Newtown sadness

There are times when there are no words. There are times when we cannot begin to understand what goes on in someone's mind, what makes them do something so unthinkable.

But, one thing I do know. Now is exactly the time when gun control must be tackled. Now, while you have the grief and horror real in people's minds, while we all remember just how horrific it is. Yes, it is painful, and yes it will be messy. But America, if you want to be taken seriously as the world's policeman, as you often want to, you have to start by policing your own people effectively. And that means, start by getting serious about guns. Guns kill people. That is their point. You want to stop these massacres happening? Stop selling guns designed to kill large numbers of people. Its quite simple really.

I personally am not affected by the losses felt by those in Connecticut, but my heart bleeds for all those who are. Anytime we kill the young, we lessen ourselves as a people.

I will leave a link to some research on the Australian experience here. (One of the few things that John Howard did as PM that I actually respect him for)





After that, its time for more nice music….

Gambler's ruin

Well, Queen of Spades is certainly a great ride. Especially when you have a cast like this. I mean, Ghermann in the hands of Stuart Skelton? Andrei Bondarenko as Yeletsky? Dina Kurznetsova as Lisa, Deborah Humble as Pauline (and Milovszor) and Jose Carbó as Tomsky (and Zlatogor). Not to mention Irina Tchistjakova as the Countess.

All of these singers were truly outstanding in their roles. Big voices taking on big roles, and relishing being on stage with the full Sydney Symphony Orchestra in full flight under the baton of Vladimir Ashkenazy, with the Sydney Philharmonia Choirs fabulously providing the chorus (and a handful of minor roles) If you love lush romantic opera, then this was a night to remember.

And yet, it was, in some ways, not as fulfilling as if it had been staged. Granted, being able to see who is singing what when, makes it much easier to follow the story and understand what is going on, compared to listening on CD or the radio, but nothing matches the emotional impact of seeing something like this, with this sort of cast, fully staged. And I can't see that happening in a long time, which is a big pity. The emotional devastation of the triple deaths of this opera did not come remotely close to the shock/horror/awe/amazement/numbness that I felt at the end of Lucia this year. Yes I was exhilarated, but not "bludgeoned into insensibility" as I would expect I would have been, if I saw this in the theatre. There is only so much emotional response you can get from singers standing in evening dress and singing from book (or not, in the case of our Russian cast) 

But, why was it so good, regardless? Well, quite frankly the cast, and the conductor. Ashkenazy may not be the most precise conductor, but he knows how to wring out emotion and atmosphere, and colour from an orchestra. Yes, there were places where the ensemble was a bit ragged (mostly, it must be said, from the orchestra) but they were working clearly to bring out the effects wanted. And they were restricted to only a couple of places (that I noticed). What was more problematic for me was that our seats seemed to be in direct firing line of the trombones (despite being well back in the hall) so that when they fired up, we heard them then we heard everything else underneath them.

And the cast. Stuart Skelton in the role of Ghermann, bringing his Wagnerian stamina to a role that needs a similar voice to the big Wagner tenor roles. Its long (almost 3 hours) and he sings in every scene, most as the dominant figure. His is a big, bright, pingy sound, the sort that you long to hear sing Walter von Stolzing, rather than Siegfried. Here, he cut through the heavy orchestration (excepting the occasional trombone problem mentioned earlier) with ease. Perhaps not sounding as ease as he has when I have heard him in German or English, but this was (I believe) his first outing as Ghermann. As such, this was truly impressive. I look forward to hearing him growing into this role more in the future.

Andrei Bondarenko, who last year shot to fame in the Cardiff Singer of the World competition, winning the Song Prize, was an impressive Yeletsky, Lisa's fiancé at the start of the opera. Here he showed that his prize was no once off, this is a baritone with a huge voice (it seemed the biggest where I sat) of great beauty. His singing was probably my personal highlight in a very impressive night, but I could be showing my baritone prejudices too. He sang without score, and left me wanting to hear him sing more. I suspect all the big Russian baritone roles lie ahead, as well as the great Verdi baritone roles, which he will sing with ease.

Also truly impressive was Deborah Humble, who I heard earlier in the year in Die Tote Stadt, and thought this is a voice to watch. Well, judging by this performance, I want to hear her sing a lot of Russian music, her voice seemed to revel in it. Where as the German of Korngold's music was more an impressive display of pleasing sound, this was an outpouring of emotion, wrapped up in an aural rich melted chocolate, rich, thick and very enjoyable. It almost made me wish that her role as Pauline was bigger, but, she did get great music to sing as Pauline and in the "pastoral" in the second act.

Dina Kuznetsova as Lisa? Well, I loved her voice, but at times I wished her top notes were freer, sounding a little tight at times. Not badly, but enough that I wished for say, Dame Kiri's top notes, sitting on the top of her beautiful rich midrange. Make no mistake, this is a big beautiful voice, with enormous power, but a couple of times I was wishing for secure floated high notes as needed, but they came out tight. Having said that, Lisa is a huge role, and this was a performance of many strengths, and emotional depth, mostly sung from memory, and with a clear sense of the character she was playing.

Our Countess, to be honest was not really old enough. Would anyone want to hear an 80 year old singing this role though? Regardless off looking far too young, Irina Tchistjakova was a convincing older woman vocally. She portrayed someone no longer wanting to live and yet hanging on, making life for others miserable successfully. Again, we had the Russian singer off book (well, she has sung it before, no doubt many times) And yes, again, a singer with the voice to carry off this role, not just an older performer with the acting skills to pull it off. (although she was probably the oldest lead)

As Tomsky, Jose Carbó once again proves himself far more versatile than people expect. As Tomsky, the Countess's grandson* and Ghermann's friend, he tells the tale that sets off the obsession to find the secret, in a voice that, while sounding a little underwhelmed beside that of our Yeletsky's, was certainly not small. His scene in the pastoral, and his aria in the final scene were proof we should be hearing much more of him in Russian. Onyegin perhaps Opera Australia?

Of the other minor roles, none stood out as bad, or particularly miscast. My biggest gripe with the minor roles was simply that all of them would have benefited from having someone work with them to bring out more characterisation on stage. They sounded fine, but watching four performers who sing of interactions with each other, while standing behind music stands is a bit, well, odd. That most of them were younger singers with less experience meant that some coaching would have made a big difference.

Having said that, if a lack of action on stage in a classical concert is the worst thing you can say about someone, I think you can say they did well.. In fact it is safe to say everyone on stage was pretty damn amazing. And for that, I thank them, and the Sydney Symphony for setting up the concert.

By the way, here is Bondarenko singing Prince Yeletsky's big aria. (After singing Don Giovanni's champagne aria) Its the best thing I could find of him, but does not begin to capture the sheer volume of luscious sound he produces.

(This performance can be heard on Sunday 9/12/12  at 7pm on ABC Classic fm, via their website (here) - that is Australian Eastern Daylight Savings Time, if you are overseas)







*Pushkin refers to Tomsky as the Countess's grandson, its not mentioned in the opera. Where as Lisa is her grand daughter in the opera, and an orphaned ward in the story.

Adés' The Tempest

Well, that was a ride and a half.

Seriously, this is one of those operas that takes you, immerses you in its world, and when you come out to the day to day world, you are left thinking, can I go back? That world is much more vital and alive. Not that I would mind you, its just that this is the power of this work, the music, the staging and the performers come together in a complete whole that leaves the natural world seem dull in comparison. Then again, this does seem appropriate for a story with such fantastical elements in it. A storm that is conjured up to wreck a boat and shipwreck the Neapolitan Court on the very island that the man who was deposed by them lives with his daughter? From round one, the story asks you to suspend disbelief. And that does not let up until the end. The fact that we do, says all you need to know about this production. It really does work from go to wow, leaving you feeling you have seen Something Special.

But why? Well, I suspect the music has a lot to do with it. Thomas Adés's music is every thing you could hope for. It ranges from the ferocious for the storm at the start, to just plain gorgeous when the lovers unit, with lyrical, singable lines throughout, unless you are of course Ariel, but more about that later. The music also totally reflects the characters too. The young lovers get beautiful long lines to convey their feelings, Prospero and the other leading court figures tend to be exclamatory, as people used to getting their own way. The chorus tend to spend their time setting mood, not getting big sings, but singing snippets of text that convey how they are feeling.

Oh yes, the text. This was the only weak point in the whole show. Seriously, so many freaking rhyming couplets? Was that REALLY necessary? I mean, I get that having a libretto in verse would make setting it easier for some composers, bringing out an innate music to the language. And, that, Adés has achieved in spades, but, do we really need the continuous rhymes? I suspect if I was not paying attention to them with the subtitles, I would not have noticed, but with some characters it was needed (e.g. Ariel), while others it was not.

Speaking of which, the performers. Really, there were no week links here. (as you would hope with The Met) If all operas were as well cast as this was, I would be a very happy boy. But they are not, so I am going to single out a handful.

First of all, there is no escaping the magisterial performance of Simon Keenleyside as Prospero. He strides the stage overseeing all the action, when he is not taking part in it. Frequently he can not be seen by the performers, but only by the audience, but he makes it work. This is a performance that would make him a star, if he was not already. The man cannot sing a note wrong in this. Then again, it was written with him in mind. It needs a singer who can act without singing, while still being able to sing up a storm on demand. The only person I have heard live I would trust in it would be Teddy Tahu Rhodes, purely because he is that sort of stage animal.

As for Ariel the spirit, well, Audrey Luna is something freaky, in a good way. The writing for the role reflects that Ariel is a creature of the air. Written for a coloratura, this role sends the singer way into the stratosphere vocally, and well beyond what would normally be considered usable. This helps to create the idea of Ariel as not of the normal world. Her line is frequently spiky, reflecting the fact that while she is controlled by Prospero, she is a character who exists beyond that also, and chafes against the restrictions, and longs to be free. It works very well.

On the other hand, Caliban, the other "other than human character" is much more earthbound. His music is more lyrical and human, yet he is clearly not. As played by Alan Oke, he is a tortured creature longing to regain his birthright, as ruler of the island. He also longs to marry Miranda, but when she rejects him near the end, saying basically "look at you, its unthinkable" we realise no one sees him as human, even if we are not sure what he is.

As the two lovers, Alek Shrader and Isabel Leonard sing beautiful music beautifully. They convincingly play the lovers who meet and fall in love after meeting. That we can believe this easily is helped by them being film star gorgeous, and with voices to match. The duet they sing just before the interval is in many ways the heart of this piece. It demonstrates the power of love to overcome all, even the power of Prospero and Ariel's magic, freeing Ferdinand from his prison.

But, ultimately, like any opera, this stands or falls on the quality of the performances. And in this case it really does stand tall. And proud. And, I loved every second.

 

 

A brief Ballet post

So, last night we went to the ballet, a most unusual thing for me. I've never really got the ballet, something I will openly admit. I mean, sure I enjoy ogling the hot bodies of the males and admire the athleticism, but it does not move me. Not the way a good opera performance will. But that is me, others will.

So, there we were at the ballet, seeing three pieces from the Australian Ballet's past, put together as Icons. All three are significant works from the past of the company, and in many ways, each has helped to define the company through the years, being works that keep being presented at regular intervals.

The first one, "the Display" I am will openly say I did not like. It seemed both an unlikely piece and one that portrayed Australian society in an unpleasant light. A girl goes into the bush for a picnic, watches a lyrebird dance, is joined by her boyfriend, his friends and their girlfriends. the boys drink beer, play Aussie rules and then an outsider turns up. He flirts with the girl, the other males get annoyed, the boyfriend fights the outsider and they all leave the outsider for dead. The girl comes back later, finds the outsider, who then "rapes" the girl, they get disturbed by the lyrebird, causing the boy to run off. The lyrebird mounts the girl, with her apparent willingness.

Now, don't get me wrong. I could see most of that happening (apart from the lyrebird mounting a girl, obviously) But, as a ballet I found the subject lacking the beauty I was expecting. Where was the pleasure I was paying to get (Although I had not paid in this case, it was a gift from a friend for us) To be sure, it spoke volumes about our fractured society in Australia, that even a bird paid more attention to a girl, than the man she was supposed to be in love with. But there was no one I felt any thing for. Not one person left me moved, not even the plight of the girl. I just watched, impressed by the dancing, unmoved by the story (and there was much to admire in Sir Robert Helpman's choreography, especially the football scene).

Which makes my love of the next piece all the more interesting.Gemini (set to the music of the recently deceased Hans Werner Henze Symphony 3) was a totally abstract piece, with no story, just movement and the interplay between the four dancers. Yet it left me utterly gripped. Amazing performers dancing on a stage whose scenic elements looked like it was a nightmare of a 70's disco, with plain lycra costumes, it gripped you. It was long enough to ensure it did not overstay its welcome, yet left us feeling "that was special" As I said afterwards "that was everything I don't like about ballet, yet I loved it" If I knew ballet well, I could probably explain why, just accept the fact that while it ticked every box that should have set my wankometer into overload, it didn't through some weird alchemy of impressiveness.

Which leaves the final piece, "Beyond Twelve" a piece choreographed by Graeme Murphy to Ravel's Piano Concerto in G. This on paper sounded even more self absorbed and wankerous than the previous piece. The title refers to the age of the dancer of the start. A young boy, caught between his love of (Aussie Rules) football, and the ballet, and his awkward relationship with his parents. The second part of it looks at the same performer after 18, approaching the peak of his power, and experiencing first love, with his dance partner. And the third part (danced to the slow middle movement of the concerto, just to confuse) was about the same dancer as he approached the end of his dancing career, looking back on his life in dance, and towards an uncertain future. You can see why my wankometer threatened to go through the roof for that!

Yet this was definitely the most moving piece of the night. It was funny, it had believable characters and it had humanity. Graeme Murphy has always been a choreographer who at his heart likes to tell stories, and this worked beautifully. Yes, it was self referential,  but it was concerned with universal themes, with ageing, and the way that men struggle to deal with growing old, if they dare to stop and think about the changes. It ended with a dance between the three men who performed the different aged performers, which managed to not be in any way homoerotic, while still demonstrating the power and athleticism of each dancer. The others then left the stage, as the mature dancer took the spotlight, while the scenery was removed, leaving the backbones of the stage, reflecting the uncertain future out of the spotlight. It was a moving ending and an unexpected coup de theatre that felt just right. Just like all of this third part of the night.

The Display, music by Malcolm Williamson, Choreography by Sir Robert Helpman
Gemini, Musc by Hans Werner Henze (symphony 3), Choreography by Glen Tetley
Beyond Twelve, music by Maurice Ravel (Piano concerto in G), choreography by Graeme Murphy

Happy families, not...

Ok, so Salome and her crazy family. I just saw them today. And, yes, they are all nuts. Mum clearly does not like her husband, and is jealous of her daughter, but also clearly taught her well. Daughter uses her beauty to get her step dad to do what she wants. Clearly she has learnt to twist men around her finger, but not anything about right or wrong.

Which really gets to the heart of the matter. Salome is both femme fatale and yet naive innocent. She knows how to get What she wants, but she clearly has no moral compass. She meets someone with a powerful one, but fails to convince him to succumb to her charms. And from there it all goes pear shaped.

The decision was made to show the feast that is repeatedly referred to throughout the opera. They are at the back of the stage, raised up but also hidden behind a curtain of clear plastic strips, letting us know they are there, but seeming them not noticing what happens outside. "Outside" is a circular platform with a huge metal grate in it. There are a series of about 7 curved stairs down to the floor level of the stage. Most of the action takes place on the round platform, or the stairs in front of them. The grate of course, is raised up to allow access to Jokanaan, when needed. Costumes are best described as regie-light. Yes, none of them match the period this opera is set in, but they all are appropriate for the person wearing them. Herod looks like a overweight pimp in a shiny yellow suit. Salome and Herodias have out there trashy look at me look at me dresses, with head gear to match (and OTT hairstyles often too) . The religious guests at the feast are all dressed in the costume appropriate to whatever type of priest they are representing. (They are not all Jews here) And Narraboth and the soldiers are a mix of army camoflage pants, with upper body armour that looks like it came from some scifi movie. As I said, regie light costuming.

So. You begin to get a sense of what it looked like, what did it sound like? Well, to be honest, mostly very good. No one stood out as bad, most were very well cast, some were astonishingly good. I heard no bad singing, and a lot of amazing singing. I also saw a lot of powerful acting in what ultimately is a how not to guide to family values.

None of the minor characters stood out as bad, most surprised with how good they sounded. The fact that Kanen Breen was relegated to mere First Jew, gives you an idea, that luxury casting was applied. David Corcoran was seriously good as the doomed Narraboth. His death early on, both shocked and upset (as it should) when he realised that Salome in person, was not the beautiful ideal he had in his mind, but a twisted soul trapped within a beautiful facade.

Salome herself, performed by Cheryl Barker, was a monster, in the best way. Her performance was gripping, moving and also believable. She portrayed Salome as both victim and as active participant who causes things to happen. Yes, I still think Salome needs a bigger voice, but Cheryl makes a strong case for not needing a dramatic soprano in this role. To be sure, there are times when her voice struggles to deal with the combination of heavy orchestra and the vocal writing, but she rises above it to deliver a towering final scene that had us believing. And moved. And it has to be said, she does have something of the girlishness about her voice still, that this role should have, but few do.

As her mother, Jacqui Dark was suitably demented. She adds to her list of demented monster roles, a Herodias who you seriously do not want to meet in the street. There was nothing subtle about the performance, but then, Herodias was not written to be subtle. Her stentorian tones blasted across all others in the take no prisoners style we expect. You almost do not blame Herod for looking at his stepdaughter, when his wife has become such a vile harridan of a creature.

And Herod? Well, John Pickering was amazing (and creepy). This is the first time I have encountered him in the flesh, and, well, I hope to again. Im thinking he would make an excellent Mime or Loge. Here he makes light work of an incredibly wordy part, flinging off huge amounts of dialogue through the music, while remaining totally musical and in character. He was far and away the best performer, in my opinion, in a very strong cast.

As our Jokanaan, we had the ever reliable John Wegner, portraying yet another tortured soul. This one though, is physically tortured, while his soul is elsewhere. I was perhaps less convinced by him acting as the otherworldly prophet, but there was no complaints about his sound. I felt that using speakers for him when in the cistern, was probably unnecessary, but I also recognise that with the stage at the Opera House, putting him in the pit to sing his "in cistern" lines, would not give him much time to get to up to where he needed to be when he emerged into the light. It was probably unnecessary, but it also worked. It gave his prophetic pronouncements more power, making him more the person to be afraid of, even when imprisoned. At times I did wonder if I needed to see more otherworldliness from him, but then, he did seem comparatively sane, in a world going mad around him.

Now, about the Dance. That fraught thing about Salome, is most singers who are believable in the famous Dance of the 7 veils, are not likely to be capable to sing the role. Rather than have Cheryl do some sort of big long dance number shedding clothing, our director opted to have each of the seven veils represent a different female character, an archetype of men's fantasies of women if you will. It works, probably better as a concept than in reality, but if you know it in advance, it certainly made sense. And it was a lot more believable than her doing a solo dance for the almost 10 mins of the dance, shedding clothes as she goes….

So, to sum up, on a scale of 10? I would give this production, as seen today a 9. Not quite as amazing as Lucia, but still awesomely sung, and brilliantly theatrical. And yes, moving. Though, to be honest, I have no idea why I cared about such vile people. That I think says all you need to know.







Here is something of the infamous dance:

And ABC TV's news report:

Not the best Butterfly

I find it rather telling, that most of my complaints I had with this production of Madama Butterfly can be laid at the feet of who ever cast it. Not all, but with a more appropriate cast, most of my complaints would not have happened.

To start with, if I said that the only two people who were cast correctly on voice type were Goro and Sharpless, you might begin to get an idea of why I was disappointed. When your character tenor is louder in the opening scene than your romantic lead, you have a problem. Early on, I was wondering if it would have been better to reverse the casting. Of course, with the veteran Graeme McFarlane, that might have changed the way we think about Pinkerton, but it still gives you an idea.

Quite frankly, as I said to people afterwards, who would expect me to be more moved by Lucia than Butterfly? That an opera I never go to unless I know the cast will lift a boring night into a thrilling one was more moving than an opera that should leave one either a blubbering mess or annoyed at the injustice of life, or hating men, I think says it all.
  
But why you ask? Well, to start with, I never was convinced Pinkerton was seriously interested in Butterfly. There were 2 main reasons for this. First, you need to be able to sing the music in an ardent manner, with power to burn to convince. It's not a role you give to a Mozartian tenor. To be sure, his is a beautiful voice, used well, but nothing could make up for the serious lack of power. If he had been swapped with the Edgardo we say in Lucia, both operas would have been improved, I suspect. He also did not look captivated by her. Maybe his acting did not carry to the back of the theatre, but I never felt the passion. I did not feel they were about to rip each other's clothes off after the big duet between Butterfly and Pinkerton. Considering the passionate nature of the music, and the fact we are talking their wedding night, that says damp squib more than anything else.

Our Butterfly was Japanese, and to be honest, that always gives me concerns. I have yet to hear a Japanese soprano whose voice has the power to sing Butterfly well. I'm not saying they do not exist, but Hiromi Omura did not convince me they do. Again, a beautiful voice, but not a voice with the sort of emotional power you need as Butterfly. Pretty voiced, and mostly successful in a production designed around one of Australia's more charismatic singers, but just not nearly big enough, or able to hold our interest. We need to remember, Butterfly is an Italian opera character with a Japanese veneer, not a Japanese character with an Italian veneer, which is more what we got.

Instead, we got a singer who sounded like she should have been singing Pamina, probably with a small Mozartian orchestra, not singing a big Puccini role. Yes, she produced a beautiful sound with good legato, with a sweet tone from top to bottom. But, this role needs a beautiful voice with the power to thrill, where she sounds triumphant in her climactic notes in Un bel di. Here, we did not get that. Rather we had pretty singing from a voice that was hopelessly miscast.

Suzuki you say? Well, Domenica Matthews as Suzuki was what I expected. That is to say, competent, a credible performance, but if the cast had the voices required for the role, she would have been miscast. With a small voiced Butterfly, it did not matter, but then, a big voiced Suzuki would have been wrong in this cast also…
  
The rest of the cast? None of them stood out as bad or particularly good. They were competent, as you expect, although, the Yamadori of Malcolm Ede was almost inaudible at times.

Now having said that, this is a stunningly pretty production. The set is a series of Japanese paper screen style walls that are raised and lowered as appropriate to reveal other people or scenery outside. There is a wooden platform in the centre which is surrounded by a shallow moat.  Besides the usual named characters and the chorus (who only appear on stage during the wedding at the start) there are 5 mute performers who are dressed like lepers (it is the obvious description when you see them), or, I guess, Butoh performers. They spend much of the opera on stage stationary,  or carrying things on stage for the performers. They are never acknowledged as existing, even as characters take props from them.

The costumes are all typically Japanese appearing, though I could not comment on how authentic they are. Most of the costumes in the opening were in shades of red. They always spoke volumes about the characters, with Butterfly changing to darker sombre colours as the performance progressed.  

So, to sum up. This was a deeply disappointing Madama Butterfly, with performers who should not have been cast in the roles they were. All I can do is leave you with a reminder of how good this production can be, with Cheryl Barker as Butterfly, and Jay Hunter Morris as her Pinkerton. If only I had seen that, not last night's cast!

And, a late edit to bring you this:

This is how you do Butterfly! Full blooded, with intense passion!!!

(And yes, the video is crap, but what a voice!)

Learning to love Lucia again

So, before I began to talk about the current Lucia di Lammermoor, I felt it was important to give you a good idea of what Emma Matthews sounds like. This aria is from The Love of the Nightingale, by Richard Mills, and the role was written with her in mind. When I hear this now, I can't help hearing how perfectly it shows off everything that Lucia does too. Florid singing, check;  effortless high nights floating in the stratosphere, check; ability to convey emotion purely by sound, check; fearlessness, check.

So, what does her Lucia sound like? Well, at present the only thing available on youtube is a bad video from the previous production. The sound is quite good, considering, but the video is frankly, pretty poor quality. We seriously need video of Emma doing this role, in this production. She frankly, is astonishing.

Now, this is the old production that used to be the star vehicle for Dame Joan Sutherland. Dame Joan, who probably sets the standard by which other voices should be judged by in this role, is a very different performer to Emma. Emma has the fearlessness of a modern acting singer who has worked with directors who live in a world where the singer is not king, but the tool to create what they want. Dame Joan worked mostly with directors who worshipped the ground she walked on, so her performances are very much a reflection of that. I cannot imagine Dame Joan ever singing flat on a table, legs spread as if welcoming her lover into her. That happens during the mad scene in this production of Lucia, and it was totally appropriate for the character, a reminder that though unhinged, it was all about the characters' relationships in this opera.

To give you an idea of what this production looks like, this is the mad scene from La Fenice (its a coproduction with Opera Australia and Houston Grand Opera), who had the video rights for this new production (with Jessica Pratt as Lucia):

As you can see from this, this is a very dark, gothic take on the opera. The stage is very bare, decorated with images of storm clouds the whole time. There is nothing quite like seeing an empty stage with only one person for making that person look lost, or drawing attention to that person. Though, quite what doing that with Normanno at the beginning and end of many scenes, I am not sure what the director was trying to achieve. Making it seem what happened was a result of him puling the strings perhaps? If so, it was not made clear.

Having said that, this was a stunning looking Lucia. Everyone apart from Lucia, Arturo and Enrico spent the evening in dark sombre coloured clothes. There was very little scenery or props. A couple of chairs now and then, the table in the mad scene, the wedding register for the wedding scene, other than that, nothing of import. There was also no fountain (this features prominently in the plot) but the fountain was played as being where the orchestra was, which meant you forgot about it not being there.

Mostly, the direction and setting being so minimalist and dark was ideal. It focused your attention on the story and the music, where it belonged, This was was not a production where you were constantly distracted by unnecessary things making you think "What is that there for? How does that fit in the plot?" Rather, it was designed specifically to enhance the sombre mood, and to focus attention on the principal singers, rather than anywhere else. The only time this was not successful, was paradoxically in some of the big set pieces, where the chorus were moved around for no apparent reason, or where they were deliberately moved in ways that distracted attention from what was going on? A failure to trust the performers to keep attention focused on what was happening, perhaps? Or a lack of trust on the audience's attention span? Either way, there were a couple of times where I thought, why are the chorus doing that, and never saw the point, apart from creating movement. Sometimes it was distracting from crucial action, which seems very odd.

The music was under the capable hands of Christian Badea, who brought a very precise sound from the orchestra. A couple of times I was thinking, I wished he had conducted either of the Aidas I went to, as he understood the need for precision, in a way I missed in the Aida ensemble work. There are times when music must be precise, and times when you can let your hair down and run with it. Our conductor here kept everything tightly together, and sympathetic to the singers on stage, while bringing a potent orchestral presence.

I have to say also, before I get to the singers, not only did the director and designer do a great job with this production, so too did the lighting designer. Working as much with shadow as with light, she really helped to bring out the creepy in the relationship between Enrico and Lucia. At other times, shadows were used to indicate that others are  just out of sight, but we know they are there, listening, ready to take their part in the drama.

Now, to the singers... First of all, in Lucia there are three characters who exist to be cyphers. In their own right, they hardly matter, except they enable the story to proceed in important ways. Normanno, the first of these, is the man who in many ways sets the action off. He reveals to Enrico about Lucia's affair with a man he suspects is Edgardo, their sworn enemy. That's really his sole point, to set off Enrico and be his offsider as needed. As an actor Jonathon Abernethy was fine, bringing a touch of creepy stalkerish behaviour to his treatment of Lucia, and being a frequent malevolent presence at the start and end of scenes. As a singer, well, if I heard him I might have been happy, but in the opening, he got drowned out by the chorus! Thankfully, he did not often have to sing over them, but his sounded a pleasant enough character tenor, but frankly, even Normanno needs a voice that carries. Once he was singing without the chorus, it was fine, but, it really was not a good introduction.

As Alisa, Lucia's nurse, Teresa La Rocca seemed a little wasted. She is someone who is used to having big roles, and singing them well. Here she was the nurse and constant companion, who exists to be Lucia's confidante and care giver. Again, it is a role that is more about being a presence and an actor, than being a singer. Having a good singer in the role, seems well, luxurious. But, throughout the opera, she proved her worth, helping to reinforce the sense that Lucia has long been unstable. That what happens after the wedding, was not just a result of current events, but that Alisa had been keeping it from happening for a long time.

Then we have Arturo, the ill fated bride groom, sung by Andrew Brunsdon. He comes on as the conquering hero who is here to save the family from ruin, but brings about his own ruin. Vocally he was more than up to the task. Arturo only exists in one scene, and having a good singer who solely exists to die offstage always seems a bit odd, but welcome in this case. Having said that, I can't help thinking that his voice suits the more dramatic roles than the lyric ones. I'm not saying he is a dramatic tenor, but this role did not seem to sit as well as the messenger in Aida did. Tho, in either case, he did what was needed, and did it well.

Now, as Raimondo, we had a far too youthful Richard Anderson. We always think of the priest as old, and in this case, he looked a similar age to the other leads. It was not a problem, it was just... Odd. The age normally helps him to come across as offering wisdom to Lucia, encouraging her to go ahead with the marriage, where as with him younger, he seemed somehow to be more in league with Enrico, which to me makes him a less sympathetic character. At any rate, he sang his two arias and ensemble work with the authority we expect from him, his big resonant bass navigating the florid demands with ease and security. Possibly, I expect more luxuriating in the melody of his big aria that announces Lucia's madness, but I suspect that was not his choice to make. It somehow seems cruel for one of the best bass arias to occur just before all memory of it gets obliterated by the mad scene to end all mad scenes.

As Edgardo, I found James Valenti very much a mixed bag. On the one hand, his is a voice with an undeniably pleasing sound. On the other, I heard a lot of things that made me worry for him. To me, he sounds like a singer working too hard, trying to force the sound rather than allowing it to bloom. People sometimes talk of a manufactured sound, rather than a organic one, and that was how it felt to me. By the end I felt that less (was he better warmed up perhaps?) but at the same time, his high notes were a struggle and not pretty. Granted, the final scene is a cruel piece of writing for any tenor, but I expected more.  Having said all that, he was convincing as the hot headed lover who fell in love with his enemy's sister, and certainly looked the part. I'm just worried that he is not achieving what he could be, vocally, based on what I heard.

As Enrico, I was biased to dislike Giorgio Caoduro. To my mind, this role belongs to Jose Carbo in Australia. Having witnessed Jose first hand, I find it hard to imagine a better local singer in the role. I also do not see why we should bring in a foreign singer to sing this when someone local sings it so well. On the other hand, having now heard him, I am very happy to have him. Giorgio brings many things to this role, with a great voice being one of them. By the end of the night, I was impressed. I was also wishing he had sung Amonasro in the Aidas I saw in the same theatre. Something tells me it will be in his future.

Which brings me to Emma as Lucia.

Now, a word of warning here. I only really wanted to go to Lucia because it was Emma. This is an opera I know and know well. I have sung chorus in it, and quite frankly, most of the time, I would not choose to go to a Lucia. Its the sort of opera where unless the leads are special, it is just a tedious night out. In this case, the hype was fully justified. Emma may not have the massive voice of Dame Joan in this role, but she is a singer whose voice is always audible, and it never felt small in this role. For such a small figure, the size of sound produced seems somehow a freak of nature. From the opening with Regnava, through to the end of the mad scene when Alisa leads her off, with her having regressed to a childlike state at the end, this was HER opera. Every note was like a drop of crystal, ringing clear throughout the theatre. Brightly polished and gleaming, her voice is a miracle of laser precision and clarity.

At the same time, while singing the fiendish music with her trademark beauty of tone, Emma lives this role. This is the second role I have seen her in recently where she ends up with blood all over her (Nightingale being the other) and here she revels in it. Not as in, her character becomes a bloodthirsty madwoman, but that while in the psychotic state of the mad scene, she is all bloodied and wallows in it. It was a picture of a woman truly unhinged. That she is so convincing while singing with such incredible beauty at the same time is unbelieveable. Except I saw it, and heard it. She is all that, and damn good too.

So, yes, this is a Lucia worth going to see. It is a Lucia worth taking a weekend away to see if need be. This is a production that will haunt me. It is already haunting one of my friends who was there last night for his third time in this run! While I am not that fanatical, this is a production and a cast I would happily see again. The fact that I am saying this about an opera I tend to avoid probably says all you need to know.

I am also shocked that this is not being recorded for posterity. It should be.


This is all that is available on line of this magnificent production...

Orpheus 2 (Monteverdi)

Before I write about the performance of L’Orfeo I saw the other day, I think I need to provide some background on vocal techniques. If you are already familiar with the differing sound of what are classed as “authentic performance practice” vs the modern operatic sound, feel free to skip straight to the main review section. Otherwise, keep reading.

Just to refresh, this is the sort of voice we think of in opera

Jessye Norman singing Dido's lament

You might think of this as a “bel canto” sound. Basically, this is a style of singing designed to carry over a large orchestra, in large theatres. A singer sounding like this has trained to maximise the size of the sound they produce, by working to increase the resonance they can produce.  This also requires using the abdominal muscles and diaphragm to provide airflow under pressure through the throat and out. Paradoxically, training in this way is often about learning to “get out of the way of the sound” rather than learning what to do to produce the best sound. 

The biggest difference between how a classical singer and the average "normal" singer produce sound is in how they control the airflow. When you sing, do you think of pulling the air up through your throat? Or does the air get pushed up by the pressure from below? If you don't know, you probably have a sensation of pulling it up most of the time. It's just one of the reasons why opera singers sound different. Opera singers by relying on pressure from below, free up mechanisms that enable a more resonant sound to develop.

This produces a sound with lots of resonance, or harmonic overtones, if you will. This provides the additional ping that enables operatic voices to cut through the wall of sound of an orchestra (or a chorus) and be heard as a distinct recognisable sound, carrying over the other sounds. How is this achieved? By training, based on long recognised practices developed over past centuries. Also, more recently, the why this works has become understood better as a result of improving medical diagnostic equipment providing a better understanding of how singers function, by enabling us to see into throats as people sing.

Now, with opera singers, we have a pretty good idea of what they sounded like from the 1800's on. We can draw lines and compare with recorded voices and get a reliable sense of how the performers many composers were writing for sounded like. And we have written descriptions, and teaching manuals written from this time to compare, including some that we still refer to. And, it is close enough in memory that we can tell the changes in technique have been more about a lifting of the lower standards, than changes at the high end. So, we have more singers who can sing well, than we had in the past.

However, when we deal in the baroque or earlier, we lose all sense of immediacy and connection. We know that the training was not as thorough for most people, we know that music performance was usually in much smaller numbers, we know that opera was not something that just anyone went to. And yet, when it comes to what the sounds were like, we are reduced to relying on eyewitness descriptions, with no common starting point to compare it to. None of the singers described of course, were ever recorded. 

One of the most common beliefs is that the level of additional harmonics in early vocal practice was much less. The orchestras they were singing against were not as large, so they did not have the need to produce as focused and loud a sound to be heard. So, in many ways, the sound we hear today is more a result of increasing orchestra numbers, than any  aesthetic ideal, though the result became an ideal as well, if you follow. 

But, the modern developing technique did not just increase the sound produced, it also enabled notes to be sung over a bigger range. There is a noticeable increase in the range required to sing music when you go from the the baroque and earlier to more recent music. The improving techniques which were passed on allowed the extremes of a singer's voice to be used easier, and with more pleasing results. The additional resonance allowed vocal imperfections to be hidden, and allowed the singers more flexibility, as well as beautify the sound. 

Another thing that happened with the changing techniques was the increase in the use of vibrato. We can assume this partly because vibrato comes with a free healthy vocal technique. A good voice technique is usually thought of as one that brings freedom to the voice production, with reduced tension. And, of course, as tension goes, and the voice becomes free, you will get vibrato. It's one of the things a voice teacher will be pleased as it happens, not as an end in itself, but because it is a sign of reduced tension. 

But vibrato also is useful for singers because it hides pitch imperfections and helps to even the sound across a singer’s range. If you are slightly off the required frequency for a note, the vibrato masks that, by adding momentary changes on pitch and volume. It is commonly accepted that early music singers did not sing with strong vibrato, in part because of its association with modern voice production. So, if it is something that develops during the development of a modern technique, many assume automatically, it does not belong in an early music vocal sound, forgetting that some people have one naturally, simply because that is the way they always sound. It's not like we can check the recordings, is it? 

So, if you were listening to a baroque or pre baroque vocal performance, what should you be hearing? Well, part of it is inevitably a matter of taste. There is a school of thought that says you should always try to replicate the experience the music was created for, to best appreciate it, a position I do hold some sympathy for. After all, hearing Handel and Bach performed on the type of instruments they wrote for, not modern ones, has revolutionised how we hear their music. We now hear the lightness and dance rhythms that frequently were lost amidst the richness of a modern orchestra's textures. This is what we call the "authentic performance" or period instrument movement.

Emma Kirkby singing the same aria with a more "authentic" sound

At the same time, we also have seen the problems of performing on those same instruments. Modern violin strings made from metal hold their tune longer, and provide a richer sound. Most of the modern wind and brass instruments are easier to play, and easier to hit on tune notes, ensuring the notes played are what the composer wrote, even if they do not sound the way he expected. As a result, many feel we should stick to using modern instruments. Surely Bach would have written for modern violins if he knew about them, would be how they might think.

Of course, with instruments, its fairly clear cut, we know what was being written for, we know what instruments were being made by whom, and often, for whom. With voices, it gets harder. We have no way for sure of saying what people sounded like. We can make educated guesses about performance styles and techniques based on what we know of musical history and the like, but they do remain guesses. We know that early operas were usually performed in large rooms in royal palaces, not in theatres, and we know in many cases who performed them, but we are guessing what they sounded like.

So, if we know that the spaces were smaller, and the number of performers used were smaller, it stands to reason that the techniques which enable those things to happen would not have been used. There was no need for them, so those they had not been developed. So, the high level of harmonic overtones would not have been used, with their piercing abilities, and probably the vibrato that comes along. We don't know for sure, but it seems a valid conclusion.

We also know that there were vastly fewer singers of high ability. Only limited numbers of singers would have been formally trained, and travel was not something that happened for many, so knowledge was not passed around quickly. But, at the same time, there is no reason to assume singers had not learnt about controlling breath flow via the abs and diaphragm, rather than trying to sing from the throat, as it were. 

So, we could assume, most singers who sang in early performances, like those given by Monteverdi at Mantua, would have been people lucky enough to have a naturally pleasing sound to their voice who were musical and thus gained employment, or else trained for performing in local church choirs. The idea of someone training to get their "ah" sound just so, like happens today, would not have happened. 

So, knowing that, we could guess the singers were pleasant sounding, but not highly resonant voices, probably with only light vibrato (or none), who were loud enough to be heard over a small band of instruments that most likely required regular breaks to retune. And sang in a room that held less than 100 people. A far cry from pretty much any modern production. 

So, now that you have that overview, simplistic as it is, its time to start looking at the performance I heard.

 So first of all, I need to set the scene a little. As I said earlier L'Orfeo was written by Monteverdi to be performed in the palace of the Dukes of Mantua, the Gonzaga family (Im sure you have heard of them). The audience probably totalled about 100 people. For this performance we were in the City Recital Hall, at Angel Place, a modern 1200 seating concert hall. We had seats in the front row, at the middle of the top balcony, so an excellent view and good sound, in a venue vastly larger than what Monteverdi had envisioned for his first true opera (and the oldest opera that we still have the score of)

When Monteverdi wrote L'Orfeo, he specified the instruments he wanted, and when he wanted them, but unlike modern operas (or even some of his later ones) he did not specify what he wanted to play what notes. This was common in the music of the era, to not set out the exact scoring, but rather the music and let the performers improvise around the music given. He specifies that he did wanted the players to perform with accuracy and taste, clearly indicating that he wanted the singers to be to the forefront, after all, their music is set out clearly. As a result, no 2 performances of Orfeo (even allowing for the different versions of the score that Monteverdi wrote) will ever be the same.

He also gave the singers in some cases two versions of their music, an ornamented aria, and a plain version of that same aria, to make it clear, where he wanted them to ornament and improvise, and where not to. He also made it clear that some performers should be expected to double up on roles, singing say La Musica and Eurydice, or similar. Bearing in mind there are 11 named characters, and a significant number of other solo performers who are not listed by name, this totally makes sense. In the production we saw every named soloist got a costume for his named role. If doing a solo as say a nymph or shepherd, they were in the costume of that. So, all up we had 13 singers, most of whom doubled as chorus when not soloing. Accompanying them was an orchestra of 23 performers on period instruments, several swapping between instruments as was traditional when first performed.

So, yes, as described earlier, we are in very much in the "authentic performance" style for this production. Although, as I mentioned, this venue is much larger than would have been contemplated for performing in by Monteverdi. Other things that will help to set the scene in this production. All the performers were dressed very much in modern dress, that in various ways reflected the nature of their role. I am not sure that white pants, shirts and waistcoats are appropriate for shepherds in the fields, but it did make then clearly not the infernal spirits they became later (in all black, with sunglasses) The singers themselves have a walkway behind the strings and harpsichords, with a big area out the front of the orchestra as well, in which to perform. There was no sets however, but the performers all acted out their roles fully, bringing to life the emotions of the characters of the story.

Our first performer we meet is La Musica to sing the introduction to the story and set the scene for what is about to happen. Sara Macliver was both La Musica and Eurydice, and she sang with her bright high soprano, clearly trying to reduce the resonance in her voice to bring it to an appropriate authentic sound. While she did not cut the vibrato out, it did become something that was only allowed to happen on occasion, and her voice was definitely missing some of the full sound it can have. Having said that, Sara does tend to sing a lot of baroque music, so clearly she is comfortable doing this, and she sang both roles with aplomb, her high bright sound only a little less bright than normal. She also never once sounded less than at ease and in charge of her music, making it her own.

As Orfeo (and the only singer to not double a role,) Markus Brutscher was new to me. He brings a big voice to this role, and inhabits it with considerable histrionic ability. He sang like I would expect an early music voice to sound, with reduced resonance and no vibrato, and with a substantial variation in sound through the range of his voice. It was not how I would choose to cast this role, but his is an impressive voice, and left me curious how he would sound in some of the big roles in say Verdi or Wagner. Would he be able to work his technique to sing in a true bel canto style still? If so, I would love to hear it, but as Orfeo, his voice left me wishing for more beauty and sweetness. This is after all a man who was supposed to be able to charm gods, men and beasts with the beauty of his music, yet I was left impressed but not in love with the sound. Yes, that could just be me, but as I said earlier, it is also partly a matter of taste. Having said that, it was an impressive performance, in a role that dominates this opera, much as say Siegfried does in the opera of the same name.

As the Messenger and Persephone, Fiona Campbell brought her big voice in to good use. As the Messenger, her voice did literally bring the music to a standstill as she revealed the bad news. This was a perfect piece of casting. Have a big voice come in that can cut across the celebratory mood and kill it with a blast of emotion as you bring bad news. Unfortunately, as an authentic performer, Fiona is less successful. Yes, she has a fabulous big voice, that is rich and full of emotion. But, her efforts to reduce her vibrato and reduce the resonance were less successful. Most of the time the vibrato was achieved and there was less sound coming out than she can bring, but it did tend to create a slight hootiness to her sound, and the straight tones also showed up some pitch waywardness on occasion. It was not often, but I noticed it, when I have never heard such from her before. It was certainly not enough to detract from what was a great performance, but I did notice it, which surprised me.

As both Plutone and Caronte, Wolf Matthias Friedrich brought a big dark bass sound to the roles. His was a more traditional voice, resonant and strong, but troubled in the lower notes for Caronte, leaving me to suspect that this role was just a touch too low for him. I did not notice this happening as Plutone. He brought distinct characterisations to each, which considering they were in scenes that followed each other, was quite impressive.

Other voices I need to comment on as great were obviously Tobias Cole as La Speranza (Hope) bringing a clear countertenor sound to what was sung at the original by a castrato, and Richard Butler, who as frequently the only bass singing in the ensemble had seemed to often be completely lost amongst the other voices, yet when he got his chance to shine as a soloist, proved he had a bass voice of considerable power and beauty, so I could only assume he had been told to keep the sound down in the ensemble scenes as a musical decision by Paul Dyer, the Musical Director.

Robert Macfarlane was impressive in his solo moments too. He brought a traditional bel canto tenor sound to his roles. Having said that, he brought a great deal of musical sensitivity with him, and I certainly expect to hear big things from him in the future, as he is clearly a young singer, with a big future.

Likewise Morgan Pearse impressed as Apollo, who as the god of music and also the father of Orfeo in this story, who brought the action to a close. His bright baritone seemed more than a little out of place, as he sang with a traditional bel canto style, full of resonance and vibrato. However, there was no disputing that having the two gods with the most resonant voices (Apollo and Plutone) would work as a casting device and also as a dramatic one, although, considering that, why not Orfeo as well, seeing as his voice is supposed to be supreme?

 From the non vocal standpoint, the orchestra were great. All playing period instruments (or facsimiles), there was very little of the dreaded "period intonation" and a great sense of ensemble. Paul Dyer directed from the harpsichord (and organ), but the level of rehearsal and comfort was such that he rarely bothered to conduct his players, mostly just indicating his pleasure, or indicating specific stylistic touches he wanted.

So, what else to say? Well, artistically, this was an impressive production. Not a production to my taste, maybe, but a good performance of a work that is of great historic significance to music in general and opera specifically. It was given a performance that allowed it to speak to those who attended. And yes, I was pleased to go, and I can see the appeal behind it. It is also not something I would rush out to see again, simply because much of the music did not grab me as appealing. I admit it, I am more a fan of the big bold and spectacular, and I happily admit it. But, I also have to say, the chance to go see one of the seminal works of an artform I love was not something I could walk away from, and I did enjoy it. I just did not enjoy it the way I could have enjoyed, say Aida or Meistersinger. That in itself is not a criticism, just a reflection of taste.

I enjoyed a work not to my taste, and had plenty to think about and enjoy from the memory. I think that in itself, speaks volumes about the musical strength of what we heard.