JUILLIARD HONORS BERNSTEIN AT CARNEGIE HALL

Onstage at Carnegie Hall:  Ryan McKinny, Aubrey Allicock, Paul Appleby, Amanda Lynn Bottoms, Naomi Louisa O'Connell, and Meghan Kasanders

It's aways gratifying to see a woman on the podium and last night's celebration of the Bernstein centennial put the renowned Marin Alsop up there to conduct an interesting program, which will be followed by a symposium today in Paul Hall at Juilliard from 3:00 to 6:00 PM. Maestro Alsop (a Juilliard alumna) is not only a fine conductor, judging by the sound of the always excellent Juilliard Orchestra, but a guiding light to the singers, as expressed by the singers themselves. Her presence on the podium was the right choice since she was one of Bernstein's best known pupils.

The part of the program we wish to focus on is Bernstein's Songfest, a compilation of a dozen songs, each from a different poet. Our enjoyment of the songs lay more in the performances than in the songs themselves. Our appreciation for "modern" poetry and the kind of music it inspires is somewhat deficient but our appreciation for a good delivery is unmatched. It seems to us that the training at Juilliard helps a singer to make sense of even the nonsensical. For this, we credit Steven Blier who has coached these singers (all students or alumni of Juilliard) for his New York Festival of Song. Last year at NYFOS we hear this Bernstein cycle reduced for piano by John Musto.

Unlike his tuneful and rhythmic music for Candide and West Side Story, many of the texts Bernstein set appear uninteresting on the page and don't seem to want to be set to music.  There were a few exceptions.

The 17th c. American poet Ann Bradstreet wrote an encomium to her spouse "To My Dear and Loving Husband", the rhyme scheme and rhythm of which inspired Bernstein to write our favorite selection of the dozen. Sung by soprano Meghan Kasanders and mezzo-sopranos Naomi Louisa O'Connell and Amanda Lynn Bottoms, the many layers of love and adoration filled our heart with joy, and maybe even a touch of envy for such all-encompassing adoration. This is a song we want to hear again and again.

Another song we enjoyed was the Edna St. Vincent Millay sonnet "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed".  Although Ms. Millay belongs clearly to the 20th c. the sonnet rhymes and scans and was a worthy candidate for setting. To hear it performed by Ms. Bottoms was an emotional experience, reminding one of the pain of loss. The metaphor of a lonely winter tree from which all the birds have flown was powerful.

Gertrude Stein's "Storyette H. M." although written in Stein's customary repetitive manner, made sense through the dramatic performance by Ms. Kasanders as the one who was left and bass Ryann McKinny as the one who was leaving. What an effective couple they made!

Ms. Kasanders had a strong solo in "A Julia de Burgos" which was sung in Spanish and invested with Latin rhythms as well.

The versatile tenor Paul Appleby has a way of interpreting contemporary American songs that sets him apart. We have no idea what Gregory Corso's "Zizi's Lament" meant by "laughing sickness", but no matter; the delivery was filled with humor and Bernstein employed a sinuously exotic melody to suggest  the Middle East. Bernstein's orchestration provided plenty of "laughing figures".

Mr. McKinny performed Walt Whitman's "To What You Said" against a background of plaintive strings. Ms. O'Connell performed Conrad Aiken's lament "Music I Heard with You" accompanied by a gorgeous harp solo. Their splendid voices fell beautifully on the ear.

We couldn't call the duet of baritone Aubrey Allicock and Ms. Bottoms "color blind" but that's a good thing in our opinion.  Mr. Allicock performed Langston Hughes "I, Too, Sing America" interweaved with Ms. Bottoms performance of June Jordan's "Okay 'Negroes'" was affecting. What was going through our head was the progress toward true equality that the poets could not imagine. Of course there is more work to be done in this area but progress is encouraging.

Mr. Allicock's solo "The Pennycandystore Beyond the El" tried to make something musical of the Lawrence Ferlinghetti text and succeeded beyond our expectations.

The ensemble of six sounded especially fine together, even in the odd Frank O'Hara text "To the Poem". Even odder was "if you can't eat you got to" with some wonderful sounds emanating from the tuba. Closing the set was Edgar Allan Poe's lengthy paean to the spirit "Israfel" who produces heavenly music, much like Orpheus.

We think of these six singers as incarnations of Orpheus!

(c) meche kroop

ENDING WITH A WHIMPER, NOT A BANG

The Santa Fe Opera Chorus in Doctor Atomic (photo by Ken Howard for Santa Fe Opera)

It would have been wonderful if the onstage nuclear scientists waiting for detonation of the atom bomb at Los Alamos had been accompanied by a real live storm but there was only a brief shower. We reflected upon the night at the Santa Fe Opera when the final scene of Verdi's Rigoletto was accompanied by real thunder and lightning, making for one exciting operatic experience.

Well, Doctor Atomic is no Rigoletto and John Adams is no Verdi; we doubt that audiences will be clamoring for this work in the 22nd c. However, if we accept the message of the evening, there may be no 22nd c. The part of the evening we enjoyed the most was the pre-opera lecture by Director Peter Sellars in which he made some very good points about the nuclear age and why he chose to present it as contemporary, with Gabriel Berry's costumes belonging to our present day. Although we strongly disagree we enjoyed hearing his rationale. 

We enjoyed even more the talks we heard from three of the Downwinders--an elderly woman, her daughter, and her niece--all suffering from crippling anxiety related to the decimation of their family by cancer, a consequence of the 1945 detonation of the world's first atomic bomb. Apparently, the government's fund to compensate the victims of fallout and radiation has not been extended to New Mexicans, a condition the Downwinders have been fighting for several years. The stories they shared were terribly tragic. The government did not evacuate them for fear the press would find out that "something was going on".

The production of Doctor Atomic, taking place just a stone's throw from Los Alamos, seemed to be a risk for the Santa Fe Opera but they put all their resources behind it and succeeded in selling out the entire run. Not only did we get to hear the voices of the afflicted but we got to watch members of nearby pueblos performing a corn dance onstage, a form of prayer for healing and for water to nourish their corn crop. The stage was filled with Downwinders who probably had as many tragic tales to tell as the three we heard in the lecture.

Our desire to learn about this tragedy created by the military/science complex was not matched by an appreciation for the opera itself, in spite of some stellar performances by artists we know and love. This lack of affection for the work is not due to the fact that it is political.  Verdi himself wrote several operas with political themes, both overt and covert.  But he did so with glorious music and singable melodies.

Although there were a few moments when Adams' orchestral colors pleased our ears, for the most part the music is harsh and dissonant. Peter Sellars' libretto is nothing if not "wordy". The text was derived from government documents, wire-tapped conversations, surveillance reports, first-person accounts, scientific data, and poetry loved by the Oppenheimers; none of it is singable, nor is the vocal line melodic in any way, shape, or form.

The fact that the voices were amplified, as Adams stipulated, did nothing to enhance the listening experience. NATO would describe the opera--No Action Talk Only.  There is only the conversation about the Manhattan Project, the waiting, and the concern with the weather. Emily Johnson's choreography involved some highly generic modern dance to give the illusion of movement--eye candy that was more sour than sweet. David Gropman's set was bare, save for a huge suspended reflecting ball.

Now that we got the negatives off our chest, let us relate the positives, which involve some pretty swell performances. Bass-baritone Ryan McKinny establishsed the complex character of Dr. J. Robert Oppenheimer whilst the exceptional soprano Julia Bullock excelled at limning the character of his neglected wife Kitty. Most of her singing involved texts of poet Muriel Rukeyser which was abstract to the point of incoherence. We have written that Ms. Bullock could sing the phone book.  This came close.

In the sympathetic role of the physicist Robert Wilson, tenor Ben Bliss' youthful timbre was just right for the part. His "aria" whilst climbing to the top of the tower was probably the most musical part of the opera.

Contralto Meredith Arwady lent her distinctive sound to the role of Pasqualita, Kitty's Tewa housekeeper. Her singing of a Tewa native song was rather more listener-friendly. 

General Leslie Groves was the U.S. Army Commander of the Manhattan Project, a demanding, aggressive, and overweight man; bass-baritone Daniel Okulitch got the first two qualities just right but the banter about his weight and his diet didn't make sense since Mr. Okulitch is admirably fit. 

Bass Andrew Harris portrayed the physicist Edward Teller and baritone Tim Mix took the part of the chief meteorologist for the Trinity test site. General Groves was casting shade on him for not producing better weather!  

Apprentice Mackenzie Gotcher lent his tenor to the voice of Capt. James Nolan who, as chief of the post hospital at Los Alamos, expressed concern for the well-being of the scientists working on the Manhattan Project. Most enjoyable for us was the chorus composed of Apprentice Singers. They blended onstage with the Downwinders and provided some visual as well as aural interest. 

The evening ended with a standing ovation, dear readers, so our comments are not meant as a value judgment, rather as the opinion of one opera lover who wants to be entertained. Mr. Sellars' libretto might have made good reading but those words we heard never begged to be set to music. Nor was any provided.

(c) meche kroop

SALOME by STRAUSS

Alex Penda as Salome at Santa Fe Opera (photo by Ken Howard)

We have always thrilled to Richard Strauss' 1905 opera Salome but the current production at the Santa Fe Opera offered a fresh and Freudian interpretation by director Daniel Slater that kept us on the edge of our seat.  Mr. Slater chose to set the opera at the turn of the 20th c. when Freud's ideas about sexuality and the unconscious were still new and shocking but not yet accepted.  The titular character is revealed by some innovative staging to have observed her father's murder at the hands of her uncle Herod, the same tetrarch who now lusts for her.

This is a family right out of Krafft-Ebing. The lascivious tetrarch Herod makes no secret of his lust for his niece. Salome's mother is unsuccessful at reining him in. She believes that Salome wants Jochanaan's head out of loyalty to her because he has been cursing her from his place of imprisonment. It is not difficult to believe that Oscar Wilde penned the scandalous story on which the opera is based.

The air is heavy with lust.  Herod, Salome, and Naraboth, captain of the guard, are all passionate about beauty. Herod and Naraboth are both driven wild with desire for Salome who is similarly driven wild by lust for Jochanaan who is passionate only about his religious beliefs. Her perceived rejection by the prophet leads her to the final mad request for his head. Hell hath no fury, as they say!

The Dance of the Seven Veils, in Mr. Slater's version, has no veils and no nudity. Salome dances for her father using mainly her graceful arms in a most seductive way.  Part of the way through the dance, her mind drifts to her childhood memories of Herod murdering her father and leading her away. (Shades of Hamlet!) Although this is a directorial innovation, it seems right there in the music.

In the role of Salome, Alex Penda shines like the star that she is. She is sufficiently petite in form to convince as an adolescent with a powerful soprano that cuts right through Strauss' sizable orchestra. 

As Herod, tenor Robert Brubaker tackled the high-lying tessitura without strain and injected his character with a real personality--not a sympathetic one but an interesting one. He is clearly at odds with his wife Herodias; he is a bit frightened but also fascinated by Jochanaan and his preaching while Herodias is offended by Jochanaan's attacks on her and wants him eliminated. Mezzo-soprano Michaela Martens fulfilled her role in a most believable way. This is a marriage like many we have seen in contemporary times, a marriage in which husband and wife barely tolerate one another

Bass-baritone Ryan McKinny made a swell Jochanaan with his resonant portentous instrument.  He does not appear as a filthy starving prisoner chained in a cistern, but rather an intellectual writing at a desk in a room of the palace.  This of course goes a long way toward helping us understand Salome's attraction to his white skin, black hair and red lips.

The opera opens with tenor Brian Jagde as Captain of the Guard mooning over "die Prinzessin Salome".  Pun intended. He compares her to the moon. Page Megan Marino tries to talk him out of it. He kills himself when he realizes that she is lusting after the prophet and not him.  Mr. Jagde's singing was filled with luster and passion; we were sorry to lose him so early in the opera!

Just as Shakespeare provided comic relief in his tragedies, Salome provided a few giggles in the form of five Jews arguing theology. We were delighted to see several of our favorite apprentices in these roles: Christopher Trapani, Roy Hage, Cullen Gandy, Aaron Short, and Kevin Thompson. Nicholas Brownlee and Tyler Putnam appeared as soldiers.

We could not have asked for a better conductor than David Robertson who captured the passionate sweep of Strauss' thrilling music. Although this opera scandalized audiences at the time of it's premiere, it established Strauss' career as a composer of operas. The work has earned its place in the canon.

Set and Costume Design by Leslie Travers worked out well. We particularly liked Salome's virginal white dress and Herodias' elaborate gown. The men all wore military uniforms, replete with sashes, epaulettes and emblems. This only struck us as peculiar on the bodies of the five Jews!  Who knew that Jews were so honored in fin de siecle Austria!

(c) meche kroop

ARIA vs. LIED

Ken Noda, Amanda Majeski, and Ryan McKinny

In an all-too-brief George London Foundation for Singers recital at the Morgan Library yesterday we had the opportunity to hear a program in which both singers, soprano Amanda Majeski and bass-baritone Ryan McKinny, were able to exhibit their talents in both opera and in lieder.  Significantly, each chose an aria from an opera in which they recently starred.

Ms. Majeski has had quite a success singing the role of Vitellia in Mozart's La Clemenza di Tito--both at Semperoper Dresden and at Teatro Real in Madrid.  Luckily for us, she performed the character's final aria "Ecco il punto, o Vitellia...No piu di fiori" in which the manipulative woman finally examines her conscience and decides to confess her guilt to avoid the death of her loyal friend Sesto.  Ms. Majeski threw herself into this role heart and soul.

We heard Ms. Majeski when she won a George London award a few years ago; we heard her again in Santa Fe in 2011 when she sang Ottone in Vivaldi's Griselda, in which she was the highlight of a deplorable production. Yesterday she sang with all the involvement that we missed when she stepped into the role of Countess Almaviva in Mozart's Nozze di Figaro.  In this case we found her dramatically moving, tracing Vitellia's evolution from one mood to the next.  Her embellishments were as lovely as they were in the Vivaldi.  We heard a lot of power in the lower register and a big blooming top.

Equally impressive was her encore--"Song to the Moon" from Dvořak's Russalka.  She also sang three songs by Richard Strauss, including our favorite "Die Nacht".  Although suffering from some kind of vocal distress, it was barely noticeable as she employed word coloring and dynamic variety to augment the fine resonance of her sizable instrument.

It was during the Strauss that we most appreciated the artistry of collaborative pianist Ken Noda.  Always supportive and never overwhelming, he seems to sing along with the singer through his fingers.

Also a George London Foundation winner, bass-baritone Ryan McKinny is a most versatile artist, known in many genres but not heard often enough in New York.  He wisely chose to sing "Die Frist ist um" from Richard Wagner's Der fliegende Holländer, a role he succeeded in at the Glimmerglass Festival.  We Wagnerphiles in the audience were blown away.  His voice has power and nuance in equal measure; he painted the aural picture of a desperate man at the end of his rope.

He also excelled in the opening piece on the program "Bravo, signor padrone!...Se vuol ballare" which he sang with vocal subtlety and dramatic energy, creating the Figaro character we all know and love.

That is why we were puzzled by his duet with Ms M. "Das war sehr gut, Mandryka".  This scene is the culmination of a stressed-out courtship and we desperately wanted Mandryka to just look at Arabella; if he wasn't feeling it, we weren't feeling it.

Their encore duet from the close of Act I of Rodgers and Hammerstein's Carousel was nicely sung but Mr. McKinny as Bill again did not relate to Ms. Majeski's Julie.  He sang ardently but he sang it to the audience, not to his stage partner.  How odd!

His solo performance of three selections from Schubert's Schwanengesang was powerful; the tender but passionate "Ständchen" was followed by the lugubrious "Der Atlas" and the anguished "Der Doppelgänger". We cannot recall ever hearing an American singer with such perfect German diction.  He should be teaching a master class!  Every umlaut was observed, every final consonant enunciated, every diphthong clear.

Speaking of master classes, we are overjoyed that Mr. Noda supplements his many other duties and accomplishments by giving masterclasses at Juilliard and coaching young singers in the Lindemann Young Artist Development Program.

We are already witnessing the results; anyone under his tutelage bears evidence of his genius.  He gives the piano part the same colors as the singer gives the words.  We are mystified about how this is achieved but the mystery is part of the magnificence.

ⓒ meche kroop