Tag: Röschmann

Dorothea Röschmann and Mitsuko Uchida / Songs by Schumann and Berg

5119eS-4t8LThis recital is so very, very good that you just sit there stunned and then have to pick yourself up off the floor, regroup and sit there stunned for a little while longer. I heard the live version of this concert at Carnegie Hall last spring; this CD was recorded a few weeks later at Wigmore Hall, and I think the Londoners got the better performance, because again, while what I heard was good, this was utterly amazing. Every note of this performance is alive.

Röschmann and Uchida perform three sets of songs, Schumann’s Op. 39 Liederkreis, Berg’s Seven Early Songs, and Schumann’s Frauenliebe und Leben.

Uchida’s piano playing reveals that the piano part in these songs is not just “accompaniment” but rather a second voice in the piece. She brings out details that I had not registered before – the heartbeat pulse of the piano part in “Intermezzo” in the Leiderkreis, the way the piano lines wrap up the story of witch and wanderer in “Waldesgespräch”, the rushing of the little brook in “In der Fremde” or the simple glow of happiness in “Frühlingsnacht.” I was just listening to bits of the recital again as I write this (sometimes I can figure out what I was talking about in my original chickenscratch notes; other times – as is common with important historical documents – the notes are written in a left-handed scrawl so impenetrably awful that I have to go back and re-create the moment in order to interpret the record) and a second listen does nothing but confirm Uchida’s power to make the piano part speak.

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Röschmann – Mozart Arias

81+KhfgQcILThe material on this album will be familiar to those who caught the concert broadcast version last winter. I knew going in that it would be mostly the same selections, but I wasn’t sure whether Röschmann, Daniel Harding and the Swedish Radio Symphony would record it separately in the studio, or whether the album would be pieced together from the recorded concerts. It’s the latter (minus the piano concerto that the live audience heard). One might not immediately realize that this was a live concert, though – all the audience noises and applause have been removed.

It’s a disc of Mozart arias from roles that Röschmann built her operatic career on – the Countess’s two arias from Figaro, Donna Elvira’s “Mi tradì”, Vitellia’s “deh, se piacer me vuoi” and “non più di fiori” from La Clemenza di Tito. There are also two arias from Idomeneo, one of which die hard Röschmaniacs will have heard her sing before if they’ve got the bootleg of her as Ilia at the Met in 2006, and another of Elettra’s. The program finishes with a concert aria that I had never heard before the broadcast last year, “bella mia fiamma, addio”.

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Dorothea Röschmann and Mitsuko Uchida / Carnegie Hall 4-22-15

This recital almost – almost – brought me around to Schumann’s Frauenliebe und -Leben. Only to the point where I will listen to this cycle if 1) Dorothea Röschmann is singing them 2) live.  I realize that this is a fairly specific set of conditions, but keep in mind that it’s a fairly irritating set of songs. 

But before those, we had Schumann’s Op. 39 Liederkreis and Alban Berg’s Seven Early Songs. I have heard several live recordings of Frau R singing the Liederkreis, and I’ve said my bit about that elsewhere. What marked this performance out for me was Uchida on the piano – there was something slower and more meditative about this performance than those others. “In der Fremde” (the first song) was gentler than I remember, and “Intermezzo” was similarly more relaxed. I also noticed with these first two songs that beginning-of-concert feel where the singer’s voice sort of stretches out and fits itself into the space of the concert hall. Having heard our friend Röschmann in recital in both the smaller Zankel auditorium at Carnegie Hall as well as the bigger main stage, I will say that there is nothing in my memory that quite compares to being in the front row in that smaller space – you miss nothing. That said, I was sitting for the first time in the First Tier in the big hall, and while one might miss a few subtleties of acting, the sound from that part of the auditorium is excellent. If my memory is correct, Röschmann is not on the schedule for Carnegie Hall’s 15-16 season, so I might not hear her voice for a while; part of the pleasure of the Liederkreis for me was just savoring how she sounds. (Including her low notes. Based on a cursory reading of the internet I have gathered that not everyone likes those. I like them. They have a different color than the rest of her voice, and – well, I like them. That’s all.)

That said, my favorite bits of that cycle have not changed, e.g. the ache of the “wie bald, ach wie bald” line in “In der Fremde,” or the last lines of “Waldesgesprach” where the witch reveals to the traveller that he is in the woods for the duration, or – speaking of low notes – the last stanza of “Zwielicht,” especially the “hüte dich, sei wach und munter!” line. In “Die stille” I was reminded again of how she can turn a little song into a miniature opera. 

I had heard the Alban Berg songs before, but I never really absorbed them. Between Röschmann and Uchida I had a sense this time of understanding much better how they work – “Shilflied” and “Die Nachtigall” were particularly beautiful (I have “I get it!” written in the margin of my notes). 

Finally, that other set of Schumann songs. First – a point that emerged with bell-like clarity in “seit ich ihn gesehen” – it’s hard not to like something thing that is sung so beautifully. But what did it for me was something characteristic of Röschmann’s interpretive style. Her performances always come with great force of feeling, and what she did in “er, der herrlichste von allen,” for example, was to take the youthful innocence of the character, the force of the young woman’s love and desire (e.g. in the line “holde Lippen, klares Auge”) and present them so honestly that my resistence to the treacly text was just – knife edge, here – overcome. The same is true of the deep earnestness of the protagonist in “du Ring an meinem Finger.” Throughout the cycle, we’re given the music and text as simply: this is how this young woman feels. And because she (Röschmann) is so in character, it works. Apparently the trick of this cycle is to take it at its word and go with it. And the end of the last song, when the Magic Husband has died – those last lines were quiet, intimate and charged with grief. 

Röschmann and Uchida did two encores, Schubert’s setting of “Nur wer die Sennsucht kennt” and Wolf’s “Kennst du das Land.” I loved Uchida’s playing in the second in particular – especially in the wave of sound before “kennst du es wohl?” and the drawing back afterward. 

I came out of this recital feeling very satisfied. I think I may be experiencing with Röschmann’s song recitals what I have been experiencing with Joyce DiDonato’s opera performances: one is chasing the dragon to some exent, since it’s never going to be quite like the first time, but it’s always worth it. 

Purcell – Dido and Aeneas / Les Violons du Roy / Carnegie Hall 4-12-15

I was reminded of one thing during this concert, and I think I may have learned a second thing. The first is the difference between your average run of the mill good but not stunning soprano voice and your international-stardom-and-obsessive-fanbase-creating voice. Except for Hélène Guilmette (Belinda) and Hank Neven (Aeneas) the other singers in this concert (a series of scenes and arias and instrumental music from Purcell’s operas in the first half, and then Dido and Aeneas after the jump) were also members of the chorus. I registered a series of light pretty soprano and mezzo voices in the various scenes – and then when Frau R sang “oh, let me weep” from The Fairy Queen suddenly every molecule of air in that hall was alive with sound.

It was a difference of volume and color and also a difference in style. One could probably claim with some justification that Röschmann was not operating in quite the same mode as the other singers. This is an opera with cackling witches (ably and humorously sung by Vicki St. Pierre, Lesley Emma Bousa and Shiela Dietrich), a light-hearted sailor song and charming little interlude airs in odd places, like the Second Woman’s “oft she visits” number in the hunt/storm scene. The scene from The Fairy Queen during the first part of the concert, with the belching drunken poet in which the music itself sounds a little drunk to match, or the chaconne from ditto a little later, is from a different opera, but not a different planet. It’s not that Dido and Aeneas isn’t the intended to be serious or moving – the beauty and delicacy of the instrumental music is proof enough of that – it’s just seriousness of a particular style.  And then you’re hit with Röschmann’s “peace and I are strangers” and it’s like whoa where did THAT come from. But of course it’s obvious where it came from : it’s Dorothea Röschmann offering us her whole soul and beating heart from the very first moment of the performance. Whether that is how you like your Purcell is a different question. I am happy to go on record stating that I am more than happy to hear Purcell performed like Strauss if it works – and as far as I’m concerned, in this case it worked.  The duet with Aeneas before he leaves Carthage, which appears in so many musical and textual guises in so many different operatic versions of this story that I have simply tagged it in my head as “Dido and Aeneas are fighting” – whatever you call it, it was electric. And Röschmann’s characteristic  style does not rub the music the wrong way – in both “oh, let me weep” from The Fairy Queen and in Dido’s final lament, the instrumental accompaniment is subtle rather than torrential (in some parts, just the harpsichord, lute and a violin) but it’s more than capable of holding everything that she was pouring into it. (No doubt Richard Egarr, whose harpsichord stylings I have long admired, and Les Violons du Roy had something to do with the this too.)

And by the end, the drama had caught up to the interpretation. Dido* as performed by Frau R operates with this massive emotional force that makes the other characters seem less substantial – not poorly sung by any means, just not as powerful or vibrant, while Dido is just a sort of continuous storm of feeling. The “thy hand, Belinda” recitative that leads into “when I am laid in earth” was incredible – it was suddenly so intimate, and yet the overall scale had not changed: this was big enough for an opera stage but subtle as a song recital, and the way Röschmann shaped the music and text right then was one of those moments where she’s singing in English but it feels and sounds the way her singing does when she’s singing in German. I felt as if I was being shown precisely how opera is created, how something done on so large a scale can also be so subtle.

Stray observations: the scene where Dido and Aeneas are about to fall into one another’s arms – it is unclear to me why Belinda is in the room, other than to urge Dido on. Seems to me like that could get awkard real fast. Also, if you ever wondered how to say “come on, what could go wrong?” in sevententh-century English, I think it’s “fear no danger to ensue.”

After sticking around to clap for a very long time with everyone else, I went over to Alice Tully Hall for a second concert that I do not think I did full justice to as a listener because I was kind of wiped from the first one. This was a song recital by Sarah Connolly. (Where I wolfed a brownie during intermission in order to remain alert and also got to meet some Twitter buddies!)

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*Every time I type “Dido” and then a space, my phone thinks I’m trying to type DiDonato. I guess this is what you might call a textbook case of reaping what you sow.

Monday Lieder Interlude

I was listening to Frau R’s Portraits CD this afternoon. It made me think of the first recital recording of hers I heard – by the end, the intensity of it left me with a pleasant feeling of exhaustion. This recording has the same quality; you get to the end with an awareness of the distance you traveled between the Schubert songs and the Wolf and Strauss. Also, those few bars in “Gretchen am Spinnrade” at about 1.30 (“sein hoher Gang . . .”) where she and Martineau draw out the tempo just a little with the growing drama in the text are one of the best moments in this. I think my colleagues can hear my music through the office walls – I know I can hear theirs sometimes – so my colleague who likes indie rock and alt-country was subjected to about ten minutes of Gretchen on a loop, for which I absolutely refuse to apologize.

vlcsnap-00010And thanks to my mom, a massive box of Haydn string quartets turned up on my doorstep yesterday, along with a toy for Finn. So Finn chewed on his new ball and I listened to Haydn, which for all practical purposes I can do indefinitely; this is probably a good thing, because Haydn wrote 19 CDs worth of string quartets and I haven’t been in the mood for sitting down and listening to much opera lately. This is indicated by the fact that I watched the Decker production of Verdi’s Otello last weekend, and my sole critical reaction was that it seems that Venice was populated primarily by Lord and Lady Whiteadder.

Dorothea Röschmann / Portraits

Dorothea_Ro_schmann_Portraits_Sony_Strauss_Schubert_Wolf_Cover_ArtHearing this recording was a little anti-climactic, in that with the exception of Schumann’s Op. 135 Mary Queen of Scots songs, I already had a sense of how Röschmann interprets this material. The recital moves forward through time, beginning with Schubert songs, then the Schumann, and Strauss and Wolf at the end. I was struck by the same things that I have been in the past with her performances – the way the mood shifts between sets of songs, as well as within songs themselves, and how every phrase has an interpretive role to play. Mary Stuart has a different quality of character than Gretchen or Mignon; and Röschmann gives the Strauss songs, especially “Die Nacht,” a kind of shimmering quality that is distinct from the other selections. I also found myself appreciating Malcolm Martineau’s piano playing, especially in Strauss’s “Schlechtes Wetter” and Schubert’s “Gretchen am Spinnrade,” where he does those repeating patterns in a more prickly sort of way than I often hear; throughout that song, his playing gives me that feeling of the piano part conversing with the vocal line: or maybe not conversing, exactly, but articulating parts of Gretchen’s character and what she is thinking that aren’t in the vocal part alone.

After I listened to this, I thought about the first recording of Röschmann’s I encountered, the Handel Nine German Arias one, and how at the time since I was expecting a more “early music” sound with less vibrato, I didn’t like it – but I realized years later that despite not having a reaction of immediate and overwhelming enthusiasm, I had unwittingly managed basically to memorize the thing, I had listened to it that often. Her voice has changed since then – high notes take more effort, and her intonation can be iffy up there (e.g. in live versions of “Schlechtes Wetter,” though not on this recording as far as I can tell) and I think the sound doesn’t have quite the same gloss as it did ten years ago, but that said, I can and do listen to her sing pretty much anything over and over. Not just the sound of her voice itself (she can still lay out those ringing, bell-like high notes, like in “Die Nacht” when she feels like it; and as I remember feeling when I heard her as the Countess that one time in L.A., there is a quality to the voice in general that just gets me every time) but all the little details of the interpretation too. I said once after hearing “Der König in Thule” in a recital that I wished I could ask her to do it again, because I was fairly sure there were bits of detail that I had missed – and hey, here it is! to repeat and absorb at leisure.

If I was in the business of making requests, I would ask her to do a CD just of Hugo Wolf songs – just for fun, you know?

Purcell – The Fairy Queen / Styriarte Festival 6-21-14

The recent production of Purcell’s The Fairy Queen broadcast live from the Styriarte Festival reminded me again how much I enjoy Nikolaus Harnoncourt’s conducting. This came to mind during the overture, at various little moments of transition from one mood to the next – and just in general at many points throughout the performance. It’s something about the pacing, or the rhythm – hard to pin down in words, but Harnoncourt conveys just the right amount of energy with this music, so it’s engaging to listen to, but not in a way that sounds unidiomatic for Baroque music. (It feels not like “baroque music” but just simply “music”.) For me, watching this was essentially a very pleasant two and a half hours of well-executed Purcell, punctuated at intervals with “hey, there’s Dorothea Röschmann again!” (and Florian Boesch and Martina Jankova and a number of other people whose names I did not recognize, including a tenor, Joshua Ellicott, who gave a very lovely rendition of the autumn song in the ‘four seasons’ section in the second half.)

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Deep Thoughts About French Songs

I am aware that this blog has a tendency to devolve into fits of Röschmann worship at fairly predictable intervals. Here is another instance of it: Frau R singing some French material she doesn’t often perform, via BBC3, followed by more familiar Strauss, Liszt and Wolf, and a Schubert encore. I wish she sang Fauré more often – I like Strauss and Wolf and all that, but I enjoy hearing her sing things I’m less familiar with.

Also, did you know that Fauré once played his song “Le secret” to Henri Duparc, and Duparc was so impressed with it that he shouted “You savage!” and punched Fauré in the face? I am not making this up; it’s in the BBC intro to the first set.

Schumann – Liederkreis Op. 39 / Sarah Connolly

20140208-144214.jpg There are several recordings of Schumann’s Op. 39 Liederkreis, studio and otherwise, that are very close to my heart. Having heard Sarah Connolly singing Handel last week I was curious what her interpretation of this song cycle would be like.

The version of this that I’m most used to is Röschmann’s, in various bootleg formats. She performs this cycle with her characteristic drama and intensity. Connolly’s version is less visceral but very beautiful.

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Handel – Theodora / Carnegie Hall 2-2-14

It turns out that Super Bowl Sunday is actually a really good day to go to an afternoon performance at Carnegie Hall. When the concert lets out the streets are clear and many of the restaurants are not at all crowded; we were almost the only people on the train back out to Long Island. And none of the other passengers puked on the way! And here I was worried that the game would louse things up somehow. Having experienced the Long Island Rail Road Late Nite Post Party Local (stopping at: Puketon, Little Leering, Loud Dudes, Shrieking, Puketon Again and points east – the first four cars will NOT PLATFORM at Puketon) in the past, this felt like, as they said in the eighteenth century, Heav’n, and one didn’t even have to be killed by the Romans to ride the train.

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Sunday Bootleg: Strauss Edition

Remember there was that concert from Italy last fall of Röschmann singing Strauss’s Four Last Songs? It was broadcast over the radio, but the stream did not work very well and I didn’t get to hear it properly then. Bits of the concert turned up on YouTube, recorded with someone’s phone, but it seems they had their phone on “add unpleasant metallic edge to all human voice sounds” setting, so that was a disappointment.

This version, not recorded with a phone, sounds substantially better.

Well, I’m an idiot.

You know Mitsuko Uchida’s new Schumann CD, the one that has the super bonus extra secret song moment at the end? I was wondering why Uchida and Röschmann picked “Im Herbste” in particular. Listening to the recording again, I realized that the theme from the song also appears in the second movement of the Piano Sonata No. 2, which is also on the recording.

This is probably in the booklet notes somewhere, but I didn’t read them.

23 Minutes of Art Songs

These are the songs and the Program Notes that I sent to my mom as per earlier discussion. WordPress is being weird for some reason about displaying the player widget for the ones that are m4a and not wav files, but I think they all work. I also managed to include one very authentic Liederabend moment: before the Wolf song begins there is great hacking and wheezing from the audience.

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It’s surprising what you could get away with saying in the nineteenth century . . .

. . . as long as you didn’t actually say it, of course.

Here is Dorothea Röschmann at the Edinburgh International Festival, from her recital on August 19, singing Hugo Wolf’s “Erstes Liebeslied eines Mädchens” / “A girl’s first love song.” Text by Eduard Mörike.

(Texts in German and English here.)