Tuesday 28 August 2012

Good for Lotsa Laffs!

It's a real pity that the French opéra-bouffe tradition isn't better known in North America, where the classic English comic operas of Gilbert and Sullivan hold sway alongside the operettas of Strauss and Lehar.  If the music of Jacques Offenbach, the genius of opera-bouffe is known at all, it's through the delirious arrangement that Manuel Rosenthal made of excerpts from his operettas, in the ballet called Gaité Parisienne.

Today's subject is an even rarer fish: the first successful opéra-bouffe from Emanuel Chabrier.  Chabrier is better known for his orchestral fantasy Espana, but there's no doubt in my mind that this comic opera, L'Étoile, is out of the top drawer and certainly ought to be better known and more often performed.  It was first performed in 1877 at the Théâtre des Bouffes-Parisiens, which had been the scene of many of Offenbach's most memorable productions.  My sources assure me that L'Étoile is indeed becoming better known since John Eliot Gardiner made his magnificent recording at the Opéra de Lyon in 1984.

Like any good comic opera, L'Étoile has a plot which is ridiculous but characters which are believable.  The star of the show is mezzo-soprano Colette Alliot-Lugaz in the breeches role of the peddler Lazuli, the young hero who eventually sweeps Princess Laoula off her feet.  Georges Gautier is first-rate in the tenor role of King Ouf, and the veteran bass Gabriel Bacquier is a splendid foil as the astronomer royal and fortune-teller Siroco. 

There are lots of sparkling musical delights in this score -- in fact it's loaded with plums!  But one of my personal favourites is the chorus of welcome for the King in the opening scene ("Vive Ouf, vive notre Ouf" sung at top speed by the chorus in a French equivalent of a G&S patter song).  Another splendid moment comes after Lazuli has been (apparently) drowned in the lake.  The chorus sing their condolences to Laouala but their song quickly evolves into a can-can!  In the final act Lazuli staggers ashore and sings a song in which he sneezes repeatedly while the orchestra wittily echoes his sneezing.  And so on, and so on.  And in the end, because it is comic opera, Lazuli and Laouala are happily married with Ouf's blessing.  This makes King Ouf one of the very few leading tenors in opera history who doesn't get the girl!

EMI reissued Gardiner's classic recording as a 2-CD bargain set a few years back, and that's when I picked it up.  If this sounds appealing to you, grab it fast if you see it!

Sunday 19 August 2012

Hidden Treasure

Every so often I dig out a CD that I hadn't listened to for a long time.  And when I do it's usually a real treasure that repays my time amply.

This was an unusual one from the world of chamber music: a pair of "double quartets" by Louis Spohr.  Right away, the questions start flowing:  [1]  Isn't a double quartet the same thing as an octet?  [2]  Who the heck is Louis Spohr anyway?  [3]  Why haven't I heard of this guy or his music before?

Take them in reverse order.  You probably haven't heard of him because his lifespan overlapped those of Beethoven, Liszt and Wagner, and the Powers-that-be have decided long ago that he is an unimportant figure compared to those giants.  Once again, I beg to differ.

So:  Louis Spohr lived frm 1784 to 1859.  In his own lifetime he was esteemed as a first-rank virtuoso of the violin and as a conductor.  He composed numerous symphonies, operas, oratorios, 7 violin concertos (!) and a large trove of chamber music ensembles of varying sizes.

This brings us to the present works.  The "double quartet" idea originated with another violinist and composer, Andreas Romberg, whom Spohr held in considerable esteem.  It was Spohr who took up the concept and made it his own in four double quartets.  The difference from an octet is simply that the two quartets remain separate but equal bodies, perhaps seated thus on stage, in order to allow for antiphonal interplay between them.

Now, this is a familiar concept in vocal music, where composers for centuries have composed works for multiple choirs allowing for antiphonal singing.  But Spohr moved the idea into a new realm with his double quartets, and even took it into orchestral music in his Seventh Symphony for 2 orchestras!  This sounds fascinating, and I must have a look for a possible recording.

In the meantime, here we have the first two double quartets played by the Academy of St. Martin in the Fields Chamber Ensemble.  The 1986 Hyperion recording has a full acoustic with just enough reverbrance to suit chamber music.  As for the music itself, hese are the works of a mature and skilled composer and it shows in the development of the musical material.  Only the medium still tested him as he explored the possibilities opening up for him.  But certainly the double quartet format creates rich and glowing textures that are subtly different from a conventional octet.  At any rate, this is very listenable music with enough depth to satisfy repeated hearings.  I'm also going to be casting about for a recording (perhaps more recent) of the third and fourth double quartets, in which his mastery of the form is said to be considerably greater.  In the meantime, I am surely going to enjoy this one!

Saturday 11 August 2012

The Touches of Sweet Harmony

I want to go out on my limb right at the outset.  Argue with me at your peril.

Considering music as music, I venture to suggest that the most musically perfect setting ever made of Shakespeare's poetry is the Serenade to Music composed by Ralph Vaughan Williams (yes, him again!) in 1938.

For starters, I have long felt that the Garden Scene from Act V of The Merchant of Venice is one of the most beautiful poetic set-pieces of Shakespeare's entire career.  When Vaughan Williams took up this poetry at the very height of his lyrical and orchestral powers, the result was and is an absolutely glorious marriage of words and music.

That, by the way, isn't my metaphor.  Michael Kennedy, the great English scholar and musicologist, described the long orchestral introduction of the Serenade (which introduces several of the main themes) and then simply added: "Thereafter, words and music, indissolubly wedded, speak for themselves."  And that really is all anyone needs to say.

The Serenade to Music was composed in 1938 for a special occasion: a Jubilee Concert to honour the 50th anniversary of the conducting career of Sir Henry Wood, the Music Director of the Proms at the Royal Albert Hall.  Vaughan Williams composed a piece of music like no other, setting Shakespeare's poetry for orchestra and sixteen solo voices of sixteen singers closely associated with Wood.  After that memorable premiere (and the mono recording made soon afterwards) he revised the piece for the more conventional choir and four soloists, and that's the form in which it's usually heard.

This post was triggered by the unusual treat of hearing the Serenade performed live in the original version for multiple soloists.  The Elmer Iseler Singers sang it thus at the Festival of the Sound in Parry Sound last night, and did the music full justice.  They are one of the very few chamber choirs I know that would dare such a feat, and 'tis pity only a few hundred people got to hear the performance.

You see, recordings of the Serenade to Music as originally composed are very rare birds.  The first mono recording has been available on a specialist label devoted to historic reissues (I haven't heard it but have read that it is certainly worth seeking out).  Sir Adrian Boult recorded it in stereo in the late 1960s as fill-up to the equally lyrical Fifth Symphony, and this record has long been a favourite of mine.  Hyperion Records did a more recent version which I felt was let down by one or two instances of wobbly intonation, and a couple of overly-broad vibratos.  These are the only versions of the original Serenade that I know of, and would be glad to hear of others.  But for me, the Boult recording approaches to perfection -- singers in every part as nearly perfectly matched to their roles as in 1938.  If you can find that, don't hesitate.

I will confidently predict that anyone who hears this music for the first time will fall under its spell immediately, and anyone who has only heard it with choir-and-solo-quartet will feel a sense of revelation when hearing it performed as originally written.

"Soft stillness and the night become the touches of sweet harmony."