Warhorses and Lullabies
Diana Damrau joined James Levine and the Met Orchestra at Carnegie Hall on Sunday afternoon for one of Levine’s typically overloaded – er, generous – orchestral feasts. But this deeply involving marathon of German warhorses rewarded those who would submit to its somber, festive intensity.
Performed by the full forces of the Met Orchestra, Schubert’s brooding yet lyrical “Unfinished” Symphony was a rich and robust starter. In the first movement, the dead calm of the cello and bass invocation gave way to hauntingly subdued woodwind melodies and shocking, violent sforzando outbursts from the full orchestra. Here and in the alternately bucolic and nightmarish Andante con moto, the Met Orchestra showed masterful restraint and patience that rendered this familiar music fresh and surprising.
A big bouquet of Strauss’ songs followed, with the German soprano Diana Damrau. She was also an exercise in brand-identity marketing, appearing onstage in the same multicolored, paint-by-numbers dress worn on the cover of her recent album Coloraturas. In “Das Bächlein” and “Ich wollt’ ein Sträusslein binden” I had to close my eyes to know if the bright gem tones I heard were the product of visual suggestion or of sound. Strauss’ orchestrations are lush but colorful, matching Damrau’s lithe, golden soprano.
She gave a deeply affecting performance of “Allerseelen,” in which her sensitive reading of the text sank harmoniously into a lyricism of sublime poignancy, and she revealed proud and bittersweet exclamations of “Habe Dank!” in the one-minute masterpiece “Zueignung.” (After these songs of unusually touching poise, Damrau and Levine seemed as affected by the performance as their rapt audience, briefly pausing to catch their breaths before proceeding with the set.)
After this high point, “Morgen!” suffered, if only slightly. Levine was perhaps too accommodating of his singer, and let the tempo pull apart and lose direction. Poor concertmaster David Chen, who played the work’s famous violin solos with beautiful sensitivity but must have felt like a third wheel chasing their rubati.
In “Ständchen” Damrau took the text “um Keinen vom Schlummer zu wecken” (“so as not to wake anyone”) literally, singing as if to draw her public into a chamber-music intimacy, but lost some presence in cavernous Carnegie Hall. The trick worked better in the lighter-scored “Wiegenlied,” a creepily transcendental cradle song. Damrau’s Strauss-survey ended with the oddball “Amor,” a song of operatic, dazzling coloratura and metaphysical text-imagery, inhabiting the poem with a Zerbinetta-like wink and smile.
The real Zerbinetta (in Ariadne auf Naxos) is one of Damrau’s most famous roles, and one she sang at the Met in 2005, though not with Levine conducting. Nevertheless, the two demonstrated familiarity and camaraderie onstage in the extended bravura scene Grossmächtige Prinzessin! Damrau sang with cavalier confidence and vocal ease through its toughest passages. Though her take on the sly comedienne may betray a tinge of kitsch — for instance when her repeated vocal trills indicate a timid and precious giddiness — but she sells it convincingly, striking poses that melded statuesque classicism and a kind of modern grotesquerie.
Musically, she is of the highest order. If her upper register is not a gentle, creamy sound, neither is it shrill – the vibrant but rounded timbre suggests rich ceramic or silver. Damrau’s artful command of this music roused the matinee audience to an ovation demanding a repeat of the concluding rondo. With this concert already running long, an encore of this sort didn’t at first seem like a good idea. But Damrau took this opportunity to ham around, climbing onto Levine’s podium, motioning to him at the words “Ein Gott!,” planting an improvised kiss on the cheek, and offering other amusing shtick that would have been a shame to miss.
After more bravos for the soprano, the tutti forces of the Met Orchestra reconvened for Beethoven, giving a powerful and urgent, if just a tad messy, performance of his Fifth Symphony in C minor. Levine jettisoned the first movement repeat, and worked over the well-known with exciting tempo retouchings, as in the coda of the second movement, and Schumannesque crescendos that brought our long, Teutonic saga to a fiery and brilliant summation.
‘“Wiegenlied,” a creepily transcendental cradle song.’
Sorry, but what’s creepy about Strauss’ Wiegenlied? Touching, certainly, but not creepy.
Well, in neither musicianship nor vocal quality has Damrau lived up to this description in any of the performances I have heard from her, with the exception of Aithra. She seems to have become the new wet dream *objet* for straight opera queens, in the manner if Bonney some years back.
But I was not at Carnegie, so…
IMO the most magical rendering the shimmering piano part in “Wiegenlied’ is that of Strauss himself, age 78, accompanying the glowing, moving if occasionally short-breathed Maria Reining.
Interesting to me as Aithra is the one role so far I have liked, as well.
Sorry. Why was it not announced that there was a competition to use the most adjectives per sqaure pixel anywhere on the internet, ever? The me from grade 5 Creative Writing class would have love to have entered.
I was also there… my impressions:
If your grandmother’s crazy quilt is missing, please know that Diana Damrau was wearing it today at Carnegie Hall. If Piet Mondrian and Roy Lichtenstein had co-designed a gown, this would have been it. Strapless, with a train and what appeared to be a bustle, it featured Mondrian-like grids of black filled with cartoonish colors.
I focus on her gown because her singing, at least the part that was audible, wasn’t that compelling. More about that in a moment.
The concert featured Ms. Damrau with the Met Opera Orchestra and opened with a beautiful account of Schubert’s 8th Symphony, The Unfinished. After 39 years, James Levine and the Met Orchestra work so well together and produced truly lovely music. The strings were rich (with first violins to his left and second violins to his right) with cellos and basses producing particularly rich sonorities.
Following the Schubert, Ms Damrau sang 8 Strauss songs:
Das Bachlein, Op 88, no 1
Ich wollt’ ein Sträusslein binden, Op 68, No 2
Allerseelen, Op 10, No 8
Zueignung, Op 10, No 1
Morgen!, Op 27, No 4
Ständchen, Op 17, No 2
Weigenlied, Op 41, No 1
Amor, Op 68, No 5
I was prepared to be blown away. As some of you know, I adore the lyric-coloratura voice type. The only song that left a lasting impression on me, though, was Morgen!, perhaps because it was the only sonmg in which her voice carried consistently over the orchestra; sitting in the upper balcony, she was frequently inaudible at less than forte. For instance, during the Wiegenlied, I didn’t realize that she had even begun singing the 3rd verse until half way through it. Through the first seven songs, I kept wishing for a more robust lyric soprano. The last song, Amor, is a coloratura showpiece, and while her trill is spectacular, her singing didn’t thrill. Following intermission, she sang Zerbinetta’s aria from Ariadne auf Naxos. Again, parts of the aria were inaudible. As for characterization, I don’t know the opera well enough to judge. It’s one of her most acclaimed roles, but to me, it could have been Cunegonde (the arch and hammy kind). The audience demanded an encore and she gave it, but rather than a different aria or song, she repeated the Zerbinetta, hammier, including Mr. Levine in her antics. The singing wasn’t bad, but I was definitely disappointed.
The concert (quite long at 2 hrs 40 mins) closed with Beethoven’s Symphony No 5 in C Minor, op 67. I must say that it was absolutely thrilling. Last year, I downloaded Josef Krips and the London Symphony Orchestra, a recording I love. And it is one of the most familiar pieces of music in the orchestral repertoire. And yet I was captivated, not only musically but visually as well; I watched from the edge of my seat throughout. The orchestra was stupendous, with all of the musical climaxes building inexorably (I paid a lot for that word, and dammit, I’m going to use it in a sentence!). I couldn’t help but be reminded how many composers were influenced by Beethoven. I could easily imagine Berlioz, Saen-Saëns, Paul Dukas, and even John Williams listening to this music and being inspired. The ovation was thunderous for both the orchestra and Mr Levine, and I only wish there had been an encore for them.
I was there, also in the upper balcony, and agree with your assessment. I think part of what made the 5th so thrilling for us is also what caused trouble in hearing Diana’s voice. There are some resonances in Carnegie in the upper balcony (I’ve never sat lower) that emphasize the bass range and make the overall sound huge and full. It’s like a stereo where somebody has turned up the bass. I love the way Carnegie sounds there but I’ve never heard another theater accentuate the bass as much as Carnegie does in the balcony.
While this can work great for orchestral music, the full and boosted low-range swamped Diana. Like you, “Morgen!” was the piece that I enjoyed the most. There was a conversation between Levine and Damrau, lasting almost a minute, before they started that song. Maybe something to the effect of trying to lower the orchestra’s level? I’d be very interested in hearing opinions of attendees who were sitting elsewhere.
I’ve also heard Damrau at the Met as Queen of the Night and she had no trouble filling the house. Something about the combination of the Carnegie balcony and the Met orchestra did not serve her well. The cut-down orchestra was a big improvement for her though.
The Fifth was a religious experience for me. Had me captivated and on the edge of my seat too! Right from the start, I was thinking, “Wow, this is something.” When those cellos and bass rip, that sound is immense. Glorious. The detail in the higher end is still present and the overall effect is wondrous. That final movement had the orchestra rocking. Listening to it I just wanted to stand up and cheer. And when they finished, I did.
Future orchestral performances, I’ll pick the balcony. But singers, I think I’ll try something lower. And I wish the NY Phil played there instead of Avery Fisher.
I must say, I was in the first row of the balcony and had no such issue hearing Ms. Damrau.
I’ve had problems hearing singers from the balcony ever since Carnegie Hall’s mid-90s renovation. The sound used to be perfect up there; now singers almost always get swamped by the orchestra. Their sound seems to have no center. I’m talking about singers like LHL, Mattila and Waltraud Meier, none of whom I’ve had trouble hearing in other venues.
Domingo has crossed over the fine line between tenor and baritone. He sounds like a baritone tonight! If I didn’t know who was singing, I would assume it’s a baritone.
I’m going to ask a question which sounds petty and/or impertinent, but it has bothered me for years, and if I’m ever going to get an informed response, this would be the place.
Do gays have real standards in matters of taste?
Maybe half of the last 20 posts have dealt with the unattractiveness of Damrau’s dress or Kaufmann’s mullet. Is wearing a belt with jeans really legitimately important? And why? There would seem to be a standard which the bulk of the personas here assembled accept but I can’t discern it. I’m basically an outsider and to me fashion follwos a predictable pattern; first it’s a big groundswell of “Plum Plum Plum,” but that changes in an instant to “Plum is for bagladies.” Is there a secret gay starchamber that meets twice a week to decide what is beautiful, the results of which are encoded on restroom walls in certain NYC locales?
I’ll even be so brash as to extend this to the casual acceptance of the statement that an upcoming “Carmen” in New Jersey cannot possibly have anything good about it because it’s twenty years old. WTF, who knows, Graves and Leech might really bring something to the show even if it’s only history.
Sorry, I have no gay friends, have never seen “Project Runway,” and wear a belt with my jean (I have only one pair, so they can’t be jeans.”
You’re obviously trolling for a fight, so I’ll just go ahead and call you a moron and you can call me one back.
Gay starchamber? Really? Restroom walls? Go have a meeting with the other trolls. Under the bridge, I guess. No gay friends? Shocking, wonder how it could have happened with love and tolerance radiating from you as they do.
Betsy-Ann, don’t I know you from another room under a different name? Ummmmm…..I wonder?
Meanwhile, if you are going to mess around with gay people you’d better keep on your toes. For example, I note that you seem to confuse the two
words ‘taste’ and ‘intelligence.’ They are not necessarily related, though it is often said that intelligence can ‘inform’ taste, and for all I know it can run the other way ’round. Not to be overly philosophical but I wonder what “Plum” has to do with what may be written on rest room walls, and why you are in there reading it all. Since the Dorset
Hotel was torn down, rest rooms aren’t what they used to be!
In fact, there are moments when I wonder why you are here reading what is written on these walls?
Let’s just treat these as rhetorical questions.
Firstly, thanks a bunch to SQUIRREL for his ever-entertainingly descriptive reviews which I always enjoy but in this instance, and based on my one-time impression of Fraulein Damrau, I have to give the palm to Mr. Sanford.
In my experience hearing this singer for the first time, and for whom I bore high hopes, she was nearly inaudible from second row orchestra in the War Memorial Opera House. I was told by a fellow parterrian that the acoustic in that part of the house was poor. Uh-huh. Sure. After years of opera-going I guess I know when I hear a voice that projects or not. It simply did not. Further, I found her to be all shiny surface and hype. It does not surprise me at all that she wore that DREADFUL gown, as it is a) provocative and b) tie-in with her CD.
Squirrel, you know I love you, but Mr. Sanford got this one right! Kudos to him.
P.S. “Creepily transcendent” is just about right!
FYI: I had no trouble hearing Damrau in Dress Circle at the War Memorial Opera House. (FWIW: I’ve never sat in 2nd row orchestra so I don’t know the acoustic in that part of the house.)
In my experience the worst spots in the house at the War Memorial, acoustically speaking are in the Orchestra section. Not the entire Orchestra section, but there do seem to be scattered dead zones. I remember a performance of The Ballad of Baby Doe in which I barely heard a sound that Ruth Ann Swenson made all night. Not something I have encountered in other parts of the house.
The best sound (for singers and the orchestra) is at the very top of the house. I heard Diana Damrau sing Marie in Fille du Regiment from up there about 5 times and had no trouble hearing her. She sounded great from the Grand Tier as well where I sat for one performance.
I will say that DD had some inaudible moments when I heard her sing Gilda at the Met last year. It seemed that perhaps she was saving her voice a bit? Then Caro Nome came and she blew it so far out of the park that it didn’t seem to matter…
ive had trouble hearing Zajick at the orchestra at the Met.
I agree with much of your #6, Camille. Damrau is too much of a show-off and cutesy for me – examples: the B.S. Met BARBIERE and Met LUCIA. I would have hated all that podium stuff with Levine at Carnegie. More alarmingly, in the Met LUCIA in particular, one could hear every breath she took, often louder than the phrase that followed. Singers at that level ought to have been trained out of such things.
Betsy_Ann, I’m not a gay man, but I find your bewilderment…well…bewildering.
1. I would assume that if a singer is draped in a rainbow and black, I’ve-written-a-letter-to-daddy quilt, then yes, it might be a little bit distracting from the point of the night, which is the music. Some things are just funny. This was an evaluation of a PERFORMANCE. You can’t expect our dear squirrel to have kept his beady little eyes closed throughout the whole thing. Oh no…he kept them firmly planted on the acorn (James Levine) and the singer.
2. So the fuck what? If it’s clever and intelligently written, even if a little catty, I’m all for it. I’ve learned a shite ton from the people here, kings and queens alike, and a lot of them are informed and funny as shit. I have to write down quotes so that I can remember to use them. They know that these singers–whatever their likes and dislikes–are good. They have to snipe about something to express cleverness. Must it be bitchy, you ask? You bet.
Let me ask you this…The funniest moments you remember with your friends, were you saying nice things and eating scones and being pleasant? No one wants to sit around four hours and say nice things. And no one wants to sit around for hours and read ONLY nice things. As long as it’s not mean-SPIRITED, then it’s wonderful and enjoyable.
3. Yea, I don’t get fashion, either. I’m with you there. But when someone can talk about it like it’s a Lichtenstein or a Mondrian or a Kandinsky or–God forbid–a Gainsborough, then I can appreciate that they do. And a lot of gay men like fashion. I don’t know how that could possibly surprise you. That’s because you don’t have gay friends.
4. I bet you DO have gay friends. You just don’t know it. I didn’t…and then I did. Unless you don’t have friends, in which case you do know it. But I don’t know. But if you’ve got more than, say, 15 friends, I know you’ve got a gay friend in there somewhere. You just don’t know. They know. And they know you don’t know. But you also don’t know that they know you don’t know they know. Know what I mean?
Dan: I love the double positives and the double negatives packed together in your second last sentence. That is is rather a remarkable feat and I admire it. Makes anyone reading it pay proper attention.
Thank you, Dan, for taking my question seriosuly. And thanks also to the others for pointing out the mean-spiritedness of my post. I take back the crudeness and the appearance of trolling. I’m not. I really want to know, “Who decides?”
The quote is attributed to William Holden and refers to the former head of Columbia Pictures who said he knew a picture was bad if he started squirming in his seat. “To think the world is wired to Harry Cohn’s ass.” Well, I’m pretty sure American politics is wired to Rupert Murdoch’s ass, and international diplomacy is wired to Osama Bin-Laden’s ass. To whom is gay taste wired? The concept has to come from somewhere that this dress is good and that dress is bad; that this haircut is good and that is bad; or, coming back to the original point — that a belt is not worn with jeans. Because taste can and does turn on a dime. Who decides?
WHO DECIDES? Good God, that easy–does the name ANNA WINTOUR ring a bell!!?????
Go see The Devil Wears Prada and The September Issue and you’ll not have to bring your style questions to this site.
REALLY
No bell. Who is she?
Anna Wintour was actually AT this performance – no kidding – in a center balcony box with some glamorous associates. What she thought of the dress was obviously the real story here.
It’s good i was not there, or I would have sprayed her fur coat. I intensely hate that woman.
Good god, it was a joke. Remember those?
Yes, “gay taste.” We all have exactly the same taste. Glad you got the point. Seriously?? Who determines your opinions?
“This… ‘stuff’? Oh… ok. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select out — oh, I don’t know — that lumpy blue sweater, for instance, because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise, it’s not lapis, it’s actually cerulean. You’re also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar De La Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves St Laurent, wasn’t it?, who showed cerulean military jackets? I think we need a jacket here. And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of 8 different designers. Then it filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic Casual Corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and so it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you’re wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room. From a pile of stuff.”
The Devil Wears Prada
That’s sucha great speech, but Meryl Streep really puts the cherry on top of that cake.
Yo DavidDude from DC!! Thanx a bunch! That’s the speech I had in mind when citing the Devil/Prada.
As far as style/fashion/ephemera et cetera ad nauseam is concerned — ahem — I do wonder what you all will be talkin’ about when Miuccia Prada makes her MET debut in March? Style does matter — especially, for those proud souls that exult in their personal slovenliness — these ‘stylists’ defend themselves more vociferously than the maddest maven of fashion. I married one of those people, so I have heard every imaginable excuse!
ON ANOTHER NOTE:
Do any of you Britishers plan to attend the Scottish Opera production of Prokofiev’s ‘War and Peace’, to be given in Glasgow and apparently done for the first time in the original, as the composer intended? Anyone heard anything?
Thanks again to DaveDC for illustrating my thought.
Squirrel, I was there as well, and think you may be overrating her a bit. I just don’t quite “get” her. Her voice has no distinction to me; it’s anonymous, if technically impressive. By the way, “ceramic” is such a wonderful characterization to me, although I’d drop the “rich.”
Squirrel, as a rabid and blind fan, I approve immensely of your overly laudatory review. Please kill me for using laudatory in a sentence.
I loved Wiegenlied. Made my heart palpitate.
PS. Who cares if the dress is an eyesore? It’s the chick inside that radiates beauty! Inner beauty. Better stop gushing.. born-again Gerryflapper/diva-stalker..
to continue this conversation over one of my favorite sopranos… here’s Damrau’s version of Amina’s last scene:
Brilliant, especially the cabaletta, but it sounds like a lot of hard work. For me “Ah non credea” has to be more “sleepy” in mood. She gets really forceful sometimes at the top of phrases and breaks the line. I just don’t find her as effective in Italian bel canto.
do you think she should stick to german roles or do you think she should move on and develop her italian bel canto?
I think she is a German soprano true and true. Her bel canto is what it is, and I am sure she will continue to get great acclaim for it, but I don’t think it will ever have the naturalness of performers who have a real affinity for the style. Some of it is training, some of it is culture, and some of it has to do with what the voice can naturally do. No matter how much Fleming fancies herself a bel cantista, her glory lies with Mozart and Strauss.
The two aren’t mutually exclusive, surely? Gueden could be lovely in Italian rep and she was an archetypal viennese soprano.
I thought the “Ah, non credea” showed a decent sense of bel canto style. She’s no Scotto or Callas, true, but she handles the line better than Gruberova, Dessay, or Bartoli do. My point ultimately being that she shows a fine musical sensitivity that does the music justice.