ROSSINI, SUPPE: OVERTURES BER

Feltsman sweeps through the 24 Preludes with genuine poetic bravura. ...[T]here is a daring and Romantic fire in the playing which only add to the agony of his plight...

-- Allan Ulrich, Los Angeles Times [7/27/1986]

Little did I know when in February I wrote about the Chandos version of this opera (ABR1019), based on an Adelaide Festival production, that an all-star recording, long needed, was so close at hand. That Australian version—John Culshaw's last production—had admirably clear recording as well as crisp orchestral playing, but it was seriously flawed in the singing. That alone would put the new CBS issue with its exceptionally strong trio of soloists into a different category, but the conducting of Lorin Maazel too transforms what I have always thought of as a piece too shortwinded dramatically, seriously lacking in detail of plot and characterization. Maazel with his incisive manner, which yet allows more rubato and more expressiveness than in some of his earlier Puccini recordings for CBS, makes one think of that shortwindedness as economy, a refreshing directness in telling the bald story (parallel with Giselle) of the girl who dies of love and as a spirit in the Black Forest clasps back her faithless (if repentant) lover in death. Here in other words, as Puccini's first operatic essay (in its final revision) is a piece which encapsulates a whole love affair within an hour, concentrating only on bare essentials.

Admirable as the orchestral ensemble was in the Chandos version, the playing of the National Philharmonic here is far subtler with the sharp syncopations characteristic of the piece (particularly in the cross-rhythms of the dances of the spirits, "La tregenda") punched home with much more bite. Maazel is excellent too in drawing out the individuality of the soloists without allowing self-indulgent phrasing of the kind which consistently marred the Australian performance. In Adelaide the soloists tried to make up for their vocal shortcomings by adopting an exaggeratedly grand manner, and the ease and assurance of Scotto, Domingo and Nucci here, as well as their vocal richness, transforms each Puccinian melody. The tunes still often sound more like Mascagni than genuine Puccini, but in this performance at least I find they catch readily in the mind, above all the love duet theme of the first scene which returns, suitably elaborated, at the beginning of the final duet when the spirit of Anna, the heroine, has declared that she is no longer love but revenge.

Though Scotto's voice as usual these days tends to spread at the top of the stave, this is one of the richest and warmest performances I have heard from her for some time, while Domingo as Roberto, rich and firm, manages to bring out the attractive anticipations of Des Grieux's music in Manon Lescaut. Leo Nucci as the hero's father avoids false melodrama in the set-piece aria of Act 2 immediately after the central symphonic interlude, with characteristic tone rather like Cappuccilli's. And if all this was not commendation enough, there is a delightful vignette from Tito Gobbi resonantly speaking the verses (omitted from the Chandos version) which come as a melodrama over the Prelude to Act 2 and then immediately before "La tregenda". The recording, not so sharply detailed as the Australian one, is yet far more spaciously atmospheric, with the chorus—the Ambrosians in excellent, incisive form—far more convincingly placed, not least in the eerie off-stage passages. I now want to see Le villi given on stage in a performance of comparable quality.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [5/1981]

Nowhere is Weill's stature as one of the towering geniuses of twentieth-century musical theatre more evident than here.

Twenty-three years on I still vividly remember the impact of Andrew Porter's review of this recording when it first appeared as a special-order import. It portrayed a remarkable work unlike anything that I had experienced before; but subsequent familiarity with the recording, together with productions at Sadler's Wells in 1963, on BBC TV in 1965 and at Oxford in 1966 confirmed a fascination that it still has for me today. Weill's stature as one of the towering geniuses of twentieth-century musical theatre is confirmed with every work of his that I hear (as witness the recent Street Scene at the Royal Academy of Music), but nowhere is it more evident than here in this, his musically most extended collaboration with Brecht.

What ensures this recording its place as a unique document is the presence of the composer's widow, Lotte Lenya, in the cast. But it is on any count an impressive achievement, with some excellent performances—above all from Gisela Litz as Widow Begbick. At the same time, as I wrote when the recording came up for review again ten years ago, it needs not just Lenya's vivid presence but a real soprano to encompass the original vocal line and bring out the lyricism of the role of Jenny. Also, of course, it is only a mono recording, albeit respectably cleaned up in this electronically reprocessed version. I wrote ten years ago that it would be good to look forward to a new stereo Mahagonny, and I would repeat that now with the substitution of 'digital' for 'stereo'. But the prospect is perhaps no brighter now than it was then, so that I can only urge those who have missed the recording previously to catch up with it now. CBS supply a libretto, which thus enables listeners to know just what is going on. This is a recording which is a unique and fascinating document of a unique and fascinating work.

-- Gramophone [11/1983]

...[T]here is still the...craggy splendour of the Serkin. The Serkin has a fill-up, 11 Bagatelles, finely played. The sound is relatively hard and it has not been possible, I fear, to remove from the final pages of the Diabelli a strange and persistent off-stage noise, possibly mechanical but sounding like the repeated cry of an aggrieved bird. "Healthy, unaffected, dryly energetic", is how Tovey characterizes Diabelli's waltz theme, and that is the way Serkin plays it at the start of performance that is lofty, severe and always dramatically keen-edged. In the humorous variations, Serkin is fierce and sardonic, as Brendel used to be. He is even at times a touch brutal; but this is not the fascist brutality of the jackboot in the face. As ever with this great pianist's Beethoven it is the elemental sound of the anvil at work in the musical forge.

-- Gramophone [8/1990]

One wonders whether there will ever be a falling-off in the apparently insatiable desire of conductors and the record companies to give us yet more versions of these admittedly beautiful orchestral pieces by a French master; and one marvels too at the presumably similar appetite for this repertory on the part of the record-buying public, for whom Ravel now appears to be the classical composer par excellence in the way that Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninov were two generations ago.

Still, there is room for a new issue of this quality. Michael Tilson Thomas brings a clear affection to the music but stops the right side of wearing his heart on his sleeve, so that phrases are caressed, not least in Ma mere l'oye, with a certain pudeur. In this work tempos are sometimes leisurely—the conversation between Beauty and the Beast is a minute slower than Abbado's more flowing performance for DG, but if this arguably brings a gain in expressive depth I am less attracted by a Rapsodie espagnole that feels self conscious and in which each movement lasts significantly longer than with Abbado. Still, here and elsewhere the LSO play most responsively; the Bolero is reliably exciting and the orchestral transcription of the Pike en forme de habanero (the one rarity here, with John Harle as the expressive saxophonist) is delightful.

-- Gramophone [5/1989]

CABALLÈ SINGS WAGNER

For those who specifically want a CD of trio sonatas by J. S. Bach & Sons and who prefer stylish playing on modern instruments to the extremes of unabashed Romanticizing or outand-out authenticity, this may be an attractive prospect. As MM observed, the Sonata by Carl Philipp Emanuel is particularly fine, and the unfinished Larghetto of Wilhelm Friedemann's is distinctly haunting.

Jean-Pierre Rampal's flute sound falls gratefully on the ear, more so than the harpsichord continuo or than Isaac Stern's violin. The latter has a slightly fierce, synthetic quality which negates the many sensitive touches in the playing. On CD at least balance is less sympathetic to the flute in the J. S. and C. P. E. works than in Johann Christoph Friedrich's Sonata, whose galante charms are helped along by an attractive fortepiano continuo.

-- Gramophone [11/1985]

PUCCINI: EDGAR QUELER, SCOTTO

The insert does not include liner notes.

RAVEL: BOLERO, ALBORADA DEL GR

Szell proves a convivial, alert partner in the First Concerto, providing deft touches that lift this account above the ordinary. Listen, for instance, to the syncopated brass figure beneath the apotheosis of the last movement's second subject. If Graffman eschews the demonic brilliance of Horowitz, his reading is all about Tchaikovsky.

-- Gramophone [1/2006, reviewing Sony 94737]

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Graffman's clear and straightforward pianism stands out for its bigness, presence, and authority. I especially love his feathery scintillation in the slow movement's scampering central interlude, and the lyrical reserve he brings to the opening movement's extensive unaccompanied solos.

-- Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com [reviewing Sony 94737]

LEONARD BERNSTEIN: THE ENCORE

BARTOK: CONCERTO FOR ORCHESTRA

"Well used as I am to the positive advantages of CD over LP equivalents, the gains here more than usual have me revelling in the extra vividness, immediacy and sense of presence. The sweetness, charm and sparkle of a piece still underestimated come over in a way that positively make me want to go on listening. The absence of background here allows the precise placing of voices to be appreciated the more—important when the opening scene and the whole of Act 2 involve potentially confusing groups of soloists — and Puccini's use of special effects, off-stage voices, voices going into the distance, spoken lines, the piano for "11 sogno di Doretta" in Act 1, all come over with extraordinary precision and realism. The subtlety of Puccini's orchestration too is beautifully caught, and the voices — placed on a stage slightly in front of the orchestra — all have a bright face-to-face quality with even Mariana Nicolescu's vibrato less obtrusive than on LP. As for Dame Kiri, her voice has rarely sounded so ravishing. The casting of the second pair may not be ideal — David Rendall too young - sounding for Prunier and Nicolescu not sweet enough — but this certainly stands as one of Lorin Maazel's finest Puccini recordings."

-- Gramophone [10/1985]