Friday, November 6, 2009

Comedy at SIN

Comedy at S.I.N.

Hoping to build on the strength of my initial appearances at S.I.N.’s Comedy Night performing Borscht-Belt style comedy (a video documents my first performance and is available only on Facebook), I once again took to the stage this past Thursday, merely three days after returning to Berlin. Boy, was it a tough crowd! Under the circumstances, I think it went off pretty well. The great thing about the recording that I’m posting below is how you can’t tell when I lose my place and need to glance down at my notes! That, and the girl who was taking audio is laughing especially loudly - which creates the illusion that the whole bar erupted in peals of delirious laughter. Would that that had been the case.

Before posting this, I’m required by U.S. federal law to warn all minors that the following program contains obscene language, so please tune in kiddies!

Me on stage (in August)

p.s. - Apologies to my dog Alfie, who is in fact very much alive.

Posted by A.J. Goldmann at 18:38:08 | Permalink | No Comments »

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Haitink and the LSO explore Mahler and Schubert

http://operachic.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/05/05/haitink.jpg

While the New York Philharmonic wraps up its Asian Horizons Tour, Avery Fisher is playing host to the London Symphony Orchestra led by Bernard Haitink. On Wednesday evening, the orchestra performed the first of two programs that pair symphonic works by Franz Schubert and Gustav Mahler.  Contrasting these composers’ early symphonic styles seemed to be the order of business. However, it was hard to see how the works chosen for the program complimented each other.

Schubert was all of 19 years old when he composed his Symphony No. 5 in B-flat major. It is an eminently tuneful and balanced work that strikes equilibrium between form and material. It is also surprisingly modest in its instrumentation (it was written for a small community orchestra) and a piece that the composer viewed as an exercise towards learning how to write more sophisticated symphonic music.

Compared to the Schubert, Mahler’s Fourth Symphony in G major is gargantuan. However, for Mahler, who was 40 at the time of the work’s completion, it was something of a step back from the harrowing dimensions of the second and third symphonies. If Schubert was trying to expand the sonic dimensions of his work, Mahler was consciously pairing down from scaling the heights in the second and third symphonies. Compared to those works (and indeed all of Mahler’s symphonies) the Fourth seems surprisingly modest.

In the Schubert, Haitink elicited a smooth and well-balanced reading from the LSO musicians. The first movement began at a steady gallop, and maintained a moderate, even tempo. Amid clear, open textures, Haitink infused every reiteration of the theme with a different character.  He drew a warm sound from the plaintive horns in the Andante and the unison strings, playing with judicious vibrato, took on a sort of organic swelling quality. The finale was where Haitink’s tightly controlled performance allowed for the most dynamic fluctuations and muscular playing. Adding to the overall sense of drama was a prominent horn ostinato that was never too insistent.

Mahler’s Fourth is a piece that Haitink has recorded no less that four times. On Wednesday night, however, the conductor pushed the boundaries of how much transparency to allow the composer’s intricate orchestrations. Especially during the first movement, the winds and French horns played with heightened effect, often on par with the ebbing melodies carried by the violins. This caused problems by drowning out some of the first violin’s solos. Otherwise, the diaphanous texture that Haitink achieved was fascinating. One sensed a methodical approach tempered by emotional investment. For that reason, the performance never became a clinical dissection à la Boulez. Crescendos and other climactic moments erupted with surprising vigor and violence. But Haitink usually pulled in the reins tightly and efficiently. He also mostly eschewed rubato, even having the trumpets pay slavish devotion to the beat.

In the second movement, the virtuosic scordatura violin of concertmaster Gordan Nikolitch was routinely overpowered by brass. There was a rugged quality to the sinewy bass clarinet line. The echo of the Wunderhorn tune ‘Ging heut’ morgen übers Feld” had a lustrous and otherworldly sheen, though the whole movement sounded a bit too trim and manicured.

The sublime adagio, which I clocked at 22 minutes, was the fulcrum of this performance. Haitink’s equipoise and restraint resulted in an effective reading that never sounded maudlin. One miraculous moment: when the violins leap up a sixth and the gates of heaven open, the shimmering orchestra attained a transcendent quality. In a highly polished performance, this climax was at once noble and elemental.

The final movement enlisted the talents of Swedish soprano Miah Persson (who is currently appearing as Sophie in the Met’s revival of Rosenkavalier) whose “Himmliche Leben” was affecting pure and honest. Her voice that was clear in all registers and capable of great dramatic expression. Here, Haitink might have better reined in the musicians, especially after the mischievous ritornello with its bells and shrill winds.

These worthy performances should pique interest in Friday night’s LSO concert, which will pair Schubert’s Eighth Symphony with Das Lied von der Erde. Haitink will hopefully have an easier time drawing fruitful connections between these late-period works.

Posted by A.J. Goldmann at 22:50:44 | Permalink | No Comments »

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

The End of Amato

I awoke this morning to the news that the Amato Opera, the longtime bargain basement opera company on the Bowery was closing at the end of the season. My chagrin, however, was tempered by finding out that the decision to close had come from Anthony Amato, the company’s 88-year old director, who founded the opera 61 years ago with his late wife Sally. The decision was not made as consequence of the financial fiasco, though my eyes flashed with this fear when I saw the news item posted on NYtimes.com (http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/13/arts/music/13amat.html?hp).

Personally, I managed to attend exactly one performance of the Amato company. About 7 years ago, on a whim, I decided to try for student tickets to a Sunday matinée performance. I remember that the performance was sold-out as usual (there was always a years-long waitlist to become a subscriber), but I managed to get a return. The work was Giordano’s Andrea Chenier, which Tony Amato conducted from a pit the size of my closet with a pianist, violinist and trumpet-player (or was it a horn?) tightly compacted, yet still capable of following their scores. The stage was large enough to fit three or four singers at a time - the stars were amateur performers and students, and hearing grand opera in an enclosed space barely larger than a living room had its acoustic advantages and pitfalls: amplifying, as it did, all the beauties and imperfections of the cast. At intermission, the sold-out audience spilled out onto the Bowery, chatting and comparing note in excited tones. I got roped into several conversations. That’s how it was - the place just provoked familiarity and openness among the audience members. I remember in the second act, Robespierre’s Reign of Terror was depicted by severed doll’s heads skewered on top of broomsticks.

But as comical as the primitive stagecraft could be, there was also a certain honesty to it all that I’ve rarely encountered at the opera. In the mid- to late- 20th century, opera as an artform was widely believed to be either dead or moribund. During its six decades of life, the Amato’s repertoire grew to 60 operas, showed us opera being tended to and kept alive by real people, people who cared deeply about and needed opera as much as it needed them. The Amato, and what it stood for, will be sorely missed.

Posted by A.J. Goldmann at 09:33:55 | Permalink | No Comments »