Phillipa Reive was today appointed Director, Creative Campus, Snape Maltings. Kate Wyatt was named Producer – Opera and Music Theatre.

A new year-round hub is slowly taking shape.

All names in this article are spelled correctly (rather than creatively).

From the Lebrecht Album of the Week:

This has to be the least expected record of the year – a performance of Ein deutsches Requiem in the original English, at least in the texts of the original English Bible….

Read on here.

 

From my piece in the Spectator today:

… And this is where the Chinese revolution comes close to home. Shanghai grads have been winning seats in orchestras across the US and Europe. The next wave of Chinese players will be coming from our own colleges, royal and ancient and underused.

Every ranking music conservatory is now marketing in China, peddling its pedigree for dear life…

Read on here.

 

From the London Times obituary:

To some of his critics Hvorostovsky — with his silver locks, piercing features and air of vulnerability — was little more than the oligarchs’ opera star, a man of mystery with connections deep inside the political heart of Moscow, evidence of Russian meddling in opera long before the country had started influencing elections. He duetted with Renée Fleming in Red Square, sang to an audience of 6,000 in the Kremlin and when he turned 50 received a birthday telegram from President Putin.

This is completely unfounded. Alone among Russian singers, Hvorostovsky refused to sign Putin’s manifestos or dance to the Kremlin’s tune. He enjoyed mass popularity in Russia and Putin left him alone. If the Times knows of controlling oligarchs or ‘mystery’ connections, it should name them rather than promulgate false rumours. It should also name ‘some of his critics’, who contributed to the obit.

His second wife successfully persuaded him to cut back on his heavy smoking and drinking, but by then the damage was done and in the summer of 2015 a brain tumour was diagnosed.

Cause and effect? There is no known link between smoking and brain cancers. This is just another slur, blaming a man for his own death.

Will anyone own up to writing this unseemly trash?

We hear that seven seats in the strings of the internationally-boycotted Malaysian Philharmonic have been earmarked for ethnic Malays – no Chinese or Europeans need apply.

That’s what the chief executive has been telling her colleagues.

The MPO has been a pariah orchestra ever since it cleaned out most of its foreign players.

Those seats may stay empty a while yet.

In a packed international schedule, our diarist Anthea Kreston squeezes in time to see students – and their mothers.

 

 

The taxi picked me up a moment ago – it is 5:45 AM – this week I have been to Brussels twice, now I head to Geneva and will also have played in Cologne, Berlin and Munich before I write my diary again. In-between these concerts, some of my quartet colleagues go directly to the next destination, but I always opt to go home, if at all possible, to even spend an afternoon or portion of the day with my family. Yesterday was such a day – arriving home the night before, after midnight, from two days teaching at the Queen Elizabeth Chapel in Brussels (where the Queen Elizabeth competitions are held, as well as a flourishing year-round residential program for top soloists and chamber groups). I snuggled with my daughters – to even have those moments to share sleep, to hear their little breaths coming in and out, shifting and resettling after I climb in – this is worth the extra effort to come home. It was Thanksgiving – how could I not come back?

We spent the morning lazily, going shopping and peering in on the progress of our local Christmas Market (built upon a long blocks-worth of wooden platforms – including an ice rink, train, multi-story wooden cabins, mulled wine and trinket shoppes).  We got ingredients for our meal, and I left directly for some teaching and meetings at the Universität der Künste, where I am still agog at walking the same hallways as the Schumanns or teaching in the Carl Fleisch Hall.

My mother is here for these weeks – I am gone much more than I am here – to help with the day-to-day ins and outs. Our daughters played a little concert for us before dinner – when I got back from work, they were in the kitchen with grandma in their new aprons – making a cake. Next to our place settings, each of us had a card from our older daughter, with drawings and things she was thankful for. They had made a centerpiece of colored papers surrounding votive candles. It did feel like Thanksgiving- so far from our home, friends and family – we have made a nest for ourselves here – slowly and with many missteps and small victories.

After dinner, I had promised one of my old Corvallis students a FaceTime lesson – as the call was answered, the familiar faces of his parents were in the screen as my student wandered in, yawning in his pajamas. They were in the midst of preparing a meal for 30 guests – a lovely Persian family who became close friends during our time in Oregon.

After our lesson, I asked my student if I could talk to his mom for a moment. Calling into the kitchen in Farsi, his mom came in, wiping hands on her apron. She and I spoke for some time – things have not been easy recently here for us, and I was eager for a sympathetic ear, some advice or understanding. So many of our friends and students have made a similar move to ours – coming to America with suitcases and children in hand, to make a new life in a foreign land and with little knowledge of the culture or language. And yet, through fits and starts, we all flourish.

She listened, resisted offering advice – just explored options and solutions with me. By the end of the conversation, we were both crying a little, and gave each other a hug over the computer. I read this week about a scientific research project on happiness and wellbeing. There was one simple question that caught my eye – it was – “is there anyone in your life you would feel comfortable calling at 4 AM to talk about a problem”? If there is, your life expectancy is greater. I thought of this person, expecting 30 guests in a matter of minutes, who took the time to listen, to connect. And I can think of a handful of people who I would be able to talk to this way. I do, indeed, have a lot to be thankful for.

A post-Brexit enticement from our good German friends:

Ladies and Gentlemen,

German surtitles for operas sung in other languages have been provided at Oper Frankfurt since 1990 and, later on, could also be seen for operas performed in German. Early on, audiences were very critical of there being any surtitles at all, but they soon became more acceptable because audience members could follow the operas better  – in Frankfurt and other opera houses. Nowadays one cannot imagine a leading opera house not providing, at least, surtitles in the language of their country.

Oper Frankfurt has just introduced English surtitles, which appear above the stage alongside German surtitles, for all performances in the main house. Exceptions are two concert performances of Donizetti’s Roberto Devereux from February 2nd2017, the revival of Britten’s Billy Budd (which is performed in English anyway) from May 19th 2018 and the remaining performances, this season, of Verdi’s Il trovatore and Mozart’s Die Entführung aus dem Serail. New monitors were installed at the beginning of the 2017/18 season at the sides of the auditorium, under the circles, for people who could not see the central monitor well but, because of a lack of space, and technical reasons, only the German surtitles can be seen on them.

 

alles klahr?

‘We see the provision of English surtitles as an attractive offer for our increasingly international audiences – particularly in a city like Frankfurt – which will hopefully make a visit to the opera all the more enjoyable. Anyone who experienced, as was the case during a performance of Mozart’s Così fan tutte, when technical problems prevented the surtitles from being projected, would have been surprised by the lack of laughter in the audience. This is evidence for me of how surtitles for operas have become fully established, and almost taken for granted. And, to our surprise, one really can hear how our audiences’ enjoyment has increased since we have started providing English surtitles,’ said Opernintendant Bernd Loebe.

The Théâtre Paul Éluard of Bezons, Val-d’Oise, has called off a new ballet after the veteran choreographer Daniel Dobbels was accused by dancers of sexual abuse under the guise of dancing’.

The choreographer’s lawyer says he reserves his right to sue the dancers for defamation.

Report here.

We have been informed that the artist Milein Cosman died earlier this week, at home in London, at the age of 96.

She was a constant presence in London concert halls for seven decades, sketching in rehearsal, observing closely in performance, summarising shrewdly at the post-gig party.

As wife and widow of the musical savant Hans Keller, Milein knew every maestro from Stravinsky to Salonen and saw far beyond the official facade.

Like Hans, she never uttered a false opinion or a second-hand thought.

At the Berlin Philharmonie last night the singers Rolando Villazon and Ildar Abdrazakov came on stage just before 8pm to dedicate their performance in memory of Dmitry Hvorostovsky, Ildar’s close friend.

A minute’s silence was observed before the concert began. The Janacek Philharmonic Orchestra Ostrava has joined the two singers on a European tour.

Tonight at the Met, James Levine will dedicate a Verdi Requiem in Dima’s memory.

At the Royal Opera House Covent Garden, the opening night of Rigoletto will be dedicated to his memory.

The Salzburg university is fast becoming the laughing stock of cultural Europe as its latest attempt to appoint a rector collapses in disarray.

The story so far: two years ago, the Mozarteum appointed a German pianist, Siegfried Mauser, as its rector.

He turned out to be a molester of female colleagues, convicted by a Munich court.

His successor, from Cologne, took one look at the Mozarteum’s governance and fled this summer before starting work.

In panic they appointed a nice lady from Trossingen, but her salary demands were so off the scale that they got leaked to a Vienna newspaper.

Still, a deal is a deal – or so we thought.

Last night four members of the Mozarteum board of governors resigned, leaving a meeting that was supposed to endorse the new rector several rumps short of a quorum. Collapse of stout council.

It’s starting to look as if what starts in Trossingen stays in Trossingen.

The Mozie, meanwhile, is hilariously headless.