Prima la musica, poi le parole

Anniversaire

                                               

Let me wish the happiest of birthdays to the incomparable vilaine fille, one blog-year old today and absolutely my blogging idol. Wouldn't (couldn't) be without you, chérie.

Bleibt im Bett, du Stadt Dunedin

As it turns out, it's a good thing that, like I said, nobody will have followed my advice and gone to Knox Church last night for the Bach. At least I dearly hope nobody did. For a start, the soprano soloist was not, as stated on the City Council Events Calendar, Alethea Chittenden, but somebody drawn from the Knox Choir - which I didn't learn until I was established in my pew, programme in hand. Not a last minute replacement: the internet ad was just plain wrong. If I'd known this from the start, I may well still have gone. Alethea (though she almost never sings) is a particular favourite of mine, but Bach is still Bach, after all. Which is what I reminded myself, despite the inevitable disappointment: Bach is Bach and can transcend performers. Well, yes, but only to a point, and it truly could have done with the professional polish Alethea would have brought. The soprano was pleasant enough but just not up to the technical demands of the two duets; but to her credit she had to contend with a baritone who was not, shall we say, in any fit state to be singing. Swaying back and forth, talking to her and to the cellist while the orchestra was playing, singing along with the chorales - never mind that he was divided from the choir by a pew and an orchestra. The second duet was a shambles; I gave up and listened to the oboist instead, who was superb. Though that was a drama in itself, judging by the snippets of conversation I heard beforehand from the orchestra: he arrived late - I think at one point there was a possibility of an oboist but no oboe. The whole presentation of the cantata was just off. Last time it was very much a mini-concert in the centre of the service, and presented as such. This time it was woven through the service, and not to any great effect. The Collegiate Orchestra did sound excellent though, and kudos to conductor Dean Hollebon for keeping everything together as much as he did. But truly, for my Sunday musical fix, I'd probably have been better off going to see Wing at Re:Fuel.

However, I did hear something quite wonderful yesterday afternoon, thanks to VivaLaVoce radio: the last two hours or so of an excellent Xerxes conducted by Nicholas McGegan. My internet connection is not the best, the quality wasn't wonderful, but it was more than worth it for this. Excellent singers, having fun and singing beautifully too. Brian Asawa was a stunning Arsamene; Judith Malafronte a very nice Xerxes, if a little rough about the edges at times. Lisa Milne's light silvery-voiced Atalanta was an utter delight. My only concern was Jennifer Smith's Romilda who sounded rather too matronly, more like a Marcellina than a sweet young thing. I already own one Xerxes, with the ultimate Romilda, so chances are that without VivaLaVoce I'd never have heard this one. Very glad I did.

Rejoice greatly, o daughter of eBay

After much nail-biting and page-refreshing this weekend - behold, thy records cometh unto thee.

A 1977 Opera Rara gala concert, Kings and Queens of England.

Donizetti's Rosmonda d'Inghilterra, recorded in Belfast, November 22nd 1975.

In the former, Yvonne Kenny in excerpts from Il Castello di Kenilworth and Maria Stuarda. Inside the box, along with the records, is a programme from the concert. And in the latter, Yvonne Kenny just a month after her smash hit London début in the same role, and just three days before her 25th birthday. When I saw these listed in the discography in the Nineteenth Century Heroines liner notes, for my own wellbeing, I accepted then and there that I would never own them. Now, it seems I shall. La vita è bella. Yvonne è ancora più bella.

Wach auf, du Stadt Dunedin

Not that anyone heeds my advice anyway when I suggest such a thing, but if you've nowhere else to be tomorrow night, might I suggest Knox Church at 7pm? A Bach cantata, BWV140, Wachet auf, you know the one. I'm, well, not a churchgoer, but I am a goer-to of Bach cantatas and would go through far more than a progressively Presbyterian sermon or two to get my ears around one. And I can promise in advance, this one will be good. I know because I've already heard it. Knox did 140 last year too, with the same soloists: baritone Iain Fraser, who on a good day sounds good (poor thing sang through a nasty cough at a lunchtime recital a while ago, and didn't come out of it very well, but I know he's far better than that) and the eternally misspelt Alethea Chittenden, far too little heard in this city (or any other). I didn't review it, but it was hearing this the first time round that prompted me to fall head-over-heels for Papa Bach. It was wunderschön then and will, I'm certain, be at least as tasty this time.

Naturally, the day after I saw that this was on, I had Concert FM on, Afternoon Requests: and someone had requested this cantata. I hadn't heard it in its entirety since that performance, over a year ago. Back then, having been knocked over by Bach, my first step was to download as many versions as I could of the two soprano-bass duets, but I never did get my hands on a recording of the whole thing. (I bought ten CDs worth of cantatas from the Warehouse, but none of them were 140.) Nevertheless I recognised the recording played on radio as one I'd heard parts of - but sadly not a favourite. Anthony Rolfe Johnson was fine of course, but Ruth Holton I cannot warm to. I liked her once; I hit Bach around the same time I hit Julianne Baird, and so I was in love with that cool, light, vibrato-less sound. I'm no longer entranced by Julianne Baird; and Ruth Holton sounds to me like a boy soprano, and a yawnsome one at that. These days my favourite of those I have is Edith Mathis and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, who put their hearts (und Mund und Tat und Leben) into it and, aided and abetted by Karl Richter and some soaring strings, create something quite stunningly lovely. I base all of this on 'Wann kommst du' alone. The complete thing, which comes with a Magnificat too, goes on my endless wishlist.

But let me repeat, on the offchance there's a Dunedinite out there willing to do as I suggest: Knox Church, tomorrow tonight in fact - the 30th - at 7pm. No admission charge, but a gold coin for the collection plate. (Even I try not to seem completely irredeemable.)

Deborah

The two Lucrezias aren't the only Handelian rediscovery I've made of late. I also finally listened again to Deborah. I bought this back in April, listened to it twice within a couple of weeks - and since then it has remained untouched. Which is particularly bad and particularly surprising because the title role is sung by the wondrous Yvonne. Ah, but the instant gratification of her Handel arias CD is too much to resist; it's much easier to listen to Yvonne and nobody else than to Yvonne, constantly interrupted by choruses and countertenors. However I'm incredibly glad I finally made that effort. Imperceptibly but undeniably my appreciation of her voice has deepened - though I'd hardly have thought that possible - since April, and what was simply drop dead gorgeous then has moved now to a whole new level.

To the recording as a whole, I must say I'm a little indifferent. It's Handel, ergo it's lovely, even though it's mostly recycled coronation anthems and, because it's an oratorio after all, a little static. Though the plot's not exactly subdued: egged on by Deborah, Jael nails the head of the infidel Sisera to the ground with a tent pin - and this is a happy ending. It makes for slightly odd listening. But not as odd as it could be, because for all the bloodshed and kinky murder, it still emerges sounding Very English and Very Oratorio. It has to, because that's what it is; and because of course the murderer is also the good girl. And the villain is a mezzo, so hard not to like.

Susan Gritton is Jael. Susan perplexes me a little. She's an outrageously appealing Cleonilla in the Chandos Ottone in Villa; here she's lovely though not nearly as remarkable; and then there's her oddly matronly, vaguely Fleming-shaped Nannetta in the Opera in English Falstaff, which had me wondering if there might be two Susan Grittons. I think there are, in a sense - certainly a change has gone on, and not hugely to my liking. James Bowman makes a pretty excellent Barak. When I reviewed this the first time I commented that he was particularly distinguished by the fact that I didn't want to kick him. As I do David Daniels in Rinaldo (calme-toi, MezzoGregory, before berating me). He is good - James I mean. Very very good; but I think I prefer my countertenors a little edgier these days. Yvonne's Deborah is fabulous, but appears to be singing some other opera. As I said, it's all pretty standard sounding, nobody who'd sound out of place performing this in a nice church somewhere. Except for Yvonne. If Handel had done Salome, Herodias would sound like this. From her first recitative, this woman sounds as if she'd nail heads to the ground for the sheer fun of it. It's probably due as much to the contrast as anything else, Yvonne's naturally shining tone particularly brilliant against the greyish backdrop of all the rest. And of course, I like to hear my diva stand out - especially sounding as delicious as she does here - but I do think she'd be even better off with a cast who matched her excitement. I try my best to be well-behaved, to listen to recordings without skipping past half the tracks and turning them into a Ms Kenny Showcase but it's hard at the best of times - even harder when there's nobody else to get my teeth even slightly into.

Diva dissection (not as bad as it sounds)

I'll tell you now, these words, beginning an article in The Age today, worried me a little.

Yvonne Kenny wants to break down barriers between the "amplified" generation and opera lovers.

Elitism gets bandied about when it comes to opera and young people (people my age, apparently, though I don't think I count) and while I don't think that's really what it's all about, I wouldn't mind keeping a few barriers. The kinds that keep hiphopera and Il Divo away from me. But - of course - it's alright. She's saying all the right things.

"The best thing to do is to put resources into schools so that people come to accept classical music as an integral part of normal life"

Well that's just fine. We did learn a little about Mozart when I was in primary school, but mostly we sang songs about animals and chocolate. And once we hit high school it all ceased, no music lessons at all - save one term, where we were obliged - at age 13 I might add - to compose music to match a short story we'd written. Why our music teacher wished to subject herself to the 'compositions' of 50-odd tonedeaf teenagers I'll never know. But returning to the important matter: Yvonne. She's saying wonderful things, and I adore her for it.

"It's important not to dumb-down and erode the standard of what is offered in the hunt for an audience"

Brava. This is interesting also.

People are happy to sit down with earphones and turn the sound up beyond its natural level," she says. "They don't even realise that opera singers don't use microphones and rely on our skill and natural anatomy."

I'm very happy indeed to sit down with earphones and turn the sound up. But it's opera, and Yvonne, with which I fill my ears. So where does that put me? The "unamplified" generation, perhaps? I'm hopelessly attached to my mp3 player. But the closest thing on it to pop is Yvonne's Broadway CD. I keep reading articles about how unsuited the iPod and its cousins are to classical music but it's not a problem I face. I keep it on shuffle most of the time - I might get 30 seconds of dialogue from Harnoncourt's Entführung followed by Sara Mingardo singing Monteverdi followed by Joanie's 'Depuis le jour' - and I love every moment. It also means I can listen to 12 Yvonne Kenny CDs - 202 tracks - at once. Suits me just fine. What she goes on to say about live performances I think is perfectly right; and I must be devoted if I'm letting my diva get away with comparing opera to tennis.

But moving on. It gets even more exciting. (At least, I'm excited.)

Kenny will record [La Voix Humaine] with Australian conductor Sir Charles Mackerras for Chandos next year - the first recording of the work in English.

She is also recording some Italian Bel Canto works for Opera Rara, with whom she performed about eight albums early in her career. Next year, she will work with Richard Bonynge on an operetta recording for ABC Classics.

Joy beyond words. Il ritorno di Yvonne in Opera Rara. Actually I'm a little surprised at this but dying to see what she's doing. Operetta? I swoon. Though I'm secretly shamefully hoping it won't include the 'Vilja-Lied' from The Merry Widow which she's already recording fifty million times. (Well, three.) The English La Voix Humaine I knew about already, and it's left me with rather a dilemma because I've got Felicity Lott's already, unlistened to, and now likely to remain silent and make me feel guilty - though not that guilty - for years. Despite AUV's excellent suggestion a while back, I doubt any opera fairy will leave these recordings under my pillow. But considering I'd pay good money just to imagine them, I daresay I'll cope.

I'm very happy. New recordings upcoming, my diva saying wonderful intelligent things about opera, and only 38 days until I see her on stage, wretched and heartbroken and suicidal and beautiful.

La Lucrezia

I buy too many CDs. I freely admit this. If you read this blog with any frequency, you might have noticed it too. Far too many. Some, inevitably, languish. Blushing, I confess I have yet to make it to the Deutsche Grammophon Simon Boccanegra with Mirella Freni & co. which I bought some months ago. There's a Così under James Levine, with a lovely cast - Kiri, Ann Murray, Marie McLaughlin, Thomas Hampson - which I'm halfway through. The list goes on, to an extent; longer, however, is the list of things I've heard just once or twice and never quite made it to again. It's a terrible situation and believe me, I do feel guilty. But every now and then the terrible situation turns to a wonderful one: the half-hidden gems reveal themselves once more, and for once, without spending a cent, I make a discovery.

For one: though it embarrasses me a little to admit it, despite owning Véronique Gens Handel cantatas CD for several months and listening to it disproportionately often - and despite having owned and loved Magdalena Kozena's Handel cantatas CD for much much longer - it wasn't until last week that I looked at one, looked at the other, and - look at that, they both sing La Lucrezia. Magdalena's was one of the first discs ever to hit my mp3 player; that I didn't recognise the cantata when Véronique tore into it worries me somewhat, I must say. However I made amends: I listened to them side by side. They are - as they ought to be - different

Magdalena's Lucrezia wears her heart on her sleeve, and possibly brandishes weapons also. The CD is a live recording. I adore it; others wouldn't. It's a bit rough around the edges, fiercely sung and sometimes, yes, a little over the top. There is, after all, a measure of fury to be heard in the orchestra alone, which doesn't necessarily need to be underlined thrice and highlighted in blood by our wretched heroine. But there's an appeal to this kind of singing nonetheless. Overemotional perhaps, but not, I think, insincere. Though it's not to everybody's tastes, I do think this is Magdalena's sincere conception of her character, not simply theatrics. And though her oh-so-baroque moanings might seem a little much, they're terribly beautiful too. I wish I could say I loved Magdalena's voice from the first moment. I didn't in fact. I was all wrapped up in Cecilia Bartoli; Magdalena came to me in the form of Belle immagini - Mozart and Gluck, just what Cecilia had been reducing me to a puddle with. I viewed her as a pretender to the throne, I judged her against Cecilia's versions - I was very, very silly. But I did get over it quickly and fell heart and soul for that white Slovakian fire that is Magdalena. The voice which is so addictive you listen to her sing the Veil Song and don't even remember that she couldn't possibly ever ever sing Eboli on stage.

Véronique's Lucrezia as a rather more refined figure, though in her way, just as angry. I think there's an inborn dignity to Véronique's singing which can't and won't be shaken off. Her fury is all the fierier because it emerges from someone who at other times, for the fleetingest of moments, shows signs of a Contessa Almaviva kind of graciousness. I'm enchanted by the French silk which Véronique lavishes upon all she does, shaping those glorious vocal lines with such sensitivity and commitment. Her voice doesn't have quite the expansiveness of Magdalena's, but this for Véronique is an asset. She's focused, intense, poised - frightening at times. In another of the cantatas, Agrippina condotta a morire, she sings at one point 'Su, lacerate il seno, ministri, e che si fa?' [Translated in the notes as: Come, rend my breast you ministers; why do you tarry?]. That text is repeated and repeated of course; and the final 'e che si fa' is half-spoken, half-sung, truly believable expression of desperation. It's mild, on the face of it, compared to Magdalena's heartwrenching approach but just as potent.

Véronique seems to have come off rather better here. That's a little bit intentional and a little bit not. I love both Lucrezias (Lucrezie?) and both CDs in their entirety, Magdalena's no holds barred approach and Véronique's period performance sophistication. Despite the differences there's a certain something in each that reminds me of the other, just enough to make me wish for a duet. In fact, Magdalena has been Cherubino to Véronique's Contessa once at least, and it must have been a feast. I've never heard Camilla Tilling, who was their Susanna, but one would almost hope she was unremarkable (which no doubt she's not) just for a little relief from all that heat. So yes, I love both. But as I say, a little bit intentional too - because I do like Véronique's the best. But I'm terribly happy to have found I own both.

NZ Opera 2006 continued

As I hinted, I'm relying on the singers to get me properly excited about the 2006 NZ Opera season. There are no cast lists on the website, but this press release - and this one - help somewhat.

For Faust we have so far:

Faust - Jaewoo Kim
Marguerite - Anne Sophie Duprels
Siébel - Kristen Darragh
Valentin - James Harrison
Wagner - Malcome Ede

For Don Pasquale:

Don Pasquale - Conal Coad
Norina - Lorina Gore
Ernesto - Ashley Catling

For Die Zauberflöte (though it's The Magic Flute on the website so I'm worried it might be in English):

Sarastro - Graeme Broadbent
Queen of the Night - Ana Camelia Stefanescu
Papageno - Richard Burkhard
Papagena - Carla Parry
Monostatos - Phillip Rhodes

Well. For a start, I think Jaewoo Kim for Faust ought to prove a fabulous piece of casting. This man, after all, had girls swooning as Don Ottavio this year. Don Ottavio. It's an utterly gorgeous voice and one which I think will be wonderfully suited to Gounod. This will be his début in the role. About his Marguerite, Anne Sophie Duprels, I know absolutely nothing - except that she's French, which is in itself a very good thing. (For singing French opera I mean. But generally speaking as well.) Siébel, Valentin and Wagner are all being sung by former NZ Opera Emerging Artists - isn't that nice.

Lorina Gore is a UK-based Australian soprano who can be read about here; Ashley Catling is an English tenor. But Conal Coad as Don Pasquale might just steal the show from both of them because he's wonderful.

Ana Camelia Stefanescu's bio makes me think she'll be a pretty fabulous Queen of the Night. This girl sang Zerbinetta for the Romanian National Opera at nineteen. I for one am impressed. And personally, if I could choose any dark-haired Romanian soprano to sing here, I'd still be more interested in this one, because I'm afraid I still don't get Angela. Graeme Broadbent and Richard Burkhard are both English; the latter has an offical website - with audio, though I haven't listened yet. Carla Parry and Phillip Rhodes are two more former Emerging Artists.

There are gaps then: Méphistophélès and Marthe, and about half the cast of Zauberflöte, including Tamino and Pamina. However are also a few singers mentioned as appearing, with no roles specified: Rodney Macann, Helen Medlyn, Jared Holt and Kate Spence. Jared Holt, according to his page at IMGArtists, is singing Valentin - James Harrison is only doing the Auckland run. Rodney Macann's bio at NZ Opera lists The Speaker in his repertoire. Helen Medlyn's rather extensive biography at her own website lists both the Third Lady and Marthe among her roles; as for the lovely Kate, well, I just don't know. Presumably which of those two roles Helen isn't doing.

There's something else, too: in addition to the three staged operas, there's also to be a concert performance of Bartok's Bluebeard's Castle with the Auckland Philharmonia. What a strange country this is. Almost no Handel anywhere for years - but this will be the second Bluebeard's Castle in as many years: Jamie Frater and Ellen Watts sang it at Massey University in July. It might be interesting to hear; but perhaps not possible - you see, I went to the Philharmonia's website to see if there were any details there. There weren't. But I did discover something else that they're doing in May:

Thu 11 May 2006 8:00pm - Town Hall, Auckland

Patricia Wright   Soprano

Kate Spence  Mezzo-soprano

Paul McMahon  Tenor

Stephen Bennett   Bass

Chapman Tripp Opera Chorus

Alexander Liebreich  Conductor

Mozart    Symphony No.35, Haffner

              Maurerische Trauermusik

              Die Maurerfreude Cantata

              Ave Verum Corpus

              Requiem

More Mozart : excellent. Kate Spence: wunderschön. And Patricia Wright? I think I've made my feelings pretty clear on that subject. Give me Patricia Wright in the Mozart Requiem, then, and let's just say I'm a very happy devotee indeed. Bartok's all very well, but I'm not going to Auckland twice in one month, and there's just no way in the world I'd miss this. 202 days and counting.

Season announced

NZ Opera 2006 season announced.

Zauberflöte, Faust and a national tour of Don Pasquale.

I have to confess, I'm ever so slightly underwhelmed. Mostly, though, at a personal level. As three show opera seasons go, it looks like a pretty good one. But given all my dreaming the other day, I had hoped there would be something there to make me sit bolt upright, squeal with excitement, and immediately start booking flights and accommodation. There isn't, however. This might, of course, change slightly once the casts are announced, but on the other hand, it might not. We shall see. This is not to say I'm not going. I'm sure I'll make it to one at least.

Of course, Don Pasquale will come to me. The national tour is a wonderful thing, and I'm glad it's happening at last. I'll admit, of the two Donizetti operas on offer this year, it's the Canterbury Lucia I'm more excited about. It's the fault of Opera Rara and Australian coloraturas (Joanie too), I suppose, but somehow it's all the Somebody Tragic di Somewhere operas that really attract me. Beatrice di Tenda, Linda di Chamounix and my own personal favourite, Emilia di Liverpool - that's the sort of Donizetti I'd get properly excited about. That said, Don Pasquale ought to be good, and has one factor significantly in its favour: Conal Coad, this year's splendid Leporello in Giovanni, in the title role. Besides which, he's directing it, which, given the comic talents he showed off in Giovanni, doesn't seem too shabby an idea at all.

It would be nice to see Die Zauberflöte again. I've seen it live once before but in fact it doesn't count, I was tiny at the time. My First Opera. All I retained was you-know-which-part of 'Der Hölle Rache', and I tormented my parents with...shall we say, my 'version' thereof...for weeks. Despite that, they gave me a Magic Flute picture book, complete with abridged versions of the musical highlights. I half-learnt to play them on the piano. By which I mean, I haltingly/incorrectly struggled through the right-hand melody only. Actually I still play them from time to time now; I can even (sometimes) add the left hand these days. In any case, those bits of music imprinted themselves and as a result,  Zauberflöte was the first opera I knew to any great extent. And of course, apart from any of these sentimental attachments, it's Mozart and it's heaven. (Is some luxury casting for the Three Ladies too much to hope for?)

Faust, on the other hand, is as least as much of an old standby as Zauberflöte - probably more so - but I don't know it nearly as well. The big arias, of course, I know; but the opera in its entirety I have heard precisely once: the Met broadcast with Roberto Alagna in the title role. It will be interesting to see who's cast as Faust for this one. Have we any smooth French tenors floating about the country? Will one be imported?  I know that in that broadcast, it was the lovely sounds of Mr Alagna which stopped me becoming entirely fed up with Faust the man, who's a bit of a bastard, really. Obviously one has to side with devil (best tunes and all that, not to mention the fetching red costumes and dashing horns) but I'd like a Faust with a fighting chance at winning my sympathies, and I think he'll only manage that by sounding beautiful. And naturally I'd like a gorgeous full voiced Marguerite. Siébel has already been announced as Kristen Darragh, whom I've heard once before, as the Israelite Man in Judas Maccabeus, though she made no great impression upon me then.

It's a pretty easygoing season. It could have been better, for me at least. But I'm sure I'll survive. After all, there's Salieri's Falstaff here in Dunedin, a trip or two to Canterbury Opera, Parsifal (and possibly Tan Dun's Tea [!]) in Wellington. Not to mention a Falstaff in Sydney with the Alice Ford of my dreams. And who knows what else will arise as the year progresses. I still wish I was bursting with excitement at some part of the NZ Opera season, but maybe it's just me. Perhaps I'm getting jaded with old age. Besides, the casts haven't been announced yet, we still don't know who our Pamina is, and you know me and Mozart sopranos...

New

Allow me to draw your attention to a new set of links in the sidebar, entitled 'Nuova Zelanda'. There are links there to Canterbury Opera and the NZ Opera, our two major companies, and to the Opera Society's website. I've also linked to the official sites some fabulous New Zealand singers:

Anna Leese studied voice here in Dunedin before heading to London, where (among other things) she's won the Richard Tauber prize and sung a very well received Fiordiligi for the Benjamin Britten Opera School. She's simply glorious. Very much looking forward to her in Messiah here in December.
Simon O'Neill won my admiration when I heard him on radio in a Verdi concert, as winning an Alfredo as he was an Otello. He was also one of Placido Domingo's covers for Siegmund and was recently featured on the 'Sound Bite' page of Opera News. Up, up and away, I say.
Wendy Dawn Thompson is a mezzo soprano. She made it to the finals of the Cardiff Singer of the World this year. I haven't heard her yet, but I hope to soon; but, hey, I've never yet met a Sesto I didn't like.
Jamie Frater is a baritone, and came third in this year's Lexus Song Quest. He also sent me a CD of his six item semi-finals programme, and it's wonderful. Incidentally Jamie's currently at the Royal College but somewhat short of funds...so if you really, really like baritones, go ahead and help him out.
Madeleine Pierard is the excellent mezzo-soprano who took the soprano solo in the Mozart Requiem here the other week. The next time I'll hear her will be as a Flower Maiden in Parsifal; and after that, the Requiem again, but the alto solo instead. And allow me to recommend the excerpt of 'Ich trage meine Minne' in the 'listen' section of her website because it's just beautiful.
And Jonathan Lemalu should, I hope, need no introduction.

That's all I have on the list for now; all recommendations for additions very welcome!