The received wisdom among Savoyards is that Sir Malcolm
Sargent's Glyndebourne recordings of the Gilbert and Sullivan
operettas,
while musically shipshape, lack the theatrical excitement
and flair of the "official" D'Oyly Carte documents.
As frequently is the case, the received wisdom was perhaps
better left unreceived on this occasion.
In this early instalment of the Glyndebourne series, Sargent's performance
has plenty of zip, especially in the score's dancier sections.
The waltz that concludes Act I's seventeen-minute opening
number (!) has a nice swing; the 6/8 meters at the end
of Act I and in the Act II quintet are buoyant and airborne;
the Gavotte is crisp and pointed. Some of the quieter passages
go inert and foursquare; fortunately, there aren't many.
As an old G&S hand, I was especially taken by Sargent's
expert handling of the "pivots" - tempo adjustments
for comedic intent - in several numbers, and by his sensible,
though unmarked, tempo changes in Finale II. The conductor
elicits fine work from the well-trained chorus - although
he doesn't always ensure uniform phrasing among the principals
- and the orchestral playing has a rhythmic alertness leagues
beyond what Isidore Godfrey's flabby beat could achieve
for the D'Oyly Carte.
The solo singing overall is better than the D'Oyly Carte's, and, although
not informed by any specific theatrical traditions, no
less engaging. The four "romantic" leads - Elsie
Morison (Gianetta), Marjorie Thomas (Tessa), Richard Lewis
(Marco) and John Cameron (Giuseppe) - do occasionally fall
short of expectations. Morison's presence as this cycle's
principal soprano, in fact, ranks as one of the great discographic
enigmas. She doesn't sing badly - floating a respectable
B flat in her little arietta - but her medium-weight voice
is less fresh and fluid than one wants. Neither she nor
the capable Lewis sounds quite young enough, whatever their
ages at the time of recording. Thomas's mezzo, at once
burnished and transparent, sounds lovely in
When a merry
maiden marries, but her phrasing, while musical, is
placid, and her
parlando in her
Regular Royal
Queen solo is arch. Cameron, at least, offers a chipper
Rising
early in the morning at Sargent's pattery pace. The
four soloists mostly function well as a unit - bringing
a nice animation to
Regular Royal Queen, for example
- but occasionally come unstuck: their ritard at "On
one point rather sore" in Finale II, for example,
is conspicuously not together.
The ducal party is more consistent. Sir Geraint Evans articulates
and inflects the Duke of Plaza-Toro's music on a full,
steady stream of tone, without the lumbering quality that
would creep into his Jack Point a bit later. His Duchess,
Monica Sinclair, brings a firm contralto presence and forthright
manner to the ensembles without overdoing the one-woman
armada effect in her Act II song. Alexander Young is a
good Luiz, sounding more youthful than Lewis, the ostensible
tenor lead. Edna Graham rides the top lines of the ensembles
with shiny tone, but sounds oddly uptight in Casilda's
love music.
Bridging the two sides of the cast is the flavorful Don Alhambra of
Owen Brannigan, like Evans a singing character actor. Among
the smaller roles, the young Helen Watts sings Giulia's
two demanding solo lines with lustrous tone, and doubles
as Inez in the final scene; James Milligan, singing both
Antonio and Giorgio, manages to differentiate them when
they have consecutive lines.
The 1970s US Seraphim LP issue of this
Gondoliers suffered
from diffuse sound, and I was looking forward to an improvement
here. The compact, focused
tuttis certainly come
to life in this issue, and the brass reproduction is surprisingly
deep for its time. But violins and woodwinds behind the
vocals remain foggy and hard to "place". And
it sounds as if the Overture had a different mike set-up
from the rest of the opera: the brilliant opening chord
of Act I makes no more impact than the Overture's quieter
final chord, though it certainly should.
The manuscript score and orchestral parts to Sir Arthur's Cello Concerto,
according to Tom Higgins's booklet note, were destroyed
in a 1964 fire. Sir Charles Mackerras, who had conducted
the piece for a 1953 broadcast, undertook a reconstruction
in the 1980s, working from the manuscript solo part with
orchestral indications, as well as from memory. The work
flanks a broad,
cantabile slow movement with two
faster, flashier movements; it's comparatively slight,
but appealing nonetheless.
The soloist here, Julian Lloyd Webber, produces a lovely rich timbre
on the lower strings, which is par for most cellists. What's
distinctive is the way he carries some of that darkness
into the tone quite a way up the A string, avoiding the
nasal sounds of some other practitioners. He "sings" the
Andante
espressivo ardently, and projects the busywork of the
outer movements with consistently full-bodied tone. Sir
Charles's podium support, as you might guess, is adept
and knowing, and the engineering is vivid, with perhaps
a touch of an early-digital edge.
One question: what's to become of the concerto's original LP coupling,
the Victor Herbert concerto? Surely it shouldn't remain
in digital limbo.
Stephen Francis Vasta
Other G&S operettas conducted by Sir Malcolm Sargent on
CfP
The Mikado
Yeomen of the Guard
Sir Geraint
Evans (baritone) - Duke of Plaza-Toro 
