It is generally agreed that classical singing reached its apogee during the age of bel canto. The style was new and current, and composers like Rossini, Donizetti, Bellini, Mercadante, Vaccai, Coccia, and Persiani were turning out operas as fast as they could to satisfy the public’s hunger to hear the likes of Pasta, Sontag, Tamburini, Grisi, Lablache, Duprez and Malibran in their latest hit shows. We’ve learned much of what we know about the quality of the singing in the primo ottocento by the demands these composers have written into the scores they created for the singers of that day. It is a tribute to the singers of today that so many have mastered the musical and dramatic demands of bel canto. Operas that were virtually uncastable in the ‘40s, ‘50s and ‘60s are performable now; multiple casts can even be assembled simultaneously in different cities.
The music of the first three composers named above is well known to us now as their masterpieces and even their marginal works are often performed. The last four composers were just as popular in their day as the first three, household names to those who followed opera. Today, however, we know Vaccai only because his vocal exercises are widely used; Mercadante, Coccia and Persiani are all but forgotten along with several others whose work was in wide circulation. Of these forgotten composers, Giovanni Persiani is perhaps the most neglected of all. His name lives today primarily because his wife Fanny Tacchinardi Persiani was a great singer with a long, successful career; she was the first Lucia di Lammermoor.
For the 1835 Carnival season at the Teatro San Carlo in Napoli, Persiani wrote the opera history judged to be his greatest: Ines de Castro. There was only one singer in the world who could have sung its title role, fiendishly difficult because it was tailored especially for the singular gifts of Maria Malibran. That year, la Malibran was at her zenith, the most famous, most admired operatic artist on earth. Even today, her legend towers above the other singers of the primo otticento, in part because it is so difficult to imagine how she sounded both in spite and because of the many contemporary descriptions of her voice and her use of it. Of all the great singers of the past, it is Malibran one wishes most to have heard; her talents were described as “wild” and “eccentric.” We know of her heart-wrenching pathos, her daring and spontaneity. We have been told that her voice was basically a mezzo soprano of what at least one contemporary critic called “less than first quality” over which she nevertheless had gained total mastery due to the fierce teaching of her father Manuel Garcia, who also taught her fluent improvisation and ornamentation. She had an upward extension that allowed her to sing the top E flat in performance and a downward, contralto extension of thrilling warmth. Her trills at the very bottom of the voice were described as “terrifying.” She drove audiences (and composers!) to frenzy.
Prior to the 1999 performances from which this recording was derived, Ines de Castro, the opera that Persiani wrote for Malibran, had not been given since 1851. At the time of its premier, Violinist Charles de Beriot, Malibran’s second husband and musical partner, wrote to a close friend, “Ines de Castro is an opera largely tailored for the effect of a big theatre. There is not one weak piece; there is in particular a scene with trio in the second act which brings tears to the eyes. It is at the moment when Ines embraces her sons, whom she will never see again. The role is one of the most beautiful in [Malibran’s] repertoire.” A distinguished composer himself, he should know. And he’s writing of a repertoire that included Norma, La Sonnambula, Maria Stuarda, La Cenerentola and Il barbiere de Siviglia. Well, there is no need to speculate further on the musical and dramatic merits of Ines de Castro; at last we can hear it for ourselves on this thrilling new recording. To begin with, De Beriot is right about that second act trio, a warmly generous melodic theme that carries much of the emotional and musical impact of the final scene of Bellini’s Norma. The entire opera is extremely accessible to anyone familiar with the conventions of bel canto, and yet Persiani had many aces up his sleeve that reveal a uniquely gifted composer who is not just following the successful flock. Far from it. The three rising, oddly modulating figures that open the Sinfonia signal a work of unusual construction and style, a work just a bit different from the other bel canto operas with which we are so familiar. For the title role, Persiani has written a part that throws into confusion our modern idea of Fach. Ines’ general tessitura is slightly lower than most soprano roles. There are extensions above the staff (to a D natural in the first act, then higher with each successive act) as well as telling plunges down into the depths of contralto territory. This role and its requirements makes me wish we could do away with our notions of Fach and simply sing the works as they suit our individual voices as they did in the good old days, rather than constantly trying to standardize an arbitrary, one-size-fits-some criteria. Inez has an entrance aria, a second act romanza, and a full-fledged mad scene in a cemetery as the finale. The fioratura, like the tessitura, gets more complex and bizarre as the work unfolds. Malibran had to be one heck of an accomplished singer to pull this off. Come to think of it, Maria Dragoni (a soprano who also sings Aida), in the present recording, is quite accomplished, too. She is completely successful, not only in simply getting her voice around all the notes of this part, but also by creating a beautiful, musical and emotional effect as well. She even makes it seem natural and almost easy.
The tenor role was written for Gilbert-Louis Duprez, who invented the “do di petto” — the high C from the chest that is the norm today. José Sempere handles the soaring line with its frequent upward zooms with musical aplomb and plenty of vocal glamour. The baritone role is more conventional, but Massimiliano Gagliardo’s performance is anything but. His warm, soft textured tone and supple musicality make sympathetic and human what could have been just another thwarted, disapproving operatic heavy. Lisa Houben’s rich soprano is a major asset as Bianca, the scorned princess who becomes forgiving when moved by Ines’ plight. Like the title role, Bianca’s sits in the mezzo range and this doesn’t bother Houben at all or prevent her artistry from making Bianca’s sudden compassion completely convincing. Enrique Mazzola’s expert conducting delineates the various complexities of this beautiful score with telling effect. For students of the bel canto age, this new recording is not to be missed. It reveals a work ripe for revival. I wish Eve Queler would consider giving it its first American performance.
—Freeman Günter
Bohème with Bocelli
Decca, a company famous for its great opera recordings, now sees fit to offer us a Bohème starring the pop singer Andrea Bocelli as Rodolfo. How the mighty have fallen! To be quick and blunt about it, this is not a recording to interest the operatically knowledgeable. For that reason, and because every other Bohème on the market is better, this will be a short review.
Let’s mention the good points first because, though they will not matter, there are some. The orchestra is excellent, as is Mehta’s conducting. The chorus is superb; rarely has the Café Momus scene been so accurate and frisky. Except for the tenor, the men are up to their roles and deserve praise. Eva Mei is an adequate Musetta.
I believe this is the recording debut of Barbara Frittoli, a soprano about whom I have read good things but who, alas, seems already in vocal decline, her singing marred throughout by a heavy vibrato that occasionally becomes an outright flap. Hers is a voice badly in need of rest and repair.
And now for Andrea Bocelli, the heavily miked pop singer with the pleasant crooner’s voice, he of the infinitely marketable “gimmick,” he of the ambitious delusion that he can become an opera singer. Let’s confront that fantasy directly: Andrea Bocelli will not become an opera singer because Andrea Bocelli cannot become an opera singer, and this recording is the proof. The whole story is told in the first three minutes of CD 1. The voice, small and thin, has neither the quality nor the training to make it an operatic instrument. When he sings above the middle register, the area in which he sounds his best, the listener is constantly aware of a sense of “reaching,” an uncomfortable stretching upward for the note. He rarely seems to be at the upper note, and when he is, one suspects innumerable retakes, or splicing, or some electronic trickery. His “Eureka” at the beginning of Act I is painful to hear, as is “come un gran signor” and “l’amor è un caminetto” — et cetera throughout the score. His weak and undeveloped upper register is also evident in his attempts at the eee sound. It is agonizing to hear Bocelli attempt the first syllable of “vivo” in “Che gelida manina.” There are countless further examples to cringe at, and by the end of the set, this reviewer’s throat actually ached in empathy.
This singer often appears to be in an acoustic separate from his colleagues: more forward and brighter. Still, in duets and concerted passages his inferiority is more than apparent.
All this does not mean that Bocelli lacks the style and feeling for Puccini, just that these qualities count for little without the proper instrument to present them. In short, if this recording is supposed to launch Andrea Bocelli on an operatic career, well, as they say on the Comedy Channel, “I…Don’t… Think…So!”
I must again express my surprise and disappointment that so illustrious a concern as Decca would resort to such a cynical endeavor. Other recording companies establish subsidiary labels for the release of material that might be, shall we say, embarrassing. Decca should have marketed this set under a “Faux Pas” label. —Howard Bushnell
Angela Gheorghiu: Verdi Heroines
With this disc, Angela Gheorghiu continues to carve out a vague artistic profile, and in doing so gives the impression of a not-too-shrewd self-judgment. She is hardly the sort of artist (yet) who can encompass some rather self-evident vocal shortcomings, and so this disc in the end comes across as a very presumptuous one — in fact it is possible here to finally narrow the Rumanian soprano down and define her properly.
Gheorghiu is an ambitious light lyric soprano pretending to be so many things she’s not. She doesn’t have the kind of fluid technique and sensibility necessary for bel canto, and not the weight of voice for most of the items on this disc, despite her hard work. More obviously, the microphone appears at times to be right in front of her, giving the voice little sense of space. In addition, it is easy to discern how the soprano tries to manipulate her voice — alas, in all the wrong ways — to achieve her desire to sound Verdian. The attempts are transparent. In “Tu che le vanita,” despite some good soft singing, she tries to plump out her pale (by Verdian standards) middle voice to fill out the composer’s instructions, “larga la frase,” but only succeeds in appearing plainly pushed and driven, most especially with the highest notes and climaxes being harsh. In addition, I can detect that she’s listened to Callas’s version of this piece, as the diction is identical in places. The phrase “La pace del avel” is the most blatant example. Her line (and foggy middle again) is insecure in “Tacea la notte placida,” tugging the phrases out of shape; the cabaletta — plus “Merce dilette amiche” — exposes her unfinished coloratura technique. The vibrato becomes insistent here, and she seems hounded, as if running down a hill with a big rock chasing her.
Typical of voices that are not allowed to settle, Gheorghiu’s instrument does not respond well under pressure. “Caro nome” should be ideal, but the line is not, and it seems rather high for her in places: her propensity for covering and “hooding” the tone in addition to bringing the chest voice up high, doesn’t bode well. “O patria mia” is successfully sung, with a beautiful, soft high C. But this is a lyrical piece to begin with and there is no chance that she could sing the role onstage. “Pace, pace mio Dio” is also fervently sung, and again the lyrical line finds her at comparative ease, plus she really socks out the final B flat excitingly; however, she could not drive her voice like that for very long. The role is clearly out (way out) of her Fach. By far the most successful piece on the disc is Desdemona’s long final scene. Here at last Gheorghiu is in her element, singing something that is comfortably within her grasp. Her singing is poised and imaginative, even touching at times.
In the end Gheorghiu by nature seems to me to have the same kind of voice as the young Mirella Freni. And Gheorghiu should not venture into the roles that von Karajan forced upon Freni. I hear Mimi (her complete recording with husband Alagna is excellent), Nanetta, Nedda, Susanna, Pamina, Ilia, Angelica maybe later, Tatyana, Liu maybe, Maria Boccanegra, Desdemona, perhaps more Violettas (but the first act may be problematic now), Marguerite, Juliette, Euridice, and others in that league. It is hard to predict how Gheorghiu will eventually turn out, given her rather aggressive careerism; her propensity for wanting it all right now, with major recordings in roles she has not yet sung, or sung infrequently, is not very encouraging. Her new recording of Massenet’s Manon, for example, doesn’t appear to be backed by much (if any) experience in the role, and most alarmingly, her top is getting “shorter” and increasingly less free.
This fitfully recommendable disc definitely does provide some moments of pleasure, as the Otello piece approaches the ideal. Gheorghiu has plenty to offer, and she could really be distinguished in a definable, specific repertoire at this stage. If the voice is allowed to settle and mature properly, then perhaps she can start taking the kind of risks that might actually work. In the right scheme of things, this disc could be said to have been recorded about 10 years too early. If she would concentrate on what she can excel at this juncture, then perhaps her career would develop at a more natural pace. She has everything going for her. The voice is one of quality, the imagination considerable, and she’s blessed with a stageworthy presence. But as usual I’m alarmed at the continuing “guppies pretending to be whales” (Sills’ terminology) syndrome exhibited here as everywhere else nowadays. Gheorghiu must either be receiving bad advice or she is completely clueless. —Niel Rishoi
