So I just had rather a odd week in Glasgow while the OH went off to Devon, but it was nicely book-ended with a couple of Scottish Opera events. We always think we'll never get to winter SO events, and I am personally convinced that we never leave the islands between 1st December and 31st March but the Facebook memories app tells me I'm quite wrong about that! In fact we seem to be away for the second weekend in December more often that not!
Anyway, we went down a day earlier than needed for the OH's trip to Devon so that we could go to the SO concert performance of Prokofiev's The Fiery Angel. This almost always has the epithet 'rarely performed' attached to it and I always think that when things are rarely performed it's for a pretty good reason, and the reason is usually that it's not very good and no-one wants to see it. Not necessarily the case with The Fiery Angel though, possibly it just takes too much resource to get into production.
Pluses first. The music was wonderful We had expected some long dissonant modern score but it was hugely accessible and even melodic most of the time. The concert came as a joint production between SO, the Scottish Conservatoire plus a few soloists brought in especially. The soloists were generally very good indeed. The Inquisitor was below par, but happily it's a short role. The soprano who sang the lead role of Renata, the deeply troubled girl who sees visions of a fiery angel , was superb. I'm not qualified to comment on orchestral playing but it sounded fine to me - occasionally a bit too loud for the singers but that possibly had something to do with the venue.
Having said pluses first, that rather implies that there are minuses, but they're nitpicks really. A staged performance is just that but there's usually a bit of a nod to character in the way of costume. To this end I could see the thought behind putting the Doctor in turquoise scrubs but it was just a modern colourful touch too far, The girl who was singing the role of the medieval German Innkeeper was wearing 6 inch stilettos and a black frock that clung closely everywhere it touched - which was everywhere, except for the flame hem. It was a beautiful dress, and would that I had the figure for it; but as a nod to the dress habits of C15 women running a pub by the Rhine it left a bit to be desired. Then there's the 'plot', if it can be termed such. The libretto, also by Prokofiev, is based on an obscure book by an obscure Russian author; it is apparently a parody of Russian symbolism. Like the poetry of modernism, I suspect that Russian symbolism is easy to parody badly and very difficult to parody well. This does not strike me a particularly good parody, it's farcical. But, powerful and moving as well, in operatic form.
On my second to last day, when the OH was safely returned from Devon, we had the pleasure of attending a recital given by the new cohort of Scottish Opera's Emerging Artists. This was a very enjoyable event with some splendid singing and much to my surprise I finally heard a song by Poulenc that I enjoyed. I have learned, over the years, and by dint of putting in a lot of effort, a certain appreciation of the 'art song' although those by French composers are generally still a closed book to me. After the recital, as supporters of the program, we were invited to lunch at the Theatre Royal to meet the young singers which was, as always, a pleasure and a privilege. They do anther recital in January and we're planning to go again, although in deference to the prospect of bad weather we'll probably fly down for that one. Looking forward to it anyway.
Sounds like an interesting time!
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