English Touring Opera are delighted to announce a season of lyric monodramas to tour nationally from October to December. The season features music for solo singer and piano by Argento, Britten, Tippett and Shostakovich with a bold and inventive approach to making opera during social distancing.
This tenth of ten Live from London concerts was in fact a recorded live performance from California. It was no less enjoyable for that, and it was also uplifting to learn that this wasn’t in fact the ‘last’ LfL event that we will be able to enjoy, courtesy of VOCES8 and their fellow vocal ensembles (more below …).
Ever since Wigmore Hall announced their superb series of autumn concerts, all streamed live and available free of charge, I’d been looking forward to this song recital by Ian Bostridge and Imogen Cooper.
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.
Although Stile Antico’s programme article for their Live from London recital introduced their selection from the many treasures of the English Renaissance in the context of the theological debates and upheavals of the Tudor and Elizabethan years, their performance was more evocative of private chamber music than of public liturgy.
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.
Evidently, face masks don’t stifle appreciative “Bravo!”s. And, reducing audience numbers doesn’t lower the volume of such acclamations. For, the audience at Wigmore Hall gave soprano Elizabeth Llewellyn and pianist Simon Lepper a greatly deserved warm reception and hearty response following this lunchtime recital of late-Romantic song.
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.
For this week’s Live from London vocal recital we moved from the home of VOCES8, St Anne and St Agnes in the City of London, to Kings Place, where The Sixteen - who have been associate artists at the venue for some time - presented a programme of music and words bound together by the theme of ‘reflection’.
'Such is your divine Disposation that both you excellently understand, and royally entertaine the Exercise of Musicke.’
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.
‘And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, And prevailed not; neither was their place found any more in heaven … that old serpent … Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him.’
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.
There was never any doubt that the fifth of the twelve Met Stars Live in Concert broadcasts was going to be a palpably intense and vivid event, as well as a musically stunning and theatrically enervating experience.
‘Love’ was the theme for this Live from London performance by Apollo5. Given the complexity and diversity of that human emotion, and Apollo5’s reputation for versatility and diverse repertoire, ranging from Renaissance choral music to jazz, from contemporary classical works to popular song, it was no surprise that their programme spanned 500 years and several musical styles.
The Academy of St Martin in the Fields have titled their autumn series of eight concerts - which are taking place at 5pm and 7.30pm on two Saturdays each month at their home venue in Trafalgar Square, and being filmed for streaming the following Thursday - ‘re:connect’.
The London Symphony Orchestra opened their Autumn 2020 season with a homage to Oliver Knussen, who died at the age of 66 in July 2018. The programme traced a national musical lineage through the twentieth century, from Britten to Knussen, on to Mark-Anthony Turnage, and entwining the LSO and Rattle too.
With the Live from London digital vocal festival entering the second half of the series, the festival’s host, VOCES8, returned to their home at St Annes and St Agnes in the City of London to present a sequence of ‘Choral Dances’ - vocal music inspired by dance, embracing diverse genres from the Renaissance madrigal to swing jazz.
Just a few unison string wriggles from the opening of Mozart’s overture to Le nozze di Figaro are enough to make any opera-lover perch on the edge of their seat, in excited anticipation of the drama in music to come, so there could be no other curtain-raiser for this Gala Concert at the Royal Opera House, the latest instalment from ‘their House’ to ‘our houses’.
"Before the ending of the day, creator of all things, we pray that, with your accustomed mercy, you may watch over us."
Sadly, and worryingly, there are plenty of modern-day political leaders - both dictators and the democratically elected - whose petulance, stubbornness and egoism threaten the safety of their own subjects as well as the stability and security of other nations.
But, the present-day doesn’t have a monopoly on narcissistic premiers and princes, and many historical prototypes seem to find their way into opera librettos of Baroque opera seria. Watching Argentine countertenor Franco Fagioli’s Serse, King of Persia, huff and puff, rant and rave, swagger and bluster during Il Pomo d’Oro’s concert performance at the Barbican Hall (which followed performances in Lubljana, Vienna and Paris), it was perhaps fitting that the image of Donald Trump’s baby blimp, which floated over the streets of London during the President recent UK visit, came to mind. For Handel’s Serse certainly is tragi-comic, to the chagrin of contemporary commentators such as Charles Burney: “One of the worst that Handel ever set to music”, bemoaned the music historian after the premiere of the opera at the King’s Theatre, Haymarket, on 15 th April 1738.
It’s worth remembering, though, that Burney was imposing the eighteenth-century taste for the repetitions and excesses ofopera seria on a libretto that had its roots in the seventeenth century - having been adapted by an unknown author from Silvio Stampiglia’s libretto for Giovanni Bononcini’s 1694 opera, Stampiglia’s text having itself been based on Nicolò Minato’s version of the Persian King’s antics for Francesco Cavalli in 1654. And, that the structures of the text set by Handel implied not an inexorable succession of rigid da capo arias but rather, as Handel supplies, a sequence of short airs of varied forms, which follow one another swiftly, often without ritornelli and little recitative.
Burney may have lamented the serio-comic tone of Handel’s Serse, but it was the “buffoonery” that he believed resulted in “feeble writing” which Il Pomo d’Oro frequently brought to the fore, sometimes at the expense of the music elegance of the score, and overlooking that Handel’s ironic twists on opera seria conventions and structures are more often witty and whimsical than rowdy or histrionic.
Fagioli encouraged us to mock Serse’s peevishness, infantilism and narcissism, thereby weakening our sense of the very real danger that such tyrants pose. The loyal Amastre was dismissed as a “perpetual nuisance” by the foot-stamping King in a frustrated fury, and when the upright Ariodate - whose own integrity prevented him from reading between the lines - took Serse at his word and betrothed his daughter, Romilda, to the wrong royal brother, I half expected a full-on ‘Red Queen’ hissy fit, “Off with his head!”, from the enraged monarch whose romantic plans had been thwarted.
The pace of Il Pomo d’Oro’s near-complete performance of the opera was fast, the dramatic flow of the seventeenth-century libretto structure pushed almost to excess. Musically there were benefits, the rapid sequence of songs seeming to spring spontaneously from the unfolding dramatic situations. But, the haste risked further undermining the ‘serious’ dimension of the drama and, given that the performers were in modern concert dress, perpetuating the perennial confusions and complications of the seria web of gender-crossing and disguise. The towering Jimmy Choo stiletto boots donned by Arsamene, sung by mezzo-soprano Vivica Genaux, and the ‘soldier’s uniform’ sported by Delphine Galou’s Amastre - a long black cardigan over a sparkling, back-less evening gown, might have had uninitiated audience members scratching their heads as to who was who, related to whom, on what basis their schemes and stratagems had been borne.
Despite this, although billed as a concert performance, the cast made a concerted effort to communicate the action, often singing confidently off-score, and carrying off the carefully choreographed exits and entrances. Moreover, not a single person present in the Barbican Hall could surely have failed to be bowled over by Fagioli’s dramatic commitment and acrobatic musical accomplishments. This was a truly ‘lived’ performance, physically and vocally. The soprano-like punch and precision at the top; the striking agility which spun reams and curlicues on a single, long breath; the ability to leap with accuracy and evenness across wide expanses - even venturing down into his bass voice before leaping back to his shining countertenor; all such feats were mesmerising.
‘Se bramate’ and, most especially, ‘Crude furie’ were electrified by explosive elaborations and ornamentations. Though such extravagance was undoubtedly impressive, initially I felt that the pyrotechnics resulted in a distortion of the phrasal, cadential and formal balance; but, the technical daring was, by the close, simply hypnotic - a thrilling, breath-taking expression of the King’s solipsistic immaturity. Perhaps Fagioli was striving to embody the overweening arrogance not just of the Persian premier but also of the role’s first interpreter, the soprano castrato Caffarelli - described by his teacher, Porpora, as “the greatest singer Italy had ever produced”, who was notoriously unpredictable and even served a spell in prison for assault. If so, he succeeded in resurrecting the castrato’s temper and tantrums, even if he did not revive the legendary refinement of Caffarelli’s liquid legato which Handel exploited in his slower airs. ‘Ombra mai fù’, though pure of tone, felt rather rushed, and the pathos of line in ‘It core spera e teme’ was lost in the floridity of the ornamentation. A little more simplicity at times would have bestowed equal weight on the sincerity of Handel’s music as on the drama’s comic excesses.
Fagioli’s exhilarating performance was far from being the only vocal delectation of the evening. As Romilda, Inga Kalna repeatedly coaxed beauty and expanse from Handel’s phrasing: that she had plenty of power in reserve enabled her to spin the most gossamer piano threads, as when expressing her love in ‘Nemmen con l’ombre’, and if there was a danger that such gestures might become a mechanical mannerism, then Kalna balanced delicacy with a sonorous, creamy tone which was effortlessly projected, most especially in ‘Chi cede al furore’, and flashes of fire in her vigorous Act 3 duet-argument with Genaux’s Arsamene, ‘Troppo oltraggi la mia fede, alma fiera’.
Genaux’s lower register did not project as well as her soprano range, but she offered much stylish singing and her performance grew progressively in stature. In so persuasively articulating the contrast between the pained pathos of ‘Quella che tutta fé’ and the impassioned hurt of ‘Sì, la voglio’, Genaux made Arsamene’s suffering one of the more convincingly tangible ‘human’ experiences of the evening.
Contralto Delphine Galou gave a similarly tasteful and composed performance as Amastre, and if the gentle warmth of her voice didn’t always carry effectively across the Hall, she showed terrific agility in her vengeful ‘Saprà delle mie offese’ in Act 1, and grace of line in the sparsely accompanied final cavatina, ‘Cagion son io’.
Much of the evening’s warmest humour came courtesy of the mischievous, insouciant wilfulness of Francesca Aspromonte’s Atalanta and the Mozartian directness of Biagio Pizzuti’s Elviro. Aspromonte’s lovely rich tone made this Atalanta a more sympathetic and forgivable character than is sometimes the case. Resourceful and resilient, despite her stated romantic intentions Atalanta could not resist ‘vocally flirting’ with leader Evgeny Sviridov, who was more than happy to respond with his own brief serenade, and at the close she shrugged off the failure of her romantic stratagems, declaring herself ready to look for love elsewhere - and catching the opportunistic Elviro’s eye in the process.
Pizzuti almost stole the show in a minor role to which he brought terrific comic presence - and considerable vocal style. Disguised, somewhat improbably, as a flower seller, in a flamboyant purple head-scarf, and a little encumbered by his large music score and plastic bouquet, Pizzuti was an engaging stooge, creeping around the instrumentalists, hamming wickedly to Katrin Laza’s colourful bassoon playing; his final aria, ‘Del mio cara baco amabile’, was a smooth and suave paean to Bacchanalian indulgence and relaxed revelry. Andreas Wolf’s Ariodate was no less impressive: his powerful, focused bass sailed through the vocal phrases with easy projection, terrific diction and even tone. It was quite a feat for Wolf to convey both the warrior’s haplessness amid the amorous machinations off the battlefield and his accomplishment at manoeuvres in the field. One could truly sympathise when his exasperated expression conveyed all of his exhaustion and incredulity: Oh, for the quiet life of soldiering!
This was a meticulous prepared performance. Director Maxim Emelyanychev was an almost hyperactive and vigorously gestural guide, striving unceasingly to coax the most energetic tone from his small band of instrumentalists and precisely pointing the minutest of accents, swells and surges. In command of every detail, he gave encouragement with whole body, scarcely seeming to have time to be seated at the keyboard. Perhaps it was the small numbers, but I didn’t always find sufficient brightness or variety in the instrumental timbre, though the playing was technically assured and there was a lovely lightness to the dance-like accompaniments, as well as effective dynamic range and contrast.
As the inevitable and improbable lieto fine ran its course, Elviro sat to the side with head in hands, and issued a snide, noisy yawn. Ironically, through the three hours of music, there was nothing at all in the vocal and instrumental performances that might induce such an exhalation. This was an exciting, entertaining romp through the rough, the ridiculous and the romantic, brought to a calming close by Romilda’s sweet, and infectious, air, ‘Caro voi siete’.
Il Pomo d’Oro return to the Barbican Hall in May 2019 to perform Handel’s Agrippina with Joyce DiDonato in title role and Fagioli as Nerone. Don’t miss it.
Claire Seymour
Handel: Serse (concert performance)
Il Pomo d’Oro ; Maxim Emelyanychev (director/harpsichord), Franco Fagioli (Serse), Vivica Genaux (Arsamene), Delphine Galou (Amastre), Inga Kalna (Romilda), Francesca Aspromonte (Atalanta), Biagio Pizzuti (Elviro), Andreas Wolf (Ariodate)
Barbican Hall, London; Friday 26th October 2018.