The West Coast debut of Czech mezzo Magdalena Kozena in Herbst Theater
tonight was full of surprises, beginning with her first appearance on
stage.  It is a near-unalterable rule that publicity photos must beautify
artists and make them look younger (sometimes younger by decades,
especially near the end of a career).  Kozena looks much younger and
more attractive in real life.  Appearance combined with her biography
suggests that she may be about 30 - a bambino in mezzo years.

A more significant surprise: she sounds better live than on her carefully
(excessively?) engineered recordings.

And then, the top head-scratcher for this listener: the old silly adage
"I don't know much, but I know what I like" being twisted into "I like,
but I don't know why."

Kozena is clearly an artist whose performance is more than the sum of
its parts.  The total picture is one of an excellent communicator, who
grabs and holds the audience, of a singer who is attractive and effective,
of a performer, who is very likeable.

And these are the parts: a lithe voice, without weight or center, a
charming way of singing, but without variation, making most of the program
- which WAS varied - sound alike.

Programming and the brilliant participation of pianist Malcolm Martineau
were exceptional.  And, where the true nature of selections jibed with
Kozena's lithe mezzo lite, all was well with the world.

Bohuslav Martinu's seven songs on Moravian folk poetry, Ravel's amusing
and clever "Histoires naturelles," a handful of Dvorak "folk-style songs,"
three songs by the little-known Beethoven contemporary Jan Josef Roesler
were highly enjoyable, expertly performed.

When it came to Mahler, a good time was had by the cuckoo and the
nightingale in "Lob des hohen Verstands," but "Rheinlegendchen" was
wanting in weight and depth, and "Urlicht" was simply disappointing.
Kozena sang it as an "art song," prettily and well, even indicating
with facial expression and body language that something Significant is
to be found here, but there was none of the wrenching power, the slowly,
inexorably soaring development to exaltation in the performance (which,
to report objectively, received warm and loud applause).

The climax of the recital came with Shostakovich's Opus 109, a virtually
unknown song cycle in the West, something fitting Kozena like a
musical/dramatic/comic glove, and vastly enhanced by Martineau's
accompaniment.

Written in 1960, the five songs - echt-Shostakovich in edgy-gutsy,
ironic, stunning music - were written to text by Sascha Chyorny (Alexander
Glikberg), dealing with personal and societal satire, Chekovian in scale,
Voltairean (or, actually, Shostakovich-like) in bite and genteel bitterness.
The certainty and excellence of Kozena's performance made the voice
appear to possess the power and projection that may not be really there.
Yes, an evening of surprises.

Janos Gereben/SF
www.sfcv.org
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