Gertsamtkunstwerk

Tito Beltran to face trial

About three years ago I went to La Bohème at Covent Garden and was singularly underwhelmed by the tenor singing Rodolfo, Tito Beltran. I said

eminently forgettable. A whiny nasally voice, without the top notes required, and with, at times, a very vague approximation to pitch.

Last summer I discovered a restaurant where the management seem to have a Beltran fixation, which I thought a bit unfortunate considering that based upon my one hearing at Covent Garden and on some CD they play, he is struggling to be mediocre.

I always hesitate to comment on the substance of criminal trials, and, IMO, it is a particularly complex area where men in the public eye are accused of rape (which is why I have said absolutely nothing about the Manchester United reserve player facing similar charges, torn as I am between utter condemnation of arrogant young men who think they can get what they want and a realisation that there are mercenary women determined to get their fifteen minutes of fame irrespective of how). But nevertheless,

Opera star Beltran denies rape charges

Tito Beltran, 42, is accused of raping the woman at a hotel in Nötesjö in Skåne following a performance at a concert in the area. A number of other well-known Swedish performers were staying at the hotel, and have been interviewed in the police investigation.

and

Opera star rape suspect slams Sweden

Believing himself to be the victim of ethnic discrimination, the popular tenor has vowed to burn his Swedish passport after the trial.

"Swedes are as racist as they come," Beltran told Chilean newspaper Las Últimas Noticias. "This country doesn't tolerate 'blackheads' [svartskallar], of which I am one," he added.
In a separate matter, Beltran was cleared last year of charges of sexually abusing a girl, who is now aged 13, between 2000 and 2002. The prosecutor has appealed Beltran's acquittal to Gothenburg District Court.

Two thoughts: it must be considered very unfortunate to be falsely accused of rape in two entirely unconnected incidents (I can only assume the alleged victim of the first alleged incident only went to the police after reading reports about the second, which I think is fairly common practice).

also: it seems a bit convenient to hit out at the racism of a country after having lived there for twenty years and having chosen to take on its citizenship (although in fairness he left Chile because of Pinochet, as did many hundreds of thousands of lucky ones who could). In any case, burning a passport looks just like a divo fit, a gesture. . No international entertainer in their right mind would relinquish EU citizenship in order to face additional bureaucracy and hassles in respect of work permits etc. And I imagine he would know as well as anyone whether it would be preferable to pass a long prison sentence in Sweden or Chile. Without any knowledge of either country, nor any desire nor need to find out about prison conditions, I would opt for Sweden.

His website is several years out of date

UpdateThe Valparaiso Times reports

This is not the first time that Beltrán - who has lived in Sweden the past 21 years - has been accused of sexually assaulting minors. Rumors have circulated in the press for years about the singer having sex with young girls. In 2002 Beltrán spoke out against the rumors in the Swedish tabloid Aftonbladet, saying it is “degrading to be called a pedophile” and insisting that “after I turned 30 I have not had sex with girls who were under 20 years of age. And it anybody claims otherwise, they need to prove it!”

Gerald Finley in Recital at Wigmore Hall

This is where I was on Thursday evening, a recital I had looked forward to since I had booked one of the last remaining tickets back in July. A recital with piano; pianist was Julius Drake

When I sat down and looked at the programme I realised that the whole of the first half was going to be of Russian songs. It crossed my mind that it was the second week running that I would be hearing an extended Russian Programme from a world-class baritone, but didn't think any more of it.

I did come to the conclusion that an hour of mainly unfamiliar Russian songs is really quite hard work for me as an audience member. Don't misunderstand me, I adore Gerald, I love his voice, and as far as I could tell, he performed them excellently. I followed the text with my eyes while I listened to the music and I was surprised at how many words I recognised. I thought at this rate I'll end up learning Russian by osmosis like I am learning German. Not sure which is more useless - Wagnerian German or Tchaikovskian Russian. And I certainly felt that he was expressing musically and vocally what the words were saying.

I came to the conclusion that whilst I enjoy piano recitals, I prefer soloists singing with orchestra. I do like the piano as an instrument to listen to - I don't suppose there's anybody with half a musical brain who actively dislikes the piano as an instrument - and with as excellent a pianist as Julius Drake, there is no lack of variety and colour in the piano accompaniment. But, still, a piano lacks the variety of an orchestra. Also, when a singer performs solo (or with another singer) in a concert, the programme is infused with variety when the singer(s) takes a breather and the orchestra is allowed to shine. That breather is something I don't think I have ever encountered at a recital with piano. Of course, I appreciate that most of the songs on the programme were specifically written with piano accompaniment, so my observations are without substance.

I did enjoy the Tchaikovsky songs, but the Musorgsky got to be a bit much for me.

I much more enjoyed the second half. Particularly the Ives songs, from the CD that I acquired the day - nearly two years ago - I heard Gerald sing them at this same venue. I was excited to read that in due course there will be another CD of Ives songs.

I was not sure what to think of the Rorem songs before I heard them. To be honest Ned Rorem, as a composer, is barely even a name to me, and I was cautious of what a set of songs set to prose excerpts from Walt Whitman diaries, with music written in the 1960s, would actually sound like. I can confirm that I really like them. If 'like' is the right word. They were very gruesome - Whitman's graphic accounts, as a war diarist of carnage and slaughter in the American Civil War. Rorem, a Quaker and pacifist, selected them to set to music in 1969, at the Vietnam War. I found these songs to be a very powerful anti-war message. I don't suppose any singer accidentally chooses such songs for a public recital that is being recorded onto CD for the Wigmore Live label. I believe Gerald to be a highly intelligent man and I feel sure that therefore the powerful anti-war message must have been a specific choice.

I was not so taken with the Barber songs but they wouldn't stop me buying the CD. Some of them were based on texts by James Joyce.

The encores were fun, including Memories: (A) Very Pleasant (B) Rather Sad, which is one of my favourites on the CD, and also a show stopping finale of The Green Eyed Dragon.

I thought it was a thoroughly excellent recital. Gerald is just fabulous. I love his voice, it is distinctive and special. He is so musical, such an intelligent interpreter. He is an instinctive and thoughtful actor. Vocal acting, facially, a little bit of play acting when called for. It takes something to be able to sing songs about the slaughter of war and a dragon with thirteen tails in the same programme and portray each with appropriate meaning, and not make the juxtaposition seem incongruous. I can't wait until the next time I see him, which will be in March in Eugene Onegin.

For those of you not otherwise occupied a week on Sunday, I would suggest you go to the Royal College of Music's 125th Birthday. As well as Gerald, the line up includes Sarah Connolly, Liz Watts, Janis Kelly, Andrew Kennedy, Anna Leese, Catherine Wyn-Rogers, Anna Grevelius, Alfie Boe, Andrew Staples, Graeme Broadbent, and James Rutherford.

No photos, unfortunately. I had my camera in my bag and I put my bag on the floor; as it happened there was an empty seat next to me. On the other side of that seat was an extremely ill-mannered woman called Belinda who immediately put her jacket on top of my bag. I told Jimmy later, he said that's what people do when they want to nick your bag. I doubted that was so in this case (I know a bit more about who she is than I am prepared to write here) but she was she one of these ghastly prematurely-aged hags from Surrey or somesuch place who think that everybody else exists for her convenience. And I just wanted to get out my camera. Actually, no one else was taking photos except the official one, so I would have stuck out like a sore thumb.

Last week in Puerto Rico

Some photos...

Anna Netrebko sings the famous aria 'Puppet on a String'

Having confessed in an interview that she would be in love with Plácido if he was younger, Anna realises that it's only the x-ray of the voice in the attic that is getting older

Dalilah Netrebko realises that getting Sansom Schrott to cut his hair means he can barely lift an empty water bottle. And there's a better tenor on stage. And she's no mezzo

Erwin explains how he came to have his locks shorn - Just Like That. Anna never wants to hear one of his bad jokes again

Okay, I can't do comedy captions. You have a try. More photos on Yahoo.

More coverage of the concert:

¡Noche de inmortales!

Una noche apasionada bajo la dirección de Plácido Domingo

Interview: Erwin Schrott abrazado al realismo en la época

My blogging my Ring countdown is failing dismally, but trust me, I have been far too busy flying my winged horse through the night sky. Three days to go...I may appear calm, but inside I'm fluttering with excitement

Legendary Leather Trousers in Concert at The Barbican

It is unfortunate when one knows that one's abiding memory of a performance will be the costume. Especially unfortunate if this is not an opera (or play) with special costumes but merely a concert. Triply unfortunate when it happens to have been one of the world's current best singers singing an interesting and intelligently planned concert. Quadruply unfortunate when he was in fine vocal form and in command of the stage, his stage charisma shining through and holding the audience in the palm of his hand.

Much excitement prior to last night's Barbican performance by Dmitri Hvorostovsky. And surprise the concert had got a preview in the Metro although it doesn't seem to be available online. I say intelligently planned because it was an excellent showcase of quite  a mixture of Russian music, starting with sacred, moving onto opera, then folk and finally Soviet popular song. As well as Dmitri, we were treated to the Moscow Chamber Orchestra and The Style of 5 Folk Ensemble under Constantine Oberlin and  the Moscow Academy of Choral Art Choir.

 

We started with the choir, directed by Victor Popov singing a cappella, then they were joined by Dimitri. There were four sacred works, all of which I enjoyed tremendously, enjoying a sound very different from the English Choral Sound.  There was a pause as the furniture was re-arranged and the orchestra arrived. We went up to the interval with Opera: Gryaznoy's Aria from The Tsar's Bride, the peasants' Chorus Vi mne pisali (You wrote a letter) from Evgeny Onegin, and Budem pit iveselitsya (We'll drink and be merry) and Yeletsky's aria from Queen of Spades. Whisper it quietly but this is my personal highlight of Queen of Spades and Dmitri was wonderful, an excellent climax to the first half, which had been exceptional anyway, regardless of the trousers.

The programme of the second half was less to my liking, and normally, I would have been indifferent to the content, folk songs and potentially cheesy pop songs - for the latter he used a microphone, which I suppose was appropriate and didn't stop his lustrous baritone from shining through. He seemed to be enjoying that tremendously, and I certainly did, even though that was mainly because of his voice.

There is no doubting that Dmitri has star quality. The concert hall was sold out and although obviously there were plenty of Russian people there, there were plenty more non-Russian. He does good concert, totally professional, there to entertain and deliver money's worth. His is one of those voices I could happily listen to endlessly - in the right repertoire (my mistake was that the first couple of times I heard him was in Rigoletto and Ballo and they were nothing special), a lyric baritone yet with plenty of dark colour when necessary, and some decent head voice.  He has an innate musicality, it is difficult to identify any flaws in the technique or the tone, and it all seems so effortless. He cuts a fine figure on stage. A handsome man, who knows his own worth and strides the stage with a supreme confidence.

Afterwards he was doing a signing. As usual I was towards the end of the queue, and as usual I didn't actually have the CD to be signed. I think he was probably a bit fed up and tired by the time he got to me and my friend. I asked if I could take a photo, and although he said, he asked me to take it from the side. Out of politeness I won't publish those photos. They're perfectly fine, although a bit fuzzy because I wasn't using flash.

Silverfin has also written a review which is more intelligent about the music and also mentions the thigh stroking. He was stroking his thigh. And his behind...

Juan Diego Florez at Cadogan Hall

  I really must revise my opinion about JDF. It's like, every time I see him, I always qualify my review by saying, I'm not sure that his sort of voice is really in line with my 'ideal' tenor voice. And then I say, I'd like him more in different repertory, because he sings a lot of Rossini, and I can take or leave Rossini.

But each time I hear Juanito, I keep coming away completely satisfied with his performance. Doesn't mean that I am suddenly going to become a 'tenor -di -grazie -singing -Rossini' freak, but I will happily listen to Juan Diego Florez singing Rossini far more than I would listen to many other singers in my preferred repertory. And, anyway, in the second half he went into Donizetti, Bellini,  Verdi and Wagner. I'm joking about the Wagner...Programme below the fold.

I do not think that he was in the best of vocal condition. There was once or twice when I felt that there was strain on certain notes. I was close enough that I could see his face quite clearly and he seemed to be wincing a few times. And despite incessant demanding applause from the audience, he did not sing Ah mes amis as an encore, although he must have known that was what we wanted and he seemed apologetic in saying that he would repeat the end part of Cessa di più resistere.

I much preferred the second half of the concert to the first, but that is largely because of my indifference to Rossini and my love of Donizetti and Verdi (I'm not overly familiar with Bellini but this concert is another step in making me realise I want to learn more). When I was listening, I could intellectualise about the brilliance of JDF's voice,  especially in executing the florid runs, whereas in the second half I was moved by the beauty of the music as well, of course, by his voice. Of the pieces on the main programme, my favourite was the 'Linda' aria but overall I liked Una furtiva lagrima the best. The woman next to me, clearly a very keen fan, said that she played six versions back to back and his was the best. I wasn't going to stand there arguing, but I did remember that I intended at one point to carry out my own competitive face-off between the numerous different versions I have on disc. I like dhis Verdi, and would certainly want to hear him as the Duca di Mantova, but I feel that he doesn'thave great enough low enough notes (as yet) and I would be happy to hear him in lots more Donizetti and Bellini - and having watched his Barbiere on the TV on Friday, I would actually go to Rossini if he was in it.

A thoroughly enjoyable evening. He is exceptional in concert; there are few singers who give such a polished performance. He doesn't do a lot of interaction with the audience, although he did speak twice during the encores, and during the long instrumental passage in Granada he implored the conductor (with facial expression) to let him have a go soon. He doesn't need to play act because, although quite a reserved and undemonstrative person, as far as I can tell, he is expressive in the way he actually sings. Any pub singer can ham it up on stage but only the greats can express meaning through voice alone, with just a bit of added extra body language that comes from within. I find his diction excellent. Without following the libretto in the programme I was able to follow with ease what he was singing. I suppose, because of being such a light tenor and because of his rep, he will never be my joint second favourite singer, but each time I hear him, I like him more and more. One of the current greats of the opera world, without a doubt. A very special singer.

I'm sorry that I couldn't get better photos but I was harassed by the camera police - and I wasn't even using flash. I feel sort of guilty about that, because I was one of the first bloggers in London habitually to publish illicit photos. Where I led, others followed, and now it's like the ushers are tasked to patrol. Maybe I'm paranoid, but I almost feel as though I am being singled out.  And yet, Juan saw my camera and smiled in a relaxed friendly way.

I can't understand why so many people left before the end. I will always accept that people have trains to catch. I was once at a concert next to someone who was in London for the day on business and decided to take in the concert even though he knew that he would have to leave early to catch the last train back to Leeds. But this concert finished at 10 pm, and I doubt that anybody will miss their last train as a result. Maybe they will have an hour's wait, but I would far rather sit miserably on a station than miss the encores of a concert - if I wasn't enjoying it all, I'd have been gone at the interval. Overheard on the way out some boring sod objecting to him singing 'Granada'. One cr**so**r song, in the encores, is hardly operatic sacrilege, especially as it's a song that very few people can actually sing well.

It seems that my alter ego was also there

Metroplitan opera opening night red carpet

Just some pictures picked up round the internet from Monday night

And just for the sheer heck of it, here's one of La Trebs

Francesco Tamagno

  The Complete Recordings of...

A recently acquired CD but one which can safely be said to be the oldest in my collection, recorded as it was in 1903 -04. Tamangno died in 1905, aged only 54.

It really is painful to listen to. This is one of those posts where I am going to state strong opinions and not only tolerate but welcome open dissent, because it is clearly largely a matter of taste, and there is no disputing, etc,

I see very little point in listening to these ancient recordings. There is some historic value in hearing, for example, Otello from the singer who created the role - although not At Verdi's choice. But this is somewhat diminished by the knowledge that Verdi never composed for a tinny piano and scratchiness in Niun mi tema. This is even worse in Di quella pira, where the piano sounds more like an end-of-the-pier hurdy gurdy.

This CD came cheap and this is only my second hearing of it. I cannot play it with Jimmy in the house. Not that that really matters, because I doubt that I shall play it again for years. It perhaps has some value as a dinner party conversation piece, but I no longer host dinner parties, and when I used to do so, conversation degenerated rapidly with inebriation.

I fully recognise that there is some intellectual value in listening to really old recordings such as this, and one can't really call oneself a tenor nut without a passing interest in the legacy of singers such as Tamagno and Caruso. It is said that it takes some time to get past the sonics on these early experimental discs, but I can assure anyone who says that I had plenty of practice in listening to scratchy 78s as a small child, to an extent that could have put me off tenors for life. When I listen to music, I want to hear the best, and the quality of recording is quite a significant factor in that (up to a point). I can't relax to this, I can't really appreciate the music, partly because of the absence of orchestra. Many times his voice sounds pinched, screechy and very wobbly. I have no way of knowing whether this was because this was the extent to which his voice had deteriorated by this stage in his career, or because of what is lost/distorted in the recording process.

I do not feel that I learn anything from listening to these, certainly not as much as I learn by reading a short biography of him. In 1902 Caruso received £100 for his first ten recordings. In 1903 Tamagno received a cash advance of £2000, plus four shillings on every record sold.

I do feel there is a macho search for purity in terms of historic recordings. Almost as if people prove their credentials by praising the performances with the worst sonics. People who prefer a live performance with an UHER mike held under a coat way back from the stage to a studio recording because it's more 'real'. People who record anything recorded digitally, or in stereo, as being false. Those who disdain anything that wasn't originally issued on cylinders. Indeed I have read a tongue-in-cheek comment that the best singers are those that never lowered themselves to be recorded, especially those who were wise enough to die before the birth of the Gramophone.

I actually have to cleanse my ears after listening to this by listening to some Verdi tenor arias beautifully and gloriously sung by a current singer and recorded on late(ish!) 20th century equipment in full DDD mode. Surely the way that Verdi would have wanted!

Luciano Pavarotti RIP

I find it quite difficult to write this. I generally find it difficult to write a tribute when someone dies. I find it a tad irksome when a significant passing brings out a flood of words motivated more by the need to mark a rite of passage and indulge a personal if often vicarious grief than out of genuine feeling.

I can't say I was ever a fan of Pavarotti, but as in the case of someone else, whose recent death I wrongly omitted to mark - Anthony Wilson - how can I remain untouched by his death when his life had brought me such joy.

And how can I say I am not a fan of someone who sings like this - I was about to change 'sings' to 'sang' but this beauty will live on forever

His death was not unexpected, it seemed a surprise that he survived pancreatic cancer so long, and then the final demise was rapid - which, I hope is a good thing. I was surprised at the wide spread of the media coverage on a day which, in the UK at least was not exactly a slow news day*. Not just the "Broadsheet" newspapers and Radios 3 and 4, but BBC News 24 and Sky, the red-tops and the purple-tops. And although I consider myself a careful student and an informed predictor of the media, this took me by surprise.

And in writing tributes and obituaries it is tempting to use superlative adjectives that are unevidenced, a result of emotion rather than fact-checking, especially in the downmarket newspapers.

What is absolutely without question that for millions, billions, of people who are not fans of opera or of classical music, Luciano Pavarotti was the face and epitome of opera. Other than that massive concert in the pouring rain in Hyde Park, I have never heard him live; if I had been inclined to, I would never have heard him in the vocal condition that made his name. I have a couple of DVDs with him in them, but I find them nearly unwatchable. I have relatively few of his recordings, and no complete operas - in every case there always seems to be a better alternative, and not just the obvious ones like Ballo and Tosca - I feel no pressing need to get Pav in Fille du Regiment on CD now that I have JDF on DVD.

I was startled to read in one of the tributes today that he never performed Calaf live on stage. I really find this to be extraordinary, but perhaps, in a sense, entirely typical of the contradictions of the artist. I think I would have been a bigger fan if he had focused more on the Bellini/Donizetti/lyric Verdi in which he excelled. But the number of roles he actually performed or even recorded is astonishingly low.

And, to be honest, it wasn't really for his opera performances that he became so universally famous, but for his role as a pop artist. I don't think he was ever a great musician, but undoubtedly a great singer with an innate musicality. I know a lot of people of my sort of age got into opera as a result of "The Three Tenors". I didn't. My mother and I sat down to watch it on the TV following her (day late) birthday tea and England's third place play-off match in Italia 90, with my brother breezing in and out as he got ready for a party and feigning utter boredom as is the wont of fifteen year olds...We thought we would be in a vanishingly small minority of people who would be watching it (we both had our favourite singers performing, neither of them was Pavarotti). We were, of course, wrong.

There are people who are hugely critical of The Three Tenors, as a trademarked entity and as individuals, and blame them squarely for the ghastly manifestation of plastic talentless plastic popera singers. And, I suppose, the emergence and inexplicable popularity of the likes of Bocelli, Jenkins, Watson, Potts and so on is the perfect proof of the Law of Unintended Consequences. Each of the Three Tenors had made their very great reputations, in different ways, through years and years of hard work and critical acclaim from experienced audiences in many different arduous roles in the world's top opera houses. I believe, because I have seen the evidence, that such performances did introduce many people to opera. The evidence that these artificial stars, reliant always on the magic of the microphone and the mixing desk, have done so is absent. Jimmy commented that he had caught a clip of the 3Ts on the news "they look like they're having fun!" he exclaimed, almost as he didn't think that was allowed!

There are an enormous number of obituaries, tributes, memories and reflections all over the internet, in every language I can read and, no doubt, many more besides, far far too many to include here, although the untiring stalwarts over at the 3Ts Yahoo Group are doing a splendid job.

But here are a few I have found worth reading, in no order other than left to right across the tabs in my browser...

Luciano Pavarotti: Remembrances

Luciano Pavarotti: Heirs to his popularity crown

Opera's greatest star brought classical music to the masses

Luciano Pavarotti Is Dead at 71

Luciano Pavarotti

Luciano Pavarotti: Operatic superstar blessed with a voice of pure gold whose career was a triumph of marketing

World pays tribute to Pavarotti, singer and man

Opera World Loses a Leading Ambassador

Placido Domingo pays tribute to Pavarotti, a friend and rival

Tenors lead tributes to Luciano Pavarotti

A really brilliant video tribute from TelegraphTV, surprisingly an ITN production, with insightful intelligent - definitive - comment from Sarah Crompton their Arts editor; the only fault being the absence of a deep links, but at least with an easily searchable sidebar. I swear, I drafted this blogpost before I watched this clip.

It’s not over, because the fat guy still sings

Luciano Pavarotti: Obituary "At the age of 12 Luciano contracted tetanus. He was in a coma for two weeks, and was twice given the last rites" - well, I'd never read that before, but, together with the genuine privations that came as Italy faced defeat in the war, really puts Paul Potts's pathetic sob stories into context.

Tributes pour in for Luciano Pavarotti

Pavarotti: Opera great with a popular touch

'It was all about the voice'

*Russian jets being intercepted by the RAF; a report published on the damaging effects of food addictives; the report into Foot and Mouth being leaked; Madeline McCann's mother being interviewed by Portuguese Police; the funeral of 11 year old murder victim Rhys Jones broadcast live from Liverpool Cathedral; the England football, rugby and cricket teams gearing up for crucial matches on Saturday.

Nessun Dorma

One of those slightly strange days; I had barely got to my desk and hadn't even switched on my PC let alone sipped my coffee when somebody is talking about Pavarotti. And later in the morning, I went to another bank of desks, to return something I'd borrowed, and my opinion is being sought on Pav.

I walked into the building after lunch and noticed a small crowd gathered in the lift lobby. My immediate thought was that there was something wrong with the lifts, but, it turns out,the crowd is watching the TV, BBC News24, with Pav. So I stay a few minutes to watch too. The crowd disperses, and this woman, whom I don't know, have never seen before, asks me "Is he dead?" I said, yes, it was no surprise, he's had pancreatic cancer; she said "I didn't think he'd die today, I thought he would last until tomorrow..." bursts into tears and almost collapses in my arms. I really don't know what to do at this point, I'm not used to public shows of emotion at work, and of nearly four thousand people, from two government departments, she chooses me to be the one she cries onto.

This evening, I'm in Jimmy's pub, and stating that I don't especially likes the music. He tells me I can be in control; it's a 5000 track WinAmp playlist. SO I put on "Nessun Dorma". From time to time, and only rarely, one can get away with such a choice of music. Of course I end up in a debate with someone I have known all the time I've lived in London; neither of us actually know who is singing on this particular version, and anyway, we don't like Nessun Dorma. Still, we recognise he was a catalyst in getting people into a type of music that maybe otherwise they might not have.

So, to escape from Nessun Dorma on a loop, and considering my nom de net elsewhere, I can only bring you Elephants Yeah

I did hear Pavarotti live, once. In Hyde Park in 1991. Not exactly the sort of event one forgets in a hurry.

I shall write more tomorrow, but it's been one of those days with a home PC crash over breakfast, a reluctance to blog from work, and some serious running around in the evening.

Sad news about Luciano

Opera legend Pavarotti 'worsens'

Opera star Luciano Pavarotti's health has worsened and he is in a "very serious" condition, Italian media say.

Pavarotti, 71, has been suffering from pancreatic cancer and was released from hospital on 25 August after a series of tests were carried out.

He is now being treated at home in the northern city of Modena surrounded by family and friends.

Pavarotti had surgery for the cancer in July 2006 in New York and has not made any public appearances since then.

Not surprising but still upsetting.

Reuters says

Le ténor italien Luciano Pavarotti est inconscient et ses reins ne fonctionnent plus

I feel very sorry for his daughter Alice who isn't yet five; still, what a wonderful legacy of recorded beauty.

Kiri Te Kanawa

  I have liked Dame Kiri for a long time. I first encountered her as a result of the televising of the Charles and Diana farce wedding, and subsequently she got a lot of mass media coverage.

Sopranos don't tend to rate amongst my favourite voice types - even with female singers I prefer mezzos and, especially, contraltos. But when I do like sopranos I like ones whose voice have the timbre of crystal, of whom Kiri is the epitome. People have called her 'Dreary Kiri', some have said watching her 'acting' is akin to Hari Kiri. Cruel, but understandable.

This double CD is a recent acquisition, a present from my very clever Kiwi/Yorkshire nephew who shares his birthday with Kiri. It is very pleasant listening, Disc 1 in particular. I think what I like about it is the fact that she, or whoever compiled it, has avoided making it a chestnuts album filled with the predictable clichéd overplayed Classic FM that the plastic wannabes record ad nauseam. there is a lot of material on it which is otherwise unfamiliar - or nearly so - to me - especially the Duparc, Ravel and Korngold arias. I really don't know Dir tote Stadt at all, but is due to get its UK staged premiere in about 18 months time at Covent Garden. This aria "Glück, das mir verblieb' inherits the same sound world as Strauss's Presentation of the Rose - although the only Strauss on this is the Marschallin's aria from Act I.

The mood of the entire disc is incredibly peaceful and tranquil. I suppose those who want their divas to chew the furniture while they slash and burn will invoke the 'Dreary Kiri ' clause. But I like its restfulness. I also like the fact that in many of the selection it seems that the orchestra is allowed to display its music. Considering that the various tracks are from a variety of recordings with various orchestras under various stick-wavers, I can only assume that this is a sensitive and intelligent, if arguably idiosyncratic selection by the compiler.

I am less keen on the second CD. It is perfectly pleasant and enjoyable when it comes on the mp3 player, but a whole album of folk, musical theatre and pop songs gets a bit much, especially when I have better versions of many of them in my collection, whether by Kathleen Ferrier or Simply Red.

  I got her 'Ave Maria' so long ago that I have it on vinyl. I am currently digitising my cassettes, and all my vinyl is also on cassette. I am thinking it would make more sense to get myself a turntable and digitise my original vinyl, but I am rather scared even to look at them, suspecting that they have been warped by years of storage in the bedroom cupboard, all carefully standing up - and I have recently learned they ought to be stacked. In any case, I don't find anything attractive in the hiss and cackle, not to mention pop and jump, of vinyl. It is relatively easy to digitise a cassette; the sound is generally reasonable enough, if I work through them I will probably find a few worth reinvesting in on CD.

This is a gorgeous album, and one of which I have made countless copies for friends etc, back in the days when people wanted proper singers singing their light excepts unsullied by horribilised pop, rather than Katherine-Potts-Bocelli straining through Never Mind the Bollocks in Middle German with a heavily legato string arrangement.

And indeed, every singer has eventually to release a sacred album. Dame Dreary Kiri did so before the major milestone in my life The 1991 Acquisition-Migration-to-CD. Every track on this is lovely, and, without exception is executed in a lovely manner by the exquisite voice of Kiri. I adore Mozart's Laudate Dominum; not much later I got a CD of it in context, and that is still one of my favourite CDs. I like Bist du Bei Mir less now than then, because I have an alternative version I often repeat-play almost to over-play. I I think this is a tad too gentle and devotional and lacking basic human emotion.

Gounod's Sanctus is fantastic. Gounod is one of those composers that every time I hear something by him, I keep meaning to explore all. This is full of bombast and grand drama, and almost impossible (for me) to sing along to, even when alone in the house, solo part or chorus , and especially both together...In general I would say that while it is a pleasant album, it's not necessarily one that can be played over and again.

Pavarotti sings Puccini/Essential Pavarotti

Those of you who have been paying close attention to my blog for the past x years will know that I am working slowly and steadily through my entire record collection and blogging it.

It may come as a surprise to some that I have two records by Pavarotti in my collection. Admittedly, one was taped off my mother's copy years ago. I can't remember why I bought the other. Perhaps it was a Britannia Record of the month which I forgot to cancel way back in the days when the Pav had a voice, sort of.

 But actually, the tracks on it were recorded in 1973, and 1979-1980, so it's a pretty good product. It's called Ti Amo and is pure Puccini, no dubious crossover crap. The excerpts from La Bohème, by no means my favourite opera, even by Puccini, are simply exquisite, taken from that benchmark recording in 1973 with Herbie and the Berliners; having these four tracks saves me the trouble of having to buy the complete recording (ducks...)

It also includes Nessun dorma, which is the only operatic aria I truly hate with a vengeance and a passion, and every bloody tenor has to include it on his compilation CD. Basta! I say. But it would be bloody strange to have a Pav-Puccini album without that dreadful turgid song from Turandot.

I could live quite happily without his excerpts from Tosca. I have a very clear idea of how I want my Cavaradossi to sound. And it ain't Luciano. Supposedly it's his signature role, but I think that I would rather hear him in Bel Canto than in this

 It is extremely pleasant to listen to the Essential Pavarotti. His voice was - and as captured on record is - extraordinary. I would actually go so far as to say that in terms of pure vocal technique and sound it is the most 'perfect' voice in my not insubstantial Tenor collection. And I always get pleasure from listening to Pavarotti. I don't get anything like as much pleasure from watching him act, but this post is purely about the audio experience. What an amazingly technically brilliant and sweet voice.This compilation features most of the arias one would expect on an aria compilation by a leading Italian/lyric tenor - although, Una furtiva lagrima apart, there is an absence of Donizetti and perhaps too many tending to the spinto-dramatic range. I cannot contemplate anyone who appreciates gorgeous singing not enjoying this. And yet, there is something that leads me wanting. I suppose it is an absence of differentiation between the dramatic requirements of the roles, both Canio (Pagliacci) and Manrico (Trovatore) sound surprisingly cheerful, considering; Neromino surprisingly morose.

And how amazing album to work one's way through an entire album of some of the best arias ever written, executing them perfectly, with a beautiful voice, ringing High Cs, squillo, the lot.

Lacking nothing except emotion and any indication of actually being involved in the songs.

I am so ambivalent to Pavarotti. Technically perfect voice. And so boring. Just singing the top arias of the top repertoire, all Italian. Singing them perfectly. But it might as well be the Argos catalogue.

If any Pavarotti fan comes here and decides to flame me, I hold my hands up. Perfect voice. But when I hear a tenor singing tenor arias, I don't want to sit there saying in my head 'Perfect execution'. I want my reaction to be visceral, physical and, not to put too fine a point on it, sexual. I will never argue against the clinical perfection of Pavarotti's voice. I have a favourable intellectual reaction. It simply doesn't get my juices flowing. Sorry.

Anybody who has been watching the news will know that he hasn't been well. He was treated for pancreatic cancer last summer, is down to 11 stone, would you believe, and is currently in hospital having been treated for pneumonia or some such. Naturally, I wish him the best but I can't say the prospect of a new album - presumably valedictory - exactly thrills me.

Stage Door Stalking

It's been a multi-hit few days.

Two weeks ago Saturday Jimmy and I were in the Piazza at Covent Garden, doing bits of stuff in town - I wanted to do a ticket exchange at the Box Office, we had already picked up his photos, we had spotted a premature 'End Brown's War' t-shirt near Parliament Square, and we later went to dinner at the Angela Gheorghiu/Roberto Alagna Tribute Restaurant. Crossing the Piazza, we bumped into Steve who mentioned that Faye and Helen were at the Stage Door, so we went round to say hello. As we were saying 'hello' Anna Netrebko arrived in a dreadful rush, and Jimmy later came out with his unstarstruck comment. This was followed a week later by him saying he had been watching CNN who had had a long feature on her. "She's a really big star, sells more records than pop stars, and here's me thinking 'who dos she think she is?' ". Jimmy went to the pub and Erwin arrived.

Last Tuesday after Don Giovanni we waited outside the Stage Door. This was possible on that particular evening because it wasn't actually raining! There are advantages and disadvantages in hanging back and being non-pushy. In general the advantages outweigh the disadvantages.

We had a really nice long chat with Kyle Ketelsen (Leporello) who came over as being pleasant and thoughtful. He mentioned that he is Escamillo next season, so we were chatting about the horse. He will have the opportunity for extra practice specially with the horse. He and Carla had a long chat about The Rake's Progress (2010) but as I don't (yet) know the work, it was well over my head.

Ana Maria Martinez was met by her cousin and therefore naturally was in a hurry to get away. I just said 'thank you' to her, and she thanked me, which was nice. Faye went inside to get Anna Netrebko's autograph. By the time Anna got outside onto Floral Street, she was disinclined to pause further, which is fair enough because a) she had spent a considerable time already inside the Stage Door a b) not one of them is under any obligation whatsoever to pause for one moment to sign autographs, pose for photos or chat (and I expect it can be mentally tiring especially for those who are neither native nor fluent English speakers).

Erwin emerged and we had quite a long chat with him. He was a bit cagey about future plans except a Figaro revival. He asked whether we had enjoyed the performance; I said I wasn't sure so I was coming back the next week to make sure, which in retrospect was a particularly stupid thing for me to say! I explained that I would have liked to take his photo but I had left the memory card for my camera at home! At one point someone came over and asked him a question (which year was it he won Operalia). When he had finished chatting with them he returned to us and said "Carla, you were saying..." I find him very impressive, quite apart from the excellent work he does on stage, because he oozes charisma and has a definite 'star presence' yet at the same time there is absolutely nothing primadonna-ish about him. Very down-to-earth, approachable; I feel chatting with him like I feel like I'm chatting with a colleague or a 'friend of a friend'.

On Monday, after Katya Kabanova we waited at the Stage Door briefly for Toby Spence. He was clearly in a hurry and under no obligation to pause, but he did. I took a photo of him and Faye, and he checked that it had come out all right and was patient and pleasant as I took a second one. I am not a massive fan, but I do think he is talented, I considered him the best of the pundits at Cardiff Singer, and although I did not especially enjoy Katya Kabanova (review anon) I do recognise that his performance was excellent. He is blond and pretty, and I did have a sense of him fulfilling an ex-public schoolboy stereotype but my albeit fleeting encounter has left me with an impression of a gentleman.

But Wednesday was the Big Night. To my surprise and relief the rain held off for a while, although as it happens, that was not an important consideration because we were inside the outer Stage Door. We knew not to expect Anna Netrebko because she had been taken off at half time with a metatarsal injury cold,  to be replaced by Marina Poplavaskaya who had scored a goal in time-added-on acquitted herself marvellously.

We had a chat again with Kyle Ketelsen. I wished him a Happy 4th July, and he pointed out that he was wearing Red, White and Blue, although he realised it was a bit pointless because our flag is the same colour. Faye suggested he had should have worn his flag at the Curtain Calls, as Bryn did in Die Walküre when Wales won the Six Nations. But as Kyle says - Bryn runs this place. We gave him advice on how to get tickets for Bryn's Sweeney Todd this weekend (I suggested he pulled some strings, this clearly hadn't occurred to him). Brenda commented that it would be quite quite wrong for an American to be flaunting a flag on American Independence Day in the UK (with which I agree; I had been at a professional  event and some prat had wished us all a 'Happy Independence Day' obviously too stupid to realise what he was saying). I got the impression that Kyle felt it would be a mis-step to flag wave (presumably as a well-travelled, sensitive, thoughtful American, he is aware of how such things can be massively misinterpreted). In any case I assured him that we are considering Revoking the Declaration of Independence.

Marina Poplavskaya emerged. She looked somewhat like a rabbit caught in the headlamps, a bit overwhelmed, although she had paused to talk with the gathered Russians. I said 'thank you' and she smiled and thanked me. I felt she thought that I was thanking her for 'saving the day' but in fact I would have liked to say "I think you're wonderful; I heard you as a Norn, I heard you at the Cyrano Insight evening, I was delighted to hear you as half of Donna Anna, and I am so looking forward to seeing you as Elizabetta". But I missed the chance to get her photo.

Robert Lloyd came out, and although I like him tremendously, I left him to Brenda who is a massive fan.

Then Erwin emerged and he stayed for ages, and we had such a good laugh with him. Whilst he was busy entertaining us, Ana Maria Martinez came out. I said how much I had enjoyed her performance, and also I had seen her in concert in Dublin  a couple of years ago and really enjoyed that. I don't think she particularly understood me, although I hope she understood that I was being positive and complimentary. I got the feeling that she was a bit daunted by the group of fans, although that may partly be the language thing.

Erwin was wonderful, putting on a show after the show. We asked him again about his future plans and he said that he had things pretty much sorted for 2009-12; he's intending to do Faust! At which I exclaimed "Ooh, the Dress!". Brenda suggested that his chest isn't hairy enough for The Dress, so she would buy him a chest wig, but he said "There's this thing called shaving!" He said he was only prepared to be Mephistopholes if he could wear High Heels and play it as Drag Queen, and he started mincing around as if he was in high heels - and very convincing, too. (later, Faye said 'I'm so looking forward to Erwin as Mephisto and I could have sworn she said Frankenfurter).

We did the photos. He congratulated me on bringing my memory card and teasingly made some comment about the mistake I had made in not bringing it. I did think of saying that the following day I had been thinking of heading to Downing Street but realised it was a bit pointless greeting a new Prime Minister without a memory card. But I didn't. He posed for a photo, saying "This is me as Don Giovanni!" So I said, "Take you clothes off, then..." (yes, I did, really...).

He insisted on posing first with Faye and then with me. He was showing us photos of his daughter; someone asked if she was going to be a soprano "God, I hope not, a mezzo I hope." But then said that most of her repertoire is bass-baritone and he treated us to an impromptu compilation of excerpts.

We were also talking about the astonishing numbers of singers emerging from South America,and he ws saying how the schools in Uruguay are filled with music, very small children actively making music. I should have asked whether this was like  Venezuelan 'El Sistema', which is the most amazing and remarkable social inclusion programme, being copied in many countries (including Scotland, but not  - yet - England...attention Ed Balls).

A woman arrived and said she had come from France for the performance and it had been worthwhile. He asked to sign her programme (I like the way he does that; it makes fans feel less like we are imposing!). He asked her where she was from, she said Chamonix, so he asked whether she was Linda di Chamonix. I think she was a bit bemused, being the late comer to what was becoming a party of much laughter. He asked me what was happening in London, and I made some comment about the rain, then realised he meant the security alert. I wasn't really sure what to say - other than something about comedy terrorists - because I am increasingly conscious of what should and shouldn't say. Also, I suppose, I've been in London 16 years, the South East 18, and frequent visitor prior to that, and regard security alerts as just a way of life. I'm not sure how long Erwin has been visiting London but I presume he wasn't around when security alerts were an everyday irritation that we just worked round. And, judging from the internet as well as my Real Life socialising, people are talking about the freak weather more than the failed terrorism.

I know some people think it is a bit adolescent to hang round the Stage Door; I also know that some people mistake the genuine warmth and friendly nature of many stars as being genuine friendship.  I sense that some performers, still on an adrenaline high after the show, actually enjoy the opportunity to shoot the breeze;  they wouldn't be human if they didn't also enjoy the admiration and adulation. I also respect that others want peace and quiet, or their trusted friends, or a meal, and being pestered by fans is a bit of an ordeal to be endured. And I do not for a moment think that having a chat and a laugh means we are best buddies, any more than I think that exchanging pleasantries with my auditees makes us friends, as such.

And one thing is absolutely certain, both from the performance of Don Giovanni and the post-show backstage, Erwin Schrott is megastar material.

What I did tonight...

Admittedly, this is quite possibly the worst photo ever possible not only of me but also of the lovely Erwin Schrott. We met him - and many others of the cast of Don Giovanni at the Stage Door. I will write a report soonest - or, after I have written about Monday's Katya Kabanova and Tuesday's Lakme. Right now I am totally done in but have work tomorrow...

Dmitry Korchak recital

I attended a recital by this wonderful young tenor, Dmitry Korchak, at St John's Smith Square, part of the ongoing Rosenblatt Recital Series. Pianist Simon Lepper.

I had first heard Dimitry two or three years ago in a gala of ten tenors at the Festival Hall, and I decided to book for this.

A lovely evening.

The first half consisted mainly of Rachmaninov songs, all of which were unfamiliar to me. As I was listening I was thinking, yeah, he's good, but I'm not convinced he's the finished article. He finished the first half with a stunningly gorgeous Kuda kuda (Lensky's Aria) from Evgeny Onegin.

In the second half he concentrated on non-Russian stuff. Dies bildnis ist bezaubend schön from Magic Flute; Je crois entendre encore from Pearlfishers; Una furtiva lagrima from L'elisir d'amore; A te o cara from I puritani; & Seul sur la terre from Dom Sébastien, with the encores being Mattinata by Leoncavallo and another Rach song.

I thought he was gorgeous in the opera stuff, a sweet lyric voice and an engaging stage manner. He is very cute - the woman next to me commented that she found it difficult to believe he is as old as 28, and when he saw and heard the applause of the audience, he grinned irrepressibly. When he was singing Una furtiva, I seriously believed he was singing it directly to me, for me only. Definitely one to watch. But you know that anyway, being a prizewinner at Operalia three years ago

It was a shame that the hall was only half full, but, I have to say, I remembered why I am so reluctant to attend St John's Smith Square. There seems to be a cliquey bunch of people who attend religiously - with so many venues in London I don't see the point about being a venue-obsessive - and they have this unveiled hostility to incomers under the age of fifty. To my left and behind were obnoxious boors.

So, while I welcome Ian Rosenblatt's matchless contribution to tenor (and other voice-types!) worship in London, I am rather glad that the next one will be at Cadogan Hall where the SJSS bullies won't be so conspicuous.

Update: Available to download here

The evening I was Mrs Senza-camera...

So I can't prove that I met Anna Netrebko nor that Erwin Schrott kissed me on both cheeks. Donna Anna was in a rush, perhaps thinking she was late, then her swipecard wouldn't open the door into the Royal Opera House.

Erwin greeted me with "Everyone's here!"

I shall see the opera on Tuesday, and again in July. This evening, though, I was kissed by Don Giovanni himself.

Jimmy's comment on La Netrebko "To look at she isn't all that. She's too thin." I don't think that Jimmy will ever be a diva-worshipper! He left for the pub just moments before Erwin arrived.

A worthy winner

The great thing about Cardiff Singer of the Year - and similar shows - is that you start off with a list of 25 almost unknown names. I recognised three names from appearances in London, and a further one from blogging, but I had no clear idea of what any of them was like. There is a little niggle in the back of your head, that we are being served with 25 singers who might all combine all the merits of provincial, generic, comprimario and routine. And just a week later, it is easy to identify some real about-to-be-stars and a bunch more of singers who will be a pleasure to hear, even if not a 'draw' in their own right.

I was delighted that Jacques Imbrailo won the Audience Prize. To me, it made sense to vote for someone not in the Final, and it seems that the Great British Public had the same idea.

I never had any doubt in mind that Shen Yang was going to win. Well, not until the moment when John fisher from WNO went on at great length in Welsh before announcing the winner! In the heat shown on Wednesday he gave me that 'wow' factor within 30 seconds. Come the two finals, Song and Grand, my expectations were higher, so the wow was different. I was very impressed by his Song Prize recital, but agree that Liz Watts was a worthy winner.

The Final with full orchestra was an hour and a half of pure pleasure and entertainment. There wasn't one singer performing who doesn't fill me with delight. I think it would have been very difficult to choose between the four runners up, they had their strengths and weaknesses. Of the four, I thought that Liz Watts was clearly the one most finished and ready now. I thought Miranda Keys is so obviously going to be a great Brunnhilde, etc in ten years time; Levente Molnar gave a quite different impression in the Final than the heat - in retrospective it seemed his attitude was that he was there for the experience- to learn,to entertain and to enjoy himself, rather than believing he could win. And it was obviously quite a shock to realise that he was the Final. Dramatically, he impressed me the most. Some people have suggested his heat was a bit inyerface showy, but I think he proved in the final that he is a man of substance.

Maria Isabel Vera impressed me much more in the Final than the heats, and I am now clearer about the force of her voice. Mary King and Tony Pappano were both of the view that singing four arias was one too many. To me, it seemed that in choosing Stride la vampa, È lui! è lui! ne' palpiti and O don fatale, as well as Voi lo sapete, o mamma, she was more or less saying that she is a one trick pony. That having been said, that could be a very shrewd career move: she's never going to be out of work in major houses if she can master those roles with that voice - other than Stephanie Blythe there's not many people I can think of who can hack them.

But Shen Yang is so obviously a musician and a singer. Over and again it was mentioned that he is only 23, which is exceptionally young for a bass-baritone, apparently. But I think also proof that "if you're good enough, you're old enough". Expert analyser Mary King (a vocal coach) was obviously entirely smitten, and when Tony Pappano was quizzed about the notes he was making during the performance, his subsequent evasion and blushing were very telling. They both felt he was the winner, it was pretty obvious to me. On the whole, the internet seems in accordance, with comments such as the 'best bass-baritone since Bryn Terfel' (what, he's retired?), although, naturally, there are dissenting opinions, such as 'soporific'.

But, barring burnout and other calamities, I expect to see all six finalists and many of the others on the International Stage for many years to come.

A public appeal

My regular readers will know that my interest in opera is driven purely by my love of the music. And the words. And the plot. the sets, the lighting, occasionally the costumes. My hero worship of singers is based primarily on their voice, musicality, dramatic interpretation.

With all that firmly fixed in mind, nevertheless, I am appealing for a photo. I keep reading about Don Giovanni - Erwin Schrott - ending up in hell wearing nothing but a strategically attached laydee.

Only as a public service to my readers - and perhaps this appeal is aimed particularly at the posh people in the orchestra stalls, with a good camera, set with a wide aperture and a slow shutter speed (but not so wide/slow as to cause unintentional shake) - I was just, you know, wondering, merely for the sake of completeness, are there any, you know, photos?

[email protected]

By the way, everything and anything else you need about the luscious Mr Schrott can be found at Erwin Schrott Titbits Page, lovingly maintained by Giorgia

Death in Venice

I went to this ages ago - the end of May - and I don't understand why I haven't blogged it,because I really enjoyed it. In fact,it's pretty safe to say that everything I have seen at ENO in 2007 has been really really worthwhile, which is a helluva lot better than can be said for ROH, out of which I have walked twice this year. Oh well, win some lose some.

Perhaps the reason I didn't blog Death in Venice is because of my woeful ignorance. Of course I know the story, who doesn't? Not that I have read Thomas Mann, but I seen the film - the Visconti film, starring the incomparable Dirk Bogarde. Sadly, transmitted by the BBC at the wrong screen size, leading to a dreadful distortion of the haunting Mahler.

But about Benjamin Britten's opera I knew zilch. And I'm not going to even pretend to make an intelligent comment about it. I loved it. I thought there were committed performers in an absorbing opera with a brilliant production. There are lots of reviews all over the interwebthing, from people who know what they're talking about. So what I can I say - and, like eleven days later, how precise can I get?

Ian Bostridge was...interesting. I want to like him, and I do like him, but I can never feel passionately about him. His performance was musical and tortured, very convincing acting. A lot of people say he is, and appears, too young to play Aschenbach, and he certainly comes over much younger than Bogarde's portrayal. But I was happy to overlook that.

I suppose the style isn't everyone taste - it's not actually that popular even with people who are fond of Britten. It's not exactly a stop and sing pretty arias for the show-off-of-voice, which deters people. But you know, I liked it! Peter Coleman Wright was also excellent in the various baritone roles, and, surprisingly, I really liked the seagull counter-tenor Iestyn Davies who sang the Voice of Apollo, a role specifically written for counter-tenor. I wrote somewhere else - and now I forget where - that it was interesting that he soared above the light orchestra, which c-ts don't do in parts written for castrati /soapbox.

If I had to single out one reason why I like Britten it's the percussion. Despite the commendable singing performances and the stunning set, time and again it was the percussion that thrilled me. I keep saying I need to get more into Britten, but time and stuff conspire against me. However, I know that I have the rest of my life; like Handel, his operas are going to be performed more and more. So I shall learn by osmosis rather than study.

Some blogger somewhere - can't remember where, do please claim credit if it were you - singled out the lighting, and I can't argue. So atmospheric, of the Lido/beach, the hotel, and so on. I thought the sets were gorgeous, and I like the way the floor alternatively represented the canals of Venice and the highly polished floor of the hotel. I liked that the sets represented a concept of Venice rather than spelling.it.out.in.big.letters.with.perfect.reproductions.of.St.Marks.and.various. palazzos. And most of all I liked the movements, the way the characters interacted, and the choreography of the boys, who were beautiful to watch.

There's plenty to provoke the thoughts, in Britten's novel and in Visconti's film, and it's potentially a delicate and controversial subject. To put it crudely, Aschenbach is lusting after an adolescent, which makes it sound all murky. More correctly, he is looking at this beautiful child-man and appreciating the beauty, is falling in love, and yet, all the time, the beauty and vivacity, and innocence, of the child is a stark reminder of his own 'old age' (in his fifties...), ugliness, and impotence (as a writer, and, I suppose, sexually). Obviously not one for the Daily Mail/Classic FM Brigade, and it makes me feel uncomfortable - am I naive in thinking it's just some old man's fantasies, or is there something more sinister going on. I want to believe that the main theme is the contrast between youthful beauty and ageing deterioration, and not that it's a pederast's charter (although, let's be honest, no one would raise an eyebrow if the object of his desire was a girl of the same age - fair game in the public subconscious...)

It still has one more performance left, on Wednesday, and I hope that they revive it in the near future.

And, finally a big hello to Mandy. I had hoped to catch up with you in the interval, but I had to bolt to the street for my nicotine fix, then the lift on the way back took for ever up and down up and down. but it was nice to see you, and I hope you enjoyed it, too!

Oh, and the stick waver was Edward Gardner who has cunningly had some grey dye inserted into his hair to make him appear older than Tadzio.

Angela Gheorghiu Concert

At the Barbican last night.

Now, I have to state up front, I really like Angela Gheorghiu as a singer, and I have enjoyed every performance I have seen her in, on stage and on DVD. But there is something about her that brings out the inner bitch in me - which, let's be honest, doesn't lie very far beneath the surface. If you find bitchiness reprehensible, tough!

First of all, I must comment on her wardrobe for the evening. I was really quite shocked at her first dress, which I immediately assumed was from Primark. But as they don't display their wares on their site, it's impossible to prove. I then decided that it was a cheap - very cheap - rip-off of Anna Netrebko's Estrada gown, seen at the same venue six months ago. Some inspired surfing helped me to identify it as being straight from the Littlewoods catalogue. I did feel that by her age, 45 or whatever, she really should stop dying her hair black. Her natural colour is no darker than mine, but even though I am considerably younger, I find blonde and auburn highlights work a treat.

For the first half of the second half, she appeared in this Dorothy Perkins gown. I think it would have looked better if she had worn a bra underneath. Even though she isn't blessed in that department, gravity has taken its inevitable toll. For the latter part of the second half she wore a red satin dress. It was actually quite nice, or, would have been in the next size up. Didn't really go with the gold glitter shoes. And then, afterwards, she appeared for a signing in a tight red skirt, a shiny gold jacket and a pair of shoes that managed to make Sarah Brightman's look classy - I think it was the wrap-around-the-calves ribbons that really set them apart.

Now for the music:

Verdi Overture: Nabucco
Giordani 'Caro mio ben'
Handel 'Lascia ch'io pianga'
Mascagni Intermezzo from Cavalleria Rusticana
Leoncavallo 'Stridono lassu' from I Pagliacci
Puccini 'Ch'il bel sogno di doretta...' from La Rondine
Puccini 'In quelle trine morbide' from Manon Lescaut
Bizet 'Habanera' from Carmen
Tchaikovsky Overture: Romeo & Juliet
Puccini 'O mio babbino caro' from Gianni Schicchi
Puccini 'Un bel di vedremo' from Madama Butterfly

Nabucco Overture was a nice way to start off the evening; although a bit frustrating, because there are hints of Va pensiero in it, but without a chorus, it wasn't possible.

Angela's first two numbers were disappointing. The Giordani because she entirely failed to hit one key note and was a bit approximate to quite a few others. The Lascia ch'io pianga was the low point of the evening. She is emphatically not a Handel soprano. I felt she was attempting to be derivative of Renée Fleming in the inappropriately mannered and effortful performance. Some people claimed Angela made no effort whatsoever, which I think is unfair, because she clearly made a lot of effort in this. The last time I heard this performed live was by Carolyn Sampson, who made it sound so simple and effortless! Someone said the last time they heard Morticia sing it she forgot the words, causing audience member Cecilia Bartoli to chuckle heartily.

The Leoncavallo was fine, nothing special but nothing to make me shudder. And in the Ch'il bel sogno di doretta we did get a glimpse of what she is capable of when she applies herself. After the interval was more Puccini - okay, nothing special - and her best number of the evening, the Habanera from Carmen. It would be funny to say it was derivative of Warbling Barbie, but it wasn't. She had great pitch, a wonderful tone, a real sense of knowing what she was singing, and an understanding of how the character of Carmen is portrayed in the music. I am not sure she has the full range of low notes, but towards the bottom of her range she has gorgeous colour of tone, quite different from the bell like clarity of her beautiful notes towards the top.

Next came the highlight of the evening, Tchaikovsky's wonderful Romeo and Juliet overture. There was a time in my life that I must have played this about three times a week. I went off Tchaik for a while, but he seems to have crept up on me in the past year or so, and this piece is just so fabulously great. I was almost in tears. In fact, the only thing that ruins it is that it doesn't break into the 1812 Overture!

Angela returned, performed a couple of Puccini arias very pleasantly, and we waited with growing excitement for the encores. Having predicted them, we were absolutely right. First, Musika, the Romanian song that she often sings, which is pleasant. Next was 'I Could Have Danced All Night' - I can only quote my friend who has written "where the LSO did a superb job of drowning her out". And, finally, I knew it was going to be Granada because I could see the score on the music stands of the back row of the first violins. I really could not believe what she did. she actually failed to come on stage until after it had started. Absolutely derivative, ripped off from that silly joke that Pláci plays with the audience whenever he sings Granada - except that the point is, with him, everyone is expecting and wanting him to sing what is effectively a signature song, whereas, no one especially wants Angela Gheorghiu to sing it.

So, overall, it was an enjoyable evening, made more so by the fine London Symphony Orchestra under Ion Marin. But, especially when one considers what Ms Gheorghiu is capable of, it is annoying to be treated to something less. I think it's reasonable to compare her against her own high standards, it's just a pity she didn't match them.

Carmen Stage Door

After attending the wonderful performance of Carmen, Faye and I were on SOSSLED duty at the Stage Door. There was a fair handful of people there. Not a large group and not a crowd, but more than allowed us for monopolise the attention of our stars. We don't like to detain them long if they are a bit shy, or seem to be in a hurry, or whatever, but they all graciously posed for photos, which is always appreciated. We took time to complement them on and thank them for their peformance. Photos in the order in which they emerged.

Norah Ansellem

Ildebrando D’Arcangelo

Anna Caterina Antonacci

 

Tony Pappano

Last out was Jonas, who did linger. I got the impression he was in a hurry: one of the minor roles was anxious to go and eat, so I checked whether he was in a hurry, and he reassured me he wasn't. We chatted for a short while,  photos were taken (I took one of Faye with him, but I'd better check first before I publish it), and I hope I impressed upon him how much I had enjoyed the performance. He presented each of us with a signed photo, saying that he had two left, and we should have them. Very nice!

Jonas Kaufmann

I always appreciate it so much when singers and conductors take the time to be greeted by fans afterwards. they're under no obligation to do so, and often tired and hungry after the perfomance.  I know some enjoy extending the adrenaline rush and love the adulation, but I don't think that goes for the majority.It was soon clear, for example, that Ildebrando was struggling to understand English, and the lovely Tony our wonderful conductor always looks a bit bemusedwhen greeted by fans 'rabbit caught in the headlights' as Faye put it.  I do think it's very brave of them, because they never know quite who'll be waiting on any given evening, and they surely know that every house has its nutter quotient.

I would say that the majority of singers etc I have met are approachable, personable, pleasant.  Most of them seem to be pretty much down to earth, tending to leave their glamorous side for stage and for photo shoots. It's a nice end to an enjoyable evening.

We also met another star, Louis the horse, but I didn't take a photo, in case flash was a bad move. Big horse. Beautiful.

Don José and me

Jonas Kaufmann kindly posing for a photo with the Brixton Village Idiot

It makes me look as if I'm smitten...post-performance I sidled up to him and said apropos of the Carmen I had just thoroughly enjoyed, "That was...steaming...!"  He clearly got my drift!

Please understand, if I fall for a singer, it's voice first, interpretation second, acting third, stage presence fourth, personality fifth, and then only looks/sex appeal.

He confirmed he would be back at Covent Garden for Traviata in January 2008. when he said "with Anna Netrebko" everyone went 'ooooh'!

Just found this feature on him: This sexy singer is sticking to opera  Jonas Kaufmann: why he won't be jumping on the crossover wagon

A plague of booing

Well, Jose Cura was booed for his Don Carlo in Wien on Friday, and in extraordinary breaking news from Milano, Roberto Alagna threw a total hissy fit and refused to return after he got hissed and booed for his Celeste Aida.

ALAGNA OUT OF AIDA. He's all like: C U L8R LAM3RZ!!

So, in one week, there's been booing in New York, Wien and Milano. If any such unrowdiness happens in sedate London tomorrow, rest assured I shall text to Twitter at the first opportunity.

And an update:

Apparently the paparazzi have responded to Alagna's withdrawl from Aida in full-commando mode, and are currently stalking the tenor outside of his super-luxury Milan hotel, patiently waiting to pounce on the delinquent tenor once he leaves his room to get ice from the vending machine. (just kidding...we don't really "do" ice-vending machines in Italy) ;p Anyway, I'm sure we'll have some entertaining "official statements" by tomorrow...

And from Giorgia, complete with an artist's impression of how it may have happened.

Update: Giorgia has kindly emailed an English translation of Signor Lasagne's hissy fit...

Juan Diego Florez

A thoroughly enjoyable evening. What a gorgeous singer!

He came on the stage looking a bit nervous and started by addressing the audience explaining that he had cancelled a concert in New York last week, but he couldn't let us down; however he wasn't feeling 100%, so he was changing the programme slightly, and would have a cup of tea on a table next to him.

And he started to sing - all arias and songs were accompanied by Vincenzo Scalera on piano (who played all the right notes). Programme below the fold.

Oh boy, did he sing! If he hadn't warned us about his cold, or if I hadn't already known about the cancelled New York concert, I wonder whether I would have noticed. I did notice a few examples where the sound was less than perfectly shaped and filled; in the Rossini L'Esule it was particularly noticeable. But for the main part, it was like "he sings like this with a cold; what's he like without?"

He has a very different voice and sings very different repertory from the type of tenors I usually favour. If you don't know his voice it is difficult to describe relative to a Verdi/Puccini tenor, and quite quite different from an "English tenor". Sometimes you can kid yourself into thinking 'this isn't a particularly masculine sound' but that's silly, it most definitely is - he is a tenore di grazia. Most of the interesting and thrilling vocal colour is towards the top of the range. There is a very distinctive sound towards the top, especially when he's pushing the volume. It's not to everybody's taste but I love it, mainly. There were one or two occasions where it sounded a bit squeaky or shrill.

But it's not just about high notes, indeed I am not a high note freak*. What is just as thrilling is the flexibility and agility in negotiating brilliant runs of very rapid notes, with trills etc in florid passages. Apparently, no one ever comes away from an opera or concert lamenting that they missed the tenor's low notes, but I would definitely say - perhaps exacerbated by the cold - his low notes are not great...

However, it is hardly fair to dwell on notes here and there, when the overall performance was excellent. He is assisted by exceptional good looks, which no photo does justice to. He is lithe and moves well. He is not an exuberant performer and is tempting to think of him as a bit cold, but he is very expressive in subtle ways. A very naturalistic style of acting: the occasional hand gesture, or flicker of expression across the face, more expression with his body.  Giving the impression that he's feeling rather than thinking the emotions and their physical response.

I was not over-familiar with the programme, and to my surprise I greatly enjoyed the Rossini. I am not over fond of Rossini, a couple of arias and overtures apart (admittedly I have not much made effort to familiarise myself with him) but I did love the execution of these songs and suspect I shall end up buying the Rossini Arias CD I have been avoiding because it's Rossini.

I thought the Mozart was fine, if nothing special. I was not sure about the Il mio tesoro. I've become a bit obsessed about this aria. I like it to be sung with balls, even though most tenors prefer to reflect the wimpish character in their singing. This wasn't ballsy but nor was it wimpish.

I thought the Latino pop songs were nice and delightfully sung, but they left me  a little indifferent. Before the encore, the highlight was the Donizetti Linda, si ritirò, which was just gorgeous, and brought the concert to an end on a high, and the audience into enthusiastic applause. I'm afraid Faye and I were screaming a bit like fan girls. We were sat on the front row of the block with nothing really between us and the stage and his passage to back stage. As we screamed at him he twice gave us an amused-bemused glance. She had come down after the interval to sit in the spare seat next to me after unfortunately finding herself next to the Notorious Soap-Dodger for the second week running.

After a uncertainty-causing delay he came back and said he would sing Una furtiva lagrima. He sang it gorgeously. The pianist struck up a few notes and a buzz went round the audience. Ooh I said, he's singing my song! His one concession to the heavier Verdi rep La donna è mobile. And he sang that gorgeously too, hanging onto that final note for seemingly ever, bringing the audience to its feet in a roar of approval. Then he disappeared,  perhaps not to return. Some audience members were getting ready to leave - and he came back. He gave the impression of not really being sure what to sing, and there was considerable muttering in the centre block. Someone called out "Ah mes amis...?" Casually he dismissed this,saying he'd be singing it at Covent Garden. He conferred with his pianist, they flicked through some music. He turned back to the audience and said "Okay, I'll do the end of Ah mes amis..." to great cheers. So he  played the closing phrase on the piano. Ha, ha very funny. But he obliged and finished off in style with the final section of Ah mes amis from La fille du regiment. This is a very special aria because it contains the legendary nine High Cs which most tenors don't even attempt outside their shower. One of those ultimate tests. And it is fabulous to hear, even for non-high-note-freaks such as me. Cue more adulatory screaming!

Afterwards, he did the obligatory signing session. Just as I had texted off to Twitter that all my friends had disappeared, I spotted Caro and we queued together. It was a fleeting encounter, reinforcing my belief that he is a shy and private person. I suspect that it was a bit of an ordeal for him, but much appreciated by fans such as myself.

Before the concert started there were a couple of amusing announcements, the first being  "Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and girls, Fairy BowBells is on her way," then a few minutes later, I missed but was informed that there was a request not to take photos because it scares the animals and fairies. Dick Whittington was playing in panto in the Barbican Theatre...

* no surprise there...

Habanera 78

Interesting clip, as are many more posted by this user. Basically we get the audio of a 78 coupled with a videoof the disc playing. Watching this, it suddenly struck me that I have quite forgotten the mechanics of a record player. I know that there is one long groove in a spiral, so the needle sits in the groover, and as it goes down the line, it gets closer to the centre of the disc, thus making the radius shorter. I spent nearly thirty years of my life playing records: 78s (many of which were at speeds between 70 and 85...), 33s and 45s, and I never pondered this apparent contradiction.

Geraldine Farrar's fans were known as Gerry Flappers

Another audio clip, this time with some tenor by name of Caruso...

This almost sounds gorgeous, 'almost' because of the inadequacies of the recording (1908) exaggerated by YouTube/my lappy speakers.

Sunday night

I went out last night. I love it when you've stood at Stockwell for nearly 37 minutes, and are suddenly building up hope, what with the Dot Matrix indicator saying "Edgware via Bank 1" to see a scrolling marquee announcing "Please avoid the Northern Line due to severe delays. Tickets accepted on local buses..." It poses a real dilemma. Do I get this train coming, and live in fear of there being no connecting service at Kennington, or do I follow instructions and get the bus, even though there's a perfectly adequate Victoria Line running just yards behind me. I worked out my strategy. Fortunately, a Charing X train turned up immediately at Kennington. Phew!

There's a screen at Brixton that tells you when there are delays on lines. It's super-douper 21st century state of the art, quite possibly up-to-the-minute, centrally controlled and widely distributed piece of information. But like everyone else, I prefer the intermediate tech of the colour coded whiteboard and its enigmatic messages - Passenger Incident, Faulty Train, Driver's Teabreak. I made the last one up.

I met up with my friends and we proceeded to enjoy the English National Opera's Gala in aid of the ENO Pension Fund. Two, maybe three, world-class singers, plus an impressive array of has-beens, also-rans and wannabes. Not to mention an illustrious line-up of no-shows. Perhaps I shall write more at length, but I'm not really sure what, other than "it was enjoyable; the Gilbert and Sullivan was terminably naff; I really can do without 'Opera in English';". Highlights - Simon "Shirtless" Keenlyside opened up with something from Pagliacci before, presumably, pulling on his leathers, mounting his motorbike and speeding off into the sunset up the M4; the party from Traviata - okay the bullfight scene was a bit contrived and English but it all came together. The soprano, Linda Richardson, was rather lovely, and by supreme serendipity I had just hours previously booked a fun Raymond Gubbay Opera Gala at the Barbican, with her in the line-up, so that's good! The tenor was Wynne Evans. Not top drawer but definitely worth a mention of praise.

The highlight and the lowlight managed to combine in one ensemble, the Soave sia Il vento (from Cosi) where the mezzo manage to be so totally off pitch it was astounding, and then suddenly, this gorgeous baritone comes out shiningly sublime in that wonderful phrase (much more gorgeous than on the not-to-be-sniffed-at recording I have indoors - the Karl Böhm set, where Walter Berry is the Don Alfonso). The baritone in question was the lovely Gerald Finley, taking this on at short notice after Sir Thomas "Don Alfonso" Allen cancelled. It was one of those moments-to-be-cherished that make all the indifferent and mediocre nights out well worth it. So when Tom retires, or retires Don Alfonso, will Gerald be stepping in?

Afterwards, it being a fund-raiser a whole collection of celebrity charity muggers posed with collecting buckets. It's on occasions like this that you do really start to wonder about the Great British Public. Michael Portillo had been specifically thanked from the stage for heading up the committee. As we were going down the stairs, I overheard this woman saying "I wonder if Michael Portillo's going to be there with collecting bucket". One of her friends pointed out that he was actually very visible near the front door with a preposterously bright blue shirt and brilliant tie. Later he was seen with collecting bucket, so this woman - would you believe it -, to the obvious disdain of her friends, actually went and put her money in Portillo's bucket, and was rewarded (?) with an Ooze of Portillo-esque charm. Later, when this same woman was leaving the pub, she spotted the selfsame Portillo crossing over towards Trafalgar Square.

Some of us, with long memories, shudder.

One thing I can't understand about the Northern Line. why is it, even in the evenings, even on a Sunday evening, there are more City trains than West End trains. It makes sense during the day, but the City's almost dead at night at weekends, and it's a pain waiting for a Charing X train that turns up packed to the rafters, and then having to change at Kennington.

Get voting

Early and often...

The Classic FM Gramophone Awards 2006

Is Canadian Gerald Finley in danger of being taken for granted? His fame does not begin to approach that of the other great bass-baritone of the day, Bryn Terfel. But again and again Finley delivers. It was no small task to take on the memory of Benjamin Luxon's classic 1982 Stanford sea songs but his new version is a triumph. Finley's laser-like precision and swashbuckling swagger (though he doesn't neglect the quieter songs) confirmed that not only is he a marvellous artist but he has as much star quality as anyone. His recent disc of Ives songs had Gramophone's critic remarking that “if he is not by this time universally recognised as a singer of the front rank, this should leave no doubt of it”.

Except that he's not a bass-baritone...

Elisabeth Schwarzkopf RIP

Soprano Elisabeth Schwarzkopf dies, aged 90

Aged 90 makes it dificult for me to grieve. And there is that difficult Nazi past. And every UK obituary will mention she

entered British folklore when, asked to appear on Desert Island Discs, she chose eight of her own recordings.

A great great singer 'arguably the greatest soprano of the postwar years' says the Guardian. Difficult to argue against. I do feel that sopranos are dropping like flies - in the past year or so we've lost Renata Tebaldi, Victoria de los Angeles and Birgit Nillson.

I shall have to decide what to play in tribute.

The increasingly dumbed-down BBC website carries nothing but does have some gossip about some forgotten pop star. shrug

Update: The BBC manages to put the story up only two hours after the Guardian; at the time I read, it's the fourth most read story - Soprano Schwarzkopf dies aged 90

Bryn at Kenwood

This happened a couple of weeks ago and I have been suffering RoundTuit on the writing-up side of stuff. I took fifteen pictures of the concert and a dozen of the fireworks, so they should appear in about a couple of weeks time. I currently have 80 unprocessed before I get to those - you'll know the time is approachingwhen you see the ones appearing which I took as we walked three times around Hampstead Heath looking for Kenwood. I know Hampstead is supposed to be a bit of countryside in the middle of London, but the lack of signage and maps is a pain - at the end of the day it's just a public part in an Inner London Borough and, thus, should have signs...!

Eventually we found the Kenwood Estate; even then it wasn't very clear where the concert venue was; even then it wasn't entirely clear where the stage was...I know I know, it's a long established venue; my father went to concerts there when my grandparents lived in Belsize Park (and they retired to Ireland in 1959 - my grandfather packing it all in weeks before a certain M. Thatcher became his minister...! I always digress...), but I'm afraid the ability to find the place doesn't come implanted in DNA.

Once we got there we discovered it to be an excellent venue in very many ways. Lots of freebies going. Faye said something later about free apples; Jimmy and I took a certain amount of pleasure in free sherry. We had feared that the catering would have been typical outdoors concert - rancid burgers - but turns out it was Marks and Sparks doing their picnic specials. We were sitting in the premium deckchairs; the cheap seats consisted of bring your own blanket and sit on the ground.

The stage was on an island in the lake; we were safely on shore. Jimmy was hoping that the more ardent Brynettes might make an attempt to storm the stage, sadly no such attempt was made.

We were inflicted with the most egregious Classic FM-lite arseholes as immediate seat mates. It would have been possible to have moved seats but I'm always scared of doing that in case you end up with even worse!

The concert started with the Stella Artois music incorrectly billed as the Overture to some foreign thing called La forza del destino, as the middlenglanders in front of us pointed out to each other; they swayed their deckchairs to the waltz from Carousel, which would have been fine if they had been in a discrete group, but I'm sure it must affected everyone else in their row. Needless to say, they talked through all the quiet bits, pointing out aeroplanes that flew over - hello, this is a big city, we have 'planes. Get over it! In Meditation from Thais , played by Chloe Hanslip - she could have "Not as Annoying as Catrin Finch" as her marketing slogan - there is a pause just before the end. Anybody who actually knows the piece will know that; those that have just clippets on Clas-smugFM applaud at the pause...

The talking couple behind (also Stella Artois connoisseurs) got up to go immediately the concert finished, thus missing the encores.

But my favourites were the the two women just over my right shoulder who were yelling "Bryn, Bryn," like Groupies, and when he announced there would be encores "Something Welsh, something Welsh", when he announced Suo Gan cheered like maniacs. And then clapped before the music finished, obviously not quite as knowledgeable fans as they wanted us to think!

But you know I love a good moan; besides, the more I blog about the ignorant notice-me behaviour of the smugly ignorant the more sustainable will be my insanity plea when charged with Murder in the Concert Hall!

But apart from the ignorant twunts, the concert was really really enjoyable. I would have wished for Bryn to do more operatic stuff and less crossover, but that's the way it does; the way it goes with all of them. It's like opera singers have this deadly addiction to crossover, like they see a microphone and a sound system, and they're like a child in a chocolate factory...That having been said, it kind of sorts the men from the boys. Bryn has a fabulous voice, which made he crossovery bits bearable, indeed I'll Walk Beside You was one of the highlights. I could imagine that with one of those pretend, crossover popera singers, it would be unbearable.

But that's the point of a concert like this: to hear a great singer at his prime without having to sit through a boring opera, or extricate intellectuality and meaning, or pretend that you love the programme. It's for the voice.

There is something quite magic about sitting in an open venue on a balmy summer night, listening to good music performed well, often with the accompaniment of water-foul, but the trouble with open air venues is that the stage tends to be a long way from the audience, which rather reduces the artist-audience interplay. And of course, it goes without saying that proceeds were miked and amplified. I did find the amplification rather tinny especially for the high strings and woodwind. Very enjoyable.

Bryn

 

I have to be careful what i write here because I know there are a great number of Bryn fans out there. I have two albums by Bryn, one of cr***o**r and one of opera.

The imaginatively named Bryn actually isn't too crossover, in that it does contain some operatic arias, as well as traditional songs. I haven't got round yet to buying Simple Gifts. (Amazon seems to be offering a Double Album; I only have a single album...)

Bryn has a really fabulous voice and there are those who wonder why he has to waste it on cr***o**r. Actually, I like some of the crossover on here a great deal.  Especially Bugeilio'r Gwenith Gwyn.

And it's one of the opera ones that I really don't like. Namely, "Au fond du temple saint" and I think you can guess why. I have a wonderful recording by Jussi Bjoerling and Robert Merrill. Additionally, from time to time they show on the TV a performance of Bryn singing this with Roberto Alagna and it's wonderful. So on this record he has to sing it with Andrea Bocelli. Which is a real shame, because Bocelli's whiny bleat with its approximation to pitch just goes and spoils it. I don't understand why one of the world's greatest opera singers feels the need to sing an operatic duet with a mediocre pop singer.

The only explanation I can think of is that it makes him feel more secure because when he does it the contrast is almost embarrassing. Last year, Songs of Praise came from Brynfest and they showed Bryn singing a duet with Aled Jones. And Aled Jones is by no means a bad singer. Jimmy summed it up

Bryn's not even trying but he's outsinging the other bloke in every way. The other bloke's singing his heart out but it's a different class.

I mean, really,  Bryn has everything, when he makes the effort. In his voice alone: a delightful sound ,superb musicianship and the ability to colour the tone to convince the listener that he understands what he's singing - the words, the music, the emotion, the mood. Even things like Going Home, or  Home Sweet Home, which you've heard a  million times sung by all sorts of people - from his mouth it becomes something extra special.

And if you want to hear My Heart will Go On (or, rather Il Mio Cuore Va) performed superbly well, this is where you'll hear it.

  The other album I have of his is one of Handel Arias, which I got fairly soon after it was released in 1997. He hasn't made a big thing of Handel in his career, I don't think. A whole album of Handel arias is high risk gamble for the listener, in my opinion, because, basically, Handel was a churner-out of operas and oratorios for the commercial market. He wasn't striving for high art or the great truth in the way that, say, Wagner did later. His aim was to supply the paying public with entertainment, and it would be fair to say it was formulaic. If the formula works, that's a good thing, and for Handel, it definitely works. The downside is that a string of arias can be all a bit samey, and it doesn't really matter - Messiah aside - which work any particular aria is from. I'm knocking Handel. He wrote Messiah, for god's sake. And this album contains the gorgeous Where'er you walk (from Semele) and Ombra mai fu (from Serse) which are classics in their own right as well as three from Messiah.

What makes this album so enjoyable is pretty much what makes 'Bryn' also enjoyable - the wonderful voice, the musicality, the ability to colour the voice, and the sense that even though I'm not following the libretto, I know what emotions the aria is about because of the characterisation in his voice. The Scottish Chamber orchestra under Sir Charles Mackerras are lively with a lot of oomph