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.

Her nickname "La Superba" can be comprehended by any non-Spanish speaker, and the passion of this Spanish soprano translates into every language. Her talent for shifting from power to delicacy is on display all across these 2 CDs as she performs pieces from Verdi's La Traviata and Rigoletto ; Puccini's La Boheme ; Wagner's Tristan Und Isolde ; Verdi's Requiem Mass (CD debut), and more!

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

Martinu: Epic of Gilgamesh (The)

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.

Mozart: Don Giovanni

Elisabeth Meyer-Topsøe’s debut CD (KPT 32156) was Editor’s Choice in Gramophone (Jan. 94). “An impressive new soprano” (Gramophone) “Here is a discovery, perhaps the most promising Jugendlich-Dramatische soprano to burst on the scene since Studer…a burgeoning talent with almost limitless possibilities…” (Alan Blyth, Gramophone)

Opera Suites, Vol. 3

Lulu

Opera Suites, Vol. 2

Opera Suites, Vol. 1

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

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 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]