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Dr Atomic

 I went again on 16 March and I so enjoyed it. It was almost the perfect night out, except for...take this for audience bad behaviour...the bloke in front of me was really off-putting. He made various noises at different stages, like, when the music was getting emphatic, he went 'bam bam bam'. That was nothing though, compared to the fact that he spent the entire performance standing up waving his arms around. I wasn't the one who noticed, the orchestra spent most of the time looking at him,and the singers did a lot of the time.

Yes! I was so on the front row I could have touched Lawrence Renes!

It was a treat for me to be in the stalls, but I think I am going to do so again. Far more comfortable, and the absence of the miserable gits of the Upper Circle (Rear) make it worth every penny of the £76. Okay, I had an Essex blonde next to me, but you can't win them all.  The difference in one's perception of the performance is enormous. I had enjoyed it from Upper Circle but being so close to the stage meant that I could appreciate the fine acting even more - step forward the sublime Gerald Finley.

And perhaps even better than being in close proximity to the pit. Of course this meant that I could see the percussion, or, at least the timpanist and tubular bellist. And the climax - oh my! As a side issue, when the 'gadget' lowered for the start of Act I Scene iii and a high pitched warning siren went off, all the orchestra put a finger in at least one ear, as if it was choreographed.

The opera starts with the periodic table (or, at least, I guess, the 1945 periodic table) being projected onto the curtain. It wasn't quite in focus so I was not able to read it well. I reflected that there was a time when I knew at least what the top few rows abbreviations were for, but my memory has faded. I heard the bloke behind me explain it to his companion, who I took to be an eight year old child - 'there are some elements on there that are very obscure, did you know that Fe stands for iron?'. I looked round and saw the companion was a woman of my age; I would have clocked any man who had spoken to me so patronisignly.

It goes without saying that the absolute highlight of the performance was Gerald Finley, in every way superb. I love his voice; I love his high notes, I love his low notes, and I love his legato. I love the mellifluous tone, the absolute consistency in his delivery, never the slightest question of pitch, never a hesitation, nothing that jarred even minutely. When I say consistent, I certainly don't mean undifferentiated or bland, because his voice is expressive, a fine example of great vocal acting. It is for all these reasons that I love listening to his CDs.

But with Gerald Finley, you don't only get the great vocalism, you also get the great stage presence. When I had seen it from up on high, I had been impressed by his stage presence, and I got a real sense of the persona of Robert Oppenheimer. Seeing it from close up I began to understand why I had got this sense. It isn't in the grand gesture or histrionics (although thinking back to his Mozart Conte at ROH, he can do those as well!), but in the subtlest of movements. I watched how he reacted to other characters, the dismissive jerk of the head, or the raising of the eyebrows. Up in the Upper Circle (rear) you don't get the nuances for £28, but you do get the overall impression of what's happening.

I think I may be repeating myself but the highlight of Gerald's amazing performance was Batter My Heart, which had been on pretty much constant ear worm for two weeks. When the strings played the opening chord, the hairs on my arms stood up, when the woodwind entered, a lump appeared in my throat, and the percussion caused tears to well up in my eyes. I know you are expecting me to say that Gerald's opening 'Batter...' caused the tears to fall. But no, because I was reeling from the impact of being thrown back against my seat. As an aria it has everything. The agitated high strings and percussion, the languid brass and low strings, the urgency of the woodwind - that incessant driving onwards od the beat and the music. If you think it's good on YouTube, it is even better live!

The music was definitely one of the highlights. I would say it is definitely worth getting to know. I guessed that, how many years ago,  when I first heard the audio broadcast from San Francisco, but I need visual stimulation for music really to sink into my heart. I finally got to hear the Wagnerian influence that people have been going on about; I then got a strong sense of Bernstein and overheard someone else saying the same. Finally, I got a hint of Angelo Badalamenti.

Not a one man show - the trio  of Brindley Sherratt, Thomas Glenn and Jonathan Veira, anyone of which could have stolen the show from a lesser lead than Gerald. I was again impressed by Meredith Arwady as Pasqualita the Tewa maid. Again I was unimpressed by Sasha Cooke (strangely, the only singer ever I have seen twice from the front row of the stalls!), but I wonder if it was because her vocal line was written so unmelodically. Ironically, my earworm the day after was her haunting opening  'Am I in your light?' - which was the nearest it got to melody.

You know, this opera has totally got to me. I have to confess that my main interest in it for the past three and a half years has been Gerald Finley, and I vowed ages ago that I would go and see it more than once even if I really hated it. I have often argued that it's okay to have singer 'crushes' if those crushes lead you to works that you might not otherwise have been drawn to; this is entirely vindicated by this. It's difficult to imagine it without Gerry, but, at the same time, I really appreciate the music. Furthermore, I am going to put my head above the parapet and declare that I also love the libretto - shock, shoot me down!

I accept that the libretto is disjointed and often impenetrable; I accept that the characterisation is less than fully rounded. And yet, that isn't really the point. It was a snapshot, just a few days in the summer of 1945.

As a former member of CND and a continuing unilateralist, I did ponder the extent to which the ethics of the bomb were discussed. Basically, they weren't, very much. It was largely a scientific project and there was discussion of how one of these bombs would compare with a conventional bombing raid. There was mention of a letter from someone one who raised about whether the entire German nation was culpable for the war that had just ended in Europe. And the very end of the opera was a poignant recording of a Japanese woman asking for water for her child.

I don't think the moral near-vacuum diminishes the opera. I don't think I can project my 80s sensibilities onto 40s people and expect them to have my concerns and the benefit of my received hindsight. I suspect that is often the case in the world of scientific development. But I certainly don't think it glamorised nuclear war, nor did it even pretend to address Cold War issues.

Overall, it was an excellent night out, and I hope it gets revived soon and becomes part of the repertory.

I managed to get a couple of curtain call photos before an usher started waving at me.

More Dr Atomic links

It’s not often that my interest in Opera overlaps significantly with my career in Physics

And of course there’s that aria...it is truly wonderful, especially when sung as it was last night by the flawless Gerald Finley

Waiting for Detonation

The act ends with Gerald Finley’s Oppenheimer, alone on stage for the first time, singing John Donne’s Holy Sonnet 14: “Batter my heart, three-person’d God.” The alien beauty of the words, the pounding orchestral accompaniment, and Finley’s lone, tortured voice combine in one of the most powerful moments I have ever experienced in an opera house...Gerald Finley has sung Oppenheimer in every performance of the opera since the premiere, and one can hardly imagine anyone else in the role, so commanding is his presence on stage.

Dr Atomic links

John Adams goes nuclear with Doctor Atomic

Preview

Doctor Atomic: Opera's biggest bang:  Film-maker Penny Woolcock is making her stage debut with an adaptation of John Adams's opera Doctor Atomic. She talks about Shakespeare, hip hop and being moved to tears by music.

Uncommon man: John Adams's operas have laid the foundations of a distinctively American classical tradition. But, outside Carnegie Hall, the United States remains a nation profoundly uncomfortable with high culture

Big bang theory: Dr Oppenheimer was a brilliant, passionate man who invented a terrible weapon. Gerald Finley talks to Martin Kettle about bringing him to life

Doctor Atomic: Opera goes nuclear

John Adams: Doctor Atomic from Musical Criticism -  a long and somewhat technical piece, but worth a read, I think, despite sentences such as They appear as facile, dichotomised representations of moral alterity and the forbidding white text on blue background. Awards four stars

(In) Batter my heart... Gerald Finley, suddenly recognises the portentousness of his actions and pleads with the three-person'd God to 'break, blow, burn and make me new'. Adams thrusts upon the audience a monumental paragraph in D minor (a stark contrast to the previous unstable chromaticism), a passage of stormy inner turmoil to match any in recent music theatre. Finley, ...sputters out this poem, violently razing his previous arrogance, unexpectedly bringing to the fore the moral complexity of the events around him. Finley is magnetic throughout the work, his stooping self-assurance is a constant thread of certitude, and his thundering yet curiously restrained recitations carry the violence of the subject forward up until the successful test.

Dr Atomic performed by the ENO at the London Coliseum, review: John Adams's opera about the atomic bomb doesn't quite ignite.

Gerald Finley sings magnificently as Oppenheimer, even if his expression of slightly baffled anguish becomes monotonous

A few atoms short of critical mass

The excellent Gerald Finley...sings with a magnetic beauty that his unsympathetic character hardly deserves

Dr Atomic - English National Opera

at the heart of this piece is the performance of Gerald Finley... With effortless fluidity Finley’s melodic and pure baritone voice transports his feeling throughout the Coliseum, drawing all into Oppenheimer’s fall from assured proud excitement to tight grief as, in the eclipse like shadow of his bomb, he begins to awaken to the full potential of his creation crying ‘Batter my heart, three-person’d God’.

This is a tour de force moment of operatic composition with score, libretto, performance and setting leaving a blinding imprint on the mind of every person who lives under the shadow of atomic war fare today.

Booming voices in Doctor Atomic 4 stars

Gerald Finley is magnificent here and throughout as the tortured Oppenheimer.

Doctor Atomic at the London Coliseum 4 stars

Silverfin's review

Finley is becoming one of my favourite singers, and was a charisma machine in complete command of his role, showing a three-dimensional character conflicted about his success in developing a world-changing engine of destruction. ‘Batter my heart’ was probably the highlight of the evening.

MusicOMH's review

Batter My Heart...proved the musical highpoint of the first act in the work's UK premiere, Gerald Finley singing with barely concealed dramatic passion in the title role, while the orchestra, under the direction of Lawrence Renes, through out a particularly biting accompanying sequence.

Adams Doctor Atomic, English National Opera, London Coliseum

This aria, heart-rendingly sung by Gerald Finley, is the detonation in Oppenheimer’s soul which triggers the big bang. You can already find it on You Tube and it might just be the single most beautiful thing Adams has ever written.

Doctor Atomic is an opera, not a history lesson

Doctor Atomic, Coliseum, London

for eight glorious minutes it's just one man and his gadget and the first great operatic aria of the 21st century: "Batter my heart, three-person'd God".

Doctor Atomic (white text on black background)

Teenage Theatre Critic (who must surely be due a name-change sometime soon!)

"Batter My Heart" is an air of such quality that it could (and I dearly hope will) happily sit in the annals of great operatic numbers.

Gerald Finley has owned this role since the premiere of the opera in 2005 and I can't imagine a finer performance. Finley has starred in an eclectic series of roles in London recently and this is yet another stunner to add to the list. The role doesn't sound a particularly difficult one vocally but that might just be a result of his marvellously potent baritone and confident delivery. His diction was impeccable (as was that of most of the cast) and his acting unsurpassed. In the pantheon of great performances, Finley's Oppenheimer ranks high.

A big bang

Gerald Finley plays the troubled J Robert Oppenheimer, whose "Batter My Heart" setting is surely the finest aria written since Puccini. Over a huge range, Finley's voice has no discernible gear-shifts or squeezed notes. His seriousness and sensitivity are affecting.

Dr Atomic is Da Bomb

I have just got back from this at ENO.

As a side note, it was a good thing I checked my ticket, because I thought it would start at 7 or 7.30; turns it started at 6pm. I was lucky that public transport was all in my favour because I arrived with just ten minutes to spare before it started.

I really really enjoyed it (well, except for the chorus of coughing and talking in the Upper Circle). The absolute highlight was Gerald Finley! No surprise there! And the highlight of his completely excellent performance was Batter My Heart.

If I thought this was good in mp3, and very good on YouTube and excellent in the cinema, I simply do not have the superlatives to describe how it sounded live.

It is a piece of sheer genius, one of those 'time stands still' arias. I find the words quite difficult to understand (I mean the way John Donne wrote them; Gerald's diction is excellent), but I am beginning to understand them.

The music is mesmerising, screechy strings and the syncopated drums, bringing Act I to a glorious climax. And Gerald's voice is gorgeous. Obviously. Gerald's voice is always gorgeous, it has this beautiful lyric quality combined with dramatic expression, and an impressive range of notes. On top of all that he is an amazing actor. Most of the time that he was on stage I kept my binoculars focused on him; especially during this aria, when he embodied the torment of a man struggling with his conscience.

I would be lying if I said the rest of the opera is as good as this aria. It isn't. I still don't think it's a great opera, although it's important and worthwhile. (And I'm not sure how I would feel about anyone else as Robert Oppenheimer). I think it's a bit long. I decided that I would cut out the scenes involving Kitty. I know it's an attempt to portray Oppenheimer as more than just a Scientist, but, actually, I think the work would benefit from a tighter focus just on the project - we know they're all human beings, we can assume that everyone working on it had some sort of private life.

I'm not sure it was the way the role was written, or the singer, but it was the worst part of the opera. I don't think that Sasha Cooke was particularly bad - I have heard her before, in the minor role of Second Priestess in Iphigenie en Tauride - but I don't like her voice and I think her portrayal suffered from an inability to project beyond the stage. The only trouble is, I think if the Kitty bits were cut they would also have to cut the bits with the maid, Pasqualita, which are important because they highlight the Native American connection with nature - and I do very much liek the rich deep contralto tones of Meredith Arwady.

The rest of the cast was strong, definitely one of the very best that ENO has turned out, in my albeit limited experience. And the orchestra was fabulous. I overheard someone saying "That must be the most difficult opera ever written for an orchestra". Of course, that comment immediately provokes me into a desire to counter it, but the way she subsequently talked made me think that she - unlike me - actually knew what she was talking about.

I loved the orchestral writing and I loved the orchestral playing. My favourite bits of the score were those that were most noticeably serialist. Of course, I particularly noticed the percussion; also some nice piccolo work and some muted trombones.

I can't stand it when people make out that opera is just about singing. Obviously, in a way, it's the singing, and the orchestra, that distinguishes it from straight drama. And it's the staging, costumes, scenery, lighting etc that distinguishes it from oratorio, and together with the orchestra, is what distinguishes it from Leider. And this is definitely an orchestra-driven opera.

I was asked yesterday to explain the synopsis, a question which defeated me - it's about people discussing the build up to the testing of the Atomic bomb in Los Alamos. There is no story as such. The libretto is growing on me. Like most people, I was inclined to regard it as the weakest point in the work. Put together from letters and diaries, and excerpts form the Bhagavad Gita and sonnets of John Donne, it's a gallimaufry of words rather than a structured drama.

I am not really sure what to think of the production. I have just remembered that I have been meaning to get the Amsterdam DVD; everyone who has seen both productions prefers the San Francisco/Amsterdam/Chicago version to the New York/London one. I don't find anything to criticise about the production, although I don't have the Amsterdam one to compare with it. But I don't think it's anything special. It has some interesting scenery and some clever effects, but it has to score a major minus point for the fact that I could see an on-stage light being manoeuvred by a stage hand whilst the stage was rotating.

I'm going again in a couple of weeks, and have a seat on Row A of the Stalls, so I shall write more about the production, and, of course, about the incomparable Gerald Finley. I

Batter My Heart

It is just over a week that I went to see the New York Metropolitan Opera's John Adams's Dr Atomic transmitted live to Clapham Picturehouse  - in HD, as all the publicity emphasises. This is the production that has just finished its try-out run in New York before making its world premier at English National Opera next year. There is a previous production that debuted in San Francisco, got recorded for DVD in Amsterdam and transferred to Chicago.

I intend to see the London production at least twice and will review those performances in depth, from within the house. I have listened to an audio recording (from SF) a couple of times but haven't yet watched the Amsterdam DVD. I think my enjoyment of the HD broadcast would have been improved by better 'homework', but I already planned it to be part of my 'homework' for ENO.

I can't say I love Dr Atomic as an opera, in the same way that I can say about other potentially great 21st Century operas such as Ades's The Tempest or Birtwhistle's The Minotaur. Indeed, if Gerald Finley were reviving his role in Saariaho's  L'amour de loin, I would be looking forward to that more than Dr. A. (Hey, we've got Gerry in Peter Grimes and Die Tote Stadt (ROH) as well as Doctor Atomic, I shouldn't be so greedy).

I certainly respect Dr Atomic and I am looking forward to seeing it live, and not just for the world's best baritone. I find it thought-provoking and something that might be spiritual. I found it interesting that the inherently conservative ossified New York-centric opera lists have more or less rejected it as worthless - Dr SubAtomic, a NY friend of mine called it - much more so than the San Franciscans. But what has interested me has been the wealth of blogposts from blogs I have never encountered before, people writing thoughtfully about something they found exciting - and okay, some found that it bombed. Perhaps an opera about nuclear physics is likely to attract a more geeky crowd than another bland Zefferelli meaningless interpretation of a 19th century opera that actually has a lot more to say than you'd ever guess from a MetTrash production.

I have gathered the reviews I found useful in magnolia, tag Dr-Atomic

And, of course, check out geraldfinley.info

There are several musical highlights in Dr Atomic, sadly they are separated by too many longeurs. But I would happily sit through all the longeurs and don't care how good the other highlights are, because, even if Dr Atomic falls out of the repertoire, this is definitely the best aria of the 21st century so far and surely one of the great baritone arias - hey, one of the great arias - of all time. It would be interesting to hear someone else sing it, but I doubt that anybody could match the power of this - from the Amsterdam DVD - currently playing on loop at Gert Cottage

Gerald Finley sings Batter My Heart from John Adams's Dr Atomic

Beethoven 1 and 9 again

I probably am quite mad going to the same concert two nights running. But it is an interesting experiment in a number of different factors.

The most obvious was that Saturday night was my first time hearing Beethoven's First, on Sunday I was coming at it like an old familiar

. I heard it quite differently on either night, and have to ponder whether it was because of this factor or because of the acoustical differences between Row G of the stalls and Row A of the balcony. They were really quite different. In the stalls I felt quite surrounded by this wall of sound, almost part of the experience; in the circle I was better able to distinguish the subtleties and differences in instrumental tone. Not that I have the vocabulary to describe them, just take my word for them. I had read of the Haydnesque influence  but had been unable to discern this on the Saturday, whereas they were very clear on the Sunday. Nevertheless I feel I would far rather listen to the cited Haydn 'London' Symphonies than Beethoven 1.

I had booked primarily for Beethoven's Ninth, and again it was interesting to hear the differences. I would say that the Saturday performance was better than the Sunday, but was it really? Or was it because it was ace to be part of that tremendous wall-of-sound, especially in the Choral Part of the Fourth movement (which I often think of the Fifth movement, because it's Track 5 on the CD and there is often actually quite a pause in live performances).

Or was it because of subjective factors. I was extremely excited on Saturday, whereas on Sunday I detected a hint of blase in my attitude, or perhaps a caution at not raising my hopes too high after the mindblowing experience the previous night.

Or perhaps there are indiscernible subjective factors. I think I felt pretty much the same physically on either occasion.

I felt that the first movement was a bit lacklustre in comparison to Saturday when it had taken me all of about twelve bars to think "Right, forget the rest, might as well start the standing ovation now..." I noticed a few hesitations or tremors in the strings in the second and third movements, but, let me stress, I only noticed because a) I am so familiar with the work and b) had heard it live in the same hall the previous evening.

I was more convinced than ever that the placing of the soloists was wrong. On Saturday I suspected I was overly influenced by the fact that I was in no position to ogle Gerald Finley as much as I would like to. But on Sunday I was absolutely certain that it was a gross error to place them behind the orchestra and yet on the same level, and in front of a seriously fuck-off bass drum and some massive cymbals.  No doubt there was a logic; the conductor was the really wonderful* Bernard Haitink, and he must know what he's doing by now. But there were times when I struggled to hear the soloists, especially John McMaster, over the orchestra.

As on Saturday night, the stand out soloist was Gerald. What can I say? I do so like his voice and I have yet to hear a less than splendid performance from him. Indeed, I have yet to hear a performance that doesn't make me sit up and think 'Wow!'. A committed and muscular yet lyric approach. And a certain something that I can't put into words, something that hits me in the heart.

Ninth is such a fabulous piece of music, sobering to think that Beethoven never heard it. I do not see much point in attempting to do any sort of analysis of it. It is difficult to think of any other mere symphony that has such an ability to affect so many different emotions. At some points I was wanting to dance along, indeed I was sort of, in my seat, in a very static way. And suddenly, it struck me in the finale...I always think of this as being triumph, outpouring of the emotion of a victory. This time I heard pure joy "Freude" rising from the music.

There were mikes present in the auditorium, so I presume it was being recorded for and will be released on the LSO live label. Pre-order me a copy, please!

Oh, and there were some photos, even if none backstage...

The first two show the soloists (from left to right): Twyla Robinson, Karen Cargill, John McMaster and Gerald Finley, with members of the London Symphony Orchestra and London Symphony Chorus; and the final one shows Bernard Haitink taking the enthusiastic applause.

Update Cunning Little Vixen was also in the audience

* and yes, famous

Sossled at the Barbican

Later today I shall post some reflections on the unusual experience of attending two different performances of the same concert on consecutive evenings and sitting in very different parts of the hall, but first a little bit of SOSSLED silliness.

Last night was an official SOSSLED night out. Objective: baritone stalking.

Long before the concert begun was the important task of eating, and planning the final installments of Jane's Wuthering Prejudice

I was trying to explain to our esteemed author how a seduction scene might occur, based purely on my close observance of DVDs. Showing is always better than telling, until one realises that a few little old ladies are getting the vapours at what they believe to be a Public Display of Sapphic Lechery in the Barbican Foyer, which, let's be honest, is not the most conducive of places for seduction, sapphic or otherwise, even if only in the service of literature.

Realisation that we had offended public decency set us rather into giggly mode, and on emergence from the Ladies we spotted the Fairy Godfather of SOSSLED in a telephone booth with his back to us. We stood on the landing waiting for him, and a friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, said to me in a rather loud voice "I dare you to pinch his arse..." causing us both to collapse into girlie giggles, followed almost immediately by horrified girly giggles in the realisation that at that precise nano second, my very favouritest baritone had walked past us, just a few feet away and surely well within earshot.

The concert came and went, and, as I say there will be a serious commentary written here before bedtime, because, ultimately, it would be very sad indeed to be a stalker of baritones and tenors, and, indeed, other voice types if one could not appreciate on an emotional, visceral and intellectual level the music they deliver*

Afterwards, via the waving of our Fairy Godfather's Magic Wand, we were able to go backstage, rather than stand at the Groupie's Entrance. We waited for Gerald Finley outside his dressing room. We were very conscious that his wife and sons were present, and, anyway, I am firmly of the belief that waiting for singers (and other performers) after a performance is an imposition and that they have no obligation to be gracious and friendly; the fact that many choose to do so is a bonus. And Gerald was very gracious and very friendly.

But we learnt a lesson in the art of Singer Stalking. Preparation. Gerald and I posed for a photo, but Faye's camera batteries had gone flat. Very stupidly, my camera was in its case in my handbag and I knew that the settings were entirely wrong for taking close-up 'portrait' type photos, and I did not want to give the impression of being a time wasting klutz, so, no photos...

I think Gerald might have realised that I am a fan. Perhaps when I said that I was the previous evening's concert, too, and I knew the precise date of the Sea Symphony, to which I'm going, and the two performances of Figaro to which I'm going**, or when I teasingly asked him to stop releasing CDs. And I got a kiss on the cheek. If Louise and the boys had not been present I might subtly have requested more, but I'm well brought up and respectful. And Faye got a kiss, too. It was a very nice baritone-stalking conclusion to an enjoyable evening.

Some time ago, in reaction to Hairy McMungo's classification of singers by how Scottish they are, I threatened to retaliate with Lancashire/Cheshire singers. I think a Canadian married to a Lancastrian singer must surely count as an honorary Lancastrian...!

* SOSSLED's Mission Statement:

We are a group of respectable sensible women with considerable status in our respective professions. We just happen to like singers. We refer to stalking, but that stops outside the curtilage of opera house/concert hall. We are non-threatening, and don't have a criminal record between us, although one-of-us does have some Andrea Bocelli, which I suppose counts...

** I'm good at remembering dates, as it happens...

Beethoven's Ninth

Dominic in MusicOMH is quick off the mark with a review of last night's concert - Haitink's Beethoven: Symphony No 9 'Choral' - LSO @ Barbican Hall, London.

I cannot disagree with a word. It was stupendous.

I think it was the first time I have ever heard Beethoven's 1st. I have CDs of 2-8. After tonight I won't lose sleep if I never hear it again, although it's perfectly pleasant and enjoyable.

But the Ninth was something else. I wrote "I suspect a poll of the public would make Beethoven's Ninth the most popular Symphony of all" but then I checked the Classic FM Hall of Fame, and am surprised to find it's only the second most popular after Six (Pastoral). In fact, I would have predicted Beethoven 9, Beethoven 5, Mozart 41 and Dvorak 9, but the top ten symphonies are:

1. Beethoven 6
2. Beethoven 9
3. Rachmaninov 2
4. Saint-Saëns 3
5. Dvorak 9
6. Beethoven 5
7. Beethoven 7
8. Mahler 5
9. Tchaikovsky 6
10. Beethoven 3

The Rach and S-S are from out of left field as far as I'm concerned; what does surprise me, although on reflection shouldn't, is how much more popular are concertos than symphonies*.

Digression over, I can only echo MusicOMH's superlatives. I am particularly interested that Dominic mentions the timpani because on my way out, I exclaimed to Jimmy "The timpani were amazing!".

But let's be honest; the biggest single draw factor for Beethoven 9 is the singing. The massed ranks of the London Symphony chorus were stupendous. I think I have noticed something before with this particular choir. I don't know how it is achieved and certainly don't have the technical vocabulary to describe it. I don't like screechy sopranos. There is a fine line that when crossed makes sops sound screechy. The LSO Ladies push right up to this line but absolutely do not cross it; the result is a wonderful sound, possibly a high risk strategy. I was glorying in this amazing sound when I realised it was also being echoed in the violins. Again, I hate screechy strings

Throughout the first three movements I had wondered when the soloists would enter, and where they would sit. Obviously not at the front in the traditional soloist position, and being that I was in Row G, the final row before the auditorium starts to rise, I couldn't see over the orchestra to work out where they would be.

And suddenly this remarkable sound emerged from over on the far left behind the violins and I realised that the soloists had stood up, and, by dint of resting my head in my fiancé's lap, I was able to see as well as hear the wonderful Gerald Finley. And, just about, the other soloists: Twyla Robinson, Karen Cargill and John McMaster. They were well over on the far left behind the violins. I shall have a much better view from my seat in the Circle tonight.

I think of this, soloist-wise, as being predominantly a bass work, and if I say that my favourite baritone was singing the bass role, and he did not disappoint my high expectations, I trust that is sufficient!. And I have no criticisms of the other soloists. I was struck by how effectively they worked as an ensemble, at times the voices melting into one.

A truly memorable concert, and, shucks, I have to go through it all again tonight. It will be interesting to compare acoustically because from down in the stalls I felt enveloped by a tremendous wall of sound. At the end I just had to let out a scream and rise to my feet, and then, feeling a bit self-conscious I glanced around and about a third of the audience that I could see were also on their feet! I'm not being funny, but you know it's good when people are waxing enthusiastic in the loos and on the way out, rather than fretting about quotidian minutiae.

* I also think this list is a bit misleading: I think the rest of Dvorak's 9th is not nearly as well liked as the 'Hovis' movement, and it impossible to believe that the most highly ranked opera is Cavalleria Rusticana, feeling sure that must merely mean the Intermezzo, despite the listing - as opposed to the Pearlfishers' Duet which may surprise many Classic FM listeners to know that it is just one extract from a rarely performed (reportedly justifiably) opera. But then, what is the extract that lures people to vote for the Magic Flute above, for example, the Marriage of Figaro

What the papers say...

...about Le Nozze di Figaro

The Guardian

Compelling: Miah Persson as Susanna and Gerald Finley as Count Almaviva in Le Nozze di Figaro, ROH, London. Photograph: Tristram Kenton

Musically the evening is remarkable. Röschmann is exceptional in giving voice to the Countess's despair. Finley is the most dangerous of Counts, Persson a sensual, feisty Susanna. Schrott, meanwhile, handsome of presence and gorgeous of tone, is a star in the making. Antonio Pappano's conducting is full of wit and emotional depth. A flawed but compelling evening.

The Times

Gerald Finley’s terrific Count is like a cornered dinosaur who senses the impending Ice Age but can do nothing except seethe impotently. Yet how magnificently he does seethe! I have rarely seen a Count who radiates so much pent-up anger, frustration and, at one truly shocking moment, physical brutality.

The Observer

McVicar is blessed with a multi-talented cast who can mostly act as well as they can sing, primarily Uruguayan baritone Erwin Schrott's feisty Figaro.. Swedish soprano Miah Persson complements him beautifully, a Susanna as comely and sassy as pure of voice and sweet of tone, stilling an awed house with her sublime 'Deh, vieni'.

Gerald Finley's nobly sung Count is less physically imposing than usual, lending stronger emphasis to the dark, scheming side of his shameless nature, angry and self-righteous enough to administer a shocking slap across the face to his long-suffering wife, superbly sung by the stately, if sometimes statuesque Dorothea Roschmann... Israeli mezzo Rinat Shaham makes a charmingly gamine Cherubino, perkily popping up in all the wrong places at the wrong times. The supporting cast could scarcely be stronger; Philip Langridge, Jonathan Veira and Graciela Araya all make the most of their chances as Basilio, Bartolo and Marcellina.

Bloomberg

Erwin Schrott (Figaro) has a thrilling, resonant voice, and Miah Persson (Susanna) floats her final aria ``Deh vieni, non tardar'' with exquisite beauty. They're both also talented and lively actors...Gerald Finley is vocally and theatrically outstanding as Almaviva, and gives a fierce center to the character's pride and arrogance. Young mezzo Rinat Shaham makes a memorable debut as the hormonally charged pageboy Cherubino. Her drunken turn in Act Four is a delight, and her deliberately awkward performance of ``Voi che sapete'' is charming.

Dorothea Roschmann occasionally struggles with the difficult, long phrases of Countess Almaviva, yet Antonio Pappano's conducting is so fresh and plastic you can almost touch it.

Music OMH

Le nozze di Figaro (Photo: Bill Cooper)

The role of Count Almaviva was surely made for Gerald Finley. His rendition of the Act 3 aria brought the house down, strongly projected and delivered with an aristocratic authority. His long-suffering wife was sung by Dorothea Röschmann. Everything she sang was deeply felt, but for me the easy legato that is so essential in this music was lacking in her upper register; these factors made Dove sono moving but slightly unconvincing.

Erwin Schrott was a superb Figaro, a real lyric baritone with a feel for the humour and the heart of this character. ROH debutant Miah Persson stunned as Susanna, producing spine-tingling half-tones in Deh vieni, non tardar. She carried off her character's stage-managing the events of the whole opera, and had a beautiful, if small voice, and a nice ringing tone.

Rinat Shaham took a while to warm up as Cherubino, but was cheeky and charming; Graciela Araya a witty Marcellina; and Philip Langridge was luxury casting as Don Basilio. Barbarina was the lovely Young Artist, Ana James, making a strong impression at the start of Act 4.

The Telegraph

The cast is strong: Erwin Schrott is a handsome dog of a Figaro, less of an oaf than usual and firmly sung. His Susanna is the pitch-perfect Miah Persson, radiating determination and competence until a dreamily beautiful "Deh vieni non tardar" shows another side of her personality.

As the Countess, that fine musician Dorothea Röschmann starts awkwardly with a nervous "Porgi amor", but hits vocal form in the evening's second half with a richly eloquent "Dove sono". Rinat Shaham is an ebullient Cherubino, and Jonathan Veira (Bartolo), Graciela Araya (Marcellina) and Philip Langridge (Basilio) make a splendidly Dickensian trio of conspirators.

The finest element of the evening, however, is Gerald Finley's dashingly self-absorbed Count, sung with a technical focus, sensitive musicality and crisp enunciation that disarms criticism. What a great operatic artist he has become.

The Independent

Dorothea Roschmann's extraordinarily intense account of "Dove sono" was genuinely a moment of self-revelation. The deployment of aching embellishments in the da capo was for once neither cosmetic, nor musicological, but entirely dramatic. Earlier in the same scene we witnessed the Count - the superb Gerald Finley on blistering form...

...At the centre of things Erwin Schrott's charismatic Figaro is as cocky, confident and showy with his big notes as you could wish...

Miah Persson's deliciously pretty Susanna certainly provided that. Her final-act romance, ravishingly sung, truly revealed the tender-hearted young woman beneath the feisty exterior... As for the randy Cherubino, Rinat Shaham  has him panting at the bit from her breathless "Non so piu" onwards. Again, a wonderfully complete performance. You can almost hear the hormones raging.

New York Times

Bill Cooper
Figaro (Erwin Schrott) with his Susanna (Miah Persson) in David McVicar's "Marriage of Figaro" in London.

Playbill Arts

Gerald Finley as Count Almaviva and Miah Persson as Susanna

Bill Cooper

Le Nozze di Figaro

Which I went to see at the Royal Opera House yesterday afternoon - the corporate page is here, with details of cast, future performances and so on. It will be broadcast on BBC2 on 25th February.

It is my favourite opera of all, and has only gone up in my estimation as a result of this performance. Although it and the play it was based on were written in the 1780s, it was updated to the 1820s, and I know that because it said so in the newspapers. I didn't read the programme notes beforehand (except for looking at the pictures) and as I'm not an expert in the subtle differences in interior and clothing design, I would not have known, nor cared. And I don't think it made one iota of difference.

Overall, I thought that the orchestral playing, the singing, the character depiction, the sets and the production were separately and together, first rate. My main criticism would be the interpolation of Bach's Toccata and a loud "hello" into the beginning of Voi che sapete. People who not only let their mobiles ring, but answer them "I'm in the opera" should be forcibly ejected from the auditorium and barred for a year. A second offence would involve stocks and pillories. When practically the entire amphitheatre is saying "shush", there is, in my view,an argument for restarting the intro to the aria.

One of my reasons for liking it is that however many times I see or hear it, I find something new in the story or music or both. However good the principals were, and they were, one of the best touches was the servants listening in at the door to all the intrigues.

Many parts of it were very funny, especially the almost farcical quality of the two scenes where Cherubino is hiding first in Susanna's bedroom, and then in the Countess's bedroom. And the Final Act, in the garden, when it seems that half the cast are running around trying to hide from each other. There were excellent bits all the way through; of course, the director must get a large part of credit for this, but there would be little point in planning clever moves without intelligent acting-singers to act them out.

The cast was of a very high standard. As soon as the ROH announced the new season last Spring, and I saw Nozze di Figaro, my heart beat a little faster, and when I saw "Gerald Finley" as the Count it beat even faster (and I've become an even bigger fan of his since last Spring!). I hadn't heard any of the rest of the principals, and, in some cases, hadn't even heard of them. And then when smaller parts are taken by the likes of Philip Langridge, who is, presumably winding down his career in style, you know that's luxury casting...!

I thought Gerald Finley was marvellous; everytime I see him I like him even more. He has a gorgeous voice, and a wonderful stage presence. He played the Count as one could imagine Timothy West playing him, and was very funny. Quite frighteningly physical at times.

Miah Persson was outstanding as Susanna and she with the lovely Erwin Schrott as Figaro had me convinced that they were a couple in love, which doesn't always come across in every production. I had read that Erwin took the recitative secco as spoken narrative, and, I have to say, reading about it, I was not sure. And indeed, in the first excerpt, I was still not sure. But then I began to realise, it really worked. And Erwin is most definitely a voice I would like to hear again, with an excellent stage presence (the internet says he's due to play Don Giovanni at Covent Garden in the future).

I thought Dorothea Röschmann was good as the Countess, although I will say that I am not a great soprano fan and there were some parts of her voice, especially up at the top that were not especially to my liking. I think Rinat Shaham was a fine Cherubino.

I'm trying to work out which was my favourite bit musically. There are so many great arias, duets, and ensemble pieces, it's impossible to single one out. And then, when you think you've had just too much in the way of beautiful singing, there comes these amazingly gorgeous strains from the orchestra.

Perhaps I will go along with Rob's comment to Anna, about the last couple of minutes, as the Count seeks the Countess's pardon, and the story ends happily*, with all singing and the house lights rising to include the audience in the general happiness.

One man on the end of myrow rose to leave as that final bit began. I cannot for the life of me begin to understand why anybody would do that. Yes, he was infirm and walking with a stick, but I could never contemplate leaving just before the grand final. Sure, leave as soon as the final note sounds. Jimmy commented "Remind me never to get old" (I said if he was serious, it could be arranged...)

Overall an excellent performance of a beautiful opera. It's my first opera of the year but I'm already thinking that it will be a contender for my Top 10 of 2006. If it doesn't make the final cut, it will be because 2006 will have turned out to be an amazingly good year...!

Oh, and it's on BBC2 on 25 February.

* although in Part 3 of the trilogy, the Countess ends up having a child outside of wedlock with Cherubino.

Le Nozze di Figaro

A really fabulous afternoon at Covent Garden.  Couldn't fault it. Well, I could nitpick, but that would be nitpicking.

Really amazingly fabulous music. Excellent cast. Very very good production.

And should I  mention the kisses I got at the Stage Door?

Shameless, me. Shameless. And, a year ago, I would have said I don't do baritones...

Just as Jimmy and I were walking past the Stage Door, he said he would go to the pub if I wanted to hang around in the  lobby to Backstage. Just as I got there, Erwin Schrott was leaving, so nervously I approached him, and explained that I  knew Giorgia in Italy who had asked me to give him a hug on her behalf. He seemed excited and pleased that I was a friend of Giorgia's, mentioning he had got a text from her this morning,  so I explained that she blogs, and I blog. So we had a hug and he kissed me on both cheeks. I said that Figaro is my favourite opera, so my expectations were high, and they were met, I really enjoyed it. So he hugged me again, and I got another kiss on each cheek. I don't do autograph-collecting, besides Jimmy had taken my programme off to the pub, and because I had inadequate preparation, I didn't even get a photo.

He departed, and I hung around for a while chatting with the dozen or so autograph seekers. I was wondering how much longer I should wait around, or whether I should join Jimmy in the pub, when Gerald Finley emerged (be still my beating heart...!). I waited while various people got his autograph, then I took a photo, and then I said,

"Erwin's given me a kiss for a mutual friend, so I was wondering if I could have one from you for me." There was laughter around me and someone said "I'll have to remember that tactic...". Gerald obliged. Oh my! I shall say no more on the matter on the internet, but I shan't forget that in a hurry...

I will do a more considered, and less girly-groupie, review tomorrow...

Marriage of Figaro Reviews

David McVicar Plays Safe in `Marriage of Figaro' at Royal Opera via Cherubino's husband

The Guardian - Four stars "A flawed but compelling evening"

The Times Four stars  "Few of the trillion Mozart celebrations this year will match David McVicar’s new Royal Opera staging of Figaro for insight or passion. It isn’t a perfect show."

I'm not actually reading the reviews until after I go on Saturday...

Gerald Finley

Gosh!

Just as I was poised to leave the house, coat on, keys in hand, there was a knock  at the door. Postman, delivering to me from Amazon.  Bit of a surprise because I had opted for Super Saver Delivery, and the order had only dispatched  Monday.  In the order was A Song - For Anything: songs by Charles Ives, with Gerald Finley baritone and Julius Drake piano.   But my copy doesn't look that any more...!

Naturally, I took it to work, and played it in my PC, through my headphones. At the end of the thirty first song I had a big smile on my face. Well, actually, that smiled developed a lot earlier. I was a bit nervous because I really don't know anything about Charles Ives. That having been said, I wouldn't mind hearing Gerald Finley sing the telephone directory. But this was much better than the telephone directory. I think I liked just about every song on first hearing. What a fabulous record - here's the Hyperion page - We ♥ Hyperion. But I have already decided that my favourite is Memories: (A) Very Pleasant.

We're sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house;
We're waiting for the curtain to arise with wonders for our eyes;
We're feeling pretty gay, and well we may, "O, Jimmy, look!" I say,
"The band is tuning up and soon will start to play."
We whistle and we hum, beat time with the drum.
We're sitting in the opera house, the opera house, the opera house,
awaiting for the curtain to rise with wonders for our eyes,
a feeling of expectancy, a certain kind of ecstasy,
expectancy and ecstasy, expectancy and ecstasy
SSHHHHHHssssss. Curtain!

And then this evening, I went to see him live at the Wigmore Hall, accompanied by Julius Drake. I was so excited. I will confess that I hadn't even heard of Gerald Finley until early this year when I went to La  Traviata. He was Germont pere and his voice just seduced me. I also heard him in Britten's War Requiem and I was equally impressed. I absolutely adored him in Eugene Onegin, so I just had to book this evening, and Figaro in February, and Beethoven's Ninth in April. Just wonderful.

But because I was so excited I also had an attack of audience nerves. High expectations - would they be met? Beforehand and during the interval, I met up with Simon - our diaries often coincide. I did try to persuade him to come to the Green Room, but he declined on the basis he hadn't bought a CD. What I should have said was "You owe it to UK blogging to take control of my camera..."

The first half of the programme was Schumann's Dichterliebe. I thought I knew this better than I did. I thought I had it in my collection, but I was not as familiar with it as I thought. Never mind, I knew it quite well when I was young, and things learned young often stay with one.

It is gorgeous music, set to poetry by Heine.  It's really a duet between baritone and pianist, and very Schumannesque, I reckon, anyway, having studied obsessed over Schumann for O-Level. And it was wonderfully performed. Julius Drake is a superb pianist/accompanist and Gerald Finley...well, he lived up to my expectations! Quite a formal recital, and yet, managing to convey the dramatic meaning of the words in his facial and body language, as well as in his voice.

The second half opened with Samuel Barber 's Hermit Songs Op. 29 (yes that same Samuel Barber who wrote Adagio for Strings and bombing Vietnam) and, I have to say, musically they were the least to my liking. These two have recorded a Songs of Samuel Barber on Hyperion. I don't think it's been released yet. I'm not sure whether or not I will buy it, but if I do it won't especially be for the Barber music. I don't want to overstate my reaction. It was okay-ish music performed beautifully. If you get me.

But the highlight of the evening was, for me, a brand new Charles Ives fan, the Charles Ives songs. Programmed were: The Side Show; Memories: a. Very Pleasant b. Rather Sad; Tom Sails Away; Swimmers; A Song – For Anything; and in addition, as encores, we got Charlie Rutlage; 1,2,3 and,  er, one of the German ones (hey, I only became an Ives fan today, I'm not an expert!). What really struck me was the diverse styles in these songs, all very tuneful and song-like. I would really recommend this CD to a much wider audience than just fans of art song and 'classical music' . I know it is Art Song, but really, it's song, bloody good songs. Read those reviews, including on the Amazon (US) site

Overall, it was an immensely enjoyable evening that exceeded my expectations and absorbed my attention. I just love Gerald Finley's voice,  maybe I'll just quote the Metro "Baritone Gerald Finley combines a glorious sound with great dramatic instinct" He comes over really well on stage, too The Wigmore Hall (to which I had never ventured before tonight) is a small and intimate venue but it's as important to grab the audience in such a place as it is an opera house, perhaps even more so. He doesn't come over as forceful, but he certainly takes the audience with him. I'm even more of a fan now! And I was well impressed by Julius Drake on the piano.

At the start of the second half the announcer mentioned that the CD was on sale in the foyer and if we wished the artists to sign it, we could go behind to the Green Room. Keep me away! So I got to meet him. I'm always slightly apprehensive at meeting people I admire, because sometimes you rather you hadn't.  I was very glad I did, he seems a very nice person. Open and welcoming. He signed my CD booklet, explaining that Hyperion deliberately make the bottom of the picture dark, for signing, so I said something really stupid like "Hey that's really cool." I mentioned that I was looking forward to Figaro, so he said come and say 'Hi'. I think my face said "Oh my goodness, I couldn't do that...!" so he added "if you get a chance..." I was actually thinking that February is not a good time for hanging around Stage Doors (not me I'm thinking of, it's not fair on the singers, who have to look after their voices far more than I have to look after my abacus).  I am looking forward to Figaro even more now, and I came away with a real feeling of thrill. Oh, Louise was there as well.

I took some photos. They're okay, not great,  and I will publish a selection, but not tonight.

Update: An excellent review in The Times, who along with The Guardian award five stars *****

Eugene Onegin

Starring Gerald Finley

Written by Tchaikovsky, libretto adapted from Pushkin's poem, translated into English

At English National Opera.

A wonderful night out.

The papers had said, Go to see this for Gerald Finley, which is the main reason I booked the ticket. But, good as he is, he was not the only reason to enjoy it. Most of the rest of the cast was serviceablly competent but generic. I did not take to the tenor playing Lensky - Gwyn Hughes Jones, although I will say he did a creditable rendition of Lensky's Aria. Catrin Wyn-Davies (Tatyana)was particularly impressive and melodramatic in her 'mad scene'.

The production was sumptious, especially in the 'crowd scenes' - there were three in total. The dancers were as worth seeing as the singers. The duel scene was very moving. It's not an opera I know very well* but I thoroughly enjoyed the music. And The Royal Opera are putting it on next season with Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Rolando Villazon and Amanda Roocroft.

Gerald Finley will be on the radio on Tuesday. A bit of googling finds a recent interview with him, brief biography, profile and I'm not the only blogger who's a fan...

Next season he's appearing as the Count in Le Nozze di Figaro at Covent Garden and I've already booked for him in Beethoven's Ninth next April. A couple of lunchtime concerts at Wigmore Hall, with only limited tickets available.

* ie not at all, really

Critics round-up

The Guardian on Rigoletto , which I shall be going to see twice in July, although with the so-called 'B' cast - a B cast that includes Dmitri Hvorostovsky and Rolando Villazón... It's a revival of the production that the ROH released on DVD. Also in the The Times.

Eugene Onegin at ENO:

The main reason you need to see English National Opera's revival of Eugene Onegin is Gerald Finley's startling performance in the title role.

And, guess what, that was the main reason I booked a ticket for next week.

Britten's War Requiem

As soon as I saw this in the programme for the Royal Festival Hall, I knew I had to book it. I glanced at the date and thought, "Oh, that's VE Day." Two hours later, the penny dropped...

A good line up - the London Philharmonic Orchestra with Kurt Masur; Christine Brewer (soprano), Anthony Dean Griffey (tenor) and Gerald Finley (baritone), and the London Philharmonic Choir and Tiffin Boys' Choir.

It's wonderful music. "It grows on you," said my mother sniffily. Well, yes, but much great music is not instantly accessible: if it was it would be shallow and disposable. As the programme notes state

the fusion of the words of the Latin Mass for the Dead with the poetry of the First World War poet Wilfred Owen is in itself an achievement of genius

It's a great piece of work.

But the performance failed to move me. Perhaps it was me, who knows. I heard it last year at the Albert Hall and it was definitely one of my performance highlights of the year. I suspect I shall forget tonight's very quickly.

No doubt the Boys Choir sang beautifully, but they were positioned in the Balcony, whereas I was in the Stalls with the Balcony overhanging my head so they were faint and distant. I mostly found the chorus to be insipid, the Ladies in particular. Okay, I wasn't expecting masses of passion, but they left me indifferent. The orchestra was fine, but there was a never a time that I felt deeply moved by their playing. The percussion is interesting to watch in this. If I recall correctly, there were six percussionists and two timpanists. It was slightly strange when the 'chamber orchestra' was playing, the timpanist also played tam tam. I know it's supposed to be a chamber orchestra, but I thought it strange that she executed a few notes on the timps, then put her right timp stick into her left hand to take the tam tam beater in her right and beat the tam tam, over and again, when there were seven perfectly competent percussionists sitting there counting.

I didn't think the organ was anything special. Admittedly, the RFH organ is hardly the RAH, but it's not a bad organ. I've heard it a few times and liked it, but I'm struggling to remember whether I actually heard it. I certainly didn't feel it, as I did at the Albert Hall.

It seemed strange, as well, to me that the chamber orchestra had a different conductor, Neville Creed, Artistic Director of the London Philharmonic Choir. but other than being strange, it wasn't an issue.

The position of the soloists was bizarre, with Christine Brewer already ensconced next to the organist before the concert began, and Anthony Dean Griffey and Gerald Finley walking on with the conductor. to go and sit behind the chamber orchestra, in front of the percussion. It made the bows at the applause a bit strange.

As for the soloists. People rave about Christine Brewer. I must be missing something. I found her shrill and rather unpleasant at the higher end of the range, although towards the lower register she has a rich and sonorous timbre. Anthony Dean Griffey I wouldn't go out of my way to hear again, although I wouldn't especially avoid him. I found his voice bland, without any colouring or nuance, and some of his pronunciations were downright odd.

So it was with some relief that Gerald Finley proved to be the highlight of the evening. I very much liked his voice when I heard him in Traviata, and if someone gets back to me, I shall be booking ticket(s) to see him in Eugene Onegin at ENO. I think his voice is noble, mellifluous, rich and with a good range of colours.

At the end I took some photos. Each time my flash went off a man in front of me turned and gave me a Look. I ignored him. I have a very wide peripheral vision (it partly compensates for my lack of spacial awareness), so he probably doesn't even know that I saw him glaring. Of course, the programme says "Photography is strictly prohibited in the auditorium" but every venue I go to (except the Coliseum for some reason...) has camera flashes as an integral part of applause. And none of them appears to mind in the slightest. Woe betide if you use flash during a performance - it's off-putting to other audience members and most of all, tot he performers. I read some venue somewhere or other which said "Flash photography is permitted only during applause" or similar wording.

I was a bit disappointed that the man in front didn't say anything to me, because I had two - not one, but two - answers at the ready "You need to get out more, dear..." or "Oh, I have all the stars on this  Compact Flashcard...Steve Reich, Barbara Bonney, Angelika Kirchschlager, Jonas Kauffman, Teddy Tahu Rhodes, Thomas Quasthoff, Daniel Barenboim, Plácido Domingo...jealous, are we?"

All the photos I got of Christine Brewer are with her turned away from the audience. I got a few of the male soloists; in all of them, Gerald Finley is pulling dorky faces...!

Anthony Dean Griffey and Gerald Finley

Gerald Finley and Anthony Dean Griffey

La Traviata

Ooh, a bit of classic, popular, populist Verdi. Can't beat it!

I was so looking forward to going to this on Saturday. Indeed, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the whole day, actually, including a delightful meal in China Town, sitting outside in the Plaza sipping latte. And the very great quantity of good wine I drunk in the restaurant, the Royal Opera House and the Marquis of Anglesey.

It was a good thing I know this opera so well, otherwise I might have been quite perplexed by the story - which, actually, isn't particularly convoluted. The sets were gorgeous, andi was perfectly satisfied with the orchestral playing, under Maurizio Benini.

 

It was basically a revival of the classic 1994 version available on DVD (and often on the Performance Channel)

This is what I wrote on rmo

It has to be said that we took the words of the great Act 1 chorus rather too literally, before, during and after so my memory is rather hazy. And not just of the opera - I have no recollection of getting from my seat to the cloakroom at the end, but can only assume it was more elegantly than the way I descended from seat to the floor of the amphitheatre at the start of Interval 2...

In consequence any review I attempt to write will fail to reach even my usual devastatingly low level of insight. However, I do very vividly remember the entrance of Germont père,  when I sat up alert and exclaimed (in my head, I think...) 'that's a voice to die for' the voice being that of Gerald Finley. Fortunately, I already have a ticket for him in Britten's War Requiem in at the RFH in May.

My partner was very taken with the soprano, Norah Amsellem, despite my insistence that she was no Angela Gheorghiu.

Charles Castronovo was Alfredo. I saw him in Cosi a few months ago. He has a pleasant, sweet voice, and I would be entirely content to hear him again, although I wouldn't rate him as the next big thing or whatever.

And someone else replied

I was very taken with her tonight, too! WOW!  No Angela Gheorghiu? Maybe not but she doesn't need to be anybody but herself!

The Guardian broadly agrees with me, despite its scathing opening

The box office doesn't lie, but it's hard to fathom why La Traviata is still so popular. It has become the classic operatic weepy, despite there being more abundant good tunes and more moving drama elsewhere in Verdi's output.

It includes a picture.

The FT is fulsome

In all other set-pieces she had the theatre spellbound. "Dite alla giovine" and "Addio, del passato" were especially effective: Amsellem sang them in a beautifully controlled half-voice, stretching the tempo to its very limit...This is a superb revival. After 11 years Bob Crowley's spectacular settings still draw applause, but what counts is the care that has gone into casting and ensemble. Each of the smaller roles is made to tell, especially Gillian Knight's Annina. Charles Castronovo is the shyly appealing Alfredo, Gerald Finley an unusually sympathetic Germont. Renato Balsadonna's chorus just gets better and better. The linchpin is the conductor, Maurizio Benini. The orchestra sounds fired-up, Verdi's instrumentation is revealed in all its glory and the performance speaks with a common tongue. La traviata deserves no less.

The Times carries a mixed review, grudging in its praise.

Update The DVD referred to in the comments box below is