Works of the Heart

Accepting the “Musician of the Year Award” from Musical America in December 2009, renowned conductor Riccardo Muti facetiously questioned the role and function of his profession. While the audience repeatedly erupted with laughter, the droll Maestro demonstrated how he could teach someone with no musical background to conduct Schubert’s “Unfinished Symphony”. (“Fortunately, it is only two movements…”) The mood suddenly shifted as Muti became reflective and contradicted himself. Describing the difficulty of conducting: “Not to beat time, but to get from the souls of the musicians, the music, the feelings - the feelings….not the notes. The notes are the concrete expressions of the feelings.” The difficulty he stated was in bringing the composer’s intent from the conductor to the musicians and through them to the audience, which is “too long a way”. Muti described his musical journey as being “in the middle of the road” and he was certain he “will never get to the other part of the river”. The reason, Muti stated, is that “behind the notes lies the infinite…that means God...and we are too small in front of God”.

Though only an amateur choral singer, I must respectively differ with the great Maestro for two reasons. First of all, his assessment of himself being “in the middle of the road” as a conductor is hard to believe. Within a two or three week period, I have seen Muti and then another conductor perform the same work with the same orchestra and the same singers. The only common denominator for me in both performances was my dislike of the set and costumes. What Muti and his musicians brought to the audience was a totally different, mesmerizing experience.

Secondly, I have been blessed a few times to be a part of choral work that may not have been perfect, note-for-note, but created an emotional connection difficult to put into words. When this type of connection happens, which is not often, it is unforgettable. In the late spring of 2002, I took part in a memorial concert for a choir mate and for all who died on September 11, 2001.  John Rutter’s exquisite "Requiem" was our focal point and we first learned the sixth movement, “The Lord is my Shepherd”.  Six months after that horrific day and a few months before our concert, we sang this piece at Mass and sensed a total and attentive stillness in the church. Through Rutter’s music, the choir gave of ourselves to the congregation and could sense that emotion being returned to us.

Although our concert also consisted of several smaller works, “Requiem” seeped into our pores as we rehearsed. While tragedy brought us to the piece, we could use Rutter's glorious music as a response to the madness. Our Music Director, Anne Holland, an accomplished composer, singer, and recording artist, gave us the clarity we needed to try and find the expressive reverence of the work. For me, there was also the sorrow of a friend losing a battle with cancer, mingled with the continuous joy of an infant nephew, seven months old by the time of our concert. Rehearsing with my nephew cradled in one arm and the “Requiem” score on the other, I was amused to see signs of a future music critic in the attentive reactions of the baby to the varying themes of the movements.

Despite a torrential downpour the night of the concert, we were gratified by the turnout and the response and felt as though we had been a part of something special. After the concert, I purchased my “Requiem” score from the church as I could not bear to part with it. That score contained the notes I jotted down from Anne’s inspired words, and my coffee stains from morning rehearsals. But most of all, the pages of that score were also filled with the faces of those who were lost; the memories of our rehearsals, and of the pleasure in gazing at my beautiful little nephew as I sang.

Another treasured experience was with my previous choir and Music Director, Laurence Rosania; as dynamic a conductor as I shall ever work with. The Saturday before Easter Week was a chilly but sunny March and we rehearsed in a circle in the small chapel off the main altar. Laurence stressed the magnitude of the works we were rehearsing and reminded us that much of what we sang Easter Week would also be heard in the great cathedrals of Europe. A new piece for us as a choir that year was William Byrd’s “Ave Verum Corpus” and, under Laurence’s firm guidance, we labored to weave the voices of the four sections together and do justice to Byrd’s genius. That Saturday, as the soft mid-afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows and was reflected around the walls of the Chapel, we finally felt a real unity in our harmonies. After the last notes faded away, we all gazed around our circle, knowing we came closer to the heart of the piece than we had ever been.

One of our Cantors at the time was Joe Simmons, who remembered that day in recent conversation. A highlight of working with Laurence and Joe is hearing the combined warmth and richness of Joe’s baritone and Laurence’s tenor. It is a pleasure that never grows old for me and happily, a concert last month presented another opportunity. While Laurence is currently Director of Music and Joe, Principal Cantor at the Church of St. John the Baptist in Manhattan, they each have active outside musical careers. A leading liturgical composer conductor and performer,  Laurence also produced Joe's first solo CD for his label, Oculus Music. (Joe’s rendition of “How Can I Keep From Singing” on his first CD, Singing Out is one I have a special affection for because it also features the vocals of Laurence and Anne Holland.) Joe regularly gives concerts and workshops across the country for cantors and choirs and is currently featured on The Sunday Mass, televised nationally on ABC.

The backdrop for Laurence and Joe’s recent concert was the recently-restored historic Church of St. Francis Xavier and guest artists included the Xavier Choir.  Selections from both of Joe’s solo CDs were highlighted, as well as a preview of Laurence’s upcoming solo release, Works of the Heart.  (Hopefully, I will have Laurence’s indulgence in using his title as inspiration for this posting.) The audience was made to feel like special guests by these two consummate professionals and artists. For many of us who had sung under Laurence’s direction and worked with Joe, the evening was, in part, a musical reunion. And, accompanied by Laurence’s brilliant keyboards, Joe’s graceful commentary and vocals spoke of the human connection that music creates. Joe movingly described the joy of being able to reach his mother through music after Alzheimer’s Disease had sadly engulfed her.  What remained with his mother was the music of her past; a gift that could still be shared in the present by mother and son. 

Riccardo Muti was correct in stating that we are “too small in front of God”. And, perhaps we might not “get to the other side of the river”. But, there are still times that the imprint upon the heart and soul created by music brings us much closer to it.  

February 24th: Vintage Couture and Décor to Support New York City Opera!

                     

If you are looking for couture fashion on a budget, you will want to make some time tomorrow for a special event at The New York City Opera Thrift Shop. Proclaimed by Vogue as “the highest quality thrift shop in New York City”.  The City Opera Thrift Shop is hosting their bi-annual Spring Vintage – A Vintage Affair on Thursday, February 24 from 4:00 - 8:00 PM.  Admission is free to search for incredible values on couture designers, including Christian Dior, Yves Saint Laurent, Missoni, Bill Blass, Karl Lagerfeld, Emilio Pucci, Mila Schon and more. Also featured are “vintage and vintage-inspired” art, home accessories and other items.

Located at 222 East 23rd Street between 2^nd and 3^rd Avenues, the New York City Opera Thrift Shop was opened over 25 years ago as another means to raise funds in support of the Costume Department of the New York City Opera.  Their annual events are regularly featured in Vanity Fair, The New York Times, and New York Magazine.

For subway riders, the closest lines are the 4 and the 6 to 23^rd and Lexington and the N and the R to 23^rd and Broadway.

If you can’t get to the Thrift Shop tomorrow, stop by during their regular business hours:

Monday – Friday:  10 AM – 7 PM, Saturday:  10 AM – 6 PM, Sunday:  Noon – 5 PM

And, more events are coming:

Divas at Home – Thursday, March 31^st

The Cooking Event – April 21^st

The 6^th Annual Divas Shop for Opera - Tuesday, May 17th

The Black and White Event – Thursday, June 16^th

 The City Opera Thrift Shop makes it easy for those wishing to donate, with free pick up at your home for large items and taxi reimbursement for bringing smaller items to their store. Nik Ruckert, their Donation Coordinator will answer all questions between 10:00 am - 6:00 pm, Monday - Friday at (212) 684-5344.  And, of course, donations are tax-deductible.

Here are full details on all events and on the donation policy:

http://www.nycopera.com/aboutus/thriftshop/thriftshopevents.aspx

Happy Shopping!

There is a new Prince Siegfried and Swan Queen in town…

Approaching Lincoln Center for New York City Ballet’s matinee on Sunday, I was asked three times if I had an extra ticket. There were also a number of people standing out in the cold holding up signs: “Need ONE ticket”.   My ticket was an early birthday present and the only way someone was taking it from me would be to rip my shoulder bag from my firm grip and run like an Olympic sprinter.  Robert Fairchild and Sterling Hyltin were making their debuts in Swan Lake and I was obviously not alone in having high expectations.   Although my first live Swan Lake was Mikhail Baryshnikov and Natalia Makarova in 1981, it is still a thrill to see a talented young partnership take on these roles. 

Artistic Director Peter Martins chose Fairchild and Hyltin to open his new production of Romeo & Juliet in 2007, and, after seeing them, the casting was no surprise.  Although only 19 and 21 at the time, the responsiveness and sensitivity that imbued their performances matched their prodigious technical skills.  One of my favorite moments of this partnership came in 2009 with Balanchine’s Stravinsky Violin Concerto, as powerful, fine detailing left their own imprints on the complex second movement of this landmark work.  

Robert Fairchild and Sterling Hyltin, Romeo and Juliet, Photo by Paul Kolnik for New York City Ballet



It was the detailing of Fairchild’s and Hyltin’s characters in Swan Lake that touched me the most.  Still early in their careers, these two artists have already learned how to make the smallest of gestures read up to the Fourth Ring and Fifth Ring of the theatre.

Accustomed to the energy and focus of Fairchild’s performances, his melancholic and distracted Prince Siegfried in Act 1 was startling to me.  For a moment, I wondered what was wrong, until I remembered that he was acting.   Although it was his 21st birthday celebration, Siegfried was distant from everyone and nothing seemed to please him; especially his mother’s admonition that it was time for him to take a bride.  Fairchild glanced down at his left ring finger as if it was the last thing he wanted.

When he encounters Hyltin as Odette in the second scene of Act I, a current runs through Siegfried as he realizes what he has been searching for.   Seeing her fear and vulnerability; he treads carefully.  As he begins to win her trust, Hyltin’s Odette gently extends her hand to Siegfried.  Slowly, tentatively, Fairchild slips his hand under hers and gazes in awe, as if Odette’s hand was a wax blossom that would dissolve at his touch. Siegfried slowly gains Odette’s confidence, touch by touch, movement by movement until their dancing literally bursts with the joy of their discovery.

In the ballroom scene (the “Black Swan”) Hyltin’s Odile shows us a much less obvious characterization, which makes more dramatic sense to me.  Most Odiles react quite coldly to Siegfried and tease him unmercifully, while I wonder how he could be so totally taken in. Although he at first can hardly believe Odette is truly there, Hyltin shows Fairchild’s Siegfried just enough of a contrasting softness to Odile’s true nature that he is taken in by the sorcery.  A fine technician as well as an actress, Hyltin tosses off the famed fouettes with ease.  Their pas de deux is exultant; Odile, with the success of the plan and Siegfried, believing that he can present the bride of his choice to his mother, the Queen.

Upon fully realizing he has been cruelly deceived, Fairchild is shattered; momentarily collapsing at the feet of his mother, before regaining his footing and racing out of the palace to find Odette.

In the final lakeside scene, Hyltin movingly conveys Odette’s reaction to her betrayal; repeatedly drooping to the ground as if she would evaporate in grief before our eyes.   While Siegfried persuades Odette that he does he does truly love her and swears his love once more, Hyltin’s Odette knows it is too late.  Still hoping against hope, Fairchild shows us a heart being torn to pieces as the swans surround and lead Hyltin away.  Although the sorcerer Von Rotbart’s power has been broken, Siegfried’s mistaken betrayal means Odette must remain a swan.  Alone at the end, Fairchild helplessly sinks to the floor on bended knee.

While understanding that this Swan Lake was created as an alternative to the lavish versions normally presented, I still have definite misgivings about the production and design values.  However, I’d rather give the focus to the dancers, as it was a solid cast that surrounded Fairchild and Hyltin.  Although it is strange to find the Jester such a major character in this version, you can’t ask for more than the speed, powerful rotations, elevation and wit of Daniel Ulbricht.  The challenging pas de quatre in Act II’s ballroom scene is a highlight of this production and Megan Fairchild (sister of Robert), Tiler Peck, Abi Stafford and Joaquin de Luz were elegant and dazzling.  Although I was anxious to see Fairchild’s and Hyltin’s “Black Swan” pas de deux, these four were a special delight and I could have watched them all over again. 

In a 2007 interview before the premiere of Romeo and Juliet, Hyltin spoke of the intensity she and Fairchild share in bringing their characters to life and wondered if that emotion could be felt by their audiences.  I hope she has since learned that the answer to her question is a resounding “Yes”!



The Tosca that almost was…

If you were south of Lincoln Center very early Monday morning and heard a sharp intake of  air, followed by a half-scream of surprise, you might have caught my spontaneous response to Milan-based blogger Opera Chic’s report of a casting change for the first Tosca of the La Scala season.  Due to the illness of the soprano opening the run, Jonas Kaufmann’s Cavaradossi was to be partnered by the Tosca of Sondra Radvanovsky; originally scheduled to perform the role later in the month.  The only Mario Cavaradossi whose “E lucevan le stelle” brought tears to my eyes, singing with the Floria Tosca who recently gave Metropolitan Opera audiences the most heart-wrenching “Vissi d’arte I’ve heard in decades of live Met performances.  And, I couldn’t be in Milan to see it!

I must have been distracted by a trip to South Africa I was taking in early 2006, because I somehow missed Kaufmann’s only previous Met performances.  There are Kaufmann CDs and DVDs  but hearing him live for the first time, as the artist and rebel Cavaradossi, was an incredible thrill.  Kaufmann’s ringing “Vittoria!, Vittoria!” was remarkable not only for the height and volume, but for the acting.  As the tortured and bleeding Cavaradossi, he slowly and painfully pulls himself off the ground to stand upright and sing the cry against tyranny. As Cavaradossi later faces death, Kaufmann starts “E lucevan le stelle” in a reflective mood, building up from piano and mezzo piano in a way I found totally unique.  His voice paints a verbal slideshow of his love for Tosca and for life that unfolded like a film in my mind. Even the immortal Domingo had not made the tears fall as Kaufmann did in this aria or in “O, dolci mani” that follows. In reviewing Kaufmann’s Don Jose in the later Carmen, Mike Silverman of the Associated Press stated; “….Kaufmann gave voice to his conflicting emotions in singing that moved seamlessly between soft, pleading phrases of unearthly beauty and powerful outbursts of passion.”  While now on my list of “Things I Wish I Had Written”, this could be used to describe each of Kaufmann’s four Cavaradossis and two Don Joses.

I also wish his New York peformances had been filmed, but here is Kaufmann"s “E lucevan le stelle” last summer when the Met brought the production to the Munich Opera Festival (although for some reason, the clip cuts off before orchestra concludes the aria) 

Radvanovsky’s magnetic performances in Il Trovatore and Stiffelio left me confident that her Met role debut in Tosca would be very special, even before I heard her moving "Vissi d’arte” in concert last year. But, she would be the first to tell you that a dramatic aria in the context of a live performance is very different. Just as it had before Kaufmann’s first Cavaradossi, the air in the Met was crackling with anticipation and expectation on January 10^th. What first struck me  was to see a Tosca who could be the diva, yet girlish and playful with her lover, Cavaradossi  - as I always thought she should be!  Yes, the professional Tosca is the diva, but Radvanovsky showed us the Floria that is also young and in love.  On the final “Signore” of her "Vissi d’arte" – “perche, perche, Signore” (“why, why, Lord”), I was undone, and will never forget that or the sustained and thunderous roar that swept the Met when she finished. And, upon finding Marchesa Attavanti’s fan after Scarpia is dead, Radvanovsky makes it clear she now understands how she was deceived and drops the fan in utter devastation.

Final Dress Rehearsal – January 7, 2010 - Sondra Radvanovsky in Tosca at the Metropolitan Opera 

After the recent Singer’s Studio presentation by Opera News, I had a few moments to compliment Radvanovsky on her performance in Tosca.  When I also mentioned how I wish she was starring in Faust for Kaufmann’s then rumored, now confirmed Met role debut next season, Radvanovsky replied how much she would love to work with him someday and pointed to a man standing nearby.  “He’s my agent”, she said. “Speak to him. Tell him to make it happen!” So, I did.  After hearing about the initial casting change, I ruefully thought my request should have been more specific.  No, I didn’t want this pairing to be the result of another singer’s illness, and I meant for it to happen here, in New York, at the Met! On this Valentine’s Day, my heart was full of envy for any February 15^th La Scala ticket holder.

A later report from Opera Chic then came with the news that the virus sweeping La Scala had claimed both Kaufmann and the Cavaradossi scheduled in the later cast with Radvanovsky, as well as the baritone in the role of Sciarrone, one of Baron Scarpia’s officers. 

Having seen the mighty Bryn Terfel’s masterful Scarpia in New York last April, I will be very curious to read reports of the two nights he is scheduled with Radvanovsky at La Scala. Most Scarpias I’ve seen were either cold aristocrats or just outright bullies.  Terfel’s sinuous Baron was fascinating for its more layered approach. Although she is in love with Cavaradossi, you could understand why Tosca (the wonderful Patricia Racette), would believe Scarpia’s deception with the infamous Attavanti fan because of the veneer he presented to her.

What a road this cast had - losing conductor James Levine and star Karita Mattila to serious injuries two weeks prior and Kaufmann's problems getting to New York after the volcanic ash caused airline cancellations across Europe.  Despite almost no rehearsal time together, Racette, Kaufmann, Terfel and conductor Fabio Luisi created magic and the electricity intensified with each of the four performances.  Even in the final Act 11 confrontation of Terfel’s Scarpia and Kaufmann’s Cavaradossi, if my binoculars weren’t clenched tightly in my hands, I would have pinched myself to make certain I was really seeing these two operatic giants together.  Jaded and not-so-jaded Met regulars were bug-eyed with wonder.  At one intermission, a regular came to me, his face lit up, exclaiming:  “Did you SEE that??!!”  Thankfully, I did – every minute of it!

For me, performances such as these are the Toscas of last Spring and Radvanovsky’s Met role debut are one of the things that bring a special exhilaration to life. While I enjoy my favorite artists on CD or DVD or You Tube clips; as an amateur choral singer, I know that you cannot compare them to hearing the performance live in the theatre or concert hall.  And, even in performance, you can see the same piece with the same cast twice in the same week and have a totally different experience.  

After receiving regular e-mails of my reactions to performances and exhibits I had seen, a friend suggested I start this blog.  While the idea was startling, I paid attention because he is one of the finest musicians I know, who does not give praise lightly. But, it took a while to get here. Even though few may ever give this blog more than a passing glace, I was somewhat daunted by a background of ghostwriting for others and not writing for myself.  A pleasurable exception to this was being asked by a friend in Barcelona to contribute to a web magazine in Spain devoted to dance.  The occasion was the 2008 premiere of Spain’s first classical ballet company in twenty years; Corella Ballet Castilla y León, created by the magnificent Ángel Corella, long-time American Ballet Theatre Principal Dancer.  Thanks to another friend in Madrid who supplied the translation, my piece was included in the Spanish and English editions of the website, and I was touched and gratified by the response of those who read it.

While close to the starting gate with this project, I was half-way through a first posting, when the thought of a Radvanovsky/Kaufmann Tosca stopped me in my tracks. Unlike a professional arts reviewer, a blogger has the freedom to choose what to write and how often to do so – or not to do so.  It’s likely that my primary focus will be on people and performances that move and inspire me, just as I was inspired by Corella’s arduous struggle to bring classical ballet back to Spain.  (But, there are times when a director, designer or reviewer has moved me to indignation, so that may come across as well.) In every age and every area of the arts, performers are all so different and each of us has our own special favorites. Choral singing has given me even more of a respect for how exposed performers are on stage.  Struggling with vocal difficulties due to illness or injury is frustrating for anyone, but a choral singer is not as vulnerable as a solo performer, who is right out there in front and has nowhere to hide.  I’m certainly not intending to criticize a performer or put one up against another - as an amateur I would feel especially ridiculous doing so. Nor do I want to enter into an extended debate with anyone.  It’s a waste of time and energy and not my idea of fun!  Life gives us enough drama and I prefer to keep drama on the stage and screen - where it rightfully belongs.

So, it begins….