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While artists are often
privileged through exclusive recording contracts, occasionally it is
the public that suffers from self-indulgence on the part of the
performer and the record company. The extremes can be seen in Renée
Fleming's two discs under review. "The Beautiful Voice" is a
collage of some of the soprano's favorite music, a mixture of operatic
arias and soupy arrangements of non-operatic items. The singer's
tendency to stretch out a line is only encouraged by Jeffrey Tate
doing his imitation of the late John Pritchard, as the almost
six-minute-long aria from Louise testifies. After the perfect
calling card represented by Fleming's first aria disc with Solti, this
is a disappointment. And might one add that the Digipack loses all
validity if the section that holds the cd in place is broken.
Fortunately,
"I Want Magic" is a wonderful antidote, with its selections
from operas by American composers (Stravinsky'sRake dates from
his American years) with a single false step when the soprano unwisely
attempts a lumbering version of "Glitter and be gay" from
Bernstein's Candide, complete with ungodly cackle at the end.
The rest of the album could also have been given the title "The
Beautiful Voice". Arias from Floyd's Susannah are
haunting (a quality lacking in the opera as a whole), while excerpts
from Porgy and Bess are as rich and emotional as one might
want. An excerpt from Previn's Streetcar Named Desire arouses
curiosity to hear the entire work - just premiered in San Francisco -
while an aria from Barber's Vanessa makes one want to go back
to the complete recording for a rehearing of a much disparaged work.
James Levine and the Met Orchestra are perfect companions on this
journey through fifty years of American operatic history which at the
same time is the soprano's tribute to her valiant predecessors who
stamped these roles with their own personalities: Price, Steber,
Raskin, Sills, Curtin.
Decca's Entartete Musik series is a
fascinating concept that almost invariably comes up with a satisfying
experience. It is nonetheless unlikely that Eisler's "Hollywood
Songbook" would ever have been recorded had Matthias Goerne not
had an exclusive contract with Decca. It is the listener who is the
ultimate beneficiary as we become acquainted with a composer who has
long been under a cloud. This is song-writing in the main tradition,
very clearly a link between the early work of the Viennese trinity and
such living composers as Aribert Reimann and Wolfgang Rihm, but far
more accessible than either of the latter. Most of the texts are by
Eisler's long-time collaborator Bertold Brecht, so that it is
interesting to compare the reactions of Eisler and Weill to the poetry
of one of pre-war Germany's most important writers. The title of the
work should in no way be taken as a reference to Hollywood, the film
capital, but Hollywood, the place of exile for many political refugees
from the Holocaust. Eisler can offer up suave melodies, but also harsh
declamation, both the logical outcome of the fusion of text and music.
Ben
Heppner's first recital is fascinating for it is a long time since a
singer with such heft has been heard in some of this repertoire, and
it is exhilarating to hear the tenor's ringing high notes and rich
mezza voce. While the voice doesn't quite flow into the high notes in
the opening "Adelaïde", the Strauss shows Heppner in
full flight. Schumann shows his delicacy while Liszt allows him overt
Italianate emotion. Craig Rutenberg is the perfect partner, offering a
wonderful cushion through a wide dynamic range.
"Live in
Italy" is not only an audio reminder of a live concert given in
the Teatro Olimpico in June 1998, but there will also be a video
souvenir. Some of the material has already been recorded on earlier
recital discs, but we are here swept up in the ambiance of a live
concert, complete with annoying applause at the end of virtually every
number, i.e. don't be taken in by the 76-minute duration. It is
apparent that a live audience offers a stimulus to which the performer
responds, and the wide dynamic range employed is testimony that it is
not only the work of the recording engineers. One might voice the
standard complaint that Bartoli's pianissimos offer as much breath as
sound, or that some of her coloratura sounds almost mechanical, but
these quibbles are swept away in the aftermath of the whirlwind.
Jean-Yves Thibaudet is at one with the mezzo, so that their shifts of
tempo are smoothly executed. And for the early music, there is a
baroque string ensemble to offer a more stylish background than the
customary piano (see below).
And then we start going
downhill. The mish-mash on Angela Gheorghiu's recital resembles the
souvenirs accumulated on a voyage, but in this case they have not been
discarded. The soprano's operatic flair is lost in this repertoire,
where she croons, slows everything down so that the music simply
stands still, and her performances of lieder, chansons, Italian songs
all run into one another. Sumi Jo's light-voiced traversal of Italian
song starts with Salvatore Rosa (1615-1673) and ends with Stefano
Donaudy (1879-1925), and includes, among others, Cesti, both
Scarlattis, Handel, Mozart, Rossini, Bellini and Verdi. We have become
too musically sophisticated, one would hope, to accept what used to be
considered "warm-up" fare in make-do versions. While we can
admire the warm baritone of Dmitri Hvorostovsky, the same remarks
apply when we listen to some of the soupy arrangements of music that
needs a sensuous delivery alongside a reduced instrumentarium. In this
instance, most of this music was not written for a low voice so that
we are once again being served a mis-representation, however well
sung.
The Poulenc recital by Gabriel Bacquier would have been
welcome had it been recorded thirty years ago, but while we can admire
how well-preserved the voice is at the age of 72, we are all too well
aware of the limitations. In this instance, however, we are subdued by
the singer's interpretations, almost over the top in the more
exuberant numbers but haunting in such items as "Hôtel".
It is also curious to hear "La courte paille" interpreted by
a male as it is very much a woman's cycle. This curious detour in
Maguelone's series entitled Mélodiste français should
not deter you from some of their more serious explorations of their
chosen terrain as we have commented on earlier occasions (Leguerney,
Caplet, Ollone).
The question remains, would the discs by
Gheorghiu, Hvorostovsky or Jo have been contemplated had these
performers not been under exclusive contract? While it is always
pleasant to have a souvenir of a particular artist in concert, was it
necessary to duplicate some of Bartoli's slim discography on this live
recital, or is this simply the backwash from a planned video? Have the
artists "blackmailed" the companies into accommodating their
misguided wishes? I'm sure that the fans of these particular singers
are buying these albums, but it is music that is being done a
disservice.
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