As has already been observed, the Victoria de los Ángeles: The Warner Classics Edition; Complete Recordings on His Master’s Voice & La Voix de son maître anthology offers a generous account of full-length opera performances. In dealing with the nineteenth-century repertoire, I decided that it might be appropriate to divide the “romantic” offerings from the early part of that century with more dramatic “post-romantic” operas that are more “at home” with operas from the early twentieth century. This article will focus on the earlier category, which is represented by only four composers: Gioachino Rossini (born in 1792), Giuseppe Verdi, (born in 1813), Charles Gounod (born in 1818), and Georges Bizet (born in 1838).
Rossini accounts for only one opera, The Barber of Seville; but de los Ángeles sang the role of Rosina for two recordings, the first made in June of 1952 and the second a little over ten years later in September of 1962. There are also two recordings of Gounod’s Faust, both of which involved longer recording sessions. The first was completed in June of 1953, having begun at the end of the preceding April. Recording of the second release began in September of 1958 and continued through early in the following month. However, the “church scene,” which begins the fourth act, was actually recorded in a church, the Église Saint-Roch in Paris.
Verdi is represented by two operas, both of which were recorded only once. The earlier of these is the more (most?) familiar La traviata, which was first performed in 1853. The other is Simon Boccanegra, whose original version was composed in 1957. However, it was given a major overhaul in 1881, which is the version that is usually performed (to the extent that this opera is performed at all these days). As most readers will have guessed, the Bizet opera is Carmen in the version in which all of the text is sung.
The conductors associated with these recordings make for an interesting assortment. As some might guess, both versions of Faust were led by the same conductor, who was (of course) French: André Cluytens. Tullio Serafin is the only other conductor to lead two operas. The earlier of these is the first Barber of Seville recording, and the other is La Traviata. The most eyebrow-raising conductor is Thomas Beecham, who led the performance of Carmen. That leaves two less-familiar conductors: Vittorio Gui for the second Barber of Seville and Gabriele Santini for Simon Boccanegra.
Unless I am mistaken, there is only one other vocalist with a major role in the collection. That is bass Boris Christoff; and his performance of Méphistophélès in Faust is definitely “worth the price of admission” (as they say). His other appearance is as Jacopo Fiesco in Boccanegra, and all I can say is that I wish I had been around to see him take this role on the stage.
This takes me to the more significant “punch line.” The conductors for all of these recordings tended to focus only on an interpretation of the score that is accurate but, in the absence of staging, not consistently expressive. Now, where an opera like Carmen is concerned, drama is critical; and the best the listener can do is reflect on a past encounter with particularly impressive staging. Given how little exposure it receives, Boccanegra is never quite up to snuff, particularly when led by a conductor who was best in his element when in an opera house.
By this time the reader is probably worrying that de los Ángeles is being treated like a “bit player.” I suspect that, had I the opportunity to see her on the stage, I might have had more to say about her. However, I fear that, over the course of my listening, I never really warmed up to any efforts she may have made to establish the nature of her character (had she made those efforts at all). The best I can say is that she made a dutiful effort to follow the conductor and do justice to the marks on paper, but I never encountered very much by way of dramatic intent.
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