November 3rd, 2013: Vienna Boys Choir

Yesterday evening's concert of the Vienna Boys Choir was very entertaining, and also contained a lot of beautiful music. The choir splits up into four groups to go touring, and the one I saw last night was the "Bruckner" choir, which doesn't mean they sing Bruckner, it's just the name they got. In addition to commenting on the performances throughout the evening there's going to be a short discussion on race, culture and assimilation for reasons you'll soon see.

The choir of twenty-four boys came on stage from opposite ends in groups of thirteen and eleven, respectively, and took up their spots on little risers on either side of a grand piano that was positioned with its lid closed and the keys facing the audience. The thirteen boys on the left were all white. The eleven boys on the right consisted of seven white, two black, one Asian and one middle-eastern. This was to be expected, and I assumed they were all born in Europe and are Europeans just like the rest of them, with ethnic heritage that happens to be from different parts of the world. However it didn't turn out to be that simple, as we'll find out.

A fellow named Manolo Cagnin was the choirmaster for the evening, and this guy was on fire. You can't get more intense than he was without looking like you're actually having a seizure. He sat down at the piano and immediately kicked off "O Fortuna" from Carmina Burana, by Carl Orff. He slammed the first notes on the piano, and his big swath of blond hair thrashed about as he pounded away and emphatically mouthed the words to the choir. The sound of the choir was initially slightly underwhelming naturally, especially starting with a piece like that that we're used to hearing with a massive vocal ensemble. This was only twenty-four boys, so there was a limit to what kind of sound they could produce. I got accustomed to it quickly though.

During the Orff I noticed that the middle-eastern boy and the Asian boy, who were situated in front of one another on the far right-hand side of the choir, didn't seem to be as into it as the rest. In fact, they often looked lost, as if struggling to remember the words. The Asian boy also had a symbol that he would crash during the Orff, and one of the boys on the left side of the piano had a little drum thing that he would beat during that piece as well.

After the first piece was over, Cagnin got up from the piano and spoke to the audience. He spoke about how the first half of the program will be mostly classical repertoire, and the second half will become "more fun" with polkas, waltzes and some pop music and folk songs. He even said something like "I hope the first half won't be too boring" in a humorous tone.

The pieces that followed were gorgeous. Classical, mostly religious music by Eybler, Haydn, Victoria, Schubert and Mascagni comprised most of the first half of the program. The boys voices were angelic, revealing clearly the beautiful classical harmonies and counterpoints in the pieces. In the first or second piece following the Orff, the littlest boy in the choir had some incredible solos. I had actually already noticed him during the Orff; he had the appearance of a prodigy. An extremely bright, competent and thoughtful little fellow, who was also adorable. He couldn't have been older than eight. He sang his solos with absolute purity and clear intent. His voice was like a bell, filling the auditorium completely. After that piece ended he stepped forward for a bow and got wild applause and shouts of approval from the audience.

Once several of the classical pieces had gone by, Cagnin again took the microphone and told the audience that the next three pieces were written specifically for the Vienna Boys 'Bruckner' Choir. They were certainly more modern sounding than the previous several works, but they were beautiful and did not get too dissonant. The first half closed with a "Jubilate Deo" by Heinz Kratochwil, which I don't believe was one of the three songs written for the choir.

After intermission, the second half immediately took on a different energy. They began with "Éljen a Magyar" by Johann Strauss, Jr. and Rudolf Effenberger, which was a wonderful, more upbeat piece. They ended it with a shout. Then came "The Sound of Silence" by Paul Simon, the first real pop song on the program. I recognized the song, and I suppose it's one of the nicer pop songs out there, but it still felt a little out of place to me. Then came "Oh Happy Day" which as you probably know is a gospel tune. Let's get back to the race, culture and assimilation issue now.

It was evident from the beginning of the program that the two boys of African decent in the choir had a very different timber to their voices than did the rest of the choir. This should be no surprise to anybody; they do have different voices. So that alone begs the question: What does "Vienna" in "Vienna Boys Choir" mean? The choir has been around for half a millennium, and the boys of Vienna have a particular sound to their voices that African boys do not have. If the choir had become entirely African, it simply wouldn't sound like what we'd think of as a Viennese choir anymore, even if they were all raised in Vienna. What is the tipping point?

During the first half I had no quarrels with the presence of that complimentary timber from the two black boys. It actually thickened the texture of the choir and added an additional dimension. The clear, bell-like sound of the white boys entirely by themselves would have been just a bit more hollow without the additional texture brought by those of African decent. And with the difference in their voice being an entirely physical thing, it's not as if being raised in Austria and assimilating to Austrian culture could change that.

But then came "Oh Happy Day," a gospel tune, sung in a gospel style, and the taller of the two black boys had a solo in it. Why? If this is a Viennese choir and race is only skin deep, why insert music of a more African style simply because there are two people in the choir who happen to be of African ethnicity? What does their ethnicity matter? Are they not Viennese like the rest? Does culture transcend race or not?

Perhaps it was something on the part of the Viennese. Perhaps they decided that since there are two black boys in the choir, that they ought to give them something "from their culture," even though that's not their culture. This is definitely a very realistic possibility; a white society assuming that someone who isn't white will desire a connection to a different culture. It happens all the time here in America. In any case, I am very curious how it was that cultural assimilation failed to happen in the case of this choir. A Viennese choir is a Viennese choir. Race is a purely physical thing and should not affect the culture of the ensemble.

In any case, the tall black boy stepped forward after the song with his solo, and got an exuberant ovation from the audience. He looked at the choirmaster with a "whoa" look on his face as the shouts and applause hit him. Then they sang a tune from the film "As It Is in Heaven," followed by a tune by the band Abba called "Thank You for the Music," which I again recognized.

By this point there had been a few instances of boys leaving the stage abruptly as soon as a song ends, and sometimes returning before the next song starts, and sometimes not. A couple boys left right after the Abba song, and returned with a music stand and one of them carrying a little oboe. There was an oboe/soprano duet with one of the boys in the song "Nel blu dipinto di blu" by Domenico Modugno. It's a pretty famous tune I believe, it was very familiar to me.

After that, about eight boys from the left side of the piano took off and exited the stage. Cagnin spoke to the audience about how the boy with the oboe had come to him and asked if they could sometimes play instruments on stage, because they're always singing and it gets old sometimes. Cagnin said something to the effect of "I thought, it's dangerous, but it could work. And the next day…" and then he gestured to the herd of boys returning to the stage carrying a trombone, two trumpets and a violin. The audience loved it, and admittedly it was pretty entertaining. I don't know why they had eight or nine boys leave to come back with four instruments though, but it did initially create the illusion that there were more than four instruments.

They then played "Nella fantasia" from the film The Mission by Ennio Morricone. It was an incredibly simple piece, consisting mostly of I V I chords, which seemed to be all that the boys could play on their instruments. It was a gag, that's all. 

The rest of the program consisted of a few more folk tunes, and then got into some Strauss waltzes, which are classic Viennese repertoire. This is Johann Strauss, Jr. mind you, not the famous Richard Strauss. 

The adorable little boy got another even more impressive solo at one point, after which Cagnin gave him a hi-five and the audience gave him a partial standing ovation. What happened next was kind of amusing. Cagnin needed to bring the applause to an end so they could continue the program, and so he sat down and abruptly started the next piece. It was a really fast one with the choir entering almost immediately after the piano begins, and Cagnin hadn't turned to the right page in his book before starting, so he was fumbling trying to turn the pages after having already started, and the piece fell apart. He stopped playing, made a very quick "cutoff" gesture to the choir, and started the piece again.

One of my favorite parts of the evening, which happened towards the end of the concert, was when the adorable little soloist guy gave out a few shouts and hoots during a song. He was situated in the back row of singers at this point, and out of nowhere he made these festive sounds that I can't even describe. It was absolutely priceless.

At the end of the program the audience gave a complete standing ovation, and when Cagnin gave them a "one more?" look and gesture, they roared with approval, and he sat down at the piano to lead one more song. This song turned out to be another upbeat, almost-gospel style tune in which the tall black boy had an even longer solo than before, again not in Viennese style at all. And after that was over, the audience's applause showed that they wanted still more, but Cagnin made a sleeping gesture to them, indicating that the boys have an early bedtime, and the concert came to an end.

In summary and conclusion, it was a lovely concert. I wish that they had sung more classical, religious music though, and I don't feel that they should be relying on gags like the instrument thing in order to make their concerts memorable. The classical works in the first half were gorgeous; if they had just sung works like that throughout, that should have left a profound impression on the audience. No need to resort to circus antics. Also, this was to be expected, but Cagnin's piano playing was rather unpracticed. It was that sort of desperate sight-reading style of playing where notes are regularly missing and the main focus is on keeping the tempo up to speed and steady. I'm sure he doesn't have time to practice, nor is there much of a need to, since the voices of the choir are the focus of the audience. His playing served its purpose.

Also, this is really random, but I spotted Seattle Symphony principal oboist Ben Hausmann sitting across the way in Box B. I was actually really happy to see that, to see a symphony member take the time to go to a concert. Normally they just don't get around to it because they're playing concerts all the time.

Next up is Mahler's 6th Symphony on November 9th!

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http://www.seattlesymphony.org/symphony/buy/single/production.aspx?id=14453&src=t&dateid=14453

November 3rd, 2013: Chamber series: Beethoven & Piazzolla

I have just returned from this afternoon chamber music concert, and am going to try to write up my review within the next hour before I leave again to hear the Vienna Boys Choir at 7:00pm.

This was the first chamber music recital I'd ever been to featuring Seattle Symphony musicians, and it was quite excellent. It was in the upstairs recital hall rather than the main concert hall, and it featured a wide variety of music. The program opened with the Quintette instrumental by Hector Villa-Lobos, followed by the String Quartet in D major, Op. 18 No. 3, by Beethoven. This concluded the first half. In the second half there was a Concertino for Flute, Viola and Double Bass by Erwin Schulhoff, which was followed by a piece called Cafetín de Buenos Aires for six cellos by Mariano Mores, arranged by Thomas-Mifune. Then came La muerte del ángel and Resurrectión del ángel by Ástor Piazzolla, which was succeeded by Messagesquisse by Pierre Boulez, and then the final piece was the Aria (Cantelina) from Bachianas Brasilerias, No. 5, again by Villa-Lobos.

Principal cellist Efe Baltacigil was heavily featured throughout the program, which was a great thing. All the musicians chosen to be on the program were excellent though, there was nary a weak link throughout.

The opening piece by Villa-Lobos was not to my taste, but the excellence of the musicianship on stage was immediately evident. It was wonderful to hear just a few of the symphony musicians in a more intimate setting and hear what wonderful musicians they are. The flutist, Paul Taub, I did not recognize though. I don't believe he's a Seattle Symphony flutist, but he was quite good.

For the Beethoven quartet the absolute best musicians were chosen. Principal violinist Alexander Velinzon was on first violin, Efe Baltacigil was on cello, and principal violist Susan Gulkis Assadi and violinist Anait Arutunian rounded out the quartet. Anait was another musician who I don't believe is a symphony regular, but she made a solid complement to Velinzon on first violin. I wasn't too familiar with the Beethoven quartet, which is a crime, but it was played very well and was an engaging experience. I believe it was during the Beethoven that I first noticed a few symptoms of sight-reading syndrome, especially when Efe missed a note and made a face about it. Obviously these musicians don't have time to thoroughly rehearse such a long program, but they did remarkably well in spite of evidently short rehearsal time.

During intermission I sat on this backless couch thing against the wall in the upstairs lobby and closed my eyes for most of the time. I had been kind of tired during the first half because of getting up early to play piano in church, so I thought maybe I could catch a quick turbo-boost during intermission. I didn't fall asleep, but I think it helped.

The second half began with the Schulhoff concertino, which felt dreadfully long to me, and it sort of clumps in my mind with the opening Villa-Lobos in that I failed to connect with it at all. It was inspired by a visit to a Slavic folk festival though, so it did have some lovely folk-like melodies and dances in it.

The last four pieces on the program really made the afternoon spectacular. Six Seattle Symphony cellists came out to perform the Mores, which was a gorgeous tango, made even more beautiful by the acoustics of six cellos playing it. It was the most enjoyable time I had had yet during the recital. The program listed the Boulez as following the Mores, and Efe came out to talk to the audience about what they were playing and also to announce that the Piazzolla and Boulez were being switched around.

A quartet of cellists performed the two works by Piazzolla. I really love Piazzolla's music. His tangos are just irresistible. The two that they performed today were no exception. The seductive harmonies and rhythms cannot fail to draw you in and move you. It seemed the musicians were enjoying this music immensely as well, particularly Efe, who spoke with love about these pieces in particular in a video that the Symphony featured on their Facebook page in the last few days.

Then came the Boulez, which Efe, during his little talk after the Mores, essentially apologized for, saying "it's challenging but effective. And it's only about ten minutes, so don't worry." However, I found his apology to be unnecessary, as the piece was quite engaging. Obviously it wasn't exactly music, but it was quite interesting and kept my attention. Efe was the soloist for the work, sitting in front of the other cellists, which earned him a shove onto the stage by himself from the rest of the ensemble after they had all taken their first bow and exited. The audience was very enthusiastic about it, giving it an ovation at least as strong as the other works on the program.

And last came the second piece by Villa-Lobos, which was the exact opposite of the first one to my ears. This one spoke directly to me, piercing right to my core with its haunting lines, pulsing rhythms, and that melody that is one of those "how did he do it?" revelations. For this work Emma McGrath performed as a singer in front of the cello section. Emma McGrath is the Associate Concertmaster of the Seattle Symphony, and apparently she is also trained as a singer. The experience of seeing this aria performed by her and those cellists is something I will never forget. It was beyond breathtaking. It was just absolutely heart-wrenching, haunting and impactful. I gave a standing ovation for that performance along with pretty much every other person in that auditorium. It was really something.

And now I'm going to take a ten minute nap, grab some dinner, and head out to hear the Vienna Boys Choir!

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http://www.seattlesymphony.org/symphony/buy/single/production.aspx?id=13831&src=t&dateid=13831

October 28th, 2013: Organ series: Stephen Cleobury

I decided to go to this organ recital at Benaroya Hall on the evening of Monday, October 28th. I had never heard the Watjen Concert Organ in a solo recital, and there was Bach, Mendelssohn and Schumann on the program, so I figured it would be nice. Stephen Cleobury was the organist, and apparently he's a rather well known British organist who is also the director of the King's College Choir.

I'm not sure why this was the case, but I found myself bored throughout most of the program. The two Bach pieces he played were not famous works and were not among Bach's best. The Mendelssohn was also exactly what you would expect from an unknown Mendelssohn work. I don't know what it was really. I found myself surprised at how unengaged I was. The music was beautiful, and the organ sound was majestic; I just couldn't get very into it for some reason. I did notice that Cleobury seemed to be sight reading a lot of the pieces, and that could have been a factor that contributed to the lack of impact on me. Or perhaps with all the multitasking required on the organ, it always appears as though the performer is sight reading. I don't know.

The most amusing part of the evening was the man who sat next to me in Box B. His facial expression resembled the angel Clarence from It's a Wonderful Life, he had a possessed look in his eyes, and he stank. He kept talking to me before the recital began, explaining to me the difference between an organ with electronic functionality vs. one where the action of pressing the key down directly and physically opens the valves. And he said things like "I've been coming to these recitals since that instrument first spoke. In 2000." I really wouldn't have minded if he didn't stink.

Anyways, the whole program had a kind of progression through time theme to it. The first half went Bach, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Reger. Then the second half started very early again with Couperin, but then went Franck, Vierne and Messiaen. Before the second half began, Cleobury picked up a microphone and spoke to the audience for several minutes. I couldn't understand half of what he said due to a combination of the thick British accent and the fact that I was situated almost directly under the speakers. Clarence next to me seemed to understand every word though.

I found myself drifting into half-asleep states throughout a lot of the performance. I know that the Franck was a very grand, technically impressive piece, and it garnered above average applause. Upon its conclusion Clarence looked at me with an intense gleam in his eye. I heard parts of it, but I was drifting in and out of consciousness at others. It's not that I was even that tired, I just became tired as soon as a piece would be going for a few minutes.

I'm definitely going to be going to another of these organ recitals, because I'm really curious what it was that made me so disengaged on Monday. I want to know if a different organist and different repertoire will make things different.

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http://www.seattlesymphony.org/symphony/buy/single/production.aspx?id=13806&src=t&dateid=13806

October 26th, 2013: Haydn & Tchaikovsky

Last night was the fourth Masterworks concert of the season. Guest conductor Alastair Willis conducted a reduced orchestra in Elgar's Serenade in E minor for Strings, Haydn's Cello Concerto in C major, "Mozart's" 37th symphony and Tchaikovsky's Serenade in C major for Strings. Pavel Gomziakov was soloing on the cello for the Haydn, and "Mozart" is in quotes because as you may know Mozart's 37th symphony is actually a symphony by Michael Haydn, which Mozart wrote a ninety second introduction to.

I had originally planned to opt out of this concert because I was trying to avoid the concerts where the orchestra is reduced due to sharing with the opera. They schedule the year so that the majority of those concerts are in the Mainly Mozart and Baroque & Wine series', but two Masterworks concerts this year also inevitably coincided with opera performances, this being one of them. However, now that I'm going alone to most concerts, I will be going to practically everything since I have a spare ticket from each Masterworks concert to exchange into something else!

Fortunately they managed to keep a great deal of the key string players in Benaroya Hall for this concert. With the Elgar and Tchaikovsky serenades for strings that was probably an obligation on their part. There were very few winds and brass employed throughout the evening, just a flute, a few oboes, a bassoon and some horns.

Alastair Willis opened the concert with the Serenade in E minor for Strings by Elgar. While I was immediately pleased with the lush fullness of the string sound, Willis' conducting was also immediately lacking. I couldn't point to any specifics as I don't know enough about it, but I can say that everything that would make a conductor great in my eyes wasn't there with Willis. He seemed to lack depth, and his gestures and facial expressions seemed almost to be an analogy to something he held in his mind, rather than a direct authentic expression. A fake smile was plastered on his face for much of the time, appearing to be trying to try to invoke excitement or warmth within the players. The tone of the strings was good due to the technical skill of the players, but Willis failed to bring it beyond its base default sound.

Willis is actually a great fan of the Elgar serenade, particularly the slow second movement. But even there, the serious facial expression he gave the orchestra before giving the downbeat seemed more to say "okay, here's the serious one, let's be grave" than to actually invoke graveness. I was ready for this piece to be over long before it was, especially since I'm a fan of the wonderfully light and tuneful Haydn cello concerto, which I believe I became familiar with many years ago when my brother Oliver was learning it.

After the Elgar the stage was reset for the Haydn, and Pavel Gomziakov came on stage followed by Alastair Willis. He took his bow and then situated himself on the customary cello soloist pedestal. And then I sowed my ears shut. Oh wait no, that's what I would have done if I could have seen into the future.

Willis led the orchestra through the orchestral introduction in much the same manner as he led them through the Elgar. His plastered smile was ever-present, and his light and ineffective gestures did little to alter or expand on the default sound of the orchestra. And then Pavel began the first solo section.

It was a joke. It really and truly was a joke. You know how sometimes you might be goofing off in the living room with some instruments, scores and a few friends? You might play things way too fast, too slow, too high, too low, in an exaggerated or humorous manner, etc? Pavel Gomziakov made a mockery out of every single note in the score, twisting it one way or another, accompanied by a comical and exaggerated facial expression. He was the utmost epitome of the 'show business' style of classical music performance which is so prevalent among young rising stars today. I would say he was hot on the heels of Lang Lang in this ghastly pretentiousness, but on further reflection I believe he may have actually usurped Lang Lang from his throne. No note was left alone to simply be played and delivered to the ear, no phrase was executed with a natural expression, the way one might speak, or hum to themselves. Notes that started at ppp, went to fff and returned to ppp within the length of a bow were followed by equally grotesque percussive uses of the bow on shorter notes, which were often accompanied by a facial expression which seemed to suggest walking on eggs or hot coals.

Within seconds of Pavel's first opening in the first movement, I actually inadvertently buried my face in my hand and just waited for it to be over. There was no way to elicit any enjoyment from the music in a situation like this, with the performer constantly snatching it out from under your ear and engaging in a macabre dance with it.

When the final movement finally ended the audience leapt to their feat in exuberant applause. Moments like that really make me think "What's the point? Why are we doing this? Why am I here? Why am I fighting to preserve this art form?" Then intermission began. I wandered about and eventually made my way into the Friends Lounge. I didn't have any tea though. Eventually a young usher guy started talking to me about the first half of the concert. I was very honest about my thoughts, feeling comfortable being so since I only had good things to say about the Seattle Symphony. I had a good little chat with him, and I'll probably bump into him again. I then returned to my seat for the Mozart/Haydn and the Tchaikovsky serenade.

Alastair Willis picked up a microphone before beginning the second half in order to talk about the nature of the Mozart/Haydn symphony. He didn't mention anything about Mozart's superstition about the number thirty-seven being the cause of his avoidance of writing a symphony with that number, but I'm pretty sure that that's the reason he didn't.

The one thing I learned from the talk was that it was Michael Haydn and not Joseph Haydn, whose symphony Mozart used. I had always assumed it was Joseph, but Michael makes more sense. And when I learned that I become more excited about hearing it because I've always been a fan of Michael Haydn's work. However, this particular symphony didn't enchant my ears very much, and I'm not sure whether it was the work or Willis who got in the way of that. The orchestra again sounded solid, and Willis fake smiled a lot, and it was nothing awfully memorable.

The last piece on the program was the Tchaikovsky Serenade for Strings. I wasn't sure if I had ever heard this work before, but I assumed I must have at some point. While it did not sound very familiar to me, I was surprised by how rich and beautiful it was. It had many minor aspects to it even though it was in the key of C major, and the string texture was always very full. Willis seemed to exercise just a bit more command over the orchestra in this piece, and I felt it was the strongest collaboration between conductor and orchestra that the evening had to offer. Even missing several players, the Seattle Symphony string section proved themselves quite well in this work. The last movement in particular really took off, and the fast excited passages near the end were bursting with energy. It's not a piece I'll be listening to again, but it was certainly a convincing performance of it.

Next up is an organ recital I'm going to tomorrow evening!

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http://www.seattlesymphony.org/symphony/buy/single/production.aspx?id=13722&src=t&dateid=13722

October 19th, 2013: The Daughter of the Regiment at the Seattle Opera

Last night was the Opening Night performance of the Seattle Opera's 50th anniversary season. It was Donizetti's comic opera La Fille du Régiment (The Daughter of the Regiment).

I subscribed to two seats for the season, but couldn't find anybody available to come along tonight, so a ghost accompanied the seat next to me, and it turns out they actually quite enjoy opera. In any case, this was also my first time sitting in my subscription seats for an opera performance, and I must say I really like them. In fact, I might not move them at all even if I could afford any seat in the house.

Speight Jenkins took to the stage before the performance began, again receiving a vivacious applause very much like he did during the Ring when he came out to announce that their Brünnhilde was sick. This time when the crowd finally quieted, the first thing he did was to reassure everybody that nobody is sick. Then he acknowledged the opening of the 50th anniversary season, and asked those "charter subscribers" who had been subscribing for all 50 years to stand up. There were two or three of them that I could spot. Quite impressive. After that conductor Yves Abel entered the pit to begin the overture.

I'm semi-familiar with this opera due to the Metropolitan Opera Live in HD performance from a few years ago, with Natalie Dessay playing the role of Marie, the daughter of the regiment. There isn't a lot of really great music in it, but there are some deep moments, and certainly a lot of laughs. Opera houses take many liberties with a piece like this, inserting all kinds of jokes all over the place. Many of the jokes from the Met weren't seen tonight, but there were many new ones cooked up in this production that were nowhere to be found in the Met performance.

The overture was played very well. It's an extremely long, boring overture, but it was played as well as it could be played, and sparkled with life most of the time in spite of itself. Finally the curtain went up on a tavern in Tyrol, where the first act took place.

A regiment of the French army is stationed in Tyrol, led by Sergeant Sulpice (sung by Alexander Hajek). They have amongst them a girl that they found as an infant and brought up to be their daughter. The other principal characters we are introduced to at the beginning are the Marquise of Birkenfeld and her servant, Hortensius. The Marquise is a rich lady who wants to return to her mansion and doesn't bode well with war going on around her. The two of them make a comic duo, played by Joyce Castle and Karl Marx Reyes. Castle was a little bit on the older side, and it was beginning to show in her voice, but she had all the self-expression and humor necessary to make the role come to life. Hortensius was rather dryly interpreted in this production though. He looked a bit like a doctor, and he never engaged in any humor or antics that were extremely memorable.

Marie was sung by an excellent Sarah Coburn, who had a beautiful voice, great technique, and also acted quite well. And Tonio, her lover, was played by Lawrence Brownlee, a young tenor with a wonderful, creamy voice, but who unfortunately was quite a bit shorter than Coburn, making them a slightly awkward pair.

Throughout the first act the cast was all around wonderful, and the orchestra as well. There were absolutely no togetherness issues between the orchestra and singers, which seems to be the norm at the Seattle Opera fortunately. Coburn and Hajek were wonderful in their first duet where they sing about how the regiment found Marie as a baby and brought her up. The chorus of men (the regiment) were also very good, and several of the men were very involved in their acting, which is always nice.

Brownlee did amazingly with the famous aria with the nine high Cs, and received quite an ovation from the audience. He also was very good at the random insertions of humor that kept the audience laughing. A couple of his moments in particular stick in my mind; absolutely priceless. Of course, those things are much easier to be good at than great musicality.

What ends up happening in the first act is that the Marquise discovers that Marie is her own daughter (though she pretends it's merely her niece at first), and she takes her away to try to assimilate her into the aristocratic culture that is her birthright. This greatly saddens the regiment, and Tonio obviously, who has joined the regiment by this point in order to be able to marry Marie. Marie has a gorgeous sad aria towards the end of the act, "Il faut partir," (literally 'It is necessary to leave') and then the act comes to a close shortly after that.

I wandered around the McCaw Hall lobby during intermission, making my way through the various levels. I didn't find anyone I knew, and eventually the 30 minute intermission came to an end and I returned to my seat.

The second act takes place entirely in the Marquise's mansion, and from the beginning evoked a great deal more laughter from the audience than the first act did. This is not a criticism of the first act; I think this is always the case with this opera. The situation in the second act presents much more opportunity for wacky slapstick humor to be inserted, and this production and cast capitalized on it very well.

Much of the dialog in the second act (and I believe to a lesser degree in the first act) was different than what I remember from the Met production. I only have these two productions to go by, but it seems that with a comic opera with spoken dialog between the pieces, much liberty can be taken to shape it in different ways.

The Marquise is trying to teach Marie how to be a respectable lady, mostly by having her sing lieder with her accompanying on the piano. Sulpice is there as well, and with his help Marie keeps falling into songs from the regiment, greatly frustrating the old Marquise. There was also a butler guy in the mansion who would start dancing gleefully every time Marie and Sulpice would pick the music up into a jollier rhythm and sing about the regiment. That butler was actually the most popular comical insertion in the production; you'd have to see him to understand why. The laughter was sustained, I'll say that much.

The Marquise has arranged to marry Marie to the Duke of Krakenthorp, which will give her honor and a name and all that. Tonio and the regiment show up, and Tonio sings a beautiful aria to the Marquise, explaining how much he loves Marie (Brownlee was again excellent here), but plans for the wedding to the Duke continue. Eventually the guests begin to arrive, at which point a very daring comical insertion presented itself. Where normally there would just be music playing and the guests piling into the mansion, in this production they had the pairs of guests hand cards with their names to Hortensuis, who would call out who they are, and they were all from different regions of the Seattle area. The first was "The Baron and Baroness of Medina," and then there was a pair from Puyallup, and from Hunts Point, etc. The audience laughed with each one even as the joke got old. I guess it didn't get old that quickly.

Then the Duchesse of Krakenthorp appeared, played by Peter Kazaras. That's right, a man played the Duchesse. He was all puffed up in a dress, with makeup and everything; it was quite a hoot. Some more priceless moments of comedy followed his... er, I mean her entrance, and she ended up singing an Offenbach song with the Marquise on the piano.

Of course the Marquise ends up changing her mind about the wedding and allows Marie to marry Tonio, and everyone is happy except for the Duchesse and the guests, who are caricatures of snobby nobility.

The second act was practically non-stop laughs and really complimented the first act very well. The performances from all involved were again very good throughout this act, and although it was opening night there seemed to be no glitches of any kind.

After the curtain went down at the end, the music of the second act of Die Walküre came storming into my head, as if to remind me that this was a fun show, but dramatic opera is practically a different genre, and one which I much prefer. Rigoletto is coming up in January, and I plan to see it at least three times.

Until then, the Seattle Opera is definitely still on top of its game!

October 10th, 2013: Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 23

Thursday evening's concert was the second in the Masterworks season, and was led by British conductor Andrew Manze. The program consisted of a suite of four works by Purcell and Mozart's 23rd piano concerto in the first half, followed by Vaughan Williams' 5th symphony in the second half. Simone Dinnerstein was the soloist for the Mozart concerto.

Manze took to the podium at the start of the concert and picked up a microphone to say a few words to the audience. The suite of four Purcell works were not technically a suite, but simply four works by Purcell performed together. Manze spoke about them, and explained how some of them are orchestrated by Benjamin Britten, and some of them by Manze himself. He joked that the audience probably thinks of England as the land of no music, and said he hopes that this evening will convince them otherwise.

The four pieces by Purcell were beautiful. The first one was incredibly short, just a funeral march that couldn't have been longer than two minutes. The others were classic, beautiful baroque music, particularly the last one, which Manze said was Britten's favorite piece of Purcell.

After the Purcell was over the piano was wheeled out for the piano concerto. I had looked up Simone Dinnerstein a few days beforehand and wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She engaged in a lot of new age playing tendencies, but she was also very expressive. At Thursday's concert it seemed to be much the same. Her facial expressions were completely over the top from the beginning to the end of the concerto, but if I closed my eyes or looked away, the playing was quite fine. Her tone in particular was the warmest, richest, most beautiful tone I have yet heard from a pianist in Benaroya Hall. That was the key element of her playing that made it captivating.

I would say that overall I still prefer Vladimir Feltsman's performance of this work from back in May. It was overall more traditionally played. But compared to some of the flat performances of Mozart piano concerts I've heard this past year (No. 9 with Garrick Ohlsson, No. 21 with Cédric Tiberghien), Dinnerstein's was certainly up there among the best. One thing I preferred about Dinnerstein's performance was the slow tempo of the second movement. She played the opening very slowly and beautifully, and Manze brought the orchestra in in such a way that it seemed it had always been going and we were only now beginning to hear it. He also remained in the slow tempo she had set, which created an incredible effect for the unspeakably divine orchestral passages.

There was one part in the third movement I think, where I was listening with my eyes closed and suddenly I was jarred by what sounded like the piano and orchestra getting very out of sync with each other. My eyes snapped open, but they then seemed to be back together. Perhaps what I heard wasn't an actual fumbling of the performers but something that my mind did as it drifted towards a half-asleep state. Fascinating questions.

The audience didn't seem very enthralled with Dinnerstein. After her first bow and exit from the stage the applause barely sustained enough for her to return for a second bow. Half the audience was still standing up of course though, this is Seattle. She stayed on stage for her second bow for a little while, probably knowing this was it, and the applause quickly faded just as she took her last step from the stage.

After intermission Manze returned to the stage in front of a much larger orchestra, and again took the microphone to address the audience before performing the Vaughan Williams. He told a story about how while conducting this symphony recently he had met a very old woman who had been there in 1943 at the first performance of it in England. The audience oohed and aahed as he told the story. Apparently she was a sound engineer, because all the men were at war. She said that everyone was weeping during the performance because it was this beautiful, hopeful piece of music that Vaughan Williams had created in the midst of total darkness; the previous three years had been terrible for England obviously. Finally he said "enough from me!" with a gesture of his hand, and turned around to begin the symphony.

It was a very fine performance. Andrew Manze was clearly a very good musician, and he led the orchestra through a solid and convincing performance of the symphony. The brass were a little bit weak in places, something they actually suffered from throughout the first half as well I believe, but otherwise the orchestral playing was technically very good. My favorite movement is the third, the one which has the most romantic, hollywood-esque soaring string passages, and it was played very beautifully.

It's unfair to compare level of polish between tonight and most of the other concerts I go to because normally I go on Saturdays. Opening night is always not as quite put together as subsequent performances, and I think this was noticeable on Thursday. In any case it was a very enjoyable concert!

Next up is The Daughter of the Regiment at the Seattle Opera!

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October 5th, 2013: Beethoven's Triple Concerto

What a night! What a thoroughly enjoyable concert. It was so good I was tempted to go again today at 2:00!

Thomas Dausgaard was the conductor for the evening, and just a few days prior the Symphony had announced that he is to be the new Principal Guest Conductor. Dausgaard is a relatively famous Danish conductor who specializes in Scandinavian repertoire, but also has an affinity for the core Germanic repertoire. This was proven in yesterday's concert.

The first half consisted of Beethoven's Triple Concerto, with Alina Pogostkina on violin, Andreas Brantelid on cello and Christian Ihle Hadland on piano. The second half consisted of Schubert's Symphony No. 9 in C major, "The Great." I didn't realize beforehand how much I would appreciate the fact that the concert contained no nonsense music, no fillers, no contemporary castor oil, etc. Beethoven concerto in the first half, Schubert symphony in the second. Every concert should be like this!

Dausgaard and the three soloists came out to perform the Beethoven concerto, taking up an interesting staging arrangement in which Christian, the pianist, wasn't able to see either of the other two soloists. But I suppose the alternative would have put the string soloists such that the sound of the piano would overwhelm them.

I had listened to the concerto several times in preparation for this concert and had grown quite fond of it. While I had high hopes for Dausgaard as a conductor I was more skeptical about the three very young European soloists (Pogostkina was Russian, Brantelid was Swedish/Danish and Christian was Norwegian), mainly because of the risk that they would substitute musical depth for superficial acting.

Dausgaard gave the downbeat for the orchestral introduction and within a very short time proved himself to be a brilliant and competent leader, bringing out the absolute best that the Seattle Symphony has to offer. The orchestral playing was vivid and brilliant, the sound quality ever present, every inner line clearly heard. The timber of the strings even seemed to be taking on a much-appreciated gritty sound due to the intensity with which they played.

When Andreas Brantelid began the first solo of the concerto he did make a few "look at how into the music I am" faces and looked aimlessly around the hall as he tossed off the first few phrases. I feared for the worst. However, as the piece continued and the violin and piano joined him, it seemed that they were actually generally on the mature side. Alina Pogostkina, though she wore an immodest dress, played the violin very professionally. Her musical expression came across as quite authentic to me. For the most part Andreas Brantelid was also fairly authentic, though he was a bit more on the fence, occasionally straying into a manner of playing rooted in a show business mentality rather than a learned knowledge of the music. Christian Ihle Hadland, on the piano, provided technical perfection in his part and served as a solid grounding for the trio of soloists.

Dausgaard was incredible. Absolutely a pleasure to watch. It seemed whatever he touched turned to gold, vaporizing time, immortalizing the music. He was locked in with the soloists as if their brains were physically connected. He provided an orchestral accompaniment to them which was right on their heels, the entrances impeccably timed, the musical intentions crystal clear, the dynamic contrasts thrilling. There wasn't a single passage in the concerto that didn't have impeccable togetherness between all the players, and Dausgaard was clearly responsible for that. He was 150% involved in what he was doing, his face lit, his movements boisterous and inspiring, like a painter painting the music to life on an aural canvas.

Throughout the course of the forty minute concerto (which felt much shorter) the soloists proved themselves to be fine musicians. They worked as a unit, and throughout most of the piece I never had the experience that anything they were doing was interfering with my ability to hear the music. They delivered it in a mostly straight forward and unpretentious manner. By the end of the concerto I was in a really good mood. Hearing a live performance of this caliber is a real treat.

After intermission Dausgaard returned to the podium to conduct Schubert's 9th symphony. This symphony is less known than his 8th (the unfinished) and it is a very interesting work. It is quite long, and the third and fourth movements in particular drag on and on, seeming to repeat the same sections over and over. I'm not too familiar with the form, but that's what it sounds like. I sat in the first violin section of the Seattle Youth Symphony Orchestra back in the 2009/2010 season when they played this symphony, and I have a certain affinity for it.

The first movement was slightly disappointing after what we had heard in the Beethoven concerto. The orchestra had the same presence and quality of tone, but I think Dausgaard rushed the movement just a little bit. Several precious moments and transitions were rushed through, and on top of that it seemed like the orchestra disagreed with his tempo. So it didn't sound like a coherent fast tempo, it sounded pushed. I still enjoyed it very much, but wished that he had fleshed it out and presented it in the crystal clear and brilliant manner with which he had presented the Beethoven. Nevertheless, at times during the first movement I really felt the presence of Schubert's divine music. He really is as close to Bach, Mozart and Beethoven as any other composer gets.

The reduction in attention to detail compared to the Beethoven was mostly confined to the first movement. I'm not sure what the cause of it was, especially since Dausgaard was conducting without a score. I assume that means he knows it inside out, although if he doesn't, that might explain it. In any case it was a terrific performance and my quibbles with it probably only sound as serious as they do because I'm writing in the context of a perfect conducting job during the first half of the concert. The Schubert also did not feel nearly as long as it was, and the orchestra was on their toes and playing their best. They maintained the crisp string tone, glorious winds and brass, and stark dynamic contrasts. During the second movement Dausgaard's attention to detail seemed to return fully, to chilling and brilliant effect in places, and the third and fourth movements, while long and repetitive, did not seem to lack anything.

I must say that after last night's concert I am absolutely thrilled and delighted at Thomas Dausgaard's appointment as Principal Guest Conductor, and I'm already preparing for the festival of Sibelius symphonies he will conduct during the 2014/2015 season!

Next up is Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 23 and Vaughan Williams' Symphony No. 5!

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