For the third time in two years, Paolo Gavanelli paraded his considerable armoury of vocal and dramatic skills. The Italian baritone's instrument was as sharply focused as before, and his command of expansive phrasing, linear awareness and dynamic control was every bit as assured.
Barry's Tea Opera Gala: Paolo Gavanelli with Maurizio Saltarin,
National Concert Hall, Dublin
At the National Concert Hall on Sunday, What was different this time was a greater degree of covering of the highest notes, which he did while in no way lessening their impact. The baritone's programme concentrated on the operas of Verdi, with excursions into Bellini, Donizetti and Leoncavallo, the latter represented by a fervent rendering of Cascart's love song from Zazà. And he finished with his usual gag-filled rendering of Figaro's Largo
Al factotum.
Throughout, Gavanelli exploited his facility for making clear distinctions between the varied emotions of his characters. His Germont was different from his Renato, which in turn was different
from his Ford, and so on. And all of this dramatic credibility was achieved by adept vocal colouring and use of light and shade.
Maurizio Saltarin, by comparison, was a one-dynamic performer who delivered everything mezzo forte. The Italian
tenor's spinto technique, which comes with clarion high Bs, suited the short and generally tenor-proof arias from Puccini's Tosca, Madama Butterfly and Turandot.
He was agreeably plangent in Macduff's lament from Verdi's Macbeth and ringingly angry in the extended sabre-rattling duet from La Forza Del Destino, but he nearly came to grief on the high phrases of a crudely abridged friendship duet from the same composer's Don Carlo.
Colman Pearse, conducting the Pro Arte Orchestra, was an authoritative accompanist who also directed sparkling performances of orchestral pieces by Rossini, Smetana and Bizet. Alan Smale drew ravishing tone from his violin in the meditation from Massenet's Thaïs. - John Allen
At City Hall, Cork, on Saturday.
Kelemen, Bogányi, Law Society, Dublin.
Beethoven - Sonata In C Minor Op 30 No 2. Brahms - Violin Sonata In D Minor Op 108. Bartók - Solo Violin Sonata; Rhapsody No 2
Saturday night's concert was the first of two in a weekend mini-festival presented by the recently formed Association of Music Lovers.
This was formerly Limerick Music Association, which John Ruddock, its founder wound down in 2003 after 38 years. The change spells an end to the association's promotion of chamber music in Limerick, allowing the ageless and indefatigable Ruddock, now living in Dalkey, to concentrate his energy and resources on Dublin.
One thing that hasn't changed is Ruddock's discerning ear for young talent. The Hungarian violinist Barnabas
Kelemen was paying his fourth visit to Ireland, this time en route to New York, where he will repeat his Dublin programme at Carnegie Hall, part of his prize for winning the 2002 Indianapolis Violin Competition.
Kelemen combines a powerful and extrovert playing manner with a razor-sharp purity of tone that remains extraordinarily consistent from the softest whisper to the most forceful declamation. He demonstrated this in music that ranged from the fiery drama that opens Beethoven's C minor sonata to the eerie stillness of the "night music" in the middle of Bartók's Sonata for Solo Violin.
The Bartók's severe contrapuntal demands revealed the full wealth of Kelemen's technical facility. The second-movement fugue's four voices - one more than Bach ever wrote for solo violin - posed no difficulties.
Overall, it was his expressive illumination of this rarely performed and virtuosic masterpiece that made it the evening's highlight.
Another, lighter side to Kelemen's personality was evident in the subtle irreverence of the third-movement scherzo in the Beethoven and in the folk-laced dancing of Bartók's Second Rhapsody, music that the violinist packed with robust life and energy.
In this and throughout he was matched for spirit and intensity by the pianist. - Michael Dungan
Gergely Bogányi. Browner, RTÉCO/Wagner Helix, Dublin
Webern - Concerto Op 24. Mahler - Rückert Lieder. Beethoven - Symphony No 5
This concert epitomised the risky yet healthy ambition of the RTÉ Concert Orchestra's Tales from Vienna series. Conductor Laurent Wagner resisted the temptations to extremity offered by the reputation and power of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. Although the first movement was fast it was not hard driven, because of tight articulation and because the playing did not strive too much.
Like the whole symphony, the last movement brimmed with rhythmic energy, with power attained through controlled abandon. Especially in the woodwind and brass, you heard details that are usually smothered, whatever the size of the orchestra's string section - and you could hear why they are there. It was a good example of the familiar made new.
The concert opened with Webern's Concerto Op 24, which dates from 1931-34. For this performance it had been intended that Wagner would direct from the piano. Perhaps that was one ambition too far, for Wagner took his usual place on the podium and the prominent piano part was played by Rachel Quinn.
The nine players have their work cut out, especially in making structured shape
from a concentrated discourse of terse fragments.
Although this work represents its composer as the prophet of post-war modernism, playing it in that light - jagged and pointillistic - misses much of its beauty. So it was refreshing to hear this creditable performance coloured with a healthy dose of late-romantic expression.
Mahler's Rückert Lieder might be more familiar than the Webern. This performance was far from routine or traditional, however. Alison Browner's singing was superb. There was none of the morbid, navel-gazing misery that seems endemic to performances of this composer's songs. The vocal part was an extension of the delicate orchestral sounds, a quiet exploration that had as much ecstasy as sorrow.
Series concludes on Saturday at the Helix, Dublin, with the RTÉCO and National Chamber Choir in music by Haydn, Mozart, Schubert and Schoenberg - Martin Adams
