Aurelia Butler

With neither encores nor speeches, this ensemble presented a subtly clever, cogent and complete pair of concerts at Carnegie Hall.The conductor Franz Welser-Möst is a man of few words. Or, judging by his two concerts with the Cleveland Orchestra at Carnegie Hall last weekend, no words.Dressed in his usual performance costume of white tie and tails, Welser-Möst strode to the podium, turned his back to the audience and, with the finesse that characterizes this orchestra’s performances, let the music speak for itself.If he did want to speak, he’d have a lot to talk about. Welser-Möst recently announced that he was stepping down from the Cleveland Orchestra in 2027, after 25 years as its music director. He is one of Carnegie’s Perspectives artists this season, and with these concerts was opening the hall’s festival Fall of the Weimar Republic: Dancing on the Precipice.The Clevelanders, with their evenly balanced tone and precise articulation, reflect the understated poise of their maestro. Their sound has a lovely finish: softly molded winds, round-toned brasses, strings that never turn strident. The unflashy solos captivate in the way they refuse to draw attention. When a tempo takes off, there’s no sense that the players are flustered or swept away in it. Transitions are handled with care, even perhaps too much so.Perspectives artists open their musical world, the loves and preoccupations that animate it, by organizing their own series. In March, Welser-Möst will lead the Vienna Philharmonic in three programs, and for his two last weekend, he surveyed some sounds of the Weimar era — jazz, serialism, lurid down-at-heel drama, machine music — with a rigor and cohesion that were his own.The ensemble’s meticulous and methodical approach found an inspired match on Sunday in two challenging symphonies by Prokofiev — one written during the years of the Weimar Republic (1918-1933), and one during the wartime years that followed. At first, the players’ resistance to the garishness of the Second Symphony’s blaring machine music, Prokofiev’s nod to the fashion for compositions that imitate the sounds of industry, seemed to miss the point. But it was as though Welser-Möst took apart this rusted apparatus, polished every screw and gear, and put it back together again. It whirred with magnificent efficiency; the strings, locked into repetitive patterns, threw off bright, clean sparks. The sequence of variations on a theme was kinetic, and lyrical moments wore their beauty lightly.Prokofiev’s Fifth Symphony, grandly classical in conception, with dashes of the composer’s wily idiosyncrasies, was played with lush strings and enveloping brasses. Motifs were given expansive statements, then were cut up and brought back with edge and suavity. The fourth movement had a mahogany tone of divided cellos and a finale of mechanical energy and busy tinkering before a thrilling final flourish.Felicities abounded in the programming. The first concert paired Ernst Krenek’s “Little Symphony,” a Neo-Classical mishmash of Mozart and jazz, with the Adagio from Mahler’s unfinished 10th Symphony, whose score Krenek completed at the request of Mahler’s widow, Alma. The second concert juxtaposed two symphonies that utilize a theme-and-variations form, Prokofiev’s Second and Webern’s Op. 21. Both concerts ended with some drama, with the suite from Bartok’s ballet “The Miraculous Mandarin” and Prokofiev’s Fifth, which incorporates music from his stage works.The concerts gestured at the historical context on either side of the Weimar era. Prokofiev’s Fifth represented a time when the composer was writing under Stalin’s totalitarian regime; the Mahler, the work of a turn-of-the-century composer whose legacy the Nazis tried to tarnish. As programming it felt subtly clever, cogent and complete, despite the tight focus.The flip side of the Clevelanders’ general unflappability, which served them so well in Prokofiev’s ardent, piquant musical language, was a tendency to smooth out a work’s individuality. In the Mahler, Welser-Möst charted an unbroken, long-breathed line from the violas’ mysterious sadness and the violins’ soaring romanticism to the dissonant climax, in which the piece seems to implode with its own emotional cataclysm. But Mahler’s music is too multifaceted, too spiked with peculiar about-faces, for lyrical sameness.A similar problem bedeviled the Bartok. Welser-Möst sanitized the sordid street scene that brings the curtain up, and the piece’s strong episodic structure, its constant lurching between sexuality and violence, weakened as vignettes blurred together. Trombone glissandos and trumpet blares were downright polite. As in the Mahler, the playing was tasteful to a fault.The clarinetist Afendi Yusuf beautifully rendered the solos that represent a woman who lures men off the street to be robbed; Yusuf’s playing was reluctantly beckoning at first and then more fluid, confident and complicit.An arrangement of Bartok’s Third String Quartet by Stanley Konopka, the orchestra’s assistant principal viola, worked better as a vehicle for theatrical expression. Konopka divided the ensemble into a double string orchestra and had them seated antiphonally on the stage. Some balance issues aside, it worked brilliantly well, teasing out the piece’s delicacy and aggression with an exciting, fruitful tension.At both performances, there were no encores. Perhaps Welser-Möst and the Cleveland musicians had already said everything they wanted to say. More

With her molten chest voice and commanding presence, Ms. Podles, a galvanizing Polish opera singer, developed a cult following.Ewa Podles, the Polish contralto whose darkly molten, three-octave-plus voice and commanding presence made her a favorite of opera connoisseurs, died on Friday in Warsaw. She was 71.Her death, in a hospice center, was confirmed by her stepdaughter, Ania Marchwinska, who said the cause was lung cancer.Aficionados embraced Ms. Podles (whose full name was pronounced AE-vuh PODE-lesh) not just for her exciting performances, but also for how unusual she was: True contraltos — the lowest-lying female voice type, deeper than a mezzo-soprano — are hardly common.Developing the low chest register as much as the rest of the voice, a contralto is “like an alto in the lower range, like a soprano on top,” Ms. Podles told The New York Times in 1998. And she fit that bill: Though her tone was melancholically hooded and brooding, with a cavernous chest register, she also had the high notes and agility to excel at Handel and Rossini’s most demandingly florid roles.“It’s a very rare voice,” Ms. Podles said of her instrument.And she wielded it with utter authority. “Never, for even one moment of one recitative in any opera, was she anything but riveting in her conviction,” the conductor Will Crutchfield, who collaborated with her several times, said in a phone interview. “She had something to say.”Ewa Maria Podles was born on April 26, 1952, in Warsaw to Walery and Teresa (Sawicka) Podles, a member of the chorus of the Polish National Opera.“My mother was an extraordinary singer,” Ms. Podles told The Times. “She had a very, very deep voice, like a man. She recorded a bit on the radio, but everyone who heard her asked: ‘Is it really a woman singing?’”Ms. Podles didn’t have to fight for her low notes, either. “It’s the most natural register in my voice,” she said. “I was born with this chest voice. Some people hate the chest voice, and some people say: ‘Oh, it’s magnificent. I adore you.’”She studied in Warsaw at the conservatory that is now the Chopin University of Music, and she was a prizewinner at the 1978 International Tchaikovsky Competition in Moscow. She made her Metropolitan Opera debut in 1984, taking over for the great mezzo-soprano Marilyn Horne, another singer with both earthy power and dazzling coloratura, in the title role of Handel’s “Rinaldo.” (That part, like many of Ms. Podles’s Baroque specialties, was originally written for a male castrato and is typically sung today by a lower-register female singer or a male countertenor.)While Ms. Podles was hardly unknown in American opera circles, the repertoire in which she specialized wasn’t standard fare at U.S. opera houses, and her only Met appearance after “Rinaldo” was a 2008 run in the small but crucial role of La Cieca in Ponchielli’s “La Gioconda.” Ms. Podles became something of a cult figure, one of the singers that fans make a point of traveling to hear.And, like many cult artists, she was not to all tastes. Her acting was unabashedly old-fashioned — a sometimes wide-eyed, arms-outstretched embodiment of opera’s stylized, semi-mythic side.Ms. Podles, left, with the soprano Deborah Voigt in Ponchielli’s “La Gioconda” at the Metropolitan Opera in 2008.Richard Termine for The New York TimesWell-groomed modern singers aim for a smooth, unobtrusive flow between the different parts of their voices; Ms. Podles reveled in the breaks between them. As she told The Times, gutsily relishing the chest register, as she did, is off-putting to some listeners. She said that while the top and bottom extremes of her voice came easily, the rest needed to be diligently built, and her middle register could be a bit breathy.But for many, she was unforgettable. “The sheer, round, sensuous beauty of her voice was staggering,” the eminent pianist Garrick Ohlsson, who toured and recorded with her, said in an interview. “I don’t want to make comparisons, but when I worked with Jessye Norman” — the American soprano who died in 2019 — “you had the same sense of this huge, engulfing but not piercing sound, a wide sound.”And when elemental intensity was called for, as in Mussorgsky’s cycle “Songs and Dances of Death,” Ms. Podles was ideal.“She had this mournful quality,” Mr. Crutchfield said. “She could draw you into states of sadness and lament and pain that were overwhelming in their sincerity and beauty, so you liked feeling bad with her.”Ms. Podles’s husband, Jerzy Marchwinski, a prominent pianist who curtailed his performing career because of back problems and who was a close adviser to his wife, died in November. In addition to her stepdaughter, Ms. Marchwinska, she is survived by her and her husband’s daughter, Maria Madej, and four grandchildren.Among a wide-ranging repertoire, Ms. Podles sang songs by Chopin, Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff and works with orchestra by Mahler, Brahms, Prokofiev and Penderecki. Her operatic characters extended to Verdi’s Azucena and Eboli, Adalgisa in Bellini’s “Norma,” Erda in Wagner’s “Ring” and Klytämnestra in Strauss’s “Elektra.” (She even played the bearded lady Baba the Turk in Stravinsky’s “The Rake’s Progress.”)Ms. Podles appeared onstage for the last time in Barcelona in 2017, as the comically highhanded Marquise de Berkenfield in Donizetti’s “La Fille du Régiment.”“She had that unmistakable great-singer quality,” Mr. Crutchfield said, “of holding the audience absolutely in the palm of her hand.” More

As the lead singer of the Shangri-Las, she conveyed passion, pathos and toughness — and reached the Top 40 six times while still in her teens.Mary Weiss, who in 1964 was the lead singer of the Shangri-Las’ No. 1 hit, “Leader of the Pack,” extracting every ounce of passion and pathos available in a three-minute adolescent soap opera, died on Friday at her home in Palm Springs, Calif. She was 75.Her death was announced by the author and television writer David Stenn, who had been collaborating with Ms. Weiss on a stage musical about the Shangri-Las. He said the cause was chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.“Leader of the Pack,” the Shangri-Las’ second and biggest hit, was narrated by a young woman who falls in love with a motorcycle-riding tough guy without her parents’ approval — “They told me he was bad/But I knew he was sad” — and is then left bereft when he dies in a road accident on a rainy night.Produced and co-written by Shadow Morton, the single featured call-and-response vocals, full-tilt teenage angst and motorcycle sound effects. It was excessive and melodramatic, requiring acting as much as singing, but Ms. Weiss sold it with her yearning performance. She was just 15 when it topped the charts.From left, Mary Ann Ganser, Betty Weiss and Mary Weiss of the Shangri-Las in 1965.David Dalton“I’m kind of a shy person, but I felt that the recording studio was the place that you could really release what you’re feeling without everybody looking at you,” Ms. Weiss was quoted as saying in “Always Magic in the Air,” Ken Emerson’s 2005 book about notable songwriting teams of early rock ’n’ roll. “I had enough pain in me at the time to pull off anything and get into it and sound believable.”We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber?  More

Kali Uchis’s “Orquídeas” opens at No. 2, giving the Colombian American songwriter her highest chart position yet on the Billboard 200.21 Savage, the London-born mainstay of Atlanta rap, has the first new No. 1 album of 2024 with “American Dream,” following holdovers by Taylor Swift and Morgan Wallen.“American Dream” is 21 Savage’s fourth chart-topper overall, and the first time he has led the Billboard 200 as a solo artist since “I Am > I Was” five years ago; since then, he has gone to No. 1 twice via collaborative projects with Drake (“Her Loss,” 2022) and the producer Metro Boomin (“Savage Mode II,” 2020).The album is 21 Savage’s latest since the apparent resolution of his long-running problems with his immigration status. The week before the Grammy Awards in 2019, where he had been set to perform, the 31-year-old rapper, whose real name is Shéyaa Bin Abraham-Joseph, was arrested by Immigration and Customs Enforcement for being in the United States illegally. After delays in his case, 21 Savage said in October that he had become a permanent U.S. resident.In its debut week, “American Dream,” which was announced just a few days before its release on Jan. 12 — and features guest appearances by Doja Cat, Travis Scott, Lil Durk, Young Thug and others, as well as spoken segments by the rapper’s mother, Heather Carmillia Joseph — had the equivalent of 133,000 sales in the United States. Most of that was from streaming, with nearly 170 million clicks, according to the tracking service Luminate. The 15-track LP had 4,000 sales as a complete package.Ariana Grande’s first solo song in more than three years, “Yes, And?,” opens at No. 1 on the Hot 100, her eighth track to top Billboard’s flagship pop singles chart. “Eternal Sunshine,” her next studio album, is due March 8.Also this week, “Orquídeas,” the fourth studio album by the singer Kali Uchis, which is performed primarily in Spanish, opens in second place, Uchis’s highest chart position ever. The album, whose title translates as “Orchids,” and features guest spots by Latin stars like Peso Pluma, Karol G and Rauw Alejandro, had the equivalent of 69,000 sales, including 51 million streams and 31,000 copies sold as a complete package.Wallen’s nearly year-old “One Thing at a Time,” which logged a 17th time at No. 1 last week, falls to third place this week, while Drake’s “For All the Dogs” is No. 4 and Swift’s “1989 (Taylor’s Version)” is No. 5. More

On “Saviors,” its 14th studio album, the pop-punk trio returns to stadium-sized rock.Praising a return to form is a barbed compliment at best. It implies recent missteps, a decline, the waning of youthful inspiration, the toll of a long career — perhaps all of them at once. It suggests that the sensible way forward is to double back. Still, “Saviors,” Green Day’s new album, is a decisive, even overdetermined return to form.Ever since its beginnings in the late 1980s, Green Day has stayed contentious. Billie Joe Armstrong has sung about personal grievances — including struggles with himself — as well as the ways they intersect with larger political currents, most ambitiously on the band’s 2004 concept album, “American Idiot,” which went on to be adapted into a Broadway musical.The band can still cause a stir. In recent years, Armstrong has been performing the song “American Idiot” by changing the line “I’m not a part of a redneck agenda” to end with “the MAGA agenda” instead. But when he sang that phrase on broadcast TV this past New Year’s Eve, right-wing media seized on the line to raise a fuss.“Saviors” finds contemporary targets. It opens with “The American Dream Is Killing Me,” which goes barreling ahead as Armstrong derides conspiracy theories and anti-immigrant attitudes, touches on homelessness and real-estate exploitation and declares that as a nation, “We are not well.”In “Living in the ’20s,” Armstrong confronts a decade that’s brought supermarket shootings and murder hornets, while in the quick-strummed “Strange Days Are Here to Stay,” he sings about bleak expectations: “I can’t see this ending well/Now that it’s too late.”While Green Day has pushed against power structures, it has honored musical ones. With Armstrong on guitar and vocals, Tré Cool on drums and Mike Dirnt on bass, there has always been a virtuosic neatness behind Green Day’s blare.Green Day arrived as a proud heir to the fast, blunt, tuneful, sometimes sarcastic, sometimes candid punk that the Ramones had formulated in the 1970s. As Green Day’s catalog grew, it became clearer that the band was well aware of generations of guitar bands, from its grunge contemporaries back through Van Halen, Cheap Trick, Boston and Aerosmith to the Who and the Beatles.Green Day invariably delivers precisely arranged songs with clear-cut verses, choruses and bridges. Its 1994 album, “Dookie” — with hits including “Basket Case” and “Welcome to Paradise” — heralded the commercial breakthrough of punk-pop that was simultaneously raucous and high-gloss.“Saviors” trumpets its connections to Green Day’s past. For its international tour this year — to be joined along the way by bands including Smashing Pumpkins, Rancid and the Hives — Green Day has announced it will play all the way through both “Dookie” and “American Idiot,” coinciding with their 30th and 20th anniversaries. Green Day made “Saviors” with Rob Cavallo, the co-producer of both albums, who last worked on Green Day’s three stripped-down 2012 albums “¡Uno!,” “¡Dos!” and “¡Tré!”Green Day’s more recent albums had strained to be different: noisier, murkier and often using all its resources to simulate lo-fi recording. “Saviors,” by contrast, is forthrightly lavish. Guitars and vocals are multi-layered, and the drum sound is gigantic; orchestral arrangements appear out of nowhere. The band proudly blasts again in songs like the standout track, “Dilemma,” in which Armstrong — who entered rehab after an onstage tirade in 2012 — grapples with trying to stay sober. “I don’t want to be a dead man walking,” he proclaims over stadium-shaking guitar chords.“Saviors” revisits the production approach of the so-called “loudness war” of the 1990s and 2000s, when it seemed studios sought to make, as Meat Loaf sang, “everything louder than everything else.” The waveforms of nearly every song on “Saviors” measure as what recording engineers call “brickwalled” — pushed to a constant, flattened peak. On a playlist alongside tracks that include more ups and downs, that loudness is supposed to feel exciting. But on an entire unrelenting, 15-track album, it grows wearing.Perhaps it’s inevitable that on Green Day’s 14th studio album, some of the songs have beats and chord progressions that can feel like retreads. On “Saviors,” the production often strives to offset familiarity with impact. Yet “Father to a Son” — in which an uncertain parent vows to try his best — unmistakably echoes “Wake Me Up When September Ends,” even with an orchestra now supplementing the power chords.For sonic variety, Green Day flaunts its rock scholarship. “Bobby Sox” — with Armstrong singing about the homey comforts he’d offer a girlfriend, a boyfriend or a best friend — is an outright homage to Pixies, exploding from a quiet verse to a crashing chorus. And the depressive but stubborn “Goodnight Adeline” could almost have been an arena march from Oasis.“Saviors” doesn’t hide its craftsmanship or self-consciousness, but they are a means to an end. Green Day is still angry, disgusted, worried and no longer so amused about the state of the world. This time, the band has decided to shout about it.Green Day“Saviors”(Reprise/Warner) More