The main subject of today’s post is the adaptation of Carmen made by Oscar Hammerstein II in 1943 for an all-black cast, as revived by the Classic Stage Company here in New York for a run that has just ended. ^(I)First, though, I can’t resist bringing you a brief coda to the discussion of keyboard continuo playing we’ve had running over the last three posts (q.v.). Piano maven Gregor Benko called our conversation to the attention of his friend and colleague Frank Cooper, a retired professor, harpsichord collector, and expert in “harpsichordiana.” Prof. Cooper comments as follows:

“Missing from this highly informed exchange is the instrument itself which was used in all Italian opera houses and is depicted in the pits of some other countries—the thinly constructed Italian harpsichords made from cedar, with no lids to aim their product. Voiced properly, they radiate sound instantly, brightly, with pronounced ictus and rapid decay. Hence, they impart bite to the rhythmic impulse of the ensemble, give the pitches clearly, and thus are maximally utilitarian. They invite ornamentation to keep the sound alive—thus helping pitches to aid the singers who, in Baroque and Classical operas, sang from close to the lip of the stage and straight at the audience. Second best are early Flemish and German types; least best, the ubiquitous 18th Century French models with their suave sophistication. Now they do get lost as continuo instruments in pits. Chances overall for clarity come from so-called ‘authentic’ instrument ensembles for obvious reasons. Leather-plectra-ed Pleyels, Neuperts, Sperrhakes and their like in the once-modern vein were virtually inaudible without amplification against modern instrumental ensembles.”

To which Will Crutchfield responded:

“Every word [of Prof. Cooper’s commentary] is exactly right. He is talking about harpsichords, and describing, in much more specific detail, the types I was referring to in my very first answer about Don Giovanni. [At the Purchase performances of Mayr’s Medea and Rossini’s Tancredi] we were playing not a harpsichord but a piano, a replica of I can’t recall what original—I think it’s Viennese and circa 1800. We call such things fortepianos today. But that’s an arbitrary term to make a useful modern distinction. “Pianoforte” and “fortepiano” were synonymous alternatives at the time, and since the world settled on the former, the latter was revived when people wanted simply to describe an early version of the thing. The relevant point is that it can play either forte or piano depending on the physical force applied by the player, which is exactly what a harpsichord doesn’t do. On harpsichord the player creates more volume by throwing stops and playing a greater quantity of notes.

“‘Fortepianos’ also vary in strength. Ours wouldn’t be loud enough for playing any version of a concerto, but is very well suited to recit and continuo playing, and playing whatever in a living room.”