IL TROVATORE ON DISC: THE STRONGEST ENTRIES
--Geoffrey Riggs
THE
TOP SETS
I've found
that two sets above all tend to be singled out more frequently
than any others, and I find myself in agreement that these two
are head and shoulders over any others, fine as some of the others
are.
The two
are (in chronological order) a monaural set made for RCA in 1952
with Jussi Bjoerling (Manrico), Fedora Barbieri (Azucena), Zinka
Milanov (Leonora) and Leonard Warren (Di Luna) and a "live"
performance from 1962, now available on DG (I have an earlier
pressing on GALA), with Franco Corelli (Manrico), Giulietta Simionato
(Azucena), Leontyne Price (Leonora) and Ettore Bastianini (Di
Luna). Renato Cellini conducts the RCA set and Herbert Von Karajan
the DG (to be distinguished, BTW, from other studio DG sets with
Bergonzi, Domingo et al).
The two
sets could not draw a more striking contrast, and it's a sign
of the greatness of this opera that it can accommodate two such
widely different approaches. It is also a tribute to the superb
conviction in both these recordings that each of them, distinct
as they are, can make one forget every other interpretation while
one is under either's spell. Everyone is in fine voice on both.
Where
the RCA is all poetry and elegant song, the DG is all fire and
passion. Where the RCA boasts utterly natural, unobtrusive conducting
from Cellini that facilitates the singers projecting their lines
with the ease of cultivated speech, the DG has in Karajan a veritable
ringleader who charges up his flamboyant principals into feats
of sheer daring and brio that take the breath away. Mystery rules
on the RCA, but spontaneity wins out for DG. The RCA can make
one cry. The DG can make one cheer. One is poetry, the other theater.
They are perfect opposites. Typical of this is the contrast between
Jussi Bjoerling's Manrico and Franco Corelli's. Bjoerling's is
a considerably more lyrical sound than Corelli's, but he has a
true grasp of the bel canto style and is ever the alert musician.
He does not bring as personal a sense of himself in portraying
the role, though. Corelli's greater vocal power may be closer
to the kind of vocal persona that Verdi had in mind, and his engagement
with the character is far more intense, while his musicianship
and grasp of bel canto phrasing is not impeccable.
I've never
been able to make a choice between these two sets, and I wouldn't
want to. I'm glad I can hear both any time.
COMPLETER
SETS
All that
said, one should be aware that both these sets have certain traditional
cuts that were long standard.
So if
you want to have almost as compelling a set that will include
much more of the music -- although not quite literally complete
-- two others are worth checking out: Karajan's early mono set
(EMI, 1956) with Giuseppe Di Stefano (Manrico), Fedora Barbieri
(Azucena), Maria Callas (Leonora) and Rolando Panerai (Di Luna);
and the best-conducted studio set of all, featuring Maestro Tullio
Serafin at the podium, with Carlo Bergonzi (Manrico), Fiorenza
Cossotto (Azucena), Antonietta Stella (Leonora) and Ettore Bastianini
(Di Luna) (a stereo release on DG, 1962).
Vocally,
neither of these are as consistently satisfying as the two "winners",
but they are viable sets that are worthwhile for their clear,
honest presentation of the original structure of Verdi's score.
The '56
Karajan is a dramatically engrossing heartfelt reading
from everyone all the way through, and Barbieri's Azucena shows
somewhat more technical authority, including the requisite trills,
than on the '52 RCA, even though the general vocalism, per
se, is not as fresh and sweeping.
Don't
look for the vocal authority of a Bjoerling or a Corelli in Di
Stefano. In fact, there are places where one can hear him straining
his voice quite a bit. But he does bring extraordinary sincerity
and unfailing tenderness to his music. Callas too is under some
vocal strain, although she's actually in somewhat better control
all the same than Di Stefano here, IMO. And interpretively, I've
always found her Leonora quite the most compelling of them all.
Ultimately, it is the contributions of the two divas here that
put the cap on the unfailing drama of this set.
The '62
Serafin set is distinguished most by conducting that is unsurpassed
by anyone but Serafin himself elsewhere (see below) and by the
sheer authority of its two brothers: Bergonzi's Manrico and Bastianini's
Di Luna are much more assured than their counterparts on the '56
Karajan. OTOH, the drama is not as vivid here as on the '56 Karajan,
primarily because Cossotto's Azucena and Stella's Leonora do not
bring the same individuality to these roles that we hear in Barbieri
and Callas.
Bergonzi's
vocal power is roughly equidistant between Bjoerling's and Corelli's.
His scrupulous adherence to the bel canto music is striking, and
his reading of the music otherwise is unusually sensitive and
imaginative, IMO. For a combination of bel canto sufficiency,
variety of shading, genuine Italianate warmth, and ever-alert
musicianship, Bergonzi may bring together just about the most
complete package heard anywhere in this role. He may not establish
any benchmarks in any one area, but many would claim that his
is the Manrico with the fewest flaws. Tullio Serafin leads the
most imaginative, as well as the most natural and cohesive, account
of the score yet heard in any high-fidelity recording. A shame
that Stella's rich-voiced Leonora not only fails to match the
vividness of Callas with Karajan but cannot really compete with
many other better-disciplined accounts on disc. But, though Cossotto's
Azucena also lacks some personality, it's intriguing hearing this
sumptuously sung Azucena at a point when it was still developing
into the grand imposing finished interpretation heard in the next
recording.
Not quite
as compelling as the '56 Karajan or the '62 Serafin but the least
problematic of those few sets that are literally complete would
be a certain stereo RCA set from ca. 1970: Placido Domingo (Manrico),
Fiorenza Cossotto (Azucena), Leontyne Price (Leonora) and Sherrill
Milnes (Di Luna). Zubin Mehta conducts.
Some fans
whom I know find certain things wrong with this recording. It
does not seem to have the full vividness of feeling and inner
compulsion heard in the greatest Trovatores. Moreover,
although its title role (Manrico, the "troubadour" of
the title) is sung by a very young Domingo with both the requisite
darker melancholy colors needed for the part and the basic mechanical
facility needed for the bel canto pyrotechnics higher up, Domingo,
nevertheless, does not have, IMO, even when young, quite the kind
of ringing sense of abandon that is ideal for Manrico, and which
we hear somewhat more of in Bjoerling and in abundance in Corelli,
nor the full variety of shading and dynamics heard in the greatest
Manricos.
But this
set can still be regarded as a "reference" recording
musically, and I admit I will sometimes check up a certain
passage in this work by cueing up this recording before others
when I don't have the energy to find my score and open it up the
way I should;-) That's how reliable this set is. I just know I
can depend on it as a reading of Verdi's music, neat.
And in
Cossotto's fully matured Azucena, we have one of the most commanding
accounts of Azucena's music, all her music and nothing but her
music, on disc, encompassing a ringing high C in Act II.
Then there
is another set that is "completer than complete". It's
on DECCA/ London, and it features Luciano Pavarotti, Marilyn Horne,
Joan Sutherland and Ingvar Wixell. Richard Bonynge conducts. The
chief virtues in this set lie in its respect for the bel canto
aspects of the score and in the reclamation (at least in the LP
edition, not certain re the CD) of the Act III ballet that Verdi
wrote for the Paris revision. Not even the Mehta has this section,
and even though this ballet is hardly top-drawer Verdi and is
not part of the original opera, it's valuable having a well-recorded,
uncut reading of this sequence.
Pavarotti's
Manrico has virtues somewhat similar to Bjoerling's. At the same
time, although Pavarotti brings greater warmth than Bjoerling
to much of the music, that is offset by Pavarotti's tendency to
less vocal resilience and energy. Also, although Pavarotti's instrument
does have a somewhat warmer timbre, his musicianship isn't quite
so secure. On the plus side, unlike Bjoerling (at least on the
Cellini set), Pavarotti does deliver a pair of neat trills, as
well as meshing well with his distinguished bel canto Leonora
throughout. In fact, Sutherland's Leonora delivers the coloratura
as brilliantly as anyone on disc. The same is true of Horne as
Azucena.
This set
does not have the kind of electricity heard in the Salzburg, nor
the warmth and tenderness of the Cellini, but it occupies a niche
as one of the best-mannered, vocally, of all the recordings available.
One only wishes Wixell's Di Luna had a richer tone. Also, more
critically, the conducting does not even have the brio or the
individuality of Mehta's, let alone Cellini's or von Karajan's.
(Of course, no one's compares to Serafin's.)
SINGER
SETS
Now we
come to a richly populated crop of recordings, which, for some
listeners, are just as special in their way as the fine ensemble
ones already cited, but which I might suggest are better for those
listeners who already have a nodding acquaintance with the work
from other more generally consistent performances across the board
(like the above).
To understand
the point of such sets, one must also understand that Trovatore
is, above all, a singer's opera, and for many listeners, they
will select whatever set may provide -- for them -- the single
most satisfying reading of a single role. Clearly, the title role,
Manrico, is a key factor. But Verdi himself regarded Azucena as
the prima donna of the piece, and at the same time, many view
a Trovatore as pointless unless the Leonora is utterly
superb. (Even though I do view the pecking order of importance
of the top three roles as being Manrico/Azucena/Leonora, most
do not heed the composer and instead regard the pecking order
as Manrico/Leonora/Azucena; I do concede the point that, for sheer
complexity of vocalism, Leonora may well be the most bewildering
to master properly.) One also needs a commanding presence at the
podium, but one which will also give the singers their head at
the most emotional moments. Surprisingly, this is not that easy
to find, so the existence of sets distinguished most by an alert
conductor are valuable and worth some scrutiny.
This "niche"
class can arguably be divided into four groups: great Manrico
sets, great Azucena sets, great Leonora sets (I don't know of
any who stake their choice on the Di Luna, but you never know.....)
and great conductor sets.
MANRICO
SETS
Manrico
requires -- ideally -- a spinto (full-bodied, ample-toned, trumpeting)
kind of tenor with long breath, pealing top notes and adept bel
canto facility, including a good trill. The only genuinely spinto
tenor of the past century who also started out with bel canto
roles like Arturo in Puritani, etc., is Giacomo Lauri-Volpi of
the '20s and '30s and '40s. Other than Lauri-Volpi, one either
has relative lyric tenors with some bel canto finesse or true
spintos who must sacrifice some of the bel canto requirements.
Unfortunately
-- IMHO -- Lauri-Volpi recorded the role somewhat too late in
his career to do full justice to what had evidently been a unique
assumption during his prime. But we do have early excerpts from
his prime that show convincingly just what an unreal Manrico this
phenomenon was.
As to
the two complete recordings, rather than being smack dab in the
'20s or '30s, Lauri-Volpi can only be heard in the early '50s,
when, among other things, some of his bel canto attainments seem
compromised -- again, IMHO. One recording is a "live"
performance opposite Callas (1951) and the other is a studio recording
from around the same time. From the standpoint of Lauri-Volpi,
the studio recording (it was made for Cetra, and Miriam Pirazzini
and Caterina Mancini are the Azucena and Leonora, with Fernando
Previtali conducting) may be somewhat preferable.
What remains
special about L.-V.'s Manrico, even here, is the sheer authenticity
of his sound, up to still ringing top notes even at this late
stage in his career. The voice as a "face" and as an
aural persona is Manrico. It's as simple as that. And when
we consider that L.-V.'s training stretches back to mentors who
walked the earth when Verdi still lived and influenced things,
the special historic value of Lauri-Volpi's recording is readily
apparent. There is nothing puny about Lauri-Volpi's recorded Manrico.
It is Grandissimo (however occasionally tattered).
Other
Manricos of L.-V.'s generation managed to record Trovatore
while still in their prime: Aureliano Pertile and Francesco Merli.
Both their recordings come from 1930. Pertile's reading is full
of nuance and ferment, at times delicate and tender, at times
violent and somewhat unmusical for some. He does not have the
ease of vocal abundance of a Lauri-Volpi (who does?). But there
are a hundred and one colors in his voice, and he uses them all.
His is one of the most individual interpretations you'll ever
hear. Just don't expect clean vocalism.
Merli
is one of my personal favorites. Though not as richly nuanced
as Pertile, he is still fully engaged in the part and far more
musical. And his voice is (almost) as authentic an instrument
for the role as Lauri-Volpi, IMO. There is nothing, either dramatically
or vocally, that is slipshod in his Manrico. He may not have the
solid bel canto facility of Domingo, but he does not bend phrases
out of shape the way some others do. And he projects an affecting
personality throughout. This is as solid and musical a reading
as we can expect from a genuinely spinto tenor who is not the
young Lauri-Volpi.
MANRICOS
OF A LATER GENERATION
Once one
understands that the choices for Manrico in later generations
veer between the fuller lyrics with true bel canto facility and
the spintos with (usually) deeper empathy for such a heroic role
but less bel canto facility, it's easier to range some of the
conflicting choices along clearer lines. Going back to the two
classic sets first recommended at the top, Bjoerling is a very
full lyric with impeccable musicianship, elegant and truly bel
canto phrasing, while Corelli is the swashbuckling hero incarnate
with a tingling sense of doom throughout and boundless heroic
energy in the voice. Neither give us everything that the younger
Lauri-Volpi evidently gave, but they each throw themselves into
what they can do with unstinting dedication. At his best,
Bjoerling sang the bel canto intricacies of the part more adeptly
than anyone, IMO, while Corelli gave more of a sense of pure romance
than any other spinto, IMO. They balance each other in their equal
supremacy in what they, uniquely, could offer.
Yet, though
both do a fine job in the two top sets, their very finest Manricos
are to be heard elsewhere.
For Bjoerling
at his most adept, trills (absent in the classic RCA/Cellini),
pianissimi and all, his one unique Manrico, featuring a more scrupulous
reading of Manrico's music than I have heard anywhere else, is
a "live" 1939 performance from Covent Garden, conducted
by Vittorio Gui. (This is available only on certain specialty
labels, Legato, Bel Canto, Urania, and so on.) Nothing in Manrico's
music is shirked, and this is not only a triumph of purely musical
conscience, Bjoerling brings a heartfelt commitment and breathtaking
imagination to his singing here that was not always associated
with him. It may not be merely the finest Manrico of his career
but the finest extant example of his singing, period. Unforgettable.
The sound quality of this broadcast is strictly so-so.
Corelli's
finest Manrico, IMO, comes a few months after the landmark DG
broadcast with Von Karajan. Instead of the summer of '62, we go
to December of '62, Opening Night at La Scala, with Gianandrea
Gavazzeni in the pit. (For a while, this performance was available
on a Melodram CD.) Here, Corelli gives us his most simpatico and
his most imaginative reading.
Frankly,
I also feel that, in many ways, this performance may be the closest
to what Lauri-Volpi might have given us in his prime. Clearly,
the one ingredient missing may be the fully authentic response
to the bel canto graces heard in Lauri-Volpi's earliest Bellini
(et al) records. Corelli cannot give us quite that kind of suppleness.
But he is hardly sparing of some ravishing pianissimos, ambitiously
molded -- and long! -- phrases, imaginative nuances and intimate
tendernesses that bring the humanness of the role alive as no
one else has, I feel.
Corelli
gives one the sense that he will never settle. Everything comes
from "inside", so to speak, in the same alive way that
Pertile makes one feel that Manrico is always "in the moment"
-- with the advantage that Corelli is capable of greater vocal
suavity, not least because his instrument is simply so sumptuous.
This Dec. '62 Manrico occupies as unique a position in its way
as the '39 Bjoerling.
One other
Manrico of the LP era splits the difference between Bjoerling
and Corelli, and for that reason, some listeners view him as a
better compromise than Bjoerling or Corelli, even though he may
not be as charismatic an artist (though some would dispute that):
Richard Tucker.
Personally,
I view Tucker's recording (1959, under Basile) as having come
somewhat late for him -- not in terms of vocal "chops",
as his voice seems in good control, but in terms of musical approach.
There is something stern and clipped about it, IMHO: his Italian
can be percussive, and the stance is definitely more that of the
warrior than the lover or the "troubadour". That said,
the voice is undeniably spinto, although not quite as powerful-sounding
in this recording as Corelli's, despite its being closer in size
to Corelli's than to Bjoerling's. And wonder of wonders, his basic
bel canto assurance throughout the role, including two sturdy
trills, places him in a musical league with Bjoerling and Domingo,
neither of whom have quite such ringing and powerful tones as
Tucker has. Tucker's is the most powerful-voiced reading available
to follow all the bel canto intricacies.
AZUCENA
SETS
For me,
Fedora Barbieri, Giulietta Simionato and, in the Mehta recording,
Fiorenza Cossotto are three of the top four Azucenas on disc.
There is one very special Simionato set yet to go: her stereo
DECCA/LONDON set from the '50s. This is actually quite well-recorded,
and it captures the sound of all three of its principals vividly
and naturally. Mario Del Monaco is Manrico, Giulietta Simionato
is Azucena and the Leonora is Renata Tebaldi. Unfortunately, the
Di Luna is distinctly sub-par.......
Though
Barbieri's Azucena is sui generis for its evocation of the terror
that surrounds this character and the deep rich tones that she
can draw on, Simionato's is notable for an even wider range of
vocal shading. She may not have quite so imposing a sound, but
it is certainly very strong, and it encompasses a bigger range,
facilitating an exciting high C (it's in the score!) at the conclusion
of Act II, Scene 1. Simionato eschews the high C in her later
performances, and Barbieri skirts around it in all her recordings.
Equally striking, IMO, despite the impressive size of her voice,
Simionato's control over the bel canto reqs. in her role shows
considerable fluency. At least, it is certainly more fluent than
Barbieri's in '52 if not Barbieri's more technically disciplined,
less vocally easy, self later on. Yet even at her best, Simionato,
musically and technically, is not quite so impeccable as Cossotto.
On the other hand, I personally find Simionato much more expressive
than Cossotto, heartfelt as the latter is. Simionato's combination
of some bel canto sufficiency, an abundance of dramatic
insight, proper strength for the climaxes, and an easy top, as
heard in the Del Monaco set, arguably make her unique among recorded
Azucenas. She is "assisted";-) by a Manrico (Del Monaco)
who has to be the most powerful-voiced Manrico anywhere on disc(!),
albeit one with nowhere near as much imagination or tenderness
as Corelli, Pertile, Merli, or Lauri-Volpi.
A latter-day
representation of Azucena's music come scritto is heard
in the fourth great Azucena on disc: Dolora Zajick on a state-of-the-art
SONY CD made in the early 1990s. While not as individual a reading
as Simionato's, Zajick's Azucena reflects a sheer technical mastery
that is superior. In fact, it is fully on a Cossotto level, complete
with crisp trills, assured flexibility throughout and an easy
high C. This set as a whole is not as satisfactory, though, as
any of the Cossotto sets, entirely because of Zajick's generally
less preferable colleagues. James Levine does a reasonably creditable
job at the podium, but Domingo's Manrico is heard past its best,
and Millo's Leonora, while occasionally affecting, does not have
the full flexibility of other great ones. Vladimir Chernov sings
Di Luna. Ultimately, this set is chiefly valuable for being the
best-engineered recording to provide a fully satisfactory rendition
of Azucena's music.
LEONORA
SETS
There
is a studio recording of Il Trovatore released by EMI with
Franco Corelli, Giulietta Simionato, Gabriella Tucci and Robert
Merril (Thomas Schippers) - with the choir and orchestra of the
Teatro dell'opera di Roma. The set was made in 1964.
To dispose
of my two pet peeves here first: although Corelli is hardly monochromatic
here(!), I find that he lacks the full range of dynamic nuance
and shading heard from him in one or two "live" performances.
Most important, IMO, he lacks the full tenderness he brought to
the role elsewhere. It just seems more intermittent to me. And
I'm bothered by that.
My other
peeve is Giulietta Simionato, whose Azucena at its best (on the
Del Monaco recording on DECCA/LONDON) vies with Fedora Barbieri's
as one of the most probing interpretations to be heard anywhere.
But on this Corelli/Schippers set made in 1964, she strikes me
as sadly worn. The silver lining, though, is that -- unlike the
flaws in Corelli here -- Simionato's failings here are somewhat
more in line with the character. One can sort of tie it into an
admittedly stirring dramatic reading. But there's so much
more than that plus the same drama in her earlier rendition. Ideally,
Corelli and Simionato could be a deeply stirring son/"mother"
partnership. But what looks good on paper doesn't fully come off.
To hear these two together in representative form, stick with
the Salzburg.
And what's
good here? The deeply affecting and musical Leonora of Gabriella
Tucci and the rich enveloping tones of Robert Merrill as Di Luna.
In fact, Act IV, Scene 1 pairs the two of them unforgettably.
Tucci, though without quite the vocal amplitude of some other
great Leonoras, is in masterly control, IMO, and brings both musical
genius and heartfelt warmth to the role. Every phrase that she
sings here she clearly believes. Quite an artist. This
is why I count this as primarily a "Leonora set".
And when
she's matched up with Merrill in IV, 1, we can savor the yin of
Merrill's sumptuous vocalism to the yang of Tucci's soulful phrasing.
Merrill was quite simply the most sumptuous baritone voice I've
ever heard in person. One was not always aware of his trying to
be loud, yet at the same time, when he sang, the tone seemed to
be everywhere. It was thrilling: easy, utterly natural, rolling.
And I have to say this Trovatore is one of the best documents
of the sheer sound of that voice ever made.
Even more
deeply stirring is the Leonora of Leyla Gencer in 1957. She is
heard in a "live" RAI broadcast opposite Mario Del Monaco's
Manrico (heard here in finer form than on the Simionato/Tebaldi
set) and Fedora Barbieri's Azucena (sounding roughly the same
as on the Di Stefano recording). Ettore Bastianini sings Di Luna.
This entire performance is a solid, energetic reading, led by
Fernando Previtali, where nothing much goes amiss, and everyone
is in authoritative form. I may not find it as uniformly incandescent
as the top two, but, at the same time, I would gladly find it
the equal of the Di Stefano, the DG Bergonzi and the Domingo/Mehta
sets if only the traditional cuts were opened up here.
What remains
indelible is Gencer's youthful Leonora, and it's nice to hear
a Leonora of this stature surrounded by a generally more assured
cast all around than Tucci has on the more uneven Schippers. Incandescent
is precisely what Gencer's Leonora becomes during this performance,
although she takes her time getting there. There are distinct
pitch problems early on, and a fair amount of aspirates as well.
Her first scene has its flaws, no question. But she is already
deeply in the character, and her vocalism improves markedly in
Acts II and III. Then, in the crucial fourth-act aria, her vivid
longing in the vocal "face", the genuinely expressive
trills and the gossamer pianissimi combine for an impact that
places her level with the finest interpreters of this scene on
disc. She continues strong throughout the final act and sets her
stamp on this performance. This is that rare thing: a "Leonora"
set that has no egregious flaws otherwise, even though Gencer
outshines everyone else, IMO.
There
remains Maria Callas. Although there are tentative moments in
her commercially recorded set under Karajan opposite Di Stefano,
no such problems are heard in her earliest and most spontaneous
Trovatore ("live"). Some prefer one or two later
ones, but I feel her earliest Trovatore really shows her
at her most fluent (she never equalled her earliest breakneck
reading of the conclusion of Act IV, Scene 1). Here, we have spontaneity,
intelligence, vocal amplitude, a huge range, impeccable technical
control, astounding musicianship, crackling verbal projection,
and the easiest agility rolled into one. It's a shame that artistry
of this magnitude had to crumble away so fast and so precipitously.
This first
Callas Trovatore is from Mexico City in 1950. And her Di
Luna is none other than Leonard Warren. If there is any rendition
of IV, 1 that rivals the Tucci/Merrill performance, it's the Callas/Warren
one heard here. The overused word "electrifying" fully
applies. And Simionato is once more heard as a fresh and vibrant
Azucena!
The catch?
Three, and they're biggies.
The sound
is only so-so.
The conducting
is pretty uninspired, IMO.
And some
readers may have read one or two disparaging remarks from others
concerning the Manrico heard here: Kurt Baum. Very frankly, IMHO,
those barbs are sadly deserved. Honestly, long before I read any
such remarks, I always looked on Baum as a high C and nothing
else. His Manrico strikes me as being fully as awful as any Manrico
I have ever heard. I find he ruins the set pretty much. This set
is useful primarily for its uniquely accomplished and compelling
Leonora and a happy partnership with a fine Di Luna.
A
CONDUCTOR'S SET
Finally,
another Trovatore brings together three of the most positive
contributors to the discography in one set: a 1951 Naples performance,
available in fairly drab sound, under Tullio Serafin, featuring
Lauri-Volpi, Elmo, Callas and Silveri. With the potent trio of
Serafin, Lauri-Volpi and a young, secure Callas, this would seem,
on paper, to be in a class with the Cellini and the Salzburg.
But Lauri-Volpi sounds even less comfortable than in his studio
set with Mancini, IMO, Elmo's Azucena lacks some of the individuality
of the greatest Azucenas, without the full bel canto assurance
of either Cossotto or Zajick to compensate, and Callas, though
still young and secure, can not quite match the energy and agility
in her crucial confrontation with Di Luna that we hear in Mexico.
Only Serafin comes through with a reading that is even more incandescent
than his studio outing on DG. That is, the orchestra may sometimes
be a bit scrappy, but the general sweep, lyricism, phrasing and
tempi reach a level of inspiration and assurance and unity here
unmatched on any other recording. Hardly a negligible set, then,
but not entirely the "contenda" it could have been.
And the sound remains a stumbling block to those used to the well-engineered
Serafin reading on DG. Some listeners, though, can still acclimate
themselves fairly rapidly to these drab sonics, thanks to the
compelling magic from the podium.