Here's a handy link to the Royal Opera House HD screenings, live and recorded. Tomorrow, Don Quixote and on 4th November, Verdi
Les Vêpres siciliennes which premieres Thursday. Use the search box on the web page to find out what's on where in 1000+ cinemas all round the world.
Tuesday, 15 October 2013
Sunday, 13 October 2013
Britten War Requiem Jurowski Bostridge Goerne LPO
Britten's War Requiem is now played so often that it's become the very kind of warhorse Britten did not want it to become. It's often performed in churches because it was written for Coventry Cathedral,. But few remember that the Cathedral was completely built anew, a statement of faith in modernity and the power of change. The War Requiem references the past, but celebrates new beginnings. Far too often, it's performed as a soothing act of public piety, instead of challenging complacency. How can we, who have known the Holocaust, Hiroshima, Stalingrad, Dresden, Nanjing and the endless wars of attrition in the Middle East, find meaning in a piece which refers to the Western Front in the First World War and the Latin Mass? By treating Britten's War Requiem as music, as opposed to reverential ritual, Jurowski and his soloists restore it to a drama of human conflict and surreal transformation.
As with his Peter Grimes (reviewed here) Jurowski's approach focuses on the intrinsic musical form, free from received performance practice. The very structure suggests fragmentation, which Jurowski wisely doesn't smooth over. An unusual chamber orchestra, with two harps, emerges from a more conventional full orchestra and choir. The brass in the Dies Irae sounded military rather than heavenly, matching the tense march rhythms in the chorus. An explosive, violent atmosphere, for war is neither romantic nor patriotic. "Bugles sang, saddening the evening air", sang Goerne, dark tones supported by horn, lit up by solo flute. The tenor/baritone passage felt like a joust - short, sharp thrusts, parried swiftly. Brief choral respite before "Great gun towering toward Heaven" Goerne sang."May God curse thee, and cut thee from our soul!". No solace here. When Bostridge sang "Move him into the sun", he created an eerie atmosphere, suggesting the strange, unsteady light and stillness that can descend over battlefields when tumult subsides. Far more perceptive than pure sweetness of timbre. "Was it for this the clay grew tall"?
The "Abraham and Isaac" passage in the Offertorium was superbly surreal. One minute, we're in a battlefield and now witness Abraham in biblical times slaying his son and "half the seed of Europe, one by one." Then suddenly, we're transferred to the Sanctus and its ringing bells, suggesting a holy point in the Mass. The soprano, Evelina Dobraceva, substituting for Tatiana Monogarova, sang with great purity. But what sort of "Hosanna" is this? Tiny, tense figures in the orchestra, suggesting unease. Pounding timpani. Goerne sang powerfully, but with restraint and clarity "Mine ancient scars shall not be glorified, nor my titanic tears, the sea, be dried". The baritone part is traditionally taken by a German, for extra-musical reasons, but I think it also works because the singer's accent emphasizes the universal timelessness of the piece. Latin, furthermore, is a language everyone can connect to but no-one really knows how it's pronounced, nor ever will.
From this arises the Agnus Dei. Bostridge sang with truly incandescant intensity. This is no conventional "Lamb who takest away the sins of the world"..The text is Wilfred Owen, who gave up the church. Bostridge held the high, final "Dona nobis pacem" so it seemed to float off into the ether, suggesting cosmic mysteries we can intuit but not completely comprehend.
Swirling dissonance in Libera Me, cross-currents in the choruses well articulated. "Tremens factus sum ego" sang Dobraceva, her voice rising to near-scream. The orchestra seemed to explode, cymbals crashed, and a wall of wild, waving sound engulfed the auditorium. Then Bostridge with minimal accompaniment. "...no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan". Perhaps we are in some strange no-man's land, or afterlife? Bostridge's instinctive feel for the surreal reached apotheosis. "Strange friend", he sang "Here is no cause to mourn". The depth of Goerne's timbre suggested a voice rising from the grave, or from the depths of the earth. The men were surrounded by the small ensemble, so each subtle detail can be heard clearly: two violins, oboe, two harps, creating a sense of separation from the orchestra and from the world. Owen's Strange Meeting describes enemies meeting on common ground, away from past conflicts, so it's a good reason for using German singers. (Russians and women weren't really in his remit). "I am the enemy you killed, my friend" sang Goerne with gentleness, "I knew you in this dark". No rancour, no bitterness now, but a new dawn of reconciliation.
Please see my review of the new CD Britten War Requiem : Pappano, Bostridge, Hampson, Nebtrenko. Orchestrally and choir wise, Pappano/Accademia Ste Cecilia Rome leaves Jurowski/LPO for dead Bostridge and Goerne, however were outstanding because they fitted so well together and got the surreal, danegrous quality of the texts more instinctively.
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Claire Seymour, author of The Operas of Benjamin Britten, reviews this concert for Opera Today.
Saturday, 12 October 2013
First Shakespeare movie 1899
The first movie based on Shakepeare, 1899. Normally, we see only stills and read contemporary reports, but we don't often get a chance to see "real" acting and body movements. Herbert Beerbohm Tree was the foremost Shakepearean actor of his time and created the mould for Shakespearean staging in the first half of the 20th century. How stylized and formal this acting is! Chances are, Shakespeare himself did things differently, but we'll never know. No movies in Shakespeare's time.
Friday, 11 October 2013
BBC Future : Tony Hall unveils his vision for the BBC
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In realspeak, it amounts to an awareness of new forms of technology. "More than 9 million devices accessed BBC Sport Online on transfer day. 40% of requests to the iPlayer now come from mobile devices – 40%. A couple of years ago the figure was just 6%. We had one and a half million requests for our sitcom Bad Education before the first programme had even been broadcast. What a great opportunity this is. And we’re going to embrace it just as we embraced television, just as we embraced the internet. Just as we created Freeview and the iPlayer. We are going to reinvent what we do, bit by bit, step by step, to serve this new audience."
True : The BBC embraced television very early on and innovations like i-player and international online broadcasts What Tony Hall says is that they're going to expand i-Player to reflect the changing ways people connect to the media. No more "listening to the radio" but accessing content on other devices whenever it suits the listener/viewer. Some shows to go onto i-Player plus even before they go on regular media.
How does this translate for the Arts, especially classical music ? "I want", says Hall, "for BBC Music to be a brand that stands proudly alongside BBC News or BBC Sport." ......"We’ll make sure that the arts don’t disappear into niche channels by bringing more landmark arts shows back to BBC One and also to BBC Two." This IS significant because the arts are part of normal life. Thousands must have followed the BBC Proms simply because they can on TV at prime time. The downside might be that this kind of viewer might expect something populist rather than art for art's sake. But still, there was once a time when audiences accepted upmarket rather than dumbed down. It's scary that kids today, according to another recent report, are less educated than their grandparents.
Hall also announced the launch of The Space, the BBC's joint venture with the Arts Council of England. When this was first launched in July 2012, I hailed its potential. (read more here) "The potential for thespace.org is huge......an umbrella for the arts of all kinds. Strength in numbers, economies of scale. I don't know if thespace is experimental or permanent but it's a good idea. It could be a treasure trove. If the French and Germans can do such things, why can't we?"
The BBC has bigger archives than any other arts institition in the world. If these were made available, it would be like unlocking the biggest gold mine the world has ever seen. A decade ago, the BBC wanted to open its back catalogue. Record companies didn't want the compeition. With links to other bodies like the National Theatre, the British Film Institute and so on, The Space could become the flagship of British arts. The prospects are dazzling. Tony Hall doesn't mention many specifics apart from hinting at new commissions and ventures, but in theory The Space could do for British arts what i-Player has done for the BBC.
The 2012 launch of The Space mwas an unmitigated disaster. First the name, so bland and forgettable that it showed up lower on google than a completely separate arts venue with a similar name. Serious rebranding needed, and a professional marketing strategy. The original Space was created by techno geeks with no insight into the arts whatsoever.. Items were included just because they happened to be available : no broad vision, no basic insight into what's happening in the arts world. Thetre needs to be real vision, and genuine understanding of the arts in their broadest form. A good business principle : getb the product right and the rest will follow.
Part of the reason the original Space failed was because the Arts Council England isn't a visionary organization. There's no vision in the British arts in general. That's why we have disasters like the management of the South Bank, fiddling about with short term sales targets, losing the raison d'être for its very existence. So we're stuck with the piecemeal thinking of a horrifyingly expensive rebuild, pushed through by questionable methods. Please read my Band aid or Surgery? and National Theatre slams South Bank Proposals. If the Arts Council did proper policy planning, we might not be in this situation. For once, I agree with Richard Morrison, who sugeested pulling the South Bank down and starting from scratch.
Where is real leadership - and vision - going to come from ? As continuity announcers used to say "Over to you, BBC".
Thursday, 10 October 2013
Last chance Don Carlo Salzburg Kaufmann
This is so good that there's no chance it won't come out on DVD. catch it now cheaply before it gets pulled in a few days. .
Wednesday, 9 October 2013
Verdi 200 Birthday BBC Radio 3
On Monday (with five days still to listen) Don Carlo from Salzburg with Jonas Kaufmann and Anja Harteros. Although the performance took place only a few weeks ago, it is so good that it's already spoken of as being one of the classics. Read my review of the filmed broadcast.
More Kaufmann and Harteros in Il trovatore from Munich, on Saturday. .Sacrilegious thought : how similar this plot is to Fidelio! But that only goes to show, yet again, that good ideas can transport freely.
Anna Netrebko on Thursday, in Verdi's Giovanna d'Arco, also from Salzburg. This opera is one of my favourites because I like Joan of Arc (and have been doing a series on her various incarnations in music and film). Read more about another performance of Giovanna d'Arco HERE.
Throughout this week, Verdi will fill BBC Radio 3's afternoon slot at 1400, and "Composer of the Week". Also various talks and studies, some more promising than others. The BBC has, in fact, been broadcasting Verdi all year as part of the Verdi 200 series. Nearly every opera and non-operatic work has been or will be broadcast online. The Proms were a bit of an anomaly but also not so surprising when you really think about it. Good Verdi needs to be done very well indeed, and costs money, and good Verdi stagings don't come cheap, and there's a lot more Verdi around than Wagner. Besides, I'm glad that the BBC Proms splashed out to the max with Wagner. It was much more fun than if they'd timidly spread themselves too thin.
Wigmore Hall Schumann Miah Persson Florian Boesch Martineau
Sensucht (WoO 121 1827), written when the composer was 17, is a deceptively simple song, for which Schumann wrote his own text. Heinrich Heine stimulated him to a more sophisticated work, the same year, Gesanges erwachen (1827). Persson's voice was lithe, suggesting youth..
Most of the Wigmore Hall audience know Schumann's songs of 1840, so Martineau and his singers presented a brief selection of Eichendorff,
Kerner and other songs. The Liederkreis op 39 are familiar, but Boesch and Persson made them feel fresh and newly minted. Persson's Frühlingsnacht, her timbre so lustrous that you could almost see moonbeams. Yet even in the midst of beauty, Lieder reflect on deeper mysteries. In Schõne Fremde, the rustling myrtle leaves seem to whsiper secrets. "Was sprichtest du wirr" Boesch sang in hushed tones, "wie in Träumen zu mir, phantjatstiche Nacht?" Boesch's flawless modulation expressed excitement, wonder and even a twinge of fear. In Waldesgespräch, a vision of beauty turns on the beholder. Boesch sang the maiden's song so it felt almost hypnotically plaintive. Thus he didn't have to exaggerate the word "nimmermehr" at the end. Its forceful impact had been building up quietly all along.
There are eight songs in the full Frauenliebe und -leben op 42. but the three chosen here were a succinct summary. Persson's voice fluttered as she sang of the woman's first glimpse of the man she would marry. No coy giddiness here. Persson's singing is so assured that she can suggest that this woman is no mere object of a man's fantasy, as some critics of the cycle believe. Persson makes the woman feel mature and confident, making her own choices. Helft mir, ihr Schwestern came across as a warm-hearted hymn to sisterhood. Hearing the song of widowhood straight after this was very touching.. Just as we've come to know the woman and her happiness, that happiness is snatched away. It's relevant, too, in the context of Robert and Clara's life together.
Boesch sang three songs from Kerner Lieder op 35 and Persson sang two of of the Zwolf Gedichte aus 'Liebesfrühling' op 37 to texts by Friedrich Rückert. Together they sang the duet Herbstlied op 43 no 2,. It's a jolly song: winter poses no threat to those who believe that Spring will come again. Suddenly, the mood changed. Boesch sang Belshazar op 57. What an inspired juxtaposition of two very different songs!
To illustrate Schumann's later years in Dresden (1845-50) and in Düsseldorf (1850-54), Martineau picked songs that highlighted different aspects of Schumann's life. To show Schumann as Pater familias, songs from the Liederalbum für die Jugend Op 79: Boesch sang Schneeglõckchen and Persson sang the Mõrike song Er Ist's. These songs are charming and whimsical, in contrast to the Harper songs from Wilhelm Meisters Lehrejahre Op 98a, written within the same year.
Goethe's Wilhelm Meister songs have been heard at the Wigmore Hall in various incarnations several times this year, (Wolf and Schubert) so it was immensely satisfying to hear Schumann's versions. Boesch started with Wer nie sein Brit mit Tränen Aß, perhaps the bleakest , then sang Wer sich der Einsamkeit vergibt and An den Türen will ich schliechen. His firm, measured pace suggested that the Harper faces his destiny with dogged resolution, far more courageously than if he were to court self pity. Of the current crop of singers in this fach, only Goerne and Boesch create the insight these songs deserve.
Schumann's Goethe songs were interspersed with settings of Lenau and more minor poets, such as Wilfried von Neun (Es stürmet am Abendhimmel, Op 89/1, 1850), Friedrich Halm (Geisternähe) and Christian L'Egru (Aufträge), Ulrich, Kinkle and Pfarrius (from Sechs Gesänge Op 107, 1851). These demonstrate the depth of Schumann's interest in contemporary literature.
The recital concluded with songs written towards the end of Schumann's productive life, Abschied von der Welt and Gebet from Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart Op 135, 1852). In the circumstances, lines like "Was nützt die mir noch zugemess'ne Zeit ?" (What use is the time still allotted me?) feel painfully poignant. We think of Schumann in the asylum, alone, the past behind him.
This review appears in Opera Today
photo of Miah Persson : Credit Mina Artistbilder
Monday, 7 October 2013
Patrice Chéreau - personal memories
There's so much about him on the net that I don't need to write more, but HERE is a link to an article Patrice Chéreau, temps qu’à faire .And even more, A Director genuinely devoted o his art. .
My personal memories of him go back to 1978 when I saw his Lulu, the first staging of the three act version of Berg's opera. I couldn't get my head round the third act then, but now have come to regard it as visionary. (read more about that production here).
Chéreau's Wagner Das Ring des Nibelungen created for Bayreuth, Wolfgang Wagner and Pierre Boulez is the stuff of legend. In 1976, DVD didn't exist, so it was years before we could catch up. What a shock that must have been at the time! No wonder it caused a sensation. It's complete nonsense, as wikipedia says, that modern directors just transpose productions into different times. Wikipedia has been hijacked by trolls. Chéreau's productions worked because they went to the heart of the drama, and were musically sensitive.
He was an actor, too, who understood how things worked from practical experience. In 2008, Daniel Barenboim persuaded him to take part in Stravinsky's L'histoire du soldat at the BBC Proms. Guy Braunstein, no less, played the "fiddle". Boulez was watching from a box, and stood up at the front. Chéreau’s delivery was perfect, pungent and pointed. He was earthy enough to convey the “sense” of the peasant soldier, reinforcing the way Stravinsky writes into this music echoes of a raucous village band. The angular, quirky rhythms turn the steady trudge of footsteps into a bizarre, macabre dance of death. Chéreau is so attuned to the musical logic that his spoken lines take on the same, jerky staccato. These are not verité rhythms of speech., but presenting this in any language other than French spoils the cadences
One of the things I respected about Chéreau was that he did what he believed in rather than just doing things because they were there. He was primarily a man of the theatre, though he understood music and worked with only the best. Pierre Boulez persuaded him to return to opera with him in 2007, when he conducted Janacek's From the House of the Dead. Everyone in the opera world seemed to be in the audience. It was outstanding“totally relevant for our time”, as Chéreau said later in his interview with Pierre Audi. Someone asked why he didn’t make it into a parable about Guantanamo Bay, for instance and he said “No, this is universal - orange jumpsuits would only mute the wider implications”. In an impish aside, Boulez quipped “and orange is the colour of Holland”. It’s a good point, because a single image can often have multiple meanings.
This production was created with perceptive depth, with everything in it designed to amplify meaning. For example, the prisoners are engaged in pointless repetitive work – shipbuilding in Siberia, no less. Instead of a huge construction, which would dominate and distract, Chéreau explodes a bomb out of which cascade streams of waste paper, which the prisoners collect in bags. The explosion coincides with a huge, dramatic climax in the music, and the “gleaning” movements in the repetitive figures. This close integration between music and staging reflects the way Boulez and Chéreau work together. From the outset, Boulez and Chereau were both at rehearsals, so the ideas developed with an understanding of the full orchestral score. Actors were used to explore the body language and dynamic of the characters, so the singers had more to work with when developing their vocal approaches. “Coherence”, said Chéreau, "between ideas, music and drama, is the basis of the interpretation. The eagle, for example, is a critical symbol. It would be easy to go for a “happy ending” with the bird flying free, but it would be simplistic.
ENO Fidelio - much truer to Beethoven than you'd expect
Beethoven thinks as a musician, not as a dramatist.The Singspiel (for Fidelio isn't really an opera) starts with the third and most satisfying of Beethoven's Leonora Overtures. There are many precedents for this, so Bieito isn't doing anything unorthodox. Even the idea of readings from other sources isn't new. In this case, the chosen texts were utterly relevant. This alternative order is good because it establishes background. Leonore is the real hero, even more so than Florestan. Jaquino and Marzellina are secondary characters, more caught up in self-interest than Leonore and Florestan who are prepared to die for what they believe in. Bieito's choice makes Beethoven's glorious, passsionate music central to the whole interpretation and places Leonore at the heart of the drama.
Strange creatures crawl in the darkness. Lighting effects suggest the dripping water in the dungeon. That's no minor detail. The prison walls may seem impregnable, but water is seeping in, gradually undermining the foundations. The "rats" are revealed as prisoners, dehumanized by their situation. When the set for the prison is lit, it hits you in the eye. As it should. Prisons are supposed to be oppressive. The design, by Rebecca Ringst, isn't merely a metaphor for the mind. It looks like a real prison, utilitarian and impersonal, where walkways, bars and maze-like structures serve to keep prisoners constantly under surveillance. (the stills don't really capture reality). Like trapped animals, the prisoners struggle but are helpless. Leonore puts on male clothes and chooses to go in. Beethoven was right. This Overture, and this staging which gives it prominence, places Leonore and her courage right at the heart of the drama.
Leonore is an amazing character, a heroine who could have come out of Greek saga, a Brünnhilde before her time. Although we know from the libretto that Florestan is well connected but dangerous, we don't know much about Leonora except that she's a loyal wife. Thus, perhaps, the piece is called Fidelio rather than "Leonora". She's more concept than woman. Emma Bell, however rises to the challenge, the assertiveness in her voice suggesting Leonore's firm resolve. The staging, however, lets Bell develop the role further. Leonore enters the prison disguised as a man. Mission accomplished, she can become a woman again. Full marks for the Personenregie here. In stilettos and an elegant sapphire dress we can glimpse what Leonore's social position might have been, and appreciate her sacrifice all the more. Bell's voice softens and becomes warm and feminine as she and Florestan (Stuart Skelton) embrace : human beings once again, not prisoners, not abstract concepts.
Perhaps this is the true "ending" of Fidelio, as Bieito suggests. As Skelton sings in this English translation, it doesn't matter if he's a prisoner as long as his ideals are unsullied. Love, and the love of life transcend oppression. Indeed, because Beethoven hated women, except as theoretical models, ideals perhaps mattered more to him than marital love. The maze-like Prison rotates, its "walls" disintegrating in a blaze of light. As theatre, this is extraordinarily powerful. Obviously, Florestan couldn't trek upwards and escape through a vast prison, especially in chains. He's liberated because he's vindicated. a masterstroke of sheer brilliance, Bieito inserts the third movement from Beethoven's late String Quartet op 132., the Heiliger Dankgesang eines Genesenen an die Gottheit (Holy song of thanks from a convalescent to the Divinity). After years in the prison of deafness, Beethoven endured a near death experience, from which he recovered, almost miraculously. Like Florestan. The score is marked "Neue Kraft fühlend" (with renewed strength), which indicates not only performance but meaning. As an illustration of the meaning of Fidelio, it's a flash of inspired perception.
Whatever happens to Florestan, this is the illuminating event of his whole life. The Heath Quartet descend from the roof space, like emissaries from God. They're in "cages" for safety reasons, but the image also reinforces the idea that art can transcend physical restraint. A friend of mine says that String Quartets are an idealized form of human endeavour because the players have to listen to each other or they can't play. That, too, is a message appropriate to Fidelio, and to art in general. The remains of the "prison" structure are lit in tones of gold and green. Barbarity is transformed into beauty. It's a wonderful conjunction of music, visuals and meaning, indescribably moving. Perhaps this is the "true"ending of Fidelio. ratherv than the clumsy farce that follows.
As if by a miracle, Don Fernando materializes and injustice is neatly put to rights. Bieito develops this Deus ex machina contrivance, so it intensifies the meaning of the work as a whole. Dressed as a baroque grandee, complete with powdered wig and face paint, Roland Wood appears in a box above the stage. Of course (in the original) Fernando sings "Tyrannenstrenge sei mir fern." but the very fact that he's sent by the King to save one of many is a form of capricious tyranny. Bieieto also notices the subtle hint in the text "Euch, edle Frau, allein, Euch ziemt es, ganz ihn zu befrein". ("You alone, noble woman, have the right to make him free"). Like Florestan and Leonore, the chorus change back into semi-normal clothes, as if they've recovered their dignity. But their clothes are scuffed. They wear placards, but not all of them marked "free". Justice doesn't happen in the real world. It's pure luck. Beethoven was far too astute politically to swallow the play's ending but what alternative could he visualize in his lifetime? Fidelio is subversive and horribly relevant even today. Perhaps that's why audiences may prefer to hide. Taking conceptual thinking out of Beethoven betrays nearly everything the composer stood for. Bieito restores him to his true glory. Fidelio is shocking, and should shake us out of complacency.
At the ENO in London, we might not get singers of the calibre of Jonas Kaufmann and Anja Kampe, as Bieito had in Munich, but Emma Bell and Stuart Skelton are very good. I was very impressed by Roland Wood's Don Fernando, for he expressed a lot more in the part than a routine reading might suggest. In the ENO Pilgrim's Progress (review here), he wasn't as compelling as Roderick Williams might have been in the part, but he's a singer worth paying attention to. Sarah Tynan was an excellent, clear Marzellina, It's not her fault that the part is little more than a sideshow (or smokescreen) for Leonore herself. James Cresswell sang Rocco, Philip Horst sang Don Pizarro and Adrian Dwyer sang Jaquino. Edward Gardner conducted. The blocking and stage direction (Assistant Director Anna Brunnlechner) was very good indeed. In general, the London production was toned down from Munich, but still very effective.
The trouble is that London audiences (and critics) think in terms of Bieito's notoriety and come primed to scream at what they think he's doing wrong rather than to listen to what he actually does. What an irony! Florestan is imprisoned because people don't want his ideas to be heard.. Beethoven sets the word "Freiheit!" so it's a challenge. Freedom of opinion is freedom from tyranny, whether or not you like the ideas being expressed. That's a point that's lost on some who hate modern stagings on principle. But throughout history, narratives have been reinvented with new perspectives and performances. Where would we be without Greek myth? Those who hate on principle often say that directors should "respect" an opera. But as with most clichés, that can be turned completely on its head. Opera is strong enough to support many interpretations and perspectives. Sadly, more people would be Pizarros than Leonores.
Another Creepy Edward
Coming up soon, posts on ENO Fidelio, Wigmore Hall Schumann (Persson/Boesch) and more on ENO Fledermaus. Watch this space, and come back! But first another version of "Edward" a traditional song of obscure origins that crops up if different times and folk traditions. Ever it was so. Greek myth is retold in myriad forms. Why the modern obsession with preserving things in only one form? A good basic idea grows and takes on new life.
A while back I wrote about Carl Loewe's Creepy Edward, a Lieder version to a poem by Gottfried Herder adapting the legend in German Romantic terms. Then, the same story crops up as "Knoxville Girl" in country music (and later in rock) . So here's a version by Richard Dyer-Bennet who would have been 100 years old today. Dyer-Bennet was English but lived in the US (but not in Knoxville) and sang folk ballads. His "Edward" supposedly resembles the original folk song, though he sings it in such a genteel way. Personally I have a weakness for the psychotic desperado within the twanging slide guitar.
A while back I wrote about Carl Loewe's Creepy Edward, a Lieder version to a poem by Gottfried Herder adapting the legend in German Romantic terms. Then, the same story crops up as "Knoxville Girl" in country music (and later in rock) . So here's a version by Richard Dyer-Bennet who would have been 100 years old today. Dyer-Bennet was English but lived in the US (but not in Knoxville) and sang folk ballads. His "Edward" supposedly resembles the original folk song, though he sings it in such a genteel way. Personally I have a weakness for the psychotic desperado within the twanging slide guitar.
Friday, 4 October 2013
Luminous Mahler 10 Berliner Philharmoniker Harding
New in the Berliner Philharmoniker archive is Saturday's concert, Mahler's Symphony no 10. (Cooke III performing version). Six years ago, Harding made a ground-breaking recording of this symphony with the Wiener Philharmoniker. This performance with the Berliner Philharmoniker is even more stimulating. The Berliners, some of whom have worked with Harding for nearly 20 years, have a different, more muscular sound, supporting an even more intense interpretation.. Read my review of Harding's Mahler 2 at the Proms here)
Mahler's sketches for the Tenth may have been written towards the end of his life, but they represent a new beginning, not an end. As Professor Henri-Louis de la Grange showed in the fourth volume of his monumental biography, Mahler had undergone traumatic changes personally and professionally. Harding's clear, intelligent approach suggests Mahler on the verge of a visionary creative breakthrough.
The Adagio begins with exquisite refinement : gossamer textures float, enhanced by the entry of a deeper, more resonant theme. The horns break away, as if they're leading us further into the mountains, into the realms of Mahler's creative imagination. This performance is tinged with more sadness than the Vienna recording. Finer pianissimo, so when the expansive theme returns, it surges like a heartfelt cry of regret. But, as in the Third Symphony, a panoramic vista opens. There are further, and higher peaks to climb. Flutes and woodwinds whip forwards, like the winds on mountains. The dialogues in this movement are well defined. Perhaps they are a reference to Mahler and Alma, his "ewiger weiblicher" Muse. But what do those chilling “scream” chords”suggest? Harding observes the moments of near silence, hovering on the brink, so to speak, before those cataclysmic chords explode. The line seems to last forever, an almost electronic blast of near dissonance. Gone now are the allusions to summer and open horizons..Now very high flutes and harp suggest the "alpine" mood transformed into other-worldly stillness.
The Berliners are especially good at creating the swaggering Weltlauf in the wild first Scherzo, brutally mocking the refinement of the Adagio. Harding deftly juggled the rapid changes of meter, tempo. Harding brings out the manic energy so it contrasts with the softer, more melodic theme. This time the dichotomy between themes feels dangerous, the throwing down of a creative gauntlet? Small trumpets herald forward progress: the movement ends with glorious, exuberant vigour, tautly defined and energetic.
The Purgatorio is a small movement bridging the first and second scherzos but it's significant in that the duality that runs through the beginning of the symphony changes into a series of individual voices, much as will happen later.
On the title page of the second Scherzo, Mahler writes “The Devil is dancing it with me! Madness, seize me … destroy me! Let me forget that I exist, so that I cease to be.” But a careful observer will note that Mahler then adds “dass ich ver ….” (so that I ….) and trails off without completing the idea. It’s a preposition, but this whole work is a kind of preposition, open ended because it isn't complete. A delicate yet quirky waltz circulates through this movement, in counterpoise to the demonic tensions. Listen to Daishin Hashimoto, the Leader, play a bittersweet melody: a lone voice distinct from the forces around him. Then other voices join him : Jonathan Kelly the Principal Oboe, Andreas Blau, the Principal Flute and Daniele Damiano, Principal Bassoon.
Absolute silence, acutely observed to emphasize the transition to the Finale. This is supposed to depict the funeral march of a fireman, which Mahler and Alma watched from their hotel room in New York. The tempi are slow, even for a funeral. It's more symbolic than literal. Very muffled percussion, as if heard in a dream. Bassoons moan, trumpets and horn cry out. Harding's tempi suggest that sound and time hover suspended in some strange limbo. Uncommonly moving.
Then the orchestra springs to life again, revitalized and reanimated. The "soaring" expansive theme of the Adagio returns, this time firmer and more confident. When it builds to a climax, we can hear an echo of the "scream" chord, again held for what seems like eternity. This time the "scream" is not so much raw anguish as paralyzing numbness. Then the oboe reintroduces the "warm" theme. Perhaps it's meant to suggest balm or transcendence. We don't know, but for me that is part of the fascination. It's much more difficult to play legato finely balanced and as sustained like this, but Harding and the Berliners can do it so well that the music seems to stretch into infinity, dissolving into something so pure and stratospheric that our ears can't hear it. Absolutely true to context.
This is astounding. It might not appeal to those who prefer "easy listening" Mahler or flashy showman conductors, but for me, it's incredibly profound. Harding shows that the sketchy nature of this piece can be an asset, reminding us that we'll never know what Mahler might have done if he'd revised it. The spare, gossamer orchestration reminds us that there are mysteries in life we're never meant to solve.
Thursday, 3 October 2013
Blind String Trio
Wednesday, 2 October 2013
Andris Nelsons Chess Moves
The announcement on the CBSO site is rather more discreet. In August 2012, the CBSO announced the extension of his contract formally through the 2014-2015 season, and then for subsequent seasons on the basis of an annual rolling renewal. So the "rolling renewal" is terminated barely a year after it was announced.
Nelsons says: " I have enjoyed five great seasons with (Birmingham) and, while I look forward to another two in my current role, this difficult decision comes in view of my new position with the Boston Symphony Orchestra alongside my wish to protect precious time with my young family."
For Boston, Nelsons is a coup: no wonder they're over the moon. While other US orchestras are running into problems and losing conductors, Boston has managed to lure the hottest conductor on the circuit, a man seriously tipped for Berlin when Simon Rattle steps down in 2017. But what's in it for Nelsons? European and American orchestral cultures are different in so many ways that it's not simply a matter of switching podiums. Many US conductors would give their best batons for opportunities across the Atlantic. American orchestras tend to think in terms of long tenure and orchestral development. If the BSO had to coast while James Levine divided his time between them and the Met, and his illness, how will they cope with a conductor whose real future lies in the international scene? A conductor like Nelsons isn't going to stay in one place and give up Bayreuth or Berlin, or Salzburg, or Vienna, or wherever. Besides, Nelsons is shaping up as one of the greatest opera conductors on the circuit. Indeed, he was conducting opera from a very early stage in his carer. Whatever Boston might have to offer, it's not quite in the European league. Besides, Boston's a lot futther from Latvia. So what's Nelsons planning long term? What's in his best interests, and in the best interests of music in general?
Romance of the Fruit Pedlar
The fruit pedlar's stall is decoratively arranged. Bunches of bananas hang on hooks, rows of lotus root line the table. The pedlar tries to cut open a watermelon. Then you realize he's new to the job. Real fruit pedlars can wield machetes like surgeons wield scalpels. This pedlar, however, used to be a carpenter, so he measures the melon and tries to cut it with a carpenters saw. Later, he cuts sugar cane with an axe and planes off the outer husk. he's applying the wrong tools for the task.
This is an open air market where the stall holders live in close proximity. Next to the fruit stall is the "Hall of the Ne'er-do-wells" as the vintage intertitles tell us. It's a tea shop (people who sit about and talk, without doing anything useful). Next to that is a quack doctor with a sideline in fortune telling. A passerby has a swelling. "You need an operation!" says the doctor hoping to make enough money to pay his rent. The would be patient offers a vase in payment. "It's a Chien Lung" he says. But no-one would carry a precious vase in this way, it could be broken. In other words, it's not what it seems to be. The image is a huge hint as to what's behind this ostensibly gentle whimsy. What is the "swelling"? What is the illness that needs a cure?
The Pedlar flirts with the doctor's daughter who is as down to earth as her dad is feckless. The girl throws the pedlar the old man's spectacles. While the old man wobbles about blind, the young man has a laugh pretending to be the old guy. He can't see either, the glasses are too thick. The pedlar returns the spectacles and the two men become pals. The ne'er-do-ells have stolen the girls things. "Why don't you look after it properly?" they shout. Anotrher clear (to those who know history) what the movie is really about.
Because the fruit stall is untended, small kids take all the fruit. But the pedlar's good natured and plays with the kids.When the ne'er do wells tease the daughter, the pedlar comes to the rescue and pushes the tea shop owner into his vat of herbal tea. The pedlar and the daughter are in love, but the doctor says he'll marry her off to whoever makes him rich.
Because he's a carpenter by trade, he knows how to fix wooden staircases. So he builds a mechanism that will make the steps slide backwards when he wants them to, so anyone on the steps will slide down. Like the sudden reversals of fortune on the mah jong table, there will be sudden reversals on the staircase. When the big man with the beard stands on the step, down he slides! Meanwhile the crafty pedlar hides behind the steps and readjusts them, ready for the next crowd of revellers. .
Because Chinese film makers were progressives and modernizers, there's almost always a moral and social message. In this film, it's pretty clear that the marketplace is a metaphor for China, where poor folk struggle, while dissolute gamblers carouse and exploit. Hence the giant and the foreign shoes, and the tea shop owner who puts up with the chaos around him. The pedlar represents positive action and change. Those who go up the stairs will fall down. Avarice and discord weaken the body politic. Ordinary men like the pedlar/carpenter can fix things if they use their wits, which are the right tools. What could be more explicit? Behind the delicate charm of this film lies subversion.
Tuesday, 1 October 2013
Bats! Die Fledermaus ENO Johann Strauss
I love Johann Strauss II's Die Fledermaus because it's utterly, barmily bats. The plot's mad. Jolly tunes distract lest you get too sober. Christopher Alden's production at the Coliseum for the ENO captures the operetta's crazy spirit well. It reflects the music's polyglot diversity: Csárdás, waltzes, Hussar marches, Italian opera, can-can and Tyrolean Ländler. Die Fledermaus really shouldn't be played "straight" or literally, because that's not how the music works.
Shadows of bats fly across luxurious satin drapes, and a huge timepiece hangs from the ceiling. Nothing seems to be happening on stage. This is a great opportunity to listen to the music without distraction: Later, we'll hear ticking sounds in the orchestration - watches, clocks or time bombs? But for now, we can indulge in the escapist frou-frou of the Overture. Perhaps we're in an eternal New Year's Eve Gala where time - and reality - stand still? Eun Sun Kim conducts with more energy than effervesence, but that's perfectly valid. There's so much dance in this music that it should feel physical and exuberant.
Gabriel von Eisenstein (Tom Randle) is supposed to be going to jail but goes to a party instead. As if life were so easy! Rodelinda, his wife, (Julia Sporsén) makes much of marital fidelity but keeps her options open. Adele, her maid (Rhian Lois) has ideas above her station. Prince Orlofsky (Jennifer Holloway) provides them with the means to act out their fantasies, He/she is a woman acting as a man. The "Bat" is Dr Falke (Richard Burkhard) luring Eisenstein into a devious trap. Bats are associated with darkness and with the unconscious. Die Fledermaus, for all its airhead frivolity, has dangerous undercurrents,
At Prince Orlofsky's Ball, everyone turns up in disguise. Prison Governor (Andrew Shore) and Prisoner-to-be pretend to be French aristocrats. Behind a mask, Rodelinda von Eisenstein can manipulate the men around her. Excellent costumes (Constance Hoffman) for the ENO chorus, too, suggesting images of decadence and delusion. Set Designs (Allen Moyer) hint obliquely to silent film. This is an erudite touch, since many early movies dealt with dreams and psychological issues. Indeed, Die Fledermaus was filmed as a silent in 1917, directed by Ernst Lubitsch who made several"opera movies" without sound, such as Gypsy Blood (Carmen) (more here).
Good operetta, good conducting and excellent staging. So why did I, to quote Prince Orlofsky, weep at the "chatter and weariness" of these "scenarios of ennui"?
This is a "numbers" operetta, with long sequences of dialogue between the show tunes. Unless the lines are delivered with quickfire wit, they fall flat like stale champagne. The characters became hammy caricatures. Corny accents aren't funny when everyone is doing them. Here, lively farce descended into hammy end-of-pier pantomime. Some singers can sing with magnificent panache. This cast was good by ENO standards, which are not very high, but not good enough to truly animate their roles. It didn't help that Strauss wrote many opportunities for applause, so the audience dutifully clapped on autopilot, further killing dramatic pace. Mindless clapping makes shows drag. Might it be possible to pare the dialogue down to the minimum, even if it meant losing some of the jokes ? But the real problem is that most singers can't do razor-sharp repartee the way good actors can.
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