Mahler   Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen

Lorraine Hunt

Conductor     Esa-Pekka Salonen
Los Angeles Philharmonic

Tonight was the first time I've heard Lorraine Hunt live, and I think her
first major appearance in London. The hall was surpringly empty, perhaps
because the concert was broadcast live on television.

Hunt certainly has a stunning presence and the ability to be what she is
singing. I don't think comparisons with Callas are totally absurd (and she
doesn't wobble). In the opening bars of the Lieder, played with infinite
delicacy by the Los Angeles Philharmonic, she changed from a cheerful,
elegant performer to a pensive abandoned lover in pain, and followed
through every mood and nuance of the text and music with her expression. In
the bird sounds and spring images, she got perfectly the double perspective
of the singer reflecting the joy of nature through his own scarcely
responsive misery. And, supported by some superb playing, she ended in a
mood of desperately controlled melancholy that keep the audience suspended
for quite a few seconds afterwards.

But I couldn't help thinking of James Jorden's comments last year about her
singing in Xerxes sounding like music theatre. In recordings, she sounds
rich, sometimes contraltoid. In the hall, her top notes sounded thin and
not totally supported, and her low notes, especially Welt und Traum at the
end, sounded like mostly resonance. (Definitely not where her brain should
be, I should add.) At times there was something not quite secure about the
sound she made, though it never detracted from the performance or from her
ability to deliver the music. It wasn't a problem with volume -- I felt
that she could probably produce an Ethel Merman belt at the drop of a hat.

What was slightly distracting was her German. She didn't use the German "a"
sound -- Tag came out exactly as in English. This was screamingly obvious
by the end of the first line, highlighted by the internal semi-rhyme (Wenn
mein Schatz Hochzeit macht), and I stopped looking at the words in the
programme to avoid seeing it coming. A fair number of consonants went the
way of Joan Sutherland's as well.

Of course, the Albert Hall isn't the ideal place to hear any singer, except
maybe John Tomlinson, and some of what I heard could simply be her lack of
experience in dealing with this sort of space. There's a special extra
technique involved in projecting throughout the hall. (Legend relates
Gwyneth Jones' ability to float a pianissimo to the gallery, even on a
not-good night.) And I was standing right behind the fountain, where the
echo hits. I certainly hope we get her in an opera very soon. How about a
proper Alcina or Les Arts Florissants bringing Hippolyte to London?

It was great to hear and see Hunt (in spite of my reservations), but the
high point of the evening turned out the be the first piece, John Adams'
Slominsky's Earbox. This is an exuberant play around with Nicolas
Slominsky's textbook of scales, a treasure chest for the ears, with a nod
at his lexicon of musical invective, the other kind of earbox. The
orchestra, essentially playing scales with various interventions and
decorations, boxes the compass of tonalities, with cheerful nods at the
works and composers slagged off in the lexicon, and plenty of playful
gestures and jokes. The whole thing is entertaining as well as fascinating,
especially in this splendid performance. Adams has really got to grips with
the simple pleasures of music. He took two very quick, benign bows,
presumably hurried along by the broadcast schedule.

The final piece was Sibelius' Lemmikainen Legends, programmatic and
elaborately coloured where Adams was abstract and simple, but also highly
enjoyable. It was a shame, though, not to end with Adams and send us away
cheering. But programmers never put a contemporary piece last, because they
know that half the audience will skip out before it starts.