WITH HONORS TO ALL

Michal Biel, Cody Quattlebaum, Chris Reynolds, and Samantha Hankey

Juilliard Vocal Arts Honors Recitals are always a treat. Singers are nominated by their voice teachers and then audition for a panel of judges. One of the judges for this recital was Paul Appleby and if anyone knows what makes a good recitalist it is he. The interesting feature of these recitals is that the singers select their own program, presumably with the help of their respective pianists. Sometimes one hears rarely heard masterpieces.

The first half of the program was given to notable bass-baritone Cody Quattlebaum whom we have so greatly enjoyed on the operatic stage. Those who thrilled to his Figaro and his Mephistopheles at the Metropolitan Opera National Council Finals last Sunday would have been astonished last night with his artistry and versatility as a song recitalist.

Although we adore the Ravel cycle Don Quichotte a Dulcinee,  Jacques Ibert composed his own cycle in 1931, three years before Ravel composed his.  We were thrilled to be introduced to Chansons de Don Quichotte; they are not better but they are surely equal in value. Mr. Quattlebaum performed them in perfect French with sonorous vocalism and heightened dramatic impact.

It seems a paradox but Mr. Quattlebaum's tone can be exciting and soothing at the same time--and always pleasing to the ear. There is a marvelous vibrato at the lower end of the register and his voice expanded to fill Alice Tully Hall. The first song, "Chanson du depart de Don Quichotte" set text by Pierre de Ronsard and the other three songs set text by Alexandre Arnoux.  There is a prominent vocalise in "Chanson a Dulcinee" which Mr. Quattlebaum enjoyed as much as we did. He assumed a different persona for "Chanson du duc" and exhibited a vastly different vocal color for "Chanson de la mort de Don Quichotte" that moved us deeply. We particularly liked the dynamic variety from pp to ff.

Collaborative pianist Michal Biel was right with him all the way, as he was for the subsequent Drei Lieder nach Gedichten von Michelangelo by Hugo Wolf. His piano echoed the singer's powerful presence and established a feeling of portent. The performance was superb but they will never be among our favorite songs, nor will Wolf's setting of Goethe's "Grenzen der Menschheit" which achieved stunning intensity. There was a tender passage that moved us however, and Mr, Quattlebaum's German was as fine as his French.

The final set comprised Cuatro Canciones sobre Textos Gallegos by Anton Garcia-Abril, a 20h c. Spanish composer and musician who is best known for composing sound tracks for movies, especially "spaghetti Westerns". His cycle was uncharacteristically melodic, both in the vocal line and in the piano writing. We enjoyed it for its accessibility and the pleasing sound of Spanish which Mr. Quattlebaum handled as well as the French and German.

The second half of the evening was performed by mezzo-soprano Samantha Hankey, a highly musical artist whom we keep liking more and more every time we hear her.  It has been only four days since she won the Met National Council Award with some marvelous Mozart and terrific Tchaikovsky. What impressed us most about last night's performance was how well she used her body to underscore the feeling of the song--something that had not struck us previously.

We have always perceived her, however, as centered and poised, making ample use of vocal color to convey the feeling of the text. Her voice literally soared in Franz Liszt's settings of Goethe's text and her expressiveness achieved new heights. It was quite a coincidence that she sang a wide selection of Robert Schumann's Ruckert lieder, several of which we reviewed last night, sung by soprano Miah Persson. It was fascinating to hear the subtle differences in interpretation. 

We particularly enjoyed "Der Himmel hat eine Trane geweint" in which an oyster captures a tear from heaven and creates a pearl which it shelters. The metaphor of pain and desire was beautifully expressed. Another favorite was the ecstatic "Widmung".

When Ms. Hankey sang "Aus den ostlichen Rosen" we could see and smell the roses; the piano of Chris Reynolds conveyed all the sweetness of the sentiment. In "Flugel! Flugel!" Ms. Hankey's voice soared along with Icarus' flight.  It is a lengthy song and offered many opportunities for variations in color. Mr. Reynold's turbulent piano conveyed the fall of Icarus with profound anguish. 

A half dozen songs by Richard Strauss brought the splendid recital to a fine close. Everyone remarks about Strauss' writing for the soprano but we had no problem with Ms. Hankey taking on these songs. The messa di voce in "Waldseligkeit" was delicate and Mr. Reynold's piano limned the rustling of the leaves.

We particularly enjoyed the light-hearted "Einerlei" in which the lover confronts the paradox of familiarity and novelty.  In "Schlechtes Wetter", Ms. Hankey told a tender tale whilst Mr. Reynold's piano let fly with a storm.

If we were to add one element to these excellent recitals it would be the projection of titles. Not everyone in the audience speaks all those language and looking down at the translations in the program takes one away from the immediacy of the experience.  The four artists onstage merited our full attention.

(c) meche kroop

GALLIC GLORY AT MSM

Bryn Holdsworth as Andromède

Yeon Jung Lee as Le Feu and Amy Yarham as L'Enfant

It was a night of sheer delight spent with Manhattan School of Music Opera Theater. Credit for this extraordinary success must be attributed to the clever direction of renowned James Robinson, who told the tales with originality that was still true to the origins of the two works; to the beautifully balanced sound of the conservatory's orchestra under the baton of Pierre Vallet; and, above all, to the superb singing and acting of the young artists, mainly graduate level students.

The wisely chosen program comprised two French works of note, the first of which, Jacques Ibert's 1924 Persée et Andromède, has never before been performed in the United States, and the second of which, Maurice Ravel's 1925 L'Enfant et les Sortilèges, we have enjoyed on several prior occasions.

Ibert's librettist "Nino" (a pen name for his brother-in-law Michel Veber) turned the tale of Perseus' rescue of Andromeda on its head. In the myth, she has been chained to a rock as a sacrifice (long story!) and dreams of being rescued from the monster Cathos by a great hero.  Perseus arrives on a winged horse (Pegasus), slays the monster, and carries her off to live happily ever after (sort of).

In Nino's libretto, Perseus is so arrogant when he kills Cathos that Andromeda realizes that she has loved the monster all along and declines to leave with Perseus. Pining over Cathos, her grief brings him back to life as a handsome prince.

But wait! Mr. Robinson's concept is that this all takes place in a French museum with a reproduction of Cesari's 1596 painting of the legend occupying pride of place, flanked by supposed studies for the work. The museum guard must ride herd on a group of uniformed schoolgirls who get too close to the velvet rope and a mother with her two obstreperous children.

A beautiful redhead enters and lies writhing on a bench as she dreams of, what else, a romantic encounter. Soprano Bryn Holdsworth, whom we have written about before, sang with terrific tone and acted with conviction. She even convinced us that she was a natural redhead, so well did she embody her character.  And that's acting! It was a stellar performance, marked by some fine French diction, coached by Bénédicte Jourdois.

The superbly coached schoolgirls acted as Greek chorus, commenting on and giggling over the sleeping Andromeda, just as schoolgirls would. What an inspired concept! Chorus Master Daniela Candillari must have worked very hard to achieve this success.

As the museum guard, bass Hidenori Inoue, was peevish but far from a monster. He serenaded Andromeda with full round tone and tried to ease her boredom with stories and symbolic chess games.

Tenor Taehwan Ku made a humorously arrogant Perseus, waving a silk scarf with an image of Medusa imprinted, in place of the Gorgon's head. The "monster" was not intimidated.

Allen Moyer's set was a fine recreation of a museum while Paul Palazzo's lighting contributed a great deal, adding glowing warmth to the arrival of Perseus. James Schuette's costumes were consistently mid-20th c. and Tom Watson's hair and makeup design was apt.

And oh, that music! Much of it was impressionistic and shimmered with painterly colors, sounding just right for the setting. That made the climactic moment of crescendo all that more affecting. We were curious about the placement of the harps off to one side, and the percussion off to the other. Whatever the reason, it sounded sensational.

Ravel's charming work L'Enfant et Les Sortilèges started life as a ballet with a book by Colette; but this baby had a decade long gestation, finally achieving the stage in Monte Carlo in 1925. It is a favorite of music conservatories since it employs a large cast. It tells the tale of a naughty boy who treats people, animals, and furniture with equal contempt.

When the aforementioned furniture comes to life and turns against him, and the animals speak to him of their suffering, he learns compassion. It is a wonderful lesson for children, but also for adults. Behavior has consequences!

As the eponymous child, Australian mezzo-soprano Amy Yarham sang with beautiful inflected phrasing and easily understood French; moreover she created a most believable little boy bored with his homework, throwing a tantrum of destruction to retaliate against his mother.

The entire cast was excellent and we hesitate to single out only a few but we were struck by the precise coloratura of soprano Yeon Jung Lee who created a lot of heat with her red-sequined gown as well as her singing.

The audience loved the pair of fighting cats--mezzo Rachel Stewart and Christopher Stockslager and the linguistic hijinks of Emma Mansell's Chinese Cup and Gregory Giovine's Teapot.

We have always enjoyed Noragh Devlin who enacted a matronly looking mother, in high mid-20th c. style.  And Michael Gracco's Grandfather Clock created a striking image.

 Again, the sets and costumes were terrific.

Ravel's music for this work is highly eclectic and benefits enormously from a most colorful orchestration. The MSM Orchestra captured every nuance.

(c) meche kroop

OUR WINDMILLS HAVE BEEN TILTED

Babette Hierholzer, Robert Osborne, Lydia Ciaputa, and Conor Chinitz

We were trying to figure out why we were lately hearing so much music related to the character of Don Quixote and learned that this is the 400th anniversary of the publication of Part II of Miguel Cervantes' masterpiece. This figure has inspired choreographers and composers since the work was published. Obviously the word "quixotic" came from the eponymous character.

Last night in the grand hall of The Hispanic Society, against a backdrop of centuries of Spanish art, bass-baritone Robert Osborne brought this character to musical life in an involving and ultimately moving program which he conceived and created--a program entitled Don Quixote in Music.

The first part of the program was devoted to the 1712 cantata by Jean-Baptiste Morin entitled Dom Quixotte which Mr. Osborne sang in French, so clearly enunciated that we understood every word. Accompanied by violinist Judson Griffin playing an instrument as old as the Cervantes' work (!), cellist David Bakamjian, and harpsichordist Alexandra Snyder Dunbar, his rich voice was well employed in the descriptive recitativi, 

The arias, on the other hand, seemed to be the very words spoken by Don Q. Following a lovely theme in the violin, the section "Mort de Dom Quixotte" seemed to be in march tempo. The sad effects were achieved by color without a trace of sentimentality.

The second half of the program was more dramatic as Mr. Osborne was assisted into some very authentic appearing armor and cape by Sancho Panza, portrayed by Conor Chinitz. When he donned the helmet and picked up the halberd, he looked astonishingly like Don Q. himself. With his sharply chiseled features he cut a fine figure.

Alternating works by several composers, both vocal and instrumental, followed a line from the hero's departure through to his death. Interestingly none of the works were written in Spanish although some Spanish composers have composed such works.

We greatly enjoyed the early 20th c. songs by Jacques Ibert, particularly the "Chanson du départ" which had a distinctly Spanish flavor, as did his lovely "Chanson à Dulcinée".

Maurice Ravel's "Chanson à boire" lent a note of comic relief.  It's a rowdy song we never tire of hearing and it was fun seeing our hero passing out on the floor.  In contrast, Mr. Osborne delivered the moving and spiritual "Chanson épique" on his knees in prayerful pose.

Selections from Jules Massenet's late opera, the 1910 Don Quichotte, a comédie-héroïque, included the "Sérénade de Don Quichotte" in which accompanying pianist Babette Hierholzer effectively brought out the octave tremoli. The final scene of his death was most effectively rendered in "Écoute, mon ami, je me sens bien malade". Although she appeared only briefly as Dulcinée, singing from the balcony above, soprano Lydia Ciaputa sounded ethereal while Conor Chinitz sounded earthy as Sancho Panza.

The only music that didn't seem to advance the plot much was that composed by the 11-year-old Erich Wolfgang Korngold. There was nothing about these instrumental pieces that seemed related to the story but they did give evidence of the success that lay down the road and, more importantly, let us enjoy the fine playing of Ms. Hierholzer.

This was the second time this week that we have enjoyed a work created to tell a story, using a pastiche of music.(See review entitled Discovering Mrs. Rossini.). It is a marvelous genre, one which we thoroughly enjoyed and hope to hear more of.

As we exited the gorgeous Hispanic Society building we smiled at the statue of our hero casting a shadow on the wall

(c) meche kroop