LYDIA LIPKOVSKA

Southland Times, Issue 19125, 18 December 1923, Page 5

LYDIA LIPKOVSKA

THE RUSSIAN SINGER AN ENCHANTING PERSONALITY. SONGS, ACTING AND BEAUTIFUL DRESSES. One of the traditions of the English concert platform is that there should be nothing to assist the singer beyond the voice and facial expression. Not so very long ago great artists who moved from opera to the concert stage found themselves strangely handicapped by these restraints, which were protected from the unconventional intruders with jealous care. Then came a few brave souls who dared to use gestures when they were singing and even to move about the stage. They made sparing use these liberties, and the protectors of the conventions were lulled into a false sense of security. That was the beginning of the downfall of the conventions which for years had permitted only shackled hiatrionism to take part in the interpretation of song outside of the opera. The Russians seem to have broken down the last barriers. They believe in the reinforcement of the singer by every histrionic artifice bo that the utmost can be done with the interpretation of vocal music. The first exponent of this dramatic attack heard in Invercargill is Mme. Lydia Lipkovska, who gave a recital last night in the Municipal Theatre, unfortunately the only one which Invercargill is to have. Mme. Lipkovska believes not only in using all her power* as an actress, but she knows that appropriate dressing assists materially in the creation of what we are pleased to cal! atmosphere. If she is to sing Russian songs, she arrears in a glorious costume of medieval Russia, with a magnificent jewelled head-dress and a blue scarf hanging from it down her back. An Early Victoran dress—crinoline and curls--sets the scene for a bracket of old songs, closing with Pontel’s old “Tit for Tat.” The purist may argue that this is sheer “stunting,” and takes the attention off the music—some Shakespearean devotee* insist that modern scenery is a distraction and behave like distracted people when it is used—but the gods may be thanked for the flouting of tne purists, because Mme. Lipkovska has shown us how the interpretation of song may be armed with character and made to reveal life. It would be unjust to suggest that these beautiful dresses distract—they heighten the illusion but they would be nothing if Mme. Lipkovska were not a great actress.

Madame’s skill as an actress holds the secret of her capturing charm. She has a soprano voice of fine quality—one’s joy in it increases—which she uses with good tonal effect, and with marked facility, but in very florid passages this quality is impaired. Particularly was this noticeable in "Ah, fors e lui from “La Traviata,” the least satisfying number of the evening. In lyrio sopranos one expects to find the coloratura effects obtained with smoothness and ease, so one would eschew that term in describing this Russian artist. She is a lyrical soprano of rare excellence, a brilliant comedienne armed with a charming, well-trained •voice. At times one noticed a tendency to distort intervals, the imperfect intonation being noticeable particularly in florid passages, but with these reservations made nothing can diminish the glory that was here in such a song as “Laiasez-Moi Rire” by Controne. This was a masterwork of interpretation, full of emotional subtleties. With nothing but this remarkable achievement, Mme. Lipkovska would have an unanswerable claim on our undying gratitude. But Controne’s song was not alone. In the same bracket was Cyril Scott’s “Lullaby.” done with exquisite tenderness. "At Sunset,” by Eric Coates, was also a beautiful piece of singing. In the R ussian section the audience met a new personality, for Mme. Lipkovska does not rest with a change of An old song by Varlamoff was a gem, only slightly less effective than Olgas Song” from Dargomijsky s “Russalka,” a peculiar piece of writing which suggested more than it said. In it Madame was wonderful. Gretchanin.. ; “The Snowflakes” and "The Snowdro»” were sung with charming grace and childish simplicity. Her faultless style in songs of this kind was seen too in a little fairy song, as beautiful and as fragile us a dewdrop in the sun. The Rachmaninoff number, “The Islet.” was extremely difficult, touched with melancholy and at the first bearing obscure. When Madame entered for her final programme items she wore an Early Victorian dress and assumed the mincing primness, which people to-day have been taught to associate with the j>eriod. She sang Victorian songs, but not the Early Victorians sang them. “Long Long Ago” was treated to dramatically to be in the picture of a period when such revelations were considered unmaidenly, but it was an effective number, far belter than it would have been sung in the manner of its time. Carey’s “A Pastoral,” was not smooth enough, but "When I Was Seventeen,” was clear delight aiui “Tit for Tat” has never been sung in these parts with such artistry. Madame’s English has faint traces of a Continental accent, enough to make it pleasant to the ear without interfering with its clarity. Her final encore unfortunately wu* “Someuher a Voice is Calling,” which even her extraordinary skill could not save. Madame was assisted by some exceedingly well-balanced accompaniments played by M. Alexander Sverjensky, a pianist who surmounted difficulties with merit. It is a great handicap for a performer of his calibre to be saddled with sn upright pianoforte which would be effective in a room, but is incapable of volume sufficient for the requirements of the theatre. Invercargill should have a horizontal instrument for ‘occasions such as these. M. Sverjensky plays with impressive facility and on a full grand, where his tone would have a chance to come through, he would be an exceedingly effective performer. Both artists were enthusiastically received, the audience being loth to let them go at the conclusion of one of the most enjoyable concerts given here for many, many years.