29 Apr 2006
PONCHIELLI: I Lituani
Why would anyone want to replace his LP-version on MRF? Because his records are scratched and it is too much trouble to put everything on CD.
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.
Since his debut at the Metropolitan Opera in 1971, conductor James Levine has come to represent the house’s commitment to artistic excellence — reliable, professional, and immaculately presented.
Why would anyone want to replace his LP-version on MRF? Because his records are scratched and it is too much trouble to put everything on CD.
But why would anyone want to replace his CD’s on LO taken from this same performance? Just play the prologue and the answer is right there. The LO CD’s originated with an excellently taped radio broadcast. This new Bongiovanni-issue uses the original RAI-tapes and I am still surprised at the difference in sonics. The sound picture is so much clearer, so much more incisive and this results in more than just sound. I’ve never had problems with complete recordings of the early electric age like Pampanini’s, Arangi-Lombardi’s, Merli’s or Pertile’s complete sets; but these were always recordings of bread and butter operas that I already knew by heart the moment the historical recordings entered my home. This I Lituani is different. Apart from a few historical shellac solos, I knew nothing of the opera when I purchased the LO version some ten years ago in Boston. I played it several times and enjoyed it, though considering it more or less a first attempt that would finally result in the beauties of La Gioconda that premièred two years later (and which I’ll finally see once again in the Walloon opera, 26 years later after a Ghent performance). Lituani seemed to be well-crafted music but not much more than that. Ponchielli’s melodic genius clearly had to mature a few extra years. A recording in perfect sound changed my perception. The composer was 39 when I Lituani premièred in 1874 and he clearly already knew how to write a good tune. Granted there is no aria worthy of “Cielo e mar” or a ballet like the Dance of the Hours (but which other opera has a ballet on this level of inspiration?). Yet, there is more than just a generalized humming possibility, especially some of the many choruses, which are just as fine, if not better, than in Gioconda.
The cast has some strong singers. Baritone Alessandro Cassis will be a name that only vaguely rings a bell, though he is in several important productions like the French Jérusalem (Carreras, Ricciarelli), the Boito Nerone or the Adriana Lecouvreur DVD from La Scala with Freni. Cassis had quite a career, though he mostly limited his appearances to the Italian peninsula, singing in all important houses while in the summer he was busy in Verona and Caracalla. The sound is noble and has the burnished brown of the real Italian baritone. Indeed he maybe is the nearest thing to Bastianini I have heard; and it says a lot on the decline of Italy and the reputation of its singers in the operatic world that he is not better known.
Next comes Yasuko Hayashi. An earlier generation would maybe have Italianized her name but it is always something of a surprise to hear this lirico-spinto. She could be any good Italian singer as the technique is fine, the voice sounds appropriately Italian and she knows how to ride an orchestral climax. If one didn’t know better, she could easily be taken for one of those fine Italian sopranos that still abounded at that time—someone like Rita Orlandi, Luisa Maragliano or Orianna Santunione—honest artists with good vocal endowments maybe just lacking a very personal and intrinsic beautiful sound.
Bass Carlo De Bortoli brings an appropriate black voice and years of experience with Verdi roles to his part.
There remains the problem of the title role. Now Ottavio Garaventa is something of a case. He started out as a baritone singing as Silvio in the same Pagliacci that saw the début of Bruno Prevedi, not as Canio but as Tonio. Garaventa later promoted himself to lyric tenor. I heard him a few times and I cannot say I was very impressed. It was straight singing without much insight or musical phrasing. Moreover, I thought the voice made a finer (and especially a bigger) impression on record than in the flesh, where it sounded more tight and squeezed. He did make the rounds of Italy and some European and South American theatres; but contrary to what is said on his live solo album, he never made it to the Met and for good reason. When this recording was made he had been singing for 24 years. The voice sounds clearly more robust but thicker as well; and the finer qualities of the timbre are less noticeable. What is especially galling is this insouciant singing of notes without any attempt to use some dynamics or to phrase. As a result his brindisi and his romanza go for nothing; and one is sure that even an older Bergonzi would have made so much more of this music such that one would immediately have grasped its tunefulness. A pity, as Gianandrea Gavazzeni was not a conductor who would throw away his gifts on an unimportant score. The way he sculpts the many choral moments and the concertati (already a Ponchielli feature) proves that he believed in a revival of the opera.
Another advantage of this recording is the libretto in Italian and English—LO has Italian only—with a fine introductory article by Fernando Battaglia. Any opera lover of the ottocento who has become somewhat tired of his too well-known Verdi recordings should not hesitate to buy this set.
Jan Neckers