Prima la musica, poi le parole

Spent

Wo bin ich? Ist's Fantasie, dass ich noch lebe?

Quote courtesy of last week's broadcast; sentiment courtesy of this afternoon's - Die Walküre.
I'm done for. Five hours in a dark room with Wagner on headphones. I'm even now still re-adjusting to the outside world. Even interruptions by the Met quiz and the singers' roundtable (hosted by Voice From Home, Sarah Billinghurst) couldn't really bring me down to earth. I lost track of time. No clocks, and no knowledge of the music to tell me even roughly where I was. I didn't know it was about to end until - it ended. All I wonder is where the Wagner addicts, the people who travel the world in pursuit of Ring cycles, find the emotional reserves to cope. I don't think I could. But then, it is addictive. Given the chance, I'd quite happily have sat through the whole thing again after it finished at 8 tonight. Didn't seem like five hours anyway. Wish it had been longer. Truly. Such music. For once I can offer you absolutely no meaningful comment on the singers because I didn't hear them, only the music itself. This is mindbending stuff. Need...more...but not quite yet. Still feeling a little fragile. I'm recovering with very subdued Bach etc., which is about all I feel up to. The door which Tannhäuser pushed half-open has been blown off its hinges tonight.

That meme

Mezzogregory has passed the music meme baton to me, and I'm only too happy to oblige. Memes, so they say, are for fifteen year old girls. Well it's not that long since I was a fifteen year old girl, so I can participate guilt-free. Here goes.

Total volume of music on your computer?

2.98GB. Which isn't much apparently. And that's everything - not just opera but also Marlene, Judy, Dusty, Petula, Ella, Catherine Deneuve et al. Most of my CDs remain as CDs - the music on my computer was acquired by other means.

Last CD you bought?

The last two CDs I bought came together via Trademe: a Nozze di Figaro highlights disc with Karita Mattila, Marie McLaughlin, Lucio Gallo and others, conducted by Zubin Mehta; and Opera Pieces, a CD by Simon O'Neill and Ursula Allan, who were Victoria University's Tower Opera Scholars. It's, shall we say, underwhelming. However even more recently I picked up a stack of LPs at the Regent Theatre's 24 Hour 2nd hand book sale:
Marian Anderson, Songs at Eventide; Kathleen Ferrier, Songs of the British Isles; Leontyne Price, Christmas Songs; Des Knaben Wunderhorn with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf & Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau; Beverly Sills in Traviata; Joan Sutherland Sings Handel; and a Carmen starring Amazing Grace. Now I really must get the record player fixed...

Song currently playing?

'O, jag' dem Glück nicht nach' from Kalman's Die Csardasfürstin. I bought this in Auckland in April and still haven't heard it all the way through. But it came with a sticker on the cover which really ought to be attached to my heart as well -

She's so good...and so bad for me...

Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me?

"Mesiku na nebi hlubokem", Rusalka's Song to the Moon, performed by Lucia Popp. Lucia occupies a very special place in my heart. Beyond criticism, beyond fleeting fixations, beyond words. My love for Lucia is unconditional, and I listen to her as I listen to no other singer. Nobody has been more important in the formation of my devotion to opera. And when she sings this aria the world stops.

"Dear Mr Gable (You Made Me Love You)", performed by Judy Garland. The beauty and talent of this woman will never be equalled. I could have chosen any song. But it's all there in this one: the humour, the sensitivity, the vulnerability and above all, the incredible voice. (Plus, I can recite the spoken section by heart. My one and only talent.)

"Baby Now That I've Found You", performed by Alison Krauss. Alison is the only living, working, non-classical singer to inspire true devotion in me. Straight from heaven. She is sublime. This is the title track of the CD which introduced me to Alison many many years ago. You cannot hear it and fail to fall in love with her.

"Beim Schlafengehen", from Richard Strauss' Vier Letzte Lieder. Performed by n'importe qui. Just looking at the music for it is almost enough.

"Mach dich, mein Herze, rein" from Bach's St. Matthew Passion. Shattering, and perfect.

Five people to whom I'm passing the baton?

I fear I'm just setting myself up to be ignored, but... Joanna, Victoria, Patty, Rich Russell, and any of the blogless who'd care to leave their responses in the comments!

Just briefly..

Have I missed something? I keep getting Google referrals this week for 'anna+netrebko+pregnant'. She's not is she? She hasn't done a Magdalena and run away with.... James Levine? Whether she is or not - does this mean her fans are growing up? More people searching for 'anna netrebko pregnant' that 'anna netrebko naked pictures' - it's intriguing. (Actually, no it's not.)

Something genuinely intriguing is Kinderkuchen for the FBI. Excellent title, don't you think. Maintained by a Dr. Barbara Baker, this is an opera blog whose existence has, mysteriously enough, entirely escaped my notice - and I've never seen it on anyone else's blogroll either for that matter. But I stumbled across it a few days ago and I like it a lot. She knows what she's talking about (her doctorate is in music) and she's truly a pleasure to read. And she gets bonus points for 1. blogging about Cecilia and 2. feeling as I do about her!

(Incidentally, Anna Netrebko isn't the only one people come here looking for nude pictures of. I've also had 'barbara bonney nude pictures', 'karita mattila AND bath OR bagno OR badewanne' and even  'maria ewing AND naked OR nude OR nudity OR nakedness')

I haven't yet mentioned Offenbach's Robinson Crusoe. I borrowed it from the library the other week and had to return it today, having listened to it exactly once. But I would like to hear it again, even to own it. It's gorgeous! Very very silly, to be sure. Robinson sets off exploring and end up on his island, only to be followed there by his friends, family and serving staff. But it's fun, and it's Offenbach, so the tunes are great. The set I borrowed is a 1980 Opera Rara release, and it's still the only one out there - and likely to remain so now, I should think. This is a little bit of a shame, simply because the Opera Rara recording is an English translation - it would probably be nice if it were available in the original French. But believe it or not, this really is a minor concern. The translation is excellent - I think. I mean, I have of course no idea of the original text, apart from 'Conduisez-moi vers celui que j'adore', the closest thing Crusoe has to a hit aria. But as I listened to it, I kept forgetting it was a translation, which surely is a positive thing. It's the same with translated books - some read like translations, some just read like novels, and its the latter that really work. It's probably helped by the fact that the story itself is English - so the more English it sounds the better. And the singing ain't bad either. I can't remember who was who now that I've returned it to the library, but it's a very strong cast. And shining brightest among them is, of course, a 29 year old Yvonne Kenny, just five years after her sensational international début (Rosmonda d'Inghilterra at four days notice.) She's exquisite. In a particularly easy-going mood, I might be convinced to concede that aspects of the mature Yvonne's singing could be an acquired taste (acquire it!) - but on this recording she's absolutely, gloriously in her prime and I refuse to believe anybody could be anything other than enraptured by her. So there. Hear it if you get the chance.

I've watched my Don Giovanni DVD twice this week. It's been interesting, and a bit of a revelation. Because when I got it, I got it for Cecilia. And when I watched it the first time, whenever that was, I watched it for Cecilia. I didn't notice a great deal about the other singers - terrible, yes, but true. This time around, it's different. Rodney Gilfry struck me from the first as a charismatic singer, but I'm only now realising how charismatic. As I said the other day - he's dangerous. Of course all these women were tempted! How could they be anything but? Also, for obvious reasons I'm particularly interested in Donna Anna right now - and I must say, I think Isabel Rey is just great. But what on earth was my lovely Nikolaus Harnoncourt thinking with the tempo for 'Mi tradi'? Much much too slow. Cecilia does her best to keep it going, but dear me. What's the point of Elvira's 'Che contrasto d'affetti' if we can't hear some of that from the orchestra?

I've decided to go into Sunday's Die Walküre broadcast cold. I already know 'Du bist der Lenz' and 'Der Männer Sippe' from Deborah Voigt's Obsessions. The latter sent shivers down my spine on an already freezing cold day this week when it turned up on my MP3 player. And the adorable Kirsten Flagstad introduced me to 'Hojotoho' on the Golden Voices of the Century video. That's it though. That and what I've learnt from Anna Russell. Can't wait.

Amadeus amato

Listening to Die Zauberflöte on radio, knowing it's the Julie Taymor production and hearing the riotous laughter in the audience - as you might imagine, it's a little frustrating. From articles I've read, and from Margaret Juntwait's introductions, I did sometimes have a vague idea of what was happening on stage to cause such hilarity, but obviously it's nothing like being there. Oh well. Never mind. At least it sounded fantastic.

Kurt Moll! I love Kurt Moll. He's the Sarastro on the Deutsche Grammophon video of Zauberflöte too, and I adore him. Low notes you can feel. And absolute security. No irritating wobbles for Herr Moll - you feel safe in his company. Perfect for Sarastro, of course. I'd trust him, no question. And all the rest were in fine form also. Matthew Polenzani made an excellent, attractive Tamino and Matthias Goerne an irresistible Papageno (though that's not hard) - and Rene Pape made me wish the Speaker was a much bigger role. Lucia Popp has naturally spoiled me for every single other Königin derNacht - but Erika Miklosa was respectable enough, negotiating the coloratura nicely if not spectacularly - although I did feel she sounded a little too cute and friendly. Lisa Milne, on the other hand, was a perfect Pamina, sweet and silvery. Just when I thought I'd heard 'Ach ich fühl's' too many times for it to get to me...along came Lisa to prove me wrong.

Maybe not seeing it doesn't matter so much after all; just hearing it made me very happy.

Meanwhile my efforts to get Don Giovanni under my skin are going very well indeed. I listened again the Solti this afternoon, in the three hours before Zauberflöte started. My opinion of it hasn't improved much, sadly. Actually I was even less impressed with Renée this time round. I did, on the other hand, feel slightly happier with Bryn: I'd still prefer a suaver Don, but it is inescapably a terribly beautiful voice. Rodney Gilfry, on the other hand, is ideal in the part. Having obviously not had enough yet, I'm watching him on this excellent DVD and he's just dangerous.

(In other news, Il Caro Fanatico reads my mind and asks a vital question. Check out the Surfeit of Goddesses photo while you're there.)

'Autumn Tones'

Anton Bruckner, j'accuse! Oh sure, your Te Deum's very nice. But don't you think a BIG alto solo would make it even nicer? No? Well that's a shame.

Yes, we had Bruckner's Te Deum at Knox Church last night, part of a concert called 'Autumn Tones' (I didn't hear the autumn tones, but maybe that's just me). And it was fine. I mean, my heart's still in the 18th century (or earlier) when it comes to sacred music, but things like this have their appeal too. The City of Dunedin choir was sounding very good, as ever. Although I did feel sorry for them, packed into a space half as small (if not smaller) than they have for their Town Hall gigs. And sitting in the front row as I was, I did feel a little close for comfort at times. But nevertheless, excellent choir, etc. etc.

You know me though, and you know I was there for the soloists. And such a lineup: Goeknil Meryem Biner (soprano), Brigitte Heuser (alto), Stephen Chambers (tenor) & Michael Gray (bass). The tenor gets plenty to sing, and I'm happy to say this is some of the best singing I've heard from Stephen lately. Perhaps it was because he had to make himself heard over choir and orchestra, not just a piano, but for once it seemed that there was some fire in that voice - it wasn't just nice singing, but interesting singing. Very nice to hear. As for Michael, all I can say is: wow. I thought perhaps the bass was going to be as slighted as the alto in terms of a proper solo, but thankfully he wasn't, and Michael was quite incredible. What of the girls? I wasn't, I have to say, particularly impressed by our soprano, Goeknil Meryem Biner. Ever since her too-brief appearance in Anthony Ritchie's The God Boy last year, I've been wanting to hear more from her, to get a proper sense of the voice: but I think (or hope) that this wasn't the right occasion. It wasn't that she made a bad sound - far from it - but it just seemed the wrong sound, somehow. Too much vibrato, and just plain too loud. Maybe it was the acoustic. I don't know. But when the soloists all sang together, it was inevitably her voice which pushed its way to the front - and although I'd never heard the piece before last night, I've a feeling that's not quite the way it ought to sound. Besides which, she kept just about drowning out our fabulous alto! Who, unlike the other three, never once got to sing all by herself. And oh, how I wish she had. I've been longing and longing to hear Brigitte Heuser sing again, ever since last year's vocal competitions where she just blew me away. This is seriously a star mezzo in the making, and what I did hear of her last night was as delectable as I'd hoped. But it was still just a tiny tantalising taste, and I want more. In the words of the divine Maria von Trapp, "Brigitte I don't know about yet, but somebody has to find out about her." Well I'd like to find out, and soon.

So. The highlight of the concert should have been Brigitte but wasn't. Which leads us to a very surprising turn of events: the highlight of the night for me was not vocal at all, but rather the orchestral piece that started the evening. Strange enough in itself, and even more so because the piece was Douglas Lilburn's 1940 'Aotearoa Overture'. 20th century...New Zealand...orchestral music...and I loved it! Well done to the Dunedin Youth Orchestra. If only Delibes Coppélia Suite which followed had been replaced by more of this sort of thing. So much more interesting. (I wonder if taking myself to the orchestra counts for TAFTO?)

The Merry Widow

San Francisco's Opera's 2002 production of The Merry Widow, which I now own on DVD, has a problem: It's Just. Not. Funny. It is, however, gorgeous.

The sets and costumes are gorgeous. Yvonne Kenny is a stunning Hanna, irresistible from the first. Angelika Kirchschlager is a cute-as-a-button coquette. Bo Skovhus is an absolute scream, and vocally to die for. He's also an excellent actor, comic and serious. As actresses, Yvonne and Angelika make wonderful opera singers: but in their own hammy way they're as delightful as Bo. But oh dear, the dialogue they're all forced to speak leaves something to be desired. Angelika saves her dreadful lines with her unspeakably adorable lilting intonation; Bo makes the character of Danilo so convincing and appealing that it doesn't matter what he's saying; Yvonne walks in beauty like the night, and just the fact that she's speaking is enough for me - it mightn't be for others. Nobody else in the cast does a bad job either. But without this illustrious trio, they'd have had a hard - if not impossible - job keeping things going. Never mind: I bought it for Yvonne and got Bo and Angelika as a bonus. The rest is neither here not there.

And of course, there's the music, so surrounded by dialogue you might forget it was there, were it not for the fact that it's fabulous. I might have issues with the dialogue, but the singing was first rate. Corner me, and I'll admit: Yvonne's Hanna in Melbourne last December was even better sung. But that doesn't mean she's not breathtaking here. The Act I duet with Danilo, the Act II finale, the famous duet at the end (no titles because it's an English translation and I'm too lazy to find their German equivalents) - and everything else besides - it's all just heaven. Her middle register especially seems to improve with age, and there's a warm, seductively beautiful tone which just send shivers down my spine. The metal in her high notes mightn't be to everyone's tastes, but I could eat it for breakfast.

As for Bo Skovhus, let's just say that if his leading lady had been anyone else, he would quite likely have stolen the show and my heart. Fabulously dark, rich voice. Any heavier and it might have been too much, but as it was it was perfect. And he makes such an absolutely appealing Danilo: imagine an exuberant version of James Garner in Victor/Victoria. Angelika Kirchschlager's sweetly full-voiced Valencienne is no less magnificent. She spends far too much time speaking and not enough singing: but when she does sing, she's (as Lofti Mansouri says in the little documentary extra) enchanting.

The rest of the cast performs very well vocally, though there's nobody to match the three above. Gregory Turay's Camille is above average if unmemorable; the chorus gives its all to the wonderful set piece finales, and the orchestra is sparkling and exuberant. Add to this strong base the three glorious performances described above and musically, there's every reason to be happy - in this respect, if in no other, it's absolutely a success.

News from Mt Olympus

I thought it was just going to be Handel arias, but it's even better. From PlaybillArts:

"Superstar mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli says her next album, due out this fall, will focus on Baroque works that have a connection to Rome, her beloved hometown. The disc, which was recorded with conductor Marc Minkowski and the Musiciens du Louvre, includes music by Handel, Caldara, and Scarlatti that was written during a tumultuous but artistically fertile period in Rome’s history."

It simply cannot be anything but fabulous - of this I am certain.

And while we're in article mode, I was looking (in vain, as it turns out) at the Met site for the Bidu Sayao comic strip, and found this, which you simply must read. An excerpt (guess who):

"Do you know what? I bought this CD that says it is my Gioconda. It says it's me and Bergonzi! My heart is broken. It's not Bergonzi. I mean, it's not me, either. But I don't need that kind of documentation. But poor Carlo, that great tenor, and here is -- well, let me just say, somebody else, singing his role. I mean, a deaf person is going to know that isn't me, but what if somebody thinks that is Carlo? Can I sue them? I want to sue them. It isn't me! It's Martina. I have to say, put it out with her name. She was wonderful! But I want mine, too! I want vengeance!"

And finally, from Opera magazine, 1975 - Harold Rosenthal reviews a Rosmonda d'Inghilterra - and the last-minute debut of a certain Goddess:

"Janet Price, Opera Rara's regular prima donna, was ill and she was replaced in the title-role by a young Australian soprano, Yvonne Kenny, who as well as holding a degree in biochemistry, had been awarded the Kathleen Ferrier Memorial Prize. She is a natural musician, blessed with a very pretty voice and presence; and provided she is sensible should go far."

Quite.

La Deborah

I think that Deborah Wai Kapohe just about broke Marama Hall tonight. It's a smallish venue and that is one big voice. Huge. Sitting in the second row it was sometimes almost too much. But of course, never actually too much. No such thing as too much Deborah. Tonight she was singing a programme of Spanish-Orientalist songs. Gounod, Berlioz, Bizet, Saint-Saens, de Falla, Ravel, Rodrigo. Mouth watering yet? It should be. This was art song not for the faint hearted. If you were used to Sylvia McNair-style mélodies, you might have been in for a shock. But oh my, it was an experience. There was no holding back: she tore in to these songs with the most infectious passion, savouring every single moment, regardless of whether she was singing or not. She might have had a music stand in front of her, but it was easy to ignore.

After a Godowsky piano piece from the Mighty Terence Dennis, she walked on stage singing Gounod's 'Medjé'. Intense, incredible. Then a brilliant and gorgeous (if perhaps the tiniest bit too cheerful) Zaide (Berlioz). Just the decoration on 'ma belle ville' was more than worth the $5. So if the next two songs were slightly less than perfect, well, who cares? Not me. And we're speaking of a first-rate singer here: 'slightly less than perfect' can fairly be translated as 'still better than just about anybody'. Besides, if the only real issue I have is that sometimes the voice is just a bit too overwhelmingly powerful for the song, well, it's hardly a shattering criticism, is it? And so I did think that De Falla's 'Les colombes' was a bit heavy. But 'Chinoiserie' which followed was quite to die for: she doesn't just know how to sing, she knows how to tell a story, and if you spoke not a word of French, you'd still be hard pressed not to pick up on the spirit of it all. And she threw herself into 'Séguidille' with some very convincing shouts of 'Alza! Ola!'.

After the interval we had Ravel's Shéhérazade which was basically successful. As I say, the sheer power of Deborah's voice sometimes overcomes the delicacy of songs like these. But it's not a serious problem, on account of her simply superb artistry: the sound isn't always as beautiful as it might be, but it is always always meaningful. Of the three songs in the cycle, 'La flûte enchantée' was the best - the spectrum of vocal colours at this woman's disposal is quite incredible, and that ability was given full scope here. I think that in her heart, though, Deborah Wai Kapohe is a Spaniard. Her only classical CD (she also has a career as an alternative folk/rock singer) is of Spanish songs, in which she accompanies herself on classical guitar, and it's a gorgeous disc; here too she was happiest in the four Rodrigo songs. Each was an absolute gem. 'De dónde venís, amore?' was simply fabulous, and 'De los alamos vengo, madre' just the right showstopper with which to conclude the recital proper. She could quite easily have sent us all home still buzzing from that one, but her single encore made for an even better finish: Montsalvatge's 'Cancion de cuna para dormir a un negrito' was all hushed beauty and, quite simply, perfect.

Nevertheless I think Deborah can do even better than all this. It was overpowering at times, and there was the odd note which didn't quite come out as planned. It's an undeniably beautiful voice but the beauty was at times obscured by the volume and weight of the singing. Her intentions were clear but they weren't always exactly realised. It was still a brilliant evening though! Don't think that I'm saying otherwise. Above all, her affinity for this kind of music makes for the most amazingly unified recital experience. Seven composers, two languages and various settings, but the result of it was a sort of musical and cultural portrait of Spanish/Orientalist spirit - almost becoming one recital-length song cycle. She's an astonishing and always fascinating performer.

And what I really really want now is to hear her in opera. Given a nice big venue and a nice juicy role she must be unbelievable. Puccini, Verdi, that sort of meaty Italian yumminess. I'd love to hear her Mimi, her Cio-Cio San; I did hear her Alice Ford  Nannetta (I knew that!) on radio and it was quite something. More than anything, though, this recital, with its Spanish spices, dark mezzo-ish colours, and that fabulous red dress, made me think: she was born for Carmen. Surely she's sung Carmen. I don't know. But I did hear somewhere that she's singing it right here in Dunedin next year. Is this true? I don't know. I hope it's true. It would certainly be worth a great deal more than $5!

Mi lascio reggere, mi fo guidar

Well you can't say I'm not obedient.

Quoth La Vilaine (my idol) :

" Claudio Abbado's DG recording of Simon Boccanegra, starring Mirella Freni as Amelia, belongs in the collection of everyone who cares about music."

So today I found it at Disk Den and bought it. (Then got all teary just reading about MLR's tears for Mirella. Lovely Mirella.)

Next up, JSU of AUV recommends a Don Giovanni to me:

Also a mention for the greatest performance on record (maybe not the greatest recording, because of dated sound):  Walter's 1942 Met broadcast with Pinza, Kipnis, Bampton, Novotna, et al.  He blasts through the piece with unbelievable speed and energy (this is NOT the slow Walter of the 60s), and Pinza and Kipnis are stunning -- though the latter gets way off the beat in his aria.  One of the greatest records ever.

So today I found it at Real Groovy and bought it.

Next time I complain about the selection of classical music in Dunedin shops, remind me of this day.
(It's also my mother's birthday. Buon compleanno, mamma!)