Monteverdi and Mannerisms

So, 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:

"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"

As I said - ace.

Right, so my introduction to this artist was through this clip of the Monteverdi madrigal, Ohime ch'io cado...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.

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.

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!

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 exactly 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!

ps. I want a viola da gamba...just thought you might like to know...

Vaga Luna Che Inargenti

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 ;)

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, in a major key?! Bellini's a legend.

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 singing 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.

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.

"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 :)

"Duet from 'Nina'"

And now to an Opera who's DVD cover makes it look like the love-child of hollywood director Tim Burton and little known composer Giovanni Paisiello; Nina.

The sentimental comedy that is Nina, is not very well known at all, in fact, according to the web, it barely exists at all. The only synopsis I can find is a vague one, but gives a bit of background to this wonderful duet.

So apparently I'm not that far off with the crazy Nina/Tim Burton description...as apparently Nina is a patient in a 'sanatorium', losing her reasoning due to her father's disapproval of Lindoro, her first choice for a husband. Though all is not lost, as Lindoro returns, and adopts the role of a friend when Nina doesn't recognise him. Through a series of hints, Nina slowly starts to realise who he is, and it ends happily ever after as they rejoice in their rediscovered love.

So this duet comes at the end of all this, when Lindoro has returned, and Nina is slowly coming to her realisation. Or she's already realised...I'm not entirely sure. There are several things that could be interpreted in both circumstances, so I'll give both sides. For example, there is a brilliant section, where both orchestration and vocal line, gallop ahead of the tempo set previously. This could indicate either a wave of realisation on Nina's part, that Lindoro is standing right in front of her. Or, considering the fact she's focused on removing his waistcoat, could be post-realisation excitement for who knows what...

When I first heard the music, I was immediately struck that it was a mix between Rossini Mozart-like orchestra accompaniment. There's something about the sweet, melodic line in some of the passages that so reminds me of phrases from La Clemenza, whereas the increasinly rhythmic focus as the piece goes on, makes me think of most Rossini compositions. There's also a violin phrase that comes inbetween vocal phrases that just has Rossini written all over it. Though this is just my ears, which may be a little uncultured...take a listen yourself to make up your own, probably more accurate, mind :)

It's interesting that Cecilia Bartoli is singing this role, written for a Soprano, even though she does have an impressive range. It's quite difficult to tell whether this is a wise choice or not, without any available comparisons, however, I enjoy the quality of her singing, which is so strongly based on the use of breath in rhythmic sections. Her face scares me slightly though; it's one of the most intense singing faces I've ever seen! I'm 100% sure that 97 year old, slightly blind Edna in the back row of the Met would be able to see every single one of her facial expressions. And that's no bad thing, she certainly tells the story! Jonas Kauffman on the other hand, is so relaxed in everway; vocal production and acting. That baritone quality of his tenor range really sets him apart from other tenors of his generation; creating a richness that you usually expect from the 'villian' and not the 'prince charming'.

I'm very excited that this is available on DVD...I may have to check it out on amazon.com - I'm becoming they're most valuable customer...