Are the Agamemnons the most dysfunctional family in opera? In
                revenge for Agamemnon's murder/sacrifice of his daughter, his
                wife
                    Klytämnestra and her lover Aegisthus murder him in the bath
                    and claim the throne. Strauss's opera then opens with Klytämnestra
                    and Agamemnon's children in disarray: Orestes in exile, Chrysothemis
                    yearning for a full womanly life free from such blood-stained
                    horrors and Elektra hell-bent on vengeance and arguably mad. 
                
                 
                
                
                Elektra first appears skulking outside the royal palace trying to
                    comprehend Agamemnon's downfall. All her energies, her whole
                    world, are channelled towards matricide. And this is the
                    tragedy of Elektra: there is nothing else supporting her
                    character beyond all-consuming hatred and revenge. Her success
                    is also her total collapse. In this respect Elektra over-amplifies
                    human nature, revealing truth, not only in the emptiness
                    of vengeance but also, arguably, single-mindedness itself.
                    Have you ever vigorously pursued a goal, attained it and
                    been left with a hollow feeling?
                
                 
                
                Archive broadcasts often unearth hidden treasures, and here
                    we have a great, forgotten soprano in Gerda Lammers. Born
                    in Berlin
                    1915, Lammers joined Kassel opera company in 1955. Described
                    by Regina Resnik as "a large woman, sort of square",
                    Lammers was at first sight too plain to be the obvious star
                    lead. Legend has it that Metropolitan Opera manager Rudolf
                    Bing mistook Lammers for a cleaning lady when she first arrived
                    for rehearsals. 
                
                 
                
                But Lammers' Elektra was, according to Lord Harewood, in
                    a bonus track on this set, "transcendent". She
                    was a late replacement for an ill Christine Goltz but came
                    to the Royal Opera knowing
                    the role well. Lord Harewood recalls Lammers falling down
                    during rehearsals. The stage-crew rushed forward to help
                    her but she assured them it was deliberate and part of her
                    performance.
                
                 
                
                Resnik remembered Lammers’ Elektra as "more innocent, warmer
                    than most (making) Elektra's revenge seem more justified.
                    The turmoil was seething inside her. It only came out in
                    the end". Further, "she made one understand the
                    drama. Because of her innate sympathy, she actually suggested
                    that some rapport with her mother might be possible. That
                    heightened the tension".
                
                 
                
                Lammers’ metallic soprano is shorn of opulence, being somewhat heady
                    and hardish, with the text admirably clear. It is hardly
                    a conventionally beautiful sound but is capable of beauty
                    and warmth, especially in the ironically chilling scene where
                    Elektra promises the hapless Chrysothemis sisterly affection
                    in return for help in murdering their mother! The listener
                    is aware of a narrow, not unpleasing, vibrato in Lammers’ opening
                    lines which together with a dark colouring underlines the
                    raddled and unbalanced nature of Elektra’s character. Yet
                    this vibrato reduces considerably as the voice opens upwards: “…rings
                    um dein Grab”. Overall, the voice is well placed for Elektra. 
                
                 
                
                It would be easy to write an essay about Elektra's opening
                    Monologue here, such is the detail and sweep of drama unearthed
                    by
                    Lammers and Kempe. Listen to how the music slows and settles
                    into a deep moan from the tubas before Elektra sings "Agamemnon!
                    Agamemnon!" in her opening monologue. And Lammers’ succinct
                    response gives natural and intelligent shape to both the
                    words and the drama. She rings out "Agamemnon! Vater!" and
                    then powers down so that "..zeig dich deinem Kind!" softens
                    and slowly melds into the most gorgeous response from the
                    violins, so lyrical under Kempe. Next hear how Lammers’ tone
                    is edged with viciousness, almost shrewish, as she sings
                    how Elektra will slaughter the royal horses and dogs at her
                    father's grave. Then she lightens and lilts rhythms with
                    obvious care, joining in the orchestra’s joyous anticipatory
                    dance.
                
                 
                
                The rest of the cast are fine but have been bettered elsewhere.
                    Milinkovic is a notable Erda for Keilberth in the recent
                    Testament 1955
                    Siegfried set but misses the wretched intensity of Varnay
                    (Böhm DVD) or Rysanek despite theatrical moans and groans.
                    This Klytämnestra sings beautifully enough but is hardly
                    the tormented walking corpse. Some top notes are effortful
                    for Müller-Bütow's Chrysothemis, as Michael Kennedy points
                    out in the booklet notes, but she does convey the slightly
                    hysterical edge to the character. Otakar Kraus is a warm
                    and emotional Orestes: more loving brother than impervious
                    soldier. 
                
                 
                
                In the final scene I was most interested in how Kempe markedly
                    drops both tempo and temperature as Elektra sings "Can I not
                    hear it? / Not hear the music? / It comes from myself",
                    the ensuing waltz not mad, but loving and tender, emphasising
                    the interior drama and the light soon to be ended. The orchestra
                    then builds a frenzy towards a scream from the trumpets following "… vir
                    Vollbringenden" that almost rival the Vienna Philharmonic
                    under Sinopoli.
                
                 
                
                The recorded sound is mostly very good with voices not too
                    far forward and orchestral detail surprisingly clear for
                    such an old
                    recording. Crescendi would obviously have more impact in
                    the flesh and the somewhat recessed timps and brass add to
                    the overall transparency. Unfortunately the sound is seriously
                    flawed by a major dropout in the crucial final moments just
                    before Elektra sings "Be silent and dance ..." with
                    weight and colour draining out of the acoustic. Lammers'
                    turmoil, that Resnik said came out so strongly in this tragic
                    culmination of Strauss’s incredible opera, is thereby compromised.
                
                 
                
                The booklet contains a libretto with English translation and an informative
                    essay which sensibly focuses on the performance and artists. 
                
                 
                
                This set will happily sit alongside Mitropoulos (1957 Orfeo) and Beecham
                    (1947 Myto) as a fine historic Elektra. Every opera
                    collection should have several Elektras! For unhinged
                    mixtures of passion, power, and the unleashing of both the
                    neurotic and psychotic within extraordinary, almost overpowering,
                    recorded sound I keep returning to Sinopoli.
                
                 
                
                An endnote: critic Martin Bernheimer points out in his Opera magazine
                    article on Lammers that her Elektra never prefigured an international
                    career or many recordings. Lammers was engaged for guest
                    appearances in some major houses but remained based in Kassel,
                    where she died, almost unreported in January 1993.
                
                 
                
                (I wish to thank Martin Bernheimer for kind permission to use some
                    facts from his article on Gerda Lammers which was published
                    in the November 2005 edition of Opera.)
                
                 
                
                    David Harbin