Il trovatore has long enjoyed the reputation of being an opera whose plot thoroughly confuses audiences the world over, but no matter, the tunes invariably carry the evening and everyone present has a rousing good time. 

It may be some comfort for such audiences to know that even singers recording the opera can become muddled by its complexities. Almost 20 years ago, when RCA recorded its first version of the opera with Milanov, Barbieri, Björling and Warren, we had finally arrived at the last session after an extremely sporadic schedule, recording of necessity around the Metropolitan Opera appearances of the principals. It was an evening session with only the fourth act duet of Leonora and di Luna, 'Mira di acerbe lagrime', remaining, and it was soon evident it would be a high point in an already superb performance.

And so it was, sung with such brio and elan that both Milanov and Warren realized it represented them at their best. I pressed the intercom button between recording control room and hall, thanked the orchestra profusely and was amazed to see Warren burst into our quarters visibly agitated. 'Don't send them home', he shouted, 'We're not finished!' I looked at him, Milanov looked at him, Renato Cellini, the conductor, looked at him. Leonard was leafing frantically through the score, muttering 'we still have another duet to do', but the pages turned more slowly, then stopped, and with a sheepish grin he looked up and said, 'Well, yes, we are finished, aren't we?' 

Such confusion is understandable. Like Simon Boccanegra, Il trovatore boasts a plot part of which has already occurred before the curtain goes up, and if you don't know beforehand what Azucena and her mother had been up to years ago, the ensuing libretto can leave you just as muddled as Manrico. Additionally, the score is a succession of so-called 'hit tunes' pouring forth with such vitality and in such abundance that logic and reason quickly succumb to the captivated ear. An average opera-house performance, given the exceptional cast, can become almost a series of variety turns, each aria, duet and ensemble existing on its own terms, each stopping the show to hysterical acclaim, while the next singer due on stage prepares to outshine his predecessor or die in the attempt. Such performances of Il trovatore are blood-tingling in their excitement, but they often fail as a total emotional experience. One sees the trees, but no forest; one admires each jewel in the necklace but disregards the manner in which all are assembled. 

Recording has the obvious advantage over the opera house of no audience interruptions. But Il trovatore needs even more than that. To round it out, to present it as Verdi first envisaged it, all standard cuts must be restored. Actually few have been made through the years, with the important exception of Leonora's last act aria, 'Tu vedrai che amore in terra', which immediately succeeds the 'Miserere'; but repeating the cabalettas to each aria, acknowledging the brief duet with off-stage organ between Leonora and Manrico prior to 'Di quella pira' and bringing back minor recitative cuts results in a performance of less than 15 additional minutes but infinitely more impressive in its totality. 

In a way, Il trovatore is an RCA opera. No less than three versions have been recorded by us in less than 20 years. We have been fortunate each time in having that mandatory exceptional cast. The second RCA recording heralded the arrival of Leontyne Price in her Metropolitan Opera debut and starred Rosalind Elias, Richard Tucker and Warren again with Arturo Basile conducting the orchestra and chorus of the Teatro dell'Opera in Rome. Now almost 10 years later, comes the first complete version we have ever recorded, this time with Plácido Domingo in the title-role, Price repeating her unique Leonora, Fiorenza Cossotto as Azucena, Sherrill Milnes as di Luna, Bonaldo Giaotti as Ferrando, Ryland Davies and Elizabeth Bainbridge in the brief but telling roles of Ruiz and Inez, Zubin Mehta conducting the New Philharmonia Orchestra and the Ambrosian Opera Chorus. With such an array of talent, one thinks immediately of the Meyerbeer nights of the Seven Stars in Les Huguenots, and to a certain extent, Il trovatore represents a distillation of the Meyerbeer technique, condensed and refined into more immediate dramatic impact. Not for nothing has it been said that any opera house capable of producing, with its roster, a first class Trovatore can also do the bulk of the standard repertoire within the same season and using the same forces. 

For Il trovatore is a singer's opera par excellence. Without great voices allied to great artistry, best to leave it unperformed. All too often has it been a vehicle for caterwauling sopranos, stentorian tenors, bellowing baritones and histrionic mezzos. Even today, particularly in Italy, one encounters the 'All speed ahead, hurdy-gurdy' style where sustained high notes, good or bad, coupled with a mad scramble in the orchestra leave the audience screaming either enthusiastically or in sheer frustration. 

It is an opera whose music is strongly accented, whose dynamic contrasts are extreme, whose tempi demand absolute steadiness, at times veering almost to rigidity – if the word is not taken too literally! The principals in Il trovatore have a certain catatonic quality. Each represents some irresistible force rushing blindly against its own immovable object, and over all broods the same dark Spanish arrogance that Verdi had first attempted in Ernani and was later to amplify in Don Carlo and La forza del destino. 

With La traviata and Rigoletto, Il trovatore benefits from a libretto encumbered with no extraneous detail. They are operas designed for the theatre, for essential drama, and that they also embody some of the world's greatest music makes each of them unique in its own frame of reference. In Trovatore Verdi also cleverly juxtaposes his principals for maximum contrast, both musically and dramatically. In Act 1, Leonora and Manrico establish themselves as lovers endangered by the Count di Luna. In Act 2, Azucena and Manrico provide a counterbalance with an affecting mother-son relationship strongly tinged with overtones of vengeance against di Luna. Act 3 brings the conflicting forces together in the Convent Scene, minus Azucena, but even so her unseen presence is felt until she next appears in the great confrontation between herself and di Luna, culminating in the savage outburst, 'Deh, rallentate, o barbari'. The two final scenes of Act 4 are masterful in their succinctness and telling drama. 

It is a pity stage performances of Act 4 omit Leonora's aria after the 'Miserere' since it provides the necessary final third to the tripartite scene beginning with 'D'amor sull'ali rosee' with the 'Miserere' as the central buttress, the whole rounded off by the Leonora-di Luna duet. The scene shifts to Azucena and Manrico in prison. Their haunting 'Ai nostri monti' breaks off with the entrance of Leonora and the subsequent arrival of di Luna brings the four-way conflict to its inevitable close. 

Given the complete performance sung with artistry and close attention to Verdi's dynamic markings, Il trovatore becomes a life-enhancing experience. It is eminently satisfactory as a musico-dramatic evening, but even more so perhaps within the confines of the recording studio where repetition affords the opportunity, sometimes elusive in realization, to make it even better. After more than 20 years of recording over 40 complete operas for RCA, I am still impressed, even thrilled, by hearing how the intelligent artist adjusts to the microphone and recorded performance. With the really great ones, little guidance or correction is needed. That first playback speaks louder than any words in demonstrating what under-playing and intimacy of approach can do to secure the desired effect. No longer is it necessary to fill a mammoth house with every vocal resource you have. Instead, the microphone is some eight feet away, ready to realize every vocal subtlety, every textual inflection you can provide. 

One artist phrased it rather neatly some years ago by saying, ;You make love to the microphone, and it loves you back'. The present recording was made with just such love, plus hard work, concentration, and what might be termed a dedicated passion on the part of all concerned. There were 12 sessions at Walthamstow Town Hall, sessions that had as an extensive basis the previous spring's new production at the Met conducted by Mehta in which all the principals sang at one time or another. With those performances serving as a rehearsal background, the recording several months later went perfectly. 

It is not for me to praise the end result, prejudiced as I am in its favour, nor for me to single out moments particularly well done, but I will mention one small passage in the final act. Ruiz escorts Leonora to the walls of the dungeon in which Manrico is confined. He has one line to sing, 'Siam giunti. Ecco la torre ...' and never have I heard so brief a recitative sung with such just simplicity and dramatic expression as Ryland Davies brings to it. When the miniscule mosaics of the score are realized with the same artistry as the larger sections, the overall cannot be but superb.