Week of November 15 - 22, 2003
By Truman
C. Wang DURING my five years of living in Southern California, I am continually amazed at the richness and quality of the arts scene here. The opening of the new Walt Disney Concert Hall last month catapulted the former “La-La Land” to the elite firmament of world’s cultural capitals. This official recognition has been a long time in coming, but having lived in So Cal all these years (pace my friends up north), I think it’s long overdue. Whether or not monies will be pouring into the arts has yet to be seen, but everywhere, arts organizations are reporting brisk tickets sales and increased attendance, even on traditionally club- and bar-hopping Saturday nights – proving that Mozart and Motown can co-exist harmoniously.
Great singing was the theme of last week – a quartet of concerts celebrating the glory of the human voice. The first, Polish contralto (yes, a genuine contralto!) Ewa Podleś gave a rousing, if not altogether successful, recital at La Jolla's Sherwood Auditorium, as part of the San Diego Opera’s 2002-2003 Celebrity Recital Series. It’s a deep, ample voice that projects powerfully and soars thrillingly, even with the piano lid fully raised. In a red Roman toga, Ms. Podleś struck the pose of a belcanto high priestess, intoning melismas and coloraturas with the forcefulness of an operatic warrior. In a selection ranging from 17th-Century bravura arias to late 19th-Century romantic ballads, the visceral excitement of the singing was every bit as memorable as its tender shades of emotions. Ms. Podleś animated, aspirating style of delivery may take a while to get used to, and her earthy, grayish, however smooth, timbre may not be to all tastes. In general, I found her more convincing in the dark, romantic songs of Chopin and Rachmaninov than in the lighter numbers by Rossini and Vivaldi, which would have benefited from a younger, brighter voice. Pianist Ania Marchwinska supplied all the coloristic nuances that Ms. Podleś, for all her technical prowess, lacks in the voice.
The Los Angeles Master Chorale (www.lamc.org), renowned for its luminous dark sound and adventurous programming, put on a splendid opening night gala at the new Walt Disney Concert Hall, an architectural and acoustical marvel. Equally at home in 10th-Century plainchant as well as in the jazzy rhythms of Bobby McFerrin, the Master Chorale filled the new hall with a breathtaking canvass of sound. Music Director Grant Gershon led a dizzying, energetic account of John Adams’ Harmonium (written in 1981, inspired by an Emily Dickinson poem), with the Los Angeles Master Chorale Orchestra providing powerhouse support. I had a chance to trek through the unfinished hall before its October opening. Despite a few unpainted walls with bare plasters, and a partially open roof, the sightline and sonic balance were already near-perfect from anywhere in the house. The Disney Hall’s steely, stainless exterior belies the great charms that lie within – the inviting terrace garden, the warm Southwestern-style carpeting and upholstery designed by Gehry in honor of Lillian ('Lilli') Disney, and the escalator that transports concert-goers to L.A.’s new Valhalla of music. It is more than a building. It’s an experience. Serge Rachmaninoff’s dramatic Vespres (Op. 37) calls for a level of choral singing that is beyond the lesser church choirs. The whole cycle freely mixes Gregorian chant with Russian and Greek melodies in its 15 separate numbers. Appropriately, its modal harmonies recall the great cathedral of the Kremlin, where St. Petersburg Capella (then simply known as Capella) gave their first performance in 1479. UCLA (www.uclalive.org) marked the final stop of U.S. tour for Russia’s oldest choir, who gave an ardent, transcendent performance of the Vespers. Unlike its Western counterparts, the Russian choral ensemble boasts many singers of soloist calibre, and their unique arrangement of basses in the front, flanked by sopranos and tenors in upper tiers further accentuates the Capella’s black, Slavic sound. The deep, rolling basses, the supple-as-silk sopranos, the plangent tenors –all fused to produce a rich tapestry of sound – quietly glowing in soft passages, and grandly overpowering in tuttis.
Anna Netrebko, depending on whom you ask, is either the Anna Kournikova of opera or the whirlwind diva du jour from the Steppes – leaving one breathless with her sensational coloratura. I have not heard her new CD (“Operatic Arias”), but was present at her San Francisco Opera debut in 1995, in Glinka’s “Ruslan and Lyudmila” (Gergiev conducted the overture like he was on Speed). All I can remember of the cast was a raven-haired Russian beauty whose radiant, gleaming voice stood out from the pack, bewitching the audience with her crystalline trills and coloratura – already an assured actress at 24.
Fast-forward eight years. Anna today sounds every bit as beguiling as ever, in Los Angeles Opera’s Lucia di Lammermoor. What with belcanto coaching from Renata Scotto, and the natural maturing of the voice over the years, Anna’s voice has acquired more volume in the lower reaches of the register, and her acting appeared even more spontaneous and natural. Her singing in the duet with Edgardo was full of Italian sunshine, with nary a trace of Slavic accent to cloud Lucia’s joy. Subsequently, in the duet with Enrico, and the Mad Scene that followed, we witnessed a fully matured actress in total command of her craft, for whom singing was a natural extension of her stage persona. The rapid runs and roulades were not for vain vocal display, but a mirror reflection of Lucia’s fragile and rapidly deteriorating mental state. “Spargi d’amaro pianto” was unleashed with such a vehemence and anger that made Lucia’s descent into madness all the more pitiful. Could Anna’s Violetta be not far away? I can’t wait.
Lest one think there was no other good singer in this “Lucia”, I would hasten to add that Spanish tenor José Bros gave a thrilling, ringing account of Lucia’s ill-fated lover Edgardo. Italian baritone Franco Vassallo’s Enrico, Lucia’s cruel brother, was also outstanding, so were Vitalij Kowaljow’s sympathetic Raimondo, Javier Cortes’ sinister, Iago-like Normanno, and Margaret Thompson’s fine Alisa. Julius Rudel is a singer’s conductor par excellence, and opted for slow, but not dragging, tempos full of dramatic accents and tensions. The rousing Sextet sent the audience to the intermission all beaming and smiling. It was a great night at the opera, and a great
week of vocal thrills.
Truman C. Wang is editor of Classical Voice, whose articles have appeared in the San Gabriel Valley Tribune, the Pasadena Star-News and other Southern California publications.
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