| Kathleen Battle managed to surprise the Moscow public It was assumed that the appearance in Moscow of the capricious black prima donna and owner of one of the best operatic voices of the twentieth (at least) century, Kathleen Battle, could become a direct competitor to last year's Moscow concert of another majestic African-American woman, Jessie Norman. But there was another version of the development of events organized by the Krauterconcert agency - not so much sensational as scandalous. After all, the reputation of the ex-star of the Metropolitan Opera with five Grammys and six doctorates, a favorite of James Levine, a skillful partner of Wynton Marsalis and Grover Washington Jr. is literally nothing without mention of the bitchiness of her character. From the Met, Kathleen Battle was fired, with the active intervention of trade unions, precisely for “unprofessional behavior.” However, sometimes other formulations are found: “Battle is an example of an outstanding love of freedom and the ability to defend one’s rights.” This is how her young fans mostly express themselves. For fans of a more respectable age, her fantastically wide and elegantly formed repertoire (from Handel to Fauré and the vocal cycle Honey and Rue, composed by Andre Previn at the request of Carnegie Hall to texts by Nobel laureate Toni Morrison), unsurpassed in the degree of vocal sophistication and radiant artistry, means much more. roles in operas by Mozart, Rossini, Donizetti, Richard Strauss, as well as exquisite recordings from Deutche Grammophon and Sony (be it sophisticated operatic or chamber repertoire, “Baroque Duets” paired with Marsalis, dizzying spirituals paired with Jessie Norman or light collections in popular crossover genre).
But whatever the expectations, Battle managed to deceive them. Indeed, due to a small whim, no less than five anxious minutes passed between the announcement of the entertainer and the singer’s appearance on stage. For those who know the singer’s biography, their hearts sank to their feet, but their fears were in vain. Battle was just teasing. Meanwhile, eyewitnesses claim that throughout the entire visit and especially at the rehearsal, the prima looked like a pure angel in comparison with her partner, conductor Mark Gorenstein, whose stories about his macabre manners overshadow all the funny stories about Battle’s touching antics.
As for sensational musical impressions, to everyone’s surprise, they were also practically avoided. The crystalline soprano of the 54-year-old prima, whose Zerlina in Karajan’s Salzburg “Don Giovanni” or Zerbinetta in “Ariadne auf Naxos” (Covent Garden Theatre, Laurence Olivier Award) are considered the best interpretations of the generation, did not appear in the best shape in Moscow. What remains from the amazingly light vocal gait and affectionate aristocracy are subtle drawings and a hoarse, artistic whisper. In fact, Battle half-sang, half-whispered her entire, far from overloaded program. Only some fragments of the recitative and romance of Juliet from Bellini’s opera “Capulets and the Montagues” were reminiscent of the great Battle of the eighties and early nineties. Linda’s hit cavatina from Donizetti’s “Linda di Chamounix” sounded like a naive, although not without trepidation, copy of vocal images. And Mozart’s Motet for soprano and orchestra, Exsultate, Jubilate, which was supposed to be the highlight of the program, was completely disappointing, in whose style Battle knows a lot like no one else. All that remains is to choose between explanations for what is happening: either Kathleen Battle’s manners are outdated and therefore no longer captivating (after all, her voice, which is not at all huge, was never considered phenomenal; it was always her cut that was outstanding), or the prima donna simply had a cold. And most likely both.
In addition, the State Orchestra led by Mark Gorenshtein did not help the singer at all. In the long orchestral episodes, which brought the concert to a decent length, the conductor surprised with his unthinking attitude to meter and timbre. The total marching manner with which the orchestra obediently packaged Bizet’s “Arlesienne” and Mozart’s “Little Night Serenade” into briquettes of uniformly disciplined, thick and flat sound was tired and frustrating. As for the accompaniment, it also did not shine with an exquisite balance of groups, but that would not have been so bad. Whatever form Kathleen Battle is in today, it is difficult to imagine musicians with more dissimilar manners. To the plasticity of vocal phrasing, clear even through a whisper, and the subtlety of colors (even when it seemed more imaginary than real), Gorenstein continued to stubbornly respond with briquettes. The sound was heavy (for Battle this could not but end in disaster), the phrase was square, the introductions were inaccurate, and some of the rhythmic slowdowns, accelerations, backlashes for taking breath, etc., necessary for the singer. the conductor simply decided not to perform. A rare case.
Everything would have ended sadly if not for the encore set. While the orchestra was resting, the singer began singing spirituals, no longer embarrassed by the miniature inhaler in her fist. “I would like to have two little wings to fly away from here,” Battle sang, inhaling a little medicine, with almost unexpected vocal grace, quietly playing with timbres, amazingly fragile phrasing. And this desire of hers was easy to believe. Maybe she really is already tired of professional games. Maybe she just wants to fly away. “I hear music in the air. I hear music in the air. This must be God somewhere here,” she addressed first to the orchestra and then to the audience. And many listened too. So Battle, at the end of her life, offered the local public something completely different from what was expected of her: only a few touchingly sung words and one cautious assumption instead of professional splendor and concert sophistication. Yulia BEDEROVA |
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