Gioachino Rossini (1792-1868)
La scala di seta (1812)
Dormont, Remy Burners (tenor); Giulia, Claudia Urru (soprano); Lucilla, Meagan Sill (soprano); Dorvil, Michele Angelini (tenor); Blansac, Eugenio Di Lieto (bass); Germano, Emmanuel Franco (baritone)
Kraków Philharmonic Orchestra/José Miguel Pérez-Sierra
rec. live, July 2021, Offene Halle Marienruhe, Bad Wildbad, Germany
The Italian libretto can be accessed online
Reviewed as download from press preview
NAXOS 8.660512-13 [2 CDs: 88]
La scala di seta was Rossini’s sixth opera and it premiered on 9 May 1812, a couple of months after his 20th birthday. It was then his third premiere that year and there were another three to follow the same year. In 1810 and 1811 he had witnessed his first two premieres and in January and February 1813 followed two more, which means that before he turned 21 he had seen a total of ten premieres. None of these have been established as standard repertoire, but L’Italiana in Algeri was in the pipeline and premiered in May 1813. One can with emphasis say that Rossini had a flying start.
Many of his early works have lately been revived, both in Pesaro and in Bad Wildbad, and recordings have been numerous. In Bad Wildbad Naxos have regularly been on site with recording equipment and issued live recordings. I have lost count on how many have been set down, but here is, anyway, the latest, caught on the wing on 20 July last year. Listening through the set one notices that there seems to be no audience present – there is no sign of applause anywhere. On the other hand, there are quick fade-outs after each number, obviously to avoid disturbances, but it also leaves the music in a kind of limbo. After the long finale, thank God, the audience wakes up from its “Sleeping Beauty-sleep” and delivers a fair share of clapping and stamping.
It goes without saying that operas produced at a speed that is to be compared with an assembly line seldom become full-worthy masterworks, but that was hardly Rossini’s intension. Operas were consumer goods, they played for a couple of weeks, the composer had an income and that was his aim. He didn’t create for posterity. But he wasn’t only an unskilled labourer who delivered everyday goods. Ever so often there popped up a tune that stuck and he saw the possibilities and savoured it. The overture is such a piece. It has ever since its creation led an independent life as a concert piece. Most people with some interest in so called classic music recognise it, it is well-written, the melodies are catchy, instrumentation inventive, there is a little theme – I used to call it “the laughing theme” – that is recurrent and there are instrumental solos a-plenty – and it requires virtuoso playing, which it gets here from the Kraków Philharmonic. But what about “The Silken Ladder”? What is it? Well, it is a ladder made of silk! And …? It is used in the story, and the stories in comedies are so complicated. Must I relate it? It will take some time. No, I’ll just give you the beginning of the synopsis, and there you will learn the function of the ladder. Here it goes:
The scene is set in Dormont’s house, in the country near Paris.
In her apartment in the house of her guardian Dormont, Giulia is getting annoyed with Germano, the simple household servant, who is talking about her impending marriage. Her cousin Lucilla comes to tell her that her guardian has summoned her to the drawing room. Giulia chases them both away. They wonder what can be keeping her in her room so long.
Once Giulia is alone again, she is finally able to let Dorvil, whom she has married in secret, leave the house by climbing down a silken ladder. No sooner is he safely outside than Dormont appears to press her to marry Blansac, who is expected at any moment. Lucilla, who is very taken with Blansac, regrets that there are no plans to marry her off just yet. Germano hurries in to announce the arrival of a stranger. It must be Blansac …
Now you understand why they need a ladder and that there are love problems coming up. The ladder will be in regular use during the rest of the opera, and in the final scene Dorvil climbs up over the balcony and tells the party that he is Giulia’s husband. Oh, I shouldn’t have told you the end …
Now that you know it you can just relax and enjoy the music – if you choose to acquire the recording, that is. There are several good musical numbers sprinkled in between the secco recitatives. The Duetto between Giulia and Germano, Io son ch’hai buon core (CD 1 tr. 4) is one of the best, even though the singing isn’t quite up to the requirements. Claudia Urru (Giulia) makes amends in her aria Il mio ben sospiro (CD 2 tr. 5). It is a beautiful aria, the slow first part in particular and her singing is accomplished. In the dramatic second part she is harder pressed, but she delivers some spine-chilling high coloratura, and I just regret that the applause was cut – she should have been met with ovations. There are nice melodies in several other places, not to forget the ensembles: the quartet (CD 1 tr. 9) and the almost quarter-long Finale (CD 2 tr. 9).
Quite recently my colleague Ralph Moore complained about the quality of the singing in a brand new recording. I agree with him. Most of these singers are in the beginning of their careers but there is a lot of undistinguished singing. Gritty or fluttery or unattractive tone, wobbles … Best of the bunch is Claudia Urru, who after a hesitant start dominates the proceedings. Michele Angelini, whom I admired a couple of years ago in another Rossini opera from Bad Wildbad, Matilde di Shabran, is technically superb, has a beautiful voice and is brilliant up high, but he is here seriously set to test due to the extremely high tessitura. He manages his stratospheric excursions with aplomb even so, thanks to his willpower.
The recorded balance is a bit uneven, and the fade-outs mentioned above are a little disturbing. Those interested in early Rossini shouldn’t dismiss the present recording, but they should be aware of the existence of at least a half-dozen other sets.
Göran Forsling
