The Concert Muse

Under the music direction of Martin Pearlman, Boston Baroque performed a semi-staged production of Handel’s 1738 opera Serse (Xerxes) last night at Jordan Hall. The period instrument ensemble performed the work with quiet dexterity and precision and created an engaging dialogue with the characters by matching the mood and inflection of each distinct singer in their arias. In this semi-staged production, the orchestra served as central object in the action; the characters occasionally interacted with or hid amongst the orchestra for comic effect and the props utilized were largely orchestral, including piano benches, batons, music stands, and a lute.

Handel’s opera tells the story of Xerxes, the King of Persia, and the romantic entanglements in which he and his brother Arsamene become involved. Xerxes is determined to marry Romilda, even though she and Arsamene are in love. Xerxes is engaged to the princess Amastre, who, disguised as a soldier, hears of his new love and swears revenge. Meanwhile, Romilda’s sister Atalanta is in love with Arsamene, but is ignored. Xerxes banishes Arsamene so he can pursue the despondent Romilda, while Atalanta conceives of a plan to make Arsamene hers. Despite a series of intercepted messages and mistaken intentions the lovers Romilda and Arsamene are united, and Xerxes rightfully returns to Amastre and is forgiven. Atalanta swears to find another lover (slyly passing her number to conductor Martin Pearlman) and all is resolved.

The role of Xerxes was originally intended for a castrato, and for this performance the audience had the extreme pleasure of hearing the rare male sopranist Michael Maniaci in the role. In his performance last night, Mr. Maniaci exhibited stunning power and control over his incredible soprano voice, projecting the pomp and pride of Xerxes in an appropriately demanding, sometimes childish manner. His extraordinary range embraced every note as its center, finding the resonant heart of every pitch with warm, velvety tone. His arias ranged from sensitive and affecting to furious and frantic and his voice quality was consistently rich while completely in keeping with the mood of each aria.

Every member of the cast was extremely talented with a distinct and developed voice quality that embodied their character well. Marie Lenormand sang the trouser role of Arsamene with verve, spunkiness, and a good deal of energy and gumption to cope with the jealousy of Xerxes, Atalanta’s eager love, and Romilda’s hurt confusion. Ms. Lenormand had terrific body language and diction, showing boyish frustration and competitiveness in the spirit of a younger brother.

Romilda was sung by Ava Pine; her voice had the purity and grace of a prima donna, elegantly singing the verses that attract Xerxes and Arsamene and dolefully creating her pathetic arias as she copes with Xerxes’ affections and Arsamene’s absence. Amanda Forsythe played the coquettish Atalanta, engaging the audience in her private schemes with expressive eyes and gestures. As she plotted to win Arsamene by exploiting her charms, she truly underwent a vocal and physical transformation; as she doffed her dowdy black frock and shoes to reveal a stunning red dress and new gold shoes, her voice became increasingly dexterous and rich as she embraced her virtuosic aria with mounting confidence.

Amastre, disguised in a chorus of baton-wielding soldiers, was sung by Leah Wool with understated beauty and determination. Ariodate, father of Romilda and Atalanta and captain of the army, was sung by Mark Schnaible in an authoritative and fatherly bass voice. Michael Scarcelle sang the comic role of Elviro, servant to Arsamene. He balanced the role of the mostly sleepy or drunken character with a bold bass voice that captured the careless silliness of his character without sacrificing quality. He was especially amusing the in disguise of an old lady selling flowers (or batons) that he created with a faltering, womanly voice and a hunchbacked stagger.

Paul Peers’ stage direction made effective use of simple props; a duet through cell phones and an aria of advice from a magazine worked well to contextualize the characters’ moods. His use of the orchestra as an interactive object for the characters enabled the characters to disguise themselves as musicians to hide from those onstage, or feature themselves as concert soloists for particularly self-absorbed arias. Several onstage fights took place between characters; strong physical contact and use of all of the space between the walls of the stage gave a sense of physical action and engagement. With such an unusually strong cast of singers and the typically high standard of performance from Boston Baroque, this production of Handel’s Xerxes was a treat.

Last night was Opera Boston’s final performance of Der Freischütz, Weber’s hearty woodland tale of a marksman who must hit his target or lose his love. The rustic white farmhouse setting and traditional German dress created an appropriately simple village atmosphere. Throughout, the chorus was a strong presence on stage; their voices blended cleanly and beautifully and they served as a terrific mood backdrop, contrasting and strengthening the action of the main characters. Under the stage direction of Sam Helfrich and the baton of Gil Rose, Opera Boston’s performance at the Cutler Majestic Theater captured both the familiar and the unknown realms of the opera with engaging energy in the cast and smooth precision in the orchestra.

The opera’s hero, Max, was sung admirably by Daniel Snyder, who maintained an air of youthful buoyancy from the shame of his shooting competition loss at the beginning of the opera to the temptation of magic bullets that leads him to the dreaded Wolf’s Glen. Andrew Funk was a powerful, tricky and sinister Kaspar, the false friend who convinces Max to meet him in the Wolf’s Glen at midnight to cast seven magic bullets. His resonant bass voice rang effortlessly through the hall and traversed the line of helpful friend and devil’s advocate with ease through subtle changes of inflection. His invocations to Samiel were haunting and crazed and his friendly reassurances to Max were equally convincing. In an unusual twist, Herbert Perry played both the devil Samiel and the holy Hermit, and his wandering, omniscient presence on stage kept both powers imminent at different points throughout.

Act II brought the action to the warm interior of a village house decorated with animal heads and old family portraits, where Max’s love Agathe and her friend Ännchen prepared for the return of the hunters and the possible wedding of Max and Agathe. Heather Buck sang the role of Ännchen with a clear, bright soprano voice that was enhanced by the sparkly perkiness of her onstage presence, busily fussing over wedding decorations and good-naturedly teasing Agathe by pretending to be a young manly stud. Agathe, injured by a falling portrait and anxious about her marriage, warmed to Ännchen’s infectious presence and gradually cheered up. Emily Pulley sang the role of Agathe with warm, voluptuous tone and heartfelt presence ranging from mournful to passionate with endearing moments of girlishness. The balance of the two characters’ personalities melded perfectly like the chemistry of old friends and they shared the stage comfortably.

The effective scene transition from the village to the Wolf’s Glen was achieved while Max stood stationary on stage as the houses around him were turned by stage hands to reveal wooded, craggy textures on the other sides. The stage hands’ movements were choreographed to the music, and with Max’s back turned to the audience, the transition had the effect of a surreal journey, almost psychological, that Max was experiencing. In the darkness, Kaspar calls for Samiel and shines his flashlight around the audience. Samiel, a spoken role, finally answers his call in a amplified voice; the ambiguity of his location in the hall heightened the suspense and Kaspar’s frantic searching with his flashlight created the illusion that he could be anywhere, even in the audience.

The casting of the magic bullets was executed with methodic eeriness. After Max watches visions of his dead mother and Agathe tread slowly across the stage, Kaspar blindfolds the hesitant Max, forcing him against a large target. Here the bullets are granted to him one by one in a hypnotic ritual; groups of marksman, bevies of women descend on him, surrounding him with terrifying and humiliating gestures. The trance-like scene captured the evil surreality of the Wolf’s Glen and Max’s inner moral dilemma with decided malevolence.

Act III opened with a beautifully tender rendition of Agathe’s aria for Max’s safe return, “Und ob die Wolke sie verhülle,” executed with gentle messa di voce and crystal tone. The audience was given some welcome comic relief as a hoard of overly-enthusiastic bridesmaids attempted to cheer the downcast bride-to-be. The huntsman’s famous brindisi, “Was gleicht wohl auf Erden” was performed with the right amount of gusto and sloppiness, with jovial energy and cheerful dancing. Finally, Prince Ottokar, sung by David Kravitz, asks Max to make his final shot and shoot a distant white dove. With the release of the final magic bullet came chaos onstage, as all the portraits fell from the walls and Agathe fell to the ground. With such commotion, it was easy to overlook Kaspar bleeding on the floor. Max’s evil dealings are revealed and condemned by Prince Ottokar, but the Hermit returns to excuse mistakes made in the name of love and deliver the moral of the story. With great chemistry in the leading roles and chorus, Opera Boston’s performance of Der Freischütz created a cohesive and energized story with subtle complexities enhanced by simple and effective staging.

It was a beautiful Wednesday evening for a water and air themed concert in the outdoors. This week, Boston Landmarks Orchestra presented a “Green Masterpieces” concert at the Hatch Shell as part of Landmarks Festival at the Shell. All sorts of environmental organizations set up booths to raise awareness, including the Environmental League of Massachusetts, the Charles River Conservancy, the Massachusetts Audubon Society, Ocean Alliance, and the Boston Harbor Association.

Debussy’s Nuages (Clouds) and Fétes (Festivals) from Nocturnes set the mood well; the lyrical, impressionistic lines seemed to float easily through the breeze. The ensemble was tight and exact without betraying the carefree feeling of the works.

A pas de deux section of Glazunov’s Autumn from The Seasons painted a longing, reflective picture. Breathing, swelling lines composed extended phrases that built gradually and comfortably. The strings and winds contained their relaxed composure; even under the insistence of charging brass lines they controlled the urgency of the building melody for a rewarding climax.

Maestro Ansbacher introduced Smetana’s Moldau from Má Vlast by recreating his vision of this famous nationalistic work for the audience. He described the phrases of this river scenario based on the Czech river Vltava: tributaries gathering, the gentle flow of the main river, a peasant wedding, a heel-stomping folk dance, mist settling on the river, a torrential storm, the return of the grand river theme, and the river flows off. The flutes opened with the trickling, delicate melody that flowed easily and not too exactly. The entrance of the main theme in the violins did not capture the same lilting spirit; they were too heavy and metrical for the light winds and cellos, and throughout were never quite able to breathe with the melody naturally. It would have helped to ease up on the downbeat and envision longer phrases. In the “misty” section, the strings demonstrated good sensitivity and the winds sparkled beneath them. A low rumble from the timpani ominously announced the coming storm. Pulsing, crescendoing trumpets and piccolo gained momentum. Here they begged the violins for power and volume, but the violins held back, and the ensemble lacked drive towards the final ascent. A great decelerando followed, however, and the ensemble settled into a delicate, gentle lull, but was not adequately punctuated by the final chords.

Leopold Mozart’s Bird Symphony opened the second half with three bird noise soloists who fluttered, twittered and hooted jovially. It was playful, spirited, and entertaining, and certainly got the attention of the many kids in the crowd.

Following last year’s Hatch Shell performance of Alan Hovhaness’s And God Created Great Whales, Boston Landmarks Orchestra commissioned a piece about whales from nineteen year old Yale University student Stephen Feigenbaum. The world premiere of Speak, Sing, Whales at the Hatch Shell was a highlight of the concert, although some of the subtle melodies were drowned out by helicopters, sirens, and car horns that all suddenly sounded at the opening of the work. Nevertheless, the shimmering under-melodies formed a beautiful sound floor over which whale cries sounded gracefully. It seemed the bleating, moaning cries were created both by instruments and recordings, but it was never quite clear where exactly the whales sounded, adding to the mystical quality of the work. From its atmospheric opening, the piece gained momentum with intrepid, pulsing under-rhythms. Seamless progression into different moods from aggressive and erratic to smooth and swelling provided unexpected context to the hollow whale cries. Clean and delicate moments of settling were placed perfectly throughout the work. The whales and orchestra never upstaged each other; they seemed to simultaneously be each other’s background. It is a work I hope to hear again in a stronger acoustical setting, but this concert at the Hatch Shell was a fitting location for its premiere.

The orchestra seemed to arrive at Handel’s Water Music with confident relief, fully reaching their sound potential as though they had been waiting all evening to play the classic work. The first movement was perfectly paced, grand, and majestic. The mood and energy of the ensemble was in synch for each movement. The second movement was quiet, relaxing, and comfortable in its own skin. The third movement had exciting controlled energy that swept through the different moods of the melody naturally and confidently. There was no hesitation moving into the final movement where the brass assumed the theme proudly and the whole ensemble followed suit. It was an exhilarating finale to a great concert.

An encore of Johann Strauss’ Thunder and Lightening Polka previewed August 27th’s "Symphonic Dancing" concert. It was tightly executed, lively and fun, but my attention was fixed on an old couple who were dancing the polka on the grass with a spring in their step and a sparkle in their eye. A good time had by all.

On Wednesday night the Boston Landmarks Orchestra kicked off a series of nine free outdoor concerts at the Hatch Shell on the Charles River Esplanade. The concert opened with Copland’s Fanfare for the Common Man, which highlighted the free brilliance of concerts in the open air. The opening trumpet call sounded crisp and clear and led the brass into Copland’s moving chords, paced with noble ease and assurance. The absence of walls in this venue let each grand attack shine through, leading to a proud and triumphant close. Boston Landmarks Orchestra conductor Charles Ansbacher continued the concert with Saturday Night Waltz and Hoe-Down from Copland’s ballet, Rodeo. With Saturday Night Waltz the ensemble settled into a gentle, lovely, lullaby until pierced by the crashing rip of the opening of Hoe-Down. Here the ensemble’s balance faltered; the fiddling strings struggled under the amplified dominance of the brass and winds, but they soon regained a chugging momentum. The xylophone in particular lent a rhythmic power that helped keep the piece moving.

Governor Deval Patrick made a special appearance as the speaker in Copland’s A Lincoln Portrait, a piece with spoken narration of Abraham Lincoln’s words and legacy. The muted orchestral opening created an atmospheric wash out of which the English horn cried a soulful and distant melody, sounding perfectly in the open outdoors. A sudden, sharp violin entrance affirmed the theme and seemed to urge strength out of the orchestra, developing into a heavy, regal buildup. Silence, and a lonely clarinet melody emerged, followed by a sparkly folk tune that settled into a sensitive reminiscing melody. Here Deval Patrick spoke for the first time, narrating a in calm, strong voice with sharp timbre and lyrical inflection. He seemed to feel the words he was speaking as though he was delivering them anew, not repeating a message from long ago. The work had some truly powerful moments; the orchestra created the perfect backdrop to Governor Patrick’s delivery and they worked in synch to achieve a thundering momentous climax. The audience stood in ovation.

Czech composer Antonin Dvorák was inspired by the sounds of America for his ninth symphony, The New World. After a harsh start to the first movement, the orchestra conjured a tight energy for this exciting movement that loosened into an easy lilt during gentle sections. Throughout the movement, Maestro Ansbacher maintained a natural, comfortable tempo and reserved the fullest volume for the end. The second movement, largo, showed some overall ensemble issues regarding transitions, buildups, and balance. The spirited third movement showcased some seriously demanding trombones that built to great volumes and set the tone for the powerful fourth movement. Barely contained energy created a sense of great anticipation. The orchestra deftly handled the extreme moods of the movement, from full and proud to delicate and shy. The energy and volume built all the way to the end landing on strong, pure chords that rang out and dissipated perfectly.

After taking a bow, Maestro Ansbacher asked the audience if we wanted to hear a Dvorak Slavonic Dance and received an enthusiastic response. With no delay, the orchestra attacked the opening of Slavonic Dance no. 8 and delivered an assertive and spirited encore of Dvorak’s dramatic but playful work. The concert closed appropriately with Sousa’s Stars and Stripes Forever; almost everyone stood and clapped with lively animation to the beat.

It was a promising start for the Landmarks Festival at the Shell. With an array of concert themes planned, from “Inspired Classics” to “Red Sox and Apple Pie,” the Boston Landmarks Orchestra has many treats in store for Boston concertgoers, free of charge. Concerts will be held every Wednesday night at 7pm until September 10.

Boston Modern Orchestra Project showcased four diverse new compositions Saturday night at Jordan Hall. Under the direction of Gil Rose, the downsized BMOP orchestra demonstrated exact execution in each of the pieces, translating enthusiasm for each of the works’ unique energies to the audience.

The Conscious Sleepwalker Loops (2007), by Alejandro Rutty, opened the program with a flurry of activity. Inspired by looping recording techniques, the piece offset several rhythmic patterns to yield varied interactions of melodic line. Pulsating under-rhythms created a frantic noise bed to a building heroic melody in the strings. An abrupt cut-off led into a sparkling, playful dialogue between the piano and xylophone, enhanced by harmonic lyricism in the strings. This floating sense of dreaminess melted in and out of panicked disorientation several times throughout the piece. As the piece climbed a slow ascent to the finish, the mechanical winds and percussion urged the intrepid return of the opening string melody. A triumphant trumpet yielded to sad tremolo, a ripping piano cadenza and some delicate, comical final chords. A chuckle in the audience, and enthusiastic applause for Rutty followed.

The Firebird Quintet was featured in Derek Hurst’s Clades: Concerto for Amplified Quintet and Orchestra (2007). The piece opened with severe, resonant pizzicato in the amplified Quintet’s violin, viola, and cello over sporadic wind dissonance. As if the Quintet were exploring their individual acoustic properties in solitary sounds, there was a sense of attack and swell that continued as the Quintet’s bass clarinet and flute made their entrances. The random, textural interactions between the Quintet and Orchestra persisted without much change in color over the duration of the piece. A sudden, lyrical, solo violin line momentarily met a craving for sweetness. The amplified effect of the Quintet was minimal, providing a slightly more intimate sense of sound quality of the instruments, but hardly a difference in volume. An uncertain, fogginess in atmosphere, punctuated by sharp pizzicato and toots dominated the sonic landscape. At one point, a braying bass clarinet herded the winds into a bleating chorus. To the most cynical listener, the piece could be seen as a parody of contemporary music.

Composer and vocal soloist Ken Ueno offered the audience a rare treat of vocal technique and compositional innovation. On a Sufficient Condition for the Existence of Most Specific Hypothesis (2008) is Ueno’s third work for BMOP, and what he calls one of his most personal works, reconciling his own identity as classical composer and experimental improvisator. The piece opened with a recording of Ueno singing as a child, over which Ueno began to hum in unison with solo viola. Out of this was born an exploration of Ueno’s many vocal textures, including throat singing, overtone singing, multiphonics and extreme high register, matched to gorgeous orchestral color that grounded the unique vocal techniques in an atmospheric wash. At the risk of sounding simplistic, one could liken Ueno’s many vocal sounds to a sound spectrum including swarming locusts, a sports car switching gears, fluctuating radio static, the extreme bass of monk chants, wind gusting through a small space, and the soft scream of fluorescent lights. At times, it felt as though live sound existed in his body’s chamber but he was stifling it from release. The tones he produced filled Jordan Hall with unfamiliar vibrations and resonances so that his voice attained an other-worldliness that disassociated the sound from its human element, all the while contrasting it with the sweet sonorities of the orchestra. Met by the audience’s enthusiasm, the performance was a rare treat indeed.

The final premiere of the evening was Lisa Bielawa’s Double Violin Concerto (2008), featuring soloists Colin Jacobsen and Carla Kihlstedt. The composition of the piece was driven by Bielawa’s fond musical friendships with the soloists and conductor Gil Rose: their chemistry was palpable. The soloists engaged in a virtual dance, expressing with their bodies and rocking footwork the tension and release of the warm, ethereal harmonies. The melodies of the three-movement work conveyed a modern impressionism, with beautiful dissonances, color, and sensuous swell and release. In the middle movement, soloist Kihlstadt switched her violin for another waiting on the table beside her, and over the arpeggiation of the uncommonly tuned open strings, she began to simultaneously sing a passage from Goethe’s Faust, beginning “You know, the stage…Let’s each do what he wants to do;” in a rich, straight, clear tone. Amid the dizzying harmonic color of the strings, the winds followed her advice and interjected unconventionally. The trombonist created several random pops as he hit his mouthpiece with his palm. In transition to the last movement, Kihlstadt switched back to her first violin, and engaged in intimate dialogue with Jacobsen over the fluttering melodic texture of the orchestra. Somewhat akin to an eerie love ballad, the ensemble combined to create a passionate, expressive sound that was truly captivating. Having observed the last movement in rehearsal on Friday, I found myself filled with affection for familiar passages and eager to become more familiar with the pleasing, gorgeous melodies of this work that blended complete innovation with a level of comfort and beauty. In this reporter’s opinion, Bielawa’s Double Violin Concerto is the kind of music one could listen to again and again to revel in its sonic pleasures; the highlight of a thoroughly refreshing and inspiring evening of contemporary music.

Director Sam Helfrich’s present-day interpretation of Semele brought the perfect degree of humor and silliness to Handel’s classic opera based on a tale from Greek mythology. The story of mortal Semele’s seduction by Zeus, or Jupiter, and the goddess Juno’s attempts to thwart their love was brought to life with colorful characters and stage direction. Friday night’s premiere at the Cutler Majestic Theater showcased the particular talents of several Opera Boston singers and was enhanced by the sensitive musical understanding of the Boston Baroque Chorus and Orchestra, directed by Martin Pearlman. The orchestra maintained precision and well-honed intimacy with the singers throughout.

The curtain came up on a scene of a wedding banquet, designed to look something like a hotel catering hall, with the despondent bride Semele, sung by Lisa Saffer, curled up on a table, surrounded by her uncertain guests. The wedding is everything mortal; a projected slideshow on the wall shows pictures of Semele and her future husband, Athamas, sung beautifully by contralto Tai Oney, and an EXIT sign glows over the double doors. Semele’s sister, Ino, played by Paula Murrihy, mopes around the room, consumed by her love for Athamas. Murrihy’s firm and rich mezzo-soprano voice contrasted well with Saffer’s more fanciful and bright soprano voice, but did not blend well in their duet.

As Semele sings her love for Jupiter, played by Scott Ramsay, flashes of light and thunder wrack the scene. She sneaks away as the attention of others is drawn to the projector screen, where Jupiter’s face has appeared. The ensuing rendition of Semele’s aria, “Endless pleasure, endless love” was one of the highlights of the production. As the other characters watch on screen, Jupiter turns his video camera from his own face to Semele’s, as she playfully taunts him with coy smiles and coquettish advances. Jupiter enhances the words of her aria with his own lusty gaze, allowing his camera to wander freely over her body. The staging created a split-screen effect, simultaneously capturing Semele and Jupiter’s relationship and the mortal world Semele sings to from above.

The set changed only slightly to recreate Jupiter’s palace in Acts II and III, which worked well enough but was disappointing nonetheless. Margaret Lattimore brought grit to the powerhouse role of Juno, but could have brought out her anger even more. Soprano Amanda Forsythe sang the role of Iris particularly well with exquisite control and smooth and clear tone. As Juno’s secretary, she played the perfect cohort for Juno’s schemes, dutifully and comically assisting her in her various plans.

Act II was overall unremarkable, and the highlight of Act III was Semele’s famous aria of vanity, “Myself I shall adore.” Commonly performed with a handheld mirror, Helfrich’s stage direction properly exaggerated the intentionally ridiculous aria. Juno offers Semele a full-length mirror halfway through the aria, which results in her laying on top of her own reflection by the end of the aria, kissing and caressing her own image. David Kravitz’s portrayal of Somnus, the god of sleep, was another highlight of Act III; his drowsy, rumbling interpretation of Somnus’ aria, “Leave me, loathsome light” brought a great reaction from the audience and outshone Kravitz’s performance as Semele’s father, Cadmus.

Semele’s death was far from theatrical. Handel’s stage directions describe how Jupiter descends in a cloud surrounded by thunder and lightening and how Semele then burns from exposure to Jupiter’s immortal form and disappears in the burst of a cloud. There was no lightening or thunder in this production, and no visual representation of Jupiter’s immortal form. She dies unremarkably, with no indication of Jupiter’s transformation beyond the fact that he is holding hands with Juno, symbolic of their reunion. It was anti-climactic, especially considering the theatrics Handel envisioned for the scene.

For the most part, the characterizations and stage directions of Helfrich’s production of Semele were tuned perfectly. He brought out the bawdier humor in the libretto with suggestive gestures and experimented with technology as a modern interface by using the projector and cell phones as props. The characters were developed with a satirical spin that kept the performance light-hearted, and when members of the chorus got down and boogied to some of Handel’s orchestral numbers it became downright silly. It was unfortunate that this playfulness did not translate to the scenery. Though a more daring scenery palette may have enhanced this production of Semele, the performances of the singers carried the light-hearted spirit of the opera and made the performance a success.

André Previn conducted the world premiere of his Double Concerto for Violin, Contrabass and Orchestra at four concerts this weekend at Symphony Hall. Previn, 77, has served as a guest conductor for the BSO since 1977 and specifically chose the orchestra to perform this world premiere. He wrote the piece especially for violinist Anne-Sophie Mutter, 46, and double bassist Roman Patkaló, 25, who were featured as soloists at the Boston premiere.

The work certainly celebrated their virtuosity. The extreme difference in their sound registers enhanced the playful, dueling style of the solo parts. At Saturday night’s performance, Mutter and Patkaló were spirited and bouncy, confidently exchanging musical ideas designed to exhibit their own talents.

An unaccompanied introduction to the lyrical second movement was a highlight; the performers did not need the balance of middle register instruments to harmonize beautifully. Mutter’s brilliant tone blended with Patkaló's gruff double bass to create fluid phrases that breathed together as one. The emotion of the introduction begged empathy from the orchestra whose entrance seemed conjured by the performers’ alluring song.

The outer movements were perpetually stimulating, weaving though jubilant, confrontational, insistent and maniacal personalities. Mutter ruffled the inherent sweetness of her sound to capture the moods. The solo lines were featured equally and the double bass maintained good volume and clear articulation next to the violin. The splashy, bright color of the work had jazzy undertones that softened its tonal and rhythmic modernity.

Andre Previn and Anne-Sophie Mutter divorced in August 2006, but still continue their unbelievable relationship through music. They exhibited this connection during Mutter’s performance of Mozart’s Violin Concerto no. 1. As conductor and soloist, they read and anticipated each other perfectly.

Mutter’s Stradivarius sang with rich boldness while she moved the bow effortlessly and gracefully across it. Wearing a sunshine yellow strapless satin gown, she kept her eyes closed during the introduction and leaned towards the different string sections as each took over the melody. She executed the first and second movements of the concerto with rich sound without sacrificing a light, agile style. In the rapid third movement she showed a change in character. Her nimble staccato runs were both percussive and airy, creating a trilling, vibrating sound that seemed as though it originated from another instrument. She balanced this fast-paced intensity with a beautiful, romantic cadenza featuring chords that were colorful and precise.

The BSO opened and closed the concert with pieces that did not feature soloists. Mozart’s famous Serenade 13 was performed by a small string ensemble and served as a fitting prelude to Mozart’s Violin Concerto. The small, delicate gestures of the bows mirrored Previn’s subtle conducting style. He seemed as though he was whispering into the ears of each section, drawing attention to the featured gesture.

The concert concluded with Ravel’s Ma Mere l’Oye, (Mother Goose), performed beautifully and lyrically by the BSO under Previn’s direction. Despite its fine execution, the piece was relatively anti-climactic as a finale to a concert featuring the Mozart and Previn Concertos.

Tufts Opera Ensemble staged delightful renditions of Duke’s Captain Lovelock and Bizet’s Dr. Miracle Tuesday night at Distler Hall. Two separate casts performed each opera in one act. Using many of the same props, the actors in both plays made terrifically effective use of the lean and simple sets and realized two very different scenes.

The all-female cast of Captain Lovelock showed excellent chemistry onstage, acknowledging the ridiculousness of some of their characters with cleverly overdone gestures and facial expressions. Caitlin Felsman played Terentia, a hopelessly romantic mother of two young women who is dreaming of marrying a young officer rather than marrying off her daughters. Felsman’s interpretation of Terentia’s character was perfectly balanced; her richer, more matronly soprano voice was poised and clear which contrasted well with her playful, endearing expressions.

Stephanie Kreutz and Carolyn St. Laurence played Terentia’s daughters, Leonora and Laurentia, and captured those characters with youthful soprano voices and comically overdramatic gestures in unison. Their voices blended nicely for their frequent duets. Their maid, Pernille, played by Anjin Stewart-Funai, persuades them to help her play a trick on their mother. They find a matchmaker, played by Robyn Goodner, to tell Terentia of a man who exactly fits her fantasy, named Captain Lovelock. When they meet, Captain Lovelock will really be Pernille in disguise.

Anjin Stewart-Funai shone especially in the double role of Pernille and Captain Lovelock. Stewart-Funai made her character, the maid, seem as good an actress as Stewart-Funai herself. Her depiction of the sassy, scolding maid seemed the most grounded and sane of the ensemble, and her cocky, heroic take on Captain Lovelock allowed hints of her maid’s character to shine through.

The cast of Dr. Miracle featured a quartet of singers with exceptional voices. Dr. Miracle is the story of Laurette, played by Julia Torgovitskaya, a young woman in 19th century Italy who is in love with Silvio, played by Greg Kastelman. The Counselor and his wife, Veronique, played by Christopher Van Lenten and Gena Gorlin, do not approve of their daughter’s suitor. Silvio tries to snake his way into their home disguised first as a cook with a poisonous omelette and then as a miracle doctor with remedies for the ailing Counselor. He is able to manipulate the Counselor into promising his daughter’s hand in marriage, and the Counselor gives in.

Kastelman was sensational as Silvio, taking on all of his disguises with exuberant humor. He jumped hysterically around the stage, taunting the gullibility of Laurette’s parents, and hinting at his real identity. Kastelman, playing Silvio, provided a perfect backboard for Silvio’s banter, and did a superb job asserting his stuffy, paranoid character. Van Lenten’s voice had a smooth, rich tone, befitting of his gentlemanly character, and his jauntily arrogant expressions provided the audience with many laughs. Gorlin and Torgovitskaya were charming as the mother-daughter pair balancing the comedy of the men with their own subtle wit and cunning agendas. Torgovitskaya’s sweet, innocent voice blended perfectly with Gorlin’s rich, velvety voice.

Carol Mastrodomenico was the stage director for both operas and Steven Morris provided piano accompaniment. The ensembles of Captain Lovelock and Dr. Miracle succeeded in producing great shows; both operas could have stood alone as a feature presentation.

The Boston University Symphony Orchestra and Symphonic Chorus tackled Berlioz’s Requiem in a concert Tuesday night at Symphony Hall. Berlioz’s masterpiece, Grande Messe des Morts, is a massive ninety-minute work that was originally orchestrated for almost 400 musicians. The BU Orchestra and Chorus filled the stage with over two hundred choristers and over one hundred instrumentalists.

The Requiem opened with a tender, ascending second violin melody built upon by other instruments to create a full, smooth, and gently ominous sound. The chorus entrance floated brilliantly above the orchestra as each voice part exchanged the staccato chromatic descent of the syllables of “requiem.” The chorus’ powerful sound was deceptively quiet; they unexpectedly released their true forte sound in a dramatic and thrilling moment that foreshadowed the magnitude and dynamism of this performance of the Requiem.

Guest conductor Andrew Litton led the orchestra and chorus with glowing stateliness. As he held the ensemble in fermata at the loudest and most grand moments, his arms were extended fully as if he were feeling the wind of the sound blow over him. Berlioz’s Requiem is particularly challenging to conduct during the Dies Irae and Rex Tremendae movements, when brass ensembles from each end of the hall join in tremendous fanfare with the orchestra and chorus. As the brass ensembles were first sounded in the Dies Irae, Symphony Hall triumphantly came alive as though the roof was opening up to the sky. The brass ensembles were well synchronized and the effect on the audience was nothing less than exhilarating. As Litton turned to face the audience and the brass in the balconies, he beamed with passion and enthusiastically mouthed the beats with the brass, and never lost a beat.

Berlioz’s Requiem is considered to be one of the least religious requiems, written originally to commemorate French soldiers killed in political struggles between 1789 and 1830. Commissioned by the new, more sympathetic French government at the time, it was first performed at the Chapel of Saint Louis at the Invalides for an audience mainly consisting of military corps, lit by thousands of candles. With this in mind, one can hear the many moods Berlioz incorporated into his requiem: triumphant, pious, foreboding and sorrowful. Throughout the Requiem, the chorus and orchestra executed shifts in mood deftly, preserving the most animated exultations for the right moments, while maintaining forward motion and anticipation in between. At those elated moments, it was exciting to see smiles on the faces of many singers.

A program of twentieth-century pieces with appropriate French associations was performed by l’Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France at a Sunday matinee at Carnegie Hall. Both conductor Myung-Whun Chung and his orchestra moved passionately and delicately with the music, providing a performance that seemed driven by true fondness for the pieces.

Two very different works by French composer Maurice Ravel comprised the first half of the concert. Ma Mere l’Oye (Mother Goose) opened the concert and blanketed the hall in a quiet, fairytale-like atmosphere created by mystical, dreamlike woodwind harmonies. Rather than the stories of Mother Goose, Ma Mere l’Oye tells seven fables from the worlds of French writers Charles Perrault and Madame l’Aulnoy. Both authors had a distinctly sophisticated, adult perspective on fairytales. The dances outline the dreams of Sleeping Beauty and glide through moods that range from sparkly, upbeat, and whimsical to haunting and magical. The fluid, impressionistic melody wove through the stories with delightful flourishes of color and dynamics. Ravel originally wrote Ma Mere l’Oye for piano in 1908 and he orchestrated is as a ballet in 1911.

In a completely different style from his usual impressionistic flavor was Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand. Many composers around 1929 were commissioned to write a piece for Austrian pianist Paul Wittgenstein who lost his right arm in World War I. Wittgenstein, (brother of philosopher Ludwig,) was not particularly impressed with Ravel’s modernist approach, but in time acknowledged its greatness. The concerto moves between moments of beauty and discomfort, like a sickness and its cure in one.

Russian pianist Vladimir Feltsman performed the virtuosic concerto with deliberate intensity, capturing the seriousness of the music in every attack of his left hand. The piano part spans the whole keyboard, and has such complex texture that the absence of the right hand is not even noticeable. This furious piece stirred up the matinee crowd with its agitated pace and demanding rhythms, interspersed with periods of slow, tender dissonance. It is noteworthy that Chung used a score only for this piece, presumably for coordination with the soloist, and conducted the other works from memory.

It was Russian composer Igor Stravinsky’s notorious work Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring) that took center stage at this performance. Stravinsky’s vision, born out of a ritualistic pagan dream, was commissioned by Serge Diaghilev for the Ballet Russes and choreographed by Vaslav Nijinsky. It is widely known for its infamous 1913 Paris premiere, during which the audience started a riot that drowned out most of the music. The piece epitomizes the “succès de scandale” and is a milestone of avant-garde composition. Nijinsky’s original choreography called for punctured, percussive dancing that, combined with wild, tribal costumes, enhanced the jarring feel of the music: a far cry from the Sugar Plum Fairy.

Radio France did more than just perform the massively orchestrated score for the ballet; each player’s body language contributed to a dance of the musicians. Stravinsky’s bold dissonances and electrifying rhythms are made tangible in the physical exertion he requires of his musicians. It was thrilling to trace each rhythmic layer back to the instrument or section that was boldly acting out their part. Sharp, purposeful down-bows of the violin section contrasted with the stately strikes on the bass drum and two timpani sets. The performance was a visual spectacle as well as an aural one, and the tension and excitement of the music was augmented by the strain employed to produce its sound. The score requires strict rhythmic and tonal precision to capture its hypnotic quality. Radio France went a step beyond technical perfection and made the piece a living, breathing force that resonated through the floors and walls and left the audience on their feet cheering.

L’Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France performs on the radio in France, and in concert all over the world. The orchestra has 141 members, allowing them to perform a broad repertoire from chamber music to full symphonic pieces. Myung-When Chung has been the Music Director since 2000. At Sunday’s Carnegie concert, he addressed the audience with warm thanks at the conclusion of the concert.

On Friday night, The Handel and Haydn Society presented a concert featuring works by Haydn and Mozart composed between 1791 and 1792, the last year of Mozart’s life and the first year of Haydn’s fame in England. Conductor laureate Christopher Hogwood led the orchestra with fluidity and precision, using symmetrical motions in both hands to conduct rather than using a baton. The Handel and Haydn Society, now in its 192nd season, “is a chorus and period-instrument orchestra” known worldwide for specializing in Baroque and Classical music. The orchestra’s tight, flawless musicianship worked like baroque clockwork and Hogwood captured their spirit in his decisive body language.

The evening opened with Mozart’s Fantasy for Mechanical Organ, K. 608, arranged for strings. The Society held a pre-concert lecture during which the piece was performed in its original arrangement for four hands on mechanical organ. The string ensemble captured the style and unity of the piece brilliantly with tight, forward motion and consistency in the notes evocative of a single instrument. Gentle interplay between the string sections was handled delicately in the beginning of the piece; the sections maintained uniformity as the piece gained drive and edge moving towards the furious finish.

Flutist Christopher Krueger was featured as the soloist in Mozart’s Flute Concerto in G Major, adapted from Clarinet Concerto, K. 622. Kreuger has been the ensemble’s principal flutist for over twenty years. Kreuger blended seamlessly with the ensemble, at times making his melodic line hard to distinguish. The piece gives the impression of a cyclical, runaway melody that weaves through a series of celebratory moods.

Perhaps the highlight of the evening was Haydn’s Symphony no. 98 in B-flat Major, one of his six London Symphonies. The somber, stately opening of the first movement moves into triumphant string exultations. A defining characteristic of the first two movements was the pronounced contrast of quiet and loud sections, frequently exchanging call and response. The ensemble brought out the dynamic extremes without sounding harsh. The second movement contrasted tender, lulling sections with moments of loud tension and release. Hogwood handled the transitions with delicate changes in pace that kept the piece breathing.

The character of the third and fourth movements contrasted greatly with the first movements, conveying a lighter whimsy and playfulness. The light-footed, dance-like nature of the third movement was executed with sharp, tight articulation without becoming severe. The final movement stepped the liveliness up a notch with comical capriciousness. Neither Haydn nor Hogwood took themselves too seriously in this movement; the comically unremitting, insistent notes and overblown pauses employed by Haydn were reproduced by Hogwood in a wittys, fanciful style that radically contrasted with the sobriety of the first movements. Hogwood sashayed to the beat of the music as he conducted. As the piece moved towards an exciting and stately close, forward motion was suspended for a moment with a glittering, eleven-bar fortepiano solo. The optional solo is a delightful display of Haydn’s sense of humor and wit, and was an unexpected embellishment before the triumphant end of the symphony.

Tuesday night was the final performance of Opera Boston’s production of Kurt Weill’s 1930 opera, The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny. Opera Boston has developed a reputation for “presenting innovative repertoire and important but rarely performed works,” as stated in their program. Mahagonny is the story three fugitives who decide to establish a city founded on the four pleasures of eating, loving, fighting, and drinking. They hope such a place will attract unhappy men who will pay for services. Director Sam Helfrich handled this gritty, satirical play with fitting bawdiness.

It is hard to forget that Kurt Weill wrote the opera during the Weimar period in Germany. The opera paints an acute portrait of greed and desperation and the consequences of indulgence and imprudence. Playwright Bertolt Brecht wrote the libretto for Weill; the two collaborated on numerous operas that are a testimony to their artistic compatibility. Brecht’s unpolished, colloquial text complements the swanky, saloon flavor of Weill’s scoring. The text was later translated into English very successfully by Michael Feingold and is frequently performed in English as it was in Opera Boston’s production.

The set was appropriately dingy and used with extraordinary economy. Three porta-potties, a loading dock, a ticket window and a payphone captured Mahagonny’s raw environment. The loading dock that served as an auction block for the prostitutes doubled as a platform for an on-stage piano performance. The porta-potties that shook lewdly as prostitutes wearily entertained man after man, also served as a portal through which God visited the Mahagonny citizens in order to sentence them to the hell they built for themselves. It was disappointing that there was no set change during intermission, but the drab simplicity of the set highlighted the bleak, emptiness of the characters’ lives.

Daniel Snyder stood out as Jimmy MacIntyre, one of four men who journey from Alaska hoping to find happiness at Mahagonny. Snyder’s tenor voice was smooth, rich and youthful, but he added an element of roughness as his character became increasingly jaded. Soprano Amy Burton made her Opera Boston debut as Jenny Smith, the ringleader of the prostitutes who piques Jimmy’s interest and drains all of his money, leaving him broke, the worst offense imaginable in Mahagonny. Burton’s voice was clear and refined but not so proper as to contradict her character’s sassiness and coarseness. Mezzo-soprano Joyce Castle played Leocadia Begbick, Mahagonny’s thrifty Madam who came up with the idea of Mahagonny. Castle’s rougher, chestier voice fit her character’s crude, greedy nature.

Several of the numbers were memorably choreographed as group dances. When we first meet Jenny, she leads the other prostitutes in the famous “Alabama Song” as they arrive in Mahagonny seeking the next whiskey bar. The girls move languorously around the stage, sitting on their suitcases with open legs, applying their makeup in an overtly grotesque manner. Act II depicts each of the four pleasures in turn as they tempt the men and ultimately destroy them. Each one of these scenarios was preceded by a dance sequence in which the men mime the vices. The dance is comic, but as each scene is acted out the recurring dance becomes increasingly depressing as the men get tangled in their own ridiculousness. The opera was a thoroughly pleasurable experience, leaving me with an aftertaste of guilty indulgence.

Gil Rose conducted the Opera Boston ensemble with crisp precision. He was extremely responsive to the actors/singers as they took time to give the music a whimsical, sometimes even mocking, edge. Several of Weill’s songs from Mahagonny have been covered by Lou Reed, Van Morrison, David Bowie, Tom Waits, and the Doors, who made “Alabama Song” a well-known hit. Clearly, the music of Mahagonny is an important part of twentieth-century music and Opera Boston should be commended for producing such a colorful revival of a young classic.

On Saturday night, legendary jazz vocalist Miss Nancy Wilson graced Tufts’ new Distler Performance Hall with a program that included many of her classic hits and personal favorites. Since 1956, Miss Wilson has recorded numerous albums, her most recent of which, Turned to Blue, won the 2007 Grammy Award for Best Jazz Vocal Album.

At age seventy, Miss Wilson still possesses a vibrant and spunky presence on stage. Both a singer and a storyteller, she tells personal anecdotes between numbers that create intimacy with her audience. All at once self-assured and coy, Miss Wilson exudes a bright enthusiasm and confidence that further amplify the power of her voice.

The concert opened with The Lance Bryant Quartet a terrific set of jazz songs, including Nancy Wilson’s own “The Very Thought of You,” performed in a soulful, lazy groove. Lance Bryant led the quartet on saxophone and voice, backed by the outstanding skills of Mulgrew Miller (piano), John Lockwood (bass), and Yoron Israel (drums). Especially notable for their unpredictable but precise transitions, the Quartet showed exceptional cohesiveness in its pace and tempo overall, and set an appropriate mood for Miss Wilson’s performance.

Miss Wilson regally entered the stage in a dramatic long silver gown. She had a statuesque quality about her that was immediately softened when she addressed the audience, explaining that she was going to “chit-chat” a while until the band finished setting up. Once they had, she transitioned smoothly into Van Morrison’s “Moondance,” which set a swanky mood for her opening number and showed off her sassier side. Her voice displayed a clear, bright, full grain that reached the extremes of throaty grit and hushed airiness while maintaining clear articulation and precise pitch.

The songs she performed focused mostly on the themes of love, strength, and nostalgia. She seemed to enjoy especially Duke Ellington’s “Take Love Easy,” savoring the beat with the extra swing in her step and her expressive arm motions. And during the instrumental solos, she playfully mimicked the motions of the band members playing. She both started and ended the song in jovial laughter with her pianist, Llew Matthews.

She followed “Take Love Easy” with John Proulx’s “These Golden Years,” a song from her new album written especially for her. The song, as she explained, was intensely personal and she could only perform it in the right spirit and emotion. As in many other numbers, her voice seemed to communicate a depth of wisdom gained from her life. There was a maturity in her words and phrasings that spoke from experience. Yet, Miss Wilson has unflagging verve and spice, always adding new zest to her old standards, while maintaining her youthful and crisp voice, as she did in her performance of Murray Grand’s “Guess Who I Saw Today,” off her 1950 album, Something Wonderful. In keeping with her cool attitude, Miss Wilson finished her last number, Gershwin’s classic, “How Long has this Been Going On?” and with an elegant wave, sauntered gracefully offstage. The audience barely had time to rise in ovation before she had left the stage and the band continued to play until she reentered for an encore.

It was pleasing to hear Miss Wilson compliment Distler Hall, remarking that it had the same intimacy she remembers from her club and cabaret days and had all the gear of the big venues she is used to nowadays. The audience no doubt appreciated the hall’s excellent acoustics; every member of both ensembles could be specifically heard but still blended beautifully as a whole.

The long time band members showed great chemistry with Miss Wilson. When describing her relationship with the band, she effused that she never went anywhere without them and fondly added “They travel well.” Band members Roy McCurdy (drums), Llew Matthews (piano), and Luther Hughes (bass) responded terrifically to Miss Wilson in both personal and musical characters. She and Roy McCurdy have worked together 27 years since the days they performed with jazz saxophonist Cannonball Adderley and she reminisced fondly with him about several fun times they shared.

Miss Wilson announced the upcoming release of an album paying tribute to Cannonball Adderley, who was a close friend of hers and helped launch her career. Several artists will be included in the collection, but as Miss Wilson quipped, “You can’t pay tribute to Cannon without me!”

Originally from Long Island, New York, I am a graduate student of Musicology at Tufts. As an undergraduate at Tufts, I majored in English and music to pursue my interest in music journalism. I began Suzuki violin lessons when I was five years old and went on to participate in Portledge School’s Classical Ensemble and in the Metropolitan Youth Orchestra of New York. I have been a member of the Tufts Symphony Orchestra for four year and have traveled annually with the ensemble on performance tours to different countries. I uncovered my interest in classical music journalism during my first year at Tufts. Listening to classical music has always been a hobby and a pleasure for me and I consider writing my best creative outlet. This combined interest has led me to choose classical music journalism as a field to pursue. I designed this independent study so I would have an opportunity to review live performances in Boston and on campus and get a sense of freelancing as a journalist. I selected a variety of music, performers and composers, from classical baroque to jazz, from Opera Boston to Tufts’ Opera Ensemble, from Mozart to Tufts’ own composers. I hope this blog will make Tufts’ students aware of the exciting and diverse musical resources we have available to us in Boston and on our very own campus