Continuing with my week of Ring selections, here are five recordings of Wotan’s Farewell from Act 3 of Die Walküre. Journet and Hotter end at the moment where Brünnhilde falls asleep – a typically stopping point on most recital discs until well into the 1950s – but the other three versions include the invocation to Loge and the Magic Fire Music. (For some strange reason, Stewart’s live concert performance fades out with about a dozen bars left to go.)

Unless you feel like sampling all of these clips, I’d suggest picking one or two to audition. Hotter, London, and Stewart made commercial recordings of Walküre, and these might provide interesting points of comparison with what I’ve posted here.

I am fortunate indeed to associate here in Seattle with a wide mix of highly talented people who will sometimes unwittingly throw me a lifeline.  That is to say, they tag me with an easy gesture — an invitation, a remark, something apparently effortless — which somehow the conditions of my personal psychology renders into some kind of great rescue, a recuperation of some lost aspect of a personality.  And they smile, and I nod simply in thanks; meanwhile the interior is flooded with light.

One such moment occurred two nights ago at Seattle Center, that noble concentration of arts, mangy dogs, tourists, sunlight, fountains, pillars, lost basketball dreams, and opera houses.

Seattle Center's mere ornament to McGaw Hall and the Seattle Opera; only when one spins 33 1/3 records of opera-deprived yet thick with rue and melody Brahms on the dome does it take full measure of meaning

Arie Schachter, a richly talented symphony violist, romantic composer, and colleague from our days in Cincinnati hooked me up with tickets to the dress rehearsal of The Valkyrie, the second segment of Richard Wagner’s “Ring” cycle.  God, what a journey it was!

Unlike my unfinished concert review of old Yann Tiersen (whose sonorities are, I must say, not as innovative as Wagner’s!), I will cut to the chase in the present essay.

Wagner’s Ring is a journey on multiple levels…

And so to Die Walküre… 

If I weren’t so easy-going temperamentally, I’d have left after Act 1 and not darkened the door of the opera house again whilst the Mariinsky company were on the premises.  This most glorious section of the Ring was dire.  There were no sparks of anything passionate on stage, big dramatic moments were fluffed and, after a exciting orchestral storm at the start, the conversational early parts of the Act were deadly dull.

The staging was a continuation of that described for Rheingold.  I’m not sure how many more configurations of those giant statues we can have, but only time will tell.  I didn’t mention the lighting, which is bright, colourful, ever-changing and omnipresent, and which leads to swift changes of mood for big moments, but also tends to create bright emotion-less spaces for large chunks of the piece. 

Not that emotion is a significant part of the work.  Sieglinde was dramatic – almost hyperactive – but played to a Siegmund about which it would be better to say nothing.  Suffice to say that he failed to achieve dramatic or vocal connection with the role.  If a Siegmund fluffs ‘Siegmund heiss’ ich‘ then you pack up and go home.  A special mention must be made of the withdrawing of the sword, which was inconspicuously stuck in the “tree” for most of the act as though someone had shoved an umbrella into a whole in the statue.  Its withdrawal was preceded by an audible click as Siegmund switched on a light within it.  Maybe having to work with such rudimentary effects contributed to the end of that first act being the single biggest disappointment of this endeavour thus far.  I left for the long interval rehearsing letters of complaint in my mind.

A glass or two of wine later, and we’re into the second act.  Things look up.  This Wotan (Mikhail Kit) looks and behaves more recognisably Wotan.  Brünnhilde launched the act with a very credible and hope-stirring Hojotoho! and on we go from there.  Her costume was the most interesting thing to have been seen on this stage for the last two days: a sort of burlesque goth look, with nods to Morticia Addams.  The confrontation between Fricka (still with vase atop her head) and Wotan was the absolute highpoint thus far.  Diadkova was once again the standout vocal star, acting with both voice and physique.  Kit was slightly underpowered as Wotan, but nonetheless gave a credible, nuanced performace.  Oh, for nuance! 

Sieglinde stood out again in the second act, if anything getting even stronger and integrating acting and singing more effectively for her disturbed scene with Siegmund.  The staging rose reasonably credibly to the challenge of the fight scene – except for Hunding wandering aimlessly about for periods of time – but maybe my views are coloured by the fact that this scene heralded the merciful despatching of Siegmund.

Act 3 started wonderfully.  We seemingly couldn’t find so incisive, vocally bold and individual a set of Valkyries for the Covent Garden Ring, and the staging gave them something more effective to work with than prancing about with horse skulls.  Men, presumably fallen heroes, descended and ascended the height of the stage to be cared for on the ground and then sent off to Valhalla.  This stage picture was only marred by one of them getting stuck at the top, repeatedly being left dangling, before descending again for more ‘caressing’.

The dramatic intensity built through the confrontation between Brunnhilde and her sisters over the question of ‘what to do with Sieglinde’ and we were launched into the Brunnhilde-Wotan scene.  It was at this point that I started realising what is wrong with Gergiev’s approach:  long passages of conversation just sag compared to these fiercely dramatic orchestral outbursts that herald storms and big declamatory moments.  It’s almost as if he gets bored, but the effect for us in the audience is that they seem to start to ramble and become disjointed from the whole.  Nonetheless, Olga Savova as Brunnhilde added some dramatic impetus and Kit made for an effectively insular Wotan, with the cares of the universe on his shoulders. 

The fire-surrounded rock was one of those statues lying up stage with a neat little hollow into which Brunnhilde rested herself, but then the stage just went red as Loge was summoned.  Oddly, most of act 2 had been played on a large square rock that lit up red from within, which would have made a much better fire-surrounded rock in act 3.  Oh well.

Some horn fluffs aside, orchestral playing continued to be the single most impressive aspect of the endeavour (perhaps a concert version next time?).

Siegfried beckons and tends to be (for me) the most difficult bit of the Ring, where it lapses into longeurs periodically.  Wish me luck…

Der Essener Ring, der mit einer spektakulären Wagner-Revue, bei der die Rheingold Musik zum Soundtrack für eine Sex and Crime Show heruntergekommen war,  begonnen hatte, ist mit der Walküre im besten Sinne des Wortes wieder seriös geworden. Ort der Handlung ist ein großzügig bemessener palastähnlicher Saal, der allerdings schon erste Zeichen des Verfalls aufweist und in dem eine Familie preußischer Militäraristokraten oder vielleicht auch die modern-militärisch gekleideten Atriden oder vielleicht auch die Krupps von der Villa Hügel oder vielleicht auch der Wagner Clan residiert: Deutungsmöglichkeiten, die die Regie (Dietrich Hilsdorf) suggeriert. Unter dem Kommando eines Generals Wotan wohnen sie alle in diesem Palast: die Matrone Fricka, die letztlich das Kommando führt, die ganze Schar der unehelichen Kinder (junge Damen in großer Abendrobe), auch die Zwillinge Siegmund und Sieglinde und konsequenterweise auch der wohl nicht ganz standesgemäße Schwiegersohn und Schwager Hunding. Eine solche Konzentration der Szene und des Personals bietet neue dramatische Möglichkeiten:  es erleichtert Siegmund ungemein dem Schwager die Frau zu entführen, und das von Mutti Fricka erwirkte Todesurteil gegen ihren ungeliebten Stiefsohn lässt sich als eine Art Feme Familiengericht zelebrieren, bei der alle Beteiligten präsent sind. Wie es nun einmal bei einem Familientreffen üblich ist, trinkt man sich zunächst einmal zu. Eine schöne Gelegenheit für die Regie, einen weiß gedeckten Esstisch nebst Weingläsern und Rotweinflaschen mitten auf die Szene zu stellen. Im Finale des zweiten Akts, da schießt Hunding den armen Siegmund, der mit seinem mannshohen Schwert in der Hand  wohl noch auf ein richtiges Duell gehofft hatte, mit seinem Karabiner einfach nieder. Und die Leiche liegt am Esstisch, und Hundig trifft beim Anblick des zornigen Familienoberhaupts Wotan der Schlag. Doch vorher krabbelt er noch schnell auf eine Sitzbank und darf dann den ganzen dritten Akt über -  als Untoter drapiert -  dort hocken bleiben. Im dritten Akt ist es nur konsequent, wenn wir uns schon in einem zumindest halbmilitärischen Ambiente des 19. Jahrhunderts befinden, dass die Heldensöhne, die sich die jungen Damen (vulgo: die Walküren) zum Leichenfest ausgesucht haben, als schwule preußische Kadetten auftreten und mit den Wunschmaiden wenig anzufangen wissen. Und Wunschmaid Brünnhilde wird der Einfachheit halber im hohen Saale zum Tiefschlaf eingeschlossen. Eine in sich stimmige Konzeption, die auf das Grundthema ‚Verfall einer Familie’ (ein bekanntlich typisches Thema des späten 19. Jahrhunderts) den Hauptakzent setzt. Eine Inszenierung, die ohne all Gags und Mätzchen aus kommt, den Sängern allen Raum zur Entfaltung lässt und die nie von der Musik ablenkt. Und musiziert wurde  unter der Leitung von Stefan Soltesz dieses Mal – ganz anders als beim Rheingold –  berückend schön, ohne alles Brimborium, einfach nur schön.

Die Premiere war am 24. Mai 2009. Wir sahen die Vorstellung am  4. Juli.

Although Eduard Hanslick wasn’t present at the Munich premiere of Richard Wagner’s Die Walküre on June 26, 1870, the influential Viennese music critic did attend the first Bayreuth Festival in August 1876, and his oft-quoted impressions of that opera’s second act make for very enjoyable reading (especially if you find yourself agreeing with him).

“[It is] an abyss of boredom. Wotan appears, holds a long conversation with his wife, and then, turning to Brünnhilde, gives an autobiographical lecture covering eight full pages of text. This utterly tuneless, plodding narrative, in slow tempo, engulfs us like an inconsolable broad sea from which only the meager crumbs of a few leitmotives come floating towards us out of the orchestra. Scenes like this recall the medieval torture of waking a sleeping prisoner by stabbing him with needles at every nod. We have heard even Wagnerites characterize this second Act as a disaster. It is entirely unneccesary, since with two cuts both episodes could be done away with, painlessly. Die Walküre has, indeed, a very loose relationship with the action of the whole; it tells nothing of the fateful ring which we have not already learned in Rheingold, and only Brünnhilde’s punishment is important for the purpose of the drama.”

Hanslick met Wagner in 1845, and the composer invited him to a performance of Tannhäuser in Dresden the following year, which he reviewed favorably. By the mid-1850s, Hanslick’s tastes had shifted significantly, and he came to place a much higher value on the music of those he felt followed in the tradition of Mozart, Beethoven, and Schumann, most notably Johannes Brahms. Despite his general antipathy towards Wagner’s operas, Hanslick’s account of his time at Bayreuth is actually quite fair and is certainly worth seeking out.

Blogging Shostakovich and Stalin turned out to be a non-starter. There’s not much there for the music listener; mostly footnoted spats with other historians. Pure minutia.

So we turn from a music book to the music book: The Birth of Tragedy Out of the Spirit of Music, by Friedrich Nietzsche. The Birth of Tragedy was first published in 1872; the author was still quite young, and had yet to descend into his much-documented madness. At the time Nietzsche held a coveted professor gig at the University of Basel, remarkable for someone his age.

The book was odd, even for the time. Nietzsche subdivides art into two forms, the Apolline — or visual — arts, and the Dionysiac — or non-visual — arts. (By non-visual arts, he simply means music.) Apolline art, the realm of the Greek god Apollo, individuates us, and most notably reminds us of our mortality. Dionysiac art, the realm of Dionysus, gnaws away at the self, and reminds us that we are a part of something much bigger.

He also sets aside a disproportionate number of pages for friend and composer Richard Wagner. A modern day equivalent would be a university textbook written by a personal friend of Thom Yorke, in which the author not only dedicates the textbook to Thom Yorke and spends half of the book’s pages discussing Radiohead, but neglects all other contemporary artists at the same time.

The book was not received well, and it is clear that Nietzsche grew tired of defending it. In 1886 he appended a foreward to the book, “Attempt at a Self-Criticism,” in which he refers to The Birth of Tragedy as “questionable,” even “impossible.” Yet large segments of the book attempt to explain the allure of this most peculiar of art forms, and our bewildering, yet human response to it.  You may one day lose your hearing from too much music appreciation.  You know this and accept the risks.  Would you similarly risk losing your sight by staring at Van Gogh paintings?

This book should prove to be much more rich with quotables.  And to that end, here is our first:

Singing and dancing, man expresses himself as a member of a higher community: he has forgotten how to walk and talk and is on the verge of flying up into the air as he dances. The enchantment speaks out in his gestures. Just as the animals now speak and the earth gives milk and honey, so something supernatural also echoes out of him: he feels himself a god; he himself now moves in as lofty and ecstatic a way as he saw the gods move in his dream. The man is no longer an artist; he has become a work of art.

And here is some Wagner you might have heard:

-> Video : Harlock Saga – Ride of the Valkyries (This video is not present on youtube and wordpress only accepts youtube vids)

Harlock Saga

Harlock Saga is a six-part anime miniseries by Leiji Matsumoto. An adaptation of Der Ring des Nibelungen, it tells the story of space pirate Captain Harlock and his crew as they try to stop a man who has stolen gold from the center of the galaxy and forged it into a powerful ring.

GAR Musician Wagner

Die Walküre

Die Walküre (The Valkyrie) is the second of the four operas that comprise Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung), by Richard Wagner. It is the source of the famous piece Ride of the Valkyries. Wagner took his tale from the Norse mythology told in the Völsunga Saga and the Poetic Edda.

Apocalypse Now ~ Ride Of The Valkyries

A reocurring theme in some of my dreams is the presence of music and characters. They usually act like a pseudo-chorus in my dreams, not actively participating on what’s happening although they narrate the event.

But my dream last night was another one of these “musical dreams”, starting with my arrival on a craggy mountain top. As my dream-self looked below the surroundings (noticing river systems and ash trees), my attention shifted above as a blast of wind knocked me down. Rain began pouring and the sound of distant thunder was heard.

Richard Wagner’s Die Walküre started to play right on cue.

As I stood up, a valkyrie swoopod above me, chanting her chilling War-Cry.

Hojoto-Ho!

Hojoto-Ho!

Hojoto-Ho!

She was riding her sacred horse, her golden armoury flashing in the darkness of the storm. I paid extreme notice on her spear, which seemed to point at me in a threatening manner.

As she made a turn in the air, as if to charge back at me, I ran towards the edge of the cliff and jumped.

All the while Die Walküre was playing in the background.

I looked back as I fell, and saw her charging at me in haste as she contined to chant her War-Cry.

As I was about to land on the jagged rocks below, I felt her grab me by the back and hoisted me up, like I was some kind of animal.

She continued chanting her War-Cry as she carried me above the clouds. Die Walküre was still playing in the background, albeit ending.

As we made our way presumably to Valhalla, my dream ended.

If you don’t know what Die Walküre is, I suggest watching this:

horo.650

Cargado originalmente por abenyusuf

Lâ hawla wa là quwwa il·lâ bil·lâh, wa lâ gâlib il·lâ Al·lâh
La euforia que producen los pasajes archifamosos de las Valkirias de Wagner, que sigo escuchando como estos días en radio clásica, retransmitiendo en directo desde el Festival de Bayreuth, no se verá empañada por el escándalo inadmisible de las constantes interferencias desagradables en el canal “Ravel” de Euro radio. Es un escándalo, un sabotaje oscurantista, una provocación, pero que asuman las conssecuencias en la Unión Europea, porque no lo haré yo, wa Al·lâh. El locutor se creyó que por poner velas a los dioses paganos iba a funcionar, pero no se le ocurrió pedir humildemente la intercesión de nuestro amado Profeta Muhammad, paz y bendiciones sobre él.
El caso es que además de las impresionantes olas de energía de ciertas frases musicales, la obra está plagada de melodías interesantes, y me entero además que el argumento incluye un amor no solo adúltero, sino incestuoso, así que estamos no ya en pleno mito épico, sino en los sótanos del inconsciente de la Europa oscura. La coronación de las pulsiones incestuosas en la obra de arte más rotunda, eso es ni más ni menos el programa de Wagner. Poco importan ahora las consideraciones sobre el mal gusto de muchos vestuarios como el freaky de los años 30 que reproduzco en la imagen sacada de The New York Times. Lo más relevante es que la música desata sensaciones insólitas de hormonas, como si se tratara de un tratamiento para investigadores del cuerpo.

Cuando leí Les Bienveillantes, me faltaba quizás la cultura musical para apreciar el horror del cuñado del narrador ante la música de Wagner. Hay que entender en efecto lo que ésta supone de intromisión, de conquista, de violencia en último término. El arte violento va por derroteros más complejos que las simples proyecciones de fantasmas sexuales, como se ha sugerido aquí. No creo que se limite a esta vertiente, aunque por supuesto esté presente. El arte violento, en verdad, es una apoteosis de la ilusión, enfrentada a todos los enclaustramientos racionalizadores de las situaciones. Por ello, y pese a su carácter paradójico como mitómano, Wagner me resultá también un liberador. Eso es lo que está implícito en las exigencias de todas las vanguardias del siglo XX, y sobre todo en las más radicales: Dadá, futuristas, surrealistas (antes de los años 30) y finalmente situacionistas de la Internacional. Y es lo que no consiguen con sus instalaciones blandas los licenciados de Bellas Artes, ni con sus novelas sosas los autores de Anagrama, ni lo que conseguirán nunca los artistas pacíficos que teman pisarle el pie a la misma vida.

Wa Al·lâhu a’lam.

O Ornitologia regressa com Anthony Braxton, a fascinação dos USA em crise por Richard Wagner e a edição de 2009 do  festival de música contemporânea de Berlim, que começou a 18 de Março. Ornitologia returns with current fascination of a USA in crise by Richard Wagner and Berlin’s 2009 contemporary music festival that kicked off on 18th of March.