Classical Music

Marc-Antoine Charpentier's Actéon is a pastorale or miniature opera based on Greek mythology. Staged in 1684, the story is about the hunter Actaeon who peeks at the bathing goddess Diana, turned into a red deer, pursued and killed by his own hounds. The music is continuously imaginative with rhythmic choral parts, elegant solos and dramatic flourishes.

GREAT OPERA (10-CD Box set)

The very first operas were performed in Florence in the mid-1590s. Since then, musical styles have blossomed and evolved out of all recognition, yet opera continues to be heavily influenced by the political, social and cultural contexts surrounding its genesis. A collaborative enterprise, an opera brings together the works of composers, librettists, singers and designers alike, generating rich veins of public response and resulting in what is surely the most dramatic of all musical media. In this collection, we have brought together some of the most-loved operas, ranging from the elegance of Mozart’s Don Giovanni to the raw emotion of Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana. The lighthearted japes of Rossini’s Barber of Seville contrast royally with the pomp and spectacle of Verdi’s Aida, whilst the sultry allure of Bizet’s Carmen is the perfect foil to the lachrymose tragedy of Puccini’s La Bohème. This box is sure to entice any listener further into the magical world of opera.

Reviews of some of the original recordings that make up this set:

Don Giovanni
"Stanley Sadie once remarked that all Don GiOV117111iS should have an Italian somewhere in the cast, and it certainly helps this one to get off to a good start when Renato Girolami voices his 'None e giorno faticar' with an authentic accent and good Italianate resonance. Skovhus's Giovanni has lost something in vocal quality since the Mackerras recording, but he lives the role with conviction. A firm and sonorous Commendatore and a Masetto due for promotion strengthen the cast, while the Ottavio adds to its interest: a capable singer, who in his determination to make something positive out of this generally ineffectual character produces a charmless, rather hectoring champion brought in from some other opera, and not one by Mozart. Of the women, Adrianne Pieczonka, the Anna, is best, with clear, bright tones that just occasionally want hoisting a fraction higher to take those high As right in the centre. The Elvira is sympathetic and meets many of the technical challenges. The Zerlina, no soubrette but more a lyrical mezzo, has the knack of singing 'visibly'."

-- Gramophone [12/2011]

II barbiere di Siviglia
"Naxos's spirited new recording of II barbiere di Siviglia seems for all the world to have the crackling spontaneity of a live performance, replete with clever sound effects: creaking doors, rattling keys, tuning of instruments. But this is, in fact, an expertly mastered studio recording without the drawbacks of a noisy live audience. In other words, the best of both worlds.

The cast is bursting with future stars. It would not surprise me if the Almaviva, Ramon Vargas, were eventually to emerge as the superstar lyric tenor to follow the fading Luciano Pavarotti. Vargas can already do many things that Pavarotti never fully mastered, such as singing a true mezza voce tone, executing a messa di voce, and spinning out a genuine pianissimo. In fact, I think Vargas is the most thrilling lyric tenor to appear since the recordings of one Nino Florio were issued in 1944. (The world discovered Florio as Giuseppe di Stefano just a few years later!)

Ramon Vargas's recorded recital debut was reviewed in Fanfare 16:1 by Ralph V. Lucano, who admired his “bright, steady, ringing voice, seamlessly produced from bottom to top“ but found him “a bit monotonous in timbre“ and “a rather dour fellow.“ That isn't the case in this Naxos II barbiere di Siviglia, and Vargas emerges as the most seductively charming Almaviva on records, as well as one of the most vocally accomplished, vividly articulate in Rossini's divisions...Roberto Servile displays a fine cantante baritone as Figaro, exploding with energy and vigor in “Largo al factotum“...His bright idiomatic Figaro recalls those of Tito Gobbi and Gino Bechi. Another star in the making.

Of the three lead singers, Sonia Ganassi, an authentic contralto Rosina, is a true rarity in II barbiere recordings. The original Rosina, Geltrude Righetti-Giorgi ( was a contralto, and now for the first time in a complete II barbiere recording, modern audiences can hear the duets and ensembles weighted as Rossini conceived them. Though several mezzo Rosinas have produced good low notes in these ensembles (the brilliant Jennifer Larmore being the most recent), it is a revelation to hear Ganassi's rich contralto. The excellence of the cast continues with the veteran Angelo Romero's delightful buffo Dr. Bartolo, and Franco de Grandis's booming Don Basilio. The conductor, Will Humburg, expertly and judiciously paces the fine Failoni Chamber Orchestra."

-- James Camner, Fanfare [7/1994]

La boheme
"Orgonasova's Mimi is impressive, indeed, her only real flaw is a slight reluctance to use her words expressively; perhaps (she has worked mainly in Czechoslovakia and at smaller houses in Germany) she has sung the role rather seldom in Italian? She sings expressively, with touching characterization and a real knowledge, which makes her death scene moving, of what can be achieved by quietness and purity of tone. In fact there is a good deal of intimacy to this reading, which helps the light-voiced, not really Rodolfo-size tenor to make his mark; a pity that he won't always allow himself to be helped, and that a touch of strain occasionally shows. The Iviarcello is light-voiced, too, but vividly alive, the Colline sounds a bit plummy but the small-scale Musetta is much more than serviceable. Humburg's direction is very alert, but he rarely seems as hasty and never plods. A decent recording, too, with a good sense of space. Well worth consideration by the hard-up collector, or by someone hoping to convert a young relative to opera, or simply by the collector of promising voices: we shall hear more of Orgonasova."

-- M.E.O., Gramophone [4/1991]

FALL The Rose of Stambul • John Frantzen, cond; Kimberly McCord ( Kondja Gül ); Alison Kelly ( Midili Hanum ); Erich Buchholz ( Fridolin Müller ); Gerald Frantzen ( Achmed Bey ); Robert Morrissey ( Mr. Müller Sr. ); Chicago Folks Operetta • NAXOS 8.660326/27 (2 CDs: 120:20) Live: Chicago 8/8/2011


In 1916, Leo Fall’s latest operetta Die Rose von Stambul enjoyed a remarkable run of 422 performances at the Theater an der Wien, as the war brought rationing to Vienna, and as the cultures the story celebrated spiraled to their destruction. Though it eventually did come to the United States in 1922, the operetta was never performed here in anything like its original form. That occurred for the first time in the summer of 2011 when it was mounted by the Chicago Folks Operetta. This small but enterprising company—the brainchild and continuing passion of husband and wife team Gerald Frantzen and Alison Kelly—is dedicated to reviving neglected operettas from the early part of the 20th century. Die Rose von Stambul certainly qualifies. Fall never achieved the lasting success that rival composers Emmerich Kálmán (his daughter Yvonne is a CFO sponsor) and Franz Lehár did. And timing was simply against this creation. But there are lilting Viennese waltzes, charming if dated comedy centering on lovely women having their way with their foolish, chauvinistic, and/or love-sotted men, and exotic locales and musical flavoring befitting the ever popular setting of the Turkish seraglio. Only the most confirmed curmudgeon could resist the fun. Bravo CFO for bringing it back.


Unlike its earlier American production, where much of the score was replaced, we are assured, in translator Hersh Glagov’s informative essay, that Chicago Folks Operetta “has not changed a note of Fall’s marvelous music.” Though this is likely the 1917 Berlin revision, fair enough. Still, it would be nicer if those involved could have produced those notes with a bit more flair. Conductor John Frantzen, brother of artistic director Gerald, provides a reasonable impression of Viennese style, but his thin, often scrappy 19-piece orchestra works against the beauty of the music. The women’s chorus, harem sisters à la the Grisettes of The Merry Widow , is exuberant but also a bit rough. The waltzes need more schwung , the dances more refinement to go with the general vivacity, and some of the dialog needs more, well, acting.


The two sopranos are both strong vocalists. Kimberly McCord—who sings what I believe is the expanded version of the role created for Fritzi Massary in 1917—has nice control, range, and style, an appealingly warm tone, and some sparkle on top. Alison Kelly is an accomplished soubrette with excellent comic timing. Comic tenor Erich Buchholz has a strong lyric voice and a good feel for the idiom. In a part that is more spoken than sung, baritone Robert Morrissey sounds like he comes from Pittsburgh rather than Hamburg—he impersonates Wallace Shawn in The Princess Bride rather well—but he sings the short part of Müller agreeably. The players in the small spoken roles are community-theater league, but let that pass. It is, I’m sorry to say, tenor Gerald Frantzen who disappoints. He is stiff, can’t hold an extended note steadily little less swell it, and produces strangled sounds at the top of his range where Fall makes the greatest demands. The basic tone of the voice is decent enough in the middle reaches, and has some heft, but is not well equalized and shows clear signs of wear. (Perhaps recording live after the run was not a good idea.) He is shown at a particular disadvantage in his duets with McCord, who clearly has the voice and temperament to give the waltzes their due. Perhaps all would have been better if he and Buchholz had swapped parts, as the comic tenor here has the goods to sing the big numbers and has the looks, as well. If I seem harsh, simply listen to Frantzen and then to Fritz Wunderlich singing any of these arias. Or if that comparison seems unreasonably prejudicial, how about mere mortal Rudolf Schock, or almost any tenor currently recording operettas for Naxos or CPO?


But enough… Die Rose von Stambul is a major work by a neglected master of a musical genre that has too much fallen out of favor. Yes, the plot is silly. This one depends on an easily resolved love triangle with an “invisible rival” of the hero’s own devising, so perhaps it is sillier than most. And the early 20th-century attitudes toward women and Eastern culture can be cringe-inducing. However, the music is delightful, and the burlesque is generally not overdone. The English libretto is available as a download from the Naxos site. The dialog occasionally turns topical—the gay references and the bellhop speaking in rhymed couplet like Fezzik are contemporary—and a war-time reference like Fridolin’s offer to Midili of “two kilos of flour” is changed into “a hundred pairs of shoes.” Still, it seems fairly true to what I know of the original and is reasonably singable. The audio production, identified as a single live recording, is good, though my ears tell me that the dialog was recorded separately. The rather unsubtle sound effects—foot steps, doors opening, ice cubes clinking in glasses, etc.—support that impression. One last niggle: the production poster by Rose Frantzen—another family member, assumedly—reproduced on the cover of the CD, seems wildly out of keeping with the story and the times, eye-catching as it may be.


All reservations aside—and I’ve spent a lot of space enumerating them—this is something most Viennese operetta fanciers will want to hear. Recommended with the caveats cited.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

A great work; possibly the composer’s masterpiece.

I have to hold my hand up. In spite of thinking myself as being one of the world’s biggest enthusiasts of British music, I had my doubts about this opera when I heard that it was due to be released. I could not possibly imagine the claim that somehow this two and three quarter hour, three-act marathon by Sir George Alexander Macfarren could be anything other than a mediocre, third rate production from one of the ‘leading lights’ from the notorious ‘Land without Music’. Especially extravagant were claims that Robin Hood is ‘a work of musical genius superior to any works of Verdi or Donizetti, [and] doubtless the chef d’oeuvre of the English school’. Hardly likely, I thought. Perhaps, just perhaps, I was able to concede that this opera may have been ‘very full of good fun and on the way to Sullivan’. How utterly wrong-headed can I have been?

The critic of English opera can work in at least two directions. He can begin with John Blow’s masque Venus and Adonis followed by Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas, The Fairy Queen and King Arthur and work down the years by considering the works of Thomas Arne, such as Thomas and Sally. He can then explore the influence of Handel whose operas were unbelievably popular in the middle of the eighteenth century although, it must be recalled that he was a German who had visited Italy! My edition of the Harvard Dictionary of Music quite boldly states that ‘the writing of serious operas by English composers of the first rank practically ceased until the 20 ^th century.’ This prejudice tends to ignore works such as Michael Balfe’s The Bohemian Girl, W.V. Wallace’s Maritana and Julius Benedict’s The Lily of Killarney. These once extremely popular works were regarded as operas and not as operetta, in spite of their being ‘not too heavy’ in their theme and content. At the end of this period comes Sullivan – both with and without William Schwenck Gilbert.

Other critics will work backwards. Perhaps starting with Harrison Birtwistle’s Punch and Judy they regress through the great operas by Benjamin Britten and Ralph Vaughan Williams. There are sometimes a few digressions to Tippett, Berkeley and Maconchy. However at the end of the day, they too end up with Sullivan before promptly dismissing him. They then investigate the purer waters of Purcell.

Somewhere in the middle of all this historical exploration is Sir George Alexander Macfarren who wrote a number of operas including Allan of Aberfeldy, King Charles II, She Stoops to Conquer, Helvellyn and Robin Hood. David Chandler has defined the opera’s status as follows: -

‘ Robin Hood certainly anticipates Ivanhoe and some later attempts at a truly English style of opera, but it also marks the end of an era. It belongs to the last and greatest period of the Victorian English romantic opera, along with Loder’s Raymond and Agnes (1855), Wallace’s exactly contemporaneous Lurline (1860), the same composer’s The Amber Witch (1861), and Benedict’s The Lily of Killarney (1862). It is totally distinct from these contemporary works however, and an impressive monument to Macfarren’s enduring and largely successful efforts to fashion a truly English species of musical theatre, at once looking back and looking forwards.’

It is a bold endeavour indeed to embark on reviving an opera that many people will regard as being well past its sell by date. To consider making a recording is heroic. It is almost certain this will be the one and only version produced in our lifetimes. It has to be good: it has to sell the music and create something well beyond the experience of visiting a ‘museum’. There was considerable work involved in restoring the performing edition: the parts had gone missing and the full score was written in a ‘spidery hand’. This mammoth task was undertaken by Dr. Valerie Langfield. It is not just a case of copying out the bars into Sibelius and pressing the ‘print score and parts’ button. There was a heap of technical issues, such as the fact the Macfarren used a three-stringed double bass and horns with interchangeable crooks.

The CD liner-notes provide a synopsis of the opera and the full libretto is available on the Naxos website. However it will do no harm to give a thumbnail sketch of the story. The libretto was written by John Oxenford (1812–1877) who made use of a number of motifs from the corpus of Robin Hood stories as well as Sir Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe.

The first act sees Robin Hood disguised as Locksley, who is a suitor of Marian, the Sheriff of Nottingham’s daughter. The second act portrays the robbery of the Abbot or as presented here the ‘sompnour’ and this is followed by the archery contest which Robin/Locksley wins and receives the hand of Marian. However the sompnour recognizes Robin who is cast into prison. The third act has Marian fleeing to the forest to summon Robin Hood’s followers who naturally come to the rescue. All ends happily with the death warrant received from King John actually being a pardon. Robin and Marion are reunited and there is ‘general rejoicing.’ Naturally there are many sub-plots and events worked into the story such as the ‘feasting in the forest’ and the ‘town fair’ scenes.

The score is full of attractive and often beautiful music that will leave the doubter speechless. It may not be Verdi or Donizetti - was all Verdi great? - but there is a quality of musical endeavour here that must surely strike the listener as being well beyond the perceived ‘dry as dust’ or overly sentimental qualities that have attached themselves to this period of British music. For example listen to Robin’s beautiful aria ‘My own, my guiding star’ from Act Two (CD2 Track 3) or to Marian’s gorgeous offering of True Love in Act 1 (CD1 Track 6). This is operatic music at its best, not over the top, but moving and attractive. The patriotic ballad ‘Englishmen by birth are free’ (CD1 Track 9) must be one of the highlights of the opera: one can imagine it going down exceptionally well at the height of the Victorian era. It is certainly as good as any of Sullivan’s arias such as Lord Mountararat’s ‘When Britain really ruled the waves’. One of the hits at the time of the first performance was Robin and the Greenwood men’s ‘The Grasping Normans’ (CD1 Track 14). It is difficult to say that any part of the opera is weak or falls below the standards set by these ‘hits’.

The performers in this groundbreaking recording are the Victorian Opera Chorus and Orchestra. Their mission is to record lost or forgotten operatic works by British composers. They are joined by the John Powell Singers. The soloists are professional and the chorus and orchestra are drawn from a variety of local groups and societies. The quality of the singing from the principals and chorus is excellent. All the players are kept in order by Ronald Corp, who has drawn an outstanding performance from all concerned.

The liner-notes are first-rate, the sound quality superb and the cover picture of ‘The Edge of Sherwood Forest’ is totally appropriate. Altogether a great production.

Let us hope that one day this work will be seen in all its glory on the stage: it is just the sort of opera that would go down a treat at the Buxton Festival. Meanwhile, the story of Robin Hood is so well known that even the least imaginative of listeners can provide the mental backcloth, scenery and props to this well-loved story.

So I was wrong. Robin Hood has seriously impressed me. As preparation for this review I have listened to it two or three times as well as picking out the purple passages. The more I hear this music the more it appears competent, attractive, often beautiful, sometimes moving and always interesting. And I am not an opera buff! In fact, I am coming to love it as much as I love G&S.

This is a CD that all opera fans ought to have. Some people will ignore it simply because it was written by an Englishman during Queen Victoria’s reign. They would be utterly misguided to do so. This is a great work; possibly the composer’s masterpiece and is a light opera (not operetta) that can hold its best up against anything offered by the Italians and the French and the Germans from the same period.

-- John France, MusicWeb International

This brand-new recording of Orfeo lacks thrills and grand vocal displays, and the results are beautiful indeed. Purposely eschewing what opera turned into within a half-century of this, the purported first entirely extant opera, Andrew Parrott, with 40 years of experience and scholarship under his belt, has opted to present a “favola in musica” rather than the later notation, a “dramma per musica”. The distinction is one of size, scope, and focus.

The performances that were given of Orfeo at the court of Mantua were neither fully-staged nor opulent; there is mention of a “curtain” but the room itself was salon-sized and the purpose of the event was to appreciate the combination of poetry and music. There were no singing stars; the purpose of the show was not virtuosity. It was an experiment for the heightening of the text by music.

With that in mind, this exquisite, delicate reading is a glorious alternative to, say, the Philip Pickett, René Jacobs, or Nikolaus Harnoncourt performances (let alone the heartbreaking Emmanuel Haim reading on Virgin), which are interested in Orfeo as a piece of theater, designed to “impress” and possibly stun. Parrott’s show places equal emphasis on the music and text—the words are delivered flawlessly, with strength where needed, but utterly devoid of melodrama. The drama is in the sadness of both words and music. It’s almost like Mozart in that respect: his operas rarely need to be “interpreted”; if the singers and players follow the music and text scrupulously, an effect will be made. It may not engender shock and awe, but the tale will be told, without over-emphasizing or exaggeration.

And that is what we get here. The first CD begins with the sound of a few people chattering, and the Gonzaga fanfare is first heard from a distance. Then it comes a bit closer—in a different key (this is not explained), which is a bit jarring but certainly makes us pay attention. The first voice we hear—La Musica—is that of countertenor David Hurley, perhaps the purest male adult voice I’ve ever heard (including Phillip Jaroussky’s). It is light as a feather, and music itself.

Charles Daniels is a wonderful Orfeo—sweet and gentle—and he handles the amazingly difficult “Possente spirto” and “Orfeo son io” in the third act beautifully, with every note clear and focused, but without any grandstanding. His legato (this entire performance is all about the unstoppability of music as exhibited by superb legato playing and singing from everyone) is a thing of wonder. Caronte, in the person of Curtis Streetman, also singing smoothly (and with a sensational trillo on the word “canto”), brings out some forte, impassioned pleading from Daniels’ Orefo—all the more effective since all else has been so understated.

Emily van Evera’s Messaggiera is a problem—her voice is too bright and she is too matter-of-fact for someone delivering such terrible news—but her Prosperina is so lovely that Christopher Purves’ Plutone must give in to her request. Faye Newton’s Eurydice is particularly effective in her final farewell, with its weird-and-weirder chromatic lines. Some might argue that the Infernal Spirits are not menacing enough; I would direct their attention to the accompaniment of the three trombones and two bass trombones, which add enough darkness to hide the sun. The only other concession to this being a staged work is the gradual disappearance of Apollo (finely sung by Guy Melc) and Orfeo near the opera’s close, since there is in fact a stage direction in the score that states that they “ascend”.

There are 29 instrumentalists, 14 of whom are string players; several of the singers play double roles. The harmonies in the choruses are spotless, with the men’s voices impeccably matched; this is some of the smoothest singing I’ve ever heard. Pitch is A=440 (most other recordings use A=465) which adds to the ease of production and mellow, sad telling of this well-known tale. The sound is pristine.

This may not be an only choice for a version of Orfeo; it’s an alternative, possibly thoroughly accurate reading of the favola. But its poetic approach is an ideal companion to the more aggressive, later 17th and early 18th century “operatic” readings mentioned above, with Haim’s probably first.

– Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

First presented in 1734, Oreste isn't quite an "opera" by Handel. Rather, it's a pastiche, albeit put together by the composer himself for the cast who would star the following month in the newly composed Ariodante. Oreste, whose plot is much the same as Gluck's Iphigenie en Tauride, is almost entirely (there are a couple of newly composed dance sequences) made up of arias from the composer's other operas, some going back as far as 1707. There are bits of Partenope, Sosarme, Tamerlano, Rodrigo, Lotario, Ottone, Agrippina, and other operas, all here in different contexts, most with different texts and most arranged in slightly different ways. If this were the first Handel opera I'd ever heard, and I hadn't been told it was a collection of bits, I'd never know, and I'd be dazzled by it. Much to the composer's credit, the borrowings make an interesting whole, and the two hours and 25 minutes go by with alacrity, the dramatic moments piling one upon the other.

And as with any works by Handel, especially those designed for the greatest singers of his day, paramount to even the slightest success is a strong sense of what constitutes Baroque style and the ability of the performers to negotiate complicated vocal lines. So without a recognizable name in the crowd, you have to wonder, are these unknown singers--all of them Greek or of Greek parentage--up to their tasks? The answer is a delightful "yes".

In the castrato role of Oreste, Canadian-born mezzo Mary Ellen Nesi is a real find. The voice is expressive and handsome, and she has no trouble with the rapid passagework or with Handel's smoother lines that require a true legato. She is a singer to keep an eye on: even in our chock-full-of-good-mezzos time, she's worth hearing. Mata Katsuli as Ifigenia sings with a whitish tone that at times sounds unhealthy, but she too is "in" her role. Ermione (Orestes' wife, not in the Gluck, but apparently in the neighborhood of Tauride) is the big soprano role, and Maria Mitsopoulou has the temperament and the technique, and only some nasty top notes mar her performance. As the villainous Toante, bass Petros Magoulas is fluent and arresting. His captain, Filotete, is well done by the opaque-voiced countertenor Nicholas Spano, and tenor Antonis Koroneos as Oreste's pal Pilade is remarkable with his coloratura, but his voice almost entirely lacks body. George Petrou leads the expert Camerata Stuttgart with sensitivity to the singers, although you sometimes wish he had pushed them a bit more. In short, yes, it's a pasticcio, but it's terrific Handel, it's dramatically coherent, and it will make a good addition to your collection.
--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

William Vincent Wallace may not be a household name to today’s music-lovers but from 1845 until the end of the 19th century he was very popular as an operatic composer. He is not completely forgotten, however, and I knew at least an excerpt from his first opera, Maritana, from a Joan Sutherland record. On Marco Polo there is also a complete recording of the opera. Excerpts from Maritana coupled with music from a couple of other roughly contemporaneous British operas are available on EMI and on the Australian label Melba Deborah Riedel sings several Wallace arias plus others by Balfe, Faraday and Sullivan. Ms Riedel was scheduled to sing the role of Ghiva on the present recording of Lurline but died before the project could be carried through. The recording is dedicated to her memory.

The libretto is based on the legend of Lorelei, the 132 metre high rock on the eastern bank of the Rhine. In Heine’s poem Die Lore-Ley a kind of siren sings from the outcrop and distracts shipmen so that they crash into the rock. In this opera she falls in love with a human being, a young nobleman. When the River King hears this he knows that this will lead to her death. How the story ends I won’t reveal, which is a sneaky way of forcing readers to buy these two discs to find out.

And it is worth the moderate costs, since the music is wholly agreeable and the singing and playing, despite some blemishes, on a quite high level. The performing edition is by Richard Bonynge, who has done great things in dusting off long-forgotten operas and giving them a new lease of life. One can at once in the long overture hear that Wallace was a skilled orchestrator. The opening is an atmospheric description of a moonlit night on the Rhine, but the music becomes both lively and dramatic. When the imaginary curtain rises we are exposed once more to a serene and beautiful orchestral introduction, which is also woven into the recitative that follows and sung at the end before the aria.

So what does the music sound like? The easiest way of describing it is to see it as a forerunner of Sullivan. In a blindfold test I am sure many listeners would believe some of the melodies to be from one of the Savoy operas. Ingratiating and easy to hum they could comfortably command a place in any programme of light opera and operetta. What is missing is perhaps the tongue-in-cheek quality of some of Sullivan’s best creations and the glint in the eye. On the other hand the story doesn’t exactly cry out for such qualities. There are also several rousing choruses that remind me of G&S and the act finales are skilfully structured to rise to slap-up climaxes. In particular it is in the second act that Wallace’s inspiration flows at its richest. Take the opening chorus (CD 1 tr. 19) or the Sullivanesque Chorus From his Palace of Crystal (CD 1 tr. 22). Rupert’s aria Sweet form (CD 1 tr. 23) is lovely and somewhat later Ghiva’s song Gentle Troubadour (CD 2 tr. 2 is catchy. Rhineberg’s The nectar cup may yield delight in ¾ time (CD 2 tr. 5) is another hit. No wonder it was such a success in the 1860s.

Act III also has several highlights. Rupert’s ballad (CD 2 tr. 13) again recalls G&S and Lurline’s Grand Scena (CD 2 tr. 18) should be a dream number for any high soprano. The prayer, in particular, is noble and beautiful. The final scene opens with a riveting chorus (CD 2 tr. 22) followed by a long duet between Rupert and Lurline. In the ensemble that concludes the opera Lurline returns to her opening solo in act I but now heavily embellished.

Sally Silver in the title role has a bright lyrical voice, sailing effortlessly up in the highest reaches of the soprano register. She negotiates the coloratura passages with supreme ease. Hers is a most sensitive reading of a role that is both other-worldly and deeply human. Veteran Keith Lewis, best known perhaps as a stylish Mozart singer, makes the most of Rupert’s role, nuanced and sensitive, but today his beautiful voice is afflicted by a disfiguring wobble on sustained notes. This is, however, compensated for by his ravishing pianissimo singing. The end of his air (CD 1 tr. 23) is excellent proof of his ability. David Soar is a powerful and intense Rhineberg but slightly strained at times. Donald Maxwell, another veteran, is a splendid Baron Truenfels and even better is Roderick Earle as the Gnome. Try CD 1 tr. 27 for proof. Fiona Janes is a vibrant and expressive Ghiva. The orchestral and choral forces are splendid under Richard Bonynge’s experienced leadership.

There is a synopsis in the booklet but the libretto - including the original stage directions shown in the 1860 libretto - can be bought separately.

Victorian Opera Northwest, which ‘was formed to promote the excellent music found in the operas and operettas of forgotten 19th Century British and Irish composers has certainly lived up to their aim. Together with Naxos they have enriched the operatic CD-catalogue. Maybe not a dramatic masterpiece but all lovers of 19th century opera, and lovers of good melodies should hasten to add this set to their collections.

-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International

Falla: Vida Breve (La)

Today Don Carlos is performed in French as it is in Italian. Different productions and recordings vary considerably, however, as regards the choice of scenes and music. The extent of the original material is such that directors, drama tourists and conductors tend to stage the work in a highly individualistic manner.

In 1996, Vox released a 4-CD set that included this, the original La Scala fiasco version of Madama Butterfly, as well as Puccini's revisions for Brescia and Paris. It was a fascinating release and fans of the opera immediately realized what had been wrong with the first version: The first act contained far too much "local color" in the form of music for Butterfly's relatives (there's even a drinking song for her uncle Yakuside), and the 90-minute last act, in addition to simply being too long in general, dragged out the overnight vigil, too abruptly went into Butterfly's lullaby to her child, and wasted an extra couple of minutes between Butterfly's final lines and her suicide--what on earth could she be doing? Puccini later trimmed away a great deal of fat, altered many, many notes and tonalities (it's a delight, actually, to note the differences), added Pinkerton's rueful "Addio fiorito asil" as well as Butterfly's heartbreaking recognition of Kate Pinkerton, and much more. (The ultimate "Ah! Morte!" at the close of her pathetic second-act narrative to Sharpless was an afterthought as well; originally her vision of returning to life as a geisha ends softly and less desperately.)

This is a very well sung performance. Bulgarian soprano Svetlana Katchour is a big lyric (going on spinto) with an attractive sound, her pitch is dead-center, the voice is well and evenly produced, and when her Italian isn't garbled, it's not bad. Her Butterfly is severely undercharacterized, however: she seems a bit shy in Act 1 and pretty unhappy in Act 2, but she never truly moves us as the greatest Butterflys (such as Dal Monte, Scotto, or Callas) do. Pity--the voice is marvelous. Tenor Bruce Rankin, having to make Pinkerton nothing but a cad (without his final, sympathetic aria), does so very well. His also is a lyric voice, but the sound is appealing, the technique in place, and a lively mind is clearly behind his interpretation. It will be nice to hear more of him.


Fredrika Brillemburg's Suzuki is right there with Butterfly, sympathetically and with nice tone in the Flower Duet. Baritone Heikki Kilpeläinen sounds very young for Sharpless, but it's a quality voice. Gunter Neuhold takes six minutes less in the first and 10 minutes less in the second act than Charles Rosekrans on Vox, and the latter hardly lags. I must admit that even though things occasionally do seem rushed on Naxos at 57 and 82 minutes respectively (per act), perhaps getting through them somewhat quickly is not such a bad idea. The Bremen Orchestra is very good, the chorus less so. Naxos' sound is excellent. The Vox performance featured an okay cast--no more. This new Naxos set is the one to own if you want the original, and fans of the opera (particularly at Naxos' price), will need this.
--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

With it's plot derived from Arthurian legend, Tristan und Isolde is considered by many to be the most harmonically daring and overtly sensual of the composer's operas. From the famous opening 'Tristan chord' of the Prelude, repeated at key points in the drama, to it's over-powering harmonic resolution at the end of the Liebestod (Love-Death), the opera is remarkable for the hypnotic power, physical longing and intense human emotion sustained over more than three years.

Rossini: Maometto Secondo

Gluck: Orfeo ed Euridice (first Vienna version, 1762)

Comprising four separate operas, Wagner' visionary Der Ring des Nibelungen took 25 years to complete. Centered around a ring of power and the attempts of various people to acquire it, the Ring cycle explores the relationship bet.

Comprising four separate operas, Wagner's visionary Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring of the Nibelung) took 25 years to complete. Centred around a ring of power and the attempts of various people to acquire it, the Ring cycle explores the relationship between love and earthly power and the themes of yearning and loss, all within a setting of medieval legend. The prologue Das Rheingold deals with the theft and subsequent surrender of the ring forged from the Rhinegold by the Nibelung dwarf Alberich.

Enescu: Oedipe

REVIEW:

Although the "golden age" of operetta has come and gone, composer Franz Lehár isn't in any real danger of being neglected so long as The Merry Widow continues to tread the boards of the world's stages. But as his first major "hit," and as an operetta stylistically limited by the constraints of contemporary fashion and tradition, The Merry Widow does not provide a full measure of the extent of Lehár's mastery as a composer. Zigeunerliebe (Gypsy Love) is a far better candidate for that qualification, and its first complete recording, now available from CPO, is reason for operetta fans to celebrate. Premiered in 1910, this three-act operetta is closer to being an opera and draws into the musical texture an odd admixture of influences ranging from Wagner to Richard Strauss to pop-styled Hungarian Romani music. Although no one would give credit to Lehár the distinction of being an "experimental composer," he does nonetheless present an experimentally conceived blend of styles here, confirming his own otherwise bewildering comment that "I have always experimented, reached out to something new, often enough against the intentions of directors and publishers." That the middle act is set out in the form of a dream, and that Lehár matches the story to a musico-stylistic pastiche that progresses in the same manner as a dream, shows how far Lehár was willing to go with his experimental ideas.

The music is ravishing, challenging, and extraordinary in every way, and we can be thankful that CPO's recording of Zigeunerliebe is close to ideal. The male singers are the weakest element, but these men are coming from a different tradition of singing related to grand opera and are not comfortable with the less forceful and vibrant requirements of operetta. The women are much better, with Dagmar Schellenberger, in the secondary role of Ilona, being excellent in particular, but Johanna Stojkovic is well more than just adequate in the important lead part of Zarika. The NDR Radiophilharmonie under Frank Beermann is splendid in every bar of this music, and this is important as Lehár's orchestration is in this case particularly ambitious and colorful. True operetta fans will so love Zigeunerliebe that even the relatively minor shortcomings of this set will not matter a great deal. If you have an operetta fan in your family who "has everything," CPO's Zigeunerliebe should probably move to top of one's potential gift list.

-- AllMusic

Tchaikovsky: Mazeppa (Sung in Italian) [Recorded Live 1954]

This is a world premier recording of the French version of Donizetti's Le Duc d'Albe.

Britten: The Turn of the Screw

Although the whole performance is top-notch, the main reason for owning this Cenerentola is the warm, delightfully human, and stunningly sung Cinderella of Joyce DiDonato. There is no paucity of fine, recorded Cenerentolas (Bartoli, Larmore, Baltsa), but DiDonato, an under-recorded American mezzo, catches precisely the right tone of vulnerability and goodness in the character while never stinting on the coloratura fireworks we expect from the role. She's always in character--modest and kind; it's a beautiful, understated portrayal.


The rest of the cast is excellent as well. José Manuel Zapata's slim tenor may not have the ping of a Vargas or the brilliance of Florez, but he's got all the "little notes" needed for the Prince and is unafraid of heights. Paolo Bordogna's Dandini is well sung, but the voice has a fast vibrato that may not agree with everyone, and Bruno Pratico's Don Magnifico articulates every single note and refrains from mugging--a good combination. The sisters are nicely characterized by Patrizia Cigna and Martina Borst, and bass-baritone Luca Pisaroni delivers Alidoro's music, including the aria Rossini added for him in 1820, with a good tonal center and dignity.


Conductor Alberto Zedda includes a brief chorus penned by another composer at the start of Act 2, and he leads with suavity if just a bit less flair and energy than this opera seems to want. The orchestra and chorus are good enough. The first CD ends at an awkward spot, but had the offending few minutes been added to the second CD it would have reached a dangerously long 80 minutes and three seconds. (It would have been easier if the extra chorus had been cut!) Bicker, bicker--this is an excellent performance, at a great bargain price.
--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

Rossini's brilliant satirical opera, Il Turco in Italia, is as notable for it's considerable use of ensemble set pieces as for it's many memorable tunes. The plot revolves around the tangled romance of the Turkish nobleman, Selim, on a visit to Naples to experience Italian life at first hand, and of his former mistress, Zaida, with whom he is finally reunited. Among the many highlights is the masterful duet of Geronio and Selim, in which the Turk tries to persuade the ageing husband to sell him his wife, the capricious Fiorilla.

Vivaldi' Griselda, one of more than twenty operas, is based on a story retold in Boccaccio' Il decamerone about the testing of Griselda' patience and virtue by her royal husband through a series of cruel trials.

Torvaldo e Dorliska was Rossini's 16th opera, premiered in Rome in December, 1815, two months after Elisabetta... and two months before Barbiere. It has an odd tone--it's a so-called "rescue opera". The plot concerns the eponymous hero and heroine, who are married. The evil Duke loves Dorliska and attacks the couple on their wedding day and leaves Torvaldo for dead. Dorliska runs away but winds up (unknowingly) taking refuge at the Duke's castle and is imprisoned. When Torvaldo finds his way there he attempts to rescue her, but he also is taken prisoner. The Duke's embittered henchman, Giorgio (a comic role), helps the couple. The villagers rise up and the Duke is punished, while our heroes live happily.

The opera is not in the top 10 of Rossini's great output--it breaks no new ground--but it's quite enjoyable despite being neither serious nor comic. Torvaldo has a couple of fine arias, as does Dorliska, the first-act finale is excellent, and even the basses and baritones have some good, if not altogether memorable, music.

This performance is very good indeed. Taped live in Bad Wildbad in July, 2003, stage noises do not interfere and there are precious few problems with ensembles, missed notes, etc., perhaps because there were patch-up sessions. Paolo Cigna and Huw Rhys-Evans are our heroine and hero and they're both up to the task. The former has plenty of high-flying and florid music and she sings it all accurately and with the right emphasis, while Rhys-Evans' very light, sweet voice copes well enough without the word "virtuoso" (or "Blake" or "Florez") coming to mind.

Michele Bianchini as the Duke exhibits a good-sized voice that may lack heft in the middle but that otherwise is a pleasure to hear. Mauro Utzeri, as the villain-turned-good guy Giorgio, sings with great character and a light tone (he's billed as a baritone); his duet with the Duke is a high spot. The rest of the cast is just fine.

Alessandro de Marchi leads a tight performance, one in which neither recitatives nor slower passages drag, and he keeps up with the singers nicely. Even a superb conductor would be unable to make the music of our villain, the Duke, sound villainous (this is Rossini's shortcoming in this opera), but he gives the work a respectable amount of drama nonetheless and his orchestra and chorus are excellent. No libretto is supplied but the track-by-track synopsis is very helpful.

There is another live recording of this opera, from Radio Switzerland in 1992 and starring tenor Ernesto Palacio (on Arkadia), but I haven't seen it in years--and at any rate, this Naxos set is better. Calling all Rossinians--who will also enjoy spotting bits and pieces of some of the composer's other operas sprinkled throughout.

--Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com