Christian Gerhaher’s song recital discs have received ecstatic plaudits 
          from many sources, including me. This is his very first disc of operatic 
          arias and it’s every bit as exciting as his 
lieder discs, though, 
          revealing even more of this unique singer’s skill and artistry.
           
          As with his 
Ferne 
          Geliebte disc, 
          one of the most interesting things about 
Romantic Arias is 
          the choice of repertoire. I expect that most listeners will be familiar 
          only with the extracts from 
Tannhäuser. Gerhaher and Harding 
          have plundered the lesser-known corners of the German repertoire to 
          give us a collection which, in the words of the booklet note, “takes 
          its cue from the musical quality, rather than the popularity, of the 
          pieces in question”. It’s revealing and interesting, and it whets the 
          appetite of the listener to discover more. Schubert, for example, always 
          had a troubled relationship with opera, but the extracts from the two 
          operas represented here are worth more than a second listen, especially 
          when interpreted by such masterful musicians. The count in Schubert’s 
          
Graf von Gleichen burns with yearning for his home and family 
          in an aria encompassing both longing and fear, twin emotions which Gerhaher 
          inhabits to the full. The numbers from 
Alfonso und Estrella 
          are just as successful, not least the bewitching invocation to nature 
          which opens 
Sie mir gegrüßt, o Sonne, and Gerhaher’s celebrated 
          skill with words helps to enliven what could be the otherwise pedestrian 
          narration of 
Der Jäger ruhte hingegossen.
           
          The singer still has that exceptional beauty of tone. Gerhaher is possessed 
          of one of the finest lyrical baritones at work in this or any age. He 
          has a gentle smoothness to his voice that can be alluring and incredibly 
          seductive, even in repertory that can sometimes appear turgid. Wolfram’s 
          invocation from Act 2 of 
Tannhäuser has never sounded so attractive: 
          I forgot the sometimes tortuous wordplay in the face of such beautiful 
          sound. This is a Wolfram I could listen to again and again, and the 
          
Abendstern solo is wonderfully poetic. No-one who heard him 
          sing Wolfram in 
the 
          Royal Opera’s 2012 Tannhäuser 
          will forget it in a hurry, and his beauty of tone, combined with his 
          insight into the text, means that, in the words of another commentator, 
          the listener feels that he is in touch with Wolfram’s innermost thoughts.
           
          Even more compelling, however, is the intensity with which Gerhaher 
          appears to have considered every single phrase. It’s often said – rightly 
          – that Gerhaher approaches opera with a lieder-singer’s ear for detail, 
          and it’s this that makes his performances live and breathe in a way 
          that lifts them into the realm of the very special. Listen, for example, 
          to the recitative that begins the excerpt from 
Genoveva: it 
          never drags or stumbles, but Gerhaher uses the words to compel the music 
          along, giving us a real impression of action unfolding on stage, in 
          this case Siegfried saddling his horse to ride home. In that paragraph 
          Gerhaher captures all the excitement and anticipation of a man bound 
          for home, but he does so in a way that is lyrical and compelling in 
          the extreme. This, however, is only the start of the drama, because 
          (false) news arrives, via one of the disc’s brief but beautiful contributions 
          from the excellent Maximilian Schmitt, of Genoveva’s adultery. This 
          throws Siegfried into a tumult of dismay and regret which finally gives 
          way to determination to visit a local sorceress to find the truth. Gerhaher 
          immerses himself in every aspect of the scene, from elation to despair 
          and everything in between. It’s compelling in the extreme, beautifully 
          sung and dramatically realised. For this track alone this CD would be 
          worth its purchase price.
           
          In that scene from 
Genoveva you can hear exactly when the turning 
          point comes – joy begins to turn to suspicion with the phrase “Da hackt 
          ein Rab am Fenster” – and Gerhaher’s vocal colour changes audibly to 
          accommodate it. This, though, is only one example of a time where Gerhaher’s 
          skill with words brings the disc to life. Most of the arias on the disc, 
          such as that from 
Genoveva, chart a character’s journey from 
          one emotion to another. This gives Gerhaher a good opportunity to demonstrate 
          how good he is at owning and communicating a different series of moods. 
          You can hear this again in the well phrased Nicolai number when Edmund 
          moves from seeking revenge to suppressing the urge, or in Lysiart’s 
          aria of vengeance from 
Euryanthe which brings the disc to a 
          storming close.
           
          The orchestral playing is first rate too, and it’s particularly impressive 
          the way Daniel Harding gets the Bavarian RSO to shade down their sound 
          in the Schubert numbers so that the strings even sound as though they 
          were playing on authentic instruments. The instrumental solos, such 
          as the cello in the Nicolai number, are always beguiling, and the colour 
          and verve of the orchestra’s playing has every bit as good a contribution 
          to make to the success of this disc.
           
          It’s three more cheers for this disc then, an exciting, beautiful and 
          enlightening journey through early German Romantic opera with one of 
          that period’s finest vocal exponents. Had this come my way earlier, 
          I would probably have made it one of my discs of 2012.
           
          
Simon Thompson