Carmen reviews

The Glyndebourne Carmen seems to have gone over better than I thought it would. Here are a few responses from the press:

The Independent: "This is an evening where Carmen improvises her castanet rhythms on Don José's body. If you don't believe me, start phoning for returns."

The Times: "Too often, these days, Carmens are pale, thin, complicated girls: more at home, one feels, in the Bodleian Library than a Seville fag factory. So it’s fun to find one with the hair of Shirley Bassey, the figure of Barbara Windsor, the strut of Tina Turner and the freneticism of a go-go dancer paid by the wiggle."

The Guardian: "This production, first seen at Glyndebourne in 2002 with Anne Sofie von Otter in the title role, still awaits principals who can make the most of what it has to offer."

Here's my £0.025p on the subject.

Tania Kroll as Carmen? A sizeable, jolly, smiley, girl-next-door type at first view - why do all these men go for her rather than most of the rest of the chorus? Well, she's a terrific actress - that helps. She has a good, musical, intelligent voice with fine diction - unremarkable and no way sensual enough, but she puts other aspects of the character first. She is fabulous - the best one yet in this third-time production - at putting across Carmen the Gypsy: the outsider, the free-thinker, keeping herself slightly to herself at the edge of the proceedings, going her own way no matter what. By the end, she was devastating.

Brandon Jovanovich as Don Jose? Problem: the last one I saw was Kaufmann at Covent Garden. But Jovanovich is as hefty a fellow as this Carmen needs, and comes across as a jolly dangerous bloke with one mighty whopper of a big voice. I know it's dangerous to start talking about eating hats, but this guy should probably be Siegfried. We will certainly be hearing more of him. But could someone please give him some French coaching, PDQ?

Kate Royal as Micaela? That was the one really great performance I mentioned the other day. Some of my colleagues said they found her difficult to warm to - but that's the nature of Micaela, that's why Jose gets seduced by a sexpot, because Micaela is not one. There was a sense of true terror behind her aria in the mist, and she seemed to inhabit character and voice to perfection.

Oh, and Escamillo? Forgot about him. Perhaps they wanted him to come across as a D-list fading celebrity ripe for conscription to the worst of Big Brother or that thing in the jungle, but...

The biggest surprise in the write-ups is the universally positive response to the conducting. Yes, the orchestra sounds good - it always does these days. But Deneve (who looks uncannily like a cross between James Levine and Marge Simpson) takes tempi that are often on the leisurely side and compared to the fizz that Philippe Jourdain brought the original run with von Otter, this version definitely left the best bubbles for the interval champagne. Carmen is a long evening, but if it's well done it doesn't feel it. This one did. Very.

Bravo Taraf

At The Spectator blogs, Clive Davis picks up on the Roby Lakatos video I posted the other day, but also quotes a piece about the Roma in Italy from The Times, which rather typifies the skewed light on minority communities that the media likes to use to gain sales. I was objecting to a lot more than fingerprinting, as the piece we quoted from The Independent made clear. Because the situation is a lot more dangerous than that.

As a follow-up, here is a powerful piece of writing by Romanian author Mircea Cartarescu.

And above, an extract from Tony Gatliff's film Latcho Drom about the Romanian Roma band Taraf de Haidouks (we saw them at the Barbican in June last year). World-music expert Ben Mandelson and I get to be their curtain-raiser at the Cheltenham Music Festival on Saturday week, 19 July, which is an honour.

Mamma Mia!

And if you think the cello story is good, just try this one, from Indy on Sunday - scandalissimo indeed! Puccini will never be the same again...

"It was Puccini's pursuit of women that created the great crisis in his life. This is a tale of infidelity, jealousy, vengeance and despair. It goes a long way towards explaining the composer's fallow period. Its repercussions are still being felt on the lakeside today."

The story of Mrs C...

This adorable story about Piatigorsky comes, rather unexpectedly, from the inimitable Robert Fisk, who devoted his Saturday column in the Indy to certain gems of information provided by his readers.

'...there arrives another letter from Ms Somervil-Ayrton, remembering how I once sat next to the late Mstislav Rostropovich en route to Beirut with what he called his "wife" – his sacred cello – on the seat beside him. Did I know, asks Ms S-A, the airline story about Piatigorsky, "who had the reputation Rostropovich has now"? I fumble for my massive, 2,239-page edition of the Norwegian K B Sandved's The World of Music, a weighty heart attack of a book wherein, on page 1622, I find "Gregor Piatigorsky, Russian-American cellist, born 1903". He began life by playing at his local cinema, but at 14 was engaged by the Imperial Opera in Moscow. At the revolution, smugglers got him out of Russia, leaving him stripped and penniless in Poland but he became first cellist in the Berlin Philharmonic and toured the US in 1929 where Samuel Chotzinoff wrote that in his hands "the cello loses its limitations, his playing is as light and brilliant as if he were playing a violin".

Now back to Ms S-A who writes how Piatigorsky "was shopping around for an airline that would carry his cello free of charge – as he was sick of all the hassle and expense ... he managed to find one – 'Of course, Mr. Piatigorsky – of course' – and went on the appointed day to pick up his tickets. To his surprise, they proudly presented one for himself and one in the name of Miss Cello Piatigorsky. I think he had to pay anyway...".'

Here comes Carmen...

Carmen opens at Glyndebourne today, so here's a taster of the production, a David McVicar classic - gritty, powerful and very real. If you're going this year, you'll see a totally different cast from this, which dates from 2002 and features von Otter as Carmen. I couldn't find any Youtube video of the glorious costumes for the toreador procession in the last act, which were apparently sourced from the real McCoy in Seville, but the whole thing is available on DVD.

Having attended the dress rehearsal, I'm not yet at liberty to give detailed views (why-oh-why didn't I take a pseudonym while I could?!) but let's just say this: there's one really great performance plus a couple of surprises; the dramatic side is fabulous; and at times you may feel the need for caffeine. More about it soon...

Calling Townsville...

I should have been sunning myself on the beach or the Great Barrier Reef today, because tomorrow A Walk Through the End of Time has its English language premiere...on the other side of the world, at the Australian Festival of Chamber Music in Townsville, Far North Queensland. The Tropic Sun Theatre Company is performing it in an atmospheric church, so I'm told, the Fibonacci Sequence will play the Messiaen Quartet and the event is apparently sold out. I'll look forward to a full report from down under afterwards...

A tender memory of my late sister, Claire, who once summed up her experience of holidaying in Queensland and the GBR as 'Watch 'em by day, eat 'em by night'. (Fish. The best.)

That dress was little?

After all the fuss about the Little Black Dress in Ariadne auf Naxos, I have to report that said dress is a long-sleeved, ankle-length, opaque and voluminous gown. Flatteringly cut for best cleavage effect, but still not precisely 'little'.

Apart from that, the opera, which we saw last night, was a marvel from start to finish. It was the last performance in the run - sorry, but it was the only one for which hubby was free (some of us get in trouble if we go to operas by his great-granddad's cards buddy without him). Deborah Voigt's natural radiance and beauty shone out; and when she lets rip on those top notes Covent Garden floats several hundred metres into the air; if she sounded a tad less secure in the lower registers, frankly I am not complaining. (She wasn't matched by her tenor, not remotely, and frankly I am complaining about that...see Tosca comments, back to front as it were).

The rest of the cast was a knockout. Gillian Keith as Zerbinetta, a cross between Twiggy and the Queen of the Night, cast a silvery legato that wouldn't have disgraced an ondes martenot; every last decoration proved an expression of her daffy and vulnerable character. Thomas Allen made the very most of the Music Master, suggesting unspoken hidden depths to the personality as well as out-tenoring the tenor; best of all, to my ears, was the mezzo Kristine Jepson as The Composer, her flights of fantasy a source of magic to the Act 1 ragbag of characters, but her voice a revelation to those of us out front, a soaring, creamy Straussian that we'll run back to hear anytime we can. Oktavian, please! Special applause to luscious solo violin Vassko Vassiliev and SIR Mark Elder down t'pit. (Yes, Mark Elder got a knighthood. No, Vernon Handley didn't...)

A couple of passing thoughts. First, Hoffmansthal's letter to Strauss that is quoted in the programme should cause some raised eyebrows today - all that stuff about 'high' and 'low' understanding and how the two performing troupes are so far apart in this respect that they'll never understand each other; reading it, one feels he holds Zerbinetta and co in some contempt. Yet the opera comes across with wit, sympathy and tenderness to all, each side's viewpoint beautifully balancing the other and sparking perfect ironies. Intriguing.

Secondly, when Korngold wrote the final duet of Heliane, it would seem he was actually trying to write the final duet of Ariadne. He must have identified with Act I of this opera like the blazes, and he'd have been an impressionable teenage prodigy when it first appeared. He threw the line about preferring to throw his work into the fire at Strauss himself once - it won his battle, whatever it was (there were many). There you go.

The Tomcat is justifiably proud of his great-granddad's pal. In this household, one can't help remembering the family legend about the time they all went out to dinner in Bavaria and Mrs Strauss threw a tantrum when her choice of main course was not available and the waiter offered her an alternative of char (in German, Saibling, a kind of trout): "I don't want that bloody fish!" she shouted.

Solved? Yeah?

The Indy today has one of those articles that pop up from time to time claiming to have solved the mystery of why Strads are the best.

Leaving aside the claims of Mr Guarneri del Gesu, one of the most gorgeous violin sounds I've encountered recently came from Christian Tetzlaff, whose tone in the Brahms concerto brought tears to the eyes simply by existing. Strad schmad, he plays a modern violin made by Peter Greiner in Germany.

It ain't what you've got, etc etc. Views, folks?

Summertime

Summertime, and the blogging is easy...It's 1 July, the new manuscript has been delivered, the sky is blue, and here is Jascha Heifetz. Enjoy.

A plea

Pliable at the Overgrown Path has a powerful and moving post about the current horrific plight of the Roma in Italy, in which he also describes the origins of Bartok's Romanian Dances and links to this article from yesterday's Independent. Here in the midst of happily multicultural London, it's horrifying to think that such inhumanity is taking place so nearby.

Not that we have a leg to stand on. Less than a decade ago there was an influx in London of Roma from eastern Europe - Slovakia or Romania, I think - who were seeking to escape the persecution and discrimination they'd been experiencing there. They used to beg on the Underground and elsewhere and the tabloid press laid into them with full complement of teeth and claws. After a year or so, they vanished. Presumably they were deported - back to the persecution that will always do its utmost to prevent them from escaping their deprived situation.

Here is a history of the Roma from the Patrin Web Journal.

Whatever happened to that old-fashioned notion that human beings have human rights? Hungarian Dances, which features a Hungarian Roma-descended heroine, has been contracted by publishers in Hungary and Romania as an anti-racist novel, but I wish it could have proved less timely.

As a tribute to the musical achievements of the Roma, here is the astonishing Roby Lakatos playing Hejre Kati, one of the most famous Gypsy melodies that dates back to the legendary violinist Janos Bihari, of whom Lakatos is a descendant.

Die Meistersinger von London, aka...

...the Worshipful Company of Musicians, which rather remarkably invited me to their gala Midsummer Banquet last night and asked me to make a speech on behalf of the guests.

For the benefit of our friends overseas, I should explain that the City of London's Livery Companies date back to the 15th century if not earlier, and were a form of early trade union. The musicians' organisation started off as a Fellowship of Minstrels (read about its history here). These Companies still exist and range through everything from Stonemasons to Water Conservators; each has its own tradition of medieval pageantry and ritual, and you kind of have to be there to believe it's true.

The evening was held in Stationers' Hall - an exquisite building tucked away behind St Paul's Cathedral, rebuilt in the 1680s after the Great Fire. It was an astonishing affair - like something straight out of Die Meistersinger, complete with ceremonial robes, a fanfare to play us all in, a sung Grace, extremely good food and a Ceremony of the Loving Cup. During the course of the evening we enjoyed a fine performance by two extremely gifted young musicians - soprano Laura Mitchell and guitarist Milos Karadaglic - and the Master, Leslie East, presented the Company's Gold Medal to Sir Richard Rodney Bennett. Among the other guests we were delighted to encounter such distinguished beings as conductor Stephen Barlow and his absolutely fabulous wife Joanna Lumley, violinist Madeleine Mitchell, conductor Ronald Corp and a number of the musical philanthropists who help to make the musical world go round - part of the Company's raison d'etre is to help fund scholarships for young musicians.

In his own excellent speech, Leslie speculated on the way that, in 300 years' time, researchers looking into the history of the Company might discover a report on a blog by a novelist and music journalist describing the evening in terms not so far removed from that which graced reports of its dinners three centuries ago. And perhaps not much has changed.

So - if you're reading this in 2308, a very warm greeting from us all here in the 21st Century! And a huge thank-you to the Company for a truly splendid evening.

Here's my speech.

Master, wardens, aldermen, liverymen and fellow guests!

It’s a great honour to be here tonight and to speak at such a sumptuous dinner.

It’s a special delight, too, to see Sir Richard Rodney Bennett here as the Company’s special guest. Like all of us, I’ve been enjoying his music for many years in all its shapes and forms – he must be one of the most polymorphous composers working today. And his presence is a wonderful excuse to take a very brief look at what it means to be a composer at all, but especially now, in the first years of the 21st century, an era of extraordinary change.

It goes without saying that if it wasn’t for composers, none of us would be here tonight, because western classical music wouldn’t exist. Music may be a God-given gift, but it’s also a man-made art: every tune you whistle, every mobile phone jingle you hear, every song you sing with your kids in the car, has at some point been thought up and written down by a composer. It’s so easy to take music for granted these days that it’s equally easy to forget what an extraordinary phenomenon the ability to compose good music really is.

It’s peculiar enough to create a substantial piece of work in any medium. Writing novels can feel like an insane undertaking at times, especially when you find you have to research 80 years of Hungarian history, but at least words and language are everyone’s staple diet of communication. Writing music is a more extreme sport, because music begins where words end. To create music means working with a raw material that is much more elusive yet also much more direct in the way it reaches the audiences’ emotions. That’s why composers often leave me feeling quite simply awestruck.

For about two minutes, when I was about 17, I thought I wanted to compose. Actually I was put in a corner at metaphorical gunpoint and ordered to write a setting of a psalm for a big school event. But when I got to university, it started to look like a less appealing option. This was the mid Eighties. First, I was a girl, and the rather monastic atmosphere around the composer cliques left one in no doubt that one was not precisely welcome. But even if you got past that, the resistance to the idea of melody or harmony was another matter. A composer friend knocked on my door one day badly in need of tea – his teacher had just told him he ‘thought too much about the way his music sounded’. I know there’ll be resistance and dispute over this, but I am speaking according to my own experience and observations: a quarter of a century ago there was a distinct feeling that there were party lines to toe. We were all in thrall to a perceived sort of historico-political imperative to write serialism, modernism et al, and if you didn’t, you were A Bad Person. The fact that not many people wanted to listen to the results didn’t seem to be a problem, because Beethoven was misunderstood in his day and alienated his audiences, therefore if nobody likes your stuff, you are obviously the next Beethoven... Fuzzy logic, perhaps, but certainly the secret was to épater les bourgeois. Shock those dreadful middle classes out of their appalling complacency!

Anyway, the bottom line was that I had no talent. So I gave up and sat back to see whether this new batch of would-be Beethovens would be Beethoven. Most of them weren’t. My friend who needed tea ended up appropriately enough in China... learning to play folk instruments. I’d loved his music and it still breaks my heart that he – and innumerable others – were so alienated by their supposedly educational experiences that they fled the country, or composition, and sometimes music itself. It wasn't serialism or modernism that was to blame, of course - some of the greatest composers of the 20th century used these - but rather the stranglehold they were permitted to exert over all possible alternatives. Living composers desperately need support, and prime among that support must be open ears and open minds on the part of the people who make the decisions.

Meanwhile, everyone seemed to have forgotten that while 'epateeing' les bourgeois may be fun, les bourgeois are on the whole the ones who buy the tickets. And sooner or later, they vote with their feet – and their wallets. Musicians, contrary to popular opinion, are human beings and have to eat.

In the last fifteen or twenty years, there’s been a radical shift in the new music world. First, if you’re a girl, it’s not such a problem any more. The roster of women composers is growing fast – while the Judiths Weir and Bingham have blazed an inspiring trail in this country, younger composers like Roxanna Panufnik, Errollyn Wallen and Tansy Davis aren’t far behind. Meanwhile the range of styles available to composers has never been greater. Back in the seventies and eighties, composers with the versatility to range from jazz to classical to film to pop used to keep their activities strictly separated. That’s no longer the case.

One of my special passions is the music of Erich Wolfgang Korngold, who started off as a child prodigy in Vienna a hundred years ago and ended up becoming the founding father of the Hollywood film score. He once said: “Music is music, whether it is for the stage, screen or rostrum. Form may change, the manner of writing may vary, but the composer needs to make no concessions whatever to what he conceives to be his own musical ideology.” He was speaking in 1946, but even if he was right, the attitudes of the time didn’t perceive it that way. He was dismissed as ‘a Hollywood composer’ – back then a deeply damning term – because his serious music sounded like film music; although the truth was actually that film music sounded like Korngold, who invented it in his own personal style.

It took decades to break down that barrier, but Korngold’s best opera, Die tote Stadt is now firmly back in the international repertoire and will have its UK stage premiere at Covent Garden in January – an indication that those proscriptive attitudes have relaxed. So, how did this change happen? First, the Minimalists in America essentially went back to the drawing board and created a new, basic and accessible language which caught something of the eighties and nineties zeitgeist and achieved a huge impact with audiences; secondly, the fall of the Iron Curtain meant that composers from the eastern bloc could come to the west and we could explore the richness and spirituality of their works; thirdly, cheap air travel has – while it lasts – meant extraordinary ease in exchanging ideas with a wealth of musical traditions around the world. And information is so easily available on the internet, in print and in person that the range of potential influences open to a composer is infinite.

We’re poised, I reckon, on a kind of communicative cusp – our means of disseminating information and art is changing faster than we are, and part of the challenge for any creative artist is simply keeping up and making the new mediums work with you rather than against you. Youtube is just the beginning and ten years from now it will look antiquated. Probably two years from now it will look antiquated. Finding a personal voice in the face of an world that’s so fragmented and varied may never have been harder – but as ever there’s nothing that stimulates creativity so much as a challenge. Maintaining artistic individuality in the face of globalisation isn’t easy. But as ever, the ones who will succeed are the ones who can meet the challenges of their times head on in the strongest way and with the greatest integrity.

All this is really just a long way of saying that music remains the greatest gift and the greatest miracle of human creativity. Therefore musicians are a worshipful company indeed. It’s a joy to celebrate with you tonight the art that we all love so much.

So, on behalf of your guests I am very grateful for your hospitality this evening and I would ask my fellow guests to join me in a toast to the Company!

Stop press: Ida Haendel is in town

Don't miss Ida Haendel at the Wigmore Hall tonight! She is performing with pianist Olga Sitkovetsky and members of the Razumovsky Ensemble and Academy in a very rare London recital. Box office: 020 7935 2141. Also, do try to get to Anna-Liisa Bezrodny's 6pm Razumovsky Young Artist Recital - she is an absolute delight.

I will write up the Kernis and Rorem performance asap, but as I'm supposed to deliver my next manuscript to Hodder rather soon - like, er, next week - it mightn't be immediate...

Songs from West and East

It may not be the easiest time to sell American music in London, given the all-time low popularity of that president. But hey, he's going soon and it's no reason not to enjoy the fascinating music of Samuel Barber or the European premiere of a new song cycle by Ned Rorem, one of today's finest composers of art song. An team of excellent young musicians are presenting a programme that is exciting, fresh and (especially for the Wigmore Hall, which is largely back to its old conservative ways) new, on Sunday evening, spearheaded by prizewinning pianist Marisa Gupta.

The Rorem cycle is called Aftermath - Ten Songs on Love and War and sounds, to put it mildly, topical. Super baritone Thomas Meglioranza sings it, and Brilliant Sky, Infinite Sky by Aaron Jay Kernis. Those of you in Australia, by the way, can hear him soon in the Australian Festival of Chamber Music in Townsville on 9 July when he sings the baritone songs in our Turgenev-Viardot programme The Song of Triumphant Love. Programme also includes music by Gershwin arranged by Heifetz, with violinist Hayley Wolfe, and Barber's excellent Excursions.

Meanwhile Patricia Rozario is gearing up to a wonderful recital programme in the City of London Festival on 3 July, bringing together songs of longing for the East by Schubert, Schumann and Mendelssohn with some powerful Tavener (the Akhmatova Songs, written for her), a new cycle by Param Vir on poetry by Rabindranath Tagore (also written for her) and some folk songs from Goa. Read my piece about her in yesterday's Indy here.

Merci pour la musique!

And not only for the music. A thousand thanks to everyone who helped to make the Hungarian Dances concert yesterday a rip-roaring runaway success. Thanks to Vernon Ellis, Veronica Davies and the Queen's Gate Terrace Concerts for accepting us into the series and hosting the event in their beautiful salon, and for all their hard work. Thanks to Janine for some very "different" canapes: transforming Hungarian cuisine into finger food is no small order. Overwhelming thanks to Ilona for her sensational Austro-Hungarian biscuits, expert page-turning, and astonishing tranquility backstage throughout; ditto for Linn, who was able to keep her head when all about her might have been losing theirs; and ditto to Kate and Marissa from Hodder. Thanks to the team from omusic TV - more of which, I hope, in due course. Thanks to everyone in the audience for being so tolerant when I succumbed to brain-loss and forgot their names. And most of all to Philippe Graffin, Claire Desert and Tom, who pulled out all the stops on violins and piano and put up with me reading stuff in between the pieces.

I think Sir Alan would have been pleased.

Pictured, Philippe and Tom in full flood of Bartok Violin Duos.

Tomorrow...

...is the Hungarian Dances concert. Please excuse me while I go and have a quick shake. I'll be back later in the week. Anyone still wanting to book can do so by following the link in the sidebar.

An artist's choice: endorse designer gear, or play in a prison?

Here's a pseudo-profound thought for Sunday brunch. When someone makes the celebrity big-time as a classical musicians, should they popularise the face of classical music and making it look 'cool' by modelling designer gear? Or would they do better to take music where it doesn't usually go and show how much good it can do?

Opera Chic reports that Lang Lang has endorsed some Adidas trainers. You can wear his name in Chinese on your heels.

I remember the day - some years ago - when I went to heaven and back at Lang Lang's concerts. A Mendelssohn piano concerto, light as a hummingbird. A Wigmore recital full of variety and marvel and love. Hats off, folks, a genius, I said. Then it all went pear-shaped. No idea what happened, but he zoomed way off the deep end in a Rachmaninov concerto in Verbier, and it just hasn't been the same since. So if he fancies going down a different route to make money, that's fine with me. We should let all the megastar names who've made the big time and become warped in the process do their modelling and endorsing et al, and make way for the real musicians who are quietly working themselves into the ground for the sake of their art.

Tonight, one of the less-blingy artists who's in it for the music is indeed getting some prime media attention: our own violin heroine Tasmin Little is the subject of The South Bank Show! Tune in and see her playing everywhere from Stratford-on-Avon to a Brighton hostel for the homeless and Belmarsh Prison on her Naked Violin project.

Finally, just have a look at this article from today's Independent on singing for peace in Darfur. Music has that much power. So what are its most famous practitioners doing endorsing trainers?

Rant over. off to practise my readings for Tuesday now.

Return of the little black dress...

Mad props to whichever clever being at the Independent thought up the headline A SVELTER BELTER for my piece today about the glorious Deborah Voigt, who is back at Covent Garden next week after an eight-year absence to sing Ariadne auf Naxos, complete with THAT little black dress.

Here's one of the cuter promotional videos I've encountered:

Mary Whitehouse moment...

Having missed The Minotaur at Covent Garden, I watched it on TV yesterday - yes, BBC2 actually decided to show an entire brand-new opera by Birtwistle from the Royal Opera House on Saturday night at prime time (so full marks for that).

I ended up hiding behind the sofa. Honest to goodness, guv, I haven't seen anything so scary since the Daleks, or anything so horrific since Downfall.

Of course, it was fantastic - amazing singing and great performances from everyone and especially John Tomlinson and Christine Rice, huge power in the music even if it's tough on the ears and brain (I liked the use of the cimbalom), and the libretto is very striking indeed. I was just relieved not to have been locked into a Bayreuth-style pew for the duration and I really don't think they should have shown it before the watershed.

Could someone over the Pond please tell us something: are Birtwistle's operas performed much in the States, and how do they go over? Ditto for Germany, France and Italy?

Tragic deaths of Halle Orchestra couple

I'm sorry to have to report that Halle Orchestra musicians Mike and Dorothy Hall have been killed in an avalanche while on a walking holiday in the Pyrenees. Full story here.

Mike, a violinist, was a student alongside my husband a few decades ago and Tom describes him as one of the most positive and supportive people he knew. Dorothy was a cellist. I never met them, but after a wonderful phone chat with Mike I made him one of the 'case studies' in a piece I wrote about orchestral life a few years ago.

Why didn't he just turn the guy into a flautist?

My eye was caught today by this story from The Times about 'the cellist of Sarajevo', who is extremely upset by a novel called, er, The Cellist of Sarajevo. The author, Steven Galloway, raises some interesting points in the article about how to draw the line between fiction and reality, eg whether you have to pay off the latter if creating the former. (His book raises even more interesting questions about this. I am in the middle of it at the moment and feel, so far, that it straddles both fiction and reality, therefore satisfies entirely as neither.)

But what excellent publicity...

Tosca, or Why the Best is the Enemy of the Vaguely OK

It was one of those Cloud 9 moments: a man on a ladder starts to sing, the sound hits you in the gut and you undergo some kind of out-of-body experience...The ladder was on stage at Covent Garden, the man was Cavaradossi, aka Jonas Kaufmann and I am still afloat 14 hours later.

The trouble with placing a voice like Kaufmann's centre stage in Tosca, though, is that you need a soprano and a baritone who function at the same artistic level. Not to mention a conductor who knows what his singers are doing. Micaela Carosi as Tosca looked gorgeous and has a big voice, but she proved irritatingly mannered - too much swooping and mucking about with vibrato and lack of - and though she milked 'Vissi d'arte' and got a huge round of applause, it left me faintly chilly. Paolo Gavanelli as Scarpia looked great, but had neither sound nor charisma to match - you kept thinking he was probably quite a nice guy underneath. Paul Wynne Griffiths, in the pit, didn't seem to have liaised much with the chorus master and he and Kaufmann parted company rather drastically several times.

Kaufmann bowls out his black-coffee tenor tone as if it's the easiest thing on earth: it's dark, delicious and leaves you unable to sleep. And he can act, too. He simply showed the others up.

The production, by Jonathan Kent, does what it says on the tin. This is the most classic Tosca you could hope for. Beautiful designs, correct period setting, no monkey business other than that explicitly stipulated. A Tosca for tourists, I thought, trying hard to wish for something more imaginative. But it looks so good that it was impossible to keep thinking that...and I liked the attention to detail: Cavaradossi descending the ladder on a descent in the orchestra, and running up the stairs on an ascent, or a soldier putting out a cigarette at the beginning of Act III with a flourish of light matching a squiggle on the flute.

As for Kaufmann - please, G-d, if you're there, take good care of this guy. Let that voice stick around for a long, long time. It's proof that miracles exist.

There is a video on Youtube of him singing 'E lucevan le stelle' in a TV show, but I think he is best in operatic context, which shows the full range of what he can do. So here he is in the Flower Song from Carmen at Covent Garden last year. Enjoy.

The Apprentice Concert Manager

With two weeks to go until our Hungarian Dances concert-of-the-book, I've somehow acquired a whole new respect for concert managers. Meanwhile I've got hooked on The Apprentice. So here, with apologies to Sir Alan Sugar, the BBC and the French language, is a little JDCMB take on the proceedings...


(Prologue: darkness: Jess asleep, feverishly tossing and turning...)

Voice-over: One book. One concert. One CD. One chance only. Four people are coming to South Kensington to make their dream come true: the awesome uniting of fiction and music. But to bring this dream to fruition, these artistic celebrities must learn to work together, even if they are married...

(Morning. Phone rings. Dishevelled Jess answers.) Disembodied secretary voice: Sir Alan would like you to meet him at Queen's Gate Terrace. The car will be there in half an hour.

(Queen's Gate Terrace: masterclass in full swing under the chandeliers).
Sir Alan: This beautiful salon is in the heart of musical London, two minutes from the Royal Albert Hall. You want to make a recording, but you need to raise some capital to back it. This place seats 110 people and offers a top-notch series of recitals and masterclasses. Here is your task: you're going to put on a concert. The one who makes the most money wins. Of the rest, one of you will get fired.

Jess, Tom, Philippe and Claire: Yes/oui, Sir Alan.

(Cut to: JDCMB home base: much activity, with Solti getting underfoot. Jess designing flyer on computer, Tom taking memory stick to Prontaprint.)

Claire: J'ai des concerts a Paris. A bientot!
Philippe: J'ai des concerts a New York. A bientot!
Tom: It'll soon be Glyndebourne.
Administrator: What a lovely idea your concert is. Have you decided what you'd like to do about catering?
(Fatalistic fanfare) Jess (shocked): Catering?!

(Music: signature tune to the latest Nigella Lawson series)
(Cut to: Jess in supermarket, selecting ready-made canapes. Cut to: Jess & Tom at home, eating them.)
Tom: Yuck.
(Cut to: Jess in Budapest, musing over menus and buying the Gundel Cookbook. Then discovering she got the wrong one and it's all in Hungarian.)

(Cut to: Jess at the gym. Enter Friendly Caterer on the next machine)
Friendly Caterer: We could do cold cherry soup in espresso cups!
(Dreamscene: guests tippling from espresso cups, spilling pink gloop on beautiful wooden floor...)
Friendly Caterer: Have you thought about Hungarian wine?
(Cut to: Jess bringing home Hungarian white wine from supermarket, sampling it, then doubling up with heartburn.)
Philippe: I 'ave to practise. A bientot!
Tom: I'd better learn those Bartok Duos.
Jess: At least I don't have to play the bloody piano.

(Cut to: Tom practising. Cut to: Philippe practising. Cut to: Claire practising. Cut to: Jess on phone to publisher.)
Publisher: Very nice, dear, sorry we can't help to pay for it. By the way, why is your next manuscript so late?

(Cut to: Jess putting a post advertising the concert on JDCMB. Cut to: email from famous singer requesting ticket. Cut to: date - 1 April.)

(Music: The Beatles, With a little Help from my Friends)
(Cut to: Tom wheeling and dealing around the Festival Hall, the supermarket, the train, Glyndebourne and the dentist. Cut to: concert bookings spreadsheet, numbers rising)
(Cut to: Jess doing mass emailing. Replies arrive: "great, two comps please.")
(Cut to: Jess on phone to Philippe, conversation inaudible but cartoon images flying around of weeping Pound signs being eaten alive by grinning Euros with blood-stained teeth.)
(Cut to: concert promotion in Hungarian Cultural Centre brochure. Cut to inbox: email arrives - in Hungarian.)
(Cut to: Jess rips up cover and experiments with different titles. English Dances. Italian Operas. French Letters.)

(Cut to: Philippe and Tom rehearsing Bartok Duos.)
Tom: Blimey, he's amazing!
Jess: So are you, darling.
Tom: I've sold loads of tickets. What about you?
Jess: Erm, I've sold some.
(Cut to email from famous singer, who is not an April Fool joke after all, requesting another ticket.)
Tom: I'm going to get that job with Sir Alan, and sod the rest of you! Just wait until we get into the boardroom...
Solti: Meow.
Philippe: J'ai des concerts en Afrique-du-Sud. A bientot!
Friendly Caterer: Is there anywhere to park in South Kensington?
Tom: Maybe we can sell copies of your book and make a donation to the project from the sales.

(Cut to: Jess on phone to warehouse)
Warehouse manager: Congratulations! The Hungarian Dances hardback has sold out.
Jess: But I've only got one copy left! And I'm going to have an audience of 100 people - and no books?!
Publisher: Very nice, dear. Rather than reprinting the hardback, we'll print the paperback early.
Jess: Oh, that's so wonderful of you, I'm terribly grateful, you are wonderful lovely people.
Publisher: No problem, dear. We should receive copies on 19 June...
(Cut to: Jess staring at concert date, which is 17 June. Cut to: Jess trawling Internet for cheap copies of own book.)
Publisher: We'll find some somewhere, don't panic... By the way, why is your next manuscript so late?
Jess (running in circles, flapping arms): Don't panic, don't panic! Help!
Solti: Meow?!

(Cut to: The candidates assemble at Sir Alan's office. Ominous woogly Apprentice music.)
Sir Alan's secretary: You can go through to the boardroom now. (Cut to: the boardroom.)
Sir Alan: Philippe and Claire, you're great musicians. You can go back to the house.
Philippe and Claire: Merci, Sir Alain. A bientot!
Sir Alan: So...Tom and Jessica...Today one of you will get fired. Who's sold the most tickets, Margaret?
Margaret: Tom has, Sir Alan.
Sir Alan: Tom, well done. How did Jessica bear up through the task?
Tom: Sir Alan, my wife means well, but to be honest, Sir Alan, selling is just not her cup of tea. She's only a writer. I've been left with doing all the hard work while she sits in her study making up stories. Everything that's been good in this task is down to me, and (sob) I have to play second violin on the night, too!
Sir Alan: Jessica, give me a good reason why I shouldn't fire you.
Jess (defensive): Sir Alan, I devised the concept, which is totally unique, I've made a four-page script out of a 400-page book, I worked out the programme as a team with Philippe, I've found a caterer who for an excellent price can transform soupy, stewy Hungarian cuisine into finger-food, I've found a good wine deal, and none of this would even be happening if I hadn't written the book. I believe at the end we will have a package that will be immensely attractive to the public. It has total artistic integrity. And only we could have done this - as the special team that we are.
Sir Alan (shaking head): And do you think you'd last even two minutes in my organisation? You haven't got a bloody clue. (points finger) Jessica, you're -

(Cut to: Jess sits bolt upright in bed, gasping and sweating: it was all a dream...)
Solti: Prr.

HUNGARIAN DANCES: THE CONCERT OF THE NOVEL is at 49 Queen's Gate Terrace on 17 June, 7 for 7.30. Booking details here.

Guess who's birthday?

29 May 1897, Brno.
xxx

Interview with Dudley Mo- I mean Krystian Zimerman

75 minutes before beginning a phenomenally demanding programme, Krystian Zimerman, cool as proverbial cucumber, effected a sudden and unexpected transformation into Dudley Moore. This natural-born stand-up comedian (the sit-down version) within seconds had our very substantial audience in stitches.

It's not quite the same without his impeccable timing, but here's one of the anecdotes. Krystian went to Bonn to have a look at Beethoven's hearing aids. Apparently bones can transmit a range of high frequencies that most of us can't hear, and Beethoven had a special stick that he held between his teeth and placed against the piano, so he could actually 'hear' more frequencies than anyone else can normally register. Krystian decided to try this at home. At 4am his wife went to look for him and found him hunched over the piano wearing a motorbike helmet (to cut out noise), stick in teeth...

For anyone who's curious about the switchover of keyboards, here's how it works. K plays Bach. Applause. K bows and exits stage right, while, stage left, enter piano technician. Technician unscrews something under the piano, takes off the top and puts it down, unslots keyboard in a few seconds and carries it out. Returns with other keyboard, slots it in, replaces top, does up screws, exit stage left to applause, while, stage right, enter K, who goes to piano and begins Op.111. Easy peasy. And it sounds utterly different. It's about overtones and voicing. The overtones for the Bach are glittering and penetrating even when K plays with the lightest of touches. The Beethoven is like switching from etching to oil painting: duskiness, darkness, ethereal nuance like candlelight. And K's range of colours in the Szymanowski Variations has to be heard to be believed: the sort of crescendo from nothing to everything that just when you think it can't go further, promptly does... But as K says, dynamics do not depend on loudness.

Blimey, guv. It was quite a night.

BTW, the pic was taken during the sound-check - the handbag didn't join us for the talk.

Almost a sneak preview

This isn't what Zimerman is playing tomorrow, Tuesday, when he's programmed the Bach Second Partita, Beethoven Op.111, Brahms Op.119 and Szymanowski Variations at the Royal Festival Hall. The extract below was filmed a while ago (we were all younger once), but same person, same pianist, same wonder. Also read Kenneth Woods's super tribute after the Manchester recital a couple of days ago.

Treat yourself here to the Chopin Barcarolle - and those of you in rushing up distance of London, see you tomorrow (pre-concert interview live on stage 6.15pm, concert 7.30pm).

Music matters today

I'm on BBC Radio 3's Music Matters today, in a panel discussion about music in fiction. Fellow panellists are Richard Coles and Philip Hensher, presenter is Petroc Trelawny, and Ian McEwan and Patrick Gale are quoted at some length. The programme begins at 12.15 but will also be available online at Listen Again for 7 days.

Tea for everyone

It seems that everyone needs extra tea today, so here is a good dose of it from Shostakovich. Love to all.

More about KZ...

...from my colleague Michael Church in today's Indy, previewing the recital tomorrow in Manchester. KZ will then be in Basingstoke on 25th before the RFH on 27th.

By the way, Michael says that our hero won't record, but our hero told me, when I interviewed him for Pianist magazine, that he's just agreed three more recordings, even though he wouldn't say what they were going to be. Take your pick.

MEANWHILE, back in the pit...a hairy moment during the first night of Glyndebourne's Eugene Onegin when Tom managed to lose his violin part for the new Matthias Pintscher piece (which the LPO is playing at the RFH next week) down a crack between the floorboards. Despite quips about how it might be the best place for it, he transformed himself into Superfiddler and crawled through a subterranean tunnel to retrieve it, causing his colleagues much hilarity as they tripped over his legs.

Weather forecast?

I used to have a theory that if it was cold and rainy for the first Glyndebourne dress rehearsal of the season, the rest of the summer would be heavenly. Yesterday at the Onegin dress, the weather was so horrid and miserable that we picnicked in the car with some soup. Bodes well? Hmm. Last year we did exactly the same thing, for Macbeth, and then it didn't stop raining for a year. Somehow I don't think I'll be getting Michael Fish's weather job at the Beeb.

Will write about Onegin in detail once it opens - for now all I can say is it's a total treat. Meanwhile mad props to Clive Davis at The Spectator and Brian Micklethwaite at Samizdata (a Libertarian blog - !?) for their kind comments and links, and to Gert for staying for the whole of Simon Boccanegra the other night and reporting that eventually Simone gave up and was overdubbed in his death scene by, er, Paolo the villain!

And hat off to Stephen Pollard who tells it like it is about the BBC's coverage of its own recent Young Musician of the Year competition. It was won by a 12-year-old trombonist called Peter Moore, and the reason I didn't write anything about it is that I didn't even know it was on, which seems rather to prove Stephen's point. Sue Tomes has similar words in The Guardian. More of that when I can control the rage-induced tremor in my hands.

There's something in the aria

Behind the scenes at Glyndebourne: my latest, from the Indy today. I'd envisaged it as the music journalism equivalent of Sex & the City, but we had to clean it up a bit. Enjoy!

If you've been directed here from The Queen's Hall...

... please scroll down to WHEN MOSTAR COMES TO SCOTLAND. The video clip in question, of Nigel Osborne's Differences in Demolitions, is there. NOT the one directly below this post, which is of the endearingly nightmarish Florence Foster Jenkins and has nothing to do with Bosnia!

Anyone requiring temporary serious relief from the Marx Brothers potential of all this should please read the fabulous and inspiring piece in today's Guardian by Daniel Barenboim. (Intriguingly, it reveals he nearly ended up being called Agassi instead. Just think, if he'd won Wimbledon...)

An affectionate tribute, sort of

Have a listen:



It was sounds faintly reminiscent of this that sent us scurrying ignominiously out of Covent Garden at half-time yesterday after getting the giggles in Simon Boccanegra. Second-rate Verdi isn't always my tasse de the, and it needs to be very well done to come off. We booked yonks ago when Nina Stemme was listed as Amelia; she dropped out a while back (perhaps she knew something we didn't?) and was replaced by two different ladies, alternating. Reviews were generally good (it's a nice traditional production, which is all most of them want), so we decided to go anyway. Word on the ground has it that No.1 cast Anja Harteros is sensational. We saw No.2.

I forget her name, but I hope she is OK. If she had flu or a Big Personal Crisis, someone else should have gone on, or they should at least have made an announcement. It wasn't just lousy, it was hilarious; and I couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor girl when her big aria was greeted not by applause but by stunned, disbeliving silence.

Nor was the soprano - strained, squally, out of tune and unmusical as she was - the only problem. Lucio Gallo as Simone started off well, but by the interval he was sounding nearly as forced and unhappy as his leading lady. The best voice on stage was Ferruccio Furlanetto (Jacopo Fiesco) who was a stand-in himself. The tenor, one Mr Haddock, did his best under trying circumstances, but there was something fishy about the whole thing. The chorus was behind all the time. The orchestra, under John Eliot Gardiner, occasionally made some beautiful sounds - supple and persuasive strings, chocolatey clarinet, a good effort towards elan - but does that add up to good operatic accompanying? Was it a coincidence that everyone on stage (except Furlanetto) seemed to be forcing their voices? My resident fiddler, who has played this work many times, grunted uncomfortably: "Why are they playing so loudly? Why doesn't JEG take them down a few notches?" Probably, I suggested, in order to drown out the soprano.

There's a minimum standard you expect at the ROH and this wasn't it. Come back, Florence Foster Jenkins, all is forgiven.

Not sure whether to file under Conductor Does Wrong Repertoire, A Case of Mistaken Identity in the Casting Office or just These Things Happen, but we sloped away home for an early night.

Faure's birthday

Gabriel Faure was born on 12 May 1845, Pamiers, France. Here is a little birthday present: the great French violinist Christian Ferras, who died tragically by his own hand in 1982, performing the Berceuse. It's much more than just a lullaby. Merci pour tous, mon tres cher Monsieur Gabriel.

When Mostar comes to Scotland

If you're in Scotland, don't miss the Opera Circus tour this month of Differences in Demolitions, the chamber opera by Nigel Osborne and poet-librettist Goran Simic, which grew out of the soundworld of Bosnian sevdah. I went to see it in Mostar last year - see Independent feature here - and am thrilled that they're doing it again. Attending it in its spiritual home, Bosnia, was one of the most moving experiences I've ever had. The video below gives a very small taste of it.



Here are all the tour details:

Date/time: Wednesday 14 May 7.30pm
Venue: Adam Smith Theatre, Kirkcaldy
Box Office: 01592 583302
Tickets: £12/£10
www.attfife.org.uk

Date/time: Friday 16 May 8pm
Venue: macrobert, University of Stirling
Box Office: 01786 466666
Tickets: £10/£6
www.macrobert.org

Date/time: Tuesday 20 & Wednesday 21 May 7.30pm
Venue: Eden Court, Inverness
Box Office: 01463 234 234
Tickets: £12/£10, Under 18s £5
www.eden-court.co.uk

Date/time: Saturday 24 May 8pm
Venue: The Byre Theatre, St. Andrews
Box Office: 01334 475000
Tickets: £15/£12
www.byretheatre.com

Date/time: Tuesday 27 & Wednesday 28 May 8pm
Venue: Tron Theatre, Glasgow
Box Office: 0141 552 4267
Tickets: £10/£6
www.tron.co.uk

Date/time: Saturday 31 May 8pm
Venue: The Queen’s Hall, Edinburgh
Box Office: 0131 668 2019
Tickets: £12/£10, Under 18s £5
www.thequeenshall.net
7pm Composer Nigel Osborne talks about his music
* reduced priced tickets for the music students of Napier College and the University of Edinburgh

Speaking of Bosnia, tomorrow violinist Ruth Waterman publishes a book about her experiences of working there with the Mostar Sinfonietta, bearing the quirky title When Swan Lake Comes to Sarajevo. Very much looking forward to reading it.

kurze pause...

I've had to cancel my talk in Stratford-on-Avon today because I've got tonsilitis. grrrr.

The good news is that the South Bank Show will be filming Tasmin's concert with Rox's new concerto plus the Barber concerto, as part of their programme about her coming up on BBCTV soon.

JDCMB back asap.

Oh no, not another one

Someone has found yet another Vivaldi opera lurking somewhere and finished it using bits of the others. Full story from the Indy here.

Vivaldi was an astonishing character with a hugely colourful life. But isn't there a limit to how many of these rattly, twiddly baroque things the market can take? After all, most of them feature either a one-name title (eg Tomasso, Soltino, etc) or a massively long one (Il trionfo del blogorissimo classicale di Madamina Duchene), arias da carping hell for leather for several hours trying to sound inventive on the reprise (my favourite carp is to be found in halaszle, Hungarian fish soup), not to mention recycled bits and bobs from other works, a harpsichord sounding as harpsichords do, a swarm of wasps where the violins ought to be and a reluctance to cut even one note leading to hellishly uncomfortable theatrical experiences as the reverential principles of Richard Wagner are applied willynilly to music that was actually designed as background entertainment to business meetings, illicit love affairs and the odd bit of orange throwing.

The degree course I took some while ago foisted 24 compulsory lectures on Italian Baroque Opera upon its unsuspecting first-years. I entered with a vague fondness for Monteverdi. I exited with a vague fondness for Monteverdi, too, but not before upsetting one of my teachers by finding a leitmotif in Poppea. Seriously. It's a figure of notes associated with Poppea's ambition.... (Well, whaddya expect? One has to stay sane somehow.)

ON A TOTALLY different tack, if you fancy a day or two in Shakespeare's own town, come to Stratford-on-Avon for Tasmin's Spring Sounds Festival, which is in full swing today, Sunday, and tomorrow, Monday. Tomorrow's concert by the Orchestra of the Swan features Tasmin in the premiere of Roxanna Panufnik's new violin concerto 'Spring in Japan' and Korngold's Suite from Much Ado About Nothing, and I shall be introducing it with a preamble called 'How Shakespeare Saved Korngold's Life'.

Cripes indeed

Headline on today's Independent says it all.

We woke up to find that London, effective capital of Europe, city of more than 7 million, a population of such diversity that every time you take the tube you hear at least four languages chattering around you, has elected a Tory magazine editor to be its new mayor. 'Boris', because he's an entertaining character, has previously got away with foot-in-mouth disease that would have slain any other politician - there was the time he had the whole of Liverpool baying for his blood, and several instances of racist crassness that I don't need to repeat here. But what worries us is that he's never really run anything except The Spectator, a right-wing political journal (it has some good scribblers, but editing it doesn't exactly equate to controlling London Underground).

Frankly, dear readers, if such magazine experience qualifies one to become mayor of London, then I shall have a go next time. I'm a native. I was born within the sound of Bow Bells. I've lived here all my life and I'd waited for, uh, however many decades it was for someone to improve our pathetic public transport before erstwhile mayor Ken got on with it. I'll be campaigning on the principles of scrapping the Olympics, music and dance experiences for every school every week, taxing the football clubs and giving the extra dosh to the arts, putting the congestion charge up up UP, and providing subsidised food for every cat in London.

Stratford today

If you're in the vicinity of Stratford-upon-Avon today, you might like to come along to a fun panel discussion in the literary festival in which I'll be one of four commentators talking about romantic fiction, along with Katie Fforde, Mark Barrowcliffe and Louise Allen. The Civic Hall, 6pm. Our shebang is called 'Reader, I Married Him'.
Later you can hear Jodi Picoult, at 8pm.

I'll be back there next Monday for the Spring Sounds Festival, doing a pre-concert talk about Korngold. (Reader, I didn't marry him, but I love him anyway.) More details of that very soon.

Tune in, Philadelphia!

And everyone else! Vlad conducts the Verdi Requiem tonight at 7pm on BBC Radio 3 and you can listen to it by going to this page and clicking on the iPlayer. The all-star cast includes Barbara Frittoli, Ildiko Komlosi, Massimo Giordano and Ferruccio Furlanetto and it is, of course, our own and Jurowski's own LPO. (Gloats.)

It was recorded live at the RFH the other night and I wasn't there (will spare you the story of why) but do read Neil Fisher's review in The Times where he - advises you to cancel your other plans and unplug the phone.

I thoroughly enjoyed a classic Vladathon of string-and-and-things music from the 1930s last week - Britten Frank Bridge Variations and Les Illuminations with the splendiferous Sally Matthews, the Shostakovich Piano Concerto no. 1 with new German piano star Martin Helmchen, who is about 25 but looks 12, and to cap it all the Bartok Music for String, Percussion and Celeste. Two and a half hours, stress levels soaring and a rush for beer in the Archduke Bar afterwards, but it was fabulous.

Return of the King

Krystian Zimerman - to us, King Krystian the Glorious - will be in the UK next month for three recitals: Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, on 23 May, The Anvil, Basingstoke, on 25 May and in Southbank Centre's International Piano Series at the RFH, London, on 27th. His programme remained under wraps for some while but has now been confirmed as:

Bach: Partita No.4 in D major, BWV 828
Beethoven: Sonata in C minor, Op.111
Brahms: Klavierstucke, Op.119
Szymanowski: Variations on a Polish Theme, Op.10

I've written a cover feature about KZ for the latest edition of PIANIST magazine, which is out now. The magazine, edited by superwoman-dynamo-journo-pianist Erica Worth, is heartily recommended for all pianophiles at all levels. Here is the feature: read about his friendship with Rubinstein, his passion for ice diving and why he won't be going to America again until the Iraq situation is sorted.

And, stop press: the latest news is that he will be doing a pre-concert talk here in London before the 27 May recital and I will be asking the questions. :-)

Happy birthday, Rox!

A wildly HAPPY BIRTHDAY to the one and only Roxanna Panufnik - ace composer, daughter and musical heir to the glorious Sir Andrzej, and today celebrating the big 4-0 with a season including no fewer than 11 premieres. Visit her site for the full story, a sample of her music and a roster of events to attend and enjoy.

Rox's musical language is at once accessible and highly personal; she excels in wit, tenderness and imaginative sonic textures, and while she's been best known for vocal settings such as her Westminster Mass and Beastly Tales which set poems by Vikram Seth, her Violin Concerto 'Abraham', written a couple of years ago for Dan Hope, and her extraordinary Harp Concerto, for Cathy Beynon, are among the pieces that have most got under my skin.

For starters, don't miss the premiere of Rox's 'Spring in Japan', the first part of a new Four Seasons violin concerto for Tasmin Little, in Stratford-upon-Avon on 5 May - I'll be doing a pre-concert talk which is actually about Korngold and Shakespeare, but will be flying the flag for the present day too! And much looking forward to the premiere at Westminster Cathedral on 3 June by The Sixteen and Harry Christophers of Rox's choral work Stay With Me, a setting of a prayer by Padre Pio with words adapted by, er, yours truly. Book soon, as tickets (free) are flying.

(...no, I haven't converted to Catholicism, but I did love bashing some universally relevant and moving lines into singable shape, courtesy of the Genesis Foundation, which commissioned three different composer/writer teams to tackle the same task. James MacMillan and Will Todd complete the compositional triumvirate. More of this in due course...)

A tad perturbed to see on tonight's news that Padre Pio's body has just been exhumed and put on display in Rome - apparently this is 'normal' practice with saints. Though there's some controversy as to whether or not he faked his stigmata. !?

Baritone behaving badly

Erwin Schrott, La Netrebko's hubby-to-be and father of imminent child, is about to be sued for breach of contract by one of London's finest musical philanthropists.

We were all (especially us girls) looking forward to el hunko's appearance in the Rosenblatt Recital Series on 11 June. The series brings the world's biggest singers (and some valuable debuts) to appear in recital in London, incl JDF which I missed cos I couldn't get in last year; but Mr S has decided, for reasons best known to himself, that he ain't gonna show - for the second time. Here is what Mr Rosenblatt has to say on the subject. Fasten your seatbelts.

"For our audience to be treated with such gross unprofessionalism and disrespect by Mr Schrott, on two occasions, is something that shouldn’t be tolerated.

“This is a regrettable situation, but for the reputation of my Series I cannot allow artists, with no lawful excuse, to renege on their contractual commitments.

"In the seven years I’ve been running our recital series I have been impressed time and again by the dedication of singers to their art and their public. Singers such as Mr Schrott give opera a bad name and a reputation for not caring for the people that pay to hear them sing.

“I am disgusted by Mr Schrott’s callous disregard to his contractual obligations. His behaviour is cowardly and I can only wonder if he has the guts to appear on a London concert platform as this is the second time he’s backed out of appearing here.”

Oof.

Living Library: borrow a person

This is the best idea I've seen in ages. You can borrow a person of a particular background, inclination, religion or whatever, someone whom you mightn't normally have the chance to meet and about whose exterior you might have certain preconceptions, for a half-hour exchange of views.

For the 1925 silent movie of Ben Hur chez LPO on Saturday, I was with a group of friends whose "ethnic origins" were Italian, English, Polish and Palestinian. All of us, for one reason or another, have washed up in London. And there we were, watching that unbelievable chariot race in which Judah Ben Hur, a prince of Judea, driving a team of horses for a Sheikh, races their Roman occupier adversary to the death - just 11 years before Jesse Owen's famous triumph at the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games. We had a good chat about all this and we think people should talk to each other at grass roots level. Twin the towns, bus people in, make the tea and please, please talk - and listen. A living library is a first and inspired step towards that. According to The Times, the next one will be at the Idea Store, London E1 on May 31. For more information contact anne.kilroy@living-library.org.

Enough idealism already for a Tuesday morning? There's a good reason, of which more in a sec. First, mad props to some Wonderful Women: a piano quiz c/o the excellent Miss Mussel - in the form of a very beautiful and rarely played work; mad props to carissima Opera Chic; and Tanita Tikaram, who's made this site her music blog link on her cool new website. And break-a-legs to our own Tazza, who'll be playing music from her Naked Violin Project in a live internet streaming from Edinburgh on her website at www.tasminlittle.org.uk on Thursday (24th), which will also be filmed for a programme that The South Bank Show is making about her! We hear she is also heading for an oil rig.

Finally: yes, there is a good reason. Today is the birthday (1916) of Yehudi Menuhin, musical idealist par excellence, not to mention one hell of an incredible violinist. Here he is in the opening of Bach's 'Erbarme dich...'.

Miklos Rozsa, I <3 <3 <3 u!

Thanks to WWM (Wonderful Web Master) for an alert to the fact that Miklos Rozsa, towering genius of Hollywood and much else, was born in Budapest 101 years ago today. Hear him out-Korngolding Korngold below in the opening titles of the 1959 Ben Hur.

Speaking of Ben Hur (and how's this for multitasking in one post), anyone who is in London and very on-the-ball should come to the RFH tomorrow night to see the original 1925 silent Ben Hur with Carl Davis's score - just as fabulous in a totally different way - played live by our own LPO. But hurry, because the Silver Screen Series is wildly popular and always sells out! The website is worth a visit as it's full of info, film clips and music to hear. Carl Davis gives a pre-concert talk at 6.15pm and the film kicks off at 7.30pm.

Back to Rozsa: for those of more purist bent, have a listen to Rozsa's concert music if you don't know it already: the Sinfonia Concertante and the Cello Concerto are full of thrills.

Meet Danielle de Niese - you will want to

Here she is: born to sing, the cosmopolitan crown-princess of opera who sent Glyndebourne up in flames when she took the role of Cleopatra there a couple of years back. She's back soon to be Poppea. My article about her is in today's Indy, but it had to be cut (mea culpa, it was too long - and more was requested on some topics, so less appeared on others), therefore I'm pasting the original below in its entirety. The story of her Glyndebourne audition, the inspiration of Dame Kiri and her insights into the character of Poppea should be worth a read. Indy website includes a clip of her as Cleo, so do take a look there too.



Danielle de Niese, a petite young woman with a big voice and an even bigger future, has an unusual problem with visa officials. “They look you up and down, and they’re like, ‘You’re an opera singer? You don’t look like an opera singer, you look like a pop star.’ And I’m like, ‘Thank you, but I am an opera singer! The stereotype is changing. This is 2008.’”

Anyone who thinks that a diva is a heavyweight in a winged helmet would be startled when confronted with de Niese, 29. She shot to fame here in 2005, singing Cleopatra in Handel’s Giulio Cesare at Glyndebourne in David McVicar’s award-winning production: her exotic beauty and star-quality stage presence created shock-waves as she was instantly acclaimed as one of the sexiest sopranos ever to set foot to stage. Moreover, there’s a charisma that seems to emanate from her voice itself – a notably young but still extraordinarily powerful and bell-like soprano. Her debut CD of Handel arias is just out on Decca, and this summer she’s back at Glyndebourne to sing the title role in Monterverdi’s L’incoronazione di Poppea.

But now there’s a twist to the Glyndebourne tale: de Niese’s name is being linked with that of Gus Christie, the chairman of the whole Glyndebourne family package, which functions in a way not dissimilar to royalty. The legend goes that when Gus’s grandfather, John Christie, fell in love with the young soprano Audrey Mildmay, he promised to build her an opera house at the family home in Sussex if she would marry him. She accepted; he kept his word, and Glyndebourne’s operatic activities duly began in 1934. The opera house is still very much a family matter; Gus took over after his father George’s retirement in 2000. But when Gus broke up in 2004 with his wife of 11 years, Imogen, who took their four young sons with her, the future of Glyndebourne was thought to hang in the balance, so vital is the Christies’ participation in the opera house’s relationship with its patrons and the media.

It looks an unlikely combination – a glamorous, streetwise Australian-American in the land of English country picnics and sheep peering over the ha-ha; yet on one level, the romance is potentially a little like Glyndebourne’s history repeating itself.

“We are together,” de Niese confirms, “and we’re having a wonderful time!” She met Gus for the first time at her audition in 2004. “And in 2005 I was working here, but we didn’t actually get together until two years later. It’s a very surprising but wonderful thing.” She’s eager to emphasise that business and private life stay separate – “All the roles I’ve been doing were planned by Glyndebourne’s casting team, who obviously didn’t know what was going to happen with me and Gus. But I think everyone is very tickled – they’re all very happy for us. So far, so great!” But she’s not about to become the hostess of Glyndebourne corporate sponsorship functions; she makes it clear that she’s lodging elsewhere throughout her stay this summer.

De Niese’s first glimpse of Glyndebourne seemed less auspicious. She’d missed a plane after being directed to the wrong terminal in Paris and, following a nightmare journey, arrived just twenty minutes before she was due to sing. “The receptionist said ‘Do you want to go the long way or the short way?’ I went for the short way, which I didn’t know was over the lawns. It was grey and wet, I was in high heels and holding my pants off the grass, looking at the sheep and thinking ‘Where am I?’ But the gods must have been with me that day…”

Her astonishing looks derive from a background as international as her career. “Both my parents were born in Sri Lanka,” she explains, “but they are Sri Lankan Burghers – people of mixed descent from the island’s colonial days.” Her father had Dutch roots and her mother’s family was partly Scottish; they both left Sri Lanka as teenagers and moved to Australia. Danielle was born in Melbourne, where she started classical voice lessons at the age of eight.

“My great heroine was Dame Kiri te Kanawa,” she says. “It wasn’t only that she’s an incredible artist, but also she’s from New Zealand and I was growing up in Australia; besides, she was of mixed background. And for me, being of mixed background, that was such an inspiration. I thought: she’s made it, so I can do something in this field and make an artistic statement as well.”

When she was ten, the family moved to Los Angeles, not least so that she could study at the Colburn School, which specialises in educating talented children. There she studied more than just classical music – jazz and tap-dancing were also on the agenda. “I was there often at evenings and weekends, and performing a lot – I made my recital debut when I was 12. But at the same time I was very much a normal kid. Though what is normal? I don’t know!”

She insists that she was never pushed beyond her capabilities and that her parents were endlessly supportive. “My dad’s in banking, my mum manages the American branch of a Swiss vitamin company; they’re really busy, but they still come to all my premieres.” She tried her hand at TV as a teenager: after she was featured on a programme called LA Kids, she was invited to present the show, did so for several years and won an Emmy. Then, at 18, she became the youngest singer ever accepted onto the Lindemann Young Artists Programme at the Metropolitan Opera, where she made her debut as Barbarina in Le nozze di Figaro. “I wasn’t even of a legal age to have a glass of champagne afterwards!”

Her role in Glyndebourne’s new production of L’incoronazione di Poppea is, like Cleopatra, that of a powerful, sexy and self-aware woman embroiled with a Roman ruler: Poppea is the mistress of the emperor Nerone. Written in 1642, the work’s sophistication and psychological complexity hasn’t dimmed with the centuries. The story appears simple: Poppea and Nerone gradually do away with anyone who stands in the way of their love and their power, from their former spouses to the philosopher Seneca. They can come across as ruthless, power-crazed individuals; but at the end when the pair finally marry, Monteverdi presents one of the most beautiful love duets ever composed; we promptly forgive them everything.

So is Poppea is driven by love or by ambition? “For me, it’s both,” de Niese declares. “She happens to have fallen genuinely in love with someone who can help her ambition. She doesn’t only want power; she loves Nerone and cares about his interests. What’s so challenging is that it’s easy to go for the one-dimensional, superbitch character, cold and icy, or warm, seducing but manipulative and not fully engaged. But Monteverdi gave her some incredible music and therefore there’s a warmth, a sincerity to her that’s absolutely transparent. It’s much harder, yet much more natural, to go with that.

“She can be seen as a bad person. But bad people also fall in love, get married, have children and protect their interests. When Poppea betrays Seneca to Nerone, people think she wants to kill him so that he won’t get in her way; he doesn’t like her, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing for her if he died. But also he’s been undermining Nerone’s power – if someone is betraying you behind your back, of course you’re going to tell someone you love about that person. She’s completely justified in her own conscience. And how often does a woman fall in love with a man who says he’s trapped in a loveless marriage? It happens all the time. That’s what makes Poppea so relevant and timeless: it’s about human nature. I don’t think the audience should look at Poppea and judge her. It’s important to understand what makes her tick.”

There’s one danger with playing Cleopatra and Poppea in quick succession, plus a host of other Handel and Rameau heroines: de Niese could easily be landed with the label of Baroque Babe. “I won’t let myself be pigeon-holed,” she insists. Nor should she be – she’s sung Adele in Johann Strauss’s Die Fledermaus and Lauretta in Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi, amongst other roles, and she longs to sing Anne Truelove in Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress. For her next album, she says, “I would like to do Mozart”.

Top dream role? “Massenet’s Manon. I was completely bitten by the bug for that role when I first saw it at the Met. But for now I’m looking at some Donizetti, which is a good way to broaden from the early and classical repertoire, just to take another step into bel canto.” Naturally her voice is still developing and changing. “I’m a puppy growing into my skin,” she admits. “But even if I am a puppy, I still have a lot to say as an artist, and I want to do that to the best of my ability.”

She’s nothing if not committed to her life in opera; it’s not as if temptation hasn’t come her way. When she moved to New York, offers arrived from the directors of soap operas as well as opera houses. “My manager said, ‘If you leave opera for three years and become a famous actress, then come back, you’ll still be younger than anyone else.’ And I just said, ‘Are you kidding? I can’t be off the stage for three years.’ I’ll die if I’m not on stage! The itch is stronger than me. And I’m glad. I hope it never dies.”

She needn’t worry. With her Covent Garden debut in Handel’s Acis and Galatea next season, another Cleopatra at Glyndebourne in 2009 and a dream coming true when she works with her heroine Dame Kiri te Kanawa later this summer, it doesn’t look as if de Niese will be off the stage at all for quite some time. As for her off-stage association with Glyndebourne, she wisely refuses to speculate on what the future may hold.


L’incoronazione di Poppea is at Glyndebourne from 18 May. Box office: 01273 815000

Masterclass with Andras

"Silence is the most beautiful thing in music..."

In case you were wondering,

...here's why the Sokolov situation is so deeply depressing. Just try this.

Sokolov makes a stand

Here in Britain we can scarcely help but recognise that we live in a society increasingly driven by surveillance, paranoia and infantilisation, but even so I was shocked to read in today's Indy this leading article about one of the world's most miraculous pianists, Grigory Sokolov, who is refusing to come and play here because he hasn't the time to deal with the latest spate of UK visa idiocy.

The issue is explained at greater length here.

In the article, a spokesperson says:

"Some artists just can't quite handle that sort of intrusion into their music. For someone like Sokolov, who languished behind the Iron Curtain for years and his career in the West started very late, having suffered at the hands of that regime, to find all this obstruction to playing in a country he's played in for 18 years is very distressing."

More uncomfortable news, too:

The visa regulations are soon due to change again to a points-based system, raising more concerns over the cost of entry to the UK for classical musicians, who are often poorly paid. Atholl Swainston-Harrison of the International Artist Managers' Association, said: "Our concern is that, in the classical music world, many acts are not well-paid. With the cost of a visa, it's not going to be worth coming to the UK." Iama is campaigning for visas to be extended from one year to two to cut costs.

It can take a great artist, rather than a politician, to speak up about unpalatable home truths. I will shortly post a link to my recent interview with Krystian Zimerman, just out in Pianist magazine, who utters some very strong words about why he doesn't intend to go to America for a while.

(Update: here is my article from International Piano about Sokolov, from Sept 06)

A big day at the Beeb

Such is the excellence of our national broadcaster's communicative power that it managed to schedule two of its biggest music-biz bashes for the very same day (yesterday). First, the waterborne BBC Music Magazine Awards went off with the usual splash on the Thames. There's a full list of winners here, and I can promise that there are some absolutely fantastic recordings to sample on it.

Among them: Mitsuko Uchida's Beethoven 'Hammerklavier' (which scooped Record of the Year too), Natalie Dessay and Emmanuelle Haim getting a Handel on Il trionfo del Tempo e Disinganno, tenor genius Mark Padmore in more Handel, the Jerusalem Quartet in Shostakovich, Martha Argerich in more Shostakovich, Poulenc's Dialogues des Carmelites on DVD, and much more.

And don't forget to check out the runners-up. Voting between the final three can be a close thing, involving flying fur and chocolate biscuits in meltdown in the bowels of the Beeb's conference rooms (I remember well from last year), and very often the other two are just as deserving of a prize. For instance, this year's instrumental category shortlist also featured Steven Isserlis's stupendous Bach Cello Suites and JDCMB favourite Rachmaninov-player Rustem Hayroudinoff making total magic out of the Etudes-Tableaux.

Don't get me started on the issue of more deserving discs that, generally speaking, don't make shortlists, or longlists, because some critic somewhere might have preferred to give five stars to something second-rate yet English (I am not alleging that this took place this year, since I wasn't there, but it's something that does occur in the British music press from time to time). This line-up is a worthy list and I look forward to feasting on the ones I haven't yet heard.

Meanwhile, over at the Proms Launch in South Kensington, apparently there were scenes outside the Royal Albert Hall when Nigel Kennedy turned up to play his violin (watch him here, courtesy of, er, Hello Magazine). Yes, he will be back at the Proms at last (after 21 years), to perform the Elgar Concerto, conducted by Tod Handley. And after the rave reviews he got for his recent rendition of it in the RFH, I wanna be there.

We hear that Murray Perahia is also to perform in the series for the first time in something like 20 years (you wonder where he's been all this time...and then start thinking about all the other great musicians who have also not been there for 20 years...or ever...) and that Barenboim and the West-Eastern Divan Orchestra will give two concerts. Vaughan Williams features in a big way to mark the 50th anniversary of his death, as does Messiaen for his centenary (on the organ), and Helene Grimaud, piano virtuoso and a stunning-looking lady well suited to the cameras, has made it to the last night. There's also to be a Dr Who Prom. Is this a step up from Michael Ball? I'll reserve judgment until the night. Oh, and there's a folky Prom involving a spot of Maypole dancing.

I didn't make the Proms launch party, because the absolute priority last night was listening to Tasmin Little and Piers Lane giving a terrific recital together at Cadogan Hall, that undersung star of London concert halls. Bravo, chaps - your Elgar Sonata had me succumbing to serious snuffles, and we won't forget the 'Banjo and Fiddle' encore in a hurry!

Mad props meanwhile to Blogged, which has rated this blog 8.6 on the Sviatoslav Richter scale; Classical Music Magazine, which sent its estimable Hornblower along to the Hungarian Dances launch and kindly put in a picture and report on the Diary page (featuring Solti the cat, naturally); Pliable on the Overgrown Path, who featured Korngold and some wonderful pictures of Bruges the other day; and some marvellous Hungarians doing interesting things in Budapest, of which more, I hope, soon.