Wozzeck: Berg Triumphant in Boston

Saturday, three Mainers made the trek to Boston in unanticipated ice, snow and wind for the Boston Symphony Orchestra's concert performance of Alban Berg's WOZZECK.  Despite the treachery of the roads, and taking about twice as long as usual to get there, it was worth every minute, every slip and slide to be part of this magnificent evening.

Andris Nelsons began the performance with a little bit of concern as one saw audience members looking at each other with puzzled faces, as the conductor simply had the orchestra overpowering Wozzeck and the Captain.  As Wozzeck, Bo Skovhus fared a bit better than poor Toby Spence who could barely be heard in the scene. At one point Spence's jaw was moving, his lips forming words, but one had to take it on faith he was singing.  Collectively, the audience seemed to will Nelsons to reign it in a bit, and somehow (though doubtful it was owing in any part to our "will") he did just that.  Balance was achieved for most of the rest of the night and everyone now being heard, things settled in brilliantly.  

Mr. Spence always seems a bit young for the roles he's been taking these days, Eschenbach, Vere, et al., but the beauty and shape of his voice, combined with terrific dramatic sense makes him a singing actor of the first order, and his Captain Saturday was both comical and troubling in all the right ways.

Mr. Skovhus has been thrilling audiences with his take on Berg's antihero for a quarter century now and the role rarely sounds as good as when Bo takes it on.  Indeed, the first reviews from his earliest performances in Hamburg had that "not since Fischer-Dieskau" moniker attached.  It held then, it holds now.  The tragic Everyman is a tightly wound ball of nerves, pathos, and despite his directness in almost all things, always misunderstood, increasing his desperate frustration.  Skovhus presents all of this in his hushed singing, spoken anxiety, cries and ragings against the world.  Wozzeck is pathetic in many ways, but Skovhus, without eschewing that quality, adds a nobility that makes it impossible to not root for him.  Each of his interactions - Captain, Doctor, Andres, and most importantly, Marie, reveals the myriad facets of this complex  tortured soul most (all?)  of us cn identify with.  Add to this Skovhus facial expressions and body language and the role is complete as it can be in every regard, fulfilling his description as a man "running through life like an open razor."  Indeed.

In her role debut with this run, Christine Goerke reveals a Marie equally as tragic, noble and heartbreakingly beautiful as her man.  And as complicated as well.  Like Wozzeck, Marie's character comes through with each of her own interactions - her child, Margaret, the Drum Major, and, of course, Wozzeck. Goerke was in magnificent voice all night; tender here with her son, bawdy girl talk with Margaret, touching and frightened by Wozzeck, all of the nuances of the role pouring out with plush, feminine sound.  Berg provides Marie with one moment that can stop the show; when the Drum Major goes beyond a mere seduction, Marie cries out "Do not touch me!" - and here, Goerke unleashed a tsunami of sound - "Rühr mich nicht an!"  - an explosion hanging in the otherwise silenced hall like a Walkyrian war cry.  It. Was. Thrilling.

Franz Hawalta's Doctor was appropriately slick and egotistical.  Renée Tatum made the most one can out of Margaret, with voice one hopes to hear in much roles.  Christopher Ventris still showed plenty of voice and stage presence as the Drum Major, while Mauro Peter ’provided a different, more delicate tenor as Wotan's comrade, Andres.  Zachary Altman and David Kravitz were terrific as the Apprentices, with Altman displaying a voice that immediately made me sit up and take notice of.  The :"Bar Singers" were as good as I've ever heard - better than most, in Berg's beautifully husehd pseudo-Palestrina.

With the least amount to sing, the children of the final scene, along with Marie's Child, made the ending as chillingly tragic as one could hope for - if "hope for" is even the right phrase to use here.

Nelson's reading of the score was crystal clear at every moment, amplifying Berg's nightmarish soundscape throughout, and all of its beauty with virtuoso displays from his players.  Of course it happens easily, expectedly in the big bits, but here, too, we were treated to memorable magic in those quiet sections.  A perfect example is the introduction of the celeste at the end of Marie's lullaby where the notes sparkle ;like stars in the darkness.  

Then there are the two biggest orchestral moments.  First, that twice repeated chord following Marie's murder, its crescendo swelling anjd puncutated by timpani like the definition of violence broken by the out-of-tune piano like a welcome to hell.  Then, the intermezzo before the final scene. Nelsons milked them for all they were worth and the effect was chilling.

As the final notes repeated, dissolving into nothingness, the audience held quiet, complete silence, not a rustle of programs, a cough . . . nothing, for perhaps 20 seconds - which felt like eternity, before the house erupted into a roar of cheers and bravi.  

If I were near New York, I'd be at the Carnegie Hall performance tomorrow night (March 15). Go!

Difficult Operas and Excellent Performances

.for as difficult a work as "Falstaff" is to perform - and I think it really takes absolutely top class musicians as well as interpreters to pull it off - I'm surprised at how good so many of the recordings are.

A friend made the above observation about Falstaff and it immediately jogged my memory toward a conversation from years ago I'd had with a friend discussing the similar phenomenon of recordings and performances of Debussy's Pelleas et Melisande and Berg's Lulu and Wozzeck.

Adding to the above phenomenon is the fact these works, while known, at least to a certain degree by most operagoers they are, not unlike Falstaff, true "repertoire pieces" with one encountering them with far less frequency the numerous operas making up that class.

We pondered why this is, and a lot of it boiled down to one critical component: the conductor. That the works have failed to take hold with the greater opera going public is not because of some inherent unworthiness on their part . . . to the contrary, many of the greatest musicians place these works at or near the top of their favorite and most respected works, but rather that, for any number of reasons, they do not immediately resonate with, or are perhaps misunderstood by those whose ears are trained to want more obvious (or, if one prefers, "tuneful") melodies and traditional harmonies (to say nothing of the stories themselves or their sources.

In my estimation, whenever a conductor decides to take up performances of one of these (or any one of numerous other challenging) operas), it becomes something of a special case, often feeling like a point is trying to be made. It cannot (or should not), however, prove too obvious a point since the last thing anyone wants - and which the work certainly doesn't need - is a precious performance of something many already find difficult to love. (See "backfired")

Nonetheless, by that same token, even more extraordinary care than usual needs to be taken in the selection of singers and their preparation given these operas, being neither as popular nor as frequently performed as repertory standards cannot run the risk of being given a performance even remotely close to being called "routine" (even when "routine" should be a goal of excellence).

Fortunately, the results of such herculean efforts seem to pay off in performances and/or recordings that usually serve as conformation for connoisseurs whose works these are the favorites of, and, with any luck at all, win new converts. It doesn't always work, but when it does, oh, boy . . . look out!

It's a Sad, Sad, Sad, Sad World: Goerne's Surprise Wozzeck at the Met

My jaw hit the proverbial floor yesterday when I heard the announcement that, for opening night of the Met's revival of Alban Berg's masterpiece, "Wozzeck," Matthias Goerne was stepping in at the last possible minute for an ailing Thomas Hampson. Goerne agreed sometime late afternoon for a performance (in a staging he'd never done and seen only once) to take part in the performance that would begin only 3 or 4 hours from his decision. (On a side note, I'm certain I wasn't alone in wondering "will he/won't he?" regarding Hampson and this Wozzeck.) Hopefully Mr. Hampson recovers and we get to hear his take on the role, but what a treat to hear one of the 2 or 3 leading Wozzecks of our time in his role debut at the Big House - even if I couldn't be there, thankfully it was carried on Sirius/XM Radio.

First off, having Levine back in the pit was a joy, despite his naysayers who complain of his treating Wozzeck as though it were The Merry Widow. The nuances, beauties, subtleties and in-your-face horrors of Berg's tremendous
score came crashing through, revealing just why this opera is one of the few 20th century operas to have gained such a stronghold on audiences and an obsession for so many (myself included). The celeste music that opens the first scene between Wozzeck and Marie always tears me up, its gentleness like the faintest ray of light peering through the darkest, densest and frightening forest - and Jimmy made this moment truly shine.

Some complain that Goerne is too much of a lieder singer and not enough "oomph" but I love his throaty brand of singing found him to have the perfect mix of beauty and roughness that makes Wozzeck the most pitiable (and oddly loveable - in an entirely different way) character The scenes between Wozzeck and Marie were heartbreaking - right up until his knife takes her. I would have loved to have been able to have been there to see him in this production.

As Marie, Deborah Voigt started off pretty rough and there is almost not a drop of beauty anywhere left in that once most beautiful of voices. Lower, unforced passages, the faintest glimmer of its former beauty tried to leak out, a sad
reminder of what once was. Her commitment, however, seemed total and, some horrifying (and unnecessary) shrieking sounds aside, she was able to create an effective portrayal of this poor anti-heroine. I'm certain seeing her would have made the effect even more powerful.

Peter Hoare was terrific as the Captain as was Mr. O'Neil as the Drum major . . . though his singing made me glad they swapped out Parsifal for Wozzeck as I can't imagine that voice - at least as heard last night - as the new Grail King,
less so, Ms. Voigt as Kundry. Clive Bailey kept the Met tradition going of offering really fine singers as the Doctor in this opera ... they luck out every time, and so do we.

Once again, Levine and the band were the real stars -along with Herr Berg. The interludes did everything the composer wanted them to and maybe just a bit more in offering relief from the brutality of Wozzeck's sad, sad, sad, sad world!

As a "bonus" here is a dress rehearsal shot of Mr. Hampson finishing off Marie!

T'was the Night Before New Year's

And once again, with great apologies to Clement Clarke Moore!)

T’was the night before New Year’s and all through the Met
Garanca was smoking (I mean sans cigarette!)
The boo-birds were readying for opening night,
All dripping with malice – all spry for a fight.
While just hours before, there had been a debut
Dave Pomeroy sang Hoffmann (and pretty well, too!)
Some pronounced the voice “small” . . . others, “vin ordinaire”
Others yawned “he’s not Gedda, why the hell should I care?”

“I miss the old days” seemed the theme of the season
“We had real stars back then,” was the most proffered reason.
“We’d Tebaldi and Milanov and Schipa and Jussi
We had bassos like Pinza, so just keep your Pertusi!”
Others fought back, “they’re dead now, a new day has dawned!”
But the old guard dismissed them and collectively yawned,
“Oh yes, now there’s Handel and di capos galore”
So much quicker than Ambien, do you mind if I snore?”

So, this year we had Tosca, all stripped down and edgy,
Some praised it as “boffo” some yelled “goddamned reggie!”
They clamored for Franco, they demanded “tradition!”
They made it quite clear, “the old way’s our mission.”

Then the Janacek came and the ticket sales ceased
“Why the hell would they do such a depressing piece?
His music’s all spiky, all self-reverential
And with no tunes, why it’s all so damned inconsequential!”
“There’s no plot” - “There’s no story”- “there’s no love scenes” they cried
(And without intermission their bladders were fried!)

So they waited for Hoffmann, they waited so long,
While others complained “the acts’ orders all wrong!”
They wanted the trio, Antonia and such
They wanted it badly, they wanted it much
Then came coughs, cold and fevers as replacements came
(Though Held and Netrebko held fast to their game)
And while Bartlett’s production got mix-ed reviews
The show’s been a hit (so what else is news?)

Still they turned on the Gelb – a great list of complaints
(Turning men like Joe Volpe and Bing into saints)
“Why he’s ruining the Met and he’s killing tradition,
With his operas ‘bout Gandhi and . . . nuclear fission
We want things with nice tunes, we want sets that are pretty!
Not these dirges in darkness all dirty and gritty,
Bring back halcyon days of Nate Merrill and O’Hearn,
For this surely is what TRUE opera lovers yearn,

So, tonight we get Carmen, that hot Spanish wench,
Performed by a Latvian singing in French,
And we’ll see what distinction is brought by Brit, Eyre
(Who made Billy Crudup a hot dame with flair!)
But remember, what matters here most is the story
And of course, Bizet’s score – which is covered in glory . . .

So in honor of opera from Berg to Bellini
Let us bury all hatchets, let’s all raise a martini
(or a glass of champagne or of cider or beer)
And with opera all welcome a Happy New Year!

Happy New Year Everbody!

Portland Symphony: It is Enough

I’m still in “awe” both in mode and mood from Tuesday night’s concert by the Portland Symphony. It was, for me, one of the most exciting programs this ensemble has put together. Brahms’ Academic Festival Overture opened the performance and while there was a slight glitch in timing (two halves of the orchestra seemed momentarily out of sync) and an occasional muffling (soundwise, NOT notewise) of the strings, from early on in the piece there was a sense of occasion and purpose to the playing that expanded brilliantly as the piece grew.

Music Director, Robert Moody brought out all of the disparate qualities Brahms instilled in this miniature masterpiece, offering the full range from raucous energy and humor (one can almost taste the beer in the steins) to the sense of stately elegance and pride with which the work closes. So stirring was the performance that nary a minute between the final chord and a chorus of bravos and general cheering ensued. It was on.

Next up, everybody’s favorite old chestnut, Berg’s Violin Concerto. Okay, maybe not. First, I must say this: Berg is among my favorite composers and 13 years ago when I moved to Maine I already knew my Berg quota would be met only through trips away and recordings. When I saw the first announcement for this season I wrote (or called) friends near and wide . . . repeatedly, that “Berg was coming to Portland.” And not just in something like the more easily accessible post-Mahlerian “Three Orchestral Pieces” but full on with the Violin Concerto. I’ll admit a touch of dismay when before the piece ensued Moody picked up a microphone, though a photocopy of the Bach chorale “Es ist genug” inserted into the program forewarned a lecture on atonality and serialism might ensue, and so it was. I’m always of the opinion the music should speak for itself. Dismay, however, turned to joy, Moody’s enthusiasm (as well as a touch of nervousness) for the piece came through as he explained the structure, and had the orchestra play several of the themes, and involved the audience in a mass choral reading of Bach’s chorale.

What followed was nothing less than remarkable. PSO Concertmaster Charles Dimmick began with a reading that combined three things necessary to pull off this work: a technique that was spot on with amazing intonation and undaunted by the work’s technical challenges; an ability to move within the duplicity of both the confines and excesses of serialism; and finally, an obvious passion for the work itself. That passion was matched and fueled, measure-for-measure by Moody and the orchestra in a performance that oftentimes approached the incandescent. The second movement began (as it should) with a roar and Dimmick’s technical prowess here was allowed to shine with as virtuostic display which was every bit the equal as those from the great Romantic violin concerti. At the work’s conclusion Dimmick’s violin climbed higher – as if to heaven, holding that impossibly high harmonic in the air for an eternity, as the final chords played out. By now my eyes filled with tears and afterwards realized this was a moment I will remember and cherish for the rest of my life.

Intermission found some patrons confused by what they’d just heard and some negative comments about the piece, but I didn’t mind, finding almost all of them comical (particularly the gentleman who claimed to love 12 tone music, but finds this piece to be an example of “another case of the Emperor has no clothes.”

I’ve always wanted to hear Sibelius in Maine. Ol’ Jean was my favorite symphonist when I was growing up, and the Second Symphony was what nabbed me in the first place. As much as I love the work (and as frequently as I’ve heard it performed) only a few performances or recordings have ever felt completely “right” to me. Two would be Sir John Barbirolli and the Halle Orchestra and the decades later recording with Neeme Jarvi and the Gothenberg Orchestra (part of BIS’s complete Sibelius project that remains one of most rewarding projects in modern recording history). Too many conductors bring too much flash and fire to this symphony seemingly forgetful of where Sibelius was from and that fire is not the only thing that burns. Moody and the band got it just right creating an aura that appropriately swept through crisp north woods and might oceanic waves. The first movement danced its way through in typical Sibelius fashion, fragments of stunning melodies and motifs that sometimes are developed and sometimes simply slip away like the end of an icicle hanging from a tree.

As with the opening, the inner movements found Moody alternately playful and intense, allowing the orchestra to move through wildly changing rhythmic patterns and ever shifting sound choirs with a judicious (and remarkable) use of lüftpausen not only allowing the band to “breathe” but also serving to point up the sheer number of extraordinary tunes Sibelius nearly overwhelms us with. The final movement built up a head of steam that swept over us all like a tidal wave of sound, that central theme soaring in that Nordic/Ruski fashion (which some critics dismiss as “too obvious”) but which musicians and audiences cannot seem to get enough of. The final page brought a roar of sound from the orchestra followed by a roar of applause and an ovation from the audience.

It was as perfect a night of musicmaking as I’ve ever heard in this hall – magnificent in every regard. Bravo a tutti to Maestro Moody and the PSO!