We move on to No. 7 as we count our way through those "Top 10 [or 11] Orchestral Clarinet Solos" with (mostly) Stanley Drucker

STANLEY D. GOES TO THE OPERA --
AND HEREUPON HANGS OUR TALE
(with apologies for the crappy sound and crappier end-edit)


OR, TO HEAR IT IN CONTEXT --
(still in crappy sound, but at least without my unavoidably crappy edit)

Great Performers at Lincoln Center, Avery Fisher Hall, live, April 1983
[Note the audience's response when they hear Stanley D. launch "The Solo."]

And the stars were shining
and the earth was perfumed,
the garden gate creaked,
and footsteps grazed the path.
She entered, all fragrance,
she fell into my arms.
O sweet kisses, o languid caresses,
while I, trembling,
unloosed the veils, revealing her beauty!
Gone forever that dream of love --
the hour has fled,
and I die despairing, and I die despairing!
Yet never before have I loved life, loved life so much!

Luciano Pavarotti, tenor; with Stanley Drucker, clarinet; New York Philharmonic, Zubin Mehta, cond. Encore performance from a Pavarotti-Mehta "Gala Concert," telecast live from Avery Fisher Hall, Apr. 4, 1983 (with post-performance announcements by Martin Bookspan)
[Note: Farther along we're going to hear Luciano P. in good studio sound.]

by Ken

We're continuing our countdown through Charlotte (NC) Symphony Orchestra clarinetist Allan Rosenfeld's list of his "Top 10 Orchestral Clarinet Solos," in the company (mostly) of the New York Philharmonic's 61-season clarinetist, Stanley Drucker (1929-2022) -- first, from age 19, as assistant principal, then for an amazing 49 seasons as principal clarinet.

Last week (in "An orchestra principal's most visible job is playing orchestral solos written for his/her instrument. He-e-re's Stanley D.!") we made it all the way down from No. 10 (the end of "Pines of the Janiculum" from Respighi's Pines of Rome) to No. 8 (the opening of the Andante of the Brahms Third Symphony) -- oh, right, passing through No. 9 (from the "Andante cantabile non troppo" section of Tchaikovsky's Francesca da Rimini).

So here I was thinking that with two good pushes we could get through the whole list, even allowing ample excursion time to look in a larger way at the music represented, which, as I tried to explain, is one effect pondering Stanley D.'s enormous career has had on me. I mean, to have been that immersed in music -- mostly not of his own choosing -- all those decades while maintaining an insistence on bringing to each performance first-performance freshness: How awesome is that?


WOULDN'T YOU KNOW? RIGHT AWAY AT NO. 7 I GOT STUCK

Preview: In "I Pagliacci," is it so surprising that Nedda would choose the mysterious Silvio over her husband?

Tonight we hear a chunk of the 1934 recording of Leoncavallo's I Pagliacci built around the great tenor Beniamino Gigli.

by Ken

In last week's Pagliacci post, we left Nedda in a state, after fending off the unwelcome advances of her troupemate, the hunchback clown Tonio. As unpleasant as that surprise was, she's now in for a pleasant one: the unexpected arrival -- scaling a wall! -- of a gentleman she immediately identifies as "Silvio."

WE ALREADY KNEW THAT NEDDA HAS A SECRET

When we took our close look at the monologue Nedda sings after her husband and Beppe go off to have a drink with the hospitable villagers ("Pagliacci and the woman who understood the birds' song"), in which we learned that Nedda has a secret. Here's the start of the recitative again.

LEONCAVALLO: I Pagliacci: Recitative, Nedda, "Qual fiamma avea nel guardo!"

How his eyes did blaze! I turned mine
away for fear he should read
my secret thought!
Oh, if he should catch me,
brutal as he is! But enough,
these are frightening nightmares and silly fancies!

Claudia Muzio (s). Edison, recorded Jan. 21, 1921

Gabriella Tucci (s), Nedda; Orchestra of the Accademia di Santa Cecilia, Francesco Molinari-Pradelli, cond. Decca, recorded 1958

WE'VE ALREADY HAD A TANTALIZING TASTE OF SILVIO

"The (Hi)story of the Chévalier des Grieux and of Manon"

MASSENET: Manon: Prelude to Act II

New Phliharmonia Orchestra, Julius Rudel, cond. ABC-EMI-DG, recorded July 1970

by Ken

This isn't an excerpt you're apt to hear often outside the context of the opera (it's not meant to stand alone, of course), but I've plunked it in here, not just because it's such a lovely two minutes' worth of music, but because it directly follows the chunk of duet we heard between Manon and the Chévalier des Grieux in Friday night's preview, when they declared so joyfully that they would live in Paris, tous les deux, tous les deux. Because as Act II begins, they are indeed living in Paris, tous les deux, and for this while at least, they're blissfully happy.

Without worrying about dramatic context for a moment, let's jump to later in the act, near the end, in fact, and hear des Grieux share with Manon a dream he's had -- one of the most celebrated and beautiful specimens of the lyric-tenor repertory, often known simply as "The Dream." (Not to worry, in the click-through we're going to hear it in proper dramatic context.)

Manon: Act II, Recitative and aria, des Grieux, "Instant charmant, où la crainte fait trêve" ("Enchanting moment, where fear is dispelled") . . . "En fermant les yeux ("On closing my eyes")

DES GRIEUX: Enchanting moment, where fear is dispelled,
where we are just the two of us.
Listen, Manon, while walking
I just had a dream.

On closing my eyes, I see
in the distance a humble retreat,
a little house,
all white, in the depths of the woods.
In its tranquil shadows
clear and joyous streams,
in which leaves are reflected,
sing with the birds.
It's Paradise. Oh, no!
Everything there is sad and morose,
for there's one thing lacking there.
Still needed there is Manon!
Our life will be there,
if you wish it, o Manon!

Jussi Bjoerling, tenor; orchestra, Donald Voorhees, cond. NBC Radio concert, Jan. 8, 1951

Léopold Simoneau, tenor; Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra, Paul Strauss, cond. DG, recorded 1953

[in Italian] Beniamino Gigli, tenor; orchestra, John Barbirolli, cond. Live performance, London, June 26, 1931

In good time the story of Manon and des Grieux (as told originally by the ex-Benedictine Abbé Prévost in his 1731 novel L'Histoire du Chévalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut, bearing in mind that the French histoire conveniently means both "story" and "history") will turn not just wrong but horribly, disastrously wrong. For this week, though, I want to focus on what's right about the relationship, from the standpoints of both participants, as I'll explain in a moment.


BACK IN ACT I, ENTER MANON