Berlioz Carnevale Romano

This must be one of the most important historical documents ever to appear from previously unavailable archives. Much as we admire and praise Davis’s Berlioz (whose latest Trojans we reviewed last month)‚ Beecham has to be at least his peer on this and much other evidence. His arresting‚ inspiriting and brilliantly crafted performance here is a thing to marvel at in its understanding of the true Berlioz spirit. He persuades his newly formed RPO and the BBC Theatre Chorus of the day into giving quite thrilling accounts of their music that not even indifferent sound can mar. Beecham was to have returned‚ at Covent Garden‚ to the grand masterpiece in 1960‚ but that was not to be: a severe stroke prevented what would surely have been his crowning service to Berlioz right at the end of his distinguished career.

Volume 23 in the Hyperion Liszt series validates Liszt's phenomenal mastery of transcribing, and in the case of Berlioz's "Harold in Italy," translating an orchestral work with viola obbligato into a magnificent chamber work for piano and viola. The excellent content of Berlioz's work alone can easily earn five stars, but the other three substantial transcriptions of Gounod and Meyerbeer enhance the splendor of this recording even further.

Berlioz was the first Romantic master of the orchestra. His music hasn't been surpassed in terms of sheer brilliance and accuracy of effect. This set includes all of the overtures, the Symphonie fantastique, Harold in Italy, the Royal Hunt and Storm from Les Troyens, orchestral music from The Damnation of Faust and Romeo and Juliet, and the completely insane Grande Symphonie funebre et triumphale. Davis achieved his reputation as a conductor as a Berlioz specialist, and he proves an expert advocate on behalf of this stimulating, bizarre, and totally original genius.

This is a delightful recording from a conductor more closely allied than any other to Berlioz's music. With Berlioz the devil is always in the detail; he was an extraordinary orchestrator and capable of writing unidiomatically for instruments–especially the woodwinds–in order to get exactly the sound he wanted. Or rather, sounds, for the whole texture is made up of many layers. Davis understands this as if by instinct, and draws some beautiful playing from the instrumentalists without ever losing sight of the whole picture. It has been said that the French style of phrasing is all foreplay and no climax: the singers bring this teasing quality to their long, flowing lines but with a charmingly English home-counties blush too. Elsie Moris's light tone is a perfect match for Peter Pears' cool, silvery voice in this respect - and the choir too makes a good full sound without ever getting too heavy. The two discs also include some other gems from the pen of this most idiosyncratic of composers.

The epic tale of the fall of Troy haunted Berlioz from childhood and inspired some of his most passionately dramatic, richly colorful music. This is Colin Davis's second recording of Les Troyens, following his (out-of-print) 1969 version. Magnificent though it was, some reckoned that reading lacked something in zip. Here, however, such reservations could never apply. Recorded across several lavishly praised concert performances in London in December 2000, this Troyens has an extraordinary electricity and rhythmic drive.

I am familiar with half a dozen recordings of this wonderful seasonal work but invariably return to two favourites. I dismiss Matthew Best's curiously pallid and far too anglicised version and turn to the Inbal recording from 1989,which is tenderly conducted and benefits from two very different but very beautiful voices in John Aler's vibrant Narrator and Stafford Dean's darkly intense Herod but unfortunately Margaret Zimmermann completely lacks the delicacy and nuance that both Anne Sofie von Otter and Janet Baker bring to the Holy Mother, being thick and clumsy of tone with too pronounced a vibrato and very little variety in her expression.

Kiri Te Kanawa does well by these songs, avoiding the billowing excesses of sentiment that in other hands (or vocal chords) can make them sound much too soggy. Although Berlioz gathered them all together under the present title, all of the songs were composed at different times for different singers, so they aren't really a cycle at all. I seldom listen to all of them at once, and you should feel free to take them in any order that suits you. "The Death of Cleopatra" is an early cantata that perfectly suits Jessye Norman's stately delivery. She's always at her best playing royalty, and if they're dying in mortal agony, so much the better.

Claudio Abbado’s 1981 performance of Berlioz’s Te Deum for three choruses and pipe organ easily outranks the handful of widely-available recordings of the work. Abbado’s closest competitor is 1969’s Sir Colin Davis with similar London forces on Philips, but Davis’ tenor soloist does not have the solid heroic quality of Mexican tenor Francisco Araiza, and Davis’ choirs are a little more recessed (although Abbado’s is not miked particularly close either), in particular the almost lost sound of Davis’ boys choirs which cut through forcefully in Abbado. In addition, Abbado moves purposefully forward through Berlioz’s treacherous choral/orchestral writing, whereas Davis takes his time, perhaps allowing more time for climactic build-up; however, I find Berlioz’s talent with choral writing was not his particular forte as it is not particularly melodic or thoughtful for singers, so I appreciate Abbado’s fluid, forward momentum.