First
off, I must ask you to suspend any thoughts you have that Bella
Voce, to title of this CD, should just indicate inherent
tonal beauty. Whilst Harteros’s voice is beautiful in a conventional
sense, there is so much more to her art.
If
the notes by Martin Bernheimer that accompany this CD concentrate
more on discussing Anja Harteros and her voice than the repertoire
she sings, it is perhaps understandable. A few of the points
he makes bear amplification. “… she arrived at the Met without
fanfare”: Her international career was launched when she
won the 1999 Cardiff “Singer of the World” competition. My
notes from watching that competition on television record
the “mix of fire and control in her voice, a lirico-spinto whose
top range has great dramatic potential – although she has
yet to fully realise this.” Since 1999 she has sung at many
European and American houses, with notable appearances in
Munich and San Diego featuring high on the list. The fact
she has had the patience of approach to build a career rather
than be an overnight sensation singing everywhere is to her
credit.
Mozart
is a key component of her stage repertoire, although she
has also sung Eva in Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg,
Mimi in La Bohème, Violetta in La Traviata and
Amelia in Simon Boccanegra – all with success. Consideration
of these other roles leads me to agree with Martin Bernheimer
once more in that her voice is more accurately described
by the German term Jugendlich-dramatisch. Being of
Greek-German parentage, the two musical aspects working within
her voice are aptly summarised by fiery Greek passion and
the more conscious self-control that you might think of as
a characteristic of the Germanic mentality.
Mozart,
of course, requires both elements to be present in differing
degrees for many roles. It’s a fact one cannot escape as
one listens to Harteros in this sequence of seven Mozart
arias.
Oh
smania! O Furie! ... D'Oreste e
d'Ajace is the nearest thing Mozart wrote to
a true mad scene. Urgency is there throughout the singing,
though never produced through
over-forced tone. The recitative is inwardly shaded to
contrast well with the passionate fury on display in the
aria. Much of the text is repeated, but Harteros varies
the colour of the words, displaying both musical awareness
and intelligence of interpretation. Without doubt she has
developed the dramatic potential of her upper range, but
without sacrificing flexibility or precision to get there.
The lower range might not be used with the same strength
- to do so in this aria would be uncalled for – but it
does possess a most useful ‘smoky’ quality in the chest
voice.
Porgi,
amor calls for more restraint in the assumption
as the text expresses with succinct brevity the weight
of personal regret rather
than fury. Stage experience with the music shows, as does
vocal flexibility and awareness of the implied nuances
of meaning Mozart’s setting draws from da Ponte’s text.
Fiordiligi,
no less than Figaro’s Countess or Idomeneo’s Elettra, is
a role that could have been written for Harteros, so natural
does her phrasing sound. Temerari ... Come scoglio brings
to the fore once more the urgently dramatic aspect of her
ability to characterise a role. The recitative implies much
of the aggressive desperation that follows in Fiordiligi’s
thoughts at that point in Act I, though where reflection
occurs this is well integrated too. The long vocal runs are
expressive of her plight, rather than just showy runs of
notes thrown off without thought. Ei
parte - senti! Ah no! ... Per pieta, ben mio perdona all'error shows
an altogether different aspect of Fiordiligi’s character:
pensive desperation. The recitative here is nervous, the
aria might
sound at the start a bit like Porgi, amor in tone,
but listen carefully – it is much weightier of concept and
implication. The vocal leaps are cleanly executed without
disrupting the characterisation.
The
remaining Mozart items are all concert arias, but ones that
afford Harteros further opportunities to display her dramatic
qualities. Ah, lo previdi! - Ah, t'invola agl'occhi miei
- Deh, non varcar is a true scena that “balances
as informal recitative with formal melody”, as Martin Bernheimer
states. Frustration, empty desolation and abandonment are
all picked up with ease in Harteros’s tone. Vado,
ma dove? O Dei! is the best known of the concert
arias included here, and is sung with absolute security and
feeling. Doubts are quietly yet definitely expressed in the
singing, as they should be. Misera! dove son? L'aure del Tebro - Ah! non
son io che parlo once more expresses
the plight of a distraught woman with skill.
The
single scena by Haydn continues the theme. Recently
I reviewed a disc featuring Arleen Augér in this music (see
review).
Then I commented about Augér’s voice: “at times the relative
maturity of the voice is noticeable, particularly when pushed
wide at each end of the vocal range. The Scena di Berenice shows
this in particular, but odd moments of effort are quickly
passed.”
No
such comments can be levelled at Harteros. As I confirmed
at the start, hers is a Jugendlich-dramatisch soprano,
and one with a seemingly limitless range of expression too.
Much as I love Augér in other Haydn works, The Creation under
Rattle for example, I admit that I can only admire her in
this scena. Harteros on the other hand makes me love
the music and her singing of it because her voice is ideal
for it – youthful yet experienced, imposing yet flexible,
subtle yet it demands you listen. Brilliantly realised are
the contrasting keys of the two arias – E major and F minor – and
the originality of Haydn’s daring writing is still something
to delight the ear over 210 years after his quill scratched
upon manuscript paper.
Not
a word so far on the orchestra or conducting: both sound
sensitive and fine to me, sensitive to mood and practised
in establishing the right atmosphere for each aria. The recording
places Harteros forward in the sound spectrum, making her
impact all the greater.
This
disc proves that some things are worth waiting for. Harteros
is an artist very much in the ascendant; she holds passion
and control in balance within her singing. May her next solo
discs explore other areas of her repertoire as thrillingly
as this one has. But, please, don’t make me wait another
seven years!
As
I read through this review before submitting it to our Editor,
I note that a recording of Anja Harteros in Verdi’s La Traviata
is about to be released.
Evan Dickerson
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Anja Harteros (soprano) 
