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      Michelangelo in Song 
        Benjamin Britten (1913-1976) 
        Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo, Op. 22, for tenor and piano (1940) 
        (transcr. for bass and piano by David Owen Norris) [16:26] 
        Hugo WOLF (1860-1903) 
        Drei Gedichte von Michelangelo, for bass and piano (1897) [9:44] 
        Dmitri SHOSTAKOVICH (1906-1975) 
        Suite on Verses of Michelangelo Buonarroti, Op. 145, for bass and piano (1974) [36:41] 
Sir John Tomlinson (bass) 
David Owen Norris (piano) 
rec. 2012, Potton Hall, Dunwich, Suffolk, UK 
Texts and translations provided 
CHANDOS CHAN10785 [62:52]
  
         
          Sir John Tomlinson is a singer of rare distinction 
            and reward, so the prospect of hearing him in these Michelangelo settings 
            – the Britten transcribed for bass by his accompanist David Owen 
            Norris - is mouth-watering indeed. I suspect the benchmark for the Britten 
            – in its original form - will be the Pears/Britten recording on 
            Decca. The work’s dedicatee sings with all the intelligence and 
            distinctive style/timbre one associates with him; however, the recording 
            is showing its age. As for the Wolf one need look no further than Fischer-Dieskau 
            and Barenboim on DG. That said, I’m still waiting for a truly 
            satisfying account of Shostakovich’s Op. 145. If one gravitates 
            towards the later version for bass and orchestra – albeit sung 
            in Italian – Gerald Finley’s a good choice (review). 
    
            Now the preamble’s out of the way we need to deal with the state 
            of Sir John’s once glorious voice. Frankly I was dismayed by the 
            signs of wear and tear I heard in his recent Bluebeard (review). 
            He still sings with enormous passion and an unerring sense of drama, 
            but that wide beat and sometimes hollow tone are just too much to bear. 
            That’s certainly an issue in the Britten, although it’s 
            not the only one; on the whole he seems far too generalised here, too 
            approximate, and one returns to the more characterful Pears with relief. 
            The transcription poses no obvious problems, and I’m sure there 
            are basses out there who could do the work full justice. 
    
            Sir John’s Wolf settings are ameliorated – to some extent 
            at least - by heartfelt singing, but even here his voice is too easily 
            stretched and torn. There are always instances where uncommon levels 
            of insight overrule vocal shortcomings; alas, this is not one of them. 
            Still, I did warm to his darkly reflective rendition of Alles endet, 
              was entstehet. The sometimes splashy piano sound is a 
            surprise, given the usually attractive Potton Hall acoustic. Voice and 
            piano are rather closely recorded, too. 
    
            Had it been recorded ten years ago Sir John’s Shostakovich would 
            have been a version to treasure. His accompanist really has the measure 
            of this austere score, and he brings out all those distinctive sonorities 
            and quirky phrases. Sir John makes amends with a nicely calibrated account 
            of Love, which is far steadier than one might expect. He’s 
            also terribly moving in Separation, so I’m almost inclined 
            to forgive him his earlier transgressions. Ditto Wrath, which 
            he loads with just the right blend of declamation and vehemence. Remarkably, 
            it gets better; the closing triptych – Night, Death and 
            immortality – find singer and pianist locked in profound 
            communion. This is Shostakovich at his most spare and exposed, and both 
            artists respond to his gaunt writing with telling intensity and insight. 
    
            Oh, if only the rest of this disc were so compelling. It’s a measure 
            of Sir John’s great skill that he’s able to transcend his 
            vocal strictures in the Shostakovich and remind us of his former presence 
            and power. I’m not convinced the Britten would ever have worked 
            for him; he just doesn’t sound comfortable with the piece. Good 
            liner-notes and texts/translations complete an otherwise excellent package. 
    
            Glimpses of greatness in the Shostakovich; the Britten and Wolf settings disappoint. 
    
  Dan Morgan 
    http://twitter.com/mahlerei 
   
            Britten discography
  & review index: Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo 
           
           
           
         
       
        
 
   
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