Opera Today

David Gockley on Selling Tickets

David Gockley

...While He Practiced Pragmatism

By HEIDI WALESON [Wall Street Journal, 16 June 05]

When David Gockley became business manager at the Houston Grand Opera in 1970, the company, like most regional troupes in the U.S. at the time, was doing "instant opera." "There was a guy in north Jersey who had acquired all these old painted drops from Europe," Mr. Gockley recalls. "He would rent out a generic 'Tosca' or 'Trovatore.' They came in bags — you stretched the drops on frames." There was no rehearsal period — singers arrived, performed and left. Mr. Gockley became HGO's general director in 1972 and immediately changed all that. One of his first productions was "The Marriage of Figaro," with specially designed sets, a director, and a three-week rehearsal period. "We had a nice cast, including the young Frederica von Stade as Cherubino," says Mr. Gockley. It cost more than instant opera, but it paid off.

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Rossini's La gazzeta at the Liceu

Scene from La gazzeta (Photo: Gran Teatre del Liceu)

Darío Fo adapta para el Liceu una ópera olvidada de Rossini

El Nobel italiano "saquea" la 'comedia dell'arte' para lograr la escenografía de 'La gazetta'

JOSé OLIVA/BARCELONA [El Correo Digital, 15 June 05]

El dramaturgo y premio Nobel de Literatura italiano Dario Fo confesó ayer que ha "saqueado" a Rossini y la tradición de la 'comedia dell'arte' para hacer la escenografía de la ópera 'La gazzeta' del compositor italiano, que el Liceo barcelonés estrenará el próximo día 20. 'La gazzeta' narra la historia de don Pomponio, que quiere casar a su hija con el mejor partido. Para ello, inserta un anuncio en el diario en el que hace un elogio ditirámbico. Aunque la obra estaba llamada a tener éxito, la escasa promoción propició, segun Fo, que no recibiera el interés del publico cuando se estrenó en Nápoles en 1816.

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Immortal Fire: Music for Female Saints

Immortal Fire: Music for Female Saints
The Girl Choristers and Lay Clerks of Winchester Cathedral.
Sarah Baldock, Director; Andrew Lumsden, Organist.
Griffin GCCD 4049 [CD]

The recording "Immortal Fire" presents a varied anthology of music for female saints, excellently sung by the Girl Choristers and Lay Clerks of Winchester Cathedral under the direction of Sarah Baldock. Much of the music is Marian, with additional pieces in honor of St. Cecilia, St. Margaret of Scotland, and St. Ursula. Some of the works are highly familiar — Britten's youthful "A Hymn to the Virgin," and his popular setting of Auden's "A Hymn to St. Cecilia" for instance — and the performances seem familiar, as well. As the pieces are canonical within the cathedral repertory, so too are the interpretations, sung with polish and high accomplishment, but few surprises. However, other works are new or less familiar. For example, Judith Bingham's "Margaret, Forsaken," a work commemorating Margaret of Scotland, was commissioned for this recording. The composer's imaginative use of patterned repetition and ornamental organ effects are evocative of a North Sea moodiness, and the choir responds with an impressive reading that is both intense and dramatic. Herbert Howells — never far from the cathedral choir folder--is represented by two works, a "Hymn for St. Cecilia" and a "Salve Regina." The former is an expansive hymn tune with a wonderfully uplifting descant to its final verse. The "Salve" is an early work whose chordal gestures are reminiscent of Vaughan Williams, but in the main it is a work showing the developing harmonic fingerprints of Howells' musical signature, with sweet dissonant propensities and chromatic inflection. Howells graces the concluding acclamations with a memorable treble solo — the embodiment of the text's "dulcis" — gracefully sung by Tempe Nell.

Much to its credit, "Immortal Fire" has been put together with welcome attention to variety of program. Two large-scale organ works on Marian themes, Flor Peeters' somewhat predictable "Toccata, Fugue and Hymn on Ave maris stella" and Marcel Dupré's improvisational "Magnificat" with chant in alternatim, are interspersed among the motets and anthems to good effect, and they are played with flair by Andrew Lumsden. Also intertwined among the vocal polyphony are several monophonic antiphons by Hildegard of Bingen. The choir seems decidedly less at home with these chants than with the other works; the rhapsodic nature of the lines are constrained here into a business-like rush, showing neither the pieces nor the singers to their best advantage.

Dame Gwyneth Jones sings Wagner
Westdeutsche Rundfunk Orchestra of Cologne, Roberto Paternostro (cond.)
Chandos CHAN 10286 X [CD]

This CD is a digital remastering of an original 1991 recording of Gwyneth Jones in selections from Tannhäuser, Lohengrin, Tristan und Isolde and Götterdämmerung. Jones was (and is) one of the great interpreters of Wagner, and the release of this CD is a welcome event, not only to her many friends, but all of us who are fascinated by the interpretation of Wagner's works. The recording is clearly meant to serve as a recorded monument to her artistry. Unfortunately, the CD is marred by many problems that make it less than satisfactory.

As we might expect, the sound engineers for this CD elected to foreground Jones's voice. But they also chose to "iron out" the dynamics, so that the fortes are attenuated and the pianos are amplified. Forte and piano, we might say, are no longer indicators of volume, but rather of color. This has the effect of diminishing the differences between Jones's interpretations of the individual heroines: Elsa and Isolde sound quite similar. Only in a few passages, such as the beginning of Elizabeth's prayer or the end of Brünnhilde's immolation scene, do we get a clear sense of Jones's distinctive approach to these characters.

Sound engineers might also be responsible for the quality of the orchestral sound, which is generally cold, thin, and overly bright. Part of this, however, must be laid at the door of the conductor. Paternostro goes a long way toward making Wagner's music sound banal. This reviewer found Paternostro's interpretation of the Tristan prelude (paired, as we might expect, with the Liebestod) to be the low point of the entire CD. His rather metronomic approach to the score deprives the performance of the sense of large-scale development that is so essential in Wagner. The tempi are rather quick, but somehow the performances seem too long.

One of the most distinctive things about Dame Gwyneth's voice is her approach to vibrato. She often begins a long note without any vibrato at all, adding it quickly in what we might think of as an idiomatic version of the classic mezza di voce. This can be a thrilling effect, but too often, the initial attack is under pitch. Jones's approach sometimes sounds mannered, particularly in the upper part of her range. In other sections, however, the effect is absolutely magical. The opening and the final passages of the Liebestod, for instance, are ravishing. Jones sings the final note in a bell-like pianissimo, without any trace of vibrato at all, producing what can only be called a sonic emblem of transfiguration.

The total time of this CD is only a bit over 55 minutes, and a few of the Wagnerian soprano chestnuts are missing. I would have particularly enjoyed hearing Dame Gwyneth sing Senta's ballad from Der fliegende Holländer and "Der Männer Sippe" from Die Walküre (they are absent from this CD). Despite its inadequacies, this recording is an important document of what is surely one of the great Wagnerian voices of the late twentieth century.

Dr. Stephen Meyer
Syracuse University

RESPIGHI: La Campana sommersa

Ottorino Respighi: La Campana sommersa (The Sunken Bell)
Laura Aikin (soprano), John Daszak (tenor), Rodericke Earle (bass), Kevin Conners (tenor).
Orchestre National de Montpellier et Choeur Opéra Junior, Friedemann Layer (cond.).
Accord 2 CD 476 1884 [3CDs]

Ottorino Respighi (1879-1936) is known best in the United States for his tone poems, including the Pines of Rome, the Fountains of Rome, and Roman Festivals, and, perhaps for some of his suites of early music, like the sets of Ancient Airs and Dances that reflect his detailed orchestrations. During his lifetime, however, his operas were known, and they include Re Enzo (1905); Semirama (1910); Belfagor (1921-22); La bella dormente nel bosco (1916-21); La campana sommersa (The Sunken Bell) (1923-27); Maria Egiziaca (1929-31); La Fiamma (1931-33); Lucrezia (1935). It is unfortunate that recordings of these works are somewhat rare, but that is quickly remedied by the recent issue of La campana sommersa on the Accord label.

This opera is a mature work of Respighi, and it contains the unmistakable orchestral writing that is familiar in his instrumental works. From the outset, the style is clear, with gestures that can only be attributed to Respighi. When the voices enter, the instrumental element gives way to the voices, which are supported by the full orchestra and never obscured. The vocal lines are nonetheless idiomatic and reflect the Verismo style of the period, echoing, perhaps, some of the motivically oriented style found in Puccini's Turandot. La campana sommersa is also paced well, and the scenes succeed fluidly, with each act following the other satisfactorily. There is never a perfunctory moment or stilted passage. Rather, the musical logic takes the listener through the work, with the musical narrative supporting the libretto seamlessly.

As to the story, La campana sommersa refers to the sunken bell at the crux of the plot that hinges upon the intersection of worlds of humans and fairies. The bell-maker Enrico's magnificent creation is at a certain point submerged in a lake, and this element forces the dénouement of the work. In facing the decision to choose between his wife, Magda and the elf Rautendelein, Enrico makes a decision that changes his life and the world around them. The libretto is a fable that resembles, in some ways, Dvorak's Russalka, where the power of love must overcome the differences that separate entire worlds of being. Either story may be regarded as a fable, and each also involves fairy-tale elements that create surrealistic settings.

The similarity between those two operas differs, though, since Respighi used some of the conventions of Verismo to set the text. The convention of set-pieces is absent from this score, as is the use of recitative to convey dialogue. As occurs in many traditional Verismo operas, the musical line is continuous, yet never completely declarmatory in its presentation of the sung text. Likewise, the orchestra does not merely accompany the work, but it helps in setting various scenes, as occurs at the beginning of the opera, which is supposed to occur in a meadow. In the next scene, when the bell-maker Enrico is lost, the orchestral passage before he sings "O buona gente" helps to depict the situation, with its repeated, unresolved motives preceding the character's declaration of being lost.

Yet the aesthetic idiom of Verismo, with its ideal of presenting true-to-life drama in contrast to the unrealistic idiom that became the domain of opera in the late nineteenth century, exists at odds with the Maeterlinck-like story of La campana sommersa. If nothing else, Respighi's use of some conventions of Verismo opera helps to convey a contemporary sensibility to the work. In doing so, Respighi is looking backward at a "Once upon a time," but suggests a contemporary setting, as Puccini did in this opera Le Villy, another work that involves the tragic consequences when humans encounter the world of the fairies.

As to the music itself, no distinctive pieces emerge from the score as particularly noteworthy in the sense of some of Puccini's more famous numbers, like "Vissi d'arte" or "Nessum dorma." Those kinds of pieces can create points of reference within an opera yet they are not entirely necessary With La campana somersa, no such popular numbers survive. Yet it is worth hearing some of the sustained pieces like the second-act scene of the elfin character Rautendelein "Tu me piaci," in which she reveals something about her nature to human Enrico, whom she loves. Like the music with Enrico mentioned above ("O buona gente"), Rautendelein's scene is one of the points in the libretto that is structurally more a soliloquy than dialogue, and here Respighi uses the opportunity to great effect, since he creates a sympathetic otherworldly sense that makes it possible to understand Enrico's attraction for the elf.

Other aspects of the score deserve attention, not the least of which is the contrast that exists between the accepted paradigm of the modern world and the attraction for what may be termed the irrational, the fanciful, the old pagan beliefs in elves and other supernatural beings. This may be interpreted by some in Jungian terms, but it also provides a talented composer like Respighi with the opportunity to create a work that may be interpreted at different levels. The score is as convincing as any of Puccini's, and it reflects the kind of rich score that Respighi's contemporary Erich Wolfgang Korngold created in a work like Die Wunder der Heliane.

While it is unlikely that La campana sommersa may ever displace some of the existing pieces of Verismo literature, this recording makes accessible another work from the period and an excellent example of Respighi's craft as an opera composer. The live performance is vivid and intense, and the singers handle their roles convincingly. Laura Aikin is notable as Rautendelein, a role which involves some demanding technical work. She sings the role with ease and deft musicality. In conducting Respighi's sometimes full orchestrations, Friedemann Layer contributes balance and paces the work well. In all, La campana sommersa is a twentieth-century opera that deserves not only to be heard, but, as indicated by this fine performance, enjoyed.

James L. Zychowicz
Madison, Wisconsin

DONIZETTI: Elvida

Gaetano Donizetti's Elvida, recently issued by Opera Rara, is a perfect example. The composer's only one-act seria work has been criticized for its plot, and its score, especially the vocal lines, has been attacked as overly florid. Why, then, would a recording company with such dutiful care to historical integrity spend its time and money reviving it?

One can only be thankful that such a company exists, else gems like Elvida would lie amid the archival dust unperformed. A brief look at the opera's history (and the composer's career at the time of its composition) is instructive. Donizetti, still in the beginnings of his career, had come to Naples in 1822 just as Rossini was on his way to Vienna (unbeknownst to those in the Neapolitan arena, he had no plans to return). Donizetti was made director of one of the theaters and, although he accepted commissions from opera houses throughout Italy, Naples was to be the center of his compositional activities for nearly two decades. In the winter of 1826, just months before Elvida's July premiere, he had returned to Naples after a frustrating stint at the Teatro Carolina in Palermo, the second seat of the Bourbon Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. All of his "mature" works lay ahead.

An understanding of Elvida's commission is important, too. The one-act work was to be part of the celebrations of the birthday of Maria Isabella, wife of King Francesco I. At no time would Donizetti have assumed that the work would (or should) have had a future beyond the four performances — all part of the celebrations — it received. Thus, modern-day writers who have based their opinions of the work on the number of performances it received have missed the point. The only way for Donizetti to ensure a future for the work would have been to disassemble it and employ numbers in subsequent compositions (which he did — but for quite a different purpose). Elvida, a royal occasion piece, had served its purpose, which, by the way, was exactly the same as Rossini's spectacular Viaggio a Reims had just one year earlier for the coronation of Charles X of France.

And what of the libretto? One critic called it "hopeless" — "another dose of Moors in Spain." Its purpose, however, ably suggested in the Opera Rara liner notes, was an hommage to Maria Isabella. These were the Spanish Bourbons whose ancestors had vanquished the Moors. What better way to celebrate their heritage, especially at a time when revolution was a constant undercurrent in their reign, than to recall their glorious past? And what of that overly florid vocal style? In honor of the Neapolitan royals, some of the greatest singers in Italy were engaged for this production (again, exactly what Rossini did with Viaggio). Henriette Méric-Lalande (who would premiere four roles for Bellini) sang Elvida, the great Luigi Lablache performed Amur, and one of the most amazing tenors of the early nineteenth century, Giovanni Battista Rubini, created the role of Alfonso. Thus, the amazing pyrotechnics in the score were created specifically for them. Composers, of course, did that all the time during this period, but would one give any less to the monarchs in whose theaters one was hoping to remain active?

For the 1827 Naples premiere of his opera Le convenienze teatrali, Donizetti alluded to Elvida by having the opera company portrayed in the piece rehearse a work called Romolo and Ersilia; not only did the title resemble Elvida but so did the music. Again, critics assumed that Donizetti did it as a joke, in essence belittling what he must have thought an inferior piece; this would have been extraordinarily foolish since the Bourbons were still in power (indeed, the "birthday girl" Maria Isabella, then the Queen Mother, lived until 1848). Rather it was intended as an "in" reference which only Neapolitan audiences would have enjoyed for, by rights of the occasion for which it was composed, Elvida belonged to them.

Despite what twentieth-century writers thought of Elvida, the opera is a diminutive gem more than worthy of the treatment Opera Rara has given it. As usual, the Opera Rara cast (a familiar one) is excellent. Annick Massis as Elvida and Bruce Ford as Alfonso deal ably with the music composed with Méric-Lalande and Rubini in mind. Equally splendid are Jennifer Larmore in the "breeches" role as Zeidar, son of Amur, sung by Pietro Spagnoli. Supporting the main players are Anne-Marie Gibbons as Zulma and Ashley Catling as Ramiro. Antonello Allemandi's direction of the London Philharmonic is masterful. Although the entire recording is well worth the time to listen, certain cuts deserve attention. Massis' interpretation of the aria "A che me vuoi? che brami" is among them, as is the stretta in Massis and Larmore's duet "Sì grave è il tormento." Excellent ensembles include the trio "Invan, superba, invano" (Massis, Larmore, and Spagnoli) and the two-movement quartet "Deh! ti placa... Amur, mi rendi" and "L'empio cor che chiudi in petto" (Ford, Massis, Larmore, and Spagnoli). Massis and Ford's precision and exuberance in the work's final number, the rondo "Il cielo, in pria sdegnato" is breathtaking.

The score for Elvida was prepared by Christopher Moss (one might wish that the liner notes had identified his source, but we can assume it is the autograph in the archives of Naples' Teatro San Carlo, where the work premiered). Kudos to Opera Rara for the courage to continue shattering all of those prejudices that had previously excluded works like Elvida from revival.

Denise Gallo

image=http://www.operatoday.com/content/Elvida.jpg
image_description=Gaetano Donizetti: Elvida

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product_by=Pietro Spagnoli (Amur); Jennifer Lamore (Zeidar); Annick Massis (Elvida); Bruce Ford (Alfonso); Anne-Marie Gibbons (Zulma); Ashley Gatling (Ramiro). Geoffrey Mitchell Choir and the London Philharmonic Orchestra, Antonello Allemandi (cond.).
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The Midnight Court (Photo: Guntar Kravis)

The Muck of the Irish

By ROBERT EVERETT-GREEN [Globe and Mail, 11 June 05]

Banned in Ireland. The phrase still has some weight, at a time when talking about banning anything is to align yourself with dogmatic mullahs and evangelists. It's hard to imagine how Brian Merriman, living in an Irish hamlet in the late 18th century, managed to write a literary work shocking enough to be untouchable for nearly two centuries. But the satiric bite of his 1,000-line Gaelic poem The Midnight Court is still something to wonder at, and thanks to Toronto's Queen of Puddings Music Theatre, something to sing about as well.

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WEBER: Oberon

Oberon is an example of the Märchenoper, evoking on one hand the orientalism of Die Entführung aus dem Serail and on the other the fairy-tale fantasy of Die Zauberflöte. The opera even includes a chorus in which a chorus of slaves involuntarily dances to the music of a magic horn, much like Monastatos and his minions involuntarily dance to the music of Papageno's bells.

The opera contains a great deal of magnificent music, and is perhaps best known for the imaginative and coloristic musical gestures through which Weber creates the image of a fantastic medieval/Oriental world. Although the opera was frequently performed in the early and mid nineteenth century, it eventually fell out of the repertoire, in part because of insoluble problems with the plot. Weber wrote the opera for London, and the libretto (in English, by Planché) is a nearly incomprehensible mishmash of elements derived from Wieland's late eighteenth-century epic poem Oberon. There have been many attempts to overcome the inadequacies of the libretto: most of these have involved the composition of new recitatives to replace the original dialogue, or the insertion of various pieces from some of Weber's other operas. This recording dispenses with all of the added recitatives (and the dialogues as well), so that the opera appears as a series of largely disconnected musical numbers. This is probably a net gain for the work as a whole, for it has the effect of focusing attention on Weber's imaginative and coloristic music.

Even though the original language of the opera was English, Weber's Oberon has had far more performances in German, and that is the language in which the performances recorded on this set are sung. The main part of the set is a live recording of a concert performance from 1978, in which Eve Queler conducted the Opera Orchestra of New York. The set also includes five "bonus tracks" from a 1972 recording conducted by Rafael Kubelik (with Renè Kollo in the lead tenor role)

The OONY recording has all the advantages and drawbacks that go along with live performance. It is a record of what was surely an extraordinary evening, and in certain numbers (such as the third-act Rondo for the tenor "Ich juble in Gluck und Hoffnung neu!") the recording has the energy and excitement that is too often absent from studio sessions. But there are also distracting coughs during the overture, and (more importantly) a certain veiled quality to much of the orchestral sound. While the brass instruments that shine forth brightly (a big advantage in an opera that features a magic horn), the strings often sound muddy and distant. The Dessoff Choir sounds as if they are singing in another room -- it is nearly impossible to make out their words. The recording engineer had difficulties getting the levels right, and there is occasional distortion in the louder sections. Nevertheless, there is a great deal of beautiful singing and playing here, and the recording should be of great interest not only to specialists, but to all opera lovers.

One of the principal attractions for record collectors will be the presence of Nicolai Gedda in the lead tenor role of Hüon -- the role, incidentally, with which he made his Paris Opera debut in 1954. His rendition of the great first-act aria "Von Jugend auf in dem Kampfgefild" is stirring and spectacular, alternating between heroism and transfigured tenderness. But Gedda's singing is by no means faultless. Like the role of Max in Der Freischütz, Hüon is often treated as part of the Heldentenor Fach; indeed, both of these roles are highly dramatic and declamatory. But in contrast to Wagner, Weber writes a great deal of coloratura for his dramatic tenors, and here is where Gedda's approach leaves something to be desired. The voice often sounds as if it is under too much pressure, and the florid passages are consequently labored. In this recording, Gedda is at his best when he sings pianissimo, as in the second-act prayer "Vater! Hör mich fleh'n zu dir!"

Another interpretation of the lead tenor role appears in the bonus tracks at the end of this set, one of which is Kollo's 1972 recording of "Von Jugend auf in dem Kampfgefild." Kollo's approach is distinctively German: the sound is highly compressed and strongly articulated from the throat, and this reviewer preferred Gedda's more Italianate vocal style.

The OONY recording also features the soprano Betty Jones in the role of Rezia. Jones's voice is clearly enormous, and her upper range is remarkably free and clear. She is at her best in the aria "Ozean, du Ungeheurer!" (probably the most famous part of the score). Her performance is unfortunately marred by occasionally pitch problems, and a tendency to let her vibrato get out of control. This reviewer preferred the taught and muscular soprano sound of Ursula Schröder-Feinen, whose 1972 performance the famous "Ocean aria" appears as one of the "bonus tracks" in this set.

This recording should be of interest to many different audiences: for opera enthusiasts interested in the recording of particular voices, for those who are curious about the development of German opera (or at least, opera by German composers!) between Mozart and Wagner, and for those who have followed Eve Queler's remarkable career. But it is this reviewer's hope that the set will also reach a broader audience. The opera deserves a more prominent place in the repertoire, and the release of this set will hopefully draw attention to a forgotten corner of operatic history.

Dr. Stephen Meyer
Syracuse University

image=http://www.operatoday.com/images/653.jpg
image_description=Carl Maria von Weber: Oberon

product=yes
product_title=Carl Maria von Weber: Oberon
product_by=John F. West, Shirley Love, Betty Jones, Julia Hamari, Nicolaï Gedda, Richard Clark, Carmen Balthrop, Opera Orchestra New York and The Dessoff Choir, Eve Queler (cond.)
New York, Carnegie Hall, February 23, 1978
Bonus tracks
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MORRIS: Reading Opera Between the Lines: Orchestral Interludes and Cultural Meaning from Wagner to Berg

An introduction traces the historical development of opera interludes from seventeenth-century sinfonie, which commanded only minimal audience attention, to the nineteenth-century Wagnerian preludes and interludes, which coerced captive audiences, isolated in a darkened theater, into experiencing them fully. Along with this history Morris traces the increased dramatic focus on the orchestra, which becomes the agent of notions of interiority and the unconscious via the use of reminiscence motifs, the lessening of caesurae found in the numbers format, and idealistic unification of music with drama. Even so, he still acknowledges the tension between music "that represents a stop-gap measure (literally and figuratively) and the prominent position to which it is assigned." (8) Having provided a background for his study, he focuses in earnest on Wagner and further considers works of seven other composers (for whom Wagner's influence was impossible to ignore) ranging from the late nineteenth century (Massenet's Esclarmonde, 1889) through the first quarter of the twentieth (Berg's Wozzeck, 1925).

Carefully researched biographies and commentaries from the reception literature on each of the operas ground the critiques in the cultural milieu through which Morris filters his readings. In addition to the writings of contemporary critics and performers, Morris cycles through the important psychoanalytic and aesthetic discourses of the day, citing Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Freud, and Wagner, as well as more recent writings by Lacan, Kristeva, Youens, Adorno, and Abbate among others; all while maintaining a critical ear to those arguments. By returning in each chapter to these important writers, Morris aids the reader not only in grasping details of the arguments at hand but also in teasing out more transcendent themes. Helpful as this strategy is, and cushioned as it is in Morris's elegant and clear prose, this book is no casual read. That is not to say that it is anything less than enjoyable, however, for its reasoned arguments are well worth the reader's attention.

Artfully performing his analysis, Morris sets the stage by summarizing each dramatic plot, cleverly weaving surrounding music and narrative details into his larger dramatic discussion. In portraying the music of the interludes, Morris paints an impressionistic picture. "It is as if ..." begins an abundance of sentences that draw the reader into the imaginative and speculative world of his reading. Although his concerns are largely historical and cultural, Morris conscientiously grounds his "as if" propositions in analysis of musical detail supported by clear examples in the text. In the main, these analyses are thorough and well thought out. At times, though, they leave us wanting to know more about how the music does what he claims it does, even when we may completely agree with his impression of the music. He observes, for instance, that a passage from Delius's A Village Romeo and Juliet (1907) sounds "a sudden concentration of leitmotivic and modal suggestion" that "renders any individual connotations unimportant in the face of what is a flood of reflectiveness, of perspective." His next sentence asks readers to take a leap of faith: "It is as if the music's relationship to the lovers has become infused with a distance that speaks about rather than from them" (29) (Readers conditioned by Abbate's theories of operatic narrative will find his attributions of narrating voice to the interludes as being somewhat liberal.) The question of exactly how a concentration of leitmotifs, for example, can be heard to create distance, remains open.

One of Morris's larger themes negotiates the gaps between embodiment and disembodiment, between real action and fantasy, and between metaphysical and physical meaning presented in the interludes. He suggests the interludes play off the consistent preoccupation of the period with a perceived decline in music evident in its move away from the inner portrayal of subjectivity to outer sensual perception. This leads Morris to observe that "the interludes can be seen to reflect, at times quite self-consciously, on the identity of music itself, and this construction of music will often turn on the conflict between metaphysical aspirations and a musical language that is all too clearly rooted in the sensual." (12) These issues are most effectively fleshed out in his discussions of Wagner's interludes and preludes in Der Ring des Nibelungen, Tristan und Isolde, and Parsifal, in which transcendent metaphysics belies sheer physical impact. Morris's book presents a similar duality itself, conveying lofty philosophic speculations in paragraphs lushly lined with the vivid sensuousness of operatic detail.

The interaction of embodied constructions with cultural definitions of gender and sexuality dominate several of the chapters, including the discussion of Massenet's Esclarmonde (1889) and Strauss's Feuersnot (1901). These essays peruse two interludes, which enact love scenes that could not, for reasons of propriety, be staged. Morris's analysis supports discussions of changing gender roles, and notions of masculine and feminine sexual power that also continue in his chapter on Schreker's Der Schatzgräber (1920). In Schreker's love scene music, Morris hears a gap articulated between music of the female character (near, sensuous, material) and that of the male character (shimmering, distant, transcendental). But that gap proves false as the scene continues and we begin to hear that both musics are a product of male fantasy. Morris argues that the initial gap between masculine and feminine opens only in fantasy, and the music "suggests, indeed, that the gap is itself a fantasy." (158) The sheer resistance of this music to specific gender assignment allows Morris to reflect on the nature of Schreker's opera as celebrating its own falseness, and further leads him to speculate on why Schreker's operas, which followed in the Wagnerian tradition, fell out of favor.

The theme of music's false identity rings in Morris's discussion of Pfitzner's Die Rose vom Liebesgarten (1901) and Berg's Wozzeck (1925). In these essays, he examines interludes that act as eulogies for characters who have died, and thus raise questions of who it is that speaks for the dead in this instrumental music. Drawing into the discussion Wagner's Trauermarsch from Götterdämmerung, he demonstrates how these interludes mimic the techniques of mass propaganda in retelling - and in so doing, revising - the life of the deceased.

Morris also discusses how interludes can construct notions of subjectivity and interiority. He examines how the interludes in Debussy's Pelléas et Mélisande (1902) reinforce a reading of the action as a dream-like projection of Golaud's psyche. Morris traces the influences of romantic and idealist cultural tropes on symbolist poets who influenced Debussy, particularly those notions of dreams and the unconscious. For example, he relates how Debussy smoothes out an abrupt shift of scene from Maeterlinck's play. In scoring an interlude for the change of scene, Debussy effects a much more gradual transition, which moves from the wandering bewilderment of the preceding forest music to a stately motif that will be associated with Golaud's identity as son of Arkel. In smoothing out the transition, Morris argues, Debussy creates coherence in a way that is analogous to Freud's "dream work," paralleling the secondary revision of unconscious "latent" content into its "manifest," dream-as-remembered content. Morris argues convincingly that we hear Debussy's revision as an action of Golaud's psyche and we hear other more raw and fragmentary music as repressed material.

All in all, Morris achieves the goal of Cambridge's New Perspectives in Music History and Criticism series: "to create a greater presence for music in the ongoing discourse among the human sciences." He accomplishes this goal by engaging a broad range of cross-disciplinary voices in a critique that enriches our notions of how music helps us tell stories, not only about operatic characters, but about ourselves as well.

Dr. Shersten Johnson
University of St. Thomas

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product_title=Christopher Morris: Reading Opera Between the Lines — Orchestral Interludes and Cultural Meaning from Wagner to Berg
New Perspectives in Music History and Criticism series
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HAYDN: Symphonies no. 91 & 92 (“Oxford”) and Scena di Berenice

Joseph Haydn: Symphonies no. 91 & 92 ("Oxford") and Scena di Berenice.
Freiburger Barockorchester, René Jacobs (cond.); Bernarda Fink, mezzo-soprano.
Harmonia Mundi HMC 901849 [CD]

This wonderful recording features two Haydn symphonies composed in the year 1789, which frame the short dramatic scena Berenice, premiered in London in 1795. The autograph scores of the two symphonies were dedicated and given to Claude-Francois-Marie Rigoley, Comte d'Ogny, cofounder and patron of the "Concert de la Loge Olympique," an association for which Haydn had already written the so-called "Paris" symphonies in 1785/86. A Swabian prince, Kraft Ernst von Oettingen-Wallerstein, who was an ardent admirer of Haydn works and wished to acquire autograph manuscripts of his symphonies himself, had asked Haydn to produce some symphonies for his personal collection in 1788 as well. Haydn, in a somewhat underhanded manner, sent the Swabian prince autographed copies of the orchestral parts for these two symphonies, so that the autograph scores are dedicated to a French count, and the orchestral parts are dedicated to a German prince. Talk about killing two birds with one stone, or rather fulfilling two commissions with one ingenious solution! In any case, the Freiburger Barockorchester's performance of these two symphonies is magnificent, with correct orchestral size and authentic instruments.

At the culmination of the London concert season of 1795, Haydn conducted perhaps his most significant vocal work, the dramatic scena "Berenice, che fai?" It was written specifically for the Italian soprano Brigida Giorgi Banti, who made her grand entrance at the end of the concert performing this work. It is based on the third act from Pietro Metastasio's Antigono. Beethoven would use Haydn's setting of this text as his model in 1796 for his scena "Ah! perfido," op. 65. The drama shows Berenice lamenting the death of her beloved Demetrio. She sees his ghost as it leaves for the underworld, and begs him in this arioso not to leave without her. After a short recitative, the scena ends with a dramatic aria in which Berenice wishes for her own death. The unconventional harmonic design of the scena mirrors Berenice's state of mind throughout the short drama. The benefit concert where this was performed netted Haydn high earnings, although he commented that Banti's performance was less than perfect. Bernarda Fink, the soloist on this recording, does a wonderful job of portraying Berenice's loss of sanity as she laments her dead lover. I highly recommend this recording.

Dr. Brad Eden
University of Nevada, Las Vegas

A Portrait of Ernst Gruber

A Portrait of Ernst Gruber.
Arias and scenes from Der Freischütz; Il Trovatore; Otello; Sly; Dalibor; Tiefland; Rienzi; Tannhäuser; Lohengrin; Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg; Die Walküre; second act of Tannhäuser.
With Maria Croonen, Sonja Schöner, Wilhelm Klemn, Robert Lauhöfer, Rainer Lüdecke, Theo Adam, Elisabeth rose, Kurt Rehm, Dora Zschille,Christa-Maria Ziese, Brünnhild Friedland, Rudolf Jedlicka, Martin Ritzmann.
(radio recordings 1955 - 1965)
Ponto PO-1033 [3CDs]

Up to now Ernst Gruber was only a name to me. During the fifties and sixties his career was centered in the houses of the defunct German Democratic Republic; first Dresden and Leipzig and later on at the Deutsche Staatsoper in East-Berlin. Usually he rated one or two entries each year in Opera Magazine; mostly just barely mentioning his name as even in those times reviewers concentrated almost exclusively on the antics of director Felsenstein and some of his copycats. So I thought of him as one of those somewhat to be avoided German tenors like Hans Günther Nocker who, while acting their heads off, sang in that barking way that got them epitaphs like "intelligent, thought-provoking" while words like "beauty of tone" were anathema to them and the critics. Mostly they remained behind the Iron Curtain, unless at the last moment they had to run to the rescue in Western Europe or the US when Windgassen or Thomas fell unexpectedly ill. They were always happy to comply as they mostly got 20% of the fee, immediately handing over the remaining 80% to the Stasi officer accompanying and controlling them, who would always remind them of the fate of their families who had to stay home as hostages.

Well, I was wrong in more than one way. Ernst Gruber was an authentic Viennese who made his début aged 29 in Graz in 1947, never gave up his nationality and his Viennese dialect. He lived in Berlin (where there was no wall till 1961) and could easily cross the frontier. So he from time to time he popped up in the West as with his 1967 performance as Tristan in Philadelphia; now even available on CD (Ponto PO 1026). He died in 1979 of the complications of routine surgery.

And I was wrong on the quality of the voice too. It is a big voice as can be clearly heard from the several ensembles on these recordings. The amazing thing is the ringing free top which has no problems at all with high C in "Lodern zum Himmel (= Di quella pira)". The color is somewhat dark, not very refined, a lot of metal though no sweetness or real beauty in it. He belongs, too, to the old German school where each word has to be understood so that from time to time beauty of tone surrenders to spitting out the right consonants. He reminds me of his contemporary, Ernst Kozub, who made a bigger career. Still, and I know readers must by now be dead tired of this cliché, he would have made quite a career nowadays. Even in those tenorricher times, it is strange he didn't make more of an impression. I looked up his name in my Chronik der Wiener Staatsoper and to my surprise he never sang in the main house in his city of birth while far lesser tenors as Janko, Lustig, Pöltzer, Söderström were employed in the roles of his repertory.

The recordings, all in good sound as they are derived from radio sources, give us a full idea of the voice's evolution between 1955 and 1965 and it is a fascinating one. In the earlier recordings like Trovatore the voice is very forward, sometimes sounding a little throaty with very open sounds which sometimes grate a bit. Gradually the voice becomes rounder, more beautiful until in the middle register it sometimes has an uncanny resemblance to the Vickers sound in the same repertoire with the difference that Gruber's high notes above the staff are much stronger and fuller. As can be expected, he is at his best in his German roles, especially where a lot of declamatory music is in attendance like d'Albert's Tiefland. Kollo, Schock and Hoppe in their official recordings cannot compete with his big incisive sound. In more lyrical roles like Lohengrin and Walther he is less successful though he succeeds in singing some fine pianissimos but the lack of pure beauty in those well known arias is a handicap.

One of the joys of this recording consists in finely having a testimony of other female singers like Elisabeth Rose or Maria Croonen; they too only names up to now. Not that they are singers of genius but both are honest pleasure giving artists though Rose is a shade too lightweight in Tannhäuser on the third disc. We get the whole second act and I fail to see why this is included as Tannhäuser's role is somewhat limited and Rudolf Jedlicka's Wolfram is not so unforgettable as to be preserved for eternity. A two-disc set would have given us a fully satisfying portrait of the tenor and would have been cheaper.

Jan Neckers

Falstaff at LA Opera

Bryn Terfel as Falstaff (Photo: LA Opera)

Opera review: Falstaff

By Madeleine Shaner [Reuters, 9 June 05]

LOS ANGELES (Hollywood Reporter) - "Falstaff" might have been Verdi's last opera; it might have been Verdi's greatest opera; it is, without doubt, Verdi's only and most hilariously comic opera.

It's all sparkle, wit, buffoonery, roaring slapstick and belly-laugh-inducing comedy. An international superstar, bass-baritone Bryn Terfel, headlines L.A. Opera's stunning production, directed by Stephen Lawless, under the baton of Kent Nagano with the superb L.A. Opera Orchestra. And it's splendidly sung by the amazingly talented Welshman.

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Felicity Lott at Wigmore Hall

Felicity Lott

Felicity Lott

Erica Jeal [The Guardian, 8 June 05]

"What's a dame like me doing in a dump like this?" It takes a DBE to get away with a line like that in a venue as august as the Wigmore Hall - and this was how Felicity Lott wrapped up a recital marking 30 years of performing here with pianist Graham Johnson. The programme, Fallen Women and Virtuous Wives, is one the pair are currently touring. While its humour found its niche in the Wigmore Hall, how it will play in Luxembourg next week is anyone's guess.

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Der Freischütz at Carnegie Hall

Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826)

Into the Woods but Leaving Hidden Meanings Behind

By BERNARD HOLLAND [NY Times, 8 June 05]

If Carl Maria von Weber never quite made it into the grand procession of Romantic giants, he left behind an opera of indestructible charm. "Der Freischütz," which Eve Queler's Opera Orchestra of New York undertook on Monday night at Carnegie Hall, is first of all a darling of historians - a musicological ground zero for the German musical theater.

The language, the mythic forest settings, the magic and the demonry put Italian style behind them and looked out toward Wagner. Germans have loved "Der Freischütz" patriotically since 1821. Everyone else has loved it for its pureness of heart.

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A thriller almost hits its target

BY MARION LIGNANA ROSENBERG [Newsday, 9 June 05]

Reviled by some for her bland conducting and for the hokey singer-worship that reigns at Opera Orchestra of New York concerts, maestra Eve Queler nonetheless gallantly serves musical New York. She tends to nooks of the repertory - French grand opera, pre- and post-Verdi Italian opera - often neglected by our larger companies. She has a keen ear for up-and-coming talent and a flair for casting established artists in smashing new roles: Aprile Millo's poignant Minnie in last fall's "La Fanciulla del West," for example.

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Boris Christoff — Lugano Recital 1976

Boris Christoff — Lugano Recital 1976.
Arias and Songs by Mussorgski, Rossini, Mozart and Verdi.
Orchestra della Svizzera italiana, Bruno Amaducci (cond.).
Introduction and interviews by Giorgio Gualerzi.
Dynamic 33476 [DVD]

Boris Christoff was, together with Cesare Siepi, the most prominent bass during The New Golden Age of Singing (1945-1975). At the time of this television recording, he was considered somewhat old hat as he had been singing for more than 30 years. During the mid-sixties, he was superseded by Nicolai Ghiaurov who, due to his rolling voice and bigger volume, quickly became the hottest ticket in town. Both men were Bulgarians and there was pure hate between them; especially from Christoff's side. Christoff was a protégé of the deceased king Boris. He studied in Italy and was not allowed to return home after the war when the communists had snatched power. He didn't even get a visa to attend his father's funeral. Ghiaurov was sent to Italy by the communists for further study. Their confrontations as Filippo and Grande Inquisitore in a La Scala Don Carlos are still legendary. Nobody had ever witnessed such (real) hatred in that scene. Afterwards, Christoff demanded that Ghiaurov be ousted but sovrintende Ghiringhelli sided with the younger bass and Christoff's career at La Scala was finished.

Now that both men are deceased (Christoff died in 1993 and Ghiaurov in 2004), historical perspective has taken its place and it is clear that Christoff was the more imaginative singer and a better one as well, as he kept his voice in better shape far longer than did Ghiaurov. At the time of this live Lugano recital for Swiss television, the older singer was already 62 and, though he cannot quite hide his age, there is still a lot to enjoy. At first there is a somewhat hollow sound and it seems as if higher notes come easier than lower ones. The characteristic timbre, which was Christoff's glory, is somewhat absent. This could be any good Slav bass.

Things improve a bit in "La calunnia" but it's only in "Wer ein Liebchen" that the old, well-known black sound to our relief (and probably Christoff's as well) is back. His great monologue from Don Carlos is very fine though he sometimes has to take an extra breath (In "Amor per me non ha" he takes three); but there is the noble uttering and an even more rounded and finer pianissimo than in his many commercial recordings.

His death of Boris is still the yard stick with which other singers are measured. There is something strange in that scene. He is clearly singing with all his force (no synchro) but nevertheless one hears a chorus that is not on the scene and indeed not even mentioned. So I wonder if this was mixed in later. It's well possible as this is a European TV-broadcast. TV-directors in those times still thought of themselves as artists instead of craftsmen (indeed, a lot of them still do) and they would always try to apply their artistic touch and so-called sensitivity. (I was a TV reporter and producer at Flemish Public TV at that time and I remember too well the many fights as I wanted these gentlemen to do my bidding instead of theirs). There are a few fine examples to be found in this recording. During the climactic phrases of King Philip's aria, the camera is fixed for almost twenty seconds on the conductor instead of the singer. The moment Christoff has sung his last utterances in Boris, we get a fake 19th-Century drawing of the Tsar during the postlude and the ensuing applause and we are not allowed to see Christoff during his well-deserved bows.

At the occasion of this concert, young Giorgio Gualerzi interviewed Christoff and I'm fairly sure it was the original director, and not Dynamic, who mixed parts of this interview during the concert proper. Half an hour of singing in one stretch was probably not artistic enough. Gualerzi proves himself to be a pedantic and bad interviewer, always ready to interrupt Christoff. The bass himself has some interesting things to say on older singers ("our professors" he calls their recordings) and modern composers (a hilarious story on Hindemith) who he clearly despised.

The sound of this DVD is excellent and the images are acceptable for the times: not too well focused and a little bit whitewashed. This is not Dynamic's fault. The seventies and eighties are a disaster for TV-archives. When we switched from film to video, we used all kinds of sizes and we didn't take precautions for storing. Theoretically, each recording ought to have been copied and recopied each year to keep the colour quality. No broadcasting company ever thought of doing this (and it would have been horrendously expensive) and so five or ten years later the images of many historical happenings had almost deteriorated into oblivion.

Compared with those sad losses, this DVD is still eminently viable. As there are so few documents available on this giant of a singer (the Napoli Forza and a few B/W features), even this registration of an older Christoff is a must.

Jan Neckers

José Carreras at the Sofia Palace of Culture Hall, May, 28, 2005

Bulgarian soprano Zvetelina Maldzanska performing with José Carreras. (Photo by BTA)

With Monserrat Caballé's sensational concert at the same hall in September 2000, this is the second appearance of a famous Spanish opera singer in Sofia. The advertising campaign that started two months ago brought good results assembling the la crema y la nata de la sociedad. The Sofia Metropolitan Orchestra conducted by David Himenez performed well in the solos: Rossini's "La gazza ladra" and the intermezzo of Heronimo Himenez' zarzuella "La boda de Luis Alonso." José Carreras chose to partner with the young and promising Bulgarian soprano, Zvetelina Maldzanska, to share his triumph in Sofia.

The local audience had the rare chance to hear Italian and Spanish songs (Gastaldone, Morera, Albeniz, Serano, Lama and de Curtis) by one of the greatest tenors in the world today. José Carreras did not disappoint. He performed 9 songs and 2 duos with the soprano, as well as 6 "encores," all in brilliant form and style that transformed this night into an unforgettable experience. A supreme delight and blessing!

Our correspondent in Bulgaria

Works of Bach and Handel Discovered

Des partitions jusqu'ici inédites des compositeurs allemands Jean-Sébastien Bach (1685-1750) et Georg Friedrich Händel (1685-1750) ont été découvertes dans des archives à Weimar et Munich, selon les archives de Bavière et de la Fondation Bach.
© AFP/DDP Jens-Ulrich Koch

C'est charmante.

Theatrical magic and cheerful charm abound in Opera Theatre of St. Louis' new production of Andre-Ernest-Modeste Gretry's version of "Beauty and the Beast," seen Sunday evening in its premiere.

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VERDI: Il Corsaro

Giuseppe Verdi: Il Corsaro.
Zvetan Michailov, Renato Bruson, Michela Sburlati, Adriana Damato
Orchestra e Coro del Teatro Regio di Parma Renato Palumbo (cond.)
Dynamic 468/1-2 [2CDs]

Alessandro Trovato's admirably honest and forthright booklet essay (translated by Daniela Pilarz) for this Dynamic release of Verdi's Il Corsaro goes a long way to explaining why this ranks as one of the master's least-performed works.

First, the opera fulfilled a contract that Verdi clearly wanted to bring to a close. Verdi had at one time found the story of passing interest, but in the end he set to work on a libretto he had deemed unworthy, without requesting any significant changes. Once the first performances passed, to a cool reception, Verdi apparently made no effort to revise the score. Instead, he went on to a new publisher and great, everlasting fame.

Il Trovatore would secure much of that fame, and Il Corsaro shares more than the definite article with that wild, garish melodramatic masterpiece. Although the plot of Il Corsaro may at first seem like the dramatic counter part to Mozart's Abduction from the Seraglio, with its harem and cruel pasha, in outline the future masterpiece of Trovatore can be seen — the hero outside the law, trying to rescue a damsel in distress from a nasty baritone, only to be captured himself, and with his beloved poisoning herself just before his own sudden demise (here a suicide).

Dynamic is a label that relishes such rare repertory, and so they set up their microphones for a performance at the Teatro Regio in June 2004, and the handsome photographs on cover and in booklet suggest a lively, colorful, very traditional production.

The recording, however, only offers the voices (although extraneous stage noises make intermittent intrusions). With one exception, the cast features younger, less well-known singers. The swashbuckling title role goes to Zvetan Michailov, who has a manly tenor to match a handsome appearance, as evidenced by the booklet cover. Neither strength nor weakness distinguishes his performance; perhaps in person he has more charisma.

The two sopranos offer even less. The corsair's true love, Medora, gets a wobbly portrayal from Michela Sburlati, and the tragic slave girl Gulnara offers not much respite. Adriana Damato, a stunning young woman in the photos, has a prematurely aged voice that makes one fully sympathetic with the corsair's decision to return to his other love — until she opens her mouth.

The veteran Renato Bruson has the role of the nasty Seid (a "vile Muslim," in the truly politically incorrect libretto). A man with a great career behind him, this recording sadly documents his decline. The intelligence that guided him through many successes is still there; the voice simply is not.

Renato Palumbo leads the Teatro's orchestra and chorus in an emotional yet disciplined performance; he is the true star of this recording.

Not easy to find, the Philips recording, part of a series devoted to early Verdi mostly conducted by Lamberto Gardelli, offers much too high a challenge to this Dynamic set. Caballé, Carreras, Norman — they make a much, much better case for this score, as does the Sied, Gian-Piero Mastromei. He may not have had the career of Bruson, but in this role, he emerges the superior singer.

The booklet offers a libretto in Italian and English along with the names of the orchestra and chorus members, but no biographies of the singers or conductor. Strangely, the synopsis in English omits the first scene.

If one wants a complete set of Verdi's operas and cannot find the Philips anywhere, this Dynamic set make an acceptable compromise, especially for those more able to forgive certain soprano weaknesses than your reviewer can. For anyone else, the wait for the Philips to reappear, or the cost of locating it at an overseas CD shop, should be worthwhile.

Chris Mullins
Harbor Teacher Preparation Academy