Category Archives: baroque
A Vivaldi-heavy performance is only fitting to cap a very exciting concert-going year, that has brought me to Vivaldi’s homebase twice. In furore iustissimae irae is one of those badass motets that can only come from the Red Priest (lest we forget he was an ordained priest; I usually do, his music sounds so wordly most of the time) and it was this that convinced me to attend, even though they livestreamed it. Somehow I have not noticed anyone else bringing it to Wiggy in my time of patronising the venue. I hope more do in the future.
I’ve seen La Nuova Musica in action enough to know what to expect. I have to commend Lucy Crowe for the highest professionalism with which she adapted to the breakneck speeds that are so dear to Bates. Her tone is too sweet (not a criticism) to call what she used “machinegun coloratura” but it’s definitely one of the fastest and most accurate I’ve heard so far. Her top has enough piercing power to break through the volume levels Bates likes to employ.
Gent from Manchester who took 3 trains for this event: she’s more like a mezzo.
Because she sang Gelido in ogni vena, which I’ve only heard contraltos (and countertenors) sing so far? An interesting choice, I agree, proving she has a middle, but something that benefits from a conductor more focused on emotional detail than energy and forward momentum.
She sounded in top form from the getgo, though I still think that, overall, I prefer her in Mozart (I loved her Ismene in Mitridate! She sounded like she was having so much fun, even though the production is somewhat restrictive in allowing you to put your personal touch on the character; then again, I wasn’t so keen on her Susanna and my interest in her was sparked by her Rodelinda… so you see how it goes). I would say from a techincal point of view she absolutely rocked and this was what Bates wanted from her. I suppose had he wanted her to add personality as well, she would’ve.
For its part, La Nuova Musica is perhaps more suited to Handel, as – at least to me – the sound was too heavy for Vivaldi/Italian Baroque, and occasionally the top strings produced a smudgy sound. The harpsichord was, of course, loud. So heavy-ish, loud and furious, though not ponderous but also not souple and bright.
Lucy Crowe soprano
La Nuova Musica | David Bates director
Antonio Vivaldi (1678-1741)
Overture from Il Farnace RV711
Siam navi all’onde algenti from L’Olimpiade RV725
Gelido in ogni vena from Il Farnace RV711
Arcangelo Corelli (1653-1713)
Concerto grosso in G minor Op. 6 No. 8 ‘For a Christmas Night’
Nico Muhly (b.1981)
Land in an Isle (Part One: Translation of the Body) (London première)
Motet: In furore iustissimae irae RV626
George Frideric Handel (1685-1759)
Gloria HWV deest
Sonata a5 HWV288
Land in an Isle (Part Two: Land in an Isle) (London première)
George Frideric Handel
Il trionfo del Tempo e del Disinganno HWV46a
Tu del ciel ministro eletto
Un pensiero nemico di pace
Lascia la spina from Il trionfo…
The Il trionfo bits were also of much interest to me, as I have never seen it/heard any of them live yet. I admit that when Bates said they’d have another trionfo aria for the encore, this time from Piacere, my heart skipped a bit in hopes of Come nembo. After that coloratura fest, can you blame me? Failing that, at least Un pensiero was as lively as one can hope, though that one could hope for more lightness 😉
Not sure I’d heard any Muhly before. Perhaps it’s not surprising that I had no particular reaction to the piece. The biggest effect was showcasing Crowe’s diction in English vs Italian. It could have been the high speeds, but her Italian was mostly vowels.
I was first introduced to In furore… by Roschmann, of all people. Unless you’re familiar with this wonderful motet, you may not know that Roschamann used to sing this kind of stuff when she was very young (1994). It’s quite the rarity for me but you can feel her distinctive personality already, albeit in a much lighter presentation than we know and love.
Then I went on to listen to Piau’s definitive version and so on. It’s a piece that benefits from a more introverted approach rather than an operatic one, dealing as it is with one’s relationship with sin, divine forgiveness and human rejoicing.
The event was suprisingly well attended, perhaps it’s the time of year when people feel a particular pull towards live culture – and thus people were very happy with the performance. I was somewhat amused to have a May-December couple plop next to me. This is not an unusual occurence at Wiggy, where we have the following types of public: old money mature populace who goes to these things as a matter of fact, music students, other musicians, regular music loving people/fans of the singer/band/conductor and academics and their much younger partners (ex (one hopes)-students). The May part of the couple behaved exactly like the young woman from Carol.
Roberta Invernizzi, two lutes, one viola da gamba and beguiling canzoni (Wigmore Hall, 19 November 2018)
I love these one shot (no interval) lunchtime Wiggy concerts! It’s usually pensioners and music students – and people who eat music on rye for lunch 😉 I try to get the day off for them, because otherwise they are really inconvenient for anyone working shifts but sometimes needs must include good ole’ skiving 😉 Put yourself in my place: 17th century love songs vs. Monday1 at work. I don’t care how much you love your job, music should win or you’re reading the wrong blog.
Anyway, I was only 1 1/2hrs late, so I’m keeping my respectability, especially after looking like I saved the day from a short on staff afternoon! Baroque heroes, you’ve got nothing on me.
Roberta Invernizzi soprano
Rodney Prada viola da gamba
Craig Marchitelli lute
Franco Pavan lute
Giulio Caccini: Dolcissimo sospiro; Dalla porta d’oriente
Johannes Hieronymus Kapsberger: Passacaglia
Claudio Monteverdi: Ecco di dolci raggi; Disprezzata Regina from L’incoronazione di Poppea
Orazio Bassani: Toccata per B quadro
Girolamo Frescobaldi: Canzone a basso solo
Tarquinio Merula: Folle è ben che si crede
Luigi Rossi: La bella più bella
Johannes Hieronymus Kapsberger: Arpeggiata
Sigismondo D’India: Intenerite voi, lagrime mie; Cruda Amarilli
Claudio Monteverdi: Si dolce è’l tormento; Voglio di vita uscir
Giulio Caccini: Amarilli, mia bella from Le nuove musiche
It’s been a couple of weeks or so from Lemieux with nothing – nothing! The upside is you really appreciate the musicians’ efforts after a drought. As soon as Invernizzi spun out the very first trill I was all how I wish I could do that! And when the lutes kicked in I thought this is it, I was born to listen to this 😉 I also, quite unusually, had a seat at the front of the venue, which, with Invernizzi works well as you get all sorts of nice dynamic transitions. This is the kind of concert where there is so little time, you need to be on from the moment you step on stage.
I really enjoyed her in this rep – probably my favourite performance from her. She has the style down pat and she didn’t either force or hold back, she was completely at home. As usual I liked the jaunty songs best (Dalla porta d’oriente has the same tune as Vi ricorda o boschi ombrosi) but Disprezzata regina by a soprano wasn’t a bad idea at all. It was a lot less stark and brutal than the recent one from Salzburg (it seemed like 2 lutes made a lot more noise than Christie’s entire band) but her tone and her investment worked nicely indeed. Voglio di vita uscir, a favourite of Baroque recitalists, with that playful start that belies its glum title, was, unsurprisingly, giddier than usual.
All in all, this is exactly my idea of a Monday lunchtime concert – content and presentation. I don’t know that I have words for how emotionally close I feel to this stuff. Might as well sneak in another Venice picture, though not everything above comes from Venice.
- Mondays and Wednesdays are the busiest for us. ↩
What better way to start the week than a mini-performance of 17th century songs? Luckily, BBC3 agrees and you can too sample Invernizzi and friends’ delightful one hour show from earlier today.
A propos of nothing, except I wanted to re-listen to this somewhat curious scene. Observe how back then it was done of peep show-style and now it’s all fluid sexuality. Let’s do a then and now – sorry for the bad quality video (then and now):
PS: just in case you thought the “blubber of love” in the background was something sprung out of Lauwers’ mind (also sorry for the tenor not staying in tune):
This show could be summed up simply as:
But it actually was a very entertaining evening even beyond the Galoumisù daydreaming.
A funny thing happened right before the performance started. First, I firmly demanded my seat back from a gent, only to realise I was in the wrong row – because surely I wasn’t sitting in the second row, was I? Yes, I was. I don’t even know how long ago I bought this ticket, possibly last decade 😉 All I remembered was that it was on the left side of the stalls. Well, it turned out I was 2m away from the performers, and judging by Anik’s curtain call picture from TADW, just where Galoumisù would be positioned. I just now realise that was her position at curtain call but hey! wishful thinking can work in your favour (she didn’t wear the pumpkin dress but the steel-purplish one was
backless fine as well).
Lady in front row: this is row B! Everything is confusing in this hall!
Gent sitting next to me in row C: this building is designed to help people get lost. So, come here often?
dehggi: [haha] yes, all the time! What brought you here this evening?
Gent row C: actually, I’ve a soft spot for Galou.
Now THAT is the way to chat dehggi up 😀 After a bit of Galoumisù fan…personing, we realised we were from the same neck of Eastern Europe. What are the odds?!
Serse: Franco Fagioli (aka, the beans)
Arsamene: Vivica Genaux
Amastre: Delphine Galou (aka, Galoumisù)
Romilda: Inga Kalna
Atalanta: Francesca Aspromonte
Elviro: Biagio Pizzuti
Ariodate: Andreas Wolf (uncredited by the Barbican site (bad Barbican!) but there are like 3 Handel basses doing the rounds these days)
Conductor: Maxim Emelyanychev | Il pomo d’oro (aka, pomodoro = the tomato)
There was a high level of involvement from everyone, down to curtain call antics (Aspromonte singlehandedly1 clearing up some music stands for access to the front of the stage, Genaux trying to sneak her music book back and Galoumisù graciously handing it to her, Genaux mocking Aspromonte’s pulling up her dress so she could walk faster, Pizzuti giving his (real) bouquet to the string player he’d pestered as Elvira, the fake florist etc.).
I finally saw Fagioli act! Now Serse is a role where he can be himself 😉 The endless rows of ornamenti and consummate self absorption fit Serse to a t (or to an s). Even him walking off stage after every aria, regardless of drama around him fit, because it falls right into Handel’s intended mockery of everyone’s melodrama.
I love the structure of this opera even more than I love the arias per se. The Serse-trademark speech interrupted by singing interrupted by speech interrupted by more singing feels so fresh and modern (or Neapolitan, perhaps?). Go Papa Handel! I love how he lavishes great tunes for only a minute or so and isn’t afraid to go back to Spechgesang all I’m playin’ wid’ya! All of the characters are made fun or – and in turn make fun of others. I love how characters just pop up when it’s convenient for them to do so –
Romilda (supposedly alone): oh, Serse, that tyrant!
Serse (cheerful): anyone mention my name?
[much later on:]
Romilda (when she’s run out of sensible arguments against Serse’s pestering): ok, my lord, it will be as you wish!
Arsamene (supposedly not in the room): ok, my lord, it will be as you wish! So much for your ardently professed faithfulness!
Before we go forward, let’s talk a bit about Fagioli, the star of the night. Now that I sat so close and after we have discussed him at length, I can see the vibrato and I can feel the tension – indeed it’s so great, half the time I’m afraid he’ll blow a gasket. Singing doesn’t have to look like a Strong Man competition. But it can and in his case it sure does. I’m also amused about his stance, which is always on the verge of Olé!
His acting was much more involved than usual and with flashes of comedic brilliance, especially when dismissing others (which Serse does a lot) or “wooing” Romilda (who knew he had it in him?!) but the ornamenti felt a bit noodly and, as much as he can do it, I’ve heard more sparkling Crude furies. Perhaps unfair of me to say that, as it comes so late in the game, but maybe if he didn’t pack so much tension from the start… Ombra mai fu felt like his best moment of the night, vocally. Or it’s just me always connecting to his softer singing
The public loved him, of course, but I’ve seen him so many times now that, as earwormopera once said about JDD,
Is there such a thing as awesome fatigue? I’ve heard DiDonato live quite a few times now, and I think I may be chasing the dragon, in a sense that she’s as good as she always is, but I’m so used to it that it doesn’t stun me as much as it did the first time.
So I have a feeling this would be a good point to call it a day as far as following Franco. Blaze of glory and all that.
What with all the excitement about other characters, Kalna’s Romilda got less applause than she should have. She did some fine juxtapositions of quiet and loud singing that showed great control and her voice is as flexible as ever. Romilda is one of those costante amante that have endless woe is me, I’m so oppressed but I will stay true to my principles arias and get energetic only once in the last act (right about the time she gets annoyed at Arsamene for not trusting her after all this effort, bless her heart), which was the one time she also got deserved applause. The woman is very versatile and underrated.
Genaux, Galoumisù and Aspromonte were kickin’ it in heels. When you sit so close to the stage you have ample opportunity to ponder on singers’ walking gear, which is level with your nose (or, if you’re particularly short, your hairline). I don’t think you’ll be surprised if I told you Galoumisù wins the stiletto competition. How she skips around in them I don’t know, but they are spiky, high and stylish as all getout. Let me take a(nother) minute to
Ok, back to women’s oppressive footwear. Genaux’s Arsamene was going for that Goth look where men wear leather, heels and eyeliner – or she was just taking the men right out of Arsamene. The shoes weren’t bad, consisting of a patch of black leather (also worn at TADW), but Galoumisù’s silver bead pair to accessorise the purplish dress was in a different class altogether. Aspromonte wore a pair of practical white pumps, which was why she could “roll up her sleeves” and organise the music stands 😉 We don’t know what Kalna wore under the turquoise dress.
Genaux is Genaux and although I doubt I’ll ever be a fan, Arsamene sits well for her, plus she can act and seems to have a sense of humour that she can adapt to the chumminess that usually runs through Baroque specialist circles.
As the night went on, I came to a conclusion on the issue I have with Aspromonte, who has so far been a very reliable performer if uneven at hitting that emotional spot with me (best fit: the trouser role of Alceste in Arianna in Creta). As far as I’m concerned, Atalanta is one of those roles owned by Piau. Aspromonte’s voice is less light, so the impishness does not come out of her vocal delivery alone. Atalanta is a very young and cunning girl, who has the guts to compete with her older sister for love and the selfishness to use any means necessary to get the man when he’s not responding to her wiles. Amusingly, her plans get thwarted by adults who aren’t as easy to manipulate as she thinks they are. Aspromonte is good and very convincing dramatically, especially in that girlish pink dress.
Pizzuti as Elviro was a riot at Elvira, as he needed to be. Elvira the florist’s entrance was hilariously loud and garish, smack dab into Amastre’s heartfelt moaning about being betrayed by her adored Serse. That’s what I’m talking about! While we’re at it, you gotta love the piss taken out of opera disguises, what with Elviro’s hastily applied head scarf and super obviously fake woman’s voice or Amastre’s equally fail “en travesti”, which consisted of a long-ish and clashingly unstylish coat on top of her very “royal” dress. We could totally believe she was a warrior forged in the heat of battle! Haha.
Then we have Wolf’s Ariodate, opera’s most amiable army commander. He’s basically there to say yes, Your Highness! and confuse matters at THE crucial moment of the opera. Plus he’s been in charge of the Most Badass Bridge of the Ancient World, to link Asia with Europe and crown Serse’s ambitions at conquering the world. Both Elviro and Amastre take pot shots at the bridge’s reliability. Is there nothing sacred in this libretto, you will ask? Nothing, gentle reader, nothing.
Except Amastre’s gorgeousness. Are you ready for more eyelash batting? OMG. So you know how she usually doesn’t get applause because contralto or something – possibly the narrow beam effect2. But this time I was determined to rectify this, so as soon as Amastre’s vengeange aria finished and she started to walk away I wrestled the clapping right out of the audience (I’ll be sending in my application to the Strong Person contest, too). So she actually turned around and gave us a little curtsy and me (I hope it was me) her cheeky smile. Dehggi = in love!
gentle readers: wait a minute, dehggi, you’ve been batting the eyelashes at Galou’s altar for how long now?
dehggi: since March 2015. Your point? Love needs to be tended to on a daily basis.
fellow Galou fan: she has such an exquisite voice.
dehggi: where do you think Galoumisù comes from? And I love her manner of singing, though I still don’t quite know how to characterise it. There’s something she does with sound that’s very cool; it’s not simply beautiful singing, it’s sculpted sound (from my Giulio Cesare in Vienna review: […] timing and interactions with the orchestra – the way she got in and out of the phrase and how that blended with the sound around her).
fellow Galou fan: in my opinion she’s very beautiful.
But I was actually talking about Andreas Wolf as Ariodate, right? You don’t remember that? Well, I was. I like his voice a lot, one of those flexible basses that can cope with Baroque coloratura without forcing the gates at the Strong Man contest (yes, I know, this post is all about English breakfast, Italofrench desert and the Strong Man contest. I’m trying to tell it like it is).
I know a lot of people really dig on Emelyanychev’s antics but to me he’s equally as ready to join the Strong Man contest as Mr Argentinian Bean. He looks like he’s wrestling the sound out of his very talented string players, to the point it made me wonder if, left to their own devices, they’d suddenly feel lost at sea and end up sounding like Disarmonia. That being said, 4 hours pass like nothing under his care and his singers are greatly taken care of, especially our evening’s beans on toast, whom he was setting up to soar. What can I tell you about the Attack of the Baroque Tomatoes? That string sound is sweet and they can roque without sounding like they’re trying hard to be cool. But to be honest, sitting on a side I don’t think I got the best of their abilities, except for the strings on the left that I keep mentioning and which healed the still lacerating wounds caused by… that which shall only be named once in this paragraph.
Moral of the story: a) the very front is for getting the best out of the singers, stay further back for the band, b) talk to your neighbours, they might be your real life neighbours, c) someone two people over to my right was – very obviously – recording the show so it could surface somewhere. I wanted to talk to her about it but my neighbour distracted me. Oh, well, sometimes pleasant memories are better than overly scrutinised reality 😉
But since I failed to bring the camera along when sitting smack dab in front of the stage, let me leave you with a shot of the general area of where I think Franco is (supposedly) twirling in the above poster, as seen from Santa Maria della Salute:
You can’t love Baroque opera and not be particularly soft on rough sea arias:
Do I need to remind you that, earlier this year, Cirillo was the unabashedly hedonistic Alcina in Vivaldi’s Orlando, at the wonderful Teatro Malibran in Venezia (where else?!)? I don’t think so. But you can still catch it on Culturebox, if you haven’t already done so.
PS: Yes, y’all, a very post-lazy month is nearing its end (don’t forget to change your clocks tonight, lest you show up one hour early to wherever you’re going tomorrow 😉 ), and that means I’m cramming it like a student on exam week. But let me take this opportunity to thank all who have nevertheless read the blog, even though there were only two new posts.
After a 3 week honeymoon with like-minded thoughts and the work itself, the time has come to read other opinions on Poppea (yes, I know, the world has moved on by I have not. It’s Tito month and I’m still stuck in Rome one generation before that story).
For kicks I also listened to Karajan’s trainwreck in the meanwhile and came out with further thoughts: the chap singing Seneca survived best, mostly because his voice was the most suited to the role and because he either made the most effort to sound Monteverdian or he actually had an idea about what that enticed. A contralto Arnalta is usually not a good idea; neither is a tenor Valletto (same thing with the Enescu Festival Poppea; it’s a Cherubino character, leave it to women; never heard a CT in it but worse comes to worst I’d rather hear one than a tenor).
But back to 2018:
Jan Lauwers’s first opera production may be accounted a significant success: alive to theatre, its possibilities and impossibilities, its illusions and delusions. (from A Highly Successful Production of L’incoronazione di Poppea in Salzburg)
If a spinning marathon = alive to theatre then yes.
I heard a good few objections – nothing wrong with that in itself, of course – which, sadly and revealingly, seemed to boil down to that perennial bugbear of ‘too much going on’. By definition, ‘too much’ of something will be a bad thing – although sometimes, perhaps, bad things are required. (from same as above)
When it comes to entertainment too much of boring and illogical isn’t something I want. Bad things can be interesting, not the case here.
Few of the characters in L’incoronazione di Poppea, even Seneca, a somewhat compromised and therefore all the more credible exception, evince scruples in that or any other respect. Sometimes we, sometimes they too, need to ask why, or at least seem to need to do so. It does not, then, seem entirely unreasonable, nor out of keeping with the spirit of this extraordinary work, to attempt something similar. (from same as above)
I’m in agreement with this (though it’s wooly written, so I cleared it up for the reader). Yet I’m not interested in any production telling me why. That’s for each of us to draw from our own experiences with “horrible people”. I’m interested in a production not making things busy for the hell of it. The author seems to imply that simply busy = making us think. On the contrary.
It is, at any rate, likely to prove more enlightening than simply complaining that ‘too much is going on’. ‘Have you ever seen a Frank Castorf production?’ I was tempted to ask. (from same as above)
What’s that got to do with anything? I have seen this production and it messed with my head for no discernable reason. (Visual) art should speak for itself, not need booklets explaining it1. (Incidentally that Castorf production looks a lot more coherent but I didn’t see it so I won’t be commenting)
The next paragraph is bad writing on the subject of whether or not there is any parallel between Busenello’s libretto and Shakespeare’s Macbeth, psychology (or lack thereof) and whether whatever Accademia deli Incogniti stood for had any bearing on the apparently amoral tone of the libretto. None of it has anything to do with this production so I’ll skip it.
Like staging itself, sometimes they [the dancers] mirror the action, but more often they offer related, alternative paths: a ‘why’, a ‘what if…’, (from same as above)
They do, I guess, but always as a not particularly original or coherent afterthought. First draft?
Throughout history, what has been more pornographic, in any number of senses, than the desire not only to watch but also to write such ‘stories’? Is that not part of what Poppea is? All the while, even whilst we are caught up in its detail, in enjoyment thereof, we, like the selected dancer-in-rotation as focal wheel of fate (Fortuna), know how things will turn out – even if we have forgotten. (from same as above)
Yes to the first part – and I certainly would’ve traded the incessant spinning for more of the reality TV backstage stuff being projected – but can we for once live in the now instead of always thinking about how things turn out? Isn’t that why we indulge in entertainment?
- I’m aware that’s usually what is going on in contemporary art museumes these days but I don’t consider it a good thing. ↩
How cool – the ETO blog isn’t half bad. Check out their entry about ground bass in Monteverdi, before and thereafter. For those (like me) non-musically trained I’m not going to explain the term because the blog does it really well and gives cool examples.
Interesting things ETO does this Autumn around the UK:
Dido and Aeneas + more (Purcell, Carissimi and Gesualdo)
This is a pretty good account of what went down in Zurich (re: Poppea). (From my seat in my Mum’s kitchen) I’m not very convinced by those projections either but I do like the rounded stage idea, with the displaced balcony box spectators at the back.
Like I said in the Carmen post, I’m not sure I care so much about being physically super immersed in the action as long as the acting is convincing and the production clear and coherent. I can draw my own Poppea/Carmen/Tito etc. parallels, thank you. But I doubt I could’ve forked out the money for those seats, anyway (though maybe you got discounts for having the public watch you as part of the action… but it looks like they’re not always there? whatever it was).
In any case, David Hansen vs. Kate Linsdey ultimately seals it for me.
ps: pregnant Poppea = yes.
(What a serious distractions visuals can be…)
Christie is going real old school – not (never, with this rep) a criticism, just an observation. For the past week I’ve been listening to Jacobs (Paris, 2004) and Egarr (Enescu Festival, 2015). Whilst each of the three does interesting things – and we can thank Monteverdi for leaving so much up to interpretation! – Christie is, strangely, in this context, the most dramatic. I’m talking especially about Addio, Roma – really good tension on the monochord theorbo (I think) that sets Ottavia’s heartbroken goodbye – and Nerone’s meltdown – mayhem! 😀
And, strangely again, whilst the background is so old school, we have non-Baroque specialists, who – especially Yoncheva – bring a very different feel to it. I think we’re past puritanical obsessions and can appreciate a bit of a mix. It’s heartwarming to see non-specialists insist on having roles like these in their repertoire. It surely brings them to the attention of the general public.
Strictly technically speaking, Alder is at this point my favourite Poppea, and I would love to see her in a staged production (sooner rather than later), paired up with a mezzo who won’t be drowned – or with a conductor who can direct her well.
However, Yoncheva has a very nice range for this role, with some warm and almost dark plunges into the lows, whilst Alder stays within a brighter timbre. When she’s not rushed, Yoncheva can produce pleasant trills. And it’s really lovely hearing her sing along Lindsey.
The more I listen, the more I’m impressed with Lindsey’s performance as Nerone. That meltdown is something else! But even better (and stylish) are her trills, which I had not rated particularly high in the past (re: Sesto in Paris against Gauvin’s Vitellia). We’ve also got range, from a handsomely vigorous dark mezzo to those goofy “wicked Nerone” higher pitched incursions. I think it’s also a rep in which she doesn’t have to force at all (tempo included), so more colours and possibilities open. I would be very happy if she explores more of the same.
Comparing the three, I would say Jacobs makes it the most hip-sounding (bot not necessary HIP), Egarr’s is cembalo-driven and Christie brings out some startling details. It’s how I remember his Cesare – he plays with this music; it’s not about playing it correctly – because it’s not hard to do so – but it’s about having fun with it. The above mentioned theorbo and the cornetti (where others didn’t seem to have used them), as well as the ensemble at the end of Act III really stand out.
It’s interesting that he mentions Harnoncourt starting off HIP then moving on, because I would say this is more or less what he’s doing here, collarborating with non-specialist singers. You get to a level like Salzburg, so what are you going to do? Salzburg wants “cool” but also it wants its big stars who will draw the posh crowds. But that’s not a bad thing, like I said. The more posh audiences get used to small kvlt bands playing 17th century operas and big stars joining enhusiastically, the better. We shouldn’t keep Monteverdi to ourselves, the whole world deserves to know and learn to appreaciate these wonderful operas.
Poppea is such a great achievement because it’s basically a lossely sung play. In that way it’s very modern, but those loosely sung parts are more alluring than similar later efforts. I always marvel how he causes language to purr without modifying its cadence at all. It makes me think we should all sing to each other instead of simpy talking and find our own languages’ inner music.
Also mad props to Busenello for such a tight libretto (another reason why you should employ an actual poet instead of writing it yourself). Every character has a distinctive voice and then there are the simply rendered but keenly observed interactions between people. This is the kind of music where a slightly modified inflection makes all the difference. After listening to Monteverdi I invariably say to myself “Were I a singer, I would want to sing this all the time.” And if I were musically inclined, I have no doubt this it the kind of thing that would’ve made me decide on pursuing even an “amateur career” in singing.
Now that I re-listened, I’m still firm in my opinion that Vistoli has a way to go before he gets on a level with Iestyn Davies as far as Ottone is concerned. Having spent a few days revisiting Davies’ Ottone, I can say without issues that he is my favourite countertenor Ottone. I used to like his Glyndebourne E pur io torno qui a lot, but he actually improved for the Enescu Festival. That aria and his performance in general in that concert is very possibly my favourite from a countertenor ever, I am surprised to say. It’s just flawless, stylish and perfectly pitched emotionally. I’ve seen him many times but that is it for me.
I should put it on YT, I don’t think it’s up for our enjoyment – it is! It occurs to me that I have actually seen him sing Ottone back in 2014, but I guess I didn’t know any better… I wish I could see him now.
However, after this perhaps unflattering detour and unusual Davies worship, Vistoli’s tone is easily recognisable and very likable. He’s quite mezzo-ish, bypassing the all too common bleat of many countertenors. I can see why Christie picked him and it could be interesting to see how he develops.
When speaking about “the darkness of Baroque”, Lauwers seemed quite interested in the character of Seneca as the moral compass of the opera. He said he would like an older singer, with possibly a ruined voice for this role (Visse was waving from the side, trying to get his attention 😉 ) but I suppose Christie called up a very young bass-baritone who (intelligence says) appeared worried how he’d come off. Well, given the low set technical bar, he needn’t have worried. Kidding, he was fine. Who cares about Seneca, anyway, beside as a butt of jokes? But I guess Lauwers doesn’t quite get what a “gone” voice sounds like; it’s often the darkness that’s gone, and without darkness you’re not going to have Seneca centre the opera. It’s all good, because this production is hardly centred.