Pergolesi - Lo Frate 'Nnamorato - Riccardo Muti, La Scala

 

 

It's scarcely possible to speak of an 'early work' in the case of a composer who died at the age of 26, but Lo frate 'nnamorato was only the second opera of the ill-starred Pergolesi. Unlike his more famous La serva padrona of the following year (1733), which was merely an intermezzo within an opera seria, this was a full-length three-act commedia musicale which originally included an independent intermezzo and ballet (both lost, unfortunately)—not, as is emphasized by Francesco Degrada (who edited the work for the new Pergolesi critical edition), an opera buffa, as it is often called. I found it just possible to follow the plot—a tangle of three arranged marriages between a Roman and a Neapolitan family which all the girls resist (all three being in love with the same young man who has been brought up as the adopted brother of one and is eventually found to be a long-lost brother of the other two), with various complications of a licentious fop, scheming maidservants and feigned jealousies—by drawing a chart for myself of the characters and their relationships to each other. Things are made no easier by there being six female voices and by the Roman family's servant, Vannella, speaking Neapolitan (as of course does the Naples family). Fear not—all is translated.

Some occasional distant laughter (especially at farcical events at the end of Act 2) from the very well-behaved Scala audience, and its hearty applause at the ends of acts, make it clear that on stage this must all have been very entertaining, and even bereft of vision the performance comes across with gusto. A little of the music is familiar through its use by Stravinsky in Pulcinella, and the ''enamoured brother's'' aria ''Ogni pena'' was once a favourite party-piece for male singers (collectors may remember a recording by de Luca), though here the part is taken, as in the original, by a soprano. Several of the solos are folky and simple, written in a bare top-and-bass texture (the ear often longs for some inner harmonic filling), but the upper-middle-class Roman sisters Nena and Nina have real dramma per musica arias (somewhat like Fiordiligi and Dorabella). Da capo form predominates, the reprises enlivened here by decorations (especially brilliant in Nina's ''Ti scaccio'' and Ascanio's ''Che boglio parlare''); and the orchestra consists only of strings and continuo except for Nena's long florid aria which opens Act 3, when a solo flute makes a welcome appearance. There are few ensembles, but one of the best numbers in the whole opera is the delightful Act 2 trio ''Se il foco mio'', which is sung with great spirit.

The sisters have the most developed music, and Felle and Manca di Nissa are both admirable, as is Focile as the young man whose affection for them both proves to have been fraternally inspired. Special mention should be made of d'Intino's rich-toned voice in her ''Morta tu mme vuoie vedere'', and the two maid-servants squabble and quarrel in fruity Naples back-street style (Vannella's aria ''Chi disse ca la femmena''—wrongly listed in the World Encyclopedia of Recorded Music III as the trio—is unusual in being in three differently-paced sections). The men are less notable: the part of the gouty old plebeian Neapolitan obviously calls for broad treatment, but it may be felt that Corbelli hams it up rather too much (at least to the ear alone) and he drags his big aria ''Gioia mia''; the intonation of di Cesare (the 'straight man') is not as exact as it might have been; and di Simone, as the pretentious and affected Don Pietro, is content to sing at one level of loudness throughout. However, as a whole the opera is reasonably well served; and this recording brings to life a work which for the most part has been known only by repute.-- Lionel Salter, Gramophone

  In 2010, the music world celebrates Pergolesi's 300th birthday.

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Verdi - Nabucco - Riccardo Muti,Manuguerra, Ghiaurov, Scotto, Philharmonia Orchestra

 

 

 

“Con quest’opera si può dire veramente che ebbe principio la mia carriera artistica.” (“It can truly be said that my artistic career began with this opera”). Verdi may perhaps be forgiven for taking artistic licence with this observation to Ricordi, his publisher. His previous works were the patchy and immature “Oberto” and the comic flop “Un giorno do regno”. “Nabucco” marks a huge advance over these. Verdi here begins to find his true voice, mining the rich seam of cantilena melody which characterises his best early work and adding to it both psychological profundity and economy of expression. Re-visiting this recording, I was struck by the tautness and impact of the libretto and plot. Verdi was as incapable as Shakespeare of creating cardboard characters and it is remarkable how both the villains of the piece, Abegaille and Nabucco himself, emerge as complex, tormented souls, far more absorbing than the supposed heroes. They are the forerunners of that long line of father-daughter pairs; Solera’s libretto stimulated Verdi’s imagination and his emotions at a time when he was trying to emerge from two years of grief and suffering, marked by personal loss and (comparative) artistic failure.The popularity of “Va, pensiero”, the emphasis upon spectacle, the four marches, unison choruses and brassy scoring all combine to support the reputation of “Nabucco” as the chauvinistic rallying-call of popular legend. However, in the admixture of private passion and political chicanery, certain situations and even specific musical ideas are clearly proleptic of later, greater works such as “Simon Boccanegra”, although the masterpiece it most resembles in mood, atmosphere and in its melding of extremes is perhaps “Aida”. Certainly his contemporaries thought well enough of it to choose its music to accompany Verdi’s funeral cortège. Riccardo Muti’s conducting of this 1977 recording has been condemned as crude and aggressive. He is hectic at times, to be sure, but that is hardly out of keeping with the swift pace of events and he still gives his singers space in the more contemplative passages.

The eponymous starring role is taken by a first class baritone. Manuguerra has a smooth, most sheerly beautiful voice, with plenty of sap in its upper reaches. Manuguerra delivers a detailed, compellingly vocalized account.
As Abegaille, a spinto soprano, as Renata Scotto had become by this stage of her career - provides the listener with thrills and vocal virtuosity. Scotto shares features of Callas’s delivery, including a biting articulation of text and the less recommendable lapses into flapping top notes when pressed at forte. When not pressing too hard, Scotto can still float the top and hers is a formidable firebrand of an Abegaille - she is the best actress of all. Given the intensity and conviction of Scotto’s performance, I am now much more forgiving of those squally high notes.

Nicolai Ghiaurov, who is rusty and occasionally bleak of tone at this stage in his career but still impressive makes a beautiful job of the aria “Tu sul labbro”, with its beguiling six-part cello accompaniment. Robert Lloyd is a notable High Priest for Muti; I wonder if I am the first to notice that he must have been absent for whatever reason (not worth paying him to sing so little?) during the second, 1978, recording session and thus we hear the unmistakable voice of Ghiaurov, deputizing for Lloyd in the High Priest’s one line in the finale. One of the great pleasures of the Muti set is to hear Veriano Luchetti in the brief and rather ungrateful role of Ismaele. His smooth, ringing, Italianate tenor is particularly admirable in the lovely trio “Io t’amava”.
The Ambrosian Chorus sounds a little lean but as ever they sing with verve and precision.

The Philharmonia respond with alacrity to Muti’s taut direction and the sound is excellent.--Ralph Moore

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