Today marks the birthday anniversaries of two able musicians who made their biggest reputations, for better or worse, in fields other than music.
When Henry VIII (1491-1547) wasn’t occupied in upgrading spouses or downgrading churches, he happened to be a skilled composer and performer. More about Henry and his music here:
Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-1778) is best remembered as one of the great philosophers of the Enlightenment and a driving influence behind the French Revolution. But he was also a successful composer who wrote seven operas. The best-known of these is probably “Le devin de village.”
Undoubtedly fewer heads would have rolled had these gentlemen stuck to their music!
I always thought “Dracula” would make a terrific opera. Lo and behold! Finally! John Corigliano composes one. But Mark Adamo’s libretto conflates the vampire story with… Euripides’ “The Bacchae?” Countertenor Anthony Roth Costanzo (Princeton ’04) assumes the role of Dionysus. Not quite the “Dracula” opera I envisioned, maybe, but bring it!
Corigliano’s previous opera, “The Ghosts of Versailles,” was commissioned by the Metropolitan Opera in 1980 to celebrate the organization’s centenary. The premiere had been scheduled for 1983, but it wound up taking seven years to complete. The work was finally staged for the first time in 1991. An extravagant phantasmagoria on Beaumarchais’ “Figaro” cycle, it was described by the composer as a “grand opera buffa.” Despite a light revision of the piece, in which some of the costlier elements were removed, a scheduled Met revival in 2008 was cancelled, because of nerves over the global financial crisis.
Adamo, Corigliano’s husband since 2008, is also the composer of several operas. “Little Women,” from 1998, has been the most frequently performed. The work has been presented in more than 35 productions and received over 65 international engagements. Adamo served as composer-in-residence with New York City Opera from 2001 to 2006.
Both operas, “The Ghosts of Versailles” and “Little Women” have been broadcast on PBS (“Ghosts” from the Met, and “Little Women” from Houston Grand Opera).
Corigliano’s film scores include those for “Altered States,” “Revolution,” and “The Red Violin.”
“The Lord of Cries” will receive its world premiere at Santa Fe Opera on July 17, with a run of five performances through August 17.
Don’t go into it expecting Bela Lugosi or Christopher Lee. Too bad nobody ever thought to write a Dracula opera for Lee. He certainly had the pipes. He was singing in a pub in Stockholm one night, when he was overheard by none other than Jussi Björling, who would offer to take him on as a pupil. It was one of the actor’s great regrets that he wasn’t in a position to accept.
Follow the link for more information about Corigliano and Adamo’s “The Lord of Cries” (the music in the video is actually from “The Red Violin”):
Christopher Lee demonstrates his raw talent as a singer, with selections from “The Flying Dutchman,” and “The Damnation of Faust,” with the added bonus of a recitation of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Raven”:
Much later, Lee shares an anecdote and proves that he’s still got it:
Lee recounts his experience with Björling and his family’s role in bringing opera to Australia:
“The Lord of Cries” is not the first Dracula opera. Philadelphia composer Robert Moran wrote “The Dracula Diary” in 1994, and Belarusian-born Swedish composer Victoria Borisova-Ollas composed “Dracula,” ostensibly the first opera to actually adhere to the events of Stoker’s book (according to the Royal Swedish Opera), in 2017.
The best-known vampire opera remains Heinrich Marschner’s “Der Vampyr,” sucking hard since 1828.
Samuel Ramey recently announced he’ll be returning to the operatic stage in 2022. Time will tell whether or not he’ll start wearing a shirt.
At the link, there he is as Verdi’s “Attila.” Only Ramey could make me love this opera. Listen to that audience, at around 3:20 and again at 7:04. The adoration is such that he finally launches into an encore.
For me, of course, his signature role will always be Boito’s Mefistofele.
Act I, Son lo spirito che nega (I am the spirt that denies)
It took a German composer to kick off the Italian opera craze in England.
George Frideric Handel, fresh off an Italian sojourn, exploded onto the London music scene with “Rinaldo” in 1711. In fact, despite some stiff competition from rival companies, Handel would dominate Italian opera there for several decades.
One of his chief competitors was the Italian composer, cellist, and singer Giovanni Bononcini. In fact, it was their rivalry, and the rabid partisan allegiance of their respective followers, that spawned the epigram “Tweelde-dum and Tweedle-dee.” The phrase was coined nearly 150 years before Lewis Carroll’s usage, by John Byrom in 1725.
Some say, compar’d to Bononcini
That Mynheer Handel’s but a Ninny
Others aver, that he to Handel
Is scarcely fit to hold a Candle
Strange all this Difference should be
‘Twixt Tweedle-dum and Tweedle-dee!
It was on this date 300 years ago that Handel and Bononcini were pitted against one another in a back-to-back musical contest, when directors of the Royal Academy of Music arranged for the two composers to set adjacent acts of the same opera. The music for the first act of “Muzio Scevola” would be written by house composer Filippo Amadei, for the second by Bononcini, and for the third by Handel.
You might think that Handel, in clean-up position, had the natural advantage, but Bononcini had already written two complete operas based on the libretto himself, in 1695 and 1710. Furthermore, he had been composing operas for the Academy for just as long as Handel had been its music director. There were plenty who preferred Bononcini’s lighter touch and straightforward melodies. Underlying all, there was also an interesting political component, as Handel was favored by the Whig party, and Bononcini by the Tories.
Neither composer’s victory was a foregone conclusion. But on the night of the opera’s premiere, March 23, 1721, the audience overwhelmingly favored Handel.
In the end, Bononcini left London in disgrace in 1732, when it was discovered that he had passed off a madrigal by Antonio Lotti as his own work – unusual blowback in an era when composers frequently stole from one another with impunity.
Adding insult to injury, Handel took the libretto for Bononcini’s “Xerse” and set it to music himself, as “Serse” or “Xerxes.” Granted, it was received as one of Handel’s rare failures (Londoners were taken off guard by its comedic elements). Nevertheless, it yielded one of his best-known melodies, the aria “Ombra mai fu,” widely circulated in countless instrumental arrangements as “Handel’s Largo.”
“Ombra mai fu”
Handel’s Largo
“Lascia ch’io pianga” from Handel’s “Rinaldo”
“Muzio Scevola”
Baroque opera… ‘tis a silly place (if occasionally sublime).
Dueling portraits of Bononcini and Handel. Is it any wonder that Handel was favored by the “Whigs?”
To say that I didn’t enjoy my undergraduate years at Temple University would be an understatement, but I do appreciate the fact that, at the much longed-for commencement ceremony, I got to march to Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Procession of the Nobles.” In fact, the only thing that would have made me happier is if the orchestra had launched into something from “The Sea Hawk.”
“Procession of the Nobles” is all that most people know of Rimsky’s opera “Mlada,” an exploration of ancient Slavic paganism that somehow manages to assimilate Cleopatra. The work benefits from the composer’s visit to Paris, during the World Exhibition of 1889, and the eclectic musical influences he absorbed there. “Mlada” encompasses treachery, murder, a supernatural love triangle, a midsummer festival, a witches’ sabbath, Cleopatra, and, in the last act, revenge, widescale destruction, and an apotheosis in which bride and groom are reunited in the Great Beyond. The opera was not a success.
Rimsky embarked on the work in 1889, after an earlier, collaborative effort, undertaken with his colleagues of the Mighty Handful in 1872, was not completed. Interestingly, Act III of this earlier project included one of several versions of Mussorgsky’s “A Night on Bald Mountain,” then titled “Glorification of Chernobog.” It was at this point that Mussorgsky added vocal soloists and chorus. It was later adapted again for use in his opera, “Sorochinsky Fair.”
Be that as it may, Rimsky’s suite for his solo outing contains some characteristically transporting music.
Rimsky also arranged Act III into a purely orchestral work, “Night on Mt. Triglav.” That’s the act with the witches’ sabbath and the vision of Cleopatra.
In all, the composer wrote 15 operas. Performances in the West are rare, though I’ve managed to collect most of them on record.
Temple University can go to the devil, as far as I’m concerned, but I will always consider myself lucky to have actually processed with the nobles.
