... or birth ... or ... whatever. The Lincoln Center Library for the Performing Arts is celebrating with an exhibition and special programming. Part of the special programming includes the LPA Cinema Series: BBC Shakespeare. I decided to take some 'me' time and attend a couple of comedies.
On Tues., April 5, I saw "As You Like It" from 1963, with a breakout performance (per many critics) by Vanessa Redgrave. She was wonderful, as was the entire production. It was adapted, I believe, for BBC Television broadcast, so it was most likely Shakespeare Lite. (Yes, I have a Complete Shakespeare here in the apartment – no, I have not read it cover to cover and certainly have not memorized it all.) Suffice it to say that this comedy hit many of the high points, in a nicely conceived teleplay.
I skipped "King Lear" with Ian Holm, though now I think I might have enjoyed the experience. Anyway, on April 26, I saw "Taming of the Shrew," part of a Shakespeare Retold series. Starring Shirley Henderson (a feisty, sprightly actress in this role), it was a delightful 2005 comedy. You know what? It's nice to laugh out loud in a movie screening, even if you miss a bit of the dialogue that follows. And here, you could actually hear others laughing—and you had a feeling of community.
Yes, this is the same place I see/hear silent comedies with piano accompaniment. It's nice seeing/hearing talkies, too. I imagine that both the 1963 "As You Like It" and the 2005 "Taming of the Shrew" are available online? streaming? Netflix? public library (gasp!)? I say, take a look if it sounds like they interest you.
And Happy Deathday (yikes!), Will!
Friday, April 29, 2016
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Highlights from The Magic Flute (4/2/16)
Highlights from The Magic Flute
And other Mozart arias
All right, I sort of broadened my horizons and had an OK time. Opera is not always my favorite, and Mozart is not always my favorite, but the vocalists from the Juilliard School’s Marcus Institute for Vocal Arts did put on a good show.
The afternoon started off with three arias from Le nozze di Figaro. An aria from
Die Entführung aus dem Serail was scratched (the soprano was suffering from a cold, though we didn’t get that information until much later in the concert, a bit of bad form on the library’s management front). Two arias from Don Giovanni followed.
Se vuol ballare, from Figaro, was sung by bass-baritone Cody Quattlebaum, who sang with a good, natural, deep sound. He sang well but his stage comportment was slightly lacking. Amanda Lynn Bottoms, mezzo-soprano, sang Voi che sapete. In introducing her character from the opera, she described a “crazy little teenager.” Some of that came through while, vocally, she seemed to be hiding behind the mask of her sound. I’ve been guilty of that myself in the past; you’re so concerned about producing a good, focused sound that you end up not singing freely. But these are students, and I think that they’ll continue to grow into themselves as performers. Deh vieni non tardar, also from Figaro, was sung by soprano Angela Vallone, who had a better connection with her vocal sound, and had pretty good to very good vocal control.
Deh, vieni alla finestra, from Don Giovanni, was sung by baritone Xiaomeng Zhang who sang nicely but seemed once again to be trying to be an opera singer rather than trying to be a singer. I almost got the feeling that he was auditioning, not performing. Mind you, these are really tiny quibbles—all of the singing was of a really high quality. Rebecca Farley, soprano, sang Batti batti o bel Masetto, also from Don Giovanni. I enjoyed it even though the accompaniment essentially doubling the vocal line was a little disconcerting. Oh, and a phone went off during the aria. Can I get a “sheesh?”
At this point there was a brief interval—not really an intermission, and not really explained to us. What followed were highlights from Die Zauberflöte, with a narration of the plot delivered by Evan Leslie, of the Library for the Performing Arts. And the vocals were also sung against a backdrop of slides depicting costume and stage designs for various productions of Magic Flute, taken from the recently opened exhibit at the Library. The narration went very nicely, with a few bobbles, and the slides were interesting although, for the most part, the large screen they were projected on was mostly blank—slightly odd, in that the slides only took up about one-third of the screen.
Baritone Dimitri Katotakis sang selections from the role of Papageno. The semi-staging and mime were done well, and he sang with a good, natural sound. He was joined by Pamina (Ms. Farley) in a cute duet, Bei Männern, welche Lieben fühlen. It was at this point, where the famous Queen of the Night aria was supposed to be performed, that we finally learned of the reason we hadn’t heard from the soprano who had been scheduled to sing two earlier arias. Ms. Farley then acquitted herself nicely with Ach, ich fühl’s, which was pleasant, though there were a few vocal technical glitches.
Mr. Katotakis then returned with Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen, a sort of male version of a spinning song (miming a music box?) that was more like an art song than an aria. I liked it. Papageno’s suicide aria, Papagena…Papagena, followed, in a nice, straightforward performance. Mr. Katotakis was joined by Ms. Vallone in the duet, Pa-pa-pa, which was enjoyable, and a great way to cap off the end of the afternoon. A shout out is welcome at this time for Valeriya Polunina, who was the able accompanist/collaborator with all of the afternoon’s vocalists.
So, did the afternoon inspire me to rush out and find a performance of the full Zauberflöte? It did not. Nor, for that matter, Figaro or Don Giovanni. But I did enjoy hearing these young singers in a well-thought-out afternoon of arias and duets.
ConcertMeister
And other Mozart arias
All right, I sort of broadened my horizons and had an OK time. Opera is not always my favorite, and Mozart is not always my favorite, but the vocalists from the Juilliard School’s Marcus Institute for Vocal Arts did put on a good show.
The afternoon started off with three arias from Le nozze di Figaro. An aria from
Die Entführung aus dem Serail was scratched (the soprano was suffering from a cold, though we didn’t get that information until much later in the concert, a bit of bad form on the library’s management front). Two arias from Don Giovanni followed.
Se vuol ballare, from Figaro, was sung by bass-baritone Cody Quattlebaum, who sang with a good, natural, deep sound. He sang well but his stage comportment was slightly lacking. Amanda Lynn Bottoms, mezzo-soprano, sang Voi che sapete. In introducing her character from the opera, she described a “crazy little teenager.” Some of that came through while, vocally, she seemed to be hiding behind the mask of her sound. I’ve been guilty of that myself in the past; you’re so concerned about producing a good, focused sound that you end up not singing freely. But these are students, and I think that they’ll continue to grow into themselves as performers. Deh vieni non tardar, also from Figaro, was sung by soprano Angela Vallone, who had a better connection with her vocal sound, and had pretty good to very good vocal control.
Deh, vieni alla finestra, from Don Giovanni, was sung by baritone Xiaomeng Zhang who sang nicely but seemed once again to be trying to be an opera singer rather than trying to be a singer. I almost got the feeling that he was auditioning, not performing. Mind you, these are really tiny quibbles—all of the singing was of a really high quality. Rebecca Farley, soprano, sang Batti batti o bel Masetto, also from Don Giovanni. I enjoyed it even though the accompaniment essentially doubling the vocal line was a little disconcerting. Oh, and a phone went off during the aria. Can I get a “sheesh?”
At this point there was a brief interval—not really an intermission, and not really explained to us. What followed were highlights from Die Zauberflöte, with a narration of the plot delivered by Evan Leslie, of the Library for the Performing Arts. And the vocals were also sung against a backdrop of slides depicting costume and stage designs for various productions of Magic Flute, taken from the recently opened exhibit at the Library. The narration went very nicely, with a few bobbles, and the slides were interesting although, for the most part, the large screen they were projected on was mostly blank—slightly odd, in that the slides only took up about one-third of the screen.
Baritone Dimitri Katotakis sang selections from the role of Papageno. The semi-staging and mime were done well, and he sang with a good, natural sound. He was joined by Pamina (Ms. Farley) in a cute duet, Bei Männern, welche Lieben fühlen. It was at this point, where the famous Queen of the Night aria was supposed to be performed, that we finally learned of the reason we hadn’t heard from the soprano who had been scheduled to sing two earlier arias. Ms. Farley then acquitted herself nicely with Ach, ich fühl’s, which was pleasant, though there were a few vocal technical glitches.
Mr. Katotakis then returned with Ein Mädchen oder Weibchen, a sort of male version of a spinning song (miming a music box?) that was more like an art song than an aria. I liked it. Papageno’s suicide aria, Papagena…Papagena, followed, in a nice, straightforward performance. Mr. Katotakis was joined by Ms. Vallone in the duet, Pa-pa-pa, which was enjoyable, and a great way to cap off the end of the afternoon. A shout out is welcome at this time for Valeriya Polunina, who was the able accompanist/collaborator with all of the afternoon’s vocalists.
So, did the afternoon inspire me to rush out and find a performance of the full Zauberflöte? It did not. Nor, for that matter, Figaro or Don Giovanni. But I did enjoy hearing these young singers in a well-thought-out afternoon of arias and duets.
ConcertMeister
Friday, April 1, 2016
Songbook – March 2016 (3/28/16)
Featuring Lyricist Jill Abramovitz
First off, all of the performers were great: Jill Abramovitz, Joy Son (piano), Arielle Jacobs, Jessica Vosk, F. Michael Haynie, Michael Winther, Barbara Anselmi (piano), Alex Gemignani, Lisa Howard, Kevin Pariseau, Dana Steingold, Kate Wetherhead, Aron Accurso (piano), Mairi Dorman-Phaneuf (cello), and Andrew Potenz (cajon).
As I’ve mentioned in the past, a Songbook that focuses on lyrics is somewhat difficult to comment on—the lyrics sometimes get overshadowed by the music. Here, they were on equal footing for the most part. Ms. Abramovitz’ collaborators included Ms. Son, Brad Alexander, Mr. Accurso, and Ms. Anselmi.
Ms. Abramovitz kicked things off wither own rendition of Happy, a somewhat manic treatment of a wedding called off because the groom-to-be is gay. It was fun, and she gave off a little bit of a Carol Burnett vibe, to me.
Three songs from Bread and Roses followed. Put Me to Work had nice driving rhythms and a good approach to storytelling. Listen Please was powerful, if a bit stereotypical. And Building 646 had similar driving rhythms heard in Put Me to Work. I must say that I am not familiar with the movie Bread and Roses, but these songs seemed interesting.
A stand-alone song, Turning the Corner, was next, that had an inherent
sadness, yet with a nice feeling. Mr. Winther did a great job of getting this brand new song across. Brand new as in only completed on the day of the performance! Ms. Abramovitz scored big with What They Never Tell You from It Shoulda Been You. It must be a thrill to sing your own song from a Broadway show—
especially one that was Tyne Daly’s in the show.
Four songs from The Dogs of Pripyat followed, based on a true story of the lives of dogs surviving the Chernobyl atrocity. Join the Pack was a real treat—I even managed to jot down some lyrics: “Feel the lurking of the wolf within.” I especially liked the madrigal section that then morphed into an up tempo, power ballad feel. An ensemble of five singers provided excellent backup and collaboration with
Mr. Gemignani. The Little Guy had the high energy of yappers, while Almost Autumn featured a beagle, a mutt, and a human, and, after a lovely quiet opening, had interweaving stories and lines that worked really well, creating some beautiful harmonies. I Was Better Off Without You closed out the Dogs set, and was the tale of a cat and a dog on a quest for a catfish. I’m not making this up, you know.
Another stand-alone song, Gene Rosen, was inspired by and written for
Gene Rosen, who was a true hero in the aftermath of the Sandy Hook shootings.
Mr. Winther gave a very moving performance, and it turns out that Mr. Rosen was at the concert. It’s not every day one gets to hear about a true hero in song, while the hero is there in the room. The repeating sentiment throughout the song was “’Cause your heart’s too big for your house.”
Written as a micro-musical, 11:07 was a nifty take on the “dreams really can come true” theme when the guy of a couple, singing with his wife, has his dream come true—to sing a song with Ann Harada, of Avenue Q fame. Ta-dah! Ms. Harada made an appearance, and much humor ensued.
The final song of the evening was Kind of Crazy, and if I got my notes written correctly it will be the final song of the final episode of this season of Submissions Only (which I had to look up online—yeah, I’m that much out of touch). The lyric that stuck with me was, “Your kind of crazy goes just perfectly with mine.” Ms. Vosk did a fine job, and was joined by some of the others from the evening’s performances, truly turning it into a full-blown finale. The variety of Ms. Abramovitz’ lyrics spread out between four different composers made for a compelling evening of new theater (and stand-alone) songs. There are two more Songbooks in this year’s series. I plan on being there!
ConcertMeister
First off, all of the performers were great: Jill Abramovitz, Joy Son (piano), Arielle Jacobs, Jessica Vosk, F. Michael Haynie, Michael Winther, Barbara Anselmi (piano), Alex Gemignani, Lisa Howard, Kevin Pariseau, Dana Steingold, Kate Wetherhead, Aron Accurso (piano), Mairi Dorman-Phaneuf (cello), and Andrew Potenz (cajon).
As I’ve mentioned in the past, a Songbook that focuses on lyrics is somewhat difficult to comment on—the lyrics sometimes get overshadowed by the music. Here, they were on equal footing for the most part. Ms. Abramovitz’ collaborators included Ms. Son, Brad Alexander, Mr. Accurso, and Ms. Anselmi.
Ms. Abramovitz kicked things off wither own rendition of Happy, a somewhat manic treatment of a wedding called off because the groom-to-be is gay. It was fun, and she gave off a little bit of a Carol Burnett vibe, to me.
Three songs from Bread and Roses followed. Put Me to Work had nice driving rhythms and a good approach to storytelling. Listen Please was powerful, if a bit stereotypical. And Building 646 had similar driving rhythms heard in Put Me to Work. I must say that I am not familiar with the movie Bread and Roses, but these songs seemed interesting.
A stand-alone song, Turning the Corner, was next, that had an inherent
sadness, yet with a nice feeling. Mr. Winther did a great job of getting this brand new song across. Brand new as in only completed on the day of the performance! Ms. Abramovitz scored big with What They Never Tell You from It Shoulda Been You. It must be a thrill to sing your own song from a Broadway show—
especially one that was Tyne Daly’s in the show.
Four songs from The Dogs of Pripyat followed, based on a true story of the lives of dogs surviving the Chernobyl atrocity. Join the Pack was a real treat—I even managed to jot down some lyrics: “Feel the lurking of the wolf within.” I especially liked the madrigal section that then morphed into an up tempo, power ballad feel. An ensemble of five singers provided excellent backup and collaboration with
Mr. Gemignani. The Little Guy had the high energy of yappers, while Almost Autumn featured a beagle, a mutt, and a human, and, after a lovely quiet opening, had interweaving stories and lines that worked really well, creating some beautiful harmonies. I Was Better Off Without You closed out the Dogs set, and was the tale of a cat and a dog on a quest for a catfish. I’m not making this up, you know.
Another stand-alone song, Gene Rosen, was inspired by and written for
Gene Rosen, who was a true hero in the aftermath of the Sandy Hook shootings.
Mr. Winther gave a very moving performance, and it turns out that Mr. Rosen was at the concert. It’s not every day one gets to hear about a true hero in song, while the hero is there in the room. The repeating sentiment throughout the song was “’Cause your heart’s too big for your house.”
Written as a micro-musical, 11:07 was a nifty take on the “dreams really can come true” theme when the guy of a couple, singing with his wife, has his dream come true—to sing a song with Ann Harada, of Avenue Q fame. Ta-dah! Ms. Harada made an appearance, and much humor ensued.
The final song of the evening was Kind of Crazy, and if I got my notes written correctly it will be the final song of the final episode of this season of Submissions Only (which I had to look up online—yeah, I’m that much out of touch). The lyric that stuck with me was, “Your kind of crazy goes just perfectly with mine.” Ms. Vosk did a fine job, and was joined by some of the others from the evening’s performances, truly turning it into a full-blown finale. The variety of Ms. Abramovitz’ lyrics spread out between four different composers made for a compelling evening of new theater (and stand-alone) songs. There are two more Songbooks in this year’s series. I plan on being there!
ConcertMeister
Friday, March 18, 2016
Ben Bliss, Tenor; Lachlan Glen, Piano (3/12/16)
Saturday’s enjoyable song recital was part of the Neighborhood Concerts, presented by Carnegie Hall. This particular series of concerts is also part of the Marilyn Horne legacy at Carnegie Hall, though Ms. Horne was not in attendance.
Pioggia – Ottorino Respighi (1879–1936)
Malinconia, ninfa gentile; Vanne, o rosa fortunata; Ma rendi pur contento – Vincenzo Bellini (1801–1835)
Nebbie – Respighi
At the Railway Station, Upway; Sally in our Alley; At the mid hour of night; Sail on, sail on – Benjamin Britten (1913–1976)
Sonetto XXIV: Spirito ben nato, from Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo, Op. 22 – Britten
Pace non trovo, from Tre sonetti di Petrarca, S. 270 – Franz Liszt (1811–1886)
Una furtive lagrima, from L’elisir d’amore – Gaetano Donizetti (1797–1848)
Soupir; Phidylé – Henri Duparc (1848–1933)
Hébé, Op. 2, No. 6 – Ernest Chausson (1855–1899)
L’heure exsquise, from Chansons grises – Reynaldo Hahn (1874–1947)
Down in the river to pray – Traditional
Smoke gets in your eyes – Jerome Kern (1885–1945)
Orange Colored Sky – Milton Delugg (1918–2015); Willie Stein (1917–2009)
I really liked Ben Bliss’ nice, clear sound, and Lachlan Glen provided great support (in fact collaboration for/with both of them) throughout the entire concert. The opening Respighi had a rippling accompaniment and the song was almost, but not quite, operatic. And very enjoyable. I was completely unfamiliar with Respighi as a song composer (more on that later). All three of the Bellini songs were also very good, with Vanne, o rosa fortunata being my favorite. The second Respighi song had a bell-like accompaniment and effective vocal lines of essentially ascending and descending phrases, up the scale and back down.
After a short break, the four Britten songs were sung—sort of a cobbled together song cycle, according to Mr. Bliss. At the Railway Station made good use of the Thomas Hardy text, and had touches of jazz and broken phrases, but there were also recognizable (to me) Britten touchstones. Sally in our Alley had a folk song feel, with some vocal filigree and a very charming ending. At the mid hour of night was a straightforward setting of two verses of text that were subdued but still full of love. Sail on, sail on had a rocking rhythm—a rocking boat, that is—and the text spoke of a journey that continues on sea or land. There was a lovely fading away of the accompaniment at the end.
After another short break, Britten’s Sonetto opened with solo piano followed by an a cappella section for the tenor. There was a nice building of tension followed by a formidable and dramatic denouement. The Liszt (another composer whose song output was completely unknown to me) was a hybrid of Romantic, Classical, and Lieder that morphed into an operatic-style treatise on love.
Donizetti’s aria, which was actually familiar to me, opened the second half of the concert, and it was a good rendition. The Duparc, Chausson, and Hahn songs were all pleasant, if a bit too much the same in terms of style and sentiment, and they paled a bit after the Donizetti. The order of the beginning of the second half of the concert is (almost) my only quibble with the entire afternoon.
The traditional spiritual that followed a brief break was also totally unfamiliar to me, and was interesting, if a little simple. Also, I’m not sure I heard all of the lyrics correctly or whether Mr. Bliss perhaps didn’t sing them correctly—they were printed in the program and displayed as supertitles. That said, Mr. Bliss’ singing in the various languages presented—Italian, French, and English—was very good, and I always appreciate good clear diction when hearing English being sung.
Smoke gets in your eyes and Orange Colored Sky veered into pseudo-cabaret/pop/jazz style, and I felt that maybe both performers were trying a bit too hard to shed the mantle of serious performers. I like a bit of fun now and then, myself, but these last two songs seemed slightly too forced, in terms of styling. Once again, just a minor quibble.
A selection from The Queen of Sheba was sung as an encore, in French, I believe, and my quick Yahoo! search yields operas by both Charles Gounod and Reynaldo Hahn, so I’m not really sure what I heard. It was pleasant and relatively brief. The audience seemed to want more, so Messrs. Bliss and Glen reprised the Donizetti aria. I must confess that I exited as it was beginning; I did not feel the need to hear it again. But I really did like the entire performance, quibbles aside, and I think that Mr. Bliss has a voice that will be heard more and more in the future. [Edited to add: He will be performing at the Metropolitan Opera on Saturday night, April 30, 2016.]
Twofer Time
I also attended a screening of Max Roach Studio silent comedies earlier in the afternoon and had a thoroughly wonderful, laugh-out-loud time. Lots to do, see, and hear in NYC, and I’m very grateful for that!
ConcertMeister
Pioggia – Ottorino Respighi (1879–1936)
Malinconia, ninfa gentile; Vanne, o rosa fortunata; Ma rendi pur contento – Vincenzo Bellini (1801–1835)
Nebbie – Respighi
At the Railway Station, Upway; Sally in our Alley; At the mid hour of night; Sail on, sail on – Benjamin Britten (1913–1976)
Sonetto XXIV: Spirito ben nato, from Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo, Op. 22 – Britten
Pace non trovo, from Tre sonetti di Petrarca, S. 270 – Franz Liszt (1811–1886)
Una furtive lagrima, from L’elisir d’amore – Gaetano Donizetti (1797–1848)
Soupir; Phidylé – Henri Duparc (1848–1933)
Hébé, Op. 2, No. 6 – Ernest Chausson (1855–1899)
L’heure exsquise, from Chansons grises – Reynaldo Hahn (1874–1947)
Down in the river to pray – Traditional
Smoke gets in your eyes – Jerome Kern (1885–1945)
Orange Colored Sky – Milton Delugg (1918–2015); Willie Stein (1917–2009)
I really liked Ben Bliss’ nice, clear sound, and Lachlan Glen provided great support (in fact collaboration for/with both of them) throughout the entire concert. The opening Respighi had a rippling accompaniment and the song was almost, but not quite, operatic. And very enjoyable. I was completely unfamiliar with Respighi as a song composer (more on that later). All three of the Bellini songs were also very good, with Vanne, o rosa fortunata being my favorite. The second Respighi song had a bell-like accompaniment and effective vocal lines of essentially ascending and descending phrases, up the scale and back down.
After a short break, the four Britten songs were sung—sort of a cobbled together song cycle, according to Mr. Bliss. At the Railway Station made good use of the Thomas Hardy text, and had touches of jazz and broken phrases, but there were also recognizable (to me) Britten touchstones. Sally in our Alley had a folk song feel, with some vocal filigree and a very charming ending. At the mid hour of night was a straightforward setting of two verses of text that were subdued but still full of love. Sail on, sail on had a rocking rhythm—a rocking boat, that is—and the text spoke of a journey that continues on sea or land. There was a lovely fading away of the accompaniment at the end.
After another short break, Britten’s Sonetto opened with solo piano followed by an a cappella section for the tenor. There was a nice building of tension followed by a formidable and dramatic denouement. The Liszt (another composer whose song output was completely unknown to me) was a hybrid of Romantic, Classical, and Lieder that morphed into an operatic-style treatise on love.
Donizetti’s aria, which was actually familiar to me, opened the second half of the concert, and it was a good rendition. The Duparc, Chausson, and Hahn songs were all pleasant, if a bit too much the same in terms of style and sentiment, and they paled a bit after the Donizetti. The order of the beginning of the second half of the concert is (almost) my only quibble with the entire afternoon.
The traditional spiritual that followed a brief break was also totally unfamiliar to me, and was interesting, if a little simple. Also, I’m not sure I heard all of the lyrics correctly or whether Mr. Bliss perhaps didn’t sing them correctly—they were printed in the program and displayed as supertitles. That said, Mr. Bliss’ singing in the various languages presented—Italian, French, and English—was very good, and I always appreciate good clear diction when hearing English being sung.
Smoke gets in your eyes and Orange Colored Sky veered into pseudo-cabaret/pop/jazz style, and I felt that maybe both performers were trying a bit too hard to shed the mantle of serious performers. I like a bit of fun now and then, myself, but these last two songs seemed slightly too forced, in terms of styling. Once again, just a minor quibble.
A selection from The Queen of Sheba was sung as an encore, in French, I believe, and my quick Yahoo! search yields operas by both Charles Gounod and Reynaldo Hahn, so I’m not really sure what I heard. It was pleasant and relatively brief. The audience seemed to want more, so Messrs. Bliss and Glen reprised the Donizetti aria. I must confess that I exited as it was beginning; I did not feel the need to hear it again. But I really did like the entire performance, quibbles aside, and I think that Mr. Bliss has a voice that will be heard more and more in the future. [Edited to add: He will be performing at the Metropolitan Opera on Saturday night, April 30, 2016.]
Twofer Time
I also attended a screening of Max Roach Studio silent comedies earlier in the afternoon and had a thoroughly wonderful, laugh-out-loud time. Lots to do, see, and hear in NYC, and I’m very grateful for that!
ConcertMeister
Thursday, March 10, 2016
She Walks in Beauty (3/5/16)
Songs by Women Composers
Aram Tchobanian, tenor; Tamara Cashour, pianist; with special guest
Alma Hamilton, composer/pianist
Aram Tchobanian has a pleasant voice, but was slightly under the weather on Saturday afternoon (in fact, one song was dropped from the program). In honor of International Women’s Month, he curated and performed this event with music from the 9th through the 21st centuries—all by women composers. The earliest, by Kassia and Hildegard von Bingen (1098–1179), were snippets of a cappella chant, as a precursor to Gregorian chant. Throughout the afternoon, he peppered the performance with interesting snippets of conversation.
Next we heard O Deathe, rock me asleep, by Anne Boleyn (1501–1536) — yes, the Anne Boleyn of Henry VIII infamy. The song had an ethereal, simple quality, with effective accompaniment, reminiscent of John Dowland. Names I knew followed, in Clara Wieck Schumann (1819–1896) and Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel (1805–1847). Interestingly, it was recounted that some of Fanny Mendelssohn’s output appeared as the work of her brother, Felix, and that early on in the marriage of Clara to Robert Schumann, he was referred to as Mr. Wieck. Her music was better known at the time. Both works, Lorelei (Schumann) and Verlust (Hensel) were firmly in the dramatic lieder style, and both quite enjoyable.
Pauline Viardot-Garcia (1821–1910) was represented by Madrid, with a definite feel for Spain, in the rhythms and motifs, though with a text set in French. A Scottish feel was provided via Marjory Kennedy-Fraser (1857–1930) and her The Peat-Fire Flame, Aignish on the Machair, and The Reiving Ship. The first had a folk song feel to it, while the accompaniment for the second was like gentle, pealing bells—indeed, the text dealt with coming to terms with death. After a ringing cell phone was silenced (really, people? really?), The Reiving Ship was an energetic setting of the text.
A sing-along followed, and was even fun! Nora Bayes (1880–1928) was responsible for the music to Shine On, Harvest Moon. Mr. Tchobanian sang the verses and we joined in on the chorus. Who knew that the original lyrics were, “I ain’t had no lovin’ since April, January, June or July.” I certainly didn’t. Nameless, by Sirvart Karamanuk (1912–2008) was in the style of an Armenian folk song, as Mr. Tchobanian, who is Armenian, informed us.
Episodes, by Alma Hamilton (b. 1947), was a nice song cycle—She Walks in Beauty; To Citriodora; Go, Lovely Rose; Never Give All the Heart;
Oh, When I Was in Love with You—that went from gentle and effective, through to energetic and then jarring, but ending rather brightly, with the message that even in rejection, there is no dejection.
Jacqueline Steiner (b. 1924) and Bess Lomax Hawes (1923–2009) rounded out the afternoon with another sing-along (not familiar to me). Charlie on the M.T.A. (The M.T.A. Song) was apparently popularized by the Kingston Trio. It was a rather humorous account of a fare increase on the Boston subway, where, in order to get off of the subway if you took an outlying route, you had to pay an extra nickel. Alas, poor Charlie never could. My favorite verse was:
“Charlie’s wife goes down / To the Scollay Square station / Every day at quarter past two;
And through the open window / She hands Charlie a sandwich / As the train comes rumblin’ through.”
All in all, it was a really enjoyable, and informative, afternoon, and a great way to celebrate International Women’s Month.
Aram Tchobanian, tenor; Tamara Cashour, pianist; with special guest
Alma Hamilton, composer/pianist
Aram Tchobanian has a pleasant voice, but was slightly under the weather on Saturday afternoon (in fact, one song was dropped from the program). In honor of International Women’s Month, he curated and performed this event with music from the 9th through the 21st centuries—all by women composers. The earliest, by Kassia and Hildegard von Bingen (1098–1179), were snippets of a cappella chant, as a precursor to Gregorian chant. Throughout the afternoon, he peppered the performance with interesting snippets of conversation.
Next we heard O Deathe, rock me asleep, by Anne Boleyn (1501–1536) — yes, the Anne Boleyn of Henry VIII infamy. The song had an ethereal, simple quality, with effective accompaniment, reminiscent of John Dowland. Names I knew followed, in Clara Wieck Schumann (1819–1896) and Fanny Mendelssohn Hensel (1805–1847). Interestingly, it was recounted that some of Fanny Mendelssohn’s output appeared as the work of her brother, Felix, and that early on in the marriage of Clara to Robert Schumann, he was referred to as Mr. Wieck. Her music was better known at the time. Both works, Lorelei (Schumann) and Verlust (Hensel) were firmly in the dramatic lieder style, and both quite enjoyable.
Pauline Viardot-Garcia (1821–1910) was represented by Madrid, with a definite feel for Spain, in the rhythms and motifs, though with a text set in French. A Scottish feel was provided via Marjory Kennedy-Fraser (1857–1930) and her The Peat-Fire Flame, Aignish on the Machair, and The Reiving Ship. The first had a folk song feel to it, while the accompaniment for the second was like gentle, pealing bells—indeed, the text dealt with coming to terms with death. After a ringing cell phone was silenced (really, people? really?), The Reiving Ship was an energetic setting of the text.
A sing-along followed, and was even fun! Nora Bayes (1880–1928) was responsible for the music to Shine On, Harvest Moon. Mr. Tchobanian sang the verses and we joined in on the chorus. Who knew that the original lyrics were, “I ain’t had no lovin’ since April, January, June or July.” I certainly didn’t. Nameless, by Sirvart Karamanuk (1912–2008) was in the style of an Armenian folk song, as Mr. Tchobanian, who is Armenian, informed us.
Episodes, by Alma Hamilton (b. 1947), was a nice song cycle—She Walks in Beauty; To Citriodora; Go, Lovely Rose; Never Give All the Heart;
Oh, When I Was in Love with You—that went from gentle and effective, through to energetic and then jarring, but ending rather brightly, with the message that even in rejection, there is no dejection.
Jacqueline Steiner (b. 1924) and Bess Lomax Hawes (1923–2009) rounded out the afternoon with another sing-along (not familiar to me). Charlie on the M.T.A. (The M.T.A. Song) was apparently popularized by the Kingston Trio. It was a rather humorous account of a fare increase on the Boston subway, where, in order to get off of the subway if you took an outlying route, you had to pay an extra nickel. Alas, poor Charlie never could. My favorite verse was:
“Charlie’s wife goes down / To the Scollay Square station / Every day at quarter past two;
And through the open window / She hands Charlie a sandwich / As the train comes rumblin’ through.”
All in all, it was a really enjoyable, and informative, afternoon, and a great way to celebrate International Women’s Month.
Monday, March 7, 2016
Songbook (2/29/16)
Featuring Composer/Lyricist Nick Luckenbaugh
February’s edition was pretty good—but not boffo. I liked some of the concepts, many of which dealt with fairy tales and princesses, though not all of them hit the mark. And compositionally, there was a bit of a sameness—starting the song fairly low in the singer’s range, sitting around there for a couple of phrases and then expanding the range and power. It just seemed too hard to get the songs off the ground this way. As always, this is just my opinion. There were some top-notch performers, all of whom were volunteering their time, quite a few on their evenings off from their current Broadway gigs. With 17 songs on the program, here are some of my highlights.
Up Here, from Royal Fables, and sung by Theresa Burns, was a take on Rapunzel that was her account of hearing all of nature, and the differences between being up in her tower as opposed to being down on the ground. It had a nice a cappella opening that then built into a light rock style. Also from Royal Fables, and sung here by Kacie Sheik, How Love Should Go was interesting, if a little too country for me. The affectation of singing country often leads to the text being sort of chewed up (vowels being manipulated) making the lyrics hard to understand, especially on a first hearing. Some of the fables were not as well known to me, including The Twelve Dancing Princesses, which was represented by Demon Dance, performed here by Madeline Fansler. It was a very effective dark waltz of seduction.
A stand-alone song, Baxter, sung by Daniel Everidge, was the story of a Hollywood actor who everyone forgets. Everybody knows Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart, and then there’s Baxter, whose lyrics and sentiments were encapsulated in, “Always silver, never gold for me.” But what’s this? A turnaround? Hey! A Baxter can win! Mr. Everidge was a terrific performer who also shone earlier in the program in The Seduction. Alas, my notes only say, “Fun, nice performance.”
Unravel You was based on a Russian fairy tale where a princess is essentially previewing possible husbands, yet no one seems to make the final cut. It was a power ballad but with a fun, rock-style rhythm. As sung by Ali Stroker, this was a princess who was totally in charge.
The finale, of sorts, was from a Norwegian fairy tale, East of the Sun and West of the Moon. World’s End was sung by Kathleen Monteleone (with Theresa Burns, Madeline Fansler, and Raina Helen Fraley) and was a return to country/rock style, in a song that spoke of facing adversity but never giving up. The backup singers had some nice harmonies in the more rousing sections—even including the good ol’ audience participation clap-along portion (not my favorite).
The accompaniments included piano, percussion, and guitar. Not being a huge fan of guitar, this may have been one of the reasons that I wasn't bowled over. Songbook is always an enjoyable evening, but this one didn’t make it for me as compared to many of the previous iterations I’ve attended. I’ll definitely be going back, though, because it’s always good to hear new composers and ideas.
ConcertMeister
February’s edition was pretty good—but not boffo. I liked some of the concepts, many of which dealt with fairy tales and princesses, though not all of them hit the mark. And compositionally, there was a bit of a sameness—starting the song fairly low in the singer’s range, sitting around there for a couple of phrases and then expanding the range and power. It just seemed too hard to get the songs off the ground this way. As always, this is just my opinion. There were some top-notch performers, all of whom were volunteering their time, quite a few on their evenings off from their current Broadway gigs. With 17 songs on the program, here are some of my highlights.
Up Here, from Royal Fables, and sung by Theresa Burns, was a take on Rapunzel that was her account of hearing all of nature, and the differences between being up in her tower as opposed to being down on the ground. It had a nice a cappella opening that then built into a light rock style. Also from Royal Fables, and sung here by Kacie Sheik, How Love Should Go was interesting, if a little too country for me. The affectation of singing country often leads to the text being sort of chewed up (vowels being manipulated) making the lyrics hard to understand, especially on a first hearing. Some of the fables were not as well known to me, including The Twelve Dancing Princesses, which was represented by Demon Dance, performed here by Madeline Fansler. It was a very effective dark waltz of seduction.
A stand-alone song, Baxter, sung by Daniel Everidge, was the story of a Hollywood actor who everyone forgets. Everybody knows Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart, and then there’s Baxter, whose lyrics and sentiments were encapsulated in, “Always silver, never gold for me.” But what’s this? A turnaround? Hey! A Baxter can win! Mr. Everidge was a terrific performer who also shone earlier in the program in The Seduction. Alas, my notes only say, “Fun, nice performance.”
Unravel You was based on a Russian fairy tale where a princess is essentially previewing possible husbands, yet no one seems to make the final cut. It was a power ballad but with a fun, rock-style rhythm. As sung by Ali Stroker, this was a princess who was totally in charge.
The finale, of sorts, was from a Norwegian fairy tale, East of the Sun and West of the Moon. World’s End was sung by Kathleen Monteleone (with Theresa Burns, Madeline Fansler, and Raina Helen Fraley) and was a return to country/rock style, in a song that spoke of facing adversity but never giving up. The backup singers had some nice harmonies in the more rousing sections—even including the good ol’ audience participation clap-along portion (not my favorite).
The accompaniments included piano, percussion, and guitar. Not being a huge fan of guitar, this may have been one of the reasons that I wasn't bowled over. Songbook is always an enjoyable evening, but this one didn’t make it for me as compared to many of the previous iterations I’ve attended. I’ll definitely be going back, though, because it’s always good to hear new composers and ideas.
ConcertMeister
Wednesday, March 2, 2016
Send in the Clowns (2/26/16)
The silent clowns, that is. Saturday afternoon at the movies featured four silent films, all starring Max Davidson (who was totally new to me).
Call of the Cuckoo (1927)
Should Second Husbands Come First? (1927)
Flaming Fathers (1927)
Pass the Gravy (1928)
From the program notes, I learned that Max Davidson was well into middle age when he came into his own in Hollywood, and didn’t have the grace of a Chaplin, nor the ability to do stunts and falls like Keaton. His comedic focus was his face and shoulders. At first, I feared that some of his bag-of-tricks shtick would be too repetitive, but that turned out not to be the case. In all four films, the settings and situations were part of what made them so funny. And they were laugh out loud funny quite often. I especially enjoyed Call of the Cuckoo, which featured an early teaming of Laurel and Hardy as half of a foursome of real kooks (hence the Cuckoo in the title). And Ben Model, providing live piano accompaniment, made ample use of the cuckoo-clock motif throughout. Even the sets were funny in this one!
Should Second Husbands Come First? featured Spec O’Donnell, who was also in Cuckoo and Pass the Gravy. He and his brother were trying to stop a man, Davidson, from marrying their widowed mother. They had quite a few sight gags going on behind their mother’s back, designed to scare off the new suitor. Lots of funny goings on.
Flaming Fathers had Davidson getting into quite a lot of trouble at the beach, while trying to keep his daughter from eloping. At one point, there were about twenty little kids following him around through a series of sight gags. It was like Keystone Kids instead of Keystone Kops.
Pass the Gravy centered on a prize-winning rooster who ended up being dinner. Everybody, except for the owner of the rooster, realized that the dinner was the prize winner, and then tried to keep the owner from finding out. It did not work, but lots of funny stuff led up to that final realization.
So, four comedies starring a relatively big Hollywood name of the silent era. One I’d never heard of. Boy, I’m glad I have now. Bruce Lawton spoke warmly about the star of the day, Steve Massa’s program notes were very informative, and
Mr. Model provided the superb accompaniments. Kudos to the Silent Clowns Film Series. Check out their website – www.silentclowns.com – if you’re so inclined.
ConcertMeister
(or, in this case, FilmMeister)
Call of the Cuckoo (1927)
Should Second Husbands Come First? (1927)
Flaming Fathers (1927)
Pass the Gravy (1928)
From the program notes, I learned that Max Davidson was well into middle age when he came into his own in Hollywood, and didn’t have the grace of a Chaplin, nor the ability to do stunts and falls like Keaton. His comedic focus was his face and shoulders. At first, I feared that some of his bag-of-tricks shtick would be too repetitive, but that turned out not to be the case. In all four films, the settings and situations were part of what made them so funny. And they were laugh out loud funny quite often. I especially enjoyed Call of the Cuckoo, which featured an early teaming of Laurel and Hardy as half of a foursome of real kooks (hence the Cuckoo in the title). And Ben Model, providing live piano accompaniment, made ample use of the cuckoo-clock motif throughout. Even the sets were funny in this one!
Should Second Husbands Come First? featured Spec O’Donnell, who was also in Cuckoo and Pass the Gravy. He and his brother were trying to stop a man, Davidson, from marrying their widowed mother. They had quite a few sight gags going on behind their mother’s back, designed to scare off the new suitor. Lots of funny goings on.
Flaming Fathers had Davidson getting into quite a lot of trouble at the beach, while trying to keep his daughter from eloping. At one point, there were about twenty little kids following him around through a series of sight gags. It was like Keystone Kids instead of Keystone Kops.
Pass the Gravy centered on a prize-winning rooster who ended up being dinner. Everybody, except for the owner of the rooster, realized that the dinner was the prize winner, and then tried to keep the owner from finding out. It did not work, but lots of funny stuff led up to that final realization.
So, four comedies starring a relatively big Hollywood name of the silent era. One I’d never heard of. Boy, I’m glad I have now. Bruce Lawton spoke warmly about the star of the day, Steve Massa’s program notes were very informative, and
Mr. Model provided the superb accompaniments. Kudos to the Silent Clowns Film Series. Check out their website – www.silentclowns.com – if you’re so inclined.
ConcertMeister
(or, in this case, FilmMeister)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)