June LeBell

Originally published in The Observer
Date: May 13, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

We’ve seen this before. What looks good, interesting, possibly even revolutionary on paper, goes very wrong in real life. This is, unfortunately, what happened at the Sarasota Orchestra’s most recent foray into its Innovations Series when “Revolutions,” a program at the Opera House featuring a multi-media presentation with the Orchestra, two speakers (Joe Reed as Albert Einstein, and the Reverend Charles McKenzie as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.), Miri Ben-Ari (a hip-hop violinist) and conductor Dirk Meyer, all went awry.

If you read this column regularly, you know I am a proponent of mixing things up at traditional concerts. But you also know I always push for reason. If videos are used with the music, they must enhance the music, not detract. If a so-called “pop” artist is the featured soloist, that person must be super talented in both classical and pop fields, proving that great music is great when performed with taste and ability. If a script is written, purportedly to hold the program together, it must be written with intelligence, wit and intellectual flair. And if someone reads from that script, he or she had better be a reader so good you forget the script is being read.

So, back to the unfortunate nature of Saturday night’s performance. It had none of these much needed characteristics and, as a result, had little character.

Ben-Ari, who played on an over-amplified violin, was the biggest misfit of the evening. Her original compositions were superficial, repetitive and simplistic, all sounding the same except her take on the holocaust, “Never Forget,” which slipped into a minor key and sounded like a page from “Schindler’s List” that didn’t make the film’s final cut. Hip hop is not exactly my specialty but whatever it is she writes is an insult to good music and, from the way she played, it was almost impossible to tell why Isaac Stern took an interest in her. (And mispronouncing the conductor’s last name brought forth gasps from both audience and musicians.)

The program, itself, was a good idea on that piece of paper, but just didn’t carry over the print. If the organizing glue was supposed to be a revolutionary theme, placing Beethoven’s “Eroica” Symphony on a program with Uruguayan composer Miguel Aguila’s “The Giant Guitar,” Stravinsky’s “The Rite of Spring” and Ravel’s “La Valse” was more like a small battle. Still, it might have worked better if Stephen Schlow, the writer and stage director, hadn’t dumbed down an already dumb concept. His script for Reed, in the ill-conceived form of Einstein, was peppered with lame jokes and an almost grammar school approach to music and history that would have made Leonard Bernstein cringe.

Meyer’s conducting of the four real pieces of music, while clear and forthright, was somewhat uninspired. The Beethoven felt rushed, without the breathing room it needs to be the heroic piece it is, while both the Stravinsky and Ravel were, at times, played slackly by the musicians, with more attention paid by Meyer to the notes than the music-making. Aguila’s piece — an interesting mix of percussive rhythms and pizzicato strings — was well presented but certainly not revolutionary in any way.

Then there were the slides and light show — yes, light show — that accompanied the music and readings. Many of the slides were ill advised and embarrassing (think “E=mc^2” that sat on the screen above Einstein’s head as he began speaking), while many others were either illegible or indecipherable. And the swirling lights on stage and around the sides of the Opera House were unnecessary and distracting while the colors, in many cases, seemed randomly chosen. It was like being part of a surreal elementary school disco with Beethoven in the background.

Was there anything good about the evening? Well, yes. The program and appearance of Ben-Ari brought in a new audience (that may or may not return) but at least was there, packing the house. Reverend McKenzie’s reading of the “I Have a Dream” speech was passionate, touching and resonant (until Ben-Ari’s over-amplified violin drowned him out). The Sarasota Orchestra proved it is open minded and willing to try new concepts. (You can’t move ahead without making a few mistakes now and then.) The program proved how important a new music director will be for future planning and programming. And, without an intermission, the evening was blessedly short.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: April 24, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

I’m starting to feel as if I’m in a time warp. Having attended the first three programs of this season’s La Musica concerts at the Opera House, I feel I should be wearing my hair in a pageboy, bobbysocks and saddle shoes on my feet and gloves on my hands. I know times have changed since the 1950s, but being at La Musica’s concerts has taken me back to the good old days of music presented for the sake of music with little heed paid to the performers or, for that matter, the audience.

So, the question is, were those really the “good old days?”

La Musica’s audiences are dwindling and, from the way the illustrious organization’s programs are made and presented, it’s understandable. Times have changed and chamber musicians have begun showing their enthusiasm and love for their subjects. That doesn’t mean dumbing-down or cutting quality at all. It means more communication with the audience; bringing listeners into the experience; playing better than ever; programming with an eye to format and an ear to invention. La Musica isn’t doing that.

All three programs presented in the first week of La Musica’s festival presented the same old, same old. The performers — all string players with the exception of pianist Derek Han — rarely infused any joy or passion into their playing so everything sounded the same. That’s not to say the performances were bad. They were just, well, blah.

And there was little attention paid to blend. Violinist Laura Zarina, for example, tends toward a more modern, straight-toned sound. It’s lovely, clear and musical. Cellist Dmitri Atapine’s sound is lush, with a warm, round vibrato. And Han’s piano is edgy and forceful. Put them together in the Brahms “Dumky” Trio and you get a performance that’s all over the place and sounds under-rehearsed.

The best and most cohesive works on the three programs were the Ravel String Quartet, in which violinists Federico Agostini and Ruth Lenz, violist Daniel Avshalomov and cellist Julie Albers seemed very much at home stylistically and musically, and Tchaikovksy’s A Minor Piano Trio with Zarina, Atapine and Han, who — still not very well blended — came across with a compelling, convincing performance.

Then, there was the programming. Boccherini’s C Minor String Trio is a bland and dusty piece that’s usually relegated to “filler” music on a radio station. Agostini, violist Bruno Giuranna and Albers couldn’t make it come alive and we couldn’t help wonder, why try?

It was somewhat interesting to hear Richard Strauss’ “Metamorphosen” in its setting for seven instruments but there’s a reason the 23-part version is more popular. And even Rossini hated his Sonata a Quattro No. 3 in C, calling it part of “ … six horrendous sonatas composed by me …” at the age of 12.

La Musica has had a wonderful reputation for good reason. It presented interestingly varied programs played by world-class performers. Today, there are too many really good, exciting chamber ensembles and festivals presenting powerful, cogent programs infused with personality and vigor. Without dumbing down anything, La Musica needs to rethink itself. Chamber music is a specialty that we don’t want to lose and there’s no reason La Musica can’t get back in the race.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: April 17, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

The Sarasota Orchestra and guest conductor, Peter Bay, offered a program of two blockbusters from a pair of countries that could be called the cornerstone blocs of the East and the West: Russia and America. In one corner — out of Russia and appearing as the heavyweight champion of the East — Pyotr Tchaikovsky. And representing the West — America’s all-time heavyweight champ — Aaron Copland.

A great admirer of both musical champions, I’d forgotten how much I loved Tchaikovsky’s B-flat Minor Piano Concerto and Copland’s spectacular, no, make that brilliant, Third Symphony.

It was the first piano concerto that raised Van Cliburn to prominence in 1958 at the Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow, and it’s hard to hear that piece without picturing the tall, lanky Texan who won hearts around the world. Andrew von Oeyen, the soloist with the Sarasota Orchestra, is another long, lanky pianist with hands as big as Texas and technical skills and musicality to match. He and Bay offered a particularly satisfying performance with the Orchestra — especially the strings and winds — showing they could match their mastery of the work with major orchestras in this country and abroad. The rich cello solo in the slow movement was particularly beautiful, and the more than 30-minute work seemed to pass more quickly than a blink.

But, for me, it was the Copland that made the concert memorable. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it live and, not since the New York Philharmonic played it on a program with two other “Thirds” — William Schuman’s and the one by Roy Harris — have I heard it played this well. Bay led what I’d call an erudite performance, always allowing the music to breathe and always going beneath the score to bring out what the composer intended.

Of course, there’s the famous “Fanfare for the Common Man,” which Copland wrote about four years before he turned to this symphony and incorporated into its fourth movement with such skill it still sends shivers up my spine. It’s a brilliant work, and it was given a brilliant performance by the orchestra’s outstanding brass section, which really got a workout, and Bay, who kept everything in balance even though this is one of the loudest pieces, overall, I can think of.

Copland managed to use his distinctive mid-20th century musical language to paint classical music in the American tongue we’ve come to associate with this country. Open fourths and fifth predominate the landscape, sounding like the great outdoors and Rockies, while rhythms are syncopated in ways that paint portraits of our great cities: New York, Los Angeles and Chicago. Hear Copland’s Third and you know you’re not in Europe any more. And hearing it played by the Sarasota Orchestra musicians so stylistically right, so brashly American, you knew you were in the presence of a truly excellent ensemble.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: April 10, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

The Chroma Quartet has been together since 2008, but it’s only this season the group really made a splash on the Sarasota music scene. The players — violinists Christopher Takeda and Jennifer Best Takeda, violist Michael McClelland and cellist Abraham Feder — are all members of the Sarasota Orchestra but, unlike several other chamber groups that are under the mantel of the orchestra, this ensemble is on its own. As a result, the members have had to fend for themselves in terms of fundraising, publicity and venues — and they’ve done really well.

This year, Chroma presented three concerts for the First Tuesdays at First Church series, appearing there to bigger and bigger audiences each time. And with good reason.

Chroma’s programs are unique and fascinating. Its last concert, about a week ago, was called “Seriously Joking!” and went from Haydn’s E-flat Quartet — known as “The Joke,” to Beethoven’s Quartet in F Minor, subtitled, “Serioso,” with a charmingly quirky, awaard-winning “Half-Diminished Scherzo,” by Piotr Szewczyk, in between.

Along with the clever programming, Chroma plays well. Haydn’s “Joke” is a serious work filled with insider music pranks along with some obvious gags that can put the audience in musical stitches. It’s also an extremely exposed piece that leaves intonation and blending vulnerable but, except for some rare balance nuisances, Chroma pulled it off with a pure, straight execution that had the audience chuckling along with the unexpected syncopations and multiple false endings.

The “Half-Diminished Scherzo” offers intricate rhythmic pulses, intriguing cascades of almost modal-sounding scales and a slow passage layered with shimmering intervals and tiers of colorful chords that were densely written but well-defined in the hands of Chroma. The late afternoon sun streaming through the church’s stained glass windows added a visual illumination that made this work particularly inspiring. And the sanctuary’s acoustics, unequaled in Sarasota, helped delineate the wondrous sound of this work, which has won awards for Szewczyk.

One of the inspired Chroma trademarks is that each of the group’s members speaks to the audience as an introduction to each piece. Charming, witting and informed, they add their own personalities to the mix of music, making these concerts enlightening as well as entertaining.

In an introduction to the Beethoven, Feder quoted Joseph Kerman, author of “Beethoven Quartets,” with the best description of the “Serioso” Quartet I’ve heard: “It’s impulsive, defiant, pained, adversarial … The F Minor Quartet is not a ‘pretty’ piece, but it is terribly strong — and perhaps rather terrible … Everything unessential falls victim, leaving a residue of extreme concentration … ”

Feder called the work “compressed music,” and the performance that followed was as expressive and descriptive in the Chroma’s playing as the words were in Feder’s introduction.

Chroma is an ensemble that jokes with charm while playing with great seriousness. The group will be presenting its second season —the first Tuesdays of February, March and April — next year in the Music Fine Arts series at the First United Methodist Church. I suggest you get a subscription before it sells out.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: April 3, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

One of the greatest of all opera composers, Giuseppe Verdi, is having what would be his 200th birthday celebrated all this year, and Sarasota Opera, being one of the greatest proponents of his work, got an almost seven-month lead (his actual date of birth was Oct. 10, 1813) with a massive concert, at the Opera House, featuring some of his best and least known works.

One problem with a concert of operatic scenes is that there’s no time for the singers to get into character. There are also no costumes or scenery, so the singers are without their usual operatic accoutrements. Another difficulty is singers too often sing an excerpt from a role they’re not yet up to, vocally. (On the other hand, it gives younger, less experienced singers a chance to do a scene or two from an opera that may be fine for them in the future.) And subtlety often takes a backseat to enthusiasm.

Of course, having an orchestra on stage with them, especially one as excellent as the Sarasota Opera Orchestra, led by Artistic Director Victor DeRenzi, is a great support, as is the exceptional chorus of studio artists and apprentices.

The solo singers on stage were no slouches, either. A few did a bit of over-singing, pushing their resources to the very edge of their current abilities, but, for the most part, they came across well.

The Act I trio and Act II tenor aria, which Verdi cut from the original versions of “Un giorno di regno,” were wonderful examples of singers in evening dress suffusing their roles with character and charisma. Danielle Walker, Jennifer Feinstein and especially tenor Hak Soo Kim, were all in excellent voice and, without flailing or flaunting, managed to turn themselves, vocally and figuratively, into their roles.

Sean Anderson and Kevin Short managed a well sung but fairly wooden performance of the Act II duet between Rodrigue and Philippe in the French version of “Don Carlos,” while Walker and Heath Huberg gave a credible performance of the Brindisi from “La Traviata,” although neither is ready to take on the full role at this stage in their careers.

The excerpts from “Aida” were thrilling with full throttle singing from Jonathan Burton as Radames, Feinstein as Amneris, Short as Amonasro, Young Bok Kim as The King and William Roberts (a studio artist) as Ramfis.
Lindsay Barche, a Studio Artist, made a last-minute appearance for the ailing Brenda Harris in the title role. Although singing only excerpts, Barche, whose voice has grown considerably since appearing here in “The Crucible,” may want to be careful of the roles she accepts. A recent Internet blog dealt with this subject, with singers and managers weighing in on the dangers of singing roles one is not yet up to performing. Having a gigantic voice doesn’t mean one is ready to take on gigantic parts. Doing so could lead to gigantic vocal problems.

Subtlety was not the order of the evening, but extravagance of sound and enthusiasm were. Even more was this thought: Sarasota is blessed to have an opera company that can bring us such excellence. We’re also fortunate to have two such excellent orchestras — Sarasota Opera Orchestra and Sarasota Orchestra — living and performing in our midst. Very few cities, especially of our size, can boast such riches.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: March 27, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

The Beethoven Orchestra Bonn, on its current tour of the United States, made a stop last week in Sarasota and proved how different musical tastes can be with an ocean between. The more than 100-year-old orchestra brought an all-Beethoven program, starting with the rarely heard overture from the composer’s incidental music to “The Ruins of Athens.” The real meat of the program’s first half came with the Fourth Piano Concerto with Louis Lortie, the well-recorded pianist.

It seemed as though the conductor and soloist had different views of this concerto, and they never quite got together on their interpretations. Lortie’s over-pedaling gave the piano a blurred sound, while Music Director Stefan Blunier led the orchestra in a dry reading without much nuance. Occasionally, lines were taken out of context and phrases simply ended without being tapered or shaped.

The entire second half of the program was devoted to Beethoven’s great Symphony No. 7, and here the reading was so different from anything we’ve heard before that we had to think in musicological terms. Without going into a whole history of the metronome and the markings Beethoven used in his scores, it’s fascinating to look into some of the recordings made by the scholarly conductor, Roger Norrington. Whether you agree with the aggressively fast tempos, Norrington has been making a case for clear, clean, unromanticized sounds in music of the late-18th- and early-19th centuries.

We think this was what Blunier was striving for with this symphony, but he took the fast sections so fast they became a blur lacking definition and reason. If we thought the second movement, Allegretto, was fast, we could barely believe the tempo he took the finale, Allegro con brio.

Blunier also over-played the strings, so even the brilliant horns and brass in this symphony were overpowered and hard to hear. It was as if a whirling dervish had taken the podium and swept away the dots and syncopations of the Beethoven we know and left our ears in the dust.

It’s hard to know what to make of this performance. The orchestra has to be good to play anything at such a clip. Yet, there were ragged entrances throughout the concert and, for all the momentary sparks of brilliant playing, there were even more moments when the phrases were pulled out of context and lacked any real nuance and shading. Speed with style can be exhilarating. This was just exhausting.

Interestingly, the encore the Beethoven Orchestra Bonn and Blunier chose, a Stokowski transcription of a Bach chorale, was the best played and interpreted piece on the program. Here, the phrasing was round and the tone rich. This is a terrific orchestra, but we have to question some of its music director’s musicological decisions.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: March 20, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

The Sarasota Orchestra’s Masterworks concert this past weekend was titled “Made in America” and featured a quartet of pieces that, in one way or another, represented American culture. Fittingly, it featured an American guest conductor, Andrew Grams, who is probably — of all the guest conductors who’ve come to Sarasota in the past several years — the most technically gifted.

Interestingly, Grams is an extremely European conductor. Perhaps his work with the Cleveland Orchestra — probably the most European of all the major American symphonic ensembles — has trained him to take a more conservative approach to his conducting. Whatever it is, it serves him well except for the moments when his excellent technique stands in the way of his emotions.

Technique seemed at the forefront in the program’s first two works, starting with a charming piece called the “Tamiami Sinfonietta.” This four-movement work was composed by children from four area elementary schools who came up with inventive, catchy and fascinatingly American melodies, which Greg Smith (not to be confused with Gregg Smith, the choral conductor/composer) scored. Each movement had its own flavor ranging from a minor-key march to a jazzy, syncopated finale (with a lot of John Williams-like harmonies) and the orchestra, under Grams, gave the work a serious but exciting treatment.

Irving Fine, whose fun choruses from “Alice in Wonderland” Gloria Musicae performed a few years ago, wrote in the first half of the 20th century, turning out symphonic, chamber and vocal music that is very much of its time and place. His “Toccata concertante,” written in 1947, has an early 20th-century American sound and combines tonality with jazz, open fourths and fifths, lots of percussion and complex rhythms that make it accessible, yet interesting. Grams and the orchestra gave it a texturally layered performance that was precise but colorful.

The Piano Concerto in F was a relatively early George Gershwin work, in which the young composer hadn’t yet had the classical training he would have in the later years of his short life. Some say he was trying to prove he could write a serious classical piece and, as intricate and difficult as it may be to play, it is a fine example of American ingenuity combined with traditional European musical practices.

That’s exactly the reading it received by the orchestra with Grams and pianist William Wolfram. The first movement was particularly serious, with every note in place but a certain lack of soul. The adagio and finale, however, picked up a spark, and Wolfram’s own faultless technique carried with it some beautiful colors while Grams brought out the vast dynamic range of the orchestra, especially from the brass section.

Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9, “From the New World,” gave Grams an opportunity to feel more at home. Here, the composer’s take on American life, weaving folk songs and traditional American rhythms and melodies into a European fabric, brought the admirable musicianship of the individual Sarasota Orchestra musicians to the forefront, and there was no lack of soul this time around. Grams gave it an impassioned, gorgeous performance, highlighted by exquisite playing from all the instrumentalists, particularly the English horn solo in the slow movement, the unrivaled artistry of the French horn solos and the sensitive clarinet and cello duet in the finale.

Grams has musicianship and technique to burn. I look forward to a time when he unleashes the passion that seems simmering beneath the polish. When he does that, he’ll be at the top of the conducting pool in this country.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: March 13, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

“Of Mice and Men,” an opera of emotionally epic proportions written so economically not one note or word lacks meaning, opened this weekend for the first time at Sarasota Opera. Carlisle Floyd, one of America’s greatest living opera composers, has taken the classic Steinbeck story and given it, through his music, color, pathos and despair, that which has turned it into the great American tragedy that reaches into your heart, squeezes it and, finally, rips it from your chest.

In producing this, Sarasota Opera — the third in its American Classics series — has given us a cast that so embodies this work, you forget they’re singing and acting. Rather, you grow to empathize with the piteous people on stage to the point they become your relatives, your friends, your family; people you grew up with; people you know; people you’ve seen; people you hope you’re not but know, deep down, you could be.
George Milton (Sean Anderson) is a big-hearted man of America, a wanderer and worker who dreams of a better life and, along the way to reaching that vision, takes on the care of Lennie Small (Michael Hendrick) who is also searching for a better way. But Lennie is what our grandparents might have called “not quite right.” A big man with a small aptitude, his aspirations are simple: friendship, a home and some small, soft things he can stroke and pet. The problem is, Lennie doesn’t know his own strength and sometimes, when he’s simply trying to be gentle, breaks and kills things, from small animals to hands and necks.

Hendrick, a last-minute replacement for the tenor originally slated to sing Lennie, has made this role his own by slipping into the skin of this lovable but dangerous galoot with such a tight fit, vocally and emotionally, it’s hard to think of him as anyone else. Hendrick, who’s sung everything from Bacchus in “Ariadne” at the Met to Parsifal with the Lyric Opera of Chicago, has a soaring tenor voice that seems endless in range, color and depth. Yet, his acting is so skilled, his characterization so complete, you forget he’s singing; with remarkable enunciation and body language, he totally personifies Lennie.

Anderson also embodies the part of George, singing the role with a sturdy, flexible, strong baritone that never strains and always personifies this kind-hearted, trustworthy man of the rails and roadhouses.

There’s only one woman in this opera, and she’s such a tart, so much the flirt, so sordidly self-centered, she doesn’t have a name. She is, simply, Curley’s Wife. Played with astounding dynamism by studio artist Chelsea Basler, her soprano cajoles, trifles, seduces and dallies with the enormous range of notes and emotions Floyd has given her, making her the villain in a dress, the demise of dreams.

Curley, sung with finesse by Studio Artist Jon Jurgens, is the angriest man on stage, always furious and always picking fights.

Carlson (Marvin Kehler) and the Ballad Singer (Jason Winfield) — both studio artists — make strong impressions in their roles. And Slim (Matthew Hanscom) becomes the shining light of understanding and strength with characterization and vocalism to match, while Andrew Gangestad, as Candy, uses his powerful bass to personify an old man who’s not too elderly to have a dream of his own.

Michael Unger has taken this beautifully constructed opera and turned it into a brilliant piece of theater. Singers are allowed to soar but, through Unger’s intelligent and poignant direction, they use their singing voices to embody their characters. David Neely, the conductor, brings out every important nuance and sound from the excellent orchestra while permitting the singers the freedom to act with their voices and bodies.

The scenic design, adapted from a production by the renowned John Conklin, has interior sets — barns and bunkhouses — so real you can almost smell the timber. And, as always, Howard Tsvi Kaplan’s costumes and Ken Yunker’s lighting set the tone for the era with care and ingenuity.

Kudos must also be given to Pede the dog, who seems born to his role on stage. Pede gets our Golden Biscuit Award for best four-footed performer.

“Of Mice and Men” is a true American verismo opera. Lyric and often tonal, Floyd has used his music to underscore this great American tragedy with a theatrical genius reminiscent of another great composer of the theater, Puccini. It’s not an easy story but, then, neither is “Madama Butterfly” or “Turandot.” Raw emotion fairly swims through every note; it’s even evident in the silences. Floyd works with tension, and he has us riveted as we wait for the inevitable gunshot and snap of a neck. And, from the prolonged (and deserved) cheers and ovations at the end of this production, it’s made converts of many who never thought they’d salute a 20th-century opera.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: March 6, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

In the 11 years I’ve lived here, I’ve come to regard the Sarasota Orchestra as one of the finest instrumental ensembles I’ve heard. Young, vibrant, vigorous and highly musical, it is — as they say in the business — a great band. This weekend, my estimate of its members rose even higher as they, miraculously, pulled one of the most poorly conducted concerts I’ve ever witnessed out of a bag like a bunch of magic rabbits.

Alessandro Siciliani, who used to be the conductor of the Columbus (Ohio) Symphony, has a bio that reads a bit like a travelogue but doesn’t put him in one place more than one or two times. Some of his past reviews don’t read much better. Still, one would think he’d be able to lead an excellent ensemble and give a credible reading of two works familiar to him: Martucci’s “Notturno” and Verdi’s Sinfonia from “Aida,” as well as the Beethoven Symphony No. 9, a work all too familiar to most audiences. Not so.

Attending one of this past weekend’s performances was a perfect lesson in what a conductor does. A good ensemble — and the Sarasota Orchestra is more than just good — can play all the notes and, with a little help from the concertmaster, start and stop together. What the conductor does is mold, shape and give insight into the music. The conductor guides the musicians so the notes on the page become alive with his or her interpretation of what the composer meant. The conductor must, at times, be a good traffic cop, making sure wrecks don’t occur at awkward moments when the composer has written a fermata, asking that a note be held, or a ritardando that slows things down a bit.

In the Martucci, a pretty piece that sounds like an Italian take on Mahler’s famous Adagietto, there was little focus. Although Siciliani managed to hold things together at an uncannily slow pace, it was just a blur of meanderings, like a Delius work gone amok. The Verdi was equally muddy except that the opening pianissimo portion for strings was played beautifully by the violins, and the solo clarinet soared in the hands of principal Bharat Chandra.

The Beethoven, however, received a reading that, because of the conductor, almost fell apart several times. Cues, if decipherable, were sometimes afterthoughts. There was no focus, no sense of interpretation and no real understanding of the massive work. The excellent Festival Chorus, which Joseph Holt had thankfully well-trained, was hung out to dry without a word mouthed or even a nod of the head to bring them in or cut them off.

The solo quartet, placed by Siciliani for unknown reasons behind the orchestra, managed to make itself heard: soprano Heather Spence, who has a voice that could etch glass sharply but is perfect for the Ninth Symphony; Gabriela Garcia, who had the unenviable task of singing the alto solos, which are almost inaudible no matter who sings them; Yeghishe Manucharyan, an excellent tenor; and Mikhail Svetlov, a rather wooly bass.

Singers and instrumentalists were all heroic because Siciliani’s grand display of gymnastics and gyrations served to distract rather than help. Having this encounter is painful, for the musicians as well as the audience. But it can also be a great learning experience, and I’m proud of the Sarasota Orchestra and Festival Chorus for having come through as well as they did. If they can do this, they can do anything.

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Originally published in The Observer
Date: March 6, 2013
by: June LeBell | Contributing Columnist

What a difference a year makes. In 1840, Giuseppe Verdi’s wife and, two children died and then, “Un giorno di regno” (“A King for a Day’) came along and everyone hated it. Not the best of times. Everything, from the singers on stage to the gods in the heavens, seemed to be conspiring against Verdi.

Now, I wasn’t there, but my guess, based on the joyful music and the splendid current production at Sarasota Opera, is that Verdi didn’t have the right cast 173 years ago. His singers were expecting “Un giorno” to be a serious story, and they were probably serious singers without a funny bone in their bodies. They were probably miffed they weren’t singing “contemporary” Verdi, but, rather a Verdi who was looking back at the music theater of Rossini and Donizetti. So, they didn’t give the work the performance it deserved, and “A King for a Day” became a flop for the times.

That’s not so with the new production at Sarasota Opera. In the elastically humorous hands of director Martha Collins, this cast has made “A King for a Day” a hit for the season.

The story, based on the comedy, “Le Faux Stanislas,” (The False Stanislaw) by Alexander Duval, has all the wit, eccentricity and hilarity of a really good farce. The King of Poland, Stanislaw, has asked the Cavaliere of Belfiore to take his place for what turns out to be a day while he tends to business in Poland. The false king visits the castle of the Baron of Kelbar whose friends are kowtowing and bowing to the “king,” trying to win his favor. There are a couple of love trapezoids (far more entangling than the simple triangles), a nest of two-faced, slightly dim-witted counts and squires out to get what they can, even if it means selling off daughters and lovers like a pound of lox at Zabars. And there’s the false king who knows he may never have the power that’s suddenly been thrust upon him and, with his penchant for meddling in the love lives of others, manages to contort, manipulate and alter the future of every individual in the court, mostly for the better.

Corey Crider, as the king for a day, is a warm, believable poseur who searches beneath the outer crustiness of power and comes up with a fun-loving, attractive character. Crider, a baritone who seems able to do almost anything with his voice, beautifully embodies the Cavaliere and is able to play with the audience, as well as his colleagues on stage.

That playfulness seems to embody everyone on stage thanks to Collins’ understated but immensely funny staging. This slightly incestuous court (everyone seems related to everyone else), in Collins’ hands, isn’t a group of singers but, rather, a set of evolving individuals who entertain and delight each other, as well as the audience.

Jennifer Feinstein, as the Marchesa of Poggio, who is really the Cavaliere’s lover but isn’t quite sure if she’s seeing her real fiancé or just his face on the body of the King of Poland, is believably befuddled by all the flummoxing. A mezzo of enormous range and flexibility, her Marchesa is an attractive, smart woman who turns perplexing circumstances to her own advantage.

Danielle Walker, our Giulietta, who is almost married off to the wrong man, is a charming, beautiful young soprano with a lyric voice that carries well over the footlights and has a demeanor reminiscent of Beverly Sills in her energetic hey-day.

Stefano de Peppo, her father, the Baron, and Kevin Short, Signor La Rocca, are hilarious as the social-climbing duo who threaten, cajole and coax each other into what could be ruination, were it not for the false king’s commitment to set the world straight in 24 hours. Short, particularly, has a wonderful proclivity for comedy and, by not over-acting or over-singing, almost stole the show.

Finally, Hak Soo Kim’s light but far-reaching tenor turned Edoardo, the young officer in love with Giulietta, into a prince-of-a-person and singer.

Jeffrey W. Dean did miraculous things with scenery that seemed plucked out of a late Ingres or early Monet painting. Each set, from the halls of the castle to the gardens outside, were works of art, which Ken Yunker brilliantly set.

The orchestra, under Victor DeRenzi, was extraordinary. It sounded stylish and offered just the right kind of support for the excellent soloists and chorus on stage. But, why didn’t that excellent chorus get a curtain call? They do so well, sound so good and add so much character but never get the deserved praise.

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