The First and the Last, Alpha and Omega

On Thursday, Nov. 4, 2010, I attended the Russian premiere of "The Third and Final Testament" by Nikolay Obukhov (1892-1954). Obukhov was a Russian-born composer who emigrated to France. Though a contemporary of Prokofiev, his music was quite a bit more avant garde. Obukhov created his own system of giant harmonic clusters and worked with experimental instruments, most notably the "croix sonore" which is elsewhere described as a cousin of the Theremin. For those of you not up on your retro electronic instruments, the Theremin has an eerie sound suitable for science fiction soundtracks, and its mechanism is equally ghoulish...the player does not actually touch the instrument but moves his/her hands nearby and the instrument takes its pitch and volume from an electronic reading of the position of the hands.

If it is a great honor to attend the Russian premiere of a major work by an important Russian-born composer, it must be doubly impressive to have attended what will no doubt also turn out to be its final performance in St. Petersburg. The work features a full symphony orchestra, two pianists, an organ (here played by two players), the "croix sonore" (a theremin was employed) and five vocal soloists who intoned six pages of obtuse French text about the Last Judgment and the Resurrection of the Dead. They needn't have bothered. They could rarely be heard over the din. The music sounded much more like the soundtrack of a science-fiction animated feature about post-apocalyptic cell-fragments wandering through the nouveau-primordial ooze in search of organic matter to glom onto than souls making their final ascent heavenward. The sympathetic audience, inclined to give the work the benefit of the doubt, eventually slowly gave up trying to distinguish one section of big noise from another, and, one by one, began to filter out of the hall. I know not how many were left at the end, since somewhere in the middle of the second half, I joined their number. I feel relatively certain, as there had been little change in the work over the previous forty minutes, the last twenty would hold much the same. I admit that this is the reverse of the classic fallacy of judgment made by the Thanksgiving Turkey, who wrongly assumes that a certain Wednesday in November will be as delightful as all of the previous days of being gloriously fattened up.

But to continue the food metaphor, the "light" appetizer before this turgid bouillabaisse was Scriabin's Third Symphony, known as "The Divine Poem." This exciting work, brilliantly performed by the St. Petersburg Philharmonic energetically led by Aleksander Titov provided the inspiration seemingly missing from the (even) larger work. I am familiar only with Scriabin's piano music. This piece struck me (in my admitted ignorance) as the possible offspring of the unlikely marriage of César Franck and Anton Bruckner, and more interesting to me than most works by either of these composers. The audience gave the performance a lengthy ovation of rhythmic applause, uncharacteristic for the middle rather than the end of the concert. Alas, I have no idea if those who remained until Obukhov's resurrected souls had reached the heavenly heights were equally as enthusiastic.

Conservatory Festivities

The rest of my visit to Moscow was consumed with the wonderful impressionist gallery of the Pushkin museum, as well as the beautiful church across the street.

Returning to Saint Petersburg, I was thrown back into the fray of the International Festival of Conservatories. This is the tenth year of the Festival, and Conservatories from France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Israel and the United States were invited, among others. The US was represented by Eastman School of Music, the Peabody Conservatory, Morgan State, and of course, me. The US schools had a separate evening of performances, including some boffo Scriabin from a talented young pianist from Eastman. Vocal students from Peabody presented Spanish songs, Russian duets, and a series of excerpts of songs and arias by Lori Laitman, accompanied by the composer herself! The program encompassed her career as a vocal composer, including her very first song as well as excerpts from her new opera, The Scarlet Letter. The program finished with a thrilling performance of excerpts from Porgy and Bess performed by the Morgan State choir and some fantastic soloists.

Earlier that day I had given my first masterclass in the conservatory. The students were very impressive, singing Mozart, Verdi, Gounod, Puccini, and Fauré. I had a number of luminaries stop into my class, including Laitman and the Russian coach from Peabody, Vera Danchenko-Stern. I felt honored that the two of them took the time to come make my acquaintance, and I was able to meet with both of them more extensively the next day. Over breakfast Lori Laitman and I discussed her career writing for voice (naturally I guided the conversation to those works for baritone) and I look forward to learning some of her works, which are already favorites of my students in Michigan. Vera Danchenko-Stern was kind enough to coach me on some of the Tchaikovsky songs I have been singing. I hope to see both of these extraordinary artists when I am in Washington in March for my recital at the Russian Cultural Center on March 7.

I gave a second masterclass at the Musical College here in Saint Petersburg. In three hours I saw 12 extraordinary young singers perform works ranging from "Caro mio ben" to some of the most ambitious arias in the repertory, such as Doretta's Song from Puccini's La Rondine. All the students acquitted themselves well, a testimony to the fine training they are receiving.

This masterclass gave me the opportunity to better understand how the curriculum works between the two schools. The Conservatory offers vocalists a five year diploma program which is not designed to be the equivalent of an academic degree, but really prepares a singer for a professional career. Although theoretically one could enter the Conservatory right out of high school--and some do--the nature of vocal development makes it more feasible to wait a while. Thus many students get a degree from the Musical College and then apply for entrance into the Conservatory. The students at the Musical College ranged from about 16 to 21. Students start at the Conservatory anywhere from 16 to 24 or even later. Remember that I started taking voice lessons just before turning 39, so I have nothing against late starters!

As the week drew towards its end, I saw a performance of Così fan tutte performed by the Conservatory students. Officially this was not a presentation of the Festival of Conservatories, which had another event presented simultaneously. The Così production was beautifully sung and played and engagingly staged. Larger scenes took place on a central platform with shifting benches and flower pots which would then be hidden by a scene curtain with the next scene playing "in 1." The result was that the scenes in which the men were acting their Albanian roles took place on a stage within a stage, while others looking on could position themselves on the stage floor proper. Without calling attention to itself or veering towards a modern interpretation the staging pointed the audience into a deeper understanding of the levels of the plot and the interactions of the characters.

Stranger on the Train

Friday night was the opening of the Conservatory Festival here in St. Petersburg. Conservatories from all over the world have sent students and faculty to perform in concert over the next week, and there is a lot of exchange of music and talent. The opening concert featured the St. Petersburg Conservatory Orchestra performing Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique. And fantastique it was! Glazunov Hall is a beautiful setting for a concert, but the acoustics are not ideal for a full orchestra. Nonetheless it was exciting to experience this work close up and personal. The orchestra, conducted by Conservatory Rector Sergei Stadler, performed beautifully. There was a reception for the many foreign dignitaries and consulate representatives in attendance. After gulping down some beef tongue, a Russian specialty, I bolted for the train station.

My friends Alan and Jorge from London are escorting my buddy Bernie to visit me and see Russia. They flew to Moscow on Tuesday/Wednesday and spent several days there, visiting the Kremlin, seeing the Bolshoi Ballet, and attending Shostakovich operas in concert, along with Alan's favorite, the Ravel G-major piano concerto. The plan was for me to take the train to Moscow and meet them, and then we would all take the train back to Saint Petersburg together on Sunday.

I don't know if I have mentioned Kira, the brilliant young musicology student assigned to help me here in St. Petersburg. Kira very kindly accompanied me on a scouting trip to the train station, to help me buy my ticket and to show me what I needed to know for my trip. But Friday after the concert, instead of following Kira's instructions to take the bus to the Metro to the train station. I decided to walk. I had never been on the Eastern part of Nevsky Prospect, the beautiful shopping street that is Russia's answer to Chicago's Magnificent Mile, but it was stunning at night in the light snow. However, the station was much farther than I thought, and soon the light snow had turned into a minor pelting. So there i was, running for the train with my gym bag, my coat soaked, my face cold, but my bundled up torso sweating from the exertion.

At any rate I did make it on time. There are essentially two main types of train between St. Petersburg and Moscow. This was a sleeper train, and left at 12:40 am. It takes about 9 hours, so it travels at a moderately slow pace. I was assigned a cabin with three beautiful women of differing ages. Two of them spoke a little English and helped translate the instructions of the conductor. I was told later that it was unusual for a man to be assigned to a car with three women, but perhaps that was because I bought my ticket late, and was willing to take seat #13, which apparently is an unlucky number here as well as elsewhere. 

There were a few surprises ahead, they none caused any major problems. First of all, just after we left the conductor came by to take our dinner orders: chicken, fish, or vegetarian. I chose the chicken. That was all well and good, but no food arrived, and around 2:00 am we converted the seats to mattresses and went to sleep. I thought i would have trouble sleeping, but around 7:45 I was awakened from deep slumber by the conductor who threw three styrofoam containers into the compartment containing chicken, rice and a raw cabbage slaw. Good morning!

Surprise number two came when we got to the station. The interior of the Leningradskiy Station in Moscow is exactly like the interior of Moskovsky Station in St. Petersburg. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Had I merely taken an excursion and returned to exact point from which I departed? Only the different location of the men's room confirmed that I was in a different city.

The third surprise was that Leningradsky station was not the one I was expecting to arrive in. My guide book had mentioned another station, and there were no instructions as to how to get to where I was going. But I managed to read the Metro map and made it safely to the loving arms of my friends in their centrally located Moscow apartment.

At any rate, despite the fact that I was a little achy from sleeping on the train, and much less aesthetically presentable than I prefer to be, we leapt into action. We walked down to Red Square and got on line to see Lenin's body lying in state in his mausoleum. I can't imagine how much of his actual DNA is actually left by this time, but with the skillful presentation he did look like pictures of Lenin I had seen, and the eerie lighting did invite communing with his spirit in the other world.

Russian Art, Part 1: Who's Afraid of Modern Art?

I can't believe that I have gotten so behind in my posting. I wonder if I should do less and write more? That seems counterproductive somehow.

At any rate, three weeks ago my delightful landlady Natalia invited me to accompany her to the opening of a new Russian modern art museum, Erarta. This place already had a commercial gallery, and then decided to open a museum as well.

The opening was quite an event; probably close to a thousand people attended, certainly many more than expected. Outside before the doors opened there were bands playing and lots of balloons. An MC read off the names of the featured artists, who were ushered into the building to put on their uniforms for a promised soccer game. Finally admitted, we climbed the stairs to the fifth floor--the elevator was occupied by a kind of live art event--and saw a small rectangle of turf with a full sized soccer goal box on each end. That left about 10 feet of playing space between the two goals.

Two teams consisting of some of Russia's most prominent living artists entered to the cheers of the crowd and flipped a coin to determine who would start play. Off they went and twenty seconds later with the first score the game ended. Loud music was playing, and the artists starting stripping out of  Erarta T-shirts to reveal--another just like it underneath. Then they threw their shirts into the adoring throng, like beads at Mardi Gras. That was the beginning of an evening of fun, frivolity, and fine art.

The new museum has five floors and features well-lit and attractively spaced galleries. I was struck by an entire floor of religious lithographs, arranged in groups of 14, like stations of the cross. Other floors featured more secular and sometimes humorous exhibits, often accompanied by living replicas of the subjects. (I assume that these live art events occurred only for the opening night.)

Virtually all of the art works on display were figurative in the broad sense, and most in the narrow sense of depicting the human form.  (This reminds me of an incident in which Joan Miró supposedly declined an award by a society of abstract painters, because, as he said, his art was not abstract; indeed, every squiggle in his fascinating paintings represents something, albeit obliquely.)

I think if I loved every work in a modern art museum, the curator would not be doing his/her job properly. But among those works I liked best were these by Dmitry Shorin, Anastasia Bazanova,  Alexander Kosenkov, Konstantin Grachev, Ekaterina Gracheva, Vladimir Ovchinnikov, Alla Dzhigirei, and Nikolai Kopeikin, whose elephant painting so frightened me in the picture at the top of this post.

After five floors of the museum, I was too exhausted to tour the five floors of the gallery on the other side; that will have to wait for another occasion. The gallery store separating the two parts featured a machine that produces reproductions of the art works full-scale and painted on canvas. So if you can't afford the original, you can still take home a pretty convincing copy.

Clearly the event delighted the huge crowd, which in turn must have thrilled the organizers. I, for one, was grateful for the opportunity to see what is going on in Russian art circles today and to interact with the artists themselves. One stairway features a series of self-portraits of many of them--another way to help us remember the people behind the art.

The Kirov Ballet and the Fish that Got Away

While I have had wonderful tastes of the Mariinsky dancers during the various opera performances, my first experience of a complete evening of ballet took place on Wednesday when I saw Spartacus. The work, with a rousing score by Aram Khachaturian, actually had its premiere in the same house in 1956, four years before the appearance of the well-known movie on the same subject. In a nutshell, Spartacus, his wife Phrygia, and his friend Harmodius are slaves in ancient Rome, under the tyrannical leadership of Marcus Crassus. After witnessing Crassus cause the cruel murder of a slave who stumbled, Spartacus decides to lead a slave rebellion. The rebels are victorious for some time until Crassus's seductive courtesan Aegina succeeds in causing a rupture between Spartacus and Harmodius and their respective supporters. Divided, the rebels are soon conquered, leaving a distraught Phrygia to mourn the loss of her husband.

The ballet opens with a triumphal procession of Marcus Crassus, which at the Mariinsky involved over 100 people, including at least 50 men (some were buff supernumeraries rather than dancers). Danila Korsuntsev was dashing in the title role, and Sofia Gumerova and Ekaterina Kondaurova were respectively moving and seductive as the faithful wife and the femme fatale. The choreography that I saw, based on the original choreography by Leonid Yakobson, was graceful, musical, and certainly full of spectacle. Apparently it was considered controversial at the time, because Yakobson completely dispensed with toe shoes so the women were never dancing en pointe. This seemed more than appropriate with the ancient Roman costumes.  However, the better-known version of Spartacus is the second Bolshoi staging by Yuri Grigorovich featuring not only toe shoes but striking athleticism.  Here is the Grigorovich/Bolshoi staging of the famous Act III Adagio. This next video claims to be the same in the Yakobson staging, but is actually a passage in Act II with the same musical theme. Other passages from both stagings are also available on Youtube

As in the case of "the artist formerly known as Prince," to me the Mariinsky ballet is "the company formerly known as Kirov." Kirov was the name used by the company during the Soviet era, and still used when the company goes on tour since it is good for box office. In St. Petersburg, though, the name Mariinsky has been restored and the name "Kirov" has been relegated to the same purgatory as the thankfully abandoned "Leningrad."

Delighted with Spartacus, I eagerly looked forward to seeing Bayaderka (La Bayadère) the following Saturday. La Bayadère, like its better-known sibling, the ballet version of Don Quixote, was originally choreographed by Marius Petipa (arguably the most important choreographer of all time) to a score by Ludwig (a.k.a. Léon) Minkus. The ballet premiered in 1877 here in St. Petersburg.  La Bayadère is principally known in the west for its famous scene, "The Kingdom of the Shades."  Each member of the corps de ballet enters on a long zig-zagging ramp, strikes an arabesque, and steps forward, making room for the addition of the next dancer. This continues in achingly beautiful symmetry until all 32 dancers have entered. It may not sound like much, but when you see it, it is breathtaking.

Up until 2000, more than a century after its premiere, for various reasons well-explained in the unusually thorough wikipedia article, the original four-act version of Bayaderka had never been seen or even heard in the west. In that year, the Mariinsky ballet began assembling a reconstruction of Petipa's 1900 revival of the work, which had been preserved in dance notation since that time. The restored version received a mixed response in Russia, but was rapturously greeted when the Kirov took it on tour to London and New York.

So on Saturday I arrived at the Mariinsky Theatre well prepared in the the history of this important work, eager to see the world's only production in 100 years of the original version, presented in the city of its premiere. Alas, for the first time in St Petersburg, I was unable to get a ticket as every seat in the theatre had been sold! I hovered near the entrance of the theatre, certain that at the last minute some wife would have failed to convince her husband to join her at the ballet, to no avail. Apparently husbands in Russia are either more docile or more interested in ballet than in the US, or both. I will have to await the return of the ballet in November.

Vive le Conservatoire! Да здравствует консерватория

Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov

It is a joy to be working in the Saint Petersburg Conservatory. The quality of the students is extraordinary, and the quality of opportunities they are offered is equally high. I am coaching them on repertory in English, German and French, and also making interpretive comments where appropriate. Their voices are impressive and they are amazingly advanced for undergraduates. A number of the students have transfered into the Conservatory a few years into their college education. They began studying voice as a sidebar to their studies and discovered their gifts. This also allowed some of them to develop a little farther vocally before entering the Conservatory.

Once admitted, voice students have an astonishing three hour lessons a week with their applied teacher, plus an hour with another vocal specialist in their Vocal Chamber Music program. This much one-on-one time is naturally very expensive and is out of the reach of most music schools. In addition, an excellent pianist is supplied for them for every lesson. These pianists hurl themselves fearlessly and cheerfully at everything thrown at them from Medtner to Bernstein.

Last week the Conservatory hosted an international music education conference centered around the implications for music schools in Europe and Russia of the "Bologna Process Principles." The Bologna Principles have to do with the goal of international "convergence" (they prefer that word to "standardization") of curriculum among institutions of higher education, which would make it easier for students to move more freely between countries while continuing their education.

This creates an interesting challenge for Russian conservatories, which are justifiably proud of their accomplishments in the technical preparation of musicians. Should they reduce their commitment to applied study in order to make room for other elements called for in the unified curriculum? Stay tuned!

While this conference was taking place, the Conservatory continued its festival of performances based on the theme of the Tsars. A concert presentation of Rimsky-Korsakov's opera The Tsar's Bride crowned the series. This was a particularly apt choice, since Rimsky-Korsakov taught composition and orchestration at the Conservatory and it now bears his name.  The Tsar's Bride was apparently intended by its composer to be a manifesto in favor of bel canto style over Wagner's operatic reforms. Nonetheless, Wagner is like the pink elephant in the room; you can hear his influence popping up every few minutes. The opera was completed in 1898, and its story reads like a combination of Elixir of Love with the recently completed "Cavalleria Rusicana"--two works that really shouldn't be combined. I expected a light comedy along the lines of The Bartered Bride about the Tsar marrying a perky peasant girl. Imagine my surprise when at the end of the opera, everyone was dead!

Despite the unexpected darkness of the scenario, the music is filled with beauty and emotion. It was my first time seeing one of my idols of Russian song, Sergei Leiferkus, who at 64 still has considerable vocal power and stature on stage. Here is a recording of him singing a Rachmaninoff song I have been learning, "I was with her." He was surrounded with other wonderfully talented alumni and students of the Conservatory. Most outstanding was the young mezzo, Olesya Petrova whose voice combined haunting beauty with great power, taking me back to the night I was present for Dolora Zajick's major house debt at the San Francisco Opera. Petrova, who is only 28 and a recent graduate of the Conservatory, took second prize in the famous Tchaikovsky competiton in Moscow. Similarly impressive were Ekaterina Goncharova, Vasiliy Pochapskiy, Yuriy Vlasov, and Egor Nikolaev in the other principal roles. All in all it was a fine finale to the series and a fitting tribute to a great Conservatory.

More Opera Oddities

Mikhailovsky Theatre, St. Petersburg

Since this was the last weekend before work starts to get very intense here, I devoted the bulk of it to seeing as many performances as possible. St Petersburg is offering no shortage of opportunities to see unusual operas.

At the Conservatory on Saturday night, my colleague Victoria Evtodieva participated in another concert in the Festival devoted to works about the Tsars. This one featured excerpts from two French operas nearly a hundred years apart, Grétry’s Pierre le Grand, based on the life of Peter the Great, and Bizet’s Ivan IV, about Ivan the Terrible.

Grétry, whose name would be a perfect answer for a crossword puzzle in a musicology journal, was a French contemporary of Haydn who wrote about 75 operas(!). Bizet, of course, is famous for Carmen and the Pearl Fishers, not to mention that scintillating fluffy omelet of an opera called Dr. Miracle that I directed at Northwestern University and Western Michigan University. Ivan IV does include the aria “Ouvre ton coeur” which Bizet later reused in another opera and is often performed independently with piano.

Victoria, a specialist in 18^th century vocal music, sang an aria and a duet in the Grétry. A number of student, alumni, and faculty performers brought the Bizet to life. Preceding the concert the Director of the School told the stories of the operas, much to the amusement of the audience, since they bear little relationship with the actual historical events.

The performances were delightful, especially a wonderful up and coming soprano named Nadezhda Kucher. She is a student at the Conservatory but thrillingly knocked out a couple of spectacular arias from the Bizet. She sounds like kind of a cross between Judith Blegen and Edita Gruberova. Another casting sensation was the last minute substitution of the director of the opera program for an indisposed student. His performance was vocally and dramatically commanding.

On Sunday I saw two professional opera productions. The first was a version of the Cinderella story by Soviet composer Boris Asafiev. The music was very pleasant, neo-classic stuff, almost a musical, and was intended for kids. It could easily be put on in a college opera workshop production.  This staging was presented at the Mikhailovsky Opera House, which is a beautiful quasi-rococo theatre in the heart of Saint Petersburg just off of Nevsky Prospect. The Mikhailovsky Opera and Ballet company is also known as the Mussorgsky Opera Company, apparently due to a production of Boris Godunov which was a surprise hit.

In the evening I saw two acts of Glinka’s Russlan and Lyudmila at the Mariinsky Theatre. This is really one of the seminal works of Russian opera. Following his Life of the Tsar this work solidified the notion of the viability of Russian national opera, including folk elements and popular stories—this one involving good and evil magicians and lots of magic tricks, including singers flying through the air. This performance was well sung and the sets and costumes were stunning. Surprisingly it was a co-production with the San Francisco Opera, originally directed by my old boss there, Lotfi Mansouri.

Despite the many virtues of the production, including a lyric soprano with a ravishing timbre and a big and funny comic bass playing a part once recorded by Chaliapin, after a couple of acts my capacity to sit and watch exotic operas had finally been reached. I bet you never thought that could happen, did you?

The Mariinsky Theatre

The last two days have been consumed with two things, my new Russian class and the Mariinsky Theatre. Victoria suggested that I attend the Russian class for foreigners at the Conservatory. Just getting there is a bit of a challenge. It is located in side rooms of the Conservatory Auditorium. The Auditorium is laid out like many English and European theatres; that is, to keep the hoi polloi from mingling with the elite, there are separate stairways on the ground floor to the different levels. Since the cross over is on the second floor, we have to go down the stairs to the first floor, then find another stairway up to the third.

At any rate, arriving in the class I spoke briefly with the teacher who asked me a few questions in Russian: why was I here, where am I from, do I have parents in the States. When I responded in Russian that my mother lives in Memphis, she decided that I was way ahead of the beginning class, so she shunted me over to the advanced class. This class was over my head, but I now find that with painstaking preparation (ca. 4 hours) I can look up every word in the chapter and have some idea what is going on. The class meets three days a week between two and three hours apiece.

My fellow students are all young, beautiful ballerinas and sopranos, as well as one pianist, mainly from Korea and the US.  It is nice to know a couple of people who speak English, but there is no opportunity in class of course.

After class on Thursday I bravely hopped over to the Mariinsky Theatre to buy tickets for performances of Tchaikovsky’s most famous operas, Eugene Onegin and The Queen of Spades. When I asked the ticket clerk if she spoke English, she said in Russian “very little.” Thereupon, I spoke a mixture of English and Russian and she spoke Russian. The critical issue is the cost of the tickets. Russian citizens and those working in Russia get a much lower rate, less than half of the ticket price for tourists. I was able to convince her that I was working at the Conservatory, even though they hadn’t yet issued me an ID card. My tickets in the upper boxes cost about $25 apiece.

The Mariinsky Theatre is ornately beautiful, reminding me of a bigger Cuvillés-Theater in Munich. At intermission you can snack on smoked salmon or caviar while waiting for the next act to begin.

Eugene Onegin was just heavenly. The production was traditional and the singers acted and sang well and looked their parts. Onegin was handsome and slender and definitely had the effete “I am just a bit too good for you” attitude that the character requires. The sets were stunning, particularly the second party scene in which 32 dancers—16 men!—filled the stage with period movement. The singers were young and filled their roles well. It was an ensemble cast; both the Onegin and the Tatyana have some international experience, but everyone did a fine job. Much to my amazement and delight, since the opera was in Russian, they had English supertitles. I found that, reading the English, I was able to make out various familiar phrases of Russian.

The Queen of Spades was also traditional, but with a higher powered cast featuring international tenor sensation Vladimir Galouzine whom I have heard at the Lyric Opera of Chicago and the Met. He is still singing brilliantly and his acting has improved; he really through himself into the part of the tortured Hermann. Another standout was the comic baritone who played the part of Tomsky, a part I could sing if only I could carry off a Russian army uniform convincingly.

There was a special thrill to seeing The Queen of Spades in that theater, where it premiered 120 years ago this year. The action also takes place in St. Petersburg in some cases in recognizable locales.

Mariinsky Theatre Official Website

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mariinsky_Theatre

Young Baritone Moroz he sang Onegin

Moroz sings Count's aria on Youtube

Galouzine sings final scene of Queen of Spades

The St. Petersburg Conservatory

My first days at the St. Petersburg Conservatory have been amazing! On Monday, I “team taught” four of Victoria Evtodieva’s students: a lyric tenor, a soubrette soprano, a full lyric mezzo (categorized by the Russian system as a dramatic soprano) and a bass. All had superb voices! They first sang a Russian piece, so I was exposed for the first time to beautiful works by Gretchaninoff, Dargomyshsky and Solofyof-Sedoy.

Then we worked on songs in English, French and German, works by Barber, Bernstein, Bizet, and Schubert, which was where my expertise was, I hope, helpful.

In the meantime, the staff of the conservatory was rushing around on my behalf, trying to arrange the required registration of my passport. One must be registered with the local authorities within three days of arriving. They are still working on a conservatory ID card for me.

I had tea later with Dmitry Chasovitin, the pro-rector of the Conservatory, who will be accompanying me in recital. He is involved in two major events at the moment, an impressive festival of performances at the Conservatory and an international conference of Conservatory administrators. We agreed that we would reconvene after the events are over next week.

Incidentally, the best deal in town is the Conservatory canteen, where I can get complete meals for just a few dollars. Fortunately pointing works there as well, no Russian needed, except for the amount due. I thought I was ordering fish in a cream sauce and ended up with liver and mayonnaise, but it’s all good.

On Tuesday a lovely young musicology student gave me a tour of SPB, expanding my circle a bit from Victoria’s tour. We crossed the Neva over to the War and Maritime museum and also strolled in the garden of Peter the Great’s winter palace, home of the Ermitage museum, which we didn’t enter. The student, whose name is Kira, has chosen a project on the musical compositions of Pauline Viardot. We had lunch in the famous literary cafe known to have been Pushkin's last cafe before getting himself killed in a duel. Dostoevsky also frequented this place. We were practically alone in the restaurant, so actually got excellent food and fine service. There is a grand piano and I understand there are musical performances at dinner time.

That evening, after a little practicing, I sat in on a rehearsal of Victoria and her husband’s baroque music group, and then attended a concert of Russian opera excerpts, performed by the conservatory orchestra and chorus with alumni guest soloists. They began with a few excerpts from Boris Godunov, and then followed with excepts from little known operas by Tchaikovsky, Rimsky-Korsakov, Anton Rubenstein, Sergei Slonimsky, and Andrei Petrov; all of the excerpts were from operas based on the lives of various Russian Tsars. The soloists were excellent and the orchestra and chorus were outstanding. The conductor was the Rector of the Conservatory.

Afterwards, Victoria got permission to bring me to a reception for the performers with the leaders of the Conservatory and other VIPs. There was much snapping of pictures—who knows, I may be in the paper tomorrow. Let’s hope they spell my name right: Карл Ратнер.

Today, wednesday, I had the day off and tried with limited success to run some errands. In the evening I attended Victoria and her husband Vladimir's concert with their baroque music group. The program consisted of songs and instrumental works by Dowland, Byrd, and their English Late Renaissance/Early Baroque contemporaries.

Victoria sang delightfully, and Vladimir held everything together with his jocular but commanding personality/ His violin playing was filled with character and point, not to mention exquisite tone. Altogether a wonderful concert.

St. Petersburg Conservatory website translated by Google

Conservatory English site, much less extensive

The Conservatory Festival including info about the Tsar's concert

This link should include a news report about the Tsar's concert and a small video clip, followed by a commercial...just let the news report go by if you don't speak russian:
http://news.mail.ru/video/4475682/

Numerous video clips of Vladimir's group

Musica Antiqua Russica and Victoria perform Buxtehude

literary cafe

Settling in SPB

The last two days were consumed with moving and with getting to know St. Petersburg. I began with another delicious breakfast in the Moscow hotel, though this time I avoided most of the starchy items. OK, couldn’t resist the boiled potatoes, but skipped the pancakes, etc.

At 8 am my taxi was waiting and off we went. We got there in no time. I had a little problem at the ticket counter. The ticket clerk spoke no English and wanted me to go to the Cashier to pay a fee for my excess baggage. Gradually the message emerged, but at no time did he clearly indicate where the cashier was. Eventually I figured it out, however.

Arriving in St. Petersburg, I was met by my lovely colleague Victoria Evtodieva, her husband Vladimir, and their young son Fyodor. They drove me to a roomy studio apartment very close both to their home and the Conservatory. After giving me some time to unpack, Victoria took me on a walk around the neighborhood, showing me good places to shop and to eat. At the local farmers’ market she showed me how to negotiate with the merchants over the quality of the pears.  Oddly, you do not pick your own produce but ask the vendors for the quantity you want. Then when they give them to you, you have to make sure you are not getting damaged goods.

Later that night I went to the local supermarket and purchased some more groceries. The supermarket is the salvation of a person who has difficulty speaking the language. There is plenty of everything and you just put it into the basket without having to figure out the right names for things. Thrillingly, next to the supermarket is the authorized Mac dealer! Good to know in a pinch.

After a spotty night’s sleep—I was a bit too smug too soon about getting over jet lag—Victoria came over again and took me on a walking tour of the essence of St. Petersburg. We went to the Admiralty, the Neva river, the Winter Palace/Ermitage (the H is only in the French version and of course isn’t pronounced in French either), Nevsky prospect, Gastiny Dvor shopping center, and a variety of churches and cathedrals. Victoria also helped me purchase a wireless modem for the computer—instant internet access wherever you are.

She left me at home to do a little practicing and then had me over for a late evening cup of tea at her home. She has a spacious living room in which she rehearses chamber music with her colleagues. She is preparing for two concerts this week of baroque/early classical music, which is one of her specialties and that of her husband, an accomplished violinist, who performs this repertory almost exclusively.

She served me some bouillon with some nice chunks of beef added, a delicious salad, and a delicious piece of home baked apple cake. A perfect end to the day.

History of the main square near my apartment

Neva River

Enjoying Moscow

Today was truly an incredibly exciting day, beginning with one of the best breakfasts I have had in any hotel. My favorites were the vegetables, greens, slaw, beets, etc, with cold cuts and sausage and deliciously prepared kasha. (I don’t know why it never came out that way when I made it.)

Then I went right into a meeting followed by seven hours of interviews of Russian students and researchers competing for Fulbright scholarships to the United States.

These young people, the best 130 of 700 initial candidates, showed extraordinary intelligence and sheer courage. Some of them traveled thousands of miles—remember that Russia is much bigger than the United States—to undergo an interview entirely in English in which they had to explain often complex scientific projects in clear layman’s terms. Imagine having to spend 15 minutes trying to describe computer analysis of electrocardiograms in Russian clearly enough that a music teacher could understand it. Suffice it to say, that if I had had to do that to get my Fulbright, I would not be here.

At any rate it was thrilling to meet 14 of these future leaders of medicine, science, linguistics, and government. Oh, and one candidate had a project to study American marketing of funeral homes. She said she had seen every episode of Six Feet Under.

In the evening, I managed to take the Metro downtown and had a whirlwind self-led foot tour of the major sights of central Moscow: The outside of the Kremlin, Alexander Garden, State History Museum (again, only from the outside), Red Square, Lenin’s Mausoleum, St. Basil’s Cathedral, the ritzy Gum shopping center (from the inside), Revolution Square, the Bolshoi Theater, Tverskaya Street, and back to my train. As I entered the station, I waved to the apparently beautiful “Christ the Savior” Cathedral in the distance, but could not walk another step.

When I got back to the hotel, I discovered that I am allergic to the new socks I bought.

St. Basil's Cathedral

Bolshoi Theatre

First Day in Russia

Well, today I crossed the Red Sea and entered the Promised Land. The days and weeks leading up to my departure had been hectic. I gradually had to give up goal after goal and just focus on actually making it to Russia. I finally got my “diplomatic pouch” of books, music, and educational materials for the St. Petersburg Conservatory off yesterday. It won’t arrive in St. Petersburg for several weeks. I only slept a few hours the night before departure. I had to focus on going through my remaining music and papers.

The flight was relatively uneventful. I sat next to a ravishing Russian beauty, as delightful as she is lovely, and her young daughter, going home to visit the grandmother in Moscow. I tried out a few words of Russian, but we ended up speaking English most of the trip. I slept little, and eventually caved in and watched the series of movies that appeared in escalating order of violence as the night wore on. After each movie, passengers leapt from their seats to use the restrooms and to socialize noisily, so at just the point when one might roll over and go to sleep, it was impossible.

Arriving in Moscow, I had no difficulties in customs. A policeman was shocked by the amount of luggage I had for one person (two large bags, a laptop, and a small carryon of sheet music and papers), but ultimately seemed to recognize that examining my bags would be both tiresome and pointless. There are a few advantages to looking like an agreeable vanilla pudding.

Past customs there was a taxi driver with the word “Fulbright” on a piece of cardboard. Besides Russian, as it turns out, he spoke German decently and a few words of English. So we conversed in a curious mixture of the three languages. Arriving at the hotel, I had to drag my suitcases up multiple steps. No employee of this hotel spoke—or admitted to speaking—English, and indeed, the most English that escaped their lips was the price of something.

This was particularly disconcerting because all in all I saw six or seven different employees, each of which seemed to be looking for my reservation in the monitors, typed repeated entries, and then clucked over what appeared on their screens, sharing the results with their fellows and murmuring ominously.

After visits to a second office—with more typing, looking, and murmuring—and a return to the first, I was issued a room, whereupon they asked for my credit card. I tried to explain that the Fulbright organization was paying for the room. But the word “Fulbright” evoked not the slightest spark of recognition, despite the fact that there should be numerous Fulbrighters interviewing and being inverviewed at that hotel. I tried various possible Russian pronunciations—FulBRIGHT, FulBRAYT—but still nothing. Eventually they gave me my key card and indicated that we would work payment out later. As it turned out, the Fulbright organization does not use the word "Fulbright" in Russia.

I had both lunch and dinner in the hotel café. The hostess/waitress was truly welcoming and helpful. There was wireless internet in the café for ten cents a minute, but reception was spotty and somewhat difficult to get going. I had a very exotic lunch: a tongue salad (covered in mayonnaise, most of which I ladled off) with a bowl of a beef and vegetable soup. Dinner was a thoroughly delicious piece of salmon.

Ultimately as the day ended, I had not encountered a single Moscovite who spoke a whole sentence of English, including the customs official (ok, I didn’t really try her), the taxi driver, seven hotel clerks, a porter, a convenience store clerk, a newspaper vendor, nor the hostess, waitress, or cook in the restaurant. So lesson 1: The idea that English is the universal language is a MYTH.

Sheremetyevo_International_Airport

Voskhod Hotel