barczablog

Questions for Constance Adorno Barcza

Posted on December 30, 2023 by barczablog

Barczablog is like a public diary, a place where I reflect & offer opinions. It should be no surprise that in such a self-centred medium I should write about a Barcza occasionally. In those instances I’m more reticent, whether I’m speaking of Zoe Barcza (my daughter), Peter Barcza (my operatic baritone brother) or even myself, because I fear that my observations about a Barcza will be suspect, biased.

This time my taste preferences are front and centre. I enjoy being an enthusiast, energized by beauty & wit. On this occasion I’m interviewing a constant inspiration to me, whose work I admire. I’m speaking of Connie Barcza aka Constance Adorno Barcza who is married to my brother Peter. Yes she’s a family member, whose photography adorns the walls in my house. I’m lucky to be able to see her prolific output through Facebook where you may have seen some of her remarkable pictures.

Russian iris in our Toronto garden (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

Connie has been taking pictures for a long time. I’ve been an admirer of her work but golly gee, I realized as we came up to Christmas that I don’t know anything about what she thinks, about her process, and recognized this could be a wonderful interview.

Oh sure every now and then I ask about her work from across the room or dinner table given that we eat together a few times every year in a house where some of her pictures can be seen. Constance Adorno Barcza came into my life through my brother Peter, to whom she has been married since 1983. But I’m way overdue asking some of these questions. So I figure why not do this here on the blog, where I can share her work to the public.

Barczablog: Are you more like your father or your mother?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Temperamentally, more like my dad. Despite a mischievous streak, he was quieter, more reserved than my mom, who was very outgoing, gregarious and chatty. I’m an introvert and I actually had to teach myself how to socialize with people. It didn’t/doesn’t come naturally to me. But it’s interesting when we often see traits of both parents in ourselves, and their personalities were so opposite.

My interest in singing started in high school, when at times choir was the only saving grace for me. I had good grades – and in fact am a big believer in lifelong learning – but just having to sit in class all day long was so confining. On the other hand, “Glee Club” was pure pleasure. So when it came time to choose a major in university, the pinnacle to which I could aspire was teaching high school choir. I hadn’t even had a voice lesson at that point, and I was lucky the university accepted me into the Bachelor of Music Education program, majoring in voice. But soon after I started taking voice lessons, I was bitten by the opera bug. After I did my mandatory student teaching, I never actually used my teacher’s degree. I remember the first time I sang at a wedding and was handed an envelope marked, “Singer”. I was paid $10. Luckily, I did earn a bit more than that in later years!

Here’s a funny thing. Recently when I was going through old memorabilia, I came across an 8th grade graduation “memory book”. In answer to the question, “What do you want to be?” I had written “actress or photographer”. I have no recollection of writing that. The “actress” part surfaced many years later in my opera studies, and even later, the photography interest re-appeared.

BB: What is the best or worst thing about what you do?

Constance Adorno Barcza: The best thing about what I do now is that I’m retired! After many years working in law offices I decided I wanted to do something that was more meaningful to me, so I went back to university, earned a diploma in Gerontology and worked for several years in Recreation in long-term care/retirement residences. This was a real departure for me; it was very rewarding work and I’m glad I did it. I retired from that a few years ago, and now my time is more my own, which is quite a luxury. Maybe the worst thing is that it’s also sometimes too easy to goof off and accomplish very little!

BB: Who do you like to listen to or watch?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Old movies. I have a strong nostalgia streak. I’m especially partial to movies of the 1930’s and 40’s. Are they largely dated? Sure. Do I care? No. And I never tire of those wonderful movie scores – Steiner, Newman, Korngold, Herrmann, etc.!

BB: What ability or skill do you wish you had, that you don’t have?

Constance Adorno Barcza: To be able to play the piano. I actually minored in piano in my undergraduate years, but it was very minor indeed and I can’t really play. Just to sit down and play “lounge lizard” piano would be so much fun. And to play classical music would be amazing.

BB: When you’re just relaxing and not working, what is your favourite thing to do?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Walking. Reading. Gardening. Browsing in bookstores, libraries, antique shops. Surfing the Internet. Matching wits with hubby in word games and trivia quizzes. Genealogy has been a hobby for quite a few years, and I enjoy the detective aspect of it. I recently researched and wrote an article about a costume designer cousin whom I’d heard of but never met and it was published in an Italian-American newsletter based in New Orleans.

Tree, UBC (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: What was your first experience of music?

Constance Adorno Barcza: I have a vague memory of a 45 rpm record with a song about a bunny. I must have been very young. “There was a funny bunny in a town not far away, and everything he did, he did the other way…” It was in a minor key, so you know it involved pathos! I can recall my tears of sympathy for the bunny, but also being so happy that at the end of the song (by that time in a major key) the words were “…but everybody loved him just the same.” I don’t know if I identified with the bunny or if this was a first lesson in empathy!

My mom sang around the house constantly. That’s why I know so many songs from the 1930’s and 40’s. She had no vocal training but had a natural singing voice and was innately musical.

My brother, who was ten years older than I (and a talented drummer), introduced me to orchestral music and things like the Barber of Seville overture – and even later, the music of Stan Kenton. I know I was the only kid in the neighborhood who listened to Stan Kenton!

Of course, in New Orleans traditional jazz was all around. It was like a soundtrack to everyday life. It was the air that we breathed. I grew up with it and still love it.

BB: What is your favorite opera?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Not even remotely possible to choose just one, but I will say that I’m partial to Puccini, mostly for his gift of melody. And of course, Verdi. I lean heavily toward Italian and French operas. Not generally very keen on modern operas, however.

BB: Singers come out of training programs, including the ensemble studio of the COC. And then what? Some people can make a living, some can’t. Stratford Festival and National Ballet function as places to employ almost 100% Canadian talent. Yet the fiction is out there that we need to bring in singers from abroad. Can you imagine Canadian opera with Canadian personnel?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Yes. Some years ago, I had the opportunity to obtain the actual original charter of the COC (unfortunately lost to me now), and I remember that the mandate stated in no uncertain terms that the company’s mission was to promote Canadian talent. I have no problem with occasionally importing non-Canadian superstars, but certainly many, if not most, roles could – and should, in my view – be filled with Canadians. That was the mandate of the company.

BB: You’re a native of New Orleans, living in Canada. Talk about reconciling where you came from and where you are.

Constance Adorno Barcza: Two different worlds. But then, New Orleans is different from anywhere else. I came to Canada to attend the University of Toronto Opera Department’s two-year post-baccalaureate program. I didn’t know at the time that I would stay in Canada beyond that. In my mind my life is sort of geographically compartmentalized – New Orleans is still my emotional home, even though I left many years ago and I’m not able to go back as often as I’d like. But I also feel as if I left at least part of my soul in Florence, Italy, where I lived for the better part of a year while continuing my vocal studies. Each place has its particular charms.

St Louis Cathedral in New Orleans (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: I’m a fan of your photos. How did you start?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Well, thanks! When I was in 8th grade, I got my first 35mm camera, a Kodak Pony 135. I learned all about the settings, the “F” stops, etc. Nowadays I actually wouldn’t even know how to work it. Somehow over the years, photography slipped away. Then in 2008 I got my first digital camera on the occasion of a trip back to Florence, and that re-awakened my interest.
When we started spending some of the year in Vancouver, I started with my walks and photographed mostly flowers at first. Gradually I added different subjects. Still lots of flowers, but really, now I just photograph whatever sparks my interest.

BB: What is the earliest photograph you still have?

Constance Adorno Barcza: I still have a few which I snapped with that old Kodak – all black and white – mostly just of childhood friends and family.

BB: What equipment do you use?

Constance Adorno Barcza: I know that most people nowadays use their phones for taking photos, and I know that the technology is good, but I don’t own a cell phone. (A whole other story!) I use a simple, point-and-shoot digital camera. Nothing fancy. I’ve had several since that first one in 2008 – Fujifilm, Sony, etc. At the moment I use a Canon PowerShot 1400. I’m an amateur, and I say that not in a denigrating way, but thinking more about the root of the word as related to “lover”. I take photos because I love doing it. I have tremendous respect for professional photographers and really enjoy seeing their work, but I’m not one of them.

BB: What are some of your favorite places to take a picture?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Vancouver, our Toronto garden, back home in New Orleans, Florence when we can get there.

Beach, Vancouver (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: What are your favorite subjects?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Natural beauty appeals to me the most. But I snap whatever seems to me to be a photo waiting to happen. Flowers, trees, mountains, architecture, animals, scenic views, quirky stuff that I come across on my walks – whatever.

Piggy in raincoat, Toronto (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: Do you have any pointers for those of us who use our cameras to take pictures?

Constance Adorno Barcza: I see a lot of photos in which a cluttered background basically ruins what could have been a good shot. I will reluctantly pass up an otherwise good photo op if there’s just no way around a jumbled, distracting background. People should try to be aware of the background before snapping the shutter. And notice where the light source is coming from. Backlit photos are usually problematic unless you’re going for a specific effect.

Squirrel in our Toronto garden (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: You studied at the Opera School, and are a witness to how opera is being taught. If you could tell the institutions how to train future artists for a career in opera, what would you change?

Constance Adorno Barcza: Good question. There’s the art of opera and there’s the business. During my opera studies years ago, I really didn’t have much of an idea about the business aspect of it. It’s never been easy to make a living as an opera singer, but nowadays promoting oneself, making connections and “packaging” is the norm. A necessary evil, perhaps? There are still no guarantees, of course, no matter how slick the package.

BB: What are your favourite places and do you have pictures?

Constance Adorno Barcza: New Orleans, Florence, Vancouver.

Panorama, Florence (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: What about pictures of people?

Constance Adorno Barcza: I only very rarely take photos of people, as I don’t really have a knack for portraiture, although I’ve had a few lucky shots on occasion.

Ladybug and day lily, our Toronto garden (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: What are your favourite animals to photograph?

Cat, Vancouver (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

Constance Adorno Barcza: Cats, squirrels, crows, raccoons.

Crow, Vancouver (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

Canada goose, Vancouver (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

Challenging because they move so quickly!

Peeking raccoon from the garden in Toronto (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: Some people carry large cameras about, but can’t walk as far without driving. Talk about how you reconcile walks with your camera as a daily practice vs special picture – taking.

Constance Adorno Barcza: Well, my walks and photo-taking are basically one and the same. I never leave the house without my camera, and it’s small enough to fit into my pocket. But I don’t really go on special photo expeditions.

Autumn leaf, Vancouver (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: Do you have a preference between closeup or vista compositions..?

Constance Adorno Barcza: I like them both, but will have to get a more serious camera for super close-up, macro work.

Impressionistic trees, Vancouver (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

Magnolia, Vancouver (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

BB: How do you understand your own practice(?), do you take a picture every day? Do you look back at the pictures you’ve taken to edit or cull? Please reflect on how you approach picture taking and how you curate your collection.

Constance Adorno Barcza: I love the idea of freezing a moment in time. Capturing fleeting beauty. That goes along with my strong sense of nostalgia.

There are photo ops everywhere. Obviously, not every photo is going to be special, but if you take enough of them, chances are you’ll get some keepers. The fun is in the doing.

It’s not unusual for me to go for a walk and come home with, say, 40+ photos. Then I transfer them to my laptop, cull, and often crop them and sharpen a bit if necessary. Cropping is one of the best tools because it enables you to spotlight different aspects of the subject. I don’t normally use filters unless I’m going for a special effect, and then it’s really fun to fiddle around with that and other photo app features.

One thing – I’ve had people ask me how I see so many photo ops. I tell them those opportunities are all there, available for anyone to see, enjoy and photograph should they care to. But I notice on my walks that so many people are so busy talking on their phones, texting, etc. that they’re completely missing the world around them. And it can be a pretty interesting world!

Abstract Toronto (photo: Constance Adorno Barcza)

Posted in Art, Architecture & Design, Interviews | Tagged Constance Adorno Barcza, digital photography, Peter Barcza, photography, UBC, University of Toronto | 5 Comments

William Shookhoff reflects on a recent operatic controversy

Posted on December 30, 2023 by barczablog

Opera By Request artistic director William Shookhoff

This is a guest blog from William (aka Bill) Shookhoff, the pianist and artistic director of Opera by Request.

Thank you Bill!

~~~~~~~

Recently, the distinguished Metropolitan Opera of New York City announced that this holiday season would be marked by several performances of Julie Taymor’s family version of The Magic Flute, in a schedule that rivals many ballet companies’ presentation of Nutcracker. Some performances would be preceded by an open house, with various hands-on activities for kids, and some would have 11am start times, so the very little ones would still get home for their afternoon naps (with visions of—if not sugar plums—Magic Bells dancing in their heads). GREAT NEWS, RIGHT!!?

Apparently not. When last Saturday’s (December 16th) production was aired (on what I still fondly think of as the Texaco Metropolitan Radio Network), it was almost immediately greeted by a dismayed Facebook post, which set off a stream of comments, mostly dealing with what was cut, often in terminology which bordered on the vitriolic.

Terms like “butchery,” “vandalism,” “shameful” appeared, along with suggestions that the production was trying to “improve” or “dumb down” Mozart.

Taymor's Magic Flute — Don’t look over your shoulder Tamino….

Having attended this production on the previous Sunday, with my great nieces, aged 3 and 6, and having been involved in every conceivable version of Magic Flute, from class-period length to completely uncut, I feel I can fairly respond to this thread.

First, let’s deal with what was included, not excluded:

Every character (including the armed guards)
Every aria (though some with judicious cuts; strophic arias generally omitted one stroph; Ach ich fuhl’s, in a slow tempo near the end of the opera, was presented in its entirety)
Every significant plot development, including the disturbing elements such as kidnapping, attempted murder (times two), rejection and destruction. Only attempted suicide was passed over, which made Pamina’s re-entry one of the less successful moments in the production.
The trials by fire and water.

And let’s mention what this version did not include (as some other family versions have)

Modern dress
Referencing to video games
Contemporary references in the translation

And what might be particularly inspiring to young audiences:

Casting the three Knaben as just that: boys. (Apologies to any mature singers who may be reading this and have been cast in these roles. I’m sure you were wonderful, but the unique presence of unchanged boy sopranos avoids any confusion between the three Knaben and the three Ladies).

And the most practical decision of all:

One hundred minutes (hardly indicative of dumbing down) with no intermission. Imagine trying to get a full house at the Met, over half of them children, in and out of the washrooms at intermission. It’s difficult enough during the Ring Cycle, when intermissions are extended.

But the most important point of all is one that renders all the above irrelevant: Why was this ever a point of controversy? Of course one can always take issue with artistic decisions (I questioned several), but who can argue with an operatic presentation that fills a vast auditorium several times over, largely with people who have never before seen an opera, many of whom are too young to be able to read the supertitles?

Offering 2/3 of a complete opera, with only notes that were gleaned from the original score, should not be problematic. We in Canada have seen the demise of several opera companies in recent years. Germany, still the mecca for many opera singers and audience, boasts far fewer companies and resident artists than was the case when my own career was burgeoning, sometime in the last millenium. The Netherlands, which boasted no fewer than 23 full-time orchestras (in a country smaller than any of the mainland Canadian provinces) in the 1970s, now has fewer than half that number. And the companies that survive are repeatedly trying to come up with ways to attract more audience, some successful, many not.

When I was first becoming acquainted with opera scores, one thing I was constantly being told, to my surprise, was “This scene is always cut.” “No one does the cabaletta.” “We always jump from point A to point B.” Now, many of those dogmas have been eliminated, which is a good thing, but does that mean that these operas were less relevant as they were generally presented in the last century than they are today, when offered in full? I think not. Is a 100-minute Magic Flute, with no intermission, less relevant, than the standard 150-minute version?

I feel fortunate to have been invited periodically to perform with an opera company whose very name, “Abridged Opera” answers these questions. In Toronto we’ve been blessed with numerous innovative companies that offer a taste of opera in varied and unusual venues, presentations of varying lengths.

I would hope that those (and they are a far-too-small minority as it is) who enjoy the art form enough to turn on the radio on a Saturday afternoon could unite and appreciate any and all efforts to bring opera to a wider public.

I thank Leslie Barcza, whose blog is never short on insight and wisdom, to allow me to make a guest appearance on his page. Now let’s all enjoy our next operatic performance, with whatever flaws and shortcomings may be present, and applaud the efforts of those involved.

~~~~~~~

In turn I thank you Bill for your input, and I’m happy to publish your words here. AND i must apologize that the combination of personal business and holiday shenanigans delayed my posting this until today, December 29th.

Posted in guest blog, Opera | Tagged Die zauberflote, Julie Taymor, Magic Flute, Opera by Request, William Shookhoff, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart | 5 Comments

Selling off opera tickets for two shows in February 2024

Posted on December 21, 2023 by barczablog

We’re selling a pair of tickets for each of the Canadian Opera Company‘a winter shows. We have a paid subscription but can’t go this time. That’s why we have to sell them:

A pair to The Cunning Little Vixen by Janacek
Saturday @ 4:30 pm February 3rd 2024

A pair to Don Giovanni by Mozart
Saturday @ 4:30 pm February 24th 2024

Both shows are at the Four Seasons Centre, corner of Queen St & University Ave

Our subscription seats are in the second row, on the aisle, so close you can see the action. We’re asking $200.00 for each pair, not the $300 face value of each pair of tickets.

If interested email lesliebarcza at rogers.com thanks.

Posted in Personal ruminations & essays | Leave a comment

A Tale for Two Cities: the Battle of Alberta

Posted on December 19, 2023 by barczablog

It’s not the first time I’m jealous of Alberta. The Leafs never win The Cup, while Calgary and Edmonton have each had their moments.

Joel Ivany has relocated out west, Miriam Khalil singing and teaching alongside him as they raise their family.

There’s another newer reason for my envy.

In 2024 both Calgary and Edmonton will be staging Das Rheingold, perhaps my favorite of all of Wagner’s music dramas.

And one wonders whether they might present the rest of the Ring Cycle.

If you look at the webpages for the two opera companies (below) you see a fascinating contrast.

Both Edmonton and Calgary have Jubilee Auditoriums, a pair of big theatres where their respective opera companies often perform.

It’s no surprise to see that the Calgary production will be staged there, a perfect venue for a work requiring Wagner’s huge orchestra and the big voices we expect in his operas.

Edmonton however is trying something a bit different. Instead of their Jubilee Auditorium they’re staging their Rheingold at a smaller venue, namely the Maclab Theatre at The Citadel, a space holding 704 guests rather than the 2500 of the Jubilee Aud.

I see on the Edmonton Opera webpage:
“Adaptation by Jonathan Dove and Graham Vick, Orchestrated by Jonathan Dove”

Joel directed me to this page from Birmingham Opera for further information on their adaptation.

So in other words, something a bit different and unusual.

Yes I’m jealous. I try not to let my envy mess me up but sometimes I can’t help it. Over the past decade we saw Against the Grain Theatre –aka Joel’s previous company in Toronto—regularly find unexpected venues to present opera, true to the name of the company.

Pelléas et Mélisande done in a courtyard at dusk.

Figaro’s Wedding in a venue for weddings.

A little too Cozy, the AtG transladaptation of Cosi fan tutte done in a CBC studio, but re-done as a TV show.

More than a decade ago we enjoyed la boheme in English in a pub, first in Toronto then touring all across the country.

And there was also Messiah/Complex, a video adaptation of Handel employing singers and musicians from every province and territory of Canada. So although Toronto has the “Canadian Opera Company” maybe the real Canadians are in Alberta.

Joel may have gone out west yet his inventiveness isn’t gone. Maybe it’s hitting its stride in Alberta, with a cast of Canadians in that smaller venue, not unlike their many stagings of la boheme in bars across Canada. They were exciting precisely because the spaces were so tiny, the theatre so intimate.

In the first boheme I saw, I’ll never forget that Musetta came up behind me and ruffled my hair. Holy cow, you can’t do anything like that in a big theatre no matter how rambunctious your rhine maidens might be.

Das Rheingold is one of my favorite operas, one that our own Canadian Opera Company has only presented during their Ring Cycle in 2006 otherwise: never. It’s the same set they’ve used in their revivals of Die Walkure, Siegfried and Gotterdammerung, three huge long operas. Rheingold is comparatively short & sweet, so why not… COC? please???? Perhaps hire some of the people who will be singing in one of the Alberta productions.

In any case there it is, presented twice in 2024 in what might be mistaken for a new Battle of Alberta.

No there’s no hockey involved, but both Calgary Opera and Edmonton Opera will be staging Das Rheingold in 2024 in contrasting versions. I don’t want to invoke The Stampede even if my first impulse is to shout “Holy Cow.”

And I wonder whether Calgary and Edmonton will go on to stage the rest of the Ring cycle operas. We shall see.

Oh wait… I asked Joel via Facebook Messenger. He may be thousands of miles away but he confirms that this is the beginning of a Cycle, not just a one off.

I won’t freeze in the dark but in the meantime I may pull out one of my Rheingold recordings to keep warm.

For further reading and to purchase tickets….

https://www.calgaryopera.com/23-24/rheingold
https://www.edmontonopera.com/das-rheingold

Calgary’s Rheingold goes on in April.

Edmonton’s Rheingold goes on near the end of May.

Posted in Opera | Tagged Against the Grain Theatre, Alberta, Birmingham Opera, Calgary Opera, Calgary Stampede, Das Rheingold, Edmonton Opera, Graham Vick, Joel Ivany, Jonathan Dove, Miriam Khalil, opera, Richard Wagner | Leave a comment

Andrew Smith: a life in motion

Posted on December 9, 2023 by barczablog

The book I’m writing about would make a great gift any time of the year.

Do you reread books? It may sound odd but I love to reread a favorite book. I like to re-read novels. I watch favorite films over and over. Erika and I have watched Moonstruck together easily 20 times. Surely that’s not a radical idea, not when we listen to songs and symphonies over and over. The structure of a good book, like a sonata or a film can (should?) be something as delicate & beautiful as a song or a symphony. You taste it the first time, then you’re able to anticipate with delight what’s coming, to celebrate it, knowing what’s coming when you go through it again. The enjoyment is not the same as the first time because there’s a layer of expectation added.

I keep reading and re-reading Andrew Smith’s a life in motion, a book of poems. The poems are like songs so that makes sense.

It’s a bit dog-eared, but well-loved.

I met Andrew in his role as accountant, someone whose powerful story is captured in his book Rebuilding Janise: A Family’s First Year After A Stroke. It’s a great book.

Now Andrew has written a poetry book, exploring the implications of life. The rewards are unexpected, given what I learned about poems and literature in university. I obtained the book, curious about what poems Andrew might write, but also continuing my fascination with the story of Andrew and his family. I first opened it feeling I was responding to Rebuilding Janise, a book that reads like a study in romance, an exploration of the meaning of love.

I remember asking Andrew if he had seen the film 50 First Dates, which is one of the most romantic films I know of. Yes I know, it’s corny but I love this film, which I suppose I’ve seen 5 times. It’s funny in places, romantic and beautiful in others. I asked Andrew about it because the plight of Lucy (Drew Barrymore) who has had a brain injury that wipes out her recent memory every day reminds me a bit of what Andrew told us about Janise, whose stroke has impacted her understanding of the world. It’s not nearly the same, but I see parallels between the challenges faced by Henry (Adam Sandler) and Andrew.

It’s not easy being Andrew.

Author and poet Andrew Smith

Now the poems of a life in motion are a bit like a sequel, even though they’re poems. Yet they’re more than that. Andrew takes us along on a meditation on the meaning of love and life, each poem a narrow slice. What’s wonderful about the book is how each poem takes me into that life, and how each time I re-read (I think I’m on re-read #3 right now) I get a deeper glimpse.

As a husband, as a lover, as a father, there are roles we play that are nearly universal. So of course when a father reads a poem about fatherhood hopefully it says something to you about your own experience. Ditto for love, marriage, I did not expect that Andrew would hit it out of the park so often in this book. While some CDs I have consist of songs & tracks, where I skip ahead, not bothering with every song but having favorite tracks. I’m reading this book cover to cover each time.

From Sappho’s Lyre

Posted on December 9, 2023 by barczablog

Constantine Caravassilis is the composer of From Sappho’s Lyre, a recording from Orchid Classics of original music played by Tallinna Kammerorkester and Tenth Muse Ensemble and vocal soloists, setting poetry by Sappho, Jeffrey Duban and Sara Teasdale, that might make a good gift for the classically minded listener at this time of year.

When I saw the cover and the sources I was immediately reminded of Pierre Louÿs and his Chansons de Bilitis (Songs of Bilitis), known to readers and perhaps even more famous via Claude Debussy’s settings of the poems of his friend and room-mate. Louÿs was playing games with his audience via the claims of the authorship of the songs, which in fact were his modern compositions rather than discoveries of ancient texts.

In case you’re wondering why I’d be reminded immediately, it’s both as a pianist practitioner, as a Debussy scholar and as a fan of Louÿs having adapted his novel Aphrodite for the stage back in the 1990s. This entire discursive space of the classical poetic realm, whether real or fake, has intrigued me for literally decades.

So it was with some eagerness that I put Caravassilis’ music onto the CD player of my car to have a listen. It’s compelling listening.

Please note, these are modern compositions employing different groups of instruments, vocals and some narration. This is a mammoth recording, including some more modern sounding pieces. But I was especially captivated by the music inhabiting a middle ground between new-age meditative music and songs with more than a few hints of ancient days. Caravassilis shifts back and forth, employing a few different styles and idioms. When he’s in this one that seems like an evocation of the Ancient Mediterranean culture? I’m hooked. No it’s not as if we know what that music sounded like, nor does this really imitate that, but we’re not jarred, not disturbed from allusions and fantasies of the past. Yet it’s as ambiguous and poetic as the wind blowing through an empty amphitheatre. We are in a tonal realm, melodic without being overly virtuosic. The voices address us in a curious middle-ground between passion and ritual, as we might expect for what we know of Sappho.

The music of From Sappho’s Lyre is often very beautiful. These songs have made a pleasant accompaniment to my driving, that I recommend.

Posted in Books & Literature, Music and musicology | Tagged Claude Debussy, Constantine Caravassilis, From Sappho’s Lyre, Pierre Louÿs, Sappho, Sara Teasdale, Tallinna Kammerorkester | Leave a comment

Chamber Works by Robert Müller-Hartmann from ARC Ensemble

Posted on December 3, 2023 by barczablog

For the fan of chamber music seeking something beautiful but unlike their usual music, for the collector who needs something new and different, this is an ideal gift.

About a year ago I was thrilled to attend a concert by the ARC Ensemble playing the music of Robert Müller-Hartmann, a composer who was unknown to me. There’s a European angst lurking beneath the suave surfaces of his compositions. But except for a friendship with Ralph Vaughan Williams he was unappreciated when he came from Germany to the British Isles. Had his life not been so disrupted he’d likely be much more well-known, possibly famous. That’s where the ARC Ensemble comes in.

“ARC” signifies the Artists of The Royal Conservatory in Toronto established in 2003 as The Conservatory’s ensemble-in-residence and now among Canada’s most distinguished cultural ambassadors. Their “Music in Exile” series is the thoughtful work of their artistic director Simon Wynberg finding composers whose music has been suppressed or lost, and thoughtfully bringing it before the public. It feels like a combination of research and activism.

I remember wishing to have a recording of what we heard on that November afternoon at the RCM, recognizing that the ARC team would likely be the first if not the only ones likely to bother bringing this unknown composer to our attention.

Wish granted!

The music heard on that program of November 2022 is reproduced on the new CD. The only difference is a slight change of the order of pieces. Instead of aiming for the kind of climactic effects just before and after intermission that make a live performance a bit more dramatic, the recording flows in a sequence reflecting something closer to the actual chronology of their creation by the composer.

We open with the sonata for Violin and Piano Op 5 (c 1923). That’s exactly a century, something I only noticed by reading earlier today about Maria Callas’s hundredth birthday, on Saturday December 2nd 2023. The sonata has a mournful soulful quality running through its three movements, sometimes racing along but suddenly pausing as if to ruminate on the meaning of life for a moment.

The Two pieces for cello and piano that follow begin gently, the piano softly in support of the exquisite sounds make by Thomas Wiebe. This is not some quick virtuoso piece but rather a gentler exploration of the instrument, probing & passionate reflections as if to say “look what this instrument can do”.

After the restraint of the two cello pieces, the Sonata for Two Violins Op 32 races away from a starting gate powered by a kind of animal adrenaline, the passionate energy of dialogue. After a pair of works with piano, this time it’s a pair of similar instruments sounding remarkably dense in their sound. While I didn’t need to be persuaded when I saw this live, playing it on the CD it sounds like more than just two violins. Müller-Hartmann gives them real meat to chew on with this remarkable piece. At times I’m reminded of the word “counterpoint” even if the imitation isn’t really like that at all. There are phrases that might be a bit like Bach, but no it’s not taking a theme and using it that way. There’s a back and forth that’s at times more of a call and response, sometimes playing with rhythms and shapes, and just when it seems they’re fighting they work together establishing harmonies, playing off of as much as against one another. This work of four movements is deliciously deep.

The next piece had been my absolute favorite in the live concert, the Three Intermezzi and Scherzo Op 22, a revelation at the piano from soloist Kevin Ahfat. There’s a Brahmsian weight to the pianism for the three intermezzi, sometimes taking its sweet time to unfold its ideas as in the first, sometimes deciding to zoom along in fierce patterns tightly organized around a simple concept as in the second or third. That Scherzo is magnificently clean in organization, reminding me a bit of Saint-Saens or Liszt for its demonic energies yet much more modern in its harmonies and tastes. While it’s contemporary with Rachmaninoff it’s more economical, far more direct in its writing. The virtuosity this requires is more like what you find in the Chopin Scherzi, broad gestures requiring octaves and fast movements with both hands. I must find the score somehow even if I’m fairly sure I will not be able to play it up to speed. But even playing it slowly helps me understand what I’m hearing, to appreciate what Müller-Hartmann has achieved. And also to get a glimpse of the back of that passing express train, aka Kevin Ahfat flashing by as he zips through the piece without missing a note.

Finally we come to the String Quartet No 2, Op 38 this time played by everyone but Kevin, namely violins Erika Raum and Marie Bérard, Steven Dann viola and Thomas Wiebe cello. There are four very different movements, the work of a mature composer who, were it not for the work of the ARC virtuosi, would have slipped through the cracks of history, forgotten. I’m especially enamored of the dance rhythms of the second and the drama of the fourth movements, all four contributing to a beautiful whole.

ARC Ensemble: Erika Raum and Marie Bérard (violins), Kevin Ahfat (piano),
Steven Dann (viola), and Thomas Wiebe (cello). (photo: Suane Hupa)

The recording is over an hour of music, available through the RCM’s website (click here).

Posted in Music and musicology | Tagged ARC Ensemble, Erika Raum, Kevin Ahfat, Marie Bérard, Music in Exile, Ralph Vaughan Williams, RCM, Robert Müller-Hartmann, Royal Conservatory of Music, Simon Wynberg, Steven Dann, Thomas Wiebe | Leave a comment

Mahler, Berg and more at the EJB Library

Posted on November 26, 2023 by barczablog

Thursday Nov 23rd felt like a Thanksgiving celebration.

I found a free parking spot on Bernard for one hour. The first 15 minutes were spent walking down Bedford Rd & then Philosopher’s Walk to the Edward Johnson Building for my first visit to the music library since my retirement in October 2020.

Outside the EJB I ran into Peter Johnston the Grounds Supervisor, looking ageless while toiling away in his usual hands on style of work. The whole university seems to be under construction, which can’t be fun for students and is an extra challenge for support staff like Peter. It’s not the first time I feel lucky, grateful to have retired.

The library at the EJB is a treasure.

There I was the morning after a TSO concert that included Mahler’s Fifth and seven songs of Alban Berg. Sure you can find orchestral scores. But I was able to find the piano versions of the songs and a piano reduction of the symphony. That is crazy, insanely useful.

I am thereby able to play the whole massive thing at a piano.

I also found the Liszt transcription of Berlioz’s Harold in Italy, the complete piano score to the Nutcracker, and piano reductions of Night on the Bald Mountain & Les Preludes by Liszt. The collection never ceases to amaze me.

I was headed for home to write the review then play the piano.

But first at the checkout I ran into Jay Lambie, who sang the role of Mozart in both casts of a production of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Mozart and Salieri that we did 25 years ago at the Drama Centre. Moments later I ran into one of the two Salieris, Alex Dobson, still looking as youthful as ever. I briefly showed him my huge haul, almost more scores than I could carry, but Alex told me he had to run to teach at the EJB.

Baritone Alexander Dobson (photo: Melissa Tremblay)

At home I would quickly grab dinner (thank you Erika), write a quick review of the TSO concert, then go play parts 1 and 2 of the Mahler at the piano.

The amazing thing about a piano transcription is how it’s a fantasy. While anyone else may hear the piano, when I do that opening phrase (fantasy) I hear that trumpet in my head. The crescendo that follows is still on a scale of piano solo, but one dreams of the huge tutti, at least in one’s own mind. Ditto playing other transcriptions. It’s quite a trip.

While TPL are having computer problems, this other library is a dream come true. I was able to find the call numbers in advance, knowing where to look so that I could scoop everything up, and make it back to my parking spot within an hour.

Thank you to the UTL web and IT gurus, and the librarians like Jay, who make it all possible.

Posted in Music and musicology, Opera, University life | Tagged Alban Berg, Alexander Dobson, Edward Johnson Building Library, Gustav Mahler, Jay Lambie, University of Toronto | Leave a comment

Mahler’s Fifth and Berg’s early songs

Posted on November 24, 2023 by barczablog

The Toronto Symphony’s program for this week is a surprisingly powerful combination.

We open with 17 minutes of passionate singing by mezzo-soprano Emily D’Angelo, seven songs composed by Alban Berg (1885-1935) between 1905 and 1908.

After intermission we settle in for the hour and a quarter of the Fifth Symphony of Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) composed in 1901–1903, the last decade of his life.

Although Michael Tilson Thomas was to conduct I gather he had to cancel due to his ongoing health concerns, alas.

Guest conductor David Robertson made his TSO debut. I didn’t know him or his work but after seeing him last night I was very impressed. In the songs David was as self-effacing as an accompanist, a word that we rarely hear anymore even if those of us of a certain vintage still recall the concept, perhaps best captured in the title to Gerald Moore’s memoir “Am I too loud?” When we came to the Mahler Symphony we saw a different side to him.

Let me speak first of the songs, a version of a pattern the TSO regularly follow, where they put something more challenging to begin with a crowd pleaser afterwards. What’s different this week is that the opener was not just spectacular but in every way the peer of the popular piece that followed. I believe the verdict on Berg’s songs is shifting with time, as programmers stop worrying about how the works fit with the rest of the composer’s output. Who cares what Berg was to become if he could write such spectacular music at this point in his career? It’s a bit mind-boggling that Berg could compose this way in his early 20s (although they were not orchestrated by Berg until much later) the songs showing another less dissonant side to a composer associated with atonality through a pair of operas Wozzeck (1925) and Lulu (unfinished at the time of Berg’s death in 1935).

I’ve had the pleasure of watching and hearing Emily before, a standout in Canadian Opera Company productions of Cosi fan tutte in 2019 and Barber of Seville in 2020. I couldn’t resist listening to her sing Berg songs on YouTube, where their treacherous ambiguities lead some other singers astray. Let’s just say that the best versions you will find are by this brilliant young Canadian, and last night she was again spectacular.

Mezzo-soprano Emily D’Angelo with the TSO and guest conductor David Robertson (photo: Stelth Ng)

I have one small quibble, but it’s not with Emily. I wish that when we’re watching a hybrid work for music with text such as this one at Roy Thomson Hall , that we would have the titles projected with a translation. Sorry if I sound demanding. As Emily started, I saw heads going into the program to figure out what we were hearing. Even a printed text of the songs would be better than nothing. Would you expect to see a foreign film at TIFF without subtitles? Every little opera company in the area (Opera by request, Voicebox, and others I could mention) let alone the COC and Opera Atelier give us translations. How could it be otherwise, when we are listening to singers interpreting words in another language? While Berg does offer us nice music to go with the Mahler, we insult Emily when we are unable to understand the nuances of her splendid singing, even if we did scream our approval.

There was an encore that wasn’t in the program. I asked Cecilia Livingston through social media. She was brought up onto the stage for applause after Emily sang the song: a Clara Schumann lied of the poem “Lorelei” (presumably Heine, although I could be wrong), in an original arrangement by Livingston getting its TSO premiere (I mistakenly said “Canadian premiere” but Cecilia tells me that was with the NACO, as I badly paraphrased what Emily said announcing her encore). Again, I wish I had the text before me as I watched Emily’s urgent performance. While we’ve twice seen her in comedy in the two COC shows I mentioned above her intensity in this serious repertoire was hair-raising.

I wonder if there’s anything she can’t sing.

Emily, Cecilia Livingston, David and the TSO accepting our applause

And so we went from the gently supportive work by David in the Berg songs, to something entirely different for the Mahler. There was something to give me genuine shivers running down my spine in every movement. I say that as a devoted lover of this piece. The opening movement fanfares lead us to a softer than usual reading of the string responses, gradually building to some tremendous climaxes. The second movement was urgently spine-tingling, as David seemed to stir up something in the ensemble. The TSO respond to him, playing crisply. As a fan of quicker Mahler I’m grateful how powerfully David urged the orchestra on.

TSO guest conductor David Robertson (photo: Stelth Ng)

We paused before the third movement as horn player Neil Deland took up a position to properly foreground what was to come, his powerful solo work. I’ve heard this symphony all my life, but never seen it done with such a sense of poignant drama. Mahler was a man of the theatre, writing flamboyant moments, ironic passages apt for satyrs or satire (if they’re not the same thing) just waiting for an ensemble to properly seize the moment and take the stage. After allowing Neil to return to his usual seat, giving us another ostentatious pause (useful also in delineating Mahler’s structure dividing the symphony into parts 1, 2 and 3), we were into the gentle Adagietto, which may begin softly but does find its way to its own sort of climaxes. I find it mildly irritating that the part of this symphony that seems to be most popular is the movement that I believe was designed to give the wind players a rest, the soft Adagietto fourth movement. It’s a bit like thinking that the Grave Digger is the most important character in Hamlet, charming as his appearance may be. The Adagietto is that delightful piece of baguette to clean your palate between spicy courses that might otherwise overwhelm you. Of course for those who find Mahler too rich and prefer some Vivaldi the Adagietto is a gentle oasis, a lifeline when you’re drowning in big sounds. I grew up on big sounds so pardon me.

And without pause (observing the composer’s division into three parts rather than five) we were into a more restrained and controlled reading of the finale, one that built up gradually to the silliness of the last phrase. As in Shakespeare, comedy was always lurking.

TSO guest conductor David Robertson (photo: Stelth Ng). You can see his perfect posture in this photo.

Athletic? Agile? I’m impressed that David was able to turn his head to face any section of the orchestra while keeping his body aligned in the middle, his feet still square to the podium even as he turns wherever he needs to turn. The last conductor I saw with this kind of flamboyant response to the music was Leonard Bernstein, except David manages to do it without any of the overdone showmanship, working in support even when the orchestra was triple forte. He has the clearest beat I think I’ve ever seen. When the symphony was over David dutifully went about the orchestra congratulating each section, drawing applause. He was like a servant, or maybe a teacher caring for his pupils. But the bond seemed genuine.

I hope the TSO bring him back, he’s a great artist and a lovely man.

The TSO repeat this concert Friday & Saturday night. If you can make it you really should go!