Sandrine Piau Si j'ai aimé - Orchestrated Mélodie

Sandrine Piau and Le Concert de la Loge (Julien Chauvin), Si j'ai aimé. an eclectic collection of mélodies demonstrating the riches of French orchestral song.  Berlioz, Duparc and Massenet are included, but also
Saint-Saëns, Charles Bordes, Gabriel Pierné, Théodore Dubois, Louis Vierne and Benjamin Godard.  Sponsored by Palazetto Bru Zane, Alpha Classics produced the ground breaking Saint-Saëns Mélodies avec orchestre with Yann Beuron and Tassis Christoyannis (please read more here) which has been described as the "opening of a Pandora's box ......(on) dozens, if not hundreds, of mélodies sublimely arrayed in sparkling orchestral colours (which) were slumbering on library shelves".

These mélodies reflect the renaissance of French poetry in the Romantic period, and of contemporary poets like Hugo, Gautier, Banville, Régnier and Verlaine.  The enhancement of verse by music created a new genre, taking art song from the confines of private salons to the concert hall.  Although grand opéra took centre stage, many composers found, in mélodie an expression of more subtle sensibility.  Given the predominance of grand opéra and of singers trained in that tradition, the vocal parts are more elaborate than they would be in a more inward form like German Lieder, but are exqusitely refined. These settings focus on voice, eschewing brass and percussion. "But how many nuances these composers coud obtain from this palette", writes Hélène Cao in her notes. "There is no oboe in Aimons-nous (Saint-Saëns) or Ce que dit le silence (Guilmant) .....the arpeggios of Saint-Saëns' Extase are provided by the harp, thus preserving the lightness of a pianistic texture that would have been weighed down by the use of bowed strings". Indeed, the harp is a distinctive feature in many of these mélodies, more lustrous and liquid,  closer to the human voice, and particularly to the female voice.

The delicacy of Piau's timbre in Saint-Saëns' Extase (Victor Hugo) is exquisite, almost trembling with ecstasy, the moment of intimacy in the text living vividly on in memory.  her vouce is agile, capturing the fluttering fragility in Papillons (Renée de Léché) where a pair of flutes duet, darker winds and strings adding texture.  The song ends abruptly, for butterflies die once the summer is over.  In Charles Bordes's Promenade matinale (Paul Verlaine) , the pace is leisurely, evoking a stroll in the morning sunshine. A horn is heard, illustrating "un chemin de gazonque bordant devieux aulnes", introducing shade, for the dreamer has lost the one he or she had loved. This connects neatly with the well-known Berlioz Au cimetière from Les nuits d'été.  In Jules Massenet's Le Poète et Le Fantôme, to an anonymous text, the vocal line stretches languidly, as the poet addresses a phantom, the soul of the poet's smiles, ie a memory of the past.  The voice of the harp mirroring the voice of the singer. The poem is strophic, its repeating patterns suggesting there will be no resolution.  Gabriel Pierné's Chanson d'autrefois, for chamber ensemble, is like a folk air, being based on the composer's set of childrens's piece Album pour mes petits amis. Théodore Dubois' Si j'ai parlé....si j'ai aimé (Henri de Régnier) is poised, "c'est ton ombre que je cherche". 

The upbeat rhythms of Berlioz's Villanelle from Les nuits d'été  mark a transition from songs of lost love to songs of desire and seduction. Théodore Dubois' Promenade à l'etang (Albert Semain) alternates restraint with exuberant outbursts, intensifying the tension of passion, the pond representing, perhaps, hidden depths. More butterflies in Louis Vierne's Beaux papillons blancs from Trois Mélodies op 11, this time fluttering happily in warm breezes, the vocal line circulating smoothly as the strings dance and sparkle.  In contrast, the sensuous promise of  Henry Duparc's Aux étoiles where violin and flute soar over a background of dark timbred strings. In Alexandre Guilmant's Ce que dit le silence (Charles Barthélemy), the contrast lies between the sweeping vocal part and the understated orchestral line with its quiet interjections. "Sans bruit, nous permet d'écouter ce que dit le silence". 

The repose of Saint-Saëns Aimons-nous (Théodore de Banville) merges into the serenity of Massenet's Valse très lente,  originally for piano, here scored for lyrical winds and strings. Saint-Saëns'  L'Enlèvement (Hugo) was written when the composer was only 13 years of age, but the woodwind melody has finesse. The grave movement from Benjamin Godard's Symphonie gothique op 23 is followed by the famous Plaisir d'amour, in a transcription by Hector Berlioz after a romance from the 1780's by Jean-Paul-Ègide Martini.

Saint-Saëns Mélodies avec orchestre - Beuron Christoyannis

Saint-Saëns Mélodies avec orchestra with Yann Beuron and Tassis Christoyannis with the Orchestra della Svizzera Italiana conducted by Markus Poschner.  Though the songs for voice and piano have previously been recorded, this is the world premiere recording of the full orchestral versions, taken from a performance in Lugano in 2016 sponsored by Palazzetto Bru-Zane, champions in the promotion of French repertoire.   In this landmark issue, distributed by Alpha classics, nineteen of the twenty-five orchestral songs in the composer's catalogue are included.  Saint-Saëns was only thirteen years old in 1848 when he wrote L'Enlèvement, first for piano and voice, orchestrating it very shortly afterwards.  Aimons-nous was completed seventy years later, two years before the composer's death.  Though Saint-Saëns’ reputation has been based on his larger works, he had a lifelong committment to song.  This is particularly significant  given the dominance of Grand Opéra and symphonic works  in mid-19th century France. Berlioz's Les nuits d'été was initially composed for voice and piano, the orchestrations only completed in 1856.  Concert performances tended towards programmes of operatic arias or works for piano.

By orchestrating his songs, Saint-Saëns was making an artistic statement.  In 1876, he wrote "The Lied with orchestra is a social necessity. If such things were available, people would not always be singing operatic arias in concerts, which often make a pitiful effect in those surroundings".  As Sébastien Troester writes in his notes, "incongruous accents and faulty ceasuras and enjambments" could occur in popular works by composers whose native language was not French. Thus Saint-Saëns created orchestral song as art song as serious concert music, a synthesis of voice and symphony, building on the riches of French poetry.  Orchestral form also allows for exotic colour and sensuality,  making use, as Troester writes "of ancient modes, of ostinato rhythms that create a sensation of languor, of vocal melismas", distinctive and very Belle Époque.

The performances here are superb, the epitome of idiomatic style.  Despite its richness, the beauty of Saint-Saëns music lies in its purity.  The ornamenations exist to amplify ideas and structure.  Poschner and the orchestra keep, the colours clear. "Hollywood excess" is not the way to go   Elegance lies in articulation.  Beuron and Chritoyannis phrase and shape so that the words can be heard clearly, without exaggeration, but with natural, flowing flair.

Angélus, to a poem by Pierre Aguétant (1890-1940) begins with the tolling of a bell, followed by shimmeriung strings.  "Les clochers, souverains du soir", sings the tenor Yann Beuron, pacing the line with the deliberation of medieval chant. In the monastery, the monks are singing Angelus, and outside, the shepherds hear the sound on the air as if the wings of God were rushing past.   Similar frisson in the strings introduces L'attente (Victor Hugo) but here the pace is swift, barely able to contain excitement.  "Climb, squirrel, up the oak....  eagle, rise from your eyrie!"  In Rêverie (Hugo) phrases in each strophe are repeated, with slight variation,  the orchestra echoing the vocal line, the effect as lovers entwined.  Beuron's wonderful diction warms words tenderly: "Mon coeur, dont rien ne reste, L'amour ôté ! "

Extended orchestral colour pays off handsomely in songs like  La Brise from Saint-Saëns' Mélodies Persanes op 26 (1870) to a text by Arrmand Renaud (1836-1895).  Swaying string lines suggest exotic dance, against dance rhythms based on percussion and bells.  A clarinet suggests "oriental" woodwinds. The vocal line (Tassis Christoyannis)  equally agile, with long, curving phrases.  Similar felicities in Extase (Hugo) where the text itself repeats and changes in intricate patterns.   Woodwinds "mobile et tremblante" suggest the falling leaves in La feuille de peuplier (Mme Amable Tastu, 1795-1885).  A lilting woodwind melody lifts L'Enlèvement (Hugo)  raising the song to heights few composers aged only 13 could hope to achieve. Woodwinds again in Les Fées (Théodore de Banville  1821-1891)  suggest the movement of swallows in flight, as the vocal line soars upwards.   The vocal line (Beuron) in Souvenances (Ferdinand Lemaire 1832-1879) dips gracefully, garlanded by the orchestra.

Flutes and strings shimmer in Les cloches de la mer to a text by the composer himself, but a much darker, more dramatic mood emerges, the orchestra surging tutti, suggesting the depths of the ocean.  La splendeur vide from Mélodies Persanes op 26.  describes "un merveilleux palais" filled with jewels (vividly evoked by the orchestra), but the glory masks despair.  "Plus je suis tombeau", sings Troyannis, his voice descending to near whisper. The full orchestra surges again, horns ablaze, in Le pas d'armes du roi Jean (Hugo)  a long ballad where the singer (Troyannis) has to characterize the different figures in the poem, while marking the short, clipped phrases in the text.   

More mock medievalism in La cloche (Hugo) where Beuron floats the last line "dans le ciel" so it dissolves into silence.   This prepares us for the fluttering delicacy of Papillons (Renée de Léché) where a pair of flutes duet, darker winds and strings adding texture.  The song ends abruptly : butterflies die.  Thus Pliante (Tastu), (1918) with strong chords of dark portent.  "Ô monde !  Ô vie ! Ô temps!".  In contrast, though written in the same period, Aimons-nous (Banville) where lovers embrace, peacefully, in death.  In Au cimetière again from Mélodies persanes the two groups of strings are plucked, then bowed, suggesting the beat of a pulse and sighs of breath.  The mood is hushed, yet enraptured. To conclude, Danse macabre op 40 but with a difference.  This was originally written for voice and piano in 1872,  then revised for violin and orchestra.  Here, voice, violin and orchestra come together.  It's a treat !  Christoyannis sings  "zig-a-zig-za-zig le mort en cadence".  Violin and voice locked in sinister dance.  Méfistofeles having a laugh.  Truly "et vive la mort et l'egalité!" 

Adventures in exotic worlds - Cédric Tiberghien, François-Xavier Roth Prom

Adventures in exotic worlds ! A vibrant Prom, with François-Xavier Roth, Cédric Tiberghien, and Les Siècles, in an unusually stimulating programme of music by Saint-Saëns  Délibes, Lalo, and César Franck. The French fascination with exoticism wasn't mere decoration. By absorbing alien sounds and values, French composers were able to explore new ideas.  developing a genuinely original synthesis which would transform the French aesthetic. From the expansive worldview of Louis XIV to Rameau, to Debussy and beyond  -  limitless exploration of new horizons and ideas

The music of Saint-Saëns is currently enjoying a revival.  François-Xavier Roth is a Saint-Saëns specialist - his father is the organist Daniel Roth - so it was good to hear the overture from Saint-Saëns' opera La princess Jaune op 30 (1872).  In this opera, a young man called Kornélis is obsessed with things Japanese. He experiments with opium and is transported to a fantasy land with a "Yellow Princess". Although the piece is entirely western,  Saint-Saëns shows an awareness of alien form quite remarkable in that the opera was written only two years after the World Exposition at Paris sensationally brought Asia to the West.  Recently, Roth conducted Saint-Saëns Le timbre d'argent written at about the same time as La Princess Jaune. a joint production between  l'Opéra-Comique, Paris and Palazetto Bru-Zane. (please read more about Le timbre d'argent HERE).  From Délibes Lakmé,  not The Bell Song which is so famous that it's even used on TV ads, but some of the ballet music.  It's possible that Délibes had an inkling of what Indian wind instruments may have sounded like, for the flute solo is decidedly un-western.  It's significant, too, that this was written for dancers, giving a firm rhythmic structure to the piece.

Roth has conducted Saint-Saëns' Concerto for piano and orchestra no 5  (The "Eygptian"), numerous times with different orchestras, but hearing it here with Les Siècles and Cédric Tiberghien, also a passionate advocate of the piece, was a special occasion, made even more unique by the use of a period piano, an 1899 Bechstein, with a remarkably agile, almost bell-like voice. As Tiberghien says in the BBC Radio 3 rebroadcast, in this piece a modern concert grand would sound "ugly".  Certainly, this performance revealed the fragile beauty in the piece which is so  important to interpretation. Although it was written in Luxor, where the composer went on holiday, it is fundamentally an example of Belle Époque syncretism : Fantasy Egypt, not reality, an Egypt where the present is coloured by dreams of the past.  For men of Saint-Saëns' generation, European civilization was the height of progress, and that civilization encompassed the world.  Napoleon's conquest of Egypt differed from the British conquest of India, just as French and British colonialism followed different models.  The difference between French and British attitudes to colonialism affected music history : much more integration on many levels between the colonies and metropolitan France.

Ultimately, Saint-Saëns' Piano concerto no.5 is not picturesque, and not "light music" to be kitsched out with fake palms and camels. It's a work of  bold musical inventiveness and originality.  Tiberghien faced the fearsome technical challenges : arpeggios flew with faultless confidence and elegance, making the frequent changes of imagery flow naturally, like the Nile Delta, with its confluent tributaries, building up a panorama of great richness and detail.  Vaguely Arabic motifs blend into harmonies that are "modern" and European. Thundering passages suggest constant flux,with swirling diminuendos and passages of flamboyant brilliance. Nothing backward here, though the references may come from things remembered.

This is where the period piano and orchestra proved their value.  Saint-Saëns' Piano concerto no.5  isn't "about" Eygpt but about the experience of being in  place where you're only in temporary sojourn : tourists enjoying luxury, dreaming of a past that colours the present.   Hence the idea of fragility, so beautifully evoked in this lively yet delicate performance. The pyramids are evidence that even great pharoahs aren't immortal (except in legend). All too soon, the tourist will be gone,  notice the brisk, no nonsense ending!  Back to daily reality.Tiberghien   made the piano sing, almost like an Arabic string instrument, its plaintive voice much more in keeping with the flutes and other winds, and the horns and trumpets.  This piano wasn't a heavy-handed colonial barking orders at the natives, but one prepared to speak to the orchestra in terms of respect and familiarity.  A truly exquisite performance, spakling with light, but with great depths of insight. 

Tiberghien's encore solo was the Debussy Prelude for piano La Puerta del Vino L123/3, a reverie on Moorish Spain, nicely hushed and intimate.  Then, making the most of this unique combination of period piano and orchestra, the Prom continued with César Franck Les Djinns inspired by a poem by Victor Hugo about supernatural spirits in an Islamic fantasy.  Elaborate figures in the piano part, matched by inventiveness in the orchestral writing.  A strong sense of movement, the piano moving in and out from the orchestra, suggesting the sound of bells. Are the Djinns flying amongst clouds ? We use our imaginations and wonder.

Namouna (Suites Nos. 1 and 2) (1881) comes from Lalo's ballet based on a poem by Alfred de Musset.  More supernatural spirits in Near Eastern fantasy !  Here, Roth and Les Siècles demonstrated the variety of their instruments.  Each of the ten sections depicts a scene, coloured by different sounds. Three sets of percussion - the "bass" with large side drum, the "baritone" with  wider, flat drums and the "tenor" beating a tambour whose sound can be adjusted by tightening the strings that hold the leather to the wood.   Timpani are thrilling, but these very individualistic voices sing with a warmer, more subtle tone. Plus they don't blast away other instruments, At one point the sound of a triangle rang out loud and clear.  Then to the blockbuster : the Bacchanal from Saint-Saëns' Samson et Dalila   so theatrically exotic and so famous that it's become synonymous with "oriental" music  in popular culture. What energy and what fun ! Ideally suited to Roth's sense of humour.

Roth's a born communicator, who has been known to sing to his audience! (read more here), and often speaks to them.    When the Orchestra of SWR Freiburg Baden Baden was on the point of being disbanded, Roth made an impassioned speech at the 2015 Proms  in support of his players and the orchestra's traditions. This time he spoke about this Proms programme and the way music can break down walls between cultures. And thus the encore, a French arrangement (by Felix Roth, son of the conductor) of Get Lucky a song about America by Daft Punk with castanets and maracas, sassy and breezy and full of fun.

Saint-Saëns Le timbre d'argent, Paris F X Roth

Camille Saint-Saëns Le timbre d'argent from l'Opéra-Comique, Paris, a joint production with the Palazetto Bru-Zane. A performance so vibrant and vivid that it should bring Saint-Saëns's operas back into the mainstream.  Saint-Saëns was just  30 when he completed it, quite an achievement for a young composer who had hitherto written a few works for chamber ensemble.  Le timbre d'argent (The silver bell) is an ambitious piece, in the extravagant tradition of Grand Opéra   It has all the elements of French operatic style - a spectacular plot enlivened by fantasy and the supernatural, showpieces for singers and chorus, lively interludes for dance and unusually imaginative orchestration. Heard here in the 1913 full  edition prepared by the composer, the opera straddles 19th and 20th century French music theatre.  The plot is based on Faust, and clearly inspired by Berlioz and Gounod with whom Saint-Saëns  was connected.  The stylish vivacity in the orchestration is wonderfully realized by the Orchestre Les Siècles  conducted by François-Xavier Roth, The choir is Accentus, no less, and soloists include Edgaras Montvidas and  Hélène Guillmette.

It's Christmas and the choir are singing jolly songs  "Noël ! Noël !"  Hélène (Hélène Guillmette) and her maid Rosa (Jodie Devos) are singing, too.  But Conrad (Edgaras Montvidas) moans about his miseries. Perhaps it's a wry joke on the composer's part to set the part for a tenor with a heroic timbre who can't really be as sick as he thinks he is.  A chill sets in, the violins trembling, chords breaking off in fear. Again we hear the merry choir "Tra la la" but the dance turns to death march.  Spooky winds, swirling figures but Conrad keeps singing"I am cursed!  Worse is yet to come.  The strings buzz madly then diminish.  An alphorn (?) calls and angels sing in the choir.  An apparition appears out of the brume. "Flee, flee, J'ai peur " sings Conrad. Is it Conrad's doctor Spiridion (Tassis Christoyannis)?  Or Mefistofele?  Conrad's fevered mind can't tell. Spiridion gives Conrad a magic bell to soothe his spirit.  Thus, the pure clean ring of a silver bell. and a scream.  ,Dums roll, violins spin dizzying patterns., the brass calls, the choir sings alarm.

A long orchestral interlude represents Conrad's journey through space and time   He is fixated on the vision of a dancer, who symbolizes, the epitome of beauty.  The dancer dances, but doesnt sing. In an opera full of singing, that's a telling note.  The music zings, but with an unnatural glow,  angular, crazy rhythms, hurtling forward, brass and strings pumping along. Spiridion's lines are long and curving, like a serpent. He's tempting Conrad, an innocent in Eden.  The musical,writing is almost cinematic. A wailing solo violin suggests a village musician. Or the Devil, who has the best tunes. Thus Hélène's showpiece aria.  "Le bonheur est chose légère", is haunted.   But the harps, strings and choir suggest  that all is not yet lost.  There are comic moments, like an aria for baritone (Spiridion) mocking marriage, deliciously vulgar, almost music hall.  Another wonderful orchestral entr'acte, whizzing strings  punctuated by ebullient percussion. The choir sings a raucuous song: the punctuations suggest glasses being raised, or high-kicking dance.   The libretto includes references to dancers playing roles in the action, but I only know the audio.  The mood changes to horror. "Maudit, maudit" sings Conrad, as he realizes the price that must be paid fir his quick-fix cure. Some innocent soul dies when he profits.

More musical, adventures in the Third Act, portrayed through orchestration: suggestions of folk song, almost, like bagpipes. The choir sings a jolly chorus "Bonjour! Bonjour!".  But Conrad's song , though lyrical , is pensive.  He's thinking of  Hélène.  She joins him in a duet, their voices fluttering around each other like the butterflies in the text.

Several more opportunities for dancing.  Exotic "oriental" music, vaguely Arabic, before the orchestra explodes in a climax that might be a storm. From the tumult whizzing figures arise from the strings, flying figures perhaps suggesting winds of change.  Music as scenic as this stimulates the imagination, its pictorialism exists in the mind, not in reality.  A fanfare of brass announces another chorius "Tra-lala", so vigorous that you're drawn in.  Again, the music is punctuated by fierce outburts, "Un, deux, trois, quartre" , sings Conrad, while the orchestra beats time behind him. More ominous percussion, but the mood is broken by the voice of Hélène, singing a melody so pure and lovely that her voice suggests what the true timbre d'argent might be: not Spiridion's silver object, but Hélène herself.  Spiridion resurfaces.  Hi song, though sinister, is oddly moving.

Another orchestral interlude, marked by melancholy violin.  Conrad's torn between Spiridion and  Hélène. The bell rings in the orchestra, tolling like a church bell.  The orchestra joins in with fulsome melody. Hélène calls.  Conrad responds.  Thunder strikes, but from the tempest in the orchestra we hear the sound of harps, and the solo violin again, its melody now firm and clear. The line rises upwards then descends, and the orchestra sings a gentle song, not quite a lullaby.  The female voices in the choir sing of love.  has the crisis passed? In the distance the choir sings a hymn.  Possibly, it's still Christmas.  "Mon coeur!" Conrad cries.  The bell theme returns, quietly.  Conrad and Hélène unite at last, in duet, surrounded, haloed by the orchestra. The choir sings "Alleluja!"  With a final. affirmative crash, the opera ends.  Conrad's saved, by love.  Listen to the broadcast here. 

François-Xavier Roth, has a thing for Saint-Saëns. He's conducting Saint-Saëns's Piano Concerto No 5 in F major, 'Egyptian' at the Proms on 16th August, together with the Bacchanal from Saint-Saëns. Samson et Dalila. which Philippe Jordan conducted at the Opéra National de Paris last year (Read more here).  The Palazetto Bru-Zane, which organized this production of this  Le timbre d'argent, also presented Saint-Saëns Prosérpine last year with Véronique Gens, conducted by Ulf Schirmer.

CédricTiberghien Saint-Saëns, CBSO Franck Rachmaninov

At the Symphony Hall, Birmingham, Karina Canellakis made her debut conducting the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. Given that orchestra's knack for finding exceptionally good young conductors to liven up the stable, this concert deserved attention.  Canellakis was a violinist with the Berlin Philharmonic's junior ensemble, the Orchester-Akademie, where she became a protégé of Simon Rattle, like Dudamel and others before. His agents, Askonas Holt, have taken her onto their books, which should launch her career very nicely. In 2014 she stepped in for Jap van Zweden in Dallas.  This concert with the CBSO is so far her highest-profile European gig, broadcast on BBC Radio 3.

César Franck's Le chasseur maudit is a show stopper, almost guaranteed to blast audiences out of their seats.  It's inherently dramatic. A fanfare of horns announces a hunt: but no ordinary, pastoral hunt.  Percussion rings out, suggesting the tolling of church bells in the distance.  This Sunday, though, the Huntsman's off to the woods instead, killing animals.  The tale goes way back in European folklore. Think, for starters, Goethe's Die wandelnde Glock, set by Loewe, and Schoenberg's Gurrelieder and much else Gothic and demonic. Thus the piece ends with a loud sudden bang. It's not a rarity: I last heard it live barely 18 months ago.  It's effects come from its being pictorial: not a great deal of musical imagination needed. Thus it needs more punch in performance to compensate, and here needed more vivid character.

Another surefire crowd pleaser: Rachmaninov's Symphonic Dances op 45, also vividly pictorial.  It's as if we see dancers swirl before us, as if in an elusive dream.  Certainly, in this performance the dreamlike quality prevailed,  but there are darker, more nightmarish depths to the piece.  That repeated pounding motif and its quieter echo, can be disturbing.  Towards the end of his life, Rachmaninov was looking back on a lost world, and a life spent in exile, sometimes in creative impasse.  The waltzes can seem haunted. The violin plays alone, for a reason.  The horns can be strident, and the winds can  be sinister.  But for all we know, Rachmaninov might have been writing to soothe himself. The CBSO is a such a good orchestra that it can convince whatever it does.  So, perhaps the fluid smoothness had purpose.  An undemanding though enjoyable performance. Picturesque music sometimes plays itself, though it works best when better thought through.

The highlight was Camille Saint-Saëns Piano concerto no.5 in F major Op.103 (Egyptian) (1896) with Cédric Tiberghien.  Much is made of the "Egyptian" aspects of the piece, since it was written in Luxor, but it is fundamentally an example of Belle Époque syncretism.  For men of Saint-Saëns's generation, European civilization was the height of progress, and that civilization encompassed the world.  Napoleon's conquest of Egypt differed from the British conquest of India, just as French and British colonialism followed different models.  The French fascination with "The East" was long standing : think Les Indes galantes, where the "natives" are Frenchmen in disguise.  Or Lakmé, or The Pearl Fishers.  

Ultimately, Saint-Saëns Piano concerto no.5 is far more than picturesque travelogue. It's not "light music". It's a work of  bold musical inventiveness and originality.  Perhaps that's why the piano part is so strong : the soloist as pioneer, very much the leader. Tiberghien faces the fearsome technical challenges : arpeggios fly with faultless confidence and elegance, and the frequent changes of imagery flow naturally.   Like the Nile, with its confluent tributaries!  Vaguely Arabic motifs blend into harmonies that are "modern" and European. Thundering passages suggest constant flux,with swirling diminuendos and passages of flamboyant brilliance. Nothing backward here, though the references may come from things remembered.  Tiberghien played with highly individual flourish.  Perhaps his enthusiasm invigorated the orchestra, who were playing at their best at this point in the concert.

Gürzenich-Orchester Köln livestream Saint-Saëns

Adventurous livestream from the Gürzenich-Orchester Köln with conductor François-Xavier Roth, screened last night on the orchestra's own website. The orchestra's roots go back to the 15th century; it developed in its present form in the mid-19th century.  Mahler's Symphony no 5 premiered with the Gürzenich-Orchester, conducted by the composer himself.  (see my article here). Now it's reaching out to audiences that wouldn't otherwise be able to attend its concerts live. The livestream yesterday focused on Saint-Saëns  with the Dance macabre, the Concerto for piano and orchestra no 5  (The "Eygptian"),  and Symphony no 3 (The "Organ"). A very enjoyable concert, thoughtfully planned, and well executed. 

Technology has changed business economics. The age of youtube takes things still further. Of course there are many positives to youtube but it distorts the reality of performance,  narrowing horizons, creating self-selecting limitations and promoting the idea that musicians don't deserve to be paid for what they do.  Somehow, though, musicians have to adapt. The Berliner-Philharmoniker, among the first to embrace recording technology, pioneered digital streaming. Anyone, anywhere in the world can access Berlin.  While there are other platforms, orchestra-led broadcasting gives musicians control, and is far more representative of what orchestras actually do than depending on the rather artificial medium of of recording.  Many orchestras and opera houses livestream, some more successfully than others.   Perhaps the secret is to have something worth streaming on an international level.

The Gürzenich-Orchester Köln has something special to offer, if this initial livestream is evidence.    It's an extremely good orchestra, with distinctive character and an auditorium with a warm acoustic.  Another asset the Gürzenich also have is  François-Xavier Roth, who communiates his deep enthusiasm for repertoire with intelligence and panache.  He's done this programme before, elsewhere: finesse shows   Technically, the broadcast was understated, almost exactly like a normal performance, where the players file in unannounced and get on with what they do best - making music.  This is a tacit assumption that the audience is sharp enough to listen without having the blather that accompanies MET screenings and  the BBC Proms. Perhaps mass audiences need hype to get them wound up, but personally I like the intimate character of the Gürzenich and its emphasis on its musicians.  Broadcasts aren't cheap but they can be cheaper than cinema distribution, the curse of HD, and the caprices of big recording companies more into profit than art.  Gürzenich-Orchester marketing is good, and they know how to use social media to generate publicity  On the other hand,  strength lies in numbers, and most individual orchestras don't have the muscle to break into the world market - not everyone is the Berliner Phil !  Not every concert needs to be streamed, and publicity should be done more in advance.  But orchestra-led streaming might be the way ahead.

Superb Samson et Dalila Saint-Saëns Rachvelishvili Antonenko, Paris

Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns Samson et Dalila op 47 (1877) with Anita Rachvelishvili and  Aleksandrs Antonenko,conducted by Philippe Jordan at the Opéra Nationale de Paris, in a new production by Damiano Michieletto: beautiful and very moving, but best of all, doing justice to the score by enriching the personalities of Samson and Delilah themselves. Saint-Saëns pared down the narrative,  safe in the knowledge that, since audiences would be sufficiently familiar with the biblical original, he could concentrate on the innate emotional drama within. Yes, there are exotic touches, like the pseudo-Levantine tambourine dance, but even that is a clue, since Dalila's performing for show. Her true feelings are hidden.  Instead,  Saint-Saëns wrote music which was in many ways ahead of his era, to the extent that Parisian audiences couldn't really appreciate its merits at first.  Although orientalism had been a part of the French aesthetic since Napoleon, the opera wasn't an immediate hit.  Despite his disavowal of Wagner, Saint-Saëns could hardly escape some influence.  In Samson et Dalila, we can detect Tristan und Isolde in the surging heroic motifs and grand doomed passions  The choruses are particularly rousing.

The Overture begins with a faint suggestion of Hebrew horns, but soon  expands into more abstract sonorities, contrasted with an elusive high string melody. Samson (Aleksandrs Antonenko) sits alone. The chorus, still hidden, intone an ancient chant. On Samson hangs the survival of his nation: he's strong, but is he strong enough? As he looks at his hands, the grille behind him lifts and we see the Hebrews, calling for help.  "Arretez, O mes freres!" Antonenko sings forcefully, but he knows that salvation comes from God not man. The Governor of the Philistines, Abimélech (Nicolas Testé) declares the superiority of his own god. Samson strikes him dead and the High Priest (Egils Silins) orders a massacre. Bodies lie crumpled on the ground, yet the chorus continues singing solemn prayers. Samson, for all his strength, is gentle. With simple white linen, he covers the faces of the dying to protect their modesty and dignity. 

Meanwhile, Dalila (Anita Rachvelishvili) watches, unobserved from inside the Temple. This isn't in the stage directions, but is utterly true to the portayal of her character. She's moved by Samson's kindness.  Rachvelishvili sings lusciously, because it's her job to seduce. Nothing personal.  Even in the palace, surrounded by her handmaidens, she's an object to be pawed and fawned on, guarded by armed men, but  necessarily loved. She's a prisoner of her own situation, which is perhaps why she's touched by Samson's kindness to the dead.  An extremely sympathetic, finely nuanced characterization, for the music suggests  that she's a very complex personality.  Of course she's dangerous, as the Old Hebrew (Nicolas Cavillier) warns.  But she's no automaton. The richness in  Rachvelishvili's singing suggests opulence, yet tinged with half hidden sadness.  Magnificent leaps up the scale to demonstrate power, but  the voice resonates profoundly at the lowest point of her register, Dalila sings of Spring, but the orchestra reminds us of the fundamental chill around her.  In her retreat, Sorek, Dalila is surrounded with luxury, but the High Priest is clearly boss. Silin's body language suggests he's a manipulative abuser rather than a holy man. He paws her, too. Rachvelishvili sings along, but again the tense flurries in the orchestra suggest fear, the tightly controlled vibrato in her voice implying suppressed fear.  Whirring, menacing diminuendos in the orchestra evoke her mental state as she awaits her mission.

Blue shadows cover the golden hues in the bedroom : the "colours" of the Hebrew Chorus invading the Philistine sanctuary, as Samson enters.  There is a frisson, not only in the orchestra but in the way Antonenko and Rachvelishvili interact with each other.  Exceptionally detailed acting is important, because it amplifies meaning, and enhances what is being sung.  Good acting isn't exaggerated semaphore. One of the great benefits of modern opera staging and film is the way singers can extend the impact of their singing through fine detail. Tiny movements in the face and hands flow naturally from the emotion put into singing, placing much less pressure on singers than crude park and bark. In the love scene - for that is what it is - between Samson and Dalila, the music swoons tenderly, the diminuendos now evoke the fluttering of heartbeats. Intimacy not display. Nonetheless, Dalila has to do her duty. As the timpani crash, we hear the "cut" coming. When Rachvelishvili sings that last "Adieu" it's a scream of pain, not triumph.

In prison, Antonenko sings Samson's agony, his guilt increased by the sounds of the Hebrew chorus.  Dalila materializes, as if in a dream.  Bachvelishvili doesn't sing, but she moves to the swirling figures in the music, clearly as tortured with guilt as Samson is: a  daring touch on the part of director Michieletto, but extremely perceptive because it shines light on Dalila's personality, and colours the Bacchanale to follow. Now, the Philistines are celebrating; the orchestra breaks into heady rhythms. There are exotic "arabic" flavours but the palette here is much more sophisticated.  Langorous lines suggest drunken dancing - the lines suggest langorous, drunken waltz, cut by violent energetic angles. Plenty of colour, especially gold.  The High Priest throws money to the cheering crowd.  Bachvelishvili wears the golden wig the High Priest gives her, but stands aside, her face acting out what Dalila might be thinking: not pride but disgust.  Samson is beaten up by the mob.  The music gets wilder, then, in a flash, Rachvelishvili pushes through the mob to Antonenko, her face livid. The music changes, the beating stops.   Bachvelishvili dances but her body language suggests that her heart's not in it. Although there's a lot of wine being poured about, at the end  ravaged and guilt ridden, Rachvelishvili pours another fluid: petroleum.  Antonenko calls for God, and Pow! the stage goes up in flames, or rather lurid, sulphuric, blinding light.  A dazzling stroke of theatre!  No need to see columns crashing down.  The invisible God of the Hebrews has spoken.  In any case the music concludes so fiercely that there wouldn't be time.  Brilliant stagecraft from Michieletto, absolutely true to the spirit of  the music and to the meaning of the opera.