MET: Met McVicar Il Trovatore (in HD). Marco Armiliato. 30.4.11. Met Ariadne auf Naxos (on NPR) - Fabio Luisi.07.5.11

David McVicar’s production of Il Trovatore at the Met, when it first opened there in 2008-2009 became something of a Godsend, particularly after Graham Vick’s production. Vick later disowned it, after the Met had imposed some changes upon it, but also after really disastrous luck in making this ever reliable old warhorse come to life. Should one want to pick up the ideal party opera dvd, a Genoa Lucia di Lammermoor Vick produced, starring Marcelo Alvarez in only decent vocal performance therein, contends strongly, misfiring in all ways imaginable, often risibly so.

The spring 2009 broadcast Il Trovatore – with same vocal quartet as cast here – likely turned out, with Gianandrea Noseda conducting, tmost thrilling of that season. Equally to only mildly more authoritatively was Bruno Bartoletti conducting this fairly recently from Lyric of Chicago – where this production originated. While less distorting of balances and of other subtle intentions Verdi requested than Nicola Luisotti in San Francisco, Marco Armliato while keeping all together and alternatively finding good poise and swagger for numerous passages, lacked much compelling to say about Il Trovatore.

David McVicar clearly has ideas about Il Trovatore, while giving it a critical look especially toward how participating nobility behaves. Given what eccentricity that can emerge from such a perspective, and based on experience thus far, this production looks to depend upon having a strong ally on the podium to help keep dramatic tension alive. The action is updated to ‘Goya period’ Spanish Civil War - and placed on a turntable set. Prison cell for final scene looked instead to be an outdoor prison courtyard to which to get chained up. Only too obvious awkwardness was change from cramped interior to ‘outdoors scaffolding’ - preceding ‘Di quella pira’

The brutality of period in history in question, sense of class warfare arose eloquently to the fore, near as much as likely on previous outings. Mix of common townspeople, laborers, Gypsies, soldiers milling about, and then generically lusty whores for scene of taking leisure opening Act Three provides color. Swashbuckling motif became slightly excessive, but with set up of tableau for confrontation ending Act Two highly adept. Lighting tends to be consistently dark – also manner in how this got beamed by satellite – to point of obscuring several essential details of action on stage. Costuming (Brigitte Reiffenstuel) true to updated ‘period’ – was consistently very handsome, attractive.

How entire milieu taking over agitates di Luna, Manrico, turns Leonora neurotic can, with somebody more thorough conducting this feed it an expressionistic grandeur and abandon – very welcome here – such as has transpired before On the surface, to Armiliato also, Il Trovatore is a singers’ opera. Toward one goal however of holding its occasionally disparate levels of musical and dramatic inspiration together, this is also clearly a conductor’s opera - perhaps more so. Crudely (almost) making orchestra more prominent than the singers of course is wrong – Luisotti conducting this same production in the Bay Area one most culpable.

Best of the three men for this outing, most even vocally, was still relative newcomer, Stefan Kocan as Ferrando. He cut a handsome figure with dark, grainy voice to match – excellent case for making Slavic equivalent of veteran basso Bonaldo Giaiotti on the old Price/Domingo/Mehta recording. Gruppetti, runs, turns were all accurate, even some trills, to make Kocan envy of any bass attempting this thankless part. He also, yet stoically, infused his lines during opening racconta with fine involvement. He in front of men of the Met chorus very capably led obbligato to Hvrostovsky during two ensembles midway through.

Central to McVicar;s thinking here is necessity of having a strong Azucena. The ever stalwart Dolora Zajick failed to disappoint him. Some streamlining of the process of putting this back in rehearsal for two runs at the Met this season may have taken its toll, but Zajick, with darting eyes for key moments, still commanded the stage. She stoically assisted McVicar in providing Azucena full sense of gravitas - for one so single-minded but also complex - in evincing both full warmth and menace – enhancing too the mystery surrounding the gypsy woman. Trills during ‘Stride la vampa’ may have been unsteady, Zajick’s voice overall may not consistently roll out the power it could instantly on command ten or twenty years ago, register shifts may be less even. Sense of authority though, from fine low notes through ringing top through most of her lines – was still intact. McVicar also opts for keeping Azucena alive at opera’s conclusion – logical perhaps in this context for her to have survived action thereof.

Marcelo Alvarez, who during excellently focused milieu of this production’s debut in 2009, gave of his lyric best – striking one then as only slightly underpowered for Manrico. He opted with abandon afforded him here to push a little more metal into singing Manrico this outing. Indisposed earlier during this run, he seemed to have recovered well to close this same run well. Ringing high B’s were intact, with fine swagger through ‘Di quella pira’, he managed to utter some honeyed tones during ‘Ah si ben mio’ and recitative preceding it, but still managed to chop up line somewhat during this passage toward making strong verbal emphases. Somewhat of a blank as an actor on stage, he emerged vocally most lyrical, convincing in the final scene of the opera, working closely with Zajick – doing so also paying off several dividends during their first scene together. Rhythmic slovenliness through a blustery ‘Deserto sulla terra’ to start things out was singularly unattractive – also his streamlining of refrain during the Miserere. His letting go of anything resembling good intonation for sake of achieving dramatic heft continued recklessly through Act One.

Dmitri Hvorostovsky played Manrico’s unsympathetic rival, di Luna. A little stiff at acting he still cut a commanding and handsome figure, with mane of silver hair, colonial style get-up, and during Per me ora fatale’ outstretched self-bloodied right hand – self-emboldening impetus for moments later taking on Manrico’s men – very insightful on David McVicar’s part.. Dark toned sense of mortal resolve carried across the footlights for recitative with which he first appeared on stage (‘Tacea la notte’) and made resentful looking, sounding ‘In braccio al mio rival’ later. Intonation issues surfaced for pumping out his sound that later intermittently turned into pure bluster – thank heavens less so than recently in San Francisco; his di Luna emerged entirely two-dimensional there.

Apart from bench-pressing the top, putting at risk maintaining legato, ‘Il balen’ came across stalwart, if less alluring than whomever out there might strive with smoother line to more subtly enhance it. Machismo in engagement with especially Manrico and Leonora, also an element of narcissism, surfaced well – compromised late by intonation momentarily going sour on him upon making final stage entrance.

Sondra Radvanovsky cut attractive figure on stage as Leonora, with noble ladylike poise for a good half of how she carried herself – still compellingly for the rest of this. Even if making Leonora appear willful or neurotic, a Leonora all noble, dignified without any sense of daring also obscures telling the whole story. Vocal placement, somewhat back, causing her to flat numerous times around the break, particularly during Act One, remains curious. Steadily infusing extra vibrato into the sound seems quite consistently her means of opening things out and achieving a clear, less occluded top better than might otherwise emerge – her reasonably even, creamy tone, legato underneath a mainstay. An excitability to laugh during several tense moments looked slightly out of touch – perhaps due to some streamlining this go-around. Superficially, Leonora may appear one of Verdi’s more passive heroines, but element belonging to Verdi’s earlier notably heroic warrior maidens, sense of new liberation they convey, can also factor in – if less so for Leonora than for handful preceding her. While having to confront di Luna, such likely should not remain under wraps. Radvanovsky looks fully convinced of how she portrays Leonora – apart perhaps from impetus to give things a little extra oomph she may this outing have sensed lacking from the orchestra pit.

Once past Act One, intonation problems became less significant. Floating of numerous lines during ‘’D’amor sull’ali rosee’ – starting off slightly flat - and during especially repeat of “Per che d’’altri vivere’ - long-breathed final entreaty to Manrico provided fine allure, winning much sympathy. Maria Zifchak (Inez) and Eduardo Valdes (Ruiz) capably led supporting cast – Robert Maher also fine (Old Gypsy). Choral preparation (Donald Palumbo), natural feel for moving chorus across stage, all sounded and looked very apt.

Marco Armliato evinced fine mastery of idiom with aplomb while not challenged by Verdi’s more subtle demands. His ear for catching this music’s colors is good. Swagger, specificity with Verdi’s rhythms throughout first scene of Act Three certainly came across forthright. With exception of glibly coasting through explosive transition into closing trio to Act Two, necessary fire to seethe through Il Trovatore became more evident during its middle two acts. In numerous passages, a glib streamlining of how to pace this work became the norm. Opening of the final scene suffered somewhat - passage in which Verdi achieved new heights of simplicity. Efficiency, loyal support of his cast, decent ensemble seldom came up short, yet some lack of fire to infuse, surge underneath, propel forward the best Trovatore’s one can encounter came up a little short; hopefully the same will occur again soon with this production.

With Fabio Luisi now new principal guest at the Met, perhaps soon more than that, a generous helping of Strauss from him over next handful of seasons or so can likely be welcome. Like an Elektra during fairly recent Christmas holidays, this Ariadne auf Naxos evinced an equal mastery of Strauss, the idiom, but as held back again in part by quality of some of the singing. Combination of catching the healthy robust air, thrust of prelude to the Prologue, lightness to infuse much from within revealed somebody a slight cut above average at this – inherent qualities slightly more evasive to Kirill Petrenko (new Bavarian State Opera music director designate) last season. Providing, combined, a fine sense of gravitas and importance, with dollop of fine comic wt and irony was Thomas Allen, in interaction with Major-Domo of Michael Devlin – Devlin fluent, but whining, marking it excessively, making more of it than can happen.

Voice still relatively intact, Joyce di Donato, absolutely certain to look charming on stage, vocally left some of the youthful qualities altogether infusing this part lacking. Determination to get Composer’s idea across did so at cost to stability of line and to intonation, all quite slippery around the break partly for what flutter one finds there now.

The impetuosity, even heroic quality of this character hardly got compromised, but something of the charm, openly at Sarah Connollly’s disposal last season, went missing here. Mystery of particular lines serving as preview to what gets raised after intermission got short changed by weak low notes – high notes also succumbing to strain for lack of support underneath. Thin as opposed to thick and strained, coy, utterly without charm was the Zerbinetta of Kathleen Kim – repeat from last year’s cast – less up to the demands of her big aria than for tentative stab at it last season. Attempt to expressively compensate for obvious sloppiness, compromised intonation during the aria were excessively breathy starts to especially lines starting on off-beats - to ruinous coy effect.

Contrast of gesture, intermixing of colors, unified pacing to the Prologue worked well for Luisi - mysteriously somehow little at his disposal useful toward helping out some of his cast. Among supporters during the Prologue, Tony Stevenson availed himself directly well as Dancing Master. Violeta Urmana and Robert Dean Smith individually affected prima donna manner, habits backstage with fine aplomb. Vasily Ladyuk dryly, but capably, with good diction led Zerbinetta’s sidekicks – team only let down by a coarsely dry Truffaldino (Joshua Bloom) but enhanced by recent Lindemann Young Artists grad Paul Appleby (Brighella) partnered well by Mark Schowalter (Scaramuccio).

Opera opening scene came across slightly glib, compromised by merely competent Nymphs (Audrey Luna, Tamara Mumford, Lei Xu) in place of a more consistently silvery impression. Luisi’s lightly malleable way of moulding Straussian line waited for Met woodwinds to enter to cast ispell during prelude to the opera. Curiously, return of the nymphs heralding arrival of ‘ein junger Gott’ came across hard-pressed, Luisi then waiting for orchestra moment before Bacchus enters to magically open out perspective. His accompaniment for Ariadne’s solos was warmly supportive throughout – lightness Luisi usually best at conveying while accompanying comedian troupe’s banter.

Violeta Urmana, past several early slightly uneven moments, with plummy, warm timbre, portrayed Ariadne as woman of stately poise and resolve The clumsy breaks that can too easily emerge between registers during recent attempts at spinto Verdi do not inhibit her efforts here. Slight Slavic edge near the break sneaked in, but hardly obstructively so. “Es gibt ein reich” carried forth with even line, intimating well a betrayed, stranded woman’s darker misgivings, but then direct manner with rapturous coda to this aria betrayed a keeping at arm’s length what infusion of vulnerability might work toward revealing the complete picture. Urmana conveyed well, darkly Ariadne’s more distraught emotions - before point Ariadne fully awakens to, becomes cognizant of new reality before her. Shock of mistaking Bacchus for Theseus blazed forth with a ringing high A. Once transformation should have done its work, however, Urmana came across cool, only dispassionately able to take all in where one might expect more involvement, yielding to it until during closing lines; one departed hearing this grateful most of all for some fine singing.

Robert Dean Smith, intensely lyrical Tristan on short notice at Met in HD three years ago, got handed here the thankless role of Bacchus. In attempting to sound heroic starting out, some strain ensued; such hardly ever fails to show up from most tenors attempting this. For relaxed passages to follow, “So willst du mit mir” and confident ‘’Bin ich ein Gott” toward gently bringing Ariadne around, Smith let melt most effortlessly. Once into last part of this scene, Smith finally then evinced good moment or two of ringing heldentenor sound, bringing Met forces under Luisi to point of at last fully breaking free from phlegmatically, as opposed to effortlessly negotiating, sostenuto, Strauss’s ornately voluptuous demands.

From pretense up front of being written for chamber orchestra, yet to take on larger peaks of Ariadne/Bacchus finale ahead with similar transparency, little goes unexposed here. By opera’s end all then should rhapsodically take flight. Luisi is not one to come up with transformation overnight of how Met forces (that likely might soon be his own) will approach playing Strauss. He reckons it something to communicate by most unforced means, something natural to the Met’s playing to slowly get inculcated as only certain way magic can transpire, as opposed to smugly putting contrivance forth instead.

With Ariadne – when she is bad truly Ariadne Obnoxious - orchestral forces can not alone make it happen - instead working alchemy between all constituent parts, especially singers, perhaps working past clunky staging conceits (Elijah Moshinsky production the Met still cranks out). It can mean the difference between the good, serviceable presentation that has surfaced here and one to predominantly lift far beyond the footlights to very rear ceiling of the house, filling all in in-between.

BBC Proms 2010: Proms 24 and 27. BBC Scottish SO, Donald Runnicles. Karen Cargill. Halle Orchestra, Mark Elder. Paul Lewis.

Prom 24. BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, Donald Runnicles. Karen Cargill. Edinburgh Festival Chorus. Royal Scottish National Orchestra Junior Chorus. Royal Albert Hall. August 4, 2010.

This resulted in second Mahler collaboration by Sir Donald Runnicles and the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra for the BBC Proms, the first one of which, Mahler’s Lied von der Erde, also featuring Karen Cargill, anticipated Runnicles assuming helm this past regular season as their new chief conductor.

As first one of these I heard, this interpretation of the Third, in its overall profiling of form, was reliable, but in finding the character of this music within such, tentative. The first movement, paced well, but with self-conscious thrust on occasion to keep all moving - for fear of instead dragging things - made inchoate slush out of some of its fabric. Such became only able to fully dissolve right before end of the first movement. Boorish romp of the Rabble episode and enunciation of most trombone arioso both happened very capably. Runnicles distinctively also found a rapt stillness for long rests between more dramatic utterances, mostly during wintrier episodes of the first movement.

Curious was a tendency to press forward sometimes, to get stopped by numerous sub-phrases in early funereal sounding rumblings through this - the losing sight of being able to press still a little more forward through series of these. Excessive dovetailing of many phrase endings in arioso developing in solo brass, partly to hide how expressively generic Runnicles’s handling of all this was, also became distracting. After first soggy intimation of thaw outdoors, Runnicles made confusing in terms of placement (vis-à-vis accompaniment) trombone lines through concertato of brass to what gets intended as fairly definitively nodal, sufficiently final conclusion - before real thaw settles in. Deep pulsation in the lower strings to close this section only compensated so far.

Some haze was made of figuration leading into more complete thaw to arrive, followed by adequately, surreptitiously entering march; handling of climatic music to cap further overt pressing forward was stodgy. Large segue back to renewed cold blast (in D Minor) got rushed and brass arioso solos to follow again were shapeless, with change into brighter color for brief duet between concertmaster and principal horn matter-of-fact, only minimal. The Rabble section started off well, very much in character, but then lost – eight measures in – lack of focus to line ensuing through it. Strings through the storm then got drowned out, compromising the full effect of a summer storm to wrest one through the midst of all occurring about. Runnicles then awkwardly jumped over good two beats of rest for snare drum to urgently segue in the recapitulation Calibration of rustling tremoli beneath more spacious spinning out of arioso in trombone was even a little more emphatically off than before ‘rabble’ and tempest, but BBC Scottish cellos framed eloquently their closing phrase to what followed.

Lift verging on Disney, cartoon-like opened second half of the Recapitulation. March tune, though through much of the rest gained better shape and dark episode right before the end, with its large, wide sweeping gesture, ascending runs too finally at last gaining the profile they deserve. Push to the end from here turned so light, detached from all the previous to insipid length, perhaps to help one forget the limited engagement of the shifting variety of colors and light through such a sprawl of a Mahler first movement.

Dragging accents from the oboe principal apart, the Minuet took on pleasant shape, but with Runnicles once into first Mendelssohn like trio self-conscious about downbeats, to make sure his forces all enter right. Clarinets, coming off strong gust of wind coursing through the meadow with refined attention to where downbeats are, restored requisite lightness to the touch for most of this. Drowsy feel, though on verge of becoming too gilded, informed reprise of the minuet, but nervous insistence on securing downbeats stood in the way of finding sufficient magic for varied strong breezes to waft on by through reprise of the trio section – bespeaking less than fully adequate preparation for intricacy to ensue through all this. Not all charm could get lost here, but there continued a nagging sense that there could be more to all this than to come by underlining so much – with final restoration of the opening section here. The heavy gilding of the light surge into the Neapolitan in the violins indicated perhaps higher rates of humidity out on a summer day in the highlands - or near Brenham where the bluebonnets grow and by the ice cream we eat, we surmise the cows near here think they graze in heaven.

Third movement, marked Comodo, got to the most promising start of anything thus far, with all rustic accents clear and good jaunt to the Beethoven parodying trio section. Just the concertato of winds at play through the scherzo seemed, one could surmise, as effective self-guided, as having to be extra attentive all the time to reassure the maestro that, for their section, all remained intent on staying together. A few disproportionate accents and over-emphasis on fortissimo crane downward of octave staccato brass distracted from overall good flow in advent of expansive posthorn interlude to follow.

Broadly taken post-horn interlude began magically – post-horn placed more forward than perhaps is ideal. Some element of the vernacular then crept in, even crooning of such, into the playing, limiting to ordinarily sublime this adieu to romanticism. Spirited enough, forthrightly paced, extra pointing of kletzmer accenting and sloppy attack in the strings during scherzo reprise turned vulgar. Birds, perhaps wanting to catch more Mozart, Schumann in the posthorn calls when they resumed, had to blithely settle once more for muzak instead; with perk aplenty, they did just that. Runnicles made something too lightly restrained for very close to the scherzo - after slight trouble right before with notably brief, mysterious episode – before all got sent hurtling off to a very rollicking conclusion.

Equally flat-line as mysterious episode right before - it called for to be very close to still anyway - was how opened the Nietzsche lied. The deep toned, highly expressive and solemn Karen Cargill guided horns into obbligato of very well sculpted line; violins followed suit eloquently on their cantilena between verses. Cargill, past illusion of practically too motionless re-start, gave her lines, starting off very quietly, the fuller ardor, urgency with no lapse in quality of what she poured out. Why could not have the childrens' choir been called to rise out of their seats right before the caroling fifth movement, instead of two seconds in? All was crisp from both choirs, with Cargill lightly but very expressively delivering much expected penitential fervor for her lines.

Solemn fervor marked most of the Adagio, with measured, freely expressive slow opening to its noble line and arch. Mildly extra arched leaning into climactic passages, particularly the vertical handling of a last one to reprise of Minore episode, proved distracting. Fine overall legato, filling out of transfigured light pretty much however still ruled the day. One or two transitions produced from Runnicles tentative opening to coda reprise of the hymnal main theme. Second part of double reprise at one point also got a little more chewed upon than should be ideal. Runnicles, apart from excessively projecting allargando turns in the trumpet parts, showed restraint in bringing his steadily paced Adagio to a measured, very euphonious conclusion. Apart from several lapses, still achieved here was a fairly acceptable rendition of the Adagio, to close halfway decent, but ordinary stroll through Mahler's paean to Nature - his Third Symphony.

Prom 27. Halle Orchestra, Mark Elder. Paul Lewis. Royal Albert Hall. August 6, 2010.

One among set of ‘Impressions’, nine minutes long, John Foulds’ evocative ‘April-England’ opened this altogether fulfilling single Halle prom for the summer. It opens with bright woodwind dominated carillon of alternating perfect fifth triads, perfect fifth apart - cellos responding with folk-like air of their own. A passacaglia takes up the entire middle half of this piece. Mark Elder preferred within fine enveloped profile to emphasize this music’s warmer colors, but without understating too much its brasher qualities, as in some of its extended polytonal leanings almost coming loose from their tonal moorings. It is perhaps as much as anything our knowledge of the music of William Walton, that in this music’s brasher qualities and brighter dissonances, one may pick up on the surface some Petrouchka like quality to the scoring, but deeper still the influence of Busoni. Mark Elder preferred having this music play in mildly broader, Romantic context, but within fine technique on display from the Halle. For all the free alternation of contrasting, clashing strands to jostle about the Halle exuded much confidence. If not as fully characterized as possible, Elder made overall good nature of this music, with its vernal splash, still something to be presented as at forefront.

An air of self-conscious reticence with quasi-period abbreviated note values opened the orchestral Exposition for the Beethoven Third Piano Concerto. All suggested some fine opening out of the line with winds, their entrance with the lyrical second theme, Except for distracting clunky negotiated cadence of sorts, fine calibrated tremolo through Halle strings assisted very well preparing Paul Lewis’s severely negotiated first entrance, with even octave length runs slightly more rolled than how he played similar later.

From this point on, even including the on purpose strained sturm und drang opening to the solo cadenza, everything from this point on just fell ideally into place, with hardly ever any lapse to encounter again. In all three movements, Lewis’s alternation of solo lines with principal winds and elaborate accompaniment to them was astutely, keenly sensitive - Lewis always also providing strong shape or at least preparation to everything in this way. While always highly attentive to maintaining classical proportions, Lewis still brought out a fire, a stormy quality to even ends of lines of animated figuration to extend and highlight a solo line both seamless and febrile with vitality – all without even a hint of self-consciousness. It was very evident how close Lewis and Elder had come together long by the coda by the very rapt attention to all at hand from both, in as tricky a passage to calibrate as anything in the Third Concerto. Lewis’s marking of long first descending run with forthright marking of thematic motif in strong octaves beneath into scintillating subtly varied trills was further hallmark.

Even a hint of Lisztian fire subtly infused spinning off cadenza like runs in the Largo within sublimely classical profile, noble shape to it all; bel canto ardor for beautifully singing line on the Hamburg Steinway employed for this entire venture was clear. One had to take note of how nobly profiled slow measured ascents on staccato sixteenths to accompany chords in the winds then set off much spin-off of very bright filigree in the right hand to follow. All then through subtly profiled alternation of simpler lines restored complete sense of noble frame to the Largo.

On purpose hesitant solo opening to the rondo overtly suggested openly mischievous play to come – in most varyingly enlightened openly Haydn-esque a manner. Lewis made suggestion of Lisztian quality to most brilliant flourish in the writing, but as still strongly characterized and framed by very forthright classical profile to it all. Elder and the Halle could have scarcely ever missed a beat in what continued as their best efforts in combining so well with Paul Lewis. This even rang true through raptly attentive, well articulated fugato to frame re-entry by Lewis into sublimely framed E Major reprise of opening theme. Reclamation of the opening idea in C Minor by the Halle, sternly astute, recalled overall tenor, sonority of the first movement. For further contrast, skipping descending second theme was both sprightly and minutely pointed from within by Lewis – for Halle solo winds to attempt precisely matching him at it – at which they mostly succeeded. Lewis entered slightly early on purpose, rhetorically to spin out very brilliantly the bracing cadenza and coda to follow with, though rigorously firm, a very merry, bustling conclusion to not only a definitive interpretation of the rondo, but of much of what preceded it, concerto as a whole.

Richard Strauss at the 2009 Proms shared, between several major tone poems performed, the giving off of more brilliant virtuosity than have either Bychkov's 'Alpine' or this Heldenleben entrusted to Mark Elder. Whereas good characterization in Strauss takes much virtuosic ability to achieve it, the Halle, while understating it, remained confident. There is certainly a ruminative, philosophical element to take into account. Ironically, in taking such an approach (Luisi's 'Alpine' not lacking some special insights –cross-referencing to other Strauss), some of the humor that occurs in this music can feature in stronger, even high relief - as opposed, for instance, to resembling just another dollop of virtuosic gesture. Much, not all of the Mehta Don Quixote last year, brilliantly played, demonstrated very good ear for it.

There is certainly risk, with Heldenleben, in taking excessively the meditative or ruminative approach. Try for instance still fairly recent EMI disc by Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic - in which I had placed high hopes. It stands as one of the most pure, perfectly staid, marmoreal Heldenleben's around on disc today – nevertheless so well executed. With there being so much about the 'romantic life' with Strauss's hero, self-portrait here, one seeks, strives in vain for indication of anything healthy to this going on - apart from maybe Strauss’s long-standing patience, virtue, but hardly masculinity in living long with a woman who when peeved could on a dime turn shrewish. Toscanini, had he perceived impetus behind writing this was just as Rattle picks it up, might have held Strauss in close to same regard he did Bruckner - or speculate as to when Richard and Pauline might have taken up Christian Science or anything likewise ascetic.

It was thus with mild trepidation I approached listening to this Heldenleben; but glad to report glass considerably more full than empty here. Certainly one could construe a certain Victorian mild manner, restraint, reticence in going about this, but fortunately we were clearly into world as Strauss conceived it - thus farther away from Dream of Gerontius or The Apostles than with Rattle's still well polished Heldenleben.

Mark Elder made lean fervor out of the 'hero' theme, encouraging violins to make sharp cut-offs to their interjections between statements thereof. Foray into enharmonically achieved harmonies immediately turned all airy, with even incisive coloring of reverie penciled in - no gilding allowed. Fine, muscular striving was made out of broader reaches into restatements of the 'hero' idea ultimately into strongly marked passionate sweep up major ninths in the violins toward making freely broad cadence to this section. Elder relied not at all on prop of hairpin pause to politely frame adversaries' entrances; their insolence got forthrightly, rudely emphasized instead - with all variety of cocky wit possible, just exactly as all should happen. Languor from violins was in full supply to stoically provide empathy.

Cheeky reprise of 'hero' material refrain then ushered in Lynn Fletcher, first very pensively as 'Pauline.' – as though shy to enter center stage just as of yet. Her mastery of much delicious caprice to follow showed a few cracks - hardly at all to impede upon the variety of attack, wit, color with which she displayed the flighty moods, passion of Pauline Strauss. Surge of passion from all tstands behind her developed gradually - eventually to take it on in full, with simultaneously steady tone and unbridled passion, while keeping the simplicity of Strauss's design in focus.. Fletcher then with great ease fell back into fine state of reverie as full participant in taking it all in. it would have been churlish to ask for more. Rattle's 'Pauline' episode had practically become staid to effect it could have made D.H. Lawrence blush - not forgetting how well Berlin can still play it. Fletcher’s unusually fine portamento, coming off well limned harp glissandi, provided great finishing touch – followed by very fine reflectively ardent principal clarinet.

Battle proceeded with consistent touch of irony, strong wit. One waited s in vain for the Halle to make as grand a cacophony as one might immediately draw out of a Berlin or Chicago, but no matter. Shift in emphasis here was at least in spirit as much in line with what Strauss wrote as any hollow bombast to be made out of this. Much sharp intricacy of the writing in so much interplay very skillfully, especially in light upper strings and winds highlighted the irony. Such vain conflagration shifted gears with ease into lean, direct repeat of idea of 'man of the bourgeoisie' hero Strauss was - with repeat chord accompanying winds driving all stirringly forward. Elder only lost a little focus in this music taking on greater heights than perhaps his interpretation would sustain - yet with french horn principal excessively underlining his part (through notable quotation of Don Juan) as though attempting to take it all on alone. His excellently very controlled soft playing in final episodes, however, came across most refined.

Noble cast, broad pace, also expressively guided mild liberty with Strauss's tempo markings informed closing passages to this Heldenleben. If there were one or two places the Halle strings could have sung out more passionately, they only held back once again with overall shape of the discourse here in mind. A hanging, drained tone of reverie over still, rocking obbligato in English horn was most poetic, following agitated stretto Elder avoided making too brusque. The woodsy toned reminiscence of earlier tone poems in previous episode found Elder on equally intimate terms with all of this. Passing reminiscence of adversaries became oppressive, almost as though something frozen in the psyche - all the greater for arriving conclusion to be more reassuring.

Lynn Fletcher's duet with principal horn maintained very slow steady line - all riding out beautifully poised toward horizon – with brief following moment of peroration all devoid of bombast. If not the most inspired Heldenleben, it still had plenty to say - what genuine, fervently humane qualities in full this music should still ideally communicate.

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.

BBC Proms 2009. - Proms 73 and 74 - Vienna Philharmonic, Franz Welser-Most and Zubin Mehta

One might think ‘easy sailing’ from here – the Vienna Philharmonic on Haydn, Strauss, Schubert, Brahms. Well, as it says in Gershwin, “It ain’t necessarily so.”

Franz Welser-Most, stepping in on short notice for Nikolaus Harnoncourt switched choice of Haydn symphony for his prom from fifth to the sixth of the ‘London’ symphonies – 98 in B-Flat Major. It opened with somewhat portentous solemnity - with sagging cadences and odd funkiness with dotted rhythms anticipating start of the Exposition. Tutti were simply big-band here with heavy buildup to second half of the Exposition and sloughed off series of turns toward closing same section with quasi-period clipping of Haydn’s rhythms therein too just mixed right in. Welser-Most managed to tighten ensemble for the mostly fugato development section, but then while into the recapitulation punched already stuffy accents. Welser-Most, like many others before, missed the humor of horns underpinning final return of the opening statement – consistent with so much else missed as well.

Curiously sloughed off too was the opening of quite Andante like Adagio to follow. Triplets, for purpose of getting them light, quickly lost shape. As a result, the sublime lyrical second subject opened tentatively and then continued with weakly conceived consequents within continuing line. Violins were a little too much louder than lower instruments carrying theme beneath into the Development, resulting in disproportionate balances. Restatement of opening lines was casual, flabby, over straight line through stately octaves in cellos. Horns benevolently assisted violins with shaping the second theme, as though VPO strings should ever be in need of any props – found here working way toward precious closing they gave one of the noblest of Haydn slow movements – composed just after news arriving of the passing of neighboring younger genius.

Third movement minuet was taken impatiently fast - period clippings and hiccoughs paprika’d in, I suppose, to spice Haydn up a bit. Haydn however caught up with Welser-Most in tripping him up at his own game right before the first double bar. Single beat timpani announcement of arriving at last cadence in the minuet, with Welser-Most, before catching himself, made for epitome of incurable over-emphasis at this one fine, exquisite moment. Welser-Most had also just brushed off due emphasis on the interesting harmonic changes that happen in the Development (of the Minuet). VPO principal bassoon understands phrasing for the trio section, obviously better than did Welser-Most here. Welser-Most steamrolled his way through interjecting string octaves and then hit return of Minuet more loudly, more vulgar than sufficed two minutes earlier.

Welser-Most characterized well both main themes in Exposition of the rollicking finale, while clipping phrase endings to the first of these; he also in-between got more interested in grace-note offbeat octaves in brass than in the carrying line above. Repeat of Exposition became more vulgar instead of less. A VPO concertmaster led Development heavily, and then imitated Welser-Most to perfection on how to badly phrase the first subject. Light, jangling fortepiano matched awkwardly with all the rest - with final descending runs getting steamrolled.

The Schubert ‘Great’, seemingly so in length here more than in anything else, even at moderate tempos and overall reasonable length, started off stolid with mater-of-fact straight line through principal horn solo, which cellos fortunately responded to better than they heard. Lower brass entered Brucknerian in weight, mildly inconsistent with finer limning of what had just transpired. After only a slight accelerando, the Exposition opened with heavy jaunt to it. Ensemble turned tentative for bridge theme, with just passable attempt to give this passage some lift. Certainty with placement of accents then began to drift, out of which bulge developed toward final cadence thud and lumpy accenting into the Development. By time of re-transition, one had enough flab hanging out to remind one of Celi - with lean, refined looking Welser-Most on podium instead. Command of the beat got lost, only to be almost apoplectically regained a moment later, during bridge, after inconsistently light step to open the Recap. Speed-up in sequencing brass for the coda was scherzo-esque, layered on, helping anticipate heavy clipping of final excitable return of opening horn call.

Welser-Most’s continuation of liking his Schubert practically almost two different ways at once, even switching ways at times midway through phrases persisted through first two-thirds of a slightly breezy, glib Andante con moto. This continued so before insisting on more focus to proceedings for most all that proceeded from sturm und drang climax to this - just adequate here - with straight pitch trumpets drowning out more important end of line at cadence at this nodal point. Intonation issues from within the VPO had already begun to become apparent. Nevertheless, after soggy attacks and flat-line phrasing, Welser-Most got things more focused, flexibly back on track well before close to this - feature of these last five minutes missed most of what would then come.

A lumpy, stodgy rendition of the Scherzo followed. Opening wind chord failed altogether to speak over accompaniment at one point of reprise during the trio section. Inability to resist going for making something epic every time out of steady, ascending rush up quasi-stretto sixteenths in heavily octave doubled strings was also characteristic - each time the lissome second theme would be on verge of making arrival. Idiomatic gentle soft grass down accenting and line for the second theme was followed by increasingly jerky swing and sway to alternating ascending, descending half and quarter chordal notes. All repeats were taken, which had me remind myself of endless Scherzo in a 1991 Houston Eschenbach Schubert Ninth that had me scrawl down a note to friend about Alfonso and Estrella having had a few and thus having started singing for far too long (after which we joined each other in muffled laughter as the music played on). Same applied here. ‘Alfonso and Estrella’ made visitation on this Schubert Ninth as well.

Disorganization, stodginess persisted infamously into the finale, as it had on mentioned local occasion as well. I actually attended a much better Schubert Ninth with lesser orchestra here three years earlier than Eschenbach’s under Michael Gielen.

Recapitulation, starting momentarily in this movement in E-Flat, had a late-Celi(bedache) sag and wiggle to it - quite funny, humorous in fact. Rhythms, accents were crude, phlegmatically conceived throughout. Strings of the VPO did their valiant best to hold on through this – no casual feat on their part - but it became obvious that fatigue was setting in, with woodwinds sounding a bit whiny, wheezy before end of scherzo. Transition into the coda was good, making one hope for some restraint from the podium; alas, things less than a minute later turned into the usual shouting contest one might expect of orchestras among second or third tier –and whoever conducting them. Violins held on, reminding us that this was still the Vienna Philharmonic, but as part of progress to all this ending in numerous loud thuds, through final chord. Frankly, I do not know how they still maintained sounding like even modern-day Vienna to the end; fortunately they sounded more similar to their former selves under Mehta the following evening.

Passacaglias are not quite Zubin Mehta’s strong suit, but his flexible command of same forces as above guaranteed acceptable performances of both the Webern and finale to Brahms Fourth book-ending this program. A little sag to flute obbligato during first variation of the Webern so early hinted at somewhat uncertain conception of this music, but as anticipating anything to fear that fortunately went partly unfounded. Control of dynamics was good, violins supple and not quite dripping with melos, but internal rhythm through early marking of ‘belebend’ became bland - with contrast in dynamics during fifth variation also undercut. A gently broad treatment, alert to colors to be able to deftly draw from the Vienna Philharmonic, characterized most of the Webern, so if one wanted more interpretative specificity and sharper formal demarcation lines drawn, one had to look elsewhere. It was also clear here that both Mehta and the VPO had been around the block on this piece a few times before and thus had credibly opened their prom together with this piece. Transition out of lightly gilded lyrical episode in D Major was circumspect, though starting with slightly questionable tuning from high strings; concertmaster solo later emerged sweet as fully expected, idiomatically so

Zubin Mehta’s suave way with the Vienna Philharmonic benefited him more with the Strauss, here the tone poem “Don Quixote.” The guileless innocence with which Strauss starts out was caught close to perfection; even if Mehta got a bit stodgy with two or three heavier passages later on, his doing so did not remove much from the rest of what he and the VPO accomplished here. Transitions through the Introduction – before soloists enter – were handled with light hand and aplomb, including through passage for gaggle of militaristic sounding trumpets. The supple ardor with which the strings followed this was, as expected, further reassuring. Muted horns, with great sense of parody, were pungently bucolic; the threat of some menace intruding upon things right before solo entrances got conveyed as broadly as would suit matters just fine.

Principal cellist Tamas Varga entered with ruddy tone and profile, finding more rounded tone and warmth for both affectionate lines that follow and easy exchange with the Sancho Panza of principal viola (Christian Frohn). Very well played duet between basset horn and tenor tuba disarmingly gave off a fine bucolic old-world regality to its affectation. Quixote was found tossed off his horse in quicksilver reaction to horse taking fright - all lightly, incisively put - at the windmills. Shepherds’ calling out to sheep - with the variety of noises sheep make - Mehta gently goaded to graphically make very colorful case for the second variation, thus the fright they take while under attack certainly sounded palpable and so raucous to indeed be sheep. Alternating chant and chatter of Virgin statue carrying priests, two variations later was equally onomatopoeic, full of most incisive parody and wit.

Christian Frohn’s playing of Sancho Panza, on viola, played acting into his part jquite well, with despondent reaction after two disasters so far for his Lord, and then complete gain or restoration of confident air and poise. Such poise framed so well the Don’s expansive rhapsodizing over Dulcinea - so warmly put across here. Varga played the deeply pensive fifth variation with increasingly probing, broadly paced introspection. This passage may have somewhat marked a turning point for Mehta and his approach to the tone poem, in that this music took on a heavier, self-conscious air, even through dramatically etched portrait of the Don attempting flight through the air (Variation 7) - lavishly evoked here. Much was also made very characterful of the pungent drops of water dripping from clothes and gristle of the Don and Pancha’s chins as they recuperated from the sinking boat incident. Rustically played basset horn quote in full relief of Sancho Panza tune heard earlier returned things to perspective; the finale with twilit atmospheric hues and evocation of hero at peace eloquently held sway to the end.

Here was Strauss that did not attempt plumbing any philosophical depths with it as may have, so accomplished at it, the Luisi Alpine or Nott Zarathustra during earlier weeks. Even though noisy streams can run a bit shallow in Mehta’s Strauss, his way with it here at least bespoke good success, long experience with this music and won from the VPO a response of generous warmth and flexibility. The VPO made fine show of their suave virtuosity and moreover of strong, unaffected wit that pepper a good number of passages of arguably Strauss’s finest tone poem. Quite inarguably, it represents Strauss at his most humane and affecting as well.

With subtly weighted accents, Mehta started the Brahms Fourth Symphony as supple, lissome, and poetic as he promised in interview, bringing out the wistful, autumnal colors of this music - so very well vocalized too. We were already clearly at outset of the finest performance of orchestral Brahms for the entire festival, among three given this year. Several flaccid accents getting into bridge section of the Exposition momentarily slight inattention. Once the violins began their long arched line through this, Mehta’s shaping, with tiny break between A and G high up gave perfect shape and elasticity to much effortless legato playing in his employ. Woodwinds emanated a softly glowing fine shape through the second theme preparing a well-gauged climax at end of section if slightly holding back more excitable anticipation thereof. Mehta’s grip on rhythmic shape continued both flexible and secure, working in gradual buildup to still much ahead.

Flexibly molded line through G-sharp Minor duet of clarinets emanated fine melancholy thus it strongly framed re-transition to follow. The Recapitulation then emerged in fine relief, anticipating buildup of mood through it so atmospheric and ominous at once. Without elucidating great command of intellect in approaching Brahms, Mehta clearly proportioned coda to the first movement, bringing it to a fine, well churned up conclusion.

Mehta’s start to ‘Andante sostenuto’ elicited well honed mix of solemnity and supple line. Contrast between violins’ ascending line and pizzicato underneath continued to reveal very supple command of all at stake here. Minor issues with achieving complete finesse here emerged intermittently. After what had been heard the previous night from the VPO - with projected accenting then - anyone would’ve had to be churlish to complain about this Brahms. Strings achieved fine sinew to their lines through agitation to follow, even if with violins a bit heavily approaching their singing out of a few lines. Often ominous episode in coda was played light, wistful without it becoming bland, Mehta saving more ominous accents for the rich shaping, strong framing he gave ending phrases here.

Sense of occasion increased with festive, robust rendition of the scherzo, with fine spring to its rhythms, only bringing out flutes slightly too incisively at one point. Even late in the day here, Mehta still found more than sufficient lightness for reprise of the second theme that instead can get so jerked around by those less prudent at it. Luftpausen’d stretto toward the very end of the scherzo did not weigh things down. Contrast in color between sunny flutes and dark, burnished brass informed a well guaged re-transition at halfway point and calibration of both rhythmic spring and trenchant quality to partly ominous triplets building up to a practically, naturally bursting at seams conclusion.

Unqualified success with this Brahms Fourth ended with the scherzo, but some measure of success still persisted through the finale. Even so, the passcaglia got off to a start a little off-kilter that took wind concertato through third variation to restore equilibrium. Mehta intermittently cut excessive slack two other places before an otherwise very well prepared ideally wistful, tragic flute solo. Keeping bathos at bay as well, horns intoned their lines with fine depth and nobility. Mehta risked losing focus at end of reprise of the main theme, coming off this; beautifully gauged string tremoli quickly intruded to keep things well and alive. Mehta won on allowing, risking some slack for following agitated stretto variations, finding also incisively Mendelssohnian lightness in concertato triplets from VPO winds. It was only during the coda that Mehta mildly suffered loss of focus, even while building a satisfyingly tragic conclusion to this.

Coming off very musical, if not most profound way with E Minor Brahms, now being played on tour through Japan with stops in Seoul and Shanghai, Mehta and the VPO exuded - instead of streamlined breathless punch - out of Lightfoot and Tritsch-tratsch by Hellmesberger and Strauss, a far more irresistible obviously infectious joy in playing them - irresistibly Vienniese – such as I did not know Mehta could incite so well. It provided fine reason to bring all in attendance to their feet. After what sounded worse-than-most the night before – no pandering attempted toward the Brits here – the moment for such exhilaration had indeed arrived.

BBC Proms 2009 - Proms 56 and 59 - Luisi/Stk Dresden and Zinman/Zurich Tonhalle

Prom 56. Staatskapelle Dresden, Fabio Luisi. Lang Lang. Royal Albert Hall, London. August 27, 2009.

A most auspicious debut at the Proms and much inauspicious return to the Proms are topic here.

First off for Fabio Luisi and Staatskapelle Dresden was ‘traces’ by Berlin based British composer Rebecca Saunders, protégé for a short while before of Wolfgang Rihm in Karlsruhe. This was a study, sixteen minutes long, in sonorities, with minute adjustments to their pitch, dynamic, level of interactive response with other occurring strands. They so interact as to communicate as such, comparable in her thinking to vaguely alluded to text by Samuel Beckett and Italo Calvino, but moreover perhaps in their vague to quite metaphorical simulation of occurrences in nature. Luisi and his forces attended to task at hand with optimum care and precision. This would certainly call for repeat listening, as for what allusions one will pick up that might get missed the first time.

Interruptions of long held pitches, harmonics, overtones, what have you, by an isolated accent in percussion might be such to even recall the brief Ohio Impromptu of Beckett. It would be hard however to find any other specific allusions than that – not to risk getting insipid here. Needless to say and in manner that even gives impression of being even virulently fluid, this music does however speak, even in what a great extent allusive elements thereof are distilled to their very essence. As such, one will then hear them in this piece echo each other, overlap, oscillate around each other, with gaps suggesting that they far beneath the surface inaudibly continue to do so. That there was something to be gained from having programmed this became evident especially in the Strauss that followed later that had qualities brought out here, but thereby missed in performances lately of Mahler (see below), Tchaikovsky, and others. Brief, but fully reflective postlude followed a longer central movement, chock full of violent eruptions and feedback from them of varying focus, intensity, and scope, following five minutes of mostly calm six minute ‘exposition’ of a first movement.

Arresting about the Chopin right away was the first orchestral ritornello or actually exposition – how it got played here. One usually hears this music as too fully written out for the strings; Luisi kept ensemble tight and brought out colors and interaction from winds, with very fine command of rhythm and frame, that so much life was then breathed into passage and others that often land like a dull thud. At times if risk of taking such an approach is employed, it would then possibly make this music seem anemic instead, but not here. A possibly quick study with all this at the keyboard was someone for whom I have not expressed much admiration in the past – Lang Lang, in some of the best playing I have heard yet from him. He spoke in interview, as though fully convinced of what he was saying, about the operatic bel canto link (and passion) in Chopin’s piano writing; such did often emerge here most effectively.

There were still a few octaves and such that especially low were handled in such a way as to not quite ideally bring out their resonance – and those places, especially in filigree, where Lang Lang felt compelled to excessively gild or dovetail things. Subtle command of the French rhythm in playing Chopin is not quite there, but even so it is refreshing to hear what will hopefully grow some greater subtlety in his approach to Chopin, and thus that the broad brush thus far so common in Lang Lang’s playing and touch can start being put away at last. Speaking of command of French rhythm, one is led to think of how much it has been missed in half of the performances of Stravinsky ballets this summer (Volkov, Gardner, Karabits notable exceptions) and in dull Falla and Ravel the other night from Philharmonia and Salonen. There was fulsomely unaffected noble, introspective sculpting of Chopin’s melodies, to lead one to consider having underestimated Lang Lang's abilities and potential to further develop them.

The finale opened with mostly well sprung caprice, but including just playfully going over the top in clipping a bit ‘Oriental’- not especially Chopinesque – a few accented notes, light octaves up high. Bravura flourish, dauntless chord sequence arpeggios, in both outer movements tended most to ring true, as did a good share of the poetic rhetoric for middle placed ‘nocturne’ in the concerto. Lang Lang had in Luisi a superior accompanist and collaborator for precisely what he needed here – for encouraging what could be at last some emerging artistry from Lang Lang.

With no effort whatsoever, light so gradually emerged from darkness at the start of ‘Alpine Symphony’ by Strauss, as almost uncanny. One might have expected to get a little underlining of descending B-Flat Minor scales, but none was forthcoming. Once to ‘Sunrise’, the texture at this point was trumpet dominated, but with strings still emerging as clearly heard and in tune just slightly above, and with both at once clear direction to the line and full texture shot through with light – to scintillating effect. It was with such that Luisi and Stk Dresden, with cellos and basses’ lean take on Ascent embarked us not only on a hike up the mountain and back down, but one that took us deeper than this, as to the recesses of one’s own soul or being and how interaction with the natural world can live within most of all. This all happened without mysticism applied to this score from without – as for instance seems at times the case with early 1980’s Karajan concerts and disc – but as to be found solely from within. The opera “Frau ohne schatten” that Strauss wrote quite simultaneously with ‘Alpine’ I have already cited here.

‘Alpine Symphony’ is a score ornate with detail to practically hyper-Baroque proportions, - such detail that even the best orchestra in the world today might not be able to fully encompass – with moments too in this that are clearly over-scored. Without calling attention to anything but the music itself and what woven messages it may want to convey, the discipline of the Dresden forces and of Luisi’s interpretative acumen in taking so much on was highly exemplary.

The discipline with which this was all carried out was hardly at all the point. Transition through shadowy forest to clear and more airy scene by the brook proceeded in all a supple manner without any of this becoming slick or detached thus - with breezy, just slightly flagrantly garish downward chordal sequences in enhanced violins filling in perspective, suggesting first encounter with high elevations. Space was beautifully calibrated on meadow pasture for shepherd’s calls, clanking bells, and noise of sheep to all bucolically be heard in most natural and mysteriously engaging perspective. The almost bejeweled flooding ‘Dresden china’ waterfalls sounded arresting in their overlapping harmonies incurred in shadows hanging off them - all with great simplicity, sense of naivete.

Mozartean grace with sumptuous Flowery Meadows complemented the supple brooding eloquence with which Luisi so infused the reflective Elegy not long before Storm below; it also contrasted with prickly brass dissonances and caprice in winds for ‘Lost in Thickets.’ Luisi avoided all coyness as in dovetailing effects a la Disney. Calibrated so effectively, angry brass just started to crowd out tensile strings ‘on the Glacier.’ A little similarly found ensconced in thick underbrush were animatedly descending triplets through ‘Precarious moments’, suggesting in nature of the writing, a taking off in flight from one contrasting sphere to another - as for instance as taken on by malevolent Nurse in “Frau ohne schatten.” Luisi handled with great finesse the tricky transitional material to immediately follow that, amidst an atmosphere losing stability by the minute.

Luisi had his strings practically inebriated in response to heroic brass at C Major attaining of the summit, fulfilling tight scaling of it right beforehand. Lighter episode of thrown about shadows and light in “Vision” hinted at so airy a state as found during the peaceful closing pages of “Frau.” With fine, well calibrated preparation of all to follow, ‘Storm’ made a vehement impact while allowing in very telling shafts of light. In so heroically scaling the heights afterwards, Luisi may have been able to allow strings a little more space on upward scaling melismas; once attaining the crest of enormously extended and elaborate line, he had his strings playing as though possessed. It was with regret but no hint of bathos that things gently sank through organ benediction to somber depths from which all first arose, here near foot of the mountain past nightfall, or as though near end of life or on verge of a very long, deep sleep.

One had here not just the sensation of a great hike up the mountain - taking in so many sights - but as enhanced by such thoroughly idiomatic playing from Dresden, a much more encompassing experience. In Houston, we needed videos to enhance our ‘Alpine’, but definitely not here. With often lean, well sculpted lines throughout sections and internal nuance with color, sonority this in hindsight made the Saunders at outset seem entirely relevant by end of evening.

Had such Strauss from Luisi had been heard by more people here, the Met (New York) would not have scrapped ‘Frau ohne schatten’ from this coming season, in the great Herbert Wernicke production they own - so richly deserving of high definition exposure in our cinemas. Though Luisi will presumably conduct other Strauss instead there the coming two seasons, the Met still has greatly erred. One can only envy anybody so fortunate to have attended this - especially when it opened under Thielemann seven years ago.


Prom 59. Zurich Tonhalle Orchestra, David Zinman. Dawn Upshaw. Royal Albert Hall, London. August 29, 2009.



It was, after the Luisi, to come too far down to hear next prom or two coming so hard on its heels as they did. Mahler encountered earlier this proms has included a Ninth of great feeling and expression, though with mild tendency toward lugubrious at times, and an arched, angular Sixth that, though fiery in doing so, risked leaving perception of it two-dimensional. Nothing even so interesting as all this occurred here, though it goes without saying too that we had just had 'Alpine.'

In the name of ‘period’ perhaps, awkward, arbitrarily ham-fisted negotiation of the somber opening – here then too somber – opening of Schubert’s Rosamunde Overture got things off to a clunky start. Zurich Tonhalle wind principals delivered fine uncoached feeling, sentiment for their lines, but over unyielding goading from strings and podium. Strict handling of ritornellos in bridge from first theme to second during both halves of the body of the overture emerged almost as cross between pep rally and Biedermeier – with dry downbeats – noticed second time around – pseudo-enhanced by little swells on each of them. Other handling of thematic material was mostly adequate to coy; handling of ascending triplets in lower strings in the coda to this was so clumsy as to suggest full engagement in American vernacular to, anymore, hardly unexpected lengths - plenty vulgar for piece in question.

Poor man’s Berio followed in form of a set of Oswaldo Golijov transcriptions of four Schubert songs, as sung affectionately in good voice by Dawn Upshaw, with appropriately solemn opening to Wandrers Nachtlied, but with wonky diction and nuance of such – such as detached on repeat of the word ‘Schweigen.’ Exotic water-coloring of accompaniments came across as merely generic, insipid – nothing of real interest or persuasion. Before scooping the opening of ‘Nacht und Traume,’ “Das sie hier gewesen’, namesake of the arranged song cycle here, dragged on to exotically pretty but too saccharine filled length. Sentiment being too layered onto the surface of things and excessive breaks in line made the last two songs here seem to drag on to nearly twelve minutes, while in at just slightly over eight.

Such meager quality in being able to sustain line and avoid layering on, tweaking of the music for what could not be felt through and through excessively infused as well the Mahler Fourth Symphony. What point of view of the piece as given here remained unclear or completely vague. Such was true, other than at times to somewhat inflexibly and too carefully transcribe into sound Mahler’s instructions in the score, that is, while capable of staying faithful to them. Ritornello right before second theme and intrusions in on closing theme were strict to extent of denying each their sense of bucolic merriment, as though Zinman to be good at his Mahler, sophistication at it should be one distance removed from such considerations. Massage of close to first theme reprise ending to Exposition did not help matters, but horn solo for once was fine after ignored crescendo in concertmaster solo starting the Development section. String section negotiation of contrapuntal writing and of transitions therein vacillated between being too stiff and downright sloppy. Trumpet call preview of Mahler 5 segueing the recap, through alternatively clipping it and letting the line sag towards end lost all its shape - following enormous thud on timpani

Zinman unintentionally infused more parody into Mahler than already exists by having horns play more loudly their obbligato than line in the strings during recap of first theme. Even the French horn solo at the very close of the first movement barely rescued feeling from having altogether become too sniffy, precious at this point. There was achieved decent character from solos during the macabre scherzo, not lightly enough macabre to be disquieting really - with it slightly arbitrary whether to underline places therein or just have his Zurich forces just read through them. Display of how Zurich double-basses can play assigned increasingly wide interval glissandi was good but just seemed mostly to serve that purpose alone.

Pacing, structural grasp of the Adagio (‘Ruhevoll’) here was fairly solid and expressive limning of alternatively radiant and anguished lines in this pointed well numerous times. It all carried on however in manner of muzak right before the opening of the gates of paradise – opened by very awkwardly broken end of upbeat prepared downbeat. Line connecting episodes of the Adagio though tended to plod; negotiation of those episodes of sudden change of tempo to much faster, for sake of parody, seemed too careful by half. First-stand woodwinds provided most expressive relief for this in what otherwise for slack in the line seemed mildly slower pace than usual, but hardly was at all.

For greater attention to diction and infusing so many lines with childlike wonder, Dawn Upshaw sounded considerably more at home with the finale to the Mahler than with contrivance on program for first half of this concert. Her understanding of parody in Mahler in a way upstaged that of David Zinman a couple of different times here – element of such so understated earlier. Zinman showed up to be on same page with Upshaw on introspective modal harmonized interludes during this movement and gently undulating, just almost stumbling pace to the opening of the movement, as should be. Upshaw only overcooked things in beginning last stanza of the finale in too much the childlike manner; at this point, we have in Mahler the adult’s view of the child’s vision of ‘himmlische leben’, as music indicates here; what joy and spring she brought to ‘tanzen and springen’ and so much dance and parody with all the rest.

If, as an aside here, Royal Albert Hall reverb had perhaps been a bit thick for moments of Strauss’s Alpine Symphony, Zinman left more than room enough in his negotiation of textures of the Mahler, in that they are already better economized than in the Strauss; it was however the Strauss that became fully memorable this past week.