Elbphilharmonie Gala - Gilbert connects Brahms and Varèse via Bernstein, Ives and Unsuk Chin

Alan Gilbert with the Elbphilharmonie

The Opening Concert of the 2019-2020 season of the Elbphilharmonie, Hamburg, started with typical flourish, Alan Gilbert conducting Brahms's  Symphony no 1 in C minor op 68, Unsuk Chin Frontispiece for Orchestra Bernstein's Symphony no 1 "Jeremiah", Charles Ives The Unanswered Question, and Edgard Varèse's Amériques.  Not a programme for the faint of heart, but executed with great panache! He certainly   seemed relaxed and in his element.  He came to fame conducting the Orchestre National de Lyon and first conducted this Hamburg orchestra, now called the NDR Elbphilharmonie Orchester, 18 years ago. Gilbert has always belonged in Europe, even though he conducts a lot of American repertoire. With the NDR Elbphilharmonie, he can reach audiences who are open minded enough to pay attention.   This programme was also intelligently planned, with enough musical knowledge holding it together, even though it might have seemed sprawling in theory. Yes - plenty to connect Brahms with Varèse !

Johannes Brahms is an emblem of the Elbphilharmonie. Though he went on to fame and fortune elsewhere, he remained at heart a Hamburg homeboy, retaining a no-nonsense North German spirit.  Even in Vienna, that tough Norh Sea/Baltic soul made him individual.  He began working on what was to become his Symphony no 1 when he was twenty-two, completing it twenty-one years later, as he matured. Thus the influence of Beethoven,  Gilbert's approach emphasizing the classical structure and poise.  Horns called forwards, as if reaching out towards distant horizons, before passages evoking hymnal, which develop into fervent anthem, growing richer and more emphatic as the work proceeds. From early Brahms to Unsuk Chin, with whom Gilbert has been associated for many years (he's probably one of her finest interpreters). This was the world premiere of her Frontispiece for Orchestra. It's spiky, bristling with incident. In the second section, Chin's exuberance gave way to stillness, strings stretching languidly, the whole gradually growing  more affirmative - darker, circular figures rolling with forward movement.  Gilbert then conducted  Leonard Bernstein's Symphony no 1 "Jeremiah". This first half of the concert thus formed a cohesive arc - Brahms's first and Bernstein's first, both experimental in their own way, both composers finding themselves, influenced by their backgrounds. Based losely on the Book of Lamentations, the first movement, "Prophecy", suggests foreboding, fulfilled by the second, "Profanation", which is wild and tubulent, unruly figures led by woodwinds, whipped into frenzy by staccato figures and wailing brass.  In the final "Lamentation", the soloist, here Rinat Shaham, intones in Hebrew, her voice rerverberant with vibrato (properly employed).  In the last page, portent is replaced by greater lightness - the voice lighter and purer, textures open ended, with strings shining, supported by winds and brass. A melody (violin and strings) draws the piece to conclusion. 

Chales Ives's The Unanswered Question the first part of the Two Contemplations, is more frequently performed as a stand alone,  as it was here, as "frontispiece" before Varèse's Amériques.  Like so much of Charles Ives’s work, it's extraorinarily experimental, especially considering that it was originally written in 1908 by a composer who rarely got to hear his own music performed.  Though the instrumentation is spare, the work opens out, like a Tardis. There are three separate mini-orchestras, a string ensemble, a woodwind quartet and offstage solo trumpet : a prophecy of Ives's masterpiece, anticipating hs  Symphony no 4.  Beginning and ending in silence is part of the concept - music without boundaries. It's not really a miniature, but leads on to other things. In this case, the pairing with Varèse's Amériques was inspired. This was effectively the composer's opus one, marking his arrival in America, decisively indicating "new worlds".  Here, Gilbert conducted the better-known 1927 version,  rather than the crazier but fun 1921 version Simon Rattle did recently in London.  It's a mistake to think of Varèse's Amériques as little more than noise. There's method in its apparent madness. The cacophonies represent the sounds of modernity and freedom : sounds put tohgether in collage, to create a sense of the teeming energy of a big, modern city (that's where the klaxons come in), Structually the piece operates in large blocks, each section operating on multiple levels, all of them in motion.  Think of skyscrapers, with many storeys, filled with people and machines, below the streets, trains and infrastructure, above, in the skies, moving objects of many kinds. Varèse's Amériques is a seminal work, connecting to futurism, cubism and other innovations in Europe, while breaking completely new ground in terms of music. Its influence cannot be overestimated.  Ives would have been thrilled to have his music side by side with Varèse - both of them prophets unacknowledged in their time.  A bit like Jeremiah !  Listen to the concert HERE.

 

Charles Ives and Carl Nielsen, the Wild Men of Music Prom 72

Charles Ives and Carl Nielsen, two great outsiders,  together in Prom 72 with  Andrew Litton conducting the BBC SO.. the BBC Singers, the Tiffin Boys and Girls Choirs, The Crouch End Choir and a cast of good soloists

Lovely Carl Nielsen Springtime on Funen, so pretty that one might forget that Spring is brief, even on a paradise island. To make a living, Nielsen had to move to the city, though he never lost his love for his country roots. Henning Kraggerud was the soloist in Nielsen's Violin Concerto.

Charles Ives's music, like his personality, seems to defy convention. Many men write part time while pursuing other careers (like Mahler did) and many are justifiably forgotten but Ives stands out because he built on the sounds around him to create brilliant innovation.  There's nothing quite like Ives's Symphony no 4 until, perhaps, Stockhausen, yet it was written from around 1910.

To get a handle on what made Ives tick, read Stuart Feder's My Father's Song : a psychoanalytiuc biography (1992), still the most perceptive insight on what made Ives tick.  Ives's father was a rich kid, who dreamed (unsuccessfully) on breaking out.  He lived out his fantasies playing in bands commemorating the Civil War, the one time when he'd (sort of) made it big on his own. Thus Ives the son got a kind of revenge on the clan for dissing his Dad, by making more money than they ever did, and honoured his father by incorporating the hymns and brass band marches music he grew up with into music that operates like a kaleidoscope that's hard to pin down in conventional terms. Incidentally, one of the hymns Ives used has  a parody text that dates from way back, "We'll have pie in the sky when we die", an irony probably not lost on the composer.  That's why I've chosen this photo of Ives. He's crouching as if he's about to pounce like a tiger. The photographer was expecting a  normal portrait, but Ives's mischief gets the better of him.

In Ives's Fourth Symphony, different sound worlds operate, more or less independently. The music happens when the sounds are combined in the ear of the listener. Although Ives's roots were in semi-rural Danbury, Connecticut,  he commuted to New York City where  skyscrapers inhabited space in the air, and subways added dimensions underground. People came from all over, each with individual lives and agendas, their interaction - if any - creating what we might call modern city life. It's no accident that Elliott Carter admired Ives and was influenced by his ideas.

Because Ives's Fourth predicates on multiple levels and different pulses, performance predicates on precise attention to detail and accurate timing.  The BBCSO, under Andrew Litton, achieved the feat, creating the swirling textures and quirky ins and outs, weaving a whole fabric from the numerous contrary inner cells.  Nowadays we're perhaps used to multi-dimension music, but once it must have seemed hard to achieve.  All the more reason to honour the vision of Leopold Stokowski, who believed in the piece and was instrumental in bringing it to public attention.  When Stokowski first conducted it with the American Symphony Orchestra,in 1954, he needed dozens of hours of rehearsal.  Stokowski's assistant conductor was José Serebrier.  Two main conductors, together conducting an orchestra operating in two sections, with a third, smaller unit, conducted by a third conductor. Not an easy task! When Serebrier recorded Ives's Fourth  in London a few years later, he wasn't allowed the luxury of unlimited rehearsal, or the company of other conductors.  Luckily, he was conducting the London Philharmonic Orchestra and could rely on players who learned fast and well. He divided the orchestra up into different sections, relying on the section leaders to lead their units.  The recording is still a testimony to creative problem-solving in performance practice. .

Below Stokowski and Serebrier conduct Ives Fourth for prime time TV in the early 1960's Imagine new music getting such mass coverage now, when the media has fooled audiences into thinking that anything difficult is wrong. Without pioneers, like Ives, Stokowski and Serebrier  where would be be? ?

Soile Isokoski Wigmore Hall Sallinen Dream Songs

Soile Isokoski and Maria Viitasalo made a welcome return to theWigmore Hall, London. Their recital was a masterclass in what singing really should be about: not simply sound production, but the expression of meaning. 

Isokoski has been singing Hugo Wolf since very early in her career.Her style is well suited to Wolf's songs.  No arch artifice here, no flashy exaggeration. Isokoski's natural, unforced simplicity portrays the young women in these songs as fundamentally nice people, even when they're flirting coquettishly. Auch kleine Dinge could be interpreted with sarcasm, since the lover 's main attrribute is that he's tiny. Isokoski's gentleness breathes sincerity. "Bedenkt, wie klein ist der Olivenfrucht", she declares, then delivers the punchline "und wird ihm ihre Güte doch Gesucht".

Isokoski has performed  Berlioz Nuits d'été (op 7)  many times. This was not quite as incandescent as I've heard her sing it in the past, but as compensation it was an opportunity to concentrate on listening to her technique.  Her foundations are so solid that you can admire her phrasing and carefully controlled modulation. If the lustre of her top was less than perfect, she made up for that with rich, almost mezzo warmth in the lower ranges. A voice might not be perfect at every time, but a really good singer knows when to use her strengths to communicate. No listener should expect recording-type results every time. Far better, I think, to hear someone like Isokoski manage her resources so wisely.

When Isokoski sang Richard Strauss Drei Lieder der Ophelia op 67 1918, she showed why she's such a good Strauss singer. Her Vier letzte Lieder from 2003, conducted by Marek Janowski, is  outstanding, even in a market full of good performances. Since Ophelia is a character from Hamlet, Strauss's settings lend themselves to dramatization. "Wie erkenn' ich mein Treulieb?" asks Isokoski sweetly, so the horror of the answer cuts sharply. "Er ist tot und lange hin".  When she sings about the naked corpse in Sie trugen ihn auf der Bahre bloss, her voice transforms as if she's witnessing a miracle. "Kein Trauen bringt Gewinn". This connects to the Christian prayer in Karl Simrock's German translation.

Isokoski also makes a speciality of the songs of Charles Ives. Many Americans in Ives's time were recent migrants, so Isokoski's heavily accented English works rather well, creating an image of America as a vibrant melting pot.  In On the Counter (1920) Ives satirizes "the same old sentimental sound" of popular songs by writing rolling circular figures for the piano. Isokoski sings the words "I love you"in such a humourous way that you can hear why Ives couldn't stand trite tunes. Not all divas can let their hair down emotionally but Isokoski hums and whistles with such gusto that she evokes the merry crowd in the opera house in Memories A) Very pleasant . This isn't the Met, full of reverence, but an "opera house" in the old fashioned sense of the word, where people went to have fun and didn't care what anyone else thought.

Aulis Sallinen's Nelja laulua unesta (Four Dream Songs) (1972) are connected to his opera Ratsumies (The Horseman). There are probably more operas written in Finland than anywhere else, and Sallinen is a major composer. Soile Isokoski has made them a speciality, taking them into her repertoire at a very early stage in her career. .Anyone who has heard her sing Sibelius Luonnotar will understand why, for Sallinen's songs are powerful, unleashing supernatural, superhuman forces.

The cycle begins with a chilling piano introduction, suggesting snowfall and driving winds. A Man Made of Sleep appears, but what does he signify? The songs require extreme control of range." Hän ei nuku nukuttamalla", sings Isokoski, leaping suddenly up the scale from low, rumbling incantation.  In Finnish each vowel is pronounced clearly, and there are many vowels in each word, often with umlauts. The language itself shapes this music, and Sallinen repeats phrases to maximize the impact. "Nukkuu unta näkemättä, ei sitä uni herätä" (he is sleeping without dreaming, no dreaming will awake him). The pace cannot be rushed, syllables must resonate.

The third song, On kolme unta susäkkäin (Three dreams each within each) is perhaps the most disturbing and unsettling piece in the group. The piano tolls a staccato sequence, while the voice intones mysteriously. A woman is dreaming and within her womb, an unborn child is dreaming, too.  The mood is desolate, and Isokoski sings as if she's chanting a rune. "Minun täytyy syntyä ja koul" (I must be born and must die). Yet the line rises sharply upward, Isokoski's voice reaching crescendi before the sudden mood change in the last phrase. From thence, it's as if something powerful has been released. The final song is Ei mikään virta, (There is no stream that journeys so swiftly as life itself).  The final song hurtles forward. Words are repeated urgently,turbulently, Isokoski's voice crisp and agile.  "Kulkeva, kulkeva" (moving, moving) was enunciated high and clear despite the choppy pace. A tour de force, greatly appreciated.

Berliner Philharmoniker goes American Charles Ives 4

Gershwin, Antheil, Charles Ives and Bernstein - an all-American programme, but with a twist. Often programmes like this make me cringe because they're done with self-conscious folksiness. But Ingo Metzmacher conducts the Berliner Philharmoniker with wry, distinctive style. Each piece stands on its own merits; no special pleading needed. Even Bernstein's Symphonic Dances from West Side Story sounds fresh, the tunes integrated into the overall musical logic. That's saying something!

If Bernstein is the over-exposed "face" of American music, George Gershwin and George Antheil don't get the respect they deserve. Gershwin's 1932 Cuban Overture isn't his greatest work but it's an attempt to use Cuban rhythms in "mainstream" music. What fun it is to see the august players of the Berliner Philharmoniker play bongos, maracas and rhythm sticks! Cuban music aficionados will probably cringe, but the point is made. Even with Gershwin, Cuban doesn't go gringo.

George Antheil's Jazz Symphony (1955 version) is musically a better proposition, and the Berliners give a vigorous account. I prefer the spikier 1925 version, (excellent recording by Ensemble Modern) but Antheil's later, larger orchestration reflects the period in which it was revived. It's apposite, however, in the context of the Bernstein suite. Even at the end of his life, after a long career in Hollywood, Antheil still understood what jazz is. The Berliners did it with style - wildly bluesy trumpet, louche piano, the orchestra deliciously decadent and witty.

Charles Ives's Symphony no 4 was by far the best part of the programme. Metzmacher appeared to be the only conductor, though a second conductor was present.  But much of the leadership came from Pierre-Laurent Aimard who has played the symphony many times. His Ives is idomatic in the sense that he's played all of Ives's music for piano, but his structural clarity doesn't go down well with those who want their Ives "traditional". Too bad, I think. Ives was writing serious music, not retro. A supremely professional exponent like Aimard would have been beyond Ives's wildest dreams.

The beauty of Ives's work, for me, is the way he blends popular culture into sophisticated music. The hymns, songs and marches  shouldn't over-dominate for they are snatches of memory in a much more complex musical conception. Aimard took control from the first bars of the Maestoso, dominant dark chords making a firm statement A single cello responds, and then the choir, singing brief snatches of the hymns whose origins Ives knew so well. Metzmacher conducted so a sense of contemplative silence prevailed, much more in keeping with the mood of the songs than the uncharacteristically muted diction of the Ernst Senff Choir.

The Allegretto is a strange beast, with multiple cross-currents. It's notoriously difficult to conduct, but Metzmacher understands 20th century music so well that he can show how Ives was way ahead of his time. Ives breaks the orchestra into components, playing at different tempi: individual cells operating within a larger mechanism. Aimard leads. playing faster and faster almost to the point that the strings can't keep up. This tension underlines the strange, mechanical repeats in the music. The filming is musically sensitive: two violinists are shown bowing in a strange mechanistic ritual.  Yet the overall impact is of extreme energy, even a sense of madcap zany rebellion in the wayward rhythms. One thinks of New York, where Ives worked, its skyscrapers (even in 1918) and busy infrastructure. Years before Fritz Lang's Metropolis, Ives is creating futurist concepts in music. 

Th offstage ensembles intensify this idea of multiple spheres of activity. A solo violin is heard from above the stage, adding ethereal unworldliness. The second piano plays a relatively easy melody. Their music feels symbolic, like a commentary on the main piano and orchestra below. Then all hell breaks loose. What sounds like a conventional miltary match  develops at a wacky, wayward pace. Most definitely not a march to march to, which may also be part of the underlying meaning.

Metzmacher breaks it off sharply, strengthening the contrast with the Fugue and its mixture of hymn melodies and memories. Is Ives looking back on an idealized past? Ives's father fought in the Civil War and played the games required of patriotic veterans, but from what we know of his life, he wasn't happy or fulfilled. Ives strongly identified wth his father, the black sheep of the family.  Can these references to nostalgia be as simple as they seem? The trombone plays a reference to "Taps", played at the close of day, but also to mark the death of soldiers.

Percussion mark the start of the Finale, suggesting a procession or march. Metzmacher and the Berliners take this so quietly that the mood seems ominous, even though the strings soar in more conventional unison. Aimard reinforces the darkness, firm, assertive playing and absolute precision. Again, Ives contrasts mass with individual. A single violin plays  a slow, gracious figure which contradicts the gloom. Mysterious swaying sounds in the main orchestra, gradually building to a strange climax and retreats. Out of this almost nothingness Aimard plays passages so beautiful that they seem magical. The hazy diction of the choir worked musically, for me, because it put greater emphasis on piano and orchestra than on the literal meaning of the words. That, perhaps, is Metzmacher's achievement. Ives's Fourth Symphony is much greater than the sum of its parts. Listen to this concert on the Berliner-Philharmoniker website.

The photo shows Charles Ives in 1945 (Eugene Smith, courtesy charlesives.org) It's famous because it shows the quirkier side of Ives. Look at that crouch - is he about to spring at the photographer and catch us all unaware? 

Blacks, Jews and Nazis - Tippett A Child of our Time Prom 25

Intelligence and sensitivity went into creatiung the programme for David Robertson's  BBC Prom 25. Because the 2012 BBC Proms are focussing on big choral masses and oratorios, and youth ensembles,  Michael Tippett's A Child of Our Time would have had to be included. But placing it in the context of this brilliantly thoughtful programme elevated it way beyond "just" music, and made this Prom the most intellectually profound of the whole season (and that includes the Barenboim Beethoven which was moving but not deep).

Robertson started with Charles Ives The Unanswerreed Question. It's highly conceptual. Three sepaate units operate at different tempi. They don't connect, so what we hear comes from how we ourselves combine the layers. Strings intone a quiet, almost hypnotic line. Against this emerges a solo trumpet repeatedly  calling  out into aural space. Is this the questioner asking "serious things" as the composer suggested? A woodwind quartet chatters angular clutter, but the trumpet keeps searching, seeking and receives no answer. It's astonishing that this piece was written in 1906, for it employs concepts of multiple disaparate layers and the acoustic properties of the performance space. In six minutes, Charles Ives is metaphorically creating the world where there's data coming at us from all sides and levels.  It's  up to us to process it, if we can.

Everyone knows Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings op 11, in many different contexts, but at this Prom, Robertson had it grow fluidly out of Ives, as if the two were companions, each amplifying the other's meaning. On this occasion, I was struck by the hymn-like low rumble of the strings, thinking oddly enough of Morton Feldman's Rothko Chapel as the strings floated upwards, higher and higher.A threnody for troubled times.

Solo trumpet (Håkan Hardenberger) and reduced orchestra again for Bernd Alois Zimmerman's Nobody Knows the Trouble I've seen. It was written in 1954. Zimmermann, who didn't grow up with Black music, was responding to the Holocaust and what it meant for Germany and for humanity as a whole. It's a mistake to make too much of the jazz and gospel aspects of this piece, because Zimmermann is using the kind of Black music the Nazis hated in a spiritual way, almost reminiscent of Bach. Robertson wisely underplayed the "bluesy" aspects, and the processioinal towards the end was much more a procession for lost souls than New Orleans funeral. It's not meant to "swing". .Zimmermann killed himself in 1970, never finding his "unanswered questions".(lots on him on this site)

Michael Tippett's A Child of Our Time can be heard in many different contexts, but Roberston's Prom 25 highlighted its true significance. It's more than "English Oratorio" even though Tippett clearly references Handel and Bach. The piece was inspired by the man who assassinated a German diplomat in Paris. Tippett describes the traumas that drove the refugee to revenge. "Among them was a young boiy of 8 who was kept in hiding" intones the Narrator (Jubilant Sykes, glorious name). Tippett develops the man's relationship with his mother. Sally Matthews sang ringing tops and Paul Groves was plausible as the son. But it'ss no mystery that oppressed people want to strike back. Ultimately, Kristallnacht and the Holocaust would have happened anyway, regardless of any one person's actions. Far more interesting is what one act of violence can mean against a far greater maelstorm of madness, but Tippett doesn't go there. Sarah Connolly lifts the solo alto part so it satisfies, even if Tippett doesn't ask the questions no-one can answer.

Perhaps Tippett is using him as a symbol of the oppressed of all times and places. Hence the framework of Black spirituals framing the narrative, distancing it from Europe. But that replicates the way Black culture has been exploited and "colonized".  Two wrongs don't make a right. Ideologically I'm not comfortable with that, so I was glad that Robertson didn't overemphasize this aspect of the piece, but let the very British choirs do their natural thing. Robertson is best when he's conducting music he cares about, and in this Prom his disciplned rigour brought out the best in the BBC SO.

There'll be a more detailed review of Tippett by Claire Seymour, the Benjamin Britten specialist, in Opera Today.

Eclectic Aldeburgh Music Festival 2012

The British don't appreciate Aldeburgh. Indeed, many don't appreciate Benjamin Britten's unique place in British music history. Just as the town faces the North Sea, Britten's horizons were European. The Aldeburgh Festival brought Shostakovich to the west, and the Hesse connection brought German interest. To truly understand Britten's artistic nature, appreciate Aldeburgh for what it is. Britten's vision was English, but eclectic, not insular.

What a pity he missed meeting Béla Bartók, who came to Aldeburgh in 1923, in a concert organized by a teacher in a girls' school. In those days, it wasn't unusual for artists to circulate outside big cities. When I was transcribing Elizabeth Schumann's papers she was organizing pianists and concerts in tiny, out of the way places in England to supplement on her visits to England.  Béla Bartók's visit to Aldeburgh is explored in a talk on 22/6. His music features throughout the festival including three important recitals by the Keller Quartet, who specialize in modern Hungarian composers, and an unmissable recital with Dezső Ránki on 15/6. He's playing late Liszt, Bartók, Hadyn and a premiere by Barnabas Dukay.

Three recitals by Miklós Perényi, a recital and a masterclass with Menachem Pressler, two concerts by Peter Serkin, one with Gabriela Montero and Alfred Brendel, talking about Liszt and illustrating with piano. And of course Pierre-Laurent Aimard himself, on his own and with Matthias Goerne. The Arditti Quartet and Helmut Lachermann, whose music also comes under the spotlight. Lachenmann will be there himself and Ensemble Modern, the great European ensemble who rarely grace our shores. Seriously important figures, attracted to a small seaside town by Aimard and Aldeburgh's reputation.

Oliver Knussen's Aldeburgh connections are impeccable, too. He's a former director of the Festival and still a major presence, and lives up the road! Knussen's Where the Wild Things Are and Higgelty Piggelty Pop! will be this year's opera offerings. They were inspired by the tales of Maurice Sendak, so reflect Knussen's quirky imagination. He read the stories to his daughter, "the Muse of Higgelty Pigglety Pop!". The operas are coming to the Barbican later in the year, semi straged by Netia Jones. Excellent cast, including Claire Booth, Susan Bickley, Rebecca Bottone and others. These are more than "children's operas" (a concept Britten would have loved)  and will remind us how important Knussen has been for music in this country.

Knussen's British but spent his formative years in the US. So it's significant that he's included in his keynote concert Charles Ives' Washington's Birthday as well as a new work of his own.  A rare chance to hear Charles Ives' uncompleted Universe Symphony on 24/6. This is its European premiere, and will be conducted by James Sinclair, Ives scholar, "using every corner of Snape Maltings its airy acoustics and unique idyllic natural surrounds as a single vast performance space".  Interesting to compare the ideas with John Cage Musicircus, the day before, this time with Exaudi.  Every Cage musicircus is different - there's one on March 3 at the ENO, by Cage's intimates.

Perhaps the last thing Britten wanted was to turn Aldeburgh into a theme park for his music, attracting day trippers and English Defence Leaguers after "The Britten/Britain Experience". He'd be rolling in his grave to think of himself and the ethos he loved rebranded in that way. Instead, Aldeburgh honours Britten by reecognizing what he really stood for, which is artitsic integrity and creative growth. Aldeburgh is a Festival for and by musicians.

Real Britten fans know his music well enough to cope with things like Before Life and After, Netia Jones's dramatizations of Britten, Finzi and Tippett with James Gilchrist as soloist. When this was on at Kings Place in 2010, it was excellent, and should be even better at Aldeburgh.  Britten's music doesn't need to overwhelm the Festival, for his ideas pervade the whole Festival, encompassing music, walks, community events, visual arts, early and modern music, film and achitecture. Booking starts this week. Complete brochure here.
Please look at the many things I've written about Aldeburgh in past years, and about the various composers featured. Also tips on food and shopping!

photo: William M Connolley

Lawrence Zazzo's Adventure in American song

Lawrence Zazzo, the American countertenor, gave a recital last week at the Wigmore Hall with Simon Lepper. Amazing programme, which overturns the image countertenors have in this country. That in itself should have made the concert a big draw. Modern composers love the countertenor voice because it extends the palette and opens up new possibilities. This recital was "news" that should have attracted more attention. Regrettably, I couldn't get there but Claire Seymour has written about it in depth in Opera Today. Follow the link, it's detailed and analytical.
 
Zazzo's established his baroque credentials so well he has nothing to prove. Remember his Radamisto at ENO So this programme showed courage. Samuel Barber's Hermit Songs, for example, are so closely identified with Leontyne Price that they're not performed nearly as frequently as they should be. Her interpretation, though loved by Barber and the audiences of the time, is classic, but it doesn't necessarily explore all the levels in the cycle. Perhaps a male voice with wit and asperity might find new things in it? I wish I'd heard Zazzo!

Ned Rorem loves the countertenor voice and has written lots for it. There are whole CD collections of Rorem countertenor songs. Zazzo sang Rorem's War Scenes to poems about the US Civil War by Walt Whitman. Not quite Alfred Deller territory, though he could have done them had his audiences been more used to the genre. Charles Ives songs are more problematic, since they were conceived for more conventional performance. On the other hand, Ives himself was hardly conventional even if he seemed so on the surface. I hope Zazzo persists with this kind of repertoire because it's much too interesting to leave fallow.