This Edition presents the “Magnificent Seven” and the “encore” in optimum technical quality. In the mid-Fifties of the last century, with the Cold War freezing relations between East and West, the English record label Decca decided to record a series of Russian operas with the Belgrade National Opera. Belgrade in the Yugoslavia of those days under Josip Tito was more open to “the West” than the Warsaw Pact countries gathered under the wing of the Soviet Union. The deal had been struck by former Decca manager and successful promoter of east European folklore in the USA, record executive Gerald Severn.
This Edition presents the “Magnificent Seven” and the “encore” in optimum technical quality. In the mid-Fifties of the last century, with the Cold War freezing relations between East and West, the English record label Decca decided to record a series of Russian operas with the Belgrade National Opera. Belgrade in the Yugoslavia of those days under Josip Tito was more open to “the West” than the Warsaw Pact countries gathered under the wing of the Soviet Union. The deal had been struck by former Decca manager and successful promoter of east European folklore in the USA, record executive Gerald Severn.
Carlo Maria Giulini was born in Barletta, Southern Italy in May 1914 with what appears to have been an instinctive love of music. As the town band rehearsed he could be seen peering through the ironwork of the balcony of his parents’ home, immovable and intent. The itinerant fiddlers who roamed the countryside during the lean years of the First World War also caught his ear. In 1919, the family moved to the South Tyrol, where the five-year-old Carlo asked his parents for "one of those things the street musicians play". Signor Giulini acquired a three-quarter size violin, setting in train a process which would take his son from private lessons with a kindly nun to violin studies with Remy Principe at Rome’s Academy of St Cecilia at the age of 16.
Bernard Haitink’s 1980 Manfred was the prize of his Concertgebouw/Tchaikovsky symphony cycle. Riccardo Chailly’s 1987 effort with the same orchestra, while very good, doesn’t quite live up to that standard. In both recordings you get the sense that Tchaikovsky composed Manfred expressly for the Concertgebouw Orchestra. The very sound of the ensemble in its own hall conjures the dark, fantasy world described in the music. To this add lively and colorful playing, rich sonority, and utterly impeccable musicianship and you’ve got a uniquely compelling aural experience. Where the performances part company is in Haitink’s embrace of Tchaikovsky’s passionate dramatic ethos, a quality that Chailly, by contrast, tends to shy away from. (Of course, for a truly passionate reading you have to hear Muti’s rendition on EMI.) In his favor Chailly does have Decca’s vivid, high-impact digital recording, which, though having less warmth than the analog Philips production, better conveys the massiveness of the Concertgebouw Hall’s acoustics.
In contrast to Eugene Onegin, Tchaikovsky s other operas have led something of a shadowy existence in the repertoire. Only his penultimate music drama The Queen of Spades (also after Alexander Pushkin) can claim to look back on a continuous performing tradition in recent decades. In 1984 the Bavarian State Opera gave a production that was musically exemplary in many ways, starting with the role of Lisa, sung by Julia Varady.
This is a star-led performance of one of the most popular romantic operas with the unrivalled pairing of Fleming and Hvorostovsky as the doomed lovers. Their onstage chemistry, emotional singing and outstanding acting make this a truly special and unique production. Thousands of movie-goers watched this production live in cinemas across Europe and the US in February 2007, when the production and the singing of the central characters met with great critical acclaim. Valery Gergiev, Russia's greatest living conductor, leads Russia's classic opera, with a thrilling account of Tchaikovsky's most intense and passionate score.