Fernando Guimarães Ulisse, Jennifer Rivera Penelope, Aaron Sheehan Telemaco, Leah Wool Minerva, João Fernandes Il Tempo & Nettuno, Owen McIntosh Giove, Sonja DuToit Tengblad La Fortuna & Giunone, Krista River Ericlea, Abigail Nims Melanto, Daniel Shirley Eurimaco, Daniel Auchincloss Eumete, Marc Molomot Ino, Christopher Lowrey L’Humana Fragilità, Sara Heaton Amore, Boston Baroque, Martin Pearlman
176:00 (2 CDs)
Linn Classics CKD 451
[dropcap]L[/dropcap]ong a Mecca for aficionados of Baroque opera, particularly those who object to the vulgarity of many of today’s stage productions, the Beaune Festival now has behind it more than three decades of presenting concert performances given by some of the finest singers and directors in the field. Traditionally one of the special features has been the open-air presentation of opera in the exquisite arcaded cour of the 15th century Hospices de Beaune. But change seems to be afoot. The 2015 season presented only two works that could be described as operas, Lully’s Armide and Purcell’s ‘semi-opera’ King Arthur, the remaining large-scale events consisting principally of oratorios or other sacred works given in the Basilique Notre-Dame.
Along with King Arthur (reviewed elsewhere), we attended two oratorio performances: Handel’s Jephtha with the Namur Chamber Choir and Accademia Bizantina under the direction of Ottavio Dantone (17 July), and the first modern performance of Porpora’s Il trionfo della Divina Giustizia (24 July), given under the direction of Thibault Noally.
In Britain we tend to take a proprietary view of Handel’s oratorios, so the chance of hearing the last – and arguably greatest – of them conducted by a leading Italian early music director was an intriguing prospect. I have to confess that Dantone has not always been a favourite conductor, some of his performances seeming to me too mannered and lightweight. Here such concerns were immediately swept away by Dantone’s fervour and the depth of string tone produced by Accademia Bizantina, whose playing was on the highest level throughout. Such impressions were enhanced by the commanding presence and authority of bass Christian Immler in Zebul’s opening recitative and aria ‘No more to Ammon’s god’ and further confirmed by the commitment, power and articulation of the excellent Namur choir. The love scenes between Hamor (alto Delphine Galou) and Iphis (soprano Katherine Watson), were done with an exquisite Italianate warmth and sensual affection that made their final parting a more central and poignant part of the denouement than usual. The duet ‘These labours past’ became a glorious poem to love. In her later affliction Watson was deeply affecting in her song of parting, ‘Farewell, ye limpid streams’, sung with the pellucid grace Watson brought to all Iphis’ music. The young Swedish tenor Martin Vanberg sang stylishly as Jephtha without ever attaining the tortured dramatic intensity of the finest interpreters of the role. His ‘Open thy marble jaws’ never quite conveyed the horror of the moment, although ‘Waft her, angels’ attained a gracious lyricism. His wife Storgè was Gaëlle Arquez, a Beaune protégée I’ve kept a close watch on since she first appeared as a soprano in 2011. Since then she has moved down to mezzo parts and indeed her Storgè included some impressive chest notes of true alto quality, ‘Let other creatures die?’ directed at her husband with venomous fury. Caroline Weynants’ Angel deserves special mention for a thoroughly appealing ‘Happy, Iphis’, while the final scene was in part redeemed from its usual sense of anti-climax by the lovingly expressed exchanges in the duet between Iphis and Hamor. It remains only to add that in a cast with only one native English speaker, diction and pronunciation were in the main unexceptionable.
Virtually the whole festival took place during the remarkable heat wave experienced by much of central and southern France during July. It made for uncomfortable conditions in the basilica for both performers and audience. In the case of the latter it also brought out numerous examples of that irritating species, the fan waver. At the Porpora I had the misfortune to sit behind a particularly exotic member of the breed, a lady who seemed quite oblivious that her unceasing activity might just have been a distraction to those around her. That aside, however, this was another unusually satisfying and rewarding evening. Il trionfo della Divina Giustizia is one of Nicolo Porpora’s earlier works, first given in April 1716 in San Luigi di Palazzo in Naples. Scored for strings and four solo singers, whose roles are those of the Virgin (Delphine Galou), the allegorical figure Giustizia Divina (mezzo Blandine Staskiewicz), Mary Magdelene (soprano Emmanuelle de Negri) and St John (Martin Vanberg), the oratorio is an examination of the emotions of the protagonists in the aftermath of the Crucifixion. The anonymous libretto inspired the 30-year-old Porpora to a score suffused with pain and anger, expressed in music of intense chromaticism and dissonance. Among many notable numbers I would note especially the madrigalian quartet set over a running bass that concludes Part 1, the wonderful flowing duet for the Virgin and Giustizia that opens Part 2, and, perhaps above all, ‘Occhi mesti’, the final aria for the Virgin, where upper strings senza basso attain a rapt, chromatic intensity over the mother’s near inexpressible grief. The role brought more supremely accomplished singing from Galou, but overall both singing and playing would have benefited from rather fewer broad brushstrokes and a more subtle sense of light and shade. Nonetheless, I’m more than happy to have made the acquaintance of yet another outstanding work by this Neapolitan master in such a good performance.
Antonio Giovannini Rinaldo, Gesche Geier Armida, Marie Friederike Schöder Almirena, Florian Götz Argante, Yosemeh Adjei Goffredo, Owen Willetts Eustazio, Cornelius Uhle Mago cristiano, Compagnia Marionettistica Carlo Colla & Figli, Lautten Compagney Berlin, Wolfgang Katschner
DVD of the puppet action (137’+10′)
Audio recording (2 CDs)
Arthaus Musik 102207
[dropcap]A[/dropcap] charming and, as far as I am aware, unique recording of Handel’s London debut opera with marionettes, and – better still – a real attempt at Baroque staging. As the excellent sleeve notes explain, marionette performances of opera have a long and distinguished history- and with a production as good as this, one can understand their attraction. Visually, it is a delight- the costumes are suitably sumptuous, and the sets absolutely terrific. Armida arrives, as advertised, in her dragon-drawn chariot, and Almirena gets abducted by a deliciously evil-looking spirit. I particularly liked the seascape at the beginning of Act 2, with the seductive sirens swimming to and fro, and the equally charming garden with Almirena and assorted Birds in Act 1. Scene changes are instantaneous, as they should be, so that Handel’s dramatic key shifts- eg where Rinaldo surprises Armida in Act 2- have their proper effect. Armida’s transformations into Almirena, later in the same act, are beautifully realised- especially when she catches Argante out as he woos the wrong lady! The later scenes of Act 3, with the march-pasts of the rival Christian and Moorish armies, Rinaldo’s bravura ‘Or La Tromba’ and the subsequent ‘battaglia’ are splendidly dramatic, and Handel’s four trumpets and drums make their presence well felt.
Musically, it is a strong performance. Antonio Giovannini is a heroic Rinaldo – his Act 2 ‘Abbruccio, Avvampo” is especially thrillingly done, and ‘Cara Sposa’ in Act 1, after Almirena’s abduction, is hauntingly lovely. Gesche Geier, as Armida, is fire-spittingly good in her opening ‘Furie Terribili’, and wrings the heart in her Act 2 ‘Ah, Crudel’, with its plangent oboe and bassoon obbligati. Marie Friederike Schoder’s virtuous Almirena is a fine contrast- her Act 2 ‘Lascia, ch’io pianga’ is mesmerising. Florian Gotz as Argante blazes in in Act 1 with ‘Sibillar gli angui d’Aletto’, and is a fine foil for Armida in their Act 2 duet. Yosemeh Adjei (Goffredo) and Owen Willetts (Eustazio) prove musically muscular Christians, and Cornelius Uhle is a sonorous Mago. Schroder and Geier also double as the Sirens in Act 2- I don’t think I’ve ever heard their delicious ‘Il vostro maggio’ better done. Wolfgang Katschner’s tempi feel exactly right, and the band follow his energetic conducting with absolute confidence.
There are a few caveats. Most musically serious is the frequent truncation of da capo arias – ‘a’ section, ‘b’ section, then merely the ritornello of the ‘a’ section. The orchestration is tinkered with from time to time, e. g., recorders are used in the gigue of the overture, which rather spoils their surprise appearance in ‘Augeletti’ later on; there is also liberal addition of tambourine and castanets. The filming occasionally feels disjointed – there are frequent shot-shifts between the marionette onstage, the “real” singer backstage and the orchestra or conductor. A couple of times the stage business (eg during the Battle in Act 3) is filmed as if from the puppeteers bridge, which spoils the ‘full frontal’ Baroque effect.
Overall, however, this is a fine achievement, both musically and visually. It would be fascinating to see further operas done so – imagine ‘Orlando’ or ‘Alcina’ with similar staging!
Mary-Ellen Nesi Farnace, Sonia Prina Tamiri, Roberta Mameli Gilade, Delphine Galou Berenice, Loriana Castellano Selinda, Magnus Staveland Aquilio, Emanuele D’Aguanno Pompeo, Orchestra of the Maggio Musicale Fiorentino, Federico Maria Sardelli
151′ (2 DVDs)
Dynamic 37670
[dropcap]F[/dropcap]arnace was first performed at the Teatro S Angelo in Venice in February 1727 and frequently thereafter in other cities. The plot of the libretto by A M Luccini is a sequel to the story of the struggle of Mitridate, king of the Hellenic kingdom of Pontus, against Roman occupation. That struggle has now been taken up by Farnace, his elder son, who like his father has problems with an enemy within. Berenice, the mother of his wife Tamiri, is a Roman sympathiser seeking the destruction of Pontus and its rulers as revenge for her husband’s earlier death at the hands of Mitridate. It’s a plot that allows not only for political and amorous intrigue, but also sly digs at Roman imperialism, always a popular topic with Venetian audiences.
The present DVDs were filmed at performances at the Teatro del Maggio Musicale in Florence in May 2013. They represent yet another depressing episode in the dismal failure of attempts to mount opera seria on the contemporary stage. The performance employs what is laughingly touted by Dynamic as a ‘critical edition’ by Bernardo Ticci. Googling ‘Farnace Ticci’ produces the rather more accurate description ‘arr. B Ticci’. Suspicions are immediately aroused by the discovery that Ticci’s edition is cast in two, not the standard three acts, a format never used by drammi per musica (opera seria). Comparison with the original 1727 libretto reveals that not only has there been a reduction from 27 to 23 numbers, but that after the first few numbers of act 1, what is performed bears no relationship to the libretto or indeed to that of the 1737 version recorded by Jordi Savall. Most damaging of all, Ticci contrives a spurious tragic conclusion by having Farnace sing ‘Gelido in ogni vena’, an aria from later versions of act 2 in which he laments the supposed death of his young son at the hands of Berenice. Since we have no evidence the child is dead (he certainly isn’t in the original libretto), the whole farrago of nonsense strikes an utterly false note. I strongly suspect, too, that there has been considerable tampering with the orchestration, though have not been able to find a score on-line to check.
The production is little better, dark and dismal in the literal sense, with stark post-modernist tubular erections at various angles supplemented by various oddities such as what look like upright florescent tubes and, at one point, an array of illuminated doughnuts. An apron, on which a number of arias are sung, is built out from the stage around the orchestra. Most extraordinary of all is that almost all arias are sung at music stands in the fashion of a concert performance. Whether this is supposed to be some kind of observation that the arias in opera seria are a static form, I have no idea, but it looks absurd when done in a fully staged production. It does, however, have one advantage, which is that there is therefore mercifully no stage ‘business’ during arias. Costumes are largely dowdy but serviceable, with the Romans distinguished from the locals by their wearing of breastplates, though to comical effect by the proconsul Pompeo and legionary Aquilio, both of whom for some bizarre reason wear a dinner jacket over their breastplate.
It is sad (and not to his credit) to find one of the finest of today’s Vivaldi conductors involved with such fatuous stuff. Federico Maria Sardelli’s direction has all the drive and intensity we have come to expect from him in the composer’s music, although even he cannot disguise the patently obvious modern instruments of a large contingent of Maggio Musicale strings. The cast, including some outstanding Baroque singers as it does, deserves better than this miserable effort. I except the tenors who sing the roles of Aquilio and Pompeo; their contribution is best passed over in polite silence. Mary-Ellen Nesi is a strong, incisive Farnace, pursuing the mental cruelty to which he subjects his long-suffering wife with relentless ferocity, though the voice does sound as if it is being pushed at times. Sonia Prina is a splendid Tamiri, resolute in the face of the threat to her young son, deeply affecting when she believes she has lost him. Among the most telling moments are the confrontations with her mother Berenice, superbly sung and acted by the French mezzo Delphine Galou, the only one of the cast who suggests she understands gesture. Loriana Castellano’s Selinda, the sister of Farnace, is capably sung, but while Roberta Mameli sings stylishly and winningly, her Gilade is marred by some undisciplined singing in the upper register.
Vivaldi may not be among the best Baroque opera composers – his output is today overrated in my view – but Farnace is one of his better operas. It certainly deserves much better than it gets here.
Vivica Genaux Dido, Henk Neven Aeneas, Ana Quintans Belinda, Marc Mauillon Sorceress/Sailor, Le Poème Harmonique, Chœur Accentus /Opéra de Rouen Haute-Normandie, Vincent Dumestre
80′ (1 DVD)
Alpha 706
[dropcap]‘[/dropcap]Dido-on-Sea’? Or ‘Dido and Aeneas go to the Circus’? Whatever construct is put on this conception it will hardly be sufficient to convey just how bizarre it is. Where to start? Well, as is not uncommon in these benighted days, the stage directions are largely ignored. At no time are we ever in Dido’s Palace (act 1), a Cave (act 2/1), or a Grove (act 2/2). Only in act 3 do we have some semblance of place, where we see the prow of a ship. Otherwise we are located on a rocky seashore, which makes something of a nonsense of Belinda’s ‘Thanks to these lonesome vales’, among much else. The dances are largely given over to a troupe of acrobats, whose performances both aerial and earthbound are described in an astonishingly pretentious – and in places inaccurate – note by Vincent Dumestre as being ‘sometimes the protagonist’s projections’, while at other times ‘allegories of the characters described in the songs of the chorus’ (which performs throughout off-stage). Most notably, in the Cave scene they are slithery, writhing sea creatures, the accessories of a (male) Sorceress who is … wait for it … an octopus with a rather nasty bump protruding from the back of her/his head. Really. Otherwise the costumes in what is a quasi-period production are odd – Dido wears striped pantaloons under her gown, while Aeneas looks like Trapper John, the fur round his neck hardly compatible with his location in North African desert territory.
It would be pleasing to report that it was a relief to turn to the music. But it is no such thing. Dumestre has seen fit not only to flesh out the scoring with an utterly anachronistic continuo group including a harp, guitars, theorbos, but also – and equally anachronistically – an orchestra that includes recorders, oboes and bassoons. The effect of the plucked arpeggiations and pretty ornaments in such numbers as the Ritornelle that opens act 2 is about as inimical to Purcellian style as it is possible to imagine. While there is certainly room for improvisation in the Dido dances, Dumestre’s owes far more to his mistaken belief in the influence of Lully on the score. As Richard Luckett pointed out all those years ago in his notes for the famous Andrew Parrott Chandos recording, the musical accent of the opera is – aside from the overture and a few dances – not at all Lullian, but cast in Purcell’s wholly distinctive style. It is this aspect of Dido that Dumestre and his performers have fatally missed. Not one of the cast display real comprehension of either the linguistic or musical syntax. Vivica Genaux’s Dido is especially disappointing, the voice marred by obtrusive vibrato and even pitch problems, while at times taking on a curiously plummy quality. Her Dutch Aeneas is better, but ultimately, well, the Aeneas we all love to despise and his inability to articulate ornamental phrases cleanly is another disadvantage he shares with the Belinda.
Vincent Dumestre is a director for whom I have great respect for the many outstanding things he has done on record, not least the marvellous DVDs of Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. But I fear here he is way out of his comfort territory. And I say that not because he is French; it is perfectly possible for non-English musicians to give convincing, moving performances of Purcell’s operatic masterpiece, witness that given last year in Bruges by the Italian Fabio Bonizzoni with a Spanish Dido. The film emanates from performances given at the Rouen Opera in 2014.
Juan Sancho Catone, Franco Fagioli Cesare, Valer Sabadus Marzia, Max Emanuel Cencic Arbace, Vince Yi Emilia, Martin Mitterrutzner Fulvio, Il pomo d’oro, Riccardo Minasi
233:42 (3 CDs)
Decca 478 8194
[dropcap]F[/dropcap]irst given in Rome at the Teatro delle Dame in January 1728, Catone in Utica was the first collaboration between Leonardo Vinci and Metastasio. In accordance with the Papal decree forbidding women on the Roman opera stage, it was given with an all-male cast, a format followed in this first recording, with countertenors taking the female parts. To those familiar with Handel’s operas, the libretto may seem excessively lengthy, with much longer stretches of secco recitative than London audiences were prepared to take. For anyone prepared to remember that in the 17th and for much of the 18th century the librettist took precedence over the composer, a reading of Metastasio’s masterly book as literature will prove rewarding. It tells of the power struggle between two giants of the Roman world, the dictator Julius Caesar (Cesare) and Cato the Younger (Catone), the upholder of traditional republican ideals.
This battle of political wills forms the backdrop to the military action in which Cesare and Catone are engaged. Within this context the love interest for once takes on a background role, though it remains as complex as ever. It involves primarily the love between Catone’s daughter Marzia and Cesare, revelation of which not surprisingly leads to rejection by her father, a heroic man whose stubborn pride is his Achilles heel. Catone’s ally, the Numidian prince Arbace, also loves Marzia, while a secondary couple is formed by Pompey’s widow Emilia and the Roman legate Fulvia, though Emilia is rather more interested in revenge on Cesare than romance. The denouement is unusual, with the defeated Cato dying on stage after stabbing himself and Cesare lamenting the loss of his one-time friend in a final few lines of plain recitative. It was a genuinely tragic denouement that did not go down well with Roman critics; Metastasio, ever sensitive to criticism, subsequently produced a second, less austere ending used by most composers who later set the libretto.
Vinci’s score is richly orchestrated for pairs of oboes and horns, trumpet, the usual strings and continuo, here including theorbo and guitar, neither to the best of my knowledge listed in any early 18th-century Italian theatre orchestra. Equally anachronistic are the timpani added – excessively noisily – to the overture and Cesare’s ‘Se in campo’ (act 2); I’ve become increasingly irritated by so-called HIP conductors (usually Italian) who see fit to add timpani as soon as they catch a whiff of a trumpet part.
While not without weaker moments (mostly in act 2), the arias maintain a high level of interest and variation. Vinci takes particular care to show both sides of Cesare’s character, the tenderness he displays toward the grieving Emilia and his love for Marzia in two gracious cantabile arias in act 1 contrasted strongly with the martial coloratura of ‘Se il campo’ and the ‘simile’ aria ‘Soffre talor’ (both act 2). The role is sung and projected by Franco Fagioli with real distinction, the beauty of his cantabile matched by the accuracy of his divisions, impressive chest notes and accomplished ornamentation, including trills. Even better are the superb arias Vinci provided for the proud Catone, a tenor role here well essayed by Juan Sancho with strongly confident singing and a fine technique tested to his detriment only when he asks too much of himself by over-elaborating da capo repeats. Especially memorable is his furious dismissal of the Roman legate Fulvio, ‘Va, ritorno’ (act 2), the orchestral contrapuntal chromaticism underpinning a magnificent display of defiance. Cato’s daughter Marzia also displays distinctively contrasting character traits, haughtily dismissive toward her would-be admirer Arbace while fiercely guarding her love for Caesar and concern for her father. Valer Sadabus’ singing of the role is marred only by an occasional lack of control. Max Emanuel Cencic’s Arbace, a weak character in the face of Marzia’s strong personality, is sung with his customary authority and tonal beauty, the pain of the intensely chromatic act 2 aria ‘Che sia la gelosia’ touchingly conveyed by Cencic’s finely poised singing. Emilia is a less rounded figure, driven by her hatred of Caesar, who she blames for her husband’s murder, the story of which she recounts in a dramatic accompagnato, one of such passages unexpectedly encountered in a opera of this date. Vince Yi’s distinctive – and here at least very feminine sounding – timbre allied to a highly accomplished technique is ideally suited to the role, while her admirer Fulvio is sung with real style by the young German tenor Martin Mitterrutzner; his love-sick ‘simile’ aria ‘Piangendo ancora’ (act 1) has a text whose beauty is matched by Vinci’s exquisite music.
If the vocal contribution maintains a generally high level, Riccardo Minasi’s direction begs a number of question marks. While the playing he draws from his Pomo d’Oro maintains throughout an admirable level of fiery dramatic conviction in allegros and Italianate lyricism in andantes, it is regrettably also prone to the kind of foibles frequently encountered among Italian early music groups. They include eccentric exaggeration of tempo, rhythm, and dynamics, apparent here on rather too many occasions. An especially bizarre example can be heard in the triple chord bass figure in Arbace’s ‘È in ogni’ (act I). Despite such reservations, there is no doubting this is a highly significant and important release that casts fresh light on Vinci’s standing as one of the major figures in earlier 18th-century opera.
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is a re-packaging of a popular staging of Orfeo which previously appeared as an opusArte DVD, and which I saw at the Edinburgh Festival (with a slightly different cast) a few years ago. Savall swept into the auditorium with a flowing black gown (looking for all the world like Professor Snape on a mission) and the music burst forth. The singing and playing is of a very high standard, although liberties have been taken with Monteverdi’s scoring instructions; you would think that when a composer indicates that certain music should be played by recorders, he would also note the other music he wants them to join in with… I was disappointed in the long dancing and singing shepherds scene that there appeared to be no discerible metric relationship between the sections, and that they did not seem quite to flow from one into the other. That said, there was plenty of drama in other portions of the work, and Zanasi’s “Possente spirto” was a real tour de force. The book (there’s no way if could be described as a booklet!) has lavish illustrations from the production and facsimiles of the score, as well as seven versions of the text (Catalan, Spanish and Dutch added to the usual suspects) and the now familiar biographies and discography. There are also two interesting essays, a synopsis and and introduction by the conductor. I cannot imagine why one would choose to own this rather than the DVD other than to have this book – the price is such that one can possibly afford to own both.
Véronique Gens Niobe, Jacek Laszczkowski Anfione, Iestyn Davies Creonte, Alastair Miles Poliferno, Delphine Galou Nerea, Lothar Odinius Tiberino, Amanda Forsythe Manto, Bruno Taddia Tiresia, Tim Mead Clearte, Balthasar-Neumann-Ensemble, Thomas Hengelbrock
167:18 (3 CDs)
Opus Arte OA CD9008D
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is a recording of the recent Covent Garden production, directed by Lukas Hemleb. With an excellent team of soloists and the fine Balthasar-Neumann-Ensemble, under Thomas Hengelbrock’s reliable baton, this ought to have been a winner. As one would expect, there is some extremely fine singing. Véronique Gens is a wonderful Niobe, moving with complete assurance from her initial imperious confidence to the utter desolation of the final act, where she witnesses the deaths of her husband and children and is herself turned to stone. Iestyn Davies is a similarly subtle Creonte. His ‘Lascio l’armi e cedo il campo’ in Act 2 is thrillingly done, and his trumpet-and-drum accompanied ‘Di palmi e d’allori’ brings the opera to a rousing conclusion. Lothar Odinius and Amanda Forsythe, as Tiberino and Manto, respectively, make a finely matched pair of young lovers. Bruno Taddia is suitably solemn as Tiresia, Manto’s father. Alastair Miles makes a sonorous Poliferno, almost overwhelming the band in his Act 2 ‘Numi tartarei’. Tim Meade (Clearte) rises nobly to his tragic accompagnato in Act 3, as he witnesses the deaths of Niobe’s sons. Delphine Galou is absolutely perfect as the nurse Nerea; her witty commentaries on the foibles of her ‘betters’ (e. g., the final aria of Act 2) are highlights of the recording. About Jacek Laszczkowski’s Anfione, I am less sure. The part was probably written for the castrato Clementin Hader and Steffani has given him some terrific music, much of it in up-to-the-minute fully accompanied da capo style. He has the pearl of the score, the glorious ‘Sfere Amiche’ in Act 1, sung in the Palace of Harmony, with a stage band in addition to the orchestra in the pit. Although possessing a formidable technique, and wondrous tone, Laszczkowski sometimes sounds slightly under the note, and his da capo decorations can be inventive, to say the least (e. g., in ‘Ascendo alle stelle’ in Act 2.) His virtuoso ‘Tra bellici carmi’ in Act 2 is absolutely first class, however.
The overall production is variable. There is a good deal of extraneous stage noise (poor Tiresias’s graphic mugging at the beginning of Act 2 seems to go on forever!) The score has been significantly cut, losing some arias and ballet music, and the scoring occasionally tweaked, with much organ continuo and some additional percussion.
Colin Timm’s scholarly sleeve notes, however, are superb, fully illustrating the exceptional nature of Steffani’s great opera.
Ann Hallenberg S, Il Pomo d’Oro, Riccardo Minasi
74:34
deutsche harmonia mundi 88875053982
Arias by K. H. Graun, Handel, Legrenzi, Magni, Mattheson, Orlandini, Perti, Porpora, G. B. Sammartini & Telemann
This is a delectable disc.
Ann Hallenberg has a tremendous technique and a fine eye for unusual repertoire (her 2012 Hidden Handel disc with Alan Curtis is a particular personal favourite). This time we have an extremely clever selection of operatic arias written around the formidable characters of Agrippina and her eponymous sister and daughter, none of whom one would care to meet on a dark night in the Forum!
The music ranges from late 17th-century continuo accompanied Legrenzi to galant Graun – the second of whose arias, “Mi paventi il figlio indegno”, is a real show-stopper, with blazing brass and an absolutely breathtaking display of perfectly-even coloratura, as Agrippina heaps scorn on her unworthy son. Other highlights include some delicate bel canto from Porpora, and Sammartini’s dramatic “Deh, lasciami in pace” with its B-section closely following the text’s contrasting affects.
The centrepieces of the recording, however, both physically and musically, are the three Handel excerpts. Hearing them in this context, one is forcibly struck (as were the Venetian audiences of 1709) by their astonishing originality and dramatic power. “Pensieri”, with its jagged unison strings and keening solo oboe, still chills to the marrow – notice how its third and final refrain is condensed and concentrated as Agrippina makes up her mind. And who could resist the foot-tapping rhythm of “Ogni venti” or the catchy melody of “L’alma mia”?
Minasi and Il Pomo d’Oro provide splendidly spirited accompaniments, though a couple more upper strings would have been even better- they are sometimes a little outshone by the brass!
Alastair Harper
[wp-review]
Alastair added re: performance: “would have been 5 with more strings!”
Colin Ainsworth Castor, Florian Sempey Pollux, Emmanuelle de Negri Télaire, Clémentine Margaine Phébé, Christian Immler Jupiter, Sabine Deveilhe Cléone, Philippe Talbot un athlète, Virgile Ancely le grand prêtre, Ensemble Pygmalion, Raphaël Pichon
139:31
harmonia mundi HMC 902212.13
[dropcap]A[/dropcap]s with Mozart, so with Rameau. When you’ve heard several operas (or even the same one several times) it’s easy to forget how brilliant they are. However, this recording offers a stimulus for renewed admiration by using the 1754 re-working of the 1737 original, apparently with the benefit of ‘recently discovered’ manuscript material. I must say that I do prefer this – shorn of the prologue, much recitative and with arguably a clearer and tauter storyline. And the music is sublime – noble, jaunty or outright jolly as required and sometimes spectacular: try the Athlete’s air (CD1 track 25). The booklet (Fr/Eng/Ger) offers an essay that explains the context of the 1754 version, a synopsis and full text/translation cued to the track list and the performance does not disappoint with both singers and players finding inspiration in Rameau’s genius. Yes, there’s occasionally an excess of vibrato or percussion but a non-reviewer might not even notice, such is the general sweep of the action, and the general standard, especially for a live recording, is remarkably good. I just wish it were a DVD of a staged performance. For that you need the Christophe Rousset account but be warned – the production will definitely not be to all tastes.
disc with Alan Curtis is a particular personal favourite). This time we have an extremely clever selection of operatic arias written around the formidable characters of Agrippina and her eponymous sister and daughter, none of whom one would care to meet on a dark night in the Forum!