Behold Orpheus, the singing shepherd who braved the Underworld to bring back Eurydice. The only human to conquer death, this famous Thracian bard is the hero of the French cantatas that flourished between 1710 and 1730. They paint a picture of the faithful husband’s burning ardour and pleas, his hypnotic song that won over the King of Darkness, his furtive glance that would forever rob him of his beloved; these are miniature operas, their intense poignancy rendered by the chamber choir that magnificently envelops the singer. This fine team masterfully weaves a tapestry of emotions, the early gems of the Rocaille period, offering a sequel to the Coucher du Roi with which they gifted us two years ago. This truly is the spirit of Versailles.
The latter part of 1975 was a remarkably creative period for Brian Eno. With his masterpiece Another Green World, Eno began moving away from the structure and sound of pop music toward a more static instrumental model, influenced in part by Erik Satie and strongly informed by his prior collaborations with Robert Fripp. Recorded just a month after Another Green World, Discreet Music is his first full foray into what has become known as ambient music. Using the same system of two reel-to-reel tape recorders as No Pussyfooting and Evening Star, Eno was able to layer simple parts atop one another, resulting in a beautiful piece of music that never really changes but constantly evolves with the addition and decay of different parts.
Susanna comes late in the sequence of Handel’s oratorios but in some ways the composer looks back in it to his experience of Italian opera. It largely comprises a sequence of arias (many in the repeated, da capo form of opera seria) as it relates the story from the Biblical Apocrypha of Susanna who is falsely accused of adultery and eventually vindicated through the clever judicial manoeuvrings of the young prophet Daniel.
This DVD of the recently issued Britten/Pears mini series recorded by the BBC for television way back in the 1960's and the 70's is for all intents and purposes another resounding success. All four priceless documents were thought lost, but this Idomeneo seems to have had a charmed life more than others. Indeed, three days before the Aldeburgh première, the hall was left in cinders and it is something of a miracle that the television production could actually go ahead.
"…The observations of the dynamic markings are scrupulous and add greatly to the excitement as they seem to be able plumb ever greater tonal depths at either end of the dynamic spectrum. Perhaps most impressive of all is the respect shown by the Mandelring's for the unnumbered quartet of 1823, which although written some 2 years prior to the great octet shows the rapidly growing style of the young Mendelssohn. They play it with the same professionalism and joy that characterises their other performances…" ~sa-cd.net
". . . [there are numerous times] when subtlety and beauty of his vocal effects take the breath away: the dazzling light and rapid fade, for instance, during the syllables of the word "lumière" [in act one] . . . Sophie Koch puts her best tonsils forward singing the agonized Charlotte of act three, while Eri Nakamura is suitably bubbly [as Sophie] . . . Villazón's ardour finds its match in Antonio Pappano's conducting. He never shrinks from the luscious ache in Massenet's music or its dramatic bustle. Nocturnal sighs; bucolic whooping; dark melodramatics: the Royal Opera House orchestra takes care of them all." ~The Times
The East German-born Stephan Genz, still in his mid-twenties, brings an engaging voice and glowing dramatic sense to this desirable Beethoven collection. Some of the ballad-like songs undoubtedly suit his rich, warm, darkish timbres especially well (‘Klage’ – ‘Lament’, or the mournful ‘Vom Tode’); yet he relishes, too, the lively patter of ‘Neue Liebe, neues Leben’, which, with Vignoles’s lively accompaniment, takes instant flight. The phrasing is nicely sustained, though Genz’s rather self-conscious, earnest delivery can be fractionally unsteady (chiefly in the descent to cadences, a slight overweighting of second syllables, the arching up towards higher notes, and scattered patches of chromatic detail). Goethe’s ‘Es war einmal ein König’ and Gellert’s ‘Busslied’ both hint at the wider emotional range to which this young singer can aspire. His contrast between the end of Goethe’s poignantly pleading ‘Wonne der Wehmut’ and the lightly alert ‘Sehnsucht’ could not be more charming. True, one senses those gloomier timbres might be lightened to advantage (an exquisitely floated ‘May-Song’ cheerfully counters his unusually doom-laden launch to the An die ferne Geliebte cycle). Yet if the disc sometimes suggests a promising artist still just emerging, there is much here that is elegantly persuasive.