Vocal and Choral

Richard Strauss - Die Liebe der Danae
Manuela Uhl; Mark Delavan; Matthias Klink; Thomas Blondelle; Burkhard Ulrich; Deutsche Oper Berlin; Andrew Litton
ArtHaus Musik 101 580

Strauss’ last opera had a difficult birth and even more difficult “childhood.” Written in the midst of WWII, at the imminent collapse of Germany, Strauss wouldn’t allow this seemingly frivolous “joyful mythology”  to be performed during the war, but kept nursing it to his bosom, procrastinating until he died in 1949.  It finally reached the stage for the first time in 1952 at the Salzburg festival. One wonders why Strauss wrote such a “frivolous comedy” at the end of his career. Perhaps because it is not a frivolous comedy at all!

The God Jupiter who created everything, even man’s “free will” that becomes his undoing, falls in love with the beautiful Danae and employs clever manipulations such as assuming the false identity of Midas to win her with gold and using the real young, handsome Midas as go-between. He unwittingly lets Danae fall in love with Midas out of her own free will which he, the God, is unable to control. Jupiter with enormous sadness has to renounce his love and disappear from the scene. This is the tragedy of an old man, like Strauss himself who is similarly leaving the scene, saying farewell to his love, his life, his art and the world.

Die Liebe der Danae is a beautiful, very eventful and musically rich opera that reaches sublime heights in its last scene (Strauss was always good at endings), the music soars and soars and when it finally reaches ff, leaves the audience silent in awe of its heavenly power. This production by Deutsche Oper, presented on two DVDs, makes us feel exactly that. Stunningly realized with sets of gold and azure, directed with know-how and dignity by Kirsten Harms, conducted by great Straussian Andrew Litton, the title role is sung by Manuela Uhl, who is as good a singer as she is ravishingly beautiful, paired with tenor Matthias Klink (Midas) singing with “emotional radiance.” The real hero however is the baritone, Mark Delavan (Jupiter) with his tremendous pathos, sensitivity and of course power, the power of a God.

Bach – Matthäus-Passion
Im; Fink; Gura; Lehtipuu; Weisser; Wolff; RIAS Kammerchor; Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin; René Jacobs
Harmonia Mundi HMC 802156.58

Half a century ago there were two kinds of performances of Bach’s Passions: those that used large forces and modern symphony orchestras and those that used smaller forces as well as period instruments and baroque performance practices. Now the former kind have all but disappeared. There is, however, a great deal of variety in historically informed performances. In 1981 Joshua Rifkin proposed that there was no chorus in the modern sense in Bach’s sacred music and that choruses and chorales were sung by the soloists, one to a part. Initially that proposal was greeted with derision but over the years it has gained a great deal of acceptance.

A 2008 recording of the Matthew Passion that comes close to what Rifkin proposed is that of the Dunedin Consort and Players, conducted by John Butt (Linn Records CKD 313). In that performance the Evangelist is the tenor of the first Choir and the Christus is the bass. The singers of the arias also sing in the choral sections. Butt needed a few extra singers for the smaller parts and for the sopranos who sing the cantus firmus in the opening chorus. That gives us 12 as the total number of singers.

By contrast, Jacobs proposes that the larger of the two choirs sing at the west end and the smaller choir at the other end of the church. He divides the larger choir into two groups and also adds a boys’ choir. Those who sing the smaller parts also sing in the chorus but not the major soloists or (with one exception) the singers of the arias. That brings the total number of singers to 61. Instrumental forces are also larger: 37 as against 25 in the Dunedin Players. Jacobs also has a much heavier bass line because he has added two bassoons as well as a lute to the continuo.

It is clear that the new recording is on altogether a different scale than that of the Dunedin Consort. While I like the lightness of the latter performance, I would concede that (whatever the historical validity) Jacobs’ interpretation has one great advantage and that is that he can scale down his large forces when needed. The performance is very dramatic and is none the worse for that. He has very good soloists. Werner Güra (the Evangelist), Johannes Weisser (Christus) and Bernarda Fink (the alto arias) are especially fine. This is Jacobs’ first recording of the work, though he has sung the alto solos many times. But his love for the work goes back further, to the time when he sang it as a boy chorister in St. Bavo Cathedral in Ghent. It is fitting that the illustration on the box of the CDs is that of Jan van Eyck’s Adoration of the Lamb, the central portion of the altarpiece in that church.

Mozart – Don Giovanni
Skovhus; Ketelsen; Petersen; Opolais; English Voices; Freiburger Barockorchester; Louis Langrée
BelAir BAC080

It is to the credit of Mozart’s greatest opera to be able to endure many different viewpoints, from traditional to the wildest modern interpretations. I’ve even seen one that took place in the South Bronx with an all-black cast and it was marvellous. Here the Don Juan legend, or “morality tale” is from the hand of a young, very talented Russian director Dmitri Tcherniakov with a well-thought-out and imaginative concept that infuses the action, setting and characters to the last detail. That concept puts the drama in a modern setting: a drawing room of a luxurious residence of a dysfunctional family is quite immaterial. It really is all about a man trying to live above the rules of society; although he is successful for a while, he is ultimately doomed.

To achieve this, the director, who knows the score and libretto by heart and therefore is no bumbling dilettante, selected his singing actors with utmost care, mostly young with fine voices and remarkably fit to live up to his strenuous physical, emotional demands. The dissolute Don, Danish baritone Bo Skovhus is a larger-than-life presence, alternatively charming, elegant, seductive, insolent, despondent or manic, you name it, although the superhuman demands do take their toll and his powerful voice is sometimes off pitch. The three women representing three social classes andof different ages, are all memorable, each with their own issues, but common in one respect: their uncontrollable, conscious or subliminal attraction to the Don. I was most impressed by the ingenue, exceptional Swedish soprano Kerstin Avemo, giving a simply unforgettable, many-layered emotional, heartbreakingly empathetic portrayal of Zerlina.

Under the enthusiastic, firm musical leadership of French conductor Louis Langrée driving his virtuoso period instrument orchestra with verve and brisk tempi, the show moves along seamlessly and it’s refreshing like the Provence air.

Rossini –  Ciro in Babilonia
Podleś; Pratt; Spyres; Palazzi; Orchestra and Chorus Teatro Comunale di Bologna; Will Crutchfield
Opus Arte OA1108D

Around 1810 Rossini ran away from home as a teenager to try his luck in Venice, where he met and fell in love with a great operatic diva of the time, Maria Marcolini. This very fruitful relationship bore many successful operas written with Marcolini’s wonderful contralto coloratura in mind. Unfortunately the biblical epic Ciro in Babilonia, Rossini’s take on Belshazzar’s feast, was a fiasco according to the composer and duly forgotten over the next century. Posterity, however didn’t agree with Rossini’s modesty and the opera was revived recently in the USA at the Caramoor Festival under the auspices of Rossini scholar Will Crutchfield, who also conducted. So successful was the revival that it was soon transferred to Rossini Mecca, the Pesaro Festival where this video was filmed.

Fortunately today we have the voices capable of singing the extremely difficult lead roles. Polish contralto phenomenon, Ewa Podleśis the ideal choice for the lead, Ciro, King of Persia, the longest contralto role in opera history. No less impressive is the virtuoso soprano, American Jessica Pratt who cuts a magnificent figure with vocal acrobatics to match as Almira, his imprisoned wife. Another American is the powerful, virtuoso tenor Michael Spyres as the villainous Baldassare, the wicked ruler of Babylon who gets his just desserts prophesied by “the writing on the wall.”

The most wonderful quality of this performance is the projected scenery that conjures up in a matter of seconds vast deserts, beautiful palaces, grand ceremonial spaces or a dungeon built stone by stone in front of our eyes. After witnessing Bill Viola’s wonderful Tristan videography, this production is a step in the right direction using up-to-date cinematic technology as a way to the future.

Mahler – Das Lied von der Erde
Sarah Connolly; Toby Spence; London Philharmonic Orchestra; Yannick Nézet-Séguin
London Philharmonic LPO-0073

This live performance recorded on February 19, 2011 in London is a welcome addition to the extensive discography of outstanding performances of Mahler’s autumnal song cycle, The Song of the Earth. The six movements of the work alternate between tenor and contralto roles, though the latter is sometimes sung by a baritone. The phenomenal English tenor Toby Spence is blessed with a voice of steel, with a bright, ringing tone equal to the challenge of cutting through the massive orchestration of the opening “Drinking Song of Earth’s Misery.” His lusty tone is also equally suited to the mood of “The Drunkard in Spring.” Only the intervening “Of Youth” movement left me a bit disappointed; I would have appreciated more tonal shading in this more reflective music. Nonetheless a voice this powerful in such a taxing role has rarely been heard of late. Mezzo-soprano Sarah Connolly maintains these high standards with her beautiful, even sound. The finely shaded intimacy she brings to “Autumn Loneliness” contrasts nicely with her sly account in “Of Beauty,” amazingly well enunciated at such a blistering tempo. The great challenge of the closing “Farewell” is artfully conveyed by her extensive vocal shadings, falling just short of the sublime in the final fading moments.

Yannick Nézet-Séguin ensures every detail of the score is heard yet beautifully balanced and brings a very Mahlerian plasticity of tempo to the work without falling into excess. The sound is closely miked yet spacious with minimal audience interference. Highly recommended.

Francis Poulenc – Intégrales des mélodies pour voix et piano
Pascale Beaudin; Julie Fuchs;
Hélène Guilmette; Julie Boulianne;
Marc Boucher; François Le Roux;
Olivier Godin
ATMA ADC2 2688 (5 CDs)

In his booklet notes for this collection of Poulenc’s mélodies and chansons, baritone François Le Roux describes Poulenc’s music as “a mixture of melancholy and joie de vivre, of solemnity and fun.” As the Canadian Opera Company’s stunning production of Dialogues of the Carmelites last season made clear, Poulenc’s music is not to be taken lightly. Underlying even his most playful works — and there are plenty of those here–is a deeply felt reflectiveness. That’s precisely what the musicians involved in this recording convey so well, and what makes this collection so enjoyable.

Poulenc always claimed that it was the poets whose words he was setting that directly shaped his music. With so many poets involved, it’s no wonder there is such variety in these 170 songs. There are three songs which have never been recorded, some rarities, including a few songs that Poulenc dropped from Le bestiare, and a song cycle for chamber orchestra accompaniment, Quatre poèmes de Max Jacob, that pianist Olivier Godin has transcribed for piano. But what sets this recording apart is that it is the first complete collection of the songs for voice and piano to feature francophone musicians, four from Canada and two from France. This turns out to be revelatory. It’s not just because they all sound so natural and idiomatic. The enunciation of each singer is so clear and unmannered that you can make out every word.

Poulenc loved the music of Maurice Chevalier, and with Les chemins de l’amour he steps into Chevalier’s music hall. He conjures up a delectable waltz for Anouilh’s bittersweet ode to paths not taken. Soprano Pascale Beaudin uses a wonderfully nuanced palette of colours to create a jaunty mood and, at the same time, bring out the undercurrents of longing and regret.

Soprano Julie Fuchs balances the shifting moods of a robust ballad with the touching innocence of a prayer in “La Petite Servante,” one of the Cinq poèmes de Max Jacob. Vocalise shows how expressive Poulenc can be without any text at all, especially with soprano Hélène Guilmette imaginatively fashioning a tragicomic scenario of operatic proportions. Mezzo Julie Boulianne deftly contrasts the despair of Montparnasse, Poulenc’s wartime ode to Paris’ once-vibrant artists’ quarter, with the wryness of Hyde Park in Deux mélodies de Guillaume Apollinaire. Baritone Marc Boucher brings moving lyricism to the nine songs of Tel jour telle nuit (Such a Day Such a Night). His voice seems to grow darker and more urgent as day turns into night in Éluard’s cycle of poems.

In his prime, François Le Roux was a peerless interpreter of art songs from his native France. Here he is no longer in his prime. His voice is brittle, underpowered and weathered around the edges. But that doesn’t affect my pleasure in his singing on this set. He’s always interesting, never bland. There’s a lifetime’s experience in the way he embraces the nostalgic mood of “Hôtel” from Apollinaire’s Banalités, his top notes resonating with tenderness. You can smell the Gauloises (unfiltered, of course) as he sings, “I don’t want to work, I want to smoke.”

Poulenc was himself a marvellous pianist, and he demands a lot from a pianist in his songs. Olivier Godin makes an especially responsive partner. His finely calibrated sense of momentum and evocative textures animate passages like the exquisite pulsing coda that ends Tel Jour Telle Nuit. Booklet notes and bios are in French and English, but the French song-texts are not, unfortunately, translated.

Jake Heggie – Moby-Dick
Morris; Costello; Smith; Lemalu; Trevigne; San Francisco Opera; Patrick Summers
EuroArts 2059658

The only lingering question about Moby-Dick as an opera is: why did it take so long to happen? The epic tale, characters and intensity of emotions — they all are perfectly operatic in scope. Deconstructing the linearity of the story was the right approach to the sprawling novel, suggested by Heggie’s collaborator Terrence McNally. (McNally, who was the librettist for Heggie’s Dead Man Walking began this project but had to back out and the libretto was completed by Gene Scheer). Paraphrasing the immortal first line of the novel as, “You may call me Ishmael ...” for the closing line was another stroke of genius. The rest relies on Heggie’s brilliant, neo-romantic score, with its delightfully unanticipated musical quotations from Poulenc and Debussy and all-male vocal score (save for the “in-trousers” role of Pip). In this production, the demonic Captain Ahab (Jay Hunter Morris) demonstrates considerable hubris early on — “I’d strike at the sun if it’d burned me.” His relentless pursuit of the whale, leading to a loss of humanity and almost complete annihilation, is set in stark relief by Starbuck (Morgan Smith), the moral centre of the opera. Stephen Costello as Greenhorn (Ishmael) imbues the music with a sense of foreboding and fear. The production values are truly spectacular — inventive use of digital projections (with a tip of the hat to our own Robert Lepage), beautiful sets and creative lighting make for an immensely watchable 140 minutes. Finally, the direction for video by Frank Zamacona is of a calibre rarely seen on operatic DVDs. All in all, Moby-Dick is a solid new entry in the standard repertoire and this production is a must-have for watching at home.