SSO Concert: GALA: SUMI JO / Review

GALA: SUMI JO

Singapore Symphony Orchestra

Esplanade Concert Hall

Thursday (20 February 2014)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 22 February 2014 with the title "Sumi Jo's vocals defy gravity". 

This listener has just about lost count the number of times Korean soprano Sumi Jo has performed in Singapore. The reason for her repeated returns is obvious: she never offers less than the sum total of her gifts, and audiences just love her. Although this latest gala concert with the Singapore Symphony Orchestra had the lightest fare of all, there was still a lot of hard work to do.

With four stunning changes of costumes, she sang eight showpieces in the main programme, and threw in another four encores for good measure. The secrets of her success appeared to be physical endurance, an irrepressible personality, and the simple refusal to act her age. The moment she strode on stage, like a valkyrie into battle, the audience just erupted.

And what a voice she still possesses; the sheer agility to sail through the coloratura twists and turns of Johann Strauss’s Voices of Spring was the first hurdle. While the orchestra was over-exuberant at times, it hushed up for the Vilja Lied from Lehar’s The Merry Widow. Through fine string textures, one marvelled at her unwavering breath control in those pianissimo, high and long-held notes. There was nary a hint of strain, and her intonation was spot-on.

The Viennese-themed first half, as effervescent as the city’s New Year’s Day Concerts, also included Adele’s flirtatious aria Spiel Ich die Unschuld vom lande (Die Fledermaus), and Lippen Schweigen (The Merry Widow). One wondered when Count Danilo would appear in the latter, which is the operetta’s most famous duet, Jo instead sang an adaptation in English and then engaged conductor Jason Lai in a somewhat ungainly waltz.

It was all in good fun, as were the orchestral pieces inserted before each pair of songs, including Strauss’s Die Fledermaus Overture and New Pizzicato Polka, Lehar’s Gold and Silver Waltzes and Offenbach’s Orpheus in The Underworld Overture. Before one could break out into a cancan, Jo was back for more with the renewed energy of an ardent teenager.

Juliette’s vertiginous waltz-song Je veux vivre (Gounod’s Romeo and Juliet) was a Jo staple, dispatched with a disarming ebullience. This was contrasted with Rachmaninov’s wordless Vocalise, where the seamless melismata soared into the stratosphere. A further Lehar aria Meine Lippen (from Giuditta) set the stage for her favourite party piece, Olympia’s Doll Aria from Offenbach’s Tales of Hoffmann.

Armed with a fan and thespian skills, her portrayal of the mechanical automaton was pure comedy, from the dizzying vocal pyrotechnics to a hilarious winding-down, with conductor Lai as her willing accessory. In this her eighth song, the high and long notes seemed to get higher and longer, the gravity-defying feats becoming more incredulous with each breath.

The encores formed almost another half-concert, beginning with Puccini (O Mio Babbino Caro), Strauss (Annen Polka), a Korean song (Blue Mountain) dedicated to her compatriots, and closing with Victor Herbert’s Italian Street Song. Sumi Jo’s return could not come any sooner.  

Photographs from SUMI JO's MASTERCLASS

It was rare fortune to be able to catch the brilliant Korean soprano Sumi Jo in a masterclass at the Yong Siew Toh Conservatory on Wednesday 19 February 2013. Within two rather short hours, four students sang for her, and a large audience was present to lap up what the famous coloratura diva had to share.

Unlike a lot of masterclasses where the teacher mostly mumbles to himself or herself, Sumi Jo was larger-than-life, just like the roles she portrays on stage. She got herself involved for every minute and was all ears. She even sat in the audience to hear how one of the young singers projected herself. All of the students were technically proficient, so Jo spent time to show how they could further express themselves. She sang along at times (even those snatches of song sounded celestial), and also played on the piano, partly to demonstrate each singer's range.

The audience lapped up her jokes and witticisms, and there was never a dull moment as time passed ever so quickly. Her final exhortation was that everyone was talented, but one needed to work hard at it. The ultimate aim of it all was to "make the world a better place through music."  What a goddess indeed!
  

Mezzo-soprano Tan Shi Yu sang Svegliatevi nel core
from Handel's Giulio Cesare, and Sumi Jo was very impressed.

  

Shi Yu was able to reach the soprano register when prompted
Sumi Jo cannot believe she is only 18 years old.

Soprano Melodie Tan Shi Yi sang V'adoro pupille from
Handel's Giulio Cesare, and was given the advice
to use her diaphragm more for better control.

Melodie was excellent in two melodies by Francis Poulenc,
so much so that Sumi Jo had little more to add.

Mezzo-soprano Zhang Shang got some pointers
on how to make Carmen's Seguidilla more sensuous.

When Sumi Jo addresses the audience,
they are totally attentive.

Soprano Suyen Rae shows her mettle in
Handel's Tornami a vagheggiar from Alcina.

Suyen learns that she could become a coloratura
soprano, because Sumi Jo said so!

"Work hard to make the world a better through music."

Academy of Ancient Music and Sumi Jo / Singapore Arts Festival 2011 / Review

ACADEMY OF ANCIENT MUSIC & SUMI JO
Singapore Arts Festival 2011 / Esplanade Concert Hall / Monday (16 May 2011)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 18 May 2011 with the title "Sumi Jo lights up the stage".

Those who expected superstar soprano Sumi Jo to have sung more in this concert should have a double take on the title. This was to be a concert by the Academy of Ancient Music (AAM) with Jo as its guest artist, rather than the other way around. For the record, she sang just six songs in the main programme, in between three eye-catching changes of evening gowns.

The Korean “Queen of Coloratura” made a significant departure from her usual territory of Romantic showstoppers to delve into Baroque finery. As with great singers past and present, the results were still nothing short of spectacular. If one expected her to tone down her usual fire to fit the quaint and light sound of the period instrument movement, there was to be nothing of that sort.

Singers live for the joy of vibrato, and that was what she delivered without fear. In her opening aria, Vivaldi’s Nulla In Munda Pax, the bright and luminous glow which all have come to expect was immediately apparent. Ever careful with enunciation of words, she crafted every note with pristine clarity, and never in the expense of the seamless flow of the music.

For the faster tempo and higher reaches of Handel’s Tornami a vagheggiar (from Alcina), the figurative gloves came off with dazzling short runs and long held notes, all spiced up with tasteful ornamentations, and never mere display for its own sake. In Vivaldi’s Sposa, son disprezzata (Bajazet), the lament of a forsaken wife, coloured in gloomy tones, was one deeply felt.

William Carter’s theorbo (an ancient plucked instrument) and ensemble director Richard Egarr’s harpsichord was the only accompaniment in Purcell’s Music For The Moment (Oedipus), where the full unadorned glory of Jo’s artistry could be keenly appreciated. Not one to give up on fireworks completely, this was followed by Handel’s celebratory Let The Bright Seraphim (Samson), where her joyous issues were superbly echoed by David Blackadder on the natural valveless trumpet.

People came to admire Jo’s vocal acrobatics, and they were not to be disappointed with her closing number, Vivaldi’s Agitata, da due venti (Griselda). Translated as Shaken By Two Winds, it revelled in the fast and furious. Her athleticism in quick fire repeated notes was matched by animated responses to the orchestral playing with fits of head nodding and wide smiles.

She was having a whale of a time and the expected cheers were rewarded with two substantial encores, including the sublime Laschio lo pianga from Handel’s Rinaldo. In between all that, the ensemble led by Egarr from the harpsichord had also performed two Handel concerti grosso, a Handel sonata and sinfonia (The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba), a Purcell suite and an Albinoni concerto. 150 minutes had passed ever so quickly, but more on the AAM in tomorrow’s review.

Richard Egarr speaks at a post-concert dialogue.

SUMI JO Interview (2004)

Here is the interview I did with the Korean soprano Sumi Jo before her first Esplanade concert appearance with the Singapore Symhpony Orchestra in April 2004. This was published in the April 2004 issue of BraviSSimO!, the newsletter of the SSO.

(Click on image to enlarge)

SSO Concert: SUMI JO Gala Concert / Review

SUMI JO Gala Concert
Singapore Symphony Orchestra

Lim Yau, Conductor
Esplanade Concert Hall
Wednesday (12 May 2010)

This review was published in The Straits Times on 14 May 2010.

The final concert of the SSO’s 2009-10 season was the first gala of the working year that did not disappoint. Unlike the incompetent Li Yundi and bored Sarah Chang, Korean soprano Sumi Jo totally lived up to her top billing. Witnessing an artist at the height of her powers was something special to behold.

Jo had consistently delivered in three previous concerts in Singapore, and this, her fourth was the best of the lot. Her six well-contrasted operatic arias, divided into four small groups, allowed for three changes of glittering gowns. It was her voice and sheer communicative power that sold her as the complete package.

Coloratura was a specialty, and with O luce di quest’anima (O Light of My Soul) from Donizetti’s Linda di Chamonix, an awesome show of vocal acrobatics with perfect diction and fine articulation was underway. One marveled at the ease in which she shaped the most difficult passages, colouring each song with shades of a rainbow.

In Olympia’s Aria (or the Doll’s Song) from Offenbach’s Tales Of Hoffmann, Jo’s automaton portrayal with jerky movements and Parkinsonian stare was pure comedy. Egged on by conductor Lim Yau’s “winding up” of her mechanism, the audience was in stitches. Her charisma alone ensured there were cheers even before a note was sung.

Displaying depth beyond mere showpieces, Amour, ranime mon courage (Love, Give Me Courage) from Gounod’s Romeo et Juliette saw her living out the part, fraught with anguished facial expressions. This was the moment of rarefied beauty before her lethal dose of poison. Dying divas with music to die for also distinguished Ophelia’s final Mad Scene from Ambroise Thomas’ Hamlet, where Jo was no less gripping.

Opening each half and in between aria groups, the orchestra performed overtures by Donizetti, Verdi and Offenbach, and the rarely-heard ballet music from Verdi’s Macbeth. These served as pleasant breathers, especially when played as well as this.

Jo’s generously served three encores, with an admission of unusual candour that she had under-performed one of her earlier songs. She also stopped the orchestra as it began Puccini’s O mio babbino caro (Gianni Schicchi), having missed the cue. Never mind, the audience was already lapping from her fingers. On this evening, the singer hailed as “the voice from above” would have been forgiven for anything and everything.

CD Reviews (The Straits Times, April-May 2010)

BARTOK Concertos for
Viola, Violin & Two Pianos
London Symphony / Berlin Philharmonic
PIERRE BOULEZ
Deutsche Grammophon 477 7440
****1/2

The Hungarian composer Bela Bartok (1881-1945) wrote eight works which he designated as concertos. Here are the three least familiar ones. The Double Piano Concerto (1942) was adapted from the Sonata for two pianos and percussion (1937). The orchestral adds little more to the textures dominated by the two keyboards acting as further percussion instruments. It is a rowdy rollicking affair, but pianists Pierre-Laurent Aimard and Tamara Stefanovich achieve the right blend of virtuosity, and sensitivity in the quiet “night music” segment.

The First Violin Concerto was rediscovered in 1957, having been composed five decades before. Its two movements contrast lyricism (inspired by an infatuation with a lady violinist) and folk-like gawkiness. The Viola Concerto (1945) was left uncompleted at Bartok’s death and reconstructed by Tibor Serly. It is a dark and forbidding work which finds occasional rays of sunshine. Violinist Gidon Kremer and violist Yuri Bashmet provide gripping performances that surpass the pioneering efforts by Yehudi Menuhin. With better recorded sound, these are firm recommendations for today.

MISSING YOU
SUMI JO, Soprano
DAVID FIRMAN, Piano & Conductor
Deutsche Grammophon 476 3306
*****

Subtitled Love Songs From Around The World, this is a ravishing anthology from the Korean superstar in crossover mode. Her voice is silky-smooth, always sensitive and sounding comfortable in languages including Swedish, Norwegian, Russian, Greek, Spanish, French, English and her native Korean. She is joined by tenor Alesandro Safina in De Curtis’ Neapolitan canzonetta Non ti scordar di me and the familiar Besame mucho, blending quite perfectly together.

The unifying theme here is longing and nostalgia, from simple songs like Henry Bishop’s Home, Sweet Home and Stephen Foster’s Beautiful Dreamer to dance numbers like Argentine Carlos Gardel’s Por una cabeza (tango) and Erik Satie’s Je te veux (waltz). She reserves her most treasured Korean song Mother, Sister for the end. This is pure aural candy, and unabashedly so.

BIZET Carmen
ANDREA BOCELLI et al
French Radio Philharmonic
MYUNG-WHUN CHUNG
Decca 475 7646 (2CDs)
***1/2

Only marketing hype, which places the name of Andrea Bocelli topmost on the album cover, will have you believe that the sight-impaired Italian tenor is the glory of this production. Bocelli gives a credible account as Don José, with his big Flower Aria (La fleur que tu m’avais jetée) ringing in the Euros. Stealing the show, however, is mezzo Marina Domashenko’s Carmen who is both commanding and seductive in her full-throated role. So why isn’t she given top billing instead?

Even soprano Eva Mei’s childlike innocence as Micaela is distinctive, as is baritone Bryn Terfel’s brash cameo as Escamillo in the Toreador Song. The choir is excellent in the crowd scenes but the orchestra sounds manically driven when playing on its own. At $50 this 2005 recording is an expensive pop. There are better Carmens at a far lower price.