2015-01-27-featured-press

Crescendo – “Ich wünsche mir, dass niemand klatscht”

2015-01-27, Crescendo

Philippe Jaroussky, der Countertenor mit der Engelsstimme, erzählt uns, warum er dieses Kompliment gar nicht so gerne hört, was die Gedichte von Paul Verlaine mit einem guten Bordeaux zu tun haben und weshalb er kein Kontrollfreak mehr ist”

Source/Read more: Crescendo


The following is not a professional translation; no profit is being made, no infringement of copyright is intended.

Philippe Jaroussky: “I wished no one would applaud”

Philippe Jaroussky, the countertenor with the voice of an angel speaks out about why he does not like to hear this compliment at all, what Paul Verlaine’s poems have in common with a good Bordeaux, and why he stopped being a control freak.

Paris, Théâtre des Champs-Elysées. It’s a cool but sunny day in December, and Philippe Jaroussky is guiding us through the quaint theater. He feels at home here, the countertenor tells us, because he has sung here so often. Later, he has to go and visit the sound engineer, to make some final corrections to his new album. He seems relaxed and cheerful, and we make ourselves comfortable in the ballet studio, where, more than 100 years ago, the dancers rehearsed for the world premiere of Le Sacre du Printemps.


crescendo: Philippe, in our last interview, 2011, you told us you wanted to learn to say “no” from time to time. So, did it work out?

Philippe Jaroussky: (laughs) No. My schedule from September to July is the busiest in my career so far. Many incredible projects, recordings, a new role on stage – I’ll sing Alcina, which has always been a dream of mine! It’s impossible to say “no” to that. I am 36 now, and I’m feeling even more comfortable with my voice –  I have to enjoy that before it’s too late. There is a lot to be done before I turn 45!


Well then go ahead: After much virtuosic opera, you now released a double album with music set to poems of the great French poet Paul Verlaine. Do you still recall the first Verlaine poem you ever heard?

That was in school, I was perhaps eleven or twelve. A French teacher introduced us to the poem “Prison,” in which an inmate describes what he sees and hears. The sounds of the city, the birds outside of the window. I found the poem quite appealing. Maybe that teacher is the cause for my interest in Verlaine? How nice to be reminded.


A few years ago, you recorded the album “Opium”, on which you sang French songs as well.

The Verlaine project resembles a continuation but is much more specific and more conceptual. I’ve been thinking about this kind of project for years. And now that I was finally able to record it, it turned out to be two whole hours of music on two CDs. For the French, Verlaine is a true hero. In fact, I feel particularly French when I sing lines by him. This is a facet of mine I want to share with the audience.


This particular “French” feeling you have, is it the reason why Verlaine’s poetry has inspired many composers to put his verses into music?

I like to compare it with the librettos by Metastasio in Baroque. There are certain pieces that you set to music to prove that you can do it. It’s the same with some works by Verlaine. Composers had Fauré’s version in mind, and thought, “I can do better.”

“I admire the way Edith Piaf and Jacques Brel sing their songs. They are often getting closer to that kind of music than any opera singer.”


Why did you only pick a few poems by Verlaine, to present them in different musical settings?

I didn’t want solely to let only the well-known composers have their say, but also the more obscure. There is  a variety of criteria why you can record a song. 1. Because it is unknown, but has a great quality. Or 2., because there is a particularly contrasting comparability, as, e.g., in “C’est l’extase.” There is a setting by Fauré, and one by Saint-Saëns, and the two couldn’t differ more. Wait, I will show you; you have to listen to this! (He takes out his cell and plays his recording.) Fauré takes the piece very slowly and atmospherically. Saint-Saëns does the opposite. It just flows like a string of pearls [“perlen” – you say that too for something fizzy, but exclusive, like champagne.] Two completely contrasting mentalities, two different varieties of ecstasy.

Is that why you have decided to choose fewer poems, but to present them in many different musical settings?

Yes. You can spend hours comparing. Specifically, Fauré and Saint-Saëns are amazingly different: often, when Fauré chooses a scale upward in one phrase, it is downwards instead in Saint-Saëns’s version. The good thing about Verlaine is: You can do all of your research from  home. There is a page on the internet where you can type in “Verlaine,” and you get all of the settings to music of all his poems. A sea of music! However, it was really hard to choose…


The Quatuor Ebène is joining you on some pieces. Did they have a say in the choice of repertoire?

They trusted me. I know the Quatuor Ebène well, and I knew what I could do with them. We wrote the arrangements for the songs we did together ourselves, after all. In one piece, they have to join in singing. For me, the collaboration with the quartet is a great experience. I like to refer to myself as a “frustrated violinist.” After all, I learned to play the violin long ago, and always would have liked to play in a quartet. Now, when I’m on stage with the Quatuor Ebène, it is as if I was part of it. They have a great energy and bring a lot of fresh air to the stage.


The cover is a reference to Verlaine’s time?

Absolutely. The great thing about this project, for me, is that I can finally depict the people it is about in a photograph – before there used to be paintings or caricatures of the composers. I wanted to show the Paris that Verlaine lived in. And on the cover, I actually sit in Verlaine’s favourite café, the famous Café Procope in Paris. There are pictures of him where he sits there exactly the same way, sipping his wine.


Why is the album titled “Green”?

First, I wanted to call it “The Verlaine album,” but at the moment, it is quite fashionable to choose a crisp single word as an album title. Then we recalled Verlaine’s life that was certainly not easy. He tried to kill the poet Arthur Rimbaud, ended up in prison and spent his last years drinking. So, someone suggested “Absinthe” as a title – but I can’t call an album “Absinthe” when the previous one was called “Opium,” can I? (laughs) But Absinthe is also called “the green fairy,” and in fact, there is a very beautiful poem by Verlaine titled “Green,” a love declaration to the aforementioned Rimbaud. I recorded three settings to music of “Green.” So that fits perfectly, doesn’t it? It is short, it is a colour, and the name is international even. I am so modern! (laughs)


Do you venture a prognosis, about how the new repertoire will be received by the audience?

I don’t worry about the German audiences at all. They are used to Lieder programmes and recitals. It is a little different in France. I get the feeling that people are having a problem with their own repertoire. These French songs are often seen as old-fashioned.


But why is that?

I think it has something to do with the language. Most of the time, these songs are sung in old French pronunciation, for instance, with the rolled “r” in “Frrrrrance.” I don’t do that. I am singing these songs in modern pronunciation, to make it sound as if I am speaking as I always do. I am not saying this is the ultimate truth to interpreting these songs – it is not, it has been done differently before – but it is my standpoint. And my attempt at getting closer to the audience.


Before recording, you have performed three concerts with the Verlaine programme. Did it work out then?

I noticed the same back with “Opium”: Some people seem a bit surprised or shocked, that all of a sudden, I’m singing in French, my native language, very immediately and then, on top of it, with this high voice. The programme really is quite different from virtuosic opera. Forget about standing ovations and screaming fans. The programme is presented like a lieder recital, after all. The audience barely has time to get into the feeling of one song. Sometimes, two minutes later, everything is over quickly. That’s why I try to avoid applause between the individual pieces. I am enjoying the songs just as much as the silence between them. It is equally important. To truly empathize with another world, you don’t need applause in between. No one applauds in the middle of Schubert’s “Winterreise.” So it doesn’t have to be in this programme either. I try to build a bridge, a sense of tension and suspense. [There is no accurate word for “Spannungsbogen” in English.]

Then the applause is after the concert?

Honestly: The older I get, the less I need that applause at all. I would also enjoy five minutes of silence after a great aria. Then you would have time to empathize with the new world. And you have a more intimate connection with the audience. There are there, after all, to listen to music, and I am there, to perform music. It isn’t about celebrating my persona. As a young person, you need that kind of support and confirmation, because you need to prove so many things on stage, especially in Classical music. But now? I would wish that for once, no one would feel the urge to applaud after a concert. That would be odd – but great!


Do these French songs need a different preparation than virtuosic Baroque arias?

Yes, it is something completely different. With songs, I am much more naked, when I am on stage, reciting a poem. In opera, you can always act out how desperate you really are. However, I have the feeling, if you start to force something in a lied or put too much of an emphasis on a certain word, the poetry suffers. I admire the way Edith Piaf and Jacques Brel sing their songs. They are often getting closer to that kind of music than any opera singer.


Because they fully get involved into their songs, without being afraid to even sing ugly from time to time?

I think that’s it exactly. With opera, you always have to concentrate on your voice. Of course, you have to work technically on a song as well, but that is not what it is primarily about, but to transport what you imagine. You have to take a risk with a song-repertoire.


And there is only two of you…

Yes but that is also a chance to go deeper into the music and to react more quickly. You often don’t have this much time to rehearse with a twenty-men orchestra. If it only involves two people, it is different, and Jérôme Ducros, my pianist, and I have known each other well for a long time, and like each other. We don’t have to talk about that I want to sing a certain phrase in the most quiet of pianos – he just reacts immediately.


With your Verlaine project, you are are currently going against the flow, just a little. Your countertenor colleagues seem to mainly place their bets on virtuosic arias.

Well, I am sure I will have to face critique as well for the programme, à la “This wasn’t written for a countertenor at all!” That’s correct. But let’s be honest: Almost nothing was written for countertenors! When Alfred Deller started singing as a countertenor, as one of the first pieces, the Midsummer Night’s Dream was re-written. We can choose and try out many things. And I’m happy to set out into a different direction once again.


You have sung a lot of castrato-repertoire too.

Yes, of course. I have to admit that, always with a bit of sense of shame: Of course, these castrato arias are a wonderful way to have success with the public. Many female soprano colleagues are now singing this repertoire, because it is simply electrifying. You will get standing ovations! Of course, it’s not that simple, as the pieces are really difficult. But if you can do it, you’ll succeed.


… and the audience goes wild?

Exactly. But personally, this repertoire reminds me of the limits of my voice. It is different with the songs to Verlaine’s poems. It feels a lot more natural. Why shouldn’t a French countertenor be allowed to express French poetry? Here it isn’t about vocal range or virtuosity, but about sensitivity for this kind of music. When you are listening to these virtuosic arias, it is as if you were drinking champagne. Verlaine’s poems are rather like a good Bordeaux you only learn to appreciate by and by. Some songs you have to give a second chance, and a third, before you can capture their beauty. That is not simple, because we’re living in a society where you have to love something when you first hear it.


Is this a trend in the Classical music scene?

Yes. And I have a feeling we always want more of a spectacle. This way though, we are missing out on a great part of the classical repertoire! I have to listen to Schubert regularly, because he triggers a different feeling in me. Why does anyone have to always be positive, and funny? Entertaining and spectacular? I think this ruins the spectre of feelings that music is capable of triggering. One of the best moments is when someone comes to me after the concert and tells me, “I could have cried.” Just by the way, this doesn’t mean I’m going to stop singing Baroque repertoire. But I will do more projects in the future that are not about virtuosity.


What kind of projects do you have in mind there?

One of my most important projects is going to be Bach. And Bach is virtuosic – in a completely different way. Yet I am a little afraid already before my first concerts with Bach in Germany – in German. This is the point in my career where I want to sing more Bach and where I also take the risk of the language. I hope, you’ll forgive me, even if it isn’t perfect.


No worry; the Germans love the French accent!

(hesitates and grins) Also when it comes to Bach?


But music isn’t all about perfection, or is it?

I used to be a real control freak, and wanted everything to be perfect. In the meantime, I have learned that it isn’t about perfection. When I have sung a phrase that is magical in colour and expression, but not a hundred percent on pitch – I keep it anyway. Perfection is not what moves people.


What else has changed for you since “Opium” in 2009?

Back then, I wanted to prove that I can sing that kind of repertoire. Now, I don’t care about others’ opinions.  To sing these songs brought me so much joy, energy, so much fun. That is what it’s about for me. When I did “Opium,” I was really afraid. And I was right, because the French reviews were horrible at the start. In the meantime, I like projects that are controversial. Often people say that I’m nice, a cute guy with this angel’s voice. Some think I’m boring because of that. With a project like the Verlaine one, I like to take a risk again. And maybe, I will convince some people of the contrary.

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