Mozart: Don Giovanni

The Italian tenor sings the world’s greatest Italian tenor arias, including the hit “Nessun dorma” – without question the most famous opera arias.
Verissimo meaning “very true” in Italian and is a play on the word “Verismo” – the late 19th century opera style from which these featured operas are taken. The style is known for its big passions, dramatic lyricism, lush orchestral sound and storylines about normal people in the throes of love, death, betrayal and revenge. Key composers of this style include Puccini, Mascagni, Cilea and Leoncavallo.

Alexander Kipnis' Opera Arias & Songs is one of the most beautiful compilations of vocal recordings ever assembled on one disc. That all but one of the 21 recordings comes from the 1920s may dismay some listeners, but as in the rest of Sony's Masterworks Heritage series, the sound is as clear and clean as humanly possible and could be an impediment only to the most aurally challenged listeners. That the singer is a bass may dismay other listeners, who believe that male vocal beauty can come from tenors and the occasional baritone, but not from a bass. But the vocal beauty of Kipnis' voice, the sheer cream and velvet tone of his voice, is the equal of the best tenors and baritones, and only the most intolerant listener would be dissuaded.

Any track randomly chosen is amazing and moving, and listeners should try his Der Lindenbaum of Schubert: heartrending and so natural that it sounds like a folk song. Or his Mondnacht of Schumann: as light and graceful as the phenomena it describes. His arias from Handel are robust and virile, but supple and flexible; his Feldeinsamkeit by Brahms is sweetly lyrical with a seamless legato; his Doppelgänger by Schubert is maybe the scariest performance of the song ever recorded. Then try his opera arias: his maniacally cackling Faust arias, his regal Wagner arias, and the exquisite cantilena of his Sarastro's aria from Die Zauberflöte. One of the all-time great bass recitals.

-- James Leonard, AllMusic.com

An Enchanted Evening with Jose Carreras

AGNES BALTSA SINGS ROSSINI

This is indeed A Life for the Tsar, not Ivan Susanin. An opera glorifying the establishment of the Romanov dynasty was an awkward one for the Communists, the more so as the work is with some reason honoured in its own land as the first great Russian opera. The censors found various ways round the problem, and all modern scores (such as the 1978 Muzyka vocal score) contain the version by Sergey Gorodetsky, which gets off to a characteristic start by making the peasants sing "I'll die for Holy Russia" instead of "I'll die for the Tsar, for Rus". They do it rather tentatively here; perhaps that particular kind of folk polyphony, the so-called podgo/osok, comes more easily to Russians than to Bulgarians. They are much better in the splendid rowing chorus, as the men round the bend in the thawing river to be greeted by the excited villagers: no wonder the first orchestra applauded Glinka's brilliant balalaika pizzicato as they recognized a composer who could write not just imitations, but compose from within Russian idioms. The beautiful 5/4 wedding chorus is charmingly sung, and the final "Slavsya" is properly jubilant as the people hail the Tsar whose throne has been saved by Susanin's sacrifice.

Earlier, deep in the frozen forest where he has deliberately misled the invading Poles, he has sung his great farewell to the last dawn he will see. Boris Martinovich rises well to the occasion of this famous aria; before, he is reflective but not always as firm as the music suggests. His daughter Antonida is sung by Alexandrina Pendachanska. She has a clear, acute voice, with a slight edge to it and under pressure the familiar Slavonic vibrato, but she phrases well and sings with character. Her betrothed, Sobinin, is well taken by Chris Merritt; he has a good sense of line and, like Pendachanska, the ability to make a single expressive gesture in those arias where Glinka's initial Russian enthusiasms dissolve into Italian gestures as he slightly loses his way. Stefania Toczyska sings Vanya's charming song about the little bird affectingly, and also has the character to make a strong dramatic gesture of the scena when he arrives, unhorsed and freezing, to warn of the Poles' seizure of Susanin.

The orchestra plays well for Emil Tchakarov, making much of all the Polish glitter and stamp, and the recording is fair if not outstanding: the voices come across well, but the various effects of space and distance, of arrivals and departures, are not as atmospheric as they might be. No matter: it is splendid to have on record, at last, a good version of Glinka's seminal masterpiece of Russian opera in its true form.

-- Gramophone [9/1991]

VIVES: DONA FRANCISQUITA ROA,

ESCAPE THROUGH OPERA

This program is also available on VHS as Sony Classical 60239.

VERDI: FALSTAFF MUTI, PONS, F

Here is a private portrait gallery for Ferruccio Furlanetto: all his Mozart roles rising up and meeting him in person and showing, in close focus, the quick intelligence and versatility of this bass-baritone. Here are Sarastro's "heil'gen Hallen" and Bartolo's "vendetta": here is Papageno's "Vögelffinger"and Leporello's catalogue. Here, too, is a rare outing for Guglielmo's "Rivolgete a lui lo sguardo", as well as the more predictable "Donne mie, la fate a tanti" with opportunity aplenty for Figaro to voice not dissimilar sentiments.

To Figaro first, then. "Se vuol ballare" introduces both the full-bodied headiness of Furlanetto's voice, here turned to heavy irony, and his verbal acuity in the stinging rhyming gerundives of his anger against the Count. Such rage is sharpened by anguish in the energy of his "Tutto e disposto", mollified by mischief in his lightlyhandled "Non più', andrai".
With the Count's wig on, Furlanetto presents, by softening and darkening the voice, a contrasting tint of realization and affront. His voice is perhaps a little heavy for this role, but he finds its hauteur as convincingly as the rude spitting rage of a Masetto. Furlanetto has the range and true depth of Sarastro's "heil'gen Hallen", and by skilfully lightening the line within its ponderous tread, makes each stanza truly melodic. He is a broadly smiling Natural Man, too, for Papageno. His feet are rhythmically firm on the ground when introducing himself, yet his imagination can make him a passionate enough lover in "Ein Mddchen oder Weibchen". There is a nice moment of hushed anticipation hanging over the word "Elysium", and more than one sob in the voice.
As Leporello, too, he enjoys anticipated love, if only vicariously, in a catalogue song which moves mercurially from the snapping rhythm of its short lines to the elision of imagined seduction. The accompaniment of the Vienna Symphony Orchestra under Ion Mann is lively, serviceable and unremarkable throughout.
-- Gramophone [3/1992]

Italian Operas Composers' Songs

This set contains both ADD and DDD recordings.

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

This is a distinctively sung, vigorously, often sensitively conducted and played, faithfully recorded reading of the old favourite that should please anyone looking for a well-integrated modern version. My enthusiasm goes rather further in the case of Millo's reading of the title role. In the interview on page 1968, the diva tells us that she has listened to most of the notable interpreters from the past, distant and not so distant, and the study shows not in any imitative way but in an authentically spinto kind of singing that has been hard to discern in other recent renderings. The firm yet vibrant, dark-hued, voluptuous tone is leavened by an appealing brightness at the top and an ability to float that is wholly natural, never contrived. Listen to "Pieta ti prenda" in the scene with Amneris or "Numi pieta" at its end and you'll hear how Millo is able to shade her timbre and her phrasing in a way that ideally matches the music.

The conflicting emotions of "Ritorna vincitor" are faithfully delineated, the reflective, elegiac mood of "0 patria mia" perfectly caught, with the final awkward passage managed par excellence. Still better is the instinctively right shading in "La, tra, foreste vergine" in the Act 3 duet with Radames and the poised singing of "0 terra addio" in the finale (although she here fails one dolcissimo test). In these examples the voice is all of a piece and the legato seamless. All this confirms the excellent impression Mil lo made on me when the opera was televized from the Metropolitan a couple of years back, a performance that delighted not a few seasoned buffs. After hearing the whole interpretation, I took down from the shelves some famous prima donne on disc: Millo was shown to be more youthful than Milanov on the Perlea/RCA (but it's that great diva at her best that Millo most potently recalls), more vocally appealing than Tebaldi for Karajan (Decca), more reliable in voice than Callas for Serafin/EMI (though not so unique in accents), more involved and as technically skilled than Price (in her first version on Decca under Solti), fuller in tone than Caballe (Muti/EMI). I wouldn't claim that in every respect Millo is superior to these formidable sopranos or to Giannini on the old HMV set now on Rodolphe/Harmonia Mundi and Pearl, simply that she is at least their peer on this evidence.

Millo is the most urgent reason for acquiring this set, but she is worthily supported by Domingo, offering his fourth and, I would judge, best Radames to date. Try "Celeste Aida", or even better the start of the final scene, to learn how much more refined the great tenor's reading has become. In the latter passage, he sings in a mezza voce he has never attempted in the past; indeed, throughout, the approach is more thoughtful. In forte the voice may be very marginally more stretched than, say, in Muti's 1974 set, still a very strong contender, but the difference is slight. When he is finally gone from the scene, we shall treasure his sterling performances, even if we shall still think in this instance that Pertile (Sabajno), Corelli (Mehta/EMI) and Vickers (Sol ti) are the ones with true Radames voices. By the way, at the end of his aria Levine and Domingo opt for the Toscanini solution—forte high B flat followed by a piano B flat an octave lower.

So much more at home in Verdi than he is in Mozart and Wagner, James Levine conducts a performance that captures the cut and thrust of the public scenes in the first part of the opera and the private anxieties and confrontations of the second. Learning a great deal from Toscanini's reading (RCA), he reveals details of orchestration often overlooked by other conductors though certainly not by Muti. His matching of tempos and general pacing (though some speeds, like that for the final scene, are on the slow side) seem to me well conceived and attentive to the histrionic needs of the well-tried piece. He is supported by the Met orchestra, once more in splendid form. The chorus is, for better and worse, not Italianate, that is to say it is more precise, less wobbly than the choruses on some other versions, but also wanting a shade in pungency.

I shall not be dispensing with my Callas/Serafin set or my Caballe/Muti or the readings headed by Giannini (Sabajno) and Milanov (Perlea), all of which are well-tried, treasurable experiences. But the new contender, which has many similarities with the grandly sung Solti (down to the feeling that one is sitting rather near the brass), deserves to be heard in their company, most of all for its very special Aida.

-- Gramophone [5/1991]

There is certainly blood aplenty in these bleeding chunks. As Salome kisses the mouth of Jokanaan, the lunar beauty at the core of Jane Eaglen’s dramatic lyric soprano reminds us not only of the chilling purity of Salome’s corruption, but of just what we are missing in hearing Eaglen live so little in Britain.

The partnership of Eaglen and the Israel Philharmonic under Zubin Mehta is at its strongest in the Richard Strauss tracks of this Mozart and Strauss compilation. The orchestra’s superbly balanced wind soloists create dark shadows for Guntram’s Freihild, as she reflects within them, at first perplexed and then, in unflaggingly focused voice, thankful for her love for the Minnesinger – and for the glory of her top B. If Ariadne’s distraction is captured rather less convincingly, then the sustained rapture of Die Aegyptische Helena’s “Zweite Brautnacht!” draws the full effulgence from Eaglen’s golden soprano in what seems to be one breathless sentence.

The five Mozart arias here remind us just what a formidable Mozartian Eaglen is; and one only wishes that Mehta were her equal in this respect. I found myself constantly longing for a livelier orchestral presence, warmer phrasing, more discriminating support. Eaglen’s bleached tone in Donna Anna’s “Non mi dir” gives way to some considerable tension in the florid, high-lying passages, and the matter-of-fact, even peremptory accompaniment of “Or sai chi l’onore” doesn’t help her in what becomes a somewhat shrill revelation.

Eaglen’s own skills at pacing and charging with emotion Electra’s passages of accompanied recitative make for real momentum, lit by a bright platinum gleam in the voice in “Oh smania! ... D’Oreste, d’Aiace”; and her instinctive phrasing gives eloquent voice to Electra’s more demure moments in “Idol mio”.'

-- Hilary Finch, Gramophone [6/1998]

REVIEW:

Orfeo's ongoing series of major Dvorák operas and choral works constitutes a genuinely important contribution to the history of recordings, and I hope that it will continue as successfully as it has to this point. There is no other way to get fully acceptable, modern performances of masterworks such as Vanda, or St. Ludmila, and this new recording of The Jacobin, the first in many decades, may be the best of all. There's no other opera quite like it. As a comedy with serious elements, you really would have to go back to Mozart to find anything similar, even though the rustic village setting and plot remain very different from anything that you would have found in an 18th-century setting.

The story is simple, but quite moving. Count Harasov has disowned his only son Bohus as a result of his pro-revolutionary (French) sympathies, which have been exaggerated and distorted by the presciently-named Adolf, the count's nephew and now his presumptive heir. With the death of his wife the count wishes to retire and leave Adolf in charge, along with his pompous henchman, the Burgomaster Filip, who has his sights set on the lively and luscious Terinka, daughter of the village music master Benda. Terinka wanted to marry Jirí, a young hothead and (not incidentally) Benda's prized tenor. Into this situation step Bohus and his French wife Julia, refugees who in fact have a price on their heads arising from their opposition to the atrocities committed in the name of the Revolution.

The ultimate reconciliation between father and son is the primary theme of the opera, but it also has important sub-themes: love of one's country, the love of Benda for his daughter, the conflict between generations, the triumph of egalitarian ideals, and everyone's love of music. It is in fact music, in the form of the dead countess' lullaby sung by Julia to the embittered count, that brings about the happy ending. There's also a brilliant set-piece rehearsal (at the beginning of Act 2) of a homage cantata composed by Benda. It's fabulous. All of the characters, save for the evil Adolph, are fully fleshed out human beings, and the music follows the twists and turns of the plot with the sure hand of a master. The distribution of voices also is very effective: Filip is a bass; the Count, Bohus, and Adolph are baritones; Jirí and Benda are tenors, while Julia and Terinka are sopranos. This makes for some wonderful ensemble writing both with and without the chorus. It is simply impossible to listen to this piece and not conclude that Dvorák was as fine a composer of opera as he was at just about everything else that he touched.

With only a single (but excellent) previous recording available on Supraphon, there's not much competition in this piece, but this newcomer is every bit as fine as its predecessor. Among the women, Andrea Danková's Julia stands out for her beautiful tone and the conviction she brings to her Act 3 confrontation with the count, also very well sung by Christoph Stephinger. Marcin Bronikowski brings virility and intelligence to his portrait of Bohus, and his singing (along with Danková) of the big Act 2 duet "We have wandered in foreign lands" is both moving and impassioned. Michal Lehotsky and Lívia Ághová make a lively pair of young lovers, and Peter Mikulás makes Filip sound aptly bombastic without hamming it up too much.

Gerd Albrecht leads the entire cast, choirs, and orchestra in as vital and persuasive an account of the score as did his counterpart on Supraphon, Jirí Pinkas, and he has much better sonics and the excellent Cologne Radio Orchestra at his disposal. The libretto includes a full English translation and excellent notes. The only problem I can see is that at three CDs, this is an expensive set. Lasting two and a half hours, the work just barely fits on two discs, which is how Supraphon presents it (the timings are virtually identical in comparison), but the quality of the results here justifies the premium price. After all, until the rest of the world wakes up to just how great this work is and starts producing it as often as we see Rusalka, we're not exactly spoiled for choice, and I feel confident that you will fall in love with the music and play it often. So go ahead: treat yourself. This is what recordings are for.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com (10/10)

Live Recordings by Lisa della Casa. Composers: Gottfried Von Einem, Richard Strauss, Richard Wagner, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Conductors: Georges Pr tre, Georges Prêtre, Heinz Wallberg, Jaroslav Krombholc, Josef Krips, Joseph Keilberth, Karl B hm, Karl Böhm Orchestras: Vienna State Opera Orchestra

Classical Music

La damoiselle élue: Opera Arias

An unforgettable live-concert recording, selected from the Philharmonia Orchestra and Esa-Pekka Salonen's season of works by Béla Bartok - 'Infernal Dance'. Reviews of the concert from which this recording was taken: "John Tomlinson and Michelle DeYoung were vocally so commanding as to render "choreography" entirely superfluous. Tomlinson's cavernous voice seemed to embody the very interior world of his castle - its sadness, darkness, emptiness - his Hungarian so vivid and expressive in itself that it became another sonority in Bartók's aural palette. He was quite extraordinary. Musically stunning ..." The Arts Desk "The part of Judith was well taken by Michelle DeYoung but it was the portrayal of Tomlinson that stole the show. At first predatory and prowling - no one can prowl like John Tomlinson - he visibly collapsed into himself as his secrets were exposed. And never was that magnificently gnarled tone put to better use." The Evening Standard

Also available on standard DVD

Ten years after his death, the Paris Opera Ballet payed homage to the American choreographer who considered the Paris Opera as his second home after New York City Ballet. The three pieces performed here illustrate not only the diversity of the choreographer's repertoire and sources of inspiration, but also his love of music and his all-embracing attitude to the performing arts. Jerome Robbins brought new energy to classical dance, introducing 20th century urban rhythms, confirming its status as a modern entertainment form and instilling it with the interrogations of contemporary theatre. En Sol, set to Maurice Ravel's Concerto en sol, follows no particular narrative line or dramatic effect. Echoing the music's jazzy invitations and light-heartedly copying Broadway style, this is a light and joyous piece for two soloists and an ensemble. It provided Jerome Robbins with an opportunity to reveal the relaxed, fluid feel so emblematic of his style.

In the Night and The Concert are two tributes to Frederic Chopin, each in a different register. Seeking to free the composer from the commonplaces that have often belittled his music, Robbins transforms Les Nocturnes into In the Night, a long and poetic pas de deux built like a metaphor of love in all its states. The Concert joins the ranks of the few comic ballets in the history of dance. Taking as its point of departure images inspired by some of Chopin’s more fancifully entitled scores, Jerome Robbins' piano recital is a comic plea for the cause of human vulnerability.

The fact that, at the very same period, he was contributing to the renewal of the musical by bringing a tragic side to his West Side Story, only underlines his insatiable thirst for originality and his immense talent for freely combining genres and styles. Lastly, Benjamin Millepied, who made his dance debut with Robbins in New York, dedicates his second creation for the Paris Opera Ballet, Triade, to the choreographer. "Dance is composed of human relations", Robbins used to say. A worthy heir to his master, Benjamin Millepied matches this credo through a fruitful dialogue with composer Nico Muhly.

CDs of opera and oratorio arias and duets by Handel are hardly a rare event. Last year’s 250th anniversary of the composer’s death lead to something of a glut in the market. In this respect, Chandos - under its early music Chaconne label - has made a wise choice in waiting until this year to release this recording of dramatic duets. It enables us to sit back and assess it on its own terms rather than as yet another anniversary act of homage.

And this disc really is worth considering closely. Superbly recorded, it sounds alive, clear and acoustically rich. It also features a well balanced programme, mixing operatic with oratorio duets that cover the full range of emotional experiences endured by Handel’s characters – from painful separation to joyous reunion; and from loving harmony to malign scheming.

The playing from the English Concert under Harry Bicket is excellent. Their performance is a fully ‘authentic’ affair on original instruments, with the usual sections of the baroque orchestra augmented by organ, archlute and baroque guitar. The recording balance brings them more to the fore than is often the case in Handel recordings, and turns them from stage supporters, to fully fledged actors in each of the short scenarios. Take for example the painterly introduction to ‘To thee, thou glorious son of worth’ from Theodora (track 6), or the plaintive flutes that accompany ‘Vivo in te’ from Tamerlano (track 9).

And what of the two soloists – soprano Rosemary Joshua and mezzo Sarah Connolly? Both are experienced Handelians in the recording studio and, more importantly, on stage, and therefore bring an insight, vigour and commitment to each of their roles. Their voices are also sufficiently varied to enable the listener to differentiate between them: Joshua’s is bright and lithe; Connolly’s warm and supple. Occasionally their blend is a little indistinct – in ‘Notte cara!’ from Ottone, for example (track 5) – and Connolly’s characterisation of roles originally sung by male castrati could do with a little beefing up. But for sheer vocal beauty, there is very little to fault.

John-Pierre Joyce, MusicWeb International

"This is what happens when you give every bar of Handel’s music its own raison d’être and breathe every wisp of nuance into his flavourful duets and those prolonged “da capo” arias. This concert, delivered by the English Concert under Harry Bicket, offered two artists of great refinement: Connolly and the elegant soprano Rosemary Joshua. Actually, there was a third great artist here, too: Bicket led his ensemble with both dramatic concision and pungent expression."

-- The Times (London)

Classical Music

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