#73 baroque goodness

I have been listening to two albums of the Baroque genre, showcasing two technically accomplished and aurally extrovert performers of dare I say it, the same fach, namely Joyce DiDonato and Simone Kermes. Miss DiDonato may identify herself as a mezzo-soprano, but what I hear in her voice is a short soprano, of the same ilk as Frederica von Stade, Magdalena Kožená and the early Cecilia Bartoli (the post-milennium Bartoli is another monster altogether). And that's okay in my books, I love these type of singers. There's always something very heart-aching in their voices - to be technical, this is because their vibrato rates are rapid, flickering, so you'd never mistake it for an instrument the way more seasoned Baroque performers like say, Vivica Genaux and Simone Kermes herself, can be.

Miss DiDonato's Drama Queens is a respectable effort. Alan Curtis leads the Complesso Barocco: they are known quantities. As is often nowadays in fashionable Baroque compilations, this album includes world premiere recordings such as Madre diletta, abbriacciami from Giovanni Porta's Ifigenia in Aulide and rarities like Keiser's Fredegunda and Octavia excerpts. The album opens with Da torbida procella from Orlandini's Berenice, a spitfire of an aria. Miss DiDonato's timbre, with that slightly acerbic edge, helps her especially with the text. On the other hand one often finds her voice swamped under the orchestration (surprising, considering she's singing Strauss' Composer and Octavian to rave reviews) and when she pulls the straight voice it sounded almost jarring. The coloratura holds no terror for her, but I notice she performs slightly better in the middle voice compared to her upper range, consistent with many observations that her topmost notes are not of the same quality as they used to be.

I find the Giulio Cesare in Egitto excerpt to be wanting. There are stretches when the vibrato simply vanished from the voice and we're left with a wisp of a voice. Cleopatra is an empress not a lady-in-waiting: her grieve should have been gigantic, awe-inspiring, not simply human. The middle section, while fury-laden enough, is not in the same class as Kermes' version in her Cuzzoni tribute album. Another Cleopatra-inspired piece, Hasse's Morte, col fiero aspetto is miles better, with Miss DiDonato's voice climbing up and up as if challenging her passagio to a duel. Her mini-cadenza, before the coda, is also very beautiful.

Miss DiDonato seems to have a preference for the Porta aria. While I find her approach to the siciliana wonderful, I find her most delectable, however, in Intorno all'idol mio, a very famous piece included in the Arie antiche collection. There is a powerful moment when her straight voice is employed to implore the wind to bring her kisses to her estranged lover. The recitative in the middle is exemplary work, and her final Addio's are heart-wrenching. I do believe she sustains a 30-second F# piano at the end of the piece.

On to Miss Kermes. Opening her album Dramma is an excerpt from De Majo's Arianna e Teseo. One hears a strange trick: as if the orchestra is playing over the phone, or from an old phonograph, before cresting in a wonderful forte. What a clever duck! I don't know whether it's better balance, equipment, acoustics or player spacing, but I find the sound from La magnifica comunità to be more aurally persuasive than that of Il complesso barocco. For example, the introduction to Le limpid'onde is absolutely atmospheric I expected to hear chirping birds and rushing brooks every time I hear it.

The Kermes instrument may be a controversial one - especially live - but her album efforts are always worthwhile, and I always find it very surprising when a very slender timbre such as hers can find the coloration for example, in Tace l'augello from Porpora's L'Agrippina, and the famous Rinaldo piece Lascia ch'io pianga. For coloratura-fanciers, Miss Kermes does not disappoint in arias like Vedra turbato il mare, where her downward runs figure very wonderfully. In Sul mio cor, one finds her defying gravity with octave leaps and excursion into chest voice, all within the first four measures of her entrance.

That is not to say Dramma is a perfect essay. One finds the timbre to be a bit blanche and jarring. On the other hand it is no less expressive. The top notes can sometimes sound glassy, shrill-ish even. But the larger picture remains intact, that Dramma is a wonderful album and worthy of any Baroque fans' shelves.

#62 the enchanted island audio stream review

Daniels vs DiDonato (hint: TEAM SYCORAX!!)

Happy New Year!

First off, the two main characters: Prospero and Sycorax. David Daniels had long been a very important counter--tenor, if not in Europe then in the Americas, so I was prepared to give a leeway. His tone was still gorgeous as long as it remained within his mid-high register; everywhere else and it's a hit-or-miss situation. His coloratura is laboured, and some of his figures were 'spattered'. He attempted large leaps (à la Horne) but these largely failed. His diction is still exemplary among counter-tenors though, and I think his is the only counter-tenor who is able to make his nuances heard at the Met without over-stretching himself.

On the other hand Joyce DiDonato is a pleasure to hear to. Her voice had gained in edge and overdrive which she used effectively in her coloratura, suggesting 'rage' and 'vengeance'. Her diction was the best, followed very closely by Danielle's Ariel, and this considering aria, scene and recitative works. Her over-driven chest voice sounded rather un-Orthodox, even extreme at times, but it was all to serve the drama. THE DRAMA!!



Danielle De Niese' Ariel was at times pleasant to hear. Like the current Daniels, hers is an instrument best enjoyed within certain limits: not too high, not too low, not too fast. When going too high the instrument break out into the infamous 'glare' now well-known to her audiences. When too fast her coloratura becomes smudged and almost illiterate, however that's happily a rare occasion in this outing. Dani's recitative works was also very impressive, she certainly knew how to play with the accents and the rhythm of the speech.

Luca Pisaroni presented a dilemma: a fascinating, rich instrument incapable of movement. His cantabile is wonderful but his passage-work is frankly a mess.

Lisette Oropesa's Miranda was interesting, but lacking in style. Even Dani was at least entrenched in the Handelian mode. I suspect Oropesa may do better in bel canto setting, probably as La sonnambula's Lisa.

Layla Claire's instrument sounds similar to Danielle's, which sometimes confused me because her line is much cleaner! She had a genuine trill, albeit for two seconds only (the best trill of the night belongs to Joyce, in a passage-work no less!).

Anthony Roth Costanzo's Ferdinand suffered from the dread wooble. What is happening with today's counter-tenors? Maybe it's the 'prima' nerves, but it's sad because it's a very beautiful instrument.

The lovers' quartet (tenor Paul Appleby as Demetrius, soprano Layla Claire as Helena, baritone Elliot Madore as Lysander, and especially mezzo Elizabeth DeShong as Hermia) was amusingly enchanting. Their entrance quartet was wonderful, though later another quartet suffers from 'over-Romanticism' i.e. too much vibrato for Baroque voicing. Elizabeth DeShong's Hermia was especially impressive: she was given Dejanira's mad scene from Handel's Hercules, and there she was singing, with Joyce DiDonato, the premier exponent of Dejanira, in the wings, and she kicked the ball out of the park! Mr. Madore's baritone was gorgeous, and his passage-work while maintaining the theme of 'male singers can't do runs' was cleaner than Pisaroni. I cannot be cruel to someone named Appleby, but I don't need to because Mr. Appleby was amazing! His messa di voce was quite wondrous.

And Domingo. I had a suspicion there's a clause somewhere in his contract saying "No A's or above". His was the richest timbre of the cast, I'd give him that, and what he lacked in style he certainly made up with tons and tons of morbidezza and sheer balls.

William Christie's conducting, more at home in Baroque music, was wonderful, keeping up to pace in the virtuosic parts while maintaining an airy souciance at slower and mid-tempo sections. I had a theory that the Met plays better Baroque when the tempo is slower, because at allegro or faster the runs and figures sounded robotic and bloodless. It's really hard to explain but I think it's because at slower tempi when the strings are allowed to sing, the orchestra really comes to its own. The chorus was magnificent, tons better than the Bolena run definitely. The ballet-masque music, adapted from Rameau, was wonderful, especially the strings and the bassoons - just delicious. Generally the music is better when it's adapted from Handel, as compared to perhaps Vivaldi. Rameau's genius was his ballet pieces just sounded good no matter if the orchestra is not really a ballet-oriented orchestra.

The English libretto was quite good, though at times I do wish they'd stick with the Shakespearean mentality instead of giving quasi-street parlance vibes. Case in point: Prospero's "To save my girl from heartbreak", can't they substitute "girl" with "daughter", just divide the beat into a dotted eighth and a sixteenth. Ah well.

All in all, 4.25 out of 5. A well-deserved turn for Baroque music at the greatest opera house of the world, at last.