As promised, the text of yesterday's New York Times article on critics'
favorite Verdi recordings.
January 26, 2001
Verdi, for One and All: The Critics' Favorite Recordings
By THE NEW YORK TIMES
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
Saturday, January 27 is the 100th anniversary of Verdi's death. It may seem
to come at an awkward time for record collectors. In another era, recordings
of Verdi operas might have streamed forth, regardless of the expense of
producing them. As it is, after the meltdown of the major classical labels,
collectors will probably have to settle for a complete opera here and there,
laced with more modest efforts like a new recording of the Verdi overtures
by Mr. La Selva with the Bern Symphony Orchestra on Newport Classic.
Then again, purists would find many singers today inadequate to certain
Verdi roles even if recordings were to be made. Operaphiles like to revel in
the past as well as the present, and there is no lack of recordings with
which to do so.
This year is the centennial of Verdi's death. Here are some favorite Verdi
recordings of the classical-music critics of The New York Times. CD's range
in price from $9 to $50. -- JAMES R. OESTREICH
Anthony Tommasini
"FALSTAFF." Tito Gobbi, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Luigi Alva, Anna Moffo, Nan
Merriman; Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus, conducted by Herbert von
Karajan (EMI Classics 67162; two CD's).
"AIDA." Leontyne Price, Jon Vickers, Rita Gorr, Robert Merrill; Rome Opera
Chorus and Orchestra, conducted by Georg Solti. Decca 417 416-2; three
CD's).
"OTELLO." Mario del Monaco, Renata Tebaldi, Aldo Protti; Vienna
Philharmonic, conducted by Herbert von Karajan (Decca 411 618-2; two CD's).
"DON CARLOS." Plácido Domingo, Montserrat Caballé, Shirley Verrett, Sherrill
Milnes, Ruggero Raimondi; Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden,
conducted by Carlo Maria Giulini (EMI Classics 67397; three CD's).
"IL TROVATORE." Maria Callas, Giuseppe di Stefano, Fedora Barbieri, Rolando
Panerai; La Scala Chorus and Orchestra, conducted by Herbert von Karajan
(EMI Classics 56333; two CD's.
My five favorite recordings of Verdi operas?
It would be hard enough to pick my five favorite recordings of "Falstaff."
Despite their sometimes convoluted plots, the Verdi operas are so musically
rich and psychologically penetrating that any number of highly personal
interpretive approaches can work. So the catalog is thick with recordings
that true Verdians consider essential.
Take "Falstaff." Verdi's miraculous final opera is a radical work. The score
is a thousand bits and pieces of melodies and motifs sewn together into a
gossamerlike fabric. It takes a supreme conductor to make the music seem of
a piece without revealing the stitches.
Right now, my favorite recording, Georg Solti's account from 1964 on Decca,
with Geraint Evans in the title role, is inexplicably unavailable. But
another classic recording has recently been reissued: Herbert von Karajan's
live, supple and poignant performance with Tito Gobbi in the title role and
Elisabeth Schwarzkopf as Alice Ford. Bernstein's brilliant account, if you
can find it, and Toscanini's, which is available, are also marvelous.
Leontyne Price was the great Verdi soprano of my youth, so I have a special
attachment to her. I remember the first time I heard her in "Aida." I sat
awe-struck in the stratosphere of the Metropolitan Opera as her pianissimo
high notes floated up and surrounded me with beauty. She recorded the role
twice, and many prefer the later account from 1970. I particularly treasure
the earlier one, recorded in 1962 for Decca, with the amazing Jon Vickers as
Radames, Rita Gorr as Amneris, Robert Merrill as Amonasro and Solti
conducting the forces of the Rome Opera.
"Otello" presents another impossible choice. I could not do without my
recordings of Mr. Vickers in the title role with Tullio Serafin conducting,
and Plácido Domingo under James Levine. But I choose the 1961 Decca
recording with Karajan conducting the Vienna Philharmonic, Mario Del Monaco
as a heroic-voiced and pitiable Otello, and the incomparable Renata Tebaldi
as Desdemona.
Carlo Maria Giulini presides over the company of Covent Garden in an utterly
inspired 1971 recording of the five-act Italian version of "Don Carlos," a
profoundly great opera. The cast is stunning, with Mr. Domingo as an ardent
and brash Don Carlos, and Sherrill Milnes as a volatile and virile Rodrigo.
Shirley Verrett, in blazing voice, is the best Eboli on disc. As Elisabetta,
Montserrat Caballé, though a bit cool, sings beautifully. Ruggero Raimondi
brings tragic dignity to the role of Filippo II.
There are some rewarding historic recordings of "Il Trovatore," like the
live 1939 Covent Garden performance with the young Jussi Bjoerling in the
title role. Ms. Price sings superbly in two complete recordings for RCA.
But I've always been especially affected by the noble Karajan performance
from La Scala in 1956. Maria Callas lacks Ms. Price's vocal elegance, but
her performance is compellingly sung and movingly vulnerable. Giuseppe di
Stefano is an excellent Manrico. Fedora Barbieri is an Azucena who
understands Verdian style yet sings chillingly.
I say, buy them all. What true Verdian would want only one "Trovatore?"
Allan Kozinn
"RIGOLETTO." Maria Callas, Tito Gobbi, Giuseppe di Stefano; La Scala Chorus
and Orchestra, conducted by Tullio Serafin (EMI Classics 56327; two CD's).
"FALSTAFF." Tito Gobbi, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Luigi Alva, Anna Moffo, Nan
Merriman; Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus, conducted by Herbert von
Karajan (EMI Classics 67162; two CD's).
REQUIEM. Joan Sutherland, Marilyn Horne, Luciano Pavarotti, Martti Talvela;
Vienna State Opera Chorus and Vienna Philharmonic, conducted by Georg Solti
(Decca 411 944-2; two CD's).
REQUIEM; "QUATTRO PEZZI SACRI." Luba Orgonasova, Anne Sofie von Otter, Luca
Canonici, Alastair Miles, Donna Brown; Monteverdi Choir and Orchestre
Révolutionnaire et Romantique, conducted by John Eliot Gardiner (Philips 442
142-2; two CD's).
Of all the composers who are by consensus regarded as great but whose music
I don't like, Verdi is the one I've made the greatest efforts to come to
terms with. I have taken courses that have required listening to all the
operas, I have read books on the man and his music, and I have logged
countless hours trying to be won over by this music that everyone else is so
taken with. Occasionally an article by a colleague presents one of the
operas so compellingly that I think I see the point, but when I hear the
work itself, it leaves me cold.
Yes, I hear the beautifully turned vocal and choral melodies, as well as
plenty that to my taste are unbearably dippy. I also hear an approach to
orchestration that is maddeningly simplistic compared with what one finds in
the operas of, say, Berlioz, Tchaikovsky and Massenet, to say nothing of
Wagner.
The Verdi operas I like best (that is, at all) are those that show an
awareness that the orchestra can do some nifty things beyond providing
on-the-beat (and out-of-the-way) accompaniments for star sopranos and
tenors. "Rigoletto" is a watershed in that regard: the thunderstorm in the
last act, for example, apart from being a nice bit of tone painting, becomes
inextricably entwined with the swirl of passions (both elevated and base)
that pervade the magnificently tense, tragic finale. The 1955 Callas- Gobbi
recording makes a strong case for the rest of the opera as well, and
although the packaging gives Callas all the attention, Gobbi's vivid, highly
charged rendering of the title role and di Stefano's lithe if showy Duke are
important attractions as well.
For the integration of orchestral and vocal writing, and for harmonic
adventurousness, little in the Verdi canon compares with his final opera,
"Falstaff." Its characters, from Shakespeare by way of Boito, are vividly
drawn, its drama is tight and its comic pacing is just about perfect. Here
is another superb Gobbi performance, abetted by a cast that is generally as
nimble and communicative as he is. This is a work that demands precision
ensemble singing, which this cast provides. And Karajan's handling of the
orchestra is a model of clarity.
The works of Verdi that I admire most, though, are not the operas but the
handful of sacred works, particularly the Requiem. Granted, the Requiem is
as operatic as church music gets, but Verdi rose to the occasion. In
different surroundings, the "Ingemisco" would be a tenor show-stopper; here
it is an entirely moving plea for divine mercy. And who can resist the cheap
thrills provided by those percussion thwacks at the start of the "Dies
Irae"?
I recommend two very different recordings. The 1968 Solti recording, besides
being broad-boned and powerful, captures Luciano Pavarotti, Joan Sutherland,
Marilyn Horne and Martti Talvela in their prime and is a joy to hear. John
Eliot Gardiner's, recorded in 1992, uses period instruments and guesses at
Verdi's balances and phrasing preferences. But scholarly overlay aside, it
is an electrifying performance, and the discs also include a ravishingly
sung traversal of the "Four Sacred Pieces."
Bernard Holland
"QUATTRO PEZZI SACRI." Swedish Radio Choir and Berlin Philharmonic,
conducted by Riccardo Muti (EMI Classics 47066).
REQUIEM. Carol Vaness, Florence Quivar, Dennis O'Neill, Carlo Colombara;
Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, conducted by Colin Davis (RCA
Victor 09026-60902- 2; two CD's).
"LA TRAVIATA." Victoria de los Angeles, Carlo del Monte, Mario Sereni; Rome
Opera House Chorus and Orchestra, conducted by Tullio Serafin (EMI Classics
73824; two CD's).
Verdi's operas will be covered elsewhere on this page. My continuing
fascination is with the "Four Sacred Pieces," two for choir alone, two for
singers and orchestra. The a cappella items, the "Ave Maria" and "Laudi Alla
Vergine," were written between the two late Shakespeare operas, "Otello" and
"Falstaff."
They are uncharacteristically quiet, almost disembodied. The "Stabat Mater"
and "Te Deum," the last of his compositions, represent Verdi at his most
generously dramatic. The contrasts among the four pieces are startling, but
we have posthumously put them together as a single work.
Verdi did not want his "Ave Maria" performed. Its musical basis, an
artificially constructed scale published in a music magazine, constituted a
technical experiment for the composer, not a public display. Yet the
weirdness of the intervals has inspired exotically beautiful chord sequences
and modulations, and it points up Verdi's supreme sense of balance in the
most uncharted of harmonic waters.
The recording by Riccardo Muti, the Berlin Philharmonic and the Swedish
Radio Choir is an amalgam of elegance and sheer passion. It realizes the
"Stabat Mater" and "Te Deum" as splendid operatic constructions, but it is
this brief and strangely evocative "Ave Maria" that captures and holds the
imagination.
Verdi's other operatic nonopera is, of course, the Requiem. I greatly admire
Colin Davis's command of an effusive, sometimes violent masterpiece. He has
recorded it with the Orchestra and Chorus of the Bavarian Radio.
I can't leave without indulging a taste for an ancient "Traviata" now
reissued on EMI. The 1959 sound is suspect, as is the Alfredo (Carlo del
Monte). It is for the stately conducting of Tullio Serafin, the fine Germont
of Mario Sereni but, most of all, for the angelic Violetta of Victoria de
los Angeles that one pays heed. The distinctive quick vibrato, the purity of
intonation and the spiritual vulnerability of the de los Angeles sound are
irresistible. The opera-recording collector who is having only one should
probably look elsewhere. I'm happy where I am.
James R. Oestreich
"LA TRAVIATA." Anna Moffo, Richard Tucker, Robert Merrill; Rome Opera House
Chorus and Orchestra, conducted by Fernando Previtali (RCA Victor
09026-68885-2; two CD's).
"OTELLO." Jon Vickers, Leonie Rysanek, Tito Gobbi; Rome Opera House Chorus
and Orchestra, conducted by Tullio Serafin (RCA Victor 09026-63180-2; two
CD's).
"MET STARS SING VERDI." Various artists (Met 237; three CD's).
REQUIEM. Joan Sutherland, Marilyn Horne, Luciano Pavarotti, Martti Talvela;
Vienna State Opera Chorus and Vienna Philharmonic, conducted by Georg Solti
(Decca 411 944-2; two CD's).
"QUATTRO PEZZI SACRI." Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, conducted by
Robert Shaw (Telarc CD-80254; with Stravinsky's "Symphony of Psalms").
Even at this late stage, I can't always tell to what extent I may be
overfond of a particular performance because it afforded my first exposure
to a composer or a work and to what extent I was merely fortunate in having
stumbled onto a truly excellent performance in the first place.
The RCA "Traviata," from 1960, provided my first complete experience of the
work (complete, that is, apart from small cuts that were then more or less
standard) and, indeed, of any Verdi opera. So I was delighted to return to
it on CD and find that it stood up well not only to the memories of many
early hearings but also to countless later encounters with the work.
Anna Moffo gives Violetta splendid vocalism and a youthful vivacity not yet
wasted by the character's disease. Robert Merrill conveys both pathos and
authority with imposing sonority. Of the leads, only Richard Tucker, despite
his shining tone, occasionally disappoints, with a stolid, stentorian
quality that weighs heavily on his young character, Alfredo. Fernando
Previtali paces the work cannily.
First impressions can fade away, however, as mine of James McCracken in
"Otello" did when I heard Jon Vickers's mighty, indispensable account of the
title role from 1960. Like many another, the recording is uneven, with
Leonie Rysanek less than fresh as Desdemona and with some feeble sounds from
the women's chorus. But Tito Gobbi is solid as Iago, and Tullio Serafin's
conducting is appropriately mercurial.
The Metropolitan Opera has issued invaluable historical compilations of
Verdi, including albums of "Un Ballo in Maschera" and "Otello" consisting of
piecemeal excerpts featuring noted Met performers through much of the 20th
century. "Met Stars Sing Verdi," released last year, presents excerpts from
17 operas and the Requiem in performances ranging from 1911 (Enrico Caruso
in "Ballo") to 1989 (Samuel Ramey in "Attila").
The Requiem selection is "Ingemisco," sung by Luciano Pavarotti in a 1987
recording conducted by Riccardo Muti. As distinctive as Mr. Pavarotti's
sound is there, I hark back to another first impression. My introduction to
his brilliant tone came in the Solti recording of the Requiem from 1968. It
is good to be reminded of that boundless promise after Mr. Pavarotti roundly
embarrassed himself in the work four years ago with Met forces at Carnegie
Hall.
The work of the other soloists, especially Joan Sutherland and Marilyn
Horne, is also excellent. And Georg Solti made the most of the blazing
orchestral and choral passages, achieving a power here that he would extend
to the point of caricature in his later years, with the Chicago Symphony.
This was a landmark recording on several counts, not least in the superb
sound captured by the production team led by John Culshaw (of Wagner "Ring"
fame with Solti).
If none of that (Mr. Pavarotti aside) is particularly Italianate, neither is
Robert Shaw's 1991 recording of the "Four Sacred Pieces." But Shaw commands
a certain respect in Verdi lore, from the days when he prepared the choruses
for classic accounts by Toscanini. And few conductors of any nationality can
rival the depth and clarity he achieves in these visionary pieces.
Anne Midgette
"LA TRAVIATA." Joan Sutherland, Luciano Pavarotti, Matteo Manuguerra; London
Opera Chorus and National Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Richard
Bonynge (Decca 30491; two CD's).
"SIMON BOCCANEGRA." Mirella Freni, Piero Cappuccilli, José Carreras, Nicolai
Ghiaurov, José van Dam; La Scala Chorus and Orchestra, conducted by Claudio
Abbado (Deutsche Grammophon 449 752-2, two CD's).
"FALSTAFF." Tito Gobbi, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Luigi Alva, Anna Moffo, Nan
Merriman; Philharmonia Orchestra and Chorus, conducted by Herbert von
Karajan (EMI Classics 67162; two CD's).
"IL TROVATORE." Zinka Milanov, Jussi Bjoerling, Fedora Barbieri, Leonard
Warren; Robert Shaw Chorale and RCA Victor Orchestra, conducted by Renato
Cellini (RCA Victor 6643-2-RG; two CD's).
"AIDA." Maria Callas, Mario del Monaco, Giuseppe Taddei, Oralia Dominguez;
Palacio de Bellas Artes Chorus and Orchestra, conducted by Oliviero di
Fabritiis (Opera d'Oro OPD-1250; two CD's).
What flesh was to Rubens, the voice was to Verdi: large, luxuriant,
abundant. Highlights of Verdi performance on record, therefore, would have
to include Rosa Ponselle's "Ernani, involami," Caruso's "Celeste Aida,"
Bergonzi's Ernani, Tebaldi's Elisabetta ("Don Carlo") and sundry specimens
from the two Prices, Leontyne and Margaret. But finding complete recordings
that do justice to Verdi's standards is a different matter, particularly
when so many classics are out of print.
The Sutherland-Pavarotti "Traviata" is textbook Verdi: safe, not always
exciting and a first-rate introduction. I can vouch for this because it was
my own introduction, and it still provokes a flash of the visceral
excitement that went with discovering Verdi, opera and those singers. For
all of Dame Joan's flawed Italian and Richard Bonynge's less than stellar
conducting, I'd still rather hear her, in her 50's, than just about anyone
else I've heard perform the role since, and Luciano Pavarotti is in great
voice.
The Abbado "Boccanegra" is a recording I long took for granted; but I
gradually realized that none of my sexy older recordings of the piece — with
Lawrence Tibbett or Tito Gobbi — could as consistently deliver on every one
of the opera's key points, from the glints of light on the shimmering sea in
the orchestral "Dawn" to Boccanegra's outburst in the Council Chamber scene.
There certainly isn't a weak link here, from Nicolai Ghiaurov and a young,
healthy José Carreras down to the luxurious casting of José van Dam as
Paolo; Mirella Freni and Piero Cappuccilli are radiant, even unequaled.
"Falstaff," Verdi's last opera, distills a lifetime of musical knowledge
into a kind of eau de vie, a clear, mood-elevating essence. In the Karajan
recording, the dramatic characterizations of the stellar cast start with
Karajan himself; you can clearly hear in the orchestra the chattering of the
wives, or Falstaff's self- satisfied swagger, before anyone opens his or her
mouth.
The last two sets, from the early 1950's, are all about voice. That Renato
Cellini is a wishy-washy conductor of "Il Trovatore" hardly matters when the
singing is this glorious: Zinka Milanov, limpid; Jussi Bjoerling, ringing;
Fedora Barbieri, fiery and chesty; and Leonard Warren, the sweetest,
gentlest Count di Luna on record, someone a woman could really fall for.
The Mexico City "Aida" is not for audiophiles or the fainthearted: it is one
of those awful crackly pirate recordings that pick up the prompter as well
as the singers. But it captures the glories of the young Callas (of whom
Milanov once said, "She's so wonderful, this girl, she sounds like a young
me") and Mario del Monaco before their commercial recordings, with Giuseppe
Taddei and the underrated Mexican mezzo-soprano Oralia Dominguez rounding
out the pack. Cooler heads might label it — specifically del Monaco's
performance — an example of vocal excess. But I would argue that this
thrilling live performance captures an important aspect of the Verdian
spirit, and that excess, too, is part of the package.
Paul Griffiths
REQUIEM; "QUATTRO PEZZI SACRI." Herva Nelli, Fedora Barbieri, Giuseppe di
Stefano, Cesare Siepi; Robert Shaw Chorale and NBC Symphony Orchestra,
conducted by Arturo Toscanini (RCA Victor 09026-60326- 2; two CD's).
REQUIEM; "QUATTRO PEZZI SACRI." Luba Orgonasova, Anne Sofie von Otter, Luca
Canonici, Alastair Miles, Donna Brown; Monteverdi Choir and Orchestre
Révolutionnaire et Romantique, conducted by John Eliot Gardiner (Philips 442
142-2; two CD's).
ARIAS. Maria Callas, soprano; Philharmonia Orchestra, conducted by Nicola
Rescigno (EMI Classics 66460).
Well into his 80's Verdi was surely listening to no music other than that
reverberating inside his head. And yet his "Te Deum," in its exploratory
harmony, fully belongs with what was being written at the same time — the
late 1890's — by composers who were two generations younger and from distant
musical cultures: Richard Strauss, Schoenberg and Debussy. As in Debussy,
familiar chords play on the notes of the old church modes. As in Strauss and
Schoenberg, there is a strong push toward dissonance.
In another of these late choral pieces, the "Ave Maria" on what he called
the "enigmatic scale," Verdi's harmonies still sound wild, and nearly a
century later, Luigi Nono took them up in some of his late music.
It is the "Te Deum," though, that allies musical venturesomeness with the
most extraordinary expressive effects. The text is a hymn of praise, and
most composers have duly set it as an affirmation. Verdi's version, too, has
magnificent passages where the chorus is in full sail, blown by acclamations
from the brass instruments, or where the voices swing like a great bell.
But it also has places where the harmonic foundation is uncertain, or
slipping — notably near the end, where the line "O Lord, in thee have I
trusted: let me never be confounded" is brought forward with imposing
splendor, only to disintegrate as the bass slides and the harmony becomes
confused. The negative is forgotten. Confounding is what happens. And the
music looks forward into a century of doubt.
Toscanini's recording, from midway through that century, has terrific fire
and presence. But the greater textural clarity of John Eliot Gardiner's
account from a few years ago brings out the harmonic strangeness more.
In both cases the "Te Deum" is coupled with the Requiem, the work in which
Verdi found his most consistently powerful libretto. The 1951 NBC Toscanini
version is a classic. Sir John implicitly questions Toscanini as the voice
of tradition, pointing out that in its first half-century the Requiem was
little played. But his performance is not so far from Toscanini's in its
speeds — just a shade slower — or in its drama.
Luba Orgonasova is a gorgeous soprano soloist. Anne Sofie von Otter goes her
own way in the mezzo- soprano role, less the vengeful princess than the cold
angel in the "Liber Scriptus" and blending magically with Ms. Orgonasova in
the "Recordare." Luca Canonici is an appealing but slightly weak tenor
soloist. Alastair Miles is the superb, feeling bass. There is good work,
too, from the Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique, not least its juicy
bassoons.
For sound, and a touch of ironic theatrical extravagance, Sir John is
pre-eminent. But for sheer thrill, Toscanini remains apart.
So does Maria Callas. In her first collection of Verdi arias, from 1958, her
ferocity of utterance goes along with majestic phrasing and command of
ornament, especially in her portraits of Lady Macbeth and "Tu che le vanitŕ"
from "Don Carlo."
|
|  |
