The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh and the Maiden 
                  Fevronia - to give the opera its full and cumbersome title 
                  - was the last of his stage works that Rimsky-Korsakov saw performed; 
                  the later Golden Cockerel ran into censorship problems 
                  and was not given until after his death. It is the composer’s 
                  greatest work in the genre and was probably expected by him 
                  to be his swan-song. Into it he pours all his fascination with 
                  nature and spirituality. It matters not that the plot itself, 
                  a curious mélange of Russian history and mythology, makes 
                  no real sense. We accept similarly nonsensical admixtures in 
                  the case of Parsifal. The comparison with Wagner is not 
                  at all inappropriate. Both works - neither were called operas 
                  by their composers - concern a protagonist who saves a spiritually 
                  dedicated people through a combination of divine intervention 
                  and trust in the healing powers conveyed by natural forces. 
                  The music, which unlike most previous Russian operas runs continuously 
                  and is through-composed, also recalls Wagner in places, particularly 
                  in the opening where the influence of the Forest murmurs 
                  from Siegfried and the Good Friday music from 
                  Parsifal is felt in writing of sublime delight. This 
                  is enhanced by the superbly refined orchestration that Rimsky 
                  provides. 
                    
                  This new recording makes the third modern recording of the work 
                  in the catalogue - the old Melodiya recording under Nebolsin 
                  from 1956 is in mono, disastrous in a work as finely textured 
                  in orchestration as this - all derived from live performances 
                  over the last fifteen years. Of those three recordings that 
                  from Fedoseyev on Koch Schwann is ruled completely out of court 
                  by the swingeing cuts which the conductor inflicts on the score, 
                  amounting to about an hour of music - that is, about a third 
                  of the total is missing. The performance of what is left does 
                  not begin to compensate for the massacre. The conductor in his 
                  booklet states that the excisions made for the Bregenz Festival 
                  production on which the recording is based “chiefly eliminated 
                  repeats, often in the large tableaux”. Even were that 
                  strictly true - and it most certainly is not - the wanton interference 
                  with the composer’s intended proportions would rule this 
                  version out of court despite some fine individual performances, 
                  the most integrated orchestral playing (from the Vienna Symphony 
                  Orchestra) and a very good recording. 
                    
                  The only real competitor to this set is therefore Gergiev, from 
                  his Philips series of Russian operas recorded live at the Mariinsky 
                  Theatre with his Kirov Opera forces, but a comparison of that 
                  recording with this Cagliari one reveals some surprisingly poor 
                  sound in St Petersburg with the voices dominating in a rather 
                  unresonant theatre acoustic. Nor is the balance of advantage 
                  in the performances as one-sidedly in favour of the Kirov set 
                  as one might perhaps expect. The orchestral playing from the 
                  Cagliari orchestra is very good in the atmospheric opening nature 
                  music, and is not at all disadvantaged by comparison with the 
                  Kirov forces. The players under Vedernikov sound well drilled, 
                  and at a marginally slower tempo make more of the showpiece 
                  interlude The Battle near Kerzhenets than the rather 
                  over-excited Kirov players under Gergiev. It is not clear what 
                  sort of warfare Gergiev has in mind, but surely horses never 
                  charged at this sort of speed. 
                    
                  Galina Gorchakova as Fevronia in St Petersburg sounds blustery 
                  and over-enthusiastic (in the wrong sense) by comparison with 
                  Monogarova here. At the time of the first performance Rimsky-Korsakov 
                  was criticised for his choice of a dramatic soprano to depict 
                  this “light, ethereal, disembodied” character. Mongarova 
                  produces just the right sort of tone. In the opening scenes 
                  her cries of Aou! display a beautifully shaded diminuendo 
                  as Rimsky requests, an effect that Gorchakova hardly hints at. 
                  Unfortunately with the entry of her future lover Vsevolod the 
                  emotional temperature is lowered, for Panfilov is much less 
                  heroic-sounding than Yuri Masurin at the Kirov. His over-precise 
                  phrasing lacks warmth, and when his fellow-hunters arrive he 
                  is almost drowned by the offstage chorus. In the brief closing 
                  scene, Hakobyan is not as firm as his Kirov counterpart. 
                    
                  The Second Act opens with a fair-tide scene which in some ways 
                  - particularly the sometimes startling juxtaposition of rhythms 
                  - anticipates the work of Rimsky’s pupil Stravinsky in 
                  Petrushka less than a decade later. Here in Cagliari 
                  the drawbacks of a live theatre recording are evident, with 
                  unrhythmic sounds of crowds milling and bustling around the 
                  stage obscuring the music. Gergiev overcomes this with his very 
                  forward reading which underlines the parallels with Stravinsky 
                  but at the same time loses some of Rimsky’s more subtle 
                  touches. Vedernikov here, with his more recessed sound, gets 
                  more light and shade into the music. The same sound allows more 
                  of the music to be obscured by the onstage noise, and his singers 
                  in the various small roles of market traders, buskers and beggars 
                  are less characterful than with Gergiev - although the fine 
                  voice of Dettori deserves a mention. The bear-tamer and the 
                  ballad-singer both sound much younger in St Petersburg, but 
                  the accompaniment to the ballad-singer’s third verse with 
                  its pizzicato strings is much clearer in Cagliari; it 
                  is quite inaudible at the Kirov. Vedernikov also appreciates 
                  the string imitations of the sound of the gusli in the links 
                  between the verses, where Gergiev’s players sound rather 
                  ordinary. Gubsky as the drunkard who assumes the principal male 
                  role in some of the closing scenes, although somewhat dry in 
                  tone, is every bit as good as the character tenor of Nikolai 
                  Putilin at the Kirov. Vladimir Galusin on the Fedoseyev set 
                  produces more ingratiating tone than either although he suffers 
                  most heavily from the cut text employed. The Cagliari chorus 
                  cope well with Rimsky-Korsakov’s ingenious and tricky 
                  choral writing, especially in the scene when the invading Tartars 
                  interrupt the reception of Fevronia into the city. Gilmanov 
                  and Naumenko as the two Tartar chiefs are more menacing and 
                  villainously impressive than the two rather woofy basses at 
                  the Kirov. At the end of the Act, as Fevronia prays for a miracle 
                  to save Kitezh, Gorchakova at the Kirov sounds somewhat backwardly 
                  placed on the stage. Monogarova here is far more impressively 
                  transported, and conveys the real feeling that her confidence 
                  in divine intervention might prove to be justified. 
                    
                  The opening of the Third Act clearly demonstrates Rimsky-Korsakov’s 
                  debt to Mussorgsky, with the choral writing in particular recalling 
                  the death scene from that opera. The basically bass voice of 
                  Hakobyan - in what is admittedly a rather low-lying baritone 
                  part - cannot avoid a sense of strain in his upper register 
                  here. On the other hand Kazakov is more dominating and noble 
                  as the Prince of Kitezh than Gergiev’s rather gritty Nikolai 
                  Ohotnikov. Although the Page of Gulordava is very feminine and 
                  is not at all distanced when she is supposedly up on a watchtower 
                  looking out on the devastation of the land, she sings most beautifully 
                  in her heartfelt lament. Again Panfilov rather lets the side 
                  down with his decidedly unheroic address to his soldiers as 
                  he leads them out to battle against the Tartars. In the second 
                  scene, with the prince killed in battle, it falls to Gubsky 
                  to take over as the leading male protagonist. His voice displays 
                  a considerable degree more strength in the first of his lengthy 
                  duets with Fevronia. 
                    
                  By the beginning of the final Act, with the Tartar invaders 
                  miraculously foiled, the dramatic action of the plot of Kitezh 
                  is effectively completed, as in Wagner’s Parsifal. 
                  All that remains is a lengthy series of resolutions between 
                  the principal characters including Panfilov as the prince, now 
                  conveniently returned as a ghost. After an impressive mad scene 
                  for Gubsky and a sort of transfigured Good Friday spell 
                  beautifully sung by Monogarova, we are introduced to Alkonost 
                  the bird of death and Sirin the bird of joy, both firmly sung 
                  here if without any hint of mystery, and re-introduced to Panfilov, 
                  who sounds somewhat refreshed by his new status as a ghost although 
                  his voice remains resolutely unheroic. The chorus sing with 
                  proper fervour in the final scene, and it is a reflection on 
                  the care with which this performance has been prepared that 
                  a clearly incorrect note in the choral soprano part (at track 
                  9, 5:45) in the vocal score published in 1962 has been amended 
                  - a similar alteration is made by Gergiev and Fedoseyev. In 
                  this final scene there is a passage which could be dangerously 
                  anticlimactic, as Fevronia dictates a lengthy letter of forgiveness 
                  to Kuterma - Fedoseyev unpardonably cuts the whole of this section 
                  - but which in the right hands can be as effective as the similar 
                  scene of reconciliation in Janáček’s Jenůfa. 
                  Gorchakova for Gergiev is a little blustery here, but Monogarova 
                  is ideally simple and the result is most touching. Although 
                  at the very end the recorded balance in St Petersburg gives 
                  more presence to the chorus than here in Cagliari, the sound 
                  remains rather forward and blatant. 
                    
                  One major complaint about this set is the fact that there is 
                  no text or translation provided either in the booklet or online. 
                  This is simply unacceptable with a work as complex as this. 
                  Not complex in the plot; the basic synopsis which is provided 
                  gives enough information to supply this; but - to take just 
                  one example - the duet in the opening scene between Fevronia 
                  and her prince is not a conventional love-duet in which, to 
                  quote the booklet synopsis, “he is captured by her spirituality 
                  and love of nature. They sing a love duet…”. No, 
                  it is much more than that - their duet is a philosophical colloquy 
                  to rival that in Tristan, where Fevronia speaks of the 
                  way in which she feels drawn to God not through religious ceremonial 
                  but through a communion with the whole of the natural world. 
                  The music closely reflects every word that she sings. Without 
                  a detailed translation the listener is getting much less than 
                  half the story. This production is also available on DVD (Naxos 
                  2.110277-78), and presuming that in that version it comes with 
                  full subtitles it would certainly appear that the viewer would 
                  at least be able to appreciate the subtleties of the score even 
                  if - as appears from the booklet photographs - the rather static-looking 
                  production itself might leave something to be desired.  
                  
                    
                  There have been a number of studio recordings of the suite which 
                  Rimsky extracted from the opera stretching back to the early 
                  stereo Supraphon under Smetaček in the 1960s. These amply 
                  illustrate the richness and depth of the score in a way that 
                  these theatre recordings cannot match. To take just one example 
                  again: the opening scene for Fevronia begins with a series of 
                  birdsong imitations on various woodwind instruments - like Wagner’s 
                  woodbirds. These are generally not of recognisable species but 
                  their songs are repeated to underpin Fevronia’s words 
                  and act as a counterpoint to them. There is one passage for 
                  piccolo which sounds rather like an over-excited quail, and 
                  when this is heard without the voice it is clear in both recordings. 
                  When it recurs - in counterpoint with a clearly recognisable 
                  cuckoo call - one can clearly see it in the vocal score, but 
                  one cannot hear it at all. This simply illustrates the point 
                  that this is a score which cries out for a properly balanced 
                  studio recording with the balances carefully calculated. No 
                  live theatre recording will ever be able to match in sound even 
                  the recordings we have of the suites. 
                    
                  Nevertheless this is a work which should be in the collection 
                  of everyone who is interested in nineteenth century opera, romantic 
                  music, or Russian music of the period. It is quite simply - 
                  to employ a much over-used phrase - a neglected masterpiece. 
                  When you add it to your collection - as you must - you have 
                  only very limited options to choose from. At the cheap Naxos 
                  price you could well invest in this set as a stop-gap until 
                  a studio recording eventually appears, or purchase the DVD - 
                  which would at least give you the English subtitles which you 
                  really need to appreciate the complexities of the action. 
                    
                  Paul Corfield Godfrey