"Marche pour la cérémonie des Turcs"

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.

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.

So it was in this inspiring environment that I really discovered 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, Marche pour la cérémonie des Turcs.

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.

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.

February.

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

"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 :)