Commemorating the 270th anniversary of Mozart's birth in 2026, the "MOZART COLORS 100" collection by Deutsche Grammophon and Decca is a masterful fusion of high-fidelity audio and innovative visual curation. By organizing 94 essential recordings and six genre-specific masterpieces into a spectrum of 12 thematic colors, the series transforms the act of listening into a mood-based experience, allowing the "jacket color" to guide the listener through Mozart's immense versatility-from his precocious childhood works to his universally beloved classics. The technical presentation is equally impressive, featuring the SHM-CD format for superior sound resolution housed in elegant, color-coordinated cardboard sleeves that appeal to tactile collectors. With insightful new commentary by Mai Takano and approachable branding by Toshiyuki Hirata, this 100-title series successfully modernizes a historical legacy, making the 2026 anniversary both a luxury for audiophiles and a welcoming entry point for new fans of the "Wunderkind."

With his powerful voice and unmistakable stage presence, Anthony Clark Evans presents a dazzling panorama of the great 19th-century baritone repertoire on this recording. The program ranges from the passionate drama of Italian verismo to the elegance of French opera and the exalted sound world of Richard Wagner. Evans opens with Leoncavallo's famous Prologue from Pagliacci, a programmatic manifesto of verismo, and continues with Giordano's searing denunciation "Nemico della patria" from Andrea Chenier and Puccini's dark scene from Il Tabarro. Donizetti and Offenbach provide melodic refinement and brilliant color from the Italian and French traditions, while Thomas's drinking song from Hamlet adds charm and lightness. Particular highlights are the Wagner arias - the intimate "Song to the Evening Star" from Tannhauser and the great scene of the Dutchman - where Evans's voice reveals both lyrical depth and dramatic radiance. The program concludes with central Verdi roles, from Rigoletto to Il Trovatore and Luisa Miller, showcasing the full range of Italian bel canto drama.

Includes complete libretto

Violanta was Korngold’s second opera, composed after the comedy "Der Ring des Polycrates" when the composer was only 17 years old. It was given a double bill premiere with Der Ring in 1916 at the Munich Court Theatre under Bruno Walter, with Maria Jeritza in the title role.

The libretto, by Viennese playwright Hans Müller, has definite echoes of verismo. The opera is set during the Renaissance, in the Venetian Republic. Simone, military commander of the Republic is married to the beautiful Violanta, who has sworn revenge against Alfonso, Prince of the Republic. Violanta’s sister, Nerina, committed suicide after being seduced by Alfonso. Violanta’s plan is to lure Alfonso from the Carnival into her quarters, then have him killed by Simone, after being promised that his marital privileges will resume once Alfonso is dead. Once Alfonso is in Violanta’s quarters, she realizes that she’s in love with him as Alfonso is with her. She hesitates to give Simone, who is hiding, the signal to come out and kill him. Simone becomes impatient and comes out, finding the lovers in embrace. As Simone is about to strike Alfonso, Violanta gets in the way, receiving the blow and dying in Simone’s arms.

Here we have a marvellous example of how the young prodigy achieved his distinctive style at this early age. The usual description given to Korngold’s music, as made of elements of Richard Strauss and Giacomo Puccini, while being for the most part only a useful pointer, applies here perfectly. However, as with all generalizations, it does not give the whole story. Yes, the combination of rich orchestration and beautiful melodies is there; but listen, for example, to the Vorspiel where the very first mysterious chord is played in arpeggio by pretty much the whole orchestra, which then transforms into the main motif, played in tutti: Pure and unmistakable Korngold.

There are other wonderful moments in the opera, including the duet between Violanta and Alfonso; a Tristan-esque affair that, in my humble opinion, has a sense of forward movement that the Bayreuth master only achieved in "Die Meistersinger".

Let’s now talk about this recording. It is, to my knowledge, the only recording of this opera. The Munich Radio Symphony Orchestra - the same one that recorded with Erich Leinsdorf the classic 1975 premiere recording of "Die Tote Stadt" - is, as in that recording, in wonderful form. The clarity and power of the brass, the richness of tone of the strings and the clarity of the woodwinds put it in the same class as the best in the world.

Marek Janowski’s pacing of the score is very appropriate. It doesn’t feel rushed at all, letting the inner drive of the music provide the impetus. This is something that I feel is critical to let Korngold’s music shine; Erich Leinsdorf in his Tote Stadt feels at times rushed. Listen instead to the Leif Segerstam recording of the same opera on Naxos; while there are many controversial points with his interpretation, his pacing sounds ideal. Janowski seems to agree in his approach to Violanta.

Walter Berry, in this recording is beginning to show a bit of strain, but, for the most part, his voice is a rich as ever. On the other hand, Eva Marton in the title role is at the height of her powers, handling the difficult role with aplomb. Siegfried Jerusalem, although an acquired taste for many, as Alfonso, has the right qualities for a role that is not very dissimilar to that of Siegmund in vocal requirements.

The recorded sound is excellent, spacious, with great balance between the singers and orchestra. This is a 1980 analogue recording; by then, the art of recording by analogue means had reached a pinnacle. It can be said that by then it was perfected. Along with this release, other releases of the late 1970s, early 1980s era, like Solti’s "Hansel und Gretel" and parts of his Mahler cycle, show how far the technology had progressed. The SPARS code for this release is ADD, indicating that re-mastering took place, although no information about it is provided.

A libretto in the original German is included, along with translations to English and French. The very useful and informative notes include a short biography of Korngold, a history and description of the opera and analytic commentary, all written by Christopher Palmer. The introduction is written by none other than Karl Böhm, reminiscing about hearing the opera for the first time and his experiences while coming in contact with the Korngolds. An introduction by Vienna State Opera executive producer Marcel Prawy is also provided.

In conclusion, a great recording of a great opera that is well worth tracking down. This is a must not only for Korngold fans, but to admirers of late-romantic German opera. By virtue of being the only recording, it is THE reference recording, but it’s hard to think that it could have trouble holding that place against possible new recordings. Still, record companies, please keep them coming!

-- Victor Martell, MusicWeb International

Akhnaten, Philip Glass's third opera, is a work of relatively compact dimensions but with all the qualities of epic about it. More a history than a story, it tells in Glass's characteristically elliptical fashion of the rise and fall of Akhnaten, sun-worshipper and monotheist, the 'man of religion' who complements in Glass's opera-trilogy the 'man of science' in Einstein on the Beach, and Gandhi, 'man of politics' in Satyagraha. Instead of a libretto there are texts and documents recovered by the Egyptologists, sung or spoken against an endlessly flowing line of orchestral background that symbolizes the passage of time.

Characters as such barely exist, indeed the very notion of 'characterization' is quite inapplicable to the elusive figures who pass through the music like ghosts or shadows. Religious fervour always excepted, everything is drained of human detail and emotion. Even the Act 2 duet between Akhnaten and Nefertiti has all the passion of a pair of scarab beetles mating, indeed, it comes as no surprise to find that the words of this domestic exchange are the same ones used just minutes earlier to address the sun-god Aten. Such is the manner of this solemn, ritualistic work. Decades pass; religions are set up and topple; always the orchestra, the ultimate protagonist, throbs underneath with its almost seamless weft of minor-mode arpeggios. Like Satie's Socrate, another piece of 'white music' and a score to which Akhnaten owes a great deal, this is a statuesque work of such earnestness that the term 'opera', with its implication of drama, fails to communicate the nature of the conception.

Akhnaten contains some of Glass's very best music. The Act I funeral scene, almost anthropo-logically observed with its terrifying drumming and the wild trumpet that accompanies the male chorus at the climax of the procession, strikes a chilling note from which the atmosphere never recovers. The final scene, sung wordlessly by the ghosts of Akhnaten, his wife and his mother in the ruins of their city, haunts the mind long after the music has ceased to play. Strangest and most wonderful of all is the ''Hymn to the Sun'', sung by Akhnaten himself at the centre of the opera, and addressed to the audience in its own language—English was chosen for the recording. It is one of the very few moments when we are invited to participate in Akhnaten's private world of belief, and with Glass's mesmeric music it's difficult not to be drawn in completely and utterly.

Success in the performance of Akhnaten relies more upon the orchestra than on voices, and here the Stuttgart State Opera (which commissioned the work) does a superb job. With relatively limited scope for interpretation, the soloists are to be judged more for the nature of their voices than for what they put into the playing of their parts, and in this regard I was slightly disappointed only by Paul Esswood, whose tense, tight-toned singing of the title-role turns Akhnaten into a colder, more remote figure than he need have been. The chorus is marvellous. Documentation, vital for an understanding of the story, is more than adequate, with full texts and translations from the Egyptian and Hebrew.

-- Gramophone, 02/1998

I'd quite forgotten what a marvellous performance this is—even though, when it comes to Bartok's speech-derived vocal inflexions, native Hungarians have the edge (and in that respect, Ferencsik's 1956 team is probably the best). Still, the crux of the drama, its emotional thrust and potent symbolic allusions, all are unequivocally realized by Siegmund Nimsgern, Tatiana Troyanos and Pierre Boulez. Troyanos's Judith has more credibility than most. For example, that wonderful passage 3'21'' into the ''First Door'', when Bluebeard asks Judith why she must open all the doors, and she responds with a confession of love—is seethingly intense, although the frenzied string writing that tails her candid ''because I love you'' rather loses focus in all the steam. Yet Boulez captures to perfection the ambiguous nature of Bartok's heated response, whether Judith really is in love—or just plain curious. Again, at the ''Third Door'' (''Now behold my spacious kingdom''), the impact is colossal, even though digital technology would have stretched the dynamic curve even further. Judith's triumphant, heroically sustained C sounds more genuinely wonder-struck than any other on record, while Boulez's pacing is ideally judged—in fact, throughout this memorable performance, he balances the constituent parts of Bartok's rich tonal palette with a meticulous ear, patiently scaling the score's many texturally complex climaxes. Nimsgern is a tortured, yet commanding Bluebeard, vocally excellent and interpretatively compelling, although the recording does sometimes lend his voice an untypically cavernous quality.

As to CD competition, I would single out the Bluebeards of Sawallisch, Dorati and Kertesz as the best alternative interpretations; and yet if pressured into choosing, I would probably opt for this latest reissue—not only because it seems to me the best sung, but also on account of Boulez's dramatic, psychological and musical perceptiveness. It is one of his finest recordings and if he ever decides to re-record it (say, as part of his current Bartok series for DG), then this Sony production will certainly prove a very hard act to follow. The actual recording is hugely accommodating within the sonic limitations of the period (there are occasional traces of over-modulation), and the CD comes complete with texts and translations. Very strongly recommended.

-- The Gramophone

VERDI: OTELLO KLEIBER, FRENI,

This recording was nominated for the 2000 Grammy Award for "Best Opera Recording.

György Ligeti's only opera, 'Le Grande Macabre,' after a play by Michel de Ghelderode, concerns itself with nothing less than the end of the world. This is promised by the evil Nekrotzar but, despite dire warnings and ominous foreshadowing, the whole thing is something of a bust and in the end the only casualty is Nekrotzar himself. In between are any number of lascivious and criminal goings-on in fictional Breughelland, a place of infinite corruption, socially, morally and politically (and enormously funny in the bargain). Ligeti's brilliant, delightful, infinitely difficult music ranges from preludes and interludes scored for automobile horns and doorbells to the breathtaking coloratura flights of Gepopo, the soprano chief of the secret police. The performance under Esa-Pekka Salonen is beyond praise.

Volume 8 of Sony's Ligeti Edition presents the revised score of 1997, taken from live performances in Paris. There are numerous changes and the opera is shorter by some ten minutes. The revision also changes the language from German to English. The German original is available on Wergo in a fine performance. The Sony recording preserves a performance of even greater brilliance of what is now one of the great comic operas in English.

This 1961, Wieland Wagner directed Bayreuth Tannhäuser, conducted by Wolfgang Sawallisch, stars Victoria de los Angeles as Elisabeth and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (at his last Bayreuth Festival) in the role of Wolfram. This discovery in the radio archives of a Tannhäuser from the first of the subsequent performances to a less-than-optimal initial performance is a real find, and is here released on CD in the series of historical recordings of the Bayreuth Festival. By a stroke of luck, all the protagonists were on form on this early August evening, as can now be heard for the first time.

This is verismo singing on the grandest, most authentic scale.

Milanov may sound a trifle mature for Santuzza, but who today, or in any day, fills Mascagni's grateful phrases with quite such full, lustrous tone and with such a wealth of feeling for the text? This is verismo singing on the grandest, most authentic scale and very welcome back to the catalogue as such. Björling may be a trifle too gentlemanly for Turiddu, as is Bergonzi on the Karajan version (DG), but better that than too much overt passion perhaps and—like his soprano—his singing is an exemplar of the spinto style at its best, with much fine shading of the tone and an inward feeling for the part. As Alfio, Merrill turns in one of his most considerable performances on disc. Indeed these three non-Italians prove the exception to the rule that Italians are essential in Italian repertory, but then all three were brought up in a stricter school than that pertaining today.

Cellini's conducting is no more than adequate. The recording is very restricted in range and unatmospheric in sound. For a fuller, more sonorous account of the score, in stereo, the Karajan is hard to equal, but his spacious version is twinned with Pag. If you want this opera alone I would suggest this version.

-- Gramophone [8/1988]

This recording, live from the Vienna State Opera in 1955, was taped just weeks before virtually the same cast (there's only one major difference) entered the studio and recorded it for Decca. The performances are remarkably similar: Karl Böhm, a master of this complex, beautiful score, presents it almost complete (there are, I believe, very small cuts here and there) and has assembled a superb, enthralled, and enthralling cast. The one major change from the studio recording is that whereas Paul Schöffler was the Barak for Decca, here we get Ludwig Weber, whose voice may be somewhat less beautiful than Schöffler's, but is easily as expressive, endearing, and impressive.

Leonie Rysanek is the familiar Empress, seemingly hypnotized and enchanted, her voice settling down after some initial pitch problems mid-range to offer a glorious reading, with gleaming, cutting top notes and true sentiment throughout. She makes us feel for the character and her plight. Her Emperor is the beefy tenor Hans Hopf, who is less crude than usual and has the notes and stamina for the role, particularly in the seemingly endless final scene, which, when presented as complete as is it here, can be quite a challenge.

As the Dyer's Wife, Christel Goltz is not quite in the same class with the others; her singing is secure and good enough but she lacks any subtlety and can't compare with, say, Christa Ludwig in the role. Elisabeth Höngen's Nurse is nasty and biting, and she gets through the role without shouting. Kurt Böhme's Messenger is potent and the rest of the cast--Vienna stalwarts from the '50s--is top notch.

Böhm captures just the correct otherworldliness of the music, and the Vienna Philharmonic, tam tam, gongs and all, plays with great feeling and love. The sound is pure, clear monaural (the studio recording is early stereo but is essentially no better), with even the harps audible; Strauss' exotica is underlined but not so prominent that we can't hear the gorgeously tonal score. The vibrancy of the live experience is thrilling. If you own the Decca, you won't need this, really, but you must own one or the other.

--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

Another marvellous night at Bayreuth

This is a revelatory interpretation of a work which is not easy to bring off. André Cluytens had taken over the musical direction from Eugen Jochum at short notice, and he seems energised by the challenge. Contemporary reviews spoke of the bright, shining strings and the luminous texture of the orchestra, and of the ‘intoxicating magic’ of the whole concept – all of which is confirmed by this first release. It comes from the second year of what is still considered one of Wieland Wagner’s most elevating productions, and the photos in the booklet show us its moving simplicity and sense of dedication. Director and conductor seem to have persuaded a fine cast to give of their very best. Wolfgang Windgassen, who also takes the title-role in Wolfgang Sawallisch’s 1962 recording from Bayreuth, is here in fresher voice and is even more alternately elated and anguished in his delivery than seven years later. His paean to Venus in Act 1 is as heroically fervent as his narration in Act 3, telling of the Pope’s rejection of his appeal for pardon, and expressing his own terrible torment of the spirit.

His true love, Elisabeth, is sung with total commitment and vibrant, outgoing voice by Gré Brouwenstijn. Her radiance in ‘Dich teure Halle’ and her reverence in her Act 3 Prayer could hardly be better done, equalling if not surpassing Anja Silja’s rather different but just as valid approach in 1962. Just before the Prayer she sings ‘Er kehret nicht zurück’ – ‘he has not come back’ – with utter conviction. The young Fischer-Dieskau is a model Wolfram with a heart of gold and tone to match, each phrase benefiting from his eloquent approach. Josef Greindl, if you can excuse variable intonation, is an imposing Landgraf. Herta Wilfert, a little-known mezzo, is competent but perhaps a little staid as Venus, certainly when compared to the young Grace Bumbry in 1962.

Wieland, as later in 1962, opts for the Paris version in Act 1, the Dresden in Act 2. The latter restores Walther’s solo, a definite plus when it is sung with such beauty by Josef Traxel. The choral singing is up to the superb standard of Wilhelm Pitz during his long reign as Bayreuth’s chorus-master, and Cluytens draws playing of tremendous élan from what sounds like a vintage Bayreuth band. The mono sound is so good that you soon forget any limitations. This set enters the pantheon of great Bayreuth performances on disc.

Alan Blyth, The GRAMOPHONE

WAGNER, R.: Walkure (Die) / Gotterdammerung (excerpts) (Furt

Classical Music

A remarkable record of a live performance, capturing a collection of Wagner greats and a few surprises.

This disc captures, unadulterated and unadorned, the opening night of a new production of Lohengrin at the Vienna Staatsoper. One glance down the cast-list will tell you that this is something special. It must have been even more special to have been in the theatre, for not only was Karl Böhm in the pit but Wieland Wagner himself was directing the staging, something illustrated generously in the accompanying booklet. The sound, recorded for broadcast by Austrian Radio, is in mono, which is undeniably regrettable, but it’s surprisingly good for its age. The only place where it brings real losses is in the chorus scenes, which are many in this opera. The natural point of comparison for this set is Kempe’s classic set, which shares the same orchestra, the same Lohengrin and the same Ortrud, and was recorded two years previously. The comparisons are fascinating.

The most interesting contrast, and the factor which impels this release, is the conducting of Karl Böhm. Where Kempe is rapt, Böhm is driven. Like his live Ring and Tristan from Bayreuth, he prefers fast tempi, and this drives the drama along at an exciting pace. You can tell that when you compare the timings: Böhm is more than 20 minutes faster than Kempe. In fact he achieves the feat of making this one of the very few Lohengrins on disc (perhaps the only one?) to fit each act complete onto a single CD. Yet Böhm never feels unduly rushed. Instead, the strength of his vision convinces the listener that this is an entirely appropriate view of the piece. Furthermore, he knows how to relax when he needs to, and he does so liberally, particularly for the Grail music. The Act 1 Prelude is markedly slower than what follows it. He broadens out the soundscape after Lohengrin’s arrival in the middle of the act, the excitement of the crowd giving way to a gently meditative first utterance from the knight.

That first utterance is, in fact, something pretty special. Jess Thomas is on top notch form here and he sounds sensational in his farewell to the swan in the first act, as in his declaration of love for Elsa. He is, perhaps, a little anonymous in the second act, but he is moving and remarkably sympathetic in the bridal chamber scene. In fernem Land, similarly slowed down by Böhm, unfolds at an unhurried pace and in one single-minded direction. He was an extraordinary swan knight for Kempe, and it’s exciting to hear him in the live context here. Claire Watson is also on her very finest form as Elsa. There is clarity and purity to her voice that, to my ears at least, comes close to making her the equal of Elisabeth Grümmer - high praise indeed. She is helpless and vulnerable in the first act but brims over with optimism at the start of the second, and her address to the breezes is a delight. Perhaps you don’t get quite the same sense of impending doom in the bridal chamber scene, but she summons up the correct sense of terror as that scene reaches its climax and she is full of pathos in her sense of loss in the final scene.

Kempe’s set gave us the finest Ortrud on disc in Christa Ludwig, and she is every bit as sensational here. If anything, the live event inspires her to give of herself with even more commitment. The dramatic temperature of the whole set rises when she enters at the start of Act 2. There is something darkly insidious in her vocal presence, and the way she seems to pour scorn on her husband is magnificently dramatic. She then inveigles her way into Elsa’s confidence with the skill of the greatest of con artists, and the power of her invocation at Entweihte Götter! is so great that it brings the house down, forcing Böhm to halt proceedings for about twenty seconds. She then chews up the scenery in the great crowd scene at the end of Act 2 and manages a wonderful groan of defeat when the swan is revealed as Gottfried at the very end of the opera. Her husband both on and off the stage, Walter Berry, isn’t quite the match for Fischer-Dieskau either in vocal beauty or in acting - he sounds overly gruff in the first act - but he rises to a climax at the start of Act 2 and is never less than a convincing stage presence. It’s a real treat having Martti Talvela as the King, his rich, fruity bass giving the part an extra level of character that it doesn’t always get. Eberhard Wächter is luxury casting as the Herald.

I doubt that anyone will take this as a top choice, especially not over any stereo sets, because sound quality is important in this opera. However, it’s a remarkable record of a live performance, capturing a collection of Wagner greats and a few surprises, and it will be especially interesting for anyone who knows and loves the Kempe set.

Incidentally, this whole production was double cast. The other cast that alternated with this one included the likes of James King, Gustav Neidlinger and Astrid Varnay. Having not one but two such legendary casts available for one opera in the same city seems like an extravagant dream to us nowadays, but what fun to dream it!

-- Simon Thompson, MusicWeb International

Live recording: Festspielhaus, July 29/30, 1958

Lisa Della Casa and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau - this was an ideally cast Arabella with a dream couple in the leading roles. For years this production was a model for Munich and Vienna. It can now be heard for the first time in its original version, with the incomparable Strauss sound of the Vienna Philharmonic under Joseph Keilberth - the sensation of the 1958 Salzburg Festival.

This is an Enhanced CD, which contains both regular audio tracks and multimedia computer files.
All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.

BOHEME

This selection features recordings of the voice of Enrico Caruso remastered and accompanied by a modern orchestra.
The vocal parts were recorded 1906-1920 in New York and Camden, New Jersey. The orchestral accompaniment was recorded May 1999 in Vienna, Austria.

Music composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber. Lyrics written by Charles Hart.
Principal cast includes: Juan Navarro (El Fantasma De La Opera); Irasema Terrazaz (Christine); Jose Joel (Raul, Visconte De Chagny); Tatiana Marouchtchak (Carlotta Giudicelli); Luis Rene Aguirre (Monsieur Firmin); Luis Miguel Lombana (Monsieur Andre); Tere Cabrera (Madame Giry); Javier Cortes (Ubaldo Piangi); Laura Morelos (Meg Giry).
Recorded at 201 Studios, Mexico.

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

GOUNOD Roméo et Juliette • Emil Cooper, cond; Jussi Björling (Roméo); Bidù Sayão (Juliette); Nicola Moscona (Friar Laurence); John Brownlee (Mercutio); Metropolitan Opera O & Ch • SONY 8869780462, mono (2 CDs: 126:34). Live: New York City 2/1/1947


Sony has managed to clear hurdles with the Metropolitan Opera and all of the unions involved to begin commercially releasing important Met broadcasts from the past. (Is there any point in our continuing to hope that the Italians will get their act together and find some way to open up the archives at La Scala?) All of the first four releases are superb, but this one is the true gem. Sony has worked with the Met on these, and the sound surpasses, though not by a great margin, all previous releases of this broadcast (and there have been many on a variety of what are euphemistically called “private labels,” including Rodolphe, Immortal Performances, and Myto). Collectors have long prized this exquisite performance, and the Met itself had issued it on LP at high fund-raising prices.


Of course the sound is still somewhat constricted and not at the level of good 1947 monaural studio recordings. If you must have stereo then you will have to look elsewhere. Probably the first choice would be EMI’s effort with Michel Plasson conducting, and Roberto Alagna and Angela Gheorghiu as the star-crossed lovers (EMI 40700). For those who want large-scale, often thrilling vocalism, Franco Corelli and Mirella Freni made an earlier EMI set worth hearing despite its lack of refinement (Alain Lombard conducting, 65290). But if you have the flexibility to listen to adequate 1947 monaural broadcast sound, processed quite well by Andreas Meyer and John Fredenburg, this performance is in almost every way clearly superior to its competition. The biggest sonic flaw is an occasional flutter that creeps in on sustained wind tones. But it is rarely apparent.


There is a problem with cuts, more traditional in the 1940s than now; particularly brutal is the axe taken to the fourth act. But even with that caveat, this is a must-have for anyone with an interest in this opera, or for that matter in opera in general. Although Bidu Sayão is superb, and Emil Cooper’s conducting is some of the most sensitive and well paced this opera has received on disc, it is Jussi Björling who makes the set indispensible. Where does one start with this tenor? I suppose with the sound of the voice itself—if the word “golden” was ever apt as a descriptor for a voice, it is this voice. His scrupulous musicianship, his unerring pitch, his sensitivity to the style of the music, all of those play into his success as Roméo. But it is more than that. Here Björling sings with an abandon and passion that was not always present on his commercial studio recordings. Without ever going over the edge into excess, he holds some high notes longer than you might expect from him, and he adds just that extra bit of juice when it is appropriate. I cannot imagine the role ever sung better, and in fact I never expect to hear it sung as well. His ringing high C at the end of the third act is thrilling.


Sayão is almost as good. The voice has just a slight hint of bite in it, while mostly retaining sweetness throughout all the registers. And she too shows complete mastery of the style. She and Björling blend beautifully in the four big duets that are the reason for this opera’s survival in the repertoire.


It is fascinating that the most stylish and successful recorded performance of this opera does not contain a native French speaker in the cast or on the podium. The Roméo is Swedish, the Juliet is Brazilian, and the conductor is Russian of English heritage! Cooper was a more important figure than history remembers; he conducted the world premiere of Rimsky-Korsakov’s Le Coq d’or , and he was a mainstay at the Met for many years. His conducting reflects a deep knowledge of Gounod’s score, an understanding of the appropriate tempo relationships within each scene and act, and a sensitivity to the singers’ needs. The Met Orchestra was not in those days the refined jewel that it has become under James Levine’s leadership, but it plays well enough, and Cooper takes great care with matters of color and balance. The chorus is perhaps a bigger problem, singing with raw tone that wants more blending. Still, that is a minor flaw.


Fanfare readers who have come to know my writing are aware of my love for older so-called “historic” recordings. But as much as I often find special qualities in performances from the first half of the 20th century, and believe that they have much to show us, there are very few cases where I would state that a live broadcast from the 1940s is the one recording of an opera to own if you were only going to own one. In this case, however, I have no hesitation in saying that. What Björling, Sayão, Cooper, and a fine supporting cast offer here is a performance that is truly memorable and thrilling. We should be grateful to Peter Gelb and the Met and to Sony for figuring out how to get some of the treasures of the Met archives out to the public, and to whoever made the decision that this Roméo et Juliette belonged in the first group of releases in the series. I can’t wait to see what’s next.


FANFARE: Henry Fogel

First time on CD from the Metropolitan Opera’s archives: Mozart's Le nozze di Figaro. A delightful performance from January 28, 1961 with Roberta Peters, Mildred Miller, Lucine Amara, Kim Borg and Cesare Siepi all at the height of their careers. Conducted by Erich Leinsdorf.

There is no want for recordings of this opera, and several are terrific: Jennifer Larmore/Raul Gimenez (Teldec); Horne/Alva (Opera d'Oro); Horne/Ramey (Erato); Baltsa/Raimondi (DG). But there's always room for another if it's good, and this new release, recorded at the 2008 Wildbad Rossini Festival, is excellent--and the least expensive of them all.

The star here is Lawrence Brownlee, the superb coloratura-lyric tenor who is giving Juan Diego Florez a run for his money. Warm of tone, stylish, accurate, rhythmically impeccable, fearless of high notes, involved with the text, and capable of marvelous patter (his first-act duet with Mustafa is a gem), Brownlee is the best Lindoro on disc. He is given both of his arias, which he dispatches nimbly and naturally.

Almost as fine (behind only Samuel Ramey) is Lorenzo Regazzo's Mustafa, here portrayed not as a buffoon but as a man smitten and naive to the wiles of women. The voice is appealing, dark, and round-toned, and he sings the coloratura and patter handily. I like that he doesn't growl and yelp like most basses do in this role; he may be a tyrannical character but he's in a position of power and distinction. The other two low men's voices are equally good: Giulio Mastrototaro's Haly is colorful and self-assured, and Bruno De Simone's is the best Taddeo on disc. He has the Rossini style down pat and sings with impeccable diction. He doesn't sound young, but that's hardly an issue. Both men are fine in ensembles.

Marianna Pizzolato is a far lighter mezzo than we normally hear in this role. I guess in keeping with underplaying Mustafa's foolishness, we avoid having an Isabella who sounds as if she could conquer Algiers singlehandedly--as, say, Baltsa and Horne could. Pizzolato is more in the Teresa Berganza class (although the voice is not as lovely); there are no booming low notes, but she commands the role on her own terms. There's little to argue with vocally--she has the technique down pat--and she has a good sense of fun as well. Ruth Gonzales as Mustafa's poor, fed-up wife, Elvira, can be slightly shrill but is mostly an excellent part of the ensemble, and mezzo Elsa Giannoulidou holds up her end as Zulma.

Alberto Zedda, an old hand who can occasionally be more scholarly than entertaining, is at his best: zippy tempos prevail (in fact, the finale to Act 1 is faster than I've ever heard it--a remarkable example of how well rehearsed the performance is); vocal lines are ornamented wisely (not the old fashioned way, with big high notes at the end of arias and scenes, but rather within the numbers themselves); and the opera comes across as charming.

This work can seem like hectoring and can be somewhat cruel; the choice of singers, tempos, and overall outlook makes it concentrate on the love story and the peculiarities of East meeting West. The Transylvania State Philharmonic Choir, Cluj is superb, singing at times at a whisper very accurately and offering real personality, and the Virtuosi Brunensis plays with vigor. The recording is fine, with voices always audible and well-balanced. If you're in need of a L'Italiana, this one will please you, particularly at half the price of the others; otherwise the Larmore/Teldec release is the best cast, overall.

--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

It took me only a few seconds of listening to realise that there was likely to be something special about this recording. The Overture is so well known and often played, but here it comes up with the kind of invigorating freshness and brightness that brings an immediate grin to your face. Partly this is due to the use of the recent critical edition by Azio Corghi, whose changes of flute to piccolo in the allegro section, and detailed changes of phrasing throughout are entirely for the better, but it is due even more to the sheer rhythmic grace and suppleness of the playing. Alberto Zedda may have been nearly 80 when this recording was made but you would never guess it from the results. The orchestra sounds to be of an appropriate size for the work – not on historic instruments, I understand, but certainly historically informed - and it has been recorded in an acoustic which appropriately feels like the kind of medium-sized opera-house that Rossini would have expected.

Apart from Lawrence Brownlee the cast is not as starry as other versions of the work, but what is much more important is that the majority of the soloists are native speakers of Italian and all have clearly been thoroughly rehearsed together as an ensemble. Brownlee sings with grace and manliness - an uncommon quality in this role. Bruno de Simone and Lorenzo Regazzo have voices which are clearly distinguishable from each other and both are masters of Rossini’s writing for comic basses. The ladies are perhaps less individual, Marianna Pizzolato in particular lacking the kind of vivid characterisation that we find in recordings with, say, Marilyn Horne or Jennifer Larmore. Nonetheless she sings with great beauty where required, and at all times communicates the dramatic situation to the audience. It is indeed this quality of communication which makes the recording special. There is no sense of a routine run-through; instead there is the freshness of apparent new discovery.

This is wholly appropriate as L’Italiana in Algeri was written when the composer was only twenty-one. He had written nine operas before it but here reveals himself for the first time as a complete master of writing for the stage and one determined to make this clear to the audience. The special merit of this performance is that the performers are clearly working as an ensemble. It was recorded at live performances but the only significant adverse effects are very occasional moments of ragged ensemble and the brief applause at the end of some, but not all, numbers. On the other hand the very positive effect is the palpable sense of involvement in the performance from everyone involved.

Naxos have recorded a number of Rossini operas at the Wildbad Festival already, but this is by some way the best I have heard so far. No libretto is included with the set and that on their website is in Italian only. There is however a detailed and helpfully cued synopsis which is some consolation - although in a comic opera you really do need to be able to understand all the words to appreciate it as the composer intended.

-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International

IL TROVATORE

Although one of his most consistently lyrical operas, La rondine remains one of Puccini' least known. Dissatisfied with the result of his work, Puccini wrote three versions, with two different endings, and continued to make further revisions up to h.