Gertsamtkunstwerk

Alex on ENO's Ring

from The Telegraph

Does the character being reprimanded remind you of any Wagnerian MP for Kensington?

Twilight of the Gods

The Guardian is not impressed.

Brunnhilde the Suicide Bomber

Opera at war over Wagner

In a clear Vs-up to dyed in the wool stick in the traditionalists,

Clad in a modern jacket packed with explosives, the betrayed lover of Siegfried, played by Kathleen Broderick, obliterated the rest of the cast by detonating herself in the dramatic 'immolation scene' that ends the opera.

Bring it on! (I'm there in a couple of weeks...)

Die Walküre

I have been slightly strange reactions to reviews of the Royal Opera's Die Walküre that opened last week.

I bought a ticket, because I wanted to go, then I sold the ticket, because, well, oh heck, you know why...And then I bought two more tickets, but for not-until-July.

Of the tetralogy, I think Walküre is my least favourite. But I'm not sure. And I'm even less sure it matters, this ranking thing. And I definitely know now that Winterstürme is one of my top arias - if it is an aria, I'm not sure. A feeling that was confirmed on Thursday morning when I sat in the tastefully planted smoking area outside Dublin airport, basking in the Spring sun

Winterstürme wichen dem Wonnemond,
in mildem Lichte leuchtet der Lenz;
auf linden Lüften leicht und lieblich,
Wunder webend er sich wiegt;
durch Wald und Auen weht sein Atem,
weit geöffnet lacht sein Aug': -
aus sel'ger Vöglein Sange süß er tönt,
holde Düfte haucht er aus;
seinem warmen Blut entblühen wonnige Blumen,
Keim und Sproß entspringt seiner Kraft.
Mit zarter Waffen Zier bezwingt er die Welt;
Winter und Sturm wichen der starken Wehr:
wohl mußte den tapfern Streichen
die strenge Türe auch weichen,
die trotzig und starr uns trennte von ihm. -
Zu seiner Schwester schwang er sich her;
die Liebe lockte den Lenz:
in unsrem Busen barg sie sich tief;
nun lacht sie selig dem Licht.
Die bräutliche Schwester befreite der Bruder;
zertrümmert liegt, was je sie getrennt:
jauchzend grüßt sich das junge Paar:
vereint sind Liebe und Lenz!

If I get round to it I'll type an English translation (Babelfish gives a shrug and says, I can't cope...) - but it starts Winter Storms have given way to Spring delights. Which is nicely apt for today when it's hot hot hot in London town...

Anyway, the reviews...

Smug and warm in the office

Well, warm is pushing it a bit, but a bit of foresight on my part last year and the parting with £60 saved me all sorts of discomfort.

Sure, I cursed myself on Friends' deadline day when, despite repeated attempts by my newsagent, the fax wouldn't go through, further attempts at work just met with an engaged tone, panic about a monthly unit meeting that was fortuitously delayed by an hour, and finally, ten minutes before the meeting kicked off, my fax went through.

Then, the agonising wait, the daily inspection of my bank balance, the panic when my employer 'forgot' to pay me - but remedied this on the Friday before Covent Garden processed my request on the Sunday...phew...but not after I had sunk into depression, hearing of various people who had already got, or not got, their tickets.

Then, on Tuesday 'public' booking opened, and led to quite a thread on rmo

So much for the Covent Garden online ticketing system. It crashed in an ugly
heap under the weight of demand the moment booking for Period 4 opened at 10:00, taking the entire ROH site with it. It is still inaccessible. Somebody needs to sign the capex for more capacity or rethink the whole thing...From fiasco to farce. Having finally struggled to its feet for a few minutes, the booking system allocated me excellent seats for Rigoletto, took my credit card details and then suffered a relapse in the middle of authorising the transaction. Needless to say, the site is once again completely inaccessible...After queuing for two hours under the colonnades in this cold weather, I gave up empty handed, as I had to go to work...Yeah, got there in the end. I think I'm going to need a new F5 key on my keyboard now though...You're lucky. I need a new LCD screen. Or at least I will do once I've removed the keyboard from it...

Or, as the Guardian put it

At the Royal Opera House, tickets were going on sale for Richard Wagner's The Valkyrie. This was a special event. Wagner is to opera lovers as Cliff Richard is to sexagenarian dinner ladies, and The Valkyrie is the poppiest of his many pop hits (his Saviour's Day, if you like - only five hours long, and with more incest). Add to this that the hero Siegmund is to be played by Placido Domingo, and you will understand: these tickets were hot...I was there at 6am. The box office opened at 10. There were people queueing before me. I had no thermals, but cut a dash with pyjama bottoms under my jeans and a borrowed Cossack hat. I am no wimp, and have been called brave by dentists, but it really was stark-bollock freezing...In conditions that would have Ranulph Fiennes screaming for nanny, a retired civil servant chatted amiably about Poulenc.

Like I care.

I've got a ticket for two different nights.

Count them. ONE. TWO.

Unbounded joy

This evening I opened my post with trembling, shaking fingers. I could tell by the envelope that it was my ticket allocation for Booking Period 4 from Covent Garden. I had applied for tickets to Die Walküre in July, but knowing that it would be massively oversubscribed I did not raise or hold much hope. This lack of hope increased as time wore by - over three weeks had passed. The debiting of my bank account for a not inconsiderable sum raised them, but only cautiously.

And my eyes fell on the tickets. Two for Die Walküre. That's two separate nights (yeah, like I'm going to share my ticket allocation with anybody).

Oh joy joy and happiness joy. That now means I shall be seeing Plácido not once, not twice, but three times in the next six months. The seats I have are not the best possible, not even as good as I ordered, but they're still good enough seats, and I get to see, and, more importantly, hear, my hero. I don't know how I shall be able to contain myself until July. Ooh, I know, I'll pop across to Dublin to see him in concert...

I am unbelievably elatedly happy. (It also means that I should get to hear, not merely see, Bryn Terfel, which would otherwise be a pretty big deal in itself).

I'm also seriously chuffed that I got tickets for two nights of Rolando Villazón in Rigoletto. All in the space of nine days.

My birthday present

With the tremendous assistance of gift vouchers, I have ordered arguably the greatest recording ever made, ever, in the history of recording, ever...

Thank you to Mother, and to the commenter known as 'Your Sister' (and family), and to Dr Goldenballs (and Mrs Goldenballs).

Das Rheingold

So, last night to Covent Garden for the last in the run of the prelude to the tetralogy.

As already posted all over the internet, here is a summary of what happened:

Picture the scene. Parked outside. Not one, not two, but three great big BBC lorries.

Reading the cast list sheet, a note that tonight's performance was being recorded for radio AND TV broadcast (oh, the excitement...). A brief note that one of the minor parts had had a role change.

Taking one's seat, note that the curtain is slightly late to rise. Prolly cos of telly I thought.

The woman who makes announcements walked onto the stage. The woman behind me said "Oh no, don't let it happen, Bryn's going to cancel". Don't be silly I thought like saying, it would have been on the cast sheet...

"Bryn Terfel" begins the announcing woman, to a very audible groan round the auditorium.

Long and short of it - Bryn woke up with a sore throat and headache, no singers could fly in from Germany because of gales causing chaos at airports (I can vouch for that having had to wait for two extra hours Saturday night at the worlds newest and most boring airport, Taba, where we were reduced to smoking in the loos)

But landing at Gatwick was Donald McIntyre. Bryn finally pulled out an hour before curtain, was going to appear and act, whilst Donald McIntyre would sing from the pit, having had no rehearsal. Later, consulting my programme, I saw that he had sung the role in 1974. It seems that he is well into his 70s.

It was really quite strange. As the man next to me said, he was a shadow of his former self but what a heroic effort to pull it off. (And what an enormous cheer he got). As a woman on the stairs said, it must make it doubly difficult for the conductor. If I were being objective, I would mention wobble and weakness, but that would be extremely unfair of me.

Back to the BBC. Random people preceding me were confronting various BBC folk and questioning them, and I dutifully earwigged. One said that Rheingold will be televised live on Good Friday (presumably with no live audience???). Another BBC man said something about using the visuals from tonight and the sound from last Friday. We shall see...

And for good measure I saw Michael Portaloo walking along with an expression on his face that slightly famous people wear when they are conscious that they might be recognised, secretly would love to be, but are pretending to be all self-effacing.

Oh, BTW, I loved the production, enjoyed the music, although I've heard it better, and thought that some of the cast were excellent, especially Philip Langridge as Loge.

I avoided meeting the eye of my Bryn Terfel-loving colleague _all_ day, in order to resist telling her whom I was going to see....Well, I saw him, but I think her main interest is his voice.

As an afterthought, all those arsehole Christian lunatics who protested about the televising of Jerry Springer - the Opera - what will they do about that tale of incest coming up later in the year?

More generally, I thought that the critical panning of the production and staging was misplaced. I think, perhaps, there are different parts of the brain that different people apply. I think also that there are people who are hidebound in tradition and resistant to innovation, to the point of pre-judging. There were a lot of interesting effects in the staging, lots of ladders were used, as was promised.

The opening scene was particularly criticised, but I liked it - the use of lights and shadows gave the definite impression that the Rhinemaidens were In the Rhine. I liked the way Alberich arrived by dinghy.

I was fascinated by some of the props - why did Wotan take a model aeroplane down into Nibelheim? Wasn't that Nothung that Wotan was yielding at the end, a nice look forward to Die Walküre and Siegfried.

Some of the singing was better than others. As well as Phillip Langridge, mentioned above, I also enjoyed Jane Henschel as Erda and Franz-Josef Selig as Fasolt. It was a real shame that Bryn didn't get to sing, because he has tremendous charisma and stage presence.

It is my third Rheingold in a year, in addition to a DVD of the Met a few years back and a a Met broadcast from last year. I think it is my favourite of the four - although I haven't seen Götterdammerung live - I just adore the lushness of the orchestra. So, I was somewhat disappointed by parts last night. I had a distinct feeling of the brass being a bit off at the beginning, and another poster on rmo said much the same thing. I felt the orchestra sounded often more crisp tham lush. That having been said, there were some utterly gorgeous moments, too. There is a belief that Antonio Pappano is showing the potential to be a very great conductor (at 45 he's relatively young), certainly a view I would support. But I would suggest that perhaps Rheingold is a work in progress.

Ring of Nibelung

A new Ring has just begun at Covent Garden. A solemn and momentous occasion, covered by all the quality newspapers. Over the next two seasons it will be slowly unveiled, culminating in a proper cycle in 2006/07.

Portentiously, the Guardian even included it in the Comment Section, although rather snottily - strange how journalists, clearly living somewhere other than the real world focus on the £150 seats whereas over half are £50 or - significantly - less. Presumably it's infra dig for the stuck-up journos to mix with the ordinary working people, pensioners and students - music lovers - in the balcony, amphitheatre or slips.

In fairness they had previously given space to the director Why do we have such a need for the operas of a deeply prejudiced man? Director Keith Warner on Wagner

Their critic goes on to damn it with faint praise

The Telegraph says A jolly nice show that won't melt any hearts

The Times continues the theme of praising Terfel and Pappano and giving an indifferent shrug to the production.

The Independent manages two reviews

There is also quite some discussion on Usenet

I shall be going on the last night of this run; whether I get to Die Walküre lies in the laps of the gods, as I keep everything crossed.

Last night's Imagine on BBC1, for which the BBC appear not to have retained any web presence, was rather wonderful. Clearly timed to coincide with the launch of the Ring, it profiled a year in the life of the rather wonderful Tony Pappano, Musical Director and seriously good conductor of the Royal Opera. Showing excerpts from many of this year's productions - many of them witnessed by me - it culminated with opening night of Das Rheingold (they even showed a very very brief clip of Plácido, looking gorgeous, of course, - he was in London last weekend...). They also mentioned that both Das Rheingold and Die Walküre would be shown on BBC2 over Easter.

Hearing part of that wonderful opening made my spine tingle with sheer blissful excitement. But there's Christmas and a holiday on the Red Sea Riviera to get through yet. Sigh

Der Ring des Nibelungen

The Royal Opera has a brand new production of Der Ring des Nibelungen starting 18 December and emerging in exciting installments (four, in all...) during htis and next season

Feature on Antonio Pappano ROH's Music Director and brilliant conductor.

The genius of Wagner

Fifty things you need to know about The Ring

Interview with Bryn 'Wotan' Terfel

Siegfried

English National Opera's really rather good production was viewed by yours truly.

Just to recap, this is Part 2, ie the third opera of ENO's Ring; I have l already done their Rhinegold and Valkyrie; and Das Rheingold at the Proms, and have tickets for Covent Garden's Das Rheingold and Die Walküre (Spring run) and for ENO's Twilight of the Gods. In all, I hope to do five Die Walküres in 2005, even though it's my least favourite of the four. I think. Hey, WTF do I know.

I had read a couple of positive reviews in the papers, but it's always best to see for oneself. It's quite a long evening, starting at five and finishing at ten, but that includes two half hour intervals.

The absolutely best bit of the whole evening for me was the wonderful gorgeous music played very well by the ENO orchestra under Paul Daniel. The very next best thing was Kathleen Broderick's singing of Brunnhilde.  The love duet that makes up Act 3 Scene 3 is one of my most favourite pieces of music, and she was just wonderful.

Richard Berkeley-Steele as Siegfried was, on the whole, very good. It must be an absolute killer role to sing. There is very little time when he is not on the stage and singing, often very long passages. A look of Craig McLachlan (Henry from Neighbours, Grant from Home and Away) did him no harm as the young man who knows no fear. He moved round stage very well. He was particularly excellent in the Forging Scene that closes Act 1, but I have to say he disappointed me in the Love Duet. He wasn't helped, IMO, by having  to sing it in English. It shouldn't be done in English, but in German, in what it was wrote, and as Covent Garden will be doing it. And I guess his voice was tired by this stage. I can't say that there was anything about his voice that made me go 'Oh wow!' but definitely, overall, a good performance.

And perhaps I am being slightly unfair to him in the Love Duet. It's just that the version I have on CD contains perhaps the most sublimely stupendous wonderful note in my entire music collection

Robert Hayward was again disappointing. He had played Wotan in the previous two; The Wanderer is Wotan in disguise. It wasn't that he was bad, but there was no variety of colour in his voice, and a lot of the time he couldn't be heard over the orchestra. When he could, his words were barely distinguishable. As somebody said, if - and big if they're going to put on a proper cycle, they will need to find someone else for that role.

The other major part was Mime played by John Graham-Hall. I thought it was a very sympathetic and poignant portrayal of a character not supposed to be that sympathetic.

ENO set out to make the productions controversial. This was clearly less controversial than Valkyrie had been, but was determinedly modern in its setting. Mime and Siegfried's cave in Act 1 was reminiscent of Steptoe and Son. But it worked. The forging scene was a wonderful display of strobe lights and smoke. The second Act seemed to be set in a corridor-as-waiting-room typical of many hospitals I have visited, but with the rear wall being a flat of painted forest.  I was very impressed by the way they showed Siegfried slaying the giant Fafner - disguised as a dragon, but yet not disguised as a dragon. It was done in silhouette behind a white screen, and the angles of refraction made it look as though Fafner really was a giant in relation to Siegfried.

Some of the most beautiful music comes when Siegfried hears the song of the Woodbird. This was staged by Siegfried blowing bubbles as he lay enchanted. I'm a sucker for bubbles anyway, and as they floated, they went gorgeously with the music. The woodbird was portrayed as a young child in baseball cap and riding a scooter, which was kind of cutey.

When The Wanderer went to seek the advice of Erda, she was based in an elderly residential home. All was grey, except for Erda's green tights. Then Siegfried burst onto the scene and was finally shown where to find Brunnhilde lying on a rock surrounded by fire (remember she was left there at about the time that Siegmund and Sieglinde conceived Siegfried, so she's been there in solitude a very long time...)

Again, I think that was well staged. She lay behind a white screen, a white screen edged with a border that, I assume, represented a circle of fire. He went behind to embrace her, and all that was visible were their silhouettes. As they twisted and embraced, their silhouetted bodies formed a giant phallus on the screen.

The scenery was very minimalist, and I think the Love Duet suffered for this. As I say, the music is completely gorgeous, and Kathleen Broderick's singing was utterly gorgeous. But with little scenery, and a deprecation of 'stand-and-deliver' style of singing, there actions were a little unconvincing.

Every time I hear any of the operas from the Ring, I think, 'that music is completely gorgeous, I would love to have a CD-set of the entire thing without singing'. But I don't think any are available. And I don't have any complete CDs anyway: the only complete versions I have are taped off the radio.

there were people pooh-poohing the contemporary staging, but I like it - as long as it doesn't make a nonsense of the story. And it doesn't. Mind you the guy behind me, a pooh-pooher, declared that he had stoped going to Italian Opera when he discovered Wagner. I wanted to turn round and say "You should get out more, dear..." but I didn't.

During the first interval, I was standing on St Martin's Lane having a cigarette and I noticed Adrian Dwyer leaving the building. I was going to go up and say that i had really enjoyed him in the Ten Tenors Gala at the RFH. then I remembered I hadn't particularly, so I didn't...

Review of ENO's Siegfried

Siegfried

Independent
Next week.

Note to self - buy nicotine gum.

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.

Rheingold review

Simon Rattle's Ring of truth, finding the words I abjectly failed to do on Thursday,

Das Rheingold

First in an occasional series of reviews. Well, four to be exact. The final one will occur in 2007. Tonight was the opening night of the first ever Proms Ring Cycle. And there was a palpable buzz around the place. For ease of reference, when I link back over the next three years I have put cast details in the Extended Entry.

I arrived quite early and went up to the circle, thinking, get drink, read programme, etc. A young steward challenged me in quite a confrontational way. "Where are you going?" "The bar" I said in that questioning sardonic way. "It's over there," he said, pointing in the direction I was heading. "I know," I replied. Did I look like a trouble maker?

Halfway through I saw a group of about half a dozen teenagers being shepherded out of the Arena (prom area) by a steward. I was perplexed. They did look a bit young to have come to a concert performance of a Wagner opera without parents. But it didn't appear that they were causing trouble. And, I assume, they must have paid to get in. Strange.

I also saw quite a few adults leave at various stages of the evening. I suppose if you have another engagement to attend it's better to go to half a concert than none. but I can't imagine that so many people had nine o'clock engagements. They didn't look like the type. Quite how they'll cope with Walkürie, Siegfried and Götterdammerung, twice the length of this, a mere prelude, I don't know. And rubbishy comments about the difficulty of Wagner. Rheingold is so accessible, so lyrical, so orchestrally lush, so beautiful. I'm waiting impatiently for my Covent Garden Rheingold tickets .

The performance. I was thoroughly impressed by it. A good ensemble of singers, all of whom projected above the orchestra clearly into the Circle. I had a wonderful time changing my mind about which voice type I like best. Through the course of the evening I had a preference for all the voices on offer. And again I conclude I like the contralto voice the most - Erda is a contralto, and Fricka a dramatic mezzo, but Yvonne Naef is listed as contralto.

Funny that, because I don't think any of my favourite female singers are contraltos, and I think counter-tenor is my least favourite. Or maybe heldentenor is really my favourite, Certainly Loge is the best part in this opera and Kim Begley was excellent. Probably the best perfomer overall was Oleg Bryjak as Alberich. Willard White as Wotan sounded wonderful but sang the role as straight concert, which was a shame. In fact, there wasn't a weakest link, at all.

There is something about this music that just gets to me every time. Especially the Finale to Scene 4 which gave me goosepimples and sent something rushing through my bloodstream, And I finished up by crying - not because of the story or drama but because of the music. That's not really me, you know.

It was interesting to see some period instruments, but I'm not sure, other than a gimmick, what they actually added to the performance. I very much liked Simon Rattle's use of tempi - some bits fair galloped by, but he slowed down the tempo when it was right to do so.

It's a shame that Radio 3 isn't doing it as Listen Again, nor as a repeated one. Whereas, they're doing both for the one I went to last Saturday, which was...disappointing.

I can't wait until January (or December) when I see it at Covent Garden. In the meantime, Siegfried at ENO; and next year will, presumably, include Gotterdammerung at ENO in the early Spring followed by a run* of Walküries - one Spring and three July (From my mouth to God's ears) at Covent Garden, and a Summer one at the Proms.

*I suppose that ought to be a ride, but I'm only counting five, a bit short, I think.

Update: Excellent Observer Review, with which I largely concur...

Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg

Concert performance by Zürich Opera at the Festival Hall last night. Not an opera I had previously heard before, but one said by many people to be amongst the greatest. It's long - it started at 5pm and finished at 10.30 with two intervals just short of half an hour each. And it's difficult to maintain concentration for the entirety of that time. Towards the end of Act 1 I found myself nodding, and in the beginning of Act 3 I was distracted by the need to update my Wap page to see how England were doing vs Croatia...!

The acoustics are not good at the RFH, so I was a little disappointed that at times the singers were drowned by the orchestra, especially Peter Seiffert, who played Walther, the main tenor role. The programme notes describe him as 'one of the world's leading tenors'. I can't say I've heard of him, but, despite the lack of volume (and I'll blame the RFH for that - but you do know that it will be refurbished, don't you, as a result of the enlightened decision of Lambeth Planning Committee in Spring 2002! Have I mentioned my legacy to London, the World?), I did very much enjoy his warm rich voice.

It's a lovely story. The translated dialogue was on a Dot Matrix indicator above the stage, so no trouble in following. It's by Wagner, so I didn't notice any instantly hummable tunes, but I just adored the lush orchestra. Special mention to the triangle player, who was outstanding.

The cast was, I think, on the whole good. Matti Saminen was the most famous; he sang the small but important role of Veit Pogner. Michael Volle was excellent as Sixtus Beckmesser - even in a concert performance he conveyed strutting blustering arrogance. Petra-Maria Schnitzer as Eva was beautiful; Brigitte Pinter as Magdalene had a sumptuously rich voice and fiesty portrayal. But the real star was José van Dam as Hans Sach, whose singing was always impressive and his portrayal dignified.

It may seem somewhat contrary to say so, but I didn't particularly notice the orchestra, well conducted by Franz Welser-Möst. The music, yes, but not the orchestra. Which, I think, is a positive statement.

There are some exquisitive momemts - for me the highlight was in the first (or second?) scene in Act III. The programme says "In a moving scene it becomes obvious that Sachs too has feelings for Eva but, recognising Walther's unique qualities, blesses her intended union with the young knight".

I found the finale to Act III both deeply disturbing and intensely moving. A stirring chorus,

Beware! Evil tricks threaten us:
if the German people and kingdom should one day decay,
under a false, foreign rule
soon no prince would understand his people;
and foreign mists with foreign vanities
they would plant in our German land;
what is German and true none would know,
if it did not live in the honour of German Masters.
Therefore I say to you:
honour your German Masters,
then you will conjure up good spirits!
And if you favour their endeavours,
even if the Holy Roman Empire
should dissolve in mist,
for us there would yet remain
holy German Art!

Listening to the music, I thought "Nuremburg Rally". And it troubled me.

In one of the interval, I penned the following vague thoughts:

Sometimes I think it would be fun to stop people and ask 'Why are you here?' The people I tend to talk to at Opera tend to be passionate or fanatic or both - it's an addictive costly habit. I look at other people and think - you don't look capable of passion. You look humourless. You probably think that Wagner was vulgar. Is it an intellectual pursuit, because you don't look intellectual - right, like I know.

From feeling old at Carmen, I'm feeling young again. Is it Wagner, or is it merely the logistics of the 5 pm start deters the thirty-something working parent?

The concert hall was only about two-thirds full, a shame. But it suited me, because my proper seat was behind a very tall person, so I was able to sidle along to find the optimum viewing position.

I did a quick escape at the end to answer a pressing call of nature, and when I emerged from evacuating everything I had drunk all weekend, the enthusiastic applause was still going on, so I rejoined it

Quite a lot of people - especially the very elderly - were dressed up, but many more had clearly come straight from work. I wore a blouse and semi-smart trousers. There were quite a few people in jeans and t-shirt. No one in a football shirt, though!

Observer on Valkyrie

Waterloo for Wagner?

Valkyrie

It's about time I did a full review of ENO's Valkyrie the other night.

How to pitch this? Hmm. Basically, Valkyrie is the second of four operas in Wagner's Ring Cycle. The Ring Cycle is based on various Nordic and Germanic mythologies. In full, the four operas of the Tetralogy are Das Rhinegold, Die Walküre, Siegfried, and Götterdämmerung. However, because ENO is committed to opera in English, they also translate the titles. (The links are to New York's Metropolitan Opera's detailed synopsis).

The story of the Valkyrie is very simple. Siegmund seeks refuge in a hut where Sieglinde lives. Although she is married to someone else, Hunding, they fall in love and then realise that they are long-estranged twins, the children of Wotan, King of the Gods. Siegmund knows him as Walse, a mortal. He knows he must kill Hunding and calls on Walse for the magic sword (Nothung). Coincidentally, Sieglinde remembers that on her wedding day, a stranger left a sword, which no one has been able to pull out of the an ash tree.

There's going to be a fight between Siegmund and Hunding, so Wotan instructs his daughter, Brunnhilde, a warrior, his illegitimate daughter by Erda, the earth goddess, to protect Siegmund. Incidentally, Brunnhilde has 8 sisters - the Valkyries, who later perform the famous Ride.

Wotan's wife Fricka, Goddess of Marriage, tells Wotan that he must protect the marriage of Sieglinde and Hunding, rather than encourage the incestuous relationship between the twins. Wotan instructs Brunnhilde to destroy Siegmund, but when she realises how much Siegmund and Sieglinde are in love she disobeys Wotan. But Wotan destroys Nothung the Magic Sword, and Hunding kills Siegmund. Brunnhilde consoles Sieglinde with the news that she is with child, and that child will be a hero - Siegfried of the third part.

Because Brunnhilde has disobeyed Wotan, he has to banish her. She is his beloved daughter, existing only to do his will, so it breaks his heart to have to put her on a mountain in a deep sleep. He calls on Loge the God of Fire to protect her with a ring of fire, awaiting the day that a hero who knows no fear comes to rescue her. (that hero, incidentally, will be Siegfried).

Virtual Brownie point if you have got this far...

Die Walküre exists for a number of reasons. One is to explain the background to Siegfried, and why he goes to rescue Brunnhilde; 2 is for the gorgeously sumptuous lush music; and 3 is for the interpersonal relationships between, especially Siegmund and Sieglinde the twins; and Wotan and his beloved daughter Brunnhilde. In addition, of course, we have potentially an amazing visual spectacle.

On Tuesday night, the orchestra was lush, the music beautiful. Not in a "Oh I recognise that aria" way, but the harmonies, and for me, the way the brass comes through like velvet. I was very disappointed in the visual spectacle. After Rhinegold, which was full of bright dramatic colour and action, I was disappointed that Valkyrie was conducted almost totally in monochrome. I missed the bit where Brunnhilde told Sieglinde that she was with child. I also blinked and missed Siegmund's death - damn good thing there was a film crew on stage to capture it. There were some good gimmicks - trust me, you have to watch The Ride when it is televised from Glastonbury (me, I shall either be walking The Burren, or nursing the hangover of my life. Or both...).

But I suppose what got me was the lack of eroticism. The programme banged on and on about it, but I was not convinced. Sure, Sieglinde lay on the kitchen table and provocatively felt Siegmund up (much to the tutting of seriously elderly people near me - WTF did they expect). But for me a lustful grope is not erotic. Similarly, frequent silhouette shots of the twins shagging is not erotic. Nor Wotan and Brunnhilde romping, firstly on the floor, then on a hospital trolley. the eroticism is partly in the singing, and partly how they interact with each other. You know, the Acting bit - it is, after all, musical drama.

I really enjoyed it, and can't wait for Siegfried in the Autumn., but am looking even more forward to next summer at Covent Garden.

My initial reaction.

The wow factor!

I've just got back from a lovely night at ENO's Valkyrie.

I'm not saying it was perfect, but it was thoroughly enjoyable. The music is sumptuously gorgeous, especially once the orchestra warmed up half an hour into the first act.

The singing was patchy, but I loved Brunnhilde, so much so that I can't decide whether I want to be Brunnhilde or be her best friend. The Ride of the Valkyries was glorious homoerotica.

More in the morning when I've thought a bit.

UpdateConsidered piece

Germaine Greer had an essay in the programme called Fathers and Daughters

In the third act Wagner goes right to the heart of the intense and mysterious relationship between fathers and daughters, which is not so much Oedipal as Electral (and electrifying)...Wagner writes the only love scene in non-pornographuc literature between father and daughter...the usual (male) Wagner commentators...have not suspected that many of the women in the opera house feel their cheeks grow hot and their hearts pound, as a fantasy so secret they hardly knew they entertained it is acted out on stage...

...To send her into unconsciousness, he needs to do only one thing, to kiss her...Many a woman in the opera house will need the few minutes that remain before the house lights come up to regain her composure.

Er, no, Germaine. You've got it wrong again. Perhaps this is almost on a par with the 'genital mutilation is empowering and liberating' statement (I paraphrase...).

There were a few but not many empty seats, mainly odd ones just dotted around.

Tonight's entertainment

I've been sleeping all day in preparation for The Valkyrie, Coliseum, London

The Telegraph isn't very impressed, although it suggests the audience was.

Well, I hope I don't fall asleep. I have so far reserved that privilege for Shakespeare plays...

The trouble with Wagner

Passionately argued article on how to love Wagner without invading Poland, with further links appended.

Valkyries ride through the mud

ENO stage Act 3 of The Valkyries at Glastonbury.

I'm going next week, but I shall also see Acts 1 and 2, and be in comfort, with access to proper facilities. But I shall report back, and pay special attention to Act 3 and link back to it come Glastonbury time...

Incest begins at home

I recently found a Google /Usenet Group, which is often puerile and occasionally enlightening. I got a little bit carried away by the great questions emananting from the fact that Siegmund and Sieglinde were siblings yet conceived and bore Seigfried, who subsequently promised himself to Brunnhilde who was the half-sister of Siegmund and Sieglinde.

Incest is, arguably, the very last taboo in our society. Nobody talks about it. I'm sure if you were bring it up at the dinner table, outside of very specific contexts such as the Ring of the Nibelung, you would be shunned by polite society.

When I was a councillor, a couple came to my surgery asking for assistance in obtaining a housing transfer. Nothing unusual in that. What was unusual was that they wanted to transfer from a three bedroomed to a one bedroomed flat. That should normally be straightforward, and is often accompanied by a cash incentive. However, there was a stumbling block. Housing were being deliberately unresponsive.

The reason was the couple's children had been taken into care. As far as Housing were concerned, this was probably only a medium term measure, and therefore, it would be a misjudgement to move them to a smaller flat, where they would then be overcrowded. However, the couple - who actually struck me as being very pleasant, nice, if a bit simple - said cheerfully to me "They're in care and we don't want them back..."

It takes a lot to shock me but I was quite shocked by that. And, as this post perhaps testifies, I am haunted to this day by that case. I later discussed it with my mother, a professional social worker, now retired, but then she was working for her Local Authority.

Instantly, she said to me "Are they brother and sister?" As soon as she said that, my instincts told me that they were. Plus the fact that one of them had said "We were in care -in a children's home". Then, thinking about it, I wondered - based entirely on prejudice, by the way - whether they themselves were not the product of inbreeding.

To this day, I wonder why the children had to be taken into care. My mother - admittedly old-school, trained in the 1950s - gave me the impression that she took it ot be inevitable that children be taken into care. Of course, for all I know there may have been other abuse/neglect/ issues, but it's not uncommon throughout the Western World to take such children into care. This actually goes against the modern philosophy to try and keep the family together unless the children are actually At Risk.

We've all met people as we go through life that we are convinced are inbred (and I don't just mean the British Royal Family and half of Jerry Springer's guests), and we snigger (to ourselves, of course...). I just wonder whether it is a self-perpetuating taboo, that we shudder when we think of it because we are conditioned to, but actually, it's no big deal..

BTW, I'm neither advocating nor condoning . Frankly, the idea of having relations with even 'legal' relations leaves me entirely cold.

Incidentally, an advert on the site is "Test for paternity before the child is born. Lord Chancellor approved." I never knew that was possible. Must be a new development. It's gonna put the kybosh on a lot of Springer/Trisha-type TV shows...

Walkure

Fantastic review of the Met's Die Walkure, which is being broadcast on the radio on Saturday. In the UK, it's 6.30pm on Radio 3, or find your station here.

There were once The Three Tenors. Now, there's only The One -- still singing splendidly.

You know Im going to be taping it - a great advantage of digital TV is the ability to tape a five -and-three-quarter hour radio programme.

I think I'll need a day off sick next week...

Although Newsday obviously had a bad night out:

Levine's ideal pace defines the border between rapture and catatonia, but in this performance, slipped across the line and back several times... Fortunately, Deborah Voigt as Sieglinde coated the music with her demiglace soprano and kept trying to snap Domingo out of his cautious stupor. At five hours (including two intermissions), "Die Walküre" lasts long enough for singers to pass through several career phases between the prelude and the final curtain, but Voigt remained in her prime throughout.

Observing Rhinegold

Messing about on the river and calling for surtitles.

Funny how every review mentions the Pole Dancers...

The Rhinegold

The Guardian reviews last night's production of The Rhinegold at the Colisseum, which I attended. (As a parenthetical comment, I realised a few months ago that, apart from Ride of the Valkyries, I know very little Wagner at all, and determined that I was going to learn, so I have booked for the first three in the tetralogy).

On the whole I agree with the conclusions of the critic.

More general impressions. I am unsure about the performance of opera in English - unless it is written in English. Perhaps because, by chance, the first opera I went to was also the first time supertitles were used in this country, which probably influenced me. As a student, we often went to Opera North, who perform in English, without supertitles. My friend used to mock me, saying that supertitles are a gimmick that will never catch on. I wrote a cheque to her (actually for Evita tickets), where I inserted into her name "I want to see an opera in English".

Despite the multi-billion pound refurbishment of the Colisseum, they didn't install supertitles, instead, are looking for £20 million to install a seatback system. Not sure how that works, apparently they have it at the Met, but I would have thought that you would be constantly changing your view from seatback to stage.

However, for better or worse, ENO perform in English. And actually, despite my prejudice, I soon got accustomed to it and think it's no bad thing. However, it doesn't necessarily mean that all the words are intelligible, so I still think supertitles would be a good thing. And it can't be that expensive to install, because when I went to Figaro back in 1985 they had installed them for a very limited run at the all-purpose Palace Theatre in Manchester. When BBC4 broadcast The Tempest, they used subtitles, despite it being in English.

I'm not sure, either, of the modern setting of the opera. Considering that the main point of the Ring Cycle is ancient mythology, and considering, as the programme itself commented:

Today's generation, weaned on Tolkein's Lord of the Rings, Pullman's Northern Lights trilogy and fantasist computer games, will recognise The Rhinegold as the prototypical action-packed story of gods, demons, giants, cunning tricks, deadly curses and magic spells

, it seems a bit - patronising? - to remove the ancientness, especially in a week where LOTR picks up 11 Oscars.

The second scene, where, amongst other things, Wotan uses his mobile phone, caused a certain amount of titters where I was sitting. In front of me were two opera queens; one shook his head negatively throughout the modern scenes.

Just as they were about to cross over into Valhalla, they walked across a bridge that was, surely, the Big Brother bridge, surrounded by paparazzi - I half expected Davina McCall to appear. Yet, when they actually crossed into Valhalla, they did so across a gorgeous rope suspension bridge suspended in the sky through clouds of mists that was truly magical.

As for the music - well, Wagner didn't write pretty tunes, but there is something about the richness of the orchestration that is compelling.

At the end, one of the opera queens in front of me, booed the Director, Phyllida Lloyd, and called out "Rubbish, rubbish". How exciting, I thought. It's terribly fashionable to boo the Director.

In the bar beforehand, I overheard someone saying to their friend, "I started coming here in the Seventies because I hated Covent Garden. It was full of people who knew nothing about the music and were just there to be seen and be pretentious."

As for the much-talked-about refurbishment, well, it looked absolutely gorgeously sumptuous. Very effective air conditioning. there were all sorts of people wandering around saying "Oh wow! It's wonderful! Fabulous!" The excitement in the Ladies loos was barely controllable - apparently there used to be only three cubicles and now there's maybe twelve. The wash hand basins are interesting - a porcelain bowl, into which the water pours from a wall-mounted button-operated tap. I didn't go to the Star Bar which is said to have one of the best views in London. I shall leave that to a light summer's evening.

April Update Just discovered review from Gay.com.