An exciting cast, suitably vigorous conducting and a lifelike recording make this a spectacular addition to Philips’s repertory of Young Verdi, as the company now call the series. The composer’s compositional technique may have been in a fairly undeveloped state in 1839 but when a performance of his first opera is as convincing as this, one hears more than a few pre-echoes of glories in the making. In its best moments the inspiration is already presaging a talent, a genius for original thought and construction beyond those of Bellini and Donizetti, while encompassing the best of what they had to offer. By adding as appendices three numbers Verdi wrote for later revivals and to my knowledge never recorded before, Philips put us further in their debt.
I have thought of Gulegina as about the best spinto of the day, and she confirms that opinion here in singing that suggests the dramatic conviction of Vishnevskaya in her prime. Like her great predecessor she shirks nothing in projecting the emotions of the character she is portraying. Her tone is big and vibrant, her feeling for the shape of Verdian phrase, as at “Misero padre mio!” in the work’s finale, instinctive. Only the colouring and shading of tone and words is rudimentary, a common fault today.
The same failing slightly, but only slightly, detracts from the arresting impression made by newcomer Lithuanian, mezzo Violeta Urmana, in the part of Cuniza. The operatic world seems to be bursting with exciting mezzos at the moment. Following on Bartoli, Larmore, Kasarova and Sara Mingardo (a Handelian second to none), Urmana can meet that challenge, her sappy, forthright tone gratefully recalling that of Cossotto. She comes into her own in the additional aria Verdi wrote for Milan, but in her less prominent contributions to the work proper she already makes a deep impression through her confident and spirited delivery.
Ramey is well suited by the title part, portraying the grieving, vengeful father to the life, imperiously declaiming recitative, singing cantabile passages in rich, finely shaped phraseology. The new American tenor, Stuart Neill, rather school of Chris Merritt with the advantages and disadvantages that suggests, sings rousingly but often too loudly as the villain Riccardo. He imitates the Italian tenor style successfully but when you go back to the real thing, in Bergonzi’s portrayal on the currently unavailable Orfeo set, you hear what’s missing in Neill’s otherwise estimable contribution.
Marriner conducts a direct, forward-moving interpretation that matches the raw energy in the score. His old orchestra offer playing of admirable thrust and delicacy as required. The London Voices sound properly Italianate.
In his otherwise informative notes, Roger Parker is obviously unaware that there are three rather than two additional pieces in the Appendix. As it happens the one he omits to mention, a duet found at the end of the Autograph, “Nel cangiar di sorte infida”, is the most interesting, recalling the Bellini of “Mira, o Norma”. It is gratifyingly voiced by Gulegina and Urmana whose voices smoothly intertwine. Cuniza’s aria, written for Milan in 1840, is – as I have already suggested – brought vividly to life by Urmana though it is a dullish piece. By contrast the Act 1 duet for Riccardo and Cuniza composed for the same performance shows Verdi already extending his melodic and harmonic skills. Urmana and Neill sing it with feeling.
The recording deserves and shall have a paragraph to itself. When I began listening I heard the ideal balance and natural sound so often missing in so many opera sets. I wondered if Erik Smith had been recalled to the Philips colours? Indeed he had and with the expected results. Nothing here of added resonance or distanced soloists, just a sense that one is in a good seat in the stalls and with enough attempt at moving the singers to simulate a live performance. All in all, this is an important addition to the Verdi discography.'