Opera workshop in Decorah

Luther College in Decorah has an opera scenes workshop class, which all by itself would be worth a look sometime. Next month, the students will present “Once Upon an Opera: Magic, Mystery, and Music,” an evening of opera scenes, in the Noble Recital Hall at Jenson-Noble Music Hall.

Performances will be at 7:30 p.m. Saturday, Nov. 17, and 1:30 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 18. No charge.

The performance will explore the themes of magic and mystery with excerpts from works of Rossini, Poulenc, Purcell, Mozart, Humperdinck and Johann Strauss.

'3 to 5 percent of the general population'

Back to Alex Ross' book -- nearing the end -- I'm not sure what to do with this information:

"Homosexual men, who make up approximately 3 to 5 percent of the general population, have played a disproportionately large role in composition of the last hundred years."

Ross doesn't attribute this flatly stated fact, and it's not buried away in the notes at the back of the book, so who knows where the 3-5 percent figure comes from. (That's lower than the 10-percent estimate often miscellaneously cited, but again, it's weird to just drop this information into the text and move on.)

Moving on, he lists the 20th century composers who are/were gay or bisexual. I guess the point is to lead into a long discussion of Britten and to some extent, how his operatic work was shaped by his unusual sexual proclivities.

Whether 20th century music was more dominated by gay/lesbian composers than in previous centuries, who can say? Ross doesn't attempt to.

Last point here: It's striking how much space Ross devotes to Britten, compared with other post-war composers. He glides quickly past some other luminaries such as Boulez without much comment (other than to generally categorize them as not appealing to a wider public).

Mahler No. 2, Cleveland Orchestra

Here's a review I wrote a few weeks ago about the Cleveland Orchestra performance of Mahler's Symphony No. 2 at Carnegie Hall...commentary regarding the Plain Dealer's treatment of Welser-Most to follow:

There’s no better place to hear Mahler’s immense and magisterial “Resurrection” Symphony than Carnegie Hall.

It was at Carnegie that the Symphony No. 2, named “Resurrection” because of its musically explicit movement from funereal grief into transcendent radiance, had its American premiere in 1908, with Mahler on the podium.

The hall’s creamy white walls and gilded ornament must vibrate in a special way whenever the thunderous music of 300-some orchestral players and choral voices is heard there.

It was heard again Thursday night, with the Cleveland Orchestra ending a three-night residency led by music director Franz Welser-Most, and the vibe was indeed special. Many of Mahler’s deepest ideas about music – the instrumental and sensual intensity, the admixture of deeply conflicted musical ideas, the contrasts of volume and color – are sampled in the Second, and the Clevelanders conveyed them in full glory.

Despite the orchestra’s gargantuan size, the score calls for innumerable solo and ensemble moments, where musicians such as concertmaster William Preucil and contra-bassoonist Jonathan Sherwin shined. The “Resurrrection” generates a “tornado of sound,” as a Carnegie Hall employee described it this week after rehearsals, but it also calls for some almost impossibly quiet music – moments of barely audible string playing, for example. Carnegie’s remarkable acoustics allow every texture of those gossamer-thin sounds to be heard, assuming the audience can control its coughing, feet-shuffling and program-dropping. (They could, last night.)

Welser-Most, who’s in his sixth season with the orchestra and will add the top job at the Vienna State Opera to his resume in 2010, conducted with more attention to dynamics and massing of sounds than to tempos and phrasing. In the opening movement, he seemed gunshy about unleashing the orchestra’s full power, reserving it for the truly explosive moments later. Tempos were generally kept in check, as were expressive glissandos, and it seemed at times as if some emotion was lost in the process. But Welser-Most clearly has a strong interpretation in mind, one that builds consistently through the movements and leads to a truly splendid sound in the finale.

Mahler began work on what became the first movement, which often is described as a funeral march but is more subtle and anxiety-ridden than that, in the late 1880s. The second and third movements, both gentler post-mortem reflections on a fallen hero’s life, according to some versions of the composer’s notes, were added in 1893; the third also has one of the most hair-raising key changes ever written – it feels as if the whole tonal fabric of the piece has been torn apart. The fourth movement is a short, compelling piece for contralto and greatly reduced orchestral forces.

Mahler struggled to complete the massive work after that, however, and it wasn’t until he attended the funeral of a close friend and heard a church hymn about resurrection that he had the key to finish the score.

Contralto Bernarda Fink sang with great poignance and conviction in the “Urlicht” (“Primeval Light”) lyrics that comprise the fourth movement and tell of man’s eternal search for meaning. Her singing was gorgeously phrased and with a passionate yearning that her entire body seemed to convey.

Fink was joined by soprano Malin Hartelius in the final movement, with text about resurrection and redemption that Mahler adapted and expanded. Hartelius’ German diction and phrasing was much less impressive than Fink’s and, judging from where I was sitting on the main floor, her sound was badly overwhelmed by the orchestra and chorus. The Westminster Symphonic Choir, based at Rider University in Lawrenceville, N.J., was well-prepared by director Joe Miller.

Other musicians deserving special applause were harpist Trina Struble, the flute section led by Joshua Smith, and the horns and percussionists who comprised the off-stage band that was audible through the barely open stage door, one of Mahler’s more inspired artistic ideas – one of amazingly many.

Larkin reading 'An Arundel Tomb'

Thanks to Terry Teachout for posting this You Tube video of Philip Larkin reading his heartbreaking poem, "An Arundel Tomb" -- and for readers in Maryland, it's not Anne Arundel Tomb.

Strib review of Latte Da's "Boheme"

Here's the review from Graydon Royce in the Strib.

Dissonance in 'The Rest is Noise'

I'm not quite done with "The Rest is Noise," the provocative new history of 20th century music by New Yorker music writer Alex Ross, but pending the end, here are some thoughts midstream:

-- What's with the title? Maybe I'm thick-headed -- I know it's a reference to the closing lines of "Hamlet" -- but it's not clear to me how it refers to the tortured history of classical music in the 20th century.

-- Ross is an excellent writer with a great eye for detail and historical anecdote, and his perspective on the composers and their work is intelligent and well-reasoned. But he tends to veer off in odd directions, as if he's not exactly sure what the book is about. Do we really need dozens of pages on Hitler's musical taste and how the Kremlin put the screws to Shostakovich? It's fascinating but it's been told elsewhere, and it takes the narrative far from where Ross seemed inclined to go.

(The subtitle is "Listening to the Twentieth Century," which is broad and general enough to cover a lot of material. Still, I think Ross was just filling manuscript pages at times, such as in his discussion of Duke Ellington -- I don't think Ellington, for all his genius, deserves a place in this historical pageant, unless Ross is preparing to dump a ton of pop music coverage in the late chapters.)

-- Call me old-fashioned, but I think Ross was obligated to footnote in the traditional way, rather than list all the references in the back of the book. Much of "The Rest is Noise" reads like secondary history, not primary research, and to my mind that requires explicit footnoting way up front. The book may not be intended for a scholarly audience, but in my opinion, that doesn't forgive the need for fair footnoting.

-- Last point for now -- what's Ross getting at by lumping the FDR-era federal arts projects with the Nazi and Communist control of artists during that period? From page 217:

The period from the mid-thirities onward marked the onset of the most warped and tragic phase in twentieth-century music: the total politicizing of the art by totalitarian means. On the eve of he Second World War, dictators had manipulated popular resentment and media spectacle to take control of half of Europe. Hitler in Germany and Austria, Mussolini in Italy, Horthy in Hungary, and Franco in Spain. In the Soviet Union, Stalin refined Lenin's revolutionary dictatorship into an omnipotent machine, relying on a cult of personality, rigid control of the media, and an army of secret police. In America, Franklin D. Roosevelt was granted extraordinary executive powers to counter the ravages of the Depression, leading conservatives to fear an erosion of constitutional process, particularly when federal arts programs were harnessed to politial purposes. In Germany, Hitler forged the most unholy alliance of art and politics that the world had ever seen.

Leaving aside the politically simplistic description of FDR, what's Ross getting at by lumping him with Hitler, Stalin and Mussolini? Is he suggesting that FDR's federal jobs programs for artists was somehow comparable to the monstrous abuses of the Nazis and Soviets? That FDR "totally politicized" American music of that era?
Since Ross never goes back to explain, that's the impression he leaves.

He repeats the same vague guilt-by-association on page 315:

Hitler, too, believes in "music or all." He demanded, for example, that new opera houses contain as many as three thousand seats. But in Nazi Germany, as in New Deal America, classical music could be sold to the masses only with pressure from above.

Again, what's his point? Most people would say it's absurd to feature "Nazi Germany" and "New Deal America" in the same sentence regarding arts policy; Ross is welcome to try to make a connection, but he never does -- so it just comes off as sounding kooky, and sloppy.

Notes from Peter Gelb

Peter Gelb, whose 1-year-old tenure as the Met's general manager has been analyzed far too much already, met with arts journalists from around the country a few weeks ago. While the NEA Arts Journalism program insists that these conversations are off the record, I'm not convinced Gelb even knew who we were -- he seemed puzzled when he came out into his reception room and found us all there -- and he shared no great trade secrets. (No minor ones, either.) But his comments give more insight into how he regards his mission:

Regarding the New Yorker profile by Rebecca Mead, which was in print that week: "It was a very good article for the Met and very flattering to me, so I'm not going to complain about it."

About the New York City Opera's incoming artistic director, Gerard Mortier: "I've known Gerard for many years. He's a very interesting, bright director ... it's good for opera and good for the Met to have stimulating things happening" just across the Lincoln Center plaza.

New works: "We have a commisioning program and a very ambitious program with Lincoln Center" to match 10 top composers with 10 top dramaticsts to produce new works.

"One of the things I decided to do (when he first arrived) was to put on major contemporary works on an annual basis." As in Glass' "Satyagraha," one of seven new productions this year.

About the popularity of the Met's "HD Live" simulcasts in movie theaters around the country, including two in the Twin Cities: "I was surprised at how surprised people were (at their success). Many people thought they would not work at all." The live simulcasts are "an audience development tool ... an enticement to want to go to the Met or to your local opera company."

Regarding guest conductors: The Met has infrequently showcased major conductors aside from James Levine in recent years. "I gave a mandate to myself to bring the greatest conductors in the world to the Met."

The challenge ahead: "The Met got the idea (in recent years) that it was sold out on a regular basis and so it didn't need to reach out beyond what it was doing. I believe opera will die and the Met will fail if we don't take a more proactive approach on all fronts."

Who had it first?

Great minds at the Minnesota Opera and Metropolitan Opera think alike. Though it's not a perfectly new idea, the poster treatment for upcoming productions of Gounod's "Romeo and Juliet" have a certain similarity...in the case of the Minnesota Opera, where this image is dominant among the five shows being promoted, it's worth discussing whether opera ads need to be this sexy.

"Boheme" at Latte Da

Theatre Latte Da in Minneapolis has brought back its intimate, cafe-style version of "La Boheme," this time at the Southern Theater. I saw it a few years ago at the Loring Playhouse and while the voices weren't ready for the opera house (or even for Chanhassen), the production had a naive charm and sweet immediacy that was surprisingly effective.
Here's the preview from the Star Tribune, and the review from the Pioneer Press.
The production runs through Nov. 18.

Until Vivica arrives...

Vivica Genaux, the Alaska-born mezzo who's been a favorite at the Minnesota Opera since her turn in "Cenerentola," returns for the first time in three years as Isabella in the upcoming "Italian Girl in Algiers." Until then, check out her latest release, a world premiere recording of Vivaldi's "Atenaide," also featuring Sandrine Piau, Nathalie Stutzmann and Paul Agnew.
Find out more about the Naive Classique release here.

'Suor Angelica' in Central Park

Thinking of "Suor Angelica," my family and I heard it last summer in New York's Central Park (not Rochester's) -- a hot night and we arrived late for the free performance by the New York Grand Opera -- all the seats in front were taken, but we could squeeze in on a bench to the side, by the trucks that generated power for the stage. The noise of the trucks was annoying and the fumes were occupational hazards, plus my wife was inclined to talk to homeless people who were camped on benches nearby, but in spite of it all, it was a memorable evening. Maria Knapik, a Polish-born soprano, was a lovely Sister Angelica; we missed her as Nedda in the pairing with "Pagliacci."

'Seven Deadly Sins' and 'Suor Angelica'

In one of the year's more creative pairings of one-act operas, the U of M Opera Theatre will put Kurt Weill's "Seven Deadly Sins" side by side by Puccini's "Suor Angelica" next month at the Ted Mann Concert Hall in Minneapolis.

Performances are at 7:30 p.m. Nov. 8-10 and 1:30 p.m. Nov. 11 at the Mann, 2128 Fourth St. S. Tickets are $20 for adults, $10 for U of M students. For tickets, call (612) 624-2345 or go to www.tickets.umn.ed.

Director David Walsh says that "despite a very different musical style and story, the theme of lost innocence connects (the two works) intimately. 'Seven Deadly Sins' is a story of the destruction of innocence, idealism and romance. The best instincts of human nature -- for example, openness, generosity and sensuality -- are perverted or discredited in a highly cynical way. Similarly, 'Suor Angelica' distills mysticism, the supernatural, religious ecstasy, sexual repression and moral authoritarianism into a psychodrama about desire, guilt and punishment for mortal sins."

Too bad it runs just as the Minnesota Opera's "Italian Girl in Algiers" opens at the Ordway.

NYCO gets a grip on 'Agrippina'

A funny thing happened on the way to Lincoln Center with Handel’s “Agrippina,” one of opera’s early masterpieces: The New York City Opera turned it into a farce, a bawdy sit-com about the decadence of Imperial Rome.

Trimmed by a few hours from Handel’s original concept and tricked up with a pistol, martini shaker, cocaine and suntan lotion, it’s not exactly the “Agrippina” that Venetian audiences were wowed by in 1709-10. At times it seems as if this revival, directed by Lillian Groag, is badly off the tracks, careening from one clever sight gag to the next, interspersed with exquisite music.

Stick with it to the end, as at least a few people near me did not, and the payoff is a hilarious postscript in the supertitles. But that’s not quite enough to justify the liberties taken with the material.

The production opened Oct. 14 and continues through Nov. 2 at the New York State Theater.

The NYCO has been one of the chief physicians attending to the revival of Handel’s operas, dating back to the groundbreaking production of “Giulio Cesare” in 1966, not long after Lincoln Center opened. Some say that many of Handel’s 50 operas should be allowed to rest in peace, but then you hear the surpassing beauty of much of “Agrippina,” for example, and it more than justifies the experience.

“Agrippina” was a blockbuster hit for Handel, who was just 24 when it premiered, and the music alone explains that, though it was helped by the politically charged libretto and its novel blending of classical drama with lighter comic touches.

Agrippina, like most of the other characters in the show, was a historical figure in the early days of the Empire, and a particularly notorious one. In Handel’s version, she schemes to get her son Nero named heir to the throne by her second husband, Claudius. In the end, her hard work and corruption pays off, though hardly as she expects and not without a great deal of suspended disbelief by the audience.

There’s plenty of comic potential in the characters and situations – Mozart would have fun with the same type of palace intrigue and scandal 70 years later in “Le Nozze di Figaro.” But Handel hardly conceived of “Agrippina” as a Rossinian romp; with gimmicks and gags plugged into virtually every scene, it’s tough to take seriously the tender and genuinely dramatic moments.

Soprano Heidi Stober, as the emperor’s consort Poppea (the wished-for consort of at least two other men in the palace as well) gets many of those moments, and she’s breathtaking. The Wisconsin-born singer, making her City Opera debut in the role, has an attractive, glowing voice and easily handles the demanding coloratura passages. Jennifer Rivera, a mezzo singing the trouser role of Nero, also is excellent and shows amazing precision and musicianship in her final aria.

The show’s high point is the intensely expressive and tragic aria, “Voi che udite,” which is allotted to Otho, the emperor’s preferred heir and Poppea’s suitor. Countertenor David Walker, one of two countertenors in this production, wrings every bit of pathos from it but also shows a winning comic talent in the bedroom scenes, and Zaire-born bass Joao Fernandes makes an impressive American debut as the emperor, singing with richness and authority even when he seems completely bamboozled by what’s happening around him.

Nelly Miricioiu never quite found her groove as Agrippina during the Oct. 16 performance, tending toward a shrill, uneasy tone in her upper range in the first act and barely hinting at the psychological complexity that makes her character so dangerous. But again, that’s basically lost in this light-hearted and almost random production.

Even if the singers didn’t show up, the orchestra led by Ransom Wilson would be worth hearing all on its own. Handel’s score is incredibly varied and imaginative, loaded with special instrumental effects and great solo moments. Wilson managed to keep a strong sense of forward movement and cohesion throughout.

John Conklin’s set design, aside from the annoying multiplication of Nero images that pop up through the show, is effective and highly versatile, allowing scene changes to occur almost without notice. Lighting designer Mark McCullough enriches the thick impasto on some of those Roman walls with an atmospheric, burnished light. Their work adds greatly to the power of Otho’s big aria.

And here’s a first: I’ve never credited the writer of the English supertitles in a review, but Kelley Rourke gets extra points for the post-game wrapup on what became of Agrippina, Nero and the rest, according to Tacitus and Suetonius.

Let’s just say it ain’t pretty.

An overture

Here's where I start. Here's where you start.

I'm 50. Passionate about my lovely wife, my kids, Puccini, Proust, Faure, fiction, Mahler, Monet, everything French.

I'm headed to New York in a few days for a more complete immersion in classical music than I've had in some time, and for people at home and abroad I thought it was time to get this Web log started.

More to come -- have to go pick up Curly at the canine salon.