RECORDING OF THE MONTH- April 2011: DON CARLO by VERDI

Giuseppe Verdi, considered by many to be the greatest composer of Italian opera, worked most of his life attempting to woo the French audiences by writing a great French Grand Opera. In the early 1850s he was approached by the Paris Opéra to write them a piece. The subject of Schiller's Don Carlos was suggested to Verdi - and rejected by him - as a possibility. This work would end up being Les vêpres siciliennes. He was again commissioned for a work in Paris in 1865. The new director at the Paris Opéra, Perrin, discussed numerous topics for this work, primarily with Verdi's French publisher and friend, Escudier. Verdi wanted to set King Lear, a piece that was very dear to his heart that he always wanted to compose but never got the chance, but it was deemed too lacking in spectacle for French Grand Opera. They thought Cleopatra was better, but the lovers wouldn't arouse sufficient sympathy. However, on returning to the subject of Don Carlos, Verdi now considered it "a magnificent drama." Even so, Verdi saw a need to add two new scenes (one between Phillip and the Inquisitor, and one between Phillip and Posa), also the story posed some issues. One being how incredibly long it was. Verdi had to find some places to make cuts. He did this as he usually did by actively overseeing the writing of the libretto (Joseph Méry and Camille du Locle) and advising on it from large structural matters to the most minute details, like phrasing and vocabulary.

This massive work brought on a most arduous of rehearsal periods in 1866. During this time Verdi made some major changes to the libretto like an additional scene for Elisabeth at the beginning of Act V. By February of 1867 rehearsals were coming to a close and it was clear that the work was far too long. Verdi then went to make substantial cuts, namely the Prelude and Introduction to Act I, part of the Phillip-Posa duet in Act II and both the Elisabeth-Eboli duet and Carlos-Phillip duet in Act IV. The premiere was not entirely well received and the work sort of vanished from the repertory after 1869. There were some early Italian revivals of the work in translation, but the length still proved a problem. in 1872 Verdi himself revised the score. He restored some of his early cuts and he cut some new things. in 1882-3 he made a full scale revision of the work, to make the size more manageable, partly in order to replace some pieces he now found unsatisfactory. Important cuts were the whole of Act I (though Carlos's aria was moved to the following Act), the ballet and it's scene, and the Act V chorus. Other scenes were revised, rewritten or reordered. La Scala premiered this new 4-Act version and then two years later a final version which restored Act I was published and started being performed. It is clear to see why we don't see this opera done much. When a company decides to do this piece there are so many questions. What language? It is often done in Italian, although a true Italian "version" does not exist. Only Italian translations. Which version? Or should they do a hybrid version? Whichever version one chooses, it is important to remember that this work is considered by many to be the pinnacle of French Grand Opera style... and written by an Italian!

On the subject of style, it should be noted that after it's 1867 premiere was the first time claims started to be made about Verdi being influenced by Wagner. At this point in time, Wagner's mature works, Tristan und Isolde (1859) and Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (1867), were sweeping the world of opera, so it was not a crazy conclusion to draw. Examples that were used were moments in the duets between Phillip and the Inquisitor and between Phillip and Posa. There are moments when the vocal writing is entirely declamatory. Melody vanishes from the singers and the orchestra takes it over. When the singers are silent, the orchestra seems to be filling the audience in on what the characters are thinking... these were techniques that were considered to be entirely Germanic and entirely Wagnerian, however it is important to mention that the exact same thing could be seen in act III between Rigoletto and Sparafucile in Verdi's Rigoletto sixteen years earlier; eight years prior to Wagner even premiering a work with such compositional tactics. Aside from that, Verdi, while he was most aware of Wagner's presence in the world of opera theoretically, didn't see an opera of Wagner's until the 1871 Italian debut of Lohengrin four years later. The claims of either man "copying" the other are completely based in bias and not remotely in fact, but that's a different blog...

Of all of the recordings of this great French Grand Opera, there are a couple that I think stand above them all in terms of well-roundedness and enjoyment. The one I chose is essentially the original five-act version, only sung in Italian. This selection does not reflect my own personal language preference. I do not feel strongly for either language, but if pressed to decide, I would probably choose French.

This recording, however, contains all other positive aspects of the opera that can be found.

It is EMI's 1970 recording conducted by Carlo Maria Giulini with the Ambrosian Opera Chorus and the Royal Opera House Orchestra, Covent Garden.

Don Carlos - Plácido Domingo

Elisabetta di Valois - Montserrat Caballé

Eboli - Shirley Verrett

Rodrigo, Marquis di Posa - Sherrill Milnes

Filippo II - Ruggero Raimondi

Grand Inquisitor - Giovanni Foiani

First of all, Verrett is not necessarily my favorite Eboli. She understands the role and is certainly fiery in her approach, however the singing (especially the top) I find to be a bit lack-luster. She doesn't ascend to the heights of this role like Simionato did, may she rest in peace, but in all honesty, her amazing rendition "O don fatale" will rouse the excitement of any listener.

Ruggero Raimondi is a very high quality Filippo. The fact that he is Italian certainly gives him the benefit on this disc of excellent word colouring and phrasing. His opening aria of Act IV truly sparkles with the diction, however his voice lacks the fearsome presence of his notable predecessors of the role, Boris Christoff & Nicolai Ghiaurov. The grand Inquisitor also leaves me wanting a bit more. His voice remains a bit shaky to my ear which immediately strips him of his immense power, however, this being one of my all-time favourite roles in the operatic repertory, I recognize that I am a bit picky. With that said, the duet scene between the two is extremely energized and communicates at a very personal level, possibly just due to the native Italian singers.

One thing that cannot be ignored about this set is the 70s trio of Domingo, Caballé and Milnes. They seemed to headline every Italian opera recording of the time, and while one may wish for more diversity, how I wish our world still had as many singers today of this caliber.

Caballé is in excellent voice on this reading. From the phenominal Carlos-Elisabetta duet in Act I to the magnificent "Tu che le vanita" in Act V. Like other heavy roles she sang, she sometimes lacks the innate power in her voice that is required, but she makes up for it with her flawless, sparkling soft notes.

Domingo is in top form here. From beginning to end he maintains a clear and easy beauty of tone and the power needed to express the necessary intensity... and he does it all without ever sounding like a baritone. Bravo, Plácido. In one of Domingo's autobiographies, he said that Don Carlo would have always been his favourite role to sing, except it only had one aria. This is was the only thing that kept it from being his favourite role, and we can hear his connection to Carlo in the intense personal touches he scatters throughout the score.

Milnes may not be the Posa that Cappuccilli is, but where he lacks, he makes up for it with energy and individuality. He makes this role his own. He brings out the relationships in the story like very few have been able to do. This may be due to his offstage relationship with his other two cohorts, but whatever the reason, it yields a great result.

The star of the recording has to be Giulini. This masterpiece had been in the works since he conducted the opera at Covent Garden in 1958 to tremendous success (bootlegs of this performance can be found). Since then, his tempi seem to have slowed down a bit, but for recording purposes, I think it works well. It brings out the pomp and grandeur of Schiller's "magnificent drama." His hand brings the music to life with a warmth that can speak to any listener in this, one of Verdi's most human operas.

Other recordings of this work to look into are the 1977 live La Scala recording conducted by Abbado with Jose Carreras, Mirella Freni, Piero Cappuccilli, Nicolai Ghiaurov and Elena Obraztsova or the V act French Abbado recording with Domingo, Nucci, Ricciarelli, Terrani, Raimondi and Ghiaurov… but if you were to have only one recording of Verdi's biggest and most complicated work, I recommend this recording first.

-Christopher Michael Kelley

RECORDING OF THE MONTH- February 2011: JENŮFA by JANÁČEK

Leoš Janáček premiered his third opera, Jenůfa, Její pastorkyňa (Jenůfa, Her stepdaughter), at the Brno Theater in Brno in what is now the Czech Republic on 21 January 1904. This was Janáček’s first opera that got him any success and the first opera where we really hear his operatic voice starting to come out. The libretto for Jenůfa, also written by Janáček, was based on the play Její pastorkyňa by Gabriela Preissová, the same playwright from whom he got the story for his previous opera, Počátek Románu or The Beginning of a Romance in 1894. He is thought to have written Jenůfa between 1896 and 1902. Janáček came to opera later in life, he was thirty-three at the premier of his first opera, he was fifty by the time Jenůfa opened and his greatest operas were written after the age of sixty-five. Jenůfa holds an interesting place in Janáček’s memory as he recounts twenty years later in his autobiography: “I would bind Jenůfa with the black ribbon of the long illness, the pain, and the sighing of my daughter Olga and my little boy Vladímír.” His little boy in which he speaks of died at an early age a few years before he started writing on Jenůfa, and his daughter, Olga, became ill in 1902 and died just before the completion of Jenůfa, a few months before her twenty-first birthday. Fortunately he did get to play most of the opera to her on her deathbed. The opera is dedicated to her memory.

He presented the opera first to the Prague National Theatre in March 1903, but was rejected. Many believe this is due to bad blood towards him by Karel Kovařovic, the opera head. But even without Prague, the opera premiered in Moravia in Brno the next year and conducted by Janáček’s pupil, Cyril Metoděj Hrazdira. It went of without a hitch and achieved some popular success but still was not performed anywhere for twelve years after that. Finally in 1915, Kovařovic, while under much pressure from Janáček’s friends, consented to put on the work in Prague, but only after his own personal revisions (some major cuts and he reorchestrated a good portion of the score), Janáček agreed to the terms, as he was now sixty-one and had waited long enough. The work was given finally in Prague on 26 May 1916. Soon after the work was translated into German and performed in Berlin in 1918 under the baton of Erich Kleiber. This is what solidified Jenůfa’s reputation in Germany and the rest of the world and led to fifty more performances of Jenůfa before Janáček’s death in 1928.

Unfortunately, it was Kovařovic’s revision of the text that remained the status quo in performances around the world until 1982 when Sir Charles Mackerras reconstructed and recorded Janáček’s original Brno version for Decca, which also contains the original Overture, entitled Žárlivost, or Jealousy, which the composer never heard open his opera during his lifetime.

The original title, Jenůfa, Její pastorkyňa, pastorkyňa literally just means ‘not own daughter’. This is referring to Jenůfa being both foster-daughter and stepdaughter to the Kostelnička.

It is important to note that one should not emphasize too much the violent acts in this story in order to relate it to the Verismo trend at the time of this opera’s premier. The goal of this work, it seems, is less about showing the ‘real’ troubles of the working people, and more to show a kind of spiritual growth and development. Watching through the opera how Jenůfa and Laca both grow from selfish, obsessive people in scene one, to the forgiving, and understanding human beings in the final scene... in other words, from youth to adulthood. The violence is not what should be shocking here, but the hard lessons that life has dealt them. The Kostelnička most of all, which is fitting as the full title truly reflects her as the main character.

When looking for a recording of this opera, especially a FIRST recording, there is really only one to turn to. The first recording of the work as originally intended by its composer. This is the recording mentioned above from Decca in 1982 by Sir Charles Mackerras. The cast is as follows:

Jenůfa - Elisabeth Söderström

Kostelnička - Eva Radnová

Laca - Wieslaw Ochman

Števa - Petr Dvorskü

Karolka - Lucia Popp

Stařenka - Marie Mrazov

Stárek - Václav Zitek

Wiener Staatsoper Chor & Orchester

Elisabeth Söderström is a very believable and empathetic Jenůfa. You feel her pain with her all the way. Her prayer is pure and contrite and her forgiveness of the Kostelnička is full of tenderness and epiphany.

The two tenors are perfectly cast in their contrasting roles and Laca really does win the audience over in the end despite his audacious actions of the first act.

Eva Radnová is most obviously a singing actress of high regard. She sings this complex role with a terrifying intensity yet retains her very human core throughout the set. Her monologue has impeccable commitment and her outburst that ends act II would send shivers down the spine of any music and/or drama lover.

The reason to get this disc though is for the recently passed genius, Sir Charles Mackerras (November 1925 - June 2010). As a young man, after winning a British Council Scholarship, he was able to study conducting with Václav Talich at the Prague Academy of Music. While there he became quick friends with Jiří Tancibudek, principal Oboe of the Czech Philharmonic, who introduced him to the works of Janáček. This started a life long love affair and Mackerras became one of the world's leading authorities on Czech music, most specifically, the music of Leoš Janáček. He single handedly brought him back onto the map. Any singer today who has sung Czech rep can testify to how much Sir Charles Mackerras helped them get through it. On this reading we see Mackerras at his best. He has a deeper understand of the literature than most of today's conductors. The 20th Century dissonances are brought out in a way that pulls at the listener and, like Puccini, almost manipulates them to feel what the characters are feeling, and the lush, beautiful moments of pure tonality resolve the Angst in a way that could make the most hard hearted among us feel hope for a brighter future. The last 10 minutes on this disc shine and affect the listener as much as any moment of Verdi or Puccini.

Because of this recording, and primarily Sir Charles Mackerras, I have found a new love for this entirely underrated Czech composer.

If you want something different to listen to, if you need a short hiatus from La Traviata, La Bohème, and Le Nozze di Figaro (God forbid), then this is a disc I recommend.

-Christopher Michael Kelley

RECORDING OF THE MONTH- January 2011: OTELLO by VERDI

Giuseppe Verdi and Arrigo Boito's Dramma lirico in four acts after Shakespeare's Othello premiered in the Teatro alla Scala, 5 February 1887, and it is truly one of the great wonders in the world of opera.

Between 1839 and 1871 (32 years), Verdi produced 26 operas. After Aida in 1871, Verdi went 16 years without one operatic premiere. He wanted Aida to be his last opera. It was a grand swan song to go out on. Many considered him after his retirement to be a bit old-fashioned. Verdi himself was not too keen on the direction that Italian music was headed, and he looked elsewhere during the 1870s for new ideas and aesthetic attitudes. This may well have contributed to his reluctance to write any new works after the Requiem of 1874. But after some minor coaxing and cajoling by those close to him rumors started to fly about a new work. He had always wanted to set Shakespeare's King Lear, but after much rumor and discussion he eventually agreed to collaborate with Boito on Otello.

What they ended up with was a work entirely unlike anything that had ever come out of Italy, and what is really one of the most perfect operas that still has ever been written. The fourth act of Otello being arguably the most perfect act of any opera ever written.

Its popularity still has not surpassed his three middle period masterpieces, Rigoletto, Il Trovatore and La Traviata, but this is hardly surprising considering the tremendous demands that are put on the orchestra and the soloists in the score. Seeing a truly GREAT production of this opera is a very rare thing indeed, as the role of Otello is quite possibly the most demanding tenor role in the whole of the repertoire.

There are some truly fantastic recordings of this magnificent work and selections available on disc with some of the greatest Otello's to have portrayed the role: Francesco Tamagno (originator), Leo Slezac, Jon Vickers, Enrico Caruso, Mario del Monaco, Placido Domingo and others.

I will NOT be reviewing what I would consider THE BEST recording of this opera, but one that I think is very special indeed and an entirely moving and interesting performance.

December 1948 live telecast recording from The Met conducted by Fritz Busch:

Otello - Ramón Vinay

Iago - Leonard Warren

Desdemona - Licia Albanese

Emilia - Martha Lipton

Cassio - John Garris

Roderigo - Thomas Hayward

with the orchestra and chorus of the Metropolitan Opera house.

Iago is without a doubt the real mover and shaker of this story. Warren's beast of a voice, that was said to "fill the house like black smoke" is heard hear in rare form. He may not have been the world's all time greatest Iago, he is probably no Victor Maurel, Antonio Scotti or Lawrence Tibbett dramatically, but he follows each and every musical nuance indicated in Verdi's cherished score to the "T". Half of the drama is taken care of for him by Verdi and Boito's brilliance. While others give more depth and subtlety to this incredibly complex character, he does an admirable job and makes up for it with his thick, miracle of a voice. It is hard for me to be TOO negative on his performance as I am a true admirer of his voice and style, but dramatically the role is just slightly beyond his capabilities and lacks that final level of commitment and honesty in this Shakespearean character.

Licia Albanese, on the other hand, while she may not have had the most beautiful instrument, was the leading singing actress of the Metropolitan Opera between 1940 and 1966 when she ran into some troubles with the new management. Her personal connection to the roles she sang has never been matched except by maybe Maria Callas. Each role she decided to take on truly became a part of her and this shows in roles like Violetta in La Traviata, Cio-Cio San in Madama Butterfly (which she sang over 300 times), Mimi in La Bohème and most certainly here. It is made evident in her resplendant scenes with Otello in the first act. They live out on stage a passionate and (as Verdi intended it) very deeply human love affair, so human that we understand how these powerful emotions can cave in at the slightest quaver. While this libretto cuts most of the depth out of her character by eliminating the first part of the play and her entire backstory, she maintains a character of human complexity and unseen profundity that is entirely heard here in her emotional vocal colouring.

The real star of this disc though has to be the one and only Ramón Vinay. He debuted in 1938 as a baritone and then again debuted in 1943 as a tenor. In 1962 he returned back down to baritone and retired from the stage in 1969 at the age of 68. During his career he made the role of Otello his own (as all the great Otellos have done). On this recording he is in his vocal prime, a year after his most renowned performance of the role under Toscanini in 1947. He is said to have been the only singer to ever have performed both Otello and Iago in this opera. He opens strong with the 'Esultate!', probably the single hardest entry aria for any voice type in the repertoire (hardly a cavatina), and glides through the love duet with ease and caress. His second act with Iago is among the best on record. His gradual breakdown into insane jealousy brings the whole thing off the stage and it comes to life before your very eyes (or ears as the case may be). None of his acting is a pictoral presentation of the character but a living, breathing representation of a human being. As his mind slowly breaks down, so do the vocal colours he uses to communicate. On this recording one can hear him slowly disintegrate until his death in the (phenomenal) last scene. While his act two duet ("Si, pel ciel") with Warren may not be quite up to par with the unmatched, sheer viral energy of the Caruso/Ruffo recording, it's sufficiently effective as a catapult into the downward spiral of act three. His dark and robust tenor is exactly what I look for in an Otello, he may be near unsurpassed as Otello along with the trumpet-like creator of the role, Francesco Tamagno.

Fritz Busch, a very German conductor, leads the Met orchestra through what is really an all-together very Italiante reading of Verdi's Dramma lirico. He succeeds at keeping the dramatic intensity and energy throughout and provides an excellent groundwork for Albanese and Vinay to really make this work come to life. While I tend to like conductors more who lead the singers through their vision of the work at hand, his result is a very effective reading of this remarkable score.

The recording may not be as good all around as some others- Serafin's powerful set with Vickers, Rysanek and Gobbi comes to mind- but it is still an interesting set and the first ever telecast of the opera. While the performance on this disc as a whole doesn't tie up in a nice, tight package, the sheer energy and emotional connection documented in the last scene is worth every penny, and definitely worth a listen.

-Christopher Michael Kelley

RECORDING OF THE MONTH- December 2010: LE NOZZE DI FIGARO by MOZART

Well, it's 30. December. I almost missed this month - it's been that kind of holiday season.

To finish out 2010 I have decided to branch out and do a contemporary recording. (I DO like some of those too.)

My favorite "go-to" Nozze recordings are Böhm's 1968 set with Prey, Fischer-Dieskau, Mathis, Janowitz, and Troyanos and Giulini's 1959 recording with Wächter, Schwarzkopf, Moffo, Taddei, and Cossotto.

However, in 1991 a new benchmark was made. One that in the future will stand up against all. Karajan, Gui, and even Böhm and Giulini's.

James Levine, the operatic master of our time, put together a near perfect reading of this distinguished and revolutionary work.

the cast is as follows:

Il Conte di Almaviva - Thomas Hampson

La Contessa di Almaviva - Kiri Te Kanawa

Susannah - Dawn Upshaw

Figaro - Feruccio Furlanetto

Cherubino - Anne Sofie von Otter

Marcellina - Tatiana Troyanos

Bartolo - Paul Plishka

Barbarina - Heidi Grant (Murphy)

The Metropolitan Opera Orchesta and Chorus

This is an all star cast.

To start with, I love Ferruccio Furlanetto. However he is a huge drawback for me on this recording. He is simply not right. He is too much of a bass and this really isn't a "bass" role. Lower than the Count? Yes, but not a bass. Ferruccio could not sound like a young lover if he tried. That voice is like molasses, he was playing 65 year old men when he was 21. With that said, he really does have an excellent command of the character, and he is always an impeccable artist.

Thomas Hampson shines as Count Almaviva. He is in glorious voice and his outbursts adequately seem like temper tantrums. He isn't playing the count as a malicious wife-beater like so many. He is playing him like a young, spoiled nobleman who is completely lost. In the act two finale, he motivates the music which builds with his immense frustration. His aria opens with a charged recitativo accompagnato that explodes into his aria- the straw that brakes the count's back if you will. His attempts toward Susannah are sleazy, but not lecherous. He finds the perfect balance between the human character and the elegance of Mozart. By not being too much of a prick, his Contessa perdono really makes the listener hope for the glimmer of a happier future.

Dawn Upshaw glides through this role with grace and charm. She reminds us that Susannah used to be cast exclusively with Soubrettes. Not intended to be so intense as to be simply cunning, bright and delightful. Her lows sound as good as her highs and her angelic B-flat in the cadenza of Deh vieni, non tardar should become the stylistic standard for all who have the note comfortably. She portrays a sexy, sensuous young lady anticipating her marriage without turning it smutty or blatantly sexual.

The real winner of this disc may be dame Kiri Te Kanawa as la Contessa. She was very known for this role and it is clear why. She plays the dejected, heavyhearted young girl without too much despondency or dolefulness, but rather with just the right twinge of melancholy that discloses to the listener how her life has not turned out exactly as planned. Her lush lyric pianos and pianissimos soar gently over the madness of the plot line going on around her. In the act IV finale she bestows a God-like forgiveness upon her fickle yet somewhat contrite husband with a legato that is rarely heard in even Italian singers with so much elegance.

Von Otter (one of my absolute favorites) shines as always in this role of the hormonal page boy, Troyanos and Plishka, show their small mindedness and greed in a way that shows us why they are such renowned names in the world of opera and the young Heidi Grant is the perfect balance of youthful vigor and rebellion, however she could be slightly more sexual and manipulative for my taste.

Many of the comments I've made so far have mentioned "balance". This is what the 18th century mentality is all about and this is what MOZART is all about. James Levine demonstrates this philosophy beautifully. The real reason why I am less attracted to new recordings is that I think in our 21st century world, we have "overtrained" our musicians, and I think the Americans have turned music into a thinking industry instead of a feeling industry. The musicians of the past always speak to me more in the way they make you FEEL what they're feeling. This is the point. If music doesn't make the audience feel something, and the performers don't make the audience feel something, all music might as well be organized noise such as all the garbage you hear on the radio.

Even so, it is an extremely rare occasion that I disagree with something that James Levine does musically. If I hear a mystery opera on the radio and it is a contemporary recording and I agree with the tempi and feel of the reading, then I always assume it is Levine. Jimmy knows what was intended with every black dot in the score. Whether it be Mozart or Verdi or Tchaikovsky. His prowess in the operatic field has become benchmark of the way the world views American musicians.

While this recording is just about perfect, that is the real problem in my view. The recit is clear and flowing, and the numbers are consistent and developed. But it is almost too perfect. It doesn't have enough "life" for me. The Giulini and the Karajan and the Gui are alive. The stories are happening at that moment and the characters seem to develop before your very ears.

They may have flaws that are too big to ignore for some people, but they keep bringing me back. Even so, this Le Nozze di Figaro will not leave anybody unsatisfied. If you need a contemporary recording, this is it.

(I have heard good things about the 2004 Jacobs disc on Harmonia Mundi with Gens, Keenlyside, Ciofi, Regazzo and Kirchschlager as well, but have not had the pleasure of listening to it yet. But that is the subject of another blog.)

-Christopher Michael Kelley

RECORDING OF THE MONTH- November 2010: DICHTERLIEBE by SCHUMANN with Christian Gerhaher and Gerold Huber

I have, until now, focused entirely on operatic recordings on this blog. I will continue to focus primarily on full opera recordings. However, as Lieder holds a very special place in my heart, I think it is important to consider the diverse array of Lieder recordings as some of them (mainly the ones sung by "opera singers") can yield very little listening pleasure as they do not understand the genre that they are singing.

Lieder is not opera. If we try to sing it and/or interpret it like we do opera, it will always just be a little cheap imitation of opera. This is why we need to regard the art of song (German, French, British, American, Russian etc.) as a separate art form completely unrelated to that of opera.

An actor of the theatre would not dare to think that he can perform poetry reading in an acceptable way with no specific poetic training, because they recognize that it is not acting in the way that they perform in a play. Why do opera singers all think that they are naturally equipped to sing art song, just because they sing opera. We know that they are not because we see them perform and we cringe as they slaughter this delicate art form.

This recording is not one that makes anyone "cringe." If you want to know what Song is about... listen to this disc.

Schumann:

Dichterliebe

Der arme Peter - Die Löwenbraut - Belsazar

Lieder Op. 90

Christian Gerhaher, baritone

Gerold Huber, piano

RCA Red Seal

Christian Gerhaher was born in 1969 in the Lower Bavarian city of Straubing. He grew up playing the violin and after completing a diploma in medicine, he decided to become a singer and teamed up with the son of his childhood violin teacher, pianist Gerold Huber. Since their debut in 1998, they have worked together exclusively.

This recording of Heine & Schumann’s Dichterliebe (and other Schumann settings), was released in 2005. Alan Blyth of the Grammaphone, who passed away shortly thereafter, was perhaps one of the leading vocal authorities in Britain, so it was slightly alarming when he greeted the CD as the greatest Dichterliebe ever recorded by a baritone.

Gerhaher is often given credence as having participated in masterclasses with Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf and Inge Borkh, but I find that to be relatively obsolete and irrelevant. His credence in Lieder lies not in his training or references, but in his rare (but essential) ability to individualize words.

In Heine’s Hör’ ich das Liedchen klingen in Dichterliebe, the second stanza opens with “Es treibt mich ein dunkles Sehnen”. The word “dunkles” is entirely different than the opening phrase of Lenau’s Der schwere Abend of op. 90, “Die dunklen Wolken hingen”. Gerhaher is able to contextualize the poetry so well that it may as well be a different word. He finds the music that is built in the the sounds of the words. This is one of the many ways that the text of his pieces comes alive. It turns from a Lied on a page into a living breathing entity.

He interprets these texts with no gimmicks and with no generalizations. His voice is pure and emotive and he lets the text speak for itself, with the help of Schumann’s musical finesse. He understands the art of poetic text. “Singers often think of themselves as artists,” says Gerhaher, who believes many singers have a misconstrued view of their role as performers. “A singer is to a great degree a craftsman. The main artists are the composer and the poet,” remarks Gerhaher, who adds that honesty is what is most important for the singer. “You need to be honest with the work in order to succeed. Being honest means that you can’t totally understand what the works mean. You should nevertheless understand as much as you can. If you provide an overwhelming interpretation, you won’t convince the audience. The less you put of your personal life into the interpretation, the better the interpretation.”

This is seen nowhere better than the Dichterliebe. Heine’s bitterness and angst isn’t thrown in your face, but suggested through subtle tone colours and an overall emotional arc that mirrors the natural human condition. In Am leuchtenden Sommermorgen the voice lightens with a crystal clarity echoed from the piano that suggests the cycle’s first hints of forgiveness.

In Die Löwenbraut, he really displays the oddity of the song. He brings out an ecstasy in the middle section as the young girl reflects on the past almost taken out of time.

In Belsazar his voice shimmers from the basement to the attic. The arrogant King quickly becomes a haunted and almost repentant figure, and in Meine Rose, he glides through the beautiful melody that surpasses the status of duet between voice and piano, and merges into one delicate, sublime, interwoven musical Ausdruck.

No less to be acknowledged here is his partner in crime, Gerold Huber, his long term collaborator.

Huber’s musical touch is heard from the delicate and precise to the impassioned and aggressive. Skilled pianists aren’t hard to find, however, skilled collaborators are unfortunately a dying breed. If one still exists, Gerold Huber is it. He is fulfilling his role meticulously. One can hear in every strike of a key that he is not just playing Schumann, but he is interpreting a text as specifically as Gerhaher. In pieces like Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet, the gentle give and take is a dead giveaway into the working relationship between these two performers.

About his partner, Gerhaher says, “For us, working together is very, very easy. With new pieces, we can go immediately to the core.” Although he grants that working with other pianists might provide new sensations, Gerhaher would be unwilling to jeopardize the relationship. “Music works between us like a marriage. Just as I don’t betray my wife with other women, I don’t betray my pianist with other pianists.”

While this junge Bayer may over roll some of his Rs (amidst a few other minor departures from "Hochdeutsch"), his diction is impeccable. Not a sound nor a letter are ever missed.

While he is often compared to Fischer-Dieskau, and he considers it a great honor, he is no imitation, he is his own artist and approaches the text very differently from his legendary predecessor. If Gerhaher and Huber are a glimpse into the future of song... this art form has a bright and shining road ahead of it.

-Christopher Michael Kelley

RECORDING OF THE MONTH- October 2010: DIE ZAUBERFLÖTE by MOZART

Die Zauberflöte is among the most charming, fantastical, elegant and ingenious operas to ever grace the opera stage. Now that I have covered in my blog all 5 of the operatic big dogs (Strauss, Mozart, Verdi, Puccini, Wagner), I feel more free to write about any particular recordings that strike me at a given moment.

I have often stated that when asked of my "favourite" operas or composers... I couldn't include Mozart. His work has such a special place in my life that I tend to hold him up at a level above all the others. So when asked, I would give you a list of my favourite operas, and then a list of my favourite Mozart operas. His brilliance is something that just cannot be compared with any other; he is his own separate entity of art.

With that said, on days when I am feeling a little bit down or gloomy or despondent I tend to turn on the wonderfully quixotic Die Zauberflöte to bring my spirits up again, and it always seems to do the job. Beethoven himself regarded this opera more highly than even Don Giovanni. He felt The Magic Flute dealt more seriously with the ideal of love whereas Don Giovanni focused more on human weakness and hypocrisy.

This work, premiered in Vienna, 1791, has been very well documented on disc but for a very long time, I wasn't entirely satisfied with any recording I knew of. I had many good ones that I enjoyed. Namely:

The 1964 set Conducted by Böhm with:

Roberta Peters - die Königin der Nacht

Fritz Wunderlich - Tamino

Evelyn Lear - Pamina

Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau - Papageno

Franz Crass - Sarastro

The primary draw for me to this recording is Karl Böhm and his magnificent Mozart proclivity. Also, the one and only Fritz Wunderlich. He is, very arguably, the most perfect Tamino to ever grace the world of opera. He has the most quintessential German tenor voice in my book and the world of opera will never come out of mourning for losing this superb artist so young (1930-1966). He and Böhm alone are enough reason to buy this really, excellent set. On the other hand, Peters coloratura is too beautiful. I don't hear the shrill edge of evil in her voice that I think is needed to make a good Queen of the Night and while I adore Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau with all my heart and soul, Papageno is NOT his role. He does an admirable job but never sang it on stage. It's not a good fit. But for non-singers who are looking for simply the music that is being made, Böhm is never beaten and rarely equalled in Mozartean repertoire. His approach to this young, eccentric Austrian's music is impeccable. For any young conductors out there, if ye want a lesson in Mozart's tempi. Listen to Böhm's recordings they NEVER miss (Levine actually has pretty perfect tempi too).

I also very much like the Klemperer disc also from 1964 with:

Lucia Popp - die Königin der Nacht

Nicolai Gedda - Tamino

Gundula Janowitz - Pamina

Walter Berry - Papageno

Gottlob Frick - Sarastro

It is a wonderful cast and Klemperer's slightly slower, heavier tempos give the work a grandeur that plays very nicely. Popp's coloratura is somewhat sharp and shrill which works beautifully, Gedda's style is impeccable as always, Janowitz's tone is warm and sensitive and Berry is a wonderfully light-hearted Papageno. Possibly the best there ever was, who knows? The three ladies consist in part of Schwarzkopf and Ludwig, and Frick brings his Wagnarian roar to Sarastro to give him a sense of pomp and splendor. But this recording has ZERO dialogue. Another set which has cut the dialogue entirely is the otherwise beautiful, delicate 1950 set by Karajan.

Wilma Lipp - Königin der Nacht

Anton Dermota - Tamino

Irmgard Seefried - Pamina

Erich Kunz - Papageno

Ludwig Weber - Sarastro

Musically, this is definitely one of my personal favourite recordings. Similarly to Böhm, Karajan has a grasp on Mozart that is hardly ever matched. He is from the composer's hometown of Salzburg, and I believe there to be a cosmic connection between the two artists. Seefried glides though the opera with a silvery soprano that compliments Dermota's thicker, darker, flexible lyric tenor. Kunz is a great Papageno. Playing to his strengths of intellectually grounded comedy. To the occasional extent of being almost bubbly at times. But even with all that joviality, he maintains a somewhat dignified, entirely likable little bird catcher. Weber's lows make us wish the world still had true basses and Wilma Lipp negotiates the stratosphere with such effortlessness the listener forgets that it is among the most virtuosic roles in the repertoire. The young, budding Karajan gets the Wiener Philharmoniker to play with an eminence that they were NOT known for at that time. But again... NO DIALOGUE! Even in the face of these beautiful recordings, I continually find myself listening to another:

The 1959 recording live from the Salzburger Festspiele conducted by George Szell.

Erika Köth - die Königin der Nacht

Léopold Simoneau - Tamino

Lisa della Casa - Pamina

Walter Berry - Papageno

Kurt Böhme - Sarastro

Graziella Sciutti - Papagena

Karl Dönch - Monastatos

Hans Hotter - Sprecher

Frederike Sailer, Hetty Plümacher, Sieglinde Wagner - Ladies 1, 2, 3

Wiener Philharmoniker and Chor

Many recordings offer much better sound than this relatively low quality mono recording.

But the reason I turn to this one is simply the elegance of the approach and the gravitas of the subject matter. George Szell is certainly one of the most renowned conductor's of Mozart and while I don't necessarily love his interpretation as well as Böhm or Karajan's, he understands the piece inside and out. His swift, spry tempi and crisp articulation brings out the most refined of details and textures. While certain moments, like the act II Trio, "Soll ich dich teurer nicht mehr seh'n" can feel a bit rushed and almost frantic, he does know to stop and let the piece breath at times. The sensitivity he gives in Pamina's aria allows her phrasing to soar through her broad phrases. And even in his moments where one might disagree with his choices, under his baton is the Wiener Philharmoniker in their golden years to make up for it. They truly were one of the musical wonders of the world.

Erika Köth is not the most astounding Queen of the Night. She portrayed this role throughout Europe constantly, but her coloratura can get sloppy and unclear, her performance on this disc, can't rival those of Lucia Popp's or of the more recent Diana Damrau. However she manages to keep up with Szell's brisk tempi like a champ.

Kurt Böhme may lack some of the wanted power on his lows, but his admired acting abilities and musicianship make up for it. Not as good as Frick, but I really have few complaints. His textual elegance in the act I finale is delivered with wisdom and gentle fortitude.

Walter Berry is a fresh and unaffected Papageno. He is charming, delightful and much more youthful sounding than Erich Kunz (although another wonderful proponent of the role). His dialogue is marvelously comic and engaging. I couldn't ask for a better recorded Papageno.

He is joined at the end by Graziella Sciutti, the queen of soubrettes, as Papagena. She is beautiful, delightful, coquettish and funny with a very intelligent approach to every line and phrase. It is no wonder to anyone that she had the market cornered on just about every soubrette role at that time.

But on to the main attractions...

Léopold Simoneau may not be as quintessential as Wunderlich in the role, but he is a paragon of Mozartean style and elegance. While the French-Canadian tenor can't compete in the dialogue with a native German speaker, he soars through the score with a silver, ardent voice of pure classicism. With amazing taste he portrays Tamino as a heroic yet very young and human Prince, sophisticated enough for his love, sung by the one and only Lisa della Casa.

The Swiss, always exquisite soprano, Lisa della Casa, embodies a Pamina like no other. She is THE Pamina, as Wunderlich is THE Tamino. Her subtle acting and honest sincerity portray a character of total conviction. Her serious approach to this role, so often frowned upon by contemporary girls, sings with an appropriately forthright tone throughout. If my other arguments have not swayed you, this wonderfully luxurious soprano should. The innate beauty of her tone reminds our current generation of over-trained singers what singing opera is all about. In Mozart and Strauss, della Casa is unbeatable.

The performance is for all intent and purpose, complete in music and dialogue, and even with a poor sound quality, the performance is live, which gives the listener (even at home) and energy that you just cannot recreate in the studio. While I admit the reading is a bit "old school", from a time when they viewed the work as heavenly sublimity rather than earthly comedy, I think it is a set that any lover of Mozart should hear. Perhaps this shouldn't be your first or only recording of Die Zauberflöte, but definitely worth a listen. It is unlike all the others.

-Christopher Michael Kelley

RECORDING OF THE MONTH- September 2010: PARSIFAL by WAGNER

If a definitive recording of Wagner's final work exists... this is it.

Parsifal, based loosely on Wolfram von Eschenbach's 13th Century epic poem, Parzivâl, was conceived first around April of 1857 when he wrote the original prose sketch that is now lost. However it was not written on Good Friday, as was stated poetically by Wagner himself in the subsequent years. 25 years later, it was completed and in 1882, at the second Bayreuther Festspiele, it was produced for the first time.

The production was attached to an agreement with his patron, King Ludwig II of Bavaria, intended to pay off the deficit that was brought about by the first Bayreuth Festival. Because of that Wagner used many of the personnel from the München Hoftheater in performing the work. One of those is the Jewish conductor Hermann Levi who was the first to conduct this work. Just one more strike against those who try to convince us that Wagner was an "anti-semite."

Richard did not refer to this monumental last work as an "opera" at all, but as a Bühnenweihfestspiel or a Festival Play for the Consecration of the Stage. Some believe that this is an indication that his original intent was to consecrate the Bayreuth Festspielhaus with this work had it been finished earlier, some believe that it refers to this work consecrating the stage each time that it is performed. Whatever he intended with this title, it is clear that to Wagner (and Wagnerians everywhere), this is more than an opera. It surpasses the art of musical theatre and becomes a sacred experience, not entertainment. This is made exceedingly clear in the Bayreuth tradition of no applause at the conclusion of the first act (and minimal if any at the end of the second and third acts as well).

In my opinion, the only way to truly experience Parsifal is by seeing it at Bayreuth. That is where the work was conceived and for years (until the greedy Americans stepped in with a shrewd under the table move in 1903 by the Met) Bayreuth was the only house that was allowed to produce it.

Given the importance Wagner placed on this holy work, many fine recordings have come into fruition over the years. But one stands out as the benchmark. The recording I speak of is the Phillips 1962 live recording from the Bayreuther Festspiele

Parsifal - Jess Thomas

Amfortas - George London

Gurnemanz - Hans Hotter

Kundry - Irene Dalis

Klingsor - Gustav Neidlinger

Titurel - Martti Talvela

Conductor - Hans Knappertsbusch

with the Bayreuther Festspiele chorus and orchestra

This, similarly to my review of Strauss's Capriccio, is a near perfect work of recorded art. It rivals the greatest recordings of anything, and what's better is that it is a 100% live performance.

To start with, Hans Hotter is (in my opinion) the best Gurnemanz to grace the stage. The austere solemnity and wisdom that his character encompasses resonate clearly with every phrase. His victories as a Lieder singer allow him to maintain a sensuality and a sensitivity to text that is so prominent in Wagner's score and the breadth of his tone is widely unmatched in the 20th and 21st centuries.

Jess Thomas is singing the role of Parsifal and he may very well be the most beautiful voiced Heldentenor to ever sing the role. The intellect that he uses in his approach to the role is his greatest victory here. While his voice may lack the grandeur of Vickers or the power of James King, he makes up for it in pure inspiration.

Among the artists on the disc, my personal favorite may be George London, singing Amfortas just a few years before his untimely vocal retirement. His Amfortas captures a frightening impotence and a painfully direct anguish that is only enhanced by his unmatched depth and sheer vocal power.

If one must name a weak link of this document, that would have to be Irene Dalis's reading of Kundry. Vocally this role is among the most demanding in the entirety of the repertoire, it has the full low phrases of a dramatic mezzo, but soaring high notes of a soprano. While she does sing it well, she lacks a bit of the sensuousness that was so mastered by artists such as Dame Gwyneth Jones. But her character is nicely balanced and her weaknesses do not distract from her absolutely miraculous cast-mates. She fortunately manages to muster up the nice balance of seduction and demonic ferocity needed for the Act II curse, thereby purging herself of any shortfalls she had leading up to that point on the disc.

Knappertsbusch, who may be the conductor most closely associated with this work in the 20th century, could be at times relatively unpredictable in performance. Often magnificent, but occasionally verging on careless. But like his 1951 Götterdämmerung, here, he is magnificent. He takes a somewhat slower tempo, but with a virtually unparalleled control, he keeps the drama moving with a swift purpose. The gravitas in his baton remind the listener of the spiritual grandeur, human frailty and almost, at times, insufferable beauty of this final stage work of the operatic master.

For a truly pious and sacred operatic experience, the only recording truly worth turning to is this 1962 Bayreuth Festival Parsifal. If you don't like (or understand as it may be) Wagner, surely the gravity of this work will help to show you the light.

-Christopher Michael Kelley