2019 CONCERT AND BOOK REVIEWS
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra; Thomas Dausgaard conducting Stravinsky and Scriabin. Benaroya Hall, Nov. 21 and 23 Thursday, 2019.
By Melinda Bargreen
“The Rite of Spring” provoked a famous riot at the premiere in 1913 – but 106 years later, Stravinsky’s iconic score drew riotous applause at the Seattle Symphony. The applause on Thursday evening was not only for the exemplary performance, but also for the extraordinary presentation that preceded it: a revelation of the folk melodies and motifs that Stravinsky incorporated into his groundbreaking work.
Music director Thomas Dausgaard is a conductor who is always driven to look beyond the score to discover what inspired it. In this case, Stravinsky’s influences were Russian folk tunes and motifs, revealed here in a beautiful and effective presentation that was almost like a musical pageant. Juliana and PAVA, performers of traditional vocal and instrumental Russian music, processed in brilliantly colorful folk attire down the Benaroya Hall aisles to the stage, taking up positions with their folk instruments (including hurdy-gurdy, balalaika, horns and pipes, among others).
They played and sang ancient Russian folk motifs, followed immediately by the Dausgaard and the orchestra performing Stravinsky’s version of the same motifs in excerpts from the “Rite of Spring” score. The transitions were almost seamless, and the original folk tunes were compellingly sung. Suddenly the “Rite” took on another layer of significance: not just amazing and challenging music, but also a work deeply connected to the music of historic Russia. Not surprisingly, this presentation got an enthusiastic standing ovation.
After intermission, Dausgaard and the orchestra performed the full “Rite of Spring” score, 32 minutes of swirling tension and drama and virtuoso playing (starting right off with Seth Krimsky’s subtle, sinuous bassoon solo). Dausgaard announced from the stage that this was the first time the 1920 version of the score was performed in Seattle. It was a high-intensity event, driven by Dausgaard’s precise, dramatic, and communicative conducting. And for this audience, the performance took on more power as the listeners heard again those folk motifs woven into Stravinsky’s score.
Seldom does a work offer so many opportunities to hear important solos from principal players, particularly the woodwinds, who rose admirably to the occasion.
The program’s opener, Scriabin’s colorful “The Poem of Ecstasy,” would have been the centerpiece of most concerts, were it not upstaged here by the “Rite of Spring.” Dausgaard led a questing, searching performance of the kaleidoscopic Scriabin score, bringing to life its twists and turns with the grand finale underscored by the mighty Watjen Concert Organ (played by Joseph Adam). David Gordon’s trumpet solos were particularly commendable.
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Nathalie Stutzmann, conductor, and Augustin Hadelich, violin soloist; Benaroya Hall, Oct. 31 2019.
By Melinda Bargreen
Halloween is famous for tricks and treats, but inside Benaroya Hall there were only treats on Thursday night. A sizable contingent of music lovers decided to bypass Halloween candy and costumes in favor of an evening at the Seattle Symphony.
Good choice.
The superb violinist Augustin Hadelich, for several years a favorite with Seattle classical fans, gave a performance of the Brahms Violin Concerto that will linger long in the memory. He played the well-worn concerto as if it had been freshly invented: all flowing lines and an effortless lyricism, nailing each pitch dead center, and creating a succession of breathtaking little expressive moments. A few of these: that exquisite tiny pause just before the first appearance of the first-movement melody; and the unbelievable technical finesse of the cadenza -- which Hadelich wrote.
But the whole performance was full of such moments, as Hadelich soared through the music with the expertly attentive support and partnership of guest conductor Nathalie Stutzmann. He played with his trademark rich, full tone and uncanny accuracy, as well as an obvious enjoyment of the music. The ending of the Brahms first movement was so beautiful that many in the audience forgot the usual protocols and applauded vigorously.
At the concerto’s breathtaking conclusion, the audience’s standing ovation and sustained cheering brought a remarkably delicate encore, in which the violin uncannily imitates the sound of the guitar: Tarrega’s “Recuerdos de la Alhambra” (arranged by Ruggiero Ricci). Another standing ovation brought Hadelich back to the stage for a bow, but no further encores -- in the tradition of the dictum attributed to P.T. Barnum: “Always leave them wanting more.”
The concerto was placed between an attractive opener (three movements from Berlioz’s “La damnation de Faust”) and Brahms’ lusciously romantic Symphony No. 2. Stutzmann conducted throughout with a sense of lyricism and drama that remind the listener of her other career (she’s a well-known singer, a contralto). Stutzmann, who holds orchestral posts in Ireland and Norway, proved an attentive and expressive conductor. Her clarity of gesture, her careful cueing and close communication with the players, all contribute to a clear vision of the music and an ability to make her interpretation happen. The Brahms performance had lots of expressive details and dynamic contrasts, as well as the surging romanticism that infuses this score. Many principal players rose to the occasion with beautiful and compelling solo work.
One chance remains to hear this program: Saturday at 8 p.m. Don’t miss out.
Seattle Opera presents Rossini’s “Cinderella,” with staging by Lindy Hume, and Gary Thor Wedow, conductor; Saturday and Sunday, Oct. 19 and 20, through Nov. 1.
By Melinda Bargreen
Two exciting casts, a solid score, and staging as speedy as a runaway train: Seattle Opera audiences had a rollicking good time this past weekend with Rossini’s “Cinderella.”
Those who have already seen Australian stage director Lindy Hume’s work (beginning here with an uproarious “Count d’Ory” back in 2016) know to expect an almost frenetically energetic show, with the principals and chorus constantly engaged in all sorts of creative stage business. There’s even a production number featuring synchronized umbrellas. And the “Cinderella” conductor, Gary Thor Wedow, is a solid pro whose pacing and musical instincts are always right on target. The stage is literally set, then, for a show of considerable impact, provided the singers are up to snuff.
And these singers unquestionably are. On opening night, the stage was appropriately stolen by the title character, Ginger Costa-Jackson, whose warm and agile mezzo-soprano is an ideal fit for this role. Rossini’s coloratura flourishes and speedy passagework pose no problems for Costa-Jackson, whose voice flows easily from the lower register to well above the staff, without any awkward transitions. She is an appealing actress, lovely to watch, and she riveted Saturday’s opening-night audience from start to finish.
Her prince, Michele Angelini, is a bright and agile tenor with more high Cs than a pirate movie, and he was an ardent, engaging suitor for this Cinderella. His upper range, extending even beyond the high Cs, overlapped the mezzo-soprano register to beautiful effect in their duets. This prince and servant girl made a convincing couple, both musically and dramatically.
Baritone Joo Won Kang had a great time as the Prince’s suave servant, Dandini, who trades places with his master to reveal whether the Prince is loved for himself or merely for his royal status. (The former, of course.)
On Sunday, three new singers took over the principal roles. Wallis Giunta sang Cinderella with a beautiful and subtle tone production that seemed to grow in strength to the final scene, which shone with her brilliant passagework and confident high notes. Her prince, Matthew Grills, provided a well-nuanced tenor and a savvy stage sense; his scenes with Cinderella were tender and sensitive enough to make one believe in their “love at first sight.” Baritone Jonathan Michie was an effective and highly active Dandini.
And there was more good news from the supporting cast: the warmth and dignity of baritone Adam Lau as the wise tutor, Alidoro, a pivotal figure in this show. The uproariously funny father, Don Magnifico, is portrayed with all of his character faults by bass-baritone Péter Kálmán, a rousing good singer with great comic instincts.
Here’s where the cast gets interesting: Ginger Costa-Jackson, the opening-night Cinderella, has two singing sisters in real life – Miriam and Marina, both of them sopranos. In this production, Miriam portrays one of the highly active and wicked stepsisters, Clorinda, who joins with the other stepsister, Tisbe (sung by Maya Gour), in frantically chasing the Prince and giving Cinderella a hard time.
All three Costa-Jackson sisters (including Marina, also a soprano) will be onstage together soon for a “Three Singing Sisters” concert (7:30 p.m. Nov. 2, McCaw Hall).
The “Cinderella” production is set not in fairy-tale mythological time, but in London during the mid-19th century, as we are reminded by the frequent flourishing of Union Jacks. The charming and imaginative Dan Potra set, featuring a multifaceted emporium owned by Cinderella’s father Don Magnifico, opens and closes and moves to suit the action. And there is action aplenty, including John Keene’s busy all-male chorus – some of whom are dressed as buxom, bearded servant women, to great comic effect.
Finally, bravo to Seattle Opera’s indispensable Jonathan Dean, who translates and writes the supertitles projected above the stage, for having one of the wheedling stepsisters calling her prey “Princykins.” It brought down the house.
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Thomas Dausgaard conducting, and Lang Lang, piano soloist; Benaroya Hall, Oct. 8, 2019.
By Melinda Bargreen
The crowds poured into Benaroya Hall on Wednesday evening to hear Lang Lang, possibly the most famous pianist on the planet, wow them with his fabulous technique.
What they heard was a keyboard artist whose technique is only one of the many weapons in his arsenal. Once dubbed “Bang Bang” because of his youthful propensity for fast, loud, and flashy, Lang Lang (now 37) gave his Seattle Symphony audience a Beethoven Piano Concerto No. 2 of exquisite refinement and remarkable nuance. Certainly the technique was there, in the incredible ease of his passagework and the sheer brilliance of his first-movement cadenza, but so were the pianist’s mastery of amazing subtleties and his control of dynamics.
Lang Lang held his audience in rapt silence as he spun out lines of such crystalline delicacy that the end of the second (Adagio) movement seemed to vanish into the air. This is a pianist who is fun to watch: in portions of the concerto scored for the right hand alone, Lang Lang used his expressive left hand to almost conduct himself as he played.
Music director Thomas Dausgaard gave the soloist the kind of line-by-line, note-by-note attention that supported him without ever overwhelming. Frequently turning to the pianist to observe every nuance, he matched Lang Lang pianissimo for pianissimo, and rose with him to the more rollicking passages of the finale.
The ovation that followed the concerto was rewarded by a single encore: Lang Lang returned to the stage for a speedy, fluent account of Mendelssohn’s “Spinning Song” (from the “Songs without Words,” Op. 67, No. 4).
Dausgaard opened the concert with a few well-chosen observations about the program, which began with a brief but charming Sibelius “Andante festivo.” In his remarks, the conductor reminded the audience that the 18-year-old Beethoven was at work on the concerto during 1788, the same year that the 32-year-old Mozart was writing his last and grandest symphony, the great “Jupiter” Symphony. What a fountain of musical ideas Mozart poured into that music! Dausgaard urged the orchestra to go deeply into the expressive phrases of the symphony’s second movement, bringing forth the light precision of the third and the majesty of the finale.
Interview: Garrick Ohlsson opens the President’s Piano Series; 7:30 p.m. Oct. 1; Katharyn Alvord Gerlich Theater at Meany Hall, University of Washington.
By Melinda Bargreen
The opening of the President’s Piano Series is always a big event for keyboard fans – particularly when local favorite Garrick Ohlsson is back in town. An international star, Ohlsson has enjoyed playing the former Meany Theater (now renamed the Katharyn Alvord Gerlich Theater) ever since he arrived there in 1982 for a recital with violinist Miriam Fried.
“I walked into the hall to try out the piano,” Ohlsson remembers, “and when I heard the sound, I said: ‘Oh, hello!’ I just fell for the hall. It’s so acoustically satisfying – really perfect, with great sound. It’s intimate, but so resonant and clear.”
He’s “enough of an old-timer” by his own estimation (born in 1948) that Ohlsson remembers playing recitals here in the old Seattle Center Playhouse (now Cornish Playhouse) and the Seattle Opera House (now Marion Oliver McCaw Hall). He tactfully calls those earlier halls “not ideal – but I love Meany and the audiences. I’ve been here so much; it feels so familiar, and it’s always one of the most special halls to me.”
This season, Ohlsson is concentrating on the music of Brahms (several other recitals will feature Brahms’ complete solo works for piano), as well as Chopin, where he has long been an undisputed master. That’s not surprising, since Ohlsson’s career was launched with a 1970 win at the International Frederic Chopin Piano Competition – the first and only American to win this prestigious prize. (He also won the firsts at Italy’s Busoni Competition and the Montreal Piano Competition, as well as the 1994 Avery Fisher Prize.)
“Brahms didn’t leave behind many pieces that weren’t absolutely Grade A,” Ohlsson observes. In Seattle he’ll play Brahms’ two Rhapsodies of Op. 79, and the seven “Fantasien” of Op. 116, as well as the “Variations on a Theme of Paganini.” The Chopin works on the program include the Nocturne in B-flat Minor (Op. 9, No. 1), and the big Sonata No. 3 in B Minor of Op. 58.
“Chopin has been with me my whole career,” Ohlsson muses, “and it’s one of my greatest pleasures, returning again and again to this music and seeing things in a new way. Inevitably I see things like tempo and character and thematic relationships differently. You plan it all quite specifically, but everything in a recital happens in the moment.
“The pianist is three people at once: you plan what you want to happen in a given piece, and you listen to what you’re actually doing – ‘Oops, I got going too fast here, and I’ll be in trouble a few minutes down the road.’ And then you’re the listener: you have to engage your sixth sense, imagining what the public is hearing. You also play for yourself.”
And, of course, for audiences around the world. This past August, Ohlsson went on tour with the National Youth Orchestra of China, led by a conductor very familiar to Seattle: Ludovic Morlot, who recently stepped down as the Seattle Symphony’s music director.
“I like him very much,” Ohlsson says of Morlot. “He is marvelous as a musician and a human being, and he was brilliant at overcoming the shyness of the young principal players and developing a rapport with them.”
Ohlsson, who is famous for his distinctively lush, powerful sonority as well as the subtleties he coaxes from the keyboard, says that he greatly enjoyed rehearsing with the young Chinese musicians. He asked them to “listen to how I do it” at the piano, and watched the shock of recognition as the youngsters realized how well his advice worked for them. Ohlsson, who played Beethoven’s famous “Emperor” Concerto on the tour, jokes about following the advice of legendary conductor Bruno Walter: “I smile – but I insist.” The young players were “so eager, focused, and concentrated” during the challenging tour, which began in Shanghai and went on to Germany, England, and Italy.
“They were very quick to learn, and they treated me with that respect that they give to the not-so-young,” Ohlsson muses.
“I had to tell them: I’m just playing the ‘Emperor,’ I’m not really the Emperor!”
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra, with Thomas Dausgaard, conductor, and Yefim Bronfman, piano soloist; Benaroya Hall, Sept. 19-21, 2019.
By Melinda Bargreen
Two towering masterpieces; a stage full of musicians on their mettle; an amazing piano soloist, and an inspiring conductor. The cheers rang out long and loudly for the first subscription concert of the Seattle Symphony’s Thomas Dausgaard era on Thursday evening.
The program’s two major works were composed in the same decade (the 1880s), and though they share a certain similarity of tonality and musical gesture, they are surprisingly different from each other. The Brahms Piano Concerto No. 2 pushes the envelope of that medium – four movements instead of the usual three, and a wider than usual emotional range. The Mahler Symphony No. 1 is on an even grander scale: a vision of life and death, with musical representations of burgeoning springtime, a peasant dance, a funeral march, and a triumphant finale that sounds like an ascent into the pearly gates.
The evening’s piano soloist, Yefim Bronfman, took the stage after a sassy little orchestral hors d’oeuvre: the hyperactive “Flounce,” a five-minute curtain raiser by the Finnish composer Lotta Wennäkoski.
Now 61, Bronfman is famous not only for his spectacular technique but also for the depth of his interpretations, and both these factors were in evidence during the Brahms. The grandeur and power of this concerto were fully realized, yet Bronfman also drew back for lyrical, sensitive playing: delicate, quicksilver arpeggios, as well as keyboard thunder and lightning.
Closely attuned to his soloist, Dausgaard turned frequently on the podium to watch Bronfman and to fine-tune details of their ensemble. The concerto offers a great third-movement cello solo, and the orchestra’s principal, Efe Baltacigil, stepped forward with a beautifully judged performance. The ending of the concerto can sound a bit perfunctory, as if Brahms suddenly figured it had gone on long enough, but this performance was measured and unhurried.
The applause was so lengthy and so thunderous, and Bronfman and Dausgaard were recalled to the stage so many times, that it was a little surprising that the pianist didn’t play an encore. (Perhaps the length of the concert was a consideration.)
For this program, Dausgaard rearranged the orchestra’s usual configuration, with the second violins trading places with the cellos. Placing the first and second violin sections at opposite sides of the stage is advantageous in some repertoire, but here the result sometimes seemed to make the cellos a little harder to hear. In the Mahler, though, the sheer numbers on the stage ensured that every section could be heard: there were extra players galore, an enormous phalanx of French horns and brass, and even two piccolos.
As the first movement of the Mahler unfolded, Dausgaard made the silences just as important as the sounds, drawing the listeners in as the music slowly awakened and blossomed into the thrilling brass fanfares and the full range of orchestral colors. The enormous variety of Mahler’s scoring came vividly to life in passages full of both snarling energy and radiant lyricism.
For the conclusion of the exuberant finale, Dausgaard had the oversized French horn section stand, their sound lifting above the orchestra and straight into the house, where you can bet no one was snoozing. But it didn’t take extra volume to keep this audience involved; all that was needed was a terrific conductor and the orchestra that outplayed itself for him.
Fortunately, this concert will live on, in more ways than one: two more live performances, a KING FM 98.1 rebroadcast at 9 p.m. Oct. 4, and the Mahler portion of the concert now posted on YouTube (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87JiXIagsa8
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra Opening Night, Thomas Dausgaard conducting, Daniil Trifonov, piano soloist; Benaroya Hall, Seattle, Sept. 14, 2019.
By Melinda Bargreen
The Seattle Symphony’s annual opening-night concert is always a special occasion, but Saturday evening’s opener was particularly significant: the inaugural concert of the Thomas Dausgaard era. The dynamic and affable Danish maestro, who has succeeded Ludovic Morlot as the orchestra’s music director, commanded the rapt attention of both the musicians and the audience in a program launched by a high-powered “Star-Spangled Banner” (with plenty of audience participation).
The program itself began and ended with short pieces by Danish composers: Carl Nielsen’s festive “Maskarade” Overture and Hans Christian Lumbye’s lively “Champagne Galop.” In between came two works on a grander scale: Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No. 4 (with soloist Daniil Trifonov), and Richard Strauss’ mighty orchestral tone poem “Also Sprach Zarathustra.”
Trifonov, who has won several of the piano world’s biggest prizes (including the Rubinstein and Tchaikovsky Competitions), was recently accorded Musical America’s 2019 Artist of the Year award, and was called “the most astounding young pianist of our age” by “The Times” of London. In Seattle, he fully justified those accolades. The Rachmaninov Fourth is not an easy sell; it’s the Second and the Third that thrill more audiences, with their straightforward romanticism and soaring melodies. Trifonov’s performance of the Fourth was a real mind-changer: subtle, fluid, brilliantly executed and technically stunning, while Dausgaard leaned toward the keyboard to support and respond to every nuance. No soloist could ask for a more attentive conductor.
A rousing ovation brought Trifonov back to the stage for a remarkable encore: his own glistening transcription for solo piano of Rachmaninov’s “Silver Bells” (from the orchestral work “The Bells,” Op. 35).
The iconic opening of Richard Strauss’ massive tone poem “Also Sprach Zarathustra” was made considerably more famous in the soundtrack of the famous Kubrick film, “2001: A Space Odyssey.” Grandiose and mercurial, the Strauss score was inspired by his readings in the works of philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche. It’s a spectacular orchestral showpiece, beginning with the wonderfully rumbly bass tones from the hall’s Watjen Concert Organ (played by Joseph Adam), and demanding virtuoso musicianship from every section in the orchestra. Dausgaard seemed to interact with every player as the mammoth work gradually unfolded on a stage crammed with extra musicians in nearly every section. The excellent solo work from all the principals (notably concertmaster Noah Geller, trumpeter David Gordon, and cellist Efe Baltacigil) emerged from the vast tapestry of this score with particular distinction.
The “Champagne Galop” encore, announced by a jubilant Dausgaard, put the final festive notes on the program – and many of the concertgoers went on to raise champagne glasses of their own in the post-concert gala event. Here’s to the start of a most promising new era for Seattle music lovers.
The Seattle Chamber Music Society’s Summer Festival; Nordstrom Recital Hall at Benaroya Hall, July 15
By Melinda Bargreen
The summer is zooming by, and the Seattle Chamber Music Society’s Summer Festival has started its second half with a July 15 program of particular merit. On Monday night, a receptive audience heard a world premiere, a famous Dvorak classic, and an impressive work by the “other Mendelssohn” (Felix Mendelssohn’s sister Fanny).
Among the players were the artistic director and artistic advisor of the Orcas Island Chamber Music Festival: violist Aloysia Friedmann and her husband, the pianist Jon Komura Parker, respectively. Like the Seattle festival’s director James Ehnes, Friedmann and Parker were advised and nurtured by the late Toby Saks, the region’s benevolent godmother of chamber festivals and the founder (in 1982) of the Seattle one.
Taking the stage for opening work on Monday evening were violinists Tessa Lark and Erin Keefe, violist Cynthia Phelps, and cellist Yegor Dyachkov – a well-balanced quartet that explored the dark intensity of Fanny Mendelssohn’s String Quartet in E-Flat Major, with particularly fine playing from Lark. Along with this score, there was music of a less appreciated variety. The somber, delicately quiet close of the Mendelssohn’s first movement was attended by one of the most conspicuous cellphone interruptions I’ve heard in all my years of concertgoing: a blast of “Westminster chimes” from the audience that visibly startled some of the musicians on the stage. What made the intrusion more unbelievable is that the phone also chimed out in the second movement (more quickly stifled this time).
The annual world premiere, funded by the festival’s commissioning club, is always an eagerly awaited event, as music lovers consider each potential addition to the chamber music repertoire: Will this new piece be the next great classic? Sebastian Currier’s new “Voyage Out,” for piano and string quartet, got an impassioned reading from violinists Yura Lee and Jun Iwasaki, violist Jonathan Vinocour, cellist Raphael Bell, and pianist Jeewon Park. Densely scored and rhythmically challenging, this performance often sounded like a work for chamber orchestra, not just a quintet.
The opening vigorous statement, which reappears later in a more frenetic form, gives way to slow drooping string chords that slide gracefully downward. The piano plays an angular melody as the quartet offers a wistful tonal accompaniment, as if regretting the decline of harmony. Spooky tremolos and gently slumping figures suggest the sagging clocks in Dali’s famous painting, “The Persistence of Memory.” Finally, amid eerie twitterings and harmonics from the strings, the piano plays a simple line that dwindles off, like the emanations of a distant planet.
It’s a voyage that takes a long time to get underway, unlike the final work on Monday’s program, the tuneful Dvorak Piano Quartet. A repertoire staple, this quartet is jam-packed with expressive possibilities. These were seized upon with great gusto (and remarkable subtlety) by violinist/festival director James Ehnes, violist Aloysia Friedmann, cellist Bion Tsang, and pianist Jon Kimura Parker. This was a performance that had everything: beautifully expressive phrasing, close partnership, and lots of lovely details (little changes in phrasing, attack, and character of each melodic line). The grandiosity of the ending made an exciting conclusion to a remarkable concert.
[Melinda Bargreen, a Seattle Times reviewer since 1977, is a composer and the author of two books, “Classical Seattle” and “50 Years of Seattle Opera”; she also writes for several publications. She can be reached at mbargreen@gmail.com.]
Seattle Times Interview with Ludovic Morlot: June 2019
By Melinda Bargreen
Orchestra conductors are all about timing: Giving the downbeat, starting the music; cueing the musicians, and giving the final cutoff.
For Ludovic Morlot, the timing is right for a departure from the Seattle Symphony, where his eight-year music directorship comes to an official close June 13-23 with two programs of music he loves best: works of Debussy, Janacek, Strauss, and Wagner. But unlike the career path of the typical major-orchestra music director, who usually moves on to a new orchestra directorship after departing, Morlot is looking at a variety of different musical activities – from symphonic and opera guest conducting to working with young musicians.
“It is quite unusual, I recognize, for a music director to leave one orchestra and not go straight to another,” the 45-year-old Morlot said in a recent interview at his Benaroya Hall office. “I am actually very happy about this. It is a lot about being able to reflect and to plan.
“You know, I’ve never been much of a career guy. I’ve never been driven by anything except growth. For me what is important is going to bed every night feeling I have learned something new. It’s wonderful to come back to a beautiful orchestra, but it’s only good if you know you can push them to the next level.”
Morlot can look back with considerable pride on the impact he has made here, even in a time period that was much shorter than that of some of his predecessors. During his tenure, the orchestra’s community outreach broadened with experimental series, such as “Untuxed” and “(untitled),” and collaborations with such non-classical artists as Mike McCready (of Pearl Jam) and rapper Sir Mix-a-Lot. With the eminent composer John Luther Adams, Morlot premiered and recorded the award-winning new works, “Become Ocean” and “Become Desert,” earning wide press attention and enthusiastic audiences.
On the recording front, the SSO launched its own record label, “Seattle Symphony Media,” and recordings on this and other labels won considerable acclaim (including five Grammy Awards).
Dmitriy Lipay, the SSO’s Grammy-winning recording engineer and producer, explains that Morlot “brought new vision and new repertoire to the orchestra. Every season there was new music, new commissioned pieces. He was very flexible, and I brought in my own ideas. The timing was good. We established the new label and could decide what to record. And the orchestra was ready for this: we were already very experienced in doing recordings.”
Playing the French music that Morlot particularly loves, in the style required by the music, has made a change in the SSO, Morlot believes.
“The orchestra has a new sound, with more transparency. Before, they have had a very rich sound, in terms of the unity of all the layers. I have worked to achieve more individuality into all those layers now, and French music has helped. Orchestras that play more vertically, let’s say more in German harmony concept, tend to forget sometimes the inner voices, to give an inner life to those voices. The musicians are more versatile now; they have the instinct and are more spontaneous on their own initiative.”
A major reason for these changes, Morlot explains, is the fact that more than 30 new players have joined the orchestra during his tenure, including several principals. Five new “associate principal” (second chair) positions also have been created in this busy orchestra that also plays for Seattle Opera. “If a principal always plays with the same second, they understand each other without having to speak,” Morlot observes.
Any unfulfilled hopes for his SSO tenure?
“Of course,” he replies. “I would have loved to get the orchestra on the road. The time will come; the timing of my tenure just did not coincide with the time that the organization felt really strong about committing to touring. And I would have loved to see a summer presence for the orchestra here, to create free concerts for the community and its visitors.”
Among Morlot’s post-Seattle plans will be some time working with young musicians, including the National Youth Orchestra of China, with which he will tour in Europe. He also will work with students at the Royal Academy in London (where Morlot studied) and the Yale Philharmonia. He’ll remain based in Los Angeles, where he lives with his wife and two daughters, 16 and 13.
“LA’s working magic for us. It’s a wonderful base, and it has been very easy for me to commute to Seattle in the last 2 years. The family is really happy down there.”
And yes, eventually there will be some guest-conducting in Seattle. But not yet.
“In any relationship, there are a lot of waves,” he says of his time here. “We all know how when you fall in love, you start at that magnificent height in the relationship that you know will decline in the morning. You want to make changes, which will lead inevitably to a drop in the relationship or misunderstandings. But then there’s that moment when people realize what is happening is absolutely wonderful, and the curve starts going up, and it is much stronger than when you started. I think you need to get out of the place before it goes down again.
“I think I timed it pretty well: the orchestra and I are in an amazing place at the moment, not only gone way back up, but having created much more intensity and much more understanding. It’s the right time to leave at this inspiring time for the orchestra. I am very happy for Thomas (Dausgaard) to build from this time on, because the orchestra is in a wonderful place, and the opportunity is there for it to sound better and better, every day.
“Just like in music: Timing is everything. I love that feeling of turning the page to the next chapter. And I will still be here in Seattle, a little. There is a certain way that the orchestra is breathing into a downbeat, and for awhile there will be a little ghost of me saying, “Breathe.” It’s inspiring to know that I have been a part of that.”
FACT BOX:
Ludovic Morlot’s final Seattle Symphony concerts as music director:
June 13 (7:30 p.m.), June 14 (noon), June 15 (8 p.m.): Ludovic Morlot, conductor; Mary Lynch, oboe soloist. Wagner, Prelude to Act III of “Lohengrin”: R. Strauss, Oboe Concerto; Debussy, “Jeux”; R. Strauss, “Til Eulenspiegel.” Benaroya Hall, 200 University Street, Seattle; 2-22, 206-215-4747, seattlesymphony.org.
June 20 (7:30 p.m.), June 22 (8 p.m.); June 23 (2 p.m.): Ludovic Morlot, conductor; Maria Männistö, soprano; Ludovit Ludha, tenor; Seattle Symphony Chorale. Wagner, Prelude and Liebestod from “Tristan und Isolde”; Debussy, “Pelléas et Melisande” Suite; Debussy, “Nocturnes”; Janácek, “The Eternal Gospel.” Benaroya Hall, 200 University Street, Seattle; 2-22, 206-215-4747, seattlesymphony.org.
REVIEW/INTERVIEW: “UNTOUCHABLE,” a novel by Jayne Ann Krentz
By Melinda Bargreen
Thirty-five million books in print.
More than 50 New York Times bestsellers.
As the latest of Jayne Ann Krentz’s more than 100 novels rolls off the presses and into the bookstores, it’s safe to bet that her “Untouchable” (Berkley Hardcover, 7), will have plenty of readers sitting up and taking notice. A concoction of Krentz’s favorite elements – romance, suspense, danger, and compelling characters – “Untouchable” also occupies an intriguing niche in her oeuvre. It is both a stand-alone novel and the finale of a three-book series about the long-awaited downfall of a charismatic cult leader whose evil deeds launched the saga.
You might think that all this plotting and planning, and the sheer volume of Krentz’s output, would operate like a well-oiled machine after nearly four decades of novels. But there is nothing mechanized about Krentz’s writing process. She describes the series culminating in “Untouchable” as “like juggling with chainsaws, for all three books. There were no storyboards: just chaos. Otherwise I would lose the energy, if I knew exactly where everything was going. I kept introducing elements that needed to be resolved. It was hard but fascinating to wind everything up.”
Clearly this is a process that works well for this prolific author, who also writes novels with a more historical setting under the pseudonym of Amanda Quick. There’s a third nom de plume as well: Jayne Castle, under which Krentz writes futuristic novels set in other worlds. At present, Krentz is concentrating on the first two names, Krentz and Quick: “I hope to get back to the Castles, but right now I’m having a lot of fun with the Quick books.”
How does she do it? – Writing two books a year, juggling two fictional worlds, editing and researching and doing publicity, keeping ideas and style fresh? – For nearly four decades?
Well, it helps to start the day early, and sometimes the day starts on a ship: Krentz and her husband Frank will occasionally take a month-long cruise, an atmosphere in which she can work very successfully. A morning person, Krentz is up and at her computer by 5 a.m.; she explains that she’s really “creative until about noon.” Petite, fit, and red-haired, she keeps in shape by walking and going to the gym, and she recently has undertaken boxing.
“I can see the appeal of the physical blow,” she quips of her sessions with a boxing trainer.
“I have permission to do something violent without repercussions. It’s surprisingly fun.”
Afternoons are usually spent editing what she has written, and doing research, as well as responding to typeset edits of books in progress. This way she is able to complete two books a year, with a break in between to consider new ideas. Krentz can get very analytical about the structure and appeal of her books – not surprising for a writer with a master’s degree in librarianship who edited and contributed to a non-fiction essay collection, Dangerous Men and Adventurous Women: Romance Writers on the Appeal of the Romance.
She knows her readers “come back again because of the author’s voice, and the core values in the voice. If the reader finds the values unpleasant, if the books don’t feel real or good, the reader won’t go back. My core story is my core story: I can explore it more widely in different settings and times, but with the same values and sensibilities. Every romance walks a line: they (the protagonists) see the hero in each other, but they respect their differences.”
Which books sell better – the contemporary Krentz ones, or the more historical Quicks? The author, who is perfectly capable of writing in one voice in the morning, and the other in the afternoon, says the former books have the popular edge now, but this changes from time to time. The Quick novels, now set in a fictitious California resort town frequented by Hollywood stars in the 1930s, have a glamorous aura and a lot of witty byplay that keeps Krentz smiling into her computer screen.
For Northwest readers, there’s a lot of fun in seeing Seattle and its environs providing the backgrounds for a lot of the Krentz novels, whether it’s a downtown art gallery with an unfortunate corpse, or an exploding yacht in the San Juans. For all her traveling, this author is a Northwesterner.
“I need Seattle,” Krentz laughs.
“I need Nordstrom! This is my town.”
The Seattle Symphony Orchestra and Chorale present Bach’s “Mass in B Minor,” Ludovic Morlot, conductor; repeated at 8 p.m. March 16, 2 p.m. March 17. Benaroya Hall, 200 University St., Seattle;
By Melinda Bargreen
Bach’s masterpiece, the “Mass in B Minor,” has left posterity struggling for superlatives to describe its scope and impact. In 1881, the Swiss composer and publisher Hans Georg Nägeli called it “the greatest work of all times and all people.” Others compare the Mass to Michelangelo’s ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. No wonder the Seattle Symphony’s Ludovic Morlot programmed this work as a milestone for his final season as music director.
Thursday’s first of three performances was gratifyingly good: strong leadership from Morlot, impressive singing from the soloists and chorus, virtuoso instrumental performances from the orchestra.
Full of quicksilver changes and challenges for all the forces involved, this mammoth work makes your average mass seem like a walk in the park. Nothing about it is easy or routine. Because the orchestra is relatively small (fewer than three dozen players), all the intricacies of the score are exposed, in music that stops and starts and shifts like quicksilver. The choral singers need the utmost alacrity and clarity to do justice to the often-convoluted lines of Bach’s brilliant choruses.
The four vocal soloists (Jane Archibald, Meg Bragle, Kenneth Tarver, and Andreas Wolf) were well chosen. The “Domine deus” duet of Archibald and Tarver, with the singing underlain by a delicious mixture of instrumental timbres, was particularly fine. Bragle was the surprise of the evening in a remarkably moving “Agnus Dei,” full of subtlety and feeling. The chorus, prepared by Joseph Crnko, did a heroic job in some of the most difficult choral singing in the repertoire.
At one point late in the performance, where the music was scored for “double chorus,” the choral singers disconcertingly left their positions on the risers during a brief pause (“What? They’re leaving?” murmured a nearby concertgoer.) They reassembled in a new configuration, probably to facilitate the “double chorus” designation, but the effort could have been spared: there wasn’t much difference in the “before and after” choral sound out in the hall.
The instrumental solo work was terrific – notably Demarre McGill’s exquisite flute, Mary Lynch’s beautiful oboe and oboe d’amore, Noah Geller’s well-judged violin, and Jeff Fair’s noble French horn. The continuo players, the vital force underlying everything, couldn’t have been better: Jordan Anderson (bass), Efe Baltacigil (cello), Joseph Adam (organ), and Jillon Stoppels Dupree (harpsichord) chief among them.
Go if you can; the sheer imaginative beauty of this masterpiece and its interpreters will reward you.
Review: “The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs,” presented by Seattle Opera (West Coast premiere); 27 February 2019.
By Melinda Bargreen
Special to The American Record Guide
Tech-friendly Seattle, home of Microsoft and Amazon, may be the ideal setting for an opera about Steve Jobs – even an opera that feels more like musical theater, with its amplifications and electronics and projections. “The (R)evolution of Steve Jobs,” which Seattle Opera opened on Feb. 23 (I heard the Feb. 27 show), featured an almost entirely different cast from the performers at the Santa Fe premiere in July of 2017; only Garrett Sorenson, an exceptionally convincing Steve Wozniak, reprised his role.
The Seattle version ran like a well-oiled machine, full of technical bells and whistles, and moving at a brisk clip – though it clocked in about 12 minutes longer than Santa Fe’s 90 minutes. There was much to impress in the swiftly changing Mason Bates score, the imaginative Kevin Newbury staging, and the brilliantly transformative Vita Tzykun sets that moved as quickly as … well, as computer screens, cleverly highlighted by lighting designer Japhy Weideman. Conductor Nicole Paiement, new to both Seattle Opera and to this production, did a remarkably good job of coordinating the show’s musical elements – which mix an electronic track full of sound effects together with live instruments, some of them amplified. The amplification, seamless as it may be, gives the show a curiously unreal quality for operagoers accustomed to acoustic sounds. And a few more memorable melodies would not have gone amiss in a score that is very busy but not always very lyrical.
The Mark Campbell libretto is a curious blend of the high-minded and the vernacular: the Zen Buddhist mentor, Kobun Chino Otogawa (the excellent Adam Lau) mixes dignified spiritual rhetoric with banal observations like “Karma can suck.” The 18 scene changes, following no particular linear timeline, evidently left some Seattle operagoers wondering whether or not to applaud at the end of the scenes (some of those endings seemed to invite audience reaction). And there were perhaps a few too many quotations of Bach’s familiar C Major Prelude from the “Well-Tempered Clavier.”
John Moore did a heroic job in the title role; he’s an accomplished, mellow-voiced singer and a persuasive actor (delightful as Papageno a few seasons back) who apparently lost weight in order to portray the gaunt Jobs. He was equally effective as the exuberant inventor and chilly boyfriend of the unfortunate Chrisann Brennan (Madison Leonard, who was excellent), the mother of his long-unacknowledged daughter.
Sorensen’s jolly Wozniak rose to high seriousness in the scene in which he bitterly parts ways with Jobs.
Emily Fons, making her Seattle debut as Jobs’ long-suffering wife, brought a welcome warmth to her scenes, though the opera’s finale oddly featured her in a lengthy extended aria (while her late husband sat silently to one side of the stage and listened). Giving her the very substantial “last word” here seemed strange: the opera is not, after all, called “Laurene Powell Jobs.” All the same, the performance got a rapturous ovation from a deeply attentive audience.
The Seattle Chamber Music Society’s Winter Festival; Nordstrom Recital Hall at Benaroya Hall, Jan. 20.; Nordstrom Recital Hall at Benaroya Hall, 200 University Street, Seattle.
By Melinda Bargreen
It may be winter, but it’s still festival time inside Benaroya Hall’s Nordstrom Recital Hall. On Sunday afternoon, a happy crowd of concertgoers thronged through the recital hall’s jam-packed lobby, on their way to a program of chamber gems: a trio, a duo, and a quintet.
Festival artistic director James Ehnes was on hand for the event, the third of six concerts in the Seattle Chamber Music Society’s annual winter counterpart to their longer-running summer festival. Not surprisingly, Ehnes – one of the country’s most highly regarded violinists – and his duo partner, pianist Andrew Armstrong, provided some of Sunday’s most exciting music in a program that extended from Beethoven to Debussy and Shostakovich.
The stormy Beethoven Violin Sonata in C Minor (Op. 30, No. 2) of 1802 ranks among some of the finest works in this genre, and Ehnes gave it a noble reading. Patrician in phrasing, powerful in approach, this performance also was perfectly balanced between violinist and pianist. Armstrong was with Ehnes in every well-chosen phrase, every pause and attack. The interplay in the Adagio Cantabile movement was particularly fine.
The program’s hors d’oeuvre, Debussy’s charming and evocative Sonata for Flute, Viola, and Harp, brought together three first-rate players: two Seattle Symphony musicians (principal flutist Demarre McGill and harpist Valerie Muzzolini), and violist Matthew Lipman, an international chamber-festival musician. The Debussy offers lots of textures: the instruments are blown, plucked, and bowed (respectively), and Debussy gives them plenty of lustrous, colorful interplay. The three players, all closely attuned to each other, emphasized the contrasts between the delicate and declarative passages in a stylish, often ethereal performance.
Shostakovich’s Quintet for Piano and Strings in G Minor (Op. 57) is one of the great chamber works of the 20th century. Composed during World War II, the quintet’s five movements range from expressions of furious energy and sardonic humor to quiet lyricism and existential despair, all rendered with a wide array of colors and effects from the five instruments (violinists Scott St. John and Sean Lee, violist Sharon Wei, cellist Efe Baltacigil, and pianist Joyce Yang). St. John took a commanding lead in the ensemble, making some lovely interpretive points in his extended solos. The performance brought forth the huge emotional range of the Shostakovich – and brought down the house, as well.
What a gift this wintertime presence offers the area’s chamber-music fans, in these traffic-ridden, post-holiday weeks when summer seems an eternity away.
”Norwegian American” (biweekly newspaper) Story on Swedish Death Cleaning, January 2019:
By Melinda Bargreen
We busy and overstressed Americans have increasingly turned to Scandinavia in recent years for advice on how to live a better and happier life. Books like Bronte Aurell’s tongue-in-cheek “North: How to Live Scandinavian” teach us how to be more Danish, Norwegian, or Swedish; innumerable volumes on “hygge” advise readers to follow the Danes to a cozier way of life. There’s even a humorous reactionary book about this trend, Michael Booth’s witty “The Almost Nearly Perfect People,” warning readers that not everything in Scandinavia is idyllic.
Under more ominous titles, other authors now are informing us about the unhappily-named concept of “death cleaning” (“döstädning”): How to clear out loads of your accumulated stuff before you die, so that your heirs won’t have to. In many ways, this is a great idea, though I wish the “death cleaning” name didn’t give readers the feeling that the Grim Reaper is right behind them, waving his scythe and waggling his finger as they wrestle with a lifetime of accrued possessions and memorabilia.
Launching this phenomenon was last year’s book called The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning: How to Free Yourself and Your Family from a Lifetime of Clutter, written by Margareta Magnusson—a Swedish artist who describes her age as “between 80 and 100.” By the time you read the book, you may well feel 100.
You’re supposed to start the “death cleaning” process around age 65, by selling items that are saleable and giving away other items as gifts to friends and family. (Presumably they don’t have to worry about their own death cleaning.) Then you move on to asking yourself a key question about other items: “Will anyone be happier if I save this?”
Here’s one problem: that question is pretty much unanswerable. By the time you die, your heirs might have treasured an heirloom or a keepsake that you’ve already offloaded. Right now, they may have no interest in objects that you’ve saved from their infancy or childhood; later on, though, when they have children of their own, their feelings and values might be quite different. One of my children who had earlier smirked at my box of carefully saved baby clothes ended up proudly photographing our grandchild wearing some of those outfits.
Home furnishings are a tricky issue, because tastes change so much between generations. If your house is full of “brown furniture” (dining room tables, chairs, wooden cabinets), and if you have sets of formal china dishes, chances are pretty good that your heirs will not be fighting over the chance to acquire them.
An easier issue, Magnusson writes, is your own clothing: Go through your closet, and get rid of clothes that you don’t wear. Maybe they’re the wrong size, or have some defect (a missing button, a broken zipper), or are uncomfortable (too scratchy, too hot), or shoes that pinch so that you never wear them, or just one of those items you start to reach for and then always say, “No. Not this one.”
Tackle the keepsakes and memorabilia that probably have no meaning to anyone but yourself, Magnusson advises, and put them in a box; label it to be discarded after your death. But make sure your heirs have the information they need to deal with your assets: passwords for your various accounts, combinations (and locations!) for any safes.
Photos can be a tricky issue. We have a modest-sized box of family photographs from the 19th and early 20th centuries – those beautiful studio photos (many of them from Norway and Denmark, in our case), printed on heavy stock with scrolled borders that make them works of art. What to do with those? In our case, I have scanned them with a high-resolution scanner; created a photo “key” in a Word document that identifies Photo No. 1 as my great-great-grandmother by name, date, and location; and put everything on those handy USB “memory sticks” to be dispensed to any family member who wants them. They can decide what to do with the beautiful originals.
A major motivation for the “Death Cleaning” book is Magnusson’s desire to spare her heirs the task of disposing of unwanted stuff after her death. And she is quite right: this can be a tremendous burden. My parents died in their 90s, and my mother-in-law was 106 upon her demise. Both their houses, where they lived for six or seven decades, contained valuables, but also were full of a lifetime of accumulated and useless possessions: Christmas ornaments from the 1950s with all the glitter worn off, and strings of lights that probably would have shut down the city’s power grid if connected. Boxes of stuff that had attracted admiring attention from rodents in the attic. Condolence cards from a family death in the 1940s. Boxes upon boxes of received Christmas cards with no special message; boxes upon boxes of newspaper clippings featuring recipes for Mystery Salad or advice for defrosting your refrigerator. Closets full of damaged clothing that was unwearable but “too good” to recycle, according to Depression-era concepts of thrift. Piles of yellowed magazines and mouse-nibbled periodicals; boxes full of unidentified and overexposed snapshots from long-ago trips; once-beautiful but stained or damaged tablecloths; figurines and vases and ceramic objects of no particular use or distinction. And a closet full of cardboard dress boxes and old department-store boxes, too flimsy or worn-out to be useful for packaging up all the other unwanted items.
We’re still in the process of following Magnusson’s precepts in our own house, winnowing guiltily away at our own supplies of vases, souvenirs, keepsakes, and … stuff. Death cleaning is a “work in progress.” But we take heart in her short and sometimes hilarious YouTube video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXj3iy1Sgc4&list=LLXV2MKaCI_eHMa3tTU5hFIA), in which Magnusson declares: “"You are never ready with your death cleaning because you don't know when you are going to die. So it goes on and on."
”Headlong,” a novel by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles
(Bill Slider Mystery Book 21, reviewed for The Norwegian American):
Mystery buffs and Anglophiles: if you haven’t encountered Bill Slider yet, you have a feast of reading ahead of you. The prolific, tongue-in-cheek British author Cynthia Harrod-Eagles has just issued her 21st book in the series, and it is sufficiently entertaining that even if you haven’t read the previous 20, you’re likely to start right in without any introduction. (Of course, the more you know about the good-hearted, imaginative English policeman and the characters surrounding him, the more you’ll enjoy the latest book.)
“Headlong” is a good description of what happens to the murder victim of the title, an important literary and society gentleman who has apparently fallen out of his apartment window by accident. That’s what everyone thinks, at least – but Detective Chief Inspector Slider is suspicious of a few details at the crime scene and believes there’s more to discover.
The deceased, a popular publishing figure with a long and tangled history of love affairs, is loved by just about everyone. Except, of course, by his killer. Is it an ex-wife, one of his many disappointed girlfriends, a business rival, a jealous husband? Perhaps an angry would-be author, or an irate publisher? All the witnesses Slider interviews claim that he was universally loved. But Slider thinks someone hated him enough to commit murder.
Searching down a variety of avenues full of evidence, Slider hits one dead end after another. A cast of often hilarious would-be authors, poseurs, vacuous society types, and Slider’s earnest fellow sleuths enriches the process. So does Harrod-Eagles’ nifty, descriptive prose style: Jim Atherton, Slider’s sergeant and friend, expertly drives through heavy London traffic “slipping like a salmon between two cars to enter the white water of the West Cross roundabout”.
We also encounter the continuing saga of Slider’s and Atherton’s home life and love interests, with all the attendant complications. In particular, Slider and his Joanna (a professional freelance violinist who plays with several major orchestras) must juggle the highly irregular-hours demands of their careers, and their greatly loved little son, as they find a way forward as a couple.
“Headlong,” like all the novels in this series, is what you’d call a “police procedural,” a genre I don’t often read. But I happily make an exception for this series, which gets my enthusiastic recommendation. Even if you read the books out of order, Harrod-Eagles makes it easy for you to fall right into this milieu and its entertaining cast of characters.
Seattle Opera presents Verdi’s “Il Trovatore”; Marion Oliver McCaw Hall, Seattle, Saturday night and Sunday afternoon (repeated through Jan. 26; 5-50; 206-389-7676; seattleopera.org).
By Melinda Bargreen
Nobody goes to “Il Trovatore” for the plot.
The Verdi opera’s improbable story line is famously ripe for parody (most notably by the Marx Brothers and by Gilbert & Sullivan), and it presents some formidable staging challenges. But it also offers one great aria after another, some exciting choruses, and some of the meatiest roles in all of opera.
Seattle Opera has risen to these challenges with two terrific casts in a fairly straightforward approach to “Trovatore,” with mostly period sets (originally by John Conklin, reworked by associate designer Christopher Mumaw) and costumes (by Candace Frank), an imaginative newcomer as stage director, and a first-rate veteran conductor in the orchestra pit.
On the opening weekend, the scene changes seemed extremely lengthy, with many thumps and bumps going on behind the closed curtains. (At one point on Saturday night, an audience member was heard to shout, “Need some help?”)
This being the height of cold/flu season, Seattle Opera’s general director Aidan Lang took to the stage before both shows to announce the indisposition of Adam Lau (as Ferrando, in both performances) and tenor Martin Muehle (as Manrico, on Sunday). Both went on to give remarkably good efforts; few could have guessed that they were unwell.
The four major roles in “Il Trovatore” are arduous and demanding, with familiar arias that provide a real proving ground for singers. On Saturday, the opening night audience heard the resplendent soprano Leah Crocetto as Leonora, offering some thrilling high notes and a performance that combined power and easy facility. Her Manrico was Arnold Rawls, a dashing actor whose tenor took awhile to warm up, but rose to the challenge of “Di quella pira” in fine style.
As the gypsy Azucena, Elena Gabouri (last heard here in the title role of “Aida”) was a powerful singer and actress who performed with all-out intensity. Baritone Lester Lynch, heard earlier this season as Crown in “Porgy and Bess,” displayed a wide interpretive range as the villainous Di Luna: commandingly evil, yet capable of warm subtlety in his aria “Il balen.”
In Sunday’s alternate cast, the standout was the thrilling Leonora of Angela Meade, a soprano from Centralia who has won 57 competition prizes and who debuted at the Metropolitan Opera in 2008. Her beautiful tone quality and her interpretive artistry were capped with an amazing crescendo on the high A-flat at the end of “D’amor sull’ali rosee” – which met with a show-stopping ovation of cheers and whistles.
Nora Sourouzian’s Azucena grew steadily in strength and finesse as Sunday’s show went on, and baritone Michael Mayes made a vital, vivid Count Di Luna. John Marzano and Nerys Jones were commendable in their supporting roles as Ruiz and Inez.
Seattle stage director Dan Wallace Miller made his company mainstage debut with this production, presenting an original, effective approach to an opera that requires a great deal of dashing about – duels, battles, deaths, amorous clinches, treachery, avowals of hatred and love, and renunciations. In one key scene, he reduced a chaotic battle to a slow-motion background for the lovers’ crucial real-time interchange: chancy but effective. Miller also made vivid use of “shadow plays,” backlighted episodes with actors dramatizing the narrative.
The chorus, always a vital force in “Il Trovatore,” sang with spirit and accuracy (prepared by chorusmaster John Keene), and Christopher Forey’s lighting was appropriately atmospheric.
The single most important element in the production was conductor Carlo Montanaro, whose propulsive sense of drama was equaled only by his lyricism, his ability to “breathe with” the singers, and his total command of the score. Lucky singers, instrumentalists … and audiences.