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Le Nozze di Figaro at Royal Opera House

I have been feeling slightly disenchanted with opera. Or, perhaps, I have been struggling with nights out. Precisely, I have found that a night out may have the ability to lift my spirits and re-energise me, but I have seen too many operas recently that have served only to tire me, leave me aching from sitting too long, and deprive me of rest.

I booked Le Nozze di Figaro because I have not seen it for quite a while. I returned my ticket in 2010 because it clashed with taking a holiday, which was necessary to fit in before the several Simon Boccanegra performances at the Royal Opera House. Overall, the cast did not massively attract, except for Simon Keenlyside. When he withdrew, I intended to return my ticket, but never actually got round to doing so, so I went sort of by accident, with very low expectations, not least of myself.

So it was a sheer delight to sit in an amazing seat and bask in what was a gorgeous performance. The production is the same as I originally saw six years ago and is available on DVD. In short, I still vastly enjoy the production. I could make criticisms about some details, as I could then, and I know there was an argument that it made no sense setting it what appeared to be the early 19th century, but despite this, or irrespective, it's definitely my favourite production I have seen.

My seat was amazing because it was fairly cheap but afforded a great view of most of the stage, up close. Certainly no need for binoculars, as I was sitting in line with and to the side of the orchestra pit in the stalls circle. So when the singers stood at the front of the stage, on my side, it sounded, looked and felt very intimate. During the interval, I tweeted that I had three different shows going on: the singing and acting on stage, the sublime orchestral concert at my feet, and the interesting show given by Tony Pappano on the podium. I was tempted even to write that Such-a-Role was sung by Jo Bloggs and Tony Pappano.

The highlight was the orchestra playing. I am as familiar with the sound of this work as I am with any opera, although I don't actually study scores, pretty much like I don't require a recipe when I dine out.

I guess some people would argue that dynamic contrasts, and, to some extent, those of tempi, were brash. I couldn't persuade otherwise but am convinced that the brashness was deliberate. In any case, the lyrical passages were extraordinarily plangent, and I never got a feeling of disembodied numbers being played.

I just loved the sound the orchestra makes. It surprises me that Tony Pappano is so talented at Mozart and yet so clearly detests Baroque and especially Handel.

The cast was on average better than good. I was particularly taken with Lucas Meachem as Il Conte, more than just a replacement for Keenlyside. Not a beautiful voice, but robust and effortless. A convincing stage presence if not necessarily oozing with charisma. Physically attractive if not a conventional barihunk. I also really liked Aleksandra Kurzak as Susanna. I'd previously heard her as Norina, and enjoyed her with reservations. Those reservations were gone this evening, a delightful voice, and a lively stage performance.

I want to like Ildebrando Arcangelo more than I do. I've seen him good and I've seen him not so. I concluded that being close to him was a definite advantage. He demonstrated he is capable of singing loud, but when he's not singing loud, he can be hard to hear from far away over a big orchestra; certainly loses the vocal nuances.

I also found him a delight to watch at close quarters. Again, a nuanced and intelligent performance. Perhaps overall he is perfect for a small house or on DVD, not so from up high in a larger house.

Anna Bonatatibus was fine as Cherubino, a role that must be a dream for any mezzo to play. The supporting cast all played their supporting roles wonderfully; it was particularly nice to see Ann Murray as Marcellina and remember Philip Langridge, her late husband, as Don Basilio.

I really didn't take to Rachel Willis-Sørensen one bit as the Contessa. It's difficult, because the cheers at the end made it clear that most of the audience loved her, and I am very aware that my 'I don't like' is purely subjective and is not an objective assessment of her ability. I thought her loud and squawky; I would only like to see her in those loud squawky Verdi soprano roles in preference to Sondra Radvanovsky, whom she vocally resembles.

I thought she moved as if she had conscientiously and ably learned complex stage directions, and got no sense of her being a natural actor, almost as if she was constantly fighting the urge to park-and-bark. But maybe I am unnecessarily harsh on account of my my vocal dislike of her.

What was nice was that the performance brought back memories of the exceptional cast from 2006; it confirmed my belief that cast was exceptional. And yet, I enjoyed this cast, not despite the previous cast, but regardless. I know that it's possible to treasure memories of highlight performances without them ruining future enjoyment.

And I'm seriously convinced again that Figaro might just be my favourite opera, even thought tenors are giving scandalously tiny roles.

Photos from the Royal Opera House Facebook page

Contessa Perdono: why laugh?

I googled this phrase and found two blogposts:

Perhaps the most sublime moment in all of music occurs in the Fourth Act of Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro

The Count's voice, half moan, half cry, echoes through the silenced auditorium with all the remorse and yearning that the human soul is capable of. "Contessa, perdono", he sings, and the music soars like a wounded bird, then, ashamed of its own presumption, sinks wearily, guiltily back to earth.

In the end, the Count is shamed into begging the Countess's pardon. Contessa, Perdono.The most beautiful phrase in Western music.

I may not agree with the absolute comparative but I see no reason to argue with these heartfelt opinions. It's the 'game changer' in the opera. It's legitimate to ask whether the Count is genuinely remorseful - in other words, it's human to assume that, in time, he will fall back into his sex-pest habits. But he is genuinely remorseful in the moment; he believes himself to be truly so. How do I know? Because the music tells me so.

And yet, when I see this from amidst the expensive seats, there is laughter. To some people, it's a hilarious moment. Actually, I doubt that. Very little in opera provokes spontaneous unstoppable belly shaking laughter. Some situations inspire a ripple of amusement. 

Why do people laugh here? Maybe they are virulently feminist anti-establishment types, more extremely so than me, snorting in derision in the duplicitous male, gleefully anticipating The Reign of Terror. The special undercover feminist revolutionaries who cunningly disguise themselves as smug posh people and sit in the expensive seats at the Royal Opera House. I doubt it.

So why do they laugh? Are they just reading the surtitle screen? I don't understand it. It is worse by several degrees of magnitude to those that give a throaty 'ha ha ha' to make sure everyone knows they've 'got' the joke in a light-hearted funny comedy. It risks ruining the moment for everyone who has been listening to the music, hearing the emotions unfold.

There must be a good reason, because it happens so frequently - I know directly and I've read it so often 

I can't recall 100%, but I'm pretty certain when I saw Figaro in pre-surtitle days, nobody laughed at the Count's line "Contessa perdono!" ... and now audiences seem to find that exquisitely beautiful line something to just roar in laughter at. Anyone have any idea as to why?

and

  I once heard a master coach comment that in a successful production of Figaro, the audience doesn’t laugh when the Count says “Contessa, perdono,” because, though one has little faith in the future, in the moment he truly believes it. In this production, no one laughed.

 and

A good few members of the audience, however, seemed to find hilarious a chair being pushed from one side of the stage. Presumably many of them were the same people who laughed – unforgivably – at the Count’s final plea for forgiveness.

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

 

 

Don Giovanni

I attended this at Covent Garden on Thursday evening.

It was the same production that I saw fourteen months ago, and some of the cast was the same. I had sat in the Lower Slips back then (two performances, one on the Left and one on the Right). This time I was in the Amphitheatre proper, in that delightful seat where legroom is restricted by a box containing wiring or somesuch, and where a small portion of the front stage is cut off from view, but where, in my experience, the acoustics are as good, and generally better, than anywhere in the house.

I have to conclude that DG is never going to be my favourite opera. It certainly has its moments, and the story is such that one can debate motives, characters and so on. But it's just too bloody long. Two acts each of 90 minutes, and plenty of scope for cutting...not that I would advocate cutting, but there are so many longeurs. Often the story advances during the most dreary musical parts, and the best music does little too advance the plot. Although that isn't in itself a bad thing.

I have mixed feelings about the Zambello production that plays at Covent Garden. I definitely prefer the Calixto Beito production that has played at ENO (don't know whether they have ditched it). I don't like the sets: so often Zambello sets seem to dominate the stage, limiting the scope for action and rendering much of the singing to the front of the stage where there is a risk if it being park-and-bark. And yet, there is enough intelligent direction of the cast, many of whom are good on the acting side anyway, that there is never any danger of it being static and formulaic.

Although there is scope for criticism, most of the cast performed well overall. There have been criticisms of the fast tempi employed by Charles Mackerras (as he took to the podium, a voice behind me exclaimed 'he's eighty two!') ; having heard Ivor Bolton's funereal interpretation I would say, the faster the better, please. However, I did find that the orchestra drowned out the singers on far too many occasions, and there was never really any sense of intimacy from the pit, which I think there should be. Although the chorus does appear, much of the singing is solo or in various ensembles of the principals.

There were various 'gimmicks' which were entertaining. Noticeable was the end of Act 1 when Don Giovanni was escaping the mob angry at his seduction of Zerlina - Simon Keenlyside shimmied up the wall, assisted only by a knotted rope for hand-grip - the wall was nearly as high as the proscenium, so this was no mean feat. 'He's forty-eight!' said a voice behind me. I do like the bit where Donna Anna and Donna Elvira intent on revenge arrive on stage in breeches and with guns slung across their back, looking delightfully boyish and seriously homo-erotic (although I found the previous outing of Anna Netrebko and Ana Maria Martinez to be more exciting). At the start of Act II DG and Leporello swap clothes and Leporello mimes while DG sings, I thought Kyle Ketelsen did a wonderful display of mugging, mimicking stereotypical park-and-bark singers who act via semaphore.

And the penultimate scene, the grand finale, when DG is sucked down into the fires of hell is a tremendous coup de theatre which doesn't pale on repeat.

Singing-wise Kyle Ketelsen was outstanding. Most of the rest were generally good or better. I concluded that Simon Keenlyside is too light a baritone for my liking, I would prefer a more bass-baritone sound. And I found his portrayal surprisingly two-dimensional; I didn't get any insights into the character, which was disappointing. Of the women, Joyce DiDonato was probably the best , but I preferred Ana Maria Martinez last time around. Marina Poplavskaya impressed me in much the same way she had in Don Carlo:a gorgeous voice that seems a bit rough around the edges, and graceful and poised on stage, but not a great stage animal. But there is something about her that says 'star quality' in big lights. I was disappointed with Miah Persson, who, when I have heard her before has sounded gorgeous. Robert Gleadow was excellent as Masetto. He impressed me in several small roles as a Young Artist and I look forward to his future in major roles.  And I really don't know what to make of Robert Murray. I thought his Dalla sua pace was unremittingly awful, wayward of pitch and with really bad coloratura, but his Il mio tesoro was basically very good. And he had the most awful mullet-wig which did him no favours appearance-wise. Erik Halfvarson was more than adequate as Il Commendatore.

So, overall, a decent and basically enjoyable performance, but not one for the ages, and not one to give me any new insights into the work. The second cast takes over now, and while it doesn't lack attractive singers, I have no regrets at giving it a miss. One performance was hard enough work.

I took some indifferent photos at the curtain call which will appear in my Performance album in due course, but there are loads of proper professional ones from the production at Arena Pal

Next event is La Calisto on 1 October.

Die Zauberflöte

It's no surprise that I have reached the age of nearly forty without ever seeing Die Zauberflöte live. Don't be surprised if I wait until I am eighty before seeing it again.

The first act is long, the second act is even longer. Indeed the second act is as long as Wozzeck. I would far rather sit through Wozzeck. There are three reasons to like Die Zauberflöte. One of them is that some of the music is fabulous. Another is that David McVicar's production is rather fun. But, having seen a few on DVD, I suspect it's easy enough to make a fun production. I recently watched the Glyndebourne/Hockney production and it seemed familiar, perhaps I had watched it in my childhood. If so, it came very close to putting me off opera for life, which would have been quite regrettable at age 9.

The third good thing is Simon Keenlyside. Indeed it became for me an opera of two parts: those when Ickle Shirtless was on stage and those when he wasn't. Not that I'm saying the rest of the cast were bad, they weren't. Just that most of them lacked any stage presence or charisma. Steven Milling was excellent as Sarastro, I could tell. And Kishani Jayasinghe almost stole the show as Papagena.

But there are and were too many bad things about it. The story is total tosh and I simply don't care about the characters. I sort of like the utter bitchiness of the Queen of the Night, but I was disappointed by the delivery of that aria. A few weeks ago I spent an evening watching some fantastic deliveries on YouTube from Diana Damrau and Edita Gruberova, inter alia. I believe that our QotN makes a career singing tis role but she didn't live up to those illustrious divas.

The music is by Mozart, whose Figaro I adore, but I feel his Cosi and Don G could benefit from judicious editing, great though they are. I think Flute could do with even more editing. Indeed, I have a CD (one disc) of highlights. That's just about enough Flute.

All that masonic crap is utterly tedious. The misogyny is of its time, and shouldn't be censored, but does nothing to enamour me to the work. There are considerable longeurs when various singers are singing pretty, but I really don't care.

No production is so great it can rescue a dismal work, not even when the director is the great god David McVicar. Great arias are great arias, but can be enjoyed in isolation in the comfort of one's own home.

So that leaves me with Simon Keenlyside to savour. I have caught him in concert rep, and in a concert opera. I walked out in the interval of Pelleas because it was musically/production-wise ghastly, notwithstanding fab performances from Messrs Keenlyside and Finley and Frau Kirchschlager. I caught him when he was in poor vocal form in Iphigenie. So, finally, I get to appreciate the full glory of Simon Keenlyside. He was the difference between a bad night out and the salvaging of something very special to remember. His singing was flawless - when I say Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen sounded just like it does on his CD, Tales of Opera, trust me  that is praise. His portrayal of the character was entirely convincing,from his rather hunched walk, to his comic timing, and, naturally, his athleticism, including a sort of somersault across stage (tumbling is, I think, the technical term for it) and his flying leap to join Papagena in bed.

Still, he said in a recent interview that he's learning the role of Wozzeck. We know that Wozzeck is planned for a future season at ROH, so perhaps that will star Shirtless. If so, I very much look forward to that, much more than to a future performance of Zauberflöte.

There was a slight comedy moment at curtain call when Simon and Stephen realised they were next to each other and Stephen patted Simon on the head. Stephen is 200 cm (I asked his manager, who was sitting next to me at Die Walküre; she asked him, he told her, she told me) and I'm sure someone's said that Simon is about 5'6". So, that's quite a difference...

Oh, and just for the record, Simon's shirt stayed resolutely on, but his trousers did come down.

I also missed the live falcon. I'm a bit thick sometimes.

Don Giovanni

Not my favourite Mozart opera, even though 'the experts' claim it to be the greatest (they've obviously never heard Le Nozze di Figaro!).

It is a lovely work, but, relatively speaking, it has its longeurs.

Also, as I discovered as a result of two separate visits, it really can depend upon the conductor. The first time I attended it was conducted by Ivor Bolton. I might have been prejudiced by the reviews that I read previously ('not fit to conduct a bus') except that on the second hearing, I thought during the overture that it was much crisper and, generally, much better. I consulted my cast list and realised that the bloke with the baton was David Syrus. And even though I don't tend to notice - or at least can't really critique - the standards of conducting, I can definitely perceive a step-change in the performance of the orchestra and how the piece and the ensemble hang together.

I have already blogged my thoughts on the actual story of the opera. I do think that story-wise, it is in a small minority of non-Wagnerian operas with plots, story and characterisations that merit re-evaluation and discussion. I was struck by how the Don 's portrayal was slightly Aspergers/ADHD. A companion suggested that she found it difficult to believe that he would have just murdered the Commendatore. I think she was implying that he simply wasn't sufficiently evil, but I contend that it is a superb definition of amoral - a failure to understand the consequences of actions and how they impact others and, ultimately oneself. He killed the Commendatore because he got in the way. I read something recently about the spate of teenage gun/knife deaths and how these juvenile gang members simply do not understand that knives kill nor do they have any concept of the finality of death. And I felt the Don had that adolescent absence of empathy. Even his prolific shagging is not done with any thought as to whether it's right or wrong, it's just something he does.

I thought that in general the cast was excellent. Erwin Schrott as the eponymous hero was excellent. There is some debate about his method of delivering recitative. On the first occasion it was parlando, on the second less so. Unlike some others I don't think it detracts from his performance. I am certain it is a carefully considered interpretation. Vocally I could not fault him. I think he has a gorgeous voice and excellent musicianship,which are in themselves enough to make his performance a memorable Don. The fact that he also happens to be an excellent stage actor and somewhat aesthetically pleasing, too, is a bonus! Especially as his clothing gets less. In the scene when the stone statue of the Commendatore comes to life (except it doesn't in this production), he is dressed only in tight fitting crimson silk trousers, and insists on pouring wine down his chest and onto his trousers. which is just unnecessary, although perfectly pleasant to watch! And the very final shot is  a glimpse of him in hell, almost certainly wearing nothing at all, although holding a woman in a position sufficiently strategic to retain an element of doubt. Very unnecessary but perfectly agreeable. Whether that really is hell, I doubt, unless hell is about continuing one's earthly mistakes: a character like the Don may never find happiness, peace or self-awareness because of his insatiable libido.

Kyle Ketelsen was superb as Leporello, a fine singer, and managing to convey quite a complex contradictory character, clearly disapproving of the Don's performance, but whether from any moral grounds or merely because of the inconvenience and practical implications, it is difficult to say. I loved the way he delivered Madamina, il catalogo è questo was particularly impressive, making me conclude that it probably is the best - or equal best - number in the work.

Of the women I thought that Ana Maria Martinez was outstanding. I am still not entirely convinced that she is not a mezzo. What I am sure of is that she is a tremendous singer and a great comedy actress. I had not really previously thought of Donna Elvira as a comedy part, but Ana Maria played her convincingly so. I happen to think that Donna Elvira is the leading lady anyway, with far more interesting vocal bits and a fuller character, even though I often find her a bit pitiful - in this interpretation it was still a bit sad that she wanted Don Giovanni despite knowing about him what she did. But at least it was logical - as if she had calculated that his social status was worth marrying into, and in nay case he was better than being left on the shelf.

The peasant leads were played by Matthew Rose and Sarah Fox. I felt Matthew was under-parted, even though I really liked the way he played the not-very-bright character. I tend to agree with the critics who feel that Sarah was  a bit generic as Zerlina. That having been said, I do not think that she was helped on either occasion by the tempo in that very great duet La ci darem la mano which should have been much quicker. But it was obviously all about Don Giovanni, when it should have been partly about her.

Although Erwin Schrott was the lead role and clearly and unanimously the star of the piece, the star name was Anna Netrebko. She had missed the first couple of performances with a cold, and dropped out of the second half of my second performance, so I have to assume that she was cold-affected throughout the run, although I can't say I noticed. She was excellent, even though she obviously takes time to warm up. If you were judging solely on her first appearance, you wouldn't think much, but her big aria towards the end of Act I was a tour de force. Marina Poplavskaya was a splendid substitute in the second act of my second attendance. I would have liked to have heard her for an entire performance. She is clearly something special, and even though she is pretty wayward at the top of her range it doesn't seem to matter when the voice in general, the musicality, and the inhabiting the role are of such a high standard. I very much look forward to her Tatiana (Evgeny Onegin) and Elizabetta (Don Carlos) next season.

I had two different Commendatori; of the two Robert Lloyd was superb, and the other one wasn't.

I can't say I cared very much for the production. It did what it had to do, just about, but without anything particularly interesting. The set was a construction that dominated most of the stage, and for most of the time the singers were forced into a very small space at the front. There was nothing else in the way of set eg no furniture, abusable or otherwise. There was not much of excitement in the personenregie, I would dread to think how it would be if the cast were less instinctive actors. The final coup de theatre was fun,as the flames of hell rose up, but I don't think that one gimmick makes a production. I prefer Calixto Beito's English National Opera production by a degree of magnitude. One aspect that particularly annoyed me is what I refer to in my mind as the "Covent Garden Lower Orders Dance". It seems to me that the Royal Opera House Ladies Chorus, whenever they have to portray common people do so by a dance which involves holding their skirts. Just because it worked for "I'd Do Anything for You" in the film of Oliver! doesn't mean it has to be aped in every sodding opera. Stop it! Now!

There are lots of pictures at Playbill Arts and, of course at Arena Pal. My Stage Door Report

Marriage of Figaro @ ENO

I saw this on 6 February, but, for some reason, never published this.

Approached with some trepidation. My favourite opera - the first one I ever saw live. Performed by a second rate company (with all due respect to ENO, they are not a Grade A house). Coming a year and two days after the brilliant performance I saw at Covent Garden, seven months to the day after the excellent revival there. In English. And subject to mediocre reviews in the media.

Marriage of Figaro is a problematic opera for me. One of the greatest pieces of art, and certainly one of the greatest operas ever produced. And yet, not really a tenor vehicle. Except for Don Curzio who barely figures at all, and Don Basilio, who, when luxury-cast with someone like Philip Langridge as last year at ROH is a wonderful role, but is usually an entirely forgettable comprimario. So, really, an opera without tenors is barely an opera at all!

My favourite opera, and one which I have three times on audio-only and seven times on DVD/video. But I could barely tell you a brief synopsis, let alone sit there and say what's coming in the next ten or fifteen minutes. Not a note of music unfamiliar, to the extent that play me a bar or two and I'll sing the next few bars without hesitation, yet every time I hear it I hear something new in the music, some previously un-noticed embellishment from the orchestra or key change in the score.  The opera I would recommend in general to newbies and one that reveals something new with every new interpretation and subsequent re-listen.

Cast: The Count: Scott Hendricks
Figaro: Iain Paterson
Susanna: Sarah Tynan
The Countess: Susan Gritton
Cherubino: Stephanie Marshall
Dr Bartolo: Graeme Danby
Marcellina: Yvonne Howard
Barbarina: Claire Mitcher
Don Basilio: Alan Oke
Don Curzio: Christopher Gillett
Antonio: Nicholas Folwell
Conductor: André de Ridder
Director: Olivia Fuchs

The production has been described as 'Gosford Park', which I suppose it means it was set somewhere between the two World Wars.  It was fine, nothing that really stood out as being either inspired or a mistake. For the opening scene in Figaro/Susanna's bedroom, a box tactic is employed, but rather than a stage-within-a-stage, it is isolated by clever lighting. Much of the action takes place in front of a bell pull device like all the best houses have. To be honest, apart from the opening box, and the characteristic ENO device of a sideways-sliding set not being wheeled completely off the stage, I remember very little of the set. Which is not necessarily a criticism: simply that it does not compare to the wonderful set at ROH last year. Although I do especially recall the Countess's wardrobe, perhaps especially because Cherubino knocked over the clothes rail and spent most of her/his time reassembling it. I am not sure whether it was accidental or part of the production.

And, generally, the production was not as memorable as the fabulous McVicar production. But it was still good enough. My bottom line is personenregie. I do not like productions that leave the singers floundering or statically facing forward regardless of whether or not they are singing.

Orchestra and stick waving. I had read others report criticisms of some tempi, but I didn't find that a major problem specifically. However, the ensemble did fall apart in that great sextet - all that sua madre, sua padre - which I think must be fiendishly difficult to hold together. Also, I was disappointed in Non piu andrai by the lack of oomph, it seemed to lack that triumphant martial quality I think the number deserves. In general, I felt the conducting/playing was technically adequate but without memorable highlights.

All the other set pieces were at least adequate and in some cases better. Of the main characters I found the Count and Cherubino to be generic, which is not especially a criticism, but they could not compare with the splendid performers I have heard in these roles live and on record. Sarah Tynan was an attractive Susanna, and I thought Susan Gritton gorgeous as the Countess. If not up to the standard yet of some of the best I have heard, I think she could be soon.

For me the highlight was Iain Paterson.  As soon as the season was announced I knew that I had to see him in this role, and it was just lack of organisation that meant I didn't book a ticket for 6 February until 2 February. I love his voice, and I think he is wasted at ENO. He was Le Bret in Cyrano de Bergerac at Covent Garden and is due to be the First Nazarene in Salome. I hope he will soon be given more substantial roles there; in the meantime, he is a delight at ENO, although even his luxury-cast Schaunard is not sufficient to drag me to ENO for La Bohème, an opera I find dreary and requiring a superstar in at least one of Mimi and Rodolfo. And from where I was sitting in the balcony I felt that a reduction in weight by about a stone would be no bad thing. He reminds me a lot of former sort-of boyfriend of mine; I think that's a positive rather than a negative!

I could write reams about the  genius that is demonstrated by Mozart's music. I could wax lyrical about Da Ponte's superb libretto. I could talk about the narrative and dramaturgy that I assume is Beaumarchais. I could also examine the subversive revolutionary element. But I won't. Just yet. Just say that I enjoyed a lovely evening's entertainment.

Don Giovanni

Ages ago, I decided that I would blog my entire record collection before I'm forty. This includes operas, whether audio only or video presentations.

And I got into a bad situation that I couldn't motivate myself to capture the words to describe one of the greatest operas ever written, Don Giovanni, the 'D' of the ABCD of opera.

I have two versions on DVD or video; I saw the 'notorious' Calixto Bieito version at ENO some time ago and I have booked to see the Royal Opera House production twice next summer.

One of the versions was shown on TV a couple of years back - a Peter Brook production from Aix en Provence: the Mahler Chamber orchestra  conducted by  Daniel Harding. When I watched it, I made the following notes:

Not especially starry cast.

Don Ottavio sang a gorgeous Sulla Pace and Il mio tesoro; La ci darem was nice enough. DG is easy on the eye not so easy on the voice. Nice modern dress and minimalist sets. Not especially gripping dramatically.

I did like Donna Elvira

Pleasant and enjoyable to watch once. Not sure I would again.

DG Peter Mattei
Leporello Gilles Cachemaille
Masetto Nathan Berg
Don Ottavio Mark Padmore
Donna Anna Alexandra Deshorties
Zerlina Lisa Larsson
Donna Elvira Mireille Delunsch
Il commendatore Gudjon Oskarsson

At which point, I think: Ah! Don Ottavio, gorgeous voice, Don Ottavio Mark Padmore. Of late I have almost become a big fan of Mark Padmore, albeit with reservations, so it's good to know that there is some consistency in my feelings.

The other version I have is a Zurich Opera Production under the baton of Nikolaus Harnoncourt, and a strong cast led by Rod Gilfrey.

Mozart Prom

Not much of a clue, I have to admit. There has been rather a lot of them. And, to be honest, six minutes into the one I am going to review I had already drafted my blog post "I'm just about Mozarted-out for 2006. Call me again in ten years or whatever..."

And I have to say Sunday's Prom was not exactly designed to make one like Mozart.

Mozart, reconstr. Philippe A. Autexier: Meistermusik, for men's chorus and orchestra, (original version of Masonic Funeral Music, K477)
Mozart: Symphony No. 39 in E-flat major, K543

Mozart, compl. Sussmayr: Requiem in D minor, K626

The main problem was the orchestra. And the choir. And I suppose, the conductor. But the choice of repertoire was not exactly inspired. The Meistermusik was boring. I am not a great fan of most of Mozart's symphonies and I can't say this one did anything for me.

The problem was an intimate Period Ensemble in the Albert Hall. I'm sure they would have been lovely in a smaller more intimate venue like the Barbican or the Festival Hall...But they were shite in the Albert Hall. Oh, all the right notes, basically in the right places and most of them on pitch. But no passion.

After the interval was Mozza's Requiem. This is not his best mass by a long shot. The C major (Coronation) is exponentially better. In my opinion, which, on this blog is all that matters, anyway...And it was not a great performance.

For some bizarre reason I have three versions of this in my collection, and two on my mp3player. I think I first really came across it in the film, Amadeus, and it's often used in documentaries of his life. There's a sense of doom running through it, especially noticeable in the introduction. But that just failed to come through, a lack of boom. boom. boom. coming from the bass, instrumental or choral. In fact a general lack of vim and a lingering aura of inertia. Jimmy didn't like it. "Requiem, bloody depressing. I don't got to Church on Sundays to sing bloody hymns. Is this supposed to be a night out?"

But the soloists were the salvation. Ingeborg Danz (ms) and Alfred Reiter (bs) were okay, and Carolyn Sampson and Mark Padmore were gorgeous. Really gorgeous.

Now, let me look at the professional reviews...

Telegraph

On Sunday night, Philippe Herreweghe, conducting the Collegium Vocale Gent and the Orchestre des Champs-Élysées, proved to be the right man at the right moment. Mozart's Symphony No 39 had impetus, clarity and healthy rhythms. And then with a front-rank quartet of soloists in Carolyn Sampson, Ingeborg Danz, Mark Padmore and Alfred Reiter, the performance of Mozart's Requiem was lean in terms of articulation but well-fed with spirituality and humanity.

Sort of what I said, really.

And the Times, kind of quite different from what I said, but I think we agree, broadly.

The Independent

The Requiem came over as reverential but not urgent. Symphony 39 bounced along nicely but a reconstruction of Mozart's anguished Masonic Funeral Music using men's voices in the plainchant, was a damp squib.

And I'm not out of kilter with Simon writing in omh, whom I'd chatted to before the concert.

So, after all, I'm not going mad and suffering from overMozart.

Most of my 2006 Promming has been done from the sofa or computer chair and I have been trying to catch most things if I'm in. It was quite a little Mozart feat this week. Tuesday's was all nice and pleasant but did rather serve to confirm my view that one can have too much of the boy Mozza, or indeed the man Mozza. It's all these symphonies. The thing is, they're all very nice, but after a while, the niceness has one yearning for a bit of Beethoven or Wagner mood and gloom, dark psychotic forces at work.

Or maybe some jazz-type stuff. Now, I don't like jazz, but this was televised on Wednesday night and I remembered my vow that I would try and catch as much as possible. Charlie Hazlewood conducting and presenting for TV. Is there no end to his talents?

I love that Ibert Divertissement, one of the best pieces that has been in the Proms all season. So far. I would have sworn that I knew neither the composer nor the music but once the band started playing it was very familiar. Hmm.  The Weill and the Gershwin were lovely, and would probably appear on my compilation "Now That's What I Call Crossover" but I'm afraid the obligatory 'new' piece was a load of wank and toss, like just about every 'new' piece I have heard this year (Magnus Lindbergh aside). I'm sorry, maybe I'm getting old, but it's just NOISE. Sort of makes me yearn for 21st Century pop music.

By Thursday night I was feeling a lot more disposed towards Mozart. the Andante from Piano Concerto 21 had enticed me on my mp3 player as I sat on the train and Soave sia il vento had wooed me as I walked through Sheffield City Centre. So I was more up for 23 piano by the evening, especially as it was accompanied by a rather splendidly large Symphony Orchestra that also played the large Bruckner.

So by this evening I didn't know what to think.

The Mozart 25 was very nice, very lively, taken at a spanking pace. Great piece of music? No, I don't think so, when you consider how many Mozart works are better. A lot of people wrote better symphonies. But I do like it. Not a contendah for Gert's Top 100, though.

Hanspeter Kyburz's Noesis was undoubtedly the worst piece of amusical pretentious rubbish I have heard in the Proms all season, up against some pretty stiff competition. I have decided that the idea of violins and cellos being made to sound like saws is not music, it's sound effects and doesn't belong on a concert platform. I'm going to buy Jimmy some wax crayons and he's going to scribble meaninglessly on the back of a cereal packet and enter it for the BBC4 Proms art competition, saying it was inspired by Noesis.

The Debussy was boring, but I expected that of Debussy.

So it was a relief when Mozart 40 came on and was taken at a spanking rattle. First movement 'made famous by ringtones the world over'. Second movement, quite possibly one of the very greatest orchestral movements ever written. Oh god yes, I've just remembered, Mozart was an utter fucking genius. Thank you, Sir Simon,  for reminding me of this fact I shouldn't have forgotten. I should of course have read my own blogpost from when I heard it in January. Maybe I should have studied the programme notes, been prepared. but what a glorious beautiful surprise to have that gorgeous music floating away from the TV and into my soul.

Just over a week to go. Sunday is Beethoven 9. Don't know any of the soloists, not that that necessarily matters. It's Beethoven's 9th. Then Monday is Beethoven 5 and Tchaik 5. Both on BBC4. Some massive orchestral forces at work all week, and we have a final Mozart-orgy on Friday with another of his excellent symphonies, and his fantastic C minor Mass, finishing with an unusually attractive Last Night, with a heavy Russian theme. I think we can all safely say we are greatly looking forward to the Mr Haughty-Russkie letting his magnificent hair down for Land of Hope and Glory and Auld Lang Syne. I hope he won't glare when people let off the dissonant party horns.

When was the last time we had a tenor at the Last Night? I think we're about due to have a tenor next year.

Le nozze di Figaro

I went to a performance of this at the Royal Opera House on Thursday evening. I thoroughly enjoyed it, perhaps more than I enjoyed my previous attendance in February, even though objectively the cast was marginally better in February.

On the way there I was a bit stressed out. I had a standing ticket, in the balcony, and I was a bit anxious as to whether I would be able to tolerate standing for the entirety of a fairly lengthy opera. But I got extremely lucky, in that the seat next to my standing place was still empty when the house lights went down, so I snagged it. Ironically, the view from my original standing place was probably less obscured than the seat in which I ended up, especially considering that the man in front of me was of above average height and seemed to have a rather large head.

The worst aspect of the evening was some of my immediate neighbours in the audience, who were clearly tourists, and gave a distinct impression of having not the slightest idea about what they were they were seeing, and, more to the point, a noticeable absence of self-awareness and awareness of how to behave in public. The chortling at every surtitle was mildly irritating; the talking during the quiet bits was boorish and solipsistic.

But the worst aspect was minutes from the end, the surtitle screen displayed, "Countess, forgive me..." and they all rolled around laughing as it was the funniest line ever written. This just proved their collective utter pre-ignorance of the opera (which, in itself, is highly forgivable) but it seems strange to me that anybody could have sat through the previous three hours and find the Count's begging for forgiveness to be funny. I could describe it many ways, but it would never occur to me to laugh. But the thing is, this is one of the most sublime  moments in the Western musical canon, achingly beautiful music made more achingly beautiful by the context of everything that has gone before. So there was quite a lot of irate shushing from music lovers. Yahoo Group members can hear the finale here; non-members can apply for membership here (this is a formality; it's just a means to try and avoid spam). This is from the Jacobs' set

I did not make the mistake of 'studying' the opera beforehand. As it is my favourite opera*, I know it better than just about any other. I have so many different versions on vinyl, cassette, video, CD, and DVD there is no 'definite' version in my head. This means that as long as it is performed competently, it would be difficult not to enjoy it.

I have now seen the production 'live' twice with largely different casts, and have seen the televising about three times, and I have to conclude that it is brilliant; a production that good deserves to stay in the rep until I've got my Bus Pass and be performed nearly every year.

It's invidious to compare one cast with another, but with it being just about five months since I saw the first cast, it's difficult not to make comparisons. But I want to stress that neither cast contained a weak link, and contained no one I wouldn't wish to see again in the roles that they played.  As Figaro, Kyle Ketelsen was good but not great. Fine voice good acting, and well deserving of enthusiastic applause. But his performance only served to illustrate just how fine a performance Erwin Schrott had given in February. I'm afraid Kyle was lacking in the areas where Erwin's strengths shone through - beauty of voice, stage presence and sheer sexy charisma. I was chatting with someone in the interval who shared this view and nearly went into palpitations when I mentioned that Erwin will be Don Giovanni next season. Soile Isokoski was outstanding as the Countess, a rich and gorgeous voice. I had enjoyed Dorothea Roschmann in this part in February but had found her voice a bit patchy. I loved Soile's voice and would love to hear her more, but she doesn't appear in London very often.

I thought Sophie Kochs was a bit too feminine for Cherubino, slightly preferring Rinat Shaham's portrayal, but slightly preferring Sophie Kochs' voice. So, a score draw there. I preferred Miah Persson's February Susanna, finding Isabel Bayrakdarian's voice to be uneven and her stage presence less.  But I wouldn't hesitate to see her again.

We had a couple of long-term favourites, Robert Lloyd and Diana Montague as Bartolo and Marcellina, and although it was a shame we had lost the splendid Philip Langridge as Don Basilio, John Graham-Hall was good enough in the part. I can't say I was sorry that the Final Act lost the arias for Marcellina and Don Basilio. bloke waving stick was David Syrus. A few people commented that the orchestra lacked 'oomph' and I'm not inclined to argue,  but it was far from lacklustre.

The Count was played splendidly by Gerald Finley. Every time I see him I adore him more. I love his voice, which I find to be nearly perfect, full of understated nuanced expressionism and, at times, sheer beauty. But I also think he is a formidable actor, and I think I have said before that his portrayal of the Count is a performance that Timothy West would be proud of.  You feel like saying "Have you ever had one of those days?", and as he stalks around getting more frustrated, confused and impotent you wonder why Mozart didn't write a Mad Scene (except that a mad scene would be OTT).  Those of you who know the production will know the part in Act II when he flings the axe across the Countess's bedroom. In a spectacular piece of furniture abuse, his axe, flying frighteningly across half the width of the stage hit a dressmaker's dummy sending it crashing to the floor. I did wonder what would happen when Figaro and Antonio attempted to enter through the bedroom door, but, of course, the servants were all eaves-dropping, and had heard it fall, so one had the sense to pick it up before mirth and woe  ensued. I asked him afterwards whether that was intended, and he admitted that it wasn't - he was just trying to make the Count seem angry. Gerald, trust me, the count seemed angry.

I love Marriage of Figaro so much. As I'm enjoying one section of music I'm tingling with excitement at the prospect of the next aria, duet or ensemble that's coming. I was thinking of highlighting my favourite moment, but I realised that it would be a list. So, instead I will single out Soile Isokoski's singing of the ineffably beautiful Porgi amor, and the very last minute when the entire cast is singing at the front of the stage, wishing us joy and peace, and the auditorium lamps come alight. I could see the goose-pimples on my arms.

I did have a thing going of reviewing all operas I own in alphabetical order, but it seems to have fallen into abeyance. I really need to revive this. If I do one a week, I ought to get to Figaro in October. Perhaps with the World Cup (almost) over and a downturn in live performances, I might make more of an effort.

* people often ask why a tenor nut has Figaro as her favourite opera, and it is a delightful paradox which I don't wish to over-analyse except that perhaps I am saved from waiting with excited but fraught anticipation for the show-stopping tenor showpiece arias...

Mozart Marketing Rip Off

Nephew #2 look away...now

Baby Mozart. You've seen it advertised.  You've heard a track from it introduced on Classic FM as "Also suitable for adults..."

Before the infamous Baritone Stalking Night the other week, SOSSLED had a meet-up in the Royal Opera House shop, where mayhem was caused. Among the objects of derision were CDs that varied on the theme of Baby Mozart. We mocked, we derided.

Your intrepid blogger found herself in HMV today and discovered that the Best Mozart Album in the World contains just about all the tracks that Classic FM's Baby Mozart does, and in total has 45% more tracks, at 40% of the price. All those poor kids being given Baby Mozart will have to get rid of their CD packaging before they start school, let alone University. Meanwhile the child with the aunt who hates marketing exploitation can keep his until CDs are completely obsolete.

How utterly cynical are these marketing companies. And how suckerish are the people buying them.

You can also get Mozart for Mums. I was not sure whether Mum is supposed to play this when she is:

a) being tender with child(ren)
b) chauffering child(ren) to myriad activities including School Run
c) desperately trying to cook and clean in between said activities
d) supervising homework and reprimanding child(ren)
e) holding down a responsible job
f) collapsing wih the gin bottle at the end of the day
g) being her own person and appreciating music for its own sake

Or, indeed, whether it's also suitable for Mums of grown-ups.

A load of Mums are going to get this for Mother's Day when, secretly, they'll be thinking, I actually wanted the Horn Concertos. Or Arctic Monkeys.

Another Figaro review

I never realised that Socialist Worker did reviews of operas. Well, not from the Royal Opera House, anyway

...Mozart’s most overtly political opera...The struggle against aristocratic privilege it depicts clearly foreshadows the great French revolution of 1789.

The opera is filled with a sense of indignation against class rule and it expresses the 18th century Enlightenment’s optimism – the possibility of progress and a new, more just society.

Although there is an occasional commenter here whose partner has suggested selling copies of Socialist Worker in the Vilar Floral Hall.

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...

Nozze di Figaro

Interview with David McVicar. Definitely worth a read. And I am so looking forward to Figaro. I'm seeing it Saturday. And twice in July.

Mozart by numbers

I knew I had a ticket to a concert tonight; looking at the ticket, and what it was advertising, I realise I must have bought it  in about July.

At work I checked on the South Bank website and groaned. Mozart, Mozart and Mozart. I am just about out-Mozarted. I looked at what CDs I had with me: three Mozarts, and an Arias compilation. I think I'll listen to the arias compilation. "Il mio tesoro..." No! Not more bloody Mozart, not when I'm not expecting it. But by La ci darem la mano, I'm thinking, I do like Mozart.

I wasn't really sure what the programme was. Just things with numbers. A Rondo,  a Piano concerto, and a Symphony. I think I guessed which Symphony it was. a clue on the website about it being the one - along with Beethoven's Fifth - with the most familiar opening. "Ringtone!" I exclaim, being such a post-modernist Twenty First Century girl.

It was the Philharmonia, with Mikhail Pletnev directing from the piano. In the first half, anyway - he conducted the Symphony from the Podium.

All the pieces were familiar to me, the piano concerto and symphony extremely so, the Rondo more so than most pieces of non-vocal music by most composers.

Listening to the Rondo for piano and orchestra in D, K382 and Piano Concerto No 20 in D minor, I couldn't help thinking, this is nice music, pleasant little melody, but perhaps it's about time I got over Mozart and graduated onto more grown-up music. Perhaps those nay-saying experts are right. It's easy-listening salon music, nothing profound. As far as I could tell, the pieces were executed perfectly, technically speaking, and although the music drew me into concentration and contemplation, assisted by a wonderfully well-behaved audience, I didn't feel moved emotionally in any way.

Second half, Symphony No 40 in G minor K550. Come on, you know the one. The one that's on Ringtones. Hooked on Classics, hit the charts in '82. Dededuh dededuh dededuhdurr,  Dededuh dededuh dededuhdurr, Dededuh dededuh dededuhdurr,  dededuh duh duh Dur Dur...Clichéd and trite, I quickly concluded. I'm well Mozarted out, am I really looking forward to Le Nozze di Figaro on Saturday?*

And then something happened to me. I heard this extraordinarily familiar extraordinary piece of music in a way I have never heard it before. I had never previously noticed that it is not scored for timpani - and you'd think I'd notice something like that. But it doesn't need timpani, because of the way it's written, with low strings providing the backbone that any decent symphony needs.

Then I noticed some extraordinary things happening in the woodwind. I am not a great fan of the flute, and for two dozen years I have clung to the belief that Mozart didn't like the flute (except of the Zauber variety, of course). I read it in a book in the school library, and when you're fourteen and you've worked your way through a text book, you know everything in it is true. Even if does annoy the hell out of the flautists you know. And I knew a lot -  "Influenced by James Galway and Atarah Ben-Tobin", that generation.

I have always adored Wolfie's clarinet writing, even though I don't like the clarinet as an instrument as much as I love the oboe and, especially, the cor anglais. But I have never really thought of this as a clarinet piece, certainly not in the same way as I think of the Clarinet Quintet and Concerto, and Cosi fan Tutte.  But something very special was happening in the Philharmonic woodwind section this evening. Kudos to Paul Edmund-Davies, Principal Flautist, and my star of the evening. That was one Zauber Flote! What an amazing dialogue with the strings.

I was thinking that the strings were not at their best (or was this the acoustics of the Queen Elizabeth Hall, a venue I'm not overly familiar with?), sounding a bit like a vinyl record with fluff on it. And then they did something. It suddenly struck me, in Wagner's Tristan und Isolde there's a passage of manic violins that, surely,was directly influenced by the fiddles in this.

Overall, probably a 6/10 evening. I'm glad I went, but I might have looked back on it a bit dismally if it wasn't for the beauty of the woodwind and especially the flute. I know that when I listen to Mozart's Symphony No 40 in future, I shall do so with a more profound understanding of the music. Especially the gorgeous second movement.

Can I just say to the woman behind me, you seemed like a very nice person, so I desisted from saying anything, but please, dear, next time, a bit less perfume. I am not especially sensitive to perfume, but I did find that it was irritating my throat and nearly made me sneeze. I don't mind really, but if I had sneezed it may have ruined the music for other  people. And, I'm afraid I would have had to explain that it was your perfume.  I did check discretely with the man next to me. He used the word 'pungent'.

*Silly question, of course I am...

Happy Mozart Day

This entry is a bit of  a link log:

and a sticky post

09:04 Currently playing on the Gert Cottage CD player:

Austria celebrates Mozart at 250

You The Critic:Mozart

VOTE: Your favourite Mozart piece

Mozart: the singers' perspective - Gerald Finley and Philip Langridge tell us, in their own words, what sets Mozart apart from other composers.

UK TV highlights:

BBC4 Mozart 250 at 1900-2000; and 2300 - 0400

Artsworld has various Mozart from 1900-2220 and Performance is 'launching the first of a series of own-brand productions with a documentary exploring the musical secrets that underpinned the genius of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.' Blimey...

Google has noticed

Mozart, bravissimo!

A little on the younger son, Franz Xaver Mozart (neither of Wolfie's surviving sons had children)

Damn, to think that we satisfied ourselves a couple of years ago  that Mozart never had a blog. Turns out he does. Seems to be struggling a bit with bandwidth at the moment.

Why Radio 3 isn't scheduling Mozart (or any excuse for the Murdochian Empire to attack the BBC)

Even the Mirror has a Mozart story

The Official Mozart2006 blog - in German

And Nannerl's blogging, too

A monk blogs on Mozart

Mozart, our birthday gift

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Hacker...well, put that way...

It's Mozart's 250th Birth Anniversary!

Mozart's Mother

Mozart Day

Mozart dot com

Mozart's Paris Connection

11.30: Currently listening to:  Buy it, it's ace. Not yet available on Amazon, I read somewhere that the offical release day is 30 January. But that would be silly, because today is Mozart Day. And I got it through my letter box on Wednesday. Read my review of the connected concert

Happy Birthday to Johann Chrysostom Wolfgang Theophilus Mozart, with mp3s

The US-based National Public Radio has a Mozart special

Mozart Day

A Primer on Getting to Know Mozart

Wikipedia, with mp3s

Nicholas Kenyon's Must Have Mozart

The Classical Station seems to be playing Mozart all day.

The Mozart Project

Mozart: whatevs?

Various Mozart posts

The Wellsungs have some nice mp3s

And then there's the UKblogging Marriage of Figaro debate

Then I played Exsultate Jubilate again

14:22 now playing - although I have an earlier slightly different edition of this one...Someone once phoned me up and, hearing this, apologised for getting me out of the bath. Funnily enough, I had got out of the bath just before she had phoned. And she didn't even know me - councillor's casework...!

1700: Now playing a CD of Symphonies 29 and 40. On a CD which is obviously  a poor relation of Naxos; but damn fine interpretations by the Camerata Academica Salzburg under Bernhard Paumgartner. Oh, Salzburg....

Toujours Mozart

And absolutely nothing to do with Mozart, but today is also the 105th anniversary of Verdi's death

 

Play that magic flute, babe...

Quiz: Is this Mozart or not?

I don't how many of you remember "NameThat Tune". I always was and always will be utter rubbish at it, because there are few tunes that I can name out of context. And quickly. I may well be able to sing the next umpteen bars. But name the tune? Not on your nelly

But this just gives you a multi-choice quiz as to who composed it. Sadly, no bonus points for speed of response. I got 10/10. But I'm ace like that *

This week is Mozart week in Gert Cottage. Indeed it's Mozart week all over the world

At home or at work I have played nothing but Mozart be it on CD or DVD (or VHS). On Friday, I wonder if I can stay up through the night to watch BBC4, who are, amusingly and very irritatingly, doing highlights of 24Hours Mozart and Radio 3 is barely even dedicating the day to him. But unless something else dramatic happens, Friday will be Mozartmania all the way of mmofm

* or the quiz is really easy!

Così fan tutte

Last night at the English National Opera was Mozart's Così  fan Tutte. Perhaps you might wish to read this in conjunction with my visit to Covent Garden last autumn and a review of a Zurich production last month.

The cast was:
Fiordiligi - Cara O'Sullivan
Dorabella - Anne Marie Gibbons
Ferrando - Gregory Turay
Guglielmo - Mark Stone
Don Alfonso - Robert Poulton
Despina - Lilian Watson

Conductor - Edward Gardner

It is simply beautiful. Right now I am thinking it might just be Mozart's best opera - and this from someone who has asserted for years that Le Nozze di Figaro is the best opera written, ever.

I would say that it is an example of some of the most Mozartianly beautiful writing that Mozart ever wrote, of which Soave sia il vento is really up there as gorgeously sublime.

Cosi fan tutte

  Zurich Opera under Nikolaus Harnencourt.

I saw this live last autumn in a performance that was superior all round.

I watched this last week, and wrote notes on my Palm whilst sitting on the sofa. I draft posted the entry with the intention of sprucing it up and making it cogent, but reading through it, I think the desultory, fragmented nature of the post reflects my rather uninterested attitude when watching this actual video.

My problem with this is that there seems to be acting and singing going on at the same time, but in a disassociated way. None of the male singers has a voice of any beauty - at least as they sound here. And whether it's inherent, or the way they're directed, but they just seem two-dimensional cyphers of characters.

When I saw it at Covent Garden, there was a lot of laughter.

Much too much standing around and bel canting, except that it isn't especially bel.

The music as written is really quite gorgeous, but in this video it sounds quite screechy. Except for Cecilia. It isn't the best example I have of her, but it's worth watching for her

Soave il vento - trio, gorgeous as written. Shame about Don Alonso. In fact, generally shame about Don Alonso who seemed to bark through it. Dorabella a ham actress. Or ham directed, I'm not sure. I don't think the singers were particularly helped by the tempi often been on the slow side. This was noticeable, for example, during Come scoglio, one of my favourite Mozart arias. Considering that she's basically singing about standing firm as a rock, a languid tempo seems nonsense. What should be a rallantado becomes a dirge. During the finer colaratura bits in the second part CB is struggling for breath. Still, she's get a good few cheers from the audience.

Whereas Mr Bland Pretty Boy singing Un'aura amoroso barely gets polite applause. This is another of Mozart's utterly gorgeous arias. By all accounts it's a bugger to sing, and he has an approximate relation with the pitch at times, partly again due to the funereal pace. A pace unsuited to the mood of the music and the meanings of the lyrics. Plus him frowning throughout.

Act 1 isn't over yet, and I'm groaning everytime Don Alfonso comes on screen. He's not funny, he's not manipulative, just boring.

There isn't actually a lot of dramatic action happening - much of the story revolves around the psychology. In brief, Don Alfonso bets the guys that the women won't stay faithful if they're away. So they pretend to go away, and come back disguised as Albanians and woo each other's women. When the women reject their advances, they pretend to swallow poison. The housekeeper, Despina, who's in on the joke arrives disguised as a mesmeritist and magically revives them.

Act 2 Another evening, another act

It's such gorgeous music that I've booked to see it next month at ENO. There is no way that the production can be worse than this one.

Philosophically, some people have a problem with this, assuming that it is misogynous - it translates literally as "How all women are..." I have two objections to taking an overtly contemporary feminist view against operas, or indeed, drama, literature or art from historic times. Firstly, their creators are the products of their time. Guess what, neither Mozart nor Da Ponte were Guardian-reading 21st century feminists. And, if for argumemt's sake they were reasonably enlightened for their times, they would still reflect the reality of their age.

You could find it offensive that the purpose of this is to illustrate that women lack the capacity to be faithful. Yet it mentions that men do, too. You could conversely take the view that women were forced by economics and mores to marry. How sensible to marry any convenient halfway decent man. No point sitting around pining for some chap who might or might not come back from battle. Or maybe, we could remember how easily it is for practical jokes to go too far. Or perhaps, it's a lesson about not being taken in too much by charm. Maybe a lesson not to put your love to the test, and not to complain when you find it wanting.

Me, I love the music, but would rather a different cast than on this video, which I doubt I shall watch again for a long time.

Don Alfonso is a crooner, Ferrando a barker, and Guillermo has an insipid voice. Dorabella has a boring voice, and Despina an ugly one.

six other DVDs available. Opera Nights recommends  La Scala and Glyndebourne, and that EMI CD looks like a must-have.

La clemenza di Tito

If you are a fan of Figaro and Don Giovanni, don't watch this with an expectation of similar. In many ways it is more reminiscent of operas of an earlier era. For a start, it is set in Classical Roman times, in the reign of the Emperor Titus (quel surprise) and strikes me as being much heavier on recitative than Mozart's more famous works.

Watching it I assumed that it was fairly early in his career, but it actually came five years after Figaro, ten years after Idomeneo, and less than three months before his death.

Opera nights opines

Not considered one of Mozart's greatest operas, and although it contains some beautiful melodies the plot is rather feeble.

The first problem I had when watching it was with the 'trouser roles' which I found confusing. They are actually wearing skirt-like togas; you only really know that they're trouser roles because they're also wearing breastplates. My problem is that two of the four male characters were played by women. I wonder if originally they would have been castrati; nowadays a countertenor or high tenor would be more logical. Musically, I'm grateful for the women's voices, however, dramatically it detracts from the love scenes. And, also, I suspect that Tito's love - platonic - for Sesto would have had more impact if Sesto had been played by a man.

But perhaps I am looking for an explanation of the fact that, basically, the characters did not make sufficient of an emotional impact upon me for me to care. Whether that is a problem of this production or whether of the opera itself I can't say for sure. But just a little bit of surfing suggests the latter.

From time to time there are some superb Mozart moments, but I think there may be a bit too much of the recitative - the boring bits in-between - to make this a do not miss/desert island opera. I guess it would good to have on a highlights CD.

Even when the orchestra is playing non-recitative, I think it's rarely memorable. There are some fine moments eg some pleasant military music in Act I Scene ii, and in scene iii there is some lovely use of clarinet, reminiscent of his clarinet quintet which I love so much.

I imagine it would be worth seeing live. But I am not sure, considering all the other operas I have, and all the great and varied Mozart I have, whether life is long enough ever to watch this again.

Regarding this production, the staging almost inconsequential - some bland corporate setting. Although in Act II, Ancient Rome was hinted at by busts being littered randomly over the floor. I could not get into it emotionally.  I began to understand that this opera was about Tito being a just merciful ruler. The title ought to have been a give away!

Perhaps part of my indifference is that on the whole, the cast was full of unconvincing actors. Philip Langridge was tremendous as Tito but the rest were a bit cardboard. I don't have any complaints about the singing and especially enjoyed Diana Montague as Sesto.

I wonder whether it would be more enjoyable in a more inspired staging. Very little action, far too much standing and delivering.

This was a 1991 production from Glyndebourne with the London Philharmonic under Andrew Davis.

Earlier in the day, before I watched this, I had been listening to Haydn's Creation. When this video was finished, the tune that stayed in my head was from the Creation. "The new created world..." I think, in a sense, that sums it up. It came in a period of 48 hours that also featured Un ballo in maschera, Don Carlo and Salome, and of all these works, it is the least. In my opinion, La clemenza di Tito is probably only a C-list opera.

I recorded it off the Performance Channel, so it gets shown every few months.

Cosi fan Tutte

I had this booked up for Wednesday; then it struck me that I didn't know it very well. So I watched a version I have on video, and decided that I didn't like it very much. Still, I thought, can't really go wrong with Mozart.

And I had a really enjoyable night. It was light-hearted, and at times, downright funny. The single funniest moment was when Don Alfonso (played by Sir Thomas Allen)'s  mobile rang - with the Nokia tune played, in the style of Mozart, on the harpsichord!

There are those who say that Cosi fan tutte is sexist or even misogynist - it translates as 'How all women are'. This production (by the great Jonathan Miller) actually played it very much from a woman's standpoint, and there seemed to be hordes of young women on girls' nights out. My mate has a theory - you can really take offence at a lot of Irish folk songs, or you can say - there written by men about Stupid Men. And, indeed, opera, like Irish Folksong, is just littered with examples of Stupid Men.

Simple plot.

Offended by the misogynist remarks of their old friend, the philosopher Don Alfonso, Ferrando and Guglielmo agree to lay wagers on the outcome of a game he has designed to test the fidelity of their respective sweethearts, Dorabella and Fiordiligi. The two young men agree to obey the instructions of Alfonso (who has enlisted the help of Despina, the women's assistant): they feign a heartbroken departure to the front, only to return a few hours later disguised as dashing Albanians, eager to win the favours of the abandoned sisters. The young women put up an outraged defence of their virtue but before long they are yielding to the exotic advances of the strangers. The conspirators gradually become enmeshed by their own plot and are dismayed to find they are as susceptible as their victims. Events culminate in a double wedding and all four lovers discover that no-one is exempt from the secret inconsistencies of love.

- lifted directly from Royal Opera's website.

The plot was secondary to the music and, arguably, the words.  And the music, well, it's Mozart - what can I say? The most famous arias are Come scoglio and Un'aura amorosa, but the score is littered with delicious and delightful arias, duets etc all the way to sextets.

The cast wasn't especially star-studded, except for Thomas Allen. I've liked him for years - never in a major way, but I've got pleasure from his performances on TV. The rest of the cast was Charles Castronovo as Ferrando, Christopher Maltman (Gugliemo), Catherine Nagelstad (Fiordiligi), Kristine Jepson (Dorabella) and Nuccia Focile (Despina). It was a good ensemble that worked well together, all acting fine. I wouldn't single any of the voices out for special praise, but I would be quite happy to hear any of them again.

The set was quite minimalist, all in different shades of white, featuring just a few chairs, a sofa and some floor cushions. The clothes appeared to be the classier end of M&S, except for when Ferrando and Gugliemo were in disguise, one as a hippy and one as a heavy metal freak.

All in all an enjoyable and memorable evening.

The conductor was Stephane Deneve, who's just taken over as musical director at Royal Scottish National Orchestra. I was struck by his uncanny resemblance, particularly in the haircut department, to James Levine. Sort of Simon Rattle on acid.

Don Giovanni at ENO

I am a little bit annoyed.  At newspapers critics. I have come home from this and I am thinking what is all the fuss about? Musically, a solid if unspectacular performance. Good orchestra - at times the recitative sounded Baroque, which I have never noticed before in this. Good singing, little of it great, but definitely serviceable, and definitely worth going to hear.

The critics have gone on and on about the production, both now, and when it was originally staged in 2001. I have to say - I was underwhelmed. Critics talked of masturbation - well, some lary lads with too much beer inside them clutching their clothed-crotches; they mentioned urination - Leporello was standing against a wall his back to the audience,  obviously he was peeing, but it wasn't, you know, in yer face; and Don Giovanni stood behind a sofa and a stream of water appeared.

Apparently there was 'singing with genitals in mouth'.  That must have been when Donna Elvira stuck her head up Leporello's t-shirt. Of course it was meant to be a blow job, but if people are shocked by the acted simulation of something that appears to be a blow-job, purlease...It's called acting: it's what happens in theatres. Frankly, if I had had a small kid with me who had asked 'what's that lady doing to that man?' I would have said - she's putting her head up his t-shirt.

Oh and there was blood and violence - firstly when the Commendatore got brutally murdered - as written by Mozart/Da Ponte; then when Masetto got brutally beaten by Don Giovanni, as written by Mozart and Da Ponte.

So, the music was the beautiful score as written by Mozart. The narrative of the story was exactly as written by Da Ponte. Except at the very end, the story is that the Commendatore's statue comes to life and speaks to Don Giovanni, and then invites himself to dinner before dragging DG down into hell. In this production, it was the vodka bottle that spoke to DG (Oh how unreal, unlikely, ridiculous, unlike the statue of a dead man coming to dinner and dragging someone to hell...).

The settings and scenery were not as one would expect in a traditional production. Instead, the party at the end of Act 1 was held in a bar, as was the bit where DG and Leporello exchanged clothes, so that Leporello could seduce Donna Elvira; then Leporello (dressed as DG) was confronted by Donna Anna, Don Octavo, Zerlina and Masetto in the bar, which eventually morphed into DG's living room. Purists wouldn't approve, but I think it worked.

So, the shocking bits - Zerlina being so easily seduced by DG on her wedding day; DG and Leporello removing their clothes to change them in order to masquerade as each other. Come on, they didn't get naked, they had perfectly voluminous boxer shorts. But both of those are as written. I was trying to understand the deep meaning of the mobile phone going off, then I realised it was some arsehole in the audience.

There were bits that were disappointing - Leporello was portrayed as a fool, whereas I have seen productions where he manages to give the impression that he knows he's being used, he resents it but understands that he and DG have a symbiotic relationship. There are some who think that DG is a lech, a rapist and an all-round baddie; there are others who believe him to be one of those irresistible rogues who uses and discards women. I felt he was neither, just a young man from a posh school with a nihilist hedonistic self-centred attitude to life. Relevance to modern life? Of course - Don Giovanni can be seen down Clapham every Friday and Saturday night; Zerlina and Masetto's wedding party are usually hanging round Croydon Town centre.

About opera in general, a lot of people like traditional productions, because it's all nice costumes and lovely music, and there's no need to think too deeply, because the deeper message lies underneath. So many directors modernise a production in order to remind the audience that the creator of the opera - or the writer of the original novel - was saying something important about society, or history, or psychology. Unfortunately, despite the attempts of the programme notes to create a universal philosophical message, this didn't come out in the production. Basically, it was about some people being hedonistic, and others not. Which is fine. The music is fabulous.

Mark Stone as Don Giovanni took a while to warm up, and then he sang excellently. The portrayal was a bit two-dimensional I would concur with the Observer's he "reminded me of one of our young princelings out binge- drinking". Nice voice. I did like his La ci darem le mano, with Mary Plazas as an adequate Donna Elvira. It is one of my most favourite duets and I have exceedingly high-standards. Those standards weren't met, per se, but I was not disappointed. And his other showpiece arias, notably  the Champagne Aria and Deh, vieni alla finestra were memorable

Linda Richardson also took a while to warm up as Donna Anna, but she was, eventually, possibly the best singer. Her coloratura was especially fine especially in Troppo mi...Non mi dir, the bit where I most immersed myself in the music rather than in all the action going on.

Leporello was disappointing in the Madamina, il catalogo � questo, but otherwise was adequate. I felt that William Berger was weak as Don Ottavio, not that great a part anyway, but he clearly reserved his best for Il mio tesoro.

Previewing Mostly Mozart

The Observer | Review | It's not shocking - it's just awful - Don Giovanni, that is. Cosi fan tutte gets the thumbs up.

I am still reserving judgement until I've been...

Don Giovanni preview

'Hell is not under the stage' - feature on Director Calixto Bieito

His abrasive toilet-theatre style presents a certain challenge to the standard opera audience (to the performers too: it's hard to sing with someone else's genitalia in your mouth).

I'm going in a couple of weeks.

Le Nozze di Figaro

Tuesday night found me at the Barbican for a concert performance of this by René Jacobs and the Concerto Köln. On the whole the cast was not well known, with the possible exception of Angelika Kirschlager, who sang Cherubino. The other main parts were, on the whole, sang by youngish singers: Luca Pisaroni (Figaro), Rosemary Joshua (Susanna), Sophie Pondjiclis (Marcellina), Pietro Spagnoli (Count Almaviva) and Annette Dasch (Countess Almaviva).

There are few operas with which I am so familiar as Figaro. It was the first one I ever  saw live, and before I went I was able to listen to a highlights tape and a full length CD; I also have a video in the video cupboard. And it's Mozart. Almost impossible not to like.

The orchestra played on period instruments. I have a sneaking feeling that I am rather fond of period instruments, especially in the woodwind. I certainly liked the way they sounded on Tuesday. The programme notes contained a long musing by René Jacobs about the fact that Mozart didn't put any metronome marks in, so he plays the overture very fast, and Voi che sapete extremely slowly. but I didn't notice anything amiss about the tempi.

It really is sumptuously gorgeous music, and, thus, almost impossible to single out highlights. I love Non più andrai, but the bass failed to meet the exacting standards on my favourite version, sung by José van Dam, although he was good. The Countess was exquisite in Porgi amor. I think I am torn between Angelika Kirschlager's Voi che sapete (I have sort of liked her for a while without ncessarily being a big fan) and the gorgeous sextet, Riconosci in quest'amplesso, when Figaro learns he is the natural son of Marcellina and Bartolo.

A pleasant comedy, and although most people knew the plot, it didn't stop us laughing at the right places. But it is also a strong social satire.

And sumptuously gorgeous music...

PS The only think that disconcerted me was Ms Kirsclager's strong physical resemblance to my friend Kitty, the next MP for Burnley.

Mozart is God - discuss

I suspect that it is probably sacrilegious or even blasphemous to suggest such a thing. I suppose it's random how a cult becomes a religion. Can you imagine if all the world adopted Mozart as their religion, what a beautiful place the world would be?

More seriously, and without going into the depths of theological debate, I think that to listen to Mozart is to be convinced that there is a Greater Being in the universe. I don't think I have ever heard a piece of music by Mozart that is bad, and I would say that just about everything - certainly from the mature period - has the capacity to be extraordinarily moving. Is it the tunes, is it the harmonies? Tunes are just a random selection of notes. Harmony is just mathematics, you know. I was so brilliant at O Level Harmony.

So, how can these random notes and application of advanced calculus become magic? Trying to list favourite pieces is a challenge. I'll include that and that, but  then maybe I should I list that, and it ends up being il catalogo e' questo.

So, here is the catalogue of Mozart I really like, even more than the rest:

• L� ci darem la mano, from Don Giovanni - I particularly love a version I have on video of The Gold and Silver gala from Covent Garden where Plácido Domingo and Susan Graham sing it very very very seductively.
• Andante from Piano Concerto #21 in C _ amongst other versions in my collection is this one - track five.
• Clarinet Quintet - we did the first two movements as one of our set pieces for O Level - studying the score, and also looking into the life and work of Mozart. It was a fabulous way to revise. Basically. learn your notes with the music playing, then go into the exam and sing it yourself, and the facts come tumbling out. Guaranteed A grade. That is the reason I got into it. But I continue to like it because of its perfect structure, simple melodies
• Agnus Dei from Coronation Mass K317 (just before I became a councillor, a member of the electorate rang me up; this was playing and she said, 'oh no, I've disturbed you when you've just got out of the bath.' It didn't sound weird.)
• Laudate Dominum from Vesperae Solennes de Confessore K317 (the 'Amen ' alone is better than 99.99999999% of music).

I am publishing this now, even though there is much more Mozart to come, but I have recently changed my tactics to blog every disc, rather than just select the crème de la crème

I am currently listening to the highlights of Die Zauberflüte, which I bought a few years ago - I decided that I was going to improve my mind and get highlights of every opera on CD, but then I got side-tracked by a lack of time and money, the reason I had originally decided on highlights, rather than full...! A very weird opera - all based on Masonic symbolism and supposedly set in ancient Egypt. but for all its weirdness, the music is sublime.

The Genius of Mozart/Thank you, BBC

I watched the BBC2 documentary and also the performance of the Juipiter Symphony - I missed the talk through because I received a phone call from the future  New Zealand.

I think we can all agree that the Mozart presentations have been, well, patchy. However, I think a big huzzah should go out to the BBC for making and broadcasting them. And in tonight's programme Charles Hazlewood really communicated his passion.  A few days ago I saw an article called "The Mozart Myth Debunked".  I didn't bother reading it; no doubt it was some clever academic with is head up his arse trying to demonstrate that Mozart was, in fact, rubbish.

However, the wisdom of very many clever musicians, plus millions and millions of ordinary people who love music seem to come to that magical conclusion that Mozart was an absolute genius, who seems, uniquely, (I exclude even Beethoven) to speak directly to everybody. CH may have hit the nail on the head by saying how he incorporated his life experience into his music - there is no joy without sorrow, no love without grief.

His life story is fascinating: we touched on it at O-Level Music, then there was the vastly entertaining, if not necessarily accurate Amadeus. The story of four children dying in infancy - I tend to think that people in the olden days, just as in developing countries, are inured to such pain. That's ignorance, and arrogance, on my part.  He himself dying - younger than I am now - in poverty.

No one makes me think of spiritual matters, of God, of the afterlife, and Eternity in the way Mozart does.  Forget the dodgy and irrelevant parts of the Bible, forget the ridiculous pre-occupations of the corrupt hierarchy down the centuries. Concentrate on that spiritual and personal relationship with God; Mozart is the key to understanding spirituality.

Some people are vindicated or feel remorse in old age. I like to think that there is a possibility of awareness after death. And that somehow, somewhere, however metaphysically, Mozart knows the great esteem in which he is held.

For someone reason, I got it into my head the other day that he only wrote a few symphonies and operas, the odd piano concerto, and the Requiem. Which is rubbish. Tonight's programme included the Clarinet Quintet, which is one of those pieces that makes me wriggle with bliss, and that demonstrates the paucity of the words gorgeous, beautiful.  They also played an excerpt from his Mass in C minor, with its haunting Kyrie. I dug a CD out from the rack - Mass, C. Hmm, not what they played on the telly. Oh, wait, I'm playing the C major 'Coronation'  Mass (which has the best ever Agnus Dei), when I should be playing the Grosse Messe. So even my partial record collection contains three Mozart Masses.

Eine Kleine Nachtmusic, bought on a cheap tape of an ancient (mono) recording that Daddy and I went halves on in Woolworths in Brixham in 1984. CH demonstrated that you dismiss it as trivial at your peril. I had never articulated that it contains some very sad music, although my instinct has always recognised it.

So thank you BBC for a courageous bit of programming - and I so loved pressing the red button.

Also thank you BBC for the prompt response to the email I got around to sending today: