Passionate about the Passion

Coincidental with Mr. Haefliger's passing is the fact that it is Lent and time for my yearly pilgrimage through my St. Matthew Passion recordings. There are some traditions that I hold dear and revisting this monument of a work is one of them.

Over the years that I've studied the Matthew Passion, both as a singer and conductor, I am always amazed at the sheer beauty of the piece. It is certainly as dramatic as any opera, but the moments that allow us to reflect, take me to place of greatest peace and beauty.

My collection is neither large nor small and I don't intend to review every performance. None, I regret, is perfect, but many capture the spirit of the work. My first was the Klemperer and while I can no longer take the ponderous tempi, it is the first time that I appreciated Pears' art and I wouldn't be without Ludwig's wonderful singing. On the other hand I could definitely do without Schwarzkopf's.

I can no longer listen to Harnoncourt's first recording since Ridderbusch sings Christus and given what I learned about him after his death, I find it too perverse. Happily Harnoncourt recorded it a second time with the wonderful Christine Schäfer, Christoph Prégardien, and Matthias Goerne. I really like original instruments in Bach and I find Harnoncourt's eccentricities effective in this recording.

I don't take well to Gardiner's way with Bach, which I feel emphasizes the dance roots to the point of flippancy. I need my Bach somewhat more weighty than this. I'm also somewhat allergic to Rolfe-Johnson's voice in this recording, although much of the other solo singing is quite beautiful.

Speaking of beautiful solo singing, perhaps the most beautiful of all is to be found on Münchinger's indifferently conducted version. Pears is scarcely less good (although less dramatic) than on the Klemperer and the only (relatively) weak spot is Höffgen, whose voice isn't as opulent as Ludwig or Ferrier. But Ameling, Krause, and Prey, are first-rate. And above all stands Wunderlich. The are no words to adequately describe the beauty of his singing. If there is such a thing as perfection, this is it.

There are other versions that warrant a footnote. Gunther Ramin's wartime recording with the authoritative Karl Erb and masterful Gerhard Hüsch. Unfortunately this abridgement (oddly some recitatives are left in, shorn of their arias) make it a curiosity. Karajan's 1950 version gives us the incomparable and tragic Ferrier in the alto arias and Walther Ludwig as an effective Evangelist.

But the recording I turn too most often is the 1958 Richter. It is no longer HIP, but it seems paced just right to me and besides Haefliger has the wonderful Seefried (a little late but still good) and Fischer-Dieskau in his most fluid voice in the arias. Töpper is also very good and although I have a little problem with Engen's voice, I find this the performance that moves me most of all.

The great thing about a piece like this is that it inspires and even demands constant re-evaluations. So as conductors look at it anew, I too will continue to listen and learn from the great Bach and those who aspire to bring him to life.

Parting is such sweet sorrow

I spent much of yesterday packing up and disposing of some of my treasured LPs. Most I've either replaced with CD, or don't really plan on listening to again. There are a few used records I picked up in college thinking that I might like them (I didn't) and a few that belonged to old roommates (sorry Ian, I held on to your Go-Go's album as long as I could). But at the behest (nay, command) of my spouse, it was time to divest myself of them. I will certainly miss them, but there is a time in life when you have to prioritize. So fare thee well my old friends. I will miss you. (There are still LPs in my collection by the way. I'm a rather sentimental fellow and there are a few things that I will never part with).

Which makes me think of times gone by, when I would spend hours sifting through the stock of first E.J. Korvettes (the best and cheapest record collection) and then Tower Records. Both are sadly departed. Korvettes for decades and Tower for mere months.

So the record store, as we knew it has virtually disappeared. And we now must survive on its virtual alternative. The industry is now in deep trouble and some predict that the CD is marked for extinction.

I hope not. I certainly do my share of (legal) downloading, but there is nothing to me like the physical evidence of the music. I long nostalgically for the days of the large LP boxes but accept the smaller packaging of the CD. I miss the Soria Series and other lavish booklets but willingly squint (I need a new prescription) as I read the CD booklets.

This was driven home to me just yesterday as I took out my newly purchased copy of Peter Lieberson's Neruda Songs with the wonderful Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, in her final recording. Reading the booklet I cried at Alex Ross' and Mr. Lieberson's tributes and realized that had I downloaded the tracks from iTunes, I would have missed this as part of the experience. So for the time being, I will just have to make room in my life (and shelves) for more CDs and (purist that I am) the occasional LP.

Lebrecht is in the house

It seems that Norman Lebrecht has joined the blogging world on the esteemed Arts Journal.

I often disagree with him, but his is a voice that should be heard. Previously his online contribution had been his column on La Scena Musicale.

It seems he plans to blog on

what is happening to our fragile sound world now that the steady flow of classical recordings has died to a thin trickle.

Which is certainly a valid and apropos topic. Although I expect to disagree with him often, I plan to read him religiously.

I think you should too.

Ernst Haefliger

Not much commented upon, but I think of great importance, is the death of tenor Ernst Haefliger at the age of 87. There was an obituary in my local paper, but to my knowledge none has appeared in the NY Times. Perhaps it is because he didn't have a great American career and yet his importance can't be denied.

Although he sang opera at the Deutsche Opera Berlin for two decades, he will most associated with the Bach Evangelists and that is how it should be. He was the premier Bach interpreter from the time of Karl Erb until Peter Schreier. He did not have the beautiful liquid voice that Wunderlich had for example, but it was an appreciable talent, as Karl Richter rightly recognized in his several recordings of the Bach Passions and Cantatas. Later on he finally appeared under the Met's aegis as the Speaker in two performances of Schoenberg's Gurrelieder, one at Carnegie Hall and one in Japan.

I treasure the 1958 Richter recording of the St. Matthew Passion, with the incomparable Irmgard Seefried, Hertha Töpper and Kieth Engen, not to mention a relatively young Fischer-Dieskau. This set the standard for an era and while there are certainly more HIP accounts now, this has not lost its timelessness.

Update: The NY Times has now posted an obituary on its website (twice actually).

Julian Budden - RIP

Surely the most important studies for those of us who love the works of Verdi are the three volumes by Julian Budden on his operas. He has left us now and the world is now poorer.

His three volume study was certainly the seminal bit of scholarship which led the way into taking the operas of Verdi as seriously as they deserve. The critical due they deserve is much more than they often receive and it was Budden's work that led the way to reversing that trend. They are not just important, they are indispensable.

The Met at the Movies

I have to admit to underestimating the appeal of the live Metropolitan Opera moviecasts. I've attended two, both "encore" presentations and was surprised at both. The Magic Flute rebroadcast was the first and filled two screens (in a 20-plex) to capacity. The audiences were enthusiastic and my experience (despite some sub-standard sound) was positive.

My second was The First Emperor which was predictably more sparsely attended. Yet I was surprised that no one left mid opera (although some took a popcorn break at the intermission) and the response from the attendees was generally positive. Which is how I would describe my experience (the sound was better, but not perfect) if not my reaction to the work itself.

My reaction to the apparent success of this venture is mixed. It is certainly a good move by the Met which brings its product to a wider audience in a more controlled environment than a TV telecast (which had virtually disappeared until this new venture resurrected it). It essentially recreates the Spring Tour of days long gone and brings high-quality opera to places that may not have that opportunity.

And yet, it also brings it to places that do. And there is the rub. No doubt the Met Development department will try to capitalize on this and reach this audience for its fundraising efforts. This might have the effect of syphoning funds from local opera companies, which already compete with the Met as "America's Opera Company" through the Saturday broadcasts. The ubiquitous (and long-lived by Internet standards) Opera-L is decidedly Met-centric and has adopted these moviecasts, as well as the Sirius broadcasts as a major source of discussion.

Let's just not let the Met supplant the local opera companies that grew to replace the absence of the Spring Tour. Local supporters must continue to support their local opera because nothing beats the live experience.

The Last First Emperor

Pardon me. I dozed off for a bit.

My friends and I constantly confuse the First (opera by Tan Dun) and the Last (film by Bertolucci) Emperors.

There is no mistaking the works themselves. I ventured to my local cineplex for my second moviecast (what do we call these?) from the Met. The first (The Magic Flute) was marred by bad sound, but was otherwise enjoyable. I didn't understand some of the cuts (Monostatos gets two verses of his aria, but Dies Bildnis is bezaubernd schön gets cut to shreds), but the performance was good and I enjoyed the transfer to big screen.

The First Emperor is somewhat more problematic. First of all the performances were entirely admirable. Placido Domingo remains a wonder and Elizabeth Futral was fabulous. The others were also very good (although why waste Suzanne Mentzer in such a nothing part?). I liked the production to varying degrees, but in general positively.

But the piece itself seems barely worth the effort (not to mention the expense). There are moments of superior music (the opening 20 minutes) and moments of embarrassment (the opening of Act II). The libretto is not very strong.

Nevertheless I'm glad to have gone. And despite my earlier concern, the moviecasts themselves seem to be a hit. But more on that after I've had my coffee and woken up a bit.