Vladimir Jurowski Prom : Glazunov, and Russian goodies

Vladimir Jurowski - photo : Roman Gontcharov, 2017, courtesy IMG Artists

Vladimir Jurowski conducted the London Philharmonic Orchestra in Rimsky Korsakov, Rachmaninov, Lyadov and Glazunov.  Prom 41 worked fine on purely musical terms - satisfying repertoire, by a conductor who excels in this music, though he'd typically spice up the programme with somthing more unusual for his regular Royal Festival  Hall audiences, who are more discerning than at the ROyal Albert Hall. When he moves on, he'll be greatly missed. So more's the pity that the BBC Proms team script prioritized the "Henry Wood novelties" marketing gimmick over and above the music and conductor. Henry Wood was a musician not a "brand". He would not have been amused that his name has been used in vain !

He would have beamed, though, at the performance - especially the Glazunov, vividly executed.  Again, the stupidity of the BBC Proms team's obsession with fake firsts and non-musical tickboxes. Don't they keep up withn the world outside the Proms ? Glazunov, who died in 1936, was big decades ago, and the more recent revival's been around a good 25 years. Lots of recordings to choose from, too, so there's never really been a drought.  Jurowski conducted Glazunov's Symphony no 5 in b flat minor,  op 55 (1895), popular and sccessible because it fits the image of  Russian music as music for the stage and ballet. The subtitle "heroic" expresses it aptly - plenty of nationalist colour, not a lot of introspection. Jurowski, whose forte is sensitive reflection, emphasized the structural logic behind the drama. A darkly brooding first movement, setting the scene perhaps for the "Russian soul" of public imagination.  Wisely, Jurowski focussed on the panorama,  long,expansive lines, unfolding like endless horizons. The quality of the LPO playing highlighted details - excellent smaller-unit sections clearly defined. This sharp focus gave the scherzo character - fast passages spiking up the cheerful main theme. The andante was thus framed in context - a calm walking pace threatened by dark, ominous chords.  This gave context to the final moveemnt, an allegro, but with powerful, assertive purpose - it's not marked "maestoso" for nothing, it's the culmination of a journey through the earlier movements.  Jurowski conducted the animato conclusdion with vigour - the top lines (winds, strings) flying triumphantly over darker undertones (brass, lower strings).  Glazunov's Symphony no 5 works perfectly well on its own terms. There's no need to keep referring to its perceived resemblance to other composers. That's lazy thinking - all composers are influenced by others. The skill lies in appreciating what a composer does on his own terms.

Jurowski has conducted Rimsky-Korsakov, Lyadov and Rachmaninov numerous times, so this Prom was enjoyable, although only a fraction of what he can do given more programming choice.  A delightful Rimsky-Korsakov Mlada Suite, its ballet origins giving it energy and colour.  I  liked the way Jurowski and the LPO created the physicality in the ostinato passages - dancers' feet landing on the ground after cheerful dancing. Alexander Ghindin was the soloist in Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 1 in F sharp minor (original version, 1891). Three pieces from Anatoly Lyadov, whom Jurowski has done a lot of in the past, Baba-Yaga, Kikimora and From the Apocalypse. A nice safe programme redeemed by excellent performance. Musicians winning out, despite the suits of BBC formula. .

Gergiev Marathon : Russians and Mahler, Elbphilharmonie

Where does Valery Gergiev get his energy ?  Two livestreams back to back from the Elbphilharmonie, both programmes hefty. Mahler Symphony no 4 together with Das Lied von der Erde - a combination most conductors wouldn't dare essay on the same night, let alone after the previous night's all-Russian concert - Stravinsky, Rimsky-Korsakov and Shostakovich Symphony no 4.  The players of the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra must be exhausted.  Yet Gergiev looks calm and refreshed.

He has done Stravinsky's Funeral Song, (Chante funèbre) op 5, so often that it's almost his trademark. Please read my piece Lost No More about his premiere of the piece in St Petersburg in 2016 with the Mariinsky Orchestra. As he did then, he paired it with Rimsky-Korsakov's suite from The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevroniya.  This combination is important, given the connection between Rimsky-Korsakov and the young Stravinsky. Towards the end of Funeral Song, (Chante funèbre)  we might detect the last, long chords of The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh.  While Stravinsky spoke fondly of the Funeral Song, it's a transitional work rather  than a stand alone major work, so it does need to be programmed as intelligently as Gergiev does.  The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh is a much more sophisticated piece, its colours at once delicate and luscious. It's a Gergiev favourite, too, and  this performance was very good indeed.  This time, though, his main focus was Shostakovich Symphony no 4 in C minor op 43. Again, this is something Gergiev could conduct in his sleep if he wished but here he shaped it with the clarity it needs. Some conductors get away with clumsiness in Shostakovich because some audiences like noise and butchness.  But Gergiev delineated the more elusive passages, bringing out the finesse that lurks behind the surface brutalism.  If there is hidden meaning in this symphony, those wayward wind and horn passages might represent free spirits uncowed by the larger forces around them.

The real surprise, for me anyway, was the quality of Gergiev's Mahler on this occasion. To say he's hit or miss with Mahler is an understatement.  One of the most horrible Mahler 4's I've heard was Gergiev, but here he was good, alert to the vulnerability that is  so much part of this symphony, which sometimes makes it feeel threatening to some.  In the first movement, he captured the jaunty sleigh ride well, so it felt purposeful rather than random jollies.  Life is a sleigh ride, full of thrills, but eventually we all die, which is why it connects to the last movement.  Great restraint in the other movements too : the moment should not end too soon.  The soloist, Genia Kühmeier, stood behind the orchestra. The acoustic of the Elbphilharmonie seems to favour singers by spreading sound around them rather than blasting from behind. She was sensual rather than otherworldly but that's perfectly appropriate, given the joy the child takes in earthly pleasures.

Following Mahler 4 with Das Lied von der Erde takes guts, maybe foolhardy guts,  but Gergiev and the Müncheners pulled it off.  Skill there, plus stamina.  Some very good moments, especially the winds, with a decidedly "oriental" touch at times.  Andreas Schager sang the tenor part, Tanja Ariane Baumgartner the alto.  Schager's a very good Wagnerian, a born "stage animal" who inhabited the part psychologically, as good opera singers do.  If his voice sounded stressed at times, it didn't matter. The protagonist is supposed to be stressed, so terrified of death that he drinks himself into oblivion.  One of the best Das Lied von der Erde tenors ever was Peter Schreier whose edgy earnestness conveyed the full horror of his predicament.  Good balance between Schager and Baumgartner, her serenity an answer to his fears. 

Jurowski : Stravinsky Firebird, Rimsky-Korsakov

Young Stravinsky, around the time he met Rimsky-Korsakov in 1902

Vladimir Jurowski's Stravinsky Journey with the London Philharmonic Orchestras took flight with The Firebird at the Royal Festival Hall. A spectacular performance, soaring to heights of glory. The Firebird is an immortal with magical powers, who defies the bounds of nature.  Jurowski inspires an explosion so dazzling that it was almost blinding.  Colours shone in myriad shades, sparkling like jewels lit with fire from within.  But beneath the splendour lies an undercurrent of sadness. The Prince, like Kashkey, cannot remain unchanged.  That blaze of resplendent gorgeousness comes at a price. Jurowski's Firebird is much more than a flying jewel box. Bold, bright and savage, it is informed by an awareness that happiness must be savoured to the full while it lasts   Inevitably, life ends. Flames turn to embers and ash.  Folk legends often have a core of moral truth: they are much more than pretty fairy tales.  One of Jurowski's great strengths is that he is a man who thinks. All good conductors think musically, but Jurowski is a philosopher of sorts, too, and spiritual.  He doesn't often conduct dancers, so his Stravinsky isn't as dynamically earthy and physical as, say, Gergiev's, but it has a  psychological integrity, which is just as valid, and just as rewarding.
There's also much more to conducting than waving a baton (or waving your arms). Gpood conductors make connections, enriching their programmes  to enhance the music they choose.  The Firebird is an outstanding piece but it didn't spring out of nowhere.  Jurowski conducted Stravinsky's "lost" Funeral Song (Chante funèbre) op 5  at the 2017 Proms when he had to programme it with  Shostakovich Symphony no 11, Britten's Russian Funeral and  Prokofiev's Violin Concerto no 1 in D to fit in with the BBC's theme-based strategy (read more here), so Stravinsky got short shrift. This time,  at the Royal Festival Hall, Jurowski was able to present the piece in proper context.  Musically, much more intelligent, and played with more committment, too.   When Gergiev conducted the modern world premiere at St Petersburg, he programmed it with Rimsky-Korsakov The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevroniya (1907) and Stravinsky's The Firebird, enshrining bthe connections.  Please read my piece about that premiere : Lost no more : Stravinsky' s Funeral Song.  This time round, Jurowski made the same - inescapable - connection, while adding more early Stravinsky Scherzo fantastique and Rimsky-Korsakov's Piano Concerto in C sharp minor, with Alexander Ghindin.

Stravinsky's  Scherzo fantastique op 3 is a very early work, written in 1908 before the death of Rimsky-Korsakov in June that year, for whose funeral Stravinsky was to write the Funeral Song.  A neat and erudite connection, but also musically astute, since in the Scherzo fantastique, we can hear ideas in germination which will come to fruit in The Firebird. Stravinsky was already Stravinsky, though he owed his mentor so much.  Rimsky-Korsakov's early Piano Concerto in C sharp minor op 30 (1882) was inspired by and dedicated to Franz Liszt, and first performed with the support of Mily Balakirev. The piece honours both masters, incorporating a folk song theme from Balakirev and adapting it in a Lisztian manner, with "Polish" flourishes.  Ghindin seemed to relish the showcase passages, notes flying freely and vividly. Like a Firebird !. 
 

Lost no more : Stravinsky Rimsky-Korsakov Gergiev Mariinsky

Igor Stravinsky's lost Funeral Song, (Chante funèbre) op 5 conducted by Valery Gergiev at the Mariinsky in St Petersburg  This extraordinary performance was infinitely more than an ordinary concert, even for a world premiere of an unknown work. It was a sanctification of the city of St Petersburg itself and its role in shaping modern music.  Hence the speeches on the broadcast, and the sincere emotion shown on the faces of the musicians of the Mariinsky Orchestra as they listened. A male wind player's lower lip wobbled.  A harpist leaned her head on her instrument, to hide genuine tears. We don't often see hard-boiled professionals like that, but the sense of occasion must have been overwhelming.

Stravinsky's Funeral Song was written when Stravinsky heard the news of the death of Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov in June 1908. Rimsky-Korsakov was Stravinsky's teacher, mentor and close friend: the sorrow Stravinsky must have felt was channelled into the piece, completed in a very short period, and premiered in January 1909. Akthough Stravinsky remebered it fondly, the manuscript was thought lost, until, by chance, renovations to the Mariiinsky's old building in 2014 revealed a cache of uncatalogued papers which included 83 orchestral parts used in the first (and only) performance.  Read Stephen Walsh's account here and listen to Natalya Braginskaya before the broadcast). The parts had lain, unnoticed through the Revolution, after which the city was renamed Leningrad, and subject to one of the most brutal sieges in modern history. Stravinsky's Funeral Song survived the Tsars, the Nazis and the collapse of Communism: Stravinsky's modernism wasn't popular with Stalin. By honouring Stravinsky and Rimsky-Korsakov together in this way, Gergiev, the Mariinsky and the city of St Petersburg are making a powerful statement

Stravinsky's Funeral Song (Chante funèbre) begins with ominous dark chords. It's a slow march, the gloom lit with rustling strings and figures that seem to leap sharply upwards in protest against the gloom.  A solo French horn outlines a melody. The full orchestra joins in, and the music rises almost to crescendo before falling back. Prostrate, but not defeated. The strings surge and a group of horns take up momentum.  A hushed, mysterious near silence, bassoons, double basses, and full flow is restored.  The timpani rumble, and strange lingering chords repeat. Intense anguish, then a very short return to peace, of a kind, with the harps and low winds murmuring.

Though Stravinsky's Funeral Song is short, it's very rich.  Stravinsky's clearly thinking of Rimsky-Korsakov's great orchestral dramas. Thoughtfully, Gergiev preceded it with the Suite from Rimsky-Korsakov's The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevroniya , which premiered in the Mariinsky in February 1907, with the same conductor who did the Funeral Song two years later . The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevroniya is an astonishing piece, illuminated with intense colours and vivid imagery.  It describes an idealized city in Old Russia, which, when attacked by the Tatars, is saved by a mystery fog which makes it invisible, though its bells, prancing horses and pipes can be heard,  tantalizingly, in the distance above the lakes and forests.  Do we hear Kitezh in the last, lingering chords of the Funeral Song? The piece is something of a Gergiev trademark, for he's championed it passionately for years. It was a sensational hit when he conducted it in London in 1994. You need the full work for maximum impact, but in this concert, the Suite worked fine, and the performance was intensely moving.

Think on the swirling, lustrous motifs that depict the magic fog that conceals the Invisible City.  then think of Stravinsky's The Firebird, which premiered in Paris in June 1910.  In The Firebird, Stravinsky quotes Rimsky-Korsakov's Kashchey the Immortal (1902) which premiered in St Petersburg in 1905.  Indeed The Firebird incorporates two separate legends into one ballet with great effect.  In Rimsky-Korsakov's Kashchey an ugly monster has a daughter who holds the secret to his death. She’s just as cold as he is but she falls in love. Kashchey’s music is shrilly angular, evoking his harsh personality as well as the traditional way he’s portrayed, as a skeleton, the symbol of death who cannot actually die. The Storm Knight, on whom the plot pivots, is defined by the wild ostinato. The most inventive music, though, surrounds Kashchey's daughter Kashcheyvna. When she sings, there are echoes of Kundry. Harps and woodwinds seem to caress her voice, so when her iciness melts, we sympathize.

Stravinsky's Firebird inhabits an altogether different plane. While Rimsky-Korsakov’s music embellishes the vocal line, Stravinsky’s floats free. It “is” the drama. Music for dance has to respect certain restraints, so it’s necessarily quite episodic, but Stravinsky integrates the 21 segments so seamlessly that the piece has lived on, immortal. The Firebird is a magical figure which materializes out of the air, leading the Prince to Kashchey’s secret garden. Unlike the ogre, the Prince is kind and sets the bird free. He’s rewarded with a magic feather. This time the Princess and other captives are liberated by altruistic love. It’s purer and more esoteric, and Stravinsky’s music is altogether more abstract, imaginative and inventive. Yet again, the "characters" are defined by music.  The solo part for horn, for example, plays a role in the music like that of a solo dancer. Textures around it need to be clean as they were here, so its beauty is revealed with poignant dignity. 

Although Gergiev has conducted The Firebird so often  he could almost do it on autopilot, on this occasion his focus was so intense that the performance was extraordinary. When Gergiev is this good, he's better than anyone else.  Absolute finesse, the Mariinsky playing barely above the point of audibility, but with magical lustre, then exploding into the wild, demonic passages with the energy and precision of a corps de ballet. Mournful bassoons, exotic clarinets, celli and basses plucked  pizzicato like a choir singing vocalise.  Once again, we're in a magical dimension like the fog that lifted Kitezh beyond mortal ken.  The "Firebird" theme returned, richer and deeper than before, but how does the piece end ?  With strong, emphatic chords repeated again and again. Like in  the Funeral Song, like The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh.  Presenting the three pieces together almost seamlessly, Gergiev revealed their connections, and the inner artistic logic that linked the two composers together.   An outstanding experience. Enjoy and marvel : the concert is available on demand for approx 88 days on medici tv.   Please see my numerous other pieces on Stravinsky by following  the link "Stravinsky" below and on the right.

The Tsar's Bride - Barenboim, Milan broadcast

What have things come to, when Ivan The Terrible should now be known as "one of the same characters that inspired Eisenstein", according to the blurb on BBC Radio 3. Ivan the Terrible, supposedly a demonic despot who cast a shadow over all Tsars to come, and the father of the Russian Empire, reduced to a bit part in history?  Eisenstein's 1942 film is a classic, about which I've written  before, but there's a whole lot more to Ivan than the movies. Maybe modern "research" these days depends on what's on page 1 of Google, and look no deeper. 

No trivializing when it comes to Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tsar's Bride, where the Tsar's forceful persona dominates all around him. No trivializing, either, in Barenboim's account for Teatro alla Scala, recorded late last year.  Glorious playing, the riches in the orchestration suggesting the splendour of the Tsar's court . Yet poison seeps from below the surface. Wealth and power mean nothing, when you're paranoid, surrounded by enemies, real or imagined.  Listen HERE to the full broadcast. Fabulous, orchestral playing matched by fabulous singing too. This is what The Tsar's Bride should sound like. The Royal Opera House production a few years ago got attacked because it was  set in the modern world of the new oligarchy. Why not? since human nature doesn't change.  Is it so hard to imagine what it must be like around Vladimir Putin? 

The problem with the ROH production was that it was unidiomatically conducted (Mark Elder), polite watercolour, rather than pulsating blood. If Barenboim and his cast had done that production, the opera would not have been met with the incomprehension it received in London.   Incidentally, there's a film based on Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tsar's Bride. The filming is stunning, though musically it's pretty average.

Cunning Vixen and Scheherazade, Sisters: Hrůša BBCSO Barbican

Many performers get attention because their youth excites some sections of the press. But Jakub Hrůša has solid experience without attracting the media circus. He's Music Director of the Prague  Philharmonia and has conducted all over the world. He's recorded extensively for Supraphon. He's Music Director of Glyndebourne Touring Opera, which is a significant force on its own. I first heard Hrůša conduct Mozart Don Giovanni at the Glyndebourne Festival in 2010 and was even more impressed by his Britten Turn of the Screw in 2011   No chance would I miss hearing him conduct the BBC Symphony Orchestra at the Barbican, London.

Surprisingly, publicity for this concert was very low profile, especially given that Hrůša, a Czech music specialist,  was conducting the British premiere of František Jílek's arrangement of the suite of Leoš Janáček's The Cunning Little Vixen. Jílek (1913-93) was one of the important Czech conductors of his time, closely associated with Brno, Janáček's home turf. Jílek and Charles Mackerras were men of the same generation, but Mackerras dominated Janáček performance in the west, and Jílek remained behind the Iron Curtain. Although Talich's orchestral suite on The Cunning Little Vixen is better known, and in the Mackerras revision, Jílek's suite deserves more attention.

Jílek based his suite on the whole opera, whereas  Talich concentrated on the first act. Jílek used Janáček's original orchestrations and concentrated on the non-vocal aspects of the work. Jílek chose carefully, including passages from the scene where the Vixen comes to sexual maturity. If The Cunning Little Vixen was informed by Janáček's relationsips with women, this passage is crucial to meaning. Please read my article Janáček's Dangerous Women and many other articles I've written about this opera, (use labels below). Jílek also emphasizes the transformation music in the finale, where the Forester dies, and is reunited in spirit with the Vixen. This section is in many ways, the whole point of the opera, for it links themes of rebirth, regeneration and the cycle of Nature. The Cunning Little Vixen marks the beginning of the most fertile phase of Janáček's creative career, so Jílek's Suite works as a study of the opera and of the composer himself.

Like most Czech musicians, Jakub Hrůša probably imbibed Janáček from birth, but he's able to assert an individual stamp on his performance. He thrusts the music forward, yet marks the breaks with sharp definition.  This creates a combination of attack and tension, an angular energy that expresses the spirit of the Vixen, an animal who lives by her wits, surrounded by danger.  Conductor body language can often be "read": Hrůša points both hands downwards, fingers angled like a toreador, marking his point so it's unmistakeable. Later, he cups both palms in a rounded gesture, releasing the elegant lyricism in the finale, so it's illuminated like a halo. 

Another reason this concert was interesting was the world premiere of Rolf Hind's most extensive work to date, The Tiniest House of Time, for accordion and orchestra, with James Crabbe as soloist. "The accordion is cast as shaman-magician, party-animal, healer, rabble rouser" says Hind. Hence, perhaps the lively but controlled cacophony, wacky, swaying rhythms. Hollow metal sounds, folk-like bells, deep booming basses and low brass.  Three of the four sections are inspired by Persian poets (Rumi and Kabir), so the suggestion of dervish dance is prescient.  For me, the relationship between accordion and orchestra was paramount.  An accordion functions when air is squeezed through its chambers, shaping and elongating sound. The keys are played like a form of piano. Hind uses wind instruments to extend the idea of breathing, and strings and harmonium to reflect the idea of tinkling keys. Later in the piece, the string players hit the air with their bows, using invisble air just as the accordion does. The sound is only just audible, but the connection is clear. Hind's instrumentation also calls for wind whips, which create whirring noises when they're waved by the percussionists. The concept works fine as sound, but distracts visually.

More vaguely Persian exoticism in Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade op35 (1888) which followed, rather eclipsing Rolf Hind, whose work would have fared better in a more contemporary programme.  Scheherazade is so ubiquitous that everyone knows it, even if only through movies and TV ads.  In the concert hall, this poses a challenge. How to make it sound fresh and original? Hrůša's approach was to conduct it as if it were entirely new, its ideas undimmed by familiarity. Colours are kept scrupulously clean, so they dazzle. Hrůša and the BBCSO bring out the vivacious sparkle in the music. Scheherzade's tales are beautiful, but if she doesn't outwit the Sultan he will kill her, like he's killed so many women before. So the sour note in the woodwinds is perceptive, reminding us that beneath this glamour lies danger.

The solo violin (Stephen Bryant) and harp (Sionead Williams) mingle flirtatiously, but is this a duet or a duel?  Hrůša doesn't stint on the hyper-romantic luxury in the score, but does not muddy it in indulgent swoon. Details are carefully observed, like the military rat-a tat-tat of the small drum, supported by tambourine. These lovely tales unfold against a backdrop of fear.  Hrůša shows that Scheherazade and the Cunning Little Vixen are sisters, both using their charms to survive in dangerous environments.

Listen to this concert on 2nd December at 2 pm and for 7 days after on BBC Radio 3

Mozart Salieri and Rimsky-Korsakov - Young Artists Week, Linbury

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov's opera Mozart and Salieri (1897) received its first ever performance at the Royal Opera House as the highlight of Meet The Young Artists Week at the Linbury Studio Theatre.

Salieri is jealous because Mozart makes composing look easy. He poisons Mozart but weeps, since he's reading the score for The Requiem, presumably overwhelmed by its beauty. We know the plot is fiction, but the text is by Alexander Pushkin, who lifts it above maudlin melodrama. Salieri can kill Mozart but he can't kill his art. In destroying his rival, Salieri has compromised his integrity. "Can crime and genius go together?" he asks himself, and consoles himself with the thought that Michelangelo  killed his model for the crucified Christ to get a better likeness for death.  Does art justify murder? Pushkin and Rimsky-Korsakov possibly knew the tale was untrue, making Salieri's excuse highly ironic.
 
Mozart and Salieri is unusual. The part of Salieri so dominates the work that it is more psychodrama than opera. Mozart and Salieri barely interact. Mozart isn't a character so much as the embodiment of music. The real protagonists here are Salieri and the orchestra. At critical moments, Rimsky-Korsakov adds apposite musical quotations. Moments of Cherubino's Voi che sapete convey Mozart's youthful impudence. Fortepiano melodies are played, and shrouded figures sing excerpts from Mozart's Requiem.  References to Salieri's opera Tarare and to Beaumarchais and Haydn are embedded into text and orchestration, expanding Salieri's monologue. He can "hear" but he can't create like Mozart can. The Southbank Sinfonia was conducted by Paul Wingfield, with Michele Gamba playing the keyboard Mozart is seen playing invisibly on stage, his hands lit with golden light. A magical moment.

Ashley Riches sang the demanding role of Salieri. His experience and skill come over well, even though he's been a member of the Jette Parker Young Artists programme for barely a month. Later this year, he'll be singing parts in The Royal Opera House Robert le Diable, Don Carlo and La rondine, and covering the title role in Eugene Onegin.  In this opera, Mozart isn't given much to sing, and the range in the part is limited, but Pablo Bemsch developed the role purposefully through his acting. Salieri thinks Mozart is skittish: Bemsch with sheer personality shows that Mozart is a stronger character than Salieri could ever fathom. Bemsch is a second-year Young Artist and has been heard extensively. He's covering Lensky in February 2013.

The Jette Parker Young Artists Programme isn't just for singers but focuses on theatre skills. This production was one of the most sophisticated I've seen for a group with these relatively limited resources. Sophie Mosberger and Pedro Ribeiro designed an elegantly simple set, which suggested that Salieri, despite his  wealth and status, was a fundamentally isolated man. The little puppet figure buffeted by figures in the darkness suggested that both Mozart and Salieri were victims of forces greater than themselves. Exquisite lighting by Warren Letton, colours changing as mysteriously as the music. A stunning finale, where the dark figures singing the Requiem move around lighted candles. Since financial problems will haunt the opera world for a long time to come, this restrained but poetic minimalism may be the way ahead. This production was intelligently thought through, and musically sensitive.

 Before Rimsky-Korsakov's Mozart and Salieri, we heard Mozart's Bastien and Bastienne, written when the composer was twelve years old. It's a slight piece about a courtship between shepherd and shepherdess. Staging this literally would expose the weaknesses of the piece. Ribeiro and Mosberger set the Singspiele in a vaguely industrial landscape, which added much needed good humour and gave the singers more material with which to develop character. The trouble is, neither Bastien or Bastienne are much more than stereotypes. David Butt Philip, another new Young Artist, generates interest with his voice though the part is shallow. Dušica Bijelić sings sweetly but needs to project more forcefully. Jihoon Kim made a much more convincing portrayal of Colas, the wise older man who sorts things out. He was a striking Hector's Ghost in the Royal Opera House Les Troyens in June 2012, and will be singing in several ROH productions in the 2012/13 season.

The photo show Chaliapin singing Salieri in an early production.
A ful review with cast list will appear in Opera Today.

Amsterdam Invisible City of Kitezh - full review

Rimsky-Korsakov's Invisibe City of Kitezh is on now in Amsterdam at De Nederlandse Opera. Marc Albrecht conducts an all-Russian cast in a Tcherniakov production that whizzes between extremes of gloriousness and frustration. A bit like the story. Since we often get semi-staged Amsterdam productions at the Barbican, pay attention ! And please read Jim Sohre's detailed review "Amsterdam's Invisble, risible Kitezh" in  Opera Today - brilliant writing, so evocative and impossible to summarize. Enjoy, enjoy, this is a great read! To hear a full broadcast of the opera with Svetlanov, not commercially available, read HERE photo : Monika Rittershaus.

The Invisible City of Kitezh - full broadcast

Princess of Nature and the woods, Fevronia has come to Kitezh to marry Prince Yuri. But the Tatars are about to attack the city. So Fevronia uses her magical powers to disguise the city and make it invisible. Except on the shore of the lake, where it's reflected in a blaze of glory, its bells ringing elusively.

Rimsky-Korsakov's opera The Invisible City of Kitezh is lusciously gorgeous, divinely escapist. When Gergiev conducted it nearly 20 years ago, it was a sensation. Still only 3 versions currently available but HERE is a link to another, not on the comnmercial market. It's Evgeny Svetlanov. Enjoy! Please also read my other posts on Rimsky-Korsakov, like The Golden Cockerel and the Tsar's Bride (which I love - pity the ROH performance was boringly conducted, and the audience unprepared).

Rimsky-Korsakov The Golden Cockerel

The historic complete recording of Rimsky-Korsakov The Golden Cockerel (Le coq d'or) is available online for a week on BBC Radio 3
This is the famous 1985 recording from Bulgarian radio. It's so vivid that your imagination can create the scenes more gloriously than any "real" production constrained by practical concerns.

The main body of the opera is prefaced and followed by a short scene in which The Astrologer tells us what's about to happen. It feels like he's opening the lid of a lacquered box, so the contents spill out like amazing, fantastic jewels. You don't really need a libretto - everything's so sumptuous that words almost get in the way. The Astrologer should be a tenor altino, a tenor with an extremely high range that's almost falsetto. Tessitura to challenge reality. This is fairy tale in music, glorious illusion for its own sake.

The plot isn't realistic, either. King Dodon thinks the Queen of Shemaka is invading his land. The Astrologer has a Golden Cockerel that can speak. The King's sons attack the Queen but are smitten by her beauty, and are killed. Next, the King is smitten, too - who wouldn't be seduced by the Queen's arias? Trills and mellismas so fiendishly impossible that you're left gasping, how does she do it? Magic, of course. Then the lethal kick that's at the heart of every good fairy tale. The Astrologer wants the Queen as his reward for helping the King save his country  The king kills the Astrologer, but the Golden Cockerel kills the King. Magnificent fugue at the end of Act 3 (the end of the main opera) : a magic storm that chases the Kingdom away. Then the Astrologer returns, announcing that it was all fantasy. The lid on the gilded lacquer box is closed again.

This performance is fabulous, in the real meaning of the word. The conductor, Dimiter Manolov, shapes details like a jeweller crafting gems: tremulous strings, resonant but clean vibrato, swooping diminuendos that cut through the richness, reminding us that under the magic, there's something unnatural and even chilling.

The Golden Cockerel is well known as Diaghilev's Le Coq d'Or where ballet was added to make the heady concoction even more potent. The picture above is one of Natalia Goncharova's designs for the Ballet Russe. She made equally splendid designs for each scene, even for backdrops and the opening curtain. How spectacular it must have been!  And then the 1914-18 war and the Russian Revolution. So maybe The Golden Cockerel is a last glimpse of a magnificent dream.

Overnight broadcasts like "Through the Night" are full of hidden treasures like this Golden Cockerel, and serve a purpose, especially for more eclectic (and discriminating) tastes.  Apparently they might be phased out as part of the BBC cuts. Already, there's no music on BBC Radio 3 after 10 pm. Technology has changed. Time slots are irrelevant in our 24/7 internet culture. So it's vital that we give "Through the Night" credit. Real enthusiasts don't switch off at 10 pm and go to bed. They're listening everywhere at different times. Please read more here about why we should be worrying about the long term implications of then BBC cuts.

Not Sheherezade - The Tsar's Bride Royal Opera House

Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tsar's Bride opened at the Royal Opera House, London yesterday. Everyone knows the famous Overture, but few outside Russian-speaking countries know the opera as a whole. Audiences expecting Sheherezade will be in for a shock. The Tsar's Bride is no fairy-tale fantasy. The first image you see is one of a crumpled, semi-naked figure tied to a chair. Grigory Gryaznoy (Johan Reuter), the oprichnik, here seen as a kind of Mafia boss, removes the victim's hood, it shows he's been tortured. They are both in a luxuriously appointed night club, after hours. Waiters mill about, but no-one dares intervene. It's a metaphor for the whole opera, which deals with the vicious abuse of power. Everyone can be bought if the price is right, sings Lyubasha (Ekaterina Gubanova). She knows she's doomed, since Gryaznoy has found another love. When he and his cronies throw a party, they're entertained by lap dancers, desperate young women who sell themselves to survive.

Luxury, contrasted with degradation.  Gryaznoy has been smitten by Marfa (Marina Poplavskaya), the daughter of Vasily Sobakin (Paata Burchuladze). The family is happy as all seems to be going well.They are merchants from Novgorod. They don't normally move in dissolute Court circles, but Marfa is engaged to her childhood sweetheart Ivan Likov (Dmytro Popov), who has returned to her after years in the Tsar's service. Burchuladze, Popov, Poplavskaya and Jurgita Adamonytė (Dunyasha) sing the beautiful Act II Quartet joyfully but it's heartbreaking to know what lies ahead. Rimsky-Korsakov writes relatively little for Marfa to sing until the end, because she's a modest virgin.  In Act II, Poplavskaya's voice created Marfa's  optimism perfectly. She's dressed at first in a version of a man's three-piece suit but that actually emphasizes her innate femininity. She's not self conscious, she's herself. No silly coquettry, but clear toned directness of expression. Poplavskaya can be touchingly tender when she sings of her childhood, but she creates Marfa as a morally upright personality. It works well dramatically. because this honest Marfa has more integrity than anyone else. No wonder Gryzanoy and the Tsar are hypnotized. When a person like that gets destroyed by the mean and venal, it's much more tragic than if it were someone you can't relate to.

Act II takes place in an oligarch's penthouse, complete with swimming pool and a breathtaking view of the Moscow skyline. New buildings, some still with cranes. New money, ostentatious consumption, greed. The Tsars weren't the only rulers to misuse their authority, as Russian-speaking audiences were only too aware. Gryaznoy plots to win Marfa with a love potion concocted by Bomelius, the sinister German apothecary (Vasily Gorshkov) . What he doesn't know is that Lyubasha has switched the potion for poison. What none of them knows until the last moment is that the Tsar has pulled a switch on them all by deciding, arbitrarily, to marry Marfa himself. The Tsar (in this case Ivan the Terrible) is an invisible presence, all the more menacing because he's unseen and unheard, but destroys everyone's plans. Just as no-one stops Gryzanov, no-one stops the Tsar.

In the Tsar's ornate, golden palace, Marfa, now Tsarina, is dying.  Marina Poplavskaya's  portrayal of Marfa now revealed its true fire and intelligence. Poplavskaya is too good to indulge in a standardized  "mad scene".  She sings so each phrase means something, as if Marfa is trying to process in her mind a source of evil beyond her comprehension. "Where's Likov?", she's thinking, and turns to Gryaznoy mistaking him for the man she's longing for. It's so disturbing that even he is moved. Because Poplavska makes us realize that Marfa is a human being, not a lunatic, she makes us empathize.

Poplavkaya's Marfa is truly the daughter of a father like Paata Burchuladze's Sobakin. As soon as he begins to sing in Act II, he lifts the ante for the whole cast. His is a real "Russian" bass, with dark gravitas, given extra colour by his extensive experience in Italian repertoire. His Act IV aria, "Zabylasya" compresses a huge emotional range into a few minutes. Sobakin isn't a man of many words, but he's deep. Even when he's not singing, he's a presence, blocked by the director Paul Curran so he's the pivot of proceedings. Just as the Tsar doesn't need to sing to be effective, Burchuladze stands at the centre of ensembles, observing and thinking. When he slits Gryaznoy's thoat, it's so sudden and subtle that you realize that Sobakin has been building up quietly to this final act of desperation.

Ekaterina Guberova's Lyubasha was strongly characterized too. In Act I, she pleases the mobsters by singing her charming folk song, but adds a deliberate air of toughness, which shows how unnatural the situation really is. Perhaps Lyubasha was once like Marfa is now? In the second Act, Lyubasha spies on Marfa and knows she can't compete, Guberova captures her despair and revulsion at the price she must pay to bribe Bomelius. It's only in her final aria that she confronts herself and Gryaznoy. "Straight through the heart" she sings when he stabs her.

Johan Reuter is a vocally acceptable Gryaznoy. But his even-toned solidity implies that he's fundamentally too nice to portray a villain whose whole life has been spent casually killing and maiming. The part can be created with swaggering sexual menace, but not in this production. By falling for Marfa, Gryaznoy is beginning to see the error of his ways, but characters like that don't normally reform or they don't survive.
 
Alexander Vinogradov 's Malyuta-Skuratov is more in character, as was Vasily Gorshov's Bomelius, but both have less to sing. Dmytro Popov's Likov is presented well vocally, but perhaps Rimsky-Korsakov realized that the role is no match against Gryaznoy or even, to some extent, to Marfa. Jurgita Adamonytė's Dunyasha was well delivered but the part has "downcast eyes". Even Lyubasha dismisses her as a threat. As always, the chorus of vthe Royal Opera House was excellent, and the dancers were clearly professionally trained. No ordiuinary choristers can do high kicks and contortions like they did. In the pit, Sir Mark Elder conducted well, though not with the verve specialists in this repertoire might attain. Altogether, a very good experience, which deserves to be heard again. Perhaps one day, when London gets the Russian idiom into its heart, The Tsar's Bride will be appreciated for the opera it is.
Full review wth extra photos will appear shortly in Opera Today. Please also see my other posts about this opera, including a short extract from the 1983 Bolshoi film and an interview with Paata Burchuladze.  All photos copyright Bill Cooper, courtesy of Royal Opera House, London. (details embedded)

Tsar's Bride = the movie

Sobakin, Marfa, Dunyasha and Vanya Lykov are heading forth into what they think will be a glorious future.  But we know what really lies ahead. I'm still on a high from Rimsky-Korsakov The Tsar's Bride at the Royal Opera House tonight, Please read my REVIEW HERE   and playing the Mansourov recording from 1973 with Galina Vishnevskaya. But here is a clip from the 1983 film from the Bolshoi (Yuri Simonov conducts). Isn't it gorgeous- wide open spaces, Marfa's complexion so perfect it's like a baby. Now we see why the oprichniks are singing about Germany, where there are "tall mountains, big cities" and other exotic things. In Russia, what they knew were open plains, wide rivers and "the wind of freedom". Bomelius, the crooked chemist, "isn't one of us" sing the chorus. He's a German. Enjoy the film, it's beautifully made and the singing is good. It's available in the ROH shop, I just discovered. FULL REVIEW of the performance at the Royal Opera House to follow

The Tsar's Bride - Burchuladze's Sobakin

Rimsky-Korsakov's The Tsar's Bride is standard repertoire in Russian-speaking countries, but rarely produced in the west (though there are several recordings). So when it comes to the Royal Opera House, London, this week it will be an occasion. "A tale of passion, poison and corruption" goes the ROH publicity. The Tsar in question is Ivan the Terrible. Since it was forbidden to depict a Tsar in the theatre, his presence looms over the opera, all the more threatening because the menace is concealed. The Tsar as symbol of authority that answers only to itself, and works in secretive ways.  Perhaps the Tsar's Bride is popular because people in Russian-speaking countries recognize the archetype.  The opera can pack a lethal punch.

A girl called Marfa is about to marry Lykov, whom she loves. Her father Sobakin feels he's the happiest man in the world. His favourite daughter is happy, his family is settled, he has wealth and status. But then Marfa is spotted by Gryazanoy, an oprichnik (combination of bodyguard, mafiosi, NKVD operator and hardman). Gryazanoy's mistress Lyubasha, evidently his soulmate, plots to poison Marfa. Then the Tsar himself spots Marfa and decides to marry her but all this grief drives Marfa mad and she dies. So much for happiness in a society where authority is abused and evil rules.

Paata Burchuladze is singing Sobakin to Marina Poplavskaya's Marfa and John Reuter's Gryaznoy. “Sobakin’s famous Act IV aria, “Zabylasya”, says Burchuladze, “doesn’t last very long, but it’s very touching. It’s poignant because he is expressing a great range of feelings, sorrow, loss and also, anger. Sobakin is a good man, but in this vendetta, he is capable of killing, too”.

Burchuladze has created most of the classic bass roles in the repertoire, and has sung Boris Gudonov in nearly every major house in the world.  Boris is another authority figure, but fundamerntally different to the unscruplous tyrants in The Tsar's Bride. “Boris is a good man”, says Burchuladze. “Nobody knows if he killed the Tsarevich. Maybe he just thought about it and his followers did the work. But Boris feels guilt. He feels sorry for what has happened. So many people with that kind of power have no conscience. They kill and hurt people without any responsibility. Boris gets depressed because he knows right from wrong. That’s why he’s a good person”.

Burchuladze, born in Tbilisi in 1955, is a specialist in Russian and Italian repertoire. He's had a fascinating life, and has an expansive, personality, a lot like Luciano Pavarotti his friend and mentor.
 Please read this interview which appears in Opera Today.
Lots of sound clips from his recordings on his website.