A very nice day

My wife had a work-related event in Manhattan (we live in NJ) Saturday morning, and I had an afternoon rehearsal. Having just finished Ron Chernow's very interesting and very readable biography of Alexander Hamilton, I thought I'd catch the last weekend of an exhibit of his life at the NY Historical Society. This also enabled me to take a nice stroll through the park to visit The Gates.

Cynic that I am, I thought I'd subscribe to the view that The Gates was a colossal waste of $23 million and a blight on the beautiful Central Park. Parks are my favorite places to visit when I'm in a new city and being a born and bred NYer, I'm very proud of Central Park (although I'm also very partial to Prospect Park in Brooklyn). I view any attempt to commercialize, exploit or deface the park (like the Disney event of a number of years ago) as sacrilege.

Well, to my surprise, I came away with a somewhat different view. I ended up enjoying The Gates much more than I expected, although maybe not for reasons that the artists intended. I'm no art expert, but to me each individual gate wasn't much (kind of ugly and utilitarian), but eventually, after viewing them from a variety of different locations and angles, I was quite taken with the changing form and colors. Depending on how, where and when you looked, the various permutations of orange were quite striking and the variety of shapes formed by the groups along the path made each step a new experience.

But the thing I enjoyed the most was watching the people. The park was full to brimming on a rather cold Saturday morning, with tourists and NYers, singles, couples, families, old and young alike. I love to people-watch and I was very interested in their expressions, and their reactions. One couple I saw, just standing there, watching a "gate", looking as if they expected something to happen. Some people just strolled, somewhat oblivous. Others took lots of pictures, some jumped up to touch the fabric. And other walked and talked, paused to look and take it the sights and then continued on. My pastor told the story of an 80 year lady, who over the two weeks of the exhibition walked all of the "gate" paths (there are some 23 miles of them) thinking of the various gates in her life.

Despite my initial cynicism, I think it did bring more people into the city and into the park in particular. I'm told that it was hard to get a hotel room in NY during the 2 weeks (17 days actually) of the display. I only visited a small area of the park, but friends who were in various locations said that it was full throughout and that tourists ventured into locations they might not have otherwise. Ultimately, I found the whole experience rather exhilirating.

After my brief look at the Hamilton exhibit (very interesting to see the source documents I had just read about), I went to my rehearsal. I suppose it was unremarkable, except that I was singing a song by Hugo Wolf, a composer who had hitherto not figured in my repertoire. What have I been missing? I'd heard the Italienisches Liederbuch and Spanisches Liederbuch, but for some reason I'd never sung any of his songs. In rehearsal of my allotted lied, Gebet from the Mörike-Lieder I was struck with the genius that allowed him to encapsulate a whole range of emotion into a relative short, deceptively simple song. It is a prayer, accepting pain or happiness, realizing that life generally falls somewhere in the middle. But the end, unresolved (a colleague called it a "Tristan moment"), seems to represent the quest and lack of finality in life. While there is life, there is no end and always the chance for something new.

This was a nice day.

Happy Birthday Enrico

On this date in 1873 the great Enrico Caruso was born. I used to just take his greatness for granted, but when his complete recordings became available on CD, (first on BMG, then better transfers on Pearl and even better on Naxos) I took the time to listen to it all and realized that this was nothing to take for granted. He truly was great. There are a few duds in the recordings, but take the time to listen to just a few and even through the "dim" sound, his superiority will come through. His was not just a great voice. He was a great singer and artist.

Oh to have heard him live!

This is classical (rant!)

Browsing Amazon.com, I came upon the page advertising The Decca Store, which says:

The Decca Records Group comprises some of the richest treasures in the history of recorded classical music, including the catalogs from Philips and Decca. Whether you're looking for essentials or supplements to fill out your collection, you'll find a trove of great titles in our Decca Records Store.

Clicking on the link brings to veritable treasure trove of classical music (is there an emoticon for tongue-in-cheek?). "New and Notable" is Hayley Westenra (who is she?), the "Superstar Artist" is Andrea Bocelli (in regular or surround sound) and "Spotlight" on Bond. But my favorite, under the heading of "Opera, Ballet, and Performing Arts on DVD" is... wait for it... Donny Osmond - Live.

With interviews, features, and footage of the still-boyish heartthrob performing live in London, Donny Osmond - Live is a must-have for his legion of fans, and just one of the many vocal and opera titles available on DVD.

And they want me to buy THEIR recommendations?

Bass Clef Envy

Perhaps the most perfect moment in opera is the 2nd Act finale of Le Nozze di Figaro. I'm listening to it now (in the new recording by Rene Jacobs, which, Simon Keenlyside's Count aside, I'm not taking to much), and I'm reminded how there are certain baritone and bass roles that I've always coveted.

The baritone parts always seemed the most interesting. Look at Figaro for instance. The Count is trying to use his power to sleep with Figaro's wife. When Figaro discovers this, he tries to outwit the Count with his cunning schemes. When was the last time you've heard the words wit or cunning used to describe anything having to do with a tenor?

The other part I always wished I could play was Scarpia. Here is an interesting character. Intelligent, clever and self-aware. "Come tu m'odi, così ti voglio!" He doesn't need charisma or romance to win Tosca, he has power and guile.

I'm not complaining, mind you. In my busiest days I got to sing some of the great romantic tenor roles (Rodolfo, Hoffman, Don Jose), but most tenor characters have always struck me as one-dimensional: fall in love, get the girl and then either she dies, you die or both. There are exceptions of course, but on the whole, not many in the core Italian/French repertoire that I sang. The mitigant is of course the beautiful music that you get to sing as a leading tenor. I guess I shouldn't kvetch. After all I did get to sing Che gelida manina et. al.

But for once, I would have loved to play the bad guy, the funny guy or maybe just the interesting guy.

Performer etiquette

With all the discussion about audience applauding or not, I would like to turn the table, just a bit.

There is not a singer I admire more than Jose Van Dam. But I was very disappointed to see him hide behind a music stand at last night's recital at Alice Tully Hall. I suppose there are adequate excuses: he's singing Golaud at the Met, had sung another recital program early in the week and filled in at relatively the last minute for Anne Sofie von Otter (who in turn filled in for Lorraine Hunt Lieberson) with the Met orchestra at Carnegie Hall.

But c'mon! The recital was full of Schubert chestnuts (Ständchen, Du bist die Ruh), the Schumann Eichendorff Liederkreis and the Wolf Harfenspieler Lieder. Not really esoteric repertoire.

Perhaps this caused me to feel that M. Van Dam was somewhat detached from some of the songs (he was also coughing and clearing his throat a fair amount, which may have distracted him as well). The contrast with the two encores (from Dichterliebe), which were sung from memory, was striking. For the first time all night, I really felt that he was inside the pieces that he was singing.

Am I alone in this? I've always felt that song recitals should (barring remarkable circumstances) be sung from memory. As a singer, I've always felt this freed me from the notes on the page to do something interesting with the song. I can sightread just about as well as anyone, but only when I've memorized and lived with a piece, do I really feel that I can do it justice. As an audience member, I feel it brings me closer to the performer and the work. The music stand is a barrier.

Greetings and salutations

Thanks to vilaine fille for the kind welcome. I've been enjoying her blog for a short while now, but knew I had to read regularly with her wonderful post marking the death of Verdi.

As to whether I'm eminently sane or not: only time will tell :)

Stop the ssh'ers

I never thought I'd say it, especially after my rant of a few days ago. But last night I wanted to ssh the ssh'ers.

The topic has been appearing on blogs of late: Drew McManus brings it up again and despite declaration of a moratorium (and hiding being the Chinese New Year) Alex Ross has thrown in his bit again as well. I'm speaking of course about applause between movements.

At last night's recital by Jose Van Dam at Alice Tully Hall, a few were inclined to applaud between songs in the first Schubert set. Although I wasn't so moved, I was inclined to let them express their pleasure which didn't seem entirely out of place (these were individual songs, not part of a "cycle") and no "mood" would have been broken. But the ssh'ers reigned and quickly silenced those who wanted to express their appreciation of M. Van Dam's artistry.

Applaud or not, that's up to you. But to silence those who would like to seems to me to be all wrong.

No time for music

There's been little time for music recently, except of course in my head. I wonder if any other musicians, or non-musicians have this constantly running soundtrack going in your head. It usually arises from something that I had been listening to, but I have to admit that there is rarely a time when some sound or another is going through my brain (I'm glad something is at least). And it's rarely just a tune, but usually a full blown composition.

Now what I need to do is expand my repertoire. My head usually plays Verdi or Beethoven (Egmont or Eroica usually). I'd really like to hear a little Bartok in there once in a while or Schubert. I rarely hear opera though, odd since that is my overwhelming passion. Perhaps the high notes are just too much for it.

Dumbing down

The Artful Manager reports on an article in the Christian Science Monitor about trying to tailor Broadway material to suit younger audiences and emply "hip" marketing tactics to woo them. Mr. Taylor rightly points out that "Fluffier and safer theater serve to make the experience that much more irrelevant to their lives". If you make the material lighter and less threatening, it is much less likely to keep them interested.

Back when I was in the studio program of the Sarasota Opera, I spent a lot of time going to schools, introducing students to the operas, by singing excerpts, explaining the story and discussing the process with them. I hope that we never talked down to them, but tried to engage them in lively and productive conversation. At one school, which we were warned was for "troubled" kids who might not be interested, we got so engrossed in the discussion that the alotted time was not enough and we had trouble wrapping up the conversation so that we could make our next appointment.

I can't guarantee that any of these kids go to the opera any more, but I do know that when they attended the actual performance, they were incredibly responsive and engrossed (they cheered when Marcello and Musetta reunite in Act II of La Bohème). Talking to them afterwards, they were all interested and engaged. That's the way to build an audience. Watch Bernstein in the Young People's Concerts. He never dumbs down.

That's what further galls me when some crossover performer is touted as being "good for classical music". It's not good for classical music, simply because it is not classical music. It's something else, valid in its own right, but not beneficial in anyway to opera or symphony.

The other problem, mentioned in the Christian Science Monitor article is cost, but I'll leave that to discuss another time.

Karl Haas RIP

I remember with fondness Karl Haas' program Adventures in Good Music and note with sadness his passing.

When I was working as a cataloguer at the Music Library at Indiana University's School of Music, we used to have the radio in the office tuned to WFIU, the college NPR station constantly. Even as jaded music majors we got a kick out of Karl Haas' programs and I have to say that more than once it offered me a different way to think about classical music.

It also saddens me to think that this is the end of this kind of popular music education program in the US. Perhaps there are others that I'm not aware of, but Haas' program was rare in today's rather barren landscape of cultural programming. His program began in 1959 and he was still at it up until 2 years ago (reruns of older programs are still airing in many markets). I was astonished and heartened to read that for two decades it was the #1 program in its time slot in Detroit and was the highest rated program on WCLV.

I certainly hope that someone takes up the gauntlet and continues the tradition.

Not just another tenor

I just finished listening to Rolando Villazon's two vocal recitals: Italian Opera Arias and Gounod and Massenet arias. This is the real thing! I heard his Metropolitan Opera debut as Alfredo in La Traviata and I honestly thought that he stole the show from Renee Fleming's well-sung but slightly faceless, Violetta. Listening to these two CDs further confirms my thoughts that here is a first rate talent (I will not, on pain of death, call him the 4th tenor). His voice is firm and secure with inherent musicality and a ringing top.

I hope that his career trajectory continues in the positive direction of the past few years. It seems that he has the goods to propel him into a first rate career and once sincerely hopes that the marketing machines don't take him in, chew him up and spit him out. There have been too many wannabe great tenors in recent years, that I can't pin my hopes up too high.

The French Opera aria recording seems to be the more sucessful of the two recordings. The Italian aria recording seems to me to just another collection of the usual suspects (apart from the Duc d'Albe and Nerone aria) which, although sung very well, doesn't efface memories of others. The French aria recording is altogether more interesting, incluing arias from Polyeucte, Roi de Lahore, Griselidis, Roma and Le Mage (the last two I've never heard of). Just to point outtwo of the niceties of this recording, listen to the opening phrases of Ah fuyez, douce image, sung in a real supported piano and his Ange du Paradis, while maybe not as beautifully floated as Gedda's, is quite lovely nonetheless.

Speaking of Gedda and floating, I loved Ken Benson's tribute to him in the recent Met broadcast of Les contes d'Hoffman. The Magische töne recording he played is one of my favorites (Leo Slezak also made a beautiful, if slightly bigger toned recording of this aria). Thanks Ken.

Wagnerian symptoms

I was reading the not very interesting memoir on Ernest Newman, the great critic and author of a four volume biography of Wagner, by his wife Vera. It's all pretty banal and spends more time talking about her vacations with the Koussevitskys, than on his musical life and ideas. I was struck though by one passage where she voices her concern that listening to the entire of Parsifal on recordings might be too tiring for him in his final days.

That reminded me of a quote from the Musical Times, December 1891, which was included in the libretto of the LP version of the Decca/London Siegfried:

The Boston Home Journal reports: Marie Wilt, the soprano who lately committed suicide, once learned the part of Brünnhilde in three weeks. "That finished me," she said, shortly before her death. Schnorr died shortly after Tannhauser, Anders went mad studying Tristan, and Scaria after Parsifal, died insane.

I believe it was after Tristan that Schnorr died (and his widow then developed an obssession with Wagner) but never mind. What struck me is the obviously hazardous nature of listening to, learning or performing Wagner. One hears often about the vocal problems, but obviously not enough about the other phyiscal complications.

On the other hand, I had a slightly different reaction as I was getting over the flu bug and watching the recent Met DVD of Meistersinger. I felt a moment of ectasy as Mattila began the Quintet and then a racing of my pulse as Heppner reached the climax of the Preisleid. After I was done watching this, I felt better. Whether it was Wagner or the regular course of the flu (after all it did take 4 1/2 hours to watch), I'll never know. But I'd like to think it was the music.

Return of the Hero

One of the most gratifying things for me about Saturday's concert at NJPAC with Ben Heppner and the New Jersey Symphony, was how consistently wonderful he sounded. He approached everything with a fearlessness and there was a look of calm assurance on his face. His voice rang out lyrically but powerfully and he applied his very consistent and unique musicianship to everything that he sang.

I'm sure he's tired of hearing this at this point, but it is now evident that whatever problems he was suffering a few years ago, were truly just temporary and now, just history.

What was amazing about that whole period, from an observer's perspective, was that reaction among the cognoscenti was almost entirely supportive. I don't recall reading or hearing anything that predicted that his career was over. No one indulged in the kind of Schadenfreude the way only bitchy opera fans can. Every internet post, conversation or message I read about expressed deep concern about what was going on. I was present at those Meistersingers at the Met, where he began having serious problems and once could sense almost immediately, that the whole audience was rooting for him. The applause at the end was no less than if he had sung every note perfectly.

I'm not sure how to attribute that reaction, especially after having read bitchy, venomous attacks on other singers who've had vocal difficulties. Could it be that he was just "so" good that any aberration from that standard was worrying. Or is it that he just gives out the aura of being a "nice guy" (which I can't verify is true or not because I've never met him), and we all support him. I can't say for sure. I just wish I'd see more of it when other singers (or musicians have problems).

As for Mr. Heppner, BRAVO (again)