2010

Review: Seattle Symphony’s “Messiah” (Dec. 16)

By Melinda Bargreen

Performances of Handel’s “Messiah” share one attribute with the snowflake: No two are ever exactly the same.

Fortunately, there were no snowflakes on hand for Thursday night’s first of five Seattle Symphony performances of the 18th-century classic. What the large and receptive audience got instead was a remarkably enjoyable “Messiah” with plenty of energy, strong soloists, and a Chorale that sang with zest and verve.

Sometimes, in the distant past, the orchestra has played this score as if under mild anesthesia; I can remember one performance back in the 70s when fellow audience members were betting whether the acting concertmaster would fall asleep. (He did not, at least not perceptibly.) That certainly wasn’t the case this time: the orchestra played with considerable involvement and impact under the baton of music director Gerard Schwarz. From the opening Overture, which got a fleet, light reading, all the way through to the grandeur of the final “Amen,” this was a deeply engaging “Messiah.”

One reason “Messiah” productions vary so much from year to year is the cast of soloists, who interpret the score in varying and often highly original ways. This year’s soloists included soprano Dominique Labelle, mezzo-soprano Mary Phillips, tenor Michael Colvin and bass-baritone Charles Robert Austin. Colvin initially sounded less than ideally solid and secure, but later he established better breath control and let the tonal beauty of his voice blossom. By the time the tenor got to “Thou shalt break them,” he was in terrific form, fully realizing the drama of the text.

Austin, who has been one of the Seattle Symphony’s most important soloists over the past several years, proved why he is such an effective singing actor in solos that rang with conviction. His recitative, “Behold, I tell you a mystery,” couldn’t have been better.

The distinctive voice of soprano Dominique Labelle was sometimes a little erratic in terms of pitch and focus, but at her best she was a wonderfully expressive singer who made even the most challenging music sound easy and unforced.

The mellow-voiced Mary Phillips was given the relatively thankless task of interpreting the mezzo-soprano arias, many of which are scored so low that it’s difficult to project. She and the other soloists might have benefited from a more forward placement on the stage.

This year’s chorus, trained by Joseph Crnko, was beautifully balanced with clear enunciation. David Gordon’s trumpet solos were immaculately embellished, and Schwarz’s clear overall vision for the overall shape of this baroque masterpiece was manifested in a remarkably fine performance.

Review: Yo-Yo Ma, cellist, with Seattle Symphony Orchestra, Gerard Schwarz conducting. Benaroya Hall, Seattle, Dec. 7.

By Melinda Bargreen

In the concert world of 2010, we’re spoiled by the excellence of great new and established soloists. One player, however, is in a category all his own, as we rediscover every time cellist Yo-Yo Ma comes to town.

Ma doesn’t just play his instrument; somehow he taps into some sort of celestial pipeline of exquisite inspiration. Whether he’s playing traditional concert repertoire, new music, early music, Appalachian-based Americana, or undiscovered world music from the ancient Silk Road routes, Ma seems incapable of playing a routine phrase or even a ho-hum note. Every note has its own shape and color; it’s always moving toward an expressive goal. The sounds he produces make it clear that his cello is talking to you, or more precisely, that Ma is talking to you through his cello.

In his latest Seattle appearance, he was talking Shostakovich – the despair, hope, and irony that infuse Shostakovich’s Cello Concerto No. 1. This is a work of remarkable challenges, one requiring every kind of articulation along with a furious energy that makes the cello sound like a mini-orchestra. The first movement ended with such a burst of energy that many in the audience couldn’t help applauding.

But it was in the searing second movement, with meltingly lovely phrases that taper off into the concerto’s extended cadenza, that Ma and the orchestra (led by Gerard Schwarz) made their most remarkable impact. John Cerminaro’s all-important horn solos were beyond praise, in their virtuosity and an expressive range that rivaled Ma’s.

The ovation that followed the Shostakovich brought Ma to the stage again, this time for an encore: the Sarabande movement of the C Major Bach Suite for Unaccompanied Cello. It was like a final benediction for the audience – a moment in time away from all the stresses and concerns of life, when all you have to consider is the beauty before you.

Ma’s performance was wisely placed at the end of the concert program, because this is an act that’s impossible to follow. What came beforehand was an interesting assortment: two beloved arch-romantic bonbons, plus the opener – a world premiere by American composer Bernard Rands. The Rands piece is one of the Gund/Simonyi Farewell Commissions, an imposing lineup of new works composed to honor Schwarz in his final season as Seattle Symphony music director. Rands’ brand-new “Adieu for Brass Quintet and String Orchestra” includes lots of brass as a nod to Schwarz’s pre-conducting career as one of the world’s finest trumpet virtuosi. A high-energy, rhythmically tricky piece in two parts, the “Adieu” is permeated by fanfare motifs in triplets, often subsiding into big organ-like chords.

The limited repertoire of musical gestures, however, was made extra clear by what followed the Rands premiere: Tchaikovsky’s sumptuous “Romeo and Juliet” Fantasy Overture, and Strauss’ glittering Suite from “Der Rosenkavalier.” To be fair, these are works so chromatically opulent that almost any piece would sound a bit scrawny next to them. Schwarz gave an attentive and committed account of the Rands piece, but was in his most exuberant form in the “Rosenkavalier” Suite – aided by fine playing from the horn section and particularly nice solo work from principal oboe Ben Hausmann. Bravi

Review: Seattle Men’s Chorus “Holiday Glee,” Nov. 27-Dec. 20

Seattle Men’s Chorus presents “Holiday Glee”; Benaroya Hall, Nov. 27 (through Dec. 20).

By Melinda Bargreen

You’ll laugh; you’ll cry; you’ll sing along and jingle your car keys.

Yes, it’s the Seattle Men’s Chorus holiday concert, back in Benaroya Hall again for performances that tug the heartstrings – and push the envelope.  Somewhere between the cross-dressing chorines, the “Don’t Stop Believin’ ” nativity scene, and the song about a young man notorious for relieving himself in the snow, the SMC somehow inserts musical selections of sober beauty spanning nine centuries and several continents.

Don’t ask me how it all works. It just does. And this show, which annually launches the holiday season for thousands of Seattleites, may just be experiencing its best reincarnation yet, under the steady hand of director Dennis Coleman. (This year it’s a leaner, trimmer Dennis Coleman, though his conducting has certainly lost none of its impact. He even gets the audience to sound good in the annual sing-along.)

The opening number is a dazzler. With the huge chorus split between the front and the back of the hall, the call-and-response opening of Todd Smith’s rhythmic “Noel” – sung in the African Kituba dialect – establishes an infectious atmosphere of celebration as the entire chorus reunites on the stage. Coleman has always understood how to use the Benaroya Hall acoustics, deploying “surround sound” effects in another terrific piece, Franz Biebl’s sumptuous a cappella “Ave Maria.”

As usual, the arrangements of assistant artistic director Eric Lane Barnes are an indispensable part of the show – this time ranging as far afield as medieval carols, a version of “Silent Night” based on a Bach Prelude, and parody lyrics to “Don’t Stop Believin’.” It’s hard to imagine what the Chorus would do without Barnes, or without the smoothly versatile piano of Evan Stults, who is always in the right place at the right moment.

Some things invariably work better than others. A brief Las Vegas segment featuring the once-famous “Rat Pack” might be lost on younger audiences, and while I’m sure there are strong advocates for “The Davey Dinckle Song,” this writer isn’t one of them. But when the Captain Smartypants troupe launched their witty “Twelve Days of Christmas” (courtesy of the a cappella ensemble “Straight No Chaser”) that ended up in Toto’s “Africa,” they held the entire audience right in their smarty hands.

As the concert’s title suggests, several segments and references in the concert are related to the popular television show “Glee,” right down to some virtuoso cheerleading and an anti-bullying episode. Gay rights – particularly the right to marry – surfaced hilariously in a Beyonce parody that had everyone singing, “If you like it you should get to put a ring on it.”

For traditionalists, the annual “Silent Night,” complete with perfectly choreographed sign language, is always a high point. Watching the men’s white-gloved hands move through the sign-language motions in unison (as the stage darkened so those gloves were all you could see) was like seeing a flock of white birds flying in synchronized order.

An extra treat for first-weekend audiences only was the appearance of Broadway star Kelli O’Hara, whose pure and radiant voice was featured in “A Wonderful Guy” (from “South Pacific”) and “The Light in the Piazza” (from the eponymous musical). “O Holy Night” was beautifully sung to mostly wrong lyrics, but O’Hara brought down the house with her encore: a hilarious song about her own life experiences, from singing country-Western to singing opera and experiencing childbirth. Audiences for the rest of the run will miss O’Hara, unfortunately – but there’s still plenty to tempt everyone into Benaroya Hall for the rest of the run. This show’s a winner.

Review: Craig Sheppard, pianist, in “Mostly Brahms” Recital (Nov. 1)

Craig Sheppard, pianist, in “Mostly Brahms” recital; Meany Theater, Nov. 1, 2010

By Melinda Bargreen

Fans of the Craig Sheppard know that when they sit down to hear this pianist play, they will get a performance of rare depth and intensity. Sheppard seems incapable of playing an unexamined phrase, or tossing off a throwaway line. The pianist, who teaches at the University of Washington, also is well known for his thought-provoking programming, which in the past has presented great monuments of the repertoire: among his recital programs are enormous swathes of Bach (“Goldberg Variations,” Partitas, Sinfonias, Inventions, Well-Tempered Clavier); Beethoven (the 32 Sonatas and Diabelli Variations); Chopin and Scriabin (both composers’ 24 Preludes).

This year, Sheppard is undertaking another big project. In five programs, he will focus on the “third B,” Johannes Brahms – starting with the recital under consideration here, the Nov. 1 program called “Mostly Brahms.” Sheppard chose two early works of Brahms (the “16 Variations on a Theme by Robert Schumann,” Op. 9, and the Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 1), and paired them with two early works of Schumann, Brahms’ great mentor (the “Papillons,” Op. 2, and the Piano Sonata No. 1, Op. 11). It was impossible to miss the parallels between these two composers – as well as to note the very different ways the young Brahms was already choosing to develop his own compositional voice. (The remaining four concerts in this series will focus on Brahms’ works for solo piano.)

As is Sheppard’s usual practice, his own piano was transported to Meany Theater for the Brahms-Schumann opener, a huge program that (like most of this pianist’s recitals) was being recorded live for later release on disc. For some reason, the piano sounded extra bright that evening; was it the repertoire, the performance, the voicing of the instrument? In any case, I’ve never heard a piano more “present” in that usually mellow hall, and in the very big-moment sections of the music, the sound levels were surprisingly high. Sheppard’s playing, high-energy and of an almost febrile intensity, sometimes took on an aggressive, spiky quality; that was often balanced by sections of great sweetness and tenderness. There were some spectacular effects in the Brahms Variations, in which the languorous conclusion to one was offset by the high-voltage start of the next variation. Sheppard drew out some of the lyrical phrasing to the barest whisper of sound. These quieter moments were relatively rare, however, in a program that was full of big moments.

There were, not surprisingly, a few minor slips of concentration in a recital of this size and scope, but those were rare. Sheppard tackled the Brahms Sonata No. 1 in an all-out, take-no-prisoners mode, and inevitably there were a few casualties. It was not the cleanest playing we’ve heard from this artist, but it was a performance that gave this romantic work its full dramatic due.

The encore was an exquisite reading of the familiar Schumann Arabesque in C Major, a little miracle of a piece that has been so often played that it might seem to have nothing less to reveal to audiences. But Sheppard breathed new life into this classic, unfolding its melodies with a tender care that was all the more effective after the Sturm und Drang of the Brahms.

Review: Seattle Opera’s “Lucia di Lammermoor” (October 20)

By Melinda Bargreen

Sometimes a singer bursts onto the scene like an unexpected comet, with a burst of energy that lights up the opera stage as if it were the night sky. That is the case with soprano Aleksandra Kurzak, who made her Seattle Opera debut with her first-ever performances of the title role in Donizetti’s “Lucia di Lammermoor.” No one who heard and saw Kurzak could have believed she had never done this before: she displayed both complete command and total abandon as Lucia.

A compelling actress, Kurzak demonstrated Lucia’s harrowing descent from the love-struck girl of Act I to the broken, possessed creature of the famous Mad Scene – all her sparkle gone, replaced by flights of frenzy in which she poured out coloratura roulades from every conceivable position on the stage. You could practically hear the seats creak as the audience leaned forward, waiting to see and hear what Kurzak would do next. Her performance was an uncanny mixture of the utterly polished and the completely spontaneous.

Her voice, supple and accurate and beautiful at both ends of her considerable register, ascends to the top E-flats with an easy assurance that completely dispelled the usual “will she make it” worries.

Fortunately, Kurzak is far from the only adornment of this production. Her Edgardo is William Burden, who was most recently heard as Dodge in Seattle Opera’s world premiere of the Daron Hagen opera “Amelia.” Here, however, he has transformed himself into the consummate Italianate tenor, with that subtle sob in the voice and those little embellishments that made him sound as if he hailed from the precincts of La Scala. Dashing and impassioned, Burden made his Edgardo’s passion and despair compellingly real. He and Kurzak sang extraordinarily well together, rising to a startling high C/high E-flat culmination of their first-act duet.

The production employs a Robert Dahlstrom set that was originally designed for “I Puritani,” but adapts very well to “Lucia” (where the extensive staircases are crucial to the staging). Kurzak’s remarkable descent in the Mad Scene made most effective use of those stairs. Director Tomer Zvulun took the always-questionable decision to stage the overture, but this time it worked admirably, introducing the ghost that later haunts Lucia, and briefly establishing the love relationship of the Lucia and Edgardo. The imaginative lighting of Robert Wierzel illuminates that ghost periodically throughout the opera, to telling effect: the ghost is not just a specter that Lucia imagines, but one that we also see. Zvulun’s treatment of the final scene is another applause-worthy coup, lightening the gloom of the deaths by suggesting the lovers’ reunion in a better world.

The director also draws first-rate, highly dramatic acting from the principals and from the chorus. Enrico (Ljubomir Puskaric) is a real brute as Enrico, bullying and manhandling his sister Lucia, and Raimondo (Arthur Woodley) is artfully placed to illustrate his commanding presence in the action. Both Puskaric and Woodley are strong singers. Eric Neuville made a good impression as Normanno; Lindsey Anderson (Alisa) and Andrew Stenson (Arturo) made effective contributions in supporting roles.

Hats off, once again, to Beth Kirchhoff, the admirable chorusmaser, and to the chorus that sang so lustily and acted so commendably. They looked great in Deborah Trout’s opulent, detailed period costumes.

In the orchestra pit, Bruno Cinquegrani presided over a generally excellent orchestra that sometimes was encouraged a little too eagerly toward higher volume levels than were being produced on the stage (especially in Act I). Cinquegrani proved a sensitive and pliant accompanist to the singers, letting them take their time as they embellished their way through their arias. Flutist Scott Goff and harpist Valerie Muzzolini Gordon made important contributions.

Finally, a note on the dedication of this production to the late Craig Watjen, who was one of Seattle’s great patrons of the arts – and a terrific guy. Optimistic, knowledgeable, enthusiastic, and well versed in everything from opera and symphony to technology and baseball, Watjen and his wife Joan have made possible such cultural icons as Benaroya Hall’s Watjen Concert Organ and Seattle Opera’s “Ring.” He will be greatly missed.

Feature: Seattle Symphony’s Gund-Simonyi Commissions, honoring Gerard Schwarz

By Melinda Bargreen

Eighteen newly commissioned works.

It’s an extraordinary musical lineup, celebrating Gerard Schwarz’s 26th and final season as Seattle Symphony music director. The new works, officially called the Gund/Simonyi Farewell Commissions (after their underwriters, philanthropist Agnes Gund and software engineer Charles Simonyi), are a series of short brand-new pieces from leading American composers. The new music will premiere on concert programs through June 15-16.

The list of contributors amounts to a veritable “who’s who” of today’s top composers. Among them are famous minimalist Philip Glass, the East-meets-West stylist Bright Sheng, the venerable Gunther Schuller, and the virtuosic Ellen Taaffe Zwilich, first woman composer to win a Pulitzer Prize. Also on the list are Daron Hagen, composer of Seattle Opera’s recent “Amelia”; the highly original Paul Schoenfield; Seattle Symphony’s accomplished resident composer Samuel Jones; and a group of luminaries including Augusta Read Thomas, Joseph Schwantner, Aaron Jay Kernis, David Stock, Bernard Rands, Daniel Brewbaker, Robert Beaser, Chen Yi, George Tsontakis, David Schiff and Richard Danielpour.

Their scores have been arriving at the Seattle Symphony offices in thick envelopes, or as email attachments created in notation software (such as the Sibelius program). And they’ve been arriving as photocopies of handwritten originals, created with pencil and paper.

Has an orchestral project of this magnitude happened before? The closest comparison probably is the 150th anniversary season of the New York Philharmonic (1992-93), when 14 works were commissioned (four of them by composers from Seattle’s lineup: Hagen, Stock, Rands and Zwilich). The Boston Symphony also has a long list of new works celebrating its 125th, 100th, 75th and 50th anniversaries, and the National Symphony has a distinguished record of commissions from the era of conductor Leonard Slatkin. It’s safe to say, though, that Seattle’s total of 18 works from major composers goes well beyond the usual scope of the celebratory commission. This is a project SSO interim executive director Mark McCampbell calls “artistically important at a level that matches Jerry’s musical impact here.”

The 18 composers all have long histories with Gerard Schwarz, and some have been SSO composers in residence. The project was Schwarz’s idea; since he has long been known as a champion of new American works, it’s not surprising that he looked in this direction when devising his final season as music director.

“I wanted a way to make this season special,” Schwarz explains.

“Originally, I had the idea of doing an encore on each program, asking composer friends to do short pieces as a series of postscripts. But encores feel like a surprise and an afterthought, and the audience wouldn’t know what we were up to. I wanted to give the new pieces a specific place in the program.”

Schwarz went to composers who had been longtime friends, asking them to write short, five-minute works for the 2010-11 season. The conductor calls this process “a nostalgic trip for me,” because in some cases these musical relationships stretch back more than 40 years.

Ellen Taaffe Zwilich has known Schwarz since his early 20s --“back when he was the hottest trumpeter around. He was not only a gifted player, but he had the ability to grasp the entire score. He’s a great guy.”

“Every week I get a new piece,” says the conductor of the stream of new arrivals. “It’s great! But this does mean a tremendous effort on everyone’s part, especially our great librarians headed by Patricia Takahashi-Blayney.”

One score, by former SSO resident composer David Stock, has kept associate principal librarian Robert Olivia busy entering the photocopy of Stock’s penciled manuscript into the computer, with emails back and forth to check that details of clefs, sharps and flats are all correct. At the other end of the tech spectrum, Zwilich composes directly on her computer, and says she relishes not having to do the notation by hand. Her work, “Avanti: Fanfare for Jerry,” to be performed Feb. 3-6, has “a few little touches specific to Jerry.”

Three of the new works (by Thomas, Schwantner and Kernis) have already been premiered; up next, on Oct. 14-16, is the new Hagen composition. For details of the season and these commissions, visit www.seattlesymphony.org and click on “Announcing the Gund/Simonyi Farewell Commissions.”

Though Schwarz calls the commissions “the perfect exit to my music directorship,” he won’t disappear entirely: he will come in as conductor laureate to lead the SSO for six, five and four weeks (respectively) over the next three years.

“We will have some continuity,” he says of this honorary post, funded by Jack and Becky Benaroya. “And I am looking forward to having no administrative worries.

Review: Seattle Symphony, Sept. 23, with Yefim Bronfman, piano soloist

Seattle Symphony with pianist Yefim Bronfman, conductor Gerard Schwarz, in Masterpiece Series season opener.

By Melinda Bargreen

Sometimes, when you’re very lucky, you sit down in the theater seat and open your program and get a performance that defines the term “electrifying.”

That happened for lucky patrons of the Seattle Symphony’s season-opener on Sept. 23 – and for KING-FM’s live broadcast audience, too -- when Yefim Bronfman sat down at the piano for a Prokofiev Second Piano Concerto that literally left the audience gasping. You don’t hear this concerto very often, and now we know why: it’s spectacularly difficult.

Bronfman just devoured the keyboard, as the rapt audience listened and watched with the kind of fascinated attention you don’t always get in the concert hall. The first movement of the Prokofiev, with its lengthy and ultra-challenging cadenza, sounded as if two pianists – perhaps three – were all playing at once. The second movement sounded like an insanely out-of-control troika race. Jaunty and ironic, aggressive and cataclysmic, this performance wrenched every possible expressive opportunity out of the score. What a piece, and what an artist! This is music Bronfman was born to play, and Seattle listeners were lucky to be in the right place at the right time.

It was no easy job to keep up with Bronfman, but conductor Gerard Schwarz underscored the soloist’s breakneck speeds and herculean attacks with an orchestra that matched his larger-than-life interpretation.

The program, longer than usual, put the concerto at the end of the evening (an unusual development) and three works before intermission, including a very big symphony (the Brahms Third). The evening opened with a Joseph Schwantner world premiere – one of a series of new commissions honoring Schwarz’s final season as music director – and continued with Arthur Foote’s “Francesca da Rimini,” prior to the Brahms. The Foote is a pleasant enough piece, but it seemed an odd partner to the other two works on the program’s first half.

Concertmaster Maria Larionoff contributed the warm-toned, nicely shaped solo work to the Schwantner premiere, bearing the rather cumbersome title, “The Poet’s Hour … Soliloquy for Violin and Strings, ‘Reflections on Thoreau’.” Ruminative and tonal, the new one-movement piece begins with sustained passages that gradually build into angular ascents and descents in mostly fourths and fifths in the solo violin. It is an attractive and well-crafted work, but it has a limited repertoire of musical gestures that are extended a little too far.

The Brahms Third survived some intonation mishaps, a few wrong entrances, and a handful of miscalculations in a performance of romantic warmth and some impressive solo work. But the decision to give the culminating placement to the Prokofiev, rather than the Brahms, was 100 percent right. That concerto would have been an impossible act to follow.

Review: Seattle Symphony Opening Night Gala, Sept. 11

Seattle Symphony Opening Night Gala, with Gerard Schwarz conducting; Julian Schwarz (cello) and Denyce Graves (mezzo-soprano), soloists. Sept. 11, 2010.

By Melinda Bargreen

The football-stadium ovation began when Gerard Schwarz walked out on the stage of Benaroya Hall for the start of his valedictory season as Seattle Symphony music director, and the capacity crowd for the opening-night gala surged to its feet. If Schwarz has overstayed his welcome in Seattle – and in some quarters, notably among some of the musicians, it seems clear that he has – you certainly couldn’t tell from the reception he received, from the stage as well as from the house.

Schwarz has held the post of music director for 26 seasons, but September’s gala actually was the 28th Seattle opening night for this long-term maestro: he was music advisor, then principal conductor, before acceding to the music directorship. Over the years, he has brought the Seattle Symphony forward in many remarkable ways: championing American symphonists, commissioning new scores, amassing an impressive discography that received 13 Grammy nominations, and creating deep ties with the community that have lifted the orchestra’s public profile – not only in musical matters. It was the Benaroya family’s faith in Schwarz that led to their 5.8 million gift to launch an eponymous new concert hall, completed in 1998.

That long tenure also has meant that familiarity can breed discontent in a field where new challenges and new approaches are always sought. No matter how brilliant a conductor, as one Seattle player put it, “26 years is a long time to watch the same baton.”

The gala event that opened the maestro’s final season was a genuine celebration of Schwarz’s achievements in Seattle – a real Schwarz-fest, in fact. First, there was the world premiere of the conductor’s own composition, “The Human Spirit”; then, the world premiere of a cello concerto by longtime Schwarz associate Samuel Jones, featuring Schwarz’s gifted 19-year-old son Julian as soloist; finally, Gerard Schwarz’s arrangement of Strauss’ “Rosenkavalier” Suite. In between came Mahler’s “Songs of a Wayfarer,” with the opulent mezzo-soprano of Denyce Graves giving a performance of gravity and somber beauty.

Schwarz, who has gradually increased his focus on composition recently, was favorably represented by his new piece (a setting of a quotation carved into the north side of Benaroya Hall of Aaron Copland’s declaration that "So long as the human spirit thrives on this planet, music in some living form will accompany and sustain it and give it expressive meaning"). “The Human Spirit” proved an attractive and accomplished work, using a tonal palette in setting the text for four treble choirs and orchestra. Gently undulating, the work gradually grows into a smoothly modulating chromaticism whose restless key changes recall the mercurial turns of the final piece on the program (the “Rosenkavalier” Suite).

Samuel Jones has produced several new works for Schwarz and Seattle over the past few years, three of them concerti for instruments who don’t often get solo opportunities: tuba, French horn, and trombone. His new Cello Concerto shares many of the tuneful virtues of the previous works, which have found considerable favor with audiences, but it is a little shorter on thematic material. Each of the three connected movements takes a different turn on the same theme, posing technical challenges that were dispatched with apparent ease by young Julian Schwarz. He’s an impressive player whose clear involvement in the music is matched by his technical mastery, although his tone, velvety and quite dark, did not always project the solo line over the orchestra. Any questions of nepotism aside, this is an imposing young talent with what is likely to be a fine career ahead.

The finale, Schwarz’s “Rosenkavalier” arrangement, was a high-spirited affair that was much more Strauss than Schwarz (the latter’s changes were most apparent in the exuberant extended ending).

Although this is Schwarz’s final season as music director, he isn’t leaving Seattle; he’ll stay on as conductor laureate (a new post funded by the Benaroya family). In this capacity, he will lead a yet-undisclosed number of Seattle Symphony programs annually when the new French music director, Ludovic Morlot, arrives for the first season of his own six-year contract (2011-12). Morlot, resoundingly popular with the majority of the orchestra musicians, is a personable young maestro who should blow a breath of fresh air into the organization. Symphony-watchers who are nervous about the transition – and the orchestra’s .45 million deficit -- are relieved to know, however, that Schwarz and his deep community connections won’t be far away.

Review: Seattle Chamber Music Society’s Summer Festival on the Eastside, Aug. 11..

By Melinda Bargreen

It was a grand night for trios – a trio of trios, in fact, representing three of the finest works ever composed for three instruments. The penultimate program in this year’s Summer Festival on the Eastside, the Aug. 11 concert exhibited the kind of white-hot sizzle audiences have come to expect of this festival.

Nowhere was the musical temperature higher than in the evening’s finale, a heartfelt and sophisticated performance of Dvorak’s famous “Dumky” Trio (Op. 90). The three players – violinist Scott Yoo, cellist Ronald Thomas, and pianist Orion Weiss – dug into Dvorak’s richly melodic score with zest and flair.

Dvorak gave the nicest of those melodies to the cello, and Thomas made the most of them, with his luscious tone quality on what sounded like the velvety focus of a gut-strung instrument. He lavished an array of colors, shadings, and little details of phrasing on this performance, setting the bar high for his colleagues – who matched him phrase for phrase.

Weiss was particularly effective at the piano, giving a strong, vital performance that stepped easily into the center-stage role and back into a more supportive posture. It was an elegant performance, and so was that of violinist Yoo.

The evening opened with a high-precision, high-energy reading of Kodaly’s “Serenade for Two Violins and Viola,” well thought out and beautifully presented by Joseph Lin, Lily Francis and Richard O’Neill (respectively). A particular highlight was the Lento, the middle movement of the three, which had a wonderfully improvisatory feeling.

All three players made strong contributions to a remarkable performance. Violist O’Neill, whose instrument usually places him more in the center of an ensemble than in the foreground, proved again why he is one of the festival’s most consistently excellent players.

The Brahms C Major Piano Trio (Op. 101) looked beforehand like the work with the most possibilities, especially given the presence of the terrific Stefan Jackiw in the violinist spot (with pianist Anna Polonsky and cellist Robert deMaine). Surprisingly, though, the performance was rather mundane, despite the romantic firepower with which Brahms invested this work. It sounded dutiful rather than inspiring.

This has been a landmark year for the presenting Seattle Chamber Music Society, which (last month) moved the Seattle festival from the Lakeside School to Benaroya Hall’s smaller auditorium, the Nordstrom Recital Hall. The transition didn’t please everyone, but it certainly worked, drawing enthusiastic audiences and warm reviews. (The Eastside festival has remained in its regular home at the Overlake School.) That the SCMS can weather this kind of change in these tough economic times, and still produce concerts of this caliber, augurs very well for the long-term health of the organization. Long may it prosper.

R.I.P.: Seattle musician George Shangrow

By Melinda Bargreen

The news no one could quite believe was ricocheting around Facebook, Twitter and the phone lines with increasing speed Sunday evening and Monday, as more and more friends and fans tried to come to terms with the sudden death of George Shangrow in a car accident.

It’s a loss that feels deeply personal to so many in the music community. It’s personal to the musicians who worked with him in his Orchestra Seattle and Seattle Chamber Singers, who are now orphaned by the loss of their founder/conductor. And personal to the soloists he believed in, and the composers he championed, and the audiences he entertained and educated. And to the musical partners who performed with George at the keyboard, the listeners inspired by his lectures, and the radio audiences who followed his zesty interviews and commentary on KING-FM’s “Live, By George” show.

Why is this one man so important? Because it’s impossible to think of anyone who more embodied the essential joy of music – the visceral thrill of great music, great performances, and wholehearted participation. George’s heart and soul were bound up in this joy, and he was determined to share it with the world.

When George buttonholed you, beaming and exclaiming “You’ve GOT to hear this!”, you knew your next hour was spoken for. It would be a recording of pianist Mark Salman (“an unbelievable artist!”) playing Beethoven, or perhaps a new piece by Robert Kechley (“one of the greatest composers today!”), or an old disc of the Elizabethan Singers performing British folksongs (“You’ll love this!”). Whoever it was, you could be sure it was a performance that communicated energy and fun, one that shunned dull orthodoxy.

Music lovers will long remember the roaring excitement of George’s Bach performances on the harpsichord with his longtime duo partner, flutist Jeff Cohan. How often do you get to use “roaring excitement” and “Bach sonatas” in the same sentence? – Not often enough, George would say. He also specialized in getting the most possible excitement out of Handel's "Messiah," an annual fixture on his concert schedule. As a festive postscript, he inaugurated the after-Christmas tradition of the "Sing Along, Play Along Messiah," conducting all comers for years in a boisterous come-as-you-are version of the Handel classic in University Unitarian Church.

A Shangrow performance was less concerned about details of historical practice than about extracting the “juice” of the music and presenting it to listeners. As a conductor, he was so riveting to watch that the performers visually locked onto his face and his hands, ready to follow him anywhere. Rehearsals for the Seattle Chamber Singers (with which I sang in the 1970s, before becoming a music critic) were never a dull slog. They were usually both serious and uproarious, full of fun and jokes that sometimes were unprintable.

Irreverent, funny and erudite, George had plenty of chutzpah and a substantial ego – but he was the first to recognize when he was wrong. In the late 70s, when I had an extra set of tickets to Seattle Opera’s Wagnerian “Ring,” I invited George to come along. He had previously dismissed the “Ring” as not particularly interesting, but this firsthand experience transformed him. He immediately began reading everything he could find on the subject, becoming a passionate advocate and eventually an inspiring lecturer on these operas.

George’s strong commitment to new music meant lots of fundraising to drum up enough money for a commission. In the nonprofit-arts world, this kind of money is very difficult to find, but he was persistent. He also knew what he wanted: music that had beauty, expressive content, and the ability to communicate. George had no patience with compositional gimmicks or random sounds from what he called “the Squawk-Bleep School.”  The composers he championed – Robert Kechley, Carol Sams, Huntley Beyer – produced over the past four decades a remarkable body of work that might not have come to the public without Shangrow’s enthusiasm and determination.

One reason George’s Seattle musical roots are so deep is that he started so early. He was still in high school when he founded the Seattle Chamber Singers. Back in early 1969, when Shangrow was only 17, the Roosevelt High School senior was already termed “a genius” by another legend, Seattle Times feature writer Don Duncan, who cited his talents as composer, arranger, pianist, harpsichordist, choral director, and teacher of flute, piano and organ. “One thing seems certain,” Duncan accurately predicted. “We will be hearing more about George Shangrow in the years ahead.”

Ever since his high-school years, George remained loyal to his musical friends, many who continued to perform with him regularly over the years. The opera singer Margaret Russell, now based in Germany, joined Carol Sams (who also is a singer) in a Seattle duo recital with Shangrow at the keyboard last summer, reuniting friendships that span four decades. Russell’s husband, Dennis Van Zandt, also one of Shangrow’s closest friends since high school, has continued his love for choral singing in Germany. Over the years, George’s musicians would bring their new babies to rehearsals in their backpacks and baskets; later, as toddlers, the kids would rampage through church pews during rehearsals, and finally they’d start their own music lessons, as the years rolled past.

It’s no exaggeration, however, to say that thousands of Seattle-area music lovers considered George Shangrow a friend, even those who only knew him as that great radio voice announcing the next musical treat in store. Gregarious, enthusiastic, and never happier than before a receptive audience, George also made friends of hundreds of students who learned from him at the Seattle Conservatory of Music, Seattle Community College and Seattle University.

George’s longtime friend and violinist Deede Cook observed: “Our time in Seattle Chamber Singers was such a rich period for all of us -- young, trying to make sense of the world, coming of age as adults, and establishing ourselves as musicians. Passions ran high -- and so did creativity. And our beloved George was at the center of the storm. I am so grateful to him for all that beautiful music and I feel so sad that we will not have the opportunity of enjoying a delightful friendship together in our old age.”

The greatest loss, of course, is to Shangrow’s only child, Daisy (almost 15), who was the light of her father’s life. He waited a long time to become a parent, and threw himself into that role with total joy, involving himself deeply in her education. Never was a father more proud of his daughter – her sweet nature, her appearance, and her musical talent as a budding cellist. Friends were eagerly shown the latest Daisy photos and regaled with tales of her progress.

The Shangrow family, which includes brother Robert, sisters Reba Utevsky and Mary Schimmelbusch, stepsons Zachary and Luke Wheeler, nephew Spencer Shangrow, and nieces Nicola Shangrow-Reilly, Olivia Shangrow, and Natasha, Hazel and Nora Utevsky, is still deciding details of a memorial event. That information will be posted as soon as it is available. Judging from all those devastated emails, posts and phone calls, they’re going to need a very large venue. A chunk of Seattle’s musical heart has been ripped away. And people are grieving.

Review: Seattle Opera’s “Tristan und Isolde,” July 31, 2010:

By Melinda Bargreen

Expectations were high when Seattle Opera announced a new production of Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde”: the last go-round in 1998 paired Jane Eaglen and Ben Heppner for what one San Francisco reviewer called “a titanic ‘Tristan’.”

Filling Eaglen’s and Heppner’s shoes is a formidable job, and the new Seattle “Tristan” is not quite titanic. It isn’t a sinking “Titanic” either, however, boasting an impressive cast and the lyrical hand of conductor Asher Fisch in the McCaw Hall orchestra pit.

For sheer decibel levels, you’ll have to go a long way to beat the leading singers assembled by company general director Speight Jenkins. Swedish soprano Annalena Persson, making her U.S. debut as Isolde, was paired with tenor Clifton Forbis, a veteran as Tristan who also debuted in Seattle as Cavaradossi in 2001. These singers, and the rest of the cast, have voices with the real Wagnerian heft; at times, as in the duets, an almost overwhelming volume of sound sweeps out from the stage and into the house.

Persson is an attractive singer who looks right as Isolde, but the first 15 minutes or so of the opening-night Act I were terrifying as she struggled to get ahold of her voice. The wobble was so wide that it was difficult to tell which note she was trying to sing. After that, however, the soprano steadied, and the rest of the singing was commendable -- though the “Liebestod” lacked some of the emotional intensity that makes it such a satisfying ending to this wonderfully epic score.

Forbis, a sturdy and reliable Tristan, had a hard time finding a middle ground between an utterly tremendous bellow and the voice-saving “coast” mode (mainly employed in Act I, which was more muttered than declaimed). He rose to real heroism, however, in the tenor-killing Act III, in which his passionate longing for Isolde was convincing and compelling.

Regulars in Seattle Opera’s “Ring” and other Wagnerian productions completed the cast -- and none of them disappointed the eager “Tristan” audience. Greer Grimsley, the Wotan of the current Seattle “Ring” production, made an affecting and resonant Kurwenal. Margaret Jane Wray’s gleaming, powerful soprano gave the handmaiden role of Brangäne unusual impact. And Stephen Milling was almost too good as King Marke; you could almost see the audience approval rating for Tristan and Isolde dropping like a stone, for betraying such a noble, empathetic man whose pain and decency were made so real. Simeon Esper (Sailor/Shepherd) and Jason Collins (Melot) made the most of their roles’ opportunities.

And in the orchestra pit, seasoned Wagnerian Asher Fisch did wonders with the sensuous score, giving it the rich colors and surging emotion without ever overwhelming the singers. Kudos to English horn player Stefan Farkas and to trumpeter Justin Emerich, whose “holztrompete” was particularly effective in Act III.

This “Tristan” is not as easy on the eye as on the ear. Designed by Robert Israel (whose postmodern 1980s “Ring” was one of his more controversial Seattle productions), and directed by company regular Peter Kazaras, the show’s intent is said to be an exploration of “Tristan time” that “reaches back and forth into different dimensions, of the magnification of time.” Well, perhaps. I would argue that the one thing you’re not looking for in a five-hour opera is the “magnification of time.”

What happened instead is a drama in which Tristan and Isolde’s big Act II tryst, in which they are consumed by violent passion for each other, was expressed by an extremely slow, stately walk about the set during which the two lovers didn’t look at each other or touch each other. Tristan runs his hand tenderly over the surface of a block-like boulder from which he earlier emerged (courtesy of some nifty lighting effects), but he does not so much as hold hands with the woman with whom he is frantically besotted. It’s curious, to say the least.

Israel’s set, with its spare, rectangular spaces and stage-front row of stairs (on which the singers often sit), features what appears to be a long clothesline with a sheet over it, behind which some of the action takes place. The singers wear strange kimono-like garments that tie on the sides. Near the end of the opera, when Isolde’s ship finally comes into view, Kurwenal depicts the arrival by hoisting a little model ship overhead, an act that several audience members apparently found risible.

Still, when musical values are paramount, the audience is well served, and that is the case in this production. The Wagnerian Mecca of Seattle is again worth a visit from opera lovers who want to hear a worthy cast -- not all that easy to find these days -- in a score that will always be a magnet to real music lovers.

Review: Seattle Chamber Music Society’s Summer Festival, July 7, 2010:

By Melinda Bargreen

July 7 was a hot night for local music lovers – but not because of Seattle’s soaring ambient temperatures. Inside Benaroya Hall’s Nordstrom Recital Hall, the heat was generated by a small corps of Seattle Chamber Music Society players, serenading a near-capacity crowd with Schumann, Mendelssohn, and Schoenberg.

Schoenberg is generally a guaranteed audience repellent; applied liberally, it is most effective in clearing an auditorium of listeners. But chamber music cognoscenti know that this particular piece, “Verklärte Nacht,” was composed before Schoenberg went over to the atonal Dark Side (serialism, or the twelve-tone technique of composition Schoenberg later pioneered). “Verklärte Nacht” is a richly scored late-Viennese sextet, full of restless shape-shifting chromaticism that resolves into passages of almost unearthly beauty – especially when the piece gets a performance like this one.

James Ehnes, the Grammy-winning violinist who also is associate artistic director of the festival, took a strong and assertive lead in the ensemble, whose other members included violinist Augustin Hadelich, violists Cynthia Phelps and Richard O’Neill, and cellists Bion Tsang and Robert deMaine.  It tells you something about the depth of talent here when you have a bona fide star like Hadelich (Avery Fisher Career Grant, Indianapolis Violin Competition gold medalist) playing second fiddle.

This was a group whose members listened to each other with the kind of expert intensity that makes for first-class chamber music. Intervals were concise; entrances and shifts in tempo and dynamics were made with a precision and expertise that bespeaks a real knowledge of this complex, gorgeous work. The audience, rapt and spellbound, knew something quite special was happening on the stage.

But the Schoenberg wasn’t the only excitement of the evening. Mendelssohn’s familiar D Minor Piano Trio (Op. 49) got a white-hot performance from violinist Andrew Wan, cellist Edward Arron, and pianist Adam Neiman. (Neiman also took over for his indisposed colleague Andrew Armstrong in the program’s opener, the Schumann Violin Sonata No. 1, with violinist Erin O’Keefe.)

The Mendelssohn players looked at each other far more than they glanced at the music, working to build a beautifully unified approach to this classic trio. Arron, in particular, impressed with his dark, smoky cello tone, the kind of sound that just bewitches the ear.

The three players headed into the third Scherzo movement as if going for a new land speed record, which they just might have achieved. Neiman sent shimmering cascades of notes up and down the keyboard and near-impossible velocity; somehow his and the string players’ efforts were so closely coordinated that the Scherzo sounded lighter than air.

Yes, the green sylvan ambience of the festival’s home for the previous 28 years (the Lakeside School) is missing from this new downtown version. But the delighted audiences who spilled out into the Nordstrom Recital Hall lobby after the incendiary Mendelssohn weren’t buzzing about the change in picnic facilities or the formerly-free intermission coffee. They were excited about the music and the musicians – just as these audiences always have been. Green lawns are all very nice, but sizzling Schoenberg is priceless.

Review: Seattle Symphony with Gerard Schwarz and pianist Simon Trpceski; June 10, 2010

By Melinda Bargreen

He came; he played; he conquered.

Like his more famous fellow Macedonian (Alexander the Great), the pianist Simon Trpčeski is adept at the art of conquest. At the Seattle Symphony’s recent subscription programs, Trpčeski’s preferred weapon was the Saint-Saëns Piano Concerto No. 2, a work that might possibly have never sounded so important or so impressive as it did in Benaroya Hall. With the partnership of the Seattle Symphony and Gerard Schwarz, Trpčeski charged headlong into the concerto, dazzling the ear with cascades of perfectly even, impossibly fast arpeggios played with immaculate technique and occasional flashes of humor.

When a wave of applause started to arise between movements, the pianist directed a quick, sharp glance out in the house that said, “I don’t think so,” as clearly as if he had been talking. The applauders quickly shushed.  If Trpčeski ever tires of the keyboard (and we all hope he won’t), he might have a brilliant career in politics.

Seattle can reflect with considerable pride on the fact that Trpčeski’s U.S. debut took place here in Benaroya Hall, in a 2002 Seattle Symphony concert. He was instantly a huge audience favorite, a position that has been resoundingly reinforced by his subsequent Seattle performances. The Saint-Saëns Second is not the deepest concerto in the repertoire, but when it’s played like this, it cannot fail to impress. In the third movement, Trpčeski took the music at a clip that may well have established a land speed record, tossing off impossibly fast and accurate roulades of sound that made the listeners leap to their feet and shout and whistle. The ovation was rewarded with an encore: Macedonian composer Pande Shahov's energetically rhythmic “In Struga.”

Schwarz and the orchestra matched the soloist’s phenomenal energy, which cannot have been easy. The rest of the all-French program didn’t reach this level of excitement, though there were certainly rewards in the lineup of Debussy (Prelude to “L’après-midi d’un faune”), Ravel (“Pavane for a Dead Princess”) and Chausson (the Symphony in B-Flat Major, Op. 20). Scott Goff provided a suavely nuanced solo line in the Debussy, along with oboist Shannon Spicciati; Mark Robbins played the horn solos in the Ravel.

The orchestra was not in the best shape of the season. There were some great moments (the woodwind solos flowed seamlessly into each other in the Debussy), some conspicuously bad entrances (notably in the Ravel), and some moments when the ensemble broke down (the oscillating figures in thirds in the last movement of the Chausson). And though the works on the program all have a certain charm, the Chausson Symphony made it abundantly clear why the name of Ernst Chausson is not inscribed next to Beethoven and Mozart in the pantheon of the great masters. A slim menu of sadly overworked, minor melodies does not make a great symphony. Paul Schiavo’s excellent program notes point out that the Chausson Symphony seriously taxed the inventive powers of the composer, a fact that is driven home repeatedly during a hearing of the score – even when it is as well played as it was under Schwarz’s baton.

Mark Morris Dance Group with Seattle Symphony; reviewed May 22

By Melinda Bargreen

Springtime in Seattle means rain, rhododendrons, and – for three years now – the welcome return of Mark Morris. One of Seattle’s most celebrated native sons, the perpetually inventive Morris has added the role of (occasional) conductor to his resume. And in his three-concert collaboration with the Seattle Symphony and the Tudor Choir at the Paramount Theatre, Morris and his Mark Morris Dance Group ignited the crowds with the sass and class that make this inventive choreographer one of a kind.

The program, all drawn from relatively early Morris works based on baroque and early-classical scores, opened with two works conducted by the capable Christopher Knapp (formerly the Seattle Symphony’s associate conductor). First came Morris’ 1991 “The Lake,” to Haydn’s Horn Concerto No. 2 in D Major (Mark Robbins, the Seattle Symphony’s associate principal horn, did a fine job as soloist). Following the Haydn came a 1993 Bach-based work, “Jesu, meine Freude,” with music from Doug Fullington’s accomplished Tudor Choir (with some assistance from the Symphony’s Eric Gaenslen, cello, and Jonathan Green, bass, plus organist Colin Fowler). The finale, “Gloria,” is a company standby: a dance made in 1981 on the familiar Vivaldi score – this time, with the choreographer picking up the baton down in the orchestra pit.

Each of the three pieces is recognizably Morris, though each is different in its repertoire of gesture and whimsy and spirit. What unites all the work is the remarkable, unmistakable musicality that infuses everything Morris does. The dance underlines and expresses what is going on in the score, so that the elements of sound and motion are joined in consistently inventive ways. The voices in a fugue come vividly to life on the stage, with the entrance of each musical voice underlined by the entrance of a dancer (or dancers). The arrival of a musical cadenza in the Horn Concerto is echoed by a sudden pause on the stage, then a flurry of what look like equally improvisatory elements by the dancers.

Morris himself is almost as engaging to watch as his dancers when he takes on the conducting role – a role that seems quite natural for a choreographer who so deeply understands the score and its forward impulse.

Morris’ troupe is a wonderfully diverse collection of dancers, in which the “ballet body” ideal is contradicted by strong, muscular, occasionally meaty-looking bodies that are great at interpreting the freedom and the discipline of Morris’ aesthetic. There’s a lot of swooping grace, and also a lot of staccato gestures with sharply angled wrists and stylized poses suggesting an Egyptian frieze. Occasionally, as in “Jesu, meine Freude,” details of the hand placement are particularly telling – the visual jolt of a sudden presentation of palms with outspread fingers like sun’s rays.

Following the final “Gloria,” in which the dancers literally kick up their heels with what feels like the sheer joy of movement, the Paramount audience rose to its feet for an equally joyous ovation. The hall may have felt oppressively airless (something needs to be done about that ventilation system), and many of the patrons had to wait for their will-call tickets in long lines in the pelting rain. But when Morris came out on the stage to take his curtain calls with the company, the roar of approval made it clear that it’s good indeed to have this Seattle guy and his group back in town.

Seattle Opera’s “Amelia,” opera by Daron Aric Hagen in its world premiere; reviewed May 12

By Melinda Bargreen

After an eight-year genesis and a flood of techno-publicity that included tweeting the entire libretto and posting extensive YouTube videos, Seattle Opera’s long-awaited first commission has achieved liftoff: “Amelia” is an impassioned, accessible opera that boasts a near-perfect cast and some scenes that will have you reaching for your hankies. Like some of the characters in this new opera (including Amelia Earhart and the mythological Icarus), “Amelia” loses altitude occasionally, but it never crashes – thanks to a soaring score by Daron Aric Hagen, a masterly conducting job by Gerard Schwarz, intelligent staging by story writer Stephen Wadsworth, and singing actors who draw you right into Amelia’s world.

When Seattle Opera general director Speight Jenkins decided to commission a new opera, he and Wadsworth assessed a long list of potential composers and story lines, looking for a particular 21st-century version of Americana. Hagen’s writing, which has some clear antecedents in Bernstein and Rorem but is distinctively his own, made him a clear choice; Hagen, in turn, led the production team to poet Gardner McFall as the librettist. McFall’s own life experience – losing a pilot father during the Vietnam War – is echoed in the plot of “Amelia”: the father in the opera bears the same name as McFall’s own father (Dodge), and wears the same uniform (right down to the details of emblems and patches); even his final letter to his family is quoted in the opera’s libretto. Wadsworth, who also is the production’s very able stage director, shaped the opera’s story line.

“Amelia,” which is composed in two acts of three scenes each, gets off to a slow start, in a lyrical opening scene that sounds self-consciously poetic in its paeans to flying and soaring, as the nine-year-old Amelia is saying an extended goodnight to her pilot father who is about to leave on his second tour of duty in Vietnam. The time frame of subsequent scenes leapfrogs from the mid-1960s to the mid-90s (Amelia, now is in her late 30s, is pregnant with her own daughter). Then there’s a brief diversion backward a decade to the 1980s, when Amelia and her mother journey to Vietnam after receiving a letter from a North Vietnamese couple who have information about Dodge. Then we’re back in the 90s.

These non-sequential time periods are complicated further by the presence of people who inhabit the same scene but are unaware of each other: Dodge is saying goodnight to young Amelia in one side of the house while on the other side, a black car arrives with the news that Dodge is missing in action. And the mythical characters of Daedalus and Icarus are building Icarus’ wings out of wax and feathers in the bedroom shared by the adult Amelia and her husband Paul. Making periodic appearances is the historical Amelia Earhart (who is called “The Flier” in this production), first preparing for her plane’s fatal crash into the ocean, and later landing her spectacular Lockheed Electra plane on the roof of the hospital where adult Amelia is giving birth. The Flier then descends into the waiting room, where she declares, “I was never bored.” This isn’t an opera for the literal-minded.

Hagen’s music morphs and changes to underscore the emotional content of the various scenes – always fundamentally tonal, but with plenty of wrenching sonorities, too (especially in the Vietnam scene, which vividly depicts the events of Dodge’s capture and subsequent reprisals). The score reportedly got some last-minute augmentation during the rehearsal process, when it was discovered that more music was needed for instrumental interludes during scene changes. These interludes are some of the most accomplished parts of the opera – especially the one preceding the final scene, with its exciting and intricate percussion. Schwarz gives the orchestra full rein, and the players respond with power and alacrity.

Thomas Lynch’s sets include a gorgeous, painterly landscape for the Vietnam scene, which – after the slow-moving and ruminative opening scenes -- gives the opera a jolt of dramatic and musical energy. The skies, so crucially symbolic in an opera about flight and flying, are especially lovely, with dramatic sunset colors and velvety, starry nightscapes.

The cast is of unimpeachable excellence. Among the standouts: the passionate singing and acting of Kate Lindsey’s title-role performance. She plays Amelia as if her life depended on it, convincing even when she storms her hapless husband’s office and has a major temper tantrum that concludes with a three-day coma. William Burden sets just the right tone as an empathetic Dodge, singing with remarkable finesse. Nathan Gunn’s Paul is no mere tower-of-strength cardboard character, but an affecting figure, especially in the letter scene (where he beautifully sings the letter that Dodge left behind for the family).

Jennifer Zetlan is a swaggering, fearless Flier with lots of clear high notes, and Ashley Emerson is astonishingly believable as the young Amelia. As Amelia’s Aunt Helen, Wagnerian soprano Jane Eaglen does compelling work in a small role; it’s great to have that sumptuous voice back on the Seattle Opera stage.

All these figures reunite for a final scene at the hospital that is chaotic, but oddly thrilling as the singers venture forth unaccompanied – as the orchestra gradually returns to support them in a finale where nearly everyone finds closure.

“Amelia” is onstage at Seattle’s Marion Oliver McCaw Hall through May 22 (tickets and info at www.seattleopera.org).

The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Robert Spano, guest conductor, and pianist Dejan Lazic; Benaroya Hall, 4/29/10

The Seattle Symphony, with Robert Spano conducting, and Dejan Lazic, piano soloist.

By Melinda Bargreen

The big question in the current Seattle Symphony subscription program: would the near-capacity audience melt away after intermission? Orchestras take a big chance when they program a big contemporary piece after the audience has already had its dessert (in this case, the ever-popular Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2, with soloist Dejan Lazic).

And sure enough, when guest conductor Robert Spano returned to the podium after the intermission, it was to a much-reduced house with many vacancies in every section. It would be great to be able to say that the departed music fans missed out on a wonderful experience in the performance of John Adams’ three-part “Harmonielehre.” Instead, it was difficult not to feel a sneaking sympathy with the audience members who bolted after the first movement, and more who sneaked out after the second.

The Adams piece, premiered in 1985, is considered one of the most important orchestral works by this Berkeley-based composer of such operas as “Nixon in China” and “Dr. Atomic.” Spano’s knowledge and understanding of the dense, complicated score was evident throughout the performance, manifested by extremely clear, direct conducting and generous cueing of the various orchestral sections. Those cues must have been a godsend to the players who were struggling to find their entrances in the morass of repeated minimalist figures that were probably a nightmare to count.

Densely scored and sometimes incredibly noisy, “Harmonielehre” sounded like equal parts minimalism (repeated motoric motifs) and John Williams’ score for the movie “E.T.” Because the full orchestra was frequently sawing and blowing away at top volume, the sound levels were sometimes intense. Several of the musicians were wearing earplugs, and members of the audience may well have wished for earplugs of their own.

Were there beautiful portions of this score? Yes, indeed, particularly in the slower second movement (titled “Amfortas: The Wound,” as a nod to Wagner’s “Parsifal”). But in at least some respects, Adams was covering ground that Gustav Holst invented, and did incomparably better, 65 years earlier in the final movement of “The Planets” (“Neptune, the Mystic”). The third movement of “Harmonielehre,” called “Meister Eckhardt and Quackie,” also has some attractive rising and falling melodic lines surrounded by busy “twinkling” figures in the winds and some strings, oscillating back and forth against the slower melody.

The remaining audience members gave Spano and the orchestra a hearty ovation. An even warmer response greeted the earlier portion of the show, starting with a colorful Sibelius opener (“Pohjola’s Daughter”) and continuing with the Rachmaninoff. The young Croatian-born pianist Dejan Lazic disregarded the usual keyboard-thumping, knuckle-busting approach to the Piano Concerto No. 2, choosing instead a clearer and subtler reading in which the technical challenges were dispatched with unusually clean playing. 

Spano and Lazic were obviously in accord, with balances between soloist and orchestra very carefully observed. It’s rare that you actually hear a soloist play all those notes, which usually are jammed together with a lot of sustaining pedal. Not this time. It’d be interesting to hear Lazic in more and different repertoire; this is a memorable pianist.

Up next: The noted baroque violinist and conductor Andrew Manze comes to Benaroya Hall to lead the orchestra in an intriguing “Baroque Themes and Variations” program that stretches from Corelli to Michael Tippett, as well as Vaughan Williams’ divine “Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis.” This engaging maestro will offer musical commentary from the podium. Highly recommended (May 6-9).

The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Gilbert Varga, guest conductor, and Horacio Gutiérrez, piano soloist; April 15, 2010

The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with guest conductor Gilbert Varga and piano soloist Horacio Gutiérrez; April 15.

By Melinda Bargreen

This spring, with only a year left before the departure of Gerard Schwarz as music director, eyes and ears are riveted with particular intensity on the guest conductors who are taking turns on the Seattle Symphony’s podium. They might be candidates for the directorship – though the Symphony is keeping mum on the search committee’s official list.

With all that in mind, the arrival of Gilbert Varga for his Seattle debut saw a substantial contingent of Symphony fans sitting up and taking notice. The son of noted Hungarian violinist Tibor Varga, he has held conducting posts with the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra, the Malmö Symphony, and the Basque National Symphony Orchestra – a respectable but not a brilliant resume, but one that also includes a lot of guest-conducting engagements in this country and in Europe.

Here in Seattle, Varga proved an entertaining conductor to watch, spurring the conjecture that he has taken flamenco lessons as well as conducting studies. He is a flamboyant, ultra-energetic maestro whose huge, swooping gestures with the stick make you worry a little about the players sitting closest to that baton. You’d want to stay well out of the way. The positive aspect to all of this is a very expressive conducting style that clearly conveys what Varga wants to the musicians (and to the audience), along with more “body English” than you’d find at a professional bowlers’ tournament. Never has Stravinsky’s “Pétrouchka” emerged so convincingly as a dance score.

Varga also is a conductor who feels secure without a score – even in the complicated, quicksilver “Pétrouchka” and with an unfamiliar orchestra. You have to admire this level of confidence and security, especially when the level of execution was equally high.

The program opened with a modest charmer, George Enescu’s “Romanian Rhapsody,” in which Varga drew a warm, burnished sound from the strings in their opening melody. He proved a solid, expressive partner to pianist Horacio Gutiérrez in one of the greatest of Beethoven’s piano concertos, the No. 4. Gutiérrez opened with an eloquent, sweetly-phrased solo statement, and went on to a performance as fine as any I’ve heard from him (and that’s saying plenty). The playing was beautiful, thoughtful, and full of the kind of details that bespeak the most thoughtful consideration of the music. The yearning, searching phrases of the tricky second movement were particularly effective; the technical challenges of the other two movements also were met with dazzling dexterity.

The finale, Stravinsky’s 1947 version of “Pétrouchka,” was remarkable for both its clarity and for the brilliant, shimmering colors Varga drew from the players. It sounded as if this piece had gotten a lot of rehearsal time (though there’s never all that much rehearsal time in the few days allotted to the preparation of these subscription programs). Even though the performance had a modest share of minor timing and intonation errors, the ensemble was tighter, the playing more consistently unanimous, than usual. In many respects “Pétrouchka” is a pointillist score, made up of thousands of little musical bursts of sound, many of them extremely subtle, and all of them elucidated quite effectively by the conductor and the musicians. It’s also a score that presents considerable challenges to a wide variety of principal players, all of whom stepped up to the requirements.

The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Gerard Schwarz conducting and Alexander Toradze, piano soloist; April 1, 2010

By Melinda Bargreen

Why isn’t the Prokofiev Piano Concerto No. 5 performed more often?

Maybe because there is only one Alexander Toradze – and it’s hard to imagine any other pianist playing this wild and woolly concerto with the same degree of authority, mastery, and utter abandon. Toradze, a fairly regular Seattle guest over the years, is always good for a compelling display of keyboard thunder-power, but this time he outdid himself.

In Thursday night’s first of three performances with the Seattle Symphony and music director Gerard Schwarz, Toradze attacked the ivories with such gusto that he opened a small cut on one thumb, necessitating a quick wipe of the piano keys between the first and second movement of the Prokofiev. The cut certainly didn’t seem to impede any of the keyboard fireworks that followed in the remaining four movements, which were full of explosive octaves and red-hot glissandos.

This is not to say that the performance, which followed the Symphony’s shimmering reading of Janacek’s Suite from “The Cunning Little Vixen,” was mere athleticism or pounding. Toradze winnowed down his wall of sound to the tiniest whisper in several passages, and was appropriately ruminative in the wistful fourth movement. He also handled the work’s mercurial twists and turns, its mordant and abrupt stops and starts, with a kaleidoscopic array of effects.

Schwarz and the orchestra kept up with the soloist, which is saying plenty, and also gave him strong support. So did the audience, leaping up for a standing ovation of considerable warmth. It was a good-sized house, probably drawn not only by Toradze’s reputation but also by the chance to hear Mussorgsky’s landmark “Pictures at an Exhibition” (in the brilliantly colored Ravel orchestration). And the “Pictures” got a good performance, with Schwarz taking considerable care over phrase-shaping and sharply drawn dynamic contrasts.

The orchestra played well for him; David Gordon gave a confident account of the important trumpet solos, and the brass section was generally well blended and better in tune. The array of wind solos showed the strength of many of the Symphony’s most prominent players. It’s possible to argue with some choices -- the decision to give the “Bydlo” tuba solo to the brighter-toned euphonium, for instance -- but it is always a pleasure to hear Ko-ichiro Yamamoto. The grandiose final movement (“The Great Gate of Kiev”) was spectacular, shivering the timbers of both Benaroya Hall and its audience.

The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with guest conductor Thomas Dausgaard, March 25, 2010.

By Melinda Bargreen

Is he … or isn’t he?

Is the 46-year-old Danish conductor Thomas Dausgaard a candidate for the Seattle Symphony music directorship, a potential successor to Gerard Schwarz when the latter leaves at the end of next season?

The Seattle Symphony won’t say – though the smart money is on Dausgaard as a very viable candidate, despite his recent statement in a Seattle press interview that it was “important not to be away too long” from his family with three sons. Dausgaard’s favorable impression was enhanced March 25-27, when the dynamic Dane returned to Benaroya Hall to lead the Seattle Symphony in an unusual program of Lutoslawski (Symphony No. 4), Rachmaninoff (Piano Concerto No. 4), and Sibelius (Symphony No. 5).

Energetic, active and expressive, Dausgaard seemed adept at getting what he wanted from the orchestra, which followed his cues in everything from the complicated Lutoslawski score to the more standard fare of the Sibelius symphony. Adroitly cueing the musicians in the Lutoslawski, a virtuoso piece with shimmering textures and tricky entrances, Dausgaard did his most impressive work of the evening. The solo moments were first-rate, starting with the exquisitely subtle clarinet opening by Laura DeLuca and continuing with the seamless Q-and-A lines of violinists Maria Larionoff, Emma McGrath and Elisa Barston. For this listener, it’s a score that excites great admiration on a technical level, but not a major emotional connection; still, in a fine performance, the Lutoslawski packs a formidable punch.

And so did the Brazilian-born pianist Arnaldo Cohen, in the seldom-heard Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 4. This much-revised work is a pale shadow of the greater No. 2 and No. 3 of the same composer, and at times – as in the second movement, whose opening sounds like a cocktail-lounge improvisation on “Three Blind Mice” – it verges on the risible. What a surprise, then, to hear this concerto transformed into a brilliantly, explosively successful piece in the hands of Cohen, who blazed a trail up and down the ivories in a manner that drew gasps and cheers from the listeners. It wasn’t all just shallow effects, either; this was the thinking man’s Rachmaninoff, suggesting heretofore unimagined depths in this often neglected score. Way to go, Arnaldo!

The finale, the Sibelius Fifth, found Dausgaard obviously at home (he conducted without a score) and at his most energetic, shaping the first-movement melodies with lots of expressive thrust, and delivering the work’s final hammer blows with maximum impact. Just as effective were the subtly murmuring woodwinds in the second movement. Dausgaard could have attended to a few other details (the brass intonation suffered in the finale), but all in all, it was a triumphant performance. Too bad so many audience members hiked out at intermission and didn’t return for the Sibelius; maybe they felt that after hearing Cohen’s Rachmaninoff, the rest of the evening could hold no comparable thrills.

The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with guest conductor Vassily Sinaisky, March 18th, 2010.

By Melinda Bargreen

If you want to hear an orchestra on its mettle, head for Benaroya Hall now through Sunday to catch the latest Seattle Symphony program with guest conductor Vassily Sinaisky. There’s something about this maestro that moves the players to the edge of their seats and sends that little frisson of awareness across the stage – and the results are invariably exciting.

That is the case with the current program, which pairs the Brahms Double Concerto (for Violin and Cello) with a 20th-century masterpiece, Ravel’s ballet “Daphnis et Chloé.” It’s unusual to start a concert with the concerto, but why not? – especially when you have two soloists of the caliber of Norwegian-born Henning Kraggerud and German-born Daniel Müller-Schott. Brahms gave the big opening statement of the concerto to the cellist, and Müller-Schott made it spectacular: all deep, rich sound with powerful focus. The two soloists, top-class leaders among emerging international artists, played as if they were chamber partners, each listening to and answering the other while Sinaisky wrapped that warm blanket of Brahms harmonies around them. An excited audience called the soloists back again and again after the final triumphant chord.

“Daphnis et Chloé” usually appears on orchestral programs in the form of suites taken from the full ballet score. Not this time: it was the entire score, complete with chorus. It’s a vast musical canvas, the musical equivalent of a gigantic and intricate Impressionist painting, full of virtuoso details.

Sinaisky conducted with economical gestures that occasionally mimed the musical effects – swaying from side to side on the podium, for example, to act out the mood of a given passage. His baton invites the players to respond, and he looked pleased at the outcome (as well he might). Not everything worked well; there was some divergence among the violins in the opening movement of the Brahms, and in the Ravel, the Chorale (prepared by Joseph Crnko) had trouble with intonation and precision in a tricky a cappella section. But it was a great night for many of the players, including Scott Goff, Christopher Sereque, Ben Hausmann, Stefan Farkas, Zartouhi Dombourian-Eby, Laura DeLuca, and Mark Robbins, to name a few standouts. They sizzled their way through this sensuous score as if it were X-rated.

In Memoriam: Maybeth Pressley, Seattle Symphony violinist for 43 years

By Melinda Bargreen

Maybeth Pressley believed in harmony – in a big way. The longtime Seattle Symphony Orchestra violinist and matriarch of a remarkable dynasty of professional musicians, Mrs. Pressley left a significant musical legacy upon her death March 5 at 90 from the effects of Alzheimer’s disease.

Born into a musical family in Pagosa Springs, Colo., in 1919, Mrs. Pressley began violin studies as a grade-schooler, and also became an accomplished pianist. She moved to Seattle in 1928 with her parents and her cellist sister Ruth, later graduating from Roosevelt High School and from the University of Washington. Shortly thereafter, at 22, she won a spot in the Seattle Symphony’s first violin section, where she remained for 43 years – playing under the legendary maestro Sir Thomas Beecham, among many other conductors.

Mrs. Pressley’s sister, Ruth Harris Grainger, was right behind her, becoming the orchestra’s youngest member when she joined the cello section. The two sisters were always close, ever since their girlhood when Maybeth used to draw paper dolls, while Ruth cut them out and colored them.

“Everyone loved Maybeth,” Mrs. Grainger remembers. “We were as different as could be – I wasn’t so serious. She was such a student!

“Often, when we were in the Symphony together, we’d share a cup of coffee during the breaks; she liked it hot, and I didn’t. Maybeth would drink half of the hot coffee, then hand the cup to me so I could drink the rest when it was cooler. We also loved playing chamber music and string quartets together.”

Mrs. Pressley married John Pressley, a tenor soloist, and the couple often sang and performed together. They had three children, all professional musicians: Margaret (violinist and founding director of the Seattle Conservatory of Music); Rick (Seattle Symphony trumpeter); and Pamela (flutist and former Seattle Symphony member). During the past 69 years, nine members of the extended family were in the Symphony.

Mrs. Pressley also drew attention for her considerable beauty. Once, when the legendary comedian/violinist Jack Benny was appearing with the Seattle Symphony, he grabbed the unsuspecting violinist during a curtain call, threw her into a tango back bend, and gave her a big kiss on the lips.

Fellow musicians remember Mrs. Pressley as a generous and convivial colleague. Seattle Symphony violinist Mariel Bailey, one of her frequent stand partners, calls her “the epitome of style and class, and as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.  I will always remember her for her dignity, musical integrity, and calm confidence. She was generous with compliments and encouragement.”

Mrs. Pressley inspired not only her children and grandchildren, but also students in the Seattle Conservatory of Music, of which she was a patron. Preceded in death by her husband in 2002, she is survived by her three children; grandchildren Rob and Erin Sokol, Sean, Ryan and Kailin Mooney, and Hannah Pressley; and great-grandchildren Elias and Annaliese Fricke and Spencer Sokol.

A memorial service will be held at 2 p.m. Saturday, April 24, at Greenlake United Methodist Church. Remembrances may be made to the Seattle Conservatory of Music, c/o 417 N. 50th St., Seattle, WA 98103.

March 11: Seattle Symphony Mainly Mozart program with guest conductor James Gaffigan and pianist Ingrid Fliter

By Melinda Bargreen

The latest arrival on the Seattle Symphony podium – James Gaffigan -- is a guest conductor who may or may not be a candidate to succeed Gerard Schwarz as music director next year. The Symphony administration is being rather coy about the search process, though we are given to understand that any guest maestro might be under consideration.

Given Gaffigan’s circumstances, it’s likely that he is a candidate; he is young (31 this year), has served in some good secondary posts (in San Francisco and Cleveland), and already has two jobs in Europe: chief conductor of the Lucerne Symphony, and principal guest conductor of the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic.

In his Seattle visit, Gaffigan made a good impression in a Mainly Mozart program that also had its problematic elements. “Mainly Mozart” does not equal “Minor Mendelssohn,” but that’s what opened the concert, in the form of the unevenly inspired Sinfonia No. 12 of the latter composer. It’s a youthful effort that cannot stand with the composer’s greater youthful works, despite some pretty moments in the middle movement and a vigorous approach from the podium.

The Haydn Piano Concerto in D Major is not a work pianists would commonly choose for a regional debut; a more obvious choice would be one of the big Romantic-era showpieces with lots of opportunities for emoting and displays of digital prowess. Kudos to Ingrid Fliter, a highly regarded Argentinean-born pianist who made the most of the Haydn’s opportunities in a performance that was both mercurial and highly musical. She coaxed a lot of drama from the score, drawing out the contrasts and emphasizing the playful side of the music – especially in the jet-propelled final movement.

Mozart fans had to wait for the last half of the concert to hear the eponymous composer. And here Gaffigan didn’t do himself any favors by providing a wholly unnecessary verbal introduction to two frequently-played classics, the familiar K.136 Divertimento and the popular Symphony No. 29 in A Major. Hearing that Mozart himself “would like trashy reality TV shows” and that phrases in the Divertimento “sound like my mother-in-law yelling at me” did not enhance the performance that followed. Gaffigan conducted with lots of energetic gestures and every evidence of enjoyment, and the orchestra was responsive to him, even when tempi were considerably more brisk than usual (as in the Andante movement of the symphony). Whether or not Mozart would have enjoyed trashy TV, his music can survive and flourish anew in all kinds of settings and approaches. The essential joy and optimism of the two works on this program shone through in these performances.

March 5: Seattle Symphony’s KING-FM Listener Choice Baroque Concerts

By Melinda Bargreen

Maybe they were worried about incurring overtime; maybe the Seattle Symphony’s guest conductor just likes a really fast tempo.

In any case, this weekend’s opening program of two baroque concerts led by British guest maestro Paul Goodwin zipped along as if jet-propelled. The playing was not always accurate, but it certainly was speedy. Faster is not always better, however, and the extreme acceleration of works such as Bach’s popular Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 sometimes gave the music a harried, aggressive character that probably wasn’t what the composer had in mind.

A regular guest with European orchestras and period ensembles, Goodwin is an expressive conductor whose gestures clearly indicate the punchy emphases and the shapes of phrases he wants from the music. On Friday evening, he was at his best in drawing stylish, varied phrasing from the musicians in Handel’s “Water Music” Suite No. 3, where smooth legato lines were set off by crisply accented contrasting phrases.

The soloist, flutist Alexander Lipay, is a young player who has studied with the Seattle Symphony’s Zartouhi Dombourian-Eby, and who is now principal flute of the Tucson Symphony Orchestra. He is a well-schooled flutist whose impressive technical skills were on display in the Mercadante Flute Concerto in E Minor. Lipay also sat in with the orchestra in the “Water Music” Suite. On the plus side were Lipay’s beautiful, fluid tone and excellent fingers; on the minus side were his visual concentration on the concerto score to the exclusion of any communication with the audience (at which he barely glanced), and his tendency to veer sharp in the Mercadante.

The opening work, Handel’s Concerto Grosso in B-Flat Major, got an energetic performance with some virtuoso turns by several of the orchestra’s featured players, including violinists Maria Larionoff and Elisa Barston, cellists Walter Gray and Rajan Krishnaswami, oboist Ben Hausmann and bassoonist Seth Krimsky.

The final work, Bach’s Orchestral Suite No. 3, lacked the grandeur and the sonic colors of the version most commonly performed today. Bach originally wrote this Suite for smaller-scale forces, but revised it later on, adding three trumpets, two oboes and timpani. It’s this revision that most music lovers – including the KING-FM listeners who chose the baroque favorites on this program – probably know best from many recordings and performances, so it was a bit of a letdown to miss the drums and the brass.

Goodwin, who continued his practice of fast tempi in the Bach Suite, relaxed enough to let the famous “Air” – that stately processional of countless weddings and ceremonies – provide a welcome contrast from the prevailing trend for speed. The entire program was a reminder of just why the Bach and Handel works are so beloved of classical fans: their endless fund of beautiful and inventive melody.

February 27: Seattle Opera’s “Falstaff”

By Melinda Bargreen

Verdi’s last opera, a jolly romp that dabbles in most of the Seven Deadly Sins, has always been a sort of lucky charm for local music lovers. Seattle Opera fans with long memories will remember the late, great Sir Geraint Evans in one of his final outings as Falstaff. No one who heard and saw the late, great Julian Patrick essaying the same role in Meany Theater will ever forget the experience.

And now, a terrific Seattle Opera ensemble cast does “Falstaff” in a stripped-down staging that seems to zip along at the speed of light. The newest Seattle version of this opera is a reworking of stage director Peter Kazaras’ production for the Seattle Opera Young Artists three years ago, and it’s a blessing for a budget-minded company in the grip of a recession. The sets (designed by Donald Eastman) are mostly suggestions, rather than depictions: collections of sawhorses, platforms, planks and chairs represent the Garter Inn, the Fords’ house, and the Windsor Forest. The wittiest set piece, a group of topsy-turvy ladder-back chairs that descend from the top of the stage, form the branches of the spooky oak tree that is central to the final scene.

All this action takes place in a “play within a play” format, where operagoers who arrive early can watch the singers donning period Elizabethan-style costumes and underpinnings onstage, as they laugh and joke and tweet and text. Once the opera starts, singers who don’t appear in a given scene will watch the action from platforms that look like bleachers, just as if everyone were watching a sporting event. In a way, this undercuts some of the impact of the drama, because we’re constantly reminded, “It’s not real life, but only a show.” But when you consider it, the whole subtext of “Falstaff” is that life is not to be taken too seriously.

In the title role, Peter Rose trod that delicate line between humor and buffoonery, displaying brilliant comic timing and an impressive voice that doesn’t merely bark out Falstaff’s lines, but also displays remarkable strength at both ends of the vocal spectrum. Rose can do more with a brief gesture or a slight pause than most singers can, and the finesse of his Falstaff is memorable on every level.

Any production that boasts Stephanie Blythe in the cast is a production well worth a day’s travel. As Dame Quickly, the mastermind of several comeuppances, Blythe proved again that she’s an adroit comedienne as well as a singer whose opening lines always make audiences sit bolt upright in their seats and suddenly inhale as if the air had changed. What a voice! It just gets better, year by year.

Two singers from the 2007 Seattle Opera Young Artists “Falstaff” were on hand here for their mainstage debuts in their respective roles: Anya Matanovic as the lovelorn ingénue Nannetta, and Sasha Cooke as Meg Page, one of the objects of Falstaff’s cynical affections. Both were excellent; Matanovic made the most of her lyrical opportunities, and she was well matched by Macedonian tenor Blagoj Nacoski as an ardent Fenton. Svetla Vassileva was a remarkably good Alice Ford; the two rogues, Bardolph (Steven Goldstein) and Pistol (Ashraf Sewailam), proved highly active (sometimes even gymnastic) singing actors.

In the orchestra pit, conductor Riccardo Frizza had his hands full with the tricky, fast-paced ensemble scenes, some of which did not quite gel on opening night (expect this situation to get better as the run goes forward). Sometimes the orchestra’s own sections were out of sync -– never mind the singers. Maybe a slight reduction in tempo might have made some of the early ensembles a little clearer and more accurate, and less harried. In any case, it’s clear that the action in the orchestra pit never gets bogged down. Balances among the soloists and orchestra also were generally good.

Connie Yun’s lighting designs were sometimes a little abrupt: sudden bright-red backgrounds for the aria in which Ford (the excellent Weston Hurt) expresses his jealousy, and then just as quickly a return to peachy hues.

Kazaras kept the action going, stressing the humor but never making it foolishly slapstick. He has a great sense of balance, knowing when to bring forward a voice (or a character) and when to let it recede. This “Falstaff,” I think, represents his best staging work thus far in Seattle, and the roars of the appreciative opening-night audience indicated that this is far from a minority opinion.

February 5: Seattle Symphony with violinist James Ehnes and conductor Gerard Schwarz

Review: The Seattle Symphony Orchestra with violinist James Ehnes; Gerard Schwarz, conductor. Benaroya Hall, Feb. 5, 2010.

By Melinda Bargreen

When a work by a well-known composer is seldom performed, there’s often a good reason why: it doesn’t have much musical merit.

But that’s not always the case. In the most recent Seattle Symphony subscription program, two obscure works by Ferruccio Busoni and Richard Strauss joined a repertoire classic, Schumann’s “Rhenish” Symphony (No. 3) for a concert in which the Strauss Violin Concerto was the most pleasant surprise. In the able hands of soloist James Ehnes, whose Seattle performances have always been something special, Strauss’ youthful concerto blossomed into something quite remarkable.

Strauss produced the concerto at 17, the same age as the Seattle Symphony’s new and extremely gifted Assistant to Guest Conductors, Alexander Prior. The concerto gives only hints of what Strauss went on to achieve in his maturity, and there are occasional lapses of inspiration and over-scoring (orchestral textures often are far too thick to accompany a violin soloist).

But one suspects Ehnes could make poetry out of considerably less promising material. His noble tone, interpretive finesse, and fabulous fingers polished up this rough gem. Ehnes poured on the beautifully shaped tone in the lyrical second movement, and tossed off the technical challenges of the finale, including immaculate double stops and exquisite bow control (the bow returns were almost imperceptible, even on an open string).

Conductor Gerard Schwarz restrained the orchestra – usually successfully – enough to allow the soloist to be heard, and gave full rein to Ehnes’ lyrical impulses. Orchestra insiders say the collaboration originally was planned to include a recording of the concerto; tight finances have reportedly dimmed that prospect. It’s too bad, because the Strauss Concerto is unlikely to find an interpreter to equal Ehnes.

The evening’s opener, Busoni’s Suite from “Turandot,” is also seldom programmed; it’s a picturesque, colorful work with lots of flash and not a great deal of substance. The winds in particular were given quite a workout in this incidental music, originally composed to accompany the drama by Carlo Gozzi. (That play was the basis of Puccini’s later opera, “Turandot,” as well as an opera of the same title by Busoni.)

The evening’s main event was the Schumann symphony, in which the playing of principal horn John Cerminaro seemed to revitalize the whole section to a more inspired level than in the first half (when Cerminaro did not play). It seems strange to say that a major repertoire piece like the “Rhenish” Symphony sounded underrehearsed – heaven knows how many times the players have performed this one – but there were indeed several sections in which the orchestra sounded insufficiently prepared. Brisk, scurrying passages found the string ensemble sounding ragged (especially in the Scherzo movement). Schwarz drew some excellent playing from the brass section in the stately Feierlich movement.

This is certainly violin season at the Seattle Symphony, with the recent performances by Itzhak Perlman and James Ehnes followed in short order by the superbly gifted Stefan Jackiw – due in town Feb. 11-13 for the Barber Concerto with Gerard Schwarz. Joshua Bell arrives on the 22nd for a recital with another Seattle favorite, pianist Jeremy Denk. And the orchestra’s excellent principal second violinist, Elisa Barston, is on tap at the end of the month for performances of Mozart’s “Turkish” Violin Concerto. Fiddle fans are definitely in luck.

January 20: Seattle Opera’s “Il Trovatore”

By Melinda Bargreen

It takes a brave opera company to produce “Il Trovatore” these days, because the opera requires not only four heroic singers but also a stage director prepared to take on Verdi’s much-lampooned plot. After a 13-year hiatus since its last “Trovatore,” however, Seattle Opera has assembled a production that may not go down in history as the best show of 2009-10, but is nonetheless artistically satisfying and consistently entertaining.

With a rather spare set (from the Minnesota Opera), stage director José María Condemi was able to use his imagination in creating a detailed, motivated concept that made particularly effective use of the crowd scenes in the opening act and in the famous Anvil Chorus. There was much that was conventionally staged, to be sure, partly because it’s not possible to do much else with some of Verdi’s set pieces. But despite some of the ludicrous requirements of the action, which leaps from improbable scene to scene, Condemi gives the singers plenty of opportunities for emotionally resonant performances.

To the usual quartet of soprano (Lisa Daltirus), mezzo-soprano (Malgorzata Walewska), tenor (Antonello Palombi) and baritone (Gordon Hawkins), we must add the excellent bass of Arthur Woodley, whose Ferrando grabbed the audience’s and cast’s attention in the opening scene and added moral authority to a later confrontation. Among the four principals, though, it was Daltirus as Leonora that made the strongest impression. She may not be at her very best while negotiating a high D-flat, but Daltirus unquestionably has the right stuff for Leonora: the right vocal color, agility, passion, and the ability to float an sustain her high notes in the beautiful arias Verdi lavished on this character. (In the performance I heard, there were, however, some intonation issues, as Daltirus veered sharp on several occasions in the upper register.)

As the heroic Manrico, Palombi poured on the tenorial power in singing that was frequently of the “can belto” school. He has the high notes for the role, and while those Cs did not always sound comfortable, they were unquestionably there and were often thrilling. Palombi, who appears to have studied acting at the “Ivan the Terrible, Parts I and II” School, often underscored the melodrama of this opera, but his was far from a monochromatic performance. The passages in which he tempered down that voice – in the scene in which he and Leonora declare their love before their aborted wedding, for example – were arrestingly beautiful.

Hawkins, in the thankless role of the baritone whom the heroine spurns, was nonetheless sympathetic both vocally and dramatically. His “Il balen” was beautifully and artistically done.

As the vengeful Azucena, Walewska bypassed a lot of the stock clichés and went for something considerably more interesting than the usual crone. She has vocal goods galore: strong and powerful low tones, a surprisingly vivid top, great control and evenness throughout her register, and sufficient daring to take artistic and vocal chances. Hers was a fully realized, all-stops-out performance.

Top marks, as well, to two minor roles, very well taken by Vira Slywotzky (as Inez) and Leodigario Rosario (as Ruiz).

In the orchestra pit, Yves Abel brought out the drama of the surging score and kept a strong sense of forward propulsion without ever pushing the singers too hard. He is an adept accompanist, knowing just how long a given singer is able to hold a given note (or when the singer is likely to run out of breath). The crowd scenes worked well musically, too, a credit not only to Abel but also to the excellent training of chorusmaster Beth Kirchhoff, who deserves a round of cheers.

January 7: The Seattle Symphony Orchestra with Kurt Masur, guest conductor.

By Melinda Bargreen

No score; no stick; no fuss.

The Seattle Symphony’s current guest maestro, the venerable Kurt Masur, didn’t need a baton to make his point in a program of two great Austrian works – cornerstones of the middle European tradition in which Masur has made his mightiest mark. It would be hard to guess how many times the 82-year-old conductor, best known for his tenures with the New York Philharmonic and Orchestre National de France, has led performances of Mozart’s noble Symphony No. 40 and Bruckner’s magisterial Symphony No. 4.

Whatever that total, Masur certainly knows how to get the very best out of the Seattle Symphony Orchestra with this repertoire. In the opening concert of the series, he had the players thoroughly engaged in nearly every phrase, playing together in a manner that proved they were really listening and responding to each other.

This clearly is a conductor with the score in his head, and not his head in the score, as the saying goes. You don’t look to Masur for podium grandstanding or elegant gestures; his directions to the players involved a lot of choppy lateral motions with alternating hands, rather than eloquent technique or podium choreography. No matter: whatever he’s doing, it certainly is effective. His performance suggested that all the work had been done in rehearsal (the ideal scenario), and Masur’s actions on the podium were intended only to remind the players of what they already knew.

The strings in particular shone in this approach, with some of the finest SSO viola section playing ever in the Bruckner, and a wonderfully solid sound from the violins throughout the program (Masur seated the first and second violin sections side by side). In the Mozart, that lovely gem of his next-to-last symphony, the playing was remarkably unified and beautifully shaped; nothing sounded forced, and everything seemed simple and straightforward. Long, lovely phrases were extended to their full length, given their full due.

The Bruckner Fourth, long and episodic and mighty, almost amounts to a horn concerto in many sections for the frequency and importance of its horn solos. Principal horn John Cerminaro gave a miraculous performance, mustering an array of sound that ranged from the exquisite soft-focus opening to the ringing horn calls later on. Masur built some masterly crescendos that gradually gathered force into a veritable tsunami of solid sound.

Not even Masur could get the orchestra perfectly in tune, particularly not in the trumpet section, and there were a few bars that everyone probably would wish to do over. (They’ll have two chances to do so, with additional performances Jan. 8 and 9.) But it’s foolish to complain when so much was so good. What a pleasure to hear great repertoire performed at this level.

And now, a look back at the classical follies of 2009!

By Melinda Bargreen

As 2009 slips away, it’s once again time for . . . the Classical Music Believe It or Not! And while the calendar marches toward 2010, may you enjoy the follies of the past year, with tidbits gleaned from actual news items, just as much as we’ve enjoyed collecting them for you. Here goes:

-- The classical brothel: In order to “bring classical music out of the concert hall and to where people are,” the German ensemble Forum for Contemporary Music decided to present “licentious and erotic works” for visitors and employees at the Eros Center in Leipzig (former city of J.S. Bach, who was not known to visit the Eros Center. He did, however, have 20 children). Among their musical offerings: Erik Satie’s “Le Flirt” and Dirk Dase’s “Seven Erotic Songs.”

-- Love on the rocks: The famous operatic “love couple,” tenor Roberto Alagna and soprano Angela Gheorghiu, are finally headed for the divorce court after keeping the European tabloids and blogs buzzing with inflammatory statements (“Ms. Gheorghiu understands that Mr. Alagna is bitter about this situation … Men can’t stand a successful woman”). The couple’s often-capricious behavior has led to a wealth of nicknames in the opera community, from “Bonnie and Clyde” to “Draculette” (a reference to Gheorghiu’s Romanian roots).

-- Leaping from the stage: It’s been quite a year for spectacular stage accidents. Conductor David Ott survived a 14-foot fall at the University of West Florida in September, returning to the orchestra pit after a performance when the lights were off and plummeting into the basement below the pit. He miraculously avoided serious injuries. Earlier, soprano Ana Maria Martinez fell headfirst into the orchestra pit during a performance of “Rusalka” at Britain’s illustrious Glyndebourne Opera, landing on a luckless cellist. Martinez also suffered no ill effects. Less fortunate, however, was mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato, whose tumble at London’s Royal Opera House during “The Barber of Seville” ended in a broken fibula. She gamely carried on to finish the performance, later continuing in a wheelchair and cast for the remaining shows.

-- An opera about … Sarah Palin? – The much-parodied voice of Sarah Palin has inspired composer Curtis Hughes to write an opera (“Say It Ain’t So, Joe”), for the Boston-based Guerilla Opera. Based on “the exact pitches that were spoken” during the Palin-Biden debates in last year’s Presidential campaign, the opera also features Joe the Plumber, for whom Hughes says his “word-painting tends to get a little more crass.” Hughes told one interviewer, “One of [Palin’s] arias concludes with her informing the audience, ‘I am your future.’ I’d like to think that the music at this moment could be understood as either ominous or joyful, or perhaps both.” Perhaps.

On the other side of the Atlantic, the Queen’s composer, Sir Peter Maxwell Davies, is writing a comic opera about the disclosures in The Daily Telegraph about rampant excesses in the political expenses system. Maxwell Davies said he might invite some Members of Parliament to the premiere: “They will of course want free tickets, but be able to claim them on expenses for some fictitious fee. These people are a public disgrace and deserve to be publicly disgraced on stage.” Hello, Sir Peter: we need you over here, too, to lambast all those corporate bonuses and golden parachutes and subprime lenders.

“Twitterdammerung”: Yes, it’s billed as “the first Twitter opera,” premiered in September at London’s Royal Opera House, based on some 900 tweets and predictably panned as “a cheap gimmick” – though one reviewer cited “humour by the bucket load.” One can only imagine.

We can hardly wait: China is planning a new opera version of Marx’s 1,000-page “Das Kapital,” with an economist overseeing the project to “ensure that it remains intellectually respectful of Marxist doctrine.” Count us in for opening night!

Oh, those competitions: The decision of the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition judges to split first prize between Chinese teenager Haochen Zhang and blind Japanese pianist Nobuyuki Tsujii has ignited considerable controversy worldwide. A Wall Street Journal story bore the headline “What was the jury thinking?”

Singing to the cows: Italian tenor Marcello Bedoni has been singing operatic selections to cows in Lancashire, England, on the theory that “soothing sounds or music can reduce stress” (according to the National Farmers’ Union). Bedoni calls the cows “a great audience.” Presumably they remember to shut off their cell phones beforehand.

Another violin left in the cab: Psychologists might have a field day with the long list of major musicians who have left ultra-valuable instruments behind in taxicabs. To that list we now add New York Philharmonic concertmaster Glenn Dicterow, who left the orchestra’s 1727 Guarneri del Gesù violin in a New York taxi last February. The cabbie quickly arranged for the violin’s return. Not to be outdone, South Korean-born virtuoso Hahn-Bin left his 18th-century Giovanni Francesco Pressenda violin in a Manhattan yellow cab following an August performance. Fortunately, the cab had a GPS tracker, and the instrument returned to Hahn-Bin, who cried, “My baby!”

The baritone forgets … his pants? – Yes, noted baritone Bryn Terfel set out for the concert hall from his Seoul hotel wearing a pair of shorts, but forgetting to pack his concert trousers for the evening’s performance last April. Arriving with just minutes to spare, and with no time to return to the hotel for his clothes, Terfel was saved by a speedy loan from a South Korean opera lover the same size as the 6’4” singer. Sort of gives a new meaning to the phrase, “Flying by the seat of one’s pants.”

The curse of the Ring: The Metropolitan Opera had its hands full this past spring with Wagner’s four-opera epic, “The Ring of the Nibelung,” when the company had to find three substitute singers for the key role of Brünnhilde. They also needed last-minute replacements for four other important roles, as well as a last-minute conductor when James Levine got sick.

Los Angeles also experienced unpleasant Ringing sensations, when the 2 million production suffered a computer glitch, causing a malfunction in the Nibelungs’ cavern. And at Seattle Opera’s “Ring,” another computer problem twice delayed the start of scenes in the finale, “Götterdämmerung.” Opera fans were heard to utter “Götterdämmerit.”

Department of operatic excesses: A Berlin production of Gluck’s “Armida” in April featured scenes of bondage, rape, simulated sex, murder, a live python and several naked bodybuilders. Meanwhile, over in Cologne, a third of the cast walked out of rehearsals for a violent staging of “Samson and Delilah,” reportedly claiming that “the scenes of rape and massacre [were] making them sick.” The Berlin patrons, accustomed to the outré, responded with “polite applause,” according to press reports, but in Cologne many ticketholders wanted their money back.

Watch those batons: A 17-year-old California girl used her marching band baton to beat off two muggers who grabbed her coat and demanded money several months ago. She punched one in the nose, kicked the other in the groin, and beat them both with her band baton before running away. You don’t mess with the marching band.

Really Terrible Orchestra: You don’t mess with the Really Terrible Orchestra, either, without incurring the wrath of founder (and novelist) Alexander McCall Smith. The Edinburgh-based orchestra, founded in 1995 and billed as the world’s worst, has trademarked its name to fend off attempts by rival tribute orchestras to cash in on its reputation. The RTO claims its success is due to short performances and free wine for listeners. McCall Smith says, “It does not matter that on more than one occasion members of the orchestra have been discovered to be playing different pieces of music by different composers, at the same time. We are The Really Terrible Orchestra and we shall go on and on.”

Roll on, Beethoven: A Caltech computer systems grad student named Virgil Griffith has used Facebook data to measure the musicians most often listed as a user’s “favorite music” against the average SAT score for the school the user attended. At the top: Beethoven (average SAT score 1371, out of a possible 1600); at the bottom: Lil Wayne (889). Don’t tell us you’re surprised.

The hazards of teaching: Last February, a 13-year-old Italian schoolboy stabbed his violin teacher with a kitchen knife during a lesson at a middle school near Venice, leaving the knife embedded in the teacher’s back when he ran away after the attack. Music teachers, it may be time for those Kevlar vests.