Date / Place I
06 February 2022 Gare du Nord, BaselDate / Place II
07 February 2022 Gare du Nord, BaselSeries
PhoenixTitle
MelodramProgram
Michael Jarrell (*1958) “Kassandra” melodrame for female speaker, instrumental ensemble and electronics (1994) – 54’Musicians
- Verena Buss
- speaker
- Jürg Henneberger
- conductor
- Christoph Bösch
- flute, alto flute
- Antje Thierbach
- oboe, English horn
- Toshiko Sakakibara
- clarinet
- Richard Haynes
- bass clarinet
- Lucas Rößner
- bassoon, contraforte
- Aurélien Tschopp
- horn
- Simon Kissling
- horn
- Nenad Marković
- trumpet
- Michael Büttler
- trombone
- Daniel Stalder
- percussion
- João Pacheco
- percussion
- Ludovic Van Hellemont
- piano, celesta
- Samuel Wettstein
- synthesizer
- Friedemann Treiber
- violin
- David Sontòn Caflisch
- violin
- Petra Ackermann
- viola
- Stéphanie Meyer
- cello
- Aleksander Gabryś
- double bass
- Fabrizio Di Salvo
- electronics
Program description
Composer Michael Jarrell’s music-theatrical work “Cassandre” is a melodrama for actress, ensemble and electronics based on the story “Cassandra” by Christa Wolf, a contemporary version of the Greek drama. The Swiss-French actress Marthe Keller inspired Jarrell to write this composition, which was premiered in French at the Théâtre du Châtelet Paris in 1994, directed by Peter Konwitschny. The German version was written for Anne Bennent and premiered at the Lucerne Festival in 1996, directed by Christoph Marthaler.
“Cassandre”
In Michael Jarrell’s oeuvre, “Cassandre” represents the culmination and synthesis of a first and extremely fruitful creative period, even though the choice of the work’s text was “dictated” to him by Christa Wolf, both musically and expressively. The figure of the Trojan priestess, reinterpreted by the German author, is torn between images of the past and impending catastrophe. Neither Wolf nor Jarrell himself want to draw us into the middle of the Trojan War: Cassandra speaks only of her memory about the events. At the beginning of the play, the worst has already happened. The pinnacle of lament – and revolt – lies not so much in a utopia of change or an attempt at a breakthrough, but rather in a kind of twilight. In a tiny space that borders on nothingness, as well as in the lightning-like certainty that precedes death, time condenses, closes, and loops back: in the intensity of feeling, the past becomes the present. The various moments of the drama do not present themselves in a causal chain that follows a realistic principle, but follow one another without transition, draw on one another and sound into one another, in a stream of consciousness that reveals the essential. The inner monologue is an attempt of clarification and an admission of failure at the same time, a combination of clear insight and melancholy. The whole work is, according to the composer, a “long coda”.
Philippe Albéra