Prom 14 Das Rheingold Barenboim

Prom 14. Wagner: Das Rheingold (concert performance, sung in German)

Iain Paterson Wotan

Stephan Rügamer Loge
Jan Buchwald,Donner
Marius Vlad Froh
Ekaterina Gubanova Fricka
Anna Samuil: Freia
Anna Larsson, Erda
Johannes Martin Kränzle Alberich
Peter Bronder Mime
Stephen Milling Fasolt
Eric Halfvarson Fafner
Aga Mikolaj Woglinde
Maria Gortsevskaya Wellgunde
Anna Lapkovskaja Flosshilde
Staatskapelle Berlin, Daniel Barenboim

Daniel Barenboim’s much anticipated Ring cycle got off to a great start with this evening’s Rheingold. He’s just finished a Ring staging with his company in Berlin, and these Proms performances are essentially concert versions of those. So there is plenty of musical coherency here, with the soloists attuned to Barneboim’s vision for the score. The whole thing has been reduced to a barely dramatized—let’s call it quarter-staged—concert version for the Proms by Australian stage director  Justin Way. He just gives us the bare bones, so that you can work out what is going on from the minimal interactions on the stage (the Albert Hall acoustic, so-called, prevents any words from being audible), letting Barenboim present the music without undue distraction. We came for Barenboim’s Rheingold, and that’s exactly what we got.

But Barenboim is an unpredictable Wagnerian. It is easy to get frustrated by his readings that stick rigidly to unyielding tempos with little sense of breadth in the climaxes. But then he can take the same work to a different company and present it completely differently, full of sensitivity and expressive detail. This evening’s Rheingold had a bit of both. There were occasional passages where he seemed to be on autopilot, but he gave the set pieces plenty of weight. I love the way he makes each of the thematic expositions into real events. The first time we hear the Valhalla motif for example, or the giants’ theme, it is as if the continuum of the music has been temporarily suspended for this major announcement.

The Berlin Staatskapelle fielded a band this evening that almost filled the stage. The throaty German brass instruments were a real treat, and completely different from anything you will hear from a British orchestra. The six harps were predictably inaudible in the Albert Hall, but it was nice to see them anyway. No anvils for some reason. All we got were some pre-recorded anvil sounds, and very feeble they sounded too. I’ve no idea why: this is one of the few effects in Wagner’s orchestra that could be guaranteed to project to the upper tier.

Justin Way had some interesting ideas about the placement and interaction of the singers, although for the most part they were lined up along the front of the stage, but then, given the number of characters he had to deal with in Scene Four, what else could he do? Curiously, the cast, even though they were all in concert dress, all seemed to resemble the characters they sang. Johannes Martin Kränzle, who sang Alberich, is a born actor, and there is no stopping him from immediately transforming into the part he plays. Then there is Stephen Milling as Fasolt, who really is a giant, and Peter Bronder as Mime who really is a…well, maybe he’s not literally a dwarf, but he was by far the shortest singer on the stage.

As a whole, the cast that Barenboim assembled was strong. No singer stood out as particularly weak, and some of the main leads gave real world class performances. It was a very international cast too, with many names we in the UK have only heard so far from recordings, but who, with any luck, will be visiting us again in the near future.

The first scene took place at the back right of the stage, a risky strategy, given that it meant the singers were even further from the audience. But both Kränzle as Alberich and the three Rhinemaidens had the projection to bring it off. Kränzle was last seen in the UK as Beckmesser at Glyndebourne. That too was and excellent performance, but his acting is so convincing that any memories of the Nuremburg stooge were distant indeed as he presented instead the reptilian Alberich. From Scene Two the action moved to the front of the stage, introducing Iain Paterson as Wotan and Ekaterina Gubanova as Fricka. Paterson is a likable and very human Wotan, with good diction and a very discursive approach to the part. He has a rich tone in store too, but reserves it for the more emphatic and dramatic passages. Gubanova is more lyrical in tone, and her every line was a musical delight. She has a rich and complex alto, elegant rather than pretty, but able to convey the drama of every phrase just through her timbre. I read from her bio that she also sings Brangäne, and I can imagine that she has few serious rivals for that role. Stephen Milling, I’m guessing, is one of the few singers here unfamiliar with Barenboim’s reading, as he and the conductor were out of synch on a few entries. But both he and Eric Halfvarson as Fafner have the deep, bassy voices required to make the giants sound convincing. Stephan Rügamer is light of tone as Loge, but still manages to project well. Anna Samuil is a bit Italianate for the role of Freia, but she’s there more to be seen than heard anyway. And Jan Buchwald and Marius Vlad are both convincing as Donner and Froh, and both are singers who could potentially shine in more demanding Wagner roles.

The Nibelheim scene sans anvils (or transformations of course) was a bit of a weak spot dramatically, although Way did a good job of the scene changes, with Wotan and Loge descending from their mountain top into the arena, and then arriving in the netherworld via one of the high staircases to the side of the stage. There were a few neat tricks in the final scene too, not least the appearance of Erda (Anna Larsson) up behind the bust of Henry Wood, who would no doubt have heartily approved of the whole enterprise. Larsson’s intonation was a little unstable at the start of her “Weiche, Wotan, weiche”, but she soon found her form. And the conclusion to the opera was a proper climax. It turned out that Iain Paterson had been saving the best for last, and his final exclamations were given with real power and gravitas. Jan Buchwald also upped his game for Donner’s final thundery invocations. The orchestral conclusion as the gods enter Valhalla was just thrilling, and gave no suggestion that either Barenboim or his brass players were holding anything back. An impressive Rheingold then, and one that augers well for the following instalments later on this week.

Die Meistersinger from Budapest

In a year when every cultural centre of any significance (apart from London for some reason) is staging as much Wagner as it can afford – and then some in many cases – few contributions to the bicentenary are likely to stand out. Even so, Budapest is going further than most, staging seven of the ten mature operas over the course of the year, many under the baton of the estimable Ádám Fischer. If you catch it quick, their performance of Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg is available to hear online and is well worth a listen. Fischer’s account is unusual in some respects, often very slow, but really emphasising clarity of texture. The counterpoint in the strings comes through with particular clarity, revealing many details that had previously passed me by.  More significantly though, Fischer conveys the summery optimism of the score in every bar; you might not agree with his every interpretive decision, but it is a performance that is guaranteed to put a smile on your face.

The other reason is to catch this performance is the casting of Klaus Florian Vogt and Annette Dasch as Walther and Eva. I hadn’t heard of either of these fine Wagnerians ever singing Meistersinger before, but both are predictably impressive, and they bring the same chemistry that helped the recent Lonhengrin at Bayreuth to get over its rat problem. The rest of the cast is good too, James Rutherford a dependable Sachs and Eric Halfvarson an impressively rich Pogner.

The performance was broadcast live on Saturday 8 June on Bartok Radio. It should be available to listen on demand for at least a week. This is the station to come to, by the way, for the first week of Bayreuth each year. Those performances stay on the site for a few weeks, so perhaps this one will too. To listen to the Meistersinger:

Follow this link: http://hangtar.radio.hu/bartok#!#2013-06-08
Click on “Kapcsoljuk a Bartók Béla Nemzeti Hangversenytermet”
Hover to the left of the title, and after few seconds a play triangle will appear. After you’ve clicked on that the media interface appears at the top of the screen. (I know, it’s big hassle, but it’s worth it.) 

For any Hungarian speakers out there, here's a review. It seems to dwell on the nationalistic aspects of the story, which are particularly relevant, given Fischer's relationship with the current Hungarian government: http://figaro.postr.hu/sorbariton-plusstenor-es-szuperszopran

 (Photographs: Művészetek Palotája) 

Carolin Widmann Alexander Lonquich Wigmore Hall 7 June 2013

Schubert: Violin Sonata in A D574; Fantasy in C D934

Poulenc: Violin Sonata

Ives: Violin Sonata No. 4 “A Children’s Day at the Camp Meeting”

Carolin Widmann  - violin

Alexander Lonquich – piano

Wigmore Hall, London 7 June 2013

Like many soloists, Carolin Widmann is shown off to her absolute best by the Wigmore Hall acoustic. She has a narrow tone, focussed and occasionally gritty. It is very elegant though, and she is able to produce plenty of timbral variety, though never a large or round sound. That doesn’t matter at the Wigmore Hall, because her playing is always clearly audible here, and in this acoustic the focus of her tone translates to intimacy. So, rather than large rhetorical gestures, instead we hear the details up close; they’re always interesting, and they are usually very beautiful as well. The two Schubert works on this evening’s programme appear on a disc that Widmann and Lonquich recently recorded for ECM. I was less impressed with the results there. The big, warm recording environment that is a trademark of the ECM label ought, by rights, to compensate for the lack of body in Widmann’s tone, but in this case it seems to have the opposite effect, isolating her in a broad soundscape that she is unable to fill. The Wigmore acoustic doesn’t make Widmann sound any warmer, but it does give her the presence and the immediacy that the ECM sound conspicuously lacks.

Pianist Lonquich is at the other end of the spectrum. His sound is warm and enveloping. Again, it is not a huge sound, but it is much more robust than Widmann’s. The two complement each other perfectly. Lonquich often behaves more like a soloist than Widmann does, and in the Schubert sonata it often seemed that the rubato impulses and the phasing were coming more from the piano than from the solo line. But that didn’t matter a bit, especially as the accompaniments in all these works carry so much of the musical interest.

There is never any feeling of undue certainty in Widmann’s playing. In fact, while everything she performs is technically correct (bar a few tuning slips), nothing ever seems completely secure. The narrowness of Widmann’s tone is a related issue, and it often seemed that her bow did not have the purchase it needed on the strings. There were occasional extraneous sounds from the strings themselves, some of the passage work was irregular, and some notes failed to sound immediately. Perhaps this is just a more reticent approach to the violin; it is certainly at odds with the more strident (more masculine?) sound that predominates among leading soloists today. On her recordings, these problems are minimised, but that reticence always remains.

The problem/issue/quirk was most apparent at the opening of the first work, the Schubert Sonata in A D574. The introduction to this sonata is, or should be absolutely exquisite, atmospheric chords from the piano over which the violin plays a simple, unadorned melodic line. The extreme exposure here, and the requirement to reduce the vibrato to almost nothing, highlighted Widmann’s insecurities, with her tuning and articulation particularly problematic. Fortunately, Schubert gives a second chance, including the atmospheric introduction in the exposition repeat. And this time it was just ideal: innocent and plaintive, but hinting at the complexities that are to follow. Lonquich treats the accompaniment of this first movement as if it were a solo piano sonata, but Widmann has enough ideas of her own, and enough volume, to ensure he never steals the show. Between them, they produce quite a Romantic interpretation, with plenty of rubato and intense emotions in every phrase. By the time we get to the recapitulation, we realise just how far we’ve come. That atmospheric introduction returns for a third time, but now all the naivety has gone, and the final statement of the themes from here on, while virtually identical on paper, is given with a sense of worldliness and reluctant sophistication.

Poulenc’s Violin Sonata is a rarity on concert programmes, but its inclusion on this one was clearly warranted. Widmann’s focussed tone gives direction and purpose to Poulenc’s occasionally wayward melodic lines, while Lonquich’s boisterous accompaniments fully realise the music’s playful side. Widmann occasionally struggles to produce the quantity of tone that the composer expects, which can strain the longer climaxes, but she compensates with the energy she puts into the scurrying details elsewhere. The finale is classic Poulenc, with surprises and changes of direction at every turn. Widmann and Lonquich manage to keep the suspense up right to the end, with every new idea sounding fresh and original.

Ives’ Fourth Violin Sonata is even more of a rarity, and perhaps justifiably so. But, like the Poulenc, it is a work that makes the most of these players’ ability to give focus and purpose to otherwise only tenuously connected musical ideas. Ives structures his sonata around a fairly involved narrative, which fills a whole column of the programme. From a musical perspective, the unifying ideas are hymn tunes, which are repeatedly abused in a variety of ways. Widmann’s brusque tone at louder dynamics seems appropriate in this music, and sits well with the composer’s distanced approach to his material. And again, the broad and sometimes frenetic playing of Lonquich gives weight to the proceedings, ensuring the music never sounds trivial.

The highlight of the concert was the last work, the Schubert Fantasy in C D934. Like the earlier sonata, the Fantasy opens in a nebulous atmosphere, with tremolo chords in the piano introducing a plaintive melody on the violin. This time Widmann was the music’s wavelength from the very start, and the whole performance was excellent from beginning to end. There is a lot of passion and intensity in this music, but it all falls under a carefully controlled emotional contour. After the impassioned opening statement of the themes, the intensity drops, as a series of variations begins, in quieter dynamics and over lighter textures. But as the variations continue, the intensity gradually rises again, slowly and evenly over the course of the second half of the work, and the controlled but emotive performance here was ideal, leading to a truly spectacular coda.

For an encore, Widmann and Lonquich played the third movement of Schumann’s Second Violin Sonata, another excellent choice. The movement is slow and dreamy, but with occasional melodic outbursts that, in this performance, seemed to come out of nowhere. As with everything that had gone before, and especially the Schubert Fantasy, the Schumann was poignant, focussed, intense in so many subtle ways, and, above all, filled with an exquisite beauty from beginning to end.