Wigmore Hall
Wolf – Mörike Lieder (selection)
Duparc – L’invitation au voyage
Extase
Lamento
La vie antérieure
Chanson triste
Phidylé
Strauss – Ständchen
Allerseelen
Ruhe, meine Seele
Blauer Sommer
Schlechtes Wetter
Britten – The Ash Grove
O Waly, Waly
La belle est au jardin d’amour
Quand j’étais chez mon père
Poulenc – Banalités: ‘Voyage à Paris,’ ‘Sanglots’
Calligrammes: ‘Voyage’
Dame Felicity Lott (soprano)
Graham Johnson (piano)
Though I have long admired Dame Felicity Lott, both in the theatre and in the concert hall, this was the first time I had attended a recital of hers. I was not to be disappointed. A slightly hesitant opening Begegnung opened the way to a distinguished further selection from Wolf’s Mörike settings: Agnes, Der Gärtner, Heimweh, Das verlassene Mägdlein, An eine Äolsharfe, and finally Er ist’s. Typical clarity of diction, lightness of touch (not in any sense to be confused with lack of commitment), and responsiveness both to words and music were a hallmark of these Wolf songs and indeed the recital as a whole. Storytelling came to the fore in Der Gärtner and Das verlassene Mägdlein, though longing and reflection were just as present here as elsewhere. Graham Johnson proved a powerful presence at the piano, occasional slips in no way vitiating a finely tuned sense of the composer’s harmonic narrative. Wagnerian undertones were skilfully but never heavily brought out by both artists: the Wesendonk-Lieder were not far away at all. But nor was an impression of where Wolf was leading; Strauss and Schoenberg beckoned equally.
For the Strauss Lieder with which the second half opened would prove at least as successful. The qualities that combine to make a fine Marschallin combined here too to present longing without a hint of the lachrymose, charm without a hint of kitsch, verbal acuity, and command of line. If Strauss be a prince of Lieder, then Lott was a princess of their performance. Johnson again did not shrink from emphasising the often surprisingly modernistic harmony in some at least of these settings, though they always, quite rightly, remained within a Romantic context. The post-Rosenkavalier waltzing of Schlechtes Wetter, Strauss as masterful in his irony as Heine, rounded off an exquisite group.
The French song Dame Felicity has so much made her own was an important presence in this recital too. She has Duparc to a tee: the poise, the manner of the verse, the perfumed elegance. The Baudelaire settings, L’invitation au voyage and La vie antérieure, were an especial joy, the latter a master-class from both performers in economy and meaningfulness of climax. Britten featured in English and French. I cannot claim great fondness for his folksong settings. The Ash Grove’s contrary harmonies put me too much in mind of the ‘clever’ reharmonisations in which organ scholars from my undergraduate days would delight – though, in fairness, they surely had Britten’s greater originality in mind. O waly, waly is simply rather dull. Likewise, I should much rather hear the composer’s own melodic invention – and his response to verse – than the two French chansons populaires. There could, however, be no faulting the performances here.
This was equally true of the three Poulenc Apollinaire settings. Once again, the mood was just right: light but tender, and every word clearly and meaningfully – insofar as the idea be appropriate for this poet – discernible. Melancholy cast its spell, without the slightest danger of descent into the maudlin. A couple of encores – Britten’s Shakespeare setting, Tell me where is fancy bred, and Poulenc’s delightful, politically incorrect Hôtel – made one wish for still more. Sadly, my hoped-for Morgen was not to be; I suppose one cannot always hear it in a recital that includes Strauss. Next time, perhaps…
Showing posts with label Dame Felicity Lott. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dame Felicity Lott. Show all posts
Sunday, 11 July 2010
Thursday, 14 May 2009
ECO/Davis - Haydn, Mozart, and Berlioz, 13 May 2009
Cadogan Hall
Haydn – Symphony no.94 in G major, ‘Surprise’
Mozart – Clarinet concerto in A major, KV 622
Berlioz – Les nuits d’été
Antony Pike (clarinet)
Dame Felicity Lott (soprano)
English Chamber Orchestra
Sir Colin Davis (conductor)
This programme seemed to be organised around composers in whose music Sir Colin Davis has long excelled, rather than any particular connections between the works being performed. Sir Colin’s association with the English Chamber Orchestra must extend back for almost half a century. There could be no doubt from this evening’s performances that the players love working with him. It is rather unusual to have the ordering symphony – concerto – song-cycle, but there is nothing wrong with that and it was quite right to save the radiant Dame Felicity Lott until the last.
Davis’s Concertgebouw set of Haydn’s London symphonies remains a failsafe recommendation; I find it almost impossible to choose between it and Eugen Jochum’s recordings with the London Philharmonic Orchestra. (Karajan and Bernstein are certainly no also-rans.) It was therefore with great relish that I looked forward to his performance of the Surprise Symphony, no.94. This was a lighter, perhaps also brighter performance, with a smaller band: the strings throughout the concert were sized 8.6.4.4.2. The Cadogan Hall is not a large venue, so what might have sounded a touch undernourished in, say, the Barbican, did not here. Light and shade were equally apparent in an extremely well-judged introduction to the first movement. Momentary untidiness of ensemble at the opening of the exposition was soon a distant memory; when repeated, there was no such shortcoming. The woodwind struck me as especially fine, a highlight amongst highlights being the oboe trills. A strong bass line, despite the smallness of the section, underpinned rhythm, harmony, and the combination of the two, whilst Davis attended to the symphonic logic, of which there could be no doubt. The slow movement variations brought an equally strong sense of development, if different in kind. Crisp but never dry strings balanced well with ravishing woodwind. There were sterner moments, for instance the turn to the minor mode in the second variation and the ensuing contrapuntal writing, but one could hear Haydn smiling behind such learning. In the third variation, the oboe soloist once again impressed greatly, as did William Bennett’s contribution on the flute. Trumpets imparted a military impression in the next variation, but it was still fun. To my surprise, Davis took the minuet one-to-a-bar. Still, it was never hard-driven and this music is harmonically less complex than late Mozart. Haydn can take such treatment, especially when taken with a swing such as here. The finale was fast but not too fast; the violins sparkled as if their notes were fountain water at Schönbrunn – or, perhaps better, Esterháza. (Yes, I am well aware that the symphony was written for London.) Harmonic security was very much the key to the fizz that accompanied the music; never did it degenerate into a scramble, as too often it can. Drive and grace were shown to be far from antithetical. Most important, there was always a smile upon the face of the music we heard. And how much more natural this sounded than so many, more consciously ‘moulded’, Haydn performances; indeed, I do not think it could have sounded more natural.
If Davis has long been estimable in Haydn, he has reigned supreme in Mozart since the death of Karl Böhm. (When I count the present-day conductors I should positively wish to hear in Mozart, I find myself unable to go beyond five.) I was not, however, entirely convinced by the first movement of the clarinet concerto, which I felt was taken a little too fast. Granted, there were plenty of opportunities for the music – as well as the soloist – to breathe, but the mood seemed unduly lacking in that almost Brahmsian autumnal quality which, for me at least, is one of the hallmarks of so much late Mozart. (Another would be the bewildering dialectic between simplicity and complexity, supremely evident in The Magic Flute.) Antony Pike, himself a member of the ECO, provided a well shaped solo lone, nicely flexible, and inviting of tone. The low notes of his basset clarinet sang out beautifully, although he encountered a few technical problems. I had no qualms whatsoever concerning the slow movement. It was warm, aria-like – was that the Countess I heard? The music was nostalgic but never mawkish, home to true Mozartian ambivalence – how utterly different he is from Haydn! – especially through the orchestral shadows. Here the warming yet fragile rays of the sun upon an autumn afternoon could certainly be felt. Clearly, the musicians loved this music deeply – and how could they not? The finale exhibited an apt sense of play but did not go undisturbed by shadows. Its hunting compound duple rhythm notwithstanding, joy was not nearly so unalloyed as it would have been with Haydn. Yet, if sometimes we were smiling through tears, we were still smiling.
The second half was devoted to Berlioz’s Les nuits d’été. There were occasions here when I felt the lack of a greater body of strings, but they were perhaps surprisingly few. For instance, upon the climatic words of Sur les lagunes, ‘Et comme je l’aimais!/Je n’aimerai jamais,’ the ECO’s strings impressively showed how much strength they really could muster. Their pizzicato palpitations during the haunting – in more than one sense – Le spectre de la rose – were equally fine. There were once again some splendid woodwind solos, and Sir Colin – unsurprisingly – put not a foot wrong, every tempo sounding right, every transition perfectly judged. It was only really in the first song, Villanelle, that the musicians sounded a touch ill at ease, and this should certainly not be exaggerated. Dame Felicity also truly came into her own in its successor, Le spectre de la rose, incalculable wealth of meaning subtly invested in a single word such as ‘virginal’, even if the transformation, such as it was, were only apparent in retrospect; for one could certainly hear a twinkle in her voice on the final line of each stanza in Villanelle. The restlessness of Berlioz’s orchestration in Sur les lagunes was apparent throughout. Lott imparted a grave beauty to Théophile Gautier’s words – and Berlioz’s setting – though never at the expense of style. The very occasional edge to her voice in Absence was irrelevant in the face of such artistry, the repetitions of ‘Reviens, reviens’ ever the same and yet ever different. It should be said that, here as elsewhere, her every word was crystal clear. Au cimetière was properly unsettling, a true child of the strange phenomenon that is French Romanticism. Berlioz’s weird harmonies were never turned into a freak show and therefore emerged all the more meaningfully. And the Romantic expectation that could be conjured from a single word such as ‘éveillée’ (awakened) once again provided an object lesson in vocal artistry. The final song, L’île inconnue, brought the right sense of adventure but also a hint at fears of what the unknown might bring. I especially liked the bubbling woodwind in the final stanza, gently mocking the girl who naïvely wished to be taken to a shore where love might last forever. This was a fine performance indeed.
Haydn – Symphony no.94 in G major, ‘Surprise’
Mozart – Clarinet concerto in A major, KV 622
Berlioz – Les nuits d’été
Antony Pike (clarinet)
Dame Felicity Lott (soprano)
English Chamber Orchestra
Sir Colin Davis (conductor)
This programme seemed to be organised around composers in whose music Sir Colin Davis has long excelled, rather than any particular connections between the works being performed. Sir Colin’s association with the English Chamber Orchestra must extend back for almost half a century. There could be no doubt from this evening’s performances that the players love working with him. It is rather unusual to have the ordering symphony – concerto – song-cycle, but there is nothing wrong with that and it was quite right to save the radiant Dame Felicity Lott until the last.
Davis’s Concertgebouw set of Haydn’s London symphonies remains a failsafe recommendation; I find it almost impossible to choose between it and Eugen Jochum’s recordings with the London Philharmonic Orchestra. (Karajan and Bernstein are certainly no also-rans.) It was therefore with great relish that I looked forward to his performance of the Surprise Symphony, no.94. This was a lighter, perhaps also brighter performance, with a smaller band: the strings throughout the concert were sized 8.6.4.4.2. The Cadogan Hall is not a large venue, so what might have sounded a touch undernourished in, say, the Barbican, did not here. Light and shade were equally apparent in an extremely well-judged introduction to the first movement. Momentary untidiness of ensemble at the opening of the exposition was soon a distant memory; when repeated, there was no such shortcoming. The woodwind struck me as especially fine, a highlight amongst highlights being the oboe trills. A strong bass line, despite the smallness of the section, underpinned rhythm, harmony, and the combination of the two, whilst Davis attended to the symphonic logic, of which there could be no doubt. The slow movement variations brought an equally strong sense of development, if different in kind. Crisp but never dry strings balanced well with ravishing woodwind. There were sterner moments, for instance the turn to the minor mode in the second variation and the ensuing contrapuntal writing, but one could hear Haydn smiling behind such learning. In the third variation, the oboe soloist once again impressed greatly, as did William Bennett’s contribution on the flute. Trumpets imparted a military impression in the next variation, but it was still fun. To my surprise, Davis took the minuet one-to-a-bar. Still, it was never hard-driven and this music is harmonically less complex than late Mozart. Haydn can take such treatment, especially when taken with a swing such as here. The finale was fast but not too fast; the violins sparkled as if their notes were fountain water at Schönbrunn – or, perhaps better, Esterháza. (Yes, I am well aware that the symphony was written for London.) Harmonic security was very much the key to the fizz that accompanied the music; never did it degenerate into a scramble, as too often it can. Drive and grace were shown to be far from antithetical. Most important, there was always a smile upon the face of the music we heard. And how much more natural this sounded than so many, more consciously ‘moulded’, Haydn performances; indeed, I do not think it could have sounded more natural.
If Davis has long been estimable in Haydn, he has reigned supreme in Mozart since the death of Karl Böhm. (When I count the present-day conductors I should positively wish to hear in Mozart, I find myself unable to go beyond five.) I was not, however, entirely convinced by the first movement of the clarinet concerto, which I felt was taken a little too fast. Granted, there were plenty of opportunities for the music – as well as the soloist – to breathe, but the mood seemed unduly lacking in that almost Brahmsian autumnal quality which, for me at least, is one of the hallmarks of so much late Mozart. (Another would be the bewildering dialectic between simplicity and complexity, supremely evident in The Magic Flute.) Antony Pike, himself a member of the ECO, provided a well shaped solo lone, nicely flexible, and inviting of tone. The low notes of his basset clarinet sang out beautifully, although he encountered a few technical problems. I had no qualms whatsoever concerning the slow movement. It was warm, aria-like – was that the Countess I heard? The music was nostalgic but never mawkish, home to true Mozartian ambivalence – how utterly different he is from Haydn! – especially through the orchestral shadows. Here the warming yet fragile rays of the sun upon an autumn afternoon could certainly be felt. Clearly, the musicians loved this music deeply – and how could they not? The finale exhibited an apt sense of play but did not go undisturbed by shadows. Its hunting compound duple rhythm notwithstanding, joy was not nearly so unalloyed as it would have been with Haydn. Yet, if sometimes we were smiling through tears, we were still smiling.
The second half was devoted to Berlioz’s Les nuits d’été. There were occasions here when I felt the lack of a greater body of strings, but they were perhaps surprisingly few. For instance, upon the climatic words of Sur les lagunes, ‘Et comme je l’aimais!/Je n’aimerai jamais,’ the ECO’s strings impressively showed how much strength they really could muster. Their pizzicato palpitations during the haunting – in more than one sense – Le spectre de la rose – were equally fine. There were once again some splendid woodwind solos, and Sir Colin – unsurprisingly – put not a foot wrong, every tempo sounding right, every transition perfectly judged. It was only really in the first song, Villanelle, that the musicians sounded a touch ill at ease, and this should certainly not be exaggerated. Dame Felicity also truly came into her own in its successor, Le spectre de la rose, incalculable wealth of meaning subtly invested in a single word such as ‘virginal’, even if the transformation, such as it was, were only apparent in retrospect; for one could certainly hear a twinkle in her voice on the final line of each stanza in Villanelle. The restlessness of Berlioz’s orchestration in Sur les lagunes was apparent throughout. Lott imparted a grave beauty to Théophile Gautier’s words – and Berlioz’s setting – though never at the expense of style. The very occasional edge to her voice in Absence was irrelevant in the face of such artistry, the repetitions of ‘Reviens, reviens’ ever the same and yet ever different. It should be said that, here as elsewhere, her every word was crystal clear. Au cimetière was properly unsettling, a true child of the strange phenomenon that is French Romanticism. Berlioz’s weird harmonies were never turned into a freak show and therefore emerged all the more meaningfully. And the Romantic expectation that could be conjured from a single word such as ‘éveillée’ (awakened) once again provided an object lesson in vocal artistry. The final song, L’île inconnue, brought the right sense of adventure but also a hint at fears of what the unknown might bring. I especially liked the bubbling woodwind in the final stanza, gently mocking the girl who naïvely wished to be taken to a shore where love might last forever. This was a fine performance indeed.
Tuesday, 17 June 2008
Lott/LSO/Haitink, 15 June 2008
Barbican Hall
Mozart - Symphony no.25 in G minor, KV 183
Strauss - Das Rosenband
Strauss - Wiegenlied
Strauss - Ruhe, meine Seele!
Strauss - Freundliche Vision
Strauss - Die heiligen drei Könige
Strauss - Ein Heldenleben
Dame Felicity Lott (soprano)
London Symphony Orchestra
Bernard Haitink (conductor)
I was not entirely convinced by the programming here. This was the second of the LSO's Mozart and Strauss concerts under Bernard Haitink, part of a larger series vacuously entitled 'Pairs'. (Another 'pair' of composers had been Schubert and Bruckner.) The LSO's management seems a little too keen on these series-for-their-own-sake, since the concert also slotted into the 'Great Conductors' category. No one in his right mind would deny that Bernard Haitink was a great conductor; likewise, no one remotely interested in music would need to be told that he was. In any case, there was a sense of the 'Little' G minor symphony being tacked on to the beginning of a Strauss programme, which might have been better off with, say, Don Juan as a similarly substantial curtain-raiser. Alternatively, we might have heard in addition to the symphony a Mozart concert aria, thus highlighting the symphonic and vocal works of the chosen 'pair' of the composers. Mozart was, of course, a great influence on and inspiration to Strauss, but not especially in the works performed on this occasion.
At any rate, the symphony received a good performance. The orchestra, as in the preceding Mozart-Strauss concert, was perhaps a little more slimmed down than necessary, sounding more like the Academy of St Martin-in-the-Fields than the LSO. That said, there were no irritating 'period' mannerisms, for which we must nowadays be eternally grateful. Tempi were uncontroversial. We should again be most grateful for the fact that Haitink took the Minuet three-to-a-bar. The LSO's woodwind burbled beautifully during the Trio, putting one in mind of the Salzburg - and subsequent - serenades. And the finale was a true Allegro, with enough but never too much Sturm und Drang, to bring the work to a fine conclusion.
That said, there was a distinct transformation of aspiration and achievement in the Strauss items. Felicity Lott did everything one could have asked. She imparted grace, beauty, and line to individually-tailored, truly heartfelt readings of each of her songs. One could discern every single word, so that, although the Barbican had considerately printed texts and translations in the (free) programme, those of us knowing Strauss and/or German never needed them. Hers is not, of course, a Jessye Norman sort of voice, yet there is plenty of potential, fully realised here, to soar above the orchestra when required. The contribution from Haitink and the LSO was truly beyond compare. I have never heard an orchestral contribution so full of lustrous tone and meaning. Several times, perhaps especially during the Freundliche Vision, I was reminded of just how great a Wagnerian Haitink is and how much we miss him. The direction imparted to the songs and the un-self-conscious moulding of the various instrumental lines was an object lesson in something far too elevated to be relegated to the category of 'accompaniment'. The only thing missing was Morgen! To my delight, Lott and Haitink performed it as an encore, which, more or less immediately - not least thanks to guest leader Sebastian Breuninger's exquisite solo - brought tears to my eyes.
Haitink brought all of these qualities - and more - to the fine performance of Ein Heldenleben. Whatever slight acidity the LSO's strings had acquired in the previous concert's Alpine Symphony had now evaporated (or however one might characterise such disappearance). Indeed, all sections of the orchestra were on top form, as once again was the guest leader. I wondered whether his solos were on occasion just a little too wayward, but then thought again: Pauline was more than a little inclined in that direction. It almost goes without saying, but should not, that Haitink proved a sure, symphonic guide to a score that can easily sound sprawling in lesser hands. Here its proportions were almost Classical, albeit with a clear lineage in the colouristic and formal experiments of Liszt's symphonic poems, which Haitink recorded superbly many years ago with the London Philharmonic Orchestra. One is never going to rid Ein Heldenleben of bombast; nor should one even try, since it is integral to the very idea of the composition. (The number of those who somehow fail to appreciate Strauss's irony is legion.) Yet this was never empty display; it was tailored to the musico-dramatic line of one of the very finest of Strauss's symphonic poems, all the sharper for Haitink's predictable yet still laudable refusal to play to the gallery.
Mozart - Symphony no.25 in G minor, KV 183
Strauss - Das Rosenband
Strauss - Wiegenlied
Strauss - Ruhe, meine Seele!
Strauss - Freundliche Vision
Strauss - Die heiligen drei Könige
Strauss - Ein Heldenleben
Dame Felicity Lott (soprano)
London Symphony Orchestra
Bernard Haitink (conductor)
I was not entirely convinced by the programming here. This was the second of the LSO's Mozart and Strauss concerts under Bernard Haitink, part of a larger series vacuously entitled 'Pairs'. (Another 'pair' of composers had been Schubert and Bruckner.) The LSO's management seems a little too keen on these series-for-their-own-sake, since the concert also slotted into the 'Great Conductors' category. No one in his right mind would deny that Bernard Haitink was a great conductor; likewise, no one remotely interested in music would need to be told that he was. In any case, there was a sense of the 'Little' G minor symphony being tacked on to the beginning of a Strauss programme, which might have been better off with, say, Don Juan as a similarly substantial curtain-raiser. Alternatively, we might have heard in addition to the symphony a Mozart concert aria, thus highlighting the symphonic and vocal works of the chosen 'pair' of the composers. Mozart was, of course, a great influence on and inspiration to Strauss, but not especially in the works performed on this occasion.
At any rate, the symphony received a good performance. The orchestra, as in the preceding Mozart-Strauss concert, was perhaps a little more slimmed down than necessary, sounding more like the Academy of St Martin-in-the-Fields than the LSO. That said, there were no irritating 'period' mannerisms, for which we must nowadays be eternally grateful. Tempi were uncontroversial. We should again be most grateful for the fact that Haitink took the Minuet three-to-a-bar. The LSO's woodwind burbled beautifully during the Trio, putting one in mind of the Salzburg - and subsequent - serenades. And the finale was a true Allegro, with enough but never too much Sturm und Drang, to bring the work to a fine conclusion.
That said, there was a distinct transformation of aspiration and achievement in the Strauss items. Felicity Lott did everything one could have asked. She imparted grace, beauty, and line to individually-tailored, truly heartfelt readings of each of her songs. One could discern every single word, so that, although the Barbican had considerately printed texts and translations in the (free) programme, those of us knowing Strauss and/or German never needed them. Hers is not, of course, a Jessye Norman sort of voice, yet there is plenty of potential, fully realised here, to soar above the orchestra when required. The contribution from Haitink and the LSO was truly beyond compare. I have never heard an orchestral contribution so full of lustrous tone and meaning. Several times, perhaps especially during the Freundliche Vision, I was reminded of just how great a Wagnerian Haitink is and how much we miss him. The direction imparted to the songs and the un-self-conscious moulding of the various instrumental lines was an object lesson in something far too elevated to be relegated to the category of 'accompaniment'. The only thing missing was Morgen! To my delight, Lott and Haitink performed it as an encore, which, more or less immediately - not least thanks to guest leader Sebastian Breuninger's exquisite solo - brought tears to my eyes.
Haitink brought all of these qualities - and more - to the fine performance of Ein Heldenleben. Whatever slight acidity the LSO's strings had acquired in the previous concert's Alpine Symphony had now evaporated (or however one might characterise such disappearance). Indeed, all sections of the orchestra were on top form, as once again was the guest leader. I wondered whether his solos were on occasion just a little too wayward, but then thought again: Pauline was more than a little inclined in that direction. It almost goes without saying, but should not, that Haitink proved a sure, symphonic guide to a score that can easily sound sprawling in lesser hands. Here its proportions were almost Classical, albeit with a clear lineage in the colouristic and formal experiments of Liszt's symphonic poems, which Haitink recorded superbly many years ago with the London Philharmonic Orchestra. One is never going to rid Ein Heldenleben of bombast; nor should one even try, since it is integral to the very idea of the composition. (The number of those who somehow fail to appreciate Strauss's irony is legion.) Yet this was never empty display; it was tailored to the musico-dramatic line of one of the very finest of Strauss's symphonic poems, all the sharper for Haitink's predictable yet still laudable refusal to play to the gallery.
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