Vaughan Williams recording: a joyful valedictory for Oundjian

The last month of Peter Oundjian’s tenure with the Toronto Symphony is unfolding as a celebration.  We’re partway through a series of concerts, with three more programs to come in the next fortnight.

In addition Chandos have released a TSO recording that in some ways epitomizes everything Oundjian stands for. It’s English music but performed by Canadians, a young group of soloists, including some of the talented players recruited & mentored by Oundjian.

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I understand that the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams is a special favourite of Oundjian:

  • Serenade to Music, for Four Soloists, Chorus, and Orchestra (1938)
  • Concerto for Oboe & Strings (1944)
  • Flos Campi , Suite for Solo Viola, Small Chorus and Small Orchestra (1924-25)
  • Concerto, for Piano and Orchestra (1926-31)

While the four works are varied, they all serve to show off the exquisite sound of a TSO that Oundjian built & trained.

The Serenade to Music is a sensual delight, and as with most of Vaughan Williams output, takes us to a more tuneful & tonal place than what most of his contemporaries were producing.  The Serenade might have been written in the 19th century for its lush tonal palette, a hymn to romance and romantic music itself.  The Elmer Iseler Singers are quicksilver, fluid as breezes and sunshine illuminating the score from within, seemingly effortless.

The Oboe Concerto, composed during the Second World War, came from a composer likely seeking to uplift & inspire, as that’s how this music hits me. It takes us in a more playful & whimsical direction, suggesting a more vulnerable aspect to the composer, both in the achingly beautiful solos from Sarah Jeffrey, and in the textures that surround or answer her oboe.

Flos Campi (or “Flower of the field”) is arguably one of Vaughan Williams very best works.  The inspiration is the Songs of Songs, that most sensual part of the Bible.  Whether you choose to read this as something devotional or just plain sexy, I think your ear will be ravished one way or another, the TSO’s principal viola Teng Li teaming with the Iseler Singers again.

Finally the most surprising piece for me is the concluding Piano Concerto.  It doesn’t sound like the Vaughan Williams I thought I knew.   I’ll have to take the score out of the library to get inside the piece.  The liner notes suggest the influence of Busoni’s Bach transcriptions, which certainly suggests something on the very boundaries of what’s playable: yet I would never have guessed, listening to the ease with which Louis Lortie plays it. There are places that are lyrical, but also places that are more percussive, with a genuine ferocity.

Throughout, the TSO are at the service of the composer & the conductor, a joyful valedictory for Oundjian.  To obtain or download the recording click here.

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Oundjian and TSO: the long goodbye

It was the first in a series of concerts for the month-long celebration of Peter Oundjian’s achievement with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra, as he finishes his fourteen year tenure as music director.  In his introduction Oundjian explained some of the rationale for the program, as though in some respect these concerts tell a story.

“Peter Oundjian: this is your life.”

Or so it seemed as he told us some of his connections to the Bernstein, the Gershwin and the Brahms on the program.  We heard a charmingly funny horror story about Herbert von Karajan from his student days at Juilliard, pushed into a conductor’s role for a movement of the symphony we heard tonight, complete with the obligatory imitation of the great man.

It was the perfect preamble, something I will miss when he’s gone. Oundjian has a wonderfully collegial manner at the microphone, a generous teacher & mentor without much evident ego getting in the way.

We heard the TSO in three works:

  • Three Dance Variations from Fancy Free by Leonard Bernstein
  • The piano concerto in F by George Gershwin
  • Johannes Brahms’ 1st Symphony in C Minor

It’s an odd sort of thing, this business of celebration.  Everyone was so pumped up that we were not watching an orchestra drilled by their master so much as an ensemble reminding me of  eager children performing their Christmas Pageant, complete with the adoring audience eating it all up.

The month to come won’t necessarily be the same as tonight, but for this occasion, the adrenaline was high.  Everything felt a bit louder than usual, as though the acoustics of Roy Thomson Hall had improved. But I think it was simply that everyone played with great commitment.

This was especially true of Jon Kimura Parker, substituting on short notice for an indisposed Jean-Yves Thibaudet, who was to have been the soloist in the Gershwin.  Parker practically ran onstage, bouncing in his seat a couple of times while playing.  This concerto is a favourite of mine, but I have to say this was a reading unlike any I’ve ever heard.  Oundjian played up the jazzy element from the orchestra, giving us big dynamic range.  And Oundjian gave Parker lots of room for his occasionally idiosyncratic rubati, an interpretation with genuine soul.  I’ve always found Oundjian especially generous in concerti, very thoughtful around his soloists with a wonderfully supportive approach: and that was again true tonight.

Peter Oundjian, Jon Kimura Parker_2 (@Jag Gundu)

Oundjian shapes the orchestra in support of soloist Parker (photo: Jag Gundu).

Parker’s encore that he introduced as a tribute to Oundjian was a blistering reading of Oscar Peterson’s Blues Etude, red hot playing in one of the most impressive displays of pianism I’ve seen in a long time.  Wow.

The three brief Bernstein dance movements were little jewels, exploding with energy & verve.

Then came the Brahms, where the orchestra celebrating Oundjian seemed at odds with the need for balance in a large scale work, colliding with the subtleties of this symphony.  It’s weird, that the piece at times was subverted by energy, when I think I would have preferred something less intense, less edgy, more magisterial, unified and self-assured.  We heard solo after solo played beautifully, stunning playing from the string section (for instance in the main theme of the last movement) or the trombones (the choir near the end of the symphony).  I think tomorrow’s concert will be better when they settle down and simply play.

In the days ahead we’ll be hearing the TSO and Oundjian in Rachmaninoff’s Third Piano Concerto, a concert featuring Christopher Plummer & music inspired by William Shakespeare, Mahler’s Ninth Symphony and for the final weekend, Beethoven’s joyful Ninth Symphony.

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What I learned from Bourdain

Anthony Bourdain, a man of contradictions, has died.  Yes he ended his life, but he seemed to know more about how to enjoy life than anyone I can think of.  As I watch CNN’s marathon of favourite episodes of Parts Unknown, I’m trying to pay it forward by trying to capture a bit of what I’ve learned from him, a man who was among other things a great teacher.

  1. Say “yum” or “mmm” when someone gives you a taste.  Did Bourdain ever say a critical word EVER? He takes a taste and inevitably says “thank you”.  Music critics? We could learn from this guy.  Be grateful. Getting to listen to beautiful music is a blessing.Now of course we don’t see the preparation, the research. But that only means that Bourdain & his team make sure they’re eating something wonderful before they set up the shot where everyone is moaning in ecstasy.  But it’s not so hard to stifle the negative words, is it? Smile, nod, model enjoyment & pleasure.
  2. Curiosity seems to be fundamental to intelligence.  Bourdain asks questions, always trying to figure out how things work, enquiring about what’s in a recipe and how something is made. And most fundamentally he wants to taste things he hasn’t tasted before. Remember to try something new, and when reading a menu, order the strangest thing there.
  3. Don’t stipulate. Open your heart to what’s before you. Sure, it’s all staged for TV, maybe it wasn’t like that in real life. Okay! So maybe we should pretend we’re on Parts Unknown and that we are meeting people whom we admire and embracing beauty and brilliance.  Applaud creativity, laugh at jokes, eat it up, devour what’s before you. Love it unconditionally.Later (when you’re writing about it)? then you can dissect and contemplate what might be going on. But when you’re face to face with the artists? Offer them love and support.They are apprehensive, or possibly even terrified of what you might say. Me? I’m gentle Pollyanna, so nothing to fear. But even so: be gentle, careful.

    Be nice.

  4. Be profane. Don’t be afraid of bad words. They are truthful, dammit.
  5. Listen to the person you are talking to. What do they know? where have they been? what interests them? Shut up and listen.
  6. Learn martial arts : because walking into strange places is easier if you know ju-jitsu or karate and have a wash-board tummy.  I’ll never get the rock hard abs, but it’s not a bad idea, the morning after pigging out.
  7. Eating is fun and drinking is fun and if you’re not loving it, not having fun don’t do it.  Wait until you have a good reason to eat or drink such as acute thirst or hunger.  This is really about going to see opera or a concert. What was it CS Lewis said? Fans of mystery novels should review mystery novels.  If I am a baroque and classical fan, sitting at a modern opera hating its dissonance: maybe I shouldn’t be there. Love is the answer. No I don’t know what the question is.
  8. Good cheese is better than a naked body on the beach. Although I’d love to have the opportunity to make the comparison.
  9. People are vulnerable when they are eating and  drinking.  Vulnerability? However you get it, it’s indispensable for rapport. The unmasked vulnerable person is the real person: the one you want to meetAnd know.
  10. Bourdain regularly pursues the un-commmon rather than the mainstream, the road less traveled. There’s a great episode I saw tonight celebrating examining how Marseilles is a better alternative to Paris.  So of course when he comes to Canada? he explores Québec or Newfoundland.  Of course.
  11. Compassion for the addict and their addiction: no judgment because he has been there and it could happen to anyone.  How is it that this food & travel show taught me more about heroin than anything I’ve ever seen?  Possibly because Bourdain has literally been there himself.
  12. He’s unafraid to look inept or goofy or incompetent: because he is comfortable in his own skin and in front of the camera.  I am remembering an appearance I made on CBC’s opera quiz, and how I laughed at my own ineptitude.  Nobody really cares about performance, so long as you seem comfortable in your own skin.  This is true when we’re singing or playing the keyboard.  The audience / congregation don’t want to be stressed out about whether you’re able to hit the high note.
  13. Bourdain started in the kitchen himself. He never lost his respect for the hard work of creation. Critics should have some sense of the labour involved, some respect for the work.Honouring the worker honours the work.
  14. Parts unknown? Visit them both on the map AND on the menu: explore new music new food new people new books new media.  Indeed, the parts unknown can even be ourselves. Do we know our own parts?

And why did he choose to end his life? Who knows. I am sad for such a death. But i can’t miss his love of life,  joie de vivre.

In the meantime seize the day or seize the bottle or seize the lover.  Enjoy yourself and you’re walking in his footsteps.

bourdain

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The Little Match Girl Passion

Tonight was the second & concluding performance for Soundstreams presentation of David Lang’s The Little Match Girl Passion, paired on the program with the world premiere of James Rolfe’s song cycle I Think We Are Angels at Crow’s Theatre.

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Composer David Lang (photo: Peter Serling)

I hesitate to make too much of the similarities between the two pieces when some of them may have been forced onto Rolfe, whose commission likely was framed something like “hello James, could you please write a piece using the same personnel & (more or less the same) instruments as what we’re using for the other work we’re doing…?”   I don’t know how stringent the stipulations may have been upon Rolfe’s commission, which I think he fulfilled admirably.

The two works are similar and match rather well. Both works employ four vocal soloists, namely soprano Vania Chan, mezzo-soprano Andrea Ludwig,  tenor Colin Ainsworth &  bass-baritone Stephen Hegedus.

In addition,

  • Lang’s work included tubular bells,  a bass drum and other hand-held percussion
  • Rolfe’s work included accordion (played by Michael Bridge), bells & additional percussion
  • Where Lang writes a cappella, tonal with occasional ventures into chromaticism, Rolfe is diatonic, the voices tunefully accompanied

I was intrigued by the process behind Lang’s work, which appears to take a sentimental story by Hans Christian Andersen—namely “The Little Match Girl”—and re-tell it employing elements from a Christian passion narrative.  Lang’s dramaturgy employs at least two different modes, at times telling a story, which is certainly something we find in any of Bach’s great passions, at other times stopping the action for something more ritualized, both in language and in the setting of those words.  There are points of contact with Christian passion stories, most explicitly when a voice says “Eli”, which is how Jesus cries out on the cross, but also the beginning of a great psalm where the psalmist says “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani” (or in other words “God, God, why have you forsaken me”?)

As 21st Century compositions it’s clear we’ve moved well beyond Modernism into something entirely different.   Not only are both of these composers comfortable with tonal writing, but we’re engaged with textual elements that I don’t think we’ve seen in decades.  The source story for Lang is as sentimental as anything you’d encounter in Puccini, mitigated perhaps by the juxtaposition with the passion story.  Even so this is a story wearing its heart on its sleeve, almost demanding that you have tears.

Rolfe’s challenge was greater I think, as his cycle takes poems that don’t have anything remotely as solid as the Hans Christian Andersen storyline; as a result it’s a series of lovely moments, without the textual unity one might wish for.  The best song cycles –thinking for instance of Frauenliebe und Leben, Dichterliebe, Die schöne Müllerin or even Strauss’s Four Last Songs are pulled together by something like a storyline.  For me that’s the chief difference between the Lang piece and Rolfe’s work.  There is something delightful about the use of accordion, which humanizes the romance that’s lurking in several of Rolfe’s songs.  I devoutly wish I could have had more preparation for this work, (perhaps a look at the song texts?) as I never really succeeded in wrapping my head around the work, lovely as it was.  I kept wondering on each successive song if it was about to be over (the lights were out so we couldn’t follow the text that was in the program).  With the Lang piece I studiously read the text, which is maybe a great way to know what’s coming although in another sense, it took away any possibility that I would be surprised.

The four singers were wonderful, particularly in the Lang, where Chan’s small barefoot presence was extremely touching, matched by a clear but delicate delivery throughout.  Ludwig, Hegedus & Ainsworth all had their moments to shine, and all four were pressed into service as instrumentalists as well.  There’s more to it than what I’ve written, as we’re watching something resembling opera; but I feel Soundstreams avoided going there, leaning more towards the realm of a concert rather than a staged piece of drama or opera.  It’s a legitimate choice, allowing for mystery and the excitement of discovery, although for the first piece I was pretty much lost, nice as the music was.

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Composer James Rolfe (Photo: Juliet Palmer)

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Circle of Sound – Charm of Finches

 

 

Circle of Sound Poster (1)

Charm of Finches, Canada’s Premiere Flute Quintet. Charm of Finches’ musicians are mavericks in the classical genre – all young, vibrant and electrifying musicians – and the force behind brilliant new arrangements and compositions with a reputation for delivering fresh and energetic concerts.

This concert features the Toronto premieres of Mendelssohn’s ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’, arranged by Gudrun Hinze, and David Heath’s ‘Return to Avalon’ for SEVEN FLUTES, joined by Kelly Zimba and Camile Watts. The programme also includes the world premiere of ‘First came the temple…’ written by Toronto-based composer, Bekah Simms. And to round off the evening with ‘Raga Terah’ by JUNO and three-time ECMA award-winning Canadian composer, Derek Chark. Don’t miss this opportunity to hear these incredible musicians up close and personal, in the intimate venue of Hart House, East Common Room.

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Opera: Passion, Power, and Politics

There it all is, everything a boy or girl could want in one headline.

Now in fact that’s the title of a big beautiful book that I’ve been reading.  And what good is a book if it doesn’t push your buttons? This one certainly intrigues and excites me.

passionpowerpolitics_PICTUREIn my experience big luscious books about opera that are full of nice pictures rarely have the depth or intellectual heft to match.  Hm, isn’t that funny? A book will be heavy to lift but light-weight where it matters most: in the text.  Aha,  that’s the usual, but not in this case.  I saw Opera: Passion, Power and Politics on the new arrivals shelf at the Edward Johnson Library, where I find so much great stuff (for instance that Bernstein book that I devoured just a few days ago): a book that arose in context with an exhibit at the Victoria & Albert Museum that ran quite recently, from September 2017 until February of this year.

Ah, if only we had a show like this in Toronto.

When I read you the conceptual overview from the back jacket, please note that I am describing text that is embossed in gold, embedded in the fabric of the cover.  It’s almost too beautiful for me to capture the words, a wonderfully sensuous book to handle, even before you discover the beautiful pictures inside.

Here’s that blurb, which may surprise you by being quite intriguing, certainly more than any such opera picture book I’ve ever seen before. I’ll bold-face it in gold-coloured text, although this doesn’t nearly do justice to this lovely object: as in the gleaming picture above.

Focusing on seven key premieres in seven European cities, this fascinating book –published in collaboration with the Royal opera House, London– captures the passion, power and spectacle of opera over its rich 400-year history.  With introductory essays by some of today’s leading practitioners including Plácido Domingo, Antonio Pappano and Simone Young, it celebrates an innovative and complex art form that continues to inspire new generations of audiences around the world. A product of its own time, each opera also acts as a lens through which we can examine contemporary politics, culture and society.

VENICE
Claudio Monteverdi L’incoronazione di Poppea 

LONDON
George Frideric Handel Rinaldo

VIENNA
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Le nozze di Figaro

MILAN
Giuseppe Verdi Nabucco

PARIS
Richard Wagner Tannhäuser

DRESDEN
Richard Strauss Salome

LENINGRAD
Dmitri Shostakovich Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District

The jacket speaks of Domingo & Pappano perhaps because those names will help sell the book. But I’m more intrigued by Danielle de Niese talking about her role debut as Poppea, Robert Carsen musing on Rinaldo and Handel’s da capo arias, Roger Parker on the young Verdi, Michael Levine speaking of the design of Tannhäuser complete with a couple of intriguing photos, and Graham Vick speaking of Shostakovich.   It may not cover everything, but it does give you essays exploring opera in genuinely inter-disciplinary  ways.  I’m thinking of titles such as

  • Nicholas Till writing about “Vienna and the Englightenment”, aiming to put Mozart into context
  • “Wagner among the boulevards: Tannhäuser in Paris“, talking about the city and its culture as much as the opera
  • “Visions of women: Salome and Dresden”, looking at Wilde, Strauss & Beardsley (yes some lovely images), and Strauss’s opera as seen through the lens of directors Peter Brook (with help from Salvador Dali’s designs), Robert Carsen & David McVicar.
  • “Heroine, victim, or Criminal? Shostakovich’s Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District”, an ambitious essay from Elizabeth Wilson exploring the intersection of Soviet politics and opera.

Each of the seven pairings –an opera and a city—elicits a short introductory piece (such as Domingo’s or Carsen’s) plus a longer essay (such as the one by Parker or Wilson).

And there’s a concluding section that isn’t really necessary, that curiously reminds me of the Bernstein book I reviewed a few days ago, the way it weakens the book, perhaps by seeming to be trying too hard.

Even so it’s a magnificent book, a worthy gift for any opera lover of your acquaintance.  (if you follow the link you can see the book in soft or hard cover, an inexpensive opera tote bag and even an Aubrey Beardsley scarf.)

Oh heck, buy it for yourself. You’re worth it.

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Inglorious Women: Toronto

Toronto based performers come together as Inglorious Women: Toronto to raise funds for underrepresented women in need of legal assistance and counselling.

May 16, 2018. Toronto, Ontario: Inglorious B Productions will be donating all proceeds from its inaugural event: Inglorious Women: Toronto to the Barbra Schlifer Commemorative Clinic.  The concert, featuring established and up and coming operatic and musical theatre talent, will take place at 7:30 pm, on June 1st at St Andrew’s Church, downtown.

Co-artistic Directors Danie Friesen and Renée Salewski, have chosen to make the first event their company presents an event that gives back.  The decision was prompted by the stream of voices flowing from the theatrical and musical communities over the past year, calling out sexual harassment and assault in our workplaces.  By donating the funds raised to the Barbra Schlifer Commemorative Clinic, Danie, Renée and the over 20 performers donating their time and talents, hope make a sizable contribution to an organization that helps underrepresented women build lives free from violence by providing counselling, legal advice and fees.

Inglorious Women: Toronto will feature over 20 performing artists who will treat the audience to some of their favourite classical and musical theatre numbers, with a few entertaining surprises along the way. Kids under 12 are free at the door in order to encourage families to attend and educate kids about advocacy.

Inglorious Women: Toronto

A concert of musical theatre and opera favourites in aid of the Barbra Schlifer Commemorative Clinic presented by Inglorious B Productions, featuring a growing list of artists, including Inglorious Women: Allyson Devenish, Tina Faye, Beste Kalender, Kira Braun, Cassandra Warner, Elizabeth Polese, Annie Ramos, Allison Cecilia Arends, Danie Friesen, Cara Adams, Marcelle Boisjoli, Renée Salewski, Hilary June Hart, Ramona Joy Carmelly, Emma Char ; The Allies: Michael Robert Broder, Justin Welsh, Robert de Vrij, Cairan Ryan, Cole Kapoor, and Paul Williamson.

St Andrew’s Church 73 Simcoe Street
Friday June 1, 2018 at 7:30

Tickets are $20 at the door
Or book in advance for $15 at
Brown Paper Tickets 

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

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Orfeo and the power of music

David Fallis’s tenure as the Artistic Director of the Toronto Consort ended with today’s final concert performance of Monteverdi’s Orfeo, one of the most elaborate presentations I’ve ever seen from this group.

Don’t get me wrong. We were still in the presence of something intimate rather than overblown, the closest I’ve ever been to the Florentine Camerata in spirit if not in the actuality of the performance. For many of us, L’Orfeo was something we understood to be the first opera from our teachers & books. I had asked David Fallis whether there was anything symbolic in choosing this for his last undertaking leading the Toronto Consort.

But apparently not. He said he simply liked Monteverdi.

Okay. If there’s any extra meaning it’s in the joyful recognition that this opera is a celebration of the power of music. And that’s as true now as it was in 1607.

I invoke the Camerata as a society of friends devoted to the exploration of music and its possibilities. That’s what Monteverdi was doing and what the Toronto Consort continue to do. Jeanne Lamon Hall is small enough that you can see and hear every individual contributor (including the violinist for whom the hall is named, splendid sounding), sometimes making eye contact with singers & instrumentalists, and never in any danger that the performance would lose the sense of ‘consort’ as a verb. The formal moments –especially when the brass stood for their part in the opening Toccata or the beginning of the Third Act—were handled in such a way to remind us of music’s eternal ritual function in processions or public events. We were right on a kind of interface between music serving the drama (as we expect it to do in centuries of operatic composition) and music before the conventions of opera were drilled into us. We watched a kind of friendly negotiation, the music helping but always seeming to be freely offered rather than merely accompaniment in the service of story-telling.

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Tenor Charles Daniels (photo: Annelies van der Vegt)

This was especially clear whenever we were watching & listening to Charles Daniels as Orfeo, a textbook demonstration of the notion that “less is more”. Sometimes he began with ostentatious pauses, sometimes singing with such softness as to compel us to pay extra attention. On occasion the voice rose in its intensity, particularly in that amazing moment in Act III when the Goddess Hope must leave him, in obedience to the dictum “abandon hope ye who enter here”; and as she abandons him, his response is unexpected and overwhelming. But he mostly sings very delicately, at times so softly as to surprise you, wonderfully expressive and always inhabiting the character.

And sometimes the greatest moments were collective utterances. Since I first studied this work decades ago, there have been parts I loved, that I eagerly anticipated in today’s concert. Every one of those was better today via Fallis, the Toronto Consort & their guest participants. I was wiping my eyes during the Toccata, smiling like a little kid listening to “Lasciate i monti”, and hollering at the top of my lungs at the end, grateful for all the many contributors. Katherine Hill as Music and then as Euridice gave us lovely moments that were wonderfully accurate, Michele DeBoer giving us a different coloration but every bit as effective as Proserpina. Laura Pudwell as Silvia, and as Speranza (Hope) brought her wonderfully rich sound, but blending beautifully when part of the chorus of shepherds, with Kevin Skelton, Bud Roach David Roth & Cory Knight. Roth as Pluto and Skelton as Apollo each were suitably godlike, while Bud Roach had some lyrical moments as well.

It was a hot afternoon in the space, yet everyone was intense in their focus, giving their all, Fallis included.  It felt like a perfect send-off, although Fallis will be back from time to time, not as the Artistic Director but still a member of the Consort.

G.Dou, Spitzenkloepplerin - G.Dou, Lace maker -

David Fallis (Photo credit: Paul Orenstein, digital work by Ross Duffin, background by Gerrit Dou 17th century, Dutch).

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Laird’s new Leonard Bernstein biography

2018 is the centennial of Leonard Bernstein’s birth, as I’ve mentioned in reviewing recent commemorative performances of Candide by TIFT, TOT and the TSObernstein_bio

Anniversaries usually trigger a flood of books as well.  I’ve just read one of them cover to cover in the past 24 hours, an absorbing 212 pages by Paul R. Laird, in the “Critical Lives” series from Reaktion Books. (click for more info or to purchase)

I was sucked into the book immediately by the way it’s written.  Or maybe it’s the way Bernstein lived his life?  We’re in a breathless account of someone who is

  • A pianist
  • A conductor
  • A composer
  • A teacher
  • A celebrity
  • Sexually active
  • A married man with children

This is neither an apology for the man nor a critical hatchet job, but a balanced account that channels much of the native self-doubt Bernstein lived with, as a composing performing commercially successful Jewish homosexual.  What I found extraordinary about this book that I was unable to put down all day was how Laird managed to create a truly multi-faceted portrait, reconciling if not balancing so many aspects of this complex figure.  Laird met Bernstein, but clearly spent a great deal of time studying and coming to understand the man.  Perhaps the reason it works so well is because this is no PhD thesis,  nor an attempt to prove a point or achieve anything revolutionary.  I was at times almost breathless turning the pages, waiting to discover what might happen next. We watch Bernstein live his life, month by month, year by year, as he conducts this, composes that, says this, broadcasts that, screws this person (sometimes surreptitiously, sometimes within the boundaries of marriage), flies here: and so on.

That isn’t to say there aren’t places where Laird zeroes in on something. There are segments where a composition’s creation is described via the people involved in the collaboration or the steps in the process. It’s very de facto, very matter of fact, as we glimpse a life of unrelenting activity.  I used to think Bernstein didn’t compose very much but reading this I realize wow considering how much else he was doing, he composed plenty.  And indeed when we’re down to the last years of Bernstein’s life we encounter a sad fact, that the conductor was the chief champion for the composer.  The late works haven’t been heard so often because: they’re still relatively new.

If you have any interest in Bernstein –as a fan of his compositions, or admirer of his conducting—you will encounter something you didn’t know.  I’m surprised how much I learned about him today in my dash through this book, how many things I need to revisit or seek out in the library.  Laird’s bio is not a portrait to distort your understanding of Bernstein.  We hear some fierce critiques of his superficiality, of his enjoyment of popularity.  There are places where Laird shows his interest in the music, but I wouldn’t call him an advocate.  And as far as the conducting Laird seems to be an agnostic, reporting the gigs without attempting to analyze Bernstein’s style.  But then again to do so would have slowed the book down considerably as we dashed to the sad conclusion.

Laird closes (after describing the last year leading up to Bernstein’s death) with a chapter called “A Final Evaluation”.  Much as I loved the book, at this point –meaning the final evaluation—I was disappointed at what Laird seemed to miss.  This is a matter of fact description, possibly conditioned by Bernstein’s celebrity.  I find myself once again irritated by the paralysis musicology seems to experience in the presence of popularity, as I recall Kerman’s inadequate response to Tosca.  While Laird does get some things right, for instance his praise for Bernstein’s promotion of classical music through his broadcast legacy, and his fascination with his celebrity, I find the language somewhat faint-hearted when it’s time to assess the artist, or the value of his eclectic sounds.  Throughout we hear admonitions quoted about the conducting style, but almost nothing about why his conducting might have been influential, if not loved by some (me for instance); admittedly it’s a tough subject, but the evaluation is missing a great deal in this area.  Similarly for the composer, we hear of the classical musicians uptight about rock or jazz, without anyone to talk about what’s brilliant in his output.  Yes many of us are reading this book because we love Bernstein:  the conductor, the composer, the broadcaster.  The book tells us about his life, but in my view it understates his greatness.  While we get an evaluation of his life, his art is presented as a fact.  I suppose it’s of a piece with what’s in the book.

I need to read it again, as there are scores I didn’t know about that I will now have to hunt down in the library.

I Hate Music?! Trouble in Tahiti.  A White House Cantata.  …And so much more.

The book is most persuasive because there’s no attempt to persuade. How ironic.

Consider me persuaded.    (click for more info or to purchase)

 

 

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Ensemble Showcase 2018

An Evening With the Ensemble Studio is a special opportunity. It’s interesting to get a closer look at the members of the Canadian Opera Company’s Ensemble Studio. For most of the year they’re confined to small roles in the mainstage productions, but on a night such as this they take on bigger roles, a taste of prime-time. And for us, it’s the chance to see so much more of what they can do, their potential realized. We see that they’re ready.

In past years this meant a performance cast with Ensemble members, but beginning in 2017 they’re doing a showcase in formal attire instead, a new concept that I think they are still figuring out: as in, sometimes it works and sometimes, not so much.

There were two parts to tonight’s show. After intermission we saw one of the glories of the operatic stage, namely Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas in a well-conceived production that didn’t require costumes but did entail some clever use of the Anna Bolena set (designed by Benoit Dugardyn), a production that stands with some of the best work I’ve seen from the COC. I loved it so much possibly because it was so much better than what we’d seen before the intermission.

We began with a series of scenes from Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte that pale in comparison to the tight organic performance of Dido. It was the same group of singers before & after intermission, sounding marvelous on the whole and accompanied by the COC Orchestra led by Johannes Debus. If you ask me (and nobody did), if opting to present only part of an opera, the choice of scenes needs to be more carefully thought out than on this occasion, as the Cosi scenes were to my eye rather awkward. We began in media res, handing things to a character who is always liked –Despina—while expecting the four lovers to grab us without any exposition, no chance to create a through line either with us or for them with their character. I think this choice was simply too difficult for the singers, and of dubious value in the creation of a micro-characterization.

But let me get back to Purcell, the wonderful and indeed indestructible Dido. Every moment was gold, the orchestra sounding delicate & committed. In fact part of my problem with the Mozart might be that I felt it was a bit brusque, barely intelligible, whereas I caught every syllable of every word in the Purcell: something that owes as much to Debus’s sensitive ear as to the enunciation of the singers. Was Debus preoccupied, perhaps mindful of a farewell he would be making to some of the members of the orchestra?  Of course there is value in the experience, as singers tell horror stories of unsympathetic conductors (part of the job, right?). They mostly kept it together. All I know is that everything was a thousand times better after the interval, although the fact we were dealing with a complete work in a well-conceived production, surely had a lot to do with it.  In the program one sees “Dramatic Consultant –Anna Theodosakis”, leading me to wonder how this was done. No actual director credit? Were the Ensemble Members only getting advice without actual direction? Ah well. ‘Tis a mystery.

And hindsight is 20-20 of course.

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Soprano Danika Lorèn and soprano Lauren Eberwein in the Canadian Opera Company’s An Evening with the Ensemble Studio, 2018, with the COC Orchestra conducted by COC Music Director Johannes Debus. (Photo: Gaetz Photography)

There were some wonderfully original touches such as the meta-theatrical choice to have Dido onstage watching the witches, as though they were haunting her dreams. And while this wasn’t a period approach, when Lauren Eberwein said “remember me” staring directly into Danika Lorèn’s face, I totally lost it. The two of them had genuine star power throughout the evening, Loren effortlessly switching from the wackiness of Despina to the darker shades of Belinda.  I was mindful too of the question of vocal type, after having heard Keri Alkema’s thoughts just a few days ago about changing from a mezzo-soprano to a soprano.  Eberwein herself has made such a switch (notice that she’s called “soprano” in the COC photo credit) even though Dido is usually understood to be a mezzo role: but embellished by some higher notes.

Everyone had their moments though. Bruno Roy was strong as both Don Alfonso & Aeneas, Megan Quick dominating the stage as the Sorceress, Samantha Pickett & Simone McIntosh delightful in their witchy machinations (and which seemed so much more fun than what they were given to do as Fiordiligi & Dorabella), aided and abetted by Samuel Chan who then slipped into the sailor’s role (although everyone was in formal attire).

Maybe I ask too much, but I think less is more. If I had only seen Dido tonight I would have been more impressed by the COC’s Ensemble Studio than what I saw. Yet it’s a work in progress. It will be interesting to see what they’ll do next year.

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