Tag: Opera

Allan Clayton, Classical Opera, Ian Page
68:59
Signum Records SIGCD457
Music by Arne, Boyce, Handel & J. C. Smith

[dropcap]A[/dropcap]n interesting recital disc – as far as I am aware the first one devoted to music sung by one of Handel’s most favoured English performers, rather than one of his Italian stars.

John Beard was probably born around 1715, and David Vicker’s exemplary notes suggest that he may have sung as a treble in the famous Coronation service of 1727, when Handel’s great set of Anthems were first heard. His adult career began with the part of Silvio in the 1734 revival of Il Pastor Fido; he was to be Handel’s principal tenor for the rest of the latter’s life, creating the eponymous roles of Samson, Judas Maccabaeus and Jephtha, as well as a host of others. He was clearly a singer of much distinction and dramatic ability, as Allan Clayton ably demonstrates here, equally at home in the smooth bel canto of ‘Tune Your Harps’ from Esther and the Italianate coloratura of ‘Vedi l’ape’ from Berenice, as well as the deeply moving ‘Thus when the sun’ from Samson  or Jephtha’s bleakly tragic ‘Hide thou thy hated beams’ and sublime ‘Waft her angels’.

He is joined by the mellifluous Mary Bevan in the lovely ‘As steals the morn’ from L’Allegro, and by the fine Choir of Classical Opera in ‘Happy pair’ from Alexander’s Feast.
As well as singing for Handel, Beard was employed by many of his musical contemporaries – we are treated to some lovely Boyce (his exquisite bassoon-tinted ‘Softly rise, O Southern breeze’ from Solomon), rousing J.C. Smith (‘Hark how the hounds and horn’ from The Fairies) and galant Arne (‘Thou, like the glorious sun’ from Artaxerxes)

The Orchestra of Classical Opera, under the able baton of Ian Page, provide lively and colourful accompaniments; they shine especially in the magically-hushed ‘moonrise’ sinfonia from Act 2 of Ariodante.

No reason to hesitate, really!

Alastair Harper

Flavio Ferri-Benedetti, Il Basilico
65:17
Pan Classics PC10341
Music by Feo, Handel, Hasse, Latilla, Porpora, Ristori & Zelenka

[dropcap]D[/dropcap]omenico Annibali was one of the leading castrati at the Dresden court in the mid 18th century, creating many ‘primo uomo’ roles for Hasse, the distinguished Kapellmeister, and performing also in works by Zelenka, Ristori and Porpora, amongst others. Additionally, he obtained leave of absence for a season in 1736/7 to come to London to sing for Handel at Covent Garden. He was clearly a formidably accomplished performer; the arias recorded here cover a wide dramatic range, from poised and affective bel canto to dazzling coloratura drama.

Flavio Ferri-Benedetti gives us a good taste of Annibali’s great artistry. He is at his mellifluous best in the slower pieces – try the opening Ristori ‘Belleze Adorate’, or Handel’s stately ‘Vado ad Morire’ (track 4) with its continuo-accompanied opening, the band being held back until the music moves to the dominant, creating a remarkable sense of spaciousness. He is joined in further Handel (from Berenice) by Carla Nahadi Babelegoto’s graceful soprano. In the faster and especially the more dramatically urgent pieces, he displays remarkable agility, though his tone becomes a little harder; from time to time his breathing between phrases has also been rather closely miked for comfort. For me, the most enjoyable track was the last one, from G. A. Ristori’s Componiment per musica, with its extended accompagnato (note the lovely pastoral drones) and firecracker of an aria.

Throughout, Il Basilico play like angels – there is a jaw-dropping display of solo horn (Olivier Picon) and solo theorbo (Ori Hannelin) in Hasse’s ‘Cervo al Bosco’ from Cleofide, and the strings produce tremendous dash and attack under Eva Saladin’s excellent leadership.

Silvano Monti’s sleevenotes are a worthy complement to this fine disc.

Alastair Harper

Orchestral music for the theatre
Tempesta di Mare
73:29
Chandos Chaconne CHAN 0810
Charpentier: Suite from Le Malade Imaginaire
Leclair: Suite from Scylla et Glaucus
Rameau: Suite from Les fêtes de Polymnie

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]op repertoire here in stylish performances (bar the 16’ foot string sound in the Charpentier and some silly percussion elsewhere). The Leclair (from his only surviving – perhaps, indeed, his only – opera) is absolutely scintillating stuff – well up to Rameau’s heady standard in both musical interest and colourful use of the orchestra. J-PR, however always raises the stakes in one way or another. I’d forgotten about the harmony at the start of Les Fêtes… until it shocked me yet again. What a composer! The booklet tells us what we need to know although it slightly irritates that it does not deal with the music in the order in which we hear it. It’s a shame that there are no plans for Volume 3.

David Hansell

Bernard Richter, Gaëlle Arquez, Benoît Arnould, João Fernandes, Alain Buet, Sabine Deveilhe, Emmanuelle de Negri, Romain Champion, Ensemble Pygmalion, Raphaël Pichon
145:13 (2 CDs in a wallet)
Alpha Classics ALPHA 964

[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ardanus -first performed 1739 – 26 performances; thoroughly revised and revived 1744 – 22 performances; minor changes and a further revival 1760 – acclaimed a masterpiece and remained in repertoire for 11 years. If at first you don’t succeed…

Needless to say, after all that care the music is absolutely brilliant reaching its zenith in the famous opening of Act IV (Lieux funestes) where Bernard Richter also gives his expressive all. As is usual with Rameau the orchestral writing is superb throughout – I just wish conductors would realise that their added percussion parts in the dances add nothing (but irritate massively, at least in this household). That aside, Ensemble Pygmalion sound as happy as orchestras usually sound with Rameau on the stands. Sadly, the v-word is, as usual, an issue with the singers and I found some of the ensembles, especially, difficult listening.

The booklet is definitely in the ‘must do better’ category. The fancy font that appears from time to time does nothing for legibility; the photographs languish without captions; the main essay is no more than functional; there is no information about the artists; and the translation of the libretto does not always quite achieve English. But what an opera!

David Hansell

Hana Blažiková, Markéta Cukrová, Tomaš Šelc SAB, Ensemble Tourbillon, Petr Wagner
69:11
Accent ACC 24306

[dropcap]Z[/dropcap]elenka may have written these eight arias as part of a strategy to be appointed Hasse’s assistant in the Dresden opera house. He was surely a victim of fashion because fans of his music will recognise all the trademarks of his style – an easy facility with melody and harmonic sleight of hand; but times were changing and simplicity had replaced erudition as the measure of good taste. No-one had the appetite for listening to arias of such great length and while musically beautiful there is no denying a certain lack of drama or excitement.

The three singers are – without exception – outstanding: Hana Blažiková has the lion’s share with five arias and she uses the broad palette of her radiant voice to excellent effect throughout; alto Markéta Cukrová has two, in which she demonstrates not only amazing technique but also an impressive range of colour; it is the upper reaches of Tomaš Šelc’s bass-baritone voice that most impresses in his single offering (the last on the disc), with ringing clarity and impeccable tuning.

When it comes to the instrumental contribution, I have to say there are one reservation; Zelenka would never have conceived of this music being played by single strings – surviving performing sets from Dresden often have three copies of violins and basses, sometimes even more. That is not a criticism of the players – indeed, their contribution is very fine, but for all their impassioned playing, they cannot make up for a lack of depth to the instrumental sound, especially when the cover illustration of the booklet is of a full-bodied opera production! I also found some of the continuo playing a little distracting, with running quaver runs competing with the singing for my ears’ attention, which can never be a good thing.

But these are minor quibbles about such a fine recording which I heartily recommend to Zelenka fans!

Brian Clark

Hasnaa Bennani, Les Muffatti, Peter Van Heyghen
69:27
Ramée RAM1501

[dropcap]F[/dropcap]rancesca Cuzzoni was one of Handel’s greatest singers during the period of the Royal Academy of Music in the mid-to-late 1720’s and was (amongst other roles) his formidable first Cleopatra and Rodelinda. Hasnaa Bennani and Peter van Heyghen have assembled a fine collection of her ‘finest airs’, including lesser-known jewels from Ottone, Admeto, Siroe  and Tolomeo  along with more usual favourites from Giulio Cesare  and Rodelinda.

Bennani proves a most persuasive Cuzzoni. She has the agility to throw off all the tricky coloratura with much aplomb (try the dazzling ‘Scoglio d’immota fronde’ (track 5) for example) but also the beauty of tone and dramatic expression to bring the slower arias to vivid life, ‘Se pieta’ (track 4) and ‘Se’l mio dolor’ (track 17), being particularly well done.

In some ways, however, it is the band who have unearthed the real treasure here. There is a wealth of characteristically characterful orchestral music hidden away in Handel’s operas, both in the overtures, but more particularly in the myriad sinfonias and dance movements which accompany or amplify the stage action. Van Heyghen has taken the imaginative step of combining movements to create satisfying larger orchestral units – I especially enjoyed the sequence of Tolomeo overture followed by sinfonias from Admeto and Scipione, with ringing horns fore and aft. Les Muffatti revel in Handel’s rich scorings, with fine bassoon and recorder obbligati as well as the aforementioned brass.

Well done, all concerned!

Alastair Harper

Aaron Sheehan Acis, Teresa Wakim Galatea, Douglas Williams Polyphemus, Jason McStoots Damon, Zachary Wilder Coridon, Boston Early Music Festival Vocal & Chamber Ensembles, Paul O’Dette & Stephen Stubbs
107:18 (2 CDs)
cpo 777 877-2

[dropcap]A[/dropcap]cis and Galatea established an early reputation as one of Handel’s most endearing and enduring dramatic works. The straightforward and touching simplicity of the plot (drawn from Ovid’s Metamorphoses), the modest performing forces required and – for native listeners at least – the very Englishness of the piece, with its clear debt to Purcell (an important feature only lightly touched on in Ellen T. Harris’ note) have all gone to ensure it has rarely been long out of the repertoire. The present performance emanates from a production given at the Boston Early Music Festival in 2009, although the recording was made by Radio Bremen four years later.

Judging from the photographs in the booklet, the production lived up to Boston’s reputation for stylish staging, with lavish early Georgian costumes and little in the way of sets (the original was given in the gardens of Cannons, the home of Handel’s patron, the Duke of Chandos). Performing forces, too, are – with one important exception I’ll come to in a moment – in keeping with the original, with just a couple of violins, cello and bass for the string parts. The choruses are quite properly sung one-to-a-part by the soloists, who display good ensemble and balance. The opening sinfonia bodes well, with nicely pointed playing and the contrapuntal textures clearly delineated, but already here one of the abiding flaws of so many Boston Festival recordings is revealed. That the festival has two directors of the stature of lutenists Paul O’Dette and Stephen Stubbs has without doubt been greatly to its benefit; that both have felt it necessary to make an overly intrusive contribution to the continuo of every production has most certainly not. With such small performing forces the constant and largely superfluous plucking of the pair rapidly becomes intensely irritating, not least, I would guess, to the poor harpsichordist, who might just as well have been left at home for all the impression his contribution is allowed to make.

With the exception of bass Douglas Williams’ strongly characterised and well-focussed Polyphemus, the solo vocal roles are taken capably rather than exceptionally. Teresa Wakim has a pleasingly clean, bright soprano, but for this listener at least her singing brings little character to the role in the way Norma Burrows did so alluringly and touchingly to the 1978 John Eliot Gardiner Archiv recording. And like all her colleagues Wakim has no trill or other essential assets of a Baroque singer. Ornaments are largely unimaginative or unstylish (sometimes both), while the sustained opening note of ‘Heart, the seat of soft Delight’, for example, surely positively screams for messa di voce. Such caveats largely apply equally to the remaining singers. Aaron Sheehan is the possessor of a pleasingly mellifluous, well-produced light tenor that he uses well, but like Wakim he shows little real identification with the role of the lovelorn Acis, his arias agreeable enough but essentially featureless. The same can be said for the pallid singing of tenors of Jason McStoots (Damon) and Zachary Wilder (Coridon), the former inclined to bleat ornaments (pun not intended). The overall direction is capable enough, though there might been rather more rhythmic ‘lift’ at times, while I found ‘Mourn all ye muses’ overly sentimental in a very 21st century way, a musical equivalent to the piles of dead flowers that mark the locations of tragic death.

The set is completed by a performance of the brief chamber cantata ‘Sarei troppo felice’, HWV 157 (1707) by Amanda Forsythe (who sings 2nd soprano in the chorus of Acis). Her singing is certainly more characterful than anything in the pastoral, but at times marred by excessive vibrato. Notwithstanding its age, the Gardiner has far more to offer, in addition to Burrows fielding the splendid Acis of Anthony Rolfe Johnson. There is also a more recent and highly regarded set by John Butt and his Dunedin forces that I’ve not heard.

Brian Robins