Singer Helen Medlyn, right, and pianist Rosemary Barnes relished the bold juxtapositions of the Apollinaire settings in Poulenc's <i>Banalites</i>.
Singer Helen Medlyn, right, and pianist Rosemary Barnes relished the bold juxtapositions of the Apollinaire settings in Poulenc's <i>Banalites</i>.
Song recitals, so lamentably rare in this country, are to be cherished.
Think of them as classical cabaret; the opportunity for singers to relate to an audience on relatively intimate terms, through their own unique selection of songs and stories.
A Bunch of Fives, Helen Medlyn and Rosemary Barnes' OperaFactory recital, came with the byline "a fabulous fistful of twenty-five songs". It sure was, and no one could have objected when a breath-taking Saint-Saens encore took the tally to 26.
Gerald Finzi's 1942 cycle, Let Us Garlands Bring, provided a smooth welcoming. Medlyn was heartrending in Come away death and both women thrived in the rhythmic intrigues of the faster songs.
The centrepiece of the evening was Wagner's Wesendonck Lieder. Even for those accustomed to Felix Mottl's orchestral versions, Barnes' evocative pianism more than compensated, starting with the wafting textures of the opening song.
In the Hothouse, portraying a greenhouse as prison, was unsettlingly claustrophobic. Throughout, Medlyn's musicianship could be heard in effortless phrasing, whether outlining troubled passions in Stand Still or finding redemption in Dreams.
Medlyn and Barnes relished the bold juxtapositions of the Apollinaire settings in Poulenc's Banalites. These ranged from a moody smoke-in-hotel-room solitude to a gleeful waltz around Paris, although the tone of the final Sanglots chilled, with its talk of hearts torn from bodies.
Medlyn promised us sunshine, soul and spirit as well as a bit of sauciness in Ravel's Five Greek Folk Songs. With a disarming sense of throwaway, she flexed, ready to take on an amatory rival in Quel galant, and took joy to an infectious new level in Tout gai.
The "kids' songs" of Leonard Bernstein's I Hate Music! were done with the voice and gawky shuffle of a youngster. The hearty humour that resulted made a sneaky 12-tone row and tongue-twisting premonitions of Stephen Sondheim even more delectable.
All in all, this was a deliciously civilised 70 minutes, carried off by this singing superwoman without even a sip of water. Overseas, Bunch would have a run rather than a single performance. It deserves many more airings.
What:A Bunch of Fives Where: Opera Factory When: Sunday
