Victorian Opera: Voyage to the moon

Victorian Opera
Voyage to the moon
Elisabeth Murdoch Hall
19 February 2016
then Sydney, Brisbane, Canberra, Perth, Adelaide

Spectacular range – low tenor to mid-bass with no head to chest voice break. Low notes retain their clarity with no growl. Rapid vibrato that suits baroque singing. He makes the hideously difficult rapid runs seem effortless (Difficult? Where?). Mostly, though, it’s the rich beauty of his voice that is captivating.

Jeremy Kleeman as Magus
httphistoriesofemotion.com20160219voyage-to-the-moon-performer-perspectives-with-jeremy-kleeman-3

Towards the end of 2013 Lisa Gasteen finished a week of intensive teaching with the eight Vic Opera/MU Master of Music course students. She ripped into young Mr Kleeman (in the most gentle of ways, of course). His body language suggested he was not amused. She wouldn’t have bothered if she knew he wasn’t worth it. We could hear his wort then. Doubtless she could.

I next heard him singing The Pudding – the Magic variety – in a bowler hat. Then in an interminable Handel Opera – part of Brisbane Baroque. He was good and very good, then. But in The Moon he was superb.

I have a vested interest in the Master of Music course that was part of; we support it. I’m very glad we do because it produced – it keeps on producing – voices of the quality of Jeremy’s. His parents are partly to blame. They give him that wonderful collection of genes that are the foundation of a brilliant singer. And his incredible hard work and intelligent approach to singing is doing the rest.

Of course Christina Smith’s stunning costume helped – a lot: a full length black and gold brocade coat that was purpose-built for his long, lean frame. Matt Scott/Peter Darby’s wonderful lighting measured the mood and responded. But (I have to have a grump) I would have liked surtitles.

And it was right, very right, that the longest individual ‘aria’ applause was given to Phoebe Briggs’ seven-piece ensemble. These super-talented musicians gave us the great gift of superb music-making.

Rachael Beesley, Zoë Black,Simon Oswell, Phoebe Briggs, Molly Kadarcauch, Kirsty McCahon, Emma Black
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10153627335524219.1073741851.127956549218&type=3

We’ve come to expect perfection from Sally-Anne Russell – her Gluck aria with Emma Black  was riveting – and Emma Matthews. They seemed completely at home with the Alan Curtis/Calvin Bowman pastiche. If nothing else the score demonstrates the incredible depth of opera-music talent in this country.

Sally-Anne Russell, Jeremy Kleeman, Emma Matthews, Pheobe Briggs behind the harspichord, Kristy McCahon behind the double bass.
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10153627335524219.1073741851.127956549218&type=3

Voyage was so right. If anyone doubts that Richard Mills and Vic Opera can’t (still) mount a world-class opera they weren’t there.

Now … I’m off to break open the piggy bank. There’s a fresh crop of young singers for VO to mentor.

Jeremy's blog post about Voyage including his off-cuff rewriting of the libretto is at The History of Emotion's site.

The History of Emotions is conducting a major research project on Vic Opera's Voyage to the Moon.

The Voyage to the Moon researchers are Jane Davidson, Joe Browning and Frederic Kiernan, based at the University of Melbourne. Jane Davidson is Professor of Creative and Performing Arts (Music) at the Faculty of the Victorian College of the Arts and Melbourne Conservatorium of Music, The University of Melbourne, and Deputy Director of the Australian Research Council’s Centre of Excellence for the History of Emotions (CHE). Joseph Browning is a ethnomusicologist and postdoctoral research fellow at CHE specialising in the shakuhachi, central Javanese gamelan, and ethnographic approaches to Western art music. Frederic Kiernan is a PhD candidate at the Melbourne Conservatorium of Music and research assistant at CHE.

#LetThemStay

State Library of Victoria
8 February 2016
LetThemStay rally


I was (and still am) angry enough about the Australian Government's (= Turnbull / Liberal Party) policy on asylum seekers and the Australian Labor Party’s scramble to “me too” the lock-'em-up policy to dig out my First Dog tee shirt and tram it to the State Library for Get Up’s rally.

Old and leftie he may be, but he votes.
©SGJ8022016

Old farts don’t demos.

They don’t do they?

Old farts and young farts were angry and chanted 'Let them stay'. They (nearly all) vote.

©SGJ8022016

Old farts have a few advantages, to whit,

• they have fewer years left than they have used and they want to use them well
• they don’t give a shit what people think of them
• they have well-oiled political hypocrisy detectors
• they vote.

Delicious irony: Sir Redmond Barry - of Ned Kelly fame, now immobile in bronze - presides over a protest rally. Like Mr Turnbull, he was significantly outnumbered.
©SGJ8022016

I cannot – will not – vote for a party that will return the 267 refugees presently in Australia back to Nauru.

I cannot – will not – vote for a party that incarcerates refugees in the hell-holes we pay for on Nauru and Manus Island.
I cannot – will not – vote for a party that institutionalises cruel and inhumane treatment of innocent people.

Not in my name Mr Turnbull; not with my money.

ANAM: Adam McMillan and Laurence Matheson

ANAM
South Melbourne Town Hall

Monday 1 November 2015

RAVEL, Gaspard de la nuit

Adam McMillan

“A great musician is a great gastronome”, some bloke may have said about Rossini. The evidence included Rossini’s great corporation. There are exceptions. Adam McMcMillan, evidently, is an exceptional musician.

Ravel wrote some incredibly difficult music. Whether or not a pianist gets it technically is pretty obvious.

Adam did.

Much more subtly, whether or not a pianist gets it musically is a matter of emotional judgement.

Adam did.

Gaspard de la nuit of 1908 is instantly recognisable as Ravel and the first of the three poèmes, Ondine is set in constantly rippling water, writing that suggests Ravel understood chaos theory.

To play Gaspard – particularly to an educated, experienced audience (about 100 retirees and fellow students) – suggests supreme confidence, high-order foolishness or technical and musical competence of an extraordinary order. At about the one-minute mark, I’d opted for the technical bit. At about the three-minute mark I’d firmly decided on the musical bit too because Adam had answered my fundamental question about this piece, Was he finding the images and painting them for me?

Like the ripples in Ondine’s water that are nothing but the location of water molecules in three dimensions, Ravel’s – and Adam’s – music are nothing more than soundwaves in time. Neither the ripples nor the music exist until I stand back and see (or hear) it in perspective. The magic of Adam’s performance was that underneath the chaos of the ripples he found the melodic line (Ondine?). Fiendish stuff to play. Even more difficult to make work.

Gaspard de la Nuit, Ondine last page. Note the ppp

  

But as is the way of consummate musicians, apart from the cascades of notes that encompassed the entire range of the Steinway, Adam never let it sound like hard work.

The B-flat octave ostinato tolls aggravatingly throughout Le Gibet – admittedly much more aggravatingly to the poor blighter swaying in the breeze from the gallows. The rich backdrop of Ravel’s minor chords, often exhilarating in his work, only make the tolling worse. More technical brilliance; more superb musicianship.

Gaspard de la Nuit, Le Gibet

The dwarf, Scarbo, emerged, laughed, taunted, threatened. On a wickedness scale of one to ten, he represented a score of 13. Adam found his malevolence in bucket loads in Ravel’s wonderful highly chromatic score.

Gaspard de la Nuit, Scarbo

Has an ANAM end-of-year recital ever generated a standing ovation? This got pretty damn close.

RACHMANINOV, Suite no. 2 for two pianos in C minor op. 17

Adam McMillan

Laurence Matheson

If Ravel is an impressionist – even though he rejected the description – this piece is pure Rachmaninov-romanticism. There are hints of the two great piano concertos – Two and Three – every few minutes. It has “soaring melodies building to a dramatic climax” (Adam) that brand this music as gut-grabbing Rachmaninov. And the notes, the number of notes. The two pianists had 20 cm fingers and six or seven on each hand.

But it wasn’t difficult; It wasn’t hard work – or it didn’t seem so. It was cascades of gorgeous music that left a gent in front of me grinning with delight as he applauded.

Critical to the success of this performance – apart from the technical wizardry – was the synergy of two pianists controlling the rubatos (rubati?) by gut; clearly they couldn’t see each other’s hands.

Two superb pianists, one superlative composition; one splendid recital. Bravo, gentlemen!

Victorian Opera: Simon and The Suit

The Grumpiest Boy in the World

Victorian Opera

Coopers Malthouse

3 October 2015

Jacob Lawrence was on stage for the entire time today. Most of that was shared with a dog. When it wasn’t with a dog it was with a lion. When it wasn’t a dog or a lion it was with children – even if the oldest of them was 25.

Given the adage about stages, children and animals, poor Jacob/Zachary Riddling (by no  means middling) shouldn’t have stood a chance. But he did.

Two weeks ago I sat in on the first voice run-through of The Grumpiest Boy in the World. Jacob was on top of his part then. Four days ago I sat in on the sitzprobe. Then, the score lay open at his feet – just a security thing.

Today he gave a sizzling performance; note perfect, witty and beautifully articulated . He was on top of the dog too – literally in one scene where the hapless dog, having been dispatched to the back yard, doubled as a horse.

Jacob Lawrence, dog and fantasy chorus incl. a squirrel monkey on a scooter (as you'd expect)
Source: https://www.facebook.com/victorianopera/photos/a.417759429218.192233.127956549218/10153378160534219/?type=3&theater

It was the chorus, though, that gave Jacob/Zachary a run for his money in sharing the lime-light. They were superb.

This opera is a Victorian Opera commission. It had a young cast, some drawn from Victorian Youth Opera Chorus Ensemble (VOYCE). And it was the first totally solo, it’s-all-down-to-me opera conducting-in-a-suit job of Simon Bruckard.

The chorus was a dream group. They’d rolled up to the first singing run-through two weeks ago with most of them having learned their part. On stage today in the second performance they were energetic, perfectly drilled and chorally thrilling. The little buggers (some of whom were really big buggers) could sing! – superbly.

My opinion of Grumpy today is really not relevant, though. The big test was the response of the target audience: the kids. My test subjects, a dozen or so boys and girls aged 6 to 10 in my field of view (a 4 metre radius) were totally absorbed for the entire time. A 10 year old right index finger didn’t leave it’s default position – in the right nostril – for the full 50 minutes.

The kids were there for Zachary and the terrific fantasy scenes they created. I was there for Simon Bruckard, the conductor.

I had first interviewed him in late July for Behind the Curtain, Victorian Opera’s blog. We spoke again in mid September when he had only just seen the full score of Grumpy.Over the past couple of months BtC published three of my pieces following Simon working on the score. 

http://www.victorianopera.com.au/news/blog/

Now, I wanted so see how he managed that score with a real, live cast – and pit ensemble – in front of him and a real live audience including those most uncompromising of critics – children –  behind him.

 In a word, like a pro (that’s three words). The confidence I’d seen at the sitzprobe was there again today. The absolute control of the young chorus and note by note support of the principals was there as well. The only crack in his control was him not being terribly sure what to do with the applause that was justly his. And that was nice. The quiet, unassuming but clearly competent young musician who had talked to me about his life and music during the year was there again today.

Opinion in our house is that Grumpy, the canine lion (or leonine canid) and Simon B should be reprised.

To them let us garlands bring

Nathan Lay and friends

Lieder Society of Victoria

30 September 2015

Richmond Uniting Church

It had to be a winner, did this recital.

Four musicians hand-picked from a pool of 70 contenders for the Victorian Opera-Melbourne Con. Master of Music degree and an expertly ‘curated’ (sorry, but that’s what it really was) program of English, Italian and German songs. Add to that mix two years of hard yakka: coaching and teaching, language and stagecraft and we had a concert where everyone knew their stuff and got on with it.

It was a relaxed and joyous affair, crowned – wait for it – by a standing ovation. The audience was a hard one: lieder groupies, people who knew the text by heart, who had firmly-held opinions on interpretation and dynamics. And into this den strode the four friends.

Nathan Lay and Simon Bruckard began with that luscious cycle of Gerald Finzi. Very English, with text from Shakespeare plays. Everyone in the church had the Bryn recording of course, but after a few seconds he’d been replaced by Nathan and Simon. That in itself is an indication of the musicianship of the two young men.

Nathan now has a rich baritone voice now expertly placed in his head to produce a sound that gently but firmly filled the space without any stress. It was a hard space to sing in and his opera-house power could easily have bullied us. He found the gentle soliloquies in Finzi’s songs and Simon walked beside him all the way. This was not opera. This was art song – crisp and clean and totally beautiful.

Michael ‘The Rabbit’ Petruccelli drew a complete change of pace: the randy Italian under the window with his guitar (I’ve never heard it called that before) but with Papa’s blunderbuss not far away.

He’d chosen songs that sat right in the middle of his range and he didn’t even think about his Italian-tenor-wobble-and-sob software. His pianissimo was beautifully controlled. His Torna a Surriento was an example masterful resistance – musicianship over histrionics. This was not just voice. It was brain and voice. And again, Simon provided the bedrock that the singer built on.

Was Matthew nervous? Recovering from a cold? There was no doubting his control of the difficult Strauss songs. I assume his German was faultless; Simon would have seen to that. But his voice didn’t have the richness I’d heard from him only a few weeks before.

Matthew has a voice that’s developed superbly in the two years of Vic Opera’s MoM program. He can handle Rossini on one hand and Strauss on the other. In spite of his voice difficulty, though ,we got the magic of these beautiful songs.

Everyone in the church had, no doubt, one song that grabbed them; that took them back to a wonderful place.

Once, when I knew nothing about RVW’s songs, I accompanied Lois for her A Mus A exam. Silent Noon was on her list. In spite of my ignorance loved it then. I do now and more so. Would Nathan find the summer heat, the dragon-fly hanging like a blue thread … from the sky?

Yes.

But he didn’t have the quandary I had. Lois was prepared to marry me ‘if I would have her’.

Accompany? yes. Marry? no! So … moving right along …

The best was last.

‘Litanei’, Schubert. A rich, powerful, emotional song where baritone and piano need to be welded, totally integrated; smooth vocal lines on equal footing with carefully controlled pedalling. It was there. It was all there. Real grab-you-in-the-gut stuff.

I loved it.

Who is going to fund these blokes to do a Salon recital?