Vaunted Verdi
Usually this column writes itself and the problem is selection. Maybe after the birth-pangs of opening the season last month, the performing arts are in postpartum depression, because, with the blazing exception of Kentucky Opera and Il Trovatore, none of the majors seems to offer much in October that I would want to attend, let alone recommend.
Or maybe it’s fairer to declare an interest: I am nuts about Verdi’s Il Trovatore, and even a casual study of the great composer’s most prodigally melodic work reveals this to be a huge advantage. Whenever people wish to make mock of opera, they imagine either vast German ladies in helmets bellowing from mountain tops, representing a danger to low-flying aircraft, or Italian tenors, who, on learning that someone is about to set their mother on fire, pause to sing a rousing aria with a gratuitously interpolated high C. (Actually, most tenors do no such thing; all opera music libraries have an alternative set of orchestral parts that allow the orchestra to accompany the aria “one step down.” This means the tenor only has to belt out a B flat instead of the perilous high C.)
Kentucky Opera has not done Il Trovatore this century, which is far too long for a work that, with Rigoletto and La Traviata, is one of a trio of melodic masterpieces on which Verdi’s reputation as a supreme theatrical craftsman rests. And Trovatore has the best tunes of the three. The libretto is, well, nuts. It has as many mistaken identities, dopey plot twists and macabre mishaps (of which throwing your own instead of someone else’s baby on a pyre is the most infamous) as the most bizarre soap opera. This farrago of nonsense somehow inspired Verdi to write soaring arias, great ensembles and a half-dozen brilliant choruses, of which the “Anvil Chorus” is the most deservedly famous.
So be there on Oct. 12 and 14 (a Friday night and a Sunday matinee) for thrilling singing and playing. Someone, maybe Caruso, said that all you need to do Trovatore is the three best singers in the world: a reference to the vocal demands of the lead soprano, tenor and baritone roles. Not far behind are the wonderful roles of Azucena, a true thumping contralto who has one great aria in Stride la vampa and who serves as linchpin of the plot’s complexities, and Fernando, the stentorian bass-baritone who opens the opera.
I was delighted by the masterful way that Joseph Mechavich made the case for Bizet’s rather limp Pearlfishers last season, so it is good he is returning to conduct Verdi’s more red-blooded masterpiece. To declare another interest, I am being paid to do some of the pre-talks for Kentucky Opera performances this year and tie them in with the Italian Cultural Institute. (Whether that mars the sea-green incorruptibility for which this column is renowned, I leave to your good judgment.) The number to call for Trovatore tickets is 584-7777.
Star Chamber
This is advance notice of an important concert in early November from the Chamber Music Society of Louisville, a gallant band of true music-lovers who battle to keep alive perhaps the most elusive and non-populist of musical art forms. Chamber music has in recent decades become the passion of a minority of an already shrinking minority. To spur interest in their craft, the local society became a partner in an international competition sponsored by the Kalichstein/Laredo/Robinson trio to discover, reward and foster emerging young talent. First winner of the prize is a group with the happy name of Trio con brio Copenhagen and they will give the opening concert of the Louisville season in the acoustically excellent (for this sort of recital) Comstock Hall at 3 p.m. on Sunday, Nov. 4. No need to call for tickets; just turn up at the door. The bright program includes a Haydn trio and one by Ravel.
Final Thought
The grumpy comments at the top of this column about this month’s arts offerings point out why generations of arts marketers have relied upon the rigidity of the traditional subscription system: Subscribers take the wheat with the chaff. But the marketplace in the arts is changing. Witness the explosion of “flex packages” and “choose your own series” options in what used to be a very fixed-series subscription world. That’s a direct response to people not wanting to commit to 10 evenings of Masterworks or eight Fridays at Actors. Yet without subscriptions we shall see more popular fare and less experimentation. Time was that producers could offer one unusual opera if the season had three “pops” to carry it; or one ballet in five could be experimental if the other four were big story performances. A decline in subscriptions, then, may also signal a tr/files/storyimages/away from the varied and challenging repertoire on which
