Tag: Zemlinsky

Helmut Deutsch, Christian Immler, album, music, classical, lieder, Grosz, Gund, Outthere Music, Alpha Classics

Be Still My Heart: A Lieder Album “Meant For Us To Do”

Schubert, Mahler, Brahms, Schumann, and Liszt are names known and celebrated within the world of lieder; Christian Immler and Helmut Deutsch are hoping to add a few more to the list. The celebrated bass baritone and collaborative pianist are set to release Be Still My Heart (Alpha Classics) featuring the music of Robert Gund (1865-1927) and Wilhelm Grosz (1894-1939), two composers whose oeuvres have been largely overlooked. This isn’t the first time Immler and Deutsch have highlighted the work of unknown composers. The pair released Hidden Treasure (BIS Records) in 2021, which shone a light on the work of composer Hans Gál. At the time of its release Immler wrote in Gramophone that “(r)eading through and rehearsing music which hasn’t ‘become sound’ for more than a century is for me a powerful combination of curiosity, pioneer spirit and obligation. One is indeed living history!” That spirit of exploration continues with Be Still My Heart, which, amidst its thirty-three tracks, hosts several world-premiere recordings – not a small achievement given the sheer volume and consistently high quality of its respective composers’ output.

Robert Gund, Ludwig Michalek, portrait, composer, lieder, Be Still My Heart, classical

Portrait of Robert Gund by Ludwig Michalek, around 1921. Private collection.

Swiss-born Gund (who used the more French “Gound” for a time before changing it in 1916) enjoyed an illustrious career in Vienna, where, over the course of three decades as a singing and harmony teacher, he built a considerable reputation as both an educator (Alma Mahler was among his students) and composer. He created many works (especially songs) – but also destroyed many, including a symphony, a piano concerto, and an original opera. German writer/musicologist Ernst-Jürgen Dreyer contributed album notes to a 1986 Jubilate vinyl release of songs featuring soprano Franziska Hirzel and pianist Ilona Sándor, and noted that “(f)ew people … suspected that the modest and amiable man known in all salons, father of a family rich in sons, pianist in countless chamber music pieces, sought-after song accompanist and organiser of ‘music jours’ and ‘student productions’, not only had something to add to the songs of the moderns as a composer, but that he surpassed them with genuine song talent.”

In his opening for the liner notes to Be Still My Heart, multi-award-winning producer Michael Haas (who is also the co-founder of Vienna-based exil.arte) quotes a 1905 essay by critic Julius Korngold that savages the contemporaneous state of Viennese lieder while notably singling out Gund for praise; Haas goes on to weigh the reasons behind Gund’s gradual disappearance in music, noting his unique position in Vienna at that time:

… his compositions, as confirmed by Julius Korngold, presented a reliable oasis of stability, offering beauty and inventiveness within the bounds of received convention. Unfortunately, “received convention” was not a priority in the early days Viennese Modernism.
(Michael Haas, Be Still My Heart, 2025)

Wilhelm Grosz, composer, music, Vienna, classical, lieder, music

Wilhelm Grosz, 1927 © Georg Fayer; ÖNB, Bildarchiv Austria

Wilhelm Grosz, twenty-nine years Gund’s junior, was born in Vienna and schooled by a wide range of composers, Franz Schreker among them. Grosz would go on to become the artistic manager of the Ultraphone Gramophone company in Berlin before leading the Kammerspiele Theater in Vienna, though he was forced to flee Austria in 1934. After a short stay in the UK, the composer (who used a number of pseudonyms) moved to New York with plans to continue on to Hollywood, joining other exiled European artists – but he died of a massive heart attack in 1939. His considerable output includes orchestral works, chamber music, film scores, music for two ballets, and three operas; his work would go on to be covered by a range of artists including Frank Sinatra and The Beatles. Haas contextualizes the presence of Grosz within a Viennese progressivism that is more wide than it may first appear, observing the composer’s “metamorphosis from Viennese fin de siècle, to songs for German cinema before teaming up with Billy Kennedy in London under the pseudonyms Will Gross, André Milos, Hugh Williams or Hugh Grant for hits still popular today such as “Isle of Capri” or “Harbour Lights.””

Be Still My Heart celebrates this range by offering a wide array of sounds and experiences. The album, recorded in early 2023 at Munich’s BR-Funkhaus, conveys a deep respect for history alongside a passionate embrace of innovation. With texts by a wide range of writers (including Hesse, Brentano, Morgenstern, Lenau, and Rilke) the album skillfully explores aspects of love, loss, longing, memory, and identity, with a keen sensitivity belying its academic roots. Be Still My Heart is three-dimensional, textured, real, raw, cutting – rooted in a near-forgotten history indeed, but utterly, unmistakably alive with a palpable and timeless passion.

The album is also a showcase for Immler’s intense timbral shading and Deutsch’s intuitive, poetic playing; their interplay, so clear in works like Gund’s “Julinacht” and “Nachts”, or Grosz’s “Helle, sommerliche Nacht” and “Schicksal”, serve to highlight the pair’s clear creative chemistry and near-psychic musical connection. My recent exchange with Christian Immler and Helmut Deutsch touched on forgotten and found histories, the challenges of unknown work (not least in playing it), the joys of long-term collaboration, and what it means to be on the same page in terms of artistic curiosity.

Helmut Deutsch, Christian Immler, album, music, classical, lieder, Grosz, Gund, Outthere Music, Alpha Classics“A Distinct Musical Language”

Why do you think Robert Gund’s work is so largely unknown now?

HD It’s quite unbelievable that his work is so completely forgotten. Here is a man who had performed his own symphony in the Vienna Musikverein, who was close to Mahler and before that to Brahms; he was really in the music world of Vienna in those years. But we don’t know what happened.

CI We are baffled by his music being so unknown, but there are a few theories. Helmut and I have been like detectives through the years, finding and recording unusual repertoire alongside well-known works; in those instances we were usually lucky if we got ten good songs from our investigations – but Gund wrote hundreds of songs, many of them in absolute top quality, so we really had a hard time choosing what to feature on this album – I think that’s the best compliment we can give him.

Halls will often skew their programming toward box office, especially now – “We know we can sell tickets to star names and/or Schumann/Schubert/Mahler” – and everyone else is ignored – maybe that thinking played a role also?

HD Well that’s right, and it’s worth noting that amidst those names Gund really cultivated his own language – a distinct musical language – from them; some parts of his work remind me of Brahms a little bit, but there are things in his writing which you cannot compare easily to any other composer of his time.

Yet he destroyed some of his early works, didn’t he?

HD Yes, in his very young years, he had written a symphony and a piano concerto – which he burned.

CI I wrote to the library of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde (Society of Friends of Music) in Vienna, and I really tried to learn more. I mean, for that kind of a destruction, you don’t have to only destroy your piano part, you have to destroy all the orchestral parts – and absolutely everything seems to be really, really gone. So he really meant it when he burned his own work – but it cannot have been bad if it was premiered at the same time as Zemlinsky’s symphony, right?

Zemlinsky was just one of his many music contacts, is that right?

CI Yes – along with composing, Gund had been the archivist of the Tonkünstlerverein association founded by Schoenberg in Vienna, and he had been Alma Mahler’s counterpoint teacher; he had also played four-hand piano with Brahms! He had all these people on what you might call speed-dial now. Along with these connections Gund was one of the first musicians to promote and actually present lecture-recitals in which he would discuss his research on the complexities of thematic connections in music – and he was twice married to a singer, so he had easy access to interpreters. But I think at heart he was a private person, and he just didn’t like the craziness of what an international career would demand. I met Gund’s grandson, and the more we spoke, the more it seemed as if this was true. Gund, as a composer, seems to have been extremely private.

Natural, Elegant, Evocative

So how would you characterize Gund’s writing then?

CI The quality of his writing is phenomenal! And – I don’t say this lightly – I am hopeful, if not convinced, that more people will be performing his songs now. I have had so many young students already say, “I love this, where can I get the music?” and I tell them: it’s printed. The majority of his lieder were printed in his lifetime, and they are available now; you don’t have to go to any society and get the manuscripts. It’s all printed, everything is out there. And this album with Helmut feels like it was something which was meant for us to do.

What were the unique challenges of not only choosing which pieces to play, but then perfecting and recording them?

HD We had difficulties making selections because there are only so many minutes you can have on a CD. When we first selected the songs we liked, we went far over the running time – so we had to edit, and it was really very hard for us to say goodbye to so many wonderful works. There is much more to discover of Gund than is even on this record.

CI The main thing we wanted was to have a nice mix; some of the songs make use of unique metres, like 5/4, but Gund uses the time in such a refined way that it just lulls you in. And I think Helmut can confirm that some composers try to get the piano accompaniment right, but Gund comes from a more pianistic side already – he was lucky to be married to singers who probably also had their influence on his writing – but the piano parts are incredibly interesting. So whenever, as a singer, I had the feeling that I needed a little injection of energy, it was right there. Gund uses very simple things, things that, in my opinion, only a master composer can apply in such a way. His writing feels very natural, very right, simple but elegant, and very evocative and realistically idiomatic for the actual instrument, whether voice or piano.

“A Rollercoaster of Musical Styles”

So why Gund and Grosz, together?

CI To start at the beginning: Helmut actually found a book about Robert Gund. That was the initiative. I think; you stumbled across it by chance – correct me if that’s not right, Helmut?

HD It was in Bonn, in a bookshop; there were two books there for five marks – so it was a long time ago indeed – they had Gund’s musical life only, and an appendix with 40 songs. I tried to encourage my former students in Munich with them, and some of them performed a few of the works – but It needed a person like Christian to conduct more research and to find all his other songs. We found out that there is much, much, much more. They both have the connection to Vienna, of course…

CI Yes, the combination with Gund and Grosz was done with reference to very different eras for Vienna composers; I also wrote part of my doctorate about Wilhelm Grosz and the recital scene in Vienna between the two wars. Gund and Grosz meet kind of right in the middle of an era in flux; one person is kind of tapering off and the other person is just emerging. Obviously the style of each is different, but having them both on one recording gives you a little rollercoaster of musical styles, and also a choice of poems; then it ends on Grosz’s English-language songs, which are much lighter.

What makes Grosz’s writing unique?

CI He had an incredible gift for melody, in my opinion, his sense of melody is just so sticky. We mention it in the booklet also, that his work has been covered by the likes of Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, The Beatles.

HD Initially with the early Grosz songs, I wondered: could I, maybe for a few minutes, be 30 years old again, just to find out whether it’s just my current age making these works difficult, or if they are really so complicated? A lot of parts in these early songs he wrote are on three systems, or, not only three systems – Debussy used this kind of writing also – but most of the chords Grosz writes for both hands have ten voices. And there are a lot of really complicated things in terms of where to put this middle line – in your right hand and in your left hand. Despite my age, I would consider myself not bad at sight-reading…

CI You are the best!

HD … but you could read one chord at one point, and you needed three or four seconds there to figure out the next chord; then the next and the next. In the end, it should be a more or less flowing tempo. After ten days, I was really very close to saying, “Christian, I’m very sorry, I give up.” But I didn’t give up. Now, after a while away from Grosz’s songs for a bit, I look at one of them and that feeling starts again – this can also be extremely difficult. So while Gund was certainly a very good pianist and did write very effective things on the piano, they are not difficult by comparison with Grosz.

CI The feeling of finding music like this… I mean you have an idea of its sound if you look at the music of the time, but there is really no comparison either. You don’t feel any influence by Brahms – maybe there’s a little bit in some songs – but there is no influence by Mahler. There are also no comparisons with recordings as with these other composers, like “This is the best recording of this and that” – when you are making the 250th recording of Winterreise, for example, you can scan generations, but here, you have to find out together, with a musical partner, and this was a fascination.

Discovering Together (With Wine)

Helmut Deutsch, Christian Immler, album, music, classical, lieder, Grosz, Gund, Outthere Music, Alpha Classics

Helmut Deutsch (L) and Christian Immler (R). Photo: Andrej Grilc

How has the working chemistry between you changed through the years? And do you, together, feel like ambassadors for these little-known lieder composers?

HD It’s thanks to these composers that the quality is, very much, in the music. And we have, if I may say so, Christian, the same taste.

CI This is very true!

HD It’s always a bad signal if you have to have a lot of discussions about a tempo, about a rubato or the like: “Why do you do this? I would like to go straight forward and you are hesitating.” I can’t remember any discussion of this kind working with Christian. One has to be very thankful to have a partner who feels the same.

CI Yes. I mean, it evolves from rehearsal to rehearsal, but talking about tempo is for me, very annoying. A purely music-making and non-verbal rehearsal is often more effective! The only thing we discussed, really, was which white wine to put into the fridge for dinner – that was important! But the prolongation of our curiosity is something I’m very fortunate to share with Helmut; it’s been a long collaboration already. And I don’t know any other pianist with whom one can have so much fun, just sitting at the piano and trying things out. It is incredible to examine repertoire like this.

Be Still My Heart (Alpha Classics) is released on 28 February 2025.
Top photo: Andrej Grilc

2019: Looking Forward

Andreas Schlüter kopf einer gottin

Andreas Schlüter, Kopf einer Göttin (Head of a Goddess); Bode Museum Berlin, 1704. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

A new year is a good time for assessments and remembrances, for reflecting on moments good, bad, and otherwise. As well as a desire to keep more cultural experiences within the personal realm, I’d prefer look ahead, to things that spark my imagination and inspire expansion, challenge, and evolution.

Earlier this year a friend observed that my tastes have become (his words) “more adventurous” over the past eighteen months or so. Flattering as this is, it’s also a reminder of the extent to which I have layered over my past, one largely spent wandering through the vast, lusciously dark forests of curiosity and wonder. Decades of weighty responsibility cut that forest down and gave me a deep trunk, into which all the unfinished canvases of a fragrant, lush wonder were stored; I came to believe, somehow, such a trunk had no place in the busy crowded living room I’d been busily filling with the safe, acceptable predictability of other peoples’ stuff. My mother’s passing in 2015 initially created a worship of ornate things from her trunk — perhaps my attempt to raise her with a chorus of sounds, as if I was Orpheus, an instinct based more in the exercise of sentiment than in the embrace and extension of soul.

Contending with a tremendous purge of items from the near and distant past has created a personal distaste for the insistent grasping and romanticizing of history (though I do allow myself to enjoy some of its recorded splendor, and its visual arts, as the photos on this feature attest). Such romanticizing utterly defines various segments of the opera world, resulting in various factions marking themselves gatekeepers of a supposedly fabled legacy which, by its nature, is meant to shape-shift, twist, curl, open, and change. It’s fun to swim in the warm, frothy seas of nostalgia every now and again, but mistaking those waves for (or much less preferring them to) the clear, sharp coldness of fresh water seems a bit absurd to me. À chacun son goût, perhaps. 

kupka

František Kupka, Plans par couleurs, grand nu; 1909-1910, on loan to Grande Palais Paris; permanent collection, Guggenheim NYC. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

Rediscovering the contents of my own trunk, pulling each item out, examining it in the sunlight, looking at what it means now (if anything) and deciding whether to keep or bin, has been a slow if meaningful process; it has been a homecoming to myself, one groaning and gloriously stretching with every breath. Refreshingly, such a process has not been defined by the rather narrow tastes of a somewhat culturally dictatorial mother, but by things I like, things I miss, things have no need to feel validated for liking.

“You’re so serious,” I was once told, “serious and critical and intellectual.”

I don’t know if any of these things are (or were) true, but making a point of experiencing the work of artists who reveal and inspire (and challenge and move) has become the single-biggest motivating factor in my life. “Adventurous” is less a new fascinator than an old (and beloved) hat. Here’s to taking it out of the trunk, and wearing it often and well in 2019. 

Verdi, Messa da Requiem; Staatsoper Hamburg, January

The year opens with an old chestnut, reimagined by director Calixto Bieito into a new, bright bud. Bieito’s productions are always theatrical, divisive and deeply thought-provoking. Doing a formal staging Verdi’s famous requiem, instead of presenting it in traditional concert (/ park-and-bark) mode, feels like something of a coup. Paolo Arrivabeni conducts this production, which premiered in Hamburg last year, which features a stellar cast, including the sonorous bass of Gabor Bretz.

despair

Jean-Joseph Perraud, Le Désespoir; 1869, Paris; Musée d’Orsay. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

Tchaikovsky/Bartok, Iolanta Bluebeard’s Castle, NYC, January

A double-bill exploring the various (and frequently darker) facets of human relating, this Marius Treliński production (from the 2014-2015 season) features soprano Sonya Yoncheva and tenor Matthew Polenzani in Tchaikovsky’s one-act work; baritone Gerald Finley and soprano Angela Denoke perform in Bartók’s dark tale of black secrets, last staged at the Met in early 2015. The orchestra could well be considered a third character in the work, so rich is it in coloration and textures.  No small feat to sing either, as music writer Andrew McGregor has noted that “the music is so closely tied to the rhythms and colours of the Hungarian language.” Henrik Nánási, former music director at Komische Oper Berlin, conducts.

Vivier, Kopernikus; Staatsoper Berlin, January

Spoiler: I am working on a feature (another one) about the Quebec-born composer’s influence and the recent rise in attention his work have enjoyed. Kopernikus (subtitle: Rituel de Mort) is an unusual work on a number of levels; composed of a series of tableaux, there’s no real narrative, but an integration of a number of mythological figures as well as real and imagined languages that match the tonal colors of the score.  This production (helmed by director Wouter van Looy, who is Artistic Co-Director of Flemish theatre company Muziektheater Transparant) comes prior ahead of a production the Canadian troupe Against the Grain (led by Joel Ivany) are doing in Toronto this coming April.

Vustin, The Devil in LoveStanislavsky and Nemirovich-Danchenko Moscow Academic Music Theatre, February

It was while investigating the work of Russian composer and pianist Rodion Shchedrin that I learned about the work of contemporary composer Alexander Vustin — and became utterly smitten with it. A composer who previously worked in both broadcasting and publishing, Vustin’s opera is based on the 1772 Jacques Cazotte novel Le Diable amoureux, which revolves around a demon who falls in love with a human. Vustin wrote his opera between 1975 and 1989, but The Devil in Love will only now enjoy its world premiere, in a staging by Alexander Titel (Artistic Director of the Stanislavsky Opera) and with music direction/conducting by future Bayerische Staatsoper General Music Director Vladimir Jurowski.

zurich opera

Inside Opernhaus Zurich. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

Ligeti, Le Grand Macabre; Opernhaus Zurich, February

The Opernhaus Zurich website describes this work, which is based on a play by Belgian dramatist Michel de Ghelderode, as “one of the 20th century’s most potent works of musical theatre.” It is also one of the most harrowing things I’ve seen; anyone who’s experienced it comes away changed. Directed by Tatjana Gürbaca (who’s directed many times in Zurich now), the work is, by turns, coarse, shocking, cryptic, and deliciously absurd. General Music Director Fabio Luisi (who I am more used to seeing conduct Mozart and Verdi at the Met) was to lead what Ligeti himself has called an “anti-anti-opera”; he’s been forced to cancel for health reasons. Tito Ceccherini will be on the podium in his place.

Zemlinsky, Der Zwerg; Deutsche Oper Berlin, February

Another wonderfully disturbing work, this time by early 20th century composer Alexander von Zemlinsky, whose “Die Seejungfrau” (The Mermaid) fantasy for orchestra is an all-time favorite of mine. Der Zwerg, or The Dwarf, is an adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s disturbing short story “The Birthday of the Infanta” and is infused with the sounds of Strauss and Mahler, but with Zemlinsky’s own unique sonic richness. Donald Runnicles (General Music Director of the Deutsche Oper ) conducts, with powerhouse tenor David Butt Philip in the title role, in a staging by Tobias Kratzer, who makes his DO debut.

lucke grimace

Johann Christian Ludwig Lücke , Bust of a Grimacing Man with a Slouch Hat; 1740, Elfenbein; Bode Museum, Berlin. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

Kurtág, Fin de Partie; Dutch National Opera, March

Among the many music happenings of late which could be called an event with a capital “e”, this one has to rank near the top. Ninety-one year-old composer György Kurtág has based his first opera on Samuel Beckett’s 1957 play Endgame. Premiering at Teatro Alla Scala in November, music writer Alex Ross noted that “(n)ot since Debussy’s  “Pelléas et Mélisande” has there been vocal writing of such radical transparency: every wounded word strikes home.” Director Pierre Audi and conductor Markus Stenz (chief conductor of the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra) bring Kurtág’s painfully-birthed opera to Amsterdam for three (nearly sold-out) dates.

Handel, Poros, Komische Oper Berlin, March

A new staging of a rarely-heard work by legendary opera director Harry Kupker, Handel’s 1731 opera based around Alexander the Great’s Indian campaign features the deep-hued soprano of Ruzan Mantashyan as Mahamaya and the gorgeously lush baritone of KOB ensemble member Dominik Köninger in the title role. Conductor Jörg Halubek, co-founder of the Stuttgart baroque orchestra Il Gusto Barocco (which specializes in forgotten works) makes his KOB debut. The combination of Kupfer, Handel, and Komische Oper is, to my mind, very exciting indeed.

woman bode

Southern Netherlands, Screaming Woman; late 16th century; Bode Museum, Berlin. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

Shostakovich, Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk; Opera National de Paris, April  

A new production of Shostakovich’s passionate, brutal, and darkly funny opera from innovative director Krzysztof Warlikowski, whose creative and thoughtful presentations have appeared on the stages of Bayerische Staatsoper, the Royal Opera, Teatro Real (Madrid), and La Monnaie (Brussels), to name a few. He also staged The Rake’s Progress in Berlin at Staatsoper im Schiller Theater. Here he’ll be directing soprano Ausrine Stundyte in the lead as the sexy, restless Lady, alongside tenor John Daszak as Zinovy Borisovich Ismailov (I really enjoyed his performance in this very role at the Royal Opera last year), bass (and Stanislavsky Opera regular) Dmitry Ulyanov as pushy father Boris, and tenor Pavel Černoch as the crafty Sergei. Conductor Ingo Metzmacher is on the podium.

Berlioz, La damnation de Faust; Glyndebourne, May

Glyndebourne Festival Music Director Robin Ticciati leads the London Philharmonic and tenor Allan Clayton (so impressive in Brett Dean’s Hamlet, which debuted at Glyndebourne in 2017) as the doomed title character, with baritone Christopher Purves as the deliciously diabolical Mephistopheles, and French-Canadian mezzo-soprano Julie Boulianne as Marguerite. I love this score, a lot, and quite enjoyed a 2017 staging at Opéra Royal de Wallonie. Likewise the work of director Richard Jones, whose Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk at the Royal Opera last year afforded some very creative choices and character insights; I’m very curious how he might approach Berlioz’s dreamy, surreal work, together with Ticciati’s signature lyrical approach.

hands neues museen

Pair of Hands from a group statue of Akhenaten and Nefertiti or two princesses; Neues Reich 18 Dynastie. At the Neues Museen, Berlin. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

Gluck, Alceste; Bayerische Staatsoper, May

A new production of Gluck’s opera about self-sacrificing love with a fascinating backstory: after its publishing in 1769, a preface was added to the score by Gluck and his librettist which outlined ideas for operatic reform. The list included things like making the overture more closely linked with the ensuing action, no improvisation, and less repetition within arias. Alceste came to be known as one of Gluck’s “reform” operas (after Orfeo ed Euridice). Two decades later, Mozart used the same chord progressions from a section of the opera for a scene in his Don Giovanni, which Berlioz called “heavily in-inspired or rather plagiarized.” The Bavarian State Opera production will feature a solid cast which includes tenor Charles Castronovo, soprano Dorothea Röschmann,  and baritone Michael Nagy, under the baton of Antonello Manacorda.

Handel, Belshazzar; The Grange Festival, June 

Described on The Grange’s website as “an early Aida,” this rare staging of the biblical oratorio sees a cast of baroque specialists (including tenor Robert Murray in the title role and luminous soprano Rosemary Joshua as his mother, Nitocris) tackling the epic work about the fall of Babylon, and the freeing of the of the Jewish nation. Musicologist Winton Dean has noted the work was composed during “the peak of Handel’s creative life.” Presented in collaboration with The Sixteen, a UK-based choir and period instrument orchestra, the work will be directed by Daniel Slater (known for his unique takes on well-known material) and will be led by The Sixteen founder Harry Christophers.

Festival Aix-en-Provence, July

The final collaboration between Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht (and the source of the famous “Alabama Song”), Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny will be presented in a new production featuring the Philharmonia Orchestra, led by Esa-Pekka Salonen. Director Ivo van Hove (whose Boris Godounov at the Opera de Paris this past summer I was so shocked and moved by) helms the work; casting has yet to be announced. Music writer Rupert Christiansen has noted that it “remains very hard to perform […] with the right balance between its slick charm and its cutting edge.” Also noteworthy: the French premiere of Wolfgang Rihm’s one-act chamber opera Jakob Lenz, based on Georg Büchner’s novella about the German poet. (Büchner is perhaps best-known for his unfinished play Woyzeck, later adapted by Alban Berg.) Presented by Ensemble Modern, the work will be helmed by award-winning director Andrea Breth and conducted by Ingo Metzmacher. This summer’s edition of the festival marks Pierre Audi’s first term as its new Director, and all five productions being staged are firsts for the fest as well.

sphinx altes

Sphinx of Shepenupet II, god’s wife of Amon; late period 25th Dynasty, around 660 B.C.; Altes Museum, Berlin. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

Enescu,Œdipe; Salzburger Festspiele, August

The Romanian composer’s 1931 opera based on the mythological tale of Oedipus is presented in a new production at the Salzburg Festival and features a stellar cast which includes bass John Tomlinson as the prophet Tirésias, mezzo-soprano  as Jocasta, mezzo soprano Clémentine Margaine (known for her numerous turns as Bizet’s Carmen) as The Sphinx, baritone Boris Pinkhasovich as Thésée, and baritone Christopher Maltman in the title role. In writing about Enescu’s score, French music critic Emile Vuillermoz noted that “(t)he instruments speak here a strange language, direct, frank and grave, which does not owe anything to the traditional polyphonies.” Staging is by Achim Freyer (who helmed a whimsical production of Hänsel and Gretel at the Staatsoper Berlin), with Ingo Metzmacher on the podium.

Schoenberg, Moses und Aron; Enescu Festival, September

In April 1923, Schoenberg would write to Wassily Kandinsky: “I have at last learnt the lesson that has been forced upon me this year, and I shall never forget it. It is that I am not a German, not a European, indeed perhaps scarcely even a human being (at least, the Europeans prefer the worst of their race to me), but that I am a Jew.” The ugly incident that inspired this would result in his mid-1920s agitprop play Der biblische Weg (The Biblical Way), from which Moses und Aron would ultimately spring. Essentially a mystical plunge into the connections between community, identity, and divinity, this sonically dense and very rewarding work will be presented at the biennial George Enescu Festival, in an in-concert presentation featuring Robert Hayward as Moses and tenor John Daszak as Aron (a repeat pairing from when they appeared in a 2015 Komische Oper Berlin production), with Lothar Zagrosek on the podium.

wexford

Post-opera strolling in Wexford. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

Wexford Festival Opera, October

It’s hard to choose just one work when Wexford is really a broader integrative experience; my visit this past autumn underlined the intertwined relationship between onstage offerings and local charms. The operas being presented at the 2019 edition include Der Freischütz by Carl Maria von Weber, Don Quichotte by Jules Massenet (which I saw, rather memorably, with Ferruccio Furlanetto in the lead), and the little-performed (and rather forgotten) Adina by Gioacchino Rossini, a co-production with Rossini Opera Festival. The latter will be paired with a new work, La Cucina, by Irish composer Andrew Synnott.

Strauss, Die ägyptische Helena; Teatro Alla Scala, November

A reimagining the myth of Helen of Troy (courtesy of Euripides) sees Paris seduce a phantom Helen created by the goddess Hera, while the real thing is held captive in Egypt until a long-awaited reunion with her husband Menelas. In a 2007 feature for the New York Times (published concurrent to a then-running production at the Met), music critic Anthony Tommasini characterized Hugo von Hofmannsthal’s libretto as “verbose and philosophical,” and posed questions relating to Strauss’s score thusly: “Is a passage heroic or mock-heroic? Opulently lyrical or intentionally over the top?” I suspect those are precisely the questions the composer wanted to be raised; he questions not just the tough questions around intimate relating, but ones connected with audience and artist. The piece features some breathtaking vocal writing as well. Sven-Eric Bechtolf (whose Don Giovanni I so enjoyed at Salzburg in 2016) directs, and Franz Welser-Möst leads a powerhouse cast that includes tenor Andreas Schager, baritone Thomas Hampson, and soprano Ricarda Merbeth as the titular Helena. This production marks the first time Die ägyptische Helena has been presented at La Scala.

Oskar Kallis, Sous le soleil d’été; 1917, on loan to Musée d’Orsay; permanent collection, Eesti Kunstimuuseum, Tallinn.

Messager, FortunioOpéra-Comique, December

I freely admit to loving comédie lyrique; the genre is a lovely, poetic  cousin to operetta. Fortunio, which was premiered in 1907 by the Opéra-Comique at the Salle Favart in Paris, is based on the 1835 play Le Chandelier by Alfred de Musset and concerns a young clerk (the Fortunio of the title) caught in a web of deceit with the wife of an old notary, with whom he is enamored. Gabriel Fauré, who was in the opening night audience (along with fellow composers Claude Debussy and Gabriel Pierné) noted of André Messager (in a review for Le Figaro) that he possessed “the gifts of elegance and clarity, of wit, of playful grace, united to the most perfect knowledge of the technique of his art.” This production, from 2009, reunites original director Denis Podalydès with original conductor Louis Langrée. Paris en décembre? Peut-être!

herbin composition

Auguste Herbin, Composition; 1928, Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris. Photo: mine. Please do not reproduce without permission.

This list may seem extensive, but there’s so much I’ve left out — festivals like Verbier and Les Chorégies d’Orangehouses like Wiener Staatsoper and Teatro Real, outlets in Scandinavia (Den Norske, Royal Swedish Opera, Savonlinna) and Italy (Pesaro, Parma) and the UK (Aldeburgh, Garsington, ENO, and of course the Royal Opera). It’s still too early for many organizations to be announcing their upcoming (September and beyond) seasons; I’m awaiting those releases, shivering, to quote Dr. Frank-n-furter, with antici…pation.

And, just in the interests of clarifying an obvious and quite intentional omission: symphonic events were not included in this compilation. The sheer scale, volume, and variance would’ve diffused my purposeful opera focus. I feel somewhat odd about this exclusion; attending symphonies does occupy a deeply central place for me on a number of levels, as it did throughout my teenaged years. Experiencing concerts live is really one of my most dear and supreme joys. I may address this in a future post, which, as with everything, won’t be limited by geography, genre, range or repertoire. In these days of tumbling definitions and liquid tastes , it feels right (and good) to mash organizations and sounds against one another, in words, sounds, and spirit.

For now, I raise a glass to 2019, embracing adventure — in music, in the theatre, in life, and beyond. So should you. Santé!

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