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.
This version of Lehár’s second most popular operetta is not one for purists. By the mid-seventies, it was already clear that one of the biggest tragedies of Western classical music was taking place — the disappearance of operetta with its tons of wonderful music.
There were several reasons. Many German-language operetta stories took place in Austria-Hungary and the knowledge and familiarity with its history, its social mores and its nobility were quickly going away so that it all became old-fashioned and stale. Many operetta librettos were silly, though not sillier than most opera stories — the big difference being that impossible reunions, incredible coincidences are often skipped over in recitative in opera while in operetta they are mercilessly exposed in minutes of spoken dialogue. And, of course, the waltz no longer reigned supreme in an age where the onslaught of rock killed so many marvellous and inspired melodies.
During the sixties and early seventies, German television regularly broadcast its own productions of classic operettas, usually on New Year’s Eve and regrettably with first class singers doubled by actors. I remember Sandor Konya singing Paganini, though not acting it. And recently, a CD appeared with another and more purist Land des Lächelns with Fritz Wunderlich (who never sang an operetta on screen) while another operetta tenor, Gerhard Riedmann, acted the part. When colour came to the European continent at the end of the sixties, TV-operetta became showier, often taking clues from American musical movies with a dim view of those arias and duets that slowed the show, while open throated singing didn’t make for flashy pictures. Therefore producers and directors thought for a short time that distorting the story, cutting the music or even inserting numbers from other works (sometimes not even by the same composer) could salvage something from the wreck of changing taste. In the end it didn’t help much and operetta is now very low on the scale of merit. Strangely enough a lot of music remains known, sometimes even on a somewhat subconscious level, and when it pops up one is always amazed at the melodic richness.
Franz Lehár is still the best known name in the business and with good reason. He churned out one memorable tune after another and Land des Lächelns is especially memorable. In retrospect the score in this DVD is rather faithfully respected, though there are two barbaric cuts (only half of “Bei einem Tee à deux” and “Es ist nicht das erste Mal”). As the producer had engaged the Korean Court Ballet, one had to find employ for these girls and some probably authentic Korean music is inserted into Lehár’s score which makes twice for a rather distorting effect during the performance.
One is grateful that at least the singers act their parts themselves. René Kollo is a convincing and restrained Sou-Chong who sings better than I remember from memory when I watched the broadcast some 30 years ago. Kollo, the son and grandson of popular operetta composers, could probably already sing the score back to front at the time of the recording though he would wait till he was almost 60 (in 1996) before he played the role in the theatre. (Incidentally, his memoirs “Die Kunst, das Leben” are among the most brutally honest I have ever read and they really deserve translation.) At the time of the recording the 36-year old tenor already had numerous Parsifals, Eriks and even Walters von Stolzing under his belt; but the sound is clear, pure and beautiful. He knows how to make a pianissimo and he is superb after the break with his Western wife. Kollo never was a king of the high C and the voice thickens somewhat in the high register and he cuts notes short when the score goes too high. What is lacking most is charm, sweetness and a kind of freedom with the score that Tauber brought to it.
The echt -Wienerische operetta diva, Birgit Sarata, is Lisa. At the time it was still possible to be a stunning blonde, concentrate a career on operetta and have a voice as well. It is a rather small not unattractive soprano, becoming a little bit shrill above the stave.
Dagmar Koller is the fine spirited Mi, proving she once was a dancer and showing a lot of legs though one can hardly take her serious as an Asian princess. Most non-Europeans will know her name as the partner on recordings of Lehár’s Zarewitsch and Land des Lächelns with Giuseppe Di Stefano.
Heinz Zednik is a far better than average Gustl. Of course he cannot compete with Erich Kunz on the first EMI-recording but he really sings the role which is often more or less voicelessly said by so-called buffo’s in other recordings. As this is not a theatre production there is a slight though clearly noticeable synchronic difference. The picture quality is good for the times.
If you don’t know the original version you won’t be disturbed by some of the director’s many alterations. Indeed I admit that a lot of them make sense —decisions I utterly and somewhat unjustly rejected so many years ago. He has lifted the action out of China which is acceptable as the original writers still thought China was a Buddhist country which it isn’t. But I still don’t like the transposition towards the imaginary island of Buratonga. As a consequence the phrase “wir Chinezen” in Sou-Chongs first aria “Immer nur Lächeln” becomes the somewhat ridiculous “wir Asiaten”. And in the same number Sou-Chong no longer thinks that Lisa is intoxicating “wie Hasjisj”. Princess Mi doesn’t make her appearance in the second act as in the original but is already match-making for her brother in the first act and this makes her short affair with Gustl far more believable as both youngsters already know each other when they once more meet in ….well Buratonga.
The idea of having Sou-Chong recalled from Vienna to quell an uprising and succeeding his murdered brother is a good one, better than the original too where he becomes prime-minister. Therefore I was disillusioned that in the second act one of the most original and most impressive scenes is simply deleted. Though the music is mostly kept in place it only serves to show us the return of Lisa to her husband after a trip to the mountains. Originally this is where the ceremony of “Die Gelbe Jacke” (the yellow coat) takes place; the handing over of the coat as a symbol of the office and the original title of the first version of the operetta before Lehár reworked it for Tauber. A symbolic coat suits a hereditary ruler far better than a prime-minister and I sorely miss the combination of impressive music and the original idea.
In this version under review Sou-Chong and Lisa are at least married and are even somewhat desperate they are still childless after one year and this too is a dramatic improvement on many earlier versions. In the Tauber-movie the Chinese prince meets Lisa and they both go to see the operetta that proves that East and West will never meet. So they decide that marriage is not for them. Thus, a short marriage (and the implicit idea of sex) and an irregular divorce —things that could hurt the sensitivities of the public in the thirties — were avoided. All in all, this German TV-production is quite an acceptable proposal for those who want to hear and see one of Lehár’s masterpieces. For those who prefer to be their own directors and can substitute the soundtrack, Tauber’s movie is indispensable.
Jan Neckers