Word: sopranoes
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...seat. For more info, call 353-3355. The Busch-Reisinger Thursday Noon Recital Series features the Cambridge Symphonic Brass Ensemble this afternoon. Another free event is a concert at the Somerville Public Library, Highland Ave. and Walnut St., this Sunday at 3 p.m. Selections include soprano, flute and harp works--Handel, Britten and everything in between...
...fascinating as the unfolding of his intricate schemes. One minute he is the Venetian magnifico, reveling in his gold and his audacity and boasting that even "the Turk is not more sensual in his pleasures than Volpone." The next he is an old man of faltering soprano. "Oh," he says, "I am sailing to my port and I am glad I am so near my haven...
...Have no doubt about who you are," Maria Callas once counseled a student soprano. La Divina, as she was called, was talking about the art of portraying an operatic heroine onstage. But she might have been offering her philosophy of life. She came out of an unhappy childhood-appallingly fat and resentful and lonely-and clawed her way to success and greatness with a singlehearted ferocity that awed even her enemies. Conductor Tullio Serafin, her indispensable mentor in the crucial early days, was tossed aside temporarily-for daring to record La Traviata with another soprano. Enraged at the Callas...
Puccini: Tosca (Soprano Montserrat Caballé, Tenor José Carreras, Baritone Ingvar Wixell, orchestra and chorus of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, Colin Davis conductor, Philips; 2 LPs). This interpretation of Tosca is nothing if not eccentric. Davis' reading of the florid score is rich and clear but systematically undramatic. As the idealistic painter Cavaradossi, Carreras gives a properly ardent performance, but it seems lost on this particular Tosca. The elegant Caballé can no more be made into the hot-blooded actress than the eyes of Cavaradossi's Mary Magdalen can be changed from blue...
Nearly a quarter of a century has passed since Matisse's death, but the audacity of his color remains astonishing. What other artist could handle those deep, resonant cobalt blues, those fuchsias and oranges, those velvety blacks and soprano yellows, without producing an effect akin to colored gumballs? In Matisse's world, color was equated with feeling. It belonged to the realm of Dionysus. But Matisse's goal was, in his own words, to establish "a sort of hierarchy of all my sensations," to possess and minutely articulate the nuances of feeling. There was nothing more decisive...