Haydn’s L’isola disabitata is an azione teatrale‚ although there is little action and it isn’t very theatrical. A setting‚ made in 1779‚ of an old libretto by Metastasio‚ gently modernised‚ it nevertheless has some very appealing music: a fine‚ Sturm und Drang­style G minor overture‚ seven arias and a final quartet‚ all of it linked‚ uniquely among Haydn’s stage works‚ by orchestrally accompanied recitative‚ often highly expressive. Clearly he had learnt something from Gluck’s Orfeo: what to do‚ although he had not quite mastered how to do it. The aptly named Costanza thinks herself abandoned on a desert island by her husband Gernando‚ with her sister Silvia‚ but is rescued by him after 13 years‚ just as she reaches the end of her tether and contemplates death. Silvia‚ brought up in isolation‚ experiences the awakening of amorous feelings when she encounters Gernando’s companion Enrico. All the music is gracefully composed and a delight on the ear‚ and most of it is appropriate to the situation (although that cannot quite be said of the perky cello and bassoon solo passages at a serious moment just before the finale). What is curious is that Haydn’s accompanied recitative so rarely seems to generate the kind of dramatic tension‚ even at critical moments‚ that one takes for granted in a Gluck or a Mozart; perhaps the libretto is at least partly to blame. Haydn‚ however‚ had no difficulty in clothing the aria texts in attractive‚ appealing and characteristic music. The aria for Gernando‚ in particular‚ and Costanza’s very expressive one with much woodwind writing which soon follows‚ are pieces to treasure. There is also a fine and unexpectedly expansive final quartet‚ in a rather vaudeville­like style (as in the finale of Mozart’s Die Entführung)‚ with each singer ‘tracked’‚ as it were‚ by an instrument – violin and cello for the main lovers‚ flute and bassoon for the secondary ones. The performance is conducted with plenty of vitality by Alessandro de Marchi‚ who directs the overture vigorously and draws neat playing from the orchestral soloists. His tempos are sprightly‚ his rhythms springy‚ his textures light; here and there a little more space and relaxation might have been welcome. Katharina Kammerloher draws a fine‚ rather taut line and phrases with some delicacy in Costanza’s music; in Silvia’s Anke Herrmann is suitably spirited and has a pleasantly natural delivery. I enjoyed the fluent and lyrical singing of the baritone‚ Furio Zanasi. Robert Lee’s Gernando I found a shade bland though agreeably full and warm in tone. But he is up against stiff competition from the existing recordings‚ and indeed so is the set as a whole. David Golub’s version for Arabesque is hampered by its extraordinarily slow tempos – it takes almost 100 minutes against the new recording’s 82‚ though it offers‚ generously‚ a bonus in the form of the cantata Arianna auf Naxos and it has some polished singing‚ most of all from John Aler and Susanne Mentzer. But both sets‚ it seems to me‚ are easily surpassed by the old Dorati 88 minute recording for Philips‚ conducted more idiomatically and with a better sense of Haydn’s expressive palette‚ and with singing that is altogether rather distinguished: the warm‚ expressive Constanza of Norma Lerer‚ Linda Zoghby’s delicate and pointed Silvia‚ the stylish and lyrical Gernando of Luigi Alva and the firm but lyrical baritone of Renato Bruson. The recording‚ made in 1978‚ still sounds well. That is the version to have; if you can’t find it‚ the new one offers the best alternative.