Night After Night

Funny business.

I saw Bartlett Sher's daffy production of Rossini's Il Barbiere di Siviglia twice last season and enjoyed it tremendously both times, but I still went into Saturday night's performance at the Met with a high degree of principled uncertainty, shall we say. The big deal was the New York debut of Latvian mezzo Elīna Garanča (left), a 31-year-old performer whose European appearances have been highly touted; based on the two recital CDs I'd heard, I was impressed with the voice but largely unmoved by the interpretations.

Garanča, the subject of a nice profile by George Loomis in the New York Sun last Thursday, was not the only artist making a first appearance Saturday night. Spanish tenor José Manuel Zapata, an artist unknown to me, made his company debut as Almaviva, and John Michael Moore took on the small role of Fiorello. And I'd not previously seen Italian baritone Franco Vassallo, who made his company debut as Figaro in 2005 and repeated the role here, though I enjoyed his work in the recently released DVD of last season's Puritani.

When I first saw Sher's spare, perpetual-motion production, I felt that its lasting success would depend largely on the singers engaged in the principal roles. The original cast -- Flórez as Almaviva, Damrau and DiDonato as Rosina, and Mattei as Figaro -- filled the vast spaces left by the sketchy sets with the overwhelming power of their personalities. Mattei's oversize, swaggering rock-star machismo and playful demeanor in seemed especially crucial. (Unfortunately I didn't get to see Russell Braun's performances and wasn't able to compare.)

The most welcome news on Saturday night, then, was that Vassallo managed to fill the role with just as much charisma as Mattei, and sometimes sounded even more stylish. He had a similarly scene-stealing flair. Zapata, working with a cold according to a pre-curtain announcement, sounded slightly rough at the beginning and end of the night, especially at the highest end of his range. In between those points, however, he was solid and engaging, and engaged in some crooning that was positively swoon-worthy. In place of Flórez's slender elegance and boyish charm, Zapata offered what my female companion called a "teddy-bear" quality.

Garanča sang gorgeously, and created a Rosina distinct from those of last season. Damrau's Rosina had a hard edge, and even seemed a bit too steely and aggressive at times. Di Donato seemed very nearly perfect: frisky, vulnerable and resourceful. Garanča demonstrated hints of both qualities, as well as patrician bearing, a coquettish streak and an occasion air of desperation. Her characterization didn't always feel quite as finished as those of her predecessors, but it was viable and enjoyable all the same.

Bruno Praticò's Bartolo, equipped with a cute little clutch-purse chihuahua in one scene, was a roly-poly, blubber-cheeked delight. Praticò was sensational in patter taken at a breakneck pace, and remarkably he was also a good deal more sympathetic than the average Bartolo. Peter Rose's Basilio was solid if not as domineering as that of Samuel Ramey last season. Jennifer Check, as Berta, displayed sharp comedic timing and a penetrating voice. Rob Besserer's portrayal of Ambrogio retained its ghoulishly Riff Raff charm.

Sher's production remains much as it was, though there are new bits of funny business crammed into nearly every nook and cranny: more oranges and pumpkins, the aforementioned dog, Rosina's breathy "olé" during Almaviva's serenade. Falsetto squeals and other silly voices popped up with greater frequency.

But two older bits didn't come off this time. Ambrogio's uproarious sole utterance was swallowed by scenery applause -- imagine! (This also happened last spring, and could be fixed simply by having Almaviva wait another beat or two after the curtains part before offering his last "Gioia e pace.")

Also gone was the fiery explosion that sends that character tumbling backward through Bartolo's house; Jay Nordlinger was happy to see this omitted in his New York Sun review today, but it seemed like a pyrotechnic mishap to me, given that the program still altered audience members to the production's use of "explosive noises and fire and smoke effects."

Harpsichordist Robert Morrison's accompaniment was always imaginative and appropriate. And apart from a slightly shaky overture, conductor Frédéric Chaslin drew a tidy, effective performance from the orchestra. Audience response was generous, and considerably more than that for Garanča and Praticò. The reception for Chaslin and Sher seemed noticeably cooler.

Still, this is a solid cast in a vibrant, imaginative imaginative production. It's reassuring to think that if Sher's Barbiere does in fact require larger-than-life performers to fill up its gaps, there currently seems to be no lack of bright performers capable of doing the job. And Garanča is clearly a major star in the making. I couldn't help but wonder how long it will be until she's cast in something with Anna Netrebko. Così, maybe?

More reviews: Bernard Holland, Clive Barnes, Ronald Blum, Harry Rolnick

Playlist:

Wayne Shorter - Speak No Evil (Blue Note)

Dave Douglas and Keystone - Moonshine (Greenleaf)

David Sylvian and Robert Fripp - Damage (DGM/Virgin)

Giacomo Puccini - Manon Lescaut - Renata Scotto, Plácido Domingo, Pablo Elvira, Metropolitan Opera Chorus and Orchestra/James Levine (Rhapsody.com stream)

Funkadelic - Hardcore Jollies (Priority)

Marillion - Friends and Family (Racket downloads)

Sonic Youth - Rather Ripped (Geffen)

Olivier Messiaen - La Nativité du Seigneur - Olivier Latry (Deutsche Grammophon)

Nine Horses - Snow Borne Sorrow (Samadhi Sound)

John Corigliano - Circus Maximus (Symphony No. 3) (publisher's demo); The Ghosts of Versailles - Teresa Stratas, Marilyn Horne, Metropolitan Opera/James Levine (Deutsche Grammophon video)

Musical youth.

New York Philharmonic Young People's Concert at Avery Fisher Hall
The New York Times, January 14, 2008

I got about halfway through a post about the Met's Saturday night performance of Il barbiere di Siviglia on Sunday afternoon before duty called me away; I hope to finish and post it later today. The short version: Garanča intriguing, Zapata promising, Vassallo outstanding.

Plus ca change...

On Monday morning, I had the pleasure of addressing attendees at Chamber Music America's New Music Institute, held at New York University's Kimmel Center. Friendly interrogator Richard Kessler and I discussed successful strategies for programming, presentation and promotion of new works. We covered a lot of ground, including multimedia presentations, themed programs and alternative venues. The conversation and Q&A session both completely zipped by, and the mood was decidedly upbeat.

One topic touched upon both during my session and in a terrific conversation with the Ying Quartet that immediately preceded it was the notion of playing a premiere more than once during a single concert. The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center's "Double Exposure" series was held up as a particularly satisfying example, and similar efforts elsewhere were mentioned by performers and presenters in the audience.

I thought about this again this evening when I came upon a pertinent passage in the book I'm currently reading. This section dealt with the first American performance of a new piece by a sophisticated contemporary composer, presented not at one of the major concert halls but at the New School for Social Research. In an innovative bit of programming, the new piece was followed by three pre-Baroque works and a single movement from a contrasting contemporary string quartet Then, "very properly and wisely" according to the reviewer, the first piece was played again -- "as important works should be, whenever possible, at one and the same concert."

The book I'm reading is Olin Downes on Music (Simon & Schuster, 1957), a collection of reviews spanning the years 1906 to 1955. The article in question, dated March 13, 1931, details Downes's very favorable impressions of Béla Bartók's String Quartet No. 4, given its American premiere the previous evening by a group called the New World String Quartet.

Following the initial account of the Bartók were arrangements of "a Symphonia by Isaac, a Ricercare of Vecchi, and a Fantasia of Gibbons," according to Downes, after which followed the second movement from Schoenberg's String Quartet No. 3. Then the Bartók was played again. No report sadly, as to how much of the audience remained in place for the second performance.

There are probably even earlier examples of this kind of programming to be found; this one just happened to jump out at me tonight. Sometimes it really does seem that there is nothing new under the sun.

A passage of the review specifically devoted to the Schoenberg piece is also enlightening, if for completely different reasons. I've only read as far as February 1934 in the Downes anthology -- the tantalizing prospect of Virgil Thomson's Four Saints in Three Acts currently waits under my bookmark! -- and at this point Downes has yet to make any sort of peace with the music of Schoenberg, whom he scrutinized somewhat mercilessly from a psychoanalytical perspective in an earlier essay. (Schoenberg in turn took Downes to task for certain of his more rancorous opinions, and not only those pertaining to himself; see here, for instance.)

But in this case, Downes seems to have suggested, hearing the single section in isolation, and in this context, yielded unanticipated benefits:

Was it the excellent arrangement and contrast of the program's material which made the listener so appreciative? The one movement of a Schoenberg quartet could be listened to with a degree of concentration that it would not have been possible to give the whole work. As a result, the exceptional unity of the movement and the relative conservatism of its polyphonic scheme were doubly manifest, one listener remarking that if she heard that music again she feared she might like it. This apprehension was shared by the writer!

Playlist:

King Crimson - The Roxy, Los Angeles, CA, Nov. 23, 1981 (DGMlive.com download)

Michael Gandolfi - The Garden of Cosmic Speculation - Atlanta Symphony Orchestra/Robert Spano (Telarc, due out Feb. 26)

Anaal Nathrakh - Eschaton (Season of Mist)

Robert Glasper - Canvas (Blue Note)

Brad Mehldau Trio - Day Is Done (Nonesuch)

Bruce Springsteen - Nebraska (Columbia)

Fired up.

(Posted this morning on the TONY Blog)

Lorin Maazel, music director of the New York Philharmonic and an experienced hand in the opera pit, returned to the Metropolitan Opera last night after a 45-year absence to conduct Die Walküre, the second installment in Richard Wagner's "Ring" cycle and arguably the most popular. It was big news, and an event worth getting excited about: Even those of us who aren't always fond of the musical micromanagement in Maazel's performances with the Phil could appreciate the rare opportunity to catch a stateside opera house appearance by this undeniably potent conductor.

Maybe it was that very sense of novelty that made certain characteristics of last night's performance—which might have seemed like fussy obsessiveness in a Phil concert—come across as so sharply detailed, exacting and exciting at the Met. There's no denying that James Levine musters more genuine warmth and sensuality in Walküre, and Valery Gergiev, who conducted the opera's last performances here in 2004-05, wrung out more blood, sweat and passion. What Maazel provided was an extraordinarily lucid account that underscored every little detail of orchestral characterization. No matter how thick and heavy Wagner's music was, Maazel summoned a transparency that approached the quality of chamber music. You could argue that he sacrificed surging momentum, but Maazel offered a razor-sharp clarity audible from the opening bars, and subtly emphasized each passing leitmotif (those musical themes that Wagner used to identify characters and plot developments) for narrative cogency. Credit also belongs to the Met's extraordinary orchestra, with extra-high marks to the bass clarinet and English-horn soloists.

The cast assembled for last night's performance was about as fine a group of Wagnerians as you're likely to encounter these days. Clifton Forbis was powerful, robust and virile as the doomed warrior Siegmund, with Adrianne Pieczonka a strong, strikingly sensuous Sieglinde. The pair sounded good together; physically, they were a strikingly well-matched pair of siblings. Mikhail Petrenko, a young Russian bass, sang well as Hunding, but lacked the edge of nastiness and brutality essential to the character. (You could almost complain that his Hunding was too sympathetic—a problem when you're supposed to be rooting for those crazy Wälsung sibling-spouses.)

James Morris remained an unassailable Wotan, his voice aged agreeably enough and his dramatic instincts profound; few if any actors could match Morris's realization of the character's majesty, regret and terrible fury. As his daughter, the Valkyrie Brünnhilde, Lisa Gasteen got off to a slow start: her acting little more than leaping around and mugging, her high notes crashing considerably short of the mark in those cruel opening exclamations. Happily, Gasteen warmed up steadily, and her chemistry with Morris went a long way toward covering up shortcomings. Best in Brünnhilde's quieter, more introspective moments, she was extraordinarily moving in "War es so schmählich," the heartbreaking third-act passage in which Brünnhilde asks her father whether her disobedience—for which he is about to strip away his favorite daughter's immortality and banish her from his realm forever—was really so wrong, given that she was enacting his own forbidden desires.

The strongest performance of all was that of mezzo Stephanie Blythe as Fricka, Wotan's much-betrayed wife. Through her imperious presence and rich, powerful singing, Blythe created a Fricka that could credibly cause the most potent of gods to tremble, cower and finally capitulate. Like Natalie Dessay in the Met's season-opening Lucia di Lammermoor, Blythe took a scary tumble on stage; like Dessay, Blythe remained intensely focused on her character, suggesting the perfectly plausible notion that Fricka had simply lunged headlong to block Wotan's escape. An audience that warmly greeted the performers during their curtain calls mustered an extra intensity for Blythe.

The Metropolitan Opera will present five more performances of Die Walküre through February 9; on January 28, Deborah Voigt and Michelle DeYoung take over for Pieczonka and Blythe, respectively. Ticket information is available on the Met website.

Get in the Ring.

Walking on 34th Street this afternoon on my way to TONY's palacial west side HQ, I was startled to see a photograph of Lorin Maazel staring out from the front page of the New York Sun. (The photo, left, is credited to Stephen Chernin/AP.) Immediately alarmed, I rushed over to the newsstand to see what it was that had landed our maestro on page one.

Turns out it was nothing more -- and nothing less -- than Maazel's return to the Metropolitan Opera podium after a 45-year absence, for tonight's performance of Wagner's Die Walküre. The newspaper actually started George Loomis's feature interview on the front page -- above the fold.

I must say, for some reason I find that very inspiring.

Playlist:

Kyle Gann - Private Dances; Time Does Not Exist; On Reading Emerson - Sarah Cahill; Hovenweep; The Day Revisited* - Bernard Gann*, Kyle Gann*, Da Capo Chamber Players (New Albion)

Olivier Messiaen - La Nativité du Seigneur - Hans-Ola Ericsson (Bis)

Jonny Greenwood - There Will Be Blood (original soundtrack) (Nonesuch)

Anaal Nathrakh - Domine Non Es Dignus (Season of Mist) and Hell Is Empty and All the Devils Are Here (FETO)

Black Flag - Damaged and My War (SST)

Wayne Shorter - Introducing Wayne Shorter (Vee-Jay/Koch Jazz)

Mikel Rouse - International Cloud Atlas (Exitmusic)

Saliva Bastards - Saliva Bastards (Durian)

Black Sabbath - Reunion (Epic)

Radiohead - In Rainbows (W.A.S.T.E.)

Vincenzo Bellini - I Puritani - Anna Netrebko, Eric Cutler, Franco Vassallo, John Relyea, Metropolitan Opera Chorus and Orchestra/Patrick Summers (Deutsche Grammophon)

The heavenly music corporation.

Miguel Frasconi -- composer, improviser and player of a magical glass menagerie -- has marked the recent passing of Karlheinz Stockhausen and Ike Turner with an utterly ingenious mash-up that absolutely demands to be heard. He's also pondered some reader feedback about the piece. (Thanks to the Friday Informer for the tip.)

We mean it, man.

Flushing Mall, January 1, 2008:

The first sign was taped over a spotless sink in the men's room, the second over a plastic trash bin.

Around the corner, two impressive limited-edition Be@rbrick 1000% size figures stared out of a toy store window.

Dr. LP and I opted for two of the regular-size Be@rbrick figures (roughly 2.5" tall) as souvenirs of happy holidays spent far from work, reconnecting after a long absence. Work resumed today; blogging will follow shortly. Happy new year!

P.S. Be@rbrick say whuh? Go here.