Gertsamtkunstwerk

Messiah at the Barbican

I only bought my ticket for this after having been sorely disappointed by ENO's banal and pointless staged version the previous week. I am not sure why I did not book it previously, considering the mouth-watering line-up.

It was close to as perfect a Messiah experience as can be, although I stand by my contemporaneous tweet that it was very pleasant and technically excellent, but never passionate.

Our performers were The English Concert, with Harry Bicket leading from the harpsichord, and the small but perfectly formed Choir of the English Concert, with Lucy Crowe, Patricia Bardon, Allan Clayton and James Rutherford as the four soloists, in what I consider to be the 'traditional' array of soloists, no pesky countertenors or schoolboys* to disrupt the balance.

The gentlemen wore traditional penguin suits, the ensemble ladies plain black dresses or separates. The female soloists wore lavish concert dress. I wasn't sure about Patricia Bardon's, with its weird pink lined cape effect. Lucy Crowe's red dress with asymmetric embroidery looked gorgeous and really suited her. I wish now I had taken a photo, because I just cannot  describe dresses! And it seems that Intermezzo wasn't there, or if so, has not yet posted!

Overall I can't fault the performance by choir or orchestra. Not that they were perfect, but in a piece so familiar it is inevitable that will spot flubs, interpretations different from the familiar and a failure to achieve that goosebump moment like that favourite recording. And, of course, with period instruments, one can always expect surprises! I particularly liked the sound of the high strings in several passages of extreme staccato. And the altos in the choir sounded delicious.

I am extremely rubbish at noticing cuts in performance. However well I know the music of a work - and there are few works I know better than Messiah - I can rarely spot cuts. I did spot that  He Was Despiséd, was performed without giving his back to his smiters but it was, nevertheless the outstanding number of the evening. I daresay there were other cuts, too, but I am the least reliable source on such matters. 

It wouldn't be accurate to describe the cast as 'stellar' but impressive would be no exaggeration. Patricia Bardon, mezzo,  was outstanding. She has such a rich creamy voice, especially in the lower part of her range, and she is obviously intimate with this work. Lucy Crowe, soprano, gave yet another impressive performance; I have yet to hear her and be disappointed.

I was very interested in young tenor Allan Clayton, having heard him last week as Cassio. I don't think his performance this week was as strong as last week, but, nevertheless, he was very pleasing to the ear. I do have a concern that he could go down the wrong road and end up one of those bland 'English tenors' types, but this is by no means inevitable.

I did feel with both Allan and Lucy that they were lacking something when it came to stagecraft. It's difficult to say what, because obviously there is little scope to characterise the parts, and any over-acting would be highly inappropriate. It was just a bit noticeable alongside Patricia Bardon's instinctive communication with the audience.

I was disappointed with James Rutherford, and disappointed he wasn't the originally billed Matthew Rose. It seems unfair to criticise because he was technically proficient, he was always on pitch, and there were no concerns about breath control, wobble or whatever. His diction and enunciation are of the highest order. It is absolutely immaterial that he is in danger of morphing into Robbie Coltrane, and he really should get rid of the dodgy 80s style fringe. His higher notes are really quite pleasant, and it really isn't his fault that I'm rubbish at hearing basses properly.

All that having been said, I was just left with a feeling that he wasn't really into the part. It's also not fair to compare to the very best examples I have on CD, but his performance lacked a certain je ne sais quoi. It is not unusual to find singers with an excellent basic instrument, good technique, and sound musicianship,  and lacking in the indefinable element, part charisma and part communication that would make them special. Perhaps he would communicate better if he got his fringe cut off - it does seem to exist almost separately from the rest of him.

All of the different elements worked well, and worked well together, and it was never less than competent. But it lacked the electricity, the spark, the chemistry, the passion that makes for a really great Messiah performance. But after the ENO fiasco, I was very pleased that I went!

* why never choir girls?

Winterstürme

From La Scala on Wednesday night. This was filmed clandestinely by someone in the audience and thus has the expected limitations, but despite those limitations is well worth a look. Plácido sounds great, as does Nina Stemme as Sieglinde

Half a minute of the 20-minute applause

And meeting fans afterwards

40th Anniversary Die Walküre at La Scala

UPDATE, UPDATE!!!

A first hand report from Fedora who travelled to Milan from Madrid for the occasion, and because it was so cold, went for a walk round the outside of the opera house and...oh, you'll have to read it

On Wednesday evening, to celebrate 40 years of performing at La Scala, Milan - the world's most famous opera house*, Plácido Domingo his signature role (one of them!) Siegmund in Act I of Wagner's Die Walküre. I think it was well received!

Ovazione di 20 minuti per Placido Domingo

Alla Scala in delirio tutti pazzi per Placido

Insomma, non veniva da dire: che bel Siegmund per un 68enne o quel che è, ma: che bel Siegmund in generale. Qualche fatica, è ovvio, si sente e qualche prudenza pure; ma la voce è più ferma di quella di molti trentenni, il titanico «Wälse!» tenuto come da spartito e il la acuto finale una nota vera, non uno strillo

Domingo, un trionfo il galà per i quarant'anni di Scala

They stood and clapped...for 20 minutes

Actually, a pretty rubbish article, which states it was a 'valedictory appearance', before saying it was no cruise into the sunset, and no swansong. So, it wasn't a valedictory appearance then. (Also, the correspondent claims to be in Milan but has lifted most of his description from the Stampa article linked above).

However, I had to include it for this photo, with friends from Switzerland clearly visible on the first row!

On Monday night Plácido was at the opening night Carmen, and has been quoted as giving the production high praise - but I suspect that if he considered it bobbins, he wouldn't say so - far too diplomatic!

Danny De Vito was in attendance at Die Walküre

* apart from Sydney whose fame lies in its exterior architecture rather than its opera!

Religious nuttery and bad journalism combine in one article

Teenage girls to get contraceptive pill in pilot scheme

In a nutshell, there is a small pilot in Lambeth and Southwark to make oral contraceptives available from pharmacies rather than via a doctor.

I have read the article several times and I cannot find any specific reference to there being an upper age limit. Clicking through to the Q&A, I find that the scheme is available for any woman for whom an oral contraceptive is medically suitable. It doesn't take genius to work out that probably a 41-year old smoker would be refused oral contraception - but would be advised on more suitable methods. The Q&A says it isn't particularly aimed at women who don't have existing arrangements with their GP or Community Sexual Health team, so, in practice, it is aimed at much younger women. But there is nothing that specifically prevents a 30 year old accessing it, or even a 45+ woman, if they don't have existing contraceptive arrangements.*

I have several concerns that are partly addressed in the Q&A but not at all in the BBC article. This service is actually a contraceptive advice service which may lead to prescription of oral contraceptives. My instinct would be to say that for teenagers and any women who absolutely don't want to be pregnant under any circumstances, probably an injection or implant is more sensible than remembering to take a daily pill; also, it is extremely important to advise about barrier methods, for prevention of STIs which may cause infertility or other gynaecological malfunctions. None of this is discussed in the article.

Instead we get a rentaquote from the 'Christian Medical Fellowship', a self-appointed guardian of morals - in reality, some perverted dirty man who wants to control women's bodies, sexuality and fertility (sort of creep who ought to be locked up). He cites the lack of evidence that this will be effective. Gosh, it's a new scheme, it's being piloted! I guess that part of the pilot is to assess evidence which is yet to be collected.  (I hope - one has little faith in post-implementation reviews actually happening!)

Before the quote attributed to him is the following paragraph:

The pilot project is likely to attract criticism from those concerned that making contraception more readily available to 16-year-old girls might encourage them to have sex.

To which I can only say - your point is?

The age of consent in England is 16 (in fact, careful reading of the statute makes it 13 in certain circumstances). I fully accept that fear of an unwanted pregnancy is a major obstacle for many women, but the quote assumes or implies that 16 year old women having sex is a bad thing. 16 year old women having sex under duress and with inadequate contraception and/or STI prevention is definitely a bad thing, but this paragraph implies that basically 16 year olds shouldn't have sex, shouldn't have contraceptive advice and shouldn't be on the Pill.

If there are persuasive arguments to suppress the sexuality of 16-year-olds, legislate it. I think in practice the Christians actually don't want people to have sex unless married (and probably then only for purposes of breeding) and they will do anything to chip away at the freedom we have nowadays to express and fulfil our sexuality.

Back in the real world, teenagers have sex absolutely irrespective of the law, and Religious Nutters. I welcome any move that tries to make this safer.  I hope that there will be a full review of the pilot to see if, in practice, it has made the difference that is hoped, and whether it is cost-effective. I want it to determine which factors make the difference:  opening hours and proximity of appointments, or are there more profound reasons eg scared of going to a judgemental GP who is a friend of the parents or whatever.

It seems that the BBC, in its efforts to be impartial, whenever there is an article on sexual health and reproduction always have to have refer to religious-oriented pressure group obsessed by other people's sex lives (one suspects as a result of their own sexual frustration).

Where's the quote from Lambeth Youth Council, where's the investigative reporting on the possible drawbacks of the scheme, some of which I have outlined? Oh, wait, that would require more effort than merely rewriting the Southwark PCT Press Release and reproducing** a quote from this CMF that was probably spoonfed to them.

It disgusts me that an issue that is complex and important is reduced to a trade of sound-bites. It's a disservice to accountability and democracy and ultimately does nothing to advance the cause of sexual health.

* I realise it will be rare but not freakish for women to embark on their first sexual relationship with a man late in life, or maybe they're in a new relationship after being with a man who is sterile (through vasectomy or chemotherapy, say) or maybe they've been using condoms to prevent STIs but are now in a stable relationship and want to rethink their options

** see what I did there!

A silly lie

The other night I was at the Barbican for Messiah. Tickets helpfully state which door to use to enter the auditorium, and doors are clearly marked. I walked up to my allocated door, where there was a surprisingly large and slow-moving queue . I see little point in walking a long way to join the back of a queue when I reason that the queue will eventually diminish; I am careful to be a tail-ender rather than a straggler. I soon saw the cause of the queue - just one steward on the door who was probably new and took an age to check each ticket and direct people to their seats.

I was one of the last people to enter the hall  but I still had enough time to make myself comfortable before the conductor's arrival signalled time to settle down.

I walked up to my seat, on the aisle, on the front row. I was momentarily disconcerted by seeing someone's coat on the seat, so I turned to the woman in the next seat and said "Excuse me please". The woman next to her (they seemed to be together) reached over and moved her coat.

I thought nothing more of it. I've done it myself - anticipated the non-arrival of someone in an adjacent seat and used the space to my advantage. I think it's human nature, not just in concert halls, but on public transport, in bars and other public spaces. I want you to be in no doubt, I really wasn't upset or stressed about it. It was just a 'thing' that was resolved with the absolute minimum of fuss from both sides.

Believe me, I was far more disturbed by the constant chorus of coughing and throat-clearing that punctuated most of the performance, and caused wry, almost incredulous, smirks from the orchestra when they paused before the Pastoral Symphony to allow for the admittance of latecomers.

After the interval, when I was re-taking my seat, the woman next-but-one to me, the coat owner, challenged me as to what was my seat number. I told her, she asked whether I was sure. I was absolutely sure. She suggested that possibly my seat was the next number up and across the aisle. I was firm that I had gone to the right seat.

She explained that they don't usually sell that seat which is why she put her coat there. More in the way of justification than apology.  I said something along the lines of I normally go downstairs but had only bought my ticket last week, and there had been nothing downstairs that appealed; I also explained that there had a been a long queue to enter the hall. I'm way too civilised for my own good!

Afterwards, I was thinking, and could not help concluding she was talking poppycock. The seat I had was sold as 'restricted view, hand rail'. The handrail did not restrict my view in any significant way that couldn't be corrected by a minute adjustment of eyes or head. It had the advantage of being on the front row and at the aisle. 

Now, I can't prove her wrong. I look at several upcoming concerts and find that that seat is unavailable, as are the ones that she and her companion were sitting in and many others that are central and front. Other concerts are listed as 'sold out' so I can't determine whether they are sold out including or excluding that seat. But it defies logic.

For any of those sold-out concerts coming up or for last week's Otello, there would be countless people delighted to get a front row aisle seat, regardless that it blocks off a tiny section of the stage at any given time. It defies logic that the Barbican declines to put it on sale (with 'restriction' warning.) Perhaps it is one they habitually hold back as a 'house seat', either to give as a freebie to some ligger or else for logistical reasons.

I think I am reasonably good at spotting malice and I don't think this woman was being malicious. I tend to ascribe apparent stupidity to actual stupidity.I don't think she was being stupid. I concluded that she was just being shabby and dishonourable. I didn't feel she had any need to explain or apologise, but given that she felt the need, it would have been far more gracious to say "I'm sorry, I assumed that because the seat was empty at 7pm that it would be empty for the evening, my mistake."

I don't even mind the implication that I had invaded her perceived right to use the 'usually' vacant seat for her convenience. I just see no need for post hoc fictional justifications that blame someone else, in this case The Barbican. Having been entirely unperturbed by the coat-on-a-seat, I was left feeling at the very least peeved that she had lied to me in a way that was a bit contemptuous, treating me as a bit of a fool.

Sales call

A good while ago I was a customer of a company that has now gone into liquidation. I know about this because I was called by their erstwhile sub-contractors, who have taken over their customer list. Naturally, they were calling to try and sell their services to me.

They called just as I had some dishes being completed in CafeWorld on Facebook* so I was okay to listen to his spiel while I clicked on the game. When he had finished, I said "I'm not interested..." in calm, factual, detached tone.

At which point he said "There's no need to get upset, if you pay..."

I interrupted him "I'm not upset, it's just, when I say, I'm not interested, that means the conversation's over."

"So you have made alternative arrangements?" (or words to that effect).

"I'm saying goodbye now and ending this call."

I realise he has a job to do, that selling products and services to customers is what makes the world go round. I really am not upset that they called me. It's a reasonable time of day, I could have chosen not to take the call, it seemed legitimate considering they have taken over the list of a company which I used to be a customer of.

So why attack me just because I said I'm not interested? It ensures that I do get upset! And guarantees I won't do business with them. I can't think of any situation where a potential customer responds positively to confrontation or insult (okay the mildest of insults, but still!). I am so tempted to suggest that he's in the wrong job, and would be better off in something where he doesn't have to deal with the public, but I can't be bothered!

*most of my friends have given up, but there is one friend who is constantly a level or two ahead of me and stupidly, I won't quit until I overtake her (or until Christmas, whichever comes first)

Photo of the Day

A few weeks ago I declared that I would copy loads of other people and take part in the Photo 365 Project, as one could grandly call it. For a few days I stuck at it, and then something happened - I was feeling lousy, or the weather was dreary, or something, not important, or my diary was jam-packed during daylight hours and I didn't take a photo.

I looked at the photos sitting in my 'To Edit' folder, and thought - are you actually lacking in opportunities and inspiration to take photos? Even now, I have almost 300 photos taken when we were in Spain in September that I haven't edited (or decided they're not worth the effort!).

I have 30 photos from when I went on an unplanned stroll around the City of London, 40 from our ride out to Wimbledon Park, over 40 still from Stephen and Jelena's wedding, nearly 60 from when I went for a walk round near my mother's, and over 20 of the nephews and nieces, plus assorted others. Why on earth would I want to take more photos when I still have those to occupy me through winter. Spring will come again and the outings and excursions will recommence (once I get my brake pads fixed!), and there will be more photos.

In the meantime, here's one I prepared earlier:

Lifeguards on Villajoyosa Beach as the storm was rising, and we escaped into a pub, fortunately it was fruit cake day, so we got lucky.

Fat Girl Makes a Splash

It is becoming a bit embarrassing, the size of my arse. Actually, that's never been a problem. You can call me all sorts of fat-names but lardarse isn't the best of them.

The problem is my general lardiness. I notice it in my bingo wings and flabby thighs. Aggh no! I have a litany of excuses for my failure to exercise of late.

When I took to the pool in August 2008 and soon after, bought a bike,  I bet you thought I wouldn't last. I didn't think that, either, truth be told, so my recent lapse, though a matter of regret, is not terminal.

The excuses range from a cold straight after coming back from holiday, long weekend at my mother's, cold wet windy weather, and worn-out brake pads. Which is a saga on inactivity in itself!

But I went swimming tonight. Only the second (or possibly third) time since I got back from holiday. The good news is that I am still not back to square one - that first occasion, when I couldn't even manage a length without stopping, and the water seemed oppressively deep.

The good news is at one point I totally zoned and stopped thinking about my body, the water or my surroundings, and I just swam.

The bad news. I'm still rubbish.

Pausing in between every set of two lengths. Pathetic. And because it's December, I was by far the worst swimmer in the pool. I presume it will close down during the Christmas break (which has annoyed me about swimming pools ever since I got my six metres certificate in about 1974), and then I want it to be clear: I'm not just there because of a short-lived New Year Resolution!

At home it was obvious I deserved a treat

No, no the whole packet! Obviously, I don't actually approve of these things, but there's this man who comes into the house bearing them.

Look at the brown ones, chocolate cream caramel wafers. Each biscuit is wrapped individually in brown dyed plastic. Four of them are placed in a clear plastic bag, and then along with the blue foil-wrapped ones placed on a plastic tray, before being sealed in blue and brown dyed plastic bag.

I am pretty certain that at least one of those packing items is entirely redundant. I remember when I were a lass, chocolate biscuits would come with a lot less packaging than that.

These aren't any chocolate biscuits, these are Marks and Spencer's chocolate biscuits. M&S that trumpets its 'Plan A' 'because there's no Plan B' who prides itself on reducing waste and caring deeply, with passion, about the environment (and, of course, about the positive image and consequent sales generated by appearing to care).

(crappy photo taken on phone because I CBA with hassle of proper camera!)

Religious nutter froths at the mouth

More fool me for reading the Daily Fail at lunchtime, but I could not resist this one:

Church leader's fury at Ann Summers 'horny' XXXmas campaign

A church leader has blasted Ann Summers's advertising slogans in the run-up to Christmas, branding them 'offensive to Christians'.

The Ann Summers store on Grainger Street, Newcastle, uses the mottos: 'Have a horny Christmas' and 'Merry XXXmas' to advertise its sex toys and underwear.

The Very Rev Chris Dalliston, Dean of Newcastle, said the commercialisation of Christmas should not come at the expense of its true meaning.

Splendid, can't resist a good nutter and a prize idiot.

I mean, where to start! 

This self-appointed 'leader', elected by no-one and accountable to no-one takes it upon himself to express views that many people may find offensive. He has as much as right to do that as Ann Summers has to say 'We wish you a horny Christmas' (illustrated by antlers in place of horns!). And they have as much right as him.

He points out that it would be offensive to Christians because of the 'commercialisation of Christmas'. Oh yeah? So why isn't he attacking Tesco, Marks and Spencer, Toys R Us or John Lewis, all of whom are commercialising Christmas just as much.

Indeed, if he was so concerned about the insidious nature of commercialisation, why not raise questions about exploitation of labour, often child labour in developing countries, or about the carbon cost of transporting all the Christmas tat from its Third World Factories?

Because he actually couldn't give a toss about 'commercialisation'. Why should he, when his salary - considerably above average for the region - is paid by the Church of England which gets its income from property holdings such as Gateshead's Metro Shopping Centre?

It's sex he's offended by. Not that that is actually about sex, unless you want it to be. If he said that it might cause a child to ask awkward questions of its parent, he might have a point - if the child was sufficiently interested in reading and asking questions, and had never watched TV, or listened to adults talking;  and had parents who were capable neither of saying "Shaddap brat we're shopping" "Oh I don't know!" or "Oh, look they're antlers, just like Rudolph's, not horns"

But no, he's freaking out at the thought of adults having sex purely for pleasure, at any time of the year, not just Christmas. It might offend Baby Jesus, after all where he did come from but sex...okay, bad example there, but...

And this crashing idiot of above average salary (paid for by the shoppers of neighbouring Gateshead) but below average IQ rolls out the same old boring cliché about the true meaning of Christmas. He says:

it is about having awareness of the spiritual significance of Christmas as a celebration of Christ's birth.

Way too stupid to have a clue how his Christian Church stole the Pagan festival of Saturnalia the Winter Solstice orgy. So, in actual fact, it is Saturnalia that Ann Summers is commercialising, not his festival.

I love it when these stories of local stupidity get in the national press so that everybody can see just how stupid they are!

The name of the tosser again - Chris Dalliston: obviously at the back of the queue when his god was distributing the brains.

40 years in Milan

As anybody who knows anything about opera knows, the new season in Milan always begins on 7  December (today), as it is the Feast Day of Sant Ambrogio, the patron saint of Milan. (I always find this confusing, because the school that my brother and many of my male friends attended was called St Ambrose, but this was a sneaky anticipation of the canonisation of St Ambrose Barlow, who, it seems isn't patron saint either of Chorlton or Astley).

The opening of the season at Milan is considered a Big Deal, and indeed can be seen at cinemas tonight in Covent Garden, Chelsea, Wimbledon, and the epicentre of operatic cinema, Ambleside. Tonight's performance is Carmen, with Jonas Kaufmann and Erwin Schrott in the leading male roles (a case of too much testosterone to be entirely healthy - hunkentenor and barihunk together: gosh that knife fight in the mountains will be quite something), the title role being taken by a mezzo unfamiliar to me.

Forty years ago the season also opened on 7 December.

Of course, back in those days, it was not possible to see such an event, not even in Ambleside, and, if the truth be told, I don't think my parents would have let me go if it had been possible!

The opera being performed was Ernani (a lovely Verdian work that IMO does not get performed as often as it should).

The lead that night was one of the emerging young (28 years old) stars of the opera world; to mark the occasion there will be a special gala on Wednesday, sadly not being shown in cinemas in Covent Garden, Chelsea, Wimbledon or even Ambleside.

The gala will consist mostly of Act I of Die Walküre. Kwanchul Youn, of whom I know little sings Hunding. Nina Stemme as Sieglinde ought to be worth hearing for its own sake (you will recall I found her Isolde to be one of the highlights of a highlight-packed year).

And the Siegmund is that one-time youthful erstwhile Ernani, Plácido Domingo.

Or to put it far more succinctly:  Gran Galà alla Scala per festeggiare il tenore, che canta il primo atto della wagneriana «Die Walküre»

More L.A. Tamerlano

Placido Domingo brings Baroque opera strongly to life in L.A.
Polishing a dusty gem

Plácido Domingo, at 68 still in formidable voice, has the ability to inspire the adventurous among current singers and supporters...he plays the conquered sultan with his customary intelligence and fervor, painting a proud and passionate man in telling strokes.

(A decently written piece is spoilt at the end by saying he added Siegfried to his rep this season. Er no. If they mean Siegmund, that was knocking on for twenty years ago!)

Excellent Singing - Handel and Rossini from Los Angeles Opera

All of the singing was excellent on this occasion. Domingo handled his coloratura with ease while giving a powerful and passionate dramatic rendition of Bajazet's last days. The last act arioso in which he addresses Asteria was monumentally moving.

Meanwhile, Hispanics for Los Angeles Opera hosted its annual Plácido Domingo Awards dinner, honouring among others, Juan Diego Flórez, who by sheer chance happened to be in town for Barber of Seville. Details in the Los Angeles Times: Party scene: Plácido Domingo Awards Dinner  and Placido Domingo Awards Dinner honors Juan Diego Florez and Living in Peru: Placido Domingo Awards Dinner honors Peruvian Juan Diego Florez

Simon Boccanegra in Berlin, on YouTube

This is billed as a 'trailer', for what I don't know - edited clips. (The production looks even worse than has been described, but c'est la vie!)

And a bonus 'after hours' clip

Round up of the reviews of Otello at the Barbican

Otello stile inglese (Intermezzo)

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

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

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

piccolo-flecked lightening strafing the horizon

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

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

Guardian

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

Financial Times

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

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

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

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

What's on Stage

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

MusicOMH

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

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

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

A new Otello is born!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lunch with a religious nutter

I was at a training day in Thursday: sit in a room in the basement of a hotel, their 'Conference Suite', a posh title to market a space that lacks natural light or air. People with varying presentation skills, armed only with Powerpoint, talking with varying degrees of interest about subjects which almost certainly won't interest my blog readers. (This was organised by my Institute, not my employer).

A chap gave a very interesting presentation. He knew how to present, not using his Powerpoint as a crutch. I thought he was probably an Evangeical preacher.  It might have been the shoulder length hair with massive bald patch, the deluded idea that having  a really bad haircut demonstrates that one is a non-conformist, a rebel, and not of the mainstream. Plus, the badge with a dove on a cross. I have to confess that I tend to get my sects confused, never remembering which branch of Christianity crucifies doves and which nails fishes, but I think they're all basically the same.

He did something which I always find irritating. He made several references in his speech to his personal life. Needless to say,  he is long-time married with offspring. I have found that only married breeding men bring their private life into a presentation (with Powerpoint). I have never heard any man mention that he hasn't bred, his life partner is a man, or he is going through a messy divorce. I have never once heard a woman do so. Women who mention their children are frequently judged to be insufficiently committed to work.

By chance, I sat with this man for lunch, he seemed pleasant, charming and, initially, an engaging conversationalist. He launched into a long anecdote about how he had ruined his passport by accidentally leaving it in a shirt he put into a washing machine (this is a common occurrence, according to the Passport Office).

I was amused by the way he told the story, being all proud that in his wife's absence he had managed to work the washing machine and had checked all his trouser pockets.

Part of me wanted to say something, but I wasn't sure what. Anyone who uses a washing machine frequently occasionally makes a mistake; if you point out that he's a fool, you risk being accused of being humourless blah de blah. You need pinpoint precision, otherwise you risk double standards. However, I find it weird to discuss detailed domestic arrangements with complete strangers*.

He needed his replacement in a hurry, he got his pastor to countersign it (irrelevant detail; also, is it really wise to assume that any old pastor, preacher, reverend or imam is really sufficiently trustworthy to be a counter-signatory?**). The point of his story was that his photographs were too cheerful, causing a hitch in the application. He went away and prayed in Durham Cathedral,  then received a phonecall to say it was okay. Suddenly, he was in my face, almost aggressive, demanding that  I agree this was a miracle caused by prayer.

Which of course is complete and utter bollocks.

There is nothing that suggests prayer makes any objective difference. That is not to say that it is completely pointless, if you happen to be of that inclination. There is a lot of evidence (and common sense) that people face challenges more easily and successfully in a positive and calm frame of mind. It doesn't make much difference if that is achieved by meditation, exercise, meticulous planning, avoidance strategies, poetry, music, sex or praying; whatever suits the individual. It reeks of arrogance to credit the solving of a minor bureaucratic hitch to one's ability to pray.

Many misguided people pray in vain for similar events; many manage to get them resolved without mumbling away to a myth.   If someone actually believes that prayer can alter the course of events, isn't it selfish to pray for the speedy resolution of a minor bureaucratic hitch, when instead they could pray for someone else's life-affecting intractable problem.

People most often go on about the power of prayer at a time of illness. To sneer at their stupidity would be an act of cruelty, so I really missed a trick when there was an opportunity to sneer at trivia, but I don't feel comfortable being rude in a professional setting.

It's quite extraordinary how prayer has got more powerful in perfect synchronicity with medical science. Indeed, it has got so powerful that it isn't even necessary these days to pray to be saved from smallpox.

Those people all those years ago who prayed desperately to be saved from the certain death of toothache, weren't their prayers good enough?  They were poor ignorant uneducated and, also, God decided that their prayers just weren't good enough.

Of course, the religious types would claim that God doesn't always answer your prayers the way you want them to, he works in mysterious ways, what you think is a bad thing in your small life is actually a good thing in the Masterplan.

So, in other words, they admit that actually, praying for something has no effect on the course of events. God's doing do whatever he likes, anyway. That's when things don't turn out well. They should remember that when they do turn out well.

The closing salvo was to announce to the lunch table in general, that, really, having children was simply the greatest blessing that could possibly have happened in his life. "Don't you agree?" he demanded of the woman sitting opposite me, who flinched and floundered and shook her head in a confused panic. Sometimes, there really is no excuse for bad manners.

How rude to make so many assumptions about the people you are talking to. I get rather fed up of these religious nutters who have to bring up their obsession at every opportunity. I know instinctively, not to introduce partisan politics to such as conversation. It's generally considered bad form to assume that your companions are into football or Reality TV, so why on earth do we keep giving the religious nutters a free pass.

Finally, everybody at that event was an auditor. We are Trained and Paid to be Sceptical; it's what we do. He must be a very stupid man if he thinks his evangelical preaching is going to make some instant convert out of a professional sceptic. I realise that people's views do change, but this happens generally as a result of life-changing events, not small talk over lunch. Perhaps these nutters think that if they drip drip drip away at every opportunity, eventually people will be worn down.

* which is different from writing them on a blog; the blog reader can close the tab, the person who sits next to you by chance at lunch can't reasonably walk away

** just about every other countersignatory has an accountability to their employer, professional body, licensing body or electorate that would militate against false declaration - I can't see how the 'Pastor' of some fringe church,(as opposed to a vicar or priest employed by recognisable sizeable national organisations), accountable to no one, can be considered to have standing in society.

Messiah at ENO

I have walked out of performances several times,  generally deciding to cut my losses and put it down to experience. This is the first time I feel I deserve at least a partial refund.

I showed faith in ENO by booking my tickets in advance. Sure, I got a discount for bulk buying but a mediocre seat still cost me over £40 and they are now trying to offload decent seats for a tenner. At £40+ I am entitled to a professional performance. Which is what I got from conductor Lawrence Cummings and his band, and from talented young soprano Sophie Bevan.

Brindley Sharratt demonstrated his strengths as a comprimario. Sadly, he was in a major role and he just was not up to it. There was nothing really bad about him but there was no substance either - and a decided lack of trill. Particularly bad was his failed attempt to sing sh-a-a-a-a-a-ke (all nations). His The people that walked in darkness was as limp as a wet fish. I most certainly didn't wish to hear his Why Do the Nations?, the non plus ultra of bass arias,  which I often sing in the shower!

You only need a mediocre tenor for Messiah and that is exactly what we got in John Mark Ainsley. One of the most over-rated singers I have encountered, proof that being an 'ENO star' means very little on a global scale. He strained, his voice had no core or ping, and his lack of legato was woeful.

You do need a very good mezzo, or even better, a contralto for Messiah. Instead, we got Catherine Wyn-Rogers. Search the internet and it seems she is both: mezzo and contralto. She is the provincial librarian of mezzos, the playgroup co-ordinator of contraltos.

On the positive side, most of her notes were on pitch, and several of them sounded vaguely mellifluous. What overwhelmed was her singing by rote, her lack of understanding what she was singing, the phrasing that consisted of stressing every syllable that coincided with a downbeat.

She looked lost wandering around the vast stage, and when she tried to imbue the words with meaning, it was giving a shrug, a skip and a forced smile to reflect O thou that tellest glad tidings of Zion. (yeah, it really was that contrived)

My decision to leave at the end of Act 1 was in no small measure the realisation that if I stayed, I would have to endure her singing He was despiséd, which I was sure would be on the Treleaven-as-Siegfried scale of awfulness.

All of this would have been bearable in a concert venue and with a ticket costing considerably less than £42.50, but we also had to endure the "Community Chorus".

It was as if Gareth Malone had rounded up a random section of yokels, coached them for a few weeks and presented them on the stage of a leading opera company as if they were professional. And, that, in effect, is what it was, but minus Gareth Malone.

Oh, full marks all round for trying, blah de blah, I certainly wouldn't have got past the first audition yadda yadda, but pur-lease, they made Bryn's feeble backing choir from the other week seem like the Huddersfield Choral Society by comparison. I certainly wasn't going to hang around to hear them massacre Hallelujah, screechy sopranos,  lugubrious basses and delayed cues.

They were insipid and disappointing; for example, the bit in They shall purify  - 'that they may offer unto the Lord' should be soaring swelling wall of sound sending shivers down my spine. It simply didn't happen.

Even so, this would have been tolerable if it had been a performance by the (fictional) Clapham Park and Upper Tulse Hill Choral Society, at the Community Flat, with a raffle at the end. But it wasn't, it was English National Opera, at the Coliseum, with an Upper Circle ticket that cost forty and half pounds in sterling of my money.

And we had to endure 'the production'. I suppose I could have enjoyed the production if I had met up some hours beforehand with some female friends and an unspecified number of bottles of wine, and gone along in the 'so bad it's good' spirit of adventure. But solo and sober, it was utterly cringe-making. I mean, so bad it's just bad.

I overheard a conversation beforehand between two people. The first pointed out that there is no story, the second corrected her in that the 'story' is Christian doctrine, and then went on to accept the point in its broad accuracy.

I think we all agree that most of Handel's oratorios should be staged - Jephtha, Salome, Samson and so on were only presented as oratorios in order to circumvent the church-influenced ban on stage performances during Lent.

Messiah is singular, and not really because of its unique place in the affections of the nation, but because it has no story. No characters - the only character that matters is the title role, who does not appear once in the work, which is based upon Old Testaments prophets and Psalms, and the New Testament Epistles and Revelation, not the Gospels, a not insignificant point theologically or doctrinally.

So, instead we were given a succession of moving tableaux. The act opened with several rooms alongside each other, including the waiting area for a housing or benefit office, a hotel bedroom, a Japanese-style chain restaurant, an office where two people worked away on PCs, and a utility room where someone ironed.

I started off by thinking it was mainly banal and pointless, but by the close of the act I considered it a mostly irritating celebration of ADHD. There was a very annoying child who spent large portions of the act running around stage, jumping onto furniture, playing with the abandoned PCs, leaping into the bed, just after the mother had given birth.

In essence, he was one of those dreadful children you shudder at when they hove into view in public spaces, you curse their parents for their lack of supervision and discipline, and you know the child seeks only attention and calm, but in vain.

Oh, the mother giving birth. She didn't, like, give birth or anything on stage, but there was this 'baby' that appeared in a hospital style glass cot next to her bed in the hotel room, then, with the baby still in the cot, she got up and did a dance, like a proper ballerina, like most women do, pirouettes and the like, even before being given the once-over by the Community Midwife.

That wasn't the worst of the dancing, even though it cruelly distracted from Sophie Bevan's exquisite Rejoice Greatly. There was actually worse in the He Shall Feed His Flock, this couple doing pointless modern ballet shapes on the railway station waiting room chairs at the back of stage.

And at some point - the bit that starts with the off-key boy soprano (where's a counter-tenor when you really need him!) screeching There Were Shepherds Abiding in the Field where they did a pretend Primary School Nativity Play. I thought we were supposed to laugh at that point but no one else did, so I just buried my face in my hands out of sheer embarrassment.

It wasn't even like a proper Nursery School Nativity Play where one shepherd decides he is in fact a pirate and adjusts his head-dress accordingly, or where the shepherds and angels end up in a gang fight.

Just to make things even worse, some bat in a fur coat in front of me decided to conduct along to 'For Unto Us a Child is Born'. I only wish she had been in time with the music being played.

And and then there was the mime. There is never any justification for mimes anywhere, and especially not on the stage of a leading opera house. Even if one has to tolerate mimes, one should never had to endure a mime that minces along pushing their hands against an imaginary wall/window. No, please, make it stop, make it go away!

And to crown it all, there were no surtitles. I demand surtitles. What an arrogance to assume that everyone knows the words of Messiah. Actually, we don't. I do sort of, but it is my leading contender for misheard lyrics, and it wasn't as if the Community Chorus, in particular, were enunciating clearly. In any case, if the objective was to attract in the newbies, then, surely, surtitles is the least they could have offered.

I've spent a lot longer writing this blog post than I did attending the performance, and I've enjoyed the writing more. If you've got tickets, you might as well go and see how long you can endure it, but, much as I want to support ENO, I can't in all conscience advise you to buy some: even at £10 it's a bit steep.

This from the home of modern Handel operas was most disappointing.

Tamerlano in Los Angeles

I have held back from compiling a post of the reports from this, four performances into a run of five. I am a little disappointed that California, supposedly the tech capital of the world, seems almost bereft of independent voices.

I also find the reviews somewhat problematic in their naivety. A lot of complaints about the production, but it is difficult to judge whether these are really justified, or whether they are a product of conservative audiences wanting ultra-traditionalist spectacles (or the reviewers projecting this assumption onto their readers).

I also find it wearisome to toil through endless "Shucks how weird" references to the counter-tenor voice or to the presence in the pit of instruments such as theorbos that don't have a place in a modern symphony orchestra, or the insinuation that the only Handel operas that exist are those that happen to have been performed in recent years at the New York Metropolitan opera house.

Also, most of the reviews, even those written exclusively for the internet, insist on long-winded recaps o the plot, which was never meant to be straightforward. It's a lot of padding to scroll through, and adds nothing to the writing, because those people who aren't familiar with the plot can look it up in Wikipedia

And last of all, I am disappointed (not the reviewers' fault!) at the frequent mention of people leaving before the final act. I accept that there are always valid reasons to leave early - in town from out of town for other business, might as well catch something if not everything before the last train; not feeling at all well; and really not liking it one bit to the point of irritation. But in an opera where most of the real gems of highlights come in the final act, it seems perverse to miss that!

I do realise I am reading from a position of luxury, having bought tickets for and failed to attend more Handel operas this year alone than have probably been performed in the entire United States ever.

In summary, I don't see any reviews that are providing me with a Handelian insight I desire.

That having been said, here goes with a summary of the reviews and reports!

Opera review: 'Tamerlano' at L.A. Opera

Domingo's voice may be too robust, lush and big to be ideal for works by baroque composers such as Handel. But the famed tenor was able to invest the part with great sympathy and appeal.

Domingo proved less agile and ornate in embellishment than did his colleagues, and his voice began to lose some sheen over the course of the 3 1/2-hour evening.

But no one came close to the dramatic power he invested in his role, and, despite Handel’s minor-key reconciliation chorus, his death scene almost justified the director’s hopeless vision.

A tame ‘Tamerlano’ at L.A. Opera

Domingo, dressed in colorful Turkish robes (did he insist?) as the imprisoned Bajazet, said to be the first major tenor role in opera, was not entirely in his element. The Baroque style is not really his forte, and he dispatched the quick running figures, the ornamental filigree and trills of the part with something less than aplomb. Still, he found plenty of lyrical passages with which to float and exude impressively and he was a dramatic force in the recitatives. Good dying scene, too.

Tamerlano, Music Center, Los Angeles

Domingo’s doomed sultan Bajazet delivers a death scene (given here in full) drenched in pathos and magnanimity of spirit, his voice a bit slow to warm at the start, his timbre sounding a mite baritonal, his communicative powers still unmatched. Some things in opera may be eternal.

Opera Heaven

Is tenor Placido Domingo really 68 years old?  In the role of the captive sultan Bajazet, Domingo sang like a champ. True, he no longer has the vocal control of his youth but there's still plenty of bloom and lyrical power left.  His tender act three duet with the gorgeous soprano Sarah Coburn, playing the part of Bajazet's daughter Asteria, was one of the evening's several highlights.

Domingo’s Towering “Tamerlano” Bajazet: Los Angeles Opera – November 22, 2009

with pictures

tickets were virtually impossible to find and surely will be a cherished memory for anyone who has seen this great 21st century performance by Domingo in a role in which he makes profound impressions, both vocally and histrionically.

Tamerlano

The great Placido Domingo plays Bajazet in this limited-run production, which closes December 1. He was in fine voice during the opening night performance, although he seemed to grow tired and jumped his musical cue at the opening of Act 3. Still, he splendidly portrayed the proud but defeated sultan

Domingo brilla en ‘Tamerlano’

Domingo encarna el espíritu del sultán derrotado hasta su dramático final en el tercer acto, aunque su voz no escondía el cansancio, pasadas las tres horas de función, la noche del sábado.

Opera review “Tamerlano”

Plácido Domingo as Bajazet is of course the main reason for attending this opera. His voice has depth, power, range, and as mentioned he has a great death scene: He’s the true tragic hero of the evening!

A Tamerlano for the Tenorissimo

In his 126th operatic role, Plácido Domingo seems destined to be, if not the world’s most adored tenor, certainly its most accomplished. He has sung in only one other Baroque opera in a long career, but Bajazet is a role uniquely appropriate for him. Domingo’s recent outing as a dramatic baritone in the title role of Simon Boccanegra should by all rights have left his 68-year-old vocal chords hardened and unready for Baroque coloratura. Understandably lacking some of the vocal dexterity of his colleagues, Domingo was, however, able to summon a plangent, brightened version of his tenor voice with enough agility to negotiate the demands of a role that emphasizes dramatic elements over pyrotechnics. Even as his energies dipped toward the end of the victory lap that the role of Bajazet represents for him, Domingo was up to the challenge, investing his performance with a young man’s intensity and commitment.

Star Vehicle

He not going down in any history book as a remarkable singer of Handel, but it is true that his performances continue to be of remarkable quality. His ability to command the stage with his singing and acting are largely unparalleled and its still something to watch younger singers, still in their vocal prime struggle to hold a candle to his presence.

The Sacrifice (on Handel's opera Tamerlano)

Placido Domingo plays the Baroque hero almost as if he were on a nineteenth stage, often dominating the action with his full and rich tenor voice. Since he is dramatically the most forceful figure, however, perhaps this is not as ineffective as it may first have seemed. In a sense, dressed, unlike most of the other modern-suited figures, in a glorious Turkish robe, he is the perfect foil for countertenor Bejun Mehta's high-pitched fascist rage. 

LA Tamerlano, a not unbiased review

Domingo and Dudamel

I’ve met them both briefly in person in the past and what they each exude is joyfulness, kindness and the sweetness of pure souls.

Domingo takes over the stage in “Tamerlano” .–  handsome as ever, his voice deeper and more golden. His on-going energy for a work schedule that would bring most of us to our knees is awe inspiring.

Plácido Domingo greets his fans in a post-performance marathon

Plácido Domingo has seen all kinds of fan adoration in his 40-plus years in the opera business. But he apparently had not seen anything quite like the crowd waiting to greet him late Wednesday night in downtown Los Angeles.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed the 68-year-old Spanish tenor as he emerged from a stage door and took a glance at the queue that had formed.

Domingo began autographing at 11:40 p.m. and did not finish until about 1:30 a.m.

When the last autograph had been signed, Domingo -- still looking energetic -- posed for a few photographs with fans. A Diet Coke provided to him earlier in the evening remained unopen on a table. He shook hands and said good night to L.A. Opera staff before disappearing backstage.

Mark Padmore and the English Concert do Purcell and Handel

Thursday night found me at the Wigmore Hall for an evening of Baroque indulgence. Mark Padmore is a tenor I rate very highly but often forget to include in my pantheon of tenors, because I hear him more on the concert stage than in the Opera House.

I have decided mixed feelings about Purcell. I kind of like his music but I can never quite define why I don't feel passionate about it. I was pondering this during the first half of the concert, dedicated entirely to Purcell, when I asked myself - what's not to like? Pleasant tunes and equally pleasant instrumentation, with the song words of elegance and beauty.

And I got my answer in the start of the second half. A passage from George Frideric Handel's Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat* Brethren - well, you only need to read the title: Where are these brethren - remorse, confusion, horror, fear, full of drama and despair.

Handel was writing as much as half a century after the death of Purcell and his most-performed works, and certainly the excerpts this evening, were the creations of his maturity, a luxury never afforded to Purcell, who died at 35. Indeed, the programme notes begin with this passage:

An anecdote tells that during a performance of Handel's last original oratorio Jephtha (1752), William Savage turned to the old (and now partly blind) composer, and remarked that a passage had reminded him of old Mr. Purcell. Apparently, Handel retorted that "If Purcell had lived he would have composed better music than this"

perhaps pre-empting the speculations as to what Mozart would have composed if he had lived long enough (to at least 58) to have heard Beethoven's 9th.

I suppose listening to an aria such as Let Me Wander Not Unseen from L'Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato one can get an insight into why some people find the da capo aria tedious; a great 'A' and a good 'B' is then followed by an ornamentation of 'A', which works better in some circumstances than others. I thought this was probably the weakest of the Handel pieces, whereas I felt Descend, Kind Pity from Theodora worked so much better.

The final aria Waft Her Angels from Jephtha transformed the evening from pleasantly enjoyable to something magic. I have a CD of Mark Padmore singing this, and it is one of several tracks I put on repeat.

I know I have said that the beauty of Handel is that by sticking to a tried and trusted formula, one can enjoy his works without anxiety about the music being unfamiliar (with the best will in the world, one would need a great deal of spare time and a lack of interest in other composers in order to become entirely familiar as a listener to all his operas and oratorios).

However, as I know really, being familiar with the music and the text enhances one's understanding and thus appreciation of the piece.

I think also it helps that Mark knows this role inside out having performed it in concert and in staged performances. As the concert was drawing to a close, he seemed to relax and get right inside the character/aria, in a way that was truly moving.

Unfortunately, that was also the moment where I found myself having to stifle a cough. The more I tried to stifle it, the more it began to choke me up, and I was beginning to feel that I might actually deprive my brain of oxygen**.

My feeling about him relaxing and enjoying himself were confirmed by his sole encore, Tune Your Harps from Esther.

I thought the lowlight of the evening was the arrangement of Purcell tunes into a 'Purcell Symphony' which interrupted the Handel part of the evening.

I thought the arrangement, by the English Concert's principal trumpeter Mark Bennett was clever and worked on its own terms - a medley of tunes from King Arthur and Fairy Queen.

But it only served to show the relative paucity of Purcell's orchestration. One of the tunes - I got confused as to which - struck me as extremely familiar from some or other collection of incidental music, but as with the Rondeau from Abdelazar (that tune, as used by Benjamin Britten), familiarity doesn't disguise the plodding essence of the tune.

I know I should write in detail about the English Concert, and certainly they were worthy of praise - the stand out was the gorgeousness of the oboes in Tune Your Harp. But ultimately, I chose the concert for the singer, and Mark Padmore did not disappoint.

I love his voice, not least his impressive range. Soaring high with confidence and lyricism robustly and tackling the dramatic end of the range. I suppose if I have reservations it is that he can be a bit uneven - for all the evenings I have spent with him that have delighted me, there have been several where I have thought him a little ordinary.

He is quietly confident on stage, and introduced several of the numbers in a way that seemed both natural and polished. A consummate professional he nevertheless lacks a certain je ne sais quoi, a showmanship that reaches out beyond the proverbial spotlights.

However, his voice is sweet and true, his technique excellent, and his instincts for Handel so perfectly honed it would be churlish to proclaim the evening other than a great success.

Incidentally, for those of you who have seen him this year with shaven head, you will be relieved to know his hair has grown back. I assume it was shaven for the role of Samson

I don't often go to Wigmore Hall. Partly because I kind of forget it exists and then find I am too late to book tickets. Also, it seems that singers that interest me present programmes that don't (for example Iestyn Davies a week or two ago) or an interesting programme on an inconvenient night (Carolyn Sampson earlier this week).

I think I find it a little bit intimidating. I have a sense rightly or wrongly that a large number of people are Wigmore Hall 'regulars'. Indeed, on a previous outing I overheard someone saying that, as a sub-editor she works nights, and designs her shifts round the Wigmore Hall programme.

I can't really understand that, for me it is just one of several - many - venues in London, and I pick and choose what performances I attend. I don't feel a particular loyalty to any venue.

But of course, this leaves me perceiving, probably incorrectly, a sense of cliquishness which unsettles me.

So, it was a delightful surprise on Thursday to find some people I already know from around town, but who introduced me to several more, which rather belies my fear of cliquishness. So that was a bonus for the evening!

My "Handel Year" ends on Tuesday with ENO's staged Messiah (he's a very naughty boy), which I suspect will be 'interesting'. I seem to have cancelled more Handel performances than I have attended, which is a matter of regret, but sometimes stuff happens.

I suppose the year will be capped by the Royal Opera House's belated token offering in March of next year, which I might go and see if I've nothing better to do at the time - but who goes to ROH for Handel, really! (insert smiley of your choice here!).

* don't try and persuade me I was the only person who had this thought!

** I knew instinctively that it was neither a psychological nor phlegmy cough, that I was actually choking on something. Various finger nails had been splitting throughout the day and my fingers invariably end up in my mouth**. When the aria finished and the audience indulged in sustained and enthusiastic applause I coughed and coughed, eventually producing a strand of my own hair that had become lodged in my throat - it's not even currently long enough to suck, as I tend to do if I can

Report from Berlin

For those of you don't always read comments, Nonie has posted a report on her trip to Berlin to Simon Boccanegra.

I took my teenage daughter to the Staatsoper last Tuesday night, having explained the rather complicated plot and reminded her that Plácido would not be the tenor I was met with a bored blank expression.

You can imagine this was just a teensy weensy bit irritating given the cost of transport & accommodation from Cyprus to Germany &tickets ...

At the end of the Prologue she leaned over and whispered "Bastard!" , who is darling ? "that oriental-looking guy who just shafted Simon out of his baby daughters life. Bastard!"

Likewise the unfortunately over-ambitious Paulo, his parents marital status being questioned.

The father-daughter recognition climax had tears streaming down her face, and in the last act she could barely contain herself, actually she didn't.

Which was pretty much the moment I absolutely understood the term "total theater" as used by His Maj in reference to Opera.
Watching my teenage daughter jumping to her feet yelling her head off during the applause ( nearly 30 mins according to the numbness in our hands and arms),it occurred to me that while we have every right to demand top notch performances from people who call themselves 'professional' and take our money for their performances it's easy to get side-tracked by musical- dramatic intellectual analyses .

The bottom line is not wether the tenor was inconsistent ( yes he was a little), or the costumes boring ( conservative to put it mildly) ,or the projected calm/stormy sea imagery works ( it doesn't it looks ridiculous since instead of being at Plácidos feet the images are level with his nose with the crashing waves sending spray well above his head!)etc etc.

Really what counts is wether or not the audience connects with the characters and their experiences through the music... for us it was a resounding 'YES'!

The cast were amazing, they were perfect.

I believe Daniel Barenboim plays a large part in that in the sense that he is the only conductor I know who connects so completely with the music he becomes a bridge between composer/orchestra/singers/sound, he literally completes the circle.

There was wild rapturous applause for all the principals , especially Anja ~Harteros who was Maria/Amelia and Placido, many people were calling out their names.

However it was no coincidence that the name the audience was calling out loudest and for the longest time was " Danny " .

When the daughter saw the whole marine thing her whispered response was ;" Oh God it's a Tsunami, should we throw him a life jacket and call out the coast guard ??" she was convinced there was a guy right at the very front who flinched, " maybe he can't swim".

I'd like to say thanks to Nonie for that, and also congratulations on bringing the teenage daughter into the fold!

Bryn Terfel at Royal Festival Hall

This happened on Wednesday night.

I went into the concert somewhat apprehensive.

This was part of a concert tour promoted by Raymond Gubbay, the master of dumbed-down cheesy Classic FM-lite pops concerts. My apprehension came in the light of reports of the appalling Renée Fleming concert at the same venue (approximately 20 minutes on stage) and of the Angela Gheorghiu concert, too, where most of her stage time was shared by a forgettable and not frightfully good tenor.

The tickets were priced far more highly than the usual price of tickets at the RFH (as had Fleming and Gheorghiu) and the running order was not available on the Southbank website.

In order to discover the running order, one had to buy a glossy programme for £5, which contained nothing of substance - even the running order was amended by insertion of a piece of paper straight off the office printer.

The notes on the songs were short and dumbed-down, and much of the £5 programme contained glossy adverts for further Raymond Gubbay events, no doubt which would also charge £5 for a programme full of glossy ads for...(you get my drift).

Fortunately, the printed/amended running order was substantial and I knew that if Bryn was on form, it would be a worthwhile evening.

My seat was not in a bad position although it was too far from the stage to be worth getting out my camera. I had some rather unfortunate neighbours, although to be honest, I have had worse.

Let's just say I was surrounded by crossover snobs: the sort that announce loudly - while the music's playing - that the Forza del destino overture is from the Stella Artois advert; the sort that make sure everyone knows that they're from Wales (like I care - London is a multicultural multi-ethnic city: I spotted people from Russia and the USA, and people I guessed whose ancestors had come to Britain from Africa via several centuries in the Caribbean). Oh, and next to me I had a Welsh Wagner-hater who hummed along to the crossover songs.

It was a shame that, at the prices charged, there could not have been a good orchestra/chorus/conductor to match the world class singer on the platform. Perhaps I am being harsh with the orchestra - they were made up of students and young professionals, and although one should expect high standards, I guess when they are left floundering by a piss-poor conductor, they have fewer reserves of experience to over-ride the inadequacies.

The orchestra displayed very little contrast in tone or dynamics. The worst part for me was during Iago's Credo from Otello. I have numerous different versions of Otello under several different conductors, and, although I don't tend to acquire them for the Iago, nevertheless, I find the Credo to be an example of Verdi's genius.

Dark, sinister, foreboding, ominous.

But not as played by Sinfonia Cymru under the wet lettuce baton of Gareth Jones. This was, perhaps for the first time ever (and let's hope for the last) Iago showing his cheerful fun side, a light tra-la-la full of promises of rose petals and fairy cakes.

Most of the other pieces were little better in respect of nuance and interpretation. A lack of continuity in the Donizettian runs  in the L'Elisir d'amore aria; and a lack of grandeur in the Der Freischütz.

They lacked depth, a result of the orchestra being pared down to minimal levels consistent with a period chamber ensemble (for mainly 19th early 20th century Romantic pieces!). I wouldn't have expected them to be so loud, so consistently loud, varying between mezzo-forte and forte, with the occasional venture into fortissimo for dramatic effect.

I thought it was maybe my ears, or some unfortunate acoustic effect of where I was sitting, because for quite substantial parts of the programme, Bryn's voice was drowned out. But when I could perfectly hear his perfectly placed unaccompanied pianissimi, I knew that the problem was the orchestra.

The London Welsh Chorale were similarly mediocre, to put it generously. Mainly, the sopranos screeched in their efforts to reach their (not very) high notes - I would dread to hear an Hallelujah chorus from them.

The male voices were more convincing, but consistently failed to close their consonants together, and other basic flaws which screamed 'amateur*' in large print. I may once have posed the rhetorical question - is it possible to listen to the Te Deum from Tosca without getting goose pimples? On Wednesday I found my answer to be a resounding 'yes'.

Their star turn was the Welsh Male Voice Choir version of Faust's Soldiers Chorus (which because of my liking for Welsh Male Voice Choirs, is more familiar to me than the French version), and really, they didn't do it, certainly not in comparison to the versions I have on CD.

So, what of the main man? He was excellent, there is no disputing that.  The tour is to promote his  Bad Boys CD - a concept album of evil characters from opera and musical theatre. And, actually, I would say, a great concept, and a generally well-programmed evening.

He is a supremely talented man, a great voice, the ability to convey character through voice alone, an instinctive stage presence which makes him a great showman, a natural rapport with audience. He sings in tune (which is no mean achievement) and and his voice is well-supported with excellent breath control.

He brought each and every aria to life, and though he was obviously battling with the slopping timekeeping of his conductor (his choice, his problem...) he was just excellent.

He introduced each number with a little explanation or story, which I think tends to go down well with audiences in general. Unfortunately, for this audience member, it seemed just a bit too measured, too rehearsed, and I suppose that sums up my overall misgiving about the concert.

Despite all the justified praise I have heaped in the previous paragraph, he nevertheless left me with a feeling that it was all a bit over-rehearsed, measured, and, ultimately, slightly too mechanistic to convince me totally of the spontaneity and passion.

There wasn't a stand-out aria for me, which also is a bit worrying in retrospect. I was pleasantly surprised by his When the night wind howls from Ruddigore, until I remembered it is in fact my favourite G&S aria, indeed, the only aria I actually like, from the only G&S operetta I actually like. And I could have done without the encore from Les Mis, which managed in two or three short minutes to express every cliché in the schmaltzy Musical Theatre paint-by-numbers guide (and the crossover snob alongside me humming along on one note!)

So overall, an enjoyable night, but one that would count as good, perhaps verging on the very good, because of Bryn's talent and professionalism, but not one for the ages, as they say, and unlikely to feature as one of my highlights of 2009, or indeed the decade! I was grateful that Bryn delivered a full concert programme, and pleased that I had chosen to attend this, rather than the Fleming/Gheorghiu fiascos.

He did a signing session afterwards, and I was vaguely thinking of joining the tail-end of the queue, but preferred in the end to share a drink with a friend (recently returned from gallivanting to Berlin's Simon Boccanegra - who declared that Bryn is no longer her favourite baritone, and me, being the halfwit that I am, asked "Oh! Who is?"). There were not many of us left in the bar area when he walked through with his entourage, presumably heading for the backstage area, but we didn't rush him or throw ourselves at him or anything like that!

* I realise that almost all the choirs that appear on concert platforms are technically amateur, but they perform in a manner which appears, to me at least, to be professional

All the votes!

I have been asked for further details of the voting on favourite singers, so I have uploaded the summarised totals.

Each of these files is basically the same, but you have a choice of formats. They contain two lists of the the total votes cast for each singer.

One of these is sorted in descending order from the King of Opera down to those who received one vote each; the other is sorted alphabetically by surname (family name) for ease of search.

Download Summarised - Excel 2007

Download Summarised - Excel 97-2003 compatible mode

Download Summarised - pdf. document

(You have no idea how much I love being an 'anorak' with data!)

The World's Favourite Opera singers, Official!

Well, not 'official', obviously, seeing as though this was advertised only on Opera-L, this blog, one small, elite private news group, and my Twitter and Facebook accounts.

The raw statistics: 70 people voted for 98 singers, of whom 49 got 1 vote, and 13 got 2 votes.

Many people expressed frustration that I limited it to 5, often adding a few also-rans. Many more commented that it changed from day to day. Several people tried to cast multiple votes for one of two particular singers.

Three bulletin boards/groups devoted to specific singers pimped their favourites, which I did not rule out. I don't believe it had a significant effect on the overall results, although it probably led to these singers being placed slightly higher (but those that responded did so in the full spirit with valid votes for 4 other singers, too).

On the blog, 68 singers were voted for; 31 once and 14 twice, leaving a clear Top 23. On Opera-L 66 singers received votes, 30 once and 9 twice, leaving a clear Top 19.

Between the two sources, there were some interesting anomalies - Opera-L placed Natalie Dessay, Piotr Beczala, Joseph Calleja and Susan Graham in the top ten; on the blog the first 3 were joint 24th, and Susan, nowhere. Ruggero Raimondi and Sarah Connolly similarly over-performed on the blog compared to Opera-L.

The overall winner was the joint winner on blog, and second on Opera-L. Mr. Second-Place was joint top and 3rd; the 3rd place singer won Opera-L and came 4th on the blog. 4th was 3rd (b) and 9th (O-L); and 5th was 9th and 4th. So I feel there is reasonable consistency between the results.

No one voted wholly for the top 5, but Alexandra W and ZSQ900 (both from Opera-L) got the top 3. Mary Victor, Jane Clay, Laura and Intermezzo got 3 of the top 5. Jan managed to get all their nominated singers into the Top 19, as did Irina, who only voted for 4. Only Jane Ennis declined to vote for anyone who made the final Top 19, but did cast a vote for someone who was joint 20th.

Of the top 23, 7 are tenors (including Domingo), 3 baritones, 5 sopranos, 5 mezzos (including Meier), 2 bass-baritones (including Raimondi), and 1 bass. Only two counter-tenors got one vote each (one from me - am I a secret seagull fancier!).

Five of the top 23 are British, but one born Russian and one born Canadian. 4 are German and 4 from the USA, both Russians now hold alternative citizenship. 15 are from Europe (from Wales to Siberia) and 8 from the Americas (from Argentina to Canada). Two South African singers feature lower down the list, but otherwise I can't identify any as being from Africa/Asia/Down-Under.

So, for the results!

The top ten female singers, with votes cast, are (with Blog/Opera-L breakdown in brackets)

Sondra Radvanovsky 11 (6,5)

Renée Fleming  10 (5,5)

Joyce DiDonato 9 (6,3)

Natalie Dessay 8 (2,6)

Anna Netrebko 7 (3,4)

Elina Garanca  6 (4,2)

Waltraud Meier 6 (5,1)

Sarah Connolly 5 (5,0)

Susan Graham 5 (0,5)

Anja Harteros 5 (4,1)

The ten top men are:

Plácido Domingo 23 (14, 9)

Jonas Kaufmann 21 (14, 7)

Dmitri Hvorostovsky 19 (9, 10)

Juan Diego Florez 17  (12, 5)

Rene Pape 13 (6,7)

Simon Keenlyside 12 (7, 5)

Marcelo Alvarez 11 (8,3)

Ruggero Raimondi 9 (7,2)

Piotr Beczala 7 (2, 5)

Jospeh Calleja 7 (2, 5)

which leaves the Top 23 thus:

1. Plácido Domingo

2. Jonas Kaufmann

3. Dmitri Hvorostovsky

4. Juan Diego Flórez

5. Rene Pape (I ought to have a picture of Rene but, despite chasing him down Las Ramblas, I don't)

6. Simon Keenlyside

7= Marcelo Alvarez

7= Sondra Radvanovsky

9. Renée Fleming

10=Joyce DiDonato

10=Ruggero Raimondi

12. Natalie Dessay

13=Piotr Beczala

13=Joseph Calleja

13=Anna Netrebko

16=Gerald Finley

16=Elina Garanca

16=Waltraud Meier

16=Rolando Villazón

20=Sarah Connolly

20=Susan Graham

20=Anja Harteros

20=Bryn Terfel

Finally, several people wrote that they weren't voting for Rolando Villazón even though they adore him - like me they were using the 'off sick' reason (because it made it easier to bring it down to 5!).

A few felt Thomas Quasthoff ought to at least get a honourable mention, although he rarely sings in opera, because of his considerable physical disability, but vocally he is amongst the current greats.

And what does this exercise prove? Not a lot, actually! But by limiting the numbers voted for to 5, I am sure I have created a situation where people feel that their 6th, 7th and 8th is unjustly overlooked. By arbitrarily cutting off at the top 20 I have omitted, for example Alagna and Gheorghiu, amongst other 'superstars'.

Pettily, I am actually peeved that Jonas Kaufmann is as popular on this blog as Plácido Domingo. And those who know me will be giggling that Sondra Radvanovsky (who I dislike muchly as a singer - although she seems a very nice person) came top of the women. The ones I voted for came 1st, 2nd, 16th, joint 37th and joint 49th!

Forthcoming documentary

Imagine line-up revealed

The BBC has unveiled the artists that will be explored in the forthcoming series of flagship culture programme Imagine.

The new season will start with a show on sculptor Anish Kapoor on November 17 at 10.35pm...

...Later episodes are set to cover Shirley Bassey, Placido Domingo, Joan Baez and Scrabble.

When I know a transmission date I shall post it here. I am sure that, for people beyond the reach of BBC broadcasts, the programme will be available from the internet in one way or another within days! ;-)

Poppy hypocrisy

It's that time of year when the wearing of a poppy becomes de rigeur on TV, where any public figure or, indeed private individual not wearing one is subject to questioning, often of an insulting or bullying nature, and where the news media are full of stories of perceived or actual slights to the Poppy.

The British Legion was founded in 1921, following the First World War. That war was a watershed in modern warfare. From a British perspective, it was the first in modern times where so many men were conscripted (without choice). It was also notable for the large numbers killed - many leaving widows and dependent children -  and seriously injured, many too seriously to earn a decent living, hence the need for a charity to support the destitute and needy. The Poppy became the symbol of their annual appeal, remembering the poppies that grew in the fields on the Western Front.

The First World War gave rise to a thought - a hope - that it mustn't happen again, it was 'the war to end all wars'. But as we know, the Armistice was only an Armistice, and hostilities resumed within 21 years - barely a generation later. And again, ordinary men (and women) were called up to serve in the army, having little choice unless they were in a reserved occupation (or physically unfit).

Conscription - or National Service - carried on after the Second World War until it was abolished in 1960, and the British Army/Navy /Air Force became volunteer forces. Highly trained, with a professional officer corps and highly skilled tradesmen and women. No one is conscripted into the British Forces, all are there by choice.

The reasons for the two world wars are complex, but I think we all know the 'headline' reasons. The First World War was started by disastrous macho posturing by the men in charge; in the Second World War it was to counter the disastrous effects of the Nazis, who had risen partly (largely?) as a result of the macho posturing in the Treaty of Versailles.

The Poppy Appeal, and the Remembrance Festival, had been set up to remember those who had died so pointlessly in World War I, and was extended to include the dead of World War II - it is often said that they gave their lives so we could be free.

One characteristic that appals me most whenever I read about World War I is the jingoistic fervour whipped up by the British population, egged on in no small way by the media, labelling anyone who didn't wish to fight as a coward or traitor. The reaction to that included poems by writers such as Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon, which I think are pretty much compulsory reading at school.

Fast forward to the 21st century, and we have our volunteer forces fighting wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Regardless of the fine point of International Law, it is at best doubtful whether they have any moral right to be there.

In Afghanistan, for example,  the war aims are unclear - and seem to alter whenever the wind changes. The civilian deaths and casualties are covered up - how often do you read about them in the broadsheet let alone the tabloid press. Those who take up arms to defend their country - as every good Englishman should do, apparently - against a foreign invader are labelled as 'insurgents', guerrilas or Taliban.

Meanwhile, every year the British Legion, nowadays with a Royal prefix, holds a Festival of Remembrance at the Albert Hall, which is televised. I watch it most years, for reasons that need not detain us now, and each year I am appalled by the lies and propaganda that are peddled. Small children, too young to read Owen and Sassoon, are fed lines about the soldiers (etc) fighting in Iraq/Afghanistan 'to protect our freedoms' or 'so that we can be free'.It is so wrong, wrong that these lies are being put out on national TV, and wrong that children are being brainwashed with inaccurate information.

We have come a long away from the legacy of the First World War, where people vowed never again to be fooled by jingoistic propaganda started by the Press and spread by their unthinking readers.

Most of us have little difficulty in understanding how the Second World War was about fighting for our freedom (even if we may debate the detailed causes and sequence of events).

I simply see no justification for the hysteria being whipped up now, the snide hints that anyone not wearing a poppy is somehow not 'patriotic', or the crazy situation where a shop that enforces its general policy of no charity badges becomes national news. We are forced to accept that the Poppy Appeal is different from any other charity.

And yet, what is it mainly about?

Providing support, probably much needed support - to former volunteer soldiers (etc). If people wish to donate, and display the emblem of giving, that's great. But I can think of no other charity - or their supporters - who are so strident and so insisting that every body joins in.

A far more fitting memorial to those slaughtered and maimed in 1914 -1918 would be to vow never to go to war except in self-defence, never to get caught up in jingoistic bullying.

This is why I shall never again donate money to the British Legion nor shall I ever wear a poppy - if I did wear a poppy nowadays, it would be with shame.

Safety Starts Here

For several months, Streatham Hill station has been undergoing building or renovation works. I think it's to do with the sidings/loco sheds but it also affects the passenger parts of the station, such as a temporary exit and entrance.

This sign bugs me. I'm not entirely sure why, but I think it's because it seems inadvertently to imply that 'Safety' is of no concern on the platforms or even the actual rail track.

Autumn Desolation

I had this all to myself last Saturday. It's alongside Sinderland Brook, which separates Sale and Altrincham.

I walked from the A56 main road (near the Pelican) up to Woodheys Park and did not pass a soul. It did cross my mind - if I were to be attacked it might be days before anyone found me.  Meanwhile, of course, the A56 was bumper-to-bumper with traffic going nowhere fast.

Given that I wasn't attacked, but did get mud on my shoes and the bottom of my trousers, who do you think was better off?

Plácido as Simon Boccanegra

Just typical that the weekend that the world's Greatest Tenor takes on a truly* baritone role, I am stuck somewhere with no internet**, so short of googling on my phone in bed, I really had little idea of what was going on in Berlin on Saturday. The disadvantage - this blog didn't contain news and reviews hot off the wires. Advantage - I can collect a wealth of stuff and pick and choose what's worth blogging!

A selection of rehearsal photos, taken from Plácido Domingo gastiert auf Berliner Bühne

El gran sueño de Plácido Domingo

"Pre-match" interview from last Saturday - not actually saying anything new!

And the reviews

Placido Domingo tries out Verdi baritone role - Associated Press

To be sure, the sound of Domingo's voice — even miscast — ringing out at full cry in an opera house is something to be treasured, especially now that he is cheating time with every performance. So it was natural that the first-night audience responded with foot-stomping enthusiasm and curtain calls for him and his fellow performers that lasted 20 minutes.

After 50 years as a tenor, Placido Domingo turns baritone for Verdi - The Times

Suddenly Domingo can hope to compete for key baritone roles and broaden his market appeal. “We look forward to the day when he plays the super-bad Iago, baritone of course, in Verdi’s Otello,” says the Rheinische Post critic Wolfram Goertz. “And if his tenor colleague playing Otello should lose his voice, I am sure that Domingo could jump in and play both roles.”

Clamor por Domingo en Berlín - El Mundo

Domingo parecía un coloso en escena. Le arropaba un manto púrpura de terciopelo y agradecía los clamores con la sonrisa de un debutante. Tiene 68 años, pero la frescura de la voz y la fortaleza escénica desmienten cualquier atisbo de decadencia.

Just as a note on audience appreciation of productions, this reports that the production booing was for the conventionality, predictability and vulgarity.

Berliners Boo Director, Cheer Domingo as Baritone: Review - Bloomberg

he found vocal happiness in Verdi’s somber (sic) opera...has aged without losing his sex appeal...exuded alpha- animal charisma throughout. This is no tectonic shift in voice type or technical miracle. Domingo simply sang as he always does, with crackling presence, musical intelligence, fastidious attention to detail, and bold imagination. The low notes are not always the loudest, but the high notes are effortless, and everything in between is utterly compelling.

Singers weighed down by proto-Renaissance robes, brought to mind “Batman” and “Shrek.” Domingo sang his final death scene in a floor-length gold frock with matching tea-cosy hat, while his daughter stood about in white lace (costumes: Giovanna Buzzi). Perhaps the more conservative and differently fashionable Milanese will love the show

Jubel für Plácido Domingo an Berlins Staatsoper - Zeit

Doch mit seiner Bühnenpräsenz schafft er die richtige Mischung aus Autorität und Zerbrechlichkeit. Nach mehr als einem halben Jahrhundert Karriere dürften wenige Sänger das Publikum so stark beeindrucken.

Brokatkugel und Flatterkleid - Zeit

in which the Stage Director gets torn apart (if there was a German word for 'Met Trash' it would surely be in this article!)

Der reife Debütant ist die einzige lebende Bühnengestalt in einer grotesken Veranstaltung

Plácido Domingo überzeugt auch als Bariton - Welt

Plácido Domingo gibt dieser durchaus zwiespältigen Verdi-Figur Kraft, Würde und Wärme, er ist leidenschaftlich und souverän bei der Sache, mit herbstlich strahlenden, rotgoldenen Tönen

Simon Boccanegra - Guardian

Conveying the near Shakespearean journey of the soul suffered by Verdi's troubled doge was never likely to be a problem. He achieved it beautifully. The surprise was seeing him play a man his own age, knowing he could just as easily play the young hero, Gabriele Adorno (perhaps even better than Berlin's somewhat uneven Fabio Sartori).

Yet his voice still has a lightness which meant that the impact was strangely reversed: top notes which frighten a baritone were golden and resounding, whereas the lower notes, though confidently negotiated, seemed slightly underpowered. By the end of this year, he will know where his voice has landed. With dates booked until into his eighth decade, this adored singer, who won a 20-minute standing ovation, is in a fascinating state of flux

Domingo Excels as Boccanegra- New York Times

Mr. Domingo’s burnished tone was deeply moving when urging peace and love. In sterling form throughout, he brought a deft touch to the final word, “figlia” (daughter), of the recognition duet with Amelia, a problematic moment for baritones.

And thanks to Rossignol for the only blog post I can find!

Plácido Domingo: Simon Boccanegra

If anyone knows of other blogposts, or would like to write their own, for posting here, in any language, please let me know!

And a short YT clip of the Sixth Curtain Call...

* we know that he has taken the baritone part in several duets, and that Oreste is a slightly-adjusted-for-tenor baritone role

** My mother's several neighbours helpfully call their secured wireless networks by easily identifiable names; she wasn't keen on me going from door-to-door asking for passwords!

Plácido Domingo - My Greatest Roles

Plácido Domingo is the most important person alive in opera.

Greatest of the stage tenors still performing, experienced conductor, intendant of not one but two US opera houses these bald facts hardly begin to delineate the man.

Major sponsorship flocks to him, his influence is felt in opera houses worldwide, and his support can be the making of a singers career. And once every ten years he allows television cameras in. This time is probably the last television look at his active career and takes the form of a retrospective of his greatest work, building up a picture of this unique man throughout his extraordinary career.

Plácido Domingo has selected the roles he regards as his greatest, and the particular performances at which he was at his peak, which were all filmed:

Vienna Opera:

• Carmen
• La Gioconda
• Lohengrin

The Royal Opera Covent Garden

• Andrea Chenier
• The Tales of Hoffman
• La Fanciulla del West
• Otello

Film version:

• Tosca, the settings and times of Tosca

I' ve ordered this but it won't actually arrive until January. It is released earlier elsewhere, but there seems little point in getting a DVD with the wrong region (besides, who wants NTSC when you get PAL)

Echo der Stars

A short description of his achievements (in German) and then,Domingo sings Amor,vida de mi vida and gets a lifetime achievement award.

 

 

Or, if you just want to cut to the chase, here is Amor, vida di mi vida

(He is so seriously cute)

Echo Klassik

Premio "Echo Klassik" para Plácido Domingo

Roter Teppich für die Klassik: Echo-Preise in der Semperoper verliehen

Der eigentliche Star des Abends war Plácido Domingo. Der in Spanien geborene Tenor wurde für sein Lebenswerk geehrt. Das Publikum stand geschlossen auf, als die Opernlegende die Bühne betrat - zum ersten Mal die der Semperoper, wie der 68-Jährige später bekannte. Und er will wiederkommen. Nachher im Interview streute er auch ein paar Lebensweisheiten in die Runde: „Die Jugend ist das einzige Missverständnis im Leben, das mit zunehmenden Alter verschwindet.“

Placido Domingo honored for life's work with German Echo award

With Anne-Sophie Mutter

Echo Klassik Preise: Plácido Domingos Lebenswerk geehrt

(I drafted this post last week and was then taken away from the internet without time to publish it)