The David S Operaworld blog

A series of commentary on the world of opera and of serious music hopefully with links to items of broader cultural interest, correlation with the subject at hand. There is plenty of room here for a certain amount of clowning around and general irreverence - not exclusive to me - but of course no trollers or spam please. Blog for coverage of the BBC PROMS 2010 - with thoroughly proofread/upgraded coverage of the 2009 Proms and of much else.

Monday, June 28, 2010

LA Phil (NPR): Gustavo Dudamel conducts Dvorak and Tchaikovsky - both in B Minor. Alicia Weilerstein, cello. 06.05.10. Disney Hall, Los Angeles.

What logic must be behind pairing Dvorak concerto with the Tchaikovsky Sixth? For someone with, let us say, mild taste for overemphasis, here is what veers dangerously close to bathos reinforcing bathos – sinking so much underneath. I can not explain the Dudamel phenomenon, except to be remindful that man by last name of Abreu assembled la sistema in Venezuela, not Dudamel. Dudamel is felicitously poster boy as program’s first international success. Coming from very humble origins arises so much.

One certain way to deny music its power and eloquence is to deny it its form. The Dvorak Cello Concerto opened, with Alicia Weilerstein, equal partner in crime as soloist. Something of thus very modest results, albeit with very sufficient theatricality to help us pretend we had something, came about. As for any marking that has ‘poco’ in it , Dudamel usually interprets that for anything to be marked even for just isolated measure or two, must mean shyness on the part of the composer about asking for more, to add more, or even to start earlier than where he might have indicated. Whenever it might help Dudamel’s own expressive purposes, it might even be possible to do just the opposite of what the composer indicates in the score. It sure seemed too, with highly vernacular deconstructionism at play, that here was Dudamel’s (newest) attempt overall to reveal how sliced bread, or chain of broken sub-phrases can be discovered anew.

Lower winds started the Dvorak in lumbering manner - with long distraught ritardando a good four measures before marked - for eventually what turned out good horn entrance. Weilerstein, upon first entering, made triple stop chords so pushed and thick to right away resemble her playing quarter, quintuple stops instead – with immediately flaccidly apoplectic response from concertato of winds. Louder statements from full orchestra, while working so much else so hard, registered consistently anti-climactic. Repeat chain of appoggiatura to strongly mark line for soloist before first entering with second theme was all also ironically too light. Dudamel however then tried to prove expressivity about timpani upbeats in the following ritrornello – at expense to line.

Long, mostly unmarked ritardando framed new contest entry by Weilerstein - as how to make often expressive G-sharp minor entrance for the Development most slathered over yet. An obvious hard jerk forward, one among many, next had to be healthy for getting things going again. Ending with loud half-scrape up octaves run into the Recapitulation was a series of accelerandi, each successive one less subtle, more exciting than the one before, none of which written in by Dvorak. For all this, the Recapitulation upon arrival seemed quite cruelly anti-climactic. For about a minute or two, we somehow got a breather from all the spelling out of so much to us. Things eventually continued to proceed in as broad-brush, but half-ironically simultaneously fragmented way as earlier.

Dudamel made palpable good restful atmosphere to open the slow movement, but all as getting too distended. Hard docking to open the middle section did little to assist belying an overall lack of subtlety. Violin section arpeggi, admittedly light even in numbers, over continuing cello line, sounded very wispy - lame at supporting anything. Underlining of halfway lost principal bassoon to accompany misshapen line from Weilerstein turned out most curious. Concertato of horns reintroducing outer section to the Adagio almost ran out of breath, with Dudamel paying special attention to marking timpani upbeats correctly. All was beginning to individually develop a life of its own, as though we might be getting here post-Lutoslawski Venetian Games, Cello Concerto Dvorak instead of just Dvorak. Usual place for brief conspicuous speed up in note values, then additionally instructed, went by hardly noticeably at all; Dudamel and Weilerstein probably just surmised it most safe to simply get through it.

Push and shove proved again rule of thumb, rule of flail, for starting the finale - high dance step octave F-sharps in violins getting icked so that woodwinds in same pitch interplay with the violins did not get any real say at all in the mix. Weilerstein eschewed finding stable tempo for opening the rondo, resulting in her missing accents, and compensating for such lack, making good fast flailed sa-shay through following lines. Next entrance in double-stops then got heavily worked, as expected. Principal clarinet made so much massage out of the usually completely gentle, yielding second theme; Weilerstein then settled for educated guess to negotiate rapid triplet or sextuplet arpeggi coming off this and then loud halfway pitchless scrape up run into ritornello to follow.

Concertmaster solo over accompanying cello began with real spirit, but Dvorak would have scratched out his molto rit. and accents descending off high B had he encountered such clearly evident context here. Loud, highly extended docking, respectively settled for what we should find climactic for framing brass chorale and long held F-sharp (contest now as to who can hold it the longest) for Weilerstein, for Los Angeles Philharmonic next to flail away for finish line at last. At end of the broadcast, Dudamel was described as standing for his bows within ranks of the Philharmonic, as to represent himself as merely one among colleagues on stage. Could have so many interpretative decisions about the Dvorak occurred by committee? Could not have Dvorak lived to take orchestration from Stockhausen or Bernd Alois Zimmermann? Could not such insight have enhanced his writing then, you think? I am reminded of Proms commentary last summer introducing Dialoge by Zimmermann - i.e. how so many instrumentalists, including two pianists, got assorted into all randomly chosen groups to freely interact.

Blow the dust off them old warhorses! There once came occasion for Ilan Volkov to join Heinrich Schiff on the Dvorak. Without needing props from anybody, he conducted the Dvorak with as much poetry, quality of detail, supple line at age of thirty-one as I have heard anybody do it. Both soloist and conductor left at the door all usual mannerism and fuss that so non-poetically can clog the alternately dancing and rhapsodizing lines of this music. Here was loudly announced attempt to blow all the dust off the Dvorak, but ultimately a harder layer of grime and crud accumulated, caked over it instead.

Not a terribly slow, but quite extensively diffuse, prolix account of the Tchaikovsky Sixth Symphony followed – that ultimately sounded tiring, even for players of the Philharmonic. Giulini recorded this with them not so terribly long ago. First period of the stormy Development section broke apart into at least half a dozen sub-phrases. Following this was re-entry of first theme, played in about three different articulations; most interesting was the heavily slurred one, such as probably got copied off a recording– useless to try guessing at or knowing which one. Musing brass chorale over still, quietly rumbling basses all went matter-of-fact, replied to by Tinkerbelle flourish in the winds. Quasi-mexican serenade of sorts was made out of the great Theme 2, followed by marking of just about every sub-phrase for winds that could be found over stasis of marching chords in strings underneath Connecting line to all this then became completely lost. Syrupy muzak out of rushing line in violins toward reprise consequent of Theme 2 and jerking-back-of-personal-frame-on-podium marking of timpani upbeats beneath nobly restrained closing clarinet solo was all most expressive indeed.

Second movement five-four waltz began unsure of where to place either accents or hips on the podium for it. Winds, when given the tune, never throughout the course of this achieved meaningful shape to it. Accompaniment to flourishing string line responding to winds thereby was shaky all at once in numerous ways. Equally fey was extra piquant touch to the polonaise-infused dotted rhythm ends of phrases and eyelid drooping back-phrase in making it from trio section back into main waltz. Trio section fared better. Two note sequential, stepwise sub-phrases starting the coda got individually packaged care as individual phrases all on their own instead of components to one connecting line.

As for the scherzo-march, slower than usual, slightly more energy than affordable got spent on working what ultimately resulted in shaky ensemble for triplets in the strings to open this. Clipping of wind parts reminded one well of name of hall where this concert took place. Dudamel dug into multiple stop cadences in his strings with tremendous force. The march, at constantly slightly distended tempo, also received quite a work-out. It did not especially flatter the acoustic of the still relatively new Disney Hall – across street from the Chandler - to make hollow space for first five note repeating timpani in the coda, yet Dudamel did just that. Conclusion carried forth with brilliant flourish.

The tragic finale was not terribly slow so much as devoid of real shape. Dudamel, from perhaps several recordings he has listened to, knows where to push or rush the line through two climactic long arches therein, but missed internal placement of accents within the line, even clipping a few notes along the way, making caricature of it all. There was the practically usually blowsy muzak typical of often mediocre interpretation of the opening divisi-built tune to the finale; enhancing such more than one could ask or want, a little salsa thrown in for flavor. Hardly any connected line was achieved at all.
Brass sostenuto was quite good for their chorale intoned final say, but it, toward good mimic of understatement, suffered from the shaving off of several note values of their full worth; any coursing line through it and rests, got entirely lost. Entirety of coda following the brass chorale got worked hard; so no last drop of passion with which Dudamel must infuse it could be missed. Does not the name Carlos Paita ever come up, as of late?

With so much work Dudamel picks up, getting rushed-coached through so many scores by Abbado, Rattle, Barenboim does not replace hard work on one’s own and time for reflection needed to become an at all significant interpreter. Here is someone who has come a very long way; it is not for me to demean what enthusiasm Dudamel brings to the plate each time he steps up. Not forgetting horn, other fine wind principals, the best musician on stage for this was none other than principal bassoon Shawn Mouser, who let slip out a fully convincing shape to long descending line one third the way through the finale. Give him a fifty percent pay raise right away.

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Tuesday, June 22, 2010

LOC 2009-2010: Effervescently charming Elisir (at last) - Cabell, Filianoti, Corbelli, Campanella - January 2010; Season opener Tosca - Deborah Voigt

Dr. Dulcamara has made visitation on yet another opera company in the States, this time Lyric of Chicago. It was here that he would make the sale better than his other two stops on the continent, as performed by one singer – Alessandro Corbelli. The other major company to have had Elisir on over the past year or so has been Los Angeles, with Ruggiero Raimondi instead as Dulcamara (with Nino Machaidze apparently a winning Adina).

Most astute, clear musical preparation went into this Elisir, quite unlike in Houston under Edoardo Mueller or perhaps even under Bruno Campanella himself from San Francisco (starring Ramon Vargas and unsteady Inva Mula there). A working assumption is that Chicago used a mostly traditional production of Elisir d’amore, which is practically just almost always the best way to go about it. Once the charm of this simple comedy goes, then the game is pretty much up - the humor of it all quickly out the back door as well.

Conductor being the same as in San Francisco, I begin to suspect a co-conspirator among team doing the musical preparation for Lyric - Dr. Phillip Gossett. He it was who provided wonderful commentary on Elisir during the broadcast interval. He described eloquently how Verdi intimated Nemorino’s part for an Act 2 duet in how he wrote some of Gilda’s lines. He also spoke of the popular song origin of ‘Una furtive lagrima’ of how Donizetti pleaded with his librettist to be able to include it – in context of a very limited time frame to get things ready for Elisir’s first prima. However Dr. Gossett may have provided a hand just resulted in the most airy sense of lightness, fun, joie de vivre throughout the entirety of this, as though it all could have been played off the cuff. The fruits of preparation so astute and clear on something like Elisir d’amore are just that.

The only detracting thing about this performance was the quality of some of the voices themselves – some tendency to vocal hardness, strain around the break Campanella always made enterprise of finding a way in his accompaniment and for the singers themselves to find ways around it, and succeeded quite often at it. There were any combination of things – encouraging singers to give the rhythms in their vocal lines the bounce they need, to point the text with as much unforced wit as possible, and to caress the lines they sing and shapes within thereof. Of what I have heard this season from the U.S., there simply has been no opera better conducted than this one,

Nicole Cabell made the warm, almost sultry toned Adina. She tended to understate the sarcastic edge, the cold indifference to Nemorino, even some of the early flippancy of Adina in early scenes. Underlying her flirtatious character was a sense of there being a tug on the heartstrings – recognition of how deeply, even hopelessly in love with her Nemorino is. On the other hand, one may have sensed through Adina expressing herself in so much earnest to the audience, a lack of variety in accent, some blandness, but she stopped well short of making anything coy of Adina.

Enormous highlight of the entire performance was the Act 2 duet with Dulcamara, during which Cabell converted Adina’s enhanced concern for Nemorino at this point over much patter goading from the quack into equally joining forces with Dulcamara. His elixir is no match for her wiles toward eventually winning over a Nemorino who has started haughtily affecting that with elixir in hand there is nobody in the village to whom women are more attracted than he. Cabell’s very heartfelt “Prendii, per me sei libero”, even if mildly placed back vocally, was moving. Her command of long lines without taking a breath, subtle rubato infused therein, even if for some ends of phrases, Cabell does not lighten tone to fully desirable extent. Two very minor slips, in getting off cleanest releases for taking breaths during the at once rapid and long-lined cabaletta, were all that betrayed any more insecurity than mentioned already. Compensating for such was Cabell’s very warm low register and fine achievement of both agility across the range and generosity of spirit, so much with which she invested singing Adina.

Giuseppe Filianoti made his Lyric Opera of Chicago debut with Nemorino. His opening ‘Quanto e bello’ revealed a tenor unabashed in giving his lines much full-throated ardor, wile managing to avoid any too obvious strain, except perhaps on one optional high A toward the end of his first aria. For ‘”Una furtive lagrima”, he prudently eschewed attempting to achieve the sublime with this, with in mind first and foremost the simplicity of the aria’s popular origins – with just some hint of mezzo voce a la Alfredo Kraus for starting the second verse to it. It worked beautifully well for him and gave the obvious show-stopper its place within context of the entire comedy and very winningly so. Even if still spending a little too much of what vocal resources lie at his disposal, no effort of the kind unduly intervened on “Una furtive lagrima” this go at it.

What Filianoti had beforehand was the wit he put into so many scenes in-between the two arias – the rambunctious bounce he gave reprise of the chorus with his part in descant to them so early on. Also spot-on was his fulsome ecstasy in discovering the elixir, and insolence to others, as towards Belcore when things only seem to finally be going entirely his way. Filianoti pointed too the ease with which Nemorino can be so easily duped. He made a study in character acting here – requiring that he sing the part well - complete, not to mention very charming. His gently distraught ardor for “Ai perigli della guerra” – part of'Venti scudi' (duet with Belcore) that inspired Verdi’s writing of Gilda’s lines in quartet from Rigoletto, (as Gossett explained well) was most apt.

Gabriele Viviani also made fine casting as the haughty Belcore. With good command of line, he affected noble bearing well for his opening aria, “Come Paride vezzoso”, even the irony of it well. Just mostly to advantage, did Viviani revealwhat fulsomeness of voice he can command. Extra emphasis on bluster invited some strain, but the agility for runs and rapid patter, including in stern rebuttal to Nemorino’s entreaties Viviani clearly made known. Viviani commands a supple line, nuance thereof, especially when most relaxed - evident as Riccardo Forth throughout a Bologna Puritani seen here last year.

Nearly a week after the Puritani, courtesy of Rave and Emerging Pictures, Houston Grand Opera staged its Elisir d’amore, borrowed from Glyndebourne, starring Alessandro Corbelli as Dr. Dulcamara. By and large, let Corbelli be his own stage director, as Jack O’Brien (Met Trittico) and Giulio Chazzaletes have done, and out comes an artist entirely worthy of our trust. This Dulcamara was not only hilarious, but definitively revealed Corbelli’s love for both the part and the character. He even let on about chance of Dulcamara’s quackery catching up with him one day.

Corbelli made up for a little vocal stiffening that comes with age, with tremendous wit with the words. He commanded the stage here from first ‘Udite’ to both finish heralding his entrance and introduce his catalogue of wares and mostly elixirs with great aplomb. The awareness of all the highly varied whim and demand Dulcamara finds out on the street was acute, together with pointed parody of the clientele. Whatever trick might work with any of his clients, even if it is affecting amnesia, as with Adina, or befuddlement upon first meeting Nemorino (as though trying to keep pace with him) there was for us no mistaking it and no self-conscious underlining of the least bit. He even, upon reprise of ‘Io son ricco’ skipped a beat during the tune on purpose to affect catching himself saying something he should not, lest the cat get completely let out of the bag. Here was classic Corbelli, equal to any of the best he has given us in the past. With audience instead on or attentive to so much excess clutter, Corbelli too willingly took a back seat to it all, as he surmised what was demanded of him here in Houston. Such was our loss, but concerning Corbelli, all is definitely (forgotten and) forgiven now.

Guaranteeing that no number in this Elisir might seem least bit insignificant was Bruno Campanella on the podium. Take for instance the quasi-conspiratorial chorus (“Saria possible?’”) of girls, led by “Or Nemorino e milionario” that can so easily become so much marking of time. Between the very saucy Giannetta of Angela Mannino and Bruno Campanella’s highly attentive, but never obtrusive pointing of accents, it all instead turned out as much fun as all the rest of this very witty Elisir. Campanella’s leadership showed some awareness of ‘period’ in keeping string vibrato light, but without encrusting Donizetti with a level of tautology – of which it should never be in any need. While still keeping things a little subdued for it, he had the better shaping of ‘Adina, credimi’ during the finale to Act One than either Patrick Summers or Edoardo Muller. The animated passages that surrounded the moment of poignancy had all the air, lift, bounce, wit they ever needed. There was more detail heard throughout it all than we are most accustomed to hearing, not only for at times just Donizetti’s rhythms themselves – but for so very much that can infuse them with so much life.

The reading between the lines was also so complete, most of all in allowing deft space needed for his singers to make all of their words count – even at a few tempos mildly breezier than usual. All worked as though magically to the singers’ advantage. All backed off from contributing to a situation in which they might strain their voices. Much highly attentive rehearsal, sufficient time for such contributed so much – such that Campanella may have been denied months earlier in San Francisco; performance broadcast from that run did not lift spirits to the level this one did. All effervesced, bubbled here - even preceding excellent flute principal in the sinfonia - to extent as though no effort could have been put into it - indeed why to prepare Elisir so well.

Short work here can be made of the Tosca that followed. Andrew Davis’s conducting just about thoroughly missed it in line, sostenuto, and in sufficient necessary buildup, maintenance of dramatic tension. Past the dryly enunciated opening ‘trionfar’ on solo horn more color and nuance emerged for much of Act Three – taken less draggy overall than Act One. Even the dryly enunciated Scarpia chords opening Act One (with urbane manner for much of the rest of this Tosca) showed incomplete understanding of their import, even of the harmonic progression itself. Davis applied so much elision to in effect override scene of Scarpia’s murder that, as a result, he thoroughly deflated it. No, the heavy grind he made out of resuming the dirge that has moments before accompanied Scarpia’s writing of the safe-conduct did not help matters. Deborah Voigt could hardly be blamed for not knowing what to do with ‘Avanti a lui’, except to just do it by rote.

Deborah Voigt, in caressing so many lines, showed a very welcome feminine, even girlish vulnerability as Tosca that helped obscure some hollowness of midrange and wiry strain on top. It became a little too evident, however, during ‘Vissi d’arte’ a lack of grandeur of expression, but of course a very opposite way of playing the Roman diva has seldom worked well either. A little of such glibness carried over into Act Three, but not enough to ruin matters. The fear, anxiety in Voigt’s voice during tense moments with Scarpia rang true, especially as far as through the interrogation scene.

Vladimir Galuzin was out-and-out disastrous as Mario Cavaradossi – all thick bluster and little else, and even in effect, with as thick a wobble as he could let out, gave off ability to hit a good several pitches at once (at crest of 'Trionfar', for instance). It is such at which Buddhist monks in remote parts of Mongolia are adept - to depict varied states of nature, as host of PBS travelogue let us see probably the same Saturday afternoon this broadcast. First of two ‘Vittoria’s in Act Two wobbled out of control, followed by second one that seemed to get stuck on its second syllable. Number of sub-phrases Galuzin managed to sing softly could be counted on the fingers of one hand. There was little meaning to Cavaradossi’s defiance of Scarpia or of his circumstances, as so many lighter, more ardent passages contained the same bluster as well.

Garnett Bruce, for this restaging of the Met Zeffirelli production, spoke of the Russian pessimistic view of the final scene, regarding Cavaradossi, for Cavaradossi to be telling Tosca, ‘Don’t worry, honey. I will look good’ – in response to coaching of how to handle supposedly simulated situation at hand. One can not doubt Galuzin’s ability to look good, act well and have some feeling for Cavaradossi, but a much more relaxed approach to all this is necessary for any of it to come across vocally.

James Morris, seen soon thereafter as a disastrous Fiesco for Met revival of Simon Boccanegra, showed unerring command of the words and of even some of the gravitas of Scarpia, not to mention the to-be-feared aspects of this character. Voice was too dry to sustain well the legato for ‘Ella verra’, but he made much of the declamation in the Te Deum and of so many lines, playing off the vulnerable sounding Deborah Voigt, both in his Act One interview of Tosca and throughout the interrogation scene in Act Two.

Among supporting cast, John Easterlin (Spoletta), Paul Corona (Sciarrone) and sonorous jailer of Sam Handley distinguished themselves most, but weak Angelotti (Craig Irvin) and extra-buffo, vocally weak Dale Travis as the Sacristan less so. Angela Mannino made ideal a picture of boyish wistful innocence, as treble-toned Shepherd to help open Act Three.

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Thursday, June 10, 2010

LOC 2009-2010: Verdi's Ernani - of definitely routiniere, concert-in-costume class - deserving of better

Lyric Opera, in addition to Kat’a Kabanova, for most interesting part of their repertoire last season, gave this relatively routine, safe revival of Verdi’s Ernani. In being so safe, it partly missed what Ernani is about, except to present it as period or museum piece.

Lack of contrast between more forceful accents and cantilena during the prelude set the tone just almost too well. Here was leadership slick and efficient, content to just supportively accompany the singers, that did not miss so much in connecting line in Verdi’s music, but what might be any driving passion behind it. In fact, in a derivative sense, it much resembled James Levine’s conducting of Ernani from over twenty-five years ago (as seen on dvd with Leona Mitchell and Pavarotti), but even Levine put more fire into this than has Renato Palumbo. It all still fit within context of an entirely concert in costume Ernani, with generic abstract sets and painstakingly historically accurate costuming – in Samaritani production (not the one Lyric used here) the Met employed.

Salvarote Licitra made an eager bandit Ernani, delivering opening aria, “Come rugiada al cespite” with fine curve and swagger to the line, if some strain on top. He, together with Sondra Radvanovsky, the Elivra, coasted his way through the extended concertato finale to Act One, not wanting to risk more than minimal input of passion into what he was singing, but with still having to bench press high A’s for closing portion of it. The character of Ernani got denied being any challenge to situation at hand. Forza was similarly lacking for Act Two terzetto with Elvira and Silva and confrontation of Elvira right afterwards – contrast for duettino with Elivra ‘Ah! morir” to follow thoroughly insufficient; once into it, Licitra invested the passage with more feeling than had been the norm thus far. The final scene elicited good lyrical shape for easier lines, but caution to avoid excessive strain again ruled the day for what proved too timid a bandit by half.

Sondra Radvanovsky, albeit with uneven placement of breath, elicited fine sense of the cantilena line as Elvira, including for “Ernani, involami”, a little better diction than Leona Mitchell as Elvira as well, but minimal passion. Whereas the ardor for Ernani was there, the enterprising, risk-taking nature of this Verdi heroine got compromised by retiring and flaccid accents, no less than during her reply to Carlo’s first advances to her during Act One, and on brief refrain replacement of cabaletta for Elvira (showing early sign of fatigue by Verdi to write cabalettas when there are available, such as this, better options) right before ‘O sommo Carlo’ during Act Three.

Giacomo Prestia made for a retiring Silva, who had it only so far for the lyrical pages of this, but for instance on ‘No, vendetta’ to Elivra and Ernani, had he tried giving it more voice or vitality, it could have gone hoarse. Palumbo gave Prestia assistance in making waltz step out of Ernani’s oath with which Silva reminds him several times during Act Four – solemn enough in what it then requires of Ernani, one would think. Phillip Gossett reports that in Milan in 1982 there had been rumor that Ghiaurov got spared singing Silva’s cabaletta in Act One for no longer quite having the voice for it. Prestia, less stable than 1982 Ghiaurov, attempted singing it nevertheless. Ghiaurov, especially by today’s standards was still capable of it in 1982. Paul Corona, Kathryn Leemhuis and Rene Barbera ideally acquitted themselves for their three supporting roles.

Best of all in this cast was Boaz Daniel as the king, Carlo. Carlo’s first wooing of Elvira, outrage of whom made flaccid by La Rad, combined lyricism and heft very well. Sense of being goaded, treated duplicitously by Silva (‘Lo vedremo di ribelli’) had good force, feel of menace. Palumbo undercut Daniel for ‘Lo vedremo, veglio audace’ by breezily streamlining its accompaniment, but Daniel held his own with fine legato and strong marking of text especially toward cadences, with Prestia in obbligato as Silva to Carlo fitting in well with Silva in so obsequious mode as occurs here. “Vieni, meco, sol di rose” alone for Boaz Daniel came off a bit heavy, but with Palumbo cutting its repeat and choral interlude before vis-à-vis the libretto being cut illogically creates an imbalance. Silva’s loyalists forever miss what is due them musically out of choral text that the king’s retinue gets privileged to have alone. As proper both Levine and Palumbo affect being, what could have ever authorized this cut?

Boaz Daniel combined well sense of destiny with scheming tone for start to Act Three, and dignified both ‘Oh de verd’anni miei’ and ‘O sommo Carlo’ with secure line and release with even, oaken timbre. However, accompaniment for the latter again got streamlined by Palumbo to extent it might make one surmise that Verdi missed writing in extra accents, tenuti for this music, this moment especially, to receive the gravitas it needs. Boaz Daniel, for the big Verdi baritone parts, does not have quite the full range of color and expression, but has good size of voice, the secure technique and intelligent musical and dramatic sense to pull it off. Anticipation of hearing Daniel as Carlo made listening in worth it, if little else. He shows considerable readiness for all but several or so biggest Verdi roles for baritone - even potentially as a fine Iago in Verdi’s Otello.

Palumbo paralleled Levine well in limning a beautifully played bass clarinet solo for start to Act Three just fine, but so much of this Ernani was flaccid, lacking in necessary vitality, bloodless. Choral preparation by Donald Nally proved fine, but at times undercut by stiff accenting and even on occasion clipping from the podium. The four beats marked for the central Congiura of Act Three got cut down to very nearly three, denying opening to it more than anything else a feeling of mystery. Self-conscious attention to stylistic genre of this music typified Palumbo’s efforts to point things steered clear of invoking any Risorgimento fire here – note streamlining of the Trovatore accents of Elvira and Ernani’s unison refrain response to Carlo during Act One. Just as fatally, this Ernani emerged free of any ideas at all of his own as to how it should go.

I can not fail to again find inclusion of Silva’s Act One cabaletta insipid, its dragging of the dramatic argument at hand, and not fitting at all well anything else in its having been copied and pasted over by a basso, Marini. He wanted it not only for 1842 Barcelona revival of Verdi’s first opera Oberto, but for their Ernani as well two years later. For performances, copies of Ernani that predate the critical edition that very much mostly Philip Gossett and others helped painstakingly prepare, there are presumably only orchestral parts, with winds, brass, percussion added in for the Ricordi edition (with what errors it may have therein) with preceding cadence for Silva’s cabaletta included and nothing for the parallel segue into the much more forceful and dramatically cogent recitative to instead immediately follow it (starting with ‘Uscite!’).

Gossett then made the highly questionable claim that Riccardo Muti, in excising the cabaletta (‘Infin che un brando vindice’), used the Ricordi-included cadence for the cabaletta, yet without the cabaletta. Could have Muti realized his mistake, intervened with who did the sound for filming the new Ronconi production that marked Muti’s debut at La Scala and EMI Classics (that picked this up live) as well to cut the revised cadence on dominant chord for F Minor (C Major) and cut and paste in its place instead the original that clearly ends on tonic chord in F Minor? I doubt it.

Whatever the case, the heckling of Muti while the music played on, ‘Il cabaletta, filologo!, Gossett reported, got picked up on neither dvd nor compact disc. What did get recorded then had to have been during a subsequent performance to the opening, so I still find it doubtful that there may have been any changes made for subsequent performances. If not, most likely it is not, then Gossett has perhaps hoped that in reckoning that Muti used the Ricordi edition – it likely not being possible to have done differently at the time – we might have overlooked, for passage of two measures, on what chord Muti had things land – and necessary adjustment to half a measure of continuing sixteenths in violins leading into it.

Where Muti slipped, we all can agree with Gossett, is in having publicly for La Corriere della Sera perhaps made excessive claim of having achieved philological purity in addressing all this. Where Gossett also may slip is in revealing a patronizing attitude, harmonizing well with Milano loggionisti, in taking a very patronizing attitude toward Luca Ronconi’s production (with admittedly expensive sets by Ezio Frigerio). It is absolutely brilliant, even with its mixture of costuming styles from different periods of history. The philosophical import of it, the intensity and vitality it draws out of its cast, especially from Domingo and Bruson, but also from Freni, Ghiaurov and supporting cast is all riveting.

No physical perils face any of the cast, of which a few people including Gossett have made excessive emphasis, to parallel an Andrei Serban production of Lucia di Lammermoor to have surfaced once, or at least equally bad or worse the Zambello production of also Lucia the Met back in 1993 had to immediately mothball. The video quality, in being up to date or not, may not be the most brilliant of any dvd’s I own, but I must even almost shamelessly reveal my own bias to report here that it is the most brilliant staging of a Verdi opera I have probably seen yet in any medium. Apart from Il Trittico perhaps, there is no Ronconi production to be preferred over this.

Dr. Philip Gossett (University of Chicago) was the excellent guest for one intermission, tacitly helping make Lyric a referendum on how bad it is for the Meg and Ira show to have replaced what we could still honestly call the Met intermission features. He got close to addressing – with me all ears – the Silva cabaletta philological issue at hand, but shied away from it, content with providing listeners the Saturday Ernani was on with other very fine musical and historical insights. Gossett is honest and thorough in citing the cabaletta’s inclusion in Ricordi without it existing in any of the other extant editions of the opera. I will make further effort to look into the controversy even beyond how he has addressed it in his recent, otherwise never to be doubted book Divas and Scholars.

Let us not forget the lifelong, selfless service Dr. Gossett has provided us in terms of helping revive unjustly neglected Rossini operas, musical preparation, and most of all very fine, extensive editing work that we could have at least ninety-nine percent of the time the best editions possible of these and of so much else. We all owe Gossett a debt we may never be able to pay for the love he has shown the art and all of us so interested in it. Any comment I may have made amiss, I will return here to edit in due time.

Best singing heard on this broadcast belonged to Giulietta Simionato, who other than perhaps very early on had no part in Ernani, but nobody has any doubt her fully deserving the loving retrospective Lyric provided during first intermission feature for Ernani. There is nobody quite worthy to replace her today, for the beautiful voice she possessed, her love for the art, for then only after that and her love for her colleagues, her love for taking good care of her voice, not to mention, remembered by others, sense of humor. I can only stand to envy anyone who might have known her in person at any time, but her recorded legacy lives on.

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