Vienna: Fairy Tale Evening: 13 May 2019

Today, Monday, we woke up, dressed and went down to breakfast. I had a petite omelette customized with mushrooms, gruyere cheese and sprinkled with freshly snipped fragrant chives. A few tables away was a familiar face. Our concert tonight featured Cecilia Bartoli. And there she was with her husband and her mamma. She travels with her mamma.  Which I think is achingly sweet. There is a video, on YouTube, in which Renata Tebaldi describes her life. She never married. Never had children. Because her voice was her life. She felt an obligation to serve her voice to the exclusion of more traditional desires. And she travelled the world with her mamma. Mamma Giuseppina was her name. In the interview she tells of a time in New York City at the Metropolitan Opera. Her mamma became ill, seriously ill. Renata was distraught. She did not want to perform. She said later, when "mamma died, I did not ever want to sing again."  When I saw Cecilia Bartoli with her mamma, I thought it sweet and special beyond words.

We knew Bartoli was in our hotel. Our dear friend in her orchestra had told us. He encouraged us to speak with her. So I did.

I simply wanted to pay humble respects to one who excels in her field. She was kind, receptive, warm and both she and mamma extended their hand for a gentle shake. She told me she was pleased with the programming: all Vivaldi. Songs interspersed with movements from the Four Seasons violin concertos.  She hoped we would like it.

The concert is now over. It was in the golden grand hall of the Musikverein. We sat on the stage behind the four violas; close enough to take a few steps and turn their pages, which we did not do. The concert was entirely sold out which meant 1,700 people seated and another 300 people standing. Sitting on the stage is not ideal for a perfect blend of sound, but it is an outstanding visceral experience. We were in the center of the action. It was thrilling.  The concert ran two hours and forty-five minutes with one intermission. Each half played as a continuous stream of movements. Every piece segued into the next.

Cecilia Bartoli is a charming stage presence. She sings directly to the audience. She looks at them. At times she walked the aisles singing to them. From the stage, we looked directly, fifty feet away into the eyes of her mamma in the twelfth row. I got the sense she loves to sing for her mamma. Before too long, it seemed the audience's pleasure evolved into affection. By the end, it was a love fest. And Bartoli was ready to reward us. She had encores, lots of encores. One encore involved a primitive trumpet. He played some wild flourish. Then she matched it. The one upmanship went on and evolved into Gershwin's Summertime, then somehow got back to Vivaldi.

The encores occupied thirty minutes. At the end, we found our friend from the orchestra. We followed him through corridors and up stairs to a reception hosted by the Monaco Consulate. The room was smallish. Filled with the twenty five musicians, a handful of diplomats and administrators and us, the party crashers. Wes sipped wine while the Ambassador to Monaco complimented him on his exceptional performance. He accepted her compliments. After a while, several glasses of champagne, mini-apple-strudels, and chocolates in the shape of the crown of the Prince of Monaco, Cecilia Bartoli entered. Applause. She was brought to the front of the room. She saw me, her eyes widened, she smiled, and asked me if I liked the programming she described at breakfast. I thought, gosh, she has a good memory. She just sang a two and a half hour program for two thousand people and she remembers me from breakfast? Perhaps that is what makes her special. Apart from the exceptional talent and accomplishment, she has a gift to connect with people.

Before we left, I introduced myself to the viola players. I was afraid I would be shy and clam up. They were warm, open, friendly and I was grateful to get acquainted. It was an international group of musicians. One was from Amsterdam, another from Helsinki, and Italy and France and Switzerland. I watched them switch languages effortlessly from English to Italian to French to German. At the end of the reception, I said to Lorenzo, "you take us nice places." And at the end of the evening, back in our elegant Imperial Hotel suite, I said to Wesley, "you take me nice places." What an understatement.

Marlow and Wes
Vienna: 13 Monday 2019
Cecilia Bartoli Concer