Poulenc: Carole Farley, (soprano), John Constable, (piano). Painters Hall, London 27.6.2007 (AO)



Wedged between Aldeburgh and the Proms, the City of London Festival may not get the attention it deserves, but it’s very packed with interesting events, concerts and activities.  A few years ago, they brought Stockhausen himself for a concert at the very top of the Gherkin, with its unsurpassed panorama over the city.  The Festival, which runs from 22 June to 12 July, features musicians as renowned as Willard White, Heinrich Schiff, Accentus, the renowned chamber choir with their charismatic conductor, Laurence Equilbey, Yan Pascal Tortelier (conducting Berlioz’s Requiem), Steven Osborne, François Le Roux, and many other well-known names. The venues they use are part of the pleasure.  This concert was held in the Painter’s Hall, where a copy of the guild’s charter can be seen, complete with red seal and the date 1466.

This year’s Festival has a French theme, so one of the keynote concerts was a performance of Poulenc’s masterpiece, La Voix Humaine, by Carole Farley, for whom it is something of a trademark.

She’s performed it many times, and her film of it (review) is a powerful piece of theatre, like a compelling film noir. It’s a very perceptive interpretation for what is happening is murder, carried out impersonally through the telephone, a weapon that leaves no trace, as the singer tells us.

As a device, Poulenc’s uses of a telephone narrative makes the piece even more difficult to perform, as the singer is cruelly exposed.  In this recital, Farley is accompanied only by piano, not orchestra, so she’s even more alone.  The piano part, moreover, supports action such as the ringing of the telephone, rather than supporting the voice part.  No wonder Poulenc relished the challenge of performing it himself, with Denise Duval.  And what demands it makes of the singer! Not only does she have to convey the character of the woman through this minimalist narrative, but she also has to convincingly convey the personality of her lover and the nature of their relationship so the “story” expands beyond brief snatches of one-sided conversation.

The subject’s personality isn’t nice, which puts even more pressure on the singer to make us sympathise.  The woman lives in a haze of delusion, constantly staving off reality and inventing excuses, for her lover as much as for herself.  Yet, she’s also intelligent, picking up on every emotional clue the lover gives, grabbing at any means of salvaging the situation.  And she really does love the cad.  As she collapses, Farley sings her last words, Je t’aime, Je t’aime with such convincing depth that she captures a wide range of conflicting emotions.  The woman might be on the verge of suicide, but the one thing she can’t pretend is that she doesn’t love.  It is a tribute to Farley’s consummate skill that she manages to express this underlying warmth in the woman.  This was a very well-observed, psychologically perceptive portrait of the woman who has been hurt so long that she’s learned to defend herself by manipulation and illusion, even though it’s the very thing that destroys her ability to maintain relationships.

This really is a tour de force, and it’s not surprising why relatively few  sopranos expose themselves to its unforgiving demands.  But Farley’s insights into character are so acutely penetrating, that her interpretation seems to evolve organically out of sheer instinct.  Experience in opera has taught her the musical equivalent of method acting : every detail, from a whispered word, to an arched eyebrow, builds into a whole.  She has the secret of expressing infinitely more than text alone.  This protagonist became a real person, which made the impact of the piece extremely moving.  I was most impressed by this performance, and very, very glad that I went. 

Anne Ozorio