Prima la musica

Twelve Songs of Christmas

As I write this, it's Christmas Day in two of my home countries and Christmas Eve here in my third. So, Merry Christmas everyone! Here's some Christmas music for you all: some of it operatic, some of it not, all of it pretty wonderful. Enjoy.

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Das Lied von Berlin

My latest Limelight blog post is now online. Just so's you know. 

Also online: the Digital Concert Hall video of the Berlin Phil Das Lied.

Seeing stars

 

What better way to spend the free night between performances #1 and #2 of Das Lied von der Erde than with a ridiculous French operetta? Hey, if it's good enough for Sir Simon Rattle (who's been conducting both) then it's good enough for me. Besides which, I am a Magdalena Kozena groupie, and it would have been churlish to miss her while we were all in the same city. So it was off to the Staatsoper on another cold Berlin night. And not to Unter den Linden – that venue's currently undergoing major renovations – but to the Schiller Theater in Charlottenburg, the Staatsoper's pleasant (if slightly spartan) temporary home. 

I'm always pleased to see Magdalena, and L'étoile, if you'll pardon the pun, is certainly a nice star vehicle for a mezzo: Lazuli (the pants role) gets more arias than a Handel hero. Seriously. S/he also gets the final bow – but I think it's safe to say that (again, pardon the pun) the evening's biggest star was the desperately funny Jean-Paul Fouchécourt as King Ouf, exploiting his diminutive stature (I never realised he was so little!) to his advantage with dead-on comic timing. 

And for me, the other (triple pun warning) star of L'etoile was Stella. Doufexis, that is. I've known the name from CD covers for a while now, and somehow had got it into my head that she was 1. French and 2. a soprano. Turns out she's 1. German-Greek, 2. a mezzo and 3. wonderful. It was a shame that her character (Aloès) had comparatively little solo singing. Here she is with some Offenbach. If you're at all familiar with my vocal predilections, it probably won't surprise you that she was my favourite. 

 

I can't say I was massively taken with the opera itself. It had its moments of charming French eccentricity, and also moments of proper comedy, but somehow was never quite as kooky or as funny as the set-up (loopy king, confused lovers, comedy Frenchmen and everyone in disguise) suggested it might be. And just as you thought it was about to take madcap flight, Chabrier chose instead to slow everything down, with interminable ensembles which lost momentum about halfway through. Dale Duesing's 1950s hotel setting (with the odd inexplicably anachronistic costume) was very appealing, though, and I am a bit of a sucker for comic opera with choreography. Not sure why the men's chorus broke into a quasi-haka at one point though.

The other highlight for me? The program. I don't often buy programs, I'm afraid, but I was informed that the Staatsoper's were something special. And so they are. They're little hardcover books, nicely bound and beautifully presented: the sort of thing I suspect Frindley would love. Evidently they're famous, so maybe you've all seen them before, but nevertheless here's a not-very-good photo of my program for L'étoile. 

Pretty, isn't it? And half the price, I might add, of Opera Australia's rather less gorgeous publications. It's full of essays (auf Deutsch) which I shall probably never read, but it really is a lovely keepsake.

L'etoile may not be my new favourite opera but I was happy just to experience the (albeit transplanted) Staatsoper for the first time  – not to mention a pretty nifty cast and the sheer thrill of novelty. And now I have a new mezzo to love, which can only be a Very Good Thing.

Berlin

Berlin is cold but Christmassy and I'm delighted to say that The Tenor in My Life made a spectacular Berlin Philharmonic début last night. Just amazing. I've heard him sing Das Lied von der Erde a billion times (well, almost) and it's always fantastic but I'm prepared to say that last night's was the best yet. The urge among the audience to applaud after the fifth song (his last, but of course not the end of the piece) was palpable. And oh my word can that band play. I have to say, sitting there and listening to the Berlin Philharmonic play Mahler was definitely one of those extraordinary how-did-I-get-here moments. 

Not to mention the bonus of hearing Anne Sofie von Otter sing the alto half of Das Lied – first time I'd heard her live – and Gerald Finley being fabulous in the final scene of Cunning Little Vixen, which started the concert. Das Lied and Janacek gloriousness in the same night, and played by one of the best orchestras in the universe – with Sir Simon Rattle on the podium, what's more. It really doesn't get much better than that, does it?

Two more concerts, tomorrow and Saturday. The last is particularly exciting as it's to be broadcast globally via the Berlin Phil's Digital Concert Hall. So even if you're not in Berlin – if you're in, say, Australia (hint hint) and want to support a homegrown heldentenor (hint hint) – you can still watch it, either live or after the fact, as they archive everything. Ain't technology swell? 

Christmas List

Dear Santa,

Please alert your Operatic Elf Division (or Universal Music) that these are the presents I'd like. They don't exist yet but I have absolute faith in your little helpers to make them happen.

Natalie Dessay: songs of Débussy, Poulenc, Satie and Fauré. Natalie doesn't seem to do art song, and I've never quite understood why. And while I could happily live on the French song albums of her compatriots Sandrine Piau and Véronique Gens – not to mention the Divine Flott – I'm still curious as to what she'd do with this repertoire.  

The Complete Elly Ameling Edition. I am catching up, lamentably late, with the glory that is Elly Ameling, but my trademark laziness is, as usual, doing battle with my completist aspirations. I just want it all, and, like Veruca Salt, I want it now. A complete Mirella Freni edition wouldn't go amiss either; I have quite a bit of her, but I know there are gaps, and one can never have too much Mirella.

Karina Gauvin Sings: The Phone Book. She might as well. I'd listen to it.

Stuart Skelton: German Romantic arias and orchestral songs. Thus spake bias, but hey, I'm guessing that if you've heard him, you'd quite like this to exist too, no? And speaking of Australian singers in need of solo discs, where oh where is Peter Coleman-Wright sings Baritone Hits when you need it? ABC Classics, I'm looking at you. And while we're at it, the world would be a better place if Duets and Debauchery with Jacqui Dark and Kanen Breen were a real thing.

A chance (and a ticket) to see Aleksandra Kurzak live. I've consulted my calendar and hers, and so far, we scheduled to coincide exactly nowhere. Hope, however, springs eternal.

Michelle DeYoung Sings: Anything She Darn Well Pleases. As with Karina. I am at her mercy. Anything she chooses to sing will delight me. And I will buy it for everyone I know. And for strangers. And an extra copy for myself, just in case. 

I would also really appreciate it if the Elves could dig up a beautifully produced studio Lohengrin with Lucia Popp as Elsa and, say, James King in the title role. If Melba Recordings cares to do a Thaïs with Cheryl and Peter, well, I wouldn't complain. And let's not forget the Opera Australia Britten DVDs. Midsummer Night's Dream, Turn of the Screw, Billy Budd and, oh yes, Peter Grimes. Hey, it's Christmas: a girl can dream.

So much for the realms of fantasy. Now for some excerpts from my real life wish list:

Véronique Gens: Tragédiennes III. One serious disadvantage of no longer working in classical music retail is that releases like this pass me by completely. I waited for Volume II for weeks, tore into every box from EMI/Virgin with indecent haste, and snapped up the very first copy we unpacked. But I only found out Volume III existed courtesy of somebody's throwaway comment on (sigh) Parterre. I've yet to see it in a physical CD store; that's still my preference, but the day is fast approaching when I give in and download the thing.

As many tickets as I can sensibly acquire for Opera Australia's Salome and Die Tote Stadt. I'm still not convinced on the whole Korngold-wrote-film-scores-so-it's-OK-to-pipe-the-orchestra-in thing, but hey: Cheryl. As Marie/Marietta. And Salome needs no explanation. Amazingly, I will be in Australia at the right time for both. 

All the Karina Gauvin I don't already own. Self explanatory. I'm getting there, but some help would be nice, Santa!

Alice Coote: The Power of Love. I cannot tell you how much I've longed for another Alice Coote recital disc, and at last, it's on its way. (The title is giving me visions of Alice Coote as Céline Dion, but this seems unlikely to eventuate.)

Cheryl Barker: Pure Diva. I downloaded it, so buying the physical CD has slipped down my priority list. But it would still be nice to own, if not to fork out for. Ergo, ideal stocking stuffer. 

Enough demands? Probably. Once again I have betrayed my teenybopper nature – I'm afraid I can't help but feel guilty for not filling my list with rare archival recordings of Amelita Galli-Curci or eleven different Callas Toscas. But maybe I should beat myself up instead for asking Santa for anything at all. The amount of amazing live opera I'll be brushing up again in the next twelve months is an embarassment of riches: enough for any number of Christmases, I'd say. 

Now tell me (and I'll tell Santa). What's on your wish list, real or fantastic? 

Hipster Don Carlo

He liked Elisabetta before she was mainstream.

Resurrection

Hello again. I'm back. Back in Orlando, after a very laidback holiday in Sydney. Back blogging after – oh my – three weeks of silence. And most noticeably of all, of course, I'm back on Typepad after ten months of Tumblr. 

Tumblr was fun while it lasted, and it does have some cool tricks which I'll miss. But not as much as I've come to miss Typepad. I just don't think that my blog or I are destined to find a permanent home in Tumblr-land, and even the (admittedly tedious) process of transporting the bulk of my Tumblr posts over to my new (old) digs only served to reinforce how much better a match Typepad is. Returning to this blog — and to the seven years worth of writing which were here before I moved — is like coming home.

It does also mean returning to my old blog address and its matching title. So while I've enjoyed having a blog whose name I could tell people without feeling slightly pretentious — and as proud as I was of my play on words — I fear it's farewell to Vocal Supporter and hello again to Prima la musica. Again, the familiarity makes me happy, as does the continuity — my Facebook and Twitter profiles, and my email address, are all still primalamusica and I really do like it when stuff matches.

The Tumblr experience has made an impression, though. I've grown used to short format blogging alongside my more verbose efforts, so I think that will probably continue, even if posting videos, photos and so on isn't quite so ridiculously simple over here. That said, it already seems easier than it did ten months ago, when I moved, and my guess is that that's something Typepad will keep on improving. 

So if you moved with me from Typepad to Tumblr, then I hope you're not too irritated about moving back; if you only ever read me on Tumblr, then I'd love it if you stuck with me despite this betrayal; and if you gave up on me completely when I made the switch (and fair enough) then, well, you were right. Here I am, back where I'm pretty sure I belong.

Oh and speaking of resurrections: while it wasn't the reason we went, one of the biggest bonuses of our time in Sydney was the Sydney Symphony's performance of Mahler 2. First time I've heard it live. Pretty darn cool. And no prizes for guessing that the highlight for me was the one and only Michelle DeYoung. Who was amazing – that's really not a big enough word – and made me wish Mahler had given his alto soloist maybe fifty times as much to sing. I could listen forever to that warm, velvety and all encompassing voice. She just seems somehow to operate on a higher plane than us mere mortals. How she does it is anybody's guess but I'm just honoured to sit back and behold in wonder. (Yeah, I might be a bit of a fan. Michelle, you rule.) 

By way of conclusion – if you're feeling strong – here she is to make you weep, in the performance of Mahler 2 given in New York this past September to commemorate 9/11. 

 

Oh, and a remarkably well timed email from the Sydney Symphony has just informed me that you can watch selected concerts from their Mahler Odyssey – including the Mahler 2 – online here.