Tag: Opera

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.

Brian Robins

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*Brian allocated 4 stars for the singing and 3.5 stars for the orchestral playing.

Monserrat Figueras La Musica, Furio Zanasi Orfeo, Arianna Savall Euridice, Sara Mingardo Messaggiera, Cécile van de Sant Speranza, Antonio Abete Caronte, Adriana Fernández Proserpina, Daniele Carnovich Plutone, Fulvio Bettini Apollo, Mercedes Hernández Ninfa, Marilia Vargas Ninfa, Gerd Türk Pastore & Eco, Francesc Garrigosa Pastore & Spirito, Carlos Mena Pastore, Iván Garcia Pastore & Spirito, La Sapella Reial de Catalunya, Le Concert des Nations, Jordi Savall
114:09 (2 CDs)
Alia vox AVSA9911
© 2002 (Live performance)

[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.

Brian Clark

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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.

Alastair Harper

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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

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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.

David Hansell

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Sandrine Piau L’Armonia Martin Oro Ormindo Howard Crook Amida, Dominique Visse Nerillo, Magali Léger Sicle, Jean-François Lombard Erice, Stéphanie Révidat Erisbe, Karine Deshayes Mirinda, Jacques Bona Hariadeno, Benoit Arnould Osmano
131:10 (2 CDs)
Pan Classics PC 10330 (© 2006)

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]here is a dearth of recordings of L’Ormindo, only this version recorded in 2006 and the old Raymond Leppard Glyndebourne arrangement dating from 1967. Perhaps the success of the staging of the Royal Opera’s English language version under Christian Curnyn at the Globe has encouraged the publishers?

This is quite a stylish performance, recorded in Paris in 2006, and I believe released originally on Pan; downloads from this are still available and feature Sandrine Piau prominently on the sales pitch, who however only sings the much-ornamented Prologo as Harmonia. The continuo group including an organ, two harpsichords, just one chittarone, harp and guitar provide a varied texture in the narrative exchanges; and two violins, two violas da gamba and a violone form the five part ritornelli. The clefs for the middle parts in the score are alto and tenor, and Monteverdi normally calls for viole da brazzo: are gambas right here? Sometimes the score provides worked-out ritornelli in the arias, but occasionally I hear the strings ‘improvising’ with the singers – a euphemism for being written in to the score Leppard-style where there are some blank staves from time to time. This and a number of cuts make it hard to follow in the on-line facsimile available from the Biblioteca Marciana in Venice. The timing of the BBCs Globe broadcast runs to 180:15, while these two CDs last for 131:10. No details of the performing edition – how it was created, who edited it, what editorial principles were used, how decisions were made – are recorded in the liner notes, which are slender in the extreme and largely taken up with introducing the listener to the complex plot. There is nothing about the performers, or the circumstances of the recording in Paris in June 2006. As the only recording with any gesture towards HIP, this is disappointing.

Among the singers, Dominique Visse has the cameo part that suits his voice and the kind of camp stage presence he has created for himself. In Nerillo, Amida’s page, he exploits this to the full. The action however is dominated by the female roles of Erisbe and Sicle, both sung beautifully by Stéphanie Révidat and Magali Léger. These two soprano characters run the plot, and it is right that they should come across more strongly that their two male lovers, Ormindo and Amida. Ormindo really needs to be sung by an haute-contre, not an alto as here. But all the voices have a lyrical quality, and they have certainly got their minds and tongues round the occasionally fast-moving Italian, so I guess this is the fruit of a well-prepared staged version.

As the plot develops, we get some fine exchanges, and the laments and lovers’ partings as they drink what they believe to be poison are sung passionately yet clearly. The drama in this production – aided by some pruning – moves the music along at a good pace; only occasionally was I aware of some awkward changes of key, and some of the blank staves are filled – for example in Erisbe’s “Ah questo è l’imeneo” – with a questionable violin part.

But lovers of Cavalli and students of the beginnings of the Venetian opera house and its early productions will be glad of this performance, despite my reservations.
David Stancliffe

Sonia Prina Adriano, Ann Hallenberg Farnaspe, Roberta Invernizzi Emirena, Romina Basso Sabina, Lucia Cirillo Idalma, Ugo Guagliardo Osroa, Europa Galante, Fabio Biondi
172′ (3 CDs)
Fra Bernardo FB1409491

[dropcap]A[/dropcap]driano in Siria was the first of three operas written by the virtuoso violinist Francesco Maria Veracini for Handel’s London rivals, the Opera of the Nobility. It was first performed at the King’s Theatre on 26 February 1735, subsequently running to an impressive 20 performances. The booklet notes for this first recording wrongly suggest a mixed reception, in the process inaccurately citing the king as the leading supporter of the Nobility, and quoting a long, damning (if amusing) report of the opera by Lord John Hervey, without recognising that Hervey was by no means an impartial observer, being a bitter opponent of the Prince of Wales, who was the leading supporter of the Nobility. Adriano was set to a much-altered libretto of Metastasio’s. It tells of the Emperor Hadrian’s (Adriano) betrayal of the Roman princess Sabina in favour of Emirena, his captive and the daughter of his enemy Osroa, King of Parthia. Caught in the middle of this intrigue is Farnaspe, a Parthian prince betrothed to Emirena, a role taken by Farinelli, who headed a glittering cast that also included Senesino (Adriano), Cuzzoni (Emirena) and the bass Montagnana as the fierce Parthian ruler. The score is an admirably capable piece of work that includes an agreeable variety of arias. The writing, perhaps understandably, tends to be more instrumental in character than one might expect from Handel or Hasse, some of it indeed being reminiscent of Vivaldi (cf Osroa’s act 1 aria di furia ‘Sprezza il furor’). If there is a weakness it is a tendency for the instrumental writing (usually for strings alone) to fall back on sequential chains of roulades.
     Nonetheless a large vote of thanks is due to Fabio Biondi for reviving the opera (and providing the missing plain recitatives) and doing so with a cast that in present-day terms seeks to emulate the original. Praise must however be tempered with considerable reservation regarding Biondi’s direction of the live performance, which emanates from the 2014 edition of Vienna’s Resonanzen Festival. Tempos are often extreme, while within arias they are often pulled around mercilessly, especially (for some reason) in B sections. The strings, not favoured by a dry recording, sound woefully undernourished, the small number (3-3-2-1-1) contrasting starkly with the 20-odd known to have been employed by the King’s Theatre at the time. The addition of timpani in several numbers is almost certainly spurious. It is a measure of the quality of Ann Hallenberg’s wonderful Farnaspe that it eclipses the remainder of a splendid cast, not least because she is the only one to produce proper trills. But whether in primarily lyrical arias such as ‘Parto, sì bella’ (act 1) or the rather vacuously virtuosic ‘Amor, dover, rispetto’ that ends act 2, Hallenberg is here at her peerless best. The presen-tation by the recently established Fra Bernardo label is poor. The booklet’s small white print on black is difficult to read, there is no translation of the Italian text and the synopsis of the plot is remarkably unhelpful. The company has an interesting catalogue in prospect, but it will need to be more user friendly to English speaking collectors if it is to succeed.

Brian Robins

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Brian adds: The rating for performance is an average. It would be 2 for orchestral work, 4 for singing (5 for Ann Hallenberg!)

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