Renaissance...finally

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...

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.

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: Cancion de cuna para dormir un negrito...

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.

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:

Simplicity at its best...Lullabies must be the best stress relief around.

"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 :)