In the beginning of the 1950s, Hans Werner Henze wrote two radio operas for the former North West German Radio. The genre was developed around the 1930s and means a form of opera without any visual elements and hence without a stage. Under such circumstances the plot has to reach the listeners' ears by other means - by making the text exceptionally easy to follow, and by means of acoustic special effects like echo or sound collages. With this CD, WERGO publishes the premi�re of the revised versions on Sept. 27, 1996, in the Philharmonie in Cologne: Franz Kafka's oppressive surrealism in "Ein Landarzt" (A Country Doctor) and Wolfgang Hildesheimer's scathing satire in "Das Ende einer Welt" (The End of a World). In "Das Ende einer Welt", Henze himself took the role of the narrator, which underlines how topical the subject matter of this work remains for him. On the occasion of the premi�re of the revised versions of these two operas the composer wrote of the "inner connection" between the works: "There is, first, the state of a man who has taken leave of his senses, of being exposed, of the most terrible isolation, as if 'ordered' by invisible powers acting on a 'higher level.' There is talk of deception, of self-deception, of deceiving and being deceived, of the volatility and unreliability of life matters, beginning with the most simple (or most banal) and ending with the metaphysical and the grotesque." It is also conceivable that the increasing disquiet that took hold of Henze in the early fifties with regard to an evolving society that nonetheless remained the same at it's core ("Everywhere the old was not yet old enough, while the new pointed to a future that did not look very promising, " wrote the composer in his essay "Nach dem Krieg" [After the war]) took musical form in his two radio operas: on the one hand, a nightmare vision of horror; on the other, a cynical farce.

"Very grand... Price is a highly dramatic Carmen, Mirella Freni contributes a most sensitively sung Micaëla, and Corelli sounds glorious..." -- BBC Music Magazine [reviewing the complete version, RCA 39495

"Karajan's RCA version, made in Vienna in 1964, owes much to Leontyne Price's seductive, smoky-toned Carmen... Robert Merrill sings with gloriously firm tone, while Mirella Freni is enchanting as Micaëla." -- The Penguin Guide to Compact Discs & DVDs [2003/4 edition, reviewing RCA 39495]

Remastered 1997.

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Puccini: Tosca

Among the opera performances that deserve to be labeled “historic” is the opening night of the new production of Beethoven’s Fidelio unveiled at the Vienna State Opera on 5 November 1955. The accolade is deserved not least because this was the first time that the curtain had gone up in the rebuilt house since wartime bombing raids had reduced it to rubble at the end of the Second World War.

Of course, this says nothing about the musical quality of the occasion, but the present live recording, released to coincide with the start of the new regime under Dominique Meyer and Franz Welser-Möst, allows today’s listeners to judge this quality for themselves. Then, as now, the chorus and orchestra of the Vienna State Opera enjoy the highest reputation and have no equal anywhere else in the world, and under their then director, Karl Böhm, they amply demonstrated their credentials on this gala first night in 1955.

For Böhm, this was the start of a conducting marathon, for the house reopened with no fewer than seven new productions within a matter of only a few days. His Fidelio is notable for its taut and even breathtakingly impulsive tempos, clearly intensifying the impression of a suicide mission on the part of the “angelic Leonore” that Martha Mödl characterized so magnificently throughout this period. Unfortunately listeners can form only a limited impression of her acting, which was every bit as intense as her singing. This was the first time that she had rescued Anton Dermota as her husband, Florestan, his refined singing giving the lie to the widespread belief that the part requires a youthful heldentenor to do it justice. The rest of the cast is likewise made up of legendary names: with her distinctive lyric soprano voice, Irmgard Seefried is almost under-parted as Marzelline, while her father, Rocco, is played by the great bass Ludwig Weber, who only a few days later took on the heroic baritone role of Barak in Die Frau ohne Schatten. The villainous Don Pizarro is sung by Paul Schöffler, who that same week shone as Hans Sachs alongside Seefried’s Eva in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg. All these singers represent the sort of ensemble spirit that characterizes every great artist and ensures that performances like this one at the Vienna State Opera are always great occasions. - Orfeo

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As virtually the only serious opera of Donizetti to survive the advent of Verdi and the later Verismo school of Puccini et al, 'Lucia di Lammermoor' was also the most adapted to fit the prevailing notions of style. The late Maria Callas led the rediscovery of Donizetti's skill as a dramatic composer, and her performances of the opera under Serafin and Karajan are very special.
Since Callas, there have been attempts to restore the opera to something like its original form. Charles Mackerras follows Donizetti's original autograph score and offers a reading of the opera in keeping with what is known of performance practice in Donizetti's time. The most apparent results are high notes being taken in head voice rather than chest, most obvious in the male principals; the lower option at the end of arias; and a drastically shortened cadenza at the end of the mad scene.
Andrea Rost gives a strong performance of the title role as does Bruce Ford as Edgardo. The lower voices, Anthony Michaels-Moore and Alastair Miles, are particularly fine. An interesting and successful example of scholarship applied to the basic repertoire.

MOZART: OPERA ARIAS CAROL VAN

One of the century's legendary achievements on record confirms its reputation on this wellmanaged reissue. Here Toscanini's blazing intensity, his full comprehension of every facet of the score are evident throughout. In the very first scene the crackling of the fire in "Fuoco di gioia", the bubbling strings as illustration of Cassio getting drunk, the complete fidelity to the score of Valdengo's Iago tell of long preparation and immediately excite the ear. They are but harbingers of the legendary maestro's total command and of his wholehearted empathy with the opera's faultless structure and deep-felt emotions, all achieved within correct tempos and with an overview of the acts, each of which courses tautly to its inevitable conclusion. Just one little detail—the stab of pain in the orchestra at Otello's first thought of jealousy, before "Perche fai tale inchiesti"—shows just how intimately Toscanini knows his music; that and so much else left uncovered by other conductors sets him far above all, except his disciple Panizza on the equally satisfying Metropolitan performance on Music and Arts, 9/91.

The attack and dedication of chorus and orchestra are apparent throughout; so is the discipline and textual clarity on all sides. Nothing escapes Toscanini, yet at the same time nothing obtrudes in a manner that calls attention to itself—unless it be the conductor's groans and encouragement now more audible in the digital transfer. The sound remains dry but somehow this very close, confined quality accords with the work's own claustrophobic quality—if only Otello had gone out into the open air and thought about the reality of the evidence before him, he might not have been so easily caught up in Iago's web of deceit.

Valdengo's Iago continues to put all but Gobbi's (for Serafin on RCA-11/88; and Tibbett's, for Panizza) in the shade. His light, almost elegant and seemingly cheerful tone, his mordant, sinister delivery of the Credo, his insinuating and perfectly accurate delivery of the imagined Dream (Nucci ought to listen to its subtlety—Decca, 11/91) all tell of his willingness to follow Toscaninfs guidance, for he never sang so well for anyone else. This is a faultless performance. So, in terms of interpretation, is Vinay's Otello—the tormented, fearsomely commanding Moor to the life. It's only when you compare his too baritonal tone with Martinelli's (Music and Arts) or Pavarotti's incisive, Italianate delivery (Decca) or Domingo's absolute security (RCA, 3/87) that Vinay's thicker tone and the throb in it seem a shade below an ideal; but no one conveys better the sense of Otello's world falling about him. Nelli always turns out to be more satisfying than one expects, because her sincerity of purpose, her accuracy and her true tone compensate for a slightly pallid reading of Desdemona's thoughts and feelings. Certainly she makes more of the text than Dame Kin i Te Kanawa (Decca) and often sings with a finer line, while missing Rethberg's warmth on the Music and Arts version—and indeed the sense of suffering heard from Scotto (RCA/Levine). The smaller roles are all worthily taken.

Any incidental drawback should not prevent anyone hearing this overwhelming interpretation. Once the vivid storm is launched it is impossible to leave the performance until the tragic, stricken figure of Otello falls lifeless by his wronged wife's side: Toscanini identifies so sympathetically with the human condition, as did Verdi himself—and it is from Verdi, at whose feet he sat, that Toscanini learnt his trade.

-- Gramophone [3/1992]

Tchaikovsky Bavarian State Opera; Shuraitis The Queen of Spades

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On the 1956 set from Bayreuth [the role of Kothner] is taken by no lesser artist than Fischer-Dieskau, who presents to the life the precise, fussy keeper of the seal, none better on any recording of the work. But there is hardly a poor performance from any singer. Windgassen, who rarely undertook Walther, sings the part with untiring freshness and life, phrasing with a long line and an innate musicality that make Walther's music for once a pleasure to hear from start to finish. Brouwenstijn is his lull-throated if not very individual Eva. Stolze's David is predictably vivid, Schmitt-Walther's pedantic, unexaggerated Beckmesser a nice change from the then-customary caricature. Greindl's Pogner is not ideally steady but imbued with eloquent diction and feeling.

The clinching performance is Hotter's Sachs, profoundly satisfying in its depth of feeling, its understanding of every facet of Sachs's complex character, and he gives his two monologues a musing. interior quality that goes to the heart of the matter. Vocally, he starts a shade tired - not surprising when he was also that festivals Wotan - but, crucially, by the start of Act 2 he strikes his best form. This set would be worth hearing for him alone.

Cluytens's conducting is not on the Knappertsbusch level, rather matter-of-fact in the first two acts, much more inspired in Act 3—but in any case nothing can dim the quality here of the handpicked Bayreuth forces. Unfortunately this recording, unlike the other two, has moments of poor sound, but it is never unsatisfactory enough to mar the performance's many assets.

-- Gramophone [10/1998]

Handel, G.F.: Giove in Argo [Opera]

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RECITAL

“ ... [Davis] on fine form here with the Bergen Philharmonic. The opening to the Corsaire holds no terrors for them ... The lesser-known overtures reveal their virtues well. Davis, abetted by an excellent recording, responds vividly to Berlioz’s pioneering orchestral textures...” - John Warrack – International Record Review – February 2013

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The Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra under Sir Andrew Davis here perform seven dazzling orchestral overtures by Hector Berlioz, a composer who excelled in blending literary and musical elements into highly energetic and personal creations.

The overtures are widely varied in mood, as are the operas from which they were drawn. Berlioz wrote his first large-scale instrumental composition, the Overture to Les Francs-juges, in 1826, the year in which he enrolled at the Paris Conservatoire. Even though the opera itself was never performed, Berlioz remained proudly affectionate of the overture, which was played all over Germany and Holland in its early days. His second opera, Benvenuto Cellini, followed in 1838; its music gave rise both to the opera’s overture and to the concert overture Le Carnaval romain which depicts its subject in brilliant colour through breathtakingly vibrant orchestration.

The comic opera Béatrice et Bénédict took its inspiration from Shakespeare’s Much Ado about Nothing. The overture draws on an intense solo scene for Béatrice and adds elements of the cheerful banter that make up the story of the title characters’ playful courtship.

When Berlioz visited the Hungarian capital Pest in 1846, it was suggested to him that one way of winning the hearts of the audiences there would be to make an arrangement of the beloved Rákóczy March, which up until that point had been known only as a piano piece. Berlioz agreed, and on the very night before he left for Pest, he put together his own orchestral version of the piece. It was a resounding success when performed at his first concert, to the extent that Berlioz promptly included it in the large work on which he was working at the time: La Damnation de Faust.

Le Roi Lear, Le Corsaire, and Waverley have one thing in common: all are independent concert pieces that have been given the title overture as in many respects they do resemble opera overtures – but none is in actual fact connected to an opera. The composer here took his inspiration from literary works. Le Roi Lear, for instance, is a remarkable tone portrait of Shakespeare’s deranged king, full of energy and anger, while Le Corsaire may be loosely based on Byron’s The Corsair. Berlioz based Waverley on a novel of the same name by Sir Walter Scott, and the score bears a quotation in English: ‘Dreams of love and Lady’s charms, give place to honour and to arms.’ The contrast expressed so well in this simple quotation is equally evident in the music itself. Here the ‘dreams of love’ unfold in a long cello melody, which is repeated with richer orchestrations, before leading into the vigorous musical depiction of ‘honour and arms’. - Chandos

Once again Bernius lives up to his name as the rediscoverer of unknown masterpieces from the Romantic era. Just in time for the Franz Ignaz Danzi's 250th anniversary, he has snatched Danzi's Der Berggeist from an undeserved oblivion. This opera, based on the folkloric tale of Rubezahl, is an especially notable contribution to early Romantic opera in Germany.

Puccini: La Bohème (Highlights)

Whatever your views on the music or the performance, that this recording exists at all is an extraordinary story, and due congratulations must be offered to the hard work and dedication of all involved, in particular of Jennifer Condon. Her “normal” job is as a prompter at the Hamburg Opera, but she has been responsible for editing this previously unpublished work, preparing it for performance, persuading a large and distinguished cast to take part, in some cases without any remuneration, as well as conducting the performance. This shows a commitment to the work that may seem eccentric to the cynical but heroic to others who have laboured in vain on behalf of other similarly neglected works.
 
Peggy Glanville-Hicks was an Australian composer whose teachers included Vaughan Williams, Egon Wellesz and Nadia Boulanger, who was married for a time to Stanley Bate, another neglected composer, and who spent twenty years in New York before moving to Greece and finally back to Australia. Her other works include the opera The Transposed Heads, commissioned by the Louisville Orchestra and recorded by them in the 1950s and in 1984 by the West Australian Symphony Orchestra. I have listened many times to both recordings with increasing pleasure so that I have been very eager to hear the present discs.
 
Sappho is a setting of an adaptation by the composer of a verse play by Lawrence Durrell. It tells of the Lesbian (but not lesbian) poet Sappho in her latter years when she was married to a wealthy local merchant, Kreon. The various scenes show her with the twin brothers, Pittakos and Phaon, with her tutor, Minos, and with Diomedes, a drunken poet. Towards the end she is exiled to Corinth on a false charge of incest. Her final monologue, the only part of the opera to have been publicly performed, is the clear climax of the opera, with Sappho accepting the impermanence of personal relationships as well as of her own life. It mirrors similar scenes at the end of operas by Strauss and Janácek, albeit that it is very different in its musical style. That style derives to a great degree from the composer’s attempt to reduce the importance of harmony in music, and to throw the emphasis instead on texture and tone, melody and heterophony. The result may seem a little bland at first but the listener soon adjusts to the composer’s very individual style.
 
A quick glance at the cast list shows several distinguished Wagnerian singers. Very surprisingly that appears to have been a necessity due to the weight of some of the orchestration. The conductor’s note indicates that she believes that with adjustment to dynamics and some of the orchestration it could be performed on a smaller scale, and I have to say that this would be welcome. In fact the ideal might be to retain the Wagner-sized voices but allow them to sing at somewhat less than full power. That would permit a more nuanced approach to performance and a more natural delivery of the, admittedly somewhat flowery, text. I am full of admiration for the cast here, who have taken on a major new work with obvious enthusiasm, but it has to be admitted that for much of the time there is a lack of any attempt at light or shade in their singing. The many singers for whom English is not their first language cope well but it cannot be said that the result sounds idiomatic. Admittedly the results in the case of the English-speaking artists are not all that much better, and although I attempted to follow what was being sung without it after a while I found myself wholly dependent on the printed libretto to understand what was being said or even who was saying it.
 
Sappho is by no means as immediately attractive as is The Transposed Heads, partly due to an apparent preponderance of slow or slowish music, but enough is revealed through this very welcome issue to suggest that subject to the preparation of a performance edition that would make it kinder to singers and to a greater familiarity with the work it would certainly merit stage performance. In the meantime we should once again thank Jennifer Condon for her untiring efforts to make it possible to hear the work and all the singers and players who helped her in this. Congratulations also to Toccata Classics whose presentation of the issue, with essays on the work, the edition, Durrell and Sappho, together with the full libretto, does all that could be done to help the listener and encourage understanding of this important discovery.
 
-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International

Be prepared to be mesmerized by many sections of this score. You can easily lose yourself in this complex of glittering broken chords, and what a wrench it is when the music finally comes to a halt.

Not even CD can quite simulate the vast timespan of Einstein on the beach, the seemingly endless wall of Glass that apparently faces listeners during live performances of this extraordinary four-hour theatre piece. Disc changes, fades at the ends of tracks and compressions of material apart, however, this recording does at least offer a glimpse of the work to those of us who have yet to experience (or may never have the chance to witness) Philip Glass's first opera fully staged. Needless to say, four CDs give a far better sense of the work's sheer scale and continuity than do the eight (sometimes rather short) sides of the original LP issue.

Majestic and bewitching as so much of it is, there are certain drawbacks to hearing the music purely on its own. As Max Harrison explained in his review of the LP, the score is not narrative in conventional operatic terms. Blocks of relatively unvarying music that range from 4 to 24 minutes in duration do no more than suggest a prevailing mood, sometimes with the aid of a spoken text that may (or may not) be obliquely related to the stage action. Home listeners of course lack the visual element that explains what it's all about. Even the generous spread of illustrations provided with the LPs (not reproduced in the CD booklet) give only the vaguest impression of Robert Wilson's stage spectacle and, like MH, I wonder whether this divorce of music from image sometimes seriously reduces the impact oIGlass's carefully calculated effects. Judged purely as music, for example, the sheer tedium of "Trial" (Act I scene 2) becomes almost unbearable; in the theatre, does its relationship with the stage action result in something more engaging?

Don't expect, then, to be able to make complete sense of everything in this piece. But do be prepared to be charmed, even mesmerized by many sections of the score. The scintillating, energetic swirl of "Dance 1" (Act 2 scene I) is certainly no endurance test. Quite the opposite: you can easily lose yourself in this complex of glittering broken chords, and what a wrench it is when the music finally comes to a halt. "Building/Train" (Act 2 scene I) is, unambiguously, deeply disturbing music, whatever visual imagery it was designed to reinforce. Passages such as these stand so successfully on their own that one might almost forget their context and cherish them instead as autonomous works. Perhaps CBS should consider issuing a single CD of highlights.

-- Gramophone [9/1986]

ROSSINI: TANCREDI WEIKERT, HO

THE ROYAL EDITION - OPERA OVER

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