Verdi´s misguided girl still moves audiences

"Traviata": misguided girl, led astray, leading a dissipated life. Verdi´s "La Traviata": one of a handful of super-hit operas. Almost no season goes by without a staging with orchestra in Buenos Aires or La Plata, plus those semiprofessional efforts with piano where young singers make their tryouts. This year the Ensamble Lírico Orquestal took up the challenge for three Sunday afternoons with two casts at the Auditorio de Belgrano.

            Some years ago I had the chance of reading in French the original novel by Alexandre Dumas Fils "La Dame aux Camélias" ("The Lady of the Camelias"). Markedly autobiographical, Dumas in his elegant prose explains in much detail the lives of these very expensive kept girls only affordable to aristocratic lovers with huge fortunes.

            Their life was very public; they threw expensive parties, showed off ever renewed fashion clothes and went often to the Paris Opera. Their promiscuity often led to venereal disease or tuberculosis, then called consumption (the Koch bacillus hadn´t been discovered yet).

            Giuseppe Verdi saw in it an opportunity to do something truly new: an opera on a contemporary subject. It was indeed a rather astonishing change from the habitual libretti about events on far-off times. But even in the edulcorated libretto by Francesco Piave, where the most audacious words words are "to enjoy" and "pleasure", it proved too much for the Austrian censure and Verdi was forced to accept a première with the action put back in the early XVIIIth Century, which anyway had a well-earned licentious reputation. Only later was he allowed to bring the opera to his time.

            So this was a revolutionary opera for that period (1853). Nowadays anything goes, and we are in an a-historical state of mind; but try to imagine the impact of a compassionate story about a high-class prostitute in love for the first time, just when her illness is becoming terminal, confronted with the father of Alfredo, who represents the self-righteousness bourgeois mentality and finds in her a threat to the family.

            Anyway, it became an immense success. Verdi´s music was and is magnificent, and the story continues to move audiences.

            Before I go on, two intriguing questions: a) why Violetta´s lovers aren´t struck by the same contagious illness?; b) was Germont being cynical or silly when he doesn´t seem to hear her confession that she is dying?  For in fact the problem would soon be solved by death.

            I empathize with the people of the ELO (Ensamble Lírico Orquestal). They are professional, hard-working and sincere. However, both last year and now they chose operas that are surefire whilst in other seasons they offered such novelties as Respighi´s "Sleeping Beauty" ("La Bella addormentata nel bosco") and Verdi´s "Un giorno di regno".

             Although their denomination leads one to believe that it is just an opera company, their Artistic Coordinator Gustavo Codina considers ELO as a group that can also offer orchestral and choral-orchestral concerts.  And this year after "La Traviata" they have programmed a Mozart session featuring the Requiem Mass and a Slav concert with music of Dvorák and Tchaikovsky among others.

            There were three performances of "La Traviata" with two casts; I saw the last one, with the first cast. ELO last year presented "Carmen" eliminating four rows of the stalls and placing the orchestra in the cleaned-up space; it worked well acoustically and visually, and this year they did the same. A 41-strong orchestra  of good level played there under the sensitive and knowledgeable conducting of Dante Ranieri, who as an ex-tenor has a natural feel for the needs of the singers. Just one cavil: the short Carnival chorus in the last act was done a cappella, but it should have off-stage instruments.  And a detail: the baritone cabaletta, rarely done, was included.

            There was a big choir on stage (71 singers), though I would have preferred a smaller one; the placing of part of it on the stalls´ right side for the First Act felt artificial. Called the Coral Ensamble, they were well prepared by Codina and sung with enthusiasm.        

            María José Dulín coped well with Violetta from the Second Act to the last, for she is expressive and a good actress, but "Sempre libera" showed her uncomfortable and rather strident. Nevertheless the final result is certainly positive. Fermín Prieto´s voice is  weak in the moments of expansion, though he phrases with taste and sings softly when required. Fernando Santiago as Germont is more a character baritone than a lyric one such as the part needs; however,  he sang with authority and played a stern Father.

            In the smaller parts, Nora Balanda was a disinvolt Flora, Vanina de Bonis a tasteful and slim Annina, Cristian Taleb a matinée-idol Gastone, Leonardo Menna a dour and rather young Douphol, Fernando Grassi a firm D´Obigny and Alejandro Di Nardo an authoritative Grenvil.

            As happened last year with "Carmen", Raúl Marego –bless him- presented a simple and natural "Traviata". With an agreeable unit set by Daniel Feijóo that works well for the first Three Acts, nice costumes by Mariela Daga and correct lighting by Ernesto Bechara, the staging was unexceptionable. Even the choreography by Margarita Fernández and the dancing of the two choruses at the beginning of the Third Act were quite pleasant and well done.

            As happens sometimes, the total result was greater than the  sum of its parts.

For Buenos Aires Herald

A golden concert and some wonderful instruments

            Some years ago I almost accomplished a dream, but a matter of timing made it impossible: I wanted to visit the two Esterházy palaces, the main building at Eisenstadt (Austria) and the Summer one crossing the Hungarian frontier, not far from the former.  Some days ago, I had the next best thing: the B.A. debut of the Austro-Hungarian Haydn Philharmonic, the Eisenstadt resident ensemble.  Conducted by guest Alexander Lonquich, who is also a world-class pianist, they offered a golden concert at the Colón for Nuova Harmonia.

            Indeed, the combination of the pianist-conductor, the Orchestra and the three greatest Austrian composers proved ideal. The generous programme was further extended with three encores, for a grand total of more than a hundred minutes of great music and playing.

            Franz Schubert wrote for sure eight symphonies but as a shadowy but probable seventh was never found there is a hiatus between the still classical Sixth and the palpably Romantic Eighth (Unfinished) and the enormous Ninth. Of the initial six only the Fourth, called "Tragic", has a markedly dramatic character. The Fifth, in B flat major, inhabits another world, made of charm and elegance. Played only once in 1816  and rediscovered 25 years later, its freshness is everlasting.

            The Orchestra was founded in 1987 by members of the Vienna Philharmonic and of important Hungarian orchestras gathered by conductor Adam Fischer. This was before the fall of the Iron Curtain and had as its aim to promote the Franz Joseph Haydn legacy and the musical communion of countries politically diverse. Although their biography tells us that they number 45 (the perfect size for the mature Haydn and Mozart symphonies) here only 30 were present, and this showed in some thinness of the strings (no matter how good the players, there´s a matter of lack of density in the sound). Between 1987 they recorded all 104 Haydn symphonies for Nimbus, and since 2004 they are doing it again for Dabringhaus and Grimm.

            Alexander Lonquich is a mature musician of great talent and proved an essential feature of this tour. He has a marvelously clean and precise piano technique and is also a very able conductor of great stylistic sense. As to the players, they are consumate professionals, but I would single out the lovely sound of the flute and the oboe.

            The Schubert Fifth went smoothly and lightly, as it should, and I am nitpicking if I missed some of the piquant humor of Beecham´s interpretation or found slightly fast tempi for the last two movements. Then, Mozart´s Concerto Nº 25, one of his grandest, with a first movement of almost 450 measures. Lonquich was magisterial and admirable in his playing, including a cadenza that seemed his own (we don´t have Mozart´s), and the Orchestra was almost impeccable.  They then offered -closing the First Part- an encore, splendidly done: the scintillating third movement of Mozart´s Concerto Nº 17, with an adventurous cadenza, I presume by Lonquich.

            Haydn´s Symphony Nº 92, "Oxford", was written just after he left his 30 years´ service as composer for Prince Nicolas Esterhazy (although almost at the end of his long tenure he composed several symphonies for Paris) and it precedes the famous and final Salomon symphonies (93 to 104).  The "Oxford" was belatedly called thus for he was given by the venerable university of that English city the title of doctor "honoris causa", but in fact it was a part of the Paris symphonies. It is a beautiful score contrasting sparkling fragments with slow, expressive ones.

            No wonder that with their vast experience on Haydn the players were in their element, and so was Lonquich as conductor, with stylish phrasing and firm command. The steady applause and their visible enjoyment gave us two Haydn encores: the last movements of Symphonies Nº 88 and Nº 73, "The Hunt" , both played with memorable qualities.

            The second concert I´m reviewing had special characteristics, for it started the first subscription series of the Museo Fernández Blanco dedicated to the Notable Musical Instruments of their colection, the best in South America. Presented by the Museum´s Director Jorge Cometti and by violinist Pablo Saraví with opportune and instructive information, it allowed the audience to hear great instruments played by the outstanding artists of the Cuarteto Petrus: violinists Saraví and Hernán Briático, violist Adrián Felizia and cellist Gloria Pankaeva (she was the only one that played a copy instead of an original, but the model was no less than a 1740 Venetian Montagnana).

            The programme started with two Johann Sebastian Bach pieces: the Contrapunctus 1 and 3 (not 2 as stated in the hand programme) of "The Art of Fugue"  played on Guadagnini and Cappa violins, a Mantegazza viola, and cello. Then, the wonderful Mozart Quartet Nº 15 in D minor, an incredibly intense and advanced work; the Venetian violins were by Santo Serafin and Francesco Gobetti and the viola by Lorenzo Storioni (the last great master from Cremona).

            Finally, the most famous of Dvorák´s Quartets, Op.96, "American", where the star instruments of the evening were the Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesù played by Saraví, the Andrea and Giuseppe Guarnieri (by Briático) and the viola signed Giovanni Grancino (Milanese).  The artists were magnificent throughout the evening, and I was especially struck by the smoothness and beauty of sound obtained by the violist.

            Principal curators: Saraví, Cometti, Horacio Piñeiro and Leila Makarius. They did a great job.

For Buenos Aires Herald

Britten´s “Curlew River”, admirable adaptation of a Noh play

             From 1940 to his death in 1976 the acknowledged greatest Btitish composer was Benjaminm Britten. Although he was brilliant in many fields, perhaps his greatest contribution was in opera. After the operetta "Paul Bunyan" (New York, 1941) he had an enormous success with "Peter Grimes" (London, 1945), still considered the best British opera ever and offered twice by the Colón (1979 and 1986). Then followed "The Rape of Lucretia" (Glyndebourne, 1946, premièred  Colón 1954); "Albert Herring", a comedy (Glyndebourne, 1947; Colón after 1970); the charming "Let´s make an opera", for kids, Aldeburgh 1949 (offered here).

             Then, a fundamental Britten still missing here; "Billy Budd", on Melville (London, 1951) and also unpremièred in BA, "Gloriana", on Elizabeth I, London 1953. Afterwards, "The Turn of the Screw", on Henry James (Venice, 1954; BA, Coliseo, 1961); "Noye´s Fludde", 1958, a one-acter on a Chester Mystery Play, which I saw some years ago at La Plata; and the marvelous "A Midsummer Night´s Dream" (Aldeburgh, 1960, and Colón, 1961).

            And now, a great innovation: his three  parables written for an Orford church with libretti by William Plomer: 1964, "Curlew River"; 1966, "The Burning Fiery Furnace"; and "The Prodigal Son", 1968.  (Orford is a small port close to Aldeburgh, the Suffolk fishermen village where Britten founded his Festival). It was a small parish church; the composer´s idea was to start each parable with the monks singing in Latin an old hymn (Procession) before the action, and at the end going out.

            Naturally the singers are few (even those of the choir) and only a restricted instrumental ensemble can be accommodated, for of course the audience is limited by the proportions of the church. Was Orford chosen because Ellen Orford is the principal female character in "Peter Grimes"?

            Of the three "Curlew River" is rather special, for it is an adaptation of a Noh play. Britten recorded it in the Orford church. His programme notes tell us: "It was in Tokyo in January 1956 that I saw a Noh-drama for the first time, two different performances of the same play (´Sumidagawa´ by Juro Montomasa). The whole occasion made a tremendous impression on me: the economy of style, the intense slowness of the action, the marvelous skill and control of the performers, the mixture of chanting, speech, singing, it all offered a totally new ´operatic´ experience"."Surely the medieval religious drama in England would have a comparable setting?"

            Says Colin Graham, the original producer: "the emotion should never be expressed with the face or eyes but always by a rehearsed ritualistic movement of the hands, head, or body". About the Madwoman: "there must never be any question here of female impersonation: monks are representing the characters".

            As you can see, to tackle "Curlew River" is a tall order, but it has been in the minds of the founders of Lírica Lado B for a long time. Readers know that although I have disagreed with many staging aspects, I have always supported their policy of premièring interesting operas since 2009 and up to 2013. "Curlew River" is their first XXth century choice and I certainly welcome it, for none of the parables have been presented here.

            This comes after a barren year and it has some special characteristics. In a recent interview the Musical Director Camilo Santostefano explained that Faber, the editors of Britten, helped with special conditions to have the performing materials. I was surprised by the decision to give the performances for free and to finance themselves by crowdfunding. As to the venue, it is a factory reclaimed by its workers, IMPA, in a dark, 4-block street, Querandíes. Hardly the conventional place for the project and certainly not a church. But two matters explain the choice: it has good resonant acoustics (as Orford´s parish church) and it is huge, which allows the monks to come in procession from the far-off depths of the building. It may not be beautiful but it is functional. Nevertheless, I would have preferred a church.

            The plot is absolutely simple: a mad woman searches for her lost child; the boatman tells her that he died, is considered a saint and his tomb is nearby; the spirit of the child appears and talks to the woman, appeasing her pain and restoring her reason. The music is stark and moving; after the starting hymn the story develops with achingly beautiful music for the Woman, firm and solid for the boatman, narrative for the Traveller, supported by seven completely contrasting instruments that offer strange mixtures of sound.

            Pablo Pollitzer was marvelous in his Mad Woman, all expression and intensity, and Alejandro Spies was a tower of strength both physically and vocally as the Boatman. Gabriel Rabinovich (Traveller) was correct and young Max Hochmuth revealed a splendid baritone voice as the Abbot. Constanza Leone seemed a real boy and sang very purely. The seven players  were very good (viola, flute, horn, bass, percussion, organ and harp), coordinated by Santostefano, and the voices of the choir were first-rate.

            The stage directors Diego Ernesto Rodríguez and German Ivancic, the "Barbados" (that´s what they call themselves and indeed they are quite pilous) tried to follow the minimalistic Noh-inspired action and mainly they did it well, except for the unnecessary three dancers-acolytes. I disliked the strange contraptions added to the singers´ faces.  Sober costumes and adequate lighting completed  the panorama.

For Buenos Aires Herald

Integrals, a splendid programming idea

 

            In recent weeks an important panorama of contemporary music was presented at the Colón. During a week, the CETC (Center for Experimentation) offered an integral of the Iannis Xenakis Quartets, a retrospective on Francisco Kröpfl´s production and an integral of Marta Lambertini´s chamber music on literary texts. And to crown it all, the start of the Colón Contemporáneo in the Main Hall gave us the complete Piano Etudes by György Ligeti played by its foremost interpreter, Pierre-Laurent Aimard.

            The idea of integrality is very formative and intellectually rich, for you can follow a creator´s trajectory in an organized and satisfying way. It works well if the numbers help: you can do the Beethoven symphonies, quartets and even the 32 piano sonatas, but an integral of the Bach cantatas or the Haydn symphonies can only be possible over many years, and such extended plans often fail. And of course the quality of the music is essential.

            But more restricted integrals such as those in the first paragraph of this article are certainly possible and useful even for veterans among the audience. I will give pride of place to the Ligeti/Aimard afternoon, for it probably was the most perfect symbiosis of admirable music and great playing we are going to have this year. And I was very glad to see the Colón almost full, mostly with young people.

             One anecdote: it started 15 minutes late "due to the agglomeration at the box office". (So said a voice to the audience). I was told that there were two queues: one for those who had bought the tickets on Internet, and one for last-minute patrons.

            Ligeti came to the attention of the wider public when Stanley Kubrick included the composer´s "Atmospheres" in his film "2001". By the way, Colón Contemporáneo ends this year with precisely that famous movie with a live orchestra playing the music selected by Kubrick.

            Ligeti´s only and controversial opera, "Le Grand Macabre", was seen at the Colón though with a reduced orchestration due to a labor conflict. And important concert creations have also been heard, placing him as the most interesting Hungarian composer of the after-WW II years.

            His three books of Piano Etudes were composed late in his career: the First in 1985, the Second in 1993 and the Third in 2001. They are probably the most valuable Etudes since the Debussy series. The rhythmic language comes from an unlikely mix: the Chopin/Schumann tradition and the indigenous music of Subsaharian Africa. Say the programme notes: these Etudes "conceive the pulse as a musical atom, an indivisible common denominator multiplied in different ways to generate rhythms".

            Matters explored include the Theory of Chaos, the Indonesian gamelan, the cool jazz of Bill Evans or the mechanical music similar to the pianola pieces of Conlon Nancarrow. Sample titles: "Autumn in Warsaw",  "The Devil´s staircase", "Infinite column", "Out of breath": they all explore to the piano´s possibilities to the hilt, with vast imagination and freshness.

            The programme also included the early "Musica ricercata" (1951-3), eleven pieces which start exploiting two notes and end up with all twelve of the chromatic scale.

            The playing was out of this world. It was Ligeti himself that chose Aimard for a recording of the composer´s complete piano music, and it is still the obliged reference, for this artist has a prodigious technique coupled with ideal understanding of the creator´s style. Memorable is the word for the experience of hearing him in this repertoire.

            I will be brief about the three CETC Integrals, but two of them were quite interesting. The forbidding language of Iannis Xenakis, the composer-architect-mathematician   , certainly takes some time to absorb, for it is uncompromising and strong. The Jack Quartet (USA) tackled valiantly this very difficult music with mostly Greek names: "Tetora", "ST/4, l-080262", "Ergma", and especially the 15-minute "Tetras".

            I have long enjoyed Lambertini´s production, one of the best composers of her generation (she is is my contemporary). Her music is humorous, fresh, accessible. She has a fine ear for beautiful textures, and so she has written for the Trio Luminar (flute, viola and harp, as in a famous Debussy Sonata). No less than five pieces were on an author dear to her, Lewis Carroll: she has written two operas, "Alice in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass", and the chosen scores for this concert belong to the same world of fantasy and refinement. Naturally, the Trio Luminar (or members of it) played them with their usual  delicacy.

            The other two pieces were vocal: on Ronsard ("Rossignol, mon mignon"), and on a different mood, the long and rather dramatic setting of "En el aura del sauce", poem by Juan L. Ortiz. Susanna Moncayo, in good voice, was accompanied by the Trio Luminar.

            Francisco Kröpfl, born in Hungary in 1931, has formed Argentine composers for several generations. His retrospective presented scores of widely divergent times: the first was from 1958, the others from 2006, 2007 and 2011. Severe, cerebral music, presented by the composer and correctly played by pianist Bruno Mesz and groups that included in one case  ("Relato") the spoken voice of Lucía Maranca.

            A strange hodgepodge of sounds, "Metropolis", "not what is usually considered as music", said the composer, was presented in its second version, with eight channels of sound. Hardly my cup of tea, but others may have more empathy for this sort of experiment.

For Buenos Aires Herald 

“Tosca”, the lasting attraction of pure melodrama

             During my 25 years at the Herald I´ve had plenty of opportunities to write about successive revivals of "Tosca", for the most verista Puccini opera is always being done (the same goes for "La Bohème" and –a bit less- for "Madama Butterfly"). "Tosca" is now 115-years-old, but nothing indicates that its attraction is diminishing. As in "Hamlet"  –though of course quite in another world- all the principals die. It is a gory opera in which torture for the first time is crudely shown, and a sad portrait of the Rome of 1800, where the Pope´s – and the Queen´s- Secret Police acts impunely –and immunely.

            We are in June 1800, the time of the Battle of Marengo, won by Napoleon (Consul of the French Republic) against Baron Michael Melas, General of the Austrian Army. This forced an armistice that made Napoleon the master of northern  Italy.  Queen Maria Carolina of Naples and Sicily  had taken refuge in Palermo (courtesy of Admiral Nelson!) in 1798 due to the threat of French troops, and both the French-Revolution-inspired Roman Republic and the Partenopean (Neapolitan) Republic were installed. But by 1800 a strange thing happened: the Republicans were vanquished, the Queen returned to Naples, and the Rome area, hitherto part of the ample Papal States, for some years depended (for protective reasons) on the territorial attachment to the Kingdom of Naples.

            This Queen was redoubtable and formidable.  Famous for her ruthlessness, she gave no quarter to the Roman Republicans, called the Volterran.

            So Scarpia in the opera is the Chief of the Secret Police both of the Pope and of the Queen. Mario Cavaradossi is a Volterran, and Angelotti is, as says the libretto, "the Consul of the spent Roman Republic". All this is much more clearly stated in the original drama (1887) by Victorien Sardou that became a vehicle for the great actress Sarah Bernhardt in Paris and eventually in Italy. For Sardou was very meticulous about historical backgrounds.

            The composer had as librettists the same team as in "La Bohème", Luigi Illica and Giuseppe Giacosa, who offered Puccini a drama full of action and suspense. The musician gave its full due to the strong dramatic effects, but also kept alive his plangent lyricism in the two tenor arias and Tosca´s "Vissi d´arte" (although, for the only time in the opera, it impedes the tragic flow of events).

            Buenos Aires Lírica started its season at the Avenida with "Tosca", and gave as its rationale that BAL had never offered it. True, but operagoers that encompass the whole area of influence of our city have probably seen the "Tosca" offered late last year at the Teatro Argentino. I didn´t need another one, but others may feel differently.

            Well, this "Tosca" didn´t lack conviction either from the principals or the conductor. And although I have serious strictures about the production, at least it respects time and place (the latter, however, suggested rather vaguely).

            I believe that Mónica Ferracani is our best soprano for this forceful role. Now in her fifties, she looks splendid, tall and beautiful, and her singing line is impeccable, as are her dramatic instincts. Enrique Folger has a big intense voice, and always sings and acts with utmost involvement; what his Mario lacks is the refinement for the quieter moments and the restraint to sing "E lucevan le stelle" straight, without added crying (the defect Italians call "piangione"). As to the Scarpia, the Cuban-Chilean Homero Pérez-Miranda is well-known here in dramatic roles; he is a seasoned performer with stage presence, firm singing and the ability to give innuendo and villainy to his vocal inflexions, but his voice projection is somewhat veiled, without the expansion needed for the crucial climaxes.

            Christian Peregrino´s Angelotti was marred by uncertain pìtch, though the voice is strong. Enzo Romano´s Sacristan was played straight, without the usual buffo relief, and with a rather arid voice. Sergio Spina shouted too much as the servile Spoletta, but the character was well acted. Walter Schwarz was a correct Jailer, and Cecilia Arroyo a fresh little Shepherd.

            Javier Logioia Orbe was a very positive conductor, who has studied the score minutely and provided at all times the right tempi and accents, as well as providing the necessary support for his singers. But there were two matters to mention: he never got from the orchestra the terrifying fortissimi that are needed at some points; and it was a miscalculation to sing on stage the Second Act cantata, for it obliterated the important dialogue between Scarpia and Mario. Good choir in the First Act (Juan Casasbellas) plus the Children Choir Petits Coeurs (Rosana Bravo).

            The positive thing about the production was the costumes of Stella Maris Müller: they were both historically accurate and in the case of Tosca´s gowns, quite attractive (white for the First Act, an appropriate red for the blood-tinged Second and Third Acts).

            Mario Perusso was producer and stage designer. He moved the singers well, but  you scarcely recognised the three places depicted: the church Sant´Andrea della Valle, the Palazzo Farnese and the Castel Sant´Angelo. And mystification abunded: Tosca´s suicide went for nothing: a blackout... Mario´s death was opportunely veiled by smoke... The torture was seen, it shouldn´t. And Scarpia´s death is precisely told by Tosca: "I planted the blade in his heart", but here she wounded him three times in different places. And so on.

For Buenos Aires Herald 

La calle de los pianistas, the Karin-Natasha relationship

            You may remember that more than a year ago I wrote an article about "Bloody daughter", the candid film about Martha Argerich and her three daughters made by one of them. It was very revealing about the real character of the famous pianist. Now, closing officially the BAFICI (although in fact it went on for another day), an enthusiastic crowd witnessed the local première of "La calle de los pianistas", a similar exercise essentially about the very special relationship of Karin Lechner and her daughter Natasha Binder. And to boot, after the viewing we were further rewarded by a compact recital by both artists. The packed Colón gave them an ovation.

            Let me enter a personal note. Karin Lechner was raised as a kid in the same building where I now live (at the time my mother was the owner)  and she was often at this flat, for she started a life-long friendship with my niece Marifé. Moreover, well before that I was a friend of Karin´s mother Lyl De Raco and of her husband Jorge Lechner. Lyl remarried with Martín Tiempo and Sergio Tiempo is their son, born in Venezuela, for that was the post of Martín, diplomat.

            Let me complete the dynasty by telling you that Lyl is the daughter of two pianists, Antonio De Raco (who died nonagenarian some years ago) and Elizabeth Westerkamp, who is still alive, centenary, and was present at the Colón!

            Why the Street of the Pianists? Well, the Rue Bosquet Nº 22 at Brussels is where the Tiempo-De Raco-Lechner have lived for decades: Lyl, her husband, Karin (now separated from Binder) and her daughter Natasha. And Sergio with his wife and small daughter, who is already at four being trained by her grandmother Lyl. AND in Nº 24 lives Argerich in a huge house with several pianos, where she nurses the careers of young pianists; though she goes playing around the world she comes back from time to time. 

            Insonorisation doesn´t seem to be very effective, for Argerich hears Natasha play at one point in the picture, and it´s one of the high spots of it: the 14-year-old is giving her personal interprtetation of the last number, "The Poet speaks", of Schumann´s "Scenes from Childhood", and Martha´s face is eloquent in her appreciation of the girl´s talent.

            Lyl, who plays occasionally, could have had a big career as a concert pianist, but she developed a strong teaching vocation and was the mentor of her children from very early ages as well as many other pianists. In fact, her own parents taught legions of young charges through the decades. Lyl in her youth was already a redoubtable pianist; she played marvelously a Chopin Scherzo in my Pleyel at my earlier abode, five blocks from where I live now.

            As the decades went by, I often heard Antonio de Raco, who could be splendid though variable. And then I started following Karin´s career, who recorded a lovely record when she was thirteen and came often. And then, the revelation of the uncanny facility of her half-brother Sergio Tiempo. Still later, the combination of the two, and also with Lyl in Mozart and Bach. Finally, the astonishing precocity of Natasha, who played as a pro at nine-years-old with the B.A. Philharmonic, and came back two years later. So I wasn´t surprised that now  she plays in an equal high rank with her mother Karin in four-hand and two-piano music.

            But let´s get back to the pìcture. It is a labor of love by Mariano Nante, born in B.A., 1988. He was the director and the co-writer of the script with Sandra de la Fuente, and had as main collaborator the cameraman Juan Aguirre. But "script" in this case should rather be substituted by "planning" and "coordination", as well as "editing", for basically the film shows an extensive range of dialogues between mother and daughter. They are both in love with the piano, as is the whole dynasty and their illustrious friend next door. But, although it ´s plain that Natasha has a strong character and they quarrel a good deal, it very easily transpires to the viewer that they care for each other very much.

            This is a phenomenally gifted family, and Sergio´s daughter is already beginning to play, led by "Babasha" (Lyl); and she wants to do it by herself; her grandmother tries to help and the girl testily tells her not to intrude...

            The film also shows family meetings in which  the jovial nature of Sergio engenders  funny repartees; it´s a good thing that brother and sister have such rapport, not only musically (they are wonderful playing together). There´s a good deal of music in these 87 minutes, and "The Poet speaks" keeps coming back to show different interpretive approaches; they weigh every chord, every silence, and articulate in words why they do it so. It´s not about technique but expression. They scarcely comment about tricky technical moments, it´s all so easy for them...

            With no interval after the movie, two pianos rose from the pit and Karin  and Natasha, in identical red gowns as those they wore in a Brussels concert seen on the film, attacked with marvelous dexterity and perfect style pieces by Milhaud, Fauré, Ravel, Bach-Hess, Bizet, Piazzollla and Brahms. A wonderful half-hour of fine music. And a  special overall experience.

For Buenos Aires Herald

Out-of-the way repertoire from two orchestras and the Promenade Quartet

            The National Symphony (Orquesta Sinfónica Nacional) ended its pre-season series at the Bolsa (Stock Exchange) main hall with an uneven though interesting concert. Not many months ago the same orchestra but with a different chorus had offered that strange Mendelssohn score, "The First Walpurgis Night", on an equally intriguing text by Goethe. Now they played it again but with the Coro Polifónico Nacional  de Ciegos directed by Osvaldo Manzanelli. The conductor was Facundo Agudín, a Swiss-based Argentine.

            Although I wrote about it in that previous occasion, I think it´s worth recapitulating the main facts. The legend tells about a festival of witches and devils on the mountains of the Hartz, on the Brocken, and it is integrated to "Faust" (you also find it in Gounod´s opera), but in this adaptation the Pagan cult of the Druids takes place, and as a way to vanquish the Christian foes they masquerade as demons. The Chorus Nº 6 is an astonishing piece, certainly the wildest ever wrote by the usually restrained Mendelssohn. There are nine numbers and three soloists: a Druid Priest (baritone, the excedllent Alejandro Meerapfel), a Druid and a Christian Guard (tenor Ricardo González Dorrego, very good) and an aged Woman (the experienced contralto Alejandra Malvino).

            I was very impressed by the work of the Coro Polifónico de Ciegos: resonant, full voices, and enthusiastic attack. It was a matter for speculation  their method of learning, considering their condition: I didn´t detect any special way of communication! But I must suppose it exists.  The ability of Manzanelli to impart precise instructions based on sound alone was admirable. Agudín did an intense interpretation that kept the interest alive throughout, and the Orchestra responded fully.

            Juan Carlos Zorzi  was three times Principal Conductor of the National Symphony and of course veteran players and music  lovers fondly remember him. As a composer he had ups and downs, and I´m afraid that "Epopeya" ("Epopee") lands in the second category. It was premièred in 1988 and apparently hasn´t been played since; it lasts 17 minutes and I found it vacuous and rhetorical.

            But Wagner came to the rescue with the magnificent ending of "Die Walküre", in which Wotan says goodbye to Brünnhilde and surrounds her with a wall of fire; left in deep sleep, only a hero will claim her in the future: it will be Siegfried.  Meerapfel did a very creditable job, and so did the conductor, but this is the sort of piece that evokes the highest memories and for me it will always be Hans Hotter with Ferdinand Leitner at the Colón (1960).

            Alas, after this concert there will be no activity of the National Symphony until the auditorium nicknamed "The Whale" will be inaugurated at the transformed Correo (Post Building) on May 25. This is unconscionable and still another proof of the mediocrity with which this important orchestra is handled by the Culture Ministry.

            The Buenos Aires Philharmonic welcomed back the first-rate Polish conductor Antoni Wit for a programme whose import came from the revival of the long-awaited Concerto for orchestra by Witold Lutoslawski, to my mind the most valuable Polish composer of the second half of the Twentieth Century. This three-movement score was premièred in November 1954 after five years of elaboration by the brilliant Witold Rowicki; here, our nonpareil Juan José Castro was again the pioneer when he conducted it with the National Symphony in 1957.

            Three pithy movements conform it: an "Intrada", a flighty "Capriccio notturno" followed by a contrasting and brassy "Arioso", and a lengthy final movement made up of an intricate "Passacaglia", a  forceful "Toccata" and a Chorale that leads to an energetic coda.  Admirably conducted from memory and well followed by an attentive orchestra, it was a fascinating experience.

            However, the First Part didn´t satisfy me. Henryk Gorecki certainly wrote more relevant stuff than his pleasant 9-minute "Three pieces in olden style" for strings, and some acoustic trick provided me with a disagreeable unwritten sizzle. As to Khachaturian´s Violin Concerto, it is a  work with attractive passages followed by vulgar ones; in the hands of David Oistrakh it provided some virtuosic and exciting moments. But Jean-Pierre Rampal had the wrong idea of modifying it as a Flute Concerto, maybe the longest (37 minutes), and it doesn´t jell: the orchestration is very heavy for the flute and the writing is meant for the violin.

            Claudio Barile is the much-appreciated first desk of the B.A.Phil, and of course he is a good player, but on this occasion I found him too flashy and birdlike, and his role isn´t that of a co-conductor as his theatrical gestures seemed to imply. Well accompanied as he was, I kept hearing Oistrakh in my inner ear. As an encore Barile made a demonstration of tin whistle playing.

            The Promenade Quartet played a splendid programme starting the season of the Sofitel Soirées musicales Premium organized by Patricia Pouchulu, President of La Bella Música. The combination of Antonio Formaro (piano), Grace Medina (violin), Claudio Medina (viola) and Pablo Bercellini (cello) was fully up to the requirements of difficult and beautiful music. I was particularly impressed by the pianist and the cellist.

            Frank Bridge´s "Phantasy" is warm Neo-Romantic music, whilst Brahms´ Piano Quartet Nº3 is simply a masterpiece. As to the rarely done Second Piano Quartet by Saint-Saëns, it was a positive surprise in its fluid writing and charming ideas. 

For Buenos Aires Herald 

Moscow, Bremen and Buenos Aires: symphonic cities

            Moscow has always been a true symphonic city, with several orchestras of changing names through the decades. Two of them have left a lasting imprint of their visits to our city: the Philharmonic under Kyril Kondrashin and the State Academic Symphony of Russia led by Evgeny Svetlanov.  I still remember vividly the dazzling performances of Shostakovich´s Sixth Symphony by the former and of Scriabin´s "Poem of Ecstasy" by the latter.

            The special qualities of Russian orchestras came to the fore in those visits: extreme discipline, forthright approach, brilliant quality of sound, demolishing "fortissimi". They are at their best in colorful Romantic music and in tension-laden textures.

            True to this description, the inaugural concert of Nuova Harmonia let us meet again  the State Academic Symphony, now called Evgeny Svetlanov after the demise of the famous conductor. The venue was the Coliseo, whose clinical acoustics permit clear appraisal of the music but exaggerate the glassiness of violins in the high ranges.

            I was sorry that their famous current Principal Conductor Vladimir Jurowski, initially announced, couldn´t come (he´s also the PC of the London Philharmonic, one of the great orchestras that have never come to BA). However,  the replacement was interesting: the Norwegian Terje Mikkelsen is quite unknown here but has had an important career. Disciple of the great Finnish conductor Jorma Panula (a couple of years ago this distinguished old master had been invited by our Philharmonic, but for some reason it didn´t materialize), he was a collaborator of Mariss Jansons in Oslo and Saint Petersburg, and  PC of orchestras in Latvia, Lithuania, the Ukraine and Germany. He was also PC at Shanghai  and has recorded fifty CDs.

            By his appearance he seems fiftyish, and his rubicund face  is complemented by moustache, beard and floating long hair (curiously mirrored by the orchestra´s concertino). His presence meant a pleasant change in the programme. Instead of a Russian well-known piece (Mussorgsky/Rimsky-Korsakov´s "A Night in Bald Mountain") we took contact with a Norwegian composer, Johan Halvorsen, who was the son-in-law of Edvard Grieg. His First Norwegian Rhapsody (1920) may have been a local première (I´m not sure): firmly based on folklore, it is melodic, rhythmic and a bit too noisy. It was stunningly played.

            Dvorák´s Cello Concerto is the most important in history. Alexander Buzlov (debut) is a young (32) and talented Russian. Initially a bit rough, he soon found his form, and with the pliant support of Mikkelsen (some beautiful solo work in the orchestra and flexible phrasing) we heard a well-considered reading of this masterpiece, giving its due both to the virtuoso passages and the dreamy melodies, played with great sensibility.

            Tchaikovsky´s Fourth Symphony fared even better in the two last movements, practically perfect (an incredibly clean pizzicato ensemble in the Third, and enormous buoyancy in the Fourth), but the first two were also very good, the First with high drama and powerful sound, and the Andantino was indeed "in modo d´una canzone". The conductor showed his command throughout, and the orchestra was virtuosic.They sounded really big, though they are only 83-strong.

            The encore was an incredibly fast movement from Tchaikovsky´s "The Sleeping Beauty", a truly joyful end to a fine evening.

            I don´t recall that Bremen has ever sent us a musical embassy. On the evidence of their concert in the First Cycle of the Mozarteum Argentino at the Colón, the Deutsche Kammerphilharmonie Bremen is a first-rate Mozart-size (36) orchestra. A German Chamber Philharmonic, as their denomination states. Bremen is a middle-sized city (about 600.000 inhabitants) with an important cultural life including a Music Festival in Summer. The Orchestra was founded in 1980 and their Artistic Director since 2004 is Paavo Järvi, a Finnish conductor that visited us years ago. But their leader on this occasion was Pekka Kuusisto, also Finnish (as is their concertino Janne Nisonen).  

            They started with a precise and suitably fast version of Mozart´s Overture to "Così fan tutte", with Kuusisto leading from the concertino seat. Then, a worthwhile première, Magnus Lindberg´s Concerto for violin (1958). I am an admirer of the Finnish school of composers with such talents as Rautawaara and Sallinen; I now add Lindberg. The music fluctuates between tonal and atonal, with wispy, mysterious passages followed by almost Expressionistic turbulences. Kuusisto played with magnetic concentration, abetted by an orchestra that faithfully partnered him (helped by the concertino, who sometimes conducted).

            After the interval, a funny thing happened. Incongruously Kuusisto started playing a Finnish folk melody and was joined by the concertino.  They stopped when a latecomer took up his post in the orchestra...

            I wasn´t convinced by Kuusisto in Mozart´s Concerto Nº5, "Turkish". His sound was very white and small, and his abundant cadenzas sounded arbitrary. The Orchestra was good, but you can be a Mozartian soloist with a full sound, witnesses Grumiaux or Szeryng.

            Instead, I liked a lot Kuusisto´s "conducting" from the concertino post of Beethoven´s First Symphony. Rather fast "tempi" (the Andante was Allegretto) but unfailingly exact in every phrasing, and a master of that Beethovenian trademark, the "sforzando", the strong accents that punctuate the phrasing. This First was exciting, a new world opening up.

            The energetic Beethoven Overture to his ballet "The creatures of Prometheus" was the welcome encore, very well played.  The Orchestra imterpreted a different programme for the second cycle; the concerti stayed, but the night was completed with "Prometheus" and Mozart´s 40^th Symphony.

For Buenos Aires Herald 

“Werther”, Goethe seen through Massenet´s sensibility

            "Werther" is a special case in Jules Massenet´s career: his only opera based on a German subject has become the most famous of this very French composer, overpassing "Manon", his greatest success during his life and afterwards up to the Nineteen Sixties. In BA "Manon" reigned. It was offered in 29 seasons against the 13 of the Goethe-based opera (including the current one). But in the last half-century things have changed: 7 times "Werther" and only 4 "Manon". It must be added that we´ve seen many "Werthers"  outside the Colón. 

            Well,  "Werther" is attractive.  As the epistolar novel "The Sorrows of Young Werther" dates from 1774, it is curious that it took more than a century to find the composer who would transform it into an opera (premièred in Vienna -1892- and in German translation, for Massenet didn´t find support in Paris).

            It is a strange thing that this semi-autobiographical account of the desperate love of a young man for Charlotte (promised and then  married to another man) ends with a long-announced suicide, for this is supposed to be the "Mal du siècle" in the Nineteenth-Century, but fact is that in Germany there was a turbulent literary (and briefly musical) movement called "Sturm und Drang" ("Storm and Impulse"), clearly Romantic, represented both by Goethe and Schiller,  and this happened in what are supposed to be Classicist times (Mozart, Haydn).

            The libretto was written by three successive hands: Paul Milliet, Georges Hartmann and Édouard Blau.            Some of it is good, especially in the Third Act, but the opera should have been concentrated on the main characters. The tiring old drunkards Johann and Schmidt are quite out of place. The music reflects Werther´s rising anguish as well as Charlotte´s sadness in her two "airs" ("des lettres", "des larmes"). The contrast is provided by Charlotte´s 15-year-old sister Sophie and by her avuncular father, the Burgomaster, and the six smaller children.

            Why did "Werther" inaugurate this Colón season? It was a replacement for something much more difficult, expensive and important: the première of the complete version of "Les Troyens", the magnum opus by Hector Berlioz (only seen in a condensed version in 1964). It had to be discarded by former Colón Director Pedro Pablo García Caffi due to money problems. I  hope that the new Director, Darío Lopérfido, will take up the challenge and give us that indispensable opera next year.

            But García Caffi chose wrong: not only the Colón didn´t need another "Werther" (the last was as recently as 2007, when the Colón did its season at the Coliseo), but Buenos Aires Lírica had announced last year its own "Werther" for this season. Why not the long-awaited "Thaïs", missing since 1952? Or the première of "Le Cid"? Or the charming "Cendrillon", only done in the inaugural season , 1908?

            As to the double cast: the book of the season announces renowned tenor Ramón Vargas, but he cancelled allegedly because of ill health (the Colón as usual said nothing); so Mickael Spadaccini, of the second cast, passed to the first, and Gustavo López Manzitti was hired for the second. Unfortunately this left Juventus Lyrica without its first cast Andrea Chénier (in such collisions the Colón always wins).

            Other changes: the second cast Sophie, Olena Tokar, was replaced by Oriana Favaro; and Cristian De Marco was added as a second "Bailli" (Burgomaster).

            Spadaccini is a young personable Belgian with an Italian surname. The voice is fresh and beautiful; it sounds very French. He still has to ameliorate certain details of line but he can sing softly or passionately loud and he moves with the agility of his age, following the emotions of his desperate character. As ever, López Manzitti is reliable; the voice is powerful and firm and he acts with intensity; I only missed sheer beauty of timbre and more "piano" singing.

            Anna Caterina Antonacci had sung here almost twenty years ago a wonderful Monteverdi Poppea. Now her Charlotte impressed me as a distinguished singer in decline, especially short in volume, though always tasteful and intelligent. But Clémentine Margaine was a revelation: the best French voice heard here in ages, with impressive volume and a dramatic sense of phrasing similar to Crespin.

            Sophie was perfectly sung by Jaquelina Livieri, with the light timbre and easy phrasing the role needs, and Favaro was quite close to the mark. Albert shouldn´t look as mature as Hernán Iturralde, nor be sung with little involvement. The young Turkish baritone Sertkaya made a brilliant debut; the drama is intensified if the husband is young (Goethe specifies 25) and personable, and the voice is full and resonant.

            Alexander Vassiliev (debut) was a convincing Bailli, and so was De Marco. Fernando Grassi (Johann) and Santiago Burgi and Iván Maier (Schmidt) did reasonably well their thankless parts. The six kids of the Children´s Choir were splendid both singing and uninhibitedly acting.                      

            The Orchestra was in the experienced hands of Ira Levin, and the results were quite good, contrasting turbulence and subtlety.

            Hugo de Ana did everything stagewise: production, stage, costumes and lighting, plus abundant projections. I admire his skills but not his ideas. He transposes the action to Massenet´s time, clutters the proceedings with forced metaphores (the letters strewn all over the place, the cemetery) and does  a unit set that gives no ambience suggesting intimate spaces in Wetzlar. At least he marked well the dramatic instances. 

For Buenos Aires Herald 

Bach and Händel, the Baroque in its fullness

            The Mozarteum Argentino has begun its season at the Colón with the triumphant visit of the Bachakademie Stuttgart.  They are old friends of our city, for they came under Helmuth Rilling no less than three times, and are recognised as being among the best Baroque specialists in the world, even if they aren´t completely historicist.

            They are made up of two sterling ensembles: the Gächinger Kantorei, stunning choir that takes its name from a small city near Stuttgart, and the Bach-Collegium, a crack group of players. Only three years ago, the almost octogenarian Rilling took leave of our public with Bach´s enormous Mass in B minor. Now they came with the same marvelous score and with Hans-Christoph Rademann (debut here) as the successor of the aged wise man that did the feat of recording the totality of the extant Bach sacred cantatas. And for the second cycle they gave their interpretation of Händel´s "Messiah".

            I am of two minds about their choice of the most famous mass and oratorio of Baroque times. On the one hand, obviously to have them done by such splendid groups is quite attractive. But on the other, they could have been splendid in materials that are less often done, though well-known.  And I don´t forget that Festivales Musicales´ swan song last year was Bach´s Mass under Mario Videla, a disciple of Rilling and our foremost Bachian.

            In successive visits a change came over Rilling in matters of Bachian speeds: at each visit his timings were shorter: the older expansive Bach (not Romantic, mind you, but ampler in breadth) became faster and more clipped. Rademann has now taken that trend a step further, doing some of the pieces as fast as they can possibly go. It is undoubtedly exciting, and the articulation of the choir is amazing, but there´s also a more objective feeling, less emotionally communicative.

            Curiously, I have marginally preferred his Händel to his Bach. But perhaps the general impression has also to do with what I felt about the vocal soloists: two of them were a good deal better in Händel. And there´s another factor: Rademann misjudged the acoustics for Bach when he put his soloists close to the Choir; in Händel he gave them their proper place upfront.

            The economics of this sort of tour almost always determine that the soloists are often not quite the best part of it. In this case I would grade their merit thus: first the tenor Sebastian Kohlhepp, who showed a fine line and beautiful tone in the "Benedictus" of the Mass (abetted by the admirable flutist Catarina Laske-Trier), and he sang his "Messiah" arias nicely. Then, soprano Johanna Winkel, who seemed slightly under wraps in Bach, sang beautifully in Händel, with luminous timbre.

            Third, bass-baritone Markus Eiche has an important voice but has trouble in controlling the vocal lines in Bach: the singer was too gruff in the "Quoniam".  In Händel he found his best form only in his last aria, where he was accompanied with stunning effect by the trumpet player.

            I was disappointed by the Norwegian mezzosoprano Ann Beth Solvang, whose gray and low-volume singing wasn´t up to par for such intensely emotional arias as the Agnus Dei of the Mass or "He was despised" in "Messiah". Comparisons are odious, but I kept remembering Marga Höffgen or Janet Baker. All the soloists made their local debut.

            Maestro Rademann showed knowledge and aplomb, even if he was at times too fast or missed the hushed drama of the "Crucifixus". I was surprised by his approach to that evergreen, the "Hallelujah"from "Messiah": it´s the first time that I have heard the beginning sung and played "pianissimo"; then, in gradually heightened terraces, he got to the splendor of the last minutes, crowned by the trumpets and timpani. Also, I especially liked the final Amen. And in Bach, the astonishing clarity of the fugal entries with his nonpareil choir, 31-strong. The Bach-Collegium is fine in all categories, and I only cavil at the rather lame solo of the concertino in the Mass.

            And now, I go on to the first of the  Academia Bach programme for this year, played and sung at their usual home, the Iglesia Metodista Central with its ideal acoustics. I am so very glad that the Academia has survived the demise of its "mother", Festivales Musicales. Now they are independent, and I wish them the best of luck: they are necessary, and this starting concert showed the Academy in fine shape.

            The music was all by Johann Sebastian. The lovely Concerto for oboe d´amore (a third lower than the oboe) is reconstructed from a Harpsichord Concerto and was played with great skill by Andrés Spiller. Then, the great motet (19 minutes) "Jesu, meine Freude", sung by the Grupo de Canto Coral under Néstor Andrenacci, with instrumental support; the choir did an excellent job.

            Finally, yet another Videla première, J.S.B.´s Cantata Nº 47, with an enormous and fantastic opening Chorus, an equally enormous soprano aria very cleanly sung by soprano Soledad de la Rosa with the obbligato violin of Oleg Pishenin , fine work from baritone Alejandro Meerapfel in a recitative and aria, and a final Chorale. The whole was done with fine technique and impulse by the choir and the Soloists of the Bach Academy, led with predictable enthusiasm and accuracy by Mario Videla.

For Buenos Aires Herald

“Andrea Chénier”, a “Verismo” view of the French Revolution

 

            The French Revolution hasn´t fared well operatically. There are surely more, but the only operas that seem to have stayed in the repertoire are Umberto Giordano´s "Andrea Chénier" and Francis Poulenc´s "Dialogues de Carmélites". I saw in Vienna what would be a worthwhile piece to première in B.A., Gottfried Von Einem´s "Dantons Tod" ("Danton´s Death"); there´s a good recording of this score; and I have an interesting Massenet one-acter, "Thérèse".  I haven´t heard Mascagni´s "Il Piccolo Marat", but the author conducted it at the Colón in 1922.

            The neglect  is curious, considering that it was a fascinating time. Luigi Illica, famous Puccini librettist, wrote the story in the then trendy "verismo" style, which implies strong doses of rhetorics and exaggeration. "Andrea Chénier"  dates from 1896 and it was Giordano´s only lasting success. In fact, the Colón has offered it in fifteen seasons.

            Many will remember the last time it was presented; the year was 1996, there were good singers (Ben Heppner, Stefka Evstatieva, Anthony Michaels-Moore) and a brilliant production:  Joël, Frigerio and Squarciapino. So 19 years have elapsed, and the alternative companies haven´t taken it up until this season, when Ana D´Anna and Antonio Russo decided to start the Juventus Lyrica season with it. It was high time to meet "Chénier" again.

            The only other Giordano opera seen here after WWII was "Fedora", revived in 1998 with a starry cast: Domingo, Freni, Milnes. But in the Twenties "verismo" was still much appreciated, and our city saw the premières of other Giordano operas: "La cena delle beffe", "Siberia", "Il Re" and "Madame Sans-Gêne".

            Now "verismo" is much less presented all over the world, except some of Puccini´s operas  ("Tosca", of course; "Il Tabarro") and that immortal couple, "Cav-Pag" (Mascagni´s "Cavalleria Rusticana"  and Leoncavallo´s "I Pagliacci"), which will be seen this year at the Colón. Taste has changed, and crudeness is frowned upon. But I think that, once you accept the aesthetics, there´s a lot to enjoy in some of those now forgotten operas. 

            André Chénier was a distinguished poet of French Revolutionary times. He lived between 1762 and 1794. Says Richard Parker in Collier´s Encyclopedia: he was "considered a forerunner of Romanticism" in his poems, especially the "Iambics" written in prison. He deplored "the excesses of the Revolution and published courageous articles against the Jacobins and in favor of constitutional government". He was guillotined just three days before the Thermidorean reaction which could have saved him (Robespierre died three days after him!).

            In Illica´s libretto Chénier attacks the aristocracy in the First Act, is hunted by a spy of the Jacobins in the Second, tried and condemned to death in the Third, and in the Fourth accepting his fate with his love, Maddalena de Coigny, in a glorification of Eros and Thanatos.  The libretto is disjointed, with too many episodes and interruptions, and although Giordano´s music fits the words like a glove, one feels the need for greater continuity.  Apart from the admirable orchestration, one remembers the two Chénier arias, Gérard´s "Nemico della Patria" and Maddalena´s "La mamma morta".

            Two characters are of special interest: Gérard, the servant who becomes a Revolutionary, is in love with Maddalena but tries to save Chénier; and "L´Incroyable", the spy, as sly and wily as can be. The protagonists are straightforward, with no special traits. The Jacobins are gory, the Abbé, Fléville and the Countess of Coigny are symbols of the aristocracy, Bersi is the faithful helper of Maddalena, Roucher tries to help Chénier and the old Madelon offers her boy to the Army.

            I was sorry that Gustavo López Manzitti was taken up by commitments at the Colón ("Werther") but Darío Sayegh (of the second cast) proved to be able to handle a high and expansive part: the voice is strong, though not always beautiful, and he uses it firmly. Sabrina Cirera did her best job to date: her vibrato under control, she gave emotion and true style to her Madddalena. Pol González went over the top several times as Gérard, but he communicated; he has a powerful voice, though uncontrolled in several moments.

            I dislike the idea of singers taking several roles, especially in the case of Felipe Cudina Begovic, whose lanky figure was seen as Fléville (First Act), Roucher (Second) and Dumas (Third), confusing the audience. Less in evidence was the double presencxe of Milagros Seijó as the Countess of Coigny and Madelon, or Norberto Lara (the Abbé then becomes the Incroyable). Walter Aón also did three parts. That apart, Seijó and Lara were good. And Verónica Canaves as Bersi (her sole part) was fetching and sang nicely.

            The introduction of three young female dancers in the First Act with a traditional choreography by Igor Gopkalo was agreeable, though they used no points in the late XVIIIth Century.

            Kudos to Antonio Russo, splendid conductor of a very professional orchestra and an enthusiastic choir. At 80, he remains spry and vital, with the wiseness of well-acquired experience.

            Ana D´Anna´s production and costumes were in the spirit of those times; it was close to her best work. Attention to detail, well-oiled entrances, true sense of a team. The problem was the unit set of Gonzalo Córdova, with too many stairs (especially for the Palace), though it did provide hiding places for the Spy.

            All in all, an enjoyable "Chénier".

For Buenos Aires Herald

A musical trip from Bach to Mendelssohn

             On these last  twelve days I traveled musically from Johann Sebastian Bach to his great discoverer, Felix Mendelssohn.

            I started with Bach´s "St.John Passion", shorter (two hours) and more dramatic than the monumental "St Matthew". An old friend since the days I had the revelation provided by the interpretations of Fritz Lehmann (1954), Günther Ramin (the Thomaskantor of Leipzig) in 1955, and Karl Richter in 1964, I am always deeply moved by it. It´s not only due to its fantastic structure and variety, but also to the tragic sense of some arias and the savage brio of the "turbae", the brief choral interjections of the people against Jesus.

            Back in 1992, when I was Director General of La Plata´s Teatro Argentino, I programmed with Maestro Antonio Russo Bach´s Easter Oratorio plus a cantata during Holy Week and we had huge success at the Cathedrals of both La Plata and San Isidro. I´m glad that the Argentino´s current team saw fit to offer the St. John Passion twice in this special time at the big Opera House and for free.

            True, neither the Argentino´s Orchestra nor their Choir are historicist, as it is now trendy concerning Bach, but they managed to have a continuo section with theorbo, harpsichord, positive organ (a small chamber organ), bassoon, cello and viola da gamba. Of course, the orchestral strings had modern instruments and bows. The orchestration also has flutes and oboes. No trumpets, horns or timpani. The two violas d´amore of the Arioso Nº 31 and the Aria Nº32 were replaced by mellifluous violins. In several choruses the oboe d´amore was probably replaced by English horn (it has no solos). The aria Nº 58 had the proper obbligato of viola da gamba. In Nos. 62 and 63 the oboes da caccia were (also probably) replaced by English horns.

            As to the vocal soloists, I dislike the option of a countertenor for the contralto arias. If you are going to be historicist, you should use a boy contralto, but truth to tell, they are very rarely  able to convey the tragic content of the arias, so the best thing is to have a good adult contralto.

            The conductor was Diego Sánchez Haase, a Paraguayan who studied Bach with the eminent Helmuth Rilling. He gave me a rather mixed impression. On the one hand he gave evidence of knowing the score thoroughly; on the other his speeds were overfast in some arias (especially the tenor´s) and in the initial chorus,  the textures were heavy and opressive in those crucial starting minutes. But other things were right: the brio and tension of the "turbae", the easy flow of the chorales (no longer impeded by full rests at the end of phrases), the correct speeds in some other arias.

            I left implied above that for this orchestra Bach´s style isn´t easy, but they gradually grew better. The same was true of the Choir prepared by Hernán Sánchez Arteaga. Both organisms eventually arrived at a reasonable level of empathy with this great music.

            By far the best soloist was the bass-baritone Alejandro Meerapfel, who with authority, fine timbre and diction assumed the part of Jesus and sang the bass arias with admirable control and expression. Carlos Ullán managed to solve his two very difficult tenor arias with precision, although pressed by the conductor´s unreasonable speeds. Soledad de la Rosa was in a detached mood but sang cleanly. Unfortunately countertenor Pehuén Díaz Bruno was unacceptable, with little projection and many mistakes. Walter Schwarz was sonorous and true as Peter and Pilatus.

            A final paragraph on the Evangelist´s particular difficulties. He sings almost throughout in recitative telling the story or giving the cue to dialogues with Jesus, except two expressive moments on the words "geisselte" ("lashed") and "weinete" ("cried"), where he has to cope with long, intense phrases on one vowel. The writing is for high tenor and the voice must be imbued with the Passion´s tragic happenings; in the timbre a degree of whiteness is perfectly appropriate. Hugo Ponce, whose voice is thin but well projected and whose German was quite intelligible and meaningful, solved the part after some initial problems, showing command of the task.

            The Usina del Arte sometimes provides impromptu pleasures. Out of the blue came the Argentine debut of the Berliner Camerata, a distinguished cosmopolitan 11-member string ensemble led by the energetic Olga Pak. I wonder if there´s a true Berliner in the lot; some surnames: Shigabutdinova, San Quirico, Yáñez, Woo. The venue was the Chamber Hall, of warm acoustics. And it was free.

            They brought along the debut of a brilliant young pianist, Joseph Maurice-Weder, who played immaculately Mozart´s Concerto Nº 12 and Chopin´s Nº2, both in arrangements for piano and strings; rather indifferent in the first case, but negative in the second, written for full orchestra.  The pianist showed delicacy, impeccable taste and an admirable technique. The strings accompanied well.

            The concert had started with Mozart´s hit, the Serenade Nº 15, "A little Night Music", with  fast tempi and efficacious playing rather than inspired. But I was bowled over by Pak´s playing in that adolescent jewel, Mendelssohn´s Concerto for violin and strings, where she was abetted by  committed playing from her companions. It was Mendelssohn who resurrected Bach´s "St Matthew Passion", and so there´s a connection between the 15-year-old who knew his counterpoint and the greatest contrapunctic composer.

For Buenos Aires Herald 

From St. Isidore´s way: worthy concerts

            Last week I informed our readers about a series of concerts called "El Camino del Santo" ("The Saint´s way"). As you may remember, it´s a programming  that goes from Wednesday to Sunday during Holy Week.  I attended three sessions and they were quite interesting.  Why St. Isidore? Because they all happened in San Isidro, whose Municipality is the main sponsor.

            The Colegio San Juan el Precursor stands alongside the Cathedral; you pass through a splendid courtyard with beautiful Spanish-style majolicas, and you arrive to a capacious hall (I´d say about 400 people) of good acoustics. Although Autumn had begun, the temperature was high and so some air conditioning was required; the wheeze was bothersome but necessary. The Colegio was the venue for two excellent concerts, and their hall was chock-full, which shows that "El Camino del Santo" is here to stay. Significant, considering that the music was valuable but not often played.

            Olivier Messiaen´s "Quartet for the end of times" is an impresive 43-minute 8-movement score for an unlikely but fascinating combination: violin, clarinet, cello and piano. Unfortunately, the rather conventional presentation (without microphone) by Martín Wullich and José Luis Juri didn´t mention an important point: the unusual instrumentation comes from the fact that the score was written when Messiaen was war prisoner of the Nazis in a rather lenient Silesian stalag where concerts were permitted, and among the people congregated there were three good players of the mentioned instruments to complement Messiaen, who was the pianist.

            The score is the only chamber music composed by Messiaen and you find in it at the highest level all his trademarks: Christian mysticism (it is based on the Apocalypse), bird song, exotic harmony, great sense of color, complicated rhythms and attractive melody. I met this music when it was premièred in BA back in 1953 (Mariano Frogioni and the Trío Ars)  and I have loved it ever since. The players this time around were first-rate:  Juri (piano), Rafael Gintoli (violin), Stanimir Todorov (cello) and particularly striking, Mariano Rey (clarinet), gave a splendid interpretation; my only cavil is that I would have liked a slower tempo in the two "Louanges" (praises).

            The varied programme on the following day (Friday) was quite attractive (though Sacred music would have been more apposite).  There were, yes, unwelcome photographers.  It started with the strong, dramatic Cello Sonata by Edvard Grieg, played with fortitude and accuracy by José Alberto Araujo and Fernanda Morello (the turbulent end of the first movement elicited out-of.place applause).  After the interval, the bitterersweet, succinct Sonata for flute and piano by Poulenc was played with taste and cleanness by Jorge de la Vega (first desk of the Colón Orchestra for the last 32 years) and Morello, a very flexible and professional artist.

            There were changes in the programme: Piazzolla´s "Oblivion" was, in fact, forgotten...And four Poulenc songs were regrettably replaced by Ravel´s Vocalise (the original of his "Pièce en forme d´habanera"), for the refinement of mezzosoprano Virginia Correa Dupuy would have been most welcome in that exquisite repertoire of "chanson d´art".  Morello accompanied her both in the Ravel Vocalise and in the beautiful and rarely encountered Vocalise-Etude by Messiaen.

            I greatly admire the "Chansons Madécasses" (from Madagascar) by Ravel, with its imaginative accompaniment by piano, flute (and piccolo) and cello, and its idiomatic setting of the poems by Parny. However, their content is clearly male, and although I have heard them from no less than Jessye Norman, I definitely prefer them sung by a baritone. This said, I acknowledge that Correa Dupuy sang them with refinement in the outer songs and strong drama in the middle one ("Aoua! Don´t trust the white people"), as well as displaying perfect French . She was in very good voice.

            I recently read that Bruno Gelber has just come back from a long European tour in which he played no less than Rachmaninov´s Third Concerto. Considering that in recent years he has shown himself afflicted by bodily troubles and that he is 72 after being in front of the public for over sixty years, and also that the concerts I heard from him in 2013 and 2014 showed a certain degree of decline, I went to the closing concert of El Camino del Santo with some trepidation, but also hope for a recovery. I have followed his career decade after decade and during his best years he had no peer in our midst as a Beethoven-Brahms pianist.

            The venue was debatable: the Tatterhall of the San Isidro Hippodrome is easily accessible if someone brings you there, but pretty difficult if you have to park.  The hall is big and that´s probably why the organisers chose it. But an unmusical decision drove me mad and partially ruined my pleasure: the piano was wired to loudspeakers, and the sound came from the latter, altering the natural quality of the piano, especially in the bass range, which sounded mushy and exaggerated.

            However, Gelber played a difficult though familiar programme (quite similar to those he did of yore) with a technique that is still amazing -some smudges apart- and according to the style of the composer: strong and firm in Beethoven (Sonatas Nos. 3 and 15),  forcefulness contrasted with delicacy in Schumann (his marvelous "Carnaval") and fleet in Chopin´s virtuosic "Andante spianato and Grand Polonaise". Some chunkiness intrudes, but Gelber is still himself.

For Buenos Aires Herald