GABRIELLA REINA

 Andrés Sarre and Gabriella Reyes

Soprano Gabriella Reyes is, yes, every inch a queen and the adoring audience comprises her loyal subjects. She rules by means of a generous instrument with many colors, by means of supernal audience rapport, by means of a deep understanding of the text, and by means of that intangible Latin American soul, a quality that manifests in most Latin American music.

We love hearing emerging artists at the inception of their careers and then, sadly, we lose sight (and sound) of them as they make their way through opera stages around the country and around the world. It is a cause for celebration when they return to New York City and we can bear witness to the fulfillment of their potential.

In the case of "La Reina" we first heard her at the Metropolitan Council National Competition Finals eight years ago when she dazzled the audience with "Il est doux, il est bon" from Massenet's Herodiade and took a leap into the then-new territory of Daniel Catan's Florencia en el Amazonas. We made note of the ear-thrilling upper register and fine vibrato.

Her acceptance into the Lindemann Program gave us two further opportunities to hear her facility with different repertory. We recall some Strauss songs which fit her large voice like a glove, and a couple performances of "Carceleras" from Chapi's Las hijas de Zebedeo--memorable because we are so fond of of zarzuela, so fond that we sat in the summer rain to enjoy it.

And we heard Ms. Reyes the following summer at the Santa Fe Opera where she made quite a sensation as an ice-skating Musetta in Puccini's La Bohême. Is there anything this versatile artist cannot do? Now that we have stirred the pot of our memory we recall a very moving performance of Liu's aria "Tu che di gel sei cinta" from Puccini's Turandot.

Last night, gracias a Dios, she returned to New York City for her first solo recital (coulda fooled us on that point) at Carnegie Recital Hall. Most recitals attempt to show off the singer in a range of styles and languages, but Ms. Reyes is no ordinary artist. She held the audience captive with a well curated program of Spanish songs, most of which were new to us. Along with her superb collaborative pianist Andrés Sarre, she treated us to songs from all over Latin America--from Argentina, Mexico, Brazil, and Peru. We even heard songs sung in Quechua, a language we don't understand but one we recognize since a Peruvian friend has sung for us in that language. 

Each song brought out a different aspect of Ms. Reyes' vocal technique, here a very expansive upper register, there a deeply affecting vibrato, here a significant pause, there an exquisite pianissimo.  But each song was melodic, reminding us that the lamentable influences of serialism and atonalism that infected 20th century vocal music in Europe and the United States was nowhere to be heard. The Latin American soul is too sensual and passionate to fall for such intellectualism. Most of these 20th century composers made good use of folk music and refined it with European technique.

We did have a couple favorites and our top choice was the second encore, a delightful song extolling the virtues of Ms. Reyes' ancestral homeland--Nicaragua; it is said to be Nicaragua's unofficial anthem. Another favorite was Victor Carajo's "La niña de Guatemala" in which the poet José Marti tells a story that would make a fine opera. The poet describes a funeral and alternates verses about how a married lover broke the girl's heart.  There was another song by Enrique Soro entitled "Storia d'una bimba" in which the poet Angelo Bignotti relates, in Italian, a tender story that seems to tell of a man who watches a beautiful little girl grow into womanhood. The coloration of the music and voice suggest a tinge of sorrow or nostalgia as the poet watches someone else kissing her forehead as he used to. 

It's only been about a year or two since Ms. Reyes' notable gifts brought her back to sing at the Metropolitan Opera. How fortunate we feel to have experienced these gifts "up close and personal". A solo recital is truly a glimpse into the heart of an artist. We loved what we saw and heard!

© meche kroop

THE LITTLE (MERMAID) MENTAL PATIENT

Benjamin R. Sokol, Fernando Silva-Gorbea, Sara Stevens, Qing Liu, and Su Hyeon Park

Some topnotch singing, acting, and orchestral luminosity delighted our ears last night at Manhattan School of Music Graduate Opera Theatre's production of Antonin Dvořák's Rusalka. We unfortunately had to deal with an ill-advised example of regietheater devised by Director John de los Santos, whose direction we usually enjoy. According to the Director's Notes which we generally read after viewing the production, Mr. de los Santos was inspired by the fact that the building occupied by Manhattan School of Music was once an asylum for the mentally ill.

Regular readers will recall that we strongly prefer a work that speaks for itself, allowing us to draw our own analogies, which we did and may choose to share  later on. The director's concept was to transform the water spite Rusalka into a mental patient around the turn of the 20th century, just about the time that Jaroslav Kvapil wrote his libretto, adapted from a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen (and others)  which was, in turn, devised from a few Slavic folk legends about women water sprites who lured men to their death by tickling (!) or drowning.

In this production, Michael Ruiz-del-Vizo's double decker set design had an institutional appearance whilst Ashley Soliman's costume design had some of the characters in period costume with the inmates in drab identical shapeless garb. We deliberately called them inmates because the attendants treated them like prisoners, which, in a sense they were. (Dear Reader, do read about the Kennedy sister who was similarly imprisoned at the behest of her father Joseph.)

The stage was filled with efficient nurses in crisp nursing attire and guards with numbered arm bands, against whom the inmates struggled. Inmates were chained together cruelly by ropes and led around. It seemed more political than medical, with the exception of a kindly doctor who stood in for the opera's Vodnik, a water goblin that the water sprites call their father, except here he is their well meaning doctor. In this role, Benjamin R. Sokol used his resonant lower register and kindly demeanor to good advantage, singing with fine tone and sympathetic inflection.

As Rusalka, super soprano Sara Stevens (see what we did there?) threw herself into the role and gave the director exactly what he wanted and, through her superlative singing, gave us what we wanted--a vocally impeccable performance. The coloration was admirable and she floated her high notes when appropriate and opened up her voice when that was dramatically called for. The deservedly famous aria "Song to the Moon" expressed a longing so deep that it brought tears to our eyes. If someone told us that Rusalka was chosen as a vehicle to show off her artistry we would believe them!

In this odd version of the story, The Prince, whilst singing about spotting a white doe while out hunting, seems to be someone who stops by the asylum to read to the patients. Fernando Silva-Gorbea employed a pleasing tenor instrument with enough tenderness that we felt sad when he was stabbed to death by Rusalka However, we were wondering how a dagger would have been left lying around in an insane asylum--just one of a number of inconsistencies caused by shoehorning the story into a Procrustean bed.

The witch Ježibaba was here some kind of matron/surgeon in strange steam-punk dress who seemed to be operating on Rusalka's brain, since the latter emerges from behind a screen with a bandage on her head that was so disfiguring that we were surprised that The Prince fell in love with her. Of course, the entire thing must have been the hallucination of a paranoid schizophrenic, although a lot of women in these asylums were consigned there for dubious reasons. Qing Liu gave a fine performance in the role, employing a threatening demeanor and steely vocal coloration.

There was even some comic relief during the interaction between the Gamekeeper (Kevin Mann) and the frightened kitchen helper (Jordan Lee Gilbert) whose conversation served to advance the story about the Prince's affection wavering between Rusalka and The Foreign Princess, given an appropriate haughtiness by Su Hyeon Park.

Every voice we heard was of the highest equality, including the trio of Woodsprites (mental patients) comprising Xinran Du, Raine Filbert, and Yiqian Heng. Although Rusalka's "Song to the Moon" is the deservedly famous number, the trio in Act II would make as fine a concert piece as we have ever heard. 

Although Czech is not one of our languages, its plethora of consonants did not seem to hinder any of the singers and we were thrilled that the opera was sung in Czech since the composer's music is so well married to the text. Kudos to the large chorus and their chorus Master Jackson McKinnon.

Maestro Kelly Kuo led the Manhattan School of Music Orchestra through Dvořák's melodic and colorful score with excellent Slavic style. The weird storytelling was so distracting that at times we just closed our eyes and listened to the way the master composer told the story. Let us credit also the fine dramatic lighting of Ron Collins.

If we hadn't been force fed the director's concept, we might have been free to associate on our own, which is what storytelling should do. We imagined a small town girl who fell for a big city guy who was visiting her town and flirted with her because she was pretty and innocent. She followed him to the big city but couldn't match the sophistication and verbal expressiveness of his circle. She watched him getting infatuated with one of his own kind and returned home in despair, only to learn that she no longer fit in there and was ostracized. Now we certainly wouldn't foist that on other people but we sure enjoyed our own musings which, in our opinion, is what opera should do--give us something on stage that we can relate to on our own terms, from our own experiences.

In spite of the conflict between the dialogue and the visuals and switching back and forth between the folktale and the director's conceit, we were glad we went because of the overwhelmingly excellence of the musical values.

© meche kroop

NUN-PLUSSED

 

Curtain Call for Dialogues des Carmelites

We were privileged to have attended opening night of Juilliard Opera's outstanding production of Francis Poulenc's mid 20th century masterpiece Dialogues des Carmélites, for which he wrote both score and libretto. The choice of this opera, telling a disturbing story taking place during the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution, struck us as particularly timely inasmuch as we are on the verge of an upheaval in our own country. It certainly illustrates the consequences of unbridled anger between political factions with horrifying effects on innocent victims.

This is a fictionalized version of the story of the Martyrs of Compiègne, Carmelite nuns who, in 1794 during the closing days of the Reign of Terror  were guillotined in Paris for refusing to renounce their vocation.

Poulenc chose to set the work tonally giving the orchestra great variety of coloration. The vocal lines are predominantly recitativi  and follow the intonation of the French language, making us wonder how that could be accomplished within an ill-advised translation into English. Poulenc himself wished the work to be performed in the vernacular of any given country and indeed the work premiered in Italy--in Italian. Here in the USA, it has been given in French and in English so we were very happy that Juilliard elected to perform it in French.

So if there is nothing like an aria or duet to be enjoyed, one can still appreciate the melodic nature of the spiritual choruses, most notably the Salve Regina in the final scene as the nuns ascend the scaffolding to submit themselves to the blade of the guillotine. As the blade successively falls with a chilling thud, the voices are reduced until there are only the last two martyrs, the former aristocrat Blanche de la Force, excellently sung by mezzo-soprano Ruby Dibble, and the always cheerful Sister Constance, effectively portrayed by Moriah Berry.

A remarkable piece of acting was offered by mezzo-soprano Lauren Randolph as Madame de Croissy, the Prioress of the convent who dies a very unspiritual death, suffering such physical agony that she upsets the two young postulates. Before dying she puts Mother Marie of the Incarnation (well sung and acted by mezzo-soprano Anna Kelly) in charge of Blanche who has been recognized as needing emotional and spiritual support.

Indeed, Ms. Dibble, by means of vocal coloration as well as acting, made it perfectly clear in the opening scene that she was emotionally fragile . The political situation was discussed during that scene by the Marquis de la Force (superbly sung by the rich-voiced bass-baritone Son Jin Kim) and his son the Chevalier de la Force (beautifully sung by tenor Michael John Butler) who would later visit his sister in the convent with an offer of help that she refuses.

Maestro Matthew Aucoin marshaled the forces of the Juilliard Orchestra in a fashion that brought out the varying colors of each section and infused the overall performance with feelings of foreboding and terror, except for the aforementioned religious choruses. We heard some fine solos by a clarinet and great work from the brass section. If we are not mistaken, there were moments reflecting his earlier post WWI short ironic works.

Louisa Muller's direction was tight and straight to the point, fortunately avoiding anything superfluous. It was exactly the way the story needed to be told, holding one's interest throughout and leaving us feeling grief at the end. We do recognize that some very religious viewers might have found the ending spiritually uplifting. We recall a production in Santa Fe in which the director had an actual guillotine right onstage and as the blade fell, cabbages rolled across the stage. It was so convincing that patrons ran fleeing from the theater! It was a relief to be spared such realism.

Kara Harmon's costumes for the first scene had the aristocrats accurately clad in late 18th century glory, as were the soldiers who came in the last act to evict the nuns from their convent. The nuns were, well, dressed like nuns.

Wilson Chin's set design comprised just a few period pieces of furniture for the first scene and a very modern box-like structure with transparent walls to serve as the various rooms of the convent.

Before closing we would like to mention at least some of the other singers that contributed to the success of the evening. Soprano Jasmin Ward impressed as the new Prioress Madame Lidoine. In some "luxury casting" other sisters included Kate Morton and Naomi Steele. Yihe Wang did double duty as a servant and a doctor. Jin Yu was notable as the Chaplain. Jailers and soldiers included Zhongjiancheng Deng, Yoonsoo Jang, Lin Fan, Nazrin Aslan Alyman and Jack Hicks. 

© meche kroop

ON THE ROPES or KO

Sofia Gotch, Ya Gao, Yining Liu, Irene Hyun Young Shin, and Skyler La Nier

Händel's Rinaldo premiered in 1711 in London. In spite of its being a pastiche of melodies from other operas, it achieved immediate success, then lay dormant for centuries, until Baroque opera became popular once again in the 20th c. Perhaps its popularity rests on the fact that Händel used all his best melodies! 

Loosely based on Tasso's epic poem Gerusalemme Liberata, the work explores the themes of love, war, and redemption and is set during the time of the First Crusade, at the turn of the 12th century. The work provided materials for a number of operas and perhaps the subject is now a touchy one because of the battle between Christianity and the Muslim faith depicted onstage.

In a radical and radically truncated version produced by The Manhattan School of Music Graduate Opera Theater, Director George R. Miller chose to set the work as a presumably televised wrestling match in contemporary times. As is our wont, we never read the Director's Notes until after the opera in order to allow the work to speak for itself. Miller's work didn't speak, it screamed--at least as it opened with loud music (rap?  hiphop?) and an array of spectators at what we thought was a boxing ring, cheering and booing, carrying signs. We were rolling our disbelieving eyes

However, as the performance wore on, we were captivated by the musical values and, ultimately, came to appreciate, or at least to understand, what Mr. Miller was going for. Having eliminated all of the magic of the original to focus on both the battle between good and evil and the battle between the sexes, the playing area, which we thought was meant to be a boxing ring, began to make more sense. Except we began to suspect that it was a wrestling match with "anything goes" and a lot of performative fighting which was nonetheless convincing and wince-inducing.

The wacky costuming by Chloe Levy began to make more sense. The lovely heroine Almirena was played by the even lovelier Sofia Gotch who was dressed all in white with sparkly hair and delivered a "Lascia ch'io pianga" as fine as we've ever heard. Moreover, her acting as she manipulated her captor, the Muslim warrior Argante, was hilarious. At times, she posed like what we took to be a star of reality TV.

Argante was brilliantly portrayed by the burly voiced Skyler La Nier who was convincingly warrior-like in his all black Hell's Angel get up.  The eponymous Rinaldo was beautifully sung by Ya Gao whose "Cara sposa, amante cara" went right to the heart by dint of depth of feeling and varied dynamics.  A delicate body build was not the most convincing as a fighter, in spite of fatigue pants and wife-beater top.

The sorceress Armida was given a strong interpretation by Irene Hyun Young Shin, appearing very "goth" in studded black leather.  Her singing was marked by great facility with ornamentation of the vocal line. We particularly enjoyed her  "Ah! crudel, Il pianto mio" especially in the rapid-fire B section. Her performance as "the bad girl" was replete with snarling and quite effective. 

Duets between lovers were deftly handled with voices well matched and expressive.

As Almirena's father Gioffredo, Yining Liu added to the fine performances, although the costume puzzled us. Was the character supposed to be Rinaldo's trainer? And if so, why was Gioffredo joining the fighting? And wearing a suit with a red baseball cap? Perhaps we are just ignorant of wrestling matches.

There were umpires wearing black and white stripes and a couple sitting at a desk off to the side. Were they television commentators as they have at ice skating competitions? In any event, they provided excellent percussion accompaniment to the superb piano of Jeremy Chan and the equally superb harpsichord of Jocelyn Stewart, the two being Co-Music Directors. To say that the pair produced the colors of an orchestra would not be excessive praise. As a matter of fact, the reduction of the score gave us an opportunity to appreciate it in a new way.

As we left the theater, our thoughts wandered into the territory of the terrors of love, which Mozart had such fun with in Cosi fan tutte. In Rinaldo, the sorceress/biker-chick Armida loves Argante the Saracen/biker but tries to seduce Rinaldo. And Rinaldo's intended Almirena behaves very seductively toward Argante whilst being held prisoner. Jordan Jones in drag as a siren was hilarious in his attempt  to seduce Rinaldo. By the end of the opera we began to appreciate what Mr. Miller was going for--the battle between the sexes. No wonder the young cast and young audience enjoyed it so much!

© meche kroop

A NEW CARMEN FOR THE AGES

 Micaela Aldridge with cast of Carmen

(Photo by Joan Greenberg)

Opera Theater Rutgers: Carmen

A New Carmen for the ages…

(Guest Review byJoan Greenberg)

The  promo reads…….:

“Carmen by Georges Bizet, scandalized audiences when it premiered in 1875 at Paris’ Opera Comique. Critics and opera-goers alike were taken aback by the opera’s unconventional heroine, who defied societal norms, with her independence, sensuality, and disregard for authority.

Presented by Rutgers Opera and performed by the Rutgers Symphony Orchestra, this new production, conducted by Kynan Johns and directed by Colm Summers, “aims to find fresh relevance in Bizet’s critique of patriarchy.”

 

Dear Reader, having attended last evening’s performance, this writer is here to say, they succeeded….

 

Full disclosure:

1-   We  have been a longtime fan of the female lead, so there was a concern that we could not be objective. Last evening’s audience put that concern to rest with their resounding applause…. and

 

2-   We are not a fan of the recent “new reimagined” updated and uprooted versions of Carmen such as the one recently performed at the Met.

 

However, while suspension of disbelief may be required …..  (with one exception*) we were not bothered with Rutgers taking Carmen through a Time Machine and changing Bizet’s bullfighter’s vocation from matador to rodeo competitor.

*[the exception being electronic distractions from a television and several overhead projections]

 

Our compliments to the very able (i)  orchestra conducted by Maestro Johns for not (with little exception) drowning out the arias; (ii) the wardrobe designer for creating provocative dress for Carmen, even as a  factory worker and cowgirl; and (iii) the performer and stage directors.

 

Now for the main course…..

One could not take their eyes or ears off the stunning (vocally and visually) Mezzo Micaela Aldridge when she was on stage. While her amazing voice was no surprise to this writer, her acting chops blew us away….. there was not an emotion that was not strikingly conveyed to the audience with her eyes, facial expressions, and body movements. No wonder Don Jose (the accomplished Lyric tenor Jeremy Blossey)  and the other characters (male and female) were captivated by her.

 

We will leave to another time our views about how, ( despite first impressions) Don Jose was no victim of a vixen. His cruelty and lack of morality to the blameless Micaela (beautifully performed by soprano Lu Huang) as well as his lack of concern for his mother or military duties, cannot be lain at the feet of Carmen…

 

There are two sets of leads, who split the four scheduled performances…….and if we could we would see their performances as well.   Hopefully, Rutgers will offer  another opportunity to enjoy them.

© meche kroop

 

 

 

 

 

PLAYS WELL WITH OTHERS

Carlos Martinez, Elizabeth Pope, and Saul Ibarra Ramos

Last night's recital was presented at Juilliard as partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Masters of Music being awarded to Saul Ibarra Ramos for his achievements in the field of collaborative piano. Our experience in the field of collaborative piano is rather limited to the  particular aspect in connection with the voice. German lieder are our bread and butter. It was for this reason that we dropped everything to hear this excellent recital.

Carrying the vocal part was the lovely soprano Elizabeth Pope whom we have enjoyed on prior occasions and who just so happens to be married to the pianist. We admit we are particularly interested in couples in this field with respect to how well they seem to pick up on each other's cues and also because we feel a concern for their future careers which can pull them in two separate directions or to two distant venues. Like everything else in life, there are pluses and minuses, rewards and risks

Let us focus now on the positives. The first half of the program featured Ms. Pope singing a selection of lieder in German, a song cycle in French, and an American song unknown to us.  Of major interest was an 1832 setting by Franz Lachner of a text by Heinrich Heine that we immediately recognized as having been set by Robert Schumann in 1840 as part of his cycle Dichterliebe. 

We are always surprised by the various interpretations different composers can give to the same text. Whereas Schumann's "Mein Traum" is rather engraved in our memory, we found interest in Lachner's setting which was new to us. Mr. Ibarra Ramos lent emphasis to the pulsing piano which made us think of the poet's pounding heart, whilst Ms. Pope affected a pianissimo dream like aspect which gradually built to a climax.

In a similar situation, Charles Ives set Heine's "Ich grolle nicht" while a student at Yale at the end of the 19th century. Lovers of lieder will of course recognize this lied as also belonging to Schumann's Dichterliebe and may recall the poet's rage and irony toward the woman who broke his heart. On the other hand, Ives (who probably never set another German text) portrayed the poet in a more wistful light, so well captured by our pianist and singer. We might add that Ms. Pope's soprano instrument has a bright clear tone and that her stage presence is inviting. In Liszt's "In Liebeslust" we liked the way she decorated the vocal line on the phrase "Ich liebe dich".  (We might hope for a little more consistency in the final "ch" but that is a small matter and easily rectified.)

A cycle of songs by Francis Poulenc entitled Calligrammes carried us in a different direction and revealed more delights in Ms. Pope's vocal technique and the delicate balance between her vocal line and the piano. "L'Espionne" revealed strength in the lower register. "Mutation" revealed the grim colors of despair over WWII. "Vers le sud" had our two artists giving warmth and gentleness to the love song, as we might have expected. "Il pleut" offered some racing figures in the piano. "La grâce exilée" involved a mood of resignation whereas "Aussi bien que les cigales" came across as a firm lecture. The concluding "Voyage" conveyed a suspenseful and wistful mood.

The remainder of the program gives us less to address. Our knowledge of piano music extends to what we have learned to play--Beethoven's "Fur Elise" and some easy pieces by Chopin. The dense texture of Rachmaninoff's Etudes-tableaux, from which Mr. Ibarra Ramos played "Appasionato", rather overwhelmed us as it sounded like an orchestra. We liked the rapid figures in the upper register and the peaceful ending after all that passion!

The final work on the program was Violin Sonata No. 1 by  Prokofiev in which our pianist's sensitivity toward the vocal line was directed now toward the excellent violinist Carlos Martinez. Our pianist gave an interesting brief talk about Prokofiev's energetic and unpretentious personality, explaining that this work was composed toward the end of his life when his health was compromised. The four movements alternated Andante with Allegro and it was a wild ride indeed between the two tempi.

Our knowledge of Prokofiev is confined to his programmatic score for the ballet Romeo and Juliet which is so filled with danceable rhythms and memorable melodies that we wind up humming for days afterward. This exposure to another side of the composer was surprising to say the least. It was a tour de force for Mr. Ibarra Ramos and also demonstrated some interesting techniques on the violin. What we heard as a glissando was really some legato bowing of a rapidly fingered scale passage.

An encore piece was played without a break. It was Prokofiev's arrangement of a Bach chorale and left us with a welcome feeling of peace after the tumultuous Sonata. Within our limited knowledge of most of the repertoire It seems to us that  Mr. Ibarra Ramos has a gift for listening to his musical partners and responding. That gift should carry him a long way in his career

© meche kroop

 

LACHEN UND WEINEN

 Yura Jang, Alejandro De Los Santos, and Enes Pektas

The title we chose for this review is not a reference to the Schubert lied of the same name. No indeed. It refers to the powerful range of emotions we experienced listening to an all-too-short recital by baritone Enes Pektas. We review vocal recitals several times a week and we usually find them enjoyable and make note of the things we like about a singer's technique

However, there are times that the technique is so flawless that it recedes into the background and this permits us to focus on artistry. We were initially surprised to learn that singers cannot have the luxury of experiencing the feelings; rather they must act as a conduit or medium, conveying the feelings of the composer and poet to the members of the audience. At this, Mr. Pektas is, at this early stage of his career, already an expert.

The recital program was well designed to show off Mr. Pektas' facility with lieder as well as opera. The opening, not mentioned on the program, was especially effective due to the surprise. With superb Italianate style and appropriate gestures, he inhabited the role of Figaro in Rossini's Il barbiere di Siviglia, delivering the "Largo al Factotum" with engaging personality.

The formal program began with an incredibly powerful performance of Mahler's Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen. This is in our top three favorite song cycles and woe betide the singer who doesn't capture all the phases of emotion in the text. Coming across as totally immersed in the suffering of lost love, it is difficult to believe how an artist can convey all that without bursting into tears.  

Well, Dear Reader, that is artistry. Our eyes filled with tears at the memory of lost love and we felt the burning knife in our very own breast! We were so lost in the emotion of the performance, that there was only one subtlety that stood out. On the word "leid", stretched out over a descending then ascending three-note scale passage, each syllable was delivered marcato, as if the poet (Mahler himself) were gasping for breath. We couldn't help thinking about how Alma made Gustav suffer. We hope Mr. Pektas never experiences such suffering. For us, a an audience member, it was cathartic.

There were three Russian songs on the program, two by Modest Mussorgsky, one of our favorite Russian composers. So successful was Mr. Pektas' performance that one didn't need to understand Russian. "Where are you, little star?" was filled with depth of feeling achieved by means of vocal coloration. "Song of the Flea", by contrast, was frisky and humorous. The third was a folk song that is filled with Russian passion, given its full measure by the artist.  The translation is "Dark Eyes"; we know it as "Oci Ciornie".  Unfortunately we don't have a Cyrillic keyboard so that is phonetic

As comfortable with opera as with lieder, Mr. Pektas gave us more of Figaro, in this case, the Act I duet "All'idea di quel metalllo" In which the rascal concocts a plan to help Count Almavivo (here played by the fine young tenor Louis Lee) to win the hand of Rosina. Mr. Pektas' eyes lit up greedily as he cajoled money from the Count. His facility with the rapid fire patter served him well.

Following, to close the program (all too soon), we had more bel canto singing. The third act duet from Donizetti's Don Pasquale between Dr. Malatesta (Mr. Pektas) and Don Pasquale (guest artist bass-baritone Alejandro de los Santos) was a fine way to end the program. "Cheti, cheti, immantinente" may not be the most famous baritone-bass baritone duet but it served to show off two fine singers who are also grand comic actors.

To the disappointment of the audience, the loudly demanded encore had not been prepared.  Indeed, Mr. Pektas seemed surprised that we wanted more of him. It was decided among the two singers and the excellent pianist Yura Jung to give us a recap of the Donizetti which seemed to satisfy everyone

It was a rare experience to feel so satisfied by a recital and yet to be wanting even more. We felt guilty like Figaro wanting more from the Count! This recital was given to satisfy the requirements for the degree of Master of Music from Mannes School of Music. How appropriate is that title!  Mr. Pektas is indeed a master of music with a fine career ahead of him. Here's a secret tip. Watch out for an upcoming performance of Puccini's Il Tabarro by Classic Lyric Arts Vocal Academy.

© meche kroop