Met: Ariadne auf Naxos - that did not ever quite disembark from Naxos

Ariadne auf Naxos, to supposedly end us airborne to close cycle of three Strauss operas this Met broadcast season instead left things mostly feeling earthbound. Vocally, it was partly the most successful of the three this season – and orchestrally the most rehearsed of them as well. The last consideration, as explained below, is to be found an anomaly, since Kirill Petrenko (Met broadcast debut) is, a little better than routinely competent at it, less the natural Straussian than either Edo De Waart or Fabio Luisi.

Sarah Connolly, consistently the strongest member of this cast, certainly appeared to, as Composer, to have different idea in mind, as to the outcome of all this. Apart from Von Otter, she is perhaps the best singer we have heard in this part in a good while. Youthful impetuosity came to the fore with most supple tone, animated gesture and only qualm, a little question about support near the break. Once she is into high register, all is secure, confident, relaxed. Connolly also proved most flexible in switching color to darker for lower notes as precocious intent switches over to more serious by end of the Vorspiel. The several times I have heard Connolly, I certainly look forward to further opportunity.

Nina Stemme proved the vocally richest of the four leads. Little surprise is, for sure, to be had this way. As haughty prima donna, Stemme found the right lightness, insinuation, insistence, etc. Low notes proved luxurious in Ariadne’s opening solo; Ariadne’s invocation of her own name together with that of long-departed Theseus conveyed fine innigkeit. High notes were also fine, light enough certainly on a few of them and notably on others to sound heroic, hint of Birgit Nilsson with some steel to them. Overall here is a voice and manner though altogether more redolent of Leonie Rysanek in smoky color of Stemme's middle, low registers. Reason for the lack of Rysanek’s flexible expressivity in achieving a gleaming top follows below. Take for example, for sake of contrast (too), Rysanek’s Kaiserin or even for Solti, that of Julia Varady.

Something thus of the authority of a Rysanek then goes missing. This became ever more evident from “Es gibt ein Reich” through the extended finale to the opera. Once Stemme has someone more inspired on the podium, such as in Berlin last December Metzmacher for Salome final scene, then we have back more fluid line, nuance, variety of color and expression. Here, instead, the line tended to turn choppy, especially during the final scene of this. With the lyric line pre-eminent in Strauss’s vocal writing here, Stemme’s fullness of sound in Ariadne simply became too unvarying before the end of Saturday’s broadcast.

There is something to admire in how single-minded a conception of Ariadne this is, but it is perhaps also one that never transforms or gets to do so. Here was an Ariadne who perhaps closed with as much incomprehension as same character opens with in this opera. The fullness of tone heard from the stage of the Met did not quite effectively compensate for some lack of emotional warmth or engagement and also freedom to yield to more abandon needed toward end of the final scene with Bacchus.

Kathleen Kim, first heard on Met broadcast two months ago of Tales of Hoffman as Olympia, made a perky Zerbinetta, one charming in terms of personality and determination, but of only qualified charm vocally. Here the problem, in this thoroughly elaborate Janus face of an opera was with Kim close to being opposite that of Stemme. Kim would get distracted by musical demands and text and at times would forget the most proper or pleasing placement of voice, causing muscles to constrict, tone to thin. As even the big aria progressed – “Grossmachtiger Prinzessin” – Kim wised up quite rapidly, but even late into it suffered still some lapse. Agility for getting over most of the notes was there – using the standard version of the aria. In easier passages such as duet with Connolly in the Prologue, Kim left a warm, endearing, most human and realistic impression as leader of the players.

Without better help from the podium, what lapses did occur made something mundane out of Zerbinetta, ultimately making somewhat two-dimensional her character and situation. For how difficult Zerbinetta is, this can occur quite often. Even set to mundane words, the way such get set to music contains some element of magic or of the otherworldly - that as in many other instances nowadays, got missed here. Something did not yet again quite succeed at tapping into the divine - for things having been brought down to earth simply too much. As engagement with a still very young singer on verge of what could become a major career, it was still good to hear Kim in this.

Canadian tenor Lance Ryan made his Met broadcast debut as Bacchus. His diction was good, clean, and incisive; he got his lines out as Bacchus with their full intent. However, his tone tended to be almost always of the tightly squeezed variety – not for part to rest content to sit comfortably in the middle, except for a few passages at which Ryan succeeded the most. His tone quality did not match favorably with that of Stemme - her sound certainly something of an indulgence heard next to his. Though weak on legato, Ryan sounded forth an intelligent Bacchus - if hardly ever ingratiating tonally or musically. He did not make anything particularly inviting to hear really at all; seldom has any tenor been able, flexible to do so with this music. This Bacchus thus did not sound as anybody from whom true hope for liberation or chance at freedom might ever come.

All three equally effective, Jochen Schmeckenbecher exuded fine authority as the Music Master, Tony Stevenson lithe grace as Dancing Master, and Michael Devlin deftly pointed etiquette as the speaking Major-domo. James Courtney was close to equally fine as the Lackey, but lacking, with age, some vocal steadiness. Of the four players accompanying Zerbinetta, the two tenors were best - especially the sweetly dark color toned Brighella of Sean Panikkar alongside nicely contrasting Scaramuccio (Mark Schowalter). Less convincing were Markus Werba, excessively belaboring the text of his simple lines as Harlekin close to point of there being no line left to sustain them, and Joshua Bloom as a stiff and somewhat wobbly Truffaldino. The quartet of men did not particularly blend well. As the three nymphs, we had three voices that did blend well, but both a little unsupported on the very highest pitches (Anne Carolyn Bird), and on the very lowest (Tamara Mumford), with Erin Morley the fine Echo in-between. When their trio was at greatest ease, a silvery impression, as should be, still made itself known.

This leaves Kirill Petrenko, leading the altogether seldom inspired Moshinsky production of this at the Met. The Omsk born debutant, it certainly sounded, received more rehearsal time for his chamber forces to lead this than did two more natural Straussans the Met has already had this season in Fabio Luisi and Edo De Waart, for Elektra and Rosenkavalier. For each of them being more the natural at this, they each dropped hints numerous places in each of the above, especially Luisi during Elektra.

One never got less than routinely competent leadership from Petrenko, apart from perhaps a couple of glaring errors. Much of the Prologue rustled by both efficiently and nicely for much of it. Both the lightness and sweep that should set it off was, however, not quite all it should have been. Petrenko had inspiring help from Schmeckenbecher, Stevenson, the Zerbinetta of Kathleen Kim her, and especially from Sarah Connolly.

Clipping of accents for music to do with either Composer or the comedians worked to varying degrees mal-apropos. It also found Kathleen Kim pushed to an unmusical extent for one isolated passage in her great aria. Petrenko also crudely pushed Lance Ryan through series of bench-pressed 'Circe's, just for purpose it seems to save Bacchus from near-strangulation. Here overall from Petrenko was indeed however orgiastic excitement, when compared to Robert Spano’s attempt at Ariadne auf Naxos from Lyric of Chicago (Deborah Voigt in title role fine, likely more so for Sinopoli) several seasons back. In more proper context, the Bacchus/Ariadne scene in each eventually became little better than Iphigenia in Brooklyn, which the Met in effect produces next season, starring Susan Graham in the title role. In fact, the real Iphigenia in Brooklyn could be better. One should wish for Hector Berlioz to still be around to defend Gluck, perhaps Richard Strauss as well.

Getting back to the point here, Petrenko’s concept of contrast between heated ardor of Bacchus at winning over Ariadne and subdued reply from Mozartean trio of nymphs was as streamlined, lacking in either dynamics or expression as I have heard such transition, at times back and forth, being made. So much then for contrast between the Apollonian and Bacchian aspects of even Strauss’s writing for especially this most eloquent finale.

Transformation indeed! Could Kirill Petrenko really be who Bayreuth picked for their 2013 Ring? Here at the Met was enough craft to halfway pull Ariadne off, especially had the cast been better, but little in the way of imagination, wit or lightness. Such clearly revealed Petrenko slightly outside of his fach, perhaps significantly so. The Met with Kathleen Kim repeating as Zerbinetta and Robert Dean Smith as potentially a real Bacchus gets to try again in 2010-11 with Fabio Luisi at the helm.

Met (in HD) - Rosenkavalier of despondent, migrained hausfrau, merely road show quality

I initially with great anticipation awaited seeing Rosenkavalier in hall or simulation thereof conducted again by Edo De Waart. If ever any straw that broke the camel’s back, it was Kurt Moses’s review (American Record Guide).

Growth of the Marschallin in the planning by Strauss and Hofmansthal of what was first to be farce or burlesque, Rosenkavalier in this process gradually took on numerous layers. This included so much what should be to prudent extent read between the lines. This work of a composer having entered middle age, addresses the ephemerality of time, of our lives, all its inherent mystery, while still being the great comic masterpiece it is. Bad performances of Rosenkavalier tend to altogether miss these layers, subtleties. Two now fit the category very well. Those are the Salzburg dvd (Bychkov), worst it being the Robert Carsen production, and this also ineptly re-staged revival of the venerable, decade-ago refurbished Nathaniel Merrill production. Broadcasts of the Merrill go back with me as far as 1973 (Dohnanyi) - often well conducted, staged - well sung too.

What definitively did not rank one of the worst Rosenkavalier’s I have ever run across was here in Houston in 1975, conducted by Edo De Waart, starring Evelyn Lear, Flicka Von Stade, Patricia Wise (Gockley), Michael Langdon, and Derek Hammond Stroud (Faninal) – James Atherton as Valzacchi - that Philips recorded in Holland. The recording made a year later stars four of the above. It is still available in succinct package on Decca (budget line). Sets, costumes were sumptuously beautiful. Von Stade was in best voice she has ever been and Langdon (not on the recording) was the subtle and very well acted Ochs. De Waart conducted toward getting as immaculate and engaged playing from the Houston Symphony more than realistically construed possible.

When the Wortham opened in 1987, it was the 1975 Rosenkavalier - not Porgy and Bess or Treemonisha (Joplin) that made Broadway – of which David Gockley mentioned being most proud, his fifteen years at Jones Hall. De Waart was thirty-three years old, and insisted upon the complete score, just as on Philips – all unabridged, no stage cuts. I knew beforehand I had to swallow there being the standard cuts last Saturday.

Renee Fleming was the Marschallin for both Met runs this season. I, wee hour Saturday, reminisced by putting on, in aging voice, Evelyn Lear. Her intelligence with text and musicality are now legend, but lack of entirely secure technique as well. Her Desdemona a year later here was slightly more conspicuously unsteady than her Marschallin on stage here.. Lear is so prudent, tasteful, musical, ever so vigilant for De Waart, for the Strauss, that to hide vocal lapses, she keeps voice both light, as supported as possible. She thus emphasizes the words for rich subtleties they convey. All then comes across with illusion of all being very beautifully connected, even if often not quite so.

The odd question jumped to mind - whether Renata Scotto ever sang the part, with as an aside the heavy emphasis on projection in how she coaches singers - one can pick up from handful already coached by her. One gets the very forward placement with on the surface the music and character, regardless the cost to good intonation, line, or vocal purity. Scotto tried Klytaemnestra in Baltimore not long ago. What could’ve it been like to hear her Marie Theres’?

Renee Fleming Saturday figuratively started to answer this question. This was less heavy-handed a Marschallin than she sang here in 1995, but here it was her role debut and conducted by Eschenbach, whose tempo for Intro and Pantomime (Act 3) and other decision making changed from night to night. She was paired with an especially opaquely produced, sounding Octavian; that only when free of interaction with her, was she able to free up to momentarily lighten her voice. Listen to Berlin New Year's Eve gala with Abbado (Sony), where she joins Von Stade and Battle for final trio (and duet) to hear how not long before she had picked up just about entirely the right idea in mind. One could pick up from the Met, even if vaguely this time, that Fleming had effectively again somewhere already lightened her approach to handling both music and text. So much left unrehearsed, the Met treating Edo De Waart on this occasion as their house boy, the green light was back on for lingering bad habits to be given full rein.

Kurt Moses spoke of ‘in the throes of first love affair’ schoolgirl - the way Fleming acted this, but while upbraiding Octavian in early scene, La Renee also sounded peevishly matronly hausfrau. As phlegmatic, reticent, only halfway attentive to nuance the Met orchestra sounded, under-rehearsed under leadership that may have halfway given up, Fleming’s voice turned unforgiving, inflexible as such, in being able to well maintain tonal center and shape to line. However, in ironic banter with Ochs especially, Fleming achieved a light touch and momentarily an easily achieved top.

Low notes however were often grunted and barked, especially during final scene of Act One. Acting between Fleming and Susan Graham sounded as though they perhaps have walked the boards together in this opera a few too many times already. It all more than began to sound all smug, all-knowing – almost to contradict Kurt Moses just fleetingly here - in wrong way from both, and as working with Met orchestra on autopilot. What pathos should come across did so self-consciously - lacking light hand toward anything for there to exist any Marschallin.

All this reminds in a way of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, but Fleming taking it on so heavily now - poor man’s Schwarzkopf - the neuroticism of Betty's interpretation very studied, thought out, but still affected. Fleming’s is also near so affected, but also dampened, depressed, in perhaps good need for shot of Prozac, as tear-laden opening of the final trio sounded. She did make something of the line in Act 3 about having something against men; her barked reproaches however to the Baron lacked authority. So did the heavily gulped, almost choked ‘Ja, ja’ at the very end, It is now, we all know, often crudely done yet a different way (i.e. Stemme, Pieczonka on dvd).

Susan Graham was indeed the Octavian, certainly energetically enough coltish, but clearly middle-aged here, going phoned in through all the usual expected antics as Mariandel. One could hear a valiant effort put forth to sustain staying on pitch during early phases of Act One; later, when out to pour it on, the pitch sagged badly. There were no special insights to offer here, lest generic response to everything be satisfactory. Graham equally compromised Octavian’s ardor for Sophie with painfully flat G-sharp making it into duet coda with Sophie midway through Act 2. Given the parlous condition in which Christine Schafer sounded Saturday, Graham overpowered her some with supporting line underneath - also earlier intermittently overpowering Fleming. She helped make the Act 3 Trio sound more opaque than it would have without her.

Can we still remember what press Gywneth Jones got for her recorded Octavian with Leonard Bernstein? There may be with Jones slightly less even line a few places, where Graham is more firm (if still not in tune). Jones’s intonation is still better than that of Graham. Dame Gywneth apparently had participated with Bernstein in Vienna earlier as Octavian in 1968, but waited until having entered a bad patch vocally to record it.. Today, all is forgiven. As much as we were as an aside reassured from backstage at the Met on ‘Meg and Ira’ that the cast and staff had listened to the old Philips recording instead, I would have guessed, if not knowing recording dates, that Jones might have instead. Gywneth Jones knew somewhat better than Graham that if one lands a pitch on sustained note a bit sour, to fix it as quickly as possible. If Jones could still sound today as she did in 1971, I’d immediately call her back if put in control of the Met. In context of what got said then, no sense can be made at all of what press Graham has received.

Christine Schafer, once a great Lulu, achieved perhaps the worst Sophie - including very choppy Presentation of the Rose with ugly break in legato between, first, C-sharp and higher A-sharp on “Wie himmlisches” – I have yet heard. Everything got produced so very wrong. Schafer’s capture of the rebellious teenager, even naughtiness, certainly came across incisively, but as two-dimensional. The almost constantly hooty tone and pitch so bad as to be hard anymore to discern eviscerated any semblance of charm.

Icelandic bass Kirstian Sigmundsson started out a witty Baron Ochs, but of rather dour frame of mind and of Nordic accent. It was a little confusing though, that as the Baron’s ox gets gradually more and more gored, that Sigmundsson appeared glib through the whole ordeal. He was said to be good at acting the part - probably the best of four leads on this outing. It sounded too, given that his low register could turn a little rough that he might have been down with a cold last Saturday. Same might have been true for Schafer. Sigmundsson genuinely conveyed more warmth, certainly more than last two mentioned female leads, as opposed to as any contrivance. Except for increasing incidence of a chuckle to end so many lines, whether it fit or not, Sigmundsson was in earnest about occupying his character for this.

Thomas Allen, forthright enough, sounded both worn vocally and too stern in intent as Faninal. Among four supporting tenors, Ronald Naldi (Faninal’s major domo) and Tony Stevenson (Innkeeper) were best. Rodell Rosel (Valzacchi) lost all distinction to his character by delivering all his lines in far too tight, needle-thin a sound, enough at times to set one’s teeth on edge. His countenance, vocal quality to have so much edge as to lose all slyness, effective cunning of what Valzacchi is about, came across impotent. Eric Cutler, glibly accompanied, made little of ‘Di rigori armato’ except for very bleated acuti and for rushing into second verse of it to be left hanging on high B’s or through them in as expeditiously short a time possible. All intended grace, charm went out the window. Erica Strauss was the pert, incisive Marianne, all of one piece as such, except for minor unsteadiness around break - and high C on which she wimped out – by releasing it early - at fever pitch peak of turmoil at the Faninals.

Wendy White was the insinuating then convincingly forthright Annina. Jeremy Galyon the serviceable Police Commissar, with his part somewhat severely cut. James Courtney was the highly caricatured asthmatic notary, when funnier, more subtle, to point out the generally common tics, mannerisms of being a notary - especially as one hired on by an eccentric. The three women as orphans during levee made complete wobble fest out of their trio; four lackeys, waiting on Marie Theres’ were clearly not together at all. Bernard Fitch effectively played major-domo to the Marschallin.

Edo De Waart clearly gave of much less than his best on this occasion. Certainly, the hints were all there of a stronger interpretation of Der Rosenkavalier, even such through his still wittily pointed intricacy of woodwinds parts. Most worthy of note were still the very familiar passages from the suite, such as certainly robustly led grand waltz for the exit of Ochs in Act Three, pristine sonorities during Presentation of the Rose, and much intricacy, especially in runs for flutes, other woodwinds during Introduction to Act Three. Interaction with, support for singers frequently sounded belabored or reticent, so disengaged or glib in response to lines being sung on stage, in attempt to interact with all that – most notoriously for extended finale to Act One.

Most damaging, horribly distracting, past mention of many ensemble problems uncharacteristic to extent occurring here for De Waart, was cut of a full two thirds imposed upon “Da lieg’ ich” (Act Two – Baron Ochs). No authorized cut to this passage exists; even if there was, it would have been much smaller. The idea got lifted from early 1980’s Karajan Salzburg - with which De Waart never had ties. A little more then of the burlesque scene with the police commissiar got cut than ever should be. Not much, but the entirety of it, with what touches of humor could occur, had a streamlined quality to it - very uninspiring. The congestion motif (strongly hinting at very same with Klytaemnestra) certainly made its mark, but Sigmundsson's coarse roaring of 'Leupold, wir geh'n' was way too broad - and ineffective. Ira Siff on the Meg and Ira show pointed out that both composer and librettist meant the humor in Rosenkavalier to be very broad, not just to win ear-to-ear smiles from the hall, but uproarious laughter through it all. It is much funnier, by the way, to do police commissar scene complete, instead of letting all rely upon broad formula alone.

The ‘yes, I agree with you’s’ during ‘Meg and Ira’ were so excessive it could have instead been Mister Rogers. Had I been caught unawares, I might have expected in silver cape and jacket either Daniel the Tiger or King Friday the 13th to bear rose to Sophie instead. Sophie and Ochs would then have to be married happily ever after, that is if Sophie wanted any better experience of married life than to a torso. With all the cuts demanded of De Waart, had the Meg and Ira show been any longer than the 37 minutes a piece the twice it came on, ten minutes each in overtime, then relevant it would have been to pick up broadcast reminiscences of Francois Clemmons and John Reardon, even as Singer and Faninal, respectively. And then there was what static Meg gave us about how we should - being addressed as bevy of sixth-graders - be affected by the mature experience, wisdom of the Marschallin. Such insight perhaps most of all indicated how sensitive Peter Gelb is about anything of his facing criticism.

Furthermore, Meg and Ira started parroting Peter Allen - betraying that he was ultimately of slightly less class than Milton Cross before him in his citing for special praise an obviously pension hungry and increasingly wobbly Met chorus. Meg and Ira now spoke so very patronizingly of the Met orchestra (while in unrehearsed state). It has sunk this low, should this all keep up. De Waart returned the favor, by openly struggling during interview as to whether ‘marvelous’ could have been the right word for them, to perhaps half-intended humorous effect.

Renee Fleming, while perhaps not yet an ideal Marschallin - few there have been - achieved near enough to definitive interpretative, much better in tune profile of Marie Theres’ a year ago at Baden-Baden (now on dvd). She also achieves numerous true pianissimo, flexibly supported by Thielemann. Equally could have been so with De Waart, if with orchestra less glib and loud. An air of cool mysticism to Wernicke’s production very skillfully envelops Fleming, toward convincing atmosphere, world in which the Marschallin should be seen. Such a world captures so well in full something usually latent about her near despair, loneliness - such as Fleming has spoken of her.

What is morbidly self-conscious about, for example, “Die Zeit im Grunde” in Fleming’s hands fit this time as part of such a complex world that here – so much more flexible vocally - it is hard to distinguish from the very psyche the Feldmarschallin fully inhabits. ‘Leicht will ich’s machen, so dull, plodding Saturday to have been very easily missed entirely, was still in Baden-Baden a bit too heavy to make complete sense. Very favorably, Baden-Baden allowed Fleming to get lost a good three-fourths the time into her character; Fleming appears on screen very content this way.

Very seldom have I heard work of someone, caliber of De Waart, be so misrepresented. If the Met really wanted results achieved here, why not have hired Colaneri, Claus Peter Flor, Summers, Carl St. Clair or Eschenbach instead? For stark contrast, check out the Philips (now Decca) recording of thirty-four years ago.

MET: Saturday afternoon dress rehearsal of Elektra oratorio by Strauss

Word traveled quickly that this was to be as detailed an Elektra in orchestral conception as we might ever run across today – since Giuseppe Sinopoli conducted the opera for DGG (and perhaps several other places as well) some years ago. Deborah Voigt was in considerably finer voice then than as heard today. Now, and after hearing Luisi brilliantly do Alpine Symphony with Staatskapelle Dresden from the Proms last summer, one could only surmise that such take on what was about to be heard today and probably throughout this run was something a publicity person may have picked up either first or second-hand from rehearsal sessions, limited as they most likely were. Dramatic intensity together with current of neuroticism that should infiltrate got cut off for most of the 106 minutes of this – with usual stage cuts taken.

One stage cut was most certainly necessary today - that during 'Was bluten muss?' - as Susan Bullock could have, like other sopranos attempting it, easily come to grief with it otherwise. Impetus from Fabio Luisi for unearthing so much that this score has to offer was clearly present - picked up well in the more obviously translucent passages of Elektra. A too easy tendency toward arched crescendos and hatchet downbeats on strong chords was a little more exaggerated than would normally indicate a well rehearsed performance of this. There were numerous lines in this Elektra, in the second Chrysothemis scene for instance that had the attentiveness, nuance, ease that would not make it into completely making connection with more forceful outbursts. Such sudden moments in this score break in at what can often seem at less than a moment's notice to many listeners.

It is the business of the Met orchestra not to sound as though unawares at all on such an essential staple of the repertoire as this. Numerous places, such as for howling, barking dogs, heaves, groans, flute untethered tremolo hallucinatory flourishes in central scene with Klytaemnestra Luisi attempted to bring out, but got anywhere from emerging halfway to mostly smothered instead. One need not even lightly italicize to the extent that Sinopoli does with the VPO on DGG to make such places count, at from Sinopoli only mild threat of breaking up the line. Numerous orchestras however, including the Met itself seven years ago under Levine with orchestra in top form if still an Elektra not cast especially well (except Voigt and Pape as Orest and partly Hanna Schwarz as the queen) have done better. They have certainly more meaningfully, with company under Joe Volpe’s oversight previous Saturday Elektra aired considerably more naturally brought so much more nuance out as well – all due to better rehearsal standards.

Even moments of incisive dialogue such as concerning Orest keeping company with dogs in Atrean stables and of demeaning the manhood of Aegisth by Elektra got halfway blown off. One heard the pitches, the text, but the meaning of it all just rather glibly sauntered by. Elektra’s digging for the axe in anticipation of Orest's arrival just almost sounded jackhammer enough that one could have assumed a woman at it with the biceps of George Forman or Mike Tyson; rushing up and down of cellos and basses anticipating the murder of Klytaemnestra was competently played but still unsubtle, and also broke tension by starting too loud. David Chan’s hallucinatory concertmaster solos in scene with Klytaemnestra were at first covered up, then unsubtly projected over orchestra playing still slightly too loudly not to cover them up otherwise. This was largest indication thus far that Luisi did not get the significant time he needed with his forces.

Luisi indicated numerous times his grasp of the elaborate harmonic scheme behind Elektra, a good if broad sweep to the line, very likely broader and less specific than he would have preferred. The opera he was to originally conduct at the Met this season was Frau ohne schatten. There was often specific shape to the line so much so that one could imagine how much better and ornately adorned it all could have been, if given the time - such as was heard from the Proms last summer for Alpine Symphony – ‘Alpine’ that alludes to both Elektra and Frau at once in a few places.

The best quasi-indication of under-rehearsed conditions was a tendency to underline places somewhat too conspicuously, such as during the first scene with Chrysothemis. With the very thorough time that Luisi has justifiably spent in Richard Strauss, one should hope to hear him do Elektra again, but under more favorable conditions than provided here. This was not so much badly played as just so often a tentatively, phlegmatically engaged account of Elektra – not good enough for what is deemed by Meg and Ira and also many others too to be the best opera orchestra in the world. Luisi and Dresden proved last summer, by comparison to this, how much better an opera orchestra it often is – with Alpine Symphony – some of the Orest music from Elektra intoned so beautifully today by the Met brass, to which it alludes.

The cast today proved very routiniere. Susan Bullock, had I tuned in unawares of who was in this today, could have had me imagine I was hearing Deborah Voigt as Elektra from ten or fifteen years ago, except for an aging Debbie as Chrysothemis standing right next to her, probably looking at the conductor like the Elektra too could have so much of the time. From comment I picked up from across room where I was listening to this, they each could have been trained out of the same school of Banshees as well. As much as I would hope against Voigt attempting Elektra so long ago or at any time really, same must also go for Bullock. Here is a voice for sure too light for this from singer willing to mostly coast through it, drawing with obvious effort upon what limited resources she has available to get through this.

Mid-register sounded hollow, low notes slightly choked, often weak, and a conspicuous spread almost always emitted through the passaggio. Passage such as the fleeting seduction of Aegisth, which calls on the Elektra to relax vocally emerged with good irony and revealed late in the day some acting ability on Bullock’s part, opposite an unpleasant Wolfgang Schmidt, barking off pitch at times - hardly more unpleasant than perhaps should be expected of Aegisth. Otherwise, singing and acting on Bullock's part made an overall bland impression. As opposed to what others have written - as opposed also to what Schmidt has given us before as Siegfried - Schmidt was not the problem today – certainly no more than any of the rest of this.

Deborah Voigt, in place of succeeding at a more aggressive, frontal approach towards Chrysothemis, emerged with just mostly harsh and unfocused tone instead. The middle voice, pushed so, immediately turned vinegary and strident. Whereas the voice freed up nicely to spin off a few high B’s and B-flats, especially toward the end of the opera, numerous of them could have easily come off differently. Low notes - scary to reckon for Susan Bullock - for Voigt came off no differently than for Bullock herself - dry, hollow, cracked - even almost choked at times. Voigt, as heard in Four Last Songs with DSO Berlin last summer, can still sound good, when not being compelled to press down – so hard at times here as though trying to compete dramatically with Bullock. Releases off notes were often unreliable from both women. Evgeny Nikitin (Orest) slightly reminded of Tom Krause on the deemed classic forty-three year old (though slightly over-rated) Solti recording. One could appreciate well Nikitin’s dark tone for Orest, but diction was mildly questionable and legato just cut or two above patchwork at times. Still, he won sympathy for the very ominously destined brother - in anticipation of brutal task before him.

Of the supporting cast, all three men were fine, John Easterlin and Kevin Burdette as Young and Old Servants over glibly, heavily italicized trounce through it orchestrally, and especially Oren Gradus again as Tutor to Orest from also the 2002 Levine broadcast. Rehearsed well right beforehand was the start of the ‘Orest ist tot’ introduction to the same scene, but like with so much else, follow-through was conspicuously weak. Maria Zifchak and Wendy Bryn Harmer as Third and Fourth Maids emerged the best of their lot, with a fine Overseer in, conspicuously enough, Susan Neves. Jennifer Check, as Fifth Maid, sounded outside of her element today – in comparison with her participation in Il Trittico two weeks ago.

Just listening to this, set design for the long central scene with Klytaemenestra could have just as well moved onto the floor of Chippendale’s with the rattled queen of Felicity Palmer - by now somewhat of an institution unto herself. Seen recently on disc as so fussed over, italicized to death her Zita in Gianni Schicchi under Annabel Arden and Valdimir Jurowski was, this is not surprising. No doubt, Palmer has walked the boards of the rattled queen numerous times by now. Opposite what was promised by Meg and Ira during very gratefully an abbreviated edition of the Meg and Ira show, Palmer this time gave us a Klytaemenestra from, colloquially speaking, exaggeratedly the Regina Resnik school of singing it. There was here considerably less solidity tonally - less of a solid core altogether - and less subtlety with words for sure than with either Brigitte Fassbaender for Abbado or Resnik in the part. She lightened up to attempt winning sympathy for the queen in moments of tender reminiscence of long departed happier times; much of the rest of this came close to being barked.

‘Ich habe keine gute Nachte’ ended for an entire line down in C Minor a quarter-tone flat. Having admired Palmer well for so much in the past, her Klytaemnestra included, I reckon today that other than for cameo parts and Countess in Pique-Dame, it may be getting close to time for Palmer to hang it up. For old time's sake, let us save such a Klytaemnestra for camp on PBS British sitcom or something even slightly more debauched.

Meg, alongside Ira, rewrote history in indicating Elektra as having been written nearly a hundred years ago, which if it had been done so, would have put it after Rosenkavalier. Anton Webern no less found Rosenkavalier highly admirable but recidivist after Elektra. And then there had to be the ‘back stories’, except in the case of the Oresteia, these are not really such back stories at all. For tragedies that have been out in the open to cool and dry off in the sun drenched air (with taint of olive oil) over ruins for two millennia now – add on a few centuries as well - one expects a little more or at least should.. For acting subtlety purposes, perhaps even Felicity Palmer, even with estimable knowledge of her part could have used a little consultation by Susan Flannery on how to get it right.

For acting that ranged from broad to glibly passed over (as so inconsistent to have made this conceivable as heard as merely a concert performance), much of Elektra today could have passed as some bizarre, past life episode of something or other around 12 Noon weekdays. At this point should Flannery, certainly with many back stories of her own and for her character too to offer, be at all a fan of opera, I would welcome her on any Saturday afternoon in the place of slap-happy eager Margaret Juntwait. I certainly would hope then she might take up the offer. Fine to hear from you, Susan, just as long as you read the libretto, plus some pages of historical background, commentary before coming on the air.

- Comments dedicated to Lai Tzi-Huei at Cambridge - who attended a near-definitive Stk Dresden Alpine at the Proms last summer - and especially to Edo De Waart, who gave Jones Hall (in Houston) an immaculately rehearsed and absolutely complete Rosenkavalier for HGO in co-production with Netherlands thirty-five years ago here.