Bandallamas played a benefit for Veterans for Peace on this Friday night. A large crowd assembled early to catch this supergroup comprised of Chris Aaron and Bobby Bryan on guitars, Aaron’s wife Lisa Bethke, daughter Abigail Aaron and mother Annalee Scully on backup vocals, Wally Ingram on drums, Pauli Ryan and Victor Delorenzo on percussion, Jimmy Voegeli on keys and Rob Wasserman and Richard Davis on bass. And these are just the core members of the group. (Read our feature story here)

The evening started off with Aaron’s mother Annalee Scully playing a couple of acoustic songs, the first of which I believe was entitled “We Were in the War,” a song to commemorate Veteran’s Day. Scully has a powerful and emotive voice; I’d compare it to an alto version of Joan Baez. The song was quite moving and brought the crowd to nearly a hush. She followed that up with an equally appropriate “Study War no More.”

Next up was the Chris Aaron Band who played a short set. Aaron’s wife Lisa Bethke sang center stage; another soulful and powerful vocalist with excellent command of her voice. Aaron’s guitar tone is exquisite, especially the tone of his cigar box Rose slide guitar. Drummer Jeff Cohen and bassist Steve Smith rounded out the group. This was a tight rhythm section, fluid and in the pocket. Aaron brought out his teenage daughter Abigail to join in on “There Are Times That We All Stand Up,” another fitting tribute to the Veteran’s Day proceedings.

Next Jim Schwall was brought out with Tony Menzer on bass, Clyde Stubblefield on drums and Jimmy Voegeli on keys. They played four songs, bursting out with Schwall’s “You Don’t Love Me Like That” featuring a smoking keyboard solo from Voegeli. It was a treat to hear Aaron and Schwall trading licks from the center of the stage. Schwall looked absolutely overjoyed throughout the evening. Playing with his own ingenious and firey style, Schwall is an excellent guitarist in his own right. The rhythm section just couldn’t get much more fun to watch with Stubblefield and Menzer, two consummate professionals.

A short intermission followed and then the Bandallamas took the stage opening a rousing rendition of “Steel Yourself” from the Eye to Eye album (read the review here). Bobby Bryan was front and center for the entire Bandallamas set and frequently set the house on fire with his lightning-fast soloing. Davis took a bass solo and the crowd erupted for him. To see Davis and Wasserman onstage together, along with the superb Wally Ingram on drums was an experience to remember. Throw in the Violent Femme’s Victor Delorenzo and the inimitable Pauli Ryan on percussion and this became a rhythm section for the ages. Bryan was welcomed back to Madison with a hearty response and he joked after the first song that he “misses us like a motherfucker.”

Throughout the Bandallamas set Bryan and Aaron traded guitar solos that were inspired and tastefully articulated. Standout performances were many but “Eye to Eye” really stood out as the dramatic piece of music, departing from a strict blues performance. Here the ever-stoic Wasserman blew my mind with a standup bass solo while Bryan turned in one of his more excellent guitar solos. Davis soloed again on “Sylvie,” the band’s fourth song of the set, before checking his watch and making a hasty departure. “Don’t Look Down” was definitely another highlight, Aaron seated at his lap steel guitar. Bryan was absolutely on fire for this one and the band built to an excellent climax. “I Love You” was another highlight, featuring the rhythm section and another enjoyable solo from Wasserman. The plan played an extended jam at the end.

After another short intermission Schwall returned to join the band for three more songs. There was a lot more jamming after the intermission and Voegeli was given the spotlight too for one of his songs. They finished with a rousing cover of “Satisfaction” and encored with another blues tune that gave Bryan one more opportunity to show his chops (and also make some comical faces).

The mix was excellent throughout the evening. The drums cut through like a knife and the low end was strong and clean. Vocals easily rode over the top, no small feat for such a large assemblage of players.

“Wait Till Next Year…” Bach Dancing and Dynamite Closes 20^th Season

By Greg Hettmansberger

Any of the regulars, and certainly the co-founders, Stephanie Jutt and Jeffrey Sykes, must count the days each year as June approaches. After experiencing five of the six programs of this 20^th season of Bach Dancing and Dynamite Society, the overriding impression is a potent mixture of day-camp camaraderie in the midst of that palpable joy that occurs when great artistry is created live.

Returning to the Stoughton Opera House Friday night, the group’s namesake led off the proceedings with the Trio Sonata in G Major, BWV 1039. The focus was on Jutt’s flute and the violin playing of Axel Strauss, and on two occasions there was a seamless, magical transition between the two in passing a long phrase one to the other.  Once again, this was a modern instrument reading, with Randall Hodgkinson adding a discreet piano accompaniment, gently underlined by the cello of Jean-Michel Fonteneau.

The next work proved to be the highlight of a stellar night: the Trio (1914) of Maurice Ravel, featuring the San Francisco Piano Trio of Strauss, Fonteneau and Sykes. It is one thing to hear great individual musicians come together in a festival setting, but even such artists who do play a good deal of chamber music are no match for an ensemble that has been together for years. This is particularly true in a work such as the Ravel, which is full of virtual orchestral color and nearly as many moods. Strauss added to the impression that he made in the Bach, that he produces a tone not so much louder than one would expect, but it has a kind of three-dimensional glow that seems to pull one’s ears to it. Fonteneau was the very picture of the consummately controlled master, calmly negotiating every technical challenge, and eliciting a compelling richness from his cello. Sykes made one forget that the piano is, by nature, a percussion instrument.

The second half was lighter but no less beautiful: Paul Dukas’ (“The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” guy) arrangement for piano, four-hands of Saint-Saens’ “Bacchanale” from the opera “Samson et Dalila.” The next piece was a rarer gem, the Trio of the 18-year old Claude Debussy, originally for violin, cello and piano, but here in an arrangement with Jutt on flute taking the violin part. Frankly it is hard to imagine the original with violin being able to hold a candle to this version. The evening concluded with two arrangements of the modern tango-master, Astor Piazzolla: the “Grand Tango,” originally written for cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, but here in piano trio form, and the “Fuga e misterio,” an arrangement from an operetta, that re-united all five of the evening’s stars.

Saturday night at the Playhouse in the Overture Center was accompanied by that potent mixture of high anticipation to hear the program unfold — and great reluctance to see the festival conclude. The opening work was the delightful “Three Bagatelles” of Paul Schoenfield, whose Piano Quintet will be given its world premiere this November as part of the Pro Arte Quartet centennial season.  The Bagatelles are of course slighter in nature, but the opening “Cloying” seemed a self-deprecating title, as the sounds from Jutt, Fonteneau and Hodgkinson were thoroughly inviting and imbued with a quite natural sweetness.

The six “Souvenirs” of Samuel Barber for piano, four-hands was a major treat: a camera directly above the keyboard allowed the audience to watch the fascinating technical challenges navigated by the hands of Sykes and Hodgkinson projected on a large screen. The 1952 dance-inspired movements (everything from a Waltz to a Two-Step, Hesitation-Tango and Galop) still possess a genuine freshness after more than half a century, and the “Two-Step” added the visual element of something akin to watching a Wimbledon tennis match times ten.

The second half needed only one performer, Axel Strauss essaying the mini-epic “Chaconne,” the great closing movement from the Bach “Partita in D minor.” “Mini” because it lasts less than a quarter-hour, “epic” because in those scant minutes, Bach gives us a world of expression (and technical challenges that still daunt the unproven player).

Strauss reminded us in a single, unaccompanied work why Western music essentially begins with, and in so many ways since, is centered in Bach. As for his playing, well, there are a couple of moments in the Chaconne when it feels as though it might be over; then Strauss continues and the heart leapt with “Oh yes!— there’s more!”

The San Francisco Piano Trio reunited for the work of a man who, perhaps more than other musician of the late 19^th-century, understood and fully appreciated Bach: Johannes Brahms. His Piano Trio No. 1, Op. 8 has both the passion of youth and the finely honed touch of the elderly master, as the composer almost completely reworked the early masterpiece at the end of his life. Strauss, Fontenot and Sykes wrung every ounce of beauty and perfection out of it, and we were left wanting more.

So I noticed the poster in the foyer that mentioned “Bach Dancing and Dynamite Society, June 15-July 1, 2012. Hmm…only 353 more days…but why does 2012 have to be a leap year?! See you there…

Clear “Visions” from Bach Dancing and Dynamite Society

By Greg Hettmansberger

There may have been some in the Overture Center Playhouse Saturday night who came to the fourth program of the Bach Dancing and Dynamite Society primarily for the second half, the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5 of the group’s namesake. But knowing that BDDS has grown their faithful and enthusiastic audience over the last twenty years with a combination of superior artistry and challenging programs, many of them were undoubtedly there to experience a deeply mystical vision delivered with some expert clarity.

The mysticism came courtesy of the pen of Olivier Messiaen, in his epic two-piano work, “Visions de l’amen.” The clarity emerged from the hands of pianists Christopher Taylor, and Society co-founder Jeffrey Sykes.

The 1943 work, seven movements that sprawl over nearly fifty minutes, draws principally upon the composer’s devotion to Catholicism — more famously expressed in the 1940 masterpiece “Quartet for the End of Time,” composed in the Nazis Stalag VIII-A. Sykes’ prefatory remarks were, as usual, most insightful, giving a clear sense of the over-arching scope of the work, from the Creation itself to the ultimate reuniting in eternal bliss.

But an even more salient touch was the addition of longtime actor/singer/teacher/radio personality Linda Clauder, who read before each movement. Some of the remarks came directly from Messiaen, but most were from the Bible, from the opening book of Genesis to the closing The Revelation of John, with other passages from The Song of Solomon and The Gospel According to Matthew.

Messiaen composed a virtual encyclopedia of pianistic color, and Taylor and Sykes seemed to work from a limitless palette. Whether in the gradually unfolding “Amen of Creation,” the pain of “Amen of the Agony of Jesus” and “Amen of Judgment,” or the celestial bells of the closing “Amen of Consummation,” the two men complimented and meshed their considerable gifts. In the penultimate “Amen of Judgment,” Taylor seemed to prowl up and down the keyboard, pouncing upon piercing chords.

I had had only a passing acquaintance with the work until Saturday night; a CD of it ended up in my car a year or so ago, and my overwhelming impression was that this was music that demands focused, concentrated listening. Really, the concert hall is the only place to truly experience such a work as “Visions de l’amen,” and perhaps only BDDS could find a way to program it and still sell tickets.

It was cheering to see the modern Steinway in place for the Brandenburg Concerto No. 5, and Taylor seated before it once again, with flutist Stephanie Jutt and violinist Erin Keefe the other soloists. They were tastefully accompanied by violinists Suzanne Beia and William Polk, violist Kerri Ryan and cellist Parry Karp. I’m sure it had much to do with the location of my seat, but Jutt was uncharacteristically overshadowed in the opening movement by Taylor and Keefe. The ensuing “Affetuoso,” with only the three soloists employed, restored matters of balance, and the finale also emerged democratically.

But the main matters — virtuosity made easy, musical conviviality displayed in all naturalness —  carried the performance throughout. The transition following intermission was another “channeling,” this time of J.S. Bach himself, via the irresistible talents of Karlos Moser. These added little flourishes of BDDS fall into the category of: you had to be there. We’ve all got one more weekend to soak it all up…see you there.

Photo courtesy of James Gill / Madison Opera

Friday night at the Overture Center, Madison Opera reaffirmed that, as it closes it’s first half-century, it can mount an operatic staple and deliver the goods from top to bottom.

The “top” came in the person of soprano Elizabeth Caballero as Violetta, the courtesan who finds true love, only to, in true operatic fashion, lose it and regain it only to lose her life — all the while singing gloriously. The glamorous coquette was clearly winning the audience’s hearts by the middle of Act I, when an aria that ended with a preciously soft high note swelled and glowed and sank back into a sweet nothing, elicited the first “bravas” of the night.

The Parisian soirees and countryside setting of Act II, and the semi-sepulchral despair of Act III were courtesy of the Lyric Opera of Chicago, and the entire production team of director Garnett Bruce, set and costume designer Desmond Heeley, and lighting designer Christine A. Binder were all making their Madison Opera debuts.

Bruce proved most persuasive in the big party scenes, where the busyness of the chorus of socialites was entertaining enough without overshadowing the principals. If their were moments of momentum loss in the Act 2 confrontations between Violetta and her new lover’s father, Germont (and later between Germont, father and son), the fault lies more with Verdi. La Traviata gave evidence that the forty-year old composer was on the verge of immortality, but hadn’t quite mastered the inevitable dramatic flow that would mark his later masterpieces.

Jan Ross deserves mention as wig and make-up designer, for the Act 3 Violetta looks (but not sounds of course!) as though she is on death’s doorstep. Great teamwork from Ross and Heeley (and a nod to the risk Caballero took in looking so un-glamorous) resulted in about as realistic a denouement as one can encounter in this context.

As for the other singers, Giuseppe Varano also made his local debut as Alfredo, and possesses a strong but flexible tenor that was a good match for the powerful Caballero. Donnie Ray Albert as his father, Germont, Jamie Van Eyck as Flora, and Paul Rowe as Baron Douphol generally fell into the category of producing some memorable moments, without sustaining the level of intensity evident in the two principles.

A critical element was found to be in the good hands and small stick of conductor John DeMain, who was efficient in propelling the big scenes, and lovingly patient in the quiet moments, particularly the prelude to Act III. His orchestra was a constant delight, with one Act I stretch finding the woodwinds and Caballero producing the equivalent of chamber music, so intimate and entwined was the ensemble.

But in the end it was Caballero’s show (who recently made her Metropolitan Opera house debut), as this type of opera must be if it is to have a chance of succeeding. When the final curtain was raised to reveal her alone for the first bow, the house cascaded with cries of “brava,” and the nearly sold-out house came to its feet as one.           

And so Madison Opera’s 50^th season began when the Overture Center perils were a growing crescendo, and a triumphant Marriage of Figaro was followed by the news of General Director Allan Naplan’s departure for Minnesota Opera. But on the eve of La Traviata, Kathryn Smith was named to guide the company into its next half-century, and based on her credentials from the Metropolitan Opera and her track record in Tacoma, she seems an exciting choice. It is fitting that La Traviata emerged as a testament to Naplan’s work here: Madison Opera can be counted on to stage operatic staples and deliver a first-rate experience with rising stars and performances that stick in the ear. The encores are up to Ms. Smith.

Photo courtesy of James Gill / Madison Opera

Nixon in China: Mao Meets the Met

What a difference a generation makes: when John Adams’ Nixon in China premiered in 1987 at Houston Grand Opera, former President Nixon was still alive, director Peter Sellars was far more enfant terrible than theatrical icon — and the U.S. was nowhere near forever in China’s debt.

It has taken nearly a quarter century for the opera — which some time ago seemed clearly destined to attain reportorial status — to reach the hallowed stage of the Metropolitan Opera at Lincoln Center. It opened on February 2, but when the latest “Live from the Met in HD” telecast went out to hundreds of theaters Saturday, more people probably saw a single performance than had witnessed the opera in person since its premiere.

I know I was a grateful auditor at the Marcus Theatre Eastgate Cinema; having seen a homemade video of the 1988 PBS telecast, I never found myself in the right place at the right time to have a live encounter with some mythic figures of my own lifetime, as filtered through the couplet-structured libretto of Alice Goodman. Much has changed out of necessity, but what remained and what had changed was all for the better on balance.

Peter Sellars directed the stage performance and the telecast, and baritone James Maddalena, the original Nixon, was back in the title role. The sets were the same, albeit enlarged to take advantage of the sprawling Met stage, composer John Adams was conducting in the pit, Mark Morris was still on hand to choreograph the Act II ballet….and most of all, Adams’ more than minimalist music poured forth from the superb Met orchestra.

One of the first things to strike me was how much was added by the subtitles. Yes, of course the work is in English, but I immediately recalled how little I could make out from the people’s opening chorus in the PBS version. Goodman’s text is rich, clever, and as is often the case in opera, words get swallowed up in the music; subtitles fix that problem completely.

Maddalena revealed, particularly toward the end of the first act, that his instrument does not retain the strength in the high notes he once had, but for now it is still impossible to imagine anyone else as Nixon. Janis Kelly proved complex and moving as Pat Nixon, with a powerful and expressive voice. She is no newcomer to the role, having first sung it at the English National Opera in 2000. Russell Braun as Chou En-lai makes an immediate impression, but rises to an even higher level in the banquet scene that concludes the first act.

Before that comes the great scene in which the male protagonists all meet, with Mao attended by his three “Mao-ettes,” with Chou, Nixon and Kissinger all present. The uneasy shifting between anxious to please diplomacy and quasi-bewilderment over whether Mao is subtle or senile is captured equally in the music and the acting. The first intermission feature, with baritone Thomas Hampson a personable and accomplished host, provided a great bonus: an interview with Winston Lord, a special State Dept. envoy who was present at that meeting but left out of the official photos. He verified that the first part of the scene was practically verbatim, and that the opera really captured that strange dynamic that unfolded.

We don’t meet Madame Mao until Act II (the character name is Chiang Ch’ing), sung by Kathleen Kim. Her borderline megalomaniacal aria, “I Am the Wife of Mao Tse-Tung” was curdling, not just for its tessitura that includes three high Ds, but in its overall intensity. It is preceded by the ballet “The Red Detachment of Women,” in which the Nixons find themselves sucked into the action, and a Kissinger look-alike (Richard Paul Fink), is a surreal blend of Uncle Tom’s Cabin violence and en pointe classicism.

The final act is an overlapping blend of characters’ reminiscences and trying to place the events of that 1972 February week in a future context. The music is at its most lyrical, least minimalist, and the characterizations (save for Kissinger, who makes an early exit) at their most complex and multi-layered. It is opera that haunts the mind more than the inner ear, and is the likely source of a tug to go see it again.

And you have that chance, or can experience it for yourself if you missed it. Both Eastgate and Point Cinema will re-run the telecast on March 2 at 6:30 p.m. As with the performance of Boris Godunov that I saw in October, “Live from the Met in HD” is a fabulous experience at the cinema. If some purists carp that the best theater sound is no match for the live experience, well, theatergoers get those intermission features. In Saturday’s performance, Hampson’s interviews covered all six principal singers, Adams, Sellars, the set designer, Adrianne Lobel, the aforementioned Winston Lord and Mark Morris. And if politics and minimalist music isn’t your operatic cup of tea, then on February 26 you can catch Placido Domingo in Gluck’s Iphigenie en Tauride. I know it’s probably my last chance to see the 70-year old superstar tenor sing live from anywhere, especially the Met — and I only have to drive six miles. 

As the Oakwood Chamber Players resumed their twenty-eighth season Saturday night, their first offering of 2011 was a textbook example of the varied and imaginative programming that makes the group a very special local treasure. It was a night for strings, piano and flute, with repertoire that included composers famous and obscure, with even the famous tunesmiths represented by works too often neglected.

The first name on the program was thoroughly unfamiliar: Mel Bonis. Thanks to the spoken program notes of flutist Marilyn Chohaney, we learned that the real name was Melanie Bonis, and from 1858-1937 led a life that outperformed most soap operas for melodrama. A classmate of Debussy and a pupil of Franck, Bonis fortunately never abandoned her gift, ultimately leaving over three hundred compositions.

Bonis’ “Suite dans le style ancient” for flute, violin, viola and piano had a long gestation, the Prelude and Fugette being premiered in 1913, the Choral and Divertissement completing the work in 1928. The earlier movements were gently somber, then bouncy and breezy. After a beautifully blended Chorale, the finale didn’t have quite the sass of Bonis’ contemporaries such as Poulenc and Milhaud. But Chohaney and violinist Leyla Sanyer, violist Christopher Dozoryst and pianist Vincent Fuh gave it all a reading worthy of an overlooked masterpiece.

It is hard to imagine that a lullaby that swings could still be lulling, but a youthful Gershwin produced one in what was originally a student exercise in harmony and string quartet writing. Replete with effervescent harmonics and buoyed by dulcet pizzicatos, his “Lullaby” rarely fails to please and impress. On a first hearing one is apt to ask “That’s Gershwin?” But on subsequent hearings a more likely reaction is “That could only have been written by Gershwin.” I first fell under the work’s brief but potent spell over thirty years ago — and Saturday night was the first time I enjoyed it in live performance. Thanks to violinist Suzanne Beia and cellist Maggie Darby Townsend, who joined Sanyer and Dozoryst, for making it worth the wait.

It has not been that many years since I first heard the “Two Pieces” by Arthur Foote, but I was equally excited to discover the OCP had scheduled this work as well. “A Night Piece” and “Scherzo” were given in the original 1918 scoring for flute, violin, viola and cello (a 1923 version for flute and string orchestra is occasionally heard). Foote (1853-1937) belongs to that generation of American composers who taught when Charles Ives came up through the ranks, and Foote and his contemporaries have for too long been quickly dismissed as mere imitators of the late 19^th-century European Romantics.

It is not fair to say that Chohaney “led” the string trio of Beia, Dozoryst and Townsend, for while the flute certainly lends its distinctive timbre, the work’s strength lies in its unity of parts. Chohaney handled all of the “solo” work with elegance, but all four players deserve greater praise for the integration of the overall reading.

In the second half, OCP proved that sometimes it takes three to tango. The 2002 “Trio Tango,” Op. 71 by Miguel del Aguila might seem to owe something to the work of Astor Piazzolla who re-animated the form while paying homage to its roots. But Aguila does more here, producing a unique inner narrative, and even playing with a waltz idea along the way. Fuh, Beia and Townsend immersed themselves in the miniature drams, while never losing sight of the fact that a sly sense of humor was always just around the corner.

Fuh was the one who ultimately was put to the greatest technical tests of the night in Saint-Saens Quartet, Op. 41. With Sanyer now back with Dozoryst and Townsend, the work initially lacks personality, but more than makes up for it as the four movements unfold. By far the longest work of the night, the capacity crowd at the Oakwood Village West Auditorium seemed in no mood to cut the evening short, delivering a long and richly earned ovation. 

Photo by Alan Manis

Under Allan Naplan’s tenure as General Director, Madison Opera has developed a nifty tradition of placing the second of their three seasonal productions in the 340-seat Playhouse at the Overture Center. It gives the company an opportunity to stage a work — definitively operatic or not — that not only would be problematic in Overture Hall, but benefits greatly from the more intimate venue.

Having scored successes the last two seasons with Copland’s The Tender Land and Britten’s The Turn of the Screw, Naplan oversaw a production of Kurt Weill’s 1928 crossover work, The Threepenny Opera.

So here’s the good news and the bad news: the production is full of strong contributions, and still manages to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts, but all seven performances were sold out before last Friday’s opening.

In a performance full of Madison Opera debuts, undoubtedly the most important was that of director Dorothy Danner. Unlike a theater or film director who decides to try their hand at opera of some sort, Danner’s wide-ranging background as performer, and more importantly director, of over two hundred productions of plays, musicals, operettas and opera, makes her an ideal candidate for such a seminal work as Threepenny. She’s not afraid to lighten the mood with Keystone Kops-like antics, and indeed, much of the action is highly physical. But she is quick to use those moments of light only to reveal the pervasive darkness of the milieu: the underbelly of Victorian London (indeed on the verge of her Highness’ coronation), a dark, desperate place of beggars, prostitutes, cutthroats and corrupt policemen.

Danner is critically aided in this approach by the endless variations of dingy poverty and faux elegance in the costume designs of Karen Brown-Larimore. Likewise, the lighting (or should we say darkening) effects of John G. Frautschy play a key role, on occasion even producing fleeting but telling moments akin to film noir.

Musically the question of the night was: can James DeVita sing? The short answer is a qualified “yes.” In the first place, Threepenny is not mainstream opera because there is far more spoken dialogue than singing, and with its 1928 cabaret-tinged Berlin roots and Bertolt Brecht libretto, the sensibility is obviously far removed from Mozart or Verdi. The heart of DeVita’s character, Macheath (the “Mack” of “Mack the Knife”), is that of the lovable villain, and DeVita’s 16-year career at American Players Theatre was more than enough resumé for the acting part of the gig. His first foray with “Love Song” revealed a touch of insecurity, and the later “Ballad of the Easy Life” brought to mind Rex Harrison’s technique of how to sing without singing. But that quality lies largely in the song itself, and in “Tango Ballad” and elsewhere, DeVita gave evidence that he has taken a new direction in his stage career that should continue to bear fruit.

Photo by Alan Manis

The three young ladies who are all in and out of love with the inconstant Macheath were the real stars of the show, vocally and otherwise. Alicia Berneche has the operatic track record to tackle the work’s most vocally demanding role of Polly, and Liz Cassarino, a promising graduate student at UW Madison, was a superb match for Berneche vocally and in her acting in the role of Lucy. Tracy Michelle Arnold, another veteran of APT, was the sinuous, seductive and pragmatic prostitute, Jenny.

But without the substantial contributions of the rest of a large ensemble cast, the night would have remained intermittent highlights. Certainly general kudos at least have to go out to the veteran leadership of David Barron, Amy Welk and Edward Marion.

One of the only disappointments was the inability to observe the small but effective band of eight players, led by Artistic Director John DeMain from the piano and synthesizer. It’s hard not to capture the right sound of this work with that kind of leadership, and playing from such local luminaries as Les Thimmig on reeds.

Photo by Alan Manis

The announcement that the run was sold out had been made earlier, and so I was a bit surprised to find myself next to an empty seat — only to have it occupied moments before the downbeat by General Director Allan Naplan. He left just as quickly at intermission and the show’s close, so let me say here what so many have been saying: Thank you sir, for what you have helped to build here at Madison Opera. We wish you well as you move up the map, geographically and operatically. We can only hope that your successor builds upon the legacy you leave behind.

PLAYOFFS?! PRO ARTE QUARTET PLAYS ON

If you were wondering where about 50 folks who weren’t watching the Packers engage the Bears for a trip to the Super Bowl on Sunday afternoon, I found them. We were sparsely scattered among the 500 or so inviting seats at the Stoughton Opera House, watching the Pro Arte Quartet perform like the perennial champions they are.

In opening with one of the most appealing of the early Beethoven string quartets, the Op. 18, No. 5, the PAQ wasted not a moment in testing their vaunted sense of ensemble and precision. I recalled meeting the famed Guarneri Quartet back in the mic-1970s, and asking one of them what were the hardest quartets to tackle — the intensely personal late quartets of Beethoven? No, came the reply, the early ones of Beethoven, because of the combination of individual difficulty combined with the Classical transparency required — either that or Mozart.

 Beethoven only occasionally hints in this work at what is to come when he fully found his unique, revolutionary voice, and the Pro Arte opted to emphasize the Classical roots of the young Beethoven. It was in the great theme and variations of the third movement that the greatest outburst came, that moment late in the proceedings where the collective sound just seems to burst forth, with the first violinist’s trills lighting up the entire sequence.

The acoustic of the Stoughton locale provided even a greater test than Mills Hall had when I heard the group in September, and even in the finale of the Beethoven, where a light, precise touch is of the essence, the PAQ delivered with aplomb. Happy to report as well that violist Sally Chisholm, in her first performance since hip replacement surgery, might not have bounced in her seat as much as her wont, but has lost nothing of the rich tone and expressiveness she brings to the ensemble’s middle core of sound.

 A minor but memorable treat was had just before intermission, with three of the “Novelettes” of Glazunov. Written in 1886 by the 21-year old composer, long before tsars gave way to a new repression, the opening “Alla Spagnola” was propelled by cellist Parry Karp’s urgent pizzicato, while Chisholm suffused the “Interludium” with a wordless melody of real poignancy. The “Valse” lilted effortlessly.

Having given Beethoven the Classical approach, generally speaking, the Pro Arte made a strong case for Mozart’s K. 428 quartet looking forward to 19^th-century romanticism. The work opens with an eerie half-melody delivered in unison, and the PAQ seemed to draw upon it as the basis for the dramatic tension that underlies the entire movement. In the Andante con moto, the Pro Arte appeared to favor a larger loud dynamic than had been the case with Beethoven, to great effect.

 The Menuetto reiterated first violinist’s David Perry’s uncanny ability to lead subtly nuanced differences of timing in repeated motifs. Of course, the full tribute goes to all four players, for meticulous rehearsing and for reaching that rarified level that only comes from fifteen years or so of playing together. Perry had the greatest technical workout in the finale, but it would be remiss not to give credit to second violinist Suzanne Beia’s essential contributions throughout the afternoon.

 The next time the Pro Arte Quartet is scheduled to play, do yourself a favor: treat it like the Super Bowl of string quartet playing. Bookies would always favor them to “cover the spread,” no matter who they’re playing…

Wingra Quintet Honors Past, Celebrates Present

The woodwind quintet is something of a well-loved stepchild in the family of music ensembles. The repertoire began to build in the early 19^th-century, but the majority of the most famous composers have resisted the combination of flute, oboe, clarinet, horn and bassoon. And while those string players fortunate to become part of a major string quartet can sometimes devote themselves solely to their ensemble fulltime, wind players are usually engaged in orchestras, and/or teaching positions.

Even at major universities, one doesn’t always encounter an established woodwind quintet — and certainly few that begin to rival the accomplishments of UW-Madison’s own Wingra Quintet. Wednesday night the Wingra had an opportunity to celebrate the start of their 45^th season, and imaginatively combined past and present by programming works composed or arranged by founding or current members.

The tributes began with “March” (1948) by the Wingra’s founding horn player, John Barrows (1913-1974). This was no Sousa two-step, but took lively advantage of an instrumental combination that the composer literally knew inside out.

A later former horn player, Douglas Hill, was called to the stage to share insights on his “Three Moods.” The original 2005 score for horn and string quartet evolved in 2008 into the woodwind quintet version. The moods of “Joy,” “Sorrow” and “Anger” are apparently a mix of jazz-inflected environmental concerns overlaid with political overtones. Whatever the merits of the original composition, the change in instrumentation seems obvious — it’s not that strings can’t play jazz, but the timbres of the woodwinds would seem to make the harmonic shadings and jazz riffs all the more expressive.

Former flutist Richard Lottridge’s arrangement of the “Suite Francaise” of Poulenc (originally for solo piano) was a thorough delight. Lottridge could hardly have chosen better source material, as Poulenc wrote extensively for winds, including a celebrated Sextet for piano and woodwind quintet. Lottridge also allowed present Wingra flutist Stephanie Jutt to switch to piccolo in a couple of the movements. Later in the seven movements came a Renaissance stateliness, some wonderful use of Marc Vallon’s lower bassoon range, and a finale that was simply flat-out cute.

The arrangements of founding clarinetist Glenn Bowen (currently retired in Tucson; Linda Bartley, who took over his chair in 1992 is only the second clarinetist in Wingra’s history), opened and closed the second half. In an arrangement of Jimmy Dorsey’s “Oodles of Noodles,” it was Jutt who had oodles of fun. In “Walking Home in Spring,” the first of two Alec Wilder tunes, Marc Fink swapped his oboe for an English horn, lending an even darker hue when melded with the bassoon and French horn (the latter played with great versatility all evening by Linda Kimball). Whatever the original version of “Neurotic Goldfish” might have held, here Vallon was unleashed to race all over his bassoon.

Vallon then introduced his arrangement of Bartok’s Op. 6 “Bagatelles” for piano, originally fourteen brief movements in all. Vallon selected half of them, and provided additional variety by not using all five instruments in every movement. Number 3 omitted the oboe and bassoon, for example, and Bartok’s original lines can be so sparse that the decision to pare down the instrumentation here and there was effectively utilized.

A brief Duke Ellington medley (“Satin Doll,” “Sophisticated Lady” and “Take the ‘A’ Train”) closed the night with a kind of living exclamation point, as if the Wingra Quintet was saying: “This is who we were, who we are, this is our music, and how we play it!”

Happy 45^th birthday Wingra Quintet: long may the group make music in any future incarnations.

Leonard and Taylor: Everybody Wins 

When one has the opportunity to hear a musician of the stature of cellist Ronald Leonard, it’s a given that there will be at least a handful of memorable moments.

When such an artist is partnered with an “accompanist” such as Christopher Taylor — a musician whose artistic mind and technical mastery are a virtual match for Leonard’s — then the entire event has the chance to be filed in a special drawer of one’s memory banks.

Such was the result Friday night at a packed Morphy Recital Hall. Leonard, despite having devoted a quarter-century of his life as the principal cellist of the Los Angeles Philharmonic (1975-2000), had already been prodigiously active in chamber music and teaching, and added some substantial conducting achievements to his repertoire. The still-growing product is an artist of true depth, a master not simply of technique, but one of broad insight into every style, and who knows the difference between technical dazzle, and the reason why a great composer might employ such a passage in the first place.

I say this because listening to Leonard quickly made me reflect on hearing the youthful Alisa Weilerstein just the previous week with the Madison Symphony. Make no mistake, I stand by my review of her: she excites in the way one acknowledges her dazzling technique and daring and sees ample evidence that she may indeed grow into an artist of towering stature. But she can be impetuous, headstrong, and — for all the fresh moments she brought to the most frequently played of all cello concertos, Dvorak’s — her most arresting qualities were not always placed first at the service of the composer’s work.

Leonard however is, to be brief, the opposite. He does not lack for passion, or pyrotechnics, but only when required. To be fair, Ms. Weilerstein was heard in a single major work, albeit a masterpiece. Leonard’s menu ran the gamut from the late Classicism of Francouer and Schubert to the various degrees of Romanticism in Schumann, Grieg and Reger. There was even a hint of the miraculous about it all, as cellist and pianist had never performed together before, but gave a clinic as they went in wordless communication, and unanimity of interpretive spirit.

The evening opened with the unfamiliar “Prelude” Op. 123 of Emanuel Moor, a brief work that still finds time to move from stately to impassioned. The Sonata in E major of Francouer had its share of stateliness to open its four movements, but the pair of players delved as deeply into the later movements’ playfulness, songful qualities and scampering finale.

Schumann’s three “Fantasy Pieces,” Op. 73 were originally set for clarinet, and speaking as one who has played that original, I could not help but envy Leonard’s phrasing and ability to subtly color the different ranges of the instrument. The last of the three is marked “with fire,” and both players nailed that directive.

The first half closed with the post-Romantic Max Reger’s Suite for Solo Cello, Op. 131c, No. 1. For anyone who regretted not having a Bach suite programmed, here was the next best thing. The central Adagio, with its extensive double stops (playing on two strings at once) became a virtual one-man duet.

The highlight of the second half was the fabulous Sonata in A minor, Op. 36 by Grieg, he of the “Peer Gynt” fame. Earlier in the evening I was disappointed not to see any program notes for the background of the works (a general point; Grieg’s life and work is generally well known), but in listening to this piece unfold it seemed that even the best notes would have seemed superfluous; the players revealed the “real” meaning of the music as it progressed. Taylor, who consistently matched Leonard in every way, seemed to summon even greater depths here. I know I have heard the work more than once on recordings, but as thunderous applause rained down, I asked myself why I had never been swept away by the piece before? The answer of course, lies in the performers.

The formal program ended with Schubert’s “Introduction, Theme and Variations,” Op. 82, No. 2, where the only hint of scrappiness emerged for a moment. It scarcely threw a shadow on the proceedings, and another round of curtain calls elicited a single encore: Ernest Bloch’s “Prayer.”

As I had watched Leonard, I mused that the very act of playing cello is a great metaphor for his career: one must not only hold the instrument close to one’s heart, but wrap your arms around it, and embrace it fully. How fortunate for us last Friday that Taylor could get his arms around this performance, too.