Yesterday evening, I attended a concert which I found very interesting, and which I would like share with you. The piece I’m writing is an overview which I hope gives you a flavour of what I experienced. It is not in the same style as my usual posts, which tend to be more analytical, as I am not familiar with Prokofiev’s music, having immersed myself in the Baroque and Classical periods for so many years.

As part of artistic director and conductor Vladimir Jurowski's Prokofiev: Man of the people? season, the Royal Festival Hall hosted two rarely heard pieces of music by the Russian composer. The first piece, Egyptian Nights, was originally a “theatrical experiment...that brought together scenes from Bernard Shaw’s Caesar and Cleopatra, William Shakespeare’s Anthony and Cleopatra and the 1828 poem Cleopatra by Alexander Pushkin.” The reason for the combination of the Shaw and Shakespeare plays was explained by Prokofiev himself: “Shaw depicted Cleopatra in the bloom of her youth; and Shakespeare, at the moment of her decline.”

The second piece was the world première of Levon Atovmyan’s oratorio arrangement of the music by Prokofiev to accompany Sergei Eizenshtein’s film Ivan the Terrible. Lost to the world for almost 50 years, the score of the oratorio came to light when Nelly Kravetz went to visit Atovmyan’s daughter, Svetlana Levonovna, in the House of Composers in Moscow. She gave the score to Kravetz, telling her to “Do something to prevent [my father’s] name from being forever confined to oblivion.” Atovmyan arrangement of the film music included changes to the order of the action from that in the film, minor changes to Prokofiev’s scoring, composition and libretto, and “significant alterations to the choral score”.

In the first piece, Egyptian Nights, the narrative passages were performed by two very gifted actors: Simon Callow CBE, and BAFTA award winning actress Miranda Richardson. Both actors had to play multiple roles, with Callow having to play both an aging Caesar and a virile Mark Anthony. His ability to move between contrasting characters with versatility and integrity made for an excellent performance. His heavily Irish-accented fig-seller, who was to sell the fatal asp to Cleopatra, was comic genius. Richardson’s Cleopatra was an excellent developmental exploration of the changes that occurred as the young queen grew into maturity. Her girlish innocence in her scenes with Caesar at the Sphinx contrasted with the warmer, more seductive tones displayed towards the end of the piece.

Musically, while slightly bitty, the score produced some wonderful moments. Prokofiev has a knack of writing beautiful music for the lower strings, particularly the viola and the double bass. It was lovely to hear one of the melodies start in the lower reaches of the cello section, only to find its culmination with the violas. In the scene with solo harp, harpist Rachel Masters produced a languid sound that was both captivating and mournful. Following this was the exquisite humming chorus, which had the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. We also received our first hearing of Baritone Andrey Breus, who would hear again later on.

After the interval came the second piece, the oratorio Ivan the Terrible. The opening of the oratorio had the strings powering up and down a series of semi-quaver runs, while the brass came to the fore with Ivan’s theme. The first chorus, A Black Cloud, was well performed, and gave us an inkling of what was to come. Contralto Ewa Podles’ first outing came with the second piece, the Song of the Beaver. Here she portrayed boyarina Yevfrosinya Staritskaya, who is explaining to her son how she plans to depose Ivan, and place him on the throne instead. Podles’ dark contralto was superbly macabre, as she sang the low, chilling phrases. Her black and gold outfit was perfect for the role.

The third piece of the drama was the most brilliant. Here, baritone Andrey Breus took the role of Fyodor Basmanov in the song of the Oprichiniki, the mercenaries of the Tzar. Breus’ voice took the high phrases magnificently, every inch a warrior. His strong voice never became abrasive, and his interplay with the chorus was perfect. He was in a virgin-blue top with oriental trimmings, and knee-length boots. It was a rousing, engaging piece, and as Doundou Tchil of the blog Classical Iconoclast put it: “One should feel fear and revulsion. But the music is so infectious; you're almost drawn into it, which is rather worrying. But then, that's what mobs are like.” The next two pieces, Swan and Anastasia, relate to Anastasia’s marriage to Ivan, and to her poisoning respectively, and were masterfully performed by the London Philharmonic Orchestra and the London Philharmonic Choir.

In the sixth piece, Ocean-Sea, Ewa Podles returns as Ivan’s elderly nursemaid, who recounts the murder of Ivan’s mother, the regent Elena Glinskaya. Podles’ voice ebbed and flowed like the waters in this most nebulous of arias. Her final dark utterance on the words “Russian Sea” was like hearing the voice of Neptune rise from the cavernous depths of the ocean. The final two pieces, The Capture of Kazan and Magnification, both had moments of fire and glory which filled the hall with fierce energy. The use of the double bass, tuba, contra-bassoon and other bass instruments to portray the cannon at the walls of Kazan was a magnificent piece of orchestration.

It was a fantastic evening, one which has opened my eyes to the music of Prokofiev, and which has inspired me to explore more of his work in the future.

The December Rosenblatt Recital featured Slovenian soprano Sabina Cvilak performing a recital of diverse music, from little known Slovenian Lieder through Puccini and Strauss, to Stolz and Lehár. In her recent performances of Britten’s War Requiem, she received rave reviews, such as from Classical Source who described her voice as “floating effortlessly above [the chorus] as she sang”, and the New York Times who said that “Cvilak brought a lustrous soprano voice and guileless sincerity to her singing.” Indeed, it was the dual qualities of an effortless, floating upper register and sincere, idiomatic characterisation which defined her performance.

The Recital started with pianist Iain Burnside announcing a change in the performance order: the first three songs, all in the Slovene language, were to be performed in reverse order. Thus, the concert started with the haunting Nocoj pa, ah, nocoj by Marijan Lipovšek. Cvilak’s mesmeric performance captured perfectly the forlorn lament of a girl whose lover is to be lost to the army, her gently lilting dynamics interplaying languidly with the accompaniment. Next was Franz Seraphin Vilhar’s Nezakonska mati, a deeply emotional song about a mother and her illegitimate child, abandoned by her family. Finally we had the more upbeat Ciciban, by Ciril Pregelj, set to a piece of Slovenian children’s poetry.

The five songs of the Hölderlin Leider, performed without interruption, comprised of poems by German lyric poet Fredrich Hölderlin set to music by Josef Matthias Hauer. The second song, Hyperions Schicksalsleid, contained some tragically beautiful music, and Cvilak’s superbly supported pianissimo in the high register was astonishing. Vanini, the fourth of the songs, was a powerful ode to Lucilio Vanini, a heretic who was condemned to death by the Inquisition. Cvilak performed the song with a fiery intensity, encapsulating the anger and indignation of the poem in her fierce delivery. In stark contrast was Lebenslauf, the last of the songs, which had Cvilak at her most ethereal, her voice tender yet strong, like a gossamer thread.

One of the benefits of attending multiple concerts in a recital series is that one is more than likely to hear Lieder from Richard Strauss: Cvilak was not one to buck the trend! The first, Allerseelen, was gracefully performed by Cvilak, with the beautiful melody stunningly sung. Cvilak’s performance was truly moving, and without a doubt one of the best interpretations of this song I have heard. In Zueignung, Cvilak gave a commanding performance, with a stunning fortissimo A5 towards the end. Her beautiful phrasing in Morgen was a delight to hear, her voice seeming to float effortlessly on the breath.

The second half opened with two big hitters from Puccini: “Sì, mi chiamano Mimi” from La Bohème, and “Senza mamma” from Suor Angelica. Being one of the defining arias of a Lyric soprano, “Sì, mi chiamano Mimi” can be rather difficult to listen to without automatically comparing with past giants of the opera world. From the onset, however, Cvilak made the aria her own. Her undulating dynamics and flawlessly executed phrasing, combined with her own unassuming character, gave the aria a new life which it can sometimes lack, being so regularly performed. In the Suor Angelica aria, Cvilak’s opening phrase, “Senza mamma, bimbo, tu sei morto”, was chilling in its desperation, and her pianissimo A5 at the end of the phrase “Parlami, amore, amore, amor!” was electric.

Of the three songs by Robert Stolz, it was the final “Spiel auf deiner Geige” from Venus in Seide which most caught my attention. The aria was a vehicle for Cvilak to showcase her dark, smoky chest register juxtaposed against the bright, powerful phrases placed high in the voice. With the “Vilya Lied” from Franz Lehár’s The Merry Widow, Cvilak returned to the mystical world in which she started the recital. The gentle inflections of the music, and her idiomatic grasp of the text, made the aria all the more alluring, yet delicate also. The traditionally interpolated pianissimo B5 was like a tinkling bell, bright and clear. Her two encores were “Ecco: Respiro Appena” from Adriana Lecouvreur and “O mio babbino caro” from Gianni Schicchi. Both were beautifully performed, and very well received.

Not only was I impressed by Cvilak's elegant and refined performance, but also by her humility and graciousness, reflected in her advice to aspiring young singers in her recent “in conversation with…” interview with Rosenblatt Recitals: “[B]e sincere and hard working. Don't chase results - they will come from effort and personality. Sometimes failure means happiness and better opportunities later on. Just don't stop trying.” Cvilak will be performing Strauss’ Four Last Songs in Turkey this December, and will be performing across the globe in 2012. I think this is definitely a singer to watch.

The third movement of Haydn's Cello Concerto in C Major is one of my favourite pieces of music. It is a truly joyous piece, and one which I find uplifting. The first performance I heard was by 13-year-old Han-na Chang, who took my breath away with her skill, musicianship and dynamism. It is no wonder her teacher, Mstislav Rostropovich, was so impressed with her! I hope in this post to give you a little bit of background to the piece, and to leave you with five of my favourite interpretations: including that of Han-na Chang.

The discovery of Haydn’s Cello Concerto No. 1 in C Major in 1961 has been called “the single greatest musicological discovery since the Second World War”[i]. The Concerto gives us an insight into the importance and maturity of the Haydn's early compositions, which have often been deemed as of a lower standard those produced later. The discovery of the Cello Concerto in C major by Oldrich Pulkert at the Prague National Museum debunks this idea, as it: “suggests that Haydn was an extremely capable composer of concertos from an early stage in his career.”[ii]

The discovery lead to world-class cellists, such as Mstislav Rostropovich and Jacqueline Du Pré, bringing to the musical world a new understanding of the prodigious talent of the early output of ‘Papa’ Haydn. Indeed, many other famous performers, such as Sol Gabetta, Han-na Chang, Julian Lloyd-Webber, and Daniel Müller-Schott have taken up the work, leading to it becoming one of the “most regularly performed concertos from any period[iii]”. Indeed, David Wyn Jones called the piece “one of the finest artistic expressions of the age[iv]”.

But how did this extraordinary piece of work come about? Well, for that we have to look back at the time Joseph Haydn spent at the court of Prince Esterházy. Joseph Haydn joined the court of Prince Paul Anton Esterházy in 1761. The family was extremely wealthy with, among other residences, an ancestral home called Schloss Esterházy in Eisenstadt, and a huge palace in Hungary called Eszterháza, constructed in the 1760s.

It was with the Esterházy household that Haydn took the role of Vice-Kapellmeister, taking charge of most of the musical enterprise. It is believed that the Cello Concerto in C major was composed around this time, approximately between 1761-5. In 1766, when the Kapellmeister, Gregor Werner, died, Haydn became full Kapellmeister, and took over the role, controlling the whole musical world in the Esterházy court.

Both Prince Paul Anton and, after his death in 1762, Prince Nikolaus "the Magnificent", gave Haydn access to an orchestra with which to both perform and compose, and it is with this orchestra in mind that Haydn would have written the Cello Concerto in C major:

“In the early 1760s the orchestra is thought to have consisted of around twelve players: four violins, one viola, one cello, one double bass, one bassoon, two horns and two oboes. All of these players were accomplished freelance musicians, as the instrumental parts in many of Haydn’s early symphonies will testify.”[v]

The Concerto is believed to have been written for Haydn’s close friend, the ‘cellist Joseph Weigl. Joseph Weigl had joined the Esterházy musicians in June, 1761, and had married the daughter of the “Secretaire” and Chief Bookkeeper of the Esterházy Administration, Anton Scheffstoss[vi]. We know that Haydn held Weigl in high esteem from his own letters. For instance, in 1772, Haydn wrote the following to Anton Scheffstoss:

“…please present my respectful compliments to your wife and the Weigl family (to whom I shall write shortly), and to all other good friends…”[vii]

Haydn also became Godfather to Weigl’s son, the future composer and conductor, Joseph Weigl Jr. Haydn took his duties as Godparent very seriously, and was very encouraging to Weigl Jr. In January 1794, Haydn wrote the following letter to his Godson:

“Dearest Godson!

When I took you in my arms after your birth, and had the pleasure of becoming your godfather, I implored Omnipotent Providence to endow you with the highest degree of musical talent. My fervent request has been heard:- It has been a long time since I felt such enthusiasm for any music as for your La Principessa d’Amalfi yesterday: it is full of ideas, it has grandeur, it is expressive; in short – a masterpiece. I heartily participated in the well-deserved applause with which it was received. Continue, my dearest godson, to write in this genuine style, so that you may once again convince the foreigners of that which a German can accomplish. Meanwhile, keep a place in your memory for an old fellow like myself. I love you affectionately and am, dearest Weigl,
.
Your Bosom-friend and servant,
.
Joseph Haydn”[viii]

Haydn also helped another of Weigl’s children, Thaddäus, to open a music-dealer’s business in Vienna. He wrote sent Thaddäus a certificate, to present to the Vienna authorities, in which he praised Thaddäus, and gave his own personal backing to the scheme:

“I, the undersigned, declare publicly and to all those whom it may concern that the music engraved under the supervision of Herr Thadäus [sic] Weigl distinguishes itself, over and above everyone else’s, to his great advantage; which one would easily expect from such a man as Herr Thadäus Weigl, inasmuch as he himself is a composer, and possesses all the knowledge necessary to conduct such a business successfully. This is also to the obvious advantage of the state, since then it would no longer be necessary for our native composers to have their works sent abroad to be engraved.
.
At his request, and for his benefit, I have enumerated all these circumstances, which are entirely truthful, and set my hand and seal to this certificate.”

The accompanying letter again shows the close bond Haydn had with the family:

“Dearest Friend!
.
I consider myself fortunate to be able to do you a small favour by writing you a certificate, the more so since, without any flattery, you really do deserve this important position more than anybody else, because of your many and varied merits, and your understanding of the subject. I congratulate you, and very much which I could write more, but I’m a poor old fellow because of my new Mass, which I’m just finishing, and which is to be performed the day after tomorrow. Meanwhile I hope to see you soon in Vienna, and remain, my dearest Friend, with every esteem,

Your most willing servant,
.
Joseph Haydn [m.p] ria”[ix]

Given that the Haydn had such close links with the Weigl family, it is highly probably that the Concerto was written, not only with Weigl in mind, but so that Weigl could “show off” his abilities at court. Edward Neil Furse writes that “Haydn wrote a number of highly virtuosic cello parts for his early symphonies, providing Joseph Weigl with plenty of opportunities to impress...”[x] Karl Geiringer says of the piece that it “[offers] the soloist opportunities to display a substantial skill”[xi] The third movement  requires the most technical skill. This is most noticeable in the use of the ‘cello’s high register, the fast plunges into the very lowest register, the double-stopped passages, and the semi- and demisemiquaver runs which suffuse the piece. Furse writes that “Virtuosity is a characteristic feature of this final movement.”[xii]

For an excellent analysis of the C major Concerto, please see Edward Niel Furse’s Master’s Thesis, which is available online. Click here to read a copy.

Below are five different versions of the 3rd Movement for you to watch. I make no judgement as to who is “best”, just that all are thoroughly engaged in the piece, and all play with a level of virtuosity which befit the composition we have been discussing. The performers are:

Mstislav Rostropovich
Han-na Chang (13 years old when this was recorded!)
Julian Lloyd-Webber (Love the shirt!)
Daniel Müller-Schott
Sol Gabetta

Enjoy!

[i] Robbins Landon, H. C (1998) The Pre-Classical Concerto and the Concerto Parallel to Mozart. in Layton, Robert (Ed.), A Companion to the Concerto (Oxford: Oxford University Press) p 63.
[ii] Furse, Edward Niel. (2009) Perspectives on the reception of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C, with particular reference to Musicological writings in English on Haydn’s concertos and the Classical Concerto. (A thesis submitted to The University of Birmingham for the Degree of Master of Music). p 42.
[iii] ibid p 5.
[iv] Jones, David Wyn (ed.), (2002) Haydn. Oxford Composer Companions. p 45.
[v] Furse, Edward Niel. (2009) Perspectives on the reception of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C, with particular reference to Musicological writings in English on Haydn’s concertos and the Classical Concerto. (A thesis submitted to The University of Birmingham for the Degree of Master of Music). p 9.
[vi] Robbins Landon, H. C (Ed.) (1959) The Collected Correspondence and London Notebooks of Joseph Haydn. p 8 (note)
[vii] Letter to Anton Scheffstoss, “Secretaire” and Chief Bookkeeper of the Esterházy Administration. German. Robbins Landon , H.C. [Ed.] The Collected Correspondence and London Notebooks of Joseph Haydn. p 15
[viii] Letter to Thaddäus Weigl, Vienna. German. Robbins Landon , H.C. [Ed.] The Collected Correspondence and London Notebooks of Joseph Haydn. p 190
[ix] Certificate for Thaddäus Weigl. German. From an old copy. Robbins Landon , H.C. [Ed.] The Collected Correspondence and London Notebooks of Joseph Haydn. p 190-1
[x] Furse, Edward Niel. (2009) Perspectives on the reception of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C, with particular reference to Musicological writings in English on Haydn’s concertos and the Classical Concerto. (A thesis submitted to The University of Birmingham for the Degree of Master of Music). p 5.
[xi] Geiringer, Karl, (1968) Haydn: A Creative Life in Music (3rd edition, Berkeley: University of California Press) p 235.
[xii] Furse, Edward Niel. (2009) Perspectives on the reception of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C, with particular reference to Musicological writings in English on Haydn’s concertos and the Classical Concerto. (A thesis submitted to The University of Birmingham for the Degree of Master of Music). p 20.

© James Edward Hughes 2011

The Contralto Corner has benifited from the interest of its readers on more than one occasion. Thanks to you, this page is now THE place to find information on those amazing women who sing in the contralto fach.

Once again, we have a suggestion from or readers. Ola Sletvold, who has already suggested two other contraltos, has pointed me in the direction of yet another fabulous singer. 

Aafje Heynes is a Dutch contralto, who focused manily in the concert and oratorio areas of performance, with a key interest in Mahler. Indeed, her perfromance of Mahler's Second Symphony is regarded as a classic.

Below is a video of her performing one of my favourite contralto pieces, the haunting Erbame Dich from Bach's St. Matthew Passion. Enjoy!

“A remarkable man…His intelligence was perfectly clear, but his soul was mad.” Tarik O’Regan’s atmospheric representation of Joseph Conrad’s intense and still controversial novel is a “powerful tale [that] explores themes of exploitation and brutality in the oppressive atmosphere of the equatorial rain forest”. Through the intelligent characterisation, and O’Regan’s expressive score, he explores why one would sometimes rather tell - even believe - a lie, than to give voice to an unsavoury truth. In an attempt to produce a “form of psychodrama”, O’Regan’s first opera (he is only 33) is a mature representation of a difficult theme, which is both engaging and disturbing, though never dull. Tarik O’Regan’s opera began life as part of OperaGenesis when it was work-shopped there in 2008. More information on the Genesis Foundation’s website.

The role of Marlow was taken by Alan Oke, whose precision and vocal control enabled him to produce an exciting characterisation of the man who has “played his part in maintaining the secrecies of the horror he finds so abhorrent.” His acting was spot on, so fully immersed was he in the character, that every move and mannerism reflected the internal struggle relayed in the libretto. His tormented decision to lie to the fiancée of the departed Kurtz was particularly moving. At the other end of the emotional spectrum, the enjoyable “Rivets” scene was humorous and energetic, and the onstage use of the box of rivets as part of the percussion was an excellent decision.

Kurtz himself, the fever ridden, delirious ivory trader, was played by the remarkable Danish bass Morten Lassenius Kramp. The 39 year old had an arresting stage presence, which he used to great effect during his first solo, the raving “I’m glad”. The tessitura of the aria was focused very low in the voice, but Kramp’s lower register was more than able to cope with the demands of this Profundo role. The part of Kurtz was a remarkable one, scored from E2 to E4, and making full use of the whole two octave range.  Kramp was a perfect choice, with a rich sonorous sound from the nadir to the apex of the voice. His very lowest notes, on the phrase “the horror, the horror” at the death of his character, were perfectly audible throughout the Linbury Studio. Kramp is definitely someone to watch in the future.

The interchange between Oke and Kramp was impressively enacted, with the Tenor and Bass performing at either end of the vocal spectrum, and there was a lovely chorus for all the male characters performed a cappella, which was beautifully scored. Tenor Jaewoo Kim portrayed the Harlequin with an energetic mix of the humorous and the sinister, leaping about the crates as he spoke to Marlow. As he told Marlow of Kurtz’s greatness, the scoring suddenly moved from dissonance to consonance: a startling musical device which gave extra force to the Harlequin’s words.

Soprano Gweneth-Ann Jeffers took the dual role of Kurtz’s Belgian fiancée and the African “River Woman”. The touching naivety with which she portrayed Kurtz’s fiancée was contrasted with the raw, often ethereal quality she exuded as the “River Woman”. In this role, her wordless melismas, taking her the full length of the range, were beautifully executed, with her pianissimo notes above the stave particularly haunting. The astral effect was enhanced by the projection of watery patterns onto the wall behind her, and the fluidic, rippling accompaniment, with the tubular bells and the celesta being particularly mesmeric.

The music itself was perfectly conceived for the theme of the opera. The percussion and harp were used to good effect to build atmosphere and tension, and there was a wonderful passage scored for lower strings. The two violins were using harmonics which added to the tension and suspense, though this device was used sparingly to avoid it becoming too invasive. I liked the interesting use of the bass guitar at the end of the opera, where guitarist Stewart French banged it into his legs whilst turning the speaker up to full volume, creating an unnerving, uncomfortable sound.

As for the production, the staging was excellent. The rigging and decking, which remained throughout the opera, was visually both evocative and unobtrusive, while the onstage costume changes and moving of scenery were effected professionally. The lighting was excellent, both the electric and the flaming torches and candle. But the most interesting thing was the slowly rising water level. By the time the opera was finished, the decking was saturated with water, just as Kurtz’s fever had risen to its inevitable, deadly conclusion.

© James Edward Hughes 2011

Tonight’s Rosenblatt Recital saw Baritone Lucio Gallo perform songs and arias by composer Sir Paolo Tosti. Gallo has performed in many of the major opera houses in the world, in roles such as Don Pizarro, Falstaff, Don Giovanni, and Iago, which Gallo believes to be “one of the most interesting roles written for a baritone.” It was, however, at the recent performance of Puccini’s Il Trittico that I first became aware of Gallo’s talents.

Gallo is no stranger to the Rosenblatt Recitals series as he performed there in June 2009. Then, he presented a range of composers, including Mozart, Verdi and Tosti. This time, Gallo will be showcasing Tosti’s arias and songs. Gallo had this to say about the program:

“I have always liked the music of Tosti but in the past I always made a point of singing music by several composers in my recitals, apart from lieder cycles of course. Then after my Rosenblatt recital in 2009, I had a long talk with Ian Rosenblatt about doing another recital and when he expressed his passion for Tosti, I suggested doing an entire concert of his music.”

Tosti had an interesting and varied career. After showing early promise as a student teacher, Tosti fell ill, and had to leave his post as student teacher. When Tosti moved to Rome, his fortunes changed. Giovanni Sgambati, who became his patron, introduced him to the future Queen of Italy, who appointed him as her singing professor. Tosti moved to England in 1875, where he became singing master to the royal family, and later became a professor at the Royal Academy of Music. He became a British Citizen in 1906, and was knighted by King Edward VII in 1908. He died in Rome in 1916.

One of the problems with presenting a recital with only one composer represented is that the style and emotional content can become repetitive. With Gallo and Tosti, this was most definitely not the case. Gallo’s dramatic and engaging style perfectly complemented Tosti’s expressive songs. Tosti’s works display both a full knowledge of the emotional spectrum and an excellent understanding of the vocal instrument.

The recital began with the Due piccolo notturni, of which the second, “O falce di luna calante”, was the most engaging. Gallo’s voice opened wonderfully on the high phrase “non canto, non grido”, while fading away to almost nothing on the final “chiarore qua giù”.

This was followed by the Tre Romanze, three songs with words by Rocco Emanuele Pagliara. Gallo’s forte optional G4 on the final “fugge l’amore!” contrasted wonderfully with the ppp C3’s on the final phrase. The most powerful song in this set was the beautiful Malia which, with a range of just one octave, showcased Gallo’s superb acting skills.

Due Melodie francesi can next, and contained an absolute gem of a song: “Ninon”. The duplet quavers which appeared thought the 6/8 piece gave it a pensive, introspective feel, while the understated piano accompaniment added to the atmosphere of the song. The passage “Ouvrez-vous, jeunes fleurs…si vous avez aimé” was powerfully sung by Gallo, while the following phrase, “Et vous aurez vecu…” was performed with haunting tenderness.

The Due Romanza which followed featured the Melodic “Non t’amo più”, was originally dedicated to Gladys, Countess of Lonsdale. Again, Gallo’s ability to produce an almost falsetto-like piano made for a heartrending ending. His ability to play with the words brought the text to life, allowing his audience to grasp fully the meaning of the text.

The last two arias in the first half were both in English. The first, “Ask me no more”, was full of passion and emotion, with Gallo giving full reign to his voice. The second, “Forever and Forever”, was one of the “hit songs of the Victorian era”, and one can see why. Beautifully melodious, the words of the song are taken from a poem by Baroness Currie (Violet Fane). Gallo’s animated performance gave vent to the frustration and yearning of the lyrics.

We returned from the interval to hear the highlight of the program: the Quattro Canzoni d’Amaranta. The second of the four songs, “L’alba sepàra dalla luce l’ombra”, was a real rollercoaster, with a very fierce ending. The interpolated A4 at the end of the song was perfectly held, with a full, rich tone. The last in the set, “Che dici, o parola del Saggio?”, was wonderfully animated, intense performance. The phrase “L’amante che ha no me Domani”, was particularly moving.

The next two songs were from the Canzoni-stornelli. The first,“La Serenata”, was light with touches of humour, especially in the rather suggestive “Ah! La” phrases. The wonderful pianissimo ending was perfectly placed and supported. In the second song, “L’ultima Conzone”, Gallo once more opened his voice to the full, with a long held interpolated high note on the phrase “Nina, rammenta”, and again displayed his vocal security combined with his emotive delivery.

The final three songs were from the Tre Canzoni napoletane. The second of these, “Comme va?”, was the most vibrant: a dynamic piece with plenty of drama, which Gallo provides so effortlessly. The final song, “Marechiare”, is a true Neapolitan song. Gallo really feels the piece, playing with the words, giving each gesture and movement a meaning.

As an encore, Gallo performed three pieces. The first was a marvellous rendition of the Catalogue Aria from Don Giovanni. The second was a scene from Il Tabarro, which Gallo managed to imbue with as much, if not more, passion than when on stage at the Royal Opera House a few weeks ago which I attended. After getting a standing ovation for the Il Tabarro scene, Gallo came back to sing the dreamy Moon River, which seemed to be a favourite of Mr Rosenblatt himself.

The next Rosenblatt Recital will be on Thursday 24th November, featuring the Tenor Fabio Armiliato.

© James Edward Hughes 2011

Now, this is one of my favourite pieces. It has had many famous renditions, from sopranos such as Maria Callas and Jessye Norman, through a plethora of Mezzos, to a few countertenors. Even the alternative rock band Muse sampled it in the song "I Belong To You / Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix" from their symphonic rock album The Resistance. 

But for me it is the Contralto voice that has that husky darkness capable of seduce the Biblical hero Samson. Recordings by artists such as Dame Clara Butt and Marian Anderson exist, and have their own power, but this wonderfully understated performance by Anna Larsson is possibly the most touching I have heard. I hope you enjoy listening.