danajohnhill.org

Some time ago–months, at least–I was contacted by a kind member of the faculty of the UF College of Music, Dr. Anthony Offerle, who asked if I’d narrate the Spring Opera Gala, a scholarship fund-raiser held at the University Auditorium (yes, the same “don’t tase me, bro” landmark). He’s been very nice to me in the past, so, of course, I agreed. But as the date approached I got to feeling anxious about it. It wasn’t that I was nervous about the public speaking; that doesn’t bother me at all. Rather, it was the thought that any blunder I might make could reflect badly on him, or embarrass the students performing.

So, with the dress rehearsal Sunday afternoon I was able to get a feel of how the production would go, and it was very helpful. My job was to introduce each of the fifteen or so pieces of music, and the performers thereof. It would be not unlike what I do every day on the radio, only this would be scripted and before a live audience. I wore my charcoal suit, and arrived just before two o’clock in the rain. The auditorium was open and mostly empty but for some crew setting up chairs on stage. But before long we were going through the program, and the students were practicing their entrances and exits. I found myself getting hung up on some awkward phrasing in the text, but I fixed it up before the performance.

I needn’t have feared ruining everything. Aside from speaking a little too fast at the beginning, I didn’t stumble at all, though I did require the use of the script, since there was no way I could have memorized every line. And I found the whole thing to be fun, especially the energy of a live event, and the whirlwind of backstage activity. It’s like a beehive in the wings, and behind the scenes were students getting into costume, and waiting to go on. And some of these students were very talented. There was a Ukrainian pianist named Anastasiya Naplekova who played Liszt’s Rigoletto Paraphrase with an energy and technical brilliance that was astonishing. Then, in the Act III quartet on which Liszt’s transcription is based, the soprano singing Gilda was excellent. The tenor singing the Duke was perhaps overparted for Verdi, but his Tamino in the Act I quintet from Die Zauberflöte was perfect. He’s going to have a career. The drei Damen were well matched vocally. There was a Japanese student named Risa Iguchi who played Sarasate’s Carmen Fantasy, a performance made more impressive by the fact that her accompanist was her tiny 15-year old sister, Mona. There were dozens of choristers wearing colorful kimonos twirling parasols waiting to take the stage for a preview of the upcoming Mikado production at the Constans Theater. I even got to introduce a gentleman named Carroll Bailey, a 1936 UF graduate who won a bronze star in WWII, and later wrote an opera called De Soto, the rights to which he has donated to the university. Another high point, so to speak, was the coloratura soprano who sang the Queen of the Night’s Act I aria from The Magic Flute with seeming felicity, even squarely hitting the high F. Amazing.

Dr. Offerle did a really wonderful job organizing the whole affair, and I understand the school raised a lot of money, since tickets to the event were quite expensive, and they found some great sponsorship. The proceeds fund scholarships, and many of the performers are recipients of the self-same scholarships, so, the money is being well-spent. I was glad to be involved.

In a post from last fall, I commented on the Metropolitan Opera’s new production of Lucia di Lammermoor, staring Natalie Dessay. The pictures published in the New York Times showed it to be a wonderful looking affair, with costumes updated to the 19th Century. Well, the opera is at last being broadcast live this afternoon, and I am able to hear it, and the authentic glass armonica being used–at Ms. Dessay’s request–in the last act is eerie. What a weird instrument.

On a sad note, during my Pre-Opera Program today I paid tribute to tenor Giuseppe di Stefano who died earlier this week at age 86. Back in 2004 he had been attacked by robbers at his home in Kenya, leaving him paralyzed. I played selections from his recordings of Rigoletto and Puritani, and a complete Pagliacci, which was wonderful in the old-style you never hear any more. As I wrote when Pavarotti died, Di Stefano’s passing would be another in a sad but steady procession of opera royalty.

On my show Saturday afternoon I brought out a recording I bought long ago, but don’t recall ever giving a good listen: Matthias Goerne and Graham Johnson’s Winterreise, D. 911 by Franz Schubert. It is a highly praised reading of what may be the greatest of all song cycles (though I am partial to Schumann’s Dichterliebe, by virtue of the Heine texts).

Hyperion, a British label, has simultaneously done fans of Lieder a tremendous service and disservice with their astonishingly comprehensive Schubert Edition, of which this Winterreise is Volume 30. The great service is the consistently high quality of musicianship and production, and simply astonishing level of scholarship and research displayed in the lavish documentation (this volume includes a 111 page booklet with illustrations, texts, translations and an essay on every last song). The disservice is the tragically high price, which is understandable given the circumstances. But when the whole package is as good as it is, the expense of it all is that much more heartbreaking, especially for those wishing to collect the entire 37 CD series. (They have been gathered together in a massive box, but then then a separate book must also be purchased.)

I doubt this recording, good as it is, could ever replace those by Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau for me–there is simply no more beautiful male voice than his–but if somebody was a fan of art song, and already had a Fischer-Dieskau/Gerald Moore version on their shelf, I’d strongly recommend Goerne/Johnson. Even if the singing weren’t as good as it is, it’d be worth the $23 for the notes alone.

Meanwhile, if you have never heard Schubert’s Winterreise, get thee to Wikipedia, and read the very informative synopsis of the songs, as they describe a dejected lover’s winter journey and sadness.

UPDATE:  I just received the following email:

Hi, I was listening to 89.1 today around noon and I was just wondering
who the singer was. He was singing german songs and just had the most
lovely voice. I’ve just got to know who he is!  Jessica.

Well, there you go.

Mercy, it was cold today.  I don’t think the high temperature reached 50 degrees.  That’s bad enough, but coupled with the high winds and extremely low humidity, my hands and nose were stinging by the time I reached work this morning.

Meanwhile, when I got up at seven o’clock the temperature was in the 20s, and there was ice covering the IFAS citrus grove on campus.  Let’s hope this one of very few really cold spells we get this winter.

Today was my mandatory $35 “Preview” at the University of Florida.  The morning was spent in sessions at the Reitz Union Grand Ballroom.  A breakfast was promised, but, alas, it consisted of bad-tasting muffins and equally uninspiring orange juice.  Also, much too much time was wasted covering topics that any human being capable of bathing his or her self–much less be accepted at a prestigious university–ought to have a firm grasp of already.  I read the newspaper.

Later, while others broke off into groups for presentations about joining ROTC, preparing for law school, finding off-campus housing, or taking walking tour of campus, I stepped across the lawn and got some work done at the station for an hour.  I’ve worked on campus for over seven years, driving over 20,000 miles (not an exaggeration; I used to keep a vehicle log).  If I don’t know where something is at this point, I probably don’t need to go there.

After lunch with Mrs. Hill, I attended the actual useful portion of the orientation, in which staff from the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences explain some of the ins and outs of the program.  We all filled out pieces of yellow paper with our names and UF ID numbers, and an advisor went off and removed the holds that had prevented all us from registering for classes up to that point.  Then it was off to Turlington Hall to meet with the advisors from the English Department, who all had excellent diction.  I even chatted a bit with some of my fellow English majors.  I registered for a course called “Shakespearean Rhetoric”, but, lamentably, the children’s literature course was full.

So, barring some epic, Brechtian disaster, I become a student of the University of Florida on January 7, 2008.  Huzzah!