Robert Schumann and Richard Wagner had many things in common and many convergent points between them. But also many divergent ones. Uniting them with the Rhine river as a common link is a good idea, because the fluvial knife that cuts a good part of Germany was the primary motive for Schumann's third (chronologically fourth and last) symphony, while Wagner begins the cycle The Ring of the Nibelung with a prologue (Das Rheingold), the first scene of which takes place precisely at the bottom of the aforementioned river. In the case of the concert at the Palau de la Música, however, it was the final scene of the first day (Die Walküre) that occupied the second part.However, and unfortunately, what could have been a splendid end-of-season party for Palau 100 was left unfinished. We expected a lot from an orchestra that has set the bar very high in other concerts and recordings, with or without the baton of the one who on Wednesday occupied the podium in the modernist auditorium: an Iván Fischer somewhat disheveled, without many ideas and who led a Renana with an uncertain start and a finish without pain or glory. And the peculiar arrangement of the strings (first violins and cellos on the left, violas and second violins on the right, and double basses at the back) did not have the imaginative flair that many of us expected in service of Schumann's magnificent symphony.And the second part disappointed due to the woody voice of Hanno Müller-Brachmann, a singer with more than sufficient volume and projection but with changing colors, scarce expressiveness, and zero authority in the role of Wotan, who demands more roundness and vocal presence. Fortunately, soprano Ingela Brimberg's Brünnhilde had the sufficient metal that the Valkyrie demands, in a finale of the act that is a cocktail of feelings between father and daughter before she ends up asleep on a rock surrounded by fire.Nor did the orchestra here seem particularly involved in terms of narrativity and theatricality, despite the good level of the different sections (especially the velvety strings and the punchy brass), but without Fischer's direction adding much to it.By the way, it would be appreciated if a scene like this, long and dense, had the corresponding subtitles, so that Wagner's text would be understandable to everyone. Also for the Wagnerians who, in Barcelona, are legion.

Golden clasp for the 42nd season of Ibercamera, with an absolute full house at L'Auditori to hear the almost centenarian (in 2027 it will celebrate a century of life) Gürzenich Orchestra of Cologne, conducted by the Colombian Andrés Orozco-Estrada.

Despite the importance of the two “classical” works scheduled for the weekend at L’Auditori (Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto and Bruckner's Third Symphony), the relevance and where to place the emphasis is on the premiere of Domèstica maragda, with text by Gemma Casamajó Solé and music by the osonenca Helena Cánovas. It was the culmination of the Canta amb l’OBC project, which brought together 170 non-professional singers and the participation of the Coral Sant Jordi. An event both grand and small: grand for the achievement of the project and the magnitude of the work, with a vocal ensemble arranged on stage and on the sides of the first floor and an immense orchestra. And small for the brevity of the piece (which is less than 10 minutes) and because this is also a small country, which diminishes its creators with the disdain that Cánovas's composition has been subjected to. And it is that, beyond the quality of the piece (more musical than literary), projects of this nature should deserve more attention. From the media and from attendees, a good part of whom —at least in the stalls— did not enter until the Mendelssohn concert began.

In case it wasn't clear from the title of this review: take note of the name Julie Roset, a young French soprano of only 29 years old who has already done many things in the world of opera (for example, winning the 2023 Operalia edition) and has participated in shows directed by some of the best conductors of the moment.Her debut in Catalonia has been possible thanks to this season's edition of the Lied Festival Life Victoria – which concludes its journey on May 26 with a recital by Simon Keenlyside and Malcolm Martineau – and within the modernist complex of the Hospital de Sant Pau. Alongside the pianistic wisdom of Susan Manoff (extraordinary in La fille aux cheveux de lin by Debussy and in Le banc songeur by Han), the French singer offered a recital that was pure filigree, especially for introducing us to pieces by composers little or not at all showcased among us, such as Charles Koechlin, Manuel Rosenthal, Louis Beydts, Mel Bonis, and, above all, the exquisite Isabelle Aboulker. To these names were added works by much more famous musicians in the style of Poulenc, Enescu, Lili Boulanger, and the already mentioned Han and Debussy.The French mélodie (equivalent to the German Lied) requires a pure singing style, with impeccable phrasing and, above all, chromatic iridescences to adorn each phrase, each word, each syllable, and each letter in order to give expressive emphasis and precise colors to what is being interpreted. In her outrageously young age, Julie Roset demonstrates mastery of all these tools, essential for a successful performance.Roset, moreover, stands out as a communicative, expressive, and even theatrical artist in pieces like the fun La princesse aux petits pois by Alboulker, a composer who makes it very difficult with the staccato notes, and the high notes of Je t’aime, or in the intervallic leaps of L’inconstante. A true discovery is the music of this artist, the only living one (she was born in 1938) among the composers for a difficult and demanding program for the performer, but very well received by the attending audience.It will be necessary to follow Roset's career, to listen to her in larger venues, in operatic performances and with varied repertoires. I would not be at all surprised if we heard from her, a lot and very well. Her presentation in Barcelona could not have been better crafted.

In his reconstructive pursuit of past spaces and atmospheres, Jordi Savall opted in Monday's concert at L’Auditori for the evocation of the Ospedale della Pietà, a Venetian charitable institution dating back to the 13th century which, between the 17th and 18th centuries, experienced one of the most splendid moments in its musical history. Antonio Vivaldi worked there between 1703 and 1740, and inevitably left his very personal mark, in addition to a numerous catalog of sacred and profane compositions.For the occasion, Savall has assembled a female orchestra, Les Musiciennes des Nations, with Lina Tur Bonet from Ibiza as concertmaster and soloist. To the instrumental ensemble, we must add the women members of La Capella Reial de Catalunya, who, with good skill and thanks to the always wise preparation of Lluís Vilamajó, presented two choral pieces by Vivaldi: the Magnificat in G minor and the celebrated Gloria in D major, in this case only for female voices, and which did not make us miss the four-part mixed version.Lina Tur Bonet exhibited a sinuous and immaculate phrasing in the second of the violin concertos (La Stravaganza, from opus 4), after during the Magnificat she had had a problem when a string broke from the first music stand. Something strange was happening, because during the performance of the first of the concertos (the very brilliant Concerto per la solennità di San Lorenzo) Tur did not seem very comfortable and the tuning did not always seem accurate, despite the brilliant and long cadenza of the first movement. Savall took advantage of the string change to explain the sonic difference between metal strings and gut strings, which ended up winning over the audience (something habitual with the master from Igualada, always a good communicator).Before, vocal rigor and neatness took over the Magnificat performed in the solo parts —as would happen with the Gloria— by singers from La Capella Reial. The choral ensemble excelled in truly anthological passages, such as the end of the Et misericordia eius and the entire Fecit potentiam.The good construction of the choral works, the vocal-instrumental conjunction and the brilliance of Vivaldi's music were the ingredients of a good night of Venetian music, well served by most illustrious ambassadors.

With Jules Massenet's Werther one must tread carefully, because too much sweetness can cause chronic diabetes in listeners. But too much coldness can also be counterproductive, because the passionate motives that run through the opera must have the right emotional and expressive force to convey the misfortunes of the title character, inspired by Goethe's epistolary novel. Musical director Henrik Nánási opts at the Liceu for an amorphous reading, without a clear vision of the score and with uneven results, despite the good performance of the titular orchestra and the members of the Cor Vivaldi Petits Cantors de Catalunya.Vocally, the opera is also of maximum demand for the three protagonists: Werther, Charlotte, and Sophie. There was expectation to see at the Rambla theatre the debut of Xabier Anduaga in the role that gives its name to the work, which he resolved with more than enough means: sinuous phrasing, well worked, generous emission, and impeccable pronunciation. However, the Basque tenor is still treading carefully. And it is normal for it to be so, which makes us think that after two or three more productions he will end up being a reference Werther.The German mezzo-soprano Kristina Stanek tackled the role of Charlotte with absolute command of the dramatic and musical situation. The letter aria was one of the highlights of the evening, alongside the final scene with a dying Werther. Beside her, Sofía Esparza's Sophie spread beauty in all directions, without falling into the portrayal of the sun-drenched turnip with which some sopranos resolve this very significant role and which Christoph Loy's production intelligently reinforces.Albert de David Oller was insufficient, with an impersonal timbre and color and a frayed emission. Stefano Palatchi showed ample experience in the service of the mayor, and there was good chemistry and a just sense of comedy from two seasoned Liceu singers who should have more presence on the Rambla stage, Josep Fadó (Schmidt) and Enric Martínez-Castignani (Johann).The production signed by Christoph Loy and premiered a year ago at La Scala in Milan works very well the portrayal of characters and reinforces their sharp psychology, with well-resolved scenes, such as the link between the third and fourth acts: not only does Werther die, but Albert's world also collapses, which is shown in a brilliant coup de théâtre. Johannes Leiacker's cold but efficient scenography with the wall that separates two worlds plays a fundamental role on a stage well lit by Roland Edrich and with functional costumes by Robby Duiveman. It is not Loy's best production, but good ideas are suggested and the clichés associated with opera and the background of the original novel are set aside. It is appreciated.

We have said and written on other occasions, when faced with well-known and over-interpreted repertoire works, that it is surprising that they can still say new things from the always ambiguous concept of interpretation. But yes, it is possible: and if in January Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" seemed freshly baked in the hands of Vespres d'Arnadí), now – thanks to the violinistic voice of Janine Jansen, supported by the Camerata Salzburg – the four famous concerts of the Venetian musician have sounded as new. In this case, thanks to the precise and imaginative virtuosity of the Austrian string ensemble and the contagious enthusiasm of the Dutch violinist, integrated into the ensemble and with a permanent, enthusiastic dialogue far removed from the individualism of a diva embracing her 1715 Stradivarius.The precise attacks, the timbral intensity, and the measured improvised passages have brought new light to works that, beyond their advertising use, are masterpieces of musical craftsmanship. And so they sounded on the stage of a Palau de la Música packed to the rafters – even to the organ galleries – and with the burden of a mobile phone that, impertinently, wanted to have its say at the end of La tardor.The evening, however, was not limited to Vivaldi and his most iconic work, but rather to a review of the concept of concerto grosso, typical of the Baroque, but which in the 20th and 21st centuries can also find its place within chamber music: Nino Rota and his Concert per l’archi opened the show, with the mellow strings of the Camerata Salzburg led by a Gregory Ahss always attentive to his stage companions, and with precise gestures to mark accents in the service of a delightful work.The Palau premiered the Piccolo concerto grosso, op. 87 by the Franco-Swiss Richard Dubugnon (1968), present in the hall and who has dedicated the piece to Janine Jansen. The successful and effective use of staccati revealed Jansen's virtuosity and her rapport with Ahss's violin, along with Firmian Lerner's viola and Stefano Guarino's cello, and throughout twenty minutes of good music. The almost jazzy passages of the first movement, with their syncopated rhythms, brought to light the expressive uniqueness of the instrumental ensemble, with a masterful performance from its members.

The eve of Sant Jordi, FOC (Fundació Òpera Catalunya) brought the 2025-26 season to a close with a new production of La traviata, an opera that the Sabadell-based entity has staged on several occasions throughout its long career. And I take this opportunity to suggest that FOC create a virtual consultation source listing the titles and casts programmed since 1982.On this occasion, Verdi's opera has a double cast, although it could end up being triple if Maria Miró, initially scheduled as one of the announced Violettas – the other is Montserrat Seró – joins the scheduled performances in and out of Sabadell, after a vocal ailment has kept her away. At the premiere performance, the leading soprano was Tina Gorina. The singer from Sant Feliu de Guíxols, who had already sung the title role in Valencia, displayed sensational musicality, especially in a brilliant second act with unforgettable moments, such as the way she articulated the phrase “Dite alla giovine, si bella e pura”.Good material, too, from the Mallorcan tenor Antoni Lliteres, a devoted Alfredo, with the cabaletta included in the second act after resolving with conviction and firmness De miei bollenti spiriti.For his part, baritone Luis Cansino showed excellent taste in phrasing and in the use of dynamics in his duet with Violetta and the subsequent aria (and also cabaletta) before Alfredo. His voice is uneven, but Cansino knows his stuff and made good use of the basic material.Good material also from the pit, with a brilliant Symphony of Vallès and with brilliant moments (also the Cor d’Amics de l’Òpera), although the direction of Andrés Salado did not always get it right in the concertation and with some false entry that occasionally misled the performers on stage.Carles Ortiz is a veteran director, who knows how to stage very well and who has the complicity of the spatial conception of Jordi Galobart and the movement of Jaume Sangrà. In this case, at the service of a very well-known title about which practically everything has already been said. However, the idea of ​​transferring the original action of the opera (1840s) to the glamour of high society in 1950 not only keeps the spirit of the original plot alive and current, but also helps to emphasize the loneliness of the protagonist. A complete success.After the tour that took the show to Manresa, Vic, Reus, Viladecans, Cornellà, Lleida, Sant Cugat del Vallès, Granollers, Girona, Tarragona and Barcelona, FOC is already warming up for a new season, with works such as L’elisir d’amore, the duo Cavalleria rusticana / Pagliacci, Cançó d’amor i de guerra and Aida. Two of these titles, by the way, also present next season at the Liceu... couldn't they agree?

Hardly half the Palau was filled on Monday night to host one of the best recitals of this season so far: the one starring Piotr Beczała and pianist Sarah Tysman. Few people but a cozy atmosphere, of utmost attention and maximum respect, without mobiles or coughing fits and with total devotion to what was happening on stage.At this point, and with more than thirty years of career, the Polish tenor does not have to prove anything to anyone. Simply, he continues to be one of the best lyric singers of his generation, with a career as coherent as it is brilliant, as serious as it is well chosen. And this success in the choice also extended to the repertoire selected on the occasion we are dealing with.Like a King Midas, the beautiful but inconsequential songs of Mieczyslaw Karlowicz became pure filigree with Beczala's fresh voice, thanks to simply admirable technical mastery and sensitivity. All before giving way to a brilliant page by the also Polish Stanislaw Moniuszko extracted from the opera The Haunted Manor. Half-voices and semi-high notes resolved with sinuous nuances also took hold of Dvorák's four "Gypsy Songs", before closing the first part with the aria of the prince from Smetana's Rusalka by the Czech composer.Second Russian part with seven precious songs by Tchaikovsky, during which the French pianist Sarah Tysman showed much more sensitivity, setting aside the help in Beczala's small memory lapse at the end of Rachmaninoff's Vesennie vody which officially closed the evening, which previously had another of its highlights with the very famous Kuda, kuda from Tchaikovsky's opera Eugene Onegin.Beczala showed himself at all times committed to what he had in hand, sensitive, dedicated and a very good communicator, aware that this was neither an easy nor a common repertoire for the Barcelona public. But he knew how to use all the resources of his art – which are not few – to master the stage. And to top it off, two encores with a Hispanic flavor such as No puede ser from La tabernera del puerto, by Pablo Sorozábal, and the song Granada, both with impeccable pronunciation. And as if that were not enough, the always effective Non ti scordar di me by Ernesto De’Curtis. A golden clasp to an equally golden night for the annals of the Palau de la Música.

Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643) gathered throughout his life several madrigals, divided into nine books, the last of which was published posthumously. The fifth, written in 1605, marks a turning point because the musician from Cremona incorporates what is known as seconda prattica, in which word and music intertwine in an expressive will – which includes resources such as dissonances – that will soon blossom into opera: let's not forget that two years after that collection-book, written for the court of Mantua and the Gonzaga family, Monteverdi would premiere in that city and in the ducal palace La favola d’Orfeo, in which the composer demonstrates having assumed the principles that will govern from then on theopera per musica, both his own and others'..The Liceu has been offering the various series of Monteverdi's madrigal books since the 2020-2021 season, and until now the second, third, fourth, sixth, seventh, and eighth had been heard. Now it's the fifth's turn, without this ordinal arrangement being very clear. Surely, Rinaldo Alessandrini has something to do with it. But it doesn't matter if the order isn't the established one, because what matters is enjoying these chamber sessions in a foyer very suitable for this type of evenings.Once again, the ensemble led by the Italian master demonstrates its commitment to Monteverdian music, with rigor, precision, and elegance. And, in the case at hand, with the measured theatricality of a compendium of pieces that prefigure the great theater man that Monteverdi would become, despite having bequeathed us only three complete operas.Facing the Concerto Italiano, which features a theorbo, two violins, two violas, and a cello, and with Alessandrini present on harpsichord, the vocal ensemble managed to convey the contrasts, the lights, and the shadows of the nineteen pieces that make up the compendium.Sober in gesture and generous in expressive transmission, Rinaldo Alessandrini once again demonstrated that he is not only an authority in the Monteverdian style, but that he has also managed to convey its modernity, thanks to a writing that also demands expressive imagination. And there was a lot of that on Wednesday evening in the foyer of the Gran Teatre del Liceu.

Manon Lescaut It always works if this opera is presented in a production that perfectly captures its essence: an apotheosis of melodrama, like virtually the entirety of Puccini's catalog. In the last twenty years, the Liceu has presented three different productions of Puccini's third opera, based on the novel The History of the Chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut of theabbot Prévost. A story also inspired by the operas of Auber, Massenet, and Henze. Now, Puccini's version has returned to the Rambla. A production of the Frankfurt Opera, with stage direction by Àlex Ollé and part of his usual team: set designer Alfons Flores, costume designer Lluc Castells and lighting designer Joachim Klein.

The recent announcement of Juanjo Mena's retirement from concert halls and auditoriums due to a cruel and irreversible illness added interest to the OBC's weekend concert. Attending it as a farewell to one of the great conductors of our time felt like a moral obligation. And we were there.

Johann Sebastian Bach And George Frideric Handel had many things in common: they were German, Protestant, born in the same year, and both went blind at the end of their lives, operated on for cataracts... by the same surgeon.

I confess: I was dreading this recital by Juan Diego Flórez. But, little by little, the Peruvian tenor convinced me of two things: he was genuinely eager to sing, and he gave it his all. That said, the Peruvian tenor has a foolproof trick: he never deviates from the script. Having said that, it's perfectly understandable that the first part, with its undeniable technical difficulty, was the highlight of the evening.

Ours is an increasingly noisy world. Information bombs and shrapnel bombs rain down. Utterly ineffective high-ranking officials contradict each other about the old world order and submission to downright psychopathic governments, when what is needed is peace, silence, rest, and, above all, music that makes time seem to stand still. It's an illusion, based on the premise that music is, precisely, an art of time.

The BCN Clàssics season is progressing smoothly, cruising along at a steady pace. Its commitment to the great repertoire ensures a loyal audience; the soloists are top-notch, and the orchestral ensembles and their respective conductors are more or less equally impressive. Monday's concert reaffirmed this, with Slavic colors courtesy of Mussorgsky and Khachaturian, and two well-known works, amidst which we discovered something truly wonderful. Violin Concerto of Khatxaturian.

On paper, the program for the weekend concert at L'Auditori looked interesting. And judging by the results, the interest was total. Let's start, however, with the second part: given the budgeted value of the former military service, it was obvious that the OBC must have a lot of experience with a work like the Symphony No. 1 in B-flat, Op. 38 Schumann's. And it's true that the overall performance was good, but it's in that repertoire where—I think—our orchestra sometimes reveals an inertia that only the most authoritative conductors can break. And this is not the case with the Lithuanian Giedre Slekyte, a professional conductor who seemed to bow to the status quo without shaking the orchestra's routine foundations. Nothing to say. But nothing to highlight from a second half that was just passable.

Amilcare Ponchielli's most famous opera is hardly defensible. Leaving aside the intensity of some arias, The Mona Lisa It lacks the dramatic appeal necessary for a staging that transcends the most blatant historicism. Arrigo Boito's pretentious libretto, disguised under the pseudonym of Tobia Gorrio, offers nothing more.

No, indeed, this isn't a critique. Or is it? Could it be, given the context of the honoree? Let's take it step by step.

On October 23 of last year, Philippe Herreweghe gave a Beethoven concert in front of the Orchestre des Champs-Élysées. Then I wrote One of the strategies I use when writing reviews from the Palau de la Música is to observe Beethoven's expression, perched to one side of the stage: if he smiles, it means the concert went well or very well. And on that occasion, I commented that he had only half-smiled.