Sibelius’ Violin Concerto, Joshua Bell and the New York Philharmonic in Review

New York Philharmonic
Alan Gilbert, conductor
Joshua Bell, violin
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
October 6, 2010

Joshua Bell- Photo Credit: Marc Hom

 Alan Gilbert, Music Director of the New York Philharmonic, started the new season with two contrasting works, one familiar, one unfamiliar: Richard Strauss’ lush, exuberant “Don Juan” and Hindemith’s glittering, humorous “Symphonic Metamorphoses on Themes by Weber.” Counting both among his favorites, he programmed them on the Gala Opening, on the first set of subscription concerts, and again two weeks later, but paired them each time with different works, including two virtuoso violin concertos: the Mendelssohn with Itzhak Perlman and the Sibelius with Joshua Bell.

One can assume that the concerts were attended by mostly different audiences, but the intrepid souls who heard all three programs were rewarded not only by some fabulous fiddling, but also by the chance to compare three different performances of the same works.

The latest program began with Debussy’s atmospheric “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun,” written 1892-94. Inspired by a poem of the same title by Stéphane Mallarmé published in 1876, the music depicts a faun passing a languorous afternoon in dreams and reveries. A true “tone painting,” it seems made of airy, dappled sunlight and fleeting shadows. The orchestration shimmers and glows with shifting, glittering colors; sinuous, elusive melodies wind through the texture; harp glissandi suggest leaves stirred by the breeze. Every instrumental timbre, singly and in combination, contributes to the sensuous, seductive effect. The piece, a test for a virtuoso orchestra, especially the woodwinds, features one of the literature’s greatest solo flute parts played wonderfully on this occasion by the Philharmonic’s principal flutist, Robert Langevin.

Joshua Bell’s performance of the Sibelius was terrific. The concerto brings out all his strengths: the effortless, unlimited virtuosity, glorious, variable tone, and romantic sensibility. The opening seemed to come from a great ice-bound distance, then, breaking free of the arctic cold, the sound became vibrant and intense; the great upward runs swept through the orchestra with dazzling bravura. The slow movement was dark, warm, and very expressive, and culminated in an ecstatic climax. The Finale was very fast and brilliant, but immaculately clear; even the impossible scales in thirds were perfect. In top form, Joshua Bell seems to be reaching new violinistic and communicative heights with every concert.

The Strauss and Hindemith also became more impressive with each performance. Gilbert seemed to exhibit greater confidence, freedom, and exuberance, and to encourage the musicians to do the same. In fact, the Strauss also became faster, demanding ever greater virtuosity from the players, and louder, with the percussion, partly placed toward the front of the stage next to the first violins, rattling the rafters – and the audience. But the build-ups were perfectly paced, the climaxes grand and rapturous.

It was good to hear the rarely-played Hindemith three times in close succession; repeated listening (and playing) clarified the complex counterpoint and intricate texture, and brought out the work’s light-hearted jocularity – a characteristic not often encountered in this essentially serious composer’s work.  

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra led by Gustavo Dudamel with featured artists Lang Lang and Yo-Yo Ma

Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra
Gustavo Dudamel, conductor
Yo-Yo Ma, cello
Carnegie Hall: Stern Auditorium; New York, NY
October 3, 2010

Gustavo Dudamel. Photo Credit Chris Lee

For the Vienna Philharmonic’s last two concerts, the young Venezuelan conductor Gustavo Dudamel took over from the veteran Nikolaus Harnoncourt, and a greater contrast can hardly be imagined. Even the seating of the string sections was different: Harnoncourt had the violins on opposite sides of the stage, Dudamel had them side by side. Only a few years ago, Dudamel created a sensation with his extraordinary talent; his amazing youthful accomplishments in his own country and abroad and his meteoric rise to fame culminated in his appointment as the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s Music Director last season. He has impressed New York audiences conducting not only his Venezuelan Youth Orchestra (which he has been leading for eleven years and is now replicating in Los Angeles), but also great orchestras like the New York Philharmonic, and his appearances are always eagerly anticipated. The Vienna Philharmonic’s concerts were no exception.

 The three romantic masterpieces on the final program: Brahms’ “Tragic Overture,” Schumann’s Cello Concerto, and Dvorák’s “New World” Symphony, seemed a perfect choice for displaying Dudamel’s boundless energy, exuberance, and involvement. And indeed his performance of the Brahms was full of promise: noble, somber and austere, it struck a fine balance between passion and restraint, intensity and release. There were no extremes of tempo or dynamics, none of the whispering and crashing of the Vienna Philharmonic’s earlier Beethoven program.

 If anyone whispered, it was Yo-Yo Ma in the Schumann. Of all the great cello concertos, this is perhaps the least soloistic; it feels less like a showpiece than a conversation between soloist and orchestra. Emphasizing its intimacy, inwardness, and the poetic, almost spoken quality of its phrasing and melodic rise and fall, Ma interacted closely with the concertmaster and with the principal cellist in their slow movement duet. Unfortunately, his best intentions were defeated by the size of Carnegie Hall; his playing had all its customary beauty, variety and expressiveness, but his tone was often lost in the large space. Nevertheless, he received a standing ovation, and, after embracing the conductor and as many members of the orchestra as he could reach, notably the principal cellist, he returned to play the first movement of Bach’s G-major solo Suite.

The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra Led by Gustavo Dudamel in Stern Auditorium/Perelman Stage with featuring artist Lang Lang. Photo Credit - Chris Lee

 

If the Brahms, with its avoidance of exaggeration, had brought out the best in Dudamel, the Dvorák did the opposite. Everything was excessive and overdone. There was no whispering, but plenty of crashing; this must have been the loudest “New World” within memory. The sound was so thick that many important melodic and harmonic details were lost; the build-ups were so precipitous that climaxes were often reached long before their time. The temptation to draw maximal sound from a great orchestra must be irresistible to a conductor, especially a young firebrand; Dudamel seemed to be unleashing the elemental forces of nature. His conducting style is marked by an almost unremitting tension; he seems like a taut wire, physically and emotionally. Conducting from memory, his gestures were angular and stabbing, producing lots of aggressive accents, or large and sweeping, producing great masses of sound. The result was a “New World” Symphony long on drama, intensity and drive, short on lyricism and repose. The audience responded with the sort of screaming associated with rock stars rather than classical conductors; the encore, the Waltz from Bernstein’s Divertimento, was blessedly quiet.

Though it is true that Dvorák’s “American” works were influenced by native American idioms, his own native Czech idiom is never far away; in fact, his music seemed to get increasingly Czech as he became more homesick. If he had lived long enough to hear the words “Going home” later added to the English horn melody in the “New World” Symphony’s slow movement (played beautifully at this concert), he might have felt that they echoed his own sentiments.  

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Musica de Camara String Orchestra

Musica de Camara String Orchestra
Roselin Pabón, conductor
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY
September 25, 2010

Musica de Camara String Orchestra

Musica de Camara was established 31 years ago by the Puerto Rican soprano Eva de la O with a mission to present Hispanic music and musicians in concert. The organization has given several hundred performances in famous venues such as Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center, and in educational institutions, community centers and churches, for audiences who rarely have an opportunity to hear classical music.
This concert presented the Musica de Camara String Orchestra in a program by Spanish and Latin American composers. The Orchestra, founded in 2008, grew out of a smaller chamber ensemble formed several years earlier to give concerts in New York City’s public schools. The present group of about 30 players has continued this commitment, and recently added lecture demonstrations on various aspects of music to its educational activities.
The members of the Orchestra constitute a veritable United Nations. Though they live and rehearse in New York City, they trace their heritage to many countries, including Yugoslavia, Korea, China, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela. For their concerts, they invite guest conductors. This performance was directed by the Puerto Rican Maestro Roselin Pabón, for 30 years Associate Musical Director of the Puerto Rico Symphony Orchestra, Musical Director of the Conservatorio de Musica, San Juan, and a frequent guest with orchestras in Europe and North and South America.
The players, all aspiring soloists, are young, serious, and committed to music; some are still pursuing advanced studies. For example, the assistant concertmistress, Nicole Leon, studies with Itzhak Perlman at the Juilliard School. Their playing was a bit tentative, but time and more performing experience will give them sufficient self-confidence to throw restraint and caution to the wind and give free rein to their natural, youthful involvement and enthusiasm. Concertmaster Francisco Salazar, principal second violinist Luis Casal, principal violist Edmundo Ramirez, and principal cellist Veronica Parrales played a number of solos with vibrancy and aplomb, indicating the group’s high level of talent.
The program opened with Fuga Criolla, a substantial, classical-style Fugue by Juan D. Plaza (1921-1965) from Venezuela. Of the two Danzas Concertantes by Xavier Montsalvatge (1912-2002) from Spain, the slow one had an American, the fast one a Spanish flavor. Aruán Ortiz (b. 1967) from Cuba was present to hear his Perla Caribena; its leisurely melodiousness gave the players a chance to make their instruments sing, as did the lush, sonorous Canambu by Eduardo Gamboa (b. 1953) from Mexico. The Suite for Strings, Op. 115, by Blas E. Atehortua (b. 1943) from Colombia had two fast movements: a rollicking “Scherzo a la valse” and a rhythmic, pungent Finale. Puerto Rico was represented by two composers: Jack Delano (1914-1997), whose Sinfonietta for Strings had a lyrical slow movement and a cheerful fast one, and Guillermo Figueroa (1892-1962), the earliest-born composer on the program, whose Puerto Rican Rhapsody on Themes of Rafael Hernández caressed the ear with its flowing melodies and old-style harmonies. Finally, Michelangelo 70 by the great Argentinean composer Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992), orchestrated by Carlos Rengifo, made a rousing finale, eliciting a standing ovation from the large audience, which had been showing great appreciation throughout the concert. Maestro Pabón responded with an encore: a Puerto Rican Danza, Sara, arranged by Guillermo Figueroa which Johann Strauss could have written on a Puerto Rican vacation.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Renée Fleming and Dmitri Hvorostovsky: A Musical Odyssey in St. Petersburg

Great Performances
Renée Fleming and Dmitri Hvorostovsky: A Musical Odyssey in St. Petersburg
Telecast on PBS Channel 13, September 1, 2010

 This “Odyssey” was a feast for eyes and ears. Viewers were guided by the American soprano Renée Fleming on walks through St. Petersburg’s streets and squares and on boat rides on its canals, and were also invited into the magnificent Czarist Winter Palace, Peterhof Palace and Yusupov Palace, in whose glittering theaters and ballrooms Fleming and the Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky presented concerts of songs and operatic scenes.

The music was mostly Russian, but began with duets from two Verdi operas: “Il Trovatore” and “Simone Boccanegra.” The confrontation between Count Luna and Leonora in the former presaged the vocal and emotional intensity that infused the whole program, but stopped before the climactic moment when Leonora secretly drains the poison in her ring, though Fleming actually wore a ring that looked as if it had been chosen for that purpose. The recognition scene between Boccanegra and Amelia in the latter depicts the unexpected reunion of a father with his long-lost daughter; it was an outpouring of joy and love.

 The program closed with the final scene from Tchaikovsky’s “Eugene Onegin,” an opera the two singers have performed together at the Metropolitan Opera to great acclaim, and have made their signature collaboration. For this, they used the host palace’s lay-out: the camera followed Hvorostovsky as he hurried up the wide, regal staircase to make his entrance, every inch the impatient lover.

 Needless to say, the singing was wonderful. The performers entered so deeply into their roles that they were able to immediately establish an atmosphere and create real characters, without scenery, props or costumes, using only their voices and personalities. Even if one did not understand the words or know the operas, one could guess what they were singing about. The State Hermitage Orchestra under Constantine Orbellian accompanied them with care and sensitivity, but sounded too discreet and distant.

 Alternating in songs by Rachmaninov, Rimsky-Korsakov, Medtner and Tchaikovsky, the singers adjusted their voices admirably to fit a smaller, more intimate room. Fleming was partnered by the Russian pianist Olga Kern, who recently won the Van Cliburn Competition, Hvorostovsky by his regular pianist, Ivan Ilja. The Bechstein piano they used looked and sounded beautiful. Again, music proved to be the best ambassador and bridge-builder between nations.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Armida (1817)

Great Performances at the MET

Armida (1817)
Music by Gioachino Rossini (1792-1864)
Libretto by Giovanni Schmidt
Production: Mary Zimmerman
Conductor: Ricardo Frizza
Choreographer: Graciela Daniele
Set & costume designer: Richard Hudson
Armida: Renée Fleming
Rinaldo: Lawrence Brownlee
Goffredo: John Osborn
Gernanco: José Manuel Zapata
Carlo: Barry Banks
Ubaldo: Kobie van Rensburg
Telecast on Channel 13 PBS: August 18, 2010

Armida- Renee Fleming and Lawrence Brownlee- Photo: Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera

“Armida” is one of Rossini’s less familiar operas. It requires not only a soprano who combines dramatic power with brilliant coloratura, but includes no fewer than six tenor roles (shared in this production by five singers) demanding a stratospheric range, bel canto lyricism and ringing heroics. No wonder it is so rarely performed. Created for Renée Fleming at her request, this new MET production was a vocal and visual bonanza.

The story takes place during the Crusades, but evokes legends of earlier times. Princess Armida is a beautiful sorceress who lures men to her magic island (think Circe) and holds them captive in her luxurious palace (think Venus’ Mountain), entertaining them with music and dancing. This offers opportunities for spectacular scenery and ballet sequences, first by a group of demons with horns and long tails, then by wave upon wave of gorgeously costumed dancers. Armida finds the crusading knights easy prey, but falls in love with Rinaldo, the army’s general, when he succumbs to her spell. He has to be extricated by fervent appeals to duty and honor – unlike Tannhäuser, who abandons Venus because he has become bored – leaving Armida devastated.

The opera begins with a dark, ominous Overture notable for its colorful woodwind solos, performed most impressively by the principal players. Generally, though, the music is not top-level Rossini in invention or originality; indeed, whenever an arresting passage emerges, it bears a definite resemblance to “The Barber of Seville.” The vocal lines are designed primarily for maximal technical display with brilliant, florid ornamentation, not for melodic beauty or delineation of character. Armida, of course, gets the lion’s (or lioness’) share of pyrotechnics, but the tenors are not far behind: they seem to vie for the top notes and most spectacular coloratura. One might almost call the opera “The Battle of the Tenors,” and in fact one of them soon slays another (over an insult, not the highest note).

The singing in this performance was truly stunning. Renée Fleming, whose physical beauty made her a very convincing seductress, sometimes seemed a bit overwhelmed by the sheer length and intensity of her role, but sang with enormous virtuosity and abandon. The tenors dispatched their vocal fireworks with incredible bravura; Lawrence Brownlee made a real character of Rinaldo, the most demanding role musically and dramatically.

For these telecasts, the MET invites one of its stars to introduce the opera, and also to interview one or more of the principals during intermission. This requires stopping tired cast members on their way to the dressing room and subjecting them to usually inane questions about their feelings for the role they are performing – an imposition on the singers, who clearly yearn to be left alone, rest their voices and concentrate on the next act. Fleming could hardly contain her impatience to get away, though, although in an earlier telecast, she herself had interviewed Simon Keenlyside, a hot and weary “Hamlet,” who was reacting in exactly the same way. Could these interviews not be taped at some time other than during the performance? Though this might cause some loss of immediacy, it would save the singers – and many empathetic viewers – a lot of discomfort.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Mostly Mozart Festival

Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra
Louis Langrée, conductor
Joshua Bell, violin
Jeremy Denk, piano
Pre-Concert Recital: Joshua Bell and Jeremy Denk
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
August 18, 2010

 

Joshua Bell-Photo credit: Bill Phelps

This No-Mozart, all-Romantic program was one of the Festival’s best. It opened with Weber’s Overture to the opera Der Freischütz and closed with Schumann’s Symphony in D minor No. 4, Op. 120, in the revised 1851 version. In between, Joshua Bell, Jeremy Denk and the Orchestra’s string section played Mendelssohn’s Concerto for Violin, Piano and Strings in D minor, the second Festival program featuring two major works in the same tonality. Written when the composer was 14 years old, the Concerto is not top-notch Mendelssohn and is only infrequently performed, but it is full of youthful romanticism, exuberance, and the promise of future greatness. The soloists reveled in the brilliant passage-work, alone and together, tossing off the long runs in parallel thirds with easy virtuosity and perfect coordination; Bell’s pure, expressive tone cast a silvery radiance over the lovely melodies. The Orchestra, under-employed except for the Introduction, offered discreet support, and everybody had a grand time.

The performance of the Weber and Schumann indicated that Langrée harbors a romantic soul under his penchant for cool, speedy, almost vibratoless Mozart. He encouraged the musicians to surrender to the passionate ardor of the music using their warmest, most intense sound, and they responded whole-heartedly. The Overture overflowed with vigorous energy without getting hectic; the strings sang out, the wind solos were wonderful (those Freischütz horns!).

Schumann cast his fourth Symphony in his favorite “Fantasy” form, with its four contrasting movements  melting into each other. Originally composed in 1841, it was actually his second symphony, but its negative reception caused him to put it aside. Ten years later, having written two more symphonies, he revised it, refining the transitions between the movements and adding a lot of doubling to the orchestration – a decision that has remained controversial: the texture gains substance but loses transparency. Langrée used the second version; while he could not save the sound from becoming murky at times, its richness made up for the lack of clarity, and he brought out the character and changing moods of the music: the vitality of the fast sections, the poetry and romanticism of the slow ones, the assertive robustness of the Scherzo.

Mozart visited his Festival at the Pre-Concert recital, when Joshua Bell and Jeremy Denk played his “big” B-flat Major Sonata K.454, written in 1784, the first of his last three great violin and piano sonatas. Though Avery Fisher Hall is hardly the best place for intimate chamber music, the performance was admirable. Frequent partners, the two players have achieved an extraordinarily high level of ensemble; they took over each others’ lines, calibrating the sound for relative prominence, built on each others’ dynamics, tonal and expressive intensity, and created a true “conversation between friends.” Their subtle interplay was even more impressive than their dazzling collaborative virtuosity in the Mendelssohn Concerto. 

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Mostly Mozart Festival

Mostly Mozart Festival
Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra
Osmo Vänskä, conductor
Antti Siirala, pianist
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
August 14, 2010

Osmo Vanska-Photo Credit: Greg Helgeson

This concert was not only all-Mozart, but all dramatic, minor mode Mozart. It featured two guests from Finland: conductor Osmo Vänskä, a familiar presence at the Festival, and the young pianist Antti Siirala in his New York orchestral debut.

The program presented two symphonies rarely performed together: the “little” G minor Symphony, No. 25 K.183, written in 1773, and the “big” G minor Symphony, No. 40 K.550, the second of his three great final symphonies, all written in the summer of 1788. Mozart reserved the key of G minor for some of his most dramatic and most moving works, such as the String Quintet K.516. These two Symphonies share both characteristics, but, composed 15 years apart, are also very different.

The disparities are apparent from the beginning. The first movement of No. 25 is all energy and impetuosity, and while the second theme, in major, is playful and gracious, its return in minor is dark and ominous. The first movement of No. 40 has a pensive resignation, occasionally pierced by a surge of defiance or a ray of hope. The slow movements of both symphonies are in major modes. The early one, based on a single theme, is calm and simple; the later one is contrapuntal and complex; its initial repose is disrupted by wrenching dissonances. The Minuet of No. 25 is a rustic dance, that of No. 40 is weighed down with heavy cross-rhythms; both have genial Trios in G major. The Finales are fast, with avalanches of relentlessly rushing passages.

These symphonies were well suited to Vänskä’s active, emphatic conducting style. Visually, he was in perpetual motion, bowing, twisting and turning, stabbing the air with his baton; musically, it was reflected in dramatic overkill, slashing accents and extreme dynamic contrasts, which made the early Symphony seem anything but little. For the late Symphony, all conductors – and Mozart lovers – have their own interpretation. Väskä took a surging approach to the opening theme, with sea-sickness-inducing swells, not indicated in the score, in every pair of bars. His tempi were generally moderate compared to the hectic speeds often favored today; only the Finale of No. 40 was a headlong rush.

Mozart wrote only two piano concertos in minor keys; the program included the first, K.466, written in 1785, in D minor, another tonality associated with high drama (think of Don Giovanni and the Requiem). The Concerto is characterized by strong contrasts of dynamics, mood, texture, and confrontations rather than interplay between soloist and orchestra. The unusually extensive orchestral exposition begins with mysterious, syncopated murmurings in the low strings, terminated by a thunderous eruption by the full orchestra. The pianist enters, like a lone wanderer, with a new, gentle, pleading theme followed by rippling scale-passages, and continues to go his own way. The slow movement begins as a serene song in major, but the peacefulness is shattered by an outburst of running piano triplets in minor, driven by shrilling woodwinds. Calm is restored at the end, but turbulence runs high in the Finale, until the Coda turns to D major for what might seem a happy ending, but in fact feels like an attempt to ward off deep sadness.   

Siirala, winner of many European prizes, is an excellent, admirably self-effacing but communicative pianist. Putting his consummate technique entirely at the service of the music, he played with inward expressiveness, refinement and restraint; though careful not to exaggerate, he rose to the dramatic climaxes, including the long, elaborate, stormy cadenzas by Beethoven (who also wrote cadenzas for Mozart’s other dramatic Piano Concerto in C minor). The orchestra provided strong, empathetic support.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Mostly Mozart Festival

Mostly Mozart Festival
Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra
Lionel Bringuier, conductor
David Fray, piano
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
August 6, 2010

Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra-Lionel Bringuier, conductor-David Fray, piano - Photo Credit Richard Termine

This was one of the Festival’s All-Mozart programs: the Overture to “Cosi fan tutte” K.588, the Piano Concerto in E-flat major, No. 22, K.482, and the “Prague” Symphony, No. 38, K. 504. As it often does, the Festival presented two very young guests, both from France: conductor Lionel Bringuier and pianist David Fray in his Mostly Mozart debut.

The program’s opening and closing works were bright and spirited, though each started with a slow, solemn Introduction. The opera “Cosi fan tutte” is considered a comedy, but its humor is laced with sarcasm and leavened with ambivalence and regret. The Overture heralds these conflicting emotions. The Introduction alternates orchestral chords with an oboe solo so plaintive that the arrival of the Overture’s fast main part almost comes as a surprise. In the Symphony, too, the Introduction, the longest and perhaps most dramatic in all Mozart’s symphonies, generates a sense of such dark foreboding that the sudden shift from D minor to D major is quite disconcerting. The Symphony is unusual in having only three movements: two fast, sprightly ones framing a lovely Andante.

E-flat major seems to have been Mozart’s favorite tonality for his most mellow, lyrical music. Among his Piano Concertos, No. 22 is one of the most heavenly. The scoring for a full complement of winds gives it a rich, warm sound. Its emotional depth is immediately established in the orchestral Introduction; the piano then takes up and embellishes the themes. The second movement, variations in C minor, is a heart-breaking lament, and the final Rondo, like many others in that key, is a merry hunting song. But Mozart has a surprise in store: its central episode is virtually another slow movement, presenting entirely new, ravishingly lovely material in a stately, back-and-forth conversation between the soloist and the woodwind “Harmonie” section, who played absolutely beautifully.

David Fray, though still in his twenties, is the recipient of an extraordinary number of performing and recording awards, and has played in practically every great European concert hall. He made his American debut with the Cleveland Orchestra in 2009, and has also appeared with the orchestras of Boston, San Francisco, New York and Los Angeles. His performance at this concert was most excellent, without fuss, show, or exaggeration; his technique is always at the service of the music and so effortless that one forgets about it; his tone can be both delicate and sonorous; his expressiveness is concentrated and deeply felt.

The Festival Orchestra is in splendid form. The players not only sound good under every conductor, they are undaunted by their maestros’ sometimes exorbitant demands. On this occasion, Lionel Bringuier – who, at the age of 23, seems to have been everywhere and done everything in the conducting world – drove them beyond all reasonable speed-limits. He took the Overture at a tempo that made clear articulation and phrasing impossible; in the Symphony’s corner movements, musical and expressive details were lost in the head-long rush. If this sounds much like the report on the previous concert, that is not surprising: it sometimes seems as if many of today’s young conductors (and young instrumentalists too, for that matter) are determined to outdo one another in setting new speed-records. Surely even in the jet-age there is more to music than playing as fast as possible. 

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

“Der Rosenkavalier” and “Turandot” Great Performances at the MET

“Der Rosenkavalier” and “Turandot”
Great Performances at the MET
Lincoln Center/PBS Telecasts, New York, NY

Lincoln Center and PBS are repeating some of their popular telecasts from the MET, giving audiences a chance to retrieve what they missed or to revisit what they enjoyed. On July 29, the opera was “Der Rosenkavalier” by Richard Strauss and his renowned librettist, Hugo von Hoffmansthal, taped at the January 9, 2010 performance. Through its earthy humor and touching love story, this beloved masterpiece never fails to elicit laughter and tears, and with a stellar cast and Edo de Waart replacing James Levine in the pit, it exerted its usual irresistible magic spell. 

“Der Rosenkavalier” is too well known to require any introduction or explanation, so let us focus on the performance. The orchestra, an essential, integral element in all Strauss operas, sounded absolutely wonderful, both in the many solo passages and as a whole: rich yet transparent, ironically pompous, yet with a graceful Viennese lilt. The singing, too, was beyond praise: Renée Fleming and Susan Graham returned to their signature roles as the Marschallin and Octavian; Christine Schäfer soared easily into Sophie’s ecstatic heights, her voice as silvery as her Rose; Kristinn Sigmundsson displayed a booming, sonorous bass, and an almost authentic Viennese accent. Thomas Allen was a solid Faninal, Eric Cutler, in his all-too-brief appearance, sounded radiant as the Italian tenor.

The sets and costumes had the beauty and elegance of a period painting; the final scene was the usual chaos, saved by the Waltzes in the orchestra. The least satisfying aspect of the production was the acting, with exaggeration rampant everywhere, even in the small roles (Sophie’s Duenna ran around the stage frantically flapping her arms). Fleming, though essentially warm and dignified, perhaps overshot in trying to bring out the Marschallin’s swiftly-changing moods by going from girlish flirtatiousness with the Baron to inexplicable anger when dismissing Octavian. The “trouser” role of Octavian poses a double challenge: a woman pretending to be a boy pretending to be a girl. Graham had fun, but would have been more persuasive without the overacting. (Television’s facial close-ups are cruel: even she could not successfully pretend to be 17- years-old.) The temptation to exaggerate is greatest for the Baron, but Sigmundsson, a huge man who towered over everybody, turned him into an insufferable, overbearing lecher.

Schäfer seemed the only one who acted with unaffected dignity, true to her character’s artlessness and naïveté. Just how effective natural simplicity can be was illustrated in the first encounter between Octavian and Sophie. Standing perfectly still, they expressed their wonder at the magical experience of first love only through their voices. The scene was an unspoiled oasis of subtle interaction, genuine inwardness and calm.

On June 24th, PBS repeated its telecast of Puccini’s “Turandot,” taped at the November 7, 2009, performance conducted by Andris Nelsons. This was a surprising choice for a replay: the opera is hardly among the public’s favorites, nor among Puccini’s best works. He left it unfinished, but that is not its only, or even its primary, weakness. The music is repetitious and uninspired, and its pseudo-Chinese idiom sounds inauthentic and artificial; moreover, the leading soprano and tenor parts are virtually unsingable: Turandot makes her entrance with a very long, excruciatingly difficult, stratospheric scene; Calaf sings two of the most brutally demanding arias in the repertoire. Very few singers are equal to these roles, and in this performance, too, there were unmistakable signs of struggle. Maria Guleghina’s voice had a very wide wobble, and both she and Marcello Giordani had only one dynamic: fortissimo. The real stars were Marina Poplavskaya as a sweet-voiced, touching Liu, and Samuel Ramey as a dignified, pitiable Timur. The famously spectacular Franco Zefferelli production still upstages the music with its massive scenery, gorgeous costumes and surging crowd-scenes. Sometimes it seemed as if the entire population of the Forbidden City of Beijing had gathered on the stage.

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY

Mostly Mozart Festival

Mostly Mozart Festival
Opening Night Gala Program
Avery Fisher Hall, New York, NY
July 28, 2010

Stephanie Blythe, mezzo-soprano with Louis Langrée - Photo Credit Richard Termine

This is the Mostly Mozart Festival’s 44th season – an impressive display of longevity and resilience. It has weathered many internal and external changes that affected its programming strategy, and this year’s programs reflect some of them: they range from All-Mozart to Mostly Mozart, Some Mozart, A Little Mozart, and No Mozart At All.

Mozart is featured in its opening and closing concerts: the latter will be All-Mozart and the former began and ended with Mozart, the Overture to La Clemenza di Tito and the “Haffner” Symphony, K.385. In between came Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor Op. 21, played by Emanuel Ax, and arias from Handel’s Giulio Cesare and Gluck’s Orfeo ed Euridice, sung by mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe. Louis Langrée, the Festival’s Music Director, conducted the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra. 

Most of the Orchestra’s musicians have been with the Festival for many seasons, but do not play together regularly all year; they must recapture and refine their ensemble every summer. Also, this is a chamber group rather than a symphony orchestra, so it lacks the power needed for some of the symphonic literature. For this program, however, it was just right, and it was immediately clear that it is in fine shape, able and eager to carry out its Maestro’s wishes. Langrée is an elegant conductor, though his arm-gestures make him look as if he were going to fly off at any moment, an impression accentuated by the full-sleeved shirts he wears. His style tends toward extremes of dynamics and tempo: the pianos are almost inaudible, the fortes are eruptions that shake the rafters. He likes to hear lots of winds and percussion, putting the strings at a serious disadvantage. The opening of the Overture, for example, was explosive rather than majestic. In the Symphony, the tempi were so fast that the music lost all charm and expressiveness; even the slow movement was very brisk, and the Finale raced past in a blur. 

 

Pianist Emanuel Ax with the conductor Louis Langrée - Photo Credit Richard Termine

In the Concerto, Langrée succeeded so well in keeping the orchestra from covering the soloist that, at times, the piano part seemed to float in mid-air without harmonic or rhythmic support. Ax’s playing, however, was superb. His tone was invariably beautiful, the legato sang, the chords were powerful but mellow; the runs were as clear and even as chains of pearls. His liberties—spontaneous and perfectly balanced—made the music flow as naturally as words spoken in a native idiom. The tumultuous ovation was rewarded with a brief Chopin encore. 

Stephanie Blythe’s voice is formidable: it can cut through and float above an orchestra, reaching the farthest corners of an auditorium. Its quality is unique, resembling dark amber in the low register, bright amber up high; by varying her vibrato, she commands an amazing range of intensity, color and nuance. The arias she sang were taken from two of her signature roles. Cesar’s prayer was devoutly thankful and supplicating; Orpheus’ lament was perhaps not heart-broken enough, but spun out a seamless melody. The famous opening aria from Handel’s Serse (better known as Handel’s “Largo”) as an encore was beautiful. 

This was a most promising start to New York’s favorite summer festival.  Welcome back, Mostly Mozart!

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by Edith Eisler  for New York Concert Review; New York, NY