A jonquil, not a Grecian lad : George Butterworth Roderick Williams

Roderick Williams sings George Butterworth. This new recording, English Song Series 20: Songs From a Shropshire Lad, is the finest ever. It's a landmark, even by his high standards.

It's no secret that I've adored Williams for years, not all that long after he was still appearing with a map of Africa  shaved into his hair. Now he's easily the most important exponent of English Song. Hyperbole, perhaps, but Williams really is special, and one of the greatest specialists in English music. (hear him at 3 choirs).

English song has suffered from extra-musical affectation, smothered by "cowpat". Hence fake bucolic pretentiousness, fey preciousness, ghettoizing the genre. But the best of English song is so good it doesn't need stylistic coating. Roderick Williams's approach is direct, unfussy, revealing the true artistic merits of what he sings.

George Butterworth is one of my great passions, (please see other posts on this site including THIS.) . I've heard many performances, but  this new CD includes  the finest version of Songs From a Shropshire Lad I have ever heard. Listen to the clarity. and vividness. It feels like you're in a one to one conversation. Because Williams's style is unmannered, there are no barriers, it's personal. And what a voice - naturally warm, very secure in the middle register which Butterworth favours.

"A jonquil not a Grecian lad". Often the third song in Butterworth's cycle is overshadowed by more popular songs like The Lads in Their Hundreds, but Williams understand that it isn't necessarily the big, "public" moments that make the cycle, but  the elusive intimacy.  

Look not in my Eyes refers to Narcissus who was so beautiful everyone lusted for him. But his purity was preserved when the Gods turned him into a delicate flower. Butterworth sets the poem with curving sensuousness, but it's the purity that really counts. Williams emphasizes the word "jonquil" simply by respecting the microseconds of silence that set the word apart from the rest of the sentence, colouring the word itself with a reverent sense of wonder. An amazing moment.

Grecian lads die or are corrupted, but flowers bloom again each Spring. AE Housman didn't actually spend much time in Shropshire, and Butterworth was a terse, repressed  Londoner for whom the idea of unspoiled nature meant more than reality. Don't be seduced by verdant trappings. These songs are about a lot more than the countryside. Roderick Williams and his pianist Ian Burnside access the deeper levels in these songs, revealing their true beauty.

Williams doesn't make the opening arc in Loveliest of Trees dominate,  but shows how the arc repeats throughout: "wearing white...for Eastertide". Purity is of the essence. Too much heat makes blossoms wilt before their time.  Williams breathes gently into words, just enough warmth to bring out their fragrance.

The flowers are beautiful, but they're also a metaphor for the passing of time, which hangs over the whole cycle. The lads in their hundreds are partying, but soon will die, as Butterworth did, aged only 30, in battle. The dead farmer talks to his friend who has already taken up with the dead man's girlfriend. When I was one and twenty is a play on youth and age. The poet talks like he's old, but only a year has gone by.

Time hangs heavily too on Butterworth's Bredon Hill and Other Songs from a Shropshire Lad.  Butterworth's setting  seems more straightforward than Ralph Vaughan Williams's, but Butterworth's exists only as piano song, without the extra instrumentation that makes RVW's versions soar.  RVW created his cycle after his musical breakthrough, working with Ravel. Butterworth, thirteen years younger, never had the chance.

Williams and Burnside make a case for Butterworth's cycle. Listen to When the Lad for Longing sighs. Butterworth's minor key is so eerie that it wavers almost towards the pentatonic. Then, On the Idle Hill of Summer, the main phrase curving up and down. The song operates on several levels. Languid summer on the surface, but undercut by images of war and death.  "East and west on fields forgotten, bleach the bones of comrades slain". It's not a dreamy day in the Cotswolds.

Williams shapes the odd, unsettling phrase archly, so the curves are almost sinister. Butterworth was fascinated by the potential in this piece, creating the orchestral miniature that's so well known.  He didn't know that he'd end up dead on the Somme, but we do. Williams sing with poignant dignity.

More rarities - the second recording of Folk Songs from Sussex and the little known Requiescat.  The pioneer recording, by Mark Stone, was made in November 2009. It must have spurred Naxos into action, as Williams's recording was made in  January 2010. Stone is good and deserves credit. In any case, Butterworth fans need both recordings, as Stone's includes rare video footage.  Besides, Stone's own label is independent and worth supporting (read about another very good recording on the label  HERE)  Needless to say, Naxos's sleeve notes are useless and misleading, while Stone's are very good indeed. If I praise Roderick Williams, that doesn't diminish Mark Stone, Williams is just unbeatable in this genre, by anyone..

Nonetheless, Roderick Williams is infinitely more experienced, and his insight is unsurpassed. The Sussex Songs are simple, but Williams gives them such character that you wonder why they've remained unrecorded for so long (they've been sitting in the archives for years, and have been published by Stainer and Bell).

Folk songs these are but Butterworth isn't "folksy". Williams' s singing is crisp, energetic, direct, matching the jaunty rhythms. Seventeen Come Sunday has complicated nonsense phrases which Williams enunciates nimbly. He even manages to mimic the old Sussex rural accent when it helps colour the songs. The flirtatious girl, who salaciously sings "Roving in the dew makes the milkmaids fair". In Tarry Trousers, Williams sings both mother and daughter! The accents aren't overdone. Williams sings the pompous young man in Yonder stands a lovely creature, then the girl's biting putdown: simple, crisp semi-staccato. These songs came from Sussex, but the people they depict could be anywhere, even today.  Unbelievably good sound quality, too - the slight echo in Requiescat may or may not have been deliberate, but it's suitably spooky.

photo credit Tina Manthorpe

Simon Holt Centauromachy

Simon Holt's new work Centauromachy will be premiered in Cardiff in November (BBC National Orchestra of Wales)  Big event, as Holt's music is dramatically vivid (see other posts on this site, like THIS).

"Centauromachy is a double concerto and takes the two opposing personalities of the mythical centaur as its starting point ", goes the press release. "The intricate internal structures of his works are concealed by a seemingly impulsive nature. During the 1980s he worked primarily in complex soundworlds, while since the 1990s, the dense textures have often been offset by Feldmanesque moments of calm, that Holt refers to as ‘still centres’."

Holt explains “Centauromachy (a double concerto for Clarinet in A and flugelhorn) is based on the idea of centaurs. Centaurs are a species of mythical creature that appear to have the torso of a man joined at the waist to the hind quarters of a horse at where the horse's head and neck would normally be. They are essentially fantastical beasts that combine, simultaneously, two distinct natures in one body. This may account for, on the one hand, their wisdom, making them intelligent teachers, whilst also making them impulsive and lustful, trapped in a kind of limbo between their two inherent natures: wild and yet capable of civilised behaviour. Chiron (who was the teacher of Achilles) is held as the superior of all centaurs and he features in a dreaming state in the second movement. Centaurs are well known for being heavy drinkers capable of violent and delinquent behaviour. Chiron, however, is highly intelligent and kind. There was once a battle between the Centaurs and the Lapiths and this battle features in the fourth movement. The piece ends with an Elegeia for Chiron, who died sacrificing himself in order that man may obtain the use of fire".


PLEASE SEE MY REVIEW OF THE PREMIERE HERE
Because this is a BBC commission, the concert will be broadcast nationally and internationally, and online, for all to hear. Thank God for "socialism", which is no more scary than the idea of providing public service for the benefit of all. Any Holt premiere is important because he's one of the great current British composers. PLENTY MORE ON SIMON HOLT on this site, please search.
(painting by Piero di Cosimo)

Secret China - Shanghai Dreams

Secret China - there are so many things about China that few people know. In the late 50's and early 60's, one of Mao Zedong's projects was to turn the remote Southwest of China into a "Third Front" against foreign invasion. It's an impregnable region, cradled by the Himalayas, and the Gobi Desert to the north, thousands of miles from the coast. So the Communist Party thought, if no-one can attack, it's a good place to build a massive military industrial complex which can be kept top secret.

In the West, the US and USSR were in the midst of the Cold War, building bombs and missiles, so what happened in China wasn't any crazier, especially since memories were still fresh of the Japanese Invasion where ten million moved from coast to interior.  Trouble was, these remote provinces were poor because they had no resources. No raw materials, no workforce, no market, no infrastructure.

The Third Front was an experiment in social engineering, moving hindreds of thousands of people from big cities like Shanghai into remote mountain villages like this one in Guizhou.  Massive displacement of people and society. The Party provided a network of factories, which controlled all aspects of people's lives. But it was not a natural order. The locals resented the newcomers, the newcomers weren't too happy either, but had to stick it out. Many of these were idealists, who had to face the reality of their dreams.

Shanghai Dreams, directed by Xiaoshuai Wang, won the Jury Prize at Cannes in 2006. It's extremely good. Watch it on BBCTV4 for two more days, but ignore the BBC synopsis, which is clueless.  It's a beautiful film, like a poem, about the people behind the history. It's China in the early 1980's after the Cultural Revolution, when a new world which was  beginning to emerge. The Third Front isn't mentioned, but that's the background which explains why Wu Zemin is so desperate to return to Shanghai.
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Wu buillies his daughter Qinghong mercilessly because he's afraid she'll settle in the remote provinces. "Our lives don't count", he and his friends tell each other, all of them longing for better things."It's the future of our children we must protect".  Meanwhile Qinghong and her friends are finding themselves in the usual teenage way, flirting, organizing secret dance parties where they don't actually dare to dance, and the height of rebellion is playing Boney M. It's an extremely delicate, sensitive movie, tenderly made. At the very end, the Director adds a subtitle "In memory of my parents and the thousands who struggled for the Third Front". Simple words, but thousands of human tragedies, thousands of humble lives.

Glyndebourne Don Giovanni - full review

Jonathan Kent and set designer Paul Brown created the astounding Purcell Fairy Queen at Glyndebourne in 2009, so there was no chance this new production of Don Giovanni at Glyndebourne would be dull. Think about who Don Giovanni is. He's always one step ahead, adapting and changing, always on the move. Kent and Brown take their cue from the opera and its music.

As we sat waiting for the performance to start, the theatre at Glyndebourne was suddenly plunged into total darkness. A power cut? No, this was theatre, in every sense. Gradually golden light picks out the orchestra. It's a beautiful image, burnished instruments, musicians moving as in a ballet. Immediately, attention is focused on the music, as it should be.

The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment is one of the finest period orchestras in Europe. Historically-informed performance is valuable in Don Giovanni, not because it's authentic whatever that might be, but because it creates lighter textures, reflecting the elegant, flexible movement in the music.

Then, instead of a conventional set, there's a giant rotating cube, a square globe, so to speak, which contains "the world". It unfolds, reshaping and reinventing itself: a box of tricks, like Don Giovanni himself. Because it's meticulously designed the cube moves quickly and silently. it's much less intrusive than conventional set changes. Major transformations take place during the interludes, so they don't get in the way. This amazing set frees the action from technical limitations. allowing the drama to unfold, rapid-fire and free.

At first the cube reveals its secrets slowly. A crack appears: it's a narrow alleyway. Don Giovanni is trapped like a rat, so he lashes out and kills the Commendatore..The cube closes again, its outer walls like a stone building. Later, the cube opens to reveal a sunlit garden, complete with trees. It's the peasant wedding. So many shifts of focus. Garden transforms to ballroom, Zerlina's loyalties shift, the masked visitors move in on Don Giovanni.

Conflagration ends the First Act. While the crowd converge on Don Giovann, Don Ottavio points at objects, just like the Commendatore will later point at Don Giovanni. For now, it's just the furniture that goes up in flames. Real flames, you can smell the gas. It feels dangerous, even though you know Glyndebourne (and its insurers) have checked it all out thoroughly. We know Don Giovanni will end up in hell, but seeing him circled by fire is dramatic. It's entirely consistent with the turbulent music with which Mozart marks the beginning of Don Giovanni's end.

In the Second Act, the giant cube is transformed, as if it's exploded. Don Giovanni's clever stratagems are beginning to shatter. Instead of neat panels, wild diagonal planes, sharp angles, knife edges, if you will. Violence implicit. The pace quickens, the orchestral playing with great agility. Some of the best singing all evening, too, the cast invigorated. Movement is well blocked, the cast nimbly negotiating the change of position (and costume).

Perched dangerously on the central diagonal plane, Gerald Finley (Don Giovanni) and Luca Pisaroni (Leporello) read the inscription on the Commendatore's grave. No statue as such, but by this point in the performance the atmosphere of horror is so intense that a device like a talking statue would seem clumsy. As Finley teeters on the dangerous ledge, and Pisaroni cowers in terror, the Commendatore's voice booms out. Invisible threats are much more frightening.

A golden candelabra on a luxurious table cloth. Don Giovanni's showing off, trying to impress.  But the table's on the spot that was the grave. Suddenly,the Commendatore pops up, a corpse in a rotting, blood-stained shroud. Death levels all, rich or poor.  The corpse topples the table over, exposing its flimsy structure. Slowly, the corpse moves towards Don Giovanni and zaps him dead. Everyone gasps. A fantastic coup-de-théâtre!

It's an overpowering image. Thank goodness for the final chorus Questo è il fin, where order is restored, and we're reminded that theatre is glorious illusion.

Magnificent as the set is, this will also be a Don Giovanni to listen to audio only,  for the orchestra. The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment are so good that they can generate almost demonic energy from the lighter timbres of period instruments. Vladimir Jurowski has rarely sounded more inspired, his tendency towards mysticism countered by the brightness of this playing. The music in the ballroom scene was particularly well defined. Trios move throughout this music, so defining the tripartite form in this orchestration is important.

Excellent flow between ensemble and soloists. Musicians of this calibre really make a difference This lutenist sounds truly seductive, and the harpsichord's spiky interjections signal alertness, because there's such sharpness of attack.

Gerald Finley's Don Giovanni is smooth, even a little soft-grained to start with, but then he's playing a man who achieves his aims by charm. His champagne aria, Fin ch'han dal vino, didn't fizzle but perhaps that's a hint that Don Giovanni's pursuit of pleasure is ultimately hollow. When Don Giovanni's trapped, he's most lethal. In the Second Act, Finley's voice darkens malevolently, yet he also manages to express the vulnerability in Don Giovanni's character. Does he really enjoy seduction, or is it obsession? Perhaps women are attracted because they sense that need in him.

But the operas isn't Don Giovanni's alone. Luca Pisaroni's Leporello made the dynamic between master and servant powerfully pungent. At Glyndebourne, you sometimes can't tell patrons from waiters, they're all in the same uniform, which adds extra piquancy to Mozart's subversion.

The interaction between Finley and Pisaroni is very carefully timed, superb vocal rapport. Pisaroni's Leporello is no put-upon fool, he pulls the strings. Very muscular, assertive singing, masterful in every way. At the end, Pisaroni's Leporello takes a photo of his master's corpse. Does he, too, have a "stud book" of past conquests?

The friend with whom I attended this performance has heard Cesare Siepi, Elizabeth Schwarzkopf and many others in this opera, but he doesn't judge singers in isolation as if they were lab specimens. Context matters, too. "These female singers are more like real women", he said, "not divas doing a role". It's a generous comment, as Kate Royal's Donna Elvira is just too big for her, and Anna Samuil's Donna Anna, though good in general, won't go down in history. Though, given the performance history of this opera, that's a tall order.

Anna Virovlansky’s Zerlina stood out, vocally firm and bright, physically vivacious and energetic..There she is, up against a wall with Don Giovanni, eagerly co-operating. Confronted by Masetto (Guido Loconsolo) she begs him to beat her. Virovlansky makes it sound wildly kinky, hinting at the darker aspects of Zerlina's personality.

More, and production photos in Opera Today

.http://www.operatoday.com/content/2010/07/glyndebourne_do.php 

ADDENDUM : The film version shown on BBCTV (and presumably the DVD) is completely different to the live performance  Lots of closeups, which are good but very little wider angle shots, so you don't get a sense of the  quick changer movement that we saw live. Pity, as that movement reflects Don G, a quick-change artists who can swap personality like he swaps clothes. That's how he charms! He survives because he's always been one step of the game, quick witted and chameleon like.  Don G is motivated by Liberta, the need always to be free of any kind of entanglement, so when the net closes in, he doesn't care anymore. On the film, all close angles, tight spaces, darkness, no contrasts of brightness. Also you don't see how scary the angles on the set are, which is part of meaning.  Singing wise, the film was well miked so Finley and Kate Royal come over much better. It's still a big part for her  as she doesn't quite have the emotional range. Close ups and good angles helped immeasurably. Pisaroni as Leporello, though, is even better close up than live - fabulous singing, natural, animated, and a stage animal too. (He's Thomas Hampson's son-in-law). Don't judge this production by the film. They're so different you need to catch a revival.

Drottningholm - real period Mozart

The Court Theatre at Drottningholm was built in 1766, but was sealed up after the death of  Gustav III, King of Sweden. Thus it survived, pretty much intact until rediscovered in 1921. Like Český Krumlov it's authentic baroque, perfectly preserved.

Drottningholm was a  private Royal theatre, so though it's elaborate, it's tiny. No large wings. Scenes are created by moving a series of proscenium arches. The stage is surprisingly bare, no attempt at fake realism.  "Classical" implies elegance, Grecian simplicity. So much for the myth that opera should be late 19th century excess. If there's anywhere to experience Mozart as he might have been heard in his own time, it's Drottningholm, where even the orchestra  are dressed in wigs and breeches, even the women!

After ENO's Idomeneo, I watched Drottningholm's Idomeneo, filmed in 1991, still available on DVD because it's a classic.  Only one or two of the singers are familiar, but the performance is very good. What's really amazing though is how spare the sets are, and how effective it is.

The backdrop is plain : nothing but a few strips of painted waves at the base. Completely stylized. When they move, it's done by having men shake the boards up and down. What dominates is the blankness of the "sky". Nothing on stage except for a simple bench where Ilia sits, which later turns into a simple altar where Idomeneo faces his gods. The only scenery comes from the prosceniums at the side, which are painted very realistically. One frame simply shows pillars, meaning the palace. Movies and TV had trained us to expect too much realism on stage. Nowadays, audiences would be screaming "Dread Regie". Audiences at Drottningholm would have been bemused. For them, theatre meant using your imagination.

Ilia appears alone, swathed in silver-grey, emphasizing her isolation from the rest of the Cretan court. Idomeneo and Idamante wear costumes of no particular period, just shades of black, enlivened with silver embroidery. The crowds here are covered in simple black, with tricorn hats. The soldiers look Roman, not Greek, but that's OK, opera isn't history. The crowds appear and exit like a Greek chorus. They don't need to be "doing" anything but sing.

But look how Neptune makes his mark!  Just a faint portrait of him on the backdrop, but thunder, dark chords in the music, Elettra  writhing on the ground, voluminous sleeves waving, like black waves. Then the chous appears, a mass of black, faces masked in white, arms raised. The fake waves move up and down and Idomeneo stumbles in and sings his glorious recitative.

When Ilia sings her "breeze" aria, white muslin curtains billow from the wings. On the film, extra cutrtains are superimposed on her image, buit it's not necessary, the idea of open seas and skies is already present in the simplicity of the staging.

When the people rise up, Neptune;''s Priest is a huge, imposing fellow, all black, with flowing white locks down to his waist - the idea of billowing clouds, foam on waves again. He's the God's represenatation as well as representative. How austere, yet how effective. The crowd now are in basic late 18th century costume, but black and masked. Neptune's face appears again on the backdrop. Idomeneo faces his god face to face now, it feels powerful, like a confrontation. So when the god's voice booms out, it makes emotional sense.

Do try and get this Drottningholm Idomeneo DVD if you can, because its' an excellent performance (and in Italian thank goodness, opera in translation is rarely right).  It's also worth getting because it shows how simple period performance could be, and surprisingly modern. What is "traditional" after all, but a theoretical construct?
 
COMING LATER : Full review of Glyndebourne Don Giovanni, I don't do superficial so it takes longer. Haha!

John Adams Rock Opera Barbican

For years, Rock stars have been putting together "concept" albums, stringing together a number of songs and calling it "opera". So John Adams does the same with I was looking at the ceiling and then I saw the sky..  Wonderful title, taken from an eyewitness to the Northridge earthquake in California in 1989.  In theory, a great idea for an opera, in Adams's usual style of mixing fact and fiction, but this comes dangerously close to parody.

Adams' "concept album" uses a rock band, supplemented sometimes with clarinet and saxophone. .It even starts with what is described as a late 1970’s “hit song”. Then there’s a number “á la Stevie Wonder” – Adams’ words, not mine. It’s followed by a Latin American duet and “hard blues rock à la Joe Cocker”. Along the way we visit jazz, funk scat and “lyrical ballad à la Witney Houston”. There’s even a number grandly named “aleatoric improvisation à la Witold Lutoslawski in rock style”. It’s certainly very clever, for it enables Adams to mimic the chosen style and carry it off in a more sophisticated manner.

It’s an adventure in musical gender bending and not bad at all as rock opera – much better indeed than some of the more mock serious offerings. For people who’ve only known rock, this may come over as genius writing, for some of it really is not bad. On the other hand, though, I could not escape the feeling that it was self-consciously pretentious, well intentioned but stupid, like a restaurant serving fashionable takes on traditional dishes. Pie and chips with sushi, perhaps, or fried Mars Bars with cognac dressing.. 

Adams compared his work to the Brecht and Weill classic, The Threepenny Opera. It’s ostensibly about seven working class people. Adams found June Jordan, the poet and civil rights activist to write the libretto. There is social comment here, for how could there not be when the characters are small-time criminals, illegal immigrants, gays and minorities? At the end, two of the characters stand up nobly for democracy, and the illegal immigrant vows to go back to El Salvador to fight for human rights. As politics, it’s about as analytical and realistic as cornflake packet art.

So guess what, I didn't go to the new production at The Barbican   But for anyone who wants a recording I suggest the one on Naxos which is not only dirt cheap but an unusual cast - Germans singing American. This adds a decidely surreal touch, which improves the work immeasurably.  The secret of appreciating this work - not one of Adams' best - is not to take it too seriously. The Naxos recording (2004) is by the Young Opera Company Freiburg..

Kimako Xavier Trotman (wonderful name) stands out as Dewain, the hardman convict with a soft side, who wants to become a lawyer and fight for justice. His voice is agile and muscular, easily making the transition from ghetto music to the elevated declarations of hope in the culmination of the opera, when he discovers freedom and love. He is also a Fulbright scholar and Juilliard graduate, who speaks six languages, writes pop songs and lives in Europe. If anyone can convincingly span the gap between popular and “serious” music, it’s someone as genuinely multigenre as he.

Verdi Purdah Saturday Night

Saturday night and we're all indoors watching TV in this weather? Nuts? But Simon Boccanegra is on, from the Royal Opera House. BBCTV 2 tonight at 7.30. Pity it clashes with  Manon, also from the Royal Opera House at 7pm on BBC Radio 3, from 7. But this isn't any ordinary telecast, which is why it's on BBC TV2 a big channel. It's being broadcast simultaneously on BP big screens all over the UK, too, if you want to watch outdoors among crowds (which can be a lot of fun).

Before the premiere there was lots of negative comment on the internet about Placido Domingo's decision to sing Boccanegra. Success always attracts jealousy, so there are a lot of detractors, who'll pick at the least little thing. A lot of people get their kicks from hate. Fortunately people who know their stuff don't need to prove themselves by copying trolls. Domingo's Boccanegra is a historic occasion, beyond pettiness, and his performance much greater than meets the ear.

But there is more to performance than picking at nits. I was deeply moved "because" of the tension and imperfections. Boccanegra is an old man who's achieved a lot, but now the strain is showing on him. He knows that power and wealth don't mean a lot when you've got enemies all round and you don't have love.

So Domingo's performance in many ways benefits from the tension in pitch. Boccanegra is not what he was as a young man, he won't be as vigorous as he was. Notice how Domingo shepherded his resources in the prologue: he looked young and sang securely. Then by the poisoning monologue, he's letting the tension in pitch work for the characterization.

He's astute to pick on Simon B for his (perhaps) glorious coda. Listen how spare the textures are, more declamation than extended flourish, short, brief forays that don't expose a voice for long. And the orchestration, recognizably Verdi but austere and spartan, like the hard marble surfaces around him, and the political situation he's in.

There's a proverb that goes, when a hand is held high, some will see the dirt under the fingernails. Others will see that the fingers are pointing towards the heavens.

Please see my review  on Opera Today.and a more personal take on this site HERE.

Glyndebourne Don Giovanni - amazing !

HERE is the full review as promised. More detailed, more coherent.  :Below, first impressions

Just as the performance of Don Giovanni is about to begin, the lights at Glyndebourne black out - sudden danger! And then from the darkness emerged light, spotlighting the orchestra and conductor Vladimir Jurowski. It focuses the mind on the music, which is as it should be, but it's also great theatre - all is not what it seems at first in this brilliant production by Jonathan Kent, which truly captures the spirit of the opera.

Out of the shadows, you can just make out a gigantic rotating cube. It opens a crack, revealing a narrow alleyway from which there is no escape. Which is why Don Giovanni kills the Commendatore. Killing isn't usually his style, but when he's trapped like a rat, he lashes out at anyone in his way. Immediately he's revealed as selfish, cowardly, dangerous.

This set is a work of art in itself. It reinforces the opera, expanding meaning in support of the cast and orchestra. It's a wonder. Paul Brown, the designer, deserves huge respect. The technology that went into this would have been formidable. There's so much detail, yet everything works effortlessly. You couldn't get such flexibility (or such silent changes) with conventional sets. This  design allows almost cinematic changes of pace and focus. Because it moves so well, and is so inventive, there's no chance of it overpowering the action (like the machine in Salome) But the main thing is that it frees the action from technical limitations. It allows the drama to unfold, rapid-fire and free.

Vladimir Jurowski was inspired. Demonic energy! The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment sizzled, putting paid forever to the idea that historically-informed performance can't equal conventional orchestration. Indeed, because it was a period orchestra, textures were more flexible, lighter, more vivid, again supporting the pace of the drama. In the ballroom scene, the idea of several orchestras playing at the same time was clearly defined, so the effect was unsettling. But that's as it should be in this game of illusion.

Excellent flow between ensemble and soloists, who were superb. It really makes a difference when the lutenist sounds truly seductive, and the harpsichord's spiky interjections signal danger. Magnificent as the set is, this will also be a Don Giovanni to listen to, for the orchestra. My friend and I were truly lucky to sit (circle, middle, front) where we could see Jurowski and the OAE clearly. Orchestras are beautiful, visually (unless you're sitting among them). In this Don Giovanni, watching the orchestra added a  deeper dimension. The whole plot revolves on deception : watching the orchestra reminds us that theatre is illusion, too.

With an orchestra as good as this, and such an imaginative, supportive set, the cast have things relatively easy.  Gerald Finley's smooth, a little too laidback perhaps, vocally, but Don Giovanni seducesby his charm.   Why is Don Giovanni a compulsive seducer who cares more for quantity than quality ? A big advantage of having Finley sing the role is that he normally projects a much more relaxed image. Here he's disguised in white jacket, snazzy shades and moves his hips like a snake, It screams "Sleazeball!". But with Finley, you know it's an act, a carefully planned image.

Finley's champagne aria Fin ch'han dal vino didn't fizzle but perhaps that's a hint that Don Giovanni's pursuit of pleasure is ultimately hollow. In the second act, Finley's voice hardens lethally, with a darker edge. Is Don Giovanni demented? No-one normal invites the dead to dinner. Even as jest, it's desperation.

But the operas isn't Don Giovanni's alone. Luca Pisaroni's Leporello made the dynamic between master and servant powerfully pungent. At Glyndebourne, you sometimes can't tell patrons from waiters, they're all in the same uniform, which adds extra piquancy to Mozart's.subversion.

The interaction between Finley and Pisaroni is very carefully timed, superb blocking and vocal rapport. Pisaroni's Leporello is no put-upon fool, he pulls the strings. Very muscular, assertive singing, masterful. At the end, he takes a photo of his master's corpse. Does he, too, have a "stud book" of past conquests?

The friend who took me to Glyndebourne has heard Cesare Siepi, Elizabeth Schwarzkopf and many others in this opera, so his views mean a lot. He doesn't judge singers in isolation as if they were lab specimens. Context matters, too. "These female singers are more like real women", he said, "not divas doing a role". It's a very generous comment, as Kate Royal's Donna Elvira is just too big for her, and Anna Samuil's Donna Anna, though good in general, won't go down in history. But given the performance history of this opera, the competition would overwhelm most anyone.

Anna Virovlansky’s Zerlina stood out, vocally firm and bright, physically vivacious and energetic. She's the female counterpart to Don Giovanni, She likes sex!  (Possibly more than he does.) There she is, up against the wall with DG, still in her wedding gown. Confronted by Masetto (Guido Loconsolo) she begs him to beat her. Virovlansky makes it sound wildly kinky, hinting at the darker aspects of Zerlina's personality.

In this amazing production, the first act ends with a conflagration. The ballroom goes up in real flames. It's dangerous, though you know Glyndebourne and their insurers have checked it out thoroughly. You can smell the sulphurous fumes. Wonderul theatre, but also true to the opera, for it refers to the hellfires that await  Don Giovanni (or from which he may have come).

In the second act, the net is rapidly closing in. The gigantic cube now transforms, shattering in wild diagonal planes. The angle of the main plane is so steep it looks dangerous. It should be. This is where the Commendatore is buried. A few quick changes and the dining table appears, gorgeously lit in gold. But all round it, the set's imploded, sharp angles, knife edges if you will .Violence implicit.

When Don Giovanni's trapped, he's most dangerous. Yet, Finley's snappy singing and jerky gestures indicate that defiance is Don G's way of masking tension. The  orchestra's screaming, the set screams silently, everyone knows something horrible's going to happen. And up pops the Commendatore (Brindley Sherratt, called in  earlier than planned).  He's not a speaking statue here, but a corpse rising from the grave, shroud rotting and hideous. He knocks over the dining table, revealing the flimsy construction beneath the luxury tablecloth. Again, marvellous theatre, and faithful to the spirit of the opera, because movement is so much part of it (and specially this performance). It's the ultimate dramatic entrance!  Slowly, the Commendatore turns to Don Giovanni and zaps him dead.  It's such a coup of theatre that the final chorus Questo è il fin becomes even more significant, bringing us back to semi-reality, so we don't emerge into Glyndebourne's garden too traumatized.

Photos and sound clips here on the Glyndebourne site.  This Don Giovanni has been filmed and will no doubt be issued on DVD. It's the BBC TV Xmas opera, too. Wonderful ! PLEASE NOTE,this is the full, final review : http://www.operatoday.com/content/2010/07/glyndebourne_do.php

Diabolus in musica : Lloyd Moore

Diabolus in Musica: the devil in the music. British composer Lloyd Moore’s Diabolus in Musica (2007) refers to the tritone. In the Middle Ages, people weren't used to the modern equal tempered scale. They liked the symmetry of perfect fourths and fifths.The tritone, an augmented fourth between pure intervals offended their concepts of symmetry, which saw coded religious messages in many things. It "must" have been the Devil's work because it undercut symmetry. In practice, however, singers sharpened and flattened notes when they could, to enliven their lines.

Lloyd Moore’s Diabolus in Musica is wonderfully vivacious and inventive. It's very mature, very distinctive. Do yourself a favour and listen to it while you can. It’s broadcast on BBC Radio 3, online, (follow this link) on demand and internationally until Saturday night London time. Andre de Ridder conducts the BBC Symphony Orchestra.  It runs about 15 minutes, starting around 3 minutes in. I know, I’ve been listening to it repeat after repeat. Highly recommended!

This is how Moore describes the piece:
“Although there are, obviously, tritones in Diabolus in Musica, they tend to govern underlying harmonic schemes rather than being too obviously apparent on the surface. Structurally, the work proceeds by stages to would-be climaxes which end in collapse each time. After the second of these, a central section at half-speed ensues with woodwind solos over chiming bell sounds. The character of the opening eventually returns, this time proceeding more decisively. A section with stuttering, ‘morse-code’ patterns on three piccolos leads to a somewhat Varèse-like preparation over a pedal point, after which the work’s true climax is reached (confirmed by the attainment of the work’s overall ‘tonic’ pitch of F), followed by a brief coda which drives the resolution home.”

Lloyd Moore was born in London into a non-musical family and studied composition at Trinity College of Music and King's College London. His earliest recognised work is Divine Radiance for large ensemble, first performed by the London Sinfonietta in 1999. Other works have been performed by such performers as the Philharmonia Orchestra, Psappha, Emperor Quartet and pianist Andrew Zolinsky at the Huddersfield, Norfolk; Norwich, Hampstead & Highgate, Cheltenham and Presteigne Festivals, among others. His works have been broadcast in the UK, Europe and Australia. Read more about Moore and his music here on his website.www.lloydmooremusic.co.uk

ENO Idomeneo - Poseidon Adventure

The ENO Mozart Idomeneo is a strange and wondrous beast, like something in a myth which defies logic. It's a schizoid creature of two parts, insufferably naff and spectacularly bright, at the same time. What's going on?

Idamante  meets his father Idomeneo on the beach,  just after being told the older man is dead. What, no shock? The words are there, but where's the emotion?  This is the basic premise of the entire opera, on which all else pivots.  Unless you already know Mozart or Greek myth, you'd be all at sea too. In this production that crucial scene is so underplayed it comes over as a meaningless, casual encounter. Is being saved from death so commonplace?  No menace, no mystery, no terrifying portent. The crucial thing in the opera is, what's the catch?

As a friend says, it's too fantastic to be real, so why the modern setting? But because all good art is universal, the "real" story in Mozart's Idomeneo is a moral dilemma. Idomeneo has traded away what he loves most to save himself, and must pay a terrible price. Greeks used Gods as symbols of powerful forces. Poseidon (Neptune in Italian), isn't real but what he stands for is very real indeed. Just not this time.

Beautiful opening: Expensive, golden luxury, a picture window opening onto a panorama of the sea. It's a good simile for Princess Ilia's predicament - trapped in a gilded cage. When the hordes of waiters and  functionaries wander around here, it works. For a while. But they don't stop., throughout nearly the whole opera. Less is more! Once the point is made, there's no point carrying on and on and on. When there is room for a crowd, when the Cretans mutiny, they're directed with genteel restraint. Just another set of waiters,  but in messy costumes, not peasants driven to revolution. No wonder Idomeneo is piqued rather than terrorized.

The airport scene's good because it breaks the plane across the stage into two compartments, which also represents the division between royal privilege and the masses. Wonderful thunder and lightning. We can all identify with this, if we've been in planes in a storm. Just how the Cretans felt in their little boats out on the ocean.

Note though, the constant intrusion of Nature onto this cosy, hermetically sealed world. Perhaps that is Katie Mitchell's point, that Idomeneo and Idamante live in an unnaturally sterile cocoon, denying Nature. But unless we feel the wild force of nature, we can't see what the fuss is about. That wild forcefulness is in the music, well conducted by Edward Gardner. That's where the production should be taking its cue.

Ilia is crucial to the plot, not just as love interest biut because she's the Trojan prisoner who springs Idamante and Idomeneo from their claustrophobia. But note Illia's big aria, "Friendly solitude, amorous breezes" . It's about the sea, freedom, clean air. Perhaps Mitchell's making a point by staging it inside an underground bunker, where nature appears in fuzzy images on a slide projector. But it would be simpler and more effective to depict nature in other ways. For example, take the idea of "rooms" used in the airport scene (and the panorama windows). Perhaps Ilia could be in a small box side stage, on a terrace, overlooking the sea? That's where Poseidon lives, where the death pact happened.

Paul Nilon and Robert Murray were good singers, but didn't act, or more accurately, were not called upon to act. They're stupefied, drained of life by the make-work busy-ness around them. Nor are they all that well defined other than by their voices : Murray's bigger and has more physical presence than Nilon. Give him a crown, to even things out! Sarah Tynan's Ilia is sweet, a little sharp at the top, but that's in character. Not much the production can do to submerge her.

The stroke of genius in this production is Elettra, wonderfully created by Emma Bell. Voluptuous, sexy, temperamental, wanton - she's a rebel, too, chafing at the unnatural atmosphere in this palace, but, twisted, she turns to drink and kinky sex. It's a very realistic, believable characterization and develops the narrative well. Bell is amazing, great panache, intense vocal colour. Unfortunately, the rest of the production didn't quite live up to the level of this characterization.

Even before the start of the run, there was a lot of negative publicity, which wasn't constructive. This isn't a pop-Mozart , so it deserved better. So there are silly things in it but there have been far worse travesties. And there are also some very good things indeed.  Definitely not a boring evening. I'd gladly go again to a revival where they tighten up the drama.  Please also see my rant on the use of crowds at the ENO. Mitchell's not the only perpetrator. Please also see my other posts on Idomeneo and on the Drottningholm Idomeneo from 30 years ago which this ENO version resembles, oddly enough. That gives me hpope that, with amendments, Katie Mitche3ll could make something ofb this production next time round.

Happy Birthday, Gustav Mahler

Happy Birthday, Gustav Mahler! 150 candles, blown out by mysterious wind......

Idomeneo ENO - surprise!

At last I got round to seeing Idomeneo at ENO.   Some friends advised, go with the lowest possible expectations, so anything positive witll be a plus. Others, on the other hand, said it was  a great experience and misunderstood.  So I kept an open mind. But what a surprise! There were things I utterly loathed and things I utterly loved. So many things to say, but I'm too tired now and in  any case will be at Don Giovanni tomorrow, So, please  watch this space, because I want to do something fairly analytical. What an odd production, such extremes. Not boring though. That's why I want to write something thoughtful, not kneejerk. Chances are, this will be revived, but it could be improved immeasurably next time round.

ENO has been in the storms lately, but it's mostly unfair. That Alfie Boe hooha! Of course it's heartbreaking when the star you love doesn't show. But quite frankly people who go to an opera for a star and not for the opera deserve what they get. They want a consumer product, a moving version of a DVD. Well, that's not real life..The fan missed out on everything else because she didn't care about anything except herself, Alfie included.  Fans like that are unhealthy. They turn their idol into a plastic doll on which to project their needs.  If fans are unreasonable, then their star becomes a liability. They probably don't care, because he's "theirs" then. A pity, because Alfie Boe deserves better.

Massenet Manon Royal Opera House

What a contrast between Strauss Salome and Massenet Manon at the Royal Opera House. Not the performances - both excellent, the singing in Manon exceptionally good. But the two productions are opposite case studies in how to present opera.

David McVicar's Salome takes one aspect of Salome and develops it to the exclusion of all others. Laurent Pelly's Manon takes its cue from the music and French style. Maybe there's more to look at in McVicar's Salome, but Pelly's Manon is much closer to the spirit of the opera. That, for me, is the crux of what makes a good production. It's nothing to do with period setting, abstraction, costumes, décor - only how the drama grows from the music.

Massenet's Manon is opéra-comique., which doesn't mean "comedy", but  lucid drama where the story's told through speech and action as well as from song.  So, it needs stylish acting, clear dialogue, classically direct set designs that elucidate the drama, not submerge it.  Laurent Pelly's direction and Chantal Thomas's set designs perfectly fit the elegance and clarity of the musical writing..
 
Manon stops for a moment in Amiens before being shipped off to a convent. So the town walls of Amiens loom above her. Not quite menacingly yet, for she's still (fairly) innocent.  Throughout the production, wide open spaces are contrasted with narrower constraints. This is true to the narrative, too. Thomas makes extremely good use of the whole space at the Royal Opera House, so the whole area reflects the opera..

At the Cours-la-Reine, sloping diagonals gently rise above the stage, so the crowd is spread out yet concentrated in clear lines of movement. At Saint-Sulpice, the church is depicted by a few huge pillars rising up into empty space, dwarfing the flimsy chairs below. This symbolizes the austerity of the church: simple, but powerful, its ideals rising above petty detail.  The priesthood means celibacy and poverty: the complete opposite of the life Manon has chosen. Misunderstand this scene and miss the meaning of the whole opera. When Manon snatches Des Grieux from his faith, she's doomed. It's far worse than being caught cheating at cards.

"Anna Netrebko is wonderful" , her understudy Simona Mihai (who sings Pousette) told me in a recent interview. (It's delightful, do read it.). She's right: Netrebko positively radiates the part. We know Manon is wild - or she wouldn't be shipped off to a convent - but Netrebko shows her goodness too. She makes Manon's love for Des Grieux seem genuine, if shallow. Again, set reflects drama. The apartment is a ramshackle structure, up rickety flights of stairs, as fragile as the relationship between the lovers. When there's a knock on the door, Netrebko shrinks back. She steps gingerly because she knows there's a steep drop behind her so she needs to find a strategically placed bar for safety. .Again, physical action expressing the plot. De Brétigny is Manon's next "safety bar".

So much has been written about Vittorio Grigolo, but he lives up to the publicity. He is good, and not just a "glamour boy". He was most impressive in priest costume, deeply conflicted.  A better sign of his potential as an actor than the relatively straightforward lover scenes. With Netrebko, his chemistry's good, too. Her singing was luscious, even in the end, when she's dying. His matched in depth and fervour.

At Le Havre, the set's bleak, desolate. Manon is trapped and dies, but the horizons are wide open above her, just like in the church, compounding her tragedy. At last Manon and Des Grieux are alone together, so the simplicity is poignant.

Idiomatic French pronunciation, and a feel for the "music" of the language, much more fluent than in the recent Carmen. This matters because the dialogue in this opera is critical. Single words or phrases make an impact. Guillot de Morfontaine (Guy de Mey on 4/7) arranges a ballet to impress Manon, but all she says is "I didn't notice", and off she goes.. 

Movements are crisp, clearly choreographed, particularly in the crowd scenes where groups move together well, which neatly concentrates the impact, without overpowering the principals.  This is good crowd-directing, balancing the impact of a mass while keeping the individuality of those within it. In the Hôtel de Transylvanie, the movements in the crowd are micro managed to fit both music and function.

The trio (Simona Mihai, Kai Rüütel and Louise Innes), operate as a clear unit within the mass. Their movements are very carefully blocked, just as their singing is well paced and accurate. Their movements, too. Timings are so precise that they have to exit moments before Manon walks into the same spot. Innes is the last of the three to move. At the performance I attended, she was just a microsecond too slow and had to speed up so Netrebko didn't walk into her. It probably wasn't obvious unless you were looking and listening carefully to the beat of the orchestra. But it appealed to me because it showed how the movements were planned to each bar in the music.

Antonio Pappano conducted, almost as idiomatically as he conducted Simon Boccanegra a few days before. "Almost" because in Verdi's he's superb. In Massenet, he's merely very good indeed.  Altogether, even better singing all round in Manon than in Salome or even Simon Boccanegra. (Read about Salome HERE)

This production travels in September 2010 to Japan, where they take opera very seriously. They'll probably love it there  Netrebko's singing with Matthew Polenzani as Des Grieux.  Later it moves to La Scala and the Met in New York. Where they're probably already looking forward deliciously to booing parties and pious attacks on Pelly.  Ironically, Pelly and his team are more musically oriented than many acclaimed Met productions. Another review interesting  HERE.

Strauss Salome Royal Opera House David McVicar

In principle, the idea of Salome as victim of child abuse is perfectly reasonable. Herod and Herodias were not nice people (and were uncle and niece, moreover - they "kept it in the family")

The pictures here are by Franz von Stuck, leader of the pioneering Munich Secession that started ten years before the Vienna Secession. Stuck lived in a bizarre palace he designed himself, filled with creepy painting and objects. Art nouveau and decadence are closely related.

So why was I so disappointed in David McVicar's production at the Royal Opera House? Nowadays nudity doesn't shock so there's no reason why Salome's Dance of the Seven Veils needs to be "exotic" per se. But McVicar redirects the emphasis, instead,  to the physical mechanics of stagecraft, so Salome herself becomes largely irrelevant among the props..

Massive, complicated machinery which moves across the stage, overwhelming all else. The action's heavy handed, too. Isn't it obvious when Salome sits with a toy on Herod's knee ? And what's the point of the wardrobe of dresses and so on?  The most effective part of the whole opera was when Salome was simply left to dance, a golden filigree object projected on the wall behind her.

If the drama iasabout Salome, and not the machinery, why is she such a cipher? I don't think the fault lies with Angela Denoke, who sings well, but doesn't convey any of the complexity of Salome's character. Sure, she holds Jokanaan's head between her legs, and blood flows from her private parts rather than from what's left of him, but it's curiously sedate.  Salome-as-psychological-Chernobyl needs to be directed more tightly, and take over the stage, by the intensity of her performance. Denoke's good, but it would take a very unusual person to pull this off.  Salome's like Lulu, child-like outside, volcano within.

It also doesn't help that Denoke has to compete with a railway station full of extras. So it's a palace? We don't need to see so many maids and factotums, standing around, contributing little, that's not all what palaces are. What's the point of the naked girl, or rather, girl in body suit ?  Or the upstairs dining room? We know palaces have dungeons below. So why ? The banquet background of Christof Loy's Tristan und Isolde emphasized the political horse trading that created the situation in the first place.  McVicar's  banquet's just there, it does nothing after having made its point in the first two seconds. Nice staircase, though.

Strauss's groups operate in blocks - holy men for pressure, soldiers for menace. But when they're spread all over, and not defined by action (as opposed to costume) the impact is diffused. Compare Laurent Pelly's use of groups in Manon, concentrated and operating as a unit.  It's these pressures that pile up on Herod, forcing him into a quandary. Though you'd need to know the opera (or Wilde, or the Bible) because it's hardly noticeable in this production.  The story entered the Bible because it's a conflict between Jews and Nazarenes, old authority versus new. A few prayer shawls don't make formidable opposition.

Without conflicts pulling Herod apart, he's neutered, too. Gerhard Seigel's performance is masterful,. He paces himself with steady authority, nice, resonant lower register. As a king, he's totally believable. But as child molester?  Curiously unconnected to Salome for good or ill. As for Jokanaan, one of the reasons Salome wants his head is because he's wild, completely different to the world in the palace. Johan Reuter's improved lots over the years, but hasn't much chance to stand out in this circus of a production.

Fundamentally, singers sing. Acting is where directors come in, to motivate and develop.

Meanwhile, Richard Strauss's music whips itself into neurotic frenzy, exuding unsettling, poisoned perfumes. This music is so thrilling it survives the production. Hartmut Haenchen's experience in modern German repertoire makes his Strauss disturbing, shaping colours languidly, legato curling like a snake. This was excellent playing, and made the evening worthwhile. A good musical experience, good singing all round, even the cameos.

Pity, though, the singers weren't stretched as actors. Irina Mishura has the vocal potential to do more, but here she's merely the inhabitant of a green dress.  Andrew Staples's Nabbaroth is sung with such assurance, you wish more was made of him. And it's worrying when all eyes are on a non-singing part, the naked executioner. Why he's naked I don't know, but he's great to look at. The trouble is, it's Salome we should be looking at, because it's really her show.

Fourth of July !

4th July and I'm midway thru an opera marathon - 6 operas, 8 days. Not usually a good idea, because, for me, depth is more important than breadth. But it will be a challenge! What I'm celebrating is the very fact that we have so much choice, and in many genres..

Last week, I went to Simon Boccanegra, A Midsummers Night's Dream.and caught up with a bit of orchestral left over from previous week when I was at Aldeburgh. Alert!  You can still listen to broadcasts from Aldeburgh on BBC Radio3 online. I enjoyed Christiane Oelze's Messiaen Harawi, one of my favourite works, see here and here. Oelze didn't make it last year and I didn't make it this year, but thanks to the broadcast everyone can hear it. Oelze sings a lot of baroque, so she's made me think of Harawi as a Pagan Liturgy. She brings out the ritualized structure of the piece and the idea of personal sublimated into cosmic.

Alas because I was at Salome at the Royal Opera House (report coming soon) I missed the broadcast of Tamerlano.  I don't care what anyone says, I really enjoyed it at ROH.  My friend and I took it in turns to doze off. I was half awake in the first act, he in the third, but luckily the third act was by far the best, and by then I was fresh enough to appreciate it. The secret of liking Tamerlano I think is to accept it for what it is, a piece that's come from an aesthetic completely different to 19th century Grand Opera, and from an era when time moved more slowly. On DVD, you can pause and get a drink. Just like they did in Handel's time. When they got back, the same aria was still going on. Twenty minutes per sentence!

Manon gets deported to America, so on July 4th I thought about what Manon missed out on (report coming soon too).  At last I get to go to Idomeneo and find out what the fuss is about, and then, Glyndebourne, Don Giovanni. I'll be exhausted, but it will be fun and I'm grateful.  Then, the Proms! Mahler 8, Meistersinger, Simon Boccanegra. Truly we are blessed that we have so much choice and so many opportunities to listen in different ways. The Proms will be broadcast internationally, online, on demand and on TV. The ROH Simon Boccanegra is being broadcast next Saturday too, ahead of the Proms performance, so catch that and compare. And Glyndebourne Don Giovanni will be on TV at Christmas .