Santa Fe Opera continues its exploration of Wagner’s music dramas
By Peter Alexander Aug. 11 at 5:35 p.m.
Editor’s Note: This is one of several posts covering four of the five operas presented this year at the Santa Fe Opera.
Die Walküre, the last of the Santa Fe Opera productions I saw this summer (Aug. 8), continues the company’s exploration of Wagner’s music dramas, following the 2022 production of Tristan und Isolde previously reviewed here.
Ryan Speedo Green (Wotan); Back: Tamara Wilson (Brüunhilde); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
The performance was marked by excellent singing, flexible but ultimately meaningless settings, and costumes that ranged from impressive to silly. The stage direction was busy, filled with ideas but no overriding concept.
Jamez McCorkle (Siegmund); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
Many operas today are time shifted; I have reviewed several of these at Santa Fe in the past (La Traviata and Don Giovanni, Rosenkavalier and L’elisir d’amore, Tosca). Die Walküre, based in legend, has no set era, but Santa Fe’s current production proposes many different historical time slots for the story. The opening act took place in an abstract space filled with 1950s appliances, Sieglinde wore a contemporary dress, Brünnhilde was clad in generic old-norse gear, and the Valkyries wore different military uniforms from across the globe and representing the middle ages to the 20th century.
L-R: Valkyries Gretchen Krupp, Jasmin Ward, Jessica Faselt, Lauren Randolph, Wendy Bryn Harmer, Deanna Ray Eberhart, Jennifer Johnson Cano, Aubrey Odle; photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
The set remained abstract throughout—two horizontal panels filled with vertical, elastic cables that characters reach and enter through, that meet mid-stage to open or close as the staging requires. These panels are topped by a walkway with a railing of entangled red ropes, a symbol used throughout to represent marriage—literal ”ties that bind”—as enforced by Fricka. The upper walkway is used by Wotan, Fricka and others, as a viewpoint on the stage action below. As a setting, this is suggestive of nothing at all.
Various non-singing characters appear throughout. There are mysterious figures in black body suits who enter and leave the stage, handle Siegmund’s sword, Brünnhilde’s shield, and move set pieces around. There are actors representing Alberich, who is referred to but not present in the plot; Grimhilde, the Gibichung who will be mother to Alberich’s son Hagen later in the story; Erda, Siegmund’s, Sieglinde’s and the Valkyries’ earth-spirit mother; and other shadowy figures from Ring mythology.
Solomon Howard (Hunding); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
None of this clarifies the plot. Clearly, director Melly Still has many ideas about how to present Die Walküre within the Ring Cycle, but her disparate ideas do not add up. At it’s core Die Walküre tells a simple story—Siegmund runs off with his sister Sieglinde and they conceive a child; Sieglinde’s betrayed husband Hunding tracks them down and kills Siegmund.
But there is no story so simple that Wagner and stage directors cannot make it more complicated, which is what happens in Santa Fe. Wagner’s role, having written the libretto based on the Nordic myths, lies with meddling gods and magical weapons.
The stage director takes credit for the rest, starting with the black-clad figures, who only obfuscate the plot. While the basic action is clear, one is distracted by dark figures posing mysteriously behind the elastic bands, reaching through them, entering and leaving the stage, handling props. There is broader symbolism at work, but none of this helps to tell the story of Die Walküre. Another intrusion that seemed gratuitous was Wotan’s cadre of “enforcers,” military police characters dressed like Star Wars extras or World War I impersonators.
One moment in particular stands out as a missed opportunity. The first act ends with the walls of Hunding’s hut flying open and spring bursting over the twins/lovers Sieglinde and Siegmund, blessing—as Wotan later argues to Fricka—their incestuous love. Wagner’s music is powerful, soaring and blooming. It is expressing something that needs to be shown. But in Santa Fe, the panels open up and the lovers occupy a bare space on the stage. Of spring there is not the slightest visual sign.
Vida Miknevičiūtė (Sieglinde), Jamez McCorkle (Siegmund); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
In the role of Siegmund, Jamez McCorkle reached all of his notes, sang with strong feeling, but allowed a slight bleat enter his voice at crucial moments. This rough edge pushed his voice out, but as often with strained Wagner singers, it did not add beauty to the sound.
Vida Miknevičiūtė portrayed a slight Sieglinde, vulnerable and frightened by her rising feelings. Although light for Wagner, her voice was precise, employed carefully, only occasionally a little wobbly. She sang forcefully through the love duet with Siegmund, rising to steely heights, and melting into her gentler moments.
As Wotan, Ryan Speedo Green was struggling with altitude, or the dry mountain air, or both. While onstage he was handed water through the elastic bands in both acts II and III, and his voice sounded worn by the end of each act. At his best, he was a gruff, confrontational Wotan, consumed by his growing anger at being caught in his own trap. He easily commanded the stage in every appearance. Whatever his struggle, it did not diminish his presence.
Tamara Wilson (Brüunhilde), photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
Tamara Wilson’s entrance as Brünnhilde was greeted with cheers. She was a solid member of the cast, singing with force and power, if not quite dominance. Her interactions with Green’s Wotan near the end was a forceful turning point, in both the opera and for the cycle beyond Walküre.
Sarah Saturnino provided a secure vocal element as Fricka. Her long Act II argument with Wotan—for me one of the most interesting portions of a long evening—was deeply engaging. Saturnino sang with genuine depth and expression.
Solomon Howard brought his big, resonant bass voice to the role of Hunding, filling the house with strong tones. His military-fatigue costuming lent an appropriately menacing air, although I hard a hard time getting past his resemblance to Jimi Hendrix. Contemporary costuming has its perils.
Soloman Howard (Hunding), Ryan Speedo Green (Wotan), Jamez McCorkle (Siegmund); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
The Valkyrie’s calls rang resoundingly over the orchestra, calling their warrior band together. All were potent contributors to the performance. With Brünnhilde, they displayed an infectious joy of companionship. James Gaffigan conducted with a sure hand, leading a performance steeped in experience and understanding of the score. The orchestra, and especially the expanded brass section so crucial to Wagner, played tirelessly over the music drama’s long duration, providing powerful heights as well as more intimate moments of sensitivity.
The Aug. 8 audience I take to have been about 75% Wagnerphiles—two gentlemen in front of me wore horned helmets of felt—who loved every minute of Wagner’s music. They know the story backwards and forwards, and so could recognize all the references and the crucial turns of the plot. They deservedly cheered the singers.
For those less familiar with the story, it must at times have been a mystery.
Die Walküre will be repeated at the Santa Fe Opera twice more, Aug. 13 and 21. Remaining tickets, if any, are available HERE.
Santa Fe Opera presents carnivalesque production of Verdi’s masterpiece
By Peter Alexander Aug. 11 at 1:45 p.m.
Editor’s Note: This is one of several posts covering four of the five operas presented this year at the Santa Fe Opera.
Santa Fe’s new production of Verdi’s Rigoletto opens on a carnivalesque scene: a chorus of courtiers dressed in stylized theatrical garb of mixed styles and periods, including Spanish breeches, Landsknecht jackets with slit sleeves, as well as shirts and pants of no discernible period. A few women sported Marie Antoinette gowns.
Front L-R: Duke Kim (Duke), Michael Chioldi (Rigoletto), Le Bu (Count Monterone), the Santa Fe Opera Chorus; photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
The dark violet color patterns of the essentially anonymous courtiers all match, while named characters—Merullo, Ciprano and the Duke of Mantua—are dressed in black and white. Some jackets clearly have zippers. Rigoletto wears garters with his socks and a stylized jester’s cap. In short, everything catches the eye, nothing pertains to any one period.
Rigoletto (Michael Child) with the decadent tribe of courtiers (The Santa Fe Opera Chorus); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
This eclectic mix in Jean-Jacques Delmotte’s costumes is matched by Julien Chavaz’s inventive stage direction where the opera’s high drama and tragedy is mixed with comic touches that lighten some scenes, but sometimes distract from the real business of the singers. The chorus of courtiers are not only dressed alike, they move in lockstep conformity. They move as a pack, sometimes going into silly choreographic moves, showing their inability to break from the decadent tribe at court.
Chavez goes so far as to lightly mock operatic conventions, as when Giovanna mugs to the audience during Gilda and the Duke’s amply repeated goodbyes. There quiet chuckles are welcome, as in the well considered interplay between the assassin Sparafucille and his sister Magdalena in the final act.
On the other hand, the silly choreography for the chorus while the Duke sings his praise of love in the second act is an unnecessary indulgence. The Duke’s aria represents a critical moment, revealing that he has discovered a kind of love from Gilda he has never seen at court. It does not redeem him, but makes him a more rounded person, and should not be downplayed for easy entertainment, whatever the symbolic depth. The same principle could have been applied elsewhere.
Designer Jaime Vartan’s set for the Duke’s court is abstract, with abstractly decorated mobile flats that are moved around the stage. Scattered among them are colorfully lit pieces that come together at the end to briefly outline the jester’s hat and face, and then disintegrate as the tragedy destroys Rigoletto. The interiors of Rigoletto’s home and Sparafucile’s “tavern” roll on from the wings. Their well designed contrast with the rest of the stage creates a space of warmth and safety in one case, danger and decadence in the other.
Michael Chioldi (Rigoletto), Elena Villalón (Gilda); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
Portable lamps are sometimes used realistically, as light for Gilda’s reading, but also abstractly, carried about by the courtiers representing—who knows, enlightenment? The meaning was not clear to me. Why, for example, is Gilda discovered at court after her abduction, upstage, surrounded by lamps that are then moved downstage when Rigoletto orders the courtiers out of the room?
If the design and direction are a mixed bag, the music definitely is not. From the very first notes on Aug. 7, conductor Carlo Montanaro and the Santa Fe Opera orchestra take the drama in their teeth. Beyond the ferocity of the opening and all references to the curse invoked on Rigoletto and the Duke, Montanaro led with consistent flexibility and expressivity in supporting the singers. Musically, this was one of the most gripping Rigolettos I have seen.
Duke Kim’s light tenor warmed and strengthened over the evening, reaching a high level of passion by the end. His Donna e mobile in the last act was exciting, and his duets with Gilda were wonderful. His portrayal of the privileged, devil-may-care nobleman was winning (or fittingly vile, if you will), both musically and dramatically.
Elena Villalón (Gilda), Duke Kim (Duke); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
The star of the evening, as she should be, was the Gilda of Elena Villalón. Caro Nome was a moment of true beauty, and in every powerful duet—with Rigoletto and the Duke—she drove the drama to powerful heights. She carried a warm sound into the softest moments, beautifully holding out the longest phrases. Her acting was first rate, establishing her loving and confused relationship with her father. I particularly liked the touch of showing her reading, making her a full person, a young woman of genuine curiosity and thoughtfulness as well as innocence.
Michael Chioldi (Rigoletto); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
A late switch in the cast, Michael Chioldi as Rigoletto used his mature voice to establish a character of great experience and many woes. He mustered the power when needed to convey the depth of Rigoletto’s anguish; every exclamation of the curse was grim and powerful. His closing scene with the dying Gilda was chilling.
Stephano Park made a superb Sparafucile, summoning terror with his deep bass to the lowest note of his name. Marcela Rahal was equally telling as Magdalena, adding a flirtatiousness that fits the character and helps round out the final act. The interactions between brother and sister were more than just singing the notes; there was a touch of teasing in their bother-sister interactions that elicited a few light chuckles.
Le Bu sang the condemned Count Monterone “like thunder.” The named courtiers—Ryan Wolfe and Marcello, Korin Thomas-Smith as Count Ceprao, Mary Beth Zara’s as the perky page, and Ryan Bryce Johnson as Borja, all filled their smaller roles well.
The Santa Fe Opera production of Rigoletto will repeat Aug. 15 and 20. Tickets, if available, can be purchased HERE.
Editor’s Note: This is one of several posts covering four of the five operas presented this year at the Santa Fe Opera.
Santa Fe Opera’s production of Puccini’s La Bohème (seen Aug. 6) opens on a standard first-act set: a dingy apartment of Bohemian squalor with views of the Parisian rooftops, here created by projections. Two young men are at work.
L-R: Soloman Howard (Colline), Long Long (Rodolfo), Szymon Mechliński (Marcello); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
The first sign that something is up is when the poet Rudolfo starts pounding on a typewriter. This is not 1830s Paris, and when Mimi enters later in the act, her hair style shows that we are in the 1920s. In many ways this is a good choice: Paris in the ‘20s was a center of the avant garde, young artists were flourishing (think Hemingway and Picasso), and the free lifestyle of the operatic Bohemians was common.
L-R: Efraín Solís (Schaunard), Long Long (Rodolfo), Sylvia D’Eramo (Mimì), Soloman Howard (Colline), Szymon Mechliński (Marcello), Emma Marhefka (Musetta) Kevin Burdette (Alcindoro); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
For the most part, the temporal transposition works well, and it provides great opportunities for the costume designs of Costance Hoffman. Indeed, the second act in the streets of Montmatre and inside the Café Momus (transformed from a neighborhood bistro to a five-star restaurant) is a 1920s fashion pageant. The incongruity of grubby Bohemians in such surroundings, with plain people gaping through the windows, becomes part of the humor of the scene. It is good fun, if it does stretch credibility.
The third act continues the time shift: there is a motorized ambulance (doubling as a spot for a streetwalker’s hookups) outside the police post at the gates of the City. The fourth act returns to the first set, through a very clever scenery shift that earned applause. Colline’s overcoat has a definite ‘20s vibe, as does Musetta’s attire.
This visually engaging production replaces one that was presented in Santa Fe in 2019. It is a great improvement, with all the pieces fitting well together.
This is not to say that there are no issues with Allen Moyer’s set. In the second act, the elegant Cafe Momus and its crystal chandeliers require so much space that all the rest of the action—bustling crowds, busy children, the toy seller Parpignol, the act-ending parade—are pushed into narrow margins of the stage. If there is a meaning to the Bohemians being just more Parisians on the street, swallowed up by the Christmas Eve revelries, it is lost here.
L-R: Solomon Howard (Colline), Long Long (Rodolfo), Efraín Solís (Schaunard), Szymon Mechliński (Marcello); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
James Robinson’s stage direction meets the vital standard of telling the story. The camaraderie of the Bohemians is well portrayed, and all critical moments of the story are clear. He always handles the movements of actors in confined spaces comfortably.
In the name of realism—or so I assume—there are a few crude touches. Schaunard turns his back to the audience and then takes the chamber pot and throws its liquid contents out the garret window. After the third-act fight between Marcelo and Musetta, Marcelo angrily retreats into the ambulance with a friendly protstitue. Is it my age? I don’t see what these touches add to the opera.
Conductor Iván López Reynoso charged into the opening chords. Brusque and brisk, they propelled a quick tempo that thankfully stretched to accommodate the vocal lines, but for long periods did not let up. At times Reynoso allowed the brass free reign, and the orchestra sometimes covered the singers or pushed them to full volume. Otherwise, he controlled the musical flow well and kept the music moving.
Long Long (Rodolfo), Sylvia D’Eramo (Mimì); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
The success of any Bohème depends on the two leading roles, Rudolfo and Mimi. Both Long Long and Sylvia D’Eramo handled their assignments handsomely. Long Long sang with a ringing, Italianate tone, but the sound lacked a sense of freedom and comfort at the margins. Every phrase was delineated and sung with expression, but I did not sense a progression from one act to another. Rudolfo of Act IV was Rudolfo of Act I.
D’Eramo conveyed Mimi’s fragile state from her first entrance. In the softest moments she floated her pianissimos beautifully, and she used her voice well to convey the character’s declining health. I especially enjoyed her transformation from a shy neighbor to a young woman who is warming to the dawn of love in Act I. A blooming orchestra sound sometimes covered her lines, but she was always able to soar above the sound at climactic moments.
As Marcello, Szymon Mechliński sang with a booming if sometimes rough-edged baritone. This suits Marcello, a more rough-edged character than Rudolfo. His was a dominant character among the four artists, at his best in confrontations and combat with Musetta.
Emma Marhefka (Musetta); photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
In the latter role, Emma Marhefka played the coquette to the nth degree. No character was more vivid throughout, justifying the bystanders who are delighted to spy her in the second act crowd scene. The famous Waltz was more languid than usual, but none the less effective with her rich voice.
Bass Solomon Howard made Colline a strong presence, singing with a resounding quality that only occasionally hit rough spots in the “Overcoat Aria” of Act IV. Efraín Solís was solid in the less prominent role of Schaunard, always part of the happy company of Bohemians. Santa Fe veteran Kevin Burdette brought the supporting roles of Benoît and Alicindoro to comic life, singing as well as ever.
In spite of any reservations, this is a thoroughly enjoyable Bohème. The cast is strong, the sets intriguing, the orchestra excellent, as always. And Santa Fe nights lend themselves perfectly to this drama of bohemian companionship, young love and loss.
Bohème repeats at the Santa Fe Opera Aug. 14, 19 and 23. Tickets are available HERE.
Britten’s The Turn of the Screw in a hauntingly ambiguous production
By Peter Alexander Aug. 10 at 1:15 p.m.
Editor’s Note: This is one of several posts covering four of the five operas presented this year at the Santa Fe Opera.
Benjamin Britten’s The Turn of the Screw is a challenging opera to produce.
Based on the short story by Henry James, it is a ghost story about a governess who cares for two children living on a remote estate. The children, Miles and Flora, are haunted, and lured into mischief or worse, by the spirits of deceased previous caretakers.
Or are they?
Jacquelyn Stucker (The Governess), Brenton Ryan (Prologue), photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
As James’ story and the opera both make clear, the question is whether the ghosts are real presences, haunting the house and the children, or the products of the governess’ delusions, phantoms of an unbalanced mind. Whole books have been written on this issue; any production that fails to recognize the question has failed.
Jacquelyn Stucker (The Governess), Brenton Ryan (Peter Quint), photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
In that respect, the current Turn in Santa Fe is the most successful I have seen. The relationships among the governess, the children, and the ghosts of Peter Quint and Miss Jessel, are adeptly handled. The problem is that Quint and Jessel sing, so it is necessary to have living actors onstage. How can they remain figments of the Governess’ imagination, when we, the audience, can see them?
A full description of all the astute choices in the Santa Fe production would require a separate essay, but several critical points illuminate the care taken by stage director Louisa Miller. In his first appearance Quint is only a vague apparition, seen though the window. But after Mrs. Grose, the housekeeper, gives names to what has happened in the past, who Peter Quint and former governess Miss Jessel were, suddenly they are seen more clearly, appearing onstage with the governess. This suggests that Mrs. Grose has stimulated the young governess’ overactive, and possibly paranoid, imagination.
Another telling point is that the children never see the ghosts. When Quint and Jessel are onstage, the children never turn to look at them, in spite of being called by name. Only the governess seems to see and hear the ghosts, and only she speaks to them. So the ghosts, if such they are, remain suggestions more than characters. Anything else can be explained by the fact that Quint and Jessel did interact with—and possibly lead astray—the children in the past. When Quint tells Miles to steal a letter, it could just as reasonably be a young boy’s naughty impulse pushing him to mischief. His later explanation—“I wanted to know what you wrote about us”—rings true.
Annie Blitz (Flora), Everett Baumgarten (Miles), Jacqulyn Stucker, photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
It would be a mistake to overlook one innovation of this production. Britten’s score is divided into scenes and and purely orchestral interludes between them. Miller makes use of the interludes—usually played without action—for symbolic events, or to show the children playing (and kudos for the delightful period play, from hoop trundling to a play theater) with the governess joining in. The plot focuses on the descent to tragedy, ignoring the rest of the children’s lives and their happier interactions with the governess. These pantomime sequences add depth to all of of the characters.
In short, Miller’s direction carefully treads the line between ghost story and psychological case study. (It is useful to recall that Henry James’ brother William is one of the founders of modern psychology). She correctly leaves it to the audience to decide which version of the story is true—or to leave it undecided.
The scenic design is credited to Christopher Oram, as a Canadian Opera Company production that originated at the Garsington Opera in England. It has effectively been fit onto Santa Fe’s stage, where lighting by Malcolm Rippeth successfully adds to the suggestive, murky ambience of the setting.
The Aug. 5 cast was uniformly strong in presenting both music and character. The diction was always clear and understandable, a testament to both Britten’s care in scoring the opera and the singers’ efforts. Brenton Ryan brought a bright tenor voice to both the prologue and the role of Peter Quint. His alluring roulades, tailored for the original Quint of Peter Pears, were unexceptionable. In one of the more telling touches, the staging of the prologue briefly conflates Quint and the absent guardian, raising more questions of motive and reality.
Jacquelyn Stucker was an ideal Governess, with a clear and delicate sound at the outset. She gave a well considered performance; as the opera progressed, she became more unstable and desperate in her characterization, and her tone more brittle and biting in quality. In voice and presence, Jennifer Johnson Cano portrayed a stolid and sometimes baffled housekeeper. She sang with security, blending into the ensemble and never dominating the musical texture.
The two young characters were beautifully performed by treble Everett Baumgarten as Miles and young soprano Annie Blitz as Flora. Baumgarten’s pure sound was always audible, and was alluring in his eerie “Malo, malo.” Blitz’s voice was focused, consistently on pitch but at times piercing.
Wendy Bryn Harmer (Miss Jessel), photo by Curtis Brown for the Santa Fe Opera
Wendy Bryan Harper provided a brooding presence as Miss Jessel. Her slightly pushed tone suggested a character under pressure, never quite at ease. Otherwise, little acting was required, as she drifted phantom-like on and off the stage, usually through the onstage pond that represented both the estate’s lake, and its symbolism as a boundary space between the real and unreal.
It would be hard to overpraise the orchestral players in the pit. Britten’s virtuoso score for an ensemble of 13 players was ably led by conductor Gemma New, who convincingly knit the various musical elements together, from scene to interlude to scene, and brought out the shifting moods of the evocative score. While all the players mastered the virtuoso demands of their parts, special notice should be taken of prominent percussion passages throughout.
NOTE: The 2025 performances of Turnof the Screw have come to an end.
Time to tend the garden and try to make some sense of life
By Peter Alexander July 30 at 12 noon
I am writing this post to let you know that at the end of the summer I will give up my work on Sharpsandflatirons.com. My reviews of the 2025 summer season at the Santa Fe Opera are the last posts I plan to make. That is a suitable place to end, since I first attended the Santa Fe Opera in the original opera house nearly 60 years ago, while I was still an undergraduate music student. Santa Fe has remained a favorite location for experiencing, and learning, great opera for all of those years.
The author while traveling in Asia, before he turned 80
Fourteen years ago I took up work as a music journalist covering classical music in “Boulder & Environs” as a way of making productive use of the extraordinary education I was fortunate enough to receive. It was also a way of giving back to the greater world of music in a small way, on the fringes of our shared musical life.
As the proprietor of the site, I got to define the environs, which certainly include Santa Fe, since it is within a one-day drive of Boulder—and the food in Santa Fe is fabulous. When there were Boulder connections, I have also reviewed operas in Minneapolis and Seattle—just coincidentally, the cities where my two oldest sons live.
I will maintain the site for now, only adding a post if I discover something really important to report: a news event in the local music world, or an issue I feel compelled to comment on. But I don’t think that is very likely, so don’t wait for me, or for Godot.
I have enjoyed getting to know all the musicians in the Boulder area, working with all of them, and bringing their activities to the attention of potential audiences. But I am now 80, and it is better to step back while I am still doing good work, rather than letting it decline. Besides, there are so many great British TV shows still to watch, great Russian novels to read, obscure operas to track down and see, and work to be done tending my back yard and making my garden grow.
If you see me in the lobby, say “Hi.”
And let us try, Before we die, To make some sense of life. We’re neither pure, nor wise, nor good We’ll do the best we know. We’ll build our house and chop our wood And make our garden grow… And make our garden grow.
Peter Oudjian to conduct famous last symphonies by Beethoven and Mahler
By Peter Alexander July 26 at 5:00 p.m.
Music director Peter Oundjian will conclude the 49th Colorado Music Festival (CMF) this week with performances of two very different ninth symphonies.
CMF Music director Peter Oundjian conducting the CMF Festival Orchestra
Thursday and Friday will see performances of one of the most famous symphonies ever written, Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9 in D minor for full orchestra, chorus and soloists (7:30 p.m. July 31 and 6:30 p.m. Aug. 1; full programs below). Two shorter works will fill out the program both evenings: Amplify, a short work for orchestra co-commissioned by CMF from composer Michael Abels; and Beethoven’s Elegischer Gesang (Elegiac song), op.118, for string quartet and vocal quartet.
Dover Quartet. Photo by Roy Cox.
The Sunday concert will feature a much less frequently performed Ninth Symphony, that of Gustav Mahler. At 87-plus minutes, the symphony stands alone on the program. “Mahler 9 is just enough of an experience for a listener, or for that matter for an orchestra or even for a conductor,” Oundjian says. “I have done it with other pieces, but I think it’s better just to say, ‘here’s an epic thing.’ It’s more than fulfilling by any measure.”
The week begins with a chamber music concert by the Dover Quartet, playing string quartets from the heart of the 19th-century to late Romantic era: music by Schumann, Tchaikovsky and Leoš Janáček. (See program below.) The Dover Quartet was formed by four students at the Curtis Institute in 2008, and is currently the Penelope P. Watkins ensemble in residence at Curtis.
The culmination of Beethoven’s career, the Ninth Symphony was first performed in May of 1824. It was a revolutionary work at the time, both for its great length and for the inclusion of voices in a symphony. When he wrote it, Beethoven was profoundly deaf, at the end of the performance the composer, who was standing onstage, had to be turned around by one of the singers so that he could see the cheering audience.
Alto Caroline Unger, who is said to have turned Beethoven to see the cheering audience for the Ninth Symphony.
Today the Ninth Symphony has become the favorite classical piece for celebrations, largely due to its joyful finale based on Friedrich Schiller’s poem “Ode to Joy.” It was famously performed in Berlin in 1989 by Leonard Bernstein and a combined orchestra from East and West Germany to celebrate the fall of the Berlin Wall, with the word “Freude” (Joy) replaced in the text with “”Freiheit” (Freedom).
As much as he loves the entire work, Oudjian says it’s “the profundity, beauty and sense of longing that the slow movement displays” that makes the Ninth a great work. “The depth of this slow movement is for me the peak of the experience,” he says.
“This is among the greatest (musical) variations that was every written. The way he uses the skill of embellishment and transformation among the most important elements (goes) beyond what one could ever imagine.”
Due to the impact of the symphony, and the fact that long after no major composer wrote more than nine symphonies, a legend grew that there was a supernatural limit on the number of symphonies one could write. No one bought into that legend more than Mahler, who avoided as long as possible writing a Ninth symphony. In fact, after his 8th, he called his next major piece Das Lied von der Erde (The song of the earth) rather than a symphony.
Gustav Mahler in New York shortly after the completion of his Ninth Symphony.
Having safely completed Das Lied, Mahler went on to complete his Ninth Symphony. Ironically, it was still his last completed symphony, although his Tenth has been completed by various editors based on one mostly finished movement and sketches.
As profound as it is, Mahler’s Ninth is not played nearly as often as Beethoven’s. That may be in part because it takes such focus to shape the music over such a long span of time. For Oundjian, the key is to conceive of the performance as a journey.
“[It takes] a tremendous amount of concentration, but you never say ‘Oh my god, I’ve still got to be playing this for 25 more minutes’,” he says. “You’re just thinking about where you are in the journey, and what’s coming and how important this moment is.”
In contrast to Beethoven’s Ninth, Mahler’s Ninth is less a grand celebration and more a final reduction of the symphony into its smallest elements. “Deconstruction is exactly what happens,” Oudjian says. “You have one little gesture that lasts a few notes, then another gesture that removes a couple of notes, and finally just a cadence.”
The key to understanding the Symphony is to hear how the very contrasting movements outline the journey from start to finish. “The first movement is the greatest expression of anguish that you could imagine, but also a strange kind of optimism,” Oundjian says. “The second movement is really bizarre, looking backwards to a simpler time, the Baroque or early classical period.
CMF Music Director Peter Oundjian
“The third movement looks forward to modernism in a way that you could never imagine. It sounds like Shostakovich or Hindemith half the time—later composers (who) were very influenced by Mahler. And the final movement is a statement unlike any other. It’s about eternal beauty and longing and possibility, and perhaps the end is an image of the afterlife, or even the journey between one life and the next. But it’s staggeringly beautiful and it uses silences in a way that no composer had ever dared to do.”
And in the end, Mahler’s silences will help close the 49th Colorado Music Festival.
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Colorado Music Festival, Peter Oundjian, music director Tuesday, July 29–Festival Finale, Sunday, Aug. 3 All performances in Chautauqua Auditorium
Tchaikovsky: String Quartet No. 1 in D major, op. 11
7:30 p.m. Tuesday, July 29
Festival Orchestra Concert Colorado Music Festival orchestra and the St. Martin’s Festival Singers Peter Oundjian, conductor With Lauren Snouffer, soprano; Abigail Nims, mezzo-soprano; Issachah Savage, tenor; and Benjamin Taylor, baritone
Michael Abels: Amplify (CMF co-commission)
Beethoven: Elegischer Gesang (Elegiac song), op. 118 —Symphony No. 9 in D minor, op. 125
7:30 p.m. Thursday, July 31 6:30 p.m. Friday, Aug. 1
Festival Finale Colorado Music Festival Orchestra, Peter Oundjian, conductor
Mahler: Symphony No. 9
6:30 p.m. Sunday, Aug. 3
Remaining tickets for these performances available through the CMF Web Page.
Anne Akiko Meyers plays moving new work by Eric Whitacre at CMF
By Peter Alexander July 18 at 1:20 a.m.
The Colorado Music Festival Orchestra presented a program of deeply expressive music last night (July 17), including a new work for violin and string orchestra by the American composer Eric Whitacre.
Chautauqua Auditorium. Photo by Geremy Kornreich.
The program, under the direction of music director Peter Oundjian, featured the violinist Anne Akiko Meyers as soloist. In addition to Whitacre’s The Pacific Has No Memory, Meyers gave a polished and captivating performance of Ravel’s virtuoso showpiece Tzigane.
The concert opened with Aaron Copland’s beloved Appalachian Spring. Written for the Martha Graham Dance Company, the music features kaleidoscopic changes of mood, from moments of quiet contemplation to moments of exuberant energy. These are more than changes of feeling; the music should reflect—or better yet—activate movement.
Oundjian and the Festival Orchestra ably captured that spirit. The quiet moments projected a delicate calmness of spirit. The hushed opening was a little hurried, but elsewhere the shifts of mood were well marked, the animated passages bursting with energy. In their solos, the winds played with great delicacy—especially the fluid clarinet solos of principal Louis DeMartino.
Anne Akiko Meyers
After the Copland, Meyers came on the stage for Tzigane, a colorful exploration of Roma fiddle tunes. From the first note, Meyers opened the floodgates of expression. Her identification with the music’s passionate spirit was reflected in her facial expressions and her dancing movements as she played. The performance was pure entertainment on the highest level.
Meyers introduced Whitacre’s piece by telling of her personal experience during the January fires in Southern California, when she and her family had to evacuate their Pacific Palisades home. Whitacre’s score memorializes the terrible losses in those fires.
In writing the music, he was inspired by the film The Shawshank Redemption, in which a character dreams of a beach on the Pacific Ocean, which he says “has no memory.” Whitacre used that thought as the source of the music’s title, The Pacific Has No Memory, and to symbolize the washing away of harsh memories.
The music is suffused in a feeling of loss, but also consolation. In its gentle beauty, the score formed an oasis of calm at the center of the concert. No doubt reflecting her own sense of loss, Meyers gave a performance of deep expressivity.
After intermission, Oundjian has chosen works from the 19th-century that portray lovers from Shakespeare, but of wildly divergent types. First was the Overture to Béatrice and Bénédict by Berlioz. Based on Much Ado About Nothing, Berlioz’s opera follows the mad adventures of two lovers who engage in happy disputes and cheerful sparring, before finding a happy ending.
The music is flighty, protean in its moods and extreme in its contrasts. Oundjian and the Festival Orchestra embraced all the fickle leaps and bounds of the score, making it come vividly to life. As always, the Festival Orchestra negotiated the most extreme contrasts of volume, including the faintest pianissimos.
This is French music at its most effervescent, something I wish we heard more of in Boulder. And if you want to know the source of Berlioz’s uniquely mercurial style, listen to Rameau—something you are sadly unlikely to hear in the concert hall.
The second Shakespearean subject does not have a happy ending: Tchaikovsky’s Fantasy Overture Romeo and Juliet. Incorporating what Oundjian considers “one of the most beautiful melodies ever,” this one of the most eminent of war horses. But more than the love theme, memorable as it is, Tchaikovsky’s music expresses the conflict between the families, the street brawl, Juliet’s funeral procession, and the fateful blow of tragedy.
From the breathless emotion of adolescent infatuation, the love theme builds into struggle, then into transfiguration, and what one hopes is sorrowful realization and reconciliation. All of that is present in the music, and in the performance by the Festival Orchestra. In all—familiar works well played, a new work beautifully introduced, a brilliant soloist—this was one of the most invigorating concerts I have heard at CMF.
The program will be repeated at 6:30 tonight (July 18) at the Chautauqua Auditorium. Tickets are available HERE.
Two entertaining comedies and a grim story from the home front at Central City
By Peter Alexander July 15 at 1:52 p.m.
Central City Opera (CCO) opened their summer season June 28 with a brisk and bubbly production of Rossini’s 1816 comedy The Barber of Seville. The summer’s other stylistically varied productions have now opened: The Knock, a 21st-century tale of life on the home front during the Iraq war, composed in 2020 by Alessandra Verbalov with libretto by Deborah Brevoort, on July 5; and the 1959 Broadway hit Once Upon a Mattress by Mary Rodgers and Marshall Barer, on July 12.
Central City Opera House. Photo by Ashraf Sewailam.
The Barber of Seville is presented with brilliantly colorful sets and costumes that belong to the Opera Theatre of St. Louis. Eric Sean Fogel’s Director’s Notes say that Barber has been placed “in 1930s Spain,” but that concept is almost irrelevant since it hardly touches the story. Stage design by Andrew Boyce reveals Rossini’s raucous comedy dressed up in bright, tropical colors—all yellow and pink on stage, plus a bright red sofa in the form of Rolling-Stones-reminiscent lips.
Costume design is by Lynly Saunders. She describes Barber as an opera “where you can really let loose,” and let loose she does. From police in 1930s-style uniforms—the one period reference that is unmistakable—each with one incongruously colorful sleeve, and giant sunflowers instead of rifles, to ridiculously overpuffed balloon pants and a garishly non-matched coat (or is it “power clashing”?), the costumes reveal a designer gleefully run wild. The crescendo of colors culminates with a joyful competition of surprise costume reveals by Almaviva and Rosina just before opera’s end. I can’t imagine anyone not being delighted by the over-the-top riot of colors.
Barber of Seville cast, L-R: Ashraf Sewailam (Dr. Bartolo), Stefan Egerstrom (Don Basilio), Lisa Marie Rogali (Rosina), Andrew Morstein (Almaviva), and Laura Corina Sanders (Berta); Luke Sutliff (Figaro), above. Image by Amanda Tipton Photography
Stage director Fogel does not shy away from pure farce, but as a cast member reminded me, Barber of Seville is supposed to be farce. There are multiple doors, people popping in and out unexpectedly, pratfalls, a piano wider than the stage, and even a collapsing chair. Whether the manic silliness ever crosses a line will be a matter of individual taste. For me it pushed the line, but the hilarity was irresistible from beginning to end.
The vocally strong cast embraced the production’s style with exuberant energy. As Almaviva, Andrew Morstein had difficulty negotiating registers at the outset and sounded strained at top volume, but was comfortable and sang with expression in his gentler moments. He got stronger across the evening, managing Rossini’s leaps and runs with increasing security, and finished as a winning romantic lead.
Luke Sutliff made a terrific Figaro, filling the theater with his voice and his personality. As Fogel observes in his notes, Figaro is the barber of the title, but the young lovers Almaviva and Rosina want to capture our attention. The direction and Sutliff’s performance make Figaro both the factotum who gets things done in Seville and the mainspring of the opera’s action, as he should be.
Ashraf Sewailum, known locally from previous performances at Central City, the University of Colorado Eklund Opera Company, and numerous concert appearances in Boulder, was brilliantly blustering and periodically baffled as Dr. Bartolo. His full bass voice easily filled Central City’s house. Both his musical phrasing and comic timing made him one of the stars of the show.
L-R: Rosina (Lisa Marie Rogali), Count Almaviva (Andrew Morstein), Figaro (Luke Sutliff) and Dr. Bartolo (Ashraf Sewailam). Image by Amanda Tipton Photography
Mezzo-soprano Lisa Marie Rogali lent her strong, resonant lower register and bright, sweet upper notes to the role of Rosina. Her melting lyricism and confidence in the coloratura passages made her trademark aria “Una voce poco fa” a highlight. Happily she captured the strength and determination of the character, avoiding cliches of the submissive ward and previewing the independent countess of Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro.
Stefan Egerstrom humorously portrayed Don Basilio as a purse-carrying, prancing dandy. His on-target performance was one of the keystones of the interpretation of Barber as farce. Equally fit for her comic role was Laura Corina Sanders as Berta, the unruly servant. She took full advantage of the possibilities the over-the-top production style offered her character.
Louis Lohraseb, who has conducted opera in Rome, Hamburg, Dresden and Berlin, made his Central City Opera debut leading Barber. Under his baton, the orchestra played with stylish restraint, never overpowering the singers. The overture was bright and energetic, despite a few soggy moments.
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Nestled between two comedies, Aleksandra Vrebelov’s The Knock tackles the deeply serious question of the hidden pain and tragedies of war. During the 2003–11 Iraq war, American military wives endure a long night of suspense when they are cut off from communication with their husbands in Fallujah. The title refers to the dreaded knock on the door, when a military officer will officially notify one of them of her husband’s death.
Vrebalov’s score was receiving only its second full stage production, since the planned premiere at the 2020 Glimerglass Festival had to be presented on film, due to COVID. The performance at Central City was a fitting regional premiere, as The Knock is set in and around Ft. Carson, Colorado.
Born in Serbia, Vrebalov directly experienced the horrors of war during the 1998–99 Kosovo War and the devastating NATO bombing of her hometown of Novi Sad. This experience stands behind several of her most successful pieces.
In The Knock, her subtle music expresses the rising tension among the military wives at home through steady background chords and ostinato patterns that increase in intensity. A sharp and expressive score, it signals the buildup of despair and fear without resorting to bombast.
The three houses that form the setting of The Knock. Downstage, Lt. Robert Gonzalez (Armando Contreras) gets the call to deliver “the knock.“ Photo by Lawrence E. Moten III.
The evocative set by Lawrence E. Moten III comprises brightly lit outlines of three houses, those of Jo, Aisha, and an unnamed other military wife. A row of tiny houses across the front of the stage, sometimes lit from inside, represent the larger community of military families. In the back, the outline of Colorado mountains can be seen against a deep blue late-evening sky that is symbolically lit with stars at show’s end.
Three characters dominate the action. Joella “Jo” Jenner is a young wife and mother of two who is undergoing her first nighttime vigil waiting for word from the battlefield. Portraying a nearly one-dimensional character—the mother terrified for herself and her children—Mary-Hollis Hundley ably expresses Jo’s unease and her fragility.
Aishah (Cierra Byrd) tried to console Jo Jenner (Mary-Hollis Hundley). Image by Amanda Tipton Photography
Paired with Jo is Aishah McNair, a more experienced military wife who tries to offer support and perspective to the young mother. Cierra Byrd gave Aishah depth, especially near the end when launching the number “When the person you love is far away,” which blooms into an ensemble number. Her warm, smokey contralto complimented Hundley’s more delicate soprano throughout their scenes together.
Lt. Roberto Gonzalez is a young soldier tormented by being stationed in the U.S. while his comrades face combat. He has been tapped to deliver the mournful news—the knock—for the first time, leaving him nervously trying to fulfill the duties as described in the manual.
Lt. Gonzalez (Armando Contreras) agonizes over his duty to deliver the news of a soldier’s death. Photo by Lawrence E. Moten III.
Baritone Armando Contreras overplayed Gonzalez’s stress, staying at a high volume and almost shouting his way through parts of the role. His repeated invocations of the Virgin de Guadalupe were more than needed, since his sincere faith and apprehension are evident from the start. His lovely singing in the concluding ensembles, when Lt. Gonzalez relaxes into tender feelings for the women he confronts, show that he has a wider range of expression and styles than are heard for most of the opera.
Conductor David Bloom managed the mixed chamber ensemble in the pit comfortably, keeping the music moving through the rather extreme emotional ups and downs of the characters. Moritz’s stage direction effectively kept the action clear, as it moved from separate houses, to one house where the wives gathered, to scenes of Lt. Gonzalez facing his fears while traveling cross country.
The poignant conclusion of the opera—with one wife facing a devastating development and the others embracing relief—provides music that expresses both sentiments, or as the text has it, “Joy and Sorrow.” And the concluding lines describing the folded flag that every war widow receives, “Blue and Stars are All that will Remain,” remind us eloquently of the show’s central point, that the ripples of war’s tragedies spread across society. It is a sobering moment in a powerful piece.
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Once Upon a Mattress, which opened Saturday (July 12), was the first full-length Broadway show by Mary Rodgers, daughter of the famed Broadway composer Richard Rodgers who was half of the musical-comedy teams of Rodgers & Hart and Rodgers & Hammerstein. Growing up in so musical an environment, Mary Rodgers naturally took to composing as a teenager, and had a very successful career writing music for children’s records, musicals and reviews, and was the author of several children’s books.
Her one big Broadway hit, Once Upon a Mattress opened in 1959 and perfectly fits the mold of 1940s and ‘50s musicals. It offers ample opportunities for catchy songs, quirky characters, a heavy dose of theatrical silliness, and a thoroughly happy ending. The music is never compelling or deeply memorable, but it is never less than pleasant. The book is full of gags and jokes that elicited hearty laughter from the audience on Saturday.
Ensemble cast of Once Upon a Mattress. Princess Winifred (Marissa Rosen) draped with weeds from the moat, center. Image by Amanda Tipton Photography
The plot skates cheerfully on the surface of the Hans Christian Anderson tale of “The Princess and the Pea,” with a goofy young Prince dominated by a despotic mother who will only allow him to marry a proper princess. In the meantime, no one in the kingdom—or is it queendom, since his father is mute?—is allowed to marry until the timid Prince Dauntless the Drab is wed to a suitably, queen-approved mate.
A hopeful candidate shows up in the form of Princess Winifred the Woebegone from a marshy realm—the Broadway debut role of Carol Burnett in 1959. Queen Aggravain has imposed a test on every potential bride, which all have failed. For Winifred she devises the pea under 20 mattresses (actually 14 at Central City), with the expected result.
All of these more or less stereotyped characters were portrayed with the broad humor the show wants. Everyone in the cast had a suitably lyrical musical theater voice, capable of crooning all the ballads and other musical numbers of the score. There are a few solo numbers and many duets and ensemble numbers, all well handled by the consistency solid cast.
Margaret Gawrysiak was everything you could want for Queen Aggravain—imperious, haughty, comically unyielding and too eager by half to rule out potential brides. Michael Kuhn was an ideal Prince, completely under the sway of his controlling mother, with just the right touch of modern nerdiness thrown in. Marissa Rosen made an especially strong impression as Princess Winifred, with just enough of her own nerdiness to captivate Dauntless. She projected the latent athleticism fitting for a princes who, in a moment shocking to the court, “swam the moat” and entered trailing tangles of weeds.
Prince Dauntless the Drab (Michael Kuhn). Image by Amanda Tipton Photography
As the Jester and Minstrel, Alex Mansoori and Bernard Holcomb were well matched stage buddies, either bantering or singing together. Jason Zacher made good use of his short appearances as a wizard who does parlor tricks at random moments. The on-again, off-again couple of Sir Harry and Lady Larken, who have a growing reason for the ban on marriage to be lifted. The couple were well portrayed by Schyler Vargas, who had fun with Sir Harry’s sense of importance, and Véronique Filloux, fittingly flighty as Lady Larken. Together they captured all the traditional nuances of the couple who are happiest while quarreling.
Special mention must be made of Andrew Small, who delighted in his CCO debut as the mute King Sextimus, who has an unfulfilled taste for the ladies in waiting at the court. The son of a musician who played in the CCO orchestra in the 1980s, Small first attended the opera when he was 10, leading to a career on stage. He wrote for the program that performing at CCO is “a deeply meaningful, full-circle moment.”
Seated at the very back of the house I could not always hear the voices over the orchestra. Out from under the balcony and closer to the stage, the sound was probably better. In all other respects conductor Kelly Kuo led a stylish and energetic performance.
The scenic design by Andrew Boyce fits the classic Broadway ambience perfectly, walls and arches suggesting a cartoonish court. The costumes by Elivia Bovenzi Blitz are standard theater-medieval—colors and fabrics no one saw in the middle ages, but pleasantly evocative of make-believe realms.
The stage direction by Alison Fritz, the artistic director of CCO, kept the show moving seamlessly. John Heginbotham’s choreography was handled smoothly by all of the acting/singing/dancing members of the large cast.
Those who love Broadway will relish the opportunity to attend a professional production of Once Upon a Mattress, performed with full orchestra and Broadway-worthy voices. If that’s your dish, go for it! If not, the farcical Barber of Seville and deeply thoughtful The Knock are equally worth a trip into the mountains.
NOTE: Performances of all three shows at Central City continue through the month and into August. The full schedule is listed below.
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Central City Opera Remainder of the 2025 Summer Festival Season All performances in the Central City Opera House, Central City, Colo.
Rossini: The Barber of Seville
7:30 p.m. Saturday, July 19 2 p.m. Tuesday, July 15; Friday, July 25; Saturday, July 26; Wednesday, July 30; Sunday, Aug. 3
Aleksandra Verbalov: The Knock
7:30 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 2 2 p.m. Sunday, July 19; Tuesday, July 22
Mary Rodgers and Marshall Barer: Once Upon a Mattress
7:30 p.m. Saturday, July 26 2 p.m. Wednesday, July 16; Friday, July 18; Sunday, July 20; Wednesday, July 23; Sunday, July 27; Tuesday, July 29 Friday, Aug. 1; Saturday, Aug. 2
Tickets for all remaining performances are available on the CCO Web Page.
Eric Whitacre’s Murmur features violinist Anne Akiko Myers
By Peter Alexander July 13 at 9 a.m.
Peter Oundjian often speaks in superlatives.
CMF Music Director Peter Oundjian
The music director of the Colorado Music Festival (CMF) says that the next two weeks of the festival (July 15–July 25) includes one of the composer’s “greatest pieces,” an overture that is “absolutely exquisite,” maybe “the most beautiful melody ever written,” and “an exquisite symphony” that is “as close to perfection as you can imagine!”
You might think he loved the music he will conduct.
Such enthusiasm tends to be contagious, and usually extends to both musicians and audiences. To find out for yourself, go to the festival’s Web page for tickets. (The full program of concerts for those dates is listed below.)
Violinist Anne Akiko Myers. Photo by David Zentz.
The next Festival Orchestra concert on Thursday and Friday evenings (7:30 p.m. July 17 and 6:30 p.m. July 18) features a work co-commissioned by the CMF from composer Eric Whitacre, who is best known for his choral music. Oundjian explained that he met with Whitacre in Los Angeles, “and we had a wonderful chat. I asked him what he was up to, and he already had this plan to write something for (violinist) Anne Akiko Meyers. At that point we said, ‘Let’s do it at the festival!’
Composer Eric Whitacre
“It’s a short, very tender piece, only for strings. It ended up being a memorial to everyone who lost so much in the fires (in Los Angeles the past January). So it’s a very touching piece.”
The program opens with Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring, one of the most loved pieces of American concert music. “That’s still one of (Copland’s) great pieces,” Oundjian says. “It epitomizes what we think of as the great middle-20th-century American music.”
After intermission, the program features two works inspired by Shakespeare, and two very different pairs of lovers. First is Berlioz’s Overture to the opera Béatrice et Bénédict, based on the taunting, bickering “merry war” between the two characters in the comedy Much Ado about Nothing. That will be followed by Tchaikovsky’s Fantasy Overture inspired by the tragic teenaged lovers of Romeo and Juliet.
“The second half is one of my favorite little moments (of the summer), because it’s two completely contrasting couples,” Oundjian says. “The Berlioz is absolutely exquisite. And you might think you’ve heard (Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet) too many times, and then you hear it again, and Oh My God! Is it the most beautiful melody every written?”
Cellist Hayoung Choi
On the following Sunday, guest conductor Maurice Cohn will lead the orchestra with South Korean/German cellist Hayoung Choi playing Tchaikovsky’s Variations on a Rococo Theme. One of Tchaikovsky’s most popular orchestral works, the Variations were inspired by the style of Mozart. Also on the program is Gli uccelli (The Birds), a suite for small orchestra that, like the Tchaikovsky, was inspired by music of an earlier age—in this case pieces evoking the sounds of birds from the 17th and 18th centuries.
Another guest conductor, Ryan Bancroft of the BBC National Orchestra of Wales and the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic, will lead the CMF orchestra at the end of the following week (7:30 p.m. Thursday, July 24, and 6:30 p.m. Friday, July 25). South Korean pianist Yeol Eum Son will play Beethoven’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor on a program that also includes the Fairy Tale Poem by Russian composer Sofia Gubaidulina, a musical fantasy based on a children’s story.
Ryan Bancroft. Photo by Benjamin Ealovega
Gubaidulina’s score portrays the tale of a piece of chalk that dreams of drawing castles and gardens, in spite of being confined to writing words and numbers in a school classroom. At the end, the dream comes true when a boy carries the last little piece of chalk home in his pants pocket.
The program concludes with a more deeply serious Russian work, Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 10. Like many of the composer’s works, the symphony contains esoteric musical symbols, including a musical anagram on letters of the composer’s name, and another musical anagram spelling ELMIRA, which the composer himself noted is similar to a theme from Mahler’s bleak Lied von der Erde (Song of the earth).
Oundjian returns to conduct the Festival Orchestra on Sunday, July 27. Chinese classical guitarist Xuefei Yang will play Joaquin Rodrigo’s Concerto de Aranjuez. Oundjian and the orchestra will play the Dances of Galánta, based on folk dances by the Hungarian composer Zoltán Kodály, and Schubert’s early Symphony No. 5.
“Schubert 5 is an exquisite symphony,” Oundjian says. “Nobody plays Schubert symphonies except maybe the ‘Unfinished,’ but Schubert 5—ah! It’s as close to perfection as you can imagine. If you think about how often pianists play the piano sonatas, or string quartets play the quartets, or the Trout Quintet, the symphonies kind of get ignored.”
Guitarist Xuefei Yang
Not ignored is the Concerto de Aranjuez, arguably the most popular concerto for classical guitar. “I love Concerto de Aranjuez” is Oundjian’s judgment. “We haven’t done it in years, so it’s time. And an amazing guitarist, Xuefei Yang. Oh my god what a musician!”
Between the Festival Orchestra concerts there will be Tuesday chamber music concerts by the Brentano String Quartet with music by Schubert and Brahms (7:30 p.m. July 15), and CMF musicians with music by Mozart and Dvořák (7:30p.m. July 22). The full programs and ticket information are listed below.
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Colorado Music Festival, Peter Oundjian, music director Tuesday, July 15–Sunday, July 25 All performances in Chautauqua Auditorium
Chamber Music Concert Brentano String Quartet
Schubert: Quartet in A minor, D804 (“Rosamunde”)
Anton Webern: Five Movements for String Quartet, op. 5
Brahms: String Quartet No. 3 in B-flat major, op. 67
7:30 p.m. Tuesday, July 15
Festival Orchestra Concert Peter Oundjian, conductor With Anne Akiko Meyers, violin
Copland: Appalachian Spring
Eric Whitacre: Murmur (CMF co-commission)
Ravel: Tzigane
Berlioz: Overture to Béatrice et Bénédict
Tchaikovsky: Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture
7:30 p.m. Thursday, July 17 6:30 p.m. Friday, July 18
Festival Orchestra Concert Maurice Cohn, conductor With Hayoung Choi, cello
Respighi: Gli uccelli (The birds)
Tchaikovsky: Variations on a Rococo Theme, op. 33
Beethoven: Symphony No. 1 in C major, op. 21
6:30 p.m. Sunday, July 20
Chamber Music Concert Colorado Music Festival musicians
Nico Muhly: Doublespeak (2012)
Mozart: Quintet for piano and winds in E-flat major, K452
Dvořák: String Quintet No. 3 in E-flat major, op. 97
7:30 p.m. Tuesday, July 22
Festival Orchestra Concert Ryan Bancroft, conductor With Yeol Eum Son, piano
Sofia Gubaidulina: Fairytale Poem (Märchenpoem, 1971)
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 3 in C minor, op. 37
Shostakovich: Symphony No. 10
7:30 p.m. Thursday, July 24 6:30 P.M. Friday, July 25
Festival Orchestra Concert Peter Oundjian, conductor With Xuefei Yang, guitar
Zoltán Kodály: Dances of Galánta
Joaquin Rodrigo: Concerto de Aranjuez
Schubert: Symphony No. 5 in B-flat major, D485
6:30 p.m. Sunday, July 27
Tickets to all concerts available through the CMF Web page.
Well shaped performance of “the greatest First Symphony”
By Peter Alexander July 11 at 12:24 a.m.
The world premiere of an engaging concerto for saxophone by American composer Joan Tower topped the bill at the Colorado Music Festival last night (July 10).
The Festival Orchestra was conducted by CMF music director Peter Oundjian, with Steven Banks as saxophone soloist. Tower was present for the premiere performance of her new score, and spoke briefly before the performance.
Titled Love Returns, the score is derived from a piece for solo piano titled Love Letter that Tower wrote in memory of her late husband after his death in 2022. Poignant, well constructed and emotionally coherent, Love Returns should become part of the concert repertoire for saxophone.
The first of the work’s six movements starts tenderly, with beautiful string sounds providing a warm embrace for the soloist. Over the next three movements, the music grows in intensity, reaching an uneasy high point built from nervous swirls in the saxophone. The Fifth movement is a solo cadenza, developing jumpy fragments of scales.
A virtuosic series of edgy passages leads into the final movement, where the nervous swirls loosen and return to the calm of the work’s opening. This creates a perceptible expressive arc, while the gentle ending suggests a moment of acceptance before the music settles into silence.
With a sweet tone and flawless technique, Banks gave an exemplary performance. The fluidity of his rapid passagework was remarkable, and he moved smoothly through all the shifts of mood and style. He has the ability to fade to silence in even the highest register. If recorded, his performance would create the standard for this valuable new work.
The concert opened with Aaron Copland’s Outdoor Overture, a strongly profiled work written for students at the High School of Music and Art in New York. To recognize the work’s origin, Oundjiuan turned over the podium to the CMF’s young assistant conductor Stefano Boccaci, who lead a bracing performance.
Copland’s alternating sections of vigor and delicacy were well marked. As appropriate for a school piece, all sections of the orchestra have opportunities to step forward. The bright trumpet solos of principal Jeffrey Work were acknowledged at the end, but every section earned recognition.
The concert ended with Brahms Symphony No. 1, which Oundjian likes to call “the greatest first symphony ever written.” Before the performance, he also noted that Brahms took 21 years to complete the symphony, during which time he progressed from a callow young musician to an experienced composer of international rank.
Oundjian and the Festival Orchestra gave a well shaped, controlled performance. The tense introduction to the first movement promised the drama to come. Throughout the engrossing first movement, the music surged from the tiniest pianissimos to full Brahmsian fortes. Oundjian convincingly varied the tempo to match the expressive needs of the score.
The slow second movement was carefully played but never came alive. The third movement projected relaxed good cheer, especially in the strolling music played by the woodwinds. Drama came to the fore again in the finale, which Oundjian built carefully to the climax. I heard bravos and cries of “Oh My God” at the end, signaling how well the symphony reached the audience.
The program will be repeated at 6:30 tonight (July 11) at the Chautauqua Auditorium. Tickets are available through the CMF Web Page.
Sharps & Flatirons 