Gertsamtkunstwerk

Reviews

Guardian Review of Chicago ring

Zoe Williams on Brunnhilde the Suicide bomber - I'll reserve judgement until I see it. One thing I know for certain - the music's lush.

Interview with Marcelo Alvarez who opens in one of my very favourite operas Un ballo in maschera next week at Covent Garden. I shall be there, an dI'm getting increasingly exciting - opening night, go me. and next season, Cavaradossi alongside Angela Gheorghiou's Tosca, another of my very favouritest operas.

Fulsome praise of ENO's Twilight of the Gods, finishing with a hope for £1 million for a Cycle.

Muti resigns

Maestro Muti quits La Scala post

It's been quite a saga, all tied up in the politics of Milan (Forza Italia) with intervention expected from Berlusconi, with Maestro Muti pitted against ust about all the other employees of La Scala.

After his hissy fit in deserting the Royal Opera's staging of La Scala's dismal Forza, coupled with Workers' Rights, I feel a sense of satisfaction.

Hear the joke about Riccardo Muti being stranded in the desert. For days he walked, then stumbled, then crawled desperate for water. Finally, he came upon an oasis, and in the final stages of desperation, reaches into the pool, takes a handful of water. "At last!" he sighs, and puts it on his head, smoothing his hair, before checking his reflection in the pool.

A word to La Scala. Hands off Pappano!

Tenorino with dusky eyelashes

Actually, it's totally unfair to call him a tenorino, which is not a nice thing to say about this outstanding tenore di grazia. On the whole, I prefer my tenors' voices to be darker, but I like JDF enough to have two of his CDs and I want to see him again at Covent Garden. At 32, he is one of the younger of the 'New Golden Age' tenors gracing our stages. He has a very beautiful voice - 'bel canto', although this CD includes arias by the likes of Verdi, and he has said that he has no interest in going into Verdi - his schedule for the next year includes Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini. There's no one who sings this repertoire like him.

I saw him in Don Pasquale last December, an opera I never got round to reviewing on here, which was silly of me, because it was delightful. But I did do a quick summary elsewhere:

I have recently come back from this at the ROH. To be honest, I was feeling tired from the culmination of two much hecticness so wasn't able to appreciate it as much as I ought to have done.

(I thought a few months ago that I didn't know this, but it is imprinted fairly well on my brain from  years ago)

I didn't feel that the orchestra was at its best. I've read poor reviews here, and elsewhere, about the conductor, so I base my conclusions on that...!

I was very much impressed by Tatiana Lisnic as Norina, both singing and acting. I'll definitely want to hear her again.

I thought Simone Alaimo to be okay, nothing special.

I really can't make my mind up about Juan Diego Florez. For some of the time I was thinking - "better on record than in the house" than I would hear the most beautiful sound and revise my opinion.

I thought the duet in the final act,  Tornami a dir che m'ami, was
exquisitely beautiful, and I just wanted to sigh afterwards. The house was very lacklustre, and I was surprised at the meagre, almost begrudging applause at this part.

I really enjoyed the staging - perhaps this is the girlie in me but I so loved the dolls' house. I am not sure about JDF's blonde wig. the woman next-but-one wailed to me at the end "Juan Diego's so gorgeous and it's not fair they put him in that wig..."

But I managed to get a fairly okay photo. All I can say is that my shots are improving. This from Row A of the amphitheatre.

Back to the Great Tenor Arias. This CD contains two of my favourites anyway - La donna è mobile, and, as it's called here J'ai perdu mon Euridice - I actually prefer Kathleen Ferrier's 'What is Life?', but he certainly does a beautiful rendition. Of the less familiar, I particularly like Loin de son amie vivre sans plaisirs from Halévy's La Juive and La speranza più soave già quest'alma lusingava from Rossini's Semiramide.

I must make special mention of some fine orchestra playing of the Orchestra Sinfonica di Milano Giuseppe Verdi under Carlo Rizzi.

This CD is of Bellini and Donizetti arias. I quite like these composers, but not quite as much I want to like them, if you get me. Donozetti's writing is beautiful, but, in the end, I am left thinking that it's beautiful in a very shallow way. And the title track is absolutely gorgeous...

The most perfunctory google will reveal a great number of fan sites of this special talent. But what this man is in desperate need of is a proper official website, not just one provided seemingly rather grudgingly by Decca. Many people regard him as physically irresistable. I don't, personally, but I would gladly watch him and look forward to many years in his company. Performance Channel show from time to time an open-air concert of his from Amsterdam. Definitely worth seeing.

Franco Corelli

An album I have from the EMI Classics 'Heroes' series. I have to say, he's no hero of mine, but I picked this disc up for a song, largely to hear why so many people on opera newsgroups rave about him.

After listening to this I am none the wiser. Oh, sure, he's good. But there's plenty of good tenors performing now. I don't want just 'good' in my collection. I want 'great', I want something that hits me in the emotions.  The nearest that I get to that with this is in Di quella pira from Trovatore, but it's not the best Di quella pira I have in my collection. I can't for the minute think what is, maybe I should do a competitive aria playing session of Di quella pira.

Unfortunately, whilst I was playing this, my other half emerged from the spare room and started going on about "What a beautiful voice! Oh I wish I could sing with my heart!" de gustibus Besides, he was drunk...

And Corelli had a lisp...

Victoria de los Angeles RIP

Spanish soprano de los Angeles dies

A voice I remember from childhood. A beautiful voice. Perhaps someone I was almost tempted to say 'I didn't know she was still alive'.

Nevertheless, sadness, although, IMO, sadnes is tempered by the knowledge that someone dying inhospital aged 81 after a short illness is not tragic.

I imagine there will be obits galore tomorrow and Monday.

The BBC have not yet seen fit to publish. Being more interested in some rapper being charged with violence.

1530 Update: As the BBC have still not published this two and a half hours after Reuters I have tried complaining, but their feeback server is "Temporarily Unavailable".

The Great Caruso

  Okay, the album is actually entitled "The Magnificent Caruso" but I decided to use the clichéd version...!

I acquired this album for just a couple of pounds in an HMV sale. It's  a strange thing. Bear in mind that Caruso died in 1921. All his recordings were made using the 'acoustic method' - singing in front of a large horn, connected to a recording diaphragm and cutting stylus, which cut a groove in a rotating wax disc. This had a restricted frequency response at the top and bottom of the spectrum, especially as far as the orchestra is concerned. Electrical recording developed in 1925, alas too late for Caruso. However, this set of recordings is made with the original Caruso sound track re-recorded in the 1930s over a modern orchestra. So not quite the original Caruso.

Do not under-estimate the impact Caruso had on recording history. as the sleeve note says "It is a moot point whether Caruso made the gramophone or the gramophone made Caruso" In his lifetime he earned nearly $2 million from sales of gramophones. This compilation includes operatic arias and crossover songs.

Fascinating information at The Enrico Caruso Page and Tenorland

Caruso was born in a seven story apartment complex in a working-class neighborhood in Naples, Italy. He was the 18th child out of 21, and the first to live past infancy, due to a cholera epidemic. His own survival through the epidemic was attributed to the breast milk of a “strong woman of high birth” who nursed him in place of his weak and sickly mother.

The historical context was back in 1904, very few people could afford to go to operas. they didn't have TV or radio back then, they had to make their own entertainment. Then the gramophone was invented and, suddenly, it was possible to have the world's greatest singer in one's living room. Something we all take for granted, but imagine what a revolution that was. Of course we have our hi-fis and SACD players and what-nots. They just had their gramophones.

And the voice? Well, I wouldn't recommend getting a Caruso CD if you don't have any other tenor aria CDs. You also have to get used to listening through the noise and hiss. Do I like the voice? Yes, very much. But I don't think that I could listen to this in preference to modern CDs. It's more for the phenomenon of listening to that voice, rather than for the sheer pleasure of sitting back and listening to a sumptuous tenor voice.

He smoked 60 cigarettes a day, and hung anchovy fillets round his neck as a talisman to protect his voice. He died of bronchial pneumonia aged 48.

And, by all accounts, he couldn't act.

Callas

I am slowly working through my collection of 'artist albums'.

Let it be said that Maria Callas was the greatest female singer of the 20th Century. Anybody with a penchant for collecting compilations in general and artist albums, of singers in particular, cannot really be without a Callas album. This one is the Very Best Of...

However, La Callas is also an acquired taste. I am not totally sure that I have acquired that taste. On opera newsgroups and forums she is the subject of more posts than almost any other singer. She was extraordinary - one of the first very first actor-singers, rather than the stand-and-deliver unbelievable school. Not that much visual evidence exists of her performances - the only opera on film is Act 2 from Tosca.

But you really have to listen to her to hear technique. To hear why the search for the 'new Callas' is endless and ongoing. But I wonder how much of her fame 27 after her death is about the disastrous relationship with Onassis, who dumped her the tragic Jackie. Oh you know it, all those Sixties icons.

There's a film out about her at the moment, Callas Forever. Rather mixed reviews. Some say that it's just Zeff's Opera Queen fantasy (Zeff is obsessed with Maria. Absolutely obsessed).

Just don't try listening to both CDs of the double set back-to-back.

Ducks, scared of a possible onslaught by Callas fans...

Carreras Live!

I booked this ticket a while ago, deciding that I really wanted to see Josep Carreras, but I had no idea what the programme would be.

To summarise, I'd give Josep an 8/10, but the programme - well, it was Christmas at the Royal Albert Hall with Jose Carreras and the Vienna Boys Choir (who also score at least 8/10) - no more than 4/10, if that.

The programme was unrelently Middle England, with Classic FM adverts prominent in the programme. Playlist below.

Mind you, I enjoyed it tremendously! When Josep first sung, I thought, 'oh no, I've paid all this money to hear one of my favourite singers and his voice has gone...'.  But he warmed up and sounded, generally, lovely. I say 'generally' because I was not impressed with his top - or lack of it, the straining to get some top notes (which wasn't helped by the faces he pulled as he strained!). But top notes aside, I loved listening to his voice! And I think he may have had a cold.

I was a bit thrown by the use of amplification. Okay, the Albert Hall is enormous, but from where I was sitting he really didn't need a microphone, especially as he let rip on some spectacular fortes. A really gorgeous voice, although far past his prime. I couldn't help thinking that he's aged somewhat, but when he smiled...ooh, what a smile!  Shame I didn't manage to capture one photo of him smiling!

As I walked out for the interval I overheard someone saying that they were disappointed he hadn't spoken to the audience. I guessed - hoped - that that would happen in the second half. But he didn't. I wasn't frightfully upset. He manages to convey sufficient charisma through singing alone.

I wondered how many of the people in the audience had been to Andrea Bocelli or are planning to see Russell Watson. It would be interesting to know their reactions, because although Bocelli and Watson are at the age to be at the peak of their careers, and Carreras is well past his best, I would be very surprised if the aforementioned bar-room crooners could perform a fraction as well as Carreras. There again, some people favour barroom crooners over a properly trained, supremely talented operatic tenor in full throttle.

Before I went out, I had, with mock-disdain, commented that, no doubt, there would be loads of fanatical adoring fans. Well, there were a good few, including quite a number queuing up to give him presents (it was his 58th birthday on Sunday). Much to the contempt of the obnoxious family in front of me, of course...!

The Vienna Boys Choir were delightful, and the orchestra - the City of London Sinfonia were very good.

I did notice an odd acoustic effect. I was sat in Stalls Left (block H) at about 90 degrees to the stage. The percussion was on the extreme left of the stage (as looked at from the audience), but I was entirely thrown as their sound appeared to come from the right.

 

Semele again

Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous...!

Musick by Mr Handel, libretto after Mr Congreve. I don't hink I've ever seen any plays by Congreve, but I thought I had. I had a brief 'thing' about Restoration Drama a dozen or more years ago, but got distracted, possibly by Accountancy studies. Sigh

Oh, and Congreve took it from Ovid's Metamorphoses, which are a hoot, especially in the original (trust me on this one...)

I am struggling to work out what was the best bit of a thoroughly enjoyable night. The music? The libretto/drama? The production? The set and costumes? The wonderful acting from the entire cast? The singing?

It was all good. Four more performances remain.

The music's Handel. The great thing about Handel, I reckon, is that if you like one piece of Handel, you're likely to like the rest. Not that they all sound alike, but Handel's Handel. A businessman.

The libretto is satirical, about the mistress of the King. In this case the King happens to be Jupiter, but as the programme notes pointed out, Kings have always had mistresses. It would have been tempting to draw ultra-modern parallels, but it was set in the 1950s. Incidentally, Juno - Jupiter's wife, goddess of marriage - was done up to look exactly like QE2. The synopsis seems complicated, but isn't - Semele, a mortal, walks out on her earthly marriage to be Jupiter's mistress. She begs him to appear to her as a god, rather than in mortal disguise, and that proves her destruction - the moral, of course being, be satisfied at being the mistress, don't aspire to being the wife (don't get ideas above your station...).

I think all the singers acted it well - special mention should go to Patricia Bardon as Juno/the Queen, and a very special mention to Janis Kelly as Iris. I had no complaints about the rest, either.

It is sometimes described as an oratorio, or a staged oratorio, but to me, a staged oratorio is an opera. It just seemed to work really coherently - no 'egh, what's that supposed to signify?' Some great little touches of sheer comedy. The sets were simple but effective - the weeding scene just chairs arranged either side of a red carpet. Much of the action taking place in Semele and Jupiter's bedroom, with just a bed, and lots of clothes strewn around. The choreographing of the chorus was excellent, and, again, it just seemed to work. The second act ended as darkness fell around the heavenly bedroom and it was really rather nice seeing the stars twinkling against a black background.

The clothes were really lovely - fifties style, the ladies mainly in satin, the men mainly in dinner suits, except for Jupiter, who was mainly in a cream lounge suit and brogues. I would think the costumes outstanding if I hadn't seen La Rondine last week.

And the singing! Perhaps the overall most satisfying singing I have heard at ENO all year. Not a weak link, at all. The minor parts did what they had to do at least competently, if not better. Personal dislike for me is the counter-tenor voice. I just don't like it. But I am sure that fans of counter tenors would have found Robin Blaze delightful. I wasn't frightfully keen on Anne-Marie Gibbons as Ino. Patricia Bardon sounded luscious as Juno, a rich contralto (or mezzo, I'm not quite sure). Ian Bostridge was a bit of a let down. He acted well, and clearly had a large fan club present. But at times, I thought his voice lacked colour, and was a bit generic.

But the total star was Carolyn Sampson. She was the reason I booked to see this, and she exceeded my expectations. To me, she has a a completely gorgeous voice. I have heard her sing Monteverdi, Beethoven, and Mozart in concert, and Handel on disc, but this was the first time I have seen her in an opera. As well as having a beautiful voice, she acts really well, and looks just great. The most memorable arias are Endless Pleasure, Endless Love at the end of Act 1 - very slinkily sexy without vamping it up; O Sleep Why Dost Thou Leave Me? in Act 2 and Myself I Shall Adore in Act 3. But lots of more good stuff. I'm so tempted to rush out and buy a CD, but I so hope that maybe Chandos could do a recording starring Carolyn. I think I'm a bit of a fan!

There was a pause - not an interval - between Acts 1 and 2, and a rathe rhigh numbe rof latecomers were admitted, resulting in much shuffling, and a general hum of conversation. The orchestra began and the woman next-but-one said, audibly, "There doesn't seem to be any spare seats" so, irritated, I did a loud sharp shush and the netire centre of the Upper Circle shushed instantly. Go me!

At the interval, I went down to the main doors, glass in hand, and I was told 'no glasses outside'. I grumbled 'It's a different rule every week, it makes life so exciting' and smiled at the door staff. One of them pointed out they had some plastic glasses, so I grinned happily and said "You are truly wonderful people!" When I had finished my cigarette she waved me in without checking my ticket!

Semele

Reviews in the Times and Guardian

gorgeous to look at and listen to, it is also rather shallow, a romp rather than a morality tale...Carolyn Sampson sings Semele with beguiling facility, style and beauty, adding her own roulades to Handel’s already extreme demands, pinpointing every note of the coloratura and doing it all with liquefying sexiness...This is a great performance... Ian Bostridge’s Jupiter gradually unbends to deliver the sweetest soft legato, Patricia Bardon’s Juno is hilariously fiery as the (literally) queenly betrayed wife, and Janis Kelly camps Iris up something terrible.

After a languid start, Laurence Cummings, conducting, brings real Handelian sensibility and drama to the orchestra, and the chorus has a fine time undressing, drinking and indulging in some of Handel’s loveliest music.

The revival is also hampered by the miscasting of Ian Bostridge as Jupiter - a cleanly sung performance, but too anodyne to be engaging. Bardon is fabulous, all fire-breathing coloratura and fury, while Carolyn Sampson's Semele is by turns languidly erotic and petulantly manipulative. Laurence Cummings's conducting and the orchestral playing are both immaculate.

I'm going tonight, mainly for Carolyn Sampson. I shall, of course, blog it.

The Art of Cecilia Bartoli

We are officially a Cecilia Bartoli supporting household here at Gert Cottage, although at least half of the residents may - or may not - be just as interested in her cleavage as in her voice. Allegedly.

I have a few DVDs featuring Ms Bartoli - Barbiere, which overall I'm not overly keen on, but she's good; Don Giovanni, which is good but not brilliant, but a certain resident of Gert Cottage thinks that her bossy portrayal of Donna Elvira is reminiscent of another resident of Gert Cottage. Allegedly. And Cenerentola, where she is ace.

So this CD is a must for the Gert Cottage collection. Some people don't like her. Possibly because she is marketed and popular . Others have referred to her machine-gun colatura. I can see what they mean - I happen to like it.

This CD has some of the most gorgeous packaging of any in my collection. The actual case is a triptych, with five of the six sides featuring portraits of Cecilia looking sultry, alluring and beautiful, and the sixth is a track listing. On the middle of the inside is glued a transparent plastic disc holder, and tucked into the inside left is a 64-page booklet, containing a four-language narrative and the words to the arias in four languages. It is amongst the favourite packaging of my entire CD collection. The cover of the booklet features more gorgeous photos of Cecilia

Did I mention that I like Cecilia? Her repertory is interesting, going from Baroque through to Bel Canto. Her last CD was of Salieri arias. I understand that opening night (7 December, of course) of the refurbished La Scala will feature her in a Salieri opera, which seems an extraordinary choice. No Salieri on this, but it does feature in, I think, chronological order, Handel, Vivaldi, Gluck, Mozart, Rossini, Donizetti and Verdi. There is a not a track I dislike on the entire CD.

What do I like about Cecilia. She has a rich voice - a good sweet top, and her lower register is gorgeously burnished. Her enunciation is clear and precise. Her colatura is - okay, machine-gun is the only expression that really fits. I like it. A lot of people don't like the soprano voice. There are some I really like, and the rest I detest, even when objectively I know that they are *good*. If you have been put off by sopranos by the yelling and screaming at the top of the register, I would recommend mezzos. Through the history of recording, and in the present day, there are any number of mezzos to choose from. But you could do a lot worse than to get this CD. In addition to solo tracks she does one with David Daniels - top counter-tenor; Luciano Pavarotti - once upon a time the world's second best tenor; and Bryn Terfel - every housewife's favourite bass-baritone. Indeed, Cecilia and Bryn  is almost definitely my second favourite La ci darem le mano in my entire collection. And La ci darem le mano is quite possibly my joint favourite duet of all time. 

In fact I am about to go off a digression here - I have just decided that La ci darem le mano is the best thing ever that Mozart ever wrote.  Of course, I can change my mind any time I want. But for now...!

Actually, I would go as far as to say that Pavarotti singing 'Una parola, o Adina...Chiedi all'aura' from Donizetti's L'elisir d'amore sounds positively lovely. Fortunately, on Traviata's Libiamo, he's back to that usual voice that I keep thinking is very good but don't really like.

Ten Tenors

This evening to the Festival Hall, for a Tenors Gala Concert. I booked the ticket, then looked at the list, and realised I had only heard of one, then the list changed, so that made it two, then when I arrived at the Royal Festival Hall, there was a different list again. I am posting this partly for posterity, to look back in five, ten years, and see where they are then.

To be honest, I was lucky I arrived. Signalling problems at Tooting Broadway made me change my plans, and in the end it took me an impressive forty minutes to get from Brixton via Vauxhall via the entire length of Waterloo concourse, in a pair of boots I realised, when level with Platform 8, are not really designed for walking. and have a wobbly heel to boot.

Digression over.

The ten tenors were led by José Cura an established star in the firmament, although a fast fading one, and one who rather fancies himself as a conductor.

The other nine were:

• Dante Alcalá from Mexico
• Kostyantyn Andreyev, 33, from Ukraine
• Gustavo Casanova, from Spain
• Adrian Dwyer, possibly Australian
• Woo Kyung Kim, 27, from South Korea
• Dmitri Korchak, 25, from Russia
• Ronald Samm, British
• Juan Carlos Valls, from Uruguay
• Dmitri Voropaev, 27, Russian but from Azerbaijan

Those whose ages weren't given in the programme were of much the same age - Valls looked barely out of school. So these are potentially the up-and-coming generation. With one exception they all sang two arias, Maestro Cura included. There were also four orchestral pieces, and a final ensemble Brindisi as an encore.

The programme was (with my notes scribbled on the programme as aide-memoire - incidentally, my gut feeling was generally backed up by the level of applause, whistles, bravos etc): breathe in

• Recitar...Vesti la giubba (Pagliacci) - Leoncavallo: Cura
• Intermezzo (Pagliacci) - Orchestra
• Dies Bildnis ist bezaubernd schön (Zauberflöte) - Mozart - Dwyer - thin voice but good diction and charm
• Dalla sua pace (Don Giovanni) - Mozart - Voropaev - Wow! Gorgeous tone; beautiful leggiero sound
• Ah, la paterna mano (Macbeth) - Verdi - Kim - pleasant, dark tone, faultless
• Niun mi tema! (Otello) - Verdi - Samm - looks like Otello, sounds like Otello, a baritonal sound, swallowed a few notes, but thus far, the most convincing facial actor
• Dei miei bollenti spiriti (Traviata) - Verdi - Casanova No. Painful to watch and almost as painful to hear - voice too dark and croaky for the aria
• Questo o quella - (Rigoletti)- Verdi -Alcalá - Okay, but a bit bland, and sounded a bit flat
• La donna e mobile - (Rigoletto) Valls - I like! A bit like Alvarez, very young, sweet at the top, and a gorgeous finishing flourish, maybe a bit dusky
• Intermezzo - (Manon Lescaut ) - Puccini - Orchestra - the principal cellist, who played a solo passage, looks like he's just out of school...am I getting old?
• Che gelida manina (Boh�me) - Puccini Andreyev - great forte, crap piano, quite lyrical at times, but a swallower
• Firenze � come un albero fiorito (Gianni Schicchi) - Puccini Dwyer - small but pleasant voice, engaging attitude, good facial acting
• Recondita armonia (Tosca) - Puccini - Andreyev - to me, uninspiring, like he was singing the Argos catalogue without colour, but was well cheered
• E lucevan le stelle (Tosca) - Cura

INTERVAL

• Prelude to Act II (Siberia) - Giordano Orchestra
• Sleep My Beauty (May Night) - Rimsky-Korsakov Korchak - like Florez but cuter and with a sweeter tone
• Indian Guest (Sadko) - Rimsky-Korsakov Voropaev - sounded beautiful, although I don't know the aria
• Amor ti vieta (Fedora) - Giordano - Alcalá - dramatic, projected a cheerful personality got whistles and shouts of approval
• Lamento di Frederico (L'Arlesiana) - Cilea Valls - I like - rich dark voice, passionate ending, screams from the audience
• Je crois entendre encore (Les P�cheurs de Perles) - Bizet Korchak - a bit rough round the edges, but potential to be the Real Thing
• La fleur que tu m'avais jetée (Carmen) - Bizet - Kim - technically and musically brilliant, but I felt did not become Don José enough - there were calls for Encore
• Ma se m'e forza perditi (Ballo) - Verdi - Casanova - boring, muted applause, poor chap - I assume he was having an off night
• Overture (I Vespri Siciliana) - Verdi - Orchestra
• Dio mi potevi scagliar (Otello) - Verdi - Cura

The couple behind me were very relieved that Cura didn't actually conduct whilst he was singing; daft as it may seem, he did so on a previous occasion and it didn't work. I overheard a woman in the interval commenting that all he was doing was waving his arm up and down, she could do that, only not as well, but she doesn't have his rippling muscles and fine physique.

I have to say, especially during the Vespri Siciliani, I watched the orchestra closely. It was pretty clear that they had their heads buried in their scores. Not a sign of a good conductor! And I noticed him a lot, and you're not supposed to notice the conductor. Admittedly, it was partly the ponytail - I can't remember ever seeing a ponytail on a conductor before. Not that it really matters, but it's damn distracting when you're in Row E of the front stalls.

Of course, Cura was the best singer there - the rest are really at the start of their careers. And it was obvious from the way he threw himself wholeheartedly into the arias did make a big difference from the rest. Whilst he sung, the orchestra was conducted by the leader, whose name escapes me, but he's a big chap, probably at least 6'4". José Cura is also tall, and of the other nine, so is Ronald Samm. Kostyantyn Andreyev is towards the taller end of average, and Woo Kyung Kim average, but the rest were all really on the short side, probably not managing a 5'6" between them.

It was a great atmosphere, full of goodwill, with everyone knowing that they are all young unknowns. It wasn't a competition at all, but I did feel there was a degree of the clapometer mentality in the applause. For what it's worth, Kim clearly won the clapometer, and the two Dmitris, Valls and Samm were the other top ones. I would happily pay to hear any of them again - with the possible exception of Gustavo Casanova, but I'm assuming that he was having a bad day. Of course, two arias in concert are no guide to what someone would sound like in a full opera, and there is no guarantee that early promise will turn into into solid achievement. But still, there you go. And a few people commented on the lack of German stuff. Also, there wasn't much bel canto, either.

Incidentally, the promoters are advertising three upcoming recitals at St John's Smith Square, by David Curry (January), Joseph Calleja (February) and Jonas Kaufmann (March).

The only bad thing was getting home; there was a shortage of taxis, so I walked all the way down to the Northern Line, fighting a flood of Arsenal fans returning from Highbury to their homes in the stockbroker belt. Teh dot matrix said fourteen minutes, and there were apologies for delays due to signalling problems, so I swore and walked all the way back up to the taxi rank. On the way home the taxi was delayed by crowds pouring out of Brixton Academy, where Scissor Sisters had been playing...

Update: Guardian Review

Update: Observer Review

Independent review.
Photos and press next.

Marcelo Alvarez

The smarter amongst you may have noticed that having done Vaughan-Williams and Walton, I have reached the end of the alphabet of composers.

The even smarter will ask - what of Verdi and Wagner? The answer to that is they are operating in a different thread, because much as I like them, I learnt from my blogging Mozart that having days and weeks of the same composer unremittingly is not conducive to imaginative blogging.

So I now move onto Artist Albums. In strict alphabetical order. So I start with Marcelo Álvarez's "The Tenor's Passion". I am becoming rather a fan of Señor Álvarez. In the summer I got of video of Rigoletto with him as the Duke of Mantua , and having no previously really noticed him, I just went crazy. Then seeing him in Werther the other week, I went even crazier. And ordered this CD.

It contains many of the showcase tenor arias for compilation CD, but also some less frequent ones.  What a voice!  Big and sweet, with nuance and volume. A rich tone at the bottom and squillo to spare at the top. I can't wait until March when I see him in Ballo, one of my very favourite operas. His upcoming release of Massanet's Manon is Album of the Week next week on Classic FM

My especial favourites are Donna non vidi mai (From Puccini's Manon Lescaut); O Paradis (from Meyerbeer's L'Africaine); and Vainement ma bien aimée; he even does a bearable version of Nessun Dorma, which is not my favourite tenor aria by a long chalk. In fact there is a not a weak link on this album. Special praise should go to the Staatskapelle Dresden under Marcello Viotti.

All I can say is run don't walk. Get this album and bin your Bocellis.

La Bohème

Let's start with suitably lowered expectations. Although this is the 'B' of the famous ABCD of opera, there are very many people who find its story over-sentimental. Tosca (which I adore) aside, I am not a huge fan of Puccini.

  The stars are Mirella Freni, whom I quite like, although not madly, and Luciano Pavarotti, about whom I have decidedly mixed feelings. Filmed in 1989 before decline set in with a vengeance, his voice is unmistakable, even though past the pinnacle of his career. Technically brilliant with ringing clarity. But it has never done anything for me emotionally, despite my cerebral acceptance of brilliance.

My major problem with Pav is his acting, or, rather lack of. His face is a blank canvass awaiting nuance. He has three expressions - an innocent childlike smile, a frown, and the 'I'm singing my lungs out' face. The last does not belong in opera, where, generally, you're not supposed to be aware they are singing. I see Pavarotti, not Rodolfo the Bohemian poet. I also hear Pavarotti, which isn't how it should be, but is not necessarily a bad thing.

Nothing happens musically for the first 19 minutes, except for brief orchestral hints of the arias that are to come. My problem with this opera is that I see it as merely as an excuse for a string of showstopping arias. And, to be honest, I also think there is only one truly great aria - Che gelida manina, which is a real showstopper.

I would advise listening with eyes closed, or focused downscreen at the subtitles, rather than looking at the sombre frown mixing with inane grin and taught stage directions. He sings it so well and brings the house down. Pavarotti, star of the LP/CD age. We are now in the DVD age.

Mirella Freni is just how I imagine Mimi. Unfortunately, in this video, there is sometimes a hardness mixed with the something of her voice. However, I am prepared to believe that she is feeling those thoughts, rather then merely repeating the lines. And I do think that O soave fanciulla is a delightful duet.

Act 2 is set on Christmas Eve in the Latin Quarter. Great crowd scene, very well staged to give the impression of a street market, and musically interesting. I especially like the children's chorus!

Wonderful bitching session of a duet between Musetta and Marcello, with her elderly lover intervening. This is my favourite of the four acts, with Sandra Pacetti superb and Gino Quilico very good.

Act 3 is dour, reflected in both the music and the scenery. It is necessary for the drama, but I'm aftraid much of the music fails to do it for me. the exception is the closing duet, which sounds really quite something - two perfectly matched voices (of Pavarotti and Freni), with the characters of Marcello & Musetta coming in from time to time. Again, best not to watch Pav; just listen.

Just the one death in this particular opera, and unfortunately, neither violent nor grisly, but the tear jerker of TB. Unfortunately, my tears refused to be jerked. Some people actually leave before Act 4 because they can't stand the bathos and over-souped sentimentality. And she takes a heck of a long time to expire - twenty minutes, by my reckoning.

This particular DVD is 4:3 ratio, thus wasting some real estate on my screen. If you blow it up to cinema, you lose the subtitles. Otherwise, it's good for TV. It's directed for video by Brian Large, who's quite simply in a class of his own. Bizarrely, there are curtain calls at the end of each of the four Acts. In total, the opera runs under two hours. Maybe  curtain-calling so often gets to spin the entertainment out a bitter longer so the audience thinks it has received value-for -money.

Armed with my entire classical (And most of my pop) collection now databased, I seek out individual arias from La Boheme on various artist and general compilation discs.  Not at all to my surprise, most of the singers only attempt Che gelida manina. And here is my drive-through of those in my collection.

Beniamino Gigli - I don't especially like - to me there's very little feeling, although the voice has  a certain something. I'm not sure what. Not only sobbing, for which he isn't often derided today.  A musicality, perhaps. Also superb enunciation.  I'm not really a Gigli fan. My father was.

Plácido singing it on Domingo sings Caruso in a 1972 recording from the London Phil under Solti. I just love the richness of his timbre, but it's far from my favurite aria of his, and to be honest, it's far from being the best in my collection.

Alfredo Kraus with the National Philharmonic under James Levine is Nothing special. A voice I am not really familiar with, but I suspect that I am indifferent to.

I have two further versions by Pav. One, in a 1967 live recording in Rome isn't so good, but not bad. The other is a 1972 recording with the Berliner Phil under von Karajan, which sounds even better than the one on the DVD. His squillo is superb, and it just sounds excellent. This is followed by O soave fanciulla - with Mirella Freni, again, who sounds gorgeous, and Rolando Panerai as Marcello,  and In un coupe...O Mimi, tu piu non torni.

But my favourite of all, a little to my surprise, is Rolando Villazon's version for entirely subjective version. As the months go by I am falling increasingly more in love with his voice and just pray that I get to see him in Rigoletto next July. And in loads of things in the next 20-30 years!

Then we have Callas singing Si. Me chiamano Mimi and Donde lieta usci. This is with the Philharmonia under Serafin from 1954. Callas's is a voice you either like or dislike; I happen to like her. But I think I prefer Freni in this.

For the opera overall, on CD, the Puccini: 1972 Karajan set is recommended by Opera Nights as the best stereo version, although having only recently discovered Jussi Bj�rling I'm tempted to get this Puccini: mono set with Bj�rling, albeit reportedly not at his best, and de los Angeles.

There is a longish thread on rmo on what is the best Boheme. After the first fifty posts  or so, it goes a little into thread-drift, notably on the subject of Leoncavallo's less well-known version. But the consensus seems to be either the Pavarotti/Freni/Karajan or the Bj�rling/de los Angeles/Beecham, with recommendations coming in for the DVD with Teresa Stratas and Jose Carreras

Having dissed Aida and La Boh�me, the next opera up for review is Carmen. Only time will tell what I think of that...!

Madmusings - failing to 'get it', one opera at a time...

Kiri Te Kanawa

  I have just the one specifically Kiri Te Kanawa album in my collection, Ave Maria, on vinyl. I was quite a fan of hers back in the vinyl days. Still am, to an extent. I happen to really like her voice, a mixture of clarity and a certain sultriness. That having been said, she did a recital at the Festival Hall about a year ago. I was thinking of going, then for some reason I didn't, then I read some really panning reviews.

The music on this is a compilation of some of the divinist divine music, and is therefore, in my opinion, worth listening to even for that alone. I think if I had blogged this ten years ago, my prose would have been full of superlatives. Indeed, I don't know any albums in my collection that so many people have requested tapes of - you know back in the days when we used to do that...!

But I'm not so sure now. Yes, her voice is luscious and glistering. But I'm not sure that the colour is right for the type of songs. Not that I'm religious, but I do believe that sacred songs ought to be sung in a devotional sort of way, rather than an exercise in demonstrating the wonder of the voice.

I have better versions of many of them in my collection now, but this album introduced me to them.  My favourites on this are Mozart's Laudate Dominum; Gounod's Sanctus (especially the brightness of the orchestral brass); and Schubert's Ave Maria.

Although this may seem a damning by faint praise, I no sooner finish listening to the tape then I have to rewind it and play it again.

The Future Tenors

Opera's new Pavarotti soars to top C celebrity

I have a theory that Rolando Villazón, Juan Diego Florez, and Joseph Calleja could get together, do a concert, oh you know the rest...

Well, sod you, Muti

Maestro walks out on Royal Opera

Ego, arrogance. Maybe *some people* bought tickets partly with the intent of hearing Riccardo Muti.

Well, perhaps we'd rather hear Tony Pappano conduct. He gets increasingly glowing praise all the time.

Further coverage in The Guardian, Telegraph, Times, Independent

Monteverdi Vespers

Prom Number 61 Monteverdi Vespers of 1610, aka Vespro della Beata Vergine.

I booked this because of one of the soloists, soprano Carolyn Sampson, who delighted me a few months back in Beethoven and Mozart at the Royal Festival Hall.

It suddenly occurred to me this afternoon that I don't know this piece. then, something on the CD rack caught my eye - I have a recording of it. Which I played, and realised I do like.

So, off to the Albert Hall, usual ritual, except that three minutes, two minutes, one minute before the concert was due to begin I couldn't find my ticket. Panic. I even explained to the steward. Then I found it, in among the pages of my programme. Phew!

It was only a small orchestra, and the choir was perhaps two dozen. Gorgeous looking instruments - all period. Gorgeous sounding too, especially the sackbuts and chitarrones

Having perhaps overdosed on Wagner in the past couple of weeks, and, especially over the weekend, it was a delightful contrast to enjoy an hour and three-quarters of Monteverdi. I don't know whether it's specific to the Albert Hall, or whether I happened to be sitting in an acoustic white spot, but it just sounded gorgeous. All that plainsong woven with polyphony is just magical. Airy, light and soaring.

I enjoyed all the voice soloists. I don't especially like counter-tenors and high tenors, for example, but I did enjoy the three we had this evening (And note to the woman sitting on my right - counter-tenors are not the same as castrati...!). I also very much liked the bass. However, I was pleased to hear that Carolyn Sampson, who had sounded good at the RFH sounded exquisite this evening. Then, I used the words sweetness and clarity, and I would repeat that now. I'm not a great soprano freak, either, especially not light sopranos, but I do love her voice, and am looking forward to seeing here in Semele at ENO in October.

I also enjoyed the fact that this was not a static performance. For much of the time, the choir was grouped behind the orchestra, but occasionally different soloists, including instrumentalists would go to the back of the stage, or even high up in the gods in the gallery. The instrumentalists, especially the chitarronists and recorder-players came and went. Some people might find it distracting, but I think the movement is interesting and the use of space adds something to the performance.

Overall, I wouldn't say that the performance was exceptional, but it measured up well alongside the version I know. It was a good rendition of an achingly beautiful piece of music. Overall contemplative, but with such variety.

But what is it that people have to say that can't wait until the end of the concert, or at the very least, until the end of that particular piece. Is it verbal diarrhoea, or is it an inability to listen and feel the music and be carried away to another place. And don't they know how penetrating a whisper can be...!

Prom 56

The main reason I booked this was to hear Deborah Voigt sing Wagner's Wiesendock songs and Liebestod from T&I. Beethoven's 3rd, Eroica, was a good bet, too.

Unusually, I managed to get a ticket in the Stalls. It's a different world down there from the Circle. And I was sat amongst some curious people. The Proms is definitely Dress Down, and I was in a fleece, combat-style jeans and trainers, and I got a few disdaining looks for those dressed for a cultivated Friday night out. On my right was a couple, male and female. As I did my usual faffing, the woman said loudly, obviously for my benefit, "It clearly states no food or drink in the hall." Here we go," I thought, "Just don't start! And if you're going to make personal remarks, say it my face." Sweetly, I said, "Most venues turn a blind eye to water." The man suggested that there could be vodka in there;  I said there could, but an element of common sense prevails,  if I don't have my water, sod's law says I'll cough incessantly and disturb everyone around me, but they have to draw the line at people bringing in their beer and fish-and-chips.  The man then started going on about Prommers who spot empty seats and then grab for the interval, which is a bit 'off' when people have paid much more to sit than the �4 promming price - sneer. Back to the water, and when I mentioned that Covent Garden don't care if you take a glass bottle in, he suddenly perked up. Damn, how confusing it can be - one and the same person can actually attend Covent Garden, and also wear trainers, combat and fleece to a concert?  Zzzzzzz. He then became animated about the previous night's Prom - The Miserly Knight/Gianni Schicchi. I explained I was going to go but didn't - something cropped up. the woman said she found it amazing that the singers managed to remember the Russian - Italian, yes, but Russian, no. I thought of saying "Yeah, I bet Sergei Leiferkus has tremendous problems with the Russian..." but decided instead to say "Yes, I saw it on the TV a few weeks ago, I know Sergei Leiferkus was in the cast, and I think it was the same last night."

"Oh we didn't really notice the cast," said the bloke. "Was it on the TV?"  asked the man, "we must have missed it..." "BBC4," I explained, confident in being an ex-anti-digital-snob but now enjoying BBC4, Artsworld, Performance Channel (un po') and Interactive Olympics (and who has now booked an upgrade to Sky+...).

The woman in front was really strange. During the first piece, Hindemith's Concert Music for Strings and Brass, Opus 50, nothing special, did nothing to grab me..., she started caressing her man and saying "I love you" repeatedly but not tenderly, more at the urgent temp we use after a row or when trying desperately to reassure.

She was very strange, and I don't mean that nastily. She had a very pronounced Essex-Hertfordshire accent - think Posh Spice but more so. But what was so bizarre was she seemed to speak entirely on a monotone, with no inflection, no variation in pace, rhythm, or volume. Very strange...

After the Hindemith, Deborah Voigt appeared, to enthusiastic response, looking very good in a black dress. Perhaps more of an evening dress than a cocktail dress, but pretty close to a black cocktail dress, IMO. She sang Wagner's Wesendock Songs. I thought I didn't know them, but I certainly know Der Engel, and  Tra�me is familiar from Tristan und Isolde. I thought she sang them well, but I didn't sense any great emotional input - sort of singing the phone book, but singing the phone book delightfully.

Then followed the (orchestral) prelude from Tristan und Isolde, which was...okay, followed by 'Liebestod', which was just marvellous. Gorgeousness. With a lot of Wagner I could happily listen to the orchestra part alone. This was the orchestral high point of the evening. However, the orchestra was nothing compared to Debbie, especially she soared into and caressed the high notes which rang out sweet and, well, beautiful (and I'm not even a 'high notes' fan...), and she was so obviously blissing out in the music, and thoroughly deserved the very enthusiastic and sustained applause.

I was slightly distracted for a split second during the Liebestod when a woman four rows in front turned to say something to her companion. I was startled; later I reflected with bemusement - what is so urgent that it can't wait just a few moments until the closing chord. And how can anybody possibly break off from listening to that sublime music? Perhaps  the sound of an orchestra approaching orgasm is just too much for them, perhaps they are so afraid of their own repressed sexuality.

Incidentally, it is said that when Gustav Mahler conducted Tristan und Isolde he sustained an erection throughout and climaxed during the Liebestod. Now, I know back then, orchestras were all male, and the orchestral pit is dimly lit, but I'm not sure I would have wanted to be on the front row of the second violins. I mean, really...

As people stood up for the interval Monotone in front of me said, in a dead monotone to her husband "Five hours is a long time for an opera but for that...Even you'd enjoy it. I would love to see a performance of that opera, but there's none in the next year. Or The Meistersinger. It's a comedy but the music is lovely." I was fascinated that somebody with such an obvious love of and passion for music can have such a lack of music in her voice.

There was a trio behind me. They loudly declared that they don't go anywhere in the interval - perhaps they have become too familiar before with Chateau de Chunder from the Albert Hall's very own vineyards...One of the women asked "Who was that singing?" The man replied, "Deborah Voigt - she's been on the radio..."  I recommended a CD - Wagner Love Duets, explaining it had Deborah singing the Love Duets from Siegfried and from Tristan und Isolde, and it's on EMI Classics. The man asked who's she singing with them. I said, "Plácido Domingo".  The man smiled and wink and said "Say no more." I thought "Am I that obvious?"

During the interval, it seemed that half of everybody was desperately wapping, and the word soon spread round "Paula dropped out," accompanied by widespread disappointment.

I was a bit bored in the second half. You can't really go wrong with Beethoven, I thought.

Wrong! It was insipid. The strings were mushy. When I listen to string heavy orchestral music I want to hear the bowing of the strings. It's a bit worrying when you can barely see the bowing. Maybe I've fallen victim of the Campaign to Abolish Vibrato, and I like my notes defined, but this wasn't so much vibrato, but just one long elision. I'm not saying that I was writhing and groaning in pain in my seat, but it just didn't grab me.

And when it was finished Mrs Monotone said "I didn't like that. Did you like that? I thought I loved that piece. You know, I'm going to have to play it all weekend,
because I know I love it. That wasn't right."

The orchestra was Royal Phil under Daniele Gatti.

Unfair, but apt...

Schubert: Die Winterreise: Bostridge/ Andsnes

Bostridge conveys more the image of an Oxbridge choral scholar who has ventured out without his scarf than Schubert's traveller

- just on this CD or generally?

Another straw poll

Update I'm leaving this on top on Friday, because I have a severe attack of bloghorea pending...

This is aimed mainly at non-opera lovers, although I am not excluding others. Who, in your opinion, are the most famous opera singers? Say some names - I'm curious, don't be afraid of being embarrassed. It's an open question, with no right or wrong answers (well, Celeine Dion would be a wrong answer, but she's only a right answer to 'Which singer would you most like to shoot?')

Faust 19 June

Interview with Roberto Alagna, due to star - with wifey Angela Gheorghiu (or Posh n Becks, as they are known) and Bryn Terfel aka Meatloaf - in Covent Garden's Faust, due to be broadcast live in a couple of weeks' time. (And if you have tickets, just SHUT UP).

Update: I have summarised and linked Press reviews.

Thank you for dropping by, I hope you enjoy the telecast.

Please do call back again - new visitors always welcome!

Il Trovatore

I thought that as I am getting the Del Prado partworks opera DVDs on a fortnightly basis, I might as well review them as I watch them. On in between weeks, I shall review the other videos and DVDs in my collection.

The plot is kind of complicated to explain but quite easy to follow, and includes quite a few gruesome deaths. For some reason I keep getting it mixed up with La Forza Del Destino, when in fact they have nothing in common except for music by Verdi, based on plays by Spanish playwrights of about the same time, and various gruesome deaths, taking refuge in a convent, the friend who is determined to spend his life looking, and the key involvement of gypsies.

Okay, so quite similar then. But Forza's most famous tune is the Stella Artois advert.

I actually got this one last week but only got round to playing it today. When I bought it I turned my nose up because of the presence in it of Pavarotti, who does nothing for me. But I resolved to buy each one in the series in order to expand my mind.

Trov is one of the popular greats from Verdi's middle period. The most famous piece from it is the Anvil Chorus, but 'Di quella pira' is also famous. Verdi wrote it to end on a high A, but convention has it that it ends on a high C - Salvatore Licitra was booed at La Scala for following Riccardo 'Perfectionist' Muti's instructions to sing the A, as per the score. In this performance, it is transposed to finish on a B, which seems silly. Not that I have any objection to transposition - quite the opposite - but it would seem sensible to me, if the High C can't be hit, to go with the A as Verdi intended.

Nobody especially impressed me in this performance. Leonora was played by Eva Marton, famous for having a big voice - and screechy. Pavarotti's opening lines grated on me immediately. He played Manrico exactly as I saw him play La Boh�me's Rudolfo on the TV a few weeks back - Rodolfo as Pav; Manrico as Pav. Stand and bark, I think it's called. Express love for Leonora with a false fixed grin; express anger at his 'mother's' imminent execution by knitting the eyebrows. No interaction or apparent chemistry with the other players. I know Pav has a lot of fans, and technically, his singing is brilliant. It's just that his voice does not push any of the right buttons for me; there are many of his fans who would much prefer to listen than to watch.

A very static and dull Trov, with many flaws. The accompanying booklet calls it a 'lavish cast' (I suspect it might be the ugliest cast ever committed to videotape). However, in talking about Sherrill Milnes the booklet says

This great artist immortalised his version of the complex Verdian character on one of the most wonderful recordings of The Troubadour ever; released in 1970 and conducted by Zubin Mehta (RCA). The exceptional cast included Leontyne Price, Plácido Domingo and Fiorenza Cossotto.

In other words, this 1988 Met telecast is being sold because it exists, rather than for any intrinsic merit.

Unexpected wow moment

At the Festival Hall tonight, during the Lacrimosa in Mozart's Requiem, I realised with delight that my plastic water botttle was tuned to exactly the same note as the lower timp. I feared to sip a drop of water, and I am sure that the timpanist saw me looking at him in awe and amazement. Then I started panicking - was it merely the water in the bottle, or was it also where and how my hand held it, was the way I rested it on my thigh of any significance?

If I had tried to tune my water bottle to a timp, I would never had succeeded!

As for the rest of the concert, it was the Philharmonia and the Bach Choir under David Hill, with soloists Carolyn Sampson (soprano), Catherine Wyn-Rogers (mezzo), James Gilchrist (tenor) and Michael George (bass).

The programme was Brahms' Alto Rhapsody, Beethoven's Christus am Ölberge and Mozart's Requiem.

I had never heard the Brahms before. As I was listening to the first half, sung by the mezzo, I thought it a bit dull, but then the male choir voices came in and I heard a little bit of magic.

As intimated below I was excited and nervous about the Beethoven. The orchestra was very very beautiful. The final Chorus of Angels caused goosepimples of ecstasy, which don't happen with the CD. The bass was okay - although it is only a small part. I didn't like the tenor very much. He kind of spolt it for me by a very weak entry on the first, powerful phrase, "Jehova, du mein Vater!" And he was less than impressive in the Terzetto, which is my favourite bit of the oratorio. I did think that he would be better off singing nice little Leider about flowers, lambs and falling in love.

I found the soprano Carolyn Sampson very interesting. She only looked young - in her twenties maybe - and her biography seems to support this "She currently studies with..." Her voice was not big (she sometimes was barely audible over the orchestra in the Mozart), but it was beautiful, to the extent that I am now considering booking for Monteverdi's Vespers at the Proms and Semele at ENO in order to hear her. I was really wowed by the sweetness and clarity of her voice in the Beethoven.

I also found it fascinating watching the orchestra - despite the many times I have played my CD over the past few weeks, I had not realised the extent of the timpani part. Also, sometimes when I'm listening, I get confused between clarinets and bassoons, and between French horns and trombones, so it's good to see the live performance.

And even with the poor acoustics of the Royal Festival Hall, it is still a thrilling experience to hear the music live.

The Mozart was gorgeous. I especially liked the Bach Choir. I gazed on them with envy. I would so love to be able to sing in a choir (they are all amateurs, but very good). Also, the tenor and mezzo were more impressive - more confident? - and the bass was solid.

In a way it's such a familiar piece, and it's nice to know exactly what phrase is coming next. Having heard so many different interpretations over the years, it is also much easier to retain an open mind, which is healthy, I think.

And in the audience I spotted John Sergeant. I'm afraid I glanced just a little bit too long as he was walking in (I was already in my seat). He went bright red. He's not so ugly in the flesh.

Back to my Beethoven CD. God, I'm sad...

Or off to bed. I'm tired. I have to go to the doctors tomorrow, and in a stroke of genius planning, I have another concert to attend.

The divine Ms Fleming

One of those *wow!* occasions. Hearing Renee Fleming live at the Royal Festival Hall. Arguably the greatest soprano of our age. Her or Angela Gheorgiou, anyway. What a pleasant evening.

The programme was a mixture of song and orchestral pieces. Can't really beat The Overture to Marriage of Figaro as an opener. The first half was good, but not brilliant, although I really loved her coloratara in the Massenet Recitative and Gavotte.

The second half really was brilliant. The overture to I vespri siciliani is quite stunning, and I especially loved the percussion. Next came the highlight of the evening - Willow song and Ave Maria from Otello. I have a DVD where Dame Kiri singing this provides one of the highlights of my entire music collection. But, hearing Renee sing it was beyond words. The tension in the auditorium, absolute silence from the audience, as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my entire body is covered in goosebumps. A gorgeous piece of music interpreted to perfection. You know how good a performance is when there is a discernible pause between the last note and the start of the applause (except for one w*nker who needs to get his 'Brava' in before the conductor has lowered his baton).

O mio babbino caro and Ebben? Ne andro lontana are lovely showy pieces, and, as far as I'm concerned, performed faultlessly. Three encores were welcome. A lovely evening.

It's always interesting hearing the conversations of those around one. So many people, who showed evidence of being musicians or music students were raving about her, not just her wonderful singing, but also that she's a really normal person (of course the implication being a sharp contrast to a certain other diva...).

It was interesting chatting with the chap next to me, a senior opera queen, who adores Renee, and Angela. We were also talking about male singers - I mentioned Rolando Villazon, he said "Oh! What a voice!" He also mentioned 'Angela Gheorghiou's husband'. I said I'm not that big a fan. But I thought it must be a pain to be, arguably, the third best operatic tenor in the world, and yet be known as somebody's husband...

Reviews from icbirmingham and Scotsman, and an interview in The Times.

Update:Times Review /update

She has an album that has just been released in the UK.

Outsized talents

Norman Lebrect on the beginning of Pavarotti's five years (ten years?) overdue retirement and the Debora Voight little-black-dress saga.

My view on Pavarotti? I think at his peak he had a beautiful sweet clear light voice, but he should have retired years ago. I remember hearing him in Hyde Park (too many umbrellas to see the big screen, let alone the stage...).

It was strange day, actually. I had lunch with Richard, whom I had had a crush on for about eighteen months, and Charlie, with whom I had had this wonderful flirtatious relationship for about a year (and he taught me how to do cryptic crosswords). I happened to mention that I was going to Pavarotti in the Park, and Charlie said that he was more of a Carreras fan, whilst I said I was really a Domingo fan, and we spent some time discussing the relative merits of our favourites. Richard said he had seen the Rolling Stones in Hyde Park, and I thought 'twunt' and the crush ended there and then.

I realised it was raining, and had to borrow one of the section's Barbour jackets (handy that I was on Agriculture section - one of the few that had communal barbour jackets). I met up with R, with whom I had been at school, and her boyfriend of two or three years, G, and my old uni friend, L.

R and G had a massive row - something about him realising he was gay.  L, whose nickname at Uni was Mad L, or L in the sky with diamonds, expressed deep disapproval of R's tantrumy sulk (or was it a sulky tantrum), and later told me that R was mad, which I thought was a bit rich (you know, pots and kettles, glass houses and stones). And then I remembered that L wasn't actually a friend, but a friend-of-a-friend with whom I happened to share a house in third year. We still exchange Christmas cards. A couple of years back she suggested we meet up 'for coffee'.

But when Pavarotti sang "E lucevan le stelle' and, somehow the rain stopped, and the umbrellas came down, it was a magical moment.

The fat lady won't sing

Covent Garden drops Deborah Voight for being too large to wear a little black dress in Strauss's Ariadne auf Naxos.

As a side point the article contains the phrase

Nowadays, however, we expect Tristan and Isolde to look shaggable as well as sound it

I am fascinated by the evolution of the word 'shag', and its derivatives. I'm sure it's a recent development. For example, I think when I was a student (86-89) the mot de jour was bonk, which seems to have fallen out of usage. The tabloids use the word 'bedded' which I hate. In intimate surroundings I like to use the good old Anglo-Saxon word 'fuck'. I think, however, shag is acceptable in polite-ish company, although I don't think that it has quite the acceptability yet of 'crap' which I have encountered in formal work situations.

There are so many euphemisms for the act of sexual congress. I suspect if someone said "Let's have sexual intercourse", certainly if they said it without irony, I would immediately turn frigid.

'Going to bed with' or 'sleeping with' are way too euphemistic, and miss the point. 'Screwing' seems a little too aggressive. 'Making love' works in some contexts - you know, men who say "I don't have sex, I make love" (again, a slight sense of irony helps!). But, for example, in the novels of Jane Austen 'making love' has different connotations, perhaps somewhere between flirting and whispering sweet nothings.

And what is flirting? Does it always have to be sexual, or is it okay to flirt, for example, with colleagues, or shop assistants, or with child relatives, when there is absolutely no sexual intention.

I like the word 'shag'. It has no sense of obscenity, and enables one to establish the fact without going into details.

Whether Wagner intended Tristan and Isolde to look and sound shaggable is a whole other question.