Formato: mp4
Subtítulos: Italiano, Inglés, Francés, Alemán
This "fête Baroque" occurred in December 2011 at the Théâtre des Champs
Elysées in Paris, marking the tenth anniversary of the ensemble Le Concert d'Astrée under founder and conductor Emmanuelle Haïm. The concert was a benefit for a French cancer research facility, and it attracted a galaxy of guest stars. Le Concert d'Astrée is one of the very best Baroque vocal ensembles, and this release never descends to a low common denominator. Haïm's
trademark expressive phrasing is everywhere in evidence, but the
biggest attraction is the selection of singers, with several figures
from the mainstream showing up alongside established Baroque
specialists. You might not think that tenor Rolando Villazón has quite the right voice for an aria from Handel's
Tamerlano, HWV 18, but he's clearly wrestling with the problem, and he
gets an appreciative roar from the Parisian crowd (who are given full
voice on the recording). Right after that comes a delicious duet from
mainstreamer Anne Sofie von Otter and countertenor Philippe Jaroussky in the Cornelia-Sesto duet from the second act of Handel's Giulio Cesare in Egitto, HWV 17, a pure feast of sensuous singing. Established Baroque vocalists like Natalie Dessay and Sara Mingardo
are on hand, as well as a few up-and-comers who seized the chance to
put their names and voices in front of a well-heeled crowd. Rather than
try to cover the entire range of Baroque opera, Haïm wisely chooses to focus on three composers: Rameau, Lully, and Handel,
whose vocal riches occupy the entire second CD. The sound picks up
unadulterated audience noise, but nothing interferes with the
spontaneity the musicians bring to the event. (James Manheim)
If you are going to substitute the singing voice for an instrument
what do you get? The warm and lyrical voice of the cello of course!
The compact disc as a physical
object, whether the music is classical or pop, is of interest to very
few people nowadays. One response from musicians has been an adjustment
to the new climate of downloadable single tracks and bite-sized clips
that don’t suffer from being part of a shuffle. Patricia Petibon’s new
disc does exactly the opposite. Her program happens to contain nearly
thirty tracks, but they all go together as a single performance, and
they need to be heard in the order in which she presents them. The
program is at its core a song recital, but Petibon and pianist Susan Manoff have invited some off-the-cuff participation from a second
pianist, a second vocalist, an accordion player and a percussionist. The
structure is something of an after-dinner talent show, with relentless
high spirits to start, a passing moment halfway through when everybody
gets a little soupy and sentimental as the Pernod kicks in, a strategic
regrouping for a few big numbers, and one sad song too many at the end
to send everybody to the pile of coats on the bed. At times, there’s a
deliberately amateurish quality. The second vocalist is Olivier Py, who
is not quite a singer (he is quite a director, having mounted a
production of Berg’s Lulu for Petibon), and the percussion
parts give the illusion of improvisations that non-musicians might toss
in from the sidelines.
Spain, and its music and art, have long had a special appeal for
Patricia Petibon: “From an early age I was intrigued and fascinated by
Spanish culture, by the way the excessive and the subtle are
inextricably linked. It glorifies emotions with pride and, at the same
time, refinement. It’s a culture that comes from the earth, from the
people. Everything about it appealed to me, and in my early recitals I
liked to insert some Spanish songs into my American and French
programmes. Then, when I went to Madrid to sing in Dialogues des Carmélites,
I met the stage director Emilio Sagi, and that led to my opportunity
to enter the world of zarzuela. It was Sagi who directed me in
Torroba’s Luisa Fernanda in Vienna, where it was wonderful to
be singing alongside Plácido Domingo. I found myself surrounded by
performers from all kinds of Spanish-speaking backgrounds; they noticed
how interested I was in their culture, and that’s how we made a
connection, and I learned from real specialists. Spanish artists have a
physical sense of the music: for them, it draws its strength from the
body, and there I can’t resist making a connection with Baroque music,
with dance, of course, and extreme characters – think of Médée or
Armide. It also shares the same kind of quality of roughness, of
rawness, and voices are used to express emotions, not just to make a
lovely sound.”