Kate and the Devil has never fared very well outside Czech lands, where after a slow start it has been steadily popular. Even England, where Dvorak won such early popularity, did not see the work until an Oxford production in 1932, and the only professional performance in these islands has been at enterprising Wexford in 1988. Record collectors have fared better, and it is high time to welcome back this version, originally recorded in 1979. Though this was never one of the best Supraphon recordings, it is perfectly serviceable.
The plot is complicated, and broadly speaking concerns the bossy Kate who, finding herself a wallflower at the village hop, angrily declares that she would dance with the Devil himself. Up there duly pops a junior devil, Marbuel, who carries her off to hell, where her ceaseless chatter wearies Lucifer himself. The diabolical company is only too happy to allow the shepherd Jirka to remove her again. Jirka, attractively sung by Milos Jezil, also manages to help the wicked but later repentant Princess to escape the Devil's clutches, and all ends well.
It is, unfortunately, not only Kate who is garrulous. Adolf Wenig's libretto does not compensate for static situations with its wordiness; but it did serve to turn Dvorak in an interesting direction. The rapid exchanges and succinct phrases of some of the conversations suggest a composer he had begun to admire, Janacek, though in 1897 he cannot have known much beyond Amarus. The influence hurled at Dvorak's head at the time was, as so often at Czech composers in these years, that of Wagner; but really it is very superficial, resting on a few similarities of texture (the opening of Act 3 of Tristan puts in a brief appearance, for instance) and a misapprehension of the nature of Wagner's handling of motive. Marbuel's seductive account of his (non-existent) castle was one passage that caused critics to see Wagner under the bed. The work has a proper coherence, and much good humour besides.
Anna Barova's Kate is strong and full of character, but manages not to exclude the charm that should underlie her rantings at Marbuel, who is handsomely sung by Richard Novak. Brigita Sulcova similarly makes much of the not very sympathetic Princess. Jaroslav Horacek enjoys himself hugely as Lucifer. Jiri Pinkas accompanies them well. The booklet repeats the material from the original LP issue virtually unaltered: that is to say, there is a brief introductory essay, singer biographies (this time with pictures), and full text with English, French and German translations.'