The purpose of our trip to New York prior to Christmas 2010 was to see Seiji Ozawa conduct once more and to finally hear the Saito Kinen Orchestra in person. It was also to hear Barbara Hannigan perform on a chamber concert with conductor Sir Simon Rattle. We purchased our tickets in August in anticipation of a holiday of good music, food and friends. In neither of these were we disappointed.
As an undergraduate studying voice with Mary Morrison at the University of Toronto’s Faculty of Music, Barbara had sung with Nexus and continued to do so for a brief period after her graduation. She went to England and then moved to Amsterdam where her career began to grow and attract international attention. In some respects Barbara’s career reminds me of the great Cathy Berberian (1925-83) 1
Berberian was an artist with an eclectic repertoire and often performed music by Luciano Berio (1825-2003). Hannigan, who also has wide ranging tastes, has an affinity for the music of György Ligeti (1923-2006), and it is Ligeti’s “Mysteries of the Macabre” (1991) which she performed in Zankel Hall with the ACJW Ensemble conducted by Simon Rattle. In 2006, she sang Stravinsky’s “Les Noces” (1917) with the Berlin Philharmonic on one days notice and since then has appeared with them seven times. Just last year, she sang the Nightingale in Stravinsky’s “Le Rossignole” (1914) with the same orchestra, Pierre Boulez conducting. Though Barbara has concentrated primarily on contemporary music, I’ve heard she’s also been engaged by the Canadian Opera Company in Toronto to sing Donna Anna in Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” K.527.(1787)
Barbara’s vocal range is wide, but once told me she’s happiest when all the notes are above the treble clef. I’ve never heard anyone sing notes as high as those in “Mysteries of the Macabre” and in fact, never thought them possible, at least not expressively and in tune. And the vocal virtuosity and acting skill necessary to bring this work off is something Barbara achieves with deceptive ease.
Zankel Hall, tucked three floors under the main stage of Carnegie Hall, is a comfortable space for chamber music, Not too large, not too small. The program featured Ligeti’s “Mysteries of the Macabre” (1991) and his Violin Concerto (1989-93) performed by the German violinist Christian Tetszlaff (b.1961). The program opens with music by Jean Phiippe Rameau, the Suite “Les Boreades”. The work is in seven movements and the fourth movement, “Rondeau” opens with a drum roll. When I heard it, the drum roll, the question immediately sprang to mind, “Do conductors hear percussion?” This drum was simply a tenor drum tensioned too high for the music, but the worst part were the plastic heads which were not properly tuned, thus producing ‘false’ overtones’ and a tinny sound. I know that as a percussionist I might be finicky, but come on. The sound was so ridiculously out of place I felt like screaming. Had the orchestra played 100 notes out of tune, the effect would not have been worse. Otherwise the work was beautifully played.
I was not as enthusiastic about the Ligeti Violin Concerto as was Sir Simon,2 and though I’d heard his name, I had never heard Tetszlaff perform live or on recordings. I enjoyed his playing very much particularly during the lovely violin solo in Richard Strauss ‘ (1864-1949) “Metamorphosen” at concert’s end.
“Mysteries of the Macabre” was next. The first time I encountered Ligeti was in 1972 when I played the percussion part to “Nouvelle Aventures” which was very definitely an adventure for me. Today, the only thing I remember about the performance is tearing butcher’s paper and throwing an entire set of cheap dishes into a large wooden box, the bottom of which had been lined with metal stage weights. Serendipitously, the Soprano soloist was Mary Morrison.3 It was great fun and whenever I think of Ligeti, this concert comes to mind.
For all the responsibilities demanded by her role Barbara certainly has fun. She makes her entrance in a jet black wig, black leather trench coat and laced knee-high black boots. Midway through the performance she “disrobes” revealing black mesh stockings and a 1920s Berlin Marlena Dietrich, Kurt Weill femme fatale top that only could be displayed by a woman with Barbara’s panache.
As the drama intensifies, Barbara pushes Sir Rattle aside and begins conducting. He retaliates by pushing her away with his foot and regains control of the orchestra. At one point Rattle, unhinged by Barbara’s vocal antics, loses his cool and runs into the orchestra yelling something about Justin Bieber and orchestral decorum, before returning to his conductoral duties. The entire work which lasts only about 10 minutes is a tour-de-force for all the performers. The audience, many of whom were Juilliard students who had come to hear their friends in the ACJW Ensemble got right into the mood, and applauded enthusiastically. Barbara took four or five elongated bows necessitated by her outfit and swept off stage to lingering applause. 4
HANNIGAN and RATTLE rehearsing with the ACJW ENSEMBLE.
2006-BARBARA HANNIGAN in her MYSTERIES of the MACABRE OUTFIT with conductor REINBERT de LEEUW.
A goodly amount of time was needed to clear the air and stage for Strauss’ “Metamorphosen: A Study for 23 Strings”, (1945).5 Paul Sacher, the eminent Swiss conductor and patron of contemporary music, commissioned Strauss to write the work for 23 solo strings and premiered it in January 1946 with his Zurich Collegium Musicum. Metamorphosen was written towards the end of the Second World War as a lament for the destruction of Germany, particularly for the bombing of the Munich Opera House and the Goethehaus, which Strauss called “the world’s most holy shrine”. The violin solo, played by Tetszlaff with exquisite introspection and lack of affectation, rivals any of Strauss’s melodic output . Strauss’ sense of sadness is later underscored by a brief quote from the beginning of the Funeral March from Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.
There was plenty of room for thought between Ligeti, Rameau and Strauss and the quality and scope of performances remained with us as we walked slowly across the street to the Redeye Grill where a lite repast gave us time to absorb the evening’s music.
The works of Symbolist author Maurice Maeterlinck (1862–1949) are not popular today, but the painters and musicians of the European fin de siècle admired his depiction of humanity in symbolic rather than realistic terms. Debussy, after struggling for years to find a story suitable for a stage work, found Maeterlinck’s Pelléas et Mélisande met the requirements of his dramatic and musical ideas.
And it was this opera that Rattle had chosen to make his Metropolitan Opera debut. The story is dark, the opera is long and the music, so different from anything in the Verismo repertoire, have combined to make “Pelléas et Mélisande” a favorite with aficionados, but not with the general public. Therefore, on the afternoon of Rattle’s second performance, my wife and I had no problem purchasing wonderful seats, center balcony.
Rattle snuck unnoticed into the pit and sat quietly beside the podium as the rest of the orchestra entered the pit and tuned. His discretion allowed him to begin the opera without any applause from the audience. And thus Debussy began to cast his spell. The first two acts went by as in a dream and I think I took my first breath after I realized there was going to be a pause.
We had never before heard an opera in the Met. The Met is huge, almost 4000 seats, but retains a certain intimacy and its’ open pit which extends beyond the stage reminds me of the new opera house in Toronto. The sound is fine, and the playing of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra is as good as almost any symphony orchestra in the world. The pianissimos, and there were many, were softer, more controlled and in tune than any I’ve ever heard. At one point I found myself being pulled forward towards the pit by a remarkable diminuendo that seemed unending.
“Pelléas et Mélisande” is set in a castle , a forest or grotto and the blue gray scenery reminded me of the colors in chalk drawings of Renaissance artists. Their sombre, brooding tones fluctuated occasionally from dark to darker. The set would periodically rotate, very slowly, allowing singers to move through a doorway into another room, a garden or forest without interrupting the spell.
As the fifth act came to a close, a single chime note began to peal, its dissonance underscoring the tragedies that had taken place. By themselves, these last few minutes rival the most poignant, melancholy music ever written. During cast bows, the Met orchestra players joined the audience to enthusiastically demonstrate their appreciation for Rattle’s sensitive direction.
Footnotes:
1.From 1950 to 1964 Berberian was married to Luciano Berio, whom she met when they were students at the Milan Conservatory. They had one daughter, Christina Luisa, born in 1953. Berberian became Berio’s muse both during and after their marriage. He deconstructed her voice in Thema (Omaggio a Joyce) (1958) and wrote his Circles (1960), Folk Songs (1964), Sequenza III for woman’s voice (1965), and Recital I (for Cathy) (1972) for her.
2. The day of the concert I heard a televised interview with Simon Rattle during which he made a very intelligent and impassioned plea for the necessity of performing contemporary music. He referred to the the Ligeti Violin Concerto as being comparable with the music of Johanne Sebastian Bach.
3. Mary Morrison is a revered vocal teacher and mentor. Her students perform on the world’s stages and when in Toronto, often stay with her in her hone. Mary’s career as a performer, and teacher as well as her famous ebullience, was rewarded by the Canadian government when it made her a member of the Order of Canada.
4. “. . . amid-all this Ms. Hannigan’s pinpoint vocalizations and fluid acting conveyed Ligeti’s parody of a secret–police chief with scalpel-edge sharpness”. The New York Times, December 2010.
Two reviews of the 2006 Alice Tulley Hall performance:
.”To call Barbara Hannigan a soprano is like calling Robin Williams a public speaker; the term doesn’t begin to cover her fearless verve or elasticity … the 8 minute theatrical tour de-force left her spent and the audience roaring. Who said the avant garde can’t be fun?” New York Newsday, January 2006.
“Mysteries of the Macabre” was performed here by the fearless soprano Barbara Hannigan. Wearing fishnet tights,spiked heels and a leather trench coat, Ms. Hannigan was a demonic presence. But even scarier was her uncanny ability to toss off the hysterical coloratura flights and nonsensical words . . . Ms. Hannigan, Conductor de Leeuw and the players were brought back for five bows by the audience”. The New York Times January, 2006.
For examples of Barbara Hannigan’s artistry, see YouTube videos , particularly those of 2010 and 11 New Years celebrations from Amsterdam.
5. The performance of “Metamorphosen” reminded me of the day I first visited the home of composer Bruce Mather. His wife Pierrette served a splendid lunch and Bruce, a member of the exclusive Burgundian wine fraternity, Chevaliers du Tastevin which owns the property and chateau that produces the great Clos du Vougeot, selected the wines. Fine wines. After lunch Bruce played a recording of Strauss’ choral work “Deutsche Motetet”. As I fell under its spell, I fell asleep, prone on his living room sofa and remember waking up in Halifax. My excuse is simple. I had never drunk wines of any kind, let alone great wines, from Burgundy. The food, wine and music were too rich. I’ve since learned to tolerate the combination.
Robin Engelman 
“Sameness is the Enemy”
A friend and former clarinetist who keeps up with the goings on in the world of music sent me the article below by Scott Robinson.
You know the feeling: you’re just arriving in a part of the US you’ve never visited before, and looking forward to seeing what it has to offer. The moment your plane touches down, the cabin suddenly fills with dreadful Muzak that you must endure until you can make it to the exit. In the airport, the insipid music (or another version of it) is again your unwanted companion, following you everywhere, even into the bathroom. You wend your way past the same Chili’s Express, Cinnabon and Miller Brewhouse you saw in the airport you departed from 2,000 miles ago, and pick up your car keys at the rental desk. Out in the lot, the music continues to follow you as you make your way to your car, through speakers mounted every five feet in the canopy overhead.
You hit the road, looking forward to the local scenery on the way to your hotel. You’re on a highway, and it looks disturbingly like a lot of other highways in a lot of other places you’ve been, nowhere near this one. You pass shopping centers, malls and large swaths of housing developments just like the ones back home. These bear evocative names that recall whatever was destroyed in order to put them there: Fox Run Woods, Turkey Glen Estates. Nervously you turn on the radio, thinking, “maybe I’ll catch some local music.” But up and down the dial is a seemingly endless supply of the same pop/rock you were subjected to back at the airport, along with a hefty dose of right-wing talk and a smattering of news.
Near a big intersection you find your hotel, one of a giant chain (aren’t they all nowadays?). Your spirits fall as you look around and realize that this highway interchange is indistinguishable from all the others you’ve seen all across this continent. Wal-Mart, Wendy’s, Home Depot… you are in the center of a giant ocean of unrecognizable conformity. Where Indians once hunted bison is now no different than where steamy Floridian jungle once stood. Those worlds have been removed and replaced with… this.
You step into the hotel lobby (yes, the pop music is playing there, too) and make your way to the checkin desk, passing by the hotel bar. Maybe you’ll drop in later for a good local beer! Quickly you scan the taps: Bud, Bud Light, Coors, Coors Light… no luck there. As the perky young gal at the desk hands you your key, you ask, “Where can I get some good local chow?” “Well, there’s a Denny’s next door,” she answers cheerfully, “and an Applebee’s just across the highway. I like Applebee’s, ’cause you know what you’re gonna get – it’s always the same!”
This scourge of sameness has somehow permeated nearly every part of our landscape and every aspect of our culture. And it isn’t just here at home. Thanks to globalization, multinational corporate behemoths now bring us Kraft cheese in France, Coca-Cola in Chad, McDonald’s in Moscow and Starbucks in Beijing’s Forbidden City. Where America’s jazz once fired the imagination of the world, now her bland, pitch-corrected pop has stultified the cultures of other nations, driving out their indigenous music like an invasive species. In cafés from Kowloon to Cameroon, I’ve had to endure the same stuff that I would in my local New Jersey bar. What’s disturbing is the tyranny of it, the ubiquity. We are not allowed to escape it – it is required listening wherever we go.
The forces of sameness are at work in education, too, where the push is toward ever more standardization, and away from innovation in teaching. Even the world of jazz, supposed bastion of unfettered imagination, is susceptible (theme-solos-theme formats, formulaic endings, the dreaded “everybody wear all black”). And thanks to deregulation and corporate greed, jazz has virtually disappeared from radio along with almost anything that isn’t pop or talk. Radio stations once had live orchestras; now many of them don’t even have local DJs, as programming is prerecorded from a prescribed playlist and piped in from corporate headquarters. This trend began in the ’90s with test marketing: test groups determine playability based on just 10 seconds of music. Playlists shrink, songwriters start “writing to the test” and sameness wins the day. Today, any sort of DJ autonomy has vanished from most radio, as corporations decide what gets played. There’s big money in sameness!
What about the internet? There’s been much to be thankful for, with independent musicians finally out from under the yoke of record labels and distributors who decide which music is worthy of release. But I see an ominous new trend coming: subscription services, which many say will soon replace downloads. For a monthly fee, listeners can access an entire library of music… but only whatever music the company chooses to provide. Even more unsettling are the new “acoustic personalization” services, which provide listeners with music matching the acoustical profile of whatever they listened to last – a virtual recipe for sameness! How would someone listening to Coltrane discover, say, Art Tatum by such a method, let alone Bartók’s string quartets? The joy of discovering new sounds will be forever lost if we start allowing our listening choices to be made by a computer program whose sole criterion is that the next piece must sound the same, or nearly the same, as the last.
Why does uniformity have such a hold over us? Why do humans, those most creative of animals (in America, that most creative of nations), seem so eager to prostrate themselves before the altar of sameness? I have a theory: perhaps, like brute physical strength, creativity is becoming less critical for day-to-day survival. Where early humans had to use brawn and brains to find a way to stay alive, now most (in the developed world, at least) can simply pick up a pizza or buy groceries. Could we be in danger of losing our creative edge?
Certain species of birds have, through the centuries, lost the ability to fly. Consider the ostrich: does not such a flightless bird seem somehow less a bird, absent such a distinguishing characteristic? And would not a diminishment of our own creative powers make us, in some immeasurable but crucial way, less human?
If there is an answer to this dilemma, at least for musicians, perhaps it cannot be stated more simply or more passionately than what Mr. Anthony Braxton said to me years ago: “We have to keep playing music like our life depends on it – which it does!” He was speaking, of course, of creative, far-reaching music, music that elevates the imagination and transforms the listener. We musicians are often told that we must “give the audience what it wants”… but an audience can only want what it already knows. I believe that part of an artist’s job is to find that which the audience never knew it wanted, that which it was not even equipped to imagine. This way, the music is allowed to evolve and grow, and perhaps take us humans along with it. Indeed, creativity – and creative music in particular – may be the most powerful weapon we have against the creeping tide of sameness and uniformity. Let us wield it often, and well.
NOTE: Scott Robinson (mysite.verizon.net/smoulden/) has been a highly-active presence on the New York-based jazz scene for more than 25 years, appearing on some 200 CDs. He has been heard with Frank Wess, Bob Brookmeyer, Maria Schneider, Anthony Braxton, Hank Jones and more, and toured 11 African nations in 2001 as a US Jazz Ambassador. This year, Robinson’s ScienSonic label has released its first two CDs of “worlds of tomorrow through sound”.
Posted by robinengelman on January 3, 2011 in Articles, Commentaries & Critiques