Classical Music

A thoughtful performance of Mussorgsky's masterpiece, with Ghiaurov conveying a dignified and reflective portrait of Tsar Boris.

Mussorgsky's original Boris Godunov, without benefit of Rimsky-Korsakov, has become more or less accepted now, for recordings as well as on the stage; though that begs the question of what is the original. David Lloyd-Jones, in his authoritative edition, uses the word "initial" for the 1869 version which was turned down by the St Petersburg Imperial Theatres, and "definitive" for the work's enlargement by the Polish act and Revolutionary scene (with the St Basil's scene dropped) for the 1874 production. As is now common, this new recording includes both the Revolutionary and the St Basil's scenes. The scoring is the original, of course, though the singers generally take (insignificant) variants which suggest they are using the 1874 Bessel vocal score.

The performance is a thoughtful one, sometimes with rather too much thought with Tchakarov, and not enough raw energy. Fortunately the best is at the centre, with Ghiaurov's reflective, melancholy Tsar Boris. His first words, "Skorbit dusha" ("My soul is sad"), suggest the burdened sinner, much as Boris Christoff does but with a deeper tinge of sorrow; and this note runs through his performance. He is very tender with his son Fyodor (sympathetically sung by Rossitza Troeva-Mircheva), and plays the histrionics of the hallucination scene down. The death scene, too, is sung simply and well, with few extra effects (a sob early on before the word "umyrayu"—"I am dying"—and a final groan). The music does not need them: there is no greater demonstration of what all that 'realism' meant to the Russians than the melodic line as it steadily loses its human warmth and disintegrates into oblivion. It is not a performance that attempts the rugged majesty of Boris Christoff, and if it loses something in dramatic impetus by that much, it conveys musically and with much dignity a portrait of Mussorgsky's bowed Tsar. Ghiaurov is in places a little free with the rhythm, which does not matter much, and changes the odd word (not surprisingly substituting "k nam" for "vsye" on the high F where Mussorgsky inconsiderately placed it).

Christoff, on his EMI recording under Clutyens, sang both Pimen and Boris; but though it was an impressive tour de force, the idea is not really advisable. Here, there is a good contrast with the graver voice of Nicola Ghiuselev, who is a sombre but by no means ascetic Pimen, remembering his youthful indiscretions with penitence but, for once, as if they could actually have happened. He delivers the final address to the Boyars superbly.

The remainder of the cast give varying performances. Stefka Mineva is an unseductive Marina, her powerful tone and pronounced wobble standing up better to the tense exchanges with Boris Martinovich's alarming Rangoni than to the love duet with Grigory, or the False Dmitry; he is sung, with a skilful sense of a man possessed, by Mikhail Svetlev, giving a well-sustained performance. There is a plausible villain of Shuisky from Josef Frank. But the more extrovert scenes suffer from a lack of exuberance. The crowd at the start is hustled along by a policeman of implausible gentleness; Stefka Popangelova's Nurse does not sound as if she is enjoying her romps with the children very much; Penka Dilova's Hostess is rather tame with her song about the grey drake; and as Varlaam, Dimiter Petkov has clearly been sustaining himself with nothing stronger than lemonade as he clambers up to sing his boastful song about service under Ivan the Terrible. The Holy Simpleton, as "yurodivy" is here translated, sounds too knowledgeable in Mincho Popov's performance. The chorus are rather well-behaved for a Russian crowd under pressure; they are also too often behind the beat, and tend to swallow their final syllables (which affects the phrasing). The recording, good with the orchestra, is less than kind to the chorus. With the discs comes a well-produced booklet containing rather short background essays, and a transliteration of the text plus English, French and German translation.

-- Gramophone [4/1992]

Led by a loyal and accomplished Rossinian in Ricciarelli and an exceptionally sure Ramey, this Gazza Ladra is the one to which listeners will inevitably turn for the foreseeable future.

According to an irate correspondent (February, page 1432) my "hatred of live recordings with all their inevitable characteristics" had "poisoned" my review of Philips's La Scala recording of the Italian version of Rossini's Guglielmo Tell. Given such an assumption, what chance has this new recording of La gazza ladra—"The thieving magpie"—recorded live during performances at last year's Rossini Festival in Pesaro? In the event, every chance. In the first place, the opera is being sung in the right language. Secondly, it would seem that the Teatro Rossini in Pesaro—rebuilt in 1816-18 and reopened, as it happens, with a production of La gazza ladra supervised by Rossini himself—is an excellent place in which to record. Like Glyndebourne, it is perhaps rather dry acoustically, but is a beautifully scaled theatre with a stage that is easier to cover than La Scala's. The theatre is, in fact, a kind of miniature La Scala, as handsome to look at as its big brother in Milan (where La gazza ladra had its prima in 1817) but with the intimacy of Glyndebourne or, say, the glorious Theatre Royal in Bristol. It would also seem that Michael Hampe's production was a relatively straightforward affair. There is a certain amount of coming and going in the secco recitatives (not by Rossini and musically unremarkable) but in the big scenes the principals are logically placed and unfussily directed, making for a recording that is cleanly miked, pleasantly immediate, and well arranged right across the stereophonic spectrum.

If there is an element of disappointment about this live theatre performance, it is some occasional lack of theatre atmosphere. The audience, whose responses are briefly registered and then faded out at the end of all the key movements, were clearly much taken with Samuel Ramey's remarkably fierce and Machiavellian portrait of the lecherous Mayor. But there is a slightly antiseptic feel about a good deal of the First Act and the start of the Second, where the prison scenes should really stir the emotions. They certainly did that at Wexford in 1959 with Marietta Adani as Ninetta and the young Janet Baker as the affectionate young peasant boy, Pippo; though in those days all the publisher Ricordi could come up with was La gazza ladra in the heavily re-ordered and reorchestrated version completed by Zandonai in 1942. In the present recording of the famous prison duet "E ben per mia memoria", Katia Ricciarelli and Bernadette Manca di Nissa are using no tear-jerking, sub-Puccinian revision, but the Urtext in Alberto Zedda's exemplary realization. So we must expect it to be a degree or so cooler.

That said, Act 2, which by Rossini's usual standards is unusually long and powerful, grows magnificently in this performance, culminating in the great Trial scene, Ninetta's march to the scaffold, and her deeply touching Andantino, "Deh tu reggi in tal momenta". Ricciarelli, the Ninetta, is a loyal and accomplished Rossinian and a regular visitor to Pesaro. Her vocal portrait of this wronged country girl may strike some as being too sophisticated. I recall an old 78rpm recording of Ninetta's cavatina sung by Lina Pagliughi that seemed to strike exactly the right note of unaffected artlessness. No need to count the spoons after this girl had left for town. Ricciarelli, by contrast, rather cossets the music and occasionally elaborates it, attempting in the process perhaps to suggest a degree of vocal ease that she does not now quite possess. As an old man, Rossini wrote variants and cadenzas for this cavatina for the soprano Giuseppina Vitali (see Appendix I/C of Ricordi's Italian-English vocal score of the Zedda edition; Milan, 1989: £24.95) but Ricciarelli appears to be using her own ornaments.

The rest of the ensemble is a good one, as is usually the case in Pesaro, surely led by an exceptionally confident Samuel Ramey playing the Mayor not as some meddling buffoon but as an extremely unpleasant rural Scarpia. William Matteuzzi, Ninetta's lover fresh from the wars, is splendidly ardent, Manca di Nissa is a rich-toned Pippo, sensitively played, and Ferruccio Furlanetto makes a strong impression as Ninetta's father, the soldier on the run from a corrupt regime and yet one more of those Rossinian father-figures trying to live out his life in politically troubled times. Still, Furlanetto doesn't get the extra aria, a newly adapted entrance aria, which Rossini provided for the singer Remorini for the 1818 Pesaro revival. Lucia, by contrast, keeps her Act 2 aria, though it was rarely performed after the Milanese prima. In this Pesaro production it has been moved forward so that it comes before the great Trial scene. This tucks it neatly away, allowing Lucia's doubts about Ninetta's guilt to register as a kind of aria del sorbetto before the onset of the chorus, quintet, and second finale.

The text, then, is close to that of the Milanese prima and is more or less complete, some understandably small and frequent cuts in the recitatives notwithstanding. The orchestral playing under Gianluigi Gelmetti is spruce and the accompaniments are generally prompt and businesslike, though Ricciarelli is occasionally indulged.

This is not the first commercial recording of La gazza ladra. Zedda's own account of the opera appeared on Fonit Cetra's Italia label some years ago (nla). But this Sony Classical version is the one to which Rossinians will inevitably turn for the foreseeable future.

-- Gramophone [10/1990]

Frid's best known work is his chamber opera the Diary of Anne Frank for solo soprano and an instrumental group of nine. In stark, sinister and elegiac colors he expresses the fear, hope, anger and resignation which make Anne Frank's diary a universal message of humanity. Anne's story is brought to life by soprano Eva Ben Zvi, who won rave reviews for her interpretation of this demanding role. The performance is underpinned by the Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra and conductor Andrey Chistiakov.

Recorded on March 24, 1962, this recording of Donizetti’s Maria di Rohan stars Virginia Zeani as Maria. This work is recorded by the Orcestra e Coro del Teatro di San Carlo, conducted by Fernando Previtali. This release is a 2-disc set.

Recorded in: London Coliseum live; 6, 13 & 27 August 1977 Producer(s) John Mordler Sound Engineer(s) Robert Gooch Stuart Eltham

Classical Music

Classical Music

Bayreuth 1952 - Issued from the original source.

This Chandos production must now be first choice for this work.

Welcome to John Gay’s and Benjamin Britten’s romp through some seamy but also colourful and vibrant elements of 18 ^th century London. This work established the ballad opera in which spoken dialogue alternated with musical items. Gay’s satirical words were set to well-known traditional and popular tunes. Two hundred and twenty years later Britten added 20 ^th century accompaniments.

What’s entirely Britten here is the fresh caterwauling Overture (tr. 2) in which the various characters are given brief sound-portraits. There’s an oboe of sinuous sweetness for Polly (0:40), a cavorting clarinet for Macheath (1:29), suave strings and a jocular bassoon for the highwaymen (2:35) and a bantering circus-like master of ceremonies style for Mr Peachum (3:25). It’s all terrifically realized by the City of London Sinfonia who play marvellously throughout.

But what of the songs? Filch’s ‘’Tis woman that seduces all Mankind’ (tr. 5) is a good example of Britten allowing an original tune free rein while giving it modern dress with balmy woodwind and harp. The heroine Polly comes in (tr.12) to strains of her first song over which there are snatches of dialogue. This, like the melodrama which shortly follows (tr. 20), is Britten’s neat way of subverting the claim in the opening dialogue that this opera will have no “unnatural” recitative. Polly’s first song, ‘Virgins are like the fair flower in its lustre’ has as its tune Purcell’s ‘What shall I do to show how much I love him?’ from Dioclesian. Like its original, it is shown by Leah-Marian Jones to be at once wistful and coy. Her duet with Susan Bickley’s Mrs Peachum, ’O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed’ (tr. 15) catches well a cosy lullaby make-believe, aided by the gently rocking strings’ accompaniment. It’s lovely but only fleeting. Another notable accompaniment is the flutter-tonguing flute illustrating Polly’s ‘The Turtle thus with plaintive crying’ (tr. 19).

The highwayman hero Macheath enters and Tom Randle proves courteous enough to Jones’ simpering. The duet between Macheath and Polly, ’Were I laid on Greenland’s coast’ (tr. 22) is sweetly done but I felt the singers were over-conscious of the need to match the flowing orchestration and then the addition of chorus and drum. Some of the natural freshness is lost that’s present in the 1963 Aldeburgh Festival staging on DVD (Decca 074 3329). In this Chandos CD ‘The Miser thus a shilling sees’ (tr. 24) responds better to the typical careful attention of conductor Christian Curnyn’s approach. The disciplined emphasis of rhythm in its thorny progression matches the text’s poetic expression of loss. A pity, however, the second appearance of “Till home and friends are lost at last” (1:54) isn’t, as marked in the score ‘(in the distance)’ as the lovers go their separate ways. It’s an effect achieved in the BBC broadcast recording of the original 1948 production conducted by Britten (Pearl GEM 0225).

The highwaymen’s ’Fill ev’ry glass’ (tr. 26) is a drinking song of the sturdy, resolute variety in 2009 where a lustier abandon was shown in 1948. ‘Let us take the road’ (tr. 28) is infused with eagerness because of the excitement Britten and Curnyn convey in sketching the approach of the coach. Tom Randle’s Macheath has a too cultivated spoken voice but his singing is virile enough. You can hear this in ‘If the heart of a man is depressed with cares’ (tr. 29), marked as a caressing Andante backed by sweetly musing violin solo and rocking clarinet. Again I felt the line was held back a little in deference to the detail of the accompaniment. At this point Macheath is visited by a parade of prostitutes and what’s entertaining in the Decca DVD is rather curious here. With no sounds incorporated of women moving around, squealing and the like , you might think Macheath is imagining it all. I guess this is so as not to detract from Britten’s own variety parade of instruments, a kind of ‘Young Person’s Guide to Women’. There’s a superb tambourine to enliven the headiness of ‘Youth’s the season made for joys’. Randle sings with sunny freedom the ad libitum ‘Ah’s above the chorus repeat, though the top C final phrase is left to a soprano. Now betrayed by the women, his ‘At the Tree I shall suffer with pleasure’ has a disciplined testiness but less venom than Decca’s Kenneth McKellar.

Again more telling in this Chandos production is the more meditative material. The opening song of Act 2, ‘Man may escape from rope and gun’ (CD2, tr. 2), where Randle shows how transfixed Macheath is in his repetition of ‘woman’, savours past joys even while aware they’re the cause of present pain. Sarah Fox, as Lucy Lockit, is scarily efficient in her spite in ‘Thus when a good Housewife sees a rat’ (tr. 3). Polly’s response is the more sensitively elegiac ‘Thus when the Swallow seeking prey’ (tr. 10) and here Leah-Marian Jones is rich, smooth and eloquent. For me, however, Macheath’s ‘How happy could I be with either’ (tr. 11) is taken so fast it becomes too much a tongue-twister virtuoso piece losing some of its whimsy. In 1948 Peter Pears’ lighter touch was more effective. Polly has the easier task of rising above all this with ‘Cease your funning’ (tr.12), whose merging into the chorus and distancing of perspective are successfully achieved before we’re brought back to earth with a vengeance by Lucy’s crisp, snappy ‘Why how now, Madam Flirt!’ (tr. 13). The finale begins with Lucy and Polly showing great resolve. ‘No power on earth can e’er divide’ (tr. 14) is well progressed by Curnyn to an exciting ‘Horay’ trio response from Macheath, Lockit and Peachum. The there’s then increasing speed with a backing chorus in Sullivanesque abandon.

The opening song of Act 3, Lucy’s ‘When young at the bar’ (tr. 16) should be familiar as the tune is Purcell’s ‘If love’s a sweet passion’ from The Fairy Queen. Fox invests it with its original sad yearning while Curnyn points the claustrophobic cloying nature of Britten’s rich scoring of the wry accompaniment. Of a different order and part of the score’s kaleidoscopic variety is the relished archness of Frances McCafferty as Mrs Trapes delivering ‘In the days of my youth I could bill like a dove’ (tr. 21) with relished archness. To this is added the raucous carousing of Lockit and Peachum. Shortly there’s also the poignancy of Lucy and Polly’s ‘A curse attends a woman’s love’ (tr. 25). The paradox that these two candidates for Macheath’s affection can at one moment be united in their shared sense of rejection and understanding of the impossibility of their situation and at the next daggers drawn as rivals and eager still to court Macheath with warm affection at ‘Hither, dear husband, turn your eyes’ (tr. 28) is exploited dramatically. Fox’s pleading for Macheath’s life with ‘When he holds up his hand’ (tr. 31) ought to be the more persuasive, aided by Britten’s obbligato oboe accompaniment. ‘The Charge is prepared’ is a stock, formal chorus considerably pepped up by Mrs Peachum’s triumphant ‘Ah’s and glissando shrieks over its orchestral postlude.

Britten creates a closing scena (tr. 34) with Macheath in the condemned cell at first extolling the virtues of drink when about to die, then recalling pretty women. This gives way to the questioning protest ‘must I die?’. This is well sung by Randle but doesn’t quite have Pears’ grasp of the torment of ever-fluctuating contrasts of mood. Polly and Lucy offer a moving show of support, ‘Would I might be hanged’ to the heavily insistent backdrop of the funeral knell. In 1948 Britten’s knell is less weighty but more searing. Macheath realistically confesses ‘my courage is out’. The spoken dialogue wipes this all away. The highwaymen begin an address directly to the audience to demand the playwright provides a reprieve and all the players join in so the work can end with a dance. This bit of trickery and the rejection of the moral that vice must be punished works better in sound alone than the quicker and tamer removal of justice in the DVD. So you finish the Chandos sound recording remembering the company’s lusty tra-las and Fox’s top C.

This Chandos is the fullest version of the three currently available in the UK, playing at 117:52 in comparison with Decca’s 93:50 and Pearl’s 79:03. The differences are largely down to the Chandos including more of Gay’s spoken dialogue with alterations and additions by Tyrone Guthrie though even here I’d guess about a quarter of the dialogue published in the full and vocal scores has been cut. I don’t think this is a disadvantage because there’s a good deal of repetition in the text anyway. However, some musical numbers are also cut in the other recordings: Mrs Peachum’s ‘If Love the Virgin’s Heart invade’ (CD1 tr. 9) can only be heard here. To see the piece staged is a benefit. On the DVD the dialogue generally has a touch more pace and life, being less self-conscious in delivery. In the same vein the switch from dialogue to music flows more seamlessly and the folksong origins of many of the tunes are delivered with a more disarmingly innocent directness. The feeling between the characters is clearer in the ensemble numbers. The 1948 recording is striking for the verve of Britten’s direction, the charm of Pears’ light heroic manner and the lovely unforced upper register of Nancy Evans as Polly. Listen to her in ‘The Miser thus a shilling sees’. On the other hand it also at times adopts an over-romantic style, as in ‘O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed’ or is too patrician as in ‘Virgins are like the fair flower’.

To conclude, then, although sometimes more studied and deliberate than it might be, including careful points of emphasis within the dialogue, this Chandos production must now be first choice for this work. It also offers you in most luxuriant detail the colour and density of Britten’s orchestration.

-- Michael Greenhalgh, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

Samuel Barber's 'Vanessa' has long been in need of reconsideration. The Pulitzer Prize-winning opera is a remarkable study of sex, delusion and disillusionment. Enthusiastically received at its start-studded premiere (the director was Gian Carlo Menotti; the designer, Cecil Baeton; the conductor, Dmitri Mitropolous and the tenor part of Anatol was taken by the young Nicolai Gedda), it sparked controversy - some reckoned that the score, undeniably influenced by Puccini and Strauss, was too European to be a model for contemporary American opera. Leonard Slatkin is one of the greatest champions of the works of Samuel Barber. He conducted an all-star concert performance of 'Vanessa' at the Barbican last year - one of the few performances of the work ever to be staged in the UK, and the only one to assemble the calibre of cast worthy of this work. It received extraordinary reviews. It was from this concert that this recording is taken.

The 2002 production of Berg's Lulu by Richard jones is generally agreed to be one of the best things to come from troubled English National Opera in recent years. Chandos has done everyone a favour by transferring its 2005 revival lock, stock and smoking revolver from the opera house to the studio...This is important for several reasons. Lulu can seem forbidding to the uninitiated. Its amoral characters, its sordid plot, its enigmatic anti-heroine, its complex (and masterful) formal design: all these aspects repel some as much as they attract others. Yet cabaret burlesque is as integral to the opera's make-up as high operatic tragedy. Paul Daniel and the Chandos engineers don't let us forget it. Piano, saxophone and vibraphone get the prominence they deserve...Richard Stokes has rendered Wedekind's demotic text aptly and brilliantly...For Lulu in the raw, a Rosenkavalier with no underwear, I'll take this.
- Peter Quantrill, THE GRAMOPHONE

Chandos presents the English language recording premiere of 'Wozzeck', Berg's powerful and fatalistic tragedy, now regarded as one of the masterpieces of twentieth-century opera. Paul Daniel and the Philharmonia Orchestra receive consistently excellent reviews in this series, and are aided by a superb cast and theatrical Chandos sound. Recorded in: Watford Colosseum 14-18 July 2002 Producer(s) Brian Couzens Sound Engineer(s) Ralph Couzens Michael Common (Assistant)

Classical Music

This is the world premiere recording of the complete version of 'Quo Vadis', Dyson's sumptuous choral epic of 1938. Dyson fervently believed in the English choral movement's need for practical, tuneful and lively music. 'Quo Vadis', with its colourful orchestration and fine melodies, demonstrates the effectiveness of this aesthetic approach. The soloists on this disc represent some of the finest singers around today. Recorded in: Brangwyn Hall, Swansea 11-14 December 2002 Producer(s) Brian Couzens Sound Engineer(s) Ralph Couzens Matthew Walker (Assistant)

In a really committed performance like this Flavio stands out as one of Handel’s best operas.



HANDEL Flavio • Christian Curnyn, cond; Tim Mead ( Flavio ); Rosemary Joshua ( Emilia ); Renata Pokupi? ( Vitige ); Hilary Summers ( Teodata ); Iestyn Davies ( Guido ); Thomas Walker ( Ugone ); Andrew Foster-Williams ( Lotario ); Early Opera Company (period instruments) • CHACONNE 0773 (2 CDs: 146:23 Text and Translation)


Flavio , Handel’s fifth opera for the Royal Academy of Music, had its premiere in 1723. It was only moderately successful, achieving eight performances. One possible reason for this lack of success is the nature of the score itself. The music is written in a lighter vein than the heroic operas Handel had heretofore written for the Royal Academy of Music. Its style harkens back to his Venetian opera Agrippina . The music itself is of high quality, and the opera certainly does not deserve the neglect it has been subjected to over the centuries. Handel revived it only once, in 1732, for four performances, after which it remained unheard until 1967. This is only its second recording.


Christian Curnyn leads a very good performance that does full justice to this neglected work. He paces the work well and is respectful of Handel’s score. Although he occasionally tends to overuse the theorbo, substituting it for harpsichord at times, he is less guilty of this failing that René Jacobs in the competing recording. Da capo ornaments are generally tasteful and idiomatic. The orchestra plays with precision. Handel does not give the orchestra much of a chance to shine; most numbers are accompanied only by strings and continuo, with occasional use of flute or oboe.


The cast is also very good. Rosemary Joshua sings with accuracy and beautiful tone; she is dramatically involved in the role, as are the other members of the cast. Joshua’s performance is preferable to that of Lena Lootens on the Jacobs recording; although Lootens sings reasonably well, her voice has a hollow, white tone to it. Hilary Summers has a rather dark sound for a mezzo-soprano. She is quite good in her role, but she would have made an even better candidate for either of the two castrato roles; her tone is more masculine than either of the two countertenors on this recording. I prefer the more feminine sound of Bernarda Fink on the Jacobs recording. Honors are evenly divided between the Vitige of Renata Pokupi? here and Christina Högman for Jacobs.


Of the two countertenors, Iestyn Davies, singing Guido, the role written for the star castrato Senesino, is excellent, with an evenly produced voice of great suppleness. I prefer him to Jacobs’ Derek Lee Ragin, whose voice is not as well controlled or as attractive an instrument. In the secondary castrato role of Flavio, Tim Mead and Jeffrey Gall offer performances of equal value. The lesser roles for tenor and bass are capably handled by Thomas Walker and Andrew Foster-Williams.


David Johnson reviewed the René Jacobs recording in Fanfare 14:1. He found it to be a “splendid realization of this little-known Handel opera” but thought the work itself uneven. As usual, Jacobs fiddles with the score. At scene changes, he inserts a few bars of harpsichord improvisation or even orchestral sinfonia (but where the music comes from I’m not sure). His misuse of the lute is far more glaring than anything Curnyn does. But, like Curnyn, Jacobs’s da capo ornaments are mostly tasteful and idiomatic.


For any first-time purchaser of Flavio , I have no hesitation in recommending Curnyn as a first choice. Those who already own Jacobs’ recording need not rush to replace it. Both recordings give a very good account of an unjustly neglected work.


FANFARE: Ron Salemi


Flavio was one of the operas Handel wrote for the Royal Academy of Music’s company at the King’s Theatre on the Haymarket. It has a character all of its own, very different from that of “Giulio Cesare” which followed it in 1724. Although the plot similarly concerns power and sex, these subjects are treated in a wholly different manner. Some commentators have seen it as almost a comedy. Certainly there are moments that might bring a smile to the face of the audience. These include two successive revenge arias for outraged fathers at the start of the second Act. Also one of the main plot devices relates to who is to have the difficult job of Governor of Britain. There is little else that might be seen as comic to anyone other than many modern opera producers.

The plot is too complex to be set out in full, but in essence it concerns the rivalry of two elderly counsellors to the King of Lombardy. It is set in a legendary time when Lombardy ruled Britain. Their children and other courtiers are linked in various ways and the plot is set in motion by the King’s roving eye. The libretto was adapted by Nicola Haym from one by the Venetian Matteo Noris from 1682. Having heard and greatly enjoyed this recording I very much regret not having seen the version recently toured by English Touring Opera as part of their Handel opera series.

Nonetheless although it does not appear to derive from stage performances, the most distinctive aspect of this recording is its strongly theatrical feel. The recitatives in particular are paced and sung with real dramatic flair, and although my limited Italian meant that I needed to follow the text in the booklet there was at all times a feeling of real dramatic interaction. This is no mere concert performance and I felt as though I was watching a live event. Whilst always staying within the appropriate limits of period style (no verismo shouting here) all of the cast project a distinct set of characters with real feelings. The dramatic context is also projected in the arias - the only ensembles are duets at the start and end and a final chorus for all the surviving characters. All of the roles are well taken and it would be invidious to mention them individually, although the three female singers are particularly good, especially Renata Pokupi? as a courtier in love with the woman with whom the King has himself fallen in love. All of the singers reserve decorations for the da capos, leaving the first time round as the composer wrote them. This is much to be preferred to the alternatives of either omitting decorations altogether, which is dull, or decorating both times, in which case the listener is never able to distinguish which is by the composer and which by the singer. The decorations are well considered and for the most part the singers manage to avoid making them sound too obviously rehearsed. The orchestra, on period instruments, play with great panache under Christian Curnyn without indulging in the sort of exaggeration which some recent recordings of Handel operas seem to find necessary. The recording is clear if somewhat unatmospheric.

In the end it is the work itself that most impressed me. I had not heard it before, but I was wholly transfixed by it. Perhaps its relative brevity, and that of many of the arias, attracted me, together with a more interesting plot than most (albeit equally complex). Each of the three Acts has a distinct character, starting with a relatively light First Act, with many arias in triple time, but ending in a Third Act where the characters’ real feelings and difficulties are apparent. The very beautiful and affecting final aria for Guido is in the unusual key of B flat minor. There are composers who seem to gravitate towards remote keys when particularly touched by a situation - Sullivan is a prime example, but I had never thought of Handel in that way - I will look out for it in future. In a really committed performance like this Flavio stands out as one of Handel’s best operas. It should be in the collection of anyone who wants to experience the full range of his operatic creations. Collectors of recordings of his operas will obviously want this set, but it would be an ideal introduction to the riches of these works for anyone previously unconvinced of their merits.

-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

ECCLES The Judgment of Paris & • Christian Curnyn (hpd, 1–3 cond); Roderick Williams ( Mercury ); Benjamin Hulett ( Paris ); Susan Bickley ( Juno, mez 3 ); Claire Booth ( Pallas Athena, sop 2 ); Lucy Crowe ( Venus, sop 1 ); Richard Sweeney (gtr, archlute); 1–3 Emilia Benjamin (b vl); 1–3 early op company • CHANDOS 759 (62:13 Text and Translation)


& Restless in Thought; 1 Love’s but the frailty of the Mind; 2 I Burn, I burn 3


The Judgment of Paris , the tale of the famed competition between three Olympian goddesses that led to the Trojan War, was itself the subject of a competition. In 1700, a group of English nobility offered up a libretto by the famous William Congreve for competitive setting. Four composers were selected from those who replied to this ad in the London Gazette:


Several Persons of Quality having, for the Encouragement of MUSICK Advanced 200 Guineas, to be distributed in 4 Prizes, the First of 100, the Second of 50, the Third of 30 and the Fourth of 20 Guineas, to such Masters as shall be adjudged to compose the best; this is therefore to give Notice, that those who intend to put in for the Prizes, are to repair to Jacob Tonson at Grays-Inn-Gate before Easter-Day next, where they may be further Informed.


All four completed works were presented on stage individually, in events that, according to Congreve, a social snob of the first water, were “crammed with beauties and beaux, not one scrub being admitted.” This was followed by all four Judgments being offered as a single evening’s entertainment, with subscribers choosing the order of winners. John Weldon, organist of New College, Oxford and a former pupil of Purcell’s, scored something of an upset victory, having little previous theatrical experience. Eccles, the favorite, musical director for the Lincoln’s Inn Fields company and one of the king’s 24 musicians-in-ordinary, came in second, ahead of Daniel Purcell, the late composer’s younger brother. Placing last was Gottfried Finger, a Moravian composer and viol-player who a few professional musicians felt made the best showing of all. According to Roger North, James II’s attorney general and an inveterate concertgoer, Finger complained, perhaps unreasonably, that he had hoped to be “judged by men, and not by boys.” Sadly, his Judgment of Paris is lost, though all three of the others have survived; they were presented in 1989 at Proms concerts, where Eccles was given the palm. I can’t speak to the versions of Weldon or Daniel Purcell, though a bundled recording of all three works would have made for some fine comparisons. In any case, the opera of Eccles is by no means easily dismissed. Choral pieces are handled with distinction. Melodies are usually unadorned, and not infrequently possess a popular cast. The work is technically assured, rhythmically varied, and theatrically alive.


The judgment section of the piece, following the exposition, supplies a good illustration of the composer’s gifts. In it, Eccles differentiates among the three goddesses who seek the golden apple from Paris, providing each with a distinctive ritornello and brief, introductory song. Juno receives a majestic march; Pallas Athena, a graceful chaconne, whose accented second beat seems to sweep all before it; Venus, a minor-key sarabande that utilizes two recorders and a flute in the melodic line to emphasize what the period perceived as femininity. (At least she comes off better than in Tannhäuser .) Congreve shrewdly leaves out all efforts at bribery up to this point, however, leading to confusion in the mind of Paris, and a second, intensified round of presentations by the deific trio. In the fey “Let Ambition fire thy Mind,” Juno delivers a darkly martial, minor-key piece. She promises to Paris the delights of ruling an empire without toil or care. (The concluding verse, given to the divided chorus, with the violins running semiquaver figures, is especially effective.) The theme itself proved catchy enough upon publication to survive as a popular solo fiddle tune of the day. Boswell wrote of his almost obsessive affection for it. Ironically, a friend of mine who was part-timing as a Celtic fiddler once asked me if I knew why an old piece he played was given the odd name of “Let Ambition fire thy Mind.” After that, “Hark, hark! the glorious Voice of War” seems a small step down in energy and character, though it grants Pallas the first appearance of trumpets in the opera, alla battaglia . Venus restores an edge to the competition with “Nature fram’d thee sure for Loving,” a haunting minor key tune whose sensuous intimacy proves Handel wasn’t the only one capable of musically ravishing an English Baroque audience.


The recording concludes with three “mad songs.” These were very popular on London stages at the time, involving a female singer whose unrequited or suddenly terminated love leads to insanity. This chaotic madness is then revealed in a series of rhetorically balanced and logically contoured poems. I confess to little love for the genre, as you might guess from my remarks, but these three of Eccles are at least pleasant, if unmemorable. I find the best of the lot to be “I burn, I burn, my Brain consumes to Ashes,” and that’s at least in part due to its performer, Susan Bickley. If this recording were to offer its own golden apple to one of its three female soloists for articulation, tone, and dramatic interpretation, she would win, hands down. Bickley is one of those mezzos who shade up to a soprano, and her upper range is bright and ringingly glorious in its sound. Claire Booth’s slightly dull tone is not always well supported, and though she enunciates well, I find her far too restrained in lines that brim over with ardor for and joy in war. Lucy Crowe’s sweet tone and refined phrasing makes her an excellent choice for Venus, though, and if she’s rushed a bit in the opera, there’s more expressiveness in her mad song, “Restless in Thought disturb’d in Mind.”


The rest of the cast is top notch. Benjamin Hulett displays an attractive lyric tenor voice, notable for its sensitive deployment of color in “O Ravishing Delight.” Baritone Roderick Williams does a particularly fine job with the phrasing of his only song, “Fear not, Mortal, none shall harm thee.” This is my first exposure to the early opera company, an ensemble of 22 performers; effectively 18, if you disregard the brief appearance of the four trumpets. They deploy two bass violins and a bass viol instead of cellos and double basses on this release, along with a lowered A pitch of 392 Hz. The resulting sound is mellow, if not dark, vitiated by a few rushed tempo choices, notably Venus’s second song. Balance between singers and orchestra is good, with excellent choices for continuo.


It’s great to have this major work by Eccles easily available on disc. Perhaps we can now get the other two extant versions of the opera, as well—or possibly his opera Semele , set to another text by Congreve. Regardless, there’s much to enjoy, here.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

Recorded in: Goldsmith's College, New Cross, London 9-14 August 1994 Producer(s) Brian Couzens Sound Engineer(s) Ralph Couzens Richard Smoker (Assistant)

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

Classical Music

ORATORIO

Rizzi and his superb Welsh Opera forces now grace the Janacek canon.

This is the fifth Janácek opera in Chandos’s Opera in English series, and with vivid, well separated sound, balancing the voices in front of the orchestra, the first impression is how clear the words are from the singers of the Welsh National Opera production on which the recording is based. This is a very welcome companion to the outstanding English version of The Makropulos Case (4/07) conducted by Sir Charles Mackerras.

Carlo Rizzi, who conducted the live performances for WNO, is a comparably persuasive Janácek interpreter. It is fascinating to compare this version with Mackerras’s Decca recording (12/05) with the Vienna Philharmonic and an excellent, mainly Czech cast, Elisabeth Söderström taking the title-role. If that recording is marginally richer and weightier than the new Chandos, the strings of WNO play with comparable refinement. Rizzi’s interpretation in all three acts is a degree more urgent, with speeds consistently faster, no doubt reflecting his experience of conducting it live.

As in the English Makropulos Case, the principal singer is Cheryl Barker, fresh, clear and powerful, more girlish-sounding than Söderström. Jane Henschel is outstanding as Marfa Kabanova, the rich widow who persecutes her daughter-in-law, wonderfully rich and firm throughout her range. The three tenor roles are exceptionally well taken, even if the contrasts between Robert Brubaker as Boris, Peter Wedd as Kudryash and Peter Hoare as Tichon, husband of Katya and son of Marfa, are not ideally marked. Gwynne Howell as the merchant Dikoi, uncle of Boris, is also excellent.

The old Norman Tucker translation is used with some minor amendments by Rodney Blumer, nom de plume of critic Rodney Milnes, with words admirably clear throughout, adding to the dramatic impact of the piece. Another outstanding issue in the Opera in English series.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [12/2007]

MANRU