Conductor, Simone Young; Director, Robert Carsen; Set Designer, Paul Steinberg; Costume Designer, Brigitte Reiffenstuel; Lighting Designers, Robert Carsen & Peter Van Praet; Revival Stage Director, Paula Suozzi. Cast – Marschallin, Lise Davidsen; Sophie, Erin Morley; Octavian, Samantha Hankey ; Annina, Katharine Goeldner; Italian Singer, René Barbera ; Valzacchi, Thomas Ebenstein; Faninal, Brian Mulligan; Baron Ochs, Günther Groissböck

I have been to many excellent performances of this work. The one I remember with the fondest memories is the 1974 ROHCG production with Helga Dernesch as the Marschallin, and Yvonne Minton as Octavian, and the excellent Derek Hammond-Stroud fussing around as Faninal. This was conducted by Carlos Kleiber and I have a treasured memory, observed and heard from the Upper Slips, of Kleiber sculpting with his hands and arms the rising passion of the strings in the final big trio and producing one of the most gorgeous moments I’ve ever had in the opera house. But there was also the frequently revived ENO production of the mid/late 70’s – Anne Evans as the Marschallin, Josephine Barstow as Octavian and Valerie Masterson as Sophie, conducted by Charles Mackerras, which I saw many, many times (and I recently found, amazingly, a Feb 1975 clip on YouTube of the Presentation of the Rose from that production -https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6e2ajq_dYv8. More recently I saw this very same Carsen production at ROHCG in 2016, with Octavian sung by Alice Coote, and the Marschallin sung during her final year of performing the role on stage by Renée Fleming, This was excellently conducted by Andris Nelsons

There were several truly excellent aspects of this production, and little that was mis-thought (and nothing that was mediocre)

I thought the conducting of Simone Young was superb. It sounded as though she loves this work and knows it inside out. Her tempi were certainly not fast – Andris Nelsons were almost frenzied by comparison – but the result was not sluggishness but rather a loving approach to the work, allowing everything to have its weight and to flourish, with a lovely Viennese lilt where needed. A wonderful example was the orchestral surge that accompanies the Marschallin’s entrance in Act 3, which I have rarely heard so grand and heart stopping.  The Met orchestra played wonderfully and idiomatically, with a glorious string sound, confident whooping horns, and sympathetic woodwind

Rosenkavalier is one of those works that do not respond well to over-complicated directorial approaches. Carsen’s production updates it to the eve of WW1, which works well, and picks up on a reference in the libretto to make Faninal an arms dealer and manufacturer of howitzers. I thought the combination of Carsen’s directing, and the excellent ensemble acting, made the earlier part of Act 3 much more interesting than I have found it sometimes – it never seemed to meander or become tedious, and was at points genuinely funny. Having Sophie and Octavian on stage at the end spotlit on stage while the walls draw back and a huge howitzer appears is fair enough, but the rows of soldiers who stood up, pointed their guns at the audience and then collapsed provided a rather laboured and trivialised ending. Perhaps too (though maybe because of where the camera was pointing in a very crowded scene), it was unclear what the reasons were for Valsacchi and Annina defecting to Octavian. The antics of Ochs as ever seemed a bit over-the-top in the first act – Hofmannsthal’s fault , not Groissböck – and you wonder why the Marschallin would ever allow him to behave like that in front of her, but then maybe she is encouraging Ochs, knowing it is Octavian at the receiving end of Ochs’ endearments

In many ways the star performers were Ochs and Octavian.  Günther Groissböck portrayed Ochs as more human than he can sometimes be and less of a caricature – he acted extraordinarily well, often very amusingly, and particularly in Act 3. His was perhaps a lighter voice than some in the role but still he managed his growled low notes very well. Samantha Hankey did not to my ears have as luscious a voice as some who have sung this, but she was such an excellent actor, such a sensitive singer that this didn’t seem important. She was better at suggesting the masculinity and the teenage tantrums of Octavian than most I have seen

It seemed odd in a close up film (it wouldn’t have mattered in the theatre) that Sophie almost seemed in appearance older than the Marschallin. Lise Davidsen is an artist whose career I watch with great enthusiasm and interest. It has been wonderful to hear her singing two Wagner roles live (Sieglinde and Elizabeth) in the last year and I am looking forward to her singing in Don Carlos in June at ROHCG. I felt her Marschallin was still at an early stage in her portrayal of the role – the Act 3 part of the Marschallin’s role was very movingly done, and Davidsen is very good at being serious, with a glorious start to the Trio. The Act 1 Marschallin portrayal made maybe less of some of the lines than others have, and you do have to think – what a weight of tradition for a young singer to have to cope with in this role and in this house (emphasised by the Met broadcast, that did a historical retrospective of Marchallins at the Met, including Lottie Lehmann, Schwarzkopf, Kiri Te Kanawa etc). Maybe Davidsen’s Marschallin wasn’t enjoying herself with Octavian as much as she might………Erin Morley as Sophie was very good and very well-acted

I have to say – after almost 7 years absence – it was wonderful to sit through the entirety of this work again. The cinema was sold out and very appreciative

Director, Simon Stone; Set Designer, Chloe Lamford; Costume Designer, Mel Page; Lighting Designer, James Farncombe; Choreographer, Arco Renz. Conductor, Susanna Malkki. Cast – The Waitress (Tereza), Jenny Carlstedt; The Mother-In-Law (Patricia), Sandrine Piau; The Father-In-Law (Henrik), Christopher Purves; The Bride (Stela), Lilian Farahani; The Bridegroom (Tuomas), Markus Nykanen; The Priest, Timo Riihonen; The Teacher (Cecilia), Lucy Shelton

There’s been a lot of hullabaloo about this work – Simon Rattle’s comment that it’s a 21st century Wozzeck, for instance. Apart from the one piece mentioned below, I haven’t, I’m afraid to say, heard a note of Kaija Saariaho’s music before. I prepared myself for this dress rehearsal of the first London performance of ‘Innocence’ by looking at the video of the first performance in Aix on YouTube from 2021 with the LSO.

 I didn’t have time to watch the whole performance on video so I dipped in and out. I wasn’t overly impressed – dense slow-moving music, lots of sprechstimme – it sounded like it was going to be a long hour and three quarters in the theatre. I wondered whether it was nearer to a play with music than an opera. It seemed very different from the only other piece of Saariaho I’ve heard – the prelude to L’Amour de loin, influenced (according to the young Italian composer giving a talk I went to recently) by Wagner and an interest in spiritual matters. ‘Innocence’ seems very different  – though maybe there is some thinking in this work about how easy it is to be complicit with evil – Innocence therefore being an ironic title……..

Actually watching and listening to the work in the theatre was rather a different experience. The story concerns a school shooting at an international school in which 10 students die. Because the shooter is under the age of criminal responsibility he has a fairly lenient sentence and, 10 years on, is about to leave prison. His brother and parents have essentially in different ways blocked the shooter out of their lives, and Tuomas, his brother, meanwhile has found in Romania a girl (Stela) he wants to marry. However he tells her nothing about his family’s background. The opera begins at his wedding reception. At the last moment because of illness a late replacement is made of a waitress for the wedding, who is the mother of one of the 10 dead students. The opera is essentially about the relationships between the waitress, the bride, the brother and his family and reactions to the shooting. Interspersed with the depicting of these relationships are comments and tales from the students about the shooting and its aftermath, some of whom are clearly dead victims and possibly others who are survivors (it wasn’t always clear). By the end the bride has found out about her husband’s family, the waitress has been unable to find any sort of reconciliation or conclusion from her encounters with the shooter’s family, and the brother reveals to his parents that he was complicit in his brother, the shooter’s, killings.

The set is as in the video and consists of a two- layered four-quartered set, thus depicting up to 8 different scenes as it revolved. This is used very effectively to shift the scene from e.g. wedding reception to kitchen to flashbacks of the shooting at the school.

So how does this work as an opera? Several points:

– I was totally gripped by the piece for its duration in the theatre. So it is certainly an extraordinarily absorbing work, whatever its label.

– The different characters are well drawn and differentiated

– it has few of the lyrical moments one might expect from an opera and it is true that the sound world is relatively constricted  – dark strings, brass, drums and keyboards. It also proceeds at what sounds like the same rather funereal basic tempo throughout. And the students by and large and a teacher (dead?) use sprech stimme

– But it does have some lyrical moments – Stela’s singing of her betrayal by her new husband, and Tuomas’ singing of his complicity in his brother’s shooting. In many ways, the lyrical element is carried by the extensive and often moving choral writing, which was outstandingly performed by the ROHCG chorus – sometimes commenting on the action, sometimes part of it. The other absorbingly and definitely operatic element was the role of the waitress’ dead daughter, who was a music student, and who sings, miked, in what I assume is a Finnish folk idiom – I guess a kind of yodelling, herding song in essence,  and apparently specific to Saariaho’s home region – with a resonant ghostly echo. It’s in fact this daughter who provides the ending for the opera telling her mother not to remember so much so often – the dead, like the living, need space.

When I think of the complex levels of this piece, the mixing of living and dead, the mundane and mysterious, and the very specific atmosphere the music provides it is very difficult to see how this would work simply offered as a spoken word play. The music is integral to the impact of the piece. Some have described the work as ‘cold’ and I think there is some truth in that, and that the music could have offered more healing, more emotional release – but, again, this piece is resolutely bleak by intention and determined to avoid sentimentality at all costs

One oddity is the use of a number of different languages in the libretto. In one way this makes sense given that the focus is on what happened at an international school. I am not sure it serves any other dramatic purpose, though.

One thing that was unclear to me was whether the shooter brother actually appeared ‘live’ after the completion of his prison term – I think not, but wasn’t sure.

All the singers were uniformly excellent, Sandrine Piau, a Baroque specialist, I think, was the excellent Mother of the shooter and Christopher Purves his father. The Waitress (Tereza), Jenny Carlstedt, the Bride (Stela), Lilian Farahani; the Bridegroom (Tuomas), Markus Nykanen were all first rate.  Susanna Malkki seemed to have a total grip of the orchestra, conducting the clearest 4/4  I think I have ever seen from a conductor.

I am so pleased I went to this

Conducted by Antonio Pappano; Turandot, Catherine Foster;  Calaf, Russell Thomas; Liù, Ermonela Jaho; Timur, Vitalij Kowaljow; Ping, Hansung Yoo; Pang, Aled Hall; Pong, Michael Gibson; Emperor Altoum, Alexander Kravets; Mandarin, Blaise Malaba. Director, Andrei Serban; Set Designer, Sally Jacobs; Lighting, F. Mitchell Dana; Revival Director, Jack Furness

Despite my concerns about this work, voiced here in this blog before, I found myself drawn to going to see this live performance because of several factors:

• The amazing Ermonela Jaho, singing Liu
• The first chance to hear Catherine Foster in a major role in the UK, after years of performing in Europe, and particularly Bayreuth
• The accolades given to Pappano’s reading of the score, his first in a live performance
• The interesting contrasts/connections between this work and The Dead City (see previous review), both products of the 1920’s

The production is one of the oldest in the ROHCG range of current productions, dating back to 1984. I last saw in 2017 with Christine Goerke as Turandot

After the rather cross account I gave of the Met Turandot live screening slightly less than a year ago, I was wondering what I would make of the 40 year old Serban production. I have to say that by comparison with the monstrous Zeffirelli production the ROHCG seemed relatively modest and appropriate, and also, to the extent possible in this work, not racist.

The basic staging in the first two acts is a two tiered gallery in which a shadowy chorus sits, with wooden platforms and walkways at centre stage. Red ribbons are strewn across the stage at the beginning and end of the work. The gallery splits up in the third act to something like a garden with appropriate Chinese style pavilions and lattice walls. There is a group of masked dancers who comment on the action. The Chinese aspects of the spectacle seem considered and respectfully handled. The Emperor comes down from the flies in a golden throne, Liu is taken off in a giant dragon hearse after dying in Act 3 and there are splendid heads of the various executed princes, which Ping, Pong and Pang work on. The executioner has a lumbering cart. None of these effects seem over the top or condescending

Musically this was a very fine evening indeed. Pappano brought out clearly many different strands of the music I’d never heard before, with the Stravinsky of Petrushka a particular influence. Some of the music – of the Act 2 Riddles, of some of Ping, Pang and Pong exchanges – sounds almost like Berg. There were many phrases delivered with bite, panache and pointing that made you feel you were hearing  the music with the cotton wool of tradition somehow removed

It was very exciting to hear Catherine Foster for the first time – I had hoped to hear her in Elektra in 2020, but that got scuppered by Covid. The first performance of this production in 1984 featured Gwyneth Jones as Turandot. 40 years later Catherine Foster rather reminded me of her –  a similarly big powerful, gorgeously-sounding voice, like Jones with a bit of a vibrato, but with the ability to sing softly with great beauty. Like Jones, her acting was rather of the semaphore variety. I would love to hear her as Brunnhilde or Isolde – it is extraordinary that she has been singing these heavy Wagner roles at Bayreuth since 2010 yet this run of Turandot is the first time she has been heard doing anything with one of the big UK opera companies since 2001. It was very pleasing to hear her for the first time. Pappano seemed similarly pleased when the two met on stage in curtain calls……….I hope that’s a good sign for the future. But it beggars belief why ENO, for instance, with their ill-fated Tristan in 2016, didn’t seek to employ Foster rather than the not wholly adequate American soprano they used instead (though admittedly having to learn the role again in English might have been something Foster was not prepared to do.)

Ermonela Jaho – who was also Liu in the Met screening – gave an outstanding performance. She is a powerful presence on stage, knowing that less is more. Her ability to use her voice with colour and imagination is extraordinary. In the first act she fined her powerful voice down to a floated whisper as she sung of her suppressed love for Liu. Rightly she, along with Pappano, got the biggest ovations.of the evening.

Russell Thomas  was also very good. I heard him as a very competent Otello a few years ago and the qualities I remembered were on display here – a credible and commanding presence, powerful voice with top notes pinged out with ease and without any audience anxiety, but perhaps not so much musical subtlety….which anyway is hardly baked into the role of Calaf, and wasn’ta major factor.

A very enjoyable evening……

Michael Volle, Falstaff; Ailyn Pérez, Alice Ford; Jennifer Johnson Cano, Meg Page; Marie-Nicole Lemieux, Mistress Quickly; Hera Hyesang Park. Bogdan Volkov. Nannetta and Fenton; Christopher Maltmann, Ford. Daniele Rustioni, conductor; Robert Carsen, director; Paul Steinberg, designer; Brigitte Reiffenstuel, costumes; Robert Carsen and Peter Van Praet, lighting

I’ve seen a number of productions of Falstaff over the years. I remember seeing performances by Tito Gobbi in the 70s with Colin Davis conducting and Norman Bailey as Ford, as well as Georg Solti and Geraint Evans.  I also remember a very effective performance a few years ago by a small NW Wales company in Buxton with a reduced orchestra but with the sense of fun in the work really coming across. I have always admired the work for its utter economy and craftsmanship as well as the beauty of the many melodies that fly out of the orchestra and are quickly absorbed into the hectic action or sudden moments of stillness.

The Carsen production at the Met is shared with ROHCG amongst others (like the Carsen Rosenkavalier also on at the Met at present and to be screened in two weeks time). It sets the opera in the 1950s, though oddly Falstaff’s dress coat and hat (and the men’s chorus at the end) looks more Regency than anything else.  Alice Ford has a very nice kitchen with all mod cons in the second act while Falstaff meets Ford/Fontana in a rather fusty gentleman’s club. I suppose the 50s settings did no harm but equally they didn’t particularly illuminate. The third act  scene 1, in the innkeepers barn with high windowed walls from which the conspirators could hear various encounters with Falstaff (and with a live horse) was very effective. The last, Windsor Forest, scene seemed a little misconceived – the high walls folded back and we saw a dark night sky with stars- but not much else. This made the spirits and general gathering of tormentors a bit too obvious and explicable. However the large dining table wheeled on at the end was a nice touch. What was good about the production, generated I assume by the combination of a talented cast and a good revival director, was a substantial sense of a team working together and really enjoying themselves in the process. Everyone was really responding closely and quickly to what others were singing and doing.

Musically the performance was very good indeed. A lot of this had to do with the conducting of Daniele Rustioni, which was tight and exciting. He had the ability to make sure that all the ensemble work, which really has to fizz in a totally accurate way, was deftly handled. At the same time, he drew out some beautiful phrases and inner voices from the orchestra that I don’t recall hearing before. The last chorus was done superbly – rhythmically tight, and all the strands of music clear, a real celebration by the old man of all he had achieved in his musical lifetime amidst much sadness and pain. Having also very much enjoyed Rustioni’s conducting of the Trojans in Munich, it makes me worry a bit as to whether ROHCG made the right choice in rejecting him as Pappano’s successor.

The new names to me in the cat were Hera Hyesang Park as Nanetta and Marie-Nicole Lemieux as Mistress Quickly. The latter had a gorgeous deep contralto voice, and was very funny – she was able to make fun of herself in her movements and really offered in singing and presence a bubbly, very loveable presence – she was clearly enjoying herself hugely. Nanetta had a beautiful light soprano voice – maybe slightly too considered in her acting, but, still, very good indeed . I was very impressed too by Christopher Maltman as a very slimey Ford, and Ailyn Pérez as his, beautifully acting and singing, wife – both seemed naturals in their roles. In fact there really wasn’t a weak link. And Michael Volle was extraordinarily good – not overdoing Falsttaff’s grossness, totally absorbed in the character, good-looking and young enough to make it appear not totally unreasonable that he had a (very, very outside) chance with Alice and Meg, and for the screening a fascinatingly detailed mix of facial expressions. His singing was both strong and sensitive where needed. There can’t be many singers who can sing both Wotan and Falstaff with equal distinction (though I note Hans Hotter did)

So all in all, the Met at its best, IMHO.

Kirill Karabits, Conductor; Annilese Miskimmon, Director; Miriam Buether, Set Designer; Jess Farncombe, Lighting Designer; Rolf Romei, Paul; Allison Oakes, Marietta and Voice of Marie; Lauren Bridle, Marie; Audun Iversen, Frank/Fritz; Hubert Francis, Graf Albert; Sarah Connolly. Brigitta; Rhian Lois, Juliette; Clare-Presland, Lucienne; William Morgan, Victorin; Innocent Masuku, Gastone

Die Tote Stadt is a work I have been aware of for a long time, since poring through the pages of Opera magazine in the late 70’s / early 80’s as this opera began its re-appearance in the German opera house repertory. I was very excited over 40 years later to see it in the Loughborough Festival’s 2022 offering with Rachel Nicholls, and I booked a ticket – unfortunately the long journey to Moreton – in Marsh got scuppered by a rail strike and I had to cancel that. I was therefore very pleased to see this production coming up, never having heard a note of the work before. Was my excitement justified? By and large, yes. It is a marvellously orchestrated work, lush, sparkling, firing on all cylinders, with touches of Mahler, Wagner, Puccini, a dash of Lehar, and particularly Richard Strauss – a kaleidoscopic experience that is built on the principle that if you can have 15 rather than 10 lines of instrumental scoring at any moment in the work, the larger number always wins out. At the same time, compared to the Miracle of Heliane, a slightly later work, it is more melodious and less crushingly dense and polytonal in sound texture (see review from this sort of time last year)

Is it a rediscovered masterpiece? No – there are several defects: 1. It’s quite a long evening, and I felt that it could have been pruned by about 20 minutes to good effect, particularly the sequence with Marietta’s acting/dancing friends, a poor relation to Zerbinetta and co in Ariadne auf Naxos; 2. The libretto is occasionally a bit clunky, segueing a bit too obviously into the ‘big’ arias and romantic moments. 3. Somehow also the libretto (a product of Korngold himself and his domineering father, a true successor to Leopold Mozart in the management of his child prodigy son) seems unbalanced (I felt we could have done with more of Paul’s dreary life in the ‘tomb’ of his museum to Maria before he meets Marietta, and perhaps less of the psychotic dream). Also the ” it was all a dream after all” seems to devalue the experiences we have gone through with Paul and Marietta – in fact the production deliberately blurred the distinction between what was reality and what was dream, maybe as a response to that.

But for all that, I would happily see the work again – I would go to a second performance on this run, if I weren’t so busy – and am thinking that I should buy a recording of it. The opera deals with loss and grief, and moving on from these, at an emotionally powerful depth, and these themes are of course universal – they explain why the post First World War audiences were gripped by the work, and its continuing relevance for us today after the recent pandemic. There is a lot of simply gorgeous and memorable music that is growing on me – particularly of course Marietta’s Song, which is new to me. And it is of course an extraordinary achievement for a 23 year-old. There are lots of connections – timing, idiom, attraction for an audience when first performed – with Strauss’ Die Frau ohne Schatten, though undoubtedly the latter work is in a different league

So what of the production and the performance? The setting was a possibly 1920’s (some reviews said 1950’s) large room, and the singers were costumed somewhere early to mid-20th century. The back wall of the room lifted up at points to reveal a see-through gauze curtain through which shadowy figures could be seen moving in procession with lots of smoke – Marie’s re-enacted funeral and other moments (curiously the funeral figures seemed more late 19th century). The overall colour scheme was greys, blacks and browns with then Marietta standing out in greens, blues and other vivid colours. The acting was very good – Rolf Romei gave a terrific portrayal of Paul, throwing himself around the stage with passion and energy. In what I imagine is a tricky role to get right, Allison Oakes was an excellent Marietta whose acting performance was never over the top, always creating sympathy for the character; it must be easy to exaggerate things on this role. In terms of singing the supporting cast was led by Sarah Connolly no less as Birgitta the maid, a warmly sung portrayal, and Paul’s friend Frank was sung beautifully by Audun Iversen (a Norwegian singer with international experience and no particular UK connections – so much for ENO supporting mainly British singers). Allison  Oakes (a new name to me)    as Marietta was quite a find – she is British but like Catherine Foster (who I am seeing next week in Turandot) she has built her career in Europe, and she is now singing the heavy Wagner roles in Germany; her voice sounded wonderful in the Coliseum acoustic: powerful, able to sing quietly to beautiful effect and without stress or wobble in the higher register. Rolf Romei  as Paul was announced as ill – one sensed that he was holding back some of the time and a few top notes cracked, but he was clearly and powerfully experienced in signing the role. At the end of the day, though, it’s the orchestra and how it is handled that is the remarkable thing about this work, and this Kiril Karrabits and the ENO orchestra performed the work marvellously, with the Coliseum acoustic ideally suited to this sort of sound. I’d very happily see and hear this work again

Mozart String Quartet no 16 K428; Janacek String Quartet no 2 (Intimate Letters); Beethoven String Quarter Op 59 no 2 (Razoumovsky): Marmen Quartet

The quartet was founded in 2013 by Johannes Marmen and Ricky Gore, violinists at the Royal College of Music in London. In 2019 they won the Grand Prize at the Bordeaux International String Quartet Competition, and in the same year they won joint First Prize at the Banff International String Quartet Competition, where they were also awarded the Haydn and Canadian Commission prizes.

This was a hugely enjoyable concert of works which I have not heard live before. In each case, hearing the work live offered a special opportunity to concentrate and listen intently in a way that’s not always easy to do listening at home. There was also a real sense of rapport with the audience – the Marmen Quartet were mentored in their early stages by Peter Cropper, the founder of Music in the Round, and the audience welcomed them enthusiastically…..and with justification. I liked the way in which the sound world of the quartet varied from work to work – hugely passionate in the Janacek but also with the ‘Cunning Little Vixen-like sounds of the natural world beautifully evoked in the slow movement, more restrained in the Mozart, and with a fierce energy in the Beethoven. At times I thought there was a slight hesitancy about some of the voices, and an occasional lack of balance, but that could just be where I was sitting and my relative unfamiliarity with these works.

The strangest in many ways was the Mozart, with elements of the ‘galant’ style abounding, but at the same time some extraordinary harmonies at the beginning of the work, and dark twists and turns in the substantial first movement.

But I also loved the refreshing unpredictability of the Janacek, and this was a real find for me – I have a recording but have never listened to it properly. The Beethoven I know better and this was a good, maybe not overly ‘spiritual’ reading – the beautiful arpeggio passages in the slow movement seemed slightly matter-of-fact, for instance.

But all in all I am very glad I made the effort to go to this, despite heavy rain and, on my part, a wracking cough (happily subdued during the concert)

Sadly I missed the Opera North production of Ariadne auf Nacos last Friday in Salford due to a combination of heavy snow and cancelled trains. ‘But the trains unexpectedly seemed to be running today between two rail strike days. So in addition to doing various things in Sheffield I managed to get to this excellent lunchtime recital by two members of Ensemble 360, Gemma Rosefield and Tim Horton.

Cello Sonatas No. 1 and No. 2, Op. 5, are two sonatas for cello and piano written by Beethoven in 1796, while he was in Berlin. Tim Horton told us that these sonatas are the first examples of fully developed cello sonatas in Western classical music. There is no precedent – it’s the first time the cello was not used simply as a continuo instrument in a sonata. In the early 19th century, sonatas for piano and instrument were usually advertised as piano sonatas with instrumental accompaniment. Beethoven’s first violin sonatas, for instance, were published as “sonatas for piano with accompaniment by the violin.” The cello sonata was especially prone to this as it grew out of sonatas for continuo; as late as the beginning of the 19th century it was still common for the cello in cello sonatas to double the left hand of the piano part, with the piano right hand playing obligato figurations and melodies. Tim explained how Beethoven cleverly distinguishes the two instruments when one – the piano – is prone to play much more loudly than the other. Nearly always, he says, the two instruments are playing in different registers – when one is playing high, the -other will be in the middle or low – etc
It is fascinating to hear how, though composed at the start of Beethoven’s career, very different these sonatas sound to chamber music works by Haydn or Mozart. Without descending into clichéd comments about Beethoven’s personality, there is definitely something gruff and edgy about them and the cellist played up to this in some of her playing in quite amusing ways, particularly in the first sonata. There is also energy and drive, as well as occasional moments of stillness and peace. But grace and poise wouldn’t particularly strike one as descriptive terms for these works.
They’re not works I know at all. It was lovely to be able to sit with them for a lunchtime hour.

Rusalka, Asmik Grigorian; Prince, David Butt Philip; Vodník, Rafal Siwek; Duchess, Emma Bell; Ježibaba; Sarah Connolly; Hajny, Ross Ramgobin; Kuchtík, Hongni Wu. Directors, Ann Yee And Natalie Abrahami; Set Designer, Chloe Lamford; Costume Designer; Annemarie Woods; Lighting Designer, Paule Constable. Conductor, Semyon Bychkov.

I have heard this work once before live, at Glyndebourne, certainly, and possibly I saw the famous ENO Pountney production in the early 80’s – if I did,, 40 years ago, I’ve completely lost any memory of it . I was looking forward to the ENO Rusalka in March/April 2020, abandoned on the brink of the first performance by the pandemic, and I suspect it might have been a finer production than this. But not musically………… 

For, above all, this new ROHCG production offered an extremely fine musical performance, and the conducting of Semyon Bychkov was almost beyond praise, really. I cannot imagine a more poetic and sensitive account of this work. There were countless moments when a gorgeous phrase was highlighted, a sensitive sudden hushing or diminuendo made, and much beautiful playing by the orchestra, particularly in the woodwind and horns. Nothing was raucous. I suppose, in terms of pulse, it was slowish – the beginning of Act 2 notably so, given other readings I have heard – but somehow this didn’t really matter. I just enjoyed the beautiful sound world Bychkov was creating. ‘World class’ is a bit of an over-used epithet, particularly since our last-but-one Prime Minister, but I really can’t use any other phrase for the musical aspect of this performance. All the Wagnerian tendencies and tinges were brought out in this reading, but also it shone with Bychkov and the orchestra’s clear love for Dvorak’s haunting folk tunes and idioms too. 

And not just the orchestra……..the cast was extremely fine, with no weak links. Small parts were cast from strength – Russ Ramgobin, for instance, an extraordinarily powerful Alberich in the Birmingham Rhinegold in 2021, was Hajny. Emma Bell, a very fine Sieglinde in the ENO Valkyrie in the same year, was a lustrous Foreign Princess, with her striking creamy tones; Sarah Connolly a commanding presence as ever as Jezibaba.  David Butt Phillip made a lot of what I can imagine might be a rather droopy character in other hands, with a strong clear voice, sounding as though he should be singing some of the less demanding Wagner roles soon, and convincingly portraying the obsession the character has with Rusalka (he used a ‘head voice’ a couple of times in the higher range which emphasised a point by a gentleman near me, that he was originally a baritone. I hope the tenor upper range doesn’t become a problem for him. ……..And then there was Asmik Gregorian as Rusalka…….she is always fascinating to watch,  one of those singers who just have a magnetic presence on stage. Her voice isn’t conventionally beautiful, but its slightly harsh brittle sound is ideal for singing tortured characters such as Senta, Jenufa and Rusalka. She uses her voice very well – almost whispered moments, big climaxes – and acts convincingly; a totally gripping performance. 

So, if this were a concert performance, I am sure it would have been one of my highlights of the year……But……… 

I felt there were two problems with the evening, reflecting on it the following morning: 

• Inherently the work has flaws dramatically. The third act, in particularly is sluggish, with several rather inconsequential episodes (such as the three singing Wood-sprites) to pad out the inevitable crises of Rusalka meeting her father after running away from the Prince, and the Prince’s meeting with Rusalka and joining her in death. As a whole it is a long evening, with at times little to focus on on stage (but of course with the gorgeous music to enjoy). (Interestingly I had dredged up from my memory something about Gustav Mahler expressing a willingness to conduct Rusalka. Googling that this morning, I learned, at least according to the article I read, that Mahler had indeed entered into correspondence with Dvorak about performing the work in Vienna, in 1901, but that the projected run of performances was repeatedly postponed and in the end never took place, due, in part, the article said, to Mahler’s doubts about whether it worked as an opera). 
• Though, to its credit, it never got in the way particularly, the production had few insights to offer. The second act set was the best  –  a box set of rooms with the upper part of the stage blocked, to show the artificiality and restricted nature of the Prince’s world. There was a very effective moment when the upper curtain is raised and we see the world of the forest and pool beyond, as Rusalka’s father, the Vlodnik, enters the Prince’s palace. The first act was a fairly conventional  – almost story-book like – forest and pool (I kept getting a bit irritated that, having created a convincing pool centre stage, people kept walking all over it) with a large round rocky quasi-toilet seat above, to give a sense of peering into the pool. The same basic set in act 3 had all the green and blue colourings removed to create a bleak polluted pool of reds and greys, without forest cover. The singers seemed to be largely left to their own devices. But, though things seemed a bit routine, this was not particularly in a bad way – the production just was not doing more than framing the music in a rather old-fashioned approach. In directoral terms there is so much that could be done with this work – domestic violence? abuse of women and trafficking? the climate crisis (which the programme notes said were a focus for the production, but this did not particularly come across); something about the modern view of identity? It’s a pity the production didn’t challenge the audience more / make more contemporary connections 

But the music, as I say, made for a hugely enjoyable evening! 

Martyn Brabbins, conductor; Richard Jones, director; Stewart Laing, designer, Adam Silverman, lighting designer; Akhila Krishnan, video designer. John Reylea, Wotan; Leigh Melrose, Alberich. Frederick Ballentine, Loge; Madeleine Shaw, Fricka; John Findon, Mime; Christine Rice, Erda; Katie Lowe, Freia; Julian Hubbard, Froh; Blake Denson, Donner; Simon Bailey, Fasolt; James Cresswell, Fafner; Eleanor Dennis, Woglinde; Idunnu Münch, Wellgunde; Katie Stevenson, Flosshilde

This production was one of the clearest narrative accounts I’ve seen of Rhinegold, and managed to be both that, and extraordinarily inventive, at the same time, never cluttering or obscuring the action, and always using references in the text as the basis for imaginative expansion. A good example of this occurs at the beginning, when we come into the theatre; there’s a big tree centre-stage, which must be the World Ash Tree. Before the prelude starts there’s a brief silent piece of action, when men, clearly dressed in progressive historical periods’ clothing, gradually denude the tree of its branches, the final figure being Wotan, who of course has used a bough of the World Ash Tree to make his spear. It’s a very clever piece of stage enactment which shows very clearly the way in which in Wagner’s view our society has gradually eroded the sacred basis of life, and forgotten its roots in the natural world. 

The basic set is a spangly backdrop, which can represent the Rhine but also provided an effective background for Nibelheim and the mountain top near Valhalla. Scene 1 has the Rhine maidens as lycra-clad gym-users, while Alberich is a young man in T shirt and baggy blue shorts. The Rhinegold is personalised (and there is justification for this in the way the Rhine Maidens refer to ‘he’ rather than ‘it’ at points), a kind of humanoid baby-like puppet, which is scrunched up by Alberich at the end of the scene into a formless mass. This is, again, an aspect of the dehumanising world of Nibelheim. Scenes 2 and 4 have the same spangly backdrop but in addition a series of giant candy-floss sticks (or maybe mushrooms) which, however strange, are quite effective at giving a sense of decadence and aloof living – they vaguely reminded me of the ceremonial umbrellas West African kings have, but without the ritual and ceremonial connotations. Three parts of the spectacle are particularly effective 

• the mass production factory of Nibelheim, with the ENO chorus costumed in identical white T shirts and baggy blue shorts, and with harsh fluorescent lighting;  
• the rainbow bridge scene – there’s no bridge but hundreds of pieces of coloured glitter, which sparkle like a rainbow as they descend; 
• and the image of Valhalla which suddenly emerges from the darkness right at the end, not a fortress or palace but a prison. In a really clever coup-de-theatre, the  perspective suddenly moves from the gods walking towards Valhalla to their being inside it, rushing to block the windows and entry points to prevent any access by the Rhine maidens protesting outside 
  
  I was very impressed by the way Richard Jones and his production team stuck to the text in what’s offered on stage. If there’s a reference to a spear, there’s a spear; there’s a ‘real’ dragon and toad; the gold blocks really do block the sight of Freia; Donner has a real hammer. When there are expansions from the text they are fittingly, sometimes amusingly done (e.g. the lorry Fafner drives onto the stage to pick up the gold) and sometimes very effectively enhancing the action (the black clad dancers supporting the Rhine maidens in their swimming). The brutality shown on stage – by Alberich and a team of duplicate Alberich-like overseers, or in the killing of Fasolt (the nastiest I’ve seen)  – are part of an overarching vision; everything coheres. The whole production emphasised how much better a text-driven approach works than those playing faster and looser with what Wagner wrote (e.g the Bayreuth production last summer, whose overall concept was not that dissimilar), while still remaining contemporary, and, where appropriate, funny. I thought what Jones has produced was rather clearer and more effective than the Keith Warner production at Covent Garden, too. I suppose my one question mark would be over the pink pyjama’d Erda and her three school-girl Norns………….. 

 As with Jones’ Valkyrie in late 2021, the other thing which impressed in this production was the handling of individuals and their reactions to each other – meticulously crafted and thoughtful. Examples of this would be Wotan kissing Erda passionately (appropriate given that she is subsequently the mother of the Valkyries), the dissociation Freia is shown to feel from the gods because of the treatment of Fasolt, and the affection she demonstrates towards him, and the way in which the Rhimemaidens credibly flirt with Alberich 

 I did wonder how what we saw on stage in Rhinegold related to the snowy, bleak, wooden huts and survivalist scenes in Jones’ ‘Valkyrie’. Let us hope we have the chance to find out, though the chances of this Ring continuing are wholly dependent on the continuation of the ENO in its current form, or on the Met agreeing to continue to fund it (and, despite my unwillingness to fly anywhere, I probably would fly to New York for a Jones/Met Ring cycle, if it ever happened). 

So what about individual performances and the music? There were a range of outstanding performances: 

• Alberich – Leigh Melrose had a terrifying presence on stage once possessed of the Ring, and was truly manic in the way he charged around stage with a truncheon. His voice was lighter maybe than some Alberich’s but he used it very powerfully, including at times a bordering on sprech-stimme 
• Loge – Frederick Ballentine was very effective (I guess it is a gift of a role, and I have never really seen an unimpressive Loge) in projecting his words, dominating the stage and displaying his tricksy dis-association from the gods. With the help of Jones, Loge’s commitment to the Rhinenaidens’ cause of getting their lost gold back came across more effectively than in other productions I have seen. 
• Wotan – John Relyea was a commanding presence; he has a beautiful sonorous voice that makes him a very credible Wotan. Again, his emotional movements from triumphalism to despair were very credibly captured. I have a particularly strong memory of Wotan lying prostrate on the floor, in collapse after the killing of Fasolt  
• Mime – John Findon is a big bloke and so a surprising bit of casting for Mime, but he gave an unusually sharp character sketch of an exploited worker, again in regulation white T shirt and blue shorts. His diction was the best of all the cast, and he used his voice flexibly and (in describing the Nibelung past) movingly

But the rest of the cast were good too – there were no weak links (and including some casting from strength like Erda being sung by Christine Rice). Donner (Blake Denson)’s voice. for instance, made a splendid sound in his big hammer-wielding act before the rainbow bridge appears.

If I had one question mark over the performance it would be the conducting. The orchestral playing was excellent (beautiful oboe playing when Fasolt sings about his loneliness, some stunning horn playing), but I sometimes felt there was a lack of drive, a lack of a sense of overwhelming climaxes and contrasts compared to some readings. However conceivably this might have been where I was sitting – great view of the stage, slightly occluded view (and therefore audio-occluded as well) of the orchestra.

All in all, though, this was very memorable. And, at the very least, the musical leadership let the story unfold naturally and underpinned the narrative effectively.  Apart from the Birmingham Rhinegold in July 2021 it’s probably the most effective production I’ve seen of this work.

Haydn Piano Trio In A Hob:XV No.18; Tchaikovsky The Seasons (Selection) Arr. For Piano Trio; Tchaikovsky Piano Trio Op.50 . Leonore Piano Trio

How nice to go to a concert where all the works are new to me, and pleasurably so.

I suppose that the Haydn piece, being one piano trio among so many others (over 40), might mean that you have some understanding of what you’re likely to expect – but then of course that’s absolutely the point of Haydn, that there’s always a quirk, an ingenuity and you DO never quite know what to expect. In this case, the piano trio in A major Hob XV:18 had a long first movement which started genially but which got into quite surprising Sturm und Drang mode towards the end the development section, where there were some strange harmonic quirks and remote keys. The Andante and the final Allegro were much shorter. The interplay between the instruments was great fun to listen to and, it being the Crucible, exciting to watch close up. Tim Horton, the pianist, explained how Haydn had invented the genre single-handedly and that many of his earlier trios were perhaps more like piano sonatas with accompaniment, but in this work all three instruments are important.

The Tchaikovsky ‘Seasons’ extracts (there were 4 – January, May, October and December) were originally piano pieces but here arranged by a younger contemporary, Goedicke, for piano trio. To be frank, none of them really seemed to paint ‘tone pictures’ of what those months might feel like, unlike Vivaldi’s, but they were all easy on the ear, and one, December, has a real ear-worm of a tune, straight out of one of the big ballets, and a waltz too!!

The Tchaikovsky Piano Trio is a really big piece – 47 minutes was the timing given in the programme notes.  It was written in memory of Tchaikovsky’s friend and mentor, Nicolai Rubinstein, who died in 1881. It was hugely enjoyable to listen to and I am definitely going to buy a recording of the work. It was also, again, gripping to sit so near to the two string players as they dug into their notes. Its structure is not a very obvious or immediately clear one, I found – there are 5 sections but two movements (the five being Pezzo elegiaco (Moderato assai. Allegro giusto); Tema con variazioni; Andante con moto; Variazioni; Finale e coda) and the emotional trajectory is not that easy to follow – seemingly moving from the passionate to light-hearted to seemingly triumphant to despair. But definitely one to explore….I did wonder why Tchaikovsky had in fact decided that a piano trio was the right vehicle for this music; it’s music that at times could have sounded wonderful (the reprise of the big opening theme at the end of the work, for instance) with a full symphony orchestra.

Throughout the playing of the Trio was excellent – and the hall was full!!!