Sir Thomas Allen is held in great affection in the UK, and from this disc it is easy to see why. The more
‘poppy’ final tracks - standard additions in compilations of
this ilk - are much more than an addendum, Allen acting as the
story-teller par excellence in the Carousel excerpt,
completely at home. It is with Korngold that he opts to end,
however - Fritz’s Song from Die tote Stadt - a
glowing, autumnal close that leaves a lingering sense of satisfaction
after the disc stops playing. It is helped in this case also
by the ethereal ladies voices of the excellent Geoffrey Mitchell
Choir.
The earlier items are magnificently chosen to give not
only an overview of Allen favourites, but also to give a balanced
selection of favourites. The decision to start with the Faust
excerpt as opposed to the more obvious second track (‘Largo al factotum’) is an interesting one, and
one that works well. It immediately establishes Allen’s refulgent
tone and gorgeous sense of line, his sensitivity to mood changes
(quite quick in this short aria) and his natural and accurate
way with the text.
The ‘Largo al factotum’, bubbly as champagne, is despatched
with almost superhuman confidence, even more than Mark Stone’s
cocksure Barber at ENO recently (http://www.musicweb-international.com/SandH/2005/Jan-Jun05/barber1602.htm ). The words seem less gabbled with Allen, and I like
the way Allen is distanced at the start with his ‘La la la lera’s,
as if he’s walking onstage.
Talking of Almaviva-like frolickery, Figaro is
next, the orchestra miraculously on the ball in the tricky accompaniment
to the recit before the aria. Allen is remarkably dramatically
secure - here and everywhere on the disc - clearly enjoying
himself.
Mozart and Wagner make firm bedfellows, and Wolfram’s
‘Wie Todesahnung’ from Tannhäuser follows on marvellously,
the one illuminating the other. Trombones are gorgeously crepuscular
and captured perfectly in the Couzens’ superb recording. Allen’s
legato is a model at ‘O du mein holder Morgenstern’ - here,
of course, in English – ‘Look down, oh gentle evening star’.
There is a simply gorgeous pianissimo in the orchestra at the
end, yet it is Allen who remains in the memory. This
is great singing. Wolfram’s aria describing the nature of Love,
‘Blick’ ich umher’, heard later in the recital occupies the
same hallowed ground.
Interestingly the one-lined Lisa in the Queen of Spades
excerpt is not credited, but one assumes it to be Janice Watson,
who appears twice later. This flows well, its yearning quality
contrasting with the swaggering Drinking Song from Thomas’
Hamlet. Again there are solo lines, not emanating from
Allen, that are uncredited - here the parts of Marcellus and
Horatio. Joyous trumpets launch this orgy of fun.
The interaction of Allen with warm-voiced bass Bradley
Sherratt in the Luisa Miller excerpt - which includes
the aria ‘Sacra la scelta’ - is gripping; Allen shapes the aria
affectionately.
Interesting that Chandos put ‘Billy in the Darbies’ between
Bizet and Johann Strauss II. The Bizet flowers into real lyricism
but it is the Billy Budd fragment that marks the true
climax of the disc. Allen takes you right into Britten’s elusive
world, the excerpt fading back into the silence from whence
it came.
Of course it is traditional to end recitals of this ilk
with more ‘fun’ fare, and so we launch now into a sequence of
lighter pieces. The ‘Watch Duet’ from Fledermaus sees
everyone concerned at home, vocal roulades glittering ... and
this time we know he’s with Janice Watson! Similar compliments
could be heaped on the sweet Cavalryman Duet from The
Merry Widow or the long (7’11) soliloquy from Carousel;
the latter previously discussed above.
It is difficult to imagine a finer tribute to one of
the UK’s finest singers. And there are few better ways of spending
seventy two minutes and 29 seconds than listening to this recital
straight through. I do suggest you test the truth of this statement.
Colin Clarke