The Blagovest Ensemble & Last Night of the Proms

So 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!

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.

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 rich 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.

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.

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...

My two favourite things in the entire world...

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 :)

"Dans le silence de la nuit"

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...

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.

I'm not entirely sure what to say about Rachmaninoff's chanson 'Dans le silence de la nuit' 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 le silence de la nuit...

"Ero desso, il figlio mio"

Of all of the Italian beasts of Bel Canto composition, Donizetti is the one I am least acquainted with, so I hope Lucrezia Borgia is a good place to start...

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.

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 'Ero desso, il figlio mio', Lucrezia mourns her loss. EPIC.

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.

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.

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!).

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'...

"Pochudilis mne budto golosa"

I love Tchaikovsky more than most things in the world. There's something so richly melancholic about his intrinsically Russian music - I really really more than anything in the world wish I could be Russian when I hear any of his work - especially the vocal pieces; I have a particular soft spot for his Lullaby and At the Ball. Eugene Onegin was/is still, a total masterpiece; one which I can't fault in any way...especially when we have such a brilliant interpreter of Tatyana, and Russian music as a whole; Renée Fleming (yes...I may be a little bit obsessed...)

Anyway, I bought her CD 'Homage; the Age of the Diva' just the other day, and needless to say, skipped ahead straight to the Tchaikovsky - this little gem, 'Pochudilis mne budto golosa' from The Oprichnik...which I don't know at all...

From what I can tell from my sparse research, the Oprichnik were like mafia men/secret police for Ivan the Terrible in the 16th Century...carried such fashionable objects such as brooms and severed dogs heads...rode around on massive black horses in huge black cloaks...basically tortured everyone in the name of Ivan the Terrible...and all the time attempting to uphold the fact that they thought they were a bit like monks. As soon as Ivan realised he'd made a massive error, he disbanded these guys and made it punishable by death to ever mention it again. Way to end the terror there, Ivan, good plan. Anyway, seems to me an odd basis for a plot, even by operatic standards. Though, it does actually follow characters, set within this strange context; as opposed to Tchaikovsky being centuries ahead of his time and thinking 'hmm I know, I'll do a bit of docu-drama!'.

Anyway, legend has it that Mr Pyotr was largely displeased with the opera when he was getting going. In letters he was found to have said "I've been terribly lazy of late; the opera is stuck at the first chorus", that he'd "only written a couple of scenes". It seems to me though, procrastination whilst writing an opera is SO much grander then procrastination whilst...say...writing an essay. I mean, the guy's writing an OPERA - he deserves a break once in a while don't you think?!

So, Nataliya's Aria from this collection is beautiful. To be honest, I don't know the context of the piece at all, I only have a translation...so it's quite difficult to place it and make judgements about it - but I'll give it a go all the same.

The opening string melody (set under Nataliya's slight recitative section, where she questions whether she hears the sound of footsteps) for some bizarre reason makes me think thats she's escaped outside of a soirée somewhere, or that she's on the outside of some social breakdown...I think it must be the slightly distant style of the strings...and the text explaining how she "all alone" looking for a "glimpse" of her love. However, lets face it, looking at the history of the Oprichniks, something tells me there aren't going to be any lovely parties happening - it's just a strange interpretation I guess...I can't wait to see how completely wrong it is :) However, the pain which "stings [her] heart" really become obvious with the desperately soaring vocal line, perfectly displaying her anguish. The string accompaniment too, is a perfect example of Tchaikovsky's melancholic style. My absolute favorite part of the whole aria, is when the desperate searching for this "glimpse", which she prays to come "quickly"(nicely painted with the impatient movement forward of the music, like the thoughts rushing around in her head) is broken. What follows is a stunning prayer like lament - begging the wind to "carry [her] love back to her". It's like the musical equivalent of a roller-coaster. At the beginning, you're going down the steep drops, round the corners, feeling your stomach up in your throat. Then the string accompaniment rhythmically pulses and slows down as you reach the steep climb...you can feel the carriage pulling foward...then you reach the perfect moment at the top, when the momentum just carries you over the curve, into no-bars-held emotional free fall. The movement of this aria is one of the most heard rending I've heard - it's not only the notes that do it for me.

The thing as a whole is heartbreaking, and I love it, of course. There's nothing quite like Russian music, and it's certainly a favorite...I may explore some more...watch this space :)

Richard Eyre's "Carmen"

It's 11.30 - and thus ends one of the most awesome cinematic experiences of my life- ever. And that is by no means an exaggeration. I've just got back from the Met's live broadcast of Richard Eyre's production of "Carmen", and too emotionally drained to write about anything else, I figured I might as well write about this :)

Bizet's masterpiece, Carmen, is amazing. I'm going to go out on a limb here and say it's one of the most appealing operas ever written. That doesn't mean the best necessarily; but you could go to Carmen at any point in your life, on any day, at any time - and get lost in the drama. I was discussing this with my friend Anna as we were sitting amongst our white haired counterparts, and we settled on the fact that it works so well because you have the marriage of a stunning score and gripping plot. This may seem pretty obvious, but if you look at some other opera's that are less 'easy' to listen to then you'll see what I mean. Der Rosenkavalier, for instance, is stunning because of the music - the plot line is a little bit wacky, and it's generally believed that you have a better understanding of it later in life. Eugene Onegin, my favorite opera of all time, is a tale of very frustrating non events. In Carmen however you've got music, intrigue, seduction, love, lust, deception, betrayal, murder...and apparently comedy.

I can safely say that everyone in the theatre fell in love with Elina Garanca over the course of the opera. I wouldn't be surprised if every man and woman in that theatre was seduced by her intelligent, sultry, and witty interpretation of a role so open to cliche. I was eavesdropping a bit in the theatre, and most people confirmed my belief that she's such a convincing and natural actress that it's hard to believe she's doing all that whilst singing with such technical security (and sometimes dancing as well!). The amount of comedy that she brought to the table, be it by teasing the officers or doing bizarre bugle impressions, gives the Carmen that we all know so well, a realistic and 3 dimensional edge. And who knew eating an orange could be so seductive? But what she really pulled off, was the element of spiritual freedom (with which she tempts José in the second act) as well as a perfect dose of nonchalance; she was like a sly cat playing with the poor little mice before eating them. This made the whole journey of the character, and her swapping from man to man, much more believable. This is just perfectly demonstrated after poor Don José pours his heart out to her, in a 'bravo!' worthy rendition of 'La fleur que tu m'avais jetée'. She keeps her facial expression the same throughout, only to blow away the dried leaves of the flower which José holds out to her. It got quite a laugh from the obviously sadistic opera fans.

And I haven't even started on her voice! But it won't take long. It's just amazing :) The richness and depth has certainly developed even since the autumn run at the ROH. 'En vain pour éviter les réponses ameres' was even more moving second time round, because of the intensity and resonance of the lower register. And of course, she more than pulled off the old war-horses with a combination of the heart-stopping voice and, surprise, surprise - doing away with all cliché.

Roberto Alagna, reprising his famous Don José, was the perfect puppy-dog come pit-bull. I heard on the opera grapevine that he had a cold prior to this performance, but you wouldn't tell thanks to that impeccable voice, with some really stunning pianissimi. Hats off as well, to stand in Baritone, Teddy Rhodes, who must have been really wetting himself, having only got the call 3 hours before curtain up. He greatly surpassed Ildebrando d'Archangelo in the ROH production, bringing a brilliant mix of testosterone and a surprise hint of modesty to the role. I was also pleasantly surprised with Barbra Frittoli's Michaela, whom I always feel is a bit wet and no competition for Carmen whatsoever. However, Frittoli's colour is much darker than what the role usually demands, adding to an already stoical interpretation of what is essentially a meek character. The level of singing was so high, that the cast generally achieved what, paradoxically, every singer sets out to achieve; to make the audience forget they are singing.

Richard Eyre challenged so much of the stereotypical elements of Carmen with a stunning set, and all-round intelligent interpretation. I feel like I've seen a completely different opera to my ROH experience. First time, I felt that the love between Michaela and José was a one way street, with poor, annoying Michaela's love unrequited. This time, the clear passion, feeling and understanding between the two characters gave the whole turn of events not necessarily a different meaning, but certainly highlighted Don José's changing character and motives. I was also greatly touched by Carmen's declaration of love to Escamillo in the final scene, feeling that instead of it being Carmen at her old tricks again, this time she really meant it. Which of course makes her untimely murder all the more tragic.

Never have I seen such an intense final scene in opera. The murder of a mezzo soprano is so much more exciting than the slightly random death of the consumption riddled sopranos...yes I mean you Violetta/Thais/Mimi/Manon. But in this scene, I thought I was having a minor heart attack, my heart was racing that much. I know the story, I could hum 'C'est Toi...C'est Moi' to you right now; but the connection between the two protagonists was just unreal. That is, unreal in the sense that it was hard to believe such a 'real' connection could be achieved on stage. I felt I was witness to real events unfolding before my very eyes. My friend, and opera companion, Anna, was in a fierce battle of wills, knowing that Carmen is murdered in the end, but still holding out that every time José lets her go, he might not try again. This production didn't need black stallions, donkeys and chickens, as in Francesca Zambello's rustic staging - it was the chemistry between the characters which electrified the audiences.

And to top it off, who should be presenting the HD broadcast but the Met's very own darling, Renée Fleming; who, as always, added to the experience with some wonderfully insightful questioning of the cast, conductor and choreographer.

All in All? Without doubt 11/10

"Nel suo amore rianimata" and a bit of a rant...

Before I get the music related stuff going, just wanted to include this picture I took of my beautiful 10 year old cousin Megan 'singing opera'...would you look at that relaxed jaw!

I love this CD. It's the type of thing that you can listen to over and over again and not get bored of it :)

I'm in a group on Facebook who claim that 'you either love or hate Renée Fleming's voice' - however, as a definite lover, I'm really in the dark as to how you could hate it. Even my mother has said (I quote), 'Oh she has a nice voice...she makes those high screechy bits sound not so high and screechy'. That, folks, is praise indeed.

The recording of "Nel suo amore rianimata", from Giordano's Siberia, didn't initially grab me. The CD's full of hidden treasures (amongst the old war horses like "Si, mi chiamano Mimi") and for the time being I was far more preoccupied with the other tracks. It took a two minute performance slot on the Craig Ferguson show for Ms. Fleming to really sell this piece for me - and boy did she!

The simplistic piano reduction of the orchestral score, is present enough to hold the piece together, but sparse enough for the vocal line to really ring out...I've never heard a studio audience so at peace! It's not a 'rangey' aria by anyone's books; and it's the sustained melody and then sparkling climactic high notes that Renée does so well - and she's really allowed to shine with this arrangement. The music and the text are so deeply poetic that I simply fell in love with the entire thing. I've spent more time than I should trying to find a copy of the music, orchestral or otherwise, but to no avail!

As Siberia is not the best known opera in the world, it's sad that pieces like this never really come to light. In my opinion, it's fantastic that Renée Fleming is confident enough to perform such a rare piece with such conviction and poeticism on national television; a format where opera is not used to such exposure. Sure, we have Nessun dorma, and the Habanera - but just how many people have heard of Turandot? Carmen?

So you can imagine how excited I was when I heard that a new show about opera was coming to British television screens. This feeling ceased very quickly when I heard the name of said TV show; 'Popstar to Operastar'. Now, I'm all for opera exposure but here are my main problems with this concept: (prepare yourself for my inner grumpy old woman...)

1) Popstars will be coached how to sing in the operatic style; not only does this take years and years to develop, it's actually very dangerous if done incorrectly - these guys surely have careers to maintain after doing this show?!

2) If the aim of the program is opera exposure, they may be going about it the wrong way - taking the arias out of the exciting and dramatic context. If we want people to be interested in opera, surely we could broadcast more live productions; not just stand and sing the same old tunes.

3) Host Katherine Jenkins has never been in an opera during her professional career, and co-host Andrea Bocelli is only slightly better for having been involved in a handful - surely the competitors are setting off on the back foot anyway, and deserve input from people actually involved in the opera industry (not to mention the fact that this'll give a false impression to the TV viewers)

Rolando Villazon is the only saving grace of this new show, and I really hope that he kicks some butt and brings everyone down to earth a little bit - in a way that only a 'primo uomo' could.

Massive rant. BUT - I want to connect the two subjects by saying that if we want to get opera into the public eye, we need to take a leaf out of Renée Fleming's book (and if you haven't read the ACTUAL book, I suggest you do!). We need real, technically secure artists, acting and interpreting new extracts. We need live broadcasts of new productions, to bring the story and the context alive; to give people a real idea of what opera is all about - not simply a commercial TV show capitalising on renewed interest in classical music thanks to the winners of other reality TV shows...

Rant over. The End.

Tomorrow: "Priveghiati si va rugati" from the Romanian Orthodox Church repertory

"Poèmes pour Mi"

I want to like this. I should like this. I'm not adverse to a bit of 20th century dissonance - I'd even go as far to say that I like it. I love French. The autobiographical love story is beautiful. I love Renée Fleming, whom I first heard singing these poems which for which Olivier Messian set his own text. So why aren't I moved by this celebration of the spirituality of love?

I think, from writing that little rant about my narrow-mindedness, I've stumbled across my problem...

I imagined that listening to the Poèmes would be a similar experience to hearing Richard Strauss' Vier Lezte Lieder; being flooded with emotion and beauty from the very first note. But this didn't happen to me with the Poemes.

This Strauss/Messiaen comparison may be an odd one, but the music stereotype side of my brain wants to swap the stormy dissonance of the Poemes, and instead give them the glorious gentleness of Strauss' (also autobiographical) masterpiece, which convey love and nostalgia so perfectly.

As well as this gentle portrayal of love, (as in countless lied, especially Schubert's "Du bist die Ruh") we have become accustomed to Puccini-esque soaring strings as a musical symbol too; we hear it and straight away we go 'AH...LOVE', just like we hear a minor key and think 'AH...SAD'. Dissonance just doesn't do love...right?

But maybe it does; it's certainly growing on me! Having listened to it non-stop for about an hour, I've realised that what I first thought was dissonance, has now sort of grown into a polymodality...it's not as chromatic based as I thought it was - it simply keeps on changing. This is quite clever really, because if you look closely at the text, it’s also focused around change; going from marriage preparation to a spiritual union.

I always struggle with identifying time signatures - I don't know why, it's just always been a bit of a tough gig for me. So I thought it was just me being stupid when I just couldn't stick to a set time signature - but apparently it seems that Messiaen couldn't either; the original Piano composition didn't have one at all. This clearly suits, and helps to paint, the free spirituality of the text - the soloist liberated to float the melodic line to her heart's content - as well as have a bit of fun with those melismas!

For me, it's the text that makes this, with truly haunting words; Olivier was quite the poet! In this video clip, Renée Fleming describes the poetry with much more poise and grace than I could possibly attempt...

Despite my initial negativity, this poem cycle is far, far from a letdown - and I have a favourite poem :) "Printemps Enchaine". It just seems it's going to take a bit of work - and more than one listen - to hear this cycle's full beauty. I'd love to be able to sing this at some point - it seems like a piece you need to dive into and sing before you really get to know, and understand, exactly what it's saying.

Tomorrow: Fauré's "Cantique de Jean Racine"