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      Stephen Lawrence, Whose Music Enriched ‘Sesame Street,’ Dies at 82

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      He composed the title song of the landmark album “Free to Be … You and Me.” He then moved on to Big Bird and friends.Stephen Lawrence, who provided a soundtrack of sorts for countless childhoods as the music director for the landmark “Free to Be … You and Me” album and television special and as a longtime composer for “Sesame Street,” died on Dec. 30 at a medical center in Belleville, N.J. He was 82.His wife, Cathy (Merritt) Lawrence, said the cause was multiple organ failure.Mr. Lawrence had a gift for catchy tunes and song constructions that would appeal to young minds.“One of the most effective devices, and for children one of the most important, is repetition,” he wrote in “How to Compose Music for Children,” an essay on his blog. “Did you write a first line you like? Why not repeat it?”The essay went on to show how composers from Beethoven to John Lennon had done just that, and Mr. Lawrence employed the device often on “Sesame Street” classics like “Fuzzy and Blue (and Orange),” a jaunty 1981 number with lyrics by David Axelrod.One of Mr. Lawrence’s most captivating tunes was also one of his first for the children’s market: the title track of “Free to Be … You and Me,” the star-studded 1972 album and book conceived by Marlo Thomas. The record, full of songs and stories celebrating tolerance and busting gender stereotypes, became an enduring hit and was recently selected for inclusion in the Library of Congress’s National Recording Registry of culturally significant works.Mr. Lawrence, working with the lyricist Bruce Hart, was given the task of coming up with the opening number. A memorable folk melody recorded by the New Seekers, it begins with a banjo, an instrument not often heard in the pop and rock music of that time.“Banjo was perfect for the introduction of this song,” Mr. Lawrence said on the radio program “Soundcheck” in an interview marking the 40th anniversary of the album. “It is sort of timeless. It says joy. It says non-sophistication — although some of the album is quite sophisticated. It says: ‘Listen up. This is an unusual instrument you don’t hear every day. It’s going to set up a song you’re going to like.’”Ms. Thomas had recruited a formidable roster of stars to perform on the record. In addition to writing the music for several of the songs, Mr. Lawrence, as the project’s music director, had the task of overseeing recording sessions. That meant working with a quirky array of performers, some of them professional singers and some of them, like Mel Brooks and the football player Rosey Grier, not.Mr. Lawrence was a relative unknown at the time. Recording Diana Ross singing “When We Grow Up” (another “Free to Be” song for which he wrote the music) at Motown’s studios in Los Angeles provided him with a pinch-myself moment.“I arrived at Motown Studios and thought about the many famous recording artists who had recorded there, none more famous than Diana Ross,” he wrote on his blog. “I realized that the entire ‘Free to Be’ project was lifting my career to new heights.”The album was a runaway best seller, and Mr. Lawrence went on to compose more than 300 songs for “Sesame Street.” Beginning in 1989, he was nominated repeatedly, along with the show’s other composers and lyricists, for Daytime Emmy Awards for music direction and composition. He won three times.Mr. Lawrence didn’t work only on children’s material. He composed the music for the 1973 baseball drama “Bang the Drum Slowly,” the 1976 horror movie “Alice, Sweet Alice” and other films, and collaborated on several stage musicals.Ms. Thomas, though, said he was the perfect choice to reach young audiences.“‘Free to Be … You and Me’ was first and always a children’s project,” she said by email, “so it required a composer and musical director who could create songs that sparked the imaginations and touched the hearts of girls and boys everywhere. Stephen was that person. I loved him and I loved working with him.”Stephen James Lawrence was born on Sept. 5, 1939, in Manhattan. His father, Allan, was head of a manufacturing company, and his mother, Helen (Kupfer) Lawrence, was a homemaker.He grew up in Great Neck, on Long Island. He started taking piano lessons at 5, and at 17 he won a New York radio station’s jazz piano contest; the prize was lessons with the pianist Mary Lou Williams.While majoring in music at Hofstra College (now Hofstra University), where he graduated in 1961, he composed music for student shows and other entertainments. One was a musical, “The Delicate Touch”; the book and lyrics were by a fellow student, Francis Ford Coppola.Mr. Lawrence came to the “Free to Be” project through Mr. Hart, with whom he had written some songs and whose wife, Carole Hart, was producing the project with Ms. Thomas. The two women asked Mr. Hart and Mr. Lawrence to come up with a song that would introduce the album and convey what it was about. It was Mr. Hart who came up with the phrase “Free to be you and me” and built that idea into a full song lyric, which he presented to Mr. Lawrence.Marlo Thomas and friends in a scene from the 1974 television special “Free to Be … You and Me,” based on the record album of the same name. Mr. Lawrence was the music director for both.“As sometimes happens,” Mr. Lawrence recalled in his blog, “I got an idea right away and completed the song in one day.”The label, Bell Records, told the group to expect to sell about 15,000 copies. Instead sales soared past the million mark. A 1974 television version, with Mr. Lawrence as music director, added to the phenomenon.The Harts (he died in 2006, she in 2018) and Mr. Lawrence worked together on other projects, including the 1979 television movie “Sooner or Later,” which yielded the Rex Smith hit “You Take My Breath Away,” written by Mr. Hart and Mr. Lawrence.Mr. Lawrence began writing for “Sesame Street” in the early 1980s and continued to do so for years. The job gave him a chance to indulge in a wide assortment of musical styles. One of his earliest compositions for the show was “Kermit’s Minstrel Song” (1981, lyrics by Mr. Axelrod), which called to mind Renaissance-era tunes. Ms. Lawrence said one of her favorites was “Gina’s Dream” (lyrics by Jon Stone), in which Mr. Lawrence did a pretty good job of imitating Puccini.Mr. Lawrence lived in Bloomfield, N.J. His marriage to Christine Jones ended in divorce in 2000. In addition to his wife, he is survived by a daughter from his first marriage, Hannah Jones Anderson; Ms. Lawrence’s sons, Sam and Nicholas Kline; and a grandson. More

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      The Vitality of Black Criticism

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      Before his death, Greg Tate spoke with four other critics at the Pop Conference about the need for Black writers to face down racist institutions and take the lead in cultural conversations.Last month, popular music lost one of its greatest philosophers and storytellers: The critic, scholar, teacher, musician and New York City grass-roots cultural icon Greg Tate, a towering intellect and a modern-day griot, died at 64. His singular critical prose — in The Village Voice and Vibe, among other outlets, and collected in two anthologies — seamlessly fused dense, dazzling vernacular wisdom and street corner wit with equally intricate ivory tower analytic discourse.When I set out to organize the “dream team” lineup for a round-table session titled “Black Critics Matter” for the 2021 Pop Conference — an annual gathering of journalists, academics, musicians and other creatives — Tate was the first person I contacted. In his 40-year career as a working critic, he revolutionized the form and content of music journalism by centering Blackness as both the analytic framework to engage and experience popular music as well as the language to tell the story of the music itself in living color.Our April session included three other pioneering writers: the critic, poet, novelist, playwright, librettist and scholar Thulani Davis; the New York Times critic-at-large Wesley Morris; and the veteran music journalist Danyel Smith, the host of the “Black Girl Songbook” podcast and author of the forthcoming “Shine Bright: A Very Personal History of Black Women in Pop.” Below are edited excerpts from the hour-plus panel. (The full conversation is available here.)The conversation was wide-roving: at turns, intimate and candid, funny and incisive, moving and brutally honest, and consistently reflective and mindful of the under-acknowledged import of Black critical voices and the role that they play in challenging the racism at the foundations of cultural institutions, and the taste-making power those institutions continue to wield.We started by affirming simple truths: that Black critics have been setting the record straight and engaging Black citizenry “in the making of its own story,” as Elizabeth Méndez Berry and Chi-hui Yang wrote in 2019, across the centuries, from Frederick Douglass’s sharp observations about blackface minstrelsy to the barrier-breaking journalism of theater and music columnists like Pauline Hopkins, Sylvester Russell and Lester Walton in the late 19th and early 20th century. The long Harlem Renaissance gave us figures like Nora Holt, Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston. And Amiri Baraka and Phyl Garland wed Black nationalist desire with fierce, experimental music criticism in the Black Arts era.Their work helped lead an intellectual revolution in writing and thinking about the importance of Black sound, but also more broadly showcased the meaning of being an informed, opinionated and passionate listener dedicated to inviting readers into felt and meaningful conversations about the culture that matters to them. Greg Tate carried that tradition forward with a combination of potent love for Black peoples and a swagger fueled by that same deep and unbridled affection. In April, when the annual PopCon holds its 20th anniversary gathering in Brooklyn, it’ll be a second-line lovefest for one of its greatest voices.DAPHNE A. BROOKS Many of us have been thinking for some time about the absolutely crucial role that critics of color, that women critics, that L.G.B.T.Q. critics can and have played in shifting and opening up and challenging the kinds of conversations, the value systems, taste-making, and gatekeeping rituals and processes that have long dominated mainstream popular music criticism. If 2020 reminded us of anything, it’s that the struggle for African American autonomy in the American body politic is a multifaceted one tied to necessary and interlocking social, political as well as cultural revolutions in valuing Black life. Culture critics, we know, play a pivotal role in identifying and narrating the dimensions of that value. But in the history of popular music culture across the 20th and 21st centuries, how often have we extensively imagined Black folks as critics, as knowledge producers in relation to their own expressive cultures?GREG TATE I discovered that music critics existed because I was doing research for a comic book I wanted to write back in the early ’70s. I went to the library and got all the books about music that I could find, one of which was Amiri Baraka’s “Black Music.” And after that, I exchanged comic book superheroes for great Black music superheroes, because the way Baraka wrote about Sun Ra, Archie Shepp and Sonny Rollins and John Coltrane and Cecil Taylor elevated them to the level of superheroes to me.The way he was able to bring his poetics into writing about music and left these indelible lines — these things, they’ve formed my own critical perspective, my own critical understanding of the way in which the opportunity to talk about the music is of course the opportunity to bring our whole lives to who we are. And it’s also the reason that most of us who were writing in the ’80s and ’90s really became, or were, multidisciplinary artists. We never thought that criticism was the be all and end all of what we had to offer.Between I’d say 1977 and 2000, there was a community of Black writers in New York: The Voice first, but then The Source and then Vibe. So all of us come into the game thinking of Black criticism is something we do as a gang. And because you had the near instant gratification of response from the community, you knew what you were writing was having impact. With The Voice, if it came out on Wednesday, you knew by Saturday what people were thinking of it.WESLEY MORRIS At some point I figured out that there were definitely some gaps in terms of who was speaking and who was writing about what. I would spend hours on end watching BET, VH1 and MTV, and you start to see that there are people being put in boxes by these programmers. I mean Joan Armatrading? She was never on MTV. I could see that there were things that needed to be addressed, or redressed, in terms of who was being acknowledged, whose existences were being acknowledged. There are Black women who’ve made music that changed my life that have never received a review in any magazines. The thoroughest description I got was Vibe, when it showed up. Because I had been waiting for that. I had been waiting for people to acknowledge that there was some merit to this music.I’ve noticed in the last 10 years, say, but it’s probably even older than that, that there is a real reluctance to seriously engage with the work and the craft of the work and what pop music is doing, what it sounds like. I don’t know if that’s a fear of getting it wrong. I don’t know if that’s a fear of what Twitter might do to you if you do get it wrong. This is related to a question of ethics, which is what is falling in that lacuna between greatness and crap that only criticism can both explicate and reify in some way. To me, it feels like a crisis that nobody’s really acknowledging, but I think that’s because there still aren’t enough Black people to pick that work up and do something.DANYEL SMITH Listen, it’s the criticism that’s missing in action without question. I am consistently, constantly in a mild panic about the music that has been created over the last 15 to 20 years that has not been listened to like it’s real music. I am concerned about artists like Cardi B and Drake, who are literally the biggest stars in the entire world, and their music is not talked about with a lot of seriousness. Comparing it to what happened in the past, comparing it to what could happen in the future, the context of when it came out to when it didn’t. Again, as an editor, I say, what about the knowing, deeply reported stories and the profiles that are not being written? The columns?It has to do, I think with there being a generation of Black writers who have not really ever worked with Black editors. And I think, flawed as we were, at Vibe, XXL, The Source, Essence — there were hip-hop magazines all over — there has not been enough of “I’m a Black editor that knows a lot; and I’m a Black writer that wants to know more.” I don’t know where they’re happening. Not nearly enough, anyway.TATE Well, I’ll first say, and this is in response to Wesley: Internet killed the Black music journalist star or the Black music star publication. But that was a different world we existed in just in terms of the power that labels had, right? If you wanted your music, you had to get it in a CD form from a major label. So the work we did as independent writers, and as “Blacketty-Black” as we were in the writing, it was very much tied to the commercial life of those publications: the ads The Voice got, Vibe got, Source got from labels. So on just a base level, what we were doing was glorified consumer reporting. That’s why those voices mattered, but what also happened around 2000 and in the arts was that the published pool of writers on hip-hop shifted more from Black to white. Why? Most of our colleagues by that time had just moved out of doing music journalism at all. People grew up, they had marriages, they had kids, kids needed to be fed and properly clothed and sent to the right school. And hip-hop at that point blew up in the suburbs in a major way. But the thing was that notion of Black writing being essential to one’s understanding of the culture, where the culture was no longer the culture as we’d known it in ’70s, ’80s and ’90s.BROOKS: But let’s be real, right. We know historically that jazz and blues criticism has been the domain of white men.TATE Yeah and certainly, that’s the radical transformation that hip-hop criticism offers. It was the first time in the history of the music that Black writers were writing about it authoritatively as it was being created.THULANI DAVIS But I want to say there, you all are talking out of a wealth of information …. This is the moment to teach young people that they’re in a continuum, because I don’t know that they’re aware of that. The one thing about the ’60s and the ’70s was everybody got some education about what happened before them and what the continuum was like. This is a particularly good time to ask, “What is it that the critic needs to know?” Because any critic of anything needs to know something more than the last 25 years of their lives. They need to know everything you all have been talking about.I think also there’s this idea that everybody has a platform, everybody can be a platform …. I do think people have to think about working together, because one of the things about the culture right now, it’s one star at a time. The collective conversation would be useful. We need to keep asking how do we push awareness, taste, interesting writing styles? How do we push forward? I think it can’t be one at a time. I don’t think that’ll work in the way that information is disseminated now.TATE I just want to paraphrase Baldwin: “Ours is a story that must be told again and again and again, because the erasure goes on as the culture is emerging.” You can’t reboot the institutional access that we had in that particular moment because of how incendiary the culture was in that period. People were coming up with new paradigms for what hip-hop or rap was every week, it changed. There was just an understanding that there needed to be writers who were on the ground, who got it, who lived it, embodied it at a certain level.We haven’t even tracked the kind of self-making, cultural transformation of the landscape that got affected by all this writing, by these gangs of folks being at these institutions at that particular time. The conversation about hip-hop that is still sustained is the one that we created in the ’80s and ’90s. And it extended, of course, to what was happening in Black academia, what was happening in Black film.BROOKS So it means that at the point in which we’re writing about popular music, for instance, we’re asking questions that start with, “What are the conditions that created this music in the first place?” We need to start at that level. We need to start at 1619 before we can actually get to the place of critics being able to dissect and write really beautifully about the richness, the depth, the urgency and complexity of what our music is, why we made it, what it means to us. It’s a 400-year story. More

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      Review: A Conductor Adds Her Name to Philharmonic Contenders

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      As the orchestra searches for a new music director, Susanna Mälkki was given the distinction of leading it at Carnegie Hall.It’s auditions season at the New York Philharmonic — and not for a seat among its players. With Jaap van Zweden, the orchestra’s music director, having announced in September that he will depart in 2024, every guest conductor now takes the podium with the search for his replacement looming.This game of Fantasy Baton is complicated by the fact that the Philharmonic is wandering while David Geffen Hall is renovated, playing sometimes unfamiliar repertory in unfamiliar (and perhaps uncongenial) spaces. But the fall brought good reviews for Dalia Stasevska, Simone Young, Giancarlo Guerrero and Dima Slobodeniouk.No guest so far, though, has received a platform like Susanna Mälkki got on Thursday. Making her fourth appearance with the Philharmonic, she is the only outsider to be granted one of the orchestra’s four dates this year at Carnegie Hall, its home until Lincoln Center was built in the 1960s and where it had not appeared since 2015. (Van Zweden leads the other three Carnegie concerts, this spring.)The chief conductor of the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, Mälkki presided over a program tailor-made for a Finnish conductor’s tryout with an ensemble across the Atlantic: two beefy, brassy American works followed after intermission by one of Finland’s most famous symphonic exports, Sibelius’s Fifth.Adolphus Hailstork’s 1984 overture “An American Port of Call” depicts Norfolk, Va., as a mixture of bustling activity and sweet nocturnal relaxation. Mälkki brought out piquant touches, like some characterful wails of clarinet, and the tidal undercurrent of the low strings at certain moments even anticipated the grand “swan call” climax of the Sibelius.She patiently, persuasively built that symphony’s fitful first movement, and the whole work had a feeling of straightforwardness, lightness and modesty; neither tempos nor emotions were milked; the performance was more lovely than intense. Ensemble sonorities in the winds and brasses were clean, if not pristine or particularly atmospheric — though Judith LeClair, the orchestra’s principal bassoon, brought gorgeously buttery foreboding to her important solo.A former section cellist before embarking on her conducting career, Mälkki was unafraid of encouraging some aggression in the strings: a few forceful accents in the first movement and, most arresting, a slapping spiccato burr in the double basses during the stirring swan motif in the finale. But the chords at the end, in some performances slashing and stark, were here warm, resonant, full, even mellow.John Adams’s Saxophone Concerto is almost the same half-hour length as the symphony, but felt far longer on Thursday. The distinguished soloist, Branford Marsalis, made a tender sound in some lullaby-like passages, but often Adams’s virtuosically burbling fabric of alto-sax notes seemed to vanish into the dense orchestral textures — sometimes inaudible, sometimes just bland in color and bite. Occasionally rousing for some of this composer’s trademark peppy rhythmic chugging, and a fun section riffing on “The Rite of Spring,” the 2013 work as a whole felt muted and glum, with a tinkling celesta nagging.This was my first time hearing the piece live, so I can’t be sure whether these balance and energy problems are common. But the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra’s recording under David Robertson — with Timothy McAllister, for whom the concerto was composed, as soloist — makes a far better, more seductive and varied case for it than Thursday’s performance.As for the Philharmonic’s future, Gustavo Dudamel — whom the orchestra’s chief executive, Deborah Borda, recruited in her last job to lead the Los Angeles Philharmonic — conducts two weeks of Schumann in March. He and others appearing in the coming months, like Jakub Hrusa, Santtu-Matias Rouvali, Tugan Sokhiev and Long Yu, could all be considered music director contenders.Mälkki deserves to be on that list, too. But perhaps the best indication of the field will come soon, when the orchestra announces its lineup for next season, its return to the renovated Geffen Hall. Game on.New York PhilharmonicPerformed on Thursday at Carnegie Hall, Manhattan. More

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      Scrambling but Undaunted, the Met Opera Sings Through Omicron

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      The variant has upended Broadway, ballet and concerts. But the Met has yet to miss a performance, thanks to strict rules, fill-in artists and luck.The Metropolitan Opera had to scramble to find a replacement for its “Magic Flute” conductor after she tested positive for the coronavirus last month. When a wicked stepsister in “Cinderella” tested positive shortly before a performance in late December, the Met enlisted a soprano from another production to sing the role from the wings while a dancer acted it onstage.And earlier this week, when the star of its new production of “Rigoletto,” the baritone Quinn Kelsey, exhibited cold symptoms, the Met insisted on using an understudy, even though Kelsey had not yet tested positive for the virus and had just received some of the best reviews of his career.The Met’s prudence paid off. Kelsey later tested positive, and the rest of the cast had been spared a close contact.The Omicron variant has toppled a slew of Broadway shows, disrupted dance productions, postponed festivals, forced the cancellation of dozens of concerts, and closed the mighty Vienna State Opera for almost a week. But it has yet to stymie the Metropolitan Opera, the largest American performing arts organization, which has not missed a performance this season.Undaunted by the sharp rise in coronavirus cases, the Met has staged more than three dozen performances since late November, including productions of “Tosca,” “The Magic Flute,” “Cinderella” and “Rigoletto.” More than 3,000 people, who wore masks and showed proof of vaccination, filled the auditorium on New Year’s Eve. Rehearsals are in full swing for another two dozen performances this month, each involving hundreds of people: solo singers, orchestra players, chorus members, dancers, actors, stagehands, follow-spot operators, dressers and makeup artists, among many others.More than 3,000 people, who wore masks and showed proof of vaccination, filled the Met for the premiere of “Rigoletto” on New Year’s Eve.Richard Termine for The New York Times“We’re doing everything we possibly can to keep the Met open,” Peter Gelb, the company’s general manager, said in an interview. “I’m determined not to cancel a performance.”The Met’s success so far in managing the surge can be attributed to a number of factors: strict health protocols, a robust system of understudies, the advantages that come from its structure as a large repertory company that mounts a different opera each day — and, to be sure, a dose of luck.“There’s a sense of, ‘We can do this!’” said Sarah Ina Meyers, who directed the revival of “The Magic Flute,” which completed a nine-performance run on Wednesday with the help of far more cover artists than usual. “We’re trying to lift each other up.”Still, Meyers added, after weeks of grappling with last-minute cast changes, drafting and then tearing up plans, “there is profound hope that we can go back to the normal level of crazy.”The Met’s health protocols are among the strictest in the performing arts. The company now gives all employees P.C.R. tests three times a week, recently began having singers wear face masks even at dress rehearsals, and soon will require employees and audiences to have received booster shots to enter its building.The company had a robust system of fallbacks even before the pandemic struck, since its singers must be at their physical best to fill its cavernous opera house without the aid of amplification, and illnesses, whether hay fever or flu, have always required last-minute substitutions. Unlike Broadway, where shows often assign one actor to serve as an understudy for multiple roles, the Met appoints at least one cover for every role, greatly reducing its chances of having to cancel.Being a huge repertory company helps, too. Since it stages a different opera each night, with several titles in rotation onstage and others in rehearsal at any given time, the Met has a large pool of singers and crew members to draw on when a crisis erupts.And since the company performs a great deal of standard repertory, often in productions that remain the same for years, when a singer falls ill it is usually possible to find another who already knows the part (and even the staging) well. There tend to be several days between performances of each title — so a mild illness might only require missing a couple of shows.By pushing forward, the Met’s leaders hope to signal that the opera house can get through the turmoil of the pandemic and beyond. “The fact that we are performing provides a beacon of hope to our audiences and to our donors,” said Gelb, who tested positive for the virus late last month and had to watch live feeds of several key rehearsals from home. “We just have to make sure we survive the pandemic.”Omicron came just as the company was beginning to feel more confident after losing over $150 million in anticipated revenues because of the pandemic. While ticket sales in the fall were overall about 10 to 20 percent below prepandemic levels, there were several successes: a popular new production, “Fire Shut Up in My Bones,” the company’s first work by a Black composer; the staging of a six-hour work, Wagner’s “Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg,” the longest in the Met’s repertory; and a revival of Puccini’s “La Bohème” that was a hit with audiences and critics.As Omicron began to spread, the Met moved to strengthen its virus-control measures. Since the beginning of the 2021-22 season, it has required employees and audience members to be fully vaccinated and to wear masks inside the opera house.Quinn Kelsey, standing, and Craig Colclough wore masks while rehearsing for “Rigoletto” last month.Julieta Cervantes for The New York TimesThen P.C.R. testing of employees and artists increased to three times a week, from twice. The Met began to more strictly enforce a policy prohibiting employees with cold-like symptoms from entering the opera house, even if they have tested negative for the virus. It has also discouraged its employees from attending indoor social gatherings.The rules have been burdensome, especially for singers, many of whom find wearing masks while rehearsing awkward. But after going without stable work for much of the pandemic, as the Met and other institutions were closed, they have complied.“It’s uncomfortable, it’s something that we wish we didn’t have to do,” Kelsey, the Rigoletto, said of the masking requirement. “But at the end of the day it just means we’re that much closer, we hope, to putting all this mess behind us.”Even with the health protocols, the coronavirus has wrought havoc, sidelining singers, orchestra players, dancers, actors and stage hands. Since Thanksgiving, 124 people have tested positive for the virus among the Met’s stage crew, construction, wardrobe, wig and makeup, and costume departments, though most are now back at work.In the orchestra, eight people have tested positive; they, too, are largely working again. The Met has a pool of extra musicians who play regularly even when there are no illnesses, making substitutions relatively easy. (New York City Ballet, which halted its jam-packed “Nutcracker” schedule on Dec. 21, had instituted a rule that three connected virus cases within the company would spur a shutdown, to prevent further spread.)When Kelsey came down with cold-like symptoms this week, his cover, Michael Chioldi, jumped into action, getting fitted for costumes and going over technical cues just a few hours before the performance.“It’s been very stressful,” Chioldi said in a telephone interview from his dressing room shortly before his debut on Tuesday. “We’re just really, really hoping and praying that the Met stays open and that we can fill in when people go out, because inevitably people are going to get the virus.”Linda Gelinas (right, with Maya Lahyani in green and Stephanie Blythe) jumped in to act one of the stepsisters in “Cinderella” while Vanessa Becerra sang the role from the wings.Met OperaWhen the singer playing the stepsister in “Cinderella” became ill, the Met brought in a soprano, Vanessa Becerra, who happened to be taking part in “The Magic Flute.” She sang the role from the wings while Linda Gelinas, a former Met principal dancer who had not performed with the company in six years, acted it.With only a few hours to prepare, Gelinas studied videos and raced to memorize stage directions.“I thought it was a joke, but then I very soon realized, ‘Oh my gosh, they’re serious,’” Gelinas said. “Once the decision was made, we just went full speed ahead.”With Omicron infections still rising, it is unclear whether the Met can maintain its streak — and whether audiences will continue to turn out in large numbers. Attendance has been uneven in recent weeks. While it was 87 percent at the New Year’s Eve opening of “Rigoletto,” “Tosca” is expected to end its run this month at just 55 percent.But opera fans have celebrated the Met’s ability to remain a bastion of live music even as other venues have taken a pause.JunHyeok Lee, 27, a student at Baruch College from South Korea who attended the “Rigoletto” opening, said he felt privileged to be there at a time of uncertainty about the virus.“It’s a great blessing,” Lee said. “I’ll go every time unless the Met stops.” More

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      After Killing of Einar, Sweden Struggles With 'Gangster Rap'

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      Hip-hop, the country’s most popular music, has quickly become a lightning rod for Sweden’s long-roiling problems with gun violence and gang warfare.STOCKHOLM — Sweden had never seen anything like Einar. A hyperactive and self-assured young artist in a place increasingly obsessed with global hip-hop, by 19 he was one of the biggest rappers the country had ever produced.Born Nils Gronberg, Einar had the face of a puppy dog, the flow of an international rap connoisseur and the chest-puffed lyrics of a hardened gang member. He was also white and born in Sweden, a loaded distinction in a scene where most rappers come from immigrant backgrounds.Raised mostly by a single mother, Einar was noticed by age 10, with videos of his childhood freestyles shared regularly online. Later, while living in a home for wayward teenagers, he broke through with only his third song, a steely lover-boy track that topped the country’s pop charts. Soon, he was a dominant force on Spotify, becoming Sweden’s most-listened-to act in 2019, ahead of global giants like Ed Sheeran.Einar was huge on Spotify, and became Sweden’s most-listened-to act on the streaming service in 2019.Henrik Montgomery/TT News Agency, via Associated PressBut one night in October, the country’s biggest crossover star became its foremost cautionary tale, shot multiple times and left to die outside his home.“We heard pom, pom, pom,” said Dumlee, an aspiring rapper who was with Einar that night. Dumlee, a convicted rapist affiliated with a gang called Death Patrol, said in an interview that he and Einar scattered to hide before he heard more shots minutes later: “Bam, bam, bam, bam.”Einar’s killing, which remains unsolved, has rocked Sweden’s rap scene. His fate and the violence that swirled around him in life have also put a very Swedish face on issues that have for years been roiling beneath the surface here, and given fresh urgency to debates in the political mainstream about rising gun violence, immigration and gang warfare.Some lawmakers, newspapers and parents have been left questioning the role of the music they have labeled — in a 1990s throwback — “gangster rap.”“We have never seen something like this before,” said Petter Hallen, a veteran rap journalist and D.J. who hosts a show on the Swedish public service radio station P3 Din Gata.He compared the situation to the societal strife that erupted in the United States around the killings of the Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac Shakur in the 1990s, and more recently around the style of rap known as drill music in both Europe and the United States.“You have the politicians involved, the media, the rap fans, celebrity culture, public service, taxpayer money, influencer culture, youth culture, race — all these ripples in all directions of Swedish society,” Hallen added, describing the confluence of factors that have captivated this Nordic country of 10 million people.More associated with Abba than with sharp-edged rap, Sweden has for at least six years been struggling with a tide of gang violence that has contributed to its shift from one of the safest countries in the world to among Europe’s most violent. Last year, there were at least 342 shootings resulting in 46 deaths (up from 25 shootings in 2015), along with dozens of bombings.That carnage had long been seen as an issue confined to ethnically diverse outer “suburbs,” where poorer housing feels dislocated from the gleaming wealth of the country’s largely white city centers.But Einar’s death — in a rich part of Stockholm, rather than a suburb — has broadened the debate and finger-pointing, with some saying rap has become a convenient boogeyman, especially with elections scheduled for this year.Shortly after the shooting, Mikael Damberg, Sweden’s interior minister at the time, told reporters that the culture around the music could drive people toward gangs. Hanif Bali, a member of the conservative Moderate Party, who last year complained about a major music award going to a rapper with a criminal conviction, said in an interview at Sweden’s parliament that radio stations should stop playing music by anyone found guilty of gang crime.Einar’s death has given fresh urgency to debates in the political mainstream about rising gun violence, immigration and gang warfare.Henrik Montgomery/TT News Agency, via Associated PressMany Swedish rappers, especially Einar’s peers from neighborhoods like Rinkeby at the end of Stockholm’s subway lines, feel as if they are being used to deflect attention from politicians struggling to deal with crime.“How many rappers are there that are famous in Sweden? It’s, like, 20,” said Sebastian Stakset, the artist known as Sebbe Staxx, a member of the country’s first prominent gangster-rap group, Kartellen. “How many kids are there with guns out in the areas? Thousands.”“They’re just a reflection of a much bigger problem,” he said.Panic ZoneFor decades in the United States, rap has been tied to moral panics and blamed for urban violence. Europe, too, has recently seen swelling concern regarding its drill scenes, where deep bass lines combine with stark, hyperlocal descriptions of living, feuding and dying in struggling neighborhoods.Sweden’s growing problems with crime perhaps make it more susceptible to concern about the genre. When Magdalena Andersson became the country’s first female prime minister at the end of November, she used her first policy speech to assail gangs.In December, Dagens Nyheter, Sweden’s newspaper of record, published an analysis of everyone arrested or prosecuted for gun offenses since 2017. About 85 percent were people born abroad, or had at least one parent who was. Some 71 percent belonged to the country’s lowest income group. Most of the country’s highest-profile rappers come from such backgrounds.Some of those rappers started their careers in the suburbs by making amateur videos known as “freeslaktish” that require little more than a camera phone and a car, or a courtyard crowded with friends. Others began making tracks in youth centers established to help young people avoid crime, said Diamant Salihu, the author of a much-discussed Swedish book published last year about the ongoing battle between two gangs, Shottaz and Death Patrol.Salihu said the Stockholm police have linked some of Sweden’s biggest rap stars, including Yasin and Jaffar Byn, to Shottaz.“As the conflict got bigger and more brutal, the rappers became more involved as they had to pick sides, and that made them targets,” Salihu added during a walk around Rinkeby, where he pointed out the sites of 10 killings since 2015, including a cafe and a pizzeria.Artists sometimes ratcheted up tensions by referencing suspected gang members and memorializing dead or jailed friends in tracks and videos, Salihu said. As in the United States, a thriving Swedish underground media ecosystem of YouTube pages, Instagram accounts and other social networks document and dissect the music, personalities and conflicts of those associated, often making stars and inflaming beefs at the same time.“This all became a spectator sport for rap fans,” Hallen said, “and people interested and drawn to and fascinated by street crime.”Salihu titled his book after a quote the artist Jaffar Byn gave to authorities after an arrest. When police asked how long the gang violence would last, he replied, “Until everyone dies.”After his kidnapping, Einar addressed his rivals even more forcefully in music and on social media.Christine Olsson/TT News Agency, via Associated PressExtortion ThreatBeyond intermittent tough-guy lyrics, Einar’s potential gang affiliations were only the subject of whispered speculation. But in March of 2020, he became a target.Authorities said later in court that the Varby Network, one of Sweden’s most notorious gangs, first intended to kidnap the teenager after a studio session that month with Yasin, who was Einar’s only competition as Sweden’s top rapper at the time.That plot failed, but around two weeks later, the group succeeded, kidnapping Einar following another studio date with the artist Haval. Einar was forced to pose for photographs, bloodied, in women’s lingerie, with a knife against his neck. The gang demanded 3 million Swedish krona (around $331,000) to stop the release of the pictures.Later, they attempted to place a bomb outside the rapper’s house to increase pressure. Einar refused to pay.Swedish police only uncovered details of the crime after gaining access to Encrochat, an encrypted phone network. After a high-profile trial, Yasin and Haval were sentenced for their roles in the plots. Both men, whose representatives declined to comment for this story, are appealing their convictions, and Yasin was released on Dec. 28, having served his sentence.Einar declined to cooperate in the trial, but his mother, Lena Nilsson, testified. In the months that followed, the young rapper addressed his rivals even more forcefully in music and on social media, with some seeing his new tracks as subliminally goading those he held responsible for his assault. On Oct. 9, Einar was arrested along with two others following a stabbing in a Stockholm restaurant. He was not charged. Less than three weeks later, on Oct. 21, he was dead.A lawyer for Einar’s family did not respond to multiple requests to comment for this article. But the musician’s mother recently addressed the debate around her son’s death on Instagram, writing, “Most of the rappers are not criminals, they are artists. They tell of a horrible reality we have in Sweden.”“I, like many mothers, lost a son in the horrible violence,” Nilsson added. “Our hearts are torn from our breasts.”‘All About the Money’With increased fan focus, political pressure and law-enforcement scrutiny now on Sweden’s rappers, many in the country are debating whether the still-young genre can change — or if it should even have to.More than a dozen local rappers and their associates approached for this article declined to be interviewed, citing fears of being stereotyped or drawing unwanted attention.But those who did speak freely said they didn’t feel any need to change what they rapped about, and not just because it reflected reality. “That’s what’s selling right now,” said the artist known as Moewgli, who collaborated with Einar on several hit singles and served prison time for robbery. “If something sells, I’m going to do it,” he said. “I’m all about the money.”Dumlee, the aspiring rapper linked to the gang Death Patrol, said politicians would soon move on. In December, he was preparing to release a track called “Bunt” that included a line aimed directly at Shottaz, Death Patrol’s rivals, with little concern for inciting further tension.Stakset — the Swedish hip-hop trailblazer and a mentor to Einar who made several tracks with the younger rapper, and now helps gang members leave crime — pointed back to the government. For decades, politicians of all stripes had been letting problems in the suburbs, including education and housing, worsen, he said.“They tried to sweep everything under the carpet,” Stakset said. But after Einar’s killing, he added, “the carpet’s not big enough.”Alex Marshall reported from Stockholm and Joe Coscarelli from New York. Nicholas Ringskog Ferrada-Noli contributed reporting from Stockholm. More

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      Britney Spears Has Always Fought Back. By Dancing.

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      Before, during and now after the conservatorship that oversaw her life for 13 years, the pop star has used dance to assert her power and connect with her audience.When Britney Spears spoke out in June during a hearing in Los Angeles Superior Court, she talked about how those in charge of her conservatorship had strictly governed her life for 13 years, calling the arrangement “abusive.” But she also emphasized one way she had held on to some control.She kept on dancing.She “actually did most of the choreography,” she said, referring to 2018 rehearsals for her later scuttled “Britney: Domination” residency in Las Vegas, “meaning I taught my dancers my new choreography myself.”There was “tons of video” of these rehearsals online, she said, adding: “I wasn’t good — I was great.”It was a powerful way of reminding those listening of the confidence she conveyed as a performer throughout her career. Onstage, Spears maintained control over her body, otherwise the subject of constant scrutiny — about her virginity, her weight, her wardrobe. Through movement, she conjured a world of her own making in which she really was the boss.With her expansive arm gestures, rapid-fire turns and abdominal dexterity, Spears has always used dance to communicate her strength. Brian Friedman, the choreographer responsible for some of Spears’s most famous routines, noted that there was a visible change in her approach to dancing after the conservatorship was put in place in 2008.“I feel like that was her way of being able to be in control of something, because she didn’t have control over so much,” Friedman said in a phone interview. “So by being able to step into the studio and say ‘I don’t want to do this, I want to do this, I’m going to make up my own thing,’ it gave her some kind of power.”When Spears announced “an indefinite work hiatus” in early 2019, she began posting videos of herself dancing to Instagram. Most of these clips show her twirling alone, in a loose, visibly improvised style, on the marble floor of her California home.In the videos, she looks straight at the camera, breaking her gaze only for the occasional turn, or to flip her hair. This isn’t the movement of the practiced stage performer and pop star; it’s more exploratory, as if she were searching for the right step or feeling instead of trying to nail it.Under the conservatorship, Spears’s videos became the subject of debate and speculation. While some fans cheered her on, others were bothered by her lack of polish and level stare. “Does anyone ever feel awkward or uncomfortable watching this?” someone asked in the comments of a post in February.For Spears, though, the point was simple. It’s about “finding my love for dancing again,” she wrote in a March post. In others, she said that she moves like this for up to three hours a day, taping her feet to avoid getting blisters.For dancers and choreographers who have worked with Spears, her Instagram’s focus on dance made sense. “In a period of time when she did not have freedom, that gave her freedom,” Friedman said.Sharing her improvised dance sessions also allowed her to connect directly with fans. Brooke Lipton, who danced with Spears from 2001 to 2008, said in a phone interview that Spears’s “dancing told the world she needed help — without saying anything, because she couldn’t.”If Spears can still show off the occasional fouetté turns, in which she spins on one leg, it’s because of a lifetime training in the dance studio. Lipton, Friedman and others say that Spears matched the range and commitment of professional dancers, with a preternatural knack for picking up choreography on the fly.“She grew up dancing,” said Tania Baron, who started performing at shopping malls with the budding star in 1998. “There are artists who dance certain parts of a show. There are artists who are just natural movers. Then you’ve got people like Britney, who can really dance just like her dancers.”Spears’s care and attention to how she presented herself in movement speak to how she understood her body as a dancer does — as an artistic instrument. Top-level choreographers might have been creating dances for her, but they were also working for other pop stars. The difference, Elizabeth Bergman, a scholar of commercial dance, said in a phone interview, is “the way she’s doing them.”In the years before the conservatorship, Spears carefully chose the choreographers she worked with. Valerie Moise, also known as Raistalla, who danced in Spears’s concerts and videos in 2008 and 2009, points out that these collaborations contributed to the longstanding popularity of jazz funk, known for its defiant, hard-hitting moves.“This is a style that is almost like a culture to her,” Moise said in a phone interview. “It accentuates how she wants to express herself.”And Spears did something more than just continue in the tradition of the pop artists who danced before her.“Of course there was Madonna, and Michael and Janet, and they were fantastic,” Lipton said. “But dance was also evolving at a time when Wade and Brian were stepping up the expectations of what dancers could do,” she added, referring to Spears’s frequent choreographers, Wade Robson and Friedman. Their routines were faster than those of the previous generation, with more movement and action per beat. “Every count was being filled,” Lipton said.When learning routines from choreographers, Spears would speak up when they included steps that did not feel right on her body, sometimes suggesting her own moves instead. “She was very much the boss,” Baron said about Spears at the beginning of her career. “Not in a mean way. But if she didn’t like something, she would make it known.”From an early age, Spears recognized dance as a medium in which presence and artistry can’t be faked. “When you’re dancing, you just can’t do a step, you’ve got to get into it,” she said when she was a 12-year-old star of “The Mickey Mouse Club.”Randy Connor, who choreographed Spears’s routine in the classic “ … Baby One More Time” video, said he believed her ability to convey her feelings with and through her body was a major part of her initial star appeal. “It resonated with so many people because of her conviction in the movement,” he said in a phone interview.Coming up in an industry known for its artifice, Spears used dance as a means of transparency with fans. Everyone knows there is no such thing as dance-syncing.“That was truly how she communicated as an artist,” Friedman said. Even before the start of Spears’s conservatorship, he added, “she couldn’t really say everything she wanted in public, in interviews. But when she danced, it was unapologetic.”Spears’s songs became coming-of-age and coming-out anthems, and learning her moves enabled fans to explore aspects of their identities with the same boldness she projected with her body. Imitating her performances allowed them to “feel the spirit of Britney,” as Jack says on the TV show “Will & Grace,” after doing the shoulder lifts and arm pumps that are part of the routine to “Oops! … I Did It Again.”Lipton emphasizes that Spears chose her steps so that anyone watching could move along with her.“She would do the choreography just a little bit less,” Lipton said. “In a moment where we’re doing all of these turns and slams, she just smiles and points her fingers out, before joining back in. It wasn’t unattainable.”If Spears embraced her strength in movement along with her fans, many commentators did not, often describing her dancing as if it were a ploy used to compensate for lack of talent. Other young female pop stars like Jessica Simpson and Avril Lavigne boasted about not dancing, as if this made them more authentic artists. In 2002, The Associated Press identified a crop of “Anti-Britneys” who supposedly challenged the idea that you have to “cavort in tight clothes to be sexy and successful in pop music.”Friedman says that Spears’s dancing was about her artistry, not manufactured sex appeal.“As Britney’s choreographer for many years, I never set out to make movements to pleasure anyone else,” he said. “It was about how I could make her feel empowered in her body.”In the 2008 documentary “Britney: For the Record,” filmed in the early days of the conservatorship, Spears speaks as if already aware of how important dance would become for her under the control of others.“Dancing is a huge part of me and who I am. It’s like something that my spirit just has to do,” she says. “I’d be dead without dancing.”Arguing for the conservatorship’s termination 13 years later, she identified one of her breaking points as the moment when she was refused the right even to this control over her body. Spears said that at a dance rehearsal in early 2019, after saying that she wanted to modify a step in the choreography, she was informed that she was not cooperating.She declared her response firmly in court: “I can say no to a dance move.” More

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      Judith Davidoff, Master of Long-Dormant Instruments, Dies at 94

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      A master of the viola da gamba and other stringed instruments, she was a central part of the early-music scene.Judith Davidoff, who mastered an assortment of stringed instruments not widely played for centuries, especially the cello-like viola da gamba, and became a leading proponent and player of early music, died on Dec. 19 at her home in Manhattan. She was 94.Her children, Max Rosen and Rebekah Rosen-Gomez, confirmed the death.Ms. Davidoff was trained as a cellist, and she was a good one.“She was an absolutely amazing sight reader,” Lisa Terry, a fellow musician who learned from her, said in a phone interview. That skill had Ms. Davidoff in demand for recording sessions.But while she was studying the cello as a teenager, something caught Ms. Davidoff’s eye.“Inevitably as I got involved in the repertoire, I began to notice music for an instrument called the viola da gamba,” she told The Intelligencer Journal of Lancaster, Pa., in 1983. “I got curious as a teenager to know what this instrument was.”That instrument was a bowed and fretted fiddle, held mostly between the legs, that first became popular in the late 15th century and flourished throughout the Renaissance and Baroque periods.Curiosity led to a passion for early music and the instruments used to perform it. First in Boston, then in New York, Ms. Davidoff became part of an early-music scene that was gaining momentum in the middle of the last century and became a major force in classical music, even influencing how works from later periods were performed.Over the years she was a member of numerous ensembles, including the Boston Camerata, the Cambridge Consort and New York Pro Musica. She was a founding member of the group Music for a While and, in 1972, created the New York Consort of Viols. She also played vintage instruments on numerous recordings.She liked to devise programs that, in addition to showcasing the music, had an educational element. One program she created with the Consort of Viols, for instance, was called “The Road From Valencia” and featured Renaissance works by Jewish composers and viol players who, having been expelled from Spain in 1492, made their way to Italy and, in some cases, to the court of Henry VIII in England.Her knowledge of instruments of yore was vast. With a nod to Alfred Hitchcock’s “The 39 Steps,” she once worked up an educational program she called “The 39 Strings” featuring seven vertically held bowed instruments that had come into and out of fashion — the rebec, the vielle, the two-stringed Chinese erhu, medieval fiddles and more. Collectively, the seven instruments had 39 strings and represented eight centuries of music.“Our musical experiences have been enhanced by each successive period and style,” she told The Northern Valley Suburbanite when she presented the program in Englewood, N.J., in 2002.Judith Davidoff — she continued to perform under her own name after her marriage to Sumner Rosen in 1949 — was born on Oct. 21, 1927, in Chelsea, Mass. Her father, Sidney, was a composer and musician, and her mother, Ruth (Feinstein) Davidoff, was a teacher.Judith started her musical studies at 7, and at 18 she performed as a cello soloist with the Boston Pops. She studied at Radcliffe College and the Longy School of Music, earning a soloist diploma.A few years after she first became curious about the viola da gamba, she heard the early music group the Boston Camerata and spoke to some of its members after the concert, expressing her interest in learning the instrument. One member was leaving the group and offered to sell Ms. Davidoff her instrument; another offered to teach it to her; a third told her she could probably join the group once she mastered it.“I had the instrument and the incentive all at the same time,” she said in the 1983 interview.While living in the Boston area she was able to practice and perform on the period instruments in the collection of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. In 1964 she relocated to New York, in part to play with Pro Musica.Ms. Davidoff in an undated photo. She sought to dispel the mystery behind instruments from before the Classical era in programs that were often educational.via Max RosenThe curiosity that first led Ms. Davidoff to early music stayed with her for her entire career. In 1971, for example, when she was already established as an early-music performer, she took a course in how to dance the court dances of the Baroque era. Learning the steps gave her new insights into how the accompanying music should be performed.“This course has revolutionized the feeling of the whole music of this period for me,” she told The New York Times.She was also always on the lookout for new discoveries.“She toured all over the world looking for instruments to play,” Ms. Terry, a past president of the Viola da Gamba Society of America, said. In addition to teaching at Sarah Lawrence College and other institutions, Ms. Davidoff served residencies in Turkey, where she learned a stringed instrument called the kemence, and Taiwan, where she learned the erhu.Though the instruments she played may have been from earlier eras, she believed new works could and should still be created for them.“One powerful impact Judith had was her fierce devotion to getting living composers to write for the viola da gamba,” Ms. Terry said. In her late 60s, Ms. Davidoff earned a Ph.D. at the Union Institute (now the Union Institute & University), based in Cincinnati. Her dissertation, “The Waning and Waxing of the Viol,” included both an in-depth history of the instrument and a catalog of music written for it in the 20th century.Ms. Davidoff’s husband, a political economist noted for his work on social issues, died in 2005. In addition to her children, she is survived by a sister, Edith Muskat; two grandchildren; and a great-grandson.Ms. Davidoff knew that some people might need a little help learning to appreciate the music she liked to perform.“The process of courting the audience is a tricky one,” she wrote in her dissertation. “Listeners, except for the ardent early-music groupies, often feel insecure about their lack of preparation, and the right tone must be found — the mystery of the unknown must be broken without doing the music an injustice or patronizing the patron.” More

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      ‘Rigoletto’ at the Met Unites a Father and Daughter. Again.

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      Quinn Kelsey and Rosa Feola have earned raves playing a jester and his child in a new production of Verdi’s opera.Quinn Kelsey and Rosa Feola are used to playing father and daughter.It started in 2013, when Kelsey jumped into the title role of the cursed jester in Verdi’s opera “Rigoletto” in Zurich; Feola was in that production, too, as Gilda, the daughter Rigoletto has kept secret. Since then, they’ve sung those characters together, Feola recalled in a recent video call, “five, six, maybe seven times.”Now they are doing the parts in Bartlett Sher’s new staging of “Rigoletto” at the Metropolitan Opera, which opened on New Year’s Eve and moves the action to Weimar Germany. It’s a breakthrough for both singers. Feola, a soprano who made her Met debut in a revival of the old production in 2019, is returning to eager anticipation and the spotlight of a premiere. And Kelsey, a Met fixture in baritone parts for over a decade, is finally getting a true starring role — onstage and on Lincoln Center billboards.“Kelsey has always been an arresting artist,” Anthony Tommasini wrote in a review for The New York Times. “But this role shows off his full vocal and dramatic depth.”Tommasini added that Feola followed up her impressive 2019 debut with a performance in which “coloratura runs and trills emerged as integral extensions of the long-spun vocal lines. She captured Gilda’s innocence, but also the sensual stirrings and secret defiance that drive this over-protected young woman’s disastrous decisions.”Lisette Oropesa was originally cast as the production’s Gilda, said Peter Gelb, the Met’s general manager. But when she asked to be released to take on a new role elsewhere, she suggested he hire Feola, who at the time hadn’t yet sung there. Then came her debut.“There are some singers you hear, and you know immediately that they are a major talent,” Gelb said. “We knew that with her.”In future seasons, she will broaden her Met repertory: Gelb hinted at “Le Nozze di Figaro,” “La Traviata” and a new production of Giordano’s “Fedora.”Daniele Rustioni, the “Rigoletto” conductor, has done at least 10 operas with Feola, and said that over the years he has seen her develop to give Gilda “360 degrees.”“She gives the tenderness, the desperation, the courage,” he added. “She’s not the poor Bambi in the forest.”Rustioni was pleasantly surprised by Kelsey, with whom he hadn’t worked before, calling him a great Rigoletto of our time who is “destined for great things.” He is, Gelb added, “one of our first choices when we think of Verdi baritones,” and his coming Met appearances include “Un Ballo in Maschera,” “Aida” and “Macbeth.”“He’s a Rigoletto of enormous cruelty and empathy,” Gelb said. “I think that Bart was really encouraging him to go for things in ways he hadn’t before. And he’s got all the qualities as a performer to deliver it.”Kelsey has been forced to miss at least three performances after testing positive for the coronavirus this week, but is expected to be back onstage on Jan. 15. (Michael Chioldi is singing in his place.) Kelsey and Feola, at their respective homes in New York for the run, spoke in the call about their work together and the new production. Here are edited excerpts from the conversation.How have you grown in these roles together over the years?QUINN KELSEY The more these two characters can be comfortable with each other, the easier it is for the two of them to pull off this relationship. “You’re my daughter” and “You’re my father” — that’s easy to say, but it’s important to find the connection and build it right away. For us, it’s become easier and allowed us to explore new facets of our relationship.ROSA FEOLA In the first duet, when I say “Mio padre!” and he says “Figlia!” we just look at each other, and it’s enough. Because in our eyes we’ve already said everything. And at the end, when she dies, she says, “Mio padre, addio!” It’s a kind of “I love you so much, and there’s nothing more to say.” We have many things to say, even if we are not singing or speaking. That, for me, makes it very special.Has this production changed your understanding of the characters?KELSEY The more you perform the role, the more you can’t help but pay attention to what you’re saying, to the things that your colleagues bring to the production, that you weren’t always aware of. For me, it’s just been the idea of being more specific. You have to transition from evil to uneasy to scared to loving tenderness, all within the first 30 minutes, and this production has been about making specific decisions about when it all happens. Gilda is also older than normally portrayed, enough that she has a specific drive and vision.FEOLA She wants to be older. In the second act there is a new scene that Bart puts in: When she’s undressed in the duke’s room, she doesn’t feel something bad. She understands that to be the partner of that guy, she needs to accept it. Gilda is a strong woman. So at the end of the story, she decides the moment to put the knife in the hand of Sparafucile and make him kill her.KELSEY Bart gave us so much opportunity to really expand the structure of these two characters. Instead of Rigoletto being a bad guy and paying for it later, and Gilda being a delicate flower, we have been allowed to take it a few steps further.And with these dramatic challenges, if you don’t have the music underneath you as a perfect cushion, it’s so much harder to pull off. So the amount of detail extends to the orchestra and chorus behaving around us as part of a larger entity, which strengthens our ability to tell the story — more than I feel I ever have been able to.What does this production mean at this stage in your careers?FEOLA My debut at the Met with “Rigoletto” was already a big deal for me, as an Italian singer singing Verdi, one of the most beautiful operas of Verdi. And also this character, which I have sung since 2009 and studied with Renata Scotto. So I feel very comfortable with the timing, and making a new production at the Met of course means a lot.KELSEY I’m proud of the fact that I’ve has as much experience in this role as I have. I covered Rigoletto for the first time 15 years ago; I knew back then that I could sing it, but woof, that was work. It was a really sensitive thing, because Verdi baritones aren’t normally pursuing this role as early as I did, and if it hadn’t worked out I definitely would have put it away.But I’ve always had success, and it’s grown in me. So the fact that I’m in my early 40s and can come to the Met with the amount of experience that I’ve built up, to bring all of my tools and apply it to a new production — it’s like a perfect culture for a seedling. It’s the opportunity for something to germinate and grow as well as it ever could. I’m so pleased, and I know it will just get better. More