| Page 3 of 3 < |
MUSIC
Bettye LaVette
  The 9:30 club crowd went nuts when Damian Marley sang his dad's songs. (Universal) |
"Iam a very fortunate old woman," declared soul singer Bettye LaVette at the State Theatre on Thursday night. "While the rumors of my demise have been circulating, I am back!" Indeed, LaVette showed no indication of her long absence from touring: Her animated performance belied her nearly 60 years of age as she strutted, gyrated and sashayed back and forth across the stage.
LaVette didn't always stay so active: A cover of Dolly Parton's "Little Sparrow" displayed her superb vocal control as she balanced ardent howls with moments of delicate restraint. She even dropped to sit cross-legged to croon the mellow "Just Say So." But most often, LaVette's singing style was dramatic.
Her throaty voice at times overpowered her understated band: An overly soulful interpretation of Fiona Apple's "Sleep to Dream" steamrolled over many of the subtle melodies of the original. But LaVette found her most powerful moment when she stood alone. She closed the show with an a cappella version of Sinead O'Connor's "I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got," delivering as much emotion in the pauses as in her pitch-perfect, expressive vocals.
-- Catherine P. Lewis
Wolfgang Holzmair
Baritone Wolfgang Holzmair has a knack for ferreting out little known German art songs and presenting them in the most listener-friendly manner. His program at the Austrian Embassy on Thursday -- accompanied with a light touch and understated wit by pianist Russell Ryan -- unearthed some particularly rewarding rarities.
The three composers represented -- all Austrian refugees from Hitler who made new lives for themselves in the United States -- wrote music that hinted at other composers, but mostly spoke with unique voices. Songs by Franz Mittler (who became an arranger at Columbia Records) brought the occasional whiff of Kurt Weill, while possessing an off-the-cuff directness that well served texts by cartoonist Wilhelm Busch and political monologist Karl Krauss.
Like many of his fellow Hollywood film composers, Eric Zeisl also wrote concert works. Many of his Mahler-tinged songs on Holzmair's program featured restless, undulating accompaniments that lent words by Nietzsche, Eichendorff and Lessing (among others) an almost obsessive single-mindedness. Mittler and Zeisl followed in the footsteps of traditionally tonal predecessors, but neither came close to the complete embrace of 19th-century lyricism found in the lushly Brahmsian settings of Rilke by self-taught, part-time composer Robert Furstenthal -- reactionary, sure, but gorgeous.
Holzmair, with his warm amber sound, crystal-clear diction and almost conversationally natural way with phrasing, is the most engaging of lieder singers. His affection for this material was palpable, and his beautifully turned delivery was nearly flawless.
-- Joe Banno