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.
One of the guiding principles of the revisionist (if not intervisionist) school of opera directing commonly called “regie-theater” is that certain outdated dramatic conventions in the librettos of many great operas can actually interfere with a contemporary audience’s ability to perceive the true artistic worth of the work of art.
Instead of tears, titters can be produced if in the last act of Rigoletto, the soprano looks ridiculous dressed as a boy and the stage action makes it impossible to believe that she survived the stabbing by Sparafucile. The truth of Verdi’s music and fine singing can overcome that reaction, but a talented director can also help, by re-conceptualizing the scene. On an abstract set, in some other historical context or in contemporary dress, the action no longer feels cramped by expectations of theatrical naturalism. At least, that’s the idea…
Verdi and Piave’s La Forza del Destino can make Rigoletto’s story seem like something from Samuel Beckett. After an opening built around an errant gunshot that kills the enraged father of Leonora, who is about to elope with her lover Don Alvaro, the rest of the opera belabors coincidence amid tangentially related episodes (what does Preziosilla have to do with anything?) as Leonora’s brother seeks revenge on both his sister and her lover. No one who knows his work expects David Pountney to go the traditional route with this opera.
After viewing the 2008 production of Forza Pountney brought to the Vienna State Opera, however, the question is, what route did he choose? Working with set designer Richard Hudson, Pountney strips the opera of any geographical reality. The first half plays out on a white ramp with one end closed off in the shape of a wall. For the second half, with its battle scenes, some tower structures are added, with the platform remaining as a foundation. Costuming of the three leads tends to the drab and ordinary, with a decidedly contemporary look to the suits Hudson provides the men. Then Preziosilla dances on in a cowgirl costume, surrounded by Vegas showboys and showgirls in complementary outfits, and that fatal whiff of directorial condescension to the material creeps in. Instead of diverting a contemporary audience from the problematic nature of the Forza libretto, Pountney’s approach emphasizes the weaknesses.
The only strength Pountney brings to the show comes in his work with Nina Stemme, the Leonora. She is a tragic character almost from the start and as such risks tiring an audience with her constant pathetic appeal. Stemme adds a core of strength to the character, and though her voice lacks that warmth often called “Italianate,” her secure and smooth delivery are admirable. As her brother, Carlos Álvarez spends the entire show glowering, and though he has the right sound for the part — masculine, authoritative — he borders on comic villainy. The late Salvatore Licitra demonstrates why his once-promising career never quite fulfilled itself. He looks good, and at moments has exactly the heroic tenor sound one wants. Then he slips into lazy phrasing and passages where his intonation veers sadly off-course. Still, with so few singers able to take on these roles these days, his loss remains a very sad one.
Add to Pountney’s “ideas” having Alastair Miles sing both Leonora’s father and Padre Guardino. Miles handles both parts with impressive command, but if some point is being made, it barely seems worth considering. And do the tunics Miles and Licitra have to wear in the opening and closing scenes have some symbolic import? If not, they do serve the function of being unattractive.
Zubin Mehta also conducted a Forza released on DVD a few years ago. He knows his Verdi, and the singers never lack for dramatic support. The Unitel set has a thin booklet and no other special features. The credit sequence, with its animated sequence of a gun firing a bullet superimposed over rehearsal footage is a bad mixture of possibly good individual ideas. Even worse is when the gun imagery returns during the opera proper. Karina Fibich, credited as video director, should have rethought that one (perhaps it was Pountney’s idea).
So, for Forza on DVD, the best choice remains that old black and white version with Tebaldi and Corelli, on sets so flimsy they wrinkle when touched. It is doubtful even those singers could save, however, Pountney’s misguided approach.
Chris Mullins