IN: News & Features

Holiday Opera CD Suggestions


Paesiello’s La grotta di Trofonio, from 2016 Valle d’Itria Festival

This past year an unusually large number of fascinating and rarely performed operas have been released, mostly for the first time ever, on CD.

With the holiday season in view, BMInt has asked me to share some of my delighted discoveries from this flood of new arrivals, as well as my (rather lengthy and detailed!) reviews of two contrasting operas that seem to me particularly worthy of discovery:

  • Vincenzo Bellini’s Adelson e Salvini (1824), with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Daniele Rustioni
  •  John Joubert’s Jane Eyre (1987-97, revised 2016), with the English Symphony Orchestra

I’d like to start by commenting on 14 forgotten operas that have now become easy to get to know, and end with those two extended reviews. Trigger warning- this is a very long feature.

The most exciting recent development in recorded opera, for me, is Opéra français, a series of CD recordings of little-known late eighteenth- and nineteenth-century French-language operas, mostly (though not all) by French-born composers. Opéra Français is a product of the Center for French Romantic Music, which is located in the Palazzetto Bru Zane in Naples (Italy). The Center has, in previous years, brought forth first-rate recordings of operas by well-known composers (e.g., Johann Christian Bach, Gounod, and two works by Massenet) and by near-forgotten ones (Victorin Joncières). Perhaps the most unexpected success in the series was the superb recording of Herculanum (1859), a grand opera by Félicien David that held the Paris stage for a decade, then vanished until the Opéra français series recorded it in 2014 and released it a year later, to widespread acclaim. (I wrote a long review of it myself, including in it some links to online excerpts.) A well-cast and imaginatively directed stage production quickly followed, in Fall 2016, at Wexford (Ireland) Festival Opera. (I was asked to provide a program-book essay for the Wexford performances; one can read it by clicking HERE.)

This year, the Center has matched its Herculanum highpoint and perhaps surpassed it with four releases: La Jacquerie, by Edouard Lalo and Arthur Coquard (1895; Lalo completed only the stirring Act 1 before his death), Hérold’s superb opéra-comique Le pré aux clercs (1832; once a favorite of French and German audiences), Étienne-Nicholas Méhul’s Uthal (1806; based on famous poems that were supposedly written in ancient Gaelic by Ossian, Son of Fingal), and Saint-Saëns’s Proserpine (1887; a stylistically alert evocation of shenanigans among the wealthy during the Italian Renaissance). The recordings are all made in the studio or recorded at an “in concert” performance and feature such major performers as soprano Véronique Gens and tenor Michael Spyres. Each recording comes with a small book packed with essays, primary documents, and a libretto, all in French and English. The recordings are issued directly by the Palazzetto, but are often described in the press and on commercial websites (confusingly) as coming from Ediciones Singulares, which is simply the firm that prints up the accompanying book. In any case, once one knows the name of composer and work, one can usually locate the item easily online, thanks to Boolean searching.

Other venues and organizations have brought us some Italian operas that are equally vital and, again, are ones that most of us wouldn’t have known otherwise. The Valle d’Itria Festival (in Martina Franca, Italy) mounted Medea in Corinto by Donizetti’s main composition teacher, G. S. Mayr (1813), plus two superb comic operas: Giovanni Paisiello’s La grotta di Trofonio (1785) and Nicola de Giosa’s Don Checco (1850). The De Giosa work uses spoken dialogue rather than recitatives, a very unusual feature in Italy that makes the work feel instantly familiar to lovers of Gilbert and Sullivan or Broadway musicals. (All three operas are on the Dynamic label.)

The Rossini Festival in Wildbad (Germany) mounted productions of two spiffy serious operas from Rossini’s most productive and inventive years: Adelaide di Borgogna (1817) and Sigismondo (1814), and both got released on the Naxos label, as did a studio recording of an opera by G. S. Mayr that is much earlier his Medea and therefore more Haydnesque in basic style: Telemaco nell’isola di Calipso (1797).

The opera company in Graz (Austria), in conjunction with the Oehms CD firm, brought us a long-awaited second recording (the first one had its problems) of the first version of Bohuslav Martinů’s The Greek Passion (1954-57), a colorful and dramatic work based on a novel by Nikos Kazantzakis, author of the famous book from which the film Zorba the Greek derived. The Greek Passion deals with profound and still-timely questions about refugees and the lands that reject them. It was commissioned in the 1950s for the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, but was then, to the composer’s dismay, rejected. Martinů reworked The Greek Passion substantially, and the second version has been ably recorded (under Charles Mackerras), but the original version (for London) is more vital and inventive, as the new recording reveals.

Europe’s radio-station vaults continue to reveal their treasures. One of these is Ralph Vaughan Williams’s Sir John in Love, based—like Verdi’s Falstaff—on Shakespeare’s The Merry Wives of Windsor. There have been two studio recordings in fine stereophonic sound, but both are, in some ways, put in the shade by a monophonic but well-miked radio broadcast from the BBC studios in 1956, featuring the baritone Roderick Jones in the title role (which he had sung in the first professional production, ten years earlier). April Cantelo, with her voice alone, makes Anne Page sound savvy and much sexier than Nanetta, the equivalent character in Falstaff.

Another vault-treasure—this one from the Czech Radio studios in Communist-controlled Prague, 1954—is an alternately amusing and philosophical fairy-tale opera by the noted composer-conductor Otakar Ostrčil: Honzovo království (Jack’s Kingdom), about the Devil’s attempt at creating havoc on earth by striking a deal with three brothers, one of whom (the Jack—or Johnny—of the title) turns out not to be the malleable dolt that the Devil thought.

*   *   *

And now to two other fascinating and little-known operas, in more detail: one by a composer of works that millions of opera lovers adore, Vincenzo Bellini; the other by John Joubert, a composer from South Africa who made his long and successful career in England, where he still lives. Joubert is best known for his church music. But this recording may put him on the map of opera-house directors in English-speaking lands and beyond.

Bellini: Adelson e Salvini (1824)

Simone Alberghini (Lord Adelson), Nelly (Daniela Barcellona), Enea Scala (Salvini), Maurizio Muraro (Bonifacio), Rodion Pogossov (Colonel Struley), David Soar (Geronio), Kathryn Rudge (Fanny), Leah-Marion Jones (Madama Rivers, BBC Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Daniele Rustioni, Opera Rara ORC56 [2 CDs] 154 minutes

There were two big discoveries in this CD recording of Bellini’s first opera, at least for me: the opera itself (here receiving its first fully adequate recording), and Enea Scala, a splendid, heroic high tenor who can perform the extensive coloratura fluently.

Adelson e Salvini is surely one of the best operas written by a composer who was a mere 23 years old. (Mozart was slightly older, 24, when he wrote the amazing Idomeneo and all of 26 for Die Entführung aus dem Serail. Handel got an even earlier start than either Mozart or Bellini: he was 20 when his Almira held audiences enchanted at multiple performances in Hamburg.)

Bellini composed Adelson e Salvini while finishing his studies at the Naples Conservatory. The work was first performed there in the Conservatory’s teatrino in 1825 as that year’s “graduation opera.” Yet it did not receive a professional staging until 1985 (in Bellini’s hometown, Catania). A piano-vocal score appeared in 1854 and another in 1903, but both scores were based on a version that had been greatly altered by other hands (and that turned the spoken dialogue into recitative). The present recording is the first to make use of the forthcoming critical edition of Bellini’s original version, whose main features are described in a booklet-essay by Bellini authority Fabrizio Della Seta.

The musical style of this 1825 work is, not surprisingly, similar to that of the leading Italian composer at the time, Gioachino Rossini. There are the familiar patter-songs, crescendo passages over a dominant pedal-tone, propulsive cabalettas, and of course a second-act ensemble where time seems to stop and the characters comment on their confusion and distress. But to all these Bellini adds passages whose sweet-sad lyricism points to moments in one or another of the nine operas that he was to write over the next ten years. (He would die in 1835 at age 34.) Opera lovers have some sense of this from a few excerpts that occasionally get recorded on recital discs: here, for example, is the tenor’s “Ecco, signor, la sposa,” sung meltingly by a youngish José Carreras (from an aria collection recorded ca. 1975) [HERE].

The operatic conventions of the day are chosen and adapted with keen dramatic sensitivity. For example, the Act 1 duet between Salvini and his servant Bonifacio (who sings and speaks throughout the work in Neapolitan dialect) is set primarily as an aria for the tenor, against which the comic bass offers wiseacre commentary, which Salvini is too self-obsessed to hear [HERE]. Perhaps the librettist and composer had in mind the quasi-trio “Ah, chi mi dice mai” in Mozart’s Don Giovanni, in which Donna Elvira sings a similarly agitated soliloquy about her unrequited love while others unseen by her—Giovanni and Leporello—make light of her woes.

Adelson e Salvini has spoken dialogue between the musical numbers, something that rarely occurs in operas in Italian, except certain ones composed for (or adapted for) Naples. Spoken dialogue had of course long been the norm in French comic operas (e.g., in the aforementioned Uthal, by Méhul, and Le pré aux clercs, by Hérold) and even in some French serious operas, such as Cherubini’s Médée. And Naples had been under French control during the years 1806-15. Naples would continue to mount spoken-dialogue operas well after Bellini’s day. (The last important such spoken-dialogue opera in Naples was probably Nicola De Giosa’s marvelous Don Checco, which I mentioned earlier as another of the wonderful surprises brought by this year’s flood of opera CDs.)

For this graduation opera, Bellini was assigned a libretto by Andrea Leone Tottola that had been performed in Naples in 1816 (in a setting by Valentino Fioravanti). Tottola, rather forgotten today, contributed effective libretti to important serious operas by Rossini and Donizetti. The booklet essay by Benjamin Walton explains in rich detail the genesis and resonances of the work’s libretto and music. So does, more briefly, in a review a of a concert performance given by the same performers heard here. (In a separate post, Seymour offers a perceptive review of the present CD recording.)

Previous recordings of Adelson e Salvini were made during staged performances (1985, 1992). The 1992 performance has also has appeared as a DVD. I did not know the opera before listening to the new recording, and I now love it, from start to finish. Bellini must have been fond of the work as well: he subsequently revised some of the numbers and started to enrich the orchestration, all with an eye toward a professional production in a normal-sized theater. Alas, he never brought the revision to completion. (The so-called second version, with recitatives, includes whatever Bellini managed to complete, plus changes that others had made, in part based on instructions he had given to his friend Florimo.) Instead, the composer ended up lifting various sections of the score, adjusting them somewhat, and placing them in new operas. For example, most of the overture got re-used in the one to Il pirata (1827, only two years after Adelson). And the heroine Nelly’s aria “Dopo l’oscura nembo” (in Act 1) was tightened, transposed upward for soprano, and given a new text, to become Juliet’s “O quante volte,” in Bellini’s I Capuleti e i Montecchi (1830). “O quante volte” is one of the most popular arias from any of Bellini’s operas, and indeed among the most quintessentially “Bellinian” in style—and here we find it, somewhat different in shape yet instantly recognizable and dramatically apt, in his very first opera.

In addition to the use of spoken dialogue, the work has at least three highly unusual features:

1) Because it was written for students at the all-male Conservatory to perform, the female roles were written in contralto range and were presumably sung by young males who went into falsetto for any notes above their comfort zone. (Nelly was sung by a fourteen-year-old who would go on to a significant career as a tenor.) In the present recording, the female roles are taken by mezzos and altos.

The fact that the opera’s eight roles include three in the alto range, one tenor, and four baritones/basses produces some unusual couplings, most notably a friendship duet for tenor and baritone that may remind listeners of friendship duets for two female voices in Rossini’s Semiramide (a recent hit, 1823) and Bellini’s own Norma (1831). (Of course, one of the two female voices in Semiramide is a “pants role”: the warrior Arsace.) The men’s duet of mutual affection and sympathy is filled with dramatic tension because we know something that they do not know (yet): they both love the same woman, Nelly.

2) The work is an example of Italian-language opera semiseria. A semiseria work generally involves everyday characters (rather than, say, ancient military heroes), entangles them in misunderstandings and menacing situations, and then resolves matters happily (at least for the characters who have been presented as sympathetic). The mixed tone of an Italian semiseria opera can be hard for modern audiences to accept. Only a few such works have managed to survive on modern stages, notably Bellini’s La sonnambula and, lagging a good distance behind (except for its beloved overture), Rossini’s La gazza ladra. Somehow operagoers more readily accept a similar mixture in works from the German Singspiel tradition: Entführung, Zauberflöte, Fidelio, and Freischütz.

3) The tenor—Salvini, a painter and painting-teacher from Italy—is far from heroic. Indeed, he is self-centered and unstable. In one crucial scene, Nelly faints at a false report concerning her fellow Briton Lord Adelson, whom she loves (and who has long been Salvini’s closest friend). Salvini takes her fainting as an opportunity to embrace her. She regains consciousness, frees herself from his grasp, and calls him a wicked man who has betrayed Adelson’s trust in him, and he, momentarily undaunted, replies that his love for her is too strong for him to resist. Soon after, he tries to commit suicide, but is prevented by Adelson, and the two then join in the friendship duet mentioned above. The tenor also, on one occasion, compromised Nelly by moaning aloud about his unrequited love for her, oblivious to the fact that he might be overheard (as indeed happened at that very moment). Later, and worse still, Salvini, attempting to kill the villainous Colonel Struley—who is in the midst of abducting Nelly under cover of darkness—accidentally turns his dagger on Nelly instead. When Salvini hears Struley cry out (maliciously) that Nelly is dead, he realizes what his rashness has led to. He now begs Adelson to kill him. But it is revealed that Nelly is perfectly alive: Salvini’s dagger got tangled in the cloak that the evil Struley had wrapped around her. As the opera ends, Nelly sensibly pairs up with her beloved baritone Adelson instead of with the hotheaded tenor Salvini. As for the latter, he gets instructed by Adelson to return to his native Italy to live out “una vita tranquilla,” presumably in lonely regret. There is a hint that Salvini may, after a year’s delay, marry Fanny, an art student of his who—as she revealed in a lovely aria at the beginning of the opera—loves him desperately.

I have not mentioned all the plot complications (for example, two startling letters are read, one of them forged), but I invite you to discover and enjoy them for yourself. Because enjoy them you will, if you have any taste for early nineteenth-century opera and for the somewhat melodramatic culture that gave birth to it. (Salvini feels like a younger brother of Goethe’s Werther.) And of course if you like Bellini’s other works, or indeed Rossini’s, this one is definitely for you.

Salvini is sung by Enea Scala. I first encountered, with pleasure, his clean and intense singing in the recent recording (mentioned earlier) of Simon Mayr’s Medea in Corinto, as Egeo, the shorter and lighter of that opera’s two tenor roles. The role of Salvini is stratospheric, going up to high C multiple times. Most tenors today would be advised to take the highest notes in falsetto as tenors regularly did in the worlds of French and Italian opera until the 1840s. Scala sings the whole role in full voice, and thrillingly: he here jumps into the class of Juan-Diego Florez and Lawrence Brownlee [HERE]. (The tenor on the 1992 recording was, according to critics who have heard it, brave but inadequate.) The wily servant Bonifacio—this is the only comic character in any Bellini opera—is embodied to perfection by Maurizio Muraro, whose rendering of Dr. Bartolo, in Yannick Nezet-Seguin’s recent recording of Le nozze di Figaro, has been much admired [HERE].

The rest of the singers were new to me. Daniela Barcellona (an Italian from Trieste, despite what her last name may lead some to suspect) is a gratifying and reliable presence; her coloratura is liquid, and she makes each melismatic passage feel appropriate to Nelly’s emotional state at that moment: from sad to fearful to joyous. [listen HERE] I did notice some incipient wobble on sustained notes (as often happens with singers in their late 40s). Kathryn Rudge sings with beautiful, steady tone in the smaller role of the besotted Fanny [HERE]. Simone Alberghini sings the Lord Adelson role vividly when it goes into high, sustained notes; his coloratura is huffy. Baritone Rodion Pogossov (from Russia, but now a regular at the Met and other major houses) sings with splendid firmness and edge, conveying Colonel Struley’s nastiness without going overboard [HERE]. The role of his servant Geronio is taken by a young bass-baritone, David Soar, whose solid voice has been heard as Masetto and Colline at New York’s Metropolitan Opera [HERE]. Leah-Marian Jones does all that is needed as the housekeeper Madama Rivers. (She has sung such roles as Dvořák’s Ježibaba at British opera houses.) The spoken dialogue is handled superbly by the native Italian speakers and more than capably by the non-Italians. The choral singing, from the men of the Opera Rara Chorus, is spirited if sometimes a little amateurish-sounding.

The BBC orchestra plays wonderfully: I loved how the pizzicato strings conveyed the needed sneakiness in the duettino for Struley and Geronimo that opens Act 2, and how various solo wind players relished their moment in the sun (e.g., clarinet, horn, and—in an extended and dramatic passage—English horn). Bellini scored the work without brass, presumably concerned not to overpower the young singers who were available to him at the Conservatory. An appendix to the second CD contains four substantial passages that Bellini fully revised for the ill-fated second version. Several of these appendix numbers include entirely new music, and we now get to hear Bellini’s fuller orchestration (i.e., trumpets, trombones, timpani, and extra woodwind lines). Bellini also adds a chorus of male retainers to the Act 2 duettino, in which Struley announces his evil plan to his hesitant henchman Geronimo, and this makes the number even more menacing than it was originally.

The numerous color photos in the booklet show the singers interacting, often with evident amusement. I share their delight. This is surely one of the best opera recordings of the year. And, if you are ever not in the mood to hear a lot of Italian spoken dialogue (no matter how well performed and how crucial for understanding the characters’ motivations and machinations), you can always skip to the next track.

The booklet essays are in English only. The plot summary is in English, French, German, and Italian. The libretto is in Italian and in a largely skillful English translation by Emanuela Gustella and Sue Rose. But the translators misunderstand one passage (p. 77): Nelly is not saying that her heart is doubtful but that Adelson’s words of assurance have restored calm to her formerly doubtful heart. Biographies for most but not all of singers are given at

Adelson e Salvini was given three staged performances in November 2017 in Ancona (Italy), under the auspices of the Fondazione Pergolesi Spontini. The role of Colonel Struley was played by Rodion Pogossov, as on this recording. I wish I could have been there! This opera deserves to become much better known.


*  *  *

Joubert: Jane Eyre (1987-97, revised 2016)

April Frederick (Jane Eyre), Mark Milhofer (St. John Rivers), David Stout (Edward Rochester), Gwion Thomas (Brocklehurst), English Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Kenneth Woods, SOMM263 [2 CDs] 125 minutes (opera alone: 107 minutes)

I had never heard a note by John Joubert (1927- ) before. Critics have often praised his works for organ and for chorus. Several of his hymns and carols are widely known. Joubert, I have now learned, was born in South Africa but received his training in England and has made his long and continuing career there, mainly in Birmingham. (His last name comes from a French Huguenot ancestor.)

One thing I can say for sure, after hearing Jane Eyre: Joubert possesses a keen sense for character, situation, and dramatic arc. John Allison, in a review (in the Telegraph) of the concert performance [preserved HERE], agrees: Joubert’s music in this opera “sometimes suggests what a less chilly-hearted Britten might have sounded like. A natural opera composer, Joubert writes for a busy orchestra that drives the action along and illuminates it, without overwhelming the singers.” Joubert’s musico-dramatic insights are evident in his booklet-essay and in the 17-minute interview that ends the second CD.

Joubert has written four short operas, plus three full-length ones. The other two full ones are Silas Marner (1961, after the George Eliot novel) and Under Western Eyes (1968, after the Joseph Conrad novel). Jane Eyre was composed and revised over the years 1987-97. Joubert willingly cut 45 minutes out of it in preparation for the world-premiere performance recorded here; he considers this the definitive version. (The five orchestral interludes that he removed became the main material for his Symphony No. 3.)

The result is a taut work, to a libretto savvily carved by Kenneth Birkin out of the beloved Charlotte Brontë novel, as the soprano who sings the title role has explained in a video interview.

Some earlier or omitted episodes from the novel are referred to briefly in passages of soliloquy or in discussions between the characters. (Birkin is the author of two highly regarded books from Cambridge University Press: one on Richard Strauss’s opera Arabella, the other on the great conductor Hans von Bülow.)

The opera’s plot omits Jane’s painful childhood, beginning instead at the point where she is leaving her teaching position at Lowood school to become governess at the Thornfield Hall estate. Scene 2 jumps to the moment where Jane saves Lord Rochester from burning to death. In scene 3, Jane and Rochester confess their love. Scene 4, in the local church, consists of their wedding ceremony, which is interrupted by the revelation that Rochester has a previous wife: Bertha Mason, a madwoman, whom Rochester has long confined to the attic [listen HERE]. Scene 5 shows us Jane at Reverend St. John Rivers’s home, resisting his urgent pleas to become his wife and travel with him to India. Scene 6 [HERE] presents Rochester alone in a moving soliloquy, then rejoined by Jane, who learns that Bertha has recently died (in another blaze of her own setting; this time Rochester was maimed and blinded trying to save her). The opera ends with Jane and Rochester expressing their mutual devotion, tinged with sorrowful understanding of the travails that each has undergone. (Readers interested in further discussion of the relationship between the novel and the opera are urged to read Claire Seymour’s enthusiastic and insightful review of this same recording, at OperaToday.)

Joubert’s style here is accessible and largely tonal: similar in some ways to that of Britten’s Peter Grimes or Carlisle Floyd’s Susannah. Another critic (Andrew Clement) plausibly compared the work’s style and approach to Debussy’s Pelléas and the operas of Janáček. The vocal lines, at least in this well-miked concert performance before an enthusiastic audience, come through clearly, as does the extensive orchestral commentary. I hardly needed to look at the libretto. Joubert has cannily used a smallish orchestra: 35 players, including one each of the usual woodwinds and brass. (The chamber forces can be seen rehearsing, in this short video.)

The woodwind players all double on a second instrument (e.g., clarinetist on bass clarinet). This allows for coloristic combinations, e.g., flute and English horn. There are also numerous recurring themes that get transformed for dramatic and musico-structural purposes, as the conductor, Kenneth Wood, explains in a rich booklet-essay.

The single most powerful scene is, almost inevitably, the interrupted wedding. But I can imagine Scene 3—the avowal-of-love scene—being performed separately in concert, since it involves only two singers and has a nice shape on its own, with the characters ending in a mood of bliss that is gently questioned by the insightful orchestra.

My one objection to the opera is that, very often, a character’s vocal phrase is repeated immediately after by instruments in the orchestra. The scoring of each “echo” (solo horn, full string section, etc.) varies according to the situation, and the echo itself is often interestingly elaborated in ways that reveal the given character’s feelings. Still, the basic pattern of vocal statement, then instrumental mirroring, becomes distractingly predictable at times.

The vocalists are all more than capable. The role of the sneering Brocklehurst (director of Lowood school) could have used a singer with a fuller sound to his low notes. The Jane is superb, her voice pure and shimmering except for a bit of wobble on some high, intense notes. (If I were in Jane’s shoes, I would wobble, too!) The Rochester is first-rate. Reverend Rivers, the main tenor role, is vividly sung, in a scene that gives the work its only glints of (harsh) humor

On this recording, the tenor who sings the reverend also sings the smaller role of Richard Mason (Bertha’s brother), and no less vividly. The smaller roles are well handled, including the reverend’s sisters Diana and Mary, all aflutter at his plan to leave them and earn his “glorious future in Heaven” by bringing “the Word of the Lord” to the heathen in India.

The orchestra is splendid throughout, as in the opera’s brief prelude [HERE]. (We can, under the circumstances of a live recording of a single performance, easily excuse an occasional moment of sour tuning in the winds.) I had not realized until now that there is an English Symphony Orchestra, based in Birmingham. The ESO is an expanded version of the well-known English String Orchestra, which was founded in 1978 and has made many recordings under William Boughton. The two orchestras now co-exist and share many players. (The ESO has recently released recordings of music by Elgar—orchestrated by Donald Fraser—and by Ernst Křenek.)

I hope Joubert’s Jane Eyre gets snapped up by major opera houses and summer festivals—or indeed performed “in concert,” as on this recording. The whole recording has been made available on YouTube, carved up into shortish units, thus making it easy for curious listeners to get to know [HERE].

I wonder: when might we be able to hear and assess Joubert’s six other operas?

And I also wonder: what wonderful surprises may 2018 hold in store for lovers of unusual recorded opera?

Ralph P. Locke is emeritus professor of musicology at the University of Rochester’s Eastman School of Music. Six of his articles have won the ASCAP-Deems Taylor Award for excellence in writing about music. His most recent two books are Musical Exoticism: Images and Reflections and Music and the Exotic from the Renaissance to Mozart (both Cambridge University Press). The two books are now available in paperback, and the second is also available as an e-book.

The Bellini and Joubert reviews above first appeared, in slightly different form, in American Record Guide and appear here by that magazine’s kind permission.


6 Comments [leave a civil comment (others will be removed) and please disclose relevant affiliations]

  1. As a once frequent contributor to this site, as well as an avid opera-goer and performer, I fully understand the responsibility of the critic to provide insight to any given performance, from a multi-faceted perspective. One expects the reviewer to have a base of knowledge and experience on any subject to be able to speak intelligently on the topic that is being reviewed; Professor Locke, of course, fits those requirements and more.

    However, one of the things that we as performers take umbrage with as it relates to reviews is the fact that the critic is only seeing the product, as opposed to all of the situations, both positive and negative, that contributed to the arrival of the performance that the reviewer sees. In all of Prof. Locke’s astute commentary concerning the recent recordings of “Adelson e Salvini,” and “Jane Eyre,” he makes the point that “The tenor on the 1992 recording was, according to critics who have heard it, brave but inadequate.” While this very well may be the case, I do find the comment slightly insensitive and somewhat flippant, considering the history of the specific tenor and production in question.

    The first, and most obvious and objective comparison that can be made, is the realization of the assertion by Prof. Locke that the role of Salvini “is stratospheric, going up to high C multiple times.” This is unequivocally true, but using this Act 1 duet as a rubric (as this is the clip that is readily available on Youtube from the 1992 production.) The beginning of the duet seems to be similar, but as the duet progresses, with vocal score in hand, it becomes quickly apparent that the production in Catania maintains the unimaginably stratospheric tessitura with the opening duet littered with melismatic passages and sustained phrasing with High Cs and even Ds, where the Opera-Rara recording, as the style of the Bel Canto era admittedly allows, interpolates many of the pitches above the Ab4 down the octave, and even uses material that was not originally part of the score in exchange for the virtuosity required for the original version. In fact, throughout the listening of the most recent recording, I was unsure of which singer was the tenor and which was the baritone. By the end of the duet, to Mr. Scala’s credit, he sings a climactic and beautiful C5 and an upper neighbor ornamented D5, but this is quite a different thing from the 38 high C5s, 2 E5s, 12 or so D5s, and around 96 high B4s in the role as a whole.

    As a part of the duet, the Catania tenor continues onto the cabaletta “O Quante Amare” with a written and nearly laughably high E5, where Mr. Scala omits any arioso in the middle of the duet. This is purely an objective observation and not one with any intended comparisons between the vocalisms of either tenor.

    However, I do have a somewhat more personal relationship with the Catania tenor, as he was my teacher at New England Conservatory, and continues to be to date. There have been many stories of his 20 years on the international stage told in the studio, as I was coming into my own as a tenor, and I did not remember the specific and exact circumstances of this production. I sent him a message tonight to clarify details, and below are his quoted remarks on both the pirate recording of Nuova Era, and his whirlwind casting in this role.

    “I got the gig with 3 days notice because Stanford Olsen’s agent neglected to inform the theater of his cancellation because his schedule at the Met covering Pavarotti had changed, and he wanted more time to put the role into his voice. I did not audition for the gig. My agent ran into the Catania representative on the street in NYC and told the desperate rep that I could do the role uncut. I believe she may have heard an audio recording of me and then immediately engaged me for the gig. I drove to Stanford’s home in New Jersey where he showed me what I was facing, gave me his score, and could not have been a nicer and more supportive colleague as I was jumping into the deep end of the opera pool in only my first year as a professional. I literally prepared the score in 3 days, got on a plane and did a complete sing-through upon arrival. By the end of that week of rehearsal, I was completely off-book and we premiered approximately 26 days from the day I got the score. It was the scariest experience in my career, so young in my professional journey.”

    As for the pirated recording that was produced by Nuova Era, he said this:

    “It is wholly unfair to judge me or any of the artists on the 1992 pirate recording of Nuova Era because of the imbalance of their pirate microphone setup that was heavy on the orchestra and quite distant sounding for the singers. Granted, my voice was a leggiero, but someone posted [on youtube] a pirated video from the Catania balcony of our performance which has since been removed, that gave a much more realistic sense of the vocal balance. I had a small voice complex from that Nuova Era recording and the subsequent criticism to the recording, but was shocked at how fantastic I sounded and carried beyond their Nuova Era microphones in the orchestra pit into the hall that the video revealed. I felt totally vindicated by seeing and hearing that video that is unfortunately not online anymore. I think critics would have a very different take on my performance as a result, but it’s not important to me at this point. I am not concerned with criticism, unless it is about my teaching. That performance, along with 20 years on the international stage, provided me with one of the most prestigious faculty appointments in the world.”

    His performance (if the recording of this duet, however flawed, is any indication) is indeed courageous, and I would venture to say more than adequate, regardless of the lack of preparation that he had to learn the 3 hour long score – and even less to become comfortable vocally with the nearly impossible music of young Bellini.

    This is simply one example of a more than capable performer that made the absolute best out of a very difficult situation that is beyond his control, and being judged by a very critical audience, without the necessary background information for the production.

    I am not in any way suggesting that there are not things to be critical about the 29 year old tenor taking on the monumental task of this role, but I am suggesting that perhaps his debut in this should have garnered more acclaim and understanding from the critical audience, for not only the role in the opera that he played, but also being the saving grace of the production, as there are not exactly a plethora of tenors that are capable of negotiating the treacherous tessitura of this role. (For anyone interested in seeing the comparison I am describing, please see the links below.)

    The job of the critic is of course to provide an objective and informative snapshot of only what is put in front of them, which I am not in any way challenging, but I would argue that without changing original criticisms, while the background context may not affect the critic’s response to a given stimulus, it may inform the way that the reader processes the criticisms from any reviewer. This I would hope and have to believe, would lead to a more educated public, and a lack of necessity to defend a truly brilliant performer, and one of the best men living, for his performance 25 years ago.

    NB: The figures quoted above concerning the number of high notes come directly from Mr. Williams’s original score.

    Links for Comparison: Adelson e Salvini – Ricordi Vocal Score *IMSLP* – Nuova Era Internazionale 1992 – Bradley Williams – Opera Rara 2016 – Enea Scala

    Comment by Joshua Collier — December 6, 2017 at 12:10 am

  2. I am delighted to learn from Joshua Collier and Bradley Williams the conditions under which the 1992 Nuova Era live recording was made, and of the conditions under which the remarkable and courageous Mr. Williams undertook to learn the role of Salvini on such short notice.
    –The fact that Mr. Williams sang a number of extraordinarily high notes when singing the role, more than Enea Scala does on the new recording, is indeed remarkable, even (under the conditions that he describes) admirable. I appreciate the effort that Joshua Collier has put into documenting this fact.
    –At the same time, I offer two words of caution:
    –(1) The new recording with Enea Scala (on the Opera Rara label) uses a new, scholarly edition of the opera, by noted Bellini authority Fabrizio della Seta. This edition, to my knowledge, is not yet published. It will be interesting, once the edition is available, to see how it differs from the two piano-vocal scores that have long been available.
    –(2) Scholars in recent decades (e.g., Will Crutchfield) have demonstrated that nineteenth-century singers regularly altered the highest and/or lowest notes of a vocal line to suit their gifts and limitations. If Enea Scala did some of this on the 1992 live recording (which I cannot be sure, not having seen the edition that was used), this should have been made explicit in the otherwise detailed and informative notes to the recording. But it would also, arguably, be to his credit: he makes the role his own, while maintaining its spirit.
    –I look forward to listening to the whole 1992 live recording, from Catania. (As I hope my review made clear, the brief remarks about the 1992 Catania recording simply summarized a 1994 review by the record critic Charles H. Parsons.)
    –I commend Bradley Williams for his devoted career on behalf of the operatic art–and of a voice type (the high tenor) that was crucial to many important operas over many decades and has long been misunderstood or even ignorantly ridiculed. Today we are finally hearing certain prominent roles sung with the confidence and flair that they deserve, thanks to the pioneering efforts of a number of talented and dedicated singers, such as Bradley Williams.
    –At the same time, I wonder if these roles would become somewhat more easily performable if tenors were more willing to take the highest notes in falsetto, half-voice, and so on. This is of course too big a topic to be broached in an end-of-review Comment box!

    Comment by Ralph Locke — December 22, 2017 at 7:24 am

  3. I think that the tenor writing in many of Bellini’s operas speaks to a style that is not only past, but shrouded in mystery. We know from the scores that he (and sometimes Donizetti, who wrote a high E-flat for the tenor in his duet with Lucia) wrote stratospheric high notes for the tenor (above D) that had no special preparation, no fermata, no “colla voce” in the accompaniment, so they must have been expected to be produced in a different manner than they are now. My personal theory is that it was something like the Rossini tenor presented by Richard Conrad on the “Art of Bel Canto” recordings with Sutherland, a sound that is very beautiful but not really in keeping with what we expect to hear from a tenor now. It is absolutely a topic too vast for a comment section, but I think that if we accept that for a modern tenor to execute these parts there will have to be some rewriting, or a switch into a voix mixte or head voice, they would be done more frequently.

    Comment by Thomas Dawkins — December 23, 2017 at 2:11 pm

  4. A call for the lovechild of Frankie Valli and Carolyn Hester.

    Comment by david moran — December 23, 2017 at 7:09 pm

  5. Generally, I don’t come to BMI for chuckles…..but when I read this:

    “A call for the lovechild of Frankie Valli and Carolyn Hester.”..

    …I laughed so hard I almost had a coronary.

    Thank you Mr. Moran.

    Comment by Jonathan Brodie — December 23, 2017 at 7:52 pm

  6. In the distaff side of the spirit:

    Comment by david moran — December 24, 2017 at 5:13 pm

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Sorry, this comment forum is now closed.