July was my month in the sun with the stars, interposing myself in the manner of Woody Allen’s holy fool alongside the likes of Benny and Harriet Andersson, and more recently the great Maggi Hambling. I'd decided to hang fire on that particular Zelig snap until she approved it, offering in the meanwhile a shot from her website of the glorious and, bizarrely, controversial Britten memorial scallop on Aldeburgh beach. But now I have the green light, rather against myself because this is the most flattering image of Maggi out of the three and the least so of me:
I knew I’d adore La Hambling in person ever since I caught her on some eighties TV art quiz alongside her late mate George Melly, getting away with a statement along the lines of ‘the blue of that Claude sky is like the sensation of being in love’, and on Desert Island Discs she was so human and likeable. As indeed are Maggi and her partner (and fine fellow-artist) Tory Lawrence in person - even if her expansive rendition of ‘Getting to know you’ chez nous caused one among us to quote the immortal singing teacher's line ‘make friends with the pitch, dear’.
To this momentous supper and the Swedomania I ought to add recent glimpses off-duty of Sir Charles Mackerras, who’s always been like a great professor giving me a private tutorial in every interview I’ve had with him, coming out of the Gents at the Albert Hall Door 9 last night - he was there, I guess, to see 'his' Scottish Chamber Orchestra in action - and of Jiri Belohlavek eating an interval ice-cream in the arena on the previous evening (though whether he was promming for the concert itself I don’t know).
July was also selig, blessed (from which of course comes our ‘silly’ via Chaucerian English). I met those greats and was able to bring others close to me along to enjoy their company too. I got to know Dvorak's Rusalka as a masterpiece of the first order preparing for the pre-performance talk, and the Glyndebourne production along with its Falstaff and the Trafalgar screening of Barbiere were as near to perfection as anything I’ve seen. I saw a possibly long-lasting new play, participated in a high profile discussion (can't resist another prod in the direction of the Radio 3 webcast, if you haven't already seen it) and, towards the end of the month, heard some music at the Proms I’ve never heard live before.
First there was Martinu, and then Mendelssohn. He’s been much on my mind since I fell in love all over again with his Overture The Fair Melusine. I was following the road to Rusalka via Undine from the French Melusine myth as re-told by medieval chronicler Jean d'Arras. Here Guillebert de Mets in 1410 illuminates the scene of the heroine’s fishy tail discovered as she bathes by her noble suitor.
No prizes for hearing the influence of Melusine’s rippling clarinet water-music on Wagner’s Rhine and its daughters, who I gather started the whole Mariinsky shebang on Wednesday in poor style (for catastrophic reports, try the Independent's Michael Church – though he adored the Keith Warner version, which suggests I wouldn’t necessarily agree with him – and this blog entry with tags including ‘Mariinsky Ring’ and ‘total disaster’).
Anyway, the Proms’ concern was not with the watery-mythic side of Mendelssohn but his Lutheran celebrations, some of these linked to Luther's 'Ein feste Burg’.
On Thursday Elder and the Halle gave us the Second Symphony, with its extended ‘Lobgesang’ Cantata. Of course there was a certain Proms splendour about the massed forces, as pictured for Radio 3 by Chris Christodoulou:
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The Halle shed a certain heaviness in the intermezzo and made noble work of the slow movement, but despite ardent singing from Sally Matthews and Steve Davislim, there was no concealing the fact that the chorus-and-soloists stuff seemed to bring out religious squareness in sweet-natured Felix. Still, the combined Halle choral forces poured their heart and soul into ‘Nun danket alle Gott’. The first half started with a slightly earthbound Berlioz Benvenuto Cellini Overture, which nonetheless kindled happy memories of the 72-year old Ghiaurov as Berlioz's Pope in Zurich, and continued with Susan Graham striking statuesque poses as Cleopatra. Oh look, the BBC's man Christodoulou was there to snap her too:
The regal maroon dress was duly noted, and the big coiffure, which put me in mind of Kitty Kelley on Nancy Reagan: ‘if she fell to the ground, her hair would break’. Graham pressed all the right buttons with style, but the real glory of this early piece belongs to the orchestral dying shudders, and Berlioz never delivers one of his eternal melodies.
The real Mendelssohn revelation came yesterday, another chance to catch up with a musical sensation. Musicality oozes from every pore of the young and small-but-perfectly-formed Yannick Nezet-Seguin. As with Nelsons, the BBC and Christodoulou gave me the option of 'sweet' or 'monster' shots, so why not have them both?
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Ed Seckerson broke the mostly-musicals thread of his blog to praise the YNS Bruckner 7 with the LPO earlier this year, and I now know what all the fuss has been about.
First, a digression. I didn’t expect to be able to take it all in, frankly, having been steeped throughout the day in the magic of Tristan at Glyndebourne from 10.30am to 5pm: the last ‘orchestra and stage’ rehearsal, the only one I’ll be able to catch, and a real performance from what I could tell. It’s bad luck and poor form to talk about these things in detail before they’ve opened – first night is 6 August. I’ll just say that I had several extra-terrestrial experiences in the second act - not just from 'O sink hernieder' onwards - and at the end. I’ll think of more to say about it later this month in tandem with another Wagnerian theme I’ve had up my sleeve for ages. Anyway, out of the hauntingly-lit night of Lehnhoff’s production we came into another blazing summer day by the lake. The meadow zones are thriving (it's the time of the now-ubiquitous but still glorious verbena bonariensis)
and Rusalka’s realm at Glyndebourne is as magical as ever.
But to return to the 'Reformation': frankly YNS could conduct the telephone directory and make it seem the very essence of vitality. But in any case Mendelssohn does lay forth some good things here: the ethereal Dresden amen so well known from Wagner's Parsifal, an irresistibly buoyant scherzo with a lilting trio that lifted me sky-high, and a short and noble slow movement followed by a finale based on ‘Ein feste Burg’. While I’d prommed on Thursday, I and my wonderfully alert, if markedly pregnant, friend for the day needed seats after our Sussex runaround (we got to the Albert Hall with three minutes to spare); but I promptly rose to my feet for YNS and the superb Scottish Chamber Orchestra at the end. They also gave us a fresh-as-paint Stravinsky Pulcinella, carefully blending the antique with the modern, and a curious Schumann Piano Concerto where Nicholas Angelich’s bell-like piano sound, projecting into the spaces of the hall, won me over to an interpretation playing fast and loose with the rubato.
There was a chance of catching the Mariinsky Gotterdammerung today. I'm sure there were good things in it. But I thought it was best to end the recent feast on a high of unsurpassable musical quality, so I didn't (catch it, that is) and I've no regrets.
Sunday morning - it sounds like the MGM musicals Prom was much more fun. I'm listening to it at the moment: John Wilson's superband sounds lush indeed and Kim Criswell is consummate as always. Later - just hit the High Society strand, and it's almost as good as the originals; though who could quite be Sinatra and Crosby? Here's Grace with Frank:
The experience is as good a way as any of reminding everyone that we have the enormous privilege of accessing any Prom, any time, for the week after the initial broadcast.
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28 comments:
Glad you're broad-minded enough to enjoy the MGM spectacular. Can't remember such joy in the Albert Hall since the Simon Bolivars were here.
Listen, Jim, musicals were mother's milk to me (that alliteration just came out, sorry). First film: Mary Poppins, first stage musical: Sound of Music. The home collection was mostly Andy Williams, Perry Como and most of the Rogers and Hammerstein musicals.
BTW, though I love High Society, I adore The Philadelphia Story even more. My desert island Hollywood film (now come on, Cary Grant AND the adorable young Jimmy Stewart AND Katherine Hepburn in one movie?)
Rodgers, sorry, I know, I know.
Greetings!:
I enjoyed Sir Charles's performance of _The_ _Planets_ quite much, notably some of the things he did in "Mars," e.g., the little timpani accents in the opening bars, and, during a slow passage in the middle of the movement, the alternating trumpet triplets seeming to anticipate the menacing figure in the Second Movement of VW's _Sixth_ _Symphony_ from some 20 years later. The return of the opening, on full orchestra, was appropriately menacing. His account of _Cockaigne_ seemed less straightforward as per rubato than on his recording, but regretably the big three accents in the military-band episode did not seem to be there, though they are in the earlier account. Additionally, some now-traditional rubato was introduced into the following quiet band episode, which neither Sir Charles nor the composer include in their recordings. Yet overall this performance was full of much good spirit.
Mendelssohn's _Lobgesang_ is a work I have known and loved for some 40 years, and, overall, Sir Mark's account of it may have been the finest I have yet heard! Based on the recent _BUILDING_-_A_-_Library_ feature on this work and a little checking of the score done for me, it appears that he followed the composer's metronome markings at least fairly scrupulously, along with the dynamics in the opening stanza of "Nun Danket Alle Gott!" This led to a quicker rendering of the Introduction than is the norm these days, and the main body of the First Movement went at _QUITE_ a lick, as did Miss Matthews' first solo in the Cantata, thus having her sound a bit pressed for time, though _MAYBE_ that was part of her exstasy at praising God. There could be no question as to the Scherzo being Allegretto Un Poco Agitato, and the Adagio Religioso also seemed to be "bang-on" as per tempo, a special favourite movement of mine! Orchestral balances seemed fine throughout, e.g., in the chorale-like Trio of the Scherzo. And then those Halle Choirs again, nearly, if not entirely, as superb as I felt they were in Sir Mark's _Gerontius_! I do not think I have ever heard a more-thrilling "Die Nacht Ist Vergangen!" I personally felt Miss Matthews and her colleague's voices were a bit too full/operatic for this work, and Mr. Davislim's (one wonders why they changed from the originally-scheduled Mr. Auty, who I was looking forward to hearing as an adult singer for the first time) a bit too light, but all seemed musical and expressive, and Mr. Davislim gave what he could to that great question-and-answer section in "Stricke Des Todes." Sitting here at the computer, somewhat back from the speakers, I was unable to conclusively determine if Sir Mark was following his apparently-normal practice of seating his violins antiphonally, as it seems Mendelssohn would have done, but I certainly hope he did! I additionally hope he will wish, and will be able, to record this Symphony!
More soon, as your system will not allow my complete message due to length.
J. V.
Continuing with my above comment, until yesterday, Maestro Nezet-Seguin was familiar to me in name only, but now I understand why you praise him so much! He started off this _Reformation_ without string vibrato, but this returned later in the First Movement. _THANK_ _GOD_ if appropriate, he did _NOT_ slacken the tempo for the Second Subject, as Sir Roger Norrington does in his Stuttgart performance, since this is Mendelssohn, not Brahms! Yet both conductors may be the only ones in my experience to follow this composer's stringendo poco a poco indication near the end of the Development, interpreting it as a gradual accelerando, though Sir Roger may have done more of this in a live Boston performance than on his recording (I wrote to him after Boston, and he told me of the mark in his reply). I especially liked the wind phrasing in the Trio of the Scherzo, including some non-legato that I may not have heard before and is not in the two recordings of this work which I have, though I _MIGHT_ have misrecalled a few such passages in this Proms performance. Surprisingly Sir Roger, given his tendency to introduce some rubato into Mendelssohn, keeps a fairly-steady tempo in the Third Movement, whereas Maestro Nezet-Seguin introduced rubato. We know that Mendelssohn favoured rather-strict tempi when conducting, but did he admire the conducting of any who were just a bit more elastic with these in his music? I think I could have done with just a bit more bite from lower instruments in the latter stages of "Ein Feste Burg," and regret not having a score to find out what Mendelssohn asks for as per tempi and metronome marks in the transition into, and the main body of, the Finale. This performance did not fully surpass my current favourite, the Commissiona/Baltimore Symphony, but it came quite close, if not equalling it after a manner, though somewhat different.
Does not Sir Thomas sound _WONDERFUL_ for his age?! He and Miss Fox had me in tears during "Stranger In Paradise," and he really _DID_ hit a G above Middle C or two in "Lover, Come Back To Me!" To be sure, we did not entirely have Sinatra and Crosby in the "swell-party" number, but the Sinatra sound-alike came fairly close at least. They also did quite well with "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire," even getting virtually all of the original expression! I joined the proceedings during that barn-dance number from _Seven_ _Brides_ _For_ _Seven_ _Brothers_, which I had not heard previously, and _REALLY_ enjoyed that as well!
Hoping, as usual, that this finds all of you well, and with renewed best wishes,
J. V.
Now listen to the 'Reformation', JV, and tell me if that isn't one of the most alive Mendelssohn performances you've ever heard?
Oh, and JV, one thing Elder DIDN'T adhere to was the attacca from the slow movement into the vocal portion - I know this because Peter Avis was promming beside me with a vocal score, and he turned, pointed and frowned. And, of course, it SHOULD go straight on.
The second half of your essay came in after I'd given that advice about YNS. You, of course, know these works far better than I do, so it's interesting to know what was ideal and what was not. All I know is that it sold the Reformation to me completely, whereas I was only keen on the inner orchestral movements of No. 2.
I was not specifically aware of that attacca indication, thanking you _VERY_ much, but feel it would work well since the introduction to the Cantata is accompanied by that rhythmic figure from the middle of the Adagio. Even if it were not there, the gap was _MUCH_ too long in my opinion, and the smattering of applause near its beginning had me thinking that perhaps the soloists were entering. Otherwise, at that point in the programme, is there _ANY_ reason for such a gap since it does detract from the building of tension into that _WONDERFUL_, again in my opinion at least, opening chorus? I think there was also another unnecessarily-long gap, either between "Nun Danket Alle Gott" and the following duet or between that latter and the final chorus, almost-certainly the former.
I hope I do not forget to listen to the _First_ _Symphony_ since, while it is far from the most-original thing Mendelssohn ever wrote, I personally find it delightful nonetheless, with, I think, some flashes of real Mendelssohn among all that Classicism. I especially like its slow movement.
J. V.
From Alan Tattum
I read your comments on John Eliot Gardiner's Bach Pilgrimage in your last blog; I too have enjoyed some of the recordings which he has made on his own label Soli Deo Gloria of this. But have you heard any of the Bach Collegium Japan's recordings of the Bach Cantatas conducted by Masaaki Suzuki? In some ways they have a refinement and searching quality which the Gardiner, with all its verve and excitement, sometimes lacks.
Sincerely
Alan Tattum
ps Masaaki Suzuki and the Bach Collegium Japan have also done a fine recording of the B Minor Mass, a few years ago.
Yes, Alan, I have - the year I was on the BBC Music Magzine awards panel, we had tons of five-star Bach cantatas to listen to. I love the spring of Suzuki's band, but I seem to remember the soloists didn't compare so well. But they vary on all the series- some of JEG's aren't so good. Koopman came off verz well then.
In haste,
David
Having become sort of attached, you might say, to the one-singer-on-a-part school of Bach performance, I may not be quite as keen on choral Bach as I once was, though some such performances can still be effective. I _VERY_-much enjoy Sir John's recording of _Cantata_ _159_, with Mr. Harvey's _WONDERFUL_, in my opinion, performance of its bass aria, "Es Ist Vollbracht," as fine a non-standard Bach gem as I know! Sir John takes this at quite a slow tempo, but I think it still _WORKS_! I have also somewhat enjoyed some of Maestro Suzuki's Bach, and even have his recording of the earlier version of _Cantata_ _21_, though have only spot-sampled it thus far. I would like to hear more of the new _B_-_Minor_ _Mass_, with Miss Crowe Et Al, and also wish for a viable one-singer-on-a-part _Christmas_ _Oratorio_.
J. V.
And while we are on this choral-music tack, have you perchance heard Sir Charles's Australian recording of Beethoven's _Missa_ _Solemnis_? The orchestra partially drowns the chorus in places, but it is now my favourite performance. Is there a more-exciting close to the Gloria on record?! As did Maestro Klemperer and some period-instrument conductors, Sir Charles follows the score by having the Pleni and first Hosanna sung by the solo quartet instead of the chorus. And these basically-unknown singers give much, including a fine opening to the Agnus Dei by the bass! This recording is on the ABC Classics Label.
J. V.
I'm sure that would be quite an experience, JV. I'm looking forward hugely to catching Sir Charles's Haydn Seven Last Words in Edinburgh, though owing to bad timing I may only make a rehearsal.
His Fidelio and Beethoven 9 are my idea of how these works ought to move, without being bogged down in Klemperesque grandeur.
I'd also like to hear again Belohlavek's BBCSO Missa Solemnis, which was the only time I've sat through the whole thing spellbound.
Which Beethoven _Nine_, the Liverpool/EMI or the Philharmonia/Hyperion? I think the First and Third Movements may fare _MARGINALLY_ better in Liverpool, though Sir Charles's bit of rubato near the end of the latter from Edinburgh is not as exagerated as it sounded to me during the broadcast. I also think his transition into the Trio of the Scherzo marginally more interesting from Liverpool, more conventional from Edinburgh. As much of a favourite as Mr. Terfel is for me, I personally find the Edinburgh bass, despite some wobble, more expressive in the opening recitative of that famous Finale, and the chorus more vivid. I have been playing the Edinburgh during my December Beethoven cycle since it came out.
I also like the vividness of Sir Charles's _Fidelio_, though some of the singing, as singing, may not always be of the very-highest order, though I like the characterization, and the limited cuts in the dialogue. If I recall this correctly, I was told that both of the lead singers had health issues at varying times during the sessions, and some of them had to be re-scheduled for later, at apparently-significant expense. Mr. Rolfe-Johnson sounds somewhat strained during some of the great Act-II monologue, and I confess to not being certain if it is his health, or else the music's difficulty, which is the primary factor. Have you ever heard a more-exciting _Leonore_ _No._ _3_?!
I may have only heard a little of the choral version of the _Seven_ _Last_ _Words_, but have heard a bit more of the string-quartet version. I am debating as to whether or not to pass on Maestro Christie's _Judas_ _Maccabaeus_ since, despite his musicality, I usually do not care for that conductor's Handel.
Should you seek and find Sir Charles's _Missa_ _Solemnis_, I hope you can also sit through that spellbound!
J. V.
The RLPO Beethoven 9 is the only one of Mackerras's I know. Iwas lucky to experience his Beethoven Fidelio live in the Barbican with the superlative Christine Brewer. The one performance of his I'd most like to have released is the Philharmonic recording of Elgar 2.
Sir Charles's Beethoven-Symphony cycle from the Edinburgh Festival a few years ago was also released on Cd, on Hyperion. His overall approach seems similar to that adopted in Liverpool, though the SCO and, in the _Ninth_, Philharmonia strings play with less vibrato than the RLPO strings do. Overall I personally prefer this later cycle, but, in a few instances, e.g., the First Movement of _Five_ and aspects of the _Ninth_ I have already cited, the RLPO seems to carry the day by a small margin.
Miss Brewer is doubtless, for me at least, a better overall singer than the Leonore on Sir Charles's Telarc recording of _Fidelio_, but their Edinburgh performance together was less-complete than the studio recording was. Another blogger with whom I correspond plans to hear her in Gluck's _Alceste_ in Santa Fe this Summer.
As I wrote in 2005, some described Sir Charles's approach to the First Movement of Elgar _Two_ with the Philharmonia as being broad, but if it had, as you described it to me, "perfect, thrusting tempo for the First Movement, the Funeral March done in one, long, beautiful line and the right kind of Brahmsian glow at the end," then _THAT_ is the sort of performance I would have wished to have heard as well, his Argo recording also being my current favourite! Do you know if some sort of archival or other recording was made of that Festival-Hall performance so that, if possible, we might eventually have it? I would be curious at least to hear his 2000 Edinburgh _Messiah_ and his 1993 _Christmas_ _Oratorio_, both presumably with the SCO, another being a more-recent _Creation_ with that orchestra and La Gritton, again if any or all of these were recorded.
J. V.
Dear David Nice
I am a keen reader of your blog;I was interested to read your comparisons of the John Eliot Gardiner Bach with the Masaaki Suzuki, in response to Alan Tattum's comment. My experience has them exactly the other way around, with the Gardiner full of zest and spring, while the Suzuki seemed slightly more introspective. I heard them perform the B Minor Mass at the hall of the Jesuit Church In Boston in 2003 and they, the Coll Japan, were brilliant. I was taken aback by your remark about the soloists; if anything, I thought the Collegium Japan stronger on this point. However, bear in mind that more than a hadful of soloists perform on BOTH cycles, I think I'm right in saying, so the variation/permutation between the cycles gets complicated.
Yours Simon Merton
ps I couldn't help noticing the charming looks of your god-daughter Evie in previous blogs. Is Evie already an eligible debutante, or still to young for all that? I am a law graduate of Christ Church Oxford, not bad-looking (so I'm told) and with a rosy future ahead of me, Deo Volente. She could do worse, a lot worse.
Mr Merton, the nerve of it! This is no dating agency. Nor are we living in another age, so the news that my charming goddaughter is fifteen going on sixteen would be enough to put a stop to your reveries, unless - like a gentleman of a different era - you wish to remain steadfast for a decade.
_OUCH_!, but _SPOT_-_ON_ the mark nonetheless!
Now bring on _Patience_!
J. V.
p.s. I must seek out and listen to Mendelssohn _One_ before I forget and it disappears.
From MrAnthony Noel Baker
The Bach Collegium Japan certainly wins on sheer quality of recording, being entirely SACD. I listened to the series on a Yamaha SACD player with Krell pre-amp and Rogers speakers and the density of sound was much greater than the John Eliot Gardiner. Soli Deo Gloria should take note.
I too was charmed by the fine looks of your goddaughter Evie but was much too gentlemanly(ie.shy)to say anything earlier.
Sincerely
Anthony Noel Baker
Ah, a Noel Baker - so can I return the gentlemanly remark and say that the fair Irene NB, fellow student in the classics library, DHT, Edinburgh, I much admired - but in a purely platonic, idealised form, like all the muses of the female sex at that time. Any relation? Coincidentally, or not, she married that excellent Bach interpreter Michael Chance...
JV, bring on Patience indeed: would that I could be there, but I shan't be returning to Proms until a glut next week, so like you I shall have to be content with hearing it on iPlayer.
I asked Sir Charles whether there was any chance of the recorded Savoy operettas cycle continuing and he seemed to think not, since Telarc found the ones they did with him hadn´t sold well. He did say that of the ones left he really most wanted to record Iolanthe, though I'd like a Princess Ida from him with, say, Renee Fleming as the Princess (why not? 'O Goddess wise' is a big sing.
In the meantime I shall enjoy another Big Musical Event which I'll tell you all about next week.
from Mr Anthony Noel Baker,
to Mr David Nice.
I am sorry to say that I am not directly related to the great Noel-Baker clan of academics, statesmen and top military figures. Interestingly many people have asked me if I am connected to Irene, always remarking on her beauty as well. Well, sadly not, but she sounds like the Zuleika Dobson de nos jours.
Unlike me, you really do move in the most celestially high social circles, David!
I always enjoy reading your blog, and wish I had half your energy in cultural activities etc
Best wishes
Anthony Noel Baker
Anyone would think I swanned around with none but the most distinguished and titled, Anthony. This can only be reinforced by the last time I asked a poster if she was related to Lucy Maxwell-Stuart.
Ah, all the double barrelled names...I assure you my friends and acquaintances are a healthy mix, and 'Zuleika' Noel-Baker just happened to be a fellow student, though always a delightful one in the company of the wonderful Sophia Hutchins (where is SHE now, I wonder? Last heard of marrying a Greek fisherman).
Anyway, I'm back from an over-sensational fortnight zipping between Zurich and Vienna, and the time has come to collect my thoughts together for the blog...
Sir Charles's Proms _Patience_ seems to have garnered universal critical praise, and, while I at first found the delivery of the dialogue a bit "over the top," a re-checking of the first? stereo D'Oyly Carte recording on the evening before showed that they too exagerated a bit, presumably bringing out how aesthetically-minded people talked in those days. A correspondent of mine who attended felt the chorus tuning a bit off in "Twenty Lovesick Maidens We," but I feel virtually certain that any colouristic oddities, etc., in that chorus were meant to bring out that very lovesickness! The amateur musicologist in me was _MOST_ grateful that, so far as I could tell, _NO_ changes were made to Gilbert's text, and one review was clear that all costumes and stage effects were of his period, not some dreadful, at least in my opinion, updating! Do we still need you when you're 65? _YES_, we do, _MISS_ _PALMER_! We _INDEED_ are fortunate to have at least three 60-plus singers in our time who still seem to be on top, Sir Thomas and Segnor Domingo being the other two! The Colonel, Mr. Maxwell if I am not mistaken, reminded me a bit of the late Mr. Donald Adams, though there are differences. The two principal aesthetics seemed on good form, as did the other women. I read at least one objection to Patience's Northern accent in her dialogue, but I did not find this objectionable since she, as the village milkmaid, was presumably of lower class than the rest. One hopes that Sir Charles is not doing further damage to that rotator cuff which he tore around 1997 by all this ebulliant conducting, but this was _CERTAINLY_ a lively, idiomatic reading of Sullivan's score! I agree with the critic who wrote of the staging and costumes that, were it somehow possible, some record executive should be ushering these forces into the recording studio!
This next comes from an earlier thread, but I have just received my copy of the Muti _Traviata_, and indeed there are things here which are not in the Mackerras, e.g., not one as expected, but _TWO_ second verses omitted from cavatinas, and two repeats at least omitted from cabalettas. One online English libretto I found seems to follow Mackerras, but the _ENO_ _Guide_ for this opera is available for loan in Braille, and thus, since those libretti are usually complete, I may need to borrow that unless, when checking the little insert with this recording, it refers me to a relevant online libretto. From what I have heard thus far, Miss Scotto may be a bit "past it" as you and others say, though not overly-objectionably so. And, dare I ask it, are the cadenzas in, say, "sempre Libera," and other ornaments throughout this performance, exactly as Verdi wrote them, Maestro Muti having hit upon the purist approach he would later controversially adopt in his _Trovatore_ by the time he made this recording, as an earlier comment from you suggests?
Looking forward to what you have to say about your just-completed journey,
J. V.
I'll be tuning in to the Patience when I have a moment, looking forward to it.
I would never be so ungracious as to actually accuse Scotto of being 'past it', though there are elements of that. All is redeemed, for me, by her intensity - and since she's in better shape than Callas frequently was, I prefer her in many of those roles.
Can't confirm further about the ornamentations, but Muti is certainly strict. I just heard his Rigoletto, where he doesn't even allow the Duke the customary flourish at the end of 'La donna e mobile'. And I must say I miss that.
I recall a customer on Amazon saying that Sir Georg follows Verdi's score in Rigoletto scrupulously (my wording), and the traditional cadenzas are indeed there in "La Donna e Mobile." So, speculating for now, they must have been in a presumably-older edition he was using, whereas, if this opera has now been published in a new critical edition, those flourishes have been omitted there. This could conceivably have been the case in the Muti _Traviata_ as well. So we are left to wonder whether or not Verdi's reputed statement that one could add high C's in "Di Quella Pira" provided they were good ones, which could impact upon other decisions re ornamentation in his operas, is apocryphal, as I seem to recall one writer suggesting.
J. V.
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