This is the first major release of the Wagner bicentenary 
                  year to come my way, and it’s thrilling. Even more exciting 
                  is the news that it is only the first instalment of a complete 
                  Mariinsky Ring: Rheingold will follow in September 
                  2013, with Siegfried and Götterdämmerung 
                  in 2014. If this instalment is anything to go by then this it’s 
                  going to be a Ring to cherish. 
                    
                  So much about this set works so well, but it makes sense to 
                  begin with the singing. Much of the attention this release gets 
                  will focus on Jonas Kaufmann’s Siegmund, and rightly so 
                  because he is a marvel. He is now at the point of his career 
                  where his voice is perfect for the role of the Wälsung 
                  hero. He combines lyrical beauty with dark, rugged heroism and 
                  a supreme sense of excitement in articulating every phrase. 
                  The baritonal darkness of his voice makes you sit up and take 
                  notice from the very first phrase, and it’s this that 
                  makes his assumption of the role so distinctive. It adds an 
                  even greater layer of pathos to the character’s suffering 
                  while giving Siegmund extra heroic grandeur that makes us root 
                  for him all the more. The excitement is there in his cries of 
                  Wälse! Wälse! and in his ringing excitement 
                  of Wälsungen-Blut that brings down the curtain on 
                  Act 1, but the lyrical beauty of his Winterstürme 
                  is every bit as compelling, as is his lovely song to the sleeping 
                  Sieglinde at the end of Act 2. As important as the vocal beauty, 
                  though, is the thoughtful artistry that underpins everything 
                  he does. Like a lieder singer, he seems to have thought deeply 
                  about the text and each phrase feels laden with meaning, articulated 
                  with clarity and precision. Listen, for example, to the way 
                  in which he grows into his narration of his past in the first 
                  act. The opening phrases seem tentative, even nervous, as if 
                  he is reluctant to share his life story with Hunding, but the 
                  monologue grows like a great arch leading to a final couplet 
                  (Nun weisst du, fragende Frau...) that will break your 
                  heart. Likewise, the entire Todesverkundigung scene grows 
                  in stature from its dream-like beginnings through to a hair-raising 
                  finale, electrified by Kaufmann’s identification with 
                  the text, before subsiding into the peace of Zauberfest. 
                  Kaufmann’s Siegmund is more lyrical than Jon Vickers (Karajan 
                  on DG), more beautiful than Gary Lakes (Levine on DG), more 
                  distinctive than Poul Elming (Barenboim on Warner) and more 
                  heroic than James King (Solti on Decca or Böhm on Philips). 
                  The closest comparison I’ve come across on disc is with 
                  Ramón Vinay (Krauss on Archipel and Keilberth on Testament) 
                  whose dark voice is of a similar hue to Kaufmann’s and 
                  who has a similarly complete identification with the character. 
                  This should be enough to show you that Kaufmann’s Siegmund 
                  is in a very special league indeed, and for his contribution 
                  alone this set is worth the purchase price. 
                    
                  This is far from being a one-man show, though, because the rest 
                  of the cast are just as notable. Anja Kampe’s Sieglinde 
                  develops most movingly as the opera progresses. When she first 
                  appears in Act 1 her primary characteristic is of clarity and 
                  thrilling nobility, as well as beauty of tone that you can take 
                  as read. Her attempt to get Siegmund to remain in the house 
                  of bad luck (So bleibe hier!) made the hairs on my neck 
                  prickle, and she crests the wave of ecstasy in Du bist der 
                  Lenz. However, by the time of Acts 2 and 3 she has assumed 
                  an air of wounded vulnerability, almost broken in Act 3 when 
                  she asks to be left alone. She revives rapidly when she hears 
                  the news of her child, though you’ll hear O herrstes 
                  Wunder sung better from other sopranos. René Pape’s 
                  Wotan is almost as remarkable as Kaufmann’s Siegmund. 
                  He has already recorded roles like Landgrave Herman and King 
                  Heinrich for Barenboim, and his graduation into Wagner’s 
                  most difficult role is a triumph. He has a bewitching beauty 
                  of tone that will win over any listener, but his secret weapon 
                  is the way he sings with a bel canto-like ear for the 
                  long line. This obviously helps to make the farewell very moving, 
                  but it also helps to energise and unify other moments that can 
                  sprawl, most notably the great monologue of Act 2 which ebbs 
                  and flows with a natural air that you seldom hear from other 
                  singers. His interpretation emphasises the warmth of Wotan the 
                  father, and during the moment in Act 3 where he pronounces his 
                  sentence on Brünnhilde you can really sense the character’s 
                  pain, as if he is forcing himself to say the reluctant words. 
                  As that errant daughter, Nina Stemme reminds us that she is 
                  the premier Wagnerian soprano at work today. Her voice has a 
                  grandeur and nobility that lends dignity and stature to the 
                  role of the Valkyrie - it is another reason why the Todesverkundigung 
                  is so thrilling, as is her interaction with her sisters at the 
                  start of Act 3 - and her singing with Pape makes the end of 
                  Act 3 very special. She still manages an element of impetuosity 
                  in her Hojotohos that open Act 2, even if she never sounds 
                  exactly girlish. Mikhail Petrenko is a genuinely malevolent 
                  Hunding. He never falls back on posturing or vocal colour alone, 
                  but uses an edge to his voice to make him sound properly sinister 
                  while remaining exciting at the same time. Ekaterina Gubanova’s 
                  Fricka is noble, dignified and very well sung, if slightly anonymous 
                  in her vocal acting. Furthermore, I have seldom heard a band 
                  of Valkyries sound so convincingly war-like. They sing thrillingly, 
                  but have an excited ring about their voice that never lets you 
                  forget that these are warrior maidens. 
                    
                  Gergiev’s Wagner has not always been well received - his 
                  Ring was slated during its appearances in this country 
                  - but for me this recording shows him as a Wagnerian of importance 
                  and skill. He conducts with an eye on the long view. This works 
                  exceptionally well in Act 1, whose orgasmic climax on the retrieval 
                  of the sword is so powerful because it has been so well prepared. 
                  The same is true for Act 3, which unfolds entirely appropriately, 
                  each scene giving way naturally to the next, though for me it 
                  was marred by a too speedy rendition of the Magic Fire Music 
                  which made the end of the act feel rushed. Only Act 2 felt a 
                  bit episodic, though it’s sometimes hard to make it seem 
                  anything else. He is particularly skilled at judging transitions, 
                  and in most cases they are so powerful because you barely notice 
                  them, a skill surely honed from his vast experience in the theatre. 
                  His tempi don’t tend to draw attention to themselves, 
                  though a few times I noticed him holding onto a moment for a 
                  fraction longer than you might expect (such as in Siegmund’s 
                  Wälse monologue), thereby heightening the expectation 
                  for what is to come next. He repeatedly lights up a particular 
                  passage with a sharp flash of colour, and in this he is helped 
                  by the superb playing of the Mariinsky orchestra. The press 
                  notes for this release make great play of the theatre’s 
                  connection with Wagner, including the informed speculation that 
                  it was this orchestra that first played any music from The 
                  Ring, and their playing is indeed very special, comfortably 
                  passing any comparison test with orchestras to their west. The 
                  surging, pulsing strings are particularly effective in Act 1, 
                  and the brass add a special touch of class to the climaxes of 
                  Acts 2 and 3. The whole enterprise is supported by excellent 
                  recorded sound. The engineers have done a fantastic job of capturing 
                  the performances (sessions and live concerts) with supreme clarity 
                  and, perhaps surprisingly, they reveal an enormous amount in 
                  the Ride of the Valkyries, laying bare the sound with a degree 
                  of clarity that is often lost elsewhere: you’ll never 
                  hear better piccolos in the Ride than here! 
                    
                  Few operas take their audience on a journey as extensive or 
                  profound as does Walküre, and it is difficult for 
                  any recording to do it complete justice. In terms of modern 
                  performances, though, this is the finest CD version to have 
                  appeared in many long years. For me, this version surpasses 
                  digital recordings from Haitink, Levine and Janowski, and, while 
                  it won’t make anyone throw away Solti, Keilberth or (especially) 
                  Böhm, it is able to look them in the face and stand the 
                  comparison. The booklet contains a thoughtful essay with libretto 
                  in Russian, German and English. Incidentally, while some of 
                  the music was recorded live in concert, there are no intrusive 
                  audience noises, though you might pick up a fair amount of groaning 
                  in the quieter passages, presumably coming from the maestro 
                  himself. 
                    
                  If the rest of the Wagner bicentennial produces recordings as 
                  good as this then we are in for a great year. 
                    
                  Simon Thompson  
                Masterwork Index: Die 
                  Walküre
                
                   
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