Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643) may be the greatest composer we rarely hear much of. His music these days is the work of specialists who must learn how to play the instruments he used and study the way his music was performed. In many ways, the modern listener must take Monteverdi’s greatness on faith. We don’t know the music of his contemporaries (whom to compare him with), the battles he fought, the aim of his art.
Over the weekend, though, local audiences were treated to a mountain full of Monteverdi. Conductor John Eliot Gardiner was visiting under the auspices of the Philharmonic Society again, bringing his Monteverdi Choir and the period-instrument English Baroque Soloists. Over two nights in Segerstrom Concert Hall he offered two of the composer’s most historical works, the monumental Vespers of 1610 and the opera “L’Orfeo” from 1607, more than 210 minutes of music by my count, both pieces performed without intermission.
There were many things to delight in. The array of instruments used – chittarrone (giant lute), cornetti, sackbuts (early trombones), guitars, piccolo violins (or what I think were), recorders, a portable pipe organ and many more – was just one of them. The blazing sound this orchestra made at full volume was remarkable, and at softer volumes the strumming teemed. Monteverdi, it would appear, was our first great orchestrator, a timbre junkie.
The Vespers of 1610 (to use its shorter title) is the work of a showoff. The piece in fact may have been written as a kind of job audition; at any rate, it pulls out all the stops, displaying the composer’s range in both sacred and secular forms, in deploying large sonic masses, trios, duets and solos, in counterpoint and simple chordal patterns, in melodic invention.
The Vespers is an unsettled and impatient work because variety is the key; the composer never does anything for long, usually not much longer than a phrase or two. Watching the performance was fascinating, as Gardiner sent performers this way and that (including the balconies) in pursuit of the stereophonic and echo effects written into the score.
Gardiner and his performers captured the sheer vitality of this music and perhaps then some. The Monteverdi Choir made a loud, piercing yet perfectly balanced and thrilling sound, like it had taken the gloves off. Gardiner sculpted phrases avidly but also nimbly – the music remained on its toes. The vocal soloists gleamed (a preview of things to come), the Los Angeles Children’s Chorus chimed in seamlessly.
The Vespers is about a display of musical skill. “L’Orfeo,” the first operatic masterpiece (here in a concert performance, though with plenty of movement and acting), is all about musical expression, that is, the expression of the meanings and feelings in the words, and in storytelling. We, as listeners, are on more familiar ground with “L’Orfeo,” because in most ways this is what opera came to be and still is. It retells the ancient Greek myth of Orpheus (the musical charmer) and Eurydice from a remarkably intimate point of view, capturing their joys and sorrows.
It remains a great vehicle for the soloists. As Orfeo, Krystian Adam proved an indefatigably sweet-voiced tenor, eloquently expressive and with plenty of power at his disposal. Francesca Aspromonte was a stunning Eurydice (and two other roles), pure of voice, expertly applying vibrato, gamboling girlishly (playing a mean tambourine and guitar) and suffering palpably. Gianlucca Buratto made an aptly stentorian Charon (and Pluto), and Andrew Tortise an ebullient shepherd and Apollo. Hats off to the other soloists as well, who all seemed to rear back and sing rather than resort to fussy mannerisms.
The Monteverdi Choir, too, lit up everything it sang, and danced and clapped along. Gardiner led sensitively, patiently and knowingly, but I did have a nit. The last three acts unfolded in an all too consistent adagio, in the lassitude of grief. The two-hour timing of the performance (which is long for this piece, and felt it) was a reflection of this, as was the more vigorous applause the Vespers received.
Contact the writer: 714-796-6811 or tmangan@ocregister.com
