A Singer’s Life Pt27
I thought that, after all the soul-searching needed for favourite operas and recordings, I would write about a few places where I have sung which stand out as truly memorable, and perhaps came as a surprise.
I have already written about both Bielefeld and Halle, which are largely unknown German towns, but which proved to be delightful and fascinating places. Such also was Nancy, a town on the northern edge of France, which I assumed would be another dull provincial venue for me to sing, take the money and run. Indeed, my initial impression when I arrived was of an industrial town, nowhere near any part of France that might interest me. However, the taxi ride from the station revealed an absolute jewel of a city centre. Nancy is an architectural miracle and a masterpiece of town planning.
I remembered from school history that Alsace-Lorraine was a sort of plaything of the French and the Germans over the centuries, but I had really only thought about Alsace, as it looks so obviously Germanic. Lorraine is different because its two major cities Metz and Nancy represent its border history. Metz with its Germanic name (pronounced Mess in French) seems more well, German, although now it is thoroughly French linguistically. The whole region had two separate languages/dialects in the past: Lorrain was a close associate of French whilst Lorraine-Franconian was a Germanic dialect close to Rhineland German. There has apparently been a revival recently of the Franconian dialect to try to turn back the tide of French!
Nancy has always been francophone, but its history is entwined with European aristocracy. After the defeat of the Burgundian Duke Charles the Bold in 1477, the Duke of Lorraine established firm control over Lorraine, ruling from Nancy. A complicated historical succession crisis in France in the early 18th Century led to the exiled Polish king Stanislaus, father in law of the French King Louis XV, being given the Duchy of Lorraine. This must have confused the poor Lorrains, but they were to benefit enormously as Stanislaus proceeded to create a magnificent new square, the unsurprisingly titled Place Stanislaus, in a new area of town which was flat and free from the higgledy-piggledy nature of the old town. The square is bounded on three sides by superb buildings and on the fourth by a delightful park. One of the sides is given over to the Opéra Nationale de Lorraine whose original building was opened as part of the square complex in 1758. As with many such buildings, it burned down in 1905 but its replacement, recently modernised itself, fits in perfectly with the architectural whole. Opposite across the square is the Grand Café Foy, named after one of Napoleon’s generals, which is the place to go for an aperitif, a lunch, a dinner or a post-performance beer.
Place Stanislas, Nancy
I was invited to Nancy in the early 90’s by the Director who had been at Paris for my Tosca (see Part 16) and had moved to take charge of the Opera in Nancy. I sang my first Geronte di Ravoir in Puccini’s ‘Manon Lescaut’ there and was bowled over by the wonders of this, to me, completely unknown city. M. Blanchard had assembled a splendid cast for this fabulous opera, conducted by the great Armin Jordan (see Part 14) and I managed to acquire a superb apartment in the 18th century section of the town, 5 minutes from the theatre. This engagement led to another as Pistola in Verdi’s ‘Falstaff’ which proved to be another excellent production and introduced me to the wonderful French director Alain Garichot. We took it to Caen and Lausanne and, since Pistola is not an enormous role, I had lots of time to explore all these lovely towns. M. Blanchard moved on to Geneva and was responsible for inviting me there with a re-staging of Pierre Constant’s ‘Manon Lescaut’ which then led on to my return in ‘Samson et Dalilah’. I would encourage anyone passing near Nancy to make a detour to visit this splendid city. “Vaut le voyage” as the French say in the Michelin guide!
Another relatively unknown marvel is Lyon. Even though it is France’s third largest city with a population of approximately 500,000 (very similar to Edinburgh), it is dwarfed by Paris. Lying at the confluence of the Rhône and Saône rivers, it is both a strategic and defensive site, with a steep hill on the Saône right bank and a very steep hill between the two rivers a mile or two from the confluence. It was developed by the Romans as a communications hub between northern Gaul and Italy They called it Lugdunum, which has changed over the years into Lyon. I had heard about the city from my friend Ian Caley (see other articles) who sang there frequently in the 80’s, and it had become a family joke that we always referred to Lee-YON as a comedy name for a fairy tale place far away. Therefore it was a great delight for me that the Director of the Lyon Opera decided he liked me and invited me there on a few occasions in the 90’s and 2000’s, so that I could discover for myself what a magical place it was. As well as a hub, it became a major silk making centre and also served as a market for all the many wine growing regions (see Part 21) nearby. In addition, over the centuries, it has developed as a major gastronomic mecca. In the later 19th century, the foundations of an extensive funicular railway system were installed, and this still exists today as the easiest way to climb and descend the hills of the city. Along with the funicular, a modern metro system whisks you around the city easily and quickly. The contrast to the debacle over the Edinburgh tram is stark!
The Lyon opera house is a marvellous mixture of old and new. Opened in 1831, it saw the French premieres of several famous operas, including ‘Andrea Chenier’ and ‘Boris Godunov’. That Lyon was chosen before Paris is unusual in French history, as the capital is normally so closely associated with anything new and important. The opera house was completely renovated in 1993, leaving only the original facade and the outer walls, and the interior was controversially decorated in red and black. The only way, except in emergencies, of reaching the stage from the dressing rooms is by a series of lifts (elevators) which are notoriously slow. This means that calls to the stage for a principal artist come very early as you have to allow up to 10 minutes to get there! I sang ‘Il Tabarro’, ‘La Calisto’ and ‘Tales of Hoffmann’ there, and on one occasion stayed in a fabulous apartment halfway up the famous Croix-Rousse hill which had been a silk factory at one time. It was a magnificent rambling place with lots of different levels. My kids loved it. The differential between opera singers’ fees and those of actors was brought home to me by the fact that I had the place to myself but found out that when it was let for actors, it slept 8! On the right bank of the Saône, the old town winds up and over another steep hill (with funiculars) and you can find the Cathedral, a Roman amphitheatre and many quirky old buildings. On the peninsula between the two rivers, a splendid 18th and 19th century town was laid out. Near the confluence, you find one of my favourite restaurants, the Brasserie Georges, a Lyon institution since 1836, whose interior was redesigned in Art Deco style in 1924 and much loved by Lyonnais and visitors including Zola, Rodin, Verlaine, Jules Verne, the Lumiere brothers and Lamartine. Still brewing the beer you drink in the restaurant, it seats 2000 in a day! Don’t miss it if you are in Lyon.
I sang twice in the famous Palau de la Musica in Valencia but was quite unprepared for the magnificence of this, the third city of Spain. The river Turia used to run through the centre of the city but was diverted to the south to avoid flooding, leaving a large space for building. Gosh, did they build! On the right bank lies the old town with a fine cathedral and quaint narrow streets, where the famous paella was invented. On the left bank are various grand buildings and hotels right down to the harbour along with its enormous container port and many beaches. One of these fine new buildings is the concert hall where I sang, the Palau de la Musica. It has a splendid modern auditorium with lovely bars and foyers. Unfortunately, they rather overdid the glass roof and side, so that, even with full air conditioning, it is stifling in the hot Spanish sun. I sang some Haydn Masses there the first time and thoroughly enjoyed my visit. When I returned many years later to sing in a concert performance of Britten’s ‘Peter Grimes’, as part of a festival of sea inspired music to coincide with the Americas Cup Yacht Competition, I could hardly believe my eyes. I was still singing in the Palau, but since my last visit, the old riverbed was now home to a futuristic Opera House, a huge Science Museum, a Planetarium and an Oceanographic Park. Mainly designed by the famous architect Santiago Calatrava, construction started in 1994 and was finished by 2005. It is a series of buildings inconceivable now, and cost squillions. However, it is said to generate millions now from tourism and local business and employs 3,500 workers. Still, it amazes me how they managed to get it through planning, because the actual buildings themselves dwarf anything I had ever seen. It seems unimaginable that a city somewhere in size between Edinburgh and Glasgow could have spent so much money on culture and science.
Another little known fact is that, like Barcelona and the Balearic Islands, the inhabitants are bilingual, speaking a form of Catalan, quite different from Spanish, in their homes, recognised by the state as a separate language. Spanish is spoken and understood but these people are fiercely independent and value their own language and traditions. It makes visiting Valencia a unique experience, and I would recommend it.
Next time, great concert halls!
