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SaleRimsky-korsakov: Legend Of The Invisible City Of Kitezh / Vedernikov, Kazakov, Panfilov
Naxos AudioVisual · Dec 2011DVD$37.99$18.99 -
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Monteverdi: Il ritorno d'Ulisse in patria / Pearlman, Boston Baroque
Linn Records · May 2015SACD$28.99 -
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Purcell: The Fairy Queen 1692 / Sampson, Daniels, McCreesh, Gabrieli Consort
Signum Classics · Apr 2020CD$27.99 -
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Gluck: Orfeo & Euridice / Orlinski, Dreisig, Said, Plewniak, Il Giardino d'Amore
ERATO · Aug 2024CD$18.36
RUM & COCA COLA
You & Me: Peking Opera (2pc)
BABYFACE SONGBOOK
I WISH YOU LOVE: MORE FROM THE BODYGUARD
BEST OF NINA SIMONE
Rimsky-korsakov: Legend Of The Invisible City Of Kitezh / Vedernikov, Kazakov, Panfilov
RIMSKY-KORSAKOV The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden Fevronya • Vitaly Panfilov ( Prince Vsevolod ); Tatiana Monogarova ( Fevronya ); Mikhail Gubsky ( Grishka Kuterma ); Mikhail Kazakov ( Prince Yury ); Gevorg Hakobyan ( Fyodor Poyarok ); Marika Gulordava ( Page ); Valery Gilmanov ( Bedyay ); Alexander Naumenko ( Burunday ); Alexander Vedernikov, cond; Cagliari Th O & Ch • NAXOS 2.110277/78 (2 DVDs: 187:28) Live: Cagliari 5/2–4/2008
I wanted to see this video because, for many years, I’ve heard exorbitant praise from certain critics regarding Kitezh , yet in listening to the commercial recording conducted by Valery Gergiev I felt let down. The music seemed to me flat and characterless, lacking drama, development, and momentum. Surely, I said to myself, a good stage production would change my mind, as it did with Mussorgsky’s Khovanschina.
Yet opinions on The Invisible City of Kitezh (to abbreviate its title) are divided. Although many critics wax ecstatic over Rimsky-Korsakov’s magnificent orchestration for this work, few outside Russia are very impressed by the opera as a whole. It is an overlong, derivative grand opera in which two old tales of magic were welded together by librettist Vladimir Belsky, and finally presented intact in 1908. Even the first Russian audiences didn’t care much for it, finding it very old-fashioned in concept and musical style as well as overly rambling, though it is still periodically revived, mostly within Russia.
This production gives us a rare glimpse of the opera as performed in Italy. The audience reaction is not enthusiastic; on the contrary, when the applause comes at the ends of acts, it sounds like perhaps 80 to 100 people half-heartedly clapping.
One glance at the production tells you why. Although it is not Regietheater —the characters are, thankfully, clad in traditional-looking costumes—Eimuntas Nekro?ius’s idiotic staging has too much symbolism and too little that resembles reality. The first act, set in the “woods,” presents a stage littered with “wooden” structures, bird houses and the like. Get it? Woods. The presentation of Little Kitezh, where the maiden Fevronya is to marry Prince Vsevolod, is cluttered with giant, tinfoil-covered bell-like objects with people popping out of their tops. Get it? Bells. This kind of idiocy continues throughout a production of a work in which the music itself is also static and rarely wedded to the text. In act IV, scene 1, where Fevronya and Grishka are supposed to be wandering in the woods, what you see is a plain blue-tiled floor with two Erector-set structures in the background. Apparently, Nekro?ius ran out of birdhouses, but not to despair! When Grishka runs off into the woods and Fevronya is left alone, two giant, hideous bird creatures sneak out of the woods and behind her as she sleeps. Perhaps Nekro?ius has seen too many of the Alien movies. In the final scene, supposed to represent Kitezh triumphant, the stage is filled with objects that look like rocket silos.
Musically, many passages sound like leavings from Boris Godunov, and not good leavings at that, so even when the singers are excellent the plot crawls along. It is an opera more about characters who stand there and sing than about characters creating a musical drama. Compare, for instance, the first act to the similar situation in Verdi’s Don Carlo. A prince meets a beautiful woman in the woods, and they fall in love. Verdi miraculously manages to wed lovely music, some of it even memorable, to a flexible musical structure in which the orchestra comments on or moves the action. Rimsky-Korsakov creates a static structure wedded to pretty but undistinguished melodies that just toodle along, and do so for half an hour.
Moreover, the plot is remarkably dismal and depressing for a magic or fairy-tale opera. Everyone sings about death even before the Tartars invade Russia, and several characters die except Fevronya and the seedy drunkard Grishka Kuterma, who becomes a traitor, willing to turn Kitezh over to invading Tartars and finger Fevronya as the snitch just to save his own worthless hide. Prince Vsevolod goes off to battle for Kitezh, not to win it but to die in it. (I’m guessing he flunked military school.) He does so, but returns in the second half of act IV as a ghost, and at the end of the opera Fevronya marries the ghost. And you talk about overlong … each of the first two acts runs over a half hour, but each of the last two acts runs more than an hour apiece.
Getting to the performance, Tatiana Monogarova is simply magnificent as Fevronya, not only vocally but histrionically, which is important because this is a rare Russian opera in that the soprano dominates everything. Here is a woman who fully understands how to inhabit a role. You come to believe wholeheartedly in her character within the first five minutes she is onstage, and she holds you in her thrall to the end. As for her voice, it is a remarkably rich lyric soprano, close to spinto in power, exactly the kind of voice Rimsky wanted for this part. Her midrange, in fact, reminds me strongly of Mirella Freni at her best, only with more power. The top range is not as lovely as Freni’s, but it has its own interesting luster and more metal. Monogarova made her American debut as Lisa in Pique Dame in Houston in 2010, and also began singing Cio-Cio-San around the same time in Europe. She is signed with IMG, and I really do wish her well in what I hope will be a major career.
Vitaly Panfilov, as Prince Vsevolod, is neither an interesting actor nor a particularly fine singer. The voice is fluttery, dry, and percussive. He sings on pitch and phrases well, but that is all one can say of him. His stage presence registers somewhere between nil and mediocre. On the other hand, Mikhail Gubsky as the nefarious Grishka Kuterma is a superb stage actor, though his voice is strictly that of a good comprimario. Nevertheless, the world needs good comprimarios, and he is certainly one of them. His pathetic wheedling is completely believable.
A word of praise is also due Marika Gulordava in the somewhat thankless role of the Page. The Page is analogous to Cassandra in Les Troyens or the Simpleton in Boris, someone who warns of danger to come. Though her role is important it is not as long as either of the other two, yet Gulordava is simply stunning in her one big scene. Her voice is not as beautiful as Monogarova’s, but it has a laser-beam focus with a bright, perhaps over-brilliant top. As a musician and singing actress she is first-rate. I also hope for her to have a good career. Mikhail Kazakov, singing the role of Vesvolod’s father, Prince Yury, has a nice voice but an uneven flutter and a constricted low range, a real detriment for a Russian bass.
Alexander Vedernikov is a fine conductor who obviously loves and understands this music. He brings out all of the wonderful orchestral subtleties of the score and moves the opera about as well as can be expected under the circumstances. Indeed, his conducting here is finer for this particular work than Gergiev’s.
My copy of the DVD may have been defective, but all through the first two acts the video is out of synch with the audio, as if one were watching something in which the video was on a two-second tape delay. On the second DVD, most of it is in synch, yet there are still strange moments when the picture freezes for a couple of seconds, only to jump ahead and eventually catch up with the audio.
Thus there are good and bad points to be taken into consideration in approaching both the work and the performance, but if you are fond of Kitezh I would recommend this for the excellent acting of a handful of participants and the excellent singing of the two sopranos.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
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THE LEGEND OF THE INVISIBLE CITY OF KITEZH AND THE MAIDEN FEVRONYA
Opera in 4 Acts. Sung in Russian
Libretto by Vladimir I. Belsky
Prince Yuri Vsevolodovich – Mikhail Kazakov
Hereditary prince Vsevolod Yuryevich – Vitaly Panfilov
Fevronya – Tatiana Monogarova
Grishka Kuterma – Mikhail Gubsky
Fyodor Poyarok – Gevorg Hakobyan
Page – Marika Gulordava
Two notables – Gianluca Floris, Marek Kalbus
Bedyay – Valery Gilmanov
Burunday – Alexander Naumenko
Orchestra e Coro del Teatro Lirico di Cagliari
(chorus master: Fulvio Fogliazza)
Alexander Vedernikov, conductor
Eimuntas Nekrošius, stage director
Marius Nekrošius, set designer
Nadezhda Gultiayeva, costume designer
Audrius Jankauskas, lighting designer
Recorded live from the Teatro Lirico di Cagliari, Sardinia, 2 and 4 May 2008
Picture format: NTSC 16:9
Sound format: PCM Stereo / Dolby Digital 5.0 / DTS 5.0
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: English
Running time: 187 mins
No. of DVDs: 2 (DVD 5 + DVD 9)
New Love Must Rise: Selected Songs Of Margaret Ruthven Lang, Vol. 2
In October last year, I reviewed for MusicWeb International, the first volume of songs by American composer Margaret Ruthven Lang. She was unknown to me at the time, and naturally, I had never heard her music. Little did I know that I was in for a treat! Indeed, Volume I of Lang’s selected songs was a very pleasant surprise. The music was exquisite and beautifully matched the lyrics. It made me think: where on Earth had this composer been hiding all my life! For me, it was a revelation, which was why I selected it as one of my Recordings of the Year 2011. I have been anticipating the launch of the second volume. Well, it is here now, under the charming title of New Love Must Rise. I am very pleased to say that it does not disappoint; on the contrary, if anything, it is even better than the first.
In a brief interview to me, via e-mail, tenor Donald George, who performs the songs with pianist Lucy Mauro in both volumes, said of Lang’s work: “The songs are simple, eminently singable and enjoyable. They work in the singing voice”. For me, this is exactly why the songs have an instant appeal and the reason why one is happy to listen to them repeatedly. As with the first CD, the songs are organised into topics: The Garden, The Twilight, Nonsense Rhymes and Pictures and Tomorrow and a Lullaby. The recording opens with On an April Apple Bough; a gorgeous piece and one of my favourites in Volume II. Although not the most difficult to perform, its heart-warming, poetic melody immediately has you hooked! All the other songs within the Garden topic are equally beautiful but there are two that stand out and which I would describe as two mini-masterpieces. The first, I Knew the Flowers Had Dreamed of You, is delicate and lyrical. The second, Nameless Pain, sets a poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich, where the music perfectly illustrates the poetry. It is vibrant, poignant and powerful all at the same time; if you close your eyes, you can almost feel the summer wind or the scent of the rose and sense the nameless pain of the poet.
These two precious gems are by no means unique. The second topic, The Twilight, begins with another of these little treasures, Song in the Songless. This is on a poem by George Meredith from “A Reading of Life”. It is an extraordinary piece, emotionally very expressive, almost operatic. It is probably one of the most difficult to sing but also one of the most effective dramatically. It works almost like a duet between the voice and the piano. Donald George does it justice and has here the opportunity of showcasing an excellent technique, with some very warm, confident high notes, a very fine crescendo and the right level of sentiment. The piano line is exquisite and engaging, particularly on its own when responding to the voice. Lucy Mauro’s delicate touch and flawless technique give us a luminous sound of great beauty, adding to the emotional impact of the song.
Besides the abovementioned little masterpieces, there is much to enjoy and admire. All the songs within the second topic, The Twilight, are simply adorable; often evocative of a certain romantic atmosphere that adds to the general charm. Then, there is the very funny, at times witty group of Nonsense Rhymes and Pictures, effectively performed by George and Mauro with humour and a real sense of fun. I felt like jumping in and singing along! The last topic, Tomorrow and a Lullaby, is perhaps, from my perspective, as a linguist, the most fascinating section of the recording. It includes a song in German Lied der Nebenbuhlerin and one in French Lament. These songs are not better than the ones in English but it is remarkable how well Lang is able to compose to languages that were not her own. It shows her versatility, knowledge and sensibility.
Tenor Donald George and pianist Lucy Mauro are in this CD, as in the first, in fine form. The musical rapport between them is transparent throughout, as is their obvious admiration for the composer. They revel in the music; their sheer delight is contagious and, like me, you will suddenly realise that you are smiling, all alone in a room, for no apparent reason!
I could go on forever, describing the intricate beauty of Margaret Lang’s songs, one by one, but then, this review would become far too long! To summarise: the songs of the second volume are as admirable as the ones of the first. Lang’s music is full of appealing melodies and sophisticated harmonies but most of all, the songs have a freshness, an innocence of days gone by. They are often deceptively simple but the more one listens, the more one grasps their delicate complexity. This collection of little musical treasures comes, yet again, in an attractive, colourful package as delightful as the music. There are some very interesting, informative notes, on the composer and her songs, written by Lindsay Kooth.
Finally, I would like to end by making a simple suggestion: Get the recording, close your eyes, lean back and enjoy!
-- Margarida Mota-Bull, MusicWeb International
Itzhak Perlman: Complete RCA & Columbia Album Collection
In celebration of the great Israeli-American violinist’s 75th birthday, Sony Classical is proud to present the first-ever collection of Itzhak Perlman’s complete recordings for RCA and CBS/Sony in a single box set: 18 CDs spanning the years 1965 to 2012.
Itzhak Perlman has dominated the world of violin virtuosos for half a century. His TV appearances had already made him a household name in the US by the time he was 13. A few years later came his Carnegie Hall debut, then the prestigious Leventritt Award, followed by triumphant tours of Israel, North America and Europe between 1965 and 1968. By then he was an international celebrity and recognized “not just as the finest violinist of his generation but as one of the greatest musical talents to emerge since World War II” (leading string authority Tully Potter writing in the NEW GROVE).
And it was then that Perlman began his illustrious, virtually unparalleled career as a recording artist. His first sessions for RCA, accompanied by pianist David Garvey – with works ranging from sonatas by Handel, Leclair and Hindemith to showpieces by Paganini, Bazzini, Sarasate and Falla – took place in New York in 1965 but were not issued for nearly 40 years because the label felt concertos would make a more suitable commercial debut for the rising star. When an album of these pieces was finally released – as “Perlman Rediscovered”, in 2004 – it was hailed “an outstanding tribute to one of the great names among violinists of any age, as well as a remarkably varied and interesting recital in its own right” (ClassicsToday). These tracks are, of course, included in the new collection.
Perlman’s first concerto efforts for RCA – the Tchaikovsky, Sibelius and Prokofiev Second, with Leinsdorf and the Boston Symphony – were set down in 1966/1967 and released the following years as his recording debut. ClassicsToday acclaimed them in a recent reissue as “offering playing that is gutsy and shamelessly virtuosic, and with a sharper rhythmic focus than Perlman often achieved subsequently. The finale of the Sibelius remains a potent example of the playing’s youthful fire.” In 1969, Perlman recorded what was arguably one of the finest albums of his career, the two Prokofiev Sonatas (which he never remade), partnered by pianist Vladimir Ashkenazy at the beginning of their long and distinguished collaboration: “Delicate where needs be … and yet with a Heifetzian resilience that both sonatas willingly respond to … Perlman and Ashkenazy play with astonishing virtuosity” (Gramophone).
Itzhak Perlman’s work for American Columbia began in the mid-1970s and – apart from Bach and Vivaldi multi-violin concertos with Isaac Stern, Pinchas Zukerman and the New York Philharmonic under Zubin Mehta – cover a wide swath of chamber music with special partners: pianists Daniel Barenboim and Emanuel Ax, cellists Yo-Yo Ma and Lynn Harrell and guitarist John Williams. The Mendelssohn Piano Trios with Ax and Ma, first released in 2010, appear here for the first time in a Perlman collection (“…ensemble balance, clarity of inner part-writing, drama, lyricism, and phrase shaping of the highest order … I find these performances not just outstanding; I find them astounding” (Fanfare).
That other John Williams, the legendary composer for the silver screen, was Perlman’s collaborator in another medium, the movies: his two best-selling “Cinema Serenade” albums arranged and conducted by Williams, with Perlman featured in selections from such classic films as Modern Times, Gone with the Wind, The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, Out of Africa, Cinema Paradiso, The Color Purple and, of course, the theme that Perlman memorably performed on the soundtrack of Williams’s Oscar-winning score for the Spielberg masterpiece Schindler’s List.
New to Perlman CD editions are two complete soundtrack albums: John Williams’s “elegant and thoughtful score” for Memoirs of a Geisha in which the violinist is joined by Yo-Yo Ma and to which Perlman “brings a magical and peculiarly oriental sound to his violin-playing” (Gramophone), and the music for Yimou Zhang’s Hero by Tan Dun: “Few composers today write more effective melodies for bowed strings” (Gramophone). And to round off this uniquely wide-ranging survey of the violinist’s musical passions and triumphs, in its first appearance in a Perlman collection, the artist is joined by golden-voiced cantor Yitzchak Meir Helfgot in Eternal Echoes, a highly praised album of liturgical and traditional selections which the violinist has affectionately described as “Jewish comfort music – everything that I recognize from my childhood is in this program.”
SET CONTENTS
DISC 1:
Prokofiev: Violin Concerto No. 2 in G Minor, Op. 63
Sibelius: Violin Concerto in D Minor, Op. 47
DISC 2:
Tchaikovsky: Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 35, TH 59
Dvořák: Romance in F Minor, Op. 11, B. 39
DISC 3:
Prokofiev: Violin Sonata No. 1 in F Minor, Op. 80
Prokofiev: Violin Sonata in D Major No. 2, Op. 94bis
DISC 4:
Lalo: Symphonie espagnole, Op. 21
Ravel: Tzigane, M. 76 (Version for Violin & Orchestra)
DISC 5:
Paganini: Centone di sonate, Op. 64, MS 112 (Sonata No. 1 in A Minor)
Paganini: Sonata for Violin and Guitar in E Minor, Op. 3, No. 6, MS 27
Paganini: Sonata concertata in A Major, Op. 61, MS 2
Giuliani: Duo concertante in E Minor, Op. 25 "Grand Sonata"
Giuliani: Cantabile in D Major, Op. 17, MS 109
DISC 6:
Dohnányi: Serenade in C Major, Op. 10
Beethoven: Serenade in D Major, Op. 8
DISC 7:
Bach, J.S.: Concerto for 2 Violins in D Minor, BWV 1043
Vivaldi: Concerto for 3 Violins in F Major, RV 551
Mozart: Sinfonia Concertante in E-Flat Major, K. 364
DISC 8:
Chausson: Concerto for Violin, Piano and String Quartet in D Major, Op. 21
DISC 9:
Brahms: Violin Sonata No. 1 in G Major, Op. 78
Brahms: Violin Sonata No. 2 in A Major, Op. 100
Brahms: Violin Sonata No. 3 in D Minor, Op. 108
DISC 10:
Mozart: Duo for Violin & Viola in G Major, K. 423
Mozart: Duo for Violin and Viola, K. 424
Leclair: 6 Sonatas for 2 Violins, Op. 3, No. 4
DISC 11:
Lubbock/Rosenbaum/Jones/Temperton: The Color Purple: Main Title
Gardel: Scent of a Woman: Tango (Por Una Cabeza)
Legrand: Yentl: Papa, Can You Hear Me?
Bacalov: Il Postino: Theme
Bernstein: The Age of Innocence: Theme
Williams: Theme (From "Far and Away")
Legrand: The Umbrellas of Cherbourg: I Will Wait for You
Previn: Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Theme
Williams: Sabrina: Theme
Barry: Out of Africa: Main Title
Bonfa: Black Orpheus: Manha de Carnaval
Williams: Main Theme (From "Schindler's List")
Morricone: Love Theme (From "Cinema Paradiso")
DISC 12:
Raksin: Theme from "Laura" (1944)
Steiner: Theme from Now, Voyager (1942)
Chaplin: Smile from "Modern Times" (1936)
Rózsa: Love Theme from Lost Weekend (1945)
Young: St. Patrick's Day from The Quiet Man (1952) (Traditional)
Korngold: Marian & Robin Love Theme from "The Adventures of Robin Hood" (1938)
Hupfeld: As Time Goes By from "Casablanca" (1942)
Walton: Touch Her Soft Lips and Part (From "Henry V")
Young: Stella by Starlight from The Uninvited (1944)
Young: Theme from My Foolish Heart (1949)
Steiner: Tara's Theme (From "Gone with the Wind" 1939)
Newman: Cathy's Theme from "Wuthering Heights" (1939)
DISC 13:
Tan Dun: Works
DISC 14:
Paganini: 24 Caprices for Solo Violin, Op. 1, MS 25
Ben-Haim: Berceuse Sfaradite
Sarasate: Navarra, Op. 33
Handel: Violin Sonata in E Major, Op. 1 No. 15, HWV 373
Hindemith: Violin Sonata, Op. 11 No. 1 in E-Flat
Leclair: Violin Sonata, Op. 9 No. 3 in D
Bloch: Baal Shem: II. Nigun (Version for Violin & Piano)
Falla: Spanish Dance No. 1 (from La vida breve)
Bazzini: La ronde des lutins, Op. 25
DISC 15: John Williams: Works
DISC 16:
Mendelssohn: Piano Trio No. 1 in D Minor, Op. 49
Mendelssohn: Piano Trio No. 2 in C Minor Op. 66
Mendelssohn: Songs without Words, Op. 19, No. 1 Sweet Remembrance" - Andante con moto"
Mendelssohn: Songs without Words, Op. 38, No. 2 - Allegro non troppo
DISC 17:
Berditchever: A Dudele
Shenker: Mizmor L'Dovid
Goldfaden: Shoyfer Shel Moshiakh
Schwartz: Romanian Doyne
Rosenblatt: T'filas Tal
Traditional: Yism'chu
Schloßberg: R'tzay
Traditional: Dem Trisker Rebns Khosid
Schorr: Sheyibone Bays Hamikdosh
Traditional: Kol Nidrei
DISC 18:
Tchaikovsky: Sérénade mélancolique, Op. 26, TH 56
Tchaikovsky: Valse-Scherzo, Op. 34, TH 58
Dvořák: Romance in F Minor, Op. 11, B. 39
Dvořák: 8 Humoresques, Op. 101, B. 187: No. 7, Poco lento e grazioso (Transcribed by Oscar Morawetz for Violin, Cello & Orchestra)
Dvořák: Piano Trio No. 4 in E Minor, Op. 90, B. 166: "Dumky", V. Allegro
Dvořák: Slavonic Dances, Op. 72, B. 147: No. 2, Dumka. Allegretto grazioso
Halvorsen: Passacaglia and Sarabande for Violin and Viola (With Variations on a Theme by Handel)
Walton: Canzonetta from Henry V
Williams: Air and Simple Gifts
Gotti / O.s.t.
SING SING SING
WONDERFUL
POWER OF PEACE
Monteverdi: Il ritorno d'Ulisse in patria / Pearlman, Boston Baroque
Martin Pearlman has made his own performing version of the score, working from the only surviving manuscript copy. He explains his editing decisions in the booklet note, and you can also hear him talk about it at length, if you're interested. You'd need to be a greater expert than I am to pick out any major differences from pre-existing versions. Suffice to say that Pearlman makes his own decisions about how to fill in the gaps that have been left in the score.
The result is a labor of love in which he has invested much of his time, energy and passion, and that comes across in what you hear. He has also assembled a team who have bought into his vision completely, performing with passion and total commitment. Central to the sound-world of the recording is the playing of Boston Baroque, Pearlman's own band. They sound as marvelous as their other recordings have led me to expect. There is a slightly acidic quality to their sound but it is very energetic and full of affection. This is a score, and an edition, that Pearlman knows well and wants to bring to life with beauty and affection. There were innumerable touches that brought it to fruition, such as the chattering brightness that the winds often brought to proceedings. Pearlman's way with the dance music is very convincing. I also loved vitality of the score for the brief pastoral scene at the opening of Act 2, full of tremendous verve. The orchestral accompaniment to the gods' scene in the third act also sounds very fine. Throughout the opera there is a focus on beauty above all. This never undermines the drama, however, and many little touches bring that to the fore over and over again.
The singing cast is excellent, too. Fernando Guimarães is magnificent as Ulisse himself. His voice is passionate, ardent and fully committed, a delight in this role which he makes sound totally human. His mannerisms are technically very impressive too. He knows and loves the style of the period, which makes him a first-rate travelling companion for Pearlman's vision. Jennifer Rivera's Penelope is, if anything, even better. Hers is a low, slightly husky voice but I fell for it completely. Her portrayal of the queen is sensual and dignified but deeply felt, and her opening lament is something that not just welcomes you into the opera but gets you hooked. She is equally fine during the climactic scene of Act 2 when she presents Ulysses' bow to the suitors for the contest, full of possibility but also ample regret. The greatest moment in the opera comes in the final recognition duet, where the voices of Guimarães and Rivera blend beautifully while the orchestra spins a beatific web of sound around them. It's a magnificent ending to the disc.
Aaron Sheehan is a dashing, youthful-sounding Telemaco, who sings with ardour and passion, linking him with but setting him apart from the sound of his father. As Melanto, Abigail Nims is energetic and skittish, a strong contrast to Penelope. Their duet towards the end of Act 1 is beautiful, not least due to the contributions of the Boston Baroque strings. Daniel Shirley's Eurimaco manages to convey much of the character's duplicity, and his voice blends beautifully with Nims'. Daniel Auchincloss is a surprisingly virile, affectionate Eumete, while Marc Molomot cuts a slightly ironic, rather unpleasant figure as Iro, but at least he knows that the part is little more than a comic caricature. The trio of suitors are surprisingly sympathetic, and their Act 2 trio with Penelope (Ama dunque, sì, sì) is very beguiling. Antinous has an eerie resonance, however, and Ulysses Thomas' resonant bass brings him to life very compellingly.
The gang of gods are also very convincing. João Fernandes is a rich, boomy Neptune - beautifully accompanied, first by the buzzing organ then by endearingly chattering cornetts - while Owen McIntosh's tenor makes a surprisingly young-sounding, vigorous Jupiter. Leah Wool is at first slightly warbly as Minerva, but she sounds more comfortable as the opera progresses. Sonja DuToit Tengblad is a bright, sparkly Juno. The Prologue, too, sets the tone for the rest of the opera to come: bouncy and full of life; not at all a mere forethought. The chorus don't have much to do, but what they have is done very well with lots of energy and bounce.
Even aside from its unique qualities, this Ulisse sits pretty close to the top of the available recordings that I've heard. Its studio perfection is more welcoming than Alan Curtis' live version, for all its merits, and, while I acknowledge his importance, I've never been able to love Harnoncourt's version which sounds paradoxically wilful and underdone in places. René Jacobs typically has his own quirks and, for once, I thought they worked rather well, but I now rate Pearlman's version very highly too. Definitely worth a look for Monteverdians old and new.
– MusicWeb International (Simon Thompson)
De Profundis, Miserere, Requiem / Backhouse, Vasari Singers
This is a programme of connections, one of which is the commissioning, by Harry Christophers and The Sixteen, of a setting of the Miserere by James MacMillan specifically to complement the Allegri setting. MacMillan succeeds brilliantly in fulfilling the request for his piece to be complementary and it’s very good to hear the two settings side by side, as here. Allegri uses three different choral strands in his setting: the full choir, plainchant verses sung by one or more male voices, and a distant semi-chorus. Some recent recordings I’ve heard opt to have the chanted passages sung by a lone male cantor and that works very well, providing extra contrast. Jeremy Backhouse adopts the more usual approach and has a group of men singing these verses: they do so with impressive unanimity. The semi-chorus is ideally distanced and very impressive they are. The top soprano ornaments some of the phrases. She does so tastefully and these decorations add variety. This is a very successful performance.
James MacMillan didn’t seek to replicate Allegri’s three-strand approach – wisely, I think; that would have risked pastiche. However, he does vary his choral textures most resourcefully during the setting. His piece is expertly imagined for the voices and the music is very responsive to the sentiments expressed in the text. I like very much the way that several times MacMillan writes passages that remind us of Allegri’s setting – yet he writes these sections without compromising his own compositional voice. This is a fine homage to the earlier setting and the Vasari Singers do it very well indeed.
The Allegri and MacMillan pieces are linked, albeit across the centuries. There’s a link also – and one that is much closer in time – between the pieces by Pizzetti and Malipiero that open the programme. They had been good friends but had fallen out – the fault lay with Pizzetti, it seems. In 1937 they patched up their quarrel and, as a gesture of reconciliation, they agreed both of them would write a setting of the De Profundis, each dedicating his piece to the other. Malipiero composed his eloquent setting for a solo baritone accompanied by viola and piano. In this performance an organ is used instead of a piano and, quite honestly, I find it hard to imagine that a piano would be preferable, given the nature of the music and the organ’s sustaining power. Here the baritone is Matthew Wood, a member of the Vasari Singers. He’s very impressive; his voice is well-focused and pleasing in tone and his diction is admirably clear. I enjoyed listening to him very much and the husky tone of Jon Thorne’s viola makes a very attractive addition to the texture. The other interesting feature of the accompaniment is an optional part for bass drum. It’s a very discreet part but Daniel Burges, a member of the choir, gauges the part perfectly so that it adds an unexpected colouring to the piece without intruding.
Pizzetti’s setting, for which he uses a shorter and somewhat different version of the text, is for seven-part unaccompanied choir. It’s very beautiful and Jeremy Backhouse and his singers do it full justice. We should divert for a moment from Pizzetti’s music to consider the small piece by Puccini, which I don’t recall hearing before. It was composed in 1905 to mark the fourth anniversary of the death of Verdi. It’s for chorus accompanied by viola and organ. The viola adds a plangent tone to the texture, which is most effective. It’s a short and largely unassuming piece and, in a programme of links, it merits its place because the second time the piece was heard was at a 1924 memorial service for Puccini at which Pizzetti delivered the eulogy.
It’s Pizzetti who provides the most substantial work on this disc in the shape of his 1922 Requiem for unaccompanied choir. This very beautiful piece is something of a rarity in performance though it’s been recorded at least once before. That recording is a superb Hyperion version by the Choir of Westminster Cathedral and James O’Donnell, made as long ago as 1997 (CDA67017). I don’t see that Hyperion disc as a competitor to this new Naxos recording; rather, the two CDs are complementary. One reason is that the programmes differ: The Westminster Choir, who also include Pizzetti’s De Profundis, offer music by Frank Martin as the remainder of their programme. The other, more important factor is that the two choirs offer very different – and equally valid – listening experiences. The Westminster choir is all-male with trebles on the top-line and they’re recorded in the spacious acoustic of Westminster Cathedral. So by listening to them and to the Vasari Singers we can get two nicely contrasting views of Pizzetti’s eloquent Requiem.
There is a pronounced flavour of plainchant in the music and that’s evident right from the start of the Introit. From the basses’ chant-like opening phrases the music soon flowers into lovely polyphony, which is beautifully sung here, the sopranos radiant. There’s a full setting of the Dies Irae and the tone of a lot of the music may come as a surprise. The opening, which is again chant-inspired, is very subdued, basses and altos singing the text while the tenors and sopranos float wordless melismas over the melody. These melismatic phrases recur several times during this movement, which is by some distance the longest in the work. There are several impassioned outbursts when the words justify such treatment but the prevailing mood is that of a prayer for forgiveness. The concluding lines, ‘Pie Jesu Domine, dona eis requiem. Amen’, are set to the most gentle music imaginable. This deeply affecting though brief passage is tenderly sung.
Pizzetti divides his choir into three four-part groups - one female, two male - for the Sanctus. This is memorable, the complex textures creating a ‘buzz’ of sound. The ‘Hosannas’ are ecstatic. The music for the Agnus Dei is texturally much simpler; it’s a gently prayerful setting which the Vasaris sing with great sensitivity. Unlike, say, Fauré or Duruflé, Pizzetti chooses to end not with a setting of In Paradisum but with Libera me. This predominantly dark text is marked to be sung ‘with profound fervour’. This is troubled, unsettled music though there is a serenely beautiful passage at the words ‘Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.’ The very end of the work sets words about God judging the world by fire; a far cry, indeed, from the vision of the angels leading the departed soul into Paradise with which a number of Requiems conclude.
Pizzetti’s Requiem is a work of great beauty and sincerity and it deserves to be far better known than it is. This sensitive and expertly sung performance by the Vasari Singers can only help its cause.
Over the years I’ve heard quite a number of recordings by this choir and I’ve been consistently impressed. However, I fancy this disc may be just about the best thing they’ve ever done. A thoughtfully conceived and interesting programme has been flawlessly executed. The singing not only gives consistent pleasure but also prompts admiration. The recording has been produced by Adrian Peacock and engineered by Will Brown; they have achieved excellent results. Finally, Brenda Moore’s notes are very good indeed. I hope it will not be long before the next Vasari Singers disc and in the meantime I urge you to try this one, especially if you don’t know the Pizzetti Requiem – or even if you do.
– John Quinn, MusicWeb International
Britten: Beggar's Opera / Curnyn, Bickley, White, Jones, Randle
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
PASSION FLOWER (ZOOT SIMS PLAYS DUKE ELLINGTON)
SINGLES COLLECTION PLUS 1969-1977
Moving On
THE CELEBRATED PIANIST JACKY TERRASSON, HAILED BY THE NEW YORK TIMES AS "ONE OF THE THIRTY ARTISTS POISED TO SHAPE THE TRAJECTORY OF AMERICAN CULTURE," UNVEILS "MOVING ON". BACK IN FRANCE AFTER THREE DECADES IN NEW YORK, HE ORGANIZES A DOUBLE NATIONALITY TREASURE HUNT, MIXING CHOPIN AND JAZZ, WITH GUEST ARTISTS SUCH AS KAREEN GUIOCK-THURAM, CAMILLE BERTAULT AND GRÉGOIRE MARET. WITH A NEW-FOUND JOIE DE VIVRE, EACH PIECE TELLS AN ADVENTURE, A STORY, A DELICATE CELEBRATION OF HAPPINESS.
Introduced in The New York Times in 1994 as "one of the thirty artists poised to shape the trajectory of American culture in the following three decades," pianist Jacky Terrasson has lived up to this acclaim by becoming the most widely heard French jazz musician on digital platforms. Born in Berlin in 1965 to an American mother and a French father, he pursued studies in classical piano in France before enrolling at the Berklee College of Music. In 1993, he clinched the prestigious Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz International Piano Competition.
He began his career alongside luminaries such as Betty Carter, Dee Dee Bridgewater, Cassandra Wilson, Charles Aznavour, Guy Lafitte, Barney Wilen, and Ray Brown. Terrasson made his mark. Signing with the legendary Blue Note label under the stewardship of its iconic president, Bruce Lundvall, he embarked on a remarkable 25-year journey of success. An indefatigable globetrotter, he graces the stages of the most illustrious jazz and piano festivals across Europe, the United States, South America, and Asia.
"Moving On," the title of Jacky Terrasson’s new album perfectly sums up the new aspirations "of the most traveling of jazz pianists, a pianist of happiness" (Telerama). After being the muse of the majors (Blue Note & Universal), it is a new adventure as an artist producer and a new path that Jacky Terrasson decided to begin by creating his own label (Earth Sounds). It is also, after 30 years spent in New York, his choice to live again in France, the country where he grew up. But also continue to play regularly on the American continent, a subtle treasure hunt between leaving and returning to the two countries of his dual nationality. It also means offering two trio recording sessions (in France and New York) for the same record with numerous guests: the singers Kareen Guiock-Thuram and Camille Bertault, the harmonica player Grégoire Maret, and the drummers Billy Hart and Eric Harland. And finally, fully embrace his thirst to bring together a Chopin prelude with a jazz standard (Besame Mucho), to invite a bird recorded in Borneo which becomes a piece (Edit Piaf), to write and compose music for his friends (Are you following me, put into words by Camille Bertault), for his desires (Love Light), his travels (AF 006), and to be happy (Happy by Pharell Williams like a fireworks display almost bringing together all the musicians on the album). Behind each title hides an adventure, a story, depth, and the desire to always want to enjoy life with delicacy.
15 titles, including 8 exclusive to the CD edition.
Purcell: The Fairy Queen 1692 / Sampson, Daniels, McCreesh, Gabrieli Consort
Purcell’s The Fairy Queen is based on Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a play not frequently performed in the late 17th century, nor very well regarded (“the most insipid ridiculous play that ever I saw in my life” - Samuel Pepys’ diary, 1662). Despite this, the play would go on to work well within an opera, as the characters of Pyramus and Thisbe could conjure up singing and dancing accomplices. Purcell’s masterful composition, Gabrieli’s first-class performance, and McCreesh’s superb interpretation demonstrate why their recordings are seen as some of the best in classical music today.
Gabrieli are world-renowned interpreters of great vocal and instrumental repertoire, from the Renaissance to the present day. Founded by Paul McCreesh in 1982, Gabrieli have both outgrown and remained true to their original identity: whilst the ensemble’s repertoire has expanded beyond any expectation, McCreesh’s ever-questioning spirit, expressive musicianship and a healthy degree of iconoclasm remain constant and are reflected in the ensemble’s dynamic performances. Gabrieli’s repertoire includes major works of the oratorio tradition, virtuosic a cappella programmes and mold-breaking reconstructions of music for historical events. Above all, Gabrieli aims to create thought-provoking performances which stand out from the crowd.
REVIEWS:
How to pick highlights when everything is a highlight? The First Music introduces us to the string band’s crisp, punchy execution, incising phrasing and tight ensemble. The natural trumpets, especially built for this recording, blaze out triumphantly in the Second Music’s Overture. Further on, they share the limelight with chorus and timpani in the gloriously Handelian “Hail Great Parent of us All”.
By contrast, there are the exquisite recorders and theorbo in the delicate, charming “Symphony in Imitation of Birds”, and the mournful nymph accompanied by a consoling oboe in the air “Oh Let Me Ever, Ever Weep”. Only slightly less melancholy is the gorgeous “If Love’s a Sweet Passion” for nymph, chorus and fawn; the string playing here is as entrancing as the singing. Then there are those brilliant comic moments, like the drunk blindfolded poet tormented by fairies. Or Coridon and Mopsa lustily singing “Now the Maids and the Men are making of Hay” to the frenzied strumming of guitar.
--Limelight
There’s an air of generosity and joy about this recording, as well as a communicative, engaging sense of theatrical narrative that works on its own terms. Reference is made in the thorough and splendid booklet notes which is the work of several hands – and is once again festooned with black and white photographs of a ‘cow and leaf’ nature – regarding the placement of the Chaconne to end the work but that won’t come as a surprise for those who have John Eliot Gardiner’s recording.
This is an elegant, refined and strongly realized performance. Earthier alternatives exist...but if you follow McCreesh and his forces you will lack for little in polish and affect, in the truest sense.
--MusicWeb International
Delius: A Mass of Life, Idyll / Opie, Hill

To witness a performance of Delius’s A Mass of Life, arguably his supreme creative achievement, is to look into the heart of the composer and his Nietzsche-inspired world. Moreover, this ravishing music, written between 1898 and 1905, represents Delius at the height of his powers, when musical ideas seemed to pour out of him at a time when he had finally learned to assimilate, in an entirely individual, not to say maverick manner, a confluence of modernist styles embracing Grieg, Wagner, Strauss, Charpentier and Debussy.
There is no doubt from the vivid opening choruses of Parts 1 and 2 of this recording (and what openings!) that the message of the work is a life-affirming one. There is a dynamic momentum to the tempi which perfectly evokes Zarathustra’s ruling passion, the Will of Man, and there is a richness to the orchestral sound which adds to the sense of muscularity. The chorus negotiate Delius’s often awkward vocal intervals with great skill and the intonation is virtually flawless. Just occasionally the sheer weight of the orchestral sound, which is quite forward on this recording (more so than Hickox), is apt to overwhelm the voices but this is a minor distraction.
Hill brings energy and élan to the third section, ‘In deine Auge’ (for me perhaps the most exhilarating section of Part 1), where the parallel with the end of Act 2 of Die Meistersinger is almost palpable and where the most unusual example of a Delius fugue (!) is given life, vigour and meaning.
Alan Opie, who has the lion’s share of the solo music in the work, is almost Wotan-like in his performances. From his first Nietzschean dance he is majestic and brings out of the score that vibrant, heady, Teutonic contemporaneity with which Delius had clearly become enthralled at this point in his career. Opie’s singing of what is effectively the role of Zarathustra has immense authority and his impressive range (up to high G) is ideal for Delius’s onerous vocal demands.
Andrew Kennedy, Catherine Wyn-Rogers and Janice Watson also offer fine lyrical interpretations of their solo parts and the choral accompaniments are allowed to intermingle subtly as an extension of the orchestra. The BSO are on fine form too, and special mention needs to be made of the haunting horn-playing in the introduction to Part 2 (‘On the Mountains’), a sound which sums up so much of Delius’s nature music.
This is a must for any Delius Liebhaber and, with the added bonus of the late Prelude and Idyll, a marvellous starting point for anyone new to Delius’s unique but compelling art.
-- Jeremy Dibble, Gramophone
DELIUS A Mass of Life. Prelude and Idyll1 • David Hill, Cond; 1Janice Watson (sop); Catherine Wyn-Rogers (mez); Andrew Kennedy (ten); 1Alan Opie (bar); Bach Ch; 1Bournemouth SO • NAXOS 8.572861-62 (2 CDs: 118:19 Text and Translation)
A Mass of Life is quintessential Delius, musically and existentially, composed over 1904–05 in the first great rush of his maturity. From the bounding affirmative choruses to the breathtakingly sustained nature contemplations, from the melancholy to the ecstatic, the Mass of Life traces and forecasts the gamut of Delian affect with a concision, fullness, and abundance he might rival but never achieve so comprehensively again. Unless I’ve missed something, this is but the fourth recording of the work since Beecham’s nonpareil 1952 account. Though its musical demands are daunting—if nowhere near as challenging as those of Mahler’s “Symphony of a Thousand,” with which it invites comparison—the primary bar to frequent performance is its text, drawn by Delius’s friend Ernst Cassirier largely from the Dance Songs of Nietzsche’s Also sprach Zarathustra. For those coming in late, one recalls the oft-quoted passage in Eric Fenby’s Delius as I Knew Him: “When, one wet day … he was looking for something to read in the library of a Norwegian friend … and had taken down a book, Thus Spake Zarathustra—a book for all and none—by one Friedrich Nietzsche, he was ripe for it. The book, he told me, never left his hands until he had devoured it from cover to cover. It was the very book he had been seeking all along, and finding that book he declared to be one of the most important events of his life. Nor did he rest content until he had read every work of Nietzsche that he could lay his hands on”—to which Fenby, a devout Catholic, adds—“and the poison entered his soul.” For listeners and performers today it may still be something of a jolt to find, in place of the supplicating Kyrie that the unfortunate term “Mass” leads one to expect, a glowingly charged hymn to the Will, “dispeller of need, my own necessity,” followed by Zarathustra’s brief praise of laughter (“My own laughter I pronounced holy”), succeeded by Zarathustra’s love duet with Life in a meadow filled with dancing girls, an archetypal encounter transpiring in a mythical dimension “beyond good and evil,” beyond place and time, crowned by the first, murmured, utterance of the Bell Song, the work’s central mystery. A Mass of Life may, of course, be enjoyed for its power and sensuous magic without reference to its text, but only to those nurtured on Nietzsche will it reveal its full import. Shrugging incomprehension of the text renders Benjamin Luxon’s Zarathustra, for Charles Groves (with the London Philharmonic Chorus and Orchestra), merely mellifluous, while Peter Coleman-Wright’s deadpan delivery for the late Richard Hickox—with the Waynflete Singers directed by today’s conductor, David Hill, and the Bournemouth Symphony Chorus and Orchestra—proves anesthetically workmanlike. When it appeared in 1997, I rated that reading, on Chandos, the best since Beecham’s (Fanfare 20:6). That honor goes now to the present offering. While Alan Opie does not efface memories of Bruce Boyce, for Beecham—whose delivery resonated from the nexus of Delius’s realization of Nietzsche—he teases the text gingerly, making a credible Zarathustra. In some numbers, Delius asks the soloists to share parts, with some of Zarathustra’s lines persuasively taken by Andrew Kennedy, and a portion of Life’s happily rendered by Janice Watson, though Catherine Wyn-Rogers’s beguiling, seductive Life recalls Monica Sinclair’s divinatory geste for Beecham. The choral work is beyond praise, though in Hill’s brisk approach the melting lyricism heard chez Beecham tautens and leaps.
Idyll is a late reworking of music from Margot la Rouge, composed in 1902 for the new opera competition offered by the music publisher Sanzogno. Though it failed to score and was not heard in Delius’s lifetime, it comes from the composer’s ripest years and contains gorgeous swaths of his richest utterance, which he salvaged in 1932, recomposing it to words by Whitman and making an extended love duet of it. Idyll has not lacked for vocally lustrous, persuasive performances submerging Whitman’s quaintness (“Behold me when I pass, hear my voice, approach, draw close, but speak not. Be not afraid of me”) in absolute conviction. Of major interest, the lovingly lingering 1981 account led by Eric Fenby—who took down the score from dictation by the blind, paralyzed Delius—features Felicity Lott and Thomas Allen (deleted Unicorn-Kanchana UKCD 2073). Meredith Davies’s still-available 1968 tilt at Idyll, with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, is made memorable by the divinatory partnership of Heather Harper and John Shirley-Quirk. In keeping with his go at the Mass of Life, Hill pushes the work a bit, spurring the impassioned moments to escalate from the pervasive tone of wistful elegy. Opie, as the anonymous man, is authoritatively resonant, in response to Janice Watson’s brightly edged soprano (touched by a bit of vibrato), with its gloriously amber lower register, buxomly filling the part of the nameless woman.
One caveat: In the headnote the title of the work is given per the album, but you will search the catalog of Delius’s works in vain for an orchestral Prelude. The work so designated is simply the first three minutes—an orchestral prelude, to be sure—of Idyll and has never, until now, been listed separately. The fake title generates a phantom work to bedevil buyers, scholars, and connoisseurs, and detracts from—rather than adding to—the program’s generosity.
Sound packs an immediate wallop making for occasional congestion. In the opening chorus, for instance, the leaping underlining of trombones and tubas becomes indistinct, overwhelmed by choral mass, and while one can pick out the glockenspiel, its function of festive accentuation is lost. In quieter passages, and in the capture of the vocalists, on the other hand, this upfront take is gratifyingly welcome. In German, Zarathustra’s pronouncements recall and parody the Lutheran Bible, in light of which the ostensibly stilted thee-ing and thou-ing of William Wallace’s singing translation—made for Beecham and used by him for all of his public performances (according to notes by Delius aficionado Lyndon Jenkins)—fall into place, if not quite into King James English. Whitman’s text is included.
In sum, a superb production and the grandest addition to the Delius discography in many years. Highest recommendation.
FANFARE: Adrian Corleonis
Cilea: Adriana Lecouvreur / Levine, Scotto, Domingo
His approach strikes me as an admirable one, rooted in a real love for the score (he has a distinct talent for making you think again about supposedly second-rate Italian operas: he is a first-rate conductor of Zandonai, for example) and in great consideration for his singers. I suspect that Kabaivanska would have made more of the title-role with support from Levine's supple phrasing, so well attuned to the way Cilea's phrases lie for the voice and to a singer's need to breathe, to approach a climactic note at the voice's own pace. Scotto certainly responds to this, and makes a part that might have seemed a size too large for her (there are one or two brief moments of strain) thoroughly her own, with a range that extends from caressed murmur to splendidly melodramatic hauteur.
Domingo is in ardent voice and fills out the rather thinly sketched Maurizio admirably (Arena's elegant tenor, Alberto Cupido, is rather over-parted) and both baritones, Milnes for Levine and Arena's Attilio d'Orazi make a sympathetic figure of the soft-hearted Michonnet. Obraztsova's fans will not mind too much that she makes the haughty Princesse de Bouillon sound like Azucena or Ulrica (one quite expects her to offer balefully to tell Adriana's fortune) but Arena's Alexandrina Milcheva, a very similar Slavonic voice, does much the same. nut this opera stands or falls on whether the soprano can convince you that she is both a grande dame and touchingly vulnerable, and on whether the conductor realizes how much more than an accompanist he needs to be (Cilea was a cunning builder of dramatic tension, and an imaginative orchestrator). On both counts this set succeeds finely, and it is beautifully recorded.
-- Gramophone [3/1990]
Sondheim: Sweeney Todd / Henschel, Stone, Schirmer
SONDHEIM Sweeney Todd • Ulf Schirmer, cond; Mark Stone ( Sweeney Todd ); Jane Henschel ( Mrs. Lovett ); Gregg Baker ( Anthony Hope ); Rebecca Bottone ( Johanna ); Jonathan Best ( Judge Turpin ); Adrian Dwyer ( Beadle Bamford ); Diana DiMarzio ( Beggar Woman ); Ronald Samm ( Pirelli ); Pascal Charbonneau ( Tobias ); Bavarian R Ch; Munich R O • BR 900316 (2 CDs: 123:59) Live: Munich 5/6/2012
Composer-librettist Stephen Sondheim maintains that Sweeney Todd is not an opera, and so does the annotator for the present release. Nevertheless, Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (its full title), since it premiered on Broadway in 1979, has been revived by several opera companies, including the New York City Opera, the Houston Grand Opera, and the Chicago Lyric Opera. Why? Musically, it is highly sophisticated, and operatic voices are not wasted on it. Furthermore, with its larger-than-life dramatic themes, including mistaken identity, lust, vengeance, obsession, madness, and murder, how more operatic could a theatrical work be?
There have been several recordings of this work, including the unforgettable original cast recording on RCA with Len Cariou in the title role, and Angela Lansbury in the role of Mrs. Lovett, his cheerfully amoral partner in crime. That version will never be eclipsed, but each new recording adds a welcome new perspective. The one reviewed here, recorded in the Munich’s Prinzregententheater, is the most operatic yet, even more than the one with the New York Philharmonic which features singers such as Heidi Grant Murphy (Johanna), John Aler (Beadle Bamford), and Paul Plishka (Judge Turpin). This time around, we have legitimate operatic singers in all of the main roles; only DiMarzio appears not to be a “classical” musician per se. In other words, here we have an ensemble of acting singers, as opposed to singing actors such as Cariou, Lansbury, George Hearn, Patti LuPone, and Michael Cerveris, who all have made major contributions to this opera’s . . . I mean, musical’s performance history.
It turns out fairly well. I was immediately pulled in by Ulf Schirmer’s conducting, which is tense, taut, and stylish. In fact, you might not hear a better conducted Sweeney Todd anywhere. The Bavarian Radio Choir also adds much to the success of this performance. Although their diction is less clear than that of English-speaking ensembles who have recorded this music, their dramatic involvement is high, as is their musicianship.
This is an actual performance. Apparently the time, funds, or energy to correct the inevitable live lapses was unavailable, and thus we have oddities such as Henschel at one point rechristening Beadle Bamford as “Beadle Rumford.” A few memory lapses are covered professionally, but will leave those who know the show well asking, “What did (s)he just sing?” These issues are minor, though.
I’m more concerned about two other points. One is the lack of (black, very black) humor in this production. For example, I can’t understand why, in “A Little Priest,” the wonderfully uncomfortable pun about a meat pie made from a general (“With or without his privates?”) has been removed. This is a grim show, still there is much about it that can be very funny, and allowing it to be so makes the gore and horror even more effective. As the original Mrs. Lovett, Angela Lansbury was charming and endearing; she might bake you into a meat pie, but you couldn’t stay angry with her for long! Henschel can’t inspire that kind of affection, and she makes it clear that her murderous instincts were present even before opportunity allowed them to come out. The other thing that concerns me is the way in which some of the big dramatic moments are almost thrown away. Todd’s aborted murder of Judge Turpin (interrupted by Anthony’s untimely arrival) should be a big moment, but it isn’t. Similarly, soon after, in Todd’s “Epiphany,” we should feel his mind crack and his murderous rage insanely swell to encompass all of mankind, not just the Judge, but Mark Stone is not that fine an actor, the direction is too hurried, and one of the show’s most Brechtian moments doesn’t come off. The last segment of the show, with its string of murders and its Grand Guignol effects, moves forward jerkily, sometimes grinding to a halt, and sometimes not pausing long enough to make its points. On Broadway, Harold Prince would have fixed these miscalculations, but, at least as I am hearing them on CD, they were not addressed in Munich’s Prinzregententheater.
All of the singing itself is very fine. One curiosity is a baritone Anthony; Gregg Baker’s voice is darker than Mark Stone’s. Anthony is supposed to be an inexperienced sailor, newly arrived in London, and the early scenes between him and Todd feel strange, because the voice relationships have been inverted from the original production. I really missed hearing a tenor’s voice soar into “Johanna,” one of Sondheim’s most rapturous love songs. Also, the multinational cast presents a variety of accents. In 1979, Cariou had almost no accent at all, while Lansbury made the most of hers. Here, we have the reverse: a cockney Todd in Baker, and a Mrs. Lovett of no particular nationality or region in Henschel. Someday, there will be a production of this work in which everyone gets on the same page with dialects.
So, if you want an operatic Sweeney Todd , or a fresh look at it, this new recording will satisfy. It has many enjoyable moments, but a few unfortunate ones as well. If you do not know this show at all, however, the Broadway cast recording—still in print, thank goodness!—is the only place to begin. This show is one of the masterpieces of American musical theater, and absolutely needs to be heard.
FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle
Gluck: Orfeo & Euridice / Orlinski, Dreisig, Said, Plewniak, Il Giardino d'Amore
Orfeo in Gluck's opera Orfeo & Euridice has become a signature role for Jakub Józef Orlinski on stages around the world. Now the countertenor embodies the mythical Greek bard in a recording that for him is the realization of a dream. Made in his native Warsaw, it is conducted by the dynamic Stefan Plewniak and the instrumentalists and chorus are drawn from his ensemble Il Giardino d'Amore. The roles of Orfeo's wife Euridice and the god Amore are taken by two further rising stars of the opera and concert stage: the sopranos Elsa Dreisig and Fatma Said. Orlinski has acted as producer, casting director, and, with Stefan Plewniak, joint artistic director of the recording.
"One of my great dreams as a student was to sing the role of Orfeo," says Orlinski, "and now I've been lucky enough to perform Orfeo & Euridice in different settings... Working on those different versions I achieved my very own interpretation. I knew that I would love to create my own personal version of the piece, to record my dream role, expressing myself in the way I wanted... I had a clear vision of what I wanted to do with it and how. The most important thing for me as a musician is to have great collaborators, and I couldn't imagine a better team. Everyone was so willing to make the most of every single take during our long recording sessions. I am really grateful that I can work with people with so much passion... And now I invite you to follow Orfeo on his journey and listen to what the power of love can do."