CD Reviews - April 2021

Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951) originally composed Verklärte Nacht (‘Transfigured Night’) for string sextet, but he later orchestrated the work, and it has become one of his most performed works.  Unlike his later music, it is tonal, although highly chromatic, with a late Romantic stamp, and a strong Wagnerian flavour. The poem by Dehmel which inspired the work is about a woman who walks with her lover in a moonlit forest, and confesses she is pregnant by another man.  Her lover ultimately forgives her, and the intensity of their love and the beauty of the moonlight brings them together.  On this latest recording, Edward Gardner and the BBC Symphony Orchestra have cleverly explored some lesser-known works from the same period, notably Oskar Fried’s (1871-1941) setting of Verklärte Nacht, Op. 9, for mezzo-soprano, tenor and orchestra (with Christine Rice and Stuart Skelton the soloists here). Fried’s setting is lush and atmospheric, with warm narrative duets contrasting with more emotionally charged solos from both characters. Rice and Skelton are beautifully matched, and Skelton shimmers at the top of his range on ‘Glanz’ (glow). It is perhaps a little more obvious than Schoenberg’s intense instrumental interpretation, which here receives a wonderfully mysterious and atmospheric reading, contrasting the full weight of strings at the climactic moment, with an incredibly light touch for the lilting night music and glassy solos. The disc begins with another surprise – Fieber (Fever) by Franz Lehár (1870-1948), for tenor and orchestra. This is a highly episodic piece – perhaps understandable when expressing the delirium of an injured soldier in hospital, flitting between calling for the nurse, thinking of his girlfriend, remembering battle and even an image of his mother, before finally succumbing to death. Skelton is bold and emphatic, yet also captures the sense of confusion and anguish here. We get fragments of romantic waltzes, and even a snippet of the Radetzky March, all lusciously orchestrated. Skelton returns in the four Lieder des Abschieds, Op. 14 (Songs of Farewell) by Erich Korngold (1897-1957). Full of yearning, with texts including ‘Sterbelied’ (Upon Dying), a German translation of a Christina Rossetti poem, the songs employ frequent yearning vocal leaps, and Skelton’s placing is impeccably tender. The second song is more urgent and dramatic, whilst the third and fourth have more of a gentle rocking feel. Korngold’s orchestration is rich and sumptuous, and here as throughout, Gardner and the BBCSO are on top form.  

Various, 2021. Verklärte Nacht: Schoenberg, Fried, Lehar, Korngold. Christine Rice, Stuart Skelton, BBC Symphony Orchestra, Edward Gardner. Hybrid Super Audio Compact Disc. Chandos. CHSA 5243.

Greek-born pianist Alexandra Papastefanou studied in Moscow, Budapest and the US, and has had lesson from Alfred Brendel. She has performed all of Bach’s keyboard works, and to date, her recordings have also focussed on Bach, as well as her own compositions. Now she turns to Robert Schumann (1810-1856), and in a two disc set, she covers all the works for piano written in 1839. The following year, 1940, is known as his ‘Year of Song’, in which he wrote over 160 vocal works, including 135 solo songs. It was also the year he finally married Clara, after the extended and embittered battles with her father. Whilst not as prolific a year, 1839 did generate a considerable number of works for the piano, and in many ways, they reflect the turbulent time of that year before he was finally able to marry the love of his life. Papastefanou has coined the term ‘Year of Piano’ for her survey of this output. Papastefanou plays with clarity and avoids overindulgence in the more romantic, expressive passages. So the Humoreske, Op. 20 is suitably boisterous and playful to begin with, yet the stuttering rhythms of the second section have a subtle unease, followed by darker, expressive then tender and lilting third and fourth sections. Schumann said when writing this ‘I have been sitting at the piano, composing and writing, laughing and crying all at once’, and there are certainly a lot of moods to capture here. The same might be said of the 4 Nachstücke, Op. 23, with a slightly pacy, agitated funeral procession, and swirling, darkly turbulent night revelry. Papastefanou takes some freedom with the tempi in the Arabeske, Op. 18, yet could perhaps take a little more time in the expressive recitative-like moments, but the rippling repeating rhythms have a real flow. The Faschingsschwank aus Wien, Op. 26 (Carnival Jest from Vienna), is fascinating, with its embedded reference to the Marseillaise, at that time banned in Vienna, and lively dances, rippling textures and central sad Romanze. Again, Schumann’s moods change from moment to moment, yet Papastefanou makes sense of these transitions, making coherent sense of the contrasts. The 3 Romanzen, Op. 28 are darker than one might expect from the title, and a sense of anxiety pervades. The middle Romanze has moments of calm, but the third is jumpy and mercurial. There are a number of shorter pieces filling out this two disc collection, some part of larger collections published later, but here for the year of their composition. They merit their inclusion, however, and the dark smouldering Praeludium from Bunte Blätter, Op. 99 and the delicately dancing Phantasiestück from Albumblätter, Op. 124 are given sensitive readings here. A fascinating collection of lesser-performed works here, and Papastefanou performs throughout with virtuosic command and sensitivity to the constantly changing moods. 

Schumann, R. 2021. Schumann 1839: Year of Piano. Alexandra Papastefanou. Compact Discs (2). First Hand Records. FHR 112.

(Edited versions of these reviews first appeared in Scene, April 2021)

A fitting birthday tribute to Mozart from Collins and friends

© Benjamin Ealovega

Michael Collins (clarinet, director)

Christine Rice (mezzo-soprano)
London Winds
City of London Sinfonia

Mozart: Serenade no. 10 in B flat major for Winds, 'Gran Partita', K361 (K370a)
Mozart: La clemenza di Tito, K621, 'Parto, ma tu ben mio' 
Mozart: Clarinet Concerto in A, K622

Wigmore Hall
Wednesday 27 January 2016

'A lively and incisive performance from the London Winds, with great ensemble and clear communication between players'.

'This was chamber music making at its best'.

'Christine Rice’s warm voice blended wonderfully with Collins’ smooth tone'.

'The bravura finish from Collins brought the birthday celebrations to a suitably joyful conclusion'.

Read my full review on Backtrack here.

Verdi's Rigoletto at the cinema

Photo: Johan Persson

As part of the Royal Opera House's continued series of cinema screenings, the latest on offer was a live transmission of Verdi's Rigoletto, and I went along to the Duke of York's cinema in Brighton to see it. There was a decent sized audience and quite a buzzing atmosphere, which gave an air of expectancy to proceedings. Before the opera, we were given a short behind the scenes documentary, and a synopsis from Tony Pappano. 


The opera began, and we quickly realised that there were no subtitles showing. I believe this was a problem in only some cinemas (the transmission was broadcast to 700 plus cinemas around the world). Not knowing Rigoletto at all well, my initial thoughts were that this would be a real problem. However, I actually found that it didn't get in the way of following the action at all - a testament to the acting performances, perhaps. I am sure that some of the subtleties of the libretto were lost on me, and it would definitely have been a different experience with the subtitles. But the removal of any distraction from the visual and aural experience actually made for greater immediacy and immersion in the emotions of the story. I am sure that there were some that were disappointed or unhappy about the lack of subtitles, but I have to say it certainly didn't spoil my enjoyment. 


Now to the performance. The atmosphere from curtain up was dark, decadent and sumptuous - the deep reds and browns are straight out of a Caravaggio painting.  The chorus delight in the debauchery, and we are treated to some full-fronted nudity - male and female - well this is a David McVicar production!  The darkness is carried right through the opera - the central set is consistently dark grey and brown, and virtually the only colour is deep red, perhaps prefiguring the bloody final scenes.

Photo: Alastair Muir

Dimitri Platanias as Rigoletto was captivating, and stole the show for me.  The role is a huge sing, and he maintained a commanding level of intensity, not even letting go in the curtain calls.  Vittorio Grigolo played the Duke as a lively, unstoppable rogue, with physical and vocal athleticism throughout, clearly enjoying the role.  Ekaterina Siurina as Gilda was convincing, showing great tenderness, and her cadenza duet with Grigolo was a masterclass in vocal control.  Christine Rice made the most of the relatively small role of Maddalena, and Matthew Rose was menacingly secure in the role of the assassin, Sparafucile.  Gianfranco Montresor as Monterone, who curses Rigoletto at the start of the opera for mocking him over the rape of his daughter (the aforementioned nudity), was perhaps less authoritative than he could be, but otherwise solid in the role.  I was particularly impressed by the acting throughout, including that of the chorus members.  One of the differences that a cinema screening brings is in the use of close-ups, and this can be quite testing for the less proficient opera actors, but not here. 


Conductor John Eliot Gardiner elicited precise yet rich playing from the orchestra in perhaps unexpected territory for the early music specialist.  In all, this is a great production, with some stunning performances - a great way to experience opera, and at a fraction of the usual price! 
  
Other reviews:
GScene
The Telegraph
The Independent
The Arts Desk
Bachtrack