Back from the (almost) dead

F.R.E.D went through some tough times.    Of course, the entire country went through (is going through?) tough times, so this is not news.     But we weathered the storm and we're still here.    (I'm Still Here was already taken.)


So...first highly opinionated post of the year.   2010 saw the loss of many great classical artists and all were duly eulogized (some more than others.)    Which brings me to:
Joan Sutherland died.    Perhaps the greatest technique of any singer in her lifetime (I'd go back father, but then we'd have to explain and get sidetracked.)     Very few people would disagree.    (And they would be idiots, if they did.)     Her recordings are marvels of control, color, phrasing, security, and dependability.     What they rarely had were multifaceted characters, true excitement, insight, or genuine surprise.    You know what you get and you love it or you don't.    Good for her.

Charles Mackerras also died.    One of the greatest conductors of his lifetime.     He tried many different ideas, championed great composers, championed great singers, believed in studying original manuscripts to garner ideas, played the Classical composers with smaller numbers, fleeter tempos, appoggiaturas in the historically correct places with Mozart as well as Donizetti and the other Italian Romantics, fostered music sung in native language of the people when possible, built up performing groups like The Welsh National Opera, etc, etc, etc.   Classical music is different because he lived.     If for no other reason than because of him,  Janacek has been added to the repertoire of most opera houses--right where he belongs--and seems to be popular, even loved (what's not to love?)

My gripe?    Sutherland had pages and pages of meaningless drivel in her obituary in The New York Times.     Mackerras had one page.    Read it again.    The New York Times, the internationally known paper for one of the great centers for classical music, gave Charles Mackerras one page.    One.    Granted he was British, yet he performed often in America and recorded many American singers--including Beverly Sills.     If fact, he conducted thousands of performances around the world.    Sutherland is also NOT from America.     And she sang thousands of performances around the world.    He changed music as we hear it, even WHAT we hear.   She made recordings.     I'm just saying.  
Alas, conductors will never be as popular (Bernstein and Toscanini the exceptions, perhaps) as singers.   This is the TRUE story of classical music.    The vast majority of listeners have no idea how important a conductor is.     They only know singers.     Or violinists (for a short time, anyway.)    Or pianists (also mostly fleeting love affairs.)      Often by how young they are and what they wear.    Lang Lang?     An over-emotive (at least, in physical action), musical mediocrity if ever there was one, but he has (the same) following so he gets gigs.    But for how long?

Do I think singers should not be revered?   Of course not!    I am a singer myself, and I treasure the performances I have seen at the Met (and other places) by singing actors of every stripe, in every dramatic musical form.    Yes, even Broadway singers can be riveting and well-trained.     With a slightly different projection style, Christine Ebersole could sing opera.    A Light In The Piazza, with Victoria Clark and Kelli O'Hara practically WAS opera.   Audra McDonald sang "Summertime" and "My Man's Gone Now" better than most of the people I have heard sing them.   And Bernadette Peters, (nothing even remotely like an opera singer) in A Little Night Music was one of the unmissable performances of my lifetime for anyone who loves good singing actors.    If you didn't go, why didn't you?     Will many people argue the merits of, say, country music over jazz or Broadway or opera?   Yes.     Will (fewer, alas!) people argue the merits of, say, Renee Fleming over Deborah Voigt?   Yes.     Will they argue the merits of Charles Mackerras over Kurt Masur?   Very few.    By the way: jazz and opera and Broadway over country, but some country singers can actually sing very well.    Renee Fleming...anyone who chooses Voigt?     Who are you kidding?    And, as expected, because I set it up this way, the late lamented Charles Mackerras, a kind man I met for five minutes in person and many hours on record and in the house.     The King is dead.   Long live the King.    Sutherland probably won't need my help.

Oddities

First, some of my old posts are "acting up."   Words (especially in italics) have been roaming around appearing in odd spots that they did not start in.     Mostly, they attach themselves to other words in italics.    And the weirdest part?    They don't do it at the same time.    Once I discovered it, I read through all of them and corrected the ones I saw.    Then another one appeared.    I'm not kidding and I'm not crazy.    WTF?

Second, has anyone noticed that more famous, popular, successful and / or working classical composers have names that begin with  the letter "B"?  [My criteria is they have had or have now recordings of their music or are still performed regularly somewhere in the world.   In fact, I have performed or have recordings of all but three of them.]  Milton Babbitt, J. S. Bach, C.P. E. Bach, (and assorted brothers and sons), Leonardo Balada, Mily Alexeyevich Balakirev, Michael William Balfe, Samuel Barber, Bela Bartok, Arnold Bax, Amy Beach, Jack Beeson, Ludwig van Beethoven, Vincenzo Bellini, Georg Benda, Alban Berg, Luciano Berio, Arthur Benjamin, George Benjamin, Richard Rodney Bennett, Arthur Berger, Erik Bergman, Lennox Berkeley, Michael Berkeley, Hector Berlioz, Leonard Bernstein, Franz Berwald, Franz von Biber, William Billings, Gilles Binchois, Harrison Birtwistle, Georges Bizet, Boris Blacher, Howard Blake, Arthur Bliss, Marc Blitzstein, Ernest Bloch, Karl-Birger Blomdahl, John Blow, Luigi Boccherini, Adrien Boieldieu, Arrigo Boito, William Bolcom, Alexander Borodin, Pierre Boulez, Rutland Boughton, Paul Bowles, William Boyce, Johannes Brahms, Walter Braunfels, Tomas Breton, Havergal Brian, Frank Bridge, Benjamin Britten, Max Bruch, Anton Bruckner, Willy Burkhard, Ferruccio Busoni, George Butterworth, Dietrich Buxtehude, William Byrd...have I forgotten any?   

As an "oh by the way", Walter Braunfels was a  victim of the Holocaust: his work is just being "re-discovered."    More and more recordings are appearing and his music is getting more and more performances.    He wrote beautiful music and he is worth investigating, as are many composers killed or displaced by the Holocaust.     A whole generation was "lost" and we should preserve and perform this music, 1)  because it is worthwhile and 2) it shines as a testament to survival in the face of human evil, even if only the music has survived.     Try to keep it alive by supporting the artists who are performing and recording it.    (Anne-Sophie von Otter is one.)  To start, go on Amazon and type in "Entartete Musik" and a wonderful series of recordings will pop up.    This is good (sometimes great) music...truly.

4th music

Is it just me, or does anyone else dread those 4th of JULY concerts with their poor miking, where Stars and Stripes Forever gets blasted to bits, Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue sounds like it's being sightread and Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture (which has nothing to do with America!) blares out as the fireworks fly above and the cannons roar.    (Real ones, of course.)    Even the New York Philharmonic can sound scrappy.    Don't get me wrong--I love fireworks.    And other than The Stars and Stripes, which I loathe) all the familiar pieces are good works.    But not outside.     Where people are only half listening anyway and the orchestra is only half-playing it in response.   I long for a piece by Howard Hanson or even Leonard Bernstein (who does make a very occasional appearance) or Samuel Barber--American pieces maybe not everyone has heard.    But that is not the point of these "celebrations".    It's about comfort food for the musically illiterate.    "If it was good enough for Grandpa..."    Why not, say, Barber's Violin Concerto and Hanson's Third Symphony and Paul Creston's A Rumor?    Then 1812 Overture if you have to have it.    But no one will ever listen to me.    People want their hot dogs and hamburgers and barbeque and Gershwin (but not Concerto in F) and their 1812.     Why not just tape last year's show and stay at home in the air conditioning?    Or listen to Hanson's Third Symphony?     To my mind, a better way to celebrate.   (I'll probably go to where I can watch the fireworks and NOT listen to the concert.     I hear that awful piccolo solo in my nightmares as it is.)

Ondine

Hans Werner Henze (one of the great composers of the more "modernist" side) wrote a beautiful, dramatic, romantic three act ballet in his youth to Frederick Ashton's choreography for Margot Fonteyn to dance--Ondine.    Henze and Ashton worked closely, going as far as to work the "script" to the very minute each section should take. Henze watched the Sadler's Wells company dance and rehearse many times and studied how music supported their style of dancing. All this intense work paid off: Ondine was a triumph for Henze and Fonteyn and it had been in the repertoire of the soon renamed Royal Ballet since it's premiere in 1958. It has been presented by them (and others) several times since, and now a DVD of a recent Royal Ballet production using the original sets and costumes (and, of course, dance) has appeared on the Opus Arte label.

First, the music is perhaps the most "conventional" he ever set. It is tonal in its approach, if not completely in its construction, and it soars and floats and roars and laughs and memorably invokes the sea like many other great works (Peter Grimes comes to mind.) It is beautiful, sometimes achingly so. It never seems padded or academic and each act moves from beginning to end with a sure hand for such a young composer writing his first (and only) long ballet. (He did write shorter less conventional ones.) No doubt this is Ashton's influence. Still, as music, it is a joy--not a 19th Century pastiche, but a powerful piece of its time which seems as fresh today as it must have then. To try to explain its "sound world", think of it as the offspring of Stravinsky and Prokofiev. Only the most conservative, musically ignorant listener will complain. Even for someone who does not like ballet, the music alone would be worth the price of the DVD. The Orchestra of The Royal Opera House conducted by the old hand Barry Wordsworth plays magnificently and the sound is glorious. It was recorded in DTS Digital Surround but the "mere" stereo has wonderful presence.

The ballet itself has occasionally and inexplicably come into carping, harsh criticism which I feel is unwarranted. What are these people watching...or wanting? It is a memorable showcase for a prima ballerina, and that is it's chief appeal. And what choreography for her! No wonder companies keep presenting it. But it isn't it's only appeal. The dance moves are always interesting, sometimes quite memorable, and always apt. The secondary characters all have fine dances. The divertissement from Act Three is wonderful. Tirrenio, the Lord of the Sea, has important moments and his final fury, accompanied by the corps as creatures from the water, is one of the most powerful moments of the entire work. Two weaknesses in my opinion keep it from being "perfect." The "hero" has no great defining solo, though his parts in the many duets are imaginative. And the "other woman" who causes the tragedy is a little too obviously designed for an older dancer with somewhat limited facilities. Her role is far more mime than dance and the poorer for it. These do not impair enjoyment in the piece, though they are noticeable. Still, I love Ondine. All of it. I think its detractors are fools. Harsh words, but I mean them. The glorious parts do make for a satisfying whole.

About this performance, almost all praise. Miyako Yoshida is a terrific Ondine. The very fact that she is of a different race than the other dancers reinforces the difference between the beautiful, mercurial creation of the sea and the fallible human creatures of the land. She is beyond criticism for all but those who refuse to admit any ballerinas of today can handle the great roles of the past. She conveys every mood while executing the movement impeccably. Yes, I've seen the (very cut) "movie" version with Fonteyn. She was wonderful and one-of-a-kind. She's gone. I believe she would have been overjoyed for Yoshida. Time to stop using the past to tear everybody down. Yoshida creates her own Ondine. Watch and enjoy it.

Palemon, the man fated to fall in love with Ondine, is danced with both emotion and skill by Edward Watson. His time with Yoshida seems a true collaboration. Though his role is a subsidiary one to the prima ballerina, he adds much to the excellence of the production and is never more than enjoyable to watch. Tirrenio is the very strong Ricardo Cervera. His every entrance has been designed for maximum effect. The dancer achieves just that. The performance does have a few small areas where the "parts" do not quite gel. Berta, the villain of the piece, is given a somewhat lackluster performance by Genesia Rosato. She is beautiful (as is very much Yoshida), which helps with close-ups , but she seems to be a trifle rote with some of her work. Perhaps this is why Ashton's movement for this character seems weak. Maybe another dancer would make me feel differently. Rosato is not terrible or even bad, and her occasional lack of emotional involvement isn't enough to ruin anything, but it is sometimes distracting--at least, to me. And the corps de ballet seem under-rehearsed at times, Act One in particular. They are bit too frequently (and literally) out of step with each other to completely ignore and the energy, passion that should come through doesn't always do so. But these are just fleeting moments. Mostly, they do great work. And they have great things to do. (Ashton's ideas for them are some of the most enjoyable surprises of the work.) Overall, the recording is a triumph for The Royal Ballet and its talented soloists and the work itself is a joy.
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Contest - win a prize for your imput

Paul Ponders is starting a contest open to anyone who wants to enter: Thirty Dollars For Thirty Readers. To be entered to win a $30 Amazon gift card , you just have to follow some simple rules. 1) You have to read all the past and new posts from Paul Ponders. 2) You have to comment on each one. That's it. Your comments must be related to each post and be more than "I liked it" or "I didn't like it". Simple, right? One catch: thirty people have to enter before the prize is awarded. So get your friends to be a part of it. Convince music lovers or art lovers that it's worth their while. The posts are about music, mostly, but other arts are covered. They are (sometimes highly) opinionated and meant to provoke questions or discussions--that's why it's so important to get people reading. Anyone who follows a blog knows that half the fun is the reactions to each post. Don't let me down. Help me get my thirty people. Someone will get thirty dollars.   (Naturally, you don't have to comment on this post.)

Carmen again? Yes!

I love Carmen with as much passion as I usually dislike productions of it...or even audio recordings. For such a well-known and (supposedly) well-loved piece, making it work as a whole is too often like a dog chasing its tail: you know what they're after, but they never seem to get it. Why? Many complicated reasons, but first and probably foremost is the history of the title role. Carmen is complicated, mercurial, passionate, lustful, beautiful, willful, taciturn, and (finally) resigned. (She is not, however, a wounded animal...or any kind of animal other than human. Let's bury that stupid idea once and for all.) And she has to sing all these famous pieces that everyone assumes they "know" and expect to be sung a certain way. Getting someone who can be all those things and still sing the damn thing is extremely hard indeed, even without audience prejudice. Everyone knows the right voice for it, the right physique, the right costume. They compare each knew Carmen to the "right" way in their minds. At best, you usually get one or the other: the actor who can't really sing the notes well enough or the singer who has all the notes (or well enough) but can't act it. Carmen was conceived as a work with dialogue in it--strong acting was obviously expected. Even with the recits, the acting challenges do not go away. And it's a HUGE part. And it may be considered the mezzo role supreme, but there is less "mezzo" there than a full-range. High (quite often), low (less often) and everything in-between. Just because someone can "hit" the notes does not mean they should be singing this. The very smart Frederica Von Stade said early and often that she was not meant to sing Carmen. And she was right: she could have sung it beautifully and been completely wrong. (Another wonderful mezzo did not heed the warning and now it's on video forever.) And so many people who have sung it--including that wonderful mezzo--are just "wrong." Too shrill or too wobbly or two vocally forced (they most common pitfall, sad to say) or too polite or too hammy or too "fake" sexy or just too everything but what is required. Young singers should not flock to it, they should run! Unless they are the rare bird that can deliver all of it. And the MET found one. Elina Garanca. She sang it magnificently, beautifully, powerfully, even subtly when required. She has all the notes and at all the dynamics. The coloring of the voice is just right. And she is one of the most believable Carmens I have ever seen (and I've seen my share.) Not a moment seemed fake. And if that were not enough, she was singing with a Don Jose that was actually convincing as a (failed) lover driven mad. Hearing the recording of Roberto Alagna singing Jose, I expected the worst: vocal fatigue and over-acting. What a surprise he was onstage. Yes, the beauty that was once in his voice is mostly gone. But he had everything else--characterful singing, musicianship, dynamics, diction, variety--including convincing, emotional acting. For once, the fight was not an embarrassment. That alone is a triumph of sorts. Even his attempt at a pianissimo scale at the end of the Flower Song was emotionally right, even if it wasn't his best vocal moment. And I never worried that he might not make it to the end. (God, how many times have a cringed when the Fourth Act gets underway.) What a pair they made. And I only saw it on TV! I'm kicking myself for not grabbing a ticket.

This riveting pair were surrounded by a capable cast with no weak links (the Escamillo, Teddy Tahu Rhodes, was actually quite handsome and fit and sang with panache!) in a mostly traditional production that did many more things right than it did wrong. As in almost every production I have seen, the chorus was routinely handled (some of that is Bizet's fault) and the set was more functional than inspired (but certainly not distracting). Micaela is a one-note role, but Barbara Frittoli sang her one note well and didn't try to over-act to compensate. And last but certainly not least, Yannick Nezet-Seguin conducted a performance to treasure. He gave the singers everything they needed but kept the tension going until the shattering end. You felt like he LOVED the music--all of it--and could translate that to the orchestra, the singers, and the house. The interludes were more than decoration for a change. The dances during two of them representing the battle between Carmen and Jose were a nice touch which helped. By all means, buy the DVD when it comes out. If anyone says it isn't wonderful, do NOT listen. Get it! And as for the hoopla that surrounded the production, with its "quittings" and "public announcements, all I have to say is: Gheorghiu who?

1984

I just managed to watch a video of Loren Maazel's magnum opus, 1984, which was recorded in 2005 at the premiere, was released in 2009 and finally made it to Netflix for me to watch. To start with a caveat, a video is not the same as a live performance, so one should not be mistaken for the other. But watching (and listening) to a recording of a new work can be beneficial in a different way from the live experience. First, you see the singers close up and in the case of Simon Keenlyside, whose acting is as wonderfully convincing as his singing, the camera's close proximity is no detriment. Second, you can hear the music more than once in a short period of time and replay parts to familiarize yourself with the work. And three, it costs a heap less money than flying to London to catch a performance.

I mention a specific work from a fairly recent premiere to make a larger point. 1984, like the vast majority of "successful" (well-attended and / or reviewed) or "unsuccessful" (not particularly well-attended or poorly reviewed) new operas suffers from the same repeating, damning, fatal flaw: competency. Nothing is worse than being merely proficient. Nothing so terrible as making no particular mistakes in composition or libretto. Nothing so tragic as being merely "good." Or worse, having "good" things in it. Because with something as complex as opera, anything less than "brilliant" is a failure, no matter how many people praise it or watch it...as Meyerbeer would tell you were he alive. Page after page of 1984 makes sense, has musical development, has interesting portions, differentiates between characters. The list of attributes could be extended. But nothing in it is wonderful. Nothing moves you, tests you, challenges you, or even teaches you something about how music works or succeeds. The production left nothing to be desired. The singing was (mostly) terrific. The DVD was made with skill and care and the elements of opera that make it such a pinnacle of musical expression, including melody, harmony, vocal writing, musical characterization, orchestration, etc. etc. were recorded with consummate skill. But what a disappointment. Who wants competency when you can hear genius at the touch of a button? Or at the very least, marvelous music?

Are there wonderful operas still being written? Yes. Thomas Ades' The Tempest is one. I was lucky enough to experience a production in Santa Fe that left me spellbound, moved, excited, quizzical, enchanted. A radio broadcast (now on CD) confirmed my every impression. This really IS great opera. But certainly anything but "easy" to hear or watch. It inhabits a weird oxymoron: complex simplicity. The music can be followed, enjoyed, "breathed in", experienced with pleasure in just one hearing as long as you let it take you where it needs to go. You have to listen with intelligence and alertness. "Humming" the tunes is not its goal in any way. It is not for opera fans who think Puccini was the last great composer (or ONLY great composer) and nothing is greater than La Boheme or Tosca. This Tempest makes demands. But if you rise to the "challenges" the rewards are bountiful. Perhaps most extraordinary of all is how much of the music is truly beautiful. And each encounter seems to reveal new layers you hadn't noticed before. By contrast, 1984 attempts beauty in the midst of ugliness (which befits the story and the characters maybe even this libretto) but only manages off-the-rack dissonance that stands in for the cruelty and pain of oppression, one-dimensional "passionate" passages that point at emotions rather than portray them, and an occasion "swelling" line that proves to be some lesser version of great music by someone else. You can't even HATE it. It isn't original or "difficult" or inept enough to elicit hatred. Like so much new music, nothing's exactly wrong with it. So everything is.