80° Banda Musicale Giuseppe Verdi

Giuseppe Verdi was commissioned by the Paris Opera to write a grand opera for the Great Exhibition of 1855. The opera's subject was to be the Sicilian Vespers, the infamous massacre of the French by Sicilians in 1282 Palermo. Verdi's librettist for the work was Eugène Scribe and difficulties arose at once. Verdi, who favored lean realistic drama, was handcuffed by the French grand opera formula with its five act form, lavish choruses and ballet. The work with its original French title, 'Les Vêpres siciliennes' premiered to great acclaim but Verdi was never pleased with it. Eventually it was translated into Italian and this is the version that has survived.

This religious masterpiece, composed in memory of the great Italian novelist Alessandro Manzoni (1785-1873), has themes even more cosmic than any in Verdi's other operas: life and death, heaven and hell, the Christian vision of humanity's redemption, the end of the world, and the last judgment. Verdi's music rises to the tremendous demands of this subject matter; it is music of grandeur, guilt, terror, and consolation, with a breadth of vision and an intensity of feeling unique in the composer's work and in religious music. John Eliot Gardiner's is the first recording made with period instruments, a kind of performance that some musiclovers still dismiss as dilettantism, more concerned with musicological correctness than feeling and communication.

Giuseppe Verdi may have written his most glamorous and heroic roles for tenors, but he often assigned his more psychologically complex and conflicted character portrayals to baritones- and Rigoletto is just such a role: perhaps the greatest baritone role ever written. It demands not only a magnificent voice, but also a supremely gifted actor who is able to convey a broad range of emotions, human qualities, and inner subtleties. Enter universally beloved Dmitri Hvorostovsky: a prolific Delos artist and supreme Verdi baritone. The resplendent beauty and incomparable versatility of his voice is matched only by the depth of his interpretive soul. In this- Dmitri’s first ever (and long-awaited) complete recording of Rigoletto- he performs the title role magnificently, along with an all-star supporting cast. Choral-orchestral splendor comes courtesy of renowned maestro Constantine Orbelian, his Kaunas City Symphony Orchestra, and the men of the Kaunas State Choir.

Deutsche Grammophon's reissue of its 1963 recording of La Traviata should be an essential part of the library of anyone who loves the opera because Renata Scotto's Violetta is so beautifully sung and dramatically realized. Scotto was at the beginning of her career, not yet 30, when she made this recording, three years before her acclaimed Madama Butterfly with John Barbirolli. Her voice is wonderfully fresh, with a youthful bloom that makes Violetta's plight especially poignant. She is in complete control; her tone is pure, full, and sweet; and her coloratura is agile, but it's her exceptional ability to act with her voice that makes her Violetta so memorable. This was the role in which she had made her debut when she was 18, and she inhabits it fully. She's entirely believable and inexorably draws the listener into the tragedy that Violetta's life becomes. It's a portrayal so vivid that not all of the rest of the cast can avoid being dwarfed by it.

Carlos Kleiber's 1977 La Traviata is a rare gestalt among studio opera recordings, and it is one of the conductor's finer achievements. Kleiber knits the score together with unwavering rhythmic and dramatic intensity, never allowing any single moment to eclipse the larger scene or musical structure. The singers are kept on a tight leash – given enough room to shape phrases and cadences, but not to indulge in sheer vocal display. The orchestra is similarly focused on realizing every detail of rhythm, melody, and articulation with vivid intensity. As a result, favorite arias, duets, and ensembles melt into the surrounding scenes in a way that invites curiosity about the drama at large while propelling it relentlessly forward. The general pace may strike some as a bit fast, but it's never boring, and frequently brilliant.

This is a major release–a recording of Verdi's original version of Macbeth, composed in 1847, instead of the one we know, i.e., the 1865 revision. About a third of the score is different from the usually performed version, with Lady Macbeth singing a far more showy coloratura aria where "La luce langue" was later placed, a vastly different take on Macbeth's third-act delirium with the witches, a more conventional chorus than in 1865 to open the last act, and a final scene which is a more vivid confrontation between Macbeth and Macduff. There are also minor changes along the way which fans of the opera will enjoy comparing with Verdi's later thoughts.

Verdi’s Requiem is a work of white-hot dramatic intensity, infused with his lifetime of composing opera. His approach to religion is explosive, emotional, and full of temperament and fear, the latter being wonderfully conveyed by López-Cobos in this concert performance.

The opera is based on the play La Bataille de Toulouse by Joseph Méry.
The performance is conducted by Boris Brott, who served as Assistant Conductor to the New York Philharmonic under Leonard Bernstein, and Music Director and Conductor for the Royal Ballet.

Placido Domingo has recorded the role of Otello commercially three times (maybe four–who’s counting?), and each has something to offer. This performance, opening night at La Scala, 1976, when Domingo had been singing the role only slightly more than a year, is the most thrilling and most vocally secure. If it lacks the ultimate in insights and tragedy, it’s hardly empty: even at this stage of his career, Domingo could find the intelligence in each role he sang. His growing impatience with Iago in Act 2, his barely-controlled rage with Desdemona in Act 3, and his towering sadness in the final scene are all the work of a superb singing actor. In addition, the sheer vocal splendor is something to revel in; rarely thereafter were the high notes so brilliant.

Abbado's Verdi recordings are some of the finest available and this Requiem recording is no expection. Abbado takes a less ferocious approach than say Muti, or Barenboim, balancing the dramatic moments effectively against the more introspective aspects of the score. Ricciarelli is in fine form here, singing with a fine sense of line and intense emotional declamation. Her intonation is perfect. Verrett blends seamlessly with Ricciarelli, making the most of their duet and capturing the intense sadness of much of the writing quite well. Domingo, in his first recording of the part, provides a steady stream of golden tone, effortlessly produced. His emotional temperature runs about right here - not overly dramatic - after all, this is not Aida - but strong feelings kept on a tight rein. Ghiaurov is phenomenal.