A new recording by John Rutter and his Cambridge Singers is always welcome, and this one features 20 works drawn from the sacred choral repertoire of the Renaissance and Baroque. Most of these are motets and many are familiar (Palestrina's Sicut cervus and Exsultate Deo, Gabrieli's Jubilate Deo, Lassus' Timor et tremor, Josquin's Ave Maria) and all are included in Rutter's published anthology, European Sacred Music (Oxford). As Rutter states, the program's theme is to focus on the "wealth of sacred music...created in continental Europe out of the ferment of the age of Reformation", and while Rutter has chosen primarily works resulting from the "extraordinary flowering" of musical activity in the Catholic church during this period, we also are treated to a motet by Bach (O Jesu Christ, meins Lebens Licht BWV 118/231, often mis-classified as a cantata), a Magnificat (presumably) by Buxtehude, and a psalm (100) by Schütz.

Some listeners of course will disagree, but for me, the program's two longest pieces--Monteverdi's Beatus vir and the Buxtehude Magnificat--are the least interesting, the former's main thematic material formed primarily by repetitive scales and rudimentary harmony set to monotonous rhythm, the latter functional and pleasant enough but rather flat, undynamic, and static, a work that reminds us that just because a notable composer wrote (or may have written!) something and the score survived doesn't necessarily mean it's good or worthy of more than musicological interest.

No matter how you judge these two works, you'll be happy with the performances, which throughout this recording are at the high level we always expect from this choir and director: vibrant, articulate, carefully balanced, and always attentive to a given work's inherent expressive possibilities. And speaking of articulate, it's wonderful to hear the opening Jubilate Deo (a piece lovingly attempted and so often mangled by well-meaning choirs all over the world) sung with such clarity and agility, unrushed; likewise, Palestrina's sublime Sicut cervus is well-paced, each line given its due. Other highlights include the Ave Maria of Josquin (impressive intonation and sectional tone quality), Lassus' Ave verum corpus (those exquisitely sustained long lines!), and a curious--and quite beautiful--setting of Crux fidelis attributed to John IV, King of Portugal. The instrumental ensemble, the relatively "new" La Nuova Musica, is first-rate, its timbres adding textural variety and layers of color to nine of the selections. And completing the package is top-notch production and engineering by Simon Eadon, captured in the excellent acoustics of London's Great Hall of University College School. Needless to say: Highly recommended!

--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

VIVALDI Concertos for Various Instruments: RV 86 1 , 163, 271 2 , 312 3 , 445 4 , 482 5 , 500 6 , 526 7 , 530 8 ) • Adrian Chandler, dir 2,7,8 (vn); Pamela Thorby 1,3,4 (rcr); 1,5,6 Peter Whelan (bn); 7,8 Sara Deborah Struntz (vn); La Serenissima (period instruments) • AVIE AV 2201 (72:01)


One of the underlying motifs of this program seems to be Bohemia, which Vivaldi visited in 1730 and where he probably acquired the paper on which some of these concertos are written. This mixed program opens with what must be one of his briefest concertos, RV 163, in B?. Though under four minutes, and with no special solo instrument, it encompasses many of Vivaldi’s salient characteristics: a strong opening theme, a fine melody, and rhythmic surprise. This brief piece is called “Conca,” for reasons Adrian Chandler connects with a Bohemian use of the conch shell to ward off impending storm. The only storm in front of us here, however, is the pleasurable swirl of Vivaldi’s invention.


In 1727–28, Vivaldi wrote two sets of string concertos, both, in the end, called La Cetra (the lyre). One set was published in Amsterdam in 1727 as op. 9 and may have originally been intended for the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles VI, to whom, on a visit to Trieste in 1728, however, he personally gave a manuscript of a set of new concertos. Vivaldi may have been looking for a job, and the emperor was certainly interested, but nothing happened because the emperor died and Vivaldi, having moved to Vienna without a patron, died in poor straits. The ensemble plays one concerto from the published set (RV 530) and two from the manuscript (RV 526 and 271, of which the former had to be reconstructed by Chandler).


The remaining four concertos on this disc use bassoon and recorder for the concerted part. Two of these, however, are single-movement fragments (RV 482 and 312, the latter reconstructed by Chandler). There is also a “sonata” for recorder and bassoon (RV 86).


Numbering 19, La Serenissima is a fairly large band, as early instrumental ensembles go. This gives a pleasant and most-welcome heft to its sound. The soloists are all good and it would be invidious to single out one of them. This is Vivaldi at his most vivacious, but don’t overlook the rightly named “amorous” concerto (RV 271) from the 1728 manuscript with which the program ends. Anyone looking for an introduction to Vivaldi’s instrumental pieces other than The Four Seasons would do well to start here.


FANFARE: Alan Swanson

Ottorino Respighi's Roman Trilogy (the tone poems Pines of Rome, Fountains of Rome and Roman Festivals) holds a very special place in the orchestral repertory, challenging almost any other composition for sheer sonic audience appeal. Spectacular scenes such as Fontana di Trevi in the glitter of the mid-day sun, children playing under the pine-trees of the Villa Borghese or gladiators fighting at Circus Maximus provided the masterly orchestrator with the opportunity to employ the full palette of the large-scale symphony orchestra, to which he added various instruments, including organ, piano, celesta, glockenspiel, mandolin and tambourines. In fact, in the third part of the Pines of Rome Respighi went even further and specified, for the first time ever in classical music, the use of a gramophone, playing a recording of a nightingale singing. As a result, these works glitter, shimmer, blare and thunder: a true feast for the ear which here has found worthy exponents in the São Paulo Symphony Orchestra (OSESP) and John Neschling. Previous releases by this team include recordings of music by Villa-Lobos and his Brazilian colleagues Camargo Guarnieri, Francisco Mignone and Claudio Santoro, and individual discs have been described by reviewers as 'the most vibrant, colorful, rhythmically vital and virtuosic performances imaginable' (on website Classics Today.com), 'an orgy of colours and rhythms' (in Diapason), and 'an assured blend of lush colours, pulsating rhythms and supple phrasing' (in International Record Review.) Such qualities certainly work in the Old World, too - and nowhere better than in Ottorino Respighi's Rome!

REVIEW:

The São Paulo Symphony Orchestra is a superb ensemble by any standards, and displays their virtuosity in the three Respighi symphonic poems.

-- SA-CD.net

Ruggero Raimondi takes the lead role in this performance of Verdi's comic opera recorded at the Opera Royal de Wallonie in Liege, Belgium in 2009. Paolo Arrivabeni conducts. Falstaff, the lyric comedy was Giuseppe Verdi’s last opera. It is an operatic favorite, long admired by critics and opera goers alike because of its brilliant orchestration, scintillating libretto and refined melodies. This production recorded at the Opéra Royal de Wallonie in Liège, Belgium was staged by Stefano Poda and features the well known Italian Bass Ruggero Raimondi as the title-role. Directed by Stefano Poda. Starring Sabina Pu rtolas, Luca Salsi, Cinzia de Mola. Language: Italian Subtitles: English, French, Italian, German

A unique disc from one of Scotland's most dynamic and versatile groups – the Scottish Ensemble is a tight-knit band of outstanding string players from around Europe who perform regularly together under Artistic Director, Jonathan Morton. This disc – one of their first solo releases following acclaimed discs with artists such as Alison Balsom and Toby Spence – contrasts Vivaldi's timeless Four Seasons with Piazzolla's tango-inspired The Four Seasons of Buenos Aires.

Combining Vivaldi and Piazzola together like this underlines the meteorological and cultural differences between Mediterranean Europe and the heart of South America. To have them performed side by side creates a fascinating programme of similarities and contrasts.

Tancredi and L’Italiana in Algeri, Rossini’s tenth and eleventh operas, both premiered in Venice, launched the composer on an unstoppable career. They saw him become the most prestigious opera composer of his time. The formidable impresario Domenico Barbaja summoned Rossini to Naples and offered him the position of musical director of the city’s two Royal Theatres, the San Carlo and Fondo. Barbaja’s proposals appealed to Rossini for several reasons. Not only was his annual fee generous and guaranteed, but also the San Carlo had a professional orchestra, unlike the theatres of Venice and Rome. The composer also saw this as a considerable advantage as he aspired to push the boundaries of his opera composition in more adventurous directions. Under the terms of the contract, Rossini was to provide two operas each year for Naples whilst being permitted to compose occasional works for other cities. The composer tended to test the limits of this contract and in the first two years composed no fewer than five operas for other venues, including four for Rome.

Vivaldi: Orlando furioso Original recording reissued Antonio Vivaldi (Composer), Claudio Scimone (Conductor), I Solisti Veneti (Orchestra), Marilyn Horne (Performer Orlando), Victoria de los Angeles (Performer Angelica ), Lucia Valentini Terrani (Performer Alcina), Carmen Gonzales (Performer Bradamante ), Lajos Kozma (Performer Medoro), Sesto Bruscantini (Performer Ruggiero ), Nicola Zaccaria (Performer Astolfo) Lucia Valentini-Terrani, of course, is often considered a bridge performer between the old days and the new, and her performance here, though containing some touches now considered quaint, is close enough to the modern style to pass muster. As for Bruscantini, he was a famous buffo baritone known for rapid patter but not for Baroque music. He copes surprisingly well, not as scrupulous as the distaff side of the cast but still ably working his way through difficult runs and, yes, even a trill here and there. Horne sings through the first act with her usual flawless technique and impassioned, all-purpose energy, but toward the end of act II she suddenly erupts in dramatic outbursts. Where did that come from? And she continues to surprise with more dramatic outbursts in act III. Granted, she's not Janet Baker, but it's still better than average Horne.

IRMA GONZÁLEZ LIVE • Irma González (s); 1 Plácido Domingo, 2 Giuseppe di Stefano, 5 Jon Vickers (tn); 3 Oralia Dominguez, 4 Aurora Woodrow (ms); various cond & O • URTEXT 189/90, mono (2 CDs: 141: 42) Live: 1945–65


PUCCINI Madama Butterfly: Che tua madre; Con onor muore. La Bohème: Si, mi chiamano Mimi; Donde lieta usci; Quando m’en vo. Manon Lescaut: In quelle trine morbide. Tosca: Vissi d’arte; 1 O dolci mani. Turandot: Signore, ascolta. MASCAGNI L’Amico Fritz: Son pocchi fiori. LEONCAVALLO Pagliacci: Ballatella. GIORDANO Andrea Chenier: 2 Vicino a te. BOITO Mefistofele: L’altra notte; Spunta l’aurora pallida. BELLINI Norma: 3 Mira, o Norma. MASSENET Manon: Adieu, notre petite table; N’est-ce plus ma main. Hérodiade: Il est doux, il est bon. BIZET Carmen: Je dis que rien. TCHAIKOVSKY Maid of Orleans: Adieu, forêts. VERDI La Traviata: Addio del passato. Aida: O patria mia. Requiem: 4 Recordare. Otello: 5 Già nella notte densa; Era più calmo? … Piangea cantando; Ave Maria. La Forza del Destino: Pace, pace mio Dio. VARIOUS Songs from Meet Me in St. Louis


The long, sad list of exceptional singers who made few or no commercial recordings, from Jean de Reszke to Gilda Cruz-Romo, is now extended by these remarkable live performances over a span of 20 years by Mexican soprano Irma González. Previously, she had appeared on one V-Disc (a Spanish song) and a live performance of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony conducted by Bruno Walter, though there exists one commercial recording: songs by Manuel Ponce and Silvestre Revueltas. This two-CD set of broadcasts and live performances, then, fills a void and introduces us to an operatic soprano of remarkable achievement and artistry. The comparison to Cruz-Romo is especially apt. Like Cruz-Romo, González sang everything from Mozart to Verdi and Puccini, and also like Cruz-Romo, González was more than just a voice, she was an exciting, musical, and consummate artist.


When she made her debut in 1939, Giuseppe di Stefano had not yet sung in public, Jon Vickers had not begun vocal lessons, and Plácido Domingo had not been born, yet she sang with all of them—and with Ezio Pinza, Cesare Valletti, Mario del Monaco, Cesare Siepi, Giulietta Simionato, Grace Bumbry, Ettore Bastianini, Sherrill Milnes, Oralia Dominguez, Boris Christoff, Richard Tucker, and Giuseppe Taddei. There’s a remarkable 1980 video (in color) on YouTube of her singing “In questa reggia” from Turandot, at age 64, with a wonderful Calaf named David Portilla. She worked with such conductors as Kleiber, Klemperer, Ansermet, Casals, Walter, Beecham, and Markevitch. Her voice combined the rich, creamy colors of Renata Tebaldi with the brilliant high range of Marisa Galvany, but she was a more intense interpreter than the former and a more musical and finished vocalist than the latter. In short, she had it all. As a teacher, her most famous pupil was tenor Francisco Araiza. She died in 2008 at the age of 92.


By and large, the singing on this two-CD set is simply extraordinary. It takes one’s breath away. The final phrases of “Vissi d’arte,” for instance, are sung exactly as written, without the usual breaks or distortions that sopranos “traditionally” throw into it. The “Recordare” from the Verdi Requiem, with the little-known mezzo Aurora Woodrow, shows off her melting legato; the Ballatella from Pagliacci and “L’altra notte” from Mefistofele display a fine trill. “O patria mia” showcases her faultless line and extremely musical phrasing. Only once, for me, does she disappoint: Her “Addio del passato” is the healthiest- sounding performance I’ve ever heard, too loud and too insensitive to text. Not bad for a soprano you’ve never heard of before.


Considering that this is a Mexican production, the transfers are fairly good. At least some attempt was made to remove some of the surface noise, but not much, and the high notes are somewhat distorted in places depending on the quality of the original. On CD 2, there are also four errors in transfer: The Hérodiade aria is pitched a whole tone too high, Micaela’s aria from Carmen a quarter-tone too low, “Adieu, forêts” a half-tone high, and the “Recordare” a half-tone low, but when the sound is clear and full, with no distortion or blasting, you can hear the voice in all its glory. The bonus track comes from 1945, when González traveled to New York to record as soundtrack double to Judy Garland in the Mexican version of Meet Me in St. Louis, oddly renamed The Wheel of Fortune. Not too surprisingly, the best conducting comes from the well-known names here: Oliviero de Fabritiis, Carlo Felice Cellario, Anton Guadagno, and Igor Markevitch. The lavish booklet is full of interesting photos, including one with a baby-faced, 21-year-old Domingo, but alas, the text is only in Spanish. Full recording data is on the inside back cover. If you are a lover of outstanding vocal art, this has to be the surprise issue of the year.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

This two-disc set documents the revival of Peter Gelb's inaugural production of Puccini's Madama Butterfly at New York's Metropolitan Opera House, telecast in Times Square and in the plaza at Lincoln Center to the delight of thousands when it was brand new in 2006. It is exquisitely designed by Michael Levine and directed by the late film auteur Anthony Minghella. Since the director's death, his widow and the show's choreographer, Carolyn Choa, has been responsible for the stunning, evocative action. This performance was filmed in high-definition in March 2009.

Highly stylized and in bold, brilliant colors, our first visual is of a young Japanese woman approaching from the rear or the stage, trailing twenty-foot-long red scarves from her kimono; a sloping mirror rises from the rear of the stage multiplying the image and turning it into a kaleidoscopic event. Figures in black wearing veils — a repeated image throughout — circle her and wrap her in fabric. Only then does Puccini's music begin. The entire experience is practically tactile, and the rest of the production follows suit. Han Feng's costumes constantly surprise and please and Peter Mumford's lighting, making the most of the mirror that appears and disappears throughout, adds to the all-consuming physical enchantment. Butterfly enters wearing white against a sky of brilliant blue; her love duet with Pinkerton takes place amidst dozens of white lanterns and their reflections; later, curtains of flower petals fall from the sky. The stage is almost invariably empty of props; color and action take their place and we can focus on the singers. Minghella has minimized the singers' actions as well; there is no over-emoting. The sad story is allowed to speak for itself.

But Minghella's true coup-de-théâtre begins in the second act, when Butterfly, in her confrontation with Sharpless, shows him the child she has borne Pinkerton. The boy is played by a Bunraku puppet, operated by three veiled men in black. Yes, it startles and amuses at first, but as the opera continues we grow accustomed to it. The puppet is so effortlessly manipulated that even if our disbelief is never truly suspended, we are captivated by how real he seems and how touchingly Butterfly relates to him — and him to her. Look carefully at the face and you'll realize that it is emotionless; take a longer view and you'll feel that he's real. In the interlude before the last scene, a puppet Butterfly and male dancer enact the couple's upcoming tragic meeting. It is performed while the actual cast sits perfectly still; the effect is enchanting and troubling at once.

Patricia Racette's Butterfly is magnificent. Her full-bodied voice is imbued with a warm vibrato and her phrasing is natural and sharply musical. But just as crucially, she listens and reacts like a young girl and her movements are economical; her face registers her inner feelings — a remarkable portrayal. Marcello Giordani sings and plays Pinkerton with handsome tone and intelligence; his early swagger is offset by the realization of what he's done in the final scene. Dwayne Croft's Sharpless is sympathetic and Maria Zifchak's Suzuki is grandly sung and well-acted: her silent reaction to Cio-Cio-San's conversion to Christianity speaks volumes. Patrick Summers leads with intensity and great understanding.

Both sound and picture are splendid, as is Gary Halvorson's direction for the screen.

– Robert Levine, Listen [Spring 2011]

"In every dimension Ms. Racette’s effort was exceptional; hers is a performance not to be missed." – The New York Times

"Anthony Minghella’s sumptuous production of Madama Butterfly, Giacomo Puccini’s heartbreaking tale of love and betrayal, offers viewers a rare visual treat...Minghella, who died unexpectedly in March 2008, marks his debut in opera with the re-staging of Madama Butterfly – this is also the first time in 20 years that a new production has opened at the Met. The New York Times described it as “a gorgeous cinematic spectacle.”...Madama Butterfly, conducted by Patrick Summers, features costumes by Han Feng, with sets by Michael Levine, lighting by Peter Mumford, choreography by Carolyn Choa, and puppetry by the Blind Summit Theater." – PBS.org

Patricia Racette as Cio-Cio-San, Marcello Giordani as American Navy Lieutenant B. F. Pinkerton, Maria Zifchak as Suzuki and Dwayne Croft as Sharpless. Patrick Summers conducts the Metropolitan Opera and Chorus.

Region 0 - All Regions

...Ferro conducts with a mixture of ease and ebullience... [T]he Ferro set is well cast, with Enzo Dara as an amusing Magnifico, the young Francisco Araiza ardent and freshvoiced as the Prince, and Lucia Valentini Terrani—the leading Cenerentola of her time—giving a reading that is ripe, meaningful and suitably virtuosic in its lustrous, dark-grained way.

-- Gramophone [6/1991]
reviewing the complete Cenerentola

R E V I E W:



VERDI La Traviata • Antonio Pappano, cond; Renée Fleming ( Violetta ); Joseph Calleja ( Alfredo ); Thomas Hampson ( Germont ); Royal Op House Ch & O • OPUS ARTE OA 1040 D (DVD); OA BD7076 D (Blu-ray: 154:00) Live: Covent Garden 6/27 & 30/2009


Back in Fanfare 34:1 I reviewed the recent DVD of La traviata with Angela Gheorghiu, Ramón Vargas, Roberto Frontali, and Lorin Maazel at La Scala. To summarize that briefly, my verdict was: excellent staging, superlative Gheorghiu, good Vargas and Maazel, hapless Frontali and comprimario singers. I also provided an extensive overview of other versions of the opera on DVD; all are flawed, but the best alternatives are the 1968 film version on VAI with Anna Moffo, Franco Bonisolli, Gino Bechi, and Giuseppe Patané; a 1972 Tokyo staging starring Renata Scotto, José Carreras, Sesto Bruscantini, and Nino Verchi, also on VAI; and the 2006 Los Angeles Opera production on Decca with Renée Fleming, Rolando Villazón, Renato Bruson, and James Conlon. Opus Arte now brings us a new version with Renée Fleming, and while it too is not without its flaws, it joins the aforementioned entries in the top rank of La traviata performances on video.


At the risk of seeming like a gaggle of geese nibbling this DVD to death, I will state up front that this version of the opera is carried by a few great strengths over multiple secondary weaknesses. The strengths are easy to state: All the principal roles are securely sung, a top-notch conductor is on the podium, and the staging is sensible. In particular, Joseph Calleja is one of the greatest Alfredos ever to record the role. While not ideally handsome and dashing in physical appearance, he has the ringing tenor voice, secure technique, heartbreaking plangency of timbre, and interpretive imagination for the ideal Alfredo. Every time he opens his mouth, you simply don’t want him to close it again. He is also an effective actor whose facial expressions, postures, and gestures harmonize with his singing.


After Calleja, however, the “yes, but” element of this review enters in for everyone and everything else, beginning with the Violetta of Renée Fleming. Doubtless she is a very good Violetta, and superior to many rivals, but I do not think she is a truly great one. Compared to her Los Angeles performance from three years earlier, her interpretation is considerably deeper but her vocal technique (particularly in “Sempre libera”) is more labored and the sound less creamy. Thankfully, she does far less of the distracting grimacing and bizarre grinning than before, though sometimes it still intrudes (someone needs to tell her to rehearse in front of a mirror). However, my greater concern is that her acting is too calculated and external to the character rather than indwelling it; she expends too much energy portraying, rather than being, Violetta. The gestures and movements all seem too self-conscious; instead of just picking up a champagne bottle, or flitting a handkerchief, or sitting down in a chair, one can almost see her thinking, “Now I’m supposed to pick up the champagne bottle,” “Now I should flit my handkerchief,” “Now I should sit down in this chair.” Again, I would prefer to emphasize the real improvement in her characterization in just three years, but this dimension is present and it does matter.


Next there is the Germont of Thomas Hampson. The good news is that he is in steady and secure voice here—not always the case recently—which is more than can be said for much of his painfully superannuated competition. The less than ideal news is that, in order to keep the voice steady, he constantly forces it so that every syllable is pushed out at a forte with a hard, unyielding tone that limits him to a single mode of expression, one of preemptive sternness. His acting and facial gestures are similarly limited and wooden; when Violetta pleads for his fatherly embrace he remains stock-still and ignores her, and displays equal unconcern for his son at “Di Provenza il mar.” In an unintentionally comic sartorial aspect, the light green piping on his brown suit unavoidably conjures up a chocolate sundae with mint drizzle icing, while his stiff posture and lumbering gait in an over-padded full-length fur coat keep bringing to mind actor Fred Gwynne (aka Herman Munster). Again, I don’t want these smaller details to override the fact that Hampson’s Germont trumps that of many lesser singers, but again they are present and do matter.


The rest can be summarized more briefly. One always expects fine Verdi conducting when Antonio Pappano is in the pit, and so it proves here; but this time he seems a bit too deferential to his singers and the performance lacks the extra frisson found in his very best interpretations, and I actually find myself preferring Maazel overall despite his occasional eccentricities. The comprimario singers are uniformly excellent to a rare degree—every one of them could easily be singing a principal role in a major opera instead—and the deft stage direction makes their momentary interactions contribute far more to the cogency of the plot that I have ever experienced before. The recorded sound and film quality are quite good, with the quality of the Blu-ray disc only marginally superior to that of the regular DVD; the camerawork is sensible if not exceptional; the costumes are of the period and (Hampson’s suit and coat excepted) attractive and elegant; the ballet sequence at Flora’s party is nicely staged.


My one other major reservation concerns the production’s sets, which are quite pedestrian. Act I is set in a round room with brown wood paneling and a single large window with blinds in the back, with a small round settee and semicircular padded backless benches around it—no banquet table, chandelier, or anything else to indicate either elegance or the intended significance of Violetta in the round. While not the awful Willy Decker sofa and clock, it’s a major disappointment. The villa interior for act II, scene 1 is painted a drab eggshell blue and has no furniture other than a long work table and a few chairs. Several paintings—whether waiting to be hung or sold is not clear—are stacked on the floor to one side, and several little squares painted with stripes—color swatches, perhaps?—rest in a row on the wall molding halfway off the floor. It’s not very attractive, and simply leaves one baffled regarding the desired effect. By contrast, Flora’s party in act II scene 2 is appropriately elegant, marred only by garish red stage lighting, a huge modern dome light fixture hanging from the ceiling like an oversized cafeteria heat lamp hovering over sandwiches. Act III has an appropriately simple setting of a bare room outfitted with a bed, a dresser, and a couple of chairs, but again is marred by two enormous windows with blinds, against which inexplicably tall shadows (up to 30 feet) of carnival revelers are cast after Violetta finishes “Addio del passato.” Compared to the high-class La Scala staging for Gheorghiu, this is an impoverished country cousin.


So, once again, we still await the ideal La traviata . In the best of all possible worlds, I would be able to take the La Scala production, replace its wretched comprimario singers with their Covent Garden counterparts, swap out Vargas for Calleja, and replace Frontali with almost any other baritone from another DVD. (Leonard Warren, where are you when we need you?) Barring such a pleasing impossibility, however, this production is as good as any other and better than most, and is recommended accordingly.


FANFARE: James A. Altena