Posts Tagged ‘Munich’

Busy Week

Tuesday, April 1st, 2014

Valery Gergiev

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: April 1, 2014

MUNICH — In every book on time management, there is a chapter about giving your work to someone else. Delegation, they say, is a virtue: an assistant exercises new authority and the delegator accomplishes other tasks, perhaps in other places. Maybe in another country. Or two.

Take Valery Gergiev, incoming Chefdirigent of the Munich Philharmonic. He delegates like a pro, arming répétiteurs and conducting assistants — many of them from St Petersburg’s Mariinsky Theater — with preparatory guidelines to deliver “Gergiev” interpretations on a minimum of Gergiev time. This way, the Russian’s branded, in-person artistry reaches more audiences in more cities. Call it the productization of conducting.

Last December, leading up to and including an MPhil program here, Gergiev conducted a choral concert, three operas, and four Stravinsky works, with three different orchestras in three countries, all in one week.

It was quite a feat. It was also, inevitably, a week of headaches, as the controlling artist jumped between scores on a near-daily basis. Featured: a postponement, a cancellation, anxious last-minute rehearsing, an opera company’s embarrassment, and, in Munich at least, shallow musical results.

The conductor’s devotion to the weightiest project of the week, in Warsaw, offers a clue about how much of what audiences hear in a “Gergiev” performance reflects his work.

Teatr Wielki had hired the Moscow-born conductor for a new production of a Tchaikovsky-Bartók double bill premiering on Dec. 13. Directed by Mariusz Treliński, the film noir versions of Iolanta and A kékszakállú herceg vára were a joint venture with the Metropolitan Opera, where they arrive next January under Guess Who’s baton.

The assignment came with hurdles, given that the opera company’s orchestra was little accustomed to Gergiev’s ways, the principal singers were mostly new to their roles, the compositional styles of the two pieces were unrelated, and the bill involved the Russian and Hungarian languages in performance by mostly Polish musicians.

All this considered, not delegating might have seemed the better part of valor. Indeed, if hearsay is accurate, the week was originally planned at a slightly less frenetic level of activity: just the Warsaw double bill and (on Dec. 18) the Stravinsky pieces in Munich.

The parties understood that of the Warsaw rehearsals Gergiev would lead only the final dress, on Dec. 11. Beyond the premiere, the hearsay has it that he was also to conduct the second performance, on Dec. 15, before heading to Munich. For the remaining dates of the brief run, Dec. 17 and 19, the Poles had engaged a second maestro, young Bassem Akiki.

The hearsay is credible because the non-updated website of Akiki, as recently as today (April 1, 2014), lists the two dates alone, and, when asked about the original slate for Dec. 15, Teatr Wielki did not deny the suggestion that the Russian conductor was at first scheduled.

But Gergiev gave Warsaw much less of himself even than this modest arrangement (Dec. 11, 13 and 15), and in Munich he appeared tired, possibly weakening the Dec. 18 concert. He conducted Teatr Wielki’s Dec. 13 premiere, and he flew to Munich on Dec. 16 to prepare the Stravinsky, only not from Warsaw.

“Unexpected circumstances did not allow maestro Gergiev to lead” the final dress rehearsal on Dec. 11, stated Teatr Wielki in an email response to questions (confirming a separate part of the hearsay), and so it was postponed to Dec. 12, when Gergiev was available. Besides distress for the cast, this change, according to the hearsay at least, caused the cancellation of an unrelated concert on Dec. 12.

The cast affected was: Tatiana Monogarova as Iolanta, Sergei Skorokhodov as Vodyemon, Mikolaj Zalasiński as Robyert, Alexei Tanovitski as Ryenye, Nadja Michael as Judit, and Gidon Saks as Kékszakállú.

“It is absolutely not customary for Teatr Wielki to schedule dress rehearsals one day before a premiere,” wrote the company.

Nor did Gergiev conduct the second performance of Treliński’s double bill. That fell to Akiki, even as company managers were trumpeting the participation of the celebrated conductor.

Instead he bolted, apparently with permission, for St Petersburg and rapid-switch programs at his own Mariinsky Theater: on Dec. 14 the Verdi Requiem and on Dec. 15 La traviata, both necessarily rehearsed by other hands. It was from the Russian city that he flew here.

Warsaw’s astoundingly patient company provided context for Gergiev’s arrangement, pointing out that “the process of rehearsing” (before the final dress) was the responsibility of a Gergiev assistant who “was in constant contact with” the boss. And, in a sign that any change of plan had been agreed: “Maestro Gergiev fulfilled his duties for Teatr Wielki.”

Meanwhile in Munich, normally communicative spokespeople grew taciturn, conceivably out of embarrassment about what they sensed was artistic dissemblance. Still unanswered by the publicly run MPhil are these easy questions:

— How many hours of rehearsal took place for the Dec. 18 Stravinsky program? How many were with Gergiev?

— What does the MPhil normally expect of a guest conductor, in number of days with the musicians and number of rehearsals?

Then again, the Munich Philharmonic has a long stake in this conductor (until 2020) and a bigger problem. He has become hot-to-handle due to his support for Vladimir Putin and his seeming confusion of homosexuality with pedophilia. On Dec. 17, amid Stravinsky rehearsals, he was grappling with testy questions at a news conference about these matters.

And the Dec. 18 Stravinsky concert? It brought fine musicianship with more than a hint of interpretive emptiness. Being a guest here, Gergiev can get away with such perceptions of disengagement, but he must steel himself for heightened subscriber scrutiny once he takes over.

Photo © Alexander Shapunov

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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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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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Petrenko’s Rosenkavalier

Friday, March 7th, 2014

Otto Schenk’s 1972 staging of Der Rosenkavalier for Bavarian State Opera

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: March 7, 2014

MUNICH — Kirill Petrenko unobtrusively passed the litmus test of Der Rosenkavalier here this week, shaping the score on his own terms (March 5) amid the hoopla of his Bavarian State Opera company’s 2014–15 season announcement.

Energetic, vivid, not so flexible, often perilously fast or loud, but dynamically controlled, it was Strauss in the vein of Fritz Reiner more than departed local deity Carlos Kleiber (or for that matter Herbert von Karajan or Christian Thielemann). The orchestra scrambled at the start, and moments of repose through the evening were few.

Onstage the Generalmusikdirektor from Omsk, 42, had support in the experienced, affecting Feldmarschallin of Soile Isokoski and the commanding, comic Ochs of Peter Rose. But Mojca Erdmann worked hard for volume as a stiff, vaguely shrewish Sophie, and Alice Coote’s mezzo-soprano sounded stronger on top than in the middle, where the Knight’s music lives.

Otto Schenk’s faithful 42-year-old production — it entered the world 69 days after Petrenko and is now under threat of replacement — moves traffic with consummate expertise in Act I and still guarantees applause for the opulence of its Act II.

Photo © Wilfried Hösl

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BR Campaign Runs Out of Gas

Monday, February 10th, 2014

Poster for Herbert Blomstedt’s February 2014 concert with the BRSO

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: February 10, 2014

MUNICH — Creative exhaustion appears to have arrived for a whimsical, multi-year promotional campaign here. Its subject: the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra. Its budget and goals: inscrutable. The thing would never have seen the light of day in the U.S., if only for legal reasons, and its existence is one of several signs of a vain administration within parent entity Bavarian Broadcasting, or Bayerischer Rundfunk, known as BR.

Centered on posters, or Plakate, the distinctive campaign eschews images and color and relies for its life on typography, specifically the manipulation of one clunky serif-and-sans-serif font, used until recently with flair. Typically, names or numbers related to a concert program are toyed with. Riccardo Muti comes to conduct, and so we see a giant MU. At some distance, not where spelling dictates, we land on the TI. Or RAT tops a Ligeti-Schumann-Haydn-Sibelius poster, its TLE completing the conductor’s name lower down. III, heavy like prison bars, blares out for a Bruckner Third Symphony.

The layouts show up on street posters, the Internet, handouts, even on the BRSO’s scholarly and free concert program books. They are the brainchildren of Bureau Mirko Borsche, whose trending design clients include Zeit Magazin, Harper’s Bazaar and the Bavarian State Opera.

But the design firm’s ideas have become less flattering of late. A gas mask promotes Herbert Blomstedt’s all-Brahms program this week (Feb. 13 and 14). In use for months already, the image results from a zoomed-in, weighty letter B, rotated right. The composer’s name forms a facial pout that traces the B’s dimple, with the conductor’s name straight, above the mask’s eyes. No slur is meant, one must assume. Other inverted or morbid layouts, including distorted initials, have dampened the aging campaign’s fun as options for novelty have narrowed.

Is there oversight? Only of the lightest kind, apparently. Beyond the posters, questions lurk about misleading buttons and missing contact information on the BRSO website, extravagant BRSO sales literature, and a peculiar organizational structure.

Orchestra administration is buried deep inside BR, a Munich-based, license-funded broadcaster with a budget above $1 billion and more on its plate than classical music. Just how deep is reflected on BR’s giant website, whose home page offers no direct link to the orchestra. Site visitors must learn that the acclaimed BRSO is part of BR Klassik, and then a link can be found. Once on the orchestra’s home* page, material is clearly presented. But not all of it. A click on “Presse” at the top, for instance, loops you back to BR and no fewer than sixteen press officers, one of whom, Detlef Klusak, has “Musik” after his name. In a brief call last week, however, Klusak confirmed he has nothing to do with the BRSO.

Finding the orchestra’s managers from its home* page is a trip in itself. You first click on “Orchester,” then on “Die komplette Besetzung” (the whole cast) under an illustration showing only musicians. You scroll down to the lower right corner of the next page, click on “Management,” select and copy the name of the person you want — there being no email addresses or phone numbers on the secluded page — and Google him or her!

Nikolaus Pont is in charge. New, with less than a year on the job, he did not initiate the promotional campaign or plan the website, and it isn’t clear yet whether he is more than a caretaker. (Fundraising, to be sure, is not front-and-center for him as it would be for an American counterpart.) Still, he must have reviewed the BRSO’s 2013–14 season brochure.

Or rather book. Weighing in at 1 lb. 6 oz. (more than half a kilogram), its 180 pages lie between thick, gloss-coated card and a cloth, die-embossed orange spine. Inside are concert details and color photographs, including four hopelessly sullen shots of Chefdirigent Mariss Jansons. Freely distributed, the Bureau Mirko Borsche-developed book carries no paid advertising. Broadcast-license-payers can only imagine its cost and the fees earned for design and printing.

An area optimistically labeled “Kommunikation” is headed by Peter Meisel, while another group has its own person under “Marketing.” Meisel works directly with the design firm (a Facebook favorite) but his diverse duties include photography, video liaison and special events. He is, moreover, tasked with keeping the world’s press (including this blog) informed of, and involved in, BRSO activities. A recent round-robin list showed 78 email contacts for the orchestra’s media outreach: 14 within BR, 9 at the Süddeutsche Zeitung (Bavaria’s answer to The New York Times), 16 at other Bavarian media outlets, 16 German outlets, 2 foreign (including Musical America), 6 German freelance music journalists, 2 non-media and 13 private.

Is it time for fresh approaches at the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra? By U.S. standards, certainly, on several fronts, starting with more management accessibility and a promotional campaign that respects visiting artists. As for this week’s concerts, Brahms will pout or smile depending on Blomstedt and the musicians, not on any poster design. The serene and sage maestro, still effective in his eighties, will no doubt laugh his gas mask right off, but of course that would suggest an altered formation for B-L-O-M-S-T-E-D-T.

[*Domain and site changes in April 2015 removed the awkwardness described here.]

Screenshot © Bayerischer Rundfunk

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Arcanto: One Piece at a Time

Friday, January 31st, 2014

Arcanto Quartet

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: January 31, 2014

MUNICH — The 11-year-old Arcanto Quartet, heard here last Friday (Jan. 24), is everything a chamber group shouldn’t be for promotional purposes. There are no family ties. Their instruments don’t match. They share no doctrine about period practice. They don’t grind out whole cycles of anyone’s music. Not surprisingly their U.S. debuts in 2010 passed with only modest fanfare: the Washington Post reviewer found himself split yet intrigued while The New York Times gave no coverage at all. Happily the Arcanto’s record label, Arles-based Harmonia Mundi, favors substance over flack and has documented their work in Mozart, Schubert and Bartók. The latter disc took a Preis der deutschen Schallplattenkritik.

Anchored by Jean-Guihen Queyras’s nimble cello and the resonant viola of Tabea Zimmermann, the group produces a centered, refined, light sound. Three centuries happen to separate the instruments used by these two members: Queyras, longtime soloist at IRCAM in Paris, plays a 1696 Cappa. But this detail seems incidental. Antje Weithaas, artistic leader of the Camerata Bern, and Daniel Sepec, concertmaster for the Deutsche Kammer-Philharmonie Bremen, are the sweet-toned violinists. Twenty-five months ago, here at the Prince Regent Theater, the Arcanto achieved minor miracles in Ravel’s Quartet in F Major before partnering Jörg Widmann for an ardent, haunting traversal of the Brahms Clarinet Quintet. The finicky Bavarian crowd roared its approval.

Last Friday’s visit, with the final quartets (1826) of Beethoven and Schubert, took place in the cool vaulted milieu of the Court Church of All Saints, diligently filled by presenter Bell’Arte. Versatile, nuanced playing proved that each work had been considered on its own terms: the F-Major Beethoven (Opus 135) characterized by nonchalance, the grander G-Major Schubert (D887) by an emphasis on fractionalized ideas that shadow late initiatives of the elder composer.

Beethoven’s Lento assai, cantante e tranquillo ruminated in a contented, consoling way. Queyras launched the lyrical second subject of the Muss es sein? movement with spry point, matched by Zimmermann. As Weithaas danced gleefully over the music’s last measures, after the shared pizzicato, the ensemble built cheerful true resolution not only of the immediate material but of the whole score. The Schubert received an intriguing performance. Ghoulish drama laced its Andante; delicate understated voices emerged lucidly in the Trio. In the passionate sections of the last movement, Allegro assai, the players found power in especially intense collaboration. The same composer’s Quartettsatz of 1820 (D703) served as recital opener, guided with spontaneity and considerable elegance by Weithaas.

Photo © Marco Borggreve

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On Wenlock Edge with MPhil

Thursday, January 9th, 2014

Wenlock Edge in Shropshire, England

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: January 9, 2014

MUNICH — Sullen, virile, often disembodied voices speak bluntly in Vaughan Williams’s On Wenlock Edge (1909). They are lost and living British Empire soldiers. Their plights, in six Housman texts, shape the 22-minute song cycle and its mildly chromatic “atmospheric effects,” resulting in music of stimulating directness — and French touches: counsel from Ravel pushed VW past expressive block in setting the words and precedent of Fauré helped determine the choice of tenor and piano quintet scoring.

This inimitable work is, inevitably, awkward to program, but musicians of the Munich Philharmonic found a way Dec. 15 on one of their nine intrepid Kammerkonzerte this season in the red and gold finery of the Künstlerhaus here on Lenbachplatz, drafting pianist Paul Rivinius and tenor Mark Padmore (who recorded On Wenlock Edge in 2007 and again this year). Songs by Britten and Ravel and the French composer’s F-Major String Quartet (1903) offered context.

The long Shropshire cliff of Vaughan Williams’s title is swept with a storm in the first song, as the speaker imagines himself in the steps of a Roman warrior. Padmore (52) hurled his lyric tenor into the maelstrom of sound here, buffeted but not trounced by the accompaniment. For Is My Team Ploughing? he deployed sweet head tones and dark shadings to sketch two soldier friends, one of them dead, conversing about shared work and a shared girl. The seven-stanza fifth song, Bredon Hill, provides backbone for the cycle, lamenting a fiancée’s death against the illusory background of Worcestershire church bells. Padmore traced its lines with somber resignation.

Julian Shevlin, Simon Fordham, Julia Rebekka Adler and Sissy Schmidhuber mustered tight ensemble in the Ravel quartet. Like dedicated chamber musicians, they had evidently established a mutual view of the score and were able to realize its tricky harmonies and shifting tone colors while throwing measured amounts of light on its textures. The wandering and somewhat Debussian third movement, Très lent, had more shape than is usual, without loss of refinement, and the concluding Vif et agité came across as marked. (One of the orchestra’s three concertmasters, Shevlin gave an eloquent account of Walton’s Violin Concerto nineteen months ago when Ivor Bolton conducted.)

Each half of the concert opened with a song cycle: Britten’s ample Winter Words (1953) and Ravel’s Cinq mélodies populaires grecques (1906). Though not quite warmed up for the Britten, Padmore made wily use of top notes and his gift for floating a phrase, lighting the words with imagination. His timbre in this music turned coarse when pressured, however, and he applied pressure often. The mélodies found him just as effective in French. Rivinius played with lively confidence, an equal partner.

This annual Sunday matinée concert series began in 2007 during Christian Thielemann’s tenure as Generalmusikdirektor. Initially held at the Jewish Museum, the events were relocated for better acoustics four seasons ago. The musicians themselves choose the programs, eyeing adventure: Rezsö Kókai’s Quartettino and Franz Krommer’s B-flat Bassoon Quartet, for instance, feature at a concert next month. Silvia Hauer and Anja Harteros, at other Munich Philharmonic Kammerkonzerte this season, will sing music for voice and ensemble: Hindemith’s Unheimliche Aufforderung, Fauré’s cycle La bonne chanson and Chausson’s Chanson perpétuelle — the last two scored, like On Wenlock Edge, for piano quintet accompaniment.

Photo © Paul Hodgkinson

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Kušej Saps Verdi’s Forza

Friday, December 27th, 2013

La forza del destino at Bavarian State Opera in December 2013

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: December 27, 2013

MUNICH — Martin Kušej’s new staging of La forza del destino for Bavarian State Opera opened Dec. 22 and is due for streaming tomorrow. Well cast, it alas trivializes the feud and the questions of honor and destiny that excited Verdi and his librettist Piave, despite being the busy company’s second try in eight years at this jumpy work.

At the second performance (Dec. 25), Anja Harteros soared as Leonora, her voice radiant and expressive. Nadia Krasteva’s Preziosilla sounded firmer than four years ago in Vienna, where she operated as a cowgirl. Jonas Kaufmann simulated tenorial heroics as Alvaro, but leaden tempos in Act III audibly strained him. Ludovic Tézier introduced a solid, resonant Carlo, Vitalij Kowaljow a menacing Guardiano (and Calatrava). Renato Girolami savored brief humor as a foam-container-meal-doling Melitone.

Though reportedly booed on opening night, conductor Asher Fisch ably commanded the structure and balances (as he had done for Don Carlo here in January 2012). His clinical discipline recalls the Verdi of Karajan without the orchestral megalomania, but also without Karajan’s flair in cantabile lines. Chorus and orchestra sounded splendid.

Kušej does not sustain the pace of Piave’s conception or inform its twists of fate. Instead he weakens the opera with banal settings and a political agenda all his own. Much of the time, we are on the premises of what appears to be a poor (American) evangelical church; Leonora gets a head-to-toe dunking in baptismal water. Visual references to Guantánamo and an Act III detour to Abu Ghraib, rather than propelling a feud, suggest anti-Americanism.

The production follows Verdi’s 1869 Milan score, modified in Act III according to a Franz Werfel scheme used for the 1926 Munich premiere of La forza del destino (under a 31-year-old Karl Böhm).

Photo © Wilfried Hösl

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Volodos the German Romantic

Sunday, December 22nd, 2013

Arcadi Volodos

By ANDREW POWELL
Published: December 22, 2013

MUNICH — Somewhere between the patent introspection of his new Mompou CD* and the tags of his early Stateside career — “big bravura pianist,” “new Horowitz” — lies an accurate description of Arcadi Volodos. It may simply be this: German Romantic, as in Schumann and Brahms, with impressionist flair.

That was the take, anyway, from a commanding, technically flawless Bell’Arte recital Dec. 12 here at the Prinz-Regenten-Theater, and it is buoyed by the disc. The 41-year-old pianist from St Petersburg stands distant from the trajectory of his rise: 1998 Carnegie Hall debut, Berlin readings of Rachmaninoff and Tchaikovsky concertos (1999 and 2002). He still plays with strength and vision, but what distinguishes him now is a command of form and the willingness to disturb it in expressive ways.

Stardom, meanwhile, has improbably blurred thanks to the presence of another St Petersburg pianist with what trademark authorities might term a confusingly similar name, Alexei Volodin, 36. (No also-ran, the latter gave a recital himself Dec. 15 at the Mariinsky.) Even so, allegiance to Volodos has held firm, particularly here in Germany, and to its credit his record label Sony Classical has stayed with him.

Schubert’s 1815 C-Major Sonata opened the recital, stitched up with its Allegretto (D279/D346). It seemed a weak choice until Volodos testily hammered and carved his way through, knowing exactly what he wanted from the music. We heard the sound of Beethoven.

The pianist stressed formal commonalities in the standalone pieces of Brahms’s Opus 118 (1893) and allowed contrasts to make their point without emphasis. Full, deep tone colors throughout, and natural lyricism in the framing sections of the A-Major Intermezzo and in the Romance, lent due character. In the final measures of the E-flat-Minor Intermezzo, as poetic cap, Volodos mustered a monumental stillness. (His reported recent success in Brahms’s Second Piano Concerto, with longtime collaborator Riccardo Chailly, is consistent.)

After the break and a fluent Schumann Kinderszenen, Volodos boldly energized the same composer’s C-Major Fantasie (both 1838), its three movements speaking with phenomenal power and passionate unity. For the Finale (Langsam getragen, durchweg leise zu halten), he coaxed a mood of poignant reflection unmatched even by Pollini in the famous 1973 recording (made across town here at the Herkulessaal).

The CD* of miniatures by Federico Mompou (1893–1987), recorded last December in Berlin, is a worthy issue in these times of superfluity. Few distinguished recordings have been made of the Spaniard’s music, and Volodos commits himself intensely to it, judging from his liner essay as well as his playing. Although the output is often related to Satie, Mompou’s late imaginative world (not the style) lies closer to Debussy in his Préludes.

Volodos declares the four Música callada sets (1951, 1962, 1965, 1967) to be peaks of achievement: “ … the music [Mompou] spent all his life moving towards … wrested from eternity, as if it already existed in the Spheres … .” He plays eleven of the pieces, from the total of 28, drawing on all four sets in a sequence his own. This “quietened music” is both abstract and personal, the product of an old solitary man, but not one at death’s door; Mompou lived another twenty years after completing Set 4. Many pieces are “Lento,” a marking that satisfies the composer for divergent exercises in peace (VI), pain and emptiness (XXI), and generalized remoteness or stillness. Others, such as the Moderato XXIV of 1967, flow so plainly and concisely that a marking is hardly needed. The many chilly passages in the Música callada tend to be broken by warm chords in unexpected places.

Volodos revels in the myriad nuances of these valued miniatures and, as in Brahms, downplays contrasts in favor of coherence. He finds fantasy here and there, catches the fleeting moments of excitement, and instantly lets ideas go when they must. The interpretations are light of touch and magical.

Half of the disc holds short independent works, most of them tellingly shaped. In Preludio 12 (1960) and elsewhere, Volodos shows Vlado Perlemuter’s knack for placing just the right weightings in pale adjacent phrases to support a long idea, saving music that could easily sound aimless. The much earlier (1918) Scènes d’enfants suite, home of the cute encore Jeunes filles au jardin, receives an imaginative traversal. Sony’s release is strikingly packaged with photographic details of Antonio Gaudí buildings in Barcelona, the composer’s home town, although typos mar its booklet. The company might now want to entice Volodos into documenting the remaining Música callada.

[*In August 2014 the disc received an Echo Klassik Award.]

Photo © Sony Music Entertainment

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