Tag: Opera

Van Wanroij, Vidal, Dolié, [Santon-Jeffery, Lefebvre], Les Chantres du CMBV, Ensemble Les Surprises, L.-N. Bestion de Camboulas
120:34 (2 CDs in a card folder)
Ambronay AMY053

This charming pastorale héroique was one of 18th-century France’s greatest operatic hits. First performed in 1697, re-worked in 1708 and 1724 and still in the Versailles repertoire in 1773, it also enjoyed a sustained run in Paris from late 1733 into 1734. The music is lovely – dramatically engaging, melodically inventive and orchestrally colourful – and, even in this five-acts-and-a-prologue form, of manageable length.

I might have loved much of this in a theatre but the repeated listening that a recording gets raises some questions. The rather studious composed orchestral ornaments for e. g., the first section of the overture do sound less likely on each hearing; I doubt that the percussion was specified by the composer; and while theorboes are perfectly reasonable in French opera until about 1730 I’m not convinced by the guitar.

Moreover, the first two-and-a-half minutes raise the fundamental problem of so many performances, particularly of early opera, that one hears. The (brief) overture introduces us to one sound-world after which we are disturbed (not too strong a word) by a voice from another sonic universe – ironically singing about ‘une douceur profonde’. I really did wince. And I think others will also struggle with the un-reconstructed modern singing (including by the chorus) against much beautiful, gentle instrumental sound. But some might not.

The booklet (French & English) offers every help to those wishing to explore. The essay is concise but informative and there is a full libretto with parallel translation. I do wish, however, that the dull artist biographies offered a glimpse of the person behind the lists of prizes, roles and conductors-worked-with.

David Hansell

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Julia Böhme alto, La Folia Barockorchester, Robin Peter Müller
51:01
Accent ACC 24356

In a note so badly translated that it is scarcely intelligible, we are told that the women who played the part of seconda donna, or second woman, in 18th-century opera are both figuratively and often literally ‘Women in the Shadows’, the use of shadows then expanded into a discussion of the Baroque taste for chiaroscuro. The space taken up by this pretentious nonsense would have been far better occupied by telling us something of the singers who undertook roles that frequently complemented the prima donna in their opposition or rivalry to her. They are not even mentioned. In the case of Alcina in Vivaldi’s Orlando furioso (1727) one could even question whether the role is that of seconda donna. Originally sung by Anna Girò, Vivaldi’s brilliant young protégée, in her most ambitious part to date, this a multifaceted role that includes no fewer than seven arias, including the delightfully playful ‘Amorose ai rai del sole’ and lively ‘Vorresti amor da me’ included here.

Or perhaps we might consider the role of Matilde in Handel’s Lotario (1729). Wife of the usurper Berengario, she is far too positive to be considered a shadowy figure, rather is she ‘a veritable dragon without a redeeming feature’, to quote Winton Dean. Matilde was originally sung by Antonia Merighi, a contralto particularly noted for her acting and for whom Handel composed a number of important secondary roles. The range of her music is amply illustrated in this selection by two arias and the powerful act 3 accompanied recitative, ‘Furie del crudo averno’. In the bitingly sarcastic ‘Arma lo sguardo’, Matilde addresses both her son Idelberto and the heroine Adelaide, while ‘Quel superbo’ is a cantabile ‘simile aria’.

What we have here, then, might have thrown an interesting spotlight on some of opera’s mostly less than heroic women, but for that reason alone intriguing. That it is not, I’m afraid, is the fault of performances that never rise above the level of ordinary and are marred by the monochrome tonal palette of Julia Böhme, whose vocal acting and Italian diction are so poor as to project little idea of text. While her basic technique is sound, with well articulated passaggi, her approach to embellishment, both written and added, is often tentative and unimaginative. The support given by the La Folia Barockorchester, here pared down to one-string-per-part despite a booklet illustration that promises more substantial forces (if nowhere approaching the size Handel had at his disposal in London), is routine at best and too often merely pedestrian. In sum, a thoroughly disappointing CD.

Brian Robins

Monteverdi Choir, English Baroque Soloists, directed by John Eliot Gardiner
185:50 (3 CDs)
SDG 730

Those looking for a HIP recording – and I assume that would apply to most readers on this site – of this marvellous product of Monteverdi’s old age should be warned this is not it. In a long and to me at times pretentious note John Eliot Gardiner makes clear that he views Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria not as an up-to-date opera in mid-17^th century Venetian style, but as a continuation of that encountered in his earlier operas and works. This surely contradicts not only practicalities, but also the changed ethos of opera. Monteverdi cannot have been unaware of developments that had taken place, particularly since the advent of public opera in Venice three years before Il ritorno was first produced in 1640. Moreover the libretto, based on Homer’s Odyssey, with which Giacomo Badoaro had tempted him to the public theatre presented a totally different approach to the operas of the early years of the century. It is, for example, quite unthinkable to image the comic glutton Iro in Orfeo or any other opera of the first decades of the century.

Gardiner’s contentious proposal enables him to do two things. Firstly, to indulge in some tenuous comparisons with Shakespeare, who had not only died a quarter of a century earlier, but belonged to a different milieu and culture. Secondly, and more importantly, it allows him to indulge his preference for inflated and unidiomatic performing forces. So here, rather than the modest forces found in Venetian opera houses, Gardiner unapologetically fields a sizable orchestra including not only 6-4-1-1 strings but cornetti, recorders and dulcian in addition to a sizable continuo group that includes four archlutes (or guitars), harp, organ and harpsichord. Experienced Monteverdians will thus at times find themselves thinking they are listening to Orfeo rather than Il ritorno. This may to some sound pedantic. In fact it is not, because the use of such substantial forces tends to obstruct clear projection of text, crucial in works of this kind. Neither is the non-continuo contribution always restricted to ritornellos, as was customary in 17th century Venetian opera. Among a number of examples the worst is the addition of a tasteless violin solo to the sensuous duet at the conclusion of the delightful scene (act 1, sc 2) between the young servant lovers Melanto and Eurimaco.

It’s an unnecessary and vulgar intrusion that jars, especially as the scene is one of the best performed episodes in the opera. Otherwise there is much to be questioned, particularly in the treatment of the stile recitativo that still dominates the opera. In his notes Eliot Gardiner makes much of the work that was put into making sure both singers and instrumentalists understood the fusion of the all-important text and Monteverdi’s music. Yet to my mind much of the recitative is delivered in far too deliberate a manner, with much fragmentation, exaggeration of rhythmic flexibility and unnatural dynamic extremes. The result is not only self-indulgent and mannered but paradoxically also stilted and at times lugubrious.

The multi-national cast assembled by Gardiner has both strengths and weaknesses. I have mixed feelings about the Penelope of French mezzo Lucile Richardot. The voice itself is disconcertingly unusual, with an almost masculine quality in the chest register contrasting with pleasingly feminine head notes, the break always too apparent. Yet she brings a strong dramatic sense to the role and it is probably not her fault if the great opening monologue at times sounds more like whinging than the dignified distress of a queen. But she sings ornaments with greater conviction than most of the cast and the final, long-delayed reunion with her Ulisse is intensely moving, not least since Gardiner here allows text and music a more natural flow, enabling the drama to speak for itself. Her Ulisse is capably sung by the veteran baritone Furio Zanasi, who brings authority and long-established understanding of musical and textural syntax to the role. The voice may no longer be free of the odd rough edge – he was superior in a performance under Rinaldo Alessandrini given at the 2010 Beaunne Festival – but overall this is an impressive assumption of the role. The outstanding performance here is that of the Polish tenor Krystian Adam, whose Telemaco is perhaps the finest I’ve heard. The youthful fervency he brings to his relations with both his mother and father coupled with excellent articulation of text is totally compelling. Mention has already been made of the fine performances of the servants Melanto and Eurimaco, sung with appealingly youthful vivacity by Anna Dennis and Zachary Wilder. The remaining roles are filled with varying degrees of success.

The recording was made at live performances given in 2017 in Wroclaw, Poland, coming at the end of an extensive and, as I understand, highly successful tour of Europe and the US, during which the three extant Monteverdi operas were given in semi-staged productions. I regret not being able to add my endorsement, but feel that, as with his continued refusal to countenance Bach performances that conform to those of Bach’s own day, Sir John simply has this wrong. My recommendation remains the considerably more idiomatic performance by La Venexiana (Glossa).

Brian Robins

Vox Luminis, Lionel Meunier
97:59 (2 CDs in a wallet)
Alpha Classics Alpha 430

It is hard to believe that this performance of Purcell’s semi-opera is achieved by only thirty performers! One-to-a-part strings sound perfectly adequate (although the original performances would surely have used more) and balance well with the woodwind and brass soloists, while the vocal soloists double as chorus (as they probably would have done originally) and the director Lionel Meunier leads by example, singing bass in the choruses and also playing in the four-strong recorder section! The substantial harpsichord part is not credited in the orchestral list, but in the booklet photos seems to be played by organist Anthony Romaniuk. The general sound is spacious and rich, with a wonderful timbre when the full ensemble are playing and singing. The frost scenes are spectacularly evocative, while the familiar patriotic music, the stirring trumpet tunes and specifically Fairest Isle, are beautifully rendered, the latter sung with crystal-clear tones by Zsuzsi Tóth. The more raucous bucolic choruses never get too out of hand and the piece ends with the pomp of praise for St George, a stirring chorus with trumpets and an elegant Chaconne. This is a fine account of Purcell’s King Arthur with a first-class set of soloists, who also make a fine chorus, and idiomatic and technically sound orchestral forces. Lionel Meunier has a clear vision of the work, and evokes a powerful account of Purcell’s masterwork from his talented performers.

D. James Ross

Emőke Baráth, Giuseppina Bridelli, Xavier Sabata, Gabriella Martellacci, Luca Cervoni, Riccardo Novaro SmScTATBar, Il Pomo d’Oro, directed by Andrea De Carlo
188:21 (3 CDs in a wallet)
Arcana A 454 (The Stradella Project vol. 5)

The excellent Baroque ensemble Pomo d’Oro under the direction of Andrea De Carlo are joined by a first-class line-up of soloists for this account of the first complete opera by Alessandro Stradella, dating probably from the 1670s while the composer was resident in Rome. At this stage in his short life, Stradella had the reputation of being able to set a libretto to music in a matter of weeks, and in the case of a lightly scored light comedy such as this, it is easy to see how such a feat was possible. Consisting of recitative alternating with simple, tuneful arias ‘con ritornello’ and duets this is the sort of music which could be composed by the yard. Having said that, Stradella’s gift for melody and texture means that he makes the most of the limited demands of this genre, and his instrumental accompaniments are charmingly tuneful, his sung melodies always lyrical and imaginative and the various roles are felicitously characterized in music. The present performance uses just solo strings and continuo, but one rarely feels that the texture is overly thin. The six excellent soloists bring passion and distinctive timbres to their various roles, with particular accolades due to Emőke Baráth’s energetic account of the eponymous heroine Doriclea, the ever-excellent Xavier Sabata as an intense Fidalbo and a smokey-voiced Gabriella Martellacci as Delfina. The programme notes speculate that this is the sort of entertainment which might have been performed outdoors in a castle garden, and with its light orchestration it is easy to see this working rather well, with characters popping in and out from behind hedging to make their contributions. I have emphasized the light-weight nature of the piece, and compared to the operas of Monteverdi it is inconsequential fare indeed, but the music is never less than pleasantly entertaining and this superb performance consistently engages the attention. I consider it unlikely that a performance of the work would have kicked off with a recitative, as suggested by the score and as the performers here choose to do – surely a piece of instrumental music by Stradella would have preceded the performance, and could easily have done so here too. I also feel that that the singers are slightly closely recorded for my taste, but otherwise the sound is excellent and the whole project is infused with musicality and dynamism.

D. James Ross

Delphine Galou Giustino, Emőke Baráth Arianna, Silke Gäng Anastasio, Verónica Cangemi Leocasta, Emiliano Gonzalez Toro Vitaliano, Arianna Vendittelli Amanzio, Alessandro Giangrande Andronico (alto) & Polidarte (tenor), Rahel Maas Fortuna, Accademia Bizantina, Ottavio Dantone
No total timing shown (3 CDs in a jewel box with booklet in card sleeve)
Naïve OP 30571

HOW AMAZING to think that naïve’s vivaldi edition has reached volume 58! This is the 17th complete opera to be recorded and – like its predecessors – it is packed with fantastic music. The plot is typically complicated (and its denouement typically contrived) and I must confess that the more baroque opera I listen to the better I understand a friend’s insistence that Handel is quite in a class of his own when it comes to getting under the skins of his characters; it is true that Vivaldi writes happy arias, and sad ones, angry and love-dazed ones, too, but they are two dimensional representations of those emotions – his characters somehow lack personality.

In this well-paced and beautifully recorded set, the singing of the arias and ensembles (Arianna and Anastasio sing two gorgeous duetti) is mostly first rate and the playing often outstanding – I especially enjoyed the contributions of the horns. Try as I might to put it out of my mind, though, I could not avoided being irked by the fact that the repeated A sections were not so much ornamented as re-written (occasionally, frankly, beyond the abilities of the singers). Similarly the secco recitative for the most part lack any dynamism and any attempts to liven it up (such as the scene protraying the slaying of the bear) descended into the aural equivalent of ham acting…

So a mixed bag, to be honest. I think I’d probably just programme the player to omit the recit and enjoy a recital of very fine arias.

Brian Clark