Fischer, NSO Offer Czech Bouquet

Iván Fischer's second weekend of National Symphony Orchestra performances (see the review of last week's concerts with Nikolaj Znaider) featured a selection of his “favorites” and opened with a seldom-heard gem: Dvořák’s Notturno in B major for string orchestra, op. 40. Fully exploiting the warm disposition of that particular key, the strings gently rove over a pedal-point lasting a few minutes and finally resolve simply from V to I. The work then moves forward with pizzicati beneath to a generously drawn-out ending. This pleasurable work was a foreshadowing of the second half of the program to come.

Available at Amazon: Mozart, Flute Concertos and Concerto for Flute and Harp, Emmanuel Pahud, Berlin Philharmonic, Claudio Abbado (1997)

Emmanuel Pahud, Berlin Philharmonic principal flute player since age 22, joined the NSO for the rest of the first half in Mozart’s Flute Concerto No. 1 (G major, K. 313). With a brassy, almost reed-like tone and fast, narrow vibrato, Pahud offered a multitude of detail in articulation and phrasing. The orchestra did an excellent job attempting to match the level of detail, fluency, and gesture in Pahud’s playing. Fischer, in the Q&A following the performance, perhaps but it best: “Most instrumentalists play on their instruments; Pahud’s flute is an extension of his heart.”

Fischer loaded the second half of the program with his “favorites” by interspersing picturesque tone poems from Smetana’s Má vlast (“My Country”), with a selection of Dvořák’s Moravian Duets (from folk poetry orchestrated by Tibor Gátay) with soprano Carolyn Betty and mezzo-soprano Kelley O’Connor. Fischer described his programming scheme as being centered on waves: “As waves are very beautiful in music, I am keen to present contrast and unity in the form of waves.” Dvořák’s brief peasant duets were largely sad, yet always with striking beauty. Even the wedding song There on Our Roof had a very serious disposition. It was a pleasure to hear Betty’s excellent musicianship and color in her second annual appearance with the NSO and Fischer. O’Connor, though sometimes lagging behind Betty, was superb.

Photo of conductor Iván Fischer by Joost van Velsen, courtesy of Harrison/Parrott

One heard the churning and rustling of an entire ecosystem in Smetana’s tone poem From Bohemian Woods and Fields, which eventually turns into a polka. The bassoon “snore” in the tone poem Šárka was well done, while Vltava (also known by the Czech river’s German name, The Moldau, and last heard only this past April from the NSO) vividly depicted the river’s origins in the forest to its triumphant passage through Prague – the hunter’s horn, wedding feast, castle, and nymphs along the way are also a treat. You are encouraged to experience this unique and memorable program.

Further highlights of the extended post-concert Q&A included Fischer referring to audition committees as “the police” who care more about mistakes than feeling. Fischer desires “real artists with something to say…if there are two normal candidates and a crazy one, I always take the crazy one; the committee always takes the square one.” Fischer responded to a question about period instruments and his future Concertgebouw appearance leading the St. Matthew Passion of Bach by stating that “I love original instruments and work with them a lot, though they do not have an exclusive right to the music; the person is more important than the instrument.”

Other Reviews: Tim Page, Fischer's Recipe: Stir Vigorously With Baton (Washington Post, November 10)

After urging the audience not to cough at the most interesting points in works, charmingly implying that they might not be listening well, the artists fielded a question about the relevance of music criticism today. Pahud and Fischer agreed that good criticism does an important service for the community and noted that there is less space for it in today’s media. Fischer noted that in papers from the 1920s and 30s, essays discussing performances could be found. Pahud mentioned that there are many more people reading newspapers or online than are sitting in the concert halls. Fischer then noted that he finds critical reviews useful and not bothersome as musicians are always in discussion and disagree continuously.

This concert, without the AfterWords event featuring the artists, repeats this afternoon (November 9, 1:30 pm) and tomorrow evening (November 10, 8 pm).

Fernando Botero: Abu Ghraib

Other Reviews: Erica Jong, Botero Sees the World's True Heavies at Abu Ghraib (Washington Post, November 4)

There have been some discussions on several art blogs centering around artistic reactions to 9/11. Some very good examples were posted, but it’s such a raw over-whelming subject, it may take several years, although it has definitely affected us all to the core. The devastation continued with our venture into Iraq, and it too is an open and very complex wound, full of violence, anger, despair, and hopelessness. Besides documenting the day to day, how can an artist formulate a broad statement? There are so many blunders and horrors: where to begin?

In ART of CONFRONTation, currently showing at the Katzen Arts Center at American University, artist Fernando Botero takes on the one subject that may just well be remembered most about our venture into Iraq - torture and, most prominently, how it was practiced at Abu Ghraib.

Many are familiar with Botero’s work, the oversized, exaggerated figures often composed in quaint domestic themes. This exhibit will blow that all away with in-your-face images of horrendous and grossly humiliating tactics used by interrogators/sadistic buffoons, at Abu Ghraib prison in Baghdad.


Water boarding, a form of torture that unfortunately some in government still need to debate the merits of, was merely one form used at the prison on both men and women. Botero, outraged by published reports of the abuse by journalist Seymour Hersh (in The New Yorker and soon after spread around the world), documents it all in stunning detail through a series of more than 75 paintings and drawings, completed in just one year. The artist has called it the most productive time of his career.


This is the first complete showing in the U.S. of the Abu Ghraib series. It's a very difficult subject and the imagery graphic, but very important to see. Sadly, in this country, the initial reaction to the sadistic behavior at Abu Ghraib was mostly dismissive, as it was when Botero first tried to display this work. This exhibit offers an artistic glimpse into how many in the world view the United States as a result.

ART of CONFRONTation runs through December 30 at the Katzen Arts Center.

Yee-Haw Onegin

On Halloween, the Staatsoper Munich opened its new production of Eugene Onegin. On the account of one small and grainy picture, it gained instant notoriety among chattering and blogging classes. This is a review from the third performance, November 3rd.

An overtly gay Tchaikovsky stand-in, frolicking about mid-opera on a stage replete with swirling disco ball. Where or when could I ever have seen such a thing?!

Oh, right. That would be the last time I saw a Tchaikovsky opera at the Staatsoper in Munich

Back then it was Pique Dame during the shepherdess intermezzo—a David Alden production (still in the repertoire) and one that, disco ball aside, made sense of the opera in a way only the best directions do. This time it was Krzysztof Warlikowski’s turn to dust off that prop, all in the service of his – infamous before it even started – “Brokeback Mountain” Eugene Onegin. Did his direction give intelligible and instructive cues as to the meaning(s) of the opera in the way that Alden’s did? To give away the answer: Maybe not.

But Warlikowski failed much less spectacularly than one might have assumed after the hoity-toity outrage the production received at the hands of bloggers (and this on account of a single picture of the production). Of course, local critics, too, were merciless – and they had actually seen the production that opened on All Hallows Eve. As it turns out, Warlikowski’s Onegin remains so tame for the first four scenes that during intermission even the most conservative audience members (by now having read the reviews and expecting the absolute worst) were confused only by their lack of confusion and outrage. Instead, most had been amused by Warlikowski’s production. An American couple, seat-neighbors at a previous Roberto Deveraux performance, had bought their Onegin tickets without knowing of the furor. Worrying before the performance, the wife said that she wished not to be here at all, anticipating a travesty of travesties. Later, chuckling throughout the first four scenes, she admitted with as much surprise as relief that it actually had been rather “maaaarvelous”.

That’s mostly because the acting was well done and its relation to the text always comprehensible. A theater director by primary trade, Warlikowski cares much about acting and movements and music making sense as a unit. If only the orchestra had followed the singers’ music as closely as the prescribed stage-action did, the contribution from the pit would not have been the weakest spot of the night.

To get that out of the way: General Director Kent Nagano directed the less-than-secure orchestra in a square reading of the score, making the music sound very direct and thereby achieving much clarity but little lyricism. The brass was secure for most of the opera; the strings had several sour moments, most notably in the Waltz of the fourth scene. Judging from reviews from the day before, it must have been a significant improvement from opening night but still not up to the high standards of the Staatsorchester. When I last saw Onegin, in February at the MET (Renée Fleming, Dmitri Hvorostovsky), I had not been enchanted by the MET orchestra under Gergiev’s baton; but in retrospect it seems not to have been so bad after all.

So what does Warlikowski, a Stettin-born, self-declared “cosmopolitan” who has lived and worked in Paris, New York, Hamburg, in Croatia, Italy, Israel, Canada, and Poland , do to poor Eugene Onegin? His interview in TAKT (in German) and in the accompanying program book (those lavish 150-page “notes” at the Staatsoper, chock full of accompanying essays, pictures, and assorted poems, are no booklets) do shed some light. There is the murder of Lensky seen as an Amfortas-like wound that completes Onegin as a character. And the expanded upon close relation between the two men helps to make their seemingly juvenile and rash decision to duel to the death seem sound. Even for two adults. There are the plenty references to Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain and Tony Kushner’s Angels in America (which Warlikowski has directed).



The parallels drawn between Tchaikovsky, his life, and the influences on his Onegin, and then the director team’s interpretation thereof are not as far fetched as they might seem. The composer’s homosexuality, to start with the most obvious, is not conjecture. Tchaikovsky was as fruity as a Pineapple Spritzer, no two ways about it. (Just read his letters to his brothers to get a uncommonly candid taste of it.) Tchaikovsky’s disapproval of Tatiana being coldly turned down by Onegin (who could be seen as written with a degree of self-loathing on the composer’s part) may well have led to Tchaikovsky’s own reassessment of having turned down Antonina Miljukova’s emotional letter and marriage proposal.

Lensky’s revolt, the irrational anger against his friend, and Onegin’s disdain of Lensky’s intent to marry can also be made to fit a subtext in which Lensky, in deference to Onegin, may have 'given up' more than he should like to admit publicly or even to himself. Gay or not, Onegin is quite disgusted with Lensky’s bourgeois choice and thus hurt he cynically and heartlessly mocks him. Lensky, in the throws of anger (and guilt, too, for having submitted in one way or another to Onegin), challenges Onegin to a duel, dismissing calmer and more reasonable voices. The action essentially becomes a fight between Olga and Onegin for Lensky’s attention and friendship, sexual or otherwise. A ‘best friend’ fighting against the prospect of ‘losing’ his buddy and the fine life they had, as that buddy is about to subscribe to the standard social model of existence.



All fine, even if the gay subtext need not have been quite so obvious. The opera is not, after all, about bi- or homosexuality; it is about human emotions that transcend social norms and sexuality. Jealousy, love, devotion, anger, submission, humiliation etc. are not homo- or hetero- or bi-sexual, they simply are. No harm was done by having Tatiana (Olga Guryakova) and her family watch figure skating (to Tchaikovsky’s Rome & Juliet Overture, played before the lights were dimmed, with patrons still filing into their seats). Nor by arranging the duet of the naively joyful Olga (Elena Maximova) and Tatiana as a Karaoke session on Malgorzata Szczesniak’s sets that, along with the costumes, looks like a hybrid of the late 60s and a Technicolor modern-day Moscow). Iris Vermillion’s Larina is portrayed as a still attractive socialite who won’t say no to dance and entertainment. In the letter scene, Tatiana tape-records her feelings— no different, really, from a compulsively written letter—and the rejection takes place under the eyes of the choir, making it all the more humiliating for Tatiana and Onegin who is (to some comedic effect) disturbed by her overt show of emotions.

The Waltz-scene moves the guests into chairs off to one side and while this staging may be convenient riddance of a difficult-to-direct crowd, the arrangement does make perfect sense for the way Tatiana’s birthday party is arranged. Here especially does Warlikowski hit the nail on the head: In depicting a modern upper-class Russian societal situation, Triquet (Guy de Mey) is a crooner and entertainer for hire (a bit more Elvis-impersonator than the conceited, drunken, French-speaking clown Pushkin makes fun of) and the male strippers who entertain the (bored) ladies don’t surprise much. It’s a Russian Desperate Housewives, by and large convincingly acted out.

Only Onegin (Michael Volle) does not quite fit the picture. In this scene, he is bona fide distraught at Lensky’s anger and apologetically tries to console his friend. I missed the superior carelessness, laced with arrogance, that rides Onegin like the Devil and which he cannot let go until face to face with Lensky (Christoph Strehl) in the duel. And at that point, of course, it is already too late to effectively regret.

As the (real) audience files back into their seats after intermission, nine scantly clad cowboys suggestively lounge about on stage for Scene Five (the Scena prior to Lensky’s aria in Act Two) before they saunter behind stage during the “Duel Scene”.

Except that there was neither a duel – nor a “scene”, per se.



Onegin and Lensky wake up in (literally or metaphorically) the same bed. Lensky’s second, Zaretsky – more mafia-thug than gentleman, is sung by Günther Groissböck who also sings Prince Gremin, a touch that remains almost unnoticed due to his two wildly differing costumes. With the aria out of the way, the dueling gets under way. Lensky takes his shirt off, jumps back into bed where the sole revolver lies. Onegin gets there first and shoots Lensky through the chest. There was a palpable collective “WTF” that went through the opera house. But everything is explained as the disco ball descends, blue velvet curtains drawn around stage and the gay cowboys enter a-dancing the Polonaise. Their slow-motion carousing and pillow fights frighten Onegin who, panicked and threatened, points his gun in futile defense against these (his) nightmarish visions Meanwhile the only thought that came to this reviewer’s mind was : “Hey – pretty good choreography on those Polonaising cowboys!”

This scene elicited what all audience members were looking forward to: the give and take of vigorous boos yelled from all ranks of the house and the contrarian “Bravos” accompanied by loud applause which lasted just over a minute. Once that was taken care of Kent Nagano cracked a smile and everything was back to normal.

Act Three is played out with the entire theater lit out in subdued red like a revue show. Tatiana is no longer the naively enthusiastic, darkly romantic teenager. She has grown into in her new role as a high society wife: steeled but not without feeling, rational but not without pain. Much like Onegin (though more sympathetically so), she is neither ‘good’ nor ‘bad’ but merely reacts to her surroundings, dealing with them as befits the situation. And she is right, of course, to turn down Onegin who may be genuine in his feelings but has them for all the wrong reasons. Pushkin’s, Tchaikovsky’s and thankfully Warlikowski’s Eugene Onegin, too, is not a Russian “Pride & Prejudice”. Onegin really is bad news; the motivations for his actions questionable and obscure, perhaps even to himself.

At this point, to the surprise of no one, a line of swaying drag queens enters, smoking, and sipping cocktails. Gremin gets to sing his aria; Onegin, to lament. Then: more drag queens, silently commenting on the scene like a, err… very Greek chorus. Oh, what a bitter fate. Curtain. Eight minutes of generous applause and a tender smidgen of boos.

An attending Russian critic, forewarned by her compatriot friends from Munich (Russian expatriates have established an effective Global Early Warning System as regards opera and ballet productions), merely shrugged approvingly after it all and said, “I don’t know what my friends’ problem was. There was nothing so outrageous about it. You can interpret it that way.”

What helped the reception were no doubt the vocal contributions. Elena Maximova’s Olga might be a fairly small part but she sang excellently throughout, her fresh and radiant mezzo hues almost overshadowing Olga Guryakova’s Tatjana. The latter was frenetically cheered for her very lively and lyrical performance (occasionally pushing a bit toward the top). Michael Volle was an expressive and resounding Onegin, a role he seems to have grown into very nicely. Christoph Strehl sounded under stress and hesitant; near his limits. Usually that would not be not an example of the finest possible singing but it actually befit the character of Lensky very well. Groissböck got the inevitable applause for Gremin’s aria which is just too beautiful not to cheer and was, at any rate, sung honorably. Iris Vermillion, too, was darkly delightful with a chocolaty Larina ; the rest (Elena Zilio’s Filippyevna, Guy de Mey’s Triquet) more or less without fault.

All pictures © Wilfried Hösl, published with kind permission of the Staatsoper München.

A View from the Bridge

Catherine Malfitano and Kim Josephson in A View from the Bridge, Washington National Opera, 2007, photo by Karin Cooper

The Washington National Opera’s production of William Bolcom’s operatic adaptation of Arthur Miller’s earthy play (premiered by the Lyric Opera of Chicago in 1999 and staged by Frank Galati) shows the company’s commitment to remounting new American works after their premieres. The Chicago production, now being presented to D.C. area audiences by the WNO, also features three leads from the original production and the two arias added by Bolcom for the 2002 Metropolitan Opera premiere. The libretto had heavy input from both Miller and Arnold Weinstein.

Set in the Italian neighborhood of Red Hook (Brooklyn) in the 1950s, A View from the Bridge centers around longshoreman Eddie Carbone (baritone Kim Josephson) and his over-protective and eventually destructive relationship with his adult niece Catherine (Christine Brandes), whom he raised, and her fiancé, Rodolpho (Gregory Turay), one of two cousins of Eddie’s tormented wife Bea (Catherine Malfitano) just off the boat from Italy. The work opens with a black-and-white projection of the Brooklyn Bridge encompassing the entire stage and the capable chorus singing “sometimes when the tide is right, you smell the Meditarranean air.” Brilliantly, the back wall slides were slowly changed to gently modify the audience’s perspective for each scene. For example, multiple vantages of the Brooklyn Bridge were first shown, followed by a panorama of the gritty neighborhood from above, and finally a view from the back window of an urban dwelling with laden clotheslines strung between buildings. The set, identical for both acts, incorporates the interior of the Carbones’ modest apartment and space for outdoor scenes. Changing between the two only required a new backdrop and lighting.

Bolcom’s score takes on the role of rigorously supporting the dialect-laden text at all times with changes of orchestration and angle in nearly every sentence. Does this place the music in a secondary role? In a 1999 interview with Roger Pines, Bolcom stated:

There will be certain episodes in which I will require less than the most beautiful bel canto kind of voice production, simply because it’s correct to the sentiment and the style of the sentence being said. I’m talking about things that have to be expressed in straight, Red Hook, 'rough neighborhood-in-Italy' kind of diction. But there will be places in the music where you can tell that I’m calling for more lyricism, and other places where it’s almost recitative. There are sections where I’ve decided to use pitched speech and other places where just the rhythms are indicated.

The most intense musical moments involve basic upward intervals of an octave or more by the female singers. While Bolcom may not fully exploit the human voice, his score, as previously mentioned, consistently supports the libretto; however, the magic of opera lies in the text’s support of the music. Like Volpone at Wolf Trap last June, one left the opera thinking that the composer did a superb job accommodating a pushy librettist.

Other Articles: Lucia Anderson, Opera with a Modern Voice (Fredericksburg Free Lance-Star, November 8) Tim Page, A Stunning, Though Bleak, 'View From The Bridge' (Washington Post, November 5) T. L. Ponick, WNO's incomparable 'View' (Washington Times, November 5) Tim Smith, Opera has a grand 'View' (Baltimore Sun, November 1) Washington National Opera Rehearsal Journal Blog

Eddie’s perverted infatuation with his young adult niece Catherine left him fatally jealous of the boyish good looks of her new beau Rodolpho (tenor Gregory Turay), an illegal immigrant cousin of his wife’s staying with them temporarily. Turay’s warm voice matched well to the aria “New York Lights,” in which Rodolpho dreams of singing on Broadway instead of working as a laborer in the shipyard. This aria infuriates Eddie, who brazenly dismisses Rodolpho as “a hit-and-run guy with bright lights in his eyes.” Rodolpho reassures Catherine that “it is you I love, not America,” just after refusing to take Catherine to impoverished Italy where the other cousin Marco (bass Richard Bernstein) has a wife and kids. Their survival depends on his American remittances – how interesting to see the immigration issue portrayed just a few generations ago.

When Eddie, drunk from imported Scotch taken from a cargo shipment, comes home early and catches the pair exiting the bedroom, violence ensues, with Eddie eventually locking lips with Catherine, and then Rodolpho. Eddie’s lawyer Alfieri (the superb baritone John Del Carlo) advises Eddie that “[Catherine] can’t marry you…wish her luck; let her go.” Alfieri also cryptically advises against turning the cousins in to the immigrations police. Though extremely effective, Bolcom’s use of orchestral silence at the murder was too generous a gesture toward theater. The exceptional chorus, who was often an eerie extension of Eddie’s conscience (“you got no friends, Eddie”) sings “this is the end of the story, goodnight.” The work ends on a soothing major chord followed by a plucked bass note.

Bass Richard Bernstein’s rendition of Marco’s dark aria “A man goes free on a ship called hunger” was especially moving. Catherine (Christine Brandes) was portrayed confidently, though she could have benefited from more expressivity in tone color; Bea’s exclamation “you know you can never have her, Eddie!” was striking, though Catherine Malfitano’s rich tone was more-often-than-not stuck in the throat, and her r’s were unnecessarily hard, even in dialect. Kim Josephson was increasingly excellent as Eddie, musically and dramatically, throughout the performance. Take the opportunity to experience this production, especially as rumors have reached the ears of Ionarts that this production could be La Malfitano’s last appearance on the operatic stage.

There are four more performances of A View from the Bridge, beginning tonight (November 8, 7:30 pm) and continuing through November 17. A limited number of $25 tickets are available through the Access to Opera Tickets program, for the November 8 and 14 performances only. These tickets must be purchased in person at the box office, starting at 10 am on the day of the performance.

Les Boréades

Available at Amazon: Rameau, Les Boréades, B. Bonney, P. Agnew, L. Naouri, Les Arts Florissants, W. Christie (2004)

The only thing better than Rameau would be Rameau as performed by Les Arts Florissants under William Christie, and if it is staged by Robert Carsen at the Opéra national de Paris, you have a perfect night of theater. Les Boréades was the last of Rameau's tragic operas, after a latter career as a court composer providing musical entertainments. It was planned for a performance in the year before the composer's death and mysteriously abandoned. Since its revival by John Eliot Gardiner, the opera has been recorded and performed, including several instrumental pieces included in Marc Minkowski's remarkable disc Une symphonie imaginaire in 2005 (the Tambourin in this YouTube clip is a delight).

The libretto is based on one of those obscure mythological stories so beloved of the 18th century. According to custom the Queen of Bactria, Alphise, must marry a descendant of Boreas, god of the north wind. In love with a man named Abaris, she steps down from the throne to marry him. Boreas whisks her away to his dark kingdom, only to be pursued by Abaris. Apollo saves the lovers, revealing that Abaris is his son by a Boread nymph, the deus ex machina moment shown in the image at left, with Nicolas Rivenq suspended above the stage.

The singing is generally exquisite, beginning with Barbara Bonney as Aphise, vocally rich and dramatically affecting. Paul Agnew's voice has positives and negatives, tending towards a fluttery vibrato and discoloration at loud dynamics, but when he hits those high haute-contre notes in that pure head voice ("Volez, volez, zéphyrs, hâtez-vous"), all is forgiven. Laurent Naouri's Boréas is equal parts thick-timbred menace and oily stage presence. Toby Spence has a nice turn as a full-voiced evil suitor, Calisis (see the YouTube video below). Christie's leadership of Les Arts Florissants is, as usual, an inspiration: a Baroque ensemble in the pit of a major opera house and sounding phenomenal. Carsen's staging is minimalistic, odd, but visually delectable, with tableaux of seasonal color behind the stark white-black costumes, much of it skimpy (sets and costumes by Michael Levine). The dancers -- all of the dance music is included, saints be praised -- are members of the Canadian troupe La La La Human Steps, choreographed by Édouard Lock, with his signature mixture of classical steps and jerky, hyperphysical movement. A DVD well worth owning -- and the only version of this worthy opera -- not least for the 60-minute documentary featuring interviews with all of the artists involved.

Opus Arte OA 0899 D


Toby Spence as Calisis, Les Boréades, directed by Robert Carsen,
Opéra national de Paris, 2003

New CDs from Andrew Manze and Richard Egarr

Available at Amazon: Schubert, Violin Sonatas, A. Manze, R. Egarr (released on October 9, 2007)

Part of the reason that we were able to hear Andrew Manze and Richard Egarr in an excellent duo recital earlier this week was that they are promoting their new CD of early Schubert violin sonatas. Played on two 19th-century instruments, the sound is much fuller and more incisive, the violin especially (Pierre Pacherelle, Nice, 1834), than what we heard in the recital. The four sonatas selected were all changed from their original title of sonata to smaller genres like sonatina or duo, and none was published during Schubert's lifetime. They are not exactly juvenilia -- the term means little with a composer like Schubert, who was so startlingly prolific and simultaneously short-lived -- and Manze and Egarr are hardly rescuing these pieces from obscurity (although no earlier recording of these pieces has made much of an impact on me).

Some of the tracks that have merited repeated listening are the slow movement of D. 384 and the last movement of D. 408 (both noted in the review of the recital, too). One wishes that Manze and Egarr had chosen the A minor sonata, D. 385, although it was probably too long and also requires forceful playing possibly not a good match for the instruments heard at Clarice Smith. Especially its melancholy first movement, with enigmatic big melodic leaps, is worthwhile. Many aspects of the fast movements especially bring the young Schubert into comparison with Beethoven, the clever, quick scherzo of D. 574 and melodies consisting of short rhythmic motifs. The value of this disc is in those historic instruments and in the sensibilities of the performers, both major figures in the British historically informed performance movement who have been playing together for years. A truly authentic performance is nearly impossible -- even a baroqueux nut like me admits that -- but this disc gets to the historical heart of these works.

Harmonia Mundi HMU 907445

Available at Amazon: Bach, Das Wohltemperierte Clavier, vol. 1, R. Egarr (harpsichord) (released on October 9, 2007)

The real test, one might say, of Bradley Lehman's recently proposed theory of precisely what tempered tuning J. S. Bach used for his own harpsichord would be how it sounds on the work intended to demonstrate it, the two books of the Well-Tempered Clavier. That is, the theoretical bravura of that set of pieces, a prelude and fugue for each major and minor key in each volume, is that it would expose the wolf tunings on an instrument without the right tempering. Richard Egarr writes in his liner essay for his new recording of Book I of the WTC that Prof. Lehman's theory has

now been thrown around the Internet and hugely debated, resulting in the seemingly inevitable opposing camps of believers and non-believers.
I am a believer.

WTC on Piano: Angela Hewitt Till Fellner Glenn Gould

One may think that yours truly is contained within that elliptical phrase "around the Internet," as I have expressed doubts about the theory, not about its plausibility but about the possibility of actually proving it without more explicit evidence. Ultimately, it matters little: Egarr uses Lehman's tuning, and the 1991 Joel Katzman harpsichord, a copy of a 17th-century Ruckers instrument from 1638, sounds beautiful. The warm sound, captured in Haarlem's Doopsgezinde Kerk, preserves more tone than mechanical action, but enough of the latter to add excitement to the texture (one odd loss of background sound occurs at 2:12 of track 8 on the second CD, but that may be an anomaly). As noted of some of Egarr's other recordings, his pace can be leisurely and the hesitations in some of the moto perpetuo type of preludes (C major and C minor, to name a couple) border on cloying. Egarr uses individualistic articulation and timing to good effect, however, in distinguishing voices from one another in the fugues.

Not being the sort of person who could settle for only one recording of the Well-Tempered Clavier, it is hard to compare apples and oranges with all of the recordings available. If forced to live with only one recording, as with the Goldberg Variations, it would have to be harpsichord for me. The title indicates, as Egarr notes, that Bach's intention, if one can be discerned at all, is that the pieces could be played by any keyboard instrument. To my ear, it sounds the best on the harpsichord, but there are several fine recordings on modern piano (those by Hewitt, Fellner, and Gould, listed at left, are my favorites). Good recordings on older instruments include Kenneth Gilbert on harpsichord and Ralph Kirkpatrick on clavichord, not so much Wanda Landowska on harpsichord (of historical interest, but not great listening). On the basis of Céline Frisch's Goldberg Variations recording, my current favorite, the possibility of her take on the WTC is most tantalizing. Until then, Egarr's version has my ear.

Harmonia Mundi HMU 907431.32

Watts and Bergen Philharmonic at GMU

Bergen Filharmoniske Orkester, photo courtesy of the artists

American principal conductor Andrew Litton led the Bergen Filharmoniske Orkester, one of the world’s oldest orchestras, in an appealing program at the George Mason University Center for the Arts, as part of the first U.S. tour in the Norwegian ensemble’s 242-year history. Held in a loosely termed “arts center,” rather than a true concert hall, the intimate space and dry acoustic of the venue were most attractive in many ways, though less so in others. The dry acoustic sharpened the array of colors and perfect balance presented by André Watts in Grieg’s Piano Concerto in A Minor. Watts’s clean passagework was all the more impressive in the dry acoustic, while the rubato in the second movement (Adagio) came off naturally – Litton only had to begin to slightly broaden a gesture for the orchestra to momentarily alter the pace. The third movement includes an instance when an orchestral tutti suddenly halts to allow for a dazzling burst from the piano rich enough in color to replace the orchestra. Conductor, soloist, orchestra, and audience alike fully enjoyed the plethora of attractive themes (many of them Norwegian folk tunes) from Sunday’s performance of the Grieg concerto despite a rather hollow tone from the Steinway D.

Other Reviews: Allan Kozinn, A Norwegian Orchestra and Its Aural Thumbprint (New York Times, November 8) Mark J. Estren, Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra (Washington Post, November 6)

Knut Vaage’s Chatter, originally commissioned by the Bergen Philharmonic as an encore piece, was programmed before the Grieg concerto. This brief, complex work depicts the busyness of modern life, with instruments chattering individually without listening or recognizing what the others are doing. These works were book-ended by Shostakovich’s Festive Overture and Symphony No. 5, both works that required a larger, wetter space to allow the full power of the orchestra to blend, and blemishes be better hidden. The exquisite wind solos and generous amount of bass drum were most enjoyable.

The Bergen Philharmonic's U.S. tour continues through November 19, with concerts in Connecticut, New York, Florida, and North Carolina.

A Few of Manze and Egarr's Favorites

Manze / Egarr: Schubert Sonatas (2007) Mozart Sonatas (2005) Corelli Sonatas (2003) Handel Sonatas (2001) Pandolfi Sonatas (1999)

It was a good week for historically informed performance: after a stunning concert of the Bachs by Café Zimmermann at the Library of Congress, it was out to the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center on Sunday night for a duo recital by Andrew Manze and Richard Egarr. In charming prefatory remarks, Manze labeled the selection of one Schubert and three Mozart sonatas as "some of our favorites." A look back over their shared history of recording explains the familiarity evident between Manze and Egarr throughout the concert, in the sense of elasticity of rhythm and the give and take of ensemble playing. Furthermore, unlike their Carnegie Hall appearance earlier in the week, panned by Steve Smith, this concert was heard on instruments appropriate to the historical period. As explained by the performers, Egarr sat at a Thomas and Barbara Wolf copy of a fortepiano by Johann Schantz, and Manze played on his historical instrument, a violin reconditioned to 18th-century standards.

The result was an extraordinary glimpse into the musical past, in the intimate setting of the sold-out Gildenhorn Recital Hall, with the soft spectrum of these two instruments suited so well to one another and to the smaller hall. The program began with the F major sonata, K. 376, where the second movement (Andante) stood out for its well-chosen tempo and graceful ornamentation, as did the third for its force and folksy, earthy color. The E-flat major sonata, K. 481, featured an Allegretto movement a little, happily, on the plucky, poky side, at the end of which Egarr toyed with listeners who were tempted to clap before he began the capping fourth movement. The final Mozart selection, the A major sonata, K. 526, again featured tempi that were to the gentle side, a giocoso but not overly fast first movement (Molto allegro) and a chipper but not breathless third movement (Presto). Again here it was the second movement that stood out, on the leisurely side of Andante, but exquisitely timed and shaped.

Other Reviews: Andrew Lindemann Malone, Andrew Manze and Richard Egarr (Washington Post, November 6) Steve Smith, Period Music, This Time on Modern Instruments (New York Times, November 3) Julie Amacher, New Classical Tracks: Kindred spirits (Minnesota Public Radio, October 24)

The major discovery was the Schubert D major sonata, D. 384, drawn from the duo's most recent CD of Schubert sonatas (see my review). Three unassuming movements each just over four minutes in length, the sonata begins with a plain and terse sonata form, only to be followed by a striking slow movement with a gorgeous B section in minor and a puckish Allegro vivace in 6/8. After that example, an encore was welcome in the last movement of the Schubert G minor sonata, D. 408, which featured some of the biggest, brashest playing of the evening. Egarr's playing seemed to outpace Manze, who was certainly in good form but with a few sour notes here and there. It may be that the changes in Manze's life recently -- he has retired from his associations with the Academy of Ancient Music and the English Concert to move to Stockholm and take up the position of chief conductor of the Helsingborg Symphony Orchestra -- signal an end to the centrality of playing the violin in his career. So much the worse for us.

Manze and Egarr have four more appearances on a brief North American tour this week, in Los Angeles, Colorado, and Edmonton.