When I was picking a hotel in Bournemouth, a swimming pool was a must, but what clinched it was the description of the restaurant. Not just their own marketing, not particularly the two AA rosettes which is not a system I understand, and not just Trip Advisor rating it number one restaurant in Bournemouth. But they all helped. And as I said, if it's not that great on the first night we'll just eat somewhere else on the second night. We went back for the second night.
It wasn't perfect, but it had some immense strengths. The serving staff were very polite and there were no mistakes, but I felt they were there for (successful) English language practice rather than because of a passion for food or customer service. Minor quibble, and didn't interfere with my enjoyment. Also, it is primarily a hotel restaurant, which seems to lend a different atmosphere than a standard restaurant or one that is only coincidentally attached to a hotel. I can't quite define it, but it seems marginally less relaxing.
On the first night I started with Crisp Brioche-Coated Goats Cheese with Apple Puree, Hazelnut & Watercress Salad. A really clever dish. I've had deep-fried goats cheese many times, but the use of brioche was inspired, adding a sweetness to what is normally savoury. And the salad was lovely, with the apple purée providing the traditional sweet offset to the cheese, itself offset by hazelnut.
My main course was Pan Seared Sea Bass Fillet with Nero Linguini, Bouillabaisse,and Brown Shrimps.
It's been a while since I had pasta as a casual accompaniment to a not-obviously-pasta dish: I think over-cooked gloopy tagliatelle in watery cheese sauce in Montmartre rather put me off.
Thankfully, Bournemouth rescued me! A nice piece of fish nicely cooked. The nero linguini was just right. To my surprise I enjoyed the broad beans. I've always hated them because of the inner shell, but double-podded, they were very nice. But the highlight was the Bouillabaisse. I'm not going to wade in and pretend to know anything about Bouillabaisse, but I've always thought to be basically a big fish soup, so I was confused. This was a richly flavoured, heavily reduced sauce and was the absolute highlight of the meal, a taste whose memory will remain for a long time.
My pudding was lemon posset and shortbread (see above). The shortbread was nice enough but not up to my own standards. The posset was very lemony. Overall, a great success!
Because we were so pleased with the restaurant, and because there wasn't anywhere immediately locally that presented as an alternative, we decided we might as well return the next night. I imagine if we had been staying longer than two nights, we would have wanted some variety, not least because every restaurant has its own distinctive style.
This time, I could not resist the starter that Jimmy had on the first night: Pan Seared Scallop Bouillabaisse Soup with Rouille, Parmesan & Croutons. Partly, I was fascinated by the ritual of service: first, the scallops placed in the centre of the bowl, and then the bouillabaisse spooned carefully around it, and, finally a selection of the three accompaniments were spooned in with a touch of panache. It was the same bouillabaisse as the previous night, so flavoursome, I was desperate for more. And yet, despite being so strong, it did not overpower the scallops.
For my main course I had the "Great British Dish" (of the day) - Poached Smoked Haddock fillet, with poached egg, herb pancake, with a Tarragon and dry vermouth sauce.
I think it was the least successful of the five dishes that I had at the restaurant. It was surprisingly bland considering its component ingredients. If my main course the previous night had been an 8++ or even a 9, this was probably a 7-. Far better than I've had in many places, but disappointing. I ate it without hesitation. And I was quite stuffed when I'd finished, so chose not to have a pudding. In fact, I was quite tired, so we took our wine back to our room and lay in bed watching TV. Which is a great advantage of a hotel restaurant!
Overall, I was very pleased with Blakes restaurant. I've had good and bad experiences in hotels; this was definitely one of the best. Not having tried any of the others, I'm in no position to judge whether it actually is Bournemouth's best restaurant, but I would certainly recommend it strongly.
It was a privilege and a pleasure to be at this concert last night. A privilege I paid quite a lot of money for, well twice quite a lot because I also got a ticket for Jimmy. Thankfully he really enjoyed it!
I approached the concert with high expectations. I am a great fan of Plácido Domingo, as I think you know. I knew instinctively that performing with Angela Gheorghiu was much more significant than him performing with one of the many talented protégées he normally has accompany him. With the greatest respect to someone like Virginia Tola, for example, I don't think there would have been many people there for her. Angela is different. I had quite forgotten quite how much I like her. I didn't manage to get tickets for her recent Tosca; she cancelled Adriana Lecouvreur the night I attended; I cancelled her Traviata after my encounter with the 'Sir John Tomlinson pothole' on Floral St. So it's actually two years since I have heard her, in Tosca.
I have tweeted quite a bit about the concert, which has (some) spontaneity, but makes it more difficult to write a narrative post. I don't, however, feel any attraction to tweeting while the concert is actually happening. Sorry, can't touch type on a touchscreen.
It was a bit of a surprise to realise that the concert had exceeded my expectations - considering how high they were.
I had guessed possibly 2/3 of the programme beforehand but that did not diminish my pleasure. I was anxious about the venue and anxious about my own high expectations - 'audience fright' I call it.
The opening number was Berlioz's Hungarian March, a pleasant enough piece, but serving no artistic purpose in this concert. I don't think I've ever been to a 'numbers' concert that hasn't started with some orchestral piece, to settle the audience, before the headline act.
Plácido walked onto stage without the slightest ostentation or attention seeking - then the audience noticed and greeted him rapturously. His first piece was O Souverain by Massenet. At the time I thought it beautiful, but in light of the rest of the evening it was not Plácido at his vocal best...warming up, relatively speaking! I was distracted by some interference or feedback of a whistling nature and hoped fervently that this wouldn't mar the whole evening. I didn't notice it again so it must have been snagged.
The format followed the familiar course he has used in numerous concerts with various female attendants - although I place Angela above being a 'female attendant'! She was on next to sing Song to the Moon by Dvorak, which was utterly delightful. I remembered why I like her voice so much: it sounds no natural and unforced. She claims that her voice was perfectly formed by the time she went to Conservatoire at 18. It still combines a youthful purity with a mature steeliness. I know the aria passably well - I'm not score-perfect nor had a score in front of me - and I found her rendition to be beautiful. I was gritting my teeth waiting for a typical soprano squawk or screech, but it didn't come, and I remembered that Angela doesn't. And didn't, all night.
I have proceeded through this blogpost writing a paragraph on every number that was performed, but I have deleted most of what was written. I was torn between 'I thoroughly enjoyed this/it has a nice tune' - which conveys nothing, and nit-picking at details in the margin, which is a sure way to destroy the magic of a thoroughly enjoyable evening, and entirely misses the point.
This wasn't an intimate recital at Wigmore Hall or even part of the Barbican's Great Performers' series. It was showbiz for the sake of entertainment, and a large audience left very happy, buzzing, using words like 'amazing' at the end of a wonderful evening. Sure, some subtleties may have been lost; sure, that performance of that particular aria may not stand comparison with another arbitrarily chosen performance, but so what? Two superbly good performers at the top of their profession, in fine form reaching out to the audience, singing gloriously, taking adrenaline from the audience and making people happy.
When Plácido sang Wintersturme I was transported to another world. Gia nella notte densa was moving, and it was good to hear Plácido sing it with someone who is as good as the various Desdemonas I have on CD and DVD. It surprised me that there was a relative absence of stage chemistry between them, which was also apparent after the interval when they sang Favella il doge...Figlia, a tal nome. This was musically the highlight for me, making me wonder what it would be like to see them together in these roles on stage. This was when it was most apparent he was holding back so as not to drown her out - she has a beautiful and often penetrating voice, but she isn't loud. (I prefer beautiful to loud). I was also struck at how much he acts with his face, or even just his eyes. And it is a duet I have come to love dearly.I asked the people sitting either side of me whether we could rewind and play it again.
The penultimate piece before the interval was the overture to Don Pasquale. A lovely piece but an odd choice. I'm not sure anyone would know it if they hadn't seen the opera. I've seen it several times, and can't say I know the overture, though it pre-empts Com'è gentil, possibly my favourite tenor-aria-that-Plácido-hasn't-recorded, and lots of grand, lush orchestration which makes me love Donizetti.
After the Simon Boccanegra, we moved onto Musical Theatre. Angela sang I Could Have Danced All Night. A brave choice, in London. Musically and vocally she was stupendous, but her pronunciation was...well, my friend invoked Prof. Higgins and his pronunciation lessons. Plácido sang The Impossible Dream from Man of La Mancha, one of the few numbers I didn't predict might be on the programme. That was an unexpected and delightful bonus!
The orchestra played the overture from Candide, which has featured previously at a Plácido concert, and also a similar style Bryn Terfel concert I went to a few years back. It's a pleasant enough piece but I don't feel I ever need to hear it again.
I was so pleased they sung Tonight from West Side Story, a big favourite of mine; when Plácido sung Sleep well and when you dream Dream of me Tonight I took that as an order!
Angela sung La Seceris by Tiberiu Brediceanu, a singularly forgettable tune that was never really going anywhere. But she sang it with such drama and passion I could forgive her for inflicting this on us, and making me remember how uncomfortable my seat was.
The inevitable zarzuela included Plácido singing Sorozabal's Amor, vida di mi vida, and then the orchestra played the Intermedio from La boda de Luis Alonso, which we didn't know, but really liked. The concert 'proper' as advertised in the programme, finished with Me llamabas, Rafaeliyo from Penella's El gato Montés, which is actually opera, which I always forget, thinking it's zarzuela. Plácido played the role of a torero with a flourish and panache.
Sustained applause marked the end of the pieces that were listed in the concert programme (£10, it cost). I do hope nobody was daft enough to leave at that point, because the concert was only 2/3 over. I read there were 7 encores, but I can only remember Plácido singing No puede ser, Besame mucho and Granada; Angela singing O mio babbino caro and another Romanian song, The Tree, which she dedicated to her husband Roberto Alagna, who was highly visible in the audience - he stood next to Jimmy twice, for quite a long time. They finished with Lippen Schweigen - Plácido told us to sing, because they were going home. He strolled off the stage with one of the cellists (who was obliged to abandon her cello) - she looked terrified! My friend reported she saw Marta scurrying to the door that led backstage. Angela grabbed the leader of the orchestra and escorted him off, then several more of the orchestra decided to waltz off arm in arm!
Update: The 7th, forgotten, encore piece was Angela singing Lacuona's Siboney. Enjoyable musically, but the boogying with her back to the audience doesn't need repeating
Plácido's 3 encore pieces were the icing on the cake for me. I love him singing the heavy, dramatic emotional opera roles, but I also loves it when he relaxes and sing the more popular stuff (I know No puede ser is from zarzuela but he treats it as a party piece). I don't even know why I like Besame mucho, because, listen to the orchestra, it's a cheesy disco song played by a symphony orchestra. But I love the way he sings it, alternatively purring and belting.
I shouldn't be surprised by how much I enjoy a performance by Plácido and yet every time he manages both to surprise and amaze me. I always the frisson of gazing on him and thinking - here is someone I hero worship and there he is, just a few feet from me; this man is such a legend and yet, here I am, listening to and watching him perform.
Earlier in the week I had watched two interviews - online with ITV London Tonight and on TV with BBC Breakfast. Even though I last saw him only a month ago I was actually quite shocked by how old he looked. And yet, on stage, it didn't even cross my mind, until well into the second half when I remembered that he is 70, but that seemed immaterial, just a number, considering how lithe and energetic he was on stage. Yes, dark shadows around the eyes, and crumpled looking, but yes, I have seen myself in the mirror, so I should say no more! He seems to have a lost a bit of weight, so while he is still cuddly looking, he looks a lot leaner and trimmer. (Although I am comparing with when he was wearing the most unflattering suit in Il Postino)
I shouldn't even remark on the fact that his voice sounds so amazing for his age, because it does, but that is beside the point. I didn't hear him live when he was, say, in his forties, but if he had given a performance like that at 40, I am sure people would have been raving at what a wonderful singer he is with that rich caressing voice.
I can't capture the magic of the evening in words, and already the detailed memories are fading away. I wish it had been filmed (other than just for projecting on the arena screens).
More photos in my Performance album, which loads in reverse order
Besame mucho (includes audience sing along...) At 1:07 is the point where Plácido gazed directly into my eyes!
In order to capture them all a) in one post and b) not interspersed with other matters. Oh, and to correct typos and unautocorrect!
Roberto Alagna is here. He was stood *right* next to Jimmy
First half of concert extremely good. Highlight Wintersturme or Gia nella notte densa. Or Song to the Moon.
For those who need to know Ange's dress looks like purple rubber covered in gold & silver sequins. I had Xmas wrapping paper like it.
Figure hugging like a Beijing Olympic swimming suit. Mermaid's tail. Maybe Angela thought she was at Aquatics Centre, not Dome.
Home from the *best* concert I have ever attended, notwithstanding the world's most uncomfortable chairs
Angela Gheorghiu's second dress was conceptual. Imagine taking a white sheet & daubing it with broad brush-strokes of brown & pale blue paint...elasticate the waist, & neckline so it can handily be conventional sleeves or an off-the-shoulder number. Team it with no bra...Attach an elasticated mahogany sequinned waistband and similar cuffs of 30cm depth. Sew on white buttons to the waistband and cuffs......ensure that the overall effect is akin to a shift dress women of our age may wear at beach - or Beach Volleyball at Horseguards?
3rd dress I initially thought was leopard print, but Jimmy confidently told me was crocodile skin. Much the same mermaid shape as Dress1......but it was backless except for a couple of restraining straps; a big slit in the front, & it made her look all hips & bum, unfortunate......when she was boogying, stooped, with her back to the audience during Lacuona's Siboney. I'm afraid my companions & I sniggered.
Plácido Domingo was dressed his characteristic all black suit & shirt (2 buttons undone) & black cummerbund
But jokes about the dresses aside, Angela Gheorghiu was *fabulous*. Really amazing voice, & totally threw herself into the performance
She was exceptional in Song to the Moon; her Ebben ne andro lontana was lovely, and her O mio babbino caro was touching
Being Ange, she sang two Romanian folk songs, one, The Tree, dedicated to Roberto. Boring songs, but she delivered a formidable performance
Her I Could Have Danced All Night was...idiomatic (Prof. Higgins would have some work to do on that pronounciation) but musically spot on
She was touching as Amelia in the Boccanegra Father-Daughter recognition duet. I wasn't so sure of her in Gia nella notte densa...
...but I was amused by how she was taking the applause at the end as if it's from an opera called 'Desdemona'
I just think she has an amazing voice. Absolutely solid throughout the range. Jimmy was bowled over (he's heard her in La Rondine & Tosca)
Plácido was as I expected him to be, & yet, more so. I shall reserve writing my impressions until tomorrow when I shall blog, at length!
I've mentioned some of the numbers he sang. The encores included No puede ser, Granada, Besame mucho & Lippen schweigen...
I shall go to bed with 'Goodnight, goodnight, sleep well and when you dream, dream of...Besame mucho" in my ears...
He also sang The Impossible Dream, which I wouldn't have predicted to be on the programme; I enjoyed it tremedously...
Woman next to me on Tube remarked on how it was great how he restrained his voice not to drown out Ange, but he let rip when singing solo
He's very smart the way he moves around stage. Clever to switch between microphones, so each half of the arena gets a good view alternately
He actually doesn't otherwise move a great deal but gives the impression of being very physically involved & active......during the closing duet from El Gato Montes he was playing a convincing torero. Sadly, he did no falling to the floor
We were lucky to be in the 4th row of front central block, so excellent view, & we could basically ignore the amplification. Amazing night!
At the very end, Plácido made one of the cellists abandon her instrument & walk off stage on his arm. She looked...daunted!
And Ange grabbed the orchestra leader (she does rather copy Plácido's unique style...!)
Brilliant seeing so many superlatives in my Tweetdeck 'Plácido Domingo' column. That, & the Tube, makes me think everyone had a good time!
As well as seeing Roberto Alagna (Angela Gheorghiu's husband), we also saw Plácido's wife, Marta, & youngest son, Alvaro.
Woman in front spent all night taking rubbish photos on her phone & gave every sign of not listening to the music!
I forgot to mention Angela's hair. In the 1st half it was Callas-meets-Amy tribute. After the interval it was a one-sided Rebekah tribute......then she brushed it out so it hung freely & straight
I slept very soundly last night *and* dreamed that Plácido Domingo was singing Besame Mucho just a few feet away from me...
...or was it a dream?
Something that *really* annoys me about Plácido - during applause he turns round to thank the orchestra so I have a lot of back view photos!
I wasn't really sure what to make of this when I booked it. I looked at the cast:
Debbie Voigt - although she features on what is probably my most favourite CD,Wagner: Love Duets I had read some fairly negative reports about her Tosca.
Marcello Giordani - I've never heard him live but what I've heard broadcast has not impressed me;
Bryn Terfel - well, it would be just my luck for him to cancel, he has a bit of a reputation
Well, a couple of weeks back Debbie was announced as indisposed, to be replaced, for a couple of performances by Nelly Miricioiuandfor most,including Tuesday's which I was due to attend, by Angela Gheorghiu(just to complicate matters, I'm writing this on Thursday night; Thursday's performance has Amanda Echalez).
On Monday we received an emailinforming us that Marcello Giordani was indisposed and was being replaced, confusingly, by Massimo Giordano.
So, Tosca!One of my favourite operas. In so many ways, the epitome of Grand Opera. I often think the music is exactly what you expect operatic music to be like if you don't know much about opera.
It's in three acts, and none of them is over long; the settings are such that it requires an interval between each of them . And yet it's less than three hours in total, including two half-hour intervals.
It has three singers of equal prominence - tenor, baritone, and soprano. There are several other comprimario roles which add colour, but it isn't one of those annoying works like Ballo, Cyrano or Fanciulla where there are lots of indistinguishable unimportant men hanging around.
All three principals die nasty deaths and it ain't actually over until the thin lady sings, then jumps off the battlements.
Last week I saw L'amour de loin and commented that it would benefit from tighter, maybe brutal editing. Tosca is just perfect, never any sense of any of the music being superfluous or inserted for its own sake. No unnecessary repetition, but appropriate use of quotation.
When I first saw this production three years ago, I felt disappointed that they had just replaced the famous old (1964) Zefferelli production with something equally traditional. But now I realise that it was a decision driven by the fact that the Zefferelli sets were falling apart, I feel more relaxed about it. I don't think it's a great production but it serves the work well, and with the right singing actors it can be very entertaining. I have now seen it five times and on each occasions I have had rather mediocre seats. Sigh.
So, how did the principals shape up?
Massimo Giordano entered and definitely looked the part. I actually had a slight double-take because he's a similar build and colouring to Jonas Kaufmann whom I had seen twice in this last year.
I remembered my golden rule about Mr Stand-In - he's going to take time to acclimatise to the house etc. I was not overly impressed by Recondita armonia. It was a bit dull and I detected a beat, a fast vibrato at the bottom of the range. But I decided that, in the circumstances, that he was good enough, I wasn't going to spend the evening wincing.
The next exciting bit was the arrival of Tosca "Mario Mario"; I was so thrilled to see Angela Gheorghiu, a very starry Ms Stand-In Woman, I almost applauded her entrance. LOL!
And then, suddenly, there was a moment in the duet between the two of them, when Massimo just let out Ah! m'avvinci nei tuoi lacci mia sirena and I thought, yeah, he's going to be fine! And from then on, I loved him.
He moved well round stage, seemed at ease in the (presumably unfamiliar) production, and had a pretty good chemistry with Angela. His Vittoria, Vittoria was of a high standard; just because it was not as show-stopping as Jonas's last year doesn't mean anything - we should never let the truly excellent be the enemy of the very good. And his E lucevan le stelle was a thing of beauty, a real sensitive heart-felt interpretation, good variety of dynamics, excellent breath control. All in all a very satisfactory performance, well worthy of the loud acclaim he received at the curtain call (he beat his hand against his heart to indicate he had been nervous!). I commented afterwards to friends that I would love to catch him in something more lyrical, or in that again in 3-5 years. Hopefully we will see more of him in the future at the Garden.I do so love the role of Cavaradossi, not just musically, but his character and his sexiness, so I am very hard to please in this role. But just because I have a clear idea of my ideal Cavaradossi doesn't stop me enjoying someone else who is capable of understanding, interpreting and projecting this lovely character.
It was wonderful to see Angela Gheorghiu. I think the role suits her down to the ground. I hadn't been entirely convinced three years ago, but I thought it was a beautiful, passionate and compelling portrayal. I have been known to nominate Vissi d'arte as a cut I'd like to see, but she was stunning, held my attention in the way it never has been before in that aria, which tends to hold the action up for me. One of those special moments that will stay with me.
And then there was Scarpia. Bryn Terfel. He was nasty. He dripped evil from every pore. Sometimes it was just the little details: descending the stairs in preparation for the Te Deum, he paused to look at a fading mural on the staircase, and ran his hand against the figure of a naked woman, right in her lady bits. Or when he sang La pvera mia cena fu interrotta afterwe had all seen theconsequences of Cavaradossi's torture. Throughout, he was a dramatic tour de force, and vocally just as you expect Scarpia to be.
I can't really fault the orchestral playing. If I wasless familiar with the work I would have been perfectly satisfied with the conducting of Jacques Lacombe; being so intimate with it, I found it to be a bit lacking in frissonatsome crucial moments; especially in Act 1, when the soprano-tenor duet was not orgasmic, and the Te Deum, which I expect to swell in an outpouring that causes electricity (but I did get goose pimples). Nevertheless, overall, I did get a sense of intimacy and, at times, claustrophobia, which, I think, served the piece well.
Because of where I was sitting, I didn't do curtain call photos, but I did do afters:
Bit of a strange angle, but he is like fourteen inches or something taller than me!
And I'd like to say hello to Anna from Lodz, with whom I was chatting on the terrace (I hope I have spelt your name right!). Sadly, she is a Debbie Voigt fan, so was disppointed to miss Debbie. Also hello to Jane, Anna's London friend.
So, taken overall, a thoroughly enjoyable evening, starting with a pleasant dinner with friends, which had been preceded by chatting with more friends. A good atmosphere in the House, very little inappropriate clapping (in contrast, say, to last year, when ignorami had started clapping Trionfal, di nova speme l'anima freme in celestial crescente ardor;) or three years ago when Marcelo Alvarez's glorious E lucevan was prematurely interrupted by some dolt shouting 'Bravo'. There was premature clapping at the end of Act II so the final chord, which completes the cadence, was inaudible. It may not matter to some people, but for me, an unfinished cadence is as frustrating as a shag without a climax.
And we had great fun laughing at some fairly outrageous outfits. I won't mention specifics, because it would be just my luck to be slagging off the favourite frock of a regular lurking reader! All I can say is, just because it's fashionable, looked good on the hanger and cost a fortune, doesn't remove the necessity of looking critically in the mirror and asking a) is it really me and b) do I risk looking ridiculous.
After the final performance of Cyrano de Bergerac, I found myself irresistibly drawn to Floral Street for one last chance to say hello to Plácido...and bye - for now. He'll be back, in the autumn of next year, singing Siegmund in Die Walküre, as part of the Ring Cycle, for which Ticket Acquisition Stress Syndrome (TASS) is already developing. I was not alone on Floral Street; to test out the setting on my camera, I took random shot into the crowd (which I have made deliberately fuzzy)
As you can see I didn't have a great view of the Stage Door, but at one point a woman emerged who looked remarkably like Angela Gheorghiu, and was greeted warmly by those of the crowd nearer to the door. She responded with friendly greetings in a heavy accent that sounded like Angela Gheorghiu. So I expect it was her, as she opens as Tosca shortly, but I can't be certain.
Raffe was with me and has a different tale to tell, which she may care to share in the comments box once she is returned to and settled in the Frozen North (no pressure...!)
I did have to wait a long time, but, thankfully, the weather was remarkably dry. Eventually, it became clear that Plácido was doing what he did on Wednesday - sit behind the desk inside the Stage Door to sign autographs and so on, which is eminently sensible, as I said in regard to Wednesday. The security chap told us firmly to form an orderly queue on one side of the Stage Door, and because that was at the other side from where I was standing, I ended up near the back of the queue. Which is no bad thing, especially considering that the security man had emphasised that there was plenty of time, we would all get to see him.
Eventually my turn arrived, and I just asked him if I could take one last photo, and I thanked him for everything. What a wonderful performer! What a wonderful man! What a wonderful past few weeks! And I do rather like this photo!
That was not my only meeting with him yesterday.
Jimmy and I had gone into town fairly early and had braved the inclement weather to trudge up and down Neal Street searching for a new pair of shoes for me*. We then treated ourselves with a rather delicious and superbly Value For Money meal at Porters on Henrietta Street. I had white onion and cider soup, and the luxury seafood pie, both served attractively and hot in filling portions, and tasty, obviously made with excellent quality ingredients, in a pleasant and relaxed environment.
We made our way over to Floral Street; Jimmy decided that he would retire to the Nag's Head whilst I waited outside the Stage Door. I had calculated that as Plácido had previously arrived at ten past six for a half past seven performance, he would probably arrive at about twenty to six for a seven o'clock curtain. It was just about half past five when I took my position along Floral Street, closer to the Nag's Head than the Stage Door, hoping that the unexpected break in the unrelenting rain would last long enough.
And suddenly, there he was, magically appearing on Floral Street, looking as gorgeous as ever and greeting his fans as he walked along. He walked over to me, smiled at me and gazed into my eyes with a slight look of "You - again!" (but definitely not - oh no, not you again!) and shook my hand.
Having spent the previous two hours in a restaurant I was totally sloshed and thus I flung myself uncontrollably into his arms screaming "Take me, I'm yours."
Just kidding!
I was far from falling-over-slurring-my-words drunk, merely slightly lubricated to the point of shyness-and-inhibitions-slightly-relaxed.
As he turned away, tenderly I caressed his shoulder. He turned back to me; in my best-disappointed-little-girl voice I said longingly "I'm going to miss you..." Once again, he gazed into my eyes and said "Me, too!", making my heart go boom-boom-boom. Of course he is a total flirt, and also a total professional who treats all his fans with respect, but even knowing that, it was such a delightful encounter, and I can safely say with no hesitation that he most certainly did not glare at me! Oh no! I will remember that moment for the rest of my life...although all I really remember is once again being startled at how gorgeous he is up close.
When he was inside the Stage Door I rushed to join Jimmy in the pub, simultaneously tossing a red wine down my throat, gabbling incoherently to Jimmy and frantically texting Faye, whose initial response was "What are you doing getting drunk at this time of day?"
At the very end of the day, when Plácido was seeing the last few fans inside the Stage Door, a crowd was assembling outside Bertorelli's, probably to wave him goodbye. However, I had received a call from a somewhat angry Jimmy who had been forced to drink copious quantities of Hoegaarden in the White Lion - this time I had gone too far! (Diplomatically, I didn't do the 'oh, I held a gun to your head' gambit). So I had to dash away to pacify him, and we had a tense journey back to Brixton. On the escalators at Brixton, I said "So, if he had walked past the pub when you were in there, or coming out, you would have assaulted him?"
To which Jimmy replied "Of course not. I wouldn't do that - and especially not to him. I respect him too much."
But I still had to pay! Later on, when Jimmy offered to go downstairs and get a replacement bulb for the bedside lamp, I vampishly said "When you return, how do you want me?" His reply "Preferably not snoring." And when he did return, and had replaced the light-bulb, I seductively said "Please undress me!" His response "If you can't even undress yourself, you're too far gone!" Ah, domestic bliss in Gert Cottage...
* I use to be a a great buyer and collector of shoes, but nowadays I almost need dragging into a shop to get some
I'm never entirely sure about La bohème. When I did a review of a DVD I started off by saying "Let's start with suitably lowered expectations," and finished with "Madmusings - failing to 'get it', one opera at a time..."
Actually, not a great deal of change, there. I mentioned on a Newsgroup on Sunday evening that it is, at best my fifth favourite Puccini opera. I wouldn't like that claim to be overly scrutinised, but I definitely prefer Tosca, La Fanciulla del West, Manon Lescaut and even La Rondine.
Nevertheless, I decided to book up to see it at Covent Garden. I think my prime motivator was that Angela Gheorghiu was Mimi. I was really gutted to read that the scheduled Rodolfo, Yu Qiang Dai is indisposed for the run and is being replaced, mainly, by Tito Beltrán, and for two performances only, by Rolando Villazón. I know little or nothing about either Dai or Beltrán, but I really would have liked to see Rolando Villazón. I would be happy to hear him sing the phonebook. Sold out - Angela Gheorghiu does that. Ah well, I shall just have to satisfy myself in seeing Rolando (twice) in Rigoletto.
The production shown is nearly as old as me and older than some of the Principals on display. Safe, traditional, it works. Including the cast of millions in the second, Cafe Momus, Act.
Music - good. Storyline, all right. Characters, two-dimensional, but, hey, this is opera not Play for Today. I think I'm supposed to say, music great. But I can't bring myself to it. I was sat next to a chap in his late forties, who was with his son, a student, and was talking him through it. A little too much, I think. Didn't quite grasp the concept of shutting up when the orchestra was playing. Was convinced that the conductor was Antonio Pappano when the programme said it was Mark Elder (and it looked a lot more like Mark Elder than Antonio Pappano...). Asserted the tenor was Chinese - he looked very Chilean to me. But he summed it perfectly - all the great arias happen in Act 1 - Che gelida manina, Mi chiamano Mimi and O soave fanciulla - and it's worth going to anything with Angela Gheorghiu in it.
Although I have to say she sounded a bit below par, vocally. I wonder if she was being tacticle, because in the less interesting bits she sounded quite generic, but where it mattered those glorious gorgeous high notes were there in all their splendour, and, quite frankly, worth the price of the ticket alone. I wonder if she had vocal difficulties, she certainly seemed to be coughing a lot...
The tenor, Beltrán, was eminently forgettable. A whiny nasally voice, without the top notes required, and with, at times, a very vague approximation to pitch.
Most of the rest were perfectly adequate also-rans, although Angela Maria Blasi as Musetta was larger-than-life (over)-acting wise, and Jonathan Lemalu as Colline sang an eloquent Vecchia zimarra
But the star of the evening was Mariusz Kwiecien as Marcello, definitely to voice to watch out for again.
But musically, its largely a success. Making his Covent Garden debut, the young tenor Mariusz Kwiecien does sterling work as the painter Marcello he will no doubt be playing the lead very soon.
Hint to Jonathan Allen:
a) Do your homework
b) Mariusz Kwiecien is a baritone - the clue is, he sang Marcello, a baritone role. Actually the clue is in the programme you got, no doubt for free, along with your free Press Ticket (paid for by taxpayers, donors and the ticket-buying public...ligger!)
c) The lead is a soprano role. That means, er, woman.
And he gets paid for writing such rubbish? There are some pretty piss-poor showers calling themselves journalists, if you ask me...Chap sat next to me would have written a better review.
Angela Gheorghiu at the Royal Festival Hall, last night
(I'm already getting search requests for a review. Patience, folks...!)
Concert sold out, of course. Buzz of anticipation around the foyer, terrace and bars beforehand. A real superstar, appearing, one night only etc etc (apart from three nights in La bohème in June), promoting her new CD of Puccini arias.
Appearing with the Philharmonia, under the baton of Ion Marin. Programme in the extended entry.
It would be very naughty of me to say that the highlights of the evening for me were orchestral pieces. The Tchaikovsky is a piece I have known for very many years, and would have said that I knew well. I'm not sure if I have ever heard it performed live; if I have it was probably twenty or more years ago. I just loved it, feeling transported to another dimension.
I have a troublesome relationship with the Cav intermezzo. God knows how many different versions I have on various formats, in context, out of context, with words. And I never know before I listen whether I am going to love or hate it, and this bears no relationship to which version. Last night, was definitely a 'love' experience.
Now, onto the subject of the post - Diva Worship. Angela came out to tremendous applause, and performed her first number. Delightfully, of course. With perfect timing, as the final note died away, the first (of many) 'brava' was heard, from a box high on the right.
To be honest, I did not think very much of her performance in the first half. There is no doubt that she has a lovely voice, musical and sweet, light but with colour. But I felt that in the first half she was phoning in the performance. I think I'm supposed to mention what she was wearing - a simple black dress. Straight skirt. Spaghetti straps. I think. I'm not very good on remembering clothes.
In the second half she emerged wearing a flowery number with more diamante than a Pearly Queen. Very nice. She's an all hips and no boobs woman, with a prominent bone (between throat and 'cleavage') visible even from Row G of the Rear Stalls without binoculars.
The Salve Regina was, on the whole, very nice, but she seemed to get a bit lost about halfway through. The Un bel di vedremo was probably her best aria, when she displayed her beautiful voice to its maximum and actually seemed to feeling the role. During Chi il bel sogno I remembered how much I had enjoyed her in La Rondine, indeed how much I had enjoyed La Rondine. I may be the only person in the entire world who prefers La Rondine to Madama Butterfly, Turandot and La Boheme, indeed I may be the only person who has La Rondine as their second favourite Puccini Opera (after Tosca but before Fanciulla and Manon Lescaut). So shoot me...
Vissi d'arte was technically excellent, and beautiful, but bizarrely failed to engage me, to the extent that as it was nearing its end, I had a sudden distracting thought about some domestic trivia and even more bizarrely, "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow" from Annie flashed through my brain.
Applause and encores followed, always the time for the audience to let its hair down, clapping, cheering, brava-ing, and, of course, all the camera flashes going off. Ms Gheorghiu graciously obliged us with four or five encores. You know I'm rubbish at naming tunes, even songs, even when I know them perfectly well, but they did include Granada. A bad choice, I have to say. It's a tenor's song, and didn't sound right from a soprano, especially one only going through the motions of being involved. Musica was much better, this is a Romanian song, known to many because she sang it at Covent Garden's Gold and Silver Gala in 1996 (available on DVD and occasionally broadcast on Artsworld).
I thought it was very nice that she was obviously aware of that section of the audience in the cheap seats of the choir stalls, who spend the concert watching the backs of all but the conductor, and she graciously performed much of one encore facing the choir stalls, only turning round to the main auditorium at the end to let the money notes ring out and fill the space.
Afterwards she was doing a signing session. I was thinking of hanging around, not to get an autograph, I am not an autograph collector, but maybe to get close to get a photo. Instead, I sat down for a cigarette at the bar, and then wandered round the foyer people-watching. I'm sure she was there, I just didn't get to see her. And I could have been hanging around all night. The queue was enormous - three or four deep across the width of the Festival Hall foyer - and I suspect that many more people were hanging around, waiting to join the queue when it subsided. Some serious Diva Worship going on, possibly more queens on display than a Sunday at the RVT. I'm just so amateur...!
My evening had got off to a rather unfortunate start. I had bought a rather nice soup - Pea and Mint - from Eat and went to sit on the padded bench in the bar area. I am not sure what happened, but I managed to knock over my soup, over myself and over the woman sitting next to me. I was deeply embarrassed, and, of course, offered her my name and address, which she refused. On the off chance that you are reading this, I have to say that I was deeply touched and humbled by your calm, sympathetic, forgiving reaction, something I will not forget in a hurry, and only hope that I may emulate one day.
I wrote this a whole eight days before going to see her Live. Ooh! I was not sure whether to post it when I wrote it or hold it over. I'm debating whether to get her Puccini Arias. I expect I shall, in time, but should I get it at Festival Hall, and join a queue to get her to sign it? If she does a signing. She's a bit of a diva, so she might not. I wonder if she will use a prompter at the RFH. Or maybe she knows the words of the songs on the album she's promoting.
I saw her twice in La Rondine last year, and as well as the Festival Hall Recital next week, I shall also be seeing her in La Bohème next month. She has a gorgeous voice.
This album contains a fair proportion of unfamiliar or only vaguely familiar arias. Although I have to say, I have many many more tenor aria collections than soprano.
The entire selection of music is really rather gorgeous, and as her voice is also really rather special, this makes this a very special album.
My favourites on this include: Qui la voce sua soave...Ah! rendetemi la speme...Vien, diletto from Bellini's I puritani - the Mad Scene. I don't have enough Bellini in my life. I think my problem with bel canto is that the beautiful bits are very beautiful. But I want more than beautiful. Casta Diva is also by Bellini and is also beautiful, but if I was doing a 'competitive aria' thing, I would have to opt for Joan Sutherland.
Non! Non!...Ah! Je veux vire dans le rˆve from Gounod's Roméo et Juliette is quite possibly my new favourite soprano aria of this year. I just love the colaratura. And I just adore Angela singing this. I also single out Lascia ch'io pianga (Handel, Rinaldo)
Listening to this CD, I feel that I want to revise my recent post on Renée Fleming's By Request. I so much prefer Angela's voice by an order of magnitude. But never ever go back and change posts. And never set up a comparative competitive thing between divas. That having been said, I think I prefer Renée's rendition of Massanet's "I march on the railway, obeying as your voice calls..."
It's always amusing when you read Press Interviews with Angela, they always mention the diva-ish things she has done, such as requesting a stylist for a radio show, applying her lipstick during a televised Verdi Requiem, and expressing her horror that she saw some other singer going about her everyday business wearing jeans "Divas don't wear jeans." Then there are the stories of her throwing a bucket of water over a busker in the Covent Garden Piazza, behaviour I can only applaud with envy. Then the interview says, "But she was all sweetness, blah blah blah." I hope she does do a signing session. It will be interesting to see if she really is Countess Dracula.
To conclude, having got this last year and having played it a few times, I then didn't play it for a while, and I am pleasantly surprised listening to it now just how much I like it.
I spent the evening at the Royal Opera House's performance of Puccini's La Rondine. It has been called the afternoon off of a genius. Not being a big Puccini fan, all I can say 'Thank God he had the occasional afternoon off!' Actually, the music was less then memorable, and it's hardly surprising that thishas been called - incorrectly, IMO - an operetta. But very nice was the music, sounding very Twenties, although its actual first performance was 1917.
I'm going again, with Jimmy and Mummy, a week on Friday, and I am sure they will enjoy it. I shall save a detailed review for then, but I shall say: Angela Gheoghiu was gorgeous in voice and appearance, Jonas Kaufmann doubly so. The costumes were completely marvellous and the sets were to die for in their gorgeousness.
I had read some fairly negative reports about her Tosca. 
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