Opera Chic

Daniela Dessì & Fabio Armiliato @ Auditorium: Concerto Straordinario

Now that the mighty have fallen -- Netrebko & Schrott [née Villazón] are sooo not viable for soooo many reasons, while the Alagnas have quietly backpedaled into Backpedalville, the other opera couples don't really get us hard (Borodina & Abdrazakov), while all the old valentines are long gone (Callas & di Stefano, Freni & Pavarotti, Corelli & Nilsson) -- we're looking for another pair to take the crown & sceptre. This past Wednesday night at Milan's Auditorium, opera powah couple Fabio Fabulous Armiliato and Daniela Delicious Dessì brought a fresh aria to an eager audience.

The two swooped into town, between performances, to gift the sadly struggling laVerdi orchestra a concerto straordinario. The Orchestra Sinfonica di Milano Giuseppe Verdi holds a special place in our <3s, as it is comprised of the kids that still hold the reverberations of Maestro Giulini's loving retirement lessons, and we're always keen to support them. As the orchestra began with Verdi's overture from I Vespri Siciliani, the night was off to a nice start.

Time for the first aria, and Armiliato came out on the stage singing from Verdi's Otello, "Dio mi potevi scagliar", looking slick in a black suit and a black button-up shirt, with super shiny patent leather shoes. His acting was pensive and concentrated. Armiliato made a fine Otello, (and one that most fans were eager to sample) with a forceful demeanor, luscious voice, and memorable drama. 

Second aria was from Verdi's Il Trovatore, “Tacea la notte placida” sung by Daniela. She came on stage wearing a gorgeous gown, a classic Vera Wang wedding style in pale pink. The bustier was tight, with an adorable corseted back, and a thick pink silk ribbon wound through. The full skirt was gathered with layers and layers of heavy fabric. Only inches from her b3wbs rested a gorgeous diamond necklace, tiered with pendants, and matching bling on her wrist. Her voice bloomed and flourished from the warm wood of the gorgeous auditorium. Then the orchestra played again, with Verdi's La forza del destino sinfonia. Then the two came out together to sing from Verdi's Otello, “Già nella notte densa”.

Last October 2007 was the last time we saw the two sing together, when we had traveled to Vienna for the dynamic duo in Puccini's Manon Lescaut at the Wiener Staatsoper, which was only disappointing via Robert Carsen's faulty vision. Of course, there are perks to singing with your significant other -- the comfort, the chemistry, the trust, and synchronicity -- and these two know the drill. As the orchestra warmed the opening measures, Daniela caressed Fabio's face tenderly, which he reciprocated by taking her hand and kissing it. Playful Daniela picked at Fabio's jacket, tugging at a black cloth handkerchief that needed straightening. They sang locked in an embrace, holding hands, and fitted against each other like cutlery. At the end of the aria, they lovingly exchanged a quick, supportive kiss on the lips, Fabio planted one on her forehead, and they bathed in their deserved applause. They sang tenderly, with technique at full throttle.

We broke for 20 minutes so the singers could rest a bit, and then the fresh faces of la Verdi played their version of the Intermezzo from Puccini's Manon Lescaut to start the second half.

Then out came Armiliato ready to tear into his next aria, which hit with the force of a lightning bolt. He launched into the Improvviso from Giordano's Andrea Chénier and stunned the audience with his skills, which exited to the most thunderous applause and bravi. His voice filled the auditorium with ease, washing the hall without breaking a sweat.

Next was Daniela's turn, who had drastically changed her former pink froth into a smart black number. She showed-off a slimmer silhouette than what we've seen in recent years, firmer arms and slender waist (must have been working out but the out-of-control b3wbs are still there in all their impressive glory, good for her). Her dress was a straight long skirt to the floor, made from rows and rows of thin lace, while a black satin bow demarcated the bodice from the skirt. The top formed a deep v-neck with meaty straps, showcasing the same diamond necklace from the first half. She looked stunning, and showed off her secksy black stilettos while walking astride to (the not-always-flawless) conductor Marco Boemi.

She set it off with Verdi's La forza del destino "Pace mio Dio" and gave us a lesson in perfection, her voice growing more beautiful with every passage. She was a storm of bottled emotion with dramatic sweeps of her hands. After lots of cheers the orchestra enjoyed themselves with Ponchielli's Gioconda, Danza delle ore, with such energy that at one point, Boemi was pop-locking on the podium. Best moment of the night.

Then the couple came out for their last listed duet, which was Giordano's Andrea Chénier “Vicino a te s'acqueta". Again, the chemistry and tenderness between the two singers was impossible to deflect, and so genuine. As they finished their last aria, their voices already filling the auditorium for the past two hours, the audience exploded.

In the end, they gave three bis. The first they gave together in duet, the Brindisi from Verdi's La Traviata...a playful, sweet round with the orchestra filling in for the missing chorus. Corny, kinda cheesy, yeah, but hay...

Then came out Fabio for his solo bis, which he chose as Nessun Dorma from Puccini's Turandot. Great, but it proved to be the fertile breeding ground for the only abberation of the evening, as Armiliato broke the last note of the aria's last "Vincerò" and dropped it like it was hawt. No matter, as the audience bolstered his over-extension and eagerly applauded before the end of the piece, like devoted sports fans at an injured player taken off field.

Daniela ended the evening on a glorious note and Callasized "Poveri fiori" from Cilèa's Adriana Lecouvreur. Her pronunciation was superb ("soave e forte bacio di morte") showing us her many years of following the old skool by not eating your words when you sing.

After the performance, as it was already 11pm, Fabio and Daniela went into overtime by signing autographs in the downstairs lobby of Auditorium for their adoring fans and selling their duet disc. OC, although certainly an adoring fan, had to rush out at the last note of Poveri Fiori, and was unable to meet teh superstars. But it's all good. OC had a Dirty Dancing dream that night. Armiliato was Johnny Castle, Daniela was Penny Johnson, and OC was Baby (of course)...and we all danced the drrrrty mambo and ate watermelon. I HAD TEH TIME OF MY LIFE! [warning: youtube link].

Fabio Armiliato & Daniela Dessì Tonight @ Auditorium di Milano

Powah couple, Fabio Armiliato & Daniela Dessì [warning: sound file plays upon loading], will be appearing live tonight at Auditorium di Milano @ 8:30 pm, singing Italian duets and arias. We'll hear selections from Verdi's Otello, Il Trovatore, and La Forza del destino, with more arias from Manon Lescaut, Andrea Chénier, and la Gioconda. Stay tuned for a full report this evening.

 

Magnificent Beethoven IX Obsession

(A scene from Galleria Vittorio Emanuele. This year there was a Swarovski sponsorship.)

Capodanno (New Years) found Opera Chic splitting appearances between Milan and Cernobbio to enjoy/appease the best of both the city and the country, and drinking myself through an impressive reserve of early 1990s Moët & Chandon Dom Pérignon Cuve'e Vintage and 1970s Mumm Vintage. I'm not str8 edge by any means ("I'm so hardcore, I don't need anything fun to have fun") so the vintage bubbly was quite nice (Opera Chic follows Jay Z and Diddy's boycott of Cristal.)

(An ad on via Brera for the Beethoven Slatkin Concerto di Capodanno)

As per a blossoming tradition, the early hours of New Years evening were spent at Auditorium di Milano at Largo Gustav Mahler for the annual Concerto di Capodanno. Teatro alla Scala is dark for Capodanno, so we intrepid pirates must find music at alternate venues. This year at Auditorium, there was a performance of Nona sinfonia di Beethoven - Beethoven's Ninth - with the Orchestra Sinfonica e Coro Sinfonico di Milano Giuseppe Verdi, conducted by Leonard Slatkin.

Last year also found Opera Chic at Auditorium to enjoy Beethoven's Ninth, conducted by Herbert Blomstedt. I remember last year well, having just arrived in Milan a week prior, somewhat ignorant of the brilliance of Italian cashmere, and therefore unable to keep warm in the zero Celsius temperature. This year was much lovelier (nine degrees warmer) so I set-out to Auditorium wrapped in a black short-sleeve waffle-knit Paul Smith cashmere sweater, with a matching Paul Smith high-waist black silk skirt; a vintage, double-breasted dark brown leather trench from ShabbyChic, black Chanel vintage pumps, and my Gucci midollino.

(A picture of the ceiling of Auditorium. I was sitting so close to the orchestra that it was impossible to snag a shot of the stage discretely.)

Singing Schiller's An die Freude was soprano Oksana Dyka, mezzosoprano Irina Cistjakova, tenor Simon O'Neill, and bass Stanislav Shvets. All were relatively worthy, but tenor O'Neill chose to interpret the usual old-skool heldentenor color instead with a very modern tenore di grazia. Whatever. It was almost impossible to hear him anyway, as my seat was about four rows from the stage, directly inline with Oksana Dyka's deafening lyric. Also because of the proximity, I was unable to snap any good photos (too tacky!)

Slatkin made a bit of a mess with the Ninth Symphony. And when I say "a bit of a mess", I really mean, "a lot of a mess". Between the four movements, the concerto was a giant chaotic afterthought. I know that the orchestra is filled with kids my age, and I know that tackling Beethoven's Ninth symphony is a huge compromise and mastering between tempi, chorus, orchestra, as well as the conflicts within the sections of the orchestra; but Slatkin just didn't have any control. He sped through the entire performance at breakneck, careless speed which proved too fast for anyone but the strings to keep-up. His Allegro ma non troppo and Molto vivace clocked-in together at less than a half hour. The entire brass section was completely out-of-synch with the strings. They couldn't keep up. His Adagio molto e cantabile was even worse, with soloists flubbing fairly easy cadences. (The image to the left is of the interior archetecture of Auditorium.)

It was only during the last movement, Presto, that Slatkin finally showed a bit of proficiency with the orchestra, and his frantic tempi (sort-of) worked. The reason being is that the chorus ignored his direction completely, and sang at their own speed, forcing Slatkin to slow down the entire tempo to one that was more manageable. Slatkin was just going too fast, and they weren't having it. This created a huge conflict within the entire ensemble, and the last movement was very tense. Overall, there were times when the entire piece went under, completely lost; there were also many instances when the piece didn't even sound like Beethoven's Ninth.

(A shot from 2005 Concerto di Capodanno at Auditorium; Blomstedt's Beethoven's Ninth.)

Last year conductor Herbert Blomstedt directed the same exact group of kids in Beethoven's ninth at Auditorium, but it could have been a completely different orchestra considering Sunday night's performance. Last year, Blomstedt was adept; the orchestra held tight, the choir synchronized, with everyone giving a very solid performance. Blomstedt propagated a ten minute standing ovation, whereas this year, we treated Stlatkin to like five minutes of tepid clapping before the orchestra scurried off the stage. (okay, there was one bis, with just the "fourth movement" of the Presto reiterated, and the soloists awkwardly smiling). yay.

The 2005 performance was also more exciting in the respect that I had a run-in with someone quite spectacular. Last year as I entered the garage where I had parked the car on Corso San Gottardo, as I was waiting for the auto, a large black 2005 model Mercedes pulled up. I then witnessed the largest man I had ever seen getting into the car. He was dressed impeccably, with a black cashmere overcoat and a grey cashmere scarf. I was not yet familiar with Italian celebrity, but knew the world of soccer well. I realized it was Giacinto Facchetti, a former legend of Internazionale Calcio, as well as the (at the time) current president of the Internazionale soccer team. (btw, when Facchetti passed away just this last September 2006, I went directly to Basilica di Sant'Ambrogio the morning of his funeral to say goodbye. I arrived at 11:00 am, but already the line was wrapped around the entire church, rows and rows of people waiting to honor the legacy of the former Inter leader. With appointments impending, I had no choice but to leave, but it was touching to see so many people regardless.)

This year, no one of importance surfaced. Well, except me, of course! :)

And now I must mention in passing the extremely awesome Beethoven's Ninth that I was treated to, the very evening I arrived in Milan last year. On Friday, December 23, 2005, I heard the Orchestra e Coro del Teatro alla Scala play their annual Concerto di Natale, which was coincidentally Beethoven's Sinfonia n. 9 in re min. op. 125. It was conducted by Maestro Daniel Barenboim with Thomas Quasthoff singing baritone.

(Blurry shot of the 2005 Concerto di Natale at Teatro alla Scala. Barenboim's Beethoven's Ninth.)

It was most exciting because everyone in Milan knew that this was a precarious moment time in Maestro Barenboim's career, as he was the most favored candidate to fill some sort of leadership position of influence after the turbulent, former reign of Muti's artistic and musical direction. We had been hearing many rumors that La Scala was going to ask Barenboim to fill the position of a guest conductor or some other leadership role, so it was awesome to see Barenboim on his best behavior, smiling broadly and prancing across the stage, absolutely effervescent.

But Barenboim had nothing to worry about, as La Scala was completely enthralled by his appearance. As the concerto drew to a close, it was obvious that this was a monumental Beethoven’s Ninth, and the audience acknowledged it with about twenty-five minutes of applause. Barenboim was ecstatic, and braved his laudations well. The orchestra began that steady, rhythmic stomping of their feet on the floor to beacon their approval.

(Image of the Mehta Concerto di Capodanno with the Wiener Philharmoiniker. My friends don't have plasma!)

Then after Concerto di Capodanno, Opera Chic drove to Cernobbio, and promptly got wrecked. But not wrecked enough to wake up bright and early the next morning for the traditional viewing of the all-male review of the Wiener Philharmoniker playing the Neujahrskonzert 2007 aka New Year's Day Concert (well, the concerto started at 2:00 pm, but close enough). This year it was lead by his highness Zubin Mehta conducting a Johann Strauß and Josef Strauß heavy program. Here you are treated to the orchestra and a montage of arial views of Vienna in the springtime and ballet at Schloß Schönbrunn aka Schönbrunn Palace. And constant shots of Mehta's gigantic-shouldered wife applauded between every piece. It's super-lame, but you watch it in an ironic way. There's also the fascination that the Vienna Philharmonic is comprised of an amazingly all-white, all-male contingent (or is there already a female harpist?), as Alex Ross recently reported. Anyway, it's a huge deal in Europe, and tickets have a five-year waiting list.

(I took another picture of Giulini's baton and first violin behind the glass at Auditorium di Milano.)

So if there is anything to be gleaned from the auspicious New Year celebration, the upcoming year will be filled with bad concerti but good champagne. Not bad, but I hope I read the signs wrong.

Opera Chic's New Years Resolution? 1024x768.

i am teh highlander. there can only be one. Carlo Maria Giulini Still RulZ Milan

(If you are looking for the latest-breaking Teatro alla Scala news, go here  and here for the most recent thang: Robert Carsen's production of Lenny's Candide ousted from its future billing at Teatro alla Scala.)

My dear lovely readers, how I've missed you all! I shall nev4r abandon you again!

This Christmas holiday, Opera Chic found herself among gracious company in Cortina, Italy, high on the fresh and frigid Dolomite air, wrapped in the warmest of warm M. Bardelli cashmere, and practicing her (horribly rusty) German.

I hope that everyone's holiday wishes came true and you were all treated to a lovely end-of-the-year orgy of food and gifts. My Xmas gifts were pretty :coal: because I got a wii, an xbox 360 *and* a ps3. ha ha j/k.

One of my actual, IRL, for real gifts was the Fall CD release (from BBC Legends) of Giulini's London Philharmonic performances of Hindemith, Dvorak, and Beethoven. After just one listen, it was apparent that Giulini successfully washed each performance in that dark, creamy, emo sound that only he was capable of mastering. And while I enjoy Giulini's embrace of symphony, I am more about his opera, and his recordings get heavy rotation in the Opera Chic house. Favorites? Giulini's 1961 EMI Le Nozze di Figaro with Taddei, Moffo, Schwarzkopf, and Cappuccilli; his 1955 EMI Live La Traviata with Callas and Di Stefano; and his 1982 Deutsche Grammophon Live Falstaff with Bruson, Nucci, and Ricciarelli.

Giulini's presence remains palpable throughout Milan (especially nella zona where I live, which is coincidentally where Giulini himself lived for decades), and his reputation as an enormously talented and distinguished gentleman continues. After Giulini retired, he devoted his leisure time to instructing the young musicians of the Orchestra Sinfonica di Milano Giuseppe Verdi, which is comprised of the student orchestra that hails from Conservatorio di Milano. He doted on them sweetly with rehearsals and master classes. His care towards nurturing the students was lauded and recognized.

One of the stories from the witnesses who were with Giulini during his later years is that during his very last rehearsal with the laVerdi Orchestra (before he passed away in the summer of 2005), he took more than twenty minutes to individually tune each players' instrument within the orchestra. Aside from watching Barenboim with his West-Eastern Divan Orchestra (I was at the September 1, 2006 concerto at La Scala, where Barenboim individually congratulated each and every player for close to fifteen minutes during the final applause), there is no other conductor that doted so lovingly and with such great patience on their orchestra.

Giulini perpetuates an honorable legacy throughout the music scene in Milan, where he has been duly sanctified; and if you have the occasion to go to Auditorium di Milano, you can find in the lobby, both his first violin (it's so tiny!), along with one of his treasured batons that he donated (and then came back to the foundation via auction) to the Auditorium. Here's an image of his baton from the lobby, which I took almost one year ago, while I was in attendance of the Capodanno concerto at Auditorium on Largo Gustav Mahler for the Blomstedt Beethoven's Ninth.

Giulini wrote: Ho sempre avuto un legame affettivo e scaramantico con le mie bacchette. Ne ho possedute poche, ma le ho custodite con grande cura ed attenzione. Questa è una di esse.

Ne faccio dono all’Orchestra Sinfonica di Milano Giuseppe Verdi con l’augurio di continuare l’importante lavoro di divulgazione musicale in questa Città e nel mondo.

C M Giulini, Marzo 2004

Translation: I have always had a link of love/affection towards my batons, as well as attributing to them the power of lucky charms. I have only had a small amount [of batons], but I have kept them each with great care and attention. This is one of those.

I give it to the Orchestra Sinfonica di Milano Giuseppe Verdi with the wish that they continue the important work of spreading music in both this city and in the world.

C M Giulini, Marzo 2004

How kewl is that? Here is a picture of his violin, but the quality is pretty shady. But nevermind that...I will be returning to Auditorium this upcoming Capodanno concerto to hear Maestro Slatkin conduct Beethoven's Ninth, and will snap a better picture...

Anyway, before I left Milan for the holiday, I made a trek down to the Teatro alla Scala bookstore, and witnessed that lo spirito musicale of Giulini still thrives.

The La Scala bookstore contains two large albums, filled with 8x10 glossy press-shots of the musical geniuses that have graced the La Scala stage, that one can buy and frame. Between the portfolios, filled with popular artists, conductors, and ballet dancers, there remained only one photograph that had been sold out. That glossy was the capture of Maestro Carlo Maria Giulini. FINITA!

Another marvelous trinket this holiday season was a gift subscription to Classica satellite channel so during this long, grey, cold winter, I can watch awesome things on the plasma. Already, the channel is teh r0x0r.

But they've been looping Nikolaus Harnoncourt's conducting of Nozze di Figaro from earlier this year at the Salzburg Festival, and aside from Ildebrando D’Arcangelo and Anna Netrebko, it's an embarrassing disaster. Tommasini panned it in a NY Times review, as did every music critic in Italy when it ran. And I can bear witness that it really does suck.

Before I embarked on the journey to the heart of the Dolomites, I caught the ending of a HD Renée Fleming holiday special, and she's all decked-out in festive gear. She was singing among a nativity scene, but I was too lazy to check the credits. Here's a screenshot:

Okay, luckily during my holiday, Alagna didn't show up in Milan playing his tiny little violin that weeps canzonette about his low blood pressure and conspiracy theories. I returned to Milan full of frico, crespelle, and stinky truffles. And a new pair of puma kicks to herald a newly-invoked (and much needed) schedule of exercise.