Sunday 21 February 2010

February.

So it seems that I have what is commonly known in the New Years Resolution business as 'The February Fail'. I've promised myself to pick it up in March, but I've been soso busy that it's just been impossible to write at 2am. So here's my revised resolution: I will complete 365 days, but I plan for it not to go on for several years :)

Saturday 6 February 2010

"Les Filles de Cadix"

It seems that every soprano in Christendom has done a version of this song be Delibes, so I have NO idea why I've never heard it before. I love just stumbling across something on youtube! Now...I feel bad...the version I was immediately drawn to was by the wonderful, exceptional, to-die-for, words-can't-possibly-describe, Frederica von Stade. But -despite the fact that she can't actually properly pronounce the very important lyric 'Cadix' in this song - I preferred Diana Damrau's interpretation. *prepares self for stoning of Biblical proportions*

Is it just me, or does this piece sound exactly like it should be in Carmen? Composed in 1874, a year before Carmen premièred at the Opera Comique, I wonder if Bizet consciously robbed Delibes? Because, that first phrase of Les Filles is pretty much exactly the same as the first phrase from the Chanson Boheme that opens Act 2 of Carmen. Who knows, maybe I'm just being a bit too investigative - but wouldn't it be strange...

Though Carmen may be the most obvious product of the gypsy genre, there were many works concerned with the subject written at time. There was a certain obsession with 'the other'; a theme that'll always crop up, regardless of the era. In Mozart's time it was Turks, and in the early 19th Century for a brief time, it was the fascinating Jewish immigrants. Then came the dangerous, colourful gypsies; there to provide us with a bit of exotica in music halls around the world.

What I really like about Les Filles de Cadix is this exotic element - the soloists sings of dancing a bolero to the sound of the castanets, the percussive sound cutting through the orchestra as she sings. What's also nice, is that what starts off as the stereotypical 'gypsy-alluring', turns into something quite aggressive (which is perfectly executed with Damrau's increasingly dramatic vocal colour). Though, the music, like the gypsies themselves are doing, tricks you - breaking from the quick fire racing aggression, into lyrical 'Ahhh's' in which phrasing is key in teasing out every inch of...well...tease.

I think what made me chose this over von Stade's performance was the vocal acting employed by Damrau...she just seems to encapsulate the gypsy free-spirit this was written to mimic. She's wonderful at alternating between the girly, coquettish tone and strong, resonant, and quite intimidating (!) colour and depth. She's famous for her ear splittingly high coloratura, but I heard her say in an interview once, that coloratura is fun, but it doesn't touch people. She's certainly got the right idea, and though this may not be a particularly good example of a 'touching' aria - she knows exactly the right way to go about telling the story. I like :)

Friday 5 February 2010

"Schlafe, mein Liebster"

Really, really unseasonal - but seeing as we're expecting arctic conditions over the next week, I thought I could make an exception for an extract from Bach's Christmas Oratorio...Schlafe, mein Liebster. I'm booked to sing this with the flute choir at school, though don't have the music...so have to learn it from the recording...good times! We'll get there :)

Bach was really never one to conform, and its obvious in this, with his not-so-stereotypical musical portrayal of Christmas. The text isn't particularly sacred and there's not a glockenspiel or tubular bell in sight! Though what he really does portray well is the richness of the season, with a really thick orchestral texture, over which the vocal line floats.
Though the vocal line isn't particularly high; a real mezzo is needed to combat the untransposed score. Thankfully for me, flutes are unnaturally high, so I'll be singing a fair bit higher. The only think I'm slightly worried about is how texture will be changed...or how the vocal part might be overpowering - as it is definitely the orchestra that have the focus in this piece.

As with every single bit of Bach that I've ever laid 'ears' on, the harmony in this is divine, especially when there is a sustained vocal part with orchestral movement underneath. In our A Level music course, we have to harmonise a melody in the style of Bach for a section of our exam; and this is a perfect example as to why.

Thursday 4 February 2010

"Ombra mai fu"



















This has successfully completed my transformation into Handel's biggest fan. I've already waxed lyrical about his wonderful vocal writing, so there's not really much more I could possibly say on the subject...but Ombra Mai Fu from his opera Xerxes is one of the most beautifully calming arias I've ever come across.

Though...the text is a little bit strange! In opera we're used to Romantic expression of massive passions and feelings in the form of a lovely little compact aria. However, this seems to be about a tree. King Xerxes seeks enlightenment from said beloved tree as the plot of the opera begins, opening with what is now perhaps one of Handel's most celebrated pieces. The story of Xerxes is a little bit confusing...I think I'll have to watch it sometime to fully understand - but for now I'll just paste a particularly mind-bending extract from the all-knowing wikipedia;

King Xerxes, looking up from contemplation of his beloved tree, sees Romilda, the daughter of his vassal Ariodate, and makes up his mind to marry her. However, Romilda and Xerxes' brother, Arsamene, love eachother, while Romilda's sister, Atalanta, is also determined to make Arsasmene hers. Amastre, Xerxes' fiancee, forsaken by him for Romilda, disguises herself as a man and observes Xerxes.

Well that's a crazy love-rhombus and a disguise already established and they haven't even got onto the main plot yet! It's one for watching more than reading I think...

The beauty of this music mirrors the beauty of what Xerxes is singing about. It's simple, and natural - everything seems to grow from an organic place - no note is superfluous. In a good interpretation, like Bartoli's, the first note grows and blooms as it moves through the pulse of the music. It's regal, as one would expect from a King, though not haughty - the perfect representation of a figure alone in contemplation.

Handel was a legend, who could elegantly transform something that on the surface is about a tree, into something much much more :)

Tuesday 2 February 2010

"La Danza"

Rossini's famous tarantella 'La Danza'