Salzburger Zeitung 2013 - Post Script

 Dateline:  July 20, 2013: 

A few final comments on this year and next years' Festivals and then probably another of those prolonged silences I've now become known for.

As with any festival there are bound to be highs and lows - not always the fault of the artists or the artistic director doing the programming.  What often looks good on paper falls flat when realized.  Of the seven events we took in a this year's Pfingstfestspeil I can honestly say the the highs set the bar at such a level that in many other venues the lows would have been considered highs.

The highlights?  Do you have to ask?  It will be a long time before I see or hear that Norma equalled and the Gubaidulina-Shostakovich double bill made me an emotional wreck. The low?  I'm afraid the Haydn Seven Last Words left me wishing I had spent the afternoon sipping Aperol Spritz on the terrace of the Cafe Bazar.  That's how high the bar was this year.  That Bartoli girl knows how to put on a damn fine festival.

On the Sunday evening as we sat enjoying a nightcap in the Sketch Bar our friend Dr. M. showed us the prospectus for 2014.  It came as a bit of a surprise and a lively discussion broke out about the merits of returning or not.  Rossinissimo! trumpeted the title - and in her preface La Ceci waxed enthusiastic over the beloved son of Pesaro.  And frankly who better?  Much of her early reputation was built on her appearances in Il Barbiere and Cenerentola and recently she has appeared in Conte Ory and Otello.   Now as much as I love Rossini when I couple his name with Festival I think of our August trips to Pesaro.  Did I really want to come back to Salzburg in June for what I could see in August on the sun soaked shores of the Adriatic?

Well Cenerentola is my favourite Rossini opera and I had never seen La Ceci sing Angelina; Otello is a work I've been fascinated by since I read an article in Opera News more than 50 years ago and she has put together an interesting cast (always a challenge when you need three - not the Three - tenors).   As she showed this year, she may be the artistic director and the nominal star but she surrounds herself with performers of equal star quality.  So yes we get La Ceci in Cenerentola and Otello but the supporting casts include Javier Camarena, Nichola Alaimo, John Osborn and Barry Banks.  But the programme bracketed by the two operas is even more fascinating.  Franco Fagioli singing music of Meyerbeer and Rossini; David Fray playing Rossini, Liszt, Mozart and Bach; Antonio Pappano exploring the religious Rossini - first the Stabat Mater with his Accademia di Santa Cecilia, Krassimira Stoyanova, Elina Garanca, Piotr Beczala and Erwin Schrott on the Sunday morning then the Petite Messe Solennelle with Eva Mei, Vesselina Kasarova, Lawrence Brownlee and Michele Pertusi in the afternoon; Joyce DiDonato giving us Venetian songs by a parcel of composer; and strangest of all A Grand Rossini Gala and dinner.

That gala is the oddest item of the programme - unless you count Il Barbiere by the Salzburg Marionette Theatre, though I like to think of that as inspired - with a parade of singers that is honestly a little frightening.  Fine Bartoli, Kasarova, Ildebrando d'Arcangelo, Camerena and Michele Pertusi are remarkable in the current crop of Rossini singers; however,  as much as I love and revere them I am honestly trying to think what Agnes Baltsa, Teresa Berganza, Monstserrat Caballe, Jose Carreras, Leo Nucci and Ruggero Raimondi can possible sing at this stage of their lives.  Sometimes it is best to be left with your treasured memories. 

As tempting as the programme looked, and Christian, our host at the Bristol, kept pointing up all the positives, we  decided that we'd go elsewhere for our musical pleasure in 2014.  Our Festival friend Dr M firmly avowed the same.  Just before leaving for Füssen on Tuesday morning we ran into the good Doctor who admitted to having just returned from the box office and they would mail his tickets to him later in the week.

We chortled at his lack of resolve and headed out to the train station.  We would never be so weak-willed.

July 20 - Petrarch, Italian scholar and poet is born in Arezzo (d. 1374)

Salzburger Zeitung 2013 - Seventh Edition

Dateline:  July 14, 2013:

Not for the first time I've saved the best at the Whitsun Festival for last.

I will begin by saying I'm not a fan of Bellini - of the big three of bel canto he is my least favourite: #1 Rossini #2 Donizetti #3 Bellini.  Yes I know many of my friends with better music knowledge than I find my love of Rossini a case of arrested musical development but there it is.  More often than not Bellini bores me:  in La Sonnambula I find myself almost as comatose as its eponymous heroine (oh come on now she was sleepwalking when she wandered into a big butch bass-baritone's bedroom?) and I Puritani is only one of two operas I've walked out of in 61 years of opera going.  Sorry, poor old Elvira - what the hell sort of name is that for a Puritan girl? - going mad once is okay - twice no dice!  I Capuletti e Montecchi - okay that one I love, it's fast, it's furious and it's filled with great music.  Il Pirata, Beatrice di Tenda and La Stangeria - well let's admit it there's a reason they aren't revived all that often.

That leaves only the biggie:  Norma.   And I'm not all that crazy about it - give me Lucia di Lammamoor in her blood stained nightgown or Maria Stuarda in her soon to be blood stained nightgown but Norma running around cutting mistletoe and mooning over some Roman.   As we use to say in Rome:  boh!

And there in doth lie a slight problem.  In those 61 years of opera going there are two performances that rank in the top 10 I've seen - both of them of ....    Norma!

Back in 1974 at the Roman Theatre in Orange Montserrat Caballe fought a Mistral to sing what she - without exaggeration  I believe - claimed to be the greatest performance of her life.  The score that night was Monstie 1 - Mistral 0.

The triumphant curtain calls - Josephine Veasey, Montserrat Caballe and Jon Vickers acknowledge
the cheering, bravoing audience at that legendary 1974 Norma in Orange. When I watch the video
of that evening I like to think that I can actually hear my own bravos over the rest!

In the shadow of Augustus Caesar, as the orchestra struggled to read flapping scores clothes-pinned to their music stands,  Caballe, Jon Vickers and Josephine Veasey generated drama and excitement that has stayed in my mind's ear and eye for almost 50 years.  This was opera in the grand old style that was starting to disappear even back then - more about voice than staging.  Given those great voices how could it not have been?

Pollione - Jon Vickers (top left, bottom right)   Norma - Montserrat Caballe (top and bottom right)
 Adalgisa - Josephine Veasey (bottom left) * Orange 1974.

They were big glorious voices pouring out torrents of sound, fighting the elements and displaying the power of the human voice to convey emotion and drama.  It was thrilling!  And it was Grand Opera at its grandest!

Fast forward to this year's Whitsun Festival and a Norma that could not have been more different but in its own way was one of the most exciting evenings I've spent at the opera.

Friday May 17: LiebesOPFER
Haus für Mozart: 1900

Before the ink had dried on the Festival prospectus the opera blogs were awash with "opera-lovers" damning Cecilia Bartoli's announcement that she would be singing Norma at this year's Whitsun Festival.  The cries of sacrilege that she would even try to sing a role which belonged - do you hear me BELONGED - to the long gone Maria Callas arose from lips that where still suckling at their mother's breast when Callas retired from the stage.  Her voice is too small!  She doesn't have the technique!  Her voice is too small!  She's too mannered!  Her voice is too small!  She doesn't have the nobility! She's too small!  If the blogasphere was to be believed it was going to be a bigger disaster than ... than... well any other role that Bartoli had sung that they from the comfort of their mostly Manhattan bedsits had seen on YouTube.  This disdain for La Ceci seems to be in not only North American centred but particularly New Yorkcentric and emits from opera "lovers" who, I would hazard a guess, have never seen her live.

Now like them I have seen La Ceci on video and agree that she has mannerisms that in close up can be irritating and like every singer she has her quirks and ticks both physically and vocally.  My only experience with her on stage was in concert in Roma.  That evening she played the role of the "diva" - and we were her adoring subjects.  And frankly I had own doubts about how suitable she would be in a role I normally associate with grand divas of a different sort.

Cecilia Bartoli as Norma, the spirit of Anna Magnani was never far from the surface in her riveting portrayal.  Untraditional vocally and dramatically it was none-the-less a great interpretation.

But this was to be a Norma with a difference.  It was a new critical edition by Maurizio Biondi and Riccardo Minasi going back to the original Bellini manuscript in the Conservatorio Santa Cecilia in Rome.  The allocation of voices was to reflect more closely what is known about the singers that created the roles.  And the orchestration was more in tune with the forces available at the period rather than the larger orchestras that were to come into fashion shortly thereafter.  Two hundred years of changes and "improvements" were to be removed to come as close as possible to Bellini's intentions.  Musically it was the equivalent of the house cleaning that had previously largely been done with Rossini but is now being extended to other composers of the bel canto. 

Norma (Bartoli) is first approached by Pollione (John Osborn) as teachers are led away and the local school is closed by the occupying forces.  One of the few examples of dumb show I've every seen that actually worked.

A clean slate musically obviously would call for a clean slate dramatically; I will admit that I cringed when I saw the first production photos on the Salzburg website.  It was to be a modern production by the team of Moshe Leiser and Patrice Caurier, Bartoli's preferred directing team.  I had not imagined the flapping canvas oak trees of the ottocento and frankly the thought of Bartoli in pseudo-druid draperies and laurel leave crown was slightly risible.  But was I ready for updating to more recent times?  Was this going to be another one of those regie-theatre concepts with barbed wire sets and Nazis in great coats so beloved in Germanic countries? 

Leader of the local Resistance, Oroveso (Michele Pertusi) cautions his followers to wait for a signal from his daughter, Norma.

Yes there was a directors' concept and, thankfully, no there were no great coats or swastikas. Norma takes places in Roman occupied Gaul: Leiser and Caurier gave us an occupied country, perhaps France, in the 1940s.  The forces of the occupiers appeared briefly in a dumb show prologue in the schoolroom where Norma is the principal and she and Pollione meet for the first time.  After the school has been closed it is to become the meeting place for the Resistance Movement led by Oroveso (Michele Pertusi).  There was one brief reference to Nazi-style helmets but honestly it could have been any occupied country at any time in recent history - Laurent said he thought it almost had a Balkan look to it.  What is important is the dramatic thrust that it gave Romani's somewhat formula love-triangle.  Suddenly it became the very modern story of a woman who had slept with the enemy and secretly betrayed her people and one of her young country women who was about to (or in this version did) make the same mistake.   The bond between the two women became central to everything - Mira Norma wasn't about two sportive ladies showing their vocal chops but two desperate woman in a situation neither of them knew how to get out of.  It was music drama at its finest - in a bel canto opera!!!!!

Adalgisa (Rebeca Olvera) confesses to Norma that she has been seduced and fallen in love with one of the occupying army.  Norma knows only too well the emotion.

A great deal of that drama came from the change of voices from what has become traditional in Norma over the past two centuries.   Rebeca Olvera (Adalgisa) has a light soprano voice - I kept thinking Norina or Adina, both parts sung by Giulia Grisi the creator of Adalgisa - perfect for the young, inexperienced girl who is so easily seduced by the suave Roman soldier.  And seductive John Osborn (Pollione) was in tone and demeanor; though there was a certain sleazy cruelty to his seduction - you almost felt that if he didn't get his way he would take it!  But it was in the final duets with Bartoli that he gave his best vocally and dramatically - matching her and making the change of heart almost believable.

In the dramatic trio that ends the first act Norma realizes that the man that has seduced Adalgisa is the father of her children. 

As remarkable as Olvera and Osborn were the opera is after all called Norma and as I said even I had reservations about Bartoli assuming the role.  I need not have worried - in this production, this edition and at this time she was Norma!  Were the vocal mannerisms there?  At times yes but only during a few of the rapid fire colouratura passages did they become apparent.   If the Casta Diva was not the show stopper - despite attempts to do so by some die-hard Bartolinis* - it was because in the context of the staging it was only part of a larger dramatic arc.  This was not a great diva spinning out lovely sounds - though the lovely sounds were there - this was a woman stalling for time to save her lover - the enemy.

Adalgisa and Norma dream of escaping the inescapable - they have betrayed their people, their vows to the Resistance.

 The programme featured several photos of Anna Magnani and Bartoli acknowledged that she used the great actress's performance in Roma, citta aperta as a starting point for her portrayal of Norma.  Nowhere was that more evident than in Dormono entrambi,  the scena that begins Act 2.  After the harrowing revelations of the Act 1 trio we discovered Norma, disheveled, drunk on bitterness and perhaps alcohol hunched against the wall of her apartment.  The threat to her children was very real - again desperation was never very far from the surface.  This made the subsequent scene with Adalgisa even more intense and as I said Mira Norma became a foolish attempt by two scared women bound by guilt to find a solution to their impossible situation.

Norma confronts the man who has betrayed and taunts him - she will reveal the name of his lover and he will watch as her countrymen take their revenge on her betryal.

From there the drama swept along, irrevocably until that electrifying moment when after taunting the bound Pollione, she blurts out, not to the crowd but directly into his face, Son Io - the confession that seals her death. The subsequent appeal to her father for her children had an aching tenderness - again with a slight edge of desperation.  As Laurent said afterwards, Michele Pertusi's Oroveso may have agreed but somehow you felt these children (one an infant) would not live long after their mother and that this Norma may have felt that in her heart.

Granted Baroli's dramatic and even vocal approach may have robbed the part of some of the "nobility" that has become associated with Norma but it was a complete exciting portrait from curtain raise until her final sacrifice.  She wasn't trying to match any of the ghosts of the past - nor did she need to - this was Bartoli's Norma.

But as much drama as there was on stage it was equally match by the drama in the pit.  Conducting Orchestra La Scintilla, the fine period ensemble of the Zurich Opera, Giovanni Antonini seldom let the temperature or pace drop.  I understand there has been some criticism of his conducting on the album that Decca released to coincide with the Salzuburg premiere.  I purposely avoided listening to it until long after the performance and find the accusation that he pushes things unfounded either in the theatre or on disc.  There were grace moments - the introduction to Act 2,  Norma's plea to her father - but he obviously saw the score as not simply a succession of arias, duets and trios but an overall dramatic sweep of music that took us along to its tragic and fiery end

Bound together Norma and Pollione face death in one of the most incredibly dramatic endings I've ever seen to any theatrical production in my life.

And what an end!  Norma, her hair shorn, and Pollione were bound to chairs on a pyre of furniture, books and anything in the room that would burn.  The school room where they had met was doused in gasoline and set on fire by the betrayed Resistance.  Windows shattered and flames lept through the floor and it was as if the entire stage of the Haus für Mozart was aflame.  It was dramatic stage craft at its best - a true wedding of the music to the drama.

I've seen  Norma as Grand Opera and I've seen Norma as Music Theatre and both experiences have  moved me to tears and had me on my feet cheering.   

*I've yet to come across a term for the die-hard Bartoli fans so figure this will do as well as anything.

PS:  Though Leiser and Caurier filled the production with grand moments there were some subtle pieces of staging that were impressive and suggest the work that they put into their concepts.  In the first act Pollione and his aide Flavio stole into the school room after the Resistance members had left; as his aide searched the room, Pollione took a book from a shelf, leaved through it distastefully and methodically tore out a few pages and let them fall to the floor.  Later Oroveso saw them, picked them up and gave a troubled look around the room - they were being watched!  Anyone who has ever been under surveillance will tell you that it is not uncommon for a "calling card" to be left - just to let you know that you are being observed.  An almost unnoticeable piece of business but one that added to the tension that was carefully being built up. 

All production photos are courtesy the Salzburg Festival 

© Hans Jörg Michel
E-Mail: h.j.michel@web.de 

July 14 -1902: The Campanile in St. Mark's Square, Venice collapses, also demolishing the loggetta.

Salzburger Zeitung 2013 - Sixth Edition

Dateline:  June 23, 2013:

A week or so of intense work and several evening engagements have meant that things are being left undone, half-done or done but not posted.  This is a long overdue look at the last two concerts of this year's Whitsun Festival.  I am saving my thoughts on the Norma that served as the centrepiece for this year's programme - perhaps along the lines of saving the best for last.  But it will come - honestly.

Monday May 20: Final Day of the Festival - Part II

Religiöses Opfer
Stiftskirche St. Peter: 1500

In writing of his Seven Last Words from the Cross Haydn said "it was no easy task to compose seven adagios lasting ten minutes each, one after the other, without tiring the listener."  And despite the undoubted beauty of the music and the always remarkable artistry of the Hagen Quartet I have to agree.   It really does go on a bit - to the point that the Earthquake movement that ends it seems positively exciting - though mind you I've always thought Haydn was good at that sort of programme music, his Chaos in The Creation is miraculous.    Several things seemed to be working against the performance:  the baroque splendor of St Peter's with its newly plated silver altar-ware was hardly the venue for the austerity of this Good Friday meditation; a sudden and violent storm meant that the quiet beauty of the revelation of paradise in the Second Sonata (Hodie mecum eris in paradiso) was drowned out by the beating of hail on the copper roof; and the presence, behind the communion rail and the Quartet, of Alfred Brendel at a desk with a goose-neck library lamp.

The Hagen Quartet (Lukas Hagen, Rainer Schmidt, Veronika Hagen, Clemens Hagen) pause
between movements of Haydn's Seven Last Words as Alfred Brendal reads from the
programme notes. A rather strange Religious Sacrifice!

One of the great pianists of the last century, since his retirement from the concert halls Brendel has forged a career as a reader in the German speaking world.  When it was announced that he would be doing the readings between the movements I had assumed he would be reading devotional or meditative texts.  Though my German is minimal I was looking forward to something along the lines of the services of words and music I have heard in other German/Austrian churches.  Instead he regaled us with the programme notes recited in rather flat, unmusical tones.  Of the five readings two spoke to the death of Christ - a passage from Jean Paul's Speech of the Dead Christ from the Universe that there is no God from Siebenkäs; and the Seven Words of Man from José Saramago's The Gospel According to Jesus Christ.   Rather odd choices to accompany Haydn's devotional work but certainly more interesting than a recitation of "then he sat down and wrote".

Il terremoto (the earthquake) - the final movement of the string quartet version of 

Haydn's The Seven Last Words  From the Cross as played by Assai String Quartet.

The programme made for a rather strange 90 minutes and I'm not at all sure that the quick exit of the audience at the end was only because there was another concert following shortly. 

Versöhnungs Opfer
Grosses Festspielhaus: 1800

By Monday late afternoon it was possible to believe that the subject of Opfer - Sacrifice had been well and truly explored musically.   However there was one concert left to this year's Whitsun Festival and it was devoted to "Versöhnen".  It means reconciliation and I have to admit that initially the significance of that term as it applied to Brahms's Ein deutsches Requiem, nach Worten der heiligen Schrift (A German Requiem to texts from the Holy Scriptures) escaped me.   A closer reading of the text made it clear:  Brahm's eschewed the words of the Roman Requiem and chose texts from both the Old and New Testaments as found in the German Luther Bible.  The work begins and ends with the word "selig" - "blessed" and points to the living rather than the dead and eventually to the comfort that will be found for those that mourn.  A humanist approach to death, grieving and "reconciliation".

There was another type of reconciliation very much in evidence on the stage of the Grosses Festspeilhaus.  As well as an impressive line up of vocal talent - Cecilia Bartoli, René Pape, the Wiener Singverein - Daniel Barenboim was on the podium leading his West-Eastern Divan Orchestra. For anyone who does not know the story behind this group of young musicians from the Middle-East (Iran, Israel, Palestine, Syria, Iraq) I suggest you read a bit about them here.  A true attempt at "reconciliation through music" founded by Barenboim and Edward Said.

Cecilia Bartoli, René Pape, the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra and the Wiener Singverein take
their bows after the performance of Brahm's Ein deutsches Requiem.  Hidden in the orchestra
is conductor Daniel Barenboim being assisted in fixing a "wardrobe malfunction".

It was an evening with great emotional impact on several levels.  Barenboim, not one of my favourite conductors, managed to stave off the heaviness that can sometimes make this piece ponderous and despite an unfortunate, but humourous, incident create moments of great beauty and finally serenity.  Though both Bartoli and Pape were on top form - I do wonder if her voice carried to the far reaches of the hall - it was the massed voices of the Singverein that carried the performance to heights.  This is music that is in the choir's foundations - the Singverein premiered the work in its shorter form in 1867.  A large group - it almost look as if all 230 members were on stage - they have a huge sound when needed that at times narrowed to an almost transparent thread.  It was choral singing at its finest.

I'm not sure where of the forces in this particular performance - other than conductor Claudio Abbado
  there is no identification of either the orchestra or choir.  It is taking place in the Musikverein Wien
 the home of the Wiener Sangverein but I am not taking their presence as a given.

The orchestra experienced a few rough patches - they are after all young musicians who work as an ensemble for a short period of time - but again the emotional impact was a strong one.  Was it preconceived because of the nature of the group, perhaps but none the less the emotions were honest ones, truly felt.  As was the ovation at the end!

As for the unfortunate incident - I can say I was there the night that Daniel Barenboim lost his pants!  I honestly don't think many people in the audience realized it but from our seats we had a clear view of the podium and what was happening.  About half way through the performance we became aware of something unusual going on.  It appears that Barenboim's suspenders gave way and his pants began to fall.  There was some furtive clutching with the left hand while conducting with the right; a pause; a few bemused exchanges of glances with Bartoli; then he backed against the podium railing and continued on.  Unfortunately he is not a conductor known for his economy of movement so there were several points where he lunged forward and things began to fall.  It is a credit to both his professionalism and musicianship that despite what was happening he and his forces delivered a beautiful and moving performance.  A closing concert to remember on several levels.

All production photos are courtesy of the Salzburg Festival and © Hans Jörg Michel (E-Mail: h.j.michel@web.de)

23 June -  1943:  James Levine, American conductor and pianist is born

Salzburger Zeitung 2013 - Fifth Edition

Dateline:  June , 2013:

The pathway from St Peter's Platz leading into the Petersfriedhof.  Nestled against the Festungsberg
the castle of Hohensalzburg looms over it, the early catacombs and the monastery church of St Peters.

Wikipedia defines a taphophile as a "Tombstone Tourist": one who has an excessive interest in graves and cemeteries.  I'm not sure if I am really into taphophilia but I admit to a fondness for visiting cemeteries and looking at graves.  Often they are a revealing snapshot of points in time in the history of a place and its people.  The stories of peoples lives, their loves, thier achievements  and their family are traced on elaborate stone and marble vaults, on elaborate iron-work,  simple wooden crosses or enamel plaques.

Take as an example Petersfriedhof or St Peter's Cemetery in Salzburg.  You may recognize it from The Sound of Music.  It was the place where the Von Trapps cowered in the darkness after they had made their cute "Farewell Symphony" exit from the Felsenritsheule which is just a few metres away.  Well dark and threatening it may be during the nighttime but in the daylight it is one of the most peaceful, beautiful and visited places in Salzburg.  On every visit since that first trip back in 1969  I've taken time to stroll along its paths and admire those particularly Tirolian iron-worked markers (a right click will enbiggen the two lovely examples) that serve as memento mori of so many of the local worthies who have passed this way.

The burial ground rests at the foot of the Festungsberg in the shadow of Hohensalzburg.  Though the first recorded burial is not until the 1100s there are some indications that the area served as a cemetery when St Rubert of Salzburg founded the Abbey of St Peter in the 700s  Forming part of the cemetery are catacombs carved into the rock that date from somewhere between 400 and 800 CE thought to be the hiding place of Christians during the Barbarian Invasions.

The cemetery lay dormant and unattended between 1878 and 1930 when it was reopened and restored.  Prior to its closing it served as the final resting place for Michael Haydn and Mozart's sister Nannerl as well as many prominent citizens of the town.  Though many of the more wealth were interred in elaborate vaults in the baroque colonnades along two sides of the cemetery many Salzburgers rest in loving tended plots marked by curlicues of wrought-iron with enamel plaques afixed telling us who and when they were.  Many are adorned with paintings of favourite saints, the Blessed Virgin or the Trinity itself; some worked like fine miniatures, others with more primitive presentations.  But all record the passage of a soul to a place of rest in the shadow of the mountain.

Looking to the rock face of the Festungberg: the Maximuskapelle and the Gertraudenkapelle
and catacombs carved into the side of the mountain that define one of the boundaries of Alte Salzburg. 

Monday May 20: Final Day of the Festival - Part I

I very foolish booked tickets for all three concerts programmed for today - 11:00  15:00  and 18:00 with little time between each one for food or refreshment.  Not the wisest move on my part, particularly as all three programmes were, in nature, a bit on the heavy side.  Continuing the theme of Sacrifice we had a day of Political Sacrifice, Religious Sacrifice and then Opfer in the sense of Offering - an offering of reconciliation. 

Politisches Opfer
Felsenreitschule: 1100

Perhaps this was the most interesting programming of the festival - two works that spoke to the sacrifices made because of a repressive political situation by four Russian artists. Two of the artists stayed and endured the fallout that their works made them subject to; the third made compromises with the state; the fourth choose to leave his homeland to find artistic freedom elsewhere.  Each artist responded to the same political oppression in their own way.

Prior to his departure from the Soviet Union in 1980 violinist Gidon Kremer had mentioned to composer Sofia Gubaidulina the possibility of her writing a violin concerto for him.  Gubaidulina took that suggestion and using the strengths she heard and saw in his playing crafted Offertorium, a work for and dedicated to him.  There were many obstacles standing in the way of the work being performed by Kremer:  his decision to stay in the West had resulted in tensions with Moscow and the religious nature of Gubaidulina's works always meant that she was under criticism from and observation by the State for the inspiration she took from her faith.  Finally the piece was smuggled out of the Soviet Union to Kremer and he premiered it during Wiener Festwochen 1981with the ORF Symphony conducted by Leif Segerstam.  It was well received at its premier and subsequently Gubaidulina revised it in 1982 and 1986.  The last revised version - which we heard - have given both the composer and her works international prominence.

I felt very lucky when opening the programme to see that the performance notes for both the Offertorium and the Shostakovitch Thirteenth Symphony - Babi Jar were by my dear  David from I'll Think of Something Later.  As I have often remarked here David has been my guide in so many things since we became friends I was happy he was there to help me with the Gubaidulina.  First she is not a composer I am familiar with and second I don't always find "modern" composers are my cup of tea.  Though I am still unsure of where I stand on her work it was more than helpful to have David along, though I kept thinking it would be more fun if he were there in person.

Violinist Vadim Repin with the Mariinsky Orchestra and Valery Gergiev performing
Sofia Gubaidulina's Offertorium  - a complex and spiritual work.  Gubaidulina's story
is certainly one of Political Sacrifice. 

Though I may be ambivalent on the work itself there can be nothing but admiration for any violinist performing it.   Aside from the fact that it was written with a specific talent in mind - not in itself unusual  - it demands a level of virtuosity that is daunting for anyone approaching the work.  Vadim Repin met the challenge though ultimately it seemed to be more a display of that virtuosity than as the act of devotion I have a feeling the work calls for.  And again for Gergiev and his orchestra there can only be admiration as they wound there way through a score that is complex and so multi-layered.   For myself I think perhaps listening to one of those initial performances by Kremer may reveal more of the beauty in the piece than did this performance.

If I had trouble with Offertorium there was none with Shostakovitch's Babi Yar.  My love affair with Dmitri Shostakovitch began when the Ottawa ChamberFest scheduled a cycle of his complete string quartets with the Borodin Quartet several years ago.  Though I only heard one or two concerts I began to explore his music a bit further.  In Rome there were frequent opportunities to hear his Symphonies and his The Nose played in several theatres in Italy in the classic Moscow Chamber Musical Theatre production.  A performance by the Hagan Quartet of his String Quartet Number 8 at Salzburg's MozartWoche sealed the deal.

Again in his detailed notes David outlined the history of the Symphony.  How Shostakovitch read  Babiyy Yar Yevgeny Yevtushenko's commemoration and condemnation of the massacre and Russian antisemitism.   He asked the poet's permission to set it to music.  How amazed by the composer's setting the young poet gave him a collection of his poems and wrote one for him - Fears, a sardonic indictment of the Stalinist years... and after.  How the composer had encountered difficulties with the authorities and performers right up to the day of the premiere in December of 1962.  How in 1963 in response to "advise" Yevtushenko had expand his text of Babiyy Yar beyond the slaughter of Russian Jews to "embrace the sufferings of the Russian People", a compromise which shocked and grieved  Shostakovitch.  How the work work remained unplayed for five years on "official recommendation".

Conductor Valery Gergiev, Mikhail Petrenko, the Chorus and Orchestra of the Mariinsky accept
the more than appreciative ovation from the audience at the Felsenreitschule on the last day
of the 2013 Whistun Festival.

A "choral" symphony with bass soloist Shostakovitch set five of Yevtushenko's poems including "Fears" and the eponymous "Babiyy Yar".  Apparently the poet found Shostakovitch's choice of poems puzzling and could see no common theme but reading the poems (translations provided in the programme) it is easy to see what attracted the composer:  Babiyy Jar - the sufferings of Jews, not just in Russia; Humour - the role of humour in a repressed society; In the Store - the strength of women in times of trouble; Fears - the backward slap at being constantly watched; and Careers - sacrificing principles to the safety of a career.  Five facets of living in a totalitarian society.  (The full texts that Shostakovitch used are available here - this includes the original text of Babi Yar.

The orchestra and male chorus of the Mariinsky were in top form and Valery Gergiev brought out both the power and far subtler sardonic qualities in the music.   Bass Mikhail Petrenko seemed somewhat nervous - almost uncertain - in the first solo of Babi Yar but by the second - the memories of a young boy being kicked and beaten, the victim of a pogrom -  had reached his stride and brought an intense range of emotions to the remaining four movements.

I was particularly overwhelmed by the third movement:  In the Store.  It moves me more than the other movements as it paints a picture of the women of Russia lining up for whatever is in the store that day.  The text is bitter, admiring, sorrowful, loving, and angry and in his music Shostakovitch catches every nuance of Yevtushenko's words and expands them into an almost universal tragedy. Gergiev, Petrenko, the chorus and orchestra captured those moods eloquently.

It was an emotional high point of the Festival - on a par with the opening night Norma - as we were leaving the Felsenreitschule they were opening the roof to allow the air and sunlight in and it was like a release of emotion.   The intensity of the experience meant that the remaining two performances were somewhat overshadowed. 

More about the rest of the day will follow but in the meantime here are the same forces performing that third movement at a BBC Proms concert from 2006

All Salzburg Festival photos © Hans Jörg Michel E-Mail: h.j.michel@web.de

June 16 - 1903:  Helen Traubel the great American Wagnerian soprano and Nightclub entertainer (?) was born.

Salzburger Zeitung 2013 - Fourth Edition

Dateline:  May 26, 2013:

Allium ursinum (wild garlic) gets its Latin name due to the
fondness brown bears have for the bulbs of this spring green.
Its also a great favourite of wild boars.

One of the joys of being back in Europe - hmmm where do I start the list - is the food.   As I mentioned a few days ago it was spargal season in Germany and Austria but Spring is also the time of year for Wild Garlic or Bear's Garlic.  Many cafes and restaurants featured this woodland green on their spring menus in salads, dumplings, presto  and soups.   After my first taste at the hotel in Munich I tucked into variations of   the soup on three more occasions during this trip.  I would have loved to try the dumplings but I went off my gluten-free diet once or twice during the trip and paid the price.

There are as many variations of the soup recipe out there as there are cookbooks and blog writers and  most of them use a potato and stock base.  I'd like to try this in the next few days particularly as the weather is still on the chilly - if not downright cold - and a vibrant green bowl of fragrant soup is always good on days like this.  We do have a close relative of this flavourful plant here in Canada - the Allium tricoccum - which can be found in some markets this time of year.  There has been some controversy over its sale here in Ottawa as it is considered an endangered plant in Québec and poachers have been caught in the Gatineau Park.

Sunday May 19: FrühlingsOPFER
Grosses Festspielhaus: 1500

A design by Nicolas Roerich for the 1913
premiere of Le Sacre de Printemps.

As well as a time for new growth Spring has also been the time for sacrifice in many cultures and lands – the gods or more often simply the earth demanding an offering and in return giving a good harvest. It is a ritual almost as ancient as the human race.

 In 1913 Igor Stravinsky and Vaslav Nijinsky scandalized Paris with their Le sacre de printemps. The legends around what occurred at the Théatre des Champs-Èlysées on May 29 are many and as with all legends have been embroidered over time. Certainly there was a riot with much of the displeasure directed at Nijinsky, who had upset the dance aficionados a few weeks before with his ballet Jeux. But Stravinsky came in for his fair share of brickbats and boos – the orchestra had almost refused to play the score and probably what was heard that first evening had a roughness to it that has long since lost its edge as orchestras learned different techniques since that first performance.

Nijinsky's choreography – much of it apparently influenced by Dalcroze Eurhythmics  – has been long lost. Never repeated after its initial 10 performances (6 in Paris and 4 in London) and certainly never notated the only existing records are photographs, written descriptions and the memories of Marie Rambert who had assisted Nijinsky and danced in those first performances.  Given its unknown state I thought it was odd that the Mariinsky announced that the production (scenes above and below) they were bringing to Salzburg would give us the original decor, costumes and choreography! Certainly the colourful costumes and sets were based on the original designs by Nicolas Roerich, a well-regarded painter and an authority on Russian tribal dress.  But how close Millicent Hodson and Kenneth Archer's “reconstruction” comes to what that audience saw 100 years ago is questionable. Yes many of the poses match the still photographs taken at the time but as Laurent remarked a great deal of what passed for “choreography” seemed to be running around in circles. This is not to say that there were not moments of beauty though they tended to be more tableaux than movement.  Strangely the sacrificial dance of the Chosen One had minimal impact - I recall the first time I saw a version of Sacre with the Royal Ballet, Monica Mason imparted an almost fanatical hypnotic fatalism to this dance to the death.  Here Daria Pavlenko's collapse came out of nowhere and frankly had very little effect.

What made it more than just an interesting exercise in historical speculation was the playing of the Mariinksy Orchestra under Valery Gergiev. As I said for us Sacre will never have the raw savageness that so offended those earlier audiences but Gergiev brought an edge to it that caught much of the primitiveness at its core. If only the choreography and dancing had matched that high standard it would have been a remarkable dance event rather than just a curiosity.

Unfortunately that was to also be the case with the remaining two works: L'Oiseau de feu and Les Noces.  It was almost as if the Mariinksy had decided that since they were sending us Gergiev and the orchestra that a second string troupe of dancers would be acceptable.  Pavlenko was the only company Principal in the group with the rest of the casts being drawn from the Second Soloist and Corphyée ranks.

Prince Ivan (Alexander Romanchikov who danced the first performance) captures
the Firebird (Alexandra Josiefidi) in Michel Fokine's 1910 fairy tale ballet.

Visually L'Oiseau was colourful – again based on original designs from 1910 however with the curtain lowered for the transformation scene – but the dancing left much to be desired. Alexandra Josiefidi's Firebird lacked both grace and, well, fire. She remained essential earthbound at her entry and remained so for the rest of the ballet. Ivan Sitnikov's Prince lacked any sense of nobility – he was far better cast as the bridegroom in Les Noces.  And again there seemed to be much running around in circles from the corps during the scene with Kaschtschej and his hoards of demons.

Natalia Gontcharova's designs for
the friends of the Bridegroom.

Of the three I would have to say that Les Noces was the most successful and most interesting.  Though the programme listed the choreography as Bronislava Nijinka's original it is actually a version staged in 1981 by her daughter Irina for the Oakland Ballet.  The Mariinksy dancers were taught it by Oakland ballet master Howard Sayette  and it was introduced into their repertoire in  2003.  Thus we had Nijinka's dances twice removed and there has been some heated discussion in the ballet world as to how closely it followed her original concepts.  I have only vague recollections of a production at the Opéra in Paris back in the late 1980s so can't speak with any authority on the authenticity of the Kirov version.  There is also some debate about the Kirov dancers being able to assimilate a style of dancing that is foreign to their classical training. 

The ballet (scenes above and below) is a reenactment of a Russian village wedding - not a riotous celebration but a rigid social act performed for the good of family and community - the sacrifice of the bride if you will.   Stravinsky took folkloric wedding texts compiled in the 19th century by Pyotr Kireyevsky and with only four pianos and a large percussion battery created a choral ballet filled with the character and rhythms of Russian folk music.  Nijinska matched it with austere movements and patterns which despite their impersonal coldness take on a sense of the profound and become emotionally moving as the ballet progresses.  Natalia Gontcharova's simple brown and white costumes and stark sets highlight the impersonality of the ritual being enacted and  focused attention on the movements and patterns.

Though the male corps lacked a degree of control and seemed almost uncomfortable with the choreography  the female corps (as one expects of the Mariinsky) wove the  rectangles and pyramids with ritualistic discipline.  Maria Shevyakova brought a poignancy to her portrayal of the Bride - the unwilling pawn in the eternal game.  And for all his lack of nobility as the Prince in L'Oiseau Sitnikov brought exactly that quality to his Bridegroom.

Lest I make it sound like less than an afternoon well spent it did have many positives: the chance to see three important 20th century dances pieces; the opportunity to see productions that visually were inspired by the revolutionary original designs; and the opportunity to hear three of the seminal pieces of 20th century music played by one of the world's top orchestras conducted by one of today's great conductors.  Conceptually and musically it was an exceptional afternoon - if only the dancing had been on the same level it would have been a great one.


26 May - 1938: Soprano Teresa Stratas is born in Toronto.

Salzburger Zeitung 2013 - Third Edition

Dateline:  May 23, 2013:

After the Schiff concert on Saturday we headed to the Cafe Bazar for lunch.  It was sunny, warm and a long weekend so of course the terrace was full - not a table to be had.  Fortunately the terrace of the  Cafe Sacher is right next door - but, no surprise, the same held true there.  As we stood, no doubt looking a touch forlorn if not underfed, an older gentleman waved at us and motioned to the two empty chairs at his table.  I had forgotten that it is not unusual to share tables in Cafes here with total strangers - invasion of personal space being a very North American concern.  So we gratefully joined the gentleman and his wife at a table that was perfect - one seat in the sun for me, the other in the shade for Laurent.

This photo of Cafe Sacher is courtesy of TripAdvisor

We tucked into a pleasant lunch and soon found ourselves in conversation with Herr and Frau Schmid.  Both were born in small towns in the region, moved to Salzburg over 40 years ago and have travelled extensively throughout the world.  We chatted excitedly about the Norma, exchanged anecdotes about earlier Festivals and Herr Schmid shared one of those stories that proves the world is small and seems to get smaller every day.

When he was in his teens there were still American forces in the Salzburg area where he and his family lived.  His father was a pianist in a small dance band that played at their local gasthaus on weekends.  His uncle played, if I recall, the clarinet and Herr Schmid  would fill in on the accordion from time to time.  They kept up with all the latest hits from America and where popular with the service men.

Many years later while their son Benjamin was studying at the Curtis Institute Herr Schmid paid him a visit him in Philadelphia.  He had a suitcase that needed repaired and took it into a shop where - and given the ease with which we entered into conversation I can believe this - he soon got into a lively conversation with the shop owner.  The usual pleasantries were exchanged - where are you from etc.  When he heard the name of Herr Schmid's home town he looked surprised.  The owner had serviced near there in the early 1950s and had fond memories of Saturday night dances when he and his buddies were allowed out on leave passes.  He then pointed to a photo on the wall behind his counter - there was a young GI learning against a piano, cigarette suspended from his lips, Herr Schmid's father at the piano, his uncle standing clarinet in hand and seated between them a young man playing the accordion.  There in a shop 5000 miles from home he had found a memory of his youth.  The world is indeed small.

Sunday May 19:  Biblesches Opfer
Grosser Saal - Mozarteum: 1100

To the best of my knowledge none of Jommelli's
90-odd operas have ever graced the stage of the
Palais Garnier but his person is represented on
the facade. Perhaps it is meant to commemorate
the reforms he brought to opera of the period.

Though I had heard of Nicolò Jommelli he was largely a name from the music history books; during the mid-1700s he was a composer of great renown in Northern Italy, Rome and at the court in Stuttgart before returning to his native Napoli. During the Muti years at the Whitsun Festival the maestro had featured two of Jommelli's works: Demofoonte, one of his opera seria and La Betulia liberata, perhaps his best known oratorio. In both cases, after hearing the works, I questioned the need for revival. True the opera had several fascinating passages of accompanied recitative and a trio that with some originality morphed into a duet, however I admit to remembering almost nothing about the oratorio.

Looking back to the baroque roots of the Festival and, perhaps even to the Muti years, another Jommelli oratorio had been programmed for this year: Isacco figura di Redentore. The Old Testament story of Abraham and Issac is the first great sacrifice myth of Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition and in this version by the great Pietro Metastasio is linked with the sacrifice of Christ in the purely Christian tradition. Each time I hear a work with a libretto by the prolific Italian I am struck by the beauty of his language and his sense of drama. In the style of the Greeks much of the action takes place off stage and then is narrated in language both vivid and poetic by the participants. The description of the death of Holoferness by Judith in Betulia liberata is truly one of the most horrifying descriptions of a murder written in any language. Strangely four years after the fact I still recall Alisa Kolosova in Mozart's setting of those words – but of the Jommelli from the same year I recall nothing.

On Saturday I was struck not by the arias – as fine as examples as they were of the AABAA format – but by the recitative including passages of accompanied recitative that built to dramatic climaxes. I grew up listening to opera when recitatives were delivered to the plucking of a harpsichord at a rattling pace – for god's sake let's get this over with – by singers who's command of the language was often just phonetic parroting.  Or often  those bothersome recitatives would be cut to the bare bones and the opera almost became nothing more than a live "greatest hits" compilation.   One of the joys of this past weekend was hearing, both in the Norma and the Isacco, recitatives being used  as they were intended – to drive the story along and give the works their dramatic form.

The Angel of the Lord (Nuria Rial) brings the Lord's message
of redemption through Abramo's willingness to sacrifice his son
At times Fasolis seemed to be singing along with the soloists.

Diego Fasolis and his ensemble did indeed bring a sense of drama to the events unfolding that made it more than pretty period music. Unfortunately the mood was frequently broken by the singers acknowledging the applause – particularly Franco Fagioli, a good counter tenor, who's stage mannerisms are excessive even for a HIP performer. Roberta Invernizzi has made a remarkable career as a singer of baroque music but her's has never been one of those cool, sexless period voices - her Sara was a woman of fire, passion and devotion. The accompanied recitative and aria that began the second part spoke of Sara's anguish, anger and deep love for her family and her God and Invernizzi  poured all of that into her performance. Bass Carlo Lepore was an effective Gamari, the faithful servant and Nuria Rial delivered the Angel's messages of horror and redemption with silvery purity – as with all the singers their use of the language was exceptional.

Roberta Invernizzi and Javier Camarena as
Abramo and his wife Sara ponder the wishes
of a God who has given them a son in their
old age only to demand he be sacrificed.

The young Mexican tenor Javier Camarena delivered an impassioned Abraham – confused by his God's unfeeling command, eventually bending to his will and finally rejoicing in his compassion. The final accompanied recitative and arrioso, where Metastasio links God's sacrifice of his son to the Abrahamic story, was delivered simply and with stunning clarity.

Of Fagioli I am of two minds: his countertenor is sweet, even and with only a slight break as he dips into the mezzo range but his stage manner is affected to the extreme. As with the other singers his Issaco was delivered with conviction and a sense of drama but I found myself closing my eyes so as not to be distracted by the contortions taking place on stage.

I Barocchisti are not one of those twee early music ensembles that play pretty music – they have real “fire in the belly”. And Fasolis is not a conductor to linger – he moved the piece along giving it both pace and grace. From my vantage point I was able to watch the work of the horn and trumpet players – I am always astounded by the sounds they are able to produce on valveless instruments. It also makes me wonder why French horn sections of many orchestras – particularly Italian ensembles – with their modern instruments seem to have so many problems.

Diego Fasolis, the soloists, I Barocchisti and Coro della Radiotelevisione Svizzera take their bows
at the end of Saturday morning's matinee of Jommelli's Isacco figura di Redentore.

I have now heard three of Jommelli's works – all three at Salzburg and all three in remarkable performances by remarkable performers. I do hope fans of early music fans will forgive me for misquoting Mr Bennet but:  thank you Signor Jommelli, you have contrived to delight me quite enough.

Sidebar:  We met Javier Camarena and his family at the hotel after the performance and congratulated him on his performance. We chatted briefly about this being his first “baroque” role and how coming from largely a bel canto repertoire he enjoyed the challenge and the importance of the recitatives. I was pleased to see that he will be returning next year on slightly more familiar ground as Don Ramiro in La Cenerentola.

All performance photographs are courtesy of the Salzburg Festival © Hans Jörg Michel

May 23 - 1829: Accordion patent granted to Cyrill Demian in Vienna.

Salzburger Zeitung - 2013 - Second Edition

Dateline:  May 20, 2013:

I first saw this skyline when I was 19 years old - in the intervening 47 years
this view has never ceased to give me a small thrill of satisfaction.

Well its been a busy few days since we arrived in Salzburg. Fortunately we arrived a day early and settled into our usual room at the Hotel Bristol - the Tuscany. There had been a few changes in decor but it was still the same comfortable room we had enjoyed on our previous stay.  And though there have been some changes at the Bristol there is much that is familiar: Herr Lackner is still the gracious host, Peter is still overseeing the restaurant and bar,  Florian is doing his usual wonderful job as concierge, the ladies in the breakfast room are welcoming and Gabor has our table in the corner of the Sketch Bar prepared and waiting after the performance.  I guess I'm just turning into an old fart who loves the comfortable and the familiar.

Our home away from home at the Hotel Bristol in Salzburg - the Tuscany.
And returning to the Bristol is like coming home.

It has also been good to see old friends like Dr. M. from Toronto at his usual table and people we recognize from other years and now exchange hellos with at the Mozarteum and Haus für Mozart.  And this year some new acquaintances have been made - the Schmids a wonderful couple from Salzburg who motioned us to join them on the terrace of the Cafe Sacher at lunchtime on a busy Whitsun Saturday.  Their son Benjamin Schmid is a well-known violinist and they regaled us with stories of their travels and his path to a career as a musician.  And just this evening we met a lovely couple from England who have suddenly discovered opera and are indulging their passion for travel and music in their leisure years.

Sidd and another distinguished guest of the Hotel Bristol.

The main topic of conversation amongst us has been the centre piece of this year's Festival _ Bellini's Norma with Cecilia Bartoli.  We were all in agreement - it was of a piece musically and dramatically and one of the most moving and riveting evenings spent at an opera in a long time.  It is an evening I am going to have to take my time and write about with some thought.

Saturday 18:  Musikalisches Opfer
Grosser Saal - Mozarteum: 1100

I've always loved the gold and white, slightly over-the-top Grosser Saal of the Mozarteum.
At times the seats may be a trifle uncomfortable and the room a bit overheated but the acoustics are remarkable. 

It is often possible to be in awe of the artistry and ability of both a composer and a performer but to find them emotional unmoving: I'm afraid that is how I feel about both Bach and András Schiff.  Bach is undoubtedly one of the greats of Western music and I would be a fool for thinking otherwise but as much as I can listen in admiration I find that I can't become involved with his works. I've tried – lord knows I've tried but it just doesn't happen – and emotional response to music can't be forced.

With Schiff I find much the same – he is one of the great pianists of our time and I would be a fool for thinking otherwise and on Saturday morning I sat in awe of what he accomplished in a programme of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven. But I was left largely unmoved at the end of the programme. With the Festival theme of Sacrifice in mind he had chosen pieces in the Key of C minor.  According to the notes this is the key that has always been associated with lamantation - Johann Joachim Quantz, the flute teacher of Frederick the Great said that it is used for "the miserable affect".  Though he did admit that it could be used to  express "the affect of love, tenderness, flattery".  But also it could be used to express "an angry emotion, such as recklessness, rage and dispair".  Quite the choice there!

Another view of the beautiful Grosser Saal - one of my favourite concert venues.

So perhaps it is pushing the envelope a bit to maintain that Bach sacrificed to his art when he took it upon himself to meet Frederick the Great's challenge to create a six part improvisation on a theme the King had set out during Bach's visit to his court in 1747.   That theme from Musikalischen Opfer BWV1080 was to show up again at Monday morning's concert by the Mariinsky Orchestra in Sofia Gubaidulina's Offertorium.

Schiff's Bach was slow, reverential and frankly dull. A friend remarked in passing that listening to Schiff play Bach extended your life time by a third – I'm not sure how true that is but I certainly found the Ricercare a 6 more fascinating when Angela Hewitt played it a few months ago as part of her programme at the NAC.  With Schiff it had all the excitement of an exercise with Hewitt it had a sense of passion and commitment.

András Schiff accepts the applause of an appreciative audience at
sold out concert at this year's Whitsun Festival.

Schiff's Mozart is seen through his closeness to the Romantic rather than the Baroque and though again the artistry is impeccable only the Adagio of the Klaviersonate c-Moll KV 457 seemed to take wing.   Not so the Beethoveen Sonata op. 111. Here Schiff seemed to come into his own and the music had an emotional bite to it that made me aware that I was listening to a great pianist. There was real communication here and in the short Schumann piece he gave as an encore.  I only wish he had caught that fire a bit earlier.

Perhaps after the Italianate passion of the previous evening anything would seem a bit cool, perhaps even passionless but I had honestly hope for a bit more excitement from Schiff. What we got was an amazing display of artistry if not of heart.


22 May - 1813:  Richard Wagner is born in Leipzig.