Has anyone seen my dream aria?

It's amazing what we do behind our own backs. The subconscious is a peculiar and fascinating phenomenon. But I don't know what Doctors Freud or Jung would have made of the great aria I dreamed last night. It was extremely beautiful, but unfortunately it doesn't exist - at least not as far as I know.

It is a grand romantic aria, for tenor. It's in French, with dusky orchestration involving lots of cellos and harp, somewhat a la Werther - indeed, the closest match of composer I could come up with was Massenet, though in the Land of Nod it sounded rather better than most of his work. It's not wholly unlike 'Pourquoi me reveiller?', but it's longer, more inventive, less strophic, wider ranging. It's a passionate appeal by the opera's hero - for presumably this non-existent aria comes from a non-existent opera - to someone who presumably is the heroine or anti-heroine, pleading with her to leave whatever/whoever it may be that's making them all miserable. It ends with the desperate words: "Ah, quittez-la, quittez-la!"

Then I woke up and realised I'd overslept and missed Joseph Calleja in both the Verdi Requiem last night  (I'm slightly allergic to the piece, but let's not digress) and on BBC Breakfast this morning. Maybe Dr Jung would say that has something to do with it.

Has anyone seen my dream aria? If there is any way of identifying or recapturing it, I'd love to know.

Top five reasons to love Amy Winehouse (1983-2011)

1. Amy was a real artist, despite hitting the big-time during an age of what can politely be called artifice.

2. She had a tremendous voice that possessed character, power and huge individuality.

3. Her songs were honest, often heartbreakingly so. That's why they spoke so strongly.

4. "They tried to make her go to rehab, but she said no, no, no..." She said "No" to the world for the sake of staying true to herself. Even if that means, as it appears to, that that's what ultimately destroyed her.

5. We're too used to stories like hers. She was far too young to die and had far too much still to offer.

A swan for Norway, from Grieg

We're all in shock about the horrific attacks in Norway, an act of mad, senseless and fascistic terror perpetrated against a city centre and a youth camp apparently by a right-wing extremist. Here's a swan to carry the heartfelt thoughts and solidarity of the UK to our friends across the North Sea. The song 'En Svan' is of course by Grieg and the soprano is Karita Mattila.

Kremer versus...?

Do have a look at this astonishing post on Norman Lebrecht's blog in which he publishes, at Gidon Kremer's request, the letter that the great violinist sent to the head of the Verbier Festival explaining why he has pulled out of it. 

"...I simply do not want to breath the air, which is filled by sensationalism and distorted values.  Lets’ admit – all of us have something to do with the poisonous development of our music world, in which “stars” count more than creativity, ratings more than genuine talent, numbers more than…. sounds..."

Oof. The festival's composer-in-residence, Lera Auerbach, has written an eloquent response which Norman has also popped up:

"...The show must go on even when the walls around are falling down, because this is part of being an artist – accepting the  imperfections of the world around and transcending the reality, transcending the gravity, creating regardless of circumstances and above all – sharing the gift of music..."

Kremer's letter is interesting on many counts. There's a message that I sense seeping through between his words. I accept, of course, that there could be other interpretations, but I'm still seeing the same one after a few days of following the story. Is it possible that this revered violinist is objecting to the possibility that some of the more image-focused younger artists might, in his view, use this starry festival to further their careers by "name-dropping" the great artists they've worked with there, when he feels that their talent doesn't merit it, when in his opinion they are perhaps more about glamour and "sex appeal" than genuine musicianship that "serves" the cause of great music?

I've taken a peek at some of the young artists appearing at this year's Verbier, because in my experience - and I've been there frequently - Verbier doesn't usually take just anyone. Here are some videos of three of Verbier 2011's "rising stars".

Khatia Buniatishvili: Liszt Liebestraum No.3. You know Khatia if you read JDCMB regularly - she's featured several times this year. She is 23, is a BBC New Generation Artist and is making her Proms debut this summer.



Jan Lisiecki: Chopin Waltz in C sharp minor, performed at Chopin's birthplace. Jan, from Canada, won the Manchester Piano Competition a few years ago when he was only 12 or 13 - I was there and heard his winning performance, an exceptionally beautiful and well-calibrated performance of a Chopin concerto. Now DG has signed him up and it won't be long before his debut disc comes out.



And now, meet violinist David Garrett. Plus, here's his website.



OK, that was a bit naughty... though I think it must have brightened up people's lunchtime in the Big Apple. Here he is again, playing in Verbier just the other day: an extract from the Beethoven Violin Concerto, conducted by Gabor.



Just for a little comparison in terms of style, approach, technique, etc, here is Kremer himself (audio only) playing Schnittke's cadenza for the Beethoven Violin Concerto.



I am drawing no conclusions whatsoever, naturally...

Friday Historical: Galina Ulanova & Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet

This film of the great Russian ballerina Galina Ulanova, dancing with Mikhail Gabovich, was made in 1951 and it's the bedroom pas de deux from Romeo and Juliet. It's fascinating on several counts: Ulanova herself, profoundly expressive and tender; the choreography by Leonid Lavrovsky, which is not often seen in the UK; and, not least, the tempi, phrasing and pacing of the music, which is exceptionally flexible, songful and highly characterised. The score was written just 16 years earlier in 1935 and revised in 1940; and when this extract was filmed, Prokofiev was still very much alive. Unfortunately the conductor and orchestra are uncredited here, but it's probably reasonable to assume that it is the Kirov. Enjoy.