Paul Dukas’ Ariane et Barbe-Bleue, first heard in 1907, once seemed important. Arturo Toscanini conducted the Met premiere in 1911 with Farrar and later arranged some of its music for a 1947 recording with his NBC Symphony.
The economics of the recording companies dictate much that is not ideal. Wagner’s operas were not composed as they were in order to permit the extraction of bleeding chunks, even on those occasions when strophic song forms do occur.
Among the recent recordings of Mahler’s Eighth Symphony, Valery Gergiev’s release on the LSO Live label is an excellent addition to the discography of this work.
While not unknown, the songs of Alexander von Zemlinsky (1871-1942) deserve to be heard more frequently.
Recorded on 5 and 6 May 2008 and 17 and 18 January 2009 at the Lisztzentrum (Raiding, Austria), this recent Bridge release makes available the piano-vocal versions of three song cycles by Gustav Mahler, Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen, Rückert-Lieder, and Kindertotenlieder performed by mezzo-soprano Hermine Haselböck, accompanied by Russell Ryan.
Contraltos rarely achieve the acclaim and renown of sopranos. Assigned few leading roles in opera, they are condemned to playing the villain or the grandmother, or to stealing the castrati’s trousers in en travesti roles.
Following their 2011 Decca recording of Striggio’s Mass in 40 Parts (1566), I Fagiolini continue their quest to unearth lost treasures of the High Renaissance and early Baroque, with this collection of world-premiere recordings, ‘reconstructions’ and ‘reconstitutions’ of music by Giovanni and Andrea Gabrieli, Monteverdi, Palestrina, and their less well-known compatriots Viadana, Barbarino and Soriano.
Eternal Echoes is an album of khazones [Jewish cantorial music] for cantorial soloist, solo violin and a blended instrumental ensemble comprising a small orchestra and the Klezmer Conservatory Band.
Michael Tilson Thomas’s recording of Mahler’s Third Symphony is an outstanding contribution to the composer’s discography.
Oliver Knussen burst into British music with an unprecedented flourish. In 1967, the London Symphony Orchestra premiered Knussen’s First Symphony, with István Kertész scheduled to conduct.
Based on performances given in Summer 2010 at the Lucerne Festival, this recording of Beethoven’s Fidelio is an admirable recording that captures the vitality of the work as conducted by Claudio Abbado.
Stanisław Moniuszko (1819-1872) was one of the most popular composers of his day in Poland, and of the many works he wrote for the stage, two are performed from time to time, Halka (1848) and Strazny dwór [The Haunted Manor] (1865).
The Polish alto Jadwiga Rappé is a familiar voice in various stage and concert works, and the recent release of a selection of songs by Stanisław Moniuszko (1819-1872) is an opportunity to hear her performing artsongs.
Originally released on multiple discs in 1981 this reissue on two CDs is a comprehensive collection of art songs by Italian and French composers from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
An exciting contribution to the discography of this popular opera, the live performance of Richard Strauss’s Salome from the Festspielhaus at Baden-Baden is a compelling DVD.
Released in late 2011, Deutsche Grammophon’s DVD of the new staging of Berg’s Lulu at the Gran Teatro del Liceu, Barcelona is an excellent contribution to the discography of this fascinating opera.
A recent release by the Metropolitan Opera, this two-disc set makes available on DVD the famous performance of Berg’s Lulu that was broadcast on 20 December 1980 as part of the PBS series “Live from the Met.”
The novels of Sinclair Lewis once shot across the American literary skies like comets, alarming and fascinating readers of that era, but their tails didn’t extend far behind them.
Once the province of only the most dedicated opera fanatics, mid-20th century recordings of privately taped live performances have become more widely available.
Flute players in opera orchestra around the world must look forward to the frequent appearances of Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, knowing that while the stage spotlight in the mad scene will be on the soprano, the orchestral spotlight will be on their instrument.
Il Trovatore Giuseppe Verdi, music and Salvatore Cammarano and Leone Emanuele Bardare, libretto TDK DVUS-CLOPIT Raina Kabaivanska (Leonora) Fiorenza Cossotto (Azucena) Plácido Domingo (Manrico) Piero Cappuccilli (Conte di Luna) José van Dam (Ferrando) Maria Venuti (Inez) Heinz Zednik (Ruiz) Karl...
Il Trovatore
Giuseppe Verdi, music and Salvatore Cammarano and Leone Emanuele Bardare, libretto
TDK DVUS-CLOPIT
Raina Kabaivanska (Leonora)
Fiorenza Cossotto (Azucena)
Plácido Domingo (Manrico)
Piero Cappuccilli (Conte di Luna)
José van Dam (Ferrando)
Maria Venuti (Inez)
Heinz Zednik (Ruiz)
Karl Caslavsky (Un vecchio zingaro)
Ewanld Aichberger (Un messo)
Vienna state opera chorus and orchestra
Herbert von Karajan, conductor
Enrico Caruso famously stipulated that all a satisfactory Trovatore needs is the world's four greatest singers. Of course, given the hot passions that run through opera fandom, at any given time determining just who those four greatest singers might be would probably never be an easy affair. Nevertheless, TDK's recent release on DVD of a 1978 Vienna production offers wonderful testimony to support Caruso's conjecture, which the additional provisos that one shouldn't slight the leadership of a great conductor who loves the work, and the smaller roles benefit from careful casting as well.
The booklet for this DVD set relates the history of the production, one not only conducted by Karajan but also designed and directed by him. A rather dark picture denies the viewer much chance to fully evaluate the physical production — painted backdrops of a type Verdi would have known well seem to dominate. Perhaps it is better this way. Trovatore's convoluted plot arguably works better in a setting that promotes atmosphere over specifics, and the dim, oppressive aura emanating from Karajan's very traditional production never interferes with the singers. Their rich and traditional costumes give the viewer much to admire, however.
And oh, those singers. Placido Domingo, according to the booklet, stepped in at the last minute to replace a troubled Franco Bonisolli. Looking fit and suitably dark and handsome, Domingo's darker sound fits most of Manrico well — the Di quella pira being one unfortunate exception. Only here do conductor and singer momentarily choose different tempos, and Domingo omits all the traditional Manrico interjections during the chorus, turning around at the last moment to project a not especially thrilling high note on a single "all' armi." As this follows the longest ovation of the evening, for a wonderfully smooth and masculine Ah si, ben mio, Domingo has nothing to be ashamed of.
Raina Kabaivanska's Leonora has enough feminine grace and beauty to make both Manrico's and the Count's passion fully understandable. Her exquisitely floated high notes do much to excuse an occasional clouded tone at the end of long lines. The act one Tacea la notte goes beautifully; by act four, understandably, D'amor sull'ali rosee has to be more carefully approached. A superbly acted final scene caps this fine performance.
Piero Cappuccilli manages the difficult feat of showing both the cruel, even sadistic side of the Count di Luna while earning our sympathy for a man desperate for the beauty of a love in a life marked by war and tragedy. His performance grows through the evening, and von Karajan knows that here he has a singer who does not need to "act" — his handsomely sculpted profile and hooded eyes tell all we need to know, while the voice throbs with masculine passion.
As Azucena, Fiorenza Cossotto may alarm some viewers with her acting, which is, to put it mildly, unrestrained, but no one could quibble over the superb control of her gorgeous voice. She makes every moment of Azucena's music into an argument in support of Verdi's original intention to name the opera after this character. And to see the singer at the final curtain, still unrestrained in her passionate acceptance of the crowd's wild enthusiasm, may be to realize that her acting was, for her, quite natural.
Before any of these great singers reach the stage, Verdi has the opening scene of exposition, which can throw a Trovatore off the tracks right at the start if not well delivered. Here von Karajan has a younger Jose van Dam, and the evening gets going with appropriately ominous, exciting singing. Even the Ruiz here is a name not to be dismissed — Heinz Zednik, the fantastic character tenor of the Boulez Bayreuth Ring.
The camerawork provides movement for the viewer where Karajan's direction does not; however, one might wish that the Count was visible at the climax, as the camera focuses only on Azucena. A strange filter over the screen in the garden scene apparently could not be removed — a minor distraction, but annoying. The titles, as so often seem to be the case, could have used another round of editing.
Although the DVD set comes on two discs, surely to accommodate the many curtain calls, it has no extra features. This is disappointing, as the booklet mentions an intermission interview with the conductor at the time of original broadcast. However, no lover of this magnificent score should deny him/herself the pleasures of this release. Perhaps not the least of those pleasures is the sight of conductor Karajan being hit on the head by an errant bouquet at final curtain, which is capped by the conductor bending down to accept from the orchestra pit a bundle of flowers almost as large as himself. Consider that the true bonus to this treasurable document of inspired, passionate Verdi performance, circa 1978.
Chris Mullins