Tag: Opera

A Versailles entertainment for Louis XIV, Louis XV & Louis XVI
Chantal Santon-Jeffrey, Emőke Baráth, Thomas Dolié, Purcell Choir, Orfeo Orchestra, György Vashegyi
93:46 (2 CDs in a card folder)
Glossa GCD 924002

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is quite the daftest (musical) idea I have come across in quite some time, a pretentious conceit that simply does not work. It is surprising to find the Centre de musique baroque de Versailles cited as co-producers. Its objective can be found in the subtitle: ‘A Versailles entertainment for Louis XIV, Louis XV and Louis XVI’. So what we have is a pastiche that amounts to a huge divertissement with music drawn from composers ranging from Lully through to Gluck and Piccinni and arranged in roughly chronological order. Given that the work is stitched together to form a continuous whole divided into two parts, it, of course, makes little musical sense given the considerable stylistic differences to be encountered during a period spanning over 100 years.

Three characters are involved in this ‘opera’, Apollo (the bass Thomas Dolié), La Renommée (Fame) and La Gloire (Glory), sung by the sopranos Chantal Santon-Jeffery and Emőke Baráth. The text employed is unchanged from its place in the work from which it has been unceremoniously ripped, there thus being not only no dramatic sense or logical continuity, only confusing references to characters that play no part in the present entertainment. In a desperate search for positives, there is quite a lot of music that you won’t find anywhere else on records. I was, for example, delighted to make the acquaintance of the noble récitative  and chorus ‘La volonté du ciel’ from Dauvergne’s ballet Le Retour du printemps  (Versailles, 1765), while, if the chorus from Piccinni’s Atys  (Fontainebleau, 1780) is anything to go by, this tragédie lyrique  might be well worth an airing. But it has to be admitted that there’s some fairly mundane stuff here too, and, by and large, it is the familiar extracts that are the most satisfying. Indeed, in this company, the great opening chorus of lamentation for the dead Castor and aria for Telaire, ‘Tristes apprêts’, from Rameau’s Castor et Pollux  stand out like a shining beacon, though employing the ‘Air sauvage’, the hit number from the same composer’s Les Indes galantes, as the finale smacks of gratuitous opportunism rather than considered judgment.

‘Tristes apprêts’ is beautifully sung by Baráth, who is by some margin the best of the three soloists. As in the past, I find Santon-Jeffery one of the less appealing of the plethora of sopranos (and mezzos) France seems to produce so readily in the early music field. While the voice is not unattractive, it is not steady enough and she uses too much vibrato. Dolié is a bass I’ve greatly admired in the past, especially in György Vashegyi’s splendid recording of Mondonville’s Isbé, but he doesn’t seem at his best here. Similar reservations might be applied to Vashegyi’s direction, which – while never less than idiomatic – is a little earthbound, compared to earlier work in French Baroque repertoire. His period instrument orchestra plays well enough, but without the élan and finish of an ensemble like Les Talens Lyriques, who I’ve probably heard too much recently to avoid invidious comparisons. The choir, a sizable body, is capable but at times too opaque for this music.

Not then, I think, an essential recording and, having proved himself adept in this repertoire, I hope Vashegyi will another time give us something rather more substantial.

Brian Robins

Ann Hallenberg, il pomo d’oro, Stefano Montanari
129:56 [recte: 98:40!] (2 CDs in a cardboard box)
Pentatone PTC 5186 678
Music by Albinoni, Gaicomelli, Leo, Orlandini, Porpora & Vinci

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he early music world has now become accustomed to the concept operatic recital, often designed around the repertoire of one of the great singers of the 18th century. This 2-disc set, devised by Helger Schmitt-Hallenberg, the musicologist husband of mezzo Ann Hallenberg, takes a rather different approach, concentrating on the repertoire given in Venice in the Carnival season of 1728/9. The choice could hardly have been shrewder. It was an extraordinary season that not only featured new works by some of the leading opera composers of the day – names such as Leonardo Leo, Geminiano Giacomelli, Tomaso Albinoni, Giuseppe Maria Orlandini, Nicola Porpora and Leonardo Vinci – but a glittering array of star singers including Faustina Bordini and the castratos Senesino, Farinelli and Nicolini, Handel’s first Rinaldo. It is impossible to think of any festival today that could start to match such a line up.

The operas included that winter provide the Hallenbergs with a bountiful choice, it being noteworthy that despite the inclusion of composers who today are virtually unknown the musical quality is remarkably high throughout. Indeed, in the case of the extracts from an opera such as Leo’s Catone in Utica  I suspect strongly that we are looking at a work that demands revival. The excerpts from Orlandini’s Adelaide  also suggest an opera that would warrant further attention, though the eponymous heroine’s ‘Non sempre invendicata’, a Bordoni aria, is lifted from being a fairly conventional aria di furia  by Hallenberg’s dazzling coloratura virtuosity and powerful chest notes.

The bar for the whole recital is set high from the first aria, ‘Mi par sentir’ from Gianguir  by Giacomelli, a some-time pupil of Alessandro Scarlatti who apparently shared his master’s reputation for writing ‘difficult’ music. But there is nothing remotely difficult about this exquisitely lovely aria, which features an obbligato oboe (played here with a sensitivity that does not avoid the odd moment of sourness) and pizzicato strings. Hallenberg’s singing of it is a master-class in Baroque performance practice, with elegantly shaped phrasing and precise articulation of passaggi, along with an acute attention to text that should be studied by all aspiring singers of this repertoire. The variation of vocal colouring and subtlety of expression is also something to be wondered at; one need only listen to the different accentuation brought to ‘caro’, the final word of the A section, to be aware of an artist who has thought deeply about her performances. Here as elsewhere the ornamentation of the da capo is also an object lesson, with decoration that never steps beyond the bounds of taste to distort the melodic line.

The second excerpt from Adelaide  brings a long and fine accompagnato to introduce the aria, it being projected with intense dramatic purpose, before moving into a beautiful cantabile aria, ‘Quanto bella’ with violin obbligato, splendidly played by Montanari. Here one notes especially Hallenberg’s superb mezzo voce  and her precise articulation of the chain of trills that remind us of the inadequacy of most vocal performances of Baroque music, where one is lucky to hear a trill, let alone a whole sequence of them.

It would be possible, if idle, to subject every track on this peerless set to such commentary. These are performances to hear, not talk about. Suffice it to say there is much more treasure here, ranging from three arias from Porpora’s marvellous Semiramide riconosciuta  to a gloriously spun performance of Emilia’s heartbreakingly lovely ‘Ombra cara’ from Leo’s Catone in Utica, where Hallenberg’s splendidly secure upper range comes into its own. Il pomo d’oro provides fine support throughout, with some truly Italianate legatos where appropriate. Finally, don’t take any notice of the timings for the two CDs given on the box, which are wildly inaccurate. The (very short) total timing is that given in my heading. No matter. This is a superlative set that demands to be in every collection of Baroque opera enthusiasts. Were Ann Hallenberg working within the parameters of mainstream opera I have for some while had absolutely no doubt that she would be rated among today’s great singers.

Brian Robins

Mirko Guadagnini Orfeo, Emanuela Galli La Musica/Euridice, Marina De Liso Messaggiera, Cristina Calzolari Proserpina, Matteo Bellotto Plutone, José Maria Lo Monaco Speranza, Salvo Vitale Caronte, Vincenzo Di Donato Apollo, Francesca Cassinari Ninfa, Giovanni Caccamo Pastore I, Makoto Sakurada Pastore II/ Spirito I, Claudio Cavina Pastore III, Tony Corradini Pastore IV/Spirito II, La Venexiana, Claudio Cavina
114:52 (2 CDs in a cardboard box)
Glossa GCD 920941

[dropcap]O[/dropcap]riginally recorded in 2006, but out of the catalogue for some time, this reissue of La Venexiana’s Orfeo  has obviously been timed to contribute to the celebrations for the 250 anniversary of the composer’s birth. Claudio Cavina came to it on the back of a cycle of the composer’s madrigals, an intégrale  that in my view served the earlier books better than the later ones. In any event Orfeo  is a rather different undertaking, though of course it contains madrigalian choruses, so it is interesting to discover – I missed the set first time round – that my principal reservations are much in line with those I had about some of the madrigals.

These reservations can be summed up in one word: portentousness. As he did with the later books of madrigals, Cavina has sought to impose a layering of flexible expressiveness that is surely foreign to the music. This makes itself manifest in some curious rhythmic decisions, but above all in tempos that result in what may be the longest performance of the opera on CD. If one takes as just a single example ‘Possente spirto’, Orfeo’s appeal to Charon (the boatman of the Styx) and the most famous set piece in the opera, is much the slowest performance I’ve ever heard. Not only does this undermine the whole point of the song, which becomes tedious rather than seductive, but it also causes problems for the singer Mirko Guadagnini, who is at times unable to sustain accurate pitch. Guadagnini is in any event a rather average Orfeo, missing much of the passion of the role and coping only moderately well with the florid ornamentation that is such an integral part of ‘Possente spirto’. While on the subject of ornamentation, there is throughout the set a disappointing lack of it, the topic going un-remarked in a long and somewhat pretentious essay on the subject of the performance practice adopted.

The remainder of the cast is variable. Emanuela Galli sings both La Musica and Euridice. The instrumental introduction to the former is introduced in heavily mannered style, but I like the way Galli varies each of the five strophic verses and she is very good indeed with dramatising the text. Her Euridice is fine, if not especially remarkable and her sad return to Hades after the fatal glance is nothing like as moving as that of the young British soprano Rachel Ambrose Evans in the performance by I Fagiolini I’d seen just a couple of weeks earlier. The large cast of supporting singers varies in accomplishment from a poor Speranza to the excellent Plutone of Matteo Bellotto, but is in general terms more than serviceable, although again some of Cavina’s tempos are most likely responsible for the odd pitch problem experienced by some of them. Given that Cavina would surely not dream of employing multiple voices to a part in Monteverdi’s madrigals, it seems curious (and unconvincing) that he has expanded the chorus here. The overall excellence of the instrumental playing is one of the unreserved plusses, but in sum this is not a performance I would feature in a recommended list of Orfeo  recordings.

Brian Robins

Carlo Vistoli countertenor, Talenti Vulcanici, Stefano Demicheli
62:26
Arcana A 427
Handel, Pergolesi, Sarro & A. Scarlatti

[dropcap]F[/dropcap]amous for creating the eponymous role in Handel’s spectacularly successful opera Rinaldo, Nicola Grimaldi – known as Nicolino – was as admired for his lyrical voice as his refined abilities as an actor, the second of these allowing him to draw in the crowds until his death at 59 when his voice was probably past its youthful best. Carlo Vistoli is yet another of the current crop of remarkable male alto voices, whose vocal ease even in the higher registers in which Nicolino excelled is apparent.

And having introduced us to his readings of three arias from Rinaldo  with orchestral episodes, he also performs other music inspired and sung by Nicolino, including Arias from Alessandro Scarlatti’s Il Cambise  and Pergolesi’s Salustia  as well as a section from Arsace  by the relatively unknown Neapolitan composer Domenico Natale Sarro. As more attention is paid to the rich Baroque operatic scene in Naples, it can come as no surprise that Sarro turns out to be a composer of striking capabilities and originality. Talenti Vulcanici are another of these superb Baroque ensembles specializing in accompanying operatic Divas and Divos. Are they cloning these somewhere secretly, or are the same excellent players regularly meeting up under different names? It would seem not, and that these groups have simply sprung up to meet a growing demand for Baroque opera live and on CD. A CD like this ultimately stands or falls on the merits of the soloist, and with a couple of slight reservations, mainly regarding excessive vibrato when he turns up the volume, I must say that Vistoli provides thoughtful and vocally impressive accounts of this dramatic music.

D. James Ross

Roberta Invernizzi, Accademia Hermans, Fabio Ciofini
78:02
Glossa GCD 922904
Music from Alcina, Berenice, Giulio Cesare, Giustino, Lotario, Poro & Scipione

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his CD draws upon the many queens who grace Handel operas, although also the chief female opera divas, Cuzzoni and Strada del Pò, whose technical skill and dramatic presences inspired the music for his most successful female roles. An extended and slightly laboured playing-card metaphor dominates the programme notes, which however also find time to paint in some context for these major female influences on Handel’s writing. Invernizzi is in splendid voice, characterizing Handel’s heroines with a wonderfully varied vocal palette. For some she finds an almost shrew-like quality in her versatile voice, for others a rapturous lyricism, and only occasionally did I find the mannered vibrato in her upper range disconcerting – she more than amply shows that she can sing pure upper notes, but is inclined to lapse into vibrato if these are held for any duration. This is a tiny and maybe idiosyncratic objection to a generally superb and extremely expressive voice.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dO55lLK9H88

Ms. Invernizzi is beautifully supported by Accademia Hermans, one of the veritable plethora of simply superb period operatic instrumental ensembles which seem to have sprung up over the last decade. They play with absolute unanimity and powerful expressiveness, and are given a couple of instrumental slots which provide a bit of relief from the otherwise wall-to-wall arias. These are all performances to savour, and are wonderfully evocative of the golden age of Baroque opera in the London of first half of the 18th century.

D. James Ross

Xavier Sabata, Armonia Atenea, George Petrou
66:00
Aparté AP143
Ariosti, Caldara, Conti, Handel, Hasse, Orlandini, Sarro, Torri & Vivaldi

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is an intriguing CD bringing recits and arias from early 18th-century operas by big names such as Handel and Vivaldi, other composers whose stars are currently in the ascendant such as Hasse, Conti and Caldara and relatively neglected composers such as Giuseppe Maria Orlandini, Attilio Ariosti and Pietro Torri. As soon as I put on the CD and heard Sabata’s voice, I instantly thought of Handel’s great castrato star Senesino, and strangely several of the arias recorded here were composed for him. Like Senesino, Sabata has a wonderfully rich low alto voice, as well as the gift for dramatic pathos which Senesino clearly also had. The programme notes make a valiant if not entirely successful attempt to tie the arias together using ancient Greek theories of drama, although the English translation unfortunately uses the word ‘hybris’ rather than the more customary ‘hubris’, and the whole construct is stretched ad absurdum in trying to embrace Hasse’s oratorio on the Conversion of St Agostini! I would have preferred more information on the relatively unknown but excellent composers whose music is recorded here, often for the first time. No matter, this is a wonderfully engaging CD, and while the various curious photos of various parts of Mr Sabata’s anatomy being drenched with water are undoubtedly intended to lend the product visual impact, this is a CD which more than stands on its considerable musical merits.

If the excellent period ensemble Armonia Atenea occasionally seem to occupy a slightly more distant and more resonant acoustic space than the soloist, their contribution is superbly dynamic and, in the haunting aria “Gelido in igni vena” from Vivaldi’s Farnace, positively apocalyptic. Listening to these powerful performances it is easy to understand how it was that Senesino and his fellow castrati occupied the cult status that they did, able as they were to reduce audiences to tears with their sheer vocal wizardry and musicality. These are characteristics which Xavier Sabata also has in abundance, and on the basis of this CD I have mentally added him to my list of remarkable male alto voices which this new generation has produced.

D. James Ross

Terry Wey countertenor, Bach Consort Wien, Rubén Dubrovsky (with Vivica Genaux mezzo-soprano &  Valer Sabadus countertenor)
74:40
deutsche harmonia mundi 889854105020
Music by Gasparini, Handel, Hasse, Pollarolo, Sarro, Torri & Vinci

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he concept of selections centred on great singers of the past has become popular in recent years. It is an excellent idea, not only as it provides a focus that might otherwise be missing, but – and more importantly – it can provide unique insight into the kind of voice possessed by a singer before we had the aid of recordings to determine such things. This is especially valuable in the case of a singer like the alto castrato Antonio Maria Bernacchi, whose fame rests principally, if perhaps unfairly, on a magnificent coloratura technique employed at the expence of expression.

Bernacchi was born in Bologna in 1685. After making his first operatic appearance in Genoa in 1703, he sang in 1709 in Vienna and Venice, the latter the city in which he would appear most frequently. But his fame rapidly spread throughout Italy and he was also engaged by Handel (at huge cost) in London, where he created the roles of Lotario  in the eponymous opera (1729) and Arsace in Partenope  a few months later. Eartlier, in 1720, he had been engaged by the Elector of Bavaria in Munich, service in which Bernacchi nominally remained until 1735. Particularly in his latter years he was known for his excessive obesity, a famous caricature depicting him having his stomach held up on stage by an extra. Bernacchi died in 1756, two decades after he had retired with a reputation on a par with the likes of Senesino and Farinelli, the latter of whom for a short while studied with Bernacchi.

The opening aria on the CD, ‘Pace e guerra’ from Pietro Torri’s Lucio Vero  (Munich, 1720) will do little to dispel Bernacchi’s repute as an exponent of virtuoso coloratura, although the opening word announces Swiss countertenor Terry Wey’s credentials with a finely graded messa di voce. Ironically the aria, like a number of the faster pieces, is taken at a rapid tempo, complete with fashionably clipped orchestral playing, that only serves to underline Bernacchi’s reputation and the rather vapid nature of the aria. On the plus side it shows Wey’s articulation of rapid passagework to be excellent, if rather less praiseworthy in communicating the meaning of the text. Here, as elsewhere, Wey’s ornamentation of da capo repeats is largely sensible, mostly avoiding the wilder ascents and leaps that so many singers appear to be unable to resist. Rather more interesting than ‘Pace e guerra’ and coloratura arias like ‘A dispetta’ from Gasparini’s Il Bajazet  is the number of slower, more expressive numbers that suggest Bernacchi’s talents were far wider than has been suggested. Among them are arias from the two London operas of Handel’s in which he appeared. Arsace’s ‘Ch’io parta’ from Partenop e is sung by Wey with great expressive sensitivity, while the exquisitely lovely ‘Non disperi peregrino’ from Lotario  is a ‘simile’ aria breathing calm spiritual advice, conveyed with eloquently sustained tone and line, though again I’m not entirely convinced Wey has captured the inner essence of the text. This repertoire remains full of undiscovered treasure, of which there are several examples included here, foremost an utterly wonderful duet from Hasse’s Demetrio, in which Wey is joined, as he is in several extracts, by mezzo Vivica Genaux. This is one of those pieces – originally written for Hasse’s wife Faustina Bordoni and Bernacchi – where Hasse’s extravagant reputation as an Italianate lyricist par excellence  is fully vindicated, a gorgeously flowing andante that synthesises passionate intensity with truly profound emotion.

Overall this is a highly satisfying CD. The repertoire, much of it new to CD, is often revelatory, while Wey is a sensitive, responsive singer who shows himself capable of holding a sustained line with security, even if tonally his voice is perhaps not the most distinctive or characterful. With the exception of the caveat regarding brittle, clipped phrasing in quicker numbers, he is well supported by the Bach Consort Wien. Lovers of Baroque opera should snap up the disc without delay.

Brian Robins