Archive for December, 2017

6 cousins

December 23, 2017

6 cousins

6 cousins, taken in about 1932/33.

My father is amongst them.

I was to stay with another, R,  in Perth this week.  Just before my arrival R was admitted to hospital and then transferred to a rehab ward

I had been having some trouble getting in touch with another – M. Phone calls and a couple of calls by M’s place were a dead end.

As R was speaking to me on the phone R suddenly called out “M!”  M is in the same ward, just diagonally opposite.

Both R and M are unmistakeable in this photo.

How great to see them both. 


Kanen Breen wears a dress – not again!

December 9, 2017

Last Thursday (well, maybe the Thursday before last by now)  to Angel Place for Pinchgut’s production of Monteverdi’s Coronation of Poppea.

I’d read the publicity/pre show journalism.  This was to be a “contemporary” production.  Call me cynical, but in my experience that mostly means a saving on costumes. “I got into baroque opera through updated productions when I was a teenager so I am really excited with this approach,” said artistic/musical director Erin Helyard.  The Australian Opera’s production of Handel’s Julius Caesar still casts a long shadow – not that they skimped on the costumes there.

At the start a transvestite prostitute cops a beating.- Not clear why – I suppose it was to set up the vicious dog-eat-dog world of Neronian Rome over which Virtu, Fortuna and Amor preside.

It was only later, when the transvestite, now a nurse (in the Romeo & Juliet sense of an older domestic and confidante of a young woman) started singing that I recognized her as Kanen Breen.  In a dressYet again. It’s always good to see him on stage (generally threatening to steal a scene) and his lullaby over Poppea later in the show was one of the best bits in the production.

“It was a stupid production.  Like a cartoon, really” said the female half of the elderly couple ahead of me on the way out afterwards – well not too elderly to be taking the fire escape from Level 3.  “But the music was good.”

There is something in that criticism.  Transplanting to something vaguely Gold Coast sparked things up in some ways but also ran a bit of a risk of trivialising them.  I loved it when Kanen Breen as one of his nurse roles got on the mobile to report the attempt on Poppea’s life.  I felt a bit more equivocal about David Greco’s Seneca as a kind of jokey phoney. That could have been making a virtue of necessity – David Greco is rather light-voiced for a world-historically famous philosopher stage and Top Stoic.  I think I startled my Act I neighbour, a violinist from the AOBO, by saying that when I first saw it done by AO Clifford Grant was Seneca – probably a mixup for Grant Dickson.   But the jokiness rather undercut the famous suicide in the bath scene – given a twist here (I can say this now the run is over) when Nero’s henchmen weren’t prepared to take any chances and suddenly forced Seneca’s head under.  It was a genuinely shocking moment.  “I need a drink after that,” I heard someone say as we streamed out.

One such theatrical coup is OK but the hand was overplayed when two other betrayed plotters – in the libretto permitted by Nero to go into exile – were abruptly chloroformed and borne away.

The scenery obscured it for me but judging by the mimed zipped up fly a cross-sex Poppea lookalike orally obliged Nero.  Gratuitous?  Well, actually it fitted right in with the words and music of Nero’s big aria at the beginning of the second half.

We had live video projection of the wedding at the end – very up-to-the-minute.  It’s all about fame, you see.  (Actually I thought this just a bit laboured and wondered if it was really worth the expense and clutter.)

The overall effect was enjoyable if a bit short on the sublime.  Musical exuberance stood up better in live performance than in the broadcast (available here for another 3 weeks or so) where some of it (not Kanen) sounded a bit vocally rough when I tuned into it the next  Sunday.

My thoughts, exactly

December 7, 2017

not youOr almost,

on watching Malcolm Turnbull at the end of a gruelling (for us) day of pointscoring and futile amendments – some of which Turnbull voted for and none of which he voted against – celebrating with his rictus grin the outcome of the final substantive vote for marriage equality as if it were a triumph for him.

Taken from a comment in The Guardian:

Any one of those amendments debated / filibustered over the last few days would have sent the Marriage Equality bill back to the Senate. It would almost certainly have delayed the passing of the Bill until at least February, giving opponents time to regather and continue the fight. This is what the Nationals and most “Liberals” wanted. That is what Malcolm supported.

Now Malcolm wants to join the party. Well (vomit emoticon) to you.

Memo to the “Liberals” (with a few honourable exceptions): You lost. There’s no place on the winning bandwagon for you. So don’t try to to crash the party. Don’t try to claim credit. No one except your media boosters are listening.

One such media booster is Mark Kenny in the SMH, who starts out:

Like it or not, history will show it was Malcolm Turnbull – a Liberal Prime Minister – who presided over a renovation of the nation’s outdated marriage law.

One might have expected such a modernisation to emanate from the left.

Look, Mark, it did emanate from the left. Sure, it was slow, but once the ALP got to a free vote in 2012, the obstacle was those in control of the coalition denying their own members one.

Kenny continues:

His [Turnbull’s] backflip to champion Tony Abbott’s much-loathed plebiscite and subsequent embrace of Peter Dutton’s benighted postal survey, had quickened his poll slide among middle Australians. But these same Australians would later participate in Dutton’s survey in droves.

That really made me mad.  If Turnbull really thinks that participation in the postal survey signifies approval for it as opposed to a pragmatic acceptance through gritted teeth of no real alternative, he’s going to be surprised at the size of the stick that quite a lot of voters will be waiting for him with at the next election.




December 5, 2017

Is it just me, or has this word recently sprung up everywhere like mushrooms after rain?

Ach wer heilet die Schmerzen des, dem Balsam zu Gift ward?

December 4, 2017

Who will heal the pain of him for whom balm has turned to poison?

On Friday and Saturday to the SOH for this,  together with the Alto Rhapsody and BWV 82.  My ticket on Friday was an offer made by SSO at the end of the Marthe-Argerich-no-show saga.  So that all worked out OK for me in the end.

It was a bold programming move by Robertson – bringing together three rarities for live performance in Sydney.  Bluebeard was last done by the SSO in 1981, and only once before that.  The SSO first performed the Brahms in 1967 with Janet Baker and last in 1968 with Lauris Elms.  The orchestra’s only previous performances of the Bach were for visits of John Shirley-Quirk in 1967 and Gerard Souzay in 1968.

It was also a notable act of curation.  The Brahms picked up the thread from the two choral odes heard earlier this year; the Bartok from Pelleas and Mellisande, to which it owes much. P&M was of course given a terrific performance earlier this year by the SSO. Listening to the rebroadcast on ABCFM a couple of weeks ago reminded me just how fine that performance was. The Brahms and Bartok each dealt with love, loneliness and hurt.  The title to this post comes from the text to the Brahms, a poem by Goethe apparently inspired by a sad young man (he had read Werther) whom Goethe met whilst on a trip inspecting mines in the Harz Mountains.

There is a very silly review of the concert in the Australian Financial Review which reads like a jump back to the great Australian tradition of sending any journalist with nothing else on off to review a performance.  Michael Bailey writes:

The night had opened with Johannes Brahms’ Alto Rhapsody, back in Sydney after a 40-year break, although in this case one might suspect that is because it is not the German’s most memorable work. The men of the Opera Australia Chorus bought some religious fervour to the piece’s final section – the switch to C major from the opening’s difficult C-minor helped – but in retrospect it seemed Ms DeYoung was holding something back as the soloist.

With the tour de force to come in the second half of the program, one could not blame her.

I don’t find the Alto Rhapsody unmemorable at all. Whilst a dip in Brahms’ popularity probably accounts in some part for its long absence from SSO programs (it is hard these days to imagine Brahms’ onetime position, still taught to me as a child, as one of the “three Bs”), I’d say a more proximate cause is that being short (about 12 minutes) and requiring a soloist and a chorus, it is too much trouble to program.  And Brahms’ symphonies and concerti probably push his shorter works off the notional roster.

What a treat it was to have the men of the Opera Australia Chorus.  Whilst a true contralto might be more ideally suited to the work, I didn’t sense that Michelle de Young was holding back.

At about the same moment on both nights, about a quarter of the way into the last strophe (the choral, C major one) I found myself moved to tears.

Apart from its key, the Bach was the odd piece out in the program, probably included to take advantage of Andrew Foster-Jones’ appearance for Belshazzar’s Feast.  David Greco stepped in when AF-J didn’t show.

It’s really too intimate a work for the Concert Hall.  Robertson’s response to this was to field a surely bigger-than-Leipzig band – 6-6-6-4-2 in the strings plus a bassoon [maybe there were only 4 violas].  I was closer on Friday than on Saturday.  On Friday it seemed lumbering; on Saturday not so lumbering and I can see why such a beefed-up bass line might have been necessary for those further back.

My mental picture of David Greco was fixed when I first saw him, in early Pinchgut productions. Then he cut a somewhat roly-poly figure.  He no longer does so – an achievement I, especially, must respect.  Greco has spent time in Europe following the Early Music path and this showed, especially in some rather stylish ornaments.  I very much enjoyed his performance.

Diana Doherty played the oboe obbligato.  Michael Bailey writes in his review:

Diana Doherty’s swinging yet melancholy oboe made a case for Mr Bach as a proto-jazz composer.

I can’t say that occurred to me at all.

This post is already gone long enough and I’ve run out of steam to write about Bluebeard’s Castle.  I enjoyed it, even more the second time round.

Others didn’t even get to the first time: the work may have been written in 1911 but Bartok can still drive them away – there was a marked interval exodus.  If only the parent of the crying baby carried out from the circle during the opening suspenseful section on the Friday night had taken the same decision.

My one disappointment was that after the house and stage lights were darkened for the spotlit prologue, the stage lights came back up (and, to a lesser extent, the house lights).  The approach taken in Perth in 2000, with darkness and desk-lights for the orchestra, was more atmospheric.