Prima la musica, poi le parole

NaBloPoMo

You might notice that a little black and white badge has materialised in the sidebar. I've jumped on the National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) bandwagon, which means that theoretically I'll be posting something every day this month. You know how I feel about bandwagons. But lately my bloggish activities have slowed almost to a halt the moment Opera Australia decamps to Melbourne, and this won't do — so I'm hoping that extra sense of obligation which NaBloPoMo provides might help to keep me writing. We'll see. And I think this counts as today's post.

Meanwhile, keep those Grimes reflections coming. I'll probably start collating them on Wednesday evening.  

Not really a post

Forgive my long(ish) silence, if indeed it has bothered you in the first place. I am not dead, nor even comatose. But the last couple of weeks have been what you might call trying. Opera, theatre, a trip to New Zealand and sundry, less artistic distractions have all played their part, and in amongst it all, I produced both a Fine Music cover story and an insanely elaborate birthday card — both of which came at the cost of a good night's sleep. 

However, I will be back very soon. Tomorrow evening I hope (if all goes to plan) with a review of NZ Opera's Eugene Onegin, which was the reason for my trip. Meanwhile, of course, the two or three of you who notice such things might be aware that I've not posted properly about OA's Cosi. I meant to, and kept meaning to, but at this point — nearly two weeks since I saw it — I think my recollections are a bit hazy. So, since I intend to see it again in mid-October, I'm breaking with tradition and leaving the long, rambling post until then. Seems the best idea; not least because the longer I think about the show, the more I want to say, so at least this way I can say it all at once and not repeat myself. If you're especially keen for some of my quasi-detailed thoughts on Cosi, though, you could always read my review for The Opera Critic.

I'm sure I'm flattering myself when I feel pangs of guilt for going a week without blogging. Lives go on. But just at the level of pure self-indulgence, I do miss it, even after such a relatively short absence. See you soon.

Winterson of my discontent

Since I can't seem to think of anything to write about, I might as well argue with Jeanette Winterson. That's not an obscure figure of speech: I really do have a bone to pick with her. Flicking through this month's Gramophone, I came across Jeanette's (sorry, I don't feel scholarly enough tonight to call her "Winterson) little article at the back, the usual "Classical Music and Me" kind of spot. It's pretty innocuous stuff and this is not some kind of vitriolic taking to task. She likes Wagner and Natalie Clein and other things and good for her; she's just edited a collection of opera-themed short stories (called Midsummer Nights) so I suppose in some ways she and I are probably kindred spirits.

But. There's one comment she makes which bothered me. And it still bothers me. She said she detests (I think that was her word — I don't have the magazine here to check) surtitles in opera. She thinks they get in the way of what she deems the essential experience of opera, which she describes as "surrendering". Even leaving aside for now the obvious absurdity of trying to encapsulate the operatic experience in a single concept, let alone a single word — not to mention the mistake of imagining that what you consider the essence of opera is, or should be, the essence of everybody else's experience too — I cannot entirely comprehend this wholesale dismissal of surtitles.

She thinks they get in the way. And she says, blithely, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, that you don't really need them anyway, because you can figure out what's going on onstage by reading up on the story beforehand. (I'm paraphrasing here, but only slightly.) I confess, I am amazed. I would have thought of all people, a writer, somebody to whom the sublime complexity language is presumably a vital concern, would see that surtitles have a great deal to offer. Maybe they can  present an occasional visual or mental obstacle, but let's not forget the huge obstacle they clear away — as far as possible, they remove the language barrier. 

Surtitles allow us to appreciate more than just the broad strokes which a synopsis provides: they give us all the detail. Yes, the music on its own says a hell of a lot  — I'd never say otherwise — but there is a reason opera uses music and words. The words — the specific words which that librettist chose and that composer set, the words which that character is singing and that singer is interpreting — matter. And OK, maybe they don't matter to everybody as much as they do to me. Despite the title of this blog, I've no desire to rehash the ancient parole/musica argument, and having admonished Jeanette for doing so, I'm not now going to try and tell you that my approach to opera should be everybody else's. I'm extremely surprised, though, that she's happy to dismiss surtitles like this without admitting even the possibility of their contributing in a very meaningful and life-enhancing way to the operatic experience of many people. 

What I really can't get over is her suggestion that the purpose of surtitles can be served equally well by merely boning up on the plot ahead of time. As if a broad strokes understanding of the story were all that anyone could need. As if all the complex dialogue or lyric poetry or punning wit of a libretto (even a mediocre one) serve to do is add a bit more detail to a story whose full richness can still be understood from a programme note or your handy Grove. Would Jeanette suggest that reading the Wikipedia synopsis of Pride & Prejudice is as rich an experience as reading the novel, or that downloading a pixelated Artchive image of an Ingres is as good as seeing it in a gallery? Should we check IMDb and then watch foreign films without subtitles? Are the Cliffs Notes all we need after all? No, I don't for a moment imagine she'd advocate anything of the sort. An appreciation of the details, and of the style in which those details are realised, can vastly enhance our appreciation of the whole. In opera, surtitles are a fantastic way to reveal those details, and yet she urges their removal. It's beyond me.

Just think what we would lose if we functioned along the lines she's apparently suggesting. The poetic humanity of the Marschallin's "Da geht er hin". The ins and outs of Gregor v Prus. The contradictory yet curiously well-rhymed sentiments of a Rossini ensemble. The jokes in Figaro — imagine the poor singers, too, performing a comedy to an audience who can only laugh at visual humour. Even the most shameless showpiece of a rum-ti-tum bel canto rondo e scena makes a bit more sense when we can understand more than just a vague emotion, and what's the good of an old-fashioned "Sangue!" if we don't know what that man shaking his fist is actually bellowing? It's true that all of these things can be appreciated without surtitles — if one understands the language. And many of us do, whether by study or osmosis. That's not necessarily an option for everybody or at every moment, though; surtitles ensure that all the thrills of a nuanced operatic text are available to everybody who wants or needs them. 

Maybe reading them does prevent the exact romantic "surrender" which Jeanette desires (and requires?) but her surrender is not necessarily yours or mine, nor is surrender necessarily what we're seeking. I also have trouble agreeing that reading does absolutely prohibit fullblown intoxication. And if it does, you can always just not read them. There's no need to dislike them or wish them away — they're not compulsory, so just ignore them. Lord knows, I do. Most of the seats I book don't let me see them anyway. If it's something I'm particularly obsessed with, then I'll do my best to learn the text beforehand: that, for me, is the only real replacement for surtitles. 

Whether I do without them or not, and whether I can see them or not, I'm very happy indeed that they're there. 

Opera isn't what I say it is, or what Jeanette Winterson says it is, or in fact what anybody says it is. It's whatever you, in the moment, know it is. There are all kinds of ways and means to appreciate it, to understand it, to love it madly. Surtitles are now an important part of that for a lot of people. I believe their potential to enrich the operatic experience far outweighs their potential to distract. Jeanette believes otherwise. But at least my blogging drought is broken at last. Take that, Winterson. 

Les oiseaux dans la charmille

This is just a quick note to officially acknowledge what you've probably already noticed: after a long period of resistance, I have finally succumbed (thanks mostly to the #operaplot experience) to the dark pit of addiction that is Twitter. I don't blame you if you disapprove. All I will say in my defence — and you might have suspected as much from its inclusion in the sidebar — is that I promise not to use it to broadcast the minutiae of my boring domestic existence. My plan is to restrict my Twittering (that might not be the correct verb — I'm very new at this) to matters at least tangentially operatic: all the little thoughts and links and bits of trivia which are either too brief to blog about at all, or which end up buried in list posts under the heading "Various". Otherwise I doubt it will have much effect on either the frequency or content of my usual blogging. So there it is. Prima la musica has entered the Twittersphere and you are welcome — but most certainly not obliged — to follow me there. 

Plots thicken

After weeks of resistance, I finally succumbed last night to the operablogosphere's latest craze, The Omniscient Mussel's #operaplot game. For the 3 people in the world who've not heard about it yet, the idea is briefly this: via Twitter, summarise an opera in no more than 130 characters. The competition has been running for a while now and closes tomorrow afternoon Sydney time. The initial limit of 10 entries per person has now been lifted, but since the ideas haven't been flowing nearly as easily for me as they apparently have for some others, I think 10 will do for now. And since I'm at a loss right now for anything decent and substantial to blog about, I'm afraid I will fall back on old tricks and offer a list in lieu of content. 

So, with apologies for any and all cringeworthiness, my #operaplot contributions are as follows:

1. Soluble, voluble sprite prays to moon for love. Gets wish and legs. Loses voice and the boy. Comes to a Grimm end. 

2. It's just like The Sound of Music, but with ghosts & Freudian angst instead of schmaltz & Nazis. And the kids are even creepier.

3. Contestant on macabre Hungarian gameshow ignores all hints from the host and opens one mystery door too many.

4. PTSD victim? Shampoo ad? Bluebeard's ex? Or maybe she's just not that into you. Ask your brother.

5. 19yo SWF seeks Croat 4 marriage of love/convenience. No ties except 1 v. confused sister. R U my Mr Right? Photo on request.

6. Treehugger jilts transvestite & chases brother's girl. Girl's sister helps: she wants the brother. Springer: The Opera? Not yet.

7. Noble lady trapped in harem of surprisingly complex Pasha. Will her fiancé get to her before Stockholm syndrome does?

8. Mother-in-law from hell drives her son's frustrated young wife into the arms of another, into madness and into the Volga.

9. Parisian mistress rings ex for long and painful chat. Kills herself when she realises he'll never pay her phone bill again. 

10. Amatory lepidopterist traps fragile specimen among Nagasaki cherry blossoms. Fumbling to release her, he crushes her instead.

Meanwhile...

...bass Richard Alexander has found the best use yet for Bunnings. 

...finals of the Lexus Song Quest will be held in Auckland tonight, with Siegfried Jerusalem adjudicating. Serious brownie points to anybody who manages to get the results to me before they make it to Google News.

...reviews for Opera Australia's new production in Melbourne of Bellini's I Capuleti e i Montecchi are appearing and are mostly positive. See: The Australian | The Age | Australian Stage Online

...congrats to New Zealand's Own Anna Leese ^TM for a successful Canadian début as Musetta for the Canadian Opera Company and a warmly received new recital disc of Haydn songs. 

...the always wonderful Jacqui Dark has made it (as Aksinya in Lady M) to Opera Chic.

...this will seem like a question out of nowhere, but does anybody know what became of the Sydney Symphony's plans to release the recording of their 2007 Don John of Austria on CD? Presumably they've been scrapped, which is hardly surprising, I suppose, but a shame nevertheless. I'd have loved a permanent souvenir of such an entertaining evening, and am still kicking myself for missing the radio broadcast. But perhaps I'm the only one.

Green Room Awards

Winners were announced last night. Not surprisingly, Opera Australia won eight of ten categories in the opera division and half of those — quite rightly — were for the divine Arabella. It shares the Best Production award alongside Victorian Opera's L'incoronazione di Poppea and also won John Cox the Best Direction prize for John Cox. (His Un ballo di maschera is cited too, but that was a revival rehearsed by Luise Napier and come on, it's all about Arabella.)  Amelia Farrugia is best supporting female for her turn as Oscar in Ballo, while Kanen Breen picks best supporting male for both his Cassio (Otello) and his Elemer (Arabella) — personally I'd give it to him just for Cassio, but the more nods for Arabella the better. It also received awards for scenery and costumes (Robert Perdziola) and lighting (Donn Byrnes). Best new operatic work is Alan John's Through the Looking Glass  (with libretto by Andrew Upton), staged by Victorian Opera in collaboration with the Malthouse Theatre. Best conductor, interestingly enough, is for a real rarity: Peter Tregear, who led IOpera's production of the Duchess Anna Amalia's Erwin und Elmire. But of course I've saved my personal best for last. Best Male in a Leading Role is — who else? — Jonathan Summers as Iago. And Best Female in a Leading Role? Why, it's the one and only Cheryl Barker. Bravi tutti.

See the full list of nominees and recipients here.

Various

I am slowly drifting back to earth now after my excursion into the Cherylsphere (thank you for putting up with me) and feel inclined to blog about something else for a change. And yet, nothing substantial occurs to me for the moment, though there are a few good prospects on the horizon. In the meantime, if only to remind myself of the big wide world, let's just have a good old fashioned bullet pointed miscellany.

• The six finalists for this year's Lexus Song Quest (New Zealand's most significant singing competitions) have been announced. No Dunedinites this year, so I have heard none of the six live, but most of the names are familiar. Most of the buzz I hear seems to be about Aivale Cole, who was nominated for a Helpmann last year and has recently made an auspicious début with the West Australian Opera as Aida. Julia Booth was recently singled out for praise in a competition review in NZ Opera News and she definitely wins the Best Website prize. Kristen Darragh is NZ Opera's 2009 Young Artist. Andrew Glover and Polly Ott are both new names to me: Glover is a London-based tenor, while Ott, at 21, is the youngest of the finalists, with the kind of choral background which has stood so many finalists and winners of this competition in such good stead. Wade Kernot was runner-up in the 2007 Song Quest and has been winning numerous accolades elsewhere; he also has a (slightly untidy) website.  The competition website provides clips of all six singers in action, with piano accompaniment. Based on just those samples (which I know from experience are not a wonderful indication, and are made all the worse by my tinny laptop speakers) my favourite is Kernot by far; Cole is the other standout, although I suspect she comes across rather more thrillingly in person and with an orchestra.
      
• Opera Australia have announced some rearrangements in the upcoming Melbourne season. It all begins with Emma Matthews, or rather the lack of her — a respiratory infection has forced her out of the Melbourne season of I Capuleti e i Montecchi. She'll thus be replaced by Hye Seoung Kwon (who was already scheduled to sing the last two performances of this opera in its Sydney season). That means Hye Seoung is out of Die Zauberflöte, so she'll be replaced as Pamina by the lovely Sarah Crane. The domino effect continues: Crane is now replaced as First Lady by Amy Wilkinson, who is in turn replaced as Papagena by Annabelle Chaffey. Got all that? 
  
  
• Speaking of I Capuleti, it's one of this season's cruellest injustices that Melbourne gets Brad Cohen conducting its season, and we don't. But while we wait for his return to Sydney, allow me to recommend his rather comprehensive website and his YouTube channel. Richard Bonynge (it was spelt like that on the van) eat your heart out.


• And speaking of YouTube, you ought to see this. It's Joyce DiDonato singing "Crude furie degli orridi abissi" and it's every bit as spectacular as you'd expect. Is there no end to this woman's brilliance? I'm still stuck on her Handel arias disc. And her performance in the title role of Alan Curtis' new recording of Alcina is also a must. Curtis is clearly a genius — surely nobody in the world would ever have thought of casting Joyce in the soprano role, and yet it works so preposterously well that once you've heard it, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world — and you certainly wouldn't want her relegated to the pants role, when she's so well suited to the magic and madness of Alcina. And you've probably already seen this — I may even have linked to it before — but it bears repeated viewing.   


• The onetrackedness of my mind is incorrigible. The Fool &  The Opera now has the extended interview available as a podcast. Recommended listening. 

Looking forward

As hinted at, I'm marking my half decade of blogging with the unveiling of two small side-projects. I actually meant to do this at the beginning of January, but somehow that didn't happen. Anyway, allow me to direct your attention to:

The Prima la musica Opera in Australia Calendar
I realise February 2nd is a funny time to launch a calendar, but it beats waiting until next January. Inspired by the Opera~Opera listing and the NYC/Philly Opera Fanatic's similar service, this is an attempt to get as many Australian operatic events as possible listed in one place. It's a work in progress. So far I've listed the full seasons of the national and state opera companies, plus a few of the smaller Melbourne and Sydney companies, along with operatic/vocal events from the state orchestras, Musica Viva, the ACO, the ABO and the Sydney Conservatorium, and a smattering of other recitals, concerts and vocal competitions. I'm still waiting for various organisations to publish their 2009 concert schedules online, and submissions (via email or the comments section) are welcome. As are corrections: I've done my best, but there are bound to be errors.

Opera Australia Futures

Another derivative project. Hat tip this time to Brad Wilber and Gert. Rumours, speculation etc. about future seasons at Opera Australia. Again, submissions, additions, corrections and so on eagerly received.

Permanent links to both of these pages have been placed in the sidebar. I'll try and post notification here of major updates to either of them. 

Billet doux

Dear City Recital Hall,

Your new ticketing system isn't as pretty as the old one. The functionality is a little on the clunky side. It's prone to freeze (hint: Firefox good, Chrome bad). But it allows me to choose my own seat and even to see an image of the view from that seat. So for that, you have my gratitude and undying respect. Let's hope some of this country's other performing arts organisations will follow your example.

XXX

Sarah

And actually, while I'm at it,

Dear Australian Chamber Orchestra,

I don't love your posters. Or the titles you give to your concerts. But there's one thing about you I definitely do love. Thank you for offering under 30s tickets which are 1. a genuinely reasonable price and 2. available in all seating reserves. Let's hope some of this country's other performing arts organisations will follow your example, too.

XXX

Sarah

Five

Allow me to wish myself a slightly belated happy birthday. This blog turned five yesterday. I can't believe I've kept this up for so long. Thanks to those who've been reading from (almost) the beginning and to all those who've arrived in the years since. I have a couple of things in the works to mark the half decade, but like everything else lately, they're running slightly behind schedule. Watch this space.

Ich bin City Opera

Way down here in the Antipodes, with the tumult at our own opera company to think about (when we have the energy), the struggles of American companies can seem a little remote. But New York City Opera has a special place in my heart. I'll never forget how the City Opera Xerxes saved us from crushing despair, when we arrived in New York ready to see Ruth Ann Swenson in recital, only to discover she'd cancelled. They even threw divine Sarah Connolly into the mix. And besides, Beverly Sills loved City Opera, and I love Beverly Sills. 

So on that note, American readers, I draw your attention to the I am City Opera project, and encourage you to help this very special company in its hour of need. Before it's too late. 

Meanwhile

• Report just in from Melbourne that Antoinette Halloran once again stepped in at short notice for an indisposed Nicole Youl at tonight's performance of Madama Butterfly, and was once again an utter delight. (SMS version: "Antoinette is tiny and perfect. I hate Pinkerton.")   
• A few belated links to the latest installments in the continuing Opera Australia saga: Ziggy Switkowski is new chairmain, plans overhaul (The Age)| Weird humour piece on new chairman (Sydney Morning Herald) | Sensible analysis and response from board member David Malouf (Sydney Morning Herald) | Inevitable response from Bruce Martin (The Age) 
• Can't get enough (Marc-Antoine) Charpentier? The Pinchgut rehearsal blog has links and excerpts from print reviews, Marcellous, Thomasina and Wanderer have all blogged responses, and if you're so inclined, you can read the beginning of my interview with haute-contre Anders J. Dahlin and Pinchgut chair Liz Nielsen, which appeared in the December issue of 2MBS' Fine Music magazine. (You'll need to be a subscriber to read the whole thing.) 

Various

— I'm informed via email that Antoinette Halloran sang the title role of Madama Butterfly in Melbourne on Saturday, filling in for an indisposed Nicole Youl, and evidently scored a triumph. Brava, Antoinette, and we look forward to seeing your Butterfly here in January. (Apparently it was a bit of an ill starred evening, with Rosario La Spina going off sick after Act One as well. I don't know who replaced him at the end, though I'd be curious to find out.) [Update: Jamie Allen sang Pinkerton in Act 3 -see comment below]  

— Danish architect Joern Utzon, who designed the Sydney Opera House, died on Saturday aged ninety. The sails of the opera house were darkened on Sunday in mourning. Thomasina has an eloquent tribute to his iconic creation.

— It's not opera, but it definitely falls under the heading of diva worship — single tickets for the Sydney Theatre Company's 2009 season went on sale today, including for the production of most interest to me, A Streetcar Named Desire with Cate Blanchett as Blanche DuBois. Cate. As Blanche. As if Vivien and Yvonne weren't enough to keep me sighing forever. 

—Announcing the massively overdue addition to the blogroll of Anik LaChev's gorgeous blog Eye Bags, "footnotes on writing, trying to get a Ph.D., opera and cooking." I've been reading Eye Bags for a long time, and we have several obsessions in common, so I have no excuse for not blogrolling it earlier. But at least I have now.

Blogroll

I am appallingly slack about updating it, but if you care to look to your right and scroll down a little, you might notice the blogroll is now sporting a number of shiny additions, all of them (gasp!) Australian. Or, if you don't care to scroll your way there, here they are in a convenient list:

Pinchgut Opera. I'm more than a little surprised to realise it's taken me this long to blogroll the Pinchgut blog, but perhaps I just (shamefully!) removed it during a dormant period. Anyway, for the third year running, Ken, Liz et al are blogging the rehearsals for Pinchgut Opera's annual production. This year it's Charpentier's David et Jonathas. Pinchgut's is one of my favourite opera company blogs, and not just because I'm biased: they update almost every day — sometimes more than once a day — and provide a genuine insight into the nuts and bolts of putting on a show, complete with copious photos and the odd tantalising hint of what's in store. Check daily or you'll fall behind. And book, if you haven't already!

The Fool and The Opera. The blog of a soon-to-launch radio show of the same name on Melbourne's JOY 94.9. Blogger and producer Dan Vo promises to "poke and prod at Australian opera until all the delicious and delectable treats and goodies come pouring out" and so far he's delivering quite fabulously. If the show is as enjoyable as the blog, then I'd heartily recommend it to all Melburnians so inclined.

Not another music blogger... Where Lady Blogger offers "my opinions, like 'em or lump 'em", although not as frequently as I might like! However, when she does post it's plenty of fun, so I'm willing to forgive. I plugged "Not another..." soon after she launched but somehow didn't add her to the blogroll then. Error amended — sorry for the delay!

Stumbling on melons. Marcellous blogs anonymously and eloquently on music, law, life and a kaleidoscope of other topics besides.

Thomasina's last waltz. What it says on the tin — "Words, music and other enthusiasms – the weblog of Yvonne Frindle." Currently being updated with delightful frequency.

I am a liminal being. "Dreaming my dream in urban and rural New South Wales." Wide-ranging and frequently wonderful words — and images — from Wanderer.

Esoteric Rabbit. Theatre, art, music, politics and lots, lots more from Matthew Clayfield, "journalist, cultural critic, wayward filmmaker and bon vivant currently based in Sydney, Australia." Matthew blogrolled me many moons ago, and I, shockingly, am only now returning the favour. Posts on opera are few and far between, but always worth the wait, and perhaps now that he's moved to Sydney we can hope for a few more. And he's a Cheryl fan, which can only be a good thing!

7

It's been a while since my last meme. However, the proprietress of Score Desk (to whom I wish a belated buon compleanno) has tagged me, and I'm inclined to oblige. Especially as she credits me with her discovery of baroque opera, a distinction I'm only too proud to hold. So here, staying roughly on-topic, is the Seven Things About Me meme.

1. I have softened quite a lot since starting this blog four (almost five) years ago. It surprises me sometimes to read older posts: I don't remember being quite so venomous!

2. If I didn't have opera, bluegrass would probably be my musical obsession of choice. Ask me my favourite singer in the whole wide world and chances are I'll choose, not an opera singer, but Alison Krauss.

3. My very first diva (of sorts) was Nancy Sinatra. I wrote her a letter when I was five. She never replied.

4. Back in day, I used to adore Parterre in a starry-eyed sort of way. Now I find it quite an unpleasant environment, and visit less and less. The vulgarity and vitriole in the comments is appalling: I cannot imagine anything worse than attending the opera with people like that.

5. It probably means I'm a terrible person, but I strongly dislike the singing of Dame Emma Kirkby. I appreciate her significance in the revival of early music, and for that she has my utmost respect. But in anything post-Hildegard (and especially Handel) I'm afraid I can't abide her.

6. I am still tortured by the knowledge that, about six months (or less) before my opera obsession declared itself fully — though I was already sliding slowly in that direction — there was a production of Der Rosenkavalier in Wellington, starring Yvonne Kenny as the Marschallin. Had it happened a year later, I would have been there. As it was, I wasn't, and so I'll never see her in what might just have been her greatest role. (Some consolation, though, in news along the grapevine that the 2010 season will include the Marschallin of another Australian soprano of whom I am also rather fond.)

7. 14 months after it closed, I can no longer sing the whole of A Streetcar Named Desire in my head, although large chunks remain. Even at this distance, I have no wish to hear it again, and yet, against all reason and good sense, it is possible I will travel to Melbourne in December to see it just one more time. More for finality's sake than anything else, I think.

I'm now supposed to tag seven people. But I think I will take my usual cowardly route and just say, if you feel so inclined, consider yourself tagged.

Ritorna vincitor!

I did not spend last night at a major singing competition, but evidently much of Australia did.

In Melbourne, it was the finals of the Herald Sun Aria. Placed first was the excellent soprano Natalie Aroyan, whose performances I've enjoyed on several occasions and who seems to be sweeping quite a few awards these days. Runner-up was soprano Anna Whitehead, while tenor Irving Dekterev received the Encouragement Award. [See Herald Sun article here.]

Meanwhile, in Sydney, I also (and less forgiveably) missed the finals of the Mathy Award. The winning singer was baritone Sitiveni Talei. As usual, the other three finalists all received a variety of prizes and scholarships. Special congratulations to my own favourite among the semi-finalists, Sky Ingram, who was awarded five prizes, including a year's fees at the Guildhall. [See competition website for a full prize list.]

Congratulation to all the winners. And it's not over yet! The competitions keep coming. On Sunday, it's the finals of Opera Foundation Australia's German Opera Scholarship — this one, I shan't be missing.

See also

First, I just have to share this, from James Waites' overview of the 2008 Helpmann Awards at Australian Stage Online:

"In a tentative move to comment on the realm of opera, I was thrilled to see Cheryl Barker take out the award for Best Female Performer in an Opera. This was for her title role performance in Arabella, which I did not see. But who cares – I saw and heard Barker in Otello last week – and oh my gosh! Here is another perfect candidate to support my theme.

I did happen to be there eighteen years ago on the opening night of Baz Luhrmann/Catherine Martin’s La Boheme – which not only set that mildly talented duo up for all that has since followed; but where Cheryl Barker made us weep as a most tender of Mimi’s. A star was born.

Cheryl Barker - look at you now! Your Desdemona is incandescent. You are in full flight. As the guy who gets to hangs out in the stalls with the punters, I had to stop and pinch myself: how goddam lucky am I?"

Indeed.

Also, a bit of a link drop. You should see...

...wonderful Dunedin mezzo Claire Barton singing the South African national anthem at Carisbrook.
...Anna Leese's debut recital on EMI, which will finally be released next week.
...as much as you can of Anna Moffo in Pergolesi's La serva padrona, now available on YouTube. Forget glossy crossover and barihunks; if this doesn't make you love opera, nothing will.
...Not Another Music Blogger, the brand new blog of one Lady Blogger, who has been providing comprehensive and highly entertaining coverage of the Sydney International Piano Competition. Welcome to the blogosphere, Lady Blogger!

Non mi dir

Speaking of unusual angles on Don Giovanni (I'm about to go and see Elke's for a second time), allow me to draw your attention to this production, from De Nederlandse Oper, which I find strangely enchanting. I've linked to the "Non mi dir"; there's a selection of other clips available also, all worth watching. This is one of those very rare occasions when a YouTube clip has made me want to own the DVD immediately. The (fantastic) soprano, incidentally, is one Myrto Papatanasiu, whom Sydneysiders can hear in Beethoven's Missa Solemnis with the Sydney Symphony on the 19th of July. (Or the 18th, if you happen to be a pilgrim.)

Here

Greetings from Vancouver, eh. Internet access will be sketchy after today until I get to San Francisco. So this is just to say I'm still on the planet, though possibly next week Natalie will send me up into the galaxy somewhere. Speaking of which — I flew Air Canada. Their inflight entertaiment system includes XM Radio, so I found the classical station, browsed through the albums and chose Emmanuelle Haim's new recording of Bach's Magnificat and Handel's Dixit Dominus, which I didn't know existed. And the cover image was too blurry to see anyone's name except Emmanuelle's. You know what happens next — Track 3 was Natalie singing Bach and I was a mess. The recording as a whole sounds pretty fabulous too, though it's hard to tell through terrible airplane headphones. Still, it augurs well.

That's all from me. See you in San Francisco.

P.S. I know everyone's linking to this, but just in case by some miracle you've missed it — you need to see this video. As if I needed another reason to adore Debbie Voigt.

Publicity

I have been subsisting on Met and La Scala moviecasts and not much else — plus starting a new job here — which is why proper posts are a bit thin on the ground. I have a few in mind (most of them admittedly centred on Cheryl Barker) but in the meantime, a few bits and pieces elsewhere worth a plug.

A blog
For those who've not found it already, let me point you towards Score Desk, bloghome of CaroNome, "the world's first ever teenage-opera-singing-ballerina-blogger".  With Sieglinde apparently disparu, a couple of other favourites fading away and Parterre populated by some depressingly cynical and nasty commenters, she's a much needed ray of sunshine. Bright, funny and infectiously enthusiastic.

A soprano
I spend enough time chez Opera Australia that I have my favourites not just among the soloists but among the chorus as well. Chief among those is Jane Parkin — sister of the slightly more famous David — who always strikes me as someone who ought to be plucked from that chorus line and given a solo role. She was impressive in the McDonald's Aria finals last year, not just because she sang well (you'd have to figure most of the chorus could do that, or they wouldn't be there) but because her repertoire, her approach and her stage presence were all suggestive of an interesting and individual artist. Plus she's exactly the kind of soprano Opera Australia is serious need of, and thus worth developing. The only evidence I can offer you is this hilarious clip from, of all things, a pop science show. It's at least reflective of her star power, if not perhaps of her vocal abilities.

A recording
The Netrebko-Villazon behemoth hardly needs any marketing assistance from little old me. Just the same, their recently released La bohème is really, really good — and this coming from me, confirmed unfan of La bohème. Inevitably it is The Anna & Rolando Show, not so much an egalitarian ensemble piece, but in fact probably the more thrilling for it. She always seems to sound better with him beside her, he is swoon inducing with or without her and they make a pretty damn appealing couple on record. It's a little odd that Deutsche Grammophon, with its impressive stable of stars, couldn't come up with a more impressive Musetta than Decca's Nicole Cabell, who is outclassed here. Still, this is pretty top notch; it's a Bohème that makes me not detest Bohème, and that's saying something.

A DVD
After last Sunday's Met moviecast, I walked out of the movie theatre, took a bus into the city and immediately bought the DVD of La fille du régiment from the Royal Opera. I needed a permanent souvenir and this is as close as it comes. There are subtle differences between this and the Met incarnation, but it is equally terrific. Natural comedienne that she is, Natalie's improvisations change with every performance; I suspect you could watch her do it twenty times and she'd give you something new in every one. Juan Diego is as exruciatingly talented as ever and just as adorable; he was perhaps in even more fluid voice at the Met, but quite frankly, with Juan Diego, you're just comparing wonderful with wonderful. The only major difference is Dawn French as the Duchesse de Krakenthorp, who is a scream; less haughty than Marian Seldes but much, much funnier.

Moi-même
This is weeks old now, but while I'm promoting things — if you've a desire to read me in slightly more sensible, less overflowing mode, a piece I wrote about the rivalry between Lully and Marc-Antoine Charpentier appeared in Pinchgut Opera's April newsletter, available here. Pinchgut's 2008 production is Charpentier's rarely (ie practically never) performed opera David et Jonathas, which, despite containing far too many boys, promises to be another gorgeous success.

Good news, slightly less than good news

Slightly less than good news first. Via Iron Tongue of Midnight comes word that Ewa Podles has withdrawn from SF Opera's Ariodante. Ewa, don't leave me! Her replacement is none other than Sonia Prina, who sings Orlando for Opera Australia two months later. I've been terribly excited about the chance to hear Sonia over here — international singers at her level are a rare treat in these parts — but in place of Ewa? Not quite the same thing. I'm sure she'll be glorious. But I'd still have loved a chance to hear Ewa, Force of Nature, in person. Oh well.

The good news, however, is that I've had an excellent answer to one of my questions. I asked if anybody who knew who the TBA Rodolfo for the October season of La bohème would be. And, lo and behold, an anonymous comment tells me it will be Carlo Barricelli! This is in fact precisely the answer I'd hoped for. Carlo was seriously impressive in Il tabarro last year and I was very much disappointed by his absence from this year's season. Let's hope subsquent seasons will be able to make even better use of him; but for now, a Rodolfo will do. This boy may just be destined for very very Big Things; a comment on Parterre a little while ago mentioned he'd been covering Rodolfo at the Met, which is a bit impressive. So, looks like I'm off to yet another Bohème. Such is life. Thankyou for the tip, Anonymous!

Various

• Despite appearances, my experience of the La Scala Series La traviata was not All About Angela. There were other things. I liked Ramon Vargas and his voice a lot more in Alfredo than in Rodolfo. (And I liked him well enough there, but his Alfredo was just a bit more mellifluous and a bit more charming and, well, a bit more not La bohème.) Roberto Frontali's Germont père had the easiest flowing sound of the principal trio. The production is super traditional and kind of gorgeous; I liked it — Violetta gets fantastic frocks and I want to live in their country house. The La Scala Series experience is not as glossy or as full of features as the Met in HD moviecasts — sound and picture are both a bit scratchier, there's less sense of the audience, and there are no backstage shots and Conversations With Renée (or equivalent) — but still highly satisfying and, in its no frills way, sometimes a bit more immediate and exciting than the Met series. My hat is off to Greater Union Bondi Junction — screenings are in a smallish theatre, exactly the right size for the audience and for this kind of show. I didn't think any movie theatres still did reserved seating, but they do; seats are more steeply raked and further back from the screen than at the Chauvel, which, coupled with the small size of the theatre, means there are really No Bad Seats. The popcorn is brilliant, none of this upmarket (and admittedly tasty) "popped in olive oil" business like in Paddington; here it's your trademark fake butter flavour and a world of salt. Bought from a gargantuan snack bar.
  
• I don't suppose anybody out there has any idea who's singing Rodolfo for OA when La bohème returns in October? The website is still listing him as TBA. Otherwise it's basically a dream cast — the best people from the two casts we had earlier in the year. Amelia Farrugia as Musetta, José Carbo as Marcello and the scintillating Antoinette Halloran as Mimi. That's probably enough to make me see it again (yes, even though it's Bohème — I'm taking my Antoinette opportunities wherever I get them) but I'd like to know if they'll have a Rodolfo to match. Any clues welcome. Offer them anonymously if you like.
  
• Speaking of the scintillating Antoinette Halloran — any Wellington readers manage to attend her recital in the wonderfully named Sings Wellington series? Gorgeous Lieder in the first half and Poulenc's La voix humaine in the second. If you did — I am jealous. And a little in awe. I think anyone just performing the Poulenc is a bit special, but to do it with piano only and after already having sung the first half of a recital? Wow.
  
• Everything is booked and (touch wood) unjinxable now. So, my official schedule for San Francisco, in case anybody will be there and would like to say hello/stalk me (not so much the latter) is as follows:
  20th June — Lucia di Lammermoor
  21st June — Ariodante
  22nd June — Das Rheingold (matinée)
  23rd June — Lucia (again)
  24th June — death by exhaustion (presumably)

More movies

Have I been living in a cave? I didn't think so, but I'm more than a little surprised I hadn't already heard about this. The "La Scala Series" — cinema presentations of recent productions from La Scala (and a couple from Venice and Florence) — is being screened in a selection of Greater Union cinemas, including one near (well, near enough) me. Why hasn't this been bigger news? Or is it just me? I found out because I've ended up on the mailing list for Opera Queensland and happened to notice an ad for screenings in that state. I followed the link and discovered they're happening in Bondi too.

And they look pretty fantastic. The program detail links on the Greater Union site don't seem to work, but there's more information here, courtesy of the distributor, Arts Alliance Media. My timing is perfect, thank god — I'm just in time for a La traviata this weekend starring none other than the bewildering star of my last post, Angela Gheorghiu. A week ago I might have wished for somebody else but for now her ambiguous fascination holds and I'm curious to see her Violetta. I've seen her famous Covent Garden performance on DVD, but that was years ago, and if I'm completely honest, while I enjoyed it, I wasn't overwhelmed by it the way the rest of the world seems to have been. But now the prospect of Angela is semi-alluring and I suspect that (even if against my will) I might get a bit more of a thrill this time around. Or not, but we'll see.

Also, Maria Stuarda! Which makes me happy in itself but comes with a dynamic duo as a bonus — Mariella Devia as Maria and Anna Caterina Antonacci as Elisabetta. Yes please! Mariella is somebody I forever reading about but haven't yet had an opportunity to enjoy. The darkly fascinating Anna Caterina, meanwhile, is somebody I already know and adore.

There appears to be an Aida featuring Roberto Alagna, which is intriguing. Pre walk-out, presumably. The chance to hear the rest of La rondine appeals; the name Fiorenza Cedolins rings bells, though I'm not sure if they're good bells or bad bells. What else? A Forza conducted by Zubin Mehta, with Violeta Urmana and Marcello Giordano — not bad. Il Trittico, which as far as I can tell may or may not include lovely Barbara Frittoli as Angelica. Paoletta Marrocu, who I remember as a strange and terrifying Lady Macbeth to Thomas Hampson's funny looking (sorry — he did sound wonderful) Macbeth, is Giorgetta in Il tabarro. Those are pretty much the only names I recognise but that's no indicator of anything; in fact much of the appeal here is the chance to hear singers I don't know — one of the disadvantages of living in this half of the planet is that, without travelling, it's hard to know much about anyone without a recording contract. The final production in the series is, lo and behold, a Tristan und Isolde! So unless I finally go and buy myself a recording in between, both my first and my second Tristan will be enhanced by popcorn. Did I mention this one has Waltraud Meier? It does. I like her a lot, based on nothing more substantial than her appearance in James Levine's Anniversary Gala. Michelle DeYoung reappears as Brangäne. Ian Storey is Tristan and I can't shake the feeling that his name should mean something more to me than it does.

Of course, all this does mean that I have to start going to Bondi in my weekends, which doesn't have me wild with joy. But suffering for art is part of the deal.

Elsewhere

Bits and pieces from around the place that need sharing. Nothing blazingly new, so you might have already seen/heard/read it all, but if not, voilà.

• Lord knows I have raved enough about Cheryl Barker here, but rarely have I been able to offer any evidence of her fabulousness to those who haven't had the good fortune to experience her. So now, for any who might have doubted the truth of my words — Musica Viva has posted a short excerpt from her Butterfly for Opera Australia. Watch it and tell me she's not beautiful. Go on, I dare you. Me, I can watch it five times in a row and my knees go weak every time. One week until Arabella opens!
• The link to this video was posted to the Opera Australia Facebook group (the one whose moderator hates this blog was once quite unkind about this blog but evidently [see comments] does not, in fact, hate it). Comedian Rainer Hersch provides surtitles for Carmen. Very clever and very funny.
• Surely anyone who reads this blog must also read the blog of Glorious Joyce DiDonato, where she writes beautifully and posts gorgeous photos. But just in case, a couple of recent favourites of mine that you need to see: I absolutely love this photo (and covet that dress); and I just have to share this admirable sentiment.
• A commenter has pointed out this site, dedicated to Kathleen Battle. It's not an official site, but all the important information is there. It is so nice to see something current, and even nicer to see that my adored Kathy is still performing. I hope her Carnegie Hall recital is wonderful. Her Baroque Duet is on my iPod and it's all I can do not to burst into tears on the ferry to work.
• Vivat Kiri. She's already been taken out of context and vilified, and will no doubt continue to be. But I'm with her all the way. See Ross Browne's comment at the top of this page.
• And of course, since this is one of those posts, the obligatory NatalieTube link: an interview with Laurent Ruquier. If she told me to jump off a bridge, I might just do it; I'm totally under this woman's spell. Oh, and this too. Natalie sings Poulenc! (audio only)
  

Various

• There are more reasons every day for me to love Alice Coote. The latest — her recital on the EMI Début label, released in 2003. I heard this for the first time perhaps a year ago, but only the first half, and I never got to hear it again. This week I bought it at a bargain bin price and swooned anew. I remembered that it was drop dead gorgeous, but remembering that is one thing; drowning in it is another. What perplexes me is that she doesn't appear to have recorded another solo album since this one. She ought. Just for me.
• I'm so devoted. Despite the higher prices (yes, I'm still bitter about that) I went on Monday afternoon to book myself in for second helpings of two operas I don't much like or want to see again, in order to see somebody I do like sing in them. Antoinette in La bohème tomorrow night (and, as a bonus, lovely Taryn Fiebig as Musetta) and Joshua Bloom as Escamillo on the 28th. I really had to push myself into the Carmen — I had at least hoped I could make it to one of the few performances where Joshua and Kirsten Chavez coincide, but they're sold out. (That's Carmen for you. The reviewers — by which I mean The Mighty McCallum and (hah) myself — were not enthusiastic.) However missing out on my third Joshua Bloom Dandini (yes, still bitter about that, too) persuaded me; it will also be nice to see Catherine Carby as Carmen — about time I saw her in a proper role, not the Bela Lugosi role in Streetcar — and Tiffany Speight as Micaela.
• While looking for something else — I forget what now — I stumbled across the information that Opera Australia will stage Fidelio in 2009. That prompted me to do a little more Googling, from which I've gleaned (look away now if you'd prefer to be surprised in August) that the 2009 season will also include Madama Butterfly, a Cav/Pag and an Aida, the last of these with imported principals, which is hardly surprising. There may or may not be a Manon Lescaut. And of course, there's presumably the Dido & Aeneas I posted about the other day, which I'm already breathlessly anticipating.
• I really, really, really like Alice Coote (and I must be a Handel geek, because my brain said Alice but my fingers typed Alcina). I'm listening to the CD while writing. She's too gorgeous to be believed. And this is five years ago. Need. More. Alice.

Saper vorrei

Next month Opera Australia is doing Un ballo in maschera. With the exception of an aria or two, this is an opera with which I am not at all familiar. And so I ask you, dear readers, for advice.

Which recording of Un ballo in maschera would you recommend to a Ballo-beginner such as myself?

Preferably something still in print and reasonably priced — though all suggestions will be considered — and at the risk of being yelled at/politely admonished, there's not much point recommending me the Maria Callas recording of anything. At least not in this kind of situation.

As I say, all suggestions considered. However, having paid a quick visit to Premiere Opera, I have a second, more specific question which is perhaps more to the point:

Do I want the live 1978 Ballo from Covent Garden with Sylvia Sass, José Carreras et al, or the live 1981 Ballo from Covent Garden with Montserrat Caballé, Luciano Pavarotti et al?

My immediate leaning is towards the 1981 recording, but what do I know?

Advise away.

Various

• I had meant to write something about La bohème but other things happened and I didn't. Anyway, it was fine. It was La bohème. Aldo di Toro was lovely, as always, though I have to say, not as blazingly so as in La traviata; José Carbo as Marcello was in fact the star of the evening. I'm still concerned about Amelia Farrugia's apparently non-existent middle-to-lower register. And I still cannot wait for Antoinette Halloran's Mimi; I know, I know, I put myself at risk with such high expectations, but the risk is what makes it so much fun.
• Is 2008 my year for baritones? I saw La cenerentola last night (review for The Opera Critic forthcoming) and as with Bohème, the baritone — Joshua Bloom — stole the show. And it was a pretty fantastic show anyway, but he was just superb in every way. And is most of the reason I'm planning to see it a couple more times. There's probably a longer, rhapsodic post on him in the offing.
• And excuse me for stating the bleeding obvious, but — Lorraine Hunt Lieberson = perfection. I've been listening to her for several years, her Handel CD is on my iPod, it's not as if she's a new discovery, so this is nothing I didn't theoretically already know. But somehow in the last week I've begun to truly feel it in my bones. Thank god she's already been written about so beautifully by far better writers than myself, because I wouldn't know where to start. But wow.

Two thousand and eight

Typically at the beginning of a new year I start thinking about what I'm looking forward to. And generally speaking, the events I expect will be the greatest, the most exciting, the most important, turn out to be nothing of the sort, and the true highlights come from unexpected quarters. Not that my poor success rate prevents me predicting. So.

I expect The Makropulos Secret (as Opera Australia has chosen to translate the title) to be one of the Events of the year, even though it comes quite close to the end of the season. I expect not to attend My Fair Lady, but am grateful to it for funding things like the Janacek and Billy Budd. I expect as well that I'll love Billy Budd more than I think I will, too; no sopranos, it's true, but it is Britten after all. I very much hope that Rachelle Durkin, as both Donna Anna and Angelica, will live up to the stratospheric standard I've set based on her gorgeous Alcina. And I expect to fall in love, either again or for the first time, with at least one opera which right now I think myself immune to.

In the world outside the Opera House, I plan to spend more time with Mirella Freni, Patrizia Ciofi and the works (in every genre) of Francis Poulenc. I may or may not pursue Felicity Lott further. Natalie just happens, so no need to expect or resolve anything there. One of the most exciting musical events on my horizon is actually not operatic or even vocal: a visit in October from the fabulous Angela Hewitt, part of her Bach World Tour. The Musica Viva recital featuring Cheryl Barker, Peter Coleman-Wright and Piers Lane (and, apparently, a gigantic swan) looks pretty irresistible too. And I resolve to acquire a cat.

And 2008 will bring a few changes in this blog too. You may or may not recall, I began an experiment some months ago, establishing a second blog devoted exclusively to Opera Australia. It's been mildly successful, but not enough so to merit its separate existence, so it's being incorporated into this blog, meaning, in short, more Sydney content here. At the same time, there will be fewer actual reviews: beginning with La boheme tomorrow night (well technically tonight) I'll be reviewing Sydney performances for The Opera Critic. So that's where the reviews will be. But I've no doubt I'll still find plenty to write (read: bleat on) about here. There may be a few other changes here and there, but they're still in the planning stages, and none are drastic.

Is that everything? Not by a long shot, I shouldn't think. However it's all the occurs to me for now; and I have the rest of the year to remember the rest.

Two thousand and seven

Quelle surprise! A year-in-review post.

Best live performance

For the first time, I actually have a great deal to choose from. This was my first year of frequent and regular operagoing, when all it took to get to an opera house was busfare, not a plane ticket and a hotel. In terms of excellence across the board, I think I have to pick Rusalka as the highlight from Opera Australia. The opera was revelation to me, the performance woke me up to the talents of Cheryl Barker and even despite a couple of serious flaws (Jezibaba's laboratory and white coat, for instance) it remains a seriously good-looking and striking production. Alcina deserves honourable mention also, another impressive production with Rachelle Durkin ferociously fabulous in the title role; if only every other role had been cast as strongly. And kudos to Moffatt Oxenbould's Il trittico which has stood the test of time, fresher and brighter than its age might suggest, and adorned with a radiant Cheryl Barker as all three heroines. Of course there is more to Sydney than Opera Australia (just). Philippe Jaroussky's concerts with the Brandenburg Orchestra were baroque bliss. I enjoyed a trip to the Kangaroo Valley Arts Festival for a recital by the one and only Yvonne Kenny, above all for the opportunity to hear once more her performance of Liszt's "Der du von dem Himmel bist". The first time I ever heard Yvonne in recital (two and a half years ago now) she sang this and I nearly blacked out (seriously); this time I kept my composure and revelled in the total beauty of her singing, which is like nothing else in my life. Best of all in 2007, however, was the Sydney Symphony's performance of Mozart's Mass in C Minor, an exquisite and deeply moving musical experience which I shan't ever forget.

Best on record

Three new releases this year stand out for me. Sandrine Piau's collection of German and French songs, Evocation, is a pleasure which everyone deserves to enjoy. Perhaps the most personal and intimate of Sandrine's solo releases, her usual pyrotechnics replaced by a depth and radiance of expression which is no less breathtaking. Carolyn Sampson's Purcell disc, Victorious Love, is another must have for those with ears, a candy shop of a CD - every track a delectable (and yet calorie-free!) treat. The third is a disc I haven't written about here, mostly because it's a very difficult one to write about, but it's perhaps the most extraordinary CD I heard all year: Terezin/Theresienstadt, a selection of music written in Terezin concentration camp, performed by Anne Sofie von Otter and friends. There is no way in the world to write in a normal way about a project like this, but it is a truly amazing recording, in terms of historical interest, musical values and devastating emotional content.

Discoveries

Quite a few this year, but again three of particular significance. In January I found Carolyn Sampson via Rameau, was immediately bewitched and have only grown more so. Frankly I find it hard to fathom that the person who has this voice just walks around, existing like any normal human being; and meanwhile she has the ability to make that sound. Incredible. Then there was the totally divine Mirella Freni, who caught me off guard in a Best of Puccini collection and has yet to release her grip. The third, if you hadn't guessed, was of course Cheryl Barker, one of the hugest changes of heart I've experienced. From inexplicable indifference I moved to slightly begrudging admiration and then, courtesy of Il trittico, to abject devotion.

Rediscovery

2007 was also a year for rekindling old affections. My love for Kathleen Battle has never waned, as such, but this year was stronger than ever. Likewise Barbara Bonney, who has never sounded lovelier to me than she has this year. And after a worrying period of ambivalence, I returned, thanks to her incredible disc Maria, to one of my very first loves, the unique, wonderful and probably insane Cecilia Bartoli.

Other stuff

Naturally I continued this year to adore and venerate the miraculous Natalie Dessay, and remain very very grateful to the YouTube user who managed to post footage of the Mad Scene from her Met Lucia barely a day after it opened. Pinchgut's Juditha triumphans was a fantastic pre-Christmas treat, with the particular thrill of Fiona Campbell's out-of-this-world "Armatae face et anguibus". I was amused by the brief flurry of attention I received from a Vittorio Grigolo fan club message board after giving him a less than great review for his performance in Rossini's Stabat Mater. One of the most entertaining nights of the year was the Sydney Symphony's concert performance of Isaac Nathan's rightly obscure Don John of Austria, mostly lacking musical merit but a gorgeous vehicle for gorgeous Cheryl, and pretty hilarious too. Two loves of my life came together when I had the immense joy of hearing Yvonne Kenny sing Strauss' Four Last Songs with the Australia Ensemble. And on the second-to-last day of the year, I attended my first Met cinema broadcast, an excellent Roméo et Juliette and a sign that these broadcasts will continue to be a source of great pleasure.

But above all else

In my mind, 2007 will remain The Year of Streetcar. I started preparing for this months before it was announced. I bought the play a week before the press release. I bought the recording eleven months before the premiere and listened and listened and listened. And read, and thought, and wrote. A couple of posts turned into a vast series, a track-by-track dissection of the opera. Naturally it was about Blanche, one of the most taxing roles Yvonne Kenny has ever taken on. By the time I saw the first performance, I knew most of her words. By the end, when I'd seen it eight times, I knew all of her words and, in a rough kind of way, her music too. I still do. I won't claim it was Yvonne's greatest role but it was nevertheless an extraordinary triumph for her, a demonstration of her talent, her musical intelligence and her personal strength. And I won't claim that I love A Streetcar Named Desire, nor that I ever desire to hear it again. But I've never approached any opera the way I did Streetcar, and that intense immersion will remain my most enduring impression of 2007.

Curiosities

• An interesting (read: seriously weird) juxtaposition. Lucy Shelton singing David del Tredici's bizarre, atonal and often hilarious "Vintage Alice" (set for soprano, two saxophones, mandolin, banjo, accordion and chamber ensemble) followed immediately by Elena Souliotis crashbanging her way through Anna Bolena's "O dolce guidami" and some Big Verdi. Frankly, Elena is jarring enough (though not without a thrill or three) without the added confusion of listening when my brain was still in del Tredici mode.
• I haven't listened to it yet. But as it was 1. appealing and 2. a serious bargain, I've bought a copy of Kent Nagano's recording of the French version of Salome. I probably should own a copy of the German version before trying this one out, but too late. It looks intriguing, and contains José van Dam, which is always a plus.
• Very very bored yesterday afternoon, I amused myself by typing "O mio babbino caro" into iTunes, removing the Artist field from the results and listening at random to see who I could pick from the hundreds of recordings. Mirella was lovely to hear, Rita Streich adorable and Angela Gheorghiu surprisingly appealing. But oh my there are a lot of nowhere-near-ready sopranos with CDs available for purchase, recordings which display huge vibratos and minimal personality. And then there's the truly terrifying Aria Tesolin. Google her. I daren't link. You Have Been Warned. (Hint: she's also known as "Baby Soprano".)
• I have a CD released by Etcetera in 1987. I've always been struck by the warts-and-all sound of it — you can hear the soprano's every breath and gulp, you can hear exactly how much air is being expelled and when, you can more or less hear how every syllable is being produced. Fascinating, but mercilessly exposed; thankfully for her, she comes through it pretty well, but others wouldn't. Then last night, when all was silence, I listened to it on headphones and realised the first time just how much background noise has been picked up. I'm used to the odd tap and click, a page being turned and so on. But on this recording I can hear church bells, a child shouting and incessantly chirping birds. All in all, I think if you'd recorded these songs in a single take on a summer day in a practice room with the window open, and released them without much further production, you'd achieve the same effect. What I wonder is why? I have a couple of other Etcetera records from around the same time, neither of which display similar oddities. And it's not that I mind; actually I rather love that feeling of reality and intimacy, but it's not something I've noticed elsewhere, and it does seem strange, so I do sort of wonder why it happened.

Katya, quickly

A note to those with a love of Janacek, or of Cheryl Barker, or just a love of a good bargain (I answer to all three) — the Chandos Opera in English recording of Katya Kabanova, with Cheryl in the title role and Carlo Rizzi conducting the Orchestra of the Welsh National Opera, is currently to be had from iTunes (from the Australian store, at least) for the unfathomable price of $13.99. This set retails for around $60 in stores so this is an incredibly good deal. Mine's downloading as I type, needless to say.

Ticket

Last year when single ticket sales opened for the 2007 Opera Australia season, I celebrated by frightening the woman at the box office with my request for seven tickets to A Streetcar Named Desire. This time around, I've marked the occasion in rather more restrained fashion — just one single solitary ticket. It's for Orlando, starring Sonia Prina and Rachelle Durkin. I figured, based on past behaviour, that this is the production I'm mostly likely to want to see a ridiculous number of times, so I might as well start preparing now.

Besides, it helped ever so slightly to dull the pain of knowing that, as I bought said ticket, a theatre full of unbelievably fortunate people were watching Rachelle sing Alcina — and I wasn't there. I'm unspeakably jealous of all of them; including a member of my own family, who has been receiving death threats from me this week because of it.

Anyway. One ticket bought. If I were rich like Scrooge McDuck, I'd probably just have gone ahead and bought out the entire runs of Arabella, Otello, Vec Makropulos and Orlando, not to mention the first eight performances of Don Giovanni and all of Antoinette Halloran's Mimis. But one's a start; and now the anticipation can officially begin.

Elsewhere

• English National Opera's new The Turn of the Screw is getting raves everywhere; it features my current grande passion, Cheryl Barker, as Miss Jessel, which is why I've noticed them. But oh, it makes me jealous, in several directions at once. The Turn of the Screw is right near the top of the list of operas I'd like to see here; having Cheryl in it would just be icing on the sinister and ambiguous cake.
• Have I mentioned I'm in love with Soho the Dog? First for the wonderful "Strauss and Mahler Re-enact Your Favorite Movie Moments" series (now available on a t-shirt near you), more recently for this loving appreciation of maybe my favourite composer and, above all, for this. Usually I'm a cat person, but I'll make an exception.
• One of my other favourite blogs these days is The Concert. The account of the rise and rise of ACB is a joyous and fascinating thing to read. Lately she's been singing Barbarina at the Met, a little Mozartean pearl of a role, small but with an aria which is one of my all time favourites. ACB's wit and warmth on all subjects, operatic and otherwise, are always a very happy part of my blogreading day; and what else can you do but grin at a remark about "the motivation that comes from being tested on your Susanna recits by a certain baritone currently singing Figaro"?
• I saw the news first via Sounds and Fury and then chez The Rest Is Noise — tomorrow Deutsche Grammophon launches what sounds like an incredible online download service. I'm just waiting for the catch; no doubt, knowing my luck, it'll be off limits for this hemisphere. The fact that I spoke to a rep from Universal Music today who knew nothing about it is slightly worrying. Still, my fingers are crossed (and my bank account is quaking in its boots).
• Some time ago 2MBS, Sydney's fine (meaning classical, jazz, blues, world and weird)music radio station launched several blogs. I've at long last added their classical music blog to my blogroll and take this opportunity to recommend it. Fun aplenty, and spectacles to boot.

Playlist 25/11/07

—"Ah, mio cor." Handel Arias. (ABC Classics, 1997)
—"O voi che penate". Handel: Xerxes. (Young Opera, Sydney, 1972)
—"For time is a mysterious thing." Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier. (Chandos Opera in English, 1999)
—"L'ho perduta". Mozart: Le nozze di Figaro. (Decca, 1982)
—Kern: "The Way You Look Tonight." Make Believe. (ABC Classics, 2001)
—Walton: "Under the Greenwood Tree". Walton & Lambert Songs. (Etcetera, 1992)
—Schubert: "Ständchen". Simple Gifts. (ABC Classics, 1993)
—"L'amero, saro costante". Mozart Arias. (Sony, 1993)
—Delius: "I-Brasil". Delius Songs. (Hyperion, 2007)
—Schubert: "Frühlingsglaube". Wigmore Hall Recital. (Etcetera, 1984)
—"How beautiful it is..." Britten: The Turn of the Screw. (ABC broadcast, 2002)
—IV: Lento. Vaughan Williams: A Pastoral Symphony. (Chandos, 1988)
—"Ama ed amato io sono". Bellini: Zaira. 100 Years of Italian Opera, 1820-1830. (Opera Rara, 1997)
—"Perchè non ho del vento". Donizetti: Rosmonda d'Inghilterra. (Opera Rara, 1975)
—Hahn: "A Chloris". A Touch of Venus. (ABC broadcast, 2006)
—"Porgetemi la spada". Cavalli: La Didone. (Deutsche Harmonia Mundi, 1998)
—Porter: "So in Love". Great Operatic Arias. (Chandos Opera in English, 1999)
—"Oh my love, my only love...love you". Poulenc: La voix humaine. (ABC broadcast, 2005)
—"I want magic!" Previn: A Streetcar Named Desire. (Imprinted upon my memory, 2007)
—"Ah, mio cor". Handel Arias. (ABC Classics, 1997)

Buon compleanno. 

!!!!!!!!

The Sydney Morning Herald has made my day, week and year with this wonderful, wonderful news. The Met's HD cinema broadcasts are coming to Australia. My cup runneth over. They begin on Dcember 29th with Roméo & Juliette starring Anya and whichever Romeo it was on that occasion Alagna. Later, there's Karita in Manon Lescaut, and beautiful Deborah Voigt in Tristan & Isolde — which will be my first Tristan ever. But best of all, by miles and miles and miles...my number one boy and my number one girl, Juan Diego and Natalie, in La fille du régiment. I'm deliriously happy. I cannot wait.

Update: There's a website devoted to the Met in Australia here. It includes the broadcast operas not listed in the SMH article, including a La bohème. I guess if anything's ever going to convert me to The Way of Angela, that might be it. And I finally get to see Patricia Racette! Of course the obsessive fan in me is also excited by the fact that each broadcast will be screened twice. Two Tristans in as many days? Maybe. I'm off to buy my season pass tomorrow. 

Awards
My plea failed. As did half a dozen phonecalls. So no Mathy Awards for me. However, I am overjoyed and gratified to learn that first prize was taken out by the sublime Emily Blanch. Emily was far and away my favourite in the semi finals, with an indecently gorgeous voice and bucketloads of star potential. She was also runner up in the Herald Sun Aria a few days ago. This is all excellent news — I have high hopes for Emily. And besides, she needs to have a big career so I can have more chances to hear her. As bad luck would have it, I won't even be able to listen to the broadcast of last night's final. Woe is me.

New arrival
I have a new toy. After a year of withdrawal symptoms, last week I bought myself a piano. Not a great one, not an expensive one (the delivery cost more than the piano itself). It makes some dodgily twangy sounds, and boasts a highly unpredictable E and F# in the middle, not to mention a non existent G much further down. Oh but it is wonderful to have a piano again. Neighbours beware.

Question
Minor issue, but can any readers in the States or elsewhere hazard a guess as to why, a few days ago, this site received a string of Google referrals for searches along the lines of "parsifal non speaking role"? I can't figure it out. Is it being performed somewhere? Was it broadcast? And why does everybody suddenly care about the non speaking role? (I assume they mean Kundry?) I don't suppose this is vital knowledge, but it's bugging me. 

A plea

It's my own stupid fault. I left it much too late to buy a ticket to the Mathy Singing Awards Final at Verbrugghen Hall on Monday November 5th, and now it's sold out. And I'm desolate and desperate. So if by any fantastical miracle, somebody out there reads this before Monday evening and has a ticket they don't need, please please please let me know. Leave a comment, or email me. I will PAY. I suspect I'm out of luck here, but I'd love to be wrong about that.

Zu jeglicher Stunde

Lachen...

Norman Lebrecht is not my favourite person. He has dismissed me generally, as a music blogger (and apparently therefore lacking both credibility and any semblance of a valid opinion worthy of expression beyond my own living room) and specifically — if unwittingly and not entirely maliciously — as "an opera lover in Dunedin, New Zealand...where a Renée Fleming album is a surrogate for life." I objected on both counts. And so it was, I confess, with a little cackle of schadenfreude that I received (grazie, Sounds & Fury) this slightly splendid piece of news, which has already done the blogosphere rounds. All the more so because Naxos is a label I have a lot of time, respect and affection for.

...und Weinen

Also going around the blogosphere to a certain extent is a meme, which I came to via Iron Tongue of Midnight. Which musical moments make you cry? As I can't resist a meme, here a just a few (very few) of mine:

• That bit (you know which bit I mean) in Beim Schlafengehen.
• Judy's "Battle Hymn of the Republic"
• The piano introduction to Hahn's "A Chloris"
• The Contessa's "Più docile io sono, e dico di sì" at the end of Figaro.
• Rosenkavalier Act III trio, of course.
• Desdemona's A# when she sings "Ah! Emilia, Emilia, addio" which I've learnt is not the wisest thing to listen to on headphones in public places.
• More than anything else, "Mache dich, mein Herze, rein" which upsets me so much I actually tend to avoid it. But it is beautiful beyond words.

Various

Bel oiseau

iTunes was playing its way randomly through my library in another room. I passed, caught a phrase or two. My brain was in bel canto fog and didn't pick the tune immediately; my first thought, though, was "Mirella, you really are one of my very favourites." Then it played a little further and I realised it was not Mirella. No, the voice to which I was melting belonged to none other than the oh-so-lovely Anne Carolyn Bird, prima donna della blogosfera. The aria in question: "Regnava nel silenzio", to be found at her official website. You want to hear it.

Meanwhile

Mirella really is becoming one of my serious favourites. A biggish claim to make when I still only own the one CD but more will come. And even if not, it's quality and not quantity which counts; each aria alone merits deep devotion. And another for whom my esteem grows daily is Pilar Lorengar, whose "Glück das mir verblieb" knocked me sideways when it came up on shuffle.

Brand new

To me, at least. But let me tentatively say that, having heard her CD all of once, Elin Manahan Thomas is a delight. The packaging is reminiscent of that other blonde Welsh girl who calls herself a classical singer but the difference could not be more vast. Elin, for a start, can actually sing. Quite beautifully, too, which is another point of difference. If everyone planning to buy their loved ones the other Welsh blonde's Christmas album this year chose to buy Elin's Eternal Light instead, we might just have a shot at turning the tide of all this woeful crossover schlock. Or not, but it would still be nice.

Wie ein Wunder vor mir

The Four Last Songs are one of the (very) few pieces of music which I learnt not via recordings but taught myself on the piano. That's where I fell in love with them too. Because of that, because I worked hard to understand them and then had the joy of watching them blossom for me, and because they are so mindblowingly beautiful, they mean more to me than perhaps any other music. And because of the way I learned them, though I have heard them sung since (but only on CD and never live), they exist for me apart from any specific voice except perhaps, in some strange way, my own. But tonight I hear them performed live for the very first time, and given voice by the best conceivable person for the job. Indeed, the only person it could ever have been. Yvonne sings my first Last Songs tonight.

Quiz

Seems like ages since a decent meme floated my way, and I love a good quiz, so I thought I might as well take on the one which has been posted chez Soho the Dog. Everyone there has managed far cleverer responses than mine, but no matter.

1. What's the best quotation of a piece of music within another piece of music?

"God Save the Queen" in Roberto Devereux is my favourite musical quotation at the moment. I just re-watched the DVD (with Beverly Sills — I swear, one of the most incredible performances by anyone ever) and had forgotten about the overture. I especially like anachronism of it — "God Save the Queen" was of course never sung for Elizabeth I.

2. Name the best classical crossover album ever made.

This all depends on your definition of crossover. If it counts, then I nominate Juan Diego Florez's Sentimiento Latino, which I absolutely love. Another favourite of mine is, of course, Yvonne Kenny's lovely Make Believe — the only soprano-does-Broadway excursion I have much time for.

3. Great piece with a terrible title.

Mein Herze schwimmt in Blut. This is either a terrible title or a great one, but either way it's a bit gruesome.

4. If you had to choose: Benjamin Britten or Michael Tippett?

No question. Benjamin Britten. For the Burns Songs, for The Turn of the Screw, for the String Quartets and for a hundred other things besides.

5. Who's your favorite spouse of a composer/performer?

Lady Susana Walton.

6. Terrible piece with a great title.

Emilia di Liverpool. To tell the truth, I wouldn't call this a terrible piece — but it is a great title. The opera is really just odd. Donizetti wrote it for a theatre which had a mandatory buffo basso — so it's half serious and half comic. Emilia herself maintains opera seria dignity, but she's surrounded by characters who sound like they've wandered in from L'elisir d'amore. The result is slightly reminiscent of Ariadne auf Naxos. And despite the title, the opera isn't really set in Liverpool but somewhere vaguely European and Alpine. It's not exactly memorable; but I love the title.

7. What's the best use of a classical warhorse in a Hollywood movie?

"Sull'aria" in The Shawshank Redemption, if you can call that a warhorse.

8. Name the worst classical crossover album ever made.

Where do I begin? In terms of classical singers recording outside their repertoire — I am not a fan of Kiri's show tunes. If we're talking about pop singers having a bash at classical repertoire, then Classical Barbra, Classically Sedaka and Michael Bolton's opera album all frighten me, though the only one I've heard any of is Barbra's. I'm exasperated by the syrupy phenomenon of André R*** (no surname, to avoid Google hits) whose DVDs I sell in vast quantities every day. Even worse are the "opera singers" with no claim to the title — Andrea B***elli, Katherine J*nk*ns and Il D*vo. But perhaps the worst of them all is a recent release and bestseller called One Chance, recorded by TV talent quest winner P*ul P*tts. The success of mediocre, quasi-classical singing is depressing enough; but this is just plain bad singing and it still does a hundred times better than the real thing.

9. If you had to choose: Sam Cooke or Marvin Gaye?
Believe it or not, I can actually answer this. Sam Cooke. Yes, really.

10. Name a creative type in a non-musical medium who would have been a great composer.
Tennessee Williams. There's such music in his words anyway — not to mention actual music in his plays. Streetcar is full of it. I'd love to hear a Streetcar opera by the man himself; he'd easily outdo Previn's setting.

EXTRA CREDIT:

For opera nerds: If you had to choose:
a) Lawrence Tibbett or Robert Merrill?
Robert Merrill.
b) Amelita Galli-Curci or Lily Pons?
Lily Pons.

For early-music nerds: Name a completely and hopelessly historically uninformed recording that you nevertheless love.

How about Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and Irmgard Seefriend singing Monteverdi on their Duets CD, with Gerald Moore at the piano. I didn't even recognise it as Monteverdi the first time I heard it, and it's a million miles from the Monteverdi of Paul McCreesh and Alan Curtis and René Jacobs and so on — but it's gorgeous. 

Trio

I absorbed Don Giovanni half by accident, preparing for the 2005 NZ Opera production. All I'd really meant to do was familiarise myself with the music, but in the end I listened to my still-beloved Giulini recording so many times that the whole opera just became a permanent part of my consciousness. I realised I could follow it line by line without surtitles, something which I've since set out to do in preparation for other operas but which in that instance wasn't really intentional. Now, there have been other operas I've fixated upon and become deeply and intimately acquainted with, which have in time faded away a little. But not Don Giovanni. It stays and stays and so it should. And I'm never tired of it. Sometimes I need time away from Figaro but not from Don Giovanni. I'm still astonished by it every time. It's extraordinary in terms of Mozart and in terms of opera in general — in terms of music in general. Hell, in terms of everything. Am I getting carried away. Maybe; but maybe not. Anyway, without my even trying, it's a fixture in my life. Which is why I find myself this weekend with not one, not two, but three Don Giovannis (Don Giovannii?) worthy of comment. As follows.

Giovanni Past

Not the hugely distant past. It's a live recording by Radio France from 2000 — Daniel Harding leads the Mahler Chamber Orchestra. I picked this up second hand some time ago but only this week have I actually listened to it. Initially I was slightly terrified; this is the overture as I'd never heard it before. Fast. I mean, I've heard it fast before but never this fast. Tempi are quick throughout, though not always quite so shocking. And while it threw me to begin with, there's something in this approach. Speedy, yes — but not rushed, not blurry. It's really rather thrilling. All the dark scary colours I like in a Don Giovanni are there and the urgency of the playing actually makes them a bit scarier. The cast isn't too shabby either. The main draw for me was of course the always terrific Véronique Gens as Donna Elvira. As far as my sensibilities are concerned, that's ideal casting. I know some might prefer a bit more Spanish fury from their Elvira but Véronique is the mistress of righteous indignation and dignified anger and that's what I want in Elvira. It makes her less a laughing stock. Also turning in a remarkable performance is Mark Padmore is Don Ottavio. That unmistakeable, vaguely melancholy sound of his makes Don Ottavio a surprisingly interesting presence. Carmela Remigio is a little less inspiring as Anna, though there's a truly fierce "giura" in her vengeance duet with Ottavio which I love. These are all the very first of first impressions. I need more time with this one. But I like it.

Giovanni Present

At last, after Cosi, Figaro and La clemenza di Tito, René Jacobs has taken on the Don. According to M. Jacobs, "the original was falsified in the nineteenth century and the public often knows only this adulterated version."  So he's fixed it. All I've heard of this recording — which Harmonia Mundi releases next month — is the preview disc, a selection of highlights. It's a slightly odd selection, and for some unknown reason, the excerpts are presented out of order. Also, by way of disclaimer: I've been obliged to listen to it on an absolutely woeful sound system — really more like half a sound system. But despite those drawbacks, it's intriguing. The overture is even more frightening than Harding's, and there are other oddities too — which is only to be expected, given the approach he's taken. In truth it's hard for me to tell which oddities are in the recording and which are the product of the terrible speakers; but in any case none of them are jarring or objectionable. Jacobs' cast is mostly pretty excellent. Not as starry as the Cosi or the Figaro, but still quite impressive. Alexandrina Pendatchanska as Donna Elvira is a standout, significantly better than when I heard her sing the role in London — and she wasn't bad then. Olga Pasichnyk is a somewhat lifeless Donna Anna based on the extracts but may well become fascinating elsewhere. Sunhae Im sounded like  a lost Zerlina as Servilia in Jacobs' Clemenza, so predictably she's rather more at home here. There's not really enough of Giovanni himself in these highlights to say much about him, but in what there is, Johannes Weisser makes the right kind of impression; and if nothing else, he definitely screams well. Of course Lorenzo Regazzo is spot on as Leporello. I don't know whether this Giovanni is going to be as gloriously revelatory as Jacobs' Figaro — I've a suspicion it might irritate a few people — but it's definitely different. I'm looking forward very much to hearing the whole thing, and hearing it properly. Whether I'll fall for it or not I don't know, but it's absolutely worth pursuing.

Giovanni Yet To Come

Opera Australia's 2008 season, which was announced on Friday, includes a rather promising looking Don Giovanni. By which I really mean — Terrifying Rachelle is in it and therefore I'm exceedingly happy. I had wondered if Donna Anna might be one of the two unnamed roles on her website's 2008 schedule and sure enough it is. I cannot wait. Just the thought of it sends shivers down my spine. I'm apparently destined always to focus on Anna. My first Don Giovanni was all about Patricia Wright's Anna; my second had Patrizia Ciofi in the role. Fine with me. It's meant I know Anna's music better even than the rest of the opera, so hearing Terrifying Rachelle sing it will be glorious. And she only sings the first eight performances of the run. I wonder how many I can take. There are other people in it too of course, including the amazing Joshua Bloom as Leporello and one Gabor Bretz (whoever he might be) as Giovanni. Can boys distract me from Terrifying Rachelle, though? Not likely.

Various

• How's this for delayed response? Way back in 2004 I declared myself in the early stages of liking Pilar Lorengar a lot. And then nothing happened. I did nothing about her. But yesterday, at last, I actually bought myself a Pilar Lorengar CD — Prima Donna in Vienna. And what do you know? I was right. I do like her a lot. Apart from anything else, I think she sings "Dove sono" the way I have always imagined it and never actually heard it — the closest version by a proper to singer to what's in my head if I play it on the piano.
• And that reminds me. The Pilar CD is one of the Classic Recitals series — gorgeous little digipacks with original album art. There's another in the series which I rediscovered a while ago. Gwyneth Jones. Oh my. I bought this some time ago, listened to it once or twice and never followed through. But I had the opportunity to play it at work, on serious speakers, and that made all the difference. I love her. I mean, I did anyway on account of her Marschallin on film but that's more to do with her presence than the sounds she makes. But the sounds, on this CD, are pretty damned fantastic too.
• Have I mentioned lately that I'm totally head over heels for Natalie Dessay? Yes? Her Lucie de Lammermoor blew me away — and I was expecting her to be, well, Natalie, but she still surprised me. Pity about Alagna, but then one endures such things for One's Diva. (Which she is, by the way. My Diva. I think. If I have one, then she's it.)
• In a vague attempt to make OperaChic jealous — I sat in the presence of Teddy Tahu Rhodes for two hours yesterday, and you didn't. (At the Friends of the Opera "Insights" event for Streetcar). I'm going to see him as Stanley seven times, and you aren't. Of course none of this really works because we all know my interests lie elsewhere.
• Speaking of Streetcar — and when am I not? — the dress rehearsal is tomorrow morning and thus I suppose marks the official beginning of my mois blanche. I've been desperately overanalysing this opera, more even than I did La voix humaine, but rather than inflict it all on you, the dissection has its own page here. The plan is to have it finished by opening night. We shall see.
• This dress rehearsal — and the whole season — will be interesting. I'm prepared for the possibility that tomorrow morning might just be the most intense musical experience of my life. I've been immersed in this opera for eight or nine months. I don't love it, at least not as music. But I've been fascinated by it all the same, for various reasons — fascinated enough to write what's currently roughly akin in length to an Honours dissertation on the subject. And it's been under my skin all this time. Longer. I started anticipating this opera back as early as March last year, months before it was announced — I just knew it would happen. And now it's going to happen. At the aforementioned Insights event — where the cast and the director spoke about the show — Stuart Skelton sang Mitch's aria, and even that (which I actually have issues with) just about did me in. As I say, I don't love the opera. I'm not even sure how much I like it. But the fact remains that I probably know it better now than any opera I do love, and seeing it brought to life is going to be quite an experience.
• This post probably isn't a very bullet point post after all. But they're there now.   

Happiness

• Turning the radio on late one night and discovering a ravishing Barbara Bonney in a recording of Acis and Galatea (auf Deutsch) which I never even knew she'd made.
• More revelatory Barbara — hearing her disc of operetta arias for the first time in a couple of years and realising it's about a million times more gorgeous than I'd thought. The sort of thing I could just play on loop all day.
• Mirella's Juliette. Mirella's Liu. Mirella's Marguerite. Mirella.
• Seven front row seats booked nine months ago for a show which has now — deservedly — sold out.
• Ten dollars for Natalie's Vocalises.
  
• Lucia Popp in Strauss lieder, half-hidden away at the end of a Margaret Price CD. "Schlagende Herzen" in liquid gold.
• Joyce. On stage, on record, on her blog and in the news — via singing'rin — that she's been signed by Virgin Classics. May I please sign up now for absolutely everything she ever chooses to release? There's even to be (swoon) an Alcina (!) for (another swoon) Alan Curtis.
• Waiting for Barbiere to start, gazing idly into the stalls from my D-Reserve loge seat and all of a sudden realising — I know that jaw. That's Joan Sutherland. 

More Grace

I'm determined to be good and keep this Grace Bumbry revival going, so tonight is disc two — Verdi, Wagner and Brahms. The Verdi is interesting. Because most of time I'm not really a Verdi girl. Well that's not exactly true, because I do love it. I just love other parts of the repertoire even more. The baroque and I, for instance, are soulmates. Verdi and I, on the other hand, are the most part just very good friends. Except when I'm indifferent (that bizarre "Rataplan" bit in Forza for example) or when I declare certain passages among the most beautiful music in creation (Desdemona's Willow Song and Ave Maria; the final act prelude in La traviata). But because I was so obsessed with Grace and listened to this CD so much — sometimes I really couldn't begin my day without a fix of her Lady Macbeth — there are certain Verdi arias which are as deeply impressed upon my brain as, say, Sesto's "Parto, parto", or the entire role of Aspasia. Without Grace, I would probably have no more than a passing acquaintance with "Stride la vampa", which would normally be just a bit much for my delicate sensibilities. It isn't repertoire which, theoretically, I'm temperamentally suited to. But because there was (and is) Grace, well, it's all different. I know it inside out. I hum it to myself (or used to) and when I hear it sung by someone else, I greet it as an old friend.

As I did this afternoon, listening to the first half of a live Trovatore from Salzburg. The one with the cast so perfect it hurts. Leontyne Price, Giulietta Simionato, Franco Corelli and so on. I bought it secondhand for $10. Although slightly accidentally. What I thought I was buying was a studio recording — still with Leontyne — since that's what the cover indicated. Once I had it home I realised the truth. Whoever owned it previously had evidently lost the original cover — or just didn't like it — and decided to replace it with one from the studio recording; with everyone's name but Leontyne's blacked out. Glued to the back, a pin up of Corelli, cut out by hand. Sort of adorable, really. But of course this is hardly what you'd call an accident; I'm more than happy to own this recording instead as it's (of course) totally brilliant. Leontyne as always is a goddess. Franco is Franco. I won't go on because it's all so self-evident; you look at the cast and even their names on the page seem to radiate greatness.

Since I started this post the Verdi has finished. The Wagner excerpts too — a tiny, tantalising taste of her Venus in Tannhauser. So as I write, it's Brahms. And as much as I remember about this CD, I think nevertheless I had forgotten how sweet and lovely this part of it is. You'd hardly think that, just moments ago, it was the same woman spitting bile as Lady Macbeth — and now she's just as ideal here in art song tranquillity. But then, as a protegée of Lotte Lehmann, of course she's going to be a perfect Lieder singer. But oh my, this really is even lovelier than I recalled. Or maybe it's not that. Maybe it's me — maybe my appreciation for this sort of music has deepened in the time since I last heard Grace sing it. Either way this is a total dream. This is turning into liveblogging. I began this post with no intention to rhapsodize about her Brahms but how could I not? I think I remember thinking the same thing way back when — how can she be so thoroughly suited to the blood and thunder Italian repertoire, and ring out over vast orchestras, and then absolutely own these quiet, lyrical songs as well? There's just as much warmth, and she's just as captivating, but she scales down her forces to just the right size. I do love this voice. I've been missing the exciting operatic stuff but now that I'm here, I think this time around it's the Lieder I'm in love with. I guess it's as I said before. Whatever the musical pleasure you're seeking, Grace can probably provide it, in her own inimitable and entrancing style.

Split personality

An announcement. With this post, I'm officially launching a new, shiny and still experimental second blog, devoted exclusively to Opera Australia related topics. Prima la musica as it is won't particularly be changing; but now the specifically Sydney focused stuff will have a blog to itself. As I say, it's an experiment. Hopefully it will prove a successful one. Who'll read it and who won't remains to be seen, but everyone everywhere is welcome, whether in Sydney themselves or on the outside looking in.

So with that, I invite all who read here to pay Soggiorno Amoroso (located at http://primalamusica.typepad.com/operaaustralia if anyone feels inclined to blogroll it) a visit. The paint's still wet and there's not a vast amount of content, but it's a beginning. Who knows what exciting things might develop.

And if you're wondering about the title — continuing my tradition of affected Italian blog names, "Soggiorno amoroso" is the way Ilia describes her time in Crete, growing to love her new home. I thought it was a sort of operatically apt description for my growing affection for my own adopted country and its opera company.

Various

Kathy

This is becoming vaguely traditional, and so it should — every now and then I feel compelled to pay tribute to Kathleen Battle, whom I continue unconditionally to adore. Having been deprived of her for several months, her Salzburg Festival recital is now back in my possession and on my mp3 player. And every time a track from it turns up on shuffle it just about stops me in my tracks. What in the world could rival this? From start to finish it's just a miracle of silken perfection. I could listen to "Les roses d'Ispahan" for ever and ever. Think whatever you like of my wonderful Kathy but I still can't imagine that anyone could find fault with a second of this CD.

Joanie

I've finally watched my DVD of Joan Sutherland in Lucia di Lammermoor at the Met. I bought it over a year ago and never quite got around to watching it until. Perhaps in part because I was afraid that she would be patently past her prime and it mightn't be the pleasantest experience. And yes, alright, this is not the effortless, hi-gloss Lucia of 1959 but still, it's Joan singing Lucia. Fading voice notwithstanding she still has more style, sparkle and self possession than most could hope for at their very pinnacle. I worried that this film might unsettle me but I just love and esteem her all the more.

Making trouble

My review of the Sydney Symphony's Stabat Mater has been making some tiny but quite entertaining waves. To wit — this thread at an online forum dedicated to the veneration of Vittorio Grigolo. My review as quoted by a member of said forum, plus subsequent comments. The fangirls aren't too happy about the mean things I said. And in fact, the thread was originally located here but, as you'll read if you click that second link, was archived for fear that "the nature of the article could be upsetting to forum members". It's not often I get to feel so controversial! 

Various

Recital discs

Anna Netrebko is tormenting me slightly. I surrendered to her. Then the Puritani broadcast made me reconsider. Now I've started listening to her Duets with Rolando and I'm back to thinking she's rather wonderful. Maybe she's more comfortable in the studio and with her friend. Also it's better repertoire than Elvira was, mostly. I love the Roméo et Juliette selection; there's something a little odd about the Manon duet — I'm not sure what — but it works all the same. I can't hear the Leila/Nadir duet without also hearing the questionable Opera in English translation, which includes the immortal words "For both our sakes, please go away". Rolando I like more and more all the time. I think there's a sort of old-fashioned appeal to this CD. For lack of a better description, it sounds like opera. Not just opera in the intimate sense we know it but opera as it exists in popular consciousness as well. If that makes any sense. I suspect it doesn't.

Another Deutsche Grammophon project — Elina Garanča's label debut, Aria Cantilena. I own her Mozart arias from Virgin Classics, which I suppose is a few years old now. Her voice has softened and lightened somewhat since then and there are more colours in it too, all positive developments for the moment; only the very top of her voice worries me a little but not in any world shattering sense. The programme here is rather wildly varied — Rossini, Villa-Lobos, Richard Strauss plus some Offenbach and some zarzuela for good measure. It shows her off well for the most part but I think a more focused programme would be even more satisying and do her truer justice. But she's gorgeous. Photogenic, too, it has to be said — you might remember one of the main reasons I bought her Mozart CD was the colour of her eyes; pity the back cover photo of Aria Cantilena makes her look like Gumby.

But the one I really love is Joyce DiDonato's ¡Pasión! Is this really the same woman as sang the swaggering male interest to all Patrizia Ciofi's silvery heroines on their Amor e gelosia? That alluringly dark vein is still there but what this repertoire (all Spanish songs) really capitalises on is the sunshine in her voice. Her love for these songs is obvious and terribly infectious — she transmits all the deliciousness she finds in them while steering clear of self indulgence. It's not a case of listening to her enjoy them — rather she offers them up, simply and beautifully, for us to taste and discover. And fall in love with too.

And in other news

Every now and then I get a definite sign that moving here was a good idea. One came just yesterday.. The Sydney Symphony has announced that when its current chief conductor finishes his term, his replacement (in a modified role) will be — Ashkenazy.

And everyone everywhere seems to have something to say about the Washington Post's Joshua Bell experiment, in all kinds of ways. My favourite response is Jeremy Denk's, hands down; there's also been some brainmeltingly absurd PC ranting which I'm trying to ignore. I shan't try and add anything intellectual to the discussion but I did want to share one tiny little story. A day or two after the article, I served a customer who, as he told me, knew nothing about classical music and had never bought a classical CD in his life. But he was so fascinated by the article he came and bought a Joshua Bell CD so he could understand better what it was all about and find out if this was a musical avenue he felt like pursuing. Make of that what you will.

Elsewhere

Mme Cieca has posted a couple of clips from Meyerbeer's Il crociato in Egitto at La Fenice, with Michael Maniaci and my adored Patrizia Ciofi as Armando/Elmireno and Palmide. Since this opera has a special place in my heart, I thought I'd respond in kind with a few Crociato excerpts of my own. From a live performance at Carnegie Hall in 1979 — "Con qual gioia", the final part of Palmide's Act Two scena; and the end of Armando's and Palmide's duet "Ravvisa qual'alma", which concludes the opera. And for a more direct comparison, here (from a 1992 recording which I've zero right to post) are the two parts of the Act One duet posted by La Cieca — "Ah, non ti son piu cara" and "Non v'e per noi piu speme". Who wins, I wonder.
[Please right-click those links and "Save As..." rather than running them directly from here. They'll stay here until the dictates of bandwidth usage, my guilty conscience or somebody's lawyers require their removal.]

Opera Chic and Herr Fury have both been discussing the merits (or otherwise) of the 1982 mini series Wagner, starring Richard Burton and featuring apparently every single other British actor of note they could fit in. Of course all that really interests me about this film is one entry in its seemingly endless cast list, a "Frau Dustmann". I'd willingly watch the whole nine hours, given the chance, to see just what her contribution really is. After all, I'm the person who has been not once, not twice, but three times through all eight hours of the unspeakable mess that is Melba, and for a similar reason.

Also via Opera Chic — reports that Renée Fleming's next project is "a recording of Appalachian folk music with authentic string instrumentation." Honestly, when I saw this quote I thought it must be a joke, until I followed the link to the article it comes from. No joke. Oh, Renée. I do love her, you know, and I plan to keep doing so — but she certainly doesn't make it easy. Just sing arias, Renée. You're really good at those.

Random

Doesn't feel like I've much to write about lately, so instead I thought I'd indulge in a meme. From Dial M for Musicology via OperaChic (I feel like I'm talking about a racehorse) comes a nice straightforward and relatively open-ended one, the Ipod random challenge. Instructions are simple: "post a randomly-generated Ipod playlist on your blog, with relevant commentary".

My portable music device of choice isn't actually an iPod (it's one of these) but it shuffles up a storm. It shan't be a particularly varied storm — right now one particular singer constitutes over half the contents of said non-iPod — but that's hardly a surprise, considering it's me. Right, enough introduction — on with the show.

1. Passacaille, from Lully's Armide. Can you believe my very first selection isn't even vocal? This is from Véronique Gens' brilliant disc of French baroque heroines, Tragédiennes. And even though I wouldn't mind having Véronique on every single track, it's hard to say no to Lully, or to Christophe Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques, vocal or no vocal. Sigh. I'm such a fool for French baroque.

2. "Comment disaient-ils" (Liszt). Barbara Bonney - While I Dream. Barbara at her loveliest. I adore the way she sings the words "les belles" and I'm so pleased I bought this CD (which I had listened to for years, but which belonged to somebody else) for myself.

3. "Du pouvoir de l'amour", from Rameau's Pygmalion. Carolyn Sampson - Règne Amour. More French baroque, in the loving care of the utterly delicious Carolyn. I'm still besotted. How can she possibly be so perfect and so magical? A deal with the devil, surely.

4. "S'altro che lagrime" from Mozart's La clemenza di Tito. Sandrine Piau - Mozart Arias. Faultless as always — Sandrine is a miracle. Even here, where there's nothing showy, just sweet, lovely lyricism, she's a star.

5. "On the City Street" (Lambert). Yvonne Kenny - William Walton & Constant Lambert: Complete Songs. The most exquisite little Chinese miniature. Somehow the way she colours the words "pink dust" actually sounds pink, if you'll forgive the synaesthesia.

6. "Oh my beloved father". Yvonne Kenny - Great Operatic Arias. Yes, it's "O mio babbino caro" in English, this is one of the Chandos Opera in English series. Puccini 1. has never been her repertoire and 2. sounds a whole lot better in Italian. And yet I love this. And at least, unlike the (Italian) version on Simple Gifts, this one actually has the proper orchestral introduction, not just a schmaltzy strings version of the opening phrase.

7. "Dunque Licida ingrato...Piu non si trovano", from Myslivecek's (too late at night for diacritics) L'Olimpiade. Magdalena Kozena - Le belle immagine. Well, I've said it already but I might as well repeat it, Magdalena is perfect. And therefore so is this. Further proof — here's film of her singing the same aria.

8. "So in love." (Cole Porter). Yvonne Kenny - Great Operatic Arias. Of course it's not an aria but that's easily forgiven. Several reviews of this CD name this as its number one highlight and they might just be right. She's sung this song all over the place, including in a run of Kiss Me, Kate opposite Thomas Allen. It was her sole encore when I saw her in recital in 2005, when she introduced it as something she absolutely loved. But my favourite moment is from the documentary Viva la Diva, when, in rehearsal with Bryn Terfel for their gala together, she dismisses it completely: "I don't believe this song. Haunt me, hurt me, deceive me, I'll still love you. Rubbish!" Oh, but when she sings the word "hurt" in that dark, haunting way, it certainly sounds like she means it.

9. "To couple is a custom" (William Walton). Yvonne Kenny - William Walton & Constant Lambert: Complete Songs. I'm pretty certain that William Walton was born to compose songs for Yvonne and that she in turn was born to sing them. Etcetera should be congratulated for realising this and having her record them all. This song is the last in the cycle "Anon in Love", you can read the text here.  It would probably make a bit more sense sung by a male voice — except that it wouldn't because Yvonne is unmatchably ideal in every single moment of this CD, my ultimate desert island disc.

10. "Could I leave you?" (Sondheim). Yvonne Kenny - A Touch of Venus. This is from the broadcast of the Adelaide recital. It comes preceded by Dorothy Parker's "Song of one of the girls" and quotations from George Bernard Shaw, Winston Churchill and Ivana Trump. Frankly I don't think it's a particularly wonderful fit for her, vocally or temperamentally, and I'm not crazy about her American accent. But, you know, it's Yvonne and I am crazy about her. I just wish that if she had to sing something Sondheim, she'd gone with "Every day a little death" which I love to distraction and which I think would suit her far better. But then what would I know?

11. "Wiegenlied" (Strauss). Yvonne Kenny - Wigmore Hall Recital. Yvonne. Strauss. Transcendent. Speaking of which: she's singing the Four Last Songs here in October. I'm booked. I have been for several weeks; still can't figure out how to express the wondrousness and significance of this prospect... it's as if the soprano fairy dropped from heaven and said, choose any piece of music in the world, whatever you love the best, and she'll sing it for you.

12. "Si disse Clori", from Handel's Il Delirio Amoroso. Natalie Dessay - Delirio. Natalie being Natalie, she does more with a recitative than some could do with the whole cantata. Twenty seconds of phenomenal beauty, radiant and expressive singing which satisfies on every level. There's nobody like Natalie.

13. "This Can't Be Love" (Richard Rodgers). Yvonne Kenny - Make Believe. I believe that the Broadway CDs of sopranos are supposed to come under the heading of Guilty Pleasures. But I don't feel guilty at all. She sings it with a soft, feathery vibrato more reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe than any opera singer, there's nothing oversung or overblown, it's just plain gorgeous.

That's probably enough. I'm not sure if tagging is a part of this meme, but if it is, then I tag everybody who wishes to be tagged. I want to read other people's playlists, guaranteed to be far more interesting and sophisticated than mine.