The recording, a luxurious and record-setting 85 minutes of burnished virtuosity, is spread over 18 arias spanning three centuries and 15 composers. Spyres straddles the tenor and baritone repertoires so stylishly as to approach a state of operatic titillation, if there was was such a thing.
It would be unreasonable to expect these star-crossed lovers to create a more charmingly romantic balcony scene and "Tonight." They are literally heaven-sent when singing their vows in "One Hand, One Heart" amidst sunlight streaming through stained glass at the MET Museum’s Cloisters.
Pierrot Lunaire translates eerily well to film, especially in the hands of this team. Shot in black and white and with moments of harsh chiarioscuro in Adam Harris' lighting design, we're brought into the delicate world of a chamber group set-up.
The blazing orchestra doesn't so much compensate for the lack of the sword and tree but more accurately supplants the need for such paraphernalia.
Every part of the playing space could function as a projection screen. It was some of the most exciting tech I've ever seen in a show.
The Queen in Me at the Canadian Opera Company is the culmination of years of work by Kasahara and their creative team to create this monolith of a one-person show. A true one-person show -- not a recital, not a cabaret or salon, but a dramatically driven show that would need to be seen to be believed.
Joyce DiDonato has made a stunning recording. Since we've become accustomed to her perfect technique, rich characterizations and commitment to the message as well as the music, this is not unusual. But with Eden, her new recording on Erato, this masterful mezzo-soprano quite simply astonishes.
I could see Ms. Vaness' artistry in every move of the performers. While there was no groundbreaking staging, I felt a special electricity from the cast, like there was a connection to the greats, which of course Ms. Vaness provides.
Legato in spades and a magnetic presence on the stage that was at times hypnotizing, her "Sempre libera" (an aria that holds a particularly special place in the hearts of Queers in my generation) brought the house down.
Julie Andrijeski and Shelby Yamin (violins), Kathryn Montoya and Nagy (oboes and recorders), Rebecca Reed (viola da gamba) and Mark Edwards (harpsichord) all wear cat masks, a simple and delightfully conspiratorial gesture. These cats know how to work it.