Concert Review: Music For Life, Benefiting GMHC

I’m delighted that changing careers from the music business to civil rights work – okay, I’m the office manager, I know – hasn’t meant I no longer get free tickets to great performances. Special thanks to GMHC, not only for all the great work they do, but for the free tickets they provided to employees of similar organizations. Not only was my ticket free, I was in the 5th row center orchestra on the aisle, across from two of the evening’s award recipients. I’m glad I wore my jacket!

I ended up sitting next to a real New York character, an older gentleman in a rumpled suit with wild, unkempt salt and pepper hair sticking out in every direction from underneath a Yankees’ cap. I guess he was really enjoying the performance, as he quite literally bounced in his seat through the opening number, the overture from Rossini’s Semiramide, which he managed to pronounce in a way that rhymed with “comedy.” Maestro Joseph Colaneri gave a vigorous reading to this pet favorite of mine, but Avery Fisher Hall’s famously muddy acoustics dulled the effect somewhat.

Rising star Jossie Perez, an unfairly attractive young lady with a warm, creamy mezzo, started off the evening with a rousing rendition of the Habañera from Carmen; it’s exceptionally difficult to put your own mark on a piece that’s so familiar, but Perez brought original colors to several places in the text. One complaint: her embouchure is so visibly tight that it’s quite distracting. Honey: your voice is completely aligned, and the Habañera isn’t exactly hard. Relax and just let your voice go, it will sound even better! You don’t need to focus the tone so much.

The evening’s host was the traumatic soprano Vera Galupe-Borszkh, who did a wonderful job introducing each artist and giving just enough background on the music being performed, managing to tastefully balance respect for the great masterpieces on parade while affectionately poking fun at the whole affair. For example, before Aprile Millo graced us with a fantastic “L’altra notte” from Boïto’s Mefistofele, Madame Vera set the scene for us of the poor, deranged heroine huddling in her cold prison cell, and managed to get off a hilarious joke about “frozen Margherita.”

Angela Brown is not a rising star. She is a comet. May she burn brightly for many years to come. I’m delighted to say that the recent ecstatic reviews of her unheralded Met debut were not exaggerations: she is the real deal. Not only does she have the voice – and boy, does she – she has the radiance, presence and personality to go with it. She made the great “Pace, pace” from Verdi’s La Forza del Destino seem positively easy. Whereas most sopranos gasp in desperation for the final climactic B-flat on “Maledizione!,” where they seem to be cursing the composer, Brown reveled in the chance to show her glorious, blooming and powerful top. (And at the risk of sounding like a complete queen, her silk brocade stole was gorgeous!)

The evenings honorees were Judith and Samuel Peabody and Stan Herman; the speeches and tributes were elegant and moving, and it was clear these awards were well-deserved and long overdue. Bravo to them all.

Musically, the second half of the program opened with a choral arrangement of “Nessun dorma” from Puccini’s Turandot for the New York City Gay Men’s Chorus, that went off better than I expected.

Maureen O’Flynn, a soprano I first heard back in 1993, has gained power and warmth over the years. She offered a wonderfully phrased Mimi from La Boheme, and also partnered Ms. Perez in the Flower Duet from Lakme. Ms. Brown came back with “Dich teure Halle” from Wagner’s Tannhäuser, but sounded as if she came not to praise the hall, but to punch a hole in the back wall. (Her German diction wasn't on par with her Italian, however.)

Galupe-Borszkh thoughtfully helped us out with Ms. Perez’ second aria, from Luna’s El Niño Judio, by translating it as “The Nice Jewish Boy,” and added that it was made famous by the great Spanish soprano Victoria de los Angeles, which she translated as “Vicki from L.A.”

Aprile Millo returned to enthusiastic applause, and then addressed the audience, asking for their moral support, as she announced that her mother is in the terminal stages of cancer.

She then sang the aria “La mamma morta” – “My Mother’s Dead” – from Giordano’s Andrea Chenier. Seriously.

As a person of faith, I was touched that the Yankees/Rossini fan in the seat next to me bowed his head in prayer in solidarity with Madame Millo during the aria.

As an audience member, I was irked that he prayed aloud.

Signora Galupe-Borszkh overstayed her welcome by about two musical numbers, in my opinion, but overall the evening was outstanding. Bass-baritone Richard Bernstein also contributed a solid if stiff Toreador Song, and filled in for the ailing no-show tenor in the finale from Candide.