Gracias a la vida – Anne-Lise Polchlopek

It seems not a month goes by without a new recital record from a young artist making an impression. Recently I’ve welcomed recital records from Benjamin Appl, Fatma Said, Harriet Burns, Rachel Fenton and Eva Zalenga , and July saw a recommendation for Julieth Lozano-Rolong’s new disc from Dominy Clements. To this list can now be added the name of French mezzo-soprano, Anne-Lise Polchlopek, a winner of several song competitions, and now an associate artist of the Queen Elizabeth Music Chapel, where this recording was made.

This recital may at first glance appear to be a hotchpotch of different styles, embracing classical Lied, folk and popular music, but Polchlopek somehow integrates these different musical styles into a satisfying whole, and the recital benefits from being listened to at one sitting. It doesn’t get off to the best of starts with her somewhat over-articulated and over-acted singing of Bernstein’s Old Lady Tango (I am easily assimilated) from Candide, but she then sings a beautiful version of Strauss’s Wiegenlied, with a lovely legato line, her mellifluous mezzo wrapping the child in its warm embrace.

From Germany we travel to Spain and France, where we stay for the remainder of the recital. Toldrá is followed by Chaminade, then we switch to guitar accompaniment for Hubert Giraud’s La tendresse, staying with the guitar for an extremely effective performance of Falla’s Nana, from his Siete canciones populares españolas.

We go back to the piano for Fauré’s Les berceaux, in which she builds nicely to the climax, and then we have Messiaen’s early Trois melodies, where she captures to perfection the ecstasy of the writing, especially in the final song, la fiancée perdue.

 These are followed by three songs in a lighter vein by Chaminade, Pauline Viardot and Gerónimo Giménez, all wonderfully characterised. Perhaps incongruously (but somehow it works) Voi che sapete from Mozart’s Le nozze di Figaro acts as a bridge to Michel Polnareff’s Mes regrets, a beautiful song about lost love, which is followed by Fauré’s Toujours.

This in turn is followed by Gérard Jouannest’s La chanson des vieux aimants, with lyrics by Jacques Brel, a song I had previously only known in a version by Judy Collins. Suffice it to say that Polchlopek’s intensely moving performance put any thoughts of Collins out of my mind completely.

Throughout the piano accompaniments of Federico Tibone contribute wonderfully to the success of the disc, as do the guitar accompaniments of Pierre Laniau, who accompanies her on Tamás Méndez’s charming Cucurrucucu paloma, which I seem to remember was a favourite of Nana Mouskouri. He also accompanies her on the Habanera from Bizet’s Carmen and Satie’s La diva de l’empire, though I did feel the Bizet was slightly out of place here, coming, as it did, after the piano accompanied Poulenc Les métamorphoses and before the Satie.

We return to piano accompaniment for Montsalvatge’s Canto negro, which she sings with charm and spirit, relishing the yambambós, as Victoria De Los Angeles did before her.

All three participants come together for the final song, Violetta Parra’s Gracias a la vida, a fitting end to a journey on which Anne-Lise Polchlopek has proved to be a most musical guide. Throughout she clearly and meaningfully enunciates the text, and it is clear she has a rare gift for communication that makes her an ideal recitalist.

Unfortunately, though the notes accompanying the disc are in English, the online texts are only in the original language, French, Spanish, German, or in the case of the Bernstein, English, and translations would have helped for a total appreciation of Polchlopek’s art. However, I thoroughly enjoyed this disc, and I look forward to hearing more of Anne-Lise Polchlopek.

Il Trovatore from the Met with Price and Corelli

If I were to use one word to describe this performance of Il Trovatore from the Met, it would be aggressive. The house was in a high state of excitement as, a few days earlier, Price and Corelli had made their extremely successful house debuts in these same roles to fantastic acclaim, and the audience is ready with its applause from the get-go. The pace is fast and furious, especially in the choruses, which results in them occasionally becoming unstuck.

The singing too is extremely competitive, with little room for subtlety. I don’t know whether it is the recording, or the transfer but the soloists seem to be closely miked, which picks up a vibrato in Price’s voice I hadn’t been aware of before, and for much of the performance she sounds to me as if she is forcing her essentially lyric instrument. Corelli was never the most subtle of artists, but the general air of competitiveness encourages him to belt out his high notes for all he is worth and, it has to be said, the audience go wild for him.

This generally aggressive atmosphere extends to the other soloists too, who, in any case, are less vocally entitled than Price and Corelli. Irene Dalis is perfectly acceptable, and you’d go a long way to hear her like today, but she is honestly second rung, as is Mario Sereni. They are no match for Giulietta Simionato and Ettore Bastianini, who appear on another live recording from the following year, which also features Price and Corelli. This was from the 1962 summer Salzburg Festival, and is no less exciting, but is conducted much more stylishly by Herbert von Karajan. It was enthusiastically reviewed by Simon Thompson, when first issued and is still available from DG as a download, though the CDs have been withdrawn. If you want Price and Corelli in this opera, then it is definitely the one to go for, and Price sounds glorious here and much more relaxed than she was at the Met. With Simionato, arguably the greatest Azucena of her age and Bastianini in fantastic form, this is a set that should be in every Verdi lovers collection.

No doubt others will just get caught up in the excitement of the performance under review from the Met, but I’m afraid I found it rather vulgar, for which the blame should be left squarely on the shoulders of Fausto Cleva, who, time and again, mistakes speed for excitement.

My preference for the opera would still be Karajan’s first studio recording with Callas a non pareil of a Leonora, but the live Salzburg recording is almost as good, if without the precision of the studio one, with all the principals, including Price and Corelli, in fabulous voice. Truly that one was the night to remember.

Opus Two celebrates Stephen Sondheim

I’ve loved the music of Stephen Sondheim ever since I was introduced to the LP of the Broadway recording of A Little Night Music by an old friend, my musical mentor, back when I was in my early twenties. Though Sondheim is known for his lyrics, it was the swirlingly Romantic score that I first responded to, and it is fitting that the first piece  on this disc is the Suite from that musical, in an arrangement, like the other pieces on this disc, by Eric Stern, who worked closely with Sondheim on the 1984 revival of Pacific Overtures. Since then, Stern has conducted the second year of Sunday in the Park with George, and also worked on Into the Woods, several productions of Follies, a revival of Merrily We Roll Along at the Kennedy Centre, and many more concerts and birthday celebrations around the world. His last conversation with Sondheim was about the Little Night Music suite, which Sondheim enthusiastically endorsed, though unfortunately the rest were written after his passing.

Opus Two are violin and piano duo, William Terwilliger on the violin and Andrew Cooperstock on the piano. They are joined by soprano Elena Shaddow for I remember, from the TV musical Evening Primrose, and by baritone Andrew Garland for Finishing the Hat, from Sunday in the Park with George, though, truth to tell, neither performance eclipsed memories of other performances of these songs, and I wondered at their inclusion. On the other hand, the addition of Beth Vandeborgh’s cello to the arrangement of Every Day a Little Death from A Little Night Music adds a certain expressive depth to the song. I found it one of the most successful pieces on the disc.

For those who know and love Sondheim’s scores, I would suggest that this disc is self-recommending. The arrangements are brilliantly done, though there is just the whiff of Palm Court about them. I could imagine them being played at the Waldorf Hotel, whilst enjoying tea, not that there is anything wrong with that, of course, and I found the disc hugely enjoyable. In some cases, I know the lyrics so well I could sing along in my mind’s ear, which no doubt added to my enjoyment of them.

It has often been said that Sondheim’s lyrics take precedence over the music, but here, I think, we get the chance to concentrate on Sondheim the composer, and we find how lyrical, in the musical sense, his music is. The only piece I didn’t know was the main title from Alain Resnais’s 1974 film, Stavisky, a short evocative piece, but it too has a tune which lingers in the memory for some time afterwards.

Terwilliger shines in Sorry/Grateful from Company, which is here arranged for solo violin, whilst Cooperstock is given the jazzy Now You Know from Merrily We Roll Along as a piano solo. Then they come together again for the final work, the Fleet Street Suite, which combines themes from Sweeney Todd and closes the recital with the beautifully poetic Johanna, which, in the show, is a moment of calm and pure beauty amidst the turbulence of the rest.

Contents:

Suite from A little Night Music

Not while I’m around (from Sweeney Todd)

Broadway Baby (from Follies)

I remember (from Evening Primrose)

Main Title from Stavisky

Every Day a Little Death (from A little Night Music)

Sorry/Grateful (from Company)

Finishing the Hat (from Sunday in the Park with George)

Now You Know (from Merrily We Roll Along)

Fleet Street Suite (from Sweeney Todd)

Eva Zalenga – Varia bel

Last month I was welcoming a disc of Lieder with various accompaniments by Fatma Said and here we have another for various forces, which, coincidentally, also includes Schubert’s Der Hirt auf dem Felsen.

In April 2024, I welcomed Zalenga’s debut recital on the Hänssler label, and this new recital on the Genuin label is, if anything, even more successful. Variety is the key note of the disc, in the variety of music (from the 18th to the 21st centuries), the variety of styles from the intimate to the more extrovert, and the variety of instruments accompanying the voice, that nonetheless add up to a convincing whole.

We start with a world premiere recording of Ignaz Lachner’s An die Entfernte (In die Ferne) for soprano, violoncello and piano, in which Zalenga charmingly intertwines with the cello of Till Schuler. We stay with the combination of cello and piano for Schubert’s Auf dem Strom. There is just the suspicion of strain in the upper reaches of the song here, a slight impurity that obtrudes on the silvery beauty of the sound, but it is fleeting, and soon evaporates during the next song, Meyerbeer’s haunting Des Schäfers Lied, in which the cello is swapped for Adam Ambarzumjan’s clarinet.

We stick with this combination for Schubert’s more famous Der Hirt auf dem Felsen, which, whilst not plumbing the deeper meanings of the text, as Said and Meyer do in their version, is nonetheless a delightful and charming performance.

In their earlier recital, Zalenga and Tchakarova championed women composers and it is good to see that they do so here too, first with a lovely song by Pauline Viardot-Garcia, in which we return to the combination of soprano, cello and piano, and then, jumping ahead around 100 years to Rebecca Clarke’s arrangement for soprano and violin of Three Irish Folk Songs. The tricky violin part is played by Victoria Wong. These are sung in English, and we stick with English for Arthur Bliss’s Two Nursery Rhymes, the first for soprano, clarinet and piano and the second for soprano and clarinet. Zalenga sings in perfectly accented English, and seems equally at home in French, which is the language of the next group of songs, four miniatures for soprano and violin by Darius Milhaud, Quatre Poèmes de Catulle.   

Finally all the forces come together for the last item, a new arrangement of contemporary composer Isabelle Aboulker’s Je t’aime, which Zalenga brings off with incredible wit, panache and style to bring this excellent recital to a riotous conclusion.

In all, Zalenga proves herself to be a most musical and intelligent singer and I look forward to seeing where her next enterprise will take us. Highly recommended.

Lines of Life – Schubert and Kurtág

 

“I believe that Benjamin is currently the most authentic interpreter of my Hölderin Gesänge.” So writes György Kurtág in the notes accompanying this disc and, as he is also credited as recording producer, I think we can lay claim to their authenticity. Kurtág attended all the sessions, which took place in Budapest, apparently producing over 1,300 recording takes and countless repetitions.

The majority of the Kurtág songs on this disc are a capella. Their range, both vocal and emotional, is wide and they are brilliantly performed by Appl, whose range of expression and ability to meld the wide-ranging melismas in the vocal writing are superb. Indeed the very first song, Circumdederunt, which is in Latin and reminiscent of plainchant, homes in directly on the voice, a peculiarly expressive instrument, capable of harshness when required, as in the words et in trubulatione mea, returning to a beautiful, consoling richness for the remainder of the song. All but one of the Hölderin Gesänge are also unaccompanied and the one that isn’t, unusually has a sort of obligato accompaniment for trombone and tuba. The four Ulrike Schuster songs have an atonal piano accompaniment, which is played here by Pierre-Lauent Aimard.

As an interpreter of contemporary song, then, Appl proves himself to have few equals, but he is also a fine interpreter of Schubert and Brahms, as witness the beautiful versions of the Schubert and Brahms songs included on the disc. As befits a student of Fischer-Dieskau, expression is paramount, but never at the expense of a fine legato line and the beauty of the voce is well caught.

James Baillieu is the fine accompanist for most of the Schubert songs, but in the final two songs, Schubert’s Der Jüngling an der Quelle and Brahms’s Sonntag, Appl is touchingly accompanied by György Kurtág himself, though, it must be admitted, with rather too much pedal.

I found this disc an absorbing and challenging experience and would recommend it to anyone with an adventurous appetite.

The disc finishes with a fascinating eighteen-minute interview in German between Appl and Kurtág, for which an English translation is provided in the accompanying booklet.

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Saimir Pirgu sings operatic arias

Ten years ago I saw Saimir Pirgu as the Duke in the Royal Opera House’s David McVicar production of Rigoletto. Though he looked splendid and dashing, he was utterly charmless and I found his singing stiff and monochromatic. Since then, he seems to have ventured into more dramatic repertoire, and this recital of mostly verismo arias comes as a follow-up to a 2015 album of more lyrical fare, which I haven’t heard.

The present recital was very well received by my colleague, Göran Forsling in October of last year (review) but I’m afraid I can’t join in with his praise. For a start, Pirgu’s basic production is terribly ingolata, so much so that his singing was giving me a sore throat. There is no freedom to the sound and, when I compare him to the greats of the past, from Caruso to Björling to Pavarotti, all I hear is his struggle to get the sound out. There is no ring at the top and the middle voice is forced, resulting in a distressing vibrato. Indeed, he sounds a good deal older than his forty-two years.

Added to that, he doesn’t really do anything with the music and here his conductor, Antonio Fogliani, must take some of the blame, for his conducting is dull and prosaic. Most of the arias on the disc are well known but, with so many other versions out there, this just isn’t competitive.

I tried listening to the recital several times, thinking that maybe it had something to do with my mood, but, no, each time my reactions were the same. I just couldn’t get past Pirgu’s basic vocal production and I found it difficult to relax and enjoy the music. I hate to be so negative, but this is a disc for fans of Pirgu only, if indeed they exist.

Contents.

  1. Puccini: Manon Lescaut – “Indietro!… Guardate, pazzo son” 
    2. Puccini: Tosca – “E lucevan le stelle”
    3. Leoncavallo: Chatterton – “Non saria meglio… Tu sola a me” 
    4. Giordano: Andrea Chénier – “Colpito qui m’avete… Un dì all’azzurro spazio” 
    5. Puccini: Le villi – “Ecco la casa… Torna ai felici dì”
    6. Puccini: Manon Lescaut – “Donna non vidi mai” 
    7. Cilea: Adriana Lecouvreur – “L’anima ho stanca”
    8. Wagner: Lohengrin – “In fernem Land”
    9. Berlioz: La Damnation de Faust – “Nature immense”
    10. Tchaikovsky: Eugene Onegin – “Introduction”
    11. Tchaikovsky: Eugene Onegin – “Kuda, kuda, kuda vi udalilis”
    12. Puccini: Il tabarro –  “Hai ben ragione” 
    13. Bizet: Carmen – “La fleur que tu m’avais jetée”
    14. Puccini: Turandot – “Non piangere, Liù”
    15. Jakova: Skenderbeu – “Kjo zemra ime”
    16. Puccini: Tosca – “Recondita armonia” (with Vito Maria Brunetti (bass))
    17. Giordano: Andrea Chénier – “Come un bel dì di maggio” 
    18. Puccini: Madama Butterfly – “Addio, fiorito asil” 
    19. Giordano: Fedora – “Amor ti vieta”
    20. Sorozábal: La taberna del puerto – “No puede ser”
    21. Puccini: Turandot – “Nessun dorma!”

 

Rachel Fenlon sings and plays Schubert’s Winterreise

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Now here is an extraordinary recording debut. Recordings by female singers of Schubert’s most haunting cycle have been few and far between, those by Lotte Lehmann, Christa Ludwig and Brigitte Fassbaender being the most noteworthy. However, what sets this performance apart from all others is that Rachel Fenlon accompanies herself on the piano in what is surely the first self-accompanied version ever to be recorded.  

According to the notes accompanying this disc, Fenlon bought her first score of Winterreise in the Winter of 2020, when she was living alone in a house at the foot of a large forest outside of Berlin. This was during the dark days of lockdown. She  would often go days and weeks without seeing anyone and over the next two years she learned the work methodically, but also allowing its loneliness, solitude, passionate love and grief to permeate her very soul; and indeed what emerges is a very personal journey, a single-minded vision of the work, if you like, which is not strictly comparable to any other I’ve heard.

Initially, I felt the tempo of the opening Gute Nacht was a little fast (though at 5.38 it clocks in at exactly the same tempo as Fischer-Dieskau’s with Jörg Demus), but thereafter her tempi seemed just right to me. At 74’ Fenman’s is one of the slower recordings out there, though certainly not the slowest. In any case, I was little concerned with questions of tempo, as I became involved in her singular vision of the piece.

It is hard to pin down what makes it so different from any of the many two-handed performances available, but different it undoubtedly is. It is a young person’s interpretation, reminding me that the protagonist is indeed young, and that the pain and disillusionment at the heart of the cycle are those of a young man. Certainly, Fenlon piles on the intensity as the cycle progresses with a performance that is entirely compelling.

I can hear you asking, “Yes, but how does she sing? How does she play?” Well, the answer to that is very well indeed. The voice is naturally a light, bright soprano, but she is not afraid to darken the colour, with occasional plunges into a rasping chest voice and her playing is well up to the task, though it is difficult to separate the playing from the singing, the two being so intrinsically intertwined. I am not saying this is how I would always like to hear the cycle, but this is an impressive recording debut and much more than a gimmick.

What a great work this is and how fascinating it is that it can take such a wealth of different interpretations. In February last year I reviewed a very interesting version in an arrangement for baritone, choir and two accordions, and I recently reacquainted myself with Jonas Kaufmann’s harrowing version with Helmut Deutsch. Rachel Fenlon’s equally harrowing version is quite a different experience, but she is clearly someone to watch.

Go Lovely Rose – The songs of Roger Quilter

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James Gilchrist (tenor) Anna Tilbrook (piano)

The songs of Roger Quilter are not performed as often these days as they once were, which is a shame, because they are beautifully crafted and, though perhaps they don’t probe as deeply into the texts as those of Finzi, Delius and Warlock, they are very rewarding for performers and listeners alike. Quilter had a wonderful gift for melody, but it was always melody put at the service of the poetry and the text is sung more or less as if it were spoken. Having performed many of the songs myself in my youth, I can attest to the fact that they are a gift to the performer.

Rather than give us whole opus numbers, Gilchrist and Tilbrook have chosen songs from his complete oeuvre, with the songs grouped into themes. Thus, we have six Shakespeare songs, drawn from the Op. 6, Op. 23 and Op. 32 sets of Shakespeare settings, five songs associated with flowers (A Floral Tribute), four Folk Song settings (all taken from The Arnold Book of Old Songs), four songs associated with the graveside, and four Songs of Love. The only songs performed as a set are the early German songs, written when Quilter was studying in Frankfurt. These are charming, but slight and give little indication of Quilter’s later, more mature style.

Initially alienated by the rather gruff sound of Gilchrist’s voice in the opening robust Blow, blow, thou winter wind (we are at once aware that this is not the voice of a young man, and indeed Gilchrist was approaching sixty at the time of the recording), I was drawn in by his elegiac delivery of Come away, death, and thereafter, I was less aware of any failing resources. Indeed, in the more gently reflective songs, with which the disc proliferates, Gilchrist is often spellbindingly beautiful, spinning out some lovely pianissimi in such songs as Fear no more the heat of the sun, the famous Now sleeps the crimson petal and the song which gives the collection its name, Go lovely rose. He is admirably supported by Anna Tilbrook, who is an excellent accompanist.

I would not be doing my job as a reviewer if I didn’t point out that there is another similar collection of songs available on the Hyperion label. This was recorded in 1996 by the then much younger John Mark Ainsley with Malcolm Martineau at the piano. Some may prefer Ainsley’s much more forthright manner and fresher timbre, as indeed I occasionally do, especially in songs like Blow, blow, thou winter wind and the ebullient Love’s philosophy, but Gilchrist’s more reflective style has its own rewards, and this is a welcome addition to the Quilter discography

Contents
Shakespeare Songs
Blow, blow, though winter wind, from Three Shakespeare Songs (First Set) Op 6, No 3 (1905)
Come away, death, Op 6 No 1 from Three Shakespeare Songs (First Set) (1905, rev 1906)

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun. from Five Shakespeare Songs (Second Set) Op.23 No 1
Orpheus with his lute. from Two Shakespeare Songs (Fourth Set) Op.32 No 1(1919-20)
O mistress mine, from Three Shakespeare Songs (First Set) Op 6 No 2 (1905, rev 1906)

Under the greenwood tree, from Five Shakespeare Songs (Second Set) (1919)
A Floral Tribute
The Fuchsia Tree, Op.25 No.2 (1923)
Go, Lovely Rose, from Five English Love Lyrics Op.24 No.3 (1922)
A last year’s rose, Op 14 No.3 (1909-10)
Now sleeps the Crimson Petal, Op 3 No 2 91897)
To Daisies from To Julia, Op.8 No 3 (1905)
Folksongs
From The Arnold Book of Old Songs
Barbara Allen, No 13 (c 1921)
Drink to me only with thine eyes, No 1 (c 1921)
My Lady’s Garden, No 10 (c 1942)
The Ash Grove, No 16 (c 1942)
At the Graveside
Autumn Evening Op.14 No.1 (1909-10)
Dream Valley, from Three Songs of William Blake, Op.20 No.1 (1917)
Drooping Wings (1943)
Music, when soft voices die, from Six Songs, Op 25 No.5 (1926)
German Songs
Four Songs of Mirza Schaffy, Op 2 (bef. 1903, rev. 1911)
Songs of Love
Love’s Philosophy, from Three Songs, Op 3 No 1 (1905)
Julia’s Hair from To Julia Op 8, No 5 (1905)
The Maiden Blush from To Julia Op 8, No 2 (1905)
It was a lover and his lass, from Five Shakespeare Songs (Second Set), Op

Welcome Joy – The Corvus Consort

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The subtitle of this disc is A Celebration of Women’s Voices and a celebration it undoubtedly is, not just of the women’s voices who sing on the record, but of the voices of the women composers who make up the lion’s share of the music. Room is found for Gustav Holst, who was a champion of women’s voices and taught at several girls’ schools, most famously at St Paul’s Girls School, where he taught for almost thirty years.

Its centrepiece, and the longest work on the disc, is Elizabeth Poston’s An English Day-Book, which here receives its première recording of this edition. If it is reminiscent of Britten’s A Ceremony of Carols, then that is because it was conceived to complement it by providing a work suitable for use throughout the year. The Day-Book was unpublished at he time of Poston’s death in 1987, but has since been published by the Arts and Education charity, Multitude of Voyces, which specialises in publishing and promoting works by communities historically or currently underrepresented or marginalised. The charity also published the works here by Hilary Campbell, Olivia Sparkhall, Judith Weir and Gemma McGregor. I was particularly taken by Sparkhall’s Lux Aeterna, which is for two choruses, solo soprano and harp and McGregor’s Love was his meaning with its lovely falling harp introduction.

“Welcome Joy”, sing the Corvus Consort at the beginning of this recital and indeed what a joy it is. Imogen Holst’s commission for the 1951 Aldeburgh Festival is a setting of six poems by John Keats, described by Britten as ‘six little treasures’ when he first received them, and, in this joyful performance, it is easy to see why.

This piece, like most of the music on this CD was completely new to me, but I did know Gustav Holst’s Choral Hymns from the Rig Veda (Third Group) from Imogen Holst’s 1968 recording with the Purcell Singers and Ossian Ellis. I am bound to say that I found that recording a mite more atmospheric, especially in the opening Hymn to the Dawn, which has a mystery and magic that is not quite captured in the clearer, more analytical Chandos digital recording.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed this disc of choral music for women’s voices. The work of the Corvus Consort under their conductor, Freddie Crowley can hardly be faulted, with a superb contribution from harpist, Louise Thomson.

Full texts are provided, and the exemplary notes are extensive. A thoroughly enjoyable disc.

Contents

Imogen Holst (1907 – 1984)  Welcome Joy and Welcome Sorrow (1950)

Gustav Holst (1874 – 1934) Two Eastern Pictures (1911)

Choral Hymns from the Rig Veda (Third Group) (1910)

Dirge and Hymneal (1915)

Judith Weir (b.1954) We sekyn here rest (2019)

Hilary Campbell (b. 1983) Our Endless Day (2017)

Elizabeth Poston (1905 – 1987) An English Day-Book  (1966 – 67)

Olivia M. Sparkhall (b. 1976) Lux Aeterna (2018)

Gemma McGregor (b. 1965) Love was his meaning (2018)

Shruti Rajasekar (b. 1996) Ushãs – Goddess of Dawn (2024)

Priestess (2024)

 

Schön ist die Welt on CPO

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Schön ist die Welt was the last in a series of Lehár’s operettas that were premiered in Berlin. Paganini, had met with a somewhat lukewarm reception in Vienna, but had triumphed in Berlin in 1926 , due to the participation of Richard Tauber, and thereafter Lehár wrote the majority of his operettas for Berlin with Tauber in mind for the leading role. Not that Shön ist die Welt, which premiered in 1930, was an entirely new work, it being a re-working of an earlier operetta, Endlich allein, originally performed twelve years earlier, the second act of which Lehár had been particularly proud, as it was more or less through composed with minimal dialogue. This second act, with the addition of a Tauber-lied, is pretty much lifted from the earlier operetta, but the outer acts underwent substantial revisions.

The action takes place in the Swiss Alps, where Crown Prince Georg arrives at an Alpine resort to meet for the first time his fiancée, Princess Elisabeth. However, on the way he stopped to help a girl, whose name he did not discover, mend a puncture and fell madly in love with her. He announces to his father that he will not marry Elisabeth because he loves another. All turns out well when our unwitting hero and heroine go on a hike and get trapped by an avalanche at an Alpine hut and have to spend the night together. Returning the hotel the next morning, Georg discovers that the girl he helped with the puncture is in fact Princess Elisabeth. There is also a sub plot involving Count Sascha and a Brazilian dancer, called Mercedes della Rossa, which gives Lehár the excuse for some Latin American influenced music in the first and third acts. It’s all pretty insubstantial, but it does give rise to some gloriously lyrical music, especially in the second act, which involves just the two leads.The present recording would seem to derive form stage performances as we hear occasional stage noise, though there is precious little sign of any audience. There was a previous recording, also on CPO, (review), which I see is still available as a download. That was on a single CD, but included none of the dialogue, whereas here we get quite a lot of it, which could prove tedious for all but fluent German speakers, and even they could find it a little too much for repeated listening.That said, the sound is excellent and the playing of the Franz Lehár Orchestra under Marius Burkert most stylish. I also enjoyed the contributions of Katharina Linhard and Jonathan  Hartzendorf as the secondary couple, and of Jospeh Terterian as the Jazz Singer. Where I had a problem was with the contributions of the two leads. Thomas Blondelle as Crown Prince Georg has a pleasing light tenor, but he is no Richard Tauber and he is not really up to the operatic demands of Act II. Nor is Sieglinde Feldhofer as the Princess Elisabeth. She has rather too much vibrato for my taste and tends to lunge at her high notes. I couldn’t help thinking what a difference a Schwarzkopf or a Rothenberger would have made.  Elena Mosuc and Zoran Todorovich who sing the roles of Elisabeth and Georg on the other CPO recording I mentioned above, improve on the present two, but they, rather confusingly, sing the secondary couple as well, so there is no doubt that this present recoding is more cohesive.

Nor would I like to give the impression that I didn’t enjoy the set. I did. Very much indeed, despite the less than stellar contributions of the two main leads. Lehár was such a prolific tunesmith, some of the songs were rattling around in my head for days afterwards. It gets a qualified recommendation from me.

Prinzessin Elisabeth – Sieglinde Feldhofer (soprano)

Kronprinz Georg – Thomas Blondelle (tenor)

Der König – Gerd Vogel (baritone)

Mercedes della Rizza – Katharina Linhard (soprano)

Graf Sascha Karlowitz – Jonathan Hartzendorf (tenor)

Herzogin Maria Brankenhorst – Klára Vincze (soprano)

Ein Jazzsinger – Jospeh Terterian (tenor)

Hoteldirektor – Johannes Hubmeir (tenor)

Chor des Lehár Festivals Bad Ischil

Franz Lehár Orchestra/ Marius Burkert