An arresting Salome at the Royal Opera

It has been over 10 years since the Royal Opera staged Salome (the last time I saw it in 1997, it was Bryn Terfel as John the Baptist and Catherine Malfitano singing the title role). One forgets how hard it is to stage this work - no overture, run time of just over 90 minutes, with not a lot of action on stage except the dance.

I needn't to have worried - this new production by David McVicar , design by Es Devlin and conducted by Phillippe Jordan was arresting from start to finish. The two-level stage with a posh upstairs and a lavatorial downstairs gave much visual interest. The cast had lots of exciting new blood who gave a fantastic performance: Michael Volle sang John the Baptist and Nadja Michael sang the title role viscerally, with Duncan Meadows as the naked adonis-executioner. David McVicar's production let the inter-character dynamic and underlying psychological tension unfold along with the music. Phillippe Jordan kept the pace and excitement going through out in the jam-packed pit (Strauss wrote Salome for a Wagnerian-size orchestra). Of course, Strauss's lush orchestration and exotice textures did the rest of the work!

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Hearing the Berlin Philharmonic at the Philharmonie

Those of us London-centric folks easily forget there are great concert halls in other parts of the world. I remember as a young kid buying DG LPs with von Karajan on the front cover conducting the Berlin Philharmonic. So as my first visit to the city, a visit to the Philharmonie to listen to the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra was a must. Ivan Fisher started the evening's concert with Haydn Symphony 88. A light and delightful work. As I'd expected, the acoustic of the hall was amazing - probably a good 2.5 second of reverberation - and much more generous than the Royal Festival Hall in London. The strings sounded sweet and the timpani came through clearly with definition. The audience was then treated to Béla Bartók's Seven Pieces for Choir and Chamber Orchestra: the Berlin Phil reduced in size occupying only half of the stage while the Netherlands Youth Choir took the other half. These young performers (all female) sang in Hungarian from memory - not easy at all - and rea...

Will the swish looking Princi become the hottest thing on Wardour St?

This site on Wardour Street in Soho had seen many bars and restaurants come and go. The latest occupant is Princi, an up market Italian bakery brought to London by Alan Yau (of Hakkasan, Yauatcha fame). Natural stones, polished brass and water reflections dominate. The long communal tables ( de rigeur for any Soho eatery), leather upholstered chairs and perfect lighting make this a stylish choice for a slice of cake (made from organic "00" flour) and a caffé machiato from the Italian barista (yes he is, I talked to him in Italian). They seem to have an alcohol licence - so perfect for an early evening spritz , or a late evening caffé correto . The downside is that this is a self-service joint. While everything is stylishly done, all eating implements are disposable. So never mind the side plate.

Fidelio at the Royal Opera

Fidelio comes around to the Royal Opera only once in a while. With Lise Davidsen as Leonore, there was much to look forward to. The overture sounded firm at the beginning, but there were minor ensemble issues - the strings just didn't sound tight enough. Lise Davidsen was phenomenal. From the "fake" flirting with Marzelline (sung by Amanda Forsythe), "man to man" talk with Meister Rocco (sung by Georg Zeppenfeld) to the true Leonore in emotional turmoil - whe tackled them all with gusto. Her stature and firm voice also added further conviction to the role, but never too forthright to be forced. We were lured in the a sense of security with the naturalistic stage set reminicent of Figaro in Act I. That was all knocked back with Act II - Florestan was on a stone island surrounded by a non-descript chorus sitting down in front of a doorway - all starkly lit. The stage set bore no relation to the scenerary to Act I. Set and costume designer Rainer Sellmaier ...

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