The Sixteen continues its exploration of Henry Purcell’s Welcome Songs for Charles II. As with Robert King’s pioneering Purcell series begun over thirty years ago for Hyperion, Harry Christophers is recording two Welcome Songs per disc.
In February this year, Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho made a highly lauded debut recital at Wigmore Hall - a concert which both celebrated Opera Rara’s 50th anniversary and honoured the career of the Italian soprano Rosina Storchio (1872-1945), the star of verismo who created the title roles in Leoncavallo’s La bohème and Zazà, Mascagni’s Lodoletta and Puccini’s Madama Butterfly.
Collapsology. Or, perhaps we should use the French word ‘Collapsologie’ because this is a transdisciplinary idea pretty much advocated by a series of French theorists - and apparently, mostly French theorists. It in essence focuses on the imminent collapse of modern society and all its layers - a series of escalating crises on a global scale: environmental, economic, geopolitical, governmental; the list is extensive.
Amongst an avalanche of new Mahler recordings appearing at the moment (Das Lied von der Erde seems to be the most favoured, with three) this 1991 Mahler Second from the 2nd Kassel MahlerFest is one of the more interesting releases.
If there is one myth, it seems believed by some people today, that probably needs shattering it is that post-war recordings or performances of Wagner operas were always of exceptional quality. This 1949 Hamburg Tristan und Isolde is one of those recordings - though quite who is to blame for its many problems takes quite some unearthing.
The voices of six women composers are celebrated by baritone Jeremy Huw Williams and soprano Yunah Lee on this characteristically ambitious and valuable release by Lontano Records Ltd (Lorelt).
As Paul Spicer, conductor of the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire Chamber Choir, observes, the worship of the Blessed Virgin Mary is as ‘old as Christianity itself’, and programmes devoted to settings of texts which venerate the Virgin Mary are commonplace.
Ethel Smyth’s last large-scale work, written in 1930 by the then 72-year-old composer who was increasingly afflicted and depressed by her worsening deafness, was The Prison – a ‘symphony’ for soprano and bass-baritone soloists, chorus and orchestra.
‘Hamilton Harty is Irish to the core, but he is not a musical nationalist.’
‘After silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.’ Aldous Huxley’s words have inspired VOCES8’s new disc, After Silence, a ‘double album in four chapters’ which marks the ensemble’s 15th anniversary.
A song-cycle is a narrative, a journey, not necessarily literal or linear, but one which carries performer and listener through time and across an emotional terrain. Through complement and contrast, poetry and music crystallise diverse sentiments and somehow cohere variability into an aesthetic unity.
One of the nicest things about being lucky enough to enjoy opera, music and theatre, week in week out, in London’s fringe theatres, music conservatoires, and international concert halls and opera houses, is the opportunity to encounter striking performances by young talented musicians and then watch with pleasure as they fulfil those sparks of promise.
“It’s forbidden, and where’s the art in that?”
Dublin-born John F. Larchet (1884-1967) might well be described as the father of post-Independence Irish music, given the immense influenced that he had upon Irish musical life during the first half of the 20th century - as a composer, musician, administrator and teacher.
The English Civil War is raging. The daughter of a Puritan aristocrat has fallen in love with the son of a Royalist supporter of the House of Stuart. Will love triumph over political expediency and religious dogma?
Beethoven Symphony no 9 (the Choral Symphony) in D minor, Op. 125, and the Choral Fantasy in C minor, Op. 80 with soloist Kristian Bezuidenhout, Pablo Heras-Casado conducting the Freiburger Barockorchester, new from Harmonia Mundi.
A Louise Brooks look-a-like, in bobbed black wig and floor-sweeping leather trench-coat, cheeks purple-rouged and eyes shadowed in black, Barbara Hannigan issues taut gestures which elicit fire-cracker punch from the Mahler Chamber Orchestra.
‘Signor Piatti in a fantasia on themes from Beatrice di Tenda had also his triumph. Difficulties, declared to be insuperable, were vanquished by him with consummate skill and precision. He certainly is amazing, his tone magnificent, and his style excellent. His resources appear to be inexhaustible; and altogether for variety, it is the greatest specimen of violoncello playing that has been heard in this country.’
Baritone Roderick Williams seems to have been a pretty constant ‘companion’, on my laptop screen and through my stereo speakers, during the past few ‘lock-down’ months.
Melodramas can be a difficult genre for composers. Before Richard Strauss’s Enoch Arden the concept of the melodrama was its compact size – Weber’s Wolf’s Glen scene in Der Freischütz, Georg Benda’s Ariadne auf Naxos and Medea or even Leonore’s grave scene in Beethoven’s Fidelio.
I first became acquainted with Glass’s music when Lyric Opera of Chicago staged his Satyagraha in the 1980s. Having grown up on a small-town Midwestern diet of Beethoven sonatas and Broadway musicals, I was blown away by his vision of Mahatma Gandhi.
Later I got a recording of Akhnaten, which I thought was interesting but didn’t do much for me. Then I saw Glass and his Ensemble in performance, but curiously, it must not have made much of an impression, because I can’t tell you now what they played or even where I saw the performance. I do remember the premiere of his chamber opera The Fall of the House of Usher, which the time I thought was one of the worst things I’d ever seen or heard.
Then a couple years ago I saw The Hours—fortunately on DVD, not at the local multiplex, because I was an emotional wreck at the end. I found Glass’s score breathtakingly moving (though reportedly studio boss Harvey Weinstein hated it). I also was excited by his score for The Truman Show, which was well-suited to that parable of celebrity. Perhaps here’s the place to add that I did a telephone interview with Glass one time. He was a very nice fellow and gave thoughtful answers to some of my questions (mainly about his compositional process) that I knew wouldn’t interest my readers, or even make it into the final review.
So, I hadn’t heard much Glass in a while, apart from The Hours, and I was curious what this new piece Orion was all about. It was commissioned for the Olympics in Athens and premiered there in June 2004. The movements cover the continents: Australia, China, Canada, The Gambia, Brazil, India, and Greece (no march of the penguins to represent Antarctica), with three short interludes. Glass recruited regional musicians to collaborate with him on the various movements. The program insert describes them as composer/performers, but we don’t get any clue as to how much of the music they composed, or whether they merely guided Glass in composing for their instruments. The title Orion refers to the constellation, which can be seen from both hemispheres.
The opening movement, Australia, features Mark Atkins, who plays the didgeridoo. The didgeridoo is a type of cylindrical hardwood drone pipe, played by the native peoples of Australia. You get one note, which can be sustained for as long as 40 minutes using “circular breathing”: players inhale through their nose while they exhale into the didgeridoo using their cheeks and tongue. Here the drone gives Glass’s opening a kind of Also sprach Zarathustra/2001–Rheingold feel. It also caught my akita’s ear, who kept looking at the speakers.
The “China” movement showcases Wu Man on the more familiar pipa, a four-stringed, pear-shaped lute. Also an ancient instrument like the didgeridoo, the pipa allows Glass a little more “melodic” flexibility. But, what, one might ask, could Glass find to characterize Canada? A good Irish violin (= Irish immigrants). I might have suggested some French dances, but platinum-selling violinist Ashley MacIsaac can certainly get your toes to tapping.
Foday Musa Suso, a griot in the West African Mandigo culture, plays the kora in the “Gambia” section. The kora is another harp-lute, and another instrument of ancient origins. You’d probably recognize it if you saw it: it has a large hemispherical body with a long neck and two planes with 11 and 10 strings running in notches at the sides of an upright bridge. “Brazil” features the ensemble UAKTI from that country; their particular niche is using all manner of materials to construct their instruments. The booklet doesn’t tell us what they cobbled together for this performance.
“India” has Gaurav Mazumdar playing the familiar sitar. According to the program notes, it seems that Ravi Shankar had a hand in the composition of this section, though, here again, Glass is being vague about who composed what. All of the artists collaborate in the final section, “Greece,” joined by soprano Eleftheria Arvanitaki in Glass’s arrangement of a traditional song, “Tzivaeri.”
And, so, a reviewer ultimately is required to (or supposed to) give his or her assessment of a performance, however much they try to wiggle out of it by giving lots of background material. Glass’s collaborators give quite accomplished performances, though I’m not qualified to say how good the didgeridoo Johnny-One-Note is. As to Glass, well, as much as I’m always inclined to like his music, this 90 minutes’ worth sounds awfully repetitious. (Yes, thank you, I know that’s a hallmark of minimalism.) Both repeating itself and repeating other compositions of his. It seems almost glib; nothing caught my ear to make me look at the speakers.
Is it art or is it craftsmanship? I’m inclined to nod toward the latter for this score. I was just reading a book on American music in West Germany after World War II; the author reports one observer writing in the 1970s and 1980s that Glass’s music “approached pop music” and that it didn’t have “socially-critical content.” Well, listeners certainly don’t want socially-critical content crammed down their throats at every concert (and the Germans were wild over John Cage; go figure). But I think this is why I like Glass’s film music more than his scores like Orion: his music seems to better suit the pop culture of films, even when they do have socially-critical content, like The Truman Show.
Fans of Glass will want to pick up this set. It’s certainly very listenable, and Glass’s collaborators add a lot to the mix, both in their performances and in their contributions (however much) to the actual composition. Even though this piece didn’t do much for me, I’m looking forward to hearing whatever Glass comes out with next. Maybe I’ll even wag my tail.
David E. Anderson