Prima la musica, poi le parole

Surfeit

 

The bad news: one of the city's major music retailers (not the one I work for, Gott sei Dank) has brutally halved its already patchy classical section. The good news: as a result of this clearance, I bought all the above (plus one) for less than $150. At their original prices, that's about $400 worth of CDs. So of course now, I can't help but gloat. Indulge me as I parade my pretty new children.

Maria Bayo — Canciones espanolas. I have a vaguely troubled relationship with Maria. I adore her Chants d'Auvergne, was disappointed by her Handel and couldn't abide her weak and watery Amenaide in Rossini's Tancredi on film. But I suspected this kind of repertoire would suit her as magically as the Canteloube and sure enough, it does. I'm again enchanted. Sunshiney and delicious.

Juan Diego Florez — Sentimiento Latino. Utterly utterly irresistible. Crossover? If it is, then I'm happy for him to do all the crossing he likes. Dangerously catchy, this — but then, who wouldn't want this in their head all day? Is there no limit to the gorgeousness this boy can produce?

Victoria de los Angeles — "The Modest Prima Donna". I have to confess that, to my unending shame, I don't know Victoria nearly as well as I ought. However, this CD helps a lot. Everything she sings is just so right. And I think of her as being small, sweet and pretty but there are some astonishing reserves of power in this voice too.

Rossini — La Cenerentola (Carlo Rizzi). Two words: Jennifer Larmore. Dazzling always, and especially in Rossini. There was a time when I'd accept nobody but Cecilia as Angiolina, but times have changed and there's room enough in my heart for both of them now. (Not to mention Glorious Joyce.) It does help, though, that this is the issue with a nice, innocuous painting on the cover — not the one which had Jennifer posing in her rival's costume.

Mario del Monaco — Great Tenor Arias.
Giuseppe Di Stefano — Operatic Recital.
Rolando Villazon — Italian Opera Arias.
Three tenors. My horizons are broadening. Of the three I think perhaps Mario is my favourite; there is something wonderfully decadent about basking in so much voice. Giuseppe is a bit quieter and less lavish. Very Italian and yet my favourite tracks are all the French ones — "En fermant les yeux" is perfectly floaty and dreamlike and "Salut! Demeure chaste et pure" make me care more about Gounod's Faust than I ever have before. Rolando always surprises me — he's sweeter here than I expected. Quite a vibrato, but it's rather appealing most of the time. I especially like his Donizetti.

Anna Netrebko — Violetta. It's all about the packaging. This is actually just a highlights disc of the now almost legendary Salzburg Traviata — but the more Netrebko-centric a thing is, the more it will sell, and so it's called Violetta and features Anya looking sinful on the cover. And why not? I go back and forth still about Anna — and the interviews making the rounds at the moment don't help — but here she is magnificent without question. Thomas Hampson bothers me far less than usual when I don't have to look at him. Rolando is excellent again but it's inevitably Anna's show and she rises to the occasion with what must be one of the classiest and most exciting of her performances on record.

Mozart — Messe en ut mineur (Emmanuel Krivine). 2007 seems to have become, among other things, my Year of the Mass in C Minor. I've bought two recordings, listened to several others, and I'll hear it at the Opera House three times next month. I'm not sure about this. It's all very crisp and precise, which is a positive attribute to a certain extent but occasionally comes across as a bit soulless and clinical — military almost. It's all relatively Mozartean but not very spiritual. However, it does offer a radiant Sandrine Piau as Soprano I. Soprano II Anne-Lise Sollied, on the other hand, is listenable but far from amazing. Accentus are in fine form though they tend to overshadow the orchestra when they get going.

Renata Tebaldi — The Best of Tebaldi. Just as the title suggests, Renata at her best. Beautiful golden Renata in beautiful golden repertoire. Just quietly: I think I sigh over her "Si, mi chiamano Mimi" even more than I do over Mirella's. And I have always been in love with her Liu — her "Tu che di gel sei cinta" gets to me every time, as I simultaneously swoon over Renata and rail against that insensitive idiot Calaf for ruining her life.

Inessa Galante — Heroines. Bought mostly out of curiosity. This is an enjoyable enough recital, though I doubt she's destined to become one of the loves of my life. Most of it is pretty standard soprano fare — "Caro nome", "Io son l'umile ancella" and a Jewel Song in some the weirdest French I've ever heard from a singer. The highlight for me is the Russian repertoire — one selection from Tchaikovsky's Pique Dame and two from Rimsky-Korsakov's The Snow Maiden. They're familiar to me from Anna's fabulous Russian Album but Inessa makes for an interesting contrast — her voice is lighter than Anna's, with a bit more silver in it, and somehow more friendly.

Barbara Bonney — Im chambre séparée: The Operetta Album. Perfection. I've said so before. I re-discovered this CD a few months and now I own it and it's still just as adorable and perfect as I thought. By singing these arias with piano instead of orchestra, she's removed the schmaltz and kept the sparkle; and because she's not competing to be heard, her voice in its full bloom is on delightful display.

Barbara Bonney — On Angels' Wings. More Barbara, this time a double disc "best of" compilation . I needed this. Not just because she's Barbara and she's beautiful, but because most of what's on this CD I don't own in any other form. Most of the Barbara I listened to back home belonged to either my father or the library. And then there's music on this compilation which I've never even heard before. Her "Exsultate, jubilate", for instance, is a treasure; not to mention the excerpts from her Susanna, her Zerlina, her Servilia and her Pamina. And Strauss Lieder. All of it bliss. I adore Barbara — I'm so glad she's back.

Handel — Clori, Tirsi e Fileno / Apolle e Dafne. Actually I've only listened to Clori, Tirsi e Fileno so far, but that's reason enough to own this because it contains the incomparable Lorraine Hunt Lieberson. She's singing as a soprano and she is mindbendingly exquisite. Transcendent is such an obvious word to use for Lorraine but it's true, and so here it is — she's transcendent here, elevating a slightly silly pastoral to a thing of such beauty and sincerity you'd swear it must have a deeper meaning lurking somewhere.

Felicity Lott — Sings Schumann and Mélodies sur des poèmes de Victor Hugo. It was always going to happen. I am learning to love my bête noire. I knew, deep down, that one day I would. Especially since an experience a few months ago, when I walked into a classical music store and they were playing something which stopped me in my tracks. I thought, this is actually the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in all my life. And it was Felicity Lott singing Reynaldo Hahn. So I when I saw these two CDs on sale I decided it was time. The Schumann is lovely, though the darker moments of Liederkreis probably do really need a male voice to do them justice. The real revelation, not surprisingly, is the disc of French songs. It's a couple of decades old, and she's in ravishing voice. The repertoire helps as well — I could just about re-title this Felicity Lott Sings MY Favourite French Songs. Gounod's "Sérénade", Fauré's "Le papillon et la fleur" and Bizet's "Les adieux de l'hotesse arabe" are all among the mélodies I love best. Alongside the favourites are songs I've never heard before — Bizet's  florid and fabulous "Guitare" and Wagner's "L'attente" which, weirdly enough, is the shortest track on the disc. Both CDs are excellent but this French recital is the real tour de force — if Felicity is now to be friend rather than foe, I couldn't have chosen a better starting point.

New toys

One of my semi regular secondhand haunts has laid its hands on what I suspect is part of a deceased estate — almost an entire bookshelf full of CDs, most of them vocal recital discs and most of those by mezzos and sopranos. Yes. You can imagine my glee; and now you can wonder at my superhuman self restraint. I only bought six. They are —

La traviata. Joan Sutherland, Carlo Bergonzi, Robert Merrill; conducted by John Pritchard. This one of the series which Decca re-released last year in their midprice range to celebrate Joanie's 80th. I, however, was too stingy even for that. Ten dollars, on the other hand, I can definitely cope with. Of course it's worth far more. Everything I can say about Joan's Violetta is just stating the obvious. I mean, we're not expecting the kind of shattering credibility of, say, Anna Moffo (still my One True Violetta) or, if she's your cup of tea, Maria Callas. But as a sheer sonic experience this must be unparalleled. It just cannot be possible for one human being to produce so much beauty from within herself; where in the world (or outside of it) does that sound come from? This is bliss. No, it's not hugely involving as drama; but as a transcendent musical experience she's beyond compare. And even when Joanie's not around, it ain't half bad. Bergonzi? Yes, please. And I love Robert Merrill. 

Handel Opera Arias — Nathalie Stutzmann. Handel arias + contralto + Hanover Band = combination I can't resist. I read the tracklisting on the back and figured, there's just no way this can fail. And I was right. She's not someone you'd sell your firstborn to hear, like Ewa Podles, but it's still a thoroughly excellent CD. The programme is suitably varied, a few well known arias alongside slightly more unusual choices and (I always give bonus points for this) no "Ombra mai fu". Interestingly, the second track is "Qui l'augel di pianta in pianta", from Aci, Galatea e Polifermo, which Natalie-without-an-H takes on in her Delirio — but the difference between the two is so vast you'd hardly recognise them as the same aria. All in all, the whole thing's an object lesson in repertoire choice, an interesting and well chosen programme which showcases her perfectly.

Rossini — Marilyn Horne. Well, what more is there to say? Peerless.

Bellini & Verdi Opera Arias — Montserrat Caballé. This is actually the second time I've bought this CD. I picked it up at the Dunedin Public Library sale but years of borrowing had damaged it beyond repair and it played no further than the third track. Like Joanie, a flood of impossibly gorgeous sound to just get lost in. I love Montserrat; I always forget how much until I hear her again. Those inevitably cited pianissimi — there's a reason nobody can mention her without bringing them up, they're heaven. And do you think Desdemona's Willow Song and Ave Maria might just be among the most distressingly beautiful pieces of music ever composed? That scene makes me feel much as the Four Last Songs do — thank god it occured to somebody to tangibly compose what, in some celestial sense, must always have existed. And I don't often feel like that in Italian opera but that scene is something else.

Chant d'amour — Cecilia Bartoli. Another one I already owned, except I didn't really and I've lost it anyway. About time I owned it properly, since I've suggested it may just be my favourite of all Cecilia's solo recordings. Not that I could ever choose just one. This is an amazing CD though, so unlike anything else she's done before or since — and yet, she's so well suited to it. No, perhaps not the most idiomatically French singer in the world but who cares? I don't think anyone conveys sincerity, simplicity and total joy in the way Cecilia can. The three Viardot songs are each of them absolute treasures. Maybe it is my definitive favourite after all; it comes close. She looks gorgeous on the cover too, very serious and française; of course on the back she's wearing one of those huge bows in her hair.

Viennese Operetta Arias — Lucia Popp. I grew up with this CD. To what extent, however, I didn't realise until it began playing. At which point it dawned on me — this CD was my introduction to, and definition of, opera. My beginning. When I was still very small, years before I could have put a name to it, this CD made me aware of the concept of opera. So I find I know this recording in the way one knows a first language; it's just there, too deeply ingrained and essential to recall or even conceive of a beginning. About Lucia herself, I find it hard to say much of any use; she's my operatic mother and you can't listen to family members critically. Still, filial obligation aside, has anyone ever sung anything so perfectly ever in the world ever? Ever?

Temptation

Shoppingwise I managed for the most part to behave myself on this trip. But good behaviour and Natalie Dessay have very little to do with one another — and surely the real sin would be saying no? So after much agonising and indecision in Thomas' Music, my spiritual home in Melbourne, I opted for a DVD of Ambroise Thomas' Hamlet, in the process resisting both Patrizia Ciofi in La traviata and the blogger formerly known as Canadienne in Così fan tutte. Both remain high on my wanted list, obviously, but I can't have everything — or at least, not all at once — so in the end Natalie had to win out.

Clearly this opera was composed for one reason only: so that one day Natalie could be in it. Just what planet is this woman from? Because she surely can't be from this boring one. The DVD is worth having just for Ophélie's mad scene and suicide, which Natalie performs with such unsettling brilliance you almost feel you ought to look away. Except you can't. On a purely vocal level she's incredible, naturally, but beyond that, she manages to find and express real, credible significance in all the acrobatics — far more, surely, than even the composer meant to put there. She's a phenomenon. Then there's the rest. The mad scene is Ophélie's big moment but Natalie is just as spellbinding in her smaller ones too. And as if she weren't enough on her own, she's paired with Simon Keenlyside's simply stunning Hamlet. I approached this purely as a Natalie vehicle and assumed I'd grow impatient whenever Hamlet was onstage sans Ophélie. I even told myself I was allowed to skip a track or two if I was missing her too much. No chance. He's as compelling in his own way as she is — not something I say lightly, and especially not about a boy. But this boy's fantastic and, like Natalie, both a fabulous singer and a real actor. They're so good you can ignore the horrendous liberties taken by the librettist, their performances so penetrating and committed it might as well be Shakespeare.

There's much much more to be said about this Hamlet but it wouldn't do much good. This is the kind of performance which needs to be seen. The wonders of YouTube (surprise surprise) mean you can in fact see part of the mad scene right now. But honestly, if you can, you it to yourself to see the whole thing and on as big a screen as possible.

And then there's Delirio. I've longed for this CD since the moment I read of its release. Rightly so, it turns out. This may just prove to be my favourite of all Natalie's CDs so far. She's in drop dead gorgeous voice, she's singing Handel cantatas, and Emmanuelle Haïm conducts. If it didn't exist I'd have dreamt it: every element of this disc is something I adore individually, and here they are united! Natalie proves she can pull off baroque madness just as spectacularly as the bel canto variety; Emmanuelle and Le Concert d'Astrée are just as beautifully insane. The first cantata on the CD, Delirio amoroso, is one I know via Magdalena Kozena but I almost didn't recognise it. Natalie's and Emmanuelle's rendition is a far more haunting, fragile kind of mania than Magdalena's blood'n'guts raging, more varied in tone and colour, and ultimately probably more successful. Then there's "Qui l'augel da pianta in pianta" from Aci, Galatea e Polifemo, followed by a second cantata, the gorgeous "Mi palpita il cor", all of it sung with shining loveliness and some dazzling ornamentation. There's a slightly dreamlike quality to the whole recording, a sheen and a lightness of touch which distinguish it from the two other Handel cantata discs I have, Magdalena's and Véronique's, both a little darker and earthier. Fabulous stuff. More Handel please Natalie, as much and as quickly as possible.

Serendipity

Wandering more or less aimlessly after a trip to the MDC Opera shop I stumbled across Travis & Emery, a music bookshop. The kind of shop which, though it's tiny, one could spend hours and hours in. I was there for a long time, browsing through scores, a million and one composer biographies, playbills, programmes, everything you could imagine and several things you mightn't. And as I was leaving I spotted a leaflet. "Handel's Giulio Cesare: From Egypt to England". A temporary exhibition on at the Foundling Museum, of which I'd never heard. So I checked out the website and discovered that, as the front page states:

The Foundling Museum tells the story of the Foundling Hospital, London's first home for abandoned children and of three major figures in British history: its campaigning founder the philanthropist Thomas Coram, the artist William Hogarth and the composer George Frideric Handel. This remarkable collection of art and social history is now housed in a restored and refurbished building adjacent to the original site of the Hospital, demolished in 1926.

Turns out the Foundling Museum houses the Gerald Coke Handel collection, which can be read about here. Needless to say I made my way there as soon as possible and it was without question among the highlights of my stay. Forget the Handel for a moment: the history of the Foundling Hospital is fascinating enough on its own. Then there's the art collection. The Giulio Cesare exhibition was interesting too. But oh, the Handel room: possibly my favourite place in all of London. Artworks, manuscripts, ephemera, letters...and easy chairs which play music. Imagine it, sit back in a leather armchair, press a button and there's Joan Sutherland in stereo. I need one. I never wanted to leave and spent a rather long time with the bust of Handel out on the landing, feeling rather tearful and grateful. And I even got all scholarly and returned in my final week for a talk by Dr. Andrew Jones (Cambridge, you know) entitled "A character transform'd", about Handel's Cleopatra. Very interesting, and it deserved a larger audience than the six or seven of us who were there; he's an excellent speaker but even better, most of his samples came from the Cesare recording with Magdalena Kozena as Cleopatra. Others came from a real live soprano named Susanna, also lovely.

But anyway, that's not the serendipity story.

On Friday, my final full day in London, I ended up with a few hours to fill in before heading out to Holland Park for The Merry Widow. Finding myself in Charing Cross, I wondered whether I might stumble upon Travis & Emery again. Stumble upon, because I have zero sense of direction and thus had not a chance of finding it on purpose. Seconds later, I found it. Once inside I determined to buy myself a present or two. Maybe a vocal score to murder on the piano. And why not something edifying and educational? I picked up all manner of things and replaced most of them. I started looking through the opera shelves, still determined to choose something suitable serious and scholarly. The title Backstage at the Opera was thus precisely what I didn't intend to buy but all the same, as I told myself this very fact, I picked it up. And saw this:

You probably can't see the photo very clearly at that size. I'll make it larger.

Recognise the gorgeous blonde? I certainly did.

And so I thought: how wonderful, a backstage book with a photo of Yvonne Kenny on the cover. I'll need to own that. Then I read the blurb.

"Backstage at the Opera takes the reader on a journey through the making of one of the English National Opera's most popular and enduring operas, Xerxes."

Right. That would be the Xerxes starring Yvonne then. That would be why she's on the cover. That would be why she wrote the foreword.

I never knew this book existed. I found Travis & Emery by accident and found it a second time by accident. I picked the book up by pure chance, looking for something quite different. So that's serendipity at its most glorious. I had a hard time containing my glee. I had to duck around a corner so nobody else in the shop would catch me grinning like an idiot, and fought back the urge to laugh out loud as I re-emerged into the world, book in hand. I came dangerously close to skipping down Charing Cross Rd. In some moments you just know the heavens are smiling upon you.

New children

My tendency to go crazy in overseas CD shops has probably not gone unnoticed. I was well behaved this time, however. I was in fact remarkably well restrained. For two weeks. Then it all went out the window. So, as usual, an overview of my latest acquisitions.

Obviously I continued in my mad completist efforts. This gets harder and harder, as you can imagine, because at this point there really aren't very many entries in the Yvonne Kenny discography which I don't already own.  Nevertheless I tracked down a few of the stragglers:

Beethoven's Symphony No. 9, the London Classical Players under Roger Norrington. You know, the recording of this symphony which I threatened would, no matter how inappropriate an introduction, would be my first on account of its soprano soloist. Until now I've only seen it as part of a complete set of Norrington's Beethoven symphonies, and although even that was cheap, I nevertheless didn't want all of them. Anyway I finally found it on its own.

Mahler Plays Mahler: The Welte-Mignon Piano Rolls. This is where being a lunatic comes in handy. The CD was shrinkwrapped. There's no indication anywhere, front or back, of the presence of any singers. But because I'm, well, me, I knew she was there. One song. The  fourth movement from Symphony No. 4. As ever she's simply too wonderful to be allowed. And not to miss the point entirely: it's fascinating and not a little spooky to hear Mahler played by Mahler.

Lucio Silla. I cannot tell you in how many CD stores in how many cities I have scanned the Mozart shelves for this. Once, long ago, I did so because it starred Cecilia Bartoli. These days because it features the one-and-only in a gallingly small role as Cinna. Being opera seria, though, she still gets three arias. And being opera seria, they're preposterously difficult, full of acrobatics and high high high notes, all those things I love to hear. So we try not to think about the fact that Yvonne had also sung Giunia earlier on, stepping in for an ailing Edita Gruberova (who's back in the role for this recording). Obviously I'd give anything to hear that. But then I also wouldn't want now to hear anyone else as Cinna so she'd need to sing both roles. Fine with me.

Vaughan Williams : A Pastoral Symphony. These days I own more Vaughan Williams than I'd ever have expected, but the words "soprano soloist" are potent indeed. Actually I almost didn't buy this one. Not because I didn't want it, or because (laughable thought indeed!) I thought maybe a brief wordless solo in the last movement wasn't quite worth the price of the disc. No. Rather because - and perhaps I shouldn't admit this - I honestly couldn't remember whether I owned it already or not. Had to happen at some point. I scanned through the list in my mind as best I could, but it's not exactly easy to keep track of 70-odd CDs in one's mind. I knew I had the Sea Symphony, also conducted by Bryden Thomson, also on Chandos, also with a murky Turner on the cover. Did I have this as well? Eventually I decided I didn't and returned a week later to buy it. Luckily I was right. I don't have it already. Not that I necessarily object to owning two copies of anything (I'll get to that issue soon) but if I had already owned it, I'd be feeling terribly guilty now for not remembering it.

Britten: Four Burns Songs, Folksongs, A Charm of Lullabies. Oh now this one was madness. I bought it on vinyl. At significantly more than the Amazon CD price. Why? Well because I didn't realise (or had forgotten) it was available on Amazon until last night. And because I've grown so tired of not owning it I just wanted to have done with it all and buy it. And because, come on, it's Yvonne! Sadly she's sharing duties with Carolyn Watkinson but the first side at least is all hers. A few of the songs are on her later disc of English songs, but others aren't, the Burns songs included. Yvonne singing in Scots for Melba is one of the most adorable things I've ever heard in my life so I'm looking forward to these especially. I only wish she could have recorded the Charm of Lullabies as well. And yes I know it's intended for a lower voice but she'd do them magnificently I know.

Right. And then I remembered that there are, it seems, several other sopranos in existence on this planet. Hence:

Véronique Gens: Tragédiennes. I resisted this several times, thinking there was no need (except my need for instant gratification) to buy this in expensive London rather than from reasonable Marbecks. But then I listened to Patricia Petibon singing  one of the Lully arias included on Véronique's CD and thought, enough is enough, I need to hear Véronique's take on this as soon as I possibly can. So, miser that I am, I trekked from Hither Green (that's south) all the way to Les Aldrich's in Muswell Hill (that's north) where it was a whole £1.49 cheaper than elsewhere. Only to discover it the following day at the Piccadilly Virgin Megastore for a further £1.51 less. Never mind. It's worth a million times more, as you'd expect. I thought I couldn't possibly feel any more admiration for Véronique but she's gone and done it. At one point I dared to try and leave the room at one point but she launched into Circe's invocation Leclair's Scylla et Glaucus and drew me right back in: I knew even before I checked the booklet that she must be in evil sorceress mode. Terrifying. I'm going to have more to say about this CD, though not tonight.

Vivaldi Motets: Patrizia Ciofi. While I was in Les Aldrich's and thus open to temptation, this somehow leapt into my hand as well. You need to own it. Whoever you may be. At least as addictive as her disc with Joyce DiDonato. The kind of disc which, when it finishes, you just play over again. And again. And again. Which is exactly what I'm doing as I write this.

And finally, Diana Montague: Bella immagin. Alright. Please believe me, this is not as backhanded as it sounds. But I did feel I owed a little something to Diana Montague, who withdrew from Opera Holland Park's Fedora thus opening the way for Yvonne. Is that a terrible thing to say? Yes. So I'm sorry. But I have another reason for buying this - a compilation from her work with Opera Rara - which is even worse: track 7 is a trio from Paer's Sofonisba with Keith Lewis and Yvonne Kenny. And the only other way I could hear this would be to spend at least $100 - probably more - on one of Opera Rara's 100 Years of Italian Opera sets. I'm despicable. I know it. But aside from all that, I do actually like Diana Montague. She's a delightful Opera in English Octavian and brilliant in Il crociato in Egitto and other Opera Rara bits I happen to own. So I'm not entirely evil. And I'm sure I'll love the whole CD. Strangely enough there's also a Rossini duet with Yvonne here which also appears on Yvonne's Opera Rara compilation. Never occured to me it was a duet...

Ah, la mia lista...

Time again for the Regent Theatre's annual 24 hour secondhand book sale. In the past I've hung around until late at night but I guess I must be getting old: I swooped in this afternoon, picked up a healthy stack of records, and departed while it was still daylight. This year's haul (the best yet):

Leontyne Price: Prima Donna. Volume 3. "Great Soprano Arias from Gluck to Poulenc". The latter name was the hook for me, though I bought this as much as anything else for the fabulous mock-Mucha cover art.

Anna Russell Sings?; Anna Russell Sings! Again?; Anna Russell in Darkest Africa. I love Anna Russell. Most of the contents of  these records I've heard before, but haven't owned till now. I have a semi-signed copy of her autobiography somewhere too.

Mirella Freni: Recital - Puccini & Verdi. Can you believe until now I haven't owned a single solo recording by Mirella?

Roberta Peters: Famous Operatic Arias. Just for you, Michael.

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf in Songs You Love. Because it's Elisabeth. And because several of them are Songs I Love.

Operatic Recital by Eileen Farrell. I love Eileen's Puccini LP which I bought a couple of sales ago; when I saw that this one included "Adieu, forêts" I was sold.

Kirsten Flagstad: Bach & Handel Recital. This is not repertoire I immediately associate with Kirsten Flagstad, whom I've liked a lot in the little I've heard of her — I'm intrigued. Especially by the prospect of her Semele in "O sleep".

Grace Bumbry singt Grosse Arien der Internationalen Oper. There's nothing here which isn't in the pink boxed set but I just wanted this one for its adorable cover, Gracie in her pearls looking ready for church.

Janet Baker & Gerald Moore : A Pageant of English Son 1597 - 1961. You just know it's going to be good.

Berganza Sings Rossini. Ditto.

Milanov: Operatic Arias. I've never actually heard a single note of Zinka Milanov so I thought it was about time I stopped feeling ashamed and did something about that.

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf Sings Mozart Operatic Arias. I ended up with two copies of this in the pile and in the end chose the one with the prettier cover. (You might have noticed a recurring theme here.)

Gladys Swarthout: Chausson's Poeme de l'amour et de la mer & A French Song Recital. Everything else I selected based on artist, but this one I bought on account of the Chausson. I love Jessye's recording of it so I'm interested to hear another. And the French Song Recital includes a few Poulenc songs, always a bonus.

Régine Crespin: Italian Operatic Arias. Available on CD, one of those I've picked up and put back a dozen times. A 50c LP is rather easier to say yes to.

Kiri in Concert. Kiri recorded live in New Zealand and Australia, 1965-66. There are excerpts here from a couple of farewell concerts and from her performances at the Mobil Song Quest and the Sun Aria Contest, both of which she won of course. The notes on the back include these marvellous words: "Kiri, now studying at the London Opera Centre, is from all accounts making excellent progress, and informed observers consider she has great potential in the field of opera." You think?

When in the world will I ever find the time to listen to all of these?

Still not a Falstaff review

But a chance to show off my newest and shiniest toys. I did actually tell myself I wouldn't go madly shopping this time but what can I say, it's an addiction, I can't help myself.

Portraits: Leyla Gencer - Donizetti, Verdi, Catalani. 
In May last year there was brief clip of Leyla Gencer during the Met broadcast intermission. I don't even remember what it was, but the voice appealed to me immediately and I was full of good intentions to hear more. But I never actually did anything except listen to tinny Amazon samples and keep on intending to buy a CD sometime. Finally I have, and happily I'm just as enchanted by an hour of Leyla as I was by 20 seconds. It's always gratifying when that happens, nice to find that once in a while at least I can trust my first impressions of a voice. Bodes well for Elisabeth Söderström whom I've been meaning to hear properly for years after hearing about two and a half Tchaikovsky songs on radio late one night. One day. I don't quite see a future as a Leyla Gencer devotee stretching out in front of me but I definitely wouldn't say no to hearing more.

Classic Recitals: Joan Sutherland. 
Well, having exhausted the solo discography of one Australian coloratura I had no choice but to try another, right? No of course I don't actually mean that. I have a lot of affection for Joanie. And very few recordings. But this one begins to address that situation and it's phenomenal. The one solo album I already owned, a disc of French arias from 1970, though pretty impressive in itself, did not prepare me for the astounding virtuosity and equally astounding gorgeousness of this recording. Surely the universe ought to have imploded the moment the record was made, just out of the sheer impossibility of it all.

Classic Recitals: Gwyneth Jones.
I've lost count of the number of times I've picked this up in CD stores around Australia, only to put it back in the end for whatever reason and choose something else. Finally this time I took it. I'll admit right now that the reason it's tempted me for so long is fantastically superficial. I love the cover photo. And her Marschallin on film is so beguiling I've always felt I should acquire a recording of her sometime. Now I have. I haven't heard it yet.

Gundula Janowitz: Mozart Concert Arias. 
I've assumed for years, based solely on her repertoire, that I'd like Gundula Janowitz if ever I heard her. And amazingly, given my weakness for Mozart sopranos, it has taken until now for me to hear a single note. Truly. Unless I've forgotten something, which I don't think I have. Of course I was right and I like her a lot. Precisely my cup of tea. Which anybody with even the shakiest grasp of my taste in sopranos could no doubt have told me. The repertoire on this recording is, naturally, dazzlingly ideal. Refreshing too, because while I have innumerable Mozart aria discs, most are of opera arias rather than concert arias, and so for once there are tracks here which I don't have ten thousand other versions of.

Lucia di Lammermoor.
I bought two, both with Joan: a 1961 studio recording, and a 1982 film from the Met. I haven't got to either yet, but will. Apart from the fact that I shouldn't really be calling myself an opera devotee if I haven't heard Joan as Lucia, I'll be seeing my first live Lucia in Christchurch this year so I'd like to be somewhat acquainted with it, and I'd much rather learn with Joanie than with anybody else.

Roberto Devereux. 
This was my greatest extravagance, a rather outrageously priced DVD from VAI, with Beverly Sills, whom I worship but have never yet seen in action, as Elisabetta. I'm certain this film can't be anything except fabulous in the extreme.

Andreas Scholl: Arias for Senesino. 
I saw Andreas Scholl in recital while I was in Sydney (review forthcoming, probably). I decided on the spur of the moment while buying a programme that I'd get a CD as well - they had a number on sale - and chose this rather than Wayfaring Stranger (which is where the recital repertoire came from) as a slightly safer choice in view of my sensibilities. The recital was excellent, and this CD is too. To my ears he sounds best when in happy-in love or liltingly melancholy mode. The heroic coloratura is secure and masterfully executed to be sure, but slightly on the mechanical side; it's when he's allowed to sing a lover, rather than a fighter, that the sound and expression truly blossom. This is a mere quibble however, the CD is a success and an impulse buy I don't regret.

Graham Pushee: Handel Arias.
Graham Pushee is the Australian countertenor who is Cesare to Yvonne Kenny's Cleopatra in Opera Australia's 1994 Giulio Cesare. The one who even I concede might just be worthy of her. (Well maybe not quite, but almost.) It's not often that, while skipping merrily through DVD tracks to Yvonne's next aria, I stop and let one of the boys sing, but on occasion I've done just that for Graham. His is a sharper-edged sound than Andreas', but with equal capacity for great beauty and I'm looking forward to hearing this CD when I have the chance. As an added bonus, he's backed by the Brandenburg Orchestra, who also appear on Yvonne's disc of Handel arias and are meltingly superb.

Lucia Popp: Opera Arias. 
Lucia is my operatic mother, certainly the most important single performer in the formation of my love of opera: both its existence and the shape it has taken. Because of that I listen to her in a way unlike any other singer: I'm unable to criticise or really even to analyse her singing. It's unconditional love. With others, it's possible for me to adore even while recognizing less-than-shining moments; with Lucia I wouldn't know how. I've also never been obsessed by her: she simply exists in my life and always has, literally since before I can remember. I only discovered recently that this recording existed; even though I've just made clear my total lack of critical credibility, let me tell you, it's breathtaking even by her own glorious standards. In fact I'd go so far as it to say it's perfect. It's also devastating. Recorded in 1983 this is so patently not the sound of a woman with only ten years left on the planet, a reminder of how prematurely she was taken away. The sound of greatness. (And now I've gone and upset myself.)

A Hundred Years of Italian Opera: 1820 - 1830.
I'm rather fond of obscure bel canto. The three volumes in this series by Opera Rara are beautifully presented, with copious and erudite notes, illustrations and some very talented singers to boot. They're on the expensive side, but not unreasonably so, given the quality and quantity of the music (or at least the recordings thereof) presented. Certainly a worthwhile purchase. I borrowed an earlier volume from the public library and it was wonderful. I'm glad to own it. But how shall I put this. These three discs include one trio, one duet and two arias featuring Yvonne Kenny and that's what I paid for. Without them, I may never have bought this set, at any price; because they're there, I'd have paid even more if required. In fact as far as I'm concerned, the aria "Ama ed amato io sono" on its own repays me in full. It's one of the most florid, testing pieces I've ever heard her sing; a fearless and electrifying yet always graceful performance, and so technically demanding it leaves me exhausted afterwards.

Madamina...

My 2005 Melbourne musical haul is as follows:

Donizetti: Ugo, Conte di Parigi (Opera Rara)
Offenbach: Robinson Crusoe (Opera Rara)
Handel: Messiah. William Christie & Les Arts Florissants (Harmonia Mundi)
Handel: Giulio Cesare - highlights. (ABC Classics)
Britten: Gloriana (Decca)
Berkeley: Ruth (Chandos)

Howells: Orchestral Works, vol. 2 (Chandos)
Vaughan Williams: Sancta Civitas; Dona Nobis Pacem (EMI)
Vaughan Williams: A Sea Symphony (Chandos)
Bernstein: Kaddish, Symphony no. 3; Chichester Psalms (Naxos)
Gorecki: Symphony no. 3 (ABC Classics)

The Singers: Beverly Sills (Decca)
Mozart Opera & Concert Arias: Elina Garanca (Virgin Veritas)
The Very Best of Brigitte Fassbaender (EMI)

Oh sure, it looks well-balanced. But ten of these fourteen recordings have something, or at least someone, in common. And speaking of CDs and unbalance: in a quiet moment last week, I tallied up my Yvonne Kenny collection for the first time and reached a total of 52 - that's CDs, DVDs, videos and records. Which as you might have realised, averages out nicely to one recording per week in the year that this mania has been going on. Couldn't have worked it out better if I'd tried.

Sale

I didn't go to the Public Library sale today with particularly high hopes. But, well...

Now that's just silly.

Shopping in Auckland

Very odd visit(s) to Marbecks Classical this weekend. Since I was there in April the shop has halved in size - and it was already pretty packed. There's a strange smell in one corner, over near the Handel and Haydn. Their fabulous selection of opera on DVD is arranged not by composer but by title, which makes for a slightly odd browsing experience. Though I suppose that's the way movie DVDs are laid out, so it makes some sort of sense. Sort of. The music playing in store when I arrived was Christmas carols arranged for harp, blasting out of the speakers at incredibly high volume - and though no doubt the harpist was some fabulous virtuosic genius, it was still a little too 'Best of Relaxing Classics' for me and didn't put me in a particularly good mood. When that ended it was followed by near silence, something orchestral too soft to make out. And is the free bag of designer coffee they're giving away with Sandrine Piau's Opera Seria CD the reason it's number one on the Concert FM charts? I think it probably is.

And here as elsewhere, Felicity Lott Torments Me. Have I mentioned this before? I'm being followed by Felicity Lott. Or possibly, I am (against my will) following Felicity Lott. As I go my merry Yvonne Kenny obsessed way, I constantly find Felicity where Yvonne should be. Wearing her Marschallin costumes. Recording roles Yvonne has only sung on stage. They were even one after the other on the Askonas Holt sopranos list until Anna May Leese came between them. So browsing through the Naxos collection (which seems rather inordinately large given the size of the shop) I spotted a CD of William Walton songs. Dare I look? though I. Those Walton songs may just be the best thing Yvonne has ever recorded, can I bear even to see the name of another singer associated with them? But I had to look - and sure enough, 'Soprano: Felicity Lott'. I almost laughed out loud. I didn't buy it. However when I returned on Saturday (after the previous day's purchases I only needed one more Beethoven stamp on my loyalty card, so figured it was worth having another look around) it occured to me that I wanted to get my hands on a recording or two of La Voix Humaine in order to familiarise myself with it somewhat before seeing it in Melbourne in December. Naturally Marbecks only held one recording of it. Naturally it was Felicity Lott's. This I did buy. After all, the reviews for it are fabulous - and at least in this case, I'll hear Felicity and then Yvonne. I think we can guess which one will be the definitive 'Elle' of my lifetime. Though speaking of the definitive 'Elle' - I wouldn't mind owning Denise Duval's recording of it either.

Real Groovy's classical section, on the other hand, offered me nothing. 50 million secondhand copies of Aled Jones' CD Higher. And Haunted Heart which I do not want. Why did Renée's prettiest cover photo ever have to be on her jazz CD?

But in the end I'm a happy and somewhat poorer person, and now the proud owner of the following:

Medea in Corinto. Oh, I paid much too much for this opera. Or, alternatively, I paid a civilised amount for the opera, and an extra $37.95 for the photo in the liner notes of the soprano singing Creusa. And when I go now and listen to it, it will of course be worth every extravagant cent.
The Marriage of Figaro. Yes, in English. I'm not quite sure how I'll ever make myself listen to Act One though - with my darling Yvonne singing the Countess, I'll quite happily let things begin with 'Porgi amor'. Such a heathen.
Die Zauberflöte. Gorgeous red cover + bargain price = worthwhile purchase. And then there's my beloved William Christie conducting, and chère Mlle Dessay singing the Königin. Irresistible.
Anna Moffo - Arias. AKA The Beige Album. I spent many months head over heels in love with Anna and yet somehow in all that time acquired only three CDs, only one of which was a solo disc. But I have this now. And it was free! Thankyou loyalty card.
Sara Mingardo - Monteverdi, Vivaldi, Handel. And despite the title, many other composers too. I've only heard a little of it so far but I can tell she's my kind of girl.
And as I said, Poulenc's La Voix Humaine with the Ubiquitous Lott. Also includes La Dame de Monte-Carlo, a short monologue, once again with text by Cocteau.

Spree

Patience, it would seem, is a virtue I do not possess (not that I ever thought otherwise.) We will get the Met broadcast Tosca here eventually, but not for more than a month. And I was already missing my dear Maria von Hindenburg (aka La Guleghina). So I managed to acquire temporarily a DVD of her La Scala Tosca to keep me going. Thankfully things were a little more seaworthy than the recent performance Sieglinde laments.

You're right, it's scandalous that I should choose such a creature as my very first Tosca ever. But let's be honest: I wasn't watching this for an introduction to Tosca so much as a continuation of my acquaintance with Maria. And in that respect it was absolutely a success. I adore her still. 'Vissi d'arte' was not, shall we say, a shining moment, but I've never loved it too dearly anyway; for this particular Tosca I was much more interested in the high dramatics, the running, stabbing, jumping off buildings side of it all; and more than that, in some nice reckless singing from Maria. She delivered, and I was glad. And on Monday - oh agony, oh ecstasy - my Nabucco DVD arrives.

And speaking of uncharacteristic attractions: looks like I've gone and fallen for José Cura. The eagle-eyed might have picked this a few weeks ago, when I was rather taken by his appearances in a couple of Verdi galas. Well, this afternoon I went on a library spree, and among my haul was Mr Cura's Puccini arias. I'm really not supposed to swoon for tenors but it was really quite unavoidable. Unexpected, too, despite my earlier interest in him. I put the CD because I figured that, among the four I borrowed today, it was the least likely to distract me while I wrote something here. I was mistaken. And unable even to consider writing anything until he was finished. It's all just so very rich and beautiful. And so interesting too: for once, even in the big hits, I'm not just hearing the familiar tunes and the money notes, but the individual singer and his gorgeous, expressive voice. It's hard for me to pick out any favourite moments. 'Parigi! è la citte dei desideri' from La Rondine was a highlight, certainly. It's to the same tune as a Puccini song, as it turns out: I recognised it from Patricia Wright's glorious CD Serenata (the same CD contains Puccini's 'Sole e amore', incidentally, which has a few moments in common with 'Donde lieta.) Can I enjoy the high-note flourish at the end as much when it comes from a tenor instead of a soprano? Apparently so. The arias from Fanciulla were also excellent, and entirely new to me. And - although perhaps I oughtn't admit it - I loved 'Nessun dorma'. 'Non piangere Liu' was even better though. And if I don't stop myself there, I may never finish. I'm even considering buying his CD Anhelo, which Records Records is selling for $10.

Today was a bit of a money-spending day really. In addition to the Nabucco DVD and the library spree, I bought Marina Mescheriakova's 'Soprano Arias' CD. It's a Naxos disc, I've never heard of the woman before, but it was cheap so I thought I might as well own it. I also thought it was time I listened to some Grace Bumbry, given I shall find myself in her presence in less than a month. So I ordered a 3 CD set of early recordings from Amazon, which looks fabulous. And since I was already there, I succumbed to temptation and ordered a DVD of Giulio Cesare featuring The Goddess Yvonne as Cleopatra. (Funnily enough, according to this addictive little amusement, Cleopatra - along with Lucrezia Borgia - is quite possibly my Dead Celebrity Soulmate. I shan't complain about that!)

New at Antologia: Face Powder

Grace!

Here she is: Ms Grace Bumbry, judge of the 2005 Lexus SongQuest. I'm so excited. I've been waiting for months to find out who the judge would be. I had my fingers crossed for a soprano or a mezzo - and in Grace I get both. I'm also extra glad that it's somebody I actually have an opinion of. I'm easily impressed by celebrity, so I'd probably have got excited about anyone whose name I recognised, regardless of whether I'd ever heard them sing. But Grace! I love Grace. Alright, so my experience of Grace is limited to her Lotte Lehmann-tribute Liederabend at the Chatelet, which was on TV. But she charmed me utterly, and I think she's fabulous. And the Sunday after next, she'll be on the radio as Amneris in the Met archive broadcast of Aida. It gets better too: part of the SongQuest judging deal is a series of masterclasses. I'm going to Auckland for the contest final, so I might catch the one up there, but in any case, there's not a thing on earth will keep me away from her Dunedin one. Grace Bumbry in our very own hometown! I'm very, very happy.

And perhaps I can blame my Grace-induced happiness for my extravagance today. $150 at Real Groovy. Usually I look without buying five or six times before finally pulling out the wallet but today I threw caution to the wind and bought (almost) everything that caught my fancy. Actually my original pile totalled over $200 but I chose to resist the Best Of CDs of Mady Mesplé, Régine Crespin and Kirsten Flagstad for the time being. However, I did buy:

Monteverdi's L'Orfeo, with Natalie Dessay, Patrizia Ciofi, Véronique Gens and ten thousand other singers. And it's conducted by Emmanuelle Haïm, who fascinates me.

The Essential Jessye Norman. This consists of a 'best of' CD and a DVD entitled Jessye Norman Sings Carmen and thus, at $34.95, seems to me an exceedingly good deal.

Mozart's Requiem, with soprano soloist Yvonne Kenny. And other soloists, and a choir, and an orchestra, and a conductor I suppose.

The Best of Beverly Sills. Another one who has been sitting on the to-do list for too long. Then last week I heard a soprano on the radio and thought "She's gorgeous, who is she?" And she was Beverly, being played because she'd announced that day her retirement from the Met board.

Finally, a surprise. Another boy. My ever second solo CD by a male singer. This time it's Juan Diego Florez: Great Tenor Arias. I figure if I'm going to widen my horizons and introduce some degree of gender equality, I need to start with the easy stuff: nice voices, familiar repertoire, that sort of thing.

And as if just buying it wasn't enough fun, now I get to listen to it. Buona notte!

Now listening to: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Requiem. 'Benedictus'. (Oh Yvonne!)

CD shops

I'm starting to feel a little less grumpy about Real Groovy's takeover of Echo in Dunedin (to the unaware- big CD store chain's takeover of somewhat smaller franchise). It's looking to me like they're eventually going to drop the little Echo all together: the one in the Golden Centre which has the half-decently sized classical section. The clearance tables out front get fuller and fuller, and the signage has been left as is- whereas at the big branch there's barely a trace of Echo's pink-and-black. This did have me seriously worried: the classical section at the bigger Echo consisting of about 30 CDs, and none of them being very appealing, so the thought that the one real classical section in town might be on its way out was not a happy one. But something rather surprising has happened: Real Groovy mightn't have a huge interest in their classical section but they obviously have a much more intelligent policy about it than Echo did: it's not huge, but it's significantly bigger now than a few months ago; and even better, the old boring nothingness is being replaced by real stuff, new releases and important performances and things like that. The Nozze di Figaro conducted by René Jacobs, for instance, which seems to be winning awards left right and centre; a Jessye Norman CD/DVD which (curses) someone has already snaffled; Emmanuelle Haïm's L'Orfeo; and plenty of Natalie Dessay: she's in the aforementioned Orfeo, I bought her new Strauss CD there a while back and- something unheard of in the Echo days- there's actually another copy on the shelves now. And today I found her Mozart Heroines, inexplicably concealed among 'Classical: New Zealand". So I'm optimistic. We may see the end of the small Echo's classical section, but despite its size it has been disappointingly unchanging lately, and I think the loss will be endurable. And there will still be Disk Den, who are rather good; and The Warehouse for $2.99 discoveries. Besides, there's my bank account to consider: if we had a Parsons here I'd be broke within minutes.

Of course there are other avenues anyway. TradeMe.co.nz for one. Although admittedly, the classical CDs up for grabs there are 99% Sarah Brightman, Andrea Bocelli and hideous budget-priced bits of violin. However last night I gloried in the remaining 1%- Yvonne Kenny: Somethine Wonderful for $8.95 including postage from Auckland. I'd like to take this opportunity to congratulate myself. And it gets even better. I bought this believing it was a CD of Broadway songs. That's right, I thought it was a soprano singing show tunes and I chose to own it; usually I'd run away screaming from the prospect but the combination of Yvonne and an excellent bargain persuaded me to buy it regardless. Then this afternoon I thought I'd be brave and have a look at a tracklist: and it's not the Broadway album! She did make one, called something else. I assumed because of the title that this was it, but I was mistaken: it's mostly operatic and sacred arias, plus some lieder, some English songs, and just two or three Broadway type things. If I'd known that, I'd willingly have paid far more. This way is better though: here I am, happy to have paid $8.95 for something I'm not supposed to much like, and find that instead I've bought (apologies for the old man humour, it wasn't intentional) something wonderful.

Finally, for those keeping score, a Renée update. I'm beginning to get the hang of her Handel CD. It's taken a bit of effort, but I'm getting there. The thing, I think, has been to stop wanting the voice to go right through me, and let it just surround me instead. Because once I do that, it really is quite something. I still have a few issues. The main one- forgive me for me total lack of anything like the right vocabulary- is the sort of jerky 'thud' she seems to hit at the end of phrases sometimes. I know what I mean- I doubt anybody else does. It's strange, because the acrobatic patches where I'd expect it to happen, it doesn't; it's in other places. That's the main challenge for me at the moment. The other is the 'nya'-ish sound which happens on the odd word. But I'm learning to forgive and even enjoy: partly with the aid of Cecilia Bartoli and Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, both of whom have had various, better-worded criticisms levelled at them of similar things to my Renée issues, and in both of whom I adore exactly those things which the critics decrie. One other thing did rather help out with the Renée-Handel experience last night: I spent three hours smiling, shrieking, laughing and crying my way through the first 90 pages of The Inner Voice. I'm not going to ruin even the smallest surprise for anyone planning to read it (and everyone who reads this blog ought to) but it's fabulous. Honestly, I think all opera singers should be required to write one of these.

Before I go, if I can just revive CD du jour briefly, I'd like to recommend Opera Rara's A Hundred Years of Italian Opera: 1810-1820. 3 CDs of stuff you've never heard and it's gorgeous. I borrowed it from the library on account of Yvonne's presence, but there are Della Jones and the excellent Diana Montague as well, along with about a million others. It's beautiful music, and lots of fun to hear: there's not a single opera in there I'd heard of, and only a handful of composers with familiar names. Yvonne's scene from Mayr's Medea in Corinto is stunning; and the excerpt from Morlacchi's Il Barbiere di Siviglia- from the point at which everyone is trying to make Don Basilio go away- is a delight, particularly for its Rosina, Marilyn Hill Smyth.

Housekeeping II

Plunging right back in:

Alcina. It's confession time: I was too miserly to fork out the $75 for the complete Alcina with Renée, Natalie and Susan Graham, so I bought the highlights instead. Maybe one day I'll be feeling affluent enough for the whole thing- there's no denying it's worth the money. Judging by these highlights anyway. Of course, it's a CD after my own heart: the stars of this opera are all girls so it follows that the highlights contain only girls too: Renée as Alcina, Natalie as Morgana, Susan as Ruggiero and Kathleen Kuhlmann as Bradamante. Renée is magnificent. Four of her arias are here and they're gorgeous: better than the Handel on her Handel CD. 'Si son quella' is playing right now and it's just meltingly good. Natalie is as great as I expected: I'd already heard her 'Tornami a vagheggiar' but she also has another aria on this CD, 'Ama, sospira'. I love the woman. I really do. Susan Graham also excellent. And Kathleen Kuhlmann! Who knew? Most of the opera listening world no doubt, but this is the first I've heard of her and she's absolutely fantastic. Contraltos are generally pretty fabulous. I don't know if she's usually a contralto or is just listed as one for the purposes of this opera but in any case she's wonderful. I'll even risk the outraged comment from Patrick and say this: I like her better (in the highlights at least) that Susan Graham in this opera. Sorry!

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf Liederabend. It's what it purports to be, pretty much: Elisabeth live in recital. Strutting her stuff as only she can with her best friends, Mozart, Schubert, Schumann and Wolf. The loud and apparently uncut applause is a little grating (wouldn't want to listen to this one on headphones) but it is at any rate deserved. Nobody does this stuff like Elisabeth.

Jennifer Larmore: Amore per Rossini. I feel like I neglect Jennifer a bit. A year and a half or so ago, when opera was coming into its own the great passion of my life, Jennifer was one of my earliest obsessions: there were 3 or 4 songs on her Recital DVD which I was watching nightly. But as my interests broadened she moved into the background a little- and she oughtn't have. Because when I remember to listen to her I remember what a gorgeous voice it is: rich and warm and the sort of thing which makes you smile. And this CD is an excellent showcase for all that and more. Its theme is similar to Cecilia's Rossini Heroines: Rossini arias which aren't from Il Barbiere or Cenerentola, but from his serious operas instead. Good old Rossini. Two of the arias on this CD are from Matilde di Shabran and are world premières- but this is Rossini and they sound, well, rather familiar. Still, there's something comforting in the instant identifiability of Rossini, and as long as one doesn't overdose, it's rather fabulous to listen to. (Psychic moment: I just started Operadio up and it's Jennifer singing 'Una volta' from Cenerentola). Anyway, this is a very nice CD. She's rather made for these sorts of Rossini roles. As Cenerentola at this very moment she's just lacking somehow. Gorgeous voice, perfect sound but I think she's a bit too mature and grown up to be convincing. Cecilia on the other hand... but I'm off topic.

Sumi Jo: La Promessa. I've been inexplicably reluctant to give Sumi Jo a try. But I was likewise reluctant concerning Natalie Dessay and since that turned out so well (and since the CD was secondhand and cheap) I thought it was about time I listened to her. Very nice! It's a CD of Italian songs, more or less- there are also a couple of Handel arias sung with piano accompaniment so that they sound like songs. She's at a disadvantage where I'm concerned because I have a lot of this stuff being sung by the women I adore. But she holds her own nevertheless and it really is a very pretty voice. I still haven't taken the plunge and listened to her in the operatic repertoire where she's such a star, Königin der Nacht and the like, but this CD will do me for now. It's nice- and this isn't really a backhanded compliment- to some CDs that I can listen to without getting pyschologically and emotionally involved or having my heart broken, if you know what I mean. This is one of those. I like.

Le Nozze di Figaro. I can't tell you how long I've longed for this. Or rather I can: since early this year, in Melbourne, on the day I fell for Anna Moffo. When I saw that there existed a Figaro (#1 contender for favourite opera) with Anna and Elisabeth I needed it. And now finally I own it. It's great. It's what I wanted. Anna and Elisabeth being their inimitable selves, together. I haven't really had a chance to form an opinion of the rest of the cast; but Anna is adorable beyond belief and Elisabeth, well, Elisabeth was born to be the Countess and the Marschallin and thus is fabulous. The recitative frightened me at first- it reaches breakneck speeds at time- but I got used to it. Apart from anything else this is a fantastically well-acted Figaro and the recitative is part of that: Figaro and Susanna's conversation at the very beginning is so well executed you can almost forget it's being sung. Anna's 'Deh vieni' is to die for, Elisabeth is the perfect soprano to demonstrate just how much meaning there is in every note Mozart wrote, and Fiorenza Cossotto is an adorable Cherubino. By the way, don't you think it's rather lovely that Barbarina's essentially inconsquential aria ('L'ho perduta, me meschina') is so absolutely gorgeously beautiful? I've been listening to Yvonne Kenny (surprise surprise) singing it on my other Figaro and gosh. The woman has lost a pin and is stressing about being being annoyed with her- it's not earthshattering stuff- and yet she gets this unbelievable aria.

And that's all the CDs I've listened to reviewed now. There are some left: two Elisabeth CDs, plus Fledermaus which she's in as well. And her Rosenkavalier with Christa Ludwig, or at least highlights thereof. I have heard one track on it though: 'Da geht er hin..'. The passage which begins 'Die Zeit, die ist ein sonderbar Ding' is one of the best things I've ever heard (and seen) Elisabeth do: it's on the Self Portrait DVD and it's brilliant. Somebody in the anti-Elisabeth camp said that her mannered style of singing (which I know is a problem with a lot of people) makes her so proper as the Marschallin that she could never start sleeping with a teenaged boy. I disagree. I think she's exactly as she ought to be.

I have, if you can believe it, more to say. There was some Bach on the Arts Channel the other night. If we're to believe the website, it was a couple of cantatas and (I quote) Bach's Magnificent. I mean, obviously Bach is magnificent, I quite agree. But I don't think it's the title they wanted. Typical Arts Channel. Like the Classical Brit Awards, they seem to have very little grasp or appreciation of the very thing they dedicate themselves to celebrating. Anyway. I was expecting some nice Bach to keep me company during the evening, with some nice sweet sopranos. Oh no: this wasn't background music, it was brilliance. Christine Schäfer and Bernarda Fink are both absolutely amazing! I could listen to Christine sing Bach forever, and as for Bernarda, let me just say this: if she can get this much drama and meaning from a cantata, while assiduosly following score, I can only imagine how electrifying she must be on stage. Frightening at times, I should imagine. I want to see her live. And of course the whole thing was conducted by the wonderful Nikolaus Harnoncourt, whom I adore. Even if he has got scary eyes from a monster movie. He's a very clever and a very classy man.

Let's leave things there for tonight, shall we?

Il catalogo è questo

In about six hours time I'll be leaving Melbourne and coming home. No more chances to buy CDs. So let me review. This is the entire CD haul:

Barbara Bonney: Wolf & Strauss Lieder
Elisabeth Schwarzkopf: Bach & Mozart
Elisabeth Schwarzkopf: Liederabend
Elisabeth Schwarzkopf & Irmgard Seefried: Soprano duets
Patricia Petibon: French Touch
Patricia Petibon: French Baroque Arias
Natalie Dessay: Mozart Concert Arias
Natalie Dessay: Air d'opéras français
Sumi Jo: La Promessa
Die Fledermaus with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf
Le nozze di Figaro with Anna Moffo & Elisabeth Schwarzkopf
Yvonne Kenny: Handel Arias
Emma Matthews: Handel Arias
Denyce Graves: French Arias
Der Rosenkavalier Highlights with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf & Christa Ludwig
Alcina Highlights with Renée Fleming, Susan Graham & Natalie Dessay
Jennifer Larmore: Amore per Rossini

Plus four not strictly or not at all classical:

West Side Story with Barbara Bonney & Michael Ball
Ute Lemper: Punishing Kiss
Ute Lemper: City of Strangers
Alison Krauss and Union Station: Lonely Runs Both Ways

Coming to a grand total of 21 CDs in 21 days: couldn't have done better if I'd planned it. Add to that a Mozart Requiem, four live operas, one starring the to-die-for Yvonne Kenny and you (or rather, I) have one very very satisfying trip. It's been fabulous. Although I am glad to be going home: at this rate I don't think I could afford to stay much longer!

CD shopping in the blistering heat

I have no sense of direction. However I must have some sort of CD shop finding radar, because on my first afternoon here (I'm in Melbourne), with no particular memory from last time of where things were, I was nevertheless led automatically to HMV, JB HiFi and Thomas' music, all three of whom became a little richer thanks to me. And it's only just beginning.

Haven't given anything a proper listening to yet, but my purchase list at present is as follows:

Barbara Bonney: Wolf & Strauss Lieder. I'm listening to this right now and she's as unbeatable and gorgeous as ever. This was rather a nice find too, as it's on the Eloquence label: Barbara Bonney recital at budget price. Naturally, having bought it for $12 I saw it elsewhere for $10 and then $8 but not to worry, even $12 is pretty darned cheap for such a good CD.

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf: Liederabend. Another cheapish one, with some Mozart, Schumann, Schubert, Wolf and others. Haven't listened to a single track yet, but if it's half as beautiful as the fabulous cover photo then I shall be very happy.

Natalie Dessay: Air d'opéras français. This is not the same French Arias CD as the one which sent me spinning in adoration of the lovely Natalie, it's an earlier one with a slightly more unusual programme. There's Offenbach, Ravel, Poulenc and others. The Mad Scene from Thomas' Hamlet is on there too, which is interesting as it's also included on the other French Arias. I intend to leave this country with a sizeable collection of Natalie.

Patricia Petibon: French Touch. Finally, finally, a Patricia Petibon CD! The last time I was here, in February, my interest in Patricia was only beginning, and I resisted her French Baroque Arias for some unknown reason. And I've managed to maintain my attachment all these months with only a few mp3s to keep me going; but now I've got French Touch. The bits I've listened to so far are as brilliant as I expected, I'm happy to say. And really, how can you resist a red-headed soprano who poses on a carousel horse for her album cover?

Le nozze di Figaro. Susanna = Anna Moffo. La Contessa = Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. I have only this to say: Sull'aria.

And I'll finish this post here; I think my review of Manon, which we saw on Saturday night, deserves a post all to itself.

Extravagance

All I intended to do when I went into town yesterday was go to the jeweller. But somehow on the way I managed to pick up a Régine Crespin recital DVD, Maria Callas interviews on DVD and a Don Pasquale on CD. I ought, I suppose, to be saving cash for serious CD shopping in Melbourne but I couldn't help myself.

The only one of the three I've played so far is the Régine Crespin DVD. It's part of a very very exciting looking series by EMI called 'Classic Archive'. Disk Den has a whole heap of them. Archive performances, restored and on DVD for $24.95. $24.95! I almost bought more, but decided that, cheap as it was, Maria Callas' 1958 Paris recital deserved to go to an adoring fan rather than me. Anyway, Régine. It's a fabulous DVD. Three Berlioz arias from 1965, a good chunk of a Liederabend from 1964, and then a couple of songs from 1972. This woman is one of the best lieder singers I've seen: quite apart from the gorgeous voice, she's captivating to watch and really makes something of whatever song she's singing. The Ravel song, 'Le Paon', is unbelievable to watch. It's a rather funny little story about a jilted groom which she sings with such sincerity and humour that it's almost like someone just standing there telling the story- you almost forget she's singing. Except that of course you can't forget she's singing because she's singing so fabulously. I continue in my love of this voice, something I'm very glad to report: until tonight all I'd heard from her was a couple of Verdi arias and an Offenbach one so I'm very happy to find that she's just as impressive in lieder. Her 'Lachen and Weinen' is another wonderful one to watch as well as hear. And then of course there's the French stuff where she's an Unparalled Goddess. Fauré has had me melting all over the place in the last week and this is no exception: 'Soir' is gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous. And the Berlioz arias! From what I've read, Berlioz was a bit of a calling card for Mme Crespin, and rightly so. She's stunning. The technically knowledgeable will have ways of describing her voice; I don't particularly. It's this strong powerful instrument and yet there's this sort of lightness and effortlessness to it as well, if that makes sense. It's a big and impressive voice, but it's warm and friendly as well, and pretty in its own way. All of which works wonders when she comes to the Berlioz. 'Le Spectre de la Rose' from 'Les Nuits d'été' is perfect.

And as if Régine weren't enough on her own, the DVD comes with a bonus. A French soprano I've never heard of before called Denise Duval. She sings Poulenc: three arias, filmed in 1959, and two songs, from 1961. All of which mightn't be particularly except for one thing: her accompanist is M. Poulenc himself. I have to say, although Poulenc mightn't be my favourite composer ever, it's pretty neat to see the composer himself playing his own work. Even better, in the (rather hilarious) aria from Les Mamelles de Tirésias he himself takes the part of the husband, half-speaking half-singing his lines and obviously enjoying them. The whole spectacle is rather odd: Thérèse goes on a bit of a feminist rampage and turns into a man- Tiresias. Meanwhile her husband has little more to say than 'Bring me some meat'. However my favourite Denise Duval-Francis Poulenc moment is the songs. According to the notes these seem to have been filmed in Poulenc's studio. The two of them were good friends and it shows. First she sings a rather lovely little song, 'Les Anges musiciens' ("Car c'est toujours Mozart que reprennent sans fin les anges musiciens"). Then there's a rather gorgeous little exchange, as she leans over and pages through his music to find the song she'd like to sing next- 'Quelle aventure!'- tells him, and then, while singing it, acts as his page-turner as well. Very sweet. Not exactly worth $24.95 on its own, but almost.

At some point I'll watch the Maria Callas interviews. The DVD- called The Callas Conversations consists of her conversations with Lord Harewood and also an interview with Bernard Gavoty. Then there are three arias- 'Adieu, notre petite table', 'Ah, non credea mirarti' and 'O mio babbino caro'. As regular readers can no doubt guess, it's not the arias that I bought the DVD for. However, they should be interesting. And the interviews I'm looking forward to: whatever my opinion du jour of her singing, Maria is utterly fascinating when interviewed. And if the Lord Harewood interview is the one I think it is- excerpted in the Maria Callas documentary on earlier this year- then she's also absolutely fabulously gorgeous in it.

The Don Pasquale, by the way, has two distinctions. Firstly, some singularly hideous cover art; secondly, a Norina sung by a certain excellent Slovakian. I downloaded Lucia's 'Quel guardo il cavaliere' quite some time ago and it's one of my favourite things ever; so when I saw the whole opera secondhand for $25.95, I ignored the fact that it only has one soprano, and succumbed. I'm sure it will be fabulous. For the moment, however, I'm rejoicing in Haydn's Armida with its double treat: Cecilia Bartoli and Patricia Petibon. Thankyou Mr Harnoncourt.

Where everybody gets a bargain

The title above, for those who don't know, is the slogan of The Warehouse, a New Zealand/Australian budget department store. They sell everything, cheaply: and much of the time, you get what you pay for. But I'm going to be shocking now and say: I think they're one of the best classical music retailers in the city. Perhaps not if you're looking for someone or something in particular, no. However if you just want to go shopping, they're excellent- the very nature of the business means they're not selective. They sell whatever they've managed to get cheaply, at prices which are no doubt profitable for them but are tiny to people like me, who buy the things. So what's happened is that their classical CD section is huge, and dominated by budget releases. This includes things like the Teldec budget line, which features people like Barbara Bonney, Jennifer Larmore, Edita Gruberova and Angela Gheorghiu- and I have opera highlights CDs of all these people which I got for NZ$2.99 each. At the moment, you can spend $5 and have Renata Tebaldi in La Bohème or Elisabeth Schwarzkopf in Le Nozze di Figaro.

And just lately, they've got a new line. From what I can tell, they're compilations drawn from the immense (120 CDs) 'Great Voices of Opera' collection. They're double CDs, featuring anything from 1 to about 20 singers. I believe the arrangement was alphabetical in the original collection; here it's not. So Adelina Patti and Nellie Melba share a disc, as do Lily Pons and Maria Ivogün. And the list goes on and on. The liner notes are pretty shabby, I'll admit. Brief biographies, somewhat clumsily translated from German- one notable instance of this clumsiness being the transformation of Cilea's opera about a French actress (Adriana Lecouvreur) into one apparently about a German aristocrat- Adriana Lecouvreur von Cilea. That's German for 'Adriana Lecouvreur, by Cilea' but apparently that possibility escaped our translator. Not to worry.

I grabbed six of these double CDs, all of them being of course devoted only to sopranos- there are at least as many featuring tenors and baritones and basses. The recordings go back as far as 1903, and come up until the 1940s, so needless to say the quality is never particularly stunning. Sometimes it's downright terrible. But it's possible, if you try, to tune out all the hissing and crackling and listen to the voice underneath. And even though some of these belong top singers past their primes, rushing (or rushed) to record, whether they could do it well or not, before they were gone for good, all of this promises to be an educational and enjoyable experience. I think I've probably, for $18.90, almost doubled the number of individual singers in my collection, and I'm very much looking forward to discovering what these women I've read about actually sounded like- or at least an approximation of it.

CD du jour is however none of the above. It's also not a CD. Before I went to the Warehouse, I went to Dunedin's excellent secondhand record store Records Records. And among other things, I acquired the loveliest 45rpm EP. Songs by Bellini: Renata Tebaldi. Two songs per side; three of the four are on Cecilia's Italian Songbook. Listening to it this evening, it was one of the nicest and prettiest things I've heard in a long time. Highly recommended: if, that is, you can find it anywhere.

Fun With Vinyl

Not as suspect as you might think. I've been record shopping this weekend. Our local theatre holds an annual 24 hour secondhand book and record (and various other things) sale. Most of the stuff is 50c. So I spent about $35 and came home at 2.30am with piles of books and records. I picked up all manner of things: 2 books about Wallis Simpson, about a million 1960s knitting patterns, some cookbooks from the same era with horrendous food photography, and quite a few opera-type goodies. So let us review.

1. Sheet music.
I learnt the piano for 7 years, during which time I grew progressively worse. I passed Initial Grade, promptly failed Grade One then scraped passes in a few more grades. I think I'm possibly- theoretically- Grade Four. The scary thing is that I'm a grade higher than that in the Trinity Theory exams. I've really no clue how that came to be- I look at the various preparatory notes my teacher made for me at the time and it's all a total mystery. I remember at one point transposing something. I wouldn't have a clue how to now. However this is all incidental. The point is that despite my lack of ability, I still have the piano my parents bought when I started lessons. And in the last couple of years I've taken to playing it again. The lack of any obligation to practise or improve makes it a lot more fun, and so I play a lot, and badly. But I enjoy it. So I took the opportunity to get some cheap sheet music:

-Mendelssohn vocal album. All I know of Mendelssohn Lieder is from a Barbara Bonney CD of same but I like playing vocal music because it's usually straightforward and only requires one hand.
-Elijah. I knew I was going to what might be a sublime Elijah the following night, so although it's a bit of a mess, I grabbed it when I saw it. It seems to have been owned by a choral singer who didn't read music: the bass parts of all the choruses are marked up in red pen with d,r,m,f,t,l,s to correspond with the notes. Luckily he had nice handwriting so it's not too offputting.
-The Merry Widow vocal score. I've played this once before and it was fine although not hugely fun (Le Nozze di Figaro is wonderful fun one-handed) but since all the other vocal scores I saw were Gilbert and Sullivan or otherwise unappealing, I took the best of a bad lot.
and finally
-Everybody's Favorite Grand Opera. Provided your favourite happens to be Carmen, Faust, Lohengrin, Lucia di Lammermoor, Tannhauser or Il Trovatore. Original texts and English 'adaptations' from 1937. Strictly a greatest hits type collection of arias. Should be fun. Seems also to come with the stories of the operas.

2. Source texts. Or something of the sort. In any case, French texts which share titles with operas. A Mithridate, Manon Lescaut and Le Barbier de Séville. I'm don't know that the first one has a direct relation to the Mozart opera, however the other two are sources. Really I'm just posing buying these- the chance of my reading them is slim (except Barbier which I've already read). But it's nice to own them all the same. I also bought something rather odd, which I haven't looked at enough to know exactly what it is. It's called La Vie d'Amour de Beethoven (The Love Life of Beethoven) and comes from a series called 'Leurs Amours' (Their Loves) which includes the lovelives of Wagner, Catherine the Great and Baudelaire among others. I'm hoping it's as innocuous as the pretty cover suggests and not some variety of 1920s French pornography.

3. Records. Whence cometh the title. In fact the operatic pickings were pretty slim this year: piles and piles of Joan Sutherland and '[insert conductor here] conducts Favourite Overtures' and not a whole lot else. But I did find

1. The rather unusual Joan Turner's Workshop. Joan is a musical comedienne who I've seen described as halfway between Anna Russell and Harry Secombe. She can sing and she is often rather funny, although not always. All in all it's a rather fun record. It's not all opera, but it does begin with an operatic sequence: a rather standard monologue punctuated by y of arias with English words to suit. Hard to explain but definitely worth my 50c.

2. Lucia di Lammermoor. Or rather half of it. And I don't plan to listen to it. I bought it because it's got Maria Callas on the cover before she lost all that weight. She's certainly not a small girl but she's still rather impressive.

3. Deanna Durbin Sings. I kid you not. It's only 4 tracks per side and so far I've only heard the first side but it's really OK. None of that godawful (and slightly frightening) overdone coloratura showing off that she and other MGM sopranos were made to do in the movie. On the other hand it's not an album which screams 'missed opportunity as operatic star'. Fun though.

And that's all. And altogether the above mentioned cost me NZ$5.50. I think I did rather well.

CD du jour is Cecilia Bartoli's The Salieri Album. Because I've been wanting to listen to it for about a week and I just can't seem to find where I've put it.

P.S. Patrick, possibly (probably) my only reader might be interested to know that La Vie d'Amour de Beethoven is dedicated to Reynaldo Hahn, of the reportedly fabulous Susan Graham CD.