Archive for February 21st, 2013

Where does the Concertgebouw Stand?

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

by Sedgwick Clark

 

NOTE: BEGINNING THIS WEEK, I’LL BE POSTING MY BLOG ON THURSDAYS AT NOON RATHER THAN WEDNESDAYS.

 

Amsterdam’s Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra and its current music director, Mariss Jansons, stopped by Carnegie Hall last week (2/13 and 14) for a pair of concerts to celebrate the ensemble’s 125th anniversary. They were a great success, as always, with everyone on my aisle burbling over its glorious sound and virtuosity.

No doubt whatsoever, it is a great orchestra, and for many of my over-40 years of hearing it in concert it was my favorite European orchestra. But the dark, burnished sonority of yore, cultivated to such full-toned splendor during Bernard Haitink’s tenure (1963-1988), was eviscerated by Riccardo Chailly’s superficial musicianship (1988-2004). And the turnover of orchestral musicians that occurred internationally in the last two decades of the 20th century brought forth a new generation of players who pride clarity over rich, bass-oriented textures. The only orchestra I know that has managed to retain its early-1970s persona resides in Philadelphia, and it remains to be seen what effect its new music director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, will have.

So what effect has Jansons had on the RCO? While one can’t deny his expertise on the podium, I don’t find much personality in his conducting—of the Austro-German repertoire anyway. He was at his best in the first concert, in his accompaniment to Leonidas Kavakos’s kaleidoscopic brilliance in Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2. Still, it was little more than an expert rendering of the score. Listen to soloist Zoltán Székely and the Concertgebouw in the live world premiere recording under Willem Mengelberg in 1939 for those little nudges of temperament I missed with Jansons or the 1958 Stern/Bernstein/New York Philharmonic studio recording (in its judiciously remixed Prince Charles Edition reissue) for no-holds-barred emotional drama.

Recalling Jansons’ devastating Mahler Sixth Symphony a few years ago on LSO LIVE, I looked forward to the Mahler First, which followed intermission. But despite the orchestra’s powerful, pinpoint playing, the Wayfarer themes didn’t sing, the third movement’s Parodie sections were poker-faced, and in general the slow music was impatient and tempo changes were exaggerated. A disappointment.

Little need be said about the next evening’s Strauss Death and Transfiguration and Bruckner Seventh. Over the weekend I pulled out my recordings of Strauss’s own 1926 Staatskapelle Berlin recording, the 1942 Philadelphia and 1952 NBC Toscaninis, 1960 Monteux/San Francisco, and 1983 Haitink/Concertgebouw of the former, and the 1951 Furtwängler and 1974 Karajan, both with Berlin, of the latter. All were different, all sublime in their individual ways. Jansons sped up where Strauss marks Sehr breit (“Very broad”) for the transfiguration theme and sailed through the Wagner tuba threnody after the Bruckner’s second-movement climax. Inexplicable.

David Hamilton (1935-2013)

Another of my heroes is gone. David Hamilton, 78, died at home on February 20 after a long illness. He reviewed records and wrote occasional features for High Fidelity when I began building my record collection in college, and I relied on his insights into 20th-century music, especially that of Stravinsky. His initials at the end of a review meant “must read,” even if I had never heard of the composer.

David was a Princeton grad (A.B., 1956; M.F.A., music history, 1960), where he was the music and recording librarian, 1961-65. He was assistant music editor and then music editor at W.W. Norton, 1965-74, then became music critic of the Nation in 1968 and wrote for many publications during his lifetime. I had the pleasure of editing (if that’s the word, for his copy was immaculate) articles of his at Keynote and Musical America. His Metropolitan Opera Encyclopedia (1987) is one of my most frequently used reference books. For many years, he was producer of historical Met Opera broadcasts and wrote notes for the company’s program booklet.

One of the benefits of working in the classical division of Philips and Mercury Records in the early 1970s was that I got to know many writers who were formative in my musical taste. It’s easy to remember my first lunch with David: We were each going to hear Boulez conduct the Philharmonic that evening in what turned out to be one of the great Mahler Sixths I ever heard, and with a grin he pulled out the Mahler Critical Edition score from his briefcase.

We often saw each other at Boulez concerts. The conductor’s Rug Concerts were nearly always sold out, and long lines of the converted would form to get the best seats on the floor. I always arrived early and when the doors opened would storm up the escalator as the ushers shouted, “No running allowed.” (Shades of elementary school!) When David was there, I would save him room. But one night, an all-Schoenberg Rug Concert was only about half full. I remarked after a striking performance of Pierrot Lunaire that it was too bad it hadn’t sold out. “Well, look at it this way,” he replied. “Have you ever seen so many people at a Schoenberg concert?”

David succumbed to Alzheimer’s disease, one of those ironies that we who remain find so baffling in those of such extraordinary intellects. His long-time friend Sheila Porter was with him the afternoon before he died and told me that she and his nurse chose James Levine’s Met recording of Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro for him to hear.

Looking Forward

My week’s scheduled concerts (8:00 p.m. unless otherwise noted):

2/21 at 6:00. Metropolitan Opera. Wagner: Parsifal. Daniele Gatti (cond.). Jonas Kaufmann (Parsifal), Katarina Dalayman (Kundry), Peter Mattei (Amfortas), René Pape (Gurnemanz), Evgeny Nikitin (Kingsor), Rúni Brattaberg (Titurel).

2/22 at 11:00 a.m. Avery Fisher Hall. New York Philharmonic/Alan Gilbert; Jan Vogler, cello. Rouse: Phantasmata. Bloch: Schelomo. Brahms: Symphony No. 1.

2/22 Carnegie Hall. Philadelphia Orchestra/Yannick Nézet-Séguin; Jean-Yves Thibaudet, piano. Gabriela Lena Frank: Concertino Cusqueño. Ravel: Concerto in G. Stravinsky: The Rite of Spring.

2/23 Weill Hall at 1:00. Discovery Day: The Rite of Spring. Richard Taruskin, keynote speaker. Lynn Garafola, David Lang, Osvaldo Golijov, Jeremy Geffen (moderator).

2/24 Juilliard School. Peter J. Sharp Theater at 2-4:00. Leon Fleisher master class: Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 1. Performance at 5:00.

Bieito Hijacks Boris

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

Anatoli Kotcherga and Alexander Tsymbalyuk

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: February 21, 2013

MUNICH — As dramaturgy, Calixto Bieito’s new staging here of Mussorgsky’s seven‑scene 1869 Boris Godunov (heard and seen yesterday, Feb. 20) runs into trouble almost immediately.

Set in present‑day Russia — identifiable by the up‑to‑date, thug‑police gear and the wall map in Boris’s Terem (Scene V) — it seems to want to cast Vladimir Putin as the boyar turned czar (actual reign: 1598–1605). Indeed, Putin’s face is first, front, and center among placards displayed in Scene I, as the crowd is bullied into endorsement of a leadership change.

But that would entail the Russian president dropping dead on the stage of Munich’s nice theater, an outcome for which not even Bieito — born in Old Castile, Spain — would have the cojones, to say nothing of Bavarian State Opera management’s likely concerns.

So the thing gets diluted. Putin’s face is promptly surrounded by placards for sundry other politicians, to wit: Cameron, Hollande, Monti, and Rajoy, supplemented by the peacefully removed from office Bush, Blair, Berlusconi, and Sarkozy; the current German chancellor and U.S. president apparently do not merit inclusion, though someone resembling Leon Panetta does. And Boris emerges as a fill‑in‑the‑blank oligarch, schemer and poison victim. His death (Scene VII) occurs at an oligarch get‑together attended — in a feeble try at framing the concept — by present‑day, multinational finance ministers. Boyar, you see, equals oligarch, equals business leader; finance ministers are there to cater.

Still, Bieito shoots his interpretive load along the way with slices of supposed present‑day Russian life. People are shoved, choked and skull‑crushed by the police. Boris’s young daughter Xenia is a drunk. The Innkeeper (Scene IV) ruthlessly whips her own toddler while puffing a cigarette. The robbed Holy Fool is repeatedly stabbed by a little girl, and then shot in the head by her at close range under police cover.

Pimen the chronicler undoes history by ripping pages from a file. His student Grigory (a.k.a. False Dmitry I, czar in 1605–06) stabs a policeman, breaks the necks of the Nanny and Xenia, and suffocates Boris’s son Fyodor (historically czar in 1605). Boris’s own slow death, in context, doesn’t exactly ache in its poignancy.

For visual sustenance during the unbroken 135‑minute proceedings, we survey a cumbersome dark metallic unit shifting around the stage against an equally dark, smoky background. Technical staff here are proud of their mostly quiet hydraulics.

Last night’s performance (transmitted live on Mezzo TV) riveted attention through extraordinary singing. Alexander Tsymbalyuk’s stentorian bass voice in the title role brought eager expression to all lines of the anguished ruler. Secure from bottom to top, Tsymbalyuk sang with refined legato here, pointed declamation there. Now 36, this Ukrainian artist last year concluded a nine‑year affiliation with Staatsoper Hamburg; remember the not‑so‑easy name.

Veteran of the title role, and fellow Ukrainian, Anatoli Kotcherga (65) invested Bieito’s un‑chronicler with power, eloquence and welcome stature. Another sometime Boris, Vladimir Matorin (64) from Moscow, boomed with full‑voiced, undaunted lyricism as Varlaam, effective well beyond So It Was In the City of Kazan.

St Petersburg tenor Sergei Skorokhodov introduced a clarion, unstrained Grigory. Gerhard Siegel floated attractive tones in the oily duties of Basil Shuisky (future czar Basil IV, 1606–10), presenting the character as a credible advisor more than as a scorned stereotype. Company member Okka von der Damerau lent her vivid and plush mezzo to the hard‑put‑upon, abusive Innkeeper, and 23‑year company member Kevin Conners of East Rochester, NY, bellyached musically as the Holy Fool.

Advance hopes that Kent Nagano might bring some sweep, flair or insight to Mussorgsky’s graphic score — his last premiere as Bavarian State Opera Generalmusikdirektor — soon receded. His approach was plain, without feel for the Russian phrase. If he grasped the problems of balance caused by Mussorgsky’s intermittent misjudgment of orchestral weight, in this third performance of the run, he made no audible compensation for them. As usual he paced the music fittingly and coordinated well. Wind ensemble fell below par for the Bavarian State Orchestra; the chorus sang in unclear Russian, with greater musical discipline than usual. Disenchanted by Bieito’s whopping liberties with the colorful, pageant‑endowed story, but enthralled by the singing, the crowd applauded lightly.

Still image from video © Bayerische Staatsoper

Related posts:
Petrenko’s Sharper Boris
Manon, Let’s Go
Verdi’s Lady Netrebko
Thielemann’s Rosenkavalier
Petrenko’s Rosenkavalier

Where does the Concertgebouw Stand?

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

by Sedgwick Clark

NOTE: BEGINNING THIS WEEK, I’LL BE POSTING MY BLOG ON THURSDAYS AT NOON RATHER THAN WEDNESDAYS.

Amsterdam’s Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra and its current music director, Mariss Jansons, stopped by Carnegie Hall last week (2/13 and 14) for a pair of concerts to celebrate the ensemble’s 125th anniversary. They were a great success, as always, with everyone on my aisle burbling over its glorious sound and virtuosity.

No doubt whatsoever, it is a great orchestra, and for many of my over-40 years of hearing it in concert it was my favorite European orchestra. But the dark, burnished sonority of yore, cultivated to such full-toned splendor during Bernard Haitink’s tenure (1963-1988), was eviscerated by Riccardo Chailly’s superficial musicianship (1988-2004). And the turnover of orchestral musicians that occurred internationally in the last two decades of the 20th century brought forth a new generation of players who pride clarity over rich, bass-oriented textures. The only orchestra I know that has managed to retain its early-1970s persona resides in Philadelphia, and it remains to be seen what effect its new music director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, will have.

So what effect has Jansons had on the RCO? While one can’t deny his expertise on the podium, I don’t find much personality in his conducting—of the Austro-German repertoire anyway. He was at his best in the first concert, in his accompaniment to Leonidas Kavakos’s kaleidoscopic brilliance in Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2. Still, it was little more than an expert rendering of the score. Listen to soloist Zoltán Székely and the Concertgebouw in the live world premiere recording under Willem Mengelberg in 1939 for those little nudges of temperament I missed with Jansons or the 1958 Stern/Bernstein/New York Philharmonic studio recording (in its judiciously remixed Prince Charles Edition reissue) for no-holds-barred emotional drama.

Recalling Jansons’ devastating Mahler Sixth Symphony a few years ago on LSO LIVE, I looked forward to the Mahler First, which followed intermission. But despite the orchestra’s powerful, pinpoint playing, the Wayfarer themes didn’t sing, the third movement’s Parodie sections were poker-faced, and in general the slow music was impatient and tempo changes were exaggerated. A disappointment.

Little need be said about the next evening’s Strauss Death and Transfiguration and Bruckner Seventh. Over the weekend I pulled out my recordings of Strauss’s own 1926 Staatskapelle Berlin recording, the 1942 Philadelphia and 1952 NBC Toscaninis, 1960 Monteux/San Francisco, and 1983 Haitink/Concertgebouw of the former, and the 1951Furtwängler and 1974 Karajan, both with Berlin, of the latter. All were different, all sublime in their individual ways. Jansons sped up where Strauss marks Sehr breit (“Very broad”) for the transfiguration theme and sailed through the Wagner tuba threnody after the Bruckner’s second-movement climax. Inexplicable.

David Hamilton (1935-2013)

Another of my heroes is gone. David Hamilton, 78, died at home on February 19 after a long illness. He reviewed records and wrote occasional features for High Fidelity when I began building my record collection in college, and I relied on his insights into 20th-century music, especially that of Stravinsky. His initials at the end of a review meant “must read,” even if I had never heard of the composer.

David was a Princeton grad (A.B., 1956; M.F.A., music history, 1960), where he was the music and recording librarian, 1961-65. He was assistant music editor and then music editor at W.W. Norton, 1965-74, then became music critic of the Nation in 1968 and wrote for many publications during his lifetime. I had the pleasure of editing (if that’s the word, for his copy was immaculate) articles of his at Keynote and Musical America. His Metropolitan Opera Encyclopedia (1987) is one of my most frequently used reference books. For many years, he was producer of historical Met Opera broadcasts and wrote notes for the company’s program booklet.

One of the benefits of working in the classical division of Philips and Mercury Records in the early 1970s was that I got to know many writers who were formative in my musical taste. It’s easy to remember my first lunch with David: We were each going to hear Boulez conduct the Philharmonic that evening in what turned out to be one of the great Mahler Sixths I ever heard, and with a grin he pulled out the Mahler Critical Edition score from his briefcase.

We often saw each other at Boulez concerts. The conductor’s Rug Concerts were nearly always sold out, and long lines of the converted would form to get the best seats on the floor. I always arrived early and when the doors opened would storm up the escalator as the ushers shouted, “No running allowed.” (Shades of elementary school!) When David was there, I would save him room. But one night, an all-Schoenberg Rug Concert was only about half full. I remarked after a striking performance of Pierrot Lunaire that it was too bad it hadn’t sold out. “Well, look at it this way,” he replied. “Have you ever seen so many people at a Schoenberg concert?”

David succumbed to Alzheimer’s disease, one of those ironies that we who remain find so baffling in those of such extraordinary intellects. His long-time friend Sheila Porter was with him the afternoon before he died and told me that she and his nurse chose James Levine’s Met recording of Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro for him to hear.

An Enlightened Concert Experience

Thursday, February 21st, 2013

By: Edna Landau

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

About a month ago, I attended a panel discussion at Chamber Music America’s 35th annual conference in New York during which one of the panelists, pianist Simone Dinnerstein, spoke of her quest to make her concerts as personal, intimate and warm as possible. Reinforced by the atmosphere at a Leonard Cohen performance at the Barclays Center in Brooklyn (seating capacity of approximately 18,000), which made her feel as though she were in his living room, she has set out to experiment with special lighting to warm up the feel of her concerts. Where possible, presenters may be asked to use special gels that may complement a motif in her concert attire. Alternatively, she may ask for a lamp with a lamp shade near the piano, as well as a piece of carpeting under the piano. In some instances, Ms. Dinnerstein has prepared a mixed tape to be played in the hall from the time the doors open, that is related to the program she will perform and that is designed to help the audience put their cares behind them and to welcome them into the concert experience even before she plays a note. Such a compilation might include selections as diverse as songs sung by Joni Mitchell and the late countertenor, Alfred Deller. In a program called “Night”, based on her soon to be released album by that name with singer-songwriter Tift Merritt, the two came out and started performing on a dark stage. As the lights gradually came up, the audience was already engrossed in what they were hearing, spared the applause that traditionally accompanies the artists’ coming out on stage and that can be a rather harsh entry point into a captivating musical experience.

A darkened stage is not a unique or new phenomenon in the concert hall. CMA panelist Eric Edberg, artistic director of the Greencastle Sumer Music Festival, related how he presented Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time on a dark stage with only stand lights. Conductor Paul Haas, founder and visionary Artistic Director of Sympho (which was launched with a revelatory and highly acclaimed multi-media concert in 2006 called “Rewind”) will present a concert at the Church of the Ascension in New York this May with the title “Ascending Darkness”. The following description appears on Sympho’s website: “In this concert, Sympho will explore what happens to the orchestral concert experience when the lights go out, when the audience is invited to listen to the music without visual distractions, allowing the sense of hearing to be heightened. World premieres and pre-composed classics collide in varying degrees of light and darkness in the resonant space of Manhattan’s famed Church of the Ascension. Musicians are placed in unexpected configurations and locations, enveloping the audience in various musical textures. No programs to fumble with or tall concertgoers to peek around. Instead, this concert invites you to sit and focus on what you came to hear in the first place: glorious music.” Like Simone Dinnerstein, Mr. Haas is not exploring new forms of concert presentation because he thinks the music doesn’t stand convincingly on its own. Rather, he feels the concert experience for audience members can be significantly enhanced if they can immerse themselves in the music in as complete a way as possible.

A presenter who has come to many of the same conclusions is Laura Kaminsky, Artistic Director of New York’s Symphony Space. She spoke to me of the acoustical challenge of presenting chamber music and jazz in their smaller theatre, the Thalia, which was built as a screening house and has a low ceiling. The acoustics in the hall are much brighter when the screen is lowered and she thought to create visual backdrops for the music on stage by using lighting, gobos and gels to match the mood of the music being performed. Colors and images are chosen to illuminate and enhance the audience’s musical experience. During a recent contemporary music marathon, the lighting changed throughout the eight hour period, which they felt helped to give each piece its own special world and kept the audience alert and engaged.  In the annual Wall to Wall marathons which take place in the larger 800-seat theatre and which run for twelve continuous hours, she and her staff have created special tableaux that are projected to coordinate with what is happening on stage and that illustrate the changing theme of the Wall to Wall each year. They also feel strongly about setting the tone of a performance from the moment the audience enters the hall, both through lighting and music that create a suitable atmosphere and relate to the program that the audience is about to hear. Ms. Kaminsky elaborated on this to me, as follows: “When you go to a restaurant, you’re going for the culinary experience , but part of what makes it special is the lighting, the ambience, and perhaps the beautifully set table. You don’t go to simply fortify your body with calories. Similarly, a concert is a sensory, aesthetic and cultural experience which should be enjoyed to the fullest.”

While I still regularly attend concerts and feel uplifted by a stimulating program beautifully performed, without the benefit of special lighting or any other unusual sensory stimulation, I am excited at the thought that colleagues whom I hold in high regard are exploring new ways to make audience members feel more comfortable, engaged and connected to what they are hearing and seeing on stage. This can only be a positive development as we continue our efforts to introduce new, younger audiences to centuries of great musical masterpieces.

To ask a question, please write Ask Edna.

© Edna Landau 2013