11 Dec 2005
Edita Gruberová — The Queen of Belcanto Volume I
There are countless artists whose legend survives on their supposed fame, others leave a substantial legacy of their achievements.
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.
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.
There are countless artists whose legend survives on their supposed fame, others leave a substantial legacy of their achievements.
The former have no real value, other than to provide a cult vehicle for sycophants, the latter contribute greatly to the lasting importance of their artistry, and their art. Edita Gruberová belongs to the latter group of artists, and the public is fortunate she has been active at a time when it has been possible to leave volumes of commercially recorded CDs, DVDs, radio and television broadcasts, and the ever important “pirate” recordings.
Born on December 23, 1946, in Bratislava, Slovakia, Gruberová studied with Mária Medvecká at the Bratislava Conservatory, and later at the Academy of Music and Dramatic Arts. After singing with the Lúnica Folk Ensemble and participating in several Slovak National Theatre productions, Gruberová made her operatic debut in 1968, in her home town, as Rosina in Il Barbiere di Siviglia. Three years later she defected to the west when was engaged by the Vienna State Opera. The rest, as the phrase goes, is history. Gruberová’s international career was assured following her debut performance in Vienna as Mozart’s Queen of the Night.
The operas highlighted in this CD are well known and, therefore, it is easy to think of other singers interpreting these roles. However, be they one’s least or most favorite diva, the thought never becomes anything more than that. Gruberová makes each role her own, be it through her stratospheric singing, seemingly endless pianissimi, or impressive messa di voce and forte which seem to come out of nowhere. One thing is clear, Gruberovabá’s timbre is perfectly suited to interpret these bel canto “mad” characters; her technique, musical instinct, and her choice of perfectly placed embellishments have earned her the love and respect of fans and colleagues alike. Other than through her recordings, Gruberová is virtually little known in the U.S.A., but in Europe she has a legendary goddess stature, a true Diva, and her performances are always sold out. She is well deserving of the title “Queen of Belcanto.”
Typical of Gruberová’s style, the take of each track in this CD is slower than most other interpreters’ renditions of the same arias. Gruberová’s interpretations, tinged with the appropriate emotions, provide a different aspect of madness: these are not mature, tortured women gone over the edge; these are pouting, deceived, melancholy teenagers hurt and brokenhearted for the first time in their lives. To them there is no hope, no bright future, no possible explanation for their loss, and no redemption–not even the thought of vengeance to appease them. At a time when women were considered “property” and had nothing but their word and their chastity, madness and death are their only escape. Gruberová plays well on this psychological and historical aspect of the characters: Lucia is introspective with sporadic bursts of anger, and in spite of a sharp note at the end, Gruberová’s “duet” with the flute is one of the most effective on record. In Anna Bolena, as the impetuous young queen falsely accused, the singer is child-like in recalling her first love; in the subsequent cavattina, she is regal, realizing the madness of her immature ambition to be queen. Amina in Sonnambula is pure innocence misunderstood. Gruberová is superb in expressing the character’s sadness and grief: one can feel the tears in her voice in “Il pianto mio recarti...” leading to “Non credea mirarti” where she ironically compares the wilted flowers to Elvino’s love. This sad moment quickly turns to joy in “Ah! non giunge uman pensiero.” As Elvira, in Puritani, Gruberová vocal technique is put to the test with the character’s vacillation between madness and temporary sanity. The singer’s use of portamento is exquisite to indicate Elvira’s betrayal, despair, and mental state. Later, the pathos turns to temporary joy in “Vien, diletto, è in ciel la luna...”
This recording is coloratura at its best.
There is only one criticism of this disk: four mad scenes do not represent the wide scope of Bel Canto. Nightingale Classics, Gruberová’s recording company, has chosen to follow EMI’s lead in rehashing its one star’s recorded legacy as though it were a newly discovered masterpiece–all the tracks in this CD are taken from previously, or recently released complete opera recordings. Gruberova who, through deliberate and intelligent choices, has sung mostly Mozart, Donizetti, Bellini and Verdi, has recorded other CDs (“Donizetti Portraits,” and “Belcanto Duets”) more appropriate of the moniker given the present recording. There is another CD in the singer’s discography, titled “Mad Scenes,” which the present recording would have served well as a deserving follow up, and better titled as “Mad Scenes II”
This is a minor comment on an otherwise excellent vehicle for Gruberová, who approaching sixty years of age, is still riding high on the wave of success.
Daniel Pardo 2005
Sources
Liner Notes
Great Bel Canto Scenes
Giorgio Migliavacca
© Nightingale Classics