Peter Diamand has been the eminence grise behind both Barenboim's recordings of this opera. He was in charge of the Edinburgh Festival when the work was given there with virtually the cast that then recorded it for EMI. Now he is listed as Artistic Co-ordinator for the new Erato set, so it is perhaps not surprising that it has many resemblances with that made 15 years earlier. The similarities also extend to the conductor's own approach which has changed little between the two versions: he continues to favour a forceful, big-scale reading with often deliberate speeds for the slower numbers, a musically accomplished, thought-through account of the crucial finales to Acts 2 and 4, lively treatment of the recitative, finely-honed playing of the wind, alert rhythms and an avoidance for the most part of appoggiaturas.
There are, however, two main differences. For better and worse he has the Berlin Philharmonic on the new set. As was the case with his recent Erato recording of Cosi fan tutte (reviewed 10/90), the playing evinces the utmost refinement and warmth of timbre, as one would expect from this quarter, but the sound is, to my taste, too fat, too nineteenth century for Mozart. As EG pointed out when surveying all versions of the G minor Symphony, K550 on BBC Radio 3's ''Record Review'' recently, a big band does now sound inappropriate in Mozart's music. EG there rightly preferred a chamber orchestra and that's what Barenboim used back in 1976. The other drawback to the later set, concomitant on the first, is the very open, large-scale recording as though we were hearing a theatre performance from some distance. If you care for that kind of approach it is well done here, with excellent stereo separation among the singers and clear definition all round, but these factors do give the performance a slightly stiff-limbed tread—especially when compared with some of the old favourites in this work. I seldom found this a Figaro that kept me listening afresh to the music. It pleased but never astonished me.
It is more equally cast than his Cosi fan tutte. In comparison with the 1976 recording there are almost inevitably gains and losses. The new version has a dark-hued, beautiful and rather serious Countess in Lella Cuberli, shapely and smooth in phrasing but not quite as individual as the sharper-voiced, more pointed Heather Harper in the EMI set. As Cuberli's Count, Andreas Schmidt sings with less profile, but a firmer line and a better focused voice than Fischer-Dieskau: Schmidt's account of the Count's aria is as accomplished a piece of Mozart singing as one could wish to hear. Joan Rodgers is just preferable to her excellent, brighter-toned and stylish predecessor, Judith Blegen. Rodgers catches all the mercurial quality of Susanna yet sings with a voice that is secure and warm, her Fourth Act aria sensuously sung. She is also splendid in her encounters with Cecilia Bartoli's vital, sparky Cherubino, sappy in tone, happily idiomatic with the text, expert in her phrasing of her arias, though no more so than Teresa Berganza, still in 1976 fresh, lively and near-ideal for this part.
John Tomlinson is much better suited by Figaro than he was by Alfonso, but still wants in tonal focus, something that matters less on stage than on record where fuzzy tone isn't much appreciated, but he does at all times create a lively personality, a force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately for him Sir Geraint Evans is even more individual in his characterization—listen to the recitative before his Act 4 aria—and has the more agile voice, helped by the fact that it tends more towards the baritonal. Don Basilio seems to be almost a monopoly for British tenors. Nash, Dickie, Tear, Fryatt (Barenboim, 1976) have all recorded it; Graham Clark is as good as any among them (although the Italian Ugo Benelli on the Haitink/EMI set is best of all). I marginally prefer the Bartolo, Marcellina and Antonio on the earlier set, and as Barbarina, the sweet-toned Elizabeth Gale is certainly preferable to her wispy successor.
If you want Barenboim as your guide through this work, you will have to decide between the undoubted accomplishments of the new version, in addition to its completeness—the EMI excludes Marcellina's aria—and the more closely integrated, and closely balanced, performance on EMI, which benefited from coming straight off the stage and from Suvi Raj Grubb's experience as producer. Of course, the latter also comes in at mid-price; it's hard to justify the extra outlay. Although I enjoyed the consistency of approach in both sets, neither would be my first choice. The well-rehearsed merits of the Solti and Erich Kleiber (both Decca), Giulini (EMI) and Haitink make them preferable. All to my mind are more genuinely Mozartian: even though they use fairly large orchestras they manage to keep the textures lighter. Solti, closest to the new Barenboim version, has an even better cast. Kleiber's command of structure and drama is even more palpable than Barenboim's. Haitink's comparatively recent version, with a cast versed in the work at Glyndebourne, continues to please. Giulini—given that he excludes Marcellina's and Basilio's arias (quite dispensable)—is the best buy. In terms of tempos, textural clarity, Italianate brio, warmth of feeling and above all in its evidence of Walter Legge's detailed production, it remains supreme and is to be had at mid-price on only two CDs, one of the great bargains of the catalogue. For these comparisons I sampled it again in the events of the Third Act around Schwarzkopf's unsurpassed ''Dove sono'' (right speed—faster than its rivals, masterly phrasing, perfect tone) and found it still held undisputed sway. Even so, may I again enter a plea for EMI to reissue the 1955 Gui version, one of the most enjoyable ever?'