If Rossini operas were numbered in the same way as Bruckner symphonies, Demetrio e Polibio would rank as his Opera No. 0. The individual movements were written at various junctures during Rossini’s teenage years at the Bologna Academy at the request of a well-known troupe of itinerant performers, the Mombelli family. Mombelli’s wife, Vincenzina nee Vigano, sister of the famous choreographer, provided the sub-Metastasian libretto. The family kept the piece on ice for three or four years but eventually gave it its prima in Rome in May 1812 – hoping, no doubt, to cash in on Rossini’s burgeoning reputation elsewhere in Italy.
The opera, it is generally agreed, is remarkable for two sequences, the exquisite duet “Questo cor ti giura” and the superbly confrontational quartet “Donami omai Siveno”. There are also at least two passably impressive solo arias and much, rather loosely organized, that is charming on the ear.
The present recording was made in 1992 during a performance at the Festival Valle d’Itria. It is billed as the opera’s “first recording”. This is not so. An earlier recording exists (on Bongiovanni) that was made in not dissimilar circumstances – live at a small festival – in 1979. Happily, the newer version is a vast improvement on its predecessor. A quick glance at the cast list reveals at least two familiar names – Dalmacio Gonzales and Giorgio Surian – in leading roles and they are well supported by Christine Weidinger and Sara Mingardo as the young lovers. Weidinger is happier in the sweet coloratura carollings of “Sempre teco ognor contenta” than in the aria “Alla pompa gia m’appresso” where she makes a none too grateful noise; but Mingardo is fine throughout, not least in a splendid account of her Act 1 aria “Pien di contento in seno”. The playing of the Austrian orchestra under the direction of Massimiliano Carraro is stylish and alert, the choral work excellent.
The recording is also a great improvement on that of the Bongiovanni set. Being live, there are some distractions: one or two bumps and bangs, some audible throat-clearing from someone on or near the stage and a limited amount of applause discreetly edited in and out. The main thing, though, is the clarity and easily absorbed immediacy of the sound of soloists and instrumentalists in the principal numbers. Stage movement seems to have been kept to a minimum here; thus it is only in recitatives that the singers occasionally wander off-mike.
With text, translation and well-produced booklet-notes, the set serves the opera more than adequately. Above all, the performance preserved here catches something of the opera’s epicene charm. “These songs,” wrote Stendhal, “were the first fragile blossoms of Rossini’s genius. The dawn of his life had left the dew still fresh upon them.”'