Joyce DiDonato at Carnegie Hall

Thanks to this marvelous, sometimes frustrating technology, I was able to watch it live in real time on Medici TV, so while not quite the same as actually being there, it's the next best thing . . . and a very good thing, too.

Applying the theme "A Journey Through Venice," to the program, allowed the mezzo and her marvelous pianist David Zobel to examine a wide spectrum of music devoted to one of earth's most celebrated cities. Through the music of Vivaldi, Rossini, Hahn, Faure and
Michael Head, DiDonato revealed why she's one of today's most versatile and unique singers, approaching everything with a freshness and sense of wonderment that is infectious to the listener, drawing one in as though being gently pulled by a friend from a large party into a side room for one-on-one.

So fluidly did DiDonato move through the two gorgeous, elegant arias from Vivaldi's "Ercole su'l Termodonte," "Onde chiare che sussurrate" and "Amato ben," which opened the recital, revealing a precision and elegance smoothly seguing from the virtuosity of the first into the delicate intimacy of the second, and applying a hushed intensity to this music that was breathtaking.

Hot on the heels (after a bit of banter from the singer) came Fauré's delightful set Cinq mélodies 'de Venise, the first of which feels more like Poulenc or Debussy than one usually gets from this frequently introspective composer. With her quick vibrato and slight reedy quality, DiDonato sounds almost as though born to sing French music and hearing this entire set made me curious to hear what she might do with his Pénélope. Whether or not that happens, more Fauré, please, Joyce, it suits you like an elegant glove.

The first half of the recital closed, and the second half began with Rossini, a composer one frequently identifies with this singer, his outsized La regata veneziana contrasting nicely with Desdemona's Assisa al piè d’un salice ... Deh, calma. Again a single composer providing two sides of the same coin and an opportunity for this singer to color, bend and stretch - to play with the music - in a manner many singers seem incapable of, or uncomfortable in doing.

A bit more banter ensued as DiDonato described Michael Head's Three Songs of Venice, written for Dame Janet Baker, and still sounding mighty good from another singer in the here and now.



The crown (for me) of the recital was "Venezia" the "Venice" set of Reynaldo Hahn, long one of my favorite songwriters. They were, of course, glorious sounding, with DiDonato interrupting herself to describe how, if time allowed she'd enjoy being able to change into a costume for "Che peca!": "I would go into a white sleeveless t shirt that's about 20 years old . . . a couple stains and holes, because I would be that man who sits on his porch . . . over the canal, and I envision this song with the man whose had a lot of pasta in his life and he likes a bad cigar, and he's had it . . . and this is what he would sing about." DiDonato struck a swagger-ish pose and presented a sort of artificial huskiness and sprechstimme (built into the song) that was hilarious, and felt natural and it was clear who was having the most fun of the night.

After a warm ovation, and before presenting her two encores, Rossini's "Canzonetta spagnuola" DeCurtis great hit "Non ti scordar di me," both marvelously sung, DiDonato spoke from the heart:

"I know I'm a bit of a Pollyanna about this, but when you look at the world today and it can get a little discouraging at times . . .right? This is our teacher, right here . . . because here we are of different gender, different religion, different politics, different everything . . . and yet in this moment there is harmony and there is peace. This is our teacher, and our goal is to take this that we create here and go out. So that's why . . . and I hope I'm not lecturing you all, I just want to share with you how amazing it is that we get to do this."

Amen, sister.

Simon Keenlyside: Wigmore Hall Recital (CD)

I’ve been giving another listen to Simon Keenlyside’s wonderful Wigmore Hall recital with pianist Malcolm Martineau, given on 26 October 2008 and what a joyous celebration of song this recital is.

Opening with a set of Schubert that is not without a couple of flaws here and there, Keenlyside takes risks that seem uncommon today to recitalists today, seemingly shading texts and lines with something that approaches equal part musician and singing actor. There is a touch of huskiness when he approaches head voice that I‘m sure will drive some listeners running. For some this sort of thing simply will not do, but for those who love genuine interpretive singing those blemishes seem actually to enhance the text. Schubert’s “Verklärung“ (Transfiguration), which begins with a rather grand operatic recitative before segueing into its gentle lied the baritone alternates between almost painfully beautiful tone to hushed, slightly rasped sound . . . but with the text “let me dwindle away gently,” such an effect is (to these ears) not only welcome, but raises the song to something beyond the
beautiful noise that many lieder singers - and audiences - seem satisfied
with.

The following “Die Sterne” has a lilting, almost dance-like quality . . . and so it goes, throughout with Keenlyside making the most of every line of text, wedding it beautifully with the music and unafraid to change the tone from robust to delicate. His observations to appogiatura, turns is exemplary in each song. The Schubert set ends with that old chestnut (which seems rarely heard anymore) “Ständchen” - as lovely as I’ve heard in a very long time - and seemingly the audience as well as I can rarely recall a first set of a recital ending with cheers as well as applause.

Even better is the set of six Wolf lieder, though moments of the first “Der Knabe und das Immlein” have a couple of intonation and tonal issues which, as the singer portrays the song’s several characters sound as if they threaten to lose control. Immediately on its heels however follow absolutely gorgeous readings of “Gesang Weylas” and “An die Geliebte” that are positively swoon--inducing. The best of the Wolf, however is grandly theatrical “Lied vom Winde“ which ends with Keenlyside saying his goodbye as if he’s floating away himself. It is nothing short of brilliant musicmaking and word painting, which is what this sort of thing is all about anyway, ja?

The singer really excels at programming for each set seems to move from strength to strength and the Wolf is followed by eight gems by Fauré. His French sounds (to me anyway) near perfection, and the colors in his voice match the composer’s requirements. Again, here Keenlyside show a fearlessness with an ability to float in some head voice - usually to exquisite effect. In “En sourdine” - the richness of his voice blends to stunning effect with a natural leaning into the nasality of the language that . . . well, here comes that word again . . . “exquisite.” If he does not break your heart in “Spleen” . . . see a doctor, it may not be fixable.

I tend to love the Fauré the most, but really, Simon’s best singing comes in the Ravel that closes the recital. Here, the most beautiful part of his voice - the middle - is allowed to shine more than in any other portion of the recital. As elsewhere, Keenlyside’s attention to textures and word painting is captivating and “freed” (if that’s the right word) from the rhythmic structure of more standard poetry verse, his reaching for dramatic effects is more welcome than - even using straight tone and other vocal “effects” to maximize the wedding of word to music.

Simon gets a nice little laugh announcing his encore, Poulenc’s “Hotel” - but no laughs from the beautiful rendition he closes the recital with.

Throughout the entire program, Mr. Martineau proves to be an absolutely compelling partner to the singer, the two seemingly breathing every phrase and nuance in tandem. Even more remarkably, Martineau seems to sense what appear to be "on the spot" (though this is clearly the work of a well rehearsed team) sudden changes, as when the singer suddenly produces an instant - and ravishing diminuendo - the piano subsides immediately, giving a sense of spontaneity both rare and wonderful.

For lovers of classic style vocal recitals, this is a must have and I can’t imagine ANY fan of this wonderful singer being without this release. Get it. Seriously.

A Breathtaking Pénélope at Manhattan School of Music

For lovers of rare French opera, and fans of Gabriel Fauré last night's premiere of Pénélope at the Manhattan School of Music was a nuit divine!

Martin T. Lopez's elegant unit set proved to be a remarkable use of space and created a playing area for the large cast. A central portico (the top of which was ingeniously used for the surtitles) was flanked on either side by immense vertical cubes. The cube to stage right featured a single enormous frame staggered lanterns arranged all illuminating a beautiful calligraphied section of Homer's text on what appeared to be a large distressed scroll with Pénélope's lament surrounding the frame. Two hidden doors at the top would open to reveal the suitors spying on the heroine, as she un-wove Laerte's from her loom. Stage Left's cube was divided into three vertical cubes the front panel of each featuring an immense rose in three stages (one on each cube).

The scrims would illuminate to reveal characters in various scenes e.g., Pénélope's serving woman working their spinning wheels, Ulysse's entrance (in the top cube); the sheperds' choreographed miming of the arrows Ulysse shoots from his bow, and the final bloody tableau of the suitors' corpses in piled in the heap of Ulysse's revenge. There were entrances from either side of the portico, and mounted at its center (and illuminated beautifully during just the right moments) were Ulysse's immense shield and bow. The top of the portico was a raked stage upon which almost the entirety of the second act took place, the "sky" dominated by a beautiful astrological chart.

Miranda Hoffmann's period-themed costumes captured each character to perfection. Pénélope's first, an empire-style number in sky blue that flowed down into a mix of aquamarine and green - seemed exactly right. Her second, a deep royal blue gown with jacket and regal jewelry was stunning. The serving maids all in identical gray gowns and long braids added measurably to the unison feel of their roles. The Suitors, had a marvelously individual, yet collective feel, making them stand out each from the other, and from the Ithacan culture as well, each wearing a long, vividly patterned skirt with individual shirts.

Renowned conductor Laurent Pillot led an almost breathless performance from the pit, the student orchestra belying its name with thoroughly professional playing and polish. Fauré's music - rapturous here, sudden bursts of fortissimo there, with nuance and style. The orchestral interludes, postludes created a spell that seemed to overtake everyone in the noticeably well behaved audience.

The performance of the evening - and one that will be talked about for a while to come, was that of the title role sung by soprano Lori Guilbeau. Folks, this is a voice to watch out for - huge, gleaming sound, amazing control, vocal shading of the music and pointing up the text as if to the manor born (or in this instance "the manner borne").

It wasn't only the voice but her presence dominated everything. She's by no means the petite creature that modern opera culture seems to be demanding, but rather what I like to call, "an opera-singer sized singer." She is also rather beautiful of face and a wonderful actor, already a master of grand old-fashioned operatic gestures (the good kind) and knows how to strike and keep a pose. (Her third act entrance - from one of those cubes, the picture of stillness, evoked a DaVinci painting, a study of noble tragedy. It was breathtaking.

Guilbeau's performance captured every nuance of the complicated and tortured queen, there was brittleness and open hostility in her manner with the suitors in moment's like "Tous, je vous hais!" where she reminds everyone who is queen. Then, in the blink of an eye she could take your breath away as with with utterances like the glorious "Je suis seule . . . " revealing her pain and longing for the return of her beloved. The third act, she simply hurled out earsful of sound with Ah! Malheureux! Malheureux!" riding the orchestra in a manner that made me think she will eventually find her way to Senta and Sieglinde (but not too soon, please!). It was a thoroughly polished performance that garnered the sustained roars that greeted her curtain call. I think I'm in love.

The rest of the cast sounded marvelous, well-trained with (mostly) excellent French - in fact once "home" (I'm visiting) and thinking about it, the French was better than one typically hears from most professional opera companies. Honestly.

Naturally with such an immense cast there were standout performances and chief among those was baritone Joo Won Kang as Eurymache. This is yet another young singer whose name one should watch out for. A handsome man with a major voice of great beauty, style and elegance. Fauré's Eurymache is clearly the leader of the suitors and Mr. Kang's performance ably filled that role - and he appeared to be having a ball playing this delicious bad guy.

Cooper Nolan's Ulysse captured the "ugly old man in rags" brilliantly, hunched almost to the floor as he leaned on his walking stick. (That costume was splendid, complete with hideous mask, foot and leg makeup, enormous scars and a wig that recalled Jon Vickers as both Samson and Peter Grimes!) The voice isn't particularly large, but held his own and he paced himself brilliantly, allowing the "feeble old man" disguise to "gentle the voice" revealing plenty of sound held in reserve for the big sing at the end of the show - where he and Ms. Guilbeau rang out with Fauré’s rapturous music making my eyes fill with tears.

Nolan (and the orchestra) were able to accomplish this earlier as well during one of the most beautiful moments in the entirety of Fauré's oeuvre; Ulysse's brief arioso, “Epouse cherie!" Fauré fills this brief moment with pure magic, revealing the hero's initial hesitancy but then committing fully to his plan, the composer continuing the flow with an ethereal postlude in which he weave's the central theme of the opera through the entire orchestral fabric . . . this gently ascending three note pattern that rises until your heart explodes from tenderness. (Insert heavy sigh here).

Though Euryclee hasn't a lot of music she is one of the most essential elements to the tale, and Victoria Vargas made a meal of the old nurse her rich, plummy mezzo dipping beautifully into the lower registers and her physical attack on the suitors to protect her queen as one of the evening's most touching moments. Likewise her secret chumming up with the old beggar/Ulysse to plot their revenge on the suitors added the necessary element of tension that holds the entire story together.

Lawrence Edelson left not a nook or cranny uncovered in his direction, helping make these characters come to vivid life. Visually there were so many wonderful moments in this staging it would be impossible to recall them all here, but several were just too beautiful not to mention. The serving maids entrance, with their Greek masks and beautifully uniform choreographed gestures and the human "wall" they make to prevent the suitors from attacking the palace. Pénélope's despair as she sits weaving at her loom, the metallic silver threads and its frame weaving her into a sort of visual tapestry. The entire second act with the shepherds on the hill, the despondent Pénélope thinking of hurling herself off the cliff into the sea (a moment which also had me worried for the singer's safety as she bravely stepped onto the edge of the second story high, raked platform!), and the final image of the reunited king and queen on their thrones, with an enormous shower of rose petals being tossed from the shepherds on the second level. All of this - and so much more, were just beautiful to behold.

For so rarely performed an opera, this performance set a standard. In a perfect world, this run would be extended, the performance captured for DVD release, but, helas, such is not the world in which we live. There are only two more performances and anyone able to, really should go.