tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72848564843046374152024-03-12T17:39:58.065-07:00Piccolo SopranoNEW MUSIC, DAY BY DAY, LITTLE BY LITTLE.PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-13064977727151694692010-11-27T07:46:00.000-08:002010-11-27T08:43:34.590-08:00Pretentiousness: Analysis of 'Carmen' through theoretical frameworksApologies for the pretentiousness...It's an essay for a uni portfolio, and having spent a bit of time researching it, thought I may as well post. Might be quite interesting in the end...<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:36.0pt">By considering a dramatic performance through a theoretical framework, it is possible to see past the surface meaning by focusing on certain elements or themes that provide a deeper understanding of the piece.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Often, it is possible to draw on several of these critical frameworks, looking at how they interact with and inform each other; so creating an awareness of how the piece is constructed with parts of a whole. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">In terms of a complex operatic performance, such as Bizet’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Carmen</i>, there are so many of these individual artistic elements, dramatic and musical, as well as overlapping themes, that it is difficult to achieve an in-depth understanding without using multiple frameworks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This also highlights the importance of selecting appropriate frameworks in order to create an insightful analysis.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For example, in terms of an historic art form such as the operatic adaptation of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Carmen,</i> an analysis under new historicism would tell us a lot not only about the development of the form, but also the cultural implications of the plot.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>With music as the main language, a theory of musical semiotics would be extremely useful in this context for providing a reliable interpretation beyond that of the subjective emotional response.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Finally, a broader theoretical approach, such as the application of feminism and gender subversion, would aid in a complete understanding of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Carmen </i>due to its close links with the dramatic content and the contemporary conventions of operatic characterisation, as well as how it interacts with both new historicism and the language of musical semiotics.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Through the frame of new historicism, it is possible to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Carmen </i>as a product of its historical context, as well as a tool by which to understand cultural and musical development.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The subject matter of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Carmen </i>is particularly interesting under an analysis of this kind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In mid 19<sup>th</sup> century Europe, the role of ‘Dangerous Other’ had been passed from Turks to Jews and finally to Gypsies and literature and composition was littered with reference to Gypsy culture.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This ‘otherness’, along with the ‘fabled looseness of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">cigarreras</i>’ established Carmen, in the 19<sup>th</sup> Century mind, as a stereotypical gypsy; a temptress.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This racist 19<sup>th</sup> Century western perception of gypsy culture failed to recognise anything that didn’t adhere to this stereotype, even such striking dissonances as the chaste dress of all gypsy women, which Adrian Mourby recognises as protectiveness of ‘womenfolk’ apparent in all ‘vulnerable minorities’. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">In new historic terms, it is the form which is most important in highlighting artistic development.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Unlike Mozart’s foray into Spanish culture in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Don Giovanni</i>, Bizet creates a soundscape fitting with the content of the piece.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>By using compositional techniques such as the Andalusian cadence (or the minor descending tetrachord) which are inherent in the flamenco music of Spanish and Gypsy culture, Bizet creates a strong relationship between the music and drama, so advancing the operatic form in its dramatic scope and plausibility. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">As musicologist Joseph Kerman notes, feminist criticism is generally absent from the study of music-drama, especially in the dangerous territory of operatic performance, where the conventions of ‘femininity’, as well as gender subversion due to ‘breeches roles’, are normalised.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This highlights the importance of applying new theory to dramatic works in order to obtain a deeper contemporary understanding.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Carmen</i>, it is possible to approach feminism on two levels; simply with the dramatic events, and simultaneously through the context of musical semiotics.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As music is the primary language of operatic performance, it is important to use the theory of musical semiotics to support, and see if there is any foundation in, a feminist approach.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Literary critic Catherine Clemént makes the important distinction between women’s role in opera as a form, and their role within the dramatic content; ‘No prima donna, no opera.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But the role...is not the deciding role...women perpetually sing their eternal undoing’.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This is certainly true in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Carmen, </i>where the eponymous heroine, possibly ‘the most feminist’ character throughout the operatic tradition, meets a tragic death at the hands of a man; in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Carmen</i>’s case, Don José.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This male dominance is not only evident in the final sequence, but is subliminally transferred to the audience throughout through the construction of the music (specifically <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Prelude</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Votre toast, je peux vous le rendre</i>) which conjures combative, ‘masculine’ bullfighting.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Described by Clemént as ‘one of opera’s inspired and unconscious transferences’, this application of musical semiotics highlights to us the inescapability of Carmen’s feminine condition; existing in relation to men, with ‘music devoted to a woman convok[ing] virile heroes’.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It is Carmen’s attempt to achieve freedom from this stifling social condition, both musically and dramatically, that, for Clemént , establishes Carmen as a strong feminist figure.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This is no better demonstrated than in the modality of the composition.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>If safety and convention can be classified as tonal and diatonic, Carmen’s chromaticism ‘threatens the world of rational order and control’ and this is strongly evident immediately after Don José’s strongly diatonic and typically Romantic aria, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">La fleur que tu m’avais jetée, </i>which is answered by Carmen with the tritone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Semiotically, the tritone (or augmented fourth) is the primary interval of dissonance in Western harmonic theory, symbolic of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">diabolus in musica, </i>and so indicative of Carmen’s social standing in challenging contemporary convention; the ‘demon’.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Despite the fact this musical representation of a challenge to convention seems like a strong feminist action, it unfortunately gives a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">musical </i>reason why Carmen will eventually have to submit to the patriarchy of operatic convention, dying at the hands of her lover, Don José.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In accordance with the theory of musical semiotics, ‘absolute closure’ is synonymous with diatonic cadence, which is musically impossible with Carmen’s ‘harmonic promiscuity’. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">According to Clemént though, looking at this through a structuralist perspective makes this acceptable within the framework of feminist criticism.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In the aria in which she prophesises her death, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">En vain pour eviter les réponses amères, </i>Carmen voices a ‘revolutionary proclamation of a woman who chooses to die <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">before </i>a man decides it for her’.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>This is particularly evident through the use of foreboding word-play in the original French lyrics.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When spoken, or sung, ‘la mort’ (death) and ‘l’amour’ (love) are indistinguishable; so highlighting Carmen’s realisation that in this circumstance, the two are inseparable, with a man’s love as the ultimate cause of her death.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In conclusion, by considering a dramatic piece through the focus of several theoretical frameworks, it is possible to gain a deeper understanding of the latent content and historical contexts. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>As indicated with a feminist, new historical and semiotic analysis of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Carmen</i>, a seemingly simple story of a Gypsy temptress, becomes a vehicle for feminist protest, the power of patriarchal society, the development of the operatic form and the racist views of 19<sup>th</sup> Century society.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>By applying a strong focus on specific areas of the performance, the thematic nerve-centres are revealed, which creates a wider appreciation of all aspects of the performance; in starting with a narrow focus, the analysis builds to encompass a wider range of themes, and therefore understanding. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p></p></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-76222192902763424542010-11-15T10:39:00.001-08:002010-11-15T11:20:29.509-08:00Monteverdi and MannerismsSo, by some divine intervention, - slash my inability to cease youtube surfing - this weekend I stumbled (not literally, just virtually) across Emmanuelle Haim, of crazy harpsichording fame. Looking her up on Wikipedia, the fount of all knowledge, turns out she's pretty damn awesome; anyone with these credentials is...ace:<div><br /></div><div>"She spent 13 years studying at the Conservatoire Supérieur de Musique et de Danse in Paris. William Christie invited her to work with his ensemble Les Arts Florissants, as a continuo player and musical assistant. On Christie's recommendation, she later worked as a coach, assistant and guest artist to Simon Rattle"</div><div><br /></div><div>As I said - ace. </div><div><br /></div><div><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dWNO8RPbBoM?fs=1&hl=en_GB"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dWNO8RPbBoM?fs=1&hl=en_GB" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>Right, so my introduction to this artist was through this clip of the Monteverdi madrigal, <i>Ohime ch'io cado</i>...not entirely sure how I found that but hey ho. As a bit of a baroque nut I was bound to like it, but Monteverdi really is awesome. Having studied a few of his pieces, I'm always taken aback by his ability to paint the words - especially in this piece with the tasty little bits of dissonance. The melody is gorgeous too, and the way it just sort of walks about and morphs so organically...like dreaming? Like when you dream, you create and experience at the same time, without even realising? It's a sort of vertical landscape that is created as it moves? It seems to me a bit like that, as abstract as that concept is.</div><div><br /></div><div>Having looked at a few recordings of this piece on youtube, it shocked me a bit to see how negative the response was to this particular example (with Haim, Ciofi and Co.). It seemed to me that the sound was so much richer, texture-ly (is that a word?!) intricate and well...interesting. Ciofi, as well, brings a lot to this metaphorical Renaissance/Baroque table - spinning the melody nicely as well as brining a bit of character in - which, unfortunately, is so often overlooked in early music.</div><div><br /></div><div>And then I saw it. In someone's 'all knowing' youtube comment. The word 'mannerisms'. It bothers me slightly that this word has such negative connotations. 'Renée Fleming isn't what she used to be - too many mannerisms now'...'Haim has such annoying mannerisms'...'I can't see past the mannerisms in this piece'. I mean...isn't interpretation itself a form of mannerism? We bring to the piece something that makes it our own - be it experience, a change in technique or vocal expression. Through the use of a mannerism here and there we can physically take the piece off the page, and turn it into something alive - taking it away from being simply static. If that Monteverdi clip is too full of mannerisms - then I LOVE mannerisms. Give me more! </div><div><br /></div><div>The worst thing about 'mannerisms' is the fickle, fickle response to them. If those classical music big wigs are so against their 'mannerisms', then tell me - why is Cecilia Bartoli so successful and admired? She drops in mannerisms (brilliantly, may I add) all over the place in her interpretation to do <i>exactly </i>what I mentioned in the previous paragraph. No one sounds like Bartoli, and no one can interpret in the same way as her. Through mannerisms - be it machine-gun articulation, aspirated onsets, breathy tone, physical movement - Bartoli not only brings the music alive, but thrills her audiences. Incidentally, I'm off to see her on 5th Dec. at the Symphony Hall, Birmingham - and unsurprisingly I can't wait. LONG LIVE MANNERISMS!</div><div><br /></div><div><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_WvYa1rH2ns?fs=1&hl=en_GB"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_WvYa1rH2ns?fs=1&hl=en_GB" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>ps. I want a viola da gamba...just thought you might like to know...</div><div><br /></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-49528576742770453372010-09-12T13:45:00.000-07:002010-09-12T14:35:36.995-07:00The Blagovest Ensemble & Last Night of the PromsSo as it turns out, I'm not really that good at this blogging business...I sort of forget to write things down as soon as I think them. Play me a good tune and I'LL TALK ABOUT IT IN CAPS LOCK WITH YOU FOR AN ETERNITY - but give me time for it to all sink in and I get a bit boring and pretentious. So here's to trying again - I am determined to not let this fail!<div><br /></div><div>As it turns out, not even sitting cosy with a cup of tea watching the well known Conservative propaganda called 'The Last Night of the Proms', can keep the classical music lovers of the tiny little village of Belbroughten away from a bit of the live stuff. The Blagovest Ensemble from Russia for some reason included the Holy Trinity church in their UK tour - and as the translation of Blagovest may suggest, it was 'good news' for all who attended - including the youngest members of the audience - my good friend Anna and myself.</div><div><br /></div><div>With a mixed programme of Russian Orthodox sacred music and folk song, the 6 singers worked wonderfully together - especially after the interval, when someone must have suggested to the mezzo to turn the volume down. I just LOVE the Bass in Russian music, it's so <i>rich</i> and colourful, which works so wonderfully with the pious sacred music; the two seem inseparable - the rich sound conjuring images of the ornate interior of a Russian cathedral so vividly - even in a tiny protestant church in the West Midlands. The single Bass in this ensemble was fantastic. Though it has to be said, the highlight where he was concerned was simply hearing him speak - NO ONE has a speaking voice lower than Miroslav Alexeev. No one. </div><div><div><br /></div><div>As we drove home from our Russian experience, constantly pressing replay on a 27 second clip of Joyce DiDonato singing some Rossini, it dawned on us just how cool we really are. ESPECIALLY as our night wasn't over...that a recording of the Proms was waiting for us at our destination! Ah, technology... As expected, all of Renée Fleming's contribution was just wonderful; my general disdain for the Proms and all things British turning into a faint flame of patriotism with her rousing rendition of Rule Britannia.</div><div><br /></div><div>So from a truly ancient, exotic and Orthodox tradition, to a very British, unruly and Tory one...who can guess who comes out on top I wonder...<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-38199240513627397362010-07-13T13:24:00.000-07:002010-07-13T16:13:58.817-07:00Giulio Cesare Glyndebourne 2006So from the shortest piece in the whole entire world, we move onto a full 295 minutes of pure genius, perhaps the finest opera seria ever written; Handel's <i>Guilio Cesare</i>. <div><br /></div><div>I sat down this morning fully intending to watch half an hour of the recorded opera on TV...but with a steady supply of coco pops and aria after aria, delight after delight - I couldn't take my eyes off it.<br /><div><br /></div><div>The opera itself runs like a 'Handel's Greatest Hits' and this particular award-winning production from Glyndebourne is both magical and imposing; transferred to the 20th Century British Empire, but with definite elements of visual fantasy. If I could, I'd just paste the entire opera on here, it's THAT worthy - but I'll have to choose my top-favourites...</div></div><div><br /></div><div>1) <object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/45NtdtsDn9k&hl=en_GB&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/45NtdtsDn9k&hl=en_GB&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>First is Sarah Connolly's (aka Giulio Cesare, the tyrant himself) first real beast of an aria <i>Empio, diro, tu sei </i>which he breaks into upon being presented with the head of his defeated enemy Pompey. Real typical Handel 'angry' aria, but its wonderful all the same - perfect angular line for the strings, with ample opportunity for a few vocal runs for old Cesare. Connolly is supremely convincing too - great acting throughout this - with subtle changes in the vocal colour to just give us a bit more extra meaning...that's all it takes! Only two unsettling things about this clip:</div><div>1) She looks suspiciously like Stephen Fry in the Giulio get-up</div><div>2) Sound's like she's singing about Gnocchi in the second phrase...which just makes me hungry...</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm disproportionately annoyed that my favourite Sesto clip (<i>L'angue offeso mai riposa</i>) doesn't appear to be on youtube...so I shall have to in fact settle on my 3rd favorite...as I've already written about <i>Cara speme</i>. All the same...its ACTUALLY amazing...</div><div><br /></div><div>2) <object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/okTC1i8yKLw&hl=en_GB&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/okTC1i8yKLw&hl=en_GB&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment is showed off wonderfully here, and someone is <i>really </i>banging out that harpsichord, which can only be good news. Nice example of the de capo (ABA) aria here as well, with an eerie little return of a melodic idea from <i>Cara speme</i> in the middle section. Angelika Kirchschlager is also completely believable as the pre-pubescent Sesto; artificially it may be the lovely bowl haircut, but it's more likely to be that lovely, innocent clear tone, a bit reminiscent of a boy soprano.</div><div><br /></div><div>3) <object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gHrEHfZydAM&hl=en_GB&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gHrEHfZydAM&hl=en_GB&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>This melody is heartbreaking. And there's something that I can't quite put my finger on about the orchestral accompaniment that's truly magical...it might have something to do with the fact that it's quite sparse and that Handel was THE genius of chordal progressions. Also, watching this is like a master class in how to breath properly - which was <i>definitely</i> what the costume designers had in mind when sketching up the possibilities -or lack of them- for this scene...</div><div><br /></div><div>You wouldn't believe how long it took to whittle this down to a mere 3 peices...and I'm even saving <i>Piangero, la sorte mia </i>until after I've learned it, in the hope that I'll have a bit more insight. But to sum up, I am NEVER deleting this recording from my sky+ library...unless of course someone would like to buy me the obscenely priced DVD? Any takers? </div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-87477703858793913672010-07-12T13:17:00.001-07:002010-11-04T15:26:45.915-07:00Deh, prendi un dolce amplessoIt seems that this is 1 of 1 mezzo-mezzo duets. And it's ABOUT 30 seconds long. This makes me disproportionately sad, as there is no better voice in the world than that of a mezzo! Seriously, being a mezzo is the ONLY way to maintain a bit of dignity - they're not screaming around desperately trying to hit the pitch that only dogs can hear, nor are they dying of inexplicable ailments, they're often the third 'most important' performer...basically - they're subtly awesome and therefore a bit more modest - so we can let them go a bit crazy if they ever stumble across Carmen or Amneris .<div><br /></div><div>I like Mozart though...not just for his general genius, but for this snippet of rare amazingness...</div><div><br /></div><div><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/nNl4loidA0Q&hl=en_GB&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/nNl4loidA0Q&hl=en_GB&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>Effort = 5 gold stars (only a few for the boy Mozart, he probably knocked this out in the time it takes to sing it) </div><div><br /></div><div>Harmony = 4,394,032 gold stars. Wolfgang, you absolute beast. This is gorgeous - the lower line caressing the upper one and mirroring it to ACTUAL perfection. Simple, yet supremely effective.</div><div><br /></div><div>Duration = -12 gold stars. This may just be a passing declaration of loyalty, but NOTHING in opera is duration realistic, we all know how long it can take those sopranos to finally pop their clogs.</div><div><br /></div><div>So overall that's 4,394,025. Not half bad, WE JUST WANT MORE OF IT PLEASE MR. M!</div><div><br /></div><div>Also a note to the set designer - office blocks + harpsichord aren't a <i>great</i> anachronism...but overall <i>bravo! </i>for a seriously ace production.</div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-60805044736809324892010-07-06T14:19:00.000-07:002010-07-06T15:00:25.947-07:00Renaissance...finally<div>Renaissance of MANY forms occurring here. Well...actually two. 1) Re-birth of the dreaded blog again after what feels like several years off whilst studying for final exams 2) Re-visiting the music of childhood...</div><div><br /></div>Reverting to my childhood might not have been the best plan for success in A level exams, but lullabies have pulled me through by far the most stressful days of my, albeit very short, life.<div><br /></div><div>First is this absolute gem by some guy I've never heard of. However, Xavier Montsalvatge is apparently very famous for his collection of songs for mezzo-soprano, the most celebrated of which has a title probably not approved of by the PC police: <i>Cancion de cuna para dormir un negrito...</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8-vDsMzyMyQ&hl=en_GB&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8-vDsMzyMyQ&hl=en_GB&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>The bit with the humming breaks my heart...I'm not entirely sure why. Anyway, this is genius. I'm very fickle with modern composition, but I don't even mind the dissonance in this...not sure how the dozing baby would feel about it...but it's good enough for me. Team that with my love for that instrument that's like a piano but isn't, and on the whole it's ace. Only as you can probably tell, I'm not 100% positive WHY I think it's ace...it just...is.</div><div><br /></div><div>Next on the track list of Now That's What I Call a Lullaby 65, is a tune that's been engraved (or should I say notated?) onto my mind, and most of our minds, since...well since birth. We have a cassette tape somewhere of my brother singing Brahms' lullaby, followed by some slightly less beautiful (actually, it's positively soul destroying) white noise. These two tracks were apparently the only thing that would get me to sleep. However, try as he might, I don't really think my brother could top this complete sweetness:</div><div><br /></div><div><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vltaK0XGzfM&hl=en_GB&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vltaK0XGzfM&hl=en_GB&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>Simplicity at its best...Lullabies must be the best stress relief around.</div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-71997301753698981972010-04-21T13:24:00.000-07:002010-04-21T13:34:32.627-07:00My two favourite things in the entire world...<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QncN0QWJ4R4&hl=en_GB&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QncN0QWJ4R4&hl=en_GB&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div>I knew I'd love this as soon as I saw the title. 'Sing'?! AND 'supper'...so many times have I tried to combine the two pillars of humanity; Food and Song. If I could only count the times I've been caught sneaking bites of toast, cake and other baked goods on the front row in choir...Rodgers & Hart combine the two far more successfully than I ever could. 'Sing for your supper' might have to be my new catchphrase :)</div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-31390979058402029022010-04-09T02:49:00.000-07:002010-04-09T04:42:43.596-07:00Questo e un nondo avviluppato<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/NB14yuKef1s&hl=en_GB&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/NB14yuKef1s&hl=en_GB&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div>Genius. My von Stade obsession continues - and who says obsessions are bad?! It's led me to possibly THE greatest recording of this truly awesome sextet...</div><div><br /></div><div>If there was anything to make me feel insufficient in the r-rolling department, it is most certainly this. I've just NEVER been able to do it...so judging from this video, that pretty much rules out me ever singing Cenerentola. Because, I mean, of course I could handle the ridiculous coloratura...it's just the r-rolling getting in my way.... :/ But my blatant singing impairment aside, I love the fact that they've taken this r-rolling business to the absolute extreme; something really to focus on. And boy have they got it perfect. Staccato + Rolled R's = My idea of Aural heaven. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm officially in love with von Stade's voice. She swaps between registers like she hasn't even heard of, let alone has, passagio...and it seems to come so easily that it seems like she's just speaking...just very relaxed and natural...I can't even really describe it all that well. I just know I love it. Lots. </div><div><br /></div><div>From all of the other recordings I've seen/heard, I gather that for a director, this is quite a difficult piece to place. I mean, it's hardly reality. This is by far the best version I've found, and the silhouette idea was a pure revelation - perfectly simple and un-showy, leaving us to appreciate the music. If only all directors had had this idea! A lot of the versions were more than acceptable (the most recent Garanca version and a Bartoli production from the 90's) though we'll glaze over a certain production where the director thought adding nursery rhyme-like hand gestures would add a certain je ne sais quoi...</div><div><br /></div><div>So it's a toss up now between buying the Met's new production with Garanca, or this film version from the 80's...my empty pockets are saying I have to choose...but I suppose there's no harm in having two Cenerentolas on the shelf right?!</div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-60963505084777962462010-04-08T11:07:00.000-07:002010-04-08T11:28:49.551-07:00Vaga Luna Che Inargenti<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/AwA7PVc3sBE&hl=en_GB&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/AwA7PVc3sBE&hl=en_GB&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div>Update: I've figured out how to embed videos which is a nice little technological advance for all 1.5 of you readers to enjoy! I do try to keep you all happy, though with so many readers it can be difficult ;)</div><div><br /></div><div>So, Vaga Luna Che Inargenti, a beautiful and sensitive art song by Vincenzo Bellini. Maybe. No one's really sure if it's his because it wasn't published in the Tre Ariette collection. But to my, albeit completely unworthy and naive ears, it couldn't be written by anyone else. The achingly simple melody, zero ornamentation, and phrasing that just gently folds in on itself seems to be everything that Bellini was ever about. What amazes me about this though is how someone could write such an utterly heart-rending, tear-jerking, pass-me-the-kleenex piece, <b>in a major key?! </b>Bellini's a legend.</div><div><br /></div><div>Subtle isn't a word that I would often attribute to Cecilia Bartoli. For me, the breathyness and the oddly elastic face get in the way for a lot of the stuff she does; sometimes it goes so far as to scare me ever so slightly. However her interpretation of this piece is really subtly sublime. Nothing's showy, and she's really <i>singing </i>the song. And that breathyness that I usually hate? I'm going to concede and say that for this piece, it adds a different sort of shading and dynamic that really works, showing the weakness of the singer for the love she's singing about. And she sounds just beautiful I swear, that's the only time I'll like it though :) She and the ever amazing Thibaudet work like a perfectly choreographed dance; both know exactly what the other's doing, the phrasing sensitively moulded by them both. </div><div><br /></div><div>So the poor neglected blog is slowly being revived :) but now I'm off to finish studying...and by studying I mean diligently reading Gramophone.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-78578718454097035042010-04-08T10:41:00.000-07:002010-04-08T11:02:27.265-07:00Blogging Renaissance<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/o7y3_SZqNi4&hl=en_GB&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/o7y3_SZqNi4&hl=en_GB&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div>This is the video that's getting me through Easter break. LOOK AT HER FACE! It's a) one of the best faces ever and more importantly b) look at the joy she gets from singing that lovely Mozart...and she makes it look so ridiculously easy. </div><div><br /></div><div>The legend that is Frederica von Stade came to me in a dream whilst I was camping on an interesting incline in deepest darkest Wales, squished against the side of a damp tent freezing my little fingers off. Not the first place you'd expect to find Flicka. But there she was in all her glory...on the same programme as me...her name was just above mine on the recital list...'In my dreams' quite literally. She gave me a brilliant and motivational speech, which though I was very impressed with whilst sleeping, couldn't for the life of me remember now. And then she sang to me like an angel. Oh and I wept in her presence...wept like a baby. Which was odd, as up until about a week ago, I'd only heard of her, never actually listened. Needless to say, it was possibly the best dream ever - if there had been any form of cake or baked goods it would have definitely been stuck at number one for the rest of eternity.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was slowly woken from this lovely alternative reality by a really worrying sensation due lack of circulation to my freezing extremities, and the wafting of men's deodorant from the tent next door indicated that it was time to get up for another day of ceaseless walking and generalised pain. It even got to the point where we'd step on sharp stones in an attempt to centralise the pain in one area, the masochists we are. Were it not for reminiscing over my dream (and of course the promise of a variety of sweets at regular intervals) I'm pretty sure I would have just sat myself down and refused to move.</div><div><br /></div><div>So now I'm officially von Stade obsessed, so you can imagine my slight over excitement when Gramophone sneaked us all a peak at their 'new look' May issue. Not only is there a feature on von Stade's retirement (why did I not find out about her sooner!?) but the cover feature is of her successor, the incomparable Joyce DiDonato?! I nearly died. Then, when I had regained the use of my limbs, got in my car and drove to the nearest Gramophone stockist...which when you live in a ridiculously tiny town is no small feat. BUT I HAVE IT. And my life for the moment is complete...until of course I've finished reading.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-24143705633236826362010-03-06T13:03:00.000-08:002010-03-06T13:39:57.079-08:00"Marche pour la cérémonie des Turcs"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQ31ETo7igr-HBp-q0OTgV3bUiueO2VlI_GqZaaS7pWdT6nz9bzbwSj1oSfjt-_nHvWxZsC1C1g030pDk6ra9VTQL7JCdLjHApYS4rXir3wCCRYeCVp_TIy3yjBOheOSzya-ORx518X0/s1600-h/IMG_1162.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpQ31ETo7igr-HBp-q0OTgV3bUiueO2VlI_GqZaaS7pWdT6nz9bzbwSj1oSfjt-_nHvWxZsC1C1g030pDk6ra9VTQL7JCdLjHApYS4rXir3wCCRYeCVp_TIy3yjBOheOSzya-ORx518X0/s320/IMG_1162.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445631265013674562" /></a><div>Finally, an update! So to avoid any further delay, I'll get right to the point :) Having just completed a wonderful Baroque course courtesy of county music, I've had a form of awakening: Baroque music is actually 100% amazing. I wrote, albeit a while back, that I was sent various pieces by the organisers, and once I'd chosen my ornaments, it was time for the fun to begin. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's safe to say that half term is usually spent either sleeping or eating...or, if you're extra special, a combination of both. However, never have I spent my time more wisely; mock me if you will, but I was inspired. I rarely get to sing with an orchestra, and having got used to the sparse sound of a piano accompaniment, I was in paradise with the rich sound that even a small Baroque orchestra can create. I love the constant need to tune; which may appear tedious, but is just a wonderful reminder to me of the perfection of live music-making. And what instrumentalists! I was in awe at the talent shown by such young musicians; virtuoso violinists, an intensely musical harpsichordist, and two young girls who sang Vivaldi's Laudamus Te like angels.</div><div><br /></div><div>So it was in this inspiring environment that I really<i> discovered </i>Baroque. Having got a hold of my Purcell and Arne arias, (the latter of which I was sure I would destroy, having not found a safety net in the form of a recording) I was left to lap up and appreciate everyone else's music; and the one that struck a chord with me, so to speak, was Lully's parody march, <b><i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81bxIH9uvhk&feature=related"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Marche pour la cérémonie des Turcs.</span></a></i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div>There is something so regal about this piece, with its strong, pulsating rhythm. And though it is so clearly a beautiful piece of French music, there is an obvious influence of the folk music of the east, maybe brought to the foreground with the drum; which just plants the image of beautiful Turkish men doing traditional dance...but perhaps that's just my mind wandering. I suppose my favourite part of this though, is the bit that we're all meant to hate because it just screams parody...but oh well. The Trills (yes they deserve a capital T) in the violin part, are simply to die for. I can't tell you the amount of times I rewound the recording just to hear them. Though, I'm yet to hear a recording that can live up to the wonderful playing of our lead violinist for the piece, Kate Fawcett. This was the last piece in our programme, and I know that we saved the best, 'light-hearted-est', till last.</div><div><br /></div><div>And finally, a picture of the ceiling of our 'classroom' for the week. I was obsessed with getting a photo of the fabulous room, though nothing quite fully captured what I wanted to. Though, all I had to do for my inspiration was look up.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyIjhowD55DFCRoQ94Xhzl56Q1UT77FGk0LTGWi3PcwGkS6kaMFNRxFxSjfvOY8lmbmv4oduMcOmAr5HzZ6CrAbCfxFbzvZsswKZl1vZxZAvo2Qh6xvhCEYw4kwmxUmlskCKKzd2eKCQ/s1600-h/IMG_1184.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFyIjhowD55DFCRoQ94Xhzl56Q1UT77FGk0LTGWi3PcwGkS6kaMFNRxFxSjfvOY8lmbmv4oduMcOmAr5HzZ6CrAbCfxFbzvZsswKZl1vZxZAvo2Qh6xvhCEYw4kwmxUmlskCKKzd2eKCQ/s320/IMG_1184.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445630770693501506" /></a></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-5820308249423998342010-02-21T07:10:00.001-08:002010-02-21T07:12:42.650-08:00February.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 <i>will</i> complete 365 days, but I plan for it not to go on for several years :)PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-5264924132462230702010-02-06T12:44:00.000-08:002010-02-09T14:24:17.799-08:00"Les Filles de Cadix"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvVra6_LURwPziQZDxK5BJo_KrKnBre5imY4jWyw0gQhv7U1dW_IUg4IENzZImCwgAstHaEIMG2SlPixWCdL95et4DH8nfqFO-YgnOgMCQsdLADEAed__u33w2Ls7f80RhwDY0EgeJNw/s1600-h/diana.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVvVra6_LURwPziQZDxK5BJo_KrKnBre5imY4jWyw0gQhv7U1dW_IUg4IENzZImCwgAstHaEIMG2SlPixWCdL95et4DH8nfqFO-YgnOgMCQsdLADEAed__u33w2Ls7f80RhwDY0EgeJNw/s320/diana.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435781009894026338" /></a>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*<div><br /></div><div>Is it just me, or does this piece sound exactly like it should be in Carmen? Composed in 1874, a year before <i>Carmen </i>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 <i>Carmen</i>. Who knows, maybe I'm just being a bit too investigative - but wouldn't it be strange...</div><div><br /></div><div>Though <i>Carmen</i> 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.</div><div><br /></div><div>What I really like about <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3J985S9Y6Ls"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b>Les Filles de Cadix</b></span></a> 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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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 :)</div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-69209941221177080922010-02-05T12:22:00.000-08:002010-02-12T13:40:11.863-08:00"Schlafe, mein Liebster"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyCZz5s0JHXyY6xEIauNBSuOK8kL41W9C_MoBtTmzc_M3xYlhtlvb4TSg7iVNRcGEr1brfas8-vuOOzROtDxSIR2bS131ns8AmqhVg6joLrFj0ISQtyHmCgvWxteCO2kxyNO8YN76f8c/s1600-h/bach.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKyCZz5s0JHXyY6xEIauNBSuOK8kL41W9C_MoBtTmzc_M3xYlhtlvb4TSg7iVNRcGEr1brfas8-vuOOzROtDxSIR2bS131ns8AmqhVg6joLrFj0ISQtyHmCgvWxteCO2kxyNO8YN76f8c/s320/bach.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435600154004500962" /></a>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 <i>Christmas</i> Oratorio...<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F3sBCuK1CIQ"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Schlafe, mein Liebster</span></b></a>. 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 :) <div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div> </div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>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.</div><div><br /></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-34893755057290396552010-02-04T15:07:00.000-08:002010-02-12T15:09:20.304-08:00"Ombra mai fu"<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qsK19Y3xO0fvLGHcDDSlZCoLBZNm_Q3l2dRgx-zv6mtiJVqyQmxS3au7SHzcBoMkbocRjNxnLz3STWA_DcKHBmq_eg38kHa_yT8RxiRVNSZbYYwgdBCJsgIJtSFchqfFEpAA09_a7Ys/s1600-h/sacraficium.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qsK19Y3xO0fvLGHcDDSlZCoLBZNm_Q3l2dRgx-zv6mtiJVqyQmxS3au7SHzcBoMkbocRjNxnLz3STWA_DcKHBmq_eg38kHa_yT8RxiRVNSZbYYwgdBCJsgIJtSFchqfFEpAA09_a7Ys/s320/sacraficium.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434529134510803042" /></a><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>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 <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MugXdU-h6UU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b>Ombra Mai Fu</b></span></a> from his opera <i>Xerxes</i> is one of the most beautifully calming arias I've ever come across. </div><div><br /></div><div>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;</div><div><br /></div><div><i>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.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>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...</div><div><br /></div><div>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. </div><div><br /></div><div>Handel was a legend, who could elegantly transform something that on the surface is about a tree, into something much much more :)</div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-56112873503308247002010-02-03T12:25:00.000-08:002010-02-03T12:33:02.545-08:00"Sola, sola in buio loco"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4pE2jygPVlQyck2yNFVAEuVGcrUAGQi_UAlpNWkpPys53t46qjipDnXzi0VQtEUtU18f4mOc18-rLa3T8hOOqeEeiYYnXddQaBsjNjz6PoxgeV5JCe_qJOXRbbI0ZIhICS-H8l9XtsY/s1600-h/don+giovanni.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 263px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4pE2jygPVlQyck2yNFVAEuVGcrUAGQi_UAlpNWkpPys53t46qjipDnXzi0VQtEUtU18f4mOc18-rLa3T8hOOqeEeiYYnXddQaBsjNjz6PoxgeV5JCe_qJOXRbbI0ZIhICS-H8l9XtsY/s320/don+giovanni.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434117522259030290" /></a><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DDWaYDfd-o&feature=rec-fresh+div-r-5-HM"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b>Sextet from Mozart's Don Giovanni </b></span></a>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-17658740694255305242010-02-02T12:17:00.000-08:002010-02-03T12:34:32.475-08:00"La Danza"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaNyC1d3o90u6Z4RWNMrNRZr5F3TTlqgcPGg-_TKJZE5pT0yZNlUcFotM9zFjYMVDxuEk3zIZQET9zWVS8IgHThjkskZQ0wH_rl1Y0kl2x9ikZkK5ZddftO0L1WNL2hYoIdbLT00J_e4/s1600-h/bartoli.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaNyC1d3o90u6Z4RWNMrNRZr5F3TTlqgcPGg-_TKJZE5pT0yZNlUcFotM9zFjYMVDxuEk3zIZQET9zWVS8IgHThjkskZQ0wH_rl1Y0kl2x9ikZkK5ZddftO0L1WNL2hYoIdbLT00J_e4/s320/bartoli.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434115824709548562" /></a>Rossini's famous tarantella 'La Danza'<br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1akjUNWv5ks&feature=related"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Cecilia Bartoli </span></b></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GxGpTME2Uqo&feature=related"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Ramon Vargas</span></b></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ris9h4tzKqxQCOWyYM_CaLeXkAjbPW6NZTxaNSHqiDe_eaPL_2bmrQTvOGxagXSD4sdCJqdlLx28fSyTAa4Z2p0gQFqiJPsv5OgB5FKMWMoab5pqsRBWtEZvij9XiHtQkvios3NdTAA/s1600-h/ramon.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ris9h4tzKqxQCOWyYM_CaLeXkAjbPW6NZTxaNSHqiDe_eaPL_2bmrQTvOGxagXSD4sdCJqdlLx28fSyTAa4Z2p0gQFqiJPsv5OgB5FKMWMoab5pqsRBWtEZvij9XiHtQkvios3NdTAA/s320/ramon.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434115520065778530" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-36149554262782993772010-02-01T11:35:00.000-08:002010-02-03T12:35:58.733-08:00"Come nave in mezzo all'onde"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bUNStN6pOIhLoLw5epku-oRUpvJwiq7IwDmoZz7tVnF6IB2P8tUQyOpkzizKc4lUgYjwoJSr0mza7AT9hDUrz6wO_fd4EKw3e3s2voVyWKcREtihg5qFJsLlS2RDQYPdC2BifuTMt4s/s1600-h/lava.jpg"><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bUNStN6pOIhLoLw5epku-oRUpvJwiq7IwDmoZz7tVnF6IB2P8tUQyOpkzizKc4lUgYjwoJSr0mza7AT9hDUrz6wO_fd4EKw3e3s2voVyWKcREtihg5qFJsLlS2RDQYPdC2BifuTMt4s/s320/lava.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434113898671150178" /></a><div><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYzqCz7J-W0"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b>Aria by crazy dancing soprano Simone Kermes </b></span></a></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-80854295600892012842010-01-31T11:20:00.000-08:002010-06-14T10:02:05.752-07:00"Drop in the Ocean"<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7EkEbJnYy8l2mIpKyo2En8VZqNs8RTzskftzXZ9xgNZhmYBTW4C3Pbal9wXO4p4H6MEx8q9LXMJ8Cak3AkzOFy0c4Ce9ja3ZH39_UOas_OLvyLozmJWfuo6NhZozovIPN0QX3JG_f8w/s1600-h/dawn+is+breaking.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP7EkEbJnYy8l2mIpKyo2En8VZqNs8RTzskftzXZ9xgNZhmYBTW4C3Pbal9wXO4p4H6MEx8q9LXMJ8Cak3AkzOFy0c4Ce9ja3ZH39_UOas_OLvyLozmJWfuo6NhZozovIPN0QX3JG_f8w/s320/dawn+is+breaking.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434103063796279778" /></a><div>It's safe to say, that I'm really jealous of Latvia. It's literally overflowing with choirs. Virtually every company, society, school sings. Singing seems to be an intrinsic part of their culture, and the quality that comes from this is outstanding. The 'Kamer...' choir that recorded this disc are a youth choir...once you listen to the piece you'll understand how unbelievable this is.</div><div><br /></div><div>I listened to what is apparently the best track on a disc bursting with virtuosity; and that is the effervescent and haunting, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ULz7Bp_i3sY"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">"Drop in the Ocean"</span></b></a>. Using text from Psalms and The New Testament, the composer, Esenvalds has succeeded in creating an arresting and original sound, that often mirrors it's title - each sound creating a ripple, that gradually builds into a full blown wave, before dying down once more.</div><div><br /></div><div>The piece is basically unaccompanied, a backing of eerie, haunting sounds being the only addition to the choir - and it doesn't exactly serve as a musical starting block for the choir anyway, who seem to have a magical ability to pick out the correct pitch from thin air. The pure sound of the choir really suits the religious theme of the text, and the pious sound is whipped into the 21st century with a good dose of chromaticism here and there. It's really breathtaking when the entire choir comes together, in a raucous, brilliant climax - which is set off by some great counter rhythm in what sounds like the tenor section. And this somehow disappears into thin air, as the phrases repeat, each time gradually thinning, before vanishing completely with some magnificent diminuendo. Though, this is far too complex for me to fully understand I think, unfortunately. It's beautiful to listen to though...and at least, thankfully, I can appreciate that.</div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-68331705022100054252010-01-30T11:12:00.000-08:002010-02-05T14:26:05.030-08:00"Where shall I fly?"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh94pbiWRrbSuSbeAKh2P8LoFQJfW01CR-Jz3um9NplUO0Pmo0skwaBEi_2x-r2BZsg2ysoUiOOQVrmpxpoMbjKl3ffbaSBDP51bFxFaA3K7SsjQrJ-FbR3vn3ojsPbG7VrhrqEplnCmnA/s1600-h/Furore.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh94pbiWRrbSuSbeAKh2P8LoFQJfW01CR-Jz3um9NplUO0Pmo0skwaBEi_2x-r2BZsg2ysoUiOOQVrmpxpoMbjKl3ffbaSBDP51bFxFaA3K7SsjQrJ-FbR3vn3ojsPbG7VrhrqEplnCmnA/s320/Furore.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434099076319558978" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIoOo1lgdGPz7nKpkqShT_-YfE3AnsMxBlLU0q0v-VOVHgaT1Vn1fWD3N0iAl06Sdp1CWUl3yKcE3B0DkTxRsLep6e7fFjlPqro8RcacFojBxanDeuMAPm5aJIXdkt6iPa1t3H3Pq51Kg/s1600-h/Furore.jpg"></a>I've become a complete Handel fiend...so I'm going to keep going in that direction I think :)<div><br /></div><div>In my meagre 17 years, I've come to realise that Handel must have been psychic. Or a woman. Or both. This may seem like a bit of an odd statement - but he seemed to really know the exact limits of the female voice, had the ability to write to the very boundary, and tiptoe along the line of the voice's capability. This makes for a) some brilliant music to sing and b) a great listening experience. This aria, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iOFHISqfwjk"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b>"Where shall I fly?"</b></span></a>, from <i>Hercules</i> must be one such boundary-tiptoeing example. Taken from Joyce DiDonato's collection of 'mad scenes', <i>Furore</i>, this aria is quite simply terrifying - especially when you see her amazing crazy acting...</div><div><br /></div><div>The aria, as the title of DiDonato's CD suggests, constitutes the mad scene, and the denouement, of Handel's musical drama. Hercules' wife, Dejanira, is pretty pissed at the thought of her husband returning home with a rival for his love: Iole, daughter of murdered King Oechalia. However Dejanira thinks she has and ace up her sleeve, and sends Hercules a robe that apparently possesses the power to restore his love for her. Little does she know that it had actually been poisoned by a centaur who was mortally wounded by Hercules. Dejanira is driven mad with grief and regret when she learns of her husband's death - resulting in the exert that I've been having a listen to.</div><div><br /></div><div>There are so many elements of this aria that just scream 'I'M ABSOLUTELY CRAZY', that it's going to be quite a challenge to just focus on a few. However, the first thing that arrests the listener is the very very busy orchestral accompaniment; it seems to mimic the thoughts that must be running through, and completely suffocating, this woman's mind. It seems to run away from itself, as Dejanira must be desperately trying to run away from the reality of her actions. This is interestingly contrasted by the eerily beautiful interlude, where she asks to be hidden from 'their hated sight' - the complete contrast in mood created by the different styles of expression, perfectly paints Dejanira's madness - as she skips seamlessly from one emotion to its polar opposite. Aristotle, the father has tragedy, has said that the perfect example of this genre must evoke 'fear and pity' in its audience - and this is certainly achieved here, as we travel with Dejanira through fury, grief, fear, and back again. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was scared watching DiDonato singing this. It's a truly amazing, yet terrifying experience - mainly for the fact that she completely embodies the character. Or maybe she is a little bit crazy; who knows! I love how she slightly lets her voice go - there is what seems like a subtle relaxation in relation to sound production which really allows all emotion to just pour out of her. There is a raw sound to all of it - some parts even verging on cultivated shouting - that just equal perfection for me. I now can't hear anyone else singing it. Plus, she's got the 'Hello, I'm mentally disturbed' anxious rocking down to a T. </div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-80750205944085451502010-01-29T11:09:00.000-08:002010-02-05T14:24:14.358-08:00"Fairest Isle"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wk5Iy7Z2Y9VYI1jERSL0FnAT97zTPZwDZ7TmhPljBmniC5AzW5pHRTbs9lP-GOdGUH1VrqHY9Xuef1q6Jn-Sa40eHSzYpWzMCFV02Q-P-tVibvs73t1zuXXpLWszyyMnFeNJ7N8AIPk/s1600-h/King+arthur.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 277px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6wk5Iy7Z2Y9VYI1jERSL0FnAT97zTPZwDZ7TmhPljBmniC5AzW5pHRTbs9lP-GOdGUH1VrqHY9Xuef1q6Jn-Sa40eHSzYpWzMCFV02Q-P-tVibvs73t1zuXXpLWszyyMnFeNJ7N8AIPk/s400/King+arthur.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433355097962454130" /></a>I've just been sent a bunch of sheet music by the lovely people at the Worcestershire Baroque Orchestra for a course/workshop I'm doing in a couple of weeks, and I was immediately drawn to this air from Purcell's <i>King Arthur</i>.<div><br /></div><div>Now, as I've probably said before, my sight singing is nothing like what it should be...I think a few decades of solfege is in order! So I can't say that I was drawn in by what I was hearing in 'my mind's ear'; no, it was purely for the fact that (and I quote myself directly here) 'this music's so old that the notes are written the wrong way!'. So with my<i> highly</i> intellectual and inspirational observation to spur me on, I dove into Venus' aria...</div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></i></div><div><i>King Arthur</i>, based on the legend of the man himself (amongst other works such as Shakespeare's <i>The Tempest</i>) , is a 'semi-opera' really...as the principal characters don't sing - you're only roped into that if you're a supernatural character; in this case, the goddess of love, Venus. Her only aria appears in the final act, as Britannia rises out of the waves, standing on the 'fairest isle'. </div><div><br /></div><div>The first thing that struck me about this was its overwhelming purity. The accompaniment is thin, mainly worked around the figured bass; so the focus falls entirely on the vocal line. Another interesting feature is the sort of mirrored rhythm that is repeated several times throughout; crotchet, minim, minim crotchet. Considering the piece is in 3/4 it kind of subtly stilts the flowing movement...I'm not entirely sure why though. I think it makes the melismas stand out though - and they're really the most heart-stopping thing about this...and make it obvious that it's Venus herself singing. There's an absolutely perfect example, that comes directly off the word 'excel' - the 'ssss' noise acting as a spring-board to the melismas which really do 'excel'...nice word painting there Mr. P.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sylvia McNair, who's recording I discovered on youtube, has an extraordinarily pure voice, which matches perfectly with Baroque style of course, but also with the context of the piece and the character. Also, the not overly operatic voice makes diction much clearer, and every single word is perfectly enunciated. The only problem with this is that I always feel English sounds a little strange...and can't compare with the poeticism of Italian, French, or even German. Then again...I wonder if native speakers of those languages feel exactly the same way? Who knows...</div><div><br /></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-79511347020723882382010-01-28T11:03:00.000-08:002010-01-31T12:22:00.076-08:00"Ohime, se tanto amate"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uGrviwGwrNpmkREKJYUVSnzffreEcXugMTOMhN_lxFR8aiWt7X9EkqE4XYKNZmyXoIN2PbQUQIXtTo2bqD10bcNQBjYTR0V85iacJbEJBFt_42WwXJHA0J8v17aLi3KN_CeAVVknrTg/s1600-h/monteverdi.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4uGrviwGwrNpmkREKJYUVSnzffreEcXugMTOMhN_lxFR8aiWt7X9EkqE4XYKNZmyXoIN2PbQUQIXtTo2bqD10bcNQBjYTR0V85iacJbEJBFt_42WwXJHA0J8v17aLi3KN_CeAVVknrTg/s320/monteverdi.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432982111794304562" /></a>Now time for a spot of musical innuendo, in the form the madrigal <i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbdpfOPJNFQ"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b>Ohime, se tanto amate</b></span></a></i> by revolutionary Renaissance composer Claudio Monteverdi! Yay! <div><br /></div><div>Some of Monteverdi's good old revolutionary ideas crop up in this madrigal, though he manages to weave them in to what was normal practice at the time. There's lots of false relations (like...notes moving to their next-door neighbour, so to speak, with no preparation) which was quite common at the time...but Monteverdi looks several centuries ahead of his time, including a lot of chromatic intervals...adding to what's already a bit a-tonal; there are 4 different keys within the first 4 bars!</div><div><br /></div><div>But now onto the slightly weird stuff...you'll see what I mean when you read a translation of the lyrics:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>Ah me, my lady, if you so delight</i></div><div><i>to hear a breathed 'ah me',</i></div><div><i>Why then so swiftly doom to endless night</i></div><div><i>A wretch that breaths 'ah me'?</i></div><div><i>For if I die, brief will your pleasure be</i></div><div><i>to hear one weak and anguished last 'ah me',</i></div><div><i>But if you grant me grace, my lady bright, </i></div><div><i>Then shall you hear my ecstasy</i></div><div><i>Ten thousand times breathe out a soft 'ah me'</i>...</div><div><br /></div><div>Right...Just listen to the piece and you'll see that Monteverdi was in fact very skilled in word painting. It's weird to imagine this being sung at a party somewhere...must have been like the Renaissance equivalent to having Eddie Izzard in to do stand-up; really rude, but funny all the same. Minus the cross dressing of course. What an odd twist that would be.</div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-15783350554284475292010-01-27T14:34:00.000-08:002010-01-31T10:15:51.085-08:00"Ye boundless realms of joy"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0IEcU_i-d9kWp5U0hbpJEXix8o9u7TwgaW5q69W0xPwecw7G3CMoQEwQ4FstXK-rWVgF-AL7qsJIOn8YSa9zY-SPA8VfBY5ZwS3Vfd3xhKqcQcVNnxvrEaf3wk_ycwrc1jmC7_nKp1Y/s1600-h/handel+chandos.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw0IEcU_i-d9kWp5U0hbpJEXix8o9u7TwgaW5q69W0xPwecw7G3CMoQEwQ4FstXK-rWVgF-AL7qsJIOn8YSa9zY-SPA8VfBY5ZwS3Vfd3xhKqcQcVNnxvrEaf3wk_ycwrc1jmC7_nKp1Y/s400/handel+chandos.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431553516195067986" /></a>I've just got back from Evensong rehearsal - and all I can say is - <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qu6EOcFnOX0&feature=related"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Anthem 18 from Handel's 'Chandos Anthems'</span></b></a> is <i>LOTS</i> of fun to sight sing. In the frantic effort to get in notes <i>and</i> words, it was a surprise I came through alive. But I did! Hurrah! <div><br /></div><div>Unfortunately we don't have a Baroque orchestra accompanying us, but I think I'd trade them any day for the wonderful acoustics we get in a Cathedral. One of my teachers has said that it's best to have lessons in a 'dead' room so that you're pleasantly surprised at even a <i>slightly</i> better acoustic - but there's nothing like the vaulted ceiling of a Cathedral to put a singer at ease!</div><div><br /></div><div>This, kids, is contrapuntal to the extreme...it was so mental to sight read whilst everyone was doing their own thing around you...though, that's a choir for you! Matters weren't made all that much better due to the interesting publication we had, which had a lovely octave G over the page turn...oh HI! However, no amount of moaning can detract from the fact that this is a lovely anthem.</div><div><br /></div><div>One of my particular highlights, is how every part comes from their different winding paths for certain important phrases such as 'His praise your song employ', 'above the starry frame'...and so on. Very simple, but has a very poignant effect on singer and listener alike I think. Though it's the weaving of the vocal parts that really pulls the listener along, and gives it that lovely baroque bounce :)<br /><br /></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-18765847394013708122010-01-26T13:07:00.000-08:002010-01-31T10:35:14.014-08:00"Dans le silence de la nuit"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6BQhxxAs2vzZjYxpNY1HQh8EWWeDUwDwZ6oGutn9-JYGEtgGtyrbDoKLibTfB8Fo-2A0_vnqItkmt1_uWbYJ2gJGLHeUzNt0hMnknZM4Pfy2MpoiC_zGVhstd_agF3CVS4J9AISAGIU/s1600-h/New+Pics+014.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6BQhxxAs2vzZjYxpNY1HQh8EWWeDUwDwZ6oGutn9-JYGEtgGtyrbDoKLibTfB8Fo-2A0_vnqItkmt1_uWbYJ2gJGLHeUzNt0hMnknZM4Pfy2MpoiC_zGVhstd_agF3CVS4J9AISAGIU/s400/New+Pics+014.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431160185094919538" /></a>I couldn't find a great picture to accompany this...so I settled on this photo I took whilst in Italy...I only wish I had fancy equipment so my camera could see what my eyes were seeing! But it captures 'le silence de la nuit' quite nicely...<div><br /></div><div>Firstly, I apologise for the massive error on the Fleming overload of late...but...I started listening to one thing...then was led to this...and I love, love, love that voice - just a pity about the shoddy French diction.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not entirely sure what to say about Rachmaninoff's chanson <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MK7MnxHKim8"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b>'Dans le silence de la nuit'</b></span></a> other than the fact that it's beautiful. In true Rachmaninoff style, the guy clearly couldn't quite stray from his beloved piano. The effect of staying faithful to his instrument is a subtle battle for the limelight between vocal and accompanying part. Unlike, say, a song by Brahms, the piano seems to exist separately from the vocal line (a bit similar to Fauré) - and could easily be separated entirely and played as a solo. However, the stunning, heart-rending effect comes when both strong lines play off each other, creating an emotional swell that vanishes into nothing... presumably <i>le silence de la nuit...</i></div><div><br /></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7284856484304637415.post-75901079749218947332010-01-25T13:42:00.000-08:002010-01-31T10:46:10.807-08:00"Ero desso, il figlio mio"<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGknHMDTRYf2C_H481kP9qC6qB9dK7gWKPjYWC8y-VP5F2o8YfZRF613U7A9SFreHU96mKs9GNEKgzFyLRRlgXAysrfWoXaaJXhlqEazsWk869AUiSgAu6XdqSTMSrkYhaEPDWjLconU/s1600-h/lucrezia.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGknHMDTRYf2C_H481kP9qC6qB9dK7gWKPjYWC8y-VP5F2o8YfZRF613U7A9SFreHU96mKs9GNEKgzFyLRRlgXAysrfWoXaaJXhlqEazsWk869AUiSgAu6XdqSTMSrkYhaEPDWjLconU/s400/lucrezia.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430799463819469522" /></a>Of all of the Italian beasts of Bel Canto composition, Donizetti is the one I am least acquainted with, so I hope <i>Lucrezia Borgia</i> is a good place to start...<div><br /></div><div>Based on Victor Hugo's play (which itself was based on the legend of Lucrezia Borgia), Gaetano Donizetti's opera didn't get off to the best of starts. When the opera opened in Paris in 1940, Monsieur Hugo said the production breached copyright and performances were forced to be cancelled. But the day was saved when someone had a stroke of genius and simply changed the Italian characters to Turks and slapped a new title on it; 'La Rinegata'. This was deemed sufficient for the French copyright bigwigs, and performances were resumed.</div><div><br /></div><div>The plot centers around Lucrezia Borgia herself; resident masked murderer and wife of the Duke of Ferrara. Gennaro is her son, though he doesn't know it yet, and in an act of defiance against the havoc wreaking Borgia family, he defaces the coat of arms outside the house, knocking off the 'B' to leave 'orgia'...and I'm sure you can guess what that means. Lucrezia is clearly pissed off and orders the vandal to be killed, though only just manages to give Gennaro the antidote to the poison given by the Duke, before imploring her son to escape from the city. Her thirst for murder clearly isn't quenched though, and in a revenge attack for a barrage of insults on her family, she poisons all of Gennaro's friends at a party. Only...Gennaro never left the city, and as his friends all die around him, he attempts to kill Lucrezia, who only narrowly escapes death by laying down the 'Stop, I'm your Mother' card. Lucrezia once again offers her son the antidote, but he choses to die with his friends; and in this final cabaletta <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dvsdiX_lSR4&feature=related"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><b>'Ero desso, il figlio mio'</b></span></a>, Lucrezia mourns her loss. EPIC.</div><div><br /><div>You can tell, from the very first beat of this piece that it's going to be tragic in truly epic proportions. Not only is the tragedy in place very quickly, but as is Lucrezia's love for her son. The powerful, almost violent, beginning suddenly gives way to a softer flute interjection; which is so reminiscent of Bellini's magic morbidezza. Thinking about this, of all of the famous Bel Canto composers, I'd say (from my very small dose of Mr. D!) that Donizetti seems to have an overall style of composition most similar to that of Bellini. Also, the first chord and subsequent pulsing violin accompaniment instantly (and oddly) reminded me of Prokofiev's ballet Romeo and Juliet for some reason...but either way, the stage is set for anguish and calamity before Lucrezia's even opened her mouth.</div><div><br /></div><div>And when she does, all of the musical forces of tragedy come together. In the version sung by Renée Fleming on youtube, you can sum up the entire piece by listening to the second word she sings - all of the anguish in her heart is pushed out like some grand scale catharsis on the word 'desso'. Fleming isn't well known for her Bel Canto technique, and therefore the cadenzas are a little more murky than what you'd expect from a singer experienced in this repertoire, however no one could fault her vocal acting, which is just superb. Her best cadenza is an 'improvised' unwritten one, where she goes up to an eye-watering G if I'm not mistaken, which is quite breathtaking.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'd be quite interested to hear a mezzo soprano singing this...Renée Fleming is great in that she has the dark vocal colour that is needed - however, this is lost slightly on the extreme lows. Though I'm not sure I'd trade those passing moments for the sparkling high register...though I suppose there are plenty of mezzos out there who can more than handle the two octave runs with impressive agility (DiDonato springs to mind...watch this space!).</div><div><br /></div><div>I wish Lucrezia Borgia was performed more often, as based on this short extract, I would most definitely buy my ticket; albeit the cheapest ticket 'up in the gods'...</div><div><br /></div></div>PiccolaSopranohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08884191358848972775noreply@blogger.com0