Björk / Jan Dvorák / Peter Häublein / Roman Vinuesa: Vespertine: A Pop Album as an Opera
Oehms Classics

Ask any opera devotee to explain why certain works remain perennial favourites, even if they were written centuries ago and have been staged countless times, and said individual will probably cite melody as the number one reason; stated otherwise, if Turandot, The Magic Flute, and Tosca have anything in common, it's ravishing, unforgettable melodies. Which is one reason why the 2018 staging of Björk's Vespertine by Mannheim National Theater and Hotel Pro Forma was so rapturously received. Of all the Icelandic artist's albums, it's her 2001 song cycle that arguably lends itself best to an opera treatment because of its intense vulnerability and emotional expression. A century separates her recording from Madama Butterfly, yet the musical universe the opera rendering inhabits shares much with Puccini's.

Working with the songs by Björk and her Vespertine collaborators (Mark Bell, Thomas Knak, Valgeir Sigurdsson, Guy Sigsworth, Zeena Parkins, Vince Mendoza, Matmos, etc.) as a template, the album material was transformed into an operatic score by Jan Dvorák, Peter Häublein, and Roman Vinuesa (a Hamburg-based collective that goes by the name Himmelfahrt Scores), the result a new creation as opposed to adaptation. In place of Björk's voice, the work features four soloists and two choirs, and the music box, harp, and electronics that make the original songs shimmer so magically are replicated in the opera production, too, though augmented by strings, brass, woodwinds, and percussion.

A narrative was fashioned for the opera involving a female scientist and her doppelgänger, the two engaged in lab research relating to modern biology, computer sciences, and the creation of artificial life. The concept is provocative and timely, for sure, though the story details become secondary once the glorious sound mass appears. For close to eighty minutes, the opera holds the listener in thrall, with Dvorák, Häublein, and Vinuesa turning Björk's songs into a production that's totally engrossing.

The success of the opera hinges on four elements in particular, the foundational material by Björk, the singing by sopranos Ji Yoon (the scientist) and Aki Hashimoto (her doppelgänger), the orchestral treatment, and the seamlessness with which the re-creators have woven the album's sinuous songs into a compelling new design. Despite the involvement of singers, choirs (women's and children's), and orchestral resources, the poignancy of Björk's songs doesn't get lost in the process. Much of that's attributable to the sopranos' singing, which retains the earmarks of the original material whilst imbuing it with a formal elegance; the emotional outpourings of Yoon and Hashimoto replicate the impact of Björk's on the original album, and when the sopranos intertwine you might even find yourself reminded of something like the famous third act trio in Der Rosenkavalier. Interestingly, the boy soprano Simon Oesch (The Cloud Boy) sounds a bit similar in his delivery to Björk's (his part's modest in size), and in his performance of “An Echo, a Stain” the deep baritone of Raymond Ayers (The Illuminated Man) brings contrast to the female singers' voices. But it's Yoon and Hashimoto who, in conjunction with the instrumental forces and the choirs, dominate and magnificently so.

Structurally, four brief intermission tracks act as bridges within the twenty-two-track design, with those familiar Vespertine songs presented in the same sequence as on the original album. Of course, you'd have to see the production to appreciate how all the pieces fit into the narrative, but listening to it sans visuals is hardly unrewarding. Following an introduction through which chilly winds blow and muffled horns intone, “Hidden Place” sets the tone with the sopranos' emotive outpourings heard alongside rising waves of choral voices and orchestral instruments. Vespertine's gentlest song, “Cocoon,” receives a deeply sensitive reading, with the sopranos' voices floating heavenward and complemented by the bright tinkling of the glockenspiel and strum of the harp; as powerful is “Pagan Poetry,” which bolsters its heartfelt vocal exultations with an epic surround aswirl with strings, choral voices, and percussion. Being a live recording, some ambient noises from the stage and audience are audible, but they're not so intrusive they detract greatly from the recording.

Ultimately, the melodies that so elevated the Vespertine songs “It's Not Up to You,” “Aurora,” and “Unison” do the same in the opera treatment, and those with deep, abiding affection for the original likely will be won over by this exceptional re-imagining. The emotional pitch of a song such as “Undo” is so potent, it's almost impossible to not be drawn into its world, and the moment in “Unison” when the soprano's “Let's unite tonight / We shouldn't fight” soars climactically near the album's end is but one incredible moment of many.

July 2019