Messianic

In one of the early essays “On German Music”, Richard Wagner said, comparing the French to the Germans, that Germans “are generally more prone to fall beneath a foreign influence than is good for the preservation of a certain self-dependence.”  He continues “Somebody once said: ‘The Italian uses music for love, the French for society, but the German as science. Perhaps it would be better put: The Italian is a singer, the Frenchman a virtuoso, the German a–musician.” (found on p 85 here )

He goes on to make the link back to the Chorale & JS Bach, that the particular genius of the German national theatre –the tendencies you see both in its compositions and the singers—began in the churches.  Where there’s an extroversion you see in Italian opera, German opera is about a selfless blend as if you were encountering the same kind of skills you’d see in a Lutheran church service.

Soprano Lesley Bouza

As I sat at a weekend performance in Brantford of Handel’s Messiah I wondered about the comparable genius of Canadians.  There we were in a small town, in a church seating roughly 500 packed to the rafters for the annual reading by the Grand River Chorus & Grand River Baroque orchestra.  Richard Cunningham conducted, with four excellent soloists (Tenor Andrew Haji, Bass-baritone Andrew Tees, Counter-tenor Daniel Cabena and soprano Lesley Bouza)  in a town known more for its associations with First Nations or Wayne Gretzky than baroque music.

With the recent experience of Tafelmusik’s Messiah still resonating in my ears I feel more competent to reflect on period performance.

The numbers for Grand River Chorus (25 sopranos, 18 mezzos, 13 tenors and nine basses) are a more traditional complement, meaning that you hear emphatic soprano lines quite different from what you encounter with Tafelmusik Baroque Choir, who balance the four groups equally.  Perhaps it’s more correct that Tafelmusik rarely gives us a big sound considering that “ff” doesn’t show up in scores until many decades after Handel.

There are a set of trade-offs necessary for authentic period performance:

  • balance via numbers (a small choir in other words)
  • balance via vocal technique: singing softer, more evenly
  • balance via taste: a romantic-modern voice gets louder as you ascend the scale (which i’d argue is the natural tendency of the human voice), whereas in baroque as you ascend you stay even or even get softer

And so I don’t know that this small town reading of the Messiah necessarily shows the rigor I found at Koerner Hall.  But then again this was a semi-pro performance (amateur choir, professional soloists & orchestra).  The climaxes surrender to the old-style passions you find in the Beecham Messiah, where the maximum level is a full out fortissimo. It’s a lovely hybrid, in places authentic (indeed, Cunningham’s brave tempi were faster then what Taurins gave us earlier in the week, and Cunningham himself stepped forward as the second alto in the alto duo), in places more old-fashioned.

But it should surprise no one that in a country now producing so much great talent for the world that our small towns can be relied upon for more than hockey.

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Pollyanna’s picks for 2012

This is a look back at 2012 through the rose-coloured glasses of someone who prefers to avoid negativity.

Most impressive singer: Jane Archibald.  I’d already been persuaded by her Zerbinetta in the recent COC Ariadne, then I heard her Haydn CD which won awards in 2011 (and elicited my favourite pun of the year: see the headline) but was floored by her charisma & wit in Semele. I wonder when we’ll see her here again?  In January the COC announces their next season and alas i don’t believe she’s in anything next season, but perhaps the following year..(!)

Most interesting couple: Frida & Diego at AGO, a study of a relationship and yes, lots of art: until Jan 20th.  I wrote a lot about it and don’t feel i was anywhere near exhausting the subjects they raise:

  • feminism, sexuality & gender
  • aboriginals & colonialism
  • disability & medicine
  • workers & socialism
  • ecology
    …and i suspect there are more

Most eagerly awaited (three different events come to mind)

Most impressive performance, periodStewart Goodyear in the Beethoven Marathon.  In an old-style display of virtuosity, Goodyear made it look easy.  I don’t believe people appreciate his brilliance.  Beethoven sounds brand-new, even while being true to the score.  His scherzi are fast & light, witty & dramatic.  His slow movements are profound and probing.  His contrapuntal movements (Op 101 & 106 especially) are startlingly accurate, faster than i’d believed was possible.

Most visceral theatre:  Dark Matters, an inter-disciplinary creation on the boundaries of choreography & puppet theatre: it was very good theatre.

Closest to my heart: Early in the year I interviewed Michael Slattery, then reviewed his highly original CD “Dowland in Dublin”. It’s in my car, where i listen to it regularly and i posted a small sample a few weeks ago in response to the COC ensemble competition as a cautionary note about our mortality.

Game-changers: 

  • The Toronto opera community has become a remarkably vibrant place, full of small companies producing exciting productions.  I can’t list them all, but 2012 was an occasion for several remarkable presentations, often giving an operatic spin to works that weren’t acually opera.  THAT is what i see as game-changing:

Merry Christmas..!

Composer Louis Dufort (Photo: Diane Charland)

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Body Language

I was having a crabby episode this Friday morning.

I was running late.  It’s ridiculous to admit. I didn’t have any appointments, but I just had hoped to be downtown already, and everything about the morning seemed to add to my sense of gloom:

  • The car was in the shop.
  • And so instead I was at a bus stop.
  • A rain-snow mix was falling intermittently, quite picturesque if I hadn’t been too busy rebelling against the big flakes that kept landing on my face.  I love that sensation (usually).

I was pacing about in the general vicinity of the bus stop.  It’s such a low-traffic street that you can wander into the middle of the road without fear.  That absence of any kind of traffic usually makes it a wonderful place.  Of course when you want a bus to appear,  deadly stillness only punctuated by wind whipping through the trees does not precisely betoken the imminent arrival of a bus, nor any other Deus ex machina rescue from this winter pastorale.

I didn’t just stand at the bus stop.

I am not sure why I was pacing.  Partly it was impatience.  Partly it was because I was not alone, and so I stepped away from the bus stop to show that I didn’t really need to be there.  I’ll show you, bus, I don’t need to stand here, where there’s no bus anyway.  And then I’d saunter back to the stop and…

As I’d started walking to the stop I’d seen people coming towards it, from across the street.  We were all converging on the same spot.  They were so cheerful they were like a party, while I was solitary crabbiness personified.  They didn’t seem to care whether the bus came, because of course they were obviously having a nice time.

I think I’ve already said that their mood was more or less the opposite of mine.

They were older than me.  I should probably pick my words carefully, as they were to outward appearances chronologically of an older age; but at the same time, they were having a good time, and I wasn’t.  In some ways I was the one acting out the part of the crabby old man.

One of them had been at the bus stop already, and had greeted the other three as they crossed the road to get to him.

The other three? Two women and a man, all white or gray-haired.  The women seemed to be watching over the older man, who walked with some difficulty. The women seemed very protective of him.  They spoke in a friendly tone, while admonishing him about various sorts of things he should be careful about.

I had been silently present but not really grasping more than a tiny bit of the subtleties of their dynamics.  I think I may have been scowling.  The wind whipped the melting precipitation into my face, while the foursome had their friendly encounter on the street before me.

I suppose I was jealous, feeling left out. This may be my home neighbourhood, but i felt like an intruder.

The older man was closest to me.  Our eyes met briefly, and he said something non-committal.  He was concerned that the bit of grass upon which he stood–right beside the bus stop—had a slope, or at least that was the conversational gambit whereby he spoke to me, admittedly a scowling curmudgeon who may have been raining on their parade.  So he met my eyes and said something about worrying that he might slip.

I smiled and nodded and said good morning (or something… i can’t recall).

I looked up at the weather falling and blowing about us, probably looking like I hated it.  I think I’d made a face in response to his remarks about slipping, but come to think of it, I guess I wasn’t really sensitive to his difficulties walking, and the real possibility he could fall and seriously hurt himself.  He didn’t look very fearful, smiling and chuckling, because in response to my glance at the sky, with a bit of a grimace that was meant to be empathetic, his next comment surprised me.

“It’s so beautiful”.  True enough, even if I’d been fighting it.

He probably said something else, although I don’t remember it because I wasn’t yet fully paying attention, but still in my head, wondering when the bus would arrive.

He looked at me and made a movement with one of his arms.  He looked up, while he lifted his hand over his head, then as he looked at me, swirled his hand a bit, and said “he’s up there you know…(?)” it was half a question, but sounding very knowing.

“He lets us do what we do.  But when we wants us….(?)”  And he made an ironic face, of the futility of challenging this fundamental rule.

He finished the gesture, and then explained it.  “…we’re there.”  The hand movement was really showing us being called I suppose, but subtly, reminding me –in retrospect—of a good conductor.  His fluid motions were a bit like what I saw from Ivars Taurins Wednesday, conducting Händel’s Messiah.

I smiled back… I suppose I said something banal and weak-assed in response, but I was thinking about what he’d said.  This seemed to be a knowing voice however much of him was already re-called.

I recall him smiling, and turning back to his companions.  Shortly thereafter, the sound of a bus could be heard, and there it was; and so we got on board.  My day was now righted in every sense, as surely as if the conductor had brought me back into alignment with the rhythm of the bigger ensemble.

When I pondered our encounter later I thought of Wordsworth’s Resolution and Independence even though this was a different kind of encounter.  I suppose that in writing it down I’m trying to understand, and trying to pay it forward.

Friday turned out quite nicely.

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Apocalypso

What music accompanies the end of the world?  I suppose it depends whether you’re cowering or celebrating, sitting, dancing or running for cover.

I ask ironically, of course, because the whole Mayan thing is silly.  It’s a finite calendar, limited not because someone was attempting to make a prediction of our doom but simply because the date in question –which may be Dec 21st 2012 –was inconceivably far in the future.

Remember Y2K?

In the late 1990s there was a genuine concern because computers hadn’t been conceived with an eye to the distant future: even a date as remote as Dec 21st 2012 come to think of it.  Nope, the date of Jan. 1st 2000 was already daunting because it had a digit too many.  Was this the end? No, although it was a threat to the smooth operation of our infrastructure, the banks, utilities, and all those systems we take for granted.

I make the comparison because the arbitrariness of the new millennium, and its extra digit, were beyond the imagination of those who had come before.  I’d say it’s the same with our remote Mayan friends.

And so, as we smile, contemplating yet another end of the world scenario –smiling  because for once it’s not genuinely terrifying, unlike, say, climate change, nuclear weapons, the loss of biodiversity through the destruction of rain forests, superbugs created by the rampant use of antibiotics, to name a few—I simply wonder what might be appropriate listening?

The End of the World is nothing new, and so of course there’s always been an artistic response to the idea.  We’ve been dancing something like an Apocalypso for a very long time.  I believe it’s a kind of egomania to tie our own lives to the doom of civilization or the planet, perhaps the flip side of Utopian longings.  When we can’t picture a perfect world, we imagine that the mess we’ve made will be our downfall, rather than a mess that has good decades & bad decades.

So here are five different ways to think of The End, because there’s nothing particularly new about this idea.

1) I’ll start with something inspired by last night, spent in the company of Tafelmusik, Ivars Taurins & four soloists, performing The Messiah.  If there’s a rapture and Jesus comes back, it would affirm the sorts of things you encounter in Revelation 5:12-13

Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.
Blessing, and honour, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever.
Amen.

This is a rapturous image of the end of the world, although in this telling of the story it’s what I’d consider a happy ending: at least if you’re a Christian.  I don’t claim to be a theologian, but I understand that other religions have similar visions of eternity with a God on the throne.

2) the artist known to me forever as Prince was surely influenced by the Judaeo-Christian tradition, as much as by current events in writing 1999 which uses not just the date but the perennial fears of war.  Speaking of apocalyptic doings, this song makes me feel old, for its discoey sounds, its familiar sentiments that at their worst take us back to the happy innocence of the 1990s.  The end of the world was never so carefree as this time in a tune fully embracing our strange days (and while I may sound a tiny bit like Jim Morrison, we won’t listen to “The End”).

3) let’s get this one in right away because you knew I was going to, right?   There’s actually an opera that shows the end of the world as they knew it, namely Wagner’s Die Götterdämmerung.  I chose this performance because it does have a wonderful sense of both an ending –particularly its clever handling of the gods, since imitated in at least a couple of Ring productions, including that of Robert Lepage.  The Gods had been important in earlier operas, but here they’re reduced to the kind of status reserved for irrelevant deities, superstitions at most: symbols on poles.  Sure, the action is more than a bit difficult to follow the first time, and the longer you watch it, the wackier it gets, given that directors often go off on wild tangents when they direct the Ring cycle. 

4) REM’s end of the world, feeling fine. …did they get enough credit? i’m not sure.  Again, as with Prince, wow does this sound old and yeah, boy does it make me feel, um yes, … old.

5) Here’s a purely musical way to look at the End.  This for me is a utopian vision, via Beethoven in his Diabelli Variations.  This segment (the last quarter of the set) begins an extended exploration of C-minor, before an explosive fugal variation, as cleansing in its way as the Rhine river flooding its banks at the end of Götterdämmerung, but without any singers.  And then we have a serene final dance, as if we’re in heaven or a perfect world where Diabelli’s little dance has been reborn.

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No costume necessary

Tonight I witnessed the first of Tafelmusik’s annual presentations of Händel’s Messiah at Koerner Hall, being presented nightly until the 22nd, followed by the annual singalong Messiah on the afternoon of the 23rd at Massey Hall.

Who is that be-wigged maestro?

The four at Koerner Hall are led by Ivars Taurins, while the singalong is led by the composer himself.  Okay okay, so it’s actually Taurins, channelling Georg Frederick Händel.  Having seen the video of the singalong broadcast on Bravo (last year), I suspect that this exercise has been very good for Taurins.  I recall that Anton Kuerti once said that in playing Beethoven one must to some extent become Beethoven.  Romantic identification?  Surely.

But what I saw tonight from Taurins has me believing that Taurins has gone very deeply into character, gaining a profound understanding of who the composer is, and more importantly, what he’s really written.

He needs no costume. At times that felt like the genuine article up there, conducting his own masterpiece.

Best moment?  Again this is a person view, seen through tears that were dripping off my beard.

One of my favourite numbers is the chorus “Lift Up Your Heads”.  It’s a curious thing, a dialogue between segments of the chorus as if to explain to us in a Socratic fashion, just what we’re experiencing with God and belief.  Taken from Psalm 24, Händel takes these few words:

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors;
and the King of Glory shall come in.
Who is the King of Glory?
The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty in battle.
Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in.
Who is the King of Glory?
The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory.

Just looking at these meagre few lines,… I’m tearing up.  Here’s the good thing about a blog.  If I were in class or speaking to friends my voice would be breaking and I am sure I would elicit at least some laughter (deservedly).

I watched Taurins get a couple of inches taller conducting this.  He gave us two very distinct voices, with the chirpy women singing the first part, the questioning males, inquiring (“who is the King of Glory”?), the women answering, and so on.  It went by at a ferocious pace, which gives it tension that’s usually missing in older – style recordings.  I was ambushed by Paul McCreesh’s recording, where the dialogue is very clear indeed.  But I daresay it’s even clearer in the live performance I saw, where – I swear—Taurins seemed to be inviting his choristers to distinguish one section from the next, by singing with a different deportment (one side very clipped, the other more relaxed, for example).

Have a listen ….(!)…although i think Taurins & the Choir are even more vivid live & in person.

It needs to be said that Taurins is a choral conductor leading an orchestra.  This is a good thing even if in the (at least formerly) macho world of orchestral music, these kind of gestures or a bar-for-nothing isn’t usually done.

So what..!

Taurins seemed to treat the orchestra like another part of his chorus, with voices that just don’t happen to have any text but are still every bit as articulate & clear as what you find from the singers.  Instead of merely beating bars –which almost every conductor does—Taurins conducts phrases, sometimes several bars in one sweeping gesture, and then with an answering gesture if necessary.  If a series of words are being sung, Taurins marvellously punches out the big word in a sentence that he wants emphasized.  And surprise surprise, Tafelmusik Chamber Choir deliver exactly what he asks.

There were even places where he stood stock still, as if admiring the Christmas tree: looking adoringly at his choir, as they delivered ravishing music, adoring him right back.  The smiles I saw all over the place were genuine, unfeigned admiration.  I suppose this at least is part of the long-term experience of playing Maestro Händel: that the choir see his portrayal, and are in various ways seduced.  But of course that probably starts in rehearsal, and is a long-term and loving relationship.

I have never seen such committed conducting.  For the entire length of this large work, Taurins was dancing about the stage, not letting up for “Worthy Is the Lamb” or the closing “Amen”.

When the soloists were required to come to the fore, it was a different kind of conducting, perhaps because Taurins did not want to take any focus from his quartet:

  • Soprano Joanne Lunn
  • Mezzo-soprano Allyson McHardy
  • Tenor Aaron Sheehan
  • Bass-baritone Douglas Williams

I am unsure about the dramaturgy of the different approaches taken by this quartet, that each imply a different sort of drama: although I know that each had great moments.   I am still trying to wrap my head around the contradictions of baroque performance, which is at times a medium for display and showing off skill, at other times about deep moods & sensitivity to emotion.  Couple that with Messiah, a work that is a drama of the spirit, and one may be perplexed at some of the choices. Should one emphasize the drama, or let the text & music speak for the inner passions of the situations?  I suppose it depends on the section.

Lunn was unquestionably the most dramatic.  Her best moment I felt was in stepping forward for the recitative “Thy rebuke hath broken his heart”. What an interesting idea: that “thy” is addressed at the chorus who have indeed been rebuking Jesus.  And she seemed so deeply engaged, I was jolted in a new way by this passage, finding a whole new way of seeing it.

Of the four, I would say that Lunn’s voice is perhaps the most true to historically informed performance of Händel, often being very clear & direct, with less vibrato than any of her colleagues onstage.  Lunn’s delivery of the Christmas lines concerning the shepherds was for me the highlight of Part One, delivered with unshakeable conviction and a lovely innocence.

My one negative is perhaps me being a stickler.  Lunn was a most enthusiastic and committed soloist, often nodding her head with her lines.  This was powerful in “If God be for us, who can be against us, ” whereas the nods undermine “I know that my redeemer liveth”.   While this may be excellent acting, the problem at this moment is that an affirmation of faith should not be dramatic.  It’s an enthusiastic attempt to signify belief, but it’s not good to remind us that this is an attempt to persuade. This affirmation of faith needs to be as calm and assured as ownership or breathing itself.

McHardy faced down a tough challenge, in arguably the most difficult single number in the entire work, namely “He was despised”.  McHardy underplayed, in comparison to what Lunn was doing, a sincere calm passion in the slow “he was despised” section, a more powerful, angry delivery in the “he gave his back to the smiters” section.

The men sang beautifully, but without the conviction I saw from the women.  I am sure all four care, so forgive me if this sounds critical; but you can’t miss when the two women are singing along with the “Hallelujah chorus” (they looked so sweet, too…absorbed in the music) while the men are staring elsewhere.  It’s a little thing, but perhaps something to consider: that all four be working from the same style-sheet.  That’s one thing I had in mind when I spoke of dramaturgy, but there’s more.

For instance –to invoke a line that was satisfactory but not brilliant—I will never be content with the usual delivery of “unto which of the angels said He at any time, Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee?” …now that I have heard what Michael Schade does with this line.  No I did not see the TSO Messiah (that includes Schade), but I do have him on the Harnoncourt recording.  Schade delivers the first part as recitative, then snaps into a voice that is truly God-like in its ostentation and loving delivery.  How can I listen to this line as mere connective tissue after hearing Schade channel God?

And it was fun watching the orchestra play the “Pifa” (a pastoral symphony introducing the scene of the shepherds with their flocks), watching Allyson McHardy, after she admitted in her interview that this was the processional at her wedding.  I don’t think I’ll ever listen to that music quite the same way again.

Yes the soloists –and several instrumentalists – were stars.  But as far as I am concerned Taurins is the real star.  I’m very impressed, and now am eager to see him on the new DVD of the Messiah that’s been released recently.

Considering that the run is sold out, that’s probably your best bet.

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Beatrice Rana – Chopin and Scriabin

When you like a composition, chances are you’ll listen to a recording by a new unfamiliar artist whether or not you’ve heard any fanfare or PR.  And so, when I saw that Beatrice Rana’s debut recording with ATMA Classical was mostly devoted to Frédéric Chopin’s twenty-four Préludes Op 28, I wanted to hear.

Is it one work or twenty-four?  Although some of these preludes get performed independently, the cycle works wonderfully as a unit.  I can’t help thinking that our assumptions need to be flexible to recognize changing attitudes and approaches.

  • On the one hand, other contemporary media such as opera or symphonies can furnish hints about how such a work was received and understood in its time.  While today we perform the cycle in a whirlwind of passion without any intervening applause– comparable to the relatively taut audiences for symphonies and operas–there was a time when arias and symphonic movements earned, not just applause, but multiple encores.  I recall reading that the premiere of Berlioz’s Harolde en Italie saw both inner movements encored, one being performed a third time (although I can’t recall which).  And so it shouldn’t surprise us that a few of these little jewels are sometimes removed from their exquisite setting (the complete cycle of twenty-four) to be played discreetly on their own.
  • On the other hand recordings –particularly CDs, which are so much more flexible than LPs—encourage an entirely different relationship to text, allowing us to get to know them better than was possible in times when our only option was live performance.  Mahler only came into his own, only truly appreciated, after listeners were able to listen and re-listen to his mammoth works in the comfort of their living room.

Yes you can have it both ways. The work (or works if you prefer) seems poised between traditions.  While paying homage to previous masters, particularly JS Bach, the cumulative effect is powerful indeed.

Pianist Beatrice Rana

Who is Beatrice Rana? ATMA’s site tells us

In June 2011, Beatrice Rana, then 18, became the one of the youngest winner of a first prize at the Montreal International Music Competition. As well, she won each of that year’s special prizes. She is, said Le Devoir, “not only a pianist but, above all, an artist.

In 2012-2013, Beatrice made her debut with several orchestras, including the Orchestra Internazionale d’Italia, the Südwestdeutsche Orchester, and the Aarus Symfonieorkester in Denmark. She also performed as a guest artist with the Orchestre Symphonique de Québec, the symphony orchestras of Edmonton, Saskatoon, and Winnipeg, the Kuala Lumpur Philharmonic Orchestra, the Violons du Roy, and the Orchestre Métropolitain with Yannick Nézet-Séguin.

Though only 19 years old, Beatrice has performed in major concert series including the Tonhalle de Zurich, Montreal’s Pro Musica, the Società dei Concerti de Milan, and the Vancouver Recital Society, and at many festivals, including the Festival Berlioz de la Côte Saint-André, the La Roque d’Anthéron International Piano Festival, the Festival Radio-France de Montpellier, the Folle Journée de Nantes, the Flâneries de Reims, the Festival Busoni de Bolzano, and the Festival de Lanaudière in Quebec.

Beatrice has won numerous prizes at competitions such as the Muzio Clementi Competition, the Concours International de San Marino, and the Bang & Olufsen pianoRAMA Competition. She began studying piano when she was 4, and became a student of Benedetto Lupo at the Conservatoire Nino Rota, from wich she graduated at the precocious age of 16. She now studies in Hanover with Arie Vardi.

Rana offers a conservative reading, and I mean this in a good way.  Many of the preludes include passages that can be ambiguous when played quickly, when interpretive liberties with accents & emphases cause us to lose a sense of the work’s meter and so to change the shape of the piece.  I believe that if you start it with a particular shape, while you may bring out voices in places, play with it briefly, that the preludes should be essentially static from beginning to end.  In this sense, I prefer a straight-forward and conservative reading, whatever its pace.  This is what I believe we find in recordings by the great Chopin interpreters, such as Rubenstein, Arrau, Ohlsson and Zimerman.  I think of Chopin as a neo-classicist, not unlike Mozart & Debussy and therefore want transparency & a respect for structure in the execution, especially simple compositions such as these.

Rana is sometimes reticent, playing a prelude quietly, but each one is self-consistent, shaped with eloquence and nobility.  Before too long I relaxed into the performance, put at ease by her easy mastery of the requirements of these short pieces.

The CD also includes two other Chopin Préludes and the op 18 sonata of Scriabin.  The French spelling of this Russian composer’s name appears on the CD—a nod to the PQ Government language laws?—so be aware of this if you google it.  The easy way is simply to look for ATMA and Chopin and Rana.

The Scriabin shows us more of Rana’s fluidity, particularly with evenly shaped phrases of perpetual motion constructions.  As such it’s a good match to the Chopin Op 28, albeit somewhat more angular & chromatic.

Rana was still in her teens when the recording was made, not that you could tell from her excellent playing.  Another star is born.

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Cohorts

At one time in Ontario there used to be something called “Grade 13”, the last year of high-school before one went on to University.  My online reading tells me that, while there were a few other places where one had grade 13, most places only go up to Grade 12.  I don’t claim to know the history of such distinctions, only that educators noticed that we were different, and sought to harmonize our educational system with other nearby places such as the rest of Canada & the USA.

And so it came to pass that Grade 13 was abolished, Grade 12 becoming the last year of high-school.

Imagine the year of the change.  Those in Grade 13 would go on to university, and so too, those who were in Grade 12.  As a result, two different sets of graduates would emerge from high-school, some having matriculated from the old 5 year high-school curriculum, others emerging from a new 4 year program.  That year –when twice as many kids descended upon the universities of Canada—a phrase came into common usage in the educational sector, namely “the double cohort”, describing twice as many freshmen, then (the next year) twice as many in second year, and awhile later, a larger than usual contingent of graduate school applicants (not necessarily double, but likely bigger than normal).

It may be that some academics always called the students a cohort, but the first year I caught wind of it was in the lead-up to the year(s) that our population would be doubled.

The word “cohort” has a militaristic echo, but the metaphor is useful.  It sounded as though a huge contingent of soldiers would descend upon the unsuspecting populace, perhaps bringing up unconscious echoes of the shore-leaves seen in such films as On the Town.  After all, university students can be just like soldiers (not just in age, but in their desire for enjoyment of a drink).

It all came back to me recently as I attended a memorial celebration at the Faculty of Music, University of Toronto.

In the room people did what people usually do at parties: gather with their friends & colleagues.  This means that in different parts of the room, people would be organized by their sense of affiliation.  In an educational environment this can often mean something just like cohorts.  On one side of the room were the older grads, who had left decades ago.  In another one bunch were those who had been in the school roughly twenty years ago.  In another group in the room were the current students talking amongst themselves.

Hermann Geiger-Torel (photo from Susan Weiss)

On the wall if one cares to look, there are pictures of former mentors (both educational & professional), particularly Hermann Geiger-Torel, the one-time General Director of the Canadian Opera Company.

It struck me as I noticed the way people were socializing, that cohorts are a kind of subtext for our lives.  I’m getting older.  We all are.  Those who are my age –the ones of course that I know and who know me—represent my own cohort, and we’re aging together.

I can’t get this impression out of my head.  When I attended the COC ensemble studio auditions I was aware that the current group will eventually leave, to be replaced by a new cohort, year by year.  Watching young singers perform in groups such as Opera Five –in their recent program of one act works—I was touched by their youth even as I took in their position on the threshold of mastery and eventual greatness.  And as I tried to remember all the new names of singers  in European productions the same construct stayed with me, as if the new singers were recently students (as they surely were), and were soon to be retired (as eventually they would be).

I am listening to Barack Obama, as he addresses the congregation in the prayer meeting Sunday December 16th, saying “we know our time on this Earth is fleeting”.  I was contemplating my own fragile voice, roughed up by a bit too much fun on an exhausting Saturday night of partying, glad to be alive.  We are all flowers with a brief span, even if we’re not plucked like those whose names Obama listed in the service, not yet “called home” by God.

The talents we see onstage are fragile, mortal.  We shouldn’t need violence to notice our vulnerability, to appreciate the brevity of our time on Earth & the flowering of talent.  I am grateful for the blessing of friends & ability around me, the opportunities to enjoy our frailty in live performance.  If we were like machines –if no one ever fluffed a note or missed an entry—we’d be immortal.  Young or old, whichever cohort you might belong to, our humanity argues for our gratitude.

We are not machines.  Hallelujah.

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Nut Cracking

Life goes on.  The assertion is banal and boring in good times but a comfort the morning after a day of madness.  Parents and grand-parents suddenly recognize blessings they’d forgotten.  So what if our kids aren’t perfect (and who wants perfect anyway)?

And so, while the holiday season pales before the kind of things some people had to live through on December 14th, the calendar turns over whether we’re paying attention or not. 

One of my favourite seasonal celebrations is found in The Nutcracker, Tchaikowsky’s ballet score.  While it’s tempting to play, I try to keep it fresh for Christmas by keeping it locked away until this time of year, to make it especially magical.  I played it at a Christmas party last week, and will play some in church next week.

It was one of many texts shared with children at home.  Sometimes we’d read books together, sometimes we’d watch something on television.   Or in a theatre…!  In revisiting those familiar characters & tunes, I am quickly whisked into a warm Christmas sensibility as surely as if Jimmy Stewart, Alastair Sim and/or Darren McGavin had abducted me. 

There are lots of nuts out there, and so it’s reasonable that there would be a few versions of Nutcracker as well.  There are several audio recordings, which is an entirely different issue.  Right now I’m thinking of the ballet on video.

By a curious coincidence, the progression I experienced through my three favourite versions seems to correspond to my (or our) maturation process.  As we children get a bit older, the versions give us a bit more depth.

Version 1) was the Nutcracker I parented with, a Nutcracker originally from 1977, available in the 1980s on television and captured by me on VHS to be replayed each year, the one with Mikhail Baryshnikov (who’d also choreographed), and Gelsey Kirkland from the American Ballet Theatre.  On video everyone may look as young as Jimmy Stewart or Donna Reed, but this is already 35 years old.

In this reading Drosselmeyer is a benevolent and kind mentor figure, offering a dream to Clara, introducing her to a very careful and safe kind of sexuality.  This is a coming of age myth that’s not conflated with the messier issues in ETA Hoffmann’s original.  You see some of those conflicts in this sample.  There’s a dark tinge that the dream must end: but it’s not tragic, just sad and bittersweet.

Version 2) The Nutcracker (1986) is directed by Carroll Ballard, who also directed Never Cry Wolf & The Black Stallion.  We’re in a film world and so the art-direction (Maurice Sendak’s designs from a previous production) is in vivid colours (much better than the ABT version), captured by wonderful cinematography. Even so, this one is more than a quarter of a century old, sigh…Sendak brings his story-book sensibility, a Freudian world where children face trauma and pain, where nothing is infantilized or under-estimated.

As a result this version is messier.  Drosselmeyer is not only quirky but clearly resembles his sister (Clara’s mom), suggesting levels of incestuous desire pulling at the wholesome fabric of a tale with more depths than you can throw a shoe at.

We see a proper transformation in Clara, from child to adult. .  Maurice Sendak’s design shows his Freudian influences, from childhood to adulthood, meeting a prince on the other side (as the Nutcracker has also been transformed) in a breath-taking series of images. 

Version 3) The Hard Nut choreographed by Mark Morris seems so much newer but sigh alas alack, even this one is from twenty one years ago, in the early 1990s.  It’s edgy in so many ways.

In some ways Morris’ take is more innocent than any other version, invoking the retro wackiness of the 1960s, a world familiar to me from my childhood.  Then it surprises you, as for example in the gorgeous pas de deux between Drosselmeyer and his transformed Nutcracker prince, something i read as a narcissistic moment recognizing that coming of age is ultimately a romance with the self.  It’s unapologetic and yes stunningly beautiful.

Here’s one of my favourite scenes, a deliciously wacky take on the waltz of the flowers.  Yes those are men in tutus and isn’t it beautiful?

~~~~~

If there’s a lesson here –thinking particularly of my recent focus on opera and Regietheater—it’s in noticing how little controversy there is in the dance world.  I’ve lamented to friends that here in Toronto, the National Ballet’s annual version of this cash-cow is so safe and conservative.  But then again I suppose that this is the way a company pays attention to its audience.  Yet I wonder if Karen Kain and her National Ballet were to embrace the dark side –whether in Sendak’s sense of primal psychology or in Morris’s sense of adventurous mise-en-scène and playfulness—whether there would be any payback.  She /they have a captive audience every year.

Sigh, yet while I may dream that some day we’ll see something deeper and more dangerous from the National, I need to remember where we started this discussion.  Today is all about safety, and I will not criticize anyone who wants to retreat into any kind of cocoon.

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Press Release: Puppetmongers’ Cinderella in Muddy York

 “Press releases and announcements” are presented verbatim without comment.
PUPPETMONGERS proudly presents Cinderella in Muddy York
December 28, 2012 -January 5, 2013
at Theatre Passe Muraille’s Mainspace
Created and performed by Ann Powell and David Powell
Directed by Sue Miner
 
Toronto (November 7, 2012)  Puppetmongers celebrates its 23rd anniversary of delightful winter holiday performances this season with the return of its twice Dora-nominated favourite, Cinderella in Muddy York, created by Puppetmongers’ Co-Artistic Directors (and brother and sister) Ann and David Powell, and directed by Sue Miner. This year, with a move to Theatre Passe Muraille’s Mainspace, the magical Cinderella in Muddy York runs with 2pm daily matinees from December 28, 2012 to January 5, 2013 (except no performance January 1st).

A whimsical take on Toronto history that will tickle the funny bones of adults and children alike, Cinderella in Muddy York is a fairy tale of a Cinderella in Canada, reset in 1834 at the time when “muddy” York is about to become Toronto.

Puppetmongers’ Cinderella story is the tale of young Ella, born and raised in Muddy York, who seems to be the only member of her family able to cope with daily life in their drafty cabin at the edge of civilization. But will her newly landed step-mother and sisters squash Ella’s self esteem as they attempt to reduce her to servitude?

When an invitation arrives from Government House, inviting them all to a ball in honour of the city’s renaming to Toronto, hopes are high of meeting the eligible bachelor son of the Lieutenant-Governor of Upper Canada. True to the classic fairytale, with a little magic Cinderella manages to get to the Ball, satisfying the romantic expectations of all.

This witty and acclaimed work is ingeniously staged with beautiful rod-marionettes, inventive special effects and the charming performances of David and Ann as live actors along with their puppets. A traditional marionette theatre is imaginatively transformed to create scenes evoking the wilderness, settler life and early Canadian society, and the historic references, costumes, scenery and musical selections are authentic to the era. This is a delightful way to learn about Canadian history. _At the end, children often ask, “Did this really happen here?”

[Cinderella in Muddy York] plays beautifully to children and adults alikeŠ. the humour is subtle and beguiling. This show is magic for everybody. Go to it immediately.” – CBC Radio’s Lynn Slotkin (slotkinletter.com)

“NNNN Š.sure to become a Holiday classic.”  – NOW Magazine’s Jon Kaplan

The enchanting winter holiday performances by the Puppetmongers’ brother and sister team Ann and David Powell have become a delightful tradition for families and theatre-goers in Toronto these last two decades, although Puppetmongers Theatre has been bewitching audiences for 38 years with their extraordinary creations. At the forefront of puppetry arts in Canada, Puppetmongers have won numerous awards including five UNIMA-USA Citations of Excellence in the Art of Puppetry, the Presidents Award from the Puppeteers of America, the Harold Award for contribution to the Toronto theatre community and many Dora and Chalmers nominations. Their production of Cinderella in Muddy York earned a Citation of Excellence in the Art of Puppetry from l’Union International de la Marionette – USA in 2010.

Director Sue Miner is the co-artistic director of Pea Green Theatre Group with Mark Brownell, for which she has received numerous Dora Award nominations. She has thrice been nominated for the Pauline McGibbon Award for her work as a director.

 
Puppetmongers presents Cinderella in Muddy York
Created and performed by Ann Powell and David Powell, Directed by Sue Miner
 
Theatre Passe Muraille’s Mainspace, 16 Ryerson Avenue
Dec 28, 2012 – Jan 5, 2013; Suitable for adults and ages 5 and up.
 
Performances:   Daily matinees at 2:00pm (no performance January 1st)
 
ViositTickets:  $25 adults; $20 child/senior/student (Family bundle of 4 tickets for $75)
Group rates available through box office. More info: www.puppetmongers.com or 416 469 3555
 
Sister and brother, Ann and David Power of Puppetmongers Theatre perform their holiday show Cinderella in Muddy York from Dec. 28, 2012 to January 5, 2013 at Theatre Passe Muraille. Visit puppetmongers.com for info.
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Press Release: COC’s 2013 Tristan und Isolde

“Press releases and announcements” are presented verbatim without comment.

For immediate release: December 12, 2012

LEGENDARY DIRECTOR PETER SELLARS AND RENOWNED VIDEO ARTIST BILL VIOLA MAKE COC DEBUTS WITH AWE-INSPIRING PRODUCTION OF WAGNER’S TRISTAN UND ISOLDE

CELEBRATED CANADIAN TENOR BEN HEPPNER MAKES HIGHLY ANTICIPATED RETURN TO COC MAINSTAGE IN A SIGNATURE ROLE

Toronto – The Canadian Opera Company opens its winter season with one of music history’s most influential works, Richard Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde.  The COC’s 2013 presentation of Tristan und Isolde marks legendary director Peter Sellars’ company debut and the first time his original, awe-inspiring production has appeared in North America.  This multi-sensory experience features video imagery by internationally renowned video artist Bill Viola, who “has come up with an image of the scale and scope, grandeur and immensity, and genuine transcendence that Wagner was imagining,” says Sellars.  COC Music Director Johannes Debus, who conducts his first production of Tristan und Isolde, leads the COC Orchestra and Chorus through Wagner’s epic masterpiece as well as an acclaimed cast led by celebrated Canadian tenor Ben Heppner in a role for which critics have hailed him as “the great Tristan of this generation” (Associated Press).  Last seen at the COC in 1987, Tristan und Isolde returns for seven performances at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts on January 29, February 2, 8, 14, 17, 20 and 23, 2013, and is sung in German with English SURTITLES™.

The COC’s Tristan und Isolde is the first time Sellars’ production has been performed by an opera company other than Opéra national de Paris, since its premiere in 2005.  The design features a 40-foot-wide screen suspended above and behind a somberly lit space, featuring only a square platform for a set piece.  Accompanied by video, singers have minimal staging as they project the emotional depth of the piece through their voices.

Renowned theatre, opera and festival director Peter Sellars is one of the most innovative and powerful forces in the performing arts in the world, and he makes his COC debut with this production of Tristan und Isolde.  Following his iconic stagings of Le nozze di Figaro, Don Giovanni, and Così fan tutte in the 1980s, Sellars established a reputation for unique stagings of classic and contemporary operas, and has directed productions for Lyric Opera of Chicago, Glyndebourne Festival, Netherlands Opera, Opéra national de Paris, Salzburg Festival, San Francisco Opera and Metropolitan Opera, among others.

Bill Viola is internationally recognized as one of today’s leading artists, and has been instrumental in the establishment of video as a vital form of contemporary art.  The video imagery he has created for this production provides literal, metaphorical and spiritual complements to the tragic love between Tristan and Isolde.

COC Music Director Johannes Debus conducts his first production of Tristan und Isolde when he leads the COC Orchestra and Chorus.  Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde premiered in 1865 in Munich and is considered to be one the most revolutionary and influential works in music history due to Wagner’s use of tonality, orchestral colour and harmonic suspension.  Wagner raised the union of music and drama to new heights with Tristan und Isolde with the sheer power and passion of its score.

Based on the tragic medieval tale of two lovers fated to share a forbidden but undying love, Tristan und Isolde features two of the most strenuous roles in all of opera.  The title characters must sing above a 100-piece orchestra with vocal power and tonal brilliance, and possess the sheer stamina required to sing these roles over four hours of musical performance.  At any given time, there are only a handful of singers in the world who are able to meet all the challenges of these two roles.

The COC’s Tristan und Isolde marks tenor Ben Heppner’s long-awaited return to the company’s mainstage, having last appeared in a COC production in 1996’s Pagliacci.  Excelling in some of the repertoire’s most challenging roles, Heppner is acclaimed worldwide for his beautiful voice, intelligent musicianship and sparkling dramatic sense.  In the role of Tristan, he’s been praised for his “utter honesty and visceral power” (New York Times) and called “the finest Tristan since Vickers” (Fanfare).  Singing opposite Heppner is a German soprano known for her mastery of the Mozart, Strauss and Wagner repertoire, Melanie Diener, in her COC debut as Isolde.  Cited for her “genuine transcendence” (The Guardian) and “beaming, youthful Wagner voice” (Opera Today), Diener has collaborated with many of the major orchestras and conductors of today, is a frequent performer at the prestigious Bayreuth and Salzburg festivals and has been heard at the Metropolitan Opera, Royal Opera House Covent Garden, Opéra national de Paris and the Vienna and Berlin state operas, among others.

Sharing the title roles with Heppner and Diener for two performances (February 8 and 23) are German tenor Michael Baba and American soprano Margaret Jane Wray.  Baba makes his COC debut as Tristan.  His wide operatic repertoire, ranging from Mozart to Wagner, has created a great deal of demand for his voice.  He has performed throughout Germany, Austria, the United States and Japan, and recently gave his debut performance as Tristan at Salzburg’s Landestheater.  Wray is an award-winning dramatic soprano known for her interpretations of the works of Richard Wagner, and has performed at the world’s major opera houses, including the Metropolitan Opera, Teatro alla Scala, Bavarian State Opera, Berlin State Opera, and Opéra national de Paris.

Matching this acclaimed principal cast is an equally strong and renowned supporting roster of singers.  German bass Franz-Josef Selig has established himself on the international arena as one of the world’s most sought-after basses.  He makes his COC debut as King Marke of Cornwall, the man betrayed by Tristan and Isolde’s love affair.  The role of Isolde’s maid, Brangäne, is sung by Greek-American mezzo-soprano Daveda Karanas, winner of the 2008 Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions and hailed for her “capacious power” and “a voice lustrous and exciting” (San Francisco Chronicle).   American bass-baritone Alan Held, a “commanding figure both vocally and dramatically” (Globe and Mail) and who was noted as “on his own is worth the price of admission” (Toronto Star) for his star turn in the COC’s double-bill production of A Florentine Tragedy/Gianni Schicchi last spring, returns as Tristan’s servant, Kurwenal.  American bass-baritone Ryan McKinney, praised for his “elegant and articulate” vocalism (OC Register) and powerful voice that “drips with gold” (Opera News), is the courtier Melot.  Rising young artists and Ensemble Studio graduates bass Robert Gleadow and tenor Adam Luther return as the Steersman and the Sailor/Shepherd, respectively.

The COC’s Tristan und Isolde is a production from Opéra national de Paris.  Tony-Award winning designer the late Martin Pakledinaz created the costumes.  James F. Ingalls, who has worked extensively in theatre, opera and ballet and frequently with Sellars, designed the lighting.

TICKET INFORMATION
Single tickets for Tristan und Isolde are $12 – $390 (includes applicable taxes).  Tickets are available online at coc.ca, by calling 416-363-8231, or in person at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts Box Office, located at 145 Queen St. W., Monday to Saturday from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.

Standing Room
Sixty $12 Standing Room tickets are available at 11 a.m. the morning of each performance, in person only at the Four Seasons Centre Box Office.  Limit of two tickets per person.  Subject to availability.

Young People
Special young people’s tickets are priced from $23 to $110 (includes applicable taxes).  These ticket prices apply to those who are 15 years of age or under, accompanied by and sitting next to an adult.

Opera Under 30
Patrons between the ages of 16 and 29 may purchase $22 Opera Under 30 tickets as of January 19, 2013 at 10 a.m., online at coc.ca, or in person at the Four Seasons Centre Box Office.  Program patrons may opt to pay $35, whereby their tickets are automatically upgraded to the best available the morning of the performance they are attending.  Opera Under 30 is presented by TD Bank Group.

Student Group Tickets
Student group tickets are $22 per student and may be purchased by calling 416-306-2356.

Rush Seats
Rush seats, starting at $22 and subject to availability, go on sale at 11 a.m. on the morning of each performance at the Four Seasons Centre Box Office.  Limit of two tickets per person.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The COC’s production of Tristan und Isolde has been generously underwritten by Lisa Balfour Bowen and Walter M. Bowen; Philip Deck and Kimberley Bozak; Donald O’Born; Tim and Frances Price; Colleen Sexsmith; and Sandra L. Simpson.

Bill Viola is generously sponsored by Cecily and Robert Bradshaw.

Ben Heppner is generously sponsored by Ryerson and Michele Symons.

Tristan und Isolde Production Sponsor: BMO Financial Group.

Presenting Sponsor of SURTITLES™:  Sun Life Financial.

Official Automotive Sponsor of the COC at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts:
Jaguar Land Rover Canada.

Official Media Sponsors:  CTV and The Globe and Mail.

Digital Marketing Sponsor:  Delvinia.

The COC Ensemble Studio, underwritten in part by Peter M. Deeb and The Slaight Family Foundation, is Canada’s premier training program for young opera professionals and provides advanced instruction, hands-on experience, and career development opportunities. The Ensemble Studio is also supported by the Government of Canada through the Department of Canadian Heritage, RBC Foundation and other generous donors.

COC ANCILLARY EVENTS AND INFORMATION
Opera Connect: Bram & Bluma Appel Salon Star Talk: Peter Sellars in Conversation with Richard Ouzounian
The Canadian Opera Company’s Opera Connect – a new series of events connecting the public with the artists who create opera – teams up with the Toronto Reference Library to present the Bram & Bluma Appel Salon Star Talk: Peter Sellars in Conversation with Richard Ouzounian on January 28, 2013 at 7 p.m. at the Toronto Reference Library (789 Yonge St.). Renowned stage director Peter Sellars discusses his innovative body of work, including the hotly anticipated recreation of his Opéra national de Paris production of Richard Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde at the COC this winter.  Toronto Star theatre critic Richard Ouzounian conducts the interview.  Opera Connect: Bram & Bluma Appel Salon Star Talk: Peter Sellars in Conversation with Richard Ouzounian is a FREE event.  Tickets can be booked in advance starting December 31, 2012 by registering at http://www.torontopubliclibrary.ca/appelsalon.

Opera Exchange – Wagner and Adaptation: Tristan und Isolde
The Canadian Opera Company’s renowned Opera Exchange series continues on February 2, 2013 at 9 a.m. with an exploration of one of music history’s most influential works, Richard Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde.  Taking place at the University of Toronto’s Edward Johnson Building (80 Queen’s Park Cres.), the event features an exclusive chat between UofT Professor of English and Comparative Literature Dr. Linda Hutcheon and soprano Margaret Jane Wray (Isolde in the COC’s Tristan und Isolde), as well as a performance by COC Ensemble Studio graduate Christopher Mokrzewski of Wagner’s famous Liebestod, transcribed for piano by Franz Liszt.   The COC’s Opera Exchange series is presented in collaboration with the Munk School for Global Affairs and the Faculty of Music at the University of Toronto.  Tickets are $20 per person and are available online at coc.ca, by calling COC Ticket Services at 416-363-8231, or in person at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts Box Office, located at 145 Queen St. W., Monday to Saturday from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.  A limited number of tickets can also be purchased at the door on the morning of the event.  Discounts are available for university students and faculty.

BMO Financial Group Pre-Performance Opera Chats
Free to ticket holders, the COC offers 20-minute introductions to the opera and its themes in the Richard Bradshaw Amphitheatre at the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts 45 minutes prior to every performance.

Tristan und Isolde Interactive Features on COC Radio
Through COC Radio, visitors to coc.ca can find, in one place, a variety of audio and digital features available for streaming, all aimed at exploring an opera and its background as well as the artists appearing with the COC.  Among the resources on Tristan und Isolde, visitors will find a podcast series sponsored by Decca: The Opera Label.  Hosted by the COC’s Gianmarco Segato, the podcasts explore the opera and its background, featuring discussions with opera enthusiasts and experts as well as interviews with members of the production’s cast and creative team.  COC Radio podcasts are also available for free download through iTunes.

About the Canadian Opera Company
Based in Toronto, the Canadian Opera Company is the largest producer of opera in Canada and one of the largest in North America. The COC enjoys a loyal audience support-base and one of the highest attendance and subscription rates in North America. Under its leadership team of General Director Alexander Neef and Music Director Johannes Debus, the COC is increasingly capturing the opera world’s attention. The COC maintains its international reputation for artistic excellence and creative innovation by creating new productions within its diverse repertoire, collaborating with leading opera companies and festivals, and attracting the world’s foremost Canadian and international artists. The COC performs in its own opera house, the Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts, hailed internationally as one of the finest in the world. Designed by Diamond Schmitt Architects, the Four Seasons Centre opened in 2006, and is also the performance venue for The National Ballet of Canada. For more information on the COC, visit its award-winning website, coc.ca.

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