CLASSICAL MUSIC

Monday, March 3, 2008

Lawrence Brownlee

When Lawrence Brownlee introduced a set of Italian songs halfway through his recital at the Jewish Community Center of Greater Washington on Saturday night, he explained that a recording of the Three Tenors was one of the first to inspire him, though he was no Pavarotti or Carreras.

"Better!" an audience member called out. Though rankings are debatable, Brownlee earned himself a place in the top tier of tenors with a dramatic rendition of Vincenzo de Crescenzo's "Rondine al nido" and with virtuosic songs and arias throughout the evening.

A light Rossini singer, he was at his best in that composer's "Cessa di pi¿ resistere," an aria often left out of "The Barber of Seville" because of its difficulty. Unlike other performers of this repertoire who master the fireworks despite bland or pale timbres, Brownlee's compact voice seemed to be saturated with warmth, so that his sustained notes were almost always as magnificent as his acrobatics. Even the formidable nine high C's of "Ah! mes amis," from Donizetti's "La Fille du Regiment," sounded easy and vibrant. In these bel canto works especially, Justina Lee provided first-rate accompaniment for Brownlee, inducing audience giggles with the playful Rossini.

Brownlee exudes dignity -- usually, but not always, an asset. In "Misero! O sogno, O son desto?," a concert aria about separation from a lover, he demonstrated an uncommon affinity for Mozart, with intelligent phrasing and natural elegance. Most of a set of spirituals and five sensual Duparc songs, however, seemed straitlaced and musically vague; a lack of translations in the program didn't help.

The program will be repeated tonight at 8.

-- Ronni Reich

Russian Chamber Art Society

The Russian Chamber Art Society's recital on Saturday at the Lyceum in Alexandria did a fine job of showcasing three vocal-competition-winning opera singers and provided a primer in the beauties of seldom-heard Russian art songs -- even if the evening ultimately suffered from an imbalance of artists, material and venue.

Mezzo Olesya Petrova, tenor Stanislav Leontiev and baritone Roman Burdenko all possess what might be deemed stereotypical Russian voices -- loud, emotive, laser-focused at the top and plush at the bottom. But each was distinctive, with Leontiev's slightly nasal tone lending incisiveness to his songs, Burdenko connecting palpably to the emotion in his music, and Petrova exuding the confidence, detailed acting and thrillingly dark timbre that suggest a star in the making. (Her rendition of Valery Gavrilin's stark, hypnotically repetitive "Sufferings" was one of the most moving musico-dramatic performances I've heard all season.)

Much of the music -- songs by, among others, Dargomyzhsky, Rubinstein, Shostakovich and a surprisingly Schubertian-sounding Glinka -- was indeed revelatory, not to mention gorgeous. But the singers had trouble modulating their big voices (with the exception of a few tenderly phrased tenor-baritone duets), steamrolling through these often fragile songs and singing as if they were onstage at the Kirov rather than in the acoustically intimate Lyceum. Thrilling work, to be sure (especially as supported by pianist Elena Gaudasinskaya's intense and rhapsodic playing), but perhaps it was too much of a good thing.

-- Joe Banno

Baltimore Symphony Orchestra

It was gratifying, in this cynical age, to hear a Strathmore Hall audience respond to the old-school slapstick and Victorian sentimentality in Charlie Chaplin's 1931 film "City Lights" with waves of laughter and (in that sublime final scene) moist eyes and sniffles.

Of course, "City Lights" is a masterpiece of pitch-perfect comic timing and frank emotion. What might have surprised some in the audience was Chaplin's own highly accomplished musical score, which arranger Arthur Johnston orchestrated for the film's soundtrack. At Friday's Strathmore screening, Marin Alsop led the Baltimore Symphony in a live rendering of Chaplin's music.

The program notes quote Chaplin as stating, "Everything I do is a dance," and it's no surprise that his score here is suffused with dance rhythms (salon waltzes, frenetic Jazz Age beats, Latin-tinged society-orchestra fare) all dressed in accessible, instantly memorable melodies. Chase sequences are accompanied by chugging Vivaldian figures; comic moments are pointed up with siren whistles, kazoos and the like; and when the storyline turns poignant, the music shifts to the kind of yearning, string-heavy writing that wouldn't be out of place in an Italian verismo opera. And it all works like a dream.

Alsop's conducting was scrupulous with Chaplin's carefully timed cues, and the BSO delivered lush tone, a breezy boulevard manner and just the right lascivious growl in the brass for the speakeasy sequences. This was music worth hearing even if the screen were dark.

-- Joe Banno