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December 2004 Archive

Monday, December 27

Memorable Moments 2004

My Top Dozen Most Memorable Moments from the Velvet Seat in 2004:
  • Tristan und Isolde Los Angeles Philharmonic (Salonen cond.)

  • Elektra Cleveland Orchestra (Welser-Moest cond.)
  • Salome Metropolitan Opera (Gergiev cond.)

  • Parsifal Act II Cleveland Orchestra (Boulez cond.)
  • Das Rheingold (Ring Cycle III) (Levine cond.)
  • Thomas Quasthoff with the NY Philharmonic (Muti cond.)
  • La Fanciulla del West OONY
  • Italiana in Algeri Metropolitan Opera (Levine cond.)

  • Queen of Spades Metropolitan Opera (Jurowski cond.)
  • Juan Diego Florez NY Recital debut
  • Ring Cycle I (Levine cond.)
  • Die Zauberflote Metropolitan Opera (Levine cond.)

10:36 AM | Comments ( 0 )

Monday, December 20

Renata Tebaldi Dead at 82

We're sure you already know, but just in case…

Tebaldi

Sorry if we don't have much to say today.

7:31 AM | Comments ( 0 )

Wednesday, December 15

Origins of Trrill

A couple quick things about Trrill. We've noticed that a lot of other sites are listing Trrill on their links lists and blogrolls. There seem to be varying takes on how to refer to us. If you care at all, you're welcome to list this site as, simply, Trrill. Capital-T, without the ".com". I know how it must bug some people to have an all lowercase name sitting in your sidebar when the rest of the links are capitalized properly. We just like the lowercase-T for the logo. It's purty. Ernestine Schumann-Heink in Speaking of the logo, a few people have enquired about the origins of the site's name and tagline, as well as the sound sample that used to play in concert with the opening of the main page. The inspiration and source of all of it was a recording of the Austrian contralto, Ernestine Schumann-Heink, singing the Brindisi from Lucrezia Borgia. Schumann-Heink made her operatic debut at the age of seventeen [singing Azucena, no less], had a repertoire of approximately 150 roles, was a regular at the Met from 1898 to 1903, and sang her farewell from that theater in 1932 [aged 71]. She was charmingly energetic and generous with the public, especially during the war. Here she is with the Brindisi in 1903, at the height of her talent and fame. She recorded the aria more than once [in a chewy German translation], but this recording is the less familiar Columbia Studios version with piano accompaniment. Note the easy and reflexive use of the chest tones, the accuracy and plumminess of the turns, the messa di voce from 2:01 to 2:08, and the real inspiration [and source of the first opening sound sample] for this site—the buoyant, even trill at 2:15. Plus, the accent in her spoken introduction just makes ya wanna eat gingerbread and have perfect posture.

MP3 Download Ernestine Schumann-Heink - Brindisi from Lucrezia Borgia.

More Schumann-Heink links:

1:26 PM | Comments ( 0 )

Tuesday, December 14

Actually Amazing

Currently expending work hours with:
  • Erik Satie's "A Day in the Life of a Musician". Satie recounts his daily schedule down to the minute (including his "various occupations [of] fencing, reflection, immobility, visits, contemplation, dexterity, natation, etc."), his diet, and his comportment and habits ("I breathe carefully (a little at a time) and dance very rarely. When walking I hold my ribs and look steadily behind me."). We should all be so OCD.
  • The High C, a survey of the extremes of pitch in human vocalization, with sound samples ranging from the contrabasso work of Russian choral music to the highest note in audio-recorded history (four G#'s above middle C) by Mariah Carey, with mostly opera in between. One of the 'tweens is Mado Robin, who sings a B3 [at tracktime 2:49] in this portion of the Lucia di Lammermoor mad scene:

    MP3 Download Mado Robin - "Spargi d'amaro pianto."
      MP3 [48 kbps] | 1.12 MB
  • This photo:

    Bush's zipper problem

2:03 PM | Comments ( 1 )

Saturday, December 11

Met Broadcast: I Vespri Siciliani 12.11.04

Every December is the same. Rev up, read up, throw up. Despite plenty of research of libretto and tracklistings, one of two things usually happens:
  • Reel 2 ReelI get everything arranged, get all the equipment set to capture the first Met broadcast of the season. I begin a flawless recording only to find that the singing "doesn't translate well." Naturally I place the blame on the bad singing. Everyone else says it's the broadcast compression. But it's like watching those awful reunions of Real World cast members, where someone objects to some episode with, "I didn't really say that" and then the black girl goes, "Yes you really did." So-and-so may sound good in the house, but what we're hearing on the broadcasts is what's really coming out of the mouths of those on stage. And what comes out of their mouths makes its way onto a tape or CD that I've created, and I get really anxious and regretful that I spent my time on such filth.
  • I can't seem to get my sh*t together or can only get some of it together. Meanwhile, an absolutely unforgettable performance is taking place. And no matter how far away that showstopping aria is, I just can't find the proper cables or a good signal. I miss my chance, fumbling like a highschool freshman with some chick's bra strap. No recording, partial recording, bad recording. I suck.
Today something else happened—a little combination of both. So many semi-quasi-pseudo-high-tech-ish options nowadays, you know. A little freeware software, some digging around. I was ready. A little flub on my part left me with a recording of only a little of the first half of the broadcast. Not a big deal, since almost all of the singing was disappointing. And what a shame; there's something exotic about Vespri—the music, the Lifetime TV based-on-a-true-story flavor of it. Luckily, Sieglinde was liveblogging the peformance for all who never want to forget every excruciating but hilarious moment. Vespri imgThen, after a cute intermission with talk of sex changes and the contextually incontinent Peter Allen, everyone came back to the stage for Acts IV and V with noticeably more grace and gusto than before. And no matter the problems in the voices elsewhere [Radvanovsky's low notes playing peek-a-boo, uncharacteristic voice movements from Ramey, barking from Nucci, and pinching from Casanova], everything was distilled to near perfection with Sondra's moving "Arrigo, ah parli a un core."

MP3 Download Sondra Radvanovsky - "Arrigo, ah parli a un core."
Zipped MP3 [128 kbps] | 5.78 MB



Arrigo! ah! parli a un core
Già pronto al perdonare;
Il mio più gran dolore
Era doverti odiare!
Un'aura di contento
Or calma il mio martir
Io t'amo! e quest'accento
Fa lieto il mio morir!
Gli odi ci fûr fatali
Al cor che indarno spera:
Di sangue i tuoi natali
Poser tra noi barriera!
Addio! ne attende il cielo!
Addio! mi serba fè!
Io moro! e il mortal velo
Spoglio, pensando a te.


This was impassioned, intelligent singing, and anyone listening in is just eavesdropping on the plaintive whispers between Radvanovsky and Frédéric Chaslin's baton. Clearly one audience member heard something that the rest of us didn't, as evidenced by the ranchero hoot 'n' holler just before the applause. Is this one for Charlie's Madness? Sondra Radvanovsky in Vespri SicilianiThe bolero left a lot to be desired in terms of accuracy of the ornaments and the actual quality of the pitches [Good riddance, chest voice! Good afternoon, ye frightening high E-natural!]. Still, imagine experiencing this in the house this aria [this opera, for that matter] that is almost never performed and seems only to appear on a few recital discs [Take these children to school, Renée. Maria? Um, Rosa, f*ck yes.]. But, haw: still a thrill [anyone else dare to quote Jody Watley in an opera weblog?]… and clearly the audience loved it.


Zipped MP3 [128 kbps] | 4.15 MB

Mercè, dilette amiche,
di quei leggiadri fior;
il caro dono è immagine
del vostro bel candor!
Oh! fortunato il vincolo
che mi prepara amore,
se voi recate pronube
voti felici al core!
mercè del don, ah! sì!
O caro sogno, o dolce ebbrezza!
d'ignoto amor mi balza il cor!
Celeste un'aura già respiro,
che tutti i sensi inebbriò.

O piagge di Sicilia
risplenda un dì seren,
assai vendette orribili
ti laceraro il sen!
Di speme colma e immemore
di quanto il cor soffri,
iil giorno del mio giubil sia
di tue glorie il dì.
Gradisco il don di questi fior, ah sì!
O caro sogno, o dolce ebbrezza!
d'ignoto amor mi balza il cor!
Celeste un'aura già respiro,
che tutti i sensi m'inebbriò.

Now, I hesitate to say it, but I believe I can get everything in order to bring a proper review of next week's Tannhäuser. Of course, Ms. Lovelace has become the final word on Debbie… or at least unofficial spokesperson for the 80[-ish?] pounds. Stategic press conferences, one-liner t-shirts [OMG, Brit!!!], and workout videotape to follow. EDIT: Vilaine Fille has much more to say on the Vespri. As always, well-thunk and well-said. I, on the otherhand, tend to be terse, with a low threshhold for sub-par singing. I don't go for the analytical, critical attack. I just go for the attack. You sing or you suck, yea or nay. I guess that's why she's the writer, and I'm the singer.

12:47 PM | Comments ( 3 )

Friday, December 10

Franco Corelli - Sfolgorò divino raggio [Poliuto]

With what seems to be strep throat or just the plain flu, the tissues of my thoat have swollen slighty, so when I descend my larynx to sing or swallow, there's a slight clicking sound akin to the cracking of knuckles. The feverish mid-day naps and the shivering, staggering trip to the doctor have undone my ability to form detailed, coherent thoughts for you. I apologize.

Speaking of fever-inducing and throat-swelling, have a listen:

Download Franco Corelli - "Sfolgorò divino raggio."

One of my favorite Corelli moments, from the 1960 performances of Donizetti's Poliuto that brought Maria Callas back to La Scala. While she scored points for her dramatic turn as Paolina, Franco Corelli brought the vocal fireworks to the title character, despite some critics' having called him vulgar. Here, Poliuto is ruminating over the idea that Paolina has been unfaithful to him ("Veleno è l'aura ch'io respiro"), when a Christian interrupts to tell him that their leader, Nearco, has been taken in chains to the Temple of Jupiter and Poliuto must come help free him. Poliuto is inspired by a divine light from God ("Sfolgorò divino raggio") to renounce his vengeance and show forgiveness.
Sfolgorò divino raggio;
Da' miei lumi è tolto il velo…
Voce santa come il cielo
Di perdono a me parlà!
Obliato è già l'oltraggio;
Più vendetta il cor non chiede…
Dio quest'anima mi diede,
Pura a Dio la renderà, etc.

You don't absolutely have to listen to all of the track. Not to say that Corelli isn't excellent throughout; he's his usual swaggering, smouldering, heroic self, and the voice is gorgeous. But really, this performance is about one thing—the penultimate high C at 3:57, where he says "F*ck vowel modification and all that crap that choir directors say about attacking the pitch from above." Call it unrefined; call it tasteless. But at least he had balls. This is the Corelli wind-up at its best and most thrilling.

8:56 AM | Comments ( 0 )

Tuesday, December 7

Fanciulla Schmanciulla

[Editor's note: As today is the first day of Hanukkah, it seems there's been a new splintering of the minds in our transient croisées. A new diva has emerged from the same dissociative pit as Grisi, Leyla, and Hilli. Enter Mme. Gioconda Verkakte-Gemischt. She's told me that sometimes Trrill isn't quite florid enough, so she's broken away from her clownish sisters to begin offering counterpoint on various issues. Think of Mme. Gioconda Verkakte-Gemischt (call her "Kak" for short) as the Anne Coulter of opera—all the icy words, none of the frigidity. Oh G*d!]

Madame would like to issue forth a few words on the matter of The Cowboy and the Mieskeit, and Madame would like an audience. So gather 'round, children, if you must.

Gioconda attended, no doubt about it, the same Fanciulla as the rest of you, but is mystified at the response. Well, no. Not mystified, knowing what any freshman does about the psychology of groups, but bemused just the same. Yes, on balance, Millo has a gratifying instrument. Gioconda does not these days eat red meat, but seems to recall that the sensation of biting into a thick-cut steak had something to do with the experience of hearing Millo's assertive middle register. And these days it is a rare sound she makes, or medium rare anyway.

So this is not to be your typical solipsistic "the emperor has no clothes" diatribe in which a left-out feeling listener trashes everything about a singer he doesn't get, but man does not live by meat alone and really, the woman gets a pass on an awful lot of things. That is what we find tiresome, along with perhaps the compulsory air of the hysteria that surround her (can it really be that several people shushed a bravo for one of the other singers? It can be we in the cheap seats heard it!)

And can Millo's high notes seriously have been described, albeit by one of her less-than-critical cronies, as golden? There was a pleasant frisson just before the first of them, watching the wind-up, and then hearing what was, as planned, a B [or is it a C? I have no idea.] Nobody but the worst of us wants to hear a disaster, but who can deny the excitement of knowing one might occur? The rest were, perhaps a bit surprisingly, all just as solidly on pitch, but high note after high note what Millo delivered was a sound that from anyone else would have been described as screaming. Loud is nice; we all like it, but it needs side dishes. These were just car-horn loud, and not much else to recommend them.

Hildegard Behrens at the awarding of the Orphée d'Or de l'Academie du Disque Lyrique - Prix Herbert von Karajan April 8, 2003 at the amphitheatre of the Opéra Bastille, ParisThere's more to arte than voce, and here's the real conundrum for Madame G: Millo fans are exactly, but exactly, the ones that get on, let's say Hildegard Behrens, to pick a nigh historical example, for looking frumpy. Here was frump galore, and not a whisper about it. Madame would never pick on people for their looks, but this was about comportment and self-presentation and the like. The inevitable phrase is "no gay friends" but this we know for a fact not to be the case. Well, not even a change of gowns between acts!

And now we arrive at the real point. Gioconda made to faire le promenade like anyone else at these events, and chatted with an opera scene eminence who shall remain nameless. "Why," we cried, "can I not get into the spirit of this with everyone else?" "Because," said our clever friend, "she's just such a big drag queen; it's impossible to take her seriously."

And this, we are certain, is the problem. Larger-than-life gestures come in two flavors: those made in a moment of larger-than-life feeling that comes from singing larger-than-life music, and those manufactured for the queens in standing room. The former, well that's the reason Gioconda likes to go to the opera. The latter? That's just cheap Mildred Pierce stuff—that's camp.

12:21 PM | Comments ( 0 )

Monday, December 6

Angela Meade: Met Regional Audition Winner

I wish I felt like writing a whole lot today, but I'm just a little taken aback by my experience at the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions for the Pacific Northwest Region. Having attended the District round, I was expecting a little more quality from the Regional level. Unfortunately, the singing was subpar with the exception of three singers. The format of the auditions require a second, third, and fourth place with a single first place winner selected to compete in the MONC semi-finals in New York. Yesterday saw a rare event—the selection of two first prize winners. Both of them were overwhelmingly the best singers there. The audience knew it, the judges knew it, and hell… I'm sure they knew it, too.

But the true winner, in my book, was soprano Angela Meade, who lives in Los Angeles now but grew up in the Northwest. Now, it's not everyday that someone chooses "Casta Diva" for serious study and performance, much less for an audition, where there are so many factors for failure. But at the District level, after having heard her first two measures, I knew Angela would be headed for New York. Here is her performance yesterday:

MP3 Download Angela Meade singing "Casta Diva… Ah! bello a me ritorna."
Zipped MP3 [128 kbps] | 7.19 MB



Oh, right. She sings the cabaletta. Wait, I'm sorry. She sings the F*CK out of the cabaletta. The little flub is (I imagine) just a little timing glitch with accompanist, who is the on-hand accompanist for those singers who don't bring their own. Still, I don't think I need to say much about Ms. Meade's work. All the turns, the glissandi, the re-iterations of the A's on top, a true messa di voce tossed in where appropriate. The vocal line is spun seamlessly and effortlessly (one lady in the row behind me asked, "How does she just stand there without working at all and that amazing sound pours out?" Well, dear, that's how it's supposed to be done!). The glorious high C at the end shook even the most uninitated listener to the core; and the foyer and smoking alcove outside were abuzz. This is fine singing, at any level. For it to be coming from a 27-year-old is proof that mature singing doesn't necessarily come with advanced age. My long-lost cousin Giuditta Pasta debuted at age 17.

For her second selection, the judges chose for Angela the Queen of the Night's first Aria in The Magic Flute. I wondered if the judges chose "O zitt're nicht" simply to compare the sound and style to the way the other Queen's aria, "Der hölle Rache," was sung by another contestant. The difference was, of course, remarkable. Where the other was tinny, constricted, uneven, and inflexible, Meade brought absolute beauty and power in each of the three sections of her aria. The recitative is delivered with clarity and absolute grace; listen to "Du bist unschuldig, weise, fromm" ("You are innocent, wise, pious.")—the meaning of each word married to and reflected in the sound of the voice. The "Zum Leiden" and "Du wirst" sections are stunning for the evenness of the voice throughout the entire range. At 1:47 in the recording, you can hear the voice swell gently, preparing for the descent into a perfectly-placed chest note, where the meaning of "Bösewicht" ("scoundrel") is found. The soft singing from 2:26 to 3:05 is exquisite. I'll let the coloratura section speak for itself. Angela has a large voice, but it is absolutely fluid, accurate, and exciting. This is how I imagine this music was sung originally—with full body and full throat.

+ Download Angela Meade singing "O zitt're nicht… Zum Leiden."
Zipped MP3 [128 kbps] | 4.48 MB

The crowd thought they'd been wowed by the Bellini, but they went absolutely bananas after this. The judges must've recognized the expectional performance because they called her back out from the wings to ask her to offer a section of the Faust Jewel Song. A third selection? That sort of thing rarely happens, but I think everyone wanted to hear more. Ms. Meade begins, per the judge's request, at "Achevons la métamorphose."

MP3 Download Angela Meade singing "Ah… je ris de me voir" (excerpt).
Zipped MP3 [128 kbps] | 2.19 MB



Oh look! Real trills! Not flutters, not tremolos. Joyous singing, joyous onstage comportment. And a joyous fag screaming his head off at the end of each of her selections [you've heard, I'm sure]. I don't blame him; my heart was racing at the end, too. I haven't been so excited by singing in a long time. I hope we'll be hearing much more from Angela in the future. It's about time "coloratura soprano" started really meaning something thrilling, rather than being an excuse for shrill tops notes, whiny middle notes, absent low notes and whole lot of onstage antics. I think Meade opened some ears and eyes yesterday. This is the beginning of a beautiful thing.

11:17 AM | Comments ( 4 )

Friday, December 3

Angela Brown on Tee-Vee

Oh, you were right ! Soprano Angela Brown will be featured on the CBS Weekend News during the 6 o'clock news hour on Sa, December 5. Brown will also sing Wednesday [in place of the ailing Fantini] her final Aida in the Met's run, which has scored her some acclaim—even some heralding her the next Leontyne Price. Anyone wanna take a guess why? I'll tell you one thing: it's not her voice. Oh, come on. Isn't anyone else annoyed and offended by the ridiculous pandering that press engages in when it comes to non-white persons in the arts? What's the big deal? Surely these people have done their homework and discovered Sissieretta Jones, who was affectionately known as "the Black Patti." Maybe people have forgotten about Marian Anderson, Martina Arroyo, Leona Mitchell, Jessye Norman, and the soprano whose name I dare not speak? Speaking of, is anyone going to see the Diva Next Door tonight?

3:05 PM | Comments ( 0 )

Friday, December 3

Rodelinda Curtain Call 12.02.04

These pictures are now third-hand, but I suppose I should give thanks to an anonymous friend of dear Sieglinde Lovelace. Digital pictures mean no more greasy poutine smudges. But they also mean no control over lighting and focus. Enjoy!

1) Entire cast behind, production team taking their bows.



Cast, from L to R: Relyea, Mehta, Van Rensburg, Bicket (c), Fleming, Daniels, Blythe, Zachary Vail Elkind (Flavio, Bertarido & Rodelinda's son); in front center, director Stephen Wadsworth.

2) Fleming with a bouquet of roses.



3) David Daniels.



4) As the curtain falls.

1:42 PM | Comments ( 0 )

Thursday, December 2

Met: Rodelinda 12.02.04

Boys and babes, Mother Hilli is back from the dead; sincere apologies to the Western World and those anonymous thousands who read us at work. Atlanta got to be a crowded, so I thought I'd escape on a holiday.

Regrettably, Outer Mongolia doesn't see much Handel, so I just had to fly back to New York tonight to hear the lovely Metropolitan's weird sensation of the year—our dear Renee's Rodelinda (interestingly as rare the big city as it is in Mongolia) which, I'm glad to repeat, features countertenors (which we got lots of in Mongolia: the traditional kind—still into eununchs and such after all these centuries). More on my return later [including exclusive pics]. I'm here to telegraph to y'all the insane success of the entire cast. Beginning with Queen Rodelinda Renée Fleming, whom everyone secretly wishes would bomb an evening so they can tell their loser friends that they were there, but who doesn't bomb ever, which annoys the scandal fanciers, I'm sure. She's an automatic success. I'm counting the debut of Kobie van Rensburg as a success. The three bitches Stephanie Blythe (Eduige), David Daniels (Bertarido), and Bejun Mehta (Unulfo) provided the requisite inhuman vocal calisthenics, and boy did they all exude hormones (testosterone, estrogen, progesterone, respectively). Nothing excites Hilli more than women trapped in men's bodies singing like women dressed as men, and vice versa. John Relyea (Garibaldo) is hot. In the production, he mounts a horse, so of course it follows that we should say he's a stud on a stud. His singing, from what I gathered the few moments I wasn't glued to the old opera glasses, nearly lived up to his looks.

The artistic braintrust headed by Stephen Wadsworth got an unusually warm reception during their curtain calls (Hilli has a few things to say about it, but maybe the rant will have to wait till after a second viewing), as did the debuting maestro Harry Bicket, who has an exquisite sense of the baroque. I'm spent, boys and babes. Now go read the raves on Opera-L… or just skip to someone with taste, restraint, and wit.


Check back for a more fleshed-out look at the production and some more reactions.

11:07 PM | Comments ( 0 )

Thursday, December 2

Bouts in the Blögôsphère

1:45 PM | Comments ( 0 )

Thursday, December 2

Piero Cappuccilli - È gettata la mia sorte

Some days you don't need to go dredging the depths of the internet to find something relevant to write about or discuss. Some days all you need is 1-minute 26-second mp3 to revive your overriding desire to share with other people the strangest, most exhilirating, most difficult and variable artform the human race has yet conjured—opera.

Piero Cappuccilli signing autographs.It's easy to get excited about sopranos' Violettas and Toscas or tenors' Radamèses and Rodolfos, but what about baritones? There's a good handful, if you look in the right place: Bastianini's "Nemico della patria" or Cornell MacNeil's rise to the high A-flat at the end of "Oh de' verd'anni miei," but here's something that might top them all in terms of return on a very risky investment. A live Attila [Verdi], presumably from 1975 at La Scala. Piero Cappuccilli, as Ezio, interpolates a stunning high B-flat at the end of his cabaletta. Sherrill Milnes does a similar thing on an RCA recording, but things like this are always better live for one fairly distinct reason: you get to hear people go nuts for it. You wonder why we bemoan a decline in singing nowadays? Take a listen and prepare to die.


Download Piero Cappuccilli -È gettata la mia sorte.
Zipped MP3 [48 kbps] | 497 KB
È gettata la mia sorte,
Pronto sono ad ogni guerra;
S'io cadrò da forte,
E il mio nome resterà.
Non vedrò l'amata terra
Svenir lenta e farsi a brano…
Sopra l'ultimo romano tutta Italia piangerà.



Many, many thanks to Charlie Handelman for the sample.

10:50 AM | Comments ( 1 )

Wednesday, December 1

San Francisco Opera Lawsuit

Mira, o Norma Jean! a lawsuit brought on San Francisco Opera by the singers, dancers, and production staff of the company regarding everything from the requisite performances in a Runnicles 50th birthday bash to differences over Runnicles' pay.

Quote of the week goes to Carol Vaness:
Ms. Vaness sharply disputed the union's characterization. She said it was common not to use typical contracts for such galas, and that the singers felt no pressure. "Every single person at that gala that I know - and I knew just about everybody - was there with great respect for Donald Runnicles," she said. "I even popped out of a cake!"


Oooh, Carol, girl. Hope you weren't nakey, but we'd love to see your Salomé sometime!

2:37 PM | Comments ( 0 )