CMM recital of British folk songs ‘bloody good’

Baritone Jimi James trades his opera costume for a tux and delivers a handsome program of songs by British composers

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com

Many in attendance at Civic Morning Musicals’ Live! At the Everson recital Sunday afternoon did a double-take when baritone Jimi James walked onto the Everson Museum of Art’s Hosmer Auditorium stage dressed in evening attire. After all, they’re hardly used to seeing the local opera hero out of costume (he was dressed in feathers and propped up on stilts when I saw him last).

James, a late substitution for the venerable but ailing tenor, Marcus Haddock, is a favorite among Syracuse opera-goers, having performed major roles in several Syracuse Opera productions over the past two decades (including Papageno in Mozart’s The Magic Flute). Although James may not have the international following of Haddock, his reputation for consistently solid singing, strong vocal delivery and dependability has earned him a dedicated following that reaches far beyond the boundaries of Central New York.

For this occasion, James traded arias for art song. And while somewhat lacking in the dramatic delivery skills we have come to expect from seasoned veterans of the art song genre, James nevertheless captured a good deal of the shifting moods evoked by the poems. Moreover, his vocal prowess – with its deep, resonant baritone tinted with just the right amount of vibrato, excellent diction, great attention to dynamics and solid projection – was beyond reproach.

The program opened with seven songs by John Ireland, the conservative British composer whose musical language combines English lyricism with touches of Impressionism. There is a pervasive introspective quality that runs through Ireland’s writing which is at once evident in the opening song, The Vagabond, with its stately hymn-like air, and again in the pensive and meditative Spring Sorrow. The most poignant song, at least for me, is Sea Fever – a strophic setting of a poem, taken from British poet John Masefield’s Salt-Water Ballads, whose simple chordal accompaniment figures proved an excellent vehicle for James to display his deep timbral colors. James was strong in voice during the opening of the lively Hope the Hornblower, with its syncopated piano accompaniment (alertly executed by Ida Trebicka), although he appeared to tire on the high-note passages about halfway through the song.

The first-half of the program closed with two very engaging songs of Charles Villiers Stanford, from the Anglo-Irish composer’s Songs of the Sea (on poems by Henry Newbolt). James gave a strong and confident delivery of Drake’s Drum, and unlike some of the preceding songs of John Ireland, James’ high register was on solid footing, as was Trebicka’s relentless dotted-rhythm ostinato accompaniment. Trebicka was also solid on her snappy 16th-note accompaniment figures in Devon, O Devon – which James delivered with a hearty, booming baritone that at times appeared to reach ear-splitting decibel levels.

Following intermission, James and Trebicka teamed up for a compelling rendition of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Songs of Travel, a cycle of nine songs based upon poems of Robert Louis Stevenson. It was these songs that signaled the composer’s entry into genre of British folk-song settings.

In a manner similar to the meditative style of John Ireland, Let Beauty Awake evokes a strong sense of lyricism with touches of English Impressionism, a technique that returns two songs later in Vaughan Williams’ delicate and dreamy mood-piece, Youth and Love. With its wide tessitura, the poignant Whither Must I Wander proved an especially effective showpiece for James to display his command of tone and dynamic contrasts throughout the low, middle and high registers.

When it comes to art song, at least, a singer is only as good as his/her accompanist – and you may credit half the success of Sunday’s handsome program to Trebicka’s attentive ensemble-work and sensitive touch. Balance between singer and pianist throughout the performance was outstanding – from the soft whispers to the thunderous fortissimos. I was especially impressed with Trebicka’s command of rhythmic nuance, such as in the duplet-triplet couplets of Vaughan Williams’ Youth and Love.

I hope CMM will consider including in its printed programs the words to the songs, and the names of the poets, in future vocal recital programs. This practice not only places the songs into proper literary context and historical perspective, but also affords the listener a measure by which to gauge the composer’s handling of text-music relationships.

What: Civic Morning Musicals Live! At the Everson recital series
When: Jan. 31, 2010
Who: Jimi James, baritone and Ida Trebicka, piano
Time: 1 hour and 15 minutes, including intermission
Where: Hosmer Auditorium, Everson Museum of Art, Syracuse
Tickets: $15, students free. Tickets may be purchased at the door
Next: Steven Heyman, pianist, 2 p.m. April 18
Website: www.civicmorningmusicals.org

[Editor’s note: CNY Café Momus is pleased to have this rare opportunity to provide two reviews of the same (Jan. 9) performance of the Met’s Der Rosenkavalier, one of the HD simulcast by David Abrams (preceding this review) and the present one by David Rubin, who attended the performance at Lincoln Center]

When all the elements of an opera performance come together, it’s an art form that’s hard to beat for thrills and chills.

So it was at the Saturday, January 9 performance of Richard Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier at the Met, which was broadcast live worldwide on radio and telecast into movie theaters. This must have created the largest audience to have ever seen Rosenkavalier live.

The benchmark for this audience has now been set very high. They knew they had seen something special, reacting in the house with red roses for Renée Fleming as the Marschallin and a shower of confetti for the entire cast and conductor. (It was exciting to see the roses and confetti return from an exile decreed a few years ago.)

With Susan Graham as Octavian and Fleming as the Marschallin, audience members knew from the start that they were in experienced hands. Graham owns this part. While she is getting a bit old to play a love-struck, frisky 17-year old, she still moves like a colt and sings ardently, with assurance. She was as convincing as the servant girl Mariandel as she was in the role of the noble Octavian.

Fleming is a beautiful woman, but now old enough to make us believers when she laments to her hairdresser in Act I that, despite his best efforts, he has made her look old. She is, indeed, beginning to fade, although it’s hard to imagine that there won’t be other lovers in her life once Octavian has moved on to Sophie. She and Graham blend meltingly in Acts I and III, although Graham is a bit stronger of voice and better able to ride the Strauss orchestra.

The third key player in this drama is the Baron Ochs. The part was assumed by Kristinn Sigmundsson, a bass from Iceland who is an experienced Wagnerian. Sigmundsson more than held his own with the more celebrated Graham and Fleming. He is a mountain of a man, at least six-feet five-inches. He towers over his colleagues. Perhaps this is why he portrayed an Ochs with more menace than humor. He will be a great Boris in the Martti Talvela tradition. Sigmundsson had the low notes for his boozy intonation of the famous waltz tune at the end of Act II. Similar to Graham, he had no trouble projecting over the orchestra.

It would not be accurate to say that Christine Schäfer’s Sophie was a weak link, but she was not at the level of her colleagues. She is not quite young enough, vulnerable enough, or radiant enough for the part. The voice is pleasant, but not memorable. Compared to others who have sung this part in the house (Kathleen Battle, Judith Blegen, Reri Grist), Schäfer was a bit pale.

Supporting roles were well cast, including the virile Italian tenor of Eric Cutler, and Wendy White and Rodell Rosell as the oily conspirators Annina and Valzacchi. In the small role of the Police Commissary, who tries to sort out the confusion in Act III at the inn, Jeremy Galyon showed enough to signal that he is a young singer to watch.

The pressure on Dutch conductor Edo de Waart must have been great, given the size of the audience watching him worldwide. He did not disappoint – and it was a pleasure not to hear James Levine leading this opera for a change. Tempos were well judged. When lingering was required for the duos and trios of the ladies, de Waart obliged. When the music had to move along, as in Octavian’s speedy departure from the Marschallin’s bedroom, de Waart pressed ahead. He teased out the overlapping lines in the introduction to Act III and made them all clear. He was considerate of his singers, and he had the Met orchestra playing well.

Those of us who grew up with Rosenkavalier at the Met know only this sublime production from Nathaniel Merrill and Robert O’Hearn that dates from 1969. The production has aged beautifully over 40 years, the Marschallin’s sumptuous bedroom still a creamy yellow, and Faninal’s McMansion townhouse still a glass spectacle (used by the Met for fundraising dinners).

Only the Act III inn didn’t work well, perhaps because the lighting was too bright so as to accommodate the video cameras. All the mystery was bled out of the scene by the lighting. But it was very helpful to the audience for the players to have "rehearsed" the hoax on Ochs for the audience during the Act III orchestral prelude. This made a rather confusing muddle of a plot much clearer.

The cast at the premier of this Merrill-O’Hearn production included Leonie Rysanek, Christa Ludwig, Reri Grist, and Walter Berry, with Karl Böhm conducting. Great as that cast was, this was its equal. In sum, this was a

Saturday afternoon that produced goose bumps from beginning to end. It was a four and a half hour show – not nearly long enough.

What: Richard Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier, Live at Lincoln Center
When: January 9, 2010
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Time: 4 hours and 35 minutes hours, including 2 intermissions
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Cast: Susan Graham, Renée Fleming, Kristinn Sigmundsson, Christine Schäfer, Eric Cutler, Thomas Allen; Edo de Waart conductor
Next simulcast: Bizet’s Carmen, January 16, 2010 at 1:00 pm

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com

"What a drag it is getting old," reads the opening line of The Rolling Stones’ 1965 hit, Mother’s Little Helper – a sentiment echoed, with greater subtlety perhaps, by the Marschallin in Der Rosenkavalier. But Saturday’s Metropolitan Opera performance of the Strauss masterpiece – led by a handsome pair of singer-actresses who, at 50 years of age, not only sang beautifully but also captured so convincingly the demeanor and personae of much younger characters – suggests that in show biz, at least, it’s possible to age without growing old (…just ask Mick Jagger and Keith Richards).

Set in mid-18th century Vienna, Der Rosenkavalier (1911) centers upon a love triangle that comprises an aging Austrian princess (the Marschallin, played by Renée Fleming), her resolute 17-year old lover (Count Octavian, played by Susan Graham), and the eventual object of Octavian’s affections, Sophie (Christine Schäfer) – the 15-year old daughter of the wealthy merchant, Faninal (Thomas Allen). Setting aside for the moment any moral and/or legal issues as defined by 21st-century sensibilities, the real force behind librettist Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s drama is the Marschallin’s coming to grips with, and ultimately yielding to, the inevitable passing of youth.

At 40 years of age, Nathaniel Merrill’s 1969 Metropolitan Opera production of this Strauss masterpiece is, like Fleming and Graham, still going strong. It is well to remember, however, that Der Rosenkavalier is ultimately a character-driven opera that relies less on theatrical elements than good old-fashioned synergistic interplay of its principal characters – and therein lay the strength of the current Met production.

Until the climactic third-act trio, the main characters are delineated principally in pairs: the Marschallin and Octavian (Act I); Octavian and Sophie (Act II); the Marschallin and – figuratively speaking – Father Time (Monologue, Act I). The strength of the current production is unquestionably the interplay between Fleming and Graham, which during the entire first act and last half of the third act was frequently breathtaking and, by operatic standards, about as real as it gets.

Fleming and Graham have known each other since winning the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions and have worked together countless times since. It shows. Their frolicking in bed in the Marschallin’s boudoir, as the curtain rises at sunrise, appeared natural, instinctive and genuine.

Graham’s demeanor in the trouser-role of young Octavian, including her gait, posture and boyish expressions, was remarkable for its believability and spontaneity. I can’t say I look forward to watching a middle-aged woman playing the role of a teenage boy, but I come prepared in such cases to suspend credibility as a necessary price for enjoying the overall performance. The six-foot tall Graham, using her imposing stature and some very convincing masculine mannerisms and gesticulations – such as her good-humored punches (as Mariandel) at the Baron during the supper scene – made it unnecessary for the audience to suspend belief. Some five or ten minutes into the performance I was willing to buy the premise: She is he, and a young "he" at that. Period.

Like her acting, Graham’s mezzo-soprano was beyond reproach. Her voice was strong throughout the performance, and sufficiently malleable to capture the many personalities she portrayed – from faithful lover in the first act (Wie du warst!), to coyish maid and finally to aristocratic nobleman, as he prepares to begin his life anew with Sophie.

Fleming’s Marschallin crafted a three-dimensional character whose wide range of emotions and personal torment reached extraordinary depths of expression. Fleming completely immersed herself into the part during the first-act monologue (Heut oder morgen), where she tells Octavian that sooner or later (today or tomorrow) he will leave her for a younger woman, and later sheds the cloak of invincibility to reveal a very human and vulnerable woman.  After she tells Octavian "now be good and go," tears begin to streak down her face (visible only, perhaps, to those watching the opera via simulcast?). Fleming’s exquisite and flexible lyric soprano displayed a kaleidoscopic range of color and shades of expression – including the softest pianissimos whose phrase endings seemed to melt away into the ether.

Kristinn Sigmundsson proved a perfect fit for the arrogant high-and-mighty aristocratic lecher, Baron Ochs (pronounced "Ox," a fitting play on words by Hofmannsthal). The Icelandic bass’s tall, burly character – the drama’s principal source of comic relief – captured the listener's attention as soon as he entered the stage, and once there it was difficult to look elsewhere. I loved Sigmundsson’s commanding lyric basso profondo, which was in great form Saturday, from its deep pedal tones that descended to low E at the end of Act II to his solid high register. Sigmundsson played up the lecherous behavior to its limits during the amusing dinner scene in Act III, but never lost sight of his character’s place in this opera: that of an incurable, but loveable, oaf. Of all the characters, Sigmundsson’s German diction was the clearest, crispest, and most comprehensible.

As the innocent young heiress, Sophie, Christine Schäfer proved a credible teenager caught in a power struggle over which she has no control. The German soprano has an attractive lyric soprano, and her solid high register and good blend of vocal timbre was put to good use in the third-act final trio and subsequent duet with Graham. Still, Schäfer’s facial expressions were rather one-dimensional throughout the performance, particularly during the signature presentation of the rose scene in Act II, and she maintained an aloofness that suggested that the young soprano was willing to throw her body, but not her heart, into this performance.

Robert O'Hearn's spacious and opulent period sets, particularly Faninal’s breathtaking palatial estate in Act II (curiously labeled a "town house" in the projected English translation), looked attractive (at times stunning) and left ample room for Stage Director Robin Guarino to engage her characters in some light slapstick.

O’Hearn also designed the costumes, which are faithful (if not entirely stunning) replicas of mid-18th century aristocratic elegance, such as may be seen on the set of a period-production of Mozart’s Le Nozze di Figaro – only with a twist. Using a technique that recalls the pervasive reappearances of the color red in Stanley Kubrick’s 1999 neo-noir film, Eyes Wide Shut, the color lavender permeates this production as ubiquitously as Strauss’s leitmotifs (character-themes). We first see in this production the ornate lavender trimming on the front of Octavian’s formal aristocratic attire when he presents the silver rose to Sophie in Act II. The lavender motif then reappears on the spectacular dress donned by the Marschallin during the final trio of Act III, and again on Faninal’s robe at the end of the opera. Lavender also becomes a central focus of the production’s lighting scheme, particularly during the final act.

Guarino’s visual effects were generally well-timed and alertly executed, such as during the quickly paced and visually appealing pantomime at the opening of Act III, as the characters prepare to frame the hapless Baron Ochs. Still, the visual cacophony of running children and scurrying servants eventually began to grate on my nerves. Much more effective was Guarino’s first-act choreography of the characters in the Marschallin’s antechamber – a curious consortium of musicians, servants and guests who vie against each other to gain the princess’s attention and curry her favor. Among the hopefuls is the nameless Italian tenor (Eric Cutler), who delivered his enchanting bel canto aria with poise, self-assurance and an irresistible lyric tenor that was so appealing I became angry when Baron Ochs abruptly cut him off mid-phrase.

One small role that deserved recognition is the part of police commissioner, played by baritone Jeremy Galyon, whose commanding baritone and assertive stage presence suggests a promising career.

What: Richard Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier, Simulcast Live in HD
When: January 9, 2010
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Time: 4 hours and 35 minutes hours, including 2 intermissions
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Cast: Susan Graham, Renée Fleming, Kristinn Sigmundsson, Christine Schäfer, Eric Cutler, Thomas Allen; Edo de Waart conductor
Next simulcast: Bizet’s Carmen, January 16, 2010 at 1:00 pm

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com

Much of Offenbach’s Les Contes d’Hoffmann ("Tales of Hoffmann") remains shrouded in a fog of uncertainty. The same can be said, perhaps, of E.T.A. Hoffmann’s bizarre tales upon which the opera is based. In this new Metropolitan Opera production, Director Bartlett Sher takes a cue from Stanley Kubrick and keeps the ambiguities intact, leaving it to the observer to connect the dots. When Sher’s psychoanalytical journey into Hoffmann’s unconscious came to a conclusion, I felt certain about one thing only: Imaginative staging, superior singing and convincing acting add up to good theater – and even better opera.

Les Contes d’Hoffmann was left unfinished at the composer’s death in 1881, and while Offenbach assigned the task of completing the musical score to his colleague Ernest Guiraud, he left no further instructions concerning any aspect of the work that would prove useful to posterity. With no definitive version of the score (we can’t even be sure of the composer’s preference for the order of the acts), any attempt to reconcile Offenbach’s presumed wishes in a modern production is bound to offend someone, somewhere.

Scholars and purists aside, it’s difficult to find bones to pick with James Levine’s current revisions to the (now-discredited) Oeser edition of Offenbach’s score. And while the amalgam of several musical sources in this four-hour production might benefit from a haircut, or at least a trimming, Levine’s newfangled adaptation allows the dramatic action to unfold at an agreeable pace while rekindling arguments about Offenbach’s rightful place among 19th-century French opera composers.

Save for the Prologue and Epilogue, the plot of Les Contes d’Hoffmann unfolds as a chain of three flashbacks by the principal character, Hoffmann – a distracted (if not altogether reluctant) poet whose bizarre tales of love and woe center on the celebrated opera singer, Stella, with whom he is obsessed. It’s not clear whether Hoffmann’s eager audience of waiters and students at Luther’s Tavern, where the tales are being recounted, realizes that the female characters in each of Hoffmann’s three stories/fantasies are different manifestations of the diva, Stella.

Sher, a Tony Award winner whose initiation into the milieu of opera began with a highly acclaimed Met production three years ago of Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia, went out on a limb with this production – which blurs the border between art and entertainment as it intertwines elements of both cabaret and opera. Sher’s production team focuses upon the subliminal aspects of the three tales through a visual potpourri of seemingly non sequitur backdrops that includes Kafka-esque images of 1920s Germany and a Fellini-inspired image of 18th-century Venice seething in decadence.

Joseph Calleja, as the über-romantic protagonist smitten by the immutable forces of love, Hoffmann, forges a convincing persona as the troubled artist yanked from his typewriter (in Sher’s production) by Cupid’s arrow, then set upon a tortuous journey that leads to anguish and humiliation at every turn. The Maltese tenor, who under the scrutiny of the Met’s HD Simulcast camerawork looks like a young Orson Welles, comes off appropriately stubborn, determined and pigheaded.

Calleja’s acting was consistently strong throughout the performance, and his handsome and meaty lyric tenor was immediately attractive to the ear, thanks to his sensitivity of delivery and attention to nuances of phrasing. While Calleja’s quick vibrato during the Prologue’s Drinking Song (Il ètait une fois à la cour d’Eisenach) occasionally muddied his diction in the higher register early on, his vocal quality shifted into a more relaxed gear as the performance unfolded. By the dramatic Second Act duet with Anna Netrebko, Calleja’s tessitura was almost completely homogeneous.

As the persona behind the opera’s four villainous roles, bass-baritone Alan Held looked and acted the part of Hoffmann’s nemesis, with commanding stage presence and an imposing bass-baritone. Held’s satanic gaze as he flaunts the diamond ring in the third-act scene with Giulietta (Scintille, diamante) – which viewers of the HD broadcast experienced to an extent perhaps unmatched by the crowd at Lincoln Center – lent a chilling touch of credibility to his character’s veil of arrogance and omnipotence.

To say that Kathleen Kim a living doll is just stating the obvious. Having lucked into the role of Olympia after Anna Netrebko reneged on an earlier agreement to sing all four roles of Hoffmann’s paramours (as Offenbach had preferred), Kim fashioned the role of crazed inventor Spalanzani’s mechanical amusement from visual to aural perfection. The petite coloratura soprano won the crowd over with her dexterous miming of the doll’s herky-jerky motions, then dazzled the listener’s sensibilities with her note-perfect delivery of the Doll Song (Les oiseaux dans la charmille), as she navigated the treacherous vocal arpeggiations (which several times reached a high E-flat) with agility, ease of delivery – and smack on-pitch. In a nice touch during the hearty applause that followed, Kim remained completely in-character, using cogs and wheels to fashion a series of gracious bows.

In both voice and manner of stage presence, Anna Netrebko’s melancholic portrayal of the frail Antonia in Act II was among the highpoints of the performance. Netrebko’s voice continues to darken in timbre, and her rich soprano is flexible enough to navigate through a wide variety of expressive dynamic shifts and phrasings, such as during her scene-opening Elle a fui, tourterelle. Ironically, the weighty mellowness of Netrebko’s voice created an unwelcome contrast in her duet with the Calleja, whose vocal character is not at all well-suited to hers.

As Hoffmann’s protective Muse, the ubiquitous Kate Lindsey made an attractive sidekick to Calleja as the poet’s friend, Nicklausse. Lindsey, whose handsome mezzo-soprano appeared curiously muted in the Prologue and throughout the First Act, gathered steam and finally blossomed by her Act II C’est l’amour vainqueur, when she urges Hoffmann to acknowledge that artistic love trumps romantic love.

Lindsey’s character, which may be considered the glue that binds all three acts (five, including Prologue and Epilogue) together, is arguably the most difficult of this production to grasp: She is a protector (Muse), a friend and companion (Nicklausse), an instigator, and perhaps even a romantic rival to Stella for Hoffmann’s affections. Either way, Lindsey achieved a solid stage presence, and I invariably found myself anticipating her next entrance.

Ekaterina Gubanova fashioned a credible Giulietta, Venice’s leading courtesan and narcissistic temptress who steals Hoffmann’s shadow (soul). Gubanova’s dramatic mezzo-soprano in her fiery duet with Calleja (Si ta presénce m’est ravie) in Act III was thick and mellow, but in spite of its pleasant quality her vocal delivery was often too dense for the listener to decipher her words. In spite of an exquisite late 18th-century period gown designed by Catherine Zuber, Gubanova had a rather difficult task competing for the audience’s attention against Sher’s scantily clad supernumeraries, their legs protruding high into the air in-step with the audacious choreography of Dou Dou Huang.

As the opera’s comic relief during an otherwise somber scene with the dying Antonia, Alan Oke, as the servant Frantz, provided a healthy and welcome dose of levity as he informs the audience that only by singing and dancing is he able to tolerate the humiliating tasks given him by Antonia’s father, Crespel. Oke played three other minor roles, as well: Stella’s servant, Andrès; Spalanzani’s servant, Cochenille; and Pitichinaccio, one of Giulietta many admirers.

Catherine Zuber’s period suits enhanced the early 20th-century vision of Sher’s Germany, and her odd mix of fantasy and 18th-century Venetian period-gowns in Giulietta’s scene provided a faithful complement to the cabaret-like imagery of the action onstage.

Dou Dou Huang’s pseudo-erotic choreography of the "showgirls" (their thongs and pasties toned-down considerably for Saturday’s "family-friendly" broadcast version) enhanced the Venetian party-like atmosphere of Act III, and his delightful choreography of the mechanical dolls in the First Act proved a treat to the eyes as well as the ears. Lighting Designer James Ingalls’ morphing shades of violet and mauve in Act II reached deeply into Netrebko’s character as Antonia, heightening the tragic heroine’s gloomy shades at the gates of death.

Michael Yeargan’s versatile sets smartly mirrored Hoffmann’s fantasy-ridden storytelling, from the lean (if not emaciated) surroundings of Antonia’s gloomy home to the festive atmosphere of the tavern scenes.

James Levine, who returned to the podium earlier this month following back surgery, led an alert Metropolitan Opera Orchestra that appeared eager to please him. Tempos generally sparkled with effervescent lightness of French opéra comique, yet proved sufficiently malleable to capture the poignancy, color and substance of Antonia’s scene in Act II. I was especially impressed with the violin obbligato and concertante wind passages in Nicklausse’s aria in that same act.

The men’s chorus of waiters and eager students soared in-time to the quick pace of the Prologue’s celebrated drinking song (Drig! drig! drig!), and were strong in voice as Spalanzani’s house guests at the conclusion of Act I.

Details Box:
What: Offenbach’s Les Contes d’Hoffmann, Simulcast Live in HD
When: December 19, 2009
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Time: 4 hours, including 2 intermissions
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Cast: Joseph Calleja, Anna Netrebko, Ekaterina Gubanova, Kathleen Kim, Alan Held, Alan Oke, Kate Lindsey; James Levine conductor
Next simulcast: Richard Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier, January 9, 2010 at 1:00 pm

SSO musicians LeDoux and Kim ‘set the bar high’ in CMM season opener

Three-work chamber music program ties in handsomely with Everson Museum’s ‘Turner to Cézanne’ exhibit

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com

Civic Morning Musicals kicked off its Live! At the Everson series in impressive fashion Tuesday evening, sponsoring a recital by two prominent members of the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra that provided an appreciative audience yet another reminder of the depth of talent within its own backyard.

David LeDoux is principal cellist of the Syracuse Symphony Orchestra and an active chamber music performer in Central New York. I heard LeDoux’s performance with violinist Jeremy Mastrangelo of the Brahms Double Concerto with the SSO last season, and wrote in my Syracuse Post-Standard review that "LeDoux is a rock-solid performer, demonstrating a secure command of his instrument and handling the tricky high register and double-stop passages with grace and élan."

Pianist Daniel Kim is one of the gifted few who make the rest of us embarrassed to publish our resumes. An accomplished orchestral violinist and pianist, the current SSO keyboardist somehow found sufficient time outside the practice room to complete three degrees at Harvard – including a PhD in experimental high-energy physics.

Of course, you don’t need a doctorate in physics to recognize that in music, at least, the whole is often greater than the sum of its parts: That’s what we call good chamber music playing. And Tuesday’s synergistic collaboration between LeDoux and Kim suggest that this is one axiom that will stand the test of time.

The program opened with the Poulenc Cello Sonata, a neo-classical potpourri of contrasting movements whose shifting moods resemble more of a suite or divertimento than a serious sonata.

The tuneful first-movement Allegro spins out melodic lines spiced with a Lydian (raised fourth scale-degree) modal flavor, which is then followed by a Marcia that parodies the motor-rhythmic drive of Prokofiev. LeDoux’s playing here demonstrated a firm command of pitch that extended into the high-register passages, although his sound could not compete with the Everson Museum’s nine-foot Steinway Grand whose lid was raised in fully-upright position.

Kim adjusted his touch (albeit not, regrettably, the piano lid) in the rich, chordal passages of the second movement Cavatine – which lifts a good portion of its thematic materials from the composer’s own Sextet for Piano and Winds, written some 16 years earlier. LeDoux delivered Poulenc’s rich and expressive phrases with passion and sensitivity, and was complemented by Kim’s evenly spaced voicings in the rich chordal section accompaniment.

The third movement Ballabile is Poulenc at his best – easy-listening parlor music, designed purely to entertain. I especially enjoyed Kim’s bouncy, effervescent touch – which was suitably playful and carefree. The fourth-movement finale begins loudly with a wild tarantella-like dance, and then sadly loses steam – as if the composer had plum run out of ideas (a problem not at all uncommon with Poulenc).

Debussy’s Violin Sonata in G Minor (transcribed here for cello) opens with a lush, harmonically rich Allegro vivo that draws the listener into the musical experience, but the composer cannot maintain that same level of imagination in the two succeeding movements. Whatever one may think of the work’s relative merits, however, it’s difficult to recommend an arrangement that offers no improvement over the original version for violin. Moreover, the frequent unidiomatic passages in the cello’s altissimo register during the first two movements sound out of character within the scope of Debussy’s compositional style. Still, the rapid passagework in the cello during the Finale led to some rather exciting moments, as LeDoux navigated the tricky demands of the movement with confidence and ease of delivery.

The highlight of the evening’s fare was Stravinsky’s Suite Italienne, an arrangement by the composer (with the help of cellist Gregor Piatigorsky) of his neo-classical ballet, Pulcinella. This was, to be sure, the most melodic work on the program – although it should be pointed out that the melodies in this work owe more to Pergolesi than Stravinsky. And unlike the prior two works on the program, which are essentially pieces for cello with piano accompaniment, this five-movement suite is designed as a true duo, with an equality of parts.

The second movement Serenata, like the Cavatine movement of the Poulenc Sonata, afforded LeDoux ample opportunity to demonstrate his command of phrasing, as he delivered the expressive melodic lines with warmth and a clear sense of direction. The wild, foot-tapping Tarantella gave Kim a chance to showcase his formidable fingerwork, and he managed to squeeze every ornament and embellishment into his demanding part during this exciting, take-no-prisoners tempo.

The Suite’s Finale brought an end not only to an exciting piece of music, but also to a well-prepared and skillfully executed recital performance by two outstanding musicians who have set the bar high for all future CMM events.

What: Civic Morning Musicals Live! At the Everson recital series
When: November 10, 2009
Who: David LeDoux, cello, and Daniel Kim, piano
Time: 1 hour and 20 minutes, including intermission
Where: Hosmer Auditorium, Everson Museum of Art, Syracuse
Tickets: $15, students free. Tickets may be purchased at the door
Website: www.civicmorningmusicals.org
Next concert: Marcus Haddock, tenor, and Kathleen Weaverling Haddock, piano:
Sunday, Jan. 31, 2010 at 2 P.M., Everson Museum of Art, Syracuse

Spectacular sets, elaborate staging outshine singing in Met’s ‘Turandot’

HD Simulcast allows unparalleled view of Zeffirelli’s extravagant production, but can singers compete?

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com

In the end, it was neither love nor the flames of passion that defrosted the Ice Princess, Turandot – it was Franco Zeffirelli’s hot, opulent sets and glorious pageantry.

Not that any one’s complaining, mind you. The Met’s over-the-top production, which is rumored to have cost $1.5 million when this extravaganza first opened in 1987, must be seen to be believed. And if seeing is believing, those watching the live HD simulcast Nov. 7 had a pronounced advantage over their counterparts at Lincoln Center, journeying along with the cameras through every nook and cranny of Zeffirelli’s massive, imposing scenic design.

Of course, Puccini’s vision of ancient Peking is more than just palaces, pavilions and imposing staircases. Stage Director David Kneuss must have had a magic wand to coordinate in such orderly fashion the heavy traffic of the more than 200 chorus members and supernumeraries (imperial guards, priests, mandarins and townspeople) during the opening scene, from their bloody cry for execution (Muoia! Noi vogliamo il carnefice) to the macabre anticipation of the Prince of Persia’s slaughter as they watch the executioner sharpen his sword (Arrota! Che la lama guizzi). Give credit also to Chiang Ching, whose "choreography" of the crowd scenes (mostly stylized movement, actually) and synchronized waving of flags and bandanas provided a stunning complement to the considerable pomp and pageantry of Zeffirelli’s sets.

When the smoke cleared, and the initial high from the overwhelming staging and scenery began to wane, listeners began to realize that this is, after all, opera – with acting and singing. Removed from the sizeable distractions of the production, the singing was quite good. But even here, the two principal roles were overshadowed by the lesser role of the slave girl, Liù, sung magnificently by Russian-born soprano, Marina Poplavskaya.

It’s always a joy to watch singers who can also act, and the close-up camera work panning Poplavskaya’s face during her poignant first-act refrain, Signore, ascolta, only reinforced the obvious: Poplavskaya is not only a gifted lyric soprano, but also a convincing actress.

Singing in tender, softly shaped phrases, Poplavskaya makes a compelling case for Calàf to stop the madness and abandon his plan to risk his neck for the Princess, and her manner of delivery is faithfully mirrored in her eyes, mouth, and brows (the camera doesn’t lie!). When Poplavskaya tells Turandot in Act III that the Princess, too, will experience the meaning of love (Tu che di gel sei cinta), I was convinced and quite moved.

As Calàf, Marcello Giordani produced some of the most pleasant – but also some of the most frustrating – singing of the afternoon. Giordani’s vocal timbre is somewhat of an amalgam combining the lightness of a lyric tenor with the more powerful shades of a dramatic (helden) tenor. But while he demonstrated power to spare in the high notes (he opted for the high C during the celebrated "riddles scene" with Guleghina), Giordani oftentimes loses control of pitch, which tends to sail sharp when he belts out the top tones (as much as a half-step sharp, such as at the end of Act I). Giordani’s signature third-act aria, Nessun dorma, while strong in voice, was also sharp in the high notes, and his phrasings were choppy – as if saving himself for the penultimate note, a high B (which he abandoned much sooner than did the orchestra).

As an actor, Giordani’s stage presence is stiff and forced, and when he’s not singing he appears detached from the dramatic action. When Liù importunes him to abandon his quest for the hand of Turandot (Signiore, ascolta), Giordani can do little more than stand before her like a statue.

Returning to the stage after canceling several earlier performances due to illness, Maria Guleghina exuded a commanding (if not intimidating) presence as the misanthropic Ice Princess, Turandot. In a clever touch of staging smarts, Turandot’s fearsome image is projected through an open window of the Palace several times during the first-act, producing a frightful effect reminiscent of the ominous stare of Big Brother in Orwell’s "1984."

From the low register to her high Gs, Guleghina’s dramatic soprano is exquisite – a rich and thick vocal timbre that mirrors the larger-than-life character she portrays. Still, the lingering effects of her recent sinus infection were evident several times during the performance, such as in her delivery of the three riddles in Act II where she struggled to maintain pitch during the sustained high notes, and especially during the relentless high-register passages in Act III, which were consistently flat.

Guleghina’s acting throughout the performance was quite good, and while I would have preferred that she exaggerate her character’s venomous hatred of men when challenging her would-be lover (In questa reggai), hers was a credible, if not memorable, Turandot. When the stoic anti-heroine finally thaws in Act III, Guleghina’s transformation from a would-be goddess to vulnerable mortal was believable, and – for a silly fairytale – quite moving.

Veteran bass-baritone Samuel Ramey, who this past April celebrated his 25th-anniversary with the Met, forged a sympathetic character as the proud but downtrodden Timur, exiled King of Tartary and father of Calàf. Ramey’s vibrato however continues to widen, which distorted his vocal delivery to the point where, by the third-act, I began to wonder whether Bert Lahr was actually doing the singing.

With the advantage of some irresistible sets and clever staging, the not-so-minor roles of Ping, Pang and Pong (Joshua Hopkins, Tony Stevenson and Eduardo Valdes, respectively) sparkled during the opening scene of Act II, as the colorfully outfitted trio speculated on whether they would be preparing a wedding or a funeral (Poichè il funesto gong).

The colorful costumes, designed by Anna Anni and Dada Saligeri, provided a vibrant complement to the dizzying opulence of Zeffirelli’s sets. Especially lovely were the yellow and gold ceremonial robes of the servants and mandarins that mirrored the color of the Imperial Palace during Act II, Scene Two. And let’s not forget Turandot’s headdress – a pearl-studded, chandelier-shaped contraption that would make a Las Vegas showgirl envious. Lighting Director Gil Wechsler convincingly captured both the look and mood of the ancient Peking’s setting sun and rising moon.

The Met Orchestra, under the direction of the young Latvian conductor, Andris Nelsons, was in top form throughout this complex and demanding score, Puccini’s last. The third-act of Turandot contains the composer’s most brilliant writing for brass, and here the Met’s brass section shined – both onstage and off.

Except for a few ensemble problems that occasionally placed them out-of-sync with the orchestra, the Met Chorus sang well throughout the performance, particularly as they chanted the Imperial Hymn, Ai tuoi piedi ci prostriamo, at the end of Act II. I would nonetheless be much obliged if the chorus master were to prune those few women choristers whose thick, uncontrollable vibratos detract from an otherwise pleasant listening experience.

Details Box:
What: Puccini’s Turandot, Simulcast Live in HD
When: November 7, 2009
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Time: 3 hours 21 minutes, including 2 intermissions
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Cast: Maria Guleghina, Marina Poplavskaya, Marcello Giordani, Samuel Ramey
Next simulcast: Offenbach’s Les Contes d’Hoffmann, December 19, 2009 at 1:00 pm

Considering the span of years separating the members of the New York Chamber Soloists, which stretches from twenty-something to eighty years-old, I was anxious to see how the exuberance of youth might complement the wisdom and experience of the group’s senior members at Saturday’s Syracuse Friends of Chamber Music program.

Turns out, I’ll have to wait until the ensemble learns the pieces it programmed for this performance.

Founded by oboist Melvin Kaplan in 1952, New York Chamber Soloists is an intergenerational group of 12 instrumentalists that maintains an eclectic repertory, including some two-dozen works written especially for them by a variety of distinguished contemporary composers. But neither reputation nor longevity is any substitute for concert preparation, as Saturday’s disappointing and artistically unfulfilling performance suggests.

The program opened with a spiritless and stylistically inappropriate delivery of Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik Serenade, which like all the composer’s serenades and divertimenti were intended purely for easy-listening, light-hearted entertainment.

The principal problem with this performance lay in the thickly articulated phrasings and effusive gestures of first-violinist Harumi Rhodes, whose manner of interpretation would have been better-suited to Mozart’s more serious chamber quartets and quintets than the composer’s more frivolous serenades, which call for lightness of character and ease of execution.

There were several ensemble problems as well, such as the in the unison 16th-note passages during the Romanza which came off wobbly, as players rushed ahead of Rhodes’ steady beat. Moreover, the tempo chosen for the Menuetto was too fast, yielding more of a scherzo feel to this allegretto movement than a straightforward minuet. Things finally came together in the effervescent final movement, buoyed by Rhodes’ well-executed trills and turns, as the ensemble produced a bubbly and spirited Rondo that – at last – captured the party-like ambiance for which this piece was intended. In addition to Rhodes, the ensemble of five instruments included violinist Curtis Macomber, violist Ynez Lynch, cellist Adam Grabois and bassist Tomoya Aomori.

Prokofiev’s Quintet in G Minor (Op. 39) for oboe (Melvin Kaplan); clarinet (Allen Blustine); violin (Macomber); viola and bass is a work dating from 1924 that the composer designed to accompany a ballet about circus life. The unusual instrumentation of the work is due to the instrumentalists available to Prokofiev for the touring group (Trapez) that accompanied the ballet.

Each movement of the Quintet appears to parody some element of a circus, such as the second movement’s bass solo which, to me, suggests a pair of elephants dancing. Removed from its original context complementing the visual aspects of the ballet, however, there’s precious little musical substance in this neo-classical parody to sustain listener interest throughout its six-movements – which I consider a second-rate amalgam of Poulenc and Stravinsky. Even a good performance of this work, such as that enjoyed by the Skaneateles Festival audience this past August, does little more than place lipstick on the proverbial pig. And Saturday’s rendition can hardly be called a good performance.

In spite of best efforts of violinist Macomber (who was consistently first-rate throughout the evening), the five players found neither sufficient balance of volume nor blend of timbre to allow them to gel as a unified ensemble. Missing, too, in this performance was Prokofiev’s characteristic motor-rhythmic drive and finely honed ensemble interplay.

The oboe playing, in particular, was shaky – from the weak projection and labored playing in the first (variations) movement to the breathing problems in the painfully slow and lengthy Adagio pesante (a chops-killing movement where the oboe must sustain lengthy pitches in the instrument’s low register seemingly forever). Such a movement would be taxing even to a young player with considerable endurance and lung capacity, not to mention the now 80-year-old oboist. The one saving grace to this performance was Macomber’s snappy execution and firm rhythmic command in the pervasive 16th-note figures during the motor-rhythmic passages in this work.

Considering the two works of lighter fare that preceded it, I was especially hungry for the one work of deep substance on the program: the somber Quintet in B Minor for Clarinet and Strings of Johannes Brahms that New York Chamber Soloists served up after intermission. Turns out, this dish needed more time to cook before serving it to the crowd.

The Brahms Quintet, like Schubert’s C Major Cello Quintet, is a major component of (and one of the crowning achievements to) the chamber music repertory, one capable of taking the listener on a lengthy and fulfilling journey whose cathartic climax leaves the audience as cleansed, fulfilled (and exhausted) as the players onstage. Saturday’s performance of this warhorse was a major disappointment that left me unfulfilled and disillusioned – not to mention hungrier than ever.

The weight of this work, like most multi-movement chamber and symphonic works, is in its first movement. From the opening three measures it was apparent that this performance wasn’t ready for prime-time, as the violist couldn’t handle the precisely syncopated accompaniment figures to the violins’ on-the-beat phrases, throwing off the cellist in the process. When this same motif returned at the very end of the movement, the violist’s syncopated figures unraveled completely – destroying the sense of conclusion and fulfillment to this weighty movement.

Although Brahms clearly indicates a repeat of the first-movement exposition, the players ignored the return to the opening measure and proceeded on to the development section, as if content to shave some time off the performance at the expense of balancing out the classical sonata form favored by the composer. My guess is that the disgruntled spirit of Brahms then leveled a curse upon the ensemble: How else might you explain their bungling of the imitative three-note motif soon after the start of the development section? Those who don’t believe in paranormal experiences may prefer to conclude that the ensemble was insufficiently rehearsed for a piece that requires an extraordinary level ensemble preparation, precision of execution and balance of sonority.

The rest of the opening movement fell into place but the playing remained overly cautious, as if the players were content to avoid catastrophe rather than shape a meaningful interpretation to the work. The poignant slow movement, whose accompaniment figures pit syncopated patterns against triplets, was shaky and uneven, while poorly placed breaths in the clarinet part interrupted several of the prolonged melodic lines. Brahms’ sprightly third movement was marred by poor execution on the part of the violist and timid playing on the part of the cellist, while the fourth (variations) movement produced straightforward and uninspired playing in the lower strings.

In spite of some breathing problems in the slow movement, clarinetist Blustine was well-prepared for this performance, playing with smooth and even finger-work and producing a pleasant tone that, although lacking in dynamic contrasts, nevertheless provided a lovely timbral contrast to that of the strings. Violinists Macomber and Rhodes were beyond reproach throughout the four movements, but could do little to draw the two lower string instruments into one cohesive and synergistic musical ensemble.


Details box
What: New York Chamber Soloists
Where: Lincoln Middle School, 1613 James Street, Syracuse
When: November 7, 2009
Time: 1 hour and 50 minutes
Information: call (315) 446-3424
Ticket prices: Regular $25, Senior $15, Student $10
Website: syracusefriendsofchambermusic.org 
Next: Concertante, Dec. 5, 2009

Oct. 24 Met simulcast: Ancient Egypt conquers Ethiopia, modern cameras defeat singers in ‘Aïda’

Principals sing beautifully but acting crumbles under the scrutiny of close-up camera angles

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com

The Ethiopians weren’t the only ones to go down during the October 24 Metropolitan Opera HD Live Simulcast of Aïda Saturday – a few actors joined the carnage as well.

As high-tech cameras panned in on the (mostly unsuspecting) faces of principal singers, an audience completely invisible to them scrutinized every facial expression, lip movement and sweaty forehead. Spanning some 1,000 theaters across 42 countries, this phantom audience heard the same exquisite singing as their counterparts at Lincoln Center, but saw much more of the action, perhaps even an exaggerated view of the action, from Dolora Zajick’s deadpan expression (and mouth that opened only barely as she sang), to Johan Botha’s turgid stage presence and bizarre gaze that resembled a deer in the headlights.

What works for the Metropolitan Opera House crowd doesn’t necessarily work for the HD cameras. The brave new world forged by Peter Gelb with these HD simulcasts has changed the rules, and there’s no turning back: Singers must learn to act to the cameras as well as to the listeners sitting in front of them.

Violeta Urmana gets it. Her three-dimensional Aïda, buoyed by supple body movement and details of expression from face-to-toes, fashioned a heroine who appeared in-character when viewed from any angle and screen-size. Urmana’s muscular soprano, which strained early-on in the high register when pushed during her first-act signature aria, Ritorna vincitor, grew increasingly more flexible as the performance unfolded, reaching its zenith in the poignant O patria mia of Act III. Her command of pitch and dynamics in the tenderly phrased duet of resignation (Presago il core) during the final entombment scene with Botha, particularly in the high register, was sublime.

The only other acting that could withstand such scrutiny came from Carlo Guelfi as Amonasro, Aïda’s father (and disguised King of Ethiopia), whose commanding stage presence and daunting baritone generated sufficient poise and charisma to produce an image of royalty that belied the pauper’s clothes. Guelfi’s fanatical expression in Act III, when beseeching Aidä to choose revenge over love, is something I wish the Met audience could have seen up-close.

Until the final act, Dolora Zajick – as the Egyptian King’s jealous daughter, Amneris – brought little life or dimension into a role she had performed some 250 times earlier (the drama I experienced was limited to trying to reconcile her beauty of tone with a mouth that barely opens wide enough to shape her vowels). The celebrated mezzo-soprano came alive however in Act IV, and rather convincingly, when she grasped the reality of the death sentence imposed on her would-be-lover, Radamès (Ohimè, morir mi sento). I suspect that Zajick’s expressionless face was not so much an issue with the live Met audience as it was to those privy to the camera-work, but it sure dampened my spirits. Still, her voice remains in fine form and, at some 60 years of age, shows little signs of surrender to the march of time.

As an actor, Johan Botha’s Radamès was no more convincing than Zajick. Botha’s movement across the stage was stodgy and inflexible (I much preferred to watch the props), and his facial expressions appeared detached from the dramatic action unfolding before him. The singing was not disappointing, and although Botha’s voice tended to push and sacrifice some degree of flexibility early on in the first-act Celeste Aïda, his dramatic tenor held firm throughout the performance, at times soaring high above the orchestra. Especially impressive was the end of Botha’s final duet, in octaves, with Urmana (O terra, addio).

Of course, there’s more to grand opera than acting and singing. Extravaganzas such as Aidä are largely about spectacle, and there was much to love in this grandiose revival of the original 1988 production by Sonja Frisell – with monster sets designed by Gianni Quaranta depicting eye-busting visions such as the colossal palace of the Egyptian King at Memphis that may have topped anything done by Cecil B. DeMille.

Dada Saligeri’s handsome period costumes for the priests, soldiers, prisoners, slaves (and yes, horses) captured the essence of ancient Egypt, although occasionally evoking some unfortunate comparisons to contemporary culture (I could have sworn I saw the High Priest Ramfis – or someone dressed exactly like him – in several episodes of Star Trek, and the penguin-shaped hat sported by the Egyptian King during Act II looked like a gold-plated bowling pin).

Due to the many dance episodes endemic to grand opera, Aïda is as much an aural spectacle as it is visual. The Met Orchestra, under the direction of Daniele Gatti (substituting for the ailing James Levine), was in magnificent form throughout the performance, from the somber pianissimo opening entrance of Aïda’s theme in the violins to the brassy fanfares announcing victory over the Ethiopians during Act II. A number of strikingly beautiful and well-executed solo and concertante wind passages in Act III complemented the heroine’s mournful O patria mia.

Alexei Ratmansky’s choreography of the dance numbers during Act II was visually appealing, save for the anachronistic pas de deux at the opening of the act that seemed to be rooted more in Disneyland than Ancient Egypt. The overhead camera work on the larger dance scenes recalled the glory days of Busby Berkeley.

A well-prepared Met Chorus, under the watchful eye of Donald Palumbo, was right-on with its dotted-rhythms in the Act I Su! Del Nilo al sacro lido! during the Egyptian King’s call to battle, and all but took the house down in its glorious Gloria all’ Egitto in Act II. Especially impressive were the chorus’ whisper-soft a capella passages, although it must be said that the offstage parts tended to sag well below the pitch dictated by the orchestra – a problem that also plagued the offstage priestess chant (Possente Phtha!) at the end of Act I.

Sadly, there were no elephants in this production. Considering the expense of the lavish sets and human resources, the Met’s dollar will stretch only so far – and elephants don’t work for peanuts…

Details Box:
What: Verdi’s Aïda, Simulcast Live in HD
When: October 24, 2009
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Time: 4 hours, including 2 intermissions
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Cast: Violeta Urmana, Dolora Zajick, Johan Botha, Carlo Guelfi
Next simulcast: Puccini’s Turandot. 1 P.M. Saturday, Nov. 7

Elizabethan-era program of English music proves ‘fit for a queen’

Soprano Laura Heimes and viol consort deliver delightful mix of airs and dances from the court of Elizabeth I

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com

‘Tosca’ up-close and personal: HD Simulcast yields greater vision, insight into controversial production

Simulcast live in HD, new production of ‘Tosca’ looks better than myopic media reviews suggest

October 3 Emerson Quartet: Shostakovich awakens ‘Emerson Quartet’ during SFCM performance

Celebrated ensemble appears largely uninspired until final work on program

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com

It’s unlikely that anyone would have mistaken the angst-ridden Dmitri Shostakovich, even on one of the composer’s better days, for Prince Charming. Still, it took a kiss from the 20th-century Soviet icon to awaken ‘Sleeping Beauty’ – The Emerson Quartet – at Saturday evening’s 60th-Anniversary season opening concert of the Syracuse Friends of Chamber Music.

What a pity that Mendelssohn and Beethoven, who preceded Shostakovich on Saturday’s program, weren’t better kissers.

The Emerson Quartet, whose concert Saturday marked its seventh appearance in Syracuse, needs little introduction. Now in its 32nd year, the venerable ensemble is among the most recognized names in chamber music, with eight Grammy Awards and three Gramophone Awards to its credit and no fewer than 30 recordings (Deutsche Grammophon label) over the past dozen years alone. It is well to remember, however, that the quartet’s current (2009-2010) schedule takes the four around the globe in a grueling, 90-concert tour. And let’s face it – they ain’t getting any younger.

The problem with the first-half of Saturday’s concert was hardly a lack of familiarity with the works programmed (Emerson recorded the complete quartet cycles of each composer here), but rather a lack of inspiration and spontaneity of execution. Certainly, the notes were all there – but rarely did they blossom into meaningful phrases. Dynamic shifts were politely observed but did not string together to produce an intensity of expression capable of untethering the notes from the printed page. Mendelssohn’s melodic direction and Beethoven’s motivic development were often understated and, ultimately, predictable.

Mendelssohn’s String Quartet No. 1 in E-Flat major, Op. 12, which opened the program, is a charming work that channels the composer’s fascination with the harmonic innovations of Beethoven into clearly defined parameters of Viennese classicism. As such, it may be argued that much of the Emerson Quartet’s reserved delivery in this work may be stylistically justified as clinging to Mendelssohn’s classical roots.

Eugene Drucker, who played first violin on the opening two works on the program, did not appear to be in his usual good form. Drucker’s delivery appeared somewhat aloof in the sweet, aria-like entrance to the third (Andante espressivo) movement, as if he deemed the indication "espressivo" superfluous. Moreover, in this movement and the celebrated Canzonetta movement that preceded it, Drucker experienced some slight but conspicuous pitch problems that suggested he may have been tired that evening. Ensemble delivery among the four players in this work was inconsistent: good on the 16th-note passages in the Trio of the Canzonetta and in the four-note motif of the final movement, but imprecise and unsteady in the familiar eighth-note passages of the Canzonetta.

Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 10 in E-Flat Major, Op. 74 ("The Harp") fared somewhat better than the Mendelssohn Quartet, particularly with respect to ensemble delivery during the imitative sections and 16th-note passage-work of the exposition of the first-movement Allegro and in the tight motivic interplay preceding the recapitulation. The inner movements of the Beethoven Quartet were, however, disappointing. The playing of the dreamy second (Adagio) movement lacked warmth and intensity, as if the four were contemplating Beethoven’s philosophical discourse without the benefit of pausing for reflection. The furious Presto (Scherzo) movement that followed was rushed, a victim of sloppy rhythmic execution of the pervasive dotted-rhythms.

If there’s an advantage to the Emerson Quartet’s custom of standing (except, of course, for the cellist) while playing, it was not apparent from the results of Saturday’s performance. Ensemble interplay among the four players did not seem to benefit from this arrangement, nor did eye-contact and body language, which may have fared better had the musicians remained on a level periphery.

What: Emerson String Quartet
Where: Lincoln Middle School, 1613 James Street, Syracuse
When: October 3, 2009
Time: 1 hour and 50 minutes
Information: call (315) 446-3424
Ticket prices: Regular $25, Senior $15, Student $10
Website: syracusefriendsofchambermusic.org 
Next: New York Chamber Soloists, Nov. 7 at 8 P.M.

September 13 NYS Baroque: Period-instrument ensemble engages both mind and ear

Ithaca based NYS Baroque Ensemble shines in season-opening Syracuse concert

By David Abrams
http://cnycafemomus.com