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Das Rheingold launches what is perhaps the single most ambitious project in opera, Richard Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen.
This live performance of Laurent Pelly’s Glyndebourne staging of
Humperdinck’s affectionately regarded fairy tale opera, was recorded at
Glyndebourne Opera House in July and August 2010, and the handsomely produced
disc set — the discs are presented in a hard-backed, glossy-leaved book and
supplemented by numerous production photographs and an informative article by
Julian Johnson — is certainly stylish and unquestionably recommendable.
Recorded at a live performance in 2012, this CD brings together an eclectic
selection of turn-of-the-century orchestral songs and affirms the extraordinary
versatility, musicianship and technical accomplishment of mezzo-soprano
Once I was: Songs by Ricky Ian Gordon features an assortment of
songs by Ricky Ian Gordon interpreted by soprano Stacey Tappan, a longtime
friend of the composer since their work on his opera Morning Star at
the Lyric Opera of Chicago.
Alfredo Kraus, one of the most astute artists in operatic history in terms of careful management of technique and vocal resources, once said in an interview that ‘you have to make a choice when you start to sing and decide whether you want to service the music, and be at the top of your art, or if you want to be a very popular tenor.’
In generations past, an important singer’s first recording of Italian arias would almost invariably have included the music of Verdi.
With celebrations of the Verdi Bicentennial in full swing, there have been
many grumblings about the precarious state of Verdi singing in the world’s
major opera houses today.
In the thirty-five years immediately following its American première at the Metropolitan Opera in 1914, Italo Montemezzi’s ‘Tragic Poem in Three Acts’ L’amore dei tre re was performed in New York on sixty-six occasions.
Few operas inspire the kind of competing affection and controversy that have surrounded Mozart’s Così fan tutte almost since its first performance in Vienna in 1790.
During his career in film, opera, and operetta, Richard Tauber (1891 - 1948) enjoyed the sort of global fame that eludes all but the tiniest handful of ‘serious’ singers today.
Known principally for its two concert show-pieces for the leading lady, the success of Francesco Cilea’s Adriana Lecouvreur relies upon finding a soprano willing to take on, and able to pull off, the eponymous role.
It would be condescending and perhaps even offensive to suggest that singing
traditional Spirituals is a rite a passage for artists of color, but the musical heritage of the United States has been greatly enriched by the performances and recordings of Spirituals by important artists such as Paul Robeson, Marian Anderson, Leontyne Price, Martina Arroyo, Shirley Verrett, Grace Bumbry, Jessye Norman, Barbara Hendricks, Florence Quivar, Kathleen Battle, Harolyn Blackwell, and Denyce Graves.
As a companion to their excellent Great Wagner Singers boxed set
compiled and released in celebration of the Wagner Bicentennial, Deutsche
Grammophon have also released Great Wagner Conductors, a selection of
orchestral music conducted by five of the most iconic Wagnerian conductors of
the Twentieth Century, extracted from Deutsche Grammophon’s extensive
There could be no greater gift to the Wagnerian celebrating the Master’s
Bicentennial than this compilation from Deutsche Grammophon, aptly entitled
Great Wagner Singers.
What better way for Masonic brothers, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and Emmanuel Shikaneder to disseminate Masonic virtues, than through the most popular musical entertainment of their age, a happy ending folktale that features a dragon, enchanting flutes and bells, mixed-up parentage, and a beautiful young princess in distress?
Since its first performance at the Teatro Santi Giovanni e Paolo during Venice’s 1643 Carnevale, Monteverdi’s L’Incoronazione di Poppea has been one of the most important milestones in the genesis of modern opera despite its 250 years of unmerited obscurity.
Though 2013 is the bicentennial of the births of Giuseppe Verdi and Richard Wagner, the releases of Cecilia Bartoli’s recording of Bellini’s Norma on DECCA, a new studio recording of Donizetti’s Caterina Cornaro from Opera Rara, and this première recording of Saverio Mercadante’s forgotten I due Figaro, suggest that this is the start of a summer of bel canto.
Recording Richard Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen is for a
record label equivalent to a climber reaching the summit of Mount Everest: it is the zenith from which a label surveys its position among its rivals and appreciates an achievement that can define its reputation for a generation.
Few people who love opera in general and bel canto in particular have never heard the comment made by Lilli Lehmann, veteran of the inaugural Ring at Bayreuth in 1876, that singing all three of Wagner’s Brünnhildes—in Die Walküre, Siegfried, and
Götterdämmerung, respectively, all of which she sang to great acclaim—pales in comparison with singing the title rôle in Bellini’s Norma.
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.
19 Sep 2005
HANDEL: L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato, HWV 55
Joachim Carlos Martini is well represented in the Naxos catalog with recordings of Handel oratorios, including Athalia, Saul, Il Trionfo del Tempo . . ., Deborah, the “pasticcio” oratorios, Gideon and Nabal, and this recent release of L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato. Narrowly traditional views of what an oratorio ought to be—a Biblical narrative in a dramatic frame—are stretched here, and this is a good reminder that the term “oratorio” was used flexibly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
Handel, with works like the allegorical Il Trionfo del Tempo or the distinctly non-narrative Messiah, embraced this flexible sense of the genre well. Here a concoction blending texts from Milton’s poems of outlook, “L’Allegro,” and “il Penseroso,” and Charles Jennens’ via media between them (“il Moderato”) becomes an oratorio extolling a moderate, temperate path between the affective extremes of cheerful mirth and brooding melancholy. No dramatic narrative, no plot, no explicit religious theme, no scriptural text. The premise of the libretto then may stretch our sense of the genre, but it requires little if any stretch to see how well it accords with larger Handelian themes. Decades ago, Donald Grout, in a memorable phrase, urged us to think of eighteenth-century opera seria as an “opera of moods,” a dramatic form in which the conflict of plot and characters is subsumed by the conflict of the emotions they represent. In L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato we find a trope of that same idea in the oratorio: rival moods are in conflict and they seek a harmonic resolution.
There are a number of compelling aspects of this recording. Martini’s interpretation is stylistically convincing, born, one suspects, of his deep immersion in this repertory. The solo playing of the Frankfurt Baroque Orchestra is of a high order, and with the wonderful obligatto writing for solo flute, horn, viola da gamba, trumpet, oboe, and bassoon, Handel highlights them in many of the oratorio’s most memorable movements. The Canadian soprano, Linda Perillo, offers a gratifyingly clear and pure high register that she uses to advantage in her Penseroso sections. And this, with her ability to negotiate ornamental passagework with flair and precision, makes her the most stylistically adept of the soloists. Admittedly, some of her singing here suffers from pitch problems in the low register, but the overall impression is of one much at home in this style. Her Allegro soprano counterpart is Barbara Hannigan, a casting that proves advantageous, for the contrast of sound between the two sopranos heightens the sense of character. Perillo’s pensive pose is well served by her purity of sound; similarly Hannigan’s mirthful milieu is enhanced by the vibrancy of her voice. To some ears, this vibrancy will seem exaggerated in this style. Though not totally pervasive, her vibrato seems to go beyond ornamental discretion to the point that much sounds trilled—even on uneventful weak syllables. Nevertheless, her vibrancy does not hamper her agility and articulation, and she brings to her airs a compelling sense of character. The men have a bit less to do. Bass Stephan MacLeod possesses a congenial sound and a well deployed technical agility. However, both he and tenor Knut Schoch on occasion lapse into an English pronunciation that is more foreign than one might wish. And Schoch’s lack of attention to articulation in rapid passagework can also be problematic.
As with other of Martini’s Handel recordings, this is a recording of a live concert given at the Cistercian Kloster Eberbach. This generous acoustic seems to have created a number of problems, as well. The chorus sounds as though it is singing in a cavern, distant and with little presence. The soloists seem welcomingly much closer at hand, but whatever engineering has brought them there also seems to have veiled their sound. As a result of live recording in a challenging setting, balance issues emerge problematically, as well, particularly among the instrumental forces in the hauntingly beautiful air, “But oh, sad Virgin.”
I have reserved the final criticism for the recording company, Naxos, whose failure to supply a libretto within the CD package is a frustrating economy. Though sung in English, the text is both long and literary, and listening without a libretto tends to leave the listener lost in Handel’s sounds, pleasantly diverted, but lost nonetheless. Naxos does invite the listener to download a libretto from their website, however. This I did. Now I wonder what to do with the twelve full-size pages! If this is the way of the future, the loss of convenience is a nettlesome one.
In the final reckoning, this recording of L’Allegro, il Penseroso, ed il Moderatopresents a fair number of blemishes. However, it also provides a reading that rewards and gratifies in a number of instances. At the end of the oratorio the libretto extols moderation; at the end of this review, I find myself gravitating to a moderate position as well.