkov intent on seldom forcing anything. With Bychkov conducting – no major quip here – especially in taking on Alpine, a subtle hooded quality or inculcated Slavic tinta lent impression acoustically of imaginary cowl hovering over the sound-stage. The Storm in fact starts descent down the mountain – with eventually confidently heroic reprise of ‘Ascent’ music mixed in. Bychkov - affecting a struggle for big arching motif of this to cut through all else - played on listeners’ fears of the climbers at best barely being able to make it. He then made stark outline, suffused with only just enough light to frame line with natural sense of atmosphere - for extended cantilena from WDR Koln strings through Sunset.

As anticipated by the Mozartean velvet, grace with which Bychkov approached Flowery Meadows and rhapsodizing during On the Summit, plus deep musing with which Elegy got infused moments before the Storm, his strings passionately sang the Epilogue over warm French horn obbligato, as to point toward or beyond last glimmer of horizon before all remaining light would fade. As an aside, Bychkov backed off from gilding the waterfalls, then making something bejeweled of Apparition to oxymoronically remind one of the Empress’s music, spirit world from Frau. Through organ and lower brass sonorities, Night subtly but assuredly, eventually stole in toward enveloping all else. Key to this interpretation of Alpine, one less notable for the large profile or spectacular effect, was seamless line with which Bychkov started moderately paced descending lower woodwind lines right at the very beginning. This was not the glib, halfway colorless Alpine of a Jansons or Hans Graf, but one reflective most of all, as though to vicariously, reminiscently enjoy again a great journey.

A mature view of Strauss then, as also possible with Wagner; those out to seek the most spectacular effect with Alpine had to have reckoned need for somebody other than Bychkov. He spoke well in interview of striving over much time, through numerous performances to find the pacing of so much of Alpine (for it to breathe) just right – just as we all must with life toward end we eventually meet. It succeeded very well here.

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Thursday, July 22, 2010

BBC Proms 2010: Proms 1 and 3. BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. Jiri Belohlavek. Prom 3: Royal Opera. Antonio Pappano.

Prom 3. Verdi: Simon Boccanegra (semi-staged from Moshinsky production). Royal Opera House Orchestra and Chorus. Antonio Pappano. Marina Poplavskaya, Placido Domingo, Josef Calleja, Ferruccio Furlanetto, Jonathan Summers, Lukas Jakobski. Royal Albert Hall.
July 18, 2010.


It has become a given that, even a year ahead of time, Placido Domingo’s taking on the part of Simon Boccanegra is a major accomplishment, wherever it may occur. So far, that has meant New York, Berlin, Milan, and now London. All Domingo should have to do is for him to affix himself to a pose for the cameras of tragic poise or grandeur, to circulate hither and yond, and then automatically, we have a great interpretation of the Doge. Unfortunately, most of the interpretation of the Doge happens vocally, not so much otherwise. Here, at the Royal Albert Hall, the right voice for the Doge just simply was not there. In fact, the closest from this cast to having it was the Paolo Albiani, at age 61, of Jonathan Summers.

Domingo felt impetus slightly less here than at the Met five months previous to draw as vigorously upon what lingering resources of darker tone he may possess; even so, we are still hearing much more a low tenor instead of baritone. Most deferential on the podium of anybody, Antonio Pappano was a close ally of Domingo in even misguidedly playing best advocate possible for Domingo – for Domingo being able to hold out vocally to the end. Unfortunately, he helped make himself weak advocate for both the part and entire work at hand. This being middle period to i.e. with the Council Chamber Scene, fully mature Verdi, it is Pappano’s business with a score like this, to lead. In nowhere close to consistent fashion did he but very seldom do so.

Attractive among this cast were Josef Calleja (Gabriele Adorno) and Marina Poplavskaya (Amelia). Calleja sounded immediately the ardent Romantic hero, with clarion passion he gave his first off-stage lines – albeit with swallowed phrase endings, something he ceased allowing once on stage with Poplavskaya. Crest of his lines in his duet with Fiesco came across effortful, but he sustained legato well and also sounded sufficiently stern for sense of something ominous afoot. He also affected good stance of heroism for standing up to Doge in the council chamber – amidst confusing scenario to have developed there. Opening agitated lines for Gabriele in Act Two put Calleja under some strain again, but he then achieved finely sculpted line with attractive tone, plentiful musical sensitivity for the longer, more florid, quasi-Schubertian ‘Cielo, pietoso’ portion of ‘Sento, avvampar.’

Following indefinitely shaped, phlegmatic introduction to Act One, Poplavskaya sang ‘Come, quest’ora’ with dark, but warm mezzo-ish color, voice placed back. Her top though was freely achieved; she joined Calleja in presenting very convincingly two young people in love, and as Amelia individually presented a character to have been quite a variety of hardship and travail. Once Domingo was out on stage for recognition scene to get underway, some of Poplavskaya’s best efforts here got undercut by flaccid, retiring command from the pit. Bumped up pace for loud orchestral cadence to Amelia’s revulsion at the Doge’s mention of Paolo undercut the firm attack Poplavskaya gave Amelia’s strong exclamation right before. Oboe line to begin Amelia’s private narration to the Doge – ‘Orfanella il tetto umile’ – was too retiring by half; it took Poplavskaya’s all to give it any real shape at all. Accenting beneath never overcame being flaccid; her passionately conceived ‘Mi bacio’ refrain found her having to watch Pappano instead of vice versa – unbecoming irony that it was.

The transition to gentle, but robust cabaletta of the great duet - Domingo choppily reading off notes and text right before - got flaccidly, carefully paced - with silly forceful push forward where Verdi has marked gradual stringendo. Pappano made it sound instead like postlude or refrain to Italian popular song. Poplavskaya continued having to watch both Pappano and Domingo carefully through the great cabaletta, ‘Figlia la tal nome’, all taken breezy – not for so fast a tempo per se, as being taken so weightlessly. It sounded more redolent of what got composed in Act One of Verdi’s Luisa Miller instead of in its Third Act for Luisa and her father.

Except for excessive verismo pointing of Amelia’s narrative in the Council Chamber Scene – practically by end to makie Sprechstimme out of it – and a few moments of cloudy intonation, Poplavskaya achieved strongly even line between smoky colored midrange and low notes and easily produced top the rest of the way. Her Elisabetta at Royal Opera Don Carlo earlier this season hardly prepared one for how well she succeeded here.

Baritones in singing the opening Prologue for part of Simon, affect being the high baritone, even in head voice quasi-tenorial in some of their nuance, placement, etc. They are obviously still baritones. Domingo especially affected the same thing at the Met this past spring, but from perspective of still being a tenor, a low one now, sounded more tentative at it. Chilean tenor Ramon Vinay, whose timbre was somewhat baritonal from the get-go, still darker later – had voice to halfway successfully make something of Iago and Telramund – but a different voice than Domingo has ever possessed.

Sustained notes for Boccanegra took on here feeling of insecurity to mild tremolo. More remarkable here was the utter lack of contrast between widely varied levels of communication that Verdi and Boito have crafted so brilliantly into the part. Lines such as ‘Ecco i plebi’ and Fratricidi’ during the Council Chamber scene sounded preoccupato (worried) and tired, respectively, where there is forceful irony, sense of outrage called for. Instead of having chill run down one’s spine at ‘Paolo!’– coming after vaguely negotiated ‘Plebi! Patrizii! Popolo!’ - Domingo precariously reached from below for baritonal top C and down on a C one octave below. It was so curious that at end of Act One, with so little Domingo had left to do that Pappano had to mercilessly clip so much of a then waltzy ‘Tu al cospetto’ through ‘Sii maledetto’ – thoroughly making trivial final choral outcry in reaction to the curse. What, after all, was sacred here - Placido Domingo, his legacy, or Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra? Martin Bernheimer said of Domingo last spring in (British) Opera (April) that his sound remains stubbornly tenorial, inappropriately slender – Domingo courting tedium to continue coursomg his way through this The supposedly always evergreen Placido Domingo, now taking on Rigoletto, sounded even more slender here.

Domingo affected well his entrance lines for the Doge in the final two scenes of this with fine sense of gravitas; what he provided was not quite completely void of insight. Lines of conversation between Doge and Gabriele however had one easily confuse one for the other, to practically be embarrassing. At the Met, one had in later scenes Marcello Giordani with more squeal than squillo as Gabriele and Domingo in better voice.

Ferruccio Furlanetto started of colloquy with the sinister and vocally ample Paolo of Jonathan Summers well, then some semblance of legato for refrain to ‘Il lacerate spirito.’, but little else as Fiesco. Never have I before heard duet for tenor and bass-baritone in the final scene of this opera; more noticeable than in the Prologue, that is what occurred here. Furlanetto’s voice, pressed by engagement in so much pouting, contrived histrionics, was all patchwork for this assignment. What nobility, mystery Fiesco should convey got completely lost, and even Sprechstimme became so extensive in Act Three – before six minutes prior to opera ending, it made me think on behalf of the unsuspecting it might seem that Verdi had written Fiesco a mad scene. For someone who remembers seeing Cesare Siepi, rock-solid at sixty-one - with sense of gravitas extending out miles behind the Jones Hall stage, sing Fiesco here – opposite an inexperienced and unsteady Leo Nucci as the Doge – it is to deny any such memory of being relevant at all to have taken Furlanetto seriously at this.

The pouting I surmise Furlanetto has learned from the Hytner co-interpretation that Furlanetto next foists upon us at the Met. It must go, as what use it slightly may have been for him before is completely gone now. ‘No! la figlia del Grimaldi’ got emitted all choppy, without meaningful semblance of legato or weight, not to even try reckoning what appropriate weight for it might be like. This is the weakest Furlanetto has sounded yet – fine artist he has been before for Muti, Levine, and Barenboim, numerous others. Lukas Jakobski, the Pietro, had as much voice for Pietro as either Furlanetto or Domingo on their parts, and probably more, as did Jonathan Summers as Paolo, Act Two opening scene for which Pappano at last found some meaningful shape to anything he could sustain for more than a few measures. Several exclamations from Summers were so forceful, one wondered how Paolo got passed up as candidate for Doge. It took no hectoring or grand-standing for Summers to accomplish it. Nobody in either the Met cast or this one was more in character than him. One regretted hearing, seeing him taken away at the start of Act Three.

Antonio Pappano numerous times has proven himself adept at Verdi; while in hyper-obsequious mode, there hardly could be anyone worse at it. With all focus out of whack compared with where it should be, Royal Opera orchestral forces, with most of all the strings often sounding thin and ragged, also sounded out of focus. The light bump and grind Pappano gave some of the agitato for chorus during the Council Chamber scene was totally mal-apropos. There was constantly the faux-sensitive consideration, caution out of supposed deference to his singers that denied them so frequently any means of real support. Brief orchestral interludes, exclamations in which he decided to infuse some life ran risk of sounding off-kilter and often did.

Even the brief exchange involving Paolo right before the Council Chamber scene, lasting barely a minute, took on a weight, practically a preponderance in comparison with what came before and after, by just conducting it straightforwardly. All shape, overall perspective to make reach through much of the entirety of Verdi’s score to give it the nobility, variety of even often somber color got blended, eviscerated away to making much of its entirety register as tepid, shallow instead of how it should be.

For managing optimum effect of getting placement, phrasing, overall vocal production right, the other singers in the cast need what solidity, weight the Doge and Fiesco (Furlanetto lacking it even in the Council Chamber scene) and orchestral parts provide. It clearly, for those several who did get things mostly right, was often go-it-alone here. As for the majesty, somber weight, variety of tinta in regards to atmosphere of the sea constantly on the horizon, Prommers attending this also got left mostly high and dry as well. The overall blandness, lifelessness of the Moshinsky production could not have alone done so much damage. This, apart from several fine solo contributions, proved an evening at the Proms and for reputation of the Royal Opera, notably sub-par.


Prom 1. BBC Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. Jiri Belohlavek. Madi Byers, Twyla Robinson, Malin Christensson, Stephanie Blythe, Kelly O’Connor, Stefan Vinke, Hanno Muller-Brachmann, Tomasz Koleczny. St. Paul’s, Westminster, Crouch End and Sydney Choristers. Royal Albert Hall. July 16, 2010.

In context of this Boccanegra, any calling on Jiri Belohlavek for lack of heft in approaching the Mahler Eighth Symphony two nights before was mere whining.
This is the most impossible Mahler symphony, upon performance of which to write in authoritatively. There are many places where voices, things get covered up, that to insist upon such heft - for which Mahler writes in indeed some (for today’s standards of vocalism) awkward doubling of solo voices, is to lose so much in return. From Belohlavek, compared to, most sophisticated at it, a Gielen or Boulez, there was here some loss of resonance to some of the subtle shifting harmonic changes through the inner voices, while taking such a lean approach. At such a place as the hushed choral entry of ‘Infirma nostri corporis,’ Belohlavek sensitively provided mystery to infuse its sepulchrally compelled harmonies. Beyond that, it is probably whenever I have run across it, one of the most listenable recordings of the piece (as Mahler 8 does not really ever fit well a recording, but only good concert, acoustical space instead) being Kubelik, who in part, tradition from which he came could have set example for what here opened the 2010 Proms.

The muscular, lean, rhythmically forthright opening to ‘Veni, Creator Spiritus’ set the tone right for what was indeed here a very festive occasion, with 630 musicians on the Royal Albert Hall stage. Belohlavek wisely avoided making bathos out of ‘Imple superna gratia’, with its turn of phrase to ideally remind one of pop song derivations of Chopin’s Fantasie Impomptu so many times. How many times have I heard ‘I am always chasing rainbows’ at this spot – i.e. how much I often dread anticipating arrival of this passage . However, a lingering manner over more lyrical, slower pages of especially Part One here threatened to make several sections of Part One appear too episodic. The big ‘Accende, accende’ segue to double fugue entered strongly, abruptly, but also with compelling urge to drive it forward through lean, moderately swift march with ‘Hostem, repellas longuis’ - moment and perhaps similar as to how it got played here, is said to have impressed Stravinsky very much. One could though still feel here a little want or lack of vehemence underneath through this and imminent double fugue as well.

The highly animated, even also physical impact of hearing this music made one forget or put aside any feeling that Belohlavek’s tempo relationships may have felt episodic; effect of such complacency this way did eventually make itself felt during the recapitulation (the opening to which needed more support from underneath) and coda to the first part here, yet little to dampen spirits of what made quite a start to performing the Eighth complete. There was also just some accelerando toward the end in approaching final affirmation at the end, that in not sounding like having arisen organically from preceding material, sounded slightly on verge of not so much hysteria as of just having come somewhat loose from the rest.

The pointillism with which Belohlavek infused the craggy edges of extended introduction to Part 2 was such toward helping mark well depths to be plumbed below – and fine principal oboe to help connect febrile line through it - with of course a gradually ascending sense to all that would follow it. With fine stress he supported well his first two soloists, giving voice to contrasting ecstatic ardor and emotional asceticism here. Much Wunderhorn frolic caroled through scherzo to follow thereafter, with most if not quite all sense of pervasive gloom having lifted by this point – and without turning it insipid (such as threatens to happen with Abbado on his live recording several times). Pointing of lines in high winds and small contingent of strings, percussion – and with ‘Von der Jugend’ turn in phrase apparent - was all airy and piquant here – and in color as informed by all that has preceded such in this long movement. The Jeden Rosen’ chorus in women and children had good freshness to it – momentary ensemble lapse during which was fully compensated by supple and very well voiced engagement of deep color in making the harmonic changes that occur here. All wafted with fine calibrated ease through transition into long slower final portion of Part 2 through majestic reckoning of the Chorus Mysticus altogether to its climactic conclusion – sufficient weight provided all underneath.

Most noteworthy among soloists here were Stephanie Blythe and relatively new tenor Stefan Vinke – already seen at some houses in Germany to critical acclaim as Lohengrin and Siegmund – and here replacing Nikolas Schukoff on short notice. Blythe contrasted, with fine cavernous sonority at her disposal, sang with consoling even line and simple tonal warmth her ‘firmans virtute’ and lumens accende’ off more stern accents to help sustain line very well through one or two lingering tempos Belohlavek provided She made something morally repudiating (or in Sarah Palin lingo, refudiating) sounding of the Muler Samaritana, verging on making shrewish nun out of the part, but altogether with compelling authority. Blythe, most of anybody, provided firmly solid bedrock to solo trio, quartet, and full ensemble passages throughout. Stefan Vinke, though starting tense during Part 2 as Doctor Marianus, sang all his exposed writing in Part One with most lyrical ease and melos, and then as Marianus quickly got all placed right to get off a few heroic, ringing high notes and fully informed passionate ardor for calls of ‘Jungfrau.’ Whenever Belohlavek might let pace relax too much, especially during Part One, Vinke, like Blythe, was someone to whom one’s ear would forthwith feel compelled.

Hanno Muller-Brachmann in fine voice fervently pointed his text as the Pater Ecsaticus, but without such exaggeration of doing so to put personal stamp on his two minutes in the limelight, as Fischer-Dieskau did for Kubelik on disc, example after which many baritones partly take in singing this. Less compelling was Tomasz Koneczny, musicality of this young bass-baritone not in question, but lean sonority not quite entirely right for his solo of ‘Infirma, nostril corporis’ or for the Pater Profondis during Part 2. Among the women, Madi Byers had the brighter, more penetrating top than Twyla Robinson, with reach-from-behind approach to phrasing from the latter. Even with weight Byers (appearing on the Royal Albert stage as case of the frizzies) provided midrange and below, she had her own support issues, as did Robinson. More lyric mezzo Kelly O’Connor made some stretch of engaging register shifts with as Muler Aegyptica. It was easy for all three voices to get covered up by so much else going on – except for when Byers put forth brightly above staff or accompaniment remained light.

Belohlavek, with fine calibration of all his forces through very much of this Mahler Eighth brought clear, focused sense of being, just like Mahler, a man of the theater to this engagement. Such clearly carried the day with very well prepared choral forces and fine orchestral contribution to make this Mahler Eighth, if not a profoundly achieved opener certainly a very brightly limned, festive one - excellent sense of occasion pervasive all about.

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Sunday, July 18, 2010

DR Kultur: Barenboim offers provocatively dialectics inspired view of Bruckner Eighth. Beethoven/Bruckner zyklus - Staatskapelle Berlin. 26.07.10.

Pairing earliest written concerto of Beethoven with the Bruckner Eighth Symphony, Daniel Barenboim made relatively modest proportions of it. A good share if not quite all the characteristic wit and vigor of the young Beethoven came through. Barenboim contrasted making spaciously firm character of opening to the orchestral exposition and then after a couple of expected brooding turns to minor mode, light Haydnesque or Italianate staccato pointing of same opening theme, giving glimpse ahead of the dialectics between Classical and Romantic tendencies from even early Beethoven to eventually something far more advanced.

Barenboim’s playing through solo exposition was fluent, well animated. His handling of half-cadence into second theme had light clarion ring, then finding introspection for turn to both flatted submediant and minor mode during transition from elegantly turned second theme to catching the impetuosity of closing material, in sequence of scales - pointed octaves above to hold all in check. Brief exploits into fantasy during superficially the simpler Development got delineated, anticipating marching light stretto of staccato chords between wind concertato and soloist broken by skipping triplets for the latter. In practically Beethoven’s parody of sounding academic, Barenboim pointed out in the cadenza the building contrast for antecedents, consequents between right and left hand, to lightly all go storming forth toward ultimately gentle, brief cadential reply from Staatskapelle at the end, eschewing coy treatment for any of this.

Nobility for slow movement got supplied in full measure. Expansion of line through second theme, even through much light filigree became spacious, with good pointing of winds and soloist on alternating half-phrases throughout. Within context of such eloquent rhetoric, hushed close to ending lines was moving, with Barenboim making light pause for final trill and brief line trailing off all speak - framed by luminous close in Staatskapelle winds, buttressed earlier by weight from the strings.

Given Barenboim’s unqualified success with rondos to both Third and Fourth concerti, his restraint toward giving Haydn-esque offbeat accenting the oomph it needs to make Beethoven out of this rondo was curious. Apart from that, his fetching quality to rapid runs, tripping staccato with off-beat grace notes made practically complete character of the rest. Gently playful was his take on more agitated middle section; Barenboim also understated firmness in making transition back to reprise of rondo theme, to preserve requisite lightness for it. Pause for turn to G Major fully infused it for ironic ‘upon second thought’ air to it. Barenboim then made fine flourish of all that remained – half-unwitting misplacement of several accents aside.


Gauntlet ahead, for all involved, was the Bruckner Symphony No. 8 in C Minor, following triumph enjoyed evening before with the Seventh. Here good results were more qualified. This was an Eighth that the further one made one’s way into it became more involving. Including on ‘live’ Teldec recording of the Eighth with the Berlin Philharmonic, Barenboim has attempted making something very fluid out of phrasing the work’s broad, arching lines, to provide argument overall fine sense of liberation from the constricting influence of bar lines and downbeats on melodic, harmonic progress through its long paragraphs. It is such that he among many identify with the legacy of Furtwangler – frequently considered definitive for Bruckner.

Barenboim also attempted then with the Philharmonic to make entirely fluid its narrative, - and as aside, make it further clear that result sought was not what sheen, great luminosity he could pull out of the Philharmonic – such as we associate with late-career Karajan - last several times he recorded the Eighth – or with ‘The 101 Strings.’ Claudio Abbado had already spent nearly five seasons in Berlin when the sloppily edited Teldec Eighth got released, with sound engineers having stopped short of fully negotiating the difficult acoustic of the Philharmonie. The change to the Philharmonic is clearly felt, even from time - close to when Abbado took the helm - that Barenboim started recording his then still new Bruckner cycle. The feel Barenboim had for the Eighth then was too confident, even almost improvisatory, making it more of a curiosity than what one can reckon one of Barenboim’s more successful Bruckner recordings.

First movement here raised similar doubts, with hint of brass turning fractious toward Exposition final cadence. Pace was just slightly less breezy for this movement, than it had been on disc. Dotted rhythms were intermittently still loose, particularly with opening theme of the movement, upbeat to the same. Doleful tuba on yet again the same theme got Development section underway with fully characterized, incisive winds replying with its inversion. Slightly contrary to what is marked Barenboim made somewhat risky footing of inverted Theme 2 sequencing into broad arch - streamlined in feel - with first theme derived upbeats deep - slightly loose from their hinges. Without clipping that marred previous Philharmonic effort, majestic climax got achieved well. Violins on inverted second theme figure in half notes elastically maintained fine current through it - with risk of becoming too free-floating still present - less excessively so. Safety net below was found with trumpets precisely marking their quietly ominous ‘annunciation’ motif – allowing better space for descending principal flute – as if to make paradoxical contrast between this and loosely played upbeats earlier.

After broadly pacing second subject well, Barenboim effectively built excitement through rocky third subject, with still risky accelerandi - obbligato principal horn in effect jumping in, as though chomping at the bit. Something of just cut above human dimensions was made of the ‘annunciation of death’ – impact felt very well thus in place of taking it on along lines of metaphysical dimensions; all then prudently faded to silence with well achieved stillness for all at near total cessation of activity.

Barenboim infused circumspectly better paced Scherzo with clumsiness to ‘deutscher Michel’ notion behind its main idea - with thin strings above to start things off. Light timpani strokes underpinned light re-transition in the strings throughwistful gray descending cascade in the flutes. Grand rhetoric from unison violins marked final step of re-transition back to recapitulation very well. Slight drag to four note motif in trumpets derived from central rotating idea here was very apt and abetted restraining crudely clipping heavily brass laced repeat final cadence endings, of making anything so cursory thereof. Strings betrayed slight fatigue toward the end; otherwise, scherzo reprise made slightly more compelling case than first time through – with succinctly captured shifts in color, perspective on oscillating idea emerging in full.

Barenboim chose leisurely tread for the trio section this time, with broad rhetoric of its phrase endings and glow of light suffusing now spaciously accommodated harp arpeggio endings to each half - beautifully voiced horns the second time through. Strings re-entering after double bar sounded drowsy, but texturally open with opening statement reprise more specific in shape, plus fine sense of striving toward a peaceful close.

Central to Barenboim’s interpretation of the Eighth was the Adagio - finale effective denouement to follow. The Adagio in the Seventh prefigures to extent the Adagio in the very different Eighth; alongside such insight, Barenboim was effective guide the night before. With great yearning, violins assisted by fine pulsation underneath exerted pull with opening long held notes to the main theme, purposefully dragging well descending lines germinating thereof. Barenboim’s pace through just the huge buildup on A Major cadential chord, after Teldec, was still slightly brisk - not digging in all one could on doubled C-sharp in the bass. Moving through this chord too urgently denies making it count all it should. Abbreviated restatement toward more steeply achieved cadence (one whole tone higher) was firmer. Principal flute spurred cellos onto finer heights to fully achieve ardently sung second theme – rubato from calm French horn segue into such supple within the line – little to prepare for what risks Barenboim would then engage in.

Winds became impulsive during ‘Langsam’ interlude back to first subject, compelling strings to almost overstate their reply. With expressive shape maintained for new reprise of the opening theme, subtle immediate use of accelerando made felt on the consequent descending figure, once the strings picked it up, the impetus to break away. One might suspect Barenboim, trying to affect being Furtwangler, even to take things a step further - as occasionally suspected from an otherwise often circumspect Eugen Jochum.

Forceful repeat of same descending consequent in blazing doubled B-flat Major was anguished - behind it push to keep things moving ahead. Barenboim then circumspectly made fine separation for descending lines to restatement of the second theme; things kept rolling forward, even toward enfolding bright nodal pronouncement of second theme in C Major within the overall line. Pulsation was good for sextuplet accompanied reprise of the opening theme, but at restive pace, freely achieved pulling away became obvious. Establishment of D-Flat Major is such from which in the long run this music never entirely breaks free. Inexorable rush forward, though sufficiently loud climaxes in B-Flat Minor and A-Flat Major (Robert Haas restoration calmly in-between), indicated also by now a positivistic sense - striving by earthly means to achieve something of the infinite - to this, with, contrariwise hint of ‘annunciation’ becoming better heard tugging underneath lines to follow. After the shattering climax, French horns provided warm lit noble repose, to endure past the Adagio’s final cadence.

Barenboim’s impetus, what freedoms he took, was hypothetically to reveal the dialectics and accompanying stress – i.e. the special pointing of Scherzo idea to depict ‘Deutscher Michel’ crosscutting energy being directed toward constantly pushing forward motion to dilute, diffuse away such characterization. Here, finding a life-force in activity, motion forward made synthesis with dark underpinnings underneath. Here was not the Bruckner of Romantic devout faith or layered on with Romantic tradition learned device. Such goading, pressing forward imaginatively encountered here provided means of trying to close gap painful to leave open. Irritation with such handling, for straying away from conventional guidelines, could be expected - to perhaps be earned here slightly.

Detachment achieved was not such for Barenboim to find in an academic or intellectually achieved deconstructionist way, but out of necessity – including in such dialectical environs as how to maintain utter fluidity of line while keeping large impediments in trying to choke off all life behind it so prominent in its path. Subtle sense of decay through developing processes of this Adagio – even of main idea with Tristan derived pull to it – prefigures similar processes to occur in the Ninth. Constant positivistic striving to break free, keep life going, keep one oblivious of contamination from dialectical tensions all made itself felt. The beauty of this Adagio - in light of newer aesthetic than Furtwangler ever knew - Barenboim and Staatskapelle hardly ever compromised.

Insistent forward motion infused hefty, but rollicking start to the finale – fanfare in trumpets prudently placed halfway back, followed by reserved longing to infuse second theme group - with how beseechingly brass played their calm reply. Broad recitative in the strings in reply to insistent marcia third idea on purpose appeared detached from the rest. The Haas emendation to the finale sounded too bright, in response to first theme derived hard push on dominant chord for the mediant (E-Flat). Barenboim then also made too weighty opening the Development, next leaving brass flaccid in their repeated loud inversion of the first theme, in having arisen out of reprise of marcia idea heard first time slightly earlier.

Barenboim then became fastidious with lightly forward driven re-transition, insistent with it as though coda to the preceding section - all precisely marked. All prepared for an at once hair-raising, yet prudently held back start to the Recapitulation. Antiphony between pairs of trumpets for fractious secondary development was held prominent over rapidly scurrying strings toward dotted rhythm building of stretto of their own. Deep yearning infused again the second theme, at point - with no loss of poise - the physicality of all having transpired has this music practically crying out for place to find rest. Spacious provision for extended cadence in flutes, high winds to close this section was eloquent, as to even foreshadow Sibelius.

Finale coda, during which stable foundation for how to close entire dramatic argument had more than halfway been found, trudged slowly forward with third theme, culminating with arched climb in strings for harrowing restatement in C Minor at last of first movement first theme. Dissembling toward end of section (Coda, first part) also rhetorically aped sounding Sibelian here. Much air around violins for opening part two over rock solid brass helped complete picture toward – through steadily taken tricky brief D minor interlude – deliberate, purposefully a less than triumphant close.

This was arguably Barenboim’s finest movement – even while demarcated more conventionally than the preceding Adagio. This is not quite a definitive account of the Eighth; strides forward however with this interpretation are considerable - reckoning of what lurks beneath deep. As achievement here with the Seventh was enormous, so is potential with Barenboim on the Eighth and can happen in full. DVD release for four of the symphonies, including the Ninth, out of this STK Berlin series (with only perhaps further redo of the Eighth – one under review here plentifully exciting) would be very welcome, with for filler the Beethoven Fourth Piano Concerto.

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Friday, July 16, 2010

DR Kultur: RSO Berlin, Marek Janowski. Emanuel Ax almost single-handedly saves all-Brahms engagement. Philharmonie. 04.06.10.

Marek Janowski's past season with RSO Berlin has been truly something conservative - a complete cycle of the Beethoven nine, a series of mostly 19th, early 20th century music by French composers and two, likely several all-Brahms programs. What competition there is around, one expects more effort, care for Brahms than encountered here.

Janowski felt on relatively safe ground with Tragic Overture. Without taking anything to (quasi-)'period' extent, Janowski started things off conscientious about clear separations between its opening jagged textures and stark dotted rhythms, but too jerky, detached of the latter. Spinning out of first theme became too loose - indefinite for winds attempting to carry line forward. Janowski did best here with supple, ardent handling of overture's second theme, both times it appeared (as to open later the reverse recapitulation). Janowski caught well the apprehensive calm of preceding bridge section – aptly dark but mildly damp brass on abbreviated chorale this little section frames.

Janowski took cortege starting the slower (extended retransition) Development too light, glib through its woodwind led lines; what solemnity remained came across ironic, half-baked. Perhaps worse was heavily cliched back-phrase from violins playing at nearly double pianissimo, where only marked pianissimo, so that pianissimo marked brass became incapable of underpinning much of anything at all, then resulting in their brief, sonorous transition into warmly opening reverse recapitulation getting devalued or undercut. Spongy attack on first theme group octave descent jumping dotted rhythms segued into increasing stodginess the rest of the way, from which then the music never again recovered. Clumsily played luft-pausen occurring soon before the end helped characterize the rest. Granted, bigger names have made a mess of Tragic Overture, obscuring its form - sense of progressive turn too this music takes lost, regarding its abundant stark figuration and rhythms upon which it is built.

One assumed Janowski perhaps could have taken his ease toward letting much of the Opus 16 A Major Serenade play itself. Nevertheless, the two orchestral serenades have their subtle traps. Partly for not watching it, partly for being distracted by less important matters, Janowski fell often unsubtly right in. I recall the New York Philharmonic, perhaps very least desirable of any leading big name orchestra to play this music, Riccardo Muti a few years ago lovingly led through the longer D Major Serenade, as though no measure therein can be taken for granted - regardless how easily it reads to the eye. The whole thing just glowed under balm of sun-drenched Mediterranean color, infusing the amore with which Muti compelled the Philharmonic to respond.

Good lift was provided winds for downward lilting series of triplets to lyrically begin the opening Allegro moderato. Due to insufficient attention overall, repeat of first theme turned flaccid, losing just about all shape. Jerky pointing of alternating voicing and offbeat chords through the Development quickly turned wonky, right preceding brief violas’ maudlin attempt to stabilize the line. With same slovenliness, soggy accents helped drag down the coda to an adequate, but unpromising first movement. Following scherzo went worse - Vivace taken a stodgy Moderato, tense on its accenting, thus draining it of much animation. Trio led by C clarinets and bassoons comfortably fared better, but reprise of scherzo, with mildly more obvious strict adherence to tempo fazed Janowski equally as much. Hemiola (partitioning off in two beats in place of marked three) stretto jumping octaves comically slipped from being coordination with all the rest.

Equally an Allegretto to the Scherzo, the following Adagio non troppo also proved discouraging. Apart from workmanlike handled scherzo, it might have seemed more normally paced. In lilting 12/8, quarter notes seemed slightly too short and eighths slightly lengthened - out of such seemed fear of being unable to keep line secure through all this otherwise. Section of obviously gentle repose in flatted lower major key proved reliable anchor for restoring ease to musical matters here; return of the Adagio at least gave illusion of proceeding in more restful mode than how it first appeared.

How the intermezzo 'quasi minuetto' – almost prefiguring several late Brahms piano pieces - could have gone more flat-line, drab, missing shift of color to bright major submediant (F Sharp Major) for being already in wistfully cheerful major key, is an enigma. Reprise of F-sharp major parenthesis even entered almost a full half beat early - after practically etude dull regrouping style reading of the intermezzo’s trio section.

Rondo-finale opened regrouped, lightly clipped - as to hint at street accent for its caccia style frolic. Brief turn to minore for winds became soggy, with jerkily half-confused string section interjections to mark off the woodwinds’ simple, candidly retiring lines. Second theme proceeded texturally light, but rhythmically not - of which Janowski made more flexible shape upon its reprise. Attempt to make ardent lean on cello descending line played non rubato risibly proved off-tether. Forced esprit was made of much of what remained, with heavily marked trudging of open intervals in the lower strings and wheezing RSO woodwinds, all to goal of little more than dull thud to conclude it all.

Principal French horn of RSO Berlin waited to recover until later than his opening solo lines to recover from case of soggy timbre; Emanuel Ax began his part with clear sense of expectation if then less than entirely optimum accenting of his extended lines to begin the Second Piano Concerto. Janowski started orchestral exposition forthright, but with accenting still more out of place and sense of routine to spelling out of its argument. Somehow from this Emanuel Ax mysteriously very fluently played his solo exposition opening flourish, entirely free of grand-standing – still sounding detached from what had preceded him. Ax, continuing phase of heroic stance seemed to almost entirely guide the course of events in this performance as playing, judiciously so, essentially an obbligato part – albeit not quite Clifford Curzon at this; who is? Searching quality of fantasy persisted with Ax, looking past phlegmatic orchestral impetus – with stiff accenting on violas too insistent underneath more interesting idea on horns to push anticipation of next episode. Accent pointing between RSO Berlin woodwinds and Ax became momentarily too incisive.

Phlegmatic transition from Janowski into more agitated closing section to the Exposition could have sunk a much lesser soloist, not to mention the flat-line stiffly coordinated support that persisted, denying soloist any kind of firm springboard off which to play such difficult figuration. Ax blithely sailed through it, conscientious of orchestral part, but again as though not encumbered at all. Better perhaps this setting than up against a self-styled deconstructionist take on the orchestral part as Horacio Gutierrez (who repeated considerably better the same concerto with Litton in Dallas weeks later) encountered in Houston long ago under Eschenbach. Ax just almost alone guaranteed sufficient lightness for B Minor scherzo like section of the Development, then limning fine re-entry of principal idea in the horns with great ease. Light orchestral filigree early on in the recapitulation failed to remain together with Ax; dull RSO Berlin winds then entirely undercut Ax’s negotiation of difficult octave jumping trills at end of section, all preceding sturm und drang approaching these having been denied all line. One should not think ‘support’ to describe orchestra’s role in type of concerto Brahms wrote four times. Janowski’s leadership was even insufficient at that.

Clunky accenting from Janowski confusingly undercut light jumping octave pointing of line toward making sufficient peroration to first movement almost sustained alone by Ax, oxymoronic as it sounds. Ax, who it seems could never get lost in dull thicket he had run across here, I mention as funny quip here, was found to entirely miss a big quiet, unencumbered celesta tremolo entrance in finale to Mahler Symphony No. 6 with Eschenbach (to follow Prokofiev First Concerto) here approximately twenty years ago. Sitting in Jones Hall, I was unaware of what exactly had happened - the entire incidence almost completely inexplicable for remainder of performance to ensue.

Janowski for opening idea for the D Minor intermezzo-scherzo waited until past trio section of this to find any shape therein. Mysterious, highly taxing interlude for rapidly shifting octaves, other intervals in Ax’s part again coasted by entirely fluent - so unsupported to have come off almost completely flat-line orchestral preparation thereof. String section’s hatchet-y accenting of opening of the Trio section made it sound something down home (near-) Deep South. Ax fluently contrasted tone of wistful inquiry with well couched open passionate outburst where called upon, as though again oblivious of so much in the way. As much as the orchestral part should intrude, buttress the soloist, ability to find such input more than half the time was difficult.

Principal cello of RSO Berlin, finding more thorough poise for later reprise, followed Janowski closely in allowing sag to his lines and then intonation thereof. Opening lines to the Andante then ended with waltz-y back-phrase before bassoons and strings, followed by oboe, began to better enhance the pastoral mood. All then dragged to such an extent, it was all Ax could do to keep line alive - to change marked ritardando into a subito poco piu mosso. He continued rhapsodically, wistfully, through middle section in which Janowski hardly found any definition at all. Quiet re-transition into brief recapitulation and then poetically achieved slow ascending chords from Ax closed parenthesis, framed an ending to, against meager effort toward making Brahms’s orchestral impetus to the easier Andante happen.

All was adequately light and piquant for the finale, but with queasy hint of Biedermeier to it all orchestrally for not more forthrightly taking it on. Ax continued with fine deft aplomb, wit, fervor, and ephemeral passionate outburst or two pianistically – with savor for this music’s incidental zingarese schmaltz - lust, shall we say as well. Ax even at one point very remarkably replaced Gypsy orchestrally, i.e. crude accenting, with ‘gypsy’, as though halfway deaf to what the orchestra had just played, but ninety-nine point five percent sure just intent, lightly so, to set things right. Right afterwards Ax with great ease tripped through opening bars to the Coda – tepid, flaccid underpinning from RSO Berlin no curb or restraint on him whatsoever.

One could only remark at end of the day on the valiant, practically heroic effort on part of Emanuel Ax – what valuable at all had emerged from this go at Johannes Brahms. Given such circumstances, but most of all his highly developed intimate knowledge of this piece, I do not recall better from Ax, though certainly good before, than this. It was as though he had walked into the Philharmonie with in his mind’s ear what much better orchestral playing to which he played his difficult obbligato part a previous time. His disc, to earnestly seek after, with Haitink in Boston (Sony) could remain some reference.

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Monday, July 12, 2010

BBC: Wien Staatsoper revival of Mozart's Don Giovanni (de Simone) - posh elegance led by saturnine d'Arcangelo, unstylishly conducted - 22.5.09

As somewhat featured highlight of Vienna State Opera’s 2009-2010 season came this revival of the Roberto De Simone production of Don Giovanni - familiar to some off dvd with Carlo Alvarez, d’Arcangelo, and Riccardo Muti. It is reckoned quite a stylized affair, as some of De Simone’s productions are – the costuming drawing slightly confusingly from different periods. Muti on his La Scala dvd of the classic Giorgio Strehler production goes the stretch in making clear definition of his interpretation of Don Giovanni – very dark, somewhat along lines of early 1950’s Fritz Reiner at the Met – whereas the studio-bound Vienna Philharmonic recording from him two years later finds things inflexible, excessively strained to its own detriment. Such has discouraged me from seeking out the newer dvd. I only trust d’Arcangelo to doe a little better as Leporello than he did for Daniel Harding at Salzburg, opposite Thomas Hampson.

This revival was conducted by young, upwardly mobile Greek maestro Constantinos Carydis; one most of all had to rely upon the singing to pick up any profile to this Don Giovanni, since from Carydis it mostly lacked any. Ildebrando d’Arcangelo proved making the move from servant to master one he had handled with tremendous ease. He proved somewhat a saturnine, otherworldly presence as the Don, of fully convincing aristocratic bearing, while also proving flexible at interaction with his Leporello. There was no doubt however his letting Leporello, and then especially the Masetto know who is boss, until, before a bewildered sounding d’Arcangelo, the statue at dinner has the tables turned on him. This proved quite an exciting interpretation, one in picking up in thoroughly three-dimensional perspective the part’s demonic qualities - making such essential key in getting just about everything else therein.

d’Arcangelo’s voice is not very large, but there is enough buzz behind quite rapid vibrato therein with which he helps make it sound bigger; the Don causes him no apparent strain. His nobility, even at times grandiosity, and solicitousness in approaching women proved winning, while making overt the Don’s epicurean zeal for life and also slight, brusque impatience for anything that might stand in his way. d’Arcangelo was able to sound baritonal enough on top for recitative and other lighter passages, but it could also always be heard what reserves down deep he had upon which to draw at any time. This was true, even with the fine ease and legato with which he sang ‘Deh vieni’, the serenade in Act Two. We were not quite in the presence of another Siepi or Pinza here; it is hard to imagine how the Don could today be much better sung or acted than this.

Even ever slightly better was the by now definitive Leporello of Rene Pape. Pape has grown a little in the part, his voice slightly darker, than when seen at the Met in the new Marthe Keller production five years earlier as Leporello. All mix of humor, irony, sarcasm, envy of the Don, dismay, occasionally open disgust, fatigue moreover with the Don got put on fine, but never overstated display here. Pape proved a Leporello worthy of a Don, such as that of d’Arcangelo. d’Arcangelo clearly acknowledged it so. Pape’s posing as the Don befuddled before Donna Elvira proved example of a Leporello close to as conspiratorial enough with the Don as just being his servant and very funny. ‘Madamina’, with fine legato, arch to its line for its second half, had some of the best pointing of its text I have ever heard, all as though unaware - very funny.

There was never the feeling one has to broadly sell the humor of Leporello, and this was no more clearly felt than during the cemetery scene, not thoroughly all buffo elements to it discarded, but the fear, nervousness Leporello feels before the marble statue was seriously felt to extent, one could also pick up slight clue of uncertainty from d’Arcangelo as well. Neither d’Arcangelo nor Pape was better than the other at trying to disguise his voice as the other early on in Act Two, but from both it was enough that it was plausible how it could have fooled the other characters onstage, while still letting us in on who it always really was up there. Pape’s Italian diction, patter with it was first-rate and nuance thereof. The other bass or bass-baritone who in the past twenty years who has so smoothly made the transition from being Leporello to Don has been someone most certainly underrated at it – Feruccio Furlanetto. When he recorded it, he proved the Don practically to be a better part for him than the servant, and while opposite the slightly too heavy Leporello of John Tomlinson. These two make practically as fine a team as can be heard anywhere on disc, and so could d’Arcangelo and Pape.

Rene Pape is next, if he has not yet made the transition already. Nearly capping such a delightful Leporello was the beginning of the supper scene. Pape let most diction and even for a few notes intonation go completely south on him to depict servant gorging his face and hardly able to restrain himself of, unmarked, humming along the tune with the winds as he went about it. Even with Carydis rushing, lightly clipping the tune of ‘Non piu andrai’ in the winds onstage, Pape hilariously got the message across. It was not the only moment that Pape made it clear how much Leporello envies his master, albeit purposefully subtler at doing so earlier.

Ricarda Merbeth made noble lady of Donna Anna, grievous tragedy of her loss felt, with good line, warm timbre, but also a degree of tremolo that made both break and top unstable. She capably made for herself that Carydis’s slightly ruthless, definitely glib pushing ahead of tempo during opening duet with Ottavio, accompanied recitative and vengeance aria not much stand in her way. She eventually managed during scena with Ottavio and following vengeance aria to sally forth several solidly firm acuti.

One hopes that Merbeth can lighten somewhat her use of her voice, certainly a fine instrument, approach to music as well that she need not push either so dark or even hard at times - as she seems wont nowadays. Much of ‘Non mi dir’, with lovely floated B-Flat right before start of the aria also went quite well, but Carydis set little contrast of tempo between opening Larghetto and Allegretto, both of which sounded quasi Andante from opposite directions; unfortunately then some strain, hooty tone set in for the closing section of the aria. Phrasing during the earlier Act 2 sextet however was particularly lovely, following misshapen frame from trumpets on their brief turn into D Major.

Michael Schade made an excessively obsequious, even at times retiring Don Ottavio. Expectation of such an Ottavio putting forth any real kind of defiance or vindictiveness to anybody probably has to be reckoned to go for naught. Voice and persona are still pleasing enough, though for even just for Mozart’s lyricism, a little more firmness of line should enhance matters. Carydis’s streamlining of ‘Il mio tesoro’ was insensitive to Schade and Mozart’s music alike, leaving tenor really a little too high and dry toward being able to make smooth enough re-transition to reprise of the aria’s opening.

Possibly even a better match for the Ottavio of Michael Schade than the more sturm und drang Merbeth was the somewhat ingénue Elvira of Soile Isokoski. Hints of t Maria Stader interpretation for Ferenc Fricsay, on his fifty year old studio recording of the piece definitely came to mind. Carydis played accompaniment to her part, to practically reassure we were seldom going to get any strong accents for anything. Much of the lovely tone, phrasing, sympathy for what she was singing was there, much as it would be with a Stader or even Janowitz (had she ever sung this), but something of the fiery lady of Burgos went missing – with memories of Antonacci playing Elvira in this production probably still fresh. She, to be on the safe side, played verbal exchange with the Don for comic effect, but fortunately again without overstating it, as it is best to side – taking into account Elvira’s confronting of the Don in front of Zerlina seconds after ‘La ci darem’ – with Elvira’s intent as really being instead quite serious.

Isokoski certainly tried singing ‘In quail eccessi’ (one accompanied recitative better than aria to follow it), but Carydis, to affect being ‘period’ tended to heavily clip the rests between her lines. Lack of profile was such that Isokoski, though very fluent with the runs through ‘Mi tradi’, lightly lost intonation several times. Pair of brief trios anticipating statue’s arrival in the dinner scene also got streamlined from the podium, but Isokoski still managed somehow to convincingly eke out sympathy for the character, and for her brief lines in the epilogue as well. She managed to start off strongly for ‘Ah che lo dice mai’ during first encounter we see between her and Don Giovanni.

Michaela Selinger was the lovely, somewhat dark-toned Zerlina. Incipient tone of worry in her voice in meeting up with the Don and then with Masetto a couple of times afterwards certainly felt real instead of cloying. Apart from being a little under the note at the break for the latter, her singing of both ‘Batti’, batti’ and ‘Vedrai carino’ was fine, showing doting care for her Masetto, played by Boaz Daniel very convincingly as naïve bumpkin but also as with eyes wide awake as to what the Don’s shenanigans are. The beating of Masetto in Act Two sounded especially light, as though Masetto just barely getting slapped around. It is definitely a more violent moment than it sounded here.

Boaz Daniel, in place of unwelcome caricature as Masetto, vocally made handsome profile of the part, as still worthy suitor to Zerlina. The half swallowing up of the cello obbligato into blend of overall orchestral texture during ‘Batti, batti’ showed further insensitivity, inexperience on the part of Mr. Carydis, but Selinger somehow still remained at ease in caressing, even at times almost floating her lines through it and with gently incisive pointing to lightly bring the the aria to a close. Eric Halfvarson convincingly put human face, sense of outrage on his Commendatore for opening scene, but had trouble toward making any convincing menace of the statue, trying to avoid a too persistent wobble. Carydis’s streamlining of, rushing through the final scene of opera proper (before epilogue) undercut the terror that should definitely be felt here. Fortepiano continuo, with all wit, charm, grace, insinuation he could put into playing and ornamenting the part was absolutely first-rate; Vienna State Opera chorus was also fine.

Getting past adequately shaped overture and also accompaniment of less complex numbers in the opera itself, the Vienna State Opera orchestra, while smooth in execution, maintaining line and balances, offered too often faceless, even weightless playing, especially in terms of support for the singers on stage. Constantinos Carydis, though he clearly has some ear for Mozart, became here too prude in observing ‘period’ or ‘quasi-period’ notions (as this was still played on modern instruments) while not nearly observant enough of form and proportions to such as even the quartet, ‘Non ti fidar’ in Act One (almost entirely denied its character and how it develops), not to mention sextet in Act Two, with which he was more careful – still not good enough – not for the Vienna State Opera. Finale to Act One, especially its second part, from refrian of ‘liberta’s’ through stormy end to it just sailed glibly by – with internal contrasts to first part of the extended finale missed as well.

Should grandeur be considered out-of-date, approaching Mozart’s Don Giovanni, then even while quasi-period we are no longer ‘period’ enough anymore. D’Arcangelo, even with Rene Pape the Leporello, stood out in this cast as perhaps best for what the podium was missing. It may be a darker interpretation of the Don than to which we are accustomed nowadays, but far better this than the hyper-kinetic light baritone who often in a bad production instead gets the lead. Carydis yielded often well to d’Arcangelo, except for too rushed Champagne Aria; even so, something failed to register here. Take it from someone who likes very much, proudly owns already mentioned Erato Barenboim recording of this, with equally powerful, convincing pair of master and servant it offers.

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