Bohuslav Martinů - What Men Live By, Jiří Bělohlávek Czech Philharmonic

World premiere recording from Supraphon of Bohuslav Martinů What Men Live By (H336,1952-3) with Jiří Bělohlávek and the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra from a live performances in 2014, with Martinů's Symphony no 1 (H289, 1942) recorded in 2016. Bělohlávek did much to increase Martinů's profile, so this recording adds to the legacy, and reveals an extremely fine work.  What Men Live By is an adaptation of Leo Tolstoy's Where Love, God Is (1885) though the composer borrowed the title from a different Tolstoy story.   At its first full performance, by students at Hunter College in 1955, critics heard it was "a profoundly Christian opera" but did not understand its context. That was not the composer's intention.  He wrote to  a friend in Brno comparing it to his earlier works based on medieval miracle plays, such as The Miracle of Mary , emphasizing that "it must not be performed 'pathetically' but joyously. That is why it is called an opera-pastoral. The text tempts one to adopt a serious and grave approach yet that was not what I planned. For me, it is a blithe work, and the listener must not perceive it as a religious moral (guidance) but has to feel joy".

It is also significant that The Miracle of Mary, written in Paris in 1936, reflected interest at that time among many composers, such as Arthur Honegger's Jeanne d'Arc au bûcher (please read more HERE), which Martinů would have known of, and Walter Braunfels's Die Verkündigung (Please read more HERE) which he would not have known, or even Carl Orff's Carmina Burana (1935-6).  At a time when Europe was facing the rise of extreme nationalism that used medievalism for legitimacy, Martinů and his peers’ adaptation of medieval form served a radically different purpose.  Therefore, it is a mistake to assume its lack of success was caused by its being deemed old-fashioned, when it in fact represents a significant thread in European music, which critics at the time might have missed.  In any case, by 1955, it could not have been lost on audiences that the composer himself was in exile and could not easily return to his homeland. What Men Live  By is simple, but not naive, a very sophisticated work despite its cheerful lightness: it’s a chamber oratorio sparsely but deftly scored, which benefits from Bělohlávek's sprightly touch.

Distinctively Czech themes run throughout the piece, notably in the introduction, which begins with a pipe organ, its melody taken up by pipes and then drums in jolly mock-medieval procession. Martinů's What Men Live By tells the story of Martin Avdejic, a lonely old cobbler who lives in a basement, where his window on the world allows him to see only the feet of those who pass by.  Ivan Kusjner sings Martin, his deep baritone suggests a down-to-earth working man. The chorus  (Martinů Voices) surround him with ethereal harmonies.  Martin has almost given up on life. A sorrowful solo violin plays, as Martin's lines are solemnly intoned, the choir repeating his words, like a response in church, the pattern reflected in the balance bewteen the two Narrators, Josef Špaček (spoken) and Jaroslav Březina (tenor).  A vision appears, embodied in the voice of the alto Ester Pavlů, who tells Martin that she will visit him the next day.  A very Bohemian sunrise, with horns, pipes and jaunty strings.  Zig-zag piano lines suggest the street outside Martin's workshop, full of busy people rushing past. Though he's waiting for his special visitor,  he welcomes in old Stepanovich  (the bass Jan Martiník) and gives him shelter from the snow.  Martin spots a woman (Lucie Silkenova) shivering in the cold, holding a baby.  Martin gives her a warm coat and cradles the child. "Surely it was He, himself, who sent me to you!", she sings. The chorus returns, singing as joyfully as pealing bells.   An old woman ( Ester Pavlů) is in the street, selling apples. A boy (Lukáš Mráček) playing harmonica (heard in the orchestration) steals one and runs but Martin stops work and chases him. The old woman wants to call the police. Martin asks the old woman to forgive the child, and she does. She once had seven children but now she's all alone. The boy then helps the old woman carry the sack and they walk off happily, to the sound of the harmonica.  A rustic chorale prepares us for the finale.  Martin goes to bed, disappointed but in the darkness he spots the people he'd met during the day. The alto and soprano join to sing the words of the Visitor Martin had been expecting. " In as much as ye have done to one of the least of these my brethren you have done it unto me,” the last two words haloed by the chorus.  The radiance in the last moments may suggest that Martin is borne up into Heaven.

Although What Men Live By might seem simple, Martinů emphasized the pitfalls of performing it without understanding its purpose. "The technical hurdles include the fact that the singer should not sing as is customary today (but) he should 'preach' and edify, striving to make the text moere expressive.  By and large these days, instead of a melody one hears something like uauauauaua, imbued with 'affection'" (possibly translation error for 'affectation'). "That would not be good", he continued. "It should be sung like a folk song devoid of pathos. I think that the text itself is beautiful and so it does not need to be in any way enhanced". Fortunately Bělohlávek and the Czech Philharmonic understand the Bohemian folk sources so thoroughly that they capture the free-spirited vigour in the piece, as far as one can get from stuffy "churchiness".  The text is in English, written by Martinů himself, so Bělohlávek's soloists, not being native English speakers, have strong accents.  But this is is in fact an advantage, because their accents emphasise the fundamentally Czech nature of this music and also the non-realism which Martinů was trying to achieve. They are all top-rank experienced singers, not students, and understand the idiom properly. As I was listening, I thought of the stylization of medieval mystery plays, where directness of message mattered most, without any pretence of verismo and over-colouring. This also connects to the clarity of the orchestration, simple figures and single instruments used for maximum effect. On this disc What Men Live By is paired with Martinů's Symphony no 1 which is a good choice, since the symphony begins with a striking ascendant theme which complements the finale of What Men Live By.  As Aleš Březina writes in his notes, "it should be pointed out that the avant garde composers in interwar Paris, where Martinů lived and worked from 1923 to 1941, set up their own aesthetic criteria in opposition to Late Romantic music.....while in the USA, symphonic music enjoyed great popularity". Martinů, who had no income other than royalties from earlier work, was glad to accept a commission from Serge Koussevitsky. The composer had some difficulty in proceeding, but,  once he was satisfied with that introduction, the rest of the symphony flowed.  Bělohlávek conducted all the Martinů symphonies in London with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, which are available on CD. He had planned to record them again with the Czech Philharmonic, but his illness intervened. On the basis of this performance, that series which never came to pass would have been outstanding.  Though here it is an add-on to the much rarer What Men Live By,  it is a recording to be cherished.

Bohuslav Martinů - The Epic of Gilgamesh

New recording of the English version of Bohuslav Martinů's The Epic of Gilgamesh, from Supraphon, the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Manfred Honeck.  This is the world  premiere recording of the text in English. Martinů, wrote the original based on an English language translation which he disliked, for pragmatic purposes. "Nowhere would they sing my piece in Czech", he told his family in 1955.  He need not have worried.  Soon after, a Czech translation became available, which, to this date has been the standard version used in performance, with several fine recordings.  The piece is recognized as one of Martinů's key works and a part of Czech core repertoire. So what's it like hearing it in English ?

The opening erupts in the cry "Gilgamesh!" chorus alternating between soloist. group against individual.  Gilgamesh was all-powerful, but an oppressor  Martinů, who spoke good English,  was right about the clumsiness of the translation.  "To the appeal of their waiting, Goddess Aruru gave ear. She fingered out of clay......Enkidu made she, a warrior"  Jan Martiník sings the bass part. He's the only native Czech speaker in this cast, and possibly the youngest soloist. Because the text is so archaic, his (very) slight accent works well, since it emphasizes the stylized non-realism central to the work, and indeed to its origins. Yet Martiník also manages to nuance his singing with emotion. As he describes Enkidu, the wild man, finding human solace, his voice softens.  The music changes, flurries on harp suggest the flowing of water, the bringing of life to the desert from which Enkidu came.  The choral part (Prague Philharmonic Choir) is lit by searching lines in the orchestra.  The soloists don't portray individuals : the flow between choir, orchestra and individual voices progresses the piece structurally. Gilgamesh and Enkiddu end up in epic struggle, the choral lines moving back and forth until the dramatic breakthrough.           
Andrew Staples sings the tenor part, demonstrating the unique artistic qualities of the English Tenor voice type. He makes the awkward, jerky text curl and bristle with sinister tension. "When  I entered the House of the Dead, the Queen of the Underworld, she saw me, she lifted her head, she saw me...."  Although the other soloists (Lucy Crowe and Derek Welton) are good, the "personality" of the voice type hints at extra levels of meaning, making this English version worth listening to.  Enkidu lies dying, and Gilgamesh, now his friend, grieves. Welton's last lines are followed by tiny broken fragments in the orchestra. The choir comments, male and female lines crossing and combining with the fluidity of waters in a river.
The final section, the Invocation, begins with vaguely "Babylonian" rhythms. An unearthly, high pitched "O!" wails from time to time (Lucy Crowe), her cry linking the disparate segments.  Tension builds. Gilgamesh enters the Temple of Enlil searching for the dead Enkidu. The orchestra pulsates savage ostinato, developing into a tumult of windswept frenzy.  Suddenly, the sound of single bells. For a brief moment, the two interact, as if in embrace. The baritone (Welton) asks about the afterlife. The bass (Martiník)  can only say "I saw, I saw", expressed with great feeling.
The Epic of Gilgamesh has come down to us in broken fragments : we don't know the whole story and cannot understand the full cultural context.  It's enough that we can glimpse it through the archaic symbolism of Martinů's music. The quality of singing in this performance (particularly the English tenor) makes it worth hearing, though the narration (Simon Callow), while suitably theatrical overpowers the purity of the music.  Thus I'd dare say that the Czech text should remain  unchallenged.  Whether it's better than the English translation or not, I do not know, but the richness and depth of Czech language recordings is far more rewarding, in particular the recording by Belohlavek, also with the Prague Symphony Orchestra and also for Supraphon, nearly 20 years ago.  In marketing terms, some might assume you need an "international" style, but quite frankly,  the pungency of Czech is unique, and brings out the true punch in Martinů.  

Hussite Hymns - Jakub Hrůša Bohemian Prom

At Prom 56, Jakub Hrůša conducted the BBC Symphony Orchestra in a programme on the theme of the Hussite Wars and their place in Bohemian culture - Smetana, Martinů, Dvořák, Janáček and Josef Suk. Pity the BBC publicity machine branded this  "The Bohemian Reformation", like Nigel Farage squealing "Independence Day" as if the fate of the nation was a movie.  The Hussite movement happened started a hundred years before the Luther Reformation. They were wiped out.  Jan Hus (1369-1416) was burnt at the stake and the religious ideas he espoused largely forgotten. But the movement became a cultural symbol, adapted to the growth of Czech identity. Hrůša's programme was much more than tub-thumping nationalism.  In any case, there's a lot more to national heritage than bombastic bullying. Hrůša's Prom was a sophisticated, musically literate  study of specific themes in Bohemian music history, and needs to be appreciated in musical terms.

Hrůša started with the Hussite hymn Ktož jsú boží bojovníci (Ye Who Are Warriors of God), the men of the BBC Singers singing without accompaniment.  Though we rarely hear the hymn as hymn, its tune is familiar.  Smetana used it in Má vlast, quoting it in the section Tábor which we heard here, the town of Tábor being a Hussite fortress.  Thus the quiet, tense introduction, developed through brass and timpani, which grows bolder as the hymn emerges.  Triumphant climaxes and the hymn theme surges. But as we know, the Hussites were annihilated.  Thus Blaník depicts the even earlier legend that St Wenceslaus, patron saint of Bohemia, will return to defend the nation.  Smetana, writing at a time when Bohemia was ruled by the Hapsburgs, drew connections between the tenth-century saint and the Hussites. The strong angular themes in Tábor return in even greater glory in Blaník: massive drum rolls and crashing cymbals

In 1938, Czechoslovakia was annexed by Germany, with the implicit approval of Britain.  Bohuslav Martinů's Polní mše, H. 279 Field Mass (1939) was written for Czech exiles fighting with the French against the Germans. Thus the strange instrumentation, with brass and percussion employed to suggest the idea of performance in battlefield conditions.  Drum rolls, marching rhythms,  trumpet calls and a chorus of male voices. But also piano and harmonium and a part for baritone soloist beyond the scope of an average amateur.  Fortunately, in Svatopluk Sem, we heard one of the most distinctive voices in the repertoire. Sem is a stalwart of the National Theatre in Prague, well known to British audiences for his work with Jiří Bělohlávek who transformed the way Czech music is heard in this country.  Sem delivered with great authority, imbuing the words with almost biblical portent.  His text is based on poetry by Jiří Mucha, who was soon to marry Vítezslava Kaprálová. (please read more about her here  Her Military Sinfonietta (1937) would have worked well in this programme, though it doesn't include a part for choir.

In Martinů's Field Mass, the choir acts as foil to the soloist, voices in hushed unison, mass (in every sense) supporting the individual.  Though their music is relatively straightforward Miserere, Kyrie and psalm, this simplicity enhances the idea of mutual support, reflecting the relationship betweenpiano with harmonium, voices and soloists surrounded by atmospheric percussion and brass.  The version we heard at this Prom is the new edition by Paul Wingfield.

Somewhat less spartan instrumentation for Dvořák's Hussite Overture O67 (1883) though the hymn-like purity of the anthem  rings through clearly. The rough hewn faith of the Hussites doesn't support exaggeration.  Full crescendos and running figures, (piccolo and flutes) flying free from the fierce "hammerblows"of the hymn.  A glowing finale, from the BBC SO in full flow.   The pounding rhythms of  the Hussite hymn come to the fore in the Song of the Hussites  from The Excursions of Mr. Brouček to the Moon and to the 15th Century   Here the reference to the hymn is used for satire, contrasting the  morality of the Hussites with the depravity of modern life, represented by the feckless, drunken Mr Brouček. To conclude this huge, ambitious programme,

Josef Suk's Prague op 26 (1904), in a tribute to Jiří Bělohlávek who made the BBC SO one of the finest Czech orchestras outside Czechia.  (Please read my tribute to  Bělohlávek with many links to his London performances of Czech repertoire. ).The same goes for the BBC Singers who sing Czech pretty well.  The piece was written at a dark time in Suk's life, after the death of his wife Ottilie and father-in-law Antonin Dvořàk. It connects to Suk's Asrael Symphony (op 27, 1905)  and even to The Ripening ( op 34, 1912-7).  All three pieces deal with death, made almost bearable by faith, despite extreme grief.In Suk's Prague, the Hussite hymn makes an appearance as a symbol of something that lives on beyond temporal restraints., Suk seems to be surveying the city he loved, contrasting its history of struggle with his present.  Perhaps, as he looked out on the castle, cathedral and the Rudolfinium, he could position his sorrow in a wider context. People die, but cultures remain.   That's why I feel so strongly that the term "Bohemian Reformation" is a crock. There''s a lot more to heritage than simplistic nationalism.  Hrůša conducted Suk's Prague with such intensity, that the performance eclipsed all else in an evening filled with high points. 

Jakub Hrůša's belated Proms debut but he is one of the most exciting conductors around, full of character and individuality.  Though he's young, he's extremely experienced, and at a high level. In the UK, he's conducted at Glyndebourne and with the BBC SO and the Philharmonia, where he becomes Chief Guest Conductor next season.  He is a natural in Czech repertoire, and a possible successor to Bělohlávek, whose memorial he conducted in Prague, but he's also very good in other material. Definitely a conductor to follow. 

Please also read my article Smetana's role in the modernization of China   and many other posts on Czech repertoire, film etc.

Jiří Bělohlávek : tribute to the innovator and to the man

Jiří Bělohlávek, conducting Dvořák's Requiem in Prague, April, 2017

Jiří Bělohlávek died last night. He was only 71,  but such was his stature that his death feels like the end of an era. Indeed, he transformed the whole way Czech music is heard, and revealed the treasures of Czech repertoire to the world.  He was also a gentleman, with charisma and integrity.  Even though he didn't speak much English when he was appointed as Chief Conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra in 2005, he communicated his enthusiasm so effectively the BBC SO grew close to him.  As Chief of the BBC SO,  he had to give the traditional speech at the Last Night of the Proms., which he did three times. At first, he read from a script, but by 2012, he was so "at home" that he joked, ad libbed and interacted with the audience, like we were all part of a family. In retrospect, he seemed unwell, even then.

In the intervening years, Bělohlávek's bouffant mane disappeared, and he grew thin.  His pugnacious body language  gave way to frailty.  Yet his travails seemed to galvanize his musicianship.  On April 13th this year, he conducted Dvořák's Requiem with the BBC SO at the Barbican (read my review here).  He seemed fatigued, perhaps because he'd conducted it in Prague a few days before.  Yet he  was putting very deep feeling into the performance, so much so that the intensity was almost too hard to take.  Emotional truth is sometimes hard to take. Once the immediate impact  subsided I kept thinking and thinking about the music itself, and its meaning. That, not technical polish nor received tradition, is the sign of a truly great artist.  Everyone knows the recording with Karel Ancerl, but Bělohlávek reached into the true soul of the music   Last week, one of my friends had a presentiment  and checked Bělohlávek's schedule, to find that he'd cancelled concerts in May.  So perhaps that Dvořák's Requiem was Bělohlávek's farewell, though no-one quite expected it, a farewell to his two favourite orchestras and to audience who had grown to love him as if he were a personal friend. 

Through him, the BBC SO, the Barbican and London connected with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra and with the National Theatre of Prague.  Bělohlávek reintroduced Czech opera and vocal music to Britain in Czech, revealing the pugnacious, vibrant quality of the original language, so essential to proper, idiomatic performance. This matters, since Britain was receptive to Czech music very early on.  Dvořák and Janáček wrote masterpieces for British audiences. Even Kaprálová premiered her work in London, where her friend and colleague Rafael Kubelik conducted at the Royal Opera House.  Britain discovered Czech music long before Mackerras, and rediscovered it again with  Bělohlávek  Who knows what might have happened had the communists not taken Czechoslovakia, forcing Kubelik into exile?  Read more HERE about  Bělohlávek's early career. Though Bělohlávek was assistant  to Vaclav Neumann, in many ways he was Kubelik's true heir. And Ancerl's, too, for that matter.

For more detail about a fraction of Bělohlávek's concerts in recent years 

Autumn Elegy: Mahler Das Lied von der Erde
Janáček : The Makropulos Affair Prom
Janáček Jenůfa Royal Festival Hall
Czech Philharmonic 120th anniversary concert, Prague
Smetana Dalibor : BBCSO Barbican
Dvořák The Jacobin 2012
Janáček Glagolitic Mass Prom
Mahler 8
Martinů Juliette, Magdalena Kožená
Janáček  : The Excursions of Mr Brouček
Janáček : Osud

Jurowski : Kancheli and blazing Ralph Vaughan Williams

Vladimir Jurowski (photo : Thomas Kurek)

Vladimir Jurowski at his finest in last week's concert at the Royal Festival Hall with the London Philharmonic Orchestra, part of their ongoing series Belief and Beyond Belief.  Jurowski is special to me because he's an extremely spiritual personality,  who thinks deeply about music as part of human experience. When Jurowski speaks, he's worth listening to;  he doesn't do small talk. A while back, he did a series in Russia about war and peace for audiences that didn't look like they spent much time in black tie. His choices were eclectic, even avant garde, but he described them in such a way that the audience held onto his every word. He communicated such sincerity that he drew respect even when the language barrier intervened. The South Bank is so full of hype these days that's it's annoying even to navigate the website. But there's nothing fake about Vladimir Jurowski.

In this concert, Jurowski and the LPO did an unconventional but thoughtful programme  Giya Kancheli Mourned by the Wind and  Bohuslav Martinů: Memorial to Lidice together with Ralph Vaughan Williams Symphony no 9.  Fortunately it's now broadcast on BBC Radio 3 , since going to the South Bank is more pain than pleasure these days.  The other big plus is that we get to hear Jurowski talk about the music, more fluently than most presenters. Third bonus, as interval feature Herbert Howell's a capella chorale Take him, Earth, for cherishing.

Kancheli called Mourned by the Wind (1988) a "Liturgy" but it's not religious so much as an intense, personal outpouring of grief for a dead friend.  It begins with a single chord which resonates into silence. The viola enters, quietly at first, playing a figure that hovers back and forth between two poles. Isabelle van Keuelen held the line firmly, unswayed by the sudden cataclysmic outburst in the orchestra behind her.  Fierce staccato blasts, another cataclysm, wilder than the first, with thundering timpani, and another "death stroke" single chord.  But the viola isn't defeated.  Emerging from a rumbling, shimmering background it defines a melody that evolves into delicately plucked patterns: resplendent like starlight.  The "death strokes" return, wave after wave, but the viola holds its plaintive line, until it evaporates into silence.  

Martinů Memorial to Lidice (1943) commemorates Lidice in Bohemia, obliterated by the Nazis. Again the subject matter is death but on a more abstract musical level; the connections include contrasting poles. In Kancheli the tension swings between staccato orchestra and solo viola, In Martinů, the contrast is between brute force and the innocence of folk music. 

Thus a dramatic context was set for Vaughan Williams's Ninth Symphony from 1956-7.  Whatever the symphony may or  may not be about,  Jurowski gave it a savage power and majesty one doesn't often associate with British music. All to the good, for here, at the very end of his life, RVW is breaking new ground. He will not "go gentle into that good night".  He uses saxophones in sassy chorus, and a flugelhorn, extending the low resonance of the brasses, which include tuba, and contrabassoon. Dark colours of foreboding and passages which march with demonic violence. 

It's also a strikingly modern work, vividly experimental and unabashed, as Jurowski's approach made clear.  No wonder critics 60 years ago didn't know what to make of it.  As Edward Said said, "late style" can be liberating since a composer no longer needs to conform. Elliott Carter joked that in his own "late, late style", he didn't have to seek approval from anyone but himself.  Yet RVW is totally in control of his powers, highly disciplined, attention focused on essentials, nothing superficial. He uses the flugelhorn for a purpose, as if blasting away at the veneer of conventional "good taste". Life's too precious to fritter mindlessly away!  The tightness of the orchestration was reflected in the strength of the performance, the LPO surpassing themselves.  An RVW Ninth that was monumental in every way.  If the LPO doesn't release this commercially, it will enter the bootleg market as a milestone in RVW interpretation. 

ENO Martinů Julietta - review

The ENO gave the British premiere of Bohuslav Martinů's Julietta many years ago, so this new production was eagerly awaited. But what will audiences new to Martinů get from this production? It's a myth that the English language makes opera more accessible.  That just means audiences focus on words, rather than really listening or understanding.  Martinů's Julietta is a highly conceptual opera, with deliberate ambiguities and mind games. Just as in dreams, there are clues and contradictions. If ever there was an opera where listeners had to keep alert and pay attention, this is it. The opera predicates on dream states, but sleepwalking through Martinů's Julietta isn't wise.

The production dates from 2002 when it was first seen in Paris. The Overture opens to images of sleeping figures floating in space (or amniotic fluid).  One figure emerges, Michel Lepic (Peter Hoare), bookseller by day, dreamer by night. The main set is a giant mock up of an accordion, which also serves to suggest the walls of a house from whose windows various characters appear at critcial points in the opera.  Musically, this is perceptive, for Martinů writes an evocative solo for accordion into the first act, and the mechanics of  the instrument suggest "lungs" or breathing. Accordions also evoke folk music, and thus memories of the past. A horn player walks round, his music evoking other, more sophisticated memories, offereing hope to those who have lost the past. 
 
In this strange dream village, no-one can remember anything of the past. Nothing connects. If this is a landlocked European village, why is there a ship? Where do the Old Arab (Gwynne Howell) and Young Arab (Emilie Renard) fit in?  The implication is that without memory, we're eternally adrift. It is significant that Martinů returned to Julietta at the end of his life, after decades of wandering through Europe and the United States.This gives the opera emotional depth, and is important to interpretation. As a musician, Martinů was sensitive to the power of music, where small snippets awake vast rivers of memory, so the many references to other music are deliberate. Even if some are barely more than wisps, their embedded presence is part of the meaning.

The giant accordion turns and moves, but within the orchestra Martinů writes fragments for solo instruments or small units like 3 oboes. The vast world theatre, and the tiny individual. This theme runs through the opera on several levels. Michel is alone in the busy village, and in the Central Office of Dreams he can't beat the bureaucratic machine.  In the last act, the Accorion turns over so it resembles a giant, hideous skull, its keys reesembling the keys of a piano, the working tool of most composers.
  
Apart from Michel himself, the characters appear in different forms, and the Three Gentlemen in Frock Coats (as described in the score) sing in unison.  Even Julietta (Julia Sporsén) is illusory, and needs to create an articial past through the postcards the Seller of Memories (Andrew Shore) peddles to the unwary.  Gradually Michel is drawn deeper into delusion. Who shoots Julietta? Did she, can she die? It doesn't matter. People in this cosmos have no attention span.  But as an audience, we do, which is why small details count, however elusive.

Anarchic as dreams are, performance should be rigorous. Martinů writes lusciously lyrical figures which seduce the ear, magically. But the Third Act tells us quite categorically that one cannot escape into the luxury of reverie. Beneath this lovely score lies a bedrock of anxiety. Is Michel all that different from the other inhabitants of this dream?  He sells books (fiction?) after all. The Convict and the Blind Beggar are fixated by the same dream that takes the form of a lovely, elusive woman.  Tension, anxiety and claustrophobia are fundamental to this music. Sharp staccatos, like the ticking of a clock, alarm bells. Yet at the ENO this sense of impending cataclysm was defused. Edward Gardner's Julietta is a pretty, light hearted reverie, not nightmare. The defining extremes in this core are smoothed over, so the firm structure of the opera becomes fragmented.

The singers, even the better ones like Hoare, Shore, Howell, Susan Bickley, Henry Waddington, Emilie Renard and Jeffrey Lloyd Roberts are solid rather than haunting. Martinů 's Julietta is not easy to stage but ironically the visuals (directed by Richard Jones, designed by Antony McDonald) were far more effective than the performance. We need to see this production because it's historic, and good. But anyone who wants to hear what the opera really should sound like should stick to the recordings. Krombholc (1964) is top recommendation, Mackerras conducts only fragments. When the complete new edition, recorded by Jiří Bělohlávek in 2009 is released, that will be the one to get. I've been listening to an aircheck of the broadcast. Even on an amateur quality tape, the true spirit of Martinů 's Julietta shines through, magical and manic in turns. There have been several stagings of Martinů's operas in recent years, and of course the full symphonic cycle, but Julietta is outstanding.  This ENO performance doesn't begin to reach those heights. I can't blame anyone thinking that  Martinů 's Julietta is mediocre if they haven't heard what it can sound like.

A full review with cast list will appear shortly in Opera Today. Photographs by Richard Hubert Smith, courtesy ENO.

ENO Martinu Julietta preview

Who is dreaming of whom? Martinů's opera Julietta at the ENO from Monday 17th.   For my review, please see HERE. A man arrives in a strange village where nothing seems quite right. The villagers have no memories to bind them to reality, so things unfold without sense or connection. But what is reality? The opera’s subtitle is “The Key to Dreams”, which implies a search for meaning, whether or not it can be unlocked. From the orchestra emerges a lovely, haunting melody. The man thinks he’s heard it before, connected to a vague memory - a beautiful woman ? He’s determined to pursue the dream which seems to fade as fast as it unfolds. The woman is Juliette, shining bright and golden, “like a star in the firmament”.

Deeper the man goes, into a dark forest, where he meets a Seller of Memories, who sells photographs of exotic places. The man buys into the images, convinced that they show his past with the woman he’s searching for. Eventually the man finds himself in The Central Office of Dreams which people enter and leave when they sleep. Closing time! warns the nightwatchman (who was also the Seller of Memories). Wake or you’re forever trapped! But Juliette is such a powerful, seductive dream that the man would rather remain in eternal limbo than lose her.

Julietta is marvellously conceptual. Strange figures appear as they do in dreams. They feel full of portent, but what do they really signify? Are they signposts or red herrings?  What is the nature of memory? Is memory truth, or an assemblage of images which we've rearranged ourselves?  And why do we need dreams (and memories) at all?  Martinů said that Julietta was the only one of his works that he would like to hear again.  Hence, perhaps, he returned to it and revised in as he lay dying in 1959. More "memories" and "dreams".

The ENO production is directed by Richard Jones, so expect modernist. See production images HERE. Obviously we can't tell by photos but this looks like he and his designer Antony McDonald are picking up on an important theme that runs through the opera. Listen to the opera yourself and hear if you can pick up on this.  The benchmark recording was made in Prague in 1964, only five years after the composer's death. Jaroslav Krombholc conducts singers prominent in Pragiue Opera at the time - Maria Tauberova, Ivo Zidek, and Véra Soukupová.

Martinů's Julietta received a major full performance in 2009, conducted by Jiří Bělohlávek with Roderick Williams in multiparts, William Burden and a gorgeous Magdalena Kožená. (read my review here). That's not available on CD though airchecks from the broadcast exist. It's superb and quite magical. It really ought to be released, as it was the first complete version, based on a new edition including passages not available in 1964.

Above all, listen. Julietta is sung by Julia Sporsén in one of the biggest roles in her career, and the rest of the cast are ENO regulars. Susan Bickley sings the Fortune Teller which Soukupová sang for Krombholc.  Lots more on Martinů on this site, please explore.

Gardiner Martinů Dvořák Prom 58

Here's Douglas Cooksey on John Eliot Gardiner's Prom 58. Dvořák, Martinů, Janáček and Grieg, with the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra and Lars Vogt. An interesting experiment hearing JEG's early music sensibilities adapted to the 20th century. Bělohlávek in this repertoire is almost unsurpassable, so idiomatic and original. Why swap conductors?  Nonetheless, I enjoyed this more than Douglas did.

OTOH, maybe I appreciated it more after the disappointment of the 2 Osmo Vänskä Proms. Someone described the Minnesota Orchestra a a well-drilled machine. Worthy and reliable, but machines don't drive themselves. How Beethoven 9 can be earthbound, I don't know. There's a point at which underplayed dynamics merge into blandness. And Alisa Weilerstein impressed me less than when I heard her with Barenboim in May. She's good, but not "that" good yet.

Vänskä  was a near contemporary at the Sibelius Academy with Magnus Lindberg, Esa-Pekka Salonen and Kaija Saariaho, but unlike them stayed in rural Finland, building up a regional orchestra specializing in Sibelius and mainstream repertoire.  Moving to Minnesota wasn't quite such a leap into the unknown for  Vänskä as there are thousands of Finns in the region (where it's cold and there are forests and lakes). In fact at one stage there were more Finnish newspapers there than in Finland. Maybe what these Proms are saying is, get conductors out of their comfort zones and see how they do. Above is the Sibelius Hall in Lahti. Look, no trees! There is a harbour on the other side. When it's snowing, this glass-clad building must disappear in the mist.

Martinů new opera - Big Launch

Big launch for the unfinished Martinů opera Le Jour de bonté (The day of charity). Czech label Arco Diva has made the world premiere recording. It gets a big launch on November 14th at Leicester Square in London - "a multi media event" film, live performance, discussion, etc.  Martinů completed (more or less) the first two acts, so the fragment runs 73 minutes, enough to give an idea what it might have been like. A young couple set off from their native village to do acts of kindness in the world. Apparently, the music's based on piano and percussion, no flutes or horns.  The CD is already available, so we can brush up in advance of the launch. Please read HERE about Martinů's Julietta, which is wonderful!  That's on CD too, now.

Martinů's Field Mass broadcast

Listen to Martinů's Field Mass HERE. It's part of a very long broadcast of excerpts from summer music festivals all round Europe this year. The Field Mass comes from this year's commemorative held in Martinů's home village, so it's specially heartfelt. The sincerity of this performance brings it alive: it's not recorded "in the field" but in the church which the composer attended as a boy, which gives it a directness you don't get in more formal studio situations. It's Ivan Kusnjer, the Czech Phil Chamber Orchestra and Marko Ivanovic.

It starts around 3 hours into a 4 hour broadcast, but the rest of the programme is worth catching if you didn't get to the European festivals they came from, in Norway, Finland, Austria and the Czech Republic. Anne Sofie von Otter sings Bach with Concertus Copenhagen, Paul Lewis plays the Diabellis at Schwarzenberg, Mendelssohn chorales at Bodensee and a new Dvoràk festival with Belòhlávek. Thru the year, we get many of the big European festivals but you have to be quick to spot them on the schedules.

Martinů and Bělohlávek Prom 15 2009

Jiří Bělohlávek continues to work wonders. He's changing the face of music in Britain. Not since Kubelik in the late 1940's has there been a conductor who understands the syntax of Slavic music because he is a native speaker. It really does make a difference. He's also good because he's prepared to bring more of the repertoire into prominence. It helps, too, that he knows everyone and can bring in good musicians that we might otherwise miss. Read about his Janacek Prom 2008 Osud, his recording of The Excursions of Mr Broucek and the wonderful Martinů Julietta with Magdalena Kozena.

Take note. Bělohlávek will be conducting the biggest ever series of Martinů symphonies ever heard in Britain later this year at the Barbican. In New York, Alan Gilbert will be weaning audiences onto the composer too. This Prom was a taster for the future. Here's a review by my friend Douglas Cooksey (read his report on the Risor Festival in Norway) who doesn't like Martinů as much as I do but writes better.

Just the tonic, gin optional : cheerful Martinů at Garsington

“Life is too important to be taken seriously” goes my motto. That could describe this cheerful production, just the right good-humored tonic for these difficult times.

Garsington Opera is quintessential English Country House opera. Garsington Manor is a private house, not normally open to the public, but for a few weeks in early summer it hosts a season of opera in a temporary theater. The whole manor is a piece of theater. It stands on a hilltop overlooking the rural Oxfordshire countryside. It’s designed so the distant horizon looks like an extension of the garden. It’s spectacular trompe d’oeil. At night, statues around the vast, formal lily pond are spotlighted so they glow softly in the darkness. The theater itself is completely open on one side, overlooking a beautiful walled English garden, which can be used to extend the stage area. Indeed, wind, rain and the occasional bird sometimes take part in shows. The atmosphere is unique.

It’s an ideal setting for a light-hearted opera like Mirandolina. Martinů delighted in commedia dell’arte and saw the possibilities of adapting Goldoni’s La Locandiera for the modern stage. Onto this Martinů builds musical jokes, complete with recitatives, arias, moments of Italianate color and stretches of spoken dialogue. This isn’t farce, it’s far too warm hearted and funny. Nor is it slapstick, as it’s too relaxed. As Martinů said it’s “ a light, uncomplicated thing”, fun for the sake of fun.

Mirandola is the hotel owner who likes to tease men but loses interest once they fall for her charms. Her suitors are noblemen whose very names are jokes, like “Albafiorita” and “Forlimpopoli” announced with great flourish. When she gets the woman-hating Cavaliere to love her, she marries her waiter instead. There is room for spicier things, like the sub plot where tarty “actresses” try to pass themselves off as ladies of the nobility, but Martinů chooses not to develop these ideas, focusing instead on sunny insouciance.

The set is gorgeous, bright vivid shades of orange, yellow red and blue, a reference to the “sunny Italy” in the plot, or perhaps to the life the composer was enjoying on the Riviera when the opera was written. Special mention should be made of the costumes, as vivid as the cartoons in 18^th century broadsheets. They are so watchable that they make up for the lack of character development.

The translation is by Jeremy Sams. It’s so deadpan and maudlin, it evokes cackles of laughter. Indeed, there are choruses made up entirely of laughs “ha ha ha ha, and oh oh oh, ha ha ha weaving merry rhythms. Mirandolina ‘s grandmother taught her a ditty, “Long live wine and love and laughter". It’s banal but sung with such fervour it’s funny. Word setting otherwise misses the mark, but again, this isn’t High Art but fluff.

Performances could have been more polished, livening up the pace to sharpen comic delivery, but this isn’t the kind of opera where or feats of vocal fireworks are needed. Juanita Lascarro, the heroine, is the only naturalistic role in a company of caricatures, so her part gave her range to show her skills.

Mirandolina would fall flat as serious opera, heard in more formal surroundings, but at Garsington, where you’re mellow with the ambience and fuelled with good champagne, it’s plain good fun. So grandmother had it right after all. As long as you have “wine and love and laughter”, things can’t be all bad.

See full review and pix HERE

Marriage is a farce, Guildhall

Operas at the Guildhall School of Music are always fun. Currently, there's a double bill of satires on the sacred institution of marriage. The show repeats on 5th, 8th and 10th, so try and go. It's a good cause and young performers need support.

The first part of the evening was Martinu 's The Marriage based on a play by Gogol. A man thinks it would be a good idea to be married except he hasn't found the girl. Somehow it ends up with two marriage brokers, five suitors and one terrified girl, and he chickens out at the last moment. The plot is pretty slight, and the music (1952), while amusing isn't Great Art but entertaining.

The set is built so "rooms" change by moving a cut out panel across the Guildhall stage. It's a good solution for the Guildhall stage which is wide but not deep. Designs reference Franz Marc and Expressionist painters, perhaps even Cezanne and there's a connection too to mumming tradition and 1920's horror films. These references are appropriate, but it's a bit erudite, and a lot to take in for a fairly inconsequential piece. Maybe that's why it needed boosting, but such puff and fluff can be easily be overwhelmed.

The real highlight was the early Rossini farce La cambiale di matrimonio. Again, the subject is marriage as a cynical commercial transaction. This time the stage becomes a pole dance nightclub, with several different focal points as the action switches. This was very good, well thought through and witty. It would transfer to great advantage on a much bigger stage and hall.

Sleazebag club owning father wants to sell daughter off to strange Canadian, but is racy slapstick, gags and some very decent arias. The seedy sex industry reference is unfortunately all too relevant these days, and this production brings out the sharpness of Rossini's social observation. It's certainly lots more than Romantic fluff.

The direction is by Alessandro Talevi, who's already developing a distinct "personality" - wit, panache, madcap. Sometimes over the top but better that he tries and thinks like that than some of the parsimonious, bland productions we've seen and pointless grimness we see too much of. Channel his enthusiasm well, and Talevi will have a lot to contribute. Designs are by Madeleine Boyd.

Singing, dancing and acting were pretty average, which is only to be expected in performers this young. Duncan Rock in the main role in Martinu, Derek Welton as Mill in Rossini were strong players. Welton was the star in the last Guildhall show, Sallinen's The King Goes Forth to France. (read review HERE), and was Rock's servant in Martinu, and Mill's Nicky Spence, who is fairly well established, made a wonderfully arch Kochkaryov, the friend of the bachelor in Martinu's piece, gloriously sleazy yet sinister - a Grand Guignol Stephen Fry.

Rebecca van den Berg was a lively Fanny in Rossini, singing with confidence and charm. Lots of other good performances, including Rhona McKail, Hannah Hipp, Andrew Finden, Emily Steventon, Raquel Luis, Emily Blanch, Jonathan Sells, Daniel Joy and Carlos Noguiera, in no particular order. And lots of extras ! Different cast on different days.

Oddly enough, one performer stood out, not because his roles were big but because he had that magic that is "stage presence".Adam Torrance was one of the crowd of Calais burghers in the recent Sallinen skit, employee in Rossini. Not at all major parts but somehow he has something extra. Comic edge maybe? Personality counts, in all things, not just on the stage.
photo credit

Alan Gilbert stuns Berlin and NY

Three years ago, Alan Gilbert stepped in at Berlin at short notice for Bernard Haitink, no less. An intimidating debut, even for a fairly experienced conductor like Gilbert. No one was expecting miracles from the young and relatively unknown conductor. But he surprised the sophisticated Philharmonie crowd. So he was asked back. Three weeks ago he conducted Dvorak and Martinu's 4th Symphony. Said the Berliner Morgenpost, Gilbert "demonstrated everything he has as a conductor and musician. They’re not often the same thing. He ripped Bohuslav Martinu from the perpetual twilight that has been so negligently inflicted upon him, and, with an enlightened performance of the Fourth Symphony, demonstrated the gravitas, greatness, and originality of this
master. A musical panorama of great density came to the fore; for Gilbert and the curious orchestra (which last played this symphony 20 years ago) knew exactly how to put it across – with utmost intensity.”

I heard the concert before reading anything and heartily concur. The Berliners are of course such a good orchestra that they can play on auto pilot, making everything sound good, even when they're being conducted by someone engaged for "crowd appeal" as was the case recently. With Gilbert, they are genuinely animated – you can see the difference in their body language and the way they respond musically as if they're enjoying the experience. Gilbert loves Martinu, and has done so long before the anniversary, so his enthusiasm must have come through to the orchestra. This was lively, Martinu with wit and energy. Very impressive! Gilbert knows that this orchestra won't be fooled by flashy showmanship, so he gets through to them through his love for the music. The whole programme is intelligently put together. Dvorak's Noon Witch complements the sense of magic and menace in the Martinu symphony, for example. Hear the conductor talk with Emmanuel Pahud, the flautist, no mean soloist himself. Hear and watch for yourself on the Berliner Philharmoniker site.

Gilbert 's taking over as Music Director at the New York Philharmonic in September, replacing Lorin Maazel. Will notoriously conservative New York audiences cope with the contrast ? Last week, he conducted Martinu 4 again, which hadn't been heard in NY since 1986, so perhaps it was almost "new music". Gilbert is refreshing because he's a real musician's musician. A few years ago, when he brought the Lyons orchestra to London, something went seriously wrong. You could feel the players panic as the performance disintegrated. Yet Gilbert pepped them up, and pulled them back on message. They were playing Mahler's 7th Symphony, where horrible nightmares are vanquished by dawn. Never had the finale sounded so heartfelt !

When Gilbert's appointment at New York was announced there were some nasty remarks from people who had no idea how he conducted, although he has sound experience and a good reputation in Europe, particularly for a man still young. Yet he's a native New Yorker. His mother is a violinist at the NY Phil so he'll be his mother's boss. But Gilbert is the real article. He's a serious hunk, (six foot five), but what makes him so interesting is that he's not celebrity for the sake of publicity, but an intelligent and thoughtful musician. LA may grab headlines, but Gilbert could give New York musical substance.

But will it be appreciated ? Martinu is hardly difficult or cutting edge, and indeed is firmly rooted in the mainstream. Yet, according to a reliable report, the NY audience walked out even before the piece started. Obviously they are such experts that they can judge without needing to hear.

Bohuslav Martinů : Juliette, Kožená

Many works by Martinů will be performed in this year’s commemoration of the anniversary of his death, but it would be hard to equal the impact of this performance. Much of its success was due to Magdalena Kožená, whose presence illuminated the whole opera, even though her moments on stage were fleeting.

A man arrives in a strange village where nothing seems quite right. The villagers have no memories to bind them to reality, so things unfold without sense or connection. But what is reality? The opera’s subtitle is “The Key to Dreams”, which implies a search for meaning, whether or not it can be unlocked.

From the orchestra emerges a lovely, haunting melody. The man thinks he’s heard it before, connected to a vague memory - a beautiful woman ? He’s determined to pursue the dream which seems to fade as fast as it unfolds. The woman is Juliette, shining bright and golden, “like a star in the firmament”.

Deeper the man goes, into a dark forest, where he meets a Seller of Memories, who sells photographs of exotic places. The man buys into the images, convinced that they show his past with the woman he’s searching for. Eventually the man finds himself in The Central Office of Dreams which people enter and leave when they sleep. On ferme! warns the nightwatchman (who was also the Seller of Memories). Wake or you’re forever trapped! But Juliette is such a powerful, seductive dream that the man would rather remain in eternal limbo than lose her.

Bohuslav Martinů’s Juliette materialized at the Barbican, London, in a new edition of the urtext, using the French version the composer wrote on his deathbed in 1959. He lived most of his adult life in France, so it’s perhaps poignant that he should return to his masterpiece in this way.

Hardly any staging was needed, for the action unfolds like a dream, utterly adrift from rules of cause and logic. Indeed, what narrative there is lurks in the music. The orchestral writing is densely vivid but at critical moments the density clears and a solo instrument takes centre stage. At first, it’s an accordion, then horn, clarinet and oboe, then a particularly evocative melody on piano which surrounds Juliette’s entries. It’s like in dreams where a single image comes into focus, like symbolic portent. Each time Juliette’s music returns, impressions deepen and become frustratingly familiar. Have we heard it before ? And where ? In dreams, the mind fixes on details and follows their trail. Martinů uses allusions from music as tantalizing clues. There’s a snippet from L’Histoire du Soldat, just before the Fortune teller scatters cards. Then, a quotation from L’Après-midi d’un Faune, evoking a mood of frustrated love and longing. The villagers lack memory so can't find meaning : the composer uses memory to extend it. Similarly, Martinů uses off stage noises and singing. Even when asleep, the mind hears what’s happening “outside” so to speak. At any moment the dreamer might be woken, the dream shattered. It’s psychologically astute, building dramatic tension into the very fabric of the music.

Jiří Bělohlávek has a specially sensitive feel for this elusive, mysterious music, which will come as no surprise to anyone who has heard his Janaček or Dvořák. This performance was as good as the superlative Excursions of Mr Brouček last year, which he conducted with the same forces, the BBC Symphony Orchestra and Singers. This production was also directed by Kenneth Richardson, who made such magic with the concert staging of Mr Brouček. Richardson’s intelligent, subtle style achieves great things by simple means. The forest, for example, is created by light and shadow, yet feels impressively alive.

Kožená was outstanding. Visually and vocally she glowed. While all the cast was good, she was exceptional, for Juliette is in an altogether more exalted league than ordinary mortals. Kožená’s fees might normally exceed the other singers fees put together, but here she was utterly worth it, for her presence embodied all that Juliette stands for. The role is so important that the whole opera rests on how well it is realized. Kožená has long championed Martinů’s music, so this magnificent performance was a great tribute.

William Burden sings Michel, the protagonist. It’s a long, demanding role which he carries off with aplomb. Also familiar to those who loved Mr Brouček was Zdeněk Plech, who made the relatively small role of The Old Arab/Sailor so interesting that you wished the composer had developed it further. Roderick Williams sang no less than four roles, including the pivotal Seller of Memories. He acts as well as he sings, and is certainly one of the brightest young British stars of his generation. When will he get the profile he deserves ? Andreas Jäggi’s Clerk was suitably tense and manic.

There are only two available recordings of Julietta, and the classic version is nearly 50 years old. Let’s hope this performance, which was recorded by the BBC, will make it to CD/DVD. Bělohlávek’s recording of Mr Brouček won the Gramophone award for best Opera in 2008, so perhaps this new Juliette will do the same.

This performance will be broadcast on BBC Radio 3 on Tuesday 31st March, available online for a week.

Read the original on Opera Today:

http://www.operatoday.com/content/2009/03/magdalena_koena.php

Photo is by Pepe Araneda,
http://www.flickr.com/photos/pantherman/2221071934/

Bohuslav Martinu - the operas

Coming up in 2009 is Bohuslav Martinu's anniversary. In London we're lucky as Martinu is a speciality of the BBC's top man Jiri Belohlávek, so we're in for some idiomatic performances. There's a very good article about Martinu's operas in MusicOMH , so follow the link below. It's worth it as Martinu isn't nearly as well known in this country as he should be.

"The best known of the dozen or so oratorios/cantatas are the quietly moving Field Mass and the strangely hypnotic Epic of Gilgamesh. In recent years, only one of the composer's 14 operas have been performed at a major London house – the last one, The Greek Passion, which was finally presented at Covent Garden in its original form in 2000, and again in 2004. It is 30 years since his early opera Julietta has been performed in the capital, although a concert performance is scheduled (the first of the anniversary tributes?) at the Barbican in March 2009"

"Most of Martinu's work flirts with the strange and off-kilter, delving into the subconscious in one way or another, and Les larmes is an extreme example of this exploration – a woman falls in love with a hanged man, Satan rides a bicycle and heads split apart, while legs and arms dance on their own."

Definitely read this link for more !
http://www.musicomh.com/classical/features/martinu_1008.htm