Sunday, October 28, 2012

From Faust to... well, Faust: A quick look at the demonic side of opera

Well, ladies and gentlemen, Halloween is almost upon us, which, of course, means that it is time to explore the supernatural side of opera.  Last year, I wrote on my other blog about ghosts, from Macbeth to Pique Dame to The Turn of the Screw.  I thought about continuing with that theme this year, but I decided to do something different this time.  So I scoured the internet (more like, I did a couple of quick searches) for demons and devils in opera.  And while I know there are many more operas with demonic themes, the story of Faust is so rich with operatic material that three of the four operas featured here are based on it.
We will start our journey to the dark side of opera with Le veau d'or from Gounod's Faust.  I apologize for the lack of English subtitles, but I specifically wanted to use this performance, which stars Rene Pape, and it was nearly impossible to find anywhere online.  But after searching high and low, I did manage to get ahold of this one copy of it, tucked away in the furthest corner of the internet.  So without further ado, here it is.




Next up is another take on the Faust legend, this time Mefistofele, written by the Italian composer Arrigo Boito.  Here is Samuel Ramey singing Son lo spirito che nega, and looking like the devil himself!
 


Our third example is from La Damnation de Faust by Hector Berlioz, sung here by John Relyea.




The next opera, Anton Rubinstein's The Demon, provides a different take on the character.  The aria Na Vozdushnom Akiane, sung here by Dmitri Hvorostovsky, demonstrates the romantic, seductive side of the demon.
 


And that gentle romance brings us right back around to Faust, for a somewhat more sinister serenade.  Here is Ildar Abdrazakov singing Vous, qui faites l'endormie from Gounod's opera.


And on that note, dear readers, I will wish you a good night and  a happy Halloween!

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Opera-tune-ists: Giacomo Puccini

First published at South Florida Opera Scene on January 19, 2012

Hello again, everybody.  Today, since this is long overdue, I will be writing about one of my favorite composers: Giacomo Puccini. 


Now, anybody who knows anything about opera will tell you that Puccini was a genius.  His operas are among the most frequently performed today.  In fact, you may be hard-pressed to find a single opera company, anywhere in the world, that does not include at least one Puccini opera every season.  But what is it that makes Puccini so popular?  Is it his beautiful, soaring melodies?  His incredibly romantic libretti?  The intense, often heart-rending drama?  Or is it the immediacy of his style, a style that often leads the viewer to forget that he or she is watching an opera rather than an action movie?  Well, the simple answer is, "yes!"  It is a bit of all of these, and every opera lover is drawn to a different element of his work.  My husband, for example, was particularly impressed with Rodolfo's suave, poetic pickup lines.  My brother blares Liu's delicate arias as he drives down the street with his windows open.  And I hang on the edge of my seat for the entire second act of Tosca, even though I already know exactly what's going to happen.  And when you put all of these elements together, the results are often magical!
When I decided to write about Puccini, I thought about what I might include here.  Do I talk about his personal history?  His influences?  His wonderful music?  After giving it some careful consideration, I decided to just start writing and see where it carries me.  After all, that is precisely what his music does: it carries the listener off into the world of the opera.  So I think that the best place to start, as an introduction to FGO's new production, is with the most well-known aria from La Rondine.




Okay, so here we have a beautiful aria.  It demonstrates Puccini's status as a master of gorgeous melody.  But what about the drama?  What about the gut-wrenching, nail-biting action I spoke of?  Well, here is the very scene I mentioned above, as sung by Bryn Terfel and Angela Gheorghiu.




And what of the poetry?  The romantic lyrics?  The beautiful words, and the music that reflects them?  Puccini's operas are full of these gorgeously amorous moments, and who is better suited to demonstrate them than his very own poet?





So here we have some of the most essential elements of Puccini's work: beauty, passion, and drama.  I know I really didn't get into those other things I mentioned, such as history and influence.  But for me, Puccini has always been purely about the art.  Any other discussion, to me, would be a distraction.  When I watch Puccini, I want to close my eyes and enjoy every note.  But I don't dare, because I don't want to miss a moment of what is happening on stage.  I don't want to think; I want to be swept away!  I want to be carried to 19th century Rome, or to Nagasaki, or to Peking!  And therein lies the pure genius of Puccini: with a note, he can carry you to any one of those far-off places and times.
And on that note, (no pun intended,) I will leave you with one final aria to sweep you away.



Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Hook 'em while they're young!

First published at South Florida Opera Scene on November 14, 2011




I consider myself very lucky.  I discovered opera at a young age, long before I was aware of all the negative stereotypes associated with it.  Long before I knew it was "uncool", or even that anything could be uncool, I was listening to the gorgeous sounds of Bizet, Verdi, and Puccini.  Long before I knew that my musical preferences would be scrutinized by my adolescent peers, my my love of opera was cemented in my heart.
My parents exposed me to a very broad range of musical styles almost from the day I was born.  Irish music and Highland bagpipes were a staple in our home.  My mother played me music from all over the world, ranging from klezmer to Russian folk songs, bluegrass to Indian sitar.  And, of course, she played classical music.  My father played the Grateful Dead and Pink Floyd.  So by the time I was nine years old, I was very open to any new music, as long as it wasn't pop.
One evening back in 1987, my mother put down the TV Guide, sat me on the couch, and turned on PBS.  We were going to try something new!  I really had no idea what to expect, but within minutes I was lost in the now-familiar notes of the overture to Carmen.  I don't remember much about that evening, but I went to school the next day singing all these wonderful songs I had heard for the first time the night before.  That evening changed my life.  I began listening to as much opera as I could, and I attended my first live performance at age eleven.
Let's jump forward a couple of decades, now.  I have two young boys, ages four and eight.  Our morning drive to school usually starts like this:
Me: OK kids, what do you want to listen to today?
4 year old: Eugene Onegin!
8 year old: No, my favorite Russian songs! (Dmitri Hvorostovsky, of course!)
4 year old: Il Trovatore!
8 year old: No, Tosca!
By this point, I've managed to make it out of the neighborhood without crashing the car.  Once we've settled on something, the conversation continues.
4 year old: (Singing)
8 year old: Stop singing!  I can sing it better!
Me: So let me hear both of you!
4 year old: (Singing)
8 year old: Stop singing!
No one else in either of their classes has car rides quite like this, as far as I know.  But I wouldn't have it any other way.  I began playing opera for them in utero, and didn't stop when they were born.  I took my eldest to his first live performance, Aida, two months before he turned four.  He knew most of the music before we went, and was totally engrossed throughout.  (I only learned of the "no children under six" rule during intermission, but he behaved very well, and I only had to remind him once, during the Triumphal March, not to sing along to himself.)  My younger one has yet to attend, partially because he is so curious about everything that, even when watching something he has seen a dozen times, we're lucky if he goes a full two minutes without asking a question.  But at home, at least once a week I put something on the Met Player, and they're both glued to the TV for the rest of the evening.
As much as my children love opera, they are already beginning to hear things like "opera sucks" from their peers.  Their teachers are unfamiliar with it, and show no interest when they express their enthusiasm.  The other children around them, at best, have never been exposed to opera, and at worst, have inherited their parents' negative opinions about it without ever getting the chance to experience it for themselves.  And yet, the minute any opera singer joins a competition such as America or Britain's Got Talent, the audience goes wild.  People are starving for opera, and they don't even realize it.
So when is the right time to give it to them?  Certainly, better late than never.  Friends at work occasionally surprise me when they say things like, "I wish I knew you were going to the opera last night!  I've always wanted to give it a try!"  Once they  have expressed an interest, I go out of my way to try to give them a proper introduction.  Many of them have simply never had the opportunity extended to them, and have therefore missed out on a lifetime of enjoyment.  Which leads me to the answer to the above question: as soon as possible!!!


The next question, then, is how to give it to them.  You could, of course, do it the way my parents did for me, and I did for my children: give it to them straight, from an early age, and watch them lap it up.  In recent years, though, more opportunities are being presented by opera companies everywhere to introduce children to opera.  For instance, the Metropolitan Opera Guild offers hands-on opera workshops to children ages five to eight, as well as school programs that enable children across the country to experience opera in the classroom and on the big screen.  The Opera Theatre of Saint Louis offers an opera summer camp for young children.  And the Florida Grand Opera offers programs for elementary, middle school, and high school aged children, including classroom visits, presentations that explore both the vocal and technical aspects of opera production, dress rehearsal tickets, and a mentoring program to help guide aspiring artists on the path to careers in opera.  Additionally, many programs are offered in public libraries from coast to coast.
But regardless of how it is done, when opera is presented to children, they usually respond enthusiastically.  It's easy for them to get caught up in the drama, the action, and of course, the music.  Sometimes, that enthusiasm sticks with them, opening all sorts of doors to the many wonders of opera.  Sometimes that first operatic experience captures the imagination of a young child, changing the way he or she looks at music forever. 
Perhaps one day I'll pull up to a traffic light, windows down, and hear the children in the next car arguing over whether they should listen to Turandot or Rigoletto.  My eight-year-old just might lean his head out the window and shout, "Neither!  Don Giovanni!"     

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Exploring Artists: Dmitri Hvorostovsky

First published at South Florida Opera Scene on November 30, 2011, updated on October 7, 2012

 Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce you to the Exploring Artists series.  Each installment will feature a single opera singer, well-known or not, and will spotlight his or her career and works.  If you would like to see a specific singer featured, or if you are a singer yourself, and would like to be featured on Exploring Artists, please let me know!  Otherwise, you'll just have to sit tight while I work my way through some of my favorites, which is how I will start, anyway.



The obvious choice to inaugurate the Exploring Artists series is my current musical obsession, the great Siberian baritone, Dmitri Hvorostovsky.  Although I've known his name since I was sixteen years old, his voice is a relatively new discovery for me.  I first heard of him on one of my many visits to a specialty music store in Eugene, Oregon, one of the few cities in the country able to support a store that sold opera almost exclusively.  Anyway, I went in that day to pick up one of the Domingo recordings (probably Il Trovatore or Tosca) that I had special ordered.  I glanced at the posters on the wall, as I always did, and there, between Placido Domingo and Yo Yo Ma, was this guy with this impossible name.  I seem to recall that his hair was already quite noticeably whitening, but that could be my memory playing tricks on me.  This was, after all, back in 1993 or 1994, and who can really accurately remember the details that far back?  Anyway, I couldn't tell from the poster if he was a singer, a pianist, a conductor, or something else, and I didn't really pay too much attention.  I was on a mission!  My new Domingo CD was waiting!
Over the years, I would see his name in various places, on Opera's Greatest CDs, on upcoming performance mailings, and I'd think back to that day at Musique Gourmet and wonder again exactly how to pronounce that "hv".  And yet, I never really heard him sing.  Then earlier this year, my son and I went to see Il Trovatore from the Met Live in HD.  It is my favorite opera, and Dolora Zajick was singing Azuchena, so I was really excited.  I didn't know who else was singing, and I didn't care.  I was expecting her to be the star of the show, as she always is in this role.  But as amazing as her performance was, the spotlight was stolen from her by a silver-haired, velvet-voiced baritone.  After almost twenty years, I had finally heard Dmitri Hvorostovsky.  And I was hooked from the moment the words "tace la notte" left his lips.  The notes he sang were so breathtakingly beautiful and powerful, and he played the role of di Luna with such passion that, for the first time in my life, I found myself sympathizing with the "evil" Count.



Well, I didn't sleep for many hours after that performance.  I was up half the night, watching YouTube videos of this amazing artist.  I saw him singing Rigoletto in concert, hunched over as he stood there on stage in his tux.  I saw him transform almost instantly from the grim hunchback to the delightfully humorous Figaro.  I saw him achieve the impossible feat of simultaneously singing both Don Giovanni and his servant, Leporello.  And I saw him singing all the Russian songs I grew up listening to.  And every performance was executed with such skill and beauty as to be virtually flawless!  I was completely in awe of his voice, which is like intense dark chocolate (72% or higher), melted into a rich, creamy fondue sauce and drizzled over fresh strawberries, and of his *ahem* shall we say, somewhat above average looks.  (My husband teases me mercilessly on that point, but he forgets that there's an incredible voice to go along with the pretty face!)    
So what's a (at the time) college girl who's sick of researching vascular diseases supposed to do at eleven o'clock on a work night?  More research, of course!  So I quickly set about learning everything I could about this glorious singer, and here's a bit of what I found. 
Dmitri Hvorostovsky was born in Krasnoyarsk, Siberia, where he studied music from a young age.  After winning several national competitions, he entered the Cardiff Singer of the World competition in 1989, where he famously beat Welsh bass-baritone Bryn Terfel in the almost legendary "battle of the baritones".  Choosing a single aria to post from that performance was very difficult, but ultimately I selected this because it so beautifully demonstrates his unbelievable breath control.



Anyway, his career exploded literally the next day.  He had recording contracts and bookings with the great opera houses and concert halls the world over.  Over the years, he has performed a wide range of roles, ranging from Tchaikovsky to Mozart to Verdi.  His portrayal of Rigoletto is at once fierce and tender, full of love for his daughter and hatered for everyone else.  He is the definitive Eugene Onegin, and once I saw him performing opposite Renee Fleming, no other baritone would do for the role.  The glimpses he has given us of his Iago, which I hope we will soon have the pleasure of witnessing in its entirety, are spine-chillingly evil.  And as I'm sure I mentioned before, his di Luna changed my whole perspective of Il Trovatore.
 


In addition to his fully-staged operatic performances, Mr. Hvorostovsky is a celebrated recitalist and concert performer.  Every year he travels the world, singing not only opera favorites, but also Neapolitan and Russian songs, and he has even collaborated with the popular Russian composer Igor Krutoy.  He will be returning to the stage of the Met next month, singing the role of Renato in Un Ballo in Maschera.  This highly anticipated production will be broadcast in movie theaters on December 8, with an encore showing on January 9.  This performance is not to be missed, so mark your calendars!
  

As I prepare to sign off for the night, it occurs to me that I have not even touched upon Mr. Hvorostovsky's breathtaking performances of the Russian operas.  However, since the hour is late and my current internet speed leaves much to be desired, that will have to wait for another time.  Good night, and happy listening!