“I can say frankly, we always feel like we’re on holiday when we travel together,” says French opera singer Laurent Naouri of touring with his wife, Natalie Dessay. “No other hassles but music — no bills, no domestic chores — voilà.”
Sounds perfect — and the couple’s latest getaway is also a treat for audiences as they are in the capital to perform together at the opening concert of Abu Dhabi Festival’s main programme.
It’s a fitting launch for this year’s event, which has chosen France as it’s “country of honour”. The couple will perform a hand-picked programme of “exquisite, quintessentially French” songs — solos and duets — by the likes of Fauré, Poulenc and Delibes, backed only by piano.
Indeed, it was their Polish pianist Maciej Pikulski who suggested the idea of an intimate show, featuring just the three of them, in 2014.
Naouri and Dessay have shared an opera stage previously during their 20-year marriage, but such a stripped-back pairing would play out their romance more publicly than ever. Who was first to say yes?
“Well, maybe I started off a little more enthusiastically,” says Naouri, “but it did not take very long to convince Natalie. Not at all.”
There were two rules when selecting the repertoire. First, though they are both renowned opera singers — him a baritone, her a “retired” soprano — no arias were allowed.
“We don’t like opera without the orchestra,” says Naouri, 51.
Rule two? French lyrics only.
“It’s logical for French people to sing in French,” says Dessay, 50, with characteristic clarity.
Still, performing such “quintessentially” French songs, based on 19th-century texts by greats such as Hugo, Verlaine and Baudelaire, does carry certain preconceptions.
“There’s maybe, sometimes, a misconception that these songs can be kitschy,” says Naouri. “Some French singers have a way of dealing with this repertoire I don’t agree with.
“In the early 20th century there was a kind of emphasis on the most innocent, sentimental aspects of the poetry, forgetting that all these texts were written by very lively personalities, full of fire, full of passion. We try to sweep the little flowers and decorative mannerisms away, and present these poems with all the passion we feel they were written with.”
Talking to the couple, in separate interviews, it can seem that they hail from opposing poles. Naouri is warm, chatty and effusive, speaking in long, meandering monologues. Dessay, meanwhile, talks in short, sharp phrases, brittle with wit and verve. Opposites do attract, it seems.
Regardless of their different demeanour as interviewees — and, it should be noted, we were speaking in English — there is one thing on which they readily agree: there was not a moment of conflict while creating the programme of music that the audience will hear at Emirates Palace on Sunday, April 10.
“It’s not difficult to sing together, not at all, because we have the same musical experience, the same taste — it’s something organic,” says Dessay. “We argue about children, and education, but about music — never.”
Naouri is a touch more romantic in his assessment.
“[Singing together] releases a lot of pressure on both of us,” he says. “The most difficult thing is really that I want her to be proud of me when I sing. It’s not about her working with me, it’s about her being in the hall. I really want her to be happy with what I do.”
It is a strikingly honest sentiment. There’s no denying that despite the co-billing, Dessay’s fame is significantly greater than Naouri’s. And while he continues to tread the boards at opera houses around the world, resuming a stint in Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande later this year, Dessay retired with great fanfare from the form in 2013.
“For me, opera was like a golden cage,” she says. “After a while I really wanted to escape, to express myself in a different way.”
These include performing English playwright Howard Barker’s one-woman monologue, Und, and a recent role in the Paris premiere of the Stephen Sondheim musical, Passion.
It does not seem too unfair to ask Naouri whether he is ever intimated by his wife’s renown?
“Not at all,” he says. “When we met 26 years ago, it was obvious she was going to be one of the 10 most important singers of her generation. It was clear to me from the start. At that time I didn’t even know if I’d chosen the right path — I was considering actually giving up singing — so all in all, it’s developed in quite a fortunate way.”
• Natalie Dessay and Laurent Naouri in Recital is at Emirates Palace on Sunday, April 10, at 8pm; tickets start at Dh125. For more information, visit www.abudhabifestival.ae
LONDON (Reuters) - French soprano Natalie Dessay gave a recent recital in London that one critic called “sublime” and her latest CD of French art songs has been well received, but she says her fans will never see her again on the opera stage that made her famous.
Dessay, the petite gamine of the French opera world, soared to fame as the mechanical doll Olympia in Offenbach’s “Tales of Hoffmann” and scared the living daylights out of her male counterparts as the mad, knife-wielding Lucia in Donizetti’s “Lucia di Lammermoor”.
But at age 50, she says the opera is no longer for her.
“I have no roles anymore, I’ve done everything I could do and I don’t want to repeat myself over and over,” Dessay told Reuters in an interview at London’s Barbican.
At the weekend she gave a recital there that received largely favorable notices, including one in The Telegraph that said: “Dessay’s sublime voice has found its way to our hearts”.
With reviews like that, why has she cast off a two-decade-long opera career that won her an adoring audience everywhere from London’s Covent Garden to the Paris Opera to Salzburg and to the Metropolitan Opera in New York?
“I was frustrated because when you have to sing you can’t really express yourself as an actress as much as you want, because you’re constrained by the music,” she said.
“I always wanted to be an actress and I define myself as an actress who happened to sing. What I really like is being on stage playing characters.”
What anyone who had the luck to see Dessay on the opera stage will recall is how she made her characters come to life.
Her portrayal of the betrayed Lucia, for example, was famously powerful — and the Met Opera papered New York with posters of Dessay in the role for a revival there in 2011.
“I try to understand what she’s going through, but I’m not playing the madness, I’m playing the suffering, and that’s enough,” she said.
With opera behind her, Dessay is alternating song recitals, with piano accompanist Philippe Cassard, and tours with the French pop song and film composer Michel Legrand, but her real passion is for live theater.
She recently starred in a French revival of the British playwright Howard Barker’s dark, one-woman play “Und”, about a Jewish woman whose guest is overdue for tea, and who will not accept that the reason her house comes under a series of escalating malicious attacks is because the visitor is a German camp officer.
She is looking for more such roles, but in the meantime she hopes her opera audiences will look out for her in the different venues where she will still be performing.
“It turns all the time around the same thing,” she said. “How to make people travel with me, how to tell them stories in different ways.”
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Writing by Michael Roddy; Editing by Gareth Jones