Lella Cuberli has mostly been heard on disc in Mozart, having 
        been chosen for major roles in all three of Daniel Barenboim’s Berlin 
        cycle of the Da Ponte operas: Donna Anna, in "Don Giovanni", 
        the Countess in "Figaro" and Fiordiligi in "Così 
        fan tutte". She also sang Giunia in Silvain Cambreling’s recording 
        of "Lucio Silla". Her principal non-Mozartian appearance was 
        the soprano part in Herbert von Karajan’s last recording of the Beethoven 
        "Missa Solemnis". In every case her performance has been considered 
        one of the strong points of the set. 
         
        
And yet it was in the pre-Verdian Italian school – 
          Rossini, Bellini and Donizetti – that she first made her mark. In spite 
          of her name, which she acquired by marriage anyway (she was born Miss 
          Terrell), she hails from Austin in Texas, but Italians took her to their 
          hearts and in the first years since she won a major competition in 1975 
          it seemed she was the answer to a prayer, the long-needed soprano able 
          to cope effortlessly with the virtuoso writing, but also the long legato 
          lines, of the bel canto school. 
        
 
        
Yet it didn’t quite work out like that, and nobody 
          seems to know quite why. This disc has an essay by one of Italy’s most 
          knowledgeable writers on voices and singing, Rodolfo Celletti (translated 
          into good English), which points out that, though she has performed, 
          occasionally and almost by chance, Lucia di Lammermoor, Violetta and 
          Mimì, she has been called on above all to present a wide range 
          of little-known operas, oratorios, masses and concert works. Perhaps 
          she prefers it that way, for hers is not a rabble-rousing art. In all 
          of the arias on this disc, many of them recording premières in 
          1983, she demonstrates a voice which is even and easy right through 
          its range, as able to spin a long legato line as to negotiate the most 
          virtuoso roulades. In fast music she is well able to differentiate between 
          what has to be kept mellifluous and what has to be brilliant. She is 
          careful over words, always placing them so that they are present and 
          "felt", but are not permitted to break the beauty of the musical 
          line; this is also true of the recitatives which are certainly not inexpressive, 
          but one feels that it would be against her aesthetic ideals to pitch 
          in dangerously in the Callas manner, risking the odd scream or two. 
          So, while she is far from cold or inert, she is in some ways a musician’s 
          singer, and to this extent perhaps it not entirely unjust that she has 
          dedicated so much of her time to making rare works like those on this 
          disc shine again rather than carting her Violetta and her Lucia around 
          the world’s capitals. All the same, future generations who happen upon 
          these performances and look round at the discography of these three 
          composers in the 1980s and 1990s will surely wonder why on earth we 
          made so little use of Lella Cuberli. 
        
         
        
        
Fortunately, care has been taken not only by Cuberli 
          but by all concerned, so we get each scena complete with supporting 
          singers – a mixed blessing in the case of Aldo Bertòlo’s rough 
          tenor, but Martine Dupuy’s contributions are a joy – and chorus. The 
          RAI’s Milan orchestra, since disbanded during a particularly dismal 
          episode in Italy’s cultural history, plays excellently under the vastly 
          experienced baton of Bruno Bartoletti; it boasts some extremely fine 
          woodwind soloists who were rather less in evidence at the orchestra’s 
          weekly concerts during the same period and I wonder who they were. The 
          recording is very clear without loss of warmth. 
        
 
        
The booklet has, as I said, an essay on Cuberli by 
          Celletti which is also translated and full texts which are in Italian 
          only. Even if you can read that language you may feel, like me, that 
          it would have been helpful to have at least a brief outline of the actual 
          stage situation in which the excerpts are sung. But let’s not complain; 
          some rare and often very beautiful music (try the excerpt from "Rosmonda 
          d’Inghilterra") can be heard in performances of the highest quality. 
        
 
        
        
Christopher Howell