2014-12-15, Berliner Zeitung
Seine Stimme ist so rein und weich, dass man sich fragt, ob ein Mann, eine Frau oder ein Kind singt. Er hält und verbindet die Töne so lange, dass man sich außerdem fragt, wie dieser Mann überhaupt atmen kann. Philippe Jaroussky bezauberte im Konzerthaus – und bezaubert noch weiter auf der CD “Pietà” …
Source/Read more: Berliner Zeitung
The following is not a professional translation; no profit is being made, no infringement of copyright is intended.
“The man who breathes through the ears
His voice, so pure and soft, makes you wonder whether it is a man, a woman or a child singing. On top of it, he carries and connects the notes for intervals so prolonged it makes you wonder how this man is even able to breathe. Philippe Jaroussky enchants the audience at the Konzerthaus – and continues to enchant on his CD “Pietà.”
According to etiquette of formal attire, a man’s waistline should always be covered when he’s standing upright, either by a vest or by a waist band, called “cummberbund” with merciless realism if talking about a tuxedo. [“Kummer” means “grief” in German, so “Kummerbund” is literally a bind to hide the cause of grief.] Now talking about countertenor Philippe Jaroussky, who at the age of 36 still looks half his years, there is nothing about his waistline that could be source of any grief. He can afford to leave his dinner jacket open, in a breach of all rules of decency. In effect, it provides him with more air while he sings, and us with an insight into his art.
Thus, with his cheerful generosity, he made the Berlin audience a voyeur of his stunning technique. You could see it bouncing, approximately eight times per second: the diaphragm, at the long as spaghetti coloraturas of the aria “Se in ogni guardo” from the opera “Orlando finto pazzo,” written in 1714 by Antonio Vivaldi.
Garlands of notes, twenty centimeters long [for the accurate: 20 cm equals 7.9 inches.]
The Venetian composer, the most brilliant violinist of his time, mercilessly treated the singing voice like an instrument as well. Mezzosoprano Magdalena Kozená once burst out a few years ago, when she was supposed to record Vivaldi arias for a CD: “My God, where am I supposed to breathe there?” Jaroussky can sing it though. Garlands of notes, twenty centimeters long on one breath, all the notes cleare as any recorder could manage, note for note exactly in focus, only separated by throat and diaphragm, without incessant “ha-ha-ha” attacks in between.
Philippe Jaroussky, whose high countertenor continues to be disturbing, leaving the listener unsure if a man, a woman, or a child was singing, has to breathe through the ears. Not only at the savage, frilly bits he never ceases to amaze, but also at the long, long arcs at Vivaldi’s “Stabat Mater,” demanding the listener to empathize with Mary’s suffering, weeping for her son Jesus at the cross. Jaroussky’s art could be described here as the virtuosity of devotion. Not only because he fully backed on simplicity and denied himself any lustre of a spectacle in this piece, but more because he completely submitted his body to the verbal and musical meaning. His breath followed the punctuation and the verse structure of the rhyming text, which in turn are mirrored in the corresponding phrases of the music. Achieving this takes foresight and discipline, both of which resources the exceptional singer has at his disposal in the highest degree.
The craft of beauty
He was accompanied by the Ensemble Artaserse, making obvious their pleasant French influence: the strings don’t like the noise-heavy, whipped-up sound of Italian Baroque orchestras. What they are after, is decency and precision. Especially at the introductory concerto c-minor RV 120, it was finally possible to hear that Vivaldi was more than just a rhetorician of Baroque affects, but an aesthete concerning proportions who tried and achieved to build large forms with clear harmonic plans. Only the concert for two violins and strings a-minor op. 3 n° 8 the musicians took too fast, resulting not only in a plump externalization of the dramatic effect of the music, but also in pushing the two soloists to the limits of their abilities.
Jaroussky, however, showed once more that he is a singer who becomes more sophisticated the more he calls on his own self-restraint, uniquely uniting ability, charisma and intelligence. His embellishments at the da capo of the intimate aria “Mentre dormi” revealed deep musical insight: by his own contribution, he was able to render the vocal line even more beautiful – a result of his profound knowledge of the craft of beauty. He closed with a night-song from Vivaldi’s setting of psalm 127: “Cum dederit dilectis suis somnum.” Which means: “For so he giveth his beloved sleep.” [Now this is a pun that only works in German. In German, the translation reads “Den seinen gibts der Herr im Schlaf,” which became a fixed expression, that means: To some, God just bestows his blessings while they sleep. (Suggesting that PJ is one of those, someone utterly blessed and gifted.) The reverse translation of the phrase doesn’t fathom it, because in German it is hardly ever used in a malicious sense, but more admiringly. So, “fools and weeds grow without rain,” etc., don’t maintain this attitude.] Re-listen on the CD “Pietà,” just released by Erato.”
