[…] The stage is a singer’s rightful home, but he or she must learn to take full charge of it, or they will be blown off it like a wilted leaf. […]

[…] proving that even a complex opera such as Don Giovanni […] can be presented to great effect with little means, an actual viewpoint, and a thorough rehearsal process. […]

[…] Then, at the very tip of the second act, everything shifted. Irish Soprano Aylish Ayman came in practically flying from the wings, trailing a large map as a prop and adding a good dose of spunk to a show that was endangered of dipping into loftiness. […]

[…] The best thing she said, and there were many great one-liners, was, “The sound is not for you, it’s for us. What you get is the sensation of creating it.” […]

[…] Shouldn't NYC be able to attract more boys to a choir of this stature, a place where they would benefit hugely from its rigorous and sophisticated musical training program? […]

[…] Listening to this magnificent group of singers, I thought that one cannot gift a boy a better opportunity than to sing in a choir. […]

[…] This time, von Otter is present on stage, sitting on the far right, so she can witness what he is doing, probably for the first time. She sits very erect and fully alert, realizing she is up against a force of nature she did not expect. She must crank up her own performance to match it. […]

A shy viking walks onto the small stage, casually dressed, and shows us a most intimate, humble and tender communion between the harpsichord, Bach and Scarlatti. […]

[…] Altogether, this Ring must be the cheapest most expensive production in opera history. […]

[…] It reminded me of a line in Filip Noterdaeme’s The Autobiography of Daniel Isengart:  “Years, many years later, he [Filip Noterdaeme] learned from the writings of Vladimir Nabokov and Quentin Crisp that the best way to get people to notice suffering was to show glimpses of it in small intervals with long stretches of time in between.” […]

[…] Right now, he is a sorcerer’s apprentice with fantastic talent. Once he becomes a full-fledged sorcerer, he will bewitch everyone, and he will become an absolute rock star, just like the historic castrati. […]

[…] At the very odd happy end, an army of extras stormed the stage, supposedly nuns but looking in fact like the waiters from the Grand Tier restaurant assembled for a photo op. Everyone say, “Cheese.” […]

[…] A breath of fresh air. Very continental, old-school production, but well done and unpretentious.  […]

[…] She came across like a coy teenage girl in her first big concert, locked into a shell. Each song, entirely French and on the precious side, made me feel as if she was pleading for mercy. […]

[…] There was poise and grace in every single, carefully calibrated move. Total mastery and control of her art and its effect on the audience. Humility and playfulness, total commitment, a sense of ease and trust. […]

[…] Soprano Holly Flack is someone to look out for. Radiant, perfect inner stillness, strong technique, a voice that will last. Gorgeous smile, her coloratura effortlessly floating on air. A mix of humility and grace, with some spice and spite. […]

[…] He is, of all the countertenors I have seen, the most reckless and fearless one, unabashed yet in total control, without shame, basking in the otherworldliness and flamboyance of it all. […]

[…] Wow. No one said during rehearsals, “Wait, this does not work”? […]

[…] A highlight was Massenet’s En fermant les yeux, where he let go pretension, was at ease and understated, allowing an unexpected, pure tenderness to shape his performance. […]

[…] Possibly the greatest rock concert I have ever seen. The lady is a phenomenon. Sophisticated, powerful, smart and fun. At 62, she can rock harder than any of those fabricated girls the industry is churning out these days. […]