Critic’s Notebook: The VSO, Petr Popelka, Renaud Capuçon in LvB, Strauss/Strauß & Korngold

Also published in Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Die Symphoniker wissen, wie Schlagobers klingen muss

E.W.Korngold (& LvB) Violin Concerto(s) R. Capuçon / Y.Nézet-Séguin / Rotterdam PO Virgin/Erato (2009) US | UK | DE

L.v.Beethoven Rosenkavalier-Suite et al. H.Blomstedt / J.Y.Thibaudet / Gewandhaus Decca (2005) US | UK | DE

Viennese Double Cream, Manifest in Music

The Vienna Symphony Orchestra, under their chief conductor, show their spirited side again.

Hearing Beethoven’s Consecration of the House Overture live is a rare pleasure: late, brisk, and genial Beethoven, in a nutshell — sparkling and, especially under chief conductor Petr Popelka, played with the requisite vitality by the Vienna Symphony Orchestra on Saturday evening. What a difference a conductor makes, compared to the previous outing of flat-out-boredom!

That refined opening was followed by Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Violin Concerto — a work that, after a few decades of raised eyebrows, has now rightly claimed its spot in the standard repertoire. Its mix of luscious sweep and taut structure places it not far behind the most beloved examples of the genre. But both soloist and orchestra are called upon to respect those boundaries in either direction — lest the piece lose form, focus, or character.

Renaud Capuçon, a fundamentally solid and sound violinist, seemed unsure of which interpretive path to take and wrestled with the first two movements more than expected. The orchestra, by contrast, was in fine form — clear, nuanced, with that seasoned self-possession one hopes for. By the time the more assured third movement came around, Capuçon had managed to pull things together. His encore, Massenet’s Méditation (with harpist Volker Kempf), was a direct hit in the crowd-pleaser department, sappy, served on a bed of cold calcuation.

The kinship between Josef Strauss’s Dynamiden Waltz and Richard Strauss’s Rosenkavalier Waltzes may be obvious on paper, but by the time the latter shows up — so much other music has gone by, you’ve nearly forgotten the Josef. Overflowing, teetering on Salome-esque wildness, Popelka led it like a freshly stretched rubber band. Go figure: it can be done!

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Critic’s Notebook: The Tonkünstler, Fabien Gabel, and Simone Lamsma in a Viennese-as-it-gets Evening

Also published in Die Presse: Romantik ohne Kitsch: Ein perfekter Wiener Abend im Musikverein

R.Strauss Compl.Schlagobers-Suite N.Järvi/Detroit SO Chandos (2015) US | UK | DE

E.W.Korngold (& Barber) Violin Concerto(s) Gil Shaham / A.Previn / LSO DG (1994) US | UK | DE

A Perfectly Viennese Evening

February 15^th, 2025: The Tonkünstler Orchestra offered a night as Viennese — and sugary — as they come.

Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Tales of Strauss, a piano fantasy turned orchestral suite, is a delectable stroll through the Strauss family’s waltz garden. Played here by the Tonkünstler Orchestra at the Musikverein, it came in a lush orchestration — not by the composer himself, but with his approval. There were knowing smiles and gently nodding heads in the audience whenever a particularly familiar motif peeked through. If that doesn’t make your soul smile and chase away the day’s worries, you're in trouble.

Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s Violin Concerto is no less Viennese at heart — even if the surface sheen might conjure Hollywood.After all: John Williams and his ilk all studied at the feet of the master (when they did not outright plagiarize him). Simone Lamsma played it in fine style, full-bodied and just a touch bristly: none too sweet — just enough to savor the heady tone without drowning in kitsch. The orchestra, under Fabien Gabel, surrounded her with lush romanticism — supportive but never smothering. That the audience responded with enthusiasm is no surprise: Op. 35 is one of the great underappreciated violin concertos of the 20th century — alongside, arguably, Samuel Barber’s and Wolf-Ferrari’s.

Finally, the bit the other Strauss — Richard — came up with, when he reached into the Viennese pastry box: His rarely performed but utterly charming Schlagobers Suite. The politely winking exoticism of the Coffee Dance leads to a nested romance for violin and orchestra, which concertmaster Lieke te Winkel navigated beautifully: Two Dutch soloists in one night! Echoes of the Rosenkavalier glimmer along the edges of this otherwise heavy, calorie-rich whipped-cream waltz. That the orchestra made it through the entire sugar-drenched program in such strong form — and without indigestion — is heartening, since Gabel is the Tonkünstler’s chief-conductor-designate.

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Critic’s Notebook: Vienna Symphony Back in Form under Petr Popelka

Also reviewed for Die Presse: Konzerthaus: Die Symphoniker wissen, wie Schlagobers klingen muss

L.v.Beethoven, Overtures C.Abbado / WPhil DG

Korngold *(+ Barber), Violin Concertos G.Shaham, A.Previn, LSO DG

Richard Strauss, Rosenkavalier Suite et al. A.Previn / WPhil DG

The Vienna Symphony, under their chief conductor, back in buoyant form

Beethoven’s overture for the Consecration of the House is one of those pieces you rarely catch live — and all the more welcome for it. After all, it's late Beethoven, yet breezy, pretty chipper, gratifyingly succinct, and most importantly, on Saturday evening, it was played with exactly the kind of vitality it needs by the Vienna Symphony under their boss, Petr Popelka. That seemed necessary, after last week's deadly boring outing.

That elegant opener was followed by Korngold’s Violin Concerto. Long sniffed at, the piece has — justly — found its place in the core repertoire. Its combination of lush rhapsodic and lively bite puts it just behind the genre’s most beloved entries. Still, it requires both soloist and orchestra to tread a fine line: too much in either direction, and it risks sounding sappy or aimless.

Renaud Capuçon, ever the solid violinist, seemed a bit unsure on the interpretive front — especially in the first two movements, which gave him more trouble than expected. The orchestra, however, played with clarity and nuance, bringing its signature composure to the table. But of course Capuçon has the sufficient je ne sais quoi, the commanding presence and enough routine, and that air of being above small matters in general, that he can still score with the audience. An improved third movement didn't hurt, either and his encore—Massenet’s Méditation, with harpist Volker Kempf hit the populist bullseye.

The connections between Josef Strauss’ Dynamiden Waltz and the 'Rosenkavalier-Waltz from Richard Strauss’ opera (played as part of the Suite) may be obvious on paper or to Popelka (who cleverly programmed these pieces on the second half), but by the time the latter appears, you’ve long since forgotten the former. That's not the least because Popelka led the 'Richard' with an exuberance that would have befit Salome, gripping, and flexible like a juvenile rubber band. See? It can be done.


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Critic’s Notebook: Daniel Harding brings a touch of Sweden to the Konzerthaus

Also reviewed for Die Presse: Hugo Alfvén muss man entdeckt haben: Hinreißende Schweden-Romantik im Konzerthaus

Hugo Alfvén, Complete Symphonies, Suites & Rhapsodies var. Orch., Niklas Willén Naxos

G. Mahler, Orchestral Songs C.Gerhaher, K.Nagano, OSMontreal Sony

Swedish bonbon and Gerhaherisms

The Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra’s gig at the Vienna Konzerthaus was notable for its inclusion of Hugo Alfvén on the program, and Christian Gerhaher (who loves working with Harding) singing Mahler’s Rückert songs. Less attractive on paper perhaps was Also sprach Zarathustra lurking on the back of the program, which, of course, features one of the most memorable openings in all of classical music… followed by thirty minutes of tedium. But “Strauss” sells tickets, is fun, and already in the repertoire of the orchestra, whereas something really cool, romantic, and Swedish – say, the Viola Concerto of Allan Petterson or a Symphony by him or by Erland von Koch, Wilhelm Stenhammar, or Kurt Atterberg – would admittedly have been box office poison. Sånt är livet.

Incidentally, it was a pretty good Zarathustra, that Harding and his Swedes (he’s been their MD since 2007) delivered. Listening closely, you could hear how Strauss, in 1896, opens almost all the doors to his future works: In the octet of first desks (very nicely played!) we have premonitions of the Capriccio Sextet. Further down the road, there are glimmers of the Alpine Symphony, in those somewhat meandering, intertwining musical strands. And for the “Tanzlied”, a waltz on near-infinite loop, Harding mercifully took the reins tight, as a result of which the precision suffered, but at considerable benefit to the work.

The opening Alfvén (who should, but unfathomably does not, have a chapter in Surprised by Beauty) was En skärgårdssägen, op.20. Naturally the first-ever performance in the Konzerthaus, much like a visiting Viennese orchestra would probably be the first, if they played a Robert Fuchs Serenade on a visit to Stockholm. As the ear clamors for familiar references in this 1904 sea-themed tone poem about the group of islets outside of Stockholm, it finds them in Debussy during the impressionistic heaves, in Zemlinsky when the flame begins to lick in the strings, or even in Wagner, when the brass and timpani get going.

In between Hugo and Richard, it was Gerhaher to impress with his usual, unparalleled ‘intoned parlando’ in the Mahler. The fact that you have to listen closely, sometimes, when he drops the color from his voice (one of several trademark Gerhaherisms), is easily put up with; in fact, it probably enhances the experience – though Harding and his lustily playing orchestra didn’t exactly help out, either. The cries of nocturnal pain in “Um Mitternacht” were harrowing, and “Liebst du um Schönheit” was, interestingly, stripped of any overt cynicism. Mahler didn’t know it, when he composed it, but he custom tailored “Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” to Gerhaher’s style. Hearing him suffer, while simultaneously exposing the vanity in the lines “Nor am I all that much concerned / If she should think me dead”, by not so much intoning rather than de-toning them, was as touching as anything.

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Briefly Noted: Melodramas with the Vogts

Schumann / Strauss, Melodramas, Isabelle Vogt, Lars Vogt (released on February 4, 2022) CAvi 8553576D | 61'25"

File this one under the heading of Curiosities. German pianist Lars Vogt and his daughter, actress Isabelle Vogt, have recorded these three melodramas, Romantic poems recited to musical accompaniment. They are live recordings of performances given in 2018 at the Spannungen Festival, held in a hydroelectric plant in Heimbach, Germany, and then virtually in 2020, due to the pandemic. First are Robert Schumann's Zwei Balladen für Deklamation, op. 122, composed from 1852 to 1853, a short time before the composer's confinement to an asylum. In the "Ballade vom Haideknaben," written by Christian Friedrich Hebbel, a moorland apprentice is forced by his master to carry a sum of money to the next village. He dreams that he is murdered along the way for the money, and in a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, it happens.

In "Die Flüchtlinge," a poem by Percy Shelley translated into German by Julius Seybt, a woman flees her wedding day with her lover. They set out on the storm-tossed ocean in a small boat while her father and intended bridegroom watch from the castle above the port. This is arch-Romantic stuff, recited with emotional fervor by Isabelle Vogt. Schumann meant the musical phrases in the piano to be timed meticulously with the declamation of the poetry for maximal effect, and Lars Vogt does this with precision and a sense of wild abandon.

These more modest works, each only a few minutes, are dwarfed by Richard Strauss's "Enoch Arden," written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and translated into German by Adolf Strodtmann. At almost an hour to recite, this long poem tells the story of three childhood friends, a girl and two boys. The girl, Annie Lee, falls in love with the poorer and rougher boy, a sailor's lad named Enoch Arden. After they are married and have children, Enoch sets to sea and is thought lost. After a time, Annie, agrees to marry the wealthy Philip Ray, their mutual friend, who loves her and raises her children as his own. When Enoch miraculously returns home, he chooses not to let Annie know he is alive, seeing that all are happy. The poem was so famous that it gave its name to the Enoch Arden doctrine, a legal concept that a divorce may be granted if a spouse is believed dead, even if the lost spouse later returns. Strauss's music is in some ways more complex, but there are long stretches of poetry left unaccompanied.

On ClassicsToday: Strauss' Enoch Arden in a new Reference Recording

Granitic Enoch Arden From Bruno Ganz And Kirill Gerstein

Review by: Jens F. Laurson

Artistic Quality: ?

Sound Quality: ?

Monodramas are tricky to pull off. The text has to be very good and the music has to be better still, to fulfill its dual duty of underscoring the drama and offering enough interest on its own, when it does pipe up. The results vary: from the rare best, like the ingenious masterpiece that is Viktor Ullmann’s Die Weise von Liebe und Tod des Cornets Christoph Rilke, to the tawdry and banal, like Liza Lehmann’s The Happy Prince (based on one of Oscar Wilde’s lesser efforts). One of the few gems that works quite well is Richard Strauss’ Enoch Arden on Alfred Lord Tennyson’s ballad by that name. [continue reading]

Dip Your Ears, No. 251 (Meet Lise Davidsen, the next Hochdramatische)

Lise Davidsen sings Wagner & Strauss Philharmonia, Esa-Pekka Salonen Decca

Make no mistake about it: The young Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen, from little Stokke at the southern end of the Oslofjord, is *the* “Hochdramatische” of the near future. That much has been clear pretty much from the moment she stepped onto the stage of the Zurich Opera earlier this year, to give her first performance of Elizabeth in Wagner’s Tannhäuser – which she has already since reprised the rôle at the Munich Opera and the Bayreuth Festival. This debut recording on Decca, with the first-class backing of the Philharmonia under Esa-Pekka Salonen, cements the impression. If she’s the future, though, that’s not to say she has already arrived. As much as the Wagner and Strauss bits on this disc give her an opportunity to display her grand, blossoming voice, they also suggest that she hasn’t that much to say, yet. Her raw talent – at the base of which lies her effortlessly big, steely, single-edged voice – needs yet to be tempered by character or, barring that, depth of characterization. Especially in the opening “Dich, teure Halle”, Elisabeth’s prime cut aria in Tannhäuser, Davidsen comes across as shrill and overly dramatic, like someone with something to prove… more intent on shattering the Wartburg’s crown glass windows than expressing joyous anticipation and the lifting of a long-carried burden.

[Robert Levine's ClassicsToday review, similar but ultimately coming down more positively, can be found here: Magnificent Debut Recital By Lise Davidsen]

At the best of times, her voice gleams and shimmers like a Damascus steel: Hard but gleaming. Impressive? Very much. Pleasant? Not really. When she drops down to strike softer tones, though – towards the end of “Allmächt'ge Jungfrau, hör mein Flehen!”, the improvement is striking. That’s not really surprising, because it nearly always is highly impressive to hear huge voices sing softly. It’s what makes Jessye Norman’s account of Strauss’ Four Last Songs, despite glacial tempos, so marvelous: High-powered stratospheric lightness. There are hints of this in “Morgen!”, the iconic last of the Four [not last!] Songs op.27, where Salonen’s and the Philharmonia’s diaphanous garment drape Davidsen’s concentrated (rather pointed and slightly forced) ease to a combined gorgeous effect. The warmth that creeps into her voice for “Wiegenlied” is even more heartening, because it suggests that Davidsen’s palette is much wider than what is, for the most part, on show here. Her Four Last Songs, finally, are promising but not enough in their mildly anodyne ways to nudge any of your favorites off their pedestal. Not the double-creamy Norman, not the historical gem that is Lisa Della Casa’s much lighter, gleaming take, nor Janowitz with her voice of flattened silver. In songs like “Morgen”, “Cäcilie”, and “Wiegenlied”, the exuberant agility and sheer lust for life of a youngish Diana Damrau is far more gratifying. But if you want to hear the next big thing in this (and heavier) Fach, listen closely to Lise Davidsen all the same.

7/8

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On ClassicsToday: How Good is Karl Böhm's Alpine Symphony?

Karl Böhm’s Alpine Symphony Revisited

by Jens F. Laurson

Although the modern collector won’t necessarily be inclined to see it quite that way, Karl Böhm was the go-to conductor of “authentic” Strauss performances in the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s, the one who was in intimate contact with the composer, knew his wishes, and was... Continue Reading

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American Ballet Theater's surreal 'Whipped Cream' at the Kennedy Center

Whipped Cream (Act I), American Ballet Theater (photo by Gene Schiavone)
American Ballet Theater's visit to the Kennedy Center this week put a spotlight on new works by its most promising choreographers. After a mixed program of short works, it was time for the local premiere of Alexei Ratmansky's revival of Richard Strauss's lost ballet score, Schlagobers, seen on Friday night at the Kennedy Center Opera House. Ratmansky has dubbed the work by the English translation of Whipped Cream, and like that confection it floats light and fluffy on the tongue, quickly melts away to nothing, and may rot your teeth and upset your stomach.

Strauss apparently had plans for a third phase of his career, after symphonic tone poems and operas, as a ballet composer. The extravagant expense of Schlagobers, so soon in the wake of World War I, led to the end of his brief tenure at the Vienna State Opera's ballet company. The score is a frothy delight of decadent waltzes and phantasmagorical effects, worth studying for both balletomanes and Strauss lovers, a work that deserves to be heard again. Ratmansky did everyone a favor by resurrecting it, but he has likely not made the best version of the work possible.

Other Reviews: Sarah L. Kaufman, American Ballet Theatre’s ‘Whipped Cream’: A fleeting sugar high (Washington Post, February 2, 2018) Alastair Macaulay, Review: Alexei Ratmansky’s Ballet ‘Whipped Cream’ Is a Candyland Triumph (New York Times, May 23, 2017) ---, Review: Ratmansky’s Confectionery Shop Also Serves Ballet Poetry (New York Times, March 16, 2017)

The staging goes big, full frilly and pink, with a panoply of hallucinogenic costumes for the sweets that come to life in the indigestion nightmares of a Boy who overindulges in the candy shop while celebrating his first communion. Dancers playing the children are normal-sized, while the dancers playing adults wear large heads, some even seeming lifted up higher by their footwear (sets and costumes by Mark Ryden). After a series of dessert divertissements, Act I ends with a scene for the corps de ballet in veiled white bodysuits fluttering through a surreal whipped cream landscape, many of them entering humorously on a slide -- in what seems like a spoof of the Kingdom of the Shades scene in La Bayadère.

Ratmansky's choreography is antic and jam-packed with cutesy action and movement, to a fault. Precious few delectable moments for dance materialize. In the first act there was a lovely pairing for the Princess Tea Flower of Hee Seo and Prince Coffee of Cory Stearns, accompanied by flute and violin solos as light as a feather, including a tender pas de deux. The two other solos in the divertissment, for Prince Cocoa and Don Zucchero (sugar), were more comic and not as memorable. The many crazy costumes -- from Dr. Seuss-like long-necked giraffalopes to delightful miniature bouncing cupcakes -- are an endless source of hilarity.


Act II takes a turn for the humorously nightmarish, as the Boy (an energetic Jonathan Klein) awakens in a hospital room, watched over by sinister eyes, right out of a Salvador Dalí painting. The appropriately carnival-time lesson on gluttony switches from sweets to liquor, as the alcoholic doctor takes nips from the bottle in his pocket. In his own set of hallucinations, three liquor bottles come to life for another series of comic dances. Rising dancer Cassandra Trenary's Princess Praline was pert and adorable as she welcomed the still-delusional Boy into her kingdom of sweets. Some more space in the choreography, some room to breathe, would have been welcome, and the Kennedy Center Opera House Orchestra should probably have had a couple more rehearsal slots to pull this complex score together with more polish. Conductor Ormsby Wilkins's frantic gestures did not help at times, seeming to create more confusion among the musicians.

The next dance event at the Kennedy Center Opera House is the Washington Ballet's presentation of Romeo and Juliet, in the choreography of John Cranko made for Stuttgart Ballet, February 14 to 18.

Lawrence Brownlee, classical voice

Donizetti & Bellini: Allegro io son, L. Brownlee, Kaunas City Symphony, Kaunas State Choir, C. Orbelian (2016)

The Kennedy Center is skewing toward more popular forms of entertainment. It has turned out to be the hallmark of the tenure of the organization's new president, Deborah Rutter. In a formula familiar from many concert presenters, Renée Fleming has been called in to offer some star advice, for a set of concerts unimaginatively called "Renée Fleming VOICES." (Capital letters make it different!) The new series kicked off with its sole classical performance, by tenor Lawrence Brownlee. The rest of the season features jazz, musical theater, and cabaret.

It always takes my ears a few moments to adjust to the active vibrato in Brownlee's voice. Not unpleasant in any way, it is a prominent flutter, tightly coiled, but after some time passes my ear adjusts to it and can still perceive the center of the pitch. True to form Brownlee's strongest work came in arias from bel canto operas. Brownlee hit the first big high notes of the evening in "Seul sur la terre," from Donizetti's Dom Sébastien, Roi de Portugal. That vibrato, among other advantages, gives a high-energy buzz to Brownlee's notes off the top of the staff, which do not sound floated, in the sense that there is intensity and effort in them. This was more apparent in the even higher notes in "Terra amica," from Rossini's Zelmira, which was truly thrilling as Brownlee showed off the virtuosity of his runs and top notes. A close second was the closing set of spirituals, in classic arrangements by H. T. Burleigh.

A set of Strauss songs was more successful than seemed likely given Brownlee's strengths. The German diction was not always clear but especially in subtle songs like "Breit' über mein Haupt" he brought the same silky clarity and gentle phrasing that make his bel canto singing so pretty. With "Morgen" and "Die Nacht" pianist Justina Lee, for much of the evening merely a competent accompanist, was integral to the beauty of the performance. Finally with "Cäcilie," both artists cranked up the excitement for the song's dramatic climax, which was thrilling. An opening set of Liszt songs, some of which were heard more beautifully from Angela Meade in August, impressed less. With all due respect to i nostri amici italiani, if I never hear a set of these Italian art songs again for a decade, that would be fine by me. All was forgiven, however, by the choice of encore, a plangent rendition of Donizetti's Una furtiva lagrima.

The best news of the evening is that the Kennedy Center has fixed the buzzing sound that plagued concerts in the Family Theater earlier in the fall. The sound, something like a vibrating light fixture, was absent on Tuesday evening, although there was still just a whisper of unwelcome noise, perhaps from the ventilation system.

Lawrence Brownlee stars in Washington National Opera's upcoming production of Donizetti's La Fille du Régiment (November 12 to 20, but in only five of the eight performances), in the Kennedy Center Opera House.

NSO Program 2: Shakespeare at the Symphony (2/3)

Charles T. Downey, Valčuha shows a deft touch with NSO
Washington Classical Review, October 7

Joyce DiDonato, Brentano Quartet open Fortas series

Charles T. Downey, Brentano Quartet and DiDonato team up in Strauss and Heggie
Washington Classical Review, October 6

Ionarts at Large: BSO Tackles Difficult Work at Tanglewood

Conductor Giancarlo Guerrero leads the BSO and pianist Ingrid Fliter (photo by Hilary Scott)
It was reasonable to leave the Friday evening concert of the Boston Symphony Orchestra at Tanglewood in a relaxed mood. A cool breeze blanketed the Koussevitzky Music Shed as the orchestra finished a symphony-free program with soft, melodic works: Benjamin Britten’s arrangement of the Blumine movement from Mahler's third first symphony, and Brahms’ Second Serenade in A. Nashville Symphony Orchestra Music Director Giancarlo Guerrero led both works ably, with strong control over sound and phrasing. Skip ahead 24 hours to Saturday night and anyone still feeling the calming effects of those works was shaken out of their relaxed state by the pounding E minor chords for percussion and brass of John Adams’s massive Harmonielehre.

Guerrero again was leading the Boston players, providing relative consistency after five weekends of guest conductors as well as one weekend where Music Director Andris Nelsons was on the podium. With a schedule at Tanglewood that asks the orchestra to mount three different programs each weekend with minimal rehearsal, programming Harmonielehre was somewhat risky. Mixing elements of minimalism — pulsating rhythms, repetition and quicksilver ornamentation — with more traditional harmonies, the dense, three-part work is loaded with constant movement and is a heavy lift on few rehearsals. Perhaps this explains why it was the orchestra’s first performance of what has become one of the most successful post-WWII compositions.

Fortunately the BSO had several factors in its favor. A technically sound conductor with a clear beat, Guerrero is very comfortable with contemporary music. Second was the orchestra’s world-class skill and musicianship. The combination yielded an accurate first performance, although one that seemed to sacrifice speed and interpretation for safety, particularly in the first movement, whose lack of energy negated many of Adams’s musical effects.

The slower Part II, “The Anfortas Wound,” named for the legendary Fisher King, yielded a far better result. The somber movement’s second climax, quoting the screaming chords of the Adagio of Mahler’s tenth symphony, was appropriately vexing. Ditto an extended piccolo trumpet solo, performed with a gorgeous, otherworldly sound by Thomas Rolfs. The contrasting third part, “Meister Eckhardt and Quackie,” emanates from a dream Adams had of the German theologian (1260-1328) flying with Adams’ daughter, Emily, on his shoulders. Accordingly it’s a swirling, uplifting movement. Toward the end of it, Guerrero increased the tempo and energy level, leading to a triumphant conclusion on an E-flat major chord.

Other Reviews: Ken Ross, Soloist-turned-conductor impresses with NSO’s Mahler (Mass Live, August 7)

The Argentine pianist Ingrid Fliter had the unenviable task of being a late replacement for Daniil Trifonov, one of classical music’s current “It” pianists, whose ear malady prevented him from traveling. A Chopin specialist, Fliter was more than up to the task of dispatching Chopin’s second piano concerto. Her light touch and fine technique were well suited to this composition, completed when Chopin was just 20. It made one wonder how a more demonstrative player, like Trifonov, would have handled the concerto. Again for Guerrero and the BSO, though, it was more a matter of keeping soloist and orchestra together throughout the piece than making bold interpretive statements. Fliter cooperated, keeping tempi steady and eschewing rubato, allowing the music, rather than her technical prowess, to take the lead. To his credit, Guerrero proved a sensitive collaborator, following Fliter expertly. As was the case in the Adams, Guerrero was most effective in the middle slow movement, said to be a paean to Chopin’s boyhood amours, as he correctly highlighted the interplay between Fliter and bassoonist Richard Svoboda.

Guerrero’s comfort with slow movements gave your reviewer concern about the final work, Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks of Richard Strauss. There was little need to worry. The orchestra bounded through the Strauss, a Boston Symphony staple, alternating between loud and soft passages, climaxing with a raucous gallows scene. Hornist James Sommerville handled the solo horn parts with style and William R. Hudgins was appropriately irreverent on clarinet. Indeed Guerrero proved adept in both quiet moments and boisterous ones.

Ionarts in Santa Fe: Further Thoughts on 'Capriccio'

Amanda Majeski (The Countess) in Capriccio (photo © Ken Howard for Santa Fe Opera)
Charles T. Downey, Santa Fe Opera, part 1: Celebrating 60 with two rarities and Strauss (of course)
Washington Post, July 31

Strauss, Capriccio, E. Schwarzkopf, N. Gedda, D. Fischer-Dieskau, Philharmonia Orchestra, W. Sawallisch (EMI, 1957)

FURTHER THOUGHTS:
Santa Fe Opera gave the American premiere of Richard Strauss's Capriccio in 1958, not long after the 1942 world premiere in wartime Munich. It was last performed here in 1993, and the only time I have ever reviewed Capriccio was at the Opéra de Paris in 2004.

Capriccio is a meta-opera that is dizzyingly self-reflective. Set in the 18th century, two wealthy patrons, a Countess and Count who are sister and brother, invite a group of artists to their house outside Paris to discuss a work to be commissioned for the Countess's birthday. All the arts are represented -- a composer (Flamand), a poet (Olivier), an actress (Clairon), a theater director (La Roche), two Italian opera singers, a dancer, even a prompter -- vying for the attention of their patrons, one inclined more toward the popular arts (the Count) and one toward the higher ones (the Countess). In the end, the Countess decides that only an opera can feature all of the arts she loves equally, and the opera will tell the story of the very evening that has just played out.

Strauss himself understood the work's faults, telling his librettist, Clemens Krauss, as quoted by Michael Kennedy in his book Richard Strauss: Man, Musician, Enigma: "Never forget that our Capriccio is no piece for the broad public, any more than it should be played in a big house where only a third of the text can be understood. [It is] a dainty morsel for cultural gourmets, not very substantial musically -- at all events, not so succulent that the music will compensate for it if the general public does not take a liking to the libretto ... I have no faith in its theatrical effectiveness in the usual sense." Little surprise, then, that the house on July 27 had the greatest number of empty seats I can remember seeing in Santa Fe.

Strauss stacks the argument between music and words for supremacy in opera in his own favor, creating the most beautiful music for Flamand when he sets Olivier's sonnet to music, far surpassing the effect previously when the same poem is read aloud and unaccompanied. Along with Galeano Salas, the other Italian singer, also good, was Shelly Jackson from Manassas, Virginia, a former apprentice who in 2014 stepped into the role of Norina in Don Pasquale when the scheduled singer had to withdraw. Amanda Majeski did not impress in her debut in the truly awful staging of Vivaldi's Griselda by Peter Sellars in 2011, and she was not up to the demands of the Countess here either, brittle at the top and too easily covered by the orchestra to be effective. She will sing the role of the Countess in Washington National Opera's Le Nozze di Figaro this fall, and her Count at the Kennedy Center will be Joshua Hopkins, who made the same capable impression here as Olivier as he did as Papageno in a Santa Fe Magic Flute a decade ago. Majeski's Count in this Capriccio, Craig Verm, a former SFO apprentice, had a competent debut, but nothing remarkable.

Other Reviews: James M. Keller, Capriccio charms at Santa Fe Opera (Santa Fe New Mexican, July 24) John Stege, Ultimate Strauss: SFO’s Golden Hour (Santa Fe Reporter, July 27)

This beautiful score features Strauss at his most chameleon-like, quoting from a broad range of composers, including himself, a vivid reminder that he is, as scholar Michael Kennedy put it, "music's incomparable jester-poet." Leo Hussain's conducting did little to help this bit of elegant repartee shine, and the pit often sounded a little at odds with each other in the countless starts, shifts, and stops of the work. The overall musical cohesion was at its best in the two octets that show the ultimate power of opera, with eight different character perspectives jumbled together simultaneously. Some of Hussein's gestures seemed needlessly combative toward the musicians, as he repeatedly called for a louder sound from one of the musicians in the slender baroqueux accompaniment to the dance pieces, for example, or menacingly jabbed his finger at one of the Italian singers throughout their duet. The decision to take the intermission sheepishly added by Strauss was a mistake, as it comes at a drama-sapping point, just after the Countess has asked the Major-Domo to serve chocolate.

For the famous string sextet that opens the work, the six musicians were seated on stage, contrary to the composer's score indication, in a neo-Rococo chamber music salon in the midst of the Countess's more obviously modern home (sets and costumes by Tobias Hoheisel), which helped project their (not always ideal) sound. Director Tim Albery, whose stagings can be hit or miss, did little to make the work jump off the page. The period is updated to roughly the time of the opera's premiere, but without any reference to the horrors that Strauss was trying to forget by writing this escapist work. (Really, if there were any time for gratuitously adding Nazis to an opera, this would be it.) The mise en abyme suggested by the chamber music salon, where the Countess has her gorgeous final scene as night falls — the escapism of opera in general, and of this opera in particular — was not enough to lift the work above its surface wit. In that glorious final scene, Albery has the Countess see her reflection not in a mirror, as Strauss wanted, but in the French doors at the back of the salon, an alteration abetted by the supertitles, which avoid any translation of the word "mirror" heard from the singers. It may seem an insignificant change, but without it much of the work's meaning likely sails over the head of viewers unfamiliar with the libretto.

This production runs through August 19, at Santa Fe Opera.

Ionarts in Santa Fe: Angela Meade

The Festival of Song series from Performance Santa Fe continued on Sunday afternoon. Although she is not featured on the Santa Fe Opera season this summer, soprano Angela Meade is in town, and her recital at the Santa Fe Scottish Rite Center was an affair not to be missed. Since Meade is not singing opera here this year, series director and accompanist Joe Illick allowed as how she could sing some opera arias along with the art songs.

Meade's is not a voice naturally suited to the more rarefied demands of art song. Two simple and slow songs by Bellini, Vaga luna and Ma rendi pur contento, were pretty but bordering on nondescript. In other cases, like Strauss's Zueignung, she just did not need the sort of vocal power applied to the music. These were only minor flaws in what was an intense, almost overwhelming recital that reinforced the preeminence of this extraordinarily gifted soprano. Meade brought subtlety to Liszt's song Oh! quand je dors, with a pearly control of her diminuendo and a longing turn of phrase in the memorable final phrase. At the keyboard Illick was right on the money in following Meade's twists and turns of rubato, and his left hand provided plenty of dynamic drive in larger songs like Liszt's Enfant, si j'étais roi.

In songs and especially opera arias where more squillo was needed, Meade excelled, the power of her voice and plenteous breath support like a thrilling electric surge. The restlessness of Strauss's Cäcilie, the soaring high parts of Korngold's Mariettas Lied, the soaring conclusion of Strauss's Zueignung -- all hit the right mark. When composers drew on the strengths of a voice like hers, it was the best of all, as in the intense crescendo and diminuendo at the opening of Pace, pace, mio Dio, from Verdi's La forza del destino, and especially the shrieked curses at the end of that piece ("Maledizione!"). Ebben?...Ne andrò lontana from Catalani's La Wally, music used to such memorable effect in Jean-Jacques Beineix's crazy 80s film Diva, made for an equally exciting conclusion. Most sopranos who sing Victor Herbert's Art Is Calling for Me (I Want to Be a Prima Donna) as an encore would get an Ionarts Eye-Roll Award, but Meade has earned it.

The next concert in the Festival of Song series will feature soprano Leah Crocetto (August 4, 4 pm), sadly after my departure from Santa Fe.