Goran Jurić: All about that bass

Goran Juric in the COC production of The Abduction from the Seraglio, 2018. Photo credit Gary Beechey.

Bass Goran Jurić (Osmin in the COC’s The Abduction from the Seraglio until February 24) is finishing his six year stint as the ensemble member at the Bavarian Opera and heading to Stuttgart next season. We met at the COC offices for a chat.

Tell me about your trajectory, Munich-based Croatian bass Goran Jurić.

I graduated from the University of Zagreb – I did opera studies there, and also Italian studies and general phonetics. My first operatic experiences were at the Croatian National Theatre in Zagreb, where I sang Sarastro, among others…

When did you discover you’re a bass?

My low notes were immediately evident. When I was sixteen, seventeen, I developed my top notes in the course of my studies, but my base was clear early on.

And you knew immediately you wanted to sing – no instrument tempted you?

Music education at all levels is funded by the state in Croatia, and classical musician gets to go to a music-focused high school first and then on to university – what we call the Music Academy. So I went to music high school, where my primary subject was singing, but I had a minor too, the flute. I played the flute for a few years.

Completely different sound from the bass voice?

Yes, but there’s overlap – breathing technique has some similarities, it’s interesting. Then at university, I added Italian and phonetics to my studies. I’m really interested in linguistics, and Italian language and literature, even though I’ve always known I’d never work in the field of language. By the time I was 20, I knew I wanted to be an opera singer.

Do you come from a musical family?

Not at all. I come from a working class family, my dad is an electrician, my mom was a clerk. I don’t come from a family where you take private lessons in French or piano… I had “private lessons” in how to chop wood and stuff like that. If I was to become a musician at all, it was likelier I’d become a folk musician, because I grew up in a village. But somehow, through my education, primary school and high school, in my music classes, I discovered all these composers—and plus the TV probably helped and the occasional concert—and realized I have this great love of classical music. I started to sing in choirs, and my voice was being noticed etc. It’s thanks to our education system that I discovered I could be an opera singer. As it’s usually the case with children who come from rural backgrounds: what you don’t find at home, you’ll find thanks to a good public education system. One of the good things about the old Yugoslav socialist system was the free public schools with music education at every level.

And after the university?

After Croatia, I went to (what we call in our respective countries) “Europe” for singing competitions and I won a few. And that’s how I found my manager. The agency was then called Caecilia, out of Zurich, but now its former lyric section is its own agency, the Amman-Horak Agency for Opera Artists, and it’s remained Swiss. One of the first auditions that they sent me to was the Munich opera house. I had no idea what if anything I’ll get out of it. A chorus position, an opera studio job, an ensemble contract, a one-off role, nothing at all? I just wanted to work. I knew I wanted to move out from Croatia to a bigger operatic centre. And they offered me immediately to come on as an ensemble member. That was my big break. Munich is, well, probably the best opera house in Germany.

I hear Munich loves its opera.

Not only do they have a full season, but a summer festival too, and there’s a different opera on every day, and every day it’s packed. Ticket prices can hit substantial three digit numbers, due to demand. And Munich is the centre of southern Germany, with a really strong economy. BMW is there, Siemens, Bayers. It’s a wealthy city and its budget for culture is equally big, and Munich audiences love opera. There are two operatic theatres in town in addition to the Bayerische and they’re also doing well.

You’ll be in Munich a while longer?

I actually just finished my fest contract there. Learned a lot, sang a lot of roles, and they were careful of Fach. I was never forced to try anything that wasn’t good for my voice; and how they saw me matched exactly how I understood my own voice. They saw me more in Italian, with a little bit of German and Russian rep, and I appreciated that. I sang Banquo in Macbeth, Timur in Turandot, Colline in La Boheme, Ferrando in Trovatore, Raimondo in Lucia, Oroveso in Norma… Rarely baroque, but I did Plutone in L’Orfeo, and we did Rameau’s Les Indes galantes, where I did…

Wait, Rameau has bass roles?

Not only that, it was a female role, written for a bass, and the character is goddess of war by the name of Bellona.

Now I have to get that DVD.

It’s available! I rarely sing baroque these days, though I used to sing some baroque oratorio rep. After six years in Munich, next season I am starting an artist in residence contract at the Stuttgart Opera. It’s similar to being an ensemble member, but you sing much less and have much more available time to guest in other opera houses.

Where do you see your voice going in the next, say, five years?

I will try to keep my voice where it is now. This is my first Osmin at the COC, and I’m enjoying it a lot. I’m not a typical Mozart singer, I don’t do Figaro, Leporello, Don Giovanni. The three Mozart roles I’ve done are Il Commendatore, Sarastro and this one. And I did a Sarastro at the COC last year, and am glad to do Osmin in a house that I know well.

What are your composers now?

So, when it comes to bel canto. I’m not a Rossini singer, but I did sing Moses in Rossini’s Moses in Egypt in Bregenz this summer. I’m returning to Moses right after the Abduction, I’ll sing it in Naples. Raimondo in Lucia, Oroveso in Norma. That’s for bel canto. Then, Verdi. I would still wait for Filippo, but the Inquisitor I would do now. It’s quite short, it’s a big and important scene, but not as demanding as Filippo. For Filippo, you have to have the vocal maturity and also be mature as a person. Otherwise it’s just… not complete. In Don Carlo, I did already the Monk, and my next rank in that church would be the Inquisitor. Other Verdi, I do Sparafucile, Banquo, Ferrando, and happy with how that’s going. I’d like to do Ramphis as well. But I’ll wait out Filippo, Zaccharia, Attila. There’s still time.

What about the Russians?

I adore Russian composers. Last season here at the COC I did an all-Russian recital, with songs by Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninov and Sviridov. I would still wait for Boris a while. I will first do Pimen, which I will sing in Stuttgart in the near future. Pimen has some beautiful monologues. I would like to do King Rene in Tchaikovsky’s Iolanta. And Susanin in Glinka’s A Life for the Tsar. But for now—I’m 34, and that’s still young for a bass—I’d like to keep my voice between Mozart, bel canto and Verdi. I’ve been saying no to offers from the heavier rep. I’m often offered Wagner and most of those I decline. I will take Heinrich from Lohengrin – it’s written in an oratorio manner, the orchestra is not too thick, I don’t have to sing too dramatically. Let’s say King Mark from Tristan would be like like Filippo from Don Carlo for me; something I will wait for. That’s the role that I’d really like to do in the future. People tell me they can see me as Gurnemanz. I’ve sung Titurel, and there you can hear if someone would be good as Gurnemanz or not. But – there’s time.

I wanted to ask you about the Slavs in opera. I’ve read an interview with the Bulgarian singer Vesselina Kasarova in which, well, she put it like this: she encountered racism in the opera world around Slavic voices. Who are booming, unsophisticated, the “Russian School” etc. Does this sound familiar?

Yes! I’ve heard that before. There’s even some truth in what’s otherwise a crass stereotype. But this is how. What we think when we say “Slavs in opera”, it’s the Russian school of singing and the Bulgarian school of singing. Sometimes we add to that the ex-Yugoslav singers. Our languages probably affect our singing cultures. Our Slavic languages are kind of more guttural, throaty… and our folk music is written in a more virtuosic way than the folk music from the west. One of my Profs in Zagreb once told me that the nations that have long and complex tradition of folk music don’t have long and complex traditions of classical music, and vice versa. Perhaps the Slavic singing does come with and require bigger voices and differently coloured voices due to our folk traditions and religious singing, especially the Orthodox influence?

And maybe it’s our way of speaking as well. Perhaps the difference between the European east and the European west is like the difference between south America and north America. There’s a different kind of… expressivity.

Russian operas are full of basses. More of them there than anywhere else.

That’s probably due to their sacred music. Bass is a major voice in Russian Orthodox music. Different from Italian operas, where tenor tends to be the leading voice.

And women’s voices have not exactly been dominating Orthodox chants and liturgies; it’s the male voices, and low ones, in choirs that are the more familiar colour.

Yes, though they also have some really awesome nuns’ choirs. I wish there was an extensive study on this, I’d love to read it. On these differences.

When you listen to a western European choir do Rachmaninov Vespers, like the French choir Accentus, for example, which recorded the Vespers with Eric Ericson Chamber Choir, it’s a very different piece. Gossamer light in comparison to some Russian recordings.

I can believe it.

And then the Balkans are similar but also apart. I grew up in Croatia and Croatia is at a crossroads between the Mediterranean, Central European and Balkan cultures. That’s why the Croatian singers are part of the so-called “Slavic school” but we also have the Mediterranean touch and the Germanic touch via Austria. Croatia, Montenegro too, at a crossroads between larger countries and the empires that occupied us. But we made use of these cultural influences.

Croatia, within and without Yugoslavia, gave quite a few opera singers to the world. Was Sena Jurinac Croatian?

Yes. Also Dunja Vejzović. And Ruža Pospiš-Baldani.

I remember reading about Dunja in my adolescence, in Svijet magazine. Fast forward to much later, I last watched her in a DVD of Il trittico a few years back.

She is now in her 70s and she’s training as a conductor. She went back to school and she’s going to add that to her degrees.

Then there’s Renata Pokupić.

That’s right, she’s a baroque and Rossini singer. And let’s not forget Vlatka Oršanić. She’s my voice teacher and she’s sung in all of Europe really and now teaches at the opera studies department in Zagreb. And if we broaden our search to the entire ex-Yu territory, there’s of course Željko Lučić (b. in Serbia), really one of the best Verdi baritones around.

And Marijana Mijanović, also from Serbia, but she kind of retired.

Oh yes, Marijana! A real baroque contralto. I’ve never met her, but I remember when I was a student watching clips of her on Youtube, she is incredible.

And her former partner, Krešimir Špicer, who is often in Toronto thanks to Opera Atelier.

Krešimir is from Slavonski Brod, in Croatia. Actually, my very first opera, when I was in my second year at university, was Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo, and Krešimir was Orfeo in it.

There’s a lot of Slavs in German and Austrian opera. There’s the gruff Croatian count in Arabella and who knows, maybe you’ll end up singing the role eventually… or is it too high for a bass?

I’m not touching Strauss yet! In due course, I’ll take a peek.

But Haydn, too, was inspired by folk songs from Croatia. There were times when the Balkans were inspiring to the west European musicians. Nowadays, the word balkanization is a pejorative… And the stereotyping of Slav singers, yes, it’s a thing.

But this stereotyping maybe works in Slav basses’ favour?

Well let’s be honest, a huge chunk of basses come from Slavic countries. Come on. I’ve met Croatian basses, and Russian ones, Belorussian, Ukrainian, Bulgarian especially. It is something that’s ours. Provided that this we exists in the first place, of course.

OMG that’s right. Of course it doesn’t.

A friend from Croatia recently asked me: so when you’re away and you miss home, what do you miss: Croatia as Croatia, or Karlovac, your hometown, or Zagreb where you studied, or Munich where you live? My answer is, I never feel complete. From every city I live in or work in, I get something. But I leave a bit of myself there as well.

Goran Jurić continues as Osmin at the COC.

Goran Jurić as Osmin and Owen McCausland as Pedrillo in the Abduction from the Seraglio. Photo: Michael Cooper

New podcast episode out

January Alto is out.

First guest is Victorine de Oliveira, contributing writer @ Philosophie Magazine in France, who talks about her opera and classical highlights this season, books she’s been reading and also the French opposition to the MeToo. (Recorded on Skype, please forgive the extraneous sounds) People mentioned: Lea Desandre, Claus Guth, Kaija Saariaho, Terry Gillian, Paris opera loggionisti, Sarah Bakewell, a historian of the May ’68 Ludivine Bantigny, sociologist Eva Illouz, Virginie Despentes, Catherine Millet & the signatories of the PasMois letter.

Song: Emoke Baráth with Emese Virág on piano, Debussy’s “Nuit d’etoiles” (Hungaroton label, May 2017)

Followed by the conversation with opera director Christoper Alden on directing Rigoletto at the COC, the figure of the “Fallen Woman” in Verdi, working on a Peter Pan play via Leonard Bernstein and Nina Simone, whether his (rent-controlled) apartment in NYC is more Zeffirelli or minimalism, what his worry would be if the Met ever came calling, and what is opera to do in the age of Trump and the internet domination of culture.

Haus Musik: Crossing / Traversée

Patricia Ahern (violin) with Charlotte Nediger (harpsichord) in HausMusik, November 2017. Photo: Haus Musik Twitter account.

I finally got the chance to see one of Tafelmusik’s “alternative” concerts, the November edition of the series known as Haus Musik. It took place at the Great Hall’s Long Boat venue, on Queen and Dovercourt. This is a series of non-traditional chamber-size concerts by Tafelmusicians in venues like night clubs, preceded and followed by a DJ set.

I somehow thought that the concert would be a conversation between electronic and baroque music, but the two stayed safely apart and what we had was a traditional concert (if shorter) alongside a kind of a staging with a dancer, video and, um, curated smell: envelopes with dried lavender were handed to each of the audience member, which connected to some of the shots of lavender fields that we saw in video projections. The DJ Andycapp DJ’d before and probably after (I didn’t hang out for long).

There were no chairs about, hey this is an alternative concert in a club, but people clearly needed them because 20 minutes into the concert much of the audience on the ground level sat on the floor. I don’t think anything will be lost by adding some chairs to the Haus Musik formula? There are no chairs in clubs because people dance in clubs, but there was no opportunity for the audience to dance to baroque here. So: which it is going to be, the chairs or the dancing? that is the question. No chairs and no dancing is the worst combination possible.

The pieces heard were short and well varied – a concert for two violins (Patricia Ahern and Genevieve Gilardeau), a solo piece for the harpsichord (Charlotte Nediger) and another for viola da gamba (Felix Deak), and some pieces that asked for all four musicians. Beside Couperin, Rameau and Marais, two composers who are new to me were played: Jean-Marie Leclair and Louis Constatin.

I feel it would be bitchy and beside the point to “review” this performance and to comment on whether the ensemble sounded under-rehearsed etc. Too, the staging-mit-choreography by Jennifer Nichols wasn’t quite… there. The story unfolding while the music is playing was of two couples, one from the time when the music was composed, one contemporary — and they could be one and the same couple. The contemporary couple has split and we only see the man of the pair (dancer Jack Rennie), struggling with memories or dreams or visions (projected on video; Patrick Hagarty is credited as the filmmaker). There is great potential in this idea of the present, the past and the future disturbing each other’s domains and melding before our eyes, but the thing never really got off the ground. A pre-recorded male voice read a poem in French by “J. Nichols” (Jennifer?) in between the segments, which did not add much to the piece. The props making up the man’s atelier were the familiar scruffy Toronto indie opera no-budget props.

The audience, though, was MUCH younger than one sees in regular Tafelmusik concerts, and the drinks were being carried all around this licensed venue. However, unless tweaked (dancing or chairs?), this kind of a do is not exactly my thing. Especially now that that I live in east end. Dovercourt-Queen is now far west for this autumn cyclist.

Next Haus Musik is scheduled for February 2018.

News flash

News flash

Aida by Py— Bloor Cinema is starting to screen opera. The Met in HD is no longer the only game in town. The independent cinema house, owned by the Hot Docs International Documentary Film Festival, will be showing the Paris Opera’s recent Aida (directed by Olivier Py, Philippe Jordan conducting) on Saturday January 18th at 1:30PM. For the very affordable tickets and more info go here. The new Paris production saw a great deal of controversy, and was one of the few which got boos even during the dress rehearsal. (Which prompted France Musique to dig out this video of a similar occasion, when Gérard Mortier had to interrupt a dress rehearsal for Warlikowski’s Parsifal and ask the booers to be civilized or leave.) No fundamentalist is more rabid than the Aida fundamentalist, and the Parisian ones were out in full force for the duration of the run. To say that it’ll be an intriguing production would be an understatement. I was eager to go, but realized I had tickets for the Cosi fan tutte at the COC later that day, and two operas back-t0-back would not be something my ripe old age could handle. I hope some of you see it and tell me all about it.

I asked Robin Smith, the Cinema Programmer at the Bloor Hot Docs Cinema, if this was a one-off or if they plan to continue to screen operas. “Yes, we do have plans to do Operas regularly at the Bloor Hot Docs Cinema. Currently we are trying to feature at least 1 new opera to present our audience each month,” was his reply. He was able to share that we would see productions from both the ROH and the Paris Opera, but promised to have more specifics for me by mid-next week. Stay tuned.

–A new and intriguing transladaptation. Several departments of York University are collaborating on this updated version of John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera, to be directed by Gwen Dobie and conducted by Stephanie Martin.  Blurb: “In a Toronto prison in 2014, inmates crack open this satirical tale of corruption, social inequality — and a very messy love triangle.” Runs January 29-Feb 1, with the Jan 28 preview. More on the idea, and how to get the tickets here.

–Mezzo Stephanie Blythe is giving two voice Master Classes at UoT (Jan 21 and 23) and will perform “An Evening of English Songs” with pianist Steven Philcox and student artists (Jan 24). All of this is free, and takes place at UoT’s Walter Hall. More info here. Soprano Tracy Dahl is also giving a Master Class, baritone Thomas Allen is giving a talk, and British composer Gabriel Prokofiev is doing various things during his residence at UoT (look here for a handy calendar of UoT events this month).

–Hippolyte et Aricie in concert on February 2, something I can’t miss. The always outstanding Alyson McHardy will be Phedre, Kevin Mallon will conduct his period band the Aradia Ensemble, and the other credits look very appealing too.

Photo: The Paris Opera Aida, 2013

Pierre Audi’s Castor et Pollux (2009)

Castor_PolluxI’ve only managed to see this DVD now (the likely final straw – two opera bloggers, JohnG and Capriccio, recently reviewed it and reminded me of it). I avoided it due to its almost-monochromatism and the austere geometric set. How I was wrong.

This production and this work offer so much food for thought. The director Pierre Audi placed the mythical piece (fittingly) in the a-temporal setting. The hair, as the designer explains in the bonus documentary, was inspired by the representation of divinities that we can observe on the Ancient Greek pottery, but both hair and the costumes will to the present-day viewer look a touch Sci-Fi. And that is just fine: the Sci-Fi for us today is a sphere of myth and foundational stories and first questions. Do Star Trek and Star Wars and Alien and Blade Runner signify for us today the way Greek mythology signified in Rameau’s time? A question worth examining, and this C&P does it, though sideways, through the design.

More importantly, the Audi C&P blasts open for everybody to see what the work is ultimately about: becoming a human alas also means you have to shoe-horn yourself into one gender and with it, into romantic love, whatever the hegemonic models of it are in your epoch.

Although the tale begins as a familiar love triangle, only doubled (Télaïre and Phébée love Castor; Castor and Pollux both love Télaïre), it ends with two brothers choosing Hades over a happily-ever-after with Télaïre in this world. Big chunk of the latter part is a debate between the brothers over who gets to go back to being human, and why that’s not such a good idea.  They get awarded by Jupiter for their willingness to sacrifice by becoming part of the cosmos, the constellation Gemini.

But wait. Although on the one hand this is a work about transcending the human condition (yey), it is also about the homosocial world of male divinities who disregard the (irrevocably human) women, whose purpose of life they happily become. There is no happy ending, there is no reconciliation in the order of things. (Though maybe that was the Konzept for productions of Rameau’s time? I wish they had DVDs then.) The two women are repudiated, Télaïre kindly, Phébée brutally. To say no to the sexual difference is to say no to the other sex–to not accept the possibility of its incidence, perhaps.

Dancers are used brilliantly. I’ve seen several Rameau productions with choreographies that have nothing whatsoever to do with the goings-on on stage. Here, the dancers enact mini-dramas which reveal the psyche of the otherwise enigmatic characters. We observe their conflicted thought processes and drives out in the open. A truly ingenious solution.

As is the manipulation of the sets on the many passages between this world and the other one. (Some of the moving walls will again remind of the silent automatic doors in the many Sci-Fi creations; the designer claims it has to do with stage directing techniques of the Baroque era).

YT is a good place to sample this production — see it here.

For a very different take (and Happy New Year!) —