11 Jun 2007
VIVALDI: Arie per basso
In 2001 the recording company Naïve and the Istituto per beni musicali in Piemonte began a large-scale undertaking of recording the vast holdings of Vivaldi’s musical library.
The Gran Teatre del Liceu in Barcelona, after suffering a calamitous fire in the early 1990s, reopened in 1999, lovingly restored. TDK has released a series of DVDs from the Liceu since that date, providing ample evidence of the world...
Premiered posthumously, the symphonic song-cycle Das Lied von der Erde by Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) remains one of his defining works because of its synthesis of song and symphony, two genres he pursued throughout his career.
In 1851 during his first season as music director in Düsseldorf, Robert Schumann presented a performance of Bach’s St. John Passion, and unsurprisingly adapted the score both to nineteenth-century taste and nineteenth-century practicalities.
The centrality of dance at the French court helped bring grace, order, and political allegory into the characteristic prominence they enjoyed during the reigns of Louis XIV and Louis XV; theatre presentations of all stripes were infused with choreographic diversions.
In tandem with the recently released set of Sir Simon Rattle’s recordings of Mahler’s symphonies on EMI Classics, the set of the complete symphonies by Jean Sibelius merits attention.
As much as Richard Wagner espoused opera reform in his theoretical writings by bringing to his works for the stage a closer unity between music and text, his actual means of doing so at times involved the use of orchestral forces that sometimes overwhelmed the sung word.
The budget label Gala purveys live performances both historic and relatively recent; of the three discussed here, the La Scala Fedora dates back to 1931, while the Attila comes from a 1987 La Fenice performance.
National styles of music in the seventeenth century were often distinctive, and in the case of French and Italian music, famously so.
With its recent release of Mahler’s symphonies conducted by Sir Simon Rattle, EMI Classics makes available in a single place an outstanding contribution to the composer’s discography.
This DVD records and commemorates a 1981 production of Parsifal in its Bayreuth lair, and the singers of 1981 are as fine as recollection might paint them.
Once the custom of the world's opera houses was to translate great operas into the language of each respective country.
Repackaging older recordings having become the primary focus of a classical recording company's business, Deutsche Grammophon budgeted some funds for art direction for its budget series called "Opera House" (although that appellation only appears in a link found on the back inside cover of the sets' booklets).
Of Rosenkavaliers on DVD, the classics tend to be lovingly detailed productions, going back to the film of Herbert von Karajan leading an exemplary cast, with Elizabeth Schwarzkopf's iconic Marschallin.
Despite an unsurprising degree of conservatism in liturgical music, devotional life in Rome often found ways of taking advantage of modern musical style.
“Her fioritura is priceless, breathtaking, and effortless.”
The English composer Nicholas Maw has been a major voice since the 1960's, with a wide range of works that include the 2002 opera, "Sophie’s Choice," a violin concerto for Joshua Bell (1993), and the monumentally-scaled orchestral work, "Odyssey" (1972-87).
As is often the case, last works that remain incomplete at the time of a composer’s death, are quick to invoke controversy and conspiracy theories.
This is a valuable new recording of a work that is only rarely heard, but was widely influential and wildly popular during the eighteenth century. Philosophe Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote both the libretto and the music, with mixed success.
This disc is well worth the price for the first track alone: the opening measures of Jean-Féry Rebel’s “Cahos,” (Chaos), written in 1737 or 1738, may cause you to wonder if you accidentally left a Stockhausen or Ligeti disc in the changer.
This recording made half a century ago will not be anyone’s first choice unless one is a die-hard fan of one of the principal singers; neither of them belonging to the absolute top in their profession.
In 2001 the recording company Naïve and the Istituto per beni musicali in Piemonte began a large-scale undertaking of recording the vast holdings of Vivaldi’s musical library.
A number of the volumes feature the remarkable Concerto Italiano under the direction of Rinaldo Alessandrini, an ensemble whose rhythmic vitality and stylized energy make “Vivaldi” a language that they speak with compelling fluency. In this present recording they are joined by bass Lorenzo Regazzo in a program of opera arias from Armida al campo d’Egitto, Tito Manilo, Orlando furioso, Semiramide, Il Farnace, La Silvia, L’Adelaide, and L’Olimpiade. Regazzo has a wonderfully rich sound, large and powerful, timbrally rewarding, and he wields this sound with an agile articulation and flexibility admirably suited to early eighteenth-century style. His musical, expressive, and emotional ranges are well developed, and given the demands of the program, exercised to full extent.
Some of the arias present Vivaldi in a familiar allegro garb, with rollicking sequences and melismatic acrobatics, such as the reconstructed “ Terribile è lo scempio” from the pastoral drama, La Silvia. The aria “Fiume che torbido” from the same work adds programmatic evocations of a turbulent river, reminding that the composer’s pictorial abilities are found beyond the bounds of the well-known Four Seasons, as well. And while the battle aria “Se il cor guerriero” from Tito Manilo is conventional in its martial rhythms, its harmonic deployment of dissonance makes it a strikingly “modern” stile concitato.
Less conventional and familiar are the mad scene from Orlando furioso and the chilling aria of paternal regret from Il Farnace, “Gelido in ogni vena.” In the former, Vivaldi moves his delusional Orlando between astonishment, rage, and bitter regret in a landscape whose fragmentation bespeaks knightly irrationality. And in “Gelido,” throbbing dissonance and lachrymal descents combine to render the reflections of the filiocidal Farnace haunting and eerie. In both instances we get more than a glimpse of Vivaldi’s dramatic flair—a flair going beyond convention--and a flair to which Regazzo proves engagingly responsive.
Arie per basso is a splendid performance of music that gives due attention both to the toe-tapping familiar Vivaldi and the less well-known, darker and dramatic side of the composer. If the complete series can be maintained at this high level, it will be an impressive achievement, indeed.
Steven Plank