In my review, elsewhere
on this site, of the latest studio
recording of this opera (EMI and featuring
Alagna, Gheorghiu etc.) I took mild
issue with Caruso’s claim that all that
was needed for this opera was ‘the four
greatest singers in the world’. My point
being as to the number, as I believe
that the part of Ferrando, sung here
by the Greek-born Nicola Moscana, is
as important as the other four principals,
a point also made by Tully Potter in
his sleeve note. Given the vocal demands
on the soloists it is no great surprise
that in only one post-Second World War
recording of the work, that under Serafin
on DG, are all from one country, in
that case Italy. In the EMI recording
there is a Franco-Italian tenor, a Romanian
soprano, an American baritone, a Russian
mezzo and an Italian bass. This cast
is equally polyglot but there is the
subtle difference, all were used to
singing their role on stage, under the
same conductor as here, at the New York
‘Met’ during this period and were fully
immersed in their parts.
In this very strong
cast I must start by focusing on the
male and female leads. The Manrico of
the Swede Jussi Björling is sung
with elegant and beautiful lyric tenor
tone, and characteristic taste in phrasing,
whilst having plenty of heft for the
dramatic outbursts. His only rival on
disc in the totality of these vocal
virtues is Carlo Bergonzi on the DG
issue. Björling is by turn ardent
in his song to Leonora (CD 1 tr. 8),
loving and concerned towards the gypsy
he believes to be his mother (CD 1 trs.
14-16) and suitably heroic in ‘Ah, si
ben mio’ and ‘Di quella pira’ (CD 2
trs 6-7). As his lover, Leonora, the
Croatian Zinka Milanov gives as near
an ideal interpretation, a slight sketchiness
in coloratura apart, as one could wish
for. Its strengths lie in the manner
of the approach to notes, the support
of the voice in legato (CD 1 tr 5),
with long arching phrases and subtle
vibrato all aiding creation of the character,
by vocal means alone. In this latter
respect she is matched by the Italian
Fedora Barbieri as Azucena. One of a
line of great Italian mezzos, no longer
extant, who had this music in their
blood, her ‘stride la vampa’, with unforced
resonant chest notes (CD 1 tr. 11),
moves easily and swiftly (tr. 12) to
a more lyric, but still dramatic tone,
expressing the gypsy’s changing mood
in a most impressive way. This is also
true of her performance in the last
scene (CD 2 trs. 14-17), including a
formidably impressive ‘Ai nostri monti’
and later in the concluding declamatory
passage as she tells the Count that
he has just killed his own brother.
If the two lower male singers are not
quite of the standard of the other principals,
it is merely that the great is the ultimate
enemy of the good, or, as here, very
good. As the Count, the American baritone
Leonard Warren is lyrical in timbre,
but there are times when he is a little
strained by the tessitura and when I
wished he would field more weight and
colour to his tone, as in ‘Il balen’
(CD 1 tr. 18). I would have appreciated
more sap in Moscana’s steady and expressive
voice as Ferrando. Neither singer is
a weak link in the recording nor is
the under-rated conductor, Renato Cellini,
who gives a well paced and phrased performance.
Inevitably, given the date of the recording
and before completeness became ‘de rigueur’,
there are ‘theatre cuts’ as was the
practice at the ‘Met’ in that period.
There are no second verses or cabalettas
and at a total timing for the opera
of around 116 minutes, it is 10 minutes
less than the ‘cut’ Serafin (DG), whilst
the Domingo and Leontyne Price, under
Mehta, the best ‘complete’ recording
(RCA), runs to 136 minutes.
There is a bonus filler
of 18 minutes of Milanov singing six
Yugoslav songs; her first recordings,
made in 1944. These are of no compositional
distinction but do allow us to hear
the great soprano in another oeuvre.
However, compared to the Trovatore the
recordings are lacking in depth and
presence. Mark Obert- Thorn’s remastering
of the Trovatore is excellent with clarity,
warmth and presence being the relevant
adjectives; the voices are forward and
the orchestra well balanced in an open
airy acoustic. The results are excellent
even in mono.
This outstanding recording,
superbly restored, represents the regular
fare on offer at the ‘Met’ in the early
post Second World War period. Verdi
singing of this calibre is no longer
to be heard anywhere in the world and
the performance deserves to be in the
collection of any Verdi enthusiast or
lover of great singing. Its modest price
is an added bonus for both the affluent
and the impecunious.
Robert J Farr
see also
review by Tony Haywood