Prima la musica, poi le parole

Last things first

In a rather lovely feat of good timing, I managed to come home from Sydney just in time for 'Music and Mayhem', a recital of arias and songs by a collection of lovely Dunedin singers, organised by none other than my favourite Dunedin singer (yes, I'm allowed favourites) Claire Barton. Such a wonderful idea, and very enjoyable, if perhaps the slightest bit too long (but maybe I'm just jetlagged). I think there was a sore throat or two at work tonight, but there were no out-and-out disasters, and there were also several true gems. The shiniest of which was Mlle Barton herself, magnificent as always in a wonderful 'Cruda sorte' and a ravishing 'Bali Ha'i'; not to mention a hilarious Marcellina to Fiona Henry's rather pretty Susanna in 'Via resti servita'. Matt Landreth too was excellent - his singing, particularly in 'Vi ravviso' from La Sonnambula is gaining a silkiness lately which I like very much; and Penelope Muir well nigh stole the show with 'A Word on my Ear' (words here, though it rather needs to be heard as well). A very very nice concert to come back to. And there's the Mozart Requiem tomorrow!

Shanghai Quartet

It's not often I head off to hear a string quartet. Actually, I've never been to see one before in my life, except when there was also some singing somewhere in the concert. But a sudden need to feel slightly less of a philistine had me running to the Glenroy at 7.50pm on Monday night (I'd just been to Bride and Prejudice, so I was cutting it fine, timing-wise) to see the Shanghai Quartet. Wonderful Dunedin: I arrive minutes before the concert begins, get a student rush ticket for $15 - and I'm sitting in the front row. Fabulous. And the music was to die for. I cannot understand why anyone thinks a hideous creation like Bond is necessary to make this stuff exciting. They played two Beethoven string quartets, with arrangements by the second violinist of traditional Chinese music in the middle. And then some Ravel as an encore. It was brilliant. There were moments in the first Beethoven piece (String Quartet in B flat Opus 18 No 6 apparently) which left me almost breathless. And though I'm absolutely and completely unfamiliar with Beethoven string quartets (and Beethoven almost everything else for that matter) somehow I felt all the same as if I knew where I was. It wasn't familiar, but it wasn't bewildering either. The Chinese stuff was fantastic - it was what I was mainly looking forward to. Kudos to Yi-Wen Jiang for such excellent arrangements - equal parts (to me) exotic and familiarly lovely and string quartetish. And then the second Beethoven (String Quartet in C sharp minor Opus 131) which should surely have left them all unconscious with exhaustion - fabulous. And the Ravel encore, one movement of something I would very much like to hear in its entirety. I had a wonderful time. And with no singing! (Truth to tell, I'd still take a soprano over a violin any day...but at least my horizons are widening just a little bit.)

Will I go and see Pascal Rogé with the NZSO tonight?

La Deborah

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

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

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

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

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

Marama Hall: recital by vocal students

How wonderful: a Wednesday lunchtime recital devoted entirely to vocal students. Not that the violinists, pianists, etc. aren't great but it's the singing I come to see: so it's nice for once to have nothing but. Brilliant programme, too: one boy, three girls. Not a ratio I'm ever likely to complain about.

Saving the best for last is such a cliché. So I'll put her first instead: Claire Barton. Incredible! 'Cruda sorte' was just beautiful. I didn't think I was in a very Rossinian mood at the moment but obviously I was mistaken because I absolutely loved this. Claire, it would seem, is both vocally and temperamentally suited to a role like Isabella; so apparently at ease with the music that I could hardly believe this was the first time I'd ever heard Claire singing anything from Rossini. All those runs and acrobatics are already sounding very very good indeed, and I can only imagine that as time goes by they'll grow into something quite special. Can't forget David Baker's 'Someone is sending me flowers' either, which not only sounded lovely, but also worked as a piece of comedy: something which requires quite some skill - not to mention the diction to make yourself understood while singing in English. It worked brilliantly: as the laughs in the audience proved.

Penelope Muir - who's off to the Song Quest final in a couple of weeks - was also in fine form. The luxury of Lucia Popp has, I fear, left me rather immune to anybody else's 'Song to the Moon'; nevertheless Penny's was excellent, as it always is; the highest notes (here and in Monica's Waltz from The Medium) are perhaps not always as beautiful as they could be but the interpretation as a whole always works wonderfully. What's struck me about Penny lately is the power of her voice; Dunedin's shining stars of late have tended to be of the sweet and lyric variety, but Penny's singing is something slightly darker and more dramatic. She's also a brilliant vocal actress: Monica's Waltz was truly a tour de force, and the final words, as Monica tells Toby he has 'the most beautiful voice in the world' were heartbreaking.

The third girl on the programme (although in fact she sang first) was Fiona Henry, sounding immeasurably better than the last time I heard her. Both 'Der Nussbaum' (Schumann) and Fauré's 'Rêve d'amour' sounded very pretty; and there was a richness and fullness to the voice in the Fauré which I've not really heard from Fiona before. Both pieces were very well chosen: she sounded great.

And Stephen Chambers, as always, sounded fabulous. The two Elgar songs - 'Is she not passing fair?' and 'Speak Music' - were better, I thought, than 'En fermant les yeux' and Donaudy's 'Vaghissima sembianza'. All of it sounded great, of course; but there was rather a tendency towards sameness: nothing to distinguish English song from French opera, and so on. Because of this, the Elgar came across particularly well: but the Massenet and the Donaudy suffered a little, I thought. Undeniably lovely to listen to, but perhaps less than compelling. The voice itself is already so naturally appealing, I can't help but but think that a touch of fire and dramatic sensibility would make Stephen just about unstoppable.

On The Upward Path

As planned, I forwent Pelléas et Mélisande at 3 this afternoon, and went instead to 'On The Upward Path', a concert by four Dunedin singers, presented by the Friends of the Opera. It's been far far too long since I've heard these or any other Dunedin singers, and I wasn't going to give up the chance. Even if it did mean wearing a 'Hello My Name Is' sticker - this concert was open to the public, but it was also the first get-together of the year for the Friends, so there were biscuits, coffee and tea, and name tags. Not to worry: it was wonderful.

We started and finished with Penelope Muir, a semi-finalist in this year's Lexus Song Quest. Her 'Song to the Moon' from Rusalka was a triumph, transcending some rather obstructive piano accompaniment, and an improvement on her already very good rendition from last year's ODT Aria Competition. Kudos also for making Walton's fiendishly difficult 'Old Sir Faulk' look almost easy - I'm looking at the text now and wondering how anyone could be so cruel as it set it to music and expect someone to sing it. Monica's Waltz from Menotti's The Medium did have the odd moment which seemed to sit a little uncomfortably, but overall it was a success.

Then we had Stephen Chambers. Proving that being related to Marie McLaughlin (sorry, I've still got that Figaro on the brain) isn't his only claim to fame! 'Una furtiva lagrima' was just gorgeous, and the song from Die Schöne Müllerin was likewise excellent. 'Aura Lee' doesn't do much for me, personally; but I've no doubt Stephen won the hearts of most of the audience when he finished up with this, like a sort of Dunedin Daniel O'Donnell (in the best possible sense!)

The other boy on the programme was Michael Gray, who holds the honour of being the only baritone I've also heard sing soprano. What am I talking about? Michael and I were at the same primary school, and he was the resident star boy soprano of our school's Junior Choir. But he's even better now! 'Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen' from Zauberflöte was gorgeous, with the sort of humour and vocal characterisation which singers who are still students all too often shy away from. 'Captain Stratton's Fancy' by Peter Warlock is a bit silly really, but nevertheless is sounded great.

I've left the best till last. Claire Barton. I have never never heard Claire sounding this fabulous! She's always excellent, no doubt about it, but today was just something else. I stand amazed. This can't just be my imagination: some very happy transformation has occured in the months since I last heard her sing. I think this was about the third time I've heard Claire sing Marcello's 'Quella fiamma', but it was the first time she's brought me to edge of my seat with it. And 'Vanne, o rosa fortunata' was gorgeous. I wanted a full-length recital. I wanted the CD! Whatever it is you're doing Claire, I beg of you, don't stop!

I decided, however, not to go to the Bach cantata at Knox Church. Which meant I got to hear all of most of Pelléas et Mélisande after all. I would have liked to have heard Act I, with all its eerie forest music, but what I did hear (the last three acts) was just wonderful. Everyone was perfectly cast: José van Dam's Golaud equally convincing both in his violen jealousy and his remorse, Anne Sofie's Mélisande beautiful and ethereal, William Burden an appealing and lyrical Pelléas. Roberto Scandiuzzi's Arkel was likewise excellent, and I can only guess that Felicity Palmer was as well. But it's really very difficult to review something like this, especially when I was hearing it all for the very first time: the music is as elusive and impossible to grasp as the heroine herself.

As with Turandot, I listened to this with a piano vocal score in front of me, which was particularly interesting, on account of the pencilled annotations throughout, obviously left there at some point by a musical student. So every now and then there were notes pointing out themes, key changes, oboes, that sort of thing, as well as the odd comment of the text - all sorts of thing which I'd never otherwise have known were there. Although in fact the best moment came when Golaud grabbed his son. "Sadism again", the student notes. And beside that note, in another, later hand: "Can't be helped."

The wanderer returns

I'm back from Nelson, and a weekend of semi-adventures. I'll get to the highlight of the holiday (and my life) in a moment, but first some other things.

For one thing, I got to be an opera-yobbo. I was still in Nelson on Sunday, so I had to organise myself to listen to the Sunday opera there. Katya Kabanova. Now, I was all set for some seriously nerve-shattering music but in fact it was gorgeous, very easy on the ears. It was difficult, I have to say, to try and follow an opera without the aid of a libretto, especially when it's not being sung in a language I at least vaguely know. I only had brief moments of knowing where in the plot we were, as I tried to match Margaret Juntwait's preamble with the voices I was hearing. I always always knew when Magdalena was singing: nobody on earth sounds quite like her. And Karita's rather difficult to miss: absolutely fabulous. But to get back to the yobbo thing. I had two options for listening to the opera: headphones and a radio with so-so reception, or the car. I chose the latter. And so that I didn't suffocate, I had a door open. At least, I did for most of the first act: until the charming man in the room across the driveway came and asked me to shut it because the music was "annoying the hell out of us". I obliged, although without a smile. Really, though, he should have just been grateful the opera wasn't Wozzeck. Honestly.
I also managed, in record speed, to find the one CD store in Nelson with a real classical section: and it's a very very real one. Heaps of stuff. There's a big Naxos and other budget label section, then an opera section as well. I resisted (it wasn't hard) the $14.95 Maria Callas Ballo. But I did buy: Victoria de los Angeles Spanish Songs; Vissi d'arte: The Magnificent Voice of Montserrat Caballé; The Best of Elisabeth Schwarzkopf; and two Opera d'Oro live recordings- a Nozze di Figaro with Mirella Freni and Frederica von Stade, and Catalani's La Wally with Renata (come on, it was only $10).

Right. That's the boring stuff out of the way. Now for the reason we went to Nelson. The gorgeous, the divine, the out of this world...

Patricia Wright.

The concert she was singing in was part of the Adam Festival of Chamber Music, which is still going on this week. The New Zealand String Quartet plus guest viola player played a Brahms quintet and a Brandenburg Concerto. Patricia sang five Bach arias and four Vaughan Williams songs.

I hardly know what to say. The Bach was what really had me counting the days until the concert. I'm a Bach fiend anyway, and just the though of what Patricia would do with the arias was too exciting for words. Somehow- I don't know how she managed it- she was even better than I thought. My hopes were pretty stratospheric but she exceeded them. All I was prepared for was the voice itself, which is incredibly beautiful. I had no idea what a fabulous performer and interpreter she is. This sort of music is so gorgeous on its own that you can forget the extra dimension which an excellent performance of it can add. Forget your soulless boy soprano-soundalike HIP singers: this was sparkly and joyous and wonderful. There's a golden quality and a warmth to the voice which makes every moment shine. So much so that the beauty of it spilled over into the silences between arias as well.

The Vaughan Williams songs, however, were another matter entirely. Leading up to the concert, I wasn't really much interested in them; they were another opportunity for Patricia to sing, and therefore a Good Thing, but otherwise I wasn't hugely looking forward to them- given my druthers I'd probably have happily replaced them with more Bach. But then I heard them and lost my heart completely. The musical directors of the festival are brilliant brilliant women: I cannot think of a more perfect meeting of singer and song. To start with, the songs themselves are a magnificent idea: they're written for soprano and oboe, which, as you can imagine, is a pretty heartmelting combination. And it all gets even more ridiculously beautiful when you've got a voice like Patricia's singing them. The best thing is that the heart which you can hear her pour into her singing can also be seen: she's spellbinding to watch, so absolutely committed that, as I said, the atmosphere she creates continues in the silences. She sang four of these Vaughan Williams songs. I seem to think I heard the first, 'Infant Joy', sung in somebody's exam recital last year. 'The Piper' followed, then 'The Shepherd' and 'Eternity'. As besotted with the oboe as I was, I think I have to name 'The Shepherd', which is performed without accompaniment, as my favourite. But in fact, from the first note of 'Infant Joy' to the final bars of 'Eternity' I was basically paralysed: there was simply nothing else in the world (including Kiri Te Kanawa recitals) I would rather have been listening to. And it took me a long time to return to earth.

It gets even better, by the way. When it was all finished, and I was still floating, we went from the Cathedral to In Vino Fides, the 'Official Festival Tapas Restaurant and Bar', where the programme promised us we would meet the artists. We were somewhat skeptical, but as oboists and violinists started drifting in our hopes were lifted. Then all of a sudden there she was, the woman herself, resplendent in purple frock and big sparkly earrings. (I don't think you could ever mistake this woman's profession). One really oughtn't ever pass up the chance to tell a soprano how fabulous she is: so eventually we managed to meet her (in fact she recognised my father first, on account of his sponsorial presence at the singing competitions). As far as I'm concerned, with a voice like that, she's allowed to be the most Evil Diva on the planet; she was, however, an absolute delight. Gorgeous voice, gorgeous person. I'm such a fan. Can you tell?

I've posted this link before, but I'll do it again: you simply must go here and listen to the samples from Serenata. I think you'd have to be made of stone to resist singing like this.

Jonathan Lemalu

So. Jonathan Lemalu. What can I say? The boy is a star. We know this of course already- as far as I was concerned he had nothing to prove last night. And wasn't he fabulous? Every moment of him. I had such a good time, even from my seat halfway up the upper gallery (although I was at least near enough to the door to get a bit of a breeze- it's a bit of an inferno up there). The comments on the last post pretty much say it all anyway. I agree with those who thought the second half was better than the first, although of course the first half was still pretty damned fantastic.

Highlights for me? Let me think. Well his very first aria, 'Vous qui faites' from Faust, simply because it was my first experience of Jonathan live. And while things were a little quiet up as far as I was, I thought Prince Gremin's aria from Eugene Onegin was fabulous too. But, yes, the Mozart fix in the second half was where I got especially excited. Leporello, Figaro, Count Almaviva, and Papageno. Short of throwing a soprano in the works, it really doesn't get much better than that. Especially Papageno. No wonder he stole the show at Glyndebourne. If I was a proper opera reviewer, I'd probably use the word 'ebullient' too. I'm not, so I won't, but it's a good word all the same. 'Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen' was excellent; 'Der Vogelfänger bin ich ja' was adorable and hilarious- I imagine he acted it last night in much the same way he did in the opera, complete with pipes, and it was wonderful.

To repeat myself: I enjoyed myself a lot last night. He's not a soprano or a mezzo, so I didn't cry. But he's incredibly good and he did make me smile. And laugh. I think he's just brilliant and luckily so does the rest of the world. Well done Mr Lemalu.