Davis’s measured conducting is more favourable to the tinta of Verdi’s middle-period masterpiece than to its histrionic necessities: this is a reading that works better in the mind, and so perhaps in the home, than it does in terms of theatrical excitement – for that you need to look for Muti on EMI, also at mid price. But Davis, with refined playing from the orchestra of which he was at the time chief, always touches the score’s inner eloquence and provides sympathetic support for his hero and heroine who – as so often at the time in the opera house – make an invaluable partnership.
As in 1991 when the set first appeared on CD at mid price, I warm to the finesse, character and above all ardour that Carreras brings to the character of Riccardo, none better in modern versions on disc. The passion, and, at the end, pathos of his performance, combined with its refinement of phrase, fulfil every facet of Riccardo’s complex personality. Caballe, though she may not by nature be a Verdi spinto, has just about every other quality (the very lowest and highest notes excepted) we expect from an Amelia – involvement, delicacy of phrase and, like Carreras, keen diction. Amelia’s Gallows scene is filled with foreboding, the ensuing duet with real feeling, while the fervour of her Prayer is exemplary.
The rest are rather ordinary, Wixell’s tone grainy and over-vibrant, especially when set beside that of Cappuccilli for Muti, the Oscar and Ulrica not as idiomatic as they should be, though Lloyd and Howell make a good pair of conspirators, as they often did at Covent Garden.
The set has now been deprived not only of Julian Budden’s original essay (as in 1991) but also of its libretto and translation. If that’s the price of the neater packaging it’s a steep one. If you want the most compelling performance of the past 25 years, Muti’s is still the one to have, but you will have to forgo Carreras and Caballe at their most potent – such has always been the quandary where recordings of this work are concerned.'