Toronto Symphony play for Gimeno

Posted on October 10, 2019 by barczablog

Tonight’s Toronto Symphony concert reminded me of someone I haven’t thought of in ages, a piano teacher in my teen years. At every lesson we’d begin with small-talk, and then he’d say “now play for me!” It was a wonderfully intimate invitation, making the music-making into a kind of communication, and very personal. It made me feel that he wanted to see what I was doing and that what I was bringing to him each week was a kind of gift, making me feel special (even when I wasn’t thrilled with how a piece was going).

He inspired me.

I was reminded of that magical chemistry as I watched the TSO playing at Roy Thomson Hall tonight, a huge difficult program that they’re repeating Thursday & Saturday:

  • Connesson’s Aleph: Danse symphonique (a TSO co-commission)
  • Prokofiev’s 3rd Piano Concerto with Beatrice Rana, soloist
    (intermission)
  • Tchaikovsky’s The Tempest Fantasy-Overture
  • Ravel’s Suite #2 from Daphnis et Chloé

Did I say it was a huge difficult program? I loved three of the four pieces, although all of them were challenging. Yet the orchestra played like a bunch of kids wanting to impress their new best friend: Gustavo Gimeno. It doesn’t hurt that he knows how to lead them, with a solid beat, a sense of meter and clear interpretive ideas.

talkback_Oct9

TSO’s CEO (left) interviews incoming TSO Music Director Gustavo Gimeno

The piece that I didn’t love? It’s not the orchestra’s fault. Tchaikovsky’s Tempest piece is about 5 minutes too long, a series of lovely episodes and one too many climaxes. It ends with a stunning elegiac passage that reminds me of the ending of the Manfred Symphony¸ although it would be hard to find two dramatic works more different than Byron’s Manfred and Shakespeare’s Tempest.

I suppose the word “kitsch” is in my mind after Wilson’s take-down and deconstruction of Puccini at the COC, although what impressed me was how Gimeno got commitment from his players.  A conductor can’t have his players only making an effort when they’re playing a brilliant high-quality score, oh no; they need to play even when it’s schlock.  No the quality of the piece didn’t stop anyone from putting their heart boldly & lovingly on their sleeve, and that’s what a conductor wants ultimately.  There were stunning moments when you saw the beginnings of a beautiful relationship. The cellos en masse emoting a big romantic melody, the trombones & tuba in a perfect choir, the horns (!) both at the beginning & ending making magic..? THAT is why I thought of my piano teacher, watching the eye contact as Gimeno seemed to invite his players (the orchestra he is about to lead after all): to play for him.

And they did so.

The other three works are the reason you should try to get to this concert.

rana

Pianist Beatrice Rana

I reviewed Rana’s debut CD of Chopin & Scriabin back in 2012, a masterful display of technique coupled with a very mature sensibility. She has wonderful taste, as she showed us tonight. The Prokofiev is an invitation to bring out different facets of her playing in the varieties of sound she gave us. We started with soft relaxed noodling that led to moments of big angular octave passages, easily penetrating the thick orchestral textures. Whether it’s more Gimeno or Rana, we always heard the solos clearly, sometimes floating on the orchestral waves, sometimes sparkling in their firmament. This is the most impressive display of piano playing I’ve seen in awhile.

Because we screamed so enthusiastically for her, Rana honoured us by playing the 5th Chopin etude in E minor as an encore, a stunning jewel.

The TSO concluded with the Ravel, Gimeno illustrating a maxim that’s deceptively simple. To make a good crescendo you have to make sure you start softly. This might be the softest beginning to this piece that I’ve ever heard: making the inexorable build-up that follows so much more powerful, so much more beautiful. Much of the piece was kept in check, so that when a big loud brass passage spears out of the surrounding texture, it’s that much more effective if it’s in the midst of mezzo-piano or mezzo-forte, rather than an orchestra already blaring away at forte. Not only does this spare the audience –who maybe shouldn’t hear everything blared—but it also conserves the chops of the players. It was an especially busy night for the brass: and they were excellent.

To open, we heard something more than a mere curtain raiser. Gimeno explained in a post-concert talk-back, that the piece, titled “Aleph”, which is the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, is an apt symbol of the beginning of Gimeno’s relationship with the TSO.

The piece was more than that however. I only wish I could catch the concert again later in the week, as I suspect it will get better. New music is always a challenge, not just to learn how to play, but also in the more fundamental sense of discovering what it’s really doing, knowing how to listen. The first time you play a piece you’ve heard others play is a different level of difficulty from making sense of a brand-new composition.  Connesson’s work is fascinating composition that I want to hear again. It features a lot of odd bar-lengths, the meter elusive to perceive, and likely a stiff challenge to the players AND Gimeno. His background as a percussionist seems to be exactly what the doctor ordered, as the orchestra seems ready & willing to follow his lead. At times this piece reminded me of Frank Zappa especially in the long & daunting passages for unison percussion, executed brilliantly I might add.

The concert will be repeated Thursday & Saturday, Oct 10 & 12.

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Not quite forgotten: Liszt’s Valses oubliées

Posted on October 6, 2019 by barczablog

The composer centennials & bicentennials may be artificial stimuli to research, but the effect is real. Knowing that everyone is suddenly focusing upon a particular period seems to inspire all sorts of interesting studies, conferences where people share their research and even get some ideas. It can perhaps be the difference between something languishing in obscurity or finally getting enough attention to be published.

I stumbled on something in the library.

One day while driving home, I’d happened to hear a performance of the first “Valse oubliée” of Franz Liszt on the radio in the car: my usual place to hear music.
So I went to the library to get the music, which is one of the few Liszt pieces I play that I don’t own.

(although it turns out that I did…
Funny that I had forgotten…
hmmm literally a forgotten waltz).

When I think back, I realize that it’s one of several pieces I first encountered in Vladimir Horowitz’s “Homage to Liszt” album of live performances, an album dating from the early 1960s that someone brought into the house, forever ruining me.

homage_cover

There may be better performances out there but each of these has burrowed a deep hole in my psyche, as I realize now that I have attempted to play each piece on the album:

  • Funérailles (and later the rest of the Harmonies Poétiques et Religieuses)
  • Au bord d’une source (and later, the rest of the 1st year of the Années de Pelerinage)
  • that Valse oubliée (#1)
  • the Rakóczy March (identified that way because Horowitz was paraphrasing rather than sticking to the Hungarian Rhapsody)
  • Hungarian Rhapsody No. 6
  • Sonetto del Petrarca No. 104 (and later, the rest of the 2nd year of the Années de Pelerinage: and the 3rd year as well, which was a disappointment compared to the first two years)
  • Hungarian Rhapsody No2 (again with some free-form additions from Horowitz that I could never duplicate and had the good sense not to even attempt)

Most of the time I think of myself as a Canadian but there are times when I feel connected to the country where my family came from. Reading the poems of George Faludy, listening to Bartók or Kodaly, my heart swells with Hungarian national pride. And especially when I play Liszt, when I am hearing Horowitz playing Liszt: then I identify with the composer & virtuoso.

In each case I ruefully admit decades later that I was as totally under Horowitz’s influence as if he had been whispering instructions into my ear.

Flash forward to my recent trip to the library in 2019, finding a new edition of the four Valses oubliées, plural. While I had always known there were others besides that first one, I had never listened to the others, never encountered them, never seen the music. The new edition had a Preface dated 2010, the inscription for the new acquisition by the library was dated from the summer of 2011. Was this a project inspired at least partly by the Liszt bicentennial, I wondered?

Liszt was born Oct 22nd 1811
(a cool number when you think about it: 22-10-11),
on the cusp of Scorpio I suppose.

I had known even in childhood listening to Horowitz playing the #1 that this must be the first in a series if it was numbered.

4 valses oubliees cover

But this edition edited by Peter Jost takes me far deeper into the process of Liszt’s compositions, partly because I’m looking at the entire group of four forgotten waltzes, partly in response to an inspiring preface by Mária Eckhardt.

Eckhardt is co-president of the Liszt Society & a great authority on Liszt.

Pardon me if I stop for a moment to muse about those titles. Valses oubliées, or forgotten waltzes..? If we were hearing old tunes that had been forgotten, that might be odd enough. But when you listen to these pieces, Liszt is doing something else, resembling a stream of consciousness. The tunes are fragmentary, almost as though we’re seeing the process of remembering and forgetting writ large in the scores. We seem to capture the bits of a melody but can’t fully remember.

Look at that first one. I’m fond of Horowitz so why not play one of his wonderful performances, pushing the virtuosic envelope of the piece. It can be played slower (for instance, the way I play it…). We’re in a realm that’s asking questions, making some rhetorical gestures that don’t always lead to the usual slam-bang finish: as this is the late Liszt. He is a different man with a different understanding of his instrument, of virtuosity, of life itself.

Perhaps I should mention his life-changing accident, a fall leaving him wounded, unable to walk as easily, confronted with mortality once again after living to see two children die before him. The piano perhaps had now become something new, no longer a vehicle for effortless expression, but a mirror to mortality, disability. Did he experience pain while playing, I wonder?  But that doesn’t mean he wrote music that was easier to play.

And that’s just the first one.

Eckhardt’s Preface is illuminating. We read about his Romance oubliée published in 1881 in different versions, a work employing a melody Liszt had written decades before.

Liszt’s work on the Romance oubliée apparently provoked a strong emotional reaction within the nearly 70-year-old composer, for shortly thereafter, in the summer of 1881, he composed a valse oubliée. The piece was written after he had suffered a fall on the staircase of his Weimar residence on 2 July and was obliged to keep in his bed to eight weeks. During this time he had ample opportunity to reflect upon his life and works.…
“Oublié” (forgotten) became a kind of emblematic concept for the composer: it stood for remembrance and at the same time, for certain musical forms and genres that time had passed over…
While not disclaiming virtuosity or elegance, Liszt permeates the piece with nostalgia and irony, and alludes to the historical position of such pieces by embedding typical melodic and rhythmic formulae of the salon waltzes into an innovative, non-tonal framework that is characteristic of his late style. However, the romantic title page of the first edition, which is adorned with colouful flower, a sleeping genius,, musical instruments and a ribbon inscribed “Souvenir,” does little to convey this aspect of the music.

Eckhardt is being scholarly in confining her commentary to that which is certain. I like to speculate even if I don’t really  know.

Only the first has been performed so regularly as to become a familiar work. I don’t believe it’s because the other three are inferior. Perhaps they’re so quirky as to make themselves automatically obscure, the province of nerds & scholars.

I wonder though if we’ve really penetrated yet, as to how one properly plays these pieces. There’s room for whimsy & playfulness possibly something else that I haven’t imagined.

Here’s #2

I sense that the most important part of each of these compositions is in the final minute or two, the reflective passages that are still and soft, retrospective. Liszt contemplates life and virtuosity from a place where his body isn’t working quite so well, both as an older man and perhaps as one at least temporarily disabled by injury. Those bits of melody suggest a process of one grasping for fragments, reminding me of my poignant family encounters with dementia. Whether it’s the mind or the fingers or the body imposing limiting factors, the fragility of these creations grabs me, even if so far they haven’t become popular.

And here’s #3

The waltzes are quirky, at times reminding me of something you’d hear from a circus calliope, at other times as delicate as a memory in the mind’s eye. It’s not a big jump from here to the waltzes in Der Rosenkavalier, ranging from one key to another without worrying terribly about beginning middle & end. Maybe I’m asking too much, but I wish that an interpreter could make more of these madhouse variations (another phrase stuck in my head, as I recall a show from years ago).

And here’s #4, the shortest of the set.

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Vivaldi con amore

Posted on October 5, 2019 by barczablog

I have been listening to Tafelmusik’s first CD with their new music director Elisa Citterio Vivaldi con amore. The title tells you what to expect, a recording affectionate as a love-letter, a promise of great things to come.

Vivaldi_con_amore_cover

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve played through this lovely recording, a perfect companion as I drive home in rush-hour. You don’t mind traffic when you’re being kept company by Citterio, Cristina Zaccharias, Patricia Ahern & Geneviève Gilardeau (violins), Dominic Teresi (bassoon), John Abberger & Marco Cera (oboes), Lucas Harris (lute): just to name the soloists in the concerti, plus the Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra. So yes, this is a CD including concerti for lute, for two oboes, for bassoon, for 4 violins.

It’s a sign of the wonders on this recording that it functions as a kind of advocacy for the composer, arguing for his importance.

Do you like Vivaldi? You’ll adore this recording.

Not sure if you like Vivaldi? This recording will persuade you.

The energetic pieces make you want to dance. There’s joy throughout. When it’s slower you notice the beauty of your dashboard or the sun angling between the buildings as you cruise along in your car. There are some especially stunning moments. Vivaldi has a gift for melody, a very deep well overflowing with inventiveness & wit, bubbling over with life. If we think of the solos as a kind of discourse, their turns of phrase like conversation, we find bursts eloquence even though it’s non-verbal, a seductive invitation to surrender.

This is a perfect showcase for Tafelmusik, who sometimes seem to be an orchestra of virtuoso soloists. Everyone shines, many get a turn in the spotlight. Yet it’s a warm sunny glow, not a harsh glare, like a trip to Italy.

Who are Tafelmusik becoming? I pose the question only because they’ve been so amazing, one wonders what’s ahead, what happens to the chemistry with the contributions of Elisa Citterio. I’ve loved their work. Perhaps the best illustration I can give is to share this track from Tafelmusik’s recording House of Dreams, the slow movement from the D major lute concerto, played by Lucas Harris with Tafelmusik led by Jeanne Lamon.

Some might think of that as perfection, unsurpassable.

And so they undertake this marvelous lute concerto on the new Vivaldi CD, again featuring Harris’s luscious lute, Tafelmusik led this time by Citterio. It’s a bit faster I think. Dare I call it better? One doesn’t usually think about improving upon perfection, but I can’t stop listening to this track on the CD. Yes, I confess that when I really like a track I’ll listen to it over and over. Guilty.  No wonder I am hearing this in my head, especially Harris’s fluid elaborations. Wonderful as the earlier one was, the new one is breath-taking. Is Citterio perhaps adding a special something? I am not sure. But I’m glad that we can have both. We don’t have to choose. Lucky me, or more accurately, lucky Toronto.

Sorry you’ll have to get the CD to hear the new version of this movement. Trust me, you won’t regret getting it.

Vivaldi_back

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Robert Wilson’s Turandot

Posted on September 29, 2019 by barczablog

While the music is very much Puccini’s Turandot, a regular opera fan attending the premiere of the Canadian Opera Company’s new production might have trouble recognizing it. That’s why the headline proclaims it as Robert Wilson’s Turandot.

Two words lurk in my head at the moment.

The first is kitsch. Some critics have a problem with Puccini,  his popularity, his blatant sentimentality. If you love Puccini of course, you go see Butterfly or Boheme without a trace of guilt in your pleasures, and embrace the tears he pumps out of your eyes.

Robert Wilson’s Turandot seems to be meant as an answer to the kitsch, to the jerking of your tears. You won’t cry at this production.  It’s a modern work of art, the set & singers like a colossal installation a tableau with human puppets dodging the kitsch or any excessive emotion.

The other word is orientalism. Some people find operas such as Turandot problematic in their appropriation of folk music from China, the reproduction of cultural stereotypes. While I am not sure that this opera offends anyone, it’s especially intriguing to consider what the COC gave us.

  • The characters of Ping, Pang & Pong are renamed “Jim”, “Bob” and “Bill” ostensibly to fix this problem
  • A program note explains the rationale
  • Meanwhile, Wilson gave the three singers a movement vocabulary to rival Mickey Rooney’s outrageous performance in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, hopping and mugging and cavorting as though they were cliché figures.

Was this meant to be done with a knowing wink at the audience? Perhaps. I did hear a few weak titters of laughter. But I suspect that the result may have been even more offensive than the original. I’m the wrong person to ask, as I’m Hungarian.

But perhaps this show is safe from any sense of kitsch, genuinely modern and therefore not guilty of appropriation.

I can only shake my head at the predicament of the COC in the modern day, and their perpetual position of apology for the sins of past generations:

  • The defects of Louis Riel that led to apologies & corrective composition
  • The sins of emperor Hadrian that led to a bizarre conclusion to the opera we saw last year about that emperor, the scourge of the Jews
  • And tonight, a program note that would apologize for Ping Pang & Pong, renaming them: even as the surtitles and sung lines continued to identify them as before.

So no it’s not the Turandot you may know if you’re a conservative opera-goer. At the end when Calaf and The Princess sing together and he supposedly kisses her, they never get close enough for anything more than perhaps a blown kiss, a gesture. And as they sing she is radiant bright red in powerful lights while he languishes in the shadows, eventually disappearing into the crowd at the end. The surtitles say that Liu dies, but it’s again some sort of gestural thing. She walks about for awhile, as indeed the chorus expresses fear that her soul will haunt them. Is she haunting them? If so she’s doing so in the company of Timur, who is still alive.

But maybe the expectations of the usual opera audience aren’t relevant, not when we saw one of the youngest audiences I’ve seen coming out for a Canadian Opera Company premiere. And that bodes well, considering that the subscription audience for most of the performing arts companies in the GTA is getting older. They embraced this production, including big applause for Wilson at the end.

Pardon me if I sound like a conservative myself.  I laid out some of this conflict in the earlier piece I wrote about Turandot (and Wilson).  The person I was sitting with was fuming about what they felt had been done to the original.

Wilson’s minimalist aesthetic has its pros and cons.

Turandot’s first appearance is electrifying, the colours and stage composition matching the big orchestral climax.

And the opening of Act II is brilliant, as Ping Pang & Pong…
(sorry but I refuse to call them by names that aren’t sung in the performance… if Ping can sing “Ola Pang Ola Pong”, that’s good enough for me!)
…make more sense of this scene than usual, even as a couple of the usual cuts were restored. Ah but then again at this moment? the opera came closest to resembling what we see in other productions, diverging hardly at all from the usual.  So thank you for that crumb Mr Wilson. It is my favourite scene of the opera.

TURANDOT - CANADIAN OPERA COMPANY

Joseph Hu as Bill / Pong, Sergey Skorokhodov as Calaf, Julius Ahn as Bob / Pang, Adrian Timpau as Jim / Ping, in Act III of Turandot (photo: Michael Cooper)

Turandot is a messy opera about messy emotions. Wilson tidies it up considerably. The chorus stand still so that we can deal with the chorus in the abstract, and never mind if people don’t usually do that. Hey, people don’t usually sing either.  If you can buy the stylizations you’ll have a much happier experience. If you show up with stipulations & requirements, you’ll be frustrated.  No you don’t get the usual contact between characters. At times it resembles an oratorio. And I don’t say this as a consolation, but the musical side of this production is astonishingly good. You won’t hear it sung any better than this.

Tamara Wilson is in my second consecutive production where I am feeling sorry for her predicament. Just as her Desdemona was a standout in the Otello last season  (the best singer & actor onstage) so too this time.  Her vocalism is 99% of her role, as she gets very little opportunity to show us the usual character arc (so maybe I’m feeling sorry for myself? the production makes her character an even bigger mystery than usual).

Sergey Skorokhodov is a very capable Calaf, somewhat dry in tone but accurate. Again, we don’t get to see any evidence of character interaction, no opportunity to get terribly attached to our hero, as that might be too much kitsch for us to handle. No, Wilson saves us from that unhealthy sentiment.

Similarly Joyce El-Khoury sings an impeccable Liu, and David Leigh a strong Timur, even if nobody hugs or makes a real human gesture.

Adrian Timpau was a standout as Ping especially given that Wilson gave him & his cohorts (Julius Ahn as Pang, Joseph Hu as Pong) so much physical business & hopping about, in addition to some very challenging music.  They were superb throughout the evening.

To make matters even harder, conductor Carlo Rizzi is sometimes going very quickly. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. But this is tough music, especially for the trio that opens Act II. As far as I could tell Rizzi got perfect entrances from his soloists even while at times putting the pedal to the floor.

One of the intriguing subtexts is in watching Rizzi, a brilliant musician leading this production. One wonders what he’s thinking.

The COC chorus were wonderful both onstage & off.

Turandot continues at the Four Seasons Centre until October 27th.

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Imagining the unimaginable or why we need a #GlobalClimateStrike

Posted on September 27, 2019 by barczablog

I boarded this train of thought last week in preparation for church. I was the substitute music director in a Sunday without the choir, seeking joy while pondering darker thoughts.

I don’t pretend to know how I happened to be so preoccupied with music associated with water, only noticing it after the fact. But I played one of Mendelssohn’s Songs without Words titled “Venetianisches Gondellied”, which probably means “Song of the Venetian Gondolier”. It’s a stunning solemn piece that I first encountered in a comical transcription by Korngold in his film music for Reinhardt’s adaptation of A Midsummernight’s Dream (1935).

I’ve never been to Venice. It comes up as place of importance in the history of opera, a place of importance in the history of theatre, and currently: as a city facing the onslaught of nature.

Is it sinking?

And by a curious chain of unconscious association, I pulled out a piece by Claude Debussy that also suggests water. That’s not so unlikely when one recalls titles such as “Reflets dans l’eau” (reflections in the water) or “Poissons d’or” (fish of gold: more likely to be koi rather than goldfish), to give you two titles from a CD I’ve been listening to lately.

This one is another prelude, namely La Cathédrale engloutie or “the submerged cathedral.” I’ve played it in church before. I always understood it as a very moving piece that affirms something immortal. It’s program music as the piano tells a story based on various legends of a cathedral submerged off the coast of France. Whatever the legend might say, Debussy’s prelude suggests something mystical. It gets louder building to a climax that might signify the emergence of the cathedral from the water in all its glory, and then eventually fading until at the end we hear music coming to us as though from under water, a cathedral that’s submerged or engulfed in water.

In 2019 it’s a very troubling image.

I especially like this version from youtube, that shows us exactly how the composer wanted his piece to sound, a piano roll of Debussy himself playing the piece. That it’s faster than anyone else’s version, lacking the extra schmaltz that mars other performances, should by now be a clear indication of how the piece should be played.

What struck me this weekend in prep for the church service was something I’ve never really thought about before. At one time when the population of France was universally Catholic Christians the idea of a cathedral off-shore in the sea was just a quaint legend. But I see it in a different light this week, in context with #GlobalClimateStrike and the realization that not only are the oceans are rising, but I no longer have the confidence that I held as a small child, the certainty that human life will go on. In a world where oceans may inundate islands, cities, even whole civilizations (recalling the myth of Atlantis, suggesting that it’s part of our psychology & even our deepest fear): this isn’t just a quaint legend. The poignant sounds of the cathedral heard at the end as if from under the water become an apocalyptic forecast.

It never hit me before that this piece has a possible dark interpretation. The spirits and voices of that cathedral drift up to the surface, their songs persisting, living on in spite of the relentless sea. If we flash forward to a time when perhaps humanity is no longer so confident, no longer assured of survival, the piece takes on a totally different meaning. Is the song that floats up from underwater a remnant of humanity, spirits that live on in spite of rising sea levels?

That thought led me away from playing the Debussy this past Sunday, and instead to sing and play something more cheerful, namely “What a Wonderful World”. Everyone smiled afterwards.

And so there I was curating the music (as usual, as any music director does), reminded suddenly of music’s power to cheer us or terrify us, lull us or arouse us.  And so too with all the arts.

And so forgive me for raising some prickly questions. In a course I taught called “The Most Popular Operas,” we discussed  popularity, a troubling metric because it is not necessarily an indication of excellence. Would people rather listen to something sentimental that makes them smile, than something that might challenge them? Can humanity handle the truth, or do we prefer lullabies and sentimental songs?
I pose the question as I wonder if the arts have failed humanity as far as this whole question of climate change, opting to pander to public taste rather than to show us what we need to see.

I recall a film called Waterworld starring Kevin Costner, telling us about a future where the ice-caps had melted & the oceans had risen to cover the land. The film was a big-budget flop that lost money at the box-office. And so it was largely dismissed. At times like this –as I contemplate the way we seem to conflate and confuse the amount of money a film earns with its actual quality—I think Greta Thunberg is on to something when she said
“We are in the beginning of a mass extinction, and all you can talk about is money and fairy tales of eternal economic growth. How dare you!”

greta

Greta Thunberg (photo: AP)

Is the only value of Waterworld to be understood in how many dollars the film made for its producers? And please note, it’s just a commercial film & fictional and not to be understood as a treatise on anything like genuine truth.

But in fairness there are other films that have shown some of the effects of climate change and they’ve been far more successful. I’m thinking of the Mad Max series which show us a barren world that’s heating up. Where Waterworld is an expensive failure (again using the money-box office metric), the first Mad Max is one of the most astute & profitable films ever made, a cheap little film that made millions.

But Greta would still be growling at me, that we’re only looking at the $, not the meaning.

So let me ask for a moment, what role should the arts be playing?

There is a group on Facebook called Artists for Real Climate Action (or ARCA). It’s an interesting group that I’ve joined, who are aiming to be active in protests such as the #GlobalClimateStrike that’s on Friday Sept 27th. And perhaps that’s the best thing artists can do.

Perhaps it’s late to be talking about this, but I was thinking of something else. I grew up at a time when I believed in the power of music to change the world, listening to the songs of John Lennon and Bob Dylan. I believed in the relevance if not outright activism in the arts, of the power of the arts to persuade & mobilize public opinion.

It’s a troubling thought when you contemplate creations to reflect our scary future, to hold up a mirror in whatever medium rather than merely aiming to lull or entertain. Can one entertain while in some respect telling the truth about climate change? Or in other words, will anyone listen? Perhaps if we go into something like science fiction, or even horror, the audience will be there.

That truth includes the recognition of how lucky we are in places such as Canada or Sweden (as Greta reminds us), not yet as hot, not yet inundated. That truth includes a future with refugees fleeing their disasters and coming to us.

I see at least two possible avenues for exploration, at least as a blogger who sees mostly classical concerts & theatre performances:
1) Original work
2) Adaptations of existing works

I leave #1 for those who have ideas of how to demonstrate the crisis of our time in the portrayal of the climate emergency or in human responses.  But #2 might be a more commercial pathway, if one imagines employing existing works given an extra spin by directors or adaptors. Just off the top of my head I can think of a few works that already have overtones of ecology & sustainability in their storyline that could become vehicles for at least some politics.

  • Debussy’s opera Pelléas et Mélisande includes scenes that already suggest ecological disaster. Set in “Allemond” (a name to suggest the whole world), it is of the type of the symbolist dead city, with hints that the waters underneath are poisoned, that there are paupers struggling to survive in the vicinity (ignored by the personages of the opera)
  • Rusalka, coming up on the stage of the Canadian Opera Company this fall, tells a fairy-tale of a mermaid who pays a high price to come ashore among humanity, while showing us an unimpressive image of that humanity. It’s not much of a stretch to imagine sets to suggest that this world is out of balance with nature.
  • Wagner’s Ring Cycle, a story suggesting the betrayal of nature, might be the ideal vehicle. It has already been staged to suggest something ecological in Harry Kupfer’s staging at the Bayreuth festival back in the 1980s, and more recently in Francesca Zambello’s production in the USA.
  • King Lear is one of several Shakespeare plays where the weather plays a prominent role, that can be steered towards something more pointed as far as climate change. If you google “ecocriticism Lear” you’ll see that there’s already a conversation underway
  • And the same is true of some film, where you might google “ecocriticism film”.

Meanwhile many doubt that the crisis is real. I see the same effect in the arts that I see on CNN, where we bring our political baggage into the theatre, showing up with our prejudices & positions intact.  For those of us who are believers, our beliefs are reinforced while others are not persuaded.  Surely the arts have a role to play in persuasion, which brings you back to the headline (please re-read it).

I wonder how the story will play out in the world, how bad it will get, but also, how the story will be signified in film & theatre, and how hearts & minds will respond.  We live in interesting times.

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals, Opera, Personal ruminations & essays, Politics, Spirituality & Religion | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Amplified Opera: interviewing Teiya Kasahara and Aria Umezawa

Posted on September 26, 2019 by barczablog

I have huge admiration for the two artists behind Amplified Opera (aka AO), namely Aria Umezawa and Teiya Kasahara, a new opera company.

Aria directed L’hiver attend beaucoup de moi in March.

Teiya was larger than life singing in Pomegranate in June.

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Teiya Kasahara in Pomegranate (photo: Dahlia Katz)

AO will mean opportunities to see & hear more of them.

Here’s how they describe themselves on their website.

IT MAY BE CONSIDERED A DIRTY WORD IN OPERA, BUT WE BELIEVE GREAT ART SHOULDN’T BE AFRAID TO

GET LOUD

Raise your voice and be Amplified!

As far as I can tell AO are all about Inclusion. Diversity. Empowerment.

Amplified Opera’s first concert series “AMPLIFY” launches the company October 10, 11 and 12, 7:30 pm at the Ernest Balmer Studio.

big_image_Photo Credit Acme Art and Design and Michael Barker Photography

I asked Teiya & Aria a series of questions to find out more.

Barczablog: Describe the pathway that brought you two –Aria & Teiya—together and led you to this collaboration.

TEIYA: In 2017 Aria and I met for coffee and ice cream to catch up. And I was telling her about my frustrations with auditioning. I wasn’t booking gigs at the time, and on top of that, I was uncomfortable because I was wearing dresses to auditions and trying to present myself in a way that is expected of a soprano.

ARIA: I remember asking Teiya how much energy they were spending thinking about their singing, and how much energy they were spending on how uncomfortable they were in the outfits they were wearing.

TEIYA: And I was like, “Most of my energy is on how I’m dressed.”

ARIA: And I was like, “Teiya. Newsflash. You’re not getting hired now, so what do you have to lose? Why not try expressing yourself in a way that feels honest?”

TEIYA: And that really shifted my thinking. I think in that moment, I think we both saw in each other that there was a spark, and that we wanted something more with our professional paths. There had been moments in each of our lives where had been talking about how to rethink the artform, and it was like, “Wow! There’s something here.” So we began talking about a new type of performance art company where we would start by thinking about what we as artists want, and then expand that to give space for others to tell their stories on their own terms.

ARIA: Could we find a more authentic way to resonate with audiences if empowered artists brought their authentic selves to the process?

Barczablog: Please amplify for us the connotations of the word “Amplify” that underlie the name of your organization “Amplified Opera (AO),” and of your first series of concerts, titled “AMPLIFY!”

ARIA:  My good friend, Sean Waugh at SFO, suggested the name Amplified Opera for a couple of reasons. First, because opera takes great pride in being UN-amplified, so for a company that is trying to shake things up and disrupt the current landscape, it is a deliberately provocative name. Second, because the entire artform is built on showcasing the beauty and power of the human voice, yet we seldom let our artists truly speak their minds.

TEIYA: We want for ourselves, as leaders of this initiative, to really give energy and power into these stories that have been systematically oppressed and pushed to the margins. They’re just blips on our radar. There are so many other stories that aren’t cis, or white, or hetero, or able-bodied that are valuable in knowing and sharing, and we want to tell them loudly, and to give them more life and longevity.

ARIA: While the point of the name is not meant to be taken literally, we’re not particularly hung up on acoustic amplification or non-amplification. We just want to focus on telling stories loudly, and authentically – whatever that means to the artists we work with.

aria photocredit Hayley Andoff Photography

Aria Umezawa (Hayley Andoff Photography)

Barczablog: How do the politics of race & the tensions in the world serve as subtext for your shows, the context for AO? What do you presuppose in your Toronto audience and our anxieties about the world?

TEIYA: I don’t think we want racial tension as a subtext… I think it’s our foretext. We want to put those tensions front and center, and we want to lean into these uncomfortable conversations and highlight them. These conversations will become less difficult the more we have them.

ARIA: One of our artists, Michael Mohammed (who is directing “What’s Known to Me Is Endless”) sent me an article on the idea of Brave Spaces in the world of social justice. The very basic idea being that we need to draw a distinction between harm (which is destructive), and discomfort (which is instructive). We want to hold space for people to have uncomfortable conversations, so they can have opportunities to expand their understanding and gain empathy. What we assume about Toronto audiences is that they are ready and interested in fostering this kind of dialogue.

Barczablog: Let’s talk about the problem with representation in opera… Sexism, imperialism, focus on the 1st world: Are you aiming more for new work as opposed to inclusive productions of existing work..?

TEIYA: Both really. The Canon is wrought in sexism, imperialism, elitism, racism, ableism, the list goes on. In no way is our society of today reflected in these iconic works, yet we continue to put them on. The rise in “Regie-Theater” over the last few decades has shown us that we need a more diverse representation not only in producers and directors and of reimagining these old operas in new ways, but to also create more conversation surrounding why we are putting on these shows, what value a new concept of an old work can give us. Simply doing it because a director or company wants to isn’t a valid enough reason anymore.

New works also need to be better nurtured and given more time, resources, promotion and care going forward. Having a premiere and then being forgotten months later isn’t doing this industry nor for our decreasing audiences.

Representation really needs to start with the artists embracing their inherent agency. They are the face of opera, they are what everyone sees, so if they start to realize that they have a say, that they can use their voices in more ways than one, then we will also start to see change. We need to see this at the top, too, people who are making the big decisions, where money is allocated, who is being hired and what is being put on the stages. It all effects each other.

Version 3

Teiya Kasahara

Barczablog: Are there political subjects missing from the operatic stage (for instance, an opera about climate change or being a refugee)..?

ARIA: We’re starting to see contemporary issues explored on operatic stages, (companies like Heartbeat Opera, Beth Morrison Projects, and the Prix 3 Femmes are doing that really well), but there could always be more. Opera is an artform about the power and abilities of the human voice. So we have these big, powerful voices but what are we doing with them? What are we saying? How are we enriching our communities by existing? How can we use the power of our voices to elevate those issues that are critical to humanity’s/society’s survival? I think in the broadest possible sense, opera is failing to communicate a genuine value to society because we have not landed on a good reason for existing. What can the world learn from opera that would help us to frame some of these crucial, political conversations?

Barczablog: Do you see yourselves representing or offering a pathway to those who are in some sense less able?

TEIYA: I think both being able-bodied people, we don’t begin to know what to offer those differently or less abled, but want to invite conversation to create opportunities for collaboration down the road. We started with people that we know already navigating the opera industry despite their perceived challenges, so with AMPLIFY this is where we are starting and we are excited to create more relationships with those folk within (that we don’t know of yet) and beyond the opera community to create bridges and share experiences, for example the Deaf community.

ARIA: The position we take at AO is not diversity for diversity’s sake. It’s diversity because people who have unique experiences tell unique stories, and those stories are valuable and worthy of sharing with the public. We want to know of all our artists: what leaps out at you about this artform that I miss because I don’t have the same lived experiences as you, and how can we use those insights to build a better society?

Barczablog: And how do you reconcile opera to virtuosity, which is often a showcase for showing an audience what the performer can do that the audience can’t.

TEIYA: I think it’s about broadening the definition of virtuosity, or excellence, or even genius. We need to recognize that these concepts are derived from a Eurocentric mindset that is steeped in a history of colonization and imperialism which only exists to the detriment of others.

ARIA: I agree with Teiya.  In many ways, I feel we’ve weaponized virtuosity as a means of keeping certain groups of people off the stage, away from the podium, and out of the director’s chair. Virtuosity often refers to a technical precision that requires a great investment of resources: education, mentorship, and legitimization from the establishment. Certain communities have much greater difficulty accessing those resources – particularly those crucial mentorship opportunities, and the legitimization that comes from appearing on the world’s greatest stages. In many of these cases diverse talent already exists, but it’s seldom given a platform.  So opera prioritizes so-called virtuosity, and in doing so, limits the types of people who have access to opera as a means of expression, and downplays the role that visibility will play in ensuring a contemporary value for our artform.

I think AO is trying to take two positions: First of all that virtuosity and inclusivity are not mutually exclusive terms. They can co-exist in the same artist, performance, or production. And second that art’s value to society is that it holds space for spectators to engage with profoundly emotional topics in both the beautiful and devastating sense. We will prioritize resonating with audiences, regardless of their background in opera, and will encourage our artists to push themselves to achieve new ways of connecting with people – whatever shape that takes.

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Aria Umezawa

Barczablog: Are you open to going beyond opera, for instance to musicals, spoken word, and dance?

ARIA: AO is about breaking things apart. About challenging the existing structures, and proposing new ways of moving forward. I think everything is up for debate. What is opera? What does that mean exactly? I think if we seek to answer those questions, we will naturally open ourselves up to many different mediums through our exploration.

TEIYA: Yes, we want to start with what we know, but we’ve both personally experienced the benefits of diversifying our practices and bringing together disciplines. Opera is supposed to be a culmination of all the artistic practices, but it still operates as a siloed discipline. There is rarely any allowance made for this holistic concept of singer and actor in one person for instance. Singers are known for “park-and-bark”, or for being wooden, etc. Yes, the vocal line must express the emotion, the sub-text, but there is also room for more.

Barczablog: Please talk about your performers: will you be inclusive or are you aiming to redress the balance, showcase persons of colour, and other groups who are under-represented.

ARIA: We will strive to walk-the-walk of inclusivity at AO, and we understand that that means we will have to engage with artists and audience members who may not share our views, and that is going to feel uncomfortable for us. We need some time to figure out how to frame those partnerships so that navigating that conversation benefits not only ourselves, or the artist, but the public.

TEIYA: We are definitely starting our initiative with artists from equity-seeking groups who have systematically been overlooked and who identify with groups who have faced tremendous barriers for years to be able to participate in this artform at the same level as predominantly white privileged folk, so that’s where we are starting. But by no means are we going to not include white artists. We pride ourselves on creating an environment on all levels of operating AO that is respectful, and inclusive. 

Barczablog: Is it too early to ask you about possible future commissions, whether among librettists & composers from the under-represented constituency OR in the content,  stories that might encourage your visibility and representing you in new works..?

TEIYA: Our mission, values and goals for AO is wanting to fill in the gaps of the industry – we hope that with AMPLIFY it will act as springboard for AO to grow its network in helping and serving artists, especially those of equity-seeking groups.

ARIA: I think if we identify a need, we’ll fill it, but for now we’ve observed that we have some amazing colleagues producing some impactful pieces across the country. No immediate plans for new works, but it’s absolutely on the table.

Barczablog: Do you anticipate to be funded and to identify donors from among the population you represent

TEIYA: Yes, and no. We hope that people who don’t identify from equity-seeking groups will see the value in the work we are doing with AO.another_logo

ARIA: I think that’s what it is really about. We believe there is value in the work we’re doing that extends beyond diversity for diversity’s sake. It’s diversity because when you engage with ideas that feel uncomfortable or foreign you stand to benefit from the insights, learning, and growth that accompany that discomfort. Sure, there will be a value for those who love opera (the chance to see new, extraordinary artists you may have otherwise overlooked), and there will be a value to our communities (the space and trust to find their authentic voice within the operatic medium), but there is a value to those who don’t appear to have any skin in the game as well.

Barczablog: Are you considering venues to perform among your target population: to show them what they’re missing, perhaps to get them on board?

ARIA: I think I would offer a reframe of that question, and say that we intend to engage with many communities, not so we can show them what they’re missing, but so that we can listen to them, and learn how we can better serve them.

TEIYA:. We hope that a large number of our projects going forward will be co-productions, in association with, in consultation with, etc. We want to work with existing frameworks and help better support them, not simply create something new on our own.

Barczablog: Is there anyone you can identify who has inspired this mission or energized you to start AO?

TEIYA: So many of our colleagues like Michael Mori and Jaime Martino at Tapestry Opera, artists and leaders in the Theatre community have been inspirations to us over the years: forging ahead to make opera relevant again. There’s a need for so many artists within the industry who are incredibly talented but aren’t getting the opportunities or support that others have, and I think without them, there wouldn’t have been a need to start AO. But our time is crucial. People are starting to voice their truth and people are starting to listen, and we are excited to help make that happen for people in opera!

ARIA: Honestly? Teiya inspired me. Beyond that, Laurie, Kenneth, Rich, Liz, Andrea, Trevor, and Michael inspired me. My colleagues in the Indie Opera Community inspired me. The people I met in San Francisco: Sean Waugh, the singers, administrators, directors, production staff, audience members and donors inspired me. We give ourselves a lot of grief, but there are so many thoughtful, passionate people who have a vision for an opera industry that is innovative, progressive, and inclusive. They are looking for a way forward, and we want to join the exploration team!

Barczablog: Thank you!

*******

For its inaugural series, AO is presenting three concerts:

laurie1

Mezzo-soprano Laurie Rubin

1-October 10, 2019: The Way I See It American mezzo-soprano and author Laurie Rubin (Do You Dream in Color: Insights from a Girl Without Sight), and pianist Liz Upchurch will speak to their unique experiences as individuals with blindness and vision loss navigating the world of opera, and how this element of their identity has informed their creative process. The concert will be directed by Aria Umezawa.

2-October 11, 2019: The Queen in Me An exploration of the ways in which the classical music world tries to control and limit queerness, gender expressions, and identities. This one-person show features soprano Teiya Kasahara as the Queen of the Night who, after 228 years, has finally decided to reclaim their narrative and challenge the patriarchy. The show is accompanied by Trevor Chartrand, and directed by Andrea Donaldson.

liz2

Pianist, vocal coach and pedagogue Liz Upchurch

3-October 12, 2019: What’s Known to Me is Endless A look at the African diaspora, and how experiences of Black identity differ in Canada and the United States. African American baritone Kenneth Overton is joined by Canadian pianist Rich Coburn to speak to how their understanding of Black identity was challenged while working on both sides of the Canadian-US border. Canadian American, Michael Mohammed, will direct the show.

overton2

Baritone Kenneth Overton

Each evening will feature a lecture-recital followed by a talk-back panel with the artists and guest speakers, to give audience members a chance to further explore the themes discussed in each concert. Talk-back panels will be curated and hosted by Margaret Cormier. Audience Activation Points around the venue will be designed by Matthew Vaile, and will create a more interactive experience.

Amplified Opera Concert Series: AMPLIFY!
October 10, 2019 @ 7:30 – The Way I See It
October 11, 2019 @ 7:30 – The Queen in Me
October 12, 2019 @ 7:30 – What’s Known to Me is Endless

Ernest Balmer Studio, 9 Trinity Street Tickets:
$25 at door, or online at www.amplifiedopera.com
More information: www.amplifiedopera.com

Posted in Interviews, Music and musicology, Opera, Politics | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Book of Life

Posted on September 22, 2019 by barczablog

I needed that.

The Book of Life, a Volcano Production in association with the Woman Cultural Centre, Rwanda, and Why Not Theatre, is currently running at the Berkeley St Theatre, presented by Canadian Stage.

I came into this show wondering meekly, how does one open one’s mouth to discuss the unspeakable, how does one depict the unthinkable? For dramatists who ponder such questions, The Book of Life has more than a few answers.

We’re taken to a relatively blank space that might be a psychiatrist’s office, except we’re not in the presence of a shrink. Instead it’s storyteller Odile Gakire “Kiki” Katese, the performer, writer & co-creator of Book of Life.

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Kiki Katese (photo: Dahlia Katz)

Look around. The world needs therapy. Canada has had its TRC and its report on MMIWG, yet one who would-be Prime Minister denies that the latter was a genocide. The events in the former Yugoslavia, in Germany, in Turkey are all since the killing in the Americas.

As someone who spent some time in therapy, some time studying to be a therapist, and as a creator in the theatre, I’ve long noticed the overlap, that art is therapeutic, that artists can be like therapists even as we sometimes are struggling with our own healing.
Pain can make one an expert in healing. I think that’s clearer to me after Robin Williams’ example.

If Kiki ever tires of telling her story or convening her colleagues at rehearsals of Ingoma Nshya (aka the women drummers of Rwanda), I think she would make an excellent therapist.

Book of Life is stories and music and visuals, plus a little bit of activity getting the audience to participate.

blank_page

I won’t spoil it by telling you too much, but I think you will love this part of the show: where you use your pencil.

When I discussed it afterwards with my seat-mate, we found it had been extraordinarily rich in encouraging us to remember family, aiding our memories while emphasizing something fun.  The conversation was magical.

I had thought the Rwandan genocide too bleak, too upsetting, and came to this show balancing trepidation with hope. And I feel I was rewarded by a wonderfully positive experience.

The Book of Life runs at the Berkeley St. Theatre until Sept 29th. You should check it out.

Posted in Dance, theatre & musicals, Politics, Reviews | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Tafelmusik meets Tchaikovsky

Posted on September 21, 2019 by barczablog

Finally!

After waiting for decades Tafelmusik’s concert program tonight with works by Tchaikovsky & Mendelssohn plus a brand new composition felt like a political statement. Already last year led by their new Music Director Elisa Citterio, we were experiencing a higher standard both in the programming and the playing.

And tonight’s amazing concert set the bar even higher.

Tafelmusik Meets Tchaikovsky_Seanna Kennedy Photography1

Tafelmusik Meets Tchaikovsky (photo: Seanna Kennedy)

I can’t be alone in this perception. Since the 1980s we’ve been hearing historically informed performances of works from the 19th century. But Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra have mostly stayed true to their name, rarely venturing past the year 1800.  The thing is, an ensemble can just play a piece without care, or it can investigate what that style requires.  It would be an experiment, but then again: all performances from any ensemble represent a kind of experiment. Citterio is balancing the need for studious care in preparation with a boldness to  confidently take on any music.

Tonight felt like a coming out, as Citterio and the orchestra seemed to lay claim to this music, which sounded so exquisite tonight. I hope they’ll record the works we heard tonight, all for strings:

  • Mendelssohn Sinfoniesatz
  • Mendelssohn Symphony for strings #7
  • Scherzo from A Midsummernight’s Dream arranged for strings
    Intermission
  • Balfour Pyotr’s Dream (world premiere)
  • Tchaikovky Serenade for strings

For Tafelmusik this was a daring venture, and one that I hope they will repeat. It’s funny, while last night I watched a Canadian premiere from the Toronto Symphony, tonight’s concert of works from the 19th century (plus a short world premiere) set more of a precedent, represented a bigger paradigm shift. In a real sense it was new, as they ventured closer to the present day than ever before.

Yes the first half of the concert was wonderful, a series of pieces by Mendelssohn. It struck me as funny as I listened that so much of the Mendelssohn seemed typical for Tafelmusik, given his propensity for counterpoint, a funny cross between Mozart & Bach that shouldn’t bother a Tafelmusik subscriber. The d-minor string symphony #7 is a four movement work that builds in intensity as it goes along. The third movement Menuetto & Trio was especially powerful, at times employing a kind of call & response across the stage between the violins & violas, the phrases so energetic that the stage seemed to come alive with the exchanges of vivid bowings back and forth. This movement was repeated as an encore at the end of the concert in response to our enthusiastic cheers. The fourth movement too was a wild ride, with at times a fragment of melody from section to section.

To conclude the first half Citterio turned to her brother Carlo Citterio for an original transcription for string orchestra of the Scherzo from Mendelssohn’s incidental music for A Midsummernight’s Dream. It’s especially apt when we recall the propensity of composers of the romantic era to transcribe and paraphrase, whether we recall Rachmaninoff’s piano version or Korngold’s more Wagnerian take on the piece in Max Reinhardt’s film from 1935. Elisa Citterio chose a quick tempo that brought the faeries vividly to life.

After intermission we heard a commission that set up the Tchaikovsky nicely. Andrew Balfour’s intriguing Pyotr’s Dream didn’t sound out of place sharing the bill with Mendelssohn & Tchaikovsky, a soulful work at times reminding me of the Barber Adagio in its elegiac weight. It managed to be melodic even while employing second-intervals to create momentary dissonances, an intriguing combination that lent the work true gravitas.

And then the piece we were all waiting for, that gave the evening its title after all, surpassed expectations. Citterio led a reading bursting with confidence, the players often bursting into smiles. You think you know a piece, the melodies running through your head: yet you experience surprise & novelty. The delicate sound of this orchestra’s players lent a new colour to Tchaikovsky that is after all nothing more than the way he must have sounded in his time when the work first appeared. There’s a great excitement in exploring that, to feel you’re in the presence of something new. After the stately processional figure that opens the work, for the most part the tempi were quicker than usual, yet with no loss of accuracy in the playing. I’m filled with confidence for this ensemble.  I feel they can play anything, and hope they’ll give us more of the 19th century.

If they’re reading this, I’m happy to make suggestions.

  • How about the whole suite from A Midsummernight’s Dream?
  • More Schubert, for instance his 9th symphony
  • Anything by Berlioz, for example Harold in Italy (a favorite of mine)
  • Anything by Schumann

I could go on. The point is, I think Citterio has the right idea. Tafelmusik are laying claim to music that sounds extra-special on their instruments with the benefit of their special scholarly insights. And tonight the audience was younger than usual. Is that a coincidence?  I think this is the way to go for the future, broadening their appeal.

This wonderful concert would make a great recording. But for now if you want to hear this remarkable program, you still have a couple of chances to hear Mendelssohn, Tchaikovsky & Balfour Saturday & Sunday at Koerner Hall.

Posted in Music and musicology, Reviews | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Dynamic Duo: Hannigan & Storgårds

Posted on September 20, 2019 by barczablog

The Toronto Symphony’s opening concert welcomed the “dynamic duo”, soprano Barbara Hannigan and violinist John Storgårds. Each did some conducting, and each took a turn as a soloist. While it was not a long evening it felt like a lot to digest perhaps because so many food groups were represented.

Did you ever dream of singing with Barbara Hannigan? Mission accomplished. Hannigan led us in “Oh Canada”, beginning unaccompanied then asking us to join her with the orchestra completing the ensemble partway through. If you come to the concert Saturday night you can have the same thrill, and that’s just the first couple of minutes.

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Soprano Barbara Hannigan, singing & conducting the Toronto Symphony a few months ago. (photo: Jag Gundu)

For me the highlights were after intermission although there was lots of music before.

  • Beethoven Egmont Overture
  • Dutilleux Sur le même accord: Nocturne for Violin and Orchestra
  • Haydn Symphony No. 96 in D Major “Miracle”
    Intermission
  • Brett Dean And once I played Ophelia for String Orchestra and Soprano (Canadian Première)
  • Sibelius Symphony No. 3
MJ-hi-res

Matthew Jocelyn

Sometimes I prepare for a concert by reading the program notes over, other times I come in unprepared to see how it all hits me. I chose the latter approach for better or worse.
This is especially relevant to Hannigan performing Brett Dean’s piece, a kind of gloss on Hamlet with libretto by Matthew Jocelyn. You may remember Dean for his work curating the TSO’s 2016 New Creations Festival.

You may remember Jocelyn as director of the opera Julie presented in 2015 by Canadian Stage where as Artistic Director he imprinted a multi-disciplinarity into their programming that I’ve found irresistible and that appears to have become their brand, even with his successor.

One can listen with one’s head buried in the program to follow the libretto: and as a result be unable to see the singer or the orchestra. I chose to attempt to follow without the program, watching and listening as well as I could. I’ve said it before and I am saying it again. Come on TSO / Roy Thomson Hall, isn’t it about time you had surtitles projected, the way even Bill Shookhoff manages in his tiny company Opera by Request? Don’t force me to choose between intelligibility and watching a talented actor like Hannigan. Can’t I have both? I saw Alexander Neef of the COC in the audience, where they’ve had surtitles since the 1980s.

The program (where the text is printed) says “Please turn page quietly.”  Surtitles would be even quieter.

The first frenetic minutes of this piece are a compelling beginning, as our Ophelia sings words that were directed at her rather than her own lines, the “get thee to a nunnery” lines sung and then fragmented into bits, sounding genuinely mad. Hannigan physically & vocally gave me something of Ophelia that I’ve never seen before, a kind of disabled and wrecked personage. From there we retreated into something so much softer, I wondered how Dean scored it; how many p’s did he dictate for this amazingly soft texture? We went from a frenzied sound to something suggesting a recollection, as though from afar or from the other side of the barrier between madness & sanity.  Perhaps we’re inside her head (where it seems sane)? The super soft harmonic texture of the strings allowed Hannigan to sing easily, where the first part was much harder to understand. This is a beautiful piece of music to interest anyone intrigued by the Shakespeare or by the possibilities of the human voice.

John Storgårds conducted the works after intermission, both the Dean sung by Hannigan followed by the Sibelius 3rd Symphony. I wonder sometimes what conditions a conductor’s style, what leads them to their particular approach. Storgårds is a violinist whose approach seems very different from Hannigan, persuading the TSO to play very softly with wonderful solos emerging throughout. The TSO responded to him in both works. The Sibelius was built from the inside out, transparent in texture, energetic and committed, as every player seemed to bring their “A game”.

Before intermission we heard Hannigan leading older classical repertoire surrounding Storgårds as soloist in the Dutilleux, a wonderfully angular piece, deconstructing and analysing a pattern of notes over and over. I will have to listen to it again. Before it we heard the Egmont overture of Beethoven in a reading playing up rhetorical phrases & dramatic effects, from the dreamy and thoughtful to the bombastic and revolutionary. And after we then heard a wonderfully idiomatic reading of Hadyn’s Symphony #96. Maybe I read too much into Hannigan’s presence (that champion of new musics), but at times the Haydn felt very new, almost inevitable in its organic unfolding.

The concert will be repeated Saturday September 21st.

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Les sons et les parfums…

Posted on September 15, 2019 by barczablog

Janina Fialkowska has made a delightful new recording of French piano music titled “Les sons et les parfums…”

You might know that phrase from Baudelaire’s Fleurs du mal, in a wonderfully evocative poem “Harmonie du soir”, where music is as fundamental to the evening as a sunset or the air we breathe.  Recalling Walter Pater’s famous saying that “all art aspires to the condition of music”, this poem is practically a sermon, both an invitation & an exhortation.  Of course it’s an uncommon title for an album, perhaps an indication that this is a change of direction for Fialkowska, who I know mostly as an interpreter of Chopin, Liszt, and eastern Europeans with some ventures into German rep.

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But I couldn’t help noticing how the opening cut sounded like something Chopin would have written, an easy-going Impromptu by Tailleferre that put me in mind of Chopin’s A-flat Impromptu, with its flowing lyricism. Did Fialkowska mean to open as though making a segue from Chopin into the French rep? Or maybe it’s all in my mind. But of course Chopin himself is a perfect bridge, an exile from Poland who was after all half French. Tailleferre’s easy & melodic textures open the doorway in the gentlest way for what’s to come.

But the liner notes suggest that this is if anything a sentimental journey for the pianist, familiar rep from the past that she has played many times in the past. Perhaps it’s who she has always been even if the French pieces can’t be found in her discography.

Better late than never..!

It’s a fascinating and well-conceived survey that brings us into the 20th century from the final decades of the 19th.

  • Impromptu by Germaine Tailleferre
  • Nocturne #4 by Gabriel Fauré
  • Intermezzo by Francis Poulenc
  • Habanera by Emmanuel Chabrier
  • Poissons d’or by Claude Debussy
  • Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir by Claude Debussy
  • Reflets dans l’eau by Claude Debussy
  • Clair de lune by Claude Debussy
  • Jeux d’eau by Maurice Ravel
  • Sonatine by Maurice Ravel

If these works are not well-known to you, the album will persuade you of their importance, very easy to listen to.  There’s variety even though they hang together like a well-curated exhibit of art by several painters.

Fialkowska’s sound is very clear, mostly sparing in the use of the pedal, without any noticeable blur even when many notes are being sounded, as transparent & sparkling as a clean aquarium full of koi.   For the most part this sounds very relaxed, without the kind of drama one associates with virtuoso display. We’re hearing a pianist who is so self-assured that she gets inside the music. The water pieces by Ravel & Debussy have lots of atmospheric effects, decisively coloured and yet ultimately very calm & tranquil. This is pianism of the highest order without struggle or conflict.

I will resist the temptation to use the “I” word that is so often used when speaking of Ravel & Debussy, a descriptor imported from the realm of painting. I don’t use the word because I believe it’s misapplied when speaking of Debussy, and likely as well with Ravel. These evocative compositions conjure visual images of water & fish & moonlight in Fialkowska’s interpretations. If you find it helpful to think of the painterly qualities of music in this period, especially if it reminds you of the colours & effects found in paintings by Renoir or Monet, then by all means, seize the association. However you choose to understand the music, you’ll hear confident and accurate playing inviting you to an encounter of warmth and tenderness.

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