Among the true musical giants of the Twentieth century, Ottorino Respighi is probably the most underrated: he's either grotesquely dismissed as an anti-modernist whose work is better left forgotten or wanly praised as the composer of a few famous, facile tunes -- I Pini di Roma, etc etc, whatevs.
Of course, he was instead a composer greatly admired by conductors such as Serge Koussevitsky, Tullio Serafin, Willem Mengelberg, Oswald Kabasta, Karajan (and, in recent years, Yuri Temirkanov, Riccardo Muti -- a great Respighi fan -- Antonio Pappano and the young Gianandrea Noseda).
A more respectful -- and careful -- analysis of his prodigious output -- Metamorphoseon, the astonishingly inventive variations commissioned by the Boston Symphony Orchestra and Serge Koussevitsky for the BSO's 50th anniversary in 1930, the intricately woven and deeply moving Impressioni Brasiliane, a work exalted by Oswald Kabasta's interpretation in a rare recording left by the great maestro, the Adagio con Variazioni so memorably given life by, among others, Yuri Temirkanov -- leads one to reevaluate Respighi. Not just as the greatest of the great Italian composer of the century -- more accessible than Donatoni, blessed with a genius of orchestration as great as Puccini, and less dogmatic than that other underrated, misunderstood giant Mascagni -- but as one of the giants of the twentieth century's classical music, period.
(And by the way, everything you ever wanted to know about Respighi, Italian musicologist Potito Pedarra knows; and shares with a generosity quite rare in the music business -- all for the love of Respighi scholarship).
Therefore, much praise to Deutsche Oper Berlin for their brave, beautiful decision to stage the other night -- for just the second time ever, the world premiere happened in Rome only 5 years ago -- a lost work of Ottorino Respighi's "Marie Victoire", written in 1913 and for an incredible series of circumastances never staged until 2004, in Rome, under Gianluigi Gelmetti's baton.
Now it's the turn of Michail Jurowski (Vlad's dad) to conduct Marie Victoire, a work -- Opera Chic can speak of Gelmetti's version, a recording dear to her heart -- that weaves around Edmond Guiraud's libretto (the action takes place during the French revolution) a whirlwind of invention -- beautiful ever-changing colors, a style that always remains personal and fresh despite the quite superficial similarities to Poulenc and Massenet.
It's also refreshing that the American soprano Takesha Meshé Kizart has been cast as the lead, as Marie de Lanjallay: Opera Chic is a longtime fan of Takesha's and can only say, she hopes this is the beginning of a major, major career -- she deserves it.
Dear OpéraBouffe from Rome (Italian language link) gives a well-deserved shoutout to the half-forgotten greatness of Ottorino Respighi, that giant of the twentieth century, by far the greatest Italian composer of "il Novecento": OpéraBouffe is raving about I Pini di Roma and Le Fontane di Roma in the awesome Pappano version (and we join her also in the cheering for the talented Signor Tony who, we hope, one fine day will be hired by la Scala as much-needed music director): Opera Chic obviously holds dear to her heart the Respighi illuminated by Riccardo Muti's and Philly's talent, and we also heard Muti conduct Respighi in NYC last winter (and how cool that maestro Chailly just exported Respighi to the US during his recent US/Canada tour with Filarmonica della Scala).
But Respighi's greatest work is without a doubt his Impressioni Brasiliane, "Brazilian Impressions", a deeply unsettling and astonishingly modern work worthy (as it is often the case with Respighi) of a Richard Strauss, a 1928 travelogue in three parts that includes a chilling section inspired by a visit to a snake-breeding farm (and the snakes make the deathly sound of the Dies Irae, you can read more about that here): the best version of IB -- a version that, we fear, won't be surpassed for a long time, if at all -- is the one conducted by another forgotten giant of the 20th century, Oswald Kabasta, and the CD is predictably out of print.
Let's hear it from maestro Lopez-Cobos:
Of course, the tradition in Italy was opera. Consequently, Italian opera overshadowed the work of other Italian composers of the 19th and 20th centuries who deserved much more attention. Because of the operatic tradition in Italy, Italian composers became much more talented in bringing out the colours in orchestral music. You always observe in their music an inclination to imitate the human voice. This is especially the case with Martucci and Respighi.
Martucci, of course, the author of the Notturno that is clearly one of the major works of the 20th century, is one of Toscanini's and Muti's (and, heh, Opera Chic's) musical fetishes. But we'll write about him some other time because right now we're about to crank Kabasta's Impressioni really loud on the sound system.
Opera Chic had quite a day today buzzing around Lincoln Center, while sampling all the delish treats of the Gelb Revolution. Btw, the Gelb Revolution will not be televised (and y'all know you're gonna watch it!) I'll get to the auxiliaries tomorrow, including the "Maestro's Secret Music" (Arturo Toscanini artworks collection in Avery Fisher Hall), and the dazzling "Maria Callas & Swarovski: Jewels on Stage" exhibition from the subterranean dungeon of the MET Opera house.
But first: Guess what?? I've got a fever! And the only prescription is...MORE MUTI!
Although it is cold as balls in New York City, that didn't stop Opera Chic from braving the razor-sharp winds to support Maestro Muti, who appeared earlier this evening with the New York Philharmonic at Lincoln Center's Avery Fisher Hall.
Since I hate traveling with my vintage pieces, and I prefer to pack my luggage lightly, I had to fall back partially on my cache of clothes and accessories that I had left behind with family when I moved to Italy. Therefore, I set out for my adventures today in a curious mélange, wearing nothing terribly exciting save a high collar, black cashmere lady coat from Armani, and a Loro Piana gray cashmere winter cape.
Tonight’s program at Avery Fisher Hall at first seemed disjointed, curated from composers Giuseppe Martucci, Giuseppe Verdi, and Ottorino Respighi. Aside from the fact that they are all Italians, they actually are all linked tenuously through Martucci, which was explained in the program notes from the evening.
The concert opened with Martucci's "Piano Concerto No. 2 in B-flat", with the brilliant Gerhard Oppitz flawlessly playing the cadenzas. The grand piano was situated stage center, flanked by the orchestra, which stood between Muti and the audience. A Muti sandwich, if you will. But the positioning was teh suck for me (as I was in orchestra front) because Muti was blocked behind the giant hull of the piano lid. But the awesomeness of that proximity paid-off, and I was able to hear Muti sigh and wheeze, and fret about the music, stomping his feet across the podium during the crescendi. Pretty f**king sweet!
The first movement of the Martucci piano concerto, Allegro giusto, was lol giusto lol. No. It was actually a very symphonic, big sound. The second, Larghetto, was astonishingly lyrical. The finale was adequately bright. Gerhard Oppitz played blithely, and had no problem keeping up with Muti's tempi. Fun fact: The New York Philharmonic's previous performance of this work was only twice: February 21 & 24 in 1911. Go Muti Go…with your obscure and esoteric snobbery!
Muti was suited in delicate eyeglasses, frac, and that lovely shade of dark grey that he is currently rawking on top. Muti unfortunately seemed distant and a bit aloof. This was a different Muti that I had seen in Ravenna just last month conducting Don Pasquale. He was detached and somber, a little lethargic. And the overall sound was a bit on the muddied spectrum. Of course, he still conducted flawlessly (as always).
Then intervallo: *reads program* *checks mobile phone* *txts Italian friends: OMG MUTI IS ALL UP IN THIS PIECE*
During the intermission, the piano was wheeled away. Yay! Muti's podium was pulled shallow, leaving il maestro in plain view. The first work after intervallo was Verdi's "Ballet Music" from Macbeth. As the story goes, Verdi had written the opera in 1864 without any sort of ballet. However, the French publisher Léon Escudier, in anticipation of the April 21, 1865 la prima at the Théâtre-Lyrique in Paris, asked the Italian composer to add a ballet. The playbill goes on to say, "In 1865 the composer revised the opera to include a ballet — de rigueur for anyone who had aspirations of producing an opera in Paris. The members of the infamous Jockey Club who attended the ballet called the shots: they wanted to see their favorite dancers on stage—and backstage after the performance as well." Well, Verdi obliged, and we now find the ballet early in Act III. Fun fact: The New York Philharmonic only played this once before—on April 3, 1957 with Mitropoulos conducting.
Now onto the final work: Respighi's Feste romane, a quirky highlight of the evening. A colorful story evolves through the music, which is easily followed via the personification of the instruments. There’s the drunk guy, the witch, the lions, etc. This work is just so much fun, and a complete orgy of brass. It's a dirty, ugly, brash sound, which begins in the visceral first movement, Circus Maximus. Brass-heavy composition, this work is more like a trumpet concerto (three trumpet players were stationed up in the second tier balcony, which were supposed to be an ancient Roman brass/horn instrument called buccine.) Through the next three movements (The Jubilee, Oktoberfest, and Epiphany), there was a dizzying array of instruments, including sleigh bells, a glockenspiel, two pianos, and a mandolin. It was insane. Muti was very deft at weaving it all into a coherent pallet. He took away the sappiness and sentimentality of the composition, and gave it dignity and grace. He suffused it with depth. Muti rawks my socks. Fun fact: The world premiere was with the New York Philharmonic on February 21, 1929 in NYC, conducted by Toscanini.
The reception after the finale was lukewarm. Is it the Carlo Fontana fall-out? The Muti backlash? A standing ovation…but really what doesn’t get a standing ovation these days? The New York audience can suck it. WTF NYC? This is pandemic! First Darfur, now Muti. I fear what is next!
Well, whatevs. I dosed on Muti cowbell, suckas!
