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Feb. 18th, 2004 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darcydodoSo, I wrote my first (and probably last) review article for the Daily Cal. This was the payment for getting to see Cecilia Bartoli, so despite the absolute HELL that is writing an article, it was obviously worth it.
Because![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
girlwithjournal had to cut the review lots to make it fit the space she had available, here is the full-length version. The short version can be found in any of the papers on campus tomorrow, or on the Daily Cal website (but it's not up, yet).
When I mentioned to my mother, who knows a little about singing and a lot about beer, that I would be reviewing mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli's Cal Performances recital, she asked if one might describe a singer's voice as chewy, or hoppy, or perhaps as having a good nose. Although none of these could possibly be appropriate to Bartoli's performance, the Italian singer's voice was unquestionably intoxicating.
I was thrilled to attend the concert, as I have been awed and inspired by Bartoli's rich and expressive voice since the late 1990s. She is one of today's premier artists in the operatic world, having made her West Coast debut to critical acclaim over a decade ago at Berkeley's own Zellerbach Hall, when she was still relatively unknown in the United States. Two of her most recent recordings received Grammy awards, as did two of her earlier albums.
She sang on Sunday to a packed house, tickets having sold out months in advance, and for more than two hours after the performance ended, a line of audience members trailed around the mezzanine and down the stairs to the lobby, waiting to get the diva's autograph.
The program consisted of 18 songs in Italian, French and Spanish divided into six segments. On six or seven distinct occasions, Bartoli brought her audience to laughter as well as applause; she clearly enjoyed what she was singing and was willing and able to share her enjoyment with the audience. Her rendition of Rossini's "L'Orpheline du Tyrol" turned runs of notes into yodels and echoes, which was eminently suitable to the aria and a brilliant interpretation of the setting, yet is something that was missing on her 1991 recording of the song. Equally, the fifth segment of the concert summoned a whole menagerie of insects to the stage simply through Bartoli's vocal technique: she gave the ladybug of Bizet's "La coccinelle" its own thin, reedy voice, and the butterfly of the same composer's "Tarantelle" clearly flapped its wings in the flutters of the notes. This was unquestionably the most lively set of the concert, and Bartoli's accompanist, Sergio Ciomei, even handed her a pair of castanets before the last aria, which she slipped over her hands and proceeded to use with great skill. She was clearly amused by the castanets, continuing to click them playfully during the applause that followed the piece.
Although such exuberance is apparently not unusual for Bartoli's performances, those audience members who had seen her in concert previously were still impressed and awed by the technical and emotional aspects of her recital. Some of them mentioned being brought to tears by the encore, "Lascia ch'io pianga" (from Handel's opera "Rinaldo," which Bartoli also recently recorded with the Academy of Ancient Music); the woman sitting behind me called it the best rendition of the aria that she had ever heard.
Bartoli's rapport with Ciomei was also exceptional, as demonstrated when she casually leaned on the piano during Donizetti's "Me voglio fa 'na casa" and melodramatically and spontaneously slowed down the "tralla la la"s of the second verse, Ciomei following her with practiced expertise. Bartoli's appreciation for Ciomei was again made evident when she plucked a red rose from a bouquet given to her by a stagehand and offered it to Ciomei, who is an excellent accompanist for her, his enthusiasm and love for the pieces clearly matching Bartoli's own.
The applause and ovations at the end of the concert were as appreciative of the performers as the performers were of their music, and they easily inspired one encore and then another, which in turn inspired further applause and ovations and even a shout of "We love you!" in Italian. This cycle resulted, finally, in four encore pieces, which Bartoli and Ciomei acquiesced to with good humor. Unlike the set pieces of the recital, which seemed to be arranged by composer and theme, the encores served a different purpose, and Bartoli's demeanor altered somewhat for their delivery. The first encore, "Son qual nave" from Broschi's "Artaserse," was a showy piece, displaying the amazing control that Bartoli maintains over her dynamic range and breath support. At its close, however, she made gestures to apologize for spitting on the front row of the audience, a friendly interaction (the apology, not the spitting) that was less noticeable during the main body of the concert. And twice during her well-deserved ovations, she winked at Ciomei and mouthed "One more," before swinging back, just as she reached the edge of the stage, in order to deliver another encore. Bartoli also alternated the encores between exciting, playful pieces (the Broschi aria and Rossini's art song "La Danza") and slower, more mellow songs ("Lascia ch'io pianga" and De Curtis' "Non ti scordar di me"), which may perhaps have been intended to try and soothe the savage beast that was the vicious applause of the audience.
Bartoli's concert was an unmitigated triumph, a fact that was emphasized by the willingness of her adoring audience to wait in Zellerbach Hall for two hours following the recital, amidst rumbling stomachs and mutters of sore feet, clutching programs and copies of her newest recording, with only the promise of an autograph and perhaps a photograph with the famous mezzo-soprano to sustain them. (Personally, I was hoping to get her to autograph my ticket stub, so that I could add it to my collection of signed ticket stubs from singers-whom-I-think-are-fucking-amazing-and-would-happily-kill-Ronald-Reagan-for, a collection which prior to Sunday contained a grand total of one.) Bartoli will undoubtedly receive a similar response the next time she returns to sing in the Bay Area, and we can only hope that there will not be another desolate three-year stretch before this day arrives.
ETA: Actual published Daily Cal version is here.
Because
girlwithjournal had to cut the review lots to make it fit the space she had available, here is the full-length version. The short version can be found in any of the papers on campus tomorrow, or on the Daily Cal website (but it's not up, yet).When I mentioned to my mother, who knows a little about singing and a lot about beer, that I would be reviewing mezzo-soprano Cecilia Bartoli's Cal Performances recital, she asked if one might describe a singer's voice as chewy, or hoppy, or perhaps as having a good nose. Although none of these could possibly be appropriate to Bartoli's performance, the Italian singer's voice was unquestionably intoxicating.
I was thrilled to attend the concert, as I have been awed and inspired by Bartoli's rich and expressive voice since the late 1990s. She is one of today's premier artists in the operatic world, having made her West Coast debut to critical acclaim over a decade ago at Berkeley's own Zellerbach Hall, when she was still relatively unknown in the United States. Two of her most recent recordings received Grammy awards, as did two of her earlier albums.
She sang on Sunday to a packed house, tickets having sold out months in advance, and for more than two hours after the performance ended, a line of audience members trailed around the mezzanine and down the stairs to the lobby, waiting to get the diva's autograph.
The program consisted of 18 songs in Italian, French and Spanish divided into six segments. On six or seven distinct occasions, Bartoli brought her audience to laughter as well as applause; she clearly enjoyed what she was singing and was willing and able to share her enjoyment with the audience. Her rendition of Rossini's "L'Orpheline du Tyrol" turned runs of notes into yodels and echoes, which was eminently suitable to the aria and a brilliant interpretation of the setting, yet is something that was missing on her 1991 recording of the song. Equally, the fifth segment of the concert summoned a whole menagerie of insects to the stage simply through Bartoli's vocal technique: she gave the ladybug of Bizet's "La coccinelle" its own thin, reedy voice, and the butterfly of the same composer's "Tarantelle" clearly flapped its wings in the flutters of the notes. This was unquestionably the most lively set of the concert, and Bartoli's accompanist, Sergio Ciomei, even handed her a pair of castanets before the last aria, which she slipped over her hands and proceeded to use with great skill. She was clearly amused by the castanets, continuing to click them playfully during the applause that followed the piece.
Although such exuberance is apparently not unusual for Bartoli's performances, those audience members who had seen her in concert previously were still impressed and awed by the technical and emotional aspects of her recital. Some of them mentioned being brought to tears by the encore, "Lascia ch'io pianga" (from Handel's opera "Rinaldo," which Bartoli also recently recorded with the Academy of Ancient Music); the woman sitting behind me called it the best rendition of the aria that she had ever heard.
Bartoli's rapport with Ciomei was also exceptional, as demonstrated when she casually leaned on the piano during Donizetti's "Me voglio fa 'na casa" and melodramatically and spontaneously slowed down the "tralla la la"s of the second verse, Ciomei following her with practiced expertise. Bartoli's appreciation for Ciomei was again made evident when she plucked a red rose from a bouquet given to her by a stagehand and offered it to Ciomei, who is an excellent accompanist for her, his enthusiasm and love for the pieces clearly matching Bartoli's own.
The applause and ovations at the end of the concert were as appreciative of the performers as the performers were of their music, and they easily inspired one encore and then another, which in turn inspired further applause and ovations and even a shout of "We love you!" in Italian. This cycle resulted, finally, in four encore pieces, which Bartoli and Ciomei acquiesced to with good humor. Unlike the set pieces of the recital, which seemed to be arranged by composer and theme, the encores served a different purpose, and Bartoli's demeanor altered somewhat for their delivery. The first encore, "Son qual nave" from Broschi's "Artaserse," was a showy piece, displaying the amazing control that Bartoli maintains over her dynamic range and breath support. At its close, however, she made gestures to apologize for spitting on the front row of the audience, a friendly interaction (the apology, not the spitting) that was less noticeable during the main body of the concert. And twice during her well-deserved ovations, she winked at Ciomei and mouthed "One more," before swinging back, just as she reached the edge of the stage, in order to deliver another encore. Bartoli also alternated the encores between exciting, playful pieces (the Broschi aria and Rossini's art song "La Danza") and slower, more mellow songs ("Lascia ch'io pianga" and De Curtis' "Non ti scordar di me"), which may perhaps have been intended to try and soothe the savage beast that was the vicious applause of the audience.
Bartoli's concert was an unmitigated triumph, a fact that was emphasized by the willingness of her adoring audience to wait in Zellerbach Hall for two hours following the recital, amidst rumbling stomachs and mutters of sore feet, clutching programs and copies of her newest recording, with only the promise of an autograph and perhaps a photograph with the famous mezzo-soprano to sustain them. (Personally, I was hoping to get her to autograph my ticket stub, so that I could add it to my collection of signed ticket stubs from singers-whom-I-think-are-fucking-amazing-and-would-happily-kill-Ronald-Reagan-for, a collection which prior to Sunday contained a grand total of one.) Bartoli will undoubtedly receive a similar response the next time she returns to sing in the Bay Area, and we can only hope that there will not be another desolate three-year stretch before this day arrives.
ETA: Actual published Daily Cal version is here.
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no subject
Date: 2004-02-19 07:45 am (UTC)although perhaps i shouldn't be the one telling you that. the first movie review i ever wrote had people writing back to tell me to quit grad school to write reviews for a living. but--you know? expressing my opinion in amusing fashion is one of my great talents. anybody who hangs out with me and whom i've not already offended knows that.
try a movie review sometime. it's a different experience.
and i say that, because your review is quite good and i don't think you should stop writing them. unless you get an assignment i want. then it's war. *grin*
Re:
Date: 2004-02-19 07:50 am (UTC)You'll like the title we came up with. Grab a copy of the Daily Cal tomorrow. ;)
Re:
Date: 2004-02-19 07:56 am (UTC)*puzzled*
Re:
Date: 2004-02-19 11:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-19 01:51 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-19 08:36 am (UTC)