"Embodying a range of iconic female characters from history, literature and song — both the ‘good’ and the ‘not-so-good’ — Susan Graham delivered a wonderfully suave and entertaining performance before a delighted Wigmore Hall audience. Much of the success, both musical and theatrical, was surely due to the finely-tuned partnership between Graham and her frequent collaborator, pianist Malcolm Martineau. The ease with which Martineau moved between idioms, the naturalness and fluency of the dialogue he shaped between piano and voice, and his sensitive gradation of dynamics and timbre all contributed immensely to the superb, sustained quality of the recital"
Showing posts with label art song. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art song. Show all posts
Sunday, 8 July 2012
Monday, 19 December 2011
Véronique Gens Wigmore Hall Massenet Gounod Hahn
It's unusual too, focussing on songs by Jules Massenet and Charles Gounod, better known outside France for their operas, contrasted with songs by Reynaldo Hahn. It's a good combination because it presents French song in context, and also suggests why French opera is so distinctive.
Massenet's Chant provençal describes a girl so pure she doesn't know her charms. Charlotte or Sophie? The piano part (Susan Manoff) protectively shields Gens's delicate vocal line. True innocence is harder to portray than extravagance. The trite poetry of L'âme des oiseaux is rescued by legato into which Gens breathes, suggesting flight and movement. Altogether more sophisticated is the justly famous La mort de la cigale. It's an observation from nature, hushed in wonder. Only when the cicada is dead can the voice break out in protest. The cicada's life is too short. As is ours.
Soleil couchant is based on a poem by Victor Hugo, who builds inner phrases into each line, creating an inner rhythm which Massenet respects in the range with which he sets each line. Gens is a soprano, but with such depth that she could be a falcon. Nothing simple about this sunset, for night will turn to day, just as rivers flow from mountains to the ocean. "Mais moi, sous chaque jour courbant plus bas ma tête, Je passe et, refroidi sous ce soleil joyeux, Je m'en irai bientôt, au milieu de la fête, Sans que rien manque au monde immense et radieux!" Listen to how Gens shapes the rolling phrases and then breathes expansively into the last three words so they glow, and Manoff's piano cries in affirmation.
Gounod was a generation older than Massenet, and his songs reflect a different sensibilty. Gens sings them elegantly, beautifully decorating the trills in Sérénade. Exquisite singing, reminding me of the "alpine" lines in Schubert Der Hirt auf dem Felsen. This poem is Victor Hugo again, from his drama Mary Tudor. Gounod sets it as a lilting berceuse. It's charming, but we'd best forget what happened to Mary! Including the Lamento by Edmond, Prince de Polignac among the Gounod songs was a good idea. The Lamento is sensual, like a serenade on a lute, but has the air of something alien and and exotic. It connects the mood of Massenet's Nuit d'Espagne and even the open-spirited lyricism of Gounod's Ou voulez-vous aller? with the world of Reynaldo Hahn. One belle époque leading to the next.
Reynaldo Hahn's music evokes for me the luxury of salons graced by such as the Prince de Polignac and his widow Winaretta Singer, friend of Nadia Boulanger and Hugues Cuénod. Hahn's music is highly perfumed but its refinement is by no means merely decorative. A Chloris, for example, the song everyone loves, is based on renaissance court poetry and Bach's Air on the G String, reimagined through the prism of Paris in 1913. Hahn and his circle were fully aware of what Debussy, Stravinsky and others were doing. A Chloris is an exotic hybrid, a hothouse flowering that survived because it catches the imagination. For Véronique Gens, it's a link between her baroque background and her championship of later French repertoire.
Thursday, 17 November 2011
Fauré Mirages - filming art song
It is my honour to present Gabriel Fauré's Mirages in these videos by Corinne Orde. Art song is poetry expanded through music, expanded further by performance. And in this case, exceptionally vivid filming, which absolutely enhances the experience. So an organic flow between the ideas that inspired the poet (Mme la Baronne Renée de Brimont) to the way Fauré sets the poems, and the way they're expressed in this performance. Study these well, for they are a lesson in how art song interpretation can be extended through intelligent film making. Look how beautiful the camera work is, too! Even the translation is way above average, much more natural and poetic than most available. This one should be the standard. An observant eye for nature, too (nature filning is also a specialist genre). Altogether an impressive Gesammstkunstwerk, extremely sensitive and creative. Not many people possess this wide range of skills. Pretty unique. Just sourcing the locations would be hard work. Please read more about Corinne Orde HERE and explore her other films of French songs (I love her Ravel Histoires naturelles) Here is a link to her youtube channel, to which I've subscribed, but these films are so good that they should be screened in performance events.Please see lots more on nthis site about filming nmusic and music on film,
Wednesday, 12 May 2010
English Song is alive and well
"Everyone’s heard Sir Richard Rodney Bennett, even if they don’t realize it. He wrote the music for the films Four Weddings and a Funeral, Far from the Madding Crowd and Murder On the Orient Express. He embraces jazz, cabaret and show tunes enthusiastically, yet he studied with Pierre Boulez for two years. The four Dream Songs (1986) are to poems by Walter de la Mare, catching the poet’s delicate magic. “Elf-light, bat-light, touchwood-light…in a dream beguiling in a dream of wonders in a world far away”......
Bennett, though, isn’t by any means the only English composer writing art song. There are many others less well known but very good indeed. Bickley and Burnside chose a small sample from the iconic NMC Songbook. NMC is an innovative, independent company, dedicated to promoting the best in modern British song. The NMC Songbook won the 2009 Gramophone award for Best Contemporary Recording. It’s a window on what’s happening in British music.Such a range of composers and styles! Diverse as the scene is, it’s definitely creative.
John White’s Houses and Gardens in the Heart of England sets the text of a tourist brochure. It’s hilarious, playing with the self consciously stunted Officialese. Bickley sings with mock solemnity, Burnside brings out the free flowing liveliness in the piano part. This song is so good it should be standard repertoire. Jeremy Dale Roberts (b 1934) Spoken to a Bronze Head is an elegiac contemplation of the passage of time, well paced and elegant. Julian Grant’s Know thy Kings and Queens is an exercise in downbeat humour, while in Brian Elias’s Meet me in the Green Glen, plangent lines recall plainchant. Richard Baker’s Lullaby pits jerky staccato piano against voice in brittle irony. Not a typical soothing lullaby : this baby fights back!"
See the full review in Opera Today.
The English Song Weekend in Ludlow starts soon. BEST place for English Song! Above: Susan Bickley [Photo: Samantha Ovens]
Monday, 8 March 2010
MEASHA!!!!!
Measha Brueggergosman is MEASHA!!!!, capital letters and exclamation points, every time. She's irrepressible, her personality larger than life. She was probably a DIVA!!!! in kindergarten, but a level-headed diva in touch with reality. I first saw her years ago at the Wigmore Hall Song Competition. She won second prize but that was the year they controversially didn't award a first prize at all (Erik Nelson Werner won the Audience prize). Even then she had stage presence. Since then she's gone on to many things and sang the opening song at the Winter Olympics. Not that that means you star at La Scala and wipe La Renée out of the Met, but Measha is rivetting.
It was good to hear her again at the Wigmore Hall on Sunday, with Justus Zeyen, who turned up in jeans because his luggage was lost at the airport No problem: good singing is communication, not packaging, and Measha communicates, big time. She sang Berg, surprisingly well. People have hang-ups about Berg, not realizing how laidback he can be. Measha singing Der Wein would be great, as she'd get the slightly boozy sensuality better than most. Jessye Norman, for example, whose Der Wein is my favourite, isn't louche enough.
At the WH Song Competition, I think she sang Le Spectre de la Rose. She was born to sing Berlioz, but managed nicely with Duparc and Fauré. She's capable of greater refinement and delicacy, but that would have been lost at a matinee with an audience largely made up of people who don't usually go to art song recitals. Still, she managed to get them to listen even though the words were "in foreign". Had she ventured into Susan Graham territory with some of the funnier, wilder French repertoire she would have had them astounded even if they didn't understand a word. Imagine her singing Banalités or Rapsodie nègre, where language is no barrier. She's proof that you don't need to dumb down to reach non-classical audiences. Just do what you do with enthusiasm and verve.
As an encore she sang a spiritual. She doesn't do soul. She's Canadian. On the other hand it demonstrated her vocal range and flexibility. This is a voice that could do a lot, and venture into parts unknown - music could be written for this voice. Much as Measha clowns about, I think she has reserves of steel, and is capable of disciplined practice and development. She's only 32, after all, which is still very young for a singer.
There are thousands of young singers about. Even very good singers face a horrific uphill struggle to succeed. She has what it takes, I think, and certainly the dramatic ability to do well in opera. But it's a long, difficult battle, you can't drop the ball for a minute. Yet she's so charismatic that she could succeed in many ways. I can even imagine her hosting serious music shows, singing or presenting. (though not together). She doesn't need to dumb down, she's got enough genuine charm to enthuse people.
Her pianist here, Justus Zeyen, regularly plays for Thomas Quasthoff, who's rumoured to please some kinds of audience by knocking the "serious stuff" though I haven't heard that myself. Which is fine, it's his choice. But Measha is s such a natural communicator that she won't need to differentiate between serious and non-serious. (If her Motherless child is anything to go by, she should steer clear of jazz.) She's interesting enough to stick to what she's good at, and do it with warmth and vivacity. She's got so much of that, she doesn't need to compromise. Classical music needs people like that. No dumbing down!
It was good to hear her again at the Wigmore Hall on Sunday, with Justus Zeyen, who turned up in jeans because his luggage was lost at the airport No problem: good singing is communication, not packaging, and Measha communicates, big time. She sang Berg, surprisingly well. People have hang-ups about Berg, not realizing how laidback he can be. Measha singing Der Wein would be great, as she'd get the slightly boozy sensuality better than most. Jessye Norman, for example, whose Der Wein is my favourite, isn't louche enough.
At the WH Song Competition, I think she sang Le Spectre de la Rose. She was born to sing Berlioz, but managed nicely with Duparc and Fauré. She's capable of greater refinement and delicacy, but that would have been lost at a matinee with an audience largely made up of people who don't usually go to art song recitals. Still, she managed to get them to listen even though the words were "in foreign". Had she ventured into Susan Graham territory with some of the funnier, wilder French repertoire she would have had them astounded even if they didn't understand a word. Imagine her singing Banalités or Rapsodie nègre, where language is no barrier. She's proof that you don't need to dumb down to reach non-classical audiences. Just do what you do with enthusiasm and verve.
As an encore she sang a spiritual. She doesn't do soul. She's Canadian. On the other hand it demonstrated her vocal range and flexibility. This is a voice that could do a lot, and venture into parts unknown - music could be written for this voice. Much as Measha clowns about, I think she has reserves of steel, and is capable of disciplined practice and development. She's only 32, after all, which is still very young for a singer.
There are thousands of young singers about. Even very good singers face a horrific uphill struggle to succeed. She has what it takes, I think, and certainly the dramatic ability to do well in opera. But it's a long, difficult battle, you can't drop the ball for a minute. Yet she's so charismatic that she could succeed in many ways. I can even imagine her hosting serious music shows, singing or presenting. (though not together). She doesn't need to dumb down, she's got enough genuine charm to enthuse people.
Her pianist here, Justus Zeyen, regularly plays for Thomas Quasthoff, who's rumoured to please some kinds of audience by knocking the "serious stuff" though I haven't heard that myself. Which is fine, it's his choice. But Measha is s such a natural communicator that she won't need to differentiate between serious and non-serious. (If her Motherless child is anything to go by, she should steer clear of jazz.) She's interesting enough to stick to what she's good at, and do it with warmth and vivacity. She's got so much of that, she doesn't need to compromise. Classical music needs people like that. No dumbing down!
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Laci Boldemann, von Otter, Swedish discoveries
This is the recording which features Laci Boldemann's 4 Epitaphs, which so stunned audiences at Anne Sofie von Otter's recital at the Wigmore Hall in 2003. The 4 Epitaphs are based on Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology (1915). That too is a remarkable work. Masters writes fictional epitaphs, each of which tells the story of the person supposedly buried beneath. Ollie McGee denounces her abusive husband. "In death, I am avenged". Sarah Brown tells her lover to tell her husband "There is no marriage in Heaven. But there is love".
Each of these miniatures is so intense that the "personalities" come alive. Laci Boldemann's settings are similarly terse and direct. He gets straight to the point, expressing the "person" by inflections in phrasing and syntax, rather than through ornamentation. The songs feel like speech, just as you'd expect from gritty pioneer folk who don't mince words. The songs are scored for string orchestra, with textures clean and free, evoking wide open spaces perhaps, or the other plane that is death. Amazing songs! A pity we had to wait til 2009 for their release. Anne Sofie von Otter's delivery is perfectly judged, dignified and unsentimental.
A pity, too, that Boldemann set only four of Masters's 244 vignettes. But in a way that clarity illuminates them. Boldemann was an interesting man. His parents were relatives of Aino Sibelius, and they hung out in artistic and music circles in Finland, Germany and Sweden. Nonetheless, Boldemann (1921-69) was drafted into the German Army but luckily became a POW, and spent time in the US. One day perhaps we'll hear programmes with his chamber music and these wonderful songs. I've found THIS but no other details.
Another discovery on this CD ( from DG) is Hans Gefors (b 1952) Lydias sånger. (rev 2003) It's an ambitious cycle, giving von Otter no respite : she has to sing against the Gothenberg Symphony Orchestra for half and hour without a break. Fortunately Kent Nagano conducts with sparse elegance. This is a saga-like dramatic narrative, so the range is demanding, too. The piece is loosely based on Hjalmar Söderberg's novel A Serious Game recounting an affair between a married woman and a music critic, so references to music and literature abound. Texts include Heine, Michelangelo and Bizet's Carmen. Gefors's setting are free enough that his work doesn't feel like an adaptation, but rather a series of mood pieces that create an ambience that may reflect the feelings in the novel rather than literal events. Some gems here, like The Sphinx , an unusual Heine poem that's defied most composers. Gefors captures the enigma. O schöne Sphinx! O löse mir Das Rätsel, das wunderbare!
Another world premiere starts the CD : Anders Hillborg, .....lontana in sonno....(2003) It's atmospheric, and von Otter sings the discursive phrases with sensitivity, matched by Nagano's restraint.
The Gefors and Hillborg pieces were commissioned for Anne Sofie von Otter. She's a wonderful singer, but eventually all singers retire. Hopefully, she'll be with us a long, long time. But she has done so much for unusual and new repertoire, and for Scandinavian music in particular, that her legacy will be greater and more lasting even than her singing. Twenty years ago, there were people who didn't know the songs of Grieg or Sibelius, far less Petersen-Berger or Stenhammer or Boldemann, and big names like Fischer-Dieskau didn't sing them. (Schwarzkopf did, and loved Luonnotar) Partly this is because an inordinate number of these songs are written for female voice - I don't know why. But von Otter has brought them out into the mainstream, where they belong, alongside the great German and French classics.
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
June - English Song Weekend Shropshire
June in Shropshire, by the banks of the river Teme, the perfect image of England in summer. The English Song Weekend takes place in Ludlow 3 to 6 June. This is the absolute, ultimate Festival of English Song, lovingly organized by Finzi Friends, who know and care passionately about the genre. It's only held once every three years, so it really is a special occasion. People come from all over the world. Link HERE.
This year's schedule is good. Well chosen programmes. One's called "A Satnav of English song", with songs about different parts of England. It's one of Iain Burnside's witty compilations: Roderick Williams and Andrew Kennedy sing with Burnside at the piano.
But devotees come because this is a gathering of anyone who's anything in English song. It's a meeting place for old friends and new: great atmosphere. The talks and workshops are good, and quite in-depth. Being in Ludlow to hear Kate Kennedy analyze By Ludlow and Teme will make the performance specially interesting. Pam Blevins will talk on Howells and Gurney. Hilary Finch and Huw Watkins (who played Henze piano solos at the Barbican, Saturday) will discuss song in the 21st century. This is a progressive festival - new talent always supported. There's a competition for composers, and Ann Murray will give masterclasses.
Two unusual events, too. Burnside's created a fully staged theatre piece linking songs and poems about war. There'll also be another concert mixing singing and acting: different responses to poetry.
Then there's the food. Shropshire is traditional market garden and orchard country, and Ludlow is home to some of Britain's top restaurants. More Michelin starred places than anywhere outside London, including the culty La Bécasse and Mr Underhill's, both foodie pilgrimage sites. The local market (with traditional bakers and cheese makers) is so good that you can get way above average picnic stuff too.
And of course the countryside! June is the best time to explore the English countryside, everything's lush and green. Ludlow is still well preserved, medieval buildings and an old castle, no urban sprawl, a huge area of natural woods and parkland, and of course the river. That's part of the attraction, which London cannot possibly match. The pace of life here is not, perhaps, all that different from the early years of the last century, if you lie on a hillside and look out on the rolling fields around, and hear the blackbird's song:
"Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;
The sun moves always west;
The road one treads to labour
Will lead one home to rest,
And that will be the best."
Sunday, 10 January 2010
Lieder texts - best source ever
Far and away the best source of Lieder and Song Texts is Emily Ezust's website. It "is an archive of texts used in 72,251 Lieder and other classical art songs (Kunstlieder, mélodies, canzoni, романсы, canciones, liederen, canções, sånger, laulua, písně, piosenki, etc.) as well as in many choral works and other types of classical vocal pieces. The collection currently indexes 43,824 texts and includes 9,255 translations to English, French, Italian, Dutch, German, Spanish, Portuguese, and other languages. The site has frequent updates." There were technical problems for a week, but it's back online.
Quite frankly, there's nothing like it. For the last 15 years, it's been an essential tool for song people, endlessly useful. Reach it HERE or use the link on the right of this page.
Obviously anyone with even the most basic interest in Lieder already has the texts of famous pieces. It's an oxymoron. It''s impossible "not" to have a recording of Winterreise or any of the great classics even if you aren't specially into song. Emily's site is wonderful because it goes far beyond "greatest hits" and covers thousands of songs whose texts aren't easily available. Also many composers and poets who aren't generally known.
But text alone isn't what song is about. The site has translations in several languages, as text is of limited value if meaning isn't known. Translations are a tool, not the "real thing", so it's usually a good idea to do your own, even if there's a very good translation. (get Richard Stokes's translations for the Gold Standard). Doing your own is good, because that gets you deeper into the text and the way it works. And the way words work with music tells a lot about the composer and his response to the text: which in turn tells you something about the composer's mindset. That's the joy of hearing different settings of the same text.
Often, you think you know something because it's familiar and take it for granted. It's not easy to blank out meaning in languages you know, so it's a good exercise to listen to songs in languages like Finnish or Czech. You grasp meaning by intonation and inflections in the voice. It's more intense than ordinary listening. Even if you miss out on the full import, you focus on the innate music in the sound of the language. That's why modern composers are fond of obscure languages, which convey something, but aren't explicit.
Once I went to a recital of a new cycle in ancient Sumerian or something like that. Huge audience, which was a big surprise. "Guess no one here speaks...." said the composer. Dozens of hands shot up. "Yes, we do!" The concert took place in Oxford, one of the few places in the world where you'd get a room-full of people who'd specially come because they knew the obscure language in question.
Perhaps someone reading this can advise, what is the status of translations from copyright texts? Usually you need formal approval, but would one way to get around this be to summarize in prose (not as direct translation)? There's one very good song cycle, where the composer wrote his own texts, but his English isn't nearly as good as his native German (or his music). Chances are the work will be "closed" to non-German speakers, which will be a pity, as it's an excellent cycle.
Quite frankly, there's nothing like it. For the last 15 years, it's been an essential tool for song people, endlessly useful. Reach it HERE or use the link on the right of this page.
Obviously anyone with even the most basic interest in Lieder already has the texts of famous pieces. It's an oxymoron. It''s impossible "not" to have a recording of Winterreise or any of the great classics even if you aren't specially into song. Emily's site is wonderful because it goes far beyond "greatest hits" and covers thousands of songs whose texts aren't easily available. Also many composers and poets who aren't generally known.
But text alone isn't what song is about. The site has translations in several languages, as text is of limited value if meaning isn't known. Translations are a tool, not the "real thing", so it's usually a good idea to do your own, even if there's a very good translation. (get Richard Stokes's translations for the Gold Standard). Doing your own is good, because that gets you deeper into the text and the way it works. And the way words work with music tells a lot about the composer and his response to the text: which in turn tells you something about the composer's mindset. That's the joy of hearing different settings of the same text.
Often, you think you know something because it's familiar and take it for granted. It's not easy to blank out meaning in languages you know, so it's a good exercise to listen to songs in languages like Finnish or Czech. You grasp meaning by intonation and inflections in the voice. It's more intense than ordinary listening. Even if you miss out on the full import, you focus on the innate music in the sound of the language. That's why modern composers are fond of obscure languages, which convey something, but aren't explicit.
Once I went to a recital of a new cycle in ancient Sumerian or something like that. Huge audience, which was a big surprise. "Guess no one here speaks...." said the composer. Dozens of hands shot up. "Yes, we do!" The concert took place in Oxford, one of the few places in the world where you'd get a room-full of people who'd specially come because they knew the obscure language in question.
Perhaps someone reading this can advise, what is the status of translations from copyright texts? Usually you need formal approval, but would one way to get around this be to summarize in prose (not as direct translation)? There's one very good song cycle, where the composer wrote his own texts, but his English isn't nearly as good as his native German (or his music). Chances are the work will be "closed" to non-German speakers, which will be a pity, as it's an excellent cycle.
Monday, 26 October 2009
Ned Rorem Evidence of Things Not Seen - Oxford Lieder
Ned Rorem's Evidence of Things Not Seen received its European premiere in Oxford. Rorem is a very important song composer, and this is a major cycle so it's a scoop for the Oxford Lieder Festival. Oxford Lieder spots what's good long before it reaches the mainstream. This is the way to keep your fingers on the pulse of what's happening in art song. Some of these concerts will be repeated later in London, but Oxford is where things start.
It's strange that a composer as famous as Ned Rorem should be considered "unknown" in Europe. He may not be performed here as frequently as he is in the US but everyone has access to recordings. Susan Grahams's Rorem Songs was a huge hit a few years ago, winning awards all over. Carole Farley's recorded him for Naxos and there's even a British recording of his Auden and Santa Fe songs (Black Box) And these are the tip of the iceberg.
The Prince Consort have recorded Rorem's On an Echoing Road for Linn. It's excellent - follow the link for extensive sound samples and hear why! Highly recommended for those who love RVW, Quilter, etc and want to hear how Rorem rejuvenates the form.
The Prince Consort is another Oxford Lieder discovery. This is a lively, flexible ensemble which brings together some of the most exciting young singers around. Many are already quite high profile - some have been heard at the Royal Opera House, Glyndebourne and Salzburg. They're seriously good - grab tickets for their Wigmore Hall appearance in January 2010.
Evidence of Things Not Seen is a collection of 36 songs that flow together to form a whole greater than its parts. The first group of songs are optimistic, open ended. Rorem calls them "Beginnings". "From whence cometh song?" is the very first line. The same questioning reappears throughout the cycle, expressed in Rorem's characteristic rising and falling cadences.
"Middles" (the middle section) explores ideas more deeply, rather like development in symphonic form. There are some very strong songs here, such as ..I saw a mass, from John Woolman's Journal. Woolman was a Quaker, and Quaker values infuse the whole 80 minute sequence. Indeed, the the title Evidence of Things Not seen comes from William Penn. Rorem's cadences are light quiet breathing, the way Quakers think things through in silent contemplation. Two songs to poems by Stephen Crane, The Candid Man and A Learned Man, provide counterpoint. The candid man blusters, using violence to impose his will.
Rorem chooses his texts carefully. Middles ends with a song to an 18th century hymn text by Thomas Ken which leads into Julien Green's He thinks upon his Death. W H Auden jostles with Robert Frost, Colette with A E Housman. Mark Doty and Paul Monette write poems referring to AIDS. Jane Kenyon's The Sick Wife poignantly describes a woman lost , still young, to some illness that keep her alive but barely sensate. In its own simple, direct way it connects to the final song, in which Penn reflects on the Bible. "For Death is no more than the Turning of us over from Time to Eternity". Whatever the Evidence of Things Not Seen may be, following the journey in a performance as good as this is a moving experienece.
The Prince Consort was represented tonight by its founder, the pianist Alisdair Hogarth, and the singers Anna Leese, Jennifer Johnston, Nicholas Mulroy and Jacques Imbrailo (a former Jette Parker artist) Perhaps the sparse audience showed that people are scared off by the idea of an "unknown" modern American composer. Too bad, it's their loss. This was excellent music in excellent performance and really deserved better exposure. Public booking for the Wigmore Hall concert in January starts next week - don't miss the next chance to hear these songs again.
It's strange that a composer as famous as Ned Rorem should be considered "unknown" in Europe. He may not be performed here as frequently as he is in the US but everyone has access to recordings. Susan Grahams's Rorem Songs was a huge hit a few years ago, winning awards all over. Carole Farley's recorded him for Naxos and there's even a British recording of his Auden and Santa Fe songs (Black Box) And these are the tip of the iceberg.
The Prince Consort have recorded Rorem's On an Echoing Road for Linn. It's excellent - follow the link for extensive sound samples and hear why! Highly recommended for those who love RVW, Quilter, etc and want to hear how Rorem rejuvenates the form.
The Prince Consort is another Oxford Lieder discovery. This is a lively, flexible ensemble which brings together some of the most exciting young singers around. Many are already quite high profile - some have been heard at the Royal Opera House, Glyndebourne and Salzburg. They're seriously good - grab tickets for their Wigmore Hall appearance in January 2010.
Evidence of Things Not Seen is a collection of 36 songs that flow together to form a whole greater than its parts. The first group of songs are optimistic, open ended. Rorem calls them "Beginnings". "From whence cometh song?" is the very first line. The same questioning reappears throughout the cycle, expressed in Rorem's characteristic rising and falling cadences.
"Middles" (the middle section) explores ideas more deeply, rather like development in symphonic form. There are some very strong songs here, such as ..I saw a mass, from John Woolman's Journal. Woolman was a Quaker, and Quaker values infuse the whole 80 minute sequence. Indeed, the the title Evidence of Things Not seen comes from William Penn. Rorem's cadences are light quiet breathing, the way Quakers think things through in silent contemplation. Two songs to poems by Stephen Crane, The Candid Man and A Learned Man, provide counterpoint. The candid man blusters, using violence to impose his will.
Rorem chooses his texts carefully. Middles ends with a song to an 18th century hymn text by Thomas Ken which leads into Julien Green's He thinks upon his Death. W H Auden jostles with Robert Frost, Colette with A E Housman. Mark Doty and Paul Monette write poems referring to AIDS. Jane Kenyon's The Sick Wife poignantly describes a woman lost , still young, to some illness that keep her alive but barely sensate. In its own simple, direct way it connects to the final song, in which Penn reflects on the Bible. "For Death is no more than the Turning of us over from Time to Eternity". Whatever the Evidence of Things Not Seen may be, following the journey in a performance as good as this is a moving experienece.
The Prince Consort was represented tonight by its founder, the pianist Alisdair Hogarth, and the singers Anna Leese, Jennifer Johnston, Nicholas Mulroy and Jacques Imbrailo (a former Jette Parker artist) Perhaps the sparse audience showed that people are scared off by the idea of an "unknown" modern American composer. Too bad, it's their loss. This was excellent music in excellent performance and really deserved better exposure. Public booking for the Wigmore Hall concert in January starts next week - don't miss the next chance to hear these songs again.
Monday, 27 July 2009
Susan Graham French Songs Proms 2009
If Renee Fleming's voice is "creamy", Susan's Graham would be pure golden honey, scented with summer blossom. Graham sings with personality and wit, making her songs come alive with personal feeling. Like William Christie and others, she's American but France is her artistic home. She understands the clarity of French song, and adds robust warmth and spirit. Had Ravel, Debussy and Poulenc lived to hear this voice! Her recordings of Charles Ives and Ned Rorem show that her style works for American song, too. But she's almost without par in French chanson.
So this chamber Prom at Cadogan Hall had song fans drooling with delight. Most of the audience know her masterpieces, like the amazing Reynaldo Hahn songs, and Berlioz, Massenet and Bizet, so she chose a good mix of other French song composers for variety.
There were great favorites, like Le Paon, from Ravel's Histoires naturelles, animated by Graham's exuberant good humour. A peacock gets jilted by his bride, but he's really more interested in flashing his plumage. When he sings, it's a hideous squawk! Ravel sends up the pompous fool, Graham softens the satire with charm.
Less famous, but much loved, Emmanuel Chabrier's Les cigales. "Les cigales, les cigalons chantent mieux que des violins!" But do they? Malcolm Martineau played the jerky, jumpy piano part with such charm, you really could feel the buzz in the cicada chorus. It was great, too, to hear Caplet, Roussel and Honneger's miniatures.
Two Susan Graham specialities, which no one does quite like she can. Manuel Rosenthal's La souris de l'Angleterre comes from a set of 12, the Chansons de Monsieur Bleu. Some of them sit a little too low for soprano, but they're a wonderful group and should be programmed more often. I've heard Graham bring down the house at the Wigmore Hall with Poulenc's La dame de Monte-Carlo, swaying her hips and prancing with a feather boa. I laughed so much, I had tears in my eyes. Graham is a natural actress, which makes her formidable in opera.
But Graham in a pensive mood is even more beautiful. For an encore she sang Reynaldo Hahn's exquisite A Chloris. Graham brought Hahn into the mainstream. Her recording, with Roger Vignoles, is the benchmark. At this Prom, she was freer and lighter than on the CD. Listen to the clip below. It also links to a version by the dishy Phillippe Jaroussky who makes the song sound gloriously baroque but Hahn, who died in 1947, was only playing at being baroque.
So this chamber Prom at Cadogan Hall had song fans drooling with delight. Most of the audience know her masterpieces, like the amazing Reynaldo Hahn songs, and Berlioz, Massenet and Bizet, so she chose a good mix of other French song composers for variety.
There were great favorites, like Le Paon, from Ravel's Histoires naturelles, animated by Graham's exuberant good humour. A peacock gets jilted by his bride, but he's really more interested in flashing his plumage. When he sings, it's a hideous squawk! Ravel sends up the pompous fool, Graham softens the satire with charm.
Less famous, but much loved, Emmanuel Chabrier's Les cigales. "Les cigales, les cigalons chantent mieux que des violins!" But do they? Malcolm Martineau played the jerky, jumpy piano part with such charm, you really could feel the buzz in the cicada chorus. It was great, too, to hear Caplet, Roussel and Honneger's miniatures.
Two Susan Graham specialities, which no one does quite like she can. Manuel Rosenthal's La souris de l'Angleterre comes from a set of 12, the Chansons de Monsieur Bleu. Some of them sit a little too low for soprano, but they're a wonderful group and should be programmed more often. I've heard Graham bring down the house at the Wigmore Hall with Poulenc's La dame de Monte-Carlo, swaying her hips and prancing with a feather boa. I laughed so much, I had tears in my eyes. Graham is a natural actress, which makes her formidable in opera.
But Graham in a pensive mood is even more beautiful. For an encore she sang Reynaldo Hahn's exquisite A Chloris. Graham brought Hahn into the mainstream. Her recording, with Roger Vignoles, is the benchmark. At this Prom, she was freer and lighter than on the CD. Listen to the clip below. It also links to a version by the dishy Phillippe Jaroussky who makes the song sound gloriously baroque but Hahn, who died in 1947, was only playing at being baroque.
Wednesday, 8 July 2009
Another Rusalka - Nixe Binsenfuss
Rusalkas exist in Germany too. Nixe Binsenfuß is a poem by Eduard Mörike, set by Hugo Wolf. Mörike's Nixe is a feisty creature. In the middle of a frozen winter night, she's out in the moonlight tending her fish. Note, she's looking after them not hunting them down like fishermen do. They are safe in a casket of Bohemian crystal (ie under thick ice). Arpeggiatos lilt, evoking the sharp frost, the moonlight, the Nixe's light, deft steps.
This Nixe is untamed and untameable. "Komm mir mit deinen Netzen !" she cries to the fisherman, "die will ich schön zerfetzen!" (Come at me with your nets ! But I'll rip them to shreds !". He's just a humble fisherman but he does violence to Nature. His domesticity is an affront to the elemental Nixe, who exists beyond time and boundaries. Nonetheless, being an earth spirit, the Nixe is a nurturer.
Much as she dislikes the fisherman, she feels sorry for his daughter, who is fromm und gut (gentle, good natured, worthy) who wants to marry a nice young hunter (doesn't kill fish). So the Nixe hangs a Hochzeitsstrauß (a wedding wreath) on the house and einen Hecht, von Silber schwer, er stammt von König Artus her, (an icon of a pike in solid silver, that came from the time of King Arthur). "ein Zwergen Goldschmids Meisterstück,
wer's hat, dem bringt es eitel Glück:
er läßt sich schuppen Jahr für Jahr,
da sind's fünfhundert Gröschlein baar."
a masterpiece fashioned by a dwarf (fairy) goldsmith, which has miraculous powers. Year after year it will yield 500 little Groschen, like the scales of a fish. Supernatural magic, possibly not even visible to mortal eyes, but a powerful symbol of protection and good fortune. The maiden may not know but the magic still works. The Nixe is like a secret guardian, who must disappear at cockcrow with the morning dew, but she'll always be present in spirit. Ade, mein Kind! Ade für heut! (Adieu, my child - for today) Like the magic, the piano part wafts mysteriously into the ether.
See the full text HERE Emily Erzust's Lied and Art Song Text site is an essential source, quick link to it here on this blog on the list at right. Click on the photo to enlarge the detail. See the Nixe's alternative world under the waters.
Monday, 29 June 2009
Hugues Cuénod, 107
Please note, I'll be doing LOTS more about Cuénod in 2010 including a few exclusives you won't find anywhere else !!!!!!! So please bookmark this site, subscribe and keep coming back. HERE is the latest post. Celebrate Hugues Cuénod who turned 107 on 26th June. Read the interesting blog (in French) Comme Il vous plaira. by Charles Sigel. To read the post click HERE
It's lovely, scroll down by one message to get to the Letter to Hugues Cuénod. Cuénod knew everyone in French (and other) music circles, often close enough to tutoyer.
Here is a clip of a recording made in 1937. The pianist is Nadia Boulanger. The recording was possibly made in the home of the Princesse de Polignac. It's like listening in on another, private world. The princess, who was an heiress of the man who invented sewing machines, was a great patron of the arts. She held soirees in her palace, attended by the likes of Poulenc, Ravel, Stravinsky, and many others, where many premieres were played sometimes dedicated by one of the group to another. These were private, so most were not recorded, so what survives is precious.
How fresh and young Cuénod sounds. No wonder he was still singing into his mid 80's. The other singer is Paul Derenne, also a tenor. I don't know who plays the violin as I thought the princess was a pianist.
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
Unusual and loving tribute to Elly Ameling
Elly Ameling lights up everything she sings. It's not simply the purity of her voice, which is exceptionally sweet and beautiful. She communicates much more: warmth of personality, intelligence, charm and, above all, the sense that she loves singing and wants to share her enthusiasm. Although she's one of the greatest singers, she has never sold out to the commercial circus. Even though her voice is ideally suited to Mozart, Handel, Strauss, she chose not to do the big opera circuit and chase the spoilt diva market that sometimes follows. She's maintained her integrity and dignity, and that personal, intimate touch that's so much part of her charm.
That's why I treasure this CD set, Elly Ameling 75 Jaar : Live concertopnamen 1957-1991, Nederlandse Omroep, a 5 CD set available on application from amazon (though for some reason not amazon.uk) It's also available I think at the Concertgebouw and in shops in Holland. You might have to track it down, but I'm glad I did because it's a good alternative to the other box set on the market, "The Artistry of Elly Ameling" released by Philips. The Philips set has Bach, Handel, Haydn, Vivaldi, Hugo Wolf and for fun, Cole Porter. Some of these tracks Elly's fans will already know from the original issues.
This Live Concertoprnamen set is far more distinctive because it's a carefully chosen selection of live recordings from concert performances 1957-1991, most of which are not commercially available. It's rewarding to listen to, because it's more personal, more intimate. A beautiful portrait of a much loved singer and personality!
CD1 comprises opera performances – Bizet and Gounod from a 1966 performance conducted by Bernard Haitink, arias from Idomeneo, Cosi and Le Nozze di Figaro and a lesser known delight, a recitative and aria from Louis-Aimé Maillart's Les Dragons de Villars.
On CD 2 we hear a very fresh performance of Strauss's Vier Letzte Lieder (conducted by Sawallisch, 1983), a selection of Strauss with Rudolf Jansen or Dalton Baldwin at the piano, and Alban Berg's Der Wein (cond Leinsdorf). This latter doesn't get the high profile it's due and some singers overdo it, but Ameling is fine and clear.
More Rudolf Jansen on the next CD, songs by Duparc, Debussy and Ravel. The highlight though is Fauré's La bonne chausson, flowing beautifully. Ed Spanjaard conducts a few songs too, which I liked since I mainly know his work in new music. Jansen and Ameling have been partners for years, so it's good to hear more of them together later in the set – arias from Tosti and Rossini, Mussorgsky songs and Stravinsky's Pastorale.
Still more surprises to come – Elly Ameling sings Luigi Dallapiccola! Sex Carmina Alcaei are well suited to Ameling's gentle spirit. She sings Carlos Guastavino, too, the Argentine composer (d 2000) enjoying a new vogue in recent years, thanks to singers like Carole Farley who has raised the profile of South American song in the US and Europe. Here's Ameling singing La rosa y el source in 1981, a little less "Spanish" but lovely. On this same disc, Ameling sings Constantin Huyghens (1596-1687) and a Victorian song in English – she certainly has range!
Louis Andriessen is Holland's greatest living composer, but his father, brother and sister were/are also important figures in Dutch music circles. This is an opportunity to hear Hendrik Andriessen's Magna res est amor and Fiat Domine (cond Haitink) and a devotional work for voice and organ, Miroir de Peine. Father and son write completely different music, but both have strong convictions. Albert de Klerk accompanies Ameling on Miroir de Peine. I don't know where the organ is but it's very low toned and resonant, so Ameling's voice floats lyrically above. She sounds very young and angelic. Then you see it's made in 1958. It's like being transported back in time to a simpler world.
Since we don't hear much of Dutch composers. it's interesting to hear a CD in this set devoted to Bertus van Lier (1906-72) and Robert Heppener (b 1925). The former is represented by an opera, The Song of Songs, where Ameling sings Shulamite. However, the real discovery here is Heppener's Cantico delle Creature di San Francisco d'Assisi (1952). This is very good indeed, in fact the highlight of the whole set. If you like Hans Werner Henze's Italian works, you'll love this. It was written in 1952, before Henze settled in Italy, so there's no connection, though it stands comparison, which is praise indeed. It's about ten minutes, the voice accompanied by string orchestra, particularly lustrous writing where the high strings shine and the low strings add richness. Ameling's in her prime on this 1977 recording, so beautiful that the set's worth getting for this alone.
This set is a labour of love, compiled by those who know Elly Ameling and understand what makes her so good. A lot of work must have gone into tracking down these pieces, many of them radio broadcasts, and getting permissions. There are also wonderful photos, like Ameling with her dogs, and one where she grins, holding a T shirt that says "Happiness is Singing". That sums up the spirit of this set, and why I enjoy it so much. It's sincere, personal and very warm hearted. This is a lovely tribute, so track it down if you can.
Thursday, 5 March 2009
Gloomy Sunday song with a curse
There are many legends about this song, "Gloomy Sunday". It's supposed to have mysteriously come off the piano as the young composer, Rezső Seress, was gloomily tinkering away. The story goes that it caused masses of suicides and was banned for public safety. The composer did kill himself, but not for another 36 years.
Look at the original lyrics, written by László Jávor. They are grim. I've not been able to find out about Jávor, but Seress lost his family in the Holocaust. Surviving that must have been a kind of hell.
"It is autumn and the leaves are falling
All love has died on earth
The wind is weeping with sorrowful tears
My heart will never hope for a new spring again
My tears and my sorrows are all in vain
People are heartless, greedy and wicked...
Love has died!
The world has come to its end, hope has ceased to have a meaning
Cities are being wiped out, shrapnel is making music
Meadows are coloured red with human blood
There are dead people on the streets everywhere
I will say another quiet prayer:
People are sinners, Lord, they make mistakes..."
The world has ended!
The legend of the curse comes about because the popular English translations sanitize the text, turning it into a tale of thwarted love. "Little white flowers will never awaken me" huh ? Yet the song is haunting enough to survive sentimental censorship, and has become a cult classic. How frustrating it must have been for the Seress and especially Jávor whose good work was completely sidelined. But dumbed down is where the money is.
Monday, 16 February 2009
George Benjamin Into the Little Hill
The big news about the long-awaited London premiere of George Benjamin's Into the Little Hill was that it wasn't. A power cut minutes into the performance and that was it. Read about it on boulezian and intermezzo's blogs (follow link at right). Intermezzo has pix!
Since many people don't live within taxi distance, the "solution"to the power cut was pretty unfair. Lots of people are out of pocket and not just for tickets. Next time let's hope they do the right thing and offer refunds. There must be insurance for these things.
Luckily, I had cancelled my tickets for the first night and caught the whole show on the second night. For a change I hit the jackpot. This was a wonderful performance with Benjamin himself conducting the London Sinfonietta. Claire Booth and Susan Bickley, often raved here on this blog, sang the vocal parts. This is a new production by The Opera Group. Follow the link below to read more about them and the background to the opera. Their site has photos, video and audio clips - recommended!
Into the Little Hill reminds me of many things - the cartoon/novel Maus, even Michael Jackson's truly creepy song "Ben", where the disturbed kid makes friends with a rat. The story is desolate. A man appears in a little girl's bedroom. He has no face...no nose...no eyes. Yet the father does a deal with the sinister stranger and swears on the little girl's life. Seriously sick. The whole opera pivots on ideas of dissimulation, concealment, crawling into dark recesses, nothing is safe from being gnawed away.
This production seems, from pictures, to be more atmospheric than the French one. A circle of black gauze screens orchestra from singers. That's very well thought through, for even the music here is cloaked in disguise. You hear something eerie, or harps or bells. Sure enough, look behind the screens afterwards and there's a cimbalom right in the heart of the orchestra. You hear something tense, tinny and shrill : it's a banjo, and conventional strings being played like banjos, strings plucked high up the shaft, not bowed. Much emphasis is on low toned instruments like bass flute and bass clarinet, whose sensuous, seductive themes weave through the piece like a narcotic night blooming flower. At one point it sure feels like there's a sound so high pitched that the human ear can't quite hear it : but rats can hear at higher frequencies than we can....
Benjamin's writing for voice is a revelation. Unlike Thomas Adès, he doesn't force voices into painful contortion. While the lines are extremely challenging, they flow naturally, almost as speech even when they range up and down octaves. Part of this may be the texts themselves, written thoughtfully, like haiku, allowing the listener's thoughts to form. "The hum of a refrigerator in summer" sings the mezzo, and you know what she means and why it's relevant. Bickley and Booth don't sing "roles" and often their lines are reported speech, echoes perhaps of the ancient tradition of story telling. But there's no mistaking the modernity of this truly disturbing, ambiguous piece. It has a force of its own, which I suspect, even Benjamin and his librettist, Martin Crimp, have channelled as opposed to having consciously written.
What a brilliant idea, too, to pair Into the Little Hill with Harrison Birtwistle's At the Greenwood Side, from 1969. The whole Punch and Judy ethos gives me the creeps, whatever its artistic validity, because it is sick and unhealthy. Perhaps that's the point Birtwistle is making. The mummers and their play are frauds, utterly sordid. You can almost smell their stench in this production. But there's a thin line between ironic comment and the celebration of sickness. At least At the Greenwood Side is concise and gets to the point without too much fuss. And Booth's bag lady murderess is so clearly nuts, she's sad, not vicious, unlike the male characters. Nice touch, too, that the London Sinfonietta are dressed in white tie, which for them is "costume". This distances them from the drunken tramps the actors portray. Pity though that the piece is more speech than music. But then is Birtwistle implying that the barbarians have breached the gate ? This piece feels like graffiti in the meanest sense, smeared on art. Good performance and production though. Perhaps that's why it's so effective (and upsetting).
Here's The Opera Group's link, with photos, video clips and audio samples:
http://www.theoperagroup.co.uk/productions/more/into_the_little_hill_down_by_the_greenwood_side/
Since many people don't live within taxi distance, the "solution"to the power cut was pretty unfair. Lots of people are out of pocket and not just for tickets. Next time let's hope they do the right thing and offer refunds. There must be insurance for these things.
Luckily, I had cancelled my tickets for the first night and caught the whole show on the second night. For a change I hit the jackpot. This was a wonderful performance with Benjamin himself conducting the London Sinfonietta. Claire Booth and Susan Bickley, often raved here on this blog, sang the vocal parts. This is a new production by The Opera Group. Follow the link below to read more about them and the background to the opera. Their site has photos, video and audio clips - recommended!
Into the Little Hill reminds me of many things - the cartoon/novel Maus, even Michael Jackson's truly creepy song "Ben", where the disturbed kid makes friends with a rat. The story is desolate. A man appears in a little girl's bedroom. He has no face...no nose...no eyes. Yet the father does a deal with the sinister stranger and swears on the little girl's life. Seriously sick. The whole opera pivots on ideas of dissimulation, concealment, crawling into dark recesses, nothing is safe from being gnawed away.
This production seems, from pictures, to be more atmospheric than the French one. A circle of black gauze screens orchestra from singers. That's very well thought through, for even the music here is cloaked in disguise. You hear something eerie, or harps or bells. Sure enough, look behind the screens afterwards and there's a cimbalom right in the heart of the orchestra. You hear something tense, tinny and shrill : it's a banjo, and conventional strings being played like banjos, strings plucked high up the shaft, not bowed. Much emphasis is on low toned instruments like bass flute and bass clarinet, whose sensuous, seductive themes weave through the piece like a narcotic night blooming flower. At one point it sure feels like there's a sound so high pitched that the human ear can't quite hear it : but rats can hear at higher frequencies than we can....
Benjamin's writing for voice is a revelation. Unlike Thomas Adès, he doesn't force voices into painful contortion. While the lines are extremely challenging, they flow naturally, almost as speech even when they range up and down octaves. Part of this may be the texts themselves, written thoughtfully, like haiku, allowing the listener's thoughts to form. "The hum of a refrigerator in summer" sings the mezzo, and you know what she means and why it's relevant. Bickley and Booth don't sing "roles" and often their lines are reported speech, echoes perhaps of the ancient tradition of story telling. But there's no mistaking the modernity of this truly disturbing, ambiguous piece. It has a force of its own, which I suspect, even Benjamin and his librettist, Martin Crimp, have channelled as opposed to having consciously written.
What a brilliant idea, too, to pair Into the Little Hill with Harrison Birtwistle's At the Greenwood Side, from 1969. The whole Punch and Judy ethos gives me the creeps, whatever its artistic validity, because it is sick and unhealthy. Perhaps that's the point Birtwistle is making. The mummers and their play are frauds, utterly sordid. You can almost smell their stench in this production. But there's a thin line between ironic comment and the celebration of sickness. At least At the Greenwood Side is concise and gets to the point without too much fuss. And Booth's bag lady murderess is so clearly nuts, she's sad, not vicious, unlike the male characters. Nice touch, too, that the London Sinfonietta are dressed in white tie, which for them is "costume". This distances them from the drunken tramps the actors portray. Pity though that the piece is more speech than music. But then is Birtwistle implying that the barbarians have breached the gate ? This piece feels like graffiti in the meanest sense, smeared on art. Good performance and production though. Perhaps that's why it's so effective (and upsetting).
Here's The Opera Group's link, with photos, video clips and audio samples:
http://www.theoperagroup.co.uk/productions/more/into_the_little_hill_down_by_the_greenwood_side/
Friday, 13 February 2009
Yi-kwei Sze Chinese Lieder song
Shanghai born bass baritone Yi-kwei Sze (1915-1994) is famous in the west because he moved to the US in 1947. He was highly acclaimed. Some of his recordings are still available, more should be. Tcherepnin wrote his op 95 for him, Seven Chinese Folksongs. No longer in print, but there's a copy in the New York Public Library (Music).
The song above, though is "How can I forget her?", written by Zhao Yuanren, (1892-1982), a scholar and linguist who developed a system for romanizing Chinese characters. The poem is by another linguist Liu Ban-nung, his friend. Composer, poet and singer were all exiles, as most people were in those war torn decades from 1931 onwards. The Sensucht the song expresses, though, applies on many levels. The song has become a classic, so firmly embedded in Chinese culture that many people don't realize it was art song. Part of the reason Chinese composers and poets get relatively forgotten is that their art has become absorbed in everyday culture.The second video clip shows a soprano version, taken from a movie in the 1950's. In the West, art song and popular song are separate. In China, however, even though western classical tradition started to take hold from the late 19th century, there was less division. Film, above all else, was the art form par excellence of modern China, an extremely important means by which ideas spread. Indeed, film helped unify the country in the face of war and hardship.
Please see the Yi kwei sze website HERE for more information.
Here's a translation. Note that in Chinese "he" and "she" are the same word.
In the sky, floating clouds;
On the earth, a gentle breeze.
The cool air blowing through my hair;
How can I not think of her?
The moon in love with the sea;
The sea in love with the moon.
Ah, on this sweet, silvery night
How can I not think of her?
Blossoms drifting on the water;
Fishes sporting in the stream,
Swallow, what is that you're saying?
How could I not think of her?
Bare trees shivering in the wind;
Wildfire aflame in the evening glow.
The sun still colouring the western sky;
How could I not think of her?
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Lincoln and Darwin birthdays
Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin share Feb 12 as a birthday. Lincoln of course was a giant among men in every way. Here he is with ex slave and campaigner, Sojourner Truth. Apparently Darwin's family were abolitionists, too.
Walt Whitman's poem on Lincoln's death was set by Paul Hindemith when Roosevelt passed away. Horribly difficult lines to set.
"When lilacs last in the door yard bloom'd,
And the great star early drop'd
in the western sky at night,
I mourn'd - and yet shall mourn
with ever-returning spring".
Offhand I can't think of any songs that commemorate Darwin. But John Updike's worth remembering, too. Brian Holmes's Science Songs are based on Updike's poems. These songs are becoming quite a cult on the song circuit as they are lively, witty and fun to sing. Great in recital. Brian is a physicist and brass player, all round interesting person. To hear clips of his Science Songs, follow this link about halfway down the page:
http://www.publicradio.org/columns/performancetoday/fredlines/
Walt Whitman's poem on Lincoln's death was set by Paul Hindemith when Roosevelt passed away. Horribly difficult lines to set.
"When lilacs last in the door yard bloom'd,
And the great star early drop'd
in the western sky at night,
I mourn'd - and yet shall mourn
with ever-returning spring".
Offhand I can't think of any songs that commemorate Darwin. But John Updike's worth remembering, too. Brian Holmes's Science Songs are based on Updike's poems. These songs are becoming quite a cult on the song circuit as they are lively, witty and fun to sing. Great in recital. Brian is a physicist and brass player, all round interesting person. To hear clips of his Science Songs, follow this link about halfway down the page:
http://www.publicradio.org/columns/performancetoday/fredlines/
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Tristan Murail …amaris et dulcibus aquis…
…amaris et dulcibus aquis… takes as its starting point the “Medieval Michelin”, as Murail calls it, the travel guide for pilgrims crossing northern
Thus …amaris et dulcibus aquis… encapsulates many ideas central to Murail’s work. Technically the vocal parts are not “that” difficult, though at times they veer towards overtone singing. The vowels curl o a i u er as if the piece was haunted by Stockhausen’s Stimmung. Two synthesizers extend the tones.
http://www.tristanmurail.com/en/oeuvre-fiche.php?cotage=27535
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Goerne Mahler Kindertotenlieder
Matthias Goerne has a special affinity for Mahler. Though he’s rarely recorded the composer’s work, he has such penetrating insight into the music that there are many treasured bootlegs in circulation. A friend, a Mahler specialist from the 1950’s, listened a lot to a Goerne version of Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen. It gave her strength and inspiration. It was played at her funeral.
Goerne’s singing was superb, capturing the sense of elegiac dignity. This matters, for the songs are more than just another group of Lieder: as a cycle, Kindertotenlieder is a prototype symphony, written so it works as a unified whole. Mahler chose poems which contrast images of light and shade, which recur repeatedly throughout his entire oeuvre, from the Second Symphony to the Tenth.
The texts are interesting, because they're psychologically so perceptive. The horror of what has happened numbs the poet so much that he cannot face it head on. “Nun will die Sonn’ so hell aufgehn” he says, “als sei kein Unglück die Nacht gesehen”. The sun rises, as always, as if the tragedy of the night had never come to pass. No need for histrionics on the singer’s part. He’s in denial, trying to relate the collapse of his inner world to the landscape around him.
The second song, too, is oblique. The vocal writing is soft, almost too high for a bass baritone to negotiate but that’s the whole point. Goerne delivers these ostensibly gentle lines with a sense of wonder, for already the protagonist is seeking somehow to make sense of what’s going on. The poet juxtaposes the intimate with the universal. Memories of shining eyes will become like stars, which shine on in eternity.
The third song is like a central movement in a symphony. For a moment, the poet faces the fact that the children are never coming back. This song wells up magnificently, giving Goerne a chance to unleash that powerful voice at last, before the cycle returns to the minor of numb denial. Are the children really just off on a long walk? Will they come back and bring things back to normal? Goerne brings out the intense pain of maddened hope. But even more impressively, h has this knack of cradling the words, as if by enclosing phrases he might be holding them in an embrace.He doesn’t let the words fly past but seems to hold them fast, treasuring them like the poet treasures his memories. This protagonist is strong, powerfully masculine, so the tenderness and vulnerability Goerne expresses is all the more moving.
Notice how oblique the images are. The poet sees the space above the ground by the mother's skirt, where the children would have been, but they aren't there any more. It's the emptiness that's haunting. So the singer shouldn't flaff about pulling heartstrings. Goerne makes you hear the loss, obliquely. The last thing this father is thinking of is himself and the image he's making on the listener. We should be drawn inwards, into his grief. We're not simply observers.
For a moment, we’re thrown back into the storm. “In diesem Wetter, in diesem Braus” repeats the poet. How could the children be sent out in such weather ? “Ich durfte nichts dazu sagen”. Nothing could have changed fate. Mahler writes turbulent circular figures, evoking extremes of wind, rain and anguish.Yet with Mahler, there’s always a search for resolution. Where the children have now gone transcends death. No longer will they fear the storm for they are forever von Gottes Hand bedecket. Goerne’s protective, gentle phrasing has been pointing the way all along.
After Fischer-Dieskau retired there was a lot of fuss about other singers who didn’t follow DFD’s mould. But any singer with integrity has to perform in his or her own way. Now we have more videos of singers in the past, we can see how they (and even DFD) intuitively expressed themselves through their whole physique as well as voice. Singers like Goerne communicate so much that all else falls by the way. Pity, then, that the orchestra under Neeme Jarvi wasn't on message in quite the same way.
Please read my other posts on Mahler songs and on Kindertotenlieder in particular. The key to understanding performances is to understand the music and its place in the wider scheme of Mahler's music. The final song, In diesem Wetter is crucial, because the storm here is NOT a pictorial representation of a storm. It's a cosmic shattering. The father has just lost two kids in the same night and in the morning he's gutted. So the music starts to clear, rising ever higher and purer til the man visualizes the kids in heaven, as if in "their mother's house". Nearly everything Mahler wrotes is about finding resolution, tansfiguaration, redemption in light and clarity. So beware anyone who thinks the song to be "exciting" or wild and noisy. They don't know their Mahler at all. Read the Proms review HERE.
Sunday, 1 February 2009
Auf Flügeln des Gesanges - alternative Lieder
“On Wings of Song” is one of the most famous songs of all time – so much for the notion that Mendelssohn was “eclipsed”. Yet it’s very different from the Lieder of Schubert, Schumann and Wolf. Romantic Lieder stresses the word painting, using music to extend text. This stems from the Romantic concept of the individual, where personal, subjective truths mattered. The Romantic Age didn’t use the terminology of modern psychology, but explored inner emotions and the unconscious. Mendelssohn’s songs aren’t “classical” or Mozartean” in any sense, but represent an alternative approach to art song.
First, here is the poem as Mendelssohn might have heard it in his mind. Heine is writing about lotus blooms and exotic settings, but he knows full well that his poems will be read by people who know nothing about fabled “Hindustan” (no way this is real India). It’s important to listen to the poem being read aloud, to appreciate the cadences and expressiveness that bring the words to life.
Auf Flügeln des Gesanges,
Herzliebchen, trag ich dich fort,
Fort nach den Fluren des Ganges,
Dort weiß ich den schönsten Ort;
Dort liegt ein rotblühender Garten
Im stillen Mondenschein,
Die Lotosblumen erwarten
Ihr trautes Schwesterlein.
Die Veilchen kichern und kosen,
Und schaun nach den Sternen empor,
Heimlich erzählen die Rosen
Sich duftende Märchen ins Ohr.
Es hüpfen herbei und lauschen
Die frommen, klugen Gazelln,
Und in der Ferne rauschen
Des heil’gen Stromes Well'n.
Dort wollen wir niedersinken
Unter dem Palmenbaum,
Und Liebe und Ruhe trinken,
Und träumen seligen Traum.
For a translation see Emily Erzust’s formidably useful site
http://www.recmusic.org/lieder listed on the right.
Improve your karma, contribute to good causes.
Next, the version for solo piano, played by Vladimir Horowitz no less. The video is by Spadecaller. Then close your eyes and absorb the music in the abstract. Listen to how Mendelssohn expresses the spirit of the poem without using any obvious images. No lotus blooms, no violets. This is perfume in music, abstract, but none the less potent for being elusive. For the poem is elusive, operating on an unspoken level “behind” the words.
Only now come to the piano/song version, and listen holding the memory of poem and piano transcription in mind. This is Lotte Lehmann singing for US radio in 1941. Hear how she puts feeling and emphasis into the words, expressing text and music seamlessly. Mendelssohn’s songs were written to be sung in salons, intimate settings. Perhaps the singer was wooing the pianist, or someone listening, silently, in the room. Intent is there, but veiled in secrecy. “On the wings of song”, sings the lover, “I’ll carry you away, where I know a beautiful place”. The banks of this Ganges exist only in dreams. Like Heine’s poem, Mendelssohn’s song operates on different levels.
First, here is the poem as Mendelssohn might have heard it in his mind. Heine is writing about lotus blooms and exotic settings, but he knows full well that his poems will be read by people who know nothing about fabled “Hindustan” (no way this is real India). It’s important to listen to the poem being read aloud, to appreciate the cadences and expressiveness that bring the words to life.
Auf Flügeln des Gesanges,
Herzliebchen, trag ich dich fort,
Fort nach den Fluren des Ganges,
Dort weiß ich den schönsten Ort;
Dort liegt ein rotblühender Garten
Im stillen Mondenschein,
Die Lotosblumen erwarten
Ihr trautes Schwesterlein.
Die Veilchen kichern und kosen,
Und schaun nach den Sternen empor,
Heimlich erzählen die Rosen
Sich duftende Märchen ins Ohr.
Es hüpfen herbei und lauschen
Die frommen, klugen Gazelln,
Und in der Ferne rauschen
Des heil’gen Stromes Well'n.
Dort wollen wir niedersinken
Unter dem Palmenbaum,
Und Liebe und Ruhe trinken,
Und träumen seligen Traum.
For a translation see Emily Erzust’s formidably useful site
http://www.recmusic.org/lieder listed on the right.
Improve your karma, contribute to good causes.
Next, the version for solo piano, played by Vladimir Horowitz no less. The video is by Spadecaller. Then close your eyes and absorb the music in the abstract. Listen to how Mendelssohn expresses the spirit of the poem without using any obvious images. No lotus blooms, no violets. This is perfume in music, abstract, but none the less potent for being elusive. For the poem is elusive, operating on an unspoken level “behind” the words.
Only now come to the piano/song version, and listen holding the memory of poem and piano transcription in mind. This is Lotte Lehmann singing for US radio in 1941. Hear how she puts feeling and emphasis into the words, expressing text and music seamlessly. Mendelssohn’s songs were written to be sung in salons, intimate settings. Perhaps the singer was wooing the pianist, or someone listening, silently, in the room. Intent is there, but veiled in secrecy. “On the wings of song”, sings the lover, “I’ll carry you away, where I know a beautiful place”. The banks of this Ganges exist only in dreams. Like Heine’s poem, Mendelssohn’s song operates on different levels.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)