As a prelude, a few words on how I approach
any disc that I review. Upon receipt,
I listen to it straight through without
beforehand reading the booklet, other
than to follow the track-listing and
identify the artist(s) concerned. This
initial hearing, during which thoughts
are noted, is always followed by further
listenings supported by the use of a
text, if one is supplied or if I have
one to hand (should one be required)
– and again, thoughts are noted. Comparisons
with other recordings in the same repertoire
could also be made at this point. As
a final stage a thorough reading of
the accompanying booklet and any further
documentary research is undertaken.
Then the writing commences. The point
of this is a simple one – it’s the music
that comes first, and so too the reaction
to it. Otherwise it might be all too
easy for a reaction to be tainted –
however slightly – by ‘external’ factors
inherent in packaging, presentation
or booklet before a note has been heard.
That places the artist(s) at an immediate
disadvantage.
The programme for this
recital is one that displays at least
a measure of originality, and it is
most welcome that it be sufficiently
present to take the content away from
solely running out the same predictable
fistful of arias; though inevitably
and particularly when any young artist
is making his or her first solo recording
a number of those will be present. And
it’s likely to be those that are employed
when it comes to comparative listening
against other artists’ efforts.
A while ago I was present
at a master class given by Christa Ludwig.
With one student singer-accompanist
pair she spent more time berating the
pianist for playing Schubert like Brahms
than working with the singer. The point
– made in Ms. Ludwig’s own inimitable
way – was that in performance all parts
are equally important and must have
an understanding of the music, its meaning,
its moods and feelings before anything
can stand a chance of being artistically
successful. At the time I felt she went
much further than was needed with the
poor pianist. Listening to this disc,
I was not only mindful of her reaction,
but understood her point more clearly
than before.
The problems begin
before Farrugia sings the opening line
of Ah! Je veux vivre! Alexander
Briger’s conducting – here, and throughout
the disc – shows hardly any emotional
response to the music. His conducting
is at best peremptory. Where there should
be musical commas, he places full stops.
Where ebb and flow should be, there
is a much harsher gradation at work.
His Tales from the Vienna Woods
was unfortunate enough to follow hot
on the heels of my hearing Jansons and
the Wiener Philharmoniker play it, but
Farrugia’s reading is not worth a second
reading, even if he does provide a rarely
heard vocal part. The BBC SO sound is
decent if hardly distinguished, though
things do occasionally rise to higher
levels periodically.
Maybe the singer can
save the day? Farrugia can sing in the
technical sense of hitting the notes,
carrying a tune and producing reasonably
flexible tone at any required volume.
This much is beyond dispute; otherwise
hopefully she would not have had the
career she has since the mid-1990s,
largely but not exclusively at Opera
Australia. You can probably sense a
‘but…’ coming on, and yes they
are coming. For a studio recording,
more care should have been taken with
the planning and the details as brought
out in the execution of it.
Farrugia’s voice and
this repertoire: I think there is a
mismatch here that is fundamental to
the resulting disappointment of the
disc. I seriously question if she should
even be singing this repertoire, the
voice being somewhat heavier than the
music demands.
Language: the opening
line of Ah! Je veux vivre! sounds
more like ‘Ze jeux vivre’ and the aria
continues in a similar vein. Alright,
so not the first soprano to have problems
with the French language, but in her
effort to imbue the line with happiness
and joy it has become laboured and confused.
Not that she is helped by Briger’s singularly
uninspired reading. Among other six
French arias the linguistic problems
persist resulting in the fact that for
all (except Offenbach’s Robinson Crusoe,
which I did not know prior to this)
a host of preferable alternatives sprang
to mind that cope better with language
musical feeling and interpretation:
Popp, Gruberova, Gheorghiu, Vaduva,
Mesplé, and Streich. Thinking
again about vocal weight, quite a range
is represented in that list, showing
exactly what Farrugia does not have.
The other languages are handled moderately
better than the French, though far from
idiomatically.
Style and interpretation:
as a friend whom I played this disc
to said of it: "Repertoire like
this needs to be done with bags of style,
and this has very little’. I couldn’t
agree more – comments on the laughing
items I will make later – but others
scarcely distinguish themselves. I’m
well aware that singing is a living
art and that artists of today have their
own approaches, but if they run as counter
to the music as here, then I don’t want
to know. Take Musetta’s Waltz as an
example, comparing Farrugia to the recording
made by Lesley Garrett. Garrett’s tells
you more than it says by what it implies
in the way it is sung – she is properly
knowing, and portrays a character that
has been around the block a few times.
Farrugia’s is cold, unknowing, and just
goes through the motions: no character
involved.
Laughter: there’s plenty
of it included here, but in the sterile
surroundings of a Maida Vale studio
the sound of it is none-too-at-ease,
and (often, frankly) rather shrill.
Farrugia’s experience with those roles
she has sung on stage does not overcome
this. Soon I was waiting in dread of
another laugh, the very joie de vivre
sapped out of me.
By the time I reached
the Novello and Mills items I couldn’t
take any more – I gave them one listening
to make sure they were on the disc and
resolved never to listen to them again.
Their inclusion does lower the tone
of the company that the serious repertoire
keeps, even if the intention was to
do something light-hearted. Wasn’t that
the purpose of all the ‘laughter songs’,
as Decca calls them?
One glance at the booklet
should be enough to tell you that Decca
is unashamedly marketing this at a mass
audience, and I am all for music of
serious worth reaching that audience
providing the artistic results are strong.
Otherwise, the risk is run whereby at
best mediocre results are taken to be
great ones by the public, and that won’t
do. The foreword from Decca blatantly
oversells the non-existent qualities
of this disc. The introductory note
pitches things accessibly at a generalist
reader, with texts, translations and
artist biographies in accompaniment.
Artist photos, taken
very much with the thought ‘if you’ve
got it, flaunt it’ in mind, show Farrugia
looking every inch a young diva on the
up. However was one of her reclining
on sofa beneath a painting of a nude
in a similar position really necessary?
Or is even visual taste absent here?
And finally, there’s
"thanks from Amelia" – all
two and a half pages of it! – in which
the word ‘thanks’ is mentioned 42 times
for the ‘support’ and ‘belief’ she received
in making this CD. There is even thanks
for ‘extra Bling!’ – the artistic
contribution of it is non-existent,
but image-wise it’s inestimable. The
pop industry, where nauseating acknowledgements
of the minutiae on the underbelly of
nothingness have long been essential,
has so much to answer for that this
has to become prevalent in the classical
market too.
Of course the fight
for sales is tremendously tough and
Decca’s course seems set – this is hardly
the first artist or release to be marketed
this way; witness the horror of Renée
Fleming’s recent ‘Sacred Songs’ release,
even Bartoli’s ‘Opera Proibita’ that
was sensationalised as far as possible
for the sake of sales. It wasn’t like
that in Joan Sutherland’s day, but then
the world has moved on and suddenly
I’m feeling way beyond my years. The
label’s roster of ‘artists’ rolling
out pseudo-classical products should
act as a warning to any newcomer as
to what might be expected. Nicole Cabell,
their latest signing, releases her first
arias disc in the summer – she has glamour,
but will the disc have anything more
than that? We’ll have to wait and see.
It pains me to say
it, particularly as Farrugia and Briger
are young artists in need of support
and encouragement, but this disc is
a total artistic disaster.
Evan Dickerson
Amelia Farrugia (soprano) 
