Prima la musica, poi le parole

La voce che adoro

I should have known my luck would run out sometime. Front row seats are always a gamble. They're not considered the best seats in the house, so they're never the most expensive. But I like to be close. Usually it pays off - my second row seat for Don Giovanni was perfect - but Saturday night was different. As you may or may not have picked up, I headed off early yesterday morning for Timeless Land, a concert of contemporary New Zealand orchestral music, including Anthony Ritchie's piece of the same name. Not something I'd generally travel for but this one had three special words in its favour: "Soprano - Patricia Wright." Right then, have to see that. Except I couldn't. Her solo came in the third movement of 'Timeless Land' itself. There was a flash of black velvet as she entered and exited, but that was all - the soloist here is very much just another orchestral voice, and so she stood among the orchestra and was invisible to me.

But in fact she wasn't precisely invisible - the piece has a film component, which included Grahame Sydney paintings, film of the Maniototo and - thank god - the performers themselves, including soprano soloist. So most of the time when she was singing, I could see her - or at least, the two thirds of the screen not obscured by the conductor. From my front and smack-bang-centre position, though, the woman herself was entirely invisible. All I knew was which side of the stage she was on, and that only from where the sound was coming from. It was a slightly surreal experience, sitting there and realising it was quite possible that I would have come to Christchurch, and seen one of my favourite sopranos in the world perform live - and yet leave without really seeing her at all. Thankfully, however, at the end of the piece she took her bow at the front of stage, and so I did see the woman herself after all. And my front row seat did have its advantages in the end - ample legroom for one thing - and it's good once in while to have a chance to pay tribute literally at the feet of the goddess.

However in any case, it's not really about seeing one's adored soprano, is it. Is it. No. Voce, voce, voce. Dio, che voce. The richness and expressiveness which make Patricia so desperately gorgeous in opera and art song, are just what make the voice so ideal for music without a text as well. Take a beautiful but boring voice, give it this solo, and all you have left is meaningless sound, a vocalise and nothing more. But sung by a soprano such as this - are there any others such as this? - it's a different matter entirely. The voice is warm, sweet, radiantly beautiful. And it's a natural beauty too - nothing forced here, nothing artificial, just pure and lovely singing which, even pianissimo, enfolds and entrances its audience. When Patricia joins with the orchestra, she is the perfect soloist, gorgeous and distinctive yet still blended divinely as an instrument. An absolute knockout.

Which is why I (though others disagree) don't think I was out of my mind to make the trip. The fact is, hearing Patricia's solo was not actually the only thing I did in my day in Christchurch. But even if it had been - it was worth that much, and more. Not very long, no, but length is far from everything. A thing of beauty needn't last for hours and hours. Besides which, why on earth should I consider denying myself a chance to hear one of the singers I love best performing a piece I may never hear her sing again?  Unlike with other sopranos, I can't fill my life with a thousand recordings - I have seven Patricia Wright recordings and so far that's almost all there is (all I need is the Bridge Songs which are nowhere). I need to see her live and for once I live in the right country, so that doing so is not only possible but easy as well. What's a trip to Christchurch, really? Nothing at all, especially considering the payoff.

It gets even better at the end of the month, though. Another trip to Christchurch, more Patricia, but this time a full-blown concert. Canteloube (sigh) and Golijov (bigger sigh). And sitting a few rows further back, too. Oh, the bliss which awaits me.

Bellissima Donn'Anna

That's it then. Last night I saw my third and final performance of NZ Opera's Don Giovanni - also the production's closing night. Having reviewed the performances I saw in Wellington three weeks ago, I wasn't sure I'd write anything much about this - but I will, because in some ways I feel as if I saw a whole new show last night.

It seemed to me a much tighter production this time round. Several of my own wishes, eerily enough, were granted. One of my complaints in my earlier review was that, in the middle of 'Ah chi mi dice mai', Donna Elvira heard Don Giovanni's whispered conversation with Leporello, and reacted coquettishly, checking her hair and so on - and thus undermining the point of her aria. Well, somebody else must have felt the same way, because that was gone last night - she just kept singing, focused on vengeance and violence, and I thought the aria was the better for the change. Something else which bothered me, and which I didn't mention because it seemed a necessity of the stage set-up rather than any directorial decision, was that in Wellington, Donna Elvira left the Act II dinner, spotted the statue, screamed and then ran towards him. Which makes no sense. It's like people in horror movies who run upstairs with an axe murderer in house. But it was fixed this time: she didn't scream until she was already offstage, implying she passed the statue in the street - which, I think, is what the libretto actually says. All in all, I found last night's Donna Elvira much more convincing; I also felt like vocally I was hearing what everybody else heard in Wellington.

Those were the changes which pleased me most. Others were a little more curious. Donna Elvira's entrance last night came immediately after Donna Anna's first call (of many...) for vengeance. The scene between Don Giovanni and Leporello - "la vita che menate è da briccone" etc. - was gone. Not that it's absolutely necessary, I suppose, but I do think it's important in establishing a sense of the servant-master relationship (and sometime lack thereof) and giving us a tiny glimpse of the works of Giovanni's mind. Really I can't think why, having been performed in the Wellington production, it was cut. However that cut wasn't as heartbreaking as the disappearance of the middle of 'Non mi dir'. I'm pretty sure I didn't imagine it, though at the time I thought surely I had. It went straight from the first "che son io crudel con te" to "calma calma" and then into the second section. No "tu ben sai quant'io t'amai" - that part was gone. Was this intentional? Things seemed to flow pretty seamlessly down in the orchestra pit but I imagine a good conductor and a good orchestra can do stuff like that impromptu, and it seems an unusual cut to make.

What made it a particularly difficult omission to bear was that last night's Donna Anna constituted one of the very best operagoing experiences in my life so far. Patricia Wright was so beautiful in Wellington, that I had no idea she could be so much better even than that. She simply blew me away. She sounded and looked about 15 years younger, she was alive to every nuance of music and drama, she seemed - as much as a Donna Anna can - genuinely to be enjoying herself. When I saw her in Wellington, part of the thrill was seeing one of my favourite sopranos in a beautiful role, hearing a voice I recognized; but last night's performance was like discovering her all over again - she was not only a beautiful soprano whom I adore, she was, independent of anything previous, a truly great Donna Anna. Her 'Non mi dir' was easily the best of the three I've heard - beginning with one of the most perfectly wrought pieces of Mozart recitative I've ever heard - and so the disappearance of that middle section hurt. Both times in Wellington, I was in tears by the end of the aria - but this time I was so overwhelmed I didn't really come back to reality until Don Giovanni was asking Leporello to whistle un poco, and even then not entirely. Even now not entirely. I can still hear her.

When the curtain fell I was trembling. I would so have liked to have been able join in the 'brava' shouting - but at that point I'd have been hard pressed to speak in English, let alone shout in Italian. Let's be honest, the opera is divine, but Patricia and Patricia alone is the sole reason I spent hundreds of dollars on tickets and airfares and hotelrooms in order to see this a third time. I knew, of course, that she'd be worth it - but I had no idea just how worth it. I only wish I could spend all my weekends like this.

Oh dear...

Just when I thought I was besotted enough...look what I've gone and found. The final sentence of a Naxos artist bio of Patricia Wright:

"Other projects include a Lieder Recital tour, guest artist at the Nelson Chamber Music Festival, three recording projects and a recital series with pianist Piers Lane."

Excuse me? The Nelson Chamber Music thing I know about, it was in January, I went and it was to die for. But the rest is almost entirely new to me. There was a mention on the back of a Music Matters of the Lieder recital tour. I was investigating that when I found this - and this so far is all I've found. That on its own was exciting enough. But recitals with Piers Lane too? And three recording projects? How on earth am I expected to cope with all this? Apart from anything else it's set my imagination running wild...dangerously so.

And speaking of online discoveries, some very good news: Madeleine Pierard's official site is now up and running and worthy of your attention. If you do nothing else you must listen to the excerpt from 'Ich trage meine Minne' - breathtaking. Even better news is that her schedule includes the Mozart Requiem being done in here in Dunedin on the 1st of October. I'd been wondering who the soloists would be. But by that, I really mean I'd been wondering who the soprano and alto soloists would be, and now I at least know one - and I also know she'll be fabulous.

Dawn who?

Alright, fine, I know Osvaldo Golijov's Three Songs for soprano and orchestra are forever linked to the Upshaw, who premiered them and for whom they were written. Far be it from me to question the Upshaw's status as supreme Golijov soprano, I've never heard her sing any so I'm in no position to make any kind of comment. What I can comment on, however, is the second soprano ever to perform them. She is, of course, the divine Patricia Wright, who could surely cause even the most devout Upshaw acolyte momentarily to forget their idol. How can songs composed specifically for a certain voice be so perfectly suited to a very different one? I don't know. But they are. She inhabits them, owns them, and sings up a storm, golden and glorious. She captures perfectly the spirit, the ecstasy, the haunting beauty of each song, and her engagement with each text, be it Yiddish, Gallego or English, is complete, and captivatingly so. I don't think, incidentally, that I've ever been quite so overcome by a singer's way with the English language. Sometimes all we can ask is that a singer be capable of making his or herself understood in English but Patricia again and again makes a convincing argument for English as a truly musical language. Her performance of the final song, (a setting of two short Emily Dickinson poems - which reminded me once again how perfect I think Copland's Emily Dickinson songs would be for Patricia) 'How slow the wind', was heart-stopping. They're all three of them truly incredible songs and I am utterly enchanted.

And it gets even better. Next month I'm going to Christchurch to hear her perform with the Christchurch Symphony - and she's singing some Chants d'Auvergne and these three songs. If they're this killingly beautiful on radio then I can hardly begin to imagine the wondrousness of a live performance. The concert was an exciting enough prospect before I'd heard these songs; now it's almost too much to bear.

Don Giovanni (at length)

If I were a proper reviewer, I'd have things like word limits to contend with - and it would probably do me good! But I'm not, and I don't, and as a result my Don Giovanni review is preposterously long. So I've in fact written two: a short version, which is in the post immediately before this one, and the preposterously long one, which follows here.

 

Don Giovanni (in brief)

Production: Beautiful and clever if a bit too light and comedic for my taste.
Orchestra: Wellington Sinfonia excellent. A few rather quick tempi but otherwise powerful, persuasive and beautiful.
Singers:
Leporello (Conal Coad): brilliant & comic
Donna Anna (Patricia Wright): magnificently intense
Don Giovanni (Paul Whelan): elegant and lyrical
Commendatore (Rodney Macann): fine but slightly disappointing in Act II
Don Ottavio (Jaewoo Kim): a stunner
Donna Elvira (Marie-Adele MacArthur): powerful and attractive
Zerlina (Ali McGregor): adorable
Masetto (John Brunato): appealing and nicely sung

Verdict: Good production in every respect, no truly weak links, and the added bonus of one of my favourite sopranos in the world as Donna Anna. Well and truly worth all the money I've spent on tickets and airfares. 8/10 - which will become 9/10 if the Auckland Commendatore restores the goosebumps I'm accustomed to in the cemetery scene.

Click here to read my (much) longer Don Giovanni review

Attention NZ readers

-Tune into Concert FM at 4pm this afternoon for 'Made in New Zealand', which includes three songs from Patricia Wright's gorgeous CD of Rebecca Clarke songs: 'Down by the Salley Gardens', 'Infant Joy' and 'Lethe'. Listen, listen, listen.

-Reviews of The Royal College of Music's production of Cosi fan tutte with Anna Leese as Fiordiligi can be found here and here. She's a hit!

Sacerdotessa assoluta

I haven't been praying at their altar con fe sincera but nevertheless the programming gods of Concert FM seem to like me. Or more probably: they like Patricia Wright. As they should! In any case, they're making me very happy. On the 7th of July, Patricia can be heard singing Golijov songs with the Auckland Philharmonic; and tonight's Music Alive concert was 'Verdi: King of Italian Opera', recorded in the Auckland Town Hall last July with soloists Simon O'Neill, Shaun Dixon, Grant Dickson, Sarah-Jane Rennie and - yes - Patricia Wright. Incredibly exciting not just because it's Patricia but because this was my first time hearing her actually sing opera. I've heard her in British art song, Italian songs, Canteloube, Bach and the Verdi Requiem - but no opera. Until tonight. And she was - naturally - glorious.

Her first aria (and the only solo aria she sang) was 'Ah dagli scanni eterei' from Aroldo/Stiffelio. Revelatory. The audience started clapping in the pause before the cabaletta but you can hardly blame them - I'd have been tempted to start clapping in the middle of the aria. And after such a performance, it seemed wildly unjust that the next two soprano arias in the programme were both taken by Sarah-Jane Rennie. I could have been annoyed about this, but it was a little difficult to be - in 'Solingo, errante, misero' from Ernani, Patricia proved that even in ensemble she far outshone anything in Sarah-Jane's solo repertoire galaxy. And then she went and evened things up once and for all by being the most goldenly beautiful Desdemona one could hope for, in 'Gia nella notte densa' with Simon O'Neill. If she'd finished there, taken a curtain call and gone home, I'm sure everyone would have left happily in awe. There was, however, more: 'Possente, possente Ftha' - which I think is just about the most beautiful part of Aida - with Patricia singing the Sacerdotessa. I don't quite know what to tell you. It was - unexpected, to say the least. To say more: it paralysed me. I was truly powerless to move until she stopped and the chorus chimed in. The sort of Sacerdotessa who could steal the show... there can't be a great many of those. The sort of Sacerdotessa who could steal my heart - and has...there's only one of those. It was like entering an Italian, Verdian version of the Presentation of the Rose - silver and shimmering and not-quite-of-this-earth musical levitation. As if I didn't already have enough reason to pray fervently for a Patricia Wright Marschallin. And if she sounds like this on Friday - which I suspect she might - I am, quite simply, done for.

For all this, I did actually manage to take some notice of the other soloists too. Simon O'Neill is just brilliant, and deserves all the success which I think probably awaits him. Artsville a few weeks ago had a documentary about him, filmed while he was in New York covering Placido Domingo for Die Walküre, and he's charming in his own funny way. Adorably starstruck when he actually got to meet the man he was understudying, and get from him both a lesson and an autograph. From seeing him practice, I'd say he makes a pretty fantastic Siegmund too. And he's first-rate in Verdi too; 'Quando le sere al placido', from Luisa Miller, was excellent; and his Otello was simply stunning. Shaun Dixon on the other hand is much less my cup of tea. Unfortunately the Italianate tendencies which marred his peformance in the St Matthew Passion here in Dunedin aren't particularly attractive even in the repertoire you'd expect them to suit. 'La mia letizia infondere' I found weak and unconvincing, and 'De' miei bollenti spiriti', from my beloved Traviata, just seemed far too much of an effort. Then again, he got bravo-ed for both, so maybe the radio - or I - was unkind. (Or not..) Sarah-Jane Rennie got to sing both the soprano 'hits' in the concert: 'Caro nome' and 'Addio del passato'. Sadly neither treated her very well, the former forced on the high notes and perilously unsupported down low, the latter far too overblown to be persuasive (but then we probably could have predicted that when she read the letter like it was a billet doux.) All five came together for the single encore, the Brindisi from Traviata. Rather an odd experience. Shaun Dixon would seem to have the more obviously suitable style for the part, but in fact Simon proved a far superior and more attractive Alfredo; and Patricia proved herself an infinitely better Violetta than her colleague, demonstrating a depth and lyricism which made me - and I'm sure I'm not alone - long to hear her 'Addio del passato'. They started with the two tenors in unison (except not quite in synch) , then the two sopranos in unison (except once again not quite), and then they went turn about, with bass Grant Dickson (about whom I'm ambivalent) joining in on the choruses. But perhaps they ought just to have given the duet to Simon and Patricia and let the other three go home - effectively it - and indeed the whole concert - was their duet anyway. Now there's an idea for a CD...are you listening, Morrison Music Trust?

Artsville

Very interesting watching Artsville tonight: a behind-the-scenes at the Lexus Songquest documentary. The synopsis promised it would be 'warts and all' but there really wasn't very much trauma. After all, criticism from La Bumbry was part of the deal, and as in the public masterclasses, nothing she said (on camera at least) was unnecessarily harsh. Apparently she did say some rather scary things during singers' interviews with her - but even that was with the purpose of getting more out of them on the night. She's a tough woman, is Grace Ann, but she knows what she's doing. (Obviously.)

But the wondrous Grace aside, it was nice to see some of the singers as themselves. The documentary followed six semi-finalists, two of whom (Matt Landreth and Paloma Bruce) didn't make it to the finals, and four of whom did - Penelope Muir, Madeleine Pierard, Jamie Frater and Allison Cormack. Once we got to the finals, they also focused on Joanna Heslop, but strangely enough Robert Tucker barely appeared at all. I can only imagine - and hope - this was a decision on his part, not a directorial one. It was also a good chance to hear a couple of these singers again too. The clip of Paloma Bruce singing 'Donde lieta usci' sounded infinitely better than it did on radio - good to know - and I fell for Allison Cormack all over again. If she plays her cards right I really do think Allison has a shot at serious stardom. On the other hand I have to confess I was no more impressed by Joanna Heslop than I was on the night. I think there's a lot of potential, yes, but a lot of work to be done. Maybe that's just me.

So anyway, yes, an interesting if not particularly in-depth behind-the-scenes view. What I'd really like of course is something feature-length along the lines of Spellbound. Now that would be brilliant.

Made in New Zealand

At some point I think I'll have to stop telling myself that twentieth century New Zealand music is not very close to my heart, and face the truth. After all, I adored Anthony Ritchie's The God Boy. Not so long ago Douglas Lilburn's Aotearoa Overture - no singing at all! - rather won me over. And now it's happened again...

Concert FM's 'Made in New Zealand' programme tonight opened with Kenneth Young's Symphony, conducted by the composer, with the NZSO and soprano soloist Patricia Wright. And there, of course, is the reason I made the effort to listen to a symphony by a living New Zealand composer - not just a soprano soloist (a very attractive prospect on its own when it comes to me and symphonies) but la belle Patricia. I'd listen to twenty minutes of static if it included soprano soloist Patricia Wright. So I duly tuned in at 6pm. What I was expecting, I don't know - but I was hooked from the very first bars. It was just enchanting. My intention was to leave it in the background and only really listen properly when Patricia was singing but how could I? There were dishes to do and conversations to have but even so, I gave as much of my attention as I could do the gorgeousness emanating from the radio.

And if I thought the purely orchestral sections were beautiful, there was of course the soprano soloist for whom I had tuned in in the first place. Oh my. Lately I've been listening to Patricia Wright sing English songs, and praising things like her diction and engagement with the text. But of course what really makes those songs so wonderful is that radiantly golden gorgeous voice; and in this Symphony, that's all we have. The voice here is an instrument like any other, with no words, only sound, and so it has to be distinctive and beautiful. I mean, you couldn't just use any old voice for this kind of singing, could you? With no text, no story to hang on to, a boring voice would crash and burn immediately. You need a singer with a voice which will send you spinning even without words, who can make the pure sound meaningful and beautiful. And she does, she does. I've long suspected that the simple sound of Patricia's voice would be enough for me on its own, without words - so nice to be proven right.

This recording of the Symphony (the only recording of it I think) is one of the only Patricia Wright recordings I don't have. (I don't have her Jane Austen Songs yet but it's only a matter of time.) And the reason I've never bought it is because, being me, I was convinced there'd be altogether too much symphony and too little Patricia for my tastes. Neither, as it turns out, is in any way true, and I might just have to hunt out a copy for myself after all.