The Parish Church of St John-at-Hampstead

Friends of the Music talk by Stephen Tucker at Burgh House on 27th June
“Cette chanson est pour vou, Madame,” sang Jean Sablon, a notable example of a chanteur de charme, as the last item in Stephen’s beguiling programme. He spread out more treats than in the window of a Paris pâtisserie, and Madame finds herself spatially challenged! However, she will try to give an impression. That’s what Monet did after all!

The first half consisted entirely of opera. First we had to clear up the two divisions in France. In Opera Comique – Carmen’ being a notable example – people actually spoke dialogue. It wasn’t meant to imply the opera was funny! Grand Opera was Grander than Grand. Somebody is supposed to have said of the Paris Opera, “Opera performed here on foot and on horeseback,”and that was only the start. Special effects were all the rage, and woe betide the composer who didn’t include a ballet! What did he think the members of the Jockey Club came for? (And what was that rather grumpy painter chap called Degas supposed to do without it?)

Berlioz was the first French composer to really hit his stride in Grand Opera. Previously in France it had been written by foreigners. It wasn’t difficult to spot, in an extremely brisk chorus for the People of Rome (not Ancient Rome – this was from Benevenuto Cellini’) where a piece like the quintet in Carmen’ came from.

Stephen spoke about French voices. Perhaps not, he said, as sumptuous as the Italians, but, and here we had an excellent chance to find out, very strong in the male department, especially bass-baritones.

We had two major players in this field in Pol Plançon, who could sing Berlioz’ Mephistopheles at a cracking pace (faster than Bryn Terfel does) and, more than once, the great Marcel Journet.

But tenors were not lacking. The golden-voiced Georges Thill, who sang at Covent Garden and the Met, showed off his skills in an aria from Gounot’s Mireille’. From all reports he couldn’t act – but, when the ladies were around, he acted promptly!

Natalie Dessay, the soprano du jour, (she was actually on TV while wee were at this event), showed off her coloratura and very French sound to great effect in the Waltz from Romeo et Juliette’. Emma Calvé, star of a thousand Carmens’ (literally), even on an old recording, showed us why.

On reflection, there aren’t as many duets for the boys (as opposed to their singing to each other) as one might think and the uber-famous one from Les Pêcheurs de Perles’ makes you purr. The other one which quickly springs to mind is the one from Don Carlos’.

If Natalie Dessay showed off her coloratura, the astonishing Mado Robin went up a gear. Her Bell Song’ was out of this world – somewhere in the stratosphere! And, for me, one of the highlights of the evening was Alain Vanzo singing the Aubade’ from Lalo’s Le Roi d’Ys.’ Lalo wasn’t a one piece composer, for example there is his Symphonie Espagnole, but anyone would want to be awoken at dawn with this aria. I had the pleasure of hearing Vanzo, who mostly sang in France, and I have not forgotten his silvery voice or his charm. Stephen pointed out, and rightly so, the importance of words in the French vocal world, both in opera, and in song, to which we now moved. Over the years so many have stuck in my head – “To the country where they make war on each other (point carefully made) my bel ami has gone away.” Such a lovely expression, which does not really quite translate: “It’s weeping in my heart like it’s raining on the city,” “And the mandolin chatters among the shivering breezes,” and many more.

We did not hear all of these, but we did hear Régine Crespin in I am the Spectre of the Rose’, immortalized not only by Berlioz but by the ballet, in which the leap by Nijinsky, dressed in rose petals, is said never to have been surpassed.

We heard Pierre Bernac’s art compensate for a not particularly special voice, and Gérard Souzay follow on from him, but with rather more voice to work with. And then time was running away. It was poignant that we almost finished with a song by Reynaldo Hahn by Anthony Rolfe Johnson, who sings for us no more, as he has been struck with Alzheimers far too early. We didn’t have time for wonderful Edith Piaf singing Non, je ne regrette rien’ and I did regret it!
There can’t be many parishes in this fair land where the Vicar can turn this on. We certainly don’t want his time to run out! If I’ve left out some of his favourites, I can only say, “Sorry, Vicar!”