Premiered at the Opera-Comique in Paris on 26 January 1857, Ambroise Thomas's Psyche tells the story of the ill-starred love between Eros and Psyche, who are manipulated by the cynical Mercury and envied by Daphne and Berenice, the heroine's own sisters. The style of the work represents the nec plus ultra of mid-nineteenth-century French opera-comique, notably in the Italianate influence of Rossini, which gives the singers of the two leading roles - one of which, Eros, is a breeches part for mezzo-soprano - a chance to glitter amid torrents of coloratura poured forth in impressive, passionate love duets. The librettists Jules Barbier and Michel Carre achieved an inspired blend of comedy and tragedy by contrasting a quartet of cruel and grotesque characters (Psyche's sisters and their suitors) with the noble hero and heroine. Ambroise Thomas's music does not merely foreshadow the future triumphs of Mignon and Hamlet: it is worthy to stand beside them at the pinnacle of his operatic legacy, as his obituarists declared. This recording confirms their judgment.

'No!' exclaims Nunciata, the stubborn Corsican grandmother, when she is begged to put an end to the vendetta between her family, the Fabiani, and their enemies, the Pietra Nera clan. Set against a backdrop of tragic deaths, voracious lust for vengeance and passionate love at the height of the Napoleonic Wars, this 'lyric drama' composed by Saint-Saens in 1906 was premiered at the Opera de Monte-Carlo and dedicated to Prince Albert I, who had commissioned it. Saint-Saens demonstrates here the full range of his style, interweaving Debussyan chords, melodic lines a la Massenet and aggressive rhythms worthy of Prokofiev. Above all, he displays a feel for the theatre eminently characteristic of French opera, and one can only imagine how successful this score would be if it found it's way back onto the stage. It was not without reason that after it's triumphant premiere in Monte Carlo, L'Ancetre was staged in several cities in France, Belgium, Switzerland and Germany, as well as Algiers (February 1911) and Cairo (February 1912), before two further performances in March 1915 in the theatre where it had come into existence.

In the kingdom of Cornouaille on the Breton coast, the war between Prince Karnac and the inhabitants of the town of Ys is finally coming to an end. The condition of the peace treaty is that Karnac will marry Princess Margared. But her love for Mylio, who is betrothed to her sister Rozenn, will provoke a terrible tidal wave fomented by her thirst for revenge. Edouard Lalo found an inspiring libretto here, which he handled with a sense of theatrical urgency rarely achieved. The characters live out their passions, supported by vehement, colourful orchestration. The role of Margared, in particular, deserves to be numbered among the most successful in French Romantic opera. First performed in Paris in 1888, the work scored a triumph that was repeated at every revival in the provinces and abroad. Though barely two hours long, it teems with dramatic situations: Breton festivals, the supernatural appearance of Saint Corentin, a wedding accompanied by the organ, a tidal wave whose tumultuous billows are rendered to great effect. Le Roi d'Ys amply merited an ambitious staging at the Paris Opera, which it was unfortunately denied in Lalo's lifetime.

No, Georges Bizet was not only the composer of Carmen, the French opera most frequently performed around the world. In a career spanning less than twenty years, he produced works in every genre: orchestral music, piano pieces, cantatas, operas, songs and more besides. He showed an early mastery of orchestration, and was soon able to give free rein to his taste for orientalism and folklore. This portrait offers a chance to discover works that were never performed during his lifetime, indeed some which had to wait until 2024 for their premiere. Of particular note is the 'ode-symphony' Vasco de Gama, which illustrates the Romantic taste for vast historical epics, and Le Retour de Virginie, a cantata for the Prix de Rome presented by the composer to his teacher in 1855. Piano music and melodies remind us that Bizet was also a sought-after salon composer, whose talent posterity has consecrated in songs like La Coccinelle and Les Adieux de l'h�tesse arabe.

Carmen, the most famous heroine of Romantic opera, has never been so moving and rebellious as in the historical staging of 1875, whose flamboyant Spanishry is brought back to life here with the help of unpublished archive material.

Paris discovered Massenet's Griselidis at the Opera-Comique on 20 November 1901. The work is based on a medieval folktale retold by Boccaccio and Perrault, among others, and already set to music several times in the Baroque era. It gave Massenet the opportunity to handle the 'Gothic' colouring of which the early twentieth century could not get enough. The inventive libretto by Armand Silvestre and Eugene Morand explores unusually contrasted registers: the religious, the fantastical, the sentimental and the warlike. Above all, the presence of a scene-stealing Devil, saddled with a cantankerous wife, offers the possibility of contrasting the serious (or sublime) and the comic (or grotesque). Massenet thus produced a rare example of cross-genre equilibrium, a jewel of French demi-caractere, typical of the Opera-Comique repertory. Although the opera renounces spoken dialogue, theatrical declamation nevertheless creeps into a few particularly successful scenes. Two magnificent baritone roles - the Marquis and the Devil - oppose each other with the full trappings of Romantic vocality, while Griselidis makes a noble and introspective heroine, the perfect model of the French soprano.

Offenbach’s La Périchole (1868) will never cease to delight music lovers of all persuasions. Marc Minkowski – long one of the composer’s prophets – was keen to pay tribute to him with this world premiere recording on period instruments, in the company of the young school of French singers, including the bewitching Aude Extrémo, the dashing Stanislas de Barbeyrac and the hilarious Alexandre Duhamel. Combining fashionable rhythms with the most unexpected touches of folklore, the score is a veritable flood of hit numbers. How can one not be swept away by the insolence of the Seguidilla, the frenzy of the Bolero or the furious rhythm of the Prison Trio? Never before, perhaps, had Offenbach gone so far in caricaturing political leaders – nor used drunkenness to resolve the imbroglio of inextricable sentimental relationships. And indeed, the ‘Tipsy Arietta’ is one of the composer's best-known numbers. Cheers!

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REVIEW:

Bru Zane continues its French Opera series with Offenbach’s La Périchole, an opéra bouffe in three acts.

Offenbach enjoyed great success in 1867; he had productions showing at four Parisian theatres the year before completing La Périchole. Yet in May 1868 the tide was turning. Le château à Toto was unsuccessful, and a revival of Le pont des soupirs failed to inspire. Later in the year came the premières of opéra bouffes L'île de Tulipatan and La Périchole, neither of which kept a hold on the repertory. In 1874, for the revival of La Périchole, Offenbach revised the score considerably: three acts instead the original two acts. It was in this revised form that La Périchole has found favour with audiences.

In La Périchole there are the usual antics so typical of an opéra bouffe, including disguise, mix-ups, mistaken identity and comic twists. La Périchole and her lover Piquillo are a pair of Peruvian street singers who cannot afford a marriage license. Don Andrès de Ribeira, a lecherous Viceroy of Peru, wants La Périchole as his mistress, and makes her his lady-in-waiting. Piquillo, also employed in the Viceroy’s household, marries the veiled La Périchole without knowing it is she. Piquillo gets thrown into prison but the end results in an unexpected pardon from the Viceroy; the lovers are reunited.

Music director Marc Minkowski has conducted both versions of La Périchole. For the Opéra National de Bordeaux production recorded here, he has assembled a mixed version based on the original 1868 score and parts of the 1874 revision. This release was recorded at live performances of stage director Romain Gilbert’s production. Minkowski conducted Les Musiciens du Louvre who are thirty-six strong and use period instruments. Although it surely applies to all audio recordings of live performances to a lesser or greater degree, having seen a brief clip of the show I think the dramatic impact of La Périchole is especially diminished by not seeing the actual performance. Nevertheless, there is still much pleasure to be gained from this recording. The three principal characters – La Périchole, Piquillo and Don Andrès – are very well cast, with French-language singers.

Tenor Stanislas de Barbeyrac throws himself wholeheartedly into the role of Piquillo. A highlight is the brief Rondo de bravoure - Écoute, ô roi, je te présente, where Piquillo presents La Périchole to Don Andrès. This splendid example of Barbeyrac’s theatricalit, demonstrates his vocal clarity and projection, his high notes achieved comfortably. As femme fatale La Périchole, the rich-toned mezzo-soprano of Aude Extrémo projects well, with a first-class level of expression – although her voice does not always have the smoothest delivery. La Périchole’s renowned ‘Tipsy’ arietta - Ah! quel dîner je viens de faire!’ is a success. I wish I could have seen it. Best of all is her ‘Letter’ arioso to Piquillo - Ô mon cher amant, je te jur. The mezzo tenderly reflects how it would be better to separate owing to their poverty and list of misfortunes. It is hard to forget the distinction of Régine Crespin’s rendition of the ‘Letter’ arioso on her 1971 release ‘Prima Donna in Paris’ on Decca.

Alexandre Duhamel as Viceroy Don Andrès gives a creditable performance although it is more of an acting role. Note the ‘Incognito’ song with chorus Sans en rien souffler à personne where Viceroy goes out on the town in disguise. Duhamel is in secure voice, with impressive diction and strong expression. Of the hit numbers, one notes La Périchole and Piquillo’s Le conquérant dit à la jeune Indienne, a foot-tapping ballad with its extremely catchy tune. For the same reasons, I also relish the couple’s rendition of the celebrated Séguedille - Vous a-t-on dit souvent. Minkowski favours swift speeds. He draws a strong and expressive performance from Les Musiciens du Louvre. On occasions, within all the spirited playing there is some slight untidness but nothing too distracting. The Chœur de L’Opéra National de Bordeaux is hard to fault. They give a strong performance throughout under chorus master Alphonse Cemin.

The sound has clarity, and is well balanced. Not surprisingly, there is some miscellaneous stage noise, and applause after some arias and at the end of each act, but it is not a problem. It serves to add to the live atmosphere.

As we have come to expect from this Bru Zane French Opera series, there is a 168-page hardback book with a full French libretto and an English translation. Four informative and well written essays are also included, as is a synopsis and full cast and track listing. My only grumble is wanting the track listing to contain the page number of its place in the libretto.

There are several studio recordings of La Périchole in the catalogue. My first choice remains the 1977 Strasbourg recording on Erato, featuring Régine Crespin, Alain Vanzo and Jules Bastin, conducted by Alain Lombard. Originally, I had the Erato release on vinyl. It is worth knowing that the performance has no spoken dialogue. I find this Minkowski recording of La Périchole tremendously entertaining from start to finish, and I wish I had been in the Bordeaux audience. A fitting tribute in Offenbach’s 200th anniversary year.

– MusicWeb International (Michael Cookson)

‘To have written that, you must be a poet’, Massenet told Reynaldo Hahn when he read through the score of L’Île du rêve. Composed when the young man was not yet eighteen years old, this ‘curtain-raiser’ already had the qualities of the great works of the period. It reveals the coloristic talents of Bizet, the passionate outbursts of Massenet and even the prosodic originality of the young Debussy. The plot recounts a French naval officer’s love affair with a young Polynesian girl he has to abandon. This subject- also treated musically by Puccini (Madama Butterfly) and Delibes (Lakme)- is approached in an almost Symbolist style: the Romanticism of the music contrasts with a contemplative, introspective treatment of the narration. This is where the youthful Hahn particularly shines: in the very first bars (the hymn to Bora-Bora), in the various love scenes for Loti and Mahenu (notably the duet ‘Restons encore les paupieres mi-closes’) and even in the neo-Handelian prelude to Act Two.

Gifted with a strong temperament and a curious nature, Fernand de La Tombelle is a highly appealing and interesting figure among French Romantic composers. He left a substantial �uvre, protean, stylistically eclectic, even atypical, that deserves reassessment not only for it's own merits, but also because it illustrates a certain form of social and artistic activity in France at the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. This new album-book in the Palazzetto Bru Zane's 'Portraits' series reveals the multiple facets of a captivating personality, ranging from orchestral music with operatic overtones through introspective chamber works to choral music recalling the Renaissance madrigal. The sublime Fantaisie for piano and orchestra would suffice on it's own to demonstrate the quality of La Tombelle's inspiration. To champion his cause as it deserves, this set calls on no fewer than fourteen soloists, along with orchestra, chorus and conductor.

'The rehearsals for La Vie parisienne are almost driving me insane', wrote librettist Ludovic Halevy a few days before the work's first performance. The artists of the Palais-Royal company were struggling with some of the musical numbers Offenbach had written for them. Under pressure, composer and librettists had to simplify, cut, rewrite and sometimes even abandon some of their most successful inspirations. The international success of the final score soon ensured the hundreds of pages reluctantly deleted by Offenbach were well and truly forgotten. Now the research of the Palazzetto Bru Zane team has uncovered all this musical material, making it possible to present the world premiere recording. Listeners can now enjoy a delightful Diplomatic Trio, a Seduction Quintet, a Roadsweeper's Song, an air for Urbain, the Fabliau of the Baroness, and more. The team of fourteen soloists assembled under the baton of Romain Dumas benefits from the glittering sonorities of the Orchestre National du Capitole de Toulouse, which previously recorded Offenbach's 'other' Vie parisienne back in... 1976.

According to Berlioz, Spontini was – after Gluck – the greatest genius of French music to pave the way for the Romantic era. And it may well be that the little-known Olympie, premiered in 1819 and subsequently revived in 1826 under the modified title Olimpie, had a greater influence than we have hitherto imagined on the massive upheaval that was to set French opera on the path of the modern ‘grand opéra’. From start to finish, this finely polished score, with its astonishing orchestration, is full of spectacular effects that clearly look forward to Les Troyens of Berlioz. The omnipresence of a huge chorus, the valiant vocal writing for Antigonus, the pathos of the role of Statira (conceived for Caroline Branchu, then at the peak of her career): all the ingredients were there to make a powerful impact on listeners such as Berlioz, who was moved to tears. Here, undoubtedly, is one of the first epic canvases of the nineteenth century.

After Polyeucte (1878), Gounod tackled the operatic genre for the last time in 1881 with what is probably his most ambitious work, Le Tribut de Zamora. The action takes place in ninth-century Spain – from Act Two onwards, on ‘a picturesque site on the banks of the Guadalquivir before Córdoba’. Here Gounod – finally noted more for his neoclassical pastiches (Le Médecin malgré lui and Cinq-Mars) and his ardent Romanticism (Faust and Roméo et Juliette) – was given an opportunity to display his talents as an orchestrator and colorist in an exotic setting. He produced an epic in the tradition of French grand opéra, with numerous ensembles and showpiece airs. Despite an unequivocal success on its first run, despite the stirring national anthem ‘Debout! Enfants de l’Ibérie’, Le Tribut de Zamora sank into oblivion within a few short years. We can now appreciate in this opera precisely what certain detractors complained of at the time: the fact that we meet here once again the irresistible lyricism of Faust and Roméo et Juliette.

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REVIEW:

This is a pitch-perfect reading of a colorful score, with just the right degree of dramatic punch. As Xaïma, Judith van Wanroij is a natural-voiced, old-fashioned soubrette with excellent diction. She’s well paired with Edgaras Montvidas who sings Manoël with a passionate and slightly plangent tone. Even better are Greek baritone Tassis Christoyannis and the American mezzo Jennifer Holloway in the more complex roles of Ben-Saïd and Hermosa. Bru Zane have restored some wonderful music in recent years, but this superbly recorded toe-tapper is a treat, even by their standards.

– Limelight Magazine (AUS)

Saint-Saëns’s first opera, Le Timbre d’argent – initially composed in 1864 – need not fear comparison with some of the most celebrated works in the nineteenth-century French repertory. It depicts the nightmare of a man whose hallucinations anticipate by twenty years the fantastical apparitions of Offenbach’s Les Contes d’Hoffmann. A manipulative diabolical figure gives the hero a silver bell that he must ring to obtain the gold that will enable him to gain the love of the beautiful Circé; in exchange, a supposedly random victim must perish. But first Conrad’s father-in-law, then his best friend are the ones to die. The flashback that resolves the drama already prefigures the cinematic devices of the following century. Le Timbre d’argent is presented here in its final version, dating from 1914, the last of ten revisions over a period of almost fifty years. The dynamic conducting of François-Xavier Roth and the exceptionally precise and fiery performance of the period-instrument orchestra Les Siècles demonstrate that Saint-Saëns was doubtless right to persist in considering the work as one of his masterpieces.

‘There is more Spain in Offenbach’s brain than in Spain itself’, said a journalist entranced by Maître Péronilla. Understandably so, given the charm and humor of this operetta in which no fewer than twenty-two characters are kept busy unravelling a preposterously complicated love story. And the libretto is all the better for having been penned by the composer himself. Castanets, tambourines and triangle merrily punctuate one of Offenbach’s last scores, which multiplies impressive vocal ensembles while not renouncing intimate numbers of great poetry. Our world premiere recording features specialists of this repertory such as Éric Huchet and Loïc Félix, but also opera singers more unexpected in this context – including Véronique Gens – who audibly delight in letting their hair down in such joyful company, ably supported by the talents of the Orchestre National de France and the Chœur de Radio France.

Massenet's Werther is one of those masterpieces that were rejected or shunned at the time of their creation. Sketched in the 1880s, the score was turned down by the director of the Opera-Comique and had to make do with a premiere in German, far from Paris, before finally being heard in Paris in 1893. It gradually established itself as one of the composer's most personal works, in which he showed himself to be as fine a colourist as he was a master of the art of the 'motif de rappel'. In adapting Goethe's novel, Massenet and his librettists gave greater prominence to the character of Charlotte, thus placing the struggle between duty and passion at the centre of the narrative. The role of Werther, originally assigned to a tenor, was also sung by the baritone Mattia Battistini with the composer's approval. Provided the singer makes skilful use of voix mixte, this version gives the work a melancholy colouring ideal for portraying it's hero's suicidal temperament. Tassis Christoyannis follows this approach in exemplary fashion, opposite the reserved yet moving Charlotte of Veronique Gens. Both singers give the text the preponderant role allotted to it by French operatic tradition.