Tag: English National Opera

November Reading List: Money, Morals, Curiosity, & Remembrance

On November 27, 2024

In Berlin, classical, Europe, festival, London, music, opera, remembrance, writing

Amidst waterfalls of bad news, a busy personal work schedule, poor health, and crushingly low moods, this autumn has often felt like a very long swim uphill, through maple syrup, in the dark. Music helps, of course, but sometimes so do people, or more specifically, the energy of meaningful exchanges. Sometimes those conversations lead to new discoveries, for one or both parties, cultural or otherwise; sometimes they can also trigger rediscoveries.

Lately I have been diving into my mother’s extensive vinyl collection, specifically the recordings of various Puccini operas. 2024 marks 100 years since the composer’s passing, and a number of organizations have been marking the occasion, including Teatro Alla Scala, Opera Australia, and the Pacific Music Festival. In a list for Gramophone in early October, music writer Mark Pullinger names ten defining moments within Puccini’s operatic presentation history and includes now-famous broadcasts and productions, some of which sit in my vinyl collection (including the famous Maria Callas/Tosca, natch). This week, amidst grading and emails, I found myself stopping to marvel anew at Luciano Pavarotti’s “Che gelida manina”, from the famous Karajan-led recording of La bohème done at Jesus-Christus-Kirche, Berlin in 1972 and also featuring Mirella Freni as Mimi. Whew.

Puccini wonderment aside, this is woefully late list of things to read, watch, ponder. More is coming soon, including many fascinating interviews for 2025. Until then:

Nominations for the 67th annual GRAMMY® Awards were announced on November 8th; among the nominees is Deutsche Grammophon recording of Adriana Mater by Kaija Saariaho, released earlier this year. The Esa-Pekka Salonen-led recording featuring the San Francisco Symphony received two nominations, Best Opera Recording and Best Contemporary Classical Composition; I interviewed the opera’s leads (Fleur Barron, who sings the titular Adriana and Axelle Fanyo as Adriana’s sister Refka) earlier this autumn. The awards will be handed out February 2nd in Los Angeles.

Adriana Mater, San Francisco Symphony, Peter Sellars, Esa-Pekka Salonen, Kaija Saariaho, music, classical, drama, theatre, Fleur Barron

Fleur Barron in the 2023 San Francisco Symphony presentation of Adriana Mater by Kaija Saariaho. Photo: Brittany Hosea-Small

English National Opera (ENO) recently announced programming for their new locale in Manchester. Einstein on the Beach by Philip Glass and an in-concert performance of Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte are part of the lineup, which errs heavily to new(ish) work. Music writer Richard Bratby salutes the company’s ambition but still has some (rather convincing) reservations. (“English National Opera’s Manchester plan shows flair but it’s still a mess“, The Times, 21 November). He highlights a vital point amidst ENO’s many challenges and its recent move, namely “how does Opera North fit into this brave new world where ENO rules the roost in Manchester? Or does it?” Indeed.

Some of the other points Bratby raises highlight the findings of a recent report by Opera America about newcomers to opera. The study, conducted between 2020 and 2024, surveyed 11,000 attendees across 36 various-sized companies in the United States. It turns out (well well, shock shock) newcomers mostly come for the tried-and-true operas of yore (i.e. the Aidas, Carmens, Traviatas) and that, quite encouragingly, they’ve investigated what they’re about to see a little bit beforehand; what mostly prevents a return is ticket prices. (“Understanding Opera’s New Audiences“, Opera America, 21 November).

A report released earlier this month from the UK-based Sutton Trust pinpoints class as a prime reason for lack of representation in the arts. Among the many suggestions for creating greater equity within the cultural world: banning unpaid internships lasting more than four weeks. HUZZAH. (“Young working-class people being ‘blocked’ from creative industries, study finds“, Nadia Khomani, The Guardian, 13 November)

Kosky, director, Komische Oper Berlin, portrait, Intendant, Berlin

Photo: Jan Windszus Photography

Budget cuts to Berlin’s vibrant arts scene have recently been announced. Among the most dramatic: the planned renovation of Komische Oper Berlin’s historic Behrenstrasse theatre has been put on hold for two years (supposedly), after various levels of government – namely Senator for Culture Joe Chialo and Mayor Kai Wegner – had made assurances that very thing would not happen. Former Intendant Barrie Kosky wrote a passionate open letter in Tagesspiegel underlining the theatre’s significant Jewish history. Current KOB Managing Director Susanna Moser told music writer Axel Brueggemann in a podcast that she learned of the grim news in the newspaper. She added that she’s keeping her faith intact for a positive resolution. (“Ich gebe mehr nicht die Kugel“, Backstage Classical, 24 November).

Brueggemann had himself tried getting an interview with Chialo, only to be repeatedly stonewalled by assistants. The Senator for Culture did give an interview to FAZ; Brueggemann has nicely summarized his thoughts therein, which include a move toward long-needed structural changes, the development of corporate partnerships, and higher ticket prices. Eeeeek. (“Joe Chialo verteidigt Berlin-Einsparungen“, Backstage Classical, 27 November)

Opern News reporter Stephan Burianek has written a very thorough article about bass Ildar Abdrazakov’s now-cancelled appearance in the Teatro San Carlo production of Don Carlo set to open January 19th. The Russian artist and ardent Putin supporter may shriek victimhood (and receive much public/collegial sympathy) but there’s equal merit to considering that Abdrazakov was, to use a Russian saying, trying to sit on two chairs at once. The question of funding sources does remain relevant, more than ever (see above) and it’s fortifying to see those sources being more thoroughly investigated; Burianek has, thankfully, brought the receipts. (“Eine Bürde für den Anstand“, Opern News, 19 November)

Read/hear the word “reimagined” within the opera world lately and one tends to hold one’s breath (especially given the reimagining/political censoring/total remake of Schnittke’s Life With An Idiot recently in Zurich) – but La Carmencita, happening next month in New York City, intrigues. The Spanish-language translation of Bizet’s famous opera is being recontextualized here through a Latin American lens, courtesy of soprano/producer Sasha Gutiérrez, director Rebecca Miller Kratzer, and GRAMMY®Award-winning bassist/composer Pedro Giraudo. The Opera Next Door production runs for one night only, on 6 December, at the David Rubinstein Auditorium, Lincoln Center; admission is free.

More immediately: Four Note Opera, presented by Nederlandse Opera Studio, takes place tomorrow in Groningen as part of the city’s wide-ranging Sounds Of Music Festival. The satirical 1972 work by Tom Johnson indeed uses only four notes together with five soloists and a pianist; Dutch National Opera first presented the unusual opera earlier this year in a co-production with the Nederlandse Reisopera and Opera Zuid.

Also tomorrow: a tribute to the late, great Benjamin Luxon is taking place at Wigmore Hall (London) at noon. The Cornish baritone died in July at the age of 87, having enjoyed a varied career encompassing lieder, oratorio, opera, ballads, folk songs, as well as work in television. In a remembrance published in August in The Guardian, music writer Barry Millington praised Luxon’s “burnished baritone, genial personality and seemingly effortless vocal projection”. Tomorrow’s tribute will include a host of British music luminaries including Sir Bryn Terfel, Dame Janet Baker, and Sir Thomas Allen, and the event will be livestreamed from the Hall.

In closing: composer Pavel Karmanov passed away on November 23rd; the Siberia-born composer was 54. Along with being a composer, pianist, and flutist, as well as a hugely influential teacher and music figure, Karmanov was a member of the rock band Vezhlivy Otkaz from 2000 until 2017. This performance of Karmanov’s 1993 composition “Birthday Present For Myself”, recorded in Paris in 2014, feels particularly right (not least because my own birthday happens in a little over two weeks) – the work bears traces of Debussy, Glass, and Silvestrov:

Until next time: stay warm, stay home if you’re sick, and remember the c-word.

Brindley Sherratt: “Use The Whole Voice”

By Catherine Kustanczy

On July 29, 2019

In interviews, opera, voice

Brindley Sherratt as Sarastro in the 2019 Glyndebourne Festival production of Die Zauberflöte. (Photo: Bill Cooper)

Like many in Europe right now, Brindley Sherratt is trying to stay cool. I chatted with the English bass in the middle of a brutal (and record-breaking) heatwave, where he spoke to me from his residence in Sussex, a two-hour drive south of London. “It’s not so bad… but it’s still 35C!” he said. “I have a huge fan on my desk here.”

Sherratt came to singing relatively late – his mid-late 30s – and, as he told The Times last year, missed out on the young artist training programs and thus “I consider myself about 50 years behind my colleagues in some respects.” This later start might work against some singers, but with Sherratt, it’s quite the opposite; the circumstances offer a gravitas that’s hard to miss onstage. His is an even-keeled, confident presence; he doesn’t make a big show of things vocally or physically, because he doesn’t have to. I experienced his darkly brooding Hunding earlier this year as part of a partial in-concert presentation of Die Walküre with the Sir Andrew Davis and the Toronto Symphony Orchestra (the opera’s first half was performed) during which he sung alongside Simon O’Neill’s Siegmund and Lise Davidsen’s Sieglinde, in a rich display of vocal dramatism shot through with relentless drive. At the time, I wrote about Sherratt’s performance as being “less outwardly murderous than inwardly brewing, an avuncular if charismatic figure of quiet intensity” and I think that’s a good way to describe him artistically; Sherratt is possessed of a quiet intensity, in both manner and – especially – in voice. (It’s a quality that also makes him a great villain.) His is one of those warm, enveloping sounds that does so much more than merely honk or bellow, but offers sonorous drama and clear delivery. Quite the combination.

Photo: Sussie Ahlburg

Despite the late start, Sherratt has enjoyed a busy career with appearances on both sides of the Atlantic (Metropolitan Opera, Brooklyn Academy of Music, Lyric Opera Chicago; Teatro Real de Madrid, Opernhaus Zürich, Wiener Staatsoper), with a concentration of work in the U.K. (Garsington Opera, BBC Proms, Royal Opera House, English National Opera, Welsh National Opera, Opera North), performing a diverse array of repertoire, including the villainous Claggart in Billy Budd, Arkel in Pelléas et Mélisande, Judge Turpin in Sweeney Todd, Fiesco in Simon Boccanegra, Gremin in Eugene Onegin, Geronte di Ravoir in Manon Lescaut, Trulove in The Rake’s Progress, Pogner in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg, and Fafner in Siegfried, a role he’s set to reprise in concert with the London Philharmonic in 2020.

Currently Sherratt is performing as Sarastro, in a Barbe & Doucet production of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute) at the Glyndebourne Festival, a venue in which he’s performed frequently over the years; he appeared in both Der Rosenkavalier (as Baron Ochs) and Pelléas et Mélisande (as Arkel) there last summer. In the autumn, he’s scheduled to sing the role of the ghostly Commendatore in Don Giovanni at Royal Opera House Covent Garden. In our recent wide-ranging chat, he shared fascinating insights on the distinct joys of Mozart, Mussorgsky, and Strauss, the differences performing in big and small houses, and the ways he’s kept his in voice in tip-top shape. Sherratt is also, it must be noted, one of the most down-to-earth people I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with, which makes his brewing onstage presence all the more fascinating.

How are things in Glyndebourne?

It’s fifteen minutes away from my house, so it’s a local gig for me. We’ve only lived down here five years, even before then it was always my favorite place to work, because it feels like family. The setting is amazing, and I’ve been in good productions. The house is the perfect size; it’s not too big. You don’t feel you need to shout your head off the whole time. The acoustic is great. And, I know everybody. It feels like home.

You recently marked your 100th performance as Sarastro. A lot of singers I talk to say Mozart is like a massage for the voice.

It is. Precisely. If I can sing Sarastro well, with legato and simply – not signing loud – if I can do this, then I know I’m in good shape. Because at my age and everything, you can just end up doing loud all the time.

It’s what a lot of basses do.

Yes but Mozart is really a balm for my voice, and good discipline too. People might think, “Oh, it’s just another Sarastro” – no. If you want to do it well, with really good line, and make it beautiful, then you have to offer something else. It can take me a couple weeks just to pare things down a bit – you don’t have to bellow; it’s just brushing through voice. We’ve done a few shows now. I haven’t really sang anything lately; after Billy Budd (as John Claggart) I took a month off for holidays, and then I did (Die Zauberflöte),. Now my voice feels in the best shape it’s felt for ages, fresh and bubbly. I keep thinking, “Oh, this is nice!”

The 2019 Glyndebourne production of Die Zauberflöte. (Photo: Bill Cooper)

I spoke with Barbe and Doucet about the production, and they agreed there’s a fun element to the opera, but they were keen to bring this interesting feminist history into it, which is interesting. Have you worked with them before?

No never, but you know it’s really interesting how they superimpose this story about the Sacher Hotel and Escoffier and such. It’s clever what they’ve done.

You had done this role earlier this year, in English, with the English National Opera.

You know my career started late – I started when I was about 36, 37, so I had to squeeze an awful lot in the last ten or fifteen years, and I did my first Sarastro at the ENO in 2004, and I learned that translation, but what was distressing and surprising was the fact it was a whole new translation this time, and I couldn’t get this new one in my head. I kept coming out with great chunks of the old one, which was funny and a bit alarming for everybody in the cast. I’d done that production, by (Simon) McBurney, twice before. I remember him saying in rehearsals, “Remember, Mozart was a genius, but Schikaneder wasn’t!” Sarastro is so difficult to play – there’s no journey. Whatever production (of Die Zauberflöte) I’m in, I bring my own human approach to the role.

Gennady Rozhdestvensky conducting his final concert in Japan, 2017. (via)

You’re also set to perform as Pimen (in Boris Godunov) at Bayerisches Staatsoper next year.

I’ve sung (the role) three times now. It’s amazing music, I love it; Mussorgsky gives you lots of time and space as a singer. The first time I did it years ago was in English, in a new production with Ed Gardner at the ENO. In a way it was good for me; I got to know the measure of the part, and in my own language. The next time I did it in Russian, and it was with an entire cast of Russians, with Rozhdestvensky conducting, and that was terrifying. Oh my God! It was sheer luck I did my first one in Russian with him – honestly, just terrifying! At the end of the first week, he said, “Can I say to you, Pimen has 888 words and 868 of yours are really great.” And he also said, “I love you as an artist.” That was the first positive thing anybody had said to me all week, and I thought, “Well! I’m okay then!”

I was scheduled to sing (Pimen) in Munich back in 2014; after about day four of rehearsal, my throat started to feel strange, and I thought, “What’s this?!” Then my voice went… boom. The day before the sitzprobe I really could barely speak and I thought, “Oh, not now!” – and that was to be my debut in Munich. And the next day I couldn’t sing a note – not a note. I went to see the voice guy and he said, “I think you’re coming down with something. You won’t be singing it first night, everything is congested.” So I went home, because the next show was five days or so later. I never went back. I had such terrible bronchitis, and I couldn’t sing a note. So that was an abortive debut. They asked me to do it again in 2017 and I was busy, so this is the third time lucky – I get to do Pimen in Munich, finally!

Brindley Sherratt as Sarastro in the 2019 Glyndebourne Festival production of Die Zauberflote. (Photo: Bill Cooper)

I was speaking with a singer recently who noted the differences between big and small houses, and the aspects of singing in each of them. There is this assumption that because you’re a bass you can just sing loud.

I sort of feel Glyndebourne is wonderful that way – because, for instance, I did Billy Budd about five or six years ago in there, and I don’t like doing loud roles in a house that size. If I’m going to do big music, I like a big house; you can just chuck your voice out there. There is always a feeling in a smaller house that it’s a bit much. But with the big house, for me it’s about clarity, not the amount of muscle you put on it. I’ve been in rehearsal with voices and thought, “Wow, the room is shaking here,” but onstage it’s a different ball game because it’s just the clarity that makes you carry over in the big house. I’m slowly learning.

When I started to do bigger roles in the opera house the feedback was, “Oh, your voice isn’t big enough for the house,” so I tried singing everything really, really loud, and my voice got too heavy, too thick, and I lost the top, so I went back to the drawing board and thought, “No, I don’t want to go this route, I’ll have a short career,” so I reworked, things, kept the vocalise going, and tried to keep as much sound in the head as I can. If I listen to people I admire, like Furlanetto. At 69 his voice has so much ring on it. He sings huge, but it’s beautiful, and that’s my goal: I want to make it clear, and so that it means something rather than just standing there like, “Listen to me!”

You’ll be going back to The Met – a very big house indeed – a few times next season, doing Bartolo in Le nozze di Figaro.

They said, “Come do Bartolo” and I thought, it’s nine performances in a month – yes, I’ll do that, and I do like being in NYC. When you go onstage and see the space, you think, “Oh I’ve really got to honk!” Now I realize it’s more about the ping on your voice than anything else. You’ve got to keep it clear, then you’re fine.

Brindley Sherratt in rehearsal for the 2019 Glyndebourne Festival production of Die Zauberflöte. Photo: Richard Hubert Smith © Glyndebourne Productions Ltd.

Like we said, Mozart is a good massage for the voice. But you mentioned something a while ago about the importance of coaching…

I was chatting to Gerry Finley at the time, saying, “I’m not singing right, I’m not happy with this” and he said, “Go see Gary (Coward) for a few sessions.” Gary was a singer in the chorus in the ENO for years. I sang a few things for him and he said, “There’s nothing wrong at all, you just got a bit thick and heavy,” so he prescribed some vocalise – singing just over the middle of the voice, never singing loud, and I just worked that into my routine, and I got it back, and I sang the St. Matthew Passion arias, and a lot of Handel. I still do, just to keep the flexibility going and the voice moving. I’ve noticed it, certainly with basses: there’s this assumption you don’t need to warm up that much. But I do quite a bit – I can’t abide going out there and just “AHHH!” I want to still be able to sing the Matthew Passion arias. That’s what I did to get my voice back on track. Just to keep the head voice going, and the flexibility.

Yours is a very flexible voice; it’s one of the things I noticed first in hearing you.

My voice just gets into this “uhhhhh” rut if i don’t do it. I did Ochs (from Der Rosenkavalier) at Glyndebourne, and that was a role where people said, “You’re not an Ochs! You’re the wrong voice; you’re the wrong shape” – but you know that (role) really helped my voice hugely, because it’s all moving around, it goes up to F-sharp and down to C. That was a period when I was singing the best I’ve ever sung; everything had to be there every night and it was, vocally. It was almost like Mozart, really. I said to my agent, “I want to do this a lot, while I still can.” It’s nice to have that fun on stage. John Tomlinson said to me, “Do as many Ochs as you can – do the happy roles, the fun roles; that way you can sing them all again when you get old, because you won’t be stuck with low stuff, stuck in one position. ” Use the whole voice, up and down; that’s really important to me.

What about lied?

Tomorrow I’ve got an afternoon with Julius Drake. He came, bizarrely, to Billy Budd and the Ring I did, and Alice Coote – she’s an old friend – had said to him, “Hey, work with Brindley” so he said to me recently, “Come to my house and we’ll spend an afternoon going through stuff.” I said, “I was a choral singer for fifteen years, then went straight into opera, so lied is not that much of my knowledge and experience.” He said, “For two hours we’ll try a load of stuff.” I did do “Songs And Dances Of Death” with orchestra a few years ago, and I did Strauss songs with orchestra. If I can find the right color and the right song, then I would love to do more of it. To sing in a more intimate setting I need somebody skilled at it, who knows me, then we can work out what’s best for my color. It’s like going back to school, like, “Let’s start with a blank page.” And I have a dream: I want to do Winterreise. I’m not known as a recital singer, but I’d like to get that going.