The coupling looks sensible - and certainly generous - enough,
but the performances in question prove oddly matched.
The Verdi preserves a concert performance at St. Paul's Cathedral,
perhaps one marking some ceremonial occasion, although no details
of this are given. Nevertheless, since the one-shot concert
was deemed sufficiently important for recorded documentation
- with corporate sponsorship by J.P. Morgan and Company, no
less - it was presumably of some moment.
The cathedral acoustic is less of a liability than one might have feared.
Soft string playing - the opening of the piece, say, or the
tremolos that begin the Ingemisco and the Lux aeterna
- doesn't come across clearly; if you boost the volume to compensate,
the louder passages blast. A few climaxes turn opaque; the entries
in the Sanctus fugue stand out, but their continuations
don't. Otherwise, detail is surprisingly clear - the liquid
textures of the Lux aeterna actually come through better
than in some studio productions. The venue's vast ambient space
certainly makes for a sense of occasion, though loud chords
have an unusually long overhang.
Owain Arwel Hughes leads an accomplished, warmly felt performance.
Here and there, his treatment of this or that passage doesn't
seem quite traditional, as with the deliberate pacing of the
Kyrie after 8:24, for example. On the other hand, the
slashing brasses and rhythmic thrust of the Dies irae
will elicit no complaints from Italians - though its returns
sound less distinctive - and he has an excellent feel for the
undulating rhythmic shapes of the Quid sum miser. One
wishes the conductor had held the general silences a bit longer
- he tends to begin the next phrase before the long echo from
the preceding one has died out, though I suppose that was almost
inevitable.
Among the soloists, I rather liked Edmund Barham's compact, ringy,
neatly produced tenor, striking a good balance between Mediterranean
ardor and British "cool". The beginning of the Hostias,
however, is gummy and tentative - perhaps he was having as much
trouble hearing the soft tremolos in the cathedral as we are!
John Tomlinson could still muster plenty of vocal clout in 1994
- though his extensive manipulation of the closed vowels is
a sign of the problems to come - and his delivery is authoritative.
Elizabeth Connell has many nice moments in the soprano part, though
perhaps not enough of them. She knows how to turn into the upper
voice with a pleasing, heady spin, but doesn't have reliable
access to it, so the peaks of the Quid sum miser and
the a cappella quartet, Pie Jesu Domine, betray
strain. She also tends to back off the voice in the lowest phrases
- perhaps trying to avoid vocal positions associated with her
previous mezzo avatar - which not only undercuts critical cadences,
but has implications for her support and stamina. And, indeed,
she has trouble maintaining pitch in the final Requiem aeternam
reprise.
Ameral Gunson's narrow-bore mezzo lacks the sort of Italianate sweep
and expansiveness that this music would seem to require. The
upper range, as recorded, is clear and sopranoish; the lower
notes, however, turn weak and diffuse, except when she reinforces
them with a harsh if plausible chest mix, probably the better
solution. She sings capably and cleanly, but sounds vaguely
out of place, though less so than did Dame Janet Baker on Solti's
RCA recording.
The two massed choruses acquit themselves well, with only a few uncertain
moments; the fugues in the Sanctus and the Libera
me are competent and assured. All in all, this Requiem
is not directly comparable to any of the studio recordings;
it'll serve better as a memento than as a general library performance.
At least Karl Forster's Rossini here finds itself in more congenial
company than it did on an earlier Rouge et Noir twofer,
entitled Stabat Mater, where it sat uncomfortably alongside
Poulenc and Szymanowski. After the Verdi, though, its vivid
early stereo sound is an ear-opener - if you're listening straight
through, remember to turn down the volume! The conductor doesn't
make the mistake of adopting a reverent, "devotional"
style. This music is, basically, old-fashioned Italian opera,
and Forster plays it accordingly: within a framework of disciplined
musicality, he lets the hurdy-gurdy rhythms propel the phrases
forward, and doesn't shrink from the indicated dynamic contrasts.
In this solo team, the soprano stands out: Pilar Lorengar intones her
lines clearly and firmly in a gleaming soprano that dominates
the quartet passages. Her fast vibrato, which hadn't yet loosened
and widened in 1960, adds intensity to her assured Inflammatus.
Josef Traxel, too, sings creditably, although his bright tenor,
built around closed Germanic vowels, may not be to everyone's
taste. His forward placement throws the opening quartet out
of kilter whenever he approaches the top of the staff; on the
other hand, it makes for a secure Cujus animam. His A-flats
aren't really free, but he gets some spin on the D-flat in the
cadenza.
The American mezzo, Betty Allen, had an extensive concert and recital
career, but recorded little. Her solo lines in the Quis est
homo duet sound parched and unresonant, but she sings the
wider-ranging Fac ut portem handsomely, if with a touch
of strain at the top, and her contribution to the ensembles
is solid.
The tonal blend of the St. Hedwig's choir is excellent, and their enunciation
is surprisingly clear for such a large outfit. But they don't
quite nail the tricky tuning in Eja, mater, fons amoris,
not helped by Josef Greindl, whose wooden bass doesn't always
"speak" dead center on the leaps.
The Berlin Philharmonic's lustrous playing is a plus. The deep, churchly
acoustic, unsurprisingly, turns opaque as the sonorities expand;
strangely, however, it doesn't obscure the parts in the final
fugue, presumably via some engineering sleight-of-hand. The
bass is a bit boomy, as was frequently the case on pre-Philharmonie
Berlin recordings.
So - a souvenir Verdi, and an almost-right Rossini. Whether this constitutes
a good investment at CfP prices is your decision. For the Rossini,
however, it's worth hunting down the Schippers (Sony) version,
with the New York Philharmonic and an impressive New York-based
solo quartet.
Stephen
Francis Vasta
