Posts Tagged ‘Review’

Les Huguenots de Nuremberg

Saturday, July 5th, 2014

Martin Berner as the Comte de Nevers in Les Huguenots in Nuremberg

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: July 5, 2014

NUREMBERG — In Tobias Kratzer’s new staging here of Les Huguenots, the Catholic Comte de Nevers is an artist, ostensibly a portraitist but reduced through wild daydreams to paint-hurling abstract expressionism. His subjects include other characters in Meyerbeer’s grand opéra, one result being that we are confined for the five acts to his studio, a Paris loft. No Chenonceaux, no bathing scene, no Cher, no Seine. As imagined by Nevers, Notre Dame’s gargoyles stir to life and religious carnage ensues. When the curtain falls on Act V, we glimpse his latest work, a depiction of the 1572 Massacre de la Saint-Barthélemy: thrown red paint on a white base. Social standings inevitably blur in this remix of librettist Scribe’s plan, not least that of Marguerite de Valois, would-be architect of Protestant-Catholic entente but now also patrone and farcical subject for the painter.

Guido Johannes Rumstadt led a trimmed version of the 1835 score Wednesday (July 2) at the genial 1,400-seat Staatstheater Nürnberg. He stressed momentum over Gallic refinement but accompanied attentively and built solid climaxes. The Staatsphilharmonie Nürnberg cooperated, with enthusiasm offset by some lapses in ensemble. The Chor des Staatstheaters marshalled discipline for its varied, tuneful duties, even when the staging undermined the effort — for instance during Jeunes beautés, the choeur dansé des baigneuses, which made no sense delivered with the ladies plonked on Nevers’ loft floor. Three of the seven principal roles were cast with singers of promise. Mezzo-soprano Judita Nagyová, as Urbain, brought firm focused sound and phrased elegantly, but her part was shortened. Hrachuhí Bassénz, a lustrous soprano (Valentine), and Uwe Stickert, a clarion high tenor (the Huguenot Raoul de Nangis), conveyed romantic urgency. The production moves to Nuremberg sister city Nice in a future season.

Photo © Jutta Missbach

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Verdi’s Lady Netrebko

Saturday, June 28th, 2014

Simon Keenlyside and Anna Netrebko at Bavarian State Opera

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: June 28, 2014

MUNICH — Verdi’s Macbeth is back, for its eighth run in six years at Bavarian State Opera, this time to open the dressy Opernfestspiele. The production’s giant chandelier, plastic sheeting, silly tent and field of skulls are now globally familiar, even if they don’t exactly transport us to 11th-century Scotland. Ditto its unison cast whizz during the witches’ Act III Incantation, made possible by a reverse diaper process and plastic tubes. Obsession still trumps oppression (or patriotism or tyranny), as stage director Martin Kušej in 2008 saw the tale. Mute kid supers still enact the witches. Just don’t look for a heath, castle, cave or Dunsinane Hill.

The dramatic instincts and opulent tones of Anna Netrebko as Lady Macbeth ignited last evening’s performance (June 27). After a 3½-month break from staged opera, the soprano brought voice to burn to this role debut and had apparently been expertly tutored for it. Her sound, often ingolato, correlated little with her 2012 Giulietta or 2011 Adina here, but power and a new exploitation of her rich chest voice riveted the ear. Stage skills found her reveling in the excesses of the character without descending to caricature.

She read the letter at the start with Italianate declamation and fresh point. Vieni! T’affretta! and both verses of Or tutti, sorgete paraded the value of a plush timbre skillfully deployed. She sailed over the orchestra and ensemble in a thrilling Act I Finale — Schiudi, inferno, la bocca, ed inghiotti nel tuo grembo l’intero creato being precisely what Hell should do with this staging — and rode other climaxes with comparable apparent ease. Act II brought contrast. After a chilling La luce langue, she mustered a series of expressive, varied trills and strong coloratura for the banquet, Salva, o rè! … Si colmi il calice, flatly defying expectations. She conveyed tameness and defeat in the Sonnambulismo, which in Kušej’s concept involves no walking, and invested Verdi’s last phrase with pathetic charm, touching the D-flat and then plunging with rounded certainty to “ndiam,” albeit in something greater than the stipulated fil di voce.

Simon Keenlyside tried hard as Macbeth, a role he has already documented. He observed the musical values of the part and summoned as much heft and intensity, fury and volatility, as his lyric baritone would permit, preserving beauty of tone. He paired credibly, magnetically, with Netrebko and faced the Act II ghost and Act III apparitions with reasonable histrionic flair, dumb dramaturgy notwithstanding. But he never resembled a killer or hesitant dope. Wisely, he saved his best till last, finding dignity and power for Perfidi! All’anglo contro me v’unite! … Pietà, rispetto, amore. He was singing this next to and over the body of his queen when, awkwardly, the news of her death arrived.

If the misdemeanor of this Macbeth is having the cast pee on stage, its felony is forcing Verdi’s witches to sing from the wings. Pushed out of focus and balance, the Bavarian State Opera Chorus toiled and failed to give the opening Che faceste? dite su! its thrilling edge. And so it was for the Incantation, the Apparizioni and the chorus Ondine e silfidi, music dear to the composer’s scheme. When they weren’t being witches, though, the Sören Eckhoff-trained choristers achieved precise and penetrating results. Joseph Calleja rang tenorial rafters with Macduff’s Ah, la paterna mano, the dynamic details well executed. Ildar Abdrazakov’s firm but agile bass delivered Banco’s Come dal ciel precipita in ominous shades, before the character’s swift hoisting by the ankles and exsanguination, as Kušej has it. The Bavarian State Orchestra mustered warm lyrical playing that could turn dazzlingly martial where required, under Paolo Carignani’s idiomatic if measured command. His reading suggested exceptional thoroughness of preparation, as if a certain other maestro had provided background guidance.

Photo © Wilfried Hösl

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Time for Schwetzingen

Saturday, June 21st, 2014

Schlossgarten at Schwetzingen

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: June 21, 2014

SCHWETZINGEN — The right setting makes all the difference. At the palace here, a probing six-week spring music festival mirrors the scale and serenity of its context, courtesy each year of Stuttgart broadcaster SWR. Two days last month afforded a sampling of the extended activities: the melodic Arcadian opera Leucippo (1747), nudging forward the slow Hasse revival, and Strauss songs and Brahms trios, which as performed proved equally enlightening.

Schloss Schwetzingen is quite the venue. Its 14th-century embellished castle keep sits on an axis west six miles from bookish Heidelberg. Both towns are now part of metro Mannheim. The axis continues under the building’s arch onto a terrasse flanked by curved Rococo salon wings, festival HQ. Here a perfect large circle of formal greenery permits unique ¾-km intermission strolls, a particle collider for the listener. The line then drops to a vast lower plane of tended tree and bush plantings that hide a Baroque bathhouse, a fake mosque, a shrine to a lyre-playing Apollo and a trellised vision of the Edge of the World. In the contemplative distance, open fields reach the Rhine and the lucrative hilly Pfalz vineyards.

SWR commandeers the palace at an ideal time (April 25 thru June 7 this year). Spring tourism is discreet and decorous, the skies sunny by German norms, the gardens colorful. And May is spargel season: Prince-Elector Karl Theodor — when he wasn’t sponsoring orchestral innovation or Mannheim’s sigh, crescendo, rocket and roller — made Schwetzingen the nation’s spargel capital, and so the beloved but bland big white asparagus, plucked from mounds of earth once the tips show, is on every menu, typically offered under a thick hollandaise.

Festival programs are curated to source SWR broadcasts, balancing input from the company’s three carefully named* orchestras. The fare is chamber music and recitals, mainly, with limited opera and steady veins of new and rare. Ticket sales, something of an afterthought, are constrained by the modest sizes of the theater and two bright salons in those Rococo wings. Built in ten weeks in 1752 and nearly as ornate as Munich’s Cuvilliés Theater, the celebrated opera house holds just 450 people.

Christian Tetzlaff, in the Mozartsaal on May 24, operated as dynamic artistic hinge in Brahms’s three piano trios. He blended flawlessly on one side with the reserved, graceful cellist Tanja Tetzlaff. On the other, he seemed locked in quasi-combat with the grimacing, dramatic, not so lyrical but emphatically focused pianist Lars Vogt. The C-Minor work registered these qualities immediately in a heated, hypnotic reading. The adventurous C-Major followed, duly poignant in its Andante con moto. Given in revised form (1890), the Trio in B Major received equal treatment but managed to sound unrelated, a boisterous world unto itself.

Next door in the Jagdsaal the next morning (May 25), Anna Lucia Richter applied her bright, creamy lyric soprano to an overlong Strauss and Marx program, broadcast live. Composer Michael Gees accompanied. Never less than fluent in his playing, Gees proved virtuosic and inspired in the astutely chosen (1909–12) Marx set: Nocturne, Pierrot Dandy, Selige Nacht, Die Begegnung (from the Italian Songbook), Und Gestern hat er mir Rosen gebracht and Waldseligkeit.

Richter, 24, exuded youthful dignity in Strauss’s Drei Lieder der Ophelia, written in 1918, and managed to vitalize with color the four relatively plain Mädchenblumen (Opus 22), known for Epheu but given complete. She traced the familiar Opus 27 group and four songs from Opus 10 with technical finesse, not so much introspection, and in the Marx matched Gees’s passion and sense of grandeur. All through, she appeared immersed in the words. A Sophie for tomorrow.

The pleasures tailed off, alas, at the theater (evening of May 25), as the right setting gave way to the risible. Hasse’s favola pastorale to a Pasquini libretto finds a happy ending for Leucippo and Dafne — the outcome of divine will, not of unsanctioned cross-dressing as in Strauss’s account — but stage director Tatjana Gürbaca dealt gloom and madness by lodging all three acts in an empty and windowless oval boardroom. Monty Python costumes in ice cream colors degraded her Arcadian protagonists.

The arias of the propulsive score, premiered at Hubertusburg and first given here a decade later, are shaped with often robust accompaniment and well describe and separate the six characters. Choral contributions are minor. Leading this broadcast performance, Konrad Junghänel stressed the orchestra’s role and enforced bold, engaging dynamics; Concerto Köln delivered pristine ensemble peppered with much solo virtuosity. But vocal honors were qualified. Soprano Claudia Rohrbach’s stylish, buoyant Delio stood out. Mezzo-soprano Virpi Raisanen, singing from the pit as a substitute Dafne, performed wonders under the circumstances. The golden tones of countertenor Vasily Khoroshev in the title role offered satisfaction on one level; his Italian could not be deciphered. Baritone Holger Falk, as Nunte, and the musically elegant tenor Francisco Fernández Rueda, as Narete, projected their voices feebly into the small house, while soprano Netta Or presented a shrill Climene.

[*The Deutsche Radio Philharmonie Saarbrücken Kaiserslautern, Chefdirigent Karel Mark Chichon; the SWR Sinfonieorchester Baden-Baden und Freiburg, Chefdirigent François-Xavier Roth; and the better-known Radio-Sinfonieorchester Stuttgart des SWR, Chefdirigent Stéphane Denève.]

Photo © Thomas Schwerdt

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Rechenberg on Dupré’s Chemin

Thursday, May 22nd, 2014

Helene von Rechenberg

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: May 22, 2014

MUNICH — Composer first, virtuoso second. That, increasingly, is history’s view of Marcel Dupré, the long-lived, globe-trotting Frenchman whose suite Le Chemin de la Croix received a fluent and technically assured performance on Palm Sunday (April 13) from Munich organist Helene von Rechenberg.

The hour-long score follows the sequence of fourteen Stations standard in the Roman Church since the 17th century and widely depicted in the arts, from the sentencing of Jesus to his entombment. Their scriptural basis is partial. Dupré quickly establishes color and emotion in each piece. Encounters with Simon of Cyrene and Veronica summon dreaminess, unreality. The 3rd, 7th and 9th Stations, when Jesus falls, form a plodding dark thread that is never literal; Jésus tombe pour la troisième fois, a march, swirls turbulently.

It was a February 1932 Brussels Conservatory reading of Paul Claudel’s 1911 versets of the same title that led to Dupré’s work, his Opus 29, initially “improvisations” for that event. In finished form, contrarily, the absence of words probably heightens the composition’s eloquence, and Graham Steed has suggested Dupré’s inspiration was essentially visual. Liszt’s vocal and more concise Via Crucis of 1879 offers contrast, not always in Liszt’s favor.

As played by Rechenberg on the excellent Sandtner organ at St Joseph’s Church in Tutzing, south of here on Lake Starnberg, the opening and closing pieces had a roused, tense profile, buttressing the suite: Jésus est condamné à être crucifié an expression of outrage framed by slow, halting sections; and Le corps de Jésus est mis au tombeau, the longest piece at about seven minutes, a progression from noble simplicity through quiet percussive measures to a rising, bright, quiet close. Trained in Freiburg and with Michael Radulescu in Vienna, Rechenberg consistently found satisfying weight and shape for phrases, in music that is less dense than much of her repertory.

Dupré himself performed Le Chemin de la Croix yearly at Saint-Sulpice in Paris, where he was director of music until his death, at 85, in 1971. The work has since gained a following through recordings and is played during Lent on both sides of the Atlantic, although its length and the need for completeness preclude a routine place on recital programs. It is related in subject matter to Dupré’s four-movement Symphonie-Passion, notated in 1924 as Opus 23 but improvised three years earlier on Macy’s 28,000-pipe organ in Philadelphia. The virtuoso gave close to 300 recitals in the United States.

Photo © unknown

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Bolshoi Orchestra Stops By

Saturday, May 17th, 2014

Alan Buribayev

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: May 17, 2014

MUNICH — Something has happened to Moscow’s Bolshoi Orchestra. Perhaps steady funding? It has lost its old woolly sound, judging from an April 9 Bell’Arte tour stop here at the Gasteig, and found another: a gleaming, uniformly virtuosic persona that commands attention.

Vassily Sinaisky, overseer of this transformation, curiously lost his job as Bolshoi music director last December after clashing with front-office boss Vladimir Urin, and he was replaced at lightning speed by Tugan Sokhiev. Although less dramatic than the infamous acid attack, the sudden switch deserved more attention than it got, not least as an exemplar for slow search committees.

In any case, Sokhiev could not take on last month’s nine-city Middle Europe tour, and duties fell instead to the perky Alan Buribayev (pictured), principal conductor of Dublin’s RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra. Program backbone: Dvořák’s Cello Concerto and D-Major Sixth Symphony. Results: mixed.

The Kazakh maestro and the soloist, Mischa Maisky, conspicuous in a saggy mustard jacket, ran breathlessly through the concerto’s first movement but better paced the rest. The Adagio sailed along on Maisky’s full ripe tone and graceful phrasing. The Finale gelled well enough that the composer’s key modulations and guileful dynamic markings could work their wonders, capped by a potent last solo crescendo and an emphatic Allegro vivo.

Buribayev beat time energetically through the symphony but, released from the need to accompany, appeared short on ideas. The Furiant sections of the Scherzo came off best. Elsewhere, eloquent woodwind contributions mitigated a loud-or-louder, inflexible reading.

Photo © Simon van Boxtel

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Honeck Honors Strauss

Friday, April 11th, 2014

Manfred Honeck

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: April 11, 2014

MUNICH — Watching Manfred Honeck lead the Munich Philharmonic in Strauss last Sunday (April 6), a question came to mind. Why isn’t this the man replacing Lorin Maazel next year?

With refreshing conviction and broad arm gestures à la Carlos Kleiber, Honeck drew polished performances from the orchestra in three contrasted scores; the horns played dazzlingly. He waltzed with shrewd abandon through the 1944 Rosenkavalier-Suite, injecting drama and nailing Artur Rodziński’s (or is it really Strauss’s?) hearty coda. He elegantly accompanied in the Vier letzte Lieder (1948) as Anja Harteros painted the words and sent ravishing soprano tones around the acoustically deficient Gasteig hall. Perfect flute trills graced Im Abendrot. If her consonants did not always project, blame the architect. After the break, the Pittsburgh-based conductor richly indulged the melodies of Ein Heldenleben (1898), a work he played in Vienna under Kleiber 21 years ago, and he managed its counterpoint to gripping effect. Sreten Krstič’s sweet and poised but light-bodied solo violin fit in neatly. The MPhil will repeat the program tomorrow in New York, where Fabio Luisi conducts.

Photo © Felix Broede

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Stravinsky On Autopilot

Thursday, March 27th, 2014

Members of the Munich Philharmonic at work

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: March 27, 2014

MUNICH — In eight days in May 2004, as a kind of audition for the post of principal conductor, Valery Gergiev drove the London Symphony Orchestra brilliantly, if roughly, through recorded concerts of all of Prokofiev’s symphonies. Acclaim ensued, he got the job, and two years later the hasty, also electrifying and poignant, cycle rolled out on Philips CDs.

Now that Gergiev is headed here as Chefdirigent of the Munich Philharmonic, his attention is on Stravinsky. Only this time he already has the job, from Sept. 2015. And while Gergiev can be effective in this composer’s music too, he isn’t always, as Sedgwick Clark recently noted.

Munich’s Stravinsky cycle, if that is what it turns out to be, got off to a sad start Dec. 18. On the program, at the orchestra’s crooked Gasteig home, four French-name works: L’oiseau de feu (1910), Symphonies d’instruments à vent (1920), and the cantatas Le roi des étoiles (1912) and Les noces (1923).

Technically it was a good night. The orchestra and the pianists played well, the singing had discipline. Microphones presumably were turned on.

Artistically, though, nothing much happened, above all in the popular ballet score, which coasted vacantly and sounded headless, as if the orchestra members had crafted an interpretation by themselves.

The inspired Les noces should have been a treat, with four Mariinsky singers on hand (soprano Irina Vasilieva, mezzo-soprano Olga Savova, tenor Alexander Timchenko and bass Ilya Bannik), but Gergiev operated merely as traffic cop. Visceral bite in the score counted for little, despite robust contributions from Vasilieva and Savova and the energy of pianists Sergei Babayan, Dmitri Levkovich, Marina Radiushina and Andrius Zlabys, plus able percussionists. Adding to the woe, the cantata’s torrent of words blurred in the wide, fan-shaped auditorium.

Although perfectly intoned, the Symphonies suffered from blunting of essential rhythmic impulses. Only the brief King of the Stars (Звездоликий, actually Star Face) brought satisfaction, its alien harmonies and odd temporal properties carefully managed.

But who knows? Recordings may paint a more enthralling, or at any rate clearer, picture of this first regular-program collaboration of the Munich Philharmonic and the boss-to-be since the January 2013 announcement of his hire. And there is always hope for the cycle’s second installment.

The concert, not incidentally, was beset by unnerving circumstance. A testy news conference the previous afternoon (Dec. 17); a human rights protest in the form of a Putin-Gergiev pantomime on the Gasteig’s forecourt, watched by hundreds of arriving concertgoers; the unrealized menace of heckling during the music; daytime pressure from City of Munich politicians; and, not least, a week of frenzy for the maestro before he even landed here — all amount to another discussion.

Photo © Wild und Leise

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MKO Powers Up

Monday, March 24th, 2014

British conductor Clement Power, 33, with the Münchener Kammerorchester

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: March 24, 2014

MUNICH — Few conductors can jump into a Berg-Zemlinsky-Honegger program on three days’ notice and lead it fluently without change. Enter Clement Power (33), a gray-haired Londoner, for the Münchener Kammerorchester’s March 13 subscription concert here at the Prinz-Regenten-Theater. The newcomer showed an easy rapport with the players (6-5-4-4-2 strings) and technical mastery, resulting in persuasive readings of four challenging scores.

He fostered a warm sound, with precise articulation in Berg’s Drei Stücke aus der Lyrischen Suite (1928) and clear, glowing layers in Honegger’s D-Major String Symphony (1941). The MKO responded passionately in the outer two Berg “pieces” and sustained rhythmic exactness in the forwards-then-backwards Allegro misterioso. The Honegger resounded with such refinement and allure that it was hard to channel the composer’s morose wartime outlook. Ideas swirled vigorously, swooned more than mourned. Rupprecht Drees’s trumpet made a happily unobtrusive entry in the last movement, and the chorale tune soared to rapturous applause.

In between, Sandrine Piau applied her elegant, bright lyric soprano to Zemlinsky’s lush Maiblumen blühten überall (1898) and Berg’s Sieben frühe Lieder (1908), both heard in arrangements, the Berg being Reinbert de Leeuw’s pungent reduction. Although sensitive to the German texts, however, she proved overparted.

String for string, the MKO may be Munich’s most accomplished orchestra. An ensemble of two dozen musicians founded in 1950, it has scant competition yet plays at consistently high levels in enterprising programs (often resulting in enterprising CDs on ECM Records). Its seasons in the Hellenistic-Romantic opulence of the Prinz-Regenten-Theater (1901), an architectural cousin of Bayreuth’s Festspielhaus (1875), are rounded out by chamber performances in the Jugendstil Schauspielhaus (also 1901) on ritzy-retail Maximilianstraße and by much touring. The ensemble favors Classical, Modern and new scores, augmenting itself as need be. In marketing, the Münchener Kammerorchester’s acronym usually stands alone, in a neat insignia that reduces its K to a less-than sign: less than a symphony orchestra, perhaps.

Chief conductor Alexander Liebreich, originally listed for March 13, enjoys a reputation for versatility but has compromised his career by numerous visits since 2002 to North Korea. Indeed the MKO itself ventured to Pyongyang in 2012 under a do-good Goethe Institute program, explained by Liebreich to the BBC. Anyway the players must like venturing beyond safe Germany: a trip to drug cartel paradise Medellín comes on a tour next month. Call them adventurous.

Clement Power, meanwhile, remains barely known. While pretty-boy maestros in his age group win coveted awards and take up rural British opera company and New York chamber orchestra jobs, this prodigiously gifted artist works apparently without representation.

Photo © Münchener Kammerorchester

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What’s The New Normal In Contract Practice?

Thursday, March 20th, 2014

By Brian Taylor Goldstein, Esq.

Dear Law and Disorder:

What’s the new “normal” in reviewing and exchanging contracts? We are receiving an increasing number of contracts that had been issued as PDF files coming back as word files or even revised PDF files which means I have to read every single line of the agreement (along with an original version open beside it) in order to approve what is essentially a new version of the instrument we painstakingly crafted. Isn’t the presenter obligated to sign what we send or at least tell us they are amending our contract? We scratching our heads trying to understand what constitutes the “new normal” in contract practice.

I am the last person to proclaim what is and what is not “normal”. Normal is boring. Normal lacks imagination. Normal is not what the arts are all about. Nonetheless, when it comes to contract practice, many people in our industry continue to look for rigidity in a process that is intended to be quite fluid.

When you send a contract to another party, regardless of how brilliantly or painstakingly crafted the contract may be, you are sending them a “proposal” of the terms for their review. After all, unless you’re working within the structure of a pre-negotiated collective bargaining agreement, negotiating the terms of an engagement is not merely about agreeing on the date, time, and fee.   Everything about the engagement is negotiable as well: insurance, force majeure terms, technical requirements, warranties, licenses, recording rights, approvals, publicity restrictions, exclusivity, cancellation, taxes, visas, etc.

While, as a general rule, a contract should never be presented until both sides have at least agreed to all of the most important terms, there are bound to be additional terms and requirements that were not discussed—and even if they were discussed, chances are the wording or phraseology in the contract may or may not comport with a party’s understanding of what was agreed upon. The contract is the way to present and memorialize all of the additional terms that are important to the engagement, but may not have been clearly discussed at the outset. Many people call all of these additional term “legalese” or “boilerplate” terms, but, remember, nothing is standard…everything is negotiable. Even if you find yourself in the enviable position of being able to say “take it or leave it”, no one is ever obligated to agree to anything. As a result, unless you have somehow managed to discuss and agree upon each and every term ahead of time, the presentation of a contract is often how the negotiation continues, not ends.

Both professional courtesy and common sense would suggest that, before anyone starts making contractual amendments, the party proposing or requesting such changes should bring them to the other party’s attention either by highlighting them or discussing them ahead of time. While marking up a contract with handwritten comments has long been the practice, technology makes it relatively easy to take a PDF, format it into an editable word document, and make changes. However, most word processing programs also allow you to “compare” two documents. So, rather than having to painstakingly read every single line of an agreement, you can just as easily ask your word processing program to compare the old and new versions and it will automatically highlight all of the changes for you.

Personally, because my handwriting often looks like a headless chicken ran through a puddle of ink, I love being able to make changes and edits directly to the text of a contract. However, I then use my word processing program to compare the old version with my version, rename the document, and send it to the other party with all of my proposed changes clearly marked. I also like to add a watermark that says “draft” on each page. Its only when all the terms have been agreed upon by all the parties that is time to remove the watermark, PDF the document, and get everyone to sign it.

________________________________________________________________

For additional information and resources on this and other GG_logo_for-facebooklegal and business issues for the performing arts, visit ggartslaw.com

To ask your own question, write to lawanddisorder@musicalamerica.org.

All questions on any topic related to legal and business issues will be welcome. However, please post only general questions or hypotheticals. GG Arts Law reserves the right to alter, edit or, amend questions to focus on specific issues or to avoid names, circumstances, or any information that could be used to identify or embarrass a specific individual or organization. All questions will be posted anonymously.

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THE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER:

THIS IS NOT LEGAL ADVICE!

The purpose of this blog is to provide general advice and guidance, not legal advice. Please consult with an attorney familiar with your specific circumstances, facts, challenges, medications, psychiatric disorders, past-lives, karmic debt, and anything else that may impact your situation before drawing any conclusions, deciding upon a course of action, sending a nasty email, filing a lawsuit, or doing anything rash!

 

Petrenko’s Sharper Boris

Wednesday, March 19th, 2014

Boris Godunov at Bavarian State Opera

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: March 19, 2014

MUNICH — Bavarian State Opera’s flag-waving, Putin-skewering production of Boris Godunov had extra resonance in a revival on Sunday afternoon (March 16) as Crimeans engaged in their foregone conclusion of a referendum. Musically, too, all emerged tougher and more urgent than at last year’s premiere.

Kirill Petrenko sharpened the orchestral colors and summoned thrilling, even frightening, contributions from the chorus (trained by Sören Eckhoff), a welcome shift from the norm here. Mussorgsky’s opera found its climax under this conductor in Scene VI, before what should be St Basil’s Cathedral, the Holy Fool (Kevin Conners) intoning sweetly around the people’s acerbic cry for bread: Хлеба, хлеба! Дай голодным хлеба, хлеба!

Anatoli Kotcherga re-graduated from Pimen last February to a title role he owned twenty years ago, his voice undiminished but for some missing support in soft passages, while Ain Anger brought virile ardor to the chronicler. Vladimir Matorin railed and whimpered definitively (again) as a drunken Varlaam. Dmytro Popov introduced a sonorous Grigory, and Gerhard Siegel and Markus Eiche repeated their effective Shuisky and Shchelkalov.

Although lamely led by Kent Nagano, BelAir Classiques’ just-released DVD from the 2013 run preserves Alexander Tsymbalyuk’s magnetic, gloriously sung Boris as well as Matorin’s perfect Varlaam. Stage director Calixto Bieito uses the 1869 score, so seven scenes and no Marina or Rangoni.

Photo © Wilfried Hösl

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