BACH: "Ich Habe Genug"; BRAHMS: Lieder - Hans Hotter et al

Published...a few weeks ago.

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Album: BACH: Cantata No. 82 "Ich Habe Genug"; BRAHMS: Vier erste Ges änge; 12 Lieder

Artist(s): Hans Hotter, Anthony Bernard, Geraint Jones, Philharmonia Orchestra of London, Gerald Moore

Traditionally, the best trained, most powerful, and most beautiful voices have favored the opera house, with interpretation taking a backseat to impressive vocalism. In contrast, less talented singers tend to favor the art song, committing all sorts of vocal immoralities in the name of “artistry.” And then there are the “period performance” twits, who can do most any ugly, scratchy thing so long as the academics agree.

It is a supreme pleasure, then, when vocalism at the very highest level is combined with the emotive qualities of the art song or the formal structures of baroque and renaissance music. Such is the case here.

Hans Hotter possessed a dark, majestic, distinctly Germanic bass-baritone. His was the thunderous voice of gods and kings, perfectly suited to the great Wagner roles for which he was known. It is strange, then, to think of him in the humble religious trappings of Bach, or the intimate world of German lieder. Yet, he was perhaps one of the most insightful interpreters of the last century, known for performances of great sincerity and feeling.

The present album, recorded when the Hotter was in his prime, exemplifies his vocal and interpretive powers. Bach’s Ich Habe Genug, in which the Christian protagonist expresses his distaste towards life and longs for Jesus, is given perhaps its most affecting treatment on record. To hear an instrument of such majesty in Bach is simply wonderful, and Hotter captures the cantata’s essence from the very first aria—he colors his powerful voice with complete humility, like a great man crushed by his cares. His phrasing displays a sensitive use of rubato, maintaining legato and the integrity of the vocal line while making each phrase ache with weariness. Similarly, the second aria is very legato, with Hotter lightening and warming his voice to create a vision of heavenly rest. And he throws himself into the difficult runs of third aria most impressively, his wish for death stated with just the right balance of aggression and desperation.

Brahm’s biblical Four Serious Songs are just that—there are four of them and they are very, very serious, except for the last one which is actually kind of cheery in parts. The insightful, cynical commentary of the three texts is given appropriately funereal treatment, and Hotter thunders nicely when the words call for it. The fourth song—in which Paul exhorts the Corinthians to practice charity—is very warm and strikingly sincere throughout.

The 12 lieder rounding off the album are a little more of a mixed bag. Most listeners are used to ignoring the character deficiencies of individual timbres, but at times, the sentimental poetry sounds just a bit odd in the voice of Wotan. Still, each song is interpreted expertly, and there is much here to please even the most critical ear. Feldeinsamkeit dreamily draws out Brahms’ Elysium-like world without ever languishing. Sappische Ode is very sweet, very devoted, and very beautifully phrased. Ständchen displays Hotter at his lightest and most charming. And of course, the more dramatic songs fare very well, particularly Verrat, in which the protagonist’s bitter sarcasm may be felt keenly.

Hotter’s collaborators are a pleasure throughout, the Philharmonia Orchestra supporting with a nice feeling of pathos in the Bach and Gerald Moore delivering his typically perfect accompaniments in the Brahms. The recorded sound varies, a little grey and grainy in the cantata (which strangely adds to the mood), but fairly clear in the lieder.

The Bach alone is worth the price of admission on this album, and the Brahms is almost as good. Indispensable for fans of either composer, particularly if you feel starved for fine voices in this repertoire. It’s selling at mid price, too.

Recommended.

Rimsky-Korsakov: Scheherazade - Beecham/RPO

To be published...next week sometime.

Man, I am glad I did this one. I hadn't gone over all those recordings in a while.

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Album: RIMSKY-KORSAKOV: Scheherazade; BORODIN: Polotsvian Dances

Artist(s): Sir Thomas Beecham, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Beecham Choral Society

Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade is a wonderful, intoxicating piece of music. Standing as the composer’s most beloved composition, its picturesque Orientalism—realized through brilliant, inventive orchestration and an outpouring of exotic melody—lends itself perfectly to conductors’ varied styles. Listeners adore comparing performances—invariably, Reiner’s recording is extolled for its technical excellence, Stokowski’s for its mysticism, and Svetlanov’s for its 100% genuine Russian bombast.

Yet, even in such a crowded field, this present performance by Sir Thomas Beecham is perhaps the most universally admired recording of Scheherazade. In fact, it is so admired that even the colossal ego in Herbert von Karajan initially declined to record the work, remarking that Beecham’s interpretation could not be improved upon.

Frankly, the praise is bit overdone. This is not to say that this is a bad recording—by no means! Beecham was one of those conductors who could seemingly do no wrong, and there is certainly nothing wrong here, per se. But for comparison, let us draw upon one of Scheherazade’s very best performances—Ernest Ansermet’s lamentably rare 1954 recording with the Paris Conservatoire Orchestra.

Take the opening few bars. The Sultan’s theme roars out of the brass, and Scheherazade’s voice—symbolized by the haunting violin solo that unifies all four movements—responds, spinning the first of her tales, The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship. Beecham’s opening shows the maestro in classic form, smoothly propelling the metallic, ominous sound of the brass with a very musical and masculine snap. And his violinist is very good, depicting our heroine with seductive style. In contrast, Ansermet’s sultan is bit less forceful, a bit warmer and more balanced with the strings and reeds. His sultan has just a little more weight around the middle and strides in purposefully. Ansermet’s violinist plays swiftly, with considerable freedom and feeling—in his hands, Scheherazade’s’ feminine voice coyly convinces the sultan to pause and listen.

In the second movement, The Story of the Kalendar Prince, Beecham’s bassoon soloist is really very good, aptly injecting a bit of awkward character into his solo without sacrificing rhythm. The strings are very elegant. And the maestro’s same, classy, snappy phrasing works wonders in the faster parts of the music, particularly in all those wonderfully rousing orchestral strikes towards the end where his wide dynamic range really comes to bear. Clearly, Beecham has the superior orchestra and they play the pants off this music. Yet, Ansermet somehow makes his comparatively sloppy ensemble sound more appropriate—the fluttering, less precise winds are the voices of his characters, and the lighter, thinner strings are the dust and air they breathe. With them, he takes full advantage of Rimsky’s colorful and atmospheric orchestration, defining each melodic line with unerring clarity.

And these trends continue. In the third movement, The Young Prince and the Young Princess, Beecham is all elegance and charm, making a tasty “Beecham bon-bon” of this romance. And his clarinetist depicts a lovely princess indeed. But Ansermet’s is a lighter, sweeter, and more innocent pair of lovers—by comparison, Beecham has too little fairy tale and a bit too much Tchaikovsky. Is that such a bad thing? Well, no, actually it’s great, and no one could ever say that Beecham’s conception lacks character. But Ansermet’s storytelling is second to none.

The last movement, The Festival of Bagdad – The Sea – The ship goes to pieces on a Rock surmounted by a Bronze Warrior, with its mad dash to finish line and final moments of redemption, suits both conductors just fine. Beecham displays typical panache and energy, galloping through with a palpable sense of fun and arriving at a most sensuous conclusion. Here, his superior orchestra really does give him an edge. Still, Ansermet handles himself well, with the Baghdad festival coming off as quite a ragtag affair and the orchestra’s bright, blaring trumpet intruding in a wonderfully impetuous way.

In short, both recordings are excellent, but neither is the end-all performance. Beecham provides a vivid musical picture of a far away, exotic, spice-filled fantasy world. Ansermet provides a threadbare magic carpet and takes you there.

The “filler” of Borodin’s Polotsvian Dances are hard hitting and very exciting, demonstrating essentially the same qualities as Beecham’s Scheherazade but in music even better suited to them. The appearance of the Beecham Choral Society is a plus. The sound is typical 50’s—clear and very closely miked. The bass is a little weak, but not unacceptable.

Recommended, but don’t limit yourself to just this recording of Scheherazade. Get several different ones and argue over them. It’s fun!

Rating: A-

Verdi: Rigoletto

Written in Missouri, of all places. Under my own extreme duress.

Published in the October 21st issue of the Elmhurst College Leader.

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Album: Verdi: Rigoletto
Artist(s): Robert Merrill, Anna Moffo, Alfredo Kraus, Rosalind Elias, Ezio Flagella, David Ward, Georg Solti, RCA Italiana Opera Orchestra and Chorus


Rigoletto has had many excellent recordings over the years. In the beginning of the LP era, it was one of the first complete operas produced, with the incomparable Leonard Warren in the title role. When stereo emerged, each label dutifully churned out its own star-studded Rigoletto, featuring such luminaries as Ettore Bastianini, Carl Bergonzi, Joan Sutherland, and the like. And this trend has continued to the present. Rigoletto is one of the strongest warhorses of the recorded repertoire and will likely continue to be. Yet, surprisingly, in almost every recording of the opera, there is some obvious weak link.

Not so here. In Robert Merrill, we have the most glorious baritone voice of the postwar period—a dark and resonant instrument with ringing top notes and an unfailing sense of legato. Often criticized for ‘just singing’ and not adequately portraying his characters, Merrill’s performance here sweeps all such criticisms aside. His scenes with Gilda are tender, warm, and affectionate—entirely contrary to his nasty antics at the court of Mantua. Then witness his Cortigiani and Si, Vendetta, in which he unleashes his voice in righteous, paternal fury. And the moment when his daughter dies is crushing, not in the voice of a pathetic and deformed clown, but as a man overcome by grief in failing his greatest duty. To him, the hunchbacked jester is an almost noble character, twisted into viciousness by his infirmity. More than any other singer who has portrayed Rigoletto, he is utterly believable as a loving and vengeful father. It is truly his finest role.

Gilda is admirably cast as well. From a purely musical standpoint, Anna Moffo’s Gilda about as good as anyone could expect, with lovely, even tone from top to bottom, a seemingly perfect sense of phrasing, and not the slightest hint of vocal strain. Luckily, Gilda requires more musical skills than interpretive ones, though Ms. Moffo is not without some insight. Her Caro Nome is full of girlish longing. Similarly, her Tutte le Feste al tiempo tugs at one’s heart strings in just the right way—she is just so perfectly naïve and angelic, it seems nearly inevitable that someone will murder her.

Merrill’s Rigoletto and Moffo’s Gilda have few if any challengers, but the role of the Duke is another matter. Most every great tenor has taken a shot at the role, whether he was suited to it or not. Kraus succeeds admirably, though not without reservations. Frankly, his main weakness is that his reedy voice is not the equal of Pavarotti or Björling. But such comparisons are unfair—on his own terms, Kraus is a perfectly rakish Duke, full style, and may be summarized as an insightful study in shallowness. He is perhaps the most flippant Duke on record—in Ella mi fu Rapita, his ‘ardent’ longing for Gilda is expressed in almost irritated terms, like he’s lost a toy. La donna è Mobile is full of verve and swagger, clearly conveying the Duke’s irreverent attitude.

The chorus is handled very well, and the smaller parts are consistently well cast. Ezio Flagello’s Sparafucile is less illustrious than some (most notably Cesare Siepi), but serves very well, particularly in the final scene. David Ward is perhaps the best and most convincing Monterone on disc, in sonorous, commanding voice. And Rosalind Elias is very good indeed, injecting a great deal of character into the otherwise small role of Maddalena.

Solti’s conducting is very typical of the maestro. From beginning end, it’s loud, blaring hell on wheels, indulging in dynamic extremes and delivered with an orchestral sledgehammer. In Solti’s hands, Verdi’s claims of serving drama through music are well borne out. A lighter, more lyrical hand might be preferred in the opening party scene, but otherwise, it serves the taut drama of the opera perfectly.

RCA’s sonics are brain splitting. The balance between voices and orchestra is pleasingly theatre-like, so much that the performance sometimes sounds like an unusually good live recording.

In all, this is perhaps the most consistent and dramatic reading of Rigoletto ever committed to disc.

Highly recommended.

Rating: A

Guide and Recommendations for Chicago's Summer Music

This was published in a vile, butchered form on Tuesday. The complete version is presented here.

It's a little inane, but it would have served its purpose.

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Ravinia Festival

(Student Tickets!)

http://www.ravinia.org/

Ravinia is the oldest outdoor music festival in America, a fact they’re sure to mention on their website, in their literature, in their commercials, on their posters, and anywhere else they can slip it in. But their longevity is for a reason—Ravinia has consistently presented a veritable who’s-who of the music world in nearly every era of its existence. Since 1936, the festival has been the summer home of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, and these days, some would say that Ravinia maestro James Conlon is a finer hand than the orchestra’s own director.

Many wax eloquent about Ravinia’s tradition of elaborate lawn picnics, where concert goers lounge around on the grass and hear the music over a state-of-the-art sound system. Lawn seats are always $10, but if what you care about is the music, it’s recommended you get reserved at either of Ravinia’s two near-ideal main venues. The Martin Theatre is very small, with only 850 seats, but regulars will tell you its “feel” is even smaller. The pavilion is a grand, open air setting that takes advantage of the summer air while still providing a more standard concert experience.

Best of all, college students may present their student IDs at Ravinia’s ticket office on the night of performances to get one of two cut rates: free admission to the lawn or $10 reserved seats in either of the two venues.

Metra runs a “Ravinia Special” on concert days, and while the trains are sometimes crowded, this is still recommended. It even runs out of Ogilvie Transportation Center, which means you can hop a train out of Elmhurst and then go straight out to the festival.

Don Giovanni

(August 15^th – 7:00 PM, August 17^th – 2:00 PM)

Ravinia’s marketing this one hard, and with good reason—to hear Mozart’s masterpiece in the intimate 850-seat Martin Theatre is truly unique opportunity, and with a cast this excellent, the show promises to be stunning. Most prominent is Samuel Ramey, who—though a famous Don Giovanni himself—will be assuming the comic role of the Don’s servant, Leporello. As one of opera’s elder statesmen, any opportunity to hear Mr. Ramey is worth taking, and it seems likely that this will be one of our last occasions to hear the great lion roar. As the Don, we have Ildebrando D’Arcangelo, whose dark, gleaming bass-baritone is one of the most elegant and admired on the opera scene today. He’s also quite the handsome devil and very good actor—his Don promises to be a charming, masculine, and malevolent rake much in the tradition of the great Cesare Siepi. And the rest of the lineup is rife with luxury casting, standouts including Heidi Grant Murphy as Zerlina, Soila Ilkoski as Donna Elvira, and Morris Robinson as Il Commendatore.

But it doesn’t stop there. Our own, legendary Chicago Symphony Orchestra will be in the pit, something that only happens a few times every decade. The admired, 140-year-old Apollo Chorus will also be featured. And of course, veteran Maestro James Conlon will be on the podium, likely turning in a performance that will be far more than the sum of its many impressive parts.

Reserved theatre seats are pricey, set at $75. But if there is one show you should see this summer, this is it. Truly extraordinary by any standard.

Beaux Arts Trio

(August 18^th - 8:00 PM; August 19^th – 8PM)

The last 12 months have been a time for many farewells in the music world, but the loss of the Beaux Arts Trio will perhaps be the most lamentable. For over 50 years, this ensemble’s various incarnations have consistently set the standard for their type, turning in performances of remarkable technique, poetry, and power. As part of their farewell tour, this performance will literally be in their last month of existence, promising Beethoven’s B-flat major “Archduke” trio and Schubert’s E-flat major trio. Both works are among the masterpieces of the genre, and both composers are particular specialties of the ensemble—rarely has this music been played with such virile nobility as by these gentlemen. They are still likely the very best in the world, and this is the very last time we may hear them.

Like most Ravinia chamber music concerts, this program will be in the Martin Theatre. Reserved seats range from $30-$50.

Mahler’s Symphony of a Thousand

(July 26^th – 7:30 PM)

Gustav Mahler’s Symphony of a Thousand is rarely performed, and even more rarely performed well. The work is traditionally done with a staggering number of musicians—hence the name—and while you probably won’t see 1000 performers on the stage, the several hundred that will be involved should be more than adequate to knock your socks off. James Conlon is well known as a Mahler conductor and his relationship with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra is a consistently fruitful one. The orchestra itself is perfectly suited to a huge work like this, possessing not only the world’s greatest brass section, but perhaps the world’s largest and most powerful orchestral sound. And they too are known for their Mahler, a reputation which extends all the way back to the orchestra’s years under Fritz Reiner in the 50’s.

Included in the massive, combined forces of several choruses will also be the Chicago Symphony Chorus, which, like the orchestra, is considered one of the world’s very best and just happens to include some Elmhurst College faculty. The lineup of soloists is also very good, standouts including soprano Christine Brewer, soprano Heidi Grant Murphy, and bass John Relyea.

Reserved seats range from $30-$75.

An Evening of Beethoven (Budget Recommendation)

(July 30^th – 8:00 PM)

Ludwig van Beethoven and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra—need more be said? This promises to be a feast for the heroically inclined, with a program including both of Beethoven’s “Napoleonic” works: Symphony No. 3 (Eroica) and Piano Concerto No. 5 (Emperor). The ever-popular Fidelio Overture is also thrown in for good measure.

Sir Andrew Davis will be conducting and should lead the orchestra in fine, serviceable performances. But even more importantly, American pianist Leon Fleisher is slated to play the concerto. Mr. Fleisher is best known for his medical miracle story, in which botox injections restored the use of his right hand after 40 years of crippling focal dystonia. He’s around 80 now, but his playing is still remarkable, boasting a formidable technique and a broad palette of clear, singing colors. His now-legendary cycle of Beethoven piano concertos places him at the absolute forefront of interpreters in this repertoire—hearing him play should be something really special.

Best of all, this is a “Full House” concert, which means the usual range of ticket prices has been slashed to a flat $25 for all reserved seats.

Grant Park Music Festival

(It’s free!)

http://www.grantparkmusicfestival.com/

One of Chicago’s most admirable traditions, the Grant Park Music Festival has been providing free, high quality classical concerts every summer since 1935. In fact, it claims to be the only free, outdoor classical music festival in the country. But even if this weren’t the case, the festival offers something unique—where else can you hear music at this level with a Lake Michigan Breeze on your face and the sounds of evening traffic screaming in the distance? Best of all, Grant Park is right in the heart of downtown and lends itself perfectly to unplanned jaunts.

The resident Grant Park Orchestra is quite respectable and has been developing nicely for some years. Current music director Carlos Kalmar consistently programs an interesting mix of standard repertoire and weird, experimental fare, and this summer seems no exception.

It’s recommended you arrive early enough to sit in the fixed seats close to the stage, but if you decide to sit on the grass, the Pritzker Pavilion’s sound system offers a reasonable listening experience.

Grant Park’s pretty easy to get to—just find Michigan Avenue. There are four parking garages nearby, but if you prefer public transportation, both Metra and CTA should get you there fine.

Act I, Wagner’s Die Walküre

(August 13^th – 6:30 PM)

So, ever heard Wagner outdoors? Not likely. Even aside from the particular performers, the exceptional premise of this concert makes it worth attending. Act I of Die Walküre is considered by many to be the very highest point of the entire Ring cycle, having a long history of excellent performances outside of the complete opera. As such, it is the most logical vehicle for so welcome an experiment.

But it gets better—music director Carlos Kalmar has somehow pulled together a real top notch set of principals. Cavernous bass Kristinn Sigmundsson will take on the role of the villainous Hunding. As Sieglinde, Nancy Gustafson is the name Grant Park’s pushing for this show—and she’s an excellent singer, no doubt about it—but it’s Torsten Kerl as Siegmund that’s the interesting name here. Dedicated Wagnerians are wondering if he’ll grow into the next great heldentenor, and with good reason—his Germanic voice is focused, bright, youthful, and metallic, slightly reminiscent of our other contemporary almost-heldentenor, Ben Heppner. In fact, the famous Mr. Heppner’s voice is just a little less focused, and a little less “helden” by comparison. True judgment must of course be reserved until Mr. Kerl may be heard live, but what can be heard on his various recordings is downright exciting.

Definitely the most interesting of Grant Park’s concerts this summer and definitely worth your evening.

Pinchas Zukerman

(July 13^th – 7:30 PM)

Grant Park’s usual approach is to hire solid, respectable-but-not-famous musicians, but every once in a while they’ll feature someone well known. In this case, 2008 happens to be the 60^th anniversary of the founding of Israel, so they up and collaborated with the Jewish United Fund to get themselves a famous Jewish performer—violinist-conductor Pinchas Zukerman. Zukerman’s the sort of fellow who’s always being nominated for Grammy awards but rarely wins them—in other words, a very high level musician whose excellence is very much a matter of taste. Objectively speaking, he has a rich, full tone and possesses a respectably virtuosic technique. And earlier this year, he was the musician entrusted with the first-performance-in-70-years on the world’s most expensive violin, a $3.9 million Guarneri owned by Russian businessman Maxim Viktorov.

In any case, Mr. Zukerman is well worth hearing, both as violinist and conductor. The program will include Bach’s D-minor Concerto for Two Violins (where he will be joined by concertmaster Jeremy Black), Mendelssohn’s Italian Symphony, and Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Overture.

Bach-Stokowski: Famous Transcriptions

Published in the April 29th issue of the Elmhurst College Leader.

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Album: Bach: Famous Transcriptions—Leopold Stokowski
Artist(s): Leopold Stokowski, Symphony Orchestra

For many people, Leopold Stokowski will forever remain the superbly histrionic conductor-with-the-amusing-hair who shook hands with Mickey Mouse in Fantasia and was occasionally parodied by Bugs Bunny. Given such unquestionably excellent credentials, it may seem strange to learn that Stokowski has long been out of favor in musical circles, and is commonly regarded as something of a charlatan.

While there is some truth to this view (most easily demonstrated by the English-born conductor’s entirely contrived Slavic accent), it sells the maestro very short—little now is said of his seemingly unique ability to draw a lush, burnished tone from even lesser orchestras, so distinctive and evocatively rich that it was known as the “Stokowski sound.” Worse yet, we seem to have forgotten how he introduced an entire generation of listeners to “classical” music, both through his engaging showmanship and—most blessedly—his own orchestral transcriptions of J.S. Bach.

In our era of “historically informed performance”—manifest in shrill, scratchy interpretations and usually advanced by those of comparable temperament—Stokowski’s huge orchestral transcriptions may seem somewhat out of place. But the solidity of Bach’s musical structures and idiom is such that it can hold up to a variety of approaches. Witness, for example, the Jazz Sebastian Bach albums by the Swingle Singers, or the abominable Switched on Bach synthesizer albums of the 1960’s. In light of such examples, Stokowki’s Bach seems downright purist, but this comparison proves very little—to gauge music by its historical “correctness” (as defined by scholarship’s latest capricious whimsy) entirely misses the point of the art. Ultimately, all music is meant to stimulate the mind and emotions of the listener. Bach wrote great music which does both of these things, and the emotion in his essential idiom is perhaps most directly expressed by charlatan transcriptions, in which the grand gestures of romanticism and the intense precision of baroque forms combine to make music of a most affecting and engaging type.

With notable exception to the Air on a G String—in which Stokowski’s syrupy sonorities miss the lovely innocence of the original—most every transcription and its performance is nearly ideal. The opening C minor Passacaglia and Fugue is a superb example of Stokowski’s deep, organ-like sound, in which—to paraphrase the conductor’s own words—the towering, ‘gothic architecture’ of the original is painted in broad strokes of dramatic color. Komm, süβer Tod and Mein Jesu, was vor Seelenweh both display this same “cathedral” sound, along with an attractive gleam to the strings and an overwhelming sense of deep, emotional piety.

But what’s more striking is just how natural Bach can sound in these romantic trappings. Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott, from Bach’s cantata after the Lutheran hymn, uses a brass choir to great effect and is of a similar character to the Act I Prelude of Wagner’s Parsifal. And the “Little” G Minor Fugue—which initially uses a dialogue of reed voices to highlight the counterpoint—builds with an almost maniacal sense of inevitability, weighty without ever lagging, gradually adding orchestration until the fugal subject violently emerges in its final, crashing conclusion. This is music in an almost Beethoven-like spirit, in which the extreme development of material creates “operatic” drama where the “protagonist” finally prevails. In the case of this transcription, the “protagonist” is a maddeningly catchy little tune, and, apparently, a heaven storming villain with a talent for theatrics.

Other cuts display similarly theatrical qualities. The Toccata and Fugue in D minor—easily the best known of Stokowki’s Bach transcriptions—is very well done, well balanced between the drive and snap of his recordings with the Philadelphia Orchestra and his later, more indulgent efforts for Decca. The Bourée from English Suite No. 2 is both graceful and muscular, and Stokowski’s practice of alternating the wind and string sections is used quite nicely. It’s also worth noting that the anonymous “Symphony Orchestra” is consistently very good, sounding impressively mature for what was probably just a pick up group. But then, Stokowski could do that.

The recorded sound is very clear and full, yielding very little to more modern technology. The bonus DVD includes an atmospheric performance of Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, but frankly, it’s the blatant amount of previews for EMI’s other DVDs that make the extra disc worthwhile.

So, go ahead. Get the album, annoy your “historically informed” friends, and let the grand old wizard work his magic. It’s an utterly and supremely entertaining approach to music—there’s nothing quite like it.

Rating: A

Puccini: Tosca - Callas/Stefano/Gobbi/Sabata

To be published next week in the Elmhurst College Leader.

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Album: Puccini: Tosca
Artist(s): Maria Callas, Giuseppe Di Stefano, Tito Gobbi, Victor De Sabata, Orchestra e Coro del Teatro alla Scala, Milano

Music critics have long been fond of drolly referring to Tosca as a “shabby little shocker” and then misattributing the comment to George Bernard Shaw. No small wonder, then, that this Tosca has long been hailed as the “greatest” opera recording of the last century, even before such milestones as the Solti Ring and the Giulini Don Giovanni.

But are such superlatives justified? There have been many fine recordings of Tosca in the 50 years since this one, most with better recorded sound and many of them boasting excellent casts. Are they so clearly second-rate?

The truth is, it depends on how you think of opera. If perfect vocalism is your standard, this performance will not be a first choice. As adored singer Floria Tosca, Callas’ striking-but-not-beautiful voice is somewhat paradoxical, occasionally sacrificing legato for the sake of some dramatic effect or another. Similarly, Giuseppe Di Stefano’s golden, lyric tenor voice sounds hollow and pressed on top, most noticeably in the heroic Vittoria! of Act 2. And Gobbi’s voice is typically venomous, lacking any real heft or depth. Those seeking consistently beautiful, secure singing from beginning to end would do well to acquire the excellent sets of Tebaldi or Caballé, the latter featuring a young José Carreras in particularly fine voice.

Dramatically, however, this recording is likely unequalled, which is saying a lot in a story driven by murder, torture, attempted rape, and suicide. Callas plays Tosca as ideally as one could hope for—a hotheaded, passionate woman subject to conflicting fits of suspicion, vanity, vulnerability, white-hot anger, and the most deeply felt compassion. For example, her jealous outburst in Act 1, “Lo Neghi?” (“You deny it?), is just short of shrill and is most convincingly pissy. Conversely, Vissa d’arte is beautiful and perfectly paced—a masterful depiction of suffering, in which the cry to God at the end of the aria is a fearful but reverent plea for mercy. But perhaps most striking is the moment when Tosca stabs and then hisses at the dying Scarpia, “Muori! Muori! Muori!” (Die! Die! Die!), delivered so viciously you can almost see the blood on her hands.

Cavaradossi is always less important in this opera, but Giuseppe Di Stefano makes a good case for him. What Stefano’s Cavaradossi lacks in heroism he makes up for in beauty—with Stefano, we never forget that Cavaradossi is a lovesick artist. His two arias come off with great sentimentality and his Act III duet with Tosca, O dolci mani, displays some of the most ardent and beautiful singing ever recorded.

But Callas and Stefano are more than matched in the Baron Scarpia of Tito Gobbi. His trademark snarl is used to great effect, capable of both stentorian authority and warm, honeyed manipulation. This is the definitive Scarpia—a vile, slithering, sadistic animal in an aristocrat’s coat, who makes Darth Vader look kind of like a sissy. At the end of Act 1, Gobbi’s Te Deum is the most gripping in the catalogue, illustrating both his declamatory style and the thoughtfulness of his interpretation. To extract an example: Scarpia’s high note in the last phrase, “Tosca, mi fai dimenticare Iddio!” (“Tosca you make me forget God!), usually milked for melodrama, is here underplayed. Why? Because for Scarpia, this isn’t a fervent confession of evil; it’s just a statement, and it’s hardly a turning point for a villain so foul. In truth, Gobbi’s Scarpia sounds most fervent when he’s torturing Cavaradossi, where his gleeful snarling conveys the Baron’s sadism perfectly. But, almost as important, he also dies very well, shouting furiously and choking on his own blood in a pleasingly graphic way.

Victor De Sabata leads the orchestra in a reading of blistering, Italianate intensity. Every line of the score is sharply defined without ever sacrificing weight or visceral impact. Furthermore, everything is paced to create the most excruciating tension possible—when else has the orchestra so perfectly conveyed the desperation of Tosca’s confrontation with Scarpia? And when else has the ending of Tosca felt so physically, mercilessly traumatic? In Sabata’s hands, the orchestra does a most marvelous thing: it becomes another voice, telling the story as clearly as any one of the characters.

In all, this is a superb achievement that admirably lives up to its reputation. If you’ve never experienced opera as drama, this is the place to start.

Highly recommended.

Grade: A+

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NOTE: Be sure to get this 1997 Callas Edition (still in print and readily available), rather than one of the subsequent poor remasterings.

Tenors...

Stephen Costello, James Valenti, Piotr Beczala, and Michael Spyres.

The first three already have something of a reputation, but the last is no less talented.

Google them if you haven't heard the names. They will be the future...mark my words.

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EDIT: There's also much talk of this Stas Vitart fellow, but I need to hear him sing somewhere besides his living room before I can be sure.