Outside Russia, and certainly in the UK, productions 
                of operas by Tchaikovsky are often limited to the lyrical Eugene 
                Onegin, and, by some distance, the more dramatic Pique Dame - 
                his penultimate work in this genre. Both works are based on poems 
                by Pushkin. The present set is unique in presenting read extracts 
                from the poem interspersed by arias from the opera. 
              
 
              
Pique Dame tells the story of the fated love 
                of a young officer, Hermann, for Lisa, grand-daughter of the Countess, 
                a renowned gambler, and who is believed to hold the secret of 
                the three cards. Lisa is betrothed to Prince Yeletsky. Hermann 
                believes he lacks the money to displace Yeletsky and that the 
                only way to obtain it is by winning at cards. To succeed he needs 
                the Countess’s secret. She dies of shock as he seeks it from her. 
                However, she returns as a ghost and reveals the satanically influenced 
                secret to him as ‘three seven and ace’. She also encourages him 
                to marry Lisa. Hermann gambles all against Yeletsky, but the third 
                card is the Queen of Spades and the Countess’s apparition appears 
                to him again as he stabs himself. The devilish pact is fulfilled. 
              
 
              
On record Pique Dame has had a mixed history, 
                with theoretically ideal casts being marred by recording quality 
                or the odd flawed soloist. That changed with Gergiev’s 1992 recording, 
                where the conductor’s dynamism and feel for the idiom is allied 
                with an excellent team of soloists. It immediately became a clear 
                first choice (Philips). That issue shared with the present set 
                the veteran Irina Arkhipova, as the Countess. Hers is a portrayal 
                that reeks of experience. Her full tone, excellent diction and 
                phrasing are allied to well held legato. This she can mobilise 
                at very slow speed, in her great aria (CD2 Tr.5), and where she 
                slips imperceptibly from Russian into French. Natalia Datsko takes 
                the role of her grand-daughter, Lisa. Datsko’s full-toned voice 
                is more dramatic than lyric and is even throughout its wide range. 
                Her palette of vocal colour is well used in expressing Lisa’s 
                many emotions (CD2 tr.9). A particular pleasure is her duet with 
                the mellifluous-toned mezzo of Nina Romanova as Pauline (CD1 trs.8-9). 
              
 
              
Lisa’s betrothed, Yeletsky, is portrayed by Dmitri 
                Hvorostovsky who also sang the part in Ozawa’s flawed recording 
                for RCA. His singing is outstandingly expressive, secure throughout 
                the range, and allied to full fresh even tone. It is a formidable 
                portrayal. Good as Chernov is for Gergiev, Hvorostovsky is better. 
                His rendition of Yeletsky’s Act 2 aria, in which he states his 
                love for Lisa (CD2 tr.1), is justifiably treated to enthusiastic 
                applause. Hvorostovsky is well matched for vocal strength by the 
                Hermann of Vitaly Tarashchenko. His typical Slavic tenor has baritonal 
                overtones and a slightly husky quality. However it is a true tenor 
                voice with plenty of heft for the dramatic outbursts. He is, however, 
                able to lighten his tone to lyric tenderness as he pours out his 
                love to Lisa (CD1 tr.11). Equally well thought and expressed are 
                his use of phrasing and tone as he meets the Countess (CD2 tr.6) 
                and later as he reads Lisa’s forgiveness. 
              
 
              
The minor solo parts are all sung convincingly 
                and with good tone; not a Slavic wobble within sight or, more 
                relevant, hearing. Most impressive too is the vibrant chorus, 
                even more so the orchestral playing under Vladimir Fedoseyev, 
                their long time conductor. He draws fine playing and conveys the 
                episodic drama superbly. Although denoted ADD the recording is 
                full and clear with an excellent balance. The occasional instances 
                of applause, all well deserved, are not unduly extensive or intrusive. 
              
 
              
The ‘bonus’ of the reading of extracts from Pushkin’s 
                poem, interspersed with arias from the opera, will mainly be of 
                interest to Russian speakers and those spotting names for the 
                next generation of singers from Russia. The booklet has the text 
                of the opera in Cyrillic and ‘Roman’ form with a translation in 
                English. The artist profiles are given in Russian and English 
                but are shy on dates of birth. There are plenty of spelling errors 
                in the English translation. The track listings would have benefited 
                from English translation and reference to a numbered page in the 
                libretto, the pages of which are not numbered. 
              
 
              
Caught with the tension of a live performance, 
                but without the disadvantage of stage movement, this well sung 
                and played idiomatic performance is a worthy addition to the catalogue. 
                It also has the benefit of Hvorostovsky’s Yeletsky, caught at 
                the peak of form a few months after he won the accolade of ‘Cardiff 
                Singer of the World’. It can stand alongside, or compete with, 
                Gergiev’s well cast and conducted studio recording. 
              
 
              
Robert J Farr