Shortlisted for the Gramophone Awards!

Normandy in the Années Folles. Romantic encounters, changes of identity and unexpected comic twists: in Passionnément, André Messager places himself at the intersection of café-concert, American popular music and French operetta. The score is swept along with great spirit by Véronique Gens, Étienne Dupuis, Nicole Car and a team of enthusiastic soloists accompanied by the Münchner Rundfunkorchester under Stefan Blunier. As witty as Messager’s music, the libretto, with its flavor of boulevard theatre, offers a genuine manifesto of the French spirit in the years after the First World War.

REVIEW:

Heading the cast is the distinguished soprano Véronique Gens in the role of Ketty, an American, former music-hall star. Gens sings beautifully, displaying her artistry and providing the subtleties to capture each mood. Undoubtedly the best-known aria from Passionnément is the act two waltz-song where Robert is missing being with Ketty (Margaret) and is anxious that his love for her should be reciprocated. Clearly savouring the celebrated waltz-song, Dupuis sings with warmth, successfully creating an entirely captivating mood.

This revival of Passionnément was recorded live during concert performances in 2020 at the Prinzregententheater, Munich and broadcast live. From what I understand to be a tricky live acoustic, the sound engineers have achieved successful results. As usual, the book is a bilingual edition (English and French) and it's hard to find fault with such detailed and extensive notes. Included is the complete libretto both sung and spoken, a synopsis and five interesting and helpful booklet essays. Bringing its 'French opera' series up to volume 28, Bru Zane's release of Messager's feelgood musical comedy Passionnément receives my wholehearted endorsement.

– MusicWeb International

La Fille de Madame Angot, an opéra-comique in three acts, was premiered at the Théâtre des Fantaisies-Parisiennes in Brussels on 4 December 1872 before scoring a similar triumph in France on 21 February 1873. In the Paris of the Directory period, Clairette Angot, an orphan raised by the people of Les Halles market, falls in love with the songwriter Ange Pitou. But, after many amorous and political plot twists, she resigns herself to marrying the wigmaker Pomponnet. Lecocq’s score, with its succession of hit numbers, created such enthusiasm that it enjoyed a run of more than four hundred performances at the Folies-Dramatiques, before conquering the French provinces and then the whole world in various translations. The work is still a relatively popular staple of the light operatic repertory even today. The Palazzetto Bru Zane here presents the first recording of the original version, with its unusual orchestration and several numbers that have fallen into oblivion.

REVIEWS:

La Fille de Mme Angot is a delightful show; and this new recording, which includes some changes from other recordings, is outstanding. It has been recorded before, but the earlier recordings were edited or shortened. Bru Zane’s new recording is the first of the original 1872 Brussels version using the operetta’s original orchestrations and contents.

The libretto (by Charles Clairville, Paul Siraudin, and Victor Konig) is set in the regime of post-revolutionary France, in the period before Napoleon and after Danton and Robespierre. Those intervening years were nostalgic for the 1872 audience, and the action was far enough in the past for a comic operetta. There are some allusions to this political tension when some of the characters support opposing sides. This is all lightened by LeCocq’s ingratiating score, and the proceedings are kept buoyant. The operetta was extremely popular and had almost 1000 performances in Brussels and Paris in its initial runs. Eventually it proved to be the most popular operetta of late-19th Century French theatre.

The new recording is simply delightful, the singing and playing effervescent. The cast is exceptional. Standouts include Veronique Gens as Mlle Lange and Anne-Catherine Gillet as Clairette. These ladies carry the show and their acting and singing is first-rate. The men are just as fine, with Mathias Vidal’s ripe tenor as the fickle Pitou, Artavazd Sargsyan as the fussy Pomponnet, and Matthieu Lecroart as the deceived Larivaudiere. Conductor Rouland leads the spritely orchestra, and the chorus is lively.

Bru Zane’s luxurious bound-in book includes a complete French and English libretto, track listings, notes, photos, drawings, and commentary. I would suggest purchasing this outstanding recording as soon as possible. My review copy is number 2426 of a limited edition of 4500.

-- American Record Guide

That globetrotting composer Camille Saint-Saëns wrote La Princesse jaune in 1872, exemplifying the current craze for all things Japanese. Kornélis, played by the tenor Mathias Vidal, dreams only of the Land of the Rising Sun. Under the influence of a hallucinogenic potion, he becomes infatuated with Ming, a fantasy princess. His cousin Léna – the soprano Judith van Wanroij – despairs of this passion and does not dare to confess her own feelings to Kornélis, who eventually comes to his senses. The running time of this opera enables us to offer a coupling in the shape of a previously unrecorded version of Saint-Saëns’s six Mélodies persanes, thus extending the guiding thread of a yearning for exotic horizons in another direction. Leo Hussain conducts the Orchestre National du Capitole de Toulouse in both works.

REVIEW:

With La Princesse jaune, Saint-Saëns, his librettist Gallet and the co-directors of the Opéra-Comique, who commissioned the opera, were attempting to take advantage of the Parisian vogue for the Orient, in particular Japan and its art and culture (the craze was known as japonisme). Gallet made a rather unlikely choice: he placed the Japanese-themed story in a Dutch town, in a room converted to an artists’ studio. There are just two characters. An overture is followed by arias and duets, all interspersed with spoken dialogue. Spoken word may be off-putting but the little there is – a few minutes all in all – integrates seamlessly with the sung text.

The story concerns Kornélis, a Dutch doctor fascinated with Japanese culture. His young cousin Léna is in love with him. Under the effects of a hallucinogenic drug, the fixated Kornélis falls in love with the subject of a portrait, a Japanese princess named Ming. His perception of reality is profoundly distorted. He believes Léna is Ming inhabiting a fairy-tale land. The potion wears off and Kornélis returns to reality. He yields to the charms of the despairing Léna and takes her in his arms.

Kornélis is sung by lyric tenor Mathias Vidal, who specialises in French and Italian roles. He clearly relishes this repertoire, and is well suited to Kornélis’s arias. He puts his sonorous tone to splendid use, with fine diction, projection and vitality. In the air J’aime, dans son lointain mystère (I love, in its different mystery) with its gently rocking accompaniment, Vidal increases the atmospheric mood as he extols to Léna the glories of Japan, a paradise he dreams of. Another highlight is the solo described as Kornélis’s vision: he drinks the potion and gazes at the portrait of Ming, imploring the image to come to life. At this key moment, Vidal provides all the necessary tenderness and a heartfelt sincerity.

Dutch soprano Judith van Wanroij is a convincing Léna. I have encountered her previously in mainly French Baroque opera including Lemoyne’s Phèdre on Bru Zane (review). She sings with plenty of character the air Outsou Sémisi Kamini when Léna finds a poem that Kornélis wrote to Ming. In her high range, Wanroij’s tone hardens slightly; I generally prefer a warmer soprano tone. In the second air Je faisais un rêve insensé (I was dreaming a foolish dream), there is suitable emotion and a pleasing honesty as Léna realises that Kornélis has fallen in love with a portrait.

Another highlight is the delightful and affecting duet Ah! Quel nuage d’or s’ouvre (Ah! what a golden cloud). Drugged, Kornélis believes that Léna is Ming who has come to life, and expresses his love. An unnamed women’s vocal ensemble adds to the mood: they sing a short passage in Japanese, just once.

The narrator is the soprano, and a French native speaker, Anaïs Constans. (Spoken word has been omitted in the Chandos recording of La Princesse jaune from 1996 at Lugano with soloists Carlo Allemano and Maria Costanza Nocentini and the Orchestra della Svizzera italiana under Francis Travis – review.)

A yearning for oriental and exotic vistas continues in Saint-Saëns’s six Mélodies persanes (Persian Melodies). Late 19th-century Parnassian poet Armand Renaud was attracted to Persian and Japanese verse. His collection of poems Les Nuits persanes (Persian Nights) was published in 1870. It is easy to imagine how Renaud’s verse would have inspired Saint-Saëns; that same year he set six of the poems for voice and piano. In 1891 he orchestrated Mélodies persanes for solo voices, chorus and orchestra. He also took the opportunity to ‘reorganise’ them into a Symphonic Ode or Cantata with the title Nuits persane by connecting the orchestral songs with “orchestral preludes and transitions and added a spoken narration with passages of melodrama”.

Bru Zane presents a new version, which strips away the choral contribution but adds an orchestral prelude and interlude taken from Nuits persane. It has been decided here to allocate a different soloist to each mélodie. I definitely respond to the exotic tone-pictures in this new guise. I savour Renaud’s imaginative if flowery text and the composer’s glorious setting. A stand-out: La Brise (The Breeze) sung by Philippe Estèphe in a hearty, rich-toned baritone; one relishes the exotic rhythms as the girl gives the sultan a special dance watched by the eunuch. Another highlight: the exquisitely beautiful Au cimetière (In the graveyard) sung by Anaïs Constans; she demonstrates her accomplished high register and produces a meaningful expression as the protagonist sitting at the warrior’s grave.

Leo Hussain conducts the Orchestre national du Capitole de Toulouse. They play impressively, with a fine balance between accuracy and expression. There also are a number of outstanding solo contributions. As shown on a promo video clip, the studio sessions at the Halle aux Grains in Toulouse were made under Covid-19 protocols: face masks when appropriate, social distancing and so on. No problems whatsoever with the satisfying recorded studio sound. As one has come to expect from the Bru Zane Opéra français series, the presentation of this CD-book maintains the label’s highest standards. The hardback book in French and English contains the full opera libretto, synopsis and four valuable essays, plus the texts of the Mélodies persanes.

I had been unsure of Louis Gallet’s libretto with just two characters. Yet La Princesse jaune has far exceeded my expectations. In a performance as notable as this, Saint-Saëns’s short opéra-comique is highly recommended, and the glorious Mélodies persanes are a bonus.

-- MusicWeb International

How about a trip back to the Annees Folles in the company of Sacha Guitry? With this musical comedy composed by Reynaldo Hahn, which was a triumph for Arletty, the Palazzetto Bru Zane reveals the hectic adventures of the hatter Prosper Aubertin. He dreams of extramarital adventures, but among the replies to the classified ad he places, how surprised he is to discover letters from his wife, his daughter and his maid! The piece was Guitry’s second collaboration with Hahn. ‘What [else] do you need to be happy?’ as the chambermaid asks in Act Three? Veronique Gens bubbling with mischief, and the Orchestre National d’Avignon dynamised by the conducting of Samuel Jean.

It was around 1825 that Louise Bertin, pupil of Reicha and friend of Berlioz, tackled the subject of Faust with all the energy and confidence of a young woman of twenty. She entirely exceeded the public’s expectations and won over the critics with her daring. Colourful orchestration, charming cantabiles, vigorous choruses – everything seemed to promise the work would enter the repertory. But the closure of the Théâtre-Italien after just three performances in 1831 decided otherwise, and the score languished in the vaults of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France for 190 years. The leading role, conceived for the mezzo-soprano Rosmunda Pisaroni, was finally created by the tenor Domenico Donzelli. In this complete recording with period instruments, Christophe Rousset presents the work in its original form, which has never been heard before, even in the composer's lifetime. Once again, Les Talens Lyriques and the Palazzetto Bru Zane join forces in an adventurous French operatic rediscovery.

REVIEW:

Limelight Magazine Recording of the Month, May 2024

“Mademoiselle Louise Bertin, the daughter of the proprietor of the Journal des Débats, and sister of its chief editor, has been remarkably successful, both in literature and music. She is one of the ablest women of our time. Her musical talent, to my mind, is rather rational than emotional; but it is a real talent notwithstanding.” That’s Berlioz in his Mémoires, responding to criticisms of his boss’ daughter’s fourth and final opera La Esmeralda (based on Notre Dame de Paris; Bertin was the only composer with whom Victor Hugo ever collaborated).

As Berlioz makes clear, she had to struggle with not just the usual prejudice against a female composer but with those who wanted to knock her powerful family connections. The result: in 1836 she abandoned opera for good. It’s often been assumed that Berlioz was being paid to be kind, but with Fausto, the latest release from Palazetto Bru Zane, we have ample proof that Bertin was a force to be reckoned with.

She was just 20, when in 1825 she began working up Goethe’s masterwork into an Italian opera semiseria. Fausto, to her own libretto, was meant to premiere in 1830, but unforeseen complications meant it didn’t reach the stage until 1831. Bad notices and the closure of the Théâtre-Italien condemned it to just three performances. Intriguingly, the title role was conceived for the mezzo-soprano Rosmunda Pisaroni but ended up being sung by the tenor Domenico Donzelli. In this recording, with period instruments, Christophe Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques present the work in its original form, and it’s an absolute cracker. Despite its Italian title, Fausto is more Weber than Rossini, although there are clear bel canto elements here and there. The orchestrations are highly original for its day – snipers in 1836 accused Berlioz of having written parts of La Esmerelda – and the dramatic effects are bold, sometimes startlingly so. Listen to the percussive wallop which kicks off the lengthy overture. Or the striking Gothic excesses as Fausto seals the pact with Mefistofele. There’s no shortage of good tunes either, with Margarita in particular getting some real charmers.

Dramaturgically, there are one or two missteps – Margarita asking the elderly Fausto to heal Catarina delays the devil’s arrival, and the final trio peters out (one suspects that Bertin might have fixed that if she’d ever had the chance). Otherwise, a good stage director could do something with the opera, not to mention singers with three meaty parts on offer.

The cast here is outstanding. French mezzo-soprano Karine Deshayes hurls herself fearlessly at Fausto’s challenging lines (the role is often high). The voice is bright and flexible, and she conveys the doctor’s mixture of ardent determination, despair and desperation. Canadian soprano Karina Gauvin may not sound the innocent victim, but her Margarita is beautifully sung and full of fire. The voice is luscious with first-rate diction. Croatian bass Ante Jerkunica is a sonorous Mefistofele with plenty of personality (though the role could use an aria or two). Nico Darmanin displays a bright, thrilling tenor as Margarita’s brother Valentino (his military aria, drums and horns popping, is a bel canto bombshell), and Marie Gautrot is ripe and characterful as the elderly Catarina. Best of all is Rousset who delivers a high-octane account of this remarkably original score. Not only does he bring it to life with judicious pacing and a winning flexibility, he draws out the unique textures of Bertin’s orchestrations with a sensitive ear for colour.

Les Talens Lyriques play like demons. Period strings are full of bite, while the individual timbres of wind, brass and percussion combine to create delicate and dramatic textures. Beautiful recording in vivid, in your face sound, and smartly documented, Fausto is more than just an intriguing rediscovery. It makes you long to hear La Esmerelda, by all accounts a more mature work and with a Victor Hugo libretto no less.

-- Limelight (Clive Paget)

Many Romantic composers owe their fame to one of their symphonic poems. Alongside acknowledged French masterpieces in the genre, the fifteen tracks presented here include four previously unrecorded works and several rarities by women composers. The Orchestre National de Lyon, a great champion of French Romantic music, offers a palette of shimmering colours under the baton of Nikolaj Szeps-Znaider as it relates in music the legend of Merlin the Magician, the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty and the misadventures of the Sorcerer’s Apprentice.

‘It would be difficult to find a simpler and more poignant subject’, Massenet remarked during the composition of Ariane, a vast score in five acts premiered at the Paris Opéra in October 1906. The libretto by Catulle Mendès is part ancient drama, part symbolist poem, and sets Phaedra and Ariadne, two sisters in love with Theseus, in violent conflict with each other. This epic work does not shrink from relating the combat against the Minotaur, from showing a ship tossed by the raging billows, nor even from transporting the audience to the Underworld where Persephone reigns. Despite its flamboyant orchestration, its grandiose scenography and its triumphant premiere, Ariane remains one of the few Massenet operas never recorded until now. The young Egyptian soprano Amina Edris takes the title role with ardour and passion, surrounded by a cast well versed in the specificities of the French style. The Bavarian Radio Chorus provides dedicated support in the epic scenes, under the baton of Laurent Campellone, a great champion of Massenet.

The injustices of history are made to be redressed. Here a cast of international singers, under the dynamic direction of Gergely Madaras, devotes itself with conviction to the task of reviving one of the forgotten glories of French Romantic opera. Hulda, completed in 1885, was never staged in César Franck’s lifetime. This gory medieval legend recounts the multiple acts of vengeance its heroine inflicts on the Aslak clan, which slaughtered her family, and on her unfaithful lover Eiolf. The ferocious performance of American soprano Jennifer Holloway in the title role is matched by the sinister presentiments of her French colleague Véronique Gens and the tender outbursts of Dutch soprano Judith van Wanroij. Although the imaginary Norwegian setting brings Wagner to mind, Franck continues the tradition of French grand-opéra while adopting the contemporary Verdian idiom. The intensity of the action is reflected in harmonic and instrumental experiments that place Franck in the forefront of the modernists of his time. The inventiveness of the ballet is matched only by the splendour of the choral writing. How could such a masterpiece have languished in oblivion for so long? Quite simply, because it was deliberately buried by Franck's pupils, who preferred to keep for themselves the glory of personifying the French operatic revival.

Guilty of allowing the sacred fire to go out while declaring her love to the general Licinius, the Vestal Virgin Julia is sentenced to be buried alive. But her execution is averted by a divine intervention, which rekindles the altar flame and absolves the victim. The simple plot of Gaspare Spontini’s La Vestale achieved resounding success in 1807 thanks to the highly skilled treatment of the characters’ psychology and the transparency of the political allusions – Licinius is an allegory of Napoleon Bonaparte himself. Yet the work is more than a mere piece of propaganda: it represents one of the links between the tragédie lyrique of the Ancien Régime and the future grand opéra à la française, even anticipating Bellinian bel canto. The opera’s focal point is the character of Julia, which requires an exceptional soprano to do it justice. After the creator, Caroline Branchu – whom Berlioz described as ‘operatic tragedy incarnate’ – and Maria Callas at La Scala in 1954, Marina Rebeka takes on in masterly fashion a role that seems tailor-made for her impressive vocal resources, supported by the energy and precision of the period instruments of Les Talens Lyriques under Christophe Rousset. The result is genuinely revelatory.