Saturday, December 02, 2017

Doing Papageno, Prospero, Pelléas and Pagliacci proud

I've spent part of this week on tenterhooks, chasing one of the best-loved of all British baritones for an urgent interview deadline. He's appearing as Tonio in I Pagliacci at the Royal Opera House, opening tonight - and something had happened to his arm. But finally 9am Thursday arrived and there on the line was...


Simon Keenlyside
Photo from classical-music.com

...and we had the most fascinating chat. Most of the interview will appear in the magazine of the Musikverein in Vienna, auf Deutsch, but some of it is for right here, right now.


JD: Simon, thank you so much for making time to talk. I heard you've had an arm operation. What happened?


Simon Keenlyside: I fell through a trap door 12 years ago and shattered both arms, though I didn’t know it at the time. The ligaments that hold the bones on had gone. It’s only been the muscles holding it on and one by one they got tired and snapped off - left arm triceps, left arm biceps and I’m sure this is the last one. It usually takes a year to get it back, and in that time I’ve overcompensated with the right arm and it just snaps. 


But you know, in the light of lovely Dima Hvorostovsky passing away, I keep things in perspective. It’s very annoying, I can’t sleep and the pain is big, but it’s just an arm injury, it’s just mechanics. 


Something about people, not just singers: as Dima got older, he got nicer and nicer. He was such a nice man, such a kind man, never mind his wonderful talent. And he had two young children...


JD: Now that the operation's done, how are you enjoying Pagliacci?


SK: Oh, I love it! That aria’s my favourite in the whole baritone repertoire. I think it’s wonderful and beautiful - and actually I love this opera deeply. I used to feel quite offended that wonderful maestri like Muti and Abbado used to consider it "cheap" music. I don’t agree at all, I think it’s a great, great piece. The baritone aria, if you peruse the words, couldn’t be more of a credo for any of us. I just love it. And right now, when my arm is so painful, it upsets me quite a lot because it’s so in keeping with what I’m singing about. Life reflecting art reflecting life reflecting art, chicken and egg in a nutshell. 








JD: You're extraordinarily versatile - you seem to have done everything from Papageno to Pagliacci to Prospero - and that must mean being versatile about productions too. [The ROH's 1950s-realism Cav and Pag production by Damiano Michieletto won an Olivier Award, but hasn't been universally adored - the revival, starting tonight, gives us a chance for another look...] Do you have a preference for modern productions or traditional ones?

SK: Well, I think it would be a mistake to set Pelléas et Mélisande in the baroque period - and I don’t like Figaro set after 1930 - because by and large you lose the whole discussion about rights, responsibility and class. The points that are made are about general humanity, but are made through issues of class, and that is lost. If there’s no distinction in class between the Count and Figaro or Don Giovanni, Don Ottavio and Leporello, or what they consider the ordinary people, the servants, Susanna and Figaro, then you can’t make the point. I think that makes it very difficult. It just becomes a toe-tapping evening with nice tunes. 


On the other hand, I’m thrilled to bits when we dispense with the need for Masonic symbolism in The Magic Flute. It’s a distraction. The closed world of the Masons can just as easily be represented, to my mind, by the closed world of, say, banking, or anything that shows a world or society that one man, Papageno, doesn’t want and his friend, Tamino, does want. It represents something - if you get hung up on what a set of compasses represents I think you’ve missed the point. 


Sometimes getting into a diffeernt time period can make it more difficult, but one thing I’ve learned over the years is that if you dislike something so much that it makes you miserable, then resign and go home! And if you are going to stay, then please don’t stay and moan the whole time. Help, as far as possible, the director to realise what he/she wants to do. The piece, guess what, will live to fight another day and you’ll get to do your thing another time. And occasionally a little nugget of interest will present itself to you and you can add it to your toy-box of your life’s experience in that role. It’s really interesting. Sometimes it comes from the most unexpected of quarters.


JD: Could you give us an example, please?


SK: Truths for performing artists often reveal themselves viscerally rather than intellectually. For instance, in Flutewe know "in vino veritas" and we know that when the young man [Papageno] is told by the Priest that he’s failed, he’s failed in everything, and he rounds on the Priest and says "But I don’t want anything, I never asked you for anything, all I wanted was a glass of wine and maybe a nice girl. That’s all I wanted!’ and the Priest says ‘That’s really all you ever wanted?’ - in frustration the young man says, "Well, yes, actually." Then he gets his wine, he drinks it and says "wow, wonderful, beautiful, fantastic..." And he says "I wish…I want…what is it that I want?" 


And if you get the timing right as the singer, you will see in the audience a lot of shiny bums on seats shuffling uncomfortably. You will see elbows being nudged into, usually, old men’s sides; you can see the winks and nudges and looks to one another; and as if that wasn’t already rather lovely, you then get ten notes from a man who could have written any melody under the sun, ten notes that are as close to the Marseillaise as we know it now as any notes could be. And if you look at the original scores, which I have, there aren’t even the embellishments. The Marseillaise itself would not have been embellished with its syncopation as it is now, and it was written only shortly before Flute anyway as the European anthem for freedom. 


So I think what Mozart is saying, and I’m certain in this belief in my little truth, he’s saying ‘What is it you want?’. Given Mozart and da Ponte’s whole operatic discourse on freedoms and liberties in Figaro, Giovanni and Così, I think Flute you’d put in the same boat. What is it you want? And there comes the melody from the least threatening instrument imaginable, the glockenspiel, saying again and again: freedom, freedom, freedom, freedom. But not the freedoms of the da Ponte operas. The freedom to be that which you want to be, but at nobody else’s expense. That’s a long-winded answer to your question - but that’s the truth I believe was revealed to me through hundreds of outings. 


The Royal Opera House's Cavalleria Rusticana and I Pagliacci opens tonight. Booking here. 



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Monday, November 27, 2017

Flummoxed Monday, plus a recipe

It's been a strange week. Our concerts at Burgh House and the Barnes Music Society went wonderfully. Since then I've listened to 52 different recordings of Beethoven's 'Hammerklavier' Sonata (results will be in BBC Music Magazine in January). I've mulled over the tragedy of Hvorostovsky - the news brought back difficult memories since I lost three close family members to cancer too young. I refused to get caught up in the "let's get Mariss Jansons" mob because life is too short. Yesterday I went to hear Imogen Cooper play Beethoven, Haydn, Chopin and Adès at the Chopin Society's series and marvelled particularly at her pure and exhilarating account of Op.110. That was both curative and unforgettable.

So here's a seasonal recipe, which I hope will be curative and possibly unforgettable too. I cooked it for some very dear musical friends the other day after listening to the 'Hammerklavier' ten times, which is why it's called "Beethovenian" - but the golden baked squash, the dusky mushrooms and their strong, concentrated flavours might merit the notion too.


BEETHOVENIAN BAKED BUTTERNUT

1 good-sized butternut or coquina squash
200g pack of cooked, peeled chestnuts (or roast them yourself if you prefer)
1 30g tub dried wild mushrooms
3 tblsp olive oil (or other if preferred)
Several sprigs of fresh thyme
Seasoning

Pre-heat over to 200 degrees. Soak the dried mushrooms in boiling water for about 20 mins, then drain, but keep the tasty mushroomy water to use in a sauce or something. Peel the squash (easiest to do this if you cut it into quarters first), scoop out and discard the seeds. Chop into cubes around 1-2cm. Pour the oil into a baking dish, put in the squash pieces and roll them around until coated. Sprinkle on the thyme. Cover with foil and bake for about half an hour - take the dish out every ten mins or so and turn the pieces over. Chop the chestnuts into halves or quarters as you prefer. When the squash is just about done, add the mushrooms and chestnuts to the baking dish, stir them into the hot thymey oil and season with salt and pepper. Bake for another ten minutes or thereabouts.

This is seriously yummy. We had it as a side-dish to garlicky chicken with a gravy made of the mushroom water, a squeeze of tomato puree, a dash of red wine and a little vegetable stock, boiled up and reduced to concentrate the flavour. But it could be a nice veggie main course in its own right: try adding a herb/pine nut/breadcrumb topping, or a good sprinkling of grated cheese or both.

Bon appetit.


Wednesday, November 22, 2017

Farewell, Hvorostovsky

Dmitri Hvorostovsky
Photo: Pavel Antonov
Tragic news on St Cecilia's Day: the Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky has died at the age of 55 after a long battle with a brain tumour. His office has issued a statement saying that the singer "died peacefully", "surrounded by family", adding: "May the warmth of his voice and his spirit always be with us."

Goodnight to this glorious artist. Cancer is a scourge that robs us prematurely of too many of our best and dearest beings. It has now taken another gem away.

Here is some film of Hvorostovsky's surprise appearance at a gala at the Met in New York in January, singing an extract from Rigoletto.



Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Going green: happy anniversary to Edition Peters!



The celebrated iron gate to Edition Peters' Leipzig headquarters

While we were in Leipzig the other week, we went to visit the historic headquarters of Edition Peters. After long hauls in various directions across the length of the 20th century, the company finally came back to the city three years ago and was reinstated in the building designed for it by Gottfried Semper, under the restored ownership of the heirs of the Hinrichsen family. There's a flat in the same building that was designated for Grieg's use. Linda Hawken, the company's managing director, showed us around and talked us through some of the history. And as that history encompasses Grieg, Mahler, Schoenberg, the horrors of the Third Reich, the regime of the DDR and the fall of the Berlin Wall, it really needs a book to itself (in fact, it has some - do read this and this, both by Irene Lawford-Hinrichsen).

This week marks the 150th anniversary of the iconic green cover we all know and love - if it ain't broke, don't fix it - so here is my interview with Linda. Happy birthday, dear Peters!

An autumn day in Leipzig...

JD: Linda, tell us about this anniversary?

LH: The 150th anniversary is of the launch of the iconic green cover design for which everyone knows EP. It’s not only a great design, but it also revolutionised music publishing, because for the first time music was produced on a rotary press, so music was a fifth of the price of any other publisher. This is the big message about Peters: we were responsible for making music affordable for all. So it was a major revolution in the industry. That was in 1867. 


Before that the company had passed through many different hands. It was founded in 1800 as a music shop, then they started publishing. CF Peters only had the company for 13 years, but the next owner, Böhme, stipulated in his will that the company should always have the name C F Peters in perpetuity. So that’s why we always kept hold of the name. In 1863 Max Abraham came into the firm. He wasn’t by training a musician but he could see the wonderful potential of the firm – he was a business visionary. 


JD: Leipzig became an incredibly important centre for all manner of reasons...?


LH: Yes, one of the company's advantages was Leipzig itself: the musical connections historically are truly extraordinary. For many years the company was actually based in Mendelssohn’s house – his family lived upstairs and the company was on the ground floor. It’s a really lovely connection for us. The Bach connection has always been incredibly important, too: the first serious Bach editions were produced by Peters. 


This was a hugely important trading city and the concept of the trade fair was invented here. A lot of the money came from the fur trade, coming from the east. And musically, you can never underestimate the power of the Gewandhaus. It’s an extraordinary history: when you go to a concert now, you’re surrounded by people who regard it as their orchestra. It’s wonderful. The Hochschüle was incredibly important too, founded by Mendelssohn; there was also Schumann nearby, with the Schumann Haus where he wrote some of his greatest works. But most importantly, it was where the publishers were, because of the printing. This was a mecca for books and their production in Germany.


JD: So, Max Abraham...


LH: In 1863 Max Abraham came to the business, saw the potential and came up with the concept of the first practical, affordable editions, with consistency of design and quality, working with the very best editors & scholars of the day. Probably the most important factor for his incredible success is that the printers were here, pushing at the boundaries of technology: Röder invented the rotary press, which was the first time they’d mass-produced music. They launched in 1867 and it was the most outrageous success. They produced a range of music that no other publisher had produced and the rate of success was so good he commissioned Semper to build this incredible building, Talstrasse 10, which is just a total joy to work in. 

The important thing about the rotary press is that Max didn’t keep it to himself. He encouraged Breitkopf to come and use it too, because they needed to produce music people can play. So other publishers came and used it: it wasn’t only for Peters, it was opened out to the market.

By the 100th anniversary in 1900, Max Abraham was ill and he handed over to his nephew, Henri Hinrichsen, who was also trained as a lawyer... But the story of how we came to be back in the building is extraordinary – I’ll come back to that!

JD: The relationship with Grieg seems to have been something quite exceptional?

The salon in Grieg's apartment
LH: Grieg first came to Leipzig as a young student of 17. From the very beginning Max spotted his genius and there began the most extraordinarily close, unique relationship between publisher and composer. There are over 300 letters documenting it. He had his own apartment in this building: he would come here and compose, he would go on holiday with the Hinrichsens, he went to Bayreuth with them and Abraham paid for the plot of land for Grieg's house at Troldhaugen to be built. The company made so much money from Grieg that Max just kept paying Grieg much much more than he was ever supposed to! It was the Piano Concerto that was the extraordinary success - but also the piano pieces, the Holberg Suite, and more. After Max died in 1900 Henri continued the close relationship, and after Grieg died Henri continued to look after his widow, Nina - apparently she was terrible with money, so they kept making sure she was fine and had an allowance. It’s the closest relationship I know of historically between publisher and composer.

JD: Then there was Schoenberg, plus the saga of Mahler's Symphony No.5?

LH: Past 1900, the international success of the green series is extraordinary. Henri went over to the international world fairs – Chicago, Philadelphia, Paris – and started to make a commitment to contemporary music, the beginnings of serialism. He committed to Schoenberg’s 5 Orchestral Pieces, which was a big risk - but one we benefitted from greatly. And Mahler Five...! If you read the correspondence about the production and the corrections, it’s quite extraordinary, and after the first performance Mahler wanted it all done again! Henri really went with it: he was a passionate believer. He was hemorrhaging money on this work, but he kept going because that’s what publishers tend to do: you commit to something and you keep going.

After that, the relationship with Richard Strauss is interesting - it's documented in Irene's book - and you get the first seeds of the antisemitism which is to lead to Henri’s death... 

JD: It was a horrific tragedy...

Henri Hinrichsen
Photo: Edition Peters website

LH: By 1933 and the first antisemitic laws introduced by the Nazis, Peters was a hugely successful company. So it was one of the first companies they went after to "aryanise". The story is very tragic. Max Hinrichsen, Henri’s eldest son, married a non-Jew. Some of the first legislation was against mixed marriages, so very early on Max and his wife and daughter had to flee. Henri just couldn’t believe what was going on. He found it difficult to forgiuve Max for leaving, because Henri had always said he was German first. he was the chairman of the Music Publishers Association and he was certain he’d be safe. But Max, a younger generation, went to London and founded Peters Edition London, and Walter, the next son, left for New York and founded CF Peters Corporation there. So these three bases in the world which miraculously we still have today, are the result of a terrible history. 

Henri stayed in Germany; but the company was taken over by Dr Johannes Petschull, who was a co-director of Schott. Henri was not allowed in the building knowingly but Petschull still used his knowhow and expertise – he was an expert in German copyright law – and he was fighting all the time to retain some of the assets. 

Henri and Max, as much as they made money, gave it all away. There was the famous Peters Music Library, an ioncredible archive of letters and facsimiles and scores - it’s in the building just over there... Max and Henri wanted people to come and see the originals. Henri also made incredible philanthropic donations, all his life, to the city of Leipzig. Just along the street is the Henriette Goldschmidt Schule, the first upper school for women in Europe, and that was founded by Henri. He was then barred from going into the school he had founded. 

Things deteriorated. Max and Walter were pleading with Henri and his wife Martha to leave - and by the time he decided to do so, it was too late to get to America and allegedly Petschull wouldn’t give them the letters of legality that could allow them to leave. They finally reached Brussels - but Martha, who had diabetes, couldn’t get insulin and she died. Henri after that was on his own in a boarding house. There the Gestapo came for someone else who was out - and they took him. He died in Auschwitz on 17 September 1942 in a gas chamber. The close friend of Grieg. 

JD: After the war, there came the DDR...

LH: Walter Hinrichsen was trying to rebuild music in Berlin. He came here and had some discussions with Petschull, who had obviously been a Nazi card-carrier. After the war Walter and Max did a sort of deal with him and allowed him to start a company in West Germany, in Frankfurt. Meanwhile here in Leipzig, this firm became the East German state publishing house. But for decades after that there were difficulties between Frankfurt, London and NY - because Petschull was Petschull. 

JD: The same Petschull?

LH: Yes, he died aged 100 in 2001...

Meanwhile the Wall had come down. Petschull closed this company, which left terrible feeling here in Leipzig, because we had really great musicologists here who had done excellent work during the intervening time. 

This building was falling down. Then a doctor from Wiesbaden committed to restoring it; he owns it. The London company by that time had passed into the hands of the Hinrichsen Foundation, a charitable foundation. In New York the heirs were the children of Walter, Martha and Henri, and a long project came about to bring the ownership of Peters back to the heirs: in 2010 it was achieved and Edition Peters group was formed, finally in the ownership of the Hinrichsen heirs. 

JD: And today you have a vast roster of contemporary music - including the opera Silver Birch that Roxanna Panufnik and I wrote! What have some of the highlights been?

LH: One of them involved Walter signing John Cage – that was a huge risk. (JD: I imagine it must have paid off...) LH: Yes, it’s extraordinary, over 400 works! And George Crumb, Ligeti, Kagel... So contemporary music went on from Schoenberg and became a huge part of the strategy. Rights have to be at the heart of any publishing house.

JD: Who's your most recent signing? 

LH: Du Wei, who’s based in Beijing – a hugely talented Chinese woman composer. I met her two years ago and was blown away by her music. 


JD: Last but not least, the return to beautiful Leipzig...

LH: In 2014 we closed the Frankfurt company and came back to Leipzig, to the joy of the city council, into this beautifully restored building. So in Germany it’s been very well received that we came back - but nobody really knows the complexity behind that. 

Now we’re here, we’re back in this amazing building and operating as a very successful international group. I think Henri would be OK with that.