Inaugural Edition, no. 6: Fornow, no explanations, just music (that's the theory, anyways): Two operatic chunks, by Debussy and Verdi, that have lodged in my head

Plus, we're going to wind up (think of it as a "bonus"
of sorts) with yet another stupendous operatic scene

[TUESDAY EVENING NOTE: Since initial posting, this piece has undergone variously significant updating scattered all through it, with possibly more to come -- if I get up the courage to wade into the thing.]

You'd think it'd be a snap to find a shot (no pun intended) of the Prison Scene from Don Carlos. Hah! In the spirit of last week's makeshift "Mélisande tower" (which I'm embarrassed to report we're going to be seeing again), I've wound up making do with, you know, "a prison."

VERDI: Don Carlos: Act IV [or III], Scene 2, Death of the Marquis of Posa ("Che parli tu di morte?" . . . "O Carlo, ascolta" . . . "Io morrò, ma lieto in core")

Recitative, "Che parli tu di morte?" -- and surprise!
DON CARLOS [trembling]: Why do you talk of death?
RODRIGO: Listen! Time grows short.
I have turned back onto me the terrible thunderbolt.
Today it's no longer you who are the rival of the king.
The bold agitator for Flanders -- it's I!
DON CARLOS: Who could possibly believe that?
RODRIGO: The proofs are tremendous!
Your papers, found in my possession,
are clear testaments to rebellion,
and on this head for certain
a price has already been set!
[Two men are now seen descending the prison staircase: One of them is dressed in the garb of the Holy Office; the other is armed with an arquebus. They stop for a moment and point out to one another DON CARLOS and RODRIGO, by whom they are unseen.]
DON CARLOS: I will reveal everything to the King!
RODRIGO: No, save yourself for Flanders!
save yourself for the great work that you will have to accomplish.
A new golden age you will cause to be reborn;
you were meant to reign, and I to die for you!
[The bearer of the arquebus now takes aim at RODRIGO and fires.]
DON CARLOS [stupefied]: Heavens! Death! but for whom?
RODRIGO [mortally wounded]: For me!
The vengeance of the king couldn't be delayed!
[Falls into the arms of DON CARLOS]
DON CARLOS: Great God!
Recitative, "O Carlo, ascolta"
RODRIGO: Oh Carlos, listen! Your mother, at San Yust,
tomorrow will expect you -- she knows everything.
Ah! the ground gives way beneath me --
my Carlos, give me your hand --
Aria, "Io morrò, ma lieto in core"
I die, but light of heart,
since I have thus been able to preserve
for Spain a savior.
Ah! do not forget me!
Do not forget me!
You were meant to rule,
and I to die for you!
Ah! I die, but light of heart,
since I have thus been able to preserve
for Spain a savior.
Ah! do not forget me!
Ah! the ground gives way beneath me!
Ah! do not forget me!
Give me your hand . . . give me . . .
Carlos, farewell! Ah! ah!
[RODRIGO dies. CARLOS falls, in despair, on his body.]

["O Carlo, ascolta" at 1:37; "Io morrò" at 2:39] Robert Merrill (b), Marquis of Posa; with Jussi Bjoerling (t), Don Carlos; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Fritz Stiedry, cond. Live performance, Nov. 11, 1950

["O Carlo, ascolta" at 1:29; "Io morrò" at 2:31] Robert Merrill (b), Marquis of Posa; with Giulio Gari (t), Don Carlos; Metropolitan Opera Orchestra, Fausto Cleva, cond. Live performance, Apr. 4, 1959

by Ken

I mean it: no talking. Or hardly any. Otherwise we'll never get anywhere. (If you read on, you may wonder at the application of this theory. You would be entirely within your rights. No refunds will be available, however. Meanwhile, I'm thinking that if I just go ahead and post this "as is," it'll be sufficiently embarrassing to force me to go back and at least fill in the more obvious gaps. I'm not confident that much can be done with the stuff between the gaps.)

Some other time I can explain how these particular scenes took up lodging in my brain. One of them, as I trust you've noticed, is the Prison Scene from Verdi's Don Carlos (the first scene of Act IV in the original five-act version; of Act III in the truncated four-act one), which I've heard pared down here to just the actual death of Rodrigo, the Marquis of Posa. We're going to be hearing a bunch more times in more proper context: with what precedes it in this scene . . . .


THAT IS, RIGHT AFTER WE HEAR OUR OTHER SCENE,
THE ONE WE BEGAN LISTENING TO LAST WEEK . . .

Inaugural Edition, no. 5: Post tease: Has any operatic act begun more beautifully? (Not to mention suggestively?)

"My long hair descends all the way to the door of the tower"

Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, Pierre Boulez, cond. CBS-Sony, recorded 1970

Orchestre de la Suisse Romande, Ernest Ansermet, cond. Decca, recorded in Geneva's Grand Théâtre, August 1964

by Ken

I can't think of one. And my goodness, doesn't this mere minute's worth of music make you crazy to know what comes next? We're going to find out in today's main post, after we take care of business.

"Ah! I breathe at last!"

George Shirley, tenor; Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, Pierre Boulez, cond. CBS-Sony, recorded 1970

Or, if we allow it some of its proper build-up --

"Ah! I breathe at last!"

Camille Maurane, baritone; Orchestre de la Suisse Romande, Ernest Ansermet, cond. Decca, recorded in Geneva's Grand Théâtre, August 1964


ON FURTHER CONSIDERATION, I GUESS WE COULD
SLIP JUST A TAD FARTHER INTO OUR MYSTERY SCENE

Sunday Classics holiday edition: It's "The Nutcracker" -- the whole deal! (One more time!)

With the "Nutcracker Suite" sequence of Disney's Fantasia now unavailable, I thought to kick off we'd just look at this little teaser from Helgi Tómasson's San Francisco Ballet staging.

by Ken

[To repeat, this is a second "encore presentation" of 2011's complete-Nutcracker post (the first since since all the way back in 2012!), which I thought came out pretty darned well. As I wrote in 2012, you probably think it's a huge labor-saver just running a post "rerun," and perhaps I thought so too, but it didn't work out that way.]

The plan is pretty simple. As promised in last night's preview, when we heard two quite differently terrific performances of Tchaikovksy's own Nutcracker Suite, today we're going to hear the complete ballet, and chunks of it -- solely at my discretion -- twice!

Pretty much the last thing I added to what you'll see in the click-through is the plot synopsis (filched from Wikipedia). I went back and forth a lot about this, because I really don't pay much attention to plots, or even programs, when I listen to music written for the dance. I'm not a dance person to begin with, and I guess my listening orientation is to allow the music to plug its own built-in "program" into my imagination. Still, in the end it seemed to me that this curious format (for want of a better word) we've got going here at Sunday Classics is actually an extremely good way to hook up the plot and the music.

I'll have some quick (I hope) notes about the specifics when we get to the click-through, so let me just throw out two points about The Nutcracker:

(1) Tchaikovsky really didn't want to write the damned thing. So no, it was about as far from a "labor of love" as you can get.

(2) It was written to share a double bill with one of the composer's less-performed operas, Yolanta, which is the part of the bill that really interested and moved him. It has, in fact, nothing (that I can see or hear) in common with its birth billmate, and it strikes me as an incredibly difficult piece to really bring to life, but as with many difficult, fragile creations, its specialness holds special rewards. It deals, first, with the desperate desire of a very powerful man -- a king, in fact -- to shield a loved one, in this case his only daughter, from pain, in her case the knowledge that she's blind. But in the larger sense it deals with the futility of trying to protect someone from something it's impossible to "protect" her from, like reality. Someday we should undoubtedly talk about Yolanta. (But it's difficult.)


MOVING ON TO OUR COMPLETE NUTCRACKER

It's "The Nutcracker" -- the whole deal! (again -- our last annual encore presentation)

With the "Nutcracker Suite" sequence of Disney's Fantasia now unavailable, I thought to kick off we'd just look at this little teaser from Helgi Tómasson's San Francisco Ballet staging.

by Ken

[To repeat, this is an "encore presentation" of last year's encore presentation of 2011's complete-Nutcracker post, which I thought came out pretty darned well. You probably think it's a huge labor-saver just running a post "rerun." Perhaps I thought so too, but it never works out that way.]

The plan is pretty simple. As promised in Friday night's preview, when we heard (once again) two quite differently terrific performances of Tchaikovksy's own Nutcracker Suite, today we're going to hear the complete ballet, and chunks of it -- solely at my discretion -- twice!

Pretty much the last thing I added to what you'll see in the click-through is the plot synopsis (filched from Wikipedia). I went back and forth a lot about this, because I really don't pay much attention to plots, or even programs, when I listen to music written for the dance. I'm not a dance person to begin with, and I guess my listening orientation is to allow the music to plug its own built-in "program" into my imagination. Still, in the end it seemed to me that this curious format (for want of a better word) we've got going here at Sunday Classics is actually an extremely good way to hook up the plot and the music.

I'll have some quick (I hope) notes about the specifics when we get to the click-through, so let me just throw out two points about The Nutcracker:

(1) Tchaikovsky really didn't want to write the damned thing. So no, it was about as far from a "labor of love" as you can get.

(2) It was written to share a double bill with one of the composer's less-performed operas, Yolanta, which is the part of the bill that really interested and moved him. It has, in fact, nothing (that I can see or hear) in common with its birth billmate, and it strikes me as an incredibly difficult piece to really bring to life, but as with many difficult, fragile creations, its specialness holds special rewards. It deals, first, with the desperate desire of a very powerful man -- a king, in fact -- to shield a loved one, in this case his only daughter, from pain, in her case the knowledge that she's blind. But in the larger sense it deals with the futility of trying to protect someone from something it's impossible to "protect" her from, like reality. Someday we should undoubtedly talk about Yolanta. (But it's difficult.)


MOVING ON TO OUR COMPLETE NUTCRACKER

It's "The Nutcracker" -- the whole deal! (Again!)

With the "Nutcracker Suite" sequence of Disney's Fantasia now unavailable, I thought to kick off we'd just look at this little teaser from Helgi Tómasson's San Francisco Ballet staging.

by Ken

[To repeat, this is an "encore presentation" of last year's complete-Nutcracker post, which I thought came out pretty darned well. You probably think it's a huge labor-saver just running a post "rerun." Perhaps I thought so too, but it never works out that way.]

The plan is pretty simple. As promised in Friday night's preview, when we heard two quite differently terrific performances of Tchaikovksy's own Nutcracker Suite, today we're going to hear the complete ballet, and chunks of it -- solely at my discretion -- twice!

Pretty much the last thing I added to what you'll see in the click-through is the plot synopsis (filched from Wikipedia). I went back and forth a lot about this, because I really don't pay much attention to plots, or even programs, when I listen to music written for the dance. I'm not a dance person to begin with, and I guess my listening orientation is to allow the music to plug its own built-in "program" into my imagination. Still, in the end it seemed to me that this curious format (for want of a better word) we've got going here at Sunday Classics is actually an extremely good way to hook up the plot and the music.

I'll have some quick (I hope) notes about the specifics when we get to the click-through, so let me just throw out two points about The Nutcracker:

(1) Tchaikovsky really didn't want to write the damned thing. So no, it was about as far from a "labor of love" as you can get.

(2) It was written to share a double bill with one of the composer's less-performed operas, Yolanta, which is the part of the bill that really interested and moved him. It has, in fact, nothing (that I can see or hear) in common with its birth billmate, and it strikes me as an incredibly difficult piece to really bring to life, but as with many difficult, fragile creations, its specialness holds special rewards. It deals, first, with the desperate desire of a very powerful man -- a king, in fact -- to shield a loved one, in this case his only daughter, from pain, in her case the knowledge that she's blind. But in the larger sense it deals with the futility of trying to protect someone from something it's impossible to "protect" her from, like reality. Someday we should undoubtedly talk about Yolanta. (But it's difficult.)


MOVING ON TO OUR COMPLETE NUTCRACKER