The main reason I booked this was to hear Deborah Voigt sing Wagner's Wiesendock songs and Liebestod from T&I. Beethoven's 3rd, Eroica, was a good bet, too.
Unusually, I managed to get a ticket in the Stalls. It's a different world down there from the Circle. And I was sat amongst some curious people. The Proms is definitely Dress Down, and I was in a fleece, combat-style jeans and trainers, and I got a few disdaining looks for those dressed for a cultivated Friday night out. On my right was a couple, male and female. As I did my usual faffing, the woman said loudly, obviously for my benefit, "It clearly states no food or drink in the hall." Here we go," I thought, "Just don't start! And if you're going to make personal remarks, say it my face." Sweetly, I said, "Most venues turn a blind eye to water." The man suggested that there could be vodka in there; I said there could, but an element of common sense prevails, if I don't have my water, sod's law says I'll cough incessantly and disturb everyone around me, but they have to draw the line at people bringing in their beer and fish-and-chips. The man then started going on about Prommers who spot empty seats and then grab for the interval, which is a bit 'off' when people have paid much more to sit than the �4 promming price - sneer. Back to the water, and when I mentioned that Covent Garden don't care if you take a glass bottle in, he suddenly perked up. Damn, how confusing it can be - one and the same person can actually attend Covent Garden, and also wear trainers, combat and fleece to a concert? Zzzzzzz. He then became animated about the previous night's Prom - The Miserly Knight/Gianni Schicchi. I explained I was going to go but didn't - something cropped up. the woman said she found it amazing that the singers managed to remember the Russian - Italian, yes, but Russian, no. I thought of saying "Yeah, I bet Sergei Leiferkus has tremendous problems with the Russian..." but decided instead to say "Yes, I saw it on the TV a few weeks ago, I know Sergei Leiferkus was in the cast, and I think it was the same last night."
"Oh we didn't really notice the cast," said the bloke. "Was it on the TV?" asked the man, "we must have missed it..." "BBC4," I explained, confident in being an ex-anti-digital-snob but now enjoying BBC4, Artsworld, Performance Channel (un po') and Interactive Olympics (and who has now booked an upgrade to Sky+...).
The woman in front was really strange. During the first piece, Hindemith's Concert Music for Strings and Brass, Opus 50, nothing special, did nothing to grab me..., she started caressing her man and saying "I love you" repeatedly but not tenderly, more at the urgent temp we use after a row or when trying desperately to reassure.
She was very strange, and I don't mean that nastily. She had a very pronounced Essex-Hertfordshire accent - think Posh Spice but more so. But what was so bizarre was she seemed to speak entirely on a monotone, with no inflection, no variation in pace, rhythm, or volume. Very strange...
After the Hindemith, Deborah Voigt appeared, to enthusiastic response, looking very good in a black dress. Perhaps more of an evening dress than a cocktail dress, but pretty close to a black cocktail dress, IMO. She sang Wagner's Wesendock Songs. I thought I didn't know them, but I certainly know Der Engel, and Tra�me is familiar from Tristan und Isolde. I thought she sang them well, but I didn't sense any great emotional input - sort of singing the phone book, but singing the phone book delightfully.
Then followed the (orchestral) prelude from Tristan und Isolde, which was...okay, followed by 'Liebestod', which was just marvellous. Gorgeousness. With a lot of Wagner I could happily listen to the orchestra part alone. This was the orchestral high point of the evening. However, the orchestra was nothing compared to Debbie, especially she soared into and caressed the high notes which rang out sweet and, well, beautiful (and I'm not even a 'high notes' fan...), and she was so obviously blissing out in the music, and thoroughly deserved the very enthusiastic and sustained applause.
I was slightly distracted for a split second during the Liebestod when a woman four rows in front turned to say something to her companion. I was startled; later I reflected with bemusement - what is so urgent that it can't wait just a few moments until the closing chord. And how can anybody possibly break off from listening to that sublime music? Perhaps the sound of an orchestra approaching orgasm is just too much for them, perhaps they are so afraid of their own repressed sexuality.
Incidentally, it is said that when Gustav Mahler conducted Tristan und Isolde he sustained an erection throughout and climaxed during the Liebestod. Now, I know back then, orchestras were all male, and the orchestral pit is dimly lit, but I'm not sure I would have wanted to be on the front row of the second violins. I mean, really...
As people stood up for the interval Monotone in front of me said, in a dead monotone to her husband "Five hours is a long time for an opera but for that...Even you'd enjoy it. I would love to see a performance of that opera, but there's none in the next year. Or The Meistersinger. It's a comedy but the music is lovely." I was fascinated that somebody with such an obvious love of and passion for music can have such a lack of music in her voice.
There was a trio behind me. They loudly declared that they don't go anywhere in the interval - perhaps they have become too familiar before with Chateau de Chunder from the Albert Hall's very own vineyards...One of the women asked "Who was that singing?" The man replied, "Deborah Voigt - she's been on the radio..." I recommended a CD - Wagner Love Duets, explaining it had Deborah singing the Love Duets from Siegfried and from Tristan und Isolde, and it's on EMI Classics. The man asked who's she singing with them. I said, "Plácido Domingo". The man smiled and wink and said "Say no more." I thought "Am I that obvious?"
During the interval, it seemed that half of everybody was desperately wapping, and the word soon spread round "Paula dropped out," accompanied by widespread disappointment.
I was a bit bored in the second half. You can't really go wrong with Beethoven, I thought.
Wrong! It was insipid. The strings were mushy. When I listen to string heavy orchestral music I want to hear the bowing of the strings. It's a bit worrying when you can barely see the bowing. Maybe I've fallen victim of the Campaign to Abolish Vibrato, and I like my notes defined, but this wasn't so much vibrato, but just one long elision. I'm not saying that I was writhing and groaning in pain in my seat, but it just didn't grab me.
And when it was finished Mrs Monotone said "I didn't like that. Did you like that? I thought I loved that piece. You know, I'm going to have to play it all weekend,
because I know I love it. That wasn't right."
The orchestra was Royal Phil under Daniele Gatti.
