I don't give a fach

Let’s just get one thing straight: I ADORE Capriccio. I think it’s genius! While It’s arguably some of Strauss’ best music, the opera is almost never performed because it challenges its audience to think and pay as close attention to the text as to the music. The opera also ends on a note of ambiguity, as it should. But when you consider the Metropolitan Opera crowd - a bunch of literal minded ninnies who just want an evening of Verdi oom-pah-pah replete with a healthy heaping of Zeffirelli schlock - their unwaivering resistance to try anything new or challenging, makes the prospect of staging an usual piece like Capriccio, about as enticing as a lunch with Shannen Doherty. After two excruciating runs of Rossini’s Armida, in a performance that was unanimously considered a huge failure among opera critics, this Capriccio felt like a homecoming for La Fleming and the Metropolitan Opera.

The stakes were almost nonexistent last night. La Fleming is one of the best Straussians of our day, and the roll of the countess has become something of a calling card for her. There was NO doubt she was gonna score a home run with this performance. The vocal writing could have been composed specifically for her voice; her creamy middle register - which has always been her sweet spot - was given every opportunity to shimmer and Fleming did not disappoint. The hunky Canadian tenor Joseph Kaiser, who was a fantastic Narraboth in Salome a few years back, was a highly passionate and impulsive Flamand. There was an element of danger to this hot headed musician and the fact that he shaped Strauss’ punishing, high-lying phrases with lyrical grace was all the more impressive.

 Russell Braun played the writer Olivier with a mix of cool suaveness and rakish poise that emphasized Olivier’s cerebral temperament. It was a perfect contrast to Mr. Kaiser’s intensity. Mr. Braun sang with ringing ardor and plushness which is a very rare quality with the majority of baritone voices today.

Capriccio proves to be an insightful, thought-provoking meditation on process of creating art. It is truly wonderful to have this excellent piece being performed with a cast that can more than do it justice

Either my voice is changing/settling/going to Aruba/whatever…because, apparently, I’m at the age where that happens - this is what Meat Cat spoke of - or it’s the elements. But my voice has never been so altered due to weather; it’s never had such a profound shift in register. Why is my voice moving higher? Will I be a lyric baritone (i.e, totally fucked?) More Valium please!!!

Perhaps it’s the pollen/freaky weather, but my lower register is weak balls. Freakishly, my top has completely opened up! I can easily sail into my upper register and I have a ton of new high notes…this has never happened in my life…I’m scared! What does this mean? THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!!! Still, I had a superb lesson with my dear Wanda. It just keeps getting better. Made some huge strides with Morgen! I might just be able to sing this song.

You never know what to expect when a soprano ventures outside of the world of opera. Renee Fleming, arguably the most recognizable opera singer today, carries the kind of clout that allows her to make recordings of any project she’s interested in pursuing. Her crossover attempts include two disasters that enervate and offend (“Dark Hope” and “Under the Stars”) and a jazz album with some truly astonishing moments (“Haunted Heart”). “Dark Hope” is a silly, pointless foray into indie-rock that manages to alienate both opera lovers and the indie crowd. “Under the Stars,” is a ghastly compilation of musical theater anthems recorded with Bryn Terfel under the inexplicable direction of Paul Gemignani. Sung with a heavy operatic belt against syrupy orchestrations; this recording is a mere footnote in the long and storied heritage of opera singers, essentially date raping the American Songbook.

“Haunted Heart” doesn’t fare much better. Opinions are sharply divided, but I find parts of this album remarkably beautiful. Ms. Fleming began as a jazz singer, and she clearly understands the style and the need to adjust her technique. Her selections are questionable, but her singing, particularly her interpretation of the title song, is sensitive and soulful. She sings with a surprisingly beautiful chest register - meltingly rich with smoky textures - using every color and facet of her voice to paint the words. The album, as a whole, isn’t entirely wonderful, but there is enough to suggest that Ms. Fleming might have a thrilling jazz album somewhere in her.

Ms. Fleming is hardly the first offender. Kiri te Kanawa, has a shockingly vast catalog of musical theater abortions - all sung as Verdi death scenes - her “West Side Story” with Jose Carreras is, perhaps, the crown jewel of her craptastic oeuvre. And The Three Tenors holiday album is a shining example of how to ruin Christmas for everyone!

Singer’s able to bridge the divide, are few and far between. Dawn Upshaw knows how to adjust her singing style, and her Rodgers & Heart album is a delectable treat for the ears.  Nathan Gunn is perhaps the most successful case of an opera singer turned Broadway baby, though he is not immune to pitfalls. His debut recording, “Home,” was a bizarre smattering of sticky pop songs - perhaps personal favorites - sung with plummy diction, heavy vibrato, and a go-for-the-throat baritone bark. When it’s not embarrassing it’s just dull and someone should have advised Mr. Gunn - and every other opera offender - to make a study of the American musical; this would inform them and instill a true understanding of the music they’re singing. All too often, it just seems like opera singers regard musical theater as an inferior sibling of opera.

In conjunction with my article about Le Comte Ory at the Metropolitan Opera this week, I got to thinking about singers today. As usual, the critics had their way with each singer’s voice. The problem is, tastes are so diverse and so personal, it’s hard to really get a general consensus. The laundry list of qualifications - Is it really Bel Canto singing? Is the voice warm enough? Is the coloratura precise? Is the voice too small? - all play an unfair factor in assessing a singer…and you thought the fashion industry presented an unrealistic standard of beauty?

Every critic judges a voice based on some paradigm - consciously or otherwise - and so, most assessments of singers comes down to simple comparison. Here in lies the problem: every voice is different. Every. It’s the same as attempting to judge which fingerprint is the best.

Personally, I tend to favor singers who use their voices as an instrument for the drama. I welcome expressivity, unique phrasing, even ornamentations as long as they are justified by intention and drawn from the text. Sure, there are certain vocal qualities that are not to my taste, and there are voices that are just plain bad. The ultimate measure for a singer’s sound should be, Is this a sound you want to listen to?

But when I’m in an opera house, I want more than sounds. I want artistry, personality, and risk.

Diana Damrau is an extremely talented young artist. She is - by and large - beloved by the opera public for her musicianship and technical prowess.

I seem to be in the minority of people who are not totally enamored with everything she does. She has a beautiful voice - I find it a tad strident at times - and she’s an intense, energetic actress. I just haven’t been moved by her on stage before. To me, she seems to lack any personal statement as an actress and artist.

So, I found myself perturbed after reading Anne Midgette’s assessment of her performance in Le Comte Ory. Ms. Midgette wrote, “[Diana Damrau] phrased with skill and sensitivity to express the nuances of her character’s sometimes outraged modesty. I wanted a little less nuance. Italian opera wasn’t written to be delievered with good taste; I wished Damrau had taken more opportunity to show off.”

As a longtime reader/fan of Ms. Midgette, I found this comment to be puerile and insulting. Clearly, Ms. Midgette wants Ms. Damrau to sing her music with a gorgeous tone in full voice…and nothing else. Essentially, Ms. Midgette is implying that Ms. Damrau’s singing is too thoughtful and personal, when it should just be blandly pretty. Whatever happened to musicianship? Why shouldn’t she sing this music her own way? Without any personal stamp, what distinguishes her from any other soprano? Moreover, isn’t the practice of pulling nuances from the music part of the drama? I would define that as acting through the voice - something which opera critics bemoan the loss of.

More frightening was a blurb on Ms. Damrau in an article by Anthony Tommasini who wrote, “Some critics thought Ms. Damrau’s Rosina in Bartlett Sher’s inventive new production of Rossini’s “Barbiere di Siviglia” this season was too willful and intense; a sweet but resolute young woman emerged as a quarrelsome spitfire.”

What is the point of performing these operas time and again if you don’t have a fresh take on them? It is stultifying enough to put a mandate on singing, but the suggestion that there is only one way to play a certain character debunks all notion of opera as drama. This isn’t literature, it’s theater.

No one asks Kevin Kline to do Hamlet ala Sr. Lawrence Olivier. Why not release Rosina from the clutches of…god. Who knows how many sopranos!?

Every element of the Metropolitan Opera’s new production of Rossini’s  “Le Comte Ory,” which opened this week, has been chewed over by critics and opera lovers.

There have been pro, con and mixed reactions to the director Bartlett Sher’s production; to the singer’s voices; and to Maurizio Benini’s conducting of Rossini’s score. By now, this has become de rigueur for a new production at the Met; since Peter Gelb became general manager, new productions frequently draw mixed to lukewarm reviews.

Gelb has drawn heavy criticism from the opera world in just about every respect. Most accuse Gelb of favoring attractive singers over stronger voices. Others surmise that he’s building new productions specifically for HD transmissions - hiring directors and singers who use a naturalistic approach to acting with a small economy of movement that wouldn’t read from a stage.

This week, in a bold stroke , Gelb wrote an article for the New York Times that addressed almost every accusation aimed at him. It was a fascinating read and I thought it was long overdue.

If you ask any actor or director worth their salt, they’ll tell you that a motivated, believable performance will translate to the stage or screen - a point Gelb emphasized in the article.

Many opera critics feel that due to the HD transmissions, singers have been downsizing their performances; utilizing acting techniques that are too subtle to register in an vast opera house. They argue that opera requires a highly stylized performance with singers using big, expansive gestures.

The rationale for this argument, is that opera is a whole different animal than, say, film or theater and thus, should be staged differently. While I disagree, this assertion is not entirely untrue. Music is the drama in opera and it serves many aspects of the storytelling. However, opera is theater, and nuanced acting does not diminish any aspect of the art form.

Great actors of yore tended to move and emote in ways that, today, would be considered beyond camp. Indeed, using larger-than-life gestures, mannered intonation, and affected speech-patterns, the Shakespeare of the early 20th century, was not the Shakespeare of today. Styles change. Perception changes. By the early 20th century, a whole new school of emerging directors, actors, and playwrites - who strove for verisimilitude and increasingly complex characters - changed everything.

Even screen performances have changed. Just compare any movie from the 20’s, 50’s to today, and you’ll see a distinct difference in the acting styles. 

Opera has long been confined to it’s own little bubble - the preservation of the music has fostered the notion that everything be preserved. But opera must evolve as all other drama has over time. Hamlet’s text has largely survived unaltered through the centuries, but the readings/interpretations have changed and evolved. 

Bart Sher’s production of South Pacific was a great example of how music, drama, and heightened emotions can merge into a transcendental experience at the theater. Lavishing as much detail on the music as on the acting (with an exquisite cast of singing actors), these characters, once thought of as dated, suddenly emerged as living, breathing people. The singing was perfection, the acting was subtle and nuanced; when the characters broke into song, they tapped into a well of complex emotions that cannot be achieved through mere prose.

I’m writing a musical based on the life of Ed Gein. My working title is “No Pain, No Gein!” The 11 O’Clock number is going to be called “In her Skin.”

Yeah…just blew my audition. They, of course, chose the impossible Mozart piece. I know Tosti is fluff, but it really suits my voice. WHY!???