Renée Fleming is American opera’s star soprano, its golden girl; only the terminally jealous could deny her right to the crown. Her new Decca CD, self-titled (289 467 049-2), a calling card of the rest of the famous soprano arias that didn’t go on her previous recital disc, The Beautiful Voice, is chock full of reasons why she is the one to beat. In extremely popular arias by Puccini, Leoncavallo, Cilea, Catalani, Massenet, Bizet, Gounod, Verdi and Bellini she manifests not only her celebrated beautiful voice — surely, along with Hei-Kyung Hong’s, the finest, creamiest lyric soprano since Kiri Te Kanawa’s — but also a remarkably versatile command of diverse musical styles. Her “Casta Diva” is bel canto excellence itself, with a smooth scale and tonal beauty galore. For Puccini and the other Verists she has a stylistic address that is passionate and properly “morbid.” She can dig into these melodies with a beautifully blooming middle voice and give the effect of emotional intensity without ever actually losing her vocal poise, her healthy margin of safety. In spite of the faction that has its collective ear to the ground listening for vocal perdition, her voice sounds healthy as can be. With all the singing she does, if she were not doing something right she wouldn’t still have those free and easy top notes in alt. Just listen to the E at the end of the Vespri “Bolero!”
It cannot be easy to bring freshness to arias that every singer knows by heart, but she does this again and again in this collection. In Musetta’s “Quando me n’vo,” for example the note that she stresses is not the big B flat that everyone else leans on so heavily. Little shifts in the expected emphasis make this collection as refreshing and as surprising as it is absolutely gorgeous. Along with her remarkable American album, this new disc — and shall we just call it “The Wet Look Album?” — is Renée Fleming’s best recital recording to date.
—Freeman Günter
Naxos, that visionary record company, continues their exploration of historical performances. They began with issues of live performances — mostly unavailable in the US through normal retail channels because of the Met’s dog-in-the-manger attitude toward sales of their performances, even ones for which the copyright has long expired. Now Naxos is releasing famous studio sets as well. Of great importance, because it is the only thoroughly French performance of the work on disc, is Saint-Saëns Samson et Dalila (Naxos 8.110063-64). Although this set has been available on EMI at several times the low, low Naxos price, the legendary sound archivist Ward Marston has seen to it that this new edition sounds better than these recordings ever have before, even in their original 78rpm incarnation. Recorded in 1946, this was the first complete recording ever of Saint Saëns’ masterpiece. The classical singer can learn much about the elusive French style from the effortless authority of this performance by musical and linguistic natives.
The moment I heard Hélène Bouvier enter as Dalila, declaiming “Je vien célébrer la victoire” in a tart voice marinated in irony, I knew we were in for something pretty special. All mezzos pour their most lavish and seductive tones over this music, but Bouvier seeks to give us Dalila’s ambivalence — both the seductress and the scheming political power — and the stunning effect is that of a stage actor delivering a character’s duplicitous thoughts as an old-fashioned “aside.” You’ll hear less lingering over the lushness and more forward momentum in this performance. José Luccioni’s Samson — his compact, firm and focused voice and clarion tone and diction — is, likewise, a revelation to those used to today’s more wayward styles. (You can study this tenor’s work further in a generous sampling of French arias by other composers that fills out the second disc.) If you love this opera, don’t miss this Naxos re-issue.
—Freeman Günter
This new recording of Gaetano Donizetti’s La Favorite (RCA 74321-66229-2) is the second digital release of the original French version of Donizetti’s most famous French grand opera, a work which is one of that composer’s very best, and which contains an astonishing plethora of melodies. La Favorite (or La Favorita, as it is known in its Italian version) finds Donizetti at the very peak of his musical development; indeed, this opera provided much instruction for Giuseppe Verdi’s own musical education, as the listener can readily hear. To be quick and blunt, there is everything to praise and little to fault in RCA’s new offering; it is one every opera lover will want to own.
The compelling cast couples Vesselina Kasarova and Ramon Vargas, two of the most beautiful voices now before the public, as the tragic lovers. Vargas is Fernand, a novice at a Castilian monastery, circa 1340, and Kasarova is the gorgeous Lénor, who, as mistress of King Alphonse XI, is torn between ambition and love and destroyed by both. As in their recent Werther, also a set to own, these singers imaginatively color and shade their voices throughout a wide dynamic range, making the most of every musical and dramatic opportunity. Listen to Vargas as the opera opens, explaining to his Father Superior that he found himself praying at the side of “un femme inconnue,” an unknown woman so beautiful that she has shaken his faith, his very desire to become a monk. “How beautiful she was!” he sings with the voice suffused with delight and then desperation for “I implore God, hopelessly,” and finally, first tenderly then passionately, “…but I see only her.” Likewise, Kasarova, despite some muddled diction, makes much of the news of Fernand’s military victory with her quiet aside: “Glory for him! …Shame for me.” In her Act Three aria, “O mon Fernand,” she expresses her defeat, her impending ruin, in a nervous recitative “Did I understand?” followed by a heart-rending “O mon Fernand,” and then a blazing cabaletta: “My sentence comes from heaven…cursed and rejected, I will be dead before tonight.” From solid chest tones to a blazing high A, this is a confident, triumphant performance of thrilling dimensions. You will hit the “repeat” button!
All of the remaining roles are well cast, each singer working as part of a larger ensemble, all putting bel canto ahead of excessive dramatics, and with a minimum of grandstanding. All appear to have been cast not from the famous-name paradigm but for their ability to sound like the characters they portray. Abbie Furmansky, a singer new to me, displays an interesting voice in the role of Inès, a part that, though secondary, offers more opportunities than those of most confidante, or “che dice?” roles. Her voice is crystalline yet rich, distinctive and characterful, making her Inès a strong woman who understands the danger of her mistress’ situation.
Anthony Michaels-Moore, as King Alphonse, is magisterial yet human, even sympathetic, in a beautifully sung portrayal of the spurned monarch. His sarcastic line “the sacred scepter is becoming too heavy,” is memorable, as is his aria “Come Léonor, I forsake God, my people and my crown.”
Similarly, Carlo Colombara makes Balthazar, the Father Superior, a compassionate and fatherly figure, believable in every note of his extraordinarily beautiful bass voice.
The singers, as well as the drama, are well served in an exciting performance conducted by the admirable Marcello Viotti. This is splendid conducting, passionate, taut, stylistic, authoritative, and engaging from beginning to end. All recordings of bel canto should be so well conducted.
The sonics of this set are superb. Although the box states that this is a live recording, apparently accomplished in one performance in one day, there is no indication whatsoever that an audience is present. Rather, it combines the best qualities of a studio taping with the spontaneity and dramatic sweep of a live performance and is satisfying in every respect.
By cutting ten minutes from the ballet music, RCA has been able to fit the performance onto two CDs, whereas the other two available recordings must use three. Moreover, the company has designed sensible packaging that uses about one half the space usually required by a boxed opera set, a step every space-challenged operaphile will appreciate — and would have appreciated for the last fifteen years! For these reasons, as well as the superb performance, this new issue must take precedence (narrowly, for the other performances are excellent too) over the Decca La Favorita (Cossotto, Pavarotti, Bonynge) and the live La Favorite on the Ricordi label (Schalchi, Canonici, Renzetti). The latter, also in excellent sound, suffers (but only slightly) from Luca Canonici’s lighter voice, a bit of casting that makes the excellent Gloria Schalchi’s Léonor sound older than her lover. This should not prevent anyone from owning this equal-but-different set, however. As for the Decca La Favorita, the Italian version of the opera with a couple of musical additions from the French version, this reviewer is not going to wax horrific over the special absurdities of the Italian plot, a result of appeasing the Italian censors of the time. (I can’t think of any bel canto opera that has survived in the repertoire because of its libretto, and neither can you!) The performances on this set are terrific, more dramatic, even flamboyant, although the heavier voices and reverberant acoustic could easily lead one to believe they were hearing Verdi, who, as already mentioned, owes a lot to this opera and Donizetti in general. Those unfamiliar with this marvelous grand opera have an exciting discovery to make; those who do not know it will not hesitate to hear this new recording.
—Howard Bushnell
