Plus a peek at the New York Philharmonic’s Stravinsky festival
By Jay Nordlinger
A farewell recital is a hard gig—mainly for the emotions involved. It is especially hard for a singer, because a singer has to use his voice: that sometimes ungovernable conveyor of emotion. Different singers handle their retirements in different ways. Some make a big splash, announced months or years in advance. Beverly Sills had a balloon drop. Other singers simply fade away, without a word. Leontyne Price sang a recital at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, in 1998—and that was that.
Two seasons ago, Kiri Te Kanawa sang a farewell recital in Carnegie Hall. She kept things relatively light, even jokey, as though warding off melancholy. At one point, she brought out a friend to sing with her: Frederica von Stade, the beloved American mezzo-soprano. And, near the end of April, it was von Stade’s turn: She sang her own farewell recital in Carnegie Hall. “Flicka,” as she is known to friends and fans, will be 65 in June. To many of us, she will always be a babe in her prime.
Frederica von Stade recently sang her farewell recital at Carnegie Hall. Photo by Steve J. Sherman
She shaped her program to outline the events of her life. For example, she went to Paris as a young woman and fell in love with it. Talking with her audience, she quoted Kiri, complete with Kiwi accent: “You’d be silly not to.” In honor of the fizzy French capital, she sang Poulenc’s “Voyage à Paris,” among other songs. She also sang songs about her own life that, in the 1990s, she asked Jake Heggie to write. (Von Stade herself penned the lyrics.) To mark different stages in her operatic career, she sang particular arias. And so on.
Like Kiri, von Stade had a special guest—several, actually. One was her baritone friend Richard Stillwell, and another was her bass friend Samuel Ramey. Fairly early in the program, Lee Hoiby came out to accompany von Stade in his famous song “The Serpent.” He wrote it for Leontyne Price, in B flat; for Flicka, he transposed it down to A flat. An octogenarian, Hoiby was making his Carnegie Hall debut. This composer is no slouch of a pianist, having studied with Egon Petri, one of the great pianists and pedagogues of the 20th century.
Otherwise, von Stade’s accompanist was Martin Katz, as he had been for 36 years. That was a wise career choice for von Stade. Katz is so consistently excellent, plus ubiquitous on the voice-recital scene, it is possible to take him for granted. We shouldn’t. His playing, in Flicka’s farewell recital, was tasteful, adaptive, elegant—well-nigh perfect.
The singer herself was well-nigh perfect too. I will ask the same question I asked about Te Kanawa two seasons ago: Is she sure she has to retire? Over the years, I heard several von Stade recitals that were not as good as the farewell one. Her sound was its singular self: rich, sultry, sensual, opulent, dripping. Her technique was secure. She did hardly any flatting, which was a career-long problem—or call it an idiosyncrasy—for Flicka. Musically, she was virtually unerring. And is there anything quite like the von Stade charm? If you can resist it, you are a hard case indeed.
At encore time, one of von Stade’s daughters came out to sing a duet with her. Then maman sang an aria with which she is closely associated: “Voi che sapete” from Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro. As Katz introduced it, she comically crossed herself, as though worried about how it would go. It went very well.
Can she be gone now? Only two seconds ago, she was the “young” mezzo-soprano, following the great triumvirate of Marilyn Horne, Christa Ludwig and Janet Baker. She was the “new” one. And now there are other new ones. Flicka gave a great recital, and a great career, and her fans ached a little that night at Carnegie Hall. Maybe a lot.
A Salute to Prince Igor
Someone had a nifty idea—a Stravinsky festival at the New York Philharmonic, led by Valery Gergiev, the mercurial Russian maestro. Seven different programs were drawn up. Gergiev knows Stravinsky, but, of course, he knows many other composers as well—including ones who are not his countrymen.
Speaking of his countrymen, Gergiev, perhaps not trusting of local ensembles, imported his own chorus to perform with the Philharmonic, the Mariinsky Theatre Chorus. This bunch unquestionably knows what it’s doing.
A Friday afternoon program opened with Svadebka, called here in the West Les Noces, or The Wedding. This is a quirky “dance cantata” completed by Stravinsky in 1923. With his head buried in the score, and his left hand rarely ungripped from the music stand, Gergiev conducted rather mechanically. It should be said, however, that the score has a mechanical quality built in.
Valery Gergiev conducting the New York Philharmonic. Photo by Stephanie Berger
Next up was Symphony of Psalms, “composed to the glory of GOD,” Stravinsky wrote in the dedication. The work was commissioned by the Boston Symphony Orchestra for its 50th anniversary, in 1931. On this afternoon, the music grew spellbinding and transcendent—thanks to the performers and thanks, too, to the composer. It is a beautiful, inspired work.
After intermission came that beloved, bankable Firebird, composed way back in 1910, when Stravinsky was in his late 20s. From Gergiev and the Philharmonic, we heard the whole enchilada—the complete ballet—not just a suite. Gergiev should be made for this score: It is full of wizardry, and so is he. It is kaleidoscopic, electric and imaginative, and so is he. He did fine by it—though one could register complaints.
Some slow sections suffered from longueurs, and could have used more warmth, lyricism and enchantment. Some fierier sections could have used more crackle, pulsation and bang—Gergiev is not always the mad Russian, you know. And some of his rubato misfired. The music at times lost momentum. Still, this was indeed a fine, certainly a satisfactory, account.
Incidentally, you can hear The Firebird and think that Wagner ought to collect royalties. Some of it comes straight out of The Ring, particularly Siegfried. And yet it is all Stravinsky, a genius who died not so long ago, in 1971.
