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Juan Diego Flórez Dazzles at Carnegie Hall

Juan Diego Flórez, photo by Steve J. Sherman

At Carnegie Hall’s Stern Auditorium on the night of Wednesday, November 29th, I had the exceptional pleasure of attending a wonderful recital featuring the marvelous tenor, Juan Diego Flórez—he is one of the most appealing operatic talents of our time—admirably accompanied by pianist Vincenzo Scalera, in a program that was especially refreshing for its focus on less commonly encountered repertory.

The first half of the event, in which the singer seemed at least slightly underpowered, was devoted to Italianate music, beginning with Christoph Willibald Gluck’s memorable aria, “O del mio dolce ardor,” from his late, now rarely performed 1770 opera, Paride ed Elena. A highlight of the evening was the incredibly beautiful song, “Amarilli, mia bella,” by Giulio Romolo Caccini from his 1602 collection, Le nuove musiche. The next song was another example of early music, Giacomo Carissimi’s solo cantata “Vittoria, mio core!” of 1656 from his Canzonette amorose.

The first half concluded with a set of works, mostly not often played, by Gioachino Rossini, beginning with three selections from his late collection, Péchés de vieillesse (Sins of Old Age). The first of these, which is from the third volume, was “L’esule” (“The Exile”), followed by “La lontananza” (“Distant Love”), which is from the first volume. Scalera then performed “Danse Sibérienne” from the volume of solo piano pieces. Flórez then sang two arias: first, “Deh! tu m'assisti amore" from Il signor Bruschino, an opera that premiered in 1813 and that Rossini composed when he was only twenty and which, according to Janet E. Bedell’s program note, is famous today for its overture; and second, the double aria known as acavatina-cabaletta,"La speranza più soave,” from the last of the composer’s Italian operas, the more well-knownSemiramide,which premiered in 1823 and was adapted from Voltaire’s tragedy Semiramis.

The second half of the concert was much more impressive, with Flórez’s voice sounding much stronger and with the singer truly coming into his own with the Romantic repertory. He began with “Linda! Si ritirò!” and theromanza, “Se tanto in ira agli uomini,” from Gaetano Donizetti’s Linda di Chamounix, which premiered in 1842 and is described as a “pastoral romance” by the annotator, who adds that is “rarely revived today, but remains a cherished work for aficionados of bel canto opera.” About the next selection, she usefully writes:

Far more obscure is Donizetti’s unfinished opera Il duca d’Alba, originally commissioned by the Opéra national de Paris in 1839 as the grand opera Le duc d’Albeto a libretto by the famous Eugène Scribe and Charles Duveyrier. Unaccountably, the Opéra decided to terminate the commission after Donizetti had written about half the score. He then turned his attention to another libretto for Paris, La favorite, staged successfully in 1840. (Interestingly, in 1855 Scribe and Duveyrier’s libretto was revised into Les vêpres siciliennes for Verdi.)

Thirty-four years after Donizetti’s death, the Milanese publisher Lucca entrusted Donizetti’s one-time pupil Matteo Salvi with the task of completing Il duca d’Alba now in an Italian translation; this was premiered in Rome in 1882. And it was Salvi, not Donizetti, who actually composed the beautiful tenor aria “Angelo casto e bel.”

Much less obscure was Giuseppe Verdi’s “Questa o quella” from his celebrated opera, Rigoletto, that premiered in 1851. Flórez then sang the recitative, “L’émir auprès de lui m’appelle,” with its accompanying aria, “Je veux encore entendre.” About their source, Bedell explains:

Jérusalem fulfilled Verdi’s first commission for the Opéra national de Paris in 1847, but it wasn’t a new creation: Instead, it was a translation into French and revision of his fourth opera,I Lombardi, premiered at Milan’s La Scala in 1843.

She comments that the “aria will be familiar to many listeners, for it is Lombardi’s well-known ‘La mia letizia infondere.’” And about the next work, she summarizes:

Verdi rarely wrote for instruments alone, but Vincenzo Scalera opens this section with a brief piece he composed in 1844, “Romanza senza parole” (“Romance without Words”). In 1865, Verdi’s first publisher, Giovanni Canti, turned to various prominent composers of the day to assemble a collection of short piano pieces entitled Gioie e sospiri (Joys and Sighs). Grateful for Canti’s help when he needed it most, Verdi offered this romanza.

The aubade that followed, Edouard Lalo’s “Vainement, ma bien-aimée,” was probably the most beautiful selection in the program. About the composer and its source, the annotator remarks:

The greatest triumph of his career, however, came in 1888 when he premiered his opera Le roi d’Ys at Paris’s Opéra-Comique. Originally written in 1875, it had initially been turned down by the Opéra national de Paris, but Lalo’s revision over the next decade finally led to its warm embrace by French audiences. 

She also records, “Premiering on April 27, 1867—only a month after Verdi’s Don Carlos debuted at the Opéra national de Paris—Charles Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette enjoyed a far greater success than Verdi’s grand opera.” Flórez performed the aria “Ah! lève-toi, soleil” from that work.

The program proper concluded with two selections by Giacomo Puccini, starting with one of his few purely instrumental works, a piano piece here played by Scalera, titled “Foglio d’album” (“Page in an Album”) and marked Moderato, con affètto (“with tenderness”), about which Bedell says it is “believed to have been written in either 1907 or 1910 in New York City while Puccini was assisting with productions of his operas at the Metropolitan Opera.” Bedell is also informative on the background of the final aria:

The Central European legend of thevila—young women betrayed by their lovers who turn into dancing nocturnal spirits bent on vengeance—received its most famous dramatic representation in Adolphe Adam’s classic ballet Giselle in 1846. Four decades later, Puccini chose it for his first opera, Le Villi, composed for a competition in 1884. Though it didn’t win, composer-librettist Arrigo Boito was sufficiently impressed that he backed it for a premiere at the Teatro dal Verme in Milan. However, when other theaters mounted Le Villi, the initial excitement dissipated as Italian audiences rejected it as “too Wagnerian.”

Flórez sang what she describes as “its greatest number,” the scena drammatica “Torna ai felice dì”—which was added by the composer in 1885—preceded by its opening recitative (“Ecco la casa”).

An enormously enthusiastic reception was rewarded by the artists with an amazing seven encores, several with the singer accompanying himself on guitar including the Peruvian anthem "La flor de la canela,” "El día que me quieres" by Carlos Gardel and the exceedingly popular "Cucurrucucú paloma.”



Juilliard Orchestra Perform at Lincoln Center

Thomas Wilkins conducts Juilliard Orchestra, photo by Claudio Papapietro

At Lincoln Center’s Alice Tully Hall on the evening of Monday, November 20th, I had the wonderful opportunity to attend a superb concert featuring the excellent musicians of the Juilliard Orchestra, here under the impressive direction of Thomas Wilkins.

The program began auspiciously with a thoroughly engaging account of George Gershwin’s marvelous, enormously popular An American in Paris from 1928.The composer commented interestingly upon it that, “if it pleases symphony audiences as a light, jolly piece, a series of impressions musically expressed, it succeeds.”

Four admirable soloists—Paige Quillen, Carys Sutherland, Emily Howell, and Colby Kleven—then took the stage for a pleasurable rendition of Robert Schumann’s fine, too seldom performed Konzertstück for Four Horns and Orchestra in F Major, Op. 86, from 1849, played here in the early 2000s arrangement by Kerry Turner which, in the program note by Sutherland, is described as “audibly indistinguishable from the original for the audience,” adding:

Schumann’s original manuscript gives nearly every virtuosic passage to only the first horn, with the other players mostly serving as backup harmony. This arrangement divides the high passages between the first and second horns, and the third and fourth horns dazzle in the Romance while the first two take a much-needed rest. The overall result is that the players are equally involved technically and melodically, making this truly a four-horn concerto.

The spirited initial movement has a Mendelssohnian quality that persists throughout the work as a whole, while the slower Romance that follows is contrastingly elevated and the very fastfinaleis exuberant and propulsive, returning to something closer to theethosof the first movement. The artists earned vigorous applause.

The second half of the event was even stronger, a sterling realization of Florence Price’s extraordinary, recently rediscovered Symphony No. 3 in C Minor from 1940, which reverts to an approach involving popular idioms that is closer to that which characterizes An American in Paris. The opening Allegro—which has a solemn, Andante introduction—is frequently boisterous—but with echoes of Gershwin and Aaron Copland that can seemingly be discerned elsewhere in the piece as well—and ends abruptly. The ensuing movement, marked Andante ma non troppo, is more inward in orientation while the buoyant and playful third movement is anAllegrowith some placid moments that iscast in the form of thejuba,explained by the annotator as:

...a style of dance originating from Kongo slaves in the pre-Civil War South. Because drums were forbidden on many plantations, the dance involved clapping and stomping, and may be the origin of modern tap dance...

Thefinale—aScherzo—is ebullient with dramatic passages and closes powerfully. The performers were rewarded with an enthusiastic ovation.

Off-Broadway Play Review—David Adjmi’s “Stereophonic”

Stereophonic
Written by David Adjmi
Directed by Daniel Aukin
Through December 17, 2023
Playwrights Horizons
416 West 42nd Street, New York, NY
Playwrightshorizons.org
 
The cast of Stereophonic (photo: Cherice Parry)


Dramatizing the creation of a new album by a rock quintet in 1976 that bears a distinct resemblance to a mega-popular ensemble from that era, David Adjmi’s play Stereophonic spends three-plus hours immersing the audience in the group’s recording sessions: the playing, the arguing, the drinking and drug-taking, the banal chatter, the boringly idle time in between working on the music. At times incisive, but quite often excruciatingly dull, Stereophonic plays like a less entertaining version of the Beatles’ Get Back, where at least we get to experience real musical genius on display in between the dull bits.
 
Adjmi has rather baldly made his fictional band a dead ringer for Fleetwood Mac: drummer Simon, bassist Reg and keyboard player/vocalist Holly are all English, with the latter two in a rocky marriage. There are also two Americans: Diana, the pretty female singer and Peter, her beau, also a singer and the lead guitarist, who is grabbing the reins of the album’s production whether the others like it or not. The group is recording its followup to its current hit LP, which is peaking—along with its hit single, composed and sung by the American girl—just as the quintet starts on the new opus, which begins as a one-month session but drags on for more than a year, at an astronomical cost and at two studios.
 
Adjmi has fused the making of Fleetwood Mac’s mega-smash Rumours with its commercially disappointing—but more musically expansive—followup, Tusk, for the purposes of squeezing more drops of drama out of what is not very dramatic. David Zinn’s remarkably detailed set consists of the control room’s large 32-track recording console at center stage, where recording engineer Grover and his seemingly anonymous assistant Charlie (there are unfunny jokes made at poor Charlie’s expense) sit, surrounded by chairs, couches and rugs that the band members use; beyond, behind a large window, is the sound room. The entire play consists of conversations and confrontations on either side of the glass, with the group playing their new songs, sometimes in mere snatches and at other times in their entirety. 
 
That the play clocks in at 3 hours and 10 minutes might be thought an act of mercy; after a fuzzy and unfocused, nearly two-hour first act, the second act is much tighter, flying by in a little more than an hour. It’s also where the drama of sorts comes to a head, as Holly and Reg break up nastily, Diana and Peter break up even more nastily, Peter knocks down Grover and briefly fires him for the sin of following Peter’s own directive regarding a new guitar section, and Diana informs Holly that she has been offered a solo album deal by their record label. The dichotomy between the banality of the dialogue and the naked intimacy among these characters yields occasional insights amid the dross.
 
Then there are Will Butler’s songs, which sound more like outtakes from the 1975 “debut” album by the real Fleetwood Mac lineup than the more incisively personal tunes that captivated the rock world on Rumours (not to mention the more experimental tunes on Tusk). And although the cast of five actors playing the musicians perform with appreciable gusto—particularly Sarah Pidgeon, who plays the Stevie Nicks-like Diana captivatingly and with a powerfully impressive singing voice—the songs themselves don’t deserve the time the play gives to them.
 
Aside from Pidgeon, Tom Pecinka (Peter), Will Brill (Reg), Chris Stack (Simon), Juliana Canfield (Holly), Eli Gelb (Grover) and Andrew R. Butler (Charlie) are excellent individually and as an ensemble. Daniel Aukin directs with a fine eye for the details Adjmi has written into the script, like the opening’s tantalizing layering of different conversations a la Robert Altman’s films. If only Aukin had trimmed more of the musical performances (as the group ponders doing in a climactic scene about the extra tracks they’ve recorded), Stereophonic would have been a more entertaining (and less literal) recreation of the bloatedness that began being baked into 1970s rock. 

Armenian National Philharmonic Orchestra Plays Carnegie Hall, Presented by CLASSIC MUSIC TV

Photo from Classic Music TV.

At Carnegie Hall, on the evening of Wednesday, November 15th, I had the pleasure of attending a splendid concert—presented by Classic Music TV—featuring the Armenian National Philharmonic Orchestra under the distinguished direction of Edward Tophjan.

The program opened brilliantly with an exhilarating realization of three magnificent selections from the celebrated 1953 ballet score, Spartacus, by the Armenian composer Aram Khachaturian—this year is the 120th anniversary of his birth. The first excerpt, “Variations of Aegina and Bacchanalia,” is sparkling and dynamic, while the second, “Adagio of Spartacus and Phrygia,” begins lyrically but builds to a more emphatic statement, concluding serenely. The final section, “Dance of Gaditanian Maidens and Victory of Spartacus,” is evocative and mysterious, increasing in excitement and appropriately closes triumphantly.

An admirable soloist, Sergey Khachatryan, then joined the artists for an impressive account of the same composer’s Violin Concerto in D minor from 1940—a work that, like the music for Spartacus, deserves a more prominent place in the repertory. The initial, ambitious Allegro con fermezza is energetic—even agitated at times—but with meditative moments and it has both an exotic quality as well as, especially in the cadenza,avant-gardeelements. The Andante sostenuto that follows is reflective and melodic—seemingly with Eastern folk motifs—but is not without intensity and ends quietly. The Allegro vivace that completes the piece is restless, even turbulent at times, but with sprightly passages and it finishes dramatically.

The second half of the event was also memorable, comprised of a compelling rendition of the marvelous Symphony No. 2 of Sergei Rachmaninoff, whose sesquicentennial anniversary is also this year. The main body—marked Allegro moderato—of the complex first movement—which has a solemn, Largo introduction that becomes more soulful—has a largely passionate, even urgent, character but sometimes is almost bucolic and the Allegro molto that succeeds it is propulsive, playful and suspenseful but with emotional passages. The famous, haunting primary theme of the Adagio that ensues is impossibly beautiful while the Allegro vivace finale is exuberant with some subdued episodes. A very enthusiastic ovation was rewarded with a delightful encore: the famous Waltz from the 1944 Suite drawn from the incidental music Khachaturian wrote for the Mikhail Lermontov play,Masquerade.

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