Mark Elder

Belisario is, quite simply, one of Donizetti’s finest achievements. Dating from the high watermark of Donizetti’s maturity, with its premiere in 1836 (the year after the debut of Maria Stuarda in Milan and Lucia di Lammermoor in Naples), Belisario proved a triumph on stages throughout the 19th century. Yet, incredibly, it is little known today. The libretto, by Salvadore Cammarano (who collaborated with Donizetti on Lucia di Lammermoor), tells the moving and typically complicated story of the 6th century Byzantine general. Falsely accused by his wife, Antonina, of killing their son, he was blinded and exiled as his punishment. Only the recognition by his daughter, Irene, that her father’s former captive, Alamiro, was her long-lost brother restores Belisario’s reputation; tragically, too late to save his life.

This is a relatively new venture for the outstandingly imaginative recording outfit that is Opera Rara. The label's fifty-fourth recording sees them venturing on an uncompleted work by Donizetti, the composer they love the most. The composer had decamped from Naples to Paris when the censors, on the king’s personal instructions, banned his opera Poliuto.

Fantasio is considered one of Offenbach’s most beautiful and refined works. A heady cocktail of charm, gracefulness and gentle melancholy, of bad-tempered jokes and poetry, Fantasio marks the crucial step in Offenbach’s path towards The Tales of Hoffmann. Among the least known of Offenbach’s works it received only 10 performances following its very brief run in Paris in 1872 before it was dropped from the repertoire. This recording marks the world premiere studio recording of the complete opera using the new critical edition by Jean-Christophe Keck.

Imelda de'Lambertazzi (1830) was written just before Donizetti's first great international success, Anna Bolena, and it remains one of his many operas that has never made it into the repertoire. In his illuminating program notes, Jeremy Commons argues that Imelda was probably Donizetti's most forward-looking, even avant-garde opera; the composer was determined to create music that matched the demands of the drama, and therefore ignored many of the operatic conventions audiences had come to expect. It's no surprise, then, that it was badly received, and has rarely been revived.

Donizetti considered Dom Sébastien, Roi de Portugal (1843), his final completed opera written for the Paris Opéra, to be his masterpiece. In spite of its relative obscurity, on the basis of this recording, one is inclined to agree with him. The opera has several attributes that in the past have proved to be obstacles to its popularity. The first is its length – it's in five substantial acts and lasts three hours, but that's not so onerous for contemporary audiences accustomed to Wagner and Strauss. Besides, the composer created an abbreviated version for Viennese audiences, who at that time wanted to be out of the theater by 10 p.m., and that version could be used if necessary.

Semiramide, based on a play by Voltaire about an ancient Assyrian queen, was Rossini's last Italian opera. Some five hours long in performance, it has always been subject to cuts from producers worried that it was a butt-breaker, but Rossini insisted that it be performed as written. He was right: its massive two acts have a logic and flow that do not flag. Despite its size and difficulty (check the hefty list of sponsors and patrons in the booklet), the opera is being revived increasingly often. The work has been called the last Baroque opera, with its tragic plot from antiquity encrusted with glittering, highly ornamented arias, and you might suppose that a performance stands or falls with the singers. This version certainly offers strong ones, including the superb pair of sopranos Albina Shagimuratova in the title role and Daniela Barcellona in the travesti or cross-dressing role of the commander Arsace.

The Busoni concerto, with its five movements, choral finale and a length of over 70 minutes, is surely the most grandiose ever written. But this is no over-ambitious monster; Busoni was one of the greatest pianists the world has known, but he was also a great intellectual with very strong views on art and culture. This work is the masterpiece of his middle years, more of a symphony in the breadth and scope of its ideas, but at the same time almost casually requiring the most formidable technical ability from the soloist. There is no doubt that this is one of music's major neglected masterpieces.

Verdi's tragic masterpiece is elegantly updated by director Tom Cairns in this 'fresh and thrillingly unfamiliar' (Independent) Glyndebourne production, in which Violetta's death is cast as an idée fixe, creating a liberating framework that is well supported by Hildegard Bechtler's semi-abstract designs. Described as a soprano of 'huge presence, compelling to watch', Venera Gimadieva is 'thrilling' (Guardian) in her company debut as the doomed courtesan, well matched by Michael Fabiano's sharply suited and 'robustly-sung' Alfredo (Financial Times), with Tassis Christoyannis delivering an imposing performance as the formidable Germont père. Conductor Mark Elder reveals his mastery of the opera's dramatic shape, coaxing each and every nuance out of the London Philharmonic Orchestra to create beautifully stylish music-making.

The original version of Simon Boccanegra, first performed in 1857, is a masterpiece of concision and vocal delivery, with many important differences from the later 1881 version, including one of Verdi’s most innovative central finales. Sir Mark Elder leads a star cast including Eri Nakimura as Amelia, Iván Ayón-Rivas as her lover Gabriele, William Thomas as Fiesco and the young Argentinian baritone Germán Enrique Alcántara in the title role.

Coming in at a tidy three hours and eight minutes, Donizetti’s huge Les Martyrs, composed (or adapted) for Paris in 1840, is here presented in its fullest conceivable form, including ballet and many passages cut right after the first performances. The opera was a reworking of his 1838 Poliuto, composed for the San Carlo in Naples, which had been banned by the king himself, since Christian martyrdom under the Romans was found unpleasant by the censors and the king was devoutly religious.