This book presents the story
so far about Antonio Pappano, the man and
his career.
Lucrèce Maeckelbergh,
has followed Pappano’s career over many years:
throughout his highly successful tenure at
Die Munt in Brussels and at Covent Garden,
in addition to his symphonic conductor and
pianist guises. That the book may have started
as a series of radio interviews between artist
and author in Brussels is undeniable, but
the breadth and depth of the final publication
give a rounder picture than any series of
interviews could convey. Pappano’s involvement
was, Maeckelbergh says, "warm hearted,
[…] yet critical", as well it might have
been on the part of any artist who is serious
about how their art is understood.
The book is cast in five
subdivided sections. Part one examines Pappano’s
life and the role of music within it. It begins
with what I imagine was a monologue delivered
by the man himself. The monologue moves at
break-neck speed through his early life, key
influences, career highlights and select professional
partnerships. If, when reading it, one wishes
the pace might relent so even the slightest
elaboration could be made, it has to be acknowledged
that much of Pappano’s own energy and enthusiasm
is felt. Thus, in one sentence, when discussing
early repertoire, Massenet sits alongside
Carlisle Floyd, Bernstein and Sondheim. The
reader is then taken through Pappano’s London
childhood haunts in the company of director,
friend and longstanding collaborator Keith
Warner.
The biographical sketch continues
with the family move from London to Bridgeport,
Connecticut, where his skills as an accompanist
were in much demand. Eventually, in the States
opportunities arose at the New York City Opera,
but the influence of his late father, Pasquale,
himself a notable tenor, runs like a leitmotif
through Pappano’s early development and even
today his understanding of voices. Europe
beckoned though through experience at Bayreuth
and successive posts in Barcelona (repetiteur
at the Liceo) music director of the Oslo opera
and La monnaie in Brussels.
The culmination, in many
senses of Pappano’s musical apprenticeship
is best told across the end of Part I by Daniel
Barenboim: all credit to him for suggesting
Pappano maintain his piano playing and interest
in chamber music. In Part II others who have
worked closely with Pappano over a number
of years contribute: Peter Wiggins, his manager;
Bernard Foccroulle, intendant of La monnaie;
Sir Colin Southgate, Royal Opera House Covent
Garden; and Willy Decker, director. Amiability,
is the main characteristic that comes across,
as is obvious professional respect. However,
if only some note of criticism, or even mild
questioning on occasion, was present too.
If the tone verges on the reverential, Pappano’s
own contributions counter this and hint at
his own ambition in the field of symphonic
repertoire with his Rome-based Santa Cecilia
orchestra. Along the way we get a clear picture
also of Pappano’s love affair with the recording
studio.
Pappano’s real love though,
we learn, is with the theatre, and it was
through working with Inga Nielsen and Robert
Hale that he became a conductor. Rarely, probably,
have singers encouraged a young repetiteur
to conduct, but they obviously identified
something in his musical sensibilities that
made him right for the opera pit. Again, energy
and ruthlessness are qualities that come out,
but never – we are told – at the expense of
music or drama. Musicians that play under
Pappano try to unravel the mystery of what
makes a great conductor, yet in my estimation
I feel that no one will ever be able to do
this. But they do succeed in saying what makes
Pappano an interesting ringmaster for their
professional lives.
I suspect, however, that
the compliments Pappano might set most store
by are those in Part IV: from singers. From
José van Dam, who reigned as La Monnaie’s
baritone in chief during Pappano’s tenure,
to Domingo, via Thomas Hampson, Dale Duesing,
Roberto Alagna, Barbara Bonney and Susan Chilcott.
All attest that he is a singer’s conductor
or pianist. As a listener, however, I find
it hard to agree with the universal praise
his conducting of Wagner in particular receives,
but then such things are largely a question
of taste.
The final part turns the
direction of the volume around as Pappano
imparts to Maeckelbergh his thoughts on some
of his favourite operas: Ariadne auf Naxos,
Wozzeck, Falstaff, Don Giovanni, La Boheme,
Lohengrin and Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk among
them. Interweaved amongst Pappano’s thoughts
are those of many of his leading singers for
particular productions. Susan Chilcott remains
a singer he misses greatly, and her inclusion
is touching.
The CD inserted in the back
cover has a generous playing time of 77 minutes
and provides a fairly rounded musical portrait
to accompany Maeckelbergh’s book. Its 21 tracks
offer samples from his EMI studio recordings
of Massenet’s Werther and Manon, Puccini’s
La rondine, La Boheme, Tosca, Suor Angelica
and Messa di Gloria, Verdi’s Don Carlos and
Il trovatore, Wagner’s Tristan, Boesmans’
Wintermärchen and Wolf’s Ganymed with
Bostridge.
The volume is generously
illustrated, allowing it to grace the coffee
tables of any Covent Garden habitué
with ease. That the prose style is laid back
and concisely constructed by Maeckelbergh
makes it a most untaxing read which can easily
be dipped into at will. Overall, the book
can be recommended as a solid introduction
to a conductor who ultimately engages and
sustains one’s interest by the strength of
his personality.
Evan Dickerson
Lucrèce Maeckelbergh
