Showing posts with label Leon Botstein. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Leon Botstein. Show all posts

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Renée Fleming in Conversation with Leon Botstein and André Previn

Last night was the finale of Renée Fleming's Perspectives series at Carnegie Hall called "Vienna: Window to Modernity," a thoughtful tribute to the time and place where the European musical tradition, under the influence of literary and visual arts, gave way to the 20th century. Here, Ms. Fleming, composer and conductor André Previn, and conductor and music historian Leon Botstein discuss how several of the major Viennese composers of the period—Korngold, Schoenberg, and Zeisl—spent a lot of time in Los Angeles and how their experiences there differed widely. More information about Renée Fleming's Perspectives at Carnegie Hall is available: http://www.carnegiehall.org/fleming/ and http://www.carnegiehall.org/Calendar/2013/5/4/0730/PM/Vienna-Window-to-Modernity/. Watch the video clip, along with two previous others, after the jump.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Bard College Presents Strauss's "Die Liebe Der Danae"

Danae searching for a sugar daddy with a Midas touch. (Photo: Todd Norwood) 
"In the Bard production, smoothly directed by Kevin Newbury, Pollux is a corporate mogul who tries to hide under his boardroom table from his creditors. Jupiter's ship arrives in New York Harbor, the Statue of Liberty faintly discernible in the background. Danae's picture is plastered on billboards advertising a brand of perfume called AU (the chemical symbol for gold). And she and Midas end up not in a hut in the Syrian desert but living in their car in the American West. [Leon] Botstein assembled a talented cast of singers who did valiant battle with Strauss' treacherous vocal writing. Meagan Miller, a soprano with a bright sound and impressive power, was Danae. She was able to scale the highest reaches of the role (including a final C-sharp), though sometimes her tone took on a hard, metallic sound. When not pushing for volume, she floated lovely soft high notes, even if once or twice she had trouble sustaining them. As Midas, tenor Roger Honeywell sang his high-flying phrases ardently, though he seemed to be pressing his modest voice to its limits. Baritone Carsten Wittmoser's voice isn't really big enough for the stentorian demands Strauss places on Jupiter, but to his credit he never let his tone turn coarse." [Source]

One more promotional photo by Todd Norwood after the jump.