Gertsamtkunstwerk

Don Giovanni at Royal Opera House

I saw this on Thursday 29 January, the second performance of the first cast run of the umpteenth revival of the Francesca Zambello production. I have seen it several times before but never starring Gerald Finley. I have rather mixed feelings about Don Giovanni as a work, not least that it can drag, and is probably a bit long at the best of times.

I had been frustrated last season when Gerald's appearances were limited to a concert version of the Pearl Fishers and starring as Anna Nicole's husband. Pearl Fishers was a dull evening, salvaged only by his performance. As for Anna Nicole, I thought it was a generally well performed (and staged) production of a work I hated musically and story-wise; although I thought Gerald superb, that was in a part where his talents were wasted.

At the end of the evening, I decided that I neither like nor dislike this production. It can be irritating, but it doesn't get in the way of good performances from talented singers. The scenery is hugely annoying, a curved wall that occasionally rotates to different angles to depict different places, and takes up too much of the stage. There is very little imagination in the stage direction of principles and chorus, and barely any notion of something else going on subconsciously. I thoroughly enjoyed the Calixto Bieito production at ENO, which updated to the 20th century and was more explicit in demonstrating Don G's amorality. But perhaps I would tire of it if I had seen it as much as the Zambello.

In some ways, Don G is a thought-provoking opera. However, I think there is a limit to how many new thoughts it can provoke, especially in the twentytenth revival. It's a searingly accurate portrayal of a rich privileged empty character, just as relevant today where rich amorality and a rape culture are celebrated too widely in society. And the bewildering behaviour of Donna Elvira, who knows rationally what an utter piece of s**T Don G is, but remains besotted by him. 

My pleasure came from hearing new aspects in the music, which may be due to that particular conductor's interpretation. The conductor was Constantinos Carydis, a youngish conductor I've not previously encountered.

I tried not to read first night reviews before i attended, but got an impression of a lacklustre performance with lacklustre musical interpretations. The performance of the overture rather confirmed this. I've had a previous bad experience when the tempi of the entire opera were dragged out, seemingly to expose every nuance in the score, but at the expense of any sense of a coherent whole. This was not the case here, with the overture being taken at a cheerfully skippy pace that ignored any grand sense of what was to unfold. But generally, I enjoyed the light pace, which moved the action on at a lick. Especially because it wasn't unrelenting. Surprisingly, my lasting memory is of Dalla sua pace, where I discovered that Matthew Polenzani has a gorgeously sweet plangent lyrical voice. No rush in this aria, the orchestra seemed to be playing in sympathy, allowing time to stand still. (Shame that it also inspired some audience members nearby to rustle their sweet papers, presumably following the rule 'This is a quiet bit, not much happens').

Gerald Finley was seemingly effortlessly superb as Don Giovanni. There was one phrase in Deh vieni alla finestra, where he appeared to have tuning and/or straining issues, but it wasn't significant and didn't mar an otherwise smooth seamless performance, vocally and dramatically. At the end, before he is dragged into hell consumed by flames, he removes his top, and I was very impressed by the physique of someone a few years my senior.

I liked Hibla Gerzmava as Donna Anna and Katarina Karnéus as Donna Elvira. Although very different singers, in a sense they can both be described similarly. Often glorious, never horrible singing, threw themselves into the physical aspects of the roles, wouldn't hesitate to hear again, but wouldn't necessarily rush to a performance solely on their account. Irini Kyriakidou and Adam Plachetka were fine if unremarkable as Zerlina and Masetto, although I don't really see the point of casting these lesser roles with unknown overseas singers, rather than emerging British singers. Marco Spotti was unexceptional as the Commendatore.

I was disappointed by Lorenzo Regazzo as Leporello. He simply could not erase memories of Kyle Ketelsen who was superb in this role. I thought I liked him, based on the recording of Le Nozze di Figaro under Rene Jacobs, but I'm not sure i do. To be fair, he wasn't bad, just dull, no presence and little of interest in the voice.

Overall, it was an enjoyable evening, and I'm looking forward to seeing the alternative cast (including Erwin Schrott as the Don). But I think the ROH needs a new more exciting production, and I can't honestly say it was the most memorable performance ever at the ROH. But significantly more enjoyable than certain performances I've been to in the past 18 months or so!

Pictures from Royal Opera House's Facebook page

Backstage on Don Giovanni with Gerald Finley - Flickr set

 

 

Les pêcheurs de perles @ROH

This is of course regularly voted one of the most popular opera by Classic FM listeners*

I booked this ages ago, largely because it had Gerald Finley in the cast. Gerald is my favourite not-tenor singer, and amongst my very favourite singers of all.

I book to see a staged production at ENO in the summer, but then we decided to go on holiday instead, so I returned my ticket - and still have the credit voucher, unspent.

I had never previously heard this in its entirety. In some ways that doesn't bother me. I know there are people who say you must study the score and listen to numerous recordings before you go, and others who disagree. I don't tend to read the script before going to a film and I don't insist on seeing a facsimilie before seeing a painting.

Not that I dismiss the benefits of study and familiarisation, and occasionally, I do think - maybe I'd have got more out of that if I had been more familiar beforehand. But it often takes a live performance to turn me onto a work, especially ones that aren't masterpieces.

I was chatting with a friend beforehand. She and her husband had been to the pre-performance talk. I confessed I didn't know the plot - she assured me there wasn't one - and that I only knew two tunes - she assured me there are only two tunes.

In the interval I tweeted that it had the lamest plot ever, and was going to continue with 'I love the music', when I was joined by another friend, so my 'Makes Pelleas look fast-paced and action-packed' hung in the air like an unresolved chord whilst most of my Tweetstream was focusing on the Shadow Cabinet Elections, anyway!

As the overture began I thought, 'Oh no, lots of 19th century over-egged strings, schmaltz alert....hold on, I like that percussion, sounds a bit like Carmen. Oh, yeah, it was written by Bizet!" I think I was knitting with only one needle anyway, because when the opening singers and the conductor walked onto the stage, I thought "Gosh, that conductor looks a lot like Tony Pappano". Funny that!

Maybe I was a bit disoriented by it being a concert performance. I think I have only been to one other concert performance at ROH - although numerous concert operas at other venues, notably Barbican, Festival Hall and Albert Hall.

So, all that is a prelude to me saying: everything I write should be caveated by my total lack of familiarity with the work and it being performed in concert, with no attempts made even half-heartedly to act.

Most of the action consists of people standing around talking about what happened in the past, which doesn't strike me as being very active. Ironic, because the book on which Carmen is based in written entirely in flashback, as is Wuthering Heights, and neither of them suffer as a result. I never started to care about any of the characters nor their reasons for renouncing each other, indeed I rapidly came to the conclusion that the greatest love affair is actually between the two men, as demonstrated in the famous duet Au font du temple saint.

I had read Rupert Christiansen's review beforehand

it was a particular delight to hear the great tenor-baritone duet “Au fond du temple saint” sung with musing intimacy and quiet dignity rather than the rugby-club virility made fashionable by the dear old Jussi Bjørling and Robert Merrill recording.

And I would agree.

I thought it was a special treat having the orchestra and choir on stage. Occasionally, they swamped solo singers, but there was a greater gain from the wall-of-sound especially evident in the storm scene (which doesn't begin the work, so disqualifying it from being a great opera - that and the incredibly lame plot).

I thoroughly enjoyed Gerald Finley's singing, although it served more to confirm that he is my second-favourite singer rather than to reveal any new insights into his vocal technique. His voice doesn't make me shake at the knees but nevertheless it has a virile beauty and a purity of tone that never fails to please me.

I thought John Osborn was pleasing overall, though he did seem patchy, and although the voice has beauty, ultimately it lacks dramatic characterisation, and he had very little stage charisma. Raymond Aceto was the fourth member of the ensemble and was fine in a fairly small part.

The revelation for me was Nicole Cabell (if she has a child one day, will it be a cabelletta?). I hadn't heard her live before. When she won Cardiff, and as Musetta in the Netrebko/Villazón Bohème, she hadn't impressed me. Which is not to say I had negative feelings, simply I was indifferent.

Despite it being a concert performance, I warmed to her sensuality. It wasn't overstated and she didn't resort to hammy vamping. I really did like her voice, a warm velvety feel without ever sounding inappropriately mezzo-ish.

Regular readers will know my distaste of sopranos who consider screeching an acceptable method of reaching the high notes. Nicole got perilously close on one occasion but absolutely did not cross the line, seeming to know just how far to strain to reach the devilish high note. Although the result was a less beautiful note than the rest of her output, that in itself won her over to me.

She's 33 next week, which suggests she is entering the peak of her career. On this showing I'd love to hear and see her in more interesting roles than have so far been offered to her locally - several decent ones already in her repertoire.

I enjoyed the evening as a performance of music but I'm afraid the opera left me unmoved. I have no great desire to see it staged, although if it was done again locally I would probably go unless I had good reason not to (such as being holiday, or it being cast with detestd voices).

It is supposedly set in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) without any evidence of it being based upon accurate ethnographic research. I'm not one for banning such operas because they offend modern sensibilities: quite the opposite, I don't think we should forget the casual but persisten racism of our forebears.

But, ultimately, I thought it a weak uninteresting story. Slightly in jest, I tweeted

they all spend two acts standing around talking about it. Think what Pagliacco had done in that time!

and

Cavaradossi's harboured a refugee, shagged Tosca, & been tortured. Even Parsifal gets to kill a goose!

And unlike Canio, Cavaradossi, Tosca and Parsifal, I felt no sympathy with any of the characters. And that's before even mentioning Bizet's masterwork, Carmen - The Pearlfishers doesn't stand comparison against it.

* bullshit, of course, the voting is on the most favourite standalone number from any opera and extrapolated to imply a love of the entire work, although I feel sure that most of the electorate, like me until this week, have not heard the entire opera

Round up of the reviews of Otello at the Barbican

Otello stile inglese (Intermezzo)

the clarity and ease of O'Neill's thrilling top notes hinted at a long-gone golden age.

Gerald Finley's intelligently drawn Iago schemed with devious charm. But ultimately he lacks the fundamental heft for this role, as even a golden voice spinning meticulously-crafted phrases cannot conceal.

Edward Seckerson in the Independent shows here how to paint a picture with words:

piccolo-flecked lightening strafing the horizon

O’Neill has a real trumpet-toned top to his voice and like all true warriors he is fearless...it was refreshing, no thrilling, to hear a young singer really nail those crazed top notes. His martial outburst in act two had splendid rigour. For sure O’Neill lacked the middle-voice heft and shrouded darkness for the harrowing third act monologue but he was not found wanting in any other respect, indeed his sensitive and expressive way with text truly brought a lump to the throat in the great final scene.

Gerald Finley’s sonorous and charismatic Iago was more gracious, more mellifluous, with the musical line, his deceits positively slipping off the tongue, his “covered” ingratiations veiling the evil intent. A tremendous performance, a whiff of theatricality in every line.

Guardian

O'Neill sang tirelessly, with wonderful freedom and sustained intensity, even if purists might regard his sound as not an authentically Verdian one.Alongside him, Gerald Finley's Jago was horribly plausible too, honey-toned yet unsettlingly amoral in the second-act credo, while beauty of tone was also the hallmark of Allan Clayton's Cassio. All of them projected the text with great clarity

Financial Times

With minimal rehearsal O’Neill took command: it is basically a tightly focused tenor with a heroic upper extension, which he controls with clean confidence and natural musicality. He may not be a Moor in the burnished Domingo mould, but his steely core is impressive and he fines it down where necessary.

The most Italianate singing – and by far the best diction – came from Gerald Finley, not a singer hitherto known as a Verdi baritone. His Iago prompts a full reassessment: it had colour, character, credibility. Among a fine group of comprimarios, Allan Clayton’s Cassio showed most promise.

Two nights, one disturbing theme. These Verdi productions were world-class accounts of Shakepeare’s critique on identity (Times)

Gerald Finley was superb as Iago: insidiously sinister, yet sustaining a wonderfully suave line. A host of rising singers — Allan Clayton, Matthew Rose and Ben Johnson among them — took minor parts with distinction. And the New Zealand tenor Simon O’Neill, stepping in at 24 hours’ notice to tackle the title role for the first time in his life, gave an immense performance. If he can cultivate more tonal lustre to go with his typhoon-force top notes, he will make the Moor his own.

What's on Stage

everything came together in the second half. The Act 3 ensemble was ravishing and Act 4 was simply sublime... O’Neill’s “Niun me tema” was almost unbearably moving, showing that he has a great Otello in him and it’s not too far out of reach. Support was strong throughout the evening. If one is tempted to liken Ben Johnson’s Rodrigo and Allan Clayton’s Cassio to Ant and Dec, it didn’t detract from the beauty of their singing

MusicOMH

Simon O’Neill ... his performance of the title role was a triumph.

Gerald Finley sang with his usual musicianship, but by no stretch of the imagination is he a Verdi baritone

O’Neill delivered. His voice is not particularly beautiful or distinctive but by goodness he certainly knows how to give a performance. From his no-holds barred entrance, through to the sublime love duet which closes the first act, his voice was superbly controlled and where many more famous exponents of the role often resort to crooning, falsetto and other tricks to hide their vocal failings, O’Neill hit every note squarely, and his phrasing was faultless. He was tireless and still had plenty of mezza voce left for a quite heart-rending death scene. Watching him grow into the role over the next few years is a mouth-watering prospect as currently I can’t think of an Otello to touch him.

A new Otello is born!

Thrilled at the prospect of hearing Gerald Finley's first performance as Iago,  I booked my ticket for this months ago.  Having heard Ben Heppner's vocal collapse at Covent Garden, I was concerned at how any tenor would shape up in the title role.  I feel that's there only two singers around today I want to hear in this role. One's given it up and the other has not yet embraced the role*.

I heard the scheduled tenor Torsten Kerl in Die Tote Stadt, which somewhat allayed my fears, but I had no great expectations; I was very much focusing on this being Iago the Opera.

On Wednesday my blackberry vibrated with the news that Torsten Kerl had to withdraw,  being replaced by Simon O'Neill. With all due respect to Torsten, this was like booking Easy Jet and being forcibly upgraded to First Class on a flag-carrier.

I heard Simon's Florestan at the Proms and knew he has been quite wrongly missing from my life ('didn't you see him as Siegmund a couple of years ago?' someone asked me, and then laughed realising what a ridiculous question that was!).

I wasn't aware that Simon actually had Otello in his repertoire, although I subsequently discovered that he had planned to sing it last year at Salzburg but withdrew, because it was too soon to take on the role.

So, the scene is set. A role debutant as Otello - that role, where nothing is good enough for me, where everything will be compared to El Maestro. A role debutant who was called in at two days notice. It is customary to make allowances for a cover, and especially in such dramatic circumstances. I knew I should be grateful if he merely got through the role without doing a Heppner.

I take my seat, at ground level, right in front of the stage, close to the back row of the first violins, and really not very far from the tam-tam and the rest of the percussion. A woman makes the customary cancellitis announcement from the side, and then a man walks onto the platform who bears an uncanny resemblance to Nicholas Kenyon. I realise it is Nicholas Kenyon, who is there to announce that Colin Davis has just been announced recipient of the Queen's Medal for Music 2009. Colin came on, to rapturous applause, some of it standing, but he was having none of that - it was down to business.

Like all great operas (except Nozze), Otello begins with a storm scene. I only have to hear the tam-tam and my adrenaline is soaring. I marvelled in wonder at the gloriousness of the London Symphony Chorus and I sat back in my seat, ready to take in the proceedings.

I love being at the front, surrounded by the sound of the orchestra, but it has its disadvantages. In this concert performance, the singers retained the same position on stage all night (if they were needed; if not they were off stage).

It's very unlike a Handel opera in concert, where the Baroque orchestra allows for plenty of moving around, and the constant entering-and-leaving. This was the LSO, backed by the LSC, in all their 19th century grandeur, for a very grand 19th century opera, the soloists squeezed in at the front - Otello and Desdemona on my side and all the rest on the far side of the conductor.

This was the major downside of my evening: I never really got a proper view of Gerald Finley; I missed his stage presence and vitality; it was not until the final 'curtain' calls that I could be sure that he was indeed bearded. I also believe that I did not hear his singing properly, which was a shame. Also, I couldn't see the surtitle board, but, believe me, I really can live without it in Otello (although I'm not quite sure of the significance of 'fazzoletto').

I saw Simon preparing for his big entrance, his eyes firmly on the score but never buried in them. And then, Esultate. Never jump to conclusions, but I felt this surge of excitement: someone who sings Esultate like that is likely to be an acceptable Otello. I was entirely won over by the Gia nella notte densa.

I believe I will remember this evening for a long time, and it will certainly go down as one of my 2009 highlights. It's not the first time this year I have gone to hear Gerald Finley and had him outdone in my affections by an Antipodean tenor. That these operas were Peter Grimes and Otello makes this perfectly acceptable and does not diminish Gerald's sterling performance, and, of course, his Dr Atomic was of immense significance at the start of the year.

Sometimes, you come away from a performance with a feeling of 'yeah it was okay but there were all these faults'. Tonight was a night where you know that the details won't  stand up to microscopic analysis, but the overall effect was so tremendous that you really don't care.

There was probably more bombast than subtlety coming from the orchestra, which I don't think was purely a result of my lowly seat. There was some exquisite string playing in the second act, and the cor anglais was plangent in the opening to Act 4. It seemed like a good idea to position the trumpets for Act 3 to my left (in Door 1, I think it is, the one next to the door to backstage), and acoustically it worked, but it served only to expose the dodgy notes. I was startled by the boom of the bass drum (is it imitating cannon fire, or the anchor being lowered?).

Of course, I arrived with a lot of baggage and pre-conceived notions of how an Otello 'should' sound. It was surprisingly pleasant to hear a very different vocal interpretation of the role. Some half-time discussion about the timbre of Simon's voice, especially towards the upper end of the range elicited suggestions of 'reedy' and 'sweet', neither of which suffice but are better than any adjective I could find. I finally settled for 'counterheldentenor'. But hey, let's not worry about word pictures; suffice to say he was wonderful.

However much one tries to be objective, it is impossible not to be influenced by the knowledge of the circumstances. I am sure that when I hear the CD I will be more aware of flaws - there has been some speculation about the CD, with Torsten Kerl originally set to do Sunday night's performance despite Thursday's cancellations. But Simon also did Sunday's, according to the Barbican website, so they will have one performance and one spare (which is considered necessary, for patching).

The flaws were not significant. The biggest weakness was the lack of characterisation - this was never a scary Otello in quite the way you expect when watching on DVD. Understandable in a concert performance, with little preparation, with the hall lights on bright. The final act demands darkness.

In the great numbers, it was vocally superb. I writhed in pleasure during Ora e sempre addio; the Sangue sangue sangue Si Pel Ciel Marmoreo Giuro was sublime, two fabulous voices soaring above the orchestra; when I emerged for the interval I wanted to hear it again, maybe just the duet, but, preferably the entire act! As for Nium me tema - oh wow, that was goooood!

I was in a poor position to get the full benefit of the Gerald Finley experience, but it certainly came across as exquisite. I am most familiar with Sergei Leiferkus in this role, who lends a snidey steely quality to the role, which I never expected from Gerald. I have skimmed through several reviews that have asserted that he is no Verdi baritone. As I have never found a satisfactory definition of 'Verdi baritone', I don't really care. He sounded glorious, every note and , every nuance of the libretto and character perfect.

I was undecided about Anne Schwanewilms as Desdemona. It is an attractive and expressive voice with some glorious ringing notes. But, and this is a big but, she sounded spectacularly Wagnerian. Granted, Otello is Verdi's most obviously post-Wagner opera, and that there were some suspiciously Wagner sounding sounds emanating from the orchestra. But her style of singing, which I'm sure is superb in Strauss, in which she is pre-eminent, simply doesn't fit with Verdi. Technically it was excellent, but the legato, the phrasing, the tone were so very Germanic that it seemed strange. I don't suppose it's any weirder than Italianate Wagner, and it's possibly a valid interpretation, but I would have to get used to it before I could properly opine.

There was luxury in depth in the lesser roles. Matthew Rose was his usual dependable self, and stand-out as Cassio was Allan Clayton (the inaugural recipient of the Sir Elton John scholarship at RAM). Allan is dubbed as 'one to watch'. I hadn't even heard of him until I booked next week's Messiah, but on the strength of a well sung, well-characterised Cassio (with some facial expressions which suggested an easy acting ability) I would definitely concur: my anticipation has added 'exciting young tenor' to the excellent Lucy Crowe and Patricia Bardon (unfortunately, Matthew Rose has had to withdraw; I hope James Rutherford performs better than he did last time saw him, in an overall very disappointing Beethoven 9 at The Proms.

But the story of the night, and the justification for Twitter's desperate search for tickets for Sunday's repeat, was Simon O'Neill. A glorious voice who tackled this role with seeming ease. If someone had stepped up as Alfredo at short notice, there would have been shrugs all round, but Otello, the mountain of a role that requires a dramatic tenor and a musician. Many have tried, few have succeeded.

Afterwards I was sitting with friends having a drink in the basement bar and saw Simon walking through with several other people (entourage, I guess, but not in an entourage way). I approached him and thanked him for a wonderful performance. I hope my face showed that I wasn't just sycophantic. I really meant it. Neither of my companions are the types to praise where it isn't due, but they were both full of praise for a remarkable performance (but they don't do star-struckness like I do!). He seems a nice guy, certainly approachable, and down-to-earth. I suspect in years to come, when I'm in my anecdotage, it will be one of those nights where I can say 'I was there!'

I will buy the CD from LSO Live when it released and I shall also buy Simon O'Neill: Father and Son: Wagner Scenes and Arias

This is a few months old but definitely worth a read: Interview with Simon O'Neill

* I do hear that Jonas Kaufmann has offered his first Otello to the Royal Opera House, on the condition he gets a new production.

Beethoven 1 and 9 again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Update Cunning Little Vixen was also in the audience

* and yes, famous

Sossled at the Barbican

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* SOSSLED's Mission Statement:

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

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

Beethoven's Ninth

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

I cannot disagree with a word. It was stupendous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the papers say...

...about Le Nozze di Figaro

The Guardian

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

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

The Times

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

The Observer

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

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

Bloomberg

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

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

Music OMH

Le nozze di Figaro (Photo: Bill Cooper)

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

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

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

The Telegraph

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

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

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

The Independent

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

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

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

New York Times

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

Playbill Arts

Gerald Finley as Count Almaviva and Miah Persson as Susanna

Bill Cooper

Le Nozze di Figaro

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Le Nozze di Figaro

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marriage of Figaro Reviews

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

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

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

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

Gerald Finley

Gosh!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eugene Onegin

Starring Gerald Finley

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

At English National Opera.

A wonderful night out.

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

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

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

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

* ie not at all, really

Critics round-up

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

Eugene Onegin at ENO:

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

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

Britten's War Requiem

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

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

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

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

It's a great piece of work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anthony Dean Griffey and Gerald Finley

Gerald Finley and Anthony Dean Griffey

La Traviata

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

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

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

 

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

This is what I wrote on rmo

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

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

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

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

And someone else replied

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

The Guardian broadly agrees with me, despite its scathing opening

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

It includes a picture.

The FT is fulsome

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

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

Update The DVD referred to in the comments box below is